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yo-ri-su-ki · 2 months ago

Note

Hey… me again….

Do NOT flame me— I’ve literally never played the games before, so think of this as an au.

Arranged marriage au with Vergil? We fell first, he fell harder? You do NOT have to write this one immediately/if you don’t want to because I’m SURE you already have a lot on your plate, but I read a Mydei one with this trope and I’m OBSESSED.

LOVE YOUR WORK!!!!

An: Hnnnhggg Mydeii uhhhhhh oofmmm it's all over the screesewnn... THIS ONES LONG BUCKLE UP, ALSO SOME OF IT IS BASED OFF ONE OF MY VERGIL FICS WHERE THE READER NEARLY DIES.

Bound by blades and vows

The air in Fortuna was chilled with the scent of steel and roses, the perfume of both blood and duty. You had grown up hearing tales of the infamous Sparda bloodline—how they were gods among men, warriors forged in the fires of hell, half-demons who walked among humans with disdain in their hearts and power in their hands.

You never expected to marry one.

Especially not Vergil Sparda.

Your father, a high-ranking diplomat with a penchant for forging peace through paperwork, had somehow orchestrated an alliance between your family and the house of Sparda. After the recent skirmishes between human factions and demonic forces, a marriage between a powerful neutral family and the son of Sparda was deemed “strategic.”

You had expected someone cold, arrogant, cruel.

And you were partially right.

Vergil was a man of few words. Sharp as his katana. Eyes like frozen fire. He didn’t smile. He didn’t talk much. During your engagement ceremony, he didn’t so much as look at you, save for the brief moment when your fingers brushed during the exchange of ceremonial vows. Even then, his hand felt more like a weapon than a comfort.

You were captivated anyway.

Not by his power—though that was undeniable—but by the broken silence that surrounded him. The loneliness cloaked in stoicism. You wanted to understand the man behind the blade. The son of a legend who had carved his own cruel path.

He didn't even remember your name the first week.

---

Weeks Later — The Fortress Estate

Married life with Vergil was… quiet. Awkward. You had separate rooms. He trained before dawn and returned well past dusk. His only words to you were logistical, sometimes edged with condescension.

But you saw more than he wanted to show.

Like how he always left his coat hanging in the hall closet so it wouldn’t track mud into your side of the estate. Or how your favorite tea blend always appeared in the kitchen, perfectly restocked. Or the single time he had caught you crying in the garden—silent tears over your loneliness—and instead of offering comfort, he had simply left a single white camellia on your pillow that night.

Vergil did not understand love.

But he was learning you.

And you were already hopelessly falling for him.

---

Three Months Later — A Shift

One evening, after a particularly exhausting council meeting where you had defended Vergil’s decision to withhold demonic intervention in a human war, you returned to your chambers only to find him waiting.

“Why?” he asked, leaning against the window. Moonlight gilded his silver hair, his arms crossed in that ever-defensive way.

You blinked. “Why what?”

“Why defend me?”

You swallowed. “Because you were right. And because you're my husband.”

His gaze narrowed. “That is an obligation. Not affection.”

“I care for you, Vergil,” you admitted, heart pounding. “Even if you don’t care back.”

Silence. So thick it almost choked you.

Vergil walked past you, slowly, his boots silent against the stone. When he paused beside you, his voice was low. “You shouldn’t.”

And yet... he didn’t leave.

---

The First Crack

That same night, he stayed in your room. Not in your bed—but in the armchair by the fire. When you woke with a scream from a nightmare, you found yourself wrapped in his coat. He was gone, but the faintest scent of him lingered—cool metal, storm, and sword oil.

Your heart ached.

He was opening.

Slowly. Painfully.

But he was opening.

---

Six Months In — He Falls

The moment Vergil realized he loved you came like a blade through the heart.

You were nearly killed.

A mission to escort a high priestess to a neutral territory had turned into an ambush. You had fought, of course—you weren’t defenseless. But there were too many. Demonic mercenaries. Blood-magic blades. Poison-laced arrows.

Vergil arrived in a storm of judgment, his Yamato slicing through the air with brutal precision. But when he saw your body crumpled, your blood soaking into the snow, something snapped.

He destroyed them all.

Not with his sword.

With his fury.

When you opened your eyes three days later, he was at your side, hand clasping yours so tightly it nearly hurt.

“You came…” you rasped.

“I should never have let you go alone,” he whispered, voice raw. “I thought… I thought I had more time.”

“For what?” you whispered.

“To love you properly.”

---

And So, He Loved You

It wasn’t immediate. It wasn’t easy.

But from that moment on, Vergil was different.

He started training you personally—“so I never lose you again.” He began sitting beside you at dinner, eating in silence but present. He touched you more often—not with passion, at first, but with presence. A hand at your back. A gentle brush of your fingers when handing you a scroll. His sword callused hand brushing your cheek one evening as you studied near the fire.

And one night, as you watched the stars together on the balcony, he finally whispered, “You said you cared for me even if I didn’t care back.”

You nodded, heart in your throat.

“I care now,” he murmured. “More than I should. More than I know how to.”

He turned to face you.

“But if you’re willing to teach me, I’ll spend the rest of our days learning how to be worthy of you.”

The days after your near-death bled into weeks of quiet recovery.

Vergil stayed close. Not smothering—he never could be—but present. In the subtle ways you’d come to cherish.

He brought you tea, perfectly steeped. His fingers lingered a little longer when he adjusted your blankets. His voice, though still edged with that familiar sharpness, was softer around you now. Tinted with something that wasn’t quite affection… but not far from it.

Something fragile. Reverent.

He never said love again.

But he showed it.

With a blade sharpened each night at your bedside. With the callused touch that brushed your temple when he thought you were asleep. With the furious rage that flickered behind his eyes anytime you so much as winced in pain.

You had never felt so protected—and so afraid of how deeply you wanted him to stay.

---

Two Weeks Later – Midnight

You couldn’t sleep. Your body was healing, but your thoughts raced.

The moon cast silver light across your chambers. Outside, wind brushed against the trees like whispers. You rose, quietly, wrapping yourself in a robe, and stepped into the hall.

He was there.

Vergil always trained at midnight now, Yamato dancing under starlight in the open courtyard. But tonight, his blade was still. He stood staring into the sky, hair glinting, expression unreadable.

“You should be resting,” he said without turning.

“I wanted to see you,” you admitted.

He turned then, and for once, he didn’t look away.

There was something in his eyes—hunger, yes, but not the kind born of lust. It was yearning. Quiet. Terrifying. Tender.

“I thought I had time,” he murmured, stepping closer. “To keep you at a distance. To avoid the mess of human emotion.”

He stopped a breath away.

“But when you fell, I realized… there is no version of this world where I survive losing you.”

Your heart thundered. “Vergil—”

“Don’t speak,” he whispered, stepping even closer. “Please. Not yet.”

He cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing the soft skin under your eye. You leaned into him, trembling.

When his lips finally met yours, it was not like fire.

It was silk.

Soft. Lingering. Terrified.

As if he was afraid the world would end if he pressed too hard.

And maybe it would.

---

Aftermath

He didn’t say anything when he pulled away. Just rested his forehead against yours, breathing raggedly, like that single kiss had stolen the fight from his lungs.

You placed your hands on his chest, feeling the tremble beneath his coat.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice a vow.

His eyes fluttered shut.

“I am not worthy of that,” he whispered.

“But I will be.”

It began, like most arguments, with something small.

You were preparing for a diplomatic visit from a neutral kingdom—one that had long distrusted the Sparda lineage. You offered to attend alone, hoping to ease their tensions without the looming presence of Yamato.

Vergil refused.

“I will accompany you,” he said flatly, standing near the hearth, his arms crossed. “I do not trust them. Nor do I trust you to keep yourself alive without oversight.”

The words cut.

“Oversight?” you repeated, your voice rising. “I’m not some fragile doll you have to chaperone, Vergil. I’ve led more negotiations than you’ve sat through in your entire—!”

“And nearly died during one,” he snapped, stepping forward. “Do you expect me to forget that?”

You recoiled.

“That wasn’t my fault. And this—this isn’t about my skills. This is about your fear.”

His silence was all the confirmation you needed.

“You don’t trust me,” you whispered. “Not really.”

Vergil’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t deny it.

You turned away. Hurt blooming in your chest like a fresh bruise. “I thought we were becoming partners. Equals.”

“We are not equals,” he said coldly. “You are mortal. Human. You feel everything too deeply, too quickly. That makes you weak.”

The air left your lungs.

For the first time, you walked out and left him standing there.

---

Hours Later – The Garden

The moonlight made the roses seem silver. You sat on the cold bench near the back of the garden—alone, angry, aching. The wind tugged at your robe, and somewhere deep down, you hated how much his words still held power over you.

“I do not believe what I said,” came a voice from the shadows.

You didn’t look up.

“I said it to push you away. To keep you where it was safe. For me.”

You finally met his gaze. He looked… wrecked. His coat hung loose. His hair was wind-tousled. But it was his eyes that struck you most.

Soft. Lost. Bleeding.

“I have fought demons that threatened the world,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “I have slain gods and torn realms. None of it frightened me like the thought of losing you again.”

Silence.

Vergil slowly lowered himself to his knees before you—not as a warrior, but as a man.

“I do not know how to be soft,” he whispered. “I do not know how to love like a human does. My father left. My mother died. My brother—” He broke off, jaw clenched. “Everything I loved was taken or broken. So I learned not to need.”

He looked up at you.

“Then you came. And now all I do is need.”

Your heart cracked wide open.

You slid off the bench, kneeling before him, hands gently cupping his face.

“I don’t need perfection,” you whispered. “I just need you. Scars and all.”

Vergil leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours once more. It had become his way of seeking closeness when words failed him.

When he kissed you again, it was deeper this time. Desperate. Less afraid. His fingers curled into the fabric of your robe like he was anchoring himself in you.

You kissed him back with everything you had.

Because he wasn’t just yours now.

He had fallen.

And he had fallen harder.

Made by @yo-ri-su-ki, do not copy or translate my work!! Likes and reblogs appreciated!! Also if you wanna see more like this consider following!!!

An: iM SORRY I COULDN'T REACH IT SOONER THIS WAS AN AMAZING IDEAAA IM SICK SO IT TAKES A WHILE TO WRITE!!

#devil may cry #dmc #yo ri su ki #fanfic #heh...#vergil x reader #what...#dmc vergil

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lilangelbuds · 2 months ago

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Out of town uncle comes to visit and takes his niece on a camping trip so her parents can go on a little retreat. It’s been a while since he last saw his niece, she’s certainly more grown up and has definitely filled out all her curves. Uncle just can’t resist having her all weekend long, after all, who knows when he’ll be back to see her again

The fire crackled, its orange glow casting flickering shadows across the clearing. She sat cross-legged on the log, her silhouette framed by the dancing flames, her face half-lit in a way that made him pause. She’s not a kid anymore. The thought snuck into his mind unbidden, and he shifted uncomfortably on the log beside her. It had been years since he’d last seen her, and the time apart had done more than just age her—it had transformed her. Her curves were soft where they hadn’t been before, her laughter a little huskier, her confidence more pronounced.

“So, how’s school been?” he asked, his voice casual, though his eyes lingered a little too long on the way her sweater hugged her waist.

She turned to him, her smile bright in the firelight. “It’s been good. Busy, though. I’ve been working on this art project for weeks now. It’s kind of draining, but I think it’s worth it.”

“Art, huh?” He leaned back, stretching his legs out toward the fire. “I didn’t know you were into that.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of new,” she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean, I’ve always liked drawing and stuff, but I never thought I could actually do something with it. Now I’m kind of obsessed.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “That’s great. I’m glad you’re finding something you’re passionate about.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the distant rustle of leaves in the breeze. He glanced at her again, his gaze tracing the curve of her cheek, the way her lips parted slightly as she stared into the flames. She’s beautiful. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and he looked away, his throat suddenly dry.

“It’s really peaceful out here,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “I don’t get to do stuff like this much anymore.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice a little rougher than he intended. “It’s nice to get away from everything for a while.”

She turned to him, her eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged, heavy with something unspoken. He could see the faintest flush on her cheeks, the way her breath hitched ever so slightly as she held his gaze.

“Thanks for bringing me out here,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know it wasn’t exactly part of your plan.”

“It’s no problem,” he replied, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’m glad I did.”

The fire seemed to burn brighter, or maybe it was just the tension between them. She shifted closer, her knee brushing against his, and he felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him. This is dangerous. He knew he should pull back, put some distance between them, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Her hand rested on his arm, her touch warm and tentative. “I’ve really missed you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “It’s been so long since we’ve really talked.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, he was frozen, unsure of how to respond. But then her hand slid up his arm, her fingers curling around his bicep, and something inside him snapped. He reached for her, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip.

She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed, and he could feel the heat of her breath against his skin. “Uncle,” she whispered, the word trembling on her tongue.

That single word should have been enough to stop him, to remind him of the line he was about to cross. But instead, it only fueled the fire burning inside him. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers, the kiss tentative at first, testing the waters. But when she didn’t pull away, when she kissed him back with a hunger that matched his own, he lost all sense of reason.

His hand slid into her hair, tangling in the soft strands as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. She moaned softly, her body pressing against his, her hands clutching at his shirt. He could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric, the way her curves molded against him, and it drove him wild.

Without breaking the kiss, he shifted, pulling her onto his lap, her legs straddling his hips. Her hands roamed over his chest, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, and he let out a low groan as her hands found his bare skin.

The fire crackled beside them, its heat nothing compared to the inferno raging between them. His hands slid under her sweater, his fingers tracing the soft skin of her waist before pushing the fabric up and over her head. She was breathtaking, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath, her skin glowing in the firelight.

He kissed her again, his lips trailing down her neck, his hands exploring every inch of her. She arched into his touch, her nails digging into his shoulders as he teased her nipples with his fingers, his mouth following soon after. Her moans were music to his ears, her body trembling beneath his touch.

“Please,” she begged, her voice desperate, her hips grinding against his.

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He fumbled with the button of his jeans, pushing them down just far enough to free himself, before sliding her leggings and panties down her legs. She was wet, ready for him, and when he finally sank into her, they both let out a gasp.

It was slow at first, each movement deliberate, savoring the feel of her around him. But then she wrapped her legs around his waist, her hips meeting his with each thrust, and the pace quickened. The log beneath them creaked, the fire crackled, and their breathing grew more erratic as they moved together, lost in the heat of the moment.

Her hands tangled in his hair, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered his name, her voice a mix of pleasure and desperation. He could feel her tightening around him, her release building, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Uncle,” she gasped, her body shuddering as she came.

That was all it took. He buried himself deep inside her, his own release crashing over him like a wave, his vision going white. For a moment, they were both still, their bodies pressed together, their breathing ragged. And then she leaned back, her eyes meeting his, and he could see the same mix of desire and uncertainty mirrored in her gaze.

“What now?” she whispered, her voice trembling. What now?

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moonselune · 9 months ago

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You're like one of my FWVEEEE authors!! And I'm so excited to see ur RQ's are open, because I've wanted to rq this for a bit.

Maybe surprising the boys, after you've given birth, with the babies name being something meaningful to them? Or something they wanted but didn't say anything bc they would assume you didn't like it. My sister recently did that with her husband, and I just am obsessed w the idea. Like, maybe with Wyll naming your daughter Francesca, after his mother? And Ulder hearing that? UGH I'm very sentimental lately.

ahhhh thank you so much !!!!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The quiet of the early morning hours in the tower felt almost sacred as you cradled your newborn in your arms. You had just returned to the tower after a long and exhausting labor, and Gale had been nothing short of a perfect partner, by your side for every moment, but you had made sure to keep one small, precious detail to yourself until now.

Your eyes drifted to where Gale sat near the hearth, engrossed in the flames that flickered softly in the fireplace. His expression was contemplative, lost in thoughts that you couldn’t quite read. He had been gentle and supportive throughout the entire pregnancy, but there was something he had held back—a hesitation you had sensed but never pushed him to express. You knew it had something to do with the baby's name. You suspected that he had a name in mind but hadn’t spoken it, perhaps because he thought you wouldn’t share the sentiment.

As you rocked your baby gently, you decided it was time to reveal the surprise you'd been holding onto for these precious first few hours. With a quiet sigh, you stood, cradling your newborn in your arms as you approached Gale. The soft glow of the fire illuminated his face, and he looked up as you neared, his expression instantly softening at the sight of you and the baby.

“She’s finally asleep?” Gale asked softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper, as though he didn’t want to break the serene quiet that enveloped the room.

You nodded, sitting down beside him, the weight of the baby still comfortably nestled in your arms. Gale leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss on your temple before glancing down at the tiny bundle. His eyes shimmered with pride and awe, as they always did whenever he looked at your child.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” you murmured, your voice tender as you watched Gale’s expression shift to one of mild curiosity.

“What is it, my love?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly, concern flashing briefly across his face. “Is everything alright?”

You smiled at the worry in his voice and reached out to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "Everything is perfect. I just wanted to tell you her name."

Gale blinked, his eyes widening slightly as he realized you hadn’t yet shared the baby’s name. He had been patient, never once pressing you on the subject, but you had seen the way his gaze had lingered on your daughter with a quiet longing.

“I know we talked about a few names,” you continued, your voice soft as you leaned in closer. "But there's one name I think is perfect. And I know it’s a name that means a lot to you."

Gale's breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he looked almost vulnerable, as though he was afraid to hope for what he thought you might say.

His eyes searched yours, filled with unspoken emotion. "What… what name?"

You smiled gently, your heart swelling with love for both Gale and the tiny life you had created together.

"Her name is Morena," you whispered, the name falling from your lips like a promise. "Mora, for short."

For a brief moment, Gale just stared at you, his expression frozen in shock. The name—his mother’s name—hung in the air between you, filling the room with its quiet significance. You could see the emotions flickering in his eyes: disbelief, joy, and a deep, aching sense of gratitude.

"Morena," he repeated softly, almost as if testing the sound of it on his tongue. His voice cracked ever so slightly, and you saw the shimmer of unshed tears in his eyes. "You… you named her after my mother?"

You nodded, squeezing his hand gently. "I know you never asked. I could feel how much you wanted it, but you never said anything because you didn’t want to push me. But Gale… the name is beautiful. And I want our daughter to have something meaningful to you. Something that connects her to the part of you that’s shaped who you are."

Gale let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling as the weight of your words sank in. His free hand reached up to wipe at his eyes, and when he looked back at you, there was such overwhelming love and appreciation in his gaze that it nearly took your breath away.

“You…” Gale began, but his voice faltered. He swallowed hard and tried again. “You don’t know what this means to me. I… I never thought you’d want that. But… Morena, Mora.” His voice broke again, but this time with joy. “It’s perfect. She’s perfect.”

He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing the soft blanket that swaddled the baby. Mora stirred slightly, her tiny face scrunching for a moment before relaxing again. Gale’s breath hitched as he looked down at her, his daughter, named after the woman who had given him life and shaped so much of the man he had become.

"I hope she’s as strong and as kind as your mother is," you said softly, watching as Gale gently stroked Mora's cheek with the back of his hand. "And I know that she’ll be loved just as fiercely."

Gale exhaled shakily, his eyes never leaving your daughter as he spoke.

"She will be," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ll make sure of it. And you… you’ve given me more than I ever thought I deserved."

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, his touch full of reverence and gratitude. When he pulled away, his eyes were shining with unshed tears, but his smile was full of warmth and love.

