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zerocoded · 8 days ago

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summary: caleb makes you kung pao chicken and you repay him by milking him dry.

authors note: banner credits to the one and only cutie who draw this! gut wrenching smut to my caleb girlies. like jungkook said, SEVEN DAYS A WEEEK 😩 get in the car babes, we're going to pound town. so sorry for the delay! like i said, idk how to write happy feelings so i struggled with this one a little lol. but i still had a good time! thanks for reading this four-chapter series, you guys have my heart. again, this was supposed to be allll in the last chapter but i figured it would be too much for just one post, so i split them in two.

warnings: HEAVY ANGST • nsfw content, mdni • obsessive!caleb • UNCANNON bc i finished this before caleb release • grinding • astraphobia • downplaying fears as we all do • soft!dom caleb but then hard!dom caleb • teasing • orgasm denial • SO MUCH TEASING • word play • fingering • skyhaven is under a isolation period.

word count: 13.3k (i swear i'm not sane)

the first time you see caleb after the incident┃caleb uses you as a hostage at the farspace fleet┃you punch caleb in the face┃you're here

isolation week blurred together in a strange rhythm, the days blending into each other like half-forgotten dreams. you didn’t keep track of the hours—there was no point. the world outside skyhaven felt distant, unreachable, as if it had been swallowed by the endless hum of magnetic fields holding this floating island in the sky.

caleb made it easier, somehow. his presence was a strange mix of soothing and frustrating, a reminder of the man you used to know and the one he’d become. you hadn’t realized how much you’d come to depend on him until you were confined to this room together.

the first morning felt awkward, to say the least. after inviting him back to the bed, you woke up to find him sprawled out beside you, his bionic arm stretched across the mattress like an unfamiliar guest. he wasn’t touching you—you could see he’d been careful about that—but the warmth of his presence was undeniable.

“morning,” he’d said when he caught you staring, his voice low and teasing. “sleep well?”

you hadn’t, but you didn’t tell him that. instead, you muttered something incoherent and shuffled to the bathroom, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened under his gaze.

that first day passed in cautious steps, a strange dance of proximity and avoidance. caleb filled the silences with stories from the base—how he’d managed a near-disastrous training exercise or how a recruit had accidentally fried half the communication systems. you found yourself laughing more than you expected, his sharp wit and easy charm tugging at memories you thought you’d buried.

the second day was spent with caleb working in the living room and you lounging in his room. turns out that the floor-to-ceiling glass windows weren’t as soundproof as you thought. every time caleb cursed under his breath at whatever he was tinkering with, it carried into the bedroom like a muffled echo, forcing you to stifle laughter more than once. by the fourth time he muttered something about “rookie mistakes” and “damn loose wiring,” you couldn’t help but shout, “you talking to the wiring or yourself?”

his reply was immediate, his voice full of dry humor. “depends. which one’s listening better?”

when the evening of the second isolation day came, a storm rolled in slowly, creeping over skyhaven like a shadow. it began with the faintest rumble of thunder in the distance, barely audible over the soft hum of the dorm. the sky outside the windows darkened, heavy clouds gathering until the first streak of lightning cut through the horizon. you glanced toward the glass, drawn to the way the city lights below flickered like stars against the storm.

caleb called you to the kitchen for dinner, his voice casual but tinged with an edge of exhaustion. “nothing fancy,” he’d said, placing a plate in front of you. “just leftovers. figured you wouldn’t complain.”

you didn’t, especially not when you caught the faint scent of whatever he’d reheated—it smelled good, and by now, you were too hungry to care about the lack of flair. you sat together at the small table, the storm outside casting shifting shadows across the walls. the dim lighting made the space feel smaller, more intimate, and for the first time in days, the silence between you felt easy, comfortable.

“do you remember when we used to sneak into the kitchen at gran’s place?” you asked between bites, the memory coming unbidden but welcome.

caleb snorted, a rare, genuine laugh slipping past his usual guarded demeanor. “you mean when you’d sneak and i’d get dragged into it?”

“oh, please,” you shot back, a grin tugging at your lips. “you were the one who wanted to make those awful peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with way too much jelly.”

“you ate them, didn’t you?” he countered, raising an eyebrow.

“because i was starving!” you laughed, shaking your head. “you could’ve fed me cardboard, and i would’ve said thank you.”

he chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “you were easy to please back then. now look at you, living the high life with reheated kung pao chicken.”

the playful jab earned him a mock glare, but the warmth in his voice made it impossible to be annoyed. the shared memory lingered between you, softening the edges of everything else. for a moment, it felt like you were kids again, stealing moments of joy in the quiet corners of a world that never quite felt safe.

outside, the storm intensified, the thunder growing louder, closer. lightning lit up the room in sharp flashes, followed by the low growl of the sky. you turned your gaze to the windows, the storm demanding attention with its unpredictable rhythm. caleb followed your line of sight, his expression shifting as he watched the storm unfold and your reaction at the same time.

“this one’s going to be loud,” he said, almost to himself. “storms like these always are, especially up here.”

his voice was calm, but the weight of the storm pressed against the walls, creeping into the space between you. as the wind howled and the rain began to streak the glass, the moment of levity faded, replaced by a quiet intensity that you weren’t capable of ignoring.

“guess we’re in for an interesting night,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the first sharp crack of thunder.

“looks like it,” caleb replied, his tone softer now, his gaze flicking to you as the storm continued to rage outside.

for the next minutes, you realized that storms in skyhaven were way different from the storms in linkon city. the way the lightning lit up the entire sky, crackling with a brightness that seemed to ripple through the clouds, was almost beautiful—if it wasn’t so overwhelming. the thunder was deeper here, more resonant, as if the very air carried its weight. every flash and rumble seemed to rattle the walls, making the room feel smaller, like the storm was trying to press its way in.

unfortunately, you were scared of both.

you tried to keep your composure, focusing on your plate and the casual rhythm of caleb’s fork against his. but when a particularly loud clap of thunder roared through the dorm, your hand flinched, nearly knocking over your glass. caleb’s head snapped up at the sound, his gaze flicking to you with an intensity that made your cheeks flush.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice steady, though his brow furrowed slightly.

“fine,” you replied too quickly, your voice thinner than you meant. you placed your hands in your lap, twisting your fingers together to hide the slight tremor. “just… loud, that’s all.”

he didn’t look convinced, his eyes narrowing just a fraction before he set his fork down. “are you still scared of them?” he said, leaning back in his chair. his tone was casual, but there was a softness to it, the kind he used when he was trying not to push too hard.

you nodded, your gaze fixed on the plate in front of you. “still not my thing.”

he watched you for a moment longer, his gaze steady but unreadable, before a particularly sharp crack of thunder split the air. it was closer this time, louder, and it made you flinch despite yourself. your breath hitched, your shoulders tensing as you tried to steady yourself.

“hey,” he murmured, his voice gentler now, the edge gone. “come here.”

you hesitated, your fingers tightening in your lap. “i’m fine,” you started, but the words felt hollow, unconvincing even to yourself.

“you’re not, pipsqueak” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. he reached out then, not quite touching you but close enough that the gesture felt like a tether. “i know you. just… come here.”

you stood slowly, unsure at first, but when you moved closer, he didn’t hesitate. he pulled you gently into his lap, his arms wrapping around you like a shield against the storm.

the movement caught you off guard, but you didn’t resist. the warmth of him was immediate, grounding, his bionic arm cool against your side as he adjusted it carefully.

“better?” he asked softly, his breath brushing against your temple.

you nodded, your cheek pressing against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming the chaos inside you. “a little,” you admitted, your voice muffled but steadying.

another roar of thunder shook the room, and your hands gripped his shirt instinctively. he didn’t flinch or pull away—he just held you tighter, his hand moving in slow, reassuring circles against your back.

“you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “i’ve got you.”

“i look like a child, sorry,” you muttered, your voice barely audible as you kept your face buried against his chest. “i fight wanderers, for god’s sake.”

caleb chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. “you don’t look like a child,” he said, his tone light but carrying that familiar edge of warmth. “you are you, pipsqueak.”

you huffed a quiet laugh, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. “comforting.”

“it’s true,” he added, his voice dropping slightly, almost like he wasn’t sure he should say it. “i remember you always cried when it was storming back then.”

you pulled back just enough to look at him, his words tugging at a long-forgotten memory. “you teased me at first,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. “but then you always slept with me in my room afterward.”

his lips quirked into a faint grin, his eyes softening. “because you’d cling to me like a little barnacle,” he teased gently, though the fondness in his voice was unmistakable.

“you never complained,” you countered, your cheeks warming at the memory.

“never had a reason to,” he said simply, his gaze steady on yours.

the room felt quieter then, the storm outside reduced to a distant rumble as the two of you sat there, his arms stayed around you.

“it’s not so different now, is it?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “just you and me. like it’s always been.”

you didn’t reply, but the way you stayed pressed against him, your hand unconsciously gripping his shirt, was answer enough.

“stupid floating island, why did the daa have to make their base here?” you joked, your voice muffled against his chest. “now i can’t even finish my burnt kung pao.”

“burnt?!” caleb laughed, mock-offended, pulling back just enough to look at you. “you just said you wouldn’t complain. for me, that’s partially overcooked, nothing more.”

you tilted your head, giving him an incredulous look. “partially overcooked? caleb, the chicken was practically charcoal.”

he smirked, his hands still resting lightly on your sides. “it’s called adding texture. i’m innovating.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in your chest easing as his grin widened.

the storm rumbled outside, the occasional flash of lightning casting fleeting patterns across the walls. his hands, still steady on your sides, seemed to hesitate for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of your shirt. it was such a small, unconscious gesture, but it sent a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

you glanced down at his hand, then back up at him, and found his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. there was no teasing in his expression now, no quick retort or sarcastic comment. just him, watching you like you were something fragile and precious, something he couldn’t bring himself to look away from.

“caleb…” you started, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“what?” he asked softly, his tone steady but edged with something deeper.

you shook your head, unsure of what to say, unsure if you should say anything at all. “nothing,” you murmured, though your heartbeat betrayed you, thudding loudly in your ears.

he didn’t press, but his gaze stayed on you, unrelenting. the hand on your side shifted slightly, his fingers curling just enough to ground you, to remind you he was there. “you sure about that?” he asked after a beat, his voice low.

you nodded, but the motion felt half-hearted, like you weren’t entirely sure of anything anymore. the tension between you grew heavier, the air around you thick with something unspoken, and you wondered if he could feel it too—the way the space between you seemed to shrink without either of you moving.

“you’re trembling,” he said softly, his brow furrowing as his other hand came up, hesitating before resting lightly against your arm.

“it’s the storm,” you replied, though you weren’t sure if that was entirely true.

“is it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper now, his thumb brushing a slow, deliberate line against your arm.

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. instead, you stayed there, caught between the steady warmth of his hands and the wild rhythm of your own heart, waiting to see what would happen next.

another thunder came, the loudest yet, and you trembled in his hold. his arms tightened instinctively around you, grounding you as your breath hitched.

"fuck, this sucks," you muttered, frustration and embarrassment creeping into your voice. "i’m sorry, i think i should—"

"do you want to watch something on the tv?" he interrupted, his tone casual but deliberate, like he was trying to steer your focus elsewhere.

you looked at him, confused. "i think i shouldn’t—you don’t have to worry about me."

he tilted his head slightly, his expression soft but unyielding. "i used to distract you from the storms with silly cartoons when you were younger," he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "i think it will help."

"we’re not kids anymore—" you started, but he didn’t let you finish. in one swift motion, he stood, lifting you effortlessly into his arms, bridal style. "what the hell!" you gasped, your hands instinctively clutching at his neck to steady yourself.

"i can walk, you know," you said, glaring up at him, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed the annoyance in your voice.

"i know," he replied, his voice warm but firm. "but i prefer you don’t when i’m around."

you opened your mouth to argue but stopped when you caught the way he looked at you—steady, unwavering, his grip on you secure but gentle. as he crossed the living room and entered his bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel the tension in your chest begin to ease.

as he set you down carefully on the edge of his bed, his hands lingered for a moment, his touch light yet grounding. his fingers brushed your arms briefly as he pulled back, and the faint contact left a trail of warmth on your skin.

"you good here?" he asked softly, his voice low, his gaze searching yours as if to make sure you were really okay.

you nodded, but the truth was, the weight of the storm still pressed on you.

"yeah," you murmured, your voice quieter than you intended. but even as you said it, your hands fidgeted in your lap, betraying the unease that still lingered.

caleb didn’t move far, instead crouching in front of you, his arms resting on his knees as he leveled his gaze with yours. "you don’t have to pretend, you know," he said, his tone soft but firm. "if it’s still too much, just tell me."

his sincerity made your chest tighten, the way his eyes softened as he spoke, the faint crease of worry between his brows. the storm outside growled again, a low rumble that rattled the glass, and before you could stop yourself, you moved.

your body acted on instinct, seeking out the comfort that had been so immediate and steady. you slid forward, closing the space between you as you climbed into his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“hey,” he murmured, startled for only a moment before his hands came up to steady you, one resting firmly on your back while the other settled on your hip. “you okay?”

“sorry,” you whispered, your face pressed against the curve of his neck. “i just… it’s better like this.”

he exhaled softly, the sound more like a sigh of relief than anything else. “don’t apologize, pipsqueak” he said, his voice low and soothing. “the storms you’ll encounter in the future… they shouldn’t exist here.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt his arms tighten slightly around you, holding you closer. the heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of your clothes, and the steady rhythm of his breathing calmed the erratic beat of your heart.

his fingers flexed against your hip, the warmth of his hand seeping through the material. “i’ve got you,” he replied.

he sat on the bed bringing you with him, his back touching the headboard.

the storm outside roared again, but it felt distant now, muffled by the space you shared. you shifted slightly in his lap, and his grip tightened reflexively, a quiet inhale escaping him as you moved.

“sorry,” you murmured, your cheeks warming with the apology.

“you’re trembling,” he noted again, his voice quieter now, rougher at the edges. his hand on your back moved in slow, soothing circles, but there was a tension in him that hadn’t been there before—a subtle stiffness in his posture, the way his fingers lingered just a moment too long.

“i’m just a little shaken,” you replied, though your voice betrayed you, wavering slightly as your chest pressed against his.

“don’t worry too much, princess,” he murmured, his voice dipping low, the words brushing against your ear like a secret. his hand stilled on your back, the pause heavy, loaded with something unspoken. “i like when we’re close like this.”

you didn’t reply at first, your breath catching as his gaze held yours. his eyes searched, questioned, the intensity of his closeness overwhelming—the faint warmth of his breath on your cheek, the steady weight of his hand against your back. it was too much and not enough all at once. you swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as you said, “me too.”

“do you?” his tone was curious, soft, yet laced with something deeper, and you felt a flicker of need pulse through you. his question lingered in the air, fragile and heavy. you didn’t know how to respond, unsure if the truth would feel like breaking something—or like setting it free.

“because i do,” he admitted, his voice unwavering, his honesty unraveling something inside you. “always have.”

the sincerity in his words, the way his eyes held no doubt, no hesitation—it pulled at you. it felt like stepping into something safe and terrifying all at once, his certainty acting as a charm you couldn’t resist.

“i do,” you murmured timidly, your voice so soft it was almost lost to the storm outside. you couldn’t meet his gaze, your eyes dropping to avoid the weight of everything he’d laid bare.

smoothly, caleb's hands tightened on your sides, his touch a quiet plea for your attention. and so, you look at him. your gaze meets his amethystine eyes, and there, you find it—yearning, raw and unguarded, etched into every facet of him.

"would you hate me even more if i said i wanted to kiss you right now?"

his voice was so steady, so effortless, that it left you momentarily stunned. you stayed silent, your heart pounding against the truth you were too afraid to confront, the truth simmering just beneath the surface of your heart.

“i don’t hate you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. they hung in the air between you, fragile and vulnerable. his gaze softened, searching your face for something—permission, maybe, or clarity.

“but you don’t want this,” he said, though his voice wavered, unsure. his grip loosened, like he was already preparing to pull away, to retreat.

you shook your head slightly, barely more than a tremble. “it’s not that…” your voice cracked, and you hated how exposed you felt.

"i’m sorry," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret, eyes staring at both of his hands on your side. his bangs fell over his eyes, giving him an innocent look. caleb had always been effortlessly pretty in your eyes.

you caught yourself staring at his sudden shyness with more awe than apprehension. ever since you’d grown a little taller and started seeing caleb through a different lens—one that wasn’t colored by the “older brother” view you once had—you couldn’t help but admire his beauty. moments like this, when his youthful charm caught you off guard, felt like they pressed you against an invisible wall, leaving you breathless.

because how many times had you wanted to kiss him before? god, you’d had the silliest crush on this man for what felt like forever. and now, knowing he’d been pining for you just the same all along? it felt unreal and unfair at the same time.

"i shouldn’t put you in a position like this… let’s just—let’s watch something." he leaned back slightly, creating space that felt colder, emptier, and pretended to be searching for the controller on his bedside table.

but you saw it—the restraint in his eyes, the way he was holding himself back for your sake. and you couldn’t let that linger. "caleb," you said softly, reaching for his hand before he could fully pull away. "it’s not that… you’re not putting me on the spot." you hesitated, your breath shaky as you forced the words out. "i kind of… want to be on the spot."

were you caving yourself in a bigger mess? you honestly couldn’t tell. but ignoring your childhood feelings right now seemed to be as painful as the possible ache of regret you could face later.

his eyes snapped back to yours, wide, searching for any sign of doubt. "you do?" his voice was quieter now, almost disbelieving.

"i do," you admitted, your cheeks warming under his gaze. "it’s just… this is new, and i’m scared, but that doesn’t mean i don’t want it."

he exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he took in your words. "fuck, i don’t want to scare you, pipsqueak," he said, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

“you could never.”

his lips parted slightly, his jaw tightening as he exhaled through his nose, seeming thoughtful. “you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though there was a hint of strain behind it.

again, caleb seemed so youthful in this light, his features softer, the usual sharpness in his gaze replaced with something gentler. there was an innocence about him now, a vulnerability that clung to the edges of his desperation. it wasn’t just restraint—it was care. as if the fear of scaring you, of pushing you too far, outweighed any longing he might have for your body.

you shook your head, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you leaned closer. “no,” you whispered, the word trembling between you.

your breath caught, and for a moment, the world outside—the storm, the hum of skyhaven, everything—faded into a quiet, dizzying stillness. his touch was grounding, his gaze searching, and yet, all you could think about was the last time you felt this close to him.

a week ago.

it came rushing back, unbidden and vivid, like a memory you’d tried to bury but couldn’t. the moment when he reappeared on your front door in linkon city, alive and impossibly real, standing in the doorway of your tiny apartment as if the months between you hadn’t happened.

your chest tightened as the ache in your heart shifted into something else—something sharper, hungrier. you leaned in without thinking, your hand moving to his jaw, your lips hovering just a breath away from his.

but before you could close the distance, he froze. his hand moved to yours, holding it gently but firmly, his eyes now wide and dark, filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“don’t,” he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath hot against your skin. “don’t do it if you are not ready to forgive me yet, princess.”

his words made your heart stutter, the rawness in his tone cutting through the haze in your mind. his jaw tightened beneath your hand, his grip on your waist trembling slightly, as if the effort to stop himself was taking everything he had.

“tell me you want it first,” he pleaded, his voice rough, almost pained. “please.”

your breath caught, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. he looked at you like the thought of stopping physically hurt him, like holding himself back was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

“caleb…” you started, but your voice wavered, the unspoken pull between you making it hard to find the words.

“say it,” he urged, his forehead resting against yours, his voice a whisper now, almost broken. “if you want me, tell me.”

fuck, caleb was trembling.

“i think,” you whispered, your voice shaking as much as he was. you brought your hand to his jaw again, your fingers brushing against the faint stubble there, grounding both of you in the moment. “i think this will help.”

