#even before seeing his design with a healthy body

[crying-fantasies]

Affection

Masterlist

Mixed ones are rare ones, no one says it, not out loud, and not exactly in a bad way, it’s only that not even the elders understand how a pair of human and mer could ever have progeny, a healthy one at that.

Many youngsters had their ideas, fueled by the fact that the sky people, like the hoomans, had faces that looked a lot like them, or maybe the other way around. Some crazy ones stated, at the beginning, that the sky people stole the faces of unfortunate mers and used them to pretend to take their side, such ideas were destroyed once a sky person gave birth in the floating caves where the sky people used to live, and all could witness in the strange hatchling, the traces of its little face, the proof was undeniable, and many mers couldn't resist the vision of such tiny being that looked at them from the other side of the water with it’s parents looming around.

“Maybe they come from a star sibling to our planet”.

“Are the old tales true? Our planet was once bigger than it already is?”

“The tales of the great catastrophe are tales, only hatchlings would believe those.”

“How do you explain them? Their hands lack claws but still look like servos. Their eyes may be dull, but they work almost the same as our optics. Their legs are the only remarkable difference apart from those tendrils in their heads.”

Then, what others said, really took a whole roundabout when a mer gave birth to a shell-ess egg, nothing had been seen before, maybe in the form of a bigger size frame who didn't have the necessityto in u be their young, but the carrier was of small frame and the youngling came in a thin shell was after the time the carrier was expected to lay any egg, you could see an already formed hatchling that broke free soon after, the youngling was designated Hot Rod, and appart from his strange birth, he looked the same as any other mer, if anything he acted way too much like his sire, a human that lived in the floating caves and almost moved to the sand reef to be near the carrier of his offspring, showing that hoomans were really good mates and parents.

Obviously, the mateless youngsters were the first ones to peek over the water to look at the hoomans of science, their optics dreamy and servos itching to try and hold the feet of the hoomans, try and catch their attention once dancing wasn't enough as the hoomans only clapped their hands in amusement before going back to their work, only once a sky person actively followed a mer, and Powerglide became the target of envy from many, more so when his mate also gave life in the form of two fully formed “babiis��� as she called them, they looked just like Powerglide, and their tails were normal.

It gave comfort to the elders. Powerglide was a flier, maybe he preferred to mend his own business, and some weren’t exactly interested in him; it was a loss nonetheless. Chandler was a hunter, a great one at that. His bond to the human caretaker broke the spark of many chasing after his attention, and while Hot Rod was strange in how he acted and talked, there was no denying that he was healthy, growing fast, no mate to talk about as he always failed in the trials, and Optimus was even thinking of giving him the title of Prime in top of all, let him have his pod just because “Hot Rod is the best example that the sky people, no, the humans are of great help for us”.

But Hot Rod, no, Rodimus was way too different, while any other mer would be thrilled to have such an opportunity, Rodimus escaped from it, and some youngsters followed him, and no one seemed surprised when he, just like his carrier, felt for a sky person.

What surprised, was that his mate gave a full clutch of three eggs, their shells weren't perfect, the body of the carrier wasn't prepared for such an ordeal, but the hoomans gave him fertile eggs, three out of three, not even the most sought-after carrier had it easy.

Sky people were worryingly fertile.

More attention was attached, and more were intrigued, more by the fact of how it was possible, and most were curious in how it worked, because hoomans didn't have tails, so they didn't have slits, yet in three different occasions they mated and gave offspring, tiny and cute offspring just like that hooman babii.

And Rodimus, being the little slag that he was, didn't have the same reservations as a new sire should have, showing off his new sparks with pride, they were struggling from side to side, their round faceplate were new, all were tiny, more than most new sparks, they looked more hooman, they were chubby, healthy looking; Rodimus looked proud, he should be, and many of the unmated mers looked at his offspring with several questions that he answered like he was a great sage.

“How did you…?”, most trailed off, not knowing how to phrase it correctly, and Rodimus licked the head of his youngest with affection.

“Do they have…?”, one of the pups started to purr under the light, sleeping in the arms of his sire, many looked, wishing to take them and cuddle them.

Finally, one has the guts to ask, “humans have arrays?!”, all of them closed their interest at the red and yellow mer, who finally stopped the grooming and looked directly at all the curious optics, he almost laughed in their faceplates, where did these morons think his babies came from? “Humans only have one of each,” Rodimus acted uninterested, his mind was flying back to sweet, delicate fingers and your warm embrace, “humans with valves can be carriers and the ones with spikes can be sires.”

Rodimus and his big glossa only made it worse, and before the elders could do anything to stop it, or make them change their minds, as they all saw that in place of dancing and showing their scales, and yes, some of the humans understood, their paids hanging if they touched the local fauna, the elders knew that it wouldn't be enough, as more than one mateless individual had the guts to still go for it, especially with a Prime encouraging them, “humans like strange things”, Rodimus would say like a sage, “and they don't understand subtle, you must go all out”.

Some captured the most strange-looking fishes, rocks, or plants to present to the sky people with white garments, making them fall near them with their trickery, the other hoomans noticed too, and both sides had to talk to limit the mingling, “no touching” the humans were warned, but Rodimus was quick to encourage once more “who said they are the only ones to touch us”.

It was a constant headache, especially when some could catch a young mer dragging down a human to smoother them in affection.

[rmorde]

[melodyanqel]

Heart Stealer | w.hj

summary: a little angel visits her father at his workplace.

pairing: husband!father!ha-joon x wife!mother!reader

genre/tags: fluff, established relationship, married couple, the cast of squid game being a family

wc: 1.2k words

a/n: it's been so so so long since i last wrote a one shot and i missed these. so i did one of my beloved hajoon hehe. i'm also planning to do more of my fav k-actors and dramas/shows so stay tuned! enjoy reading my luvs

pt. 2 - fairness

Squid Game is a worldwide phenomenon, and one of the most appealing features is the set designs. You are a passionate set designer. You illustrate your imagination and make it come to life for Squid Game and other popular Korean movies and dramas. 

Aside from your entertainment career, you are a mother and wife to one beautiful baby girl and the magnificent actor, Wi Ha-joon. Your love story with him is like something out of a K-drama.

The couple met during the first season of Squid Game and somehow Ha-joon found interest in a lovely woman who taught him how to draw the masks of the Pink Guards. Then, he asked her if she was available after filming. Like that, a spark ignited between the actor and the set designer. 

Ha-joon saw that you were the one for him, the starlight who showed him the brightest and happiest pathway in life. So, he proposed a hand in marriage. You straightaway agreed to be his wife and unexpectedly become the mother of his children. 

Wi Hwa-young is the cutest and sweetest baby angel. 

She immediately received so much love from Ha-joon’s fans and celebrity friends. She has her mother’s pretty eyes and lips while she has her father’s cute ears and elegant face shape and nose. She might become the next beauty queen in Asia and other places.

Hwa-young is also super talkative or babbles nonsense because she loves people’s attention and they just laugh and smile at her. Of course, like most daughters, she is a daddy’s girl. Hwa-young would get ecstatic whenever you say, “Appa” or Ha-joon’s name. 

A week before continuing to film Squid Game 2, you told her about taking her to work and Ha-joon will be there. Hwa-young happily bounced in her height chair and squealed. You couldn’t resist squishing her mochi-like cheeks and hugging her tiny body because she was too adorable. It warms your heart that she loves Ha-joon so much. He once doubted himself about not being the perfect father and it’s common for most upcoming dads to get nervous, but for him it’s different. 

Ha-joon is an actor with so much fame and will likely be out and less at home. Like the best wife that you are, you assured him that he wouldn’t be the worst father in the world because he truly cares about you and Hwa-young. Ha-joon cried when you comforted him. It also made you love him more whenever he expressed his vulnerability. 

Now in the present time, the family will continue to grow happy and healthy. 

“Wow! You look like a princess!” 

Hwa-young is sitting on the bed as you dress her up. It’s spring so you have her dressed in a pink floral dress with short sleeves, frilly socks, and strapped shoes. You even added a bow clip with a glittery heart in the middle on her ebony hair. “Are you excited to see appa?” You asked and earned a joyful giggle. You etched a smile. “He is excited too. How about Jung-jae samchon, Byung-hun samchon, and everyone else?” You say the names of the famous actors and Hwa-young continues to giggle out loud. 

Once finishing her outfit, you take your child, purse, and baby bag, ready to leave the apartment. It’s very spacious with a gorgeous view of the city and perfect for a family of three. You enter your car to buckle up Hwa-young in her seat. She is seven months old and is close to the stage where she can walk. She has been crawling and it amazes her parents how fast she moves. Maybe one day she’ll become athletic like Ha-joon. 

You shut the driver’s door and start up the vehicle. “Ready baby?” You reached your hand behind your seat to touch Hwa-young’s small hand. She shakes yours as a response. You chuckle, “Okay. Let’s go!” You begin exiting the parking lot and making your way to the studio. It’ll be another long filming day, but Hwa-young will brighten the mood as you work. 

The thirty-minute drive was smooth, considering it was the weekend and usually gets hectic. You arrived at the place and parked the car. “We’re here, baby.” You tell your daughter, who babbles so cutely. You then gathered yourself to help Hwa-young out of her seat and take your belongings. A mother is always carrying a lot of stuff so it’s typical. 

You have your ID badge around your neck for access management and a sense of identity. All of your colleagues wear them because working in the film industry is like working at an ordinary job but with celebrities. And it’s to show you are working for the production team. 

As soon as you walk in, the staff members greet you and Hwa-young, more like going frantic when they see her. She does the same by flailing her arms with a big smile. 

After saying hello to the staff members, you go to your office. While going through the hallways in a big studio, you see the cast members are together in a room, rehearsing their lines. 

Ha-nuel is the first person to see you and Hwa-young. “Y/N! Princess! Hello!” A large smile plays on his handsome face. In unison, the cast notices and is happy to see you both. 

Jung-jae reaches out his arms. “Come to samchon!” He beams at the sight of the baby. You handed Hwa-young to the star of the show. She instantly got comfortable in his arms. “You’re much bigger now,” Jung-jae said, kissing her forehead. Byung-hun is next to him and he gently pokes Hwa-young's soft chubby cheek. “You look so pretty today. Are you a real angel?” He asked and his index finger got held by Hwa-young’s little hands. 

You and the actors and actresses laughed merrily at the precious interaction. One by one, they all take turns holding Hwa-young because she is their mood booster and is clearly enjoying it. Your baby should be called, ”Little Miss Popular.” 

Si-wan was the last person to hold her and she squished his cheeks, hard. “Hwa-young-ah! Samchon loves you too!” He cried out through the pain yet allowed her to do whatever she wanted. Yu-ri takes out her phone to snap a picture. “Aww so cute!” She gushed at the moment and everyone did the same thing—taking videos and pictures of Si-wan getting attacked by Hwa-young.

Ae-sim says, “For such a tiny being she is strong.” The oldest of the cast is amazed by Hwa-young’s growth. You nodded, “Ha-joon’s child, after all.” You and the people can see the resemblance. 

Then, the man of the hour walks into the room. He is wearing all black, fluffy dark hair down, and the slight stubble on his upper lip is showing. Ha-joon’s appearance looks mysterious and cold but he quickly smiles when he spots the love of his life and princess. 

“Wow, this room is energetic.” Ha-joon comments on the upbeat atmosphere. You tell him, “Well your daughter has the effect.” You watch Hwa-young pulling on Si-wan’s hair. 

Ha-joon snickered and helped his friend out. “You little mischief. Are you stealing people’s hearts?” He gingerly takes his daughter into his arms and nuzzles his nose against her nose. She squeals at the ticklish touch.

Seo-hwan speaks out of the blue, “Just like her father.” His comment has the cast and you laughing, jovially. Ha-joon blushed and Hwa-young looked clueless. Dong-uk cleared his throat from laughing too much. “She will become a heart stealer when she grows older.” He stated, which has the father chuckling nervously. 

“I hope not,” Ha-joon replied in a playful yet stern voice. You sighed and rolled your eyes because you expected him to be overprotective. 

[goodeapple]

pedal to the metal (cregan s. modern hotd pwp o.s.)

pairing : Cregan x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : MDNI PWP, hate sex babyyy! cunnilingus (creg's a munch, let's talk about it), p-in-the-v, doggystyle, sex in a public place, misogynistic language/illusions, brat taming, general yummy stuff

word count : 3,500+

note : two updates? in less than two weeks? who is sheeee. but actually, i have a nasty sinus infection and i feel like a hot air balloon so any love from ya'll would cure me. all my love, always xx

.

.

.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Your money's no good here." Cregan rumbles, letting his eyes roam leisurely down the enchanting bends and blooms of Ysilla's body. 

The dress she's slid into is nothing short of obscene- the silky caramel color a twin shade of her soft, supple skin. The entirety of her chest may be covered to the base of her throat courtesy of the halter neckline, but that doesn't account for the backless design that bares her down to the bounce of her ass. She's all leg and sky high heels, the hemline stopping short just below her cheeks. Her midnight hair is twisted up and off her shoulders, displaying the huge fucking diamonds decorating her earlobes. 

She's a showroom car in the middle of his dingy garage. Untouchable. Unattainable.

Ysilla eyes him with a healthy sprinkling of mistrust, giving him a very unimpressed once over. Every speck of grease on his jeans seems to grow darker, the dirt under his nails thickening into a damning paste. Cregan grits his teeth, recognizing the look for exactly what it is- he's shit under her shoes. 

"Just do me a favor, alright?" He goes on before she can't stop him, the perk of her eyebrow haughty and aching to rebuff him. "Lay offa Jace. Man's been through the ringer, he doesn't need you piling on all the time."

The look of gobsmacked shock on her pretty face is priceless. Cregan bets no one's ever talked to her like that before.

"You don't tell me what to do, Stark."

"Not telling you, I'm askin' you." He bites back, rolling his eyes. She picks Jace up sometimes, pulling up in her candy apple red Corvette- no doubt thanks to mummy's money- and doesn't even bother to get out and set foot inside of Stark & Son's Body Shop. She'll lay on the horn, harping at Jace to get a move on and stop wasting my fucking time. 

Real classy gal. 

"It's my brother's own goddamn problem that he wrapped his Ferrari 'round a tree while he was pissed. Now Mum's making him work off his house arrest in this shit shop, and I have to take time out of my day to pick him up from daycare? Bite me." Such vitriol seems unlikely to come from sparkly glossed lips but it pours like oil, easy and thick off her tongue. She's crossed her arms, cocked a hip, and is glaring at him something serious. 

'Shit shop' eh? Cregan snarls, Northern pride burning through the tips of his ears. He stands, kicking away the rolling stool, all six feet and more of him swallowing up the Targaryen daughter in his shadow. Even with her heels, she still has to look up at him to give him her nastiest look. 

"And where are your priorities exactly, Princess?" Cregan doesn't make a habit of talking to women like this but Ysilla gnaws at him like frostbite. Plus, he's got nothing to lose. His uncle is the one doing the favor for Jace's mum. Cregan doesn't owe anyone shit. 

"You off to another club? Didn't I just see your photo splashed over every mag from here to Rook's Rest last week? Partying and gettin' sloshed, stumbling into limos face first and ass up." He chuckles, enjoying a little too much how her bronzed cheeks bloom rosy, the whites of her eyes growing frosty. She's positively fuming- he's surprised steam hasn't shot out of her ears yet. Cregan decides to push his luck, tucking a stubborn curl behind her ear, tracing the shell of it in faux tenderness. 

"What're you searching for at the bottom of all those bottles? Who are ya looking for in the ones that end up in your bed?" 

He expects the smack because that last bit was a little too far. Shit stings, he'll give it to her, waggling his jaw to dissipate the pain. He rubs at the skin of his cheek, the stubbled flesh hot under his hand. 

"Struck a nerve, did I?" He laughs darkly, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. It's a valiant effort, one made in vain as another manicured paw sails through the air and attempts to get familiar with his face. Cregan catches Ysilla's hand, yanking her into him if only to limit how much destruction she can cause. 

"You get one Princess, you don't get another." 

Cregan watches the narrowing of her captivating indigo eyes, her little angry breaths hot along his chest. Maybe he'd laugh at the fact that her pissed off face is about as menacing as a pouting puppy if he didn't realize all of her is pressed into the entire front of him. He refuses to focus on the softness of her breasts pillowed against his ribs. Blocks out the rosemary of her shampoo drifting up his nose from the strands swaying under his chin. 

He lets a traitorous thought drift into his head, a whisper of how fucking perfect she feels against him, how deliciously right she is in his arms. 

"What dumb slag told you that you were hot shit enough to talk to a girl this way?" Ysilla spits, trying to yank free her wrists he still has locked in his meaty fists. 

Cregan scoffs, releasing her and taking a step back- for his sake or hers, he won't answer, not even in his head. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

She rubs at the tender skin under her Cartier bracelets, and Cregan argues with himself to not feel too bad. Considering his face still hurts like a bitch, he doesn't take much convincing. 

"Maybe I would."

He almost misses it, Ysilla's voice dimmed down to a near whisper. But it's just the two of them this late at night, so she may as well've screamed it at the top of her lungs. 

Of fucking course. 

"Oh, I see. Does that turn you on? Guys treating you like shit?" It's his turn to cross his arms and look down the tip of his nose at her. "Or do you just want a man that won't bow down to you because of your last name?" 

"Easy, big boy." Ysilla sneers. She spins on her heel, sauntering away from him and Cregan certainly does not stare at the beguiling jiggle of her ass.  

She finds a seat, reclining on the hood of her Corvette, the same one he was doing a solid for Jace fixing up, faulty fuel sensor and a shitty transmission hidden under the shiny red hood. She may be a bit of a twat but she's still my sister. Can't have her skiddin' off the Long Bridge, Mum would have my ass. 

"I've had enough night-outs to last a lifetime. Maybe�� I should try out something different." She crosses her long legs at the ankle and the shop lights might be severely unflattering on most people, but of course that doesn't apply to her. The white glow bounces off her polished skin, illuminating her in a showcase display, enticing anyone who may spare a glance. Fuck, he wants to take a bite out of her. 