"Thank you," Gale whispered, his voice barely audible as he looked at you, his heart clearly overwhelmed. "Thank you for giving her this name. For giving me this family."

You rested your head on his shoulder, watching as Gale’s gaze returned to your daughter, his fingers gently tracing her tiny hand as she slept soundly in your arms.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The soft glow of candlelight flickered across the stone walls of your shared room, casting long shadows as you sat by the fire, cradling your newborn in your arms. The long and arduous process of giving birth had taken its toll on you, but the sight of your baby’s peaceful face nestled against your chest filled you with a joy so deep that the exhaustion seemed to melt away.

Astarion had been supportive throughout the pregnancy, doting on you in ways you never imagined he would, but ever since the birth, he had become quieter, more reserved, as if he wasn’t sure how to step into this new role. He had gone out earlier that evening, likely to clear his head, as he often did when faced with unfamiliar emotions. You hadn’t pressed him, understanding that this was a profound change for him, one he likely never expected to experience.

Now, with your baby in your arms, a surprise lay in wait for him. You had chosen a name—a name that held deep meaning, not just for you, but for him. A name that would connect him to this new life in a way you hoped would touch the very core of who he was.

The sound of the door creaking open pulled you from your thoughts. Astarion stepped into the room, his pale skin catching the firelight, making him look even more ethereal. His red eyes found you immediately, softening as he approached, though there was still that cautious distance he had kept since the baby’s arrival.

He was hesitant, not out of disinterest, but out of fear—fear of this new chapter, of his own ability to be what you and the baby needed him to be. You smiled warmly at him, your heart swelling with love.

“Astarion,” you called softly, beckoning him closer.

He approached cautiously, his eyes drifting to the small bundle in your arms, and you saw the flicker of something vulnerable cross his face. His hand twitched as though he wanted to reach out, but he held back, unsure of how to move forward.

“I don’t want to intrude,” Astarion said softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “I… I’m not quite sure what to do in all of this.”

You shifted slightly, making room for him beside you. “You’re not intruding. You’re her father. Come sit with us.”

His eyes widened ever so slightly at the word father, but after a brief hesitation, he sat beside you, careful and measured in his movements. His gaze flickered from you to the baby, then back again, his usual confidence overshadowed by a nervous vulnerability that you had rarely seen in him.

"She’s so tiny," he whispered, almost in awe. "So… fragile."

You nodded, adjusting the baby gently so Astarion could get a better look at her. “She’s strong, though. Like her father.”

Astarion gave a soft, breathless chuckle, though it was clear he was still overwhelmed by the reality before him. "I’m not sure I deserve that comparison."

You reached out, gently taking his hand and placing it on the baby’s back, encouraging him to feel the steady warmth of her little body. He flinched slightly at the contact but quickly relaxed, his expression softening as he felt the tiny life beneath his palm. The look of wonder in his eyes made your heart swell.

“I named her,” you whispered, watching his reaction carefully.

His gaze snapped to yours, a flicker of curiosity and trepidation in his eyes. “Oh? What name did you choose?”

You took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness at the surprise you were about to reveal. “Her name is Astra.”

Astarion blinked, his face momentarily blank as he processed the name. Then, slowly, realization dawned on him, and his red eyes widened in disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, his breath catching in his throat as the meaning behind the name sank in.

“Astra?” he finally whispered, his voice barely audible. “You… named her Astra?”

You nodded, smiling at him with all the love you felt. “Yes. Astra, the female version of your name. I wanted her to carry a part of you with her, always. I know how much your name means to you—how it’s the one thing that’s truly yours after everything you’ve been through. I wanted to give you something else, something between just you and her.”

Astarion’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and for a moment, he seemed utterly speechless. His gaze dropped to the tiny baby in your arms—his daughter—and the depth of emotion in his expression took your breath away. His hand, which had been resting so gently on her back, now trembled slightly, as though the weight of what you had done was almost too much for him to bear.

“You named her after me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I never… I never imagined…”

He trailed off, his usual eloquence failing him as he struggled to find the right words. His eyes shimmered with a vulnerability that was rare for him to show, and you could see the mix of awe, disbelief, and gratitude that swirled within him.

“Astarion,” you said softly, leaning in closer. “I wanted her to know where she came from. Who her father is. And I wanted you to know how much you mean to both of us.”

A single tear escaped the corner of his eye, and Astarion quickly wiped it away with the back of his hand, as though embarrassed by the show of emotion. But when he looked back at you, his face was alight with something that could only be described as love—a deep, profound love that he rarely allowed himself to express so openly. He leaned in, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your forehead.

"You never cease to amaze me, you know that?" he whispered, his voice still thick with emotion.

When he pulled back, he looked down at Astra again, and a soft smile spread across his face—a smile that was filled with a mixture of pride and wonder. He gently traced a finger along the baby's tiny hand, and when her fingers instinctively curled around his, he let out a soft, breathless laugh.

"She’s perfect," Astarion said, his voice filled with awe. "Absolutely perfect."

You leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body beside yours, and together, the two of you watched over your daughter, named in honor of a man who had been through so much yet had found love and light in the most unexpected of places.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The sun was just beginning to set over the horizon, casting a warm amber glow through the windows of your shared room. You sat by the window, gently rocking the newborn in your arms, her small body bundled up in soft blankets as she slept peacefully. The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotion and exhaustion, but every time you looked down at your daughter, you were filled with a deep sense of love and pride.

Wyll had been nothing short of incredible during the birth—strong, reassuring, and steadfast, even when it seemed the weight of his emotions might overwhelm him. But despite his joy, you had sensed a subtle hesitation in him when it came to naming your child. He’d mentioned nothing specific, always deferring to your wishes, but you knew there was a name that held deep meaning for him, a name he hadn’t suggested because he didn’t want to push his own desires onto you.

You had been planning this surprise ever since you realized what name would mean the most to him. And tonight, after all the love and sacrifice he had shown, you were finally going to give him that gift.

The door creaked open, and Wyll stepped inside, his posture weary but his face lighting up when he saw you with the baby. His dark eyes sparkled with a mixture of relief and adoration. He had spent the day attending to his responsibilities, making sure the city was safe and handling the myriad of duties that came with being the Blade of Frontiers. But now, here in the quiet of your home, he was just Wyll, your Wyll.

“Hey, love,” he said softly, approaching you with a tender smile. “How are my two favorite ladies doing?”

“We’re doing well,” you replied with a soft chuckle. “She’s been sleeping soundly.”

Wyll knelt beside you, his eyes fixed on your daughter. His expression was filled with awe every time he looked at her, as if he still couldn’t quite believe she was real, that she was his. Gently, he reached out, brushing a thumb along the baby’s tiny cheek.

“She’s beautiful,” Wyll whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “Just like her mother.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for him. He had been so patient, so selfless, never once pressing his own hopes or desires. And now, you were ready to surprise him with something you knew would touch his heart in a way that nothing else could.

“I’ve been thinking about her name,” you said softly, watching as Wyll’s eyes flickered with curiosity. “And I’ve decided.”

Wyll’s eyebrows raised slightly, his face a picture of attentive concern, but also restraint. “Oh? Have you? I know it’s been a difficult decision, and I didn’t want to rush you.”

You held his gaze, feeling the love you had for him radiating in every word you were about to speak. “I’ve named her Francesca.”

For a moment, Wyll didn’t react. It was as if the name hung in the air, sinking into him slowly, its meaning unravelling. His eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat. He stared at you, his expression a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

“Francesca…” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “After my mother?”

You nodded, your smile soft and loving. “Yes. I know you never mentioned it because you didn’t want to sway me, but I’ve seen the way you talk about her. I’ve heard the love in your voice every time you’ve told me stories about her, that your father passed down to you. I wanted to honor that, and I wanted our daughter to carry that legacy with her.”

Wyll blinked rapidly, as though trying to hold back the sudden rush of tears. He stood up slowly, his hand coming to rest over his mouth as he turned away for a moment, struggling to compose himself. When he finally turned back to you, his eyes were filled with tears, but there was a smile on his face—a smile so full of love and gratitude that it made your heart ache.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Wyll whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “I never expected… I never thought…”

He knelt beside you again, this time more tenderly, as if the weight of your gift had overwhelmed him. Gently, he reached out and touched his daughter’s tiny hand, watching as her fingers instinctively curled around his. His tears finally spilled over, but he didn’t bother wiping them away. Instead, he looked at you, his eyes shining with gratitude.

“I promise you,” he said, his voice low and filled with emotion, “I will be the best father to Francesca. I will make sure she knows who her grandmother was, and I will teach her everything my mother taught me. I will protect her, love her, and cherish her, just like you’ve done for me.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I know you will, Wyll. I never had any doubt.”

For a long moment, the two of you sat there, watching your daughter sleep, the room filled with the quiet warmth of your love and the promise of the future you would build together. Wyll wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he whispered into your ear.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “Thank you for giving me this gift. You’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”

The next morning, a warm breeze filled the air as you and Wyll prepared to visit Ulder Ravengard, Wyll’s father, with your newborn daughter. The weight of the decision you had made—the name that carried such profound significance—still lingered between you both like a quiet, shared secret. Wyll had held you close the night before, murmuring his love and endless gratitude. Now, it was time to share that gift with his father, a man whose stoic exterior hid the deep love and pain of having lost his wife, Francesca, so many years ago.

As you dressed your daughter in a soft blanket, Wyll stood by, watching with tender pride. His hands trembled slightly as he straightened the collar of his tunic, clearly nervous about the conversation ahead. He hadn't told his father yet. No one knew of the decision except the two of you.

"You look beautiful," he said softly, his voice filled with love as he gazed down at you and your daughter. "Both of you."

You smiled up at him, sensing his anxiety. "She’s going to love hearing her grandfather’s voice. And she’s already wrapped around her father's little finger."

Wyll let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll have me wrapped around hers in no time."

With your daughter safely bundled in your arms, the three of you made your way through Baldur's Gate. The city was bustling with activity, the markets alive with voices and the scent of fresh bread filling the air. Wyll walked close beside you, his hand occasionally brushing your back in a quiet gesture of reassurance. You could feel the weight of the moment in his silence.

When you finally arrived at Ulder Ravengard's estate, the sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows over the grand stone steps. A guard greeted you and led you inside, where Ulder sat at a large, intricately carved table, maps and documents spread out before him. He looked up when you entered, his stern face softening slightly at the sight of Wyll and the baby in your arms.

"Father," Wyll greeted him, his voice steady but filled with something deeper—something reverent. He reached out, shaking his father’s hand before glancing nervously at you and the baby. "We wanted to come by and… introduce you to your granddaughter."

Ulder’s gaze shifted to you, and then down to the small bundle in your arms. His brow furrowed slightly, his usual unreadable expression slipping into something more curious. He rose from his chair, approaching slowly, almost cautiously.

"She’s beautiful," Ulder said quietly, his deep voice rough around the edges. "You must be proud."

"We are," Wyll replied, his voice tight with emotion. He cleared his throat, glancing at you before continuing. "There’s… something important we wanted to tell you."

You stepped forward, offering your daughter to Ulder. He hesitated for a brief moment before gently taking her into his arms, his hands surprisingly tender for someone so often defined by duty and discipline. He looked down at her, a soft light filling his eyes that you hadn’t expected to see in a man as hardened by war and loss as Ulder Ravengard.

"Father," Wyll began, his voice steady but thick with meaning, "we’ve named her Francesca."

The name hung in the air for a long moment, sinking into the room like a warm, bittersweet weight. Ulder’s hands froze as he held his granddaughter, his gaze locked on her small, sleeping face. His expression was one of shock, disbelief, and something much deeper—a pain that had never quite healed, a loss that had never truly faded.

"Francesca…" he whispered, his voice so low you could barely hear it.

Wyll stepped closer to his father, his hand resting gently on the older man’s shoulder. "We named her after Mother. We wanted to honor her memory, and… we thought it was the right way to keep her close to us, through our daughter."

Ulder’s eyes grew wet with unshed tears, his grip tightening slightly around the baby as though she were the most fragile thing in the world. He looked up at you, his gaze soft but filled with unspoken emotion, before turning his attention back to Wyll.

"I… I don’t know what to say," Ulder admitted, his voice thick with emotion. His usual stoic demeanor had cracked, revealing a depth of feeling that rarely surfaced. "It’s been so many years since…"

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. You could see the memories swirling in his mind, the image of his beloved wife, Francesca, whom he had lost far too soon, a loss that had left a permanent scar on both father and son. But now, here she was again, in a way—in the form of this tiny life, this new beginning.

Ulder blinked rapidly, as if trying to force back the tears that threatened to spill over. He looked down at his granddaughter again, his large hands cradling her gently as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you both."

For a long moment, Ulder simply stood there, holding his granddaughter with a tenderness you hadn’t expected to see in him. He was a man of war, a leader, but in this moment, he was just a father and a grandfather—grateful for the chance to remember and honor the woman he had lost so many years ago.

Finally, Ulder handed the baby back to you, his eyes filled with something deeper than gratitude.

"Francesca," he repeated, his voice stronger now. "She will grow up knowing who her grandmother was. I will make sure of it."

Wyll nodded, his eyes shining with emotion as he looked at his father. "Thank you, Father."

As you held your daughter close, you couldn’t help but feel the depth of what you had given Wyll, and by extension, his father—a piece of Francesca’s memory that would live on, carried forward into the future. Wyll wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you both watched Ulder wipe away the last traces of his tears.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The soft murmur of the forest outside your home was a constant, soothing presence as you gently rocked your newborn in your arms. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a warm golden glow over the room. You sat by the open window, the scent of pine and fresh earth drifting in, mingling with the soft coos of your daughter. The world felt at peace in this moment, and your heart swelled with love for the tiny life you now held in your arms.

Halsin had been an incredible partner throughout your pregnancy. His calm, reassuring presence had been your anchor, his strength your shelter, but also his tenderness, that unshakable connection to nature, was ever-present. Now that your daughter was here, he had been even more attentive—both in caring for you and in gently bonding with your newborn. His large hands, capable of such strength, were so gentle with her, cradling her as if she were the most delicate thing in the world.

But even with all his devotion, you had noticed something in him over the past few days. A slight hesitation, as though something was on his mind that he didn’t want to burden you with. It was subtle—Halsin was never one to impose his feelings on you—but you could see it in the way his eyes softened when he looked at your daughter, a fleeting glance of something unsaid. You had a suspicion about what it was, but you had waited for the perfect moment to surprise him.

That moment had come.

The door creaked softly, and you looked up to see Halsin entering the room, his presence filling the space as always. His expression immediately softened when he saw you holding your daughter, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He approached quietly, as though not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere you had created.

"How are my two loves?" he asked, his deep voice as warm as the sunlight streaming in through the window.

"We're perfect," you replied, smiling up at him. "Just enjoying the quiet and some time together."

Halsin knelt down beside you, his large hand resting on the arm of your chair as he gazed down at your daughter with an expression so full of love it made your heart ache. He gently reached out to stroke her tiny head, his fingers brushing through the soft tufts of hair.

"She is perfect," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "Every time I see her, I am reminded of how precious life is… and how much I have to be thankful for."

You watched him closely, seeing that flicker of something unsaid in his eyes again. It was time to give him the surprise you had been waiting to share.

"I've been thinking about her name," you said softly, catching his attention. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, his expression attentive but patient.

"Of course," Halsin replied, a gentle curiosity in his tone. "It is important to choose a name that carries meaning, one that honors the spirit of life she represents."

You smiled, your heart racing a little in anticipation. "I’ve already chosen it. I’ve named her Thania."

For a brief moment, Halsin froze, his expression one of pure shock. His lips parted slightly, and his golden eyes widened as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had heard. He stared at you in stunned silence, as though trying to process the weight of the name you had just spoken.

"Thania?" he finally whispered, his voice so soft it was almost a breath. His hand stilled over your daughter’s head, trembling ever so slightly. "After Thaniel?"

You nodded, your smile tender and full of love. "Yes. I know how much he means to you. Thaniel was a part of your life in such a profound way, and I wanted to honor that. So, I thought… what better way to honor the bond you had with him than to give our daughter a name that reflects that connection to nature and life?"

Halsin stared at you, his chest rising and falling as emotion swirled within him. You could see the conflict in his eyes—the joy, the disbelief, the overwhelming gratitude that he struggled to put into words. His hand moved to cover yours, his grip firm but tender as if grounding himself in the moment.

"I…" His voice caught in his throat, and he paused, taking a breath to steady himself. "You’ve given her a name that is sacred to me. Thaniel was not just a spirit of the land… he was a part of my soul, a symbol of everything I fought for, everything I believe in. To name her after him… it is more than I ever could have asked for."

Tears welled in his eyes, though he did nothing to hide them. His usual composure was shattered by the depth of his gratitude and love. He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead gently against yours, his breath warm and shaky.

"Thank you," Halsin whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for this gift. You have honored not just me, but the land itself, the spirit of life. She will grow up knowing the importance of that connection."

You felt your own tears sting at the corners of your eyes as you leaned into his touch. "She’ll know, Halsin. We’ll teach her together."

Halsin pulled back slightly, his eyes shining with unshed tears, but his smile was radiant. He turned his attention to your daughter once more, gently taking her tiny hand in his and brushing it with his thumb.

"Thania," he whispered, testing the name on his lips as if savoring it. "You are a child of the earth, of the wilds. You carry a name that is tied to life itself, and you will always know the beauty and strength of the world around you. I will make sure of it."

He gently kissed the top of her head, his touch reverent, before turning back to you. Without a word, he cupped your face in his large hands and kissed you deeply, a kiss full of love, gratitude, and promise. When he pulled back, his eyes were full of nothing but adoration.

"I love you," he whispered. "More than words could ever express. You’ve given me more than I ever thought possible."

You smiled, your heart overflowing with happiness. "I love you too, Halsin. "

For a moment, the three of you sat there in the warmth of the fading sunlight, surrounded by the quiet serenity of the forest. Your daughter, Thania, was nestled between you and Halsin.

Halsin gently cradled his daughter in his arms, looking down at her with a sense of wonder and awe. His voice, soft and full of promise, carried through the room as he whispered to her, "You will grow strong, little one. As strong as the land itself. And I will be by your side, every step of the way."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

SO WHOLESOME OMFG; my heart died numerous times whilst writing this. Hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

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yokumirumerafan · 3 months ago

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Can I request for a loverboy/lovergirl reader who is their partner but still looks whipped in love whenever they look up at them? A reader who's pupils mold and morph into dilated hearts and a dreamy smile as they yap about everything anything and nothing and their always so hyper around them? And how about this reader is also a stoic and cold person who has sélective mutism and doesn't show emotion or talk to anybody except their dear lover? You can do this with either mha or demon slayer you choose!

OH BABY. YES. This idea??? Romantic. Whipped. Cold-on-the-outside, heart-eyes-for-their-baby-on-the-inside??? WE'RE COOKINGGG 🔥💘

Let’s go with Demon Slayer for this one 'cause the contrast with the whole “cold and silent Hashira vs. bubbly loverboy/girl mode with their S/O” just hits DIFFERENT in that setting 😭💖

🌊 Giyuu Tomioka

Giyuu blinks, confused. You’re pressed into his side, starry-eyed and grinning like he just descended from the heavens. You haven’t spoken to a single person in weeks. But the moment he sat down next to you? You were talking about a cloud you saw that looked like a duck, how you tried soup yesterday but it was too hot, and how pretty he looks even when he’s mad. He’s just staring. “...You sure you’re the same person who glared at Sanemi for breathing too loud earlier?” But lowkey? He loves it. Blushes every time you stare at him with those heart-shaped pupils.

