#but every time I watched I'd just be thinking like

[flowersforbucky]

lacy

bucky barnes x reader

i don't usually write short drabbles for bucky but i miss him and thought i'd put this little thought into words to get out of a bit of a writing slump that i've been in ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ happy valentine's day, babies

summary: bucky doesn't remember undergarments having so much fucking lace in the forties. but he thinks he can get used to it.

warnings/tags: 18+ mdni, adult themes, sensuality and implied smut, language, reader is afab, sweet teasing and banter, tfatws era

word count: 770+

bucky barnes masterlist

“What? Was lingerie not a thing back in the forties?”

Bucky watches from his position on the bed as you unzip your cocktail dress, the fabric falling from your shoulders and to the floor around your feet. He lays back against the headboard, his hands crossed behind his head. His eyes roam from the strappy heels that you have yet to shed and up your legs until his eyes settle on the black lace thigh holster that connects to a garter belt and matching panties.

You remove the small pistol from the holster, placing it on the dresser beside you before stepping away from the pool of burgundy colored satin at your feet. You crawl onto the bed, the peaks of your breasts threatening to spill out of your bra. You look up at him with a raised brow, still awaiting an answer to your question.

“It was,” he hums. “Can’t say I ever saw anything quite like this, though.”

He’s never seen anything quite like you is what he’s really thinking, but he bites his tongue. His feelings for you are far from being a secret, but he sometimes worries that if he truly spoke his mind every time he thought about how attractive he finds you, he’d never shut up.

His words are still true, though. He’d seen plenty of silk nightgowns and camisoles, but this – the intricate floral embroidery, the lace-lined edges of the cups of your bra, and the way the tight material accentuates every one of your curves just right – this is new territory for him.

“Never?” you quip. You crawl over him, positioning yourself across his lap. His hands come to rest on either side of your hips, the contrasting warmth of flesh and iciness of vibranium eliciting goosebumps across your exposed skin. “Not even online?”

He digs the tips of his fingers into the meat of your hips with the faintest amount of pressure. He doesn’t miss the way it makes you squirm, your clothed center nudging against the growing bulge concealed by his jeans.

“Online?” He huffs a laugh. “I think you’re forgetting that I have a flip phone.”

“Would it convince you to finally get a smartphone if I said I’d send you pictures of me wearing shit like this?”

He laughs, confident that you’d do just that. Considering the fact that you had been teasing him during a mission just a few hours prior, he doesn’t doubt for a second that you’d be more than happy to utilize technology to make him flustered.

“Tempting,” he admits. He dips a metal finger under the waistband of your panties, toying with it before lightly popping it against your skin. “But I have a hard time believing that pictures could do the real thing justice.”

You roll your eyes, playfully poking him in a spot between his ribs that you know to be ticklish. “You’re no fun.”

As swiftly as he can, he flips you so that you’re now pinned between him and the mattress. You look up at him with wide eyes, taken off guard by the sudden change in positions. Still, you automatically spread your legs enough for him to lay between them. He hovers above you, his gaze trailing from the mounds of your breast that peak out from the confines of the lacy bra and up to your lips.

He sits back on his knees, pulling your thigh back so he can grab one of your feet in his hands. He slowly slips the high heel off, not taking his eyes off of you as he tosses it behind him on the bed. He repeats the motion with your other foot, and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of your ankle.

“I'm no fun, huh? Does that mean you don’t want to sit on my face?”

Teasing you a little won’t hurt, he supposes. You’re normally the one dishing it out, and he’s normally the one blushing like a school girl – but he’s got to admit, he likes the way you’re looking at him right now. His heightened senses pick up on the familiar scent of your arousal and your quickened heart rate. He doesn’t need you to vocalize how you’re feeling or what you want; your body gives you away.

“Are you gonna take all of this off of me, or am I gonna have to?”

Your voice is teasing, but Bucky doesn’t miss the edge of impatience that slips through. He chuckles, taking one last, long look at the frilly undergarments. He likes them a lot, he can’t deny it – but he likes you without them even more.

recent bucky fics

all's well that ends well to end up with you - bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together

starry eyed - reader gets a gift from her secret santa

[bunny-jpeg]

quenching a thirst

daniel ricciardo

request: is there any possibility to have 2 and 10 with daniel for the valentines ask? 2. “i’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.” + 10. “we’re in public, you know.”

tags: smut/pwp, semi-public sex (in a closet), assistant!reader, secret relationship, oral sex (reader receives), quick & messy, hair pulling

eros (the valentine's collection)

"danny." you said as you placed your hands on his chest. it only encouraged him to lean in closer to you. you said a little more sternly, "danny."

"no one is watching, just one kiss. i want to taste that lip gloss of yours when i talk to the reporters." he licked his lips. you hated that there was something about him that made you flustered. flirting came natural to him and it made you feel warm all over.

you held onto your clipboard in your free hand and said, "and they could come bargaining in at any second. you want to be on the news for being at this charity event, not for kissing your assistant." but daniel still captured your lips in his.

when he pulled away, he licked his lips and said, "mmm, apple pie."

but you knew one kiss wouldn't calm down daniel's need for you. one kiss turned into two and two often turned into three rounds of sex in the closest bad you could find. you knew you had every chance to say no, but the charm of daniel ricciardo was undeniable.

even when he got on your nerves at times. you gave him several small kisses and one long make-out session with his tongue in your mouth before he was able to do his interviews. you tried to deny the heat between your legs while you watched him from the sidelines. you could see the slight shine on his lips, obvious from your kisses.

you had been secretly seeing daniel for about six months. you had been his assistant for over a year and a half, all that time together let something bloom between you two. nights spent between races, the home-cooked meals you made him try, that one time you held his hand while he got his newest tattoo.

you two were close and daniel loved you. which was why he yearned for your kisses. and why he whined when you refused to give him more. he was insatiable at times, but yet it made you flustered. like when he kissed you and ran his tongue across your bottom lip.

"we're in public you know." you said as you ended up pressed against the wall of a hallway. you moaned into another kiss when he pinched you behind.

you knew it didn't actually matter. you could publicly date him with little to no fuss. but you didn't want people to think you got your job because you were sleeping with your boss. daniel understood, he respected that you wanted to be seen with integrity. but that didn't lessen his need for your kisses and your love.

"sorry, babe." he said sweetly, "i like when you make sure i'm well taken care of. i feel like i should do the same considering how needy you get."

you chuckled, warmed by his words, "what do you me to say? i've never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly? get on my knees for you." you held onto his strong shoulders. you were totally smitten.

the allure he had over you, you were both alone in the hallway with his lips on yours. he said lowly, "i want you. i want to taste you. i don't think i can wait till we get back home." his large hands were on your hips. he held you close and licked his top lip.

"you're insatiable, ricciardo."

he leaned in further, "i know, but you love me. just like how i love you." you quickly ended up in a supply closet with your back up against a few shelves.

"fuck." you whispered as daniel quickly and quietly closed the door and turned on the low light. even in the dim light he looked good, you eyes him as he got to his knees and hiked up your short skirt. you covered your mouth as he pulled your panties down and exposed your pussy to him.

"look at you." he mused quietly, "you look so good. i et you taste so sweet. when i was talking to the press i thought about you. how i'd rather be back home with my head between your thighs." and chuckled before he heard you quietly moan.

"danny." you said and tensed up as he kissed your pussy. he held onto your soft thighs with your skirt pushed up to your waist and your panties to your ankles. you leaned further against the shelves.

his tongue was talented, and with a pussy as perfect as yours he only wanted to make you feel good. he groaned against your cunt and licked at it. he could feel heat in his body, the air in the cramped space got warmer. his cock throbbed in his jeans. he held on a little tighter and pressed his nose further into your sex.

your wetness stained his lips more than your lip gloss did earlier. while daniel liked the apple pie flavour, your pussy tasted better. you moaned and tried to keep yourself composed. you couldn't be too loud or else people would start to get curious. you covered your mouth once more with one hand and held onto his short dark hair with the other.

daniel groaned against your pussy when you gave his hair a short tug. he licked your stiff clit and felt an electric feeling move through him. you tasted divine. he pressed further, he couldn't get enough. your pussy was the most divine of tastes and it made daniel eager to have more.

his attention on your clit made your body tense up as pleasure raced through you. "danny." you said in a hushed tone, "right there, fuck. i love when you tease my clit." you shakily exhaled and held onto his hand with both hands now. it all felt overwhelming in the best way possible, but you couldn't cause a scene right now.

you didn't want to be public with your relationship at that time, you knew what a hard launch was. but you didn't want to launch your relationship because someone cause daniel's head between your legs!

he looked up at you and dragged his tongue messily across your cunt. your wetness drooled down his chin. he was a messy eater. it was endearing, almost cute. you felt a wobble in your knees as he admired you for a moment before he went back to orally pleasuring you.

you felt the lingering heat in your body and swore under your breath. his large hands held onto your thighs and he licked your sopping wet sex. you whimpered as his movements and you knew you weren't going to last much longer.

daniel felt the strain in his jeans as he continued to pleasure your pussy with a talented eagerness. he could feel the pre-cum stain the front of his briefs. he couldn't care less. not when he had a mission. your eager noises only pulled him in closer and he loved how you tasted. it was like a taste of heaven and your noises were angel choirs, it made his heart sing. it felt good as he applied more pressure to his movements and then felt you quiver around him.

in a cramped storage room, daniel feasted on your beautifully slick cunt and your hushed pleasured noises. you felt blissed out as he only worked himself harder against you.

daniel loved you, that was certain. he knew it from the bottom of his heart. he ached for you, needed to be close to you. even when you tried to do your job. you held on a little tighter and pushed your pussy up against him. he could feel your love through your pussy up against his face.

"please. fuck, yes." you near squeaked as the pleasure reached its pack. you shakily exhaled in an attempt to hold back a moan. silence was key. it was heated in the closet, the sweat dampened your back as your breathed heavily.

daniel's moan was muffled by your pussy and felt the tension in your thighs. he gave you one last lick and felt your orgasm cross through you. he looked up and watched you have to cover your mouth as you came. your knees shook as the intense feeling washed over you. a small noise spilled from his lips. you cursed under your breath as you relaxed a little.

daniel pulled away and wiped his wet mouth with the back of his hand. he chuckled lightly and let himself remain excited. he grinned at you, "pretty girl." then helped you back into your panties before he pushed your skirt down over your thighs.

"i'm not making this a habit." you said pointedly. daniel got back to his feel, he kissed you on the cheek before he wiped his wet mouth.

"of course." he wrapped his arms around you, "next time we'll just leave easily and i can see how loud you can get." then winked.

you playfully pushed his chest, "you're insatiable, danny."

"i know, but only for you." <3

[leighsartworks216]

could I request it being the first time ur in a relationship for valentine's and youre not sure how to make it special for sylus because you've never celebrated before ? :)

My First Valentine

Sylus x gn!Reader

I wrote most of this today even tho the request came in a week ago 💀 sorry

Warnings: fluff, anxiety, nervousness, embarrassment, kissing, gift giving, flowers, Valentine's Day, insecurity, declarations of love, established relationship, pet names, reader is implied as being shorter/smaller than Sylus

Word Count: 1,922

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third LADS Masterlists

AO3

Tag List Form

'45 Fun And Romantic Valentine's Day Date Ideas!' '13 Fun Valentine's Day Activities!' '25+ Romantic Things To Do This Valentine's Day!'

You sigh, closing yet another tab of holiday ideas. You don't know how many websites you've looked at now, all of them promising fantastic gifts or experiences, sure to sweep your partner off their feet. But none of them felt good enough. Not for Sylus.

All your life, Valentine's Day was another lonely day. Your friends and their partners would be out and about or getting together at home, and you'd be stuck in pjs, eating ice cream and watching the same cheesy rom-coms as the year before. The most you'd ever gotten out of the day was in school, when you'd get those little themed cards with a heart-shaped lollipop poked through them.

Now that you have a partner, every single thing you come across feels too cheesy, or like something he wouldn't be into. Not to mention, anything you could possibly buy, he could get on his own with his gobs of money.

Go on a trip? He owns his own private jet; he could go anywhere anytime.

Buy him flowers? More likely than not, they'd wilt twice as fast in the darkness of the N109 Zone.

Dinner at a restaurant means you'd have to find some really fancy place to suit his tastes to make sure he has a nice time. Cooking something yourself could hardly compare to his professional private chef's cooking.

You could get him some vinyls, but you'd hate to get him a duplicate. Weapons? Well, he's got that covered; he deals them.

Asking Luke and Kieran is a non-starter when they're equally as likely to give you good advice as fake advice that would make you look foolish.

You can't fathom how your friends make it look so easy to make plans for the day and get gifts for their partners. Though, you suppose, none of them are dating a multi-billionaire (if not multi-trillionaire or more) crime boss.

You sigh and close your laptop with a snap. What does Sylus enjoy that you can treat him to as a special holiday treat? Something you can feasibly accomplish before the actual day rolls around? Something other than a cheap visit to the arcade or the cat cafe...

Wait... Actually...

Sylus knows you live in rather modest means. He always insists you pay with his black card so you're not stressing about going broke. Why would he suddenly expect you to dish out wads of cash now on a trip or gift? Anything you give him - even if it's a cheap toy from the dollar store - he'd cherish like a gem.

And that's when the idea forms.

With all the preparations written down, you text him, bubbling with energy.

Syyyy

You seem rather playful all of a sudden. What's got you excited, kitten?

You can tell all that from one word??

No, I can tell all that because I know you

Awe 🥺 stop being so cute

Anyway!! I actually wanted to tell you that I have Valentine's Day all worked out!

Oh?

But it's a secret!

Well now I'm interested. What do I need to do for these plans of yours?

Just show up at my place at nightfall on the day of :3

That's it? Why do I feel like I'm being lured into a trap?

Oh yeah the worst trap of all a doting partner who wants to pour all their love on you

Alright. I'll see you then, kitten

But don't think I'll be showing up empty handed

I'd be concerned if you did ngl

Ily <3333333 Goodnighttt

Goodnight, sweetie. I love you too

-

For how simple your plan is - or perhaps because of how simple your plan is - you've never been more nervous in your life. You've double and triple checked everything, made sure he'll be comfortable and not too disappointed with what you've come up with, and second-guessed yourself several times about whether this is actually a good idea.

Not that it matters. You'd be really down to the wire to come up with something new now.

You pace the living room, wringing your hands together, chewing your lip, fussing with your hair. You feel like a dog excited to see its owner when you hear a patterned knock on the door. So excited you nearly trip over the corner of a blanket in your haste to answer it.

Sylus is there to greet you, an easy grin on his face and softened eyes. A large bouquet that you'd drown in rests deceptively small in the crook of his arm. A bag hangs from his other hand, but he sets it down when you step into the hall to hug him.

He chuckles fondly, squeezing you tightly to him and kissing your head. "You look cozy," he teases playfully. His fingers tug at the back of your pajamas.

You laugh nervously as you step back. "Ah, yeah. It's part of the stuff I planned, actually."

He quirks an eyebrow. "I'm a bit overdressed."

"Don't worry! I got you some!" Your face grows hot. You feel like an idiot, flustered and inexperienced. "Come in, so I can explain better."

You take the bouquet from his arm. It's full of your favorite flowers, their delightful aroma tickling your nose as you carry them into the kitchen to look for a vase. You have to rely on your muscle memory to move around; they completely block your vision. Sylus follows in after you with his bag, peering around the little space of your apartment. He'd offered to get you a bigger one, once. Somewhere with a view, soundproof walls, and all the upgraded appliances you ogled in the stores. But you refused, and he respected that, even if it meant being inconvenienced by the lack of space for someone of his size.

