#and that those moments are like a reminder to stay aware of the fact that maybe this is not going to end as a big happy family ...

[calitsnow]

It’s always funny to me when I have the same reactions as Dante and I never feel closer to them than when I am just playing with my vision of this weird reunion of outcasts as a big and loveable found family, only to see that vision crumbled down and challenged every canto by a sinner or Vergilius who exclaims loud and clear and often vehemently that it will never be anything more than a employer / employee relationship.

At those moments I react exactly like Dante when they are like: « Maybe I am the only one who thought we were sharing something together ? Maybe all the sinners are only here for their own goals ? Maybe they would never want to make an effort to create a meaninful relationship between each others ? Was I a fool to believe that this was the start of a friendship … that we could have developpe a bond more or less deep, a feeling of belonging … that we could have been a family. »

First there is the pain of having your hopes shattered but then that doesn’t stop us to continue hoping for it to happen.

We are just two big delulu people

[anantaru]

cw. ⪩⪨ fem! reader, rich boy au, rich boy alhaitham, semi public sex (in a library), he's insufferable, possessive (he's used to getting what he wants n wants you all for himself), a little yandere i feel like

rich boy alhaitham has never experienced the idea of not getting something he so terribly longed for— in fact, the very moment he laid his eyes on you, desire flooding his veins and invading his taste, it's with immediate certainty that he will make you his no matter what.

because you see, it has almost always been that way for him, the idea of something being too expensive has never really crossed his mind in his adult years— although it was safe to say that in order to make you stay forever, he must add more than the couple gifts he had already planned to send your way, such wasn't enough, despite the fact that they certainly would make things a whole lot more easier for him.

because who on earth doesn't like a costly, with diamonds paired piece of earrings from fontaine? hand crafted of immeasurable worth. or would you rather choose the extravagant silken garments from the nation of electro? oh, you forgot already silly? you're of course, getting both, it's on alhaitham after all.

he doesn't understand that this emotion growing in his heart might become quite dangerous in the future, although again, the man was of smart kind, highly aware of the power he held not only with his fortune alone, but his cleverness as well— and there would never be a time in his life where he couldn't utilize the one or the other, or use them all together to get the result he planned to achieve.

dear, dearer, dearest you, alhaitham ponders, as long as the sun was alive, as long as desire merges with his addiction,

"i will pursue you".

alhaitham knows that from the bottom of his heart, he will make you his, and not just have you for a short period of time during those special days— where two people simply let go of steam, soft fingertips glissading over the edges of sweaty skin as you're wrapped around his fingers, the slight swell of your lips, the strong blush on his cheeks, both vividly showing that the two of you cannot keep your hands away from each other.

as expected, you find yourself hidden behind a bookshelf in the house of daena, and alhaitham kisses you like he has been imagining it for decades on end, soft lips dancing over yours as he forces his tongue past your mouth, his hands greedily skimming through your trembling figure— soul catching soul, like each touch of him felt like it was searing through you, burning your clothes.

there, in those precise rolls of fingers repeatedly crossing your sensitive nipples, alhaitham makes himself acquainted with your trace as he graciously feels around the curves of your body and how well you reacted to his touch, kiss and tremble— an immediate reminder for him that you like it when he touched you like that, lapped his tongue over yours like that or pressed his muscular thigh against your wet cunt like that.

alhaitham was cruel in a way— one might even go as far as to assume that pairing an excessively clever man with a boundless amount of money harbors a much darker meaning in on itself.

but right now, he was slightly cruel to you as well when it becomes more and more painful and he knows, he always does, especially when he notices how you're having trouble breathing from his antics, quite wobbly on your footing as you look up at him through soft eyes, lips parted when each kiss of him made your heart clench, unknowing of everything, only waiting until he finally fucks you like you wanted to.

what you do not realize is that rich boy alhaitham was already weak for you, and he could barely wait himself, his mind fighting with his rationality, being overthrown by nothing more than the addictive scent of your perfume blossoming across the skin on your neck.

he flips you around instantly, your figure now squished between his chest and the bookshelf before he flicks your skirt up with ease, almost territorial like he's the only one allowed to do that from now on, frenziedly touching and loving your body like he needed you to breathe and stay alive, like it's only you who can make him be this way.

"ahh— fuck," he gasps into the back of your neck, his hot breath planing across the skin and manifesting a strong shiver down your spine, "i love those earrings on you," as he trails off, your hips twisting and twitching when he finds them with his hands, repeatedly pistoling his thick shaft into you until the lewd, squelching noises of skin on skin were overturning your little whimpers, smack smack smack, it's only getting louder— so alhaitham uses one hand to quickly close one palm around your noisy mouth.

he thinks it's adorable how you forgot that you were still in a library, yet it only showed him that he was doing everything right, only a little more until you're all his.

the scribe has got you covered, okay? alhaitham needs you to realize that from now on, you have nothing to worry about anymore, so please get that into your pretty head! you're far too delicate and pretty to trouble yourself with something such as stress, not anymore— because wether it was intimacy you craved, love you sought after or money you needed,

alhaitham has got you.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal AU

Chapter 2:

Chapter 1. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx

----

“No!”

Screaming, you rushed up. Breathe!

In, out. In, out. Blood raced.

In.

Out.

With a shuddering breath, you sighed. You became aware of a presence at your pillow. Glancing, you locked eyes with your second robin. Well, you called this bird a robin, but it was barely that.

The bird was covered in black feathers, with the exception being bright red that covered its head and a small part of its chest. It hardly resembled a robin anymore. This one, you referred to as Hood.

Hood gave a little chirp, hopping over to your lap. It settled down, providing a reassuring weight. You started petting it, just a little. Hood could always tell when you had this particular nightmare.

You didn't have nightmares often, but if you did, it was always the same one. It started simple, an unlucky mistake leading to the meeting of a soulmate (which was nightmarish enough). Your brain never really elaborated on the meeting, as if it couldn’t quite comprehend what it could be like. Instead, the horror appeared when you met your own soul animal.

It was impossible to meet your own soul form until you've met a soulmate, as the animal orbited those you were bound to. Many a novel has been dedicated to those discovering that their soul has taken some unfortunate form, and their journey of self-acceptance. One particular novel you were fond of had the protagonist learning to accept that their form was a snail.

But… in the nightmare, your form wasn't that of a snail. It wasn't the form of a snake, a grasshopper or even a turtle.

It was a robin.

A little, fluttering robin. In green. In yellow.

In red.

You always awoke after that.

You continued petting Hood. Pet pat, pet pat. It always let you have little leniencies like this, after your nightmares. You appreciated it.

For you, a robin was the worst form your soul could possibly have. You had tried previously to logic yourself out of this fear. What was so bad about being a robin? You had four of them already; they weren’t so bad, albeit annoying. You just couldn’t… stand the idea.

It reminded you of the blood on your hands. The sight never really left you. The bodies of soul animals didn't remain, they disappeared just as the soul did after death. The fact both comforted and reassured you. You didn't have to bury the body, but you also didn't have anything to mourn.

You had made a small grave anyway.

You cried. Just a little. Hood gave a small tweet of distress, raising itself up to you. You took the offer, picking the bird up and cuddling its face. Just a little.

You felt sick.

You two stayed like that a while, two souls sheltering from the world. You wondered if your soulmates ever did a similar thing with your soul form. It was times like this that had you considering reaching out. You brushed aside some feathers on Hood’s chest, revealing a faint, scarred Y.

Maybe not.

A scutter of wings could be heard from your kitchen. You groaned, lifting Hood off your lap as you slowly got up. Who was it this time?

Bleary eyes blinked, you slowly made your way over. You were joined by Hood, as it made itself a steady weight on your shoulder. Hood was always a little too heavy for you to carry about easily, but you decided to be kind by not complaining this time.

Staring into your kitchen, it took you a moment to understand the sight in front of you.

A robin darting about, as a bat watched from the top of your fridge. It was a typical image for your home, but why..

Why was the robin… purple? And, was that bat a little smaller than usual?

…

Oh, no.

Strength left your legs as you crumbled to the floor, just staring at the two with an empty gaze. Hood squawked in alarm, fluttering off your shoulder.

You had two new soulmates.

Goddamnit.

~ ~ ~ ~

Somehow, Spoiler and Orphan (you later figured out their identities, none of your soulbonds were subtle) weren't your first surprise bond. No, that dubious honor belonged to the fourth robin.

You had been a little exhausted after a long day being tormented by Wing’s affections. Occasionally Wing has rather clingy days, and it becomes impossible to leave the house. It had only gotten worse after the second robin’s demise. You endured.

As a result, you were sleeping in. That is, until the sounds of high pitched peeping noises stirred you from your slumber. You slowly awoke, your eyes meeting bright green.

“Aaagh!” You shrieked, jumping back and falling off the bed. “Owww.” Groaning, you slowly sat up, taking in the situation.

There was a baby bird. On your bed. “What…?” You muttered. The bird didn't have many feathers, but the ones that it did have were a mixture of black and green. It was this fact, alongside the bird being a robin, that made you register exactly what was going on.

“Ohh my god.” Your head was in your hands. That was how done you were. Most people stopped getting soulmates at one. Sometimes there were bonds of two, maybe even three. Having four bonds was already rather extraordinary (which is why you pretended all your robins were the same one), but now there was a fifth.

Well, at least the baby bird was cute. You reached out, extending a finger to pet it, when it snapped at you. With its beak and everything.

Betrayal.

Since when were baby birds aggressive? All your other soulmates were older than you so you never got to care for any of them. Now you finally have one, and it snaps at you.

Turning away from the bird, you mean to sulk a little, but get interrupted by the Bat fluttering right in front of you. You blink, and the next second it's perched right by your new soulmate. You stare, eagerly anticipating a conflict.

The baby bird stares at the Bat for a second, before making an adoring noise and resting under its wing.

What.

Suffice to say, your initial relationship with Robin didn't start off perfectly. It did seem to warm to you within a few weeks though, so you didn't feel too bad about it.

In all honesty, you were more concerned about what the existence of a fourth robin would mean for the third. Would it be a smooth transition? A simple bestowing of the title like it had been for the first and second robin?

Or would it be tainted with blood, another robin bleeding out in your palms. You shuddered.

You didn't want to find out.

~ ~ ~ ~

Adjusting to two new additions to your bond was a little strange. All your bonds so far had been birth ones, formed at the start of your existence (with the exception of Robin, which formed when Robin started his life). Spoiler and Orphan were delayed bonds, also known as fated bonds. They started later in life, generally after significant events, but they can just randomly pop up too.

Were you going to get a new bond every time Batman trained a new vigilante? Was being a vigilante a requirement? That has some odd implications for you, actually.

You didn't really want to become a ‘hero’.

Enough of that. A few days had passed since the emergence of your two new bonds, and you suspected that the rest of your soulmates had found the change to be about as surprising as you did.

You could tell, because for the first time in a literal month, you were alone! No bat watching from a corner, no bird fluttering around you. Just you, and complete, lovely, isolation.

Honestly, it was so quiet you were a little unnerved. You had gotten so used to the constant chirping and fluttering of wings.

As a result, you've left the house.

You enjoy a nice walk, taking in the sights you usually rush over. Settling into a coffee shop, you treat yourself to a cookie. It was fun just to enjoy the atmosphere for once, without the paranoia of having what occasionally felt like a literal flock of birds following you around.

You've almost finished your drink when a shadow falls over you. A lean man stands before you, clutching a coffee to himself as if it contained the secrets to life. You blink.

“Sorry, I was wondering if I could sit with you?” He gestured to the cafe, and you noticed all the other seats were occupied. Huh, you were so busy being infatuated with your current freedom that you didn't even notice.

“Ah, yeah that's fine.” You replied, giving a small smile.

He smiled back, settling down and pulling out a laptop. Your time passes in simple peace, him on his laptop, and you on your phone. A scuttering noise drew you away from your scrolling though, and you looked up to see a familiar scene.

A blue bird had landed on the man’s coffee, shaking it as if it was trying to knock it over. The laptop man was fighting back though, doing his best to preserve it.

“Ah.” You muttered, staring. They both turned to look at you, exactly at the same time. It was a little creepy.

“Apologies for disturbing you.” Coffee man said. The blue bird jumped off the coffee, turning to you.

“It's alright. Is that your soul animal?” You replied, watching the bird hop closer.

“Ah yeah, he is. My family can be annoying about my caffeine intake sometimes.” There was a pause. “He seems quite interested in you, though.” There was a question in that statement, and you had the inkling that this was leading up to something you wouldn't like.

“What type of animal is it? I can tell it's some type of bird but..” The bird had reached you now, hopping onto your raised hand.

“It's a raven…” The man continued on, starting a tangent about raven facts, but you were too distracted to listen. Instead, you were fixated on the bird that was nuzzling your hand in a very familiar manner.

A bird that wasn't a raven. A bird that recognised you.

A bird that was a robin.

Wing.

You felt like both laughing and crying. Here you are, celebrating finally getting some space from your soulmates, and you meet one? How ridiculous. This was a nightmare.

You need to leave, immediately.

You stood up, your chair making an awful screech as you did so. Coffee man looked a bit surprised, as you peeled Wing off you and handed it to him.

“Sorry about that.” You smiled. “I had some extra bird seed on me from feeding some birds today. Perhaps your soul animal could tell. I've got to be going though, maybe I'll see you some other time.” And with that, you start marching out the shop.

Maybe your behavior was suspicious, but you really couldn't afford to stick around. All it took was for one of your soul animals to appear on you and the game would be up. He’d instantly know that the soul animal would have appeared from your side of the connection. It would be over, the efforts of years upon years.

You couldn't let that happen.

“Wait!” A voice called out, the tapping of footsteps following. You swung back around, meeting the gaze of your soulmate. He extended a card to you.

“This is my number, perhaps we can text in the future. I know we didn't really talk, but I enjoyed your company.” He smiled. It would have been a nice scene if the sight didn't make your gut twist.

You took the card.

“Oh! And before I forget, my name’s Tim.”

You answered back, giving your name.

You prayed that he assumed the shakes of your body were due to the cold.

----

And that's the second chapter! Woohoo! Hope you all enjoyed it, since the third chapter is already half way done! I'm rather excited for it haha ^ ^

As always, feel free to reach out!

[moonchildstyles]

elan for halloween would be a dream♡ i can see her in the prettiest costume everrrrr and h just going along with everything, hearts in his eyes👼🏼🪽🦢maybe even a private moment together, in costumeeeee🤍

wordcount: 5.5k+

—————

"No, totally... For sure, it's going to be so much fun. Just text me when you get back to where you're staying... Yeah, I still have your location. Do you have mine?... Perfect, good. I'll text you later, but if you need anything just let me know... Love you, Fran." 

Harry watched on the end of (Y/N)'s bed as she spoke into her phone, hands wandering through her professionally tousled hair. While he was aware of what she was muttering to her best friend, not a single word processed when he had the distraction of her reflection in front of him. 

While he was getting a stellar view from behind her, the dressing gown she had draped over her shoulders hid the details of her halloween costume. This year, one of her three (three!) planned costumes was a Playboy Bunny. That was the bodysuit she had on tonight, complete with a puffed tail over her rear and a headband with bunny ears hanging off of her arm. The night's plans included making an appearance at a party thrown by a friend of a friend, the kind where her hair stylist was called and a makeup artist had been given the privilege of painting her face. 

She was left with big blown out hair, her face dewy and smooth with the prettiest blush dusting her cheeks. The pink flush was extra concentrated on the tip of her nose, giving the illusion of a bunny's nose without having to draw a button nose on her skin. Her lashes were long and fluttery, grazing her brow bone and brushing her cheekbones. Sparkling gloss had been swiped over her lips, playing against the shimmery white corset cinching her waist. In lieu of the traditional bowtie around her neck, she had a black choker tied around her throat with a tiny white bow stitched to the front. Her legs were silken smooth under a pair of sheer nude tights, leading to a classic pair of pointed black stilettos. Harry could already see her begging to carry her around so she wouldn't have to keep walking in those shoes. 

The champagne colored dressing gown draped over her form was only loosely tied at her waist, creating a deep V to show off stretches of her costume. It was hard for Harry to keep his focus when he looked at her. Her attention was miles far away from him, but he still felt drawn to her—unable to look away.

But, he reminded himself, he had to be on his best behavior for the night. He wasn't going out with her as her partner, dancing and drinking with her friends. He was going out with her as her bodyguard on duty, his sole purpose being to protect her to ensure she was safe amongst the throngs of almost-celebrities and paparazzi with blinding cameras. 

Though the real severe threats to (Y/N)'s well being had all but vanished once Damien had been removed from her vicinity (there were rumors he was relocated to Spain, the cover being that there was some internship with some artist he admired. Harry had a feeling Damien fled the second it reached him that (Y/N) knew and wasn't afraid of letting others know as well), there was always the worry of her walking into the lion's den that was the media. Especially at parties like these, where one drink would be exaggerated to chugging a whole keg, and photographers weren't afraid to push and pull for the ultimate shot. More than anything, he wanted to be there; to be a physical reminder that she wasn't alone and she had him on her side. 

"Right, right," (Y/N) muttered, rooting through the small purse she was taking with her for the night, "No, for sure. No, I'll text you... Okay, love you. Bye." 

Harry was surprised to see (Y/N) actually end the call given the fact that they'd said goodbye at least three prior times only to continue talking. Dropping her phone in her bag just as she found the lipgloss she'd been digging for, he watched as she took in a deep breath, breasts swelling over the balconette cut of her bodysuit. 

"Sorry," she sighed, meeting his eyes through the mirror with the applicator of her lipgloss dragging over her plush mouth, "I didn't think we'd talk that long." 

"'S alright," he murmured, forcing his gaze from the soft parts of her up to her eyes, "I figured you'd be talking for a while. I don't mind." 

Truthfully, this only gave him more and more time to get in all of his gazing and admiring and staring before he would have to be the consummate professional in public. He'd drink her in now in hopes of holding himself over until the early hours of the morning when they would finally be alone again. 

Rubbing her lips together to spread the gloss, (Y/N) pursed her lips with a pop. Harry had to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head as he watched. He forced himself to straighten his posture when she turned her gaze to his, no longer using the mirror as the middleman. 

"I wish you'd dress up with me tonight," she pouted, canting her head just right with the light catching her pinkened nose.

"I know," he sighed, standing up from where he'd been sat at her glamorous vanity. "Maybe another time—I've got to work tonight, remember?" 

She only rolled her eyes at him, a pinch of attitude twisting her features. "Sure, sure. Because someone's going to fight me in the middle of a night club."

Harry only looked at her with a deadpan look. She knew better than most just how easy it was for tensions to boil over in the dark like that, especially when alcohol was involved. He wasn't really in the mood to imagine her being the subject of a grainy cell phone video with someone attempting to pull her hair out or pour a drink over her head. 

"Fine, I know," she relented after only a moment of his silence, "I just think it would be cute if we were both bunnies or something. I'd even let you pick if you wanted something specific." 

He shook his head, his features finally cracking when he pulled her closer with an arm looped around her waist. "I just want whatever makes y'feel pretty. We'll match another time, but y'get to be the center of attention tonight." 