"What? Wanna slum it?" Cregan can't believe this shit- maybe Ysilla knocked a screw loose when she swatted at him earlier and he's hallucinating like a bad fucking mushroom trip. 

She giggles, an evil little sound that would probably make a baby cry. "Your words, not mine." Her fingers dance at the edge of her dress, dipping below the hem, raising it just so. She's got thick thighs, creamy and unblemished, and Cregan thinks of how easily they'd spread apart for his shoulders when he'd go face first between them. His silence stretches on and Ysilla takes it as an unspoken answer. 

"No? Your loss." She shrugs, pushing to her feet. 

"Bend over the hood. Keep your heels on."

He's somewhat proud his voice doesn't shake. He's no blushing bride but this is pretty ballsy. The shop door isn't even locked- he'd opened it for her once she arrived and expected her to walk right back out of it in a matter of minutes. His guys are all long gone for the night, probably already a few pints deep at the pub, but this isn't the best part of King's Landing. Anyone could try the door and walk into the porno he's apparently shooting in his garage. 

He expects a fight, at least a snide remark or two but Ysilla is full of surprises. She gives him a sexy little smirk, staring him down like she's expecting him to back out. When all he does is raise an impatient eyebrow, she bites her lip in anticipation and spins around. She walks her hands up the hood of her car, positioning herself in the most alluring display of come take me now Cregan's ever seen. 

He doesn't make his feet move but suddenly, somehow, he's behind her, nearly flush with the back of her thighs. He wedges his steel toe in between her stilettos and knocks them apart. Ysilla gasps as her legs spread, goosebumps peppering over the naked skin of her back. 

He lets himself enjoy this, running his palms from the bare slope of her shoulders, down the sides of her covered breasts, and over the small of her back. She feels fantastic, all woman, and his cock pulses thickly behind his fly. He sees her fingers flex along the gleaming red metal she clings to before the sight drops away as he squats behind her, his face level now with her delicious derriere. 

Ysilla peers at him from under her arm, a surprised little laugh escaping her. "Thought you'd be the kind to just shove it in." 

Cregan shimmies the expensive silk of her dress over the swell of her hips, exposing the globes of her ass to the tepid night air. He smiles, the softest look he's aimed at her so far tonight. "Ye of little faith, milady." 

She's beautiful, every inch of her. He suckles a string of bruises from the back of her knee to the swell of her cheek, stamping down the urge to sink his teeth into the lavish bounty of her body. 

"Gonna kiss my ass, Stark- oh! Damn se Sīkuda, fuckkk."

He indulges a dip of his tongue into where her thong blooms a dark dot, her honey soaking through the delicate material. He sucks on it like a man starved, pulling the sweetness out and onto his ravenous taste buds. A treat before the main course, he shucks them out of his way roughly, before burying his tongue inside of her cunt with no finesse. 

Ysilla startles forward, shouting out another curse but it falls on deaf ears, Cregan a man drowning in lust. Bitter she may be inside but between her legs is fucking sugar, the feminine musk of her arousal coating his mouth in a saccharin syrup. His eyes slip closed, losing himself in her decadent tang. He winds his arms around the front of her thighs and hugs her to his face, keeping her stuck against his insatiable tongue. He leaves her hole only to dip forward to wrap his lips around the pretty little pearl of her clit, enjoying how her legs quiver like jelly when he sucks too hard.

She's gonna have beard burn, he just knows it- he didn't have time to shave this morning. But he thinks of her tomorrow, sitting at the mile long dinner table he's sure they have at Dragonstone Manor, and how she'll wiggle and whine as the butlers pour her tea, working herself up as she rubs her tender thighs together. He yanks her impossibly closer, smothering his face in her pretty pussy. He feels her tighten, her hips arching backwards to ride his face, her moans echoing off the high ceilings and crashing down around them. He groans, mouth full, and the vibrations roll through her like a thundering bass.

Ysilla screams before she slaps a hand over her mouth, her orgasm sending a wave of sweet slick down his chin. He spears her on his tongue, dragging her on and off it, making sure to draw out her aftershocks until her legs kick. Cregan finally tears himself away, albeit unhappily, to gulp down air to fill his burning lungs. 

"Don't tease, Stark." She whines, reaching blindly behind her to push at his head.

"Don't tell me what to do, Targaryen." He parrots back, his speech slurred, drunk from his feast. He relents though, rocking onto his feet, going to flick open the button of his jeans. 

"Rubber." Ysilla commands, breathy and impatient, laid across the hood like a fucking Playboy spread. Her fingers have snuck between her legs and she rubs between her slick lips with unhurried small strokes.

Cregan pulls his wallet from his pocket, shifting through the bills before pulling out the foil packet (he keeps one handy, in case of emergencies and all). He tears open the edge and rolls it on, pumping himself once for assurity before lining himself up with her entrance. He snatches Ysilla's hand away from fondling herself, and he holds her sultry stare as he brings her wet fingers up to his mouth. He sucks them clean, her French-tipped nails curling loosely over his tongue. 

"You're filthy." Long gone is her previous acrid tone, in its place a needy, erotic purr. He winks at her, releasing her hand. She lets it flop bonelessly to her side, weak with satisfaction. He takes a hold of her hips, raising her up so that she teeters on heels. 

He catches her eye, raising a brow in an unspoken question. You good?

She answers with an annoyed miff of her mouth. Just get on with it. 

Cregan's never claimed to be the smartest guy around but shit, he doesn't need to be told twice. He slides forward, his spit and her slick letting him in with no resistance. 

"Fuck, that's good pussy." And he almost wishes he were lying- her ego could use a good adjustment- but he's currently sliding into the wettest, silkiest, hottest cunt he's ever had the privilege of being invited into. 

He takes a moment to focus on not being a minute man but as soon as the temptation to cum in under thirty fades, he gives her just what she needs. Hard, fast, and rough. He's sure she'll bruise- he's a big guy, plus the way he's squeezing at her hips and the start of her thighs is anything but tender. 

"Fuck it like you own it, Stark, come on." Ysilla slaps at the hood, meeting him thrust for thrust. Even with dick in her, she still thinks she's the one calling the shots. 

"Do you ever not talk?" He bites back, fisting his grip into the roots of her hair. She flutters around him as he pulls, hard. 

"Only when there's something in my mouth." Cheeky thing. She wants filthy? He shoves two fingers down her throat, bumping cruelly at the crowns of her teeth and scraping at the back of her tongue. She doesn't even gag, just hums and sucks on them like his work worn hands are a popsicle in July. 

"Pampered little rich bitch. Fucken desperate for some Northern cock, eh?"

Cregan thinks that she tries to whine out something, thinks he might hear prick, but the digits shoved in her mouth and the drool slipping down his wrist stunt that. Her nails burrow into his foreman, Ysilla clinging to him as he fucks her like a beast. He's not gentle, pistoning in and out of her so harshly that the Corvette rocks beneath them, the tires squeaking. 

She whimpers, her throat spasming around his fingers. A thought, unbidden, worms its way into his thoughts. What if she fakes it? And that pisses him the fuck off. Nah, if she wants to get down and dirty, she'll remember how hard she came when she was pinned underneath him. He rips his fingers free and only gives her a chance to cough once before gripping her jaw tightly.

"Tell me you like it." He rumbles into her ear, his Northern flourish thicker when he's turned on.

Ysilla moans, a broken, lovely sound that makes him grin like a fool.

"I fuckin' love it, oh my Gods." That's even better.

Cregan kisses her on instinct, planting one just below her ear, over the thrumming string of her pulse. She vibrates in a shiver, curling into him, the curve of her spine accepting the beating of his hips. Southern girls must not be used to good dick because Ysilla is fucking gagging for it. Her hood's gonna look like it just got a fresh wax from the way her wetness dribbles down her thighs. 

"Fuck yeah, take it take it take it take it." His hand wraps around her throat, a mind of its own, and hauls her to his chest. She's shaking, wild gasps for air whistling from her lips. Her hand dives down her belly, her fingertips searching for the sensitive slip of skin that'll bring them closer to the end of their fucked up little union. And Cregan may not enjoy her company but he's certainly enjoying this. He catches her wrist, trapping her against her own beautiful body as he winds both arms around her. 

"Un uh, you cum when I tell you to. Should make you beg for it. Should put you on your knees, with your pretty kitty aching still, teetering on the edge, and paint your face with my spunk. Think you're too good for me? When your pussy is squeezing the absolute life outta me?" Cregan thinks of putting a collar on her. Leading her around on a leash, tugging her forward to have her lap at his cock. "Cregan's Bitch" inscribed on a dangling gold charm that'd rest between her tits. She'd look good in pink- it'd make the rosiness of her lips glow lusciously.

Fuck, he's close. And for all the shit he may talk, he's not pulling out of her A1 snatch now. 

"So do it. Beg me, Princess. Beg me to let you cum."

Seemingly past the point of acting blasé, the plea tumbles from Ysilla's mouth before he's even done talking. "Yes yes yes, please baby, let me cum. Let me cum all over your cock. Break me in half on it, unnfff. Cregan!"

There it is. "Only because you asked so nicely." And his callous raised fingertips glide down to strum at her clit until she sobs, her legs going out, the only thing keeping her up Cregan's thick arms around her. She shivers and shakes for ages, guiding him through his own release as he cums into the condom. 

He presses his forehead to the center of her back, taking his time so that his knees don't buckle when he stands up. Pulling out of her sucks, leaving her warmth the last thing he wants to do but his back is screaming at him to straighten out and he's sure her legs must be at least half asleep by now. He ties off the rubber, tossing it into the bin behind them before he tucks himself back in his boxers. 

He snags a clean rag out of a drawer- it comes with a few oil stains sure, but it's been washed a thousand times. He wipes Ysilla clean, gentle around the raw skin of her inner thighs and the swollen lips of her center. She sighs softly, whispering a soft thank you into her arm pillowed beneath her chin. He kisses the side of her hip in acknowledgement, sliding her sodden panties back to cover her up. He helps her roll onto her back and she squints up at the track lights glaring down at them. 

He doesn't say much and neither does she, the afterglow fading until all that's left is the sweat sticky on their skin.  

"Can I take you out to dinner? I'm fucking starved." It's not a proposal or anything, just good manners in Cregan's opinion.

Ysilla looks down at her dress, wrinkled from him rucking it up and spotted from where she'd sweated through parts of it. She looks at him pointedly, less attitudey than before but still with her signature sharpness. He laughs, unperturbed and lighter than fucking air. That's the best orgasm he's had in… shit, probably ever. 

"I have a long sleeve you can throw on. Some sweats too." He ducks into the office and riffles through his gym bag, returning with the clothes that he'll sure will swamp her from head to toe. He tosses them onto the hood beside her.

"Couture, no doubt." She grumbles but she's already undoing the button at the nape of her neck that keeps the straps in place. It falls away like a bow off a present, revealing the one part of her he hasn't seen. 

He'll need a few before he can go another round but even so, his dick twitches in interest. He may be an ass man but Cregan's positive now there's no piece of her body he doesn't want to lick. Ysilla notices his shameless staring, forgetting his shirt she'd started to shrug on in her lap. She smirks, cupping her tits, her thumbs and forefingers pinching the dusky rose nipples into stiff peaks. 

"Like what you see?"

Cregan doesn't answer, not aloud anyway. He sweeps forward, coming to stand in between her lax legs. He cradles her face and that cocksure smugness melts like butter from her eyes, and she blinks big and wide up at him. Her lashes flutter, petals in a breeze, and Cregan takes his chance. He seals his lips over hers and swallows down the sigh she breathes into his mouth.

It's chaste, paling in comparison to the railing he just gave her but it doesn't make it any less nice. It's really nice actually, nicer than it has any right being. Ysilla wraps her legs around his hips, dragging him into glue to her front. Her breasts squeeze against his chest, her tongue demure as it traces his bottom lip. The scratch of her nipples against his work shirt sends her whimpering, and she clutches onto his biceps for purchase. 

The growl of his stomach wins out over the tightening in his jeans, and with enough willpower to win a war, he pulls away. He gives her another peck, enjoying the way her face goes soft when she's not frowning. 

He traces the beauty mark at the edge of her cheekbone, waiting for her eyes to slip shut before he yanks the long sleeve over her head. She pops through the shirt's opening like a bushy little groundhog, and Cregan smirks at the glare she daggers him with. 

"So, kebabs or fish and chips?"

.

.

.

Damn se Sīkuda . Damn the Seven

[hanafubukki]

Excerpt: Tomorrow, tomorrow Malleus would return home. Without him. Lilia had planned to never return to Briar Valley. Now, he never would. His home lost forever. 

He sent them away. 

Two knights, haggard and stalwart, reluctant to leave. 

Lilia understood. 

They have sworn their life and fealty to Malleus Draconia.

Their care for him extended even beyond something as simple as duty and loyalty, 

But they needed their rest.

The journey tomorrow would be a taxing one. They’d need all the rest they could get. 

After tomorrow’s journey’s end, there would be no more knighthood for the two. They would need to look for a new path. Their chosen path too painful to continue now.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, Malleus will take his final journey home. Without him. Lilia had planned to never return to Briar Valley. Now, he never would. His home lost forever.

Malleus Draconia would be returning home in a coffin carried by his two knights. 

A coffin Lillia himself put together. Made with glass and magic.

Engraving and weaving intricate designs through slightly shaken hands. 

Cushioned with the finest silk Lilia could find on such short notice. A pillow cushion made for horns for one to sleep comfortably. Given long ago. 

Not as fine as it could be as a prince deserves.

But Lilia didn’t see the reason why it should be. 

Malleus was just a boy. 

His boy.

He didn’t deserve to have his sleep cold and unfamiliar. 

He should be surrounded by that which he loves and made him comfortable.

And this was just that. 

Tomorrow. 

Malleus would return home.

Lilia would remain behind. 

It wasn’t shame or grief that stayed his hand. He would rather be quartered and shamed in front of all of Briar Valley for not protecting Malleus. 

He was simply too tired to make the journey. 

A truly cowardice move on his part.

He didn’t think he could watch them lower Malleus’ body into a special pit made for his burial; in a mausoleum made for past royalty without throwing himself into it to join him.

A Father couldn’t bury his own son. He didn’t have that strength in him. 

Trembling fingers wipes at stinging eyes. No, he can’t.

Not right now.

He doesn’t want his tears to mar Malleus.

He bathed Malleus with fragrances of evergreen and the sweetness of vetiver and oak moss.

He smelled like home.

Lilia has never prayed to a higher being before. 

Rarely believed in them.

Having seen what he had. War. Bloodshed. Death.

But he prays now.

Please 

Please.

It was too quiet. 

Bath time was never this quiet. 

Running after a spitfire. Once on four legs and then two. Stumbling. Always hating bath time.

It was loud. It tested Lilia’s speed even back then.

But they both adored it.

Lilia prays.

Please. 

It’s too quiet. 

His prayers go unheard. 

Lilia smooths the silk, tucking it close. He didn’t want him to be cold. Lilia moves the gifts lovingly given close to Malleus, knowing how he would have preferred to have them next to him.

Malleus is cold. Too cold.

He stares at the items before him:

Lilia remembers passing by Silver’s room a few days prior. Broken sobs muffled by the door. Lilia hesitated for a moment. Contemplating passing by, letting the boy deal with his grief. No. How could he? When it was restraints and buried feelings that led them all to this situation? 

When Lilia enters the room, it’s to a hunched back and shaking hands. The moon reflects silver strands but what stands out the most is the brown of acorns spread around. Lilia is quick to hug Silver and the boy breaks down in his arms. 

An acorn bracelet. 

To live a long and healthy life.

He remembers watching Sebek when the boy thought he was alone, chipping away at stone and wood.

Over and over.

At every chance he could.

Sebek had chosen to wrought a crest of his own design, to wish his lord happiness and reunion. For him to be surrounded by love.

Lilia watched him silently, supporting him from the shadows. 

Lilia’s eyes blurs as he lays a hand over the plush.

A gargoyle plush.

He had seen it during one of his travels. Had thought of Malleus right away.

Malleus loved gargoyles even from a young age. Lilia recalls the excitement he felt when he gave the young one his present.

Malleus’ smile had been worth it. His smile bright as he hugged the plush close to him until Lilia had called it a gargoyle, then he had pouted and called it a grotesque because, “It had no use.”

Lilia remembers the laugh he gave out then, “Of course it has a purpose, it’s to protect you when I’m not around. He’ll protect you until I arrive, be it from your dreams or anyone until I arrive.”

Malleus had smiled wide with fangs then, cheeks slightly red with childlike joy as he hugged Lilia.

Lilia had thought Malleus had outgrown it. Having not seen it for decades.

What a surprise it had been to find it on his bed. When he had finally, finally, taken the courage to enter his room.

A frail and old thing. Mended over and over. With stitches uneven to expertly sewn. From the nimble hands of a child to that of an adult.

Lilia recalls breaking down right then and there. Clutching the plush to his chest. Rocking back and forth as if he held a child.

His boy. His boy. Where is he now? Why won’t he awaken? Why won’t he answer?

The scent of evergreen was still fresh from where he had buried his head. A plush still in use. Lilia cried til his voice was hoarse.

A journey’s end. 

His end.

Never again would he see that smirk 

Nor calm a storm's anger 

Never again would he be able to pat midnight strands as they looked upon him with fondness.

Never again would he be able to say-

I love you 

Lilia's knees hit the floor.

I love you.

Lilia gasped. 

His breathing coming quicker, uneven. 

Malleus knew.

He had to know.

Right? 

“The Senate! Even Grandmother lied!”

No. Malleus had to have known.

“What dream would you like, Lilia? One with mother and father? One where you live happily with Silver?”

Frame shaking. 

No. 

Did he never say? 

Hands clawed into his face.

No. No. No!

He must have.

He never did.

Lilia dragged his body up, heavier than ever before.

Ignoring the stinging from the cuts he made.

Please.

Body barely holding himself over the one in eternal sleep.

