#bury it in my heart and then just keep cradling it

[soulofapatrick]

Bound by Starlight - Cassian x female reader 

Summary: Cassian shows you Starfall for the first time since you’ve been changed and it changes something between you 

Words: 2.8K 

Warnings: none really

Y/N's POV

I remember the feeling of my humanity being ripped away—an icy, clawing pain that stripped me of everything I once was. The cauldron’s water had wrapped around me like iron chains, pulling me down, down, until I could barely breathe. I had screamed, fought, begged to be freed, but the King of Hybern hadn’t cared. To him, I was just another Archeron sister, another human in the way, and he’d tossed me in with the others like I was nothing.

Now, I live as fae, my once-mortal body transformed, immortal senses heightened. My soul, however… it lingers somewhere between what I used to be and what I have no choice but to become. Nesta withdrew into herself, anger simmering behind cold eyes, shutting me out with her silence. Elain, though kind as always, sank into her garden, her love for flowers the only piece of herself she could cling to. And Feyre… she ascended, becoming the High Lady, a role so immense that I rarely even see her anymore.

Velaris is beautiful, I’ll give it that. With its vibrant, bustling streets, the colours and scents so alive, it’s like nothing I ever knew as a human. At first, I stumbled around here like an intruder, the way people would stare at my still-soft, unsure steps betraying how new I was to this world. Yet over time, I grew accustomed to it, learning the rhythms of the city, the names of the shops, and even a few faces. I’d walk the cobblestone streets and marvel at the glow of the faelights, the hum of the city’s magic, the warmth that seemed to cradle Velaris even on its coldest nights.

But even though I’ve adapted to this new life, I never truly chose it. I’m here because the fates made me, a decision stolen from me the moment I was dragged to Hybern. With no family to ground me—Feyre’s duties as High Lady, Nesta’s self-imposed exile, and Elain’s fragile retreat into the comfort of her plants—I’ve been left to find my way on my own.

Almost.

There is one person who’s been there for me. Cassian, with his easy smile and ridiculous sense of humour, has gone out of his way to make me feel welcome. Whether it’s pulling me into conversations, inviting me to training, or simply listening when I needed to vent, he’s somehow always been there, his presence steady and warm. He never makes me feel like a burden, or like I’m less for struggling to keep up in this world I never asked to join.

So when I hear the knock at my bedroom door, the heavy, rhythmic sound that could only belong to him, my heart tugs with a mix of irritation and relief.

“Go away, Cassian!” I call out, though there’s no real force behind it. I curl tighter under my blankets, fighting the urge to stay hidden in their warmth, in the comfortable darkness. I want to stay here forever, to pretend the world outside doesn’t exist, that I’m still just a human who never stepped into this tangled, chaotic fae world.

“Nice try,” he says, his voice muffled through the door. “But I’m not leaving.”

His determination stirs something in me—annoyance, but also a flicker of comfort. I sigh, closing my eyes, but the silence stretches on, tense and unyielding. He’s waiting me out, and we both know it.

I don’t answer, and for a second, I think he might give in and leave. But instead, the door creaks open, and I hear the heavy thud of his boots as he steps inside.

“Sorry, but I’m not letting you wallow,” he says, coming closer. I peek out from under the duvet and catch sight of him—standing there, arms crossed, his expression firm but gentle. His dark hair falls messily over his forehead, and his eyes, deep and intense, hold that same unwavering warmth I’ve come to rely on.

I grumble, “Cassian, go away,” my voice muffled beneath the blankets as I bury myself deeper, trying to escape the world outside. But he ignores me, of course. A quiet sigh reaches me before he crouches beside the bed, level with where I’m hiding.

The sight of him, even through the haze of my exhaustion, is almost enough to make me forget everything weighing on me. Cassian, with his wild, shoulder-length black hair half-tied back in a casual bun, his jaw dusted with scruff, and those hazel eyes that seem to hold sunlight and earth all at once. He’s massive, every muscle defined under the soft shirt he wears, and even at rest, his wings—massive and powerful—seem to radiate a silent promise of protection. He’s handsome, but in a rugged, arresting way that’s so different from the polished, refined beauty of Rhysand or the quiet, haunting allure of Azriel. Cassian is warmth and strength, solid and real, and even without saying anything, he fills the room with a sense of unbreakable steadiness.

“You can’t stay hidden in here forever,” he says softly, his voice gentle yet firm. The words slip through my defences, wrapping around me like an anchor, steadying me in a way I don’t think anyone else could. He holds my gaze, his expression so earnest it makes my chest ache.

A scoff escapes my lips as I try to pull the duvet back over my head, though there’s no real force behind it. “You wouldn’t understand.”

His eyes darken for a moment, a flicker of hurt he quickly covers with a smirk. “Maybe not,” he says quietly. “But I know what it’s like to feel out of place. And I know that hiding never helps.” His tone is soft, but there’s something so raw in his voice, an honesty that chips away at the walls I’ve built around myself, brick by painful brick.

He lets out a small, quiet laugh, and the sound is like warmth spilling over me, reaching places in my heart I’d thought long-buried. “You can’t hide from me,” he murmurs, reaching out to tug the blanket down, just enough so he can see my face. His eyes search mine, tender and steady, and for a moment, everything else falls away. It’s just us in this room, his presence a steady, comforting warmth, like a fire on the darkest night.

“Come with me,” he says, his voice softer now, almost a plea. “Just for a little while. I have something I want to show you.”

His words stir something fragile inside me, something I’ve been trying to ignore. There’s a gentle hope in his eyes, a quiet, unspoken promise, and despite myself, I feel that hope awaken in me too, as small and tentative as a candle flame. I sigh, tossing the blankets back, and swing my legs over the side of the bed, shivering as the cool air prickles my skin.

“Fine,” I whisper, barely audible. “But just for a little while.”

Cassian smiles, a soft, genuine expression that lights up his entire face. He extends a hand to me, his palm broad and warm, and I take it, feeling his roughened fingers curl around mine with a reassuring firmness. He leads me through the quiet halls of the House of Wind, his grip steady and grounding as we walk. I’m in nothing but a simple nightdress, my feet bare on the cool floor, but with his warmth beside me, I don’t feel the chill.

He stops before a set of tall, glass-paned doors that lead to a balcony, the curtains drawn tight. Without a word, he reaches forward, pulling them back with a gentle, sweeping motion that makes the light of the stars spill in like liquid silver, illuminating the room with a soft, ethereal glow. He glances back at me, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips as he leads me outside.

The night air is crisp, and a gentle breeze stirs the loose strands of his hair, catching the faint glimmer of stars reflected in his hazel eyes. “Look up,” he murmurs, his voice soft as a whisper.

I lift my gaze to the sky, and my breath catches. Above us, the stars are falling—silver and white streaks of light arcing across the heavens in a breathtaking, shimmering cascade. It’s Starfall, the legendary event that fills the Night Court’s sky with magic, as if the stars themselves are dancing for us. The sight is beautiful, overwhelming, like the world itself is pouring out light and life to remind me of something I’d forgotten: hope, beauty, wonder.

“This,” Cassian says, his voice barely more than a murmur, “is why Starfall matters. It’s a reminder that even after everything, there’s something beautiful left to hold onto.”

I turn to look at him, my heart tightening as I meet his gaze. Cassian watches me with a warmth and tenderness that slips past my carefully constructed walls, cutting right to the raw centre of everything I’ve been trying to hide. I feel a lump building in my throat, heavy and tight, and before I can stop it, my eyes fill with tears. I haven’t cried since all of this happened, haven’t allowed myself to feel what’s been buried, too afraid that if I let even a little of it slip, it would all come crashing down.

But here, with Cassian standing so close, so steady, his presence strong and unwavering, something inside me breaks. My breath hitches, a sob bubbling up before I can swallow it back. The first tear spills over, and then another, until the tears are streaming freely down my face. I try to turn away, to hide it, but Cassian steps closer, his expression softening with understanding.

And then my knees buckle. The weight of everything—of the losses, the terror, the forced transformation—becomes too much, and I sink, my body giving out under the flood of emotion. Cassian’s arms catch me before I can fall, and he lowers us both to the floor of the balcony, his strong arms wrapped tightly around me, supporting me. I cling to him, fists curling into the fabric of his shirt as I bury my face in his shoulder, finally letting it all out.

The stars keep falling around us, casting their ethereal glow across the balcony as Cassian holds me, his hand gently stroking through my hair, murmuring quiet words of comfort I can barely make out over the sound of my own sobs. His other arm is solid around me, like an anchor keeping me from floating away on the tide of my grief and confusion. I feel the warmth of his hand as it trails down my back, grounding me, reassuring me that I’m not alone.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, voice rough but gentle. “I’ve got you. Let it out; I’m here.”

I don’t know how long we sit there, with me sobbing into his shoulder, clinging to him as though he’s the only real thing left in the world. His hand never stops stroking my hair, each touch soothing, melting the ache in my chest little by little. Gradually, the sobs turn to quiet gasps, the tears slowing as I breathe in his scent, warm and familiar, a mixture of leather and something uniquely Cassian.

When I finally pull back, wiping at my tear-streaked face, he watches me with a gentleness that steals the breath from my lungs. There’s no judgment in his eyes, only understanding and a tenderness that makes my heart ache with something I can’t quite name. He brushes a stray tear from my cheek with his thumb, his touch warm and steady.

“There you are,” he says softly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His hazel eyes hold me, like I’m the only thing in the world he sees right now, and for a moment, I almost believe that maybe I’m enough—just as I am, scars and all.

“There you are,” he says, his voice soft, a quiet warmth in his gaze as he brushes another tear from my cheek. His thumb lingers, a gentle stroke against my skin, and it feels like he’s holding something precious, something he’s afraid might slip away if he’s not careful.

His eyes—those warm, hazel depths flecked with amber—search mine, and I realise he’s looking at me in a way I don’t think anyone ever has. As though he sees past everything, past the pain and the shadows, to a part of me that even I’ve forgotten was there. His hand rests against my face, grounding me in his presence, and I lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against my cheek.

A strange sensation unfurls in my chest—a tug, an ache so deep it almost hurts. It’s as if something invisible has been there all along, waiting, and now, with every beat of my heart, it snaps into place. The bond. I feel it, so powerful and certain, weaving itself between us, binding us together in a way that feels both foreign and achingly familiar. My breath catches, and I can see it in his eyes too, the moment he realises what’s happened. His expression softens, the smallest flicker of wonder and relief breaking through his own surprise.

“Do you feel it?” he whispers, his voice almost trembling as he searches my face, his gaze so full of awe and love that I feel like I could drown in it.

“Yes,” I breathe, barely able to speak around the emotion swelling inside me. It’s overwhelming—this sensation of being tethered to him, heart and soul, in a way that makes me feel more whole than I’ve ever been. I don’t know if I’m crying again or if it’s just the intensity of the moment, but I feel a tear slip down my cheek, and Cassian’s thumb gently brushes it away.

For a heartbeat, we’re just staring at each other, neither of us daring to move, afraid to shatter the delicate, perfect thing we’ve just found. But then he leans forward, his eyes locked on mine, and I feel his breath against my lips. Slowly, achingly slowly, he closes the distance, his mouth brushing mine with a gentleness that steals my breath.

The kiss is soft, heartbreakingly tender, like he’s pouring everything he feels into it—all the care, all the patience, all the love. His hand cradles my face, his fingers tracing small, soothing patterns against my skin as his lips move over mine, unhurried and soft, as if he has all the time in the world. I melt into him, letting the warmth of the bond settle around us like a blanket, wrapping us in something that feels as ancient as the stars.

Cassian’s other arm slips around my waist, pulling me closer, and I feel his heartbeat against mine, steady and strong, grounding me. He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his eyes fluttering open to meet my gaze.

“I never thought…” he murmurs, his voice breaking slightly as he searches my face, his expression so open, so vulnerable, that it makes my heart ache. “I never thought I’d find this. That I’d find you.”

A shaky breath escapes me, and I reach up, threading my fingers into his hair, feeling the softness against my skin as I hold him close. “You saved me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, a truth that I hadn’t fully realised until this moment. “In more ways than one.”

He smiles, a soft, beautiful expression that makes my heart stutter, and then he kisses me again—this time with a little more certainty, a little more passion, as if he’s making a promise. It’s gentle, heartbreakingly sweet, every brush of his lips over mine conveying the depth of his love, his commitment, and the quiet, fierce protectiveness that’s always been there.

When we finally pull apart, he cradles my face in his hands, his gaze so warm, so tender, that I feel my heart swell in my chest.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, his voice rough but full of certainty. “Not now, not ever.”

And as I look into his eyes, feeling the bond humming between us, I know he means it. I feel the weight of his promise settle around me, grounding me, filling the empty spaces in my heart with a warmth I never thought I’d feel again. And for the first time in so long, I believe that maybe, just maybe, I’m home.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

TAGS:

@lilah-asteria @maleficmuse @fanficscuziranout

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 01 Chapter 01 | favored⌟

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Eileithyia rushed through the marble halls of Olympus, her breath coming in short, labored pants. A silver torch flickered in her grasp, the flames matching the intensity of her frantic heartbeats.

She was a striking figure—her dark hair tied beneath a kerchief, the embroidered peplos of pinkish-red flowed behind her like a stream. The wreath adorning her head shifted as she ran, her lips muttering prayers to herself—each word an urgent, unyielding reminder.

No, no, no... I'm going to be late, she thought, a fearful frown etched on her face.

Eileithyia had a purpose today—a life hung in the balance, and she was supposed to be there. As the goddess of childbirth, her presence was crucial.

The birth couldn't conclude without her.

She had seen centuries of births, had delivered souls into the harsh yet beautiful realm of humanity, and she had never been late.

Not once. Yet, this evening had not gone as planned.

Ate—the goddess of mischief, ruin, and destruction—had decided otherwise.