—with the forgiving part, you wanted to complete.

his eyes searched yours, desperation and longing swirling together in a way that made your chest ache. “don’t say it unless you mean it,” he murmured, his voice rough, his forehead pressing against yours harder now, like he needed the contact to steady himself.

you swallowed hard, your thumb brushing the edge of his jaw as you let out a shaky breath. “i want this,” you said, the words fragile but true. “i want you.”

his breath hitched, his fingers tightening on your waist as if those words had been the only thing holding him back.

“say it again,” he whispered, his lips so close to yours that you could feel the heat of them.

“i want you,” you repeated, your voice steadier now, your grip on him tightening as if to prove it.

that was all it took. the tension between you snapped, and caleb closed the space between you in one fluid motion, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that stole your breath. this wasn’t like the kiss in linkon city, sharp and painful and desperate. this was different—deeper, slower, filled with a need that burned just as fiercely but carried the weight of something more.

his hands moved to your back, pulling you closer, every inch of him pressing against you as if he couldn’t bear the thought of space between you. the storm outside raged on, but in that moment, it felt like the two of you had created your own—just as powerful, just as unstoppable.

his lips moved against yours with a deliberate intensity, each touch igniting something deeper. his hands, strong and steady, slid up your back, grounding you.

your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned softly against your lips, the sound low and desperate. the sheer intensity of it all made your pulse race, and you felt a rush of heat spread through your body as he deepened the kiss, his teeth grazing your lower lip before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

“tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, his voice rough, his breath fanning across your cheek. his forehead rested against yours again, his grip on your waist firm but trembling just slightly, a reminder of how much he was feeling at the moment.

“it’s not,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. “don’t stop.”

he leaned in again, his kisses softer now but no less consuming, his mouth tracing a path down your jaw to the curve of your neck.

his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you into his lap again as if he needed you even closer, needed to feel every part of you against him. his bionic arm settled carefully on your side, his fingers cool against your skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. the contrast between the metal and the heat of his other hand sent a thrill down your spine, grounding you in the moment.

“you’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin, his voice raw and unguarded, the words slipping out like he couldn’t hold them back. “i don’t deserve you.”

“i’ve wanted this—wanted you—so much, princess, you have no idea.”

your chest tightened at his confession, the vulnerability in his tone cutting through the haze of heat and desire. your fingers moved to his face, cradling his jaw as you pulled him back to look at you. his lips were swollen, his breathing uneven, but his eyes—his eyes were full of unshed tears that broke your heart.

"caleb," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of it all. you searched his face, seeing not just the man you cared for but the fragile edges of him he never let anyone else see. "i’m here," you said, the words barely louder than a breath. "it’s okay. i want this."

his hands moved to yours, holding them against his face as if grounding himself in the moment. “i’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered.

“show me, then” you said softly, the words trembling with their own weight. “show me how much you wanted me, caleb.”

as if echoing the tension that crackled in the air between you, a thunderclap roared outside, the sound reverberating through the walls and into your chest.

a trembled exhale escapes you, and in that moment of vulnerability, he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue alongside yours.

his bionic fingers shift against your cheek, you can feel the tension in him—the way he’s holding you so carefully despite the intensity of the moment. it’s as though he’s trying to reconcile the boy he used to be with the man he’s become, and in that kiss, he’s asking you if you can love both.

the kiss is frenzied, a desperate tangle of lips and breaths.

without thinking, your body moves on its own, testing his resolve with a slow, deliberate roll of your hips into his lap. the effect is immediate—his jaw tightens, the sharp edge of restraint etched into his expression. his hands fly to your waist, one strong and warm, the other cold and unyielding, gripping you tightly as if to steady himself.

“princess,” he groans, his voice low and ragged, though his hold betrays how much he doesn’t want you to stop.

ignoring his warning, you roll your hips again, feeling the heat of his reaction through the thin layers between you. a low, guttural sound escapes him, and the sheer rawness of it sends a rush of heat through your body. the sound pulls a whimper from your own lips, and you move with more purpose, your body seeking to draw that noise from him again, needing to unravel him.

it felt like your core had its own heartbeat.

“pipsqueak” he mutters, his grip tightening as if trying to regain control. his head falls forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder. his sweet resolve was being tested and you felt your lips curl into a smile, sweet vengeance sounding fair in your ears.

“pipsqueak,” he muttered, his grip tightening as if he were struggling to regain control. his head dipped forward, his forehead resting against your shoulder. his sweet resolve was fraying at the edges, and you couldn’t help the smile that curled on your lips—sweet vengeance was practically begging to be served.

but just as you were about to push him a little further, his metal hand gripped your behind with enough force to draw a startled squeak from you.

“fuck—” you breathed, the word tumbling out unbidden.

“watch it, baby,” he murmured, his lips trailing up from your neck to your ear, his voice a low, tantalizing growl. “i’ve got years of pent-up tension to take out on you.”

was that a promise? god, why did you wanted it to be so much?

“caleb, please,” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of need and vulnerability. the sound of his name—your plea—seems to undo him. his resolve snaps like a frayed wire. with a growl, his hands shift, pulling you even tighter against him as his lips crash into yours again, no longer holding back the storm that’s been building inside him for so long.

“i know, princess,” caleb mutters, his voice thick with restraint. his erection twitches in the confines of his pants as he watches you, the sight of you slowly grinding into his lap nearly ending him. your eyes, half-lidded and dark with lust, hold him captive, and he swears he could lose himself in that expression alone.

every slow roll of your hips sends a wave of pleasure coursing through both of you, the friction igniting sparks that only leave you wanting more. there’s an incessant throbbing between your legs, a growing need that these teasing movements can’t quite satiate. each brush of your core against him only heightens the ache.

caleb feels it too, because he’s already pulling at the waistband of his pants, his thumb hooking into both layers as he tugs them down, revealing the sharp definition of his defined v-line. the sight alone makes your mouth go dry, heat flooding your veins as your gaze lingers.

“fuck,” you whisper under your breath, unable to stop the word from slipping out.

caleb catches the way your eyes widen, and his lips curve into a slow, wicked smirk. his bionic hand rests on the bed beside him for balance, while his flesh hand gestures toward you. “take it off,” he commands, his tone soft but laced with a quiet authority that makes your pulse quicken.

you freeze, caught off guard by the intensity in his voice, and the way his gaze seems to pin you in place. the handsome smirk that tugs at his lips grows wider as you let out a startled breath, your cheeks burning hot with embarrassment and arousal.

you’d seen his body before, seen the dedication he put into keeping it in peak form. you’d been there when his once-lean chest began to transform, muscles growing larger than any of your own limbs as he transitioned from boy to man.

and you’d dreamed about his touch too—wild, fleeting thoughts that only a hormonal teenage girl could summon on those countless nights when the ache of loneliness crept in.

god, you should probably feel embarrassed for all of it right now.

but caleb didn’t seem to mind. he didn’t seem to care about your wild thoughts swirling around him now or the teenage fixation you’d once had on his quiet care. all that mattered to him was the relief painted across his face—the realization that this wasn’t a one-sided transition, that you were right here with him. aching for him.

biting your lip, you slip off his lap and move to stand, your fingers curling around his waistband as you carefully pull his pants and boxers the rest of the way down. his member springs free, hard and aching, and the sight sends a jolt of heat straight to your core. your thighs press together instinctively as you shiver at how thick and undeniably pretty he looks.

fuck, you weren’t exactly a novice—but being a deep-space hunter didn’t leave much time for fooling around. still, every fantasy you’d ever buried seemed to find its way to the surface, all centered on the boy you could once call your first love.

caleb was intimidating, but in the most deliciously enticing way. you weren’t a teenager anymore, and your desires had grown with you, maturing into something sharper, more urgent. whatever this was between the two of you—it felt like the thing you’d been craving for so long, the missing piece you didn’t even realize you’d been waiting for.

he was thick, but not in an overwhelming way—just enough to leave you aching, his desire for you palpable in every movement. but what truly left your mouth watering was his length, something you’d only ever imagined existed in exaggerated adult videos or ridiculous ads.

was this really the same person who stood up to bullies for you and patiently taught you how to cook when you were 14? fuck, you were absolutely cooked.

in a good way, it seems.

you don’t even realize how long you’ve been staring until caleb clears his throat, the sound breaking through the haze of your thoughts. your gaze snaps up to meet his, only to find his smirk has softened into something more amused, though no less confident.

“while i appreciate the compliment,” he teases, propping himself up on one elbow, “i wasn’t talking about me, princess. i meant you. take it off.”

your nerves were impossible to hide, and his commanding voice only made it worse. for a fleeting moment, you wondered if there was a way to skip past this awkwardness and dive straight into satisfying the ache in your core that you could no longer ignore.

caleb seemed to catch onto your hesitation. he offered you a kind, almost reassuring smile as his flesh hand wrapped gently around your wrist, his touch grounding you in the moment.

suppressing your nerves, you hook your fingers into the waistband of your shorts, sliding them down your legs along with your panties. they pool at your ankles, and you step out of them with a small, shaky breath, standing between his legs as his gaze sweeps over you.

“beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere. the word sends a rush of warmth through you, and the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing in the galaxy—makes your chest tighten.

did he feel this instant pull towards each other too?

sitting up fully, caleb pats his lap, his smirk softening into a smile that’s equal parts playful and inviting. “c’mere,” he says, his voice rich and steady, like a promise.

you could come, my god. but you hope you weren’t so transparent in your lack of confidence in the moment, hoping to have some leverage over the man who seemed to be eating you alive with only his eyes.

caleb seemed so sure of his love and his expression for you, it made you feel small—not in a bad way—, but maybe a bit childish.

you hesitate for only a second before stepping closer, climbing back onto his lap. his hands, warm and steady, settle on your hips as he pulls you against him.

“that’s better,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering against your skin.

you crawl onto caleb’s lap, careful not to sit fully. hovering just above him, your knees press firmly into the mattress on either side of his thighs, effectively trapping him in place. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, but there’s no way in hell you’re going to lower yourself—not yet.

if you did, you’d be pressing your bare pussy against his naked thigh, and he’d feel everything. the thought alone has your cheeks flushing hot, knowing it would expose just how soaked you’ve become from mere kissing.

caleb’s gaze doesn’t waver, his sharp eyes watching you like a predator sizing up his prey. he hums softly, one hand trailing up your side to lift the hem of the shirt you were wearing—his shirt—, pushing it up just enough to reveal your bare chest. his expression softens slightly as he sighs, a low, appreciative sound rumbling from his throat. “pretty,” he murmurs, his voice husky and thick with restraint.

before you can respond, he leans forward, his lips capturing one of your nipples. the sudden contact makes you gasp sharply, your hands instinctively flying to his shoulders for balance. his tongue swirls over the sensitive peak, rolling it in a way that has your back arching toward him.

“caleb—ah!” your cry cuts off as his hand moves between your legs, startling you with its boldness. his bionic fingers rest against your thigh, steadying you, while the fingers of his other hand slip against your slick folds, testing you.

“you’re wet,” he comments, his voice quiet but undeniably teasing as his fingers slide through your arousal. the statement is casual, but the tone of his voice sounded almost painful, as if the realization seemed to fucking pain him.

you swear you heard him mutter a “fuck” while closing his eyes.

“no fuck, sherlock,” you almost whine, the words sharp though your voice lacks any bite. your head falls forward against his neck, the words trembling as his touch continues to unravel you.

but he doesn’t stop. instead, he presses another finger against you, slipping them both at once inside with deliberate ease. the stretch has you gasping, your hips jerking instinctively against his hand as he curls his fingers, finding the spot that makes your breath hitch. “you got this wet just from grinding, pipsqueak?” he murmurs, his tone both teasing and utterly sinful.

“shut up,” you try to protest, but the way his fingers push deeper, curling again, steals the words from your lips. a whimper escapes you instead, and you clutch at his shoulders, your body trembling against him. “fuck”.

regardless of the resistance that was impossible to ignore, your body was so hot that the initial discomfort was quickly replaced but more desire. caleb’s fingers were so damn long, reaching places your personal toys used to reach. the knowledge made your insides clench, something so dirty crossing your mind in the early stages of your love making.

“you’re incredible,” he mutters, his voice low and reverent, his lips brushing against your temple as he works you open with a deliberate precision that leaves you breathless. “don’t be shy, princess. let me hear you.”

a shaky breath stutters out of your mouth as you rock yourself against his hand, chasing the initial fire that have taken upon your core. but it’s not enough—not nearly enough. the ache in your core is unbearable, and every deliberate curl of caleb’s fingers only makes you crave more.

“do you have a condom?” you manage to gasp, your voice trembling with urgency.

his movements still for a fraction of a second before a sly, knowing smirk spreads across his face. “oh my, already?” he drawls, his tone dripping with playful teasing. “princess, i’m just starting with you.”

before you can respond, he moves. with a fluid motion, caleb rolls both of you over, his body pinning you down against the soft expanse of his king-sized bed. the shift leaves you breathless, his weight grounding you in the moment. his hands frame your face, one warm and rough, the other cool and unyielding, a perfect contrast that sends a shiver down your spine.

his lips hover just above yours, his breath mingling with your own as his teasing smirk softens into something darker, more intent. “we’ve got all the time in the universe, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety, sending a thrill through your body. “i’m not rushing this. i’ve waited too damn long to rush things now.”

your heart pounds in your chest as his gaze locks onto yours, his eyes filled with a heady mix of desire and something deeper. “please—” you start, but the words catch in your throat as his lips press against your neck, soft and deliberate, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

“c’mon, princess, don’t be shy. it’s just me, caleb.”

you were grateful his fingers weren’t inside you anymore, or else he’d have felt the dangerous clench your pussy made upon hearing his sentence. how can someone act so innocent with so much craving embedded in his voice?

“i want to savor this,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice muffled but no less commanding. his hand slides down your side, his touch lingering as if committing every curve to memory. “savor you.”

you swallow hard, your body arching into his touch despite your best efforts to remain steady. “but i want—”

“shh,” he interrupts gently, his lips brushing over your collarbone before he leans back to look at you. his smirk returns, though it’s softer now, tinged with affection. “don’t worry, princess. i’ve got you. you’re going to have to be patient, all right? let caleb take his time with you?”

his words are both a promise and a warning, and you can feel the anticipation building as he begins to move inside of your heat again, his touch deliberate, his actions slow and measured, as if determined to explore every inch of you before giving you exactly what you asked for.

“of course, you’re so warm, you had to be…” caleb mutters, his voice low and strained, each word dripping with unfiltered desire. his lips brush against the shell of your ear, and the heat of his breath sends shivers down your spine. “i’ve always imagined how you’d feel—if you’re as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside.”

the deliberate tease in his tone is enough to set your skin aflame, and your breath hitches at his words.

“stop,” you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body reacts to every word, every touch. the intensity of his gaze locks you in place, your heart racing under the weight of his attention.

“what’s wrong, pipsqueak?” he asks, his smirk wicked, his voice like velvet. “am i being too honest for you?” his lips graze your jaw, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “or is it that you like hearing how much i’ve wanted you all this time?”

your cheeks burn as your hands clutch his biceps tighter, your body betraying you by arching closer to his.

“do you like the fact that i’m obsessed with you? that i’d burn the world down for you?” caleb teases, his voice a dark, sinful whisper as his fingers curl inside you, scissoring your pussy with deliberate precision.

your body betrays you completely—your walls clench tightly around him, and a loud, unrestrained moan spills from your lips before you can stop it. your head tilts back, your thighs trembling as he chuckles low in his throat, the sound dripping with satisfaction.

“oh, what’s that?” he drawls, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth as his fingers continue their relentless rhythm. “is this your special spot?”

your cheeks burn, and your hands grasp at his shoulders for support as his words wash over you, leaving you utterly exposed. how come his fingers were so fucking long? to the point where only them were already making you feel lightheaded.

or maybe it was him the one to blame for that.

“shut up,” you manage to gasp, though there’s no real weight behind your protest. every inch of your body is responding to him, and he knows it.

“my princess likes being naughty?” caleb counters, his tone as infuriatingly smug as the grin tugging at his lips. his bionic hand steadies your hip, keeping you from squirming too much, as his flesh fingers work deeper inside you. “you’re the one clenching around me like that, baby.”

“caleb—” your voice breaks as he curls his fingers just right, hitting the spot that makes your back arch and your moans grow louder. his smirk widens, his eyes glinting with mischief and unrelenting focus.

“that’s what i thought,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “don’t fight it, let me hear you, please.” his fingers curl again, dragging another sharp moan from you, and the sound only seems to spur him on. “thank you, princess,” he adds softly, but there’s an edge to his words, a possessiveness that makes your heart race even faster. “every little sound, every little reaction—thank you for gracing me with them.”

“you’re impossible,” you manage to whisper, though your voice trembles, your resolve crumbling under his teasing.

“and you’re irresistible,” he counters, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s equal parts tender and consuming. his words, his touch, his presence—it’s all too much and not enough, and you can feel yourself spiraling under his careful control.

your hands move instinctively, cradling his face, your thumbs brushing gently along his cheekbones as you pull him closer. his eyes search yours, intense and dark, as though waiting for you to shatter whatever thin line of control remains between you.

“just fuck me already,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need, your lips brushing against his as the words spill out. “please, caleb… i’m sensitive.”

the corner of caleb’s mouth lifts into a crooked smirk, though there’s a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—desire tempered by affection, by the weight of how much he feels for you.

“sensitive, huh?” he whispered against your lips, his tone teasing, but his eyes were anything but. they searched yours, dark and heavy with longing, silently asking for permission, for trust.

you nodded, your breath hitching, and he smiled—a soft, crooked smile that made your heart stutter.

he brings his lips close to your pulse point, his warm breath brushing against your neck. you feel the tease in his exhale, deliberate and slow, as if savoring the moment. instinctively, you tilt your head, offering more, knuckles still buried inside of you.

he leans in close, his voice low and dark as he murmurs, “you love being teased like this, don’t you?” a soft whimper escapes your lips, your body responding instinctively to the way his fingers work, each movement sending waves of sensation through you.

your hands press against his shoulders, searching for control, but he holds you firmly in place, his grip on your waist unyielding. his movements are deliberate, precise, barely grazing over sensitive spots, leaving you aching for more.

he doesn’t relent, his rhythm intensifying with every motion, each calculated touch sending your body into spiraling sensations. your breaths hitch as your body tightens, overwhelmed by the building tension, every moment pushing you closer to the edge.

"you look so damn gorgeous here in my arms, princess," caleb murmurs, his voice dripping with heat. "makes me wonder what would happen if i just..." he trails off, bending his fingers inside you until they hit that perfect spot again, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. he focuses on it relentlessly, each movement precise and deliberate, drawing sharp gasps from your lips as your body responds instinctively.

the tension builds, pooling low in your stomach, ready to snap at any moment. you're right there, teetering on the edge of release, when suddenly, he stops. the absence is jarring, leaving your body aching for what it was so close to having.

your eyes fly open, heat rising in your cheeks as shock and frustration flood your senses. "caleb, what the hell?!" you gasp, scandalized, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

he chuckles darkly, the sound low and unapologetic, almost infuriating. "did you really think it would be that easy, my sweet girl?" his tone is teasing, almost rhetorical. "i love to savor what i want. so tell me..." his gaze locks with yours, daring and full of mischief. "will you let me play with you a little longer?"

"this isn’t funny," you pout, the frustration evident in your voice. "i want you."

"i know that, baby," caleb replies, his tone soft but teasing. "and i’ll give it to you. just hang in there for me a little longer, okay? don’t you want to be a good girl? i promise, it’ll feel even better."

before you can respond, his fingers are back inside you, curling with precision as he picks up where he left off. the intensity leaves you gasping, your body arching into his touch as he pins you firmly to the bed, each movement calculated to unravel you.

he drinks in every sound you make, the way your body reacts under his control. the tension builds quickly, spiraling upward as he focuses on that spot that drives you wild, your walls tightening around him. but just as the wave threatens to crash over you, he stops again, pulling away like it’s a game.

