#i could add more but i lost my steam

[nururu]

I love how law became like, the crews step parent (step captain?) and fresh into having a new dad, their other dad Luffy has to leave on an important business trip, and all of wano is just like when your step parent is trying to get you to see them as the authority and ur like fuck off you're not my dad!

[vivy-nx]

hi!! look at my cool kirby walking simulator fangame i made over the course of last year!! i worked very hard on it!! it's downloadable for windows and linux!

[arolesbianism]

Vibrates. Normal. I'm normal. I'm so normal.

[sundrlands]

‘significance’ j. sunderland x reader

minors dni

cw: light face slapping, light scent kink, sub/top j. sunderland x dom/bottom reader, oral, breath play if you squint, breeding kink, light spit play, dry humping. no depictions of specific characterizations in regards to the reader’s looks. reader has she/her pronouns.

summary: what happens when two deprived people meet by accident? a server and that odd man who’d always come to drink coffee every morning at 6am. from awkward conversation to a dinner that turned into rough, needy indulgence. it was easy, a deprived little thing like him… it was just too significant.

a/n: this is years after the events of sh— no mentioning of the events either. forgive me if this is all over the place… it’s definitely a long one. i kind of went wild while writing this one. there’s more smut than there is plot but nonetheless… i hope you enjoy my very first james sunderland fic.

there he goes again… that odd man… in the same spot he’d always sit in. the farthest table by the window with no one to accompany him besides himself.

james… that was his name. james sunderland.

he was kind enough to tell you this after the tenth time he’d come in. you didn’t have to ask or even tell him your own name… mostly because you didn’t know how to approach that level of conversation. you were just a server— giving the customers phony smiles, a ‘hi, how can i help you today?’ and the fakest kind of enthusiasm when any other would try to offer a joke out of curtesy.

yet something about him… his somber eyes— with light wash of rosy pink coloring the bags underneath them— that looked as if he was deep in thought… as if he were to be troubled by something… or someone from his past… the short stubble that grazed over his chin and upper lip, and his body language that seemed as if he never wanted to be bothered or probably never slept. his gaze always wandered around the diner, out the window or at the soft ripples within the mug he’d hold. sometimes… you found him staring at you, nervously looking away whenever your eyes connected. you never understood why though or what he could be thinking each time he looked at you, so you never asked or gave it much question.

james was just a stranger who came at the same time, almost every single day— six in the morning, as the sky still glowed its grey hues— not a minute early. not a minute late. the bell from the diner’s door ringing loud and brash with the thick of his boots stepping on every creaking, rotten floor board.

each time he’d come, you’d watch him to see if he’d do anything different. maybe he’d add in a sugar packet… two or three… or maybe he’d get a breakfast sandwich like mr.colemen always did— the trucker who you knew had a wife but still flirted with the older cook, ms.miles on tuesdays— or maybe he’d bring in someone he knew to occupy his time… he didn’t. it was the same each time. he’d arrive, ask for seating and sit— not wanting anything else but his coffee— black. no sugar. no cream, just like he liked it he said. he’d watch the steam from his cup vanish until it ran cold then take his sips that felt like a lifetime in between each one.

you couldn’t lie… you were fairly intrigued by him… it wasn’t as if you hadn’t had regulars come in just as much he does, if not more, but something about him seemed different… the expression he always wore… he always seemed so lost in thought yet… so attentive in his surroundings. something in you wanted to know who he was.

each time you gave him a cup of his favorite black coffee, you couldn’t help yourself but try to formulate conversation after he gave out his name… but he was always just so fucking vague… each sentence he spoke was watered down— that trickled slow like shallow water… simplistic and dry, running in a soothing hum.

it was pretty. the way he spoke.

you told him that too. a gentle, ‘you have a nice voice’ after he sung a sweet ‘thank you’ after setting the coffee down in front of his hands. he was awkward about it, like he hadn’t received a compliment like this one or a compliment at all. no words given other than that, having the conversation run flat and you walking away in regret thinking, ‘maybe that was too much’.

it only took one day when you had been off shift to see him sitting at a park bench, the one at the end of the town with his hands in his pockets, back slouched and those same somber eyes staring into the park’s pound to finally sit next to him and not feel the dynamic imbalance hit you like how it did in the diner.

“james!” your breath creating its soft clouds within the cold air as you softly spoke, vanishing as it rose.

“ah!” he hummed, “funny to see you here.” he looked at you… the blonde strands flowing against the wind, his attention fully on you instead of him quickly trying to look away. it was direct, like he stared from within your body… you didn’t expect a person like him to have such good eye contact… it almost made you nervous.

“no coffee today?” you replied, offering a smile.

“afraid not. im just on my lunch break… needed some fresh air.”

“may i ask where you work? hope that’s not improper of me to ask.” you laughed quietly, taking a real good look at him. he was almost like a statue… a rugged one. his lack of fashion sense…and his ability to hold so much expression all the while it being so bland and so cold.

he chuckled, shaking his head as he turned his head back towards the pond, “no… no it’s not ‘improper’. it’s just an office job. pretty boring id say.”

“fitting.” you replied, “not that you’re boring! just… seems like a occupation you’d have is all.”

“i wouldn’t say that you’re wrong even if you did say that.” giving yet another humming chuckle.

you stayed for the time he had to spare. the conversation going just as you thought it would… awkward but he was sweet nonetheless. though it was the way it was, his words flowed with every sentence he spoke, like the gentle stream of the pond in front of you both or the thick clouds that scattered in the grey sky. it took you just a few moments to notice how pretty that man was. he exuded such odd comfort… and warmth that made you want to keep talking to him. listen to anything he said even if it meant nothing or sounded humorously stupid.

“well.” he sighed, grunting as he stood, “id love to keep… talking, but i have to go back.”

you nodded, exchanging your goodbyes as you watched him walk down the park’s path until his body disappeared in the distance.

and so, from then on it had been easier to talk to him. finding any way to get to know more about the odd man who only drank black coffee and stared at you from time to time. it started just at your workplace, quick and steady back and forth talk then at the park, then offering a time to spend together on your off day for breakfast.

that was the first time he had something other than coffee. it was the first time you saw him smile more than once… not a faint one… a real one— seeing how his teeth jumbled at the bottom of his mouth or the harsh smile lines appear by the sides of his lips.

the more you looked, the more you conjured how pathetic of a man james really was. his life seemed so dull… just like the springs occasional showers and faded blue skies… but he was like the sweetness of june— the warmth within this man was little to none but still, he captivated you with his odd charm even if he tried or didn’t. you couldn’t help yourself but to think it was so easy to get him flustered, to have him smile whenever you showed interest in whatever he spoke about… like a lost puppy who finally got attention after being alone for so long.

a slip of a compliment flowed in almost every other sentence, seeing him stutter in his words, choking up a thank you whenever he could. it was amusing… like an addiction. sewing your way into his life was oh so significant. he considered you a ‘friend’ to put it lightly, one who obviously stared at you whenever you weren’t looking: like at the pier. you stood in front of him, hearing the crows sing and the water waves crash against the wood— he’d eye down your frame, seeing the way your clothes hugged your form… dissociating the world’s music around you both with an open mouth and twiddling fingers.

each time, you acted as if you hadn’t noticed and maybe you were just that good for him to not pick up on it whenever you failed to mention or question why he’d stare so goddamn much. it didn’t matter anyway, you liked it just as much as he liked staring at you.

he’d sit stiff, noting how erect his back would be whenever you placed your hand on his shoulder, a soft grip given as you both spoke about whatever. he’d clear his throat whenever you stood a little too close to him, rubbing the tapered part of his hair on the back of his head with a line of ‘uh’ and ‘ums’ in between each word he spoke.

god… this man was just so pathetic.

“why don’t we have dinner?” you smiled as you turned towards him, the bustling chatter amongst the passing people as you both walked down the same park you and him had your first real conversation.

“oh.” he chirped, a quiet laugh intertwined in his speech, “sure. where?”

“my house.” you answered confidently. through the few months of you being his ‘friend’, it only seemed right, so you told him. you wanted him in a place of vulnerability. to rule out every other being that’d pass by or surround you while in public. you just wanted it to be you and him. him and you. “if that’s fine by you. im not too bad of a cook.”

“your house?” his voice fell flat but it was nothing that worried you. the ring of his monotone voice was thick and with how he reacted to your small gestures, you knew he was more than willing to oblige. “you don’t mind me… coming to your house?”

you gave a little nod and he gave a gentle smirk. james didn’t know what could happen once the dinner would happen but he had no reason to disagree… or even want to. he grew accustomed to your company, more than any coworker he had that tried to gather him for night drinks after tough shifts… or even the women who were so abrupt in their interest in him… the thin pencil skirts and revealing blazers. he didn’t care.

a date was given. four days from then after his early ending shift. and so time flew. he hadn’t come to the diner at six in the morning like he did, he wasn’t even at the spots he’d sit during his breaks from work. a part of you had been worried if he tried to avoid you, wondering why you haven’t seen him since your request. he wasn’t good at texting— sending him a ‘hi’ would only result to him replying a ‘hey’ three days later. you almost didn’t buy the groceries you needed to prepare or an outfit that wasn’t too much but definitely would grasp his attention.

luckily you did.

it had been the day and it was five in the afternoon, the sun setting itself and the wind blowing more rapidly, flowing with the night’s usual atmosphere. james stood at your door with the address you gave him not too long after he agreed for the dinner you proposed. he just stared at it’s wood, his heart racing without his mind fully understanding why. he was a grown man but too afraid to see your face until this very moment. so he’d stay in the house longer than he needed to without going to the diner in the mornings. he’d stay in his cubicle on his lunch break, finishing any extra assignments he needed done for his boss.

moments spent with his feet planted on the ground before he gave three knocks at your door. he waited, only for a minute before you opened the door. you were dressed so nicely opposed to his work outfit still on and the light fragrance of the food fumigating in the air, hitting his nose.

“you’re here.” you spoke, relieved that he hadn’t stood you up. “come in.”

and so he did. small talk was given, complimenting your abode and trinkets you had scattered all about, admiring the personality your home gave opposed to his apartment that was just there… only the essentials, almost soulless. you thanked him of course, going on about little things as he listened before you finished all that needed to be done for dinner— it was pasta. simple and easy to not fuck up.

two plates placed with wine in crystal glasses and forks being spun. you connected over the flavor of the sauce and the warmth of the garlic bread that complimented the pasta. everything went smoothly, more than you thought it would’ve. easy conversation with the add in of knowing more about who james was… though he was his usual vague self.

you couldn’t pinpoint why he had been or what was truly on his mind. in certain instances, he’d drift off, his eyes wavering with a slow chew before ending his sentence with something mundane. your curiosity kept prodding with each question you gave— he didn’t show feeling of intrusion but he wrapped around certain topics leaving you needing more to be answered.

it felt like twenty one questions… moreso… him answering yours than you were with his but his composure and hospitality hadn’t changed from his kind and awkward demeanor he’d always give. it took awhile before you realized you had been digging in his chest like a crow on a rotting corpse before you covered your mouth with a soft, inaudible gasp.