She had taken it upon herself to set a thousand small obstacles in Eileithyia's path—misplaced tools, disruptions among the mortals, inexplicable detours. A labyrinth of mischief that made her late—far later than she'd ever imagined possible.

Annoyances. Delays. Each a thread that tangled itself around Eileithyia's feet, keeping her from where she needed to be. The weight of her tardiness bore down on her chest, a gnawing fear taking root within her.

By the time she arrived on Earth, it was far too late.

She arrived to a quaint carriage, situated alone under a starlit sky. Its windows glowed softly in the night, and inside, she could hear the low murmurs of those gathered.

The humble room she entered was dark, the shadows deep, illuminated only by the glow of her torch. And at the center of it all sat a woman, her skin a warm sepia, her dark hair pulled away from her tear-streaked face.

"Nooo!" The woman sobbed, her face buried into a bundle of cloth that she cradled to her chest.

Eileithyia's heart sank as she ventured silently along the walls of the room, She observed the scene before her, her chest aching.

Eileithyia moved along the walls of the room, unseen and unheard, her presence cloaked from mortal eyes. Her heart broke for what she saw: the woman was crying, her face twisted in a sorrow that needed no words to explain.

Beside her sat a young man, his blond locks disheveled, his hands trembling as he gently held his wife.

"Aleka, my love...," he whispered, his voice a soft rasp that shattered the silence. He held her, and she clung to him as if she could drown her sorrow in his embrace.

"I-I can't... it hurts, Kairo," she whimpered, tears streaming freely, her body still trembling with pain, her lower body coated in blood.

The room was shrouded in somber silence, broken only by Aleka's soft cries and the muffled movements of the midwives as they cleaned up the remnants of the birth that had gone so terribly wrong.

The atmosphere weighed heavily with sorrow, grief, and the undeniable finality of death.

Eileithyia walked closer to the grieving parents, her heart aching with each step.

She peered down, her heart fracturing further at the sight of the stillborn child. The infant lay so small and delicate in her mother's arms, her tiny features illuminated by the flickering torchlight.

She was perfect—round cheeks, a delicate button nose, tiny lips formed in an innocent pout, like a rosebud just beginning to bloom.

A beautiful soul, taken far too soon, Eileithyia thought, her fingers reaching to trace the baby's soft cheek, committing every detail to memory.

With a soft hum, Eileithyia leaned over, her torch casting a glow that seemed to wrap around the infant like a final embrace; her fingers brushed Aleka's arm in a silent farewell before she lifted the child from her mother's grasp, cradling her in her arms.

Stepping back from the grieving parents, Eileithyia kept her gaze lowered, her steps quiet and deliberate. She knew her path—she would descend into the Underworld, where the souls of the dead found rest.

It wasn't fair, but it was life.

As she walked away, the parents' anguished cries softened, fading into the distance. The baby's body felt heavier in her arms as she began the descent, the air thickening around her with the scent of earth and ancient mist.

Before she could cross the threshold into the underworld, a servant burst into the room.

"Wait!"

Eileithyia paused, glancing over her shoulder to see a servant running towards the grieving parents; he was out of breath, his eyes wild with urgency, his voice stammering as he spoke.

In his hands, he held a small, glowing flower—its petals shimmering with an ethereal light, as though capturing the very essence of dawn within its delicate form.

"A-a prophecy," he gasped, as the midwives turned to face him, "from Delphi. This is a sacred flower, blessed by Apollo himself. It is said to have grown in Apollo's sacred groves, glowing with a golden light, and its essence has the power to bring a soul back from the edge of death. But it must be used swiftly—before the child is taken beyond the threshold of the Underworld!"

The servant's head turned, almost supernaturally, his gaze distant but unwavering. It was as though his eyes pierced the veil between mortal and divine, locking onto Eileithyia.

For a heartbeat, Eileithyia paused, her steps faltering as she felt the weight of his stare. It was almost as if he could see her—an ethereal figure, a goddess holding a child who had yet to fully cross into death.

She glanced down at the small bundle, her heart torn between sorrow and an instinctive sense of duty, before looking back up, determination setting into her expression; she would wait.

The father, Kairo, looked at the servant with suspicion, his face hardening. His voice was edged with both desperation and anger as he asked, "What is the cost? A life saved by the gods always comes with a price, doesn't it?"

The servant hesitated, his gaze flickering, clearly struggling with the burden of the answer. The tension in the room was palpable as the father repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Tell me, what's the price? Or are you just here to give us false hope?"

Swallowing nervously, the servant finally spoke, his voice trembling. "The oracle says that the child will carry the weight of Apollo's favor—a debt that may come due at any time, with no guarantees of what the gods might ask."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the air almost too thick to breathe.

Aleka's gaze met Kairo's, her eyes filled with tears, wide with both fear and desperate hope. She looked at her husband, searching his face for guidance.

Kairo stared back at her, the love for his wife evident in the way his hardened features softened ever so slightly.

Kairo finally lowered his gaze, looking down at their stillborn daughter. She looked so peaceful, her tiny form held in her mother's embrace.

His throat tightened, the pain of the decision weighing on him, but he knew there was no choice—only a chance to give their daughter the life she deserved.

He nodded, his eyes filled with determination and love as he whispered, "Do it."

Aleka let out a shaky breath, her trembling voice joining his. "Yes... do it. Whatever the cost, we will bear it."

The midwives moved with urgency, retrieving all the materials needed for an impromptu salve. The flower's petals glowed with a gentle golden light, and its aroma filled the room with warmth and magic.

The servant cradled it reverently, before crushing it in his hands, the glowing powder falling into a small dish.

With practiced hands, the midwives mixed it into a poultice, and applied it gently to the baby's lips, her chest, and her tiny forehead.

For a long moment, nothing happened. The room was silent, the air thick with anticipation, Aleka and Kairo holding their breaths.

Eileithyia paused, her hands trembling, her eyes never leaving the babe in her arms.

And then—a miracle.

The baby in Eileithyia's arms squirmed, her eyes opening wide. The goddess stared down, her heart swelling with relief and wonder.

A small, smoky puff enveloped the baby, and before Eileithyia could react, the infant vanished from her arms.

Over the veil separating mortal and divine, a sharp, piercing cry filled the once-silent room. Aleka gasped, her head snapping up as the bundle in her arms moved, the baby's eyes open, her cries loud and full of life.

Through her sobs, Aleka cried out her daughter's name, "____" her voice trembling with joy as she held her daughter close. Kairo, too, let out a shaky breath, his eyes wide with disbelief, his hands moving to wrap around both his wife and child.

The baby was alive, saved by the flower—a favor of Apollo himself, bestowed only upon those whose fate had caught his eye.

Eileithyia watched quietly from the shadows, her heart heavy and hopeful at once.

She knew what this meant. This child was touched by the gods.

And the gods... the gods did not simply forget those who had been touched by their favor.

As the infant settled into her mother's embrace, Eileithyia whispered to herself, her voice a soft promise that disappeared into the night.

"May the gods be kind to you, child. For their favor is not always a blessing."

A/N: now, for my long-awaited fic! hope you guys enjoy what i have planned ❤️❤️😩, also if not known, this will be post-EPIC, so after odysseus returns...

[newwritinghabit]

The Snowstorm

Sebastian from Stardew Valley and Female Farmer smut

Foreplay while sleeping, fingering, and cumming in pants. Kind of long

My first real post is sdv smut, lol

🔞 NSFW 🔞 below cut

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was the first time that Sebastian's mom, Robin, had invited his new girlfriend, the farmer in town, to have dinner with the family. It was a nice evening with friendly chatting, but as the winter night drew on, the snow outside grew deeper.

"The snow up in the mountains gets pretty fierce sometimes," Robin says. "You better stay the night. Would you be comfortable sharing a room with Sebby? Or we can set a mattress up in Maru's-"

Robin couldn't even finish the sentence before she spoke up, "sleeping in the basement sounds fine!" Her confident smile eased any doubt from Robin's mind.

So here we are, Sebastian thinks. It's his first time sharing a bed with his girlfriend. And at first it is exciting and fun, cuddling and kissing until she gets tired and falls asleep. He is impressed by how easily she fell asleep, too. For him, it is not so easy. His hard-on in his pants is practically all he can think about besides how soft her skin is against his fingers and how her hair smells as he cradles her from behind. No, it is not easy for him to sleep. As much as he wants her, it is more important that he does not make her uncomfortable.

So he wills his eyes shut and concentrates on his breathing, trying to calm himself. But suddenly she moves. Her hips squirm against his erection and his eyes fly open as he stifles a moan that tries to escape his mouth. That feels so good. Too good. When was the last time he took care of himself? Is he always this sensitive? Or maybe it is this luscious ass that she has that feels so good. Without thinking he slides his hands down to grip her hips.

"Mmmm," the sound comes from his girlfriend's sleeping lips. It sounds like she likes how he grabbed her. Sebastian's breathing starts to come as faster, shorter breaths. His heart beats faster and his mind races, conflicted between his desires and his worry about taking advantage of his sleeping girlfriend.

Then she moves again, this time her hands. Her hands slide down on top of his hands, lacing between his fingers and brings his palms up to her breasts. With that slight movement her nipples perked up to poke his hands. In disbelief Sebastian buries his face in her back. He tries to stay still, as still as humanly possible. His face is hot with blushing. His breath steams his face against her back. His heart pounds in the silence of his bedroom. He becomes drunk with desire.

"Mmmmm," She says again, a little louder. Is she really asleep? Sebastian wonders. His cock throbs with want, but he is scared to escalate things. What if she got upset when she woke up? Slowly, impossibly slowly he pushes his hips toward her, pressing his swollen member against her round cheeks. It feels so good! He is practically panting now. He lifts his head away from her back to get more air. As he does this she arches her back ever so slightly, putting even more pressure on his cock. He has to bite his lip to stop from whining.

Her hands on top of his tighten, which tightens his own grip on her breasts. His mouth salivates, and he has to gulp once and take a deep breath to keep himself under control. Eternity seems to stretch in those few moments as he tries not to move while his heartbeat races.

He loses his mind. He grips the full soft breast in his other hand and slams his hips and dick against her ass and cannot stop himself from groaning out loud. Just that one motion has him close to orgasm.

A short time later, she moves again. Excitement and panic strike Sebastian as she brings one of his hands up to her face and then her mouth. A hot, wet tongue licks up the length of his middle finger, and she begins to suck on it. "Mmmph," she hums on him.

This wakes her up. His finger is still wet and hanging from her lips. Her mind was not fully awake, but her body feels ravenous. "Sebby?" She asks in a voice husky with sleep.

"Y-yeah?" he answers quietly. He sweats nervously, wondering what her reaction will be to waking up in this position.

"Mmm, this feels good, can you touch me more?" She asks him plainly. He is incredibly turned on by her direct request. He holds her tight as he whispers, "yes."

His hands wander down her sides, and then under her shirt as his mouth finds its way to her neck. She let's out a moan of pleasure. His fingers travel up to her breasts and then her expressive nipples. He brushes his fingers over them before taking them lightly between his thumbs and indexes. He rolls them slightly and pinches them and she gasps for breath. She feels a heat between her legs and her ass grinds against his dick. He moans this time, parting his lips from her neck where he is almost certain he left a love mark. He moves to the other side of her neck and kisses down to her shoulder and bites down again. She whines with desire. She takes one of his hands and slides it down to her pantline.

"Touch me down here too." Her voice has a note of pleading. Sebastian doesn't need to be coaxed, and he slides his hand into her panties and into the hot wetness that waits between her legs. He nearly cums at the feel of her and the thought of his cock entering her. He pauses a moment to control himself and begins to tenderly finger her slit. He rubs his dick against her behind, and the pleasure of it nearly ends him. The noises of enjoyment that she makes encourage him. He adds a tiny tug on her nipple to the sensations and she has to cover her mouth to stop a scream. Sebastian starts to rub himself against her rhythmically and start to play with her clit.

"OH! Oh, yes!" She cries in a whisper, "I'm gonna cum!" This announcement drives Sebastian over the edge and he plasters the inside of his pants as her pussy tightens around his fingers. She cannot even cover her mouth as her hands move to grab him and the thrills of orgasm electrify her. She cries out sexual nonsense until her body eventual calms again. Her cunt is still twitching around his digits. There is silence except for their labored breathing. Slowly he withdraws his hand from her pants and hugs her tightly. He will need to clean himself soon. But he wants to savor this moment just a bit longer.

As she calms down, the farmer begins to wake up a little more, and chuckles. "Well that was fun," She says. Sebastian laughs.

[therealfailwhale]

I genuinely CANNOT handle this like holy fuck

[sabersandsnipers]

Drabbles: Just One Bed

Featuring: Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Lord Gortash

Inspiration courtesy of @creativepromptsforwriting

Astarion

There’s only one pillow. So you and Astarion have to share. Neither of you want the annoyance of waking up with neck pain. And after arguing for a bit, you realize neither of you is winning.

Despite trying his best to keep distance between you, it’s incredibly difficult while trying to share a pillow. His body cradles yours. His lips nearly touch the back of your neck. For a while he manages to keep his hands to himself, but as his eyes grow heavy, his arm snakes its way around your waist.

Your body feels like its on fire despite his cold skin. You’re worried the rapid beat of your heart will keep him awake.

Somehow sleep eventually finds you. In the middle of the night, you roll over to find a more comfortable position. When you wake up, you find your face buried in Astarion’s chest.

He himself hasn’t slept since you rolled into him. He’s kept his arm slung over you, though, and has listened to your steady breathing all night.

When you attempt to move away from him, his grip around you automatically tightens. You freeze, waiting for him to realize you’re awake, but he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t want to. He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed. Your body is warm and soft, and he never wants to leave this bed.

Gale

The bed is roomy, which you’re grateful for. There should be plenty of space for you two. There’s no blanket though, so Gale roots through the closet for one.

