#We Will Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

[greenbuns]

wrapped & melted | e.w

written by greenbuns

° . Pairings : Ellie Williams × Fem!Reader (you)

° . Contains : cozy morning (kinda aftercare), slight nudity, skin contact, cuddling & snuggling, soft romance, clingy, lovey-dovey, taking a bath together, fluff fluff fluff, full of kisses and ellie is deeply enamoured with you

Rain taps gently against the windowpane, its soft rhythm soothing, almost like a lullaby lingering in the early hours of the morning. Outside, the world is shrouded in a gray hush, the streets damp and glistening beneath the kiss of dawn.

The red‑digit clock on the nightstand blinks; showing that it was six in the morning.

Inside the cozy apartment, the bedroom is cloaked in a dim amber glow from a single candle whose deep‑berry scent perfumes the air—sweet, tangy, and comforting. Clothing lies in disarray across the wooden floor, scattered trophies of last night’s fervent passion; Ellie’s soft flannel shirt draped over the armchair, one sock half‑stuffed into her boot, your own underwear tangled somewhere near the foot of the bed like a silken white flag of surrender.

Beneath a thick, off‑white blanket you are wrapped up together, a knot of limbs and quiet heat. Ellie’s arms encircle your waist as if she never intends to let go. Her head is tucked just below the curve of your breasts, your skin her personal pillow. Her cheek feels pleasantly cool on your warm torso, her breaths gentle puffs of air that graze you and leave goosebumps in their wake.

You drift in a hazy space between dreams and waking until a flutter of kisses brushes your neck—soft, feather‑light, the kind that say I treasure this and I treasure you. The affection woven into every press of Ellie’s lips stirs you more effectively than any alarm. A languid hum slips from your throat as your fingers instinctively slide into her short, tousled hair. She looks up at you, green eyes drowsy but brimming with warmth.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she whispers, voice hoarse with sleep yet tender enough to melt steel.

Your lips curve sleepily. “Hi," you murmur back, the single word coated in the honeyed haze of early hour intimacy. Ellie props herself on one elbow, brushing a stray lock behind your ear. Her palm settles on your waist, thumb drawing lazy circles that kindle sparks beneath your skin.

“You feel okay, baby?” she asks softly, searching your gaze. “Was I too rough on you?”

Last night rushes back; love, heat, hunger, whispered confessions spoken on shaky breaths. The way your moans and whimpers were the realest form of heavenly sound in her ears, and her green eyes lit like all the bright stars when she saw the entirety of you—raw, tender, and wild.

You swallow, heart swelling until it nudges your ribs.

“More than okay,” you say, cupping her freckled cheek. “I loved every second of it.”

Ellie’s lips lift into a smile so radiant it rivals sunrise. She leans down to kiss you—slow, reverent, savoring. When she finally pulls away you feel as if your soul has been dipped in warm sunlight. “Good,” she murmurs. “Because that sex, it healed me, babe."

You let out a soft chuckle before she continued, "Could practically provide a full fucking health insurance.”

Then you cackled, "Weirdo." And Ellie just gave you the stupid grin you fell in love with.

The candle flickers, casting soft shadows that dance lazily over the ceiling. Rain provides a steady backbeat as you and Ellie lie in each other’s arms, trading unhurried kisses punctuated by little sighs of contentment. She murmured gentle phrases in your ear like "you're so beautiful" and "can't wait to marry you one day" that made your cheeks heated. There is no rush in your world; the outside may be full of schedules and obligations, but here time stretches like liquid caramel.

Ellie snuggles closer, burying her nose against your collarbone. “Let’s stay in bed all day,” she proposes, voice muffled.

“We don’t have to do anything today,” you tease, tracing invisible patterns on the strong line of her shoulder.

“Exactly.” She lifts her head just enough to smirk. “Which means I get to do this.” A playful kiss to your chin, then your jaw, she went lower and doesn't stop until her lips kissed one of your perky nipples. Each press of her mouth is a tiny spark, and together they build a gentle fire in your chest.

Minutes—or maybe hours—slip by in a blur of half‑sleep loops. You drift off, wake to her fingertips twining through yours, drift again. Occasionally you talk in whispers about nothing: the dream she had where a dinosaur tried to steal your coffee, the song repeating in your head, the shape the rainwater makes on the balcony railing. There is intimacy in sharing the mundane; it is a different kind of nakedness, one that bares the heart.

Eventually the candle has melted into a berry‑scented puddle of wax and the rain outside softens to the hush of mist.

♡ + ♡ + ♡ + ♡ + ♡ + ♡ + ♡ + ♡ + ♡ + ♡ + ♡

The bathroom was warm with steam, the windows fogged up, and the soft sound of water gently sloshing in the tub filled the space. The bubble bath was full, soft foam cresting over the rim, shimmering under the golden bathroom light. The air was heady with the scent of berry and warmth, clinging to your skin like a memory.

Your girlfriend insisted for you both to have a bath together. She claimed so innocently like her expression made of cotton, saying something like "the water crisis is increasing, must start using it wisely to support earth welfare" when what she actually wanted was to see your glistening naked skin pressed against hers.

Ellie stepped into the tub first, letting out a satisfied hum as the hot water wrapped around her sore muscles, the heat soaking into her skin. She settled against the back of the tub with her legs stretched out, arms draped along the edge, her toned frame relaxed, bare, and glistening in the haze.

She looked over at you with that familiar lazy smirk. “C’mere, baby. Water’s perfect.”

You slid in carefully, the heat rising up your spine, making you sigh out loud as it welcomed you in. Without a word, Ellie opened her arms and guided you back into her embrace, pulling you gently to lean against her chest. Her hands found your waist underwater, fingers splaying lovingly across your stomach.

Your back pressed into her front, her chin resting just over your shoulder. The warmth of the water was nothing compared to the warmth of her skin wrapped around yours. Every inch of you softened into her, into the comfort of being held, of being cared for.

“Mmm,” Ellie murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Perfect fit, aren't you?”

You smiled and let your head rest against hers. Her arms curled tighter around you, one hand trailing up to cup your breast under the water, giving it light squeezes, thumb stroking gently. It wasn’t sexual, not really. Not yet.

It was grounding. Intimate. Devotional.

“So pretty,” she whispered into your damp skin, her gaze coming back to you, "Feel good?"

“Like heaven,” you replied, voice low and relaxed. “I never want to move.”

“Take your time, baby," She kissed your shoulder next, slow and soft. “I've got you.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as her fingers started drawing little circles along your thigh, the movements slow, hypnotic. Every few moments she’d shift to press a kiss somewhere new—the back of your neck, behind your ear—like she couldn’t get enough of you, like you were something delicate she was learning all over again.

“You smell like berries,” she mumbled, smiling without opening her eyes.

You chuckled softly, felt her breath warm on your ear, “That candle’s really working overtime.”

“Or maybe it’s you,” she teased, turning your face just enough to meet her lips for a kiss.

You kissed her back immediately, the hand on your thigh stilling as she leaned into you, water shifting gently around your bodies. The kiss was slow, deep, unhurried. Her tongue brushed lightly against yours, tasting you like it was the first time all over again. She held you tighter, the water sloshing softly as her knees bent to keep you nestled snug between them.

When the kiss broke, she didn’t pull far—just rested her forehead against the side of your face.

“You’re everything,” she whispered.

Your fingers found hers underwater and laced them together, “Sappy,” You whispered.

Ellie smirked against your skin, “You say that like you wouldn't let me get into your pants every night.”

She earned a little smack.

You turned in her arms just enough to kiss her again—more tender this time, full of quiet gratitude and aching affection. Her hands roamed your back, soothing, loving, like she was anchoring herself to you.

They stayed that way for a long time—just two bodies molded together in heat and silence. Even as the water began to cool, neither of you moved. Ellie shifted only to brush a few bubbles off your shoulder or adjust the way her legs cradled yours. You leaned into her, fully, completely, letting her hold all of you.

“Let’s never leave this tub,” you whispered, only half-joking.

Ellie nuzzled your cheek, her smile audible in her voice. “Deal. But only if I get to wash your hair.”

You laughed, heart full. “That’s your condition?”

“That and maybe.. " She trailed, her lips curled into a smirk, "Making out with you for like... twenty more minutes.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible.”

You melted into laughter, then into another kiss, and another, and then one more that didn’t end for a while. The tub may have cooled, but the heat between you hadn’t gone anywhere.

Wrapped in each other, hearts unguarded, the world outside could’ve vanished—and neither of you would’ve noticed. [•]

> thanks for reading i hope u guys liked it. good day/night <3

[bubblesgarden]

— smug.

PAIRING. carpenter!rafe x reader CONTENT. smut. minors dni. rafe's smug asf. breeding kink. car sex. rafe worked his ass off to get what he deserves.

you heard it before you saw it. 

a low, purring engine you didn’t recognize pulling into the driveway— smooth, deep, new. not the familiar rattle of the old f150 you could hear from three blocks away. this was different. 

you wiped your hands on a dish towel and peeked out the window, brows furrowing. 

thats when you saw it. 

a brand new chevy silverado— black as night, polished to a shine. the kind of truck that turned heads without even trying. 

and stepping out of it, covered in sawdust and sweat from a long day on site, was rafe cameron. grinning like the cat who caught the damn canary.

you were already at the front door when he came around the front of the truck, keys dangling from his fingers like a trophy. 

“well?” he said, trying to play it cool. “what do you think?”

you stepped out onto the porch and gave him a once over— your man. your hard working, stubborn, sunburnt man. standing there, next to something he’d dreamed about for years. 

“i think,” you said slowly, arms crossing, “that i’ve never seen anyone look so smug in their life.” 

he laughed, pulling you in by the waist. “i think i earned a little smug.” 

you tipped your chin up, pretending to think for a moment. “how many years did that ford hold on?” 

“too many,” he groaned. “i swear i was pushin’ it more than i was driving it in the end.” 

“hey— that car is apart of our—”

“history, i know— i know,” he laughed, shaking his head for a moment, arms still wrapped around you. you just smiled, tucking your hands under the back of his shirt just to feel the warmth of his back. 

“look at you now. new truck, owning your own business. big life.” 

rafe’s eyes softened. “yeah, big life. all because of you.” 

you rolled your eyes. “rafe—”

“i’m serious,” he said, voice quiet now. “you were there when i couldn’t even afford new work boots. when i was just some kid driving a beat up truck and borrowing tools.” 

you kissed his jaw, soft and gentle. “and i’d still be proud of you if that’s all we ever had.” 

he leaned his forehead against yours, exhaling slowly. “i know, and i’m forever grateful. but it ain’t anymore.” 

then, with that familiar spark in his eye, he grabbed your hand and led you toward the truck. “come on, gotta give you the full tour.” 

you laughed as he opened the passenger door, helping you in like it was the first date all over again, and climbed into the driver’s seat beside you.

he looked over, smiling. one of those soft, stupid, i’m so in love ones, and said: “fits us nice, huh?” 

you reached across, laced your fingers through his and nodded. 

“yeah,” you whispered. “real nice.” 

by the time he had pulled back out of the driveway, he had one hand on the wheel, the other now resting comfortably on your thigh— thumb rubbing little circles just beneath the hem of your shorts. the windows were rolled down, and his favourite country playlist humming low through the speakers. 

you were leaned back in the seat, watching him drive like he was king of the whole damn town, grinning to yourself at how good he looked. fresh home from work, still smelling like sawdust and wood varnish. his shirt stretched snuggly across his chest, arms golden from hours spent in the sun. 

and smug. so smug. 

“you know,” he said, flicking his turn signal on, “i could definitely fit a car seat back there.” 

you turned your head slowly. “what?” 

he glanced at you, all faux innocence, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “just saying. it’s got space. roomy, safe. suspension’s smooth, too.” 

you raised a brow at him. “rafe, we’re going to get tacos. not picking out strollers.” 

“yet,” he added, squeezing your thigh a little harder. “but, i mean, wouldn’t take much. would it?” 

you snorted, shaking your head. “oh my god.” 

he kept talking, eyes still on the road, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach twist. 

“can picture it. little girl with your eyes, or a boy who gives me hell like you do. tiny boots. comin’ home to his mama after spending all day in the workshop with me.” 

your breath caught, and he noticed— of course he noticed. he just smirked, turning onto the open stretch of dusty road just outside of town. 

“you’d look good pregnant,” he murmured. “all round and soft and sweet. could keep you home, spoil you rotten, make sure you never lift a damn finger.” 

you swallowed hard, but your tone stayed light. “you always this subtle when your horny, or is it a new truck thing?” 

rafe laughed, full and warm, his hand sliding a little higher up your leg. “baby, i’ve been thinking about filling you up since i first picked you up in my old ford. now i've just got better shocks and more leg room.” 

you nearly choked. 

“rafe—”

“just lettin’ you know,” he shrugged. “i built us a life. just need you to let me make it bigger.” he finally glanced over at you, saw your flushed cheeks, and bit back a grin. “we can still get tacos first,” he offered, clearly enjoying your reaction. “but after that… maybe you let me put the truck to work.” 

you didn’t even make it to the taco place. 

at least, not first. 

because ten minutes down that dusty back road with the sun dipping low in the sky, rafe had pulled over just outside the tree line— right where the pines got thick and the air smelled like summer and dust and honeysuckle. 

the truck idled in park, engine still humming low beneath you as he turned in his seat, hand trailing up your bare thigh. 

“you alright?” he asked, voice low, thumb brushing the hem of your shorts with just enough pressure to make you shift in your seat. 

you nodded, already breathless, squirming underneath his touch. “mhm.” 

“good,” he said, leaning over the console to press his mouth to yours, slow and steady and confident. that familiar weight of him, all hard muscle and warm skin, sinking into you like he belonged there. “been thinkin’ about this since i signed the damn papers.” 

you gasped softly when his hand slid higher, fingers curling under the waistband of your shorts, teasing— testing. 

“rafe— someone could drive by,” you whispered, thought it came out more like a whine, even as your knees parted slightly beneath his palm. 

he chuckled against your mouth, cocky and breathless, lips dragging down your jaw. “baby,” he murmured. “ain’t no one coming out here but deers and ghosts. and neither of them give a damn if i’ve got you whining in the front seat of my brand new truck.” 

you couldn’t help it— you tugged at his shirt, dragging him closer, heart thudding in your chest. 

“i want you,” you whispered, already breathless and dizzy. “i want you so bad.” 

that’s all it took. 

he groaned, deep in his throat, and pulled you across the console in one quick, practiced motion, settling you into his lap like he’d been thinking about this exact moment for days. your thighs straddled his, hands clutching at his shoulders as he kissed you harder, deeper— his fingers fumbling with the button of your shorts. 

“been dreamin’ about this,” he murmured against your neck. “my girl ridin’ me in my truck. always said it’d be you, didn’t i?” 

you nodded, head thrown back, hips already rolling against the growing bulge in his jeans. 

“tell me you want my baby,” he rasped suddenly, the words hitting you like a freight train. “tell me you want me to fill you up. right here. in this truck i worked my goddamn ass off to buy for us.” 

you could feel the way rafe's hands moved to unbutton his own jeans, pulling his cock from its confines, thick and heavy against his stomach. and that had you whining. 

“i want it, rafe. i want your baby. i want all of it.” 

that’s when he lifted you, pushing inside of you— hot, deep, perfect —and you swore the whole truck shook from the force of your moan. 

his head fell back against the seat, jaw clenched, hands bruising your hips as he thrust up into you, slow and hard. the windows fogged fast, air filling with the sounds of skin and breath and soft curses. the leather creaking softly beneath you. 

and rafe— god, rafe —was everywhere. mouth on your shoulder, voice rasping mine over and over again, whispering promises about forever and family and filling you up until it sticks. 

it was hot, it was messy, and it was real. 

and when you finally came— writhing in his lap, breath caught on his name like a prayer, he wasn’t far behind, burying his face into your neck with a strangled groan as he followed you over the edge. 

silence fell heavy afterward; thick and warm and full of something golden. 

you collapsed against him, still straddling his lap, both of you slick with sweat and panting like you had just ran for miles. 

he smoothed a hand down your spine, kissing your temple. 