“ive been blabbering…” you say, shyly laughing as you continued the last of what was left on your plate.

“no.” he responded, his voice trickling like soothing raindrops against a windowsill, “you’re just curious.”

“that i am.” your eyebrows raising as you sipped the bitter red liquid of your wine, “but you’ve had enough.”

he shook his head, wiping his mouth with a nearby napkin as he gulped, “i enjoy the conversation. i just have a lot in my past im not too fond of is all.” you noticed his eyes again… that troublesome look… the blank stare. whatever happened seemed to had never left him. james was like a puzzle piece… all scattered… some pieces missing so the full picture could never be seen or even admired.

“don’t we all…” pursing your lips as you set your glass down, “…but that’s the beauty of life, yes? it’s shitty… things come and go. regret… wrapped in solace. but that only means you can make happier memories.” trying to be positive to remove anything he had stored in thought.

you saw his shoulders relax from its usual tension, his eyes finding their way towards yours with a thick silence being transferred between you two. “yeah.” he spoke, breaking the silence momentarily before it fell back. the white noise… the gentle buzz cradled your eardrums, sitting like a stone in both of your seats.

the contact between your eyes spoke a million words… ones that haven’t been spoken out loud— it was of interest, undeniable lust. from his constant gaze from when you once were strangers… his usual order of coffee, to the moments you spent together in numerous places to now. those pretty light eyes shook as they bounced from each part of what your body showed at the table. they were quick… hungry… without any hesitancy. he dared not to look away, enjoying the visual of your being in a place with no one around, just you both.

as for you… the feeling of his eyes felt like fire caressing your skin… as if his wherever his pupils directed themselves, you could feel. it felt like fingertips gliding underneath the fabric of your clothes… just as when he ate… the way his lips latched onto the silver of his fork— the unintentional sensual gesture as he slid it from his mouth and chewed. the coat of spit that was left across it, and the delicate way he held onto the spine of the wine glass. you wanted to replace the flavor of your homemade sauce with the flower of your labia… to feel the latch of his lips against your breast or on the sides of your neck. the way he ate gave you an intense feeling of need… greed… swelling indulgence. not to mention his goddamn voice… the voice you were already so found over— the subtle cracks and dips between certain vowels… how deep it was… how gentle it felt amongst the silence.

“james..?” you questioned, tilting your head slightly, almost in a trance by the tone of your voice.

he gulped roughly, already sensing whatever you were going to say by the look you gave. “yes?”

“may i kiss you?” the words flowing softly within a sigh, holding your breath as you waited for his answer.

he just stared at you, eyes blinking like a cat in comfort as he continued to stare. moments past… which felt like hours before he nodded.

you stood from your seat, his attentiveness not failing to follow you in whichever way you went, slowly walking towards him with your hand sliding against the rough stubble on his face. he exhaled through his nose, his eyes shutting closed, his body melting into your touch as if he longed for such embrace. he hummed… the vibration flickering against the tips of your fingers before you felt the warm air of his exhale against your lips. slowly you leaned, shaky breaths with a soft press of the lips.

his lips were so soft yet stiff, a long press, occupying the other side of his face with yet another hand, pulling his face closer to yours as you deepened it. james let you lead, his rough calloused hand grazing against your wrist with a gentle grip, simultaneously pulling you closer to his embrace.

at the touch of his lips, you felt yourself get jolted with pleasure in between your legs, the softness rushing to a hungered one— his lips opening, allowing your tongue to push through and taste the sweetness of his of spit. his mouth was warm and the muscle of his tongue slid into yours as spit started to slide down his chin… quickening breaths and an even louder hum than he ever gave.

with the sharp sound of the chair scraping against the floorboards, he scooted back, you unconsciously sitting onto his lap just to feel the growing bulge against his work pants. you sat right on it, feeling it press against your clothed cunt with a groan that wrapped around your tongue and down your throat. he felt big, and the throb of it excited you, having your hips think on its own with a heavy yet slow rut.

the hands that held onto your wrist fell at your hips, the tightness of his fingers digging into you as if he’d never want you to leave from his touch. your bodies molded into one, your breasts pressing against his heaving chest with your hands now gripping the back of his neck.

at release, your forehead pressed against his… his deep gasps sounding pathetic and irregular, lips ajar, trying to savor the feeling of your lips that were once on his. the creek of the chair upon your slow grinds were loud and obnoxious but that didn’t stop you from adding on more friction, loving the feeling of his hardening cock against you.

“let me… do what i want to you… let me make you feel good.” you whispered against his lips, feeling your words being sucked from his quickening gasps.

“please.” he whined… a sound you’d never heard before from a man, let alone one of business. his willingness in the subtle acceptance of him submitting to you had your mind fill with haze. the glisten of his eyes pleaded for something… anything… like he had never been touched before. “please…”

his face leaned in the crook of your neck, his nose nudging against the warmth of your skin, sharp inhales, devouring the perfume that coated it. light peppering kisses lining up and down, all along the side of your jaw. a smile crept up on your lips… you knew just from the sight of him that he was just a pathetic little thing. and with the way he acted just from a kiss… how hard he got with you sitting on his lap, you knew that whatever you did he’d grant you a reaction that would be better than any man has ever gave you or will give you.

you gripped the back of his head, a drunken stare as his lips still purse from the abrupt release of his kiss. “wait.” you breathed, pressing your finger in the center of his lips. he was so tantalizing… his eyes drooped with anticipation, knowing that since he has you now… his self control was little to none.

at the side of you finger, he kissed it, holding onto your wrist as you placed another finger against his lips. you watched and he watched you— his mouth slowly opening and guiding his fingers against his tongue. with hallowed cheeks he began to suck, bobbing his cute head down to the knuckle. curling your fingers, you felt his tongue slither in between, spit messily sliding down your palm and arm.

“good boy..” you praised, your voice in sync with the sounds of his sucks— a deeper whine trembling against your fingers at the sudden pet name.

you grinned, cocking an eyebrow at his reaction. he liked that? you thought. seems fitting.

sliding your fingers from his mouth, you gripped his chin, a gentle press given, “watch me.” you whisper and with a pull at your top, he watched. his eyes directing themselves at your breasts with an even quicker and excited exhale exuding from his whining lips. eyebrows furrowing at the need to touch, his hands hesitantly removing from your hips and curling, waiting for the okay to be able to grope them upon your request. unclasping your bra, they drooped prettily in his face, letting whatever you took off hit the floor beside the chair.

“come on pretty boy… touch them.” you slurred, your voice seductive, teasing him, watching how his eyes never left, just opening at the sight of your bare breasts. “i know you want to.”

he sighed, one that was pent up and riddled with eagerness. “oh my god…” his voice shook. james was driven by the lustrous nature of your body. captivating by the sounds that fell from your lips and the commands you spewed— each word directed itself at his cock, feeling it twitch and tighten at his pants. the way you were entranced by his eyes as he was with yours, looking up at them with admiration, need and desire that festered throughout his body, making him burn at the touch.

doe and gentle with a sweet song flowing in the disguise of a moan he sung. the single free strands laying against his skin, complimenting with the reds that blossomed at his cheeks.

‘i want her… i need her… all of her… i want it. i want it. i want it. i want it.’ he chanted in his brain— feeling as if he was going to pass out at how hard he was breathing— his hot mouth curling at the warm bud of your breast, tongue flicking at it’s hardened tip, pulling back with the gentle graze of his teeth until a pop was heard, pressing a series of kisses around your breasts.

you were drunk off the man. that poor pathetic odd man. his body calling for more… groping your breasts with vigor, feeling the shortness of his nails digging and molding them to his liking… and the little broken noises he made, so soft and sweet, higher than his usual tone. a fleeting glint of mischief glistened in your eyes, letting out a chuckle.

“that’s it…” your voice trailed, lifting your hips, starting to bounce on his lap, granting a broken moan to feather against your nipple.

“god… fucking dammit..” he exhaled, gritting his teeth as his body sunk into the chair, his feet planted harsher on the floorboards, bucking his hips upward, feeling the weight of you created more friction, his swelling cock pulsating. “don’t stop… please.” he whined, eyes squinted as drool fell from the side of his trembling lips.

your hands running in his warm blonde strands, “that’s a good boy.” you tightened your gasp, pulling it with a yank. he blinked slowly with a coo, “you like it when i bounce on it?” you teased.

he nods. his poor hips already tiring out, them stuttering at every upwards thrust. “yes ma’am… fuck it feels… it feels so good.”

planting your hands at his chest, you felt the fast pace of his heart, running your palms up his body until your fingers wrapped around his slender neck— each digit falling into his skin, hearing his strain. “poor baby… you wanna feel more don’t you?” you grunted, his head tilted back with your face hovering his. with a slight cock of your hand, it collided with the softness of his cheek, a loud yelping moan bouncing along the dining room walls.

“fu… fuck…” he stuttered, his lips almost at pout.

no woman had ever treated him this way, so rough and teasing and you hadn’t even fucked him yet. his nerves was heightened as his cheek burned with the faint remnants of your palm. never did he think he’d enjoy something like this, in fact… he was left speechless. the sight of his eyes looking more pleasing than they already looked. they never looked away from you, wanting to get every expression you gave… watching your lips as they continued to taunt him, needing to see the way your breasts bounced as you continued to rut against his lap above his pants.

“oh?” you chirped, noticing the deepening submission in his glare. “you liked that didn’t you?” your hips now stopping in its place.

weakly, he laughed, “i do.” his voice still so sultry and deep.

leaning closer to his face, your lips feathered his, exchanging breaths with shared smiles, “go on your knees and take it out for me.” your other hand sliding down slow until it cupped his bulge. removing yourself from his lap, now standing.

he lifted himself off the chair, taking off his bottoms and boxers. there he sat, like an obedient little thing, on his knees— his thick dick laying and jerking at every throb as it laid so delicately against his thigh— staring up at you adoringly with gleaming eyes, as if he had been admiring a star.

it wasn’t as if you necessarily thought about what he looked like underneath his boxers, but the sight of it made your eyes sparkle— it was so thick and long, it made your mouth water.

“james…” shocked and even more turned on at how pretty his dick was. the light graze of his brown pubes looking well kept. “fuck it’s so pretty.” running your finger down its side, hearing the most pathetic moan fall from his lips— his fists balling at the sudden touch. “needy little thing you are.”

it was cute. from the little slap you gave him and the way he wanted you to have your way, it only fed into the desire to treat this boy with some excitement. that dull life he had was now changed as thoughts puddled at your brain seeing this man look so weak as you stood to look at him.