His eyes land on the couch, covered in blankets of all sizes. Various DVDs cover the coffee table alongside a neatly folded pair of pajamas. It's cluttered, but purposefully so, as if the mess has been built into the experience.

You find a vase (bought after the first time he bought you flowers that you had to divvy up between various drinking cups) and settle the bouquet on the small dining table. There's no room left for two people to eat there. You come back out looking a mite more disheveled than before.

You smile awkwardly up at him, eyes flickering from his face to your setup as you rock back and forth on your feet. "So! Um, I've never actually had a partner to celebrate Valentine's Day with before, so I used to get a bunch of ice cream, maybe some takeout, and I'd just spend the night on the couch with a bunch of cheesy rom-coms. And now we're together and I didn't know what I could do because you can have anything you want at any given moment. But, um, I just thought, for my first Valentine's Day with someone, I could... share my 'tradition' with you." You exhale a shaky breath. "I know it's probably not what you were expecting..."

"Sweetie," he gently interrupts your rambling. He sets the bag on the couch, then closes the space between you, holding your face in both his hands, urging you to meet his eyes. They shine with something warm and sweet, like cherry wine. "It's not what I was expecting, but it's better than anything I could have imagined."

You scoff. "You're just saying that."

He shakes his head. "I can't buy a tradition, sweetie. This is something that means a lot to you. I'm fortunate enough to be the one person who gets to share it with you; no amount of money could do that."

Your heart feels light. It floats around your chest like a balloon filled with helium. Butterflies flutter in your stomach to join in on the fun. Is this how your friends felt with their partners? It's addicting. You try to blink away the incoming tears before they can form.

"What did you bring?" you ask suddenly, redirecting the conversation away so you can have a chance to gather yourself.

Fortunately, he lets you have it. With a knowing smirk, he kisses your forehead and steps away back to the couch. You miss the proximity immediately.

He pulls out each item one by one, holding it up to show you. "Wine. I can't say anything about how it'll taste, but the label was pretty, so I thought you'd like it." He sets it on the coffee table.

"You mentioned that you liked to go to the store the day after to buy the discounted candy. Well, it wasn't discounted, but I grabbed a variety." Those remain in the bag, but he has to shift it all around to reach something at the bottom.

He seems the most proud of - and the most nervous for - this one. He glances over at you before he pulls it out, as though double checking he has your attention. From the bag comes a hoodie, that he holds by the shoulders to let it unfold. It's nothing too special to look at, but the size is what strikes you. When he holds it up, it's clearly the perfect size for him. His ears tinge pink as he holds it out for you.

"You complained once that I don't have any hoodies for you to steal, like other couples do," he reminds you, voice soft and vulnerable.

He watches carefully as you step forward and reach out to feel the material. It's soft. So soft. You take it into your arms. The familiar scent of Sylus wafts up from the fabric; his body wash, his cologne, him. You hold it up to your nose to smell it better as you look up at him in awe.

"I wore it for a couple days," he admits. "If you don't like it, I can-"

"I love it." You really are going to cry now. You step forward, clinging the hoodie to your chest as he wraps his arms around you. "Sy, this means so much to me. I'm never gonna be able to take it off."

He chuckles. His arms squeeze you just a bit tighter, pull you a bit closer. "I'm glad. You're my first Valentine, too."

You pull back enough to look up at him. Your eyes are glassy, surprise to earnest on your face. "Wha- Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"Well, I mean, I just- You're so... you. That's a compliment, by the way."

"I was waiting for the right partner," he says with a huff of laughter. He dips his head down, soft lips capturing yours in a meaningful kiss. When he speaks again, it's in soft murmurs between kisses. "I'll go change... into the pajamas you got me... and then... we can watch... your movies."

The butterflies are back in full force. Each kiss has them flittering about, doing swoops and swirls in your stomach, wings tickling your insides. "Okay... Mm, but, stay here a bit longer..."

He smiles against your lips, hands sliding up your body to hold your face as he tilts his head, yearning to taste more of you, feel more of you. "Love you, sweetheart..."

You blindly set the hoodie on the arm of the couch to hold his fancy shirt in both hands, drawing him closer, knuckles brushing against the defined muscle beneath the fabric. "I love you, Sylus... Mm, so much... so much..."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @burningtrashgentleman

[be-xkyy]

Is it bad that I wanna have the yandere men’s babies? 🫣 Cowboys, Sugar Daddy, etc. I’m curious though how some of them would react if reader was enthused to settle down with them and start a family? 🥰

Please don’t stop the breeding/pregnancy kinks

Hi! that's a good question anon and I'll answer it right now.

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★

Yandere reactions to a reader willing and happy to be with them and have their babies.

Yandere Farmer link

This grumpy man doesn't jump for joy or anything, in his mind he doesn't understand why he would be elated by the simple fact that you know your place and where you belong? You belong beneath him receiving his fat cock in your greedy pussy. End of story.

He already thinks he's old (maybe just a little...) and that he's running out of time to have a family and you accepting your place without making a fuss takes a huge weight off his shoulders, he takes you to live with him that very day and oh... you'll realize that this man has the stamina of a bull and the same softness.

As soon as you arrive he already has you bent over the kitchen table with your cheek pressed against the oak wood while his fat cock abuses your pussy, his fat balls slapping your plush ass with a dirty sound while a large hand holds you tightly by the back of the neck squeezing the little hairs deliciously.

From that day on you will have your poor pussy sore and overstimulated because he will fuck you all the time and at all hours.

He fucks you in the morning when the rooster wakes up and doesn't even crow yet but he's already buried deep in your pussy, he fucks you in the barn on a pile of hay when you go to feed the horses, he fucks you in the afternoon when he takes a break after hours in the field under the sun, he fucks you in the shower when you go to bathe to clean off the dirt from a productive day of work and he fucks you when you go to sleep with his calloused hand squeezing your throat, your eyes are rolled back as he fills your fertile pussy with his thick cum for the eleventh time that day.

That repeats itself every day so it's no surprise when just a month later you find out you're pregnant, did that soften it? No really I keep fucking you mercilessly and squeezing your throat until you see stars but you notice him rubbing your flat belly from time to time.

"The children in my family are big— when you get older you may feel a little uncomfortable at first but don't worry, you will feel better during the seventh or eighth pregnancy."

Yandere Cowboy link

Well, reader actually does like yandere Cowboy (since she doesn't know what a bad person he really is) so from the start she wants to be with him and does what he asks her, she stopped taking birth control when he asked her to, she let him fuck her where he wanted and kept her legs up with a pillow underneath for half an hour so his semen wouldn't leak out because he asked her to.

Besides the fact that he knows how to take advantage of her, she's too young and naive and believes that besides her father he's the only one who loves and values ​​her, so it's normal for her to let him sneak into her room (secretly from her father obviously) to fuck like rabbits, he squeezes her in a tight mating hold that barely lets her breathe keeping her legs pressed down almost touching her ears.

He pumps his fat cock into her pussy frantically as she lets out low mewls, he uses a calloused finger to rub circles on her tiny clit that tightens around his member from the overwhelming pleasure she feels and he lets out a guttural growl as he watches her delicious tits bouncing right in front of his face, with one final thrust he cums deep inside her womb flooding it with his swimmers.

"That was so good baby doll, ugh— ha! I bet after this I'll get pregnant with twins, and if that's the case we'll do it again and again until it works."

Yandere Dilf link

I'd be over the moon, really. He already believes you're his wife, he's believed it since he first saw you holding his son (very delirious) and for you to accept that fact so happily and willingly to be his, to have his babies, would only increase his already enormous delusions.

You won't be going to college anymore, of course not. You'll stay home to take care of his son and prepare everything for when he comes back from work, as a reward he'll make love to you every night without exception, he'll fuck you fervently with one of his hands covering your mouth, muffling your high-pitched moans while his cock drills your swollen pussy mercilessly.

He'll kiss your tits and neck before licking the salt off your skin as he tells you how much he wants to fill you with his babies, that you'll be the prettiest mother ever, all fat and round with one baby in your belly while you hold the other on your hip, he keeps repeating those things over and over again until he finally reaches the limit by cumming deep inside your swollen pussy just like it should be.

"Darling— let's do it again, what if once isn't enough...? Come on spread your legs."

Yandere Sugar Daddy link

Honestly this man is arrogant as fuck when he sees how happy and willing you are to be his and have his brats, he'll end up gloating while pinching your cheek telling you how proud he is that you came to your senses and are his good little girl.

Obviously he'll take you to live with him in his mansion a big one so his future children can have fun running around all over the place, you'll drop out of your law career after all now you have him and his kids soon so why study? He'll fuck you anywhere, he'll fuck you on his private jet forcing you to ride him while the embarrassed stewardesses serve champagne without making eye contact, he'll fuck you on all fours in front of the fireplace filling you with his cum over and over again scolding you playfully when his cum comes out of your pussy staining his 50 thousand dollar carpet he sticks two fingers in your pussy plugging you.

He doesn’t stop fucking you when he finds out you’re pregnant, he doesn’t stop fucking you when you’re 7 months along and your stomach is all big and swollen, he lays you down on the bed making you ride him you bounce up and down as best you can while his hands rub your ass before moving up to your belly heavy with his child, his child, just the thought of him doing this to you turns him on so much, he ends up cumming inside you every time, without fail.

“Fuck— I wish I could put another one of my babies inside you right now, see you even more swollen with my children. Shit— move again.”

[seasidefallenangel]

𓆩♡𓆪 good men die too, i'd rather be with you 𓆩♡𓆪

valentine's day headcanons ft; kanata yatonokami, tenn kujo, sunday, nagi seishiro

notes: fluff, bit suggestive in tenn's

༄ kanata yatonokami:

✣ it’d be a lie to say he’s ever held something so commercial as valentine’s day in high regard. all the overpriced stuff in stores and seeing an onslaught of affection in public made him roll his eyes at best and sick to his stomach at worst.

✣ even after dating you, he’s still not that big of a fan. honestly, he wasn’t even planning on doing much of anything but nayuta nearly crucified him for that idea. 

✣ (nayuta thinks it’s a miracle kanata even has a partner with how unromantic he is.)

✣ gritting his teeth and bearing it, he takes you out to a more laid-back restaurant in hopes that you’ll like it. something on the high end scale would just be uncomfortable and out of place for him, but if you had really insisted he would do it for you.

✣ it’s so cute to see him obviously flustered yet trying to be on his best behavior for you. he’d normally tell you off for acting so smug and lovesick around him but he figures this is the one day he can let you get away with it.

⁀➷ “ugh, can you just… nevermind. don’t expect this all the time. you’re lucky i love you. no shit i said it outloud. you think i’d be doing all this if i didn’t?”

༄ tenn kujo:

✣ obviously trigger’s angel is able to woo his partner. what kind of idol would he be if he didn’t devote every piece of himself into satisfying you?

✣ as much as he’d love to take you out for the holiday, it’d just be too risky. sure he could wear a disguise but he feels as if that takes away from the intimacy of the holiday.

✣ so, the next best thing is to have a catered dinner at his house. how he got aya and kujo to leave is a mystery, but evidently it worked.

✣ everything about him is practiced and perfect, to the point where you tell him it’s okay to be a little more relaxed. it’s not that he’s trying to put up a front, it’s just that he’s so in love with you he doesn’t even know what to do with himself.

✣ at his core, tenn is a giver - to the point where he’d sacrifice his own wellbeing just to see your smile. there’s nothing he values more than making you happy, and it’s evident with every kiss he gives you, setting your heart ablaze as he takes you to his bedroom.

⁀➷ “i’m relieved everything went well. i wish i could’ve taken you on a traditional date, though. maybe sometime in the future? before we get married at least. … obviously i’m marrying you.”

༄ sunday:

✣ the (former) oak family head is no slouch. even if he’s never formally been in a relationship, he was raised right and knows how to treat you. 

✣ granted, the astral express isn’t exactly the ideal location. he’d much prefer to wine and dine, giving you only the best the cosmos have to offer. unfortunately, he’s also kind of broke after the events of penacony and his defecting, so an in-house date it is.

✣ that doesn’t mean it’s any less special than a traditional night out ; in fact, he puts twice the amount of effort into it. from perfecting a meal filled with your favorite dishes, to paying march and stelle to pick up some drinks and gifts on one of their rest stops.

✣ that of course is then curbed by dan heng giving sunday the most distressed look he’s ever seen, because why would anyone trust those two with a task like that? dan heng then takes it upon himself to get the proper gifts instead of the caterpillar farm suggested by stelle.

✣ the upside to the express is that the view is second to none. throughout dinner, sunday’s wings are fluttering a mile a minute as he watches you admire the stars and swirling galaxies that pass by. he can’t be bothered to look out the window when the most ethereal view is sitting across from him.

⁀➷ “can you look at me once more, dearest? no, nothing’s wrong. i just want to imprint this into my memory. if you had told me even a year ago i’d have you in my arms, i’d have assumed it was a terrible joke. i’m simply grateful the aeon’s have led us together.”

༄ nagi seishiro:

✣ reo is easily the most stressed out person in this scenario. for as sweet and clingy nagi is towards you, that boy is romantically dense. he figures he can get you a candy bar and call it a day, and reo is on the urge of strangling him for even suggesting it.

✣ flowers! gifts! chocolate! jewelry! fancy dinner! reo is trying to hammer in some more ideas into nagi’s brain and nagi’s expression grows more and more bored with every word. he even insists that he knows his partner and all of that stuff would probably overwhelm you (and make you think nagi had been kidnapped and brainwashed.)

✣ they compromise in the end. reo uses some connections to have a chef prepare dinner at nagi’s apartment and nagi gets off his lazy ass to buy you some flowers and a box of chocolate. for all his whining about existing being a hassle, he does listen to you pretty intently. he knows you think roses on valentine’s day is a bit too cliche, so he opts to get you something like a mixed bouquet with ranunculuses, dailies, and lily of the valley’s.

✣ it’s sweet and very nagi. even in his own way, he’s able to show how much he adores you. you’re the only thing worth putting effort into in his eyes - all he demands is that you smother him in cuddles afterward.

⁀➷ “i told reo everything would be fine… why does he worry so much? i really like you, so i’m not gonna mess it up. everything is less annoying with you around. … did i say something weird?”

[thezombieprostitute]

how does domestic lloyd do valentine's day?

Summary: You and Lloyd on Valentine's Day.

Warnings: Smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

Series Masterlist

Lloyd wakes up slowly. His brain takes its time registering the bright the room is. As soon as he does, he startles awake. You must have slept through your alarms! He's gotta get you up and get into the kitchen to make you breakfast!

As he turns to wake you up he's stopped in his tracks but the sight before him. You're laying on your side, head propped up on your arm, wearing a red sheer lace lingerie set that had hearts barely covering your nipples.

"'Bout time you woke up, handsome," you tease. "Decided to surprise you by taking the day off, letting you sleep in. You didn't even stir when I got out of bed to change into this."

"You sexy vixen," Lloyd purrs. He goes to roll on top of you but you push him onto his back and straddle him.

"Nuh uh, sexy," you giggle. "You take such good care of my every day. Today, I'm gonna take care of you."

"So long as you promise to put this mustache to good use," he smirks.

"Why on earth would I deny myself your second greatest feature?" you exclaim as your hips over crotch.

It's after noon by the time you and Lloyd get out of bed. Well, "crawl out of bed" might be more accurate. You and Lloyd are always insatiable for each other. If it weren't for your stomachs growling you'd likely stay in bed all day.