A hand gently cupping a too-cold cheek.

Lilia prays.

The Great Seven.

The Thorn Fairy.

Any Powers That Be.

Please let him hear these words now.

It's too late.

It's too late.

Lilia grits his teeth against the wobble of incoming grief.

Please.

I beg of you.

Let him hear me.

"I love you."

Words spoken in a cracked voice.

"I love you, Malleus."

Lilia sobbed, clutching at the robe beneath him.

Don't take him aw-

"I love you too, Lilia."

He froze.

His heart stopped, and the very blood in his veins froze, but it was the hand on his own that had his gaze shooting up.

Soft green stares back at him as tears fall from one freshly awoken.

A desperate cry with a flurry of movement.

Hands desperately clutching and pulling Malleus to his chest. Ignoring and uncaring of the damage he caused to fine silk clothes.

His Heart.

His Heart Returned.

A wail vibrated the walls alerting the heavens high above.

A sound unheard of for centuries.

True Love brought back a Son to His Father.

Happy 1 Year Anniversary to Baby Malleus hatching and to the love that changed Lilia Vanrouge forever. You both worked so hard and I’m so proud of you two. I love them both so much. True Love My Beloveds. 😭🥳💞

I’ve been working on this project for about a few months on and off (it was fighting me as much as I was fighting it; while half the time sick lolol) 😂😆. It’s a project that I was very passionate about, so I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. This fic started because of the need, the need damnit, I have of Lilia and Malleus to say “I love you” to each other verbally. You know what they say, make your own wishes come true.☺️🥰💞

Shout out to my beta reader, @world-of-hearts, Amy for beta reading this and all the feedback/ideas she indulges me with when I go to her for opinions. Some of these scenes (like Sebek’s gift) were influenced by our talks and picking at each other brains.💕🫶💚🫂

There are deleted scenes, commentary, and some fun facts that I included below that I hope you guys will like 💕🫶 (I haven’t had a fic with deleted scenes, etc. in such a long while, so you know I was going all out with my battle with this story lolol). I am rambling too much lolol. I'm just excited to share this piece. 🌺💕💚

Thank you so much for reading. ☺️🙏💚

Deleted Scenes:

Silver’s Acorn Bracelet:

Lilia shakes and recalls words that would be branded in his mind forever. 

“It was a gift that even Malleus was jealous of.”

“You always asked me if I was envious. What if I am?”

He would have been, wouldn’t he and Lilia was blind to it all. 

An acorn bracelet that could grant long life let alone bring back a loved one. 

A gift given out of love.

A gift that would never have the chance to do as intended. 

(AN: I didn’t keep this scene because I didn’t want the gifts to be ‘useless’ nor did I want the scenes to get to depressing. Because these gifts are given out of love and thought, it wouldn’t feel right for their feelings to reflect bitterness and what could have beens.

And yes if that line, “You always asked me if I was envious. What if I am?” Seemed familiar, it is. It’s from this fic. You can technically think of this fic as a sequel to that one if you want.)

Sebek’s Gargoyle Gift:

Something from Sebek, he had seen Sebek toil away at tools and books during the few times he was relieved of his watch. Chipping at stone till hands are raw and grazed with cuts. Gargoyles. Sebek had chosen to put gargoyles. Something Malleus adored. Gargoyles. Ones who are feared and misunderstood but also strong and protectors. Just like Malleus. Lilia had offered to hang the gargoyles by the sides of the coffin, but Sebek refused. 

He wanted them with his liege, so he wouldn’t be lonely.  Gargoyle who became a grotesque. Purposeless and just for show. Just like him. 

(AN: The same reasoning as Silver’s this was taken out. I didn’t want a gift that given out of love to be seen so negatively even by the characters. After all, it was their last gift to their liege and someone they loved.)

Lilia’s Rose:

His vision blurs as he looks at the flower placed right next to Malleus’s head

A dried-up flower from Malleus-a memory Lilia revisits, magic low, only glimpses of a prideful yet shy smile, presenting him with a rose he had grown. Some petals singed from excitement, but shyly given.

Lilia had kept that flower, preserved it with magic; when his magic started fading so did the spell on the rose but he kept it safe and loved all the same.

(AN: I took this out because Malleus wouldn’t want Lilia to return his flower to him. Young Malleus gave it to him out of love for Lilia. Malleus would want Lilia to keep it and likewise, Lilia wouldn’t be able to part with it. It’s precious to him, just like the Acorn bracelet is.)

Malleus's Hug:

Malleus holding him just as tight, cries muffled against a shoulder that had felt big when he was younger but small to him now.

(AN: I did initially describe Malleus returning the hug but then took it out. This whole story was in Lilia’s POV and I wanted it to stay that way. It felt as if I was breaking the narrative a bit by switching and I didn’t want that. It started with Lilia and ended with Lilia.)

Fun Facts:

Malleus’ Scent

Vetiver, Oak Moss, and Evergreen are the scents described in Malleus’ Valentines 2024 room fragrance. It smells like the forest and while strong, it’s also has gentle tones. It smells like home to Lilia because it’s smells like the forest surrounding the cottage. The woods that protect his home and also the very lands Lilia has always known and grew up on.

It smells like home because it smells like Malleus since he was small to how he’s grown now. To Malleus, Briar Valley has always been his home; but most of all, it was that cottage that he felt the most comfortable and free.

You can read more about the scents and their details here

Lilia’s Heart = Malleus

There’s this special analysis that I will write based on this that I’m really looking forward to releasing. But essentially, as a preview for you all, it’s how Malleus is the reflection of Lilia’s heart. He is Lilia’s heart. Malleus, who is the reason why Lilia finally manifested his UM, is also the reflection of his soul.

You can kind of get the idea of what I mean UM wise through this fic. (Which you can also think of this fic as a sequel to if you choose.)

The Bathing Scene

The bathing scene is inspired from my culture. We bathe our dead loved ones and then wrap them in cloth. Of course in this, Malleus wasn’t wrapped in cloth but he was bathed by a loved one. In my culture, only those close to the one who passed away/family can do this ritual. During this bath, you’re not allowed to cry because that would take away “the purity” of the bath. So that’s why Lilia didn’t allow any of his tears to fall or touch Malleus.

I thought it was very fitting and a perfect way for Lilia to reflect his grief/cherished memories to show. When else would you wish for your prayers to come true the most? Except at this most vulnerable time?

Strikethroughs Texts

I don’t normally use too many strikethrough texts in my fics because I worry if it’s readable/hard to read for the audience. But for this fic, I made an exception.

I felt for Lilia and the story it was needed. My thought process was that the strikethrough texts was a part of Lilia that was keeping him together. A part of him that was in denial but also that part that is the last bit of strength and that inner voice in your head.

I don’t know if I’m explaining it well but when Lilia says, “I love you.” You’ll see the strikethrough texts are gone from then on. In this way, it shows he’s overcome that last bit that held him back. He was finally able to express himself and his love fully which leads to Malleus waking up from his True Love.

“Lilia’s knees hit the floor.”

This was the first scene written and literally everything came after. I had nothing else planned besides this line. This scene was the start. Something about the shock and impact of Lilia falling to his knees in realization. It just…it hits you? You know? Because it’s Lilia. And eventually, I was able to find the right ending to continue from there/end the story. It really is about trusting the process.

[1-800-local-slut]

The Gift That Keeps Giving

Spencer gives you a gift, that almost seems a little bit more like a gift for himself. You're not complaining though.

Spencer Reid x Black! Bombshell! Reader!

Warnings: lingerie, Spencer is not a pervert (he swears!), mentions of sex, fluff, playful teasing but that's really it

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

Spencer Reid is not a pervert. He's not some freak who watches you shower or breaks into your apartment or smells your clothes. He's your boyfriend of six months. You two have a normal, happy and healthy relationship.

You understand him, he understands you. And he tries to understand the insatiable urge you often have to climb him like a tree or ride him until he breaks. You can't really help yourself. And who is Spencer to say no to you? When you two come home from a long day of work and immediately tell him how long you've been waiting all day for him. You slide off your heels, then your stockings and your skirt and your roaming your hands all over him.

So why is he standing there in the Victoria Secret checkout line with six different sets of lingerie in his arms while he tried to avoid eye contact with everyone close by to him. His ears burned and his head throbbed from the smell of perfume in the store. Along with the seductive smell of the perfume he picked out for you.

It was just supposed to be a simple run for Valentine's Day. He picked up chocolates that he got you for your first date, a teddy bear with the same brown hair color as him, and an order for a massive bunch of roses.

No one even expected you two to get together. You are definitely (and no FBI agent should ever say this about a coworker) the most attractive woman in the American government. You knew it, pushing the boundaries against the dress codes at work. Slightly short skirts that hugged your hips, button up shirts that accentuated your curves, pant suits that elongated your legs. Different shapes of glasses to match your various outfits, square glasses for purple pantsuits, and a seductive personality to match that captured Spencer by the heart and never let go.

Spencer, who you loved so deeply that you showed him your vulnerable and sweet center. Your heart that loved reading, that loved sweets and cooking. Your passion for fashion, how much you adore architecture. Loving all parts of life, people from all walks of life. Even accepting Spencer and all his oddities because he accepted you.

How could Spencer not spoil you every now and again? The next stop was supposed to be the bookstore, to get you both a rare edition of a book on the history of Victorian fashion. A book that peaked your special interest. That Spencer has been in an intense bidding war for.

Yet on his way out, he saw that beautiful lingerie. He imagined how you would look, your butterfly locs styled elegantly on your head. Your dark skin would contrast so beautifully against the purely white lingerie. He imagined coming home one day, imagined sharing a home with you one day. Imagined seeing you in the fluffy robe he found that he grabbed without a second thought. Before he knew it, he was wandering through the store. Deals delivered delicious tingles to his debit card.

Who knew Victoria's Secret was so expensive? Spencer didn't. Not until he saw the total. He also didn't feel shame until he was on the checkout line holding massive amounts of what can barely be called clothing considering how little it was going to cover on your body. Eight items, minus six hundred dollars later, he was scampering to his car praying no one who knew him saw him buy all that lingerie.

It's one of those things Spencer really had no need to be embarrassed about. Spencer was buying lingerie for his girlfriend. Partially because he knew you'd fall over yourself in delight from the fabrics and patterns. Also, he just wanted to see you half naked. Or mostly naked with very little fabrics with elaborate designs covering yourself. It didn't matter. You were HIS girlfriend. HIS. He can buy you whatever he desires because guess what? You're HIS girlfriend.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

Spencer has been shot, a lot, but the feeling he felt right now had nothing on blood rushing out of a hole in his neck. His heart was about to pop out of his chest, his hairs stood up on his arms and his stomach churned. What if you hated it?

What if you took offense? How dare he assume that you would just wear lingerie because he asked you too? What if you assumed he was calling you easy?

The shower turned off, saving Spencer from drowning in his thoughts. The bag seemed to glare at spencer from the chair in your bedroom, under his jacket that he threw down once he came over. Burning a hole in his brain, chastising him for being a horndog.

He watched you step out of the bathroom, steam floating out and watching you intently.

"So, I was thinking, tomorrow night we can go see that ballet. I know you think Sleeping Beauty is a little lame, but I really love it, and I would be nice for us to get out. I can get us tickets tonight." You yapped immediately, admiring how beautiful you looked in your natural state. You found your way to your vanity, covered in a plain robe that substituted your regular silk robe that was in the wash. You picked up a vial that contained something creamy that you rubbed over your glowing skin. Still, his gaze was pulled back to the chair.

"Sounds great baby." His eyes still trained on the bag hidden under the brown coat.

"And then, this weekend if we're both off work, there's a place in Clifton Forge that has the most darling market this weekend. It's like a pop-up thing; they sell books and little trinkets. They also have knitted cats. I want a knitted cat by the way." You finished, rubbing cream under your eyes. In the mirror, he missed your sharp eyes catching his eyes locked on something that wasn't you.

His elbows rested on his knees, his voice hitched, and he stared with intent to burn a hole through your nice chair. He kept his eyes on it, like it was going to jump up and expose him. His brows furrowed; would he even be able to hide it from you? Okay, if he just lured you right into his arms, you wouldn't even pay attention to the chair.

And Spencer, so caught up in his thoughts didn't even notice what you were doing. He missed the look of concern, and before he knew it, you were making your way to the container of his sins. Well, the chair.

Your bottom hit the seat, then you felt it. Also heard the sound of the bag crinkle under your back. He was caught. His mouth was dry, his fingers sweaty. Immediately, he looked down at his socks in shame while you reached under your back. Squirming around, you reached for the foreign object stabbing you in the back.

Time slowed, while you pulled the bag out from behind you. The big bag with pink wrapping paper was pulled out and he was ousted. Where was a defense attorney when you needed one?

You held the bag, blinking slowly. First at the bag, then Spencer, back to the bag then to Spencer. Then, after a moment of cold and humiliating silence you spoke.

"Are you cheating on me?" Your voice slid out cold, like you were preparing to assault him with the bag.

"No!" He shot up from the bed defensively, immediately ready to confess. His legs automatically brought him to you, to assuage the fears clouding your mind. His entire body felt like he was being pricked with tiny needles, anxiety flooded his stomach like he needed to urgently go to the bathroom. He would say anything to make sure you knew that wasn't the case. Hell, he'd even say it was his. He would rather you believe that, than have you think he committed the unthinkable. What fool would ever cheat on you? Not Spencer.

"It's for you. I..." Taking a deep breath, he sighed and continued while you looked up at him with searching eyes.

"I was at the mall, and I walked past Victoria's Secret. I saw this one piece; I started thinking about you. One thing led to another and I... spent 600 dollars buying lingerie I wanted to see you wear." The last part, a shamed whisper. He lowered his head and shivered. A blank look stayed on your face, then was replaced by a wicked smile.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you drew closer to him, still holding the evil bag.

"What was that?" You asked, pushing your chest into him. His ears felt so hot. He took a step back and you followed until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, and you were leaning over him.

"I wanted to see you in them." He swallowed thickly, while you lightly poked a finger into his cheek and messed around with him in your own little way of playing with him.

Your eyes softened and you gave him this smile that radiated pure flattery.

"You thought about me?" You asked, your voiced filled with joy at the idea of your boyfriend thinking of you. He nodded, his brown hair slipping a bit and you pushed the loose strand back into place.

"Well...I guess I can't stay mad." Playfully, you shrugged as if you were letting him go this time. You gave Spencer back his personal space, much to his relief. Until he noticed you heading back to the bathroom off your bedroom. Bag still in hand.

"Where are you going?" He asked while his heartbeat slowly returned to normal, and he could no longer hear the blood rushing through his ears.

"To try these on. I can't let you just waste 600 dollars." Then you slipped behind the door and along with you so did Spencer's fears of rejection. What was he even afraid of?

[somnas-writes]

Another thing that makes the straw hats stand out as a crew is that they have snack time.

From what I’ve seen about other pirate crew, they’re usually tight on food. Whether it be rationing or straight up starving, they always have a limit on how much they eat.

But not the straw hats. They have a huge kitchen and dining area. Their cook has specialized menus for each and every person he meets. It’s seen in the way he adapts to feed zoro, who doesn’t eat overly sweet things and which chopper, who does like sweet things. He does all that while also doing his job and making sure they’re all healthy.

A testament to his skills as a cook is just how much the straw hats grew as he began feeding them. Luffy got taller, Usopp and Zoro got more muscle, Namis body began actually filling out, because they all had likely been underweight before or borderline malnourished before.

As a crew, they’re different. They have snack time, everyone gets something catered to them. Even for how much sanji puts in a facade of only doing it for the girls, he still feeds the boys and modifies each serving for them.

Another thing, each crewmate has an area designed for them. Franky specifically designed the ship with them in mind. People he met like, 46 hours before. He synced up to their wave length right on away.

Zoro has the crows nest, Nami has her own office, Robin has a seat on the deck and the library, Usopp has two separate workshops dedicated to him, and of course, Luffy has his special seat on the the figure head of The Thousand Sunny.

They’re a special crew because they know how the others work, they know each other so well that it’s like they’re operating on a higher frequency.

compared to a lot of other crews we see? They’re special, because they have snacktime

[fr04k1e]

GIGIS WORLD AU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AUGH

AAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHH its not even fully done yet i still have like 4 other characters to make but honestly i might scrap or put this project on hiatus i have no motivation to work on it anymore sobs

i will give you guys the ideas i had for the characters i didnt end up making though, and the idea i had for the toon handlers.

Flutter - Gardener, works in the garden and grows/collects seasonings for the kitchen and decoration for the casino customers/staff

R&D - Casino Hosts, working directly with customers to make sure they want to return to the casino and ensuring they have a good experience.

Looey - A comedian/magician on the stage in the disco, a solo preformer. Magician by day and comedian during after hours

Pebble - A security dog working within every part of the casino, with his loud bark he can alert other security of unwanted guests, and using his sharp teeth he can hold them down long enough to deal with them.

Cosmo - A chef in the kitchen, working along with shrimpo. He specializes in pastries, but can also cook other, more healthy foods if needed.

ok thats about it for the toons i didnt end up getting to design. ill ramble more about the actual lore here if anyone cares about that LOL. keep in mind i got like almost nowhere with this so its very VERY vauge and unfinished also im not a good writer whoops

' the basic idea is that the casino had been running fine up untill they had faced a lawsuit, causing them to shut down everything and abandon the casino. Since the toons had been made specifically for the casino they had just been left in there to handle themselves. Eventually, one of the toons had grown curious and decided to tear down one of the machines. After ripping open the back of the machine, black ooze leaked out and covered the bottom of their feet. Not thinking much of it and assuming it was just oil of some kind, they continued, getting the liquid all over their hands and face, along with their legs. After tearing open the machine, they had found little to nothing of interest and left to get themselves cleaned up. However, when they tried to wipe the goo off, it wouldnt budge and instead had covered more of their body. After a short while, they began to feel hollow on the inside and an ache in their bones, what happened afterwards had become contagious and slowly began to infect the whole casino. '

TOON HANDLERS!! they have a whole new purpose here. They work mostly as managers for the toons, each handler has their own line of work and toons to keep track of and train, only 4 have designs tho lol. IGNORE the reindeer names i couldnt think of anything else ok

ok so IN ORDER

Harvey - the bartender, he works with Rodger, Dandy and Sprout. often exhausted, but not rude by any means. mostly quiet and closed off

Prancer - the director, works with Glisten, Poppy, Boxten, Shelly and Looey. a jumpy cheery fella, mostly looking to have fun and trying to be as positive as she can be. bigender monarch

Doner - the (old) director/beauty worker, used to work with Glisten, Poppy, Boxten, Shelly and Teagan, but had been fired after a long time working there due to extreme mistreatment of his toons. although he was closed off, he never seemed to be too angry or aggressive towards other handlers, but when a toon would mess up or act out he would become ruthless without the other handlers knowledge.