Gale clears his throat, and you turn your attention to him holding up a rather small blanket. One that definitely would not cover the whole bed.

“You have it,” he hands it to you. “I’ll be fine.”

You hesitate. “Are you sure?”

“Most definitely,” he replies, already making his way to the bed.

You climb in next to him, pulling the blanket up to your chin. It’s barely big enough to cover your own person. You look to Gale, who’s turned away from you. He looks so exposed, and frankly, uncomfortable.

“Gale?” you say.

“Hm?” he turns to look at you.

“Do you want to share?” you ask. You hold up the blanket so he can slide in.

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He scooches over to you, and you let the blanket drop around you two. You let out a sigh of contentment as the warmth of Gale’s body presses against you. You usually run cold, so you’re grateful he accepted your offer.

He wraps his arms around you, because there’s no other way for you two to get comfortable. In the night, he even drapes a leg over you. You don’t mind, you even find yourself nuzzling into him, seeking every bit of warmth you can.

Halsin

A rainstorm tears your tent in the night. The cold splatter of rain on your face wakes you. Your bedroll is soaked, along with most of your belongings. You groan, getting out of bed so you can seek shelter with a companion. 

Out of all the tents before you, Halsin’s calls to you. You know it’ll be the warmest. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you make your way to his tent. 

You poke your head in. “Halsin?”

He wakes, an alarmed look on his face. “What is it?”

“My tent ripped. Can I stay with you?” A shiver slinks through your body. 

He nods. “Of course.”

He opens his bed roll a bit, and you see he’s naked. Your jaw drops. You hesitate, part of you feeling like you’re crossing a line. 

But then another shiver hits you, and you practically run into his arms. You sigh as you slide into the warmth of his bedroll. 

Halsin groans. “You’re freezing.” 

  “I know.” You don’t hesitate to press up against him, soaking in all his warmth. 

  “You’ll warm up soon,” he says, rubbing your back. Then his voice hits your ear. “You’d warm sooner if you removed your clothes as well.” 

Your stomach drops. You know if you do this, your companionship is going to get a bit complicated. But the thought of his hot skin against yours is too tempting.

He helps you out of your clothes, your heart fluttering the whole time. When you’re fully naked, he pulls you into his chest. Your heart pounds, but you relax against the heat of him. 

He fully cocoons you, wrapping a thick leg around you to pull you even closer. You feel your body start to warm, and the shivers start to cease. You try to ignore how perfectly lined up you are to him. You know sleep will be impossible like this, but it’s worth it to spend the night in his warm embrace.

Gortash

You may have had one drink too many. The wine Enver provided for you was far too good to go to waste. And waste you did not.  The last thing you remember is the soft cushioning of a bed before darkness took you. 

The harsh morning light wakes you. The first sensation that hits you is that of a pounding headache. The next is that of a pair of strong arms encircling you. 

Confusion hits you. You don’t remember going to bed with anyone. You feel your underwear is on, so nothing happened with whoever is in the bed with you. 

You slowly turn your body to see who this mystery person is. You’re met with the strong face of Lord Gortash. Butterflies fill your belly. He simply invited you over for dinner, and here he is letting you sleep in his bed. 

He’s sound asleep, his soft breathing evidence of the relaxed state he’s in. He’s sleeping shirtless, and you tentatively place your palms against his strong chest. You feel the strong muscles rippling under his skin. 

He stirs slightly and you quickly hide your face against his chest. He shifts, his chest hairs tickling your skin. His powerful arms hold you so gently.

With your headache forgotten, and Enver’s body sending waves of warmth through you, sleep finds you again.

[semiis]

their cuddle positions w/haikyuu

pairing: various x reader

genre: headcanons ; fluff

warning(s): none

a/n: this is an old post i uploaded on my hq blog from 2020. this was one of my favorites so I thought it was be nice to post it again. back then, i went with the ones i wrote for so i'm keeping it just the way it is. i’m really sorry if your favorite isn’t there. i hope you guys like them !!

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

atsumu, ushijima, daichi ⥼ the sweetheart cradle. i personally think this would be his go to cuddling position. his arm wrapped around you, holding you close while he lays on his back, your head buried deep into his chest while you inhale the scent of his cologne. most definitely pats or strokes your head as a sign of comfort or whispers nothing but comforting words to you. 

suna, kageyama, tsukishima ⥼ the leg hug. i don’t know why, but this is definitely you guy’s go to. the two of you would be chilling on either one’s bed, sleeping, on the phone, playing games etc. while one of your legs are entangled together. it’s much more relaxing to him and you both get the physical contact you were craving from each other. 

oikawa, sugawara, kita, asahi ⥼ the honeymoon hug. oikawa loves the physical affection between you two and whenever he’s feeling touch starved this is his go to. the both of you are entwined together, holding the other tight, arms wrapped around each other - almost as if refusing to let go. his chin (or yours) is delicately propped up on top of yours. he can feel your breath against the crook of his neck and he adores it. sometimes find him or yourself peppering soft kisses on the other. 

bokuto, lev, yamaguchi ⥼ the spoon. he loves cuddling, especially when it’s with you. he mostly loves cuddling after a long day a practice when he’s beat and worn out.  he lives for having his arms securely around your torso while your back is pressed up against his chest. you would sometimes find his hands caressing your sides or arms and he’d be eager to leave the most tender kisses against the back of your neck. 

hinata, osamu, noya, tanaka ⥼ the butt pillow. you or him laying on your stomach while the other has their head propped up on your butt. also an easy way to tease his s/o. he loves it. the “best pillow in the room” and the only one you guys want to lay your head against. it’s common if he strokes/caresses your leg, might even draw an invisible heart on it. 

tendou, kuroo, iwaizumi, semi ⥼ the cradle. he enjoys when you're laying on top of him, legs on either side of his body, cradling him while his arms hold you firm against his chest. you listen to the sound of his heartbeat and almost find yourself falling asleep to the soothing, rhythmic sound. 

kenma, sakusa, akaashi ⥼ the lap pillow. he’s fond of laying his head in your lap and often finds himself doing it every time he comes over to your place and vice versa. play with his hair, stroke his cheek with your finger, boop his nose, bend over to place kisses on his face - all of them would make him melt. loves peering up at your face from that angle and admires just how attractive you are. 

© semiis 2024 ; do not translate, repost, modify, or copy my work.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: panic attack, PPD

"Does tomorrow morning work? I'll be heading to base immediately after. Want to make sure I have enough time to say goodbye."

"Yeah, we'll see you then."

Simon goes to bed early that night.

He's good at clearing his mind and willing himself to sleep, hovering just barely there on the surface, never dipping too deep, and has done it for years. It enables his ability to rest in even some of the most uncomfortable circumstances (and that includes Johnny's snoring). It's compartmentalizing at it's finest, something he's tried to impress upon the sergeants too, over time.

Learn how to do this. It may save your life.

The pendulum swing keeps him somewhat aware, connected to a very small piece still tethered to the conscious world.

It's how he hears his phone ring at twenty hundred.

The caller ID flashes your name and he picks up immediately, sitting straight up. "Hey-"

"Hi, um..." You're crying. He flips himself out of bed, already partially dress, and manages to locate his shoes in a millisecond.

"What's wrong?"

"Can you... can you c-come- take the baby for a little while?" Your exhale whistles through the phone sharply. "P-please. I know you- you're leaving tomorrow but I-"

"It's alright, I'm on my way. I'll be there in a minute. Are you okay?"

"I- I... don't know wh-what to do." You're hyperventilating, caught in the grip of something, scared and alone. The sidewalk stretches for miles, his lungs burning as the oxygen stays trapped in his chest from the weight of his fear, and the line goes quiet, call ending as he makes it to the lobby of your building and up the stairs.

The copy of your key he never returned gets him inside, and the first thing he notices, or realizes, is Orion's screaming. He calls your name, yells it, beelining for the nursery where the baby lays on his back, hands and feet wriggling wildly in the air, tears coursing down his cheeks as he wails. "Alright, Ry, alright. C'mere, I've got you." You're not in here, not anywhere in sight, and his stomach flips.

You have to be here. He just talked to you.

But you wouldn't know how to signal him if something was really wrong, would you? He didn't prepare you. If something happened, how would you tell him?

He tucks Orion into his arms, cradles him to his chest, and bounces him gently. "Hey, you're okay, you're okay. What's all this crying about, hmm? What is it? Where's your mama?" The crying gentles, barely, and Simon holds him at a distance, quickly, checking him over. He's not overheated, he doesn't seem to be hurt, he's freshly bathed and in a clean onesie. His nappy is new and doesn't need to be changed. "Mama took good care of you, huh? You're all clean, fresh nappy, ready for bed, aren't you bub? Yeah." Simon paces in a circle, trying to settle his cries, before lowering him back into the crib. "You stay right here, little man, alright? Close your eyes. Daddy's gonna find mama and he'll be right back."

You're not in the living room, and he finds your bedroom dark when he opens the door. For a very brief moment, his panic blooms into paralyzation, before he spots the light from your bathroom.

His heart breaks when he opens the door.

You're on the floor, back against the vanity, sobbing with your palms covering your ears. You look like you haven't showered in days, and your light blue t shirt is soaked, slicked to your breasts and belly.

There's no distance between the two of you in this moment, no barriers, no time, no need for space. He kneels, and you look up, tearful eyes telling him all he needs to know. "I'm here, mama. I've got you."

You go into his arms willingly, diaphragm heaving with tiny hiccups and sobs, unable to catch your breath. Your entire body shakes, and wraps himself around you, holding you tight where you've buried your face in his chest. "I- I'm s-sorry." You're hoarse, voice cracked and broken. "He w-won't stop."

"Shhh, don't worry about that right now, just take a deep breath." You shake your head.

"I can't."

"Yes you can." You're frozen, panicked, and he smoothes his hand over your head. "You can do it, honey. Try f'me." The baby is still crying, and with the bathroom door slightly ajar, it bounces off the tile, all around you. Simon grimaces.

He's fine, he's safe. He's in his crib.

Simon shuts the door.

"Breathe with me, alright?" he maneuvers you so that you're in his arms, laying on his chest, face tipped back to his. "Just follow me," he pulls the hand that's gripping onto his forearm like rebar away and places it over his heart, "like this." You try and try to sync your breathing with his, and once you finally get there, evening out slowly, he kisses your hair. "There you go, good girl."

Simon keeps you close, happy to hold you, even if it was in these circumstances. It's so selfish, so wrong, but he can't find it in himself to let you go, waiting long past the point when you've calmed down to finally speak again. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"He... he wouldn't stop crying. For hours and I... I tried everything, but I felt like I couldn't breathe and I felt... dizzy, and when I went to feed him he didn't want me and I was crying too, but I felt so- so mad at the same time, and I didn't know what to do so I j-just put him in his crib and came in here and c-called you. I don't kn-know what I did wrong-" your breathing slips into shallow territory again, and he rubs your back.

"You didn't do anything wrong. He's okay, he's safe. He's even got a fresh nappy on. You made sure you took care of him, which is all you need to do, okay?"

"I feel awful," you whisper, drenched in shame, "he needs to eat, and I just- I abandoned him."

"No, you did the right thing and took a break. There's nothing wrong with taking a break." You sniffle, pulling the sopping shirt away from your body, shivering with discomfort. "Do you want to try again? See if it goes any better?" You give him a frightened look, unsure and nervous. "I'll be right here with you."

"Okay."

"Let's go see your mama." Orion has worked himself into a state, and it tears Simon to pieces, guilt about leaving him in here ripping through his heart.

He feels responsible. He is responsible, at the end of the day. If he had been upfront with you from the beginning, this might have never happened. He would have been here. You would have the support you need.

He was supposed to take care of you, but all he did was make it worse.

He kisses Orion gently. It helps quell the anxiety growing like a plague inside him, worry and fear about leaving you on your own for weeks, or more, chipping away at his resolve. He tells himself you'll be okay, that you did it on your own before he came along, and that you can do it again, but the admission of another dizzy spell doesn't make him feel any better in the long run.

"Don't worry, she's okay now. She loves you so much, you know that? She takes such good care of you, all the time. Even when she doesn't feel good, doesn't she?" He doesn't turn the lights on to your bedroom, and finds you on the bed, sitting up, wet shirt discarded on the floor. He doesn't rush it, doesn't push you, even though the baby cries at the top of his lungs in Simon's arms.

Finally, you hold your hands out. He helps get Orion settled, stroking his cheek over and over until he starts to instinctually seek you out, latching after a few long minutes.

Your eyes slip closed at the silence and you lean to the side, nestling into Simon's chest.

He holds you. You hold his baby.

How it was always meant to be.

He whispers above your ear, working his fingers into the knots of your neck, your shoulders. "You're doing great, mama." You hum but stay quiet, head down, fingers stroking over Ry's cheek, again and again.

"Thank you... for being here. I know things are complicated but it means a lot that you would come. I'm sorry I freaked out, about your job. I just... it's a lot to take in. I don't really know how to feel. I need some time." That's good, he thinks. Better than last week, when you asked him to leave with tears in your eyes. There's hope. He can fix this.

"You can have all the time you want sweetheart, but... I need to ask you a favor." Orion's body full relaxes, little fist clenched in the swell of your breast falling away, and you sigh.

"What is it?"

"When I'm away... I can turn my phone on every now and then, in specific places. D'you think you could send me some pictures? Or maybe I could call, when I'm able?"

"Of course."

He stays most of the night, until the sun comes up. Gets Ry back down, stands watch while you're in shower, helps you get settled in bed. There's a special place in his heart for you when you're soft and sweet and sleepy, a tiny kitten, curling up in the palm of his hand, purring. His moon. His everything.

"You be good for your mama, okay? I expect a good report when I get home. And try not to grow too much, alright little man?" He kisses his head, holding it there, walking around in the kitchen with Ry in his arms. "I love you, Orion. You and your mama. I'll be home real soon."