Lloyd puts on his apron and smiles the whole time he cooks you up a little something. You enjoy the show, watching his muscles as he moves, enjoying how his butt cheeks jiggle just right. You want to smack them so bad but you have to refrain while he's cooking.

"You are such a tease," you comment.

"Damn right," he snickers as he moves almost close enough to where you could grab his butt. "And you love it."

"I love you," you retort.

"And I love you, too," he winks before getting back to cooking. "So did you have any other surprises for me today?"

"Well, only if you're up for it," you goad.

Lloyd turns off the burners and plates the food. Taking off the apron, you give a whistle as he turns to face you. He's only got one plate for the food so you know what's going to happen. He sits on his favorite chair and pulls you to sit on his lap.

"Pretty sure I'll be up for a lot of things by the time we're done eating," he quips in your ear. You take a bite and moan while melting into him. "Especially if you keep acting like that."

"Not my fault you're such a good cook," you gently poke him. "Almost a better cook than you are a lover. Almost."

You alternate bites for you and Lloyd as his hands gently massage your legs, sore from the morning's activities. Despite going at it all morning, you feel Lloyd harden underneath you, making you wet. Occasionally you'll grind your hips against him, making him moan and groan for you. Once or twice he nips at your neck, calling you out on your teasing.

When the food is gone Lloyd follows up on your conversation from the kitchen. "What was the other stuff you had in mind?"

"You mean besides you stuffing me in multiple ways?" you wink. "I was thinking we could go to Amelia's and I'd try on anything and everything you chose."

Lloyd's hands freeze and he growls softly in your ear, "anything and everything?"

"I'm not saying I'll buy any of it," you amend. "I still say it's high priced stripper clothes. But I'll be happy to put on a show for you."

"Fuck, you're trying to kill me. But what a way to go." Lloyd forces you up on your feet as he bends you over the table. "Gotta work out a few more before we go or else I'm taking you in the changing room."

"Wouldn't be the first time," you chuckle.

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[muzzlemouths]

@sinister-sincerely ;) Surprise~

You've gotta be the only person I know who specifically requests heavy angst for a valentines event, but who am I to argue! I'd be lying if I said I didn't have fun writing something so bittersweet.

Sun/Moon x Y/N Word Count: 3,750 Warnings: Mutual pining (but it's too late), hurt/no comfort

It’s exactly as you remember.

The stench of pizza grease still lingers in the air, rainbow puddles of gasoline hiding under minivans beside forgotten litter, every pothole in its place. The pizzeria greets you in its daunting enormity as you enter the mouth like a bitter swallowed pill.

You can’t say for certain what brought you to this point. How many restless nights and plaintive mornings you endured, how deep the sunken shadow beneath your eyes became until you couldn’t take it anymore. When days turned to weeks turned to months.

The earth orbits the sun in a slow, tedious loop and it is here, a year after it all, that you find yourself staring down the doors to the Superstar Daycare.

The day’s end sees parents lingering in droves around the doors. Some caught up in polite conversation, soccer moms and wine aunts sharing a good laugh, heels clinking against the sticky floor. While others tap their feet with impatient expectation and arms crossed over their chest. They check their phones and apple watches as if watching the time will make it move any faster.

Not you, though. Your feet, your time, your expectations, it all travels at a devastating crawl, and you would sooner turn around and wash your hands of this whole ordeal before you willed it to go faster. The drag of your feet is purposeful. 

You disappear into the crowd, and one by one they disappear from you. Parents and uncles and older siblings in various states of mood, their faces brightening when it’s their turn to scoop a teetering tot into their arms and ask about their day, crayon drawings and popsicle stick crafts haphazardly glued together still clutched in tiny hands. Their blurry faces pay you no mind as you stand at the center of it all, choking on the consequences of your own actions. Their numbers dwindle by the minute.

You had eventually learned to tolerate the giggling shrieks of daycare children, having worked enough shifts that the noise fell into the backdrop like everything else, but the quiet — when the doors closed for the last time and it was just you and them, free from the inhibitions of work — the quiet was your favorite part. Now it only proves to further your dread. 

There are a dozen people to hide between, then ten, then six, then four, three, two…

and then you’re alone.

Any minute now Sun will peek his head out the door to ensure that no one was missed. It’s a silly tendency, the checking and double checking and triple checking to an almost obsessive degree, but you’ve long since become fond of these little habits. How miserable, then, to have to rely on its inevitability because you’re too much of a coward to confront him yourself.

It’s this same fear that drives you to turn on your heel at the last second, reconsidering this whole plan to begin with. If you left now you wouldn’t have to see the look of betrayal on his face. If you were quick about it you could still make haste towards the exit and be out of eyesight before the door ever opened, and then maybe, if you were lucky, your heart would consider this a worthwhile attempt and would finally let you leave this all behind.

How silly to think life would be so kind. You’ve run out of chances to avoid this.

Light pours over your back in a soft rectangle curve, warm and, much like the face that greets you, familiar. His voice — a polite ‘Can I help you?’ that lacks recognition — forces you to a halt. You anchor yourself to the spot for as long as you can get away with until the flicker of determination that remains in your chest demands you to move, and only then do you greet him properly; face to face.

The state of him guts you. His dirt coated faceplate, paint chipping at the edges and thumbprints smudged en mass, built up gunk wedged into the grooves, it tells you all you need to know.

It tells you that he hasn’t let anyone help him since your disappearance.

There is something to be said about the emotional range of a robot who cannot express himself in the usual way. You considered yourself quite adept at understanding exactly what they were feeling at any given moment regardless and in spite of the lack of visual cues, rarely being hindered by their static smiles because you had other things to rely on, like the pitch in their voice, their postures, their gestures. 

But Sun looks your way in complete silence, not budging from his place within the doorframe as recognition takes hold.

Silence fills your lungs until its presence is suffocating and this, if nothing else, finally prompts you to speak up. It’s a mess — your guilty muttering of “Can we talk?” — and you’re grateful to have even managed that much, and surprised, albeit relieved, initially, when it does the trick to stir Sun from his stupor.

His response, though lacking words, can be heard loud and clear.

You scramble forward in a rush, just barely managing to wedge your foot in the door before he has the chance to finish shutting it in your face.

“Please,” you rasp, pride be damned. 

His faceplate tilts (in curiosity or frustration, you aren’t sure), and his voicebox clicks like an irked tongue. Though they remain fixated in place you can surely feel the way his eyes find the ugly scar at your jaw and follow it all the way down your shoulder. Another click. 

He widens the door.

It’s not the warm welcome you’ve come to expect over the years, but it’s likely the kindest greeting you’ll receive from him now, all things considered, so you do your best not to spit on the brittle olive branch and quickly duck beneath his arm to make your way inside.

The daycare brings a wave of emotions that immediately threaten the frail sense of composure you’re still clinging to. Memories, new and very, very old, all collect in the back of your throat and sting like fresh bile. 

You recognize every stain in the carpet that Sun could never get out, can pinpoint how long its been since he’s cleaned by how strongly the smell of bleach contends with freshly soiled diapers. You know by the back of your hand which slides will burn you all the way down and which are permanently sticky from sickly kids and parents who couldn’t afford to bring them anywhere else. You know where the craft supplies are hidden, where the movies are kept, where the toys are stored. You know how bright the stars will shine when the lights go out, and how quickly Moon will abandon his station to find another.

You know exactly where to look when either of them is hurt and hiding.

But Sun isn’t hiding, now, even though he is very much hurt. Instead he stands a few paces from your side, hand still on the door and back to you. He doesn’t run and he doesn’t hide and he doesn’t need to.

Because it is you who ran away. It is you who hid.

It’s you who disappeared to somewhere they could never reach.

“Sun, I—”

“Why are you here?”

His voice cuts through you deeper than even the guilt. You want him to be angry with you, to scream and cry and lash out so your apprehension feels justified, so you can feel like there’s still something to salvage from this relationship, even if it’s negative. Even if it hurts. It would be easier if it hurt.

Instead, Sun addresses you with dry, polite boredom. He speaks to you like a stranger. 

Then, again, arrives the silence. It permeates through flesh and bone to sink into your very core, a poison that takes root deep in the pit of your stomach and blooms into something horrid. Gnarled branches of grief and shame left unpruned for so long that they’ve made a husk of the person you used to be. 

How do you come back from that?

“We didn’t know—” his fingers vice against the doorknob until its metal warps inward, refusing to show you his face. “We didn’t know where you went, why — why you left. You didn’t say anything. Not to us or anyone we asked.” His arms pinch into their shoulder sockets, the neglected casings whining against the tension. “Believe me, we asked everyone.”

Branches twist and unfurl, spindly twigs of guilt tickling against the back of your throat, thick with vinegar. You can taste it on your tongue. It takes all of your strength to step towards him. “Sun, I—”

“Stop,” he rasps. “Don’t. Just — just stay there. Stay right there.”

It stings. You often mulled over how they might react to your return when the day came, but never did you consider that he might not even want to look you in the eye. Swallowing around that boulder draws tears to your eyes. Nevertheless, your feet remain planted where they are, resigned to have this conversation with the back of his faceplate. “I wanted to reach out—”

“I wasn’t finished,” he interrupts. His rays sink inward, briefly, face swiveling at an angle where you can almost see his eyes. “We thought…Moon thought he had killed you,” he admits. “For a short time after you left us, we convinced ourselves that this is what happened. We let ourselves believe it because — because,” he turns, finally looking you in the eye, “because the alternative is that you abandoned us like everyone else.”

Your cheeks warm beneath streams of bitter salt. Words evade you for the longest time, deaf to your pleas to say something, anything, because more than Sun looking expectant for an answer is he deserving of one. 

Sun shakes his head, unimpressed by your inability to pry your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “Two minutes,” he says.

That does the trick just fine. “Two—?”

“You have two minutes to explain yourself,” he clarifies.

Your nose twitches, sniffling. “And after?” You ask, terrified of the answer. If he shoos you from the daycare and bans your name forevermore you aren’t sure you’ll ever recover. It’s selfish to fear such things — you know, already — when your actions were undoubtedly what burnt that bridge in the first place.

His arms cross over his chest, fingers winding fiercely into the metal, and he nods towards the clock. It’s getting late, already. 

“In two minutes it won’t be my choice what happens to you,” he warns.

Your gaze follows his own, eyeing the time. There’s no telling how lenient Moon will be about hearing you out but, if memory serves, you won’t see half the patience that Sun is tentatively offering you now. You don’t have time to argue either way.

You search your heart for the words that need to be said and, when that fails to provide you with a linear path forward, you opt to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, instead. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” you admit. Your thumb lifts to press into scarred flesh, and follows it all the way down to where it disappears beneath your shirt collar. It’s ugly and it’s deep and you will bear it for the rest of your life. “I didn’t know how to confront this.”

Looking up, Sun hasn’t moved from his spot. He doesn’t blink, and he doesn’t speak, but the way his fist digs into the fabric of his pants tells you that he remembers that night clearly. You’re sure he spent several days thereafter scrubbing your blood out of the carpet.

It was an accident. As much as one can accidentally attack a loved one with blind violence, that is. You tell yourself it wasn’t intentional and you had hoped that they had, too. Both of you knew the day would come eventually either way. A dog that used to bite will bite again, no matter how strong the bond between him and his owner is. And you aren’t his owner, anyway. You can’t even call yourself his friend — not anymore.

“I thought I’d have enough time to think things over while I was recovering,” you croak through tears. “Every day in that hospital bed was spent thinking of you and Moon. I was—”

“Angry?” Sun asks.

“No!”

“Then why—?” His voice twists with the same bitterness as the dread in your stomach, almost a plead. “Why didn’t you say anything? A phone call, a letter, anything—”

“I was scared!” Despair pours from your throat like a leaky faucet having finally burst. “I almost died, Sun. I — I wasn’t sure what to do, where to go from there. I thought I just needed time, but everything happened so fast, it all passed so quickly, and the company—”

“You were fired?”

Your teeth clatter sharply against each other, lips pinching together, tongue tied. The clock tick tick ticks away. “They told me if I didn’t return that week I shouldn’t bother coming back at all. I…I could have kept my job, I could have come back, put the nightmares up on the top shelf and hope that everything just went back to normal, but…”

“You didn’t have to figure it out alone,” he answers solemnly. “Had you told us what you were going through, we could have figured something out, helped you transfer to another department or— or at least given you space. We would have come up with something.” Sun’s shoulders slump forward with a quiet, mechanical clink. He rubs anxiously at his arm and looks away from you. “Did you even like us?”

Your heart squeezes like it’s going to burst and plummets to the soles of your shoes, aching the whole way. Every instance of the love you felt for them comes barreling down on you at once; every fond memory, every moment of laughter, every hardship that you faced together. You never got the chance to tell them. “Of course I do,” you exclaim. “I lo—”

The room plunges into darkness. There is no twitch or flicker of the fluorescents to warn you, no method of hastily restoring power, nothing to keep stripes from becoming stars. Bittersweet familiarity sinks its teeth into your skin with nothing more than the quiet toll of a bell. His gaze blankets you in crimson.

You inhale sharply and prepare for the worst. “Moon—”

“Get out,” he snarls.

You flinch a foot back, but go no further. “Let me explain—”

“No.”

Your brow creases, nose wrinkling to match. “I’m not leaving,” you declare. “Why won’t you hear out what I have to say?”

“You’re a liar,” he spits, each word threaded with anger. Unlike Sun, he has no problems advancing towards you step by slow, meandered step. “Why would we want to hear a liar speak?”

Your heart twitches in your throat, threatening to suffocate you with every breath. Sun accused you of a great many things, all of which you are surely guilty of, but being a liar isn’t one of them. “I didn’t—”

“You left us!” He snarls. “Promised you wouldn’t. Promised you weren’t like the rest. You lied. Liar, liar, liar.”

His outburst convinces you to fall back another step. At this rate he’ll corner you, walk you against a wall. He’ll— “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you insist, blinking through tears. “Either of you.”

“Liar!”

You break into a sob. “I’m not—”

“Get out,” he repeats, not sparing you the patience to further plead your case. He’s nearly erased the distance between you. “Won’t ask again.”

The croak in his voicebox doesn’t stem wholly from anger, of that you are certain. You can trace it all the way back to that very night when he came back to himself, hands still painted red, claws cinched to the bone. 

He had rushed into action, even if it was in vain. Daycare first-aid kits offer little more than boo-boo bandaids and palm sized ice packs, and as it stood, you were bleeding out in his arms. Despite his own personal biases he had called out for help, and help answered in the form of red and blue lights that blinked just outside the window. 

Your memory of the event is still fuzzy around the edges even now, yet still, there are two things you remember without any doubt. First, that Moon trembled with such vigor that his casing bears scars to this day from the metal rubbing together, and second, that he spoke to you endlessly, tirelessly, until they took you away. The cadence from that night hasn’t disappeared with time. 

It isn’t anger, it’s fear.

A dog that has bit before will inevitably bite again, and a dog that fears losing what it loves will refuse to let itself love at all.

Against your better judgement, you firmly stand your ground. “I’m not leaving,” you tell him. “Not until I’ve said what I came here to say.”

“Aren’t you scared?” 

It catches you off guard.

“That’s what you told Sun, isn’t it? I might hurt you again,” he warns. “Run your skin beneath my claws, tear it to bloody pieces until there’s nothing left.” His hand twitches at his side. “Maybe this time I’ll really kill you. Aren’t you scared?”

Your feet remain planted in that spot even as every molecule of your being screams at you to run. You are anchored here, for better or for worse, even as he inches ever closer. Even as he raises his hand — old blood still caked beneath the claws — and lingers beside the old wound.