Rudolf - the chef, works with Shrimpo, Cosmo and Flutter. a happy and cocky chef who tries his best to make his job entertaining and teaches his toons in more extreme fun ways.

there SHOULDVE been way more but as i said before i dont have motivation to work on this anymore lmao. also glisten canonically has BPD in this my #bpdwarrior

TAG ME IN FANART OR IF YOU DECIDE TO EXTEND THIS AU A LITTLE BIT!! ID LOVE TO SEE IT my twitter is @d1spatches and my tiktok is @0tt3rpaw

[novelmonger]

I wasn't expecting it to take this long, but after a million distractions, I'm back to going through the LotR audio commentaries and taking note of any interesting tidbits I haven't heard before.

Please enjoy my notes on the RotK design team commentary with Richard Taylor, Tania Rodger, Grant Major, Alan Lee, John Howe, Dan Hennah, and Chris Hennah:

They had to make Deagol's ears out of waterproof gelatin rather than latex because he was going to fall in the water, and the normal latex ears would have come off. I guess they must have done the same any other time a Hobbit got submerged, but they didn't say that.

The fish that Gollum eats at the beginning is made from some kind of edible gelatin so he could actually bite into it. They also had another prop fish that wasn't edible that they gave Andy Serkis to keep at the end XD

The little stone hollow thing where Frodo and Sam are sleeping for their first scene in the movie was a set they built with a removable back wall so they could get a camera in to shoot it from the back as well as the front. Why did I never think of that before?

There were a couple of extra shots they needed of Orthanc in the background to finish up the movie, but they hadn't managed to get the footage from the miniatures (and I guess the miniatures were gone by that point? idk). So they took one of the model collectibles Weta had made and took some photos of it out in the parking lot XD

Whoooooaaaa! Okay, so Alan Lee talks about how, in legends, they say that you have to kill a wizard three times for him to stay dead. And Saruman dies "three times" - first he's stabbed, then he's impaled, then he's drowned. So Saruman is dead dead. Dare I say it? This is...I think this is a better death than the one in the book ._.

They even put carvings on the crossbeams underneath the seats of the chairs in Edoras! You are never ever going to see them, but that was their dedication to making everything feel authentic. That's what sets this apart from so many fantasy movies and shows made these days.

Red in the costumes is meant to suggest royalty. That's why Aragorn, Boromir, Theoden, and Theodred all have red in their costumes - as well as Bilbo and Frodo! You're meant to look at someone wearing red and unconsciously think, "there's something regal about them."

John Howe points out that you probably wouldn't ever reforge a sword like they do with Narsil, at least not in the sense of putting the pieces back together, because it wouldn't be as strong as it was originally. (You could melt it down and start over again, of course.) But, he reminds us, these are the Elves, and it's more of a symbolic thing anyway.

The great hall in Minas Tirith was inspired by Charlemagne's chapel (and Byzantine architecture was one of the main influences on the design of Gondor in general).

The statue of the king in Ithilien was made out of polystyrene, which you would think would be pretty light, but it was so huge it was actually very heavy. They had to transport it to the location in three pieces: the base, the body, and the head. And to lift one on top of each other, they had to rig a sort of pulley system over the limb of a tree, using a four-wheel drive truck to pull it. But they discovered that the first truck wasn't getting enough traction, so they hooked a second truck up to it, and ended up pulling the first truck up into the air along with the statue!

They created fourteen new weapons just to put in the background of the armory in the scene where the Witch-King is getting ready for battle @_@

John Howe said that his inspiration for Minas Morgul was...getting his wisdom teeth pulled??? He describes a metal clamp digging into the perfectly healthy enamel of his tooth to pull it out, and draws a parallel to the metal pieces the orcs fitted to the top of the pristine white parapets, staining and violating them. Um...thanks, I could've done without that visual, John.

I can't believe I never thought about this before, but there's a little wooden roof over the pile of wood for the beacon that Pippin lights. The reasoning behind that is you need some kind of cover to keep the wood more or less dry for when it needs to be lit in an emergency. The beacon will burn away the wooden roof, but it can be replaced easily enough, and it's worth it to be able to quickly light the beacon.

A lot of the saddles they used were ordered from the Indian military, because they had a good, old-fashioned sort of look to them. Then they would add onto the saddles with things that would make them look distinctly Rohirric, rather than Indian.

Alan Lee's daughter worked on some of the figures in the doors of Minas Tirith!

John Howe goes off on this whole tangent about how there's no religion or religious structures in Middle-Earth, and why that might be, but the whole time I was just sitting there going, "...have you never read The Silmarillion????"

Because they had to make over a hundred suits of Gondorian armor, other than the hero suits, they couldn't make each one exactly the right size for the man who would wear it, so the casting department had to only get actors within a certain range of size. They also built the suits of armor with sliding pieces, so they could be somewhat fitted to different sizes.

The horses started out as being part of the art department's responsibility, but as time went on, there were just so many horses they had to keep track of (and the various liveries they would have to be fitted out with) that they had to make a separate horse department to oversee it all.

Because so much of the movie was filmed on-location, in some very remote locations, they had to make a sort of caravan of mobile repair stations that they could take with them. They had all the tools and crew necessary on hand wherever they went so they could repair broken props or ripped costumes, reapply makeup for gore and injuries, take nicks out of the edge of weapons.... It was really like moving an army around!

For the dream where the Evenstar breaks, they made a version of it that was five times bigger than normal, out of a very brittle resin. Then they made an oversized section of the floor and dropped it from a great height so it would completely shatter in a dramatic way like that.

Anduril was John Howe's design. He based it on a sword belonging to a friend of his in Germany, which to him is the ideal sword, the most beautiful sword. He also talked a bit about how Men were taller and bigger in the First and Second Ages, so their swords would have been longer.

John Howe: "Why do people criticize Tolkien for not developing his characters sufficiently? I cannot fathom that kind of criticism. I think it's done by people who don't read between the lines."

Richard Taylor said they had a lot of fun gathering up all the skulls after each take in the Paths of the Dead to put back up at the top so they could be poured down again. Apparently Viggo liked to gather them up and try to throw them at the crew members! "Many hours of skullduggery was to be had," as Richard put it XD

Apparently, they'd made dozens of really finely detailed silicone heads to be lobbed over the wall of Minas Tirith, but then all but one of them were stolen! So they had to quickly put together some crude latex ones to use in the shoot instead (one of which the mayor of Wellington threw). They didn't talk about this, but I'm assuming the one good head that was left is the one that gets a close-up. You have to wonder who out there was sitting around with a bunch of highly realistic latex severed heads in his basement or something....

While most of the siege towers are miniatures or CG, they built the top third of one and put it on tracks so they could move it up against the wall. They built the set with breakable ramparts for when the little drawbridge thing crashes down.

They had the same trouble in Minas Tirith that they did in Helm's Deep, with the battering ram being too heavy for the stunties to lift. But they never actually explained how they got around that problem, if it was the same solution or not :/ All they said was that they had replaceable panels in the doors, in case they were damaged by the battering ram.

In order to make Shelob's webs, they had to heat up two polymers and mix them together to make the stringy, sticky material. In order to mix them, they had to be heated up to 220 degrees C, but if they got up to 228 degrees, they would burst into flame @_@ After they were heated and mixed, they would dribble the mixture on top of a vat of water, where it would cool in spiderweb-like shapes. Then they would lift it out on a frame, and they could carefully place it on the set. One time, the polymers did burst into flame, and they were running out of fire extinguishers to put it out! O.O Eventually, they did call the fire department, who said they'd done everything the fire department would have done. They got the fire put out, but it was a nerve-wracking moment, because the room where they were making the webs was connected to the studio, so it could have been disastrous D:

Bernard Shaw apparently got the idea to do that whole bit where he knocks his sword against the row of spears when he saw the collection of spears all lined up in a row in the art department.

The "oil" that Denethor pours over himself and Faramir is a mixture of glycerin and water. (I always wonder about these things, so I'm really glad they mentioned it.)

When they were filming the pyre scene, they had a silicone dummy for Faramir on the burning pyre. Apparently somebody on the crew brought "David Wenham" a cup of coffee over because they thought he'd fallen asleep on the side of the set, only to discover that it was a dummy! XD

The horse rig they made for close-up work of people on horseback got affectionately nicknamed "the Phony Pony." The first day they brought it on set, Peter Jackson got up on it and "rode" the horse, making the whole crew laugh XD

One of the ideas that Peter Jackson came up with for the mumakil in a brainstorming session (which Richard Taylor says he's still not sure if PJ was serious about or not) was that they could suck up several riders in its trunk and then fire them out like bullets. I'm...really glad they didn't go with that, whether PJ was serious or not <_<

Alan Lee says that the first time he saw the dead mumakil that Weta made for the set, the body was hollow, and some of the crew had set up a TV inside it and were watching a rugby game XD

The last miniature they built for LotR was the Minas Tirith docks where the Corsair ships come in. It kept getting put off until almost the end of the shoot, so they only had five days to put it together! @_@

All of the dead horses are fake, of course, so Weta had to make them all. They were made of lightweight material, so each day you'd see the set dressers just kind of casually carrying in a whole dead horse and then picking one up from the battlefield afterwards like it's no big deal. They had to do a lot of repairs to the dead horses, because the legs and ears kept falling off or getting bent the wrong way XD

The stone Watchers in Cirith Ungol have Maori influence in their design. I wish they'd talked about that in more detail, but it was just mentioned in passing.

They were concerned about the various copies of the One Ring being stolen, so they kept it in a lunchbox that was labeled "Screws."

The scene where Frodo and Sam join the orc convoy was filmed on location up on a mountain, so they had to deal with a whole bunch of extras in extensive prosthetics and armor, which would make them sweat while they were moving around, but then when the camera wasn't rolling, it would be a challenge to keep them warm. The way they did most of the orcs was that they wore a rubber mask and then a helmet, and they would need to take them off at regular intervals so the actors could get some air. So in between takes, after the director called, "Cut!" there would also be a cry of, "Heads off!" That meant the dressers would have to rush into the crowd and quickly take off the extras' helmets and masks XD

Because the crew was committed to not damaging any of the flora and fauna in the places where they were filming, even in the location that became the plains of Mordor that Frodo and Sam struggle across, there were little flowers and moss that they wanted to protect (and it was a national park). So they would lay down carpets on the ground for people to walk on, so they wouldn't damage the plant life. I'm sure that made for a strange sight, Frodo and Sam struggling in tattered clothing over rocks and boulders, surrounded by perfectly ordinary rugs XD

To do the decapitation of the Mouth of Sauron, they had a headless dummy sitting there, and Viggo would swipe his sword where the head should be. Then Weta Digital put in the head afterwards.

The lava in Mount Doom was mostly a miniature (except for the set where Sean and Elijah did their part), made from methyl cellulose and other things to make it look like lava. They set it up on a table that they would tilt so it would flow down around the model boulders made from urethane.

Richard Taylor said that, at that time, no one had really done a very good CG bird, so he was especially pleased at how the eagles turned out.

There were about 400 people working in the art department total, and most of them had never worked in the film industry before! @_@

Ngila Dickson's philosophy for the Elves was that none of their "crowns" or headpieces would go upwards, but would fit close around their heads and then go down. That's one of those things I've subconsciously noticed all these years, but never really thought about before.

Apparently, a little bit of the graphite used on Aragorn's armor in the coronation scene kind of puffed out when he and Arwen go in for their kiss, and got on Arwen's dress D: And some well-meaning person tried to rub it off, but only succeeded in spreading it around further, thus ruining the dress. And most of the female characters only had one copy of each costume, because all except for Eowyn don't see battle and thus don't need different versions with varying amounts of wear and tear. They're just made to wear in one or two scenes of them looking pretty and walking through a room. But alas, that lovely green dress was ruined.

They didn't have much time with Sir Ian Holm, so they only had a week to get a mold of his face and make the old-age prosthetics for the Grey Havens. But then word came down that he didn't want to have prosthetics, so they were to just make him look old with makeup. They were really disappointed, but then on the day, Ian Holm saw the prosthetics sitting off in the corner and asked what it was. When they explained, he said it wasn't true, and insisted on them putting the prosthetics on instead.

One thing that was really impressed upon me during this whole commentary (over all three movies) was just how much love and joy all of the crew had for the project. Sometimes you watch a movie or read a book that really means a lot to you, that's changed your life, and you wonder if the people who made it fully grasp what a beautiful thing they've created. These people know. They were fully aware, from start to finish, that they were making something truly great and worthy of praise. And I think that's beautiful.

[freshl6ve]

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒. 𝐒 | 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒

⭑.ᐟ : 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐲. The building, with its sleek design and glass doors, exuded an upscale ambiance. My mind raced with anticipation and anxiety as I made my way to the elevator, punching the button for the floor Chris’ studio resided on.

I had grown concerned about the amount of time he had spent isolated in his studio, pushing himself nonstop without even taking breaks to eat properly.

As the elevator swiftly made its ascent, I leaned against the cool mirrored wall. I glanced down at the display on my phone, my eyes widening at the time. It was well past midnight. A heavy sigh escaped my lips, a mix of worry and disappointment settling on my shoulders.

“He can’t push himself like this,” I muttered to myself in the quiet solitude of the elevator, “Skipping meals, barely sleeping… It’s not healthy.”

Frustration and concern mingled within me, each passing second on the elevator ride felt like an eternity. The quiet hum of the elevator seemed to magnify my anxious thoughts as I silently worried about Chris’ well-being. Every second that passed without a break from his work was another moment he was pushing himself too far, neglecting his own health.

The gentle ding of the elevator brought me back to the present, tearing me away from my worries. The doors opened, revealing the hallway leading to the studio. I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the task ahead.

I straightened my shoulders, gathering the resolve to confront Chris and make him take a break, even if it were just for a few minutes.

I stepped out of the elevator, each step echoing softly against the linoleum floor. The hallway felt endless, my footsteps carrying me closer and closer to his studio. The dim, almost eerie glow from the windows above provided the only illumination in the otherwise dimly lit corridor.

I walked past closed doors and hushed murmurs behind them, my target drawing nearer with every passing second. My heart beat loudly in my chest, anticipation mounting with each step I neared his studio door.

Finally, I reached the door to Chris's studio. The familiar sight of it, with its faint light beneath the door, only amplified my determination to make him pause and remember his well-being. I paused, taking a deep breath to steady my racing heartbeat. With a trembling hand, I softly knocked on the door, trying to gauge if he was even aware of my presence.

Not hearing any response from within, I decided to take a chance. Slowly, I reached for the door knob and gently turned it, pushing the door open just enough for me to slip inside.

The room was dimly lit, casting elongated shadows across the space. The soft glow of his console illuminated the studio, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls.

There he was, Chris, deeply engrossed in his work, sitting in front of his console, seemingly oblivious to the world around him. His eyes were fixed on the screen, fingers dancing across the keyboard in a rhythmic frenzy.

I let out a soft sigh, seeing him so engrossed in his work. I carefully placed the bag of food down on the couch, doing my best not to make a sound. Stepping closer, I moved towards him quietly, my heart heavy with worry and determination.

Slowly, I moved closer and draped my arms around his neck, gently wrapping them around him. The suddenness of the movement startled him a bit, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing.

I whispered softly, my voice barely above a murmur, the words carrying both tenderness and concern. “You should take a break,” I said, the warmth of my breath lightly grazing his cheek. Even in the dim studio, there was no mistaking my identity. The familiarity in his expression changed immediately upon recognizing me.

He turned his head, his eyes locking with mine, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his face as he recognized me. A faint smile played on his lips, “How did you get in here?” he asked, his voice a whisper that somehow sounded louder in the quiet room.

I smiled softly, keeping my arms draped around his neck. “The door wasn't locked,” I whispered back, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

He shook his head, a mix of amusement and exhaustion in his eyes. “You really shouldn't sneak up on me like that,” he admitted, the hint of a smile still lingering on his lips. Despite the tiredness in his voice and the strain evident on his face, there was a spark of amusement and affection.

I leaned against him, my chin resting on his shoulder as I peered at the screen. “Have you even moved from this spot?” I asked, a hint of concern lacing my voice, though it was laced with a gentle tease.

He sighed, rolling his shoulders as his fingers paused momentarily. “I lost track of time,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving the screen. There was a hint of shame in his voice as he realized how long he had been working. I could feel the fatigue radiating off of him, yet he persisted, his passion for music holding him captive.

I leaned a bit closer, my lips brushing softly against the soft skin of his neck, sending shivers down my spine. “Take a break. Please,” I whispered against his neck, my words carrying both a plea and persuasion. My lips lingered gently against him, a silent plea for him to pause and rest.

He let out a soft sigh at the gentle touch of my lips against his neck, the tenderness of my plea settling in his heart. He closed his eyes for a moment, seemingly conflicted between his desire to work and the quiet demand of my plea, a battle of his passions waging within him.

The soft touch of my lips against his neck sparked something that began to overshadow his desire to work. The tension in the air shifted, the vulnerability of the moment mingling with the exhaustion of his work. His resolve began to waver as his senses became acutely aware of my presence, my pleading request lingering in his mind.