"caleb," you whine, your voice trembling as you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "i-i need to come, please."

"i know, baby, i know," he soothes, his fingers moving gently now, almost comforting, though his teasing tone betrays him. "you trust me, don’t you, sweet girl?"

you nod weakly, cheeks wet and burning with embarrassment, but caleb’s gaze softens as he leans closer. "so pretty, my princess," he murmurs, his words wrapping around you like a caress. "i’ve waited so much for this. you deserve the world," he whispers, his lips trailing kisses down your body until his warm breath fans over your chest, teasing the hardened peaks of your nipples.

"she’s going to wait for me, just like i waited for her all this time, right, baby?" his voice sounded almost mocking, a dangerous mix of sarcasm and pure love.

was he talking about your pussy? oh god.

his words make your eyes widen, shock coursing through you as you try to pull away, only for him to hold you firmly in place.

"caleb," your voice trembles, barely above a whisper, and he chuckles softly, finding your helplessness endearing.

"hey, hey, look at me," he says gently, tilting your chin so your eyes meet his. "i’m here, aren’t i? don’t you think it’s fair, pipsqueak?” his lips press harder against your skin with every word, leaving marks that bloom red and tender. “i’ve always held myself back, endured for you." his canines leave two red dots just above your nipples, "day after day, after day, it was suffocating."

he pauses, his lips lingering just above your chest, leaving a bruise that you know will remind you of this moment long after. "at some point, i thought you liked me too," he whispers, pain lacing his words. "but then you left me. and forgot about me."

“caleb!” you try to protest, wanting to tell him he’s wrong, that he doesn’t understand, but the way he touches you—so deliberately, so tenderly, even when he’s pushing you to your limits—leaves you breathless, knees weak, eyes fluttering shut.

how does he know exactly what to do to unravel you like this?

before you can gather your thoughts, his fingers are back inside you, moving with an unrelenting rhythm that has you gasping, every thrust calculated to drive you closer and closer to the edge. just when you think you’re finally about to tip over into bliss, he pulls away again, leaving you trembling and desperate.

and the worst part? he keeps doing it—again and again—pushing you to the brink only to deny you at the last second. tears streak down your cheeks as you thrash beneath him, pleading for release, your body betraying you with every lewd moan and quiver. his fingers work you over, drawing out every sound, every reaction, but he never lets you find that sweet relief.

it doesn’t make sense—how can he know your body this well after such a short time? how can he read every twitch, every sigh, like he’s been doing this for years? there’s something almost reverent in the way he watches you, as if your pleasure is his own, even as he denies you again and again.

he’s wicked—a tormentor wrapped in the guise of a lover.

each time you’re on the verge of release, he withdraws, and fresh tears spill over as you whimper and beg. “please, caleb, let me come,” you plead, voice breaking. “i promise, i’ll listen, i’ll be good—just please, let me come!”

his lips curl into a smug grin, the glint in his eyes almost cruel as he leans in, voice a dark whisper against your ear. “princess wants to give in so soon?” he teases, the condescension in his tone making you burn.

he chuckles, low and sinister, the sound vibrating through you as he promises, “i haven’t even started yet.”

you’re reduced to a tearful mess, your body trembling with desperation as you try to cling to whatever composure you have left. you’d kick him if you could, but caleb holds all the power, the keeper of your release, and you know you have to play his game if you want even the slightest chance of relief today.

"caleb, baby," you plead, voice dripping with desperation. "the love of my life, please, please—i’ll be good now. i won’t push you away anymore. i need you."

did you sound pathetic? a little. but there are moments where you couldn’t find the strength to protect your pride when all that you ever wanted was to untie the knot burning in your core.

his dry chuckle sends a shiver down your spine as his grip tightens on your torso, holding you steady while his fingers continue their relentless rhythm. "i know, baby," he murmurs, his voice softer now. "just give me this moment, please."

and then he’s right back at it, thrusting his fingers deep inside you without mercy, his other hand occasionally teasing your clit. each precise movement against your sensitive spot sends you spiraling, the overwhelming pleasure leaving you breathless.

this time, though, he leans in, his mouth finding your pulse point. the heat of his lips against your damp skin, the way he bites and sucks at you, adds another layer of stimulation that has you reeling. it’s like he’s devouring you, taking every piece of control for himself as he plays with your body, denying you over and over like it’s a game he never tires of.

but when you find your voice again, it’s what finally cracks his composure. "caleb, baby, please—i need your cock, or i swear i’m gonna die."

it’s dramatic, sure, but it works.

he pauses, his breath uneven as he seems to wrestle with himself. his hand slips away from your aching core, giving you a brief moment of reprieve before he lines himself up against your entrance. the thick head of his member presses against you, the sensation so euphoric it has you pressing your forehead against the nearest pillow, trying to ground yourself.

was that what he wanted to hear all along?

biting his lip, he drags himself against your slick heat, collecting your essence along his tip, his gaze locked on the way your body clenches, desperate to be filled.

“you see, princess,” he continues, his voice a mix of tenderness and control, “maybe you’ve learned today, but i will always put you first.” his movements slow, deliberate, as he anchors your wrists against his shoulders, his hands firm but not harsh. “in my own selfish way, i just want the best for you. okay?”

you nod frantically, your body practically begging, even if your mind can’t quite catch up. you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to anymore, only that you want him—need him—to follow through.

but just as you think you’re finally there, everything shifts.

in one swift motion, caleb flips you onto your stomach, his weight pressing you into the bed as he adjusts himself behind you. the next thing you feel is the coarse sensation of something binding your wrists together behind your back, leaving you to hold yourself up by your shoulders.

a rope.

your heart races as you realize what he’s done, his control over you now complete, and all you can do is submit to whatever he has planned next.

it wasn’t just a rope, it was almost like a wire.

"caleb?" your voice wavered as you heard a mechanical whirring behind you. craning your neck, you caught a glimpse of his bionic arm in motion, a thin wire smoothly retracting from his forearm. the precision of it left you breathless—it was designed for this, leaving the prosthetic intact as it unraveled into a makeshift rope.

he wasted no time, expertly wrapping the wire around your wrists, binding them together at the small of your back. the restraint pressed you further into the bed, leaving you utterly at his mercy.

god, this was so hot.

"fuck, do you enjoy this, pipsqueak?" he murmured, his lips trailing soft kisses along your shoulders as he spoke. the heat in your body answered for you, clenching around nothing, leaving you needy and exposed.

"oh my…" his voice dropped, intimate and teasing. "if i knew my dirty princess was this naughty all this time…"

the way his tone dipped lower, filled with a mix of awe and desire, sent shivers down your spine. once again, you felt dangerously adored, like the very center of his universe.

he paused, leaning close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. "you tell me to stop, and i’ll stop. you know that, right, baby?" his question hung in the air, a gentle reminder that despite everything, he was always seeking your consent.

"yes, just—go on with it already," you manage, your voice trembling with anticipation as the tension within you continues to build, lingering in every nerve. even the sound of his voice feels like it could unravel you completely.

and that’s all the warning you get before caleb presses forward, his movements slow and deliberate at first, as though testing your reactions. his hands steady your hips, his touch both firm and grounding, as he finds a rhythm that makes you gasp softly.

the press of his member was initially a relief. you could see yourself opening your mouth in an embarrassing long moan that reverated into the walls of his bedroom. the pitch was drown out by the teasing of his bare member, no protection whatsoever, and the feeling of each vein of his pressing against your insides.

you could feel everything. and the clench of your walls was the proof of that.

caleb moaned too—almost a pornographic grunt—and left you searching for the back of your head with your own eyes as he pushed and pushed and pushed inside of you.

“oh fuck, baby,” caleb fucking whined, too lost in the heat of your pussy. you could picture him throwing his head back and taking a deep breath after setting himself all the way in.

you were left clenching and clenching and clenching until you could feel the pressure in your abdomen starting to hurt you.

“caleb, wait—,” you hissed and pinched your eyebrows, bound hands trying to reach for his hips. at the sound of your plea, he seemed to get back to himself.

“what, sweet girl?”. he pressed his forehead on your shoulder and hissed at the clench your pussy made because of the new angle.

“just—go slow please.” you asked and he nodded.

“can you feel this, princess?”, caleb snaked his hand in your stomach and pressed his long fingers into the bulge he could feel right there. you moaned loudly at his teasing, feeling his member twitch inside of you.

“is that you?”, you whined weakly, already feeling lightheaded.

“yes, my sweet girl, this is me right here,” he pressed the tent in your stomach again, making your breath hitch and your cheeks wet. “see how well you were made for me? my perfect baby”. caleb pressed kissed all along your back until he was no more touching your skin.

he fucks you experimentally slow for all but one minute before he speeds up, and fucks you mean and hard and rough from the get-go. you whine and thrash at first, but then you start feeling the delicious burn of his movements right below your navel and surrender yourself to the pleasure. he buries himself to the hilt, revels in the perfect sponginess of your tight, warm walls until he pulls out, only to insert himself again.

you gasp sharply, the intensity of caleb’s movements overwhelming as he keeps a steady, unrelenting rhythm. the sounds between you fill the room, a harmony of raw emotion and connection. his presence feels all-encompassing as you adjust to him, every motion deliberate, leaving you breathless.

you brace against the makeshift restraint, your body responding instinctively to the sensation, a soft moan escaping your lips. “caleb...” his name falls from you like a prayer, your voice trembling with both need and surrender as the moment consumes you completely.

you don’t even realize you’re reciprocating caleb’s movements with your own, meeting his rhythm as he keeps up a rough, relentless pace. you submit to his every motion so easily, fueling caleb’s confidence, his nerves alight with a mix of dominance and raw desire.

“fuck, princess. look at how good you take it… such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, his voice rough and breathy, laced with his own building tension. you can tell he’s been holding himself back, the strain evident in his tone.

“god, caleb, please—go harder. you’re so…” you pause, your words trailing off as the sensations overwhelm you.

caleb takes your plea to heart, his grip tightening as one hand tangles in your hair. he pulls gently but firmly for leverage, picking up his pace, the sound of every movement echoing through the room like a symphony of chaos and passion.

of course him pulling your hair made you moan even louder, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

caleb’s ego swells as he takes in your pleas, doing exactly as you ask. his hand tightens in your hair, using it as leverage to increase his pace, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room in a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips, his grip on your hair sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body. “fuck, caleb, yes,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need.

caleb chuckles deeply, the sound rich and heady, his own composure slipping as he leans further into the moment. “now i’m sure you were made for me,” he mutters, his voice rough and strained. “god, i’ve dreamed of this for so fucking long…”

his words push you further, every syllable igniting something primal in you. you let go of every inhibition, your moans growing louder as he finds that perfect spot inside you, the one that leaves you reeling.

just when you think you’ve felt it all, caleb surprises you. his grip on your hair tightens slightly as he brings his other hand to your throat, his palm pressing lightly against your skin. the added sensation leaves you stunned, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in close, his voice a low whisper that makes your pulse race.

“how are you so loud, princess?” caleb murmurs, his words teasing yet softened by the gentleness in his tone as he trails praises over your skin. “i know you can take more than this. my girl is so strong, isn’t she?”

tears prick at the corners of your eyes, the overwhelming sensations building, the tension in your body coiling tighter and tighter with each second. you squirm against your restraints, craving more of him, every fiber of your being begging to let go.

“caleb, i’m so close,” you gasp sharply, his movements deliberate as he pulls your hips closer, each thrust leaving you breathless. “you fuck me so good, yes,” you manage, voice breaking under the weight of everything.

caleb pauses just long enough to undo the makeshift restraint, his dark, intent gaze never leaving you. his fingers work quickly, and the wire is discarded without a second thought. his hands steady you as he flips you onto your back, positioning you in missionary again.

you look up at him, relieved to see the same undone expression mirrored on his face. sweat beads along his skin as he breathes heavily, his movements just as affected as yours. instinctively, you reach out for him, but he catches your hands effortlessly, pinning them above your head.

“you’re mine,” he growls lowly, his voice strained with intensity, his gaze burning into yours. “all pretty and mine, finally.”

his grip remains firm as he leans down, his lips finding your neck, leaving heated kisses and light marks in his wake. his other hand braces against your hip, steadying you as he moves with an intensity that leaves no room for anything else. the bed shifts with each motion, his every movement deliberate and overwhelming as your own release builds again, unstoppable this time.

“caleb, please—i need to,” you plead, your voice trembling, barely holding yourself together as you teeter on the edge. “please let me…”

his gaze softens briefly, his focus solely on you as he leans closer, his movements never faltering. “just a little more, princess,” he murmurs. “i’ve got you.”

his thrusts are so powerful you’re sure he’s beating up your stomach, guts fully rearranged until they spell his fucking name.

“you want to come, princess? is that what you’re asking for?” caleb’s voice is firm, laced with dominance, but there’s a tenderness beneath the edge as his hands hold you firmly in place, grounding you amidst the chaos.

“yes, caleb, please,” you gasp, your voice breaking under the weight of your own need.

he holds you strictly in place as he gives it to you unforgivingly, hammering your pussy like it’s his, because fuck, are you goddamn his.

he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “then tell me, baby,” he murmurs, his tone commanding yet teasing, “what’s my name?”

your voice trembles as caleb moans, your walls aching so bad your clit’s engorged beyond comprehension. it’s sickening the way he fucks you, so intoxicating and blissful and perfect you feel your soul leaving your body, feel your insides coiling so tightly you’re going to snap any second.

“caleb, fuck, caleb!”

“do i treat you right, baby?” caleb asks, his voice softer now, tinged with vulnerability beneath the heat. “will you let me be yours? will you let me love you, finally?”

“yes,” you gasp, your voice trembling with conviction. “god, yes—whatever you want. i’m yours, caleb. always have been.”

his response is immediate, shifting his position to deepen his movements, his breaths coming out in rough, raw grunts as he finds an angle that leaves you utterly undone. every motion is purposeful, pushing you to the brink as your hands strain against his hold, your body giving in completely to him.

and then it happens—your vision clouds, a rush of heat and intensity overtaking you as the tension inside you snaps like a tightly wound coil. everything bursts at once, your body consumed by waves of release so powerful it leaves you breathless, shaking as the moment overwhelms you entirely.

you’re so in your head it’s caleb’s frantic speaking that even keeps you at it, suddenly feeling something gush out of you in sheer abundance. “oh, oh shit, princess, you’re squirting, holy fuck, yes. just like that, baby, this is so fucking hot.” he praises copiously as you squirt all over caleb’s cock, leaving a gigantic, sloppy mess as he finally allows himself to come fiercely.

the connection between you remains unbroken as he lets himself go, his own release crashing over him. his body shudders, and you feel him tremble against you as the intensity of it all leaves you both breathless. the world narrows down to this shared moment, leaving you weightless and entirely consumed by the euphoria of being completely his.

your body lurches off his cushions and caleb’s dick twitches inside you, throbs and fills you up to the brim with his cum, the feeling nothing short of euphoria.

he releases with a deep, guttural groan, his body trembling as his palms press into the bed on either side of your head, caging you in. his breaths come in heavy, uneven huffs as he hovers above you, beads of sweat clinging to his damp hair, a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction radiating from him.

your wrists fall limply above your head, released from his grip, but you barely have the strength to move them. your body feels heavy, spent, every muscle lax from the intensity of the moment. your eyes flutter open and closed, exhaustion pulling at you as you try to focus on the man above you.

he’s still nestled against you, his body fitting yours like it was meant to, his forehead coming to rest gently against yours. his voice, low and husky, breaks through the haze. “pipsqueak, baby, don’t sleep just yet,” he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours as he cups your face in his warm hands.

your throat feels dry, your body too worn to respond fully, but his touch keeps you grounded. he brushes his thumbs over your cheeks, his voice soft and tender, as if to anchor you. “princess, you were amazing. you did so well… my good girl, forever my good girl,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose.

you barely manage a small nod, the pull of sleep too strong to resist much longer. his words are like a lullaby, soft and full of adoration, wrapping around you as you drift.

“i love you, caleb,” you manage to mutter, your body still trembling faintly from the aftershocks coursing through you. “i always have.”

his movements still at your confession, and though your eyes remain closed, you can feel the weight of his shock. his silence stretches, thick with emotion, and you wish you could see the expression on his face.

“you do, princess?” he finally breathes, his voice cracking with disbelief. “are you sure?” the raw vulnerability in his tone is almost heartbreaking, as if the idea of you loving him is too fragile, too precious for him to fully believe.

you nod, unable to speak, too afraid to shatter the fragile moment between you.

his hand brushes against your face, trembling slightly. “i’ll be good for you, princess,” he murmurs, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “i promise. you’ll never have to cry again. not ever.”

you feel a strange pressure leave your body, realizing it’s caleb pulling out of you. the sensation leaves you feeling empty, but his gentle care grounds you. he moves with practiced tenderness, cleaning you up and whispering soft reassurances as your exhausted muscles fight against the weight of sleep. even as your body surrenders to the pull of rest, his touch remains a steady reminder that you’re safe in his hands.

as caleb works quietly, his hands careful and deliberate, you can’t help but notice the shift in him. the way he moves, the way he looks at you—it’s different now. softer, almost reverent. he’s so eager, so determined to tend to your every need, as though this moment means as much to him as it does to you.

he catches your gaze, and for a moment, you see it—his redemption arc, written in the lines of his face, in the way his hands tremble ever so slightly as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. he’s trying so hard, pouring every ounce of himself into being what he thinks you need.

“princess,” he murmurs, his voice soft as his fingers trace your jaw. “you okay? do you need anything else?”

his question is earnest, his eyes searching yours for any hint of discomfort or lingering pain. and it’s in that moment you realize—this isn’t just about pleasing you. this is about him trying to earn something he doesn’t think he deserves. your love. your trust. your forgiveness.

“the condom, you asshole—you forgot the fucking condom,” you say, trying to sound angry, though there’s a playful glint in your eyes.

caleb freezes, his body going rigid as panic spreads across his face. his gaze darts to your body, and it’s like his senses have only just returned to him.

“shit—fuck, princess, i swear it wasn’t on purpose! i just… i wanted to feel you so fucking bad,” he blurts out, his words tumbling over themselves in his desperation to explain. “after you said you needed me or else you were going to die, i—i lost it. i threw all caution out the window. i’m so fucking sorry—”

his rambling apology is so frantic, so guilt-ridden, that you can’t hold back the soft chuckle bubbling up from your chest. it cuts him off mid-sentence, his eyes snapping up to meet yours, wide and full of worry. the tenderness in his expression, the way he’s so wrapped up in your well-being, tugs at something deep inside you.

“what?” he asks, his voice almost breaking. “fuck—i know it’s my fault, i know, i’m going to—”

“caleb,” you interrupt softly, reaching up to thread your fingers through his tousled brown hair. the motion draws his attention, grounding him as his frantic thoughts start to settle. “i’m joking. i’m on the pill.”

his eyes search yours, blinking in disbelief as your words sink in. “you’re… you’re joking?” he repeats, his voice a mix of relief and exasperation.

“yeah,” you say with a small, teasing smile, letting your fingers curl a little tighter in his hair. “relax. i’ve got it handled.”

he exhales a shaky laugh, resting his forehead against yours as his body finally unclenches. “jesus, princess, you almost gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“good,” you reply, smirking. “you deserve it for forgetting the condom in the first place.”

he laughs again, softer this time, and there’s something vulnerable about the sound. “you’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmurs, pressing a light kiss to your lips.

“maybe,” you whisper against his mouth, your smile growing.

caleb pulls back just enough to look at you, his lips still curved in a soft smile, but his eyes are searching yours. there's something unspoken there, a mixture of relief and lingering uncertainty, like he’s still trying to believe this moment is real. his hand brushes your cheek, his thumb trailing a path down to your jaw, grounding you both in the quiet intimacy of the aftermath.