“Yes,” you answer. It halts him immediately, hand still poised at your cheek. “I’m scared, I’m terrified, that much is true, but…” your eyes trace him, each pointed nail and crimson stained finger, the lilt in his voice that spells remorse as deep and as wide as your own.

Despite it all, your eyes fall shut. “...I trust you.”

Moon remains stone still. You hear no whisper of his bell, can feel no greater heat from his vents. He surely watches you to see how much truth lies in your commitment, searching your face for any hint of malice and trickery, but he won’t find any. You’re done running. You’re through with hiding.

He lurches forward—

and embraces you fully, metal frame trembling on its hinges. 

“Thought we lost you,” he whispers. “You left. You left us.”

“I know,” you whisper in turn. Warily you echo the gesture, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close, closer than you’ve ever been allowed before. “I’m sorry,” your words spill across his chest. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ll never leave you again—”

“Don’t.” He pulls away abruptly, holding you back with locked elbows, and the sudden absence leaves you cold. “No more promises. We can’t—” he whines beneath the palm you bring against his cheek, but nevertheless relaxes into it. “Can’t handle it. Another broken promise.”

“But—”

“Please,” he mutters. “No promises. Just this is fine. This—” His hand travels meekly upward to rest atop your own. “This is enough.”

It stings, as it very well should, but you aren’t going to argue with him about this. A nod answers him, simple as. You have all the time in the world to prove to them that you aren’t going anywhere this time.

There are a million and one things to say now that you finally have the chance. A year’s worth of events to catch them up on and the whole night to discuss it all, just like old times. You’ll make new friendship bracelets, read each other stories, gossip and laugh and play. There is still something worth saving, here. They haven’t given up on you yet.

But rebuilding a relationship requires honesty, it requires communication, and there is still one secret you’re hiding. The question is, how do you go about it without tarnishing what you’ve only just salvaged? What should you say, and how should you say it? The amount of times you’ve stuck your foot in your mouth while trying to do the right thing is not insignificant. But if you don’t tell them now, you might not get the chance again.

“I still haven’t told you…” Your eyes follow the curve of his face, the familiar way with which he lets your hand cradle his cheek, and in spite of everything a smile sneaks its way forward for the first time in ages. “I never stopped loving you, you know,” you whisper. “I care about you both — more than I’ve ever had the courage to say.”

Slowly, surely, you find yourself stretching onto your toes, finally feeling brave.

His vents breath against your palms, warm steam tickling between your fingers. Telltale fumes itch beneath your nose that smell faintly of burnt wires and old oil. 

A sputtering core kicks into third gear as your face nears his. Electricity bounces from his casing to dance against your fingertips until you’re breathless and floating. You can almost taste the cold metal beneath your lips, just a breath standing between them now. Almost. Almost.

“You have to let us go.”

Your blood freezes over, paralyzing you to the core. You don’t immediately pull back for fear of what you might find. But you have to face the music eventually.

Moon is painstakingly careful as he cleans your tears with the base of his thumb. He looks you over mournfully as though taking in your presence one last time. Then he laughs, short and sweet. “Nap time is over, starlight.”

You wake up.

The pillow is wet beneath your cheek, salty and cold. You stare at the wall bleary eyed, feeling an ache in your chest that eats at you now more than ever. How pitiful, how cruel, to be haunted by missed opportunities. Guilty pleasures of received forgiveness and enough time to make things right. The chance to fix everything held just out of your reach.

You turn against your pillow to reach the other side, taking your blankets with you, but even with their weight at your shoulders you feel impossibly cold. There is nothing to reach for anymore.

The glow of a television paints your back. Turned to the news, it’s been left on all night. You remember now. You remember everything.

The reporter talks about a fire.

You try to will yourself back to sleep.

[cherryeclipses]

i love you, i'm sorry ☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

dean winchester x reader

angst, childhood lovers to enemies (potentially to lovers again), i love writing angsty dean I'm sorry. warning - I hardly edit any of my writing sorry

word count: 2.1K

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

cause that's just the way life goes ...

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

You were 16 when you met Dean Winchester, he and his brother Sam were new to your school. The moment you met you instantly had a crush on the boy, he was charming, funny, dangerous, and downright sexy. The only problem was every other girl in your grade felt the same thing, hell even some of the guys did. Dean had the kind of energy when he walked into a room all eyes were on him. It wasn't until a few months later when you would finally speak to him, it turns out his dad and yours were friends; hunting friends. Okay maybe friends is too much, more like acquaintances, they would help each other if they were hunting the same thing. John and your father had decided now that John was to be in your hometown for at least the next few months that the three of you kids could keep each other company.

The first time the three of you met officially it was a horrible stormy night. Something straight out of a horror movie, the rain was pelting against the windows, making them rattle, and thunder clapped so loud in the distance it sounded as though the apocalypse was beginning. John came over to your house with Sam and Dean to sit down with your father and go over the lore of whatever monster they were hunting now. "Darlin' you remember John Winchester?" Your dad said lazily, gesturing to the elder Winchester. You just nodded politely. "Well these are his sons, Dean and little Sam. " He continued. "I know, I've met them already." Both fathers looked at you confused for a moment. "I mean, they started at school last month. I think I have a couple classes with Dean." You shrugged, trying to play it off. You caught Dean's expression from the corner of your eye, he was smirking at you, one eyebrow raised in interest.

As the two men retreated to spend the night in the study you were left standing in the kitchen with Sam and Dean, awkwardly. "I'll show you both to the living room, we can order a pizza or something?" You turned on your heels and the boys followed you into the next room. You sat on one end of the couch, Sam on the other and Dean sat in the armchair across from you. Sam started flicking absentmindedly through the tv channels, trying to drown out the uncomfortable silence. "It must be nice to have a real home and don't have to move schools all the time." Sam spoke up. "Uh yeah, I guess it's alright. I mean it'd be even better if dad wasn't a hunter at all." You gave the young boy a sympathetic smile. You looked up to see Dean still staring at you, you couldn't tell if he was eyeing you off or judging you; but either way it looked like he was about to eat you. You felt your face heat up, your crush sitting meters across from you, in your house. It was unreal.

The rest of the night dragged on, you watched a few movies and ordered pizza, none of you talking very much. Eventually Sam fell asleep so you got up off the couch to cover him with a blanket. As you passed Dean to pick up the blanket he finally spoke up. "So what classes do we have together?" He asked innocently. "What?" You asked startled. "When your dad was introducing us you said we have a few classes together. A beautiful girl like you, I'd remember. So I'm curious." You were stunned, there's no way he just said that. "Um I think English and history maybe." You answered, sitting back down besides the sleeping boy. "No wonder I haven't seen you." He laughed. "There's no way anyone could make me sit in the most boring classes of the day." You rolled your eyes, yeah sure they were tedious but you actually wanted to graduate. "So what do you do with all your spare time then? Surely not studying?" Now it was Dean's turn to blush, you had heard a few notorious stories about Dean and a certain janitor's closet. He just shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

Ever since that night Dean started showing up to his English and history classes, and not only showing up but coming in early to make sure he had the seat beside you. During breaks he would find you out by the football field and join you for lunch. You had so much in common, not just your unstable life as a hunter's kid but same taste in music and cars. It felt like you finally met your soulmate.

Eight months later it was time for the Winchester's to move on. The longest they had stayed anywhere (thanks to Dean) but John wouldn't be delayed any longer, he had a lead two states away and was determined to follow it. The night before he left, Dean snuck in through your window to say goodbye. Gifting you a dainty necklace adorned with your birthstone - you didn't even realise Dean knew what a birthstone was! "What's this for Dean? So my heart can break everytime I put it on?" You ask, looking up at the boy with tears in your eyes. He takes your left hand, running his thumb over your knuckles comfortingly. "No, this isn't goodbye forever, just for now. Just until dad ganks this son of a bitch and then I can come and see you again. I promise. Just wanted to get something for my favourite girl." He leant down to place a kiss on the top of your head. Wrapping your arms around him you pulled him in for the tightest hug you could muster. "I don't believe you, but I still love you." You chuckle against his chest. You feel his heart skip a beat, pausing before he replies "I love you too."

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

It didn't take long after graduating high school for you to fall into the hunter's life. After spending your senior year fighting with your dad about the future, you did exactly what he expected and gave in. He had taught you how to hunt from the age you could hold a shotgun.

It was the reason your mum left.

Although you were fulfilling your destiny of becoming a hunter, you refused to hunt with him. After a particularly explosive fight you called your boyfriend. Dean knew about your daily arguments but he also could feel that this one was different. This fight was bad enough, pushed you far enough to call him crying and begging to meet him wherever he was. Dean was currently hunting a vampire nest with John only a six hour drive from you. The minute your phone lit up with an address you jumped in your car and sped off. Not looking back for a second.

"She's on her way." Dean announced to John, shoving his phone back into his pocket. John sighed in response "she'll get her anger out on this hunt then she'll drive right back home. Don't expect her to stay with us. Even if she wants to, the answer's no." He said solemnly. "I don't think so, this is different. She hates this life, so it'd have to be really bad." John nodded not looking up from his paper. He tolerated yours and Dean's relationship. He had nothing against you personally, he just didn't believe you could be in a relationship and live their life. He would put up with you for as long as it took you to realise that and run off to find someone stable.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

That was almost four years ago. Since then you had joined the Winchester family on most of their hunts, surprising John with not only how well you could research and retain lore information but also how quick you were in a fight.

You had begun to grow close to Sam, he was like your best friend and the little brother you never had. When you were left alone to research he would often confide in you his feelings and dreams for the future.

One evening Dean returned to the motel alone, John abandoned him for a dive bar down the road, to you and Sam asleep on the couch. Your head resting atop his, your hoodie covering the younger boy from the chill in the air. Dean adored how you loved Sammy, how you both got along and you took care of him. He kissed your cheek and noticed how cold you were. Removing his eather jacket and gently placing it around your shoulders before settling into bed for the night. He didn't dare wake the two of you.

Over the years, you had the privilege of watching Sam grow into a young man and live out his dream of leaving the hunting life for college. The weekend before he left he made sure to visit you to say goodbye. Hugging you goodbye and making sure you had his new number but not before making you promise you wouldn't give it to Dean or John. "Cross my heart. I'll take this phone number to my grave along with every embarrassing crush you've told me about." You giggled, making an x across your heart. "Okay, okay, thank you. I just want to start over and I can't if they're trying to track me down." He smiled sadly. You looked up at Sam (he had now grown 10 feet tall and towered over you) "I get it but I can't promise they won't try to track you down anyways." You shrugged before giving the boy one final hug goodbye. "Good luck little Sammy." You joked as he left for good.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

Ever since Sam left things had become tense among the Winchesters. Well, more tense than they already were. John was more irritable, it seemed like he would take his sadness and frustration out on you, yelling at the smallest mistakes or refusing to give you details on their next hunt. Dean was torn, it was wearing him down, trying to deal with his brother leaving and his father and girlfriend fighting. You had had enough and had thoughts about leaving for awhile, just taking a few solo hunts away from John until things cooled down - you really wished you could steal Dean away as well but that would make things so much worse.

"-absolutely not! You go out there and do what needs to be done Dean. This has been going on for far too long and you know it." You heard John shout from inside his and Dean's motel room. "You don't know what you're talking about, she's the best damn hunter we've ever worked with." Dean responded, sounding just as furious. You hesitated going inside. You were going to tell Dean about your plan to give John some space but now, now they were fighting about you. You took a step back, you couldn't just leave without saying goodbye, so you waited. Anxiously twisting the birthstone around your neck your back against the wall, you waited for the screaming match to be over.

"She's bad news, always has been. Just like her damn father Dean. You can't keep dragging her around, it ain't fair." "I love her. " Dean growled. "You wouldn't know love if it hit you in the face." And with that the motel door flung open to reveal a furious Dean.

Tears stung your eyes, threatening to overflow. "How much of that did you hear?" Dean asked. "Enough." Dean took a deep breath and led you away from the motel door. "Look, I'm sorry. Honestly I never wanted you to hear that fight. But there's something I gotta say." Your breath caught in your throat, it felt like you were going to puke. You couldn't say anything back, so you just waited for him to go on, "I-Jesus-I can't do this anymore." He chokes out. "We need to break up." Tears pour down your cheeks silently. "We need to? Or John wants us to?" You seethe. "We need to. It's not fair, you never wanted this life. I know what you wanted, you truly want what Sam left for. An apple pie life. You could still go to College, meet someone normal. I can't, no I won't, keep bringing you down like this." His voice raises. "Seriously? After everything. You're giving in?" Nothing. Dean stands there, looking like a lost puppy. "Fine, I'll leave, I know when I'm not wanted. But before I go, I hope you're aware you sound just like John now. Congratulations." You whip around and walk as fast as your legs will take you to your car. Speeding off down the highway, making sure to stick your middle finger out the window for Dean to see.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

currently writing a part 2

[encasedinobsidian]

Life According to Joel

Happy birthday @netherfeildren !! This is my gift to you <333 Thanks for being my friend, for being kind and understanding and funny and cool, for entertaining me and letting me freeload. If it weren't for you and your unfathomable talent, I'm sure I'd be illiterate, and Din Djarin would be nothing but a tuna can. I think of you every time I see a mini truck, a rat tail, or Matthew McCououghougohgouneyay. You are my personal Rust Cohle, and I hope my Marty-ness enriches your life like your odd shit enriches mine. YEEHAW AND ILY !!

Summary: Joel having the worst day ever Word count: 2.5k Rating: A for effort

Monday. Joel is startled awake by the blaring scream of a car alarm and a leaf blower outside his bedroom window, at six AM. And to his misfortune, the day doesn’t get much better after that. 

He reasons that he’s been through worse, and that he could’ve woken up to the fire alarm signaling that his own house is in flames, so with some reluctance, he gets up and drags his feet to the bathroom. His electric toothbrush is no longer standing up against the mirror next to the sink where it has been every morning for the last fifteen years. 

Something soft brushes against his bare leg, and he looks down to see Fluffles’s tail curling around his calf, which brings his attention to the litter box. His toothbrush is lying inside of the sand, and the top of the box is sitting beside it, forgotten. 

Just an inconvenience, he thinks, grabbing a temporary toothbrush from the Dollar General that he fishes out of the cabinet below the sink. However, his confidence wanes somewhat when he returns to the bedroom after a shower — a shower with significantly reduced water pressure, that is — and grabs his phone, seeing that the charger is halfway out of the wall socket and that his battery is at twenty percent. There’s a message on his screen regarding his advertisement on Facebook Marketplace for a TV he’s been trying to sell for the reasonable price of three hundred dollars. The message was sent five minutes ago. 

$80? I can pick it up asap

A shitty offer, but an offer nonetheless. He responds back. 

Sure. Can you pick it up in thirty minutes?

Yes, the person says.

He sends his address and leaves the bedroom, goes downstairs and hears the doorbell ring. Two young boys stand on the doorstep, both in ties and name tags, asking if he has a minute to speak about religion. Not wanting to shake their confidence, he lets them stumble through their prepared monologue for a minute, but Joel begins to tense up when he sees a FedEx truck approaching his property, likely carrying a package that was held up for two weeks and is finally due to arrive. The boys’ voices blend in with each other, and Joel watches the delivery driver cast one look at his house, just as the truck slows, before looking ahead and driving off instead. 

Kindly, but a little bit affectless, Joel bids the missionaries goodbye and closes the door behind him while he shakes his head. Two pieces of bread are lowered into the toaster as he looks at the time and notices that Sarah’s alarm has yet to go off, reminding him that she has the day off from school for ‘independent study’. He grabs a large post-it note from a drawer as well as a thick marker, and begins to write. 