“such a pathetic… pretty man.” you cooed, tilting your head, “and look at your dick.” his eyes dropping to watch it leak and pool at the flesh of his thigh. “it’s excited for me isn’t it?”

his fingers wrapping around his shaft, needing some type of friction… it was starting to get painful with how long it hadn’t been touched bare. whenever he was turned on in the comfort of his home, he’d jerk himself off until he fell asleep. over and over again until his wrist burned and his throat dried. he had no self control and with you around, he could cum just from your voice.

“take your hand off.”

“god i just…” he whimpered.

“mmh mmh.” your head shook, as you bent down, “hands off. i tell you when you can and can’t, do you understand?” placing your finger underneath his chin to raise it, seeing gentle plea in his eyes.

“yes ma’am.”

he felt belittled, unable to control his own person. a quick shiver fell down his spine, leaning closer into your embrace… just the soft touch of your finger gave him a bolt of pleasure. knowing if he touched himself, you’d slap him in retaliation. oh how he so desperately wanted that.

you unzipped your pants, stepping out from them, alongside your panties, already dripping against the inner of your thigh. placing a palm at the top of his head, your fingers gripped tight, angling yourself in front of his face.

he gulped roughly, staring at the swelling of your clit. “lick it.” without hesitation, his face fell in between your legs, his curved nose nudging against your clit as he inhaled, lapping his tongue in between the folds of your pussy.

the scent of it drove him wild— eyes rolling back as he continued to inhale, loud enough for you to hear. he smothered himself, the muscle of his tongue thickening with his lips latching it just to get the taste of you fully.

you were taken aback at how skilled his tongue was, how his nose stimulated your clit so lovingly with each bob of his head. obnoxious sucks radiated in the air with his fingers clasping against your thighs, hard enough to hurt.

moans trickled from your throat, gasping on the thick of the air, guiding him with the hand that gripped his hair. his tongue plunged deeply into your pussy, feeling his mold his muscle inside of your fleshy walls, thrusting his head to fuck your opening.

you felt yourself already needing to cum and that has never happened before. at least not this quick. the softness of his lips sucked so roughly and his tongue flicked so fast, your knees buckled inward, unable to keep up with the pace of his mouth.

“james…” your moans heightening in volume, your chest deepening after every breath you took, “your fucking mouth…”

his hair, all tattered and messy, with his eyes reddened from it almost tearing up because of the lack of air he was given, not stopping for a second as he drank in your arousal and your moans. a tingling sensation bounced off his body, circling through each part of his limbs.

the sounds of his sucks almost overpowering your moans itself, as he felt your meaty pussy flutter in and out his mouth loving how full you made his mouth.

“i can’t stop,” he gasped against your cunt, “it’s just so good… i love it, i fucking love it. fuck… fuck…” nothing in this man’s brain could made him stop. it was like he pushed himself in between your legs like he wanted to be apart of you— keeping his strength in his neck to keep his same motion.

removing himself to breathe, he gathered spit, directing at your clit and watching it drip before catching it in his mouth, rolling his tongue along the hood of your clit before latching on with hallowing cheeks. sucking in air, your body curled forward, feeling two of his fingers slide in the opening of your pussy. they curved as they started with long strides.

that ‘odd’ man surely knew how to please a cunt. fingers picking up its pace with the loud wet sounds interweaving the moans you both sung. “yes… yes… james…” you panted, his wrist steadying, feeling you leak against and down his knuckles. your walls clamping on his fingers like a heartbeat.

“im gonna..” you announced, your body trembling more than you could even control, your legs giving out with him quickly holding you up as much as he could— his face deepening in your cunt, grunting as he felt you cum against his tongue.

“mmmhm” he hummed over and over again, feeling you shudder against his face.

falling to your knees, your face was angled with his— his mouth wet all from his nose down to his chin. the sight of you, trying to compose yourself from the orgasm you had made him feel dizzy. “feel good?” he whispered, trailing your face from where it hung low, catching your lips. you could taste yourself on his lips, running your tongue at the flesh of his bottom, sucking it in your mouth with small nips before pulling back.

forming spit in your mouth, you held onto his cock, an immediate grunt rupturing from his throat, letting the spit falling down at his tip. brushing your thumb over it, lathering your spit down to his shaft.

“tighter… please…” he mumbled, foreheads now pressing as he watched your hand wrap around his throbbing and slightly veiny shaft, rolling your wrist in circular and jagged movements. tighter you held, hearing the sound of his throaty moans.

“like this?” you breath, quickening your pace. he deserved it.

lifting the bottom of his shirt, he placed the cloth in his mouth, seeing the light spread of hair that tracked up his navel and a hollowing abdomen at every whine he let out. “yes..” he gritted through his teeth.

his precum swaying around from the vigorous speed that continued to grow. he held his breath, brows knitted, body tense at the rhythmic pattern, veins channeling on your forearm with your fingers glazing against the underside of his tip. “look at me.” you whispered, his eyes slowly traveled up your body until they locked with yours.

you spoke of lust in both your gazes, hearing the wetness of his spit coated cock at every pump, hunger radiating in you both like you desperately needed this— shameless and passionate intimacy.

your body yearned to feel him inside and the way he stared at you— the burning sensation it brought you— made it difficult for you. you wanted to feel him stretch your cunt. pushing him back by the press of your palm against your shoulder, he lay. hovering over him, wrapping your leg over his waist before angling yourself over him.

slowly you slid down on him, never feeling something as big as his. even just from the tip, you felt yourself gasp heavily as you kept lowering yourself down onto him. “fuck you’re so… big…”

james continued his whines, eyes closing tight, his body shuttered… you were so warm, your fleshy walls holding him so comfortably. bodies slowly enveloping on another as he tried to talk to your body with his hands— sliding against your thighs, up your waist and momentarily on your breasts.

“you….” he breathed, it hitching as he mindlessly held his breath, with you pushing more of him into you— textured and wet, with a heartbeat that cradled the shaft of his cock. “your pussy is sucking me in…” he groaned, his ass tensing.

all of you. the sight of it all, each movement you made. fuck, didn’t you drive him insane. at this moment, he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer.

your pussy gripped his cock, deeper it went, as if your grip was unable to let him go. each moan you let out, your pussy clammed and mimicked each word as it pulsated against him.

he couldn’t stay still, whimpering as you started to lightly bounce against him— hands planted on his chest with a slight roll of your hips. you couldn’t believe how good he felt inside of you, how full he made you. with you already cumming, it was hard to keep yourself steady, feeling yourself break down each time you lowered yourself.

pressing his hand on your back, he turned you both, now with you on your back laid against the floor, “let me pleasure you… please.” he begged, both hands placed on the sides of your head.

“fuck me like the good boy you are…”

and with that, it was as if a switch had been turned on in his brain. using one hand to grasp your thigh, “like this?” he breathed, his words as slow as his thrusts, his drowsy-like eyes running up against your face. gritting his teeth, sucking on the cool yet hot air, eyebrows knitting together. he placed his forehead against yours, your hand now sliding up to his neck— the pads of your fingers and thumb pressing down the sides of it, slowly tightening your grip. with struggling breaths, his hips continuing his rhythmic thrust yet trying to find the spot, the spot that will lead you into ecstasy.

the hand that held your thigh pressed it down further, his knees fixing itself at a better position, now his groin aiming downwards. his thrust now falling into slow, hungry pounds, his balls hitting just above your asshole. “does it feel good here…?” leaning down as he pressed wet kisses at the edge of your lips.

all you could give were responding moans, your body overstimulated by every movement he made.

each inward thrust, you could hear skin slapping against one another, your breasts mashing into each other. lips trailing down to your cheek, then to your ear, his tongue running at the side of your ear then switching to the next, groaning a series of ‘fucks’ and your name as the thrust started to increase in intensity. they were once slow, now holding more power, grunting at each inward hit. “god. your… pussy… feels… so…. soo fucking… so goood…” each word ending in a hitch.

his voice now holding a deeper, grosser tone, more animalistic as he grew pussy drunk at how you wrapped around him.

he enveloped your lips, inhaling and capturing your tongue in his mouth, sucking on its pink muscle, bobbing his head and swallowing any ounce of spit that rolled down to the back of his throat. your tongue slipped from his mouth, pressing a long kiss against his lips once more.

your mind transversed across what could possible be the gates of fucking heaven at this point. each twist and turn of his hips hitting spots your fingers could possible never do, your damp walls clamping around his girthy cock—greedily needing to paint your insides with his cum, over and over again if he could.

"it feels good, it's so good...." you trailed off, lips pressing together as you muffled a few moans of satisfaction that sounded nearly like his name—the tip of his relentless cock hitting sweet, sweet spots with each charging pound. your hands removing themselves, now dragging and scratching into his back, tugging the flesh leaving continuous marks onto his skin— causing him to wince in blissful pain.

the reverberating sounds of your name rolling off his tongue along with the desperate whines and groans of pleasure only elevated your lust "you're obsessed with my pussy," you whined, head thrown back at the intense plunges against your favored spot.

your promiscuous ways dragging him down in the mud, wanting to rut and fuck you like an untrained animal. that alluring voice of yours, cracking into a moan after you tried so desperately to tease him.

your concaving walls collapsing at his cock, walls with a flowery texture that ran against the pulsating veins of his dick. your wails rushing to his dick alongside your suction— with each inhale making its grasp tighter than before. your folds clasping at the sides of his shaft at every pull.

he place a thumb so kindly pressed at your slippery clit. circling it slow, with rougher presses at each thrust, it’s hood pushing back, feeling your wet, exposed bud nudge at the skin of his thumb. each run around, he could hear it, how your slick found it’s way all the way to your clit, making it harder for his thumb to be held in place.

his body loosened, with his hips now controlled, it’s speed rising with a longer pull and harder pound, body muggy with a thin layer of sweat, with your face buried in the inner corner of his neck.

“i don’t ever want to stop fucking you… your pussy is too good.” his voice ridged and strained.

rhythmical slaps of wet skin colliding as his balls felt a sharp sensation each time it bounced against the sweetness of your hole. your pussy’s heartbeat causing his eyes to roll, holding his breath and letting it out shakily.

“fuck me just like that james… just like that.” your eyes widening with your legs wrapping around his waist. “im close!”