She softened immediately in his hold, reaching for him with the sleeves of the dressing gown sliding over her shimmering skin. "Okay. Thank you, H." 

Harry didn't bother with a response before he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to hers. The tip of his nose grazed the top of her own as he tasted the watermelon tint to her gloss. If it were up to him, he would continue this up until Sully arrived and they would be forced on their way, but he'd been in trouble one too many times to know that he wasn't going to get away with messing up her makeup before an event like this. 

Drawing away, the light caught a stray smudge of her gloss caught on the corner of her lip. With her face tipped up towards him like a flower looking for the sun, he used the pad of his thumb to lightly swipe away the offending smudge. He could feel the weight of her gaze on his face, tracing the planes and lingering on his lips, where he was sure  there was the mark of her kiss glistening in the low light. 

"I think I want to come home early tonight," (Y/N) whispered with Harry's thumb pausing just at the corner of her mouth. 

"Yeah?" he pressed, raising his brows as he looked down at her. Carefully, he maneuvered his arm around her waist until he was pulling the headband of bunny ears from the crook of her elbow. 

"Yeah," she breathed, no further explanation leaving her lips once Harry tipped her head back. 

He pushed the headband over her hair, leaving the volume of her hair to flare out just behind the massive ears now stationed on the top of her head. (Y/N) didn't move, only looking up at him.

"'M sure we can make that happen, sweet girl." 

Making the hard choice for the both of them, Harry unravelled his arms from around her and took a step back to allow clear air into their lungs. 

"Finish getting ready, and I'll let Sully know we're almost ready." 

With that, he exited her bedroom, knowing he would need a second to recuperate if either of them had a chance of acting normal for the night. He could feel (Y/N)'s eyes following him all the way out. 

—————

Harry shifted, adjusting his stance as his pants felt entirely too tight as he kept his eyes stitched to the Playboy Bunny across the room. 

It was criminal the way she was able to take all of the air out of his lungs when she was doing the most simple of things, when her attention was far from on him. Just dancing with her friends (and the hangers- on that would no doubt be posting about these interactions in the coming days) was enough to have him crossing his arms over his chest and clenching his jaw. He couldn't take his eyes off of her as she fluffed her hair, played with the bunny ears on her head with a grin aimed at her friends, and ran her hands over the curves of her body. 

He had forced himself into his work mindset before they'd gone out, just for those expectations to be cast aside. Of course, with his eyes on her, he was able to keep track of who was approaching her, and who was getting a touch too close, but that didn't mean that was his priority at the moment. He was too entranced with watching the way her hips moved, the swell of her breasts over the cups of her corset, the length of her legs in the silky tights. Every time the light shined just right over her face, and he caught the pink blush on her nose, he wondered how long he would have to kiss her until that blush became real. 

Photographs and videos were taken of her as she had fun, some where he was sure there could be a glimpse of him simmering in the background. He wondered if there would be any articles picking apart his body language. 

Despite how much fun she was having, Harry wanted to cling to her earlier request of heading home while the night was still young. Truthfully, he doubted he could make it much longer with just watching her. His hands were already fisted under his arms. 

A small smile touched the corner of his lips, cracking the stoic exterior, when he saw her twirl on the dance floor. She had her hands in her fluffed hair, and a bubbly smile on her features. He could just barely hear the melody of her laugh over the sound of the music and the volume of the chatter. The faint traces of her remaining lip gloss sparkled in the party lights, drawing his gaze to her mouth like a faithful spotlight. 

Harry barely saw the others in her circle playing along, dancing to the unfamiliar song thumping through the speakers. With the way (Y/N)'s body moved, the rolling of her hips, the way her breasts bounced against the tight corset, there was no way he was picking up on any details of the surroundings; no one could ask him the color of anything with the expectation of getting the right answer, not when (Y/N) was acting like this. 

Following the sparkles sprinkled over her décolletage, the ribbon around her throat and the delicate slope of her neck, Harry realized (Y/N) was looking at him when he matched her gaze. There was a sparkle there, one different than that of her makeup. A sly smile touched the very corners of her mouth. 

He'd been caught, but Harry didn't dare to look away from her. 

Watching as she excused herself from her friends, looking for only a moment over her shoulder before she threaded through the crowd. Heading directly towards him. Harry shifted in his spot on the edge of the crowd, stationed near the table that had been reserved exclusively for her and the attention she would draw to this party.

Aware of the cameras that could easily capture them, both professional and amateur, (Y/N) didn't draw too near, but the heat she brought with her was enough to tickle along his skin. 

"Hey, you," she greeted, a flirtatious undertone to the words. Her smile was a touch too bright to be only casual.

"Hi," he answered, dipping his chin in an attempt to level with her eyes, "Y'come here often?"

 A peal of laughter spilled from her, (Y/N) leaning forward as if he said the funniest joke she'd ever heard. "You're so annoying," she shook her head though she held no real grit in her voice. She recovered with her lips in a curl as she canted her head. "Are you having fun at least? You haven't even moved from here all night. 

"'M having fun watching you have fun," he clarified, "How are y'feeling?" 

"I'm good," she sang, her features staying rounded and innocuous despite the way her eyes dropped from his, to the pillows of his lips. There, the glittery lids grew heavy, hooding her irises. "I think I might be ready to go home, though." 

"Yeah?" Harry pressed, his voice suddenly deeper. Enough so that (Y/N) took the risk and leaned closer. 

"Yeah," she affirmed, nibbling at her lip, "I promised you I would let us get home early tonight, remember?" 

"But, if you're having fun, we don't have to go yet, love. I can wait for you."

 "I can't." 

It was the way that she met his eyes, gaze clear and heavy, that had a pump of blood rushing through his system and bruising his ribs. 

"Say bye to your friends, I'll call Sully." 

When she tossed a bright smile in his direction, sparkling gaze trained on him, Harry saw a camera trained in their direction to capture the moment. 

That was a photo he hoped would resurface at some point.

—————

"Have a goodnight, kids. I'll see you in the morning, Miss (Y/N)." 

With (Y/N)'s hand still tucked into Harry's elbow, a light jacket draped over her shoulders, she looked to Sully over her shoulder. "See you in the morning," she called.

Her steps never slowed, Harry keeping up with her while he bit back a smile. She definitely wasn't lying when she said she could wait. 

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, he pushed open the door to her building, allowing her to step inside first. The sound of her heels clicking over the glossy floor matched the ticking of his heart. He faithfully followed her towards the elevator, tossing a polite smile to the lobby attendant for the both of them. 

It wasn't until they were safe behind the gleaming doors of the elevator, only the mirrored walls and orchestrational music keeping them company, that (Y/N) broke. 

Swirling to stand before him, with her heels assisting her height, she tugged Harry down with her arms looped around his neck. As soon as she was close enough, she pressed her lips to his in a messy smear. The tip of their noses mashed together before Harry was able to tilt his head. He could feel the remnants of her lip gloss, the soft heat of her kiss, the creases that matched up with his so perfectly. Parting his lips just enough, he slipped the tip of his tongue across the plush of her own mouth, getting a taste of the few sips of alcoholic lemonade she had at the beginning of the evening. 

A breathy sigh fanned across his kiss when she opened her own mouth. Her tongue played along with his, getting a taste of him just as teasingly as he did for her. He clutched at her hips, finally getting more than a passing graze of the silken fabric that held tight over her body. The high leg cut of the bodysuit allowed him to feel glimpses of her bare skin through the tights pulled over her legs. 

He wondered how long he would be able to keep her in this outfit before he was forced to tear it off of her. 

Just as she chanced a hike of her leg over his thigh, the elevator dinged over their heads. it was Harry that pulled away first, looking over (Y/N)'s shoulder to see her penthouse level being highlighted. 

"I'll follow you, sweet girl," Harry murmured, forcing himself to turn her body away from his and towards the opening doors. 

She blinked herself back to the real world, clutching Harry's hand in her own before taking them down the hallway. It felt like an eternity as she dug through for the key to her door, long enough for him to skate his eyes down her form and over the exposed curve of her ass from the cut of the costume. He felt his pants tighten, his cock stirring at the sight. 

As soon as she was able, she tugged him into her apartment after her. It was Harry that had the wherewithal to lock the door after them, only getting through the twisting motion for a second before she was pulling him away. 

"We'll do that later. You're not my bodyguard tonight, just my boyfriend," she insisted, taking him to the couch with her. 

A lopsided grin took over his mouth, going along with her as she urged him to take a seat on the plush sofa. "I thought y'liked that I protect you? What happened to that, sweet girl?" 

"I do," she countered, taking a seat on his lap with her hands landing on the broad of his shoulders, "But I just want you to fuck me right now—not bodyguard me." 

Harry felt a pulse of heat race through his system. He didn't think before he smeared his lips across hers, decidedly messier and harsher than the kiss they shared in the elevator. 

She relented to his strength, clutching at his shoulders while he clutched at her waist. The boning of her corset was stiff under his hands, keeping her back arched as she leant into him. His palms skated over her form as she moaned into his mouth, the slick press and pull of their mouths filling the quiet of her apartment.

The ties of her corset slipped against his fingers just before he ran its other cotton fluff of her bunny tail. He couldn't help but to tug on it, hoping she could feel just how much he enjoyed her costume. The roll of her hips she gave in response was the right answer. 

A whining moan rang from her throat then, the thin covering between her legs providing no cushion against the bulge of his cock underneath her core. She pulled away with her chest heaving against his, leaving Harry to drag his lips down the line of her jaw and down the curve of her neck. 

He hoped her makeup artist for the next Halloween party wouldn't mind using a few extra minutes to cover whatever marks he left over tonight. 

Harry gently nipped at the soft skin of her throat, his tongue soothing that same area within the same breath. He sucked and bit, feeling the skin heat under his mouth. (Y/N) fisted his shirt, her manicured nails behind felt through the material. The light scratch against his skin was enough to have his hips bucking up to hers, meeting her soft core in a shallow thrust. 

"Harry," she breathed, his name said like a prayer in a delicate voice. "I don't want to wait." 

He only shushed her as he dotted kisses down her neck once he was satisfied with the love bite he left behind on her throat. She might not want to wait, but he was more than happy taking a bit of extra time with his mouth on her. 

Once he reached the swell of her breasts, he brought a hand up from her rear to the flexible cups of her corset. It didn't take much force to fold it down and expose her peaking nipple. He took the bud between his lips, sucking it against his tongue. The scraping of his teeth had goosebumps sparking over her skin, her nipple hardening against the buds of his tongue. 

Her hands on his shoulders shifted upwards into the baby curls on the back of his neck, fingers sliding amongst the waves. It was his turn to let out a strangled moan as he moved to press his lips to her other breast, spurring (Y/N) on to tug at the roots of his hair just enough to send a zip over the knobs of his spine. 

Wrapping an arm around her back, he pressed her closer to his mouth, muffling his moan as he laved his tongue over her breast. The only movement she could make over his lap was to sit on his thighs, pressing her core headily against his cock. 

He could feel the way his cock twitched when he imagined the heat that was waiting for him, the tight channel he was going to squeeze the head into. 

God, could he really wait much longer? 

Pulling away from her chest with a pop, his lips swollen and slick with saliva, Harry looked up at her with darkened eyes. She looked devastating, eyes glossy with thick lashes, her bunny-pink nose and lips agape, tongue tasting of his name. 

"Harry?"

He pressed a hard kiss to her waiting mouth. "Want m'help with your costume?" 

"I've got it," she rushed out, stumbling from his lap as she blindly reached for the ties of her corset. 

It only took a moment of watching her unable to reach the right ties, that Harry let out a breathy laugh. He spun her with his hands on her hips, presenting him with the view of her back with her bunny tail at his face. He couldn't help but to plant a kiss on the small of her back, an act that had a small giggle sounding from his girl. 

Harry worked gently and methodically as he undid the ties of her costume. He brushed the bare skin of her back as he worked his fingers under the ribbons, the boning loosening with every pull. Soon enough the entire ensemble was pushed down her hips and left in a puddle at her feet. (Y/N) took in a deep breath, looking over her shoulder at where he sat with spread legs on the couch. 

"Ears or no ears?" she asked, referring to the headband pinned to her hair. 

"Ears," he answered definitively. 

A sly sight colored her lusted features. "Okay." 

She had to have been putting on a show with the slow pace she rolled down her tights. (Y/N) slowly bent at the hips as she needed, her ass in Harry's face with the puffy lips of her pussy on display the deeper she bent. He could already see the way her slit was glistening for him. She hadn't been lying when she said she wasn't interested in waiting. 

It was a bit selfish, he thought, leaving her to do the hard work of undressing while reaching down to the bulge in his lap. But, he wasn't one to say no to a show, especially not one as pretty as this. 

Undoing the fastenings of his trousers, Harry pushed the band of his briefs down his thighs. The ruddy head was already smeared with precum, enough that allowed him to glaze down the rest of his length as he fisted over himself. There was no doubt (Y/N) heard the slick sound that rang through the apartment; especially not when she looked at him over her shoulder, her ass in his face and bunny ears on her head. 

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, eyes darkened. 

Her movements became a bit clumsy then, leaving the rest of his dressing to be left on the floor in record time. But, before she had a chance to climb back on his lap, Harry caged his free arm around her waist from behind. She let out a gasp, grabbing for his forearm that curled around his middle. 

Harry tugged her down to sit on his lap, her back to his chest with the warmth of her pussy pressed right against the base of his cock. A full moan fell from her lips, (Y/N) throwing her head back to be laid against his shoulder.

"Alright with this?" he asked, referring to both the way he was taking her from behind and the fact she was naked while not a single article of his own clothing had been discarded. 

"Uh-huh," she nodded absently, turning her head until she was snuggling against the column of his throat. "As long as you still kiss me." 

An affection curl took over his mouth. "'M sure we can manage," he mused, "Budge up for me, love." 

Lifting her hips while Harry's arm was still barred around her middle, he fisted his cock in his palm. With the way she hovered just above him, he was able to skim the head of his cock along her slick folds, smearing his precum around her core. 

"Let me know if y'want me to stop or slow down," he murmured to her, something he told her every time she allowed him the privilege of settling between her thighs. 

"Stop body guarding me, I'm f—" 

Her chiding was cut off when Harry pushed his hips upwards, splitting her open with the head of his cock. A garbled call of his name bubbled out of her, the kind of thing that she attempted to bite back but still made it way out. He pulled her down onto his lap, bottoming out through her slick walls. A pleasured sigh heaved from his chest. 

Harry bucked up into her, driving himself that much deeper, pushing his balls against her budding clit. Her breathing was shaky. 

(Y/N )'s legs were spread wide around his own parted knees, leaving her open for him to begin bucking up into. She made the sweetest noises, the kind that told him he was hitting the deepest parts of her she had once told him had never been reached before him. He didn't have to see her to know that her eyes were fluttering to a close, nose pinched as she fought to keep her cool 

Slick noises filtered through the space, her walls pulsing around him, attempting to suck him deeper though he was barely even pulling out at the beginning of each thrust. 

"I-I wanna help," she whined, digging her fingers into the cage of his arm. 

"Yeah?" he breathed, smearing a kiss to the dip of her shoulder, "Go ahead and help me, sweetheart." 

He always thought it was quite cute that she wanted to help him when she was on top, despite how much he could tell she enjoyed just being bounced on his lap. His sweet girl, right to her core.

Slowing his bucks to gentle rolls of his hips, Harry allowed her to shift over his lap. Moving until she was straddling his pelvis, knees brought up to dig into the cushions of her sofa. She was spread wide open for him to reach around and graze her clit, the leverage of her knees on the couch allowing her to lift off of his cock until only the head was still tucked inside before dropping back down. 

"Oh—Harry," she cried, arching her back with her bunny ears going lopsided. 

With the enticing curve of her back, Harry's eyes were led right to the rounded curve of her ass. As she established her pace, the plush flesh slapped back against his lap. He couldn't take his eyes off, leaning back to watch the feast that was her body as she rode him. 

Around her waist, his hand wrapped around her front dropped low until he met the top of her slit. He could feel the way his cock was splitting her open, a grazing that had his mouth falling open. His fingertips met her wet clit, the first touch being enough to have (Y/N) stumbling in her pace. 

"Harry, oh my god." 

That was all he needed to hear before he was circling her clit harder, the pads of his fingers unrelenting. "I've got y'sweet girl. Gonna cum for me?" 

"A-Are you?" 

"Want me to cum with you, sweetheart?" he choked out through gritted teeth. As much as playing with her clit was for her, the shocks felt through her body with the pulsing walls and squeezing thighs, that was for him. 

"Uh-huh," she moaned out, her fluffed hair in a mess, "In-Inside." 

It was his turn to let out a string of curses. With his free hand, Harry cuffed his hand around her neck, pulling her flush against his chest. Keeping true to her request, he pressed his lips to hers in a messy kiss; he was barely on center, teeth and tongues playing against one another. (Y/N)'s moans slipped through into his mouth, sweet and sugary. 

There was no way he wouldn't be able to follow through on her request. Not when she was asking him to cum inside her, where her walls pulled and squeezed around him. She was snug, unwilling to let go of him, even when it was only for a moment with the rolls of her hips. 

A frayed knot came to fruition in his stomach. It wasn't strong, but it was tight—the kind that would only crumble under pressure. And his pressure was calling his team in ecstasy, requesting him to cum inside of her with her wet pussy doing all the extra convincing. 

"I want you to finish first," he breathed against her mouth, "My bunny goes first." 

She wanted to smile, that much he could tell with the twitch of her lips, but there was too much on her mind to record the bubbling feeling over his teasing. Instead, a pinch formed between her brows, Harry's fingers over her clit doing that much more to draw her to the edge. 

It all happened so quickly. At one moment, she was fluttering her lashes closed with her lips parted, and the next she was pulling away from his kiss with her head thrown back to his shoulder. 

(Y/N) grew impossibly wet around him, her walls that much tighter. The pace of her hips dropped until she was making only shaky rolls, toes curling on either side of his thighs. A breathless moan fell from her lips, her kiss-swollen lips parted. 

All it took for Harry after feeling her pleasure and feeling the way every part of her body attempted to clung to him, was seeing the bunny-pink blush on her nose. Then he was summing. 

He felt the way his cock throbbed just before ropes of his cum spurted from his tip. He was buried deep inside her, his release painting across the ridges of her walls. (Y/N) could feel the warmth, the pressure, he could tell with the way she clenched around him, both inside and out. 

Keeping her flush to him, Harry wondered if they were in the same universe then. Were their heads filled with the same clouds? The thought had him holding her that much tighter. 

Coming back down to earth came faster for (Y/N), leaving her to start spreading kisses along the side of his face. 

"Harry," she murmured, breathless and tired, "Harry, I love you." 

A small smile curled his lips, his eyes still closed as she felt another aftershock rock his body. "I love you, too." 

His first act back on the material plane came in the form of turning her face to give her a proper kiss. The urgency had been drained from his body (literally), leaving him with only affection for his sweet girl. 

He slumped back against the couch cushion, keeping her with him as she went lax. 

"Can I stay here for a minute?" she murmured, her words holding a drawl. 

Harry spoke through his smile, "Few more minutes, sweetheart. Then we'll get ready for bed, ‘kay?" 