“so, tacos?” he asked, voice hoarse and smug. 

you smacked his chest, but you were already smiling.

if you enjoyed, please consider giving a like, reblog, and/or comment ! i always appreciate your support <3

requests are open !

[moondustbaby]

The Man We Love Most

blue collar!Rafe x wife!Reader

summary: It’s Father’s Day, and you wake up early with Mia and Jace to make Rafe his favorite breakfast and surprise him with handmade cards and love. What follows is a syrupy, sleepy morning filled with kisses, laughter, and quiet moments that remind you just how lucky you are to call him yours.

⸻

It starts just after six.

The house is still quiet, sun barely beginning to peek through the blinds, when you slip out of bed carefully—trying not to wake Rafe. He’s snoring softly, arm still draped across your waist, hair a wild mess from sleep. You press a kiss to his cheek and ease yourself out from under the blankets.

The second you pad down the hall, Jace is already standing at his bedroom door, eyes wide with excitement.

“Is it time?” he whispers.

You crouch down, brushing a hand through his sleep-tousled curls. “Yep. Let’s go surprise Daddy.”

Mia takes a little more convincing. Her hair’s tangled, arms full of stuffed animals, still rubbing her eyes when she finally lets you scoop her up and carry her to the kitchen.

Together, you make Rafe’s favorite: chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs, and crispy bacon. Jace insists on pouring the batter himself (and makes a total mess), while Mia’s in charge of sprinkles (which she dumps over absolutely everything). The kitchen looks like a war zone by the time you’re done, but you don’t care. They’re happy. They’re giggling. They’re proud.

While you plate everything, Jace and Mia run off to decorate the dining room table with the handmade cards they’d worked on the night before. Jace’s has stick figures of the whole family—Rafe holding a hammer, Mia with a tiara, and you holding what he swears is a coffee mug. Mia’s is mostly pink hearts and scribbles, “DADA” scrawled across the front.

Once everything is set and the table glows with morning light, you tell them, “Okay, go wake Daddy.”

Jace lights up. “Can I jump on him?”

You laugh, “Please don’t break him. Be gentle, okay?”

They tear down the hallway, barefoot and loud. You can hear their squeals from the bedroom.

“Daddy! It’s your day!”

“Come on! Pancakes!”

Rafe emerges a few minutes later, smile lazy and wide, hair pointing in every direction. He’s got Mia on one hip, Jace clinging to his hand, both kids practically vibrating with excitement.

“Well good morning,” you say, leaning against the counter. “Happy Father’s Day, baby.”

Rafe’s eyes find yours, and that dopey, sleep-drunk grin softens into something even warmer. “You did all this?”

You shrug, fighting a smile. “Your little fan club had a vision.”

He looks around—the messy table, the lopsided pancakes, the flower Jace picked from the yard shoved into a glass—and then back at you.

“I’m the luckiest bastard alive.”

“Language,” you say automatically, nodding toward the kids.

He grins, kisses Mia’s cheek and Jace’s forehead, then walks over and wraps an arm around your waist. You bury your face in his chest for just a second, inhaling the scent of sleep and warmth and him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against your hair. “For all of this.”

You curl your fingers into the soft cotton of his shirt. “You deserve it.”

Then the four of you sit down—at a syrup-sticky table, surrounded by glittery cards and pure chaos—and eat breakfast together. Rafe makes silly airplane sounds to feed Mia pancakes, Jace recounts every detail of his kitchen “help,” and you just watch it all, heart full.

It’s not fancy. It’s not perfect.

It’s just your family—tired and messy and so full of love you could burst.

And Rafe?

Rafe has never looked more like a man you’re proud to love.

a/n: okay so i wrote this with tears in my eyes and syrup in my heart. it’s giving domestic dream, it’s giving pancake-eating husband, it’s giving “thank you for making me a dad” whispered against your neck while your kid sticks a crayon up his nose. if you’ve ever imagined rafe soft-smiling at you in boxers while holding your sleepy toddler on father’s day… this is for you. 🫶🏻

♥️ lani

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[mikaylathenerd5]

STACKED DECK + Fourth & Forever

Main Masterlist ৹ Join My Taglist

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Juno Davis (black oc)

Warning: None. Just some playful banter and mild cussing.

Summary: It starts with a game. It ends with something deeper. When Roman and Juno host a simple game night at home, it turns into everything these nights always do: a little chaos, a lot of cussing, way too many stacked cards, and more warmth than anyone in the room knows how to handle. (Set in the future of this universe, but can be read as a standalone.)

A/N: I know it has been a little minute since posting for these two loves. I hope you guys love it. Thank you for reading Stacked Deck. 🖤 If this one made you laugh or made you soft, I’d love to know — reblogs and comments mean more than you know. 🖤

P.S. No one will ever convince me Roman isn’t the type to play Uno with a whole strategy and then rock a sleeping baby on his chest like it’s nothing.

Word Count: ~3.2k

Roman’s condo smelled like home.

Warmth drifted from the kitchen — toasted vanilla from a candle flickering on the counter, buttery salt wafting from the bowl of popcorn Roman carried to the table. The living room lights were dimmed to a soft, golden glow. Beyond the tall windows, the city glittered beneath a deep velvet sky. The speakers hummed with the low thrum of an old-school R&B playlist, each bass note a gentle pulse in the air.

Game night.

What started as one spontaneous gathering had become a ritual. The cousins blocked out their calendars for it now. Naomi texted all week in full-caps threats if anyone bailed. Jey showed up early to “scope the competition.” Jimmy and Rhea brought the noise. And always — always — one little girl claimed the throne of the night.

“Daddy, I help?” Luna asked, tugging at the hem of her pajama top — pink cotton with tiny white stars scattered across it, her favorite. The matching pants bunched at her ankles, one sock already missing, curls wild and soft against her cheeks.

Roman’s mouth kicked up. “You sure do, baby.” He crouched, handing her the box of Uno cards. “Go set this right in the middle for everybody.”

Luna took it solemnly, both hands clutching the box like a sacred treasure. As she toddled to the coffee table, Roman caught the faint scent of her bubblegum shampoo when she passed him.

She laid the cards down with great ceremony. Roman’s gaze lingered a beat longer — still not used to the way moments like this turned him inside out. These were the hours he never thought he’d have. The kind of life that happened off the field. The kind of life that mattered.

Behind him, the sliding glass door clicked shut.

“Deck’s ready,” Juno called, stepping in barefoot from the balcony, cheeks pink from the breeze. “And the drinks are in the fridge.”

She moved through the room with effortless grace — ponytail high, soft black tee knotted at the waist, black leggings hugging long legs that moved with casual confidence. Roman caught her wrist as she passed, tugging her gently into his space.

“You look good, baby.”

Juno smiled against his chest. “That your official Game Night commentary?”

“Nah,” Roman rumbled. His chin dipped, lips brushing her forehead. “That’s just me reminding you this is my favorite night of the week.”

Because it was. The rhythm of his old life — stadium lights, road trips, cold hotel rooms — had nothing on this. Home. Softness. Laughter. Noise. The sound of Luna giggling in her pajamas, the smell of vanilla in the air, the feeling of Juno fitting against him like she’d always belonged there. It was what he hadn’t known he needed until it was here, filling the spaces he used to keep empty.

Luna darted back over. “I ready!”

Roman crouched again. “Good job, mama. You gonna sit with me when we play?”

Luna nodded emphatically, curls bouncing. “I be your helper.”

“That’s right,” Roman said. “We’ll need one.” His eyes twinkled as they flicked to Juno. “You know they’re gonna fight by round two.”

“They always do.” Juno grinned. “You’d think we were playing for money.”

“Should be,” Roman said dryly. “They treat it like a championship.”

The elevator’s soft ding cut through the condo.

“They here!” Luna gasped.

Roman rose, scooping her effortlessly into his arms. “Go tell Mama to open the door.”

Luna twisted toward Juno in his hold. “Mamaaaa, door!”

Moments later, the door swung open — and the energy of the room flipped like a switch.

“AYYY!” Jimmy hollered first, arms wide as he barreled in. “Uno night, we BACK!”

Naomi strode in behind him, black leggings and a cropped tee hugging her frame, braids swinging with each step. “Y’all ready to lose or what?”

“Never,” Jey called from the hallway, grinning. “I brought snacks.”

He held up a bag of chips and a two-liter like they were sacred offerings.

Rhea came last, smirking as she crossed the threshold. “Roman, this domestic era look good on you.”

Roman chuckled, adjusting Luna on his hip. “What you tryna say?”

“That I walked in and you’re out here hosting like a suburban dad,” Rhea teased.

Juno laughed from the kitchen. “Trust me, he loves it.”

“And so do you,” Roman shot back, grinning toward her.

The room swelled with noise — voices overlapping, chairs scraping. Jackets hit the backs of chairs. The fridge opened and closed in rapid succession. Bags crinkled as they unpacked snacks. The familiar hum of family settling in wrapped around Roman like a second skin.

Luna wriggled. “Daddy, cards!”

“I’m coming.” Roman moved to the couch, claiming the corner seat with the best view of the room.

Before he could even reach for the cards, Luna clambered up after him and plopped herself squarely in his lap, pajama-clad legs curling over his.

“This my seat,” she declared, head tipping back against his chest.

Roman’s arm curled instinctively around her. “Of course it is, mama.”

Jimmy flopped down across from them. “Yo, boss been chosen. We all gon’ lose now.”

Naomi dropped onto a floor cushion. “As long as y’all know the house rules.”

Rhea snorted. “Here we go.”

Jey stretched out on the opposite end of the couch. “Say it now before we start. Stacks allowed or nah?”

Roman met his gaze coolly. “Stacks allowed.”

“+2 on +4?” Naomi pressed.

“You know how we do,” Roman said. “Play at your own risk.”

Luna clapped. “Let’s gooooo!”

Everyone laughed — tension easing, the room filling with that particular warmth only possible when people who loved each other shared space.

Juno sank down beside Roman, close enough their knees brushed. Her hand slid over his thigh for a beat, unnoticed by the others — enough to make Roman’s chest hum low.

This life, he thought. This right here.

Cards shuffled. Snacks passed. The playlist faded beneath the rising hum of voices.

Game night had begun.

And if the past was any indication? It wouldn’t stay this peaceful for long.

Roman shuffled the deck with practiced ease, the worn cards sliding through his fingers with a satisfying whisper. From his lap, Luna watched with wide eyes, legs still curled over his, her small hands absently smoothing the hem of her pajama top.

“Daddy, I count?” she asked softly.

“You sure can.” Roman handed her a small stack to hold. “Here — hold ‘em tight.”

Juno smiled, leaning in. “You training her for the big leagues?”

“Gotta start ‘em young.” Roman winked, dealt the cards. “Seven each.”

Cards flicked out in a steady rhythm. Naomi caught one mid-air. “You think dealing smooth gonna save you tonight?”

“Better than y’all shuffling like the cards owe you money,” Roman shot back.

Jimmy leaned back, arms folded behind his head. “Naomi talk big but swear her deck got magnets.”

Naomi threw a popcorn kernel at him. “Jealousy don’t look good on you.”

The room laughed — that rich, easy kind of laughter that layered naturally into the space. Faint crinkle of chip bags, soft clink of glasses underneath the voices.

Luna handed Roman the stack she was “counting,” proud. Roman kissed the top of her curls. “Good job, mama.”

Jey stacked his cards neatly, smirking. “Watch — first person hit with a +4 gon’ swear we cheating.”

“That’s ‘cause y’all do cheat,” Jimmy said. “And stack like y’all tryna build a house.”

Rhea grinned. “Ain’t nobody cheat better than a man about to lose.”

“Ohhhhhh!” Naomi sang. “Say it louder, queen.”

Roman arched a brow. “Y’all done?”

“Ready.” Naomi smirked. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Roman placed the first card down. Yellow seven.

Play began. The opening round stayed light — colors flipped quick, no special cards flying yet. Everyone eased in, snacks and drinks within easy reach. Cards slapped the table with crisp rhythm.

Juno tossed a green skip, smiling sweetly at Jimmy. “Sorry.”

Jimmy clutched his chest. “Oh! Betrayal from the girlfriend of the host. Y’all see this mess?”

Roman leaned toward Juno, voice low. “You ruthless, baby.”

She bumped her knee into his. “Gotta keep my edge.”

“Daddy, skip is good?” Luna asked.

“Sometimes, baby,” Roman said. “Not for Uncle Jimmy.”

“Poor Uncle Jimmy,” Luna whispered dramatically.

“See?” Jimmy huffed. “Even the baby know y’all outta pocket.”

The next few hands passed — Naomi throwing color changes like confetti, Jey quick on reverses.

Roman kept one arm around Luna, playing with the other, calm.

Then Naomi slapped down a +2. “Roman.”

Roman chuckled, rubbing Luna’s back. “We starting already?”

Jimmy cackled. “Don’t act surprised, big dog. Uno night is war.”

He added a +2 on top. “Stack ‘em!”

Rhea grinned. “We stacking stacking.”

Roman looked at Juno. “You gon’ help me out?”

She lifted her hands, innocent. “I’m a pacifist tonight.”

Roman sighed, drew four cards. Luna gasped. “That’s a lot, Daddy!”

“It’s alright, mama. We gon’ come back stronger.”

“Using the baby for sympathy,” Jey deadpanned. “That’s dirty play, Uce.”

Roman smirked. “You scared of a four-year-old, that’s between you and your pride.”

Play continued — cards snapping down harder, voices layering faster.

Rhea hit Jimmy with a +4 mid-round.

“YO. YOU SERIOUS?!” Jimmy bellowed.

“Deadass.” Rhea sipped her drink like royalty.

Jimmy groaned, stacking them dramatically. “This is abuse.”

Naomi grinned. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“Don’t forget we got a swear jar,” Roman said. “Y’all wild tonight.”

“Not me!” Jey said.

“Uh huh.” Roman shook his head. “Put five in for the preemptive cussing.”

“Daddy,” Luna whispered sleepily. “Swear jar get big?”

“Too big, mama.” Roman kissed her curls.

Juno watched, heart twisting. The sight of him — child warm against his chest, the calm in his voice amid the chaos — undid her.

Her fingers brushed Roman’s forearm beneath the table. He caught the touch, glanced down, soft flicker in his eyes.

“You handling this like a pro,” Juno murmured.

He turned slightly. “Long as you right here, baby.”

Her smile bloomed slow.

“Yo!” Jimmy called. “Can y’all stop flirting and focus?! I’m fighting for my life over here.”

Roman deadpan: “You losing with love in the room, Uce.”

Naomi nearly spit her drink. “Somebody get this man.”

Next few rounds picked up — Rhea flipping colors rapid-fire, Naomi mid-argument.

“A reverse cancels a skip!” Naomi declared.

“It DON’T!” Jimmy shouted.

Roman sighed. “Luna. Settle this.”

Luna blinked sleepily. “Daddy wins.”

The whole room cracked up.

“Man,” Jey grinned. “Nepotism at its finest.”

Roman smiled down at her. “That’s my girl.”

Play resumed — cards flying, voices rising, Luna’s body relaxing heavier against Roman’s chest.

Juno caught the shift ��� thumb sliding absently over his hoodie, her eyes fluttering.

And beneath it all, Juno watched Roman, chest aching.

This, she thought. This is everything.

Cards slapped. Chips rustled. Voices layered in chaotic symphony.

And the room buzzed with that rare kind of joy only family could create.

Cards slapped harder. Voices climbed. The game table now felt like a battlefield—Uno cards flying, chips scattered, drinks half-forgotten as the stack in the center grew more dangerous by the second.