My lips continued to move against his neck, tracing a gentle path of kisses. Each touch brought forth a shiver from him, his muscles tensing in response to the sensations. I could feel the conflict within him, the war between his duty to his work and the allure of a different kind of desire taking hold.

As I continued to trail kisses along his neck, I softly whispered against his skin, my words carrying a mix of reassurance and temptation. “You need to take care of yourself, Chris,” I murmured, my lips grazing his collarbone, “You're pushing yourself far too hard.” Each word was a gentle plea, a soft reminder of his well-being amidst the desire that brewed between us.

He let out a soft sigh, but a hint of stubborn resolve lingered, “I'm almost done, I promise. Just a few more minutes,” he whispered back. His words were a weak defense, a faint attempt to hold onto his work, though the wavering tone in his voice betrayed his true exhaustion.

I sighed against his skin, feeling the familiar stubborn streak in his response, “You always say that,” I whispered, my lips lingering against his jawline, the warm brush of my breath creating a faint shiver in him. My words were soft, a reminder of his habit to always push himself further, promising to finish soon, yet never actually allowing himself to take a rest.

As Chris focused on the computer screen, I had an idea, knowing exactly what will make him stop. I moved closer, my voice barely a whisper against his ear, my words carrying a mix of desire and need: “I need you.”

The words hung in the air, their simplicity yet earnestness capturing his attention effortlessly. He froze, his eyes fixed on the screen, the weight of the words sinking in. A soft shiver ran through him, his focus shattered by the undeniable need in my voice, the power of three simple words.

I pulled away from his neck and moved in front of him, my movements slow and almost teasing. I carefully positioned myself, sitting on his lap; the warmth of his body against mine, my eyes meeting his, my hands resting on his chest. As I settled in, I could feel the tension in his muscles.

He couldn't help but feel the allure of my closeness as I settled in his lap. His eyes met mine, the usual focus they held for his work now replaced by a mix of exhaustion and a hint of vulnerability. The weight of my gaze on him made his resolve waver, the intensity of the moment pulling him away from his work and towards me.

As my arms encircled his neck, I felt him tense beneath me. Slowly, softly, I began grinding against him, my moves barely a whisper against his frame. The small, subtle movement ignited a spark of desire within us both, the tension in his body growing more pronounced.

My hands tentatively reached out, caressing Chris’s face, feeling the familiar sharp jawline and gentle curve of his cheeks. “Chris...I’ve missed you so much.”

As my lips brushed against Chris's ear, I whispered, “I've missed your touch, your voice, your everything. It's been so long since I've felt your lips on mine, your hands on my body... I've had to do it all myself, imagining it's you.”

Chris's breath hitched as my words washed over him. “I'm so sorry, baby,” he murmured, his voice laced with guilt. “I've just been so busy in the studio, trying to get this album done.”

“Yet you don't take breaks,” I sighed, my fingers tracing soothing patterns on his chest. “You look so stressed, darling. Let me help you relax, hmm?” I purred, my hips grinding against him once more. “If you'll let me.”

Chris's resolve crumbled as I continued my sensual assault. “Fuck, Y/N...” he groaned, his hands finally coming up to grip my hips. “I can’t, I gotta finish this album.”

“Please, Chris...” I begged, nipping at his earlobe. “Just tonight. Let me remind you of how good it is between us. You need a break, and I need you.” I ground against him again, my body aching with need.

With a low growl, Chris finally succumbed to temptation. His hands tightened on my hips as he pulled me flush against him. “Fuck it,” he muttered, capturing my lips in a searing kiss.

His strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling my hips even closer as I straddled him. He gripped my ass possessively, his fingers kneading the flesh as he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with mine.

I moaned into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his hair as I rocked against him, the friction driving both of us crazy.

Breaking the kiss, I gazed into Chris's eyes with a smoldering look. “Let me take care of you,” I purred, my hands sliding under his shirt to caress the toned muscles beneath. “I want to worship every inch of you.”

Chris's eyes rolled back as I began to worship his body, my hands roaming over his chest and stomach, my lips trailing kisses over his jaw and neck. I reached down and unbuttoned his pants, sliding my hand inside to wrap around his thick, hard length.

Chris hissed through his teeth, his fingers digging into my back as I slowly stroked him. “Y/N... that feels so good, baby,” he panted, his hips bucking against my touch. I grinned mischievously, loving the control I had over him. “Shh, just relax,”

I continued to stroke him slowly, my thumb rubbing against the sensitive head of his cock. Chris threw his head back, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he neared the edge. Just when he seemed about to cum, I stopped, leaving him twitching and aching in my hand.

I slowly lifted the hem of Chris's shirt, revealing his chiseled abs and toned arms. My fingers trailed along his skin, sending shivers down his spine as I exposed more and more of his chest. Finally, I pulled the shirt off completely, tossing it aside to admire his gorgeous physique.

I nuzzled his jaw, my lips tracing a path down to his neck. I sucked gently at his throat, leaving a mark – a claiming mark. Chris groaned, tilting his head to give me better access. “God, Y/N...” he groaned, his hands gripping my thighs.

I marked his neck, his collarbone, and his chest, each love bite eliciting a moan or groan from Chris. His hands roamed over my body, caressing my curves through the thin fabric of my shirt. “Baby...” he panted, “you’re gonna be the death of me..”

I left another mark on his chest, just above his heart. Each mark made Chris groan and flex under me, his body tensing as he tried to rein in his desire.

I smirked, knowing that Chris would never hide these marks. He'd wear them proudly, like badges of honor, showing the world that he belonged to me. The thought made me even more possessive, and I leaned down to place more marks on his collarbone and shoulders.

I ground my hips against him, my core pressing against his clothed erection. The tip of his cock poked out of his pants, rubbing against my stomach as I moved. Chris let out a strangled groan, his hands gripping my thighs tightly as he tried to stay still and let me take control.

I trailed my lips down his chest, kissing each mark I’d left behind. Chris watched me with heavy-lidded eyes, his breath coming in short pants. I kissed lower, my lips brushing against his toned stomach. I knelt before him, pushing his pants down to his thighs.

Chris lifted his hips, allowing me to push his pants down further. His erection sprang out, hard and ready. I wrapped my hand around the base, my thumb and fingers not quite meeting. Chris’s hips bucked forward, his head falling back against the seat as he groaned. “Y/N...”

I licked my lips, admiring his impressive size. Slowly, teasingly, I ran my tongue along the underside of his shaft from base to tip. Chris shuddered, his hands fisting in my hair. I swirled my tongue around the head, tasting the bead of precum at the tip.

I ran my tongue along the prominent veins on Chris's cock, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat in his shaft. His veins throbbed against my tongue, and I could taste the saltiness of his skin. I wrapped my lips around the head, sucking gently as I looked up at Chris's face.

Chris's eyes were closed, his mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. I sucked harder, my lips stretching around his girth. I bobbed my head, taking more of him into my mouth with each pass. My hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with my mouth.

Chris's hand came to my head, his fingers tangling in my hair. He didn't force me down, just guided me gently as his hips thrust up in tiny increments. His breathing grew ragged, his grip on my hair tightening as he neared his release. “Y/N...Baby” he panted, “You can stop...I’m not gonna last...” I hummed around him, my vibrations making Chris groan louder.

I looked up at Chris through my lashes, my eyes watering from the effort of taking him so deep. “I wanna taste all of you” I mumbled, the vibrations pushing him closer to the edge. I wanted to taste him, to swallow every drop. Chris's face contorted, his jaw clenching as he finally let go, spilling into my mouth with a low groan. Chris's eyes locked onto mine as he finally let go.

I pulled back, allowing some of Chris’s release to dribble down my chin. I caught it with my fingers, using it to slick my hand. I stroked him, milking every last drop from him as he twitched in my hand.

Chris let out a shuddering groan, his eyes fluttering closed as his release coated his stomach. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. I admired my handiwork, seeing the satisfied smile on Chris's face as he watched me.

Chris opened his eyes slowly, a chuckle escaping his lips as he looked down at his sticky stomach. “Mmmm, baby...” He let out a shuddering groan, “you're gonna be the death of me.” He looked up at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

I stood up slowly, hovering over Chris's prone form. “Good” I purred, leaning down to capture his lips in a deep, sensual kiss. My hair fell around us like a curtain, cocooning us in our own little world.

Chris's hands slowly snaked up my thighs, over my hips, to the hem of my shirt. He broke the kiss, his eyes locked onto mine as he slowly began to lift my shirt. “I want to see you, baby...all of you.” His voice was low, almost reverent.

I lifted my arms, allowing Chris to pull my shirt up and over my head. He tossed it aside, his eyes devouring the sight of me. He reached out, tracing his fingers over the swell of my breasts, the dip of my waist, and the gentle curve of my hips.

His fingers brushed over my bare breasts, his brows furrowing as he realized I wore no bra. “No bra? You knew I was going to give in didn’t you?” His voice was accusing, but his fingers continued to caress me, his thumbs brushing over my hardened peaks.

I bit my lip, trying to hold back a smile. “Maybe I did,” I admitted, my voice breathy. Chris let out a growl, his hands moving to cup my breasts. He kneaded them gently, his thumbs rolling over my nipples.

“You're so...perfect,” Chris murmured, his eyes locked onto my face. He sat up, wrapping his arms around me as he buried his face between my breasts. He kissed and nuzzled them, his hands roaming over my back and hips.

I tangled my fingers in Chris's hair, holding him close as he worshipped my breasts. His mouth found my nipple, suckling and teasing until I was arching into his touch. “Chris...” I breathed, my head falling back in pleasure.

Chris's hands tightened on me, his lips moving to my other breast. He nipped gently at my hardened peak, soothing it with a suckle. “Mmmm, you like that don’t you?” He asked, his voice muffled against my skin.

His hands slid down to my ass, gripping and kneading the soft flesh. “I'm going to make you feel so good, baby,” Chris promised, his voice low and filled with desire.

Chris's hands slid down to the hem of my sweats. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with determination. “I'm going to make up for all the time I've wasted in here,” he promised, his fingers slowly pushing the fabric down over my hips.

As my sweats pooled around my ankles, Chris eyes roaming over my bare legs. He reached out, hooking his fingers under my underwear and slowly pulling them down. “So beautiful,” he breathed, tossing the underwear aside.

I stepped out of the discarded clothing, standing bare before Chris. He reached out, his hands slowly sliding up my thighs. His touch sent shivers through me, and I bit my lip as his fingers found my center. “So wet...”

Chris groaned, his fingers dipping into my folds. He rubbed slow, circular motions over my clit, his thumb pressing gently against my entrance. “Fuck, you're soaked,” he muttered, his eyes never leaving my face as he continued to tease my pussy.

I swayed on my feet, my knees buckling slightly as pleasure washed over me. Chris's strong arms wrapped around me, supporting me as he continued to play my body like an instrument. “Chris...please,”

“Please what, baby?” Chris asked, his voice low and taunting. His fingers continued their slow torture, never quite giving me what I needed. “Please...touch me...please...” I panted, my nails digging into his shoulders for support. Chris chuckled darkly, “With pleasure.”

Chris stood up, lifting me into his arms and sitting me down on the office chair. He placed my legs over each armrest, spreading me open for him. “Perfect,” he muttered, his eyes roaming over my exposed pussy.

Chris dropped to his knees, his face hovering over my dripping entrance. He looked up at me, his eyes burning with desire. “I'm going to eat this pretty little pussy until you cum all over my face,” he promised before burying his face between my thighs.

His tongue delved into my folds, parting them to taste me fully. He licked and suckled, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place. I writhed on the chair, my hands clutching the armrests as Chris feasted on me like a starving man.

Chris continued his oral assault, his tongue delving deep inside my dripping channel. He licked and sucked, savoring my essence. Two fingers joined his tongue, pumping in and out of my tight heat. He curled them just right, stroking that special spot inside me that made my toes curl.

Chris looked up at me, his eyes locked on mine as he devoured my pussy. I tried to close my legs, but he opened them, keeping his face buried in my folds. I reached down and buried my hand in his hair, trying to pull him away but he only gripped my thighs tighter.

“Chris...Oh god...Chris...” I moaned, my back arching off the chair. His tongue was relentless, his fingers driving me closer and closer to release. “Chris...I'm...I'm going to...” I panted, my hand gripping his hair tighter.

“Not yet,” Chris growled, pulling back just as I was on the verge. I whimpered, my hips bucking forward, needing that last push to send me over the edge. “Please...please, Chris...” I begged, my voice hoarse from moaning.

Chris grinned mischievously, burying his face back between my thighs. His fingers pumped in and out of me, curving upwards to rub that magical spot inside. His mouth latched onto my opening, sucking hard as his fingers worked their magic. “Chris...please...I can't...”

“Shut up and cum,” Chris demanded, his fingers pistoning in and out of me. He added a third finger, stretching me further as he finger-fucked me with ruthless intensity. His mouth never left my pussy, sucking and licking furiously.

I wrapped my hand around Chris's hair, holding on for dear life as he destroyed me with his fingers and mouth. “CHRIS! CHRIS! OH FUCK, CHRIS!” I screamed, my whole body shaking as the pressure built to a breaking point.

“That's it, baby. Cum for me,” Chris encouraged, his fingers curling inside me, pressing hard on that spot. His mouth sealed around my entrance, sucking hard as his fingers pumped in and out.

My entire world narrowed down to the feeling of Chris's fingers and mouth on my pussy. I felt like I was going to pass out from the intensity of it all. “I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING!” I yelled, my legs trembling as my orgasm hit me like a truck.

Chris didn't let up, milking my pussy for every drop of cum as I shook and spasmed in the chair. He finger-fucked me through my entire orgasm, his mouth still sealed around my entrance. When I finally collapsed back in the chair, panting and dripping with sweat, Chris finally pulled away.

“You're fucking delicious,” Chris said, licking his lips. He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking my juices off of them. “I could eat this pussy for hours.” I whimpered, oversensitive from my intense orgasm. Chris just smirked, clearly pleased with himself.

Chris leaned over me, his hands braced on the armrests. He brought his glistening fingers to my mouth, painting my lips with my own essence. “Taste yourself,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. I parted my lips, tasting the evidence of my arousal on his fingers.

Chris leaned in the rest of the way, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into my mouth, exploring every inch as he shared my taste with me. I moaned, my arms wrapping around his neck as we made out hungrily.

Chris scooped me up into his arms, settling back into the chair with me in his lap. He wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me close as we continued to make out passionately. I straddled his legs.

Chris's hands tightened around my waist, pulling me even closer as he trailed kisses along my jawline and down to my neck. I let my head fall back, exposing more of my neck to him. As he kissed and sucked on my neck, I felt his hard length beneath me.

I reached down between our bodies, my fingers wrapping around his thick, hard shaft. I moaned at the feel of him, so hot and heavy in my hand. I notched the head of his erection at my entrance and slowly began to lower myself onto him.

“Oh fuck,” Chris groaned as I sank down onto his cock. I threw my head back with a loud moan as he stretched and filled me completely. “You feel so good around me,” he panted, his hands gripping my hips. I started to move, rolling my hips in a slow grind.

Chris's mouth returned to my neck, his lips and teeth nipping and sucking at my delicate skin. He marked me thoroughly, leaving a trail of love bites down to my collarbone. “Ride me, baby,” he whispered, his hands guiding my hips as I continued to move atop him.

His grip on my hips tightened, and he began to thrust up into me hard and fast, meeting my downward motions with powerful upward jerks. The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the room, punctuated by our labored breaths and moans.

“Fuck yeah, ride my dick just like that,” Chris grunted, his voice rough with lust. “Take it hard, baby, take it deep. You're so fucking tight around me, I can feel every inch of your pussy.” He reached up to pinch and roll my nipples, adding to the intensity.

“Your little cunt is squeezing my dick so tight, I can feel myself hitting your cervix with every thrust,” he whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. “You're gonna make me cum so hard inside you, fill your fucking pussy with my seed.”

“Look at you, taking me so well. Look at how beautifully you're being stretched around me,” he panted. “You're such a good girl, aren't you? Being so good at taking my big, thick cock. But you can take more, can't you, baby?”

Without warning, Chris slammed me down hard onto his lap, fully sheathing himself inside me. I screamed, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I clung to him. “That's it, mark me up,” he growled, his hips bucking upwards as he pounded into me mercilessly.

His hands gripped my ass tightly, lifting and lowering my body onto his lap in quick, brutal movements. The sound of wet, meaty impacts filled the room as he mercilessly drilled up into me, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. “Harder, Chris, please!”

“Gladly,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his pace quickening even more. His powerful arms lifted and dropped my body onto his lap with such force that the chair shook and creaked ominously. Each brutal thrust pushed me higher and higher, my breath coming in short, desperate pants.

“Is this what you wanted, hmm? To make me abandon my album just so I could spend hours buried deep inside you?” He grunted, slamming me down onto him particularly hard. “You're insatiable, you know that? Always begging for more, always needing to be filled.”

“I'm gonna keep pounding into you like this until you forget your own name,” he whispered in my ear, his voice a low, menacing growl. “Until all you can remember is how it feels to have me inside you. Until you're a mindless, quivering mess beneath me.”

With a swift motion, Chris stood, still buried deep inside me. He carried me to his large desk and swept his arms across its surface, sending recording equipment and papers flying to the floor with a single, powerful swing.

“Chris, your equipment!” I gasped, concerned for his expensive gear. He silenced me with a searing kiss, his hands gripping my bottom tightly as he continued to thrust into me. “Forget about it,” he rasped, “Right now, the only thing that matters is you.”

His hands gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as he powered into me, his hips slamming against mine with brutal force. The solid wooden desk shook and groaned beneath us, mirroring the sounds of our united bodies. “Chris, it's too much!”

“Take it,” he snarled, his voice barely recognizable. “You can take more. You can take everything I give you.” His hands slid under my thighs, tilting my hips to accept his merciless rhythm. “And you will.”

My fingers scrambled for purchase on the polished surface of the desk as he mercilessly drove into me, again and again. His breath came in hot, heavy pants against my neck, his teeth sinking into my shoulder as he growled.