"'Kay," (Y/N) replied, though they both knew that he wasn't going to have the heart to make her get up until she was ready. 

Moving cautiously, Harry pulled the throw blanket draped over the back of the sofa. He wrapped it around (Y/N)'s nude body, covering her before the chill of the room could eat at the bliss in her system. 

Silence settled over them, Harry running a comforting circuit with his hand over her hip, the other hugging her around the waist. He closed his eyes when he swore he could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat—a grounding baseline. 

Yeah, there was no way he was moving from this spot unless forced to do so.

"Harry?" 

"Hm?" he hummed, pressing an absent kiss just to the side of her bunny ears. 

"So," she started, amusement beginning to echo in her tone, "Bunny?" 

Harry shook his head, biting back a smile as he held her that much tighter. "We're not getting into this tonight." 

(Y/N) only laughed. 

—————

[messenger-of-babel]

Home is Where the Heart is

Summary: You could never tell what Jason was thinking, and this particular night he has a lot on his mind. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.0K

Notes: Mini vent- had a bad day and this week has been really tough so I’m changing up the layout of today as well so I could put out a fic that was a little easier on my mind (I always need to have more pep in my step when I write for my lanterns idk why haha. So sorry Kyle my baby I want to do you justice so you're on backburner). It was indeed written to Ed Sheeran on loop cause I needed to lock in fr. ❤️❤️

Enjoy Lovelies~! xx

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When Jason looked at you, you often wondered what he was thinking.

What was passing through his mind that made his irises gleam that brilliant shade of emerald or let the natural curve of his smile adored his face. However, every time that you asked he just blew his hair from his eyes gruffly, but let the smile stay. "That's a secret," he'd say before his hand would pull you to kiss side and he'd press a soft kiss on your forehead.

It was a little known fact that the Red Hood was in fact Jason Todd, but it was known to even less that Jason Todd was actually a romantic at heart. Sure, he had a mouth on him, and he was on the receiving end of your hand up the back of his head more often than he wasn't. But he was also the quiet kind of clingy, the kind that would never ask to hug you or initiate contact, but would stay up so he could have your back pressed against his chest the second you slipped into bed. He'd laugh when you brushed the hair out of his eyes, the scar on the corner of his mouth unable to stop his boyish grin. It was those moments in your kitchen that made you think that maybe, just maybe, your life was all normal.

You knew it wasn't.

When your fingers brush against his forehead you know that the white tuft in his hair was a painful reminder of his death, the scar on his lips you so lovingly kissed caused by the very man who had killed him. His hands were littered with small scars from blocking knives and protecting his head from glass instead of childhood memories of climbing trees. His back was a canvas of white slashes that intersected in a map-like pattern, a surface already so touched that the symmetrical red lines you left seemed less stunning in comparison. Legs sporting burn marks, bruises permanent along his ribs; that was the Jason that you knew. So even if some days you pretended that he was some ordinary civilian like yourself, you still loved Jason with all your heart.

On this particular night he had come home from patrol, sitting on the kitchen counter while you patched him up. You had been a pretty awful field doctor the first time you offered, but he braved through your prods and pokes with a wince. He didn't say anything about the way you wrapped the bandages too loosely or that you had forgotten some antiseptic and had given the wrong type of topical painkiller. Jason could see the worry on your face, so he leant forward and kissed your forehead tiredly, thanking you with a soft murmur.

You didn't need to know when he slunk off the bathroom to rewrap the bandages, or when he reapplied ointment in the right area. He picked glass out of his own skin when you missed some, letting the shards clatter down the sink. All that consumed him was the thought of how soft you were when you handled him, when you passed the bandage around his middle, or when you tried to clean the wound with as little antiseptic as possible to try and prevent the stinging. He normally hated having to doctor himself up, meaning that even the smallest of injuries tended to scar under his negligence. Yet with you he had been ashamed of the scars, hyper aware of how your eyes lingered on them. More so, how other people stared at them when you were out together. So, for months he spent nights in the bathroom redoing the handiwork you insisted so passionately on learning, just so that there wouldn't be a scar you could blame yourself for later.

You were absolutely perfect, so there was no reason that he couldn't be for you too.

You had become better though, and that was through the help of Alfred. Now you had patched him up efficiently and tightly, patting his hip affectionately when you pull the bandage tight. "Almost done," you smile up at him, fingers pulling the end of the bandage tight and reaching for a bandage clip. "Just got to secure it and you'll be good to go."

He smiles and drops a tired kiss to your skin as usual, pulling your fingers away when you’re done so he can raise them to his lips. "Thanks, darl." he grins, eyes tired but grin still lively as ever. He slides off the counter to wrap his hands around your waist, kissing your nose. You just huff and give him a side glance, arms circling his neck without hesitation.

"What's got you all worked up?" you ask with a light laugh when he’s overly affectionate with you, making Jason groan and drop his head into your hair.

"Just tired." he mumbles. "Bruce pissed me off again today, started lecturing me on the way home."

"Bruce pisses you off most days." you chide. "How did you ever escape the lecture?" you chuckle, moving with him as he begins to sway.

"I turned the commlink off and came up through Southside Gotham so he couldn't follow me." he grins.

There it was.

"There's always something with you, isn't there?" you shake your head, beginning to spin around with him softly in the candlelight. He laughs, and you imagine it’s the sound of a young boy finally getting to live life normally again.

"Always is, babe. you know me." he chuckles, and his eyes flutter over to the candles you have on the counter. It was always dark when he came home normally, and in his tired state he hadn't questioned it. After all, his family worked best in the dark.

"Power outage at the moment?" he asks.

"Power got cut off." you murmur back with a sigh. "We missed last payment. Only a few days, but you know how quick they jump on those these in Gotham. It's all paid up now, but it'll take a day or two to get back. Cold things from the freezer are in the washing machine with the ice blocks."

He hums, stroking a hand up and down your back. "You're well prepared. Sorry for making you deal with them, I'll handle it next time, I promise."

Jason hated using Bruce's money.

Not only was it something that sat bitter in his mouth ever since he had come back, but he didn’t need it. Dick had also rejected it and moved to Bludhaven, and even though he'd never admit it, Jason respected the way he managed to build a home for himself there. He wanted to do that too, and he could do it damn well by himself. He still took some money, but it was no more than a wage from Bruce. He considered protecting Gotham his job, and he wasn't stupid. He wasn’t going to let his pride get in the way of helping you both live. He hated to see you stress about finances, but you never asked him. You never asked him to reach out to Bruce for more or reach out to Bruce yourself.

The first time rent had gone up it had nearly priced the both of you out of the cozy apartment you lived in, and you had been in tears for days trying to find a second job to cover the expenses. Yet you didn’t come begging for Bruce's assistance, no. You looked at him with those teary eyes and asked him to help make a budget with you so you could figure a way out, and you did. You were the most resilient person he knew, the most resilient person he loved.

He held you closer as he spun you softly around the kitchen.

You were going to need to be resilient.

He inhaled the scent of your shampoo and let his arms bask in the warmth of you. Your skin against his made the thrumming in his side ease and the headache blistering behind his eyes subside. As you relaxed against him, his head raced of all the ways that he could tell you. Tell the most perfect being that had ever walked into your life that he was leaving, and not only that, he was going to have to break your heart on the way out.

He cursed Bruce. He cursed Bruce for making enemies that had cunning greater than his own, for dragging him into the mess he had created. He had yelled and spat and screamed at the older man until his voice resonated off the cave walls, storming from the cave after tonight's fight. Bruce had asked the impossible of him, after they both got their asses handed to them in a surprise attack. They had taunted Bruce, not the Batman, and had enough evidence to bring Bruce's world and carefully hidden persona crumbling down around him. It just so happened that they had enough to bring Jason's down as well.

They knew about you.

Pictures of you had fluttered down towards him, filling him with an indescribable sense of fear. As hard as they fought, they had let the new visitor of Gotham's nightlife slip through their fingers and Bruce had asked him to break up with you not a second later. There was no empathy, there was no kindness or waiting for it to sink in for him.

But there never was.

In that moment Bruce was Batman, but Red Hood had been the scared Jason Todd.

How did he tell you that he wanted to break up when that was the furthest thing from the truth? That he would walk through hell barefoot and dunk himself in the Lazarus pit again if that mean that you were still there to warm his bed at night? How could he tell you that he didn't love you when his heart ached to tell you it every time he got the courage? He could play the tears, play the part of a sad breakup. That part was easy, considering how this was shaping to be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. It was the rage that he couldn't muster, for once. Rage was something that he saved for the streets, a place already so crime ridden and scummy that his bitterness and anger were practically masked under the filth. It wasn't a place for your home, the little shelter the both of you had carved out of Gotham with your own two hands.

So, he spun you around the room, eyes watering with tears yet to shed as he thought about how to let you go. He knew you wanted to stay, and that made his heart ache in return. It was like losing a part of him that hadn't even been lost yet, a void already forming in his chest. He sniffled lightly and thankfully you didn’t hear or notice his arms squeezing tighter, as if to imprint the feeling of you against his body. He tried to tell himself it was only a temporary thing, that he could explain it all to you later when the threat was done. That thought often lost against the conjured image of your heartbroken eyes his mind created to torture him, and the persistent thought that you'd probably never want to see him again when he was about to break your heart so violently.

You don't notice something is wrong until the first tear hits your hair, silently giving way to more. You notice the slight shake in his arms and the tension still wound in his body. Normally the stiffness in his muscles flowed out of him like water when he stepped over the threshold of the house, but not tonight.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask softly, pressing into him to try and comfort him, your heart panging in confusion at his strange behaviour.

Jason would never tell you, but when he looked at you he wondered what the rest of your life together would look like, and if you'd ever considering changing your name to 'Todd'.

[caelivir]

haze | suna rintarou

synopsis. on nights when you doubt yourself, suna rintarou reminds you who you are.

pairing. suna rintarou x fem!reader | wc. 2.6k | genres. timeskip!suna, fwb!suna, late night convos, insecurity, comfort | warnings. sex mentioned/implied, alcohol consumption on reader’s part and a little bit on suna’s

notes. i will be linking threads from twitter that contain ongoing fundraisers for palestine, sudan, congo, and many more. donate, and if you can’t, share the hell out of it. keep in mind these links are just one of many. please continue to look out for them, continue to educate yourself, continue to spread awareness, and continue to boycott. remember, our voices matter. we have to amplify our voices for the people who can’t. the hell these people are living through cannot end if nothing is done to pressure our governments and their oppressors.

one two three four five

on the nights you can’t sleep, everything hits you. failed relationships. bad decisions. thoughts of the unknown. it all piles on top of your mind until it crushes you. such worries make the room feel suffocating, like the air was suddenly stripped out of it. it makes your throat dry up and your skin itch. sitting in such a feeling drives you insane, and as much as you’d like to stay curled up under the covers to hide, you know that you have to find a way to breathe.

carefully, and without making any drastic movements, you slip out of bed. the cold air hits your naked body, sending shivers down your spine. you find your panties somewhere on the floor and slip them on. you pull the first shirt that you see over your head, and judging by its scent, you assume it to be sunarin’s.

at the thought of him, you fix your gaze onto his side of the bed. with your presence gone, sunarin’s face is illuminated by the moonlight that shines through his curtains. your heart jumps at the sight of him.

sunarin has always been beautiful. even a fool could acknowledge that fact. but it’s moments like these where you swear that he is unparalleled to any guy you’ve ever met.

you watch as his chest rises and falls with steady breaths. he has one arm folded under his head, acting as another pillow. the blankets you share cover him from the waist down, providing you with a partial view of his well-toned body and the marks you left on him. strands of his dark-brown, nearly black hair fall over his forehead.

seeing him so peaceful brings a ghost of a smile onto your face, but it falls just as quickly. you chew your bottom lip, opting to leave the bedroom. you carefully close the door behind you so that you don’t wake up suna.

you wander into his kitchen and open his fridge. to your surprise, there’s a selection of white claws sitting on the bottom rack. sunarin is not much of an individual drinker. he’d rather enjoy it with the company of his friends. the alcohol he does have in his possession are much more potent than a hard seltzer, which isn’t what you’re really looking for. you need balance. you need something that will calm you without you having to wake up to a throbbing head in the morning. hard seltzers are what you look for in those times.

you wonder what he got them for, but you shake that thought off quickly. it’s not your business. you pull the first can you see out of its place before nudging the fridge shut with your foot.

in sunarin’s apartment, a balcony is connected to the living room, separated by a glass door. in need of fresh air, you slide it open. the balcony itself isn’t anything grand. it’s spacious enough, but suna doesn’t care to decorate it lavishly. he says there’s no point. so all there is are two wooden chairs with a tiny, circular table separating them.

you pull out the chair on the right and face it towards the railing. you seat yourself on it before cracking open the white claw before taking a sip. the alcohol part of it tastes funky but it’s bearable with the help of what you realize to be raspberry.

you take a long inhale. the cold air fills your lungs and nips at your insides, but it feels good. you stare at the night sky, counting the stars and admiring the moon that shines above you. below you, you spot two buddies supporting each other, barely able to hold the other up because of the drunken stares of their bodies. you take a swig of your drink. you catch lights from inside buildings flicker on then off, a reminder that life exists everywhere.

for a while, it distracts you. it keeps your mind at bay from the pending worries that are waiting to pounce at you. there’s only so many things you can count until you get bored. the view from sunarin’s balcony is nothing special after all.

but who are you to complain anyway? sunarin has much more in his life to make up for it. he’s got the money to see better views. he’s got a career he loves, an olympic medal, and adoring fans. sunarin’s got it all. he’s got a life one could only dream about.

your life isn’t shitty at all, but it’s nothing spectacular like suna’s. it’s perfectly average. and now that you think about it, why did he settle in an arrangement with someone as plain as you?

before you can ponder that answer, the glass door slides open. you don’t bother looking back. it’s obvious who it is; there’s only one other person in the apartment. the second wooden chair scraps against the floor as suna moves it back. you stare ahead as he effortlessly lifts the circular table and places it on the side. with one arm, he picks up the wooden chair, setting it down next to yours.

his bare arm grazes you as he sits, and you just now realize that he’s still shirtless. you eye suna, and even in his barely awake state, he’s worth ogling over. his black sweatpants sit snugly on his legs, hanging a tad bit low. without the blanket, you’re granted full access to the muscles that your middle blocker friend has spent years honing. light catches around sunarin’s neck, and you register it to be the silver chain that you bought for his birthday. god, you wish you had your phone. his fans would start frothing if they saw him like this.

“bit cold out, no?” you finally catch his eyes, half open but focused on you.

“you’ve got my shirt, babe.” sunarin’s voice is still sleep-ridden, raspy even. “plus, you’re not even wearing pants.”

you look down. he got you. “fair enough.”

there’s a brief silence before you’re speaking again. “what happened? why are you awake?”

“bed was cold.” sunarin responds, and something about the response tugs at your heartstrings, but you ignore it nonetheless and sunarin doesn’t expand on it. “what are you doing out here?”

“thinking.” you say simply.

“about what?”

“you.”

it’s easy to spot that he wasn’t expecting that. sunarin’s eyes widen, and suddenly his brain wakes up. in typical suna fashion, he wipes his shock off, replacing it with an amused smirk. “i’m flattered, babe.”

you hum, opting for another downing of the seltzer. the middle blocker’s fox eyes follow the movements. “i see you’ve found them.”

“huh?” you glance at your hand. “oh. yeah.”

“let me taste it. i’ve never tried them before.” sunarin sticks his hand toward you. you raise an eyebrow but still comply.

the olympian takes a quick swig, pondering the taste on his tongue. he makes a soft noise of satisfaction before handing the can back to you. “it’s not bad.”

“what’d you buy them for?” you question. at least, you can get an answer now.

“they’re for you.” he answers, nodding his head toward you.

you chuckle emptily. “what?”

suna shrugs. “i’ve noticed. you’re the type who wants a drink after sex, but you don’t want anything ridiculously strong, but you’re also not satisfied with the juices i have in the fridge either. so i thought, why not meet in the middle?”

“you noticed that?”

sunarin furrows his eyebrows as if he didn’t understand why it’s so surprising. “‘course i did.”

“you don’t have to, y’know?” you whisper, suddenly feeling small.

“but i want to.” sunarin holds your gaze. it makes your heart pound a bit harder. “it’ll stop you from leaving.” he continues after a moment.

“what do you mean?”

suna clamps his lips shut as if he isn’t sure if he should reveal the reason to you, yet he does anyway. “it’s… weird… when you go. and yeah, you say that you’ll come back, but it feels… lonely in the minutes that you’re gone, and i don’t like it. but now that i think about it, i really should have gone with you. why the fuck did i allow you to leave alone?”

you shrug. “it’s okay. the convenience store is just around the corner. there’s cameras everywhere. i’m still here.”

“i know that.” suna sighs, slumping in his chair with a pout. “i know but still. either way, i just don’t want you going anymore. i feel more secure when i know you’re near.”

“oh.” you breathe out, feeling your blood heat up at those words. “thanks, sunarin.”

the middle blocker’s face scrunches up. “why do you still call me that? i’ve literally been inside you. you can call me rin. it’s fine.”

you roll your eyes at the joke, but the question weighs on you. you purse your lips together in thought. “it doesn’t feel right.”

“why wouldn’t it be?” suna adjusts his position, throwing his arm around your chair. his fingers hang down, barely touching your upper arm, and he’s trained solely on you.

“i mean,” you pause to gather your line of reasoning. “rin feels a lot more intimate.”

“and we’re not already?” sunarin smirks, but it only makes you sigh.

“no. fuck, how do i say it?” you point your gaze upward, poking the inside of your cheek as you think. suna lightly traces patterns on your arm while he waits, his grayish eyes never leaving your face. “it’s a lot more special, like it should be reserved for the people who really mean something to you.”

sunarin’s eyebrows furrow when he catches onto the implication. “are you saying you don’t think you mean anything to me?”

you shrug, beginning to chew on your lower lip. your leg starts subconsciously bouncing up and down. you swirl the contents of your white claw in the can before gulping more of it down. “i don’t know.” the line of formality and informality blurs and confuses you.

“(y/n). i’ve known you since high school.” sunarin reminds you.

“that doesn’t change anything.” you shake your head. “we didn’t reconnect until the twins’ birthday party six months ago.”

that seems to silence the olympian because he knows you’re right, and you let it run for minutes until your mind is gnawing at you, asking you to at least figure out where you stand with suna. “why me of all people, sunarin?”

“what?”

you gesture to the two of you. “this. our arrangement. why’d you choose me?”

“because.”

“because what? i mean, think about it,” you paint the picture for him. “models. idols. actresses. rich girls. you could have anyone you want.”

“sure, but none of them are you.” suna replies earnestly. you know he is, but a part of you is still not sold.

“but how could i possibly be better than them?” you press.

“because i trust you, (y/n). i trust you a lot more than i could ever trust them.” sunarin snaps back, causing you to blink at the outburst. he catches his tone, apologizes, and relaxes. he draws back the arm that was wrapped around your chair. “the spotlight has its perks, but it has its downsides too. it’s the same for anyone remotely famous. you have to keep your guard up at all times. if they find something to drag you for, it can ruin you and the career you’ve worked so hard to build.”

and when you don’t respond, suna ventures off into a different story. “did you know that you were the second person i consulted with about turning pro?”