Jey threw down a reverse. “We back to me.”

Naomi didn’t hesitate. “Boom—+2.”

Jimmy groaned. “Man. AGAIN?!”

“You got hands—use ’em.” Naomi grinned.

Jimmy stacked another +2. “Aight. Bet. Y’all play dirty.”

Jey snorted. “Stack that shit, Uce!”

“Don’t let him breathe!” Rhea chimed in.

“Y’all gon’ make me catch a case,” Jimmy muttered, grabbing his next card.

Rhea leaned in, cool and unbothered. “+4.”

Jimmy slapped the table. “RHEA, I SWEAR TO GOD.”

Roman, unbothered, reached for the house rules Naomi had taped to the fridge. “Page one—stacks allowed.”

Jey howled. “Read the rules, Uce.”

Jimmy huffed. “Man, I don’t read when I’m fightin’ for my life!”

The table erupted in laughter.

Roman smirked. “Draw, Uce.”

Jimmy stood dramatically. “This some bullshit—” He caught himself. “Bull...shoot. SHOOOOT.”

Roman arched a brow. “Swear jar.”

Jimmy slapped five dollars down. “Here. Blood money.”

“Daddy,” came a soft voice.

Luna’s head now rested heavy against Roman’s chest, eyes half-lidded. “Uncle Jimmy loud.”

“I know, mama.” Roman’s arm cradled her tighter. “He always loud.”

Juno caught the sight—her heart twisting. The game raged, but Roman sat steady, warm and quiet, one hand shuffling cards, the other stroking Luna’s back.

Meanwhile, the stack continued to grow.

Naomi tossed another +4. “Roman.”

Jimmy screamed. “YOU GONNA DO THAT TO HIM?! WITH THE BABY IN HIS LAP?!”

Naomi shrugged. “Ain’t no mercy in Uno.”

Roman calmly stacked a +2. “Family don’t mean safe.”

The table lost it.

“OH HE COLD COLD,” Jey howled.

Jimmy nearly fell off his chair. “I AIN’T NEVER SEEN HIM THIS SAVAGE.”

Rhea wiped tears. “Put him in the Hall of Fame right now.”

Roman kissed Luna’s curls. “Stay sleep, baby. Daddy got this.”

Luna murmured, already halfway gone. “Mm’kay…”

Juno’s eyes burned watching them. The man she loved sat calm in the storm, child warm in his arms—the center of her world without even trying.

Then the stack war hit critical.

Jimmy, desperate, slammed a color change. “RED.”

“Reverse,” Rhea said.

“Skip,” Naomi grinned.

“+4,” Jey fired.

“Yo, y’all fuckin’ with me ON PURPOSE,” Jimmy snapped.

“Play your hand,” Naomi shot back. “You talkin’ too much.”

“Bro, I’m about to fight somebody,” Jimmy grumbled.

“You can’t fight Uno,” Roman said calmly.

Jimmy exploded. “YO THIS SOME—” He caught himself. “Fu...FUDGE.”

“Swear jar,” Roman replied, not missing a beat.

Jimmy slapped a crumpled twenty. “I PAID IN ADVANCE.”

“You about to pay again,” Naomi grinned.

“Man, Jimmy out here payin’ like he at the damn strip club,” Rhea snorted.

“Make it rain, Uce!” Jey hollered.

“At this point, you fundin’ Luna’s college, bruh,” Naomi added.

Roman smirked. “She sleep-sleep now.” He glanced down—Luna fully melted against his chest, breath soft and even. “She good.”

“Wait—she out out?” Jimmy asked.

Roman nodded. “She good.”

Beat of silence.

Then—

“AYO THIS SHIT IS FUCKIN’ RIGGED!” Jimmy roared, slamming down a draw four.

The table exploded.

“FINALLY! THANK YOU GOD!” Naomi cried.

“Man FUCK this game!” Jey threw his hand down.

“Oh NOW y’all wanna cuss like we ain’t been strugglin’ this whole time,” Rhea laughed.

“Put ANOTHER twenty in!” Rhea added, grinning.

“You just tithed again,” Jey said.

“I’mma get a Zelle QR code for the swear jar,” Naomi cracked.

Roman shook his head. “Bad influences.”

“BRUH—you the one playin’ +2’s with the baby in your lap like a fuckin’ MOB BOSS,” Jimmy pointed.

“Multi-tasking,” Roman said dryly.

Naomi doubled over. “I CAN’T—NOT HIM BEING THE UNO GODFATHER.”

Juno laughed so hard her sides hurt. Through the chaos, her gaze kept drifting to Roman—steady, composed, child tucked safe in his arms.

Her chest squeezed. God, she loved this man.

“DRAW FOUR!” Naomi shouted.

“FUCK YOUUUUU!” Jimmy yelled.

“Swear jar!” Rhea chimed.

“Bitch I already tithed!” Jimmy fired back.

“BRUH NOT THE CHURCH REFERENCES,” Jey hollered.

Jimmy fanned himself. “Yo, I’m DONE. This game stressed me the fuck out.”

“Yo ass been stressed since the first reverse,” Naomi shot back.

Roman, cool. “That’s why we play it.”

“You just mad ‘cause we gunnin’ for you first,” Juno teased, smirking.

“SEE?!” Jimmy wailed. “Even SHE in on it now!”

Roman smiled softly as Juno reached under the table and brushed her fingers along his forearm. He caught the touch and laced their fingers gently.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

“Better than good,” Juno whispered. “Way better.”

Roman’s smile kicked soft—just for her.

Jimmy leaned back. “I need water. I need prayer.”

“You need Uno lessons,” Naomi grinned.

And as Juno watched Roman there—the calm heart in this storm—one truth wrapped around her like a vow:

She was already his.

She always would be.

The air in the condo felt warmer now—thick with lingering laughter and the scent of salty snacks and candle wax. The game finally lay abandoned, cards scattered like confetti across the table.

Jimmy leaned back in his chair, fanning himself with a random Uno card. “Yo... I need a fuckin’ nap. That game took years off my life.”

“You need Uno lessons,” Naomi shot back, grinning as she leaned over to pick at the chips.

“Bro was sweatin’ like he was on the field during a game,” Jey added, shaking his head.

“Man, y’all plotted against me from the first round.” Jimmy looked around dramatically. “Even Juno got her shots in!”

Juno smirked, leaning back against the couch. “You made it too easy.”

Rhea laughed. “Damn, she fully family now.”

“Been family,” Roman said softly. Then, with a glance at Juno: “Been mine.”

Juno’s breath caught—simple words, low and sure. She felt them settle in her chest like a promise.

Roman shifted slightly, careful not to jostle the small body tucked against his chest. Luna was still asleep, one tiny fist curled near her mouth, her soft breathing steady.

“You sure she good there?” Jey asked.

Roman nodded. “She’s fine.” His thumb traced gentle circles on Luna’s back. “My best win of the night.”

“You already look like a whole damn daddy,” Naomi teased. “Uno mob boss and daddy of the year.”

Roman’s mouth curved. “I multitask.”

The table cracked up again, though the laughter had softened now—worn at the edges from the earlier chaos.

Juno let her gaze rest on him. The way he sat there—quiet strength wrapped around their little girl, calm and steady—filled her with a kind of warmth she couldn’t name. She loved this man more fiercely than words could hold.

Jimmy stood with a groan. “I’mma head out before I end up fundin’ the swear jar again.”

“Too late for that,” Rhea said. “You already owe enough to cover a whole dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jimmy grinned. “Next game night I’m bringin’ exact change.”

Naomi snorted. “And new excuses.”

Rhea winked. “And a damn towel.”

Jey laughed. “And a new swear jar.”

Jimmy threw his hands up. “Man, y’all hell.”

Roman’s mouth twitched. “Ain’t nobody forced you to cuss.”

“Mob boss talkin’ now,” Jimmy muttered, grabbing his jacket.

As the cousins moved toward the door, voices fading into playful goodbyes, Roman glanced toward Juno. “You need a minute?”

She smiled. “I’ll see them out.”

As the others said their goodbyes—laughter echoing toward the front door—Juno lingered for a beat, watching Roman stroke Luna’s back in slow, soothing motions.

When the door finally closed and the condo settled into quiet again, she padded back over to the couch, her heart already full.

Roman glanced up. “All good?”

“All good.” She sank down beside him, curling one leg beneath her. Her voice softened. “You handled all that like a champ.”

He smirked. “They easy work.”

“And her?” Juno reached out, smoothing a stray curl from Luna’s cheek.

Roman’s voice dipped lower. “My whole heart, baby.” He glanced at her. “Both of you.”

The words landed deep—soft and sure and certain.

Juno’s throat tightened. “Right back at you.”

They sat like that for a long moment—couch warm beneath them, condo lights low, the city glowing quietly outside the windows.

Roman shifted slightly, angling toward her without disturbing Luna. “You did good tonight.”

“Mm?” Juno’s smile was sleepy-soft now.

“Didn’t just watch.” His eyes twinkled. “You talked your shit, too.”

She grinned. “Learned from the best.”

Roman leaned in, brushing his lips against her temple. “You mine, you know.”

“I know,” she whispered.

Juno watched them—her man, their girl—her heart full to bursting.

This was home.

She was already his.

She always would be.

🏷️🖤✨ @star017 @sheaabuttaababyy @tribalqueen20 @trippinsorrows @mamis-girly

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[thehusbandoden]

Not Even if I Tried -Bestfriend! Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

A/n: Just a quick draft I wrote last night

Not finished editing yet tho so sorry!

Genre: angst to fluff | wc: | happy ending | posted: 6/12/25

Trigger warnings!: misunderstanding, argument, jealousy, Bakugo grabs onto y/n’s wrist

“Come on y/n you know it’s not like that!” Bakugo protests, following you as you storm out of the building.  

“You *promised* me Katsuki! You lie and say you’re busy with work and then I find out you’re doing this?!”  

“Y/n it’s not what it looks like.” Bakugo snarls, reaching to grab your wrist. You jerk back, but he holds strong. “Listen to me.” His gruff voice is softer, gentler. It calms you down, but only a little bit.   

“Go ahead and explain yourself away for the thousandth time.”  

“That woman was a civilian who I saved in the hostage situation. She only has a certain times she is allowed out of supervision due to safety precautions they take, the LOV Is after her because she has some very valuable information. They wouldn’t let me see her for some damn reason, and so the only thing left to do was to bring her out, while being guarded, so she could tell me what she saw and heard.”  

“She wanted to go out with you Katsuki.” You sigh, your shoulders dropping as you give up on fighting. “Everyone wants to go out with you.”  

Bakugo snorts in disbelief, which only manages to piss you off further. “Whatever you say y/n. But seriously, I’m sorry I didn’t take you to dinner for your birthday.”  

You said that last time. And the time before that. My birthday was three weeks ago Suki.”  

“Well le t me make it up to you. We’ll order something nice and have dinner at my place. Just you, and me. I’ll turn off my phone, unplug the tvs, lock the doors and close all the blinds. Just us two.”  

“Like you would do that for silly old me.” You snort under your breathe, causing Bakugo to freeze.  

“What did you just say?”  

“I said- you know what never mind. It’s not like you would. Care anyways.  

“Yes I would! Y/n you’re being a pain.”  

“Oh so I’m the pain? Me, not you, the one who ditched his supposed best friend several times in a row now!”  

“You know I can’t do much when it comes to work y/n!”  

“There’s always an excuse with you! Just tell me you hate me already!” You spit, regretting the words as soon as they leave your mouth. Bakugo’s grip immediately falters, and his hand slips from your wrist. You take a step back as you stare at the man, he was dumbfounded.  

“Hate you? Y/n I could never hate you. Not even  if I tried.”  

Your mouth is dry, so you swallow trying to get the moisture back. “R-really?” You whisper, it comes out in a hoarse whisper. “yes really.”  

“W-what do you mean by that?”  

“I think we both know what I mean by that, y/n.” Bakugo whispers, gently taking your hands and pulling you closer to him.  

“W-what?” Your cheeks warm as one of his hands slips to cup your cheek, the other resting at the back of your head as he pulls you into a kiss, gentle and cautios at frst, utnil it starts growing into something more. Something desperate, something hungry. He kisses you for a good 30 seconds before pulling away, slightly out of breath.  

“You and me, Saturday night. Deal?” He whispers in your ear. All you can do is nod as you feel your heart race and your knees grow weak.  

“Good.” He kisses your cheek and then struts away, his cheesy grin stuck on his face.  

[soulofapatrick]

It Was Always You - Bucky Barnes x female reader

Summary: Bucky finds you sitting on the rooftop of the Avengers tower

Warnings: none; fluff

Word count: 1.4K

Notes: I am alive but very tired so this may not be good

Y/N's POV

The rooftop is quieter than usual tonight. That rare kind of quiet, like the world’s holding its breath.

Below, the compound has finally gone still. Doors shut. Lights dimmed. Even the restlessness that usually hums in the halls has settled—whether into sleep or the practiced art of pretending. Up here, it’s different. Removed. The noise of the city floats upward like steam off pavement, distant and gentle. From this height, it doesn’t feel real. Just a faint, steady thrum: the hush of late-night traffic, the bark of a dog down some unseen alley, the occasional rattle of a streetlight in the breeze.

It’s a kind of stillness I crave when my thoughts are too loud.

I draw my knees into my chest, hoodie sleeves pushed over my hands, and breathe in steam from the chipped ceramic mug I brought with me. The tea is still warm—cinnamon, faintly sweet, comforting in its familiarity. It tastes like safety. Like a held breath finally released.

Above me, the sky does its best to shine despite the stubborn glow of the city. A handful of stars press through the light haze like timid children peeking through curtains, tentative but brave. They're imperfect—blurred by smog, softened by cloud—but they’re there. They’re trying.

Kind of like me.

I don't know when the rooftop became my sanctuary. Maybe it was always going to be. Something about the open sky, the absence of expectation, the way no one demands anything from me up here. Or maybe—maybe—it’s because some part of me always hopes he’ll come looking.

And, like clockwork, the roof door creaks open.

I don’t turn. I don’t need to.

His presence rolls in like a tide—quiet, assured, utterly familiar. I know the weight of his footsteps, the particular rhythm of his approach: steady but cautious, like he's never quite sure he’s welcome even when he’s needed.

“Hey,” Bucky says softly, almost apologetically. “Figured I’d find you up here.”

I smile into my tea. “Figured you would.”

The concrete shifts under his weight as he settles beside me. No hesitation. No awkwardness. We’ve done this before—enough times that our movements feel choreographed by something older than muscle memory. I glance at him sidelong. That navy sweater again—the one I secretly love, sleeves shoved carelessly to his elbows. His hair is tied back in a loose knot, a few rebellious strands escaping to frame his jaw.

He smells like leather and something woodsy, like pine warmed by sunlight, and—somehow—mint. It’s ridiculous how grounding that scent has become.

He doesn’t speak right away. Doesn’t need to. The silence between us has never been empty. It breathes. Lives. And in it, something unspoken hums beneath the surface.

“You okay?” he asks eventually, voice gentled even further by the dark.

I nod, still watching the lights scatter across the horizon. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” he murmurs, nudging my knee with his.

I huff a laugh. “You’re one to talk.”

He grins, and for a while, we just… sit. Let the night wrap around us. Let the world shrink to the space between our shoulders. There’s a version of Bucky that only exists after dark, when the air is soft and expectations are low. When his armor slips, and the man underneath breathes easier. He belongs to the quiet.

Maybe I do, too.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” I say, voice barely a whisper.

His body stills almost imperceptibly. Then he turns, giving me his full attention like he always does when I speak—as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist, as if I’m the only thing that does.

“Yeah?”

My fingers tighten around the mug. My heart stumbles.

“It’s dumb. Or—no, just hard to say.”

Without a word, he reaches over and takes the mug from my hands, setting it aside. Then, with infinite gentleness, he slides his real hand into mine—warm, rough, grounding—and cradles it like something precious.