"you know," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, "i’ve always dreamed of us like this. not just the… well, you know," he says with a small, self-conscious laugh that tugs at your heart. "but being with you, waking up next to you, knowing that this isn’t just something fleeting." his brow furrows slightly, the vulnerability in his expression catching you off guard. "this means everything to me, princess."

your chest tightens at his words, the weight of them settling over you like a warm blanket. you reach up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over the faint stubble on his cheeks. "this isn’t fleeting, caleb," you say softly, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "it never was. i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere. not now, not ever."

his eyes close briefly, like he’s taking in the full meaning of your words, before he leans down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. "thank you," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "thank you for giving me this. for giving us a chance."

the silence between you stretches, but it’s not the kind that feels empty. it’s filled with understanding, with promises unspoken but felt in every look, every touch. outside, the faint hum of skyhaven’s magnetic fields reminds you of where you are, but for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re not afraid of the isolation. caleb is here, and that’s all that matters.

"we should probably clean up," you say after a moment, your voice light but teasing as you glance at the mess the two of you have made. caleb grins, a mischievous glint in his eye as he leans down to nuzzle against your neck.

"or," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, "we could stay like this a little longer. i mean, i’d hate to let go of my good girl so soon." his playful tone makes you laugh, the sound light and free, and you realize that for all the chaos that brought you here, you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

"five more minutes," you agree, your arms wrapping around him as he settles beside you. it’s not perfect—not yet—but as you lie there together, tangled up in each other, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is the beginning of something that will be. something that feels a lot like forever.

author’s note: thank you for everyone who took the time to read the four chapters of this mini-series, especially those who commented, you guys have my heart. the cheeky ending is a must, i'm sorry. send me a request • my masterpost

taglist: @bbieainee

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koolades-world · 1 year ago

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Hello I like your writing :)

Can I pls request demon bros with a v affectionate but v touch starved MC,, like they’re always offering the bros hugs and holding their hand and casually telling them all I love you and stuff, but the first time one of them gave MC a hug (not just accepting a hug that MC gives them, actually giving one to MC) they just kinda,, melt, cling desperately and cry a bit… maybe ask them not to let go yet

Knowing the bros it prob would have been Beel, Mammon, or maybe Asmo to offer that first hug, but how do you think all 7 would respond to that (if you want to write all 7 of course, no pressure obv)?

Specifically, responding to being the first one to give MC a hug, and MC not reacting casual and chill as he would have expected (given how touchy with everyone MC is normally), but instead them getting so emotional about it and not wanting to be released, because they absolutely thrive on physical affection and they love hugs, but no one holds them—and they needed to be held so bad

(Sorry if this is too specific)

hey! :)

hello former anon haha, saw your name in my inbox twice and thought I was going nuts but no! you just made a request in like mid januaryish and I'm only just now getting there lol

sorry about no post yesterday and that this one is a little late. yesterday was my friend's birthday and today is super bowl sunday lol

yeah of course I can write this! please enjoy!

Affectionate but touch starved Mc

Lucifer

his office is always open for you so at some point you just wandered in and he found himself in a hug from behind

when he reached his arms up to try to half hug you back, you almost tumble over the back of his chair

you're basically in his lap daily after that for your hug while he's doing paperwork

he's also kind of touch starved too so he never objectes

Mammon

I think he would be the first to offer a hug in his own roundabout way, or by just opening his arms to you

he’s not expecting your reaction but it melts his heart so he doesn’t want to let go

so the two of you just… stand there for the next fifteen or so minutes

after that he’s sweeter and more touchy with you

Levi

only offers the hug once you're close and something big just happened

he's very unsure about how to feel since he's also very touch starved

he doesn't want to let go either honestly

after this, he tries his best to offer you hugs more often but he just needs to work up the courage every time

Satan

he's super big on hand holding so eventually he's bound to twirl you into a hug eventually

the first time you do hug is when he pulls you out of the way to avoid getting runover by a crowd

he was not expecting you to hug him so tightly and how you didn't let go after the crowd was gone

now, he often invites you for hugs while he's reading or studying

Asmo

the type to spin you around while you hug

gosh such a hugger! loves physical touch so you're in luck

his arms are always around your shoulder with a hug from behind or from the side, or he's gripping your arm

let him know you love and want it, and he will provide and snuggle you every night

Beel

there’s always room for you in his heart and arms

if you randomly come up to him and just lean on him, he’ll scoop you up and continue what he’s doing

if you want you can koala hug him and he’ll carry you around so you can get all your hugging in

of course, he makes sure to shower you with attention you deserve once he’s finished with what he’s doing

Belphie

he actually started hugging you in his sleep

when he woke up, you were basically in tears and holding him in the death grip

he hugs you before he goes to sleep now too

you always share the same blanket and if he can't be there for whatever reason, he leaves you the blanket so you can burrito yourself in it

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #headcanons #gn reader

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a-memory-a-distant-echo · 3 months ago

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ok, you know what, fuck it, fic recs post. historically i try not to rec works in progress or things i haven't commented on and i'm throwing that fully out the window for this because honestly, fucking whatever.

if you're on this list and i haven't been fully unhinged at you in the comments, please know that it's because (1) i'm the worst and (2) i'm trying desperately to calibrate so i hit 'enthusiastic' and not 'kind of frightening, actually'. i swear that i have written at least several sentences of a comment for every fic on this list, it's just that i'm genuinely impossibly slow, sometimes. it's me, not you.

my previous rec post is here, in case you missed that. as a bonus, special for this rec list and as a concession to the horrors, i am attempting to guess how much any given fic will fuck up the average person. obviously this is a ymmv kind of situation, but i'm trying, at least?

everything else under a cut because i am longwinded.

and found by @dangerouscommiesubversive, explicit, every possible combination of di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua | li xiangyi; bless, but i am not typing all that out. starting off with a wip where i haven't left a comment in like four fuckin' chapters, breaking those rules real good. this fic is a fucking ride. i will admit that i wasn't entirely convinced by the premise when i saw the blurb, but i am nothing if not willing to admit when i was wrong, and i was—once again—totally wrong. this is the fic where i was like 'ok but…is anyone really, like, desperate for gen z li xiangyi?' and then i read it and i was like 'ohhhhhh fuck yeah, ok, i get it, i was actually fully desperate for gen z li xiangyi.' he is. such a little prick. i love him. there has been something unexpected and delightful in every single chapter of this so far, plus a number of impressively memorable one-liners. this fic is fun and distracting and at least as of chapter seven, i'm gonna say it's not even gonna fuck you up. (please note that this is only through chapter seven!)

and the days are bright red by @junemermaid, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. rip to my beloved tumblr mutual @junemermaid, because they're getting called out twice in this list, but: tough. this fic is so delightful. featuring: memories of slut era li lianhua, the mortifying ordeal of being known, an entire box of historically accurate sex toys, fang duobing and di feisheng communicating (sometimes silently) in a way that unsettles li lianhua (back from his months-long sojourn), some very hot sex that is both very much about sex and also about trust and being perceived, casual intimacy, and fledgling tenderness. there are Emotions in this, and they get moderately intense, but it's a very kind and surprisingly gentle feel-good fic.

a drink under a clear window by @momosandlemonsoda, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing and fang duobing/qiao wanmian. a fic that tackles the dreaded v-shaped polycule and makes it work. it seems like perhaps it shouldn't: fang duobing as the hinge, with di feisheng and qiao wanmian on either side, but actually it works perfectly, and is a lovely little glimpse at who they could become and the relationships they could have. i love the thought of qiao wanmian having come into her own as a leader in her own right, as more than just the representative of the ghost of li xiangyi, and this does a wonderful job of letting her be her own person. also, yes, ok, passing fang duobing back and forth like a party favour. this is a post-canon fic in which li lianhua is dead, but the fic itself a straightforward delight that is not at all fucky uppy.

the floating clouds, no resting place, again by @junemermaid (not sorry), technically gen and no ship, but functionally pre-di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. the hair-washing fic. ohhhhhh. i started jotting notes for this post the day that i finished this fic, and i really thought that they were in any way comprehensive, but instead, what i typed and left as a note to myself was this:

and honestly. you're right, hypothetical reader, that doesn't totally make sense, but i stand by it regardless, because i apparently had that thought in [checks date i last saved the file] fucking august, and i'm still nodding along with myself. that is that this is like. this fic is very beautiful and will make you ache and will leave you slightly better at the end of it than you were at the beginning. it may also make you cry; this seems to me a fair enough trade.

the floating lotus by @anndramarama, not rated, di feisheng/li xiangyi. pre-canon stuff doesn't always work super well for me, but i really enjoyed this one, featuring di feisheng and li xiangyi when they're both so young and arrogant and full of themselves—and stupid and naïve and young and almost hopeful in a way that they're often not, in fic, for all that they were barely but children at the point of the donghai fight. they just seem…vulnerable, i guess, in this, in a way that i find touching. seasonal bonus: a ghost story, of a sort. given that this is set pre-canon, i think it's hard to come in any softer than bittersweet, which this very much is.

from here one's hand could pluck the stars by @howlingmoonrise, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing. sex pollen fic! also featuring, a little surprisingly, given the premise, incredibly explicit and enthusiastic consent. look, this does what it says on the tin. di feisheng gets sex pollened. fang duobing is left to stay with him. the obvious ensues. unfortunately, it is also devastatingly charming? fang duobing is earnest and sweet; di feisheng is suffering beautifully terribly and trying so hard not to impose on fang duobing. they're both trying so hard to be respectful of what the other person needs, but they're also still bratty and argumentative and exasperated/exasperating, and it's very entertaining. this will fuck you up none percent, and may even make you laugh.

my war is done by @orchisailsa, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. another wip, with the first of three chapters posted, but please understand that this chapter is nearly 15k and so fucking good and compelling. li lianhua lives! and returns to find that things have changed in his absence, and perhaps that he has also changed in his absence, and now wants things that he had told himself he didn't mind not even having to lose. bonus: road trip and—delight!—only one room at the inn. also some other stuff that i'm not spoiling, but that made me absolutely gleeful. this is definitely a work in progress, and while i don't think there's anything particularly upsetting in the chapter, it does end on something of a cliffhanger. i personally do not feel that this is an upsetting cliffhanger, given the information about the fic that's presented in the tags, but it is technically a cliffhanger.

awkward paragraph break, but it's also important, i think, to mention the absolutely stunning (and not at all safe for work) companion piece to my war is done, you'd be there calling my name, by saki the cup bearer, who i don't think is on tumblr. it's fucking incredible; i am very decidedly not an artist but i cannot begin to imagine how much effort went into this. just. holy shit.

not unlike him in shape and form by @philologicalbat, explicit, fang duobing/li lianhua. ok look. i fucking love when things are deeply emotionally messy, and this is so emotionally messy. li lianhua who's been attracted to fang duobing and not doing anything about it, then discovering that fang duobing is shan gudao's son and is very much going to do something about it. he wants in this, and he's cunty and manipulative and mean about it, and sometimes also almost sweet, almost tender, and i love that, because i feel like li lianhua is very often an object of desire and very rarely gets to desire. i love how human he gets to be in this fic. this is not a sweet or gentle fic, but it does end in a moderately tender place that is tentatively hopeful, i think.

unbecoming heir by @bettercostume, explicit, di feisheng/princess zhaoling. i am taking your hand in mine and begging you to trust me. i know what this fic looks like. it's noncon and a weird pairing and you might look at it and expect it to go in the obvious direction and: it does not. this fic is so good that it makes me angry. it makes me miserable and everyone in this fic is trying so miserably, miserably hard, and it's fucking devastating. i spent literally thirty minutes earlier today yelling at my wife about it. i cannot rec this fic strongly enough. this is not a happy fic, but it is a good fic. it will absolutely fuck you up. this is very complimentary but also you will be fucked up.

until you are its primary evidence by @ilgaksu, mature, di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. the single most effective use of what is effectively a prologue that i've ever seen in fic, are you kidding me. this fic is nothing at all like what i expected it to be, and is something far better than what i could have imagined. it's fang duobing's point of view, which is a rarity already, and it's so well done, and it allows him so much humanity and so much anger and grace alike. there are so many tricky things about this fic—the prologue, the fact that it's set in the amnesia arc, fang duobing's pov, the fact that it actually addresses canonical disabilities and illnesses without being fucking weird about it, the tension between the three of them—and it's all balanced so well. this has some emotionally heavier moments but ends tentatively happily; tentative only because it's set during the amnesia arc, and, well. we know what comes next.

as a final note: if you wrote one of these fics and feel that i've wildly misinterpreted the emotional tenor of the ending, please message me in whatever way you prefer and i will correct it. i would not normally presume to guess how things are likely hit people, as i am in many ways not anyone's ideal reader, but today it seemed like it was kinder to at least try.

#mysterious lotus casebook #fic recs #mlc fic #difanghua #liansanjiao #difang #fanghua #feihua #sorry to everyone who's seeing this post twice! it's just that i tried to correct one thing (missed a tag) and tumblr ate the whole post 💀#anyhow!#this is not what i had planned to do with my overnight last night #but it was an enjoyable couple of hours rereading all of these #so thank you very much for that #hopefully someone else who wants distraction will also find this useful #everyone please rest up and take care of yourself and stay hydrated and stuff ok? ok. good talk.#echoes linger #also i swear that i'm working on the comments thing #it's just that sometimes forming my thoughts into something audible to other people #feels very much like diy tooth extraction #the kind with rusty pliers and a shot of vodka #you know?#i'm working on it 💕

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pensat-i-fet · 2 years ago

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All yours (Rúben Dias x Reader)

**So I got a couple of requests to write about being on holiday with Rúben after he posted some holiday content. And a more specific one involved this sort of fwb situation with some jealousy in the mix that inspired me a lot. And this is what I came up with. I always appreciate any feedback but this time it'd be interesting to know your thoughts since the tone and vibe (not the topic itself completely) of this is similar to a Rúben series I need to continue working on. So it'd be amazing to know how you guys feel about it. Enjoy reading!! ❤️**

Word count: 2947

Masterlist

Wattpad

"You're coming with us to our holiday, right?", asked Rúben when you got out of the shower.

"I don't know".

"What do you mean you don't know? You've travelled with us for the last 5 years. Do you have better plans?"

"I just…I don't know if it's the best idea now that…you know".

He got closer to you, smirking. "I might be having memory problems. Now that what?"

"You'll have other problems if you don't remove that annoying smug grin from your ugly face", you said, rolling your eyes and making him laugh.

When you tried to walk towards your closet, he stopped you wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Do you mean", he said, leaving kisses on your neck, "now that we stay in each other's beds instead of the guest rooms during our sleepovers? Because I only see that as a bigger reason for you to be there. I'm sure we'll find a way to have some alone time".

"But this is just something casual, Rúben. You’ve said it many times. What if I cockblock you? Or worse…you cockblock me!"

You noticed his arms holding you tighter for a heartbeat before he let go of you.

"We'll be fine. Please come with us, the boys always want you there. I want you there. You know that".

There was something in his tone that made you stop. Did he sound a bit…sad? But why would he? It’s just the summer holidays.

“Where are you going anyway? Same as always?”

“No, we’re going to Miami”.

He looked at your reaction, knowing you’d wanted to visit Miami for years. That was actually one of the reasons why he suggested that place as an option in the first place.

“I mean…”.

“I’ll send you the info when I finish booking everything”.

“I didn’t say yes, Rúben”.

“You said it with your eyes”.

“Oh yeah? What are my eyes saying now?”, you asked, glaring at him. “Stop smirking! You’re so annoying!”

"We are going to have so much fun!"

"Nothing is going to happen there. No one can know about this…arrangement. Or we'll never hear the end of it".

"Try and be a bit more quiet, then".

He was still laughing when the pillow hit his face and you took that opportunity to go get dressed. And to start planning what to pack for Miami.

"I'm so hungover", you said when your little group of friends was waiting at the airport for your flight to the US.

"You sit with Rúben, then. He's probably still hungover too from the celebrations".

"As long as he doesn't puke again…".

"You're all so funny", said Rúben, rolling his eyes. He wasn't hungover but really tired after such a long season.

"You take the window seat. I'll be sleeping most of the time, anyway".

"Ok".

Trying to get comfortable, you started to notice it was a bit chilly on the plane.

"I need my jacket and your brother has my bag. I'll be right back", you said, trying to get up but Rúben stopped you.

"Just wear my hoodie", he took it off and put it in your lap, but instead of taking it you just stared at it. "What?"

"It's just that, wearing your clothes…that’s like couple stuff. And we’re not a couple".

"It's something you've done your entire life. Don't try to make it weird just because we are sleeping together now".

"Rúben!", your eyes widened and you also noticed the man sitting to your left staring at you two.

But he just shrugged and put his headphones on, ready to watch a movie. So you took the hoodie and put it on before trying to fall asleep quickly. But seeing Rúben sitting next to you made it harder to sleep. This whole friends with benefits thing was fun. I mean, it was Rúben you got to sleep with. But it was also…weird. You had always been friends and how were you supposed to go back to just friends once one of you found a partner? And why did that idea feel so wrong right now?

"Can't sleep?", he asked when he looked at you and saw you staring at his movie.

You shook your head, sighing.

"Come here".

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Come closer so you can cuddle me. You'll fall asleep quicker".

"You think so highly of yourself, Dias…".

But you did as he said, moving closer so you could put your arms around his waist and place your head on his chest. His arm was around your shoulder and his hand kept caressing the top of your arm. And even if you were overanalyzing a gesture that was so normal for you two, in just a couple of minutes, you were already sleeping.

Sleeping on the plane meant you were ready to enjoy the rest of the day once you landed in Miami. Everyone else just wanted to go to the beach and rest but you were itching to go out to explore the city.

"Come on!! It's so early. Let's go find somewhere to eat and then we can walk around the area".

"I'll go with you".

When Rúben spoke, everyone looked at him and you started to worry about them suspecting something. He was always volunteering to be with you, no matter what you suggested.

"Cool, Rúben can go with you and be your bodyguard for tonight".

"Bodyguard?"

"We aren't going to let you run around all alone in a foreign country…and at night".

"You don't even let me run around my hometown", you muttered, rolling your eyes at how overprotective they all were.

"You are like a little sister to us. We have to protect you. So off you go with big bro Rúben".

Shaking your head, you turned to leave the hotel, noticing Rúben right behind you.

For the first couple of minutes, you two walked in silence. You were too busy staring at your surroundings to say anything. And then you noticed Rúben putting his arm around your shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"There are some weird guys looking at you".

"Thank you, big brother. What would I do without your protection?"

Rúben didn't find your sarcasm funny and when you were walking past an alley a couple of seconds later, he made you both walk inside it so he could push you against the wall and kiss you.

"I'm not your brother".

"You aren't my boyfriend either".

He shook his head, looking like he wanted to say more but not doing it. "Let's keep walking".

When you got back to the hotel, a part of you was hoping he would ask you to go to his room. Or that he would follow you to yours but he only wished you a goodnight and left you outside of the lift.

That's where you found him and the rest of the gang the next morning.

"Ready for today?"

"What's the plan?", you asked, hoping they didn't just plan on staying at the beach all day.

"Breakfast, beach, sightseeing and night out".

"I love that plan", you said, clapping your hands. "Maybe we can go shopping too".

After you had some breakfast, you moved to the private area of the beach so you could relax on the sunbeds for a couple of hours.

"I need sunscreen on my back!", you said, lifting your arm that held the bottle until someone grabbed it. You didn't even know who did, but when you placed your head on the sunbed, you saw Rúben sitting a couple of sunbeds away from you. So it wasn't him.

You closed your eyes, trying to relax. But anyone who bothered looking at Rúben's face would have noticed the tension in his features. He knew neither his brother nor his friends were interested in you in that way. They really meant it when they said you were like a sister to them. But still, seeing another man's hands on your body filled him with rage. He wanted to be the one putting the cream on your back and shoulders, leaving kisses all over your body while he applied it. But he had to look from afar. And it ruined his mood for the whole day.