🔥 Kyojuro Rengoku

He is eating. You are staring. You: “Did you know your eyelashes sparkle in the sunlight? You're like a sunrise, you know? Gorgeous. Fiery. Golden. Like a—” “AH! MY FLAME! YOU ARE SO EXPRESSIVE TODAY! I LOVE IT!!” He lets you ramble like he’s watching a play. Meanwhile the rest of the Corps is watching you in shock, because the last time someone tried to say “hello” to you, you didn’t even blink. But when it’s Kyojuro? You look like Cupid shot you in both eyes.

🦋 Shinobu Kocho

“You’re talking so much today~ Did something happen?” You: “I saw you smile. I think my brain exploded. I am now running on 100% Shinobu-love energy.” She just giggles. Thinks it's adorable how you're cold and unreadable to everyone else, yet melting into a puddle the second she enters the room. She’ll use it to her advantage. Leans down with a teasing smile: “Tell me again how much you love me~”

🐍 Obanai Iguro

This man…is frozen. You: heart pupils, whispering about how cute he looks when he’s annoyed Obanai: 🧍 He’s internally combusting. “I—why do you talk to me like that?? You don’t even say hi to Mitsuri.” You: "Because she’s not you 🥺💘" His brain short-circuits. He will now protect you with his life.

�� Tengen Uzui

You're sitting on his lap, babbling about how his earrings sparkle and how his laugh cured your chronic sadness, while everyone else watches you like you’re a brand-new person. “BAAAABE,” he grins, “You’re so extra—AND I LOVE IT.” He thrives off your obsession. Will absolutely strut like a peacock anytime you go into loverboy/girl mode. The second someone else tries to speak to you? You deadpan silence them. He finds it hilarious.

🌸 Mitsuri Kanroji

You cling to her arm with literal hearts in your eyes, going on and on about how her hair looks like strawberry candy and how you’d die if she ever stopped smiling. Mitsuri: 🥺💖💗💕 “You’re so cuuuuute when you talk!! I didn’t even know your voice could sound like that!” You're shy when others look, but with her? You're all wiggles, giggles, and lovey stares. She eats it up and might even squeal every time you start gushing.

🌪️ Sanemi Shinazugawa

You: 🥹 staring up at him like he hung the moon Sanemi: “...Why’re you lookin’ at me like that.” You: “Your hair’s so white. Like a snow angel. I love you. Have I told you? I love you so much. You’re so angry. It’s so hot.” Sanemi.exe has stopped working. “You didn’t even say a word to the Kakushi earlier but now you won’t shut up???” You just smile dreamily and play with his sleeve. He groans but he’s bright red and secretly enjoying every second.

🪨 Gyomei Himejima

You: clinging to his sleeve while gushing about his voice sounding like heaven and safety and soft rain Gyomei: 🧎 “My child, you are so precious.” You don’t speak to others. You don’t even look at them. But Gyomei? You’re a love-struck poet. He always listens gently, hands folded, smiling softly at your endless babble. He says he doesn’t deserve your love, but secretly? You are the light of his life.

Let me know if you want a MHA version too because omg I WILL DO IT 😭

#demon slayer #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba #kny x y/n #kny x you #kny x reader #kny #merafan

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whiteraven87 · 24 days ago

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The Flame That Never Fades - chapter 9 - Sad Girl (9/16)

pairing: Toto Wolff x Victoria Lorenz (Original Character)

summary: She's young, fiery, naive and blindly in love. He's older, married, powerful and dangerously irresistible. To him, she was an obsession, an escape, a desire. To her, he was everything. The Flame that Never Fades is a story of forbidden love in the world of Formula 1, born from lust… and ending in something that can never be undone.

warnings: age gap (28 years), forbidden romance, obsession, desire, dark romance, smut, infidelity, emotional manipulation, dominant older man, angst, longing, possessiveness, emotional pain, toxic dynamics, no promise for happy ending.

word count: 37k

read on: AO3 - Wattpad - Tumblr

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my other finished fanfiction: The Unstoppable Series - Masterlist [Toto WolffxOC]

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chapters until now:

Prologue 1: Middle of the Night 2: Frozen 3: Shameless 4: Lilith 5: Ruthless 6: The Machine 7: Ride 8: No One Like You 9: Sad Girl

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Chapter 9: Sad Girl

Being a mistress on the side It might not appeal to fools like you Creeping around on the side Would not be something you would do But you haven't seen my man You haven't seen my man (…) He's got the fire and he walks with it He's got the fire and he talks with it His bonny on the side, bonny on the side Makes me a sad sad girl His money on the side, money on the side Makes me a sad sad girl I'm a sad girl… Sad Girl - Lana Del Ray

One week later, Miami Grand Prix – Saturday night, Mercedes hotel

Since arriving in Miami, Victoria had consistently avoided Toto.

During debriefings – she stayed silent. In the paddock – she focused only on data. Even after a brilliant qualifying session that earned her P2, she didn't look at him once. She accepted congratulations from the team with a cool smile and disappeared into the elevator before Toto could get close.

But he knew. He knew he could no longer pretend it didn't hurt. He couldn't bear the coldness in her eyes, the silence that echoed even in his dreams.

That evening, he paced the hotel corridor for a long time before finally knocking on her door.

Once. Twice. Silence.

He was about to walk away when he heard the lock turn. The door opened slowly.

She stood in the doorway. Wearing his old hoodie, her long blonde hair loose, eyes tired and glassy.

"What do you want, Toto?"

"To talk. Please."

She didn't reply. She stepped aside in silence, letting him in.

He closed the door. His heart pounded like it had the first time he walked into her hotel room in Abu Dhabi.

"Why are you running from me?"

"Because I can't do this anymore," she said immediately, her voice trembling. "Because it's tearing me apart, Toto. Because every moment and night with you, every touch, every second... is an illusion. And I don't want illusions anymore."

He fell silent. Looked at her as if someone had just pulled the ground out from beneath him.

"Victoria..."

"No, let me finish," she whispered, stepping closer, placing her hand on his chest.

"You always go back to her. And that's okay. Susie is your life, Jack is your child, your home. And me?"

She looked into his eyes.

"I'm just a moment. A breath between lies. A lover you hold in the dark and pretend doesn't exist in the daylight. And I know, I know you never promised me anything. You told me you wouldn't love me. That you'd choose Susie. But I... I still hoped. Because I'm an idiot, Toto."

She began to cry. Quietly, without shaking. Tears so deep they could no longer be held back.

"Every night, you go back to her. You fall asleep beside her. You look at her the way you'll never look at me. With love. With devotion. With tenderness. And I... I waited. I always waited."

Toto trembled. He stepped forward slowly. Took her face in his hands.

"I don't want to lose you," he whispered.

"But you'll never be mine. I'll never be your first thought, your first choice. I'll never be... your home."

"Don't say that..." His voice broke. "I... I don't know what's happening to me. I've never wanted anyone like I want you. No one's ever been so... mine."

Then he kissed her. Not like before. Not with hunger or urgency. But with tenderness. With despair. With a love he didn't know how to name. Their lips met softly, lingeringly, delicately.

His hands slid to her waist. She clung to him as if she never wanted to let go.

He lifted her. Without a word.

He laid her gently on the bed, as if she were made of porcelain. Unzipped her hoodie. Took off her pants. Parted her knees.

Entered her slowly, deeply, never breaking eye contact. No rush. No anger.

Just them. Breath to breath. Heart to heart.

"Beautiful..." he whispered in Polish, kissing her forehead. "Mine. Only mine. No one will ever touch you the way I do."

"I love you," she whispered. "Only you."

He made love to her for a long time, with a gentleness they had never shared before.

And when they reached the peak together, trembling, Toto whispered:

"You're everything I have... in the shadows. And I can't leave you."

She wrapped her arms around him, closed her eyes. And for a moment, she pretended that the shadows were her home.

***

The morning came too soon, but for the first time, it didn't mean the end.

Victoria lay still, her head resting against Toto's bare chest. His hand lay on her hip—calm, warm, familiar. Their legs were tangled beneath the thin blanket, skin to skin, breath to breath.

It was bright. The curtains hadn't been drawn, and the morning light poured into the room like a silent witness to the truth of their night. And yet—it didn't hurt. Not this time.

Because he had stayed.

He hadn't left afterward. He didn't put on his pants in a rush, didn't whisper "I have to go back" with his eyes fixed on the door.

He fell asleep beside her. Deeply. As if only here could he truly rest.

Victoria gazed at his face. Peaceful. Less tense than usual. A faint smile playing on his lips. As if this man, who held the whole world in his hands, had allowed himself to be weak in her arms.

She raised her hand and gently traced his jaw, the line of his brow, his hair. She felt his body respond slightly, as if he were dreaming something good.

Then his eyelids fluttered.

"You're here," she whispered before he was fully awake.

He looked at her. He didn't answer right away. He slid his hand along her back, pulled her closer, until their bodies met again, slowly, naturally, as if they had done this for years.

"I didn't want to leave," he said softly, in Polish. "I couldn't... not tonight."

She closed her eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek.

"I was afraid you'd never stay."

"And I, that I wouldn't know how." He threaded his fingers through her hair. "But I don't want to keep running from what I feel, Victoria..."

She looked at him, trembling—though it wasn't just pain. It was hope. The shadow of love.

"But Susie..."

He sighed deeply. His eyes were tired.

"Susie is my home. But you... you're the fire that reminds me I'm still alive."

He brushed her lips. Gently. Tender, soft kisses, as if asking for forgiveness.

Then he whispered, with such tenderness it hurt:

"You are wild, beautiful. You're my sin. But also my refuge."

"Just for a moment?" she asked. "Or for more?"

He hesitated. Then held her tighter.

"I don't know. But today, you are mine. And no one will take you away."

She nestled into him. Without a word. She didn't want more. Not now. Because for the first time, he stayed. For the first time, they had fallen asleep entwined. And for the first time—he woke up next to her.

That was enough to feel that there was still something between them beyond the night.

Though they both knew that one day, the sun would rise again and take it all away.

But today... this morning was theirs.

***

The sun drifted lazily through the half-closed curtains, casting golden streaks over the white sheets and the bare shoulders of the woman lying beside him.

Victoria was fast asleep. Turned on her side, arm tucked under her cheek, lips slightly parted and brow faintly furrowed, as if even in sleep, something touched her too deeply. Her hair had fallen over her face, one strand moving with each breath.

Toto lay still, propped on his elbow, gazing at her in a way he never had before.

Not like a protégé. Not like a lover.

But like a woman who had turned his world upside down, making him, for the first time... afraid that this feeling might go further than he had ever planned.

He had only wanted her touch. Her surrender. Her body. Her warmth that soothed all his unrest. Just that. That's how he had justified it to himself.

But now, looking at her asleep in his arms after a night filled with tenderness and whispers, he felt something more. Something he didn't dare to name.

Because if he called it love... everything would fall apart.

He reached out and gently brushed the strand of hair from her face. She didn't stir. She only sighed softly, as if his touch had reached into her dream.

"My..." he whispered in Polish. "So beautiful. So real."

He closed his eyes for a moment. And then came the image of Susie — sitting at breakfast with Jack, her laughter, her warmth, that familiar scent of domestic safety. The family he loved. The one he had sworn loyalty to. Who trusted him without question.

Then he looked at Victoria again. With a stress-bitten nail, a tiny scar above her brow, and those eyes that held the pain of the whole world.

How was he supposed to stop wanting her?

How could he pull away, when her body seemed like the only place he could truly breathe?

He was afraid. Afraid of what was growing between them. Afraid that it would become harder and harder to return to his wife and look her in the eyes without comparing.

Victoria shifted and rolled onto her back. Her eyes opened—sleepy, gentle. And when they met his, there was no question, no regret, no demand.

Only one thing: you're still here.

Toto leaned down and kissed her softly on the forehead. Then on her temple. Then briefly on her lips.

"Good morning, my wild soul."

"Let's not say good morning yet," she whispered.

"Let's stay a little longer... somewhere where no one else exists."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. For the first time, not out of desire. But out of fear that maybe he no longer knew how to live without her.

And she closed her eyes, nestled against his chest, listening to the rhythm of a heart that—though it beat in the name of another woman—this one night... beat only for her.

***

The day in Miami was sunny, loud, sticky with humidity and emotions lingering between the paddocks like the hidden scent of gasoline. Everyone was on the move—cameras, sponsors, engineers. No one noticed glances that lingered a fraction too long.

For the first time since it all began, something had changed.

Toto and Victoria walked side by side to the morning briefing, saying nothing. They kept their distance. They didn't touch. But they didn't need to. The silence between them was no longer just heavy—it was something more. Something that demanded to be acknowledged.

He looked at her differently. Not like a driver. Not like a woman he desired. But with something that broke his own rules.

Because that night, something inside him had opened. Something that no longer wanted to close.

During the briefing, Victoria sat with her head down, analyzing data on the tablet, offering sharp, professional insights that left no room for emotion.

But Toto saw.

He saw how she avoided his gaze. How her hands trembled—though no one else would notice. How she breathed deeper when he stood too close. And that she didn't call him "boss," not even with the usual irony.

When their eyes met, he drowned in hers—eyes he now knew better than his own hands. And she looked away. Not out of coldness. Out of fear.

Because now, it was different.

After the meeting, she was the first to leave. Slowly, as if every step weighed heavy.

Toto followed. He caught up to her only behind the paddock, where no one else was around.

"Victoria."

She stopped.

But she didn't turn around right away. She stood still, arms crossed over her chest. Then looked at him over her shoulder.

"We can't look at each other like that, Toto," she said quietly. "We can't breathe in the same room like this. Because if we do... I won't be able to walk away."

"What if I don't want you to walk away?"

"You never want me to walk away," she said with a bitter smile. "But you never want me to truly stay either."

He fell silent.

"You think nothing changed after that night. But it did," she whispered. "You stayed with me until morning. You looked at me differently. You touched me like you knew me... like you loved me. And then... you put the suit back on. The mask. The role of husband and father."

She took a step back.

"So we have to learn how to breathe again. I... have to. Because you can go back to your world. And I'm just the air between your breaths."

And she walked away. Not abruptly. Not dramatically. Quietly. With dignity.

But every step tore Toto apart from the inside.

He stood there for a long time, heart caught in his throat.

Because he realized that... he had truly fallen in love. With her. With this young, fiery woman.

And it might already be too late to fix it.

Miami, late evening

The warm glow of streetlights trickled through the curtains, casting golden patches on the hotel room walls. Victoria sat in the armchair by the window, wearing a thin shirt and underwear. She stared into the distance—not at the sky, not at the city, but into herself.

And then... there was a knock.

She opened the door slowly. He was standing there. In a white shirt, the top two buttons undone. His eyes held a shadow of unease, but also something else—an unhidden, urgent need.

"Please don't go..." he said quietly.

She didn't answer with words. She simply stepped aside to let him in.

He closed the door behind him, then just stood there, gazing at her as if trying to memorize every detail. He stepped closer. And then, he simply embraced her—tightly. As if it was all he needed.

Their kiss was like the first dive into deep water—calm, yet full of tension. He kissed her long and gently, his lips exploring hers, his tongue softly teasing. Her body responded instantly. She trembled under his touch, desire rising within her with every second.

He slowly unbuttoned her shirt, revealing her shoulders, her breasts, her belly. He looked at her as if she were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He slid her underwear off, knelt before her, and kissed the inside of her thigh—slowly, reverently. Then... his tongue traced upward, touching her exactly where she trembled the most.

Victoria tangled her fingers in his hair, her hips lifting slightly. A breath escaped her lips as his tongue drew a circle, then another—slower, deeper. She whispered his name, breathless, and he didn't stop. He worshipped her with his mouth, his hands, until her body unraveled in a long, shuddering climax.

But that was only the beginning.

He rose. Looked into her eyes. Slipped off his shirt, then his trousers. He was hard, ready, trembling with need. And when he entered her—slowly, deeply—they both went still. For a moment, they just were. Not moving. Just looking into each other, as if seeking answers in their gaze.

Then he began to move. Rhythmically. Intuitively. With tenderness that felt like music—building, pulsing, lifting them higher and higher. He whispered into her ear words she didn't fully understand, but felt with every part of her being:

"So beautiful..."

"My... fiery girl..."

And she was completely his. She trembled beneath him, met every movement, her body rising and falling with his. Orgasm after orgasm crashed over her in waves of pleasure, tearing her open and soothing her at once. She cried with longing and fulfillment, and he kissed her tears, never stopping.

When they finally reached their climax together, she cried out his name, and he collapsed onto her, still inside, his forehead resting at her neck, his hands over her heart.

They stayed like that. In silence. In truth.

"I don't want to pretend anymore," he whispered after a while. "Not tonight."

"And tomorrow?"

He was silent.

Then, cautiously, he looked into her eyes.

"Come with me. For a few days. Just us. There's a place—a private beach, a house. No one will find us. No one will have to pretend this isn't real."

"And Susie?"

He shut his eyes tightly.

"I'll tell her I have a business trip. A meeting with an investor. She... she won't ask. She's always trusted me."

Victoria remained quiet for a long time. She felt the weight of those words. Their price.

"So we're lying," she said softly. "But for these few days... I want you to be only mine."

"I will be," he whispered. "I swear it. Only yours."

He kissed her again. Gently. Slowly.

And for the first time, Victoria allowed herself to dream that maybe this moment could last a little longer than just the night.

-----------

Next -> chapter 10: Summertime Sadness

-----------

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iamkoolandloverengoku · 4 months ago

Text

“Smiles Like Knives”

(A Toxic Love Between Fire and Laughter)

I. The Knife Beneath the Silk

Ty Lee had always smiled too much. It was infuriating.

Azula hated it. That empty, weightless happiness, that way she laughed like the world hadn’t already decided to devour her whole. It made Azula want to break her just to see if she would still smile.

So, she did.

It started slow—little things, little tests. A flick of fire too close to Ty Lee’s wrist, just to watch her flinch. A whispered insult disguised as a joke, waiting for that fragile crack in her expression. Azula wanted to see how far she could push before something snapped.

But Ty Lee never snapped. She just took it, smiled through it. And maybe that was the worst part.

“You’re obsessed with me,” Ty Lee giggled one night, perched on Azula’s bed, arms wrapped around her knees.

Azula scoffed, running a brush through her hair, eyes cold in the mirror’s reflection. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Ty Lee tilted her head, watching her. “Then why do you only look alive when you’re hurting me?”

Azula’s fingers tightened around the brush.

She hated that Ty Lee could see her so clearly.

II. Kiss Me, Kill Me

Their first kiss tasted like blood.

A mission had gone wrong, a battle too close, and Azula had been furious. She had thrown Ty Lee against the wall, fingers tight around her wrist, anger sparking like fire along her veins.

“You were reckless,” Azula hissed, face inches from hers.

Ty Lee just smiled, that same unshakable, infuriating grin. “You were worried about me.”

Azula hated that she was right.

So she kissed her. Rough, desperate, full of frustration and something too raw to name. Ty Lee gasped into her mouth, but she didn’t pull away. She never pulled away.

Afterward, as they lay tangled in sheets, Ty Lee traced a finger down Azula’s arm, featherlight. “One day, you’re going to destroy me,” she whispered, almost like a prayer.

Azula turned her head, meeting those soft, knowing eyes.

“Yes,” she said. “I will.”