PLEASE KNOCK

FOR DELIVERY

I AM HOME 

Joel has never been a superstitious man, and multiple inconveniences can happen at once, so no, he does not consider himself shaken. 

The toaster pops and it smells burnt — Tommy was over on the weekend and never adjusted the thing back to its previous setting, and now Joel’s pieces of bread are one shade away from completely black. He moves on, shakes it off, grabs a knife and scrapes the burnt layer into the sink. The radio is playing on low but the same ad keeps running on loop, likely something glitching on the station’s end. 

When he cracks five eggs into a bowl, the last one shatters and a piece of eggshell, just big enough to be noticeable when he squints, disappears into the bottom of the bowl. He takes a deep breath, blaming himself for poor egg-cracking technique, and grabs one of the shells, dipping it in to chase that tiny piece around. Slowly, he moves it, trying not to create any waves that would wash the piece away, but just as he’s about to catch it, Sarah appears in the doorway and startles him, losing the eggshell to the abyss of egg once again. 

The wrong burner is on for about a minute before he realizes. He notices too late that the grounds in the coffee machine are from yesterday. 

While waiting for the TV-pickup, he checks his email and sees that some test results from the doctor are available in his health portal. The results, however, seem somewhat jumbled and unfinished.

UNSTABLE LIKELY PROSTATE CANCER

The inevitable anxiety gets him for a moment before he can practice any sort of logic, his stomach sinking at the words on the screen. There must be some explanation for this, he reasons, as he grabs his phone and calls the office. 

“Hello?” answers the girl on the other end, “Dr. Ramirez’s office. How can I help you?”

Joel rubs the tips of his fingers across his forehead while he looks at the screen, explaining his shock at the test results that were only supposed to show his blood pressure and cholesterol. 

“Oh, shit,” she says, “Uh—”

Not a reassuring answer. He glances at the time and sees that his buyer is supposed to be here any minute. 

“That is a HIPAA violation, isn’t it?” she asks. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t admit that his heart is racing, but instead clears his throat. 

“It looks like you got someone else’s results,” says the secretary. “I’m so sorry, it also looks like we lost your blood test and results and everything somehow. I’m gonna send you another requisition to print out and bring to the lab, okay?” 

They exchange a few pleasantries, he looks over to the printer to make sure it’s on, and in the paper tray is a document entirely covered in black ink, with a one-inch margin around the dark square. When he presses the power button, it informs him that it is out of ink. 

Fifteen minutes past when the buyer is supposed to arrive, he messages them, and receives no reply. 

His phone rings. It’s the shop where his truck is supposed to be ready today after a week of repairs and Joel having to carpool with Tommy to work. 

“Hey Joel,” is followed by a nervous laugh. “So, this isn’t gonna cost you anything, don’t worry—”

Joel groans. 

“But the repairs will take a little longer. Our apprentice kind of… Well, he fucked up, and now we have to fix it.” 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I assure you I’m not, but your truck will be ready in two days, alright? We got a rental for you, just come get it whenever.” 

He hangs up without saying goodbye. His message to the buyer is marked as read, ten minutes ago. When his phone does light up as he’s putting on his boots, about to leave for work, it’s from an unknown number. 

hey randy, pls send the $50 for the tournament. jane’s up my ass abt it 

For five years, he has received messages from various numbers, looking for a man named Randy, and despite how many numbers he blocks, they never seem to stop, and this Randy seems to owe a lot of people various sums of cash. 

Joel responds, This is not Randy’s number, sorry. 

And in return, he gets a somewhat hostile message.

oldest trick in the fucking book 

He orders an Uber to the car mechanic’s shop, and is surcharged thirty percent, but at least there’s no lineup at the front desk when he arrives. Maybe his luck has changed, he thinks, looking at the new trucks in the front of the lot. 

However, when the receptionist leads him to the back and gestures towards his options, he realizes his only choice is a Japanese mini truck. “JDM ninety-five Suzuki,” the lady says, and she really is trying to put a positive spin on it, “Very convenient.” 

“Are you messing with me?” Joel asks, flatly.

She smiles at him, and her voice is very cheery when she says, “It has five speeds.” 

“Fantastic.” He rolls his eyes and grabs the keys she hands him. There’s a lizard on the windshield he only spots when he opens the door and crams inside, adjusting the seat what little it allows, and his arms are stuffed in-between his knees when he pushes the keys into the ignition. The seat belt is a lost cause. 

His brother calls him and he picks up reluctantly, though he doesn’t get the chance to say anything before Tommy asks him, “Could you drop by Home Depot and get a few things?” 

“No.”

“Come on, man. Do me a solid.”

“Can’t. Truck won’t be done ‘till tomorrow. I got a rental.”

“And?”

“I’m ass to ankles here, Tommy,” he says, “I’m in the smallest truck I’ve ever seen.”

Then he hangs up. 

At least he doesn’t have prostate cancer, he thinks, as he pulls out of the parking lot and gets onto the road, where he’s stuck in traffic surrounded by box trucks in stop-and-go traffic. Another lizard lands on the windshield with a smack, thrown off the side of the U-Haul in front of him. 

Upon arrival at the worksite, his coworker informs him that their order of concrete has been delayed, and asks if Joel can text their supervisor. He tries to keep it concise. 

Hey. Concrete is delayed so we’re completely halted. Could you call the supplier? Thanks. - Joel

In return, after waiting for twenty minutes, he receives a photo from his supervisor of a clear, blue ocean and golden sand.

Jet ski, it says below the photo. 

Great. 

He makes himself busy until lunch time, when he pulls a plastic container out of his backpack and realizes that the empty container of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter! that contained a sandwich was somehow shuffled around in the fridge, getting mistaken for the one actually containing margarine. And so Joel finds himself lunch-less, exhausted, baking in the sunshine of mid-day, wondering what he has done to deserve this. 

He leaves work a few hours early. There’s no way his supervisor would find out, and if he does, he’ll be too drunk by eight PM to remember. Somehow, over the last few hours, Joel forgot about the tiny truck waiting for him a block away from the worksite, but is reminded when he spots it as he turns the corner. 

It’s hot as hell inside of it now, after parking in the sun without thinking, and there’s barely any air circulation when just his body takes up seventy percent of the cabin. 

He drives it to Costco anyway. All of the grilled chickens are snatched from the shelf in front of his eyes, nobody can steer their shopping carts in the right direction, they’re out of everything bagels, and he stands in a lineup for ten minutes only to realize it’s not a lineup for anything at all but merely people standing around. Out he goes, after thinking he lost his credit card only to find it in the wrong slot of his wallet, to the tiny truck now parked between two Range Rovers, with a case of Diet Coke and a sixty-pack of eggs. They fit in the front seat next to him, barely. 

At his house, FedEx has left a package slip on top of the note he left for the delivery driver. Sarah is still home. When she looks up at him from the dining table and her homework, he greets her with a grunt, carrying in the groceries. A can of Coke falls to the floor as he stacks them in the fridge, and it bursts open, spraying soda in multiple directions, soaking his socks and the floor around him. Sarah folds over in laughter, but Joel watches in silence as the can empties, and his arms are full of the remaining ones. 

Finally, while on his knees next to Sarah, mopping up the soda while she tries to stifle her laugh, he comes to terms with the reality that this Monday is simply not his day. He therefore does not take the chance on cooking, and decides to pick up dinner on the way home after putting on a load of laundry and running more errands.

With the package slip in his hand, he steps back into the godforsaken mini truck and starts it. He does not wave when he sees his neighbor passing on the street. At the FedEx store, the door is locked when he tries to open it. There’s a sign on the door asking him to scan a QR code to see the store hours. 

At the barbeque spot down the road, Joel stands in line with the package notice in his back pocket and his arms folded, for twenty minutes. In front of him is a woman speaking on video call to her mother, trying to solve a computer problem. He manages to filter out the repeated words and sentences, enjoying the seemingly only reprieve from his day from hell, wondering if his luck has turned. Again, he remembers that it could be worse. He could have had prostate cancer. 

Inside the restaurant, he’s up next, but the girl ahead of him is asking about every item on the other side of the glass, looking up at the man working behind the counter while he explains. She takes a moment to think, and he asks her, “Are those color contacts?”

“No,” she says, smiling, holding up the line, and Joel rolls his eyes. 

The man piles extra ribs onto her plate when she moves to the cash register, then reaches under the bench and pulls out a sign that he tapes to the glass in a swift motion.

OUT OF BEEF RIBS

“What can I get ya?” he asks Joel. 

On the way out, with takeout containers in hand, Joel absentmindedly throws his coins into the trash, and the wrapper of his straw stays in his hand. The same straw disintegrates immediately when he takes a second sip of the sweet tea inside. 

After dinner, with a piece of brisket stuck between his teeth, he takes out the laundry from the washer. The pile is soaking wet, dripping onto his fresh pair of socks, and as he turns the corner to wring out the clothes over the sink in the bathroom, the edge of a dresser scratches his side. Somehow, it had been pulled out a few inches from the wall. 

In the kitchen, he opens the freezer to see that Sarah’s forgotten can of soda has exploded and covered the entire drawer. His attempt at salvaging the evening is met with a hollow, overpriced soft serve ice cream, and a chipped beer bottle. An email informs him that he has won a raffle and, well, Joel finds himself thinking that perhaps it’s best to grasp his only good fortune of the day, so he jumps through the hoops, verifies, waits for one-time codes and accepts terms & conditions, only find out he has won a grand total of five dollars. 

He gets a message from the Facebook marketplace lowballer. 

i dropped by at noon but u werent home

Joel rolls his eyes and he puts his phone down while he shuts off his computer, looking at the sprinklers in the yard that have apparently stopped working. His phone lights up again, this time with a text message from an unknown number. 

hey randy. guess u were too busy to visit grandma before it was too late. get fucked

this is dave btw i got a new phone 

It could always be worse.

[girlyhornywriter]

You're still worried you're going to regret this?

Come on, pig. It's a little late for that, isn't it? You know there's no going back to how things used to be. Not now, after what you've done to yourself. Don't give me that look, you know this wasn't all my idea.

You just wouldn't stop begging to know about my fantasies... I didn't have any choice but to sate your curiosity and tell you that I liked bigger girls. Girls that jiggle when they walk and get out of breath when they walk up the stairs. You know, fat girls. You were so slim, and I didn't expect that you'd want to satisfy my kinks like that, but you said that you'd maybe gain a little weight for me, just so I could squeeze your belly while we made out. Nothing crazy, just an extra meal here and there. You'd keep it under control.

It's not my fault that your fat ass lost all self-control.

You were just having too much fun, weren't you? You loved feeling my hands caressing your soft, sensitive curves. The way I always slipped a hand under your top to give your gut a squeeze whenever I pulled you in for a kiss must have done more to your poor, horny brain than I could have ever imagined...

Well, of course I noticed what was happening, but did you expect me to say anything? You have no idea how much I loved watching you go back for seconds and thirds every time we went to a buffet. I couldn't get enough of hearing your sheepish voice asking if we had any ice-cream left in the freezer immediately after finishing an extra-large dinner. And maybe I didn't help your waistline by offering to drive you everywhere... But at your size back then, you'd have gotten so worn out and exhausted by having to walk more than a couple of blocks.

Not any more, though. Now you can't even make it to the end of the street.

Oh, you think I'm exaggerating? Babe, you haven't hauled your fat, lazy ass off of that couch in days. If it wasn't for the fact that I keep throwing away all your empty bags of snacks once you've poured them down your greedy throat, I'm pretty sure you'd be buried in them by now. Come on, just try to stand up.

...

Gosh, you really tried there, didn't you? There's no way you'd be panting and sweating like this if you hadn't been putting effort into that. I knew you'd become a fat mess, but I didn't realise it was this bad... You're all blubber and lard now, aren't you? Whatever muscle you had is so lost under layer upon layer of soft, jiggling flab that there's no way you're going to work off all these calories of adipose you've eaten onto your figure.

Well yeah, maybe a diet would work, but I'm not going to let you go on one, piglet.

Why? Because I've got you right where I've always wanted you, princess. You're too fat to move and too well-trained as a mindless, gluttonous cow to undo the damage you've done. I might not have made you gain all this weight, but I'm not about to see it melt away either. I love the way it feels too much, the way you jiggle with every movement, the way it pins you to the couch and only grows softer and heavier every time I feed you.

If I were you, piglet, I'd get used to this. Learn to enjoy it, because I certainly will... Maybe if you're a good girl for me, I'll find you some clothes that actually fit over your immense bulk. Though anything I find isn't going to fit you for very long - You're so big and obese, piggy, but you've still got a long way to go...

[a-friendly-fangirl]

"I Can't Hear It Now" is a CaitVi song (and I can prove it)

Ok, I know how this might sound, like I'm trying to make everything CaitVi related and I have no respect for Cait's loss and her feelings.

I promise though, that this might actually make sense... and if it does, then it's gonna be heartbreaking.

FIrst of all, I'd like to say that Freya Ridings' "I Can't Hear It Now" has been my favourite song since the very beginning of Arcane's second season, shattering my soul in enough pieces to make a challenging puzzle. The words and the way they're sung are heartfelt and moving, taking us through the kaleidoscope of feelings Cait experiences during her mother's funeral.

I'm a sucker for good music adding meaning to a show and its scenes and Arcane is exactly the kind of show that'd do that, so I've been eager to fully explore each song in the show's context, starting with this one.

When I first listened to it, I immediately thought that it was Caitlyn pleading Cassandra for guidance through her grief and her sense of guilt, because, as Cait herself admits, her mother left a huge hole in Piltover's political scene and in her own family and she has no clue as to how deal with it.

"Just tell me how to keep breathing while pretending I'm not drowning" seemed to me as something one would ask to their parent, were they a person with an important political role, having to constantly keep up appearances. Caitlyn, young and in mourning as she is after her mother's death, is also left alone to face publicly the loss, because her father is clearly in no condition to do that and she doesn't know what she's supposed to do to be a good replacement for both of her parents. I think everyone would understand, if she were to pray her deceased mother for help.

With time, though, I started rethinking my whole interpretation, because a few elements seemed off. Two are the ones that matter the most:

To be a song about a Piltovan dealing with grief by conversing with her lost one, it would've been weirdly spiritual. Although I don't know much about the city's lore, a quick research clarified that Piltover doesn't seem to have an official religion or religious belief and, in my experience, talking to a deceased person and asking them for guidance is something deeply rooted in spirituality and religion. Of course, when mourning everyone can talk to their lost ones as a form of coping mechanism, but in the song it is explicitly stated that the person Caitlyn is talking to can see her (Where you watch while these dreams gently float away), which is something we never hear from her. Caitlyn, actually, believes exactly on the contrary, which is that her mother has left a duty she doesn't know how to fulfill and she can't turn to her to find her way; in fact, she never appeals to Cassandra in any fashion. She remembers her, probably wonders whether she's proud of her or not, but she never reaches out to her directly. Long story short, then, the lyrics seem directed more to a living person than to a dead one;

Some lines simply don't apply to Cassandra. Look, I know I shouldn't take every word literally, but here some things wouldn't make any sense anyway. Like the way your voice always sounds when you sing to me doesn't appear to me as a line I could ever imagine Cait addressing to her mother. Cassandra, even though she wasn't a terrible mother, was still an estimated Councillor and head of one of Piltover's richest and strongest families. She raised her daughter hoping some day she'd take over and sit proudly on her seat at the Council table. Caitlyn was educated as an aristocrat without wanting to be one ("I know you doubt the merit of your birthright, Caitlyn"), which sparked several arguments between them. Cassandra, despite loving her daughter, could never fully accept or understand her and her upbringing and position probably made everything worse. In other terms, Cassandra wasn't probably the kind of mum that'd sing Caitlyn lullabies. Also, again, the verb is conjugated in the present tense, as if the person addressed in the song was still alive. Just tell me how to keep breathing while pretending I'm not drowning sounded pretty odd to me as well. While it is undoubtly true that Cassandra was probably a professional pretender because of her social position, what Caitlyn is asking for is something much deeper: she's asking to be pulled out from a black hole of sorrow and hatred. It takes experience to put on a good poker face when given such a challenge and, even if we don't know much about Cassandra herself, I could guess that she'd have lacked that sort of knowledge.