You turn the corner, something clenched in your hands, what, he can't tell, and you smile sadly. "I uh... I have something for you." He cocks, his head, shifting the baby to one arm, and you hold your fist out. "It's kind of dumb, honestly, but I thought you might... I don't know. I thought you might like it. I made it myself." It's a small fabric square, embroidered with a constellation, Orion's, he recognizes now, and a compass. "It's so you can always find it in the night sky. If you're in the northern hemisphere it should be south west, and if you're in the southern, it's in the north west. I didn't know like, what you could take with you but I figured this is small enough..." You look embarrassed, and all he wants to do is pull you into his arms and kiss you.

But he can't. He can only whisper your name, thick with emotion.

"It's great. I'll use it every night. Thank you." You blink, eyes wet, and then nod. He glances at his watch.

"Time to go?"

"Yeah," he hands you the baby, and picks up his duffle, the weight foreign now but still familiar. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

"I will."

"Promise me." He's stern, pushing a little bit of lieutenant into it, and you agree again, quickly.

"I will." You follow him to the door, holding Orion up for him to kiss one last time, and then he presses his mouth to your forehead, pleased when you don't pull away. He's dragging it out, the reluctance too ripe, and finally hangs his head in defeat after the too short minutes tick away.

"I'll see you soon." He gives you one last look, memorizing your face, Orion's, as much as he can, before heading down the hall.

"Simon," you call, turning him on a dime, "be careful, okay? Make sure... make sure you come home." Home.

"I will. I promise."

[hoshifighting]

heyy there!!

I was wondering if you could write a fiction where the svt members give a silent treatment to the reader but she is too sensitive and starts crying (because she thinks she doesn't deserve them)

Please feel free to reject it if ur uncomfortable 😚😚

seventeen reaction when you start to cry when they give you a silent treatment

a/n: guyyyys im the worst with angst, but i tried!! 🙏

seungcheol the second you start shaking, he’s up on his feet, crossing the room and pulling you into a tight, crushing hug. he’s warm, solid, his hand gently cradling the back of your head. “my fault, my fault, my fault,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “i should’ve been better. i should’ve stopped this. i didn’t mean to hurt you. god, i didn’t mean it.”

jeonghan’s regretting it the whole time. too good at keeping his distance, until he sees the tears running down your cheeks. then, he freezes “hey, hey…” he pulls you into his arms, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “shit, i’m sorry. you know i was just being stupid, right?” he leans his forehead against yours, brushing his fingers through your hair. “don’t cry, baby. it kills me to see you like this.”

joshua he’s always so gentle, i dont even see him giving silent treatment to someone. he’s instantly at your side, cupping your face in his hands. “please don’t cry. i hate this. i hate that i made you feel like this.” his voice wavers as he presses his lips to your forehead, his touch feather-light. “i love you, okay? i’m so sorry. i should’ve never let it get this far.”

junhui’s been avoiding your gaze, trying to keep the silence going even though it’s killing him. that first broken sob makes him almost freak out, he’s at your side, his hands trembling as he touches your arm. “oh— i— no, don’t cry,” he murmurs, his voice in purew panic. he gently pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

hoshi snapd. of course he snaps. he practically flies out of his seat, rushing over to you, arms wide. “oh, shit—no, no, don’t cry, don’t cry,” he blurts out, voice frantic as he wraps you up in the tightest hug, almost lifting you off the ground with how desperate he is. his fingers stroke your back awkwardly, trying to soothe you, and his voice is trembling.

wonwoo when he sees the tears fall, something inside him bursts. he’s not good at dealing with emotions, but he can’t just sit there while you’re crying. he pulls you gently onto his lap, his hand awkwardly stroking your hair. “i’m sorry, i don’t always know how to show it… but i care. a lot. i never wanted to make you cry.” he presses a kiss to your temple, his heart racing. “don’t cry, please. or I will cry too.” wonwoo says—already crying.

woozi stands up, awkwardly hovering for a second before pulling you into a tight hug. “fuck… i’m sorry,” he whispers against your hair. “i didn’t mean to push you this far.” his grip on you tightens, and he rests his chin on your head, letting out a shaky breath. “i can’t stand seeing you like this.” fingers twitching like he’s about to break any second.

minghao crouches down now too, right in front of you. he doesn’t say much at first, just gently tugs your hands away from your face, his touch delicate, like he’s scared to break you even more. “this was stupid, i shouldn’t have done this. it was childish.” he holds your gaze, his eyes serious “you didn’t deserve that.” kisses the back of your hands, laying his head on your knees begging you for forgiveness.

mingyu is already full of shame before you even start crying. but when the sobs hit, he stops dead in his tracks. he rushes to you, kneeling down in front of you. his large hands cup your face, and his thumbs brush away your tears. “fuck, i never wanted to make you cry.” his voice cracks, and he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, his head buried in your shoulder. looks like he’s about to break down himself.

seokmin gets on his knees beside you, eyes wide and watery, his usual smile completely gone. “my love i—” he says in this tiny voice, like he’s terrified he made everything worse. his hands flutter near your arm before he finally grips your sleeve like he needs you to believe him. “please don’t cry because of me.”

seungkwan’s been fidgeting the whole time, hating every second of the silence. thinking it couldn't get worse until you break in front of him “oh my god,” he blurts out, rushing over to you, his voice frantic. he pulls you into his arms, holding you as tight as he can. he lets out a shaky breath. “you’re everything to me. i’m sorry for making you feel like this.”

vernon is not sure how to fix it, thinking that in all ways, this sucked. the second you start crying, his chest tightens, and he’s at your side, pulling you into his lap. “i’m so so sorry. i didn’t mean to let it get this bad.” he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, trying to look into your eyes, pressing his lips into a line when you look away. “i’m here, okay? i’m here.” he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

chan would be standing by the door, but the second you sob again, he’s crossing the room in three big steps, hands flinching to touch you and flinching back at him again as if he would burn you if he did. he would rather sit beside you still in silence, to find the best words since he hasn't talked during this whole time.

[pucksandpower]

Lullaby

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: in which Max is the only lullaby you’ll ever need

Warnings: 18+ content

You stare up at the ceiling, wide awake. The numbers on the alarm clock seem to taunt you, the minutes ticking by as you struggle in vain to fall asleep.

It’s nearly 1 am and Max still isn’t home.

With a sigh, you roll over and bury your face in his pillow, breathing in his familiar scent.

It’s not the same.

Your body craves his warmth, the protective circle of his arms. Sleep just won’t come without him here.

You’ve always been this way, for as long as you can remember. A perpetual insomniac, tossing and turning through the lonely nights.

That is, until you met Max.

The first night you spent together, you were astonished to find yourself drifting off within minutes of being wrapped in his strong embrace. It was like magic. Now, months later, the spell hasn’t broken. Max has become a necessity, not just for your heart but also for your health.

The sound of the front door opening stirs you from your restless thoughts. Muted footsteps make their way to the bedroom and you feel the mattress dip down.

“Hey,” Max whispers, his hand grazing your shoulder. “Sorry I’m so late, the meeting ran long. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting up.”

You roll over to face him, drinking in the sight of his tousled hair and tired eyes. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here.”

He offers you a soft smile, the one he saves only for these quiet intimate moments, and your heart skips. No matter how many times you see it, that smile never fails to make you melt.

“Let me just wash up and I’ll be right there, okay?” He squeezes your hand gently before disappearing into the bathroom.

You listen to the familiar sounds of him getting ready for bed, a ritual you know by heart. The splash of water, the electric hum of his toothbrush, the soft thud of his clothes hitting the hamper.

When he emerges in just his boxers, you lift up the covers in silent invitation. He slides in behind you and tucks your body against his chest, legs tangled together.

You fit so perfectly, two puzzle pieces made for each other.

His arms wrap around you like bands of steel and you feel yourself begin to relax into him. Here, cradled against him with your legs interlocked, is the only place you’ve ever found true peace.

Max brushes his lips over your hair. “Did you miss me?” He murmurs.

You smile into the darkness. “You know I did.”

“I missed you too, schatje.” His voice is husky with fatigue. “I’m exhausted but I had to get back to take care of my girl.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace. “My hero.”

He chuckles, low and warm like honey flowing over you.

You talk softly as you both unwind from the day, voices hushed in the intimacy of the night. He tells you about the team debrief that ran late and you fill him in on the book you started today, trading thoughts and details as the fuzziness of sleep starts to seep into the she of your consciousness.

Eventually conversation tapers off, words replaced by contented silence. Max’s breathing deepens and you know he’s nearing slumber. But your mind still buzzes, body fighting against its own weariness.

You shift restlessly and Max instantly tightens his hold. “Shh I’ve got you,” he soothes. “Just try to relax.”

One large hand begins massaging gentle circles on your back and you focus on its hypnotic motion, on the sensation of his calloused fingers tracing delicate shapes.

He starts humming softly, a nameless tune that fills you with wistful melancholy. You’ve never asked where he learned it. It belongs to these fragile midnight moments, when he coaxes you to stillness with his voice and touch.

Between the comfort of his embrace and the lullaby reverberations rumbling through his chest, you finally feel sleep approaching. Your thoughts drift away until only the present remains — Max surrounding you, his warmth, his scent, the combined rhythm of your heartbeats.

Just as your heavy eyelids begin to close, Max shifts suddenly and cages you beneath him. You gasp as he presses urgent kisses under your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin.

“Max!” You squirm half-heartedly. “I was almost asleep.”

“Not quite yet, schatje. We’re not done.” His voice is gravelly with arousal that makes your belly swoop. “I need you.”

He kisses you deeply until you’re clinging to him, nails digging into the flexing muscles of his back. This man unravels you with barely a touch, your body open and pliant to him like a flower turns to the sun.

When he enters you it feels like coming home. You let out a shaky exhale, overwhelmed by the perfection of his body joining yours. This connection, this wholeness, is all you’ve ever wanted.

Max sets a slow, deep rhythm. His eyes blaze into you, grey flickering with lust and love and possession. “You’re mine,” he rasps, thrusting harder. “This is right where you belong. Under me, surrounding me, taking all of me.”

“Yes, yes I’m yours,” you gasp. The slide and drag of your bodies is maddening, tension coiling at the base of your spine.

Max grips your thigh, hooking it over his hip to drive himself deeper. “No one else gets to have you like this. You only come apart for me. I’m the only one who gets to feel you shatter.”

You cry out as he hits that perfect spot inside, stars bursting behind your eyelids. “Max, please …”

He crushes you closer, thin control fraying. “Please what? Tell me. I’ll give you anything you need.”

A particularly deep thrust wrings a wanton moan from you. You’re so close now, balanced on a knife’s edge of bliss. “Just you,” you manage to say. “I just need you.”

Max smiles, satisfied. “That’s my girl.” Then his lips slant over yours, swallowing your sobs of pleasure as his hips piston faster. The tension crests, higher and higher, until finally it breaks and you’re swept away on waves of dizzying ecstasy.

Max tenses and follows you over with a rough groan, your name a prayer on his lips. He collapses heavily against you, breath coming in harsh pants.

For long moments you just cling together, fingerprints bruising, heartbeats thundering through one another.

Eventually Max stirs, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. But he doesn’t separate your bodies. He knows you’ll rest easier staying connected, so he simply shifts just enough to take some of his weight off you.

You let out a small sigh of contentment, his warmth seeping into every inch of you like a blanket. Utterly spent and sated, you quickly begin drifting off. But before sleep claims you, Max’s quiet voice cuts through the haze.

“I’ll always come back to you. Every night, just like this. You’re my home.”

His words wrap around your heart, a vow and a lullaby in one. You manage to murmur a quiet “love you” before finally succumbing to sleep, safe in the harbor of his arms.

[moondirti]

kyle yearns for his captain's approval. you're the perfect medium through which he can secure it.

featuring: gaz x fem!reader x price. very consensual. fondling. inspection. fluff. praise kink. objectification. cucking? anal play. mentions of dp and breeding. 4k words of nonsense.

when price asks gaz if he's got anyone at home, gaz answers.

truthfully. he'd be hesitant to admit that he does to anyone else – soap especially, what with his track record of worming his way into people's pants – but his captain is... his captain. jonathan price. a real force of nature, cursed with an uncanny determinism and a habit of getting what he wants regardless of if those around him are willing. gaz knows that price will find out eventually; when the ring he's been planning to purchase for months finds it's way onto your finger, and he requests a change be made to the dependants section of his paperwork. perhaps before then too, if he really did some digging. but gaz also knows that, if there were anyone to trust with this precious knowledge, it'd be him.

so, he tells him about the little number he's got tucked away in a home in south oxfordshire. it's the lazy afternoon before a big mission, and he shouldn't be drinking but he is, a tumbler cradled between his palms and the burn of rye whiskey loosening his tongue. price doesn't speak, just listens, as the sergeant gradually devolves into more and more detail about your meeting, your courtship, the work you distract yourself with when he's not around. and despite his reverence, he admits it all breathlessly, a sheepishness pervading every word. how is he expected to keep his composure when the air is so heavy? unrelenting scrutiny and the potent waft of cigar-smoke draw a hot flush to his skin, the older man humming every so often as a prompt for him to continue.

he wants to, oddly enough. gaz is a reticent man, second only to ghost when it comes to keeping his life private. but something about this circumstance has him ready to lay it all bare. he wants to tell price about how you kiss his neck, the wicked fucking ways in which you use your mouth to milk him dry. he wants to pull out his phone, scroll through the hidden album full of pictures of your tits, of home-made films that paint you in a cum-covered, dazzling light. he wants price to know that he chose right, wants to hear the praise whispered in his ear as his captain lays a sturdy clap onto his back.

instead, he shrugs.

"not much more to tell, cap."

"damn shame." price taps his cigar to rid of the ashes. "sounds like a proper match, garrick. good for you."

and it's enough. a big enough lump of wood to keep the needy fire in his belly roaring. he shifts in his seat to dissuade the heat, rubbing his jaw in contemplation like he hasn't already thought of a perfect way to reap more.