“i don’t want to stop fucking you… i wish i could fuck you nonstop… i want to keep going…” his chest madly rattling against his ribcage.

shivers cascading through your arms as they gripped his hair firmly once again. your beings were joined in such an impassioned, fervid act of lustful ignited bursting flames out of your bodies. “can i..." he breathed out, voice hoarse, “can i breed you… please… please..”

the walls echoed sounds of your repeated pleasure lamentations followed by his needy words and melting into the increasing melody of skin against skin, lead you over the hill, "cum inside! do it baby…" you uttered directly into his eyes, the familiar knot forming at the pit of your abdomen, convusling cunt tightening around his sliding shaft with each thrust.

he couldn’t stop himself, feeling you cum on his cock made him bury himself further inside, hot spurts of his own cum filling you with rolling eyes and harsh gasps. glazed spit lips, bodies trembling from their high, and strained moans.

his arms snake around your body, cum oozing down his balls and thigh. “fuck….” his body not even finished with his high, slow thrust to chase after the leftover high you both breathed out.

“god james… who wouldn’t known you fucked so well…”

laid out on the floor, you both tried to catch your breaths. the contrast between every moment of you knowing one another to now, fucking each other like your life depended on it, you couldn’t help but laugh.

how significant is it to have a simple man— attractive at that— with his usual order of black coffee in your house, fucking you without a care in the world.

you knew… this wouldn’t be the last time.

[churipu]

hii hope you’re doing good and taking care of yourself!! Can u do jjk men headcannons when their s/o is finds a bug and is telling them to kill it (can u also add nanami)

JJK MEN KILLING BUGS FOR THEIR PARTNER

featuring. nanami kento, gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen x reader

warnings. cursing, bugs ew.

note. hii anonnn, as a person who despises bugs a lot. yes. this request is just *chefs kiss*, and i'm doing absolutely amazing bby, hbuuu?? i hope you like it and thank you so much for requesting mwah mwah <;33

AND U GUYS WE REACHED 800+ FOLLOWERS??? i really don't know what to say, thank you so much <33 this means a lot to me, and i feel so loved i'm gonna cry. i love u all

NANAMI KENTO. your knight in shining armor. the moment you called out for him in a voice lacing with worry, he just knows what was up — you'd be fifteen minutes in your shower, and nanami is in the living room watching the television until you call out to him. voice loud, mixing in with the vivid sounds of water pouring.

"ken!"

he jolts up in surprise and walked towards the bathroom door, raising his hand to knock on the door a couple times, "are you alright, sweetheart?" he asks.

"come in, please," your voice was meek, and he could hear the shower turn off.

the male slowly opens the door, and he could feel the steam from your shower caressing his face lightly. you were there, still inside the shower with a nervous smile and a towel wrapping around you, "bug. kill. please?" was all you said.

"where is it, baby?"

you pointed at the sink, and there it was — the sacred and vile being, just sitting there beside the sink. though, it was so little nanami almost laugh, but seeing his partner being terrified; he was not going to make fun of them, he finds it adorable actually. and glad that the first thing you decided to do was call him for help.

nanami didn't even use a tissue, no hitting, no slapping, no squishing; he just grabs the bug in his grasp and tells you to have a nice shower and left.

your knight in shining armor.

GOJO SATORU. little bastard would definitely be all bark and no bite, he's all about that "oh, it's just a bug, baby. it's not like it's going to kill you" or "come on, baby, what's a bug going to do?"

until it flies. and he uses you as a shield.

"y/n kill that disgusting thing! holy fuck, i'm going to die." he cowered behind you, pointing at a little bug just resting on top of the kitchen counter — you rolled your eyes at him, not even having the energy to be as scared as him anymore.

"oh, it's just a bug, satoru. it's not like it's going to kill you," you mimicked his words sarcastically, and the male glares at you, wrapping his arms around you.

"it flies," he mumbled lowly, "bugs that can fly are disgusting. and don't quote my words on me, it hurts my pride," he kisses your shoulder, almost pouting.

"rock, paper, scissors? loser kills it," you asked him, raising your balled up fist with a smirk on your face.

he sighs, "bring it on, loser."

gojo lost. it took him half an hour and half a can of bug spray along with a mask to protect his handsome face from a possible bug attack, a pan lid to use as a shield, and a sandal (for protection) to get rid of the said bug.

SUKUNA RYOMEN. ignores you at first because you couldn't actually be serious? a human scared of a bug? just the mere thought of it makes him break out into laughter.

until he actually realizes it was that serious.

"brat, are you really not going to come out because there's a bug on the door?" he asks out in annoyance, standing in front of the door where you were on the other side of the open door, nodding with a lop-sided grin.

"come on, ryo. i hate bugs, 've always told you that," you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms.

"it's a bug. it won't do anything," sukuna mutters out.

"bug bites kill more people than shark attacks every year," you informed him, drumming your foot as your anxious eyes looked over to the bug as it moves slowly all over the surface of the door, "ryo, please. just squish it."

"why don't you squish it?"

"because i'm scared."

"well, ha ha. i'm scared too," he tells you with a proud smirk, crossing his arms. he finds joy in seeing you like this, really — he finds it laugh worthy, sukuna could do this all day.

"huh. the king of curses having a fear of bugs? how cute." you muttered out.

alright, that took him by surprise. the male stomps over to the door and got rid of the said bug almost immediately, "'m not scared, i was just kidding."

"i know, i said that so you could kill the bug for me," you walked out of the door, brushing past him with a big smile.

sukuna 00

y/n 01

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[negrowhat]

Fave Kisses of 2024

Continuing on with the handful of prompts I chose to do from @babyangelsky 's 2024 QL Wrap Up!

JackJoke's First Kiss from Jack & Joker. Oh it was like the tension pot had finally started to boil. Just bubbling and brewing and steam was finally escaping...whistling even. Jack had returned home full on ready to finally confess and Joke, who already KNEW, was sitting there ready to receive his blessing. Oh Joke was so ready for that kiss that he practically climbed into Jack's lap to keep it going. You could see the hunger in Joke's eyes and Jack's eager but gentle approach to the kiss. 10/10.

Dohoe and Juyeong's Snow Kiss from Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo. Something about the way they kind of lost themselves in that kiss. I was shocked Dohoe kissed Juyeong out in the open like that, but he was in a different place in his journey so maybe it's not so shocking. Juyeong's hands around Dohoe's waist??? Oh it was my favorite part and my heart all but stopped when Dohoe suddenly came to his senses and pulled away.

GreatTyme's Guitar Kiss from 4 Minutes. That soft ass dream kiss from Dr. Tyme's 4 Minutes had me absolutely OBSESSED. Idk it was just so romantic and so sweet and so perfect. I could just feel the warmth coming from the bubble Tyme was dreaming about. Tyme's 4 Minutes is still my absolute fave part of the whole series.

Huai'en and Xiabao's First Kiss from Meet You At the Blossom. I've talked about it and talked about it and talked about it some more. None of y'all are surprised to see this kiss on this list. I don't even need to explain why because I'm sick of explaining lol. Go watch our first ever Uncensored Wuxia BL. Nothing is implied it's all there. Go watch it now! MYATB is from the same writer of My Stand-In if that helps.

Sickly Phaya kisses Tharn from The Sign. That man woke up from a coma (that almost supernaturally killed him), snatched out his IV, and escaped the hospital. And where did he go? Not to go check-in with his lil granny and baby sister! NO! He went to his man's house and shoved his tongue down his throat. Man was white as a sheet and all he wanted to do was get his dick wet. And Tharn just let him. I loved that kiss and the makeout session that followed.

YakDee over shoulder kiss from Wandee Goodday. Pretty certain it was from their last love scene because they were kissing. I don't even remember how the scene went exactly (they fucked so much) but that lil peck over the shoulder was so gorgeous. Yak had his chest pressed to Dee's back and the 'YY' necklace was displayed so clearly. 100/10.

XNamping's High Heat Encounter from Every You, Every Me. That little peck right before things started to heat up. Just a quick lil lip touch to gauge the temperature...y'know see if it's what they both really want. It is. I know X was FREAKING out, couldn't believe he was finally being intimate with his long time crush.

SanVee's final night kiss from Century of Love. I'm a huge fan of the soft cuddly kisses we got from SanVee and that snuggle session we got right before San's last day was my fave. The way San holds Vee to his chest so tightly as they share gentle kisses. The impending doom hanging heavy over their heads. It hurt so fucking good.

RyuZen's Shower Kiss from The Rebound. One thang MeenPing gon do is kiss in a shower and do it right. Meen's giant ass does a great job of making Ping look smol and when you add water to that it is just so visually pleasing. I don't remember much else about the kiss except Ryu was all over Zen and Zen almost couldn't keep up. If we get another MeenPing series I hope it can sit at the top next to Gangster Oppa.

2J Bathroom Kiss from CityBoy_Log. The most recent volume of CBL was really good for 2J. They had just made up after Jihan ghosted Jaejun and IDK how Jihan conned Jaejun into helping him bathe but they do wind up in the tub together, fully clothed though because Jaejun said he was just going to help him wash his hair. And the next thing I know Jihan has Jaejun pressed up against the shower wall. 2J's kisses tend to be very audible and this one was amplified and my gawd those boys can kiss. And when Jaejun slams Jihan against the other wall and they finally share their 'I Love You's I was clutching the pearls. I'm realizing I enjoyed CBL more than I thought.

SunJunior's First Kiss from Caged Again. Oh it was so sweet. Love that they were hiding under the covers. I love that Sun had finally told Junior about him being a panther. That's a big secret to share and it did give me Malec vibes which could also add to my love for the scene. Love that Junior smiled at Sun the whole time. It was a great first kiss during a vulnerable moment for Sun and Junior. Loved how warm and secure it looked under that cover.

To my mutuals, please forgive me if y'all have multiple mentions from this one post...

[lilacliquors]

kinktober day twenty five: shower sex

pairing: homelander x reader

word count: 729

notes: happy day twenty five! only six more to go, and then i have to decide if i wanna do ficmas again this year lol. anyways look at this man in his civilian clothes goodnight

the hot water felt like heaven on your body after a long day. it relaxed your muscles and helped you unclench your jaw, just what you needed. and when you felt a pair of warm hands on your body, and arms settling around waist, you smiled and leaned back into them.

“hey,” you murmured, your head settling on his chest.

“hi,” he muttered, burying his face against your neck. you knew then and there that he’d had a rough day, and all he needed was you. you felt his hands simply begin to roam your body, gliding over your wet skin, caressing your sides, your hips, your stomach. you closed your eyes as he did so, and you let out a soft sigh as his hands traveled lower. you hummed when you felt his fingers ghost over your pussy, and then they pressed against you.

“john,” you breathed, and he shushed you, pressing his lips just under your ear.

“quiet. i need this,” he said, his voice muffled slightly against your skin. one of his arms came up to wrap around your chest, and his other hand began to rub circles just over your folds. it applied a slight pressure to your clit, and it made you bite your lip.

your hands came up to hold onto his arm, the back of your head nuzzling against his chest as he continued to rub those circles. it was surprising to you how gentle he could be, which made it increasingly clear that he just needed the closeness. he could animalistic when he needed to blow off some steam, but with the recent changes at vought, the ousting of stan edgar as ceo and his takeover, you need he was too stressed to think too much about anything.