Going briefly back to the funeral scene, we can all recall that, while Cassandra and Caitlyn were both in colour, there was also another character highlighted as the heart of that moment: Vi. Vi, who, as it is made perfectly clear through the whole second season, is Caitlyn's anchor. She's the person she relies on the most, starting a war to save her father and letting go of the person she despises the most for her. She goes through her plan with her, asking her what Jinx's fate should be. Vi's the person she turns to when she feels like breaking down instead of her own dad. In other words, in such a desperate moment, if Caitlyn needed someone to talk to, she'd go to Vi.

And that's when the song starts making even more sense:

. There is an ocean so dark down below the waves/ Where you watch while these dreams gently float away: while Caitlyn's saying goodbye to her mother, Vi... watches. Almost like a worried guardian, she keeps her distance while empathising with her girl's feelings, literally watching while their dreams of peace, love and freedom leave with the coffin;

. And there is a silence so soft it's only memory/ Like the way your voice always sounds when you sing to me: this is such a CaitVi thing to me. Do you remember the wind chimes scene? Her thought of Jinx makes the wind grow furious just like her, while the thought of Vi calms her down. When Cait is tormented by the terrifying noise of Jinx's laughter breaking the silence, Vi comes in and restores it. It's no accident that the only music we can hear in the end is Vi's singing, a soft humming;

. But I can't hear it now/ Just tell me how to keep breathing while pretending I'm not drowning: to enjoy silence and not feel suffocated by it, your mind must be at peace. At the very beginning of the season, Cait's isn't. Her anger, her sense of guilt scream loud enough to drown Vi's voice. Still, Caitlyn turns to her, because Vi's the only person in her life that knows what she's going through. In fact, when Caitlyn's losing it, because she has no idea of how to fill the hole left by Cassandra, it is Vi that replies: "It gets smaller, but you never fill it".

So here it is, I rest my case.

[she-whatshername]

You’ve been so good to us the past few days so no pressure, but what would our favorite tyrrish men do for Valentine’s Day? 💘💌

Hello!

We may be a day late but never a valentine love short. I hope this still fills your cup!

Onyx Storm Spoilers below, you've been advised

Garrick

This man

This tall person

This dimpled cutie

Does he ask to be your valentine? No. He just assumes he is. Because who wouldn't want to be his Valentine?

If anything he'd make you ask him. "Wait. Love, aren't you forgetting to ask me something?"

What is he getting you? Even though he'd be, Garrick about the whole thing, I think he'd have something romantic and sentimental for you. I could see him tempering his signet into a small glass orb to wear around your neck, just a swirling piece of air constantly revolving in the glass representing his breath that he always says you take away every time you see him (someone please write a full fic on this please)

He also is the right type of cheeky to just be laying on your bed naked for when you come into your dorm like, "Surprise, love. Come take a bite." Dimples and all

Date Plans? Also, I know its classified and guarded but if you are a marked one and you know about second signets, he is absolutely distance wielding you across the contentment so he can boast that you two have hooked up in every province

Xaden

Onyx Storm has really soured my 'love to hate' vibe I had of Xaden because ho-my, name a better man at words of affirmation

I'll wait

Does he ask to be your valentine? Yes and no. He would assume that he is yours because why wouldn't you be....no really, why wouldn't you be?? But then his jealousy/insecurities is getting the best of him and he's finding you in your room like, "you're my Valentine right? And, I'm yours too right?"

And you're like "Xaden we've been married for years..." lolol

What is he getting you? Lavish gifts of affection. If he has the power and means, lots of flowers that he picked out in your favorite type and color

Instead of a card, its a letter. A full page note on his love for you

And, I do know this man loves a little sensual type of gift as well. Expect something to wear to dinner and something to wear for him to take off.

And make no plans for the day after because you will need a days rest afterwards.

Date Plans? Yes. And he's had them for awhile. However it's something simple. Its dinner together and cake on the roof of Riorson House watching the sunset. Honestly it's so amazing you both decided you'll do this every year for valentines day. Like when you two get older he builds a balcony on the roof so you both can sit safe and comfortably.

This sweet man!

Bodhi

Well hello there Mr Durran

Does he ask to be your valentine? Yes. Every year he does. And it's always something sweet like a note slipped under your door or something actually akin to a proposal.

And yes, he is asking if he can your valentine as well.

He does not assume, he has to ask. And he takes it very seriously to be your valentine. He's like, "I wont let you down." Like he's on a mission to make your happy on that day.

This man is loyal, we know this

What is he getting you? I've shared before but I think Bodhi was the mind behind the saddle for Violet. He's just naturally very crafty and can build things. So, I'd like to think that every year, instead of flowers he crafts up a gorgeous metal rose (or flower of your choice) and paints it. The color represents something that happened to you during your year together. It was brown when you bonded your dragon in your first year. Black when you finished your second year as a rider and got a leadership position. Green with golden edges when Xaden took the dutchy back in Tyrrendor. Purple the year you married.

Xaden and Garrick tease him when he's starting to craft a new rose, "What color this year, cousin?" "Will it be blue for that time she blue balled you when you two had to run off to the borders during that attack?"

But they both admire him for being so dedicated to you. Xaden makes sure any duties he has the week he's making you the rose are given to someone else

Date Plans? Yes. But its something sweet like a stroll through the gardens where he gives you the metal flower or riding together along the cliffs.

But....evening plans. Xaden doesn't know, he doesn't want to know but let's just say if he ever found out about what happens when you two do have some time together.

Because I just know Bodhi would love his partner in such a beautiful, infinite way

Xaden did say it would be a shame to end his only living relative, and that Bodhi is exceptional. I think that this would be the one category where Xaden is a few steps behind Bodhi lolol

[jayparked]

understandable understandable! i’d love a lil bro like him 🥺

i had a thought about Nicholas earlier. I saw a clip of him saying he likes being called Weno because Nicho/nicholas sounds too cute to him? so imagine poking fun at him like “awww Nico~ you’re so cute” and he’s gets gen pissed off and he’s like ok bbg let me show just how cute i can be

idk much about this man but 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

- 🍎

i'd love a lil bro like maki too 😞 he'd be the most annoying and loving brother ugh but yes ahem lemme write something about nico real quick...

WARNINGS: brat punisher nico? *blinks*, slightly bratty reader, lots of teasing, fingering, dirty talk, take a shot every time i say the word 'cute'

WC: 1094

SNAIL TRAIL: i dont wanna talk about it i dont wanna talk about it i dont wanna talk about it i dont wanna talk about it i dont wanna talk about it i dont wanna talk-

you and nicholas have been sitting on the couch watching a movie for a little over an hour now, but you haven't been able to sit still. you're bored. restlessly, tiredly, annoyedly bored. and poor nicholas is having to deal with the repercussions of it.

“you’re the one who wanted to watch this movie.” nicholas warns after you’ve poked his cheek for the hundredth time.

you pout and let out a dreamy sigh, pinching his cheek between your fingers before leaning in and kissing the spot lightly. “cant help it. you’re just so cute. my cutie nico you’re so much better than any dumb movie.”

nicholas’s eyebrows narrow, gaze flicking towards you. “i’m better than a movie, yeah, but not because i’m cute.”

the intentions behind his tone go unnoticed by you, too distracted by the urge to squish his face between your hands. right when you're about to give into those urges, nicholas grabs both of your wrists, his grip tight as he pulls you forward. he stops you just inches from his face, lowering his head so that his hooded gaze meets yours.

"and what do you think you're doing?"

you gulp loudly, eyes wide at the lowness of his tone.

"...just wanted to squish your cheeks," you say meekly. no longer able to hold eye contact, you look down at your lap. nicholas's eyes flick down to your lips, his thumbs unconsciously rubbing short lines down your wrists.

"you think i'm cute?" he says slowly, one eyebrow raising playfully. all you can do is nod your head slowly, not trusting his question. all it does it make him smirk, biting his bottom lip slightly, his eyes roaming over your body. "let me show you just how cute i can be then."

you yelp as nicholas pulls your arms forward more, his hands leaving your wrists to hold you under your arms instead. he lifts you as he stands up from the couch, pulling your body close to him before laying your back flat against the cushions. he hovers over you, enjoying how your eyes widen and your breath gets caught in your chest.

he leans down, his face now next to yours, "you still think i'm cute?" he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your ear. nicholas's hands are roaming along your side, his thumb stopping just short from brushing against the side of your chest. his touch is soft and light, in total contrast to the ruggedness of his tone.

again, all you can do is nod.

the smirk on nicholas's face fades quickly. he lifts his head so he can look into your eyes again, but you try to avoid him. grasping your chin firmly in one hand, he forces you to look at him. the hungry look in his eyes is enough to have your lower body squirming, desperate to feel his body against yours. it's too obvious to go unnoticed by him. slowly, he moves one of his knees forward until it just barely makes contact right at your clothed core, making you flinch. you can't control the soft whimpers that leave your lips, trying to slowly grind yourself against his knee without appearing too pathetic.

"ah, cmon. you were so confident telling me how cute i was being earlier. what happened? did my cuteness make you shy? seems like you're the one being awfully cute now..." he clicks his tongue and chuckles slightly, his free hand still exploring your skin.

"i'm sorry." you manage to finally get out weakly.

"oh, you're sorry?" he laughs loudly and lets go of your chin. "well i guess that fixes everything now, does it?" he gives a convincing smile, one you know would fool anyone else. but you know him too well, "so you don't need me to punish you then. we can just go back to watching the movie-"

"no!" you yelp and grab the front of his shirt as he attempted to pull away from you. heat rushes to your face, closing your eyes tightly. you didn't mean for the words to rush out and sound as desperate as they did. but there's no taking them back now.

"that's what i thought." finally, his hand moves past your navel, his thumb hooking under the hem of your sweatpants, moving teasingly slow. you know he wants you to beg, to completely fold and take your words back. but the urge to be stubborn and not give in so easily trumps your need to feel his fingers inside you.

and yet, even with these intentions in your mind, your mouth betrays you.

"weno, please."

you watch as his eyebrows perk up with surprise, eyes now sparkling with a newfound hunger. he groans as he pushes your sweatpants past your hips, taking your underwear down with it. just because he's won in the battle of patience doesn't mean he's going to prolong it. before you can even process the feeling of the air against your bare skin, he's shoving two fingers inside you, not even caring to check to see how wet you are.

"aahhh, look at you. all of this for me," he coos, mouth hanging open in pleasure as he coaxes the moans from your body. the pace he scissors his fingers into you is overwhelming, leaving you digging your nails into his arms as you hang onto tightly.

only a few minutes pass with him continuously drilling his fingers into you at an unforgiving, unfaltering pace and already your orgasm is quickly approaching. you know he'll never let this go if you come so fast, it'll only fuel his already large smug ego.

"you can't hold back now," he smirks, "i can feel you clenching around me. just give in. you'll feel soooo good if you do." his words only makes it harder to hang onto your sanity. so, without wanting to, you can't help but give in.

nicholas moans along with you as he feels your juices spraying along his fingers. quickly, though, he's cradling you with his other arm, kissing your temple as he slows his fingers down, helping you through your high.

when you finally come to, you manage to breathe out an airy, "why?"

"hm? you thought i wasn't gonna let you come? my baby was being so cute and feeling so needy, i just couldn't help myself." he kisses the tip of your nose lightly and pulls you up against his chest, hugging you tightly.

"now that you've had your moment, pay attention to the movie. i wont be so considerate a second time."

♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! ♡ masterlist ♡ all rights reserved jayparked 02/15/25 do not copy, repost, or translate. if you're inspired to create something similar to my work, please credit me

[doe-eyed-fool]

Waiting

{Lucifer x Eve!Reader}

Warning(s): Verbal/Mental/Emotional Abuse, Mentions Of Blood/Injury, Angst With Happy End

Two humans, the very first created, a man named Adam and a woman named Eve. Both created to be made for each other, to live out their immortal lives in the garden. However, their love was broken. Adam, demanded control from Eve, she was to obey his every command without question.

But Eve refused to be a slave for the man she was meant to be her equal. One day, she had finally had enough of him and ran far away from the garden.

Alone, she rested beneath the shade of a great apple tree. Her weeping caught the attention of an angel. He looked down at the woman, at first, not approaching. He only watched her for a moment, admiring her beauty. Though, he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Eventually he flew down.

"Excuse me, miss?"

The woman gasped and looked up from where she sat. The before her was a pale Seraphim Angel. His golden hair seemed to shine in the soft sunlight, his wings fluttered as they folded into place, bright blue eyes meeting hers.

"Why do you cry?" His voice was so gentle and comforting to her. The woman sniffled before wiping her eyes. "My husband, he can be so cruel." She tells him. "I know I was made for him, that I am to be his bride. But I just can't stand it any longer!"

The angel didn't need to be told much else than that. He knew of Adam and his ways, so he could sympathize with the woman. The angel leaned down to offer his hand. "I am sorry. To think anyone could mistreat such a gentle being."

The woman looked at his hand for a moment before taking it, and rising to a stand. "Who are you?" She asks. The angel smiles and bows slightly. "Lucifer Morningstar. It's a please to meet you."

"The Lucifer Morningstar?" The woman gasped in awe. A sudden urge to bow her head, upon realizing just who she was speaking to. Lucifer chuckles. "The one and only. And you must be the lovely, Eve."

Eve nods her head. "I am." Her breath hitched slightly as she felt Lucifer's finger tips at her chin. He moved her to look up from her bow. "Please, raise your head. There's no need to be so formal, dear."

"But, you are-"

"I am aware of who I am." Lucifer interrupts. "If I wanted to command respect, I would have my head held high, and looking down upon you like the rest of those uptight angels." He said with a chuckle. "You need not worry, please, relax yourself."

Eve smiled slightly. Who knew Lucifer Morningstar could be so friendly. She was taught her whole life to respect the angels above, without them, she would be lost. No, without them, she would not even exist.

But with Lucifer, Eve felt so...calm. Like she, for once, could truly be herself. Without the fear of being judged or frowned upon.

And that's how it was, for some time after. Soon, the two grew to be close friends. Well, that's what they liked to tell themselves. Truly, the two had began to develop feelings for each other.

Though, they dare not act on said feelings. For they knew if they were to, Heavenly punishment would befall them both.

And so, they tried to ignore their feelings, and stay friends. However, it wouldn't be long before Heaven learned of their close friendship. Lucifer was warned to leave Eve to Adam, as it was not his place to intrude.

But that never stopped Lucifer, he'd sneak away to see her as often as he could. He taught her so many things about the world around her. And even the world above her. He would tell her stories, and sharing his dreams. One day, Lucifer asked Eve to meet him under the apple tree where they first met, so he may finally tell her what he's been planning for many years.