“second?” you tilt your head, interested to see where this is heading.

“mhm.” he hums. “after kita, of course.”

“why?” you whisper. that seems to be the question of the night. why? why? why?

“you’re the realest person i’ve met, and the easiest to be around,” suna answers simply. “you’re reliable and honest, which is why i knew i could trust you to help me make a life-changing decision. you helped bring me into the place i am today all because you gave me a space where i could be insecure and vulnerable. i don’t need to keep my guard up when i’m around you. i can be me without any worry. you make me feel safe, (y/n). that’s why i chose you.” the middle blocker emphasizes.

you don’t know if it’s the alcohol, or the beauty of sunarin’s words, or maybe a combination of both, but you tears begin to well in your eyes.

suna frowns. his fingers instinctively reach to brush off the tears that cascade down your face. “hey, shh. it’s okay. don’t cry. it’s killing me, doll.” he whispers.

sunarin caresses your face with his large, somehow soft hand. the sight of you in this state makes his heart pound and his breath hitch. your glassy eyes catch every ray of light and the moonlight emphasize your beauty in ways that he never thought possible. you are a goddess bathed in light.

“you are so beautiful.” suna whispers before he’s pressing his lips to yours.

you reciprocate it instantly, eyes fluttering shut. two loose tears breach past, sliding down your face until they meet the corners of your lips. it mixes with the raspberry alcohol on your tongue, making the shared kiss between you and suna a flavor of bittersweet and salty, but neither of you care.

before, in moments of naked intimacy, kisses with suna were hot, desperate even. they made your body weak and took away your mind’s ability to function as his mouth dominated yours. it’s a result of the chemicals in your brain chasing a high.

this kiss is different. it’s a sensation better than anything you’ve ever felt before. it’s a combination of stars forming, tidal waves crashing, and butterflies flapping their wings at mach speed. this kiss makes you feel alive. you’re hyperaware of the heat suna’s touch lights on your face and throughout your entire body. the scent of his bodywash and shampoo intoxicate you. your heart pounds in your ears. sunarin feels so good. he always has.

and somehow, for a kiss that makes you experience every sensation at once, what really stands out is the way you feel comforted. every insecurity that plagued your mind dissipates with suna. he squashes them like they don’t matter because that’s what they are — insignificant.

is this what he meant? you think. is this what safety feels like?

when sunarin finally pulls away, you mourn the loss of him against you with a minuscule pout. suna reaches for your hands, bringing them up to his face so he can brush his soft lips against your knuckles.

“(y/n).” suna’s voice draws your eyes away from the olympian’s hold on your hands. “you are perfect just the way you are. you are exactly where you need to be. don’t let anyone, not even yourself, tell you otherwise, alright? if not, i’ll just have to hammer it into you until you understand. literally.” suna winks.

you roll your eyes at the innuendo, but a laugh escapes your throat, and sunarin grins. “there’s the pretty girl i know. come on, let’s go to bed. i’m fuckin’ tired.”

you down the last of your raspberry seltzer before standing up, discovering sunarin’s hand reached out towards you. without a second thought, you interlock your fingers with his, and you follow behind as the middle blocker slides open the glass door once more.

when you enter suna’s bedroom, you throw away the white claw can in the trash bin by his desk. you climb back into your side of the bed, pulling the blankets over your body, and scooting closer to suna’s warmth. sunarin hums as he slips his hand under your (but really his) shirt. his arm drapes itself around your waist. while you nuzzle your head into his chest, suna presses featherlight kisses on your forehead.

“good night, sweet girl.” suna whispers.

“g’night, rin.” you murmur back, not missing the way he smiles against your skin.

[serpent-benediction]

[TW: SAGAU Imposter stuff, death, some detailed descriptions of wounds and stuff. Don’t expect anything amazing].

Some would call this development a cliché of sorts, wrapped in the illusion of perfection. You knew better than to allow yourself respite in the face of trickery.

———————————————————

Chains and ropes entangled and dug into your limbs, keeping you stationary under the gaze of thousands of people. A majority of them were unknowns - real somehow, but never essential to your eyes. Blanks with no sense of self before you got here.

Other than the ‘NPC’s’ ; numerous vision holders from across the continents were here to witness this display.

The more prominent members of the Knights of Favonius were present, alongside the Adepti watching from the sidelines. Itto’s Gang were barely spotted from your position,

Roaring cheers echoed from every side, like waves crashing against a sea. Drowning. Even like this, you couldn’t gather the will to make out words as your body was dragged down dirt and concrete, scraping skin against the ground. The pain was numb, though perhaps that could be attributed to the amount of drugs they put into you — or the blood you’ve lost on the way here.

An abrupt stop forces your head upwards to finally observe where they’re taking you - and the sight is not pretty. A statue of gold wearing your face stretches into the sky ; a teasing reminder that this world was made for you.

Venti and Zhongli stayed within the confines of the crowd, keeping their identities hidden whilst the puppet Ei stood ahead, her signature blade at the ready. . . That costed a pretty penny out of your pocket.

“Do you have any words you’d like to say in your final moments, Imposter? Perhaps our Lord will take mercy upon you.” The nobody that was dragging you eventually speaks up. A Millelith member - Yan-something.

Venom seeped throughout every word spoken, only being comparable to the poison-tipped arrows that nearly nicked your skin on numerous occasions. If you were younger, more naive, you’d answer with pleas for your life - begging for forgiveness or some half-assed mercy.

The current you knew why this was happening. It was like a bad joke, akin to all those ‘self-aware’ stories you had the ‘pleasure’ of reading all those years ago.

Years in this hellhole. The memories of your first day here were engrained in your mind and the reason you survived this long. Suspicion was your ally in the first weeks, allowing your continued survival up until now.

Until you got sloppy. Careless. Attached.

An attempt at gaining a friend unfettered by deceit. A slow and gradual process at first, but the results were expected. Betrayal in the middle of the night, after months of back and forth, between moments of care and affection - only to have it ripped away. Perhaps you should have stayed in Snezhnaya. At least the Fatui were direct in what they were doing, and Childe was a good friend before. . . all of this.

You held valid, human emotions, but they treated you like an animal. Your rights were stripped in an instant, and you were forced into a cage - trapped amongst the worst dredges of society for what seemed like an eternity. Food was scarce, water even more, and the punishments. . .

Even if you survived, the scars would never fade. Flesh torn asunder with blades and scalpels, subjected to inhumane torture as they froze, electrocuted and burnt skin away ; red blood adorning the walls in a sickening mockery of your false form. The healing afterwards was just a formality, just so you wouldn’t die in their ‘humble care’.

You held the same face as their beloved idol, the being of all their affections and worship, yet they couldn’t handle the fact that your blood wasn’t a precious golden. Truly ridiculous to have the next best thing, but treat it like a third-rate gift, no?

“You and your… God, can go fuck themselves.” Vulgarity came easily, and sarcasm came next. You had no love for these… false people. They weren’t real. This was all a mere dream, or perhaps a coma, or maybe even the dying remnants of your brain already coming to an end.

Pain enveloped your face in an instant ; blood immediately trickling from the newfound wound. It wasn’t a crushed nose this time around, but it still fucking hurt.

“Don’t ever disrespect The Creator!”

How ridiculous. Aren’t you supposed to be ‘God’ here? Where’s Nahida? Where’s Xiao? Where’s the plot point in where you’re safe and sound with unbearable, psychological trauma?

Where’s your savior?

Was. . . was this really it? Years of your life wasted, struggling to survive in this backwater hellhole? You forced yourself to change just to fit in with the rest of these… people. You didn’t have a vision or some godly set of skills honed by A Player — you were normal.

What a damn joke.

— More of your crimson blood splattered against the ground as you were forced before the Shogun ; her outside face neutral, though you could sense that she was seething on the inside. A useless puppet through and through.

“For your transgressions against The Creator for daring to masquerade as them, I hereby sentence you to death.” — She didn’t even offer you a moment to say a final word. Tsk. Worthless bastard.

“KILL THEM! KILL THEM! KILL THEM! KILL THE IMPOSTER!” The chants roared louder and louder.

. . . But, you weren’t going to grant them the satisfaction of begging. You were scared, deathly so, but maybe release wouldn’t be that bad. . .

“When I get down to the abyss, hell, or whatever it’s called. . . I’ll make sure I give Makoto my thanks for being such a shitty sister.”

A singular movement, and everything shifted.

The sensation of having your head severed from your body ended quickly ; the disconnection of your brain from your spine bringing your story to a close. In the last, fickle moments before inevitability kicked in - only then did you notice the anger and sadness on Ei’s face.

It was. . . beautiful to see her cry.

. . . Perhaps they’d wonder why you died with a smile on your face. Perhaps they’d discover you were their God after your demise, grieving over your body with the fervor that only a cult could do.

Or maybe you were never special. A nobody like the NPC’s who happily spat and kicked you when you were down, insulting you with no end in sight.

Was this real—

——————————

You’re awoken to another cold breeze ; akin to the first time you’ve had the displeasure of arising here.

[ghouldtime]

Aquarium Trip with TF141

Because I fish I could go with them lmao, assuming that it's a big group trip

Captain John Price

Ever the leader of the group, he's making sure that everyone is keeping their phone on vibrate or low volume so no one can end up being a straggler who they have to go on a man hunt for

He wants everyone to at least be able to enjoy themselves but he's not going to be chasing them down, desperately trying to find them in the crowd. Just occasionally check your phones and you'll be all set. He's still as observant as always, keeping an eye out and his head in the game, even if he's supposed to be "Relaxing". He's a firm believer in never being too certain or wary

The group trip was more or less mandated as a 'go do things as a group so you can stay sharp, actually use down time, and bond'. Also because Price was needing a break, as much as he said he didn't, and the only way to get him to take it is to force him out of the office

Admittedly he can't be too peeved when the others seem excited (minus Ghost but what can you expect), AND there are a bunch of cute fish and creatures alike to look at

He takes his time with the exhibits - he's stopping to read the cards and identify the fish and other critters. Pair up with him if you want to actually take a breath and enjoy the experience at a reasonable pace

He'll content to just follow in the footsteps of the others and enjoy the day as much as he can, for once, taking it as it is. It's nice to not have to constantly lead or direct when they're fine doing their own thing and he can do his

It's not often he gets any form of time off or relaxation so you bet your ass he's trying his best to do such and make the most of the day he was forced to take. It's a conscious effort, too. He's so used to being in work mode that shutting that off is near impossible

It's why he doesn't go alone and someone is ending up as his buddy. Having someone there to talk can help get him out of his own head and focus on the present moment. You may have to snap him out of it every so often as he keeps thinking too much, it's a habit

Not to mention he likes having somebody there to tell his stories to. Idle chatter helps distract and helps him get closer to those around him. He's well aware he's often work focused so it is quite needed to shift his attention to the human aspect of it. His humanity is often hanging on by a thin thread so doing what he can to reconnect is vital to keep his head screwed on straight and to remind him what he's fighting for

You'll likely end up with him, sitting and watching the ocean tank - full of fish and sharks alike. It's an ever changing environment yet repetitive all the same, it puts him at ease to simply watch. He's quite fond of the stingrays. They remind him of himself :) (as in they can be hidden in plain sight and can kill you in an instant)

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley

Despite the fact he would rather not be out in public when possible, he didn't exactly protest the idea of the aquarium. Sure, it could be busy but that means he can walk off undetected and hide in whatever dark corner he so pleased until they were done. He was already planning that from the get go

Seeing as his father used animals to psychologically abuse him during his childhood, he's usually quite reluctant to be around them and usually isn't much of a fan. It's not that he hates them, he knows it isn't their fault, he's just... Weary.

He knows that they won't and can't do anything to him, especially behind glass, but there's always that nagging fear and persistent memories that haunt him that urge him to stick to the shadows and wait it out

He has a reason to avoid pretty much every tank. Eels? Like water snakes, too slimy. Jellyfish? Remind him of being stung on a beach off the Gulf of Mexico. Otters? He's sharing with you the unfun otter facts of what messed up animal stuff they do

Yes, he is an utter stick in the mud. He is well aware of that. But the fact that he's even there to begin with is significant progress. It's like voluntary exposure therapy - he's at least trying to work through it, bit by bit. Having the team there helps and they're aware of what is going on, so they simply give him the space he needs to work out his own emotions. No one is there to judge, they're just there to have fun

They all check in on him to see how he's holding up. You're absolutely welcomed to too, or you can spend some time hanging out with him, exchanging terrible fish jokes to help lighten the mood. Just don't expect to go around with him or have him follow through the exhibits

Simon knows he wanted to push past a barrier of some kind aside from simply being there, so he decided to pick a singular exhibit to actually visit on his own - it would be a way for him to reclaim some more autonomy and prove his thoughts and past couldn't get the best of him. Naturally, he picked the shark one

While he's well aware of the danger sharks pose, he's not actually had a bad experience with sharks... Yet. Their reputation is usually a lot worse than they are. Plus, you know exactly what you're getting into when it comes to them. You know what to expect. It's not like they're hiding their teeth or the fact that they're apex predators

He'll sit on a bench pressed to the wall, watching them idly swim about from a safe distance. He never said he was getting close, but watching them and not instantly being flung back to his worser memories is a HUGE step forwards. Instead, he's a bit more surprised at how he can actually enjoy seeing them move. Seeing such powerful creatures there in the flesh is so much greater than how they appear on TV or in books

Not that he'll admit it, but he relates to them. He too is an extraordinary killer, feared by most, yet understood by few. Many judge based on his appearance alone and misassume, when he's simply trying to live his life no matter the hand that's been dealt to him

He wouldn't protest if you sat with him and watched the sharks for a while in silence. For a man who isn't fond of animals, there's no denying the softness in his eyes as they swim past

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You'll probably actually enjoy hanging around him the most, he's the best buddy to have for trips. He's pretty much following Price if he's not rushing ahead with Soap. He's a bit more mindful in the sense that he will pause and look back, even back tracking to rejoin if they were getting too carried away

He's not the most well versed in all animal facts but he will happily tell you some of what he knows as you pass the exhibits. Did you know most piranhas are actually herbivores? Not the ones you're looking at, those ones are carnivores, but most species are. They're usually quite harmless. Usually. Not during dry season but that's different-

He's quite happy to see a variety of wildlife, from the smallest coral to the hulking fish. He can't say he's exactly used to it or that he's one who keeps an eye out for those things, but it's nice to see. It at least allows him to get a look at things he may otherwise never see or experience

Learning about them is important too because what if he needs it one day in the field??? Being able to identify what's around him, including the animals, can be super helpful. He isn't going snorkeling or to a coral reef any time soon but still, just in case. Gaz is smart, he will ALWAYS take a learning opportunity when he can

He's the one who already has the itinerary for the day with all the shows and educational events, and you BET he is on top of them and is going to go see them all

Please attend with him - he's usually the one picked out of the crowd because he's got the perfect energy. Winning smile? Winning heart? Winning attitude? It's hard NOT to notice him. He already has bad jokes in store and can win over the audience too

You just have to be cool with sitting front row and potentially in the splash zone. He's not sitting in the back, who knows when he gets to do this next? Also, why would you not want to be up close?? You're at an aquarium, there's water, you're going to get wet - that should be PART of the experience

You're both probably going to get a picture with an otter before the day is done

As cool as the other animals are, he's absolutely a fish person. He thinks they're extremely underrated for what they are. There's SO many different kinds of fish and colors too! How can you NOT enjoy that?

He's spending extra time in the coral reef and the fresh water areas because he loves how immersive they are - and just how many fish they have swimming around without many other animals. It is a glimpse into a world we never get to see

He also loves the octopi and squid. Creatures that can camouflage and ambush??? Absolutely wonderful, as far as he's concerned. He loves how intelligent they are too and how underestimated they can be

Stick near him, you won't regret it. He's great company and can happily talk about the different fish all day - and maaaaybe will just revisit a few of the tanks he especially liked (he's already calculating how to get a beta fish by the time you get back)

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish

To no one's surprise, he's leading the charge in. He is absolutely EXCITED about this. Cool animals??? A day with people who he cares about????? Sign him up

The group really just loosely follows him to start. He's got a solid game plan and is watching the crowd to see which is the least crowded area so that you can get the best view

Like I said, he's a man with a plan. Gaz might have the itinerary but he's the one scoping out the floor and already trying to figure out the game plan so you can stick together and see what you actually want to see

He naturally has a presence that can make others move out of the way. One look at extremely buff Scottish man who can have the meanest resting bitch face, and they'll move. That's not even including that you're being followed by three other not so short men. At least it makes for great crowd clearance and he knows it - and yes, he's using it to his advantage

Like Gaz, he too is reading the cards and is quite happy to learn about the creatures there. Not as thoroughly as Price, but he's still at least actively reading and trying to note things down in his mind

He's the one who makes the slightly inappropriate comments out of instinct, forgetting that there may be kids nearby. In his defense, he's not used to that - usually it's just adults. But he can't himself from going "Look of the size of that bloody bastard" while pointing at a grouper

His comments make for great banter, usually it's with Gaz - seeing as Ghost disappeared almost the second after they stepped in. "These little shits can function without a brain" - "Oh, so that makes the two of you :)" . It's like that the entire time, just a lot of back and forth - and yes, it's hilarious

He's not rushing through the exhibits but he certainly is sidetracked when there's so many things to look at and see. It's really a matter of what is catching his eye and why - there's so much to do and so many things he didn't know. It's VERY exciting for him in the best way

Whenever there's a creature he particularly admires, he'll actually stop and sketch it out, jotting down some notes about it in the margins of his sketchbook too. He brought a few colored pencils but it's really mostly just plain pencil

He's actually quite a good artist! As long as he has a wee bit of time to get the rough lines down, he can finish it off later really nicely. But he'd prefer to take his time. The aquarium is a great place for him to practice things like plant life and moving creatures

You're welcome to sit beside him and watch as he draws - or better yet, draw with him if you brought a sketchbook of your own. It fills in for some of the quieter time if you're blessed with a calmer exhibit. If you're lucky, he might even draw something so you can color it in as you wait for the group to catch up

Admittedly, he likes the piranhas. They're known and have a fierce reputation for a reason, but he in particular likes the shimmer of their scales and finds them to be under appreciated in that regard. He finds them beautiful and they're a lot more than their teeth alone

Naturally he also likes any otters or mammals too. He'll usually end up entertaining them, especially if they're seals - they're such funny creatures - they remind him of the seals he saw on the coast whenever he visited as a kid

BONUS

König

Seeing he isn't apart of the group, you'd actually run into him in NORMAL civilian style clothes (still wearing a surgical mask, albeit) if you wandered off on your own or got a bit too ahead - leaving the boys behind

Assuming that you don't happen to know him here, but it was at the seahorse tank. With the little seahorses clinging to the bits of plants that they had, here was this big guy with an utterly adoring expression on his face as he stared at them

He nearly jumped out of his skin when you made your appearance and commented about how neat they were

He couldn't help but to agree, they're such fascinating creatures and they're so tiny. It's a wonder how something that's the size of the tip of his finger can live like that

The whole reason he was at the aquarium was because he liked animals - and because his therapist recommended he get a bit more out of his comfort zone to further work on his social anxiety. Getting exposed to new environments at his pace would do him good in the long run. While he's been fine and can absolutely manage, he does want to push himself to come more out of his shell and to be more comfortable in his every day life. Plus, he has only one life, he needs to live it some

He also wasn't used to seeing so many aquatic animals - it would be something different, something that maybe could give him some ideas later down the line for some of his crafts. And it's a good reminder of how vibrant and diverse the world we live in is. It's easy to forget when you're surrounded by blood and gore all the time

Usually, people are quite intimidated by him, so he was surprised that anyone came up and even tried to say anything to him. But talking about seahorses and the other animals here was a LOT easier than talking about himself or anything else he usually had to default to

When you asked if he'd seen the moon jellies or the crabs yet, and he said no, how could you resist showing him right where they are and pointing them out? He'll love them! They're silly little guys like the sea horses

He's admittedly a bit flustered from the attention and having someone actually want to talk to him, but he finds it easier to open up and naturally when you're just... yourself. And clearly quite excited about being there - or more expressive of it than him

You sort of happen to end up walking along with him, chatting about all the different types of animals there are and what you like about them, or making comments about what they're doing and laughing about it

As awkward as he is - he's still got his sense of humor and charm about him underneath that you uncover as you get him to open up, even just a little bit

It's only when he sees your group at a distance and the recognition of who they are dawns on him . He backs away when you wave to them, making the connection. What a terrible coincidence - but the last thing he wants to do is create issues, especially when he's here to enjoy his day - and he's not wanting a fight, not right now. And especially not in civilian gear or in a place where they all can be banned from

(They do not get along in the slightest, trust me, it would not be pretty if they happened to put two and two together. There's not that many Austrians that tall who happen to have scars like he does)

He's back to making excuses as he back pedals trying to get out of sight before any of them see, but not before slipping you his number. After all, it would be such a shame to let such a good connection go to waste :)

[tarohugs]

Emergency on Aisle U (had my heart from the start) teaser

"you'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you"

► Let’s just say, you have a long history with Lee Jeno. The two of you had a “special connection” during your situationship. Everyone around you felt it and so did you. After Jeno learned about your feelings, he decided it was time to end it because he wasn’t into commitment. You tried to salvage your relationship, but, unfortunately, Jeno had already found another girl. Luckily for you, Jeno can't just stick to one girl. 