By the time you made it to the hotel, you only had 30 minutes to get ready. But you already planned some cute outfits for the nights out so you ended up getting ready in less than half an hour.

"You're wearing that?"

His friend's words made Rúben look up.

"We are not doing this, boys. It's just a dress".

"One of us by your side the whole time, yeah", they joked.

"You'll have to catch me first!", you laughed, running outside of the hotel and making all your friends get up quickly to follow you.

You were so busy looking behind you that you didn't notice someone walking in front of you until you bumped into him.

"Oh my God! Sorry".

"It's ok", he said, holding your arm to steady you. "Are you ok? Were you running away from someone?"

His concern made you smile. And the fact that he was cute didn't hurt. "My friends but as a joke. They are alright…and right there".

"And they are all men".

"Yeah", you laughed. "But they act like little boys most of the time".

When they got to where you, and a stranger, were, they didn't know what to do. It was always hilarious to you how they didn't understand the concept of you talking to other men. You were one of the lads to them, but in moments like that, they realized you weren't a lad.

"We were going to grab a drink at a bar, do you want to come with us?"

"Sure", the guy, Sean, said. And you introduced him to everyone before making your way to the bar.

To say that Rúben wasn't happy would be an understatement. He just kept staring at you and Sean, while you were laughing and dancing. It should be him doing that with you, not a random dude whose last name you didn't even know.

"Another drink? How obvious".

"What are you muttering, grumpy?", asked his brother, who knew more than you and Rúben thought.

"Nothing…but I mean, what's that? The third drink he buys for her? We all know what he's trying to do".

"We are here to avoid that, stop worrying. No one is hurting her while we are around".

"I don't know. Maybe she wants it. Maybe she wants him".

Everyone could hear the bitterness in Rúben's voice.

"When she should want you, right?"

Rúben cleared his throat, not wanting to look at his brother after being so obvious.

"Do you think I don't know about you two?"

That made him look. "How would you…".

"You're not as discreet as you think you are but I get you wanted to keep it a secret so whatever", he shrugged. "What I didn't know was that there was more".

"More?"

"You couldn't be more jealous, Rúben".

"It's just something casual. But she's my friend…".

"No, she's my friend. That's why I'm careful to look her way every once in a while just in case she needs me. You are just looking at him and fantasizing about breaking his nose, probably".

Rúben shook his head and left to go to the bathroom. He just needed to splash some cold water on his face to hopefully get his common sense back. You were just friends with benefits. He didn't get to be jealous.

"Hey, bro".

Of course, it had to be Sean who he found in the bathroom. "Hey! Having a good time?"

"Do you have to ask?", he laughed, and Rúben didn't like that laugh at all. "Your friend is so hot. Is she good in bed too? She has to be, right?"

"How would I know? She's just my friend".

"Right…if my group of friends had a hot chick like her in it, we would all be just friends. Of course".

"What are you insinuating about her?".

Sean didn't realise how much bigger than him Rúben was until they were almost face to face.

"The way you all joke, the way she dresses…and she just invited me to buy her drinks before she even asked my name. Do you want me to believe you haven't all at least tried it once? I know girls like her".

Rúben pushed Sean against the wall, lowering his voice to try to not make a scene. But making sure his voice was menacing enough for Sean to get the message that he could break his nose, like his brother suggested, very easily.

"You don't know her at all. And what you're going to do is go out and excuse yourself and leave. Or you'll regret every word you've said about her…and all the ones you thought but didn't say out loud. Am I clear?"

Sean swallowed and nodded. And Rúben moved back just enough to allow him to leave the bathroom but to also take note of how strong Rúben really was.

He took a couple of deep breaths before going out and when he did, he couldn't believe what he saw. Not only was Sean still there, one of his hands was on your waist and he was whispering things in your ear.

Without saying a word to anyone, he walked towards you two and when Sean saw him, he just smiled.

"You don't want to make a scene here, do you?"

"What are you talking about?", you asked, looking from Sean to Rúben, confused about the whole situation.

"We are leaving", said Rúben, grabbing your hand so you can follow him.

"What? No! Why would I leave? I'm chatting with Sean".

"The guy who calls you a whore the moment you're not around? No, you are coming with me".

"He called her a what?"

All of your friends were now surrounding Sean. But you didn't care about any of them, tired of their overprotective nature towards you. So you let go of Rúben's hand and got out of the bar.

Rúben followed you, worried about your reaction.

"Wait! Stop walking. You're not even going in the right direction!"

"Maybe I'm going in the right direction because I'm going as far away from you as possible!"

"You didn't hear what he said about you. It was disgusting".

"If I want to be with a disgusting guy, it's my problem!"

"Now you're being ridiculous. Should we let you be taken advantage of?"

You finally stopped walking and turned to look at Rúben.

"What do you want from me? You are confusing me so much that my head is fucking spinning! First, you want us to just be fuck buddies and nothing else. Then you act all jealous whenever I talk to a guy but you keep on going out with girls so…how does that work? Do I get to be jealous too? Or it's only you who can?"

Rúben didn't know what to say. Because he was the first one confused by what he felt.

"What is it, Rúben? Because I don't know. And now you do what? Defend my honour? As if you were my boyfriend".

"You didn't hear what he said about you", he repeated, still mad at Sean's words.

"Let me guess. He thinks I'm fucking all of you, right? Like literally every man I meet that finds out I have a group of friends with only men in it", when you saw Rúben's face, you let out a sad laugh. "He was going to be a one-night stand, Rúben. Not my future husband. Who cares what he thinks about me?"

"I do! Hearing him say those things about you…".

"I said it the other day and I'll say it again. Rúben, you aren't my boyfriend. Stop acting like you are".

He swore under his breath when you started to walk again.

"Let's change that, then".

"Change what?"

"Let me be your boyfriend".

This time you stopped walking but feared turning to face him. Those were the words you had been dying to hear since the day you kissed while watching a movie months ago. You expected him to tell you he felt the same way about you. That he had been in love with you for years too. But he just proposed the stupid friends with benefits arrangement. And you said yes because at least you got to have him in some way. But it wasn't enough. You kept pushing him, telling him you weren’t a couple when he acted like your boyfriend. You wanted him to react. And he finally did.

"Don't just say it because you are angry at a dude calling me names, Rúben. You don't get to play with my feelings like that".

"I'm not playing. I thought I was scared of losing you as a friend but…I was just scared of facing my feelings. Of telling you how I felt and seeing you rejecting me".

"How do you feel?"

"I love you. And I know it's not the first time I tell you that but …I don't mean love as a friend. I mean, that too, of course. But I'm also in love with you. And I have been for a while"

He didn't know how to interpret the tears in your eyes. But a hug was always a good option, right?

"I love you too. But I need all of you, Rúben. Not just the little bits I've been getting these past months. It’s all or nothing".

"You have it all. All of it. I'm all yours. And I need you to be mine".

"I already am".

#ruben dias #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias one shot #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x y/n #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias angst #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer fluff #footballer angst

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eccentricgrace · 5 months ago

Text

juice jam || IronDad

summary: peter and tony go out for smoothies, they get interrupted by some annoying paps.

tags: fluff, protective tony stark, banter, paparazzi, tony stark acting as peter parker's father figure

wc: 2,563

cross-posted to wattpad under the same name!

"Your pick is fine, I'm not saying it's not!" Peter argued back quickly, his eyes wide. On his own tongue, the cold icy fractals of his far more delicious Pink Starburst smoothie. "I'm just saying it's not the best one on the entire menu, that's all."

Tony held the foam cup of his Chocolate Moo'd in a protective vice grip— which is basically blended chocolate frozen yogurt —and screwed up his face. He lowered his shades with an inelegant poise and a good serving of disgruntlement. "Pete, you're drinking a smoothie that is literally called 'candy in a cup'. I think I'll take my own advice and hold off from the type two diabetes diagnosis for a few more years."

"Okay," Peter said. "Okay. Okay. But you haven't even tried it. I bet you'll admit mine is better if you try it. Ned did. He didn't believe me at first either, he refused to say anything was as good as the strawberry banana one."

"I'm inclined to agree with him just to tick you off."

Peter huffed and put the half-guzzled cup on the table. He pushed it towards Tony. "Just try it. You're so grumpy, Mr. Stark. For no reason."

"'No reason,' he says," Tony mumbled, reaching for the bright pink smoothie. "As if you didn't come into my smoothie haven, my church of juice, and begin spewing— spewing blasphemy."

Peter hid back his smile.

Tony had picked him up from school today. Plans were to have sitcom-takeout night with May, but as they were getting into the car, Peter had gotten a message about her having to work late. With their plans changed, and both of them damp with the autumnal rain that was nasty and cold the way New York rain usually was: of course the best way to waste time and beat the cold was even colder smoothies.

They were at the Jamba Juice at Rockefeller Plaza, which in itself was a feat considering the company he was in. Tony was wearing his "disguise", which really only consisted of his shades, a hat, jeans, and a hoodie pulled over his head. Nobody had noticed them yet.

Peter couldn't help but wonder what people saw when they looked at them in the corner of the store. The way they bantered sometimes, the ease of which they moved in each other's company— they'd been referred to as "father and son" more than once by cashiers and waiters alike. It was a nice compliment, to be seen that close to someone he looked up to. He could keep it tucked very secretly under his sleeve, for no other purpose than to keep him warm.

(And maybe sometimes he wondered how Tony felt whenever someone said something like that. The casual "I'll get a table for you and your son" or "you and your son look so alike!")

Tony took a sip of the pink smoothie, staring blankly ahead of him. Peter watched expectantly for something dramatic— his eyes to light up, his brows to raise, his hands to be thrown in the air with the angry astonishment of being proven dead wrong.

Instead, Tony sighed, put the cup down. Indignantly went to his own drink, furiously sipping at the straw. Peter's smile grew.

Then, finally:

"Fine."

"Yes!" Peter burst with victorious laughter, reaching over the table and taking his smoothie back. "I told you! I told you so. I would never lie about this. It's too important."

"Oh, so this is too important for you to lie, but when you had that little injury the other day, it wasn't?" Tony asked, a dry smile plastered on his face. "Is that what you're saying to me right now? Your poor old man?"

Peter's grin turned guilty, and he quickly went back to finishing the second half of his smoothie.

"Geez," Tony commented with amusement. "Ease up on that straw, you're gonna go into one of your spider-hibernation things. The middle of a Jamba Juice is not the time or place, kid."

"I think it's the perfect time and place, actually. Really truly. I can feel myself getting sleepy just thinking about it."

"Har har. What a comedian you are," Tony said, sliding out of the booth. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket. "You ready to go?"

"Yep!"

Peter wiped his hands of the sticky, watered-down juice that had dribbled down the side of the cup, and stood.

As he did so, the back of his spine began to buzz. He heard a series of shuddering clicks, and he narrowed his eyes to look around the small space.

"What's going on?" Tony asked casually, but there was an undertone of something distinctive in its quality for fixing things. He had clearly taken notice of whatever changed in Peter's face, because this was the voice he only used when they were dealing with Spidey extracurriculars.

Peter forced his shoulders to relax. He scratched at his face, half-covering his mouth, and lowered his voice to say: "Dunno. Someone's watching us."

Tony hummed impassively, but Peter saw his eyes sharpen, he saw the way the heads-up display of his glasses lit up faintly from behind the dark lense. He subtly scanned over the joint, like Peter did, and finally landed on something outside the window.

"Paparazzi," Tony said simply. He sighed deeply and began to shuck off his hoodie and hat. "Alright, kid. Pop quiz, listening? Trade."

"Uh," Peter helplessly let the trash in his hands be taken, and instead grabbed hold of the hoodie that was tossed into his hands. "I guess?"

"Put those on." Tony walked over and threw both of their cups and napkins in the trash. He walked back and smoothed over the wrinkles on his dress shirt. "Do you smile at the camera people?"

"Yes?" Peter guessed, his voice muffling through the fabric of the thick hoodie he was wrestling over his head. (Funnily enough, Tony's old clothes were all slowly becoming his size. It's crazy what a growth spurt and benching the equivalent of like, forty trains on a daily basis can do to a physique.)

"Wrong. Never smile at the paps," Tony shoved the hat over Peter's head, a baseball cap of the Yankees, which he as a proud Queens born-and-raised local would pretend not to be personally offended by. "They're gonna ask you a bunch of questions, are you gonna answer them?"

"No," Peter said, more sure of his answer this time.

"Good job." Tony reached over and fit the hood snuggly down on his head, drawing the strings in a little. "Are you gonna look at them?"

"No—" Peter squirmed as Tony started to mess with the hat to further cover his head. "Mr. Stark, is all this really necessary? I mean, they already got a picture of my face earlier!"

"Believe me, they're not gonna have that picture by the end of the day, and I don't intend to give them anymore." Tony patted him on the shoulder. "Alright, you're all set. Listen, this part is important: stay close to me, don't get lost in the crowd, and absolutely don't listen to anything they say. They're gonna try to provoke a reaction from you. Don't buy into it."

"Okay," Peter gave a smile, while a weak, uncomfortable laugh bubbled out from his chest. "I think I got it. I still don't get why you think they'd care about who I am, though. I'm not the celebrity, you are. They're not gonna care about some—"

"Spider-baby-asking-questions time is over," Tony said, raising his eyebrows. "The more we stand here, the more cameras there's gonna be when we finally get out on the street. Time to go."

"I—" Peter blubbered for a second, and then followed Tony quickly as he turned to the door. Stay close.

Peter learned quickly that Tony walked very fast when paparazzi were involved. He also learned quickly that paparazzi were the closest human equivalent to mosquitos in the summer heat. They swarmed, an entire bloodthirsty group that materialized out of seemingly nowhere, and they were so loud, all buzzy and everything.

He clumsily dodged through bright flashes of the most cameras he'd ever seen, never less than two feet from Tony at all times. If he wanted to, he could count maybe seven different people shouting questions at him, even more shouting at Tony.

"Kid! Look here! Hey! Hey, over here— Hey! Give me a smile! Can you smile for us? Hey, Tony!"

"Mr. Stark! Few questions for the record? What are you doing with a kid?"

"Hey, look over here! I've got a few questions for— Can you spare a minute of your time?"

Tony was valiant as he weaved through the mob, only glancing back every few seconds to make sure Peter was behind him and in sight. The occasional sarcastic comment that brought Peter back to watching YouTube interview compilations way before all of this.

Anyways, he made it look so easy, all of it practiced and seamless, which made sense after Peter remembered that his mentor practically grew up in all of... this. He wondered if Tony would tell him any horror stories of dodging this when he was a kid— he wondered if he even wanted to know.

"Tony, just a second! What happened with the Accords? Have you heard from Captain America?"

"Look over here! Here! Mr. Stark, who is that?"

"Kid, what's your name? Look here for us! Hey!"

He and Tony had almost made it to the car, and Peter was following all the rules. It was harder to not smile than he thought, solely because this whole thing had rapidly become increasingly intolerable, and Peter had a habit of smiling when he was nervous, but he was doing well so far.

In fact, it helped a lot to focus on how miserable it all was, really. When he felt a nervous smile coming on, he just redirected his attention to the cacophony of camera shudders that were assaulting his very sensitive eardrums, or the people yelling over each other, or even the general sound of several shoe pairs scraping over asphalt and concrete. Sensory hell. Don't even get him started on the flashing lights.

"Hey kid, get his attention for us!"

Peter's whole body buzzed loudly, and then he was yanked back by the wrist.

He was fine. Obviously he was fine. Maybe shaken, maybe even the tiniest bit impressed by the audacity, but he was Spider-Man, and he was capable of simply jerking his arm back— which he did.

The facts above apparently didn't matter in the slightest to Tony, because when Peter met his gaze again in the crowd, there was something in it so angry that his lungs went tight with alarm.

"Did you just grab him?" Tony said dangerously, staring at the offender with a blazing fury in his eyes. "Did you fucking grab him? You do that again you're getting amputated by the fucking limb, you hear me?"

He pushed back through the crowd and took hold of Peter's sleeve. Cameras flashed. Peter's face was a bright, embarrassed, cherry red. Tony was breaking his own rule, mortifyingly, just because of him. Oops.

"I'm sorry," came the voice of a man who absolutely didn't sound sorry. "I apologize sir, I just wanted a few lines for an article—"

"Oh, yeah, you wanted a few lines? I'll give you a few lines, buddy. What's your name? What company do you work for? Huh?"

Tony was yelling. Yelling like Peter had never seen him yell before, and the cameras continued to rattle and blind his peripheral vision. He tried tugging at his arm down to get Tony's attention, because the grip Tony had on his sleeve was firm enough to make his knuckles white and he'd surely notice the slightest movement.

"Mr. Stark, we gotta go," Peter tried. "C'mon."

Tony, his face still snarled up like the protective thorn of a blackberry bush, hesitated then. He schooled his expression into something tight-lipped and lock-jawed, and then steamrolled forward to the car.

As soon as they got in, Tony quickly locked their doors, and Peter let out the breath he'd been holding. He reached up and pulled the hood off, then tossed the hat to the backseat.

"Wow. That was—"

"Are you okay?" Tony asked, the stiffness never leaving his posture.

His eyes were darting all over Peter for any other signs of injury or distress. They lingering especially on his wrist for a moment, then Tony reached for his arm gently and scanned over the area with stressed meticulousness. His eyebrows furrowed, his trembling thumb trailing lightly over the skin.

"I'm all good," Peter promised, his eyes wide. "Really, I'm totally okay, no bruises, no breaks."

Tony looked... bad.

His eyes shot back up to Peter's, and there was a lot of guilt in the way they narrowed. If he didn't know any better, he'd say Tony even looked misty. Admittedly, that was horrifying; like it always was watching a trusted adult break down a little.

He always hated it when May cried, but she did cry— after a bad shift, or a sad movie, or one of those pet commercials on television, Peter always heard the tell-tale sniffle at his side, and the way she always would look up as if it would stop the tears. (It never did.)

But that was May, and Tony was not May. This just was different. Tony Stark didn't cry. Tony Stark was Iron Man, he was invincible, surely he wouldn't shed a tear just because some stranger grabbed his wrist a bit too tight.

Peter frowned. "Mr—"

Tony let go of his arm, then turned the key into the engine. He sniffed once, and didn't look back at Peter. "FRIDAY, I want all those articles and photos deleted as soon as they hit the web. Kid, seatbelt on."

"Yes, sir."

The car went silent, except for the anxious drumming of Tony's hands against the steering wheel. After a few long moments, even that had subsided. Tony seemed calm enough now that Peter's curiosity sparked up again.

"You looked at them," Peter spoke up. He looked at Tony through the corner of his eye. "You, uh... talked back to them too. Kinda broke your own rules."

"Yeah." Tony shrugged. "Well, rules kind of mean jack to me if I think you're in danger. Part of the job."

"The job?"

"Taking care of you. Making sure you're safe, protected, happy, healthy, learned, and whatever," Tony said, one hand coming off the wheel to make aimless gestures as he spoke. "You know, the job."

Peter's definitely heard of all of those responsibilities. The thing is, he heard them in some health class lesson, listed as the job description for a parent.

"The job," Peter repeated quietly.

Tony shrugged again. He turned at an intersection. "Yeah. Whatever, I read mentoring books. I'm a good student."

"Right."

"You sure you're okay?" Tony asked again, glancing over, giving him a quick scan. "Adrenaline should be worn off by now, huh? Still nothing hurts?"

"No," Peter said, feeling like he was in some kind of accidental-pseudo-father-acquisition daze. He blinked a few times at the sudden alarm in Tony's expression. "I mean—No, nothing hurts. I'm all good."

The relief again, palpable in the air as Tony relaxed in his seat. He nodded quickly and finally turned onto the Queensborough bridge. "Good. That's good. Alright. Great. This was fun, kid, huh? You had fun?"

"Yeah, definitely," Peter agreed easily. He let himself smile. He felt light. "It was a lot of fun."