“mm …” you hummed again, feeling his fingers run along your slick folds before gently dipping between them. you exhaled slowly, then swallowed as he began to pump his index finger in and out of you, opening you up enough so he could add a second finger. your grip tightened on his forearm, and you pressed your back firmly against his chest.

“fuck,” he groaned, nosing the side of your head, taking a deep breath so he could smell your shampoo. he felt himself smile and familiarity, knowing that you continued to use the same scent he mentioned enjoying ages ago. it was nice to know that you did things to please him, to make his days a little brighter. of course, it was what you should be doing, in his opinions. after all, he was a supe, the most powerful man on earth. and you were just a human. he could do whatever he wanted with you, be as rough or gentle as he wanted, and he knew you would take it for him, because you were his good girl, and you always aimed to please him. 

the speed of his fingers had increased as those thoughts wandered into his mind, and he only came back to reality when he felt you squirm against him. that sparked a strong desire in his gut, and he turned his head to nip at your neck as he continued to fuck you with his fingers.

“that’s it,” he groaned, listening to those shameless pants that left your lips. “feels so fuckin’ good, doesn’t it? feels good when i get to have my way with you …”

you nodded, your nails digging into his arm just to hear him groan again. you knew he enjoyed it when you gripped him tight, it made him feel wanted, needed, and he was. you loved him, cared for him, and made sure he always knew he had someone to come back to at the end of every day.

you could feel the muscles in your pelvis and stomach clenching, and he sunk his teeth into your neck as you came around his fingers. you nearly lost your balance, but he held you upright, still pumping his fingers in and out as you rode that high. when you finally calmed down, you felt him pressing kisses along your jaw, up and down your neck, and he smiled against your skin.

“that’s it. now, you’re gonna give me a few more, just like that. until the water bill is through the fucking roof. got it?”

all you could do was nod.

[serpentandlily]

Hello! I hope you are doing well ^^ I love (times infinity!) your writing and if you are accepting reqs, I have an idea for a short oneshot and I would like to share it with you and hopefully to bring the story alive! It's Rhys x Reader where reader is Rhys's mate and reader has a lot of duties needed to handle, especially being the mate of the High Lord. One day reader feels all type of exhaustion; mentally, physically, emotionally, psychologically, sleepness nights. Reader shut down the mate bond so that Rhys wouldn't feel anything and know about reader's emotions and wouldn't add more worry to Rhys. Reader always held their head high, smile on their face, and a strong persona as not to worry anyone. One day reader got too overwhelmed and decided to get a fresh air but as reader went out something happened (idk how to put it 😅 I'll leave this part to your creativity) and somehow during the process of everything of that something was happening Rhys found out about what their mate was truly feeling. Major major major angst, if you would like. Thank you so much in advance! 🫶

Ahhh tysm !! You’re my first request and I love your idea !! I hope I did it justice <3

Falling Apart for You - Rhysand x Reader

Summary: You’ve been a pillar of support for your mate and High Lord for as long as you can remember but when you receive some bad news, you can’t stop yourself from finally falling apart.

Warnings: angst, mention of loss, grief

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Everybody had a role in this group for their High Lord. Mor was his cousin, the one he could tease but always rely on, Cassian and Azriel were his brothers, the two people he could let off steam with in a way only Illyrians could–through fists and bruises, Amren, his trusted advisor and endless supply of knowledge, and then there was you…his High Lady and his rock. The one person in his life who he knew could handle everything he threw at you and more. His rock that kept him sane, supported him without crumbling, and held him up when he couldn’t do it himself.

And you loved being that person for him. He was your mate, your husband, your High Lord. You were honored to devote your life to the male you loved more than anything. The mating bond between you and Rhys had snapped right after he had just lost his mother and sister and had become High Lord of the Night Court. Suddenly, your life had gone from being a simple girl helping your parents with their farm in the countryside to a High Lady having to learn the ins and outs of running a court while also supporting your mate who was still suffering from the loss of his family.

You had done it all with a smile on your face. Because it did truly bring you happiness, Rhys brought you happiness. You loved him like the sun loved the moon, always one step behind him, ready to catch him if he ever fell. And you knew he loved you too. He practically worshiped the ground you walked on, spoiled you with a life filled with love and riches. And you were so grateful for everything he had done for you—and for your family. He had dug you all out of the trenches of poverty, given you a voice and power in a court who had previously never cared for its poor and unfortunate.

You never crumbled under the weight of the responsibilities of being a High Lord’s mate because you knew what it was like to constantly feel like you carried the world on your shoulders. Living in poverty meant always being strong because one mistake, one simple misfortune, could leave you without a home, without food, without anything left to your name.

So being the strong one, keeping your head up with a smile on your face despite the stress of everything, that had always been who you were. And that's exactly who you were for your mate.

So when Rhys went to that fateful meeting with Hybern’s General and disappeared for forty-nine years, you continued to be that person despite your whole world crumbling under your feet. You kept a brave face for your people, kept Velaris up and running without its High Lord, protected your court as best you could without your mate by your side.

You had begged and begged Rhys not to go to that meeting. Had begged him to let you go with him when he decided against your pleas to go anyways. And all it took was one night, one evil female, to completely ruin everything for you. Rhys had blocked off his end of the mating bond, something that was nearly as worse as death to you. But every once in a while, when things had gotten especially hard under the mountain for him, his control would slip and you would be hit with a wave of his emotions.

Disgust, pain, torture, agony, longing, guilt, grief, self-hatred, despair.

All the while, you had to keep a brave face not just for your people but for the Inner Circle. You never let them know the things you felt from Rhys through the mating bond. Didn’t want to add that burden to their shoulders. And despite how much they helped you in those forty-nine years, nothing they did would ever be able to take away the pure agony of knowing your mate was being abused and degraded and not being able to do a single thing about it.

You hated that part of you resented Rhys for that. For going to that stupid meeting despite you. For forcing you to run a court alone for forty-nine years. For locking you in Velaris with no contact from the outside world—no contact with your parents who lived on the outskirts of Illyria’s mountains. You were so angry with him at times.

But then he returned a broken male. Pale, thin and in pieces. So how could you ever let him know your true feelings? How could you ever even complain about how hard things had been for you here? He had gone through hell and back for you, for his family, for his court. So you sucked up all your feelings, bottled them away, and moved on. Went back to being his rock. Nursed him back to health. Shouldered every burden for him until he was well enough to resume his role.

And then the war came and everything got worse. Suddenly your work doubled and everything else had to be put on the backburner. You hadn’t even had the chance to visit your own family in the year after the barrier between Velaris and the rest of the world had finally come down. You focused all your attention and time on Rhys and your court. Just make it through the war, you would tell yourself. Just make it another day. When peace was reached, you’d finally be able to see your family—to hug your mother and father after fifty years.

It was finally all over and you were sucked up in the aftermath of rebuilding. With the newfound peace though, that hold you had over your emotions had begun to disintegrate. Without having to spend all your time focused on survival, the feelings you had buried deep inside of you had risen once again.

You were so tired. So unbelievably tired and overwhelmed. You could hardly sleep without being plagued with nightmares, rarely had an appetite. Mentally and physically, you could feel your body shutting down. It was hard to get out of bed most days, not that you would ever let Rhys know. He still had his own burdens and trauma to work through. The last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. So you kept your side of the mating bond well guarded, making sure he never even got so much of an inkling to what you were truly feeling.

You held a steaming mug of coffee in your hand as you slipped into Rhys’s office. A smile bloomed on your face at the sight of your mate at his desk, hunched over a bunch of reports and correspondence from other courts. All things you had already sorted through and weeded out the most important for him to look over. His beautiful face didn’t even lift at the sound of you walking in.

You set his mug down on his desk and moved over to his side to look over his shoulder at the paperwork. He grunted his thanks. You wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, pressing a small kiss to his throat.

“How’s it coming, my love?”

“Keir is still a pain in my ass. The Illyrians are still revolting against the idea of letting their females train,” Rhys grumbled. “It's taking longer to rebuild the areas in Velaris that got destroyed during the attack than we thought. And fucking Beron still isn’t responding to anyone’s letters about scheduling another High Lords’ meeting to discuss a new peace treaty.”

All things you already knew of course. What he didn’t know was the hundreds of other issues you had separated from the more important ones that you had dealt with this morning. Your hand hurt from all the letters you had written on his behalf. Your mind was numb after reading depressing letters from widows looking for aid because their husbands had died in the war.

You needed a break. He needed a break. You could feel yourself crumbling.

“How about you take a break for now,” you suggested. “And walk with me through the gardens before your meeting with Amren?”

Rhys let out a displeased noise and shook your arms off his shoulders. Hurt flashed through you at his dismissal but you tried not to let it get to you.

“Can’t you see I’m busy,” Rhys growled. “I don’t have time for a break.”

He was stressed, you knew that. But his words still cut through you like a sharpened blade. You were busy too. You had been for a long time. If you could see he needed a break, why couldn’t he see how much you needed one too?

“Of course,” you replied, keeping your pain and frustration out of your voice. “I just thought…Nevermind.”

You quickly scurried out of his office before he could see how hurt you were, not wanting to stress him out even further. You knew you shouldn’t take it to heart. You knew he’d likely apologize later. But it didn’t change the fact that it hurt. It hurt more than anything that he couldn’t see just how much you needed him right now. You hadn’t asked anything of him since he had returned from under the mountain, had never complained, never faltered in your support.

For once you wished it could be you leaning against someone else. You wished you had someone to hold you up right now. To be strong for you. But as usual, you were alone. So, so alone. Maybe it was your fault for not telling him but why should you have to? You had never had to ask someone if they needed you. Merely saw that they were struggling and went out of your way to help them without question. So why couldn’t your own mate do that for you?

You let out a long sigh and decided to take that walk in the gardens, even if you would do so alone. Maybe some fresh air would help.

The sound of birds and leaves rustling in the wind served as your company as you walked along the cobblestone path in the gardens. The scent of the spring-blooming flowers whirled around in the air. You should be enjoying it all but you couldn’t. Not when so much was on your mind.

Before you could take another step, a letter appeared right in front of you. It drifted to the ground and landed right at your feet. You picked it up, instantly recognizing the penmanship. Your name was written on the front of the envelope in your father’s handwriting. You frowned. You had forgotten about your family for the time being, lost in your work for the court. Forgot you hadn’t even seen them in fifty years.

You tore the letter open and read through the contents. Read it a second time. And then a third. No. No no no no. You squeezed your eyes shut and then read it again, hoping the words on the parchment would change. No. This couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be real. No.

You couldn’t breath, couldn’t see, couldn’t think.