And Ty Lee just smiled.

III. A Love Like Poison

It was never enough.

Azula wanted all of her, every piece, every breath. She wanted Ty Lee to be hers in the way fire owns the air it consumes. She wanted her laughter, her warmth, her loyalty.

But Ty Lee was always slipping through her fingers. She was too bright, too free, too much.

“I saw you talking to Mai today,” Azula murmured one evening, tracing a line of heat along Ty Lee’s bare shoulder.

Ty Lee stretched like a cat, utterly unconcerned. “Yeah? And?”

Azula’s fingers tightened, nails pressing into skin. “And I don’t like sharing.”

Ty Lee turned, eyes unreadable in the dim candlelight. “You don’t own me, Azula.”

Azula laughed, low and sharp. “Oh, but I do.”

Ty Lee didn’t argue. She just kissed her, deep and slow, like she was memorizing her. Like she knew it wouldn’t last.

Because nothing with Azula ever did.

IV. The Trick No One Saw Coming

The fall of the Fire Nation came like a storm. And in the end, they were both swept away.

Azula burned. Her mind fractured, paranoia tightening around her like chains. She saw betrayal in every shadow, even in the eyes of the girl who had never left her side.

“You’re planning to abandon me, too,” Azula whispered, voice a razor’s edge, flames curling at her fingertips.

Ty Lee stood still, unafraid, just like always. “Azula—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Azula’s voice cracked, her control slipping like sand through her fingers. “You all leave in the end!”

She lunged, lightning sparking, fury and heartbreak igniting as one.

But this time, Ty Lee moved first.

A flick of her fingers—faster than lightning, faster than thought—and Azula collapsed, body locking, muscles frozen.

Silence.

Ty Lee knelt beside her, looking down with something like sadness. “I told you,” she murmured, brushing sweat-damp hair from Azula’s forehead. “One day, you’d destroy me.”

She pressed a kiss to Azula’s temple, gentle, lingering. A goodbye.

Then she walked away.

And for the first time in her life, Azula was powerless to stop her.

V. The Joke’s on You

Years later, in the quiet of a forgotten temple, Azula still dreams of laughter.

It haunts her, echoes through the hollow corridors of her mind. A voice she once held in her hands, slipping through like silk.

She wakes up gasping, reaching for something long gone.

But there is no warmth beside her. No soft, infuriating giggle.

Only silence.

And Azula, alone.

#ty lee atla #princess azula #tyzula

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leorosenberg · 11 months ago

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Lonely heart. Nightmares (pt1) Tybalt was looking at candle’s flame, which was casting reddish reflex on the walls. He had a bad feeling, but he didn’t understand why - Julia was staying in her room all day, and there was nothing to worry about… But Tybalt had a heavy heart. Tybalt sighed and pushed back a strand of hair from the forehead. He decided to check on Julia and got up from the armchair. After thinking about it, Tybalt didn’t put out the candle and left his room, trying not to make any noise - he didn’t want to wake somebody up in the middle of the night. He carefully closed the door and went to Julia’s room, trying to keep quiet.

In the night Capulet’s house was a dark and ominous place, full of shadows, where Tybalt felt especially lonely. Sunlight saved him during the day, but at night he was alone with himself and his thoughts, which ate him alive. Every night he was trying any ways to escape from obsessions, arising in his mind. It was exhausting training, reading, long walks… He even tried to write - poems full of pain and hopeless love, that he never showed to anyone. He was ashamed of them… Tybalt, proud heir of the Capulet, who writes tearful nonsense… Ridiculous! He couldn’t let himself be sentimental.

Every night became a nightmare for Tybalt. It was easier for him during the day, but at night it just became unbearable. He could only look for any way to distract… Or just crying all night. Nobody knows who is Tybalt Capulet in fact. Maybe even he himself doesn’t know. Orphan, duelist, son of a noble family… It was the image which saw people. The image which Tybalt made them see. Vulnerable boy, a stranger in his own house, sad ghost of Capulets who never showed his feelings for anyone. For anyone except Julia… Julia, who fell in love with this Montageu’s scoundrel. Tybalt almost coped with it. He knows that Julia would never be his… But it hurt him anyway. Even knowing that she will be Paris’ wife, Tybalt was jealous.

Julia loves Romeo, but Tybalt will not allow him to appear here. Tybalt will never let any Montague to be here.

Tybalt sighed again. Well, here he is tormenting himself again. He pursed his lips. No more thoughts. Tybalt went up to the second floor and headed for Julia's room - oh, he knows this way very well. How many times did he come here for these useless talks… She was never serious about his feelings. She only saw Tybalt as a cousin… Brother. Relative. And now, when this bastard appeared, Tybalt had no chance. He had no chance without Romeo also… But he didn't think about that.

Why does Julia, his little Julia, love Romeo? What did she find in him? Why even Julia is in love and only Tybalt is miserable?

-You will break a lot of girls' hearts… - saying Lady Capulet stroking her nephew's hair. - My handsome boy…

Tybalt didn't believe her. She always told him encouraging things. Tybalt thought that she was saying it just because they are relatives and he is an orphan who needs support. He didn't consider himself handsome… Mostly because nobody except Lady Capulet called him handsome. Tybalt didn't see “handsome boy” in the mirror. He saw only a ridiculous kid loved by no one except relatives… And even in their love he couldn't believe.

Tybalt frowned, approaching Julia's room - he saw the light under the door. Why doesn’t Julia sleep at such a late hour? Tybalt came closer and frozen in place - he heard voices from the room… And one of them was not Julia's. It also was not Romeo’s voice…

Mercutio.

Tybalt was shocked. He wanted to break into the room and start a scandal but tried to restrain himself. He didn't want to wake up the whole house. What does Mercutio need here? Tybalt decided to listen to their talk.

-He is so gloomy… - Mercutio

-It's just an image. - Julia

Who are they discussing?

-You are so different. Cousins, but looking like strangers. - Mercutio

What does he mean?

-I told it to you as a friend to friend. I hope… I hope you won't tell him. I'd like to deal with it myself. - Mercutio

-Ah… Sure. As you want. - Julia

-Montagues and Capulets… I never thought that I might like him. - Mercutio

Tybalt, barely standing on his feet, decided to show himself:

-Julia, why don't you sleep? It's too late for young girls.

He heard rustle when Julia answered.

-Ah… I just had been reading… - she said.

-You should have slept for hours. - Tybalt’s voice became serious.

Someone jumped into the bushes under Julia's balcony. Tybalt pretended not to notice it.

-I'm already going to bed! - Julia said. She extinguished the candle.

Tybalt sank to the floor and gasped nervously.

Mercutio likes him.

And he should do something with it.

The premonition didn't deceive him.

It is real trouble.

Tybalt ruffled his hair. Yes, mistress, girl's hearts. He thought. Tybalt couldn't say that he's happy about this news, but he was flattered… Someone (even if Mercutio) finds him handsome. Attractive. Someone saw the real Tybalt behind this image that he made.

“Cousins, but looking like strangers”

Mercutio was right. If you do not know that they are relatives, you will not guess about it. And they were different not only outwardly. Julia is the sun, Tybalt is the moon. Even Lady Capulet thinks so.

Tybalt got up from the floor and went to his room.

-I deserve to be loved. - he whispered into the void. Even be loved by Mercutio… Maybe he is not that bad. Could he be a good person? Tybalt didn't know. He will think about it tomorrow. Now he just wants to sleep. At last he wants to sleep.

#fanfic #tycutio #romeo es julia #romeo et juliette #romeo and juliet #fic writing #writers on tumblr #mercutio #magyar #fanfiction

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kaizoku-musume · 2 years ago

Text

Property Of

Entry #2 in @xxsycamore's Visions of Temptation kinktober event. I have a brief summary of my OC here for anyone interested.

Fandom: Ikepri

Pairing: Clavis x OC

Word count: 4k

Prompts: Biting/Marking | Dacryphilia

Walking down the corridor to their room, Lisette’s mind spun with possibilities. Clavis had told her he had a surprise for her, give me about twenty minutes and then head up to our room, you’ll love it and Lisette was torn between anticipatory and apprehensive. With Clavis, it was just as likely to be a sex thing as it was literally anything else. And it was just as likely to be something fun and relatively innocent (for her to enjoy, not always so much for everyone else) as it was something she had to talk him out of so he didn’t get hurt via Chevalier seeking revenge. It was unlikely to be the latter, thankfully, due to the location-Clavis-territory-and the time of night.

So, sex thing, probably. Which barely narrowed down the options. Clavis had millions of ideas he was open to trying: bondage (a favourite of theirs), temperature play (very fun-Lisette preferred cold and Clavis preferred hot), choking (which was a hard no-Clavis had been surprised about that one, given her obsession with his neck rivaled his for her legs, but Lisette was all too familiar with how easy it was to force someone unconscious by applying the right pressure for mere seconds, and how quickly death came after that. She probably had the knowledge to do it relatively safely, but the risk was too high for her).

The point is, by the time Lisette reached the door, she was no closer to figuring out what the surprise was than she had been when Clais first told her. All she could do was steady herself, hope it was nothing too outrageous, and open the door. She didn’t knock or announce herself because she knew Clavis would be all too eager to call out “come in” in the sultriest way imaginable just for laughs, exactly like last time, and she wasn’t sure she should make it too regular of a habit.

When the door swung open, her eyes immediately went toward the bed, where Clavis was splayed out on his side. He was an absolute vision in lace and frills: cotton thigh highs with ribboned garters, a skimpy top with a lisianthus floral print and two thin straps running underneath the flat cups, and a lace choker with a cute ribbon right at the center. All of that alone was mouth-watering, but it was the dog tag attached to the choker that had Lisette frozen. She couldn’t read it from the doorway but she knew what was on it, could sense the letters engraved on it deep in her gut, igniting an inferno that blazed through her.

“What does it say?” she asked anyway, because she was a glutton for punishment. She didn’t know if she could handle it if Clavis confirmed her suspicions; she already felt terribly off-kilter, about to keel over from his flagrant display.

Clavis had the smuggest look on his face as he teased, “Why don’t you come over here and find out?” Like a moth to a flame, Lisette did just that, all but stumbling forward in her haste. Clavis flopped down to lay flat on the bed so Lisette could clamber on top of him, striking a coy pose that she barely took notice of in her single-minded focus. Lisette gripped the tag and there, staring up at her in bold, near-indecipherable script, was exactly what she knew she would see.

Lisette’s.

The flash of heat that struck her was overwhelming. Lisette felt drunk with lust, stuck staring at the-the collar, is what it really was, proclaiming Clavis as hers. And Clavis knew it, egging her on as he simpered, “Like it?”

Lisette’s eyes snapped up to meet his. The amused look in them didn’t infuriate her, but it triggered a reaction so similar that she had to take a deep breath to calm down. Who knew hunger like this ran through the body the same way anger did, so all-encompassing? Focusing very, very hard on not entirely losing it, Lisette leaned down and kissed clavis, all teeth and tongue, laying claim to his mouth. When she pulled back to allow Clavis to breath, she tugged on the tag, holding it tight in her fist, something in her viciously satisfied at how Clavis’ neck tipped up a bit to accommodate her grip. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re sobbing,” she promised.

Wordlessly, with a shit-eating grin, Clavis gestured to the side of the bed, where the lube and harness sat on top of the covers. Lisette hadn’t even noticed them, her attention having been fully caught by Clavis himself. “Such a strong reaction,” Clavis quipped as Lisette tore her clothes off in record speed, “What brought it on, I wonder?” When Lisette was naked, he helped her with the harness, hands skimming her thighs more than necessary, slipping underneath the leather briefly to test how wet she was.

“You think you’re so cute,” Lisette narrowed her eyes at him, wasting no time situating herself between his legs. She went to rub her cock along his entrance just to tease him, maybe make him feel a fraction of the franticness Lisette herself was dealing with, but she paused at the sight of his hole. It was already glistening with lube and slightly puffy from use. Twenty minutes, he’d said. Too much time to just put on the outfit, but enough to open himself up for her in preparation. Lisette had to take another deep breath; millions of fights against people with different kinds of skills and weapons since childhood and it was the actions of a man who was practically begging her to fuck him that was going to be the death of her.

“Sobbing, Clavis,” she repeated, sliding into him all the way to the hilt in one smooth thrust, punching a strained gasp out of Clavis. He recovered far too quickly for Lisette’s liking, opening his mouth to say something (probably to goad her even more, because her husband had no self-preservation instincts), so Lisette didn;t give him any time to adjust to the feeling of her inside him before starting up a fast, deep rhythm. Clavis made a sound halfway between a groan and a laugh, wrapping his legs around her waist.

“You are a menace, you know that?” Lisette snapped her hips forward. She wanted to get the first, easiest orgasm out of the way, because it wouldn’t be until later that she got what she wanted.

Clavis tipped his head back and laughed, the motion highlighting his neck, the choker (which meant he did it on purpose just to rile her up even more, fuck, Lisette was going to wreck this man), the tag bouncing with every thrust. “Turnabout is fair play, my dear,” he said, “You didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you?”

“Oh, you asshole.” Lisette knew exactly what he was talking about: two weeks ago, she had shown up in his office in stockings and a plug and had tormented him with the knowledge until he finished work, not allowing him to touch her until he had done so. And now Clavis was retaliating by driving her insane in turn.

“There’s no call for that, is there?” Clavis cooed amidst sighs of pleasure, “Didn’t I fuck you exactly how you wanted me to?” Lisette bit her lip at the memory of being taken on his desk. This wouldn’t do at all: Clavis was still far too coherent, and she refused to let him have the upper hand. She shifted, angling her hips to strike against where she knew his prostate was. Clavis cursed and reached out to hold onto the straps of her harness as she struck with unerring accuracy. “Oh dear, am I-ah!-am I winding you up?” he choked out.

“Make your jokes now, because I doubt you’ll be able to when you’re crying your eyes out,” Lisette warned. She paid attention to the hitches in his breathing, the tensing in his thighs. He was getting close, but would need a push, and she didn’t intend to touch his cock yet; best to save that for later so he didn’t get too overstimulated. Luckily, Lisette knew the best way to make him come untouched.

She leaned down and licked a stripe up his neck, right across the choker. “Ah, wait-” Clavis twitched, knowing what was in store, but it was too late: Lisette latched onto his neck with a deep growl, teeth and mouth clamping down, biting imprints and sucking a mark onto his skin as she grinded against his prostate. With a sharp cry, Clavis came, tightening around her. Lisette fucked him through it before pulling out briefly to reapply lube to the strap, sliding back in right after, taking delight in the way he whimpered. “Fuck, I love that trick,” she said.

Before Clavis had fully recovered, she was moving inside him again. Clavis squirmed and moaned, caught between trying to push back onto her cock and pull away. “Well, babe?” Lisette goaded, “Am I fucking you exactly how you want?”

Clavis met her gaze evenly, patented smirk still displayed even as he panted for breath. “I’m not noticing any tears, oh wife of mine. I don;t think you’re fucking me hard enough,” he said with a haughty tilt to his head. Every movement kept drawing Lisette’s attention right back to that choker and tag.

“Oh, you think so?” Lisette played along, “Well, far be it from me to disappoint. Don’t worry, oh husband of mine, I’ll be sure to step it up from here.” Lisette finally gave attention to the rest of Clavis’ ensemble, leaning down to lick at Clavis’s nipple over the lingerie, rubbing the other one with the pad of her thumb. The lavender material darkened and became slightly see-through with her spit, a single patch right over his nipple, and something about the sight was so obscene she had to do it to the other one to make it even.

“Like it?” Clavis asked, “I knew the-ah!-the choker would be enough, but it-mmmmm-matched, so I couldn’t pass up the oppor-oh!-the opportunity.”

“It’s pretty,” Lisette said around his nipple, nipping at the nub. She slid her free hand along his thigh, feeling along the stockings and garter. She tugged once on the strap of the garter, snapping it against his skin. Clavis jolted with a yelp, raising himself up into her before lowering back to the bed like he didn’t know where to go. For his third orgasm, she’d have to put him in a position that gave her better access to his legs-they needed some marks of their own.

Speaking of, Lisette moved on from tormenting Clavis’ nipples to address the strips of skin peeking out between the thin straps of the top, right at the transition from his pecs to his ribs. She set about sucking hickeys there, mouth catching skin and fabric as she worked.

“I’m glad you appreciate it,” Clavis ran a hand through her hair-the downside to trying to build his second orgasm up slowly was giving him the ability to recover, Lisette was realizing. Maybe she should just pick up the pace soon. “I wanted you to realize what a sight you are when you wear outfits like this for me and I knew just telling you how beautiful you are wouldn’t make you fully understand. The only way was to show you that however you feel looking at me like this is the same way I feel.” And that was-well. Clavis was right that Lisette never really understood the appeal to things like lingerie even though she was more than willing to put it on to surprise him. And it was just like Clavis to want to show her how much her actions meant to him by flipping things around on her-that was part of how he showed his love, after all.

Lisette just had to kiss him for that, so she did, surging forward and cupping his cheeks in her palms as her tongue sought refuge in his mouth. She drank her fill of him, mapping out the cavern of his mouth, teeth occasionally nipping at his bottom lip. Clavis wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed her back, faithfully opening up to let her in, sucking enthusiastically on her tongue.

Lisette hooked the back of Clavis’ knee under her elbow to spread him wide, maintaining an angle that avoided his prostate while fucking him. With her free hand, she took his cock in a sure grip and started stroking him, matching the quickening pace of her thrusts. Clavis whined and tightened his hold on her, hands clutching at her back, wrapping his other leg more firmly around her hip. Lisette sped up even more, fucking into him hard and fast, hips slapping together, her hand twisting around the head of his cock as she fisted him. She paid close attention to Clavis’ tells: when his legs and arms started to shake and his breath took a whiny, whistley pitch, Lisette bit into his bottom lip and tugged while she dug her thumb into his slit, sending him tumbling over the edge once more.

Lisette pulled away just a tad to get the lube again as she eased him through it before stopping for a moment, but instead of pulling out, she simply coated her index and middle fingers and slipped them in his ass alongside her cock, spreading the lube around as much as she could. Clavis made a sound like he was dying, head tossing and turning on the pillow. She soothed him through it, running her free hand along his side and pressing open-mouthed kisses along the patch of skin beneath his earlobe. Clavis greedily rasped in air as she removed her fingers, somehow managing to make it sound like he was laughing as he did.

She leaned back until she was sitting up straight on her knees and lifted Clavis’ legs, slinging them over her shoulders. Clavis watched her with glassy, half-focused eyes, and Lisette admired the sight of him, flushed all the way down to his chest, hear a sweaty, tangled mess on his forehead, stomach near painted white in streaks of his come, hickeys blooming to life on his skin. “Another, then?” Clavis sighed more than said. He glanced down at where her cock was still buried in him, licking his lips at the sight. Lisette wasn’t sure if that was intentional or just a subconscious reaction.

“I already told you, didn’t I?” Lisette rocked forward once, twice, testing. Clavis tipped his head back and moaned, half ecstasy, half agony. “I’m not stopping until you’re sobbing.” She kept a shallow, slow rhythm for now. Lisette wanted him crying from pleasure, not pain.

Clavis bit his lip, but desperate whines and whimpers spilled out anyway. He blindly reached out and grabbed the pillow for support, fingers digging in so tightly Lisette was convinced he would tear through it. This is what Lisette loved the most about sex: watching Clavis lose himself in pleasure.