"Good," Tony returned his smile. "Let's get you home to Aunt May, then."

"Yeah," Peter sat back in his seat. He turned the radio on and smiled comfortably. "Okay."

#irondad fanfiction #irondad and spiderson #irondad #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker and tony stark #tumblr fanfic #tumblr fanfiction #fluff

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kinardsevan · 7 months ago

Text

so I'm a little obsessed with this song right now:

and I was having a hell of a time considering I struggle to write anything related to breaking up our bb's. BUT.

Hear me out. SalTommy/BuckAli. Sometime post s2. Buck and Tommy meet in a bar. Tommy has just finished his flight training and is in the process of transferring to Harbor. He and Sal have had this thing going on for a few years now, but Sal has always had his whole thing of "if the right girl comes along, I'm out". And for a while he's been with this girl, noncommittal (or so he told Tommy), but he's asked her to marry him and he's in line to get promoted to captain, and even though Tommy had this idea that they would find a way to make it work, it's definitely not happening now. His new coworkers are telling him to just get back out there (they know whoever Tommy was dating burned him but he never told them who it was).

Evan is in between surgeries, still not able to start rehabbing to go back to work. Initially, he was still staying in contact with Eddie and all, but since he can't be at work and hearing about it just depresses him, he's mostly only hanging out with Maddie (and occasionally Chimney by relation).

Long story short, Tommy's had a blow-off fight with Sal after Sal tells him that he's proposed to his girlfriend, and Ali has told Evan for good that she wants out. They both end up at a mostly empty bar on a random weeknight drinking alcohol to drown their sorrows. Tommy sorta knows who Evan is because of the news, but that's it. They start talking, start recognizing something in one another and always being the ones who get left behind.

Drunk sex happens at the loft. Tommy gets up to leave because he's used to that with Sal, but Evan does something to twinge his leg, and Tommy can't leave him that way. And somehow the guy who always has to leave and the one who's used to being left behind end up in this situation where Tommy stays. And they write it off as casual sex even though they actually like hanging out. They won't call it a relationship because they're both scared of losing each other. But Tommy shows up for Evan's last surgery, starts making him hang out with his friends more, gets called out by Chimney for the two clearly being in a relationship even though they won't call it that. Dance dangerously close to calling it love.

Tommy gets an invite to Sal's wedding around the time Evan gets his recert. The embolism happens, and Tommy's pissed first because Sal sent him the invite, but then that Evan was so reckless with his own life that he'd put his job before his life (this is where we get I love you, I'm not leaving). Tommy backs his decision to fight against Bobby's decision to keep him from returning to active duty.

And then...idk. Maybe he still sues the city. Maybe Tommy talks him into transferring to Harbor. Somewhere in there, Sal turns up to try and make up with Tommy, apologize for the way he ended things, but he runs into Evan instead, who really isn't cool with how he hurt Tommy. Ali gets the same treatment when she hears through the grapevine that Evan can't go back to active duty.

...that's all I got.

#bucktommy #fic fodder #saltommy #buckali #expectations #finmar #Spotify

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wexhappyxfew · 9 months ago

Note

Oooh, those prompts sure do look amazing… the touch one??? I’m so unsure on which one I might be in a crisis….

Soo… after muuuch deliberation, may ask about nr. 17 (holding the other’s chin up) with my girl Carrie? (I have to stay loyal to her, though I love all the other Silver Bullets girls equally)

Thank you 💖

- Carrie anon

carrie anon my apologies for how incredibly late this is (along with the other prompts sitting in the askbox lol) finals season will forever be a struggle lmao. BUT! i'm taking a mental break and here we are with a piece for my beans, carrie x dougie, carrie anon!! :D VERY excited to post this, we get a bit more with carrie's feelings as she's pretty good at hiding them (but not great with hiding them lol). so please enjoy!!

bergie doesn't strike out

(a/n): for the carrie x dougie girlies because this prompt i enjoyed and i figured i'd add some more to carrie's background - a struggle to fit in, to feel wanted, in a time of war. yeah, she's going through it to say the least and in some way, we all can get why :'( please enjoy!

Carrie watched from behind her shot glass as James Douglass waltzed over to the congregating group of Clubmobile girls and talked his talk, pulling out his lighter and offering to light up cigarettes, only before making quite the show of winking and meandering away back towards where he had been previously stood with Hambone and Murphy. She watched him let out a barking laugh before pointing to their cups and nodding to the bar. And that's when he started waltzing over to the bar, where she was stood, rather enjoying her stare-down with her shot glass instead of having to focus on him.

"Carrie Achterbeg, haven't seen you in a minute." she heard him say as he approached - which albeit was the truth. She hadn't come out to one of these in a couple of weeks. After that awkward misunderstanding with one of the guys from the 418th - radio operator, kind eyes, but horrible ego - after he had tried to plant one on her, she didn't want anything to do with the flying club, drinks and pilots. Tonight though was different. And after those last few missions, she needed some sort of melancholy distraction, even if it were a shot or two stood alone at the bar.

"Aren't you a sight for sore ey-" Carrie glanced over at James Douglass and shoved him in the shoulder roughly before throwing back her shot and sighing.

"Don't finish that sentence." she managed out, coughing briefly and then looked at him.

"Dually noted." Dougie said, before leaning up on the bar next to her and watching the side of her face, "What's eating you?" Carrie let out a dry laugh and looked over at him.

"I should be asking you the same thing," she said, before lowering your voice, "struck out, huh?" Dougie raised a brow in her direction and she nodded over his shoulder.

"Tatty, Helen, Virginia…." Carrie said, "Christ, Dougie, you struck out and you struck out hard." Dougie rolled his eyes and leaned more against the bar and nodded to the tender.

"Struck out is a strong word to use in that sense-"

"Sure as hell is currently the right word-"

"There's other words-"

"Struck out is as good as it comes." Carrie said to him and he took the beer from the tender and sighed, before taking a long sip. She watched him for a moment, biting the inside of her lip and then glanced back at her empty shot glass.

She was just punchy, she wasn't in the best of moods, and James Douglass was beginning to grow on her in ways she hadn't expected nor entirely wanted. And her mind was trying to ignore it.

"Why haven't you been coming recently?" Dougie asked her as he casually sipped on his beer, eyes wandering out to the dance floor and then back to her, before grinning wide, "Hambone's been missing ya." Carrie sighed and then stood up straighter and pushed her hair behind her ears and glanced at him.

"Personal choice." she said and then shrugged as she looked out towards the dance floor again, "You missing me, too? You seemed real tangled up with those guys over there. Surprised you came over to say hello." She raised a brow at him and he shrugged her off. Watching him, she then turned, only to be stopped by his arm jutting out.

"Where you going?"

"Just taking a lap around," she said with a shrug, "talk to some people I haven't seen before, ya know, get eyes on everyone." He watched her, a mixture of adornment it seemed and surprise, as she straightened her jacket and then looked at him.

"Everything look good?" she asked him, holding out her arms like she was about to go off on her first day at school and wanted her uniform in check. Dougie held her gaze for a moment before he let his eyes wash down her form and then back up to her face again. Carrie watched him, her collar turning hot as he took a slow sip and let his eyes rest on hers again, that lazy smile growing on his face as he nodded.

"Good is a strong word-"

"Dougie, don't you dare." Carrie muttered, a small smile growing on her face as she shoved at his shoulder, and repositioned herself, hands on her hips and sighed, "Seriously." For a moment, they just watched each other and it should've felt awkward, but in all actuality - it wasn't. And knowing that he was looking at her that fondly almost made her want to stay and talk to him more. But she wasn't like that it seemed.

"You look great," Dougie said, his voice strained as he nodded, "don't let none of those fools do anything funny, alright?" Now, it was Carrie's turn to let out a laugh and raise her brow.

"Since when did you care?" she asked quickly, crossing her arms, "'Cause three weeks ago, I had that stupid radio operator from the 418th practically down my throat and you barely batted an eye." A few onlookers glanced towards the two and it took Carrie a few moments to recognize how loud she had gotten and suddenly emotional in her words. And why did she care if Dougie had barely batted an eye? He shouldn't have needed to. They weren't technically even friends, just a joke or two here and there, some teasing and good-natured tomfoolery, but nothing more. Why did she care that he should care? Carrie sighed. Dougie looked up at her with those big, slightly worried eyes and bit back his lip before nodding.

"Well, now that you've made me aware of that, maybe I will bat an eye next time." Dougie said, looking up at her as his fingers danced against the cool mug of beer, "Who the hell was it?" Carrie stared at him and then blinked slowly.

"It doesn't matter-"

"That's why you didn't come-"

"Dougie-"

"Because he had-"

"Dougie." Carrie said, stepping closer to him, and holding his gaze right in her own, her hand ghosting over his arm as if to latch onto him, but failing to do so, "Let it go. It's over now."

"You brought it up." Dougie said back quickly, but she stopped him with a shake of the head. But then she stood quiet for a moment and let her thoughts grow. She had brought it up. Almost as if she had wanted him to know. Because no one had known. Because she'd been embarrassed that she let herself think that maybe that was a good guy, someone she could live a life with and all he had wanted was a kiss. It was a stupid thought.

"Who was it, Carrie, seriously?" Dougie asked her as she balled up her fists and looked anywhere but his face, which she knew had a look on it that would make her lose it, "A guy from the 418th, huh? He ever heard about a thing called messing with the bull, you damn well be getting the horns-"

"Shh, keep your voice down!" Carrie muttered, bringing a finger in front of her mouth and looking at him with wide eyes, "He was just some jackass that thought I was there to have a good time and that was it." Dougie grew quiet as he watched her. Whatever it was between them seemed to simmer and they both seemed to understand in that minute what she meant. But she wouldn't dare actually say why she had even bothered kissing the guy, or why Dougie was looking at her like that.

"He didn't do anything to you, did he?" Dougie said, his voice softer than it normally was, that look in his eye deeper and darker, "I know a guy-"

"No." Carrie said, her cheeks scarlet, "It was just a stupid kiss, that's it. It's over. I just….I was trying to avoid the situation again and…." She trailed off. She was over talking about it to be completely honest. She looked up at him.

"I'm fine." she said with an honest nod, "Thank you for your…..concern." Dougie watched her, with a slow nod and licked his lips, like he was still digesting her words in their entirety. He didn't say much, he just watched her and she didn't entirely want to complain about that because for one, his eyes were some of the kindness she'd probably seen on this side of the world. And for once, they were eyes that looked at her in a way other guys didn't.

"Just…go have some fun," Dougie said quietly, "give me a look if a guy does something stupid, alright?" And she nodded and looked up at him, as he smiled softly at her, his eyes darting over her own endless blue ones, an abyss of dampened sea and darkened souls. Lost and harrowing. He leaned forward a bit and lowered his voice.

"Don't strike out." he said with a small chuckle and she looked up at him and brought her pointer finger underneath his chin and prodded him lightly to meet her gaze, before whispering back just as quietly.

"Bergie doesn't strike out."

#masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #carrie achterberg #james douglass #carrie x dougie #THEMMMMM #when you can tell they both want to say things to each other but they can't bc they've never crossed that line before #dougie saying she looks great and willing to defend her like bro i WILL just go cry in a corner fr #THEM #i will forever fangirl over these two bc they are absolutely INSANEEE #me yelling from the corner 'just say you like each other and get it over with !!!!'#this is earlier days of them knowing each other but the chemistry is all the same #please enjoy!

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sorcerous-caress · 1 year ago

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Hell yeah I'm back, crushed my exams, now I have more time to think about everyone's favorite loser elf 💜💜

Your post a couple days back about posting homemade porn to the xhuman forum really got me thinking

What if one day you showed up at your loser elf's house in traditional elvish clothing?

You shrug and casually mention that you bought it at a market the other day because it reminded you of him, but he's only barely registering your words.

His eyes rake over your body from head to toe and then back up again, staring unashamed at how the light, airy fabric dances around your arms and legs. He can't stop staring at how perfectly the garment hugs your body, and since humans are more supple and rounded than elves, the fabric bunches up just so on your hips, accentuating your curves and making heat rise to his face, the tips of his ears going red as you notice the visible tent in his pants.

You smile devilishly at him as you lead him towards his bed, all the while he's thinking about how the organic fabrics you're wearing would be very delicate and so easy to tear through.

You're fully aware of what seeing you in his traditional clothing would do to him, so of course you prepared accordingly. He's in for a lucky surprise when he finally gets your overclothes off to find that you picked up some elvish-inspired lingerie at the market as well.

(somewhat inspired by my realization while dressing up to go to an Indian holiday party, when I noticed that a salwar kameez and dupatta kinda reminded me of what I'd imagine elvish clothing to look like)

Good job on finishing your exams, please make sure to rest.

I really like the idea of human reader trying to learn more about elf culture for their cute loser high elf

And yes, I imagine elvish clothes to be inspired by South Asian, Middle Eastern, and anciest Greek clothes.

Instead of reader buying it randomly, what if you've put research into it? Read about elf culture and found the perfect attire to wear.

Maybe it's something only newly wedded spouces wear for each other, or maybe it is a honeymoon phase kind of outfit. Elvish clothes are airy by nature, but this one you've found is more head-turning than the rest.

Almost like it was made out of large flower petals that hug your body just right with their vibrant colours. Wrapping your hips with two petals that conjoin in the middle, their pointy tips barely covering the insides of your thighs. Each petal trailing up your body and leaving small windows of bare flesh, the outfit is on the shorter side with no shoulders or neck, just going from your hips to your chest in a colourful chain of petals.

Or maybe a translucent outfit that shimmers and brims with life magic, a dark hue that matches the night sky. Various stars in shapes and sizes swimming on the print and gently swaying from place to place with every step you take. Your skin and curves are extremely visible underneath it. It's made out of one large and very long cloth that you have to wrap around yourself to from multiple layers and give it a shape. The material is so thin that the outfit never gets thicker than human clothes no matter how many you layer.

Or it's a long pure white silk with gold leaves trim, much like an outfit a greek god would wear. The silk is akin to a second skin as even the shape of your bare stomach is visible from underneath it. There's an almost invisible pattern wooven into the silk with the occasional glimmering sparks.

Whichever it was, one thing was clear when your outfit finally arrived. It's that this was never made for a human like body.

It's your size but longer than usual, it's too tight in certain places. You can't even wear anything underneath it because it wouldn't fit then. The shape of your chest is fully on display, the way the supposed airy outfit completely hugs your figure like a glove.

Your hips and thighs being squeezed so deliciously by the fabric. The material feeling almost strange on top of a human's soft skin, elves generally have tighter skin that's not as sensitive as the humans.

How each outfit is made out of various pieces and parts you have to put together to complete the picture. Unlike humanity's preference for compact clothes that are easy to wear or come as whole pieces, elves prefer complexity and a single shirt can have up to 13 steps to put on.

There aren't any buttons or seams or zippers. It's whole pieces that are held together by either magic or jewellery. Everything from the top of your head to your ankles has a specific piece that is important to complete the outfit.

It takes a lot of effort and after so many different youtube tutorials, mostly in elvish which you couldn't understand and had to relay on visuals only, you get the hand of it.

Since it was a surprise, you decline his offer to pick you up when you send him a message saying you're coming over. Walking through the street and getting curious and confused looks from other humans on your outfit.

You passed by a couple of elves that did a doube take when they saw you, blatantly staring at your short ears then your clothes. They looked like they wanted to say something to you, one of them even walked up to you and opened their mouth.

But nothing came out, they just turned around and went back to their friend. Completely red in the face as they kept stealing glances at you while whispering in elvish to each other.

After finally making it and opening the front door with the spare key he gave you, you step inside.

Expecting you, he calls out your name with clear excitement in his voice before clearing his throat and trying to attempting to mask his excitement as he makes his way to you.

The second his eyes register what you're wearing, his mind short circuits. His eyes have to blink a couple of times as if it's a trick of the light or an illusion, complete disbelief at the fact you're actually real and standing in his doorway in these clothes.

Just like the elves from before, his mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Then he's immediately picking you up and pinning you to the door. Lips hungrily kissing yours as desperate whimpers escape him.

It's his feelings are too much for his body to handle, his hands keep switching form place to place as he can't decide where to touch you first, where to feel and grope you.

His fingers are shaking, his eyes still looking at you with disbelief as his lips refuse to let up, as if he'll run out of air without the taste of your mouth.

You feel his hardness against you. He barely pays it any attention as he continues to admire your body. Marvelling at the way the clothes cling to your skin, at the various jewellery and elven designs, on you, a human.

If only a man can die from happiness, then he'll die happily knowing your current image was the last thing he has seen.

Do you even understand the effect of your outfit on him, little human? Do you even know what it represents? For all you know, you could've been walking outside with the equivalent of elven lingerie or a nightie.

He's calling you various endearing names in his original tongue, from endearing titles to ones exclusive to married souls. He seems in a haze as he urges you towards the bedroom, eyes pleading and knees weak as he struggles to switch betwern kissing you and pulling away to talk.

#♡human kink #♡human reader #♡modern loser high elf #♡modern au human kink #dnd human kink #♡elf culture #♡smut

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somefishycat · 4 months ago

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WIP Wednesday 10/16/24 (with a few bonus sentences from 10/9/24's backlog!)

marble wall 2 for @loyal-house-of-lupin @kallisto-k @quietly-sleeping @violet-prism-creatively @adhdavinci

@creative-girl

Each of them orders something different, and they all share so everyone can try different things. And they each get an eye scream, of course. They don't have eyes in them, though. Now that he thinks about it, Gus didn't see any eyes in this whole store… Well. Everyone eats except Hunter. That's nothing new, but then he so casually mentions that he'd never actually had eye scream. It makes Gus sad again. Luz starts to say something, but quickly shuts up when her mom approaches. She silently hands her the remaining half of her giant soft pretzel. “Ready?” Camila asks, finishing the snack. “The next bus should be here soon.” The stuff in the basket is now in plah-stick bags, so they can each carry some in addition to their bags of clothes. It's a lot. Gus kind of gets, now, why Camila insisted on only the most essential items for today. They feed the transport demon some more snails and Camila tells its trainer where to take them. And then they go back home. At least as close as they can get to home, now.

marble wall 3 for @asha10100101010 @wizisbored @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin @twyrewolf @tamsinswriting (x2)

@sourb0i

Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be too late. This is something that Hunter should probably say now. “Great,” he says instead. “Looking forward to that.” Oh well. He's sure the rest of them can choose something nice without him there. Willow… Willow has to be good at that, right? “And… what do we say?” Vee asks. “I think we're supposed to talk about what a great person you were? Is that how this works? I've never actually… been to a funeral before.” And she probably wouldn't have much good to say about him. She barely knows him, except as the Golden Guard. That's fine. He thinks he'd rather not hear everyone talk about him like that anyway. It's weird, and wouldn't feel as genuine, probably. “I'd rather you not, I think. Not while I can hear it? I'm right here. Don't talk about me like I'm not right here.”

ones left behind for @whimsicalmeerkat @kalira (x2) @zyrafowe-sny @aparticularbandit (x2) @enigma-the-mysterious

“As touching as your concern is,” he says, refusing to be intimidated by Raine Whispers, “I assure you, I have thought this through. I want to find them as much as you do. And we need to know what happened to Belos. We don't have a convenient spirit to question anymore.” He doesn't explain, doesn't need to explain, why he didn't do so when he had the chance. He probably wouldn't have gotten a coherent answer without an Oracle witch assisting. (Admittedly, he didn't really try that hard, either. Perhaps Steve would have been enough?) “If you're sure. And if Eber agrees.” Darius is fairly sure Eber has been listening in for a while. If they had any objections, they'd have interrupted by now. A furry orange head pokes through the doorway. Eberwolf grins. Excellent. Whatever they find out there, they'll be ready.