“Nothing you say is dumb. Not to me,” he murmurs, and the rawness in his voice punches straight through me.

“I’m scared,” I admit. “That if I say it, everything changes. That I lose this. Lose you.”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. His thumb strokes the back of my hand, slow and steady, his touch a lifeline.

“You won’t lose me.”

I glance up. His eyes—those ocean-hued, storm-churned eyes—are open in a way I rarely see. Not just vulnerable. Hopeful.

“I love you,” I say, and it trembles out of me like a secret too heavy to carry alone. “I think I have for a long time. I just didn’t know if I was allowed to.”

His brow creases, stunned disbelief flickering through his expression. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

“Because you’ve been through hell. You deserve peace. A clean slate. And I’m just…” I trail off, voice brittle. “I’m just me.”

Bucky lets out a laugh—quiet, broken, incredulous—and it shatters the silence like sunlight through frost.

“You think peace doesn’t include you?”

“I hoped it might,” I say softly. “But I didn’t know for sure.”

He shifts closer, his metal hand rising to cup my face with the same careful reverence he uses when cleaning his knife or reading an old book. “You are my peace,” he says, and the words feel like prayer. “You’re why I sleep through the night now. Why I laugh. Hell, I sing along to the radio because of you.”

That breaks something in me, and I laugh through the sting in my eyes. “You sing?”

He leans in, conspiratorial. “Don’t spread it around. Got a reputation.”

We’re grinning, both of us, soft and foolish and utterly undone. It feels like something breaking open and mending all at once. And when I reach for him—hands fisting in the worn cotton of his sweater—it feels like gravity has finally pulled us home.

His forehead touches mine. His breath hitches. Mine catches in response.

And then—finally—he kisses me.

It’s unhurried. Tender. A quiet unraveling.

His lips are warm, sure, reverent. Like he’s memorizing the feel of me, the shape of the moment. The kiss deepens, not out of urgency, but need—something quiet and steady that’s been building for longer than either of us dared admit. His metal hand cups my cheek, cool and grounding. His real hand anchors mine in his lap.

And I burn.

I slide my fingers into his hair, feel the soft tug of it between my hands, and he exhales—this low, rough sound that sparks heat in my stomach and turns my bones to smoke. His other hand curls around my waist, not to claim, but to hold. To keep.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he murmurs, lips brushing mine.

“Then do it again,” I whisper, breathless, eyes half-lidded.

And he does.

This time the kiss is fuller. Deeper. His tongue brushes mine and I melt, feeling everything all at once. Every inch of him. Every heartbeat. Every whispered vow that never made it past the lips before now.

When we part again, it's only because we have to breathe. He rests his forehead against mine, both of us shaking.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says hoarsely. “I don’t think you even realize.”

“I could say the same to you.”

His smile is soft. Vulnerable. “You make me feel human again.”

“You are,” I say, pressing my palm against his chest where his heart drums wildly. “You always have been. You just forgot for a while.”

He kisses me again, slower now. Deliberate. His hand slips beneath my hoodie, fingertips tracing delicate circles against my skin. He isn’t rushing. He’s learning. Revering. And every touch feels like a promise.

That this is real. That I am seen. That we are not broken anymore.

Bucky pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his voice low and honest.

“This doesn’t have to be perfect.”

I nod. “No. Just honest.”

He exhales, and it sounds like relief. Like redemption.

“Then let me be honest,” he says.

And when he kisses me again—arms around me, the city quiet, the stars trying their best above us—I know, without a doubt…

This is only the beginning.

Tag List Form MCU Masterlist

[applepiiex]

Hello if it possible can I request a one shot with Nanami and (AMAB) male!reader. They've been dating for a while and Nanami has noticed that whenever the topic of sex is brought up his boyfriend always seems to shy away. At first he assumed they weren't into sex but after one night reader tries to start something but backs off immediately. Reader confesses it would be their first time and they're insecure about it and Nanami decides to guide them through their first time being sure they're prepared to take him and going slowly and gently. Hope this is good thank you!

YOUR PACE ! ! ! -`♡´-

Nanami Kento x Male!Reader - NSFW

Nanami Kento is a patient man, especially with you. He always lets you set the pace, always lets your move on your own tune, and is always there to follow suit. However, when you keep toeing the line of sex, he’s more than happy to hold your hand and lead you down this new path.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹ ⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Nanami doesn’t rush things. He never has. Not with his coffee, not with his books, and certainly not with you. So when seven months into dating you start to shy away every time things get close, he notices. When kisses deepen or hands linger, he doesn’t press. He simply reads the room and redirects, always with a quiet brush of his thumb over your wrist, always with a soft “It’s alright.”

You assumed he'd get frustrated eventually. You assumed wrong. It isn't until a quiet night in his apartment, blankets thrown messily across the floor, some old jazz record crackling low in the background, that you surprise both of you.

Your hand slips under his shirt first. Timid. Testing. His eyes flick up to meet yours, steady as ever. He says nothing. Just watches. Just waits. And for a moment, you think maybe tonight is the night. Maybe you can do this. But the second his fingers graze your waistband, your breath hitches and not in the good way. The world tilts. Your chest tightens.

You pull back fast. Too fast. "I'm sorry," you blurt out. "I'm so sorry, I— I thought I could, but I can’t—"

Nanami sits up slowly. He doesn't touch you. Doesn't crowd you. "Hey," he says softly. "You're okay. You're completely okay."

You cover your face with your hands. "I just... I’ve never done this before. At all. Not with anyone. And I know I should probably be over it but it’s just—"

"—a big deal," he finishes for you. "And you don’t need to explain if you’re not ready."

You look at him then, “I want to,” you admit. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing. And I’m scared it won’t feel good. Or I’ll get something wrong. Or you’ll see me and—”

He interrupts, not with words, but with a kiss. Slow and sure, a gentle grounding. "I would never rush you," he murmurs when he pulls away. “We can stop any time. But if you want to try, I’ll be with you every step. We’ll take our time. We’ll go slow. I’ll help you feel ready.”

You nod, tentative.

"Do you trust me?" he asks.

You answer without hesitation, “I do."

He prepares everything gently. Warm light. Extra pillows. A bottle of water set nearby. Your hands fumble at his shirt, tugging it up, and he lifts his arms to help, then lets you rest your palms on his bare chest.

You don’t look up. “Baby,” he murmurs, “breathe.”

“I’m okay,” you say. It's mostly true. But when his fingers drift low, resting at the edge of your waistband, you freeze. Your breath stutters. Your body, traitorous, tenses.

Nanami stills immediately. “Too fast?”

You shake your head and then nod. “I… I thought I could.”

He sits up a little, eyes searching yours. “You don’t have to explain,” he says gently. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know, but…” You push your hands through your hair, frustrated. “God, I feel stupid. I wanted this—want this. But I panic, and—”

“You’re not stupid,” he says, firm but soft. “You're brave. For even trying.”

You glance away. “What if I mess it up?”

“There’s nothing to mess up,” he says, reaching out to brush your cheek with the backs of his fingers. “This isn’t a test. It’s us. And if you want to stop at any point, we stop.”

You nod slowly, still chewing on your lip. “I’m just scared it won’t feel good. Or that you’ll see me and… I don’t know.”

Nanami leans in then, close enough for his words to fall like a promise.

“I will see you,” he says. “Not what you think I expect. Just you. And I want to take care of you. Only if you want that too.”

You take a breath. “I do,” you whisper. “I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

His hand slides into yours. “Then let me guide you,” he says, voice low and warm. “We’ll go slow. I’ll talk you through everything. We’ll move one step at a time. You’re not alone.”

You squeeze his hand. “Okay.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good. We’ll start with what feels good. That’s all that matters tonight.”

His touches are light, checking in constantly. He doesn’t just want to be inside you. He wants to be with you. To make sure you feel safe in your body and in his arms. Nanami presses a kiss to your cheek. Then your jaw. Then your neck. He doesn’t ask you to lie back. Doesn’t take control. He waits, hand still in yours, until your fingers tighten just a little.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, shifting slowly so that you’re both lying side by side, facing each other. “Let me know if anything doesn’t feel good. No guessing. Just tell me.”

You nod, eyes wide and searching. His hands move carefully, no rush, no assumptions. He starts with your shoulders, then your chest, mapping you with his palms. Every time you tense, he pauses. Every time you breathe easier, he moves a little lower.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I like your hands.”

He smiles softly. “I like you.” You laugh. Quiet, self-conscious, and he leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth, murmuring, “Good. That’s the point.”

When he touches lower, he does it with reverence. He avoids euphemisms or anatomical language unless you use it first. He reads your body like it's a language he wants to become fluent in, not one he expects to already know.

He guides you too, gently taking your hand, helping you explore him. “Just like that,” he says, breath catching. “You’re doing so well,” he whispers as you softly stroke him while he massages the erection in your sweat pants.

By the time he's beginning to prep you, he’s kissed every stretch mark, every scar, every place you used to hide. His touch is steady, and he talks you through it. Not clinically, but calmly. Like you matter. Like this matters. He brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear and looks at you with that calm, steady gaze you know so well.

“Okay, before we start,” Nanami says softly, “I want to explain a bit about what’s going on. No surprises. Just so you know what to expect.”

You nod, swallowing the knot in your throat.

“The first time can feel a little uncomfortable,” he continues, “because your body is adjusting to something new. Your muscles down there, especially your pelvic floor muscles, are probably tight because you’re nervous or unsure. That’s normal. The key is to relax them as much as you can. It’s okay if you can’t right away.”

His hand slides to rest gently on your lower belly. “When I move in, it’s important to listen to your body. If you feel pressure, that’s fine. But pain means stop. Always.”

You glance up at him, your eyes wide.

“Also, I’m going to use my fingers first, one at a time,” he says, voice soft but clear. “That helps your body get used to the feeling gradually, instead of all at once. We’ll start slow, and I’ll watch your reactions closely.”

You nod, legs shaking slightly. “What if I can’t take it?”

He leans down and kisses the center of your chest. “Then we stop,” he says. “This isn’t a goal. It’s an experience. I want it to feel good for you. That’s all I care about.”

You squeeze his arm, grounding.

He shifts closer, his thumb tracing tiny circles on your hip bone. “Your first time isn’t about performance or going fast,” Nanami says, “it’s about connection and trust. Your body doesn’t have natural lubrication like women do. So we’ll use lube, which is perfectly normal and okay.”

You breathe out slowly, feeling some of the tension ease away.

“I’m going to be right here with you,” he adds, fingers intertwining with yours. “I’ll watch for any signs you want to pause or slow down. And if anything feels off, we stop immediately. No questions.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, but you trust him.

He kisses your forehead gently “Ready?”

You nod.

“I’m going to use my fingers first,” he repeats, voice low and even. “Just one at a time. Let your body tell me what’s okay. Breathe with me, alright?”

And he’s true to his word. Every motion is careful, devoted, almost reverent as if he’s memorizing the map of your body with his hands alone. He kisses you as he works you open, slow and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world. Like he wants to take all the time in the world.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says, voice low, brushing against your ear. “I mean it, sweetheart.”

The lube is cool at first, a shiver running down your spine as it slides between your thighs, but his hands—warm and steady—chase the cold away. He rubs slow circles into your hips, grounding you as the first stretch hits.

It’s sharp. Bright. Fire through your nerves that you hadn’t braced for. Your body locks up for a breath, and the sting has your eyes watering before you even realize you’re crying. But then,

“Oh, baby—”

His mouth is on your cheek before the first tear can fall. A kiss. A murmur. A hand slipping into yours, anchoring you. You feel the weight of him all around you, not pressing in but holding space. Safe. Solid. Present.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, lips brushing your temple. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

You do. You try. And when you nod, when your body eases the slightest bit, he resumes—slower this time, watching every change in your face like scripture.

Each finger is its own journey: burn to ache, ache to warmth, warmth to want. He praises you with every inch you give.

“There you go,” he breathes. “You’re doing so well.”

The stretch starts to feel good, even through the sting. Your back arches into him. Your hands curl into his shoulders. You chase his voice with your breath, like it’s guiding you somewhere deeper.

Tears still come—not from pain now, but from the sheer intensity of it all. The tenderness. The care. The way he wipes them away like they’re precious things, not flaws.

His forehead finds yours as he fits a third finger inside, the breath catching in his throat.

“God,” he whispers, like a prayer meant only for you. “You’re perfect.”

You gasp, whimpering as your body yields to him.

“You’re taking me so well,” he murmurs, his voice shaky with awe. “Just like this. You’re ready, baby. You’re more than ready.”

Your arms wrap around him. His lips find yours again. When he finally pushes in, it's with an exhale, not a thrust. You feel full, but not overwhelmed. And more than anything—you feel held.

Nanami keeps his eyes locked on yours, one hand cradling the back of your neck, the other splayed wide across your lower back.

“Still okay?” he asks, voice quiet but so full of care it steals the breath from your lungs.

You nod quickly, a small, watery laugh catching in your throat. “More than okay.”

Nanami kisses your cheek like he’s sealing your answer into skin, his hand brushing the damp strands of hair away from your temple. And when he starts to move again, it’s with that same reverence. No rush. No urgency. Just him, learning the rhythm of your body like it’s a song he wants to play forever.

The pace is slow. Achingly so. Not teasing, not testing. Just gentle. Intentional. He rocks into you like a heartbeat, like each movement is tethered to the thrum of his love for you. There are breaks. Long ones, where he doesn’t move at all, just holds you. His arms wrapped around your back, chest to chest, forehead to forehead. You feel his breath on your lips before you taste the kiss he leaves there. Feel the softness in his voice when he murmurs how good you feel, how beautiful you are like this.

“How proud I am of you,” he whispers, one hand trailing up your spine. “Of how far we’ve come.”

Your lip trembles. You weren’t expecting to cry again. But you do. Not because it hurts. Because it doesn’t. Because there’s no shame, no fear, no performing. Just Nanami loving you fully, without hesitation. The way his body shields yours. The way he cradles your face when he thinks you’re too quiet. The way he says your name like it’s the answer to something he’s been searching for his entire life.

And maybe it is.

The tears slip out soundlessly, but he notices. Of course he does. He pulls back just enough to look at you, thumb brushing along your cheek as he presses a kiss to each tear like they’re blessings instead of breaks.

You don’t have the words. But maybe you don’t need them. Because when he slides his fingers through yours and brings your hand to his heart, you feel it there, steady, sure, beating like it knows you.

It doesn’t feel like sex. It feels like home.

“Kento— I’m close,” you mumble, voice catching between each breath, each slow, overwhelming wave of him inside you. Your body trembles, caught between the edge of bliss and the flood that’s about to crash through you.

And Nanami—steady, unwavering Nanami—doesn’t tell you to wait. Doesn’t coax you to hold it back. He doesn’t make it about control or restraint. He just nods, presses a kiss to your shoulder, and gently wraps his hand around you, pumping in a slow rhythm that matches the softness of his voice.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “You can let go. I’ve got you. I promise.”

His words settle in your chest like warmth, like permission, like love. Every inch of him says he means it, the way his body holds yours, the way his hand never falters, the way his forehead rests against the side of your face, like he’s anchoring you to the world.

Your breath stutters, a broken sound that turns into a moan, and then… You fall apart. Not fast. Not all at once. But slowly, beautifully, like your body trusts his enough to shatter in pieces and still be safe. Your release comes in a trembling flood, your voice breaking around his name, and Nanami stays right there, holding you through it. Whispering things you can barely hear but feel in your bones.

“That’s it. You’re doing so well. I’ve got you.”

His arm curls around your waist, keeping you close as your body jolts with the aftershocks. He doesn’t stop touching you, not really. His hand gentles to a soothing glide, more caress than stimulation, grounding you as you blink through the haze. You’re shaking. Breathing too hard. But Nanami’s kiss to your temple is the balm you didn’t know you needed.