"tell you what, sir. we survive this next assignment, i'll bring you over to meet 'er."

it's a hairbreadth escape, but they do manage to make it back alive, albeit a bit more scarred than they once were. gaz gets home late at night to find you awake, waiting on him despite the incredibly short notice he'd given you for his arrival. it's there – in the foyer, his nose buried in your neck as you babble on about how much you missed him, and what you'll make for breakfast to celebrate, and questions like hey, are you okay? that cut looks fresh or when was the last time you slept? – that he breaks the news. you'll be having his captain over for dinner in two week's time.

of course you're overjoyed. you've been begging to meet the people he risks his life with ever since he told you what he did for work. the planning is immediate. you're dumping recipes on him the next morning, asking for his opinion on what appetiser, main, and dessert your guest of honour would enjoy best. and what's his poison, anyway? i can get my hands on a nice bottle of scotch if you think it'd be worth it. kyle doesn't have the heart to tell you that nothing you'll do would matter much, that price has already taken a liking to you. besides, if anything, your homemaking ability makes him chub up in his pants. best not to rob himself of that delight.

the night arrives as quick as it had been put forward. gaz has to dodge your attempts to put a tie on him, stifles your complaints with a kiss and insists that it's not that kind of dinner party. you're confused (bless you) but flit around making last minute preparations in your bustier midi-dress anyway, kitten-heels clicking against the polished hardwood floors. at a certain point, he can tell that you're fussing over nothing and pulls you by the hand to stand by the doorway with him.

"there's something i didn't mention earlier." he whispers when you're finally settled, tucking his index finger under your chin. your brows knit anxiously. he pecks the canyons between them, stroking your bottom lip until the frazzled energy bleeds from you.

"why would you wait? there's not enough t–"

"not exactly something you can plan for, doll. s'just gonna happen." when you fail to push him for more context, he sighs. "price is expecting to see you."

"sure... that's the whole point, isn't it?"

"no, sweetheart." gaz's free hand wraps around your waist, lowering until it reaches the plush sweel of your ass. his touch lays breadcrumbs for you to follow, leading you down the very depraved path he's trekked a million times the past few weeks. "i mean all of you."

your lips part in realization. oh. he's scared straight for a second, heart hammering like it always does when he reveals a darker fantasy to you. but you merely smile – anxious, sure, pupils clouded with fresh concern, but a smile nonetheless – and accept his admission gracefully.

"and you want me to let him?"

gaz nods. "if you'd please."

you place a chaste kiss on his cheek, careful not to smear your makeup onto his clean-shaven skin. "okay."

he visibly slackens, an edge of playfulness cutting it's way back into his tone. "what's say we take those panties off, make things easier when the time arrives?"

"can' remember the last time i had a beef welly this good, love. family recipe?"

"yes, actually! but it took me some time to perfect for my own. the original called for sherry in the duxelle, but i always thought wine was better suited."

kyle doesn't know if he's ever been more proud of you.

you're a vision. the paradigm of charm. he half feared things to would be awkward following your conversation at the doorway, but aside from the first few minutes of price's arrival – the time it took everyone to thaw the ice of unfamiliarity – you've been anything but stilted. in fact, he worries that you missed the true implication of his request – of the direction things will take later – given the way you laugh openly. the ease in which you bridge conversation topics. your attentiveness, eyes roving over both your boyfriend and his captain to ensure everyone has everything they need. you certainly don't act like a girl who's going to be nakedly appraised tonight. all the expected clumsiness, the stumbling over your own words, replaced instead by eloquence and quick wit.

sweet girl. bloody... beautiful, darling girl.

price seems to think so too. he chuckles heartily at the stories you offer of kyle failing learning to waterski during your anniversary trip to mauritius (and offers his own insight too, something along the lines of how you'd expect the sergeant to be better balanced, given he's survived hanging off a helicopter before). offers some solid advice on how to deal with the ostentatious coworker whose been bugging you for months. and when you question him about his personal life – a line every good soldier knows not to take with their CO, which has gaz wincing internally – all your guest offers is a genuine, crinkle-eye smile. no doubt appreciative of the non-intrusive manner you ask.

he shoots gaz a look before answering, and it's one full of tacky warmth. a look he's seen several times on the field, molasses sweet and satisfying, one that invades his private thoughts too often to admit. whose effect he knows only comes off in a cold shower, a quick pump to his cock if you're not around to help relieve it. something like approval. unspoken praise.

"wish i could say i've been blessed like the two of ya. married to my work, m'afraid."

"oh." you wave your arms, standing to clear the table of dirty plates. "don't be ridiculous, john. you're a wonderful man. put yourself out there and i'm sure it'll come to you." you say it like it's breathing, and just as easily prance away to the kitchen, your voice losing to the clatter of silverware in the sink. thus, when you yell out something about dessert (price is really only able to decipher i made madeira! over the illegible chorus of cabinets closing) kyle is the one to answer you. well-trained in untangling your voice from any sort of ruckus, poor cell reception and moans and drunk gibberish and the obstructive fabric of his hoodie when you sob into his chest.

"maybe later, doll!" he voices back, scratching the back of his neck as he takes in the food still laid out in front of them. picked apart by hungry forks but still, enough to make up days worth of leftovers.

"mm. the girl stuffed me full, garrick." price stretches from his seat. "if i didnt know any better, i'd reckon you lot were fattening me up to feast on me come winter."

gaz stores the remains of your meal into nearby tupperwares then follows suit, urging his captain to follow him into the lounge. "please," he laughs, nodding when the man pulls a cigar from his pocket and twists it in a silent question. "she thinks they starve us out there. tries to make up for it by feedin' me into oblivion when i'm home."

"speak for yourself. i could do with a home-cooked meal every now 'n' then." the captain takes a puff of the maduro between his fingers, lets the smoke cloud his hindbrain. your house smells so much like you, like kyle and you – warm laundry and anise and jasmine – that he feels a quick lick of guilt at ruining the fragile balance of it. too little too late, too – the scent of leather and oily spice pervades the space.

but you don't mention it once you waltz back in, smoothing your hands across the back of your dress. "if we don't get a chance to try the cake tonight, remind me to send you home with some, john." gaz poorly conceals his laugh with a cough, sinking into the cushion when you shoot him an offended look. "what?"

"nothing," he pouts, then hides his next words behind the back of his hand, whispering to price. "i told you."

"i can hear you, you twat!" you flick his ear, brows furrowed in faux irritation as your boyfriend wraps an arm around your legs.

"i know! hey– i know, gorgeous. was only joking." his forehead nudges your tummy, restless until you comb your hand over his tight curls. "th'captain knows that too. isn't that right, sir?"

"of course."

"you laugh now, but wait until you're halfway through a month long mission. you'll wish you had me around!"

"don't i know it." kyle murmurs, the fingers at the back of your thigh slowly creeping upward. the skirt of your dress slips, climbs up your legs with the motion of his forearm, and all too suddenly he remembers your lack of undergarments.

fuck. he almost forget he pocketed your panties. and you... you've been so natural, such a good hostess despite the cold brush of air constantly on your cunt. it flips a primal switch inside him – that same trigger that'd prompted mention of this night in the first place. blood rushes to his cock so fast it hurts, desperation flooding his lungs until the only thing he can breathe out is your name.

"hmmm." you smile in return. and if price weren't here, he'd bury his nose into the canyon between your legs and take a deep inhale of your natural musk.

but he is, and so all gaz can manage is a quiet: "how about you show the captain our little surprise?"

"oh?" the man in question hums. dangerously relaxed, two legs spread and his posture curved as he watches the little display you put on for him. "what's this about a surprise, then?"

you bite your lip, raking your nails down from your boyfriend's neck to his shoulder and placing a tight, reassuring squeeze there before breaking away. nothing is said as you push an ottoman between price's knees, making sure it's steady before pushing him to rest against the back of the couch.

"do you like my dress?" you practically purr, bending over as to pronounce your tits. kyle's breath stutters, watching for the way superior's eyes take in your form. gratification swells in his belly when he just smiles, patting your hip.

"s'that really a question that needs to be asked, lovie? you know the answer."

an adorable mix between a shrug and giggle is all you give. "kyle says you want to see me."

"aye. i do."

"and i wanna make him happy."

"same for me."

and kyle thinks he could just cum in his pants if this keeps up. he feels filthy, both an observer and the main act in this spectacle. the knowledge that his captain doesn't just want you, the love of his life, but him too works away at him, hollowing him out until he's nothing but a husk of docile yearning.

"so, what'll it be?" you say.

"turn around. elbows on the ottoman, knees on either side of my thighs."

you obey instantly, lamplight catching the heated flush of your skin while you position yourself according to price's wishes. your back arcs so that your ass is prominently within his view, plump even beneath the loose material of your dress.

"kyle."

"sir." he coughs, shifting to conspicuously adjust the aching mass tucked in his waistband.

"on your knees, son. righ' here beside me. when i ask a question, you're expected to answer."

"yes, sir."

"got tha' that, lovie?" he grunts. "respond now, and then it's silence from you."

"okay!" you wiggle your hips, forgetting yourself for a moment. "sir!"

this gaz can do. following orders. grounded pragmatism, however far this is from a professional setting. he figures price has gleaned as much, has given him this task so he doesn't flounder off track throughout the evening and ruin things for everyone. the hard part is over then, all of that hesitant foreplay – of opening up, getting you to agree, of the stretch of time it took for everyone to warm up to one another – wrapped up for something simpler.

all he has to worry about is answering promptly and correctly while he watches his captain–

flip your skirt over your hips.

a low whistle. then, two hands on your backside, kneading the soft flesh there. working either globe apart like dough, the glistening seam of your most private parts spread open to prying eyes. price appraises your cunt for the first time like he would a winning showdog, or the sky on a particularly pleasant day. all utilitarian-like. if it weren't for the bulge in his trousers, your boyfriend would almost be offended.

"no panties, hm?"

"no-" you start, squeaking out an apology when you earn a firm swat to your thigh.

"i asked her to go without them tonight. thought... you'd appreciate it, sir." kyle replies, swallowing the saliva that arises upon seeing your lips flutter.

"good lad." a hot flash of arousal breaks across his chest. the captain lets go of his grip on your ass, watching how the fat jiggles back into place, then returns to squeezing it. "surprised i couldn't smell 'er, way she was dancing around us all night."

it isn't a question, so gaz stays quiet.

the groping continues. sometimes its light – brushes of calloused palms across the area, disturbing the stillness like a rock skipping over water. you ripple when he pokes, shake when he taps. other times, and increasingly once price notes your resilience to pain, it borders on rough. moulding your flesh into compact pinches, jabbing his thumb into the softness so hard it'll bruise. you take it all with grace, a low whine building in your chest that he let's go unpunished.

"she's taking this well. you rough her up often?"

"when she asks, sir." he thinks for a moment, catching your wily smile from the corner of his eye. minx. "likes it more than i do giving it to her."

"need someone to take care of the both of ya." price chuckles, then moves on, oblivious to the way the sergeant's hips buck at his implication. or, maybe he notices – probably does – and stores it away for another time. "looks like a greedy little pussy to me." his thumbs hook onto either side of your labia, pulling it apart like fresh bed to reveal the sloppy mess between. your clit is enflamed, angry for being neglected for so long. if you were allowed to speak, kyle can guarantee with almost a hundred percent certainty that you'd be whining to be touched. "look a' tha'." price's accent grows thicker. "fat little thing just jumping for attention."

he curls a finger, then flicks the swollen bud. a loud moan bursts from you, your face falling between your forearms as you hold yourself back from begging. gaz would've acquiesced by now, would've rubbing the bundle of nerves raw the second you fanned your pretty lashes up at him.

but price snaps it three more times in rapid succession, which apparently is too much for you to handle because you yell. "p-please!"

he remedies your slip up with a slap to the same area. the crack on impact echoes long enough to tell him that one hurt. "shhh. so spoiled, sergeant. how often do you make her cum?"

"a-at least three times a go, sir."

"what's the record?"

"eight."

"and the longest you've held off?"

kyle hesitates, bowing his head for the reprimand he knows is coming. "never... never tried. sir."

"tch."

a precision blow. swift but petrifying. the captain's managed to find both your loose strings in a matter of minutes, tugging to see them come undone on his lap. gaz has got the unwavering urge to rest his chin on his strong thigh, put it on the record that he isn't weak willed, just indulgent. something that can be easily remedied, with his guidance. if he'd let him.

and you...

you're gyrating your hips, begging for some pressure on your aching centre. price gives it to you, though not in the way you expect, pinching your clit and tightening his hold until you're motionless, muscles trembling but otherwise perfectly poised.

so the inspection continues. he fans out your vulva, exposing the hole that clenches around nothing. a laugh wracks his frame at the sight, the aftermath of it husky. amused. "begging to be filled, a'right. how many cocks has she had in 'ere?"

"just mine, sir. and her toys."

"how about at once?"

kyle's never been so bold with you; has always held back that godless part of him, that needy dog he sees his comrades often embrace. pure, unfettered degeneracy. you're soft, and pretty and good and a high-functioning member of society. and he's never once wanted to see you hurt, uncomfortable or bite-mark-bloodied, despite the way his mind screams at him to at least ask. see if you'd be willing to appease that side of him.

yet you visibly shiver at the thought proposed by price, gooseflesh pocking your skin, and he knows he should have thrown caution to the wind.

"one, sir."

he watches the man's finger outline the circumference of your opening, dipping in by the millimetre to test the waters. "shame. could probably stretch her out. get 'er nice and loose for whenever you wan' something to keep you warm without the commitment."

the finger plunges in.

gaz watches you swallow his superior to the last knuckle in what must be a world-record, no time to blink lest he misses it. price goes with the motion, setting his free hand onto your ass to keep you steady as he wiggles his digit to make space amidst the tight embrace of your walls. or, that's what he thinks is happening. the only indication he has of things are the lewd squelches your cunt emits and the face of pure ecstasy you pull. but he's well-versed enough in your bodily functions that he's sure of his estimate.