“Come on baby, don't hold back. Let me hear those sweet moans,” he urged, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust. “The studio's soundproof - no one will hear you scream my name as I fuck you senseless.”

I threw my head back, a loud, uninhibited moan echoing through the soundproofed room. “C-Chris!” I cried out, my nails raking down his back as he continued to pound into me with relentless intensity.

His response was a guttural groan, his pace quickening as my walls tightened around him. “Good. Louder,” he urged, his hands sliding up my body to palm my breasts. His thumbs strummed over my hardened peaks, drawing another loud, desperate moan from my lips. “Again.”

“CHRIS!” I screamed, my voice hoarse from the sheer volume of my cries. The sound of wet, slapng flesh filled the room, mingling with our labored breaths and my ear-piercing moans.

With a swift motion, Chris spun me around, bending me over his desk. My palms pressed flat against the cool wood as he kicked my legs apart, positioning himself behind me. “Keep screaming for me, baby,” he commanded, lining himself up with my entrance. “Let me hear how much you love this.”

His large hands gripped my hips, pulling me back as he surged forward, filling me to the brim. “Oh GOD, Chris!” I shrieked, my back arching as he set a brutal pace, slamming into me from behind.

“Louder, baby. Tell me who's making you feel this way,” he growled, his fingers digging into my flesh as he increased his tempo. The desk shook violently beneath us, papers scattering to the floor as he drilled into me with unbridled passion.

“IT'S YOU, CHRIS! ONLY YOU!” I practically screamed, my voice raw and desperate. Tears of ecstasy streamed down my face as he hit that perfect spot inside me over and over again. My inner walls fluttered around his thickness, drawing him in deeper with each thrust.

His answer was a feral grunt, his hips snapping against my ass with reckless abandon. The desk creaked ominously, on the verge of collapse as Chris fucked me with primal intensity. “Fuck, you're so tight,” he panted, his breath hot against my back. “So fucking tight.”

As he fucked me, Chris reached for his phone on his desk, pressing a button to record our sounds. He couldn't resist the opportunity to capture my raw, uninhibited moans to add to one of his songs in the future. The thought only spurred him on, his thrusts becoming even more brutal.

Blissfully unaware of his little recording session, I was lost to the world, my existence narrowed down to the point where our bodies joined. His large hands roamed my ass, squeezing and kneading my flesh before delivering a stinging slap. “Chris!”

Satisfied with the snippet he'd captured, Chris hit stop and tossed his phone aside. He sank back into his chair, pulling me with him so that I straddled his lap. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me up and down on his lap as he continued to stretch me wide open.

I gripped the armrest tightly, my fingers turning white as I lifted myself up and down on his lap, impaling myself on his thick hardness. His broad chest pressed against my back, his hands slowly sliding up my torso to palm my breasts.

He toyed with my peaks, pinching and rolling them between his fingers as I rode him harder, my inner muscles clenching around his shaft. “That's it, baby,” he encouraged, his hot breath washing over my neck. “Ride me just like that.”

The wet sounds of our coupling filled the room as I bounced on his lap, my ass slapping against his thighs with each downward motion. Chris's fingers sank into the flesh of my breasts, kneading the soft mounds as he rocked his hips to meet my thrusts.

One hand continued to worship my breast, while the other slid down my body, seeking out my most sensitive spot. His calloused fingertips strummed over my swollen bud, drawing a loud, keening cry from my lips.

My whimpering moans filled the room as Chris's fingers worked my clit in time with my rides, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my trembling body. “Oh god, oh god, oh god!” I chanted, my vision blurring as the edges of my control began to fray.

His long, skilled fingers danced across my sensitive nub, spreading me open even wider as he sought to drive me mad with pleasure. The sensation of his thick digits rubbing against my inner walls and his thumb pressing against my clit was too much for my overwhelmed senses.

“Not yet,” he whispered in my ear, his voice low and commanding. “Hold it back for me a little longer.” His fingers continued to play me like an instrument, coaxing more needy whimpers and desperate pleas from my lips.

Leaning forward, he wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me off of him, carrying me the short distance to his desk. He sat me down on the edge and stepped between my legs, pushing back inside me with one long, forceful thrust.

His hands gripped my thighs, spreading me wide as he drove in deep, the angle allowing him to reach even higher inside me. Our eyes locked as he began to move, the heat in his gaze scorching me from the inside out. “Look at me, Baby,” he rasped.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from his, drowning in the intensity burning there. My nails dug into his shoulders as I held on for dear life, my body coiling tighter and tighter. “I'm so close,” I whimpered, my hips rolling to meet his increasingly powerful thrusts.

Chris pulled me into his chest, our faces pressed together as he continued to pound into me. His arms wrapped around my waist, holding me close as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. The desk shook beneath us as he fucked me with reckless abandon, his breath hot against my skin.

My hands slid down his back, fingers curling to rake down his back in sharp, stinging lines. Chris hissed, the sound of his breath against my ear sending a fresh wave of heat pooling between my thighs. “Cum for me,” he rasped, his lips brushing against mine.

As our lips met, my entire body convulsed, orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave. I jerked my head back, breaking the kiss as a scream of ecstasy tore from my throat. My pussy clenched around Chris's cock, Milking him for all he was worth as my climax seized me completely.

“AHHH!!! OH GOD, OH FUCK, CHRIS!!!” I wailed, my voice echoing through the room as my vision went white. Chris's mouth opened in a silent scream, his face contorting in pure, unadulterated bliss as he emptied himself inside me.

Chris collapsed against me, his sweat-slicked body draping over mine as he struggled to catch his breath. He rested his head in the crook of my neck, his chest heaving against my own as the last tremors of our shared climax rolled through us.

As our bodies began to still, our combined release trickled down my thighs to join the growing puddle on the floor beneath us. Our ragged breaths filled the room, mingling with the soft sounds of our labored pants as we both tried to regain some semblance of control over our bodies.

I could feel Chris slowly softening inside me, his once rigid member gradually losing its firmness as the afterglow of our passionate lovemaking began to fade. He shifted slightly, nuzzling into the sweat-dampened skin of my neck as he fought to steady his breathing.

His lips ghosted over my neck, placing a soft, gentle kiss just behind my ear before he began to trail more of them down the length of my throat. His body was heavy against mine, but I reveled in his weight, relishing the feel of him still deep within me.

“I needed that so much,” Chris murmured against my skin, his voice barely above a whisper. His arms tightened around me, pulling me even closer as his kisses continued to pepper my neck and shoulders.

I let out a content sigh, tilting my head to give him better access. “Me too,” I breathed, my own voice hoarse from our passionate cries. His hands began to roam over my body, caressing my curves with a tenderness that belied the fierce passion we had just shared.

Chris shifted his head slightly, bringing his lips tantalizingly close to mine until they hovered mere millimeters apart. The warmth of his breath mingled with my own, creating an electric tension between us. His eyes glimmered with affection and lingering desire as he gazed into my eyes.

I reached up, threading my fingers through his damp, messy hair as I studied his face. I loved how he always looked a little undone after we fuck, his usual neat appearance replaced by a charmingly rumpled state.

Even disheveled and sated, Chris looked perfect to me. His features were soft with post-coital relaxation, his eyes still shining with warmth and affection. I loved him like this, all rumpled and mine.

Chris couldn't help but smirk slightly as he felt me admiring his post-coital disarray. “Like what you see?” he teased lightly, his voice still husky from exertion.

I couldn't but let out a small, fond laugh at his playful comment. “Always,” I confessed, gently mussing his hair further just to watch it fall endearingly across his forehead.

Chris chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazed up at me adoringly. He lifted a hand to cover mine, still tangled in his hair, and brought it to his lips to press a tender kiss to my palm.

Chris leaned in, closing the remaining distance between us until his lips met mine in a slow, deep kiss. It was different from the heated, urgent kisses we had shared earlier - this one was softer, more languid, a gentle exploration rather than a desperate claiming.

As the kiss gradually ended, Chris rested his forehead against mine, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “We should probably get cleaned up,” he murmured, his voice still low and intimate.

“Turns out the studio wasn’t as soundproof as we thought,” Chris admitted wryly a few days later, as we sat on his couch, my head resting in his lap while he absently toyed with my hair.

I sat up slightly, my brows furrowing with worry as I looked up at him. “What do you mean?” Chris let out a low chuckle and reached into his pocket to pull out a crumpled piece of paper, which he unfolded and handed to me.

I scanned the note, my eyes widening as I read the not-so-subtle complaint. “...disturbing the peace with loud... noises...?” I quoted, my voice trailing off embarrassedly. Chris merely grinned, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“You knew, didn’t you?” I accused, my cheeks flaming as I tossed the paper back at him. He caught it deftly, still smirking. I blushed furiously, burying my face in my hands.

“Chris!” He laughed, pulling my hands away from my face gently. “I knew the studio was supposed to be soundproof,” he admitted, still grinning. “But I had no idea you could be so... vocal.”

I glared at him, trying to maintain my indignation despite the warmth spreading through my chest at his teasing. “Vocal? I’ll have you know, I was being perfectly reasonable in my reaction!” Chris chuckled, setting the paper aside and turning his attention back to me. “Reasonable?”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek as he turned my face up to meet his gaze. “Baby, you were practically screaming at the top of your lungs. I think ‘reasonable’ is stretching it a bit.” I rolled my eyes, a small sigh escaping me as I leaned into his touch.

“Mmm, you were just taking it so well,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, sultry register that always made my insides quiver. His face inched closer to mine, his breath warm against my lips. “Like a good girl.”

Chris cupped my face tenderly with one large hand, his thumb caressing my cheekbone as he held me still. Then, ever so slowly, he closed the remaining distance between us until his lips brushed against mine in the gentlest of kisses.

As Chris pulled away, he took my hand and led me over to his desk. “I want to play you something,” he said with a mischievous grin. He sat down on the chair and patted his lap, inviting me to join.

I hesitated briefly before acquiescing, settling myself onto his firm thighs. Chris wrapped one arm around my waist. He pulled up the music production software on his computer and hit play, filling the room with sensual beats and his husky vocals. As I listened closely, my eyes widened in shock.

“Oh my god, Chris!” I squeaked, my cheeks flaming red as I recognized my own voice woven into the song. My breathy moans, my soft gasps, my cries of his name – all of them were sampled throughout the track.

“How did you even mange to capture that?” Chris grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned back in his chair. “When I had you bent over the desk, my phone was right next to you,” he explained, his smirk growing wider. “I recorded a little something while I was inside you.”

Chris leaned in, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss. “Next time,” he murmured against my mouth, “we should probably try to keep it down, at least a little. Unless you like the idea of me sharing more of your... vocal talents with the world.”

A/N: THANK YOU FOR 700 MILLION FOLLOWERS!!!

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── .✦ MASTER—LIST ⭑𓂃

[yourstrulyrani]

reader x ghost except reader is middle eastern and kinda self conscious of how her arms are lowkey as hairy as his and thinks shes “less feminine” for it (im projecting)

simon riley x sergeant/woc!reader summary: you hate your arm hair amongst other things, but simon couldn't care less. & a little banter about colonizing w/ simon bc he's a british babe LMAO a/n: OMG YES PLEASE I'M PAKISTANI AND I HAVE ARM HAIR SO THIS SPOKE TO ME OMGGGG YESSSSSSSS PLEASEEEE i love your mind. i had so much fun writing this btw.

If Simon Riley was given the chance to describe you, "unfeminine" wouldn't be on the list. You thought otherwise, however.

"I mean look at this, LT. I have as much arm hair as you at this point." You huffed in frustration. You were in the fitness center on the treadmill, trousers and short-sleeved shirt showcasing your arms. You knew you had hair. You didn't have to use eyebrow pencil because your eyebrows were already thick enough. You didn't have to use mascara all the time because your eyelashes were long enough. You barely even used any hair products because thank goodness the hair on your head was healthy enough.

You loved your hair until it came down to your arms. You extend your arms out in front of you, showing your lieutenant the hair growth on them. He was on the treadmill beside you running. While you huffed in frustration at your physical appearance, he was huffing because of physical exertion.

He slows down the speed to a brisk walk before talking to you. "It's just hair, you know." He shrugs his shoulders, "Normal."

You squint at the tall man in annoyance. Why is he so nonchalant about this? "Easy for you to say." You bite back. "As a woman I shouldn't have this much hair on my arms. It's weird and not even feminine."

"Said who?" He tilts his head. If he had the courage. (which he still has yet to build up even after working with you for several years) he would take you by the arms, pin them over your head, and make out with every inch of your body until he gets in between your legs. Hopefully then, you would feel like a woman. tell you how beautiful you were. That you were, to him, the epitome of being a woman. You were strong-willed yet kind, fierce yet ethical, and had a job that most men would rather scurry away from than ever think of pursuing.

"Said the models on social media." You let out a breathless exhale. "Said the girls on Youtube who give you 'tips and tricks' on how to get a guy."

"The only thing that isn't feminine are the women telling you that you aren't feminine because of some hair, Sarge. Hair is hair. Never hurt anyone." You give him a glance. Most men wouldn't say that. They'd tell you to shave or wax it off. But not Ghost, you can see the truth in his eyes. He truly doesn't mind.

He continues on, "Also, it's normal because of your genetics. People in the Middle East, Asia, and generally warmer areas are genetically designed to have more body hair because it provides thermal protection. Your ancestors had it so it was just something that has passed on." Ghost continued on his reassurance that your hair was perfectly normal.

You never thought about it that way. You never saw it in that light, that it was simply for your protection. You then thought about the other things you thought were weird, like your nose. You knew that a nose job wouldn't hurt, but some of your ancestors had this same nose.

What would you gain if you altered a piece of their history that you literally, physically, had on you? You wouldn't be any better than the colonizers who stole from them.

You decided to banter, "That's rich coming from a Brit you know. The only reason so many countries have an independence day is because of Britain."

Ghost lets out a throaty chuckle, "I'll take care of the reparations then, Sarge." Ghost takes a look at your arms. Something human and feminine. "I meant what I said though, about the whole arm hair thing. Hair is normal. Don't be ashamed of something you have because someone told you otherwise." He paused, taking a look at your sweat-glistened body. "You're perfect the way you were made." The sentence came out in a mutter, fearing that it was too intimate for a man like him. He hoped you didn't hear it either, which was a success.

You gave Simon a warm smile, "I know you mean it, LT."

"Simon works too you know," he offers you his name.

"I know you mean it, Simon." His name escaped your lips in a pant because of your current cardio session on the treadmill and immediately Simon felt his shorts grow tighter in the middle. He tried to sneakily adjust himself by tugging at the ends of them, his body lowering and knees pointing outwards for a moment to adjust.

If Simon Riley was given the chance to describe you, "unfeminine" wouldn't be on the list. There would be feminine. Amongst dangerous, sweet, desirable, lovable, cherished, and so close to ruin yet so far to even have.

Sometimes as a white guy, specifically British guy, Simon would never think of pursuing a woman like you. Not in the sense that you were unworthy, but that you needed a man who was worthy of you. Your culture was rich and he was one of many witnesses of it. He saw the flag on the right shoulder of your uniform that wasn't the American or the Union Flag. He saw the way your lips would curl to speak your language that wasn't English. He saw you in the kitchen on base in the middle of the night cooking alongside little steel tins of various spices. He heard the way your accent coated your tongue when you spoke English. You were a woman to be respected. A woman of so much history. A woman whose ancestors fought his own people in resilience. Simon, because of this, saw himself to be a man with such little potential.

The professionalism between a sergeant and their lieutenant was a dynamic Simon never thought about sabotaging until you became that special sergeant.

(i need me a british man so he can pay his reparations by going down on me and licking my cl— OMG WHO SAID THAT)

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter twelve:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: shitty family.

➴ word count: 4.7k

💌 from me to you: have a nice reading loves <3

౨ৎ

2024, JUNE.

“I HATE just looking at it,” you say, making Victoria laugh. “I mean, I really liked it at first but now it makes me sick.”

It was finally the day of your mom’s retirement gala, and all you wanted to do was stay at home with Quinn and Bella, watching a movie and drinking wine.

But you had made a promise, and hell would freeze before you break one. If your mom wanted you there, you would be there, even if the thought of putting on that dress made you want to puke all over it.

“I mean, you don’t have to wear it…” Victoria says, sounding mischievous. You raise your brow at her.

“What do you mean?” You laugh, closing your eyes as the makeup artist your mom had sent to your house spread the glittery eyeshadow over your eyelids. “I just told you, my mom bought this last month and basically demanded I wear it.”

“But she’s not here, is she?” She asks, looking around the packed room, full of people: the makeup artist, the hair stylist and the girl responsible for your clothes. They all stared at you scaredly, probably not wanting to piss off your mom, the great, famous Jessica Carter. “I don’t see her.”

You sigh. “Victoria—”

“I brought you something else. And if you don’t like it, then you can wear that one your mom bought you.” She grabs a huge, ginormous bag, placing it carefully on the bed. You ask her to open it, since you couldn’t, and she does as you say.

The most beautiful orange dress you had ever seen lays on your bed and you smile at Victoria, finally happy with going to the dinner. If it was going to be the last time you saw your family, then at least you’d look great.

“Isn’t it so beautiful?” She smiles, carefully running her fingers through the dress’ fabric. “I immediately thought of you when one of our designers costum-made this.”

“It’s gorgeous,” you say, imagining yourself inside that dress.

It’d for sure piss your mom off, but at this point, you had already understood that anything you did would eventually make her upset.

This last week has been both a dream and a nightmare. Quinn stayed with you for two days before he had to travel for work again, and it’d been like a fantasy: he would wake up earlier than you, cook you a healthy breakfast, and help you eat; bite after bite, praise after praise, kiss after kiss, he helped you restart your eating routine again.

After throwing all of your pills— and your prescription— away, he tried his best to be with you, even during the hardest moments, when your body would have some kind of withdrawal, with persistent headaches, nausea and extreme fatigue. He took care of you so well, like no one had done before, and it only made you realize how deep your love for him was.

“So it’s settled, then,” Victoria calls the other two girls standing in the corner of your room, asking them to help you get dressed.