You barely manage a whisper. “I love you.”

And you feel it, how his whole body softens around you like the words filled him up.

“I love you,” he says, without hesitation. “More than anything.”

You curl into his chest, breath still ragged, but there’s no panic now. No fear. Because he meant it. He’s got you. He always will.

Afterward, you curl into him, face tucked under his chin, body still trembling. He wraps you up, all the way around. You lie tangled together in the soft quiet that follows, your chest still rising and falling in uneven breaths. Nanami’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies fit like puzzle pieces.

“You did really well,” he murmurs, voice low and steady.

You turn your head into his shoulder, cheeks warm. “I was so nervous. I wasn’t sure I could do it.”

He kisses the top of your head. “I know. And that’s why I’m proud of you. You trusted me, and you let yourself feel it all. That takes courage.”

You let out a shaky breath, heart pounding but calmer now. Nanami’s fingers trace lazy circles on your back. “How are you feeling? Physically, I mean.”

You shrug slightly. “A little sore, but not bad. Mostly just… overwhelmed.”

He hums softly. “That makes sense. Sex can be a lot physically. Your muscles need time to relax and recover.”

He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a bottle of water, offering it to you. “Drink this. Staying hydrated helps with recovery.”

You take it gratefully, feeling the cool water soothe your throat. Nanami climbs out of bed and returns with a warm washcloth. Gently, he wipes your forehead and the side of your face, slow and soothing.

“If you want, I can run you a warm bath. It might help ease any soreness and help you relax.”

You nod, your skin tingling from his gentle touch. “That sounds nice.”

He smiles softly. “Good. And if anything feels uncomfortable later, we can use a little pain relief or more lube next time. There’s no rush or pressure.”

You snuggle closer. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

He kisses your temple. “Always. You’re important to me. Mind and body.”

You close your eyes, feeling safe and deeply cared for, wrapped in warmth beyond the skin.

[melancholymetropolis]

Hey :) I was just wondering if you’ll be continuing the Stack x black reader fic. Your writing is immaculate by the way. I understand if you’re unable to as you might be busy.

“As you wish, sweetheart," Bill replied with a kiss.

I let myself melt into his embrace. Blindly, I followed his gentle guidance to our bed. The back of my knees hit the plush duvet, and I slowly lowered my rear upon it. It was then that Bill broke our kiss. He dropped to his knees without a second thought. His hands were pushing the nightie up my legs before I could blink. He placed hot kisses on my bare thighs earning moans from me.

One strong hand was placed on stomach, Bill pushed my body towards the bed until my back was flat against it. 

"Just relax, baby," he says, dragging his tongue over my covered folds. "I got you."

No matter how long we've been together, or how many times he puts his head between my legs, William will always reassure me. Always tell me that he has me. He'll keep me safe. He'll make me feel real good. Bill doesn't need to say this, his actions speaks for themselves. It feels good that he does, though. Showed me that my safety was his first priority. My vulnerability was protected. His love was a divine shield. 

I could always count on him, even in the pits of hell. William Chow will be by my side. A self appointed guardian.

His tongue dragged across the covered damp folds, before his nose pressed against the seat of my panties. Bill inhaled deeply, kneading my thighs tenderly. "How much do you want me, baby?"

"So much, my love," I purred, adjusting my position so I'm resting on my elbows. "Are you gonna make me feel good?"

"Of course, darling," he replied, moving my damp panties to the side. "I'm gonna make you scream."

His soft lips found my pearl instantly and gave it a gentle suck. My legs twitched and my breath hitched. Bill releases the bud. His hot tongue slithers down my slit until the bunched up underwear. Groaning in frustration, he lifted his head from my warm center and took hold of the underwear. I lifted my hips from the bed and allowed him to yank the fabric down my legs. His mouth was back on my heat before I could blink. Lapping and licking in feverish succession.

My back started to arch from the mattress as his fingers found my entrance. They sunk in the leaky crevice slowly. A throaty moan poured from me as they immediately hooked upward. My fingers gripped the bedsheets fiercely, as my toes curled upon his back. My mouth released hot short breaths as the pressure took over every fiber of my being. 

"Baby, please. . . please," the words left my lips before I consciously knew what I said. 

I had no idea what I was begging for and why. Please don't stop? Please keep going? Bill didn't need me to remind him of my needs. He anticipated them. He knew my body just as well as I did. Knew when to drive me wild. When to keep me wanting more. Or, when to give me everything in quick succession. Surrendering it all to me before any second thoughts. It had been one of those nights. The need to burn off the Stack debacle so great it had to happen quickly. Our passion is like gasoline on an abandoned fire. We needed to show each other just how much we loved one another. How active and ferocious that love was. No one could come between us, not even a past lover. 

He had nothing on my husband.

The climax fell upon me like a bucket of water. Shocking and intense. My eyes squeezed shut as my grip on the sheets intensified as the wave of pleasure drove me over. My hips bucked against his lips as hot pants left my lips. 

“Oh God. . . Bill,” I slurred, tossing my head to the side. “Don’t stop. . .”

And he didn’t. The pleasure was intense, but soothing. It was consistent and relentless. Just like my husband. 

After the second wave spilled from me, Bill started kissing up my curly mound and plush stomach. He lifted the nightgown up along the way. Once he reached my breasts, Bill sucked in a breath. He stared at them, still covered in satin. He licked his lips, wanting nothing other than to have them in his mouth.  I lifted my back from the bed and continued to raise the dress over my head. His mouth was back on me the moment I tossed the dress to the side. The searing kiss on my lips was almost startling— his need was stronger than I’d ever seen it. My hands blindly reached for his waistband. I could feel the firmness of his member and it gave me shivers all over. 

William Chow was big.

Almost as long as a standard ruler with a decent amount of girth. 

I always cursed the gods for giving the condition. It was almost like they were taunting me. Dangling the beautifully curved, veined shaft in my face. Knowing that I will not be able to enjoy it completely. Knowing I couldn’t do every filthy thing that crossed my mind the moment I first saw it. Couldn’t ride it like a stallion, in fear that I might break my husband further. I couldn’t suck on it like a lollipop, since it would take too much effort to get my desired result. Couldn’t stick it between my breasts and lick the tip. Couldn’t tie him up and palm it until he spilled. Couldn’t have Bill bend me over the counter and fuck me like the world was ending. Couldn’t take every inch of him and utter “I love you” while looking into his eyes. 

Bill pulled back just a little bit to shove his pants off, exposing the glistening glory. He was harder than I had ever seen. Veins pulsing on the side. Slit oozing and red. He looked absolutely delectable. I ran my eyes over his member again and noticed something. . . different. His heavy balls were not hanging freely as they usually were— they were lifted. A subtle glint caught my eye the closer I looked at the abnormality. 

“What did you. . . ?” I trailed off, raising my eyes to meet his. 

“I found a book about ancient pleasure methods recently and had a leather smith fashion me something called a ‘cock ring’,” Bill replied, climbing on the bed. Massive body hovering over my plump one. “It is supposed to help erections last for upward of an hour, depending on how tight it is.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” I said with a worried expression on my face.

Bill’s face softens at my words. A mixture of adoration and sadness sank into his brown eyes. The realization that my love was far greater than my need for erotic pleasure made his heartache. My husband leans forward and takes my chin between his fingers. He looked into my eyes with such heavy lust that I almost forgot where we were. 

“I tested it a few times this week,” he purred, pressing kisses to my face. “And it works like a charm.”

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief and blinked slowly. “Does is . . . hurt at all?”

“Nope,” he replied, lips hovering over mine. “It feels fucking amazing.”

The following liplock was breathtaking. His tongue pushed into my mouth, just as he rested body between my legs. His pelvis was perfectly lined up with my warmth. Bill rolled his hips as his tongue explored my mouth intimately. The feel of his hard member against my womanhood was slowly driving me insane. To feel its capabilities after years of oral and finger play was a relief. A goddamn blessing. The need to be filled by him was growing by the second and my legs opened wider to accept more of his body. 

My back was flat against the mattress and my legs were in the air before I realized what was happening. Bill had positioned the head of his member to my heat and started to push into me. I sucked in a breath and held it. Inch by glorious inch I took his cock into my dampened center. Moaning and groaning at the beautiful stretch. My husband watched his disappearing cock in utter disbelief. We had never made it this far. He was never hard long enough for him to fill me completely. That night was the first night I took all of him and it took a little while to adjust. But, Bill was happy to wait as long as I needed. Like the saint he was.

He started to gently rock against me. His movements were hesitant and delayed. It was almost as if he were waiting for his cock to soften at any given moment. When it hadn’t, after two minutes of straight humping, Bill’s focus turned to me. He took both my wrists in his palm and pinned them above my head. He hooked his arm under my thigh and widened my legs a little more. Pushing himself deeper into me. The assertive nature was a surprise since he was usually a love-sick puppy in bed. I was the one in charge most days, as he always prioritized my comfort. However, with the improvement of his equipment, it seemed the roles were beginning to reverse. I wasn’t upset about it, quite the opposite.

Gradually, the hesitant thrusts increased in speed and power. The headboard was probably gonna leave a dent with how hard it was hitting the wall. My lower half was glued to the mattress as my breasts bounced against my chest. My eyes were tightly shut and my head tossed to the side. The moans leaving my body were one of an animal. They were brutal, hoarse, and downright unsexy to my ears. But, they meant the world to Bill. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

Without a word, Bill raised my legs higher. Instead, of being settled at his sides, he lifted my knees from the bed and pressed them into the mattress. Spreading me wide open in the process, which pushed his cock even deeper inside of me. The same force was returned along with the speed. I felt my curls begin to on their own and my moans grew quieter. The pleasure was so good, that I couldn’t bring myself to vocalize it. I didn’t have the energy. I could feel myself pulse around him and my walls grew slicker. My eyes rolled back as I gripped the sheets harder— effectively ripping them from the bed. 

“There we go,” Bill cooed. “That’s the face I was looking for. Are you gonna come me, darling?”

“Yes. . .” I moaned softly. “I’m so close, baby.”

The pristine movements of his hips began to falter and his breath slowly became jagged. He was close as well, but I knew he wouldn’t vocalize it. He wanted me to enjoy every second of this moment. It was the first time we had physically ever been this close and it made my heart sing. It almost felt like our Honeymoon night, when we both had something to prove. For me, it was gratitude and affection. For Bill, it was the dedication to our little family. 

But, that wasn’t the first time he proved his worth to me.

Madeline had been six months at the time, and I was still in the throws of grief from my past relationship with Stack. She was looking more and more like him every day. Then, add the letters and flowers that kept arriving at my door every few weeks from him. I couldn’t read them, I knew they would make me feel even worse. But, for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to burn them. Bill was a saint during that period of my life. He, practically, moved into my small house back then. Visiting every day before heading to work and every night before heading home. He always made sure that I bathed and ate. Practically spoon-feeding me oatmeal and stuffing bread in my mouth. He would change Madeline’s diapers and wash the soiled ones while I rested. Hang them out to dry overnight and fold them up in the morning. At that point, he was just Uncle Billy, the name gave himself. 

He became Daddy when Madeline had a fever. The weather had left the house cold some nights, and we had run out of firewood. Seven-month-old Maddy had started to burn up and I couldn’t handle it. I tried everything from cool rags on her forehead to spoons of broth throughout the day. Her temperature would not go down. I knew I couldn’t go to Annie— the sight of a sick baby would be too much for her. Just when I was about to pack Maddy in a basket and run into town, Bill came stumbling in. He had bags of lemons, ginger, rosemary and potatoes. Bill cut the potato into small cubes and placed them on her feet with socks. Then, he brewed some herbs with his items. He fed the tea to Maddy and changed her head clothe routinely. Within the hour, her temperature went down and she was sleeping soundlessly. 

I had asked him why he came back so early and how he knew what to do. 

He had gone to Annie for me.

I felt like you needed us with you.

We were married the following month. 

The orgasm washed over the both of us like a wave. Drenching us completely in its essence. I could feel Bill’s hips pause and twitch against my lower half. His member was throbbing within my snug walls as his release filled me. 

“Fuck. . . yes. . . . Take all of it,” he growled, messily pumping into me. “Come on, sweetheart. Give Daddy another baby.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll give you twins,” I smirked. 

The smile that found Bill’s face almost split his face in two. “Is that a promise?”

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a/n: before you jump me, just know that I was BUSY. Ya girl is working full-time and attends night school. I was burnt out, almost completely. but we're getting better. slow progress is still progress y'all.

so, this is a soft return.

as usually, let me know if you wannabe on the taglist. leave a comment/ask for what you would like to see in the future.

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[ryttu3k]

Some thoughts relating to Astarion, communication, and being seen, looking at two scenes - the 'my little treat with their cheeks all flushed' conversation, and the mirror scene my beloved:

First scene I want to mention is when he's trying to seduce the PC with pick-up lines after their first encounter, and you can shut him down a bit in a more back and forth way:

Astarion: "Here's my little treat with their cheeks all flushed. You will come to my bed tonight, won't you?" PC: "'A little treat'? You can do better than that." Astarion: "Oh, I certainly can, it would be my pleasure. How about this one: when I'm with you, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again with you." PC: "Is that the best you can do?" Astarion: "Hmm, let me give it another go: every part of your perfect body whispers temptation - it's as if the Gods made you just to ruin me." PC: "You're sweet, and sillier than I thought." Astarion: "I can go on all night with the flattery, but is that really all you want? How about if I said these little words… everyone's favourite… I love you." PC: "Having fun, are you?" Astarion: "I am, it's hard not to with you. Now, as much as I relish standing around and saying all my favourite lines at you, I'd much rather we got to experience each other's full portfolio of talents once again." PC: "I'm sure we will get another chance soon. But not right now." Astarion: "I look forward to the day. Meanwhile, my hunger for you will only deepen."

This one is so interesting to me! Astarion is doing what he always does - seducing with kind of terrible pick-up lines. Except the PC is not actually having it, and is acknowledging, yeah, these are lines and this is a deliberate attempt. It's not an outright rejection of Astarion himself - you can tell him outright that he's sweet, and even if you turn down his offer, you can still say 'maybe later' (in this run, my Durge did this because he was worried about losing control again).

What strikes me about it is that it's recontextualising. Astarion used these lines to seduce Cazador's victims, and the PC knows it (one line option instead of the 'you're sweet' line is, "Did these really work on Cazador's targets?"). But by rejecting the lines in a gentle way, but still encouraging Astarion to keep doing, the PC is able to turn it into a game. Let's see how silly we can get with these pick-up lines. They've been used for pain in the past, but now they're just being used for fun, and they're not working for their intended purpose (getting sex) but Astarion isn't being rejected himself. He's still a part of the group. He's still got safety.

Now, one of my favourites - the mirror scene! Unlike the above, you can get this one platonically as well, and it serves the same purpose - subverting and gently rejecting Astarion's usual seduction routine, while still assuring him that he's a part of the group. He's not about to be abandoned, he's turning his old weapons into something playful. So long as you're not going his actual insecurities and telling him he's not attractive (and he's actually being so vulnerable in this scene!), his responses to the two different types of answers are pretty telling.

Tell him he's attractive for his vampiric traits, and he'll be grimly pleased. "Very good," he says. You're doing precisely what he wants you to do so he can maintain the seduction routine, this early on. And if you tell him he's beautiful, outright - well, he approves, but he does not look happy about it.

But tell him traits you're really seeing, like smile lines and the way his hair curls? He's disarmed. He's... not quite sure what to do with that information. The most important line to me is if you tell him one of the others are more attractive:

Oh, he's being dramatic about it, no doubt. (He's Astarion. Of course he's being dramatic about it XD) But, most importantly, he looks a lot more amused and theatrical, and he still approves. You've just told him, yeah, you're okay. I like someone else more. But I still like being around you, and having fun with you. You're in on the joke, not the butt of it. It's a much more mutual exchange, and he's both getting what he's openly asking for (being told about his appearance) and getting reassured that the PC likes him, and not just for his appearance.