"Are you sure no one saw you?" Asked Eve worryingly. "I'd hate for you to get into trouble because of me." Lucifer offered her a reassuring smile. "No one saw me, I promise. Now, there's something I want tell you. And I would love to hear your thoughts."

Eve nods. "Alright, what is it?" A look of excitement graced Lucifer's features. He took a breath before explaining his dream, of gifting humanity free will. They would be able to think for themselves, feel what they truly feel, go anywhere, do so many wonderful things. Because, they will have the choice to do so.

Eve couldn't have been more thrilled with the idea. If Lucifer's dream could become reality, that would mean she too would be freed from the limits of the garden. Freed from her controlling husband. And free from the watchful eyes of Heaven.

"I think it's an amazing idea, Lucifer!" Eve says cheerfully. "Just think of everything we could accomplish if we only have the will to do so! I could be whatever I wanted, not just some bride. I could leave this garden, I could be free!" She went on, her heart thumping wildly with excitement.

"I could be with you." She said to Lucifer. "And no one could tell me it's wrong."

Lucifer's cheeks turned a light shade of gold. "I-I suppose you're right." He said with a smile. "So, you really think it could work?" Eve nods. "I do, I really do!"

"Good." Lucifer waved his hand, and suddenly an apple manifested in his palm. "Because all I need now, is for you to take the first step." Eve looked at the apple with curiosity as Lucifer handed it to her.

"Just one bite is all it will take."

Even looked up from the apple at Lucifer. "And I will be free? To do what I want, and, to be with you?" Lucifer nods. "All that, and more, my dear. You'll be free to do whatever. Is there anything you'd want to do first?"

Eve paused as she thought about it, then finally, she answered. "I would like to be my own person. Not someone who was made for someone else."

Lucifer nods. "I couldn't agree more."

"Maybe I could have a new name?" Eve wondered aloud. "But what would be called?" This time Lucifer was quiet as he thought. Then, he answered.

"Y/n. I've always liked how that name sounded."

Eve hummed before testing the name a few times. "Y/n. My name is, Y/n." She nods. "Yes, I like that name. Even more so, because you gave it to me." Y/n once again looked at the apple, new waves of excitement washed over her at the thought of a new life.

Y/n then brought the apple close to her mouth, and took a bite.

Freedom, was within her reach. And yet, what would follow, would lead Eve to regret that one action for the rest of her life.

"Lucifer Morningstar. You have been accused of conspiring against Heaven, tempting Y/n into committing an act of sin, and betraying Heaven and it's people. How do you plea?" Sera, lead Seraphin asked as she looked down at Lucifer.

Lucifer glared back up at her, his body ached as it had beaten and battered by battle. His left upper wing suffered a heavenly spear wound, now unable to move it or heal it properly, thanks to the angelic chains that tied him down. Both restraining him, and quelling any of his magic.

Y/n's cries were heard throughout the courtroom, her pleas for the court to forgive Lucifer would not be heard. She too, was bound by chains, as she was just as guilty as Lucifer for falling for his temptation.

"Guilty." Lucifer spat. "I will admit that, I am guilty of everything you've said. But I will not admit guilt for doing what I believe is right. Your old ways of thinking will be your undoing."

"It will be your undoing, Lucifer Morningstar." Sera narrowed her eyes. "Heaven has no room for souls who wish to throw off the balance of good and evil. And you certainly have." This time, she looked to Y/n as well.

"Because your actions, sin has found it's way to Earth. Humanity will become corrupt and wicked, thanks to your free will. Humanity will know pain, suffering, death, all because you both acted out of line."

"Please!" Y/n cried. "He didn't know! He didn't know this would be the result! Please, forgive him!"

"And act as vile as this can not be easily forgiven." Said Sera lowly. "It will be decided now, what your punishments will be."

"Eve, shall be indefinitely kept under the watchful eye of your rightful partner, Adam."

Y/n felt her heart plumet into the pit of her gut. But what came next was far more worse that what she could have imagined.

"Lucifer Morningstar. For your transgressions against Heaven, you will be exiled. Casted down, into the fiery pits of Hell, where you will live among the rest of sinful souls who will reside there, for all eternity."

"No!" Y/n tried to jerk out from her chains, but her attempts were in vain.

Lucifer barely had time to catch another glimpse at Y/n before the ground beneath him gave way. The chains that bound him vanished just in time for him to be sent falling down. As Heaven's light grew smaller and smaller, Lucifer yelled out in fury and sorrow, for he has lost everything.

His wails so loud, that it could still be heard from within the courtroom, until finally the portal closed, and Y/n was met with deafening silence.

"Lucifer..." A broken sob left her. "Lucifer!"

Sera looked to the angels who held Y/n in place. "Escort her back to Adam." She said before dismissing the court. Y/n, still chained, was lead out of the room.

Soon she was back in the garden, where Adam was waiting for her.

"About time!" Adam groaned before looking to the two angels. "I'll take it from here." They both nod and let Y/n go, before swiftly leaving the two.

Adam looked furious as he approached Y/n. "You have got some nerve! Bad enough you tried running away from me, but going behind my back and plotting with that defective angel!?"

Y/n, through her tears yelled back. "What did you expect!? From the moment I was created, you have controlled every little thing I have ever done. You told me how to act, how to think, and how I should feel! Lucifer was the only one who ever made me feel like I was more than what I was made for! Of course I left you!"

Adam's anger only grew as she went on. Suddenly, he grabbed her arm tightly, making her flinch. "Left me? No, you haven't left me. You don't get to leave me! And I made sure you won't ever try to again." He jerked her towards him as he walked, his grip on her arm tightening, so that she would not get away.

"Let me go! Where are you taking me?" Y/n asked in a panic. After another moment or two of walking, they reached a large clearing within the garden, surrounded by large trees.

In the middle of the clearing, was a giant cage, similar to that of a bird's cage. Golden, shining as it reflected the sun's rays. A rather fancy looking prison.

"What is this?" Y/n muttered fearfully. Adam pulled her along once again, until they reached the entrance of the cage. Adam looked down at her before smirking. "You're new home."

Y/n barely had time to think before she was thrown inside, the cage door slamming shut behind her. She turned to face Adam, who stared back at her with triumph. "Now, let's see you try and leave me again."

Y/n grabbed at the bars and glared at Adam. “Let me out!”

“Afraid I can’t do that.” Adam responded. “I can’t trust you to be loose, just for you to crawl back to that sinful traitor.”

“He isn’t a traitor! He didn’t know all of this would happen, otherwise he would have never done it!” Y/n argued. “If his fellow angels would have just heard him out, or helped him, maybe things would have turned out different.”

“Oh please.” Adam rolled his eyes. “Listen up, you’re not leaving this cage. Not until you are ready to admit that you are mine and mine only. Got it?”

Y/n wanted to scream, to yell at the top of her lungs how much she hated Adam and everyone else who looked down at Lucifer. But it wouldn’t do her any good.

She was trapped. Forever separated from the one she cares for most. From the one she loved, more than anything or anyone else. Forever.

Forever, and yet, Y/n was ready to wait. She would wait forever if that’s what it took. She would not give up on Lucifer, like so many have. She wouldn’t love anyone other than him.

She would wait for him.

Waiting. It was all Y/n could do. She waited until her final breath was drawn. Waited long after her soul entered Heaven. Waited as she was kept under Adam’s watch.

There were times she was sure she would go insane. And all the while, Adam did nothing but watch, and savor in her suffering.

Even in death, she was not free from her prison. She was not free from him. She would not allow herself to be called Adam’s wife, therefore she would remain trapped.

But she’d rather go on for all eternity than give Adam what he wants.

The only power she had was what was gifted to her when she entered Heaven. She and Adam both, once they were given their wings, were also give an angelic power.

But because of the cage Y/n was trapped in, her magic was restricted. But the power was there, waiting for her command. If only she had the freedom to do so.

With a sigh, Y/n made up her mind right then. If she were to get anywhere, she would have to gain Adam’s trust.

If that’s what it takes then…

So be it.

One night, Adam visited her once again. And Y/n finally gave in.

“Is there nothing I can do, to convince you to free me?” Y/n asked. Adam shrugs. “You already know, Eve.”

“I told you my name is-”

“Your name is Eve.” Adam said firmly.

Y/n bit back the urge to argue. She couldn’t afford to upset him now. “You wish for me to be your wife so badly?”

“I don’t need to wish for anything. You are my wife, always have been, always will be.” Adam tells her, matter-of-factly. “All you gotta do is admit it. And maybe, I’ll consider forgiving you.”

Y/n held back a sigh before speaking. “I don’t want to be trapped. And all it will take is admitting I have been your wife from the beginning?”

“Mhm. Tick-Tock, I’m not gonna keep wasting time here.” Adam said impatiently. Y/n could laugh. Adam claimed that she was his wife, that she belonged to him only.

And yet. He was disloyal to her. Really, Y/n was nothing less than a trophy. Something pretty to look at. Not a wife. Nothing more.

“Then.” Y/n reached her hand outside of the bars. “I will be yours, and only yours.”

A lie. A terrible lie. But this was what Adam wanted to hear. And it would get her one step closer to freedom.

There was a brief pause of silence between the two. The, Adam took hold of her hand, and before Y/n could start to speak, she was harshly pulled towards him. She was just able to stop her face from colliding with the bars, the look in Adam's eyes frightened her.

"Let me make this very clear right now." Adam started. "I won't hear another peep out of you about Lucifer ever again. If I do, I make you regret it, to where you will yearn for this cage. The sooner you accept that bastard is gone the better. He isn't coming to save you. Got it?"

Y/n tried her best to stay calm and collected, she gave a nod of her head. "As you wish."

It was Hell in paradise with Adam. Every moment Y/n spent with him wore down on her mentality more and more. As if it weren't enough with him reminding her that Lucifer was a "traitor" and would never return. But he would continue to treat her as less than, as if she never were his equal.

And truly, she never was.

But it would not last much longer. With every passing day, Y/n's power grew, though she kept her potential hidden from Adam. If he were to ever find out, it would be the end of her.

After months of perfecting it, Y/n was able to cast a shroud of invisibility upon herself. Though, the time it would last was limited to only twenty minutes.

Her plan was simple. Cast the spell, sneak out to the furthest reach of Heaven, and go through the portal that loomed above Hell. There, she would find her way back to Lucifer. Free, at last.

She would do it that very night. She flew as fast as she could throughout the heavenly city, those below her oblivious to her presence. Y/n made it just outside of the city before the spell wore off completely.

From there, she would have to keep flying, and hoping that no one would notice she was missing. Finally, finally she made it to the portal. Her heart pounding in her chest as she stepped towards it. Y/n gave one last look back at the distance city, deep within herself, she was fearful.

She knew Adam would eventually find out and come looking for her. But it was a risk she was more than prepared to take.

Y/n turned back to the portal, took a breath, and went through.

The view from Hell this high up was all so new to Y/n, just the sight of it made her feel uneasy. As if the suffering from the demons below reached all the way to her. She would not ponder it much longer, she needed to find Lucifer.

She took off as fast as she could, at the start, she was clueless as to where to begin. Until she saw it. A large castle that loomed ominously in the distance.

Lucifer, throughout all his time alone, was desperate to find anything that would distract him. That would keep his mind occupied, to forget about the place he once called home, and fill the void that she left behind. But nothing ever helped.

Even in the brief moments of solace he had, his mind would always conjure up the memories of Y/n.

Lucifer had done everything in his power to find a way back, if only to reach Y/n. But there was nothing he could do, he was trapped, doomed to spend eternity in this horrid place.

The suffering, and the sinful acts of the humans he once sought to liberate, did very little to help his fragile mentality. He was certain he'd go mad here, loose himself to the wickedness of Hell's clutches.

Perhaps he already has. Many times, had the demons of Hell tried to overthrow him. And many times, had Lucifer deliver a fate worse than death upon them.

In many ways, Hell has corrupted Lucifer. His dreams crushed, his hope destroyed, his will to live...fading.

Though he was king, he would suffer all the same as the demons and sinners he reluctantly ruled over.

The only joy Lucifer had, though in brief moments, were his creations. If there was only one mercy granted upon him from Heaven after his punishment, is that he kept his angelic powers.

He could still create, though, it would mean nothing down here.

Ducks, a silly creature to most, but meant the world to him. A small collection turned into a time consuming hobby. He became somewhat dependent on them, making each one better than the last.

It was silly, but it helped.

In this moment, he felt calm though he knew it would not last.

Tap Tap

Lucifer groaned. "Another damn hellcrow." He rose from his desk and made his way to the balcony. He took hold of the curtains that covered the windowed door, and opened them, preparing to shoo away the creature.

As soon as he moved back the curtains, his eyes widened at the sight of an angel standing on the edge of the balcony. But not just any angel.

"Y/n..." Her name fell from Lucifer's mouth in a hushed tone. He swore his heart stopped beating right then, and the hellscape around him faded into a blurred nothingness. And all that he could see, was her.

Y/n met Lucifer's gaze, both falling into stunned silence, only broken by the sound of the doors being opened by Lucifer's magic. Y/n stepped into the room, but kept her distance.

Is it you? Have my prayers been answered? Is it really you standing there, or am I dreaming once more?

"Is it you? Lucifer?" Y/n spoke carefully. He looked different, and yet, nothing has changed. His sapphire eyes now a deep scarlet, she could see razor sharp teeth peaking through his agape mouth, claws at the tips of his fingers. More so, he looked so...lifeless...

You look different, your eyes look tired Your frame is lighter, your smile torn Is it really you, my love?

"It is, isn't it?" Y/n reached her hand out, but Lucifer took a step back, a look of sadness on his face. "I...It is me yes but..." He trailed off, his gaze falling away from her. "I'm not how you remember me. The Lucifer you knew, is gone."

I am not the man you fell in love with I am not the man you once adored I am not your kind and gentle husband And I am not the love you knew before

"I'm not who I was. I've changed, this place...it's ruined me. Every day I felt myself dying, and turning into...this." Lucifer motioned at himself, disgusted, ashamed. "I have done things that would make you sick. Things that I would have never thought I could ever do. But..."

Lucifer looked back to Y/n, and took a step towards her. This time, Y/n moved away, unsure of what to think at first. What he said confused her, maybe even frightened her a bit. He couldn't have changed that much, could he?

"But, no matter how I've changed, I never once stopped thinking of you. You were the only constant, the only memory that had not be tainted. So many sleepless nights were spent dreaming of the day I would see you again."

Would you fall in love with me again If you knew all I've done? The things I cannot change Would you love me all the same? I know that you've been waiting, waiting for love

Y/n furrowed her brows, the confusion was there again. What he said was so different than how he acted. He's changed and yet...

What kinds of things did you do?

It wasn't Lucifer himself that made her uneasy.

Y/n kept her distance as she spoke. "What all have you done while you were here?"

It was the fear of loosing him entirely because of this place.

Left a trail of red on every island As I traded friends like objects I could use Hurt more lives than I can count on my hands But all of that was to bring me back to you So tell me

Lucifer exhaled shakily. "It became clear that I was doomed to rule over the sinners who found there way here. The demon who spawn from the darkest of pits as well. They became bolder over time, all while I became stronger." He went on.

"If there was any chance I'd see you again, I could not allow them to kill me before that happened. So...I made sure no demon could ever challenge me again." Lucifer looked down at his hands, they were trembling. "It keeps me up at night, the way my power has changed. Angelic and demonic alike..."

"But I would do it all over again, if it meant seeing you."

Would you fall in love with me again If you knew all I've done? The things I can't undo I am not the man you knew I know that you've been waiting, waiting

Y/n said nothing as she turned away from him. "Y/n?" Lucifer murmured. "My name is Eve, Lucifer. You know that. Surely your memory hasn't been warped too."