You didn’t even realize you had fallen onto your knees. It felt like the entire world was collapsing on you. Every little thing you had been holding up suddenly too heavy. You wanted to scream and scream and scream. Wanted to vomit. Wanted to burn this whole city to the ground. The hold you had on yourself was ripped apart. Your entire being felt like it was ripped apart along it.

This was it. This would be the final thing that snapped you in half. Years and years of being strong, of keeping this court together in Rhys’s absence, of fighting through a war. Doing all of it with your head held high, with a smile on your face as you held your mate night after night. Let him fall apart in your arms and put him back together. You had survived through all of that but now this?

Had all of that been worth this? You had neglected your own life, your own family. Guilt crashed into you. Guilt, anger, agony. You had sacrificed so much to be a strong pillar in other peoples life and this is how the universe repaid you. You read the letter once more, the parchment crumbing as your grip tightened.

To my dearest daughter,

I have written to you twice a week for the past fifty years to no reply. I am beginning to worry my letters are not finding you. But I hope and pray this one does. Your mother has succumbed to her illness, angel. I wish I could’ve told you in person. I wish you could’ve been here for her last moments. I am putting off her funeral for as long as I can in hopes that you are able to come home and help me put her to rest, angel. I know how busy you are and how much you do for our court, so I hope you do not feel guilty for not being here. Your mother was so, so very proud of you, angel. She loved you so much and she wouldn’t want you to feel that guilt.

I hope this letter finds you. I will send a messenger as well but I fear they might not make it to you in time. Please come as soon as you can.

With all my love,

Your Father

You could feel your magic swirling inside of you like a beast begging to be let out of its cage. You knew you’d take the whole damn city out with you if you released it here. So with half a mind, you winnowed away to the one place you knew would be safe.

You had no idea that your control over the mating bond had slipped in your grief. Had no idea you had just flooded your mate with years and years worth of pain. Had no idea that he collapsed over his desk, overwhelmed at the emotions bombarding him. He was shocked, stunned at the emotions that were coming through to him. His mate was suffering, deteriorating, and he had been so blind to it all. His hands clenched into fists and he rose from his desk. He needed to find you, now.

Your magic spiraled out of you like a monsoon. The earth surrounding you was scorched black, the trees all broken and bent out of place. You had released wave after wave of magic until you were burnt out completely. And now you lie in the wake of your destruction, crying and crying. Hugging yourself on the floor. Your mother was dead. DEAD. And your father had been trying to reach you for fifty years to tell you she was ill.

But Rhys had closed off Velaris when Amarantha had come. Had made every fae not in the city forget of its existence. And so his letters had never reached you. Not until this one that came now that the barriers were gone. Now that the whole of Prythian knew about the city. But it was too late. You would never get the chance to see her, to hug her, again. She was gone.

A wave of darkness took over the field and your mate appeared from it, his face cold and stony, as if he were expecting to come face to face with danger. You watched as his violet eyes took in the sight before him. Of the valley you had destroyed. And of you.

His face fell and he rushed towards you but you scurried away on your backside. You didn’t want to see him right now. Didn’t want him near you. He was partly at fault for all of this. He was the reason your father’s letters had never made it to you.

“Y/n…” he whispered your name, his voice filled with despair. “What’s going on? What happened? Are you okay?”

A sob broke free from your lips and his face crumbled further. He knelt down on the floor in front of you, reaching a hand out towards you but you turned your head away from it. “Please, darling. Please tell me what happened. What’s wrong?”

“W-what’s wrong?” you choked out. “Now you want to know what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean, darling?” he questioned. “Of course I do. You know I do.”

“Seriously, Rhys?! Ever since you came back to us, you’ve barely even looked at me! You hardly ever ask how I’m doing. Hardly ever make time for me, your mate! So why would I ever think that you cared now?!”

“I’ve been busy, darling, you know that,” he said, softly. “But I’m��”

You cut him off, crawling towards him and shoving a finger to his chest. “And you don’t think I have?! You think I haven't been busy too?! I have put everything I have into keeping this court together! I have spent hours and hours doing work so you could focus on the important things! I spent the past fifty years holding Velaris together while you were gone! I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a break, or even a day to myself! And you don’t even seem to recognize how much I do for you, how much I have done since you’ve been gone!”

“Darling, I had no idea—”

“Of course you didn’t! You never ask me how I’ve been. You never asked me how things were here when you were gone. Did you know when you were under the mountain, you’d sometimes send your feelings to me? Do you have any idea how hard it was to know you were suffering and not be able to do a single thing to help you? I begged you not to go to that party! Begged you! And then instead of letting us try to help you, you locked us all up with no way to get out!”

“I only had seconds to make a decision,” Rhys stressed. “Seconds. I’m sorry, darling, but I did what I had to in order to keep you safe, to keep Velaris safe. I don’t regret it.”

“I know, Rhys. I know how much you suffered for us. But what if I had done that to you? What if I had made that decision and forced you to spend fifty years stuck in Velaris while I was being tortured every single night?”

“I…I don’t know what I would’ve done, darling. I probably would’ve torn the whole world apart to get to you.”

“I considered it. I really did. But I knew you’d made that sacrifice for a reason. So I put on a brave face and I kept Velaris running the entire time you were gone. Kept our family from falling apart. And then you came back to us and I was so relieved, Rhys. But you were different. You had gone through hell. And then the war happened. Once it was over I thought maybe now we’d get to take a break, to just spend time with each other, to finally heal. But you just keep throwing yourself into work and I have to just smile through it all because I’m your High Lady and that's what's expected of me.”

Rhys seemed at a loss for words, taken aback. For some reason, that only made you angrier. You ripped at your stupid gown, at the jeweled necklace around your throat that cost more than your parent’s farm, and tossed it to the ground.

“I never asked for this! I never asked to be a High Lady! To have to run a court! I was just a farm girl, Rhys. And then you came along and suddenly I had to be this perfect, educated, well-mannered Lady. Do you realize how much effort that took? Do you realize how out of place I feel most of the time?”

“Darling, I’ve never expected you to be anything other than yourself,” Rhys said gently. “I love who you are. I fell in love with you when you were just that pretty little farm girl and I have loved you ever since.”

“Maybe you don’t expect me to be anyone else,” you cried. “But our people, our court—everyone wants something from me now! They expect me to be like you, expect me to know the answers to all their problems! And I’m supposed to do it all with a smile on my face, with grace and appreciation! And I’m just so tired, Rhys. So, so tired.”

“I had no idea you felt this way, darling.” Rhys reached for you again but you backed away from his touch once more. He frowned, devastated. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me you needed a break?”

“How could I?” you cried out. “After everything you went through, how could I be the one to demand a break?! I sucked it up, for you, for our court. And Gods, I can’t do it anymore, Rhys. I can’t. I’ve fucked up and now I can’t even say goodbye to her!”

Rhys’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Darling, what are you talking about? You haven’t fucked up anything. It’s me who has let you down. What do you mean you can’t say goodbye to her? Say goodbye to who?”

You ripped your father’s letter out of your pocket and thrust it against his chest. He took it out of your hand gently as you fell apart all over again. You sobbed as he read it, his eyes widening as he looked up at you. “Oh darling…oh, my love, I am so, so sorry.”

He grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. You didn’t have the energy to fight him off—too lost in your grief. “You closed us off from the rest of the world. You made my father forget about Velaris. I never got any of his letters, Rhys! And now it's too late! She’s gone and it's too late.”

You choked on your own sobs and he tightened his arms around you, stroking your hair as he held you close. “I’m so sorry, darling. I am so, so sorry. I never meant for this. I didn’t even think…I’m so sorry.”

More sobs ripped from your throat and Rhys rocked you as you cried and cried and cried. It hurt so much. All of it. It was just too much. And even now you felt guilty. Guilty that you had dragged him out here, had unloaded on him.

“Don’t do that, darling,” he whispered against your hair. “Don’t feel guilty. Let me help you for once. I know how much you’ve done for my court, for me. I’ve been shit at showing you lately, but I love you so, so much, darling. And I appreciate every single thing you do for me, for our family, for our people. I’m so sorry that I haven’t been showing you just how much I appreciate you. I love you more than the stars themselves. I do not know where I’d be right now without you and I am just so sorry.”

You couldn’t reply. Couldn’t do anything but cry as you thought of your mother and father suffering all those years without you. You had been taking care of everyone else, everyone except your own family. And now it was too late.

Rhys held you close as you cried. Stroking your hair, pressing kisses to the top of your head, whispering how much he loved you, how sorry he was. And for once, you let yourself falter. Let yourself be held and coddled by your mate, the one person who loved you the most. You both had suffered so much, for far too long.

After some time had gone by, he pulled you back to look at you. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “Let me take care of you, darling. Let me take you to your father. I will put together a proper send off for your mother, okay? I will get everything settled while you spend some time with him. And then after you put her to rest, we can go to the cabin and spend the rest of the week there. Just us. I won’t let anyone bother us. Okay? Will you let me do that for you?”

You sniffled, staring up into Rhys’s eyes. He stared down at you with love and admiration. Stared at you like you were the answer to all his questions. The most precious thing to him in the world. And you could feel him through your mating bond, sending reassurance and comfort to you. The floodgates completely open.

His touch was so loving, his gaze telling you everything you needed to know. So, you nodded. And then melted back into his arms and finally let him be the rock you crashed against.

[bookuce]

Fools Rush In

SUMMARY: Nessa wasn’t looking for love, neither was Joe, but when you know, you know.

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OCs. The book uses actual names of wrestlers. Josh is Jey, Jon is Jimmy, Trinity is Naomi, Joe is Roman. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events (matches, storylines) could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAAANKS. *

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x Black OC

TROPE: Love At First Sight

WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 2.3K

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER FIVE

Nessa felt like shit, figuratively and literally. She blocked his number once she got home from Joe's hotel. Vanessa didn't want to see any texts or get any phone calls from him. She felt guilty enough for ghosting the man. Seeing or hearing anything from him would only make things worse. 

She sat on the shower floor, letting the water pour over her head. She tightly wrapped her arms around her legs, her eyes shut while she focused on breathing. The warm steam from the water comforted and relaxed her while she attempted to take her mind off what she had done. Unfortunately for her, she was failing miserably. Though her night was drunken, she could remember every bit of that evening. 

She could feel his hands on her body--all over her body, memorizing every dip and curve she had. Despite being pounded by the water from the shower, her skin still tingled in places he touched. Images of his face contorted in bliss, flushed pink cheeks, and sex-clouded eyes filled her mind. Oh, those eyes. Those eyes, hands, and perfectly pink and swollen lips kept reeling her in each time she thought she finished. How many times did he make her come last night? She lost count after the third time.

His voice echoed in her mind. Just like that, he praises. How do you want me, he asks. You feel so good, he tells her. The huskiness of his voice would send shivers down her spine. He somehow managed to make his already deep voice sound even more resounding. The way he spoke sometimes sounded animalistic. There was a growl with certain words, especially when he would say her name. 