Lisette turned her head and began laying kisses on Clavis’ knees, enjoying the feel of soft cotton on her lips. Her hands roamed his thighs, rubbing creases in the thin socks as she periodically squeezed hard enough that tomorrow, there would be purpling, finger-shaped bruises. She dipped underneath the hem to tease at the skin underneath, sliding along the straps of the garters, occasionally snapping them just to hear him cry out every time.

“No running commentary this time?” Lisette prodded. She waited until he opened his mouth to quip back to bite down on the meat of his thigh, using her grip on the garter straps to pull him onto her cock. Instead of a sly comment, a wail left Clavis’ throat. Lisette laughed against his thigh, laying biting kisses as far as she could reach.

“H-how cruel,” Clavis said, “My lovely love-hah!-er seems to have it oouuuut! for me.”

“You think that’s cruel?” Lisette pitched her voice low. The way his legs clenched down on her shoulders was a good indication that his ass was doing the same thing on her cock. “Lulu, you have no idea what I have in store for you.” She was going to break her husband.

Somehow, looking half delirious and gasping like he could barely catch his breath, Clavis was still able to speak mostly coherently enough to challenge, “So show me. Show me how much you love me.” The fucker even had the gall to flick the tag proclaiming him as hers.

Lisette grinned, feeling downright feral. In all her life, no one had ever made her feel as out of control as Clavis did. “You asked for it, babe,” she said. Lisette reached down and ran one finger along his gradually hardening cock. She was maybe giving herself too much credit, interpreting his expression as regret, but he definitely had no idea what he’d gotten himself into and now he knew it. She took him in a light, gentle grip, hand feathering up and down his oversensitive shaft. Clavis whined and tried to shift his hips away, but speared on her cock as he was with knees hooked over her shoulders and no strength to lift them off, he had nowhere to go.

Lisette kept an ear out for his safeword, should he choose to use it. This was more than she’d ever put him through before, and she certainly didn’t want to push him too far-just far enough. But all that left Clavis were encouraging, if overwhelmed, sounds. “Lisette!” he shrieked when she rubbed her thumb across the tip of his cock. She wondered how he’d react if she took him in her mouth. Too bad she wasn’t willing to pull out of him to find out; she’d have to save it for next time.

Clavis writhed as Lisette stroked her cock. She routinely sped up and slowed down just to torment him, dragging her thumb across the glans under the head every now and then. Her thrusts into him had picked up a bit of speed as well, and the combined sensations had Clavis shaking non-stop. She could tell she was just a few more sensations away from where she wanted him, and she was ready to get him there. “Hey, love,” she waited until he was looking at her before continuing, “you want more?”

Clavis grinned as soon as he met her gaze, loopy and happy and too, too sweet for all Lisette was putting him through. “Always,” he promised, a wet sheen to his eyes. Yep, now was definitely the time.

“Then I’ll give it to you. I hope you’ve been working on your flexibility,” Lisette leaned forward until her head was right above Clavis’, bending him nearly in half. Hands braced on the bed, she immediately went back to fucking Clavis, skimming over his prostate every few thrusts, his cock trapped between their bellies. Clavis whined at the change in angle and constant friction on his cock, his hands scrabbling against her biceps.

Lisette sucked hickeys onto Clavis’ neck, following the line of his choker, making her own collar for his neck. Clavis’ fingers dug into the sides of her shoulders as her thrusts punched wet, squeaky “ah, ah, ah!”s out of him. Lisette’s teeth worried at the thin skin beneath his jaw while her tongue soothed the latest mark she made and finally: Clavis broke.

His voice warbled on a moan and his next breath was a weak and shaky sob. Lisette spent a few moments licking and kissing the fresh bruises in something of an apology before leaning up to get a good look at his face. There they were, tears springing from Clavis’ eyes and slipping down the side of his face or getting caught in his fluttering eyelashes.

“There we go,” she brought one hand up to swipe at the tears trailing down, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Clavis opened and closed his mouth a couple of times like he was trying to say something, but all that came out were hitching sobs. Lisette nudged up against his prostate just to watch him struggle more. “Lis!” he shouted, nails scratching down her arms.

“Hmm? Something you want to say, babe?” she languidly rolled into him, delighted by how every movement brought a fresh wave of tears, a fresh round of sobs. He fought to keep his eyes open and focused on her even though tears obstructed his vision. “Is that a no?” She traced the lettering on the tag. Something terrible in her had the sudden urge to grab it and yank. She made a mental note to bring it up with Clavis later-lords knew he would love the idea.

“Lisette!” Clavis keened, arching his neck. Oh, well. Scratch that, then; he probably figured out exactly what she was thinking. Definitely something to try next time, then. “Lis, Lis, please,” Clavis begged, hands going reflexively to his face to either hide or wipe away his tears before he adjusted and held on to her wrists. The sight had Lisette take pity on him. This couldn’t be easy for Clavis, being seen crying so heavily like this, but he was willing to withstand it just for her because it was what she wanted.

“Okay, love, I gotcha,” Lisette rocked steadily into Clavis as she lay down almost flat on top of him, licking up his tears.

“Lis, fuck, fuck, oh god!” Clavis clutched at her back, well beyond the point of pretending to have some semblance of control. “Lis, love, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t-” Clavis kept chanting as Lisette fucked him, stomach grinding against his cock. A few more moments and he was coming with a scream, head tossed back in rapture.

Lisette could tell when the first wave passed him and he had moved on to the aftershocks by how his quaking legs had settled to intermittent shivers, how his cock had stopped twitching and spurting against her stomach and began to soften, how his desperate gasping sobs had settled to shallow breaths. Eyes half-lidded, Clavis peered hazily up at Lisette, head tipped up almost shyly. Recognizing the request for what it was, Lisette kissed him. Clavis did what he could to kiss back, but he was clearly out of commission. “You good?” Lisette asked. He nodded, so slowly, gently, Lisette took his legs off her shoulders and lowered them to the bed. With the same level of care, she slipped out of him, smoothing his hair back when he inevitably flinched.

“I’ll be right back,” she kissed his forehead as she got off the bed and headed to the bathroom, taking off the harness on the way. A bath would be needed, but moving Clavis too soon didn’t sound like a good idea, so for now, Lisette just wet a washcloth and filled a cup of water and brought them back out to him, lightly sweeping the washcloth over the mess on his stomach as she dripped a few sips of water into Clavis’ mouth before setting the glass on the nightstand. Clavis groaned and threw his arm over his eyes. “You coming back to the land of the living?” Lisette teased.

“Unfortunately,” Clavis said, voice scratchy. Was that from the yelling or crying? Or both? He sighed, scrubbing at his eyes.

Lisette used the rag to clean her own stomach once she was done taking care of Clavis. She climbed into bed next to him, settling against his side. They curled against each other, legs tangled together, encouraging Clavis to rest his head on her shoulder. She toyed with the tag once more-the fire had banked for now, but the sight of something with her name right there on his neck was still overpowering in a way.

“How’d you know?” It was probably a pointless question; it didn’t take a genius to figure out her possessive streak. But to make the leap from hickeys and bite marks to what was essentially a collar? Clavis had come up with that idea somehow, and more than that, had a pretty spot on guess as to what her reaction would be.

“Oh, that was easy,” Clavis explained, “I knew how you’d feel about it because it was exactly how I felt about it.” That made a lot of sense, actually. If Lisette was possessive, Clavis was someone who enjoyed the thought of being possessed. “I was thinking of wearing it to the next meeting, maybe, or using it as an accessory for the next royal event we’re obligated to attend,” Clavis said off-handedly, like he didn’t just a lit match onto a gasoline drenched wood house.

The mere thought of Clavis wearing it in public had that previously banked fire roaring back to life. “Please don’t,” she said, distressed, “At least not without warning me first. I think I’d lose my mind.”

“No, no, I think I’m onto something here,” Clavis giggled gleefully, nuzzling into her, “Anytime I want you to immediately ravish me, I’ll simply put it on.”

“Fuck, I think I would,” Lisette blurted. She didn’t trust herself not to jump Clavis the second she caught sight of the choker and tag. Clavis laughed and laughed and laughed. In the morning, Clavis would wake Lisette up with his lips and tongue and fingers. In the morning, they’d have an actual conversation about when he could wear it in public. And when he’d get out of bed, he would fall straight to the floor, and Lisette would pick him up and carry him to the bathroom for the next round.

#My fics #Ikepri #Visions of Temptation 2023 #Kinktober #Age appropriate

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tea-the-reconstructor · 1 year ago

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hehehehehe new TTRPG just got delivered and oh my gosh it's so pretty

Eat the Reich by Rowan, Rook and Decard is genuinely one of the most stylish looking games I've seen in a hot minute, and while I've yet to have a chance to run a game, I'm obsessed with it nonetheless! The basic premise is that it's 1943, Europe is in flames during the 2nd World War, and you are all a part of a crack squadron of vampires being sent to occupied Paris to do one thing and one thing only; Drink all of Hitler's blood. There's a full list of the stuff I got and my thoughts below the cut.

It arrived in this really cool manila folder, like just look at the detail!! like this alone would be such a neat thing to have sitting on my desk just as a prop, but this is only the beginning

The book itself is nothing short of a masterpiece, and honestly the pictures do not do it justice. The title is done with a really nice glossy finish, the cover has an amazing texture along the bottom and back to give the sensation of dried blood. the inside also folds out!! that little slit in the front is a full piece of art, and it really sells the appearance of peering into a coffin. The style of the entire book is genuinely so crunchy and good and I wanna put it in my mouth-

There's also the bookmark, coin, and patches which, once again, are so stylish and feel so high quality. I've been just stimming with the coin since I got it, the patches are so bright and look so pretty, and the bookmark is just fantastic. Pretty much everything from this is something I'd genuinely wanna get tattooed on me. There is one more thing I got, arguably the most important piece from this entire set...

WE GOT PIN-UPS BABY WOOOOOOOOOO! So the game comes with six characters you can play as (there are options to make your own), and there are associated character sheets within the book, but good golly these got me blushin' up a storm so hard that they can all smell the blood in my cheeks. From left to right, top to bottom, we have: - Cosgrave, a hackney necromancer who's on the run from the undead mafia of East London, crooked, charming, and damn lucky. - Nicole, a resistance guerrilla fighter and demolitions expert. Turned by her girlfriend and packing hella heat, she wants to meet a glorious end in battle. - Iryna, the Old Money occultist and the black sheep of her clan, who provides a significant portion of the funding to F.A.N.G. - Chuck, a whole-ass-real-ass corpse eatin' cowpoke. Genuinely a sweetheart, if you can look past that bit. He's on this mission not just to survive, but to earn freedom after eating a county sherrif and half his deputy. - Astrid, an ex-fighter pilot that was bitten by something in the frozen taiga, now bearing the soul of a wild predator within her. - Flint, the half-human half-bat, all nightmare. He's a cave-dwelling hunter who may or may not talk, possibly because he's just shy. Each of the characters have their own unique traits, abilities and stuff and I wanna kiss them all so bad it's not even funny man they're all so goddamn fine I'd let them drink me dry for just a single chance to feel the sweet nip of their lips against my skin, like being granted by a mere glimpse of heaven while still on earth simply by the hand of some foul creature who has not seen the light of God in far too long for simply doing what they must to survive, just. I need help.

Anyway uh. Eat the Reich is a goddamn beautiful game, thank you Rowan, Rook and Decard for making hot nazi-killing vampires that have not paid rent within my mind despite occupying it since like August of last year.

#ttrpg #ttrpg stuff #eat the reich #I know Chuck would treat me right #and I want to do [REDACTED] to Flint and Astrid #maybe at the same time

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cryiling · 2 years ago

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in honor of totk NOT winning goty 🫡 here is my notes app from when totk first came out and I wrote all my thoughts abt the game down

today totk got released!! and I played for 8 hours straight 😭 I'm not suuper far in the game yet, I sort of just started the rito quest with tulin, but here are some things I love and dislike about the game so far:

first of all I love the archaic outfit 😊 however I'm very sad that it only does 1 protection because I wanted to wear it all the time AJDBAJDB

I love everything about the zonai, like the way they look, the music associated with them, the way they talk at the end of a shrine, the way you can tell something is of zonai make just by looking at it, like that's how you know a concept design is well done ✋ I'm so fascinated by how rauru looks, he's just so amazing

I do hate how extremely similar aspects of the great sky island are to the great plateau, though. "room of awakening" bro r u serious rn 😭 the way rauru follows you around like the king good bye. I just feel like this could have been done a little more uniquely so that it didn't feel like the great plateau with a texture pack slapped over it

there's also some things that I felt botw just did so much better than totk. like the way rauru's ghost would disappear felt very cheap and uneventful, like why does he just fade to 0 opacity and nothing else happens ?? at least with the king his ghost faded with the little blue flames and sparkles, it made it seem more interesting

I hate the inventory layout I'm sawryy 😭 the botw inventory looks very sleek and easy to comprehend, but the way the totk inventory is designed just feels very cheap and elementary to me. not the scrolling on one page instead of having multiple pages, that's not my issue. just the color design and how so much more information is crowded into each tiny box when you are selling things, it just confuses the player with too much info

uhh what else. oh! I also hate the animation for when you get the abilities at the beginning, and when you get those lights of blessing or whatever (honestly I hate that name too, why is it so long I literally can't remember it 😭). like why do the orbs with the abilities and blessings look so 2d and unfinished? they look like they were slapped on top as a fanmade effect rather than actually being a part of the game, and every time I see it, I feel removed from being immersed in the games because it's distracting

but I totally love the way the zonai statues are at the end of the shrines!!! the way they talk is SO 🙏🙏 like I'm totally obsessed with it. also!! this is very specific, but I love the music that plays during shrine battles, like why does that song go so hard fr

omg something else I love is the pony points system it's so cute 😭✋ and honestly it's a great incentive for me to use the stables, I don't think I used them that much in botw so I definitely appreciate this new addition

AND MY HORSES ARE HERE TOO IM SO HAPPY 🥺🥺

however I am devastated that we can't pet dogs ☹️ like was no one at nintendo listening to us when we were all asking abt it hello ??

this is more of a personal preference rather than a game quality thing but I AM SO HAPPY THERE'S PIRATES IN THIS GAME AAAAAAA i can't wait to go to lurelin village I rlly hope they let me join the pirates 🙏 (hi it's me from the future here, girl wtf why are the pirates literally just MONSTERS ON BOATS 🙁 give me real fucking pirates you cowards)

omg yeah I was obsessed with the frozen rito village ost, it had the core elements of the ost from botw but with that lonely haunted vibe and I was gonna cry omg it really set the mood and I loved listening to it 😭

ohh yeah something I didn't enjoy was how it felt like I was being overloaded with so much plot-heavy info, especially once I started the rito village quest. like yeah I get maybe playing for 8 hours in one day is probably gonna fry my brain and attention span but it just felt like they were telling me to do all these things and I just felt so overwhelmed that I literally had to put the game away and stop playing for the night 😭 I think if things were spaced out more for what they tell you then the plot might have been more digestible

oh yeah this is minor but I don't like how when you go to a new place it says "discovery!" and also when you cook a new food it says "new!" like it felt very commercial and broke the immersion in the game for me, there was literally no reason for it to be in the game? (upon playing the game further I've decided I don't mind the "discovery" notif. but I still don't like when it says "new!" on a food I cooked sorryyy)

OMG WAIT SOMETHING I LOVED was how link cycles through humming different things when he cooks!!! it's so cute and I love him for it 😭

also I loved the function of when you open a chest and get a weapon but your inventory is full, instead of having to close the chest drop a weapon and reopen the chest, they added the feature where your inventory pops up and you can drop a weapon while still in the chest so you don't have to switch back and forth. it was so relieving for me ✋

umm I definitely feel like there was more I wanted to say, I just forgot 😭 but let me just say, despite me having a lot of negatives on here, I still really enjoyed this game, and honestly aside from the things I mentioned I disliked, I love pretty much everything else about the game!! there's so much to love and appreciate, I really can't list it all or else I'd just be listing literally every aspect about this game ajdhskfj. so yeah. while I'm disappointed that I found parts of totk to be lesser than what I had hoped, I am still overall ecstatic about this game and I'm so excited to see what else I'll discover in this game!!!! (hey it's me as of writing this post, I definitely wrote this last paragraph to avoid getting bullied for not liking a lot of things LOLL)

hey I'm back (not as of writing this post, like a couple months after initially starting totk), listen ok I hate these stupid sage powers like 💀 they're literally not useful at all, I think tulin's is the only one I use regularly, and even then I'd rather have revali's gale bc at least it goes up ??

I've been watching other ppl play and I realize that actually yunobo and riju can kinda be useful when fighting large groups, like if you just activate yunobi's ability you don't really need to aim him, and he'll hit a bunch of monsters. same with riju, just activate her and shoot somewhere random and it'll do damage. but other than that, like sidon and mineru are useless 😭 also I get rlly annoyed when I'm trying to pick things up and tulin gets in the way like GIRL GO AWAY ugh it would just be so much better if the abilities were activated like the champions instead idk

ok I'm obsessed with the way rauru's ear twitches LOLL THAT'S SO RANDOM but in the memories it's just so satisfying to see

hm idk how to explain this but there's some aspects of this game that feel very aoc to me and it annoys me. like, the defend kara kara bazaar + gerudo village quests, and that one thing in hateno with the stupid pumpkins, idk but it totally threw me off guard with having to fight with npcs, like it felt very jarring to have in the middle of totk. i never liked aoc or any hyrule warriors games so that's probably why I don't like this very much, but yeah I just didn't enjoy it very much

god I can't describe how much I hate everything abt mineru I'm sorry I just hate her bc like,, bro I hate to say it but I never connected with her character at all. every part of her in the storyline felt forced, and her connection to zelda and the sages never felt authentic. also I hate the eng voice acting like why does she talk like that 😭

her talking about draconification felt sooo forced. she said "there are stories of eating the stone to turn into an immortal dragon" like that could be a solution, then when rauru asked if they could do that, she was like "however 🤓☝️ you'll lose your sense of self and it's forbidden. I thought this would give us an answer but maybe not 😞" like BITCH IF YOU KNEW IT WAS FORBIDDEN WHY WOULD YOU SAY ANYTHING 😭😭 the way she said it, it sounded like she was reading a book and learning this information as they went, which would make sense why she brought it up but turns out it won't work. BUT SHE KNEW THE FULL THING ALREADY WHY DID SHE SAY IT LIKE THAT???? god it annoyed me so much, it was such a bad foreshadowing plot point

and honestly her entire quest confused me, bc the whole first part has a very thunder/lightning theme so I thought her power would be related to that but it wasn't at all? like how come we didn't do anything spirit related meanwhile all the other sages had areas that related to their powers, ugh it felt so dumb. lightning is already heavily associated with riju + the gerudo, so it felt weird that they themed the whole first half of mineru's quest around it too.