And I think that the more traditional romance route is what he was expecting and wanting to hear. The other options, on the other hand, are what he needs to hear but didn’t realise it was even a possibility until now. Not that you see him as beautiful, he knows he is, he likes the reassurance that he can still use his appearance to keep himself safe. His approval with the whole, “Yeah, Karlach is beautiful, but you’re okay too :)” thing, the genuine pleasure and amusement in his voice, comes from the realisation that his new companions are seeing him, Astarion, as a person and not an object of lust. He's a friend. He has friends, who will listen to him and be playful with him.

Not Cazador’s tool, the one he’s used for two hundred years to survive. He has people on his side now, and they see him.

Silenced No More

For a while now, I really wanted to write a post about how Astarion loves to talk: how witty and playful he is, always ready with a joke or clever remark. And I wanted it to be a positive post, to be honest. But with Astarion, even such a lighthearted topic is tied to his past, especially the way he was silenced for so long.

Of course, it’s not just Astarion – all the companions enjoy talking, and who wouldn’t, when someone’s genuinely listening? Gale shares his knowledge at every turn, Shadowheart is full of sarcasm, and Lae’zel eagerly educates you on Gith culture. But with Astarion, it feels especially touching: he hides so much behind a mask, and yet he still clearly loves to talk.

Even Gale wasn’t so open to conversations at first.

Astarion: I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, Gale? Gale: Uhm... Sure. In silence.

Astarion opens up unexpectedly fast and talks about his past so early on – it is what completely disarmed me when I played for the first time.

He longs to be known, because he longs to be. I’ve touched on this in other posts, so I won’t go deep into it here, but I also think it’s just part of who he is. Talking is how he connects to the world. How he shows he exists.

There are even gameplay moments where his approval shifts based on humor, and he often engages in banter with the player character – as long as they understand when it is appropriate or not.

And it’s not just that he simply wants to talk – he enjoys the exchange, but also appreciates being heard and taken seriously, as someone who matters.

But then, there’s Cazador.

There’s a moment during their confrontation when he mocks Astarion for being talkative in the past. From Astarion’s reaction, I get the sense that this wasn’t a single insult – it was something he used to hear often. That his voice, his chatter, his attempts to express himself were something Cazador used against him.

Cazador Szarr: No, you always had a gift for words.

Cazador Szarr: I fondly remember your empty boasting, your tired jokes, your endless prattle…

Astarion: No! Shut up!

(Side note: I think they’ve changed this moment a little bit, because I clearly remember there was a close-up to your character right after Astarion’s exclamation. It showed them maybe taken aback by the intensity of his reaction. And that exact moment made me feel like they realized at that moment just how hard Astarion was fighting not to fall back into that old dynamic, not to let Cazador’s influence fill his heart again. And how difficult it was to stay grounded for him in that moment. Sorry for being sidetracked!)

And then there’s something else I've only discovered recently. I didn't even encounter that dialogue option in Act 3, where Astarion could tell you about the time he was locked in a tomb for a year. I only found this out from Tumblr. But this conversation I've seen for the first time, and it shook me a bit.

If your character tries to convince Astarion to accept the Astral-Touched tadpole, you can use illithid powers to search his mind for his worst memory that brings him “the purest terror.”

As you pick apart his mind, you discover his worst memory. That which brings him the purest terror.

Complete solitude after being disobedient. Sealed. Buried alive. Voiceless. Will this be forever?

A year of horror. Then the release. He will never disobey again.

The idea of being sealed away in total darkness, not knowing if or when you'll be released, is an unimaginable horror. That moment hit me so hard. But these words – complete solitude, voiceless – stood out the most.

Cazador knew exactly how to punish him. He stripped away not just Astarion’s freedom, but his voice – his ability to reach the outside world, to be acknowledged. That darkness wasn’t just physical – it was silence, helplessness, isolation.

It is just so painful and infuriating to think about how Astarion was treated, how Cazador always tried to silence him. And it makes it even more precious that Astarion can finally speak freely now. It must feel liberating for him.

When you show him even a little care, he tells you everything. He jokes, he flirts, he invites you to compare your companion's blood and the many ways one might choose to die. He stumbles back into the camp after an intoxicating victory to tell you all about it (and this deserves a whole post, hopefully soon!). He never seems to hesitate to voice a controversial opinion, even knowing others might not approve.

He is still guarded, still performing, but I imagine it still meant so much for him if you listen – not tolerate, dismiss or shut him down, but genuinely listen to what he has to say, laugh at his jokes, and pay attention to his words.

There’s another moment that keeps haunting my mind – if you convince him to sleep with you even after his confession in Act 2, this is what he says:

Astarion: It's almost funny. This is all a game to you, isn't it? No matter what I say, it doesn't matter. Not if you get what you want.

It is such a heartbreaking moment. He tried so hard to communicate: it’s not easy to talk about his past, his vulnerabilities, but every time he chooses to say it, because he wants to connect with you. And when he’s ignored like that, it confirms his worst fear – that what he says, what he feels, doesn’t matter. That no one is really listening.

But even in that pain, he finds a new resolve to say no. He learns to protect himself.

I love how much he talks. I really do. During my second playthrough with a new Tav, Thalyn, I was leaving Astarion at camp (to avoid temptation haha). And honestly, it felt like that game lost so much of its charm for me. I’m biased, of course, but his comments and jokes always provided a much-needed relief during stressful times of the first playthrough and waiting for what Astarion has to say about this or that became something I always anticipated.

Eventually, I missed my first Tav, Roanael, her team, and Astarion so much… I dropped that playthrough at the beginning of Act 3 and went back to rerun the first one (no regrets!)

I just hope that now, in his radiant future, no one will ever silence him again.

And maybe he will learn about another kind of silence ��� warm and gentle, the one that doesn’t need to be filled. When you can just be with someone and already be heard.

[buuberry00]

uh that fic you made of Luka gentle touches? sooo good pls pt 2 I really enjoyed it!

YAY!!! You've got it anon!!!

Gentle Touches pt. 2

luka x gn! reader

c.w: mentions of medical injuries, spoilers for wiege, angst, brandings, descriptions of malnourishment, mentions of hallucinations + obsession, mentions of abuse, clingy! luka, somewhat noncanon alnst lore/timeline

please read at your own discretion!

────୨ৎ────

picking up right where we left off...

Luka clings to you as you pick him up - one hand under his knees, your other supporting his back - holding onto you as you guide him to his makeshift bed. Luka sits still, quietly toying with his fingers, as you dry him off with a towel. His hair first, then his shoulders down his arms and back.

"Thank you." Luka mumbles. "You're so good to me." "It's what anyone would do," you reply, kneeled before him. "It's the right thing to do."

"Is that it?" Luka hums, peering up at you from beneath his long lashes, taking you in before him. "Is that all we are?"

"..."

What were you?

Friends? Best friends?

Lovers?

You weren't sure. Luka told you he loved you daily. Hourly. Every minute, every second, everything in between. But .. he loved Hyuna, too. That was for certain.

You wordlessly help Luka dress for bed, instructing him to lift his arms. He was alarmingly skinny, starved by Heperu - why? - for Luka to 'perfect'.

You help him dress then help him lay down, carefully running a hand through luka's hair in a comforting attempt.

You couldn't explain why you did what you did. Did you love Luka? Respect him? Care for him?

Luka leaned into your palm like a touch starved puppy, eyes fluttering closed as he drank in the sight of you - his y/n - beside him.

"Thank you," Luka whispered once again. "Honestly. Thank you."

".. you don't have to thank me." you sigh, shoulders sagging. "Honestly. I like taking care of you."

".. do you?" Luka asked, seeking reassurance. "No one.. dared you to? Is Heperu making you do this?"

"What? No. Heperu -- Heperu can go fuck himself. Honestly. I'm doing this for you, not for anyone else."

Luka sighs through his nose, gaze soft as he watched you. You carefully re-cleaned his wounds and branding.

".. I'm serious when I say I love you." Luka hummed, voice quiet as if afraid his confession would break the silence more than it already did. "I really love you so much, y/n."

"I don't know if I can believe you," you hum, gaze focused on the task at hand. "I think you're sweet, Luka, honestly. But.. you love Hyuna."

You glance up to meet his gaze. He was intently watching you.

".. I'm not her, Luka."

Luka said nothing, gaze never leaving you. He watched you closely, then - in a slow motion - lifted his hand to cup your cheek. His thumb drew along the path of your jaw, then swiped over your bottom lip.

"I love you," Luka whispers, voice soft and sleepy. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you."

Maybe he was just strung up on drugs, you told yourself. You'd seen the way he kissed Hyuna's posters, her picture faded with age, the edges torn with time. There was no way he loved you, not when he behaved how he did.

"You should really get some rest," you sighed, quietly dimming the lights to make him more comfortable. "I believe you okay? I believe you. Just get some rest."

"I need you to stay with me," Luka's hands curled limply around yours. "Please. What if - what if Heperu comes back for me?"

Something in your heart broke.

"I'll stay with you," you whisper, shifting to settle down beside him. You make sure he's tucked in before allowing yourself to get comfortable. "Just get some rest. I'm sure you're exhausted."

Luka scooted as close to you as possible, hand finding yours beneath the sheets. "One day," Luka whispers. "when we escape this place, I promise I'm going to marry you."

────୨ৎ────

sorry if this was rushed or ooc .. i was so busy today 💔💔

have a nice day/night !!

-venus

[asficdiary]

"It's so you" || Fernando Alonso

Pairing: Fernando Alonso X Wife!Reader Warning and Tags: Suggestive content, Sexual Themes, mostly fluff with some light smut. AFAB!Reader, descriptions not used. NSFW Summary: Enjoying your evening after Qualifying turns into a soft, slightly smutty end to the night. Work Count: 1K Author's Note: I haven't written smut in like a year so I can fully say, this might not be the best. It's also more Suggestive then actual, but I hope you guys like it. Also why is Wife!Reader lowkey hitting lately? I like it.

After an eventful Canadian Grand Prix Qualifying you and Fernando had retired to your hotel room. You both sat on the balcony, him watching the 24 hours of Le Mans on his phone while you admired the views of the Montreal from above. You pulled the shared blanket closer as a small gust of wind blew past.

It was quiet and you smiled as you listened to the sound of the city below and the commentators speaking from the phone. You closed your eyes, the wear of the day taking toll. You were content. "That's ridiculous!" Fernando shouted startling you. "Sorry, he immediately apologized. "What driver would think that's a good idea? Amateur hour, I swear" He continues.

You chuckle, turning to look at him. “You act like you never did something dumb on the track.” You mumble.

You had pushed a button that set him alive talking and complaining about what had happened. You found your gaze drifting down to his mustache. It moved slightly with each word, the way the hairs brushed over his lip in an almost hypnotic rhythm.

As he talked, you watched how the mustache twitched when he smiled, how it softened his expression when he grew thoughtful, and how it somehow made his teasing feel warmer, more real. "At least I don’t pretend it’s part of some grand strategy,” he said, with a huff. You smiled, your eyes still on his mustache. You didn't understand why but Fernando's spontaneous decision to shave off everything but his mustache had made you fall just a little bit more in love with the man you had married some years ago.

His eyes caught yours, and for a moment world faded away. The city sounds, the distant commentary, even the cool breeze had all disappeared, leaving only the two of you.

“You know,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, “I’ve been wondering… why do you like it so much?”

You furrowed your brows confused at his question.

"The mustache? It's like since I shaved it, you've just, you watch me a lot more" He says almost self-consciously.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question, but your smile stayed. Slowly, you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly over the edge of his mustache. The coarse bristles tickled your skin, sending a small shiver down your spine.

“Because it’s so you,” you said, your voice steady but warm.

"So me?"

"It has a quiet confidence. Not everyone loves it, yet those who do, love it hard. It's sort of sexy in a not trying to be way"

He chuckled, a low, affectionate sound. “I never thought my mustache would be something special to you.”

"That makes two of us" you sighed happily. "It's just a reminder that no matter what changes we go through, I'll love you."

His smile deepened, and before you could second-guess yourself, he pulled you gently into a hug. You melted into his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. The night air was cool, but with him wrapped around you, you weren't bothered. Your hands found their way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the soft hair there. Fernando’s lips brushed your temple as he whispered, “I will too my love. You're my world.”

Your breath hitched, heart pounding in your ears. The space between you shrank until there was nothing left but the heat of his body, the rough tease of his mustache against your skin, and the unmistakable pull of desire. His hand found your neck and tilted your chin up before he leaned forward, his lips meeting yours. The kiss started gentle, explorative, but soon deepened into that all so familiar hunger. His mustache tickled and teased, a perfect counterpoint to the warmth of his mouth.

His hand slipped under the blanket curling around your hip. Your lips had parted slightly inviting him in deeper, closer. It had lit that familiar fuse. With one swift motion, Fernando stood, hands firm on your hips as he pulled you up with him. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was lifting you with ease, his mouth still on yours, deep and dizzying. You laughed into the kiss, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you inside.

He dropped you down on the king-sized bed, softly, but the look in his eye made it clear he wasn't going to be gentle for long. His fingers found the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head with a kind of reverence laced with urgency. He tossed it somewhere behind him, not caring where it landed. His eyes swept over you, hungry and adoring, then his mouth was back on your skin.

His lips ghosted over the column of your neck, pausing to kiss that spot just below your ear. The same one he knew made you gasp. And you did, your fingers threading into his hair, urging him closer. He grinned against your skin, the edge of his mustache scratching lightly, teasing you in all the ways you secretly adored. Then he kissed lower, across your collarbone, down the slope of your chest, every movement slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing you all over again.

“You really love this thing, huh?” he murmured against your skin, voice muffled, low and warm. All you could do was nod, breath shaky. “Good,” he whispered, his hand sliding along your thigh as he kissed his way even lower, “because I’m not shaving it anytime soon.” His teeth grazed your skin before his tongue soothed the spot, slow and possessive, like he was savouring every inch of you.

STACHELONSO - ONE SHOTS - MASTER LIST

[gothushi]

ignorance is bliss

pairing: seb x f!virgin!reader

warning: first time, reader is basically absolutely clueless about sexual stuff, nothin too cray cray

note: publicly shame me. this took too long.

word count: 4.0k

“So, you’ve seriously never done.. anything?” Seb’s clarifying question has your cheeks burning hot, keeping your head ducked against his chest.

“Shut up!”

“I’m just asking! Like- absolutely nothing? Never even to yourself?” Seb’s staying the night, cuddled in bed with you and the title screen of a movie already finished lighting up the room. You two have been talking about life experiences, and somehow landed on the fact that you’ve never even touched yourself.

“...no. So what?” You grumble. You’re definitely embarrassed, trying to shrink down a little more beneath the covers as your hand rests on his chest. “I never had the privacy to do so or-.. like.. I dunno..”

Those urges come and go ever since you moved out a year ago, but it’s just never been a priority, and you’re so embarrassed by not knowing what to do that you just ignore them. The two of you have only gone as far as making out, not wanting to rush things, so it just never came up until now.

“Hey.. don’t feel weird about it, yeah?” Seb murmurs softly, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers to meet his warm gaze. His other arm is wrapped around you, tracing gentle patterns along your back through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“It ain’t some crime. We all start somewhere.” A playful smirk curls on his lips. “Just means I get to show you allll sorts of new things though, huh? It’d be my good deed for the day.” A kiss is planted on your forehead, his tone soft, “Doesn’t that sound nice? Just.. exploring?”

You tilt up, secretly craving a kiss, which he grants you. Blinking slow, you lean closer despite the mild humiliation. “I guess so.. yeah..”

“That’s my girl.” He purrs approvingly, leaning in to capture your lips again in a slower, more sensual kiss. A gentle press of mouths, savoring the contact, before parting your lips to lick over your tongue, shifting to press a bit of his weight into you now. One big hand slides down to rest possessively on your hip, thumbing over the plush there. The other cradles your head, laying you back as he kisses you like a man starved.