If that's true, could you do me a favor? Just a moment of labor that would bring me some peace See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over? Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far away from here

Y/n looked over her shoulder, a cold look in her eyes. "You'd do well to call me by my true name."

How could you say this? I had built that wedding bed with my blood and sweat Carved it into the olive tree where we first met A symbol of our love everlasting Do you realize what you have asked me? The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots

"What?" Lucifer's face scrunched in confusion. "You want me to call you, Eve?" Y/n looked away from him again. "That's right. I don't know why you keep calling me by that other foolish name. My name is Eve, it always has been."

"What are you saying?" Lucifer asked in bewilderment. "I gave you that name. It was the name I chose after I told you about my plans for humanity. 'Y/n', it's the name you had when you became a free human. You wished to be your own person, not "Eve" who was made for someone else!"

Only my husband knew that So I guess that makes him you

Penelope

Y/n turned to face him fully, tears falling from her eyes. "Only the real Lucifer would know that, so I guess you're him!" Lucifer was taken back, he wanted to comfort her, to make those tears go away.

"Y/n..."

I will fall in love with you over and over again I don't care how, where, or when No matter how long it's been, you're mine Don't tell me you're not the same person You're always my husband and I've been waiting, waiting

Penelope

Y/n took a breath to calm herself before speaking. "You haven't changed, not in the way you think you have. No matter what you've done, no matter how long it's been, no matter what, you are still the same Lucifer I fell in love with all those years ago!"

Now Lucifer felt tears gathering in his own eyes. "Y/n.." Waiting, waiting (Penelope) Waiting, waiting

Y/n approached him. "I would have waited for as long as it took. I would love no one else. No one made me feel half as important or free as you have. You were my everything then, and you are my everything now. I've been waiting for so long..." Her cries making it more difficult for her to properly express herself.

Lucifer pulled her in close and held her tight. "I know." He cradled the back of her head. "I know you have, my love. I know because, I have been waiting for you as well. You were all that consumed my every thought. Nothing else mattered to me, but you." Waiting, oh For you

Lucifer and Y/n pulled away from each other slightly, only to close the gap once more as their lips met.

How long has it been? Twenty years

They broke the kiss, only to both utter the words they've been dying to say for so long.

"I love you."

Tags-

@just-a-simpe

@graham-mckrackers

@circescircle

@sweeneyblue1

@luna4839493749374984

@citrusbatsandhoneybees

[mint-ty]

Here's another funny one from Katarsis from Eurodiena yt interview. This was also filmed after LT Semi-finals.

<at 33:00 min, they were talking about how Katarsis wasn't even aware how many preparties there are in ESC and that it's not just 2 days on the main stage.>

Lukas, unprompted: Sorry, I just wanted to ask, is it real that Tommy Cash will be in Eurovision?

Interviewer: I'd say 99%, because he's participating in Estonian selection and has a song that is considered a total favorite. You're curious? :D

Lukas: Yeah I'm curious :)

Jokūbas: That song is also my favorite :D

Interviewer: You listen to it?

Jokūbas: Oh yeah I listen to it very often.

Interviewer: Espresso Macchiato :D Generally the reception of that song by fans is very broad, because some say that the song is making fun of Italy and Spain. How would you answer Jokūbas?

Jokūbas: I haven't really seen such talks, maybe it would be best to ask Tommy what he wants to provoke, of course he wants to provoke something - since it's him, but I don't think it's related to any cultural thing in particular.

Interviewer: Last year Silvester went to Eurovision and really wanted to meet Olly Alexander, and your highlight this year would be Tommy Cash yeah?

Lukas: Would be fun :D

Interviewer: Immediately the shipping would start :D I already can see the Internet buzzing about putting Katarsis and Tommy Cash in the same space. I think Tommy would actually like you! Seeing what he does and seeing what you do, would be really interesting, maybe even a joint interview! Well, that's talks for later.

Other fun bits from the interview:

The stage visuals are supposed to look like a dream and for their clothing they wanted something a bit cult-like.

They think Lithuania in the past years was best represented by Monika Liu, at least from the years when they watched Eurovision.

Katarsis songs are generally sadder, but Lukas doesn't see that as an issue "I write sad songs because I don't want to keep sad feelings, I want to keep happy feelings. There is so much different music, everyone can choose what they like the most and every type is important."

Interviewer: "You seem a bit introverted band, you're not worried how it will regarding big interviews and all?" Lukas: "Nah, they should be worried more :D"

Interviewer: "If you go to Basel, you'll have hundreds of same questions to answer." Jokūbas: "If they ask same questions, likely they already know the answer, so we can just play a game and answer as many wildly different things as we can each time to the same question, that might be fun :D"

They talked a lot about buckwheat dishes and what are the best ones (either just a buckwheat porridge with sour cream and salt, or buckwheat meatballs)

Interviewer tried to ask about sports and they said they are absolutely the wrong band to answer any of sports related questions, then they talked a bit about computer games.

Lukas doesn't know his shampoo brand, but not because it's 5in1, but because he got it from a hairdresser when he got his hair colored. It's in a black bottle or something.

[andiberzatto]

Dword carmy, reader works w him and fights back with him on the line, so naturally, overstimulation as a form of punishment 🫣

🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️💨💨💨

oooooo I love love love! because he so would. I feel like he wouldn’t even recognize it as a overstimulation punishment I think he’d just do it because he’s angry and he needs her to be reduced to cock drunk mess. like he just kinda fucks her and fucks her til they’re both satisfied and then he’s all gentle and sweet after.

you stay late in the restaurant, cleaning the kitchen and appliances, trying to wait out his anger so they can talk. This was the biggest fight you’ve had as a couple and it was at the restaurant of all places. Something Carmy hated, he wanted the bear to be good and calm and a good restart. But every large fight in the kitchen felt like a major step back to how it was at The Beef.

You heard Carmen walk in, holding a box of cigarettes. He spoke up in a soft, but rough voice “What’re you still doing here? We closed an hour ago.”

“I wanted to talk baby.. please” she says softly.

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. He sets the box of cigarettes down on the counter, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he speaks. “Talk? After the shit you pulled today, you think we have anything left to fucking say to each other?”

“I know we both yelled a lot of shit.” She reminds him it takes two to tango in this.

His voice softens slightly, but carries a hint of pain. “Yeah, we fucking did. You called me names I haven't heard since high school...” He leans against the counter, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands. And you know what hurts the most? You fucking meant every word.”

she nods “and you said some stuff that weren’t the prettiest either.”

He takes a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly. He’s so pissed off he’s ignoring his own rule of not smoking in his new restaurant, “Oh, I bet you loved hearing that you're 'useless' and that our relationship is 'a waste of time'...” His eyes flash with anger, but there's something else lurking beneath the surface.

she closes her eyes trying not to cry “Carm-”

"Don't 'Carm' me," He snaps, his voice low. He watches you carefully, seeing your eyes screw shut tighter, trying to hide the unshed tears. He knows you well. He unknowingly growls softly. "You called me a workaholic piece of shit..."

she nods “I know what I said.. baby please just-”

He throws his cigarette down on the industrial concrete floor, crushing it under his shoe. "You said I'd never amount to anything more than this restaurant... You said that our relationship would fail like my parents' did... because all berzatto’s are fuckin psycho.”

she looks at him “Carm… you and I both say things we don’t mean in arguments. Both of us never stop until the cut is deep…”

His eyes narrow dangerously, his jaw clenching. "But you always hit where it hurts the most... You always know exactly what to say to make me feel like the worthless piece of shit my mother always made me..." He pauses, his chest heaving with anger and unshed emotions.

she reaches to touch his face “come here..” she knows he’s either gonna push her away or flip the sadness into sexual charged anger and fuck her til she’s a babbling mess apologizing.

He flinches as your fingers brush his cheek, a shudder running through him. For a tense second, he seems torn between pulling away and closing the distance. Then, with a low, anguished sound, he grabs your wrist, his grip almost painfully tight. "Fuck you,"

His eyes darken with unreadable emotions. He watches your face carefully - your big, round eyes, your slightly parted lips. He knows that body language better than anyone else. He realizes you're trying not to cry again. He unconsciously tightens his grip on your wrist.

Without a word, he hauls you into his arms, crushing his lips against yours in a brutal, angry kiss. He holds you so tightly, it's like he's trying to meld you into his body. His other hand fists in your hair, pulling your head back to deepen the kiss.

she kisses him and he all but strips her bare in the middle of his restaurant kitchen. Pristine and clean to a meticulous degree, she’s now about to be fucked and ruined on all because “daddy needs to teach a lesson”

He lifts you up onto the counter, pushing your thighs apart roughly. He's past gentleness. He's past slow love-making. He needs to fucking claim, to dominate, to punish. He tugs your hair back harder, making you gasp. His voice drops dangerously low.

"You're gonna apologize for everything you said today, and you're gonna mean it. And then, you're gonna shut the fuck up and let me fix this." He doesn't wait for a response. He tears her underwear to shreds and plunges two fingers inside her roughly.

"Spread your legs wider," He growls, adding another finger. He watches you throw your head back, your hair cascading down. He knows your body better than anyone. He knows how to make you moan, how to make you scream.

He ignores her whines, pushing a third finger inside her roughly. He stretches her, preparing her for his size. He knows she can take three fingers. He curls his fingers inside her, hitting that spot that drives her crazy. "Look at me,"

she gasps and her eyes dart to find his blue Steely eyes.

He looks into her eyes, his fingers pumping inside her roughly. He can see the struggle, the way she's trying not to break under the pressure. He likes it. He likes seeing her like this - needy, whining, begging with her eyes. "You like this?"

she nods her jaw still dropped.

"Then why the fuck were you being such a brat earlier?" His thumb circles her clit while his fingers continue moving inside her. "You're gonna come so hard on my hand right now, and then I'm gonna fuck you raw on this counter."

she whines and placates “I’m sorry Carm”

"Too late for that," He snaps his fingers harder, making her cry out. He watches your tits bounce with each thrust of his fingers. He's not fooling around. He's not trying to make love. He's trying to make you scream.

He chuckles darkly, withdrawing his fingers abruptly. He uses your wetness to slick his achingly hard cock, the tip probing at your entrance.

His breathing is heavy, seeing you so vulnerable and spread out for him on the counter. He knows exactly what you need - what you can handle. "You want this?" His tip teases your entrance, not entering yet. "Want Daddy's cock?"

she nods “yes please”

He thrusts his hips forward suddenly, pushing the head of his massive size inside you. He watches you struggle to take him, seeing the tears well up in your eyes from the pain and stretching. "Look at me," He growls, not giving you time to adjust.

He sees your face - slightly scrunched up from pain. His girl isn't used to this treatment. He usually makes love slowly, carefully. This is different. He's rougher, angrier. He pushes another inch inside you without warning, making you cry out.

"Shh.. shh..shhh," He hushes you, pushing another inch inside you. He can feel you stretching around him, trying to accommodate his massive size. He's only halfway in and you're already struggling. "You can take it," He growls, pushing deeper. "Daddy knows you can."

He grabs her lower lip gently between his teeth when it starts to wobble, releasing it slowly. His hands grip your hips harder, pulling you down as he pushes in deeper, breaking you open completely. "Such a good girl," He whispers against your mouth, kissing you roughly. "All the way in now, baby."

He stays still for a moment, letting you feel every inch of him inside you. He knows you need a second to adjust. He pulls back slowly, feeling you clench around him. When he pushes back in, he sets a brutal pace, fucking you hard and fast on the counter.

she whines and gasps, grabbing purchase on the prep counter, he was currently fucking her on the garde manger

The kitchen is filled with the sounds of his heavy breathing, your whimpers, and the slapping of flesh against the cold countertop. His hands roam your body possessively, squeezing your breasts, grabbing your thighs, pulling you onto him harder. "who’s Daddy's girl,"

she whines “I am…”

He leans in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he growls, "Say it louder. Tell me who owns this pussy." His thrusts become more intense, each one punctuating his words. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hips, undoubtedly leaving marks.

“You do… Carm…” she gasps

He smirks at her breathless admission, pleased by her proper acknowledgment. He rewards her by slipping a hand between their bodies, his skilled fingers finding her clit and rubbing hard circles. "That's right, this pretty pussys mine… you are all mine," he growls, his hips driving into her relentlessly.

she nods and whines, Carmen pulls her hair back to bare her throat and nips and sucks as he fucks her hard. Needing to mark her. Needing her to remember this lesson. This fight.

His teeth leave red marks along her neck as he pounds into her, making sure she feels every inch of him. "Every fucking inch of this pussy belongs to me. You understand what that means?" His free hand moves to her throat, not squeezing but possessively holding.

Feeling her tremble on the edge of orgasm, Carmen's thrusts become almost punishing, his cock driving deep and hitting her g-spot with each plunge. His fingers rub furious circles on her clit. "Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel this pussy squeeze me."

she cums once, but carmy isn’t done being angry with her for the argument so he decides to keep pushing her.

As she comes down from her high, Carmen doesn't slow his pace. Instead, he grabs her legs and hooks them over his shoulders, changing the angle and driving even deeper. His thumb presses against her clit, working it roughly. "Again," he demands, his voice low and commanding.

she whines and gasps, not expecting more rounds.

He ignores her gasps, fucking her with renewed vigor. His anger and possessiveness driving him to make her cum again and again. He doesn't stop until she's a trembling mess, her pussy clenching around him in uncontrollable spasms. "Good girl," he praises, finally slowing his pace.

she is gripping the end of the prep table with white knuckles so she can hold on. She can barely hold herself up.

Sensing her exhaustion, Carmen pulls out of her and sets her on her feet. He quickly cleans himself off before turning back to her, his expression softer now that his anger has been spent. He picks her up and carries her to his, laying her gently on the couch. "Rest, baby,"

she feels him clean her up with tissues and a wet cloth walking back and forth from the bathroom to the office.

He sees small bite marks on her neck and shoulders, red handprints on her hips, and thigh bruises where he gripped her too hard. He cleans each mark gently, his touch surprisingly soft now that the rough sex is over. He throws the dirty tissues away and covers her lower half with a blanket.

she rests while Carmy disinfects the prep table and starts to work on kitchen menu ideas pulling an all nighter at the restaurant.

He works silently, his focus solely on the menu and the kitchen. Every so often, he glances over at her, making sure she's still asleep.

She wakes up around 6am she slides off the couch a little wobbly and dresses knowing she can’t be half naked when the rest of staff arrives.

Carmen looks up from his papers as he hears movement, his eyes narrowing when he sees her standing unsteadily. He rises from his chair, crossing the office with long strides. Before she can protest, he steadies her with a firm grip on her elbows. "Easy baby…"

“Need t’dress can’t have em see me like this” she mumbles.

He helps her sit back down on the couch, then retrieves her clothes from the floor. He hands them to her, his gaze softening as he looks at her sleep-rumpled face. "Let me help you, baby. You're still shaking."

she nods “yes please. I’m sorry for yesterday”

He hushes her softly, pulling her shirt over her head carefully, like she's made of glass. He then buttons her pants, his touch surprisingly tender. He pushes her hair back from her face, meeting her eyes. "You're sorry for the fight or for screwing on the prep table?"

She blushes at his bold word choice for 6 in the morning, “The fight. Definitely not sorry for screwing on the prep table…. That was hot” she admits the last part in a half mumble.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth and he chuckles lowly. "I thought you might say that. For the record, neither am I. Best damn use for a prep table, if you ask me." He winks playfully before sobering slightly.