I hate her stupid construct. IT'S SO LAME 😭 has anyone actually enjoyed fighting with it. has it actually benefitted anyone. like be so fr rn. I hated it so much that I built a freaking airbike and just flew to the final temple without fighting any of the stuff along the way bc I refuse to be forced to do things I don't like 🫶

and then at the end of the game when her spirit leaves her construct and she dies or whatever, I was just like 😐 they tried to make it emotional but literally mineru is my worst enemy and I was cheering and applauding atp. like I could care less. her character felt, idk how to describe it, like.. cringy and self-inserty? something about it felt very off to me and so I was just never able to like her. it felt like nintendo was trying to force me to like her and I was Not about to let that happen

hang on I have other things to complain about... oh yeah the STABLE TROTTER CONDUCTOR LIKE BRO 😭😭😭 why does he sound like mario, like I actually want to punch him in the face. the rest of the band is fine tho, I like their music 🤞

hm something I'm annoyed about is how much harder it is to find the dragons now. in botw their flight pattern was more predictable, but here like istg I can never find them when I need them 😭 it's just vv inconvenient

ok I'm back back. I think that about covered all my thoughts BUT one more thing. the map is so fucking cluttered. something that was done so well with botw was the openness of everything, it really fit the vibes and it immersed you in the expanse of the game. but the totk map was WAYY too busy 😭😭 not only with the purah pad map (which btw I still think sheikah slate is a better name) but just in general when you're walking around hyrule. there is Too Much going on and I don't like it

LAST THING although tbh this could be a whole separate rant. the way the purah pad is compatible with zonai technology makes no fucking sense???? like there is NO logical explanation for how it can mark waypoints at zonai shrines

in botw it made sense, because the shrines were sheikah-made and so was the slate, so ofc the sheikah would have built them to be compatible and programmable with one another. but the zonai shrines??? first of all they're just rocks on sand. no sort of technology the purah pad can latch onto. second, you activate the shrine with the ZONAI ARM, not the purah pad. literally no connection is made. this is such a small thing to fixate on but every time I think about it I am filled with inexplicable rage

I have a whole OTHER rant on why the sheikah tech disappearing makes literally No Sense but. this post is long enough as it is. if u want I can make a separate post but I think this is good enough for now 🤗

#tears of the kingdom #totk #the legend of zelda #tloz #loz #long post #me being So Normal about this game #hope this doesn't flop #also hope this doesn't get me cancelled #listen no one is doing it like botw. and if totk also won goty I feel like that would diminish botw's cultural impact

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tucanbakery · 3 months ago

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Discover the Best Pizza Marbella Can’t Stop Talking About

If you’ve been searching high and low for the best pizza Marbella has to offer, stop right there. You've just found the place that locals are obsessed with and tourists can’t stop posting about. Welcome to Tucan Bakery—where every bite is a bold statement, every slice a taste revelation.

This isn’t your average pizza. This is artisan mastery, forged in a fiery oven, topped with handpicked ingredients, and crafted with passion you can taste. In a town overflowing with food options, Tucan Bakery has risen to legendary status, and if you haven’t tried it yet—you’re missing out on the flavor event of the year.

Why Tucan Bakery Is the Talk of Marbella

Let’s get one thing straight: Tucan Bakery isn’t just a bakery. It’s a culinary destination. From the moment you walk in, the aroma hits you—a rich blend of bubbling cheese, fire-roasted dough, and herbs so fresh they might’ve just been picked from an Italian hillside.

At the heart of this buzz is their wood-fired pizza, hailed by countless fans as the best pizza Marbella has ever seen. It’s not just a claim—it’s a movement. With lines out the door and raving reviews flooding in, the city has spoken. Tucan Bakery is redefining pizza in Marbella.

What Makes It the Best Pizza Marbella Offers?

Tucan Bakery didn’t stumble upon greatness. They built it—one dough ball at a time.

1. Dough That Dances: Their signature sourdough crust is fermented for over 24 hours, giving it an irresistibly chewy texture with just the right crisp. It’s light, flavorful, and the perfect foundation for toppings that never miss.

2. Ingredients That Matter: No corners cut. No frozen shortcuts. Only fresh, locally sourced produce, premium cured meats, and cheeses imported straight from Italy. Every ingredient tells a story, and that story is delicious.

3. Fire and Flavor: All pizzas are baked in a traditional wood-fired oven at blistering temperatures. That flame-kissed edge? It’s not just for show—it’s the mark of authentic, old-world pizza artistry.

Not Just a Meal—An Experience

What sets Tucan Bakery apart isn't just the pizza. It’s the full-throttle experience. From the friendly, passionate staff to the buzzing atmosphere, dining here feels like being part of something bigger. It’s not just lunch. It’s not just dinner. It’s a moment you’ll remember.

Whether you’re grabbing a slice with friends or indulging in a whole pie solo (no judgment here), you’ll understand what makes this place tick. And when your taste buds explode with flavor, you’ll know—you’re not just eating pizza. You’re savoring the best pizza Marbella has to offer.

Limited-Time Specials: Blink and You'll Miss Them

If you needed another reason to stop by, how about this: Tucan Bakery constantly rotates in seasonal, limited-time pizzas that are so good, they practically cause stampedes.

Think truffle mushroom with caramelized onions. Burrata and sun-dried tomato. Spicy nduja with honey drizzle. These masterpieces vanish fast—and you don’t want to be the one hearing about them after they’re gone.

Pro tip: follow their socials and sign up for notifications. When a new flavor drops, you’ll want to be first in line.

Perfect for Every Occasion

Whether you're planning a casual hangout, a romantic dinner, or a catered event, Tucan Bakery delivers—literally and figuratively. Their delivery service brings the magic straight to your door, fresh and blazing hot. Or dine in and watch the magic happen in real-time, with pizzas flying from oven to plate in mere minutes.

Hosting a party? Tucan Bakery offers custom pizza packages that take your gathering to the next level. Say goodbye to bland buffet trays—your guests deserve better, and so do you.

Don’t Just Take Our Word For It

Thousands of locals and food lovers agree—Tucan Bakery is the pizza powerhouse of Marbella. Rave reviews call it “unreal,” “life-changing,” and “better than Naples.” Food bloggers can’t stop writing about it. Influencers are snapping photos before the cheese even melts.

Once you taste it, you’ll get it. The hype is real. The flavor is unforgettable.

Ready to Taste the Legend?

Here’s the bottom line: you deserve pizza that stuns your senses, satisfies your soul, and makes every other slice feel like a warm-up act. That’s what Tucan Bakery delivers.

So what are you waiting for? Drop what you’re doing and get yourself to Tucan Bakery—before the next crowd shows up and the ovens go into overdrive. Marbella’s best-kept secret is out, and the lines are only getting longer.

If you want the best pizza Marbella has to offer, there’s only one name you need to know. Tucan Bakery. Come hungry. Leave transformed.

For More Details You Can Visit Us:

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whiteraven87 · 27 days ago

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The Flame That Never Fades - chapter 5 - Ruthless (5/16)

pairing: Toto Wolff x Victoria Lorenz (Original Character)

word count: 37k

read on: AO3 - Wattpad - Tumblr

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my other finished fanfiction: The Unstoppable Series - Masterlist [Toto WolffxOC]

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chapters until now:

Prologue 1: Middle of the Night 2: Frozen 3: Shameless 4: Lilith 5: Ruthless

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Chapter 5: Ruthless

Cause I could breathe you in and never breathe you out Hold you 'til I'm something you can't live without I'll whisper in the wind, leave a chill on your skin Forgetting me is useless My love's so ruthless My love's so ruthless Ruthless - Allegra Jordyn

Austin Grand Prix, June

The race weekend in Austin always drew attention — the crowds, the music, the evening events, the sponsors with bulging wallets and golden smiles. Victoria knew the ritual. She'd learned how to play the game — to be tough, sharp, enigmatic. But now, she was playing a different game entirely.

One with a single name: Toto Wolff.

There had been too many looks. One laugh too loud. One touch held too long.

Elliot King was one of the team's wealthy sponsors — the kind of man she'd once dismissed with irritation. Now, she let him stand close. Too close.

"You look like a woman to be feared tonight," Elliot murmured, leaning in toward her at the bar.

"Maybe I am," she smiled, sipping her whiskey on the rocks, wearing a dangerously short black dress she had chosen with care. "But some people like danger."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Toto enter the room. He was speaking with a Daimler board member — composed, focused, elegant. But his gaze — oh, his gaze found her instantly in the crowd. Froze on her exposed back and legs, on the way Elliot brushed her hand, and how she didn't pull away.

Victoria knew he was watching.

She felt that look on her neck like a touch without hands, like a blade that didn't cut but reminded you who you belonged to. Elliot King was talking about a private jet and a weekend in Portofino, and she nodded with a smile — just to feel Toto's stare pierce her from across the room.

She wore a tight black dress with a deep backless cut and a high slit up her thigh. She'd only worn it once — until now. Tonight, she wore it with purpose. Every move, every smile was a blade thrown in his direction.

Toto was tense. She didn't need to look to know. He could be talking business with board members, pretending to stay in control — but one glance into his eyes and she saw the same hunger that scorched her through sleepless nights.

And then, she crossed the line.

She let Elliot touch her hand for just a little longer. Meaningless to her — but in Toto's eyes, fire ignited.

Not even two minutes later, he was walking straight toward her. No smile. No mask.

"With me. Now." His voice was darkness itself — deep, sharp, unyielding.

She didn't ask where. Didn't pretend to be surprised.

He led her to the back, a dark, empty corridor where only their breaths could be heard. The door slammed shut. Then came the question:

"What the hell was that?" Toto's voice was quiet, but taut like a wire.

Victoria leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over her chest.

"Networking."

"You don't look like the kind of woman who flirts for PR."

"Maybe I'm just learning to live without your touch."

Silence. Dense. Unbearable.

Toto stepped closer. Then again. No longer the boss. No longer the mentor. Just a man who couldn't stand not having control over her.

"If you're trying to punish me, you're doing an excellent job," he said through clenched teeth. "But don't you dare turn yourself into a toy for the likes of King."

Victoria scoffed.

"A toy? Interesting word, considering you fuck me in your office and then act like nothing ever happened."

His eyes narrowed. Rage and desire fused into one. He grabbed her wrist — not hard, but firm.

"You're not a toy," he said low. "You're fire. But that fire is starting to burn me alive."

"Then burn, Toto," she whispered into his ear, grinding her hip against his crotch. "Because I already have."

It was a moment. A split second.

He grabbed her shoulder and slammed her back against the wall. His mouth crashed onto hers — possessive, brutal, merciless. He kissed her like a man who hated himself for not being able to stop. And she gave herself to him — with her mouth, her moan, her body that only ever softened in his hands.

"You want to provoke me?" he hissed, gripping her throat, making her breath shiver. "Then face the consequences."

He threw her onto the nearest counter — rough, confident. Her dress rode up immediately. In one motion, he tore off her panties. They dropped to the floor like a trophy.

"You want to play grown-up?" his voice was husky, dangerously calm. "Then you'll feel what it means to belong to me."

He thrust his fingers inside her with a force that made her cry out and double over — not from pain, but from ecstasy. Her body was ready. Hot. Wet. Her tongue tangled in knots.

"Say who's doing this to you," he growled through his teeth, his hand moving rhythmically inside her, the other pressed to her hip.

"You... Toto... only you," she whispered, her voice tearing from her throat.

"Louder."

"Only you."

He growled with satisfaction, flipped her around roughly and leaned over her back. Unzipped his pants. His hands gripped her hips, then he slammed into her, hard, without warning, in one motion that pulled a deep, shameless moan from her throat.

"Only I get to have you like this. Do you understand?"

He thrust into her fast, rhythmically — each movement a punishment and a reward. Her hands slipped across the counter, nails leaving trails. She felt him everywhere — inside her, inside her soul.

When his mouth found her ear again, he whispered:

"You won't let anyone else. No one. You belong to me."

"Yes... to you," she sobbed with pleasure. "To you..."

His hand slipped under her throat, pulling her upward until she felt his chest against her back, his breath, his pounding heart. He moved faster, deeper. Until her knees buckled and her cry of ecstasy echoed off the walls.

He stilled inside her at the end, panting heavily.

Everything froze.

Hands dropped. Bodies softened. Only the wild, shared heartbeat remained.

Afterward, she leaned against his shoulder, still trembling. Toto only said:

"What are you doing to me?"

She looked him in the eyes. No longer with devotion — but with strength.

"I'm teaching you what it's like when you're not the one in control."

But in this game, there were no winners.

Because they both knew — the longer it went on... the harder it would be to stop.

Several days later, Canadian Grand Prix

Toto's office was wrapped in silence. Only the door still trembled from the force with which Victoria had stormed in, slamming it shut so hard it echoed down the hallway. She threw her gloves onto the desk like unwanted baggage. Her eyes blazed. Sweaty, disheveled, still half in her race suit — she looked like fury incarnate.

"How could you?" she spat. "How the fuck could you do this to me?"

Toto looked at her from behind the desk. Calm — or at least pretending to be. His hand trembled as he set his glasses down.

"It wasn't sabotage, Victoria. It was a strategic decision in which—"

"A strategic decision?!" she cut him off furiously, stepping closer. "You took the podium from me, Toto. You took it because no one had the balls to trust my judgment. And I was right. Again."

He said nothing. He knew. She was right.

Her chest heaved with ragged breaths.

"And you? You didn't say a word." Her voice cracked. "You stood there and watched them tear me apart."

Toto stood. Tall, still, but coiled like a spring. He stepped toward her, inch by inch, until their bodies nearly touched.

"Careful, Victoria," he growled low. "I'm not your enemy."

"Aren't you?" she whispered. "Then why does it feel like you are?"

And then she struck him — not with her hand, but with her mouth. A kiss, full of anger, pain, need. And he answered without hesitation. Their lips crashed together — violent, hungry, raw.

In an instant, everything exploded.

Toto pushed her onto the desk. Her suit was unzipped in one swift motion. She gasped as cold wood met bare skin. His hands were merciless — strong, sure, tearing at fabric like every inch of her was a declaration: you're mine, right here, right now, all of you.

"Say it," he snarled in her ear, his fingers sliding into her without warning.

"I hate you," she hissed, but her hips trembled, her body begging for more.

"You're lying."

He thrust into her hard, brutally, pulling a moan from her that echoed off the office walls. Her nails scraped the desk surface, her head thrown back, his hands holding her like a prize.

"Only you..." she whispered, voice shaking. "Only you can destroy me like this."

"I know," he growled, voice dark, urgent. "And only I will put you back together."

His movements were fast, ruthless. Each thrust was punishment, every gasp a plea. They crossed the threshold where sex was just sex — this was a scream of the soul, a war, an admission of defeat.

When she came, she moaned his name like a prayer.

And instead of pulling away, instead of leaving, he stayed. Inside her. In silence.

He held her in his arms, pressed to his chest. One hand stroked her back, the other brushed her neck. And then, to her surprise, for the first time — there was no coldness. No escape.

Toto's hand moved along her back slowly, almost hypnotically. Victoria felt his warm breath on her skin, his forehead resting against hers, his body still tangled with hers, spent and softened by sensual exhaustion.

Just moments ago, it had been war. Rage. The peak of frustration.

Now there was only this touch — gentle, tender, as if he feared that if he stopped, everything would fall apart.

"My wild, beautiful girl..." he whispered softly in Polish, brushing his lips over her neck. "I won't let them destroy you."

Victoria froze.

Toto... never spoke like this afterward. Never held her so tenderly. Never stayed.

She should've said something. A joke, sarcasm, retreat — anything to regain control. But she couldn't. Not after hearing that break in his voice. That... truth.

"Don't say that if you don't mean it," she murmured, barely audible.

Toto raised his head and looked down at her. His hand cupped her face, his finger tracing gently along her cheek, down to the corner of her lips.

"And what if I do?"

That single sentence shattered every wall she had built.

She stared at him with wide eyes. This wasn't his usual tone. There was no coldness, no command. He was... human. A man. With a heart in his eyes. With tenderness she had always longed for but never expected.

"Toto..." she whispered.

"Shh." He placed a finger over her lips. "Don't ruin this moment. Not yet."

He gently slid out of her, but didn't pull away. He helped her zip up her suit, buttoned his own trousers, then gathered her in his arms again and sat down on the sofa in the corner of the office, holding her on his lap like something precious.

She curled into him. Quiet. Wordless. She felt his fingers glide over her neck, his lips pressing to her temple every so often.

"Why are you different now?" she asked at last, voice barely a whisper.

He hesitated. His hands trembled.

"Because now I know I can't pretend it means nothing to me anymore."

Victoria closed her eyes. Her body trembled — not from cold, but from relief. From fear. From emotion. She had waited so long to hear something like this... and now, as it came, she felt naked in an entirely new way.

She didn't reply.

She held him tighter. Let him wrap her up even more. Let him breathe into her hair. Let him speak softly in Polish — those words she understood not with her mind, but with her heart.

"You are my storm. My fire. My downfall..." his whisper was like a spell.

She fell asleep in his arms.

And Toto held her for a long time. As if he already knew that come morning, he'd have to let her go again. That the world outside would once more demand masks, roles, lies.

But not tonight — not for a few hours more.

Tonight, she was his.

Not as a trophy. Not as a driver. Not as a sinful secret.

Just Victoria and Toto.

-----------

Next -> chapter 6: The Machine

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years ago

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Closed Signal - Tom Hardy smut

The one where Tom fears he might be getting too old for you

Warnings: smut, implied age gap, implied size kink, inappropriate drunk friend, insecure!Tom, dirty talk, daddy kink, exhibitionism kink, mention of overstimulation, name-calling, jealousy, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: this idea came from a request and I took advantage of the plot bunny to make it as some sort of follow-up to this story. Can totally be read by itself though - as most of my stuff 🤔

The party was going in full swing by the time Tom arrived. He’d been working like crazy lately, doing pre-production work for his next movie, which was one he was quite excited about.

It was completely different from anything he’d ever done before, and while that in itself presented a risk, my boyfriend was precisely the type to thrive in that anxiety. He just put a lot of himself in the process, and it’d been getting more and more difficult to see him outside of breakfast or bed time, so I was really excited when he agreed to meet me here.

“There you are, baby.” I smiled widely as his familiar mob of hair - now slightly grown for the role - appeared in the distance, briefly distracted from the conversation I’d been entertaining with my friend Chris. “I missed you.”

I stood up on my tiptoes to kiss him when he was close enough, rubbing my cheek against his bearded one. He was also letting it grow for the role, and I didn’t tell him, but the spots of white hair were disturbingly arousing to me, as if it reminded me of the age gap in our relationship, the almost taboo nature of it.

“Hey man, how have you been?” Chris nodded towards Tom, slapping his bicep as he approached to say hello. My boyfriend pointed at the beer in our hands, confirming, “Are you drinking beer?” to which I sheepishly waved the empty bottle I was holding.

“I finished mine, I was about to go and get another.” But Tom, ever the gentleman, was already shaking his head.

“Stay here, I’ll grab us both new ones.” My eyes trailed after him as he left, taking in the expanse of his back, how it signaled how much larger than my body his was. It still brought a shiver down my spine, a year after we’d started dating.

It was silent for a while as I couldn’t remember what it was that I’d been chatting with Chris until he was the one who broke the silence. “I’ll never understand how the hell Tom managed to get with you.”

The sentence was so out of place it took me a while to figure out how the hell to respond to it, and in that silence, drunk and inappropriate Chris prospered.

“Is it a kinky thing?” I was once again taken by surprise, mouth hanging open as I stared at my friend without believing what was coming out of his. “Do you get off on being his little girl or something?”

My face felt warm as he finally shut his mouth, but I didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or pure, unadulterated anger. “Why the fuck do you think that it’s appropriate to talk to me like that, Chris?”

My tone and words shocked him, the widened eyes said as much. “Oh, sorry.” He gulped and shifted from one foot to another, and still he couldn’t help but insist, “I just… Isn’t he a bit too old for you?”

I narrowed my eyes at him with my blood pumping inside my veins, particularly because I could see Tom had frozen in his tracks right behind the man that had angered me, clearly having heard what was said and also clearly taken back by it.