Almost immediately, your poor, untouched pussy aches. It’s instant, a throb that you’re used to ignoring. Gasping into his mouth, you sloppily follow his lead, letting him control the pace as your hands press onto his chest. He groans, only breaking away when you’re both panting and a bit flush, a few strands of honey hair fallen from his little ponytail.

“You’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you?” He nuzzles at your jaw, trailing open mouthed kisses along the column of your throat.

“Mh!” You whimper, tilting your head back instinctively as you grab onto his arm. “N-no.. I don’t ah-”

Seb breathes in your sweet perfume, the hint of shampoo behind your ear. His free hand skates down your side, fingers tracing the curve of your hip before down to your ass to grope over the plush there.

“We’ll go as slow as you need,” he promises, “just stop me if you want, okay? No pressure, I swear it.”

Your answering nod almost bumps into his head as he moves down, lapping over your collarbone, then moving his mouth to find your nipple overtop of your shirt. Even through the fabric, it feels extremely sensitive, a new sensation that you couldn’t have conjured up in your brain even if your tried.

Whimpering, you squirm beneath him, remembering to answer him, “Uh huh- promise- I’ll- I’ll stop you if I gotta..”

A pleased grin spreads on his lips, taking your words as an open invitation. Shifting to hover over you more, his fingers find the hem of your shirt, peeling the garment up to expose inch after inch of smooth skin, all the way until it’s above your tits.

“Oh.. look at you..” The appreciation comes out softly, blue eyes gazing over new skin. He leans down, dragging his tongue over a hardening peak with a moan, matching the yelp you let out at the contact. He suckles delicately, sending shocks of pleasure down your spine. “I could get addicted to these.”

His tongue is hot, wet, and you’re shocked at just how sensitive your nipples are. It makes that throb worse, clit aching for a friction you’ve never felt before. Pausing the worship with his tongue, he brings a hand up to massage over your tits, squeezing as if they were stress toys, pinching a little before he deems his needs satisfied, moving down.

His hand twists, fingertips delving beneath the waistband of your pajama bottoms, exploring over your thighs. When he finds the apex of them, he swears under his breath, discovering that your panties are plastered to your aching cunt with slick.

“Christ, Y/N-”

You whine loudly, cheeks flaring with an unbearable heat as he pulls the soaked fabric aside, the pad of his middle fingers finding slick folds. You toss your head back, gasping, “Ah- mmh!”

A groan sounds in his chest as he collects some slick on his finger, giving you the very first touches onto your puffy clit. He rushes to get your pants off, tossing the unneeded garments aside. “Fuck, y’r soaked.. all for me, huh, love?” He plays softly, circling around your clit for a moment before that finger dips down to gently slip into your fluttering hole, just knuckle deep.

Your face is hot, most certainly flushed down your neck as you squirm. His hand moves so.. expertly, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“Oh-! Ff-” You whimper, overwhelmed just from his finger alone. You had never imagined yours, let along his, inside of you. Your eyes roll, your velvety walls clamping down a few times onto the invading digit. “Slow-”

“Shh, I’ve got you..” He coos reassuringly, slowing his movements to a maddeningly gentle pace. He pumps his finger shallowly, letting you adjust to the foreign sensation of being filled. “Thaaat’s it, just relax..”

Leaning down, he swallows the whimper you let out as he kisses you, swallowing down your breathy moans. It only lasts a few moments before he tugs away reluctantly, trailing some kisses onto your jaw, nipping lightly. “How’s this?” He slightly curls his finger, huffing a pleased noise.

“Ho- ahn!” Your legs jerk, hips rutting up. The tip of his finger rubs against something, some spot that makes electricity run up your spine and through your veins, makes something deep inside your clit throb.

“Mh- what-” You whine lowly, feeling your chest rise and fall faster with pants, “Wha’ was that..?”

A smug smile curves Seb’s lips as he hears your awed question, thinking you’re just adorable. “That, gorgeous, was your g-spot. Dead center and begging for attention.”

He emphasizes his point by firmly stroking over that bundle of nerves again, timing it with a swirl of his thumb over your neglected clit. Pleasure sparks through your system, setting your nerves alight.

You yelp, a cry of a moan as your hips rut down, chasing the intense pleasure. “Mh-!” One of your hands finds his shoulder, curling against his shirt as he coos.

“Mmm, I think she likes that, yeah?”

“Ah- nnnhah-”

With a chuckle, he slows his ministrations, gentling his touch to keep the pleasure barely simmering. His free hand slides up to one of your tits, groping and squeezing, rolling the stiffening peak between skilled fingers.

“Think you can handle another finger, gorgeous? Wanna feel this pretty cunt stretch.”

“Mmh- another..?” You whimper quietly, tilting your head so you can look at him through dazed eyes. “Won’t it.. hurt..?”

He abandons your boob to cradle your cheek, blues locking eyes with you. “I’ve got you.. it might sting a bit but I’ll go slow, hm? And if you don’t like it you can stop me, I promise.”

As your hesitant nod, he leans in to give you a slow kiss, tangling his tongue with yours languidly, a dance meant to distract as he pulls his finger out almost all the way so he can join another into the mix.

The stretch burns slightly, but in a way that the pain makes your toes curl, a short squeal into his mouth as he pushes in slow. Your hole is greedy, sucks his digits in with a way of ease provided by your copious slick.

“Good?”

“Mh- hmm!” You nod quickly, eyes fluttering as you move both hands to the sheets beside you. “Feels- nnh- hur’s a little- y’r fingers are big,” you whimper, looking down between you both.

Seb follows your gaze, admiring the erotic sight of his fingers sinking in and out of your sweet, soppy folds. The obscene squelch as he works them deeper fills the room, along with his coo, “She’s takin’ them so good though, love.” The sultry praise rolls off his tongue, finding a careful rhythm, “Greedy pussy jus’ takin’ them in, so soaked.”

His curls his thumb up over your clit again, giving attention to the puffy bud, making your vision blur. Your back bends, gripping hard at the sheets once he curves his fingers up again, before you relax and melt into the pleasure. Your legs squirm around, toes curling. “Seb..”

“I’m right here, gorgeous,” he purrs, letting his free hand pet over your tummy in an affectionate manner. “This filthy little pussy was just made to be fucked, huh? ‘m gonna ruin you for anyone else, have you stuffed full of cum till you’re addicted to it.”

His nasty words make your face burn impossibly brighter, whimpering pathetically as you wriggle around. “Mm-” It’s embarrassing how you feel yourself clench onto his words, your body seemingly liking the dirty talk. “Hah-”

If only you could see the view. His long fingers, disappearing into your poor little hole, absolutely soaked in fresh slick. It drips all along your folds, a trail leaking down over your ass and definitely leaving a spot on the bed.

He groans at another fresh gush, his mouth watering, “That’s it, drench my hand, dirty girl.”

You yelp and a hand jerks down to grab onto his wrist when he starts to torment that spot again, fingers rubbing just right as his thumb expertly circles over your clit. There’s a slight tightness, an odd sensation, making your brows furrow.

“Fuh- feels funny,” you whimper, hips trembling, “why-”

“‘s okay, gorgeous, just means y’r gonna cum. It’s gonna feel real good, I’m right here,” the soft assurances are so sweet, makes your chest and head feel fuzzy. You tug on his arm, almost a little distressed as your squirming around intensifies.

“Nh- Seb, Seb-” You whine, breathing picking up slightly as your eyes flutter. The confusion is so cute, makes him realize just how hard he is as his cock throbs in his boxers, aching for some attention as he slightly increasing the pace of his fingers.

“Don’t fight it, let it happen,” he urges, flattening his hand onto your navel with a bit of pressure.

You tense up, and then quiver. Your first orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, or maybe a freight train as you writhe against the bed with a whiny sob. It starts at your head and then curls down through your gut as your pussy flutters, hips rocking instinctively as it shakes all the way down to your toes.

The peak fades, leaving you panting as if you just ran a marathon, eyes teary and dripping as your vision clears up.

Watching you unravel is absolutely intoxicating for Seb, little coos falling from his lips as he slowly works you through your orgasm. He gentles his pace, slowing down once you start to twitch with sensitivity, pulling his fingers out. The emptiness leaves an odd ache, tiredness settling over you. A glob of cum leaks from your hole, making you whine and press your legs together sheepishly.

His blues are fond as he admires you, the delicate flush on your skin, the dazed look, he thinks he could devour you whole.

“Well, aren’t you just the prettiest thing after a good orgasm?” Seb smiles, lifting his soaked fingers to his mouth for a taste, groaning. “And delicious.”

A whimper falls from your lips at the sight, a few stray tears dripping down to your hairline, heart rate slowly coming back down. You feel like jelly, muscles weak and wobbly. “That’s-” your cheeks darken as he sucks your cum from his digits.

“Relax,” he lowers his mostly clean hand to swipe through the slickness on your inner thigh, trailing along the path. “Just enjoying the fruits of my labor. You made quite the mess, huh?” His thumb dips, parting your soppy folds to allow his fingers to collect more. Instead of lapping it up himself, he leans over you with his hand near your face.

You nearly go cross eyed looking at his head, flushed as the sight of creamy slick covering his finger. “Isn’t that-.. nasty?”

A huff of laughter escapes Seb at your distaste for the idea, grinning big. He presses his middle finger to your lip, encouraging you to part them and taste.

“Nasty?” He inquires, “this is the most delectable thing you could ever put in your mouth.”

His insistence is definitely fueled by his own perversions, and you.. you give in so easily.

Your lips part before your tongue laps out, allowing his finger into your mouth for you to suckle. The slick and cum is salty, slightly tangy, and it makes your face scrunch up with a little muffled noise.

“There.. isn’t that good?” He grins smugly, the exploratory licks on his finger making him wish it were his cock. One day. “Good girl, all of it.” His hand moves, finger delving deeper into your mouth as he stares intently.

You whimper lowly, something in the naughty act making your spent pussy throb, legs squirming around with your thighs pressed tightly together. You suckle, licking the skin clean before swallowing.

“Fuck.. look at you, so cute.” With deliberate slowness, he withdraws his finger, letting it trail across your lower lip before tucking it into his mouth afterwards. His tongue sweeps over the tip, tasting the remnants of your cum along with your own spit with a low groan of approval.

The tent in his pajama pants catches your eye as you squirm, his body knelt over you. Obviously, you know what a dick is, you aren’t that stupid, so you stammer out.

“Can I-..” Embarrassment swells in your throat. “Can I watch you..?”

Seb can’t believe his luck. Not only did he give you your very first orgasm, but now you’re asking to watch him jerk off? Maybe you’re naturally perverted, but his makes his heart ache with fondness at how shy you still are.

“Oh, I think that can be arranged,” he croons, reaching down to toy with his cock. One hand eagerly pushes his waistbands down before he flops against the headboard, shedding them fully as he speaks.

“In fact, why don’t you come sit on my lap while I take care of this, hm?” He pats a hand on his thigh, signaling for you to come sit on him.

You turn over on wobbly legs, crawling closer as your shirt falls back down to your waist. Heat curls in your belly as you straddle his lap, sat back mostly onto his slightly spread thighs.

Despite being embarrassed, you can’t stop staring at his naked lap, at his aching cock as he curls his fingers around the shaft, near the base where it disappears into a mess of honeyed curls. “That’s.. supposed t’fit inside me..?��

He giggles, his other hand mindlessly finding your thigh in a contrastingly gentle touch. “Uh huh, once we get there, we’ll go slow, of course.” He drags his hand up, swiping the pad of his thumb over to collect his pre with a huff. You watch as he slowly jerks himself off, the way his fingers squeeze, his ring glinting in the low light of your room.

Innocently so, your mind races with thoughts, curiosity and confusion. He’s.. big, right? Long, no way he’d fit up inside me.. wouldn’t that really hurt?

Seb on the other hand is much more occupied with nastier thoughts, choosing to voice them with a huffy moan, his other hand squeezing on your thigh. “God, I bet stretchin’ you would feel incredible.. so tight ‘nd warm,” he lets out a breathless groan, instead shifting his hand to your hip. “Probably eat you out too, take all the time in th’ world t’make sure you’re ready-“ His strokes quicken, a bit more desperate for pleasure. Pre dribbles over his flared head, coating the palm of his fist as he twists his hand just the way he likes.

The grunted noise he gives has you squirming, just watching him being enough to realize your poor pussy is throbbing again.

“Seb..” You whimper, hands curling lightly against the hem of your shirt as if to shyly pull it down, hips rutting forward instinctively into nothing.

“Fuck, lookit you.. already worked up again?” He thinks it’s cute, you just came and you’re already ready again? He slows his hand before the other curls onto your back, allowing him to haul you forward with ease.

You yelp, hips grinding down at the contact. It’s an odd sensation, your bare cunt pressed against the underside of his shaft. He’s hot, firm, rock hard and if you move forward, he fits just right. A pathetic whimper falls from your lips, burying your face into his neck.

“Oh-!”

A long moan spills from his lips, urging your hips forward. The slick evidence of your arousal coats his shaft, an intoxicating slide that has both of you whining. His arms curl around you, hands sliding up under your shirt to rub over your back as he praises.

“There- just like that, you- move like that, gorgeous.” His encouragement is a low, filthy rasp as his wandering hands settle for your ass now, groping hard, the underside of his tip catching on your clit with the upwards grind.

Your own arms curl around his shoulders, whining noisily, not even recognizing your own voice as you babble. “Se- ah! Feels- feels good,” the drag of your puffy clit, the rivulets of arousal leaking onto his shaft, his cock parting through your folds deliciously, it’s maddening.

Seb lavishes kisses onto your neck, suckling lightly as to not leave a mark, but enough to let the sensation course down your spine. He’s drunk on the power of guiding you, of allowing you all these new feelings. His fingertips press into your ass harder, urging you into a faster rhythm.

“Such a good girl, so responsive,” he pants, nipping over your jaw before nosing at your cheek, “Bet you can’t wait to feel my cock in your greedy little hole, stuffing you full-”

You whine, “Shut- shut up!” The consistent rub on your clit is other wordly, vision swimming with stars as that odd coil tightens up into your tummy again.

He chuckles, the vibrations felt against your chest through your shirts. He loves this, thinks he might be addicted to grinding with you like a pair of horny teenagers.

“What? It embarrass you to hear the truth?” He taunts playfully, “Doesn’t change the fact that you desperate little pussy is practically sobbing for my cock.” As if to emphasize, he swipes a hand down, just enough to slicken his fingers up, before bringing them to stuff into your mouth.

You garble when his fingers are forced into your mouth, the feeling enough to make you sit up a little straighter, in turn pushing onto his cock more.

God, the sight of you.

Face flushed, hair mused up. Your tongue flattens onto his fingers, body only able to focus on grinding or sucking, one at a time. Your eyes are a bit teary, wet, brows furrowing together. The rhythm of your hips falters, a whimper muffled onto his fingers at the taste of yourself.

Seb is enraptured, spreading his fingers over your tongue, making sure not to push too far back.

“Y’r so pretty like this. Always pretty- but, extra.” He breathes, “wanna ruin this body, be the only one who knows how you taste- how you sound. Bet when I first fuck you I’ll reach all the way to your tummy, hm?”

“Mhm!” You whimper, his affections and crude words sparking something in your gut, a pleasurable swirl that makes your thighs shake.

You’re really going to have to be taught how to understand your body better, because your second orgasm crashes into you without even realizing until it’s too late.

You squeal around his fingers, trembling atop his lap with sloppy rhythm, pushing down onto his cock, soaked folds flush to his shaft as you cum. His groan mingles with your whines, seeing you succumb to ecstasy again is enough for his hips to rut up.