"scratch wha' i said. nothing beats this." his superior groans, and for the first time that night, adjusts himself in his pants. kyle wishes he would pull it out, allow himself the relief of freeing a raging hard-on from its confines. but kyle also wishes that he could be given something to do, something with his mouth perhaps, to sate the unaddressed thrill in his bones. it wouldn't take a smart man to figure out that both wishes are very much correlated. "fucking suffocating clutch. wouldn' pull out if my life depended on it. pussy like this isn' made for that, garrick."

"sir?"

"you cum inside her, lad?"

"i- yes. i-i do. she's on birth control."

"best to see to that, then." he says, like the contraceptive is an obstacle and not a consolation. you release another, long-winded moan, to which price pulls his finger out to pat your vulva. like taming a wild animal. "though what i said still stands. could always do with a loose hole."

his hand inches up.

this time, it's gaz who groans.

loudly. his eyes fluttering halfway shut, hands tugging at the tight fabric over his groin. you throw a curious look over your shoulder, concern glossing your pupils until you confirm that the source of the sound isn't pain, but pleasure. ecstasy at finally having his wants vocalised, that incessant impulse that nags and nags and nags anytime he's fucking you from behind, tight rim practically leering up at him, tempting him to thrust upwards and 'accidentally' slip in.

"you like that, sergeant? hm? ever use this asshole? it looks unbroken to me."

"y-you're... not wrong, sir. i–"

"but you want to?" he finishes for him, scooping some of the abundant slick from your cunt and slathering it onto your back entrance. it's not enough lubrication to do anything but press one thumb in, but he repeats the process to push the other in alongside it.

"yeah."

you give him a look that can't mean anything except we'll talk about this later and he can bloody kiss price if he was given permission to, if not for anything but helping him open this impossible subject with you.

"we'll see to tha' some other day, then."

his thumbs retreat. your hole winks shut again. gaz is torn between looking at you or his captain, but the latter man robs him of the indecision by bringing his dominant index and middle fingers to his lips. they're shiny with the remnants of your fluids, as if he needed any incitement to wrap his mouth around the digits. he works at them until price's fingers prune, laving his tongue around the knuckles, against the nail beds, all the way through to the fold of skin between them.

so desperate to please, to see to it that 'some other day' is everyday henceforth.

a future with price by your sides. beyond just the field. the bite in your supple existence. spice supporting anise and jasmine, some aphrodisiac blend that'll carry you through to the end of your lives, happy. sated. a mediator. commander. captain. his captain.

"that's a good boy."

he could really get used to this.

[connorsui]

“Believing in love”

Sylus x fem! reader

Synopsis: Amidst the dazzling lights of a futuristic city, you confront your fears of love

Genre/warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, soft sylus, reader who doesn't believe in the concept of love, emotional trauma, vulnerability, discussions of betrayal, past trauma for reader, sylus just wants to love you for you and nothing else, hurt/Comfort, emotional healing, small fluff, slow burn, hints of trust issues

Note: okaaayyyyyyy I went overboard this was originally going to be a short imagine ..like maybe five hundred words or less with the concept: “I don't believe in love” and “I'll show you what it can be” – I wasn't planning on this to be a full fledged one shot…but hey …I ain't gonna complain any further my brain is just doing its job ✨️

w.c: 1.8K

The city hums beneath you, a symphony of noise and light, but your mind is far from the chaos below. You keep your gaze fixed on the skyline, as if it holds the answers you can’t seem to find. Beside you, Sylus’ breath is ragged, his desperation barely concealed as he clings to your wrist. You can feel the tremble in his fingers despite the firmness of his grip, as though he’s trying to hold you together—or perhaps, to keep you from drifting away.

“Why do you always attempt to leave me? What is it that I’m doing wrong?” His voice is soft, almost pleading, a rare break in his usually stoic demeanor. He’s searching your face for something—anything—but you remain still, letting the weight of his words hang in the air.

He clutches you tighter, not forcefully, but in a way that tells you he’s afraid you might vanish into the night, just like the countless times before. The emptiness in your silence gnaws at him, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything.

“Sweetheart…” His voice cracks, the word nearly lost in the wind. “I’m not one to beg, but if it means I’ll get an answer from you, then I’ll lower myself.”

You glance down as you hear the rustle of fabric, your eyes catching the sight of Sylus sinking to one knee. A proud man, reduced to pleading. The weight of his devotion presses down on you, suffocating in ways you hadn’t expected.

“I wish for an answer. Any answer from you.”

But still, you say nothing. The flood of emotions you’ve buried for so long stirs within you, threatening to overwhelm. The city lights blur in your vision, turning into a kaleidoscope of glowing orbs, and suddenly, your throat tightens. You want to speak, but the words are tangled in your chest, caught in the rising tide of emotion.

“It’s… it’s not that I wish to ignore everything you’ve done,” you start, your voice shaky and weak, barely audible over the rushing wind. “It doesn’t mean I hate you, or that you're not trying hard enough. I care for you. I do.”

Your breath hitches, your heart pounding against your ribs, as tears, hot and unrelenting, streak down your face.

“I want to love you, Sylus. I want to be near you every day, to feel what it means to love someone, to truly understand it. But I…” Your voice cracks, the word foreign on your tongue. Your chest tightens, the familiar sting of betrayal flashing in your mind, the memories you’ve fought so hard to suppress now rushing back in vivid detail.

Before you can break down any further, Sylus pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you like a shield from the world. His warmth seeps into you, steadying you amidst the storm inside.

“Shhh… it’s alright. Come here.”

His voice is soothing, and for a moment, you let yourself relax in his hold. You breathe out slowly, though each exhale feels labored. Your chest rises and falls as you try to calm the sobs threatening to tear through you. His hands gently cradle your face as he wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, his touch delicate but firm, as if assuring you he won’t let go.

“I’m scared…” Your words spill out between quiet gasps, your chest heaving as you finally let out the weight you’ve carried for so long. “I’m so scared, Sylus. I’ve loved before, countless times… and neither time was it ever given back.”

Sylus' embrace tightens, his chin resting atop your head as he rocks you gently. His voice, though calm, carries a raw edge of determination, as though he’s willing his words into reality.

“I can show you what it can be,” he whispers against your ear. “I’ll show you what love should feel like, what it should be… No one in this entire city is more deserving of that than you.”

His hand rests against your back, moving in slow, soothing circles.

“I just need you to believe in me. let me show you that I can give you the love you’ve been searching for.”

You close your eyes, the weight of his words settling into your chest, pushing against the wall you’ve built around your heart. For a moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing, the quiet murmur of the city below, and the cold wind that carries the scent of the night sky. Moonlight bathes the two of you, casting silver across the rooftop as if the world has stilled for this one moment.

And though the fear still lingers at the edges of your mind, something shifts within you. Perhaps it’s the warmth of his touch, or the sincerity in his voice. But for the first time, you allow yourself to believe in the possibility.

Yet he keeps himself steady, his grip tightens—not out of force, but from desperation, as if he’s holding on to more than just your body. He’s holding on to the very idea of you, of the two of you.

“I don’t need you to say you love me, not now, not in this hour, not tomorrow” he murmurs into your hair. “I just need you to trust that I will. That I already do.”

His words pierce through the walls you’ve spent so long building. The fortress around your heart cracks, letting in the first tendrils of warmth you’ve felt in ages. You try to push him away, afraid of being vulnerable, but his hold remains firm—not possessive, just secure. Safe.

“But Sylus—” you whisper between breaths, your voice breaking.

“I’m not like you. I don’t know how to—how to do this. Every time… I let someone in, they ripped pieces out of me until there was nothing left to give...so, even if you say you love me… what can I give you..when there's nothing? ”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. His red eyes soften, the intensity that so often burned with dominance now a smoldering ember of understanding.

“You think there’s nothing left to give,” he murmurs, “but every broken piece of you is still yours to offer. And I’ll take them, even if they don’t fit together perfectly. I don’t care if you feel shattered. I’ll hold onto every fragment until you’re ready to trust me with the rest.”

Your chest heaves as you fight for control over your emotions, but the more you resist, the harder it becomes. Sylus’s steady gaze undoes you. How could someone like him—so powerful, so untouchable—look at you as if you were the most fragile thing in the universe?

“ — and yet there will be days you think I don’t know fear?” he continues, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “You think I don’t wonder every day if I’m enough for you? That I’ll lose you before you ever truly belonged to me?”

The vulnerability in his words makes you flinch. You’ve seen Sylus command entire fleets, face enemies without a trace of fear, and yet here he is, baring himself before you. It’s too much—too raw. But it’s also exactly what you needed to hear.

“I’m not a perfect man, and I won’t pretend I am," he adds. "But I will never stop trying for you. Not for a second or an hour or a day of my life"

His thumb brushes the last of your tears away, and for a moment, all that exists is the sound of the wind whipping around you, the lights of the city flickering beneath your feet, and the quiet hum of your hearts—one racing, the other steady.

You finally exhale, the weight of your emotions loosening its grip just enough for you to speak again.

“What if I’m broken?” you choke out. “What if there’s nothing left that is untouched for you to love?”

Sylus’s lips quirk into a sad but tender smile.

“It doesn't matter if any part of you is left …untouched ” he says softly. “When I mean I would love ..you ..I mean you .. Every part of you…that I have fallen in love with”

His words settle into you like a balm, soothing wounds you didn’t realize were still bleeding. You’ve spent so long believing that love was something to fear, something that would eventually turn on you and leave you empty. But Sylus is showing you a different kind of love—one that doesn’t demand perfection but offers patience. One that doesn’t expect you to be whole but promises to stay, even when you’re not.

Your body, tense and guarded for so long, begins to relax in his arms. You close your eyes and lean into him fully for the first time, allowing yourself to be held—not because you’re weak, but because, for once, you don’t have to be strong.

You stay like that for what feels like hours, wrapped up in each other as the city continues its ceaseless rhythm below. The cold air bites at your skin, but neither of you care. Not when the warmth of Sylus’s embrace keeps the rest of the world at bay.

Eventually, you speak again, your voice quieter, more vulnerable than before.

“I don’t know how to let go” you admit.

Sylus shifts slightly, enough to look into your eyes again.

“And, you don’t have to,” he replies. “I’m not asking you to forget anything that has happened to you then or anything that has happened to you in the months or years away. I just wish for you to allow me to be part of your future.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t pull away this time. Instead, you let the weight of his words sink in. He isn’t asking for grand promises or declarations. He’s asking for a chance—a chance to be the person you turn to, the one who stays when others would leave.

“Would you allow me?” Sylus asks softly, almost pleading.

“Can you let me in?”

There’s a long pause as the world around you holds its breath. Then, finally, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice trembling. “I’ll try.”

And with that, the dam inside you breaks. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you can learn to love again.

Sylus would show you how much you mean to him ..✨️

[draconic-desire]

Ad Experimentum

Yandere Dr. Ratio x Reader

Veritas catches you reading one of your dirty books.

Warnings: Implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, NSFW scenes being read aloud, Dr. Ratio being a dick as always

Within the confines of Veritas’s home, you feel like a mouse in a maze, reduced to a caged animal, always under scrutiny and experimentation.

Escape is impossible. Dr. Ratio has ensured that you’re never out of his reach, even though he acts as if you are the burden and he didn’t kidnap you and imprison you in his home. Sometimes you wonder why he even keeps you; surely he has better things to do than to quip at your inadequacy or lack of genius. But alas, the pretentious prick seems keen on pushing every one of your buttons to see how you tick. You might even call it intimacy if he wasn’t so clinical and judgmental about it all.

Because physical escape is impossible, you’ve turned to escaping within the confines of your own mind.

Books provided the perfect retreat. You’ve since abandoned any non-fiction to focus on fantasy, to worlds that effortlessly whisk you away. Novels that depict true, romantic love, not the twisted ownership you’ve grown used to. Like you’re some pet to be controlled and prodded at, like Pavlov’s dog, waiting and drooling for its master’s hand at the ring of a bell.

So, in your hopes to feel something real, you’ve started to delve into stories that are a bit…spicier.

With the latest read in your hand, your eyes skim hungrily over the pages as the tension between the protagonists builds. The lovers begin to undress each other, the one spreading his partner’s pussy as she grinds into his hand—

Veritas effortlessly plucks the book from your hands, earning a cry of protest. You try to snatch it back, but, with the help of his towering height, he dangles it just out of reach. “What in the heavens is this?”

The way he holds the book between his thumb and pointer finger, as if merely touching it would taint his self-proclaimed perfect set of knowledge, was almost comedic. You would laugh if he wasn’t such a condescending asshole.

Instead, you scowl. “Give it back.”

He merely hums and turns the novel in his hands, inspecting the cover. Licking his thumb, he flips to your bookmarked page and begins reading aloud. “My hand caressed her core as I speared her with two, thick fingers. She moaned and arched into my palm in response, causing my cock to twitch in anticipation. God, I wanted to taste her arousal. Her pussy was perfect, so wet and tight and ready for me to claim, to fuck.”

Embarrassment rages across your cheeks like a burn. You fling yourself at him, pounding your fists against his chest when he lifts the book out of your reach easily. “Stop, just stop.”

Amused, Dr. Ratio continues to narrate the scene in painstaking detail. “I lowered my head, letting my tongue swirl around her clit and rendering her voice to nothing but pitiful mewls. She tasted like heaven, like my own personal feast. I buried my tongue in her, then, and held her hips as she bucked into my mouth, begging for release—”

“I will do anything,” you beg, face in your palms, “just please stop.”