“Chris, he’s not even five years older than you.” The way is eyebrows shot up wasn’t comforting to me in the slightest.

“Oh, shit! Really? The white beard threw me off completely.”

The night was pretty much over for the both of us after this. I knew Tom was stuck on Chris’s words and I also knew I wouldn’t be able to talk him out of it. I’d have to wait until he decided to speak his mind to me.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long. As we prepared for bed that evening, he approached me with cautious steps as I braced myself for what was coming, but I was pleasantly surprised by the tone of jest he assumed to complain, “My bones ache.”

I stared at his childish pout for a long time, not quite believing this is how he was going to go on about this until finally laughter escaped my chest. “And still, you fuck me just right,” I teased him, making him scoff as he averted his gaze, but I knew I’d played this to his ego.

A small silence followed my response, a pause in which I watched him gather his thoughts before he met my eyes to question, “Don’t you think I’m too old for you?” Opening up a slow smile, I opened my arms to welcome him into my embrace as I retorted, “I obviously don’t.”

Still, he sighed, rubbing his full beard against my neck as he listened to my heartbeat, so I proceeded, “And I also think our age gap is sexy.” That got his attention. He licked his lips as he sat up slightly, hovering over my lying body as he took in the shirt of his I was wearing to bed - and nothing else.

“Oh, is that so?”

Biting my lip to stop my smirk from growing, I nodded before voicing, “Yes… daddy.”

The way his eyes darkened was undeniable and it fed this hunger inside of me that I wasn’t expecting to feel. Suddenly, I was up on my knees, pushing him back against the bed as I took my place over his lap.

“Would you like to fuck me in front of Chris, baby?” His hands on my naked hips tightened to the point of bruising. I relished in it. “Make him see how well you give it to me?”

The fact that he wasn’t wearing any underwear under his sweatpants definitely helped me when I slid them down just enough to grab a hold of his dick. “Make him watch as you fucked me senseless, make me cry for you to stop while you kept fucking me until I pass out?”

“He could never get me this wet.” He felt what I meant the second I started to slowly sit down on his dick, biting my lower lip to stop myself from screaming at the pleasurable stretch. “All you have to do is stare at me and I’m ready for your cock, daddy.”

He pulled me by the back of my neck to meet his lips, panting against mine in something that was less of a kiss and more of a different way to breathe me in. “You’re too fucking hot.” It sounded almost like a complaint. It made me laugh.

“C’mon, daddy,” I whined in my best bratty voice, the one that called out to Tom like a flame did to a moth. “Take it out on me. Use me.” This time he did kiss me - and it was wild and forceful, like the way he started thrusting up against me just before he threw me on the bed to take his place on top of my body.

“You’re my perfect little slut, huh?” He nuzzled the crook of my neck, breathing me in as I wiped away the taste of him from my lips. I was obsessed with it, just like I was obsessed with every part of him. “So you don’t think about him when I’m fucking you?”

The question was paired with a forceful thrust that ended with the head of his cock rubbing precisely against my sweet spot, making me mewl underneath him. “Answer me, darling.”

His hand covered my throat, easily catching my attention. I answered honestly. “I don’t think about him at all, daddy.” He seemed to like it, judging by the way he immediately started fucking me against the bed, forcing me to hold onto his shoulders as I screamed in pleasure.

“Good answer, sweetheart,” he chuckled, mouth exploring every inch of skin he could reach. “You take me so well, baby,” he complimented, knowing how it always got to me. “I bet Chris gets off thinking about doing this to you, fucking you like I’m doing right now. But he never will, huh?”

I was quick to shake my head, incapable of voicing a simple ‘no’ with how drunk on his cock I felt. “That’s my girl.” The thought of being his had been such a distant dream for so long that just those words were enough to set me off, leading me to an orgasm that milked his too.

As he emptied himself inside of me, he softly fell over my body, smashing me against the mattress. “Tommy…” I whined, trying to push him away, much to his amusement. “’Can’t breathe.”

He was still laughing when he rolled onto his back, pulling me with him so I’d lay my head on his chest. It was quiet and peaceful for a while, my breathing slowly getting deeper and deeper as I listened to his heartbeat right by my ear until…

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby.” His voice was quiet as he brushed my hair away from my face, trying to get a clear view of my expression before he continued, “I still have enough stamina to fuck you through the night.”

All I could do was snort, hiding my face against his skin before I teased him, “Good, because I desperately want your cock in my mouth.”

#my fics #tom hardy smut #tom hardy #smut #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy reader #tom hardy reader insert #tom hardy reader inserts #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy one-shot #tom hardy one-shots #tom hardy writing

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literaila · 5 years ago

Text

flick, flick, burn

spencer reid x reader

request: Can i request a fic where the reader and spencer are dating and the reader believes that spencer if in love with jj so she distances herself from him??? and garcia finds out and reassures her?? sorry if this doesn’t make sense but thank u if you do decide to write it!😊

warnings: none.. theres lots of mentions of fire.. and jealousy...

a/n: lovely lovely request, i’m sorry if i butchered it.

It started with text messages.

The stupid text messages.

Spencer and Y/N were sitting on the couch, practically on each other's lap, watching some documentary about ancient Greece when Spencer got a text.

Which was unusual.

Every one of Spencer's friends knew that he hated texting, and hated using his phone in general. Which is why his pocket was constantly buzzing out of soft ringtone, instead of insistent messages.

But he had gotten a text.

Y/N didn't think of it until later.

Later when he started taking long phone calls late at night.

When he started taking phone calls when he thought she was asleep. When Y/N laid in bed and wondered, wondered where he went, wondered when he was coming back, wondered why he had left.

He never took phone calls that late.

She pretended it wasn't happening, after all, he always came back to bed, always came back and always wrapped his arms around her waist, and she always pretended to be asleep, she always listened to him breathe into her neck until he was asleep again.

He didn't know she was awake.

Phone calls didn't mean something was wrong.

Everything else was the same, Spencer still woke Y/N up with soft kisses in the morning, he still called her ‘love’ and reminded her to be safe at work. He still got flustered at Morgan calling them “lovebirds” and he still waited until everyone looked away to kiss her. He still brought her coffee at her desk, still read to her at night before they slept. Everything else was exactly the same.

And if Spencer wasn't going to say anything about the phone calls, neither was Y/N.

It wasn't until later, later when he seemed more distracted, later when he had to skip out on dinner, “I just have to- have to go get this book. I’ll be back later.” he had said, it wasn't until later when he didn't get back for several hours, it wasn't until then Y/N really started paying attention.

Something was going on.

It didn't take a profiler to see that.

It wasn't that he had to tell her everything, no she didn't expect that from him, but she also didn't expect him to start leaving the house almost every time they were home, and she didn't expect him to get back when she had already gone to bed.

So she started paying more attention.

And the texts, and phone calls, and the leaving at strange times of night, they all continued.

Y/N thought about asking, thought about telling Spencer what she had noticed, but she didn't want him to think she didn't trust him. She didn't want him to feel like he wasn't allowed to have his own things.

And then she noticed something else.

Near the end of the workday she had been walking to Hotch's office to turn in her case reports, she was exhausted and on her 6th cup of coffee, she walked by JJ’s office when she noticed something in the window.

JJ and Spencer.

Talking.

That wasn't weird, it wasn't unusual. Since Y/N’s first day of work, she had known about the strong friendship the two of them shared.

It wasn't them being together that she noticed.

It was the way Spencer was looking at her.

The way he was standing in front of her, smiling, a far off look in his face.

It was the way JJ was smiling back.

It was the look, a look Y/N had seen so many times, a look Spencer only used when he was looking at her, it was the look that she’d fallen in love with.

It was the look he was giving JJ.

She felt her heart racing as she thought of the prospect that Spencer was looking at JJ the way he looked at Y/N. She felt gasoline fill her stomach, and then her lungs, and she felt it when the gas was ignited in her brain.

She was on fire.

She stared and felt her mind turning. She remembered something Spencer had told her, years ago, when they were still just friends. She remembered the dazed look on his face and the smile in his eyes. She remembered the words that he said, the words that she repeated in her head even then

I think I’m in love with her.

She was burning.

She remembered the way he used to stare at her, used to be amazed at everything she did. She remembered him trying to act more mature, less awkward, around her.

Her chest was burning.

She remembered how innocent and lovestruck he had been.

Her stomach was burning.

She remembered watching as he went to invite her to the football game.

Her mind was burning.

She remembered how crushed he’d been when the date hadn’t gone as planned.

She was burning hot, and stuck in place, and frozen staring at them. She was being melted from the inside out. She watched and she watched and eventually, when she felt like it was almost over, when she could almost feel her body turn to ash, it was then that she walked away.

It was then that she walked into the bathroom and gasped, and cursed at herself for thinking the way she was thinking. She shouldn't have been thinking that Spencer would never do that. She trusted Spencer and she shouldn't have been thinking that.

How could she ever think that?

Even though she reassured herself, told herself, over and over, Spencer would never do that, even though she repeated that in her head, and out loud in front of the mirror, even though she said it over and over again, it didn't go away.

The flame in her body had died down, it stopped scaring her from the inside, but it wasn't gone. It was only a sliver of a flame, barely big enough to be noticeable, but it wasn't gone. No, it didn't leave.

In fact, the fire, the blaze in her body, it had only just begun.

***

“But, Pen! I saw it.”

“Sweetheart, you’re making stuff up.”

Y/N walked -paced- around Penelope’s office. She was holding a ball in her hands, which she threw in the air over and over again as she thought about JJ and Spencer.

It had been almost two weeks since she first saw them in the office, two weeks since she had started obsessing over JJ and Spencer.

She noticed everything now.

She noticed Spencer smile at JJ whenever he looked at her, she noticed how JJ smiled back, she noticed how Spencer always seemed to focus all his attention on JJ when she was around, she noticed the way they teased and laughed together. She noticed how Spencer was always waiting after something he said for feedback from JJ, and how JJ always gave him it. She noticed how empty her house was when Spencer was gone and thought how lonely she felt when she had no idea where he’d gone. She noticed the constant text messages and hour-long phone calls.

She noticed how the flame inside of her only got bigger anytime any of those things happened.

Y/N couldn't keep it to herself, couldn't keep noticing all these things, and keeping them ingrained in her head.

She noticed how distant she had become from Spencer, choosing to watch him instead of being with him, and she noticed the fear of living in her body every time he was around. She didn't want to talk to him about it, didn't want him to get the wrong idea- didn't want to hear the truth.

So she talked to Garcia instead.

“No. No.” Y/N walked over to Penelope and sat down in the spare chair next to her. “He looked at her like he looked at me.”

“Did he really, or are you making it up?” Penelope said, dubious, as she typed something.

Y/N could feel herself getting more and more annoyed. She knew what she saw.

“Penelope. I know that look. It's the look he gives me.”

It was then that Garica looked at Y/N, really looked at her. What she saw was a panicked girl, who looked like she hadn't been getting enough sleep. She saw a panicked girl who looked scared.

Garcia turned to face her, deciding that what Y/N needed right then, more than anything, was someone to listen.

“Okay cupcake, tell me what happened.”

And Y/N explained, she explained what she saw in the office, she explained the words Spencer had explained so long ago, she explained the texts and the phone calls, and the late night's Spencer was gone. She explained and she kept going, kept thinking, overthinking. The flame inside her was flickering higher and higher.

Garcia listened to everything, and after Y/N was finished she looked at her and sighed. “Are you sure we’re thinking about the same person?”

“Penelope.”

“What? The genius I know loves you, with his entire heart.” she paused, “besides, Spencer would never do that.”

Y/N quietly mumbled, “yeah I know…”

“Okay, then what's still bothering you sugar?”

“I just.. I feel like something is going on. I can't explain it..” Y/N said desperately, the heat in her chest branding her. “And I don't want to talk to him about it, actually I’m not even sure when I could get a chance!” she said and threw her hands up “It's not like he's been home recently…”

“Pumpkin I’m sure there's a reasonable explanation…”

“Yes, I know. I know that! But I just, we haven't even had the time to talk about anything these past couple of weeks and he’d rather go out and do something than spend time with me…”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Burn baby, burn to the ground.

***

Another week passed. Another week of Y/N avoiding talking to her boyfriend, the man she was infuriatingly in love with. Another week of watching from the sidelines as JJ got more smiles than Y/N got glances. Another week of spending hours in bed waiting for him to come back, and then pretending to be asleep.

It was another dreadful week.

It was a bit different this week though, this week Y/N had been actively trying to avoid Spencer. It wasn't because she didn't want to see him, she wanted to see him so much it killed her, it was because she was tired of feeling alone with him. She was tired of cuddling with him at night but barely talking to him the next morning. She was tired of watching him talk with JJ, tired of watching the two of them leave the room together, not knowing what either of them were doing. She was tired of him not being home, tired of it all.

So she avoided it.

And that included avoiding Spencer.

She didn't wait for him to bring her coffee, set her alarm to wake up to- earlier than him -sat on the opposite side of the plane, reading her file instead of going over it with him.

She got the feeling that Spencer noticed, based on the reassuring smiles she got more often than not from him, which she assumed were messages asking if she was okay, messages promising he was there for her.

She ignored them.

She just looked away.

Y/N knew it was childish, avoiding him instead of talking out their issues, instead of talking to him about what was bothering her. Most of the time she felt ridiculous doing it, but she couldn't take any more of the exhaustion that came with being present all the time.

It was the night after a short case, one that had worked out in favor of all of them, when Spencer asked her if she wanted to go to dinner.

“Um, I don't know if I can,” she replied, not looking at him, “I think me and Pen are doing something tonight…”

She didn't see the way Spencer frowned, his almost nervous, almost hopeful stance deflating.

“Oh. I um-” he cleared his throat “its.. kind of important.” his face was tense and his eyes were staring right at her, hoping she would look at him and see how important it really was.

When she didn't answer, instead choosing to continue unpacking her bag, he tried again.

“Y/N… I really need to talk to you,” he said teasingly.

“Can't see why you would need to talk to me now.” Y/N mumbled under her breath, the past couple of weeks flying through her head. Why did he need her now? What about JJ?

“What?” Spencer said, stepping closer to her.

“Nothing Spence..” she sighed. She was going to have to run out of the house and barge into Garcias without any warning. That's what I get for lying, she thought. “I really have to go though.” She said walking past Spencer, who now had a frown on his face.

He had noticed the distance between them in the past couple of weeks, noticed how little he had really seen her, but he figured it was only because he started it, he figured Y/N was just trying to leave him alone.

He didn't think she didn't want to spend time with him.

Just as Y/N was about to walk out the door and go crying to her friend, she heard her boyfriend speak from behind her.

“Are you trying to avoid me?”

Y/N jumped, surprised he had followed her to the door. It took a couple of moments before she processed the question.

Was she actively avoiding him? Yes. Did he need to know that? Probably not.

“No,” she said quietly, cursing herself for not being more convincing.

“Y/N, we haven't spent any proper time together in…” he paused for only a second, just a second, “23 days. I miss you, love.”

She stayed silent. She missed him too.

Flick, flick.

Fire.

“Y/N?”

Burn. Fire. Burning her. From. The inside out. Talk to him. Say something.

Y/N shakily let out a breath. If she could just breathe, maybe it would be enough for the fire to burn out, maybe it would just be enough for the flame inside of her to extinguish.

Flick, flick, higher.

Her head was running, running away from Spencer away from it all. But her body was there, she was there, and she was running closer.

“Y/N? Is there something going on?”

Maybe Spencer had been talking this entire time, maybe she just hadn't noticed it, maybe she had missed something. She didn't know, she only caught a couple of words, a couple of words between the insistent voice in her head, between all the worried thoughts that came to her, burning the fire up her throat.

Why haven't you been home? Where have you been? Why are you getting so many text messages, who is texting you? I’m going crazy. Is there something happening with JJ, is there some rational answer to all my questions. Why am I still here? Why am I burning. Why do you look at JJ like that what is going on-

Flick, flick, flame.

“Is there something going on with JJ?” she said finally. Quickly. Quietly.

She didn't even know if Spencer heard her.

“What?”

He did.

“I saw you.” burn. “A couple of weeks ago.” burn. “In her office, you were,” burn “you were standing with her and- and it…” a flash. “And you were... You were just.” just burn. “You were looking…” swallow. breathe. Burn.

She paused. She paused because she didn't know what to say, didn't understand why it hurt her so much to talk to him, didn't understand why she couldn't just say the words, why it was so difficult for her to tell him, she didn't understand why she was talking at all.

She didn't understand why she was burning alive.

She heard Spencer say something behind her. Something that sounded like encouragement to go on. She didn't realize that he was standing in front of her, she didn't look up to see him, he was standing in front of her, staring at her, wondering what was wrong.

“You were looking at her,” flick “looking at her.” higher “like you look.” and “like you look at me.” higher.

The fire had reached her brain, had scarred her entire body, had devoured her whole, had left her with no mercy.

Burn, baby, burn.

And Spencer was thinking, he knew what his girlfriend was saying, he knew her inside and out. He was trying, trying to remember, trying to recall a time where he had ever looked at JJ, a time where he had looked at anyone, like he had looked at Y/N, trying to remember what had happened in her office a couple of weeks ago.

“Do you love her?” Y/N said finally.

And to her, it was as if she couldn't think anymore, she didn't have the room to think with the fire inside her body, her mental block was gone, and all she could say were the words that scared her, the words she wished were not true.

She didn't look at Spencer to see him shocked. She didn't look to see the way his eyes widened.

She didn't look to see him remembering exactly what had happened. He smiled at the memory, at the memory at him and JJ in her office, talking.

Spencer realized where all of this had gone wrong. But his words didn't come quick enough and Y/N continued.

“You’ve been gone. You’ve been gone a lot, and you’ve been taking phone calls late at night” the fire was getting hotter and hotter “and I’ve been pretending to sleep, and you haven't been smiling at me and- and I-” her entire body was begging her to stop but she continued, continued helping the flames rise “I’ve been thinking you would never do that- because you- you wouldn't but I can't think of anything else and.”

Burn.

Spencer watched his girlfriend crumble before him. He watched her, and he saw all the things he’d been missing, he saw her eyes break and her body fall, and he wondered when he had missed how alone he’d left her.

“I don't know what to do Spence,” she said finally.

And the flame was in her heart, it was in her heart turning her to ash. She wondered, if she was gone, if her body was finally too tired, too strained to go on, she wondered if she was a pile of char on their carpet, she wondered if the fire had stopped.

She looked up at her boyfriend.

She didn't know what was going on.

Spencer was talking to her, he was trying to explain, trying to tell her, but when he looked in her eyes he could tell that she wasn't listening. He could tell he had to do something else.

They were already running late.

He wondered how to fix this.

“Y/N..” he said.

And she could hear him. She could always hear him. Even over the fire in her ears.

“Y/N love, I need to take you somewhere okay? I need to take you somewhere, and I’ll explain everything I promise. I just need you to come with me okay?”

Y/N nodded.

Maybe the fire would go away soon.

***

It was silent in the car.

Y/N was silent. She was sitting in the passenger seat, trying to breathe, trying to collect herself. She didn't want to be a pile of ash sitting in her seat, she wanted to be there, she wanted to listen, she wanted to listen, she wanted to understand. She was trying her best to breathe.

She wondered where they were going. She didn't recognize anything around her.

Spencer was silent. He was collecting his thoughts, collecting his nerves, he knew right now he should be taking care of his girlfriend, his girlfriend who looked so broken standing in their doorway only a half an hour ago, but he needed to think. He needed to think about what he would tell her how he would explain.