► fuckboy!jeno x convenience store worker!reader

► fluff, angst, situationship au, college au, situationship to haters to ???

► w/c ongoing...

► a/n: this is my first fic ever so please give me a chance and give me any tips! this will DEFINITELY be a work in progress so be patient with me. let me know if you enjoy!! (did you get the play on words? Aisle U... I love you... yea)

Seeing Jeno with another girl was the last thing you expected to show up on your feed. While you and him were together he never made any effort to post you despite your constant nagging. Yeah, you guys weren’t exclusive, but in this day and age, who is?

But Jeno couldn’t actually like her. Right? 

You identified her to be Yujin from her tag in the post. Although you were desperate to envy her, you had to admit, she was beautiful - not as much as Jeno though. When you first met Jeno at a campus party, it was like he had just been sent from the heavens. He was the embodiment of a Greek god. It wasn’t just his looks but his being that struck you. At that moment, you knew you had to have him. 

After your life changing encounter, you decided to do some in depth research of the man - asking your gossip-fueled friends about him. They told you information that didn’t quite suit his face. One of those being he was the manifestation of a stereotypical campus heart breaker. 

Of course, he just had to be the main character. But who could blame him, with the face and body he possessed, he was bound to draw girls attention. Which is why seeing him with Yujin didn’t shock you. Rather, what did surprise you was the fact he was wearing the chain necklace you had once gifted him. Did I forget it was marked with your initial too?

While you two were together, you were aware he was talking to other girls. Though, you didn't mind because you friends had warned you of his behavior after all. Refusing to let his side hoes stop you, you continued on with the relationship regardless.

You became accustomed to your restless night with him - sharing endless stories of pillow talk you couldn't even remember. The bond between you two had blossomed, and you believed you had finally become something to him.

He had once told you during one of your nights together that he “had never felt this way before.” Bullshit. He had to of told this to every body on his list. 

Being the naive girl you were, you felt that this symbolized a new step in your relationship. As a gift, you had given him the pictured gold necklace with your initial. His smile was one you couldn’t reciprocate. For the first time, you had saw Lee Jeno happy. Yeah you had seen him happy before, but this was different.

Silly you though, of course it was just him playing one of his games. After the night you had confessed to him and saw the shocked expression on his face, you knew you had fucked up. Thinking back to the day you had gifted him your symbol of love, you realize he must have been so untroubled because you had fallen into his trap.

But why was he wearing the necklace in the photo? Clearly he had moved on. If he loved you, he would’ve stayed. But he didn’t - you have to remind yourself that before you fall again. 

Besides, your friends had seen what happened to you after the “break-up.” He destroyed you. Meanwhile, he continued his routine of partying and drinking until he could find the next girl on his agenda. 

A sliver of hope in you, though, thought that maybe, just maybe, it was something. But you had to look past it - for you and your friends. You promised you would move on and you couldn’t disappoint them. 

Jeno and you had been separated for no longer than two weeks. You should be over him by now but something in you possessed yourself to fall in love with him. 

Okay, not in love but on the verge of it. You knew you shouldn’t fall for a boy you just met, but he treated you so right during your time together. Why did he end it?

Truth be told, there was likely no answer to that question; however, you were determined to find it. 

► a/n: thank you so much for making it to the end! plz let me know what your thoughts are and if you are interested in the whole fic :D

[missy4176]

Protective Instincts

Kim Dokja x Reader

Kim Dokja has always been someone who’s difficult to read, a man with a thousand faces hidden behind that ever-present, enigmatic smile. To most people, he’s an enigma, someone who effortlessly blends into the background, observing the world through his dull eyes as if he’s merely a bystander in his own life. But to you, the person he’s chosen to let in, he’s more than that. Beneath the layers of apathy and self-imposed distance, Kim Dokja harbors a deep, unyielding protective instinct—especially when it comes to you.

It’s not that you can’t defend yourself. You’ve proven time and again that you’re more than capable. The world you live in demands nothing less. The apocalypse, with its brutal trials and life-or-death scenarios, has honed your skills and instincts to a razor’s edge. Kim Dokja knows this; he’s seen you fight, seen you survive, and yet, despite that knowledge, there are moments when his concern for your safety overrides his typically detached demeanor.

The first time you notice it, you’re caught off guard. A sudden attack from a group of hostile survivors leaves you both cornered. You’re prepared, muscles tensed, ready to strike back, but before you can act, Kim Dokja moves. His body shifts instinctively, stepping in front of you, positioning himself as a shield. It’s a split-second decision, one that speaks volumes about his true feelings—feelings he often keeps buried deep within, masked by layers of self-loathing and detachment.

“Dokja, I can handle this,” you protest, even as you feel a flicker of warmth at his concern.

“I know,” he replies, his voice calm, almost too calm. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you.”

His words are simple, matter-of-fact, but there’s an underlying intensity in his gaze, something that makes your heart skip a beat. It’s in these moments, when his guard is momentarily lowered, that you catch glimpses of the man beneath the mask—a man who, despite his best efforts, cares more than he’s willing to admit.

It doesn’t stop there. Whether it’s guiding you through dangerous terrain, subtly steering you away from potential threats, or using his quick wit and vast knowledge to outmaneuver enemies, Kim Dokja’s protective instincts manifest in various ways. Sometimes it’s subtle, like a quiet warning before you walk into a trap, his voice low and serious as he murmurs in your ear. Other times, it’s more overt, like when he pulls you out of harm’s way, his grip on your arm firm but not painful, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary.

“Stay close,” he often says, his tone leaving no room for argument. It’s not a command, not exactly, but a plea disguised as practicality. And you listen, not just because it makes sense, but because you know it’s his way of showing he cares.

Kim Dokja isn’t a man of grand gestures. He won’t sweep you off your feet or shower you with flowery words of affection. He’s too guarded for that, too aware of the fleeting nature of happiness in a world that’s constantly trying to tear you apart. But his actions, the way he places himself between you and danger, the way his gaze sharpens when someone threatens you, speak louder than any words ever could.

There are times when you catch him watching you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a softness in his eyes, a rare tenderness that he doesn’t show to anyone else. In those moments, you realize that his protectiveness isn’t just about keeping you safe—it’s about holding on to the one thing in his life that makes him feel alive. You are his anchor, the person who reminds him that he’s not just a character in a story, but someone who deserves to live, to feel, to protect.

And so, you let him. You let him be your protector, even though you don’t need it, because you understand that it’s his way of showing he cares. You don’t push him away when he steps in front of you, don’t protest when he pulls you close in the midst of danger. Instead, you accept his protectiveness for what it is—a testament to the depth of his feelings, a reflection of the connection you share.

In the end, Kim Dokja’s protective instincts are just another facet of his complex personality. They’re a reminder that beneath the layers of detachment and cynicism, there’s a man who cares deeply, even if he doesn’t always know how to express it. And in a world where everything can be lost in an instant, that protectiveness becomes a lifeline, a quiet, unspoken promise that no matter what happens, he’ll always be there to protect you—even if it costs him everything.

[happy74827]

Bring It In

[Sam Winchester x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: After a rough hunt, Sam seeks your comforting touch.

WC: 1747

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Sammy!! My adorable pookie. God, he was so precious in the early seasons that I just had to write about him.

『••✎••』

Waking up to a shadow in the middle of the night, especially when you were staying in a motel that was miles away from any civilization, was never a good thing. Especially when you could feel it even before opening your eyes, its presence heavy on the air. It made your senses scream and your heart race.

The feeling of being watched and studied was not something a normal person would like to wake up to, and as you lay there in bed with your eyes closed, that feeling struck you right into your core, making your muscles tense. Adding into the fact of the complete awareness of the supernatural world you were a part of, that was just the cherry on top of the cake.

But as you lay there, your brain going at 100 miles an hour, you realize this instance wasn’t one of those life-threatening situations you were so used to. It was an oddly comforting feeling as the flashlight you flew into the darkness was caught in the hands of someone you trusted with your life, the same hands that have touched every inch of your body in a way you could never forget.

He had been hunting all night, you could tell. Although it was dark, and only the soft glow from the motel sign illuminated the room, you knew his clothes were covered in dirt and leaves, and his hair was a mess. He didn't care, though, as he walked closer to you, his eyes becoming clear as he turned the flashlight on.

Sam had a tendency to get into these moods. A mood where he needed something to ground him and remind him that the life he was living was worth fighting for. You had always been that thing for him, his anchor, and as he approached the bed, his mind was racing with everything and nothing all at once.

As he sat down on the edge of the bed, his large hands reached out, touching you softly. It wasn’t sexual; he had no interest in that right now. He was looking for comfort. He just needed you.

You sighed, pulling yourself up from your position on the bed to get a better look at him. His eyes were tired and glistened over with some sort of sadness that he tried to keep hidden from you, but he knew he couldn’t. The tears reflected the moonlight that shined through the blinds and through the flashlight, and although the shadows under his eyes were more prominent than usual, he still looked at you with the most love you could imagine.

You didn't have to ask him why he was here, why he had been gone all night. You knew. He was a creature of habit, and Sam was very good at reading people. He knew when you were at your weakest when you needed him the most, and you did the same for him.

He needed reassurance. He needed to know he was doing the right thing, or else the guilt and shame would eat him alive. So when he saw the soft expression on your face, the gentle smile, and the look in your eyes, he nodded. It was soft, barely noticeable, but you saw it.

“You scared me.” You said, reaching forward to take his hand in yours. The flashlight was still clutched tightly in his other hand, the light shining up at the ceiling.

He sighed, squeezing your hand and looking away. It was silent for a moment before you felt him shift. The mattress moved slightly under his weight as he scooted closer, his eyes meeting yours once more.

Without a word, he reached forward, the hand that had been holding the flashlight coming up to rest on the side of your face. You leaned into his touch, the roughness of his hand feeling nice against your soft skin. He ran his thumb over your cheek before moving to cup the back of your head.

He was slow, almost hesitant, and you gave him a reassuring smile. You loved this man more than anything, and the gentle kisses he placed on your forehead and cheeks were the most tender of moments. You felt your heart swell as he finally kissed your lips, his hand moving from the back of your head to wrap around you, pulling you closer.

He let the flashlight fall to the floor, the loud thud it made against the carpet going unnoticed. You felt his lips tremble slightly, his emotions getting the best of him as he deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pulled him closer.

It wasn’t long before he pulled away, just slightly, his breath warm against your lips. Now you saw the blood, the bruises, and the cuts covering his face. He didn’t seem to care about them, but you did. It broke your heart, knowing that he had spent all night killing monsters and demons just to keep you safe. To keep everyone safe.

He let out a sigh, a long, hard breath as if he had been holding it in forever. Relief, the kind that came after a good cry or after a bad case of the flu was gone, washed over his face, and you could see the tension leave his shoulders. He leaned forward, resting his head on your shoulder, his arms tightening around you.

“I know,” He spoke, his voice cracking slightly. His tone was soft, his lips brushing against your ear. You shivered, rubbing your hands over his back. “I’m sorry, I just.. I needed- I needed to make sure that you were okay. That we were okay. It just... It gets overwhelming, and with what happened to Jess-”

You shushed him, turning to place a kiss on his temple. He sighed again, his breath tickling the side of your neck. His scent surrounded you, a mix of dirt and sweat and a hint of gunpowder. Dean’s presence was there, too, a bit of cologne and beer mixed into the air.

You didn't need to know where Dean was. You were pretty sure he had been on a hunt with Sam, and now he was at a bar, trying to get over his demons. The two brothers were so closely similar and yet so different, but in moments like this, where they were both torn down to their core, you could see the resemblance.

The two of them had a lot of things in common, but their biggest similarity was their stubbornness. They refused to ask for help, and they were afraid to show weakness, especially in front of each other.

Dean was off, drinking his worries away, while Sam came to you. A pattern the two had developed.

You had met the brothers in a motel very similar to the one you were in now. You were there for a simple vacation, a break from all the stresses of your life, but things changed when you were woken up to the sounds of gunshots and glass breaking.

Dean had burst into your room, dragging you out with him. He was a smart guy, and although he had no clue who you were, he knew you were in danger. He had gotten into a fight with a… well, it didn’t matter what it was; all that mattered was that the thing had a taste for human flesh.

You and Sam had bonded instantly, and Dean wasn't too far behind. It was the start of a beautiful friendship despite the poor circumstances. After a year of being around each other, helping each other out with whatever situation came, the three of you became closer than you ever thought possible. A little more with Sam, of course.

So, now, when Sam comes to you late at night, needing you, needing reassurance, you don’t hesitate. You give him all that he needs and more, and when he holds you close, his body trembling and his words shaky, you know it was the right decision.

His grip on you tightened, pulling you into him. You let him, holding him just as close, your hands gently running up and down his back. You could feel the fabric of his shirt under your fingertips, and the heat from his skin radiated through.

After a moment, he pulled back, his eyes searching yours. You could tell he was worried about Dean, about you, about the whole situation. He was afraid of what was coming, and although he didn’t know it, his fears were valid.

There was a lot to come, and it wasn’t going to be easy. The two of you had been through a lot, and although you didn't regret it, the thought of something happening to him was enough to drive you crazy.

You were about to say something, but the words never left your mouth. He was kissing you again, the force much stronger than the last, his hands gripping your arms tightly. It was an amazing kiss, filled with all the passion and love he had for you, and as he moved you, pushing you onto the bed, you felt his desperation.

It wasn’t a desperate need for sex, but a desperate need to be close to you. You knew this, and as you tangled your fingers into his hair, kissing him just as desperately, you knew he needed you more than anything. Who cared if you ended up losing more sleep than normal? Who cared if the sun came up and Dean returned to the room, finding the two of you still tangled up together in a mess of sheets? Who cared if the world was coming to an end and this was the last time the two of you would ever see each other?

He needed you, and as he whispered your name, his voice cracking with emotion, you knew he had no plans of letting you go. Not now, not ever. And when Dean did pop up a few hours later with messy hair and his shirt on backward, he would take a single glance and walk right back out the door, knowing he was going to be okay.

The three of you would be okay, and when the time comes and the world starts ending, you would fight till the very end. Because there is nothing worth fighting for more than your family, and you would do anything to protect the people you loved.

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Wonwoo Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

One Shots

meet cute of the century (f a s) by @lovelyhan ✩♬ ₊˚. the last thing you expected when you volunteered at your city’s local animal shelter is to meet the hottest cat person in the world. now if only he’d just adopt one of them so you’d stop ogling him every time he drops by.

Midnight Appetite (s) (ft. mingyu) by @writeformesinpie ✩♬ ₊˚. You have found yourself in possession of an invite to the exclusive host club The Midnight Appetite. Within moments of walking into the establishment, one of the hosts sinks his claws in, staking his claim on you for the night. It isn’t long, though, before he adds another to your table. This isn’t how you thought your night would go. 

class project (s) (ft. mingyu) by @smileysuh ✩♬ ₊˚. You’re less than enthusiastic about being paired with notorious frat boys Mingyu and Wonwoo for a class project. They make it a point to change your opinion of them... by being the ultimate meanies. 

The Peephole (s) by @rubyreduji ✩♬ ₊˚. wonwoo can’t stop thinking about how he wants to ruin his roommate, the peephole in his wall isn’t helping tamper those desires either

homewrecked (a s) by @ncteez ✩♬ ₊˚. Wonwoo doesn’t seem to realize that you’re giving him the best option out of a relationship that doesn’t even involve you. With a cheating best friend on one side, and a loyal Wonwoo loving her from two hours away on another, you decide that home wrecking isn’t always a bad idea. 

April Shower (f s) by @sluttywoozi ✩♬ ₊˚. Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.

wedding weekends with wonwoo (f) by @suhnshinehaos ✩♬ ₊˚. jeon wonwoo, the perfect man. kind, smart, successful career, and not too bad on the eyes. all his friends are getting married and everyone’s aunts, mothers, and family friends are trying to set him up with their friends, sisters, brothers, nieces, and nephews at every wedding he attends. he’s tired of it. what better way to solve his problem than to employ your help, someone who’s having the exact same one?

penance (s) by @smileysuh ✩♬ ₊˚. You’re hyper-aware of the fact that all four of your lovers are just outside the confessional, that they’re listening in- it’s making your mouth dry, your palms becoming sweaty as you rub them against your dress. “When you last confessed, you mentioned greed and lust as your sins. Would you care to elaborate more on that?” The priest asks. “Maybe it will be easier, now that you’re amongst… friends.”

Loud Leather & Loud Thoughts (a f) by @bitchlessdino ✩♬ ₊˚. Hard to maintain a good acquaintanceship if it started off on the wrong foot, but Wonwoo tries to do just that, no matter how much you resent him from childhood. Now reunited as adults, you're questioning whether your negative impression of him has stuck since being away or have you grown up just enough to realize how much between the two you have changed?