@1attheedge @eriquin @auburnlaughter (x2) @stonemaskedtaliesin @post-and-out (x2)

@asha10100101010

Talking isn't really Eberwolf’s thing. Nor is drinking poisoned apple blood. Listening to the other two dumbasses make fools of themselves, though? Of course he's doing that. He plays with Darius's scroll, too. The man left it unlocked when he tossed it aside, a choice Eber intends to make him regret. He's just finished changing the background to a rather lovely picture of Odalia Blight when the scroll dings. Someone is messaging Darius? Interesting. Eber reads the message, of course. If Darius wanted them to stay out of his conversations, he shouldn't have left his scroll open. It's not from Alador Blight, unfortunately. That would have been fun. Instead it's that Porter guy on the crystal? I know we haven't spoken in a long time, the message reads, but I noticed your crystal ball is disconnected. I'm sorry. Eber doesn't reply. Darius probably wouldn't. Here's a summary of today's report. I heard you were working with Eda; you might find some of it relevant. Any information you may have regarding the whereabouts of my son would be greatly appreciated. Thank you. Eber waits a few more minutes, but that's it. They reply, :(, and then open the attached page. There's some stuff about Eda. That she's still out there, they knew that. A retraction of the report from a week ago accusing her of murdering the kid, that's new. And some other things Eberwolf doesn't really care about. You're not Darius.

#wip wednesday #golden ghost au #ooops looks like olb is gonna be a multichapter now too #ooh. how about 3. one for each of them.#also eber is so fun to write why haven't i done this before

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cheesy09 · 1 year ago

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[CN] Kiro's 6th Anniversary Event Story - Final Part (1)

🌸 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for content that hasn't been released on the EN server yet! 🌸

Originally, I hadn't planned on translating this event, but I'm making an exception for this part because it was just TOO CUTE!!! 😭💕

For context, this year's anniversary event is all about travelling to various spots in Loveland with your love and taking part in various couple activities. You can read the prologue here.

The following is the event's final plot for Kiro and MC.

Even though it is winter, due to the unique conditions of Clear-Spring Mountain, flowers still continue to bloom all over the mountains and plains.

Opening the convertible of the retro sports car, we drive towards the mountains, all the while enjoying the beautiful scenery.

I have made a reservation in advance at the Honey Farm located in a sea of flowers in the mountains. Many blogger couples have commented that the activities at this place are very sweet.

Kiro: The first step is to beat the eggs... separate the egg whites... then add the sugar... granulated sugar? lumps of sugar?

Seeing Kiro casually talk while driving, I smile and gently squeeze his shoulder.

MC: Pfft, if the baking teacher comes to know that there are students who have prepped in advance, they'll be very touched.

Kiro: Don't make fun of me. If the summer island kitchen bombing incident happens again, I really will go into a tree hole on the farm.

MC: Don't worry, with me here, our cake will only succeed, not fail.

MC: After all, we both want to draw a perfect end to our journey here~

Seems like my comfort is somewhat effective. Kiro smiles and squeezes my palm, then slightly speeds up the accelerator.

Kiro: Then I'll also study hard. So that when you want to eat cake in the future, I can make it for you with my own hands.

Teacher: Welcome both of you, to our sweet couple activities...

Teacher: ...We first need to beat the egg mixture with sugar into a thick, fluffy foam. Next...

After the teacher explains the steps to make the cake, it is our turn to practice them.

Kiro: Come, let me try it.

Kiro takes the egg beater from my hand and beats it carefully. Seeing the egg liquid beginning to turn white, I quickly speak in affirmation.

MC: That's right - stop!

Before I can finish speaking, I see him dig out a big spoonful of sugar and pouring it into the container. I quickly hold down his arm.

MC: Sugar was added before, no need to add more!

Kiro: Is it enough? But the amount that was added before seemed so small. Will it be sweet enough?

That extremely serious gaze makes me clearly realize at this moment why this person is known as a "kitchen killer".

Recipe books and instructional videos tell us the most accurate steps, sometimes even down to the grams.

But for a "feeler" like Kiro, instead of telling him what is right, it is better to let him adjust step by step based on his own feelings.

So, I gently let go of my hand.

MC: Hmm... Actually, I'm not sure if the previous proportion is the sweetness we prefer.

MC: So just follow your own ideas. If it's too sweet, we can just add less sugar next time~

Kiro: Mm, I think so too. We still gotta make a cake that suits us best.

He grows slightly excited and digs out two more spoons of sugar and adds them in. Seeing the sugar bag almost bottoming out, I can't help but "comfort" myself in my heart.

As long as Kiro is happy.

Then, he continues completing the honey cake embryos one after another under my "guidance" and then puts them in the oven.

Kiro: 160°, 40 minutes, done!

Once we are done, the staff takes us to a glass greenhouse to wait.

I look at the "sweet space" before me that is temporarily exclusive to us--

Lush branches, leaves and flowers sway in the wind, surrounding the entire area with spring, accompanied with bursts of fragrance.

There is a coffee table and sofa in the center of the greenhouse, and the bookshelf on the side lists various board games, providing a variety of entertainment options.

Kiro: "What do you and your significant other have in common?"

I follow the sound and turn around, finding Kiro standing in front of a wall, seemingly looking at something.

MC: What is that?

Kiro: Hmm... Two questions were asked above. It seems to be a small game to enhance feelings.

I walk over quickly and whisper another question.

MC: "What are the differences between you and your significant other?"

I pause and subconsciously look at Kiro, only to find him already gazing at me with a smile.

Kiro: Though the question seems to be simple... I'm still curious about Miss Chips' answer.

MC: That's quite the coincidence. I'm also curious about your answer.

We tacitly smile at each other, pick up the pen and paper on the table and sit down.

MC: So let's each write our own and then exchange them?

He responds with a smile and starts to write. I also unfold the white paper and think about the similarities between us.

The afternoon sun fills the table with warmth, and for a while, it becomes so quiet that I am only able to hear the scratching of the tips of our pens across the paper.

After a while, I stop writing, and the chair next to me makes a slight scraping sound.

MC: Seems like we've written everything. Let's start from the first question.

Kiro: Okay, I'll go first!

Kiro: You and I have a lot in common, the most similar thing being that we are each other's favorite people.

MC: --Pfft! Your answer is also the first common thing I wrote down~

Seeing me poking at my letter paper, Kiro's eyes show a satisfied smile.

Kiro: As expected of us.

Kiro: My next answer is that we are also the people who make each other the happiest.

MC: No matter how late the other person is working over time, we will always leave a light on in the living room.

Kiro: We both love small animals, but Cello and Apple Box are always first in our hearts.

MC: We always have a strong sense of curiosity, and any of our adventurous ideas can be achieved invariably.

The sun moves slowly, and those words spoken out finally turn into brighter smiles on our faces.

After answering the first question, I lower my eyes and look at my letter paper.

MC: Actually, we have a lot of differences, but they all seem to complement each other.

MC: Since you're a master gamer, no complex level is difficult enough to beat you.

MC: Without you there to teach me, I would have been forever stuck in one place, unable to enjoy the total fun.

I look at the person in front of me as if the past has arrived with its answer, embracing me like the bright sun.

Kiro: Then you are a master producer. No matter how complicated the set is, you can make it orderly.

MC: You always know what you want most and you never compromise.

Kiro: My Miss Chips is also very strong. Nothing can "defeat" you.

We look into each other's eyes and say those extremely sincere words.

Then, my eyes stop at the last line of the letter and I fold it with a smile.

MC: Although we have many similarities and differences, there is one thing that I'm very sure of.

MC: You have always been braver than me, and kinder than me.

MC: You always allow me to see the brightest and gentlest side of the world.

MC: Therefore, I can feel very clearly that every day, every minute and every second of these six years--

MC: Being with you has been such a fortunate and happy thing. I think the best thing that has ever happened to me in my life--

MC: Has been meeting you.

I quietly look at the person in front of me, the one who loves me the most, hoping that my sincerity can be conveyed to him a thousand times more through words.

Kiro: [inhaling a shaky breath and exhaling softly] .....

The sunlight outside the window seems to freeze in this moment, quietly falling into Kiro's blue eyes.

He stands up, walks over to me, squats down, encloses his palms on the back of my hands and smiles brightly.

Kiro: When you say that, I can't help but wonder how good I must seem in your eyes... to be worthy of your description.

MC: Then you can use all kinds of exaggerated imagination, because nothing can be as good as you are.

MC: The ordinary sunshine, and those flowers and sceneries all shine after you appear.

MC: You make me feel that this world is wonderful because you are in it.

I lower my head and gently hold his palm.

MC: So, even if this journey ends, can you continue to hold my hand like this every day from now on...?

MC: Walk with me through everything in the world, and never let go.

MC: Okay?

Before he can say anything, a "ding" sound comes from the door, which seems to indicate that the cake has been baked.

Footsteps come from outside, but right at that moment, Kiro picks me up by the waist and hides us among the lush green branches and leaves that were behind us.

The next second, he gently kisses me.

The green leaves covering the top of our heads sway gently in the wind, dancing with shadowy golden light spots.

Teacher: Guests, the cake you baked - hey, where have they gone?

The sound coming from the door has long since turned blurry. What is clear to me is his soft breathing.

For some reason, I keep feeling like I have tasted the sweetest bite even before eating the cake.

He seems to think so too as the honey-eating bear in front of me has already raised the corners of his lips.

Kiro: Before I answer your question, I don't want anyone interrupting us.

He presses close to my lips, his azure eyes more dazzling than anything else.

Kiro: But I have just told you with practical actions.

Kiro: No matter how many years pass, no matter how many sceneries and how much of happiness you will pass by with me in the future.

Kiro: The sweetest one will always be the one I give to you.

Kiro: So, look forward to it.

Part 2: Coming soon

#THIS IS LITERALLY THE BEST CONFESSION SHE'S EVER GIVEN HIM #those were words I've always thought of when it came to kiro #but for her to actually say them out loud to him made me so so happy 😭💕#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro

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steve0discusses · 1 year ago

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S5 Ep : I don't know the episode numbers anymore I never wrote them down, so from here on out, I'm just going to number up from my previous post. So I guess episode 49

Fun fact I finished this post a week ago and then never pressed send. I can blame this on a lot of things, (work, illness, brain fog, etc) but at this point we just know it's the universe trying to keep me from finishing S5 of my Yugioh reblog, lmao.

So, last we left off, Sad Seto was next to die.

What makes this extra weird is that the other Seto is going to just watch this entire thing happen. He apparently didn't have enough traumatic disassociating while watching his Blue Eyes Wife die, now he will disassociate from watching himself go out in a blaze of glory, too.

Sad Seto's strategy against Zorc is not really what you'd expect out of the #2 of Egypt's court. Although...I guess before everyone biffed it, Seto was more like #5? #6?

He's above Mana I feel. Barely. Mostly because Mana probably isn't the right age to legally work, even in ancient Egypt when the working age is like...if you can walk.

But he was apparently so busy doing Aknadin's taxes that he's decided it's good judgement to throw himself at a 800 ft tall dragon/crotch/man.

for his credit, Sun Tzu's art of war hasn't been written yet.

And Sad Seto realizes his true purpose, which is that he has a smarter, stronger, and more powerful girlfriend (ish.) Which is a running theme on this show, as we all know.

In a bizarre cut that I can't believe they left on US TV...other than I think they couldn't cut this any other way, the penis dragon attached to Zork extended it's neck up to grab Blue eyes by her neck and just fling her into the ground, killing her instantly.

I don't like that the neck can extend longer. I don't like that it's a function of the dragon crotch. They knew. They knew what this looked like. Thanks, I hate it.

Also what an embarrassing way for Seto's past self to die. Truly the hieroglyphs about this event will be wild, and thousands of years later, Grandma Muto probably looked at this event etched into stone and just thought it was weird ancient pervert stuff.

Sorry if you were thinking Sad Seto would recover last minute and realize he's like the most OP person in Yugioh. He instead rotted from his hand and joined the rest of our Egyptian cast in Shadow Hell.

Leaving us with just Mana. And like kudos to her, but how on EARTH did she survive so freakin long!? Like of all of them, I thought Seto would be the last one. Not Mana. Not in a million years did I think it'd be the girl who hid in a pot.

But youknow maybe that's why she survived?

And then Bakura casually walked away from the only Seto who matters. Which is fitting, because if memory serves, that's also what Yami did to Seto for like half of the Battle City tourney.

It's such a weird strange bod on this dragon. It's such a strange bod. He's both got kind of a belly, but also is ripped to shreds. Such a weird bod.

In case you were like "We haven't given Seto enough motivation," we also toss in a few nearly dead brothers just to make sure we have properly traumatized this boy to the point where he'd duel someone who isn't Yugi Muto.

Seto decided magic exists 6 minutes ago, and he's already better at magic than Yugi Muto who's had access to it for YEARS.

Like he learned about magic in a different culture, a different time, a different language, and now he's fighting the final boss.

But it's Seto, so I buy it. He would speedrun his life like this.

That's the dialogue of the show where he says his first words were "neutron blast attack" and youknow...he probably has very few memories of himself as a child since his parents died and his other family put him up for adoption...but he knows his first words?

That, or Seto likes making his brand a reality by making up whatever nonsense it takes to make that brand legit. Which I can also see him doing.

Also please don't look at this foreshortened hand, don't look at it, ignore that this happened.

So thanks to Bakura's weird choice to drag Seto into this universe in the first place, now Bakura has to fight Seto and his 3 blue eyes that would not have existed here otherwise.

++++++ME RANTING ABOUT THE SETO ARC FEEL FREE TO SKIP++++

TBH it kinda makes the whole Sad Seto arc feel kind of like it didn't need to exist. Like this is the Seto fight that matters. This one right here, and although they share a name, it's not with the same guy who fought Zorc at the beginning of this episode.

And like I could add it to a list of problems with this season. But Sad Seto started out so interesting, and then forgot. It was like he only existed to introduce the dragon, and not explain anything at all about the nature of Seto Kaiba we know and love. Like the possession of Aknadin can be a parallel to how Seto was raised following Gozaburo's footsteps, but youknow...that's all old territory.

Like, I wish I had any sort of new growth from the interaction of either of the Seto's together in the same room, much like we've been getting from Yami facing his past self. Yami's been growing a lot, he's been facing his demons, but Seto? Seto's been walking around this desert trying find wifi.

(which like he did find a "wifey" which is almost wifi but wasn't as helpful because she was dead)

The Seto Kaiba who is fighting Bakura right now, is the same exact guy we saw at the end of the last arc against Zeigfried Von Schroeder.

Which means the reason that Seto is now souped up and capable of going up against Bakura isn't because of anything we witnessed here in this arc, but because of the weird horse guy last arc who taught him how to put up a better firewall.

And maybe there was a draft where Seto decides he is a spiritual reincarnation of the Pharaoh of Egypt. Maybe there was a draft where he gained a new ability. Maybe there was a draft where he realized the gravity of what was happening and wanted to save the world.

But it ain't this draft, unfortunately.

Seto is here not because of an internal growth reason, but because he was on a tablet in S2, and we have to know where that plot thread went to have an ending...but the show rewrote what it initially said in S2.

Like in the OG timeline, it was Seto who killed Pharaoh. But here we found out it was actually Aknadin who possessed Seto to kill Pharaoh. (and at some point in that fight, Pharaoh stuck his soul in a box and sealed away Zorc)

Sad Seto was apparently a chill bro the entire time. Just a nice guy who arrested half of Cairo and had a sort-of-girlfriend for about 8 hours before she biffed it.

And I would have been OK with that, if it were more interesting than what we initially thought happened in the past: where we thought it was a kickass Seto launching a coup. But unfortunately, it's not, instead it's a boy who started out powerless, and continued to be powerless despite working in Pharaoh's literal court. He didn't even have the power to not get possessed.

And I am sure there were other drafts, and endings are hard, and the author did get hella hospitalized while he wrote this season, animation is a miracle of many moving parts and budgets, and we were lucky to even get an ending to this show. So I don't want to sound like I'm complaining when there are so many worse directions this show could have gone. I'm just a little surprised it went this direction, mostly.

But say what you will about Yugioh, it doesn't like to be predictable, doesn't it?

+++++++++++++++++++OK I'M DONE++++++++++++++++++++++

Speaking of characters who haven't gained anything from being here, Tristan is no longer possessed!

Tristan begs his apologies and Yugi takes it gracefully. Which means, it's time for the main character of this entire show to finally re-enter the plot.

And they do so, in style.

Y'all I remember being excited about the look and style of extreme sports, but I do not remember this many heelies in the 00's.

Anyway, this is the link to read these in chrono order, you know the drill. See you next time to see yet another girlfriend biff it!

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#yugioh #yugi muto #seto kaiba #bakura #yu gi oh #photo recap #S5 #YGO #theif king bakura #Tristan taylor #zorc necrophades

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space-cat-in-a-teacup · 1 year ago

Note

character ask: lucy, poe, and fitzgerald

Oooh Guild characters, don't mind if I do

Lucy first!

First impression

Anne of Green Gables author! I understand this reference!

Impression now

Best girl, she's just trying to live her life post-Guild arc and exist as best she can. I'm so glad she continues to have a presence in the narrative, and I want to see more of her!

Favorite moment

Guild arc, Moby Dick, Atsushi's prison cell. She bears her scars to Atsushi to show exactly why she hates him (and considering all the other members of the Guild, she's probably used to people who don't understand her pain, who have more to their lives than she could ever dream of) only for Atsushi to reveal he has scars just like hers, that they share this pain that no one else does. And when Atsushi asks if the people on the ground deserve to suffer like she did. GOD.

But a close second is the moment where she drags Atsushi out of the cafe to give Kyouka some peace, explaining to Atsushi why he should give her that peace of mind. It's a cute moment, and I like that it shows Lucy has the deeper emotional understanding in this situation versus Atsushi.

Idea for a story

When I finish that one fic where she becomes a detective thanks to Poe moving to Canada it's over for all of you. And maybe a canon-compliant fic exploring her average every day life at the cafe, how she goes about and what she does with her time

Unpopular opinion

I do not see enough Lucy content to know what opinions of mine would be unpopular or not?

Favorite relationship

Atsulucy is my beloved for a reason... I love they. I would like to explore her dynamic with Kyouka more though, I think they're interesting.

Favorite headcanon

I don't have a specific headcanon, but thanks to some old OC named Lucy I do associate her with ladybugs a lot.

Now, Poe!

First impression

FUCK YEAH I LOVE THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO a shame that isn't his ability BUT HELL YEAH I KNOW POE THIS IS GREAT

Impression now

He's a silly goofy guy who's rivalry with Ranpo is really fun, and the continued use of his ability in present BSD storylines is really cool. As a fan of IRL Poe's writing style and stories, he's an absolute treat. Could use more Cask of Amontillado references though.

Favorite moment

His inroduction is iconic... but the moment where he casually reveals how incredibly wealthy he is and gets to be the one who shocks Ranpo instead of the other way around? Oh, oh that is wonderful.

Idea for a story

As I mentioned above with Lucy, the fic where he fucks off to Canada and accidentally brings her into the mystery business is one I treasure dearly, even if I don't know how to write it just yet. I also have an AU version of him that, while he doesn't have a story yet, is quite an intriguing premise.

Unpopular opinion

I don't have a specific one, but I do feel like the fandom tends to soften him a little bit, make him a little bit too shy and anxious.

Favorite relationship

Ranpoe is iconic, but to be fair it is like... the main one we see in canon. If we're talking about dynamics I'd like to explore with him, I think him getting dragged around by Kenji on a shopping trip or something could be fun (based on that one brief scene in the manga where Kenji tried to help him but couldn't understand him) or a scenario with him and Fukuzawa.

Favorite headcanon

He definitely has an ominous wine cellar in that giant mansion of his. You know why? Cause Cask of Amontillado is-

Now we move on to Fitzgerald himself... oh boy.

First impression

THE GREAT GATSBY???

Impression now

This entire character and the storylines surrounding him are such expertly weaved references to the Great Gatsby that while I don't like the character himself a lot, I do have a secondhand appreciation for him because I love that book.