Both of them stayed quiet.

It was 15 minutes later when Spencer made a right turn, into an empty parking lot. They were 45 minutes away from their house, 45 minutes away from the fire, 45 minutes closer to the truth.

Y/N still had no idea what was going on.

Spencer parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt.

Y/N built up the courage to look at him, she still didn't say a word.

“Come on, we’re almost there,” Spencer said, giving her a hesitant smile. She didn't smile back.

Spencer walked away from the car, and Y/N followed him. She followed him on a light path made in the ground, followed him past a small pond, followed him up a hill, up up the hill where Spencer stopped, where he waited for her to catch up, looking ahead of him.

Y/N made it up and looked with him.

There was a pavilion 10 feet away from them, it sat on top of the hill, lit up with fairy lights, Y/N walked closer. She saw flowers that laid the ground, candles that she assumed were meant for when it got dark.

She saw a plan in front of her.

She still had no idea what was going on.

“What's-” she swallowed her voice almost numb with disbelief “what's this?” she asked.

Spencer smiled, only a little, and grabbed her hand leading her inside the pavilion.

“This,” he said “is what was so important.”

Y/N looked around again. “I-I still don't understand.”

She was trying to breathe. Trying to put out the flame still alive inside of her. She was trying to understand why they were here.

“Let's sit down. I can explain everything.”

“Explain,” she said softly, almost as if a question, as he helped her sit down.

It was silent for a few moments, Y/N could feel her heart racing, burning, as she waited for him to speak.

“I don't- I don't know when I got so caught up..I’m not- I-” Spencer sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had no idea how to explain it all to her, no idea how to make her feel better.

Y/N sat there patiently with her hands in her lap, she watched Spencer's expression change, she felt her own body buzzing, waiting for an answer.

Flick.

“I needed JJ’s help. I was panicking freaking out, and I needed her help.”

Flicker.

“Why?” Y/N asked softly.

“I couldn't talk to you- you’ll understand more soon but, I have to explain something. I have to make you understand. Alright?” Spencer stopped, and he looked at her, his brown eyes were shining, staring into Y/N’s, and she nodded.

“I may have loved JJ at one point,”

Burn, burn bright.

“I may have loved her, but never, not once in my entire life, have I loved someone as much as I love you.”

I love you, burn.

“And I’ve never looked at anyone the way I look at you. Okay?”

Y/N stayed silent. Fire, deep within her body, flared, bright, hot.

“That day-” Spencer said quickly, grabbing Y/N’s hands from her lap and holding them in his, “That day in the office, I wasn't thinking about JJ, I was thinking about you. She had asked me, a question, about you, and I was thinking about you. And how much I love you. I wasn't thinking about her. I haven't thought about her like that in years.”

Y/N breathed in. She breathed out.

“Then what's been going on?” She asked, she believed him, but she still didn't understand, still couldn't grasp why any of this was happening in the first place.

“I needed JJ’s help. It's proven by research that females are much better at planning and strategy. Males tend to jump into things and be far less organized and thorough and-”

“Spencer.” Y/N cut in, even confused, she knew when Spencer was rambling off-topic.

“Right, sorry. Anyway, I needed her help. About a month ago I panicked and asked for her help, and then she was texting me, and the calling was just so you didn't hear and- the day in the office, it was... We were doing more planning.”

“Planning for what Spencer? I still don't understand.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up at the question. He smiled, and he stared at her for a moment. He looked away and laughed quietly, then looked back at Y/N who had a frown on her face.

Spencer gently moved his hand to grab her forearm and he helped her stand up.

Y/N didn't understand what was happening, all she knew was that no matter how much she breathed, the boiling fire in her chest wouldn't leave, wouldn't leave.

“Y/N… do you remember the first time I told you I loved you?” Spencer said softly.

Y/N nodded remembering very clearly, remembering the case they had been on, remembering how tense Spencer was, remembering how she told him to breathe, to just think, remembering how she reminded him of how smart he was. She remembered pointing something out, just something small, and it was like the dots in Spencer's brain had connected. She remembered how he’d marked something down quickly, remembered how he turned back to her with a breathtaking smile on his face.

She remembered how he moved forward and grasped her face, she remembered his words, his words that had made her feel a million different feelings, and almost nothing at the same time.

I love you.

She remembered every moment after, the shock on his face like he hadn't meant to say it, she remembered kissing him softly, she remembered repeating it back to him.

They hadn't stopped saying it since.

“Well, all I can remember is feeling amazed, feeling amazed that you could make me feel something I’d never felt before. I thought I knew everything, but I was wrong because I never knew how wonderful it would feel to love you. It was you, you were the one that taught me how wonderful being someones everything was, not JJ, not anyone else.”

There was a moment, a moment Y/N almost felt like the fire was gone, a moment she thought Spencer's words had blown it away.

It still wasn't enough though.

Flick, flick.

She still didn't understand completely.

“This is where I wanted to take you tonight, this was all planned, all for you,” Spencer said, leaning down and kissing her forehead.

He must have looked back at her and seen the confusion on her face because he continued. “You told me once when we had first started dating, that you loved sunsets.”

“You remember that?” Y/N answered back, surprising herself with her own voice.

Spencer chuckled softly at her, his smile reminding her of the one he had worn when he’d first said I love you. Everything he was doing was reminding her of little moments in their relationship.

She stared at his chest, her mind practically in the clouds.

“Well technically I remember everything…” he said.

Y/N looked up at him, looked up at his smile, her mind back with her body, she could feel her face contract with the muscles of her mouth.

It felt like the first time she’d smiled in days.

She shoved him back a little, softly, “Don't be a jerk.” she said, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Y/N…” she looked at his eyes. “This.” he pecked her lips, moving back far too quickly. “This is why we’re here. This is why I needed JJ's help, why we were talking about you, why I was panicking. This is why I've been so secretive.”

The fire.

He moved back. Burn.

He pulled something out of his pocket.

Y/N’s chest was flaring, her heart was beating, her head was finally, finally beginning to understand, finally beginning to know what was happening.

Her stomach was still on fire.

He kneeled down.

Too much, too much, too hot.

Flick, flick.

“Y/N.” a flare in her chest “You are,” a flare in her throat “the only person I have ever loved this much.” a flare burning up into her brain “the only person, I think, to be everything.”

Burn, baby burn.

“You are the only person to ever prove me wrong.”

A box.

A flame.

A ring.

“You are the only person who makes me forget everything,” Spencer said, he said as her chest burned, as the fire in her stomach, in her heart, in her head, as the fire flared. Spencer looked at her, he looked at her just as he always looked at her, looked at her like there was no other way he could spend the rest of his life, looked at her like he wanted to look at her forever.

She could feel her heart burn hotter and hotter.

Tears were coming out of her eyes.

She gasped.

“Y/N..”

Burn.

Bright.

“Will you marry me?”

Flick, fire, gone.

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#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds rp #criminal minds headcanons #emily prentiss x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg blurb

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dingdongitsbees · 4 years ago

Text

Gojo is a strong person | Gojo x gn!reader oneshot (Angst)

Synopsis: Gojo is the strongest, that was an agreed upon fact, or at least he thought it was until he met you.

The first time you had laid eyes upon him, you laughed.

“This is almighty Gojo Satoru, huh?”

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WC: 3k Tw: canon typical violence, death Just send an ask to be added to Gojo taglist! (specify if you don’t want angst etc)

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Gojo Satoru is a strong person, that’s what everyone knew. That fact was known by every shaman that had had their first breath and by anyone that laid their eyes on him, even if only for a split moment in the bustling crowds of Tokyo. It was a fact that the man knew himself, it could hardly be called egotistical if it was simply the truth that he was the strongest, though he toed the line of cocky so much that he had fully passed its threshold far before he even attended school. But his parents and his clan and the servants that worked there never gave him anything else to think.

He was better than them by the time he had first opened his eyes. He was a man whose mere existence disrupted the world so chaotically that any possible adversary would tremble at the mere thought of facing him. Gojo Satoru is the strongest, that was an agreed upon fact, or at least he thought it was until he met you.

The first time you had laid eyes upon him, you laughed.

“This is almighty Gojo Satoru, huh?”

He was stunned. People rarely smiled at him, only when trying to please him or gain something from him, laughs and giggles became shushed when he came near. Never had he heard such a clear laugh from someone aware of his presence, let alone laughing at him.

And like you had expected his frozen form, you gave him a knowing look and a smile. “I look forward to getting to know you, Satoru.”

To say that he was enamoured by you by the moment your smile reached your crinkling eyes was an understatement.

His high school years began and never had he felt more challenged in his life. He was the strongest, that still rung true, but until then he had never felt a desire to prove it, a desire to impress. His ideals and methods were questioned and criticised, his techniques scrutinised and forced to improve and adapt. His teachers, Getou, Shoko, even the younger students like Nanami, all challenged him.

Prove to us that you are the strongest. We will not accept a statement like that at face value. Prove it.

Now get better.

But none of them came close to you. You hounded him at every open opportunity, around every corner. And oh, did he welcome it. You’d challenge him to fights, lose almost every time, but always find something he did badly or should have done that he would obsess over for the days and weeks to come. You’d think of new ways for him to apply his techniques and go further beyond anyone that had inherited Infinity, aiding him reach potentials he didn’t even think existed or that he needed. You’d come back with an argument to anything and everything you disagreed with, answers he couldn’t look past or debunk, forcing him into a state of reflection which his parents had deprived him of.

Gojo Satoru was the strongest, but he learned very quickly that he wasn’t perfect.

He continued to change; adapt to everything you threw at him. His cocky attitude stayed carved in stone, his laughs at the weak were never missed, but he looked forward in excitement. He had never had that before you. His life path was laid out perfectly for him since birth, a life he had never asked for he once said. And you had replied.

“Then why are you following it? You’re the strongest, aren’t you? Then do what you want, no one can stop you.”

He soon realised that the flutters his heart experienced as he laid down in the grass next to you, staring up at the stars, was not just his heart stuttering at the beauty of the universe. His heart imploded whenever your fingers came close to his, subtle shoulder touches from passing in the corridors, laughs at his jokes that would get you into stitches, smiles that seemed to lighten his heart and drop his stomach like a rollercoaster, and eyes that stared into his soul.

And you knew, oh by god you knew what effect you had on him. You were no fool. But oh my, was it fun.

You had feelings for him too, you weren’t that cruel, and you knew that he knew that too. But you weren’t going to jump headfirst into a boy who couldn’t differentiate between what he wanted, and what he was expected to want. Who he was, and who he was supposed to be.

One night, like many nights before, you laid on his bed together, chips and chocolates and any wrappers of sweets he had impulsively bought surrounding you two. And that night he turned to you, question hesitant on his lips.

“What do you think of me? Who do you think I am?”

You pursed your lips, tilting your head towards him, thinking of what to say but you already knew the answer the moment he asked.

“You’re Satoru,” you said, a grin taking up half your face. “You’re just Satoru.”

He would never admit it, but he cried that night, he cried hard. And he wouldn’t have to worry, because you expected this of him, of course you did, you always did, and you held him. You held him as tight as you possibly could, as tight as you could hold a lonely boy crushed by the weight of the world that he never volunteered to lift. He was Atlas, but you were next to him, helping hold the world on your shoulders, even if you were scared that it would crush your shoulders into splinters, never would you have mentioned it.

The two of you continued to dance to the song that the pair of you had been listening to for years, waiting for one to take the step forward, to dip the other into no return. Dance the dance that had been safely done with a metre in between the two of you, not wanting to step on the other’s feet, not wanting to come in before the bridge started, not wanting to get the timing of the beat drop wrong. Things caused chaos around the ballroom that you danced in, friends lost to death or to wars of morals and ideals, faith lost in elders meant to protect you but instead fetishized tradition, guidance into the adult world being left in the air. But the two of you continued to dance, getting incrementally closer to each other, breath reaching skin, fabrics tripping over each other, but never quite close enough to feel the other, always a hair width away.

And like you had expected, like you had waited patiently for, he stepped closer, bridging the gap between the two of you. A smile stayed on your lips as he pressed his mouth to yours gently, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks in greeting. Satoru had finally become him. Not the shaman that was whispered between hands, the sorcerer who elders expected great things from, not just the strongest. He was Satoru, and that was as perfect as he was ever going to be, and as perfect as you wanted him.

Years passed and not even for a moment could you be bored when existing in the same world as Gojo Satoru. Every day was something new, something to tease about the other, another sign of affection that would make the other’s heart stumble, another reason to fall even more irrevocably in love.

You stood by his side with everything he stood for, staying grounded and as a point of reference of what he wanted this world to be. The world he wanted you to be able to live in. You argued by his side when trying to revoke death wishes that were put on Itadori, giving a smile to the higher ups when he insinuated the length he would go to in order to get the world of his own design. You would be slitting throats next to him before he had the chance to ask and everyone knew it.

Your name was whispered beside his now, one couldn’t be mentioned without mentioning the other. The strongest and the tamer. The one that had incapsulated every corner of Gojo Satoru’s heart and would never leave. The one that the man would burn down the world for if it dared to insult the love of his life, and the two of you would just smile through the flames.

Good and evil is relative, but neither compares to the terrifying ordeal yet comfort of being known by someone else through and through. Every pore and freckle and hair studied by the other until they know the other’s face and soul better than they know their own.

Satoru was only ever approached when you were away on a mission. There was no chance of compromise or pushing when you were in the vicinity. You knew what he wanted, and you wouldn’t settle for anything less than. Gojo Satoru was the strongest, but you had him happily in your hands at your mercy and direction, you were the scariest.

So it was no surprise to either of you as your missions were set far away from each other and at the most inopportune times. You barely had anytime to look in his eyes let alone talk of creating the world together like gods. But if they thought that mere curses would separate the two of you, they were fooling themselves. No amount of time, nothing the other could do, would ever stop the tyrannical love you held for each other, nothing would be allowed to get in the way.

Every night the other came home, they would hold the other’s cheeks in their hands softly, letting their love’s head surrender to gravity. You wouldn’t need to say a word, and neither would he, just quietly in your world for another moment before the other would inevitably have to leave. You would figure it out, the two of you always did, you would eventually get the world you talked about in the company of the stars like you had since you were teenagers.

When you got the call of your next mission you frowned. It seemed off, a special grade that had been spotted in Osaka, nothing you hadn’t dealt with before, but the slight stutter of the caller rang alarm bells in your head. As you packed for your mission Satoru stared at you from the other side of the living room, reading you.

“How bad?” he asked, his blue eyes caressing your face gently, a book on his chest he had long abandoned to just watch you.

“Just a special grade but…” you started.

“It feels wrong?”

You nodded. Asking him to come with you was out of the question for multiple reasons, both of you worked better alone, leaving no risk of the other getting harmed by a technique, Satoru had a lot on his plate already, caring for students and attempting to research and protect his students from the special grades that had begun popping up. And well, you were capable, this was something you knew how to do and had done for years. But still, at the back of your mind, it was screaming at you to run, to take the man in front of you and just run.

But you didn’t.

Instead, the two of you swayed in your kitchen together to silent music, his arms holding you tightly, afraid you would be stolen from him. You held your ear to him, his heartbeat calming down your neurons that were lighting fires in your brain. You stayed there for a little eternity, intoxicated with the other’s touches and love, but soon you picked your bag up from the kitchen counter, and gave him a soft and slow kiss. His eyes looking down at you half-lidded, drunk on the person in front of him, euphoric he got to be called yours. He watched as you left, your eyes catching his through the closing gap, giving him that knowing look and smile you always had.

It was worse that had been described in the report, far worse. The paper was practically a list of lies. You wished you could call for back up, to call for Satoru, but there was literally no time. The moment you arrived the scene was already in chaos, people getting eaten and dismembered like playthings by not one, but three special grades.

People weren’t listening to your directions, practically running into the mouths of the curses, several lower grade ones had come as well, as if called, making everything so much harder. You were in the middle of the war zone, trying to kill lower grades that were seconds away from killing a civilian, getting people out of there and to run, and fighting the special grades that didn’t give you a moment to breathe. Adults' limbs were torn off of them as they screamed to be helped, kids' heads exploded as you held them under your arms. The special grades just laughed.

They had cut you down more times than you could count on the fingers you had left, you couldn’t differentiate the blood pouring down your body from the ones who had died around you. You had managed to kill two of the three special grades, but the other evaded everything with a wide grin, directing the other curses like an orchestra. A symphony of shattering bones and blood curdling screams filled your ears everywhere, inescapable.

A child, one that couldn’t have been older than four, ran to you, stumbling over their feet as they sobbed. The special grade geared up, charging their attack. You took a deep breath and calmly looked at the world in front of you for a moment, time slowing down. Your mouth twitched up at the ludicrousness of it all and looked to the sky you had spent a lifetime staring at.

Sorry Satoru, looks like I won’t be coming home.

You grabbed the child, and curled around it, protecting it as best as you could, and waited for impact.

There was no other answer to draw from your mission than the fact that the higher ups had sent you on a suicide mission, they knew you worked alone, they knew that there was a limit to even how much you could handle. Because after you all, you weren’t the strongest. You were the disposable one. They had sent you, but not just so you would be the one to crumble.

No. That’s all Gojo Satoru could think as he raced through the corridors, he didn’t want to believe it, he refused to believe it. There was no such timeline where you could be separated from him, it was simply not allowed. A reality that was forbidden from coming to fruition. He slammed open the doors to Shoko’s lab, teary eyes glanced up at him before looking to the ground. They surrounded a table in the middle of the floor, barring him from seeing. He just stared with wide eyes, looking insane, not a single thought that they would be able to read. But you would know, you would only have to take one look at him and you would know what he was thinking, because you would sit up and look him in the eyes with the smile that he had carved into his soul. You would, you had to.

The group parted slowly, giving him access to the metal table.

There you were, lying down in what had to be a deep slumber, eyes closed, looking as beautiful as you always did and would continue to be. You had to, you had to. He took a step closer, his hands trembling at his sides, he reached forward, touching your cold cheek, his shaking sending little waves across your skin.

Shoko stood next to him with red eyes. She reached up to touch his shoulder, but her hand froze, stopped by Infinity. Her eyes widened. He took no notice of her, not acknowledging her for even a second. Her hand curled into a fist and dropped, looking away with a wobbly breath.

He cupped his hand underneath your head, lifting you to his chest. It was a mystery of how he managed to keep you steady. Ever so slowly he picked up your whole body, walking out of the room. No one stopped him.

He refused to acknowledge what his six eyes were telling him. There was no way, no conceivable way, that you could have left him. You would never do that to him. You would never dare leave him all alone in this world, the world that hadn’t been theirs yet. There were so many things they had left to do. So many things they were meant to fix. So many more days left to love each other. So many more days where you were meant to look at him and just see him, just see Satoru. So, there was no way you left. You wouldn’t do that to him, right?

Gojo Satoru was a strong person, that’s what everyone thought. He was the strongest. But the sound that came out of him as he knelt in the dirt outside the building as his body wracked with sobs, cradling you to his chest desperately, haunted all the hearer’s waking and sleeping states. Their dreams stayed infected with it for weeks. He begged to the universe and to you, begging through screams. It was so loud. It was so excruciating. And it was so, so raw. It sounded like his vocal cords were being ripped apart, and they wouldn’t have been surprised if that came to be true.

Gojo Satoru was a strong person, that’s what everyone thought, but now they weren’t so sure.

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