Closer (s) by @hannieehaee ✩♬ ₊˚. after making it all the way to your final year of uni still having not experienced a single orgasm, you decided to take matters into your hands. your solution? asking your best friend wonwoo to teach you all he knew.

game on (s) by @ahloveisboo ✩♬ ₊˚. it’s been a shitty day and all you want to do is be close to wonwoo.

Chat, is that Rizz? (s) by @sailorrhansol ✩♬ ₊˚. Your rivalry with Wonwoo has existed for as long as you’ve been streaming. It’s fun, and both of your communities love it. Wonwoo is happy to play along - at least until you question his rizz while live, and he feels like he should remind you just how much rizz he has.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Called to Duty 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The bank is as ever anxiety inducing. On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body. Every day you wake up, you feel even more crummy than the last. 

Your hopes of a treat at the cafe are dashed. You give a longing look as you walk by and peer through the window. You can smell cinnamon and coffee. You're strict non-caffeinated, doctor's orders, but a decaf would be amazing with one of those cinnamon buns. Ugh, damn, why are you torturing yourself? 

You turn to continue down the street but barely dodge out of the way of another pedestrian. He makes sure you can't pass as he mirrors you, sidestepping to block your way. You sigh as you step back and look Sy in the face. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you. 

"Hey," he flips up his dark sunglasses, "how're you feeling?" 

You stare up at him defiantly, not quite bold enough to glare. He hasn't done anything wrong, he's just persistent. It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. Or that your emotions are volatile, one moment teary eyed, the next blazing hot with rage. 

"Fine, thanks for asking," you shrug, "Sy, I gotta--" 

"I owe you a cookie," he points to the cafe window at his shoulder. 

You blink. You remember the cracked shortbread. You forgot about that. The mention of the sugary treat makes your stomach growl and your mouth water. 

"No, you don't--" 

"I do," he insists, "I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one." 

"I got it free," you say, "it's not a big deal." 

"It is to me," he counters, "I was heading in anyway." 

You stare at him. You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you. You look across the steeet to the pharmacy then back at him. The aromas wafting out with each swing of the door have you ravenous.  

"I can't stay long, I gotta work," you say. 

His cheeks twitch, as if he tamps back a smile before it can bloom, "after you." 

He gesture behind you to the door. You turn and lead the way. He reaches past you to open the door before you can and you enter ahead of him. The din within is lively and the air is warm from the crowd and the employees steaming out orders behind the counter. 

"Wanna find a seat?" He suggests, "you should rest." 

You open your mouth to argue but think better of it. You'd rather not stand in the clustered line. You nod and head off to claim the table by the window. There isn't much left. 

You pull out the chair and brace your back as you sit with a sigh. You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt, instead you turn your attention out the window. 

Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment. 

You sit and wait, wring the strap of your small purse. You watch the street. If it wasn't for the people, Hammer Ford would be serene. 

A plate clinks in front of you and a porcelain mug as well. It isn't a cookie and you can smell the herbal tea's rosy flavour. You peer up at Sy as he gives an apologetic look. 

"Cookies are still baking so I got you a cinnamon bun," he says. 

"And tea?" You add. 

"Can't have one without the other," he says, "no coffee for you." 

"Yeah, I... I know." 

You could laugh. He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.  

"Thank you," you smile as best you can. 

"Gotta get mine, be back," he excuses himself and marches back to the counter. 

You look down at the gooey iced draped spiral. You really shouldn't. Not only accept his misspent generosity but indulge in the excess sugar. Yet your hormones won't let you resist. You can at least wait until he's sitting down. 

He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. He sits and takes off his hat and sunglasses. 

You put your purse to the edge of the table and rest your hand on your stomach, doing your best to resist the animalistic need to tear apart the dessert. His eyes follow the movement and you quickly drop your arm. You don't even think when you do it, it's just a habit. 

"You-" he begins. 

"Wh--" you find your voice at the same time. 

You both stop, hesitant. He nods and gestures to you, lifting his cup as he watches you intently. That's new too. Thor never listened much, only talked a lot. Besides, you weren't exactly together for the conversation. 

"Sy," you clear your throat and sit forward as much as you can, "why are you following me around?" 

His brows form a vee, "I'm... it's not... I'm tryna help." 

"Okay, but why?" 

His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to." 

"You want to?" 

"Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me." 

You can't help your snort, "we hardly know each other." 

"Isn't for lack of trying," he taps his fingers on his mug. "Aren't ya gonna try the bun?" 

"I will," you assure him. He's trying to distract you and it's close to working. The cinnamon is driving you mad. "A baby is a lot of work and... I'm not your responsibility. I know Thor is your friend." 

"Was," he interjects.  

"Sure," you accept his decisive declaration, "but that doesn't mean you have to worry about his mistakes." 

"Mistakes? I don't think so," he says. 

"Well, it's not exactly planned," you scoff, "Sy, really I don't feel right about you doing so much." 

"Wouldn't feel right not doing it," he shrugs his burly shoulders. 

“But why?” You nearly exclaim. You just want to know why he cares so much, about you? 

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “they talk about me too, ya know? Since I got back from... serving. They say I’m f—crazy, or whatever. It wasn’t easy or nothin’ over there but I’m not nuts. Not like they say. Just like you’re not some slut, forgive me for saying it out loud.” 

You look down at the table and exhale. So he hears as much as anyone else about you. At least he’s honest. At least he isn’t joining them. You purse your lips and reach for the cinnamon bun, unable to restrain yourself any longer. 

“For what it’s worth,” you raise your eyes to meet his, “I never thought you were... unwell, or whatever they say.” 

His cheeks pinch, another suppressed smile, and he tilts his head, “I’m only happy to hear you think of me.” 

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Life's Pleasures (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer struggles with some side effects of his medication after prison. Request: Spencer being insecure about his weight gain post prison. Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader Category: Comfort Content Warning: Weight gain, body insecurity  Word Count: 800

MASTERLIST

Spencer was a creature of habit more than he was of comfort. Call it superstition or autistic tendencies, even the slightest alteration to his routine could have catastrophic results.

Unsurprisingly, three months in prison did little to help him with those feelings. In fact, they made them much worse.

Despite the best efforts of yourself and the entire BAU, there was no question that Spencer needed help. Thanks very much to each of you, however, he had finally felt okay adding a small capsule to his daily routine.

It was nothing he was ashamed of. Unfortunately, however, that magical little concoction of neurotransmitters had a few… unintended side effects. He hadn’t said anything about it yet, but you had watched his favorite clothing got tighter until he couldn’t bear to wear it anymore.

You were acutely aware of how sensitive he would be with such a dramatic change. So, that Sunday, when you see Spencer padding out in his favorite pair of Saturday-specific sweats, you try to be kind.

“Hey handsome!” you call.

He is caught off guard enough to smile.

“What did I do to deserve you in sweats on a Sunday?”

His smile falls just as quickly. His bashfulness turns into a sadness that feels all-encompassing.

“My pants don’t fit,” he mutters as he toys with the drawstring.

“Lucky me,” you joke.

Spencer doesn’t respond like you’d hoped. In fact, he doesn’t react at all. He just stays staring at the string that is shorter than normal. He doesn’t even notice that you’re approaching him until your palms are pressed against his cheeks.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you whisper.

He winces.

“I just…”

You give him a small reassuring smile and it stirs something in him. Some small shift out of his self-preservation instinct and back into the comfort of your embrace.

“I know I’m getting older, and stress does a lot of damage, and that can always manifest as weight gain,” he rambles.

He leaves out the medicated nature of it all, but you don’t bother to correct him. You just listen as he continues.

“But my body’s never been like this. It’s never changed like this, even during puberty,” he scoffs.

You chuckle at the sound and the image conjured up from faded scrapbook pictures.

Spencer smiles too—just for a second—before he remembers that he is sad.

“It’s just… it’s happening so… fast,” he says like a whimper.

After a moment, you shrug. He seems almost offended by the motion until you explain.

“That’s okay, Spencer,” you whisper, “It’s okay if you have a hard time adjusting to change.”

His shoulders fall as he releases a shaky breath. Relief starts to creep back into his body, despite his fingers still twiddling with the string.

You look down at it and laugh because it is so much like how he used to be. A little bit better, even.

“You just need to remind yourself that… They’re good changes,” you insist as your hands fall and glide around his waist. It’s soft and pliant and reminds you of the peace you find when you lay in bed together.  You remember the smile he wore the first day he woke up without fearing the sound of a buzzer. You think about how he doesn’t seem afraid of his phone anymore.

When you look back up at him, your eyes linger on the subtle curve of his lips before they settle on teary eyes.

“You’re finally taking care of yourself the way you deserve, so things are going to look different,” you whisper before pulling him closer. You sway with his body, still perfectly him despite not looking exactly the same.  “And for what it’s worth, I happen to think you look wonderful.”

Spencer drops the string to hold you, instead. He chuckles, a soft and bashful noise that reminds you of the first time you met.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he sighs in defeat.

To console him, you provide another simple offering.

“Sweatpants, donuts, coffee full of sugar and syrup,” you hum, “I don’t know about you, but… I can get used to a life like that.”

“They’re nice, but…” he trails off. His body pulls away so that he can see that loving look in your eyes. The last bit of tension releases from weary muscles. Spencer gently rests his palm against your cheek. It’s warm and soft and exactly like it used to be before the scars.

“Of all of life’s pleasures,” he wonders aloud, “I still think you’re my favorite.”

You quickly note the conditional word.

“You think?”

This time when he smiles, it is brilliant and not at all bashful.

“Donuts are pretty good,” he jokes.

It’s such a beautiful sound that you don’t even have to wonder.

“You’re better,” you mumble against still-sweet lips.

And it only gets better from there.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

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[warping-realities]

Bed and Breakfast

"I can't believe you're going to make me stay in a place like that." Said the beautiful woman with an arrogant tone towards her companion. Without realizing that she was being heard by the owner of the small and cozy coastal inn.

"Babe, calm down, the place is really nice and seems to be very comfortable. And it's highly rated on travel sites. We'll be lucky if there's room for us here."

"We wouldn't have to go through this if you had booked a hotel in advance."

"Laura, love. You decided on a trip to a fashionable place at the last minute during high season, there was no vacancy and yet you insisted on coming."

"Of course, everyone important is here, what do you think my followers would say if I didn't come. An influencer has to be aware of all the trends, Jeremy and this is the place of the moment, only God knows why." Laura replied, making her boyfriend let out a sigh before being prevented from responding by a cheerful and jovial voice.

"Good night, I'm Cintia, owner of Cozy Cabin, welcome, how can I help you?"

"Good evening, ma'am. My name is Jeremy Grant, and this is my fiancée, Laura. We are looking for accommodation."

"Oh dear! I'm sorry, but we're all booked up, reservations have been closed for over two months, we've become a very popular place lately." The woman of indecipherable age responded, because at the same time that she showed signs of age, she had an aura of joy and youth around her, at that moment tainted by a genuine tone of sadness at not being able to help. Which turned into indignation and anger when the young, pretty blonde woman in front of him let out a dismissive giggle followed by a howl of reproach towards her fiancé. However, before Cintia could say anything, Jeremy quickly intervened.

"Isn't there really the slightest possibility Cintia? It would only be for one day so that Laura can take some photos and post them, she is a digital influencer."

"Really? I've never heard of you darling." Cintia said, taking advantage of the moment to repay the young woman's rudeness, who in turn couldn't stand to remain silent.

"I work with a young audience, it's understandable if someone your age doesn't know me." Laura replied, causing Jeremy to have a mortified expression and a dangerous glint to appear in Cintia's eyes.

"Ah, believe me, I know how to recognize an influencer with an impact, right now we are hosting Miguel Ramos, the famous fitness influencer, it is already the fifth year that he has visited us at this time. Which gives me a wonderful idea to solve the your problem. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll be back with news soon."

"Stupid rag" Laura commented bitterly as soon as Cintia left the room.

"Baby, you provoked..."

"Don't stand against me, Jeremy. How she dare, compare me to that fairy Miguel Ramos!"

"Laura, be careful what you say, I've heard a lot about Miguel Ramos, he was already a very respected Personal Trainer before becoming a popular fitness influencer and has a good follower base."

That was a huge understatement and they both knew it. While Laura's number of followers had not yet reached hundreds of thousands, Miguel's already surpassed the million barrier. And of course the vain woman didn't like being reminded of that and soon found a reason to tease her fiancé.

"Jeremy, that stubble of yours looks horrible, how many times have I told you to keep your face smooth! My followers prefer you to complement my look!"

Jeremy didn't know if that was true, Laura's followers really praised how much they complemented each other in appearance. But he couldn't help but occasionally wonder if the fact that Laura made him wear clothes in a similar style to hers, coupled with her insistence on keeping a smooth face and his blond hair in neat curls, resembled hers to the point where some people thinking that they were brothers and not a couple was a proof of a totally narcissistic nature as the class's detractors insisted on shouting. However, every time those thoughts arose, Jeremy quickly suppressed them, he had long ago accepted that he would be nobody without his girlfriend, to the point of giving up his career as a physical educator to follow her, ensuring all her wishes and canceling himself in every way. Because he was completely sure that he was not worthy of her love and that no one in the world would be able to love him like she did. It was precisely because he thought all of this that when he saw Cintia return with a look of satisfaction on her aged face, he responded calmly.

"Yes, love, that's the first thing I'll do as soon as we get to our room.”

"My dears, I found a solution, it's not perfect but it should help for today." Cintia began with a playful smile and that sparkle in her eyes. "We have a few rooms with extra beds that are not being occupied and two of our guests have kindly provided those beds to you for a couple of nights. In two days Mrs. Goldschmitt will return home and her room will be free if you wish." extend your stay."

"You mean you want us to stay in separate rooms?" Laura asked indignantly.

"It was the best I could do, dear. Of course, if it doesn't suit you, feel free to leave and look for accommodation elsewhere." Cintia replied with an icy smile.

"No, no, it's great, we accept!" Jeremy quickly interrupted, wanting to avoid more conflicts and the loss of the only stay they found.

"Great! Please follow me, then I'll ask one of the assistants to take your bags to your respective rooms." Cintia replied, looking genuinely pleased as she led them down a hallway and a flight of stairs to the first room and knocked on the door, which was promptly opened by a handsome Latino man in his thirties, with developed muscles detailed by a fitted white t-shirt and a friendly smile in his handsome bearded face.

"Goodnight." He said simply with a voice exuding masculinity.

"Miguel, dear. These are Jeremy and Lau..."

"You don't need to introduce me, I'm sure Miguel knows who I am." interrupted Laura while Miguel stared at her as if she were a creature that had jumped in front of him.”

"Laura... apparently she's a digital influencer." Cintia continued as if she had not been rudely interrupted. "Jeremy and Laura, this is Miguel Ramos who we talked about earlier and who kindly agreed to give Jeremy the extra bed in his room."

"Thank you for the lovely introduction Cintia and it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person Laura and you too Jer..." Miguel began, also being interrupted by Laura.

"I think our followers would love a collaboration from us."

"Um, sure, we can discuss this tomorrow, Laura. I believe you are both exhausted now and Cintia still has to take you to your room."

"Yes, yes, you're right, we'll arrange everything tomorrow. Shall we go then?" Laura ended talking to Cintia without even saying goodbye to Jeremy, who in turn approached his girlfriend and kissed her on the cheek.

"Good night love, sleep well!" - He said before entering the room and seeing his fiancée being taken by Cintia inside the building.

.....

"Welcome Jeremy, unfortunately you'll have to take the single bed."

"Thank you Miguel, you didn't need to do that or pretend to know Laura."

"Ahh, I'm sorry about that, but I thought it was better, I know how hurt some influencers can be by not being recognized, I've never particularly cared about that, but I've seen some uncomfortable situations to say the least. And as for the bed, It's just a bed, I'm not really using it and Cintia asked me for a favor, she's a great friend and was a lot of help when... anyway, you are welcome here.”

"Still, you didn't have to do any of that, thank you very much." Jeremy replied as he prepared to sleep, thinking about what Miguel had left to say. It was nothing new that his breakup with his long-time boyfriend, a famous film actor, had been very traumatic, so much so that he had remained out of the spotlight for several months until he was photographed on the beach close to where they were, which is why the interest in place had lit up. The only news there was knowing that he will not be staying in a luxurious hotel but in Cintia's small and cozy inn. Laura should be happy, Jeremy thought before falling asleep, she had gone to look for copper and apparently she had found gold.

Already lying in the single bed, Jeremy found the courage to say something else.

"Miguel, thank you really, I'm very grateful for your kindness... but... well... I apologize in advance if Laura expresses... um... any dissatisfaction with the accommodation arrangements... she's used to get what she wants and... well... there might be some kind of... jealousy... so..."

"She doesn't need to worry Jeremy, I'm not into man skinnier , smaller and younger than me." Miguel responded in a joking tone but causing Jeremy to immediately recoil.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't offend me Jeremy, I was just joking, you can rest assured, in fact feel free in the room, as far as I'm concerned the room is as much yours as mine. Have a good night.”

…..

The morning sun invaded the inn's bedroom, causing Jeremy to turn over in bed and wake up, rubbing his eyes, being treated to a stunning image, Miguel wearing only white underwear, with his sculpted body on display, staring intently at the bedroom wall as if he was lost in reminiscences. At that moment Jeremy felt something he had never imagined he would feel when seeing another man, a pang of desire, accompanied by a familiar sensation in his dick that he only associated with when he saw the image of Laura in her naked beauty. His surprise at that was so great that he moved abruptly, causing Miguel to wake up from his reverie.

"Good morning, I'm sorry if I woke you up, I forgot to close the curtains last night."

"No problem." Jeremy replied, hiding his erection with a pillow.

"Anyway, I'm already on my way out, going for my morning run before breakfast."

“Oh man, I miss doing that!” Commented Jeremy.

"Do you have this habit too?"

"Yes, I was a physical educator just like you, but since I started following Laura... she's not a morning person and gets upset when I wake her up early... anyway, I've been running on the treadmill while she makes the videos her at the gym."

"If you want to train with me..."

"Nah, man, thanks, but no. I'm going to rest a little longer" Jeremy replied, still hiding his erection.

"Then I'll see you later. Sweet dreams." Said an already fully dressed Miguel leaving the room and Jeremy alone with his disconcerting thoughts.

…….

To say that the trip had been a disppointment to Laura would be a huge understatement. First Jeremy hadn't been able to make a simple reservation and even had the nerve to blame her when he should have been able to foresee this kind of thing, then there was the beach itself, she had never liked sun and sea, and only Thinking about sand made her skin itch, but unfortunately, thanks to Miguel Ramos' stellar divorce and his apparent bad taste, that little beach was the star's hot spot for the summer. Ending up in the same inn as him could be a golden opportunity, but for that she had to put up with the arrogant old woman who owned the place, the fact that her fiancé was sleeping in the same room as that fagot and the annoying roommate she that she was sure it had been chosen by the old ghoul with the only intention of irritating her. And it was with a look that reflected her inner bitterness that she waited for her fiance to appear for breakfast, which made her even more indignant, as she was not used to wait and at the same time she refused to call him. After all he should know his place and his duties!