Finally, mercifully, Veritas closes the book and lowers it down enough for you to snatch it back. You cradle it against your chest, heart pounding and palms sweaty with a chaotic blend of shame, anger, and relief that it was over.

“This is what you indulge in while I’m working? Though you are hardly an intellectual exception, I believed you to be above this brain-rotting nonsense, (Y/n).”

In spite of your embarrassment, you boldly meet his golden eyes. “And what do you care? I enjoy it, and it’s not meant for you. Go stick your nose in a dictionary for all I care.”

“At least I’d be learning something,” he sneers in return, looking down his nose at you. He sniffs, tilting his chin up. “What do those books have that I can’t offer you?”

You still, observing his features. Now that the fun of teasing you has worn off, his eyes flare with loathing. With a jolt, you realize it is not aimed at you but at…the book?

Wordlessly, you glance between Dr. Ratio and your novel. Then, a stilted laugh escapes your lips. “Wait.. Are you seriously jealous of a book?”

“Don’t be preposterous,” he scoffs, though you notice his white-knuckled grip against the back of the armchair you were previously lounging in. “I would never stoop so low as to associate myself with that plebeian filth. I simply wanted to ascertain your reaction to it being read aloud.”

You resist the desperate urge to roll your eyes. “Fine, then. Please leave me to my uneducated filth.” You spin around, intent on finding a new place to finish your reading.

“Not so fast.” Veritas is on you quicker than a cobra, large hands gripping both your shoulders. “Perhaps all is not lost. We may yet transform this circumstance into an educational opportunity for you.”

A chill runs down your spine at the heavy touch, and a sudden sense of foreboding warns you to run. You’re all too aware you’re the mouse being fed to the snake in this moment.

Veritas spins you to face him, eyes slowly trailing down your form, as if taking you in with a new perspective. “I believe an experiment is due.”

You go rigid. “I’m sorry?”

“If you’re so intent on reading about all those fantasies in your books, let’s go ahead and put them to the test, shall we?”

At his clear implication, you yelp and make a run for it. In that moment Veritas strikes, fisting your hair with one hand and cupping your chin with the other as he presses your body flush against his own. You can already feel his hard desire digging into your back.

“Here’s my hypothesis,” he purrs in your ear. “I predict that by the end of tonight, you too will be begging for my cum, whether you want to or not.”

His theory, as always, was proven to be correct.

[miyamoratsumuu]

fluffy tenya iida headcanons mmmaybe? kind of like the moodboards you made (those were SO GOOD)

dating the mha boys, with moodboards, pt. 2!!

pt. 1

characters: h. shinsou, t. iida, s. todoroki a/n: u ask and I deliver, anon! I apologize that this took so long as well. and thanku so so muchh!! I hope you enjoyed the other moodboards as well as this one<3 note: quirkless au (?)/no quirks are mentioned, implied fem partner for all of them, lowercase intended. pictures used are not mine, all of them are found on pinterest!!:) not proofread yet 🙇🏼‍♀️

please see the guidelines for requesting if you'd like to request as well!! navigation . . . mha masterlist

SHINSOU HITOSHI "doll, you know I hold you closest to my heart. always."

before you guys started dating you had no idea hitoshi had any feelings for you, let alone romantic feelings. you guys weren't the closest of friends, though you tended to be in each other's company from time to time. mostly when your other friends are around, but there are rare occasions where it was just the two of you.

he's liked you for a while, though like I said, you had no idea because he didn't show any sign of it at all. he treated you like he did with any of his other female friends/classmates. he consistently spoke to you with that monotone voice of his, keeping his personal space to himself when with you, and only messaged you when it was necessary.

don't be fooled, though. while he was confessing to you, he was a blushing, flustered, stuttering mess. after class, he had pulled you aside and asked you to take a walk with him around campus. when you reached the small garden behind the main building, he gently grabbed your arm and pulled you to face him. right when you turned to look at him, the tips of his ears were already red. the moment he started to speak, his words weren't coming out as he wanted to, his palms were sweaty, and his cheeks got redder and redder by the second. and the rest was history.

hitoshi isn't really the shy type, but he isn't as outgoing as eijiro or denki either. he wasn't totally against pda, but he wasn't big about it too. when the two of you are in public, the most pda you could get out of him was hand holding, touches on the waist or arm, and quick kisses. most of the time, while walking in public, your hands would be intertwined while you walked right beside each other.

when it's crowded up to the point you can't really walk directly side by side anymore, he would still be holding one or both of your hands with both of his, behind his back, while you walked and followed right behind him, letting him guide the both of you toward where you were going.

his amount and limit of physical touch does a 180 when the two of you are hidden from the public eye though. when it's completely just the two of you, hitoshi loves having you around his arms, his face buried in your hair, and your arms wrapped around him as well. on the days he wants to be the one that's held specifically, your hand would be in his hair, the other cradling his head, while his own hands are on your waist.

most days, you'd find hitoshi woken up early (or he decided to get up early since he couldn't get any sleep at all), in the kitchen, and making the both of you coffee. or if you didn't drink coffee, he'd be making your preferred drink. although on the days that both of you had woken up later during the morning and running late to wherever you had to be that day, you two would pick up your drinks from the cafe nearby or on the way to where you needed to be.

since hitoshi isn't big on pda, he had other ways to subtly show others that you're his, and he's yours. your phones would have a matching sticker, you'd have matching rings that you wear on your finger, while hitoshi has his on a chain that he wears as a necklace. you teased him with a smirk, saying "it's because it'd be closer to your heart, isn't it?" he never really thought of it that way, if he was being honest with you. but ever since you said that, that's how he looked at it ever since.

you often sent hitoshi pictures as 'updates' of how your day was going. sometimes sending him a picture of the beautiful garden you were in, the cute cat that was beside the door of the cafe you entered, or the breathtaking sunset at the beach you happened to pass by. though every single time, he managed to find a way to turn the situation around, and compliment you instead of the what ever you just sent. it never fails to paint a smile on your face every time, though.

despite his unruly hair, I have a pretty strong belief that hitoshi knows how to style hair. or at the very least knows how to properly use a straightener, curler, and a brush/comb, of course. especially after spending so much time with eri. so in the mornings when you could take your sweet time getting ready for the day ahead of you, hitoshi would be assisting you with fixing up your hair. while you were doing your make up/skin care routine in front of the mirror, he would be behind you with either a curler or straightener, depending on which you wanted to use for that day, and a comb right beide the sink.

on the nights the two of you were apart, you would facetime each other until one or both of you fell asleep. most of the time though, when one of you ended up falling asleep, the other would still stay in the call, the fact that one was asleep giving the feel that the two of you were in the same room together. the both of you ending up falling asleep on call together.

IIDA TENYA "I'd do anything and everything for you, my dear."

you had an inkling that tenya had the slightest of romantic feelings for you before he himself even knew. I won't sugarcoat it, the guy was clueless about his own feelings at first. no one else other than ochako and izuku knew either, though. everyone else in the class thought tenya was just being his responsible self as a class president when he always offered to help you with after class assignments, constantly checked up on you first after a mission, and was always the first to commend you after a successful training/sparring session. he always made sure to ask the others as well after you, though, so they didn't think much of it. for a while, at least.

but ochako and izuku were the complete opposite. as they watched one of their closest friends give you all this special treatment but still doesn't come to the conclusion that he looks at you in a more than platonic way at this point. it was painful for them, and they knew they had to do something. well, at least ochako did. izuku hesitated at first, not wanting to make his friend uncomfortable, but ochako talked him into it anyway.

a few days later, they had a long talk with tenya. and i mean a long talk. they made sure there were no after school training or homework given the day they went to talk to him so that they had all the time in the world to help him set his feelings straight.

after that day, tenya felt like someone took his used, blurry glasses from him, replaced the lenses with new, clean ones, and gave it back to him. he quite literally woke up with a fresh perspective. he... liked you? like that? he felt lost in a way. yeah, he knew what a crush was, he wasn't that unknowledgeable. but he didn't really know where to go from there. though after a few more talks with ochako and izuku, he knew how to make his move. the only problem left was how to execute it.

one day after class, he waited for all of his classmates to leave the classroom. except you, of course. you were one of the last to leave, staying behind to properly pack your books that izuku borrowed and conveniently returned right after your teacher dismissed you. plus the fact that when everyone else was starting to leave the classroom, ochako immediately went to you, asking questions about your most previous lessons, making you not able to quickly pack up your things inside your bag.

when the two of you were the only ones left in the classroom, he stood up from his seat, walking towards you at the other side of the room, still properly placing your books inside your bag. there, tenya formally confessed his feelings for you, even though he himself just 'found out' about it. he made sure you were comfortable enough for him to keep going, so he did. he asked you out on a date, specifically at friday night that week, and asked you to not worry about the details like transportation, price of the location, etc. everything else he told you was about the dress code of the location, and what you could expect from the date itself.

he got so caught up in explaining the details to you that he never even got to hear your answer of whether you would go out with him or not. he didn't have to worry though, of course you said yes after he was done talking.

your guys' first date wasn't the only fancy date you ever had. further into the relationship, tenya almost spoiled you with the amount of formal dates he took you on. he was always the one to pay too, ofc course. there were occasions though that you weren't in the mood to spend your time with him at a fancy restaurant, so the both of you opted to either stay at home and watch whatever's on tv, or go on a more casual date to the mall, or a park.

tenya's a gentleman at heart, with the help of his older brother. every date you guys go on, whether it be formal or casual, he always had a bouquet of flowers in hand when he picked you up. he always makes sure to get your favourite flowers, most of the time in your favourite color as well. but from time to time, he likes to switch it up so your full bouquet wasn't so monochromatic.

like I said, before the two of you started dating, tenya constantly offered to help you with homework, or at least to study for an upcoming test. that didn't change even after you guys became official. the two of you spent nights together, both of your eyes fixated on the words your textbooks had to offer. if there was a topic you didn't quite understand, tenya was right beside you to help you with that. if he wasn't too familiar with the topic as well, don't worry. you'll study the topic together, helping each other by pinpointing information the other has missed.

despite mostly going to formal restaurants on your dates, tenya likes 'walking' dates as well. like a walk in the park, going to an amusement park, an aquarium, etc. and during the days that you quickly got tired while walking, or so your feet did, tenya is quick to pick you up and carry you. with your consent, of course. your bag would be on his left shoulder, and if you wanted to take off your shoes, they'd be hald by the fingers of his right hand.

tenya does the MOST when it comes to showing and proving to you that he could treat you right. after hero missions where the teo of you are assigned to that mission together specifically, he lets you rest your head on his shoulder despite not being too fond of pda. he's even willing to slouch slightly for you if you don't reach his shoulder with his usual posture. when he picks you up for your dates, he hands you your bouquet of flowers as usual but never forgets to gently take hold of your hand and place a kiss on your knuckles.

there are times when he's a tiny bit too strict on you when it comes to sleep schedules, and eating your meals on time, even though you try to convince him that you could handle sleeping a little later than usual, and that you just had something important to finish, that's why you weren't able to eat dinner last night. he does it out of love, though, so you don't mind.

TODOROKI SHOTO "my love, you mean more to me than any amount of money could."

unlike tenya, shoto knew he started to develop more than platonic feelings for you after months of the two of you spending time together with your other friends. sometimes, it was just the two of you. he wasn't as obvious with his feelings as tenya, though, because he really didn't know what to do about them. yeah, fuyumi told him about how the whole having a crush on someone thing works, but he never was really informed on what to do when he did have some sort of puppy crush on someone. let alone someone that he knew meant a lot to him.

his older sister's the first person he'd think of to come to to ask about something like this, but he knew she was busy with work this time of year. so his second option was between izuku or momo. izuku was busy with whatever all might put him up to, so he opted to reach out to momo.

shoto was mostly straightforward with telling momo about his situation. she was shocked at first, not expecting one if not the most aloof classmate of hers would be coming to her for advice about their love life. she hadn't expected shoto of all people to develop a crush at all!

nonetheless, she helped shoto with his predicament, answering his questions he seemed to be intent on getting answers to, and helped him come up with some sort of plan to let you know about his feelings, and eventually formally ask you out.

when the day came of him confessing to you and asking you to go on a date with him the weekend that week, the whole thing threw you off. first off, THE shoto todoroki liked you? as more than just a friend? and second, he was calm and unbothered the whole time. yeah, you knew how shoto was in general, his cool demeanour being a staple part of him. but you never thought someone could be so nonchalant while confessing to the person they had romantic feelings for. nevertheless, though, you agreed. having reciprocated his feelings, of course.

shoto opted to take you on dates that required him to spend money. endeavour provided shoto a card that's connected to his bank account, clearly warning that it was only for emergencies, since shoto was already given his own allowance from time to time. (we all know shoto disregarded that warning, though), and so he loved to spoil you with that card! whether it be on restaurant dates or mall dates where you insisted on only window shopping but shoto says otherwise. it doesn't matter if you looked at the silliest things for more than a split second, shoto already has his wallet or the card out to buy it for you. hence, you returning home with a balloon almost half your size one night when you were out with shoto the whole day.

he loves to gift you the best of the best clothes, jewellery, bags, and a lot more too. after some time, you started to feel guilty about the amount of money he spent for you. he always reassured you that it's what he wants to do, wanting to give you only the best of the best, always.

despite the fancy gifts and formal dinner dates, shoto never fails to give you all the time he has in the world. (at least when he's not too busy, of course) he would offer to give you his assistance on the smallest of things. if there was a spider on the side of the toilet in the bathroom, he'll already be there swatting it away. there are times that you forget where you set down some of your things, like your laptop charger, your house keys, or the earrings you wore to an event the other way. but don't fret, shoto (somehow) always knows where you put them down, and he's already handing them to you. he loves to help you study for a test or just helping you with tasks. as well. it makes him feel like you know you could rely on him even with these kinds of situations.

like tenya, shoto always has a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand when he picks you up on dates. only on formal dates, though, he opted to give you different small things on your more casual dates. considering the number of restaurant dates you went on, you'd think you'd be used to wearing high heels for more than a few hours already. but boy, that wasn't the case. they still killed your feet after at least an hour and a half of wearing them. you always ended up taking them off once you got out of the doors of the restaurant you were in.

the first time you did this, shoto was puzzled. he knew high heels weren't the most comfortable pair of shoes to wear, but he never expected you to just take them off out on the street and insist on wearing barefoot. he had offered you his shoes, but you said you didn't want him wearing barefoot, but he insisted on you taking them. he had socks on, anyway. he made a mental note about that after that day.

the next restaurant dates you two went on, shoto made sure to bring a pair of slippers with him when he picked you up. you didn't know where he put them either. he wasn't the type to bring bags wherever he went. but he did anyway, and every time you two stepped out of the restaurant, he handed them to you and got down on one knee to begin taking your heels off. while waiting for your ride home, your hands were intertwined, his free one holding your heels while you wore the slippers he conveniently always brings.

after either of you had a long day, you'd always end up in each other's arms that night. when you seeked for his company, shoto's ready to welcome you into his arms, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, and wrapping his arms around you, like he was shielding you from the rest of the world. when shoto was tired, he loved to have his head on either your chest or your lap, while your hands gently played with his hair. he hummed at your touch, feeling safer than ever when he's with you. and you felt the same.

shoto had trouble understanding and following social cues, but he's always and forever more than willing to try, for you. you helped him out every step of the way, too, of course. and he wasn't the best at showing it, but he loved you. like a whole lot. and he'd never let you think otherwise.