“Oh, fuck-” His fingers hook down, knocking into your cheek as his eyes roll. “I’m gonna-” Thick ropes of pearly cum splatter onto his tummy, on the hem of his rumpled shirt, stomach taut with the effort. Wave after wave, until you’re both panting, slumped against the headboard together. He wipes his wet fingers onto your shirt so that way he can pet over your head, lightly scratching on your scalp.

Fuck. He can’t remember the last time he came that hard. The uncomfortably wet glide of his softening cock through your folds draws another groan from him, a jerking whine from you, whimpering his name.

A surge of tenderness washes over him as he cradles your cheek, lifting your head to pepper a few kisses onto your cheeks, nose, lips. Your eyes are lidded, brimmed with tears, leaning into his palm. Giggling breathlessly, “Mmh.. wa-” you still have to catch your breath, panting, “that felt.. good..”

He leans in to capture your slack mouth in a gentle kiss, humming in agreement. “You okay, gorgeous?”

“Mh..” You sigh out, eyes fluttering as his hand scritches on your jaw, petting over your neck. “My legs feel funny.. like jelly.. ‘nd ‘m sticky..” The complaint makes his heart swell, post-orgasmic bliss fading away to overheated skin and slick sex.

“Oh, I know,” Seb coos, sitting up some. After a moment of shifting, he cradles you in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom and setting you down on the toilet. “Go to the bathroom,” the soft order makes your brows furrow, staring at him as he gets into the small closet for some towels, preparing to take a shower together.

“Aren’t-.. you gonna step out..?”

He turns, blues amused as he looks down at you. “I just fingered you. You’re shy about pissing in front of me? You have to go after sex.”

“Well, we didn’t-”

“Doesn’t matter, even if i didn’t fuck you.”

“Oh.”

Guess pee shy doesn’t matter when you just came on someone, right? You go as he gathers some towels to shower together, turning on the faucet to let the water heat up.

Once done, you both step in. Seb discovers quickly that you’re very clingy after an orgasm, wanting to hug on him rather than actually clean up.

“C’mon, gorgeous, let go and let me clean you up. You’re all wobbly.” He laughs, lathering soap into the washcloth. It smells of vanilla and honey.

You whine, “I don’ wanna.. y’r warm..”

“Cold? Here-“ He adjusts you slightly, “under the water. There, is that better?”

Hot water runs down your back, dampening your hair and warming your skin. A pleased hum leaves you, shifting slightly to allow him to start washing up your arms.

“Silly girl,” he mumbles, smiling. It doesn’t take long to wash up, he isn’t completely thorough, just doing a quick job to get the tacky sweat and cum off of your bodies before helping you step out.

Towel dried and back in your room, he dresses you both, huffing at your tired, heavy limbs.

“Alright, here,” he tucks you under the covers, handing you the remote to the TV, along with your teddy bear. “He’ll keep you company. I’ll go get us a snack. You want some soda?”

“Mh,” you pout for a moment, staring up at him. The pleasure has left you dazed, sleepy, definitely a little hungry, and oh so cared for. “Can I have a kiss?”

Oh, his heart just melts.

“‘course you can, gorgeous.” He leans in, planting a kiss to your lips, a careful one.

“Don’t fall asleep, you still need to eat something.”

“Aawwwhhhh.”

[heavenstrvck]

when margot laughs about it, kissing her and talking about the way she tastes like this is just another normal night, like they always do this, something swirls in moira's gut and she's not sure if it's unease or want. this was supposed to be just fun - teasing each other until one of them went to bed, frustrated and horny - not feel this real. dark eyes meet hers and she sees something in it that she's glad to interrupt, because thinking about what her best friend was about to say might kill her. instead, she gently chuckles along, hand going through her curls to try and lessen the just fucked look she's probably sporting. just as she's headed for the mini fridge, margot does talk and she smirks. "that would make a great line in a song, mar. if you want to try and get even more sapphic fans, you know what to do." the teasing is gentle, nothing she's never said before. being naked with her best friend as she grabs them water bottles does feel strange enough, and her knuckles tighten around the door as margot's question echoes between them. takes a deep breath, puts her best casual facade on, eyebrow raised as she hands a bottle to the other. "i mean unless you jump me for breakfast, then nah. we're going to be okay, mar. like we said - no one needs to know about this." it's spoken too quickly, but she knows that if she pauses, she might start thinking. "it's just a one-time thing. a way for us to let out some steam and cut the tension. nothing more." each word feels wrong. she knows they've both already talked about next time, about maybe, about being each other's. but for her peace of mind, she'll put that on the behalf of their orgasm daze. tilting her head as she watches margot, she smirks. "if you want to do it one more time before bed, just to have a good night's sleep, you can just ask, mar." allows her eyes to linger over here friend's body, memories of how she feels making her rub her thighs involuntarily. "i won't tell." it's softer, honest - like a promise between them.

she'll do better next time. and no, she isn't going to waste her time trying to talk herself out of it. she'll just let it happen on its own, play the patient game as best she can. and in the meantime, she'll cling to thoughts or moira spread out for her, coming undone right on her mouth. will press a pillow between her legs or finger herself the way moira had tonight. anything to draw it out, see how long they can last without doing this again. laughs, raising herself until she's hovering over moira, hand pressing into the armrest to keep herself upright. kisses her best friend back, eager for moira to taste herself. pulls away, a breathy laugh falling past her lips. " eight ? i'd call that a win. " leans in, pressing another chaste kiss to moira's lips. " i loved it. you taste so fucking good, moi. " gaze flickers up to meet her best friend's gaze. she's about to say more when moira speaks up instead, and changes the subject. and margot doesn't mind it. probably best not to get too descriptive. margot isn't sure if they're going to keep going after this, but they need water. so margot pushes herself down towards the opposite end of the couch, offering a small nod. " i mean, i just drowned in your pussy but i could use something to drink. " smirks, unable to hold her laugh in. falls quiet, watching moira as she moves to grab them some beverages. " hey, so we're not going to be weird, right ? " brows furrow, a hint of worry on her features. rational thoughts are beginning to make their way back into her head and she's worried. " tomorrow, i mean. "

[sodapopkiss6]

Heyy!!! I don't know if you take requests but I have been reading your posts for a while and gods i absolutely adore them🙏🏼🙏🏼 you feed me so well with all your sylus content <33

I was wondering if you could write a silly idea that cross my mind– where Sylus shaves/waxes his happy trail because of a little misunderstanding, but WE LOVE THAT HAPPY TRAIL!!! And now we're all sad because he just shaved the most precious thing in the world😭

Ty for the support! 💕 Tbh I haven't thought about taking requests, I kinda js post whatever comes to mind and hope it makes sense✌️😭

But this idea is super cute and my mind is cooking something up

It started with a small, mindless comment.

"Hm, I should shave again" you say mostly to yourself while applying cream on your legs.

Sylus's arms wrap around you, hugging you from behind.

"You look beautiful either way"

"Thank you" you chuckle "but its not that, I like how my skin feels when it's shaved, and also how it looks on me. I don't know, I guess I just like smooth skin or something" you laugh not thinking much of it.

"Smooth" Sylus hums, moving around to kneel in front of you "so you like shaved skin?"

"Yeah, it's a workout but also relaxing in its own way. Its part of my self care routine"

"I see..." his hand replace yours, helping you apply more cream "if you need any assistance I'm more than happy to help"

You laugh and kiss his forehead "I bet you are. Expecting a reward afterwards?"

"My reward is seeing you happy" his hand wraps around your calf, bringing it up to kiss down your leg.

"That's so sappy" you hold back a laugh.

"I'm in love and proud of it" he grins before pouncing on you. You giggle feeling him playfully bite you.

"I-it tickles!" You squirm.

"You made me like this" he keeps playfully biting, your laughs encouraging him.

"Sylus I c-can't-" you giggle "breathe!"

He grins against your neck, placing an obnoxiously loud and long kiss making you flush.

"Sylus!" You gasp looking down at his mischievous eyes.

"Yes?" He says, feigning innocence "do you want another kiss?"

"Not if it's like that!" You sputter, wiggling your way out from under his hold "I'm going to bed!" You announce while going under the covers.

"Already?" Sylus teases "but it's so early"

"For you" you huff "goodnight"

He moves close, laying next to you "goodnight kitten, sweet dreams" his hand gently caresses your head.

"Goodnight Sy, love you" you take his hand and press a soft kiss on his palm.

"Love you too" is the lasting you hear, his gentle hand lulling you to sleep.

He waits until your in deep sleep before getting up and starting his day(night), taking care of his usual business. The night goes on until it is time for him to sleep. But before that, he goes to the bathroom to clean up.

He takes his time cleaning up the evidence of his earlier meetings. In the process of washing his body though, his eyes glance down. He stares at the trail of hair under his belly button that runs downward. His mind reeling back to your earlier conversation.

His mind debates, you've never mentioned not liking it, but you also said you liked smooth skin. He's also catched you looking at it, whenever he would comment on it, you'd blush and look away babbling excuses. Maybe you feel bad telling him directly so you mentioned it causally earlier, hoping he'd get the hint.

Reaching a decision he smirks and reaches for the razor planning to suprise you. He can't wait to see your eyes light up and watch you fail to hide your delighted glances.

When he comes out of the shower he notices you're no longer in bed. Perfect. He puts on some pants making sure they are low.

Confidently, he makes his way to the kitchen knowing you'd be having breakfast.

"Good morning" you say while your eyes stay transfixed on the video playing on your phone.

"Morning" he says, walking around the kitchen island. He pours himself a glass of wine and sips, his eyes set on you.

Feeling his gaze you look up curiously. It was time for him to set his plan in motion.

"Something wrong sweetie?" He smirks, your eyes go down to his lips and throat. Seeing the wine dribble a little from the side of the cup. Your eyes follow it as it drips down to his chest, the droplets painting his pale skin.

"N-no" your eyes snap back up.

He looks down at himself "oh dear, looks like I've made a mess"

It sounds so fake and cliché you try to hold back a laugh.

"It seems so" you play along giggling.

"Mind helping me kitten?" His eyes look back to you.

You practically skip your way over to him "stay still, I'll get you all cleaned up"

"You're oddly enthusiastic" Sylus says amused by your barely hidden excitement.

"Just happy to help my poor husband" you say as your tounge darts out to 'clean' him.

"I'm a lucky man" his breath hitches at your touch.

You hum and get to work, occasionally stirring off course to tease his sensitive chest. Little by little you go down, enjoying his ragged breath. He eagerly awaits for your reaction when you start to reach his lower abdomen. But then you suddenly pull back.

You look up at him horrified "It's gone!"

He blinks and looks at you confused, he wasn't expecting this reaction.

"This is the worst thing that has ever happened in history!" You mourn.

"I...I can think of a couple things that are worst-"

"-You don't get it!" you whine "I love your happy trail" you faintly trace the area where it used to be with your finger, making him shiver.

Theres a brief pause before Sylus speaks up.

"It doesn't look good?"

Your hand stills, starting to feel guilty and self conscious of your outburst.

"I'm sorry, it's your body Sy, if shaving it off makes you happy then I'm all for it" you look up giving him an apologetic smile.

"Me? Sweetie I did it because I thought it would make you happy" he reaches down to cup your cheeks "I'll do anything to keep you happy around me"

"Sy you don't have to do that, I'm here with you because I love you" You furrow your eyebrows and stand up "also why did you think I wanted you to shave? I never said anything about it"

"Last night you mentioned that you like smooth skin, that it looks and feels better"

You look at him confused for a second before realization sets in.

"Sylus..." you cup his cheeks, squishing them "you adorable silly dragon I wasn't talking about you"

"You weren't indirectly trying to tell me something?"

"No!" You hug him while laughing "I was talking about myself, I like shaving for me, my personal preference. Everyone is different, it's a choice for you to make for your body"

You see the tips of Sylus’s ears turn red from embarrassment. A rare sight.

"I see I've misunderstood"

"Yes" you peck his cheek and move back to look at him "Sylus, seeing you happy is what makes me happy, seeing you happy with the way your body looks makes me happy, okay? You don't have to change a single thing for me"

You lean in to kiss him, chaste, but filled with emotion.

"I love you Sy, and I'll always support your decisions regarding your body"

Sylus's pensive face breaks into a mischievous smile "just the ones about my body?"

You hum "someone has to stop you from blowing up stuff"

He chuckles and hugs you tightly, hiding his face on your shoulder "thank you"

You pat his back relaxing in his embrace.

However the sentimental ambience was ruined by his next words.

"You know that was quite the reaction, now I'm curious as to why you love that trail of hair so much"

You blush and panick "no reason" you lie.

"Really?" He whispers into your ear before gently nibbling it.

You gasp his name and turn around to pull away but he's quicker. Strong arms keep your back pressed against his chest.

"Kitten? Where are you going, we haven't finished talking" he chuckles, making you shiver.

"Yes we did, mhm yes conversation done"

"Are you really not going to tell me?"

"Nope!" you shake your head furiously.

"Not even if I do...this?" His hands moves up and you hold your breath. The trill and anticipation making your heart beat faster.

Suddenly he tickles your weakest spot while his mouth goes down to your neck to playfully bite. The combination leaves you breathless and weak, body feeling like jelly.

Between laughs you yell out defiantly "do your worse!"

He playfully growls, a habit of his when his mind leans more into his dragon traits.

"What a brave kitten" his mouth goes up to bite your cheek "unfortunately for you I'm very knowledgeable in the ways to persuade a stubborn kitten"

"Really?" You whisper into his ear and bite, mischievously pulling at it.

He chuckles, but it's different this time, low and rumbling. A dragon ready to play with its prey.

Wordlessly he picks you up over his shoulder making you yelp in suprise, and starts to walk out of the kitchen.

"Sy" you giggle "where are we going?"

"Guess" is all he says before biting your exposed thigh.

You wonder how many times it'll take for him to get the information out of you. But of course you aren't planning on giving up your secret so easily. No, he'll have to throughly convince you.

I hope you like this! It was fun to write, I'm in love with domestic MC x Sylus. Those simple moments in the day(and night), I just love thinking about them.

Ty again for the support! 💕

[melodyplucked]

    ❝    we can still run down the street for clothes like we talked about last night if you feel like it, too, but- you look super cute in my t-shirts, so.    ❞    they'll have time between this and coffee though. ricky sighs at her words, he hates that they got split like this. but... it's good they're together again. that things can be good again. she means absolutely everything to him...    ❝    i know you mentioned that awful date with that awful guy... we don't need any more of that in your life...    ❞    he shakes his head with a grimace, before leaning in to press his lips to hers one more time, just gentle and quick.    ❝    i'm gonna be happy to meet them too. you're really important to me. you're my future, neens. and my history. so... this is special.    ❞    he nods, smiling as he lets go of her, if a bit reluctantly.    ❝    okay- no rush. get last night off you.    ❞    they'll have a nice day ahead of them.

❝     very     true.     plus,     you     know     i     prefer     your     t-shirts.     ❞     she     says,     shrugging     her     shoulders.     his     shirts,     always     so     oversized     on     her     smaller     frame,     had     always     felt     like     a     better     fit     than     anything     she     owned.     ❝     definitely     not.     after     the     last     guy     i     dated,     i     think     they're     going     to     be     really     happy     to     meet     the     boy     i've     talked     so     much     about.     especially     when     they     realize     just     who     you     are     to     me.     ❞     she     was     so     excited     for     her     friends     to     get     to     meet     ricky.     they'd     heard     enough     about     him     over     the     last     few     months     and     she     couldn't     wait     for     everyone     to     get     to     know     each     other.     she     can't     help     but     wrap     her     arms     around     him     as     he     kisses     her;     several     kisses     over     the     span     of     a     few     seconds,     just     like     it     used     to     be.     ❝          love     you.     i'll     be     out     in     just     a     few,     alright?     ❞

[kid-sid]

artfights for @kidciitrix @embryu @eirastrid @slirth @cranberrysoap

@catphantoms @nootsuit