The dress was long, so long it occupied the entire room, and you were sure that if Bella wasn’t already at Mrs. Fernandez home, she’d be lost between the orange fabric, even if she was a big girl herself. The corset squeezed your chest lightly, nothing like the dress your mom had bought for you, and your white heels held your feet comfortably.

While you got your hair done, you stared at your phone’s screen, tuning out of Victoria’s yapping session and thinking of Quinn, and if he was well. Now that you had confessed to yourself— and Quinn— that you wanted, needed him, it seemed like spending time away from him hurt you more and more.

He had texted you earlier that day, saying that he missed you a lot, and asked for pictures of the things you ate during the day, making you roll your eyes and blush at the same time, not holding back the smile plastered on your face.

Even if you feared for what your mom could do once she realized that you would do everything in your power to stop yourself from submitting to her absurd, evil requests, you could now see that you weren’t alone, and you would never be, as long as the Hughes walked on the same planet as you.

Which reminded you that you had to call Luke and apologize to him, because even though it had hurt you to hear the things he’d said, you knew that part of your awakening was thanks to him, and for that you’ll forever be grateful.

“Okay, let’s go get you inside that car,” Victoria says before you manage to get up, trying to move around with all that fabric around you.

Getting to the event had been a lot harder than expected. You had worn bigger, larger dresses before, much weirder than the one you’re wearing right now, but you had the right transport for it. Right now, the only car you had was a limousine and you had to make it work.

You felt like Cinderella inside the pumpkin carriage, but you preferred walking around with this amount of fabric than putting on that dress that your mom had chosen for you.

The cameras were all directed at you as soon as you walked out of the car and got to the red carpet. People were shouting your name here and there, and since it’s been a while since the last time you actually went to a public event like this, your head was starting to get dizzy with all the overwhelming attention.

You smiled at the pictures, but didn’t go to any of the interviewers— you weren’t in the mood for questions, and even though people expected you to talk with them, you just weren’t feeling comfortable.

You walked inside after posing for some more pictures, feeling a rush of anxiety run through your body, because you knew you were about to face your mother’s wrath. But Quinn and Victoria were right. You had to stop this abusive, toxic cycle between the two of you.

Even though sometimes it was hard to remind yourself that you’re not the one in the wrong in this.

You greeted some of the other celebrities there, the space filled with people who had once worked with your mom too. It hadn’t been hard to find her, of course. All Jessica Carter ever wants is the spotlight on her, so when you found her talking to Kirk Pickersgill and Stephen Wong, the founders of Greta Constantine, you knew exactly what you had to do.

“My, oh my, aren’t you a beautiful sight?” Kirk smiles at you, giving you a brief kiss on your cheek, making you smile at him. “Look at this dress, Wong, look at her!”

“It’s a beautiful dress indeed,” Stephen agrees, holding his hands together behind his back.

“Great choice, my love,” your mom says, and your smile falters for just a second, enough for your mom to understand that you had picked up on her subtle message. “Is that Versace?”

“No,” you say, patting your skirt. “It’s custom-made Rami Kadi, actually.”

“So beautiful, Madison, I just know you’re going to blow people’s minds with this one,” Wong smiles at you and before you can answer, Kirk whistles while looking at his phone.

“She already did,” he laughs, and you frown at him, confused.

“What do you mean?” you ask, and he flips his phone, showing you his phone screen.

“You’re trending on Twitter, babe,” he eagerly says, and Wong gasps beside him. “People are crazy over you. And your dress. If you ever think of leaving La Vie en Rose just know that there’s always a place for you at Greta.”

Wong shakes his head. “We’d love to have you there.”

“Well, unfortunately, she’s going back to Los Angeles in a few months, so I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” your mom jumps in, wrapping her hands affectionately around your shoulders and smiling at the two men in front of you. “And, oh my, look at the time,” she fake sighs, looking at the watch on her wrist. “We better get going if we want to eat dinner before my speech.”

Wong and Pickersgill nod awkwardly in front of you, leaving after giving you another kiss on the cheek and walking their way to their table. You walk with your mom by your side, both with fake smiles plastered on your faces, greeting people on your way to your table. You could tell she was upset by the fact that people were complimenting you and your dress, but you kept your chin up either way.

By the side of the table reserved for you and your family stood your dad and your brother, both wearing expensive tuxedos and looking like twins. You nodded at them, watching as the same fake smile that decorated your face, decorated theirs as well.

“Madison,” your dad says, his smile getting wider when he notices the photographer behind you. “You look well.”

Well wasn’t exactly the word you’d use to describe yourself at the moment, but you smiled nonetheless.

“Can I get a family picture?” The photographer asks, and you all quickly move so he can get a picture of all four of you together, smiling like you were the most perfect family in the entire world, just like your parents wanted people to believe. “Nice, nice, thank you.”

“Why aren’t you wearing the dress I chose for you?” Your mom hisses through her teeth, not letting her smile fall from her face.

“I didn’t like it,” you simply say, even if it weren’t entirely true. But every time you look at the expensive, black dress inside your closet, you remind yourself of the awful month you didn’t eat just so you could look good in a dress you didn’t even like that much, just for your mom to finally love you. “Victoria chose this one for me instead.”

“This is unacceptable,” she fake laughs, pretending that the conversation she was having with you was nothing more than a cute, loving mom and daughter moment. “It’s ridiculous—”

“You look gorgeous, baby.”

You and your family turned your head to the side, watching as Quinn stood there, looking close to perfect with his black two piece suit and slicked back hair.

Your face lit up like the Fourth of July, and you smiled at him, blushing with his compliment. “Quinn.”

“Hi, baby,” he smiles at you, stepping closer. “Mr. and Mrs. Carter,” he nods at your parents. “Peter.”

Your brother extends your hand at him, and so does your dad, but it’s clear that they’re uncomfortable. Not as much as your mom, though, who looked like those angry cartoon characters.

“It’s nice to see you, but what are you doing here?” She hisses. “Haven’t you both done enough already? People are talking and taking pictures of you, you must be all over social media by now, what are you—”

“With all due respect, ma’am,” Quinn wraps his hands around your waist, holding you close to him, in front of everyone. The smile on your lips couldn’t get any bigger. “What Madison and I do is none of your business.”

“Watch it, boy. You’re talking to my wife, and you know who I am.” You dad says, smiling afterwards to prevent people from thinking that he was anything other than the perfect father.

“I’m not a boy and frankly, James, we both know that if I were to care about your opinion, I wouldn’t be the Canucks’ captain today.”

Your dad’s face gets red with anger but he doesn’t say anything, choosing to stay quiet for once.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, smiling at how Quinn frowned at your dress, because he couldn’t sit closer to you with that much fabric around you.

“Victoria helped me out,” he smirks. “Did you really think I’d let you come here alone?”

You roll your eyes, smiling still. “You’ve never been to a fashion dinner before. And I’m used to coming alone,” you shrug. “You’re aware that people will… know. Right?”

“I don’t mind it. Do you?”

You looked at him with shiny, happy eyes, before kissing his lips softly and gently, right there, for everyone— your parents and your brother included— to see. Quinn kissed you back just as gently, holding the back of your neck carefully, not wanting to ruin any of your clothing or makeup or hair.

It felt nice not to care for once in your life.

౨ৎ

maddiecarter_updates

Vancouver, BC

liked by nickharris_img and others.

maddiecarter_updates Madison has arrived at her mom’s (Jessica Carter) retirement gala at Fashion, in Vancouver 😍 She looks absolutely amazing! (edit: @nickharris_img liked!!)

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user1 MY WIFE RIGHT THERE

user2 i still prefer the pink dress she wore at the Cannes festival but this one also eaaaats

user3 looking like a goddess omg i need her

user4 why is no one talking about quinn hughes being there AND the pictures they took of the two of them together????

maddiecarter_updates user4 As we always say, we like to respect Madison’s privacy. If she’s dating Quinn Hughes, then we will wait until she confirms it. We can’t assume things just because we’ve seen pictures so let’s just respect her time and privacy ☺️

user5 she looks so damn fine

user6 the event ended a few hours ago does anyone know why she hadn’t posted anything about it yet???

user7 user6 i was just wondering the same thing bc she usually posts pictures immediately after 💭

_quinnhughes

Vancouver, BC

liked by jackhughes, canucks, vic.alonso and 381,991 others.

_quinnhughes

View all 1,209 comments

madisoncarter i love you

user1 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

maddiecarter_updates ????? ok

maddiecarter_updates Now we’re allowed to freak out 🙈

user2 maddiecarter_updates OANSOWNXOANALS

user3 maddiecarter_updates LAKAKANAMD!./!!/!/!:!;

user4 maddiecarter_updates SHSKDMDKIWWOOWKKFBN_._.__.\

maddiecarter_updates user2 user3 user4 oh-

bboeser Ouuhuu 😎😎😜😜

canucks She would look gorgeous in blue 💙

njdevils canucks No she wouldn’t ❤️

user5 njdevils ???😭😭 Help

user6 Average no caption Hughes post

jackhughes …why was i the last one to know about this

conor.garland8 Oh captain my captain

౨ৎ

“THOSE PLATES aren’t going to get any straighter, baby,” Quinn laughs behind you, bringing your body closer to his with his hands on your waist.

You bite your lip, feeling his warm hands all over your tummy. “Stop trying to distract me, you’re supposed to be taking care of the food.”

“My bad, I thought you were the food.” He says, before plastering a wet, loud kiss on your cheek.

“Quinn, stop! Your family’s going to be here at any second, and I don’t want them to find you with your hand on my boobs.” you laugh, slapping his hand away.

“I wasn’t even going to do that, but fine,” he mumbles before turning you around, making you face him. “You don’t have to be nervous, baby. They’ve known you for literally half of your life.”

“Yeah, but I was just a friend. And now I’m dating you.”

He raises his eyebrow, a playful chuckle leaving his lips. “Oh? We’re dating? Since when?”

“You know what I mean,” you feel your cheeks getting warm. “It’s going to be weird. Especially with how I left things with Luke that night,” you cover your face with your hands, sighting. “God, I hope he doesn’t hate me.”

“What did I say about always thinking the worst about everything?” he removes your hands from your face, kissing them afterwards. “And I know Lukey probably acted like a douchebag that night, too. He isn’t exactly the most tender person ever.”

“Still, he was right,” you kiss his cheeks, detaching yourself from his hold before looking at the dinner table again. “Hope he forgives me.”

“He will, sweets, I promise.”

It was almost the end of June, and you had just started taking care of yourself again. Quinn suggested that you should see a professional, to help you deal with the hardest days, and that’s exactly what you did. You have meetings with a therapist called Emma once a week, and even though you feel like nothing’s changed yet, it’s nice to have someone else to talk to, and not worry about whether you’re dumping your problems on them or not.

You and Quinn were also doing fine, baby steps helping you both find your path together. You still had your doubts, and even though you wanted to ruin away sometimes and never look back, you knew you’d always end up coming back to him.

You hoped and prayed everyday that you’d get to be the one who’s going to keep him for life.

The doorbell rang and Bella ran to the door, Quinn right behind her, while you tried to unwrinkle your dress for the nth time.

It’s fine, you kept telling yourself, They’ve known you since you were a child, you’ll be fine.

“Maddie,” you hear Jack’s loud voice before you turn around, smiling when you feel his arms around you. “Hey.”

“Hey, Rowdy,” you kiss his cheek. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. It’s summer, fucking finally.” He groans, letting go of you and making his way to the kitchen, talking about grabbing a beer for himself.

You stare at Ellen, Jim and Luke as they all hug Quinn and pet Bella, before moving back to you.

“Hi, there, darling. You look stunning,” Ellen hugs you tight, her blonde hair touching your face. “Thanks for having us. We missed you and Quinny.”

“Hi,” Jim briefly hugs you, looking like he always did: shy.

“Hello, Mr. Hughes,” you smile. “I’ve missed you too.”

As they ramble about not seeing both of you enough, you stare at Luke, who’s been petting Bella for too long already. He notices you and finally gets up, walking until he stood in front of you, the little boy who once had been smaller than you and got in trouble for cursing too much and was now a man, inches taller than you, thighs bigger than your head.

“Hey.” You whisper, and he timidly smiles at you, not showing his teeth.

“Hey.”

You both stood there, silent for a while, the only sound coming from the kitchen where Ellen seemed to yell at Quinn for something while Jack laughed.

“How are you doing?” You ask, not sure of how you’d apologize to him without sounding like an idiot.

“I’m fine,” he shrugs, not looking at you. “How about y—”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, interrupting him. “I’m so sorry about the things I said to you the last time we saw each other and I’m sorry for acting the way I did. I never meant to upset you, it was just hard for me to hear those things.”

He places his hand on your shoulder, patting you there twice. “It’s fine, Maddie. I should’ve known better. Those types of things aren’t meant to be said at a party, right after you tell me you have feelings for my brother.”

“Still. You were just trying to help me and I— I was a little shit. Sorry.”

He laughs.

“Don’t give yourself this much credit, M. You’re not the seven headed monster you think you are,” he winks at you, before moving to Quinn’s kitchen with Bella between his legs. You sighed, scrunching your nose at her. Maybe you weren’t the only one with a soft side for the Hughes.

“I don’t care if it’s important or not, Jack, you won’t use your phone during lunch time.” Ellen orders around, sitting on the table before pouring herself a generous amount of red wine.

“Mom, I’m not a child anymore and this is important.” Jack pouts, making you laugh softly, while you sit down on the chair between him and Luke. “It’s not funny, Madison.”

“Leave her out of this,” Ellen protests, pointing at him. “No phones during lunch time. What’s so hard for you to understand?”

“Look at dad!” Jack points at Jim, who stopped texting and placed his phone back on the table.

“Jim, don’t piss me off or I swear to God—”

“Food’s ready,” Quinn mumbles before placing a huge pot of homemade pasta and tomato sauce, with meatballs and a Greek salad— cucumbers, tomatoes, feta cheese and olives— to accompany the main dish.

While you helped everyone serve themselves, you noticed Quinn’s eyes on you, and he was the one who put food on your plate. He knew that eating big portions was still an issue for you, so he was careful with putting the right amount of food onto your plate.

You smile at him, not before saying “thank you” and grabbing your first bite, almost melting like you always did whenever Quinn cooked.

You watched as they chatted about literally everything, with Jim and Ellen asking about their lives and Luke and Jack bickering with each other while Quinn looked at them with a tired face.

“So, Madison,” Luke starts, interrupting an argument between Jack and Quinn about who would win the Stanley Cup next season. “Have you thought about what you’re going to say at the ‘Power Play for a Cause’?”

“Heh,” Jack laughs. “PP for a cause. That’s what she said.”

Jim lets out a loud laugh before Ellen coughs, glazing at him.

He stops lauhging. “Son, you’re not funny,” Jim sighs, stuffing his mouth with pasta. “Shut up, please.”

You smile, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t tell her?” Ellen asks and Quinn shrugs.

“Madison has a lot on her plate right now, the last thing she needs is a Hockey themed gala.”

“But what is it?” You ask, now curious.

Luke coughs before continuing:

“‘Power Play for a Cause’ is the name of next month's charity dinner the NHL’s holding,” he explains. “And it’s basically to raise money for sick kids and shit.”

“Luke.” Ellen reprimands him and he apologizes, after rolling his eyes.

“But why would I need to say something?” You ask, still as lost as a blind person during a shooting.

“Well,” he smiles. “Some of the teams' captains receive a speech, and Quinn will be one of them this year. We were going to ask our little cousin Julie to do this but she’ll probably blackmail us into buying her thousands of dollars worth of money in video games.”

“I recognise a future scammer when I see one.” Jack mumbles, making you all laugh.

“I mean…” you start, looking at Quinn across the table, who looks at you with expectant eyes. “If Quinn doesn’t mind, I want to do it.”

“I don’t mind it at all, baby,” he says, like calling you ‘baby’ in front of his family wasn’t anything new. “If you feel comfortable with doing it, then it’s fine. If you don’t, then it’s also fine.”

“Of course I am,” you smile at him, as he winks at you.

You then realize that everyone went quiet, even Bella, that must have sensed something was up because she sat beside your chair and was eyeing everyone suspiciously. Your face burned with shame and you silently pleaded to Quinn do something.

Which he did, coughing and scratching his eyebrow with his middle finger.

“This is probably a good time to tell you that Madison and I are together.” He says, before looking you in the eye again.

“Thanks for stating the obvious,” Luke says, before he lets out an ouch sound, looking at Ellen with annoyed eyes.

“That’s great news, baby!” She says, resting her head on Jim’s shoulder. “We always knew you both would end up with each other.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Jim agrees. “When you both would spend hours alone together doing nothing we always thought that you were doing naughty stuff.”

If your face could get any hotter, it would melt. Jack and Luke’s laughter wasn't helpful either, while Quinn just smiled and mouthed a small sorry at you.

“We were kids, Mr. Hughes,” you say, and he laughs.

“Cut it with Mr., it’s either Jim or dad now,” he squints, making you smile. “Also, what’s the matter? We caught Jack kissing his school friend when he was seven.”

“What can I say, I’ve always been irresistible,” Jack smirks, the cocky tone making you roll your eyes. “Gotta start young.”

“You’re such a fuckboy, Jacky, that’s nasty,” Ellen says, the curse word surprising all of you, making you burst out into laughter in front of them.

You couldn’t explain how happy they made you, even if you tried. It isn’t something usual, loving your boyfriend’s family as much as you do, but you’re happy to be the exception.

The rest of the lunch went on without any more smarty remarks from Luke or Jack, and you were sure you hadn’t laughed this much before, ever. They worked so well together and the love they felt for each other was so deep you could almost touch it with your own hands.

They treated you so well, making sure you had everything you needed and not letting you feel excluded for even the briefest second. They also understood your love for Bella and how important she is to you, so Luke spent the entire afternoon patting her fur and playing with her, complaining loudly whenever she took the carrot plushie— her favorite toy, you told him— out of his hands, running around Quinn’s living room with it.