[sunnie-angel]

Sunnie!! I am insane over this concept of Jason marveling over how sensitive his partner is... and now I'm thinking about Jason being feral when he returns from patrol and NEEDING to bury his face between their legs. All he wants is to make them feel good. Oh also, breastplay. I know in my heart he likes his mouth occupied <3

Yes! Yes! Like Jason loves fucking his partner, that’s a given. But as soon as he finds out just how sensitive they are? Well his new favourite place is with his head buried between their thighs seeing how many times he can make them come on his tongue, then his fingers, and only then his cock. (He’ll mix up the order sometimes but he’s pretty set in his routine). Also? When your thighs are wrapped around his ears and he can only taste you, when his fingers are occupied with curling just the way you like and pinning you down so you stop squirming too much, Jason can block out the whole world. It’s a particularly handy trick when patrol doesn’t go so well and all he wants is to block out the world by drowning himself in you. On those nights he likes to make it a competition to see just how many more times than last time he can make you come.

Jason has eating you out down to an exact science. He knows when to give you flat broad strokes of his tongue and exactly how much suction on your clit sends you over the edge. How many fingers to give you before the stretch gets overwhelming and he can feel you spasming. Knows exactly how to walk you right up to the edge of orgasm before pulling away and making you swear in frustration. He’ll push you over the cliff’s edge so many times your thighs will be soaked with it and he’ll still know exactly how to keep you begging for more. When your thighs are trembling and you’re riding that knife’s edge of overstimulation and pleasure, that’s when he knows you’re almost ready for his cock. He won’t give it to you yet though, wants to wait until he’s got you pliant and begging to be fucked even though you were squealing about it being all too much moments ago.

No, what he does next is become gentle. Moves up your body to mouth at your breasts. His chin is obscenely wet, smears of your slick making your breasts shine from where he devours them. Takes his time with biting and sucking at each breast, catching a nipple between his teeth before soothing the sting with a drag of his tongue. Kneading the other breast with a large scarred hand so it doesn’t feel lonely. All the while he’s sliding his cock through the mess you’ve made between your thighs, the tip just catching but not going in any further. Slow maddening strokes a background to the attention he’s paying your chest but driving you mad all the same.

Finally, finally when you’re coming apart at the seams pleading with him to finally make you full, does he relent. Sucking hickies into the soft flesh of your breast he’ll slide in. And because he knows you so well, he’ll have you right where he wants you. Uncertain of if you want to pull him closer or push him away. The scrape of teeth and the pleasure pain of being stretched full almost too much to process. Punched out breaths turning to high pitched whines as you cling to him, cradle his head to your chest and let him take control of you pleasure until there’s stars behind your eyelids and you can’t feel anything beyond Jason.

Jason takes a lot of pleasure in just how sensitive you are after you’ve come for him too. He enjoys how even the gentlest featherlight stroke of your thigh sets you twitching. How the aloe gel he rubs into your sore breasts makes you murmur and squirm at the sensation. Even when the main event is over, there’s a thousand ways for Jason to play with your sensitivity and he’s not in the habit of denying himself your pleasure.

[astraystayyh]

seungmin thinks you’re the prettiest at your most ordinary. fluff and softness. pre-established relationship. (happy (very late) birthday to youuu my @starsandrqindrops i love u 💓)

there is an uncharacteristic tiredness that’s weighing on seungmin’s bones, making the mere act of moving his limbs draining. a faint headache pulsates from the base of his temple, and he shuts his eyes closed, forcing darkness to surround his senses, hoping that it’ll muffle the ache latching to his being.

but what soothes his senses is the sound of running water, more so the knowledge that you are near, just out of reach. you’ll come out soon of the shower and seungmin will be okay.

he doesn’t voice these thoughts to you as you come into the room, towel in hand as you dry your hair, clad in one of his old t-shirts. but his body seems to speak for him, eyes snapping open at the sound of you padding to the bed, spine readjusting so he’d sit against the headboard, eager to look at you more intently.

“tired?” you ask, planting a kiss on his temple before retrieving your hair bush from the bedside drawer. the pain in his head subsides, your existence the antidote for all his ailments.

“no, how was your day?” he asks softly, his warm palm resting on your bare knee. you quickly glance at him, at the way his eyebrows scrunch together ever so slightly, as if begging you to speak, to weave the dreadful silence with your sweet voice.

“it was good, i tried a new restaurant today,” you speak gently, combing slowly through your hair.

“yeah, what is it called?” he says, thumb circling your soft skin. he is no longer angry at the light, for it highlights every contour of your features. he no longer yearns for the dark, as in its absence he gets to see you. in all your ordinary glory.

and you look so beautiful.

“blossom, they have the cutest pastries. i think you’d really like their cheesecake. it’s decorated with edible flowers. and their coffee is to die for,” you recall excitedly, your eyes locking on his every now and then.

“mm,” he says absentmindedly, laying his head atop your lap. “what else did you do?”

“i had the most boring class today, you know the one with…” your voice fades into the background of seungmin’s mind, lingering like a sweet dream that doesn’t disappear even after you wake.

he’s focused on your bare face, and the way your lips move with each word you utter, he sees your gleaming eyes, radiant under the light, although unnecessary— the star you harbor for heart enough to lighten you up. he sees your hair settling into the curls he loves the most, wet droplets falling into your shirt—his. he sees the slate of your nose that he loves to peck and the cheeks he always cradles before sleeping. he sees you, at your most vulnerable state, at your most beautiful one, and he loves you. god, does he love you so much.

“are you even listening to me?” you giggle, running your hand through his black hair, the one you dyed between giddy kisses in the bathroom.

“you are so pretty,” he whispers, voice suddenly hoarse with emotion. he doesn’t know where this love tide came from, but he knows that the weariness is gone, that a warmth only you can produce has replaced it.

your cheeks are no longer devoid of color, a faint pink hue seeping through them. you smile, widely, with no hand before your mouth, no intent to hide from him. “i love you, you are the pretty one.”

“i know,” he smiles cheekily, further burying his head in your lap, arms wound around your legs. “keep talking.”

“what am i? your asmr podcast?” you chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of his head. his headache is long gone.

“yes, you are mine. only mine, right?” he adds, a bit vulnerably, voice weaker.

“only yours.”

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbor fic - reader POV - cw: grief Simon Riley/female reader

"Breathe, honey. Try to take a deep breath for me."

Simon is frantic, cradling your face in his hands, pulling away your own to try to look in your eyes, his own wide with horror, worry.

This isn't fair. This isn't right. This is confusing.

"I- I'm sorry." You sob, because it's the only thing you can say, the only thing he can think of, and he shakes his head like he disagrees with you.

"No, no. Sorry for what?" You can't make it make sense, to him, in your own head, and when you try to talk, nothing comes out but a broken cry. "Shhh. You're alright. Just breathe." He tries to soothe you, and it only makes you cry harder, sob welling in your chest. "Are you hurt?"

"No!" you protest. "No, you didn't... I'm not... I-"

"Okay, okay. Hey, look at me sweetheart. I'm right here, I've got you." He coos, still holding you, wiping your tears, keeping you close. "You're okay." You bury your face in his chest, letting him wrap you up, cuddle you close, all while your mind spins and spirals, heart aching like it's been broken all over again. This wasn't supposed to happen. You're not supposed to feel this way. You're supposed to be happy. Aren't you happy?

"I'm sorry." You whisper when you find your voice, and he hums a raspy rebuttal. "No, I... you don't deserve this, to be saddled with this, a-" A widow, and a baby. An emotional basket case. A burden.

"Stop." He looks down at you with sincerity, severe certainty in his eyes, and you gulp at the intensity, shuddering when his lips graze your skin gently. "I don't deserve you, sweetheart. I know that for sure, but not in the way you're thinking right now. I'm not being saddled with anything."

"You don't understand." You shake your head.

"Then tell me." He encourages. "Tell me. I'll listen." He caresses your cheek, touch gentle and caring, devoted, and you close your eyes.

"Okay."

Simon makes you a cup of tea. When he returns to press it into your hands, you're sitting up in bed, donning one of the t shirts you found on the floor.

"Is that my shirt?" He asks, cocking his head, and you nod bashfully, lip tucked between your teeth. "Looks good on you." You reach for the mug with shaking hands, trying to take a deep breath and collect your thoughts. "Take your time." He murmurs. "I'm here. We've got all night." He's not going to want you anymore, once he realizes. Once you tell him how you feel, what you're thinking. You shake the thoughts free, trying to banish them. He said you could tell him. You trust him. You can do this. Just be honest.

"Emmaline's dad died the week we found out we were pregnant." You whisper, unable to look at him. "It was a housing fire, big building. Like this one." You take a sip, watching the way his fingers sit lax in the bed, close enough to touch you, but giving you space. "There was a power surge, or something. Half the city lost electricity and he got called in. It wasn't unusual, he was a Lieutenant, and they're responsible for a crew, a truck. I thought... I thought I'd just go to bed, wake up in the morning, and he'd be there next to me. Like always, on big calls."

"But he wasn't."

"He wasn't. Instead, his Engineer, and his Captain, were at my door with his helmet in their hands." You bite down on your tongue, fruitlessly stalling the tears and the breakdown that's fighting it's way up your throat. "I loved him so much." As soon as you say it, your voice breaks, vision going blurry, and Simon reaches for you, holding your free hand, stroking a thumb across your knuckles. "I haven't been... I haven't been with anyone, since then."

"Oh, sweetheart." You set the tea down on the table next to the bed, pulling air in through your nose as much as you can, trying to regulate your heart rate, your breathing.

"I thought I knew what love was." You whisper, peeking up at him, soft brown eyes watching you patiently. "But this... feels different. It feels like... more. And that... that makes me feel like I'm betraying him. Like I'm dishonoring the love we shared. I feel guilty, and awful, like I'm doing something wrong." You close your eyes, losing your control, your battle, lower lip trembling with a sob. It tumbles out of you, hoarse and raw, everything falling away as you cry. There's a knife, in your chest, in your heart, twisting and sawing and stabbing, and it hurts, it hurts so badly, the sharp ache only soothed when Simon pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, hand smoothing up and down your spine.

"Sh-shhh." He's settled you into his lap completely now, legs and hips and entire body, wrapped up tight, safe and secure. A small amount of tension sags away from your frame, relieved that he's not running, white hot guilt and grief and still burning in the pit of your stomach. "You're not doing anything, anything, wrong, sweetheart." He thumbs at a tear on your cheek. "It's natural to feel grief like this, it's normal. But you're not betraying him, or your marriage. He'll always be a part of you, and Emmaline." He's rocking you, murmuring softly above your ear, and you relax more, letting him calm you, put you back together piece by piece, your tears starting to slow, your chest rising and falling at a more regular pace. "I want to tell you something." He says after a while, once it's been quiet for a few minutes. You nod, trying to encourage him. "My mum is gone." You push off from him, looking up into his eyes. They're sad, and you see grief in them, despair, but also a deep depth of love. "She taught me how to cook, when I was a young lad. Always told me it would come in handy, when I fell in love." He takes a deep breath, burying his face in your neck for a second before coming back up for air. "She never got to see that, me with someone else. In love. And for years, I thought I disappointed her, let her down, even in death."

"Simon." You whisper, heart breaking apart all over again for the pain that's embedded across his face, the torment that bleeds from his expression.

"But, ever since I met you- I've thought, maybe she's lookin' out for me. That she's somewhere, out there, still bein' my mum. Sending me angels." He blinks, lashes wet, the tear that drips down your face mirroring his own. "Sending you, and Emma. And maybe your husband, is doing the same." You close your eyes, remembering the first time you ever saw Simon, on the roof, handsome in the morning light, even though he seemed so exhausted. You remember the way he held Emmaline, the first time he gave her a bottle, your little baby so at home in his giant arms, safe and cuddled against his chest like she just fit there. When he came to your rescue in the park, scary enough to make every scatter but all you felt was safety. The first time he kissed you, on his patio in the snow. And tonight, when he promised to give you everything, when he held you, made love to you, promised to take care of you. Your heart races in your chest, fingers clutching onto him, holding as tight as you can.

"Am I your angel, Simon Riley?" You wondered aloud with wide eyes, leaning into him, nose to nose. He kisses you, face wet with tears, voice hoarse when he answers.

"You're mine, as I'm yours, sweetheart."