It was with that sour face that Miguel found her after taking a shower and getting dressed as quietly as possible to avoid waking the still sleeping Jeremy. Upon seeing that expression, he seriously thought about escaping from the breakfast room without being seen, especially since he hadn't had a good initial impression of Laura, which was confirmed when he saw the type of content she produced, with Jeremy appearing as more of an accessory to her outfit than as a real boyfriend, which raised the suspicion that perhaps the other man was trapped in the type of abusive relationship that he himself had lived in until recently. But before he had time to escape, their eyes met and a practiced smile appeared on her face without reaching her predatory eyes. Knowing that game very well, Miguel plastered a smile as fake as hers on his own face and approached her table.

"Good morning, Miguel, I hope Jeremy's snoring wasn't disturbing." Laura said, starting the conversation in the worst possible way and making the smile disappear on Miguel's face.

"On the contrary, it didn't bother me at all, Noah snored a lot more." He replied, making a look of irritation momentarily cross Laura's face due to the comparison with his ex-husband. Wasn't it enough that her boyfriend was sleeping in the same room as him?

"You're very kind, but it's my fiancé you're talking about, no one knows him like I do."

"Of course, and if you allow me to say, seeing your posts on social media is possible to see all your influence on him." Miguel replied, barely hiding the sarcasm in his voice.

"Thank you. It was hard work." Laura responded in turn without realizing the criticism embedded in his comment. "Speaking of work, when are we going to do our collaboration?" She concludes.

"We'll certainly find a way." He responded in turn, knowing that as far as he was concerned, that would never happen. "If you'll excuse me now I have an appointment. Maybe you should check on Jeremy, when I left the room he was sound asleep. It seemed to me like he hadn't slept so well in a long time." He concludes with a bright and genuine smile before leaving the room, turning his back on a fuming Laura.

Although Miguel's statement was intended to provoke Laura, that was not far from the truth. Jeremy had slept as well as ever and didn't even wake up when Miguel returned to the room and got ready for breakfast. If he had woken up he would have been mortified, because in his sleep he ended up ripping off his pajama shirt, and without realizing it, he reached for his erection that had returned along with Miguel's presence in the room, while his mind filled itself. one of the most different and vivid dreams he had ever had. In the dream he found himself lying completely naked on a beach not very different from the one where the inn was located, and with the sun bathing his body a beautiful blonde woman approached and began kissing his naked body, he couldn't tell if was it Laura or not, because each kiss given in the dream made him feel an immeasurable ecstasy, strong enough to cover up any sense other than pleasure, so much so that he only realized that the figure in the dream had changed, becoming a muscular man and bearded with his dark body shining with sweat in the morning sun a few seconds before he was awakened by the indignant voice of his fiancée.

"Jeremy, so this is what you were doing instead of meeting me for breakfast? Masturbating in that queer's room? How disgusting!"

Said an indignant Laura when she found her boyfriend in that position. Jeremy, taken by surprise in turn, responded without thinking

"Never use that kind of word in my presence again Laura, if there's anything disgusting it's those expressions!"

"Jeremy, how dare you correct me! Disguting yes, and even more disgusting are the habits of these fagots, but apparently you're already quite used to it, right, jacking off in one of their bedrooms. And you didn't even shave that disgusting beard. As if not If you just cut your hair without talking to me, I'm at my limit!" She barked back, causing all the layers of inhibition to return to a now more awake Jeremy.

"I'm sorry, babe, I shouldn't have talked to you like that. Give me a few minutes to get ready and we can have breakfast together." He said, returning to his servile habits as he struggled to understand what she meant about his beard and hair.

"Well, you can have your breakfast alone. And you don't even need to come with me to the beach, I'll take Kayla to help me. Make the most of your day without my presence!" She replied angrily, leaving the room and a confused and still sleepy Jeremy behind.

He in turn stood up and stretched, losing his balance a little as he felt the strange sensation that he seemed to be a good few inches taller, which he knew was nonsense, since no one grows overnight other than the fact that that he had had that height since the beginning of his adult life, which had helped him in many volleyball and basketball games when he was younger. Other activities that he missed but couldn't find time in his day to practice. He had never resented Laura for these things, but deep down he couldn't help but feel an irritation at having given up virtually all of his interests for hers. Shaking his head in an attempt to get those intrusive thoughts out of him, he went to the bathroom and took a long shower, knowing that there was no point in looking for his girlfriend while she was in that mood, that poor Kayla, whoever she was, who would have to put up with Laura for that morning, he thought with uncharacteristic sarcasm as he soaped the six blocks set on his abdomen, this time without trying to shake that thought away. After getting out of the shower he looked at himself in the mirror, for someone who could no longer follow a strict exercise routine he looked very good, he was slim but defined and his short beard accentuated the angles of his face, framed by golden curls in a medium lenght haircut.

Maybe it was time for Laura to learn to better appreciate the boyfriend she had, he thought, leaving the bathroom without shaving, before changing and getting ready to enjoy a morning of sun and sea without Laura's constant complaints and orders, which without a doubt it was the best thing that could have happened, said a new invasive thought that once again did not go away.

……..

Jeremy wandered along the seawall for several minutes, feeling the sand beneath his feet, the scent of the sea breeze filling his lungs and the sun's rays bathing his fair skin, even though he knew he risked getting burned, it was too good for him let it go. After wandering for a long time he sat down on the beach and simply let himself be invaded by it all, with a wave of peace and completeness filling him. Without realizing that the longer he stayed there, the less white his skin became, turning to a golden summer tone, at the same time that his muscles expanded slightly, leaving him with the appearance of someone who trained frequently and carefully.

And there he would have continued without noticing the changes if he hadn't been interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Hey, roomie, watch out for a burn on your skin!"

Opening his eyes Jeremy found himself staring at Miguel in all his glory, with a happy smile plastered on his face.

"I may not have your Latin genes, Miguel. But it's been a long time since I've been burned!" He replied, smiling, as that strange feeling invaded him again.

"Still, the sun around here is much stronger than what you're used to. Let me help you." Miguel replied, approaching with a tube of sunscreen in his hands. "That is, if you don't mind."

Jeremy did care, not because of any prejudice, but because of the fear of what that closeness would make him feel, not to mention the erection that threatened to return. But at the same time he couldn't resist that proposal.

"No problem, I think you're exaggerating, but Laura will be unbearable if I burn myself, she already doesn't like my skin being so tanned."

"What nonsense, your skin is beautiful, that tan contrasts very well with your blonde hair, it gives you a healthy look, especially with those defined muscles."

"Thanks man, it's nice to hear a compliment from... hummm”. He groaned when he felt the other man's strong hands massaging his back.

"Something wrong?" Miguel asked.

"No... no... it's just that the sunscreen was cold."

"Ah, I'm done. Just a little more down here." Miguel said with his hands approaching Jeremy's buttocks and making him contract all over.

"Okay, do you want me to apply it in your front?"

"No, you don't need to, I'll do it myself." Jeremy quickly responded, taking the cock from Miguel's hand without even wanting to think about those manly hands near his cock.

"And where is Laura? I thought you helped with her content production."

Thinking about his girlfriend brought an unexpected wave of irritation to Jeremy, as if a cloud was blocking out the morning sun.

"We had an argument in the morning... in fact she did what she always does, said what she wanted and left me alone, I guess in the hope that I would go after her... but not this time... she might to fend for herself with her new friend." He responded with a certain bitterness that didn't go unnoticed by Miguel.

"Relationships can be complicated."

"Ours isn't, but I'm starting to think it's just because I'm used to canceling myself out in front of her."

Miguel, who had already noticed that, preferred not to comment anything.

"Anyway, we should see each other later and resolve this, I still love her of course, but some things will have to change in our relationship."

"So how about we do that run now, a little return to your old ways?"

"Are you sure you'll be able to keep up with me, with all this extra size and already running before..."

"Boy, respect me, I'm not one of the best known personal trainers in the world for nothing."

"Then we'll see!" Jeremy replied, getting up and running away.

……

Laura walked with disgust on the beach sand. Her morning, like the rest of that trip, had been dark. Kayla was pleasant company as she shared the same interests as her, although she was in a lower category with only a few tens of thousands of followers. Still, she expected Laura to return the favors she did by asking her to take photos and record videos of her. Simply unbearable. And it was all Jeremy's fault, obviously. She still couldn't believe that her worthless boyfriend hadn't come looking for her and even worse for the second time that day it was she who was forced to look for him in the middle of that damned sand.

It was with this feeling that she watched two muscular men running from the edge of the beach towards the sea while laughing loudly and then diving. A ridiculous and childish behavior in her opinion. So what was her surprise when she saw that one of those men, the tanned blonde with a haircut made up of a pompadour and a side fade, accompanied by a full beard just as blonde, smile and approach her with his tanned muscular body still moist from the sea water shining in the midday sun.

"Hey babe, how was the morning?"

"Jeremy, how dare you leave me like that! And that beard, you said you were going to trim it! And your hair??? What nonsense is this?"

"No nonsense Laura. They look the way I like!"

"But not in the way my followers and I expected! You're almost bald! That tan and those excessive muscles weren't enough!"

"Don't exaggerate Laura, and if I decide to shave all my hair I will. Your followers have nothing to do with how I decide to cut my hair or my beard."

"Of course it has to do with it, you're my boyfriend, you influence the way I'm perceived!"

"Apparently that's the only way I care about you, how I make others perceive you."

"And how would it be different, I make a living from this, I'm an influencer, and my boyfriend needs to agree with my branding."

"I'm not your accessory, Laura."

"Well, my dear, in the end it's as if you were!"

"So I don't know if I still want to continue this relationship." He replied, turning his back on an angry Laura.

"Jeremy! Don't you dare! Jeremyyyy....!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, but he didn't turn around and walked aimlessly towards the other side of the beach, followed by the watchful eye of Miguel Ramos.

…..

Jeremy wandered the beach for several minutes trying to calm the influx of thoughts. He was torn by the despair of losing the woman he believed he loved and the growing feeling of contempt for that same woman. How could he cancel himself out for so long, how could he not see who she was? And at the same time she had been his life for the last few years, how could he live without her? He certainly wouldn't be capable of that! Deciding to run back after her and humble himself by her forgiveness, he started running. Only stopping when he heard the voice did he start to associate that strange feeling, mixed with desire and comfort.

"Hey, Big Guy, what's the rush?" Asked a smiling Miguel sitting on a bench in a beach bar.

"Sorry Miguel, I need to find Laura!"

"And what would be the point of talking to her with a hot head, wait for you two to calm down."

"You do not understand!"

"Ah, I understand. I understand so much that I'm going to offer you the two things you need most right now, company and a few shots of Tequila!"

"I do not know dude..."

"Relax man and follow me." Miguel said, taking Jeremy by the arms and taking him to a table in the bar.

…..

"I shouldn't interfere in your relationship with your girlfriend. But I recently went through a complicated divorce. And the truth is that it took me a long time to realize that I was in an abusive relationship." - Miguel said to a saddened Jeremy.

"I'm not in a relationship like that, I love Laura." Jeremy replied, but with less conviction than he wanted to make it seem.

"And does she respond to this love? She loves you the same way you love her."

"It is clear..."

"Really? Be honest with yourself if you don't want to be honest with someone you barely know."

"I want to believe so, but..."

"But you have doubts. Let me propose a little game, I'm going to ask you some questions about relationships and for every positive answer from you and me we'll drink a shot of tequila, I bet you that we'll drain a bottle with ease.

"First question. Have you ever felt that you were giving much more of yourself to this relationship than your partner?"

The two took a shot and although neither of them noticed, the tan on Jeremy's skin deepened, reaching a caramel tone very close to Miguel's.

"Second question: Have you ever felt diminished by your partner?"

Another shot for both. And now Jeremy's height has increased making him several inches taller than Miguel.

"Third question: have you ever felt that you are nothing more than an accessory to your partner, that he doesn't even see you as a person but as an object?"

Another shot. Another change. Jeremy's muscles expanded, surpassing the size of Miguel's and reaching the proportions of an amateur bodybuilder. The bottle was already half full, but both men, who were not small, were already quite upset, as that level of drinking was not part of either of their habits.

"One more... one more..." A drunken Miguel said, looking extremely distorted in Jeremy's vision. "Have you ever felt like you're in this relationship out of fear... afraid that you're not good enough... that you can't be loved by someone else... and that your partner takes advantage of that to keep you stuck with them?

Another shot and Jeremy's already blurred vision began to swirl as a feeling of anxiety took over him for finally admitting those truths even while drunk. Miguel was spinning in front of him, and he felt an immense desire to get up and run away, but as he did so he fell to the ground.

"Jeremy, Jeremy..." He heard the voice in the distance, that voice, which awakened so many feelings in him. "Jeremy..." A voice that made him realize that he could still desire and be desired... "Jer...." The voice that made him excited just by hearing it. "Jav..." The voice of the man he was in love with but couldn't admit."

"Javier, get up, is everything okay?"

And Javier stood up amid laughter.

"It's all right Miguel, it was just bad form, it takes a lot more than a shot of tequila to take down a man my size." Replied a smiling Javier Garcia, sitting at the table again. At the same time he ran his hands through his long, glossy black beard.

"Let me ask the question now." Javier said, smiling wider. "Do you think you're ready to leave this relationship behind and move on to better opportunities?"

One more shot for both.

…..

Javier lay down on the cramped single bed in the room he shared with Miguel, feeling his head spinning. While the roommate spent non-productive time feeling the same thing sitting on the toilet. As he tried hard not to spill everything he had eaten that day, he felt his cell phone vibrate. When he looked at the screen he noticed that there were hundreds of messages and calls from an unknown number. Choosing to deal with it when he was in better condition, he closed his eyes again and thus did not see each of those messages and calls disappear from the records.

With his head still spinning he fell into a restless sleep filled with rapidly changing dreams, until again he dreamed of that thin, beautiful blonde woman. In the dream she lay down on him again and began kissing his naked body, but without provoking any reaction in him, nothing, no excitement, no pleasure, until once again the smooth woman's skin gave way to that rough sensation of a beard shaving the skin. his body and then it was Miguel who kissed him, rekindling the flame of desire within him. As he slept he moaned with excitement, with a powerful erection between his legs, until he finally woke up feeling Miguel's real mouth wrap around his engorged cock. Trapped in that feeling of pleasure, he pulled the other man closer to him, being invaded by the no longer strange sensation of real desire.

After hours of wild sex, Javier got up from the only bed in that room, a King Size bed reinforced to support the weight of two athletes. Stretching, he stopped to admire the muscular body of a professional bodybuilder in the bedroom mirror.

Every fiber of his body was worked with the utmost dedication and commitment, and soon he would be on stage to put all that work to the test. He ran his hand through his shaved hair and finished the movement with his long, soft beard. He knew he would have to shave it before the performance but he was reluctant because Miguel liked him too much that way. Speak of the devil, Miguel at that moment repositioned himself on the bed and watched Javier look at himself in the mirror.

"A penny for your thoughts." Said the smaller and younger man but who had still won the position of his coach along Javier's heart.

"It's no big deal, Mig, I was just looking in the mirror and thinking it's a shame to have to shave, you like it so much..."

"Javi, I want you with or without a beard, I don't care how you present yourself, I care about being with you."

"So you mean if I were smaller and thinner you'd still be with me?"

"Maybe you wouldn't have caught my attention at first sight, but like I said, I care about the person you are, the man I fell in love with and if he loses weight or gains weight that won't change."

"Thanks, babe. That's really good to hear." Javier replied, going to the bathroom.

"Where are you going, are you going to shave now?"

"I thought you didn't care about my beard."

"I don't mind, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy it a little more and you a little of this" Miguel replied, lifting the covers and revealing his huge hardened cock and making a big smile spread across Javier's face.

……

The afternoon sun shone like never before, but even that didn't seem to light up Laura's life as she gossiped with Kayla in the bar by the sea, while they discreetly watched Miguel and Javier talk.

"Is this a good time? They seem to be arguing." Asked Kayla to her colleague.

"Just because they're serious doesn't mean they're fighting. If we take into account their social networks, they're living wonderfully." Laura replied.

"You know as well as I do how deceiving social media can be."

"Still, this is our chance to collaborate with them, it's not every day that we get to work together with two of the biggest fitness influencers in the world."

"Smile, they're looking this way!" Said Kayla, making both of them give identical fake smiles, returned by a nod from the fitness couple of the year, who then got up, put on their tank tops and headed towards the beach.

"There goes our chance." Laura grumbled.

"Don't worry my dear, people like you always get what they deserve." Said a smiling Cintia who was passing by before positioning herself at the bar counter and smiling.

A smile that widened when she saw Miguel and Javier together on the beach sharing a passionate kiss. If there was something she was proud of, it was a job well done and at her inn that meant much more than just bed and breakfast.

[kinkyrafe]

Please and Thank you

Kinktober, October 02

THIS WORK IS 18+ ! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary:

You and Rafe have recently started hooking up for some intense fun. You both enjoy every second of it, but Rafe sometimes needs a little reminder to mind his manners - which you don’t mind giving at all. Or: The one where Rafe is pegged and teased.

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, domme!reader, sub!rafe, very explicit

biggest thank you for beta-ing this at the very short notice goes to @nemesyaaa

taglist: @yagirlwrites @audzss @valyrianflower @aariahnaa

Read on AO3

Rafe is kneeling in front of the bed as he eyes the toys in front of you. 

“That is going inside me?” He can’t help but ask incredulously.

It’s not a huge dildo per se but it is bigger than the plugs and massagers that the two of you usually use.

You raise your eyebrows and look at him sternly. This alone suffices to silence him and make him avert his eyes but you decide to remind him verbally as well. 

“Manners, Rafe,” you scold.

Then you step in between his wide legs, put two fingers underneath his chin and tilt his chin upwards until his throat is stretched and he looks at you. “You’ll take what I give you,” you remind him slowly, “and you will beg me for it, and once it’s in you, you will thank me for it.”

You can see as much as you can feel him swallow. His gaze flickers around the room.

You can't grab his chin tightly and you can't slap him across the face as you normally would do to a sub in this instance but those are huge triggers for Rafe, so you quickly decide to use your foot to press against his crotch instead. Not hard enough to hurt but the implication is clear and it makes him look at you. “How about a ‘yes, mistress?’” You ask from above and repeat what you said before to give him another chance. “You’ll take what I give you, and you will thank me for it. And if I want you to beg, then you will beg. Do you understand?” You look down at him, expectantly. 

There's a hint of challenge and mischief in his eyes. “Yes, mistress,” he answers quickly this time.

You nod as you release his chin and take your foot from his crotch.

You direct him onto his hands and knees, taking in the willingness he shows to obey you even though he was hesitant only moments before. The amount of trust that he shows to you nearly overwhelms you sometimes.

“I’ll prep you nice and slow, promise,” you say and gently rub the palms of your hands over his ass and thighs. He shivers at your touch. “Ass out, present yourself “ you order and praise him when he obeys, “There you go, good boy. Stay there.”

You give him a brief warning of the coldness before you drizzle lube over his hole. He flinches slightly nevertheless. It always makes you smirk - and you take a mental note to use ice on him at some point in the future. 

You gently rub your hand along his hole, spreading lube and caresses from his hole to his balls and back up, reveling in the fact that he presents his most intimate body parts to you just like that. It isn’t new to you, not at all, not with Rafe and especially not with other people, but it still manages to astound you. To be fair, you could never. 