Vanessa brings her right hand up to her ear. She swore she could feel his ragged breath on her skin just then. The tremble in his voice and the moans he let out were things she never heard before with a man--at least not with any man she's ever been with. Joe was vocal, but this wasn't a bad thing. She enjoyed that he talked her through the things they did. He made her feel in control at times, powerful even. She learned something new about herself, a new kink unveiled. 

Joe Anoa'i left quite the impression on this woman. Well, he did promise to make the evening unforgettable for her. Now look at her, dickmatized on the bathroom floor. Maybe she was overreacting about sleeping with the man. She needed this. She needed to be unwound and loosened up. She hadn't had sex in a year! She would never mention that out loud, though. It was bad enough that Isabel looked at her as if she grew three heads every time she remembered that her best friend was practicing celibacy. 

Everyone needs to have sex! She'd exclaim. There are health benefits to it! She'd add. She would ramble on about it being a natural stress and pain reliever. Did you know sex can cure a migraine? Te lo digo, Nessa, es bueno para la mente, el cuerpo y el espíritu--Yes, yes, she knows.

Despite her newfound guilt, she felt refreshed when she woke up this morning. Her body wasn't sore. It didn't hurt when she walked. She felt pretty light on her feet. It could have something to do with the fact that Joe stretched her--Alright, that's enough. Vanessa reaches to turn off the shower. The warm water ceased, and cold air rushed to sheathe her body in goosebumps. 

She pushes herself off the floor, a small sigh leaving her body as her joints pop with the movement. She steps out of the shower, snatching the towel that hung just above her head on the shower curtain rod. She wraps it around her body, exiting the bathroom. Instead of drying herself off, she drops onto the bed. Her eyes would meet the ceiling as she sucked in a tired breath. Vanessa brings her hand to her face, allowing her palm to drag down it. Her arm would then fly out to rest against the bed, hitting her cell phone. She turns her head towards the direction of the phone, flipping her hand over to grab it. 

The light turns on on the screen, displaying the time to her. It was now ten o'clock exactly. She watched her phone screen as if she was expecting a notification to appear. One would never come, though. Unblock Joe's number, commands a voice in her head. Unblock his number and text him. This voice wasn't thinking about her at all; at that moment, it was thinking about what Joe could do for her--what Joe could do to her. Look at her, acting like a touch-starved woman--Well, she was, but she refused to give in to those temptations again. Nessa did it once--er, twice...three times last night, but never again. She had a moment of weakness. Yeah, that's what she was going to go with. 

Texting that man after sneaking out while he slept and blocking his number would be foolish. He'd probably call her every name under the sun if he had the chance. Vanessa couldn't say she doesn't deserve it. She was a jerk and entirely too old to be doing this. She drops the phone back onto the bed, her eyes falling shut as she does so. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." She mutters to herself. Vanessa rolls onto her stomach, burying her face deep in the comforter she laid upon. She draws in a deep breath before letting out a muffled scream against her bedding. 

Why was she even this torn up over ditching a guy? People did it all the time. They hook up, and they go their separate ways! It's not like she was ever going to see the guy again. Joe lived in Pensacola, nearly a ten-hour drive from Miami. The chances of them ever running into each other again were slim. There was no need to feel embarrassed or upset, but for some reason, she was. These can't be her feelings; maybe they were his. Soul ties are a thing, or at least that's what she read somewhere once before.  

She lifts her head from the mattress, her eyes searching for her phone again. Once she locates it, she snatches it from its spot on the bed and opens her browser. How to get rid of soul-ties, she types into the search bar. Several links would appear on the screen before her, her eyes quickly skimming over article previews. "Addiction?" She whispers to herself, her brows furrowed. "The fuck..?" She turns off the screen of her phone once more. Perhaps she's being dramatic.

These feelings she felt are temporary and eventually will be a thing of the past. Hopefully, in about a week or two--or four, things will be alright again. Joe Anoa'i is a complete and total stranger to her, someone she met less than twenty-four hours ago. There was still plenty she didn't know about him despite getting to know the man last night. She learned normal, surface-level things about him; fun facts, if you will. It wasn't enough to pine away over. He was still a stranger to her. 

Nessa pushes herself off the bed, now walking to her closet for undergarments and clothes. She couldn't sit around the house, no, not in this state. Vanessa needed to get active and move around. Sitting at home would do nothing but make her mind drift off to the events of last night, and the last thing she needed was to think herself into a horny slump. Maybe a jog will fix this. Yeah, she'll go for a jog. 

Joe turns onto his side, his arm stretching out to drape over something that wasn't there. His dark brows knit together in confusion as he allowed his hand to glide over the empty spot next to him. The sheets were cool to the touch, meaning his bed was empty. He forces his eyes open, his semi-unconscious suspicions confirmed almost immediately. Nessa was not next to him. He lifts his head from his pillow, glancing around the room in a half-sleep daze. "Nessa?" He calls out groggily. 

He'd get no response back. Joe becomes still, his breathing quieting as he listens for movement. The suite was silent. He moves onto his back, his eyes finding the high ceilings cast in a dim white glow from the light outside. Alone was not how he imagined his morning would begin, but that seemed to be his reality.

BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!

Joe sighs at the sound of his phone ringing from the nightstand. The timing for a phone call couldn't be more perfect. He lifts his head, reaching out to snatch the phone from its spot. Without checking the Caller ID, he swipes to answer the call. "Hello?" He says. 

"I thought your ass was never going to answer," Josh says from the other side of the phone. "Ay, you good?" Joe scoffs slightly at the question. He was something. He hadn't determined how he was feeling just yet.

"Yeah, I'm good." He lies.

"You sure?" Jon chimes in, now leaning into Josh's phone. "Because the damn plane was supposed to leave thirty minutes ago, and your ass ain't here."

Joe's brows furrow slightly at Jon's words. "What're you talking about?" He asks. Slowly, he pushes himself up in bed, allowing his hand to prop him up. His hair would fall around his face, dry curls caressing his cheeks. 

"You late, fool!" Jon exclaimed.

"Ay, Paul over here tweaking, Uce. You in trouble." Josh sings.

"Yeah, I ain't ever seen him this red before. Boy, that man is hot." Jon sings. Joe throws back the covers from his body, standing from the bed. His joints would pop as he stretched, a sigh leaving his lips as he did so. 

"Is that, Joe?" Paul says in the background. "Let me talk to him." Joe rolls his eyes, his head moving in a circular motion as he does so. He didn't have time for this.

"Nah, it's our dad, Wiseman." Josh lies. "Bruh, bring your ass on." He says lowly to Joe through clenched teeth. The call will end, sending Joe back into silence again. He tosses his phone on the bed, his eyes taking in the room around him.

"Ness?" He calls out again. No answer. The bathroom door was open; the small room shrouded in darkness. He'd grab a handful of sheets, pulling it from the bed to wrap around his waist.

Thin, white cotton sheets skimmed delicately against the marble floor as Joe approached the staircase. He stops at the top and peers over, hoping to see the beautiful woman from last night down below, but she is nowhere to be seen. He spots his clothes draped along the back of the couch, but hers, which once laid alongside his, is now gone. Joe's head turns slightly, his eyes finding the morning sky outside his windows. Vanessa had snuck out before he woke up. Has he ever had this happen before? No, no, Joe couldn't recall. Maybe while he was in college, but after? No, he couldn't say he has. 

Like he said earlier in the night, he wasn't interested in hooking up with her, and what happened between them was not planned. He just wanted to spend his last night in Miami with her. One thing led to another, and they ended up in bed together. Getting her there was not his intention at all. Hopefully, she doesn't assume that was what he had planned with inviting her here. His mouth would twitch to the left as he sniffled. Now that he thinks about it, maybe that's why she snuck off.  

Again, that wasn't his intention, and he thought he did a good job assuring her he wasn't one of those guys. Did he slip up at some point last night and say or do something that might've thrown her off? He recalls the night just as he remembered it best. They talked, swam a little, and lastly, came back here. Nothing happened between the roof and the bedroom, he thinks. The wine they had wasn't too strong--at least not strong enough to hinder his ability to remain courteous. 

Joe's gaze lowered to the floor, his shoulders rising with the breath he was taking in. He was feeling plenty of things right now: embarrassment, disappointment, confusion, and maybe a little anger. The anger is what confused him, though. Vanessa was essentially a stranger--why is he upset that she left? 

Try to call her, a voice says to him. No, shoot her a text instead, it backpedals. He shakes his head at the thoughts. No, both options were heavily confrontational. He didn't want to come off weird to her, but then again, it was probably too late. Joe lifts his hand to his forehead, pushing his hair back against his forehead. He shuts his eyes only briefly. "She's just a girl." He mutters, lifting his head. For some reason, those words sounded untrue--coming from his mouth. Was it a false statement? 

It doesn't matter--he'll get over it eventually.

Joe slowly turns, now sauntering towards the bathroom. He needed a shower. Vanessa's actions had left him questioning himself again. Was it the sex? His brows would knit together at the thought. It couldn't have been. One thing he knew for sure was that he was damned good at that. His mind would drift off to last night again. 

Joe thought they had spectacular bedroom chemistry. He and Nessa left not a single part of that bed untouched. How they managed to stop themselves from going longer than they already did was beyond him. 

His hand skims the wall, flicking on the lights within the bathroom. He'd come face to face with his reflection in the mirror, finally seeing his disheveled appearance. His hair stood wildly on his head, his curls defined in some spots and tangled in others. He looked well-rested despite getting hardly any sleep at all. The flight to Texas would be irritating with how the twins said Paul was acting. With how Joe felt, Paul might get some of that attitude back. 

He should've left yesterday when he said he would.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: I heard a lot of y'all was judging Nessa for sneaking out the crib before Joe woke up lol

What's that all about? Y'all wouldn't do the same thing after a one night stand? 😂😭

🏷️ list: @thesamoanqueen @whatdoeseverybodywant @headoftheetable @mzv11 @southerngirl41 @yana3sworld @wanderingreigns @wrestlingprincess80 @siriuslycee @vebner37 @astridxxxxxx @alichesmi @tshepisho @scarlettnoir01 @brokenglassslippers @reignsboy19 @sayyestoheav3nn @cyberdejos2 @empressdede @sisinever @truefant4sy @paigereeder @tbmotw @fearlesschimera @venusesworld @usoholic @sageispunk @bebesobrielo @jstarr86 @vibessonvibes @issahyland @queeny23 @pytbgeezy @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, mention of violence, swearing, mention of death, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts.