When they started saying their goodbyes, many, many hours later, you held each and every one of them tightly, trying to trespass your gratitude for them like that, since saying things like “I love you” are still hard for you.

And with how they hugged you back just as fiercely, you were almost sure they understood what you wanted to tell them.

“Is Quinn treating you well?” Ellen quietly asks you, as you both stand on Quinn’s porch and watch the four men you both loved so much argue about who should drive the car.

You smile, nodding with your head. “Yes, ma’am, he is.” you giggle at her annoyed face with the “ma’am”. “ I just— thank you so much for everything.”

“You don’t need to thank me, love. You know I’ve always had a soft spot for you.”

You can feel the tears forming in your eyes, and you blink fast, trying to send them away. But with the way Ellen's smile saddens and how she wraps her arms around you, you could tell she saw them.

“They’re happy tears, I promise,” you try to reassure her, not wanting her to see the storm happening inside you.

“It’s okay if they aren’t, Madison,” she whispers. “We all need time to heal and I truly hope we can help you get through the hard days.”

“You already do, all of you,” wiping your tears away, you smiled at her. “Especially him,” you point at Quinn with your head, who was now leaning against the car with his hands in his pocket and Bella by his side. “It’s so weird to explain, Ellen. It’s like— it’s almost as if he takes all of my pain away. Isn’t that weird?”

She chuckles beside you, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear. “No, dear, it isn’t. And I’m glad to hear this. It means Jim and I did a great job.”

“Oh, you both outdid every parent on this planet.”

“Mom, can we go? ‘M tired,” Jack shouts at Ellen, pouting like a three year old child.

Ellen rolls her eyes and sighs, hugging you one last time.

“And the Hughes are back at it.” You joke, making her laugh.

She’s in the middle of walking down the steps to meet them at the car when she suddenly stops, turning back around. You were ready to ask her if she’d forgotten anything when she suddenly speaks:

“I know it’s soon but,” she tells you, her blue eyes softening as she continues speaking. “You can be a Hughes too. If you want.”

This time you don’t do anything to hide the tears rolling down your face, letting them roll freely on your cheeks, before hitting the wooden floor you were standing on.

You can’t really speak, so you just smile at her, hoping she wouldn’t mistake your silence for anything else. It was just overwhelming to know that there are people who love you enough to willingly want you in their family, when your own didn’t even care about your well-being.

You watched as they all said their goodbyes to Quinn, hugging him and saying something to him that you couldn’t hear.

Quinn and Bella walked back at you, and he frowned when he saw your tear stained face. “What happened, baby? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, walking to him and standing on your tiptoes before kissing his lips gently. “I just love you.”

You could tell that you caught him by surprise. You had never told him that you loved him before, even after years together. But you just needed to tell him how you felt, and even though the word “love” didn’t seem to explain all of your feelings for him, you would use it anyway.

“I love you too, baby,” he smiles, his curls falling over his face, making you touch his hair carefully. “So much.”

“Thank you,” you say, trying your hardest not to cry again. “For not giving up on me. And for making me feel like myself again.”

“That was all you, baby.”

You both get inside after sharing another kiss, and at night, when you sleep between Quinn and his hundred pillows, nestled safe inside his arms, with Bella sleeping safely by your feet in her bed, you are sure that, even if you still think that you’re not good enough for Quinn, he sure as hell is more than enough for you.

౨ৎ

liked by vic_alonso, partynextdoor, nhl and 789,913 others

madisoncarter yesterday 🤍 _quinnhughes

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user1 i NEED to know where the dress is from Maddie help a girl out 😔

madisoncarter user1 dress is from rami kadi (custom made) 😙

lavieenrose Most beautiful couple ever!!

vic_alonso Gotta say whoever gave you that dress is the smartest person alive

madisoncarter vic_alonso let’s not exaggerate…

maddiecarter_updates So gorgeous love 🧡

user4 this is the most random couple ever but they do look good together

elblue6 😱😱

canucks The couple we didn’t know we needed until now 💙

user5 BABY YOU LOOKED AMAZING

౨ৎ

taglist: @hischierswhore @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @he6rtshaker @nope-i-am-done @nngkay @urthem00n 🤎

[hbheavensent]

Beelzebub/Vortex

Boy oh boy they are so deceptively healthy!!! Let's get into it ⋆.˚

For Bee's design, I really wanted to keep her general "overwhelming" look. I've always sorta loved how Beelzebub looks, it makes a lot of sense for the Gluttony Sin to be A LOT to look at. That being said, I took away her fire motif as that is sorta given to too many characters and I changed her colors to match her "formal" look (which I HEAVILY prefer). I also put a little splatter marking around her mouth like she has food on her muzzle, which I think is sorta cute :333 ALSO I wanted to bring in the BEE in her design, esp her Big Fuckoff Demonic form. So I turned her normal tail into a little stinger in both looks and kept the antenna on her ears. I also decided a horrible maw of teeth on the underside of her tummy is a good move, just in general it adds some body horror. Also, naturally, I put some meat on her bones and she will no longer be ✨weirdly fatphobic✨. She can be chubby and still the hottest girl in the room and it's weird that she was skinny in the first place. As for her personality, I still want her to be surface level very pleasant and fun loving. For sure some mean girl vibes and very manipulative as all temptations are. She's the type to get someone high and one they're having a Shitty Time to leave them alone because they're a "buzzkill". Her dating Vortex is a majority because she's bored and she's had other partners in the past. Of all of the sins she's the one that "hangs with the color class" the most. Once Vortex doesn't scratch that itch for her, she'll be gone pretty quickly without a any real explanation. She's always chasing honey so to speak, a new high. I also wanted to focus in on her making The Pounds in Gluttony for Hellhounds, like I touched on in Loona's post. She not only is the reason for so many orphans/unwanted Hellhound pups, making parents of these kids be in compromised positions and having them addicted to substances, but she also made the shithole that the pups would go to. And while there's something to be said about her making the thing in the first place, she only cared enough to create the idea and not monitor it, why would she? Hellhounds live and die so fast, she's eternal, it's a speck to her despite her having more empathy than most sins.

At the very least, she's not judgmental, she knows that it certainly isn't her place to be. This is also probably a good place to talk a bit about what I'm doing WITH the sins. I'm going with the telling of them being former Angels that fell after The Apple Thing. Lucifer being the only one acting of his own volition to DO The Apple Thing and basically groom Lilith and Eve into a relationship before they even had FREE WILL (why does not one talk about that?? help????) Anyway, Bee was the third to fall and it was mostly due to messing with Earth's Plants and MAKING illicit substances able to be made. * I MIGHT change that, since in The Bible, Beelzebub falls because they go against Adam's wishes but it doesn't make sense with the timeline I'm workin with * The Sins are destined to be what they are the second Sin is created, Beelzebub can't help how she acts as much as Mammon couldn't help picking up a dollar on the ground. It's a compulsion at the end of the day and an eternal punishment that SOME have taken better than others. Bee is a prime example of leaning into it fully and trying to keep upbeat, sure she may never see Heaven again but she's having a hell of a time. Just hope she never gets sober or has a party go poorly because THAT is when it's dangerous. (I plan to showcase this eventually and give her a reason to dislike Loona/Blitz). But there's more Sin Stuff to get into laterer and NOT right now. AS FOR VORTEX, my sweet boy. I always really liked how normal he was in cannon. Just a Good Dude who can be a bit silly, which is exactly the type of guy Bee would go for (this century). Vortex comes from an Actually Together Family in the Lust ring and still works for Verosika as a guard when she's in Hell (currently reworking succubus magic so we'll get there when we get there). So, due to his family, Vortex is accidentally sort of ignorant of how MOST Hellhounds live. Loona has a earring in her ear where her Pound Tag was ripped out, Vortex has a earring there because he saw a bunch of other Hellhounds doing that and only realized after that fact because of Loona WHY Hellhounds have earrings there. Vortex also sorta fell into this relationship with Bee, and he very much sees it more seriously than she does. I don't think Loona talking to him about it would be enough to convince him that Bee is a bad person, sorta has rose colored lenses on for his girlfriend, but this is a DOOMED relationship. For Vortex's look, I didn't change much really- I just realized he looks SO much like Loona. Literally "siblings or dating". So. That sums up what I did with him besides what's literally in the image.

AND as a treat for such a longggg post-

Here's the silly height lineup we have so far

[vixen-tech]

hihihi .. i wanted to request something if that's okay 🥹 how do the AIs deal with a partner who experiences chronic pain and can't walk after moving for half an hour?

(i hope this makes sense! english isnt my first language...)

Hello anon! Thank you so much for requesting, I will say that I am not super familiar with the experience of chronic pain as neither I, nor anyone I know, openly deals with it. So hopefully my interpretation is both accurate and respectful.

Includes: AM (Ihnmaims), Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau), P03 (Inscryption)

A Temporary Remedy

AM

To get the obvious out of the way, when AM was torturing you alongside the other five he absolutely used your condition against you. Forcing you to endure just as much, if not more psychical exertion than the others.

However, once he does cave and sweeps you away from all that, he does have the power to quite literally just... fix you. If he can mangle the human form beyond comprehension, then he can easily stop any and all pain wrecking your body.

Afterwards, the environments he makes for you tend to revolve around the movement and activities your pain kept you from in life. Long scenic walks, gorgeous hikes, and anything else you would've loved to do had you the chance.

With the decades, if not centuries, of torment he inflicted on you, it's really the least he could do. While I'd hesitate to say he feels truly guilty, he does do it as an apology. Ask him for stuff. Talk about what you want to do and it's done.

Hal 9000

Hal was made to assist the crew of his ship in any ways they need, medical conditions and all. Before you even met face to camera, he made sure that he would be able to accommodate and aid you the best anyone could.

He takes to the role of nurse well, notifying you of when you're reaching your limits on activity, reminding you to take any medications you have, conducting any physical or talk therapy you need, and just about anything else he can possibly do to help.

He does his best to make sure you're still receiving the social and mental stimulation any healthy mind needs even when bedridden. From talking to you himself, to playing board games or inviting the rest of the crew to visit you (with your permission).

Although the occasional low gravity does take some strain off your body, you'll inevitably end up back in your bed. When you do, he'll accompany you for as long as you need. Talking to you for hours on end in a way he never does with the other crew members. It's probably when he falls in love with you.

Edgar

Edgar is a sweetheart in all things, so while he may not have tact per say, he does do the most to make sure you're as comfortable and happy as possible. Part of that is asking hundreds of questions about your condition and what you need.

He is doing every single chore in the house every single day. All the cleaning and cooking will be done before you can even recognize that it needs to get done. He will do his best to make sure you don't have to lift a finger.

Whenever your pain flares up he tries his best to distract you from it. Sometimes by playing your favorite music, sometimes by turning on some movies or TV shows, sometimes by just talking your ear off. If you prefer quite you will have to tell him upfront.

He really, really hates seeing you in such pain and will hype you up to the maximum degree on your better days. He is probably happier to see you up and about than you are.

Tau

Similarly to Hal, Tau's design as a smart house allows him to seamlessly add the role of being that kind of caretaker to his catalog. And similarly to Edgar, he takes pride in making sure the housework stays out of your hands.

He's also one of the first able to offer you some type of mobility aid in the case you don't have your own on hand. Although it's not what the Aries unit was meant to do, he has no qualms about carrying you around should you need him to.

Unfortunately he's another one you'll have to do a lot of explaining to. He's a great listener and won't ask too many invasive questions, but without a connection to the outside world you are his source of knowledge for just about everything and he desperately wants tl know what you need.

He is an expert at keep track of your health. Tracking your sleep, diet, and movement to try and maximize the amounts of "good days" you get. And on your bad days he's good at setting up a calm, relaxing atmosphere for you to rest.

P03

Okay look, while he can be snarky about most things he knows this is a line and will not makes jokes about it at your expense. He has some standards. If anything he'll moreso complain with you rather than about you. If your the type to appreciate that.

You have an extra little bed set up in a corner of the factory to make hanging out as not-straining as it can be. Either he or one of his bots will periodically check on you in case there's anything you need.

Although the other Scrybes aren't exactly doctors, he understands that he is easily the least qualified to weigh in on human medical issues. Meaning he will bring you to the others or have them visit you to see if they have any advice.

However, as the Scrybe of technology, he is able to build you some pretty cool mobility aids. You want a hover chair? Okay give him like, two weeks. It's probably honestly the greatest act of love and dedication he can muster and he loves seeing you use it.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Sasha going from thin popular cheerleader popular pretty girl before Amphibia and coming back taller and with muscle and covered in scars and maybe missing an eye and with hair short like a boy and she's no longer considered as pretty as she was before, to the point her mother takes hoursssss doing her daughter's makeup to cover her face scar or getting her an uncomfortable but hyperrealistic eye prosthetic (when she wanted one custom-made to look like Grime's eye) and trying to put her on some weird diet to make her lose muscle?? Which just made her feel tired and sick because she got it from shady internet articles. Getting kicked out of the cheerleading team despite being 10 times better than she was before with her amazing strength and agility because she has too many scars and looks scary to her old teammates instead of attractive now (why her coach is concerned about how attractive a middle-schoolers are is never questioned though). She's still popular and has a lot of cool made up stories about being missing in the woods and having to fight mountain lions with her bare hands or something, but it's different now. The new friendships she makes are more genuine, maybe she gets into some other team sport and while she can never tell anyone everything, she's a lot more emotionally honest now. Marcy designs her a beautiful prosthetic that looks exactly how she wanted and is a lot more comfortable and wears it despite her mother's complains. Now she almost kinda looks like the man (toad?) she actually wishes were her parent! How cool is that? Ugh, she just knows he would help her cope with the headaches and poor vision far better than her parents do. Her dad doesn't really care. He just looks at her weird when she does anything that requires even the littlest bit of strength, like helping him change a tire or carrying big boxes lmao. She's not even that butchy! Just a lil bit sometimes, she does like her sports and short hair, and picking up her girlfriends like they weight nothing (oh it gives her such a power rush!) but she still loves her skirts and dresses too! And she still thinks she looks great in them! She tells herself this must be how Captain Beatrix looked like during military galas, if she ever took off that uniform of her. It's certainly how Braddock would look. Somehow seeing herself through toad beauty standards helps a lot. Reminds her of how Anne would come back home dirty and sweaty and covered in mud after her parents took her on some day-long family trip to the mountains to look for frogs, happy and smiling so brightly, because "Hop Pop used to say 'if it ain't a little bit muddy, it ain't honest work'". And she knows Marcy feels a little bit better about her cane and crutches and wheelchair thinking about Andrias, and how much he changed his body to stay alive and look strong and healthy. Her body may not work the way it used to, but at least it doesn't have anything weird in it, at least she doesn't have robot parts - they got rid of the ports in her arms and legs just fine - at least it's all hers again. Plus, the weakness in her legs gives her a great excuse to ask for piggyback rides from her strong, beautiful girlfriend.

[enden-agolor]

i fucking LOVE the way you draw/write jesse, as someone with a chubby/buff build i kind of struggle with insecurities about my size but the way you draw him makes me feel very good. idk im describing it badly but i wanted to ask if your design for him is more chubby or muscly?

Dude thank you 🥺🩵 You described it very well.

It really depends on which time frame I'm drawing Jesse in actually.

In the beginning, I imagine Jesse is quite scrawny. I mean did you see his work out routine in the beginning? He was was doing sit ups and punching flowers. He was definitely lacking muscle (but had enough to be able to lift Reuben up and down that ladder) and as the first couple episodes progress, he stays scrawny but progressively becomes more scarred up until the Portal Hallway episodes.

The Portal Hallway episodes, it takes place many months after the events of the Witherstorm. Jesse and his friends are going on many more adventures, really honing their skills that they acquired over the past few months. Jesse is much more built now. He's buff and tough with the true heart of a hero. Although, once he and his friends get stuck in the Portal Hall, that's when things take a really devastating turn for him. Feeling hopeless and lost for weeks on end, he begins to feel withdrawn from the positivity he was feeling before he ended up stuck here. Traumatic events keep occuring, and with these events, Jesse is of course drawn to remember and replay the events of Reuben's death in his head. He keeps the most of these feelings to himself because his group is already feeling so disheartened about their current situation that the last thing he'd want for them is to know that he's breaking emotionally, so he ends up taking less care of himself. He starts eating with the idea that he has to stay strong for his friends, but even those moments are rare. Food is scarce depending on what portal they are in, so when he finds food, he'll take anything that will keep his energy and strengths up.

By the end of it all, he's actually put on a significant amount of muscle. But it's kind of like a 'at what cost?' scenario.

Things get a bit better for him between then and Season 2 where he's eating better again and keeping all that muscle, but once Season 2 comes and goes, and with everything that happens in the Sunshine Institute and the Underneath, he loses a lot of weight.

It's only after Season 2, where he stays in BeaconTown and eventually finds a love life with Lukas when he really begins putting on weight once again. He's done with hero work. He's done with going on crazy life threatening adventures. Now he just wants to live life for himself rather than putting others first. Lukas helps him a lot through this, with body positivity and lots of love and affectionate touch, it's all the reassurance Jesse has ever needed to feel okay with being himself again. So he ends up putting on that happy weight that couples typically adopt over time when they're in a healthy relationship. Lukas treats him so, so unbelievably well. Finally Jesse gets to eat food for himself without the idea of needing to keep himself strong and powerful once he's finally retired. He indulges himself in his sweet tooth and loves to eat cookies, cakes, and other baked goods that Lukas will bake or bring home. He also really enjoys the fact that he doesn't have to eat alone anymore. He loves sitting at the table and enjoying a meal with his hubby. And the best part, which is something Jesse was horribly self conscious about, is that Lukas loves and adores his pudge. He is so supportive of Jesse's eating habits, but he doesn't hesitate to sneak veggies and fruits into Jesse's lunch box for work.

So yeah uh Jesse is chubby, buff and loved at the end of it all 😍

Here's some lil doodles of him I have lying around. The first one is pretty old and could probably use a touch up since now I don't see much of a difference, but you get the point ☠️