“Let’s get you nice and wet,” you hum as you slide in a finger. He sighs with pleasure. 

You finger him with one and then with two fingers until he starts to moan with every movement. “Does that feel good?” You tease grinning, absolutely aware of the answer no matter what he would say. His ass is clenching around your fingers - and not in a tense I want them out kind of way but in a more, faster, deeper kind of way.

This is one of the things you admire most about Rafe - the level of vulnerability he offers you simply by not holding back and showing how he loves to get his ass fucked. “So good, mistress,” he answers, his voice hoarse already. 

“What do you say when I make you feel good?” You ask.

“Thank you, mistress,” he breathes out instantly. 

You nod and spread your index and middle finger inside of him even wider so there's enough room to first drizzle more lube inside and push your index finger of your other hand in. You immediately massage his prostate with it so he feels pleasure throughout the stretch and his answering moan is almost obscene. 

His knees seem to give out momentarily and he comes out of the position you told him to stay in. “Where do you think you're going?” You ask sternly but smugly nonetheless, as his hip and ass moved away from you a little bit. You remove one hand from him to guide him back into position while the finger of the other hand presses against his prostate.

He gasps loudly as he pushes back, increasing the pressure against his prostate. “I'm sorry, mistress,” he rasps out.

“Stay in position this time,” You order as you slide the other two fingers back into him. His body reacts again but he manages to stay still this time. “Good thing you're not standing up, huh?” You ask him mischievously. 

He breathes out a laugh. “I don’t think my body would manage,” he replies.

“I'll train you, don't worry.”

His laugh stops and you hear him swallow but you can see his already hard cock twitch in answer to your statement.

You take your sweet time with him, giving him a time of his life with your fingers - completely ignoring his cock that is leaking with precome already - until he completely forgets about the dildo laying next to him.

When he nearly loses himself in the pleasure of having his ass played with, you stop. You slide out all three of your fingers , leaving him empty. 

He whines at the feeling, his breathing fast and shallow with pleasure.

He doesn't stay empty for long as you immediately grab a plug - not thick but long, just as the dildo he's so afraid of - slick it up with a good amount of lube and push it in.

He flinches a bit with surprise when you line it up with his hole and push it in just like that. He flinches again when it fully settles into him - as you said, it's pretty long and he's not used to it - but he takes it more than willingly.

You give him a couple of seconds before you swat him across the ass. “What do you say when I put something in you?”

“Thank you, mistress,” he says immediately. 

Then he looks back to see you grabbing the strapon. “Eyes to the front,” you order when you find him staring uncomfortably at the dildo you've picked out for him, “We'll have fun, don’t worry.”

You don't pull the strapon up just yet. It's one of the double strap-ons where one dildo also goes inside of you and while he still looks a bit uncomfortable, you almost cannot handle your excitement.

You can't touch your vulva with the fingers that have just been inside of him but you know it's wet. You're super turned on since the moment Rafe knelt for you, so the wetness doesn't come as a surprise. 

You move around him until you’re kneeling on the bed in front of him. 

“Sit up,” you instruct simply as you spread your legs wide, “I want you to finger me and put this-” You point at the dildo that would go into you, “- into me.”

He swallows, eyes wide. As of now, it's not often yet that you allow him to touch you.

You make him sit back on his heels - which adjusts the plug inside of him deliciously - before you move until your legs frame one of his thighs. You stay like that, your thighs in the air, not sitting back yourself. This way for one, he has better access to your vagina and for the other, you still can look  down on him and create physical hierarchy. 

“Touch me,” you instruct him, “See how wet you've made me.” 

His breath hitches as he does. “Thank you mistress,” he rasps.

“Good boy,” you praise him, your voice breathier than usual as you feel his fingers rub along your vulva. “Show me what you can do with these beautiful hands of yours,” you instruct.

You know he's good at it. You let him finger you before and it was awesome every single time. He seems to know exactly what you like and just like the other times, this time it doesn't take long at all until he has you coming for the first time today. The powers of this man…

“Such a good boy,” you praise as you ride out the orgasm on his long fingers.

Once you've come down a bit and your breathing evens out, you pull up the straps. “Put some lube on it and help me put it in.”

He swallows. He is rock hard as he rubs lube first over the smaller dildo of the two and then over your vulva. “Can’t I put something else in you?” He asks smugly.

You grin and flick his nipple for his trouble. “And how would I fuck you at the same time.”

 “You already put a big-ass plug-” he starts but you put your hand over his mouth. 

“Stop arguing,” you instruct immediately, “And put the dildo in me right now.”

He swallows and does as you ask. 

It feels wonderful to have something inside of you that you feel with your every move. Something that you can clench on when you feel like it.

You fasten the straps tightly before you make your way back behind him and make him bend over again. “Hands and knees,” you instruct, “And you'll take it without moving out of the position. No moving away from me, do you understand?”

“Yes, mistress.”

At that, pull out the plug, lube up the dildo and his hole generously and line up the dildo, the tip already pushing in a little. 

“How about you show me how much you need it?” You tease him as you pulsate your hips a little bit to increase the pressure on his hole.

“I don’t really need it at all,” he answers incredibly smugly and that’s enough. This brat.

You thrust your hips forward and push it in halfway in one go.

The sound he makes can only be described as a roar. Then he groans with displeasure. 

“You deserved that, didn’t you?” You ask sweetly. 

He makes another sound that could both mean agreement or disagreement.

You keep your hips steady so he can bottom out but you spank his ass twice. The smaller dildo inside you makes you wanna fuck him right away, just because you know you’ll get something out of it as well, but with this, you know, you have to control yourself.

“Did or did you not deserve it?” You ask instead.

He breathes out heavily. “I did, mistress.” You nod appreciatively.

“Yes, you did,” you say softly.

You rub your hands softly all over his body. It's such a beautiful body. Beautiful for sure is the right word for it. Rafe is a man for whom handsome just doesn’t cover it. You rub your hands over his ass, over his thighs, over his back. Nothing helps to make him relax a tiny bit.

At first, you think about checking in with him, maybe changing position, but then you decide to remain persistent for a bit longer. 

“Maybe it's best if you start to relax now, so I can finally move, otherwise I'm gonna help you relax your ass with a spanking.” You back up your statement with a smack on his ass cheek.

He groans again. “Always so strict,” he mumbles, but you can almost see the muscles in his back loosen a little bit. That’s a start. You want him in full sub space, though.

“Mh,” you hum, “Just how you need it.” You try to push in further and he is more relaxed now but not by much.

“Just take it, babe,” you tell him and let your finger caress over his half-hard cock. “Just embrace it. Accept your place and let me fuck you into the mattress until you feel so good. Come on. The more you submit, the more you get rewarded.”

That seems to have done the trick. As you push only a little, the dildo slides in more willingly now. “There you go,” you praise immediately as your hip points finally touch Rafe’s ass. The dildo is all the way in now, finally. 

He makes soft little noises. "It’s so big," he whimpers.

"It's really not,” you tell him as you slowly pull out almost all the way before guiding it back in, “Stay still and take it." You pull out again and push back in again, a little faster this time. You can feel the thrust inside of you as well.

You can see that Rafe is having trouble staying in position. “Drop to your forearms,” you order to make it a little easier on him.

He does and he gasps loudly at the change in angle. 

“It's uh… uh… it's… Y/N, mistress,” Rafe rasps.

“Yes, babe?” You ask teasingly.

"It's too big!" He whimpers and comes back up onto his hands. 

"Aww, no, it's not, baby. It's been in you before. You even came on it before and you will come on it again!"

His answer is a loud groan. 

You decide to make it both easier and more intense for him. “Put that leg forward,” you instruct and tap on his left knee so you can guide it in between his hands. Splitting the legs like this makes it easier to slide the dildo in but at the same time, it goes in deeper. Your smile is devilish.

He moans loudly when you push in fully for the first time, reaching a point inside of him that probably no one has ever reached. You slide in easily, no resistance whatsoever. He's finally fully relaxed. 

"Look at that!”, you exclaim with pride as his hole relaxes and seems to nearly swallow the dildo. “Your body wants it, even if you say otherwise."

He doesn’t respond but just lets you have your way with him. 

You start fucking him more fluently now, establishing a steady rhythm in which you thrust into him as deeply as you can. It’s more than just sliding in and out of him. You actively thrust your hips forward - this way it is even more intense for him but you yourself feel more at the same time. 

You change the angle a little so that you brush his sweet spot with every push.

When you hit it the first and immediately after the second time, he starts to scream. “Ah, mistress, it's too much,” he cries, “It's too much!"

You put a hand on the small of his back to prevent him from getting up. “You can take it baby, I know you can,” you remind him calmly.

He shakes his head. “I can’t, no, mistress, I really can’t.”

This makes you pause. “Safeword or I'll continue,” you say strictly.

He whimpers but he doesn't say anything else.

“What’s your color, Rafe?” you follow up urgently. 

“Green, mistress,” he murmurs. 

A smile spreads across your face. You can’t bite back a comment. “Thought so,” you tease as you push in your strap on, “Now, stop the whining and let yourself enjoy it.”

You take a magic wand to his teint where you can additionally stimulate his prostate from the outside while you fuck your strap into him. His cock is rock hard again, completely neglected for now, but leaking streaks of precome never the less.

You continue hitting his prostate on the inside and massaging it on the outside. This way, you continue to make him scream. 

Your part of the strap-on feels absolutely amazing inside of you as well and make a promise to yourself to use it much more often, even though it probably won’t be Rafe’s favorite toy. It doesn’t take you long to be very close to cuming yourself, already so turned on by the scene and by this beautiful, whiny boy in front of you, but you make yourself last as long as you can before you take the magic wand between your legs from behind and add vibrations to the dildo inside of you. You thrust harder now, trying to make yourself cum, “Stay right there!” you instruct Rafe so you can use him as counterpressure for the strap-on and then you are cuming with a shout and stuttering hips.

So, so good.

“Good boy,” you praise him as you're coming down from your orgasm again. “Made me cum again just by letting himself be fucked.”

Rafe groans and you figure, he has finally earned a real treat. You bring the magic wand to his balls again and this time you just concentrate on giving him the ultimate pleasure, fucking him and simultaneously stimulating every erotic zone of his body - his dick, his balls and his prostate, first and foremost. Rafe’s screaming and shouting and moaning only intensifies when you take your other free hand to his cock and start to stroke it in rhythm with your thrusts.

By the time you have finally fucked him speechless, you are close to cuming a second time as well. You quickly decide to put him first now as he probably won’t take another round without cuming without permission and you’d rather torture him a little bit.

You know it’s time, when he speaks again. “Mistress, may I cum? Please?” It’s whiny and soft but it’s clear and it's the first coherent sentence he has uttered in a while. 

You almost give in, feeling how hard and turned on he already is but then you decide to not give in this easily. “How about you beg me for it after you've put up such a fight before?”

He whines with frustration. 

“The better you submit, the faster you get rewarded,” you remind him again and it definitely is the right thing to say. 

He gasps, drops of sweat trailing down his spine. "Please, let me cum," he whimpers, the words almost broken. "I can’t take it anymore. Please, Mistress, please." He stops begging after that.

“Oh no, Rafe,” you scold him, turn off the magic wand and spank him again, while you keep thrusting steadily into him, “You can do better than that—come on, beg like you really mean it.”

He whines but takes a deep breath in and starts begging again. “I… I’ll do anything, anything you want, just—please, Mistress, I’m begging you!" His voice cracked, raw and frantic, every word dripping with desperation as you finally have him exactly where you want him. "I can’t take it anymore… I need to cum so badly. Please, I’ll be good, I’ll be perfect… please, Mistress, just let me cum, please! I’m begging you, Mistress.” He is basically sobbing now, his voice barely holding together, probably humiliated by how far gone he was, but unable to stop either way. “Please, I can’t breathe, I need it… I’ll do anything to be good for you, I’ll take whatever you want, just please, please let me cum.” His entire body shook, trembling with the effort of holding back.

“There you go, good boy,” you praise and decide to not let him off the hook just yet, “How about you thank me for putting up with your behavior.”

He whines again before he takes a deep breath in and does as he’s told. “Thank you so much for fucking me so good, Mistress. I know, I put up a fight before and I shouldn’t have. It feels so good now. I’ll always take everything however you want. Just… please, I need you to… let me cum. Please, Mistress. I’m so close.”

“Close, isn’t close enough,” you tease him, turn on the magic wand again and hold it first to his prostate and then to the tip of his cock.

His whole body shudders at the feeling and he screams in surprise.

“How about that?” You ask calmly. “Are you even closer now?”

“Yes, Mistress, please,” he shouts hoarsely, “I’m so close, I can’t hold it anymore, please, let me cum, please, Mistress.” You notice that his hands have gripped the sheets tightly at one point, and his body is trembling, waiting for you to decide his fate.

“Ask nicely one more time,” you demand, pressing against a certain point of his cock to prevent the cum from shooting out.

He obeys before you even stop speaking: “Please, Mistress, may I cum?”

“Yes, you may,” you allow and it’s only a matter of seconds before he cums with a shout. He cums violently. He cums and cums and it doesn’t even seem to end. His arms and his legs begin to shake and as they almost give out, he tries to lay down on the bed. “Hold your position as you cum!” You remind him sternly as you grip his hips tightly with one free hand so you can fuck him properly through his orgasm. He tries to keep his body where it’s supposed to be and that is enough for you for now. There is another thing that irritates you, though.

“What do you say?” You ask him and as you ask it, it really rubs you the wrong way that you have to ask at all. You clearly need to train him a little bit better.

“Thank you, Mistress,” he replies immediately. So he knows what to say. He always knows. He just keeps forgetting.

“I don’t want to have to ask you over and over again,” You say and you pass the point where you should stop stimulating him as he is getting more and more sensitive. “You know exactly what to say and when to say it.”

He whines loudly, when he realizes what you are up to, and moves away from you. Apparently, whining is all he can do today.

“On your back,” you order strictly, “Quick. Now.”

And he does, without a fight. You quickly slide a pillow underneath his lower back.

“Legs up, grab your thighs with your hands,” you instruct. Your tone doesn’t leave any room for talking back. He knows not to disobey right now. His eyes are fixed on your every move. You have him how you want him in a matter of seconds.

You slide your strap-on back into him. He squirms away a little bit but quickly recovers without your instruction. “What do you say when I put something in you?” You ask him as you start to thrust into him again. 

He groans at the overstimulation. “Thank you, Mistress,” he rasps out nevertheless.

You take his spent cock back into your hand and continue to stroke it. He shouts but you ignore him. “And what do you say when I touch your cock?”

“Thank you, Mistress!” He screams, his voice high. 

You can tell that he is fighting to stay exactly how you want him and he manages despite the pain of the overstimulation. There’s a good boy.

“And what do you say when I allow you to cum?”

“Thank you, Mistress!” There are tears in his eyes now but he doesn’t safeword out, so you don’t stop. You continue to stroke his cock until it is hard again while you thrust deep inside of him. In this position you can even see the strap-on push against the muscles of his abdomen from the inside and the mere sight of it almost makes you cum again.

“That’s right, Rafe,” you praise. “You thank me immediately when I let you cum, are we clear about that?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he whines. There he is, the whiny little submissive. 

No more groaning, no more screaming, no more talking back. He can do nothing more but whine. This is all your doing.

“Good boy,” you praise him and rub your free hand over his chest. “Now let’s try that again.”

“No!” He looks up in shock. “No, Mistress, please.” He lets his head fall back down with a cry.

"You don’t get to decide when it ends,” you remind him sternly, “That’s my job. So what you’re gonna do is, you will lay there and let me fuck you until I cum again and then, if you’ve been good, I’ll allow you to cum another time as well. Are we clear?”

He swallows and hides his face under his arm but doesn’t say anything. 

You flick his ball. Hard. His whole body jolts. “Answer me, Rafe,” you demand, “Are we clear?”

“Yes, we are clear, Mistress,” he answers.

“Good,” you smile down at him, “Push through the pain, baby, come on. You know there’s nothing but pleasure on the other side.”

You know you are right and the good thing is, that he knows it, too.

#

The room is quiet now, the shared intensity still lingering in the atmosphere. His body lies limp on the bed, utterly spent, every muscle relaxed after being pushed beyond his limits. His breath is still uneven, his chest rising and falling in slow, deep waves as he tries to steady himself. His skin, still flushed from the overstimulation, glistens faintly under the dim light, soft tremors running through him as he comes down from the high.

You are right beside him, your touch featherlight as your fingertips trace soothing patterns along his torso, grounding him. 

"Well done, babe," you whisper, your voice soft and full of warmth, a stark contrast to the dominant authority she wielded just moments before. Your fingers slide into his hair, gently combing through the damp strands, and he sighs and it almost sounds like a sob as he melts into your touch.

“I’ve got you,” you murmur, your lips brushing his temple as you press a soft kiss there. "Just breathe. You're okay now, babe."

He blinks up slowly and locks eyes with you, searching for something in them that you don’t know whether or not he finds. 

After a couple of seconds, he looks away and pulls at your arm until you are lying next to him, cuddled up against his chest. 

He blinks slowly, as he looks at you, his eyelids heavy and you can’t help but cup his face in admiration and awe. 

“Did you put up a fight to be a brat and rile me up or because you really felt uncomfortable?” You ask him quietly. 

He chuckles softly and tugs you closer against himself.

“The dildo really is big and it felt like it was too big, for real, but yeah, once it went in without hurting, I loved every second of it.”

“Okay good,” you say, almost a little relieved, “I’m not too much into the whole talking back and being a bitch. I like my subs to be well-behaved so that I can spoil them properly.”

He tenses and swallows ashamedly. Your eyes go wide and you continue talking quickly before he gets the wrong impression. 

“Oh no, sorry!”, you clarify immediately, “Don’t be ashamed or anything. I loved this scene so much. Every second of it. It was perfect. I just meant… in general.”

He nods and relaxes back against you.

The two of you are quiet for a little while.

“I love when you have me so… desperate,” he swallows at the word but continues to speak anyways. His voice is softer now, as he admits, “I can’t believe, I can get like that with you,” he says it in wonder but despite his words, there are still traces of shame in his voice.

“Even the overstimulation?”  You ask carefully.

He smirks first and looks away then, ashamed once again. 

“Don’t be ashamed, Rafe, please,” you beg him, “I love that I get to see this vulnerable side of you and it turns me on incredibly.”

“Really?” He asks, his eyes wide and once again, you want to smack the whole world for telling men that they couldn’t be like this. Hot and bothered and desperate and wanting and submissive.

“Yes,” You say firmly, “Really.”

“I love the overstimulation,” he admits sheepishly. 

You laugh. “What’s there to be shy about?” You ask incredulously. “This is amazing, I love overstimulating my partners.”

“It’s just… it’s the best mixture of pain and pleasure,” he answers, “You want it to stop because it hurts and at the same time it hurts because it feels too good.”

You nod. There are lots of people out there hating overstimulation who would never go with Rafe’s description of it but you’ll take it.

He really is perfect, this new(-ish) sub of yours. You are perfect for each other. 

You can’t wait to see where this is going.