Favorite moment

The moment he shows up in TJ Eckleburg's house and just casually explains how horrific of a death drinking lighter fluid is kinda funny to be honest?

Idea for a story

...Does that one time I had a Pokemon AU where he got eaten by Reshiram count?

Unpopular opinion

I don't see a lot of content about him so I can't say for sure what is and isn't unpopular?

Favorite relationship

Him with the Guild as an entity, not its individual members. Something really fucked up about how he calls them all his property and that's how he cares about them, not really having much care for their individual cares.

Favorite headcanon

The man is bad at fishing. He likes the idea of it vaguely in that 'white American dads fish' kinda way but he cannot actually fish he's bad at it. If you know you know.

#thank you so much! this was fun!#bsd lucy #bsd poe #bsd fitzgerald #bungou stray dogs #ask game

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thornwolfy235 · 3 months ago

Text

WIP 1 - Kissing

I'm going to post a bunch of WIPs in a row now. maybe with a little feedback I'll get the gumption to finish one of them.

A bit of info on them first. I wrote all of these in an effort to deal with an exceptionally bad break-up (might as well call it a divorce, we lived together for 6 years). A lot of these are "how it should've gone" type stuff. I was never able to decide if they should be a full chapter by chapter "novel" or just a bunch of oneshots within the same universe and make a collection of them in order or whatever. Maybe I'll drop them to Ao3 as well. They are all xfem!Readers with my blorbos Grillby and Gaster (though most have no anatomy mentioned, so you can safely read no matter what gender you are). I'd appreciate a glance through if nothing else.

This first one is early-ish in a relationship with Grillby with a Reader who is nervous about kissing. Mostly fluffy with very mild spice.

Mondays had become your regular time to hang out with Grillby. With his pub closed until Tuesday afternoon and you out of work early, it meant those nights could be just for the two of you. You’d only been together about for a month and had yet to go out on a date in public, but spending the evening cuddling on his couch and watching movies, playing board games, or just talking was plenty nice. The casualness of it all was nice, too. After how devastatingly your previous relationship had ended, keeping things simple and relaxed where you felt no pressure to try to impress was a relief. Seeing your beau out of his crisp attire and in what you’d consider street clothes was a perk as well, a reminder to you that he was still just a normal person like you, and as such was happy to be with a normal person like, well, you. The best part was that he’d remove his glasses so you could see his eyes unobscured by the reflections of his flames. With his dislike of people being able to see his eyes, you considered it a true privilege that he felt comfortable enough to let you in like that.

Tonight, though, there was definitely something on the elemental’s mind. He seemed more than a little distracted, and you’d caught him more than once watching you from the corner of his eye instead of whatever was on the television. You were nervous to ask what he was thinking about, however, for some reason afraid of what his response might be. It didn’t make sense for you to be afraid, of course – nothing he had ever said or done should have made you think he might hurt you or put you in a situation you weren’t comfortable with – yet you were.

You felt him looking at you again and glanced over to find Grillby’s half-lidded eyes were indeed on you, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “I-is something wrong?” you asked quietly.

He shook his head, pausing the movie and turning to you fully. “No, sweet spark. In fact, everything is wonderful,” he answered, his soft, airy voice brushing over you. He took your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I’m very happy to be with you. I love you.”

Your nervousness eased. It was hard to be scared when he touched and spoke to you so sweetly. “I love you, too,” you said, leaning in for a kiss. His constant, radiant warmth and almost-solidness always made kissing him nice, if a little ethereal, like kissing the softest blanket imaginable fresh from the dryer.

Grillby lifted a hand to cup your cheek, thumb lightly running over your skin. “I’d very much like to kiss you more,” he murmured. His smile turned mischievous when you tilted your head curiously. “As in ‘make out,’ spark,” he clarified with a little chuckle.

“O-oh…” You looked down at your hands, anxiety returning.

“Hey,” he said gently, amusement turning to concern in just one word. “You know I won’t force you to if you don’t want to, right?”

You sighed, tightening your grip on his fingers. “I know…it’s just…I don’t…I haven’t…” You groaned in frustration as the right words eluded you, turning away a little. “I don’t know where to start.”

His hand went from your cheek to your back, rubbing soft circles between your shoulders. “It’s okay. You can tell me as much or as little as you want to.”

You nodded. You wanted to curl up in his arms, hide against his chest and just pretend like nothing was wrong, but you knew he wouldn’t let you ignore whatever was upsetting you. Grillby had the annoying habit of wanting to help you through them. “It’s just…lingering baggage from my ex-fiancé. There’s a-a lot of it, you know?” The elemental’s orange flames dulled to a reddish hue and pulled in towards himself. Your stomach clenched. “I-I’m sorry, I never know what will set off memor–”

“Don’t apologize. I know you’re still working through it all. Will you tell me what happened?”

You chewed on your lower lip for a moment. “Well…I-I mean…maybe it was my fau–”

“Ahp! Don’t say that!” Grillby broke in sharply. “You know how good he was at twisting everything into your problem or your fault when it wasn’t.”

“R-right, right,” you stuttered. It might have seemed harsh, but this was something you had asked him to do to help keep you from spiraling back into your habits of self-deprecation. “I guess…the long and short of it is that, when making out, he always wanted to do open-mouthed kisses – like French kissing or whatever – while I don’t particularly like them. At first he was very understanding, and honestly I was willing to give them another try whenever he asked, but as time wore on, he started to get…mad at me. He said that, given how often we kept trying them, I should’ve figured them out, or gotten used to them, or just…put up with them to make him happy, even if they still made me uncomfortable.”

Red flames burned more intensely. “That was...” He paused, clearly hunting for a polite way to voice his frustration with your former fiancé. “…very unfair of him. Did he pressure you to keep trying them?”

“Not exactly? I wanted to keep trying, hoping that eventually I would figure them out, but when I still didn’t like them and would ask him to stop, that’s when he’d snap at me. He never forced me to keep going, but his comments made me feel just as bad. A-and later on –” You stopped yourself, not wanting to say last part out loud. You were afraid it would come across as whiny or jealous.

“What did he do?” Grillby prompted, voice carefully neutral though you could feel his radiant heat tick up slightly.

“He…e-even though he said he wouldn’t, he started comparing making out with me to making out with the person he cheated with and ended up leaving me for. H-he’d always apologize right away and say he wouldn’t do it again, only to just do it the next time he got back from spending the night with them. It was like he was proving to me that I was…broken somehow. They could do it and like it and apparently be amazing at it, so why couldn’t I? It made me feel s-so awful about myself every time he did it.”

“I’d imagine so.” He cupped your chin, lifting your head look up at him. “He shouldn’t have shamed you for having limits and boundaries. There’s nothing wrong with them. I would argue that it’s good to know your limits and stand by them.” He looked to the side with a scowl. “I cannot believe that he would compare you to someone else like that. Well, no, I can; I’m just always…amazed by how uncaring he could be.” He blew out an irritated puff of smoke (thoughtfully away from you) before softening again, leaning down to affectionately bump his forehead against yours. “There is nothing ‘broken’ about you for having likes and dislikes. We don’t have to do open-mouthed kissing if you don’t want to.”

“That’s just it. I do want to. I…I want to keep trying, I really do. There is something about them that’s nice, even if I can’t quite figure out what it is because I lose it too quickly. Th-that’s when they start to feel…wrong to me. I was…I am afraid that you would be offended if we started and then I asked you to stop,” you explained.

“Oh, sweet spark…I wouldn’t have been offended even if you hadn’t told me all of that. If you want to try them again, we can, but please don’t hesitate to tell me when you’ve had enough.” He smiled kindly at you, flames returning to their normal orange, though there was still concern in his golden-yellow eyes. “Is there something in particular that you don’t like about them?”

“I’m really not sure…I think part of the issue is that I don’t know what exactly I’m supposed to do during them. He’d tell me to just ‘go with it’ or ‘do what feels right,’ but that didn’t really explain anything. I don’t really get the point of them, either. People say you’re supposed to feel closer to the person you’re doing them with, but I just feel awkward. And…I guess…I-I don’t know…just…” You shrugged. “Tongues are weird?”

Grillby burst out laughing, yellow-tinged flames sending up a harmless cloud of sparks, and quickly pulled you into a hug before you could take offense to his reaction. “I’m sorry, spark. I’m not laughing at you. Your phrasing was just very, ah…”

“Blunt?”

“I was going to go with ‘unexpected,’ but ‘blunt’ is equally accurate,” he said, still chuckling. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe there’s an instruction manual for making out.”

“Oh, the internet has plenty of ideas, I just don’t understand any of them,” you told him with a tiny grin. You loved when you could make him laugh like that, big and loud and undeniably real. It made you feel special. Even Sans’ puns only got a snort at best (you had a hunch the poor barkeep had heard them all at least a dozen times).

He breathed out a long sigh as he got himself under control again. “So, we can try some open-mouthed kissing, but if you want to stop, I won’t take it personally, okay?” he said gently, surmising everything you told him. “Is there anything else I should know about? Any other likes or dislikes?”

You glanced away shyly. “I-I don’t know…What other things did you have in mind?”

“Well…” He paused for a second, tilting his head contemplatively. His lips quirked slightly, a sort of playfulness entering his voice. “How about nibbling or biting?”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “I, uh…I-I never really did much biting myself, b-but I do like being bitten. N-not hard enough to break skin, but getting bitten makes me feel…” You trailed off nervously.

“It’s alright to tell me, spark. I won’t make fun of you,” Grillby murmured, taking your hands to place a comforting kiss on the back of each of them.

You took a shaky breath. “Getting bitten makes me feel safe. I-I know that sounds strange. The best explanation I have is…It’s like I’m being shown that while you could make it a painful experience, you won’t. You have the desire to not hurt me along with the control to keep it gentle. It’s…reassuring.”

“That’s a beautiful sentiment,” he said, his sincerity surprising you. “I think why I like to bite fits nicely with your reason to like being bitten. You know how much trust means to me? Well, there’s a trust the receiver has to put in the giver. They must trust the giver to be good to them while they are vulnerable.” Flicks of blue wove through his flames as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “So if I wanted to bite your neck, you would first have to let yourself be vulnerable enough to allow me that close, and that isn’t something you would let me do unless you trusted me. I love that level of trust, and I would love nothing more than to reinforce it, to show you that your trust isn’t misplaced.”

You smiled shyly up at him. “And you reinforcing it by being gentle with me would make me feel even safer. I-I guess we do match up pretty well.”

“So, what do you think? Would you like to try making out with me?” Grillby asked softly, as gentle and understanding as ever.

You dropped your gaze, your nerves still getting the better of you. “Wh-what if I can’t? What if I mess up or let you down?”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. He waited until you met made eye contact again before speaking. “I think that’s him talking, spark.”

You sighed. You’d never had much self-confidence to begin with, but your ex had stomped out what little you’d had, making you constantly second and third guess everything. “Y-you’re probably right…”

He sat back again, gazing down at you thoughtfully. “I have an idea that might help you relax, if you’d like to try it, but it would involve being in my lap. Are you okay with that?”

Your cheeks warmed a little. “L-like sitting sideways o-or straddling you?”

“Straddling. It would be easier with you facing me.” You looked down at your still-intertwined fingers, teeth worrying your lip again. “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want. You can call it quits anytime, and you won’t be letting me down for doing so. I promise,” he assured you.

You nodded slowly. “Okay. Y-yeah, let’s try it.” You met his eyes again and smiled, even though you felt your lips trembling as you spoke.

He leaned in to give you a small, soft kiss. “Thank you. I promise I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, warm breath brushing over your lips. He let go of your hands so he could carefully guide you into place. You couldn’t stop the uncertain whimper that came out of you as you settled on his lap, legs spread to either side of his. “It’s alright. Just sit for a moment. Breathe. I have you,” he soothed, hands on your waist to keep you steady.

Your hands had a death-grip on his shoulders as you shook, staring unseeing at his chest. You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “I-I’m s-sor-ry,” you stuttered.

“It’s alright,” he repeated. “Take as much time as you need. Let me know when you’re ready or if you want out. I won’t do anything without your say-so.”

You managed a shaky nod, forcing your breathing to even out, timing it to Grillby’s rising and falling chest. True to his word, he just held you in place, thumbs rubbing circles against your sides as he waited. “O-okay…I’m okay,” you said at last. “What’s next?”

“May I take your glasses?” Nodding, you took them off and gave them to him. He deposited them on the side table before touching your cheek. “Thank you. Now, I need you to close your eyes and focus on me, okay? Don’t think about anything else. Just focus on my voice and my touch. Be here with me,” he said.

You took as steady of a breath as you could and did as he asked. His hands moved to behind your back and pulled you closer. He softly shushed the thin whine that came from the back of your throat as he used a hand to gently press your head to his shoulder and hold you there, the arm still around you keeping you flush against his chest. And then he began talking.

Grillby’s voice rumbled against your ear as he told you a story about that silly jukebox that still refused to work properly despite how many people tried to fix it. His fingers slowly ran up and down your back as he told you that while showing off with bar tricks was fun, he preferred just focusing on his patrons rather than tossing bottles. He softly pet your head as he told you about a cave in the Underground, one he didn’t visit often as it was a little too damp for his liking, that had hundreds of glittery crystals in the walls and ceiling, and how Monsters would pretend they were stars and would wish upon them. His hand stopped to rest on the back of your neck, warm and comforting, as he told you about a park he used to visit when Monsters first came to the Surface, just to help himself learn to exist around humans again, to remind himself that the War was long over and he was no longer Underground.

The longer he talked and tended to you, the more you relaxed against him. There was no pressure here, no judgment or demands. You let his careful touches and gentle warmth calm you, his smoky-sweet scent and soft voice soothe away your worries until your world was just him.

After a while, Grillby fell silent and a few moments later, you felt yourself being eased away from his chest to sit upright. You almost opened your eyes, but a soft “don’t” from him kept you from doing so. He ran his hands from your shoulders up your neck to your cheeks, cupping them gently, pulling you just a little closer, and you felt him kiss your forehead. Another followed, then one on your temple, your cheek, then forehead again. He repeated the process on the other side of your face, then placed a teasing one on the tip of your nose, making you giggle. Finally he pressed his lips to yours, and when he pulled back, you chased him, wanting more. The kisses that followed were soft and sweet. Though he held you close, a hand cradling the back of your head, he let you decide how long to hold them, how many you wanted at a time, and when you needed a moment to take a few calming breaths.

“I-I love you, Grillby. I love you s-so much,” you whimpered during a break, your emotions becoming unstable again. Your throat tightened like you were about to cry. You didn’t deserve someone who was this patient and kind and understanding, did you? He shouldn’t have to deal with the mess you were. He deserved someone more put together and confident like him. He should just –

“Look at me, sweet spark. I’m right here. You’re okay,” he cooed, derailing your disparaging thoughts and bringing you back to the moment. You squinted at first, finding him too bright to look at initially. His flames were a vibrant orange-yellow, and his eyes filled with as much tenderness as you’d ever seen. “I love you, too. I’m very proud of you. You’re doing so well.” He nuzzled your cheek before sitting back. You smiled shyly as his fingers brushed through your hair. “Would you like to keep going? Maybe try some open-mouthed kissing?”

“I-I don’t know what to do…” Your nerves returned, though not nearly as much as you had expected. Grillby’s careful attention had left you feeling far more relaxed and secure than you thought was possible for someone as anxious as you.

“That’s alright. We can play a little bit, try things out. It doesn’t have to go any further than that.”

A thought occurred to you. “I…It won’t hurt you, will it? I-I mean…humans have saliva, which is primarily water, a-and you’re…you know…”

He shook his head with an understanding smile. “There shouldn’t be enough to be harmful to me. But I promise to tell you if something is wrong as long as you promise to tell me if things become too much.”

“O-okay…deal.” You managed a shaky grin of your own.

Grillby kissed your forehead. “Would you like me to take the lead?”

“Y-yes, please,” you answered fast enough to make him chuckle.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Close your eyes again for me.” It took you a moment to obey, still a little uncertain about the actual kissing. “You’re trembling,” he murmured, his hands running up and down your arms. “What are you worried about?”

“I…I’m still afraid of messing up or letting you down,” you admitted.

“You won’t. Do you know how I know that?” He lightly tapped your nose, making you squeak. “Because the only things I have asked of you are that you trust me and try, and you are. I didn’t ask for perfection, and I never will. I love you, and that includes everything that comes with who you are.”

“E-even when I’m sad or scared?”

“Well…alright. I don’t like when you’re scared, but I do like that you let me comfort you. I don’t like seeing you cry, but I do like that you let me dry your tears. I love that you feel safe enough with me to let yourself be fragile. I love seeing your smile when you feel better.” His hands cupped your cheeks as you did just that. “Yes, that one right there,” he added, laughing when you lightly pushed his shoulder, embarrassed by his teasing. He kissed your forehead, an arm going around your waist. “Would it be alright if I took a little control of you for this?” he asked, turning a little more serious.

You frowned. You wanted to say that he had been in control this whole time, but that wasn’t true. For the whole experience, he had asked before doing anything, waited for your confirmation, and you had no doubt that he would’ve respected any request to stop. Whatever he wanted, you knew it wouldn’t be anything that would hurt you, but that he was asking to take away some of your autonomy was a little unnerving just on principle. “Wh…what do you mean?”

“…I don’t know how to explain what I have in mind. May I show you?” You hesitated before nodding. The hand that was still on your cheek slid to behind your head. He wove his fingers into your hair and tightened his grip. It didn’t hurt, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to turn your head without meeting some resistance from his hold. The realization wasn’t as upsetting as you thought it would be. “Relax your neck and shoulders for me,” he requested, and you obeyed. He slowly, carefully, tilted your head from one side to the other, then back to expose your throat to him. “I want to be able to move you as I kiss you so I can find out what feels best for both of us. I won’t jerk you around or anything of the sort, just move you,” he said, tipping your head forward (you were surprised by the flicker of disappointment you felt that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to kiss your neck). “Is this okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed.

Grillby pulled you closer, your arms automatically wrapping around his shoulders, pressing yourself against him. You almost leaned in to initiate the first kiss, but your nerves held you back, still worried about failing him. He must have felt your uncertainty, because he placed a soft, chaste kiss to your forehead. “You are safe, my spark. Safe, and loved very dearly.”

“I-I know…I trust you,” you answered softly, sincere despite feeling out of your depth.

“I know you do.” You heard the smile in his voice. He kissed your lips just as gently once, twice, then a little harder, held for a little longer, and then back to soft. He repeated this several times, kissing you deeper and then backing off, gauging your reaction and adjusting for it. The attention and care led you deeper into security, so when you felt his lips part against yours, you responded by doing the same without a thought. You felt something different, hot and pliant, sweep across your lower lip. His tongue. You pulled back just a little at the realization, more out of surprise than anything else. He titled your head to nuzzle your cheek. “Too soon?”

“’M not sure,” you mumbled, your answer honest.

He tipped your head back and placed several kisses along your jaw, traveling down to your throat. You whimpered softly at the sensation, making him chuckle. “What you really want is for me give you some attention here, don’t you,” he purred against your neck. It was not a question.

You swallowed, caught between embarrassment and anticipation. “Y-yes…”

“I’ll give you what you want, but you have to do something for me first.”

Your arms tightened around his shoulders, anxious even if you knew he wouldn’t ask for anything crazy or let anything bad happen. “O-o-okay?”

“I want to tell yourself that you are worth this, that you deserve patience and kindness and love. Even if you don’t believe it yet, I want you to hear you say that you are enough simply by being you.”

A tear squeezed its way out from your shut eyelids. That was probably the hardest thing he could’ve asked of you, and he knew it. He knew how little you thought of yourself, how much self-loathing you held, how you believed you were nothing but a burden to him and those you loved, how you thought you hadn’t done enough to earn the things he did for you. So of course he would ask you to be kind to yourself.

#wip #undertale #my writing #unfinished #grillby x reader

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