Word count: 3k

A/n: the next 3 chapters won’t follow Scream 6 plot as I wanted to add more storyline to the characters outside of the movies. If you want to read just Scream 6 plot, skip to Part 12. I’m also not going to follow the original timeline as Scream 6 will take place two years later from Scream 5. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Iris leaned against the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in hand, gazing out the window at the bustling streets of New York. The city hummed with life, a vibrant symphony of honking cars, distant sirens, and the chatter of people rushing by. It had been a month since she, Tara, and Sam had moved into their modest apartment in Brooklyn, and slowly everything was falling right into place.

"Can you believe we actually live here?" Tara exclaimed, bouncing into the kitchen with a bright smile that lit up the room. Iris, lost in her thoughts, jumped slightly at her voice. She turned to look at her friend and found herself taking in Tara's relaxed appearance. Her hair was still damp from her morning shower, and she wore an oversized sweatshirt that hung loosely on her frame. Feeling a strange flutter in her chest, Iris quickly averted her gaze, a wave of confusion washing over her. What was happening to her? As a distraction, she reached for the coffee pot and passed Tara a steaming cup. "It feels like a dream," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

"More like a chaotic dream," Sam replied, emerging from her room with a stack of books. "I can't find anything in this mess. I'm still trying to locate my favorite sweater."

Iris chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Which one? The black one? Or the other one that's also black? Or wait—what about..."

"Point taken! It's not my fault black goes with everything!" Sam exclaimed, feigning annoyance at Iris's playful critique.

"Oh, I see you're breaking out the spring colors," .

Sam threw a small book at her, but Iris was quick to dodge it, laughter bubbling up as she ducked.

"Maybe it's a sign that you need to embrace the New York fashion scene," Tara chimed in, grinning.

"I rather die but thanks"

As they settled into their new routine, the trio found joy in the small things: discovering local coffee shops, exploring vibrant street markets, and hosting movie nights along with Chad and Mindy in their living room, which was still adorned with unpacked boxes. Soon they were going to start their classes so they were trying to enjoy the most they could before they inmersed themselves in books. Iris was also searching for a job because she didn't want Sam to be the only one contributing financially, and she wanted to stop her mom from having to spend money on her.

Some weeks later, even with Iris getting a job on a coffee shop, they soon realized that money was still running short. With rent prices in New York being what they were, they knew they needed a fourth person to share the burden. They set up an anonymus ad, detailing their apartment and what they were looking for. They were all wary but they knew they didn't have a choice.

After a few interviews that felt more like awkward first dates than roommate searches, the trio finally met Quinn, a girl with fiery ginger hair that seemed to glow under the dim light of their cluttered living room, and strikingly blue eyes that sparkled with confidence. She was majoring in biology, and perhaps the most intriguing detail was that her dad was a cop. As she strolled into their apartment, she instantly filled the space with a vibrant energy.

The living room was still a whirlwind of unpacked boxes and mismatched furniture, a mix of secondhand finds and items from their old homes. Colorful pillows were scattered across an old couch, while a coffee table was littered with snacks from their latest movie night. A small bookshelf leaned against the wall, stuffed with books that had yet to find their proper places. The air carried the faint aroma of popcorn mixed with the floral scent of a candle they had lit in a moment of desperation to mask the smell of takeout.

"So, how long have you guys been looking for a roommate?" Quinn asked, casually leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed with an air of confidence.

"For a few weeks, but as you can see, we haven't had much luck," Sam replied, gesturing toward the chaos. Her tone was laced with a hint of frustration, but there was also a flicker of curiosity in her eyes.

"Is it because people in New York are weird, or are you guys just too strict?" Quinn quipped, raising an eyebrow playfully, a smirk dancing on her lips.

"Honestly? A little bit of both," Tara admitted, sharing a knowing glance with Iris as they both recalled some of the more bizarre people they met.

Quinn let out a soft laugh. "I get it! You should have seen my last roommate, she was a little bit weird. She had a pet rat, and that little fucker would sneak into my room all the time!" She shuddered dramatically, her eyes wide with mock horror, and Iris couldn't help but snort at her antics.

After a bit of small talk, Quinn leaned in closer, her curiosity piqued. "So, where are you guys from?"

The three friends exchanged glances, an unspoken agreement passing between them. "We're from Woodsboro," Sam said, determined to be honest, at least about this part.

"Oh, okay. I think I've heard that name before," Quinn replied, making a nonchalant face as she glanced around the apartment. "I come from Philadelphia, but I think I already mentioned that" she added with a light laugh, her eyes sparkling.

"Why did you move here? Just for college?" Sam asked, genuinely curious about the girl who seemed to fit right in.

"Well, actually, I moved because my dad got a job here at the police station, and I figured I'd apply to a university while I was at it," Quinn explained, her tone brightening with pride.

"Your dad is a cop?" Iris inquired, raising an eyebrow, intrigued. After Quinn nodded, she exchanged a quick glance with Tara. Having a roommate whose father was a cop felt like a safety net in their world, right?

Sam, sensing the conversation flowing nicely, offered to show Quinn what would be her room and slipped away, leaving Iris and Tara alone in the living room. They both knew that Sam had her own agenda, to continue interrogating the new girl.

"So, what do you think of Quinn?" Iris wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

"She seems nice. It could be good," Tara replied, her tone thoughtful as she leaned back against the couch, letting the cushions cradle her.

"Maybe she likes horror movies too, she could even join our movie nights!" Iris exclaimed, though she knew no one was going to interrupt the nights in where Tara tried to convince her that horror movies are the best.

"Nope, that's our thing, just you and me," Tara said, playfully rolling her eyes as Iris draped an arm around her shoulder.

At that moment, Sam and Quinn returned, and Sam subtly nodded at Iris and Tara, signaling that they'd found their new roommate. . "Well, Quinn, pleasure to meet you, and welcome to your new home, I guess!" Sam said, her smile a bit awkward but genuine. "My sister and Iris will fill you in on everything else you need to know."

Iris gave a thumbs-up to Quinn, feeling a mix of excitement and nervous energy. She had to get used to someone else living here. "Yeah, welcome! It's a bit chaotic, but it's home," she added, trying to reassure her.

"Okay, cool!" Quinn replied, then added with a teasing grin, "By the way, you guys look really cute together. How long have you been dating?"

Both Iris and Tara froze, their eyes wide in shock. They exchanged a quick glance and suddenly they realized that Iris still had her arm around Tara's shoulder, and Tara had inadvertently intertwined their fingers. This was not looking good for them.

They quickly disentangled themselves, deep blushes spreading across their faces. "Oh, no, we're not—" Iris stammered, her heart racing.

"What? No, no—" they spoke in unison, completely flustered and embarrassed.

"We're just friends," Iris clarified, trying to regain her composure, her voice a little shaky. "Best friends!"

"Omg, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to assume!" Quinn exclaimed, her face a mix of embarrassment and amusement, her cheeks flushing as she realized the misunderstanding.

Iris and Tara waved it off, trying to hide their awkwardness, while Sam stood to the side, silently laughing at the whole situation, her shoulders shaking with suppressed giggles.

After some time, Quinn excused herself, and the three friends were left alone once again, the tension still hanging in the air. "Well, that was fun. I'm just gonna go..." Iris said, signaling backward toward her room, desperate to escape the lingering awkwardness. "To my room."

Once Iris left, Sam turned to her sister with a teasing grin, her eyes sparkling with mirth. Tara, however, pointed a finger at her, ready to defend herself against any teasing that was sure to come.

"Not a word, Sam," she warned, her voice stern.

"I didn't say anything," Sam replied innocently, her grin widening as she leaned against the wall.

"You're thinking it," Tara shot back, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Everyone is thinking it" Sam quipped, unable to hold back her laughter any longer.

"Shut the fuck up".

Two weeks later, classes started. Iris adjusted her backpack as she hurried across the bustling campus of Blackmore University, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. It was her first day, and the sprawling brick buildings felt both intimidating and inviting. The crisp autumn air filled her lungs, energizing her as she navigated through a bunch of students chatting animatedly.

She finally reached her classroom, a bright, airy space filled with wooden desks and large windows that let in the golden sunlight. As she stepped inside, Iris found a seat near the front and unpacked her notebooks, eager to absorb everything she could. Just as the professor began the lecture on cognitive behavioral therapy, a girl with brown hair and a bright smile plopped down in the seat next to her. "Hey! Is this seat taken?" she asked.

"Not at all, you can sit".

"Thanks, I'm Anika". she introduced herself with an enthusiastic smile.

"Iris," she replied, returning the smile. "Nice to meet you!"

The lecture unfolded, filled with complex theories and intriguing concepts, but Iris couldn't help but sneak glances at Anika. The way she scribbled notes furiously, then made funny faces at the professor's overly serious demeanor, made Iris chuckle more than once.

As the class came to an end, Iris gathered her things, and Anika turned to her, an excited glint in her eyes. "So, what did you think of the class? Aside from the professors boring voice"

Iris laughed. "It was interesting but I'm not gonna lie, he did make me wanna go to sleep at some point"

"God, I wish we could steal their coffee" Anika quipped, her smile wide. They both stood, now surrounded by a stream of students making their way out of the classroom. "What other classes do you have today?" Anika asked as they walked down the hallway together.

"I have social psychology next. How about you?" Iris replied, feeling a sense of ease as they chatted.

"Same! I guess we're officially psychology buddies," Anika said, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

As they settled into their seats for the next class, Iris couldn't shake the feeling that she had just made her first friend. Throughout the lecture, they exchanged snarky comments and jokes, growing more comfortable with each passing moment.

After class, as they wandered outside, the campus was buzzing with energy, students lounging on the grass or rushing to their next classes. Anika turned to Iris, her expression turning more serious. "So, what made you choose psychology? Just curious."

Iris took a deep breath, thinking about how her own experiences shaped her decision. "I guess I've always been fascinated by why people do what they do, why they are willing to do things that sometimes are not morally correct" Iris had always been interested in psychology but after what happened eight months ago, it was like she had this need to understand people's actions and maybe to understand her own. She pulled the trigger that killed someone and she still doesn't feel bad about it to this day. She couldn't say all of that to Anika yet so she decided for a simpler explanation. "It feels like understanding people can help us navigate through the chaos of life. Plus, I just want to help others find their way, you know?"

Anika nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I get that. I want to figure out how to help people but also how to help myself. I mean, if we can understand our own minds, maybe we can navigate better this world."

"Exactly!" Iris said, her heart swelling with the connection. They exchanged numbers before parting ways, both feeling a spark of excitement for what lay ahead. As Iris walked back to her apartment, she couldn't help but smile at the thought of her first day.

After two months of classes at Blackmore University, they all settled pretty well into their new lives. They had already met Chad's roommate and new friend Ethan, and even though they didn't really talk, he seemed great. So she decided it was time to introduce her new friend Anika to the rest and what a better introduction to her group than a movie night.

*Hey! We're having a movie night at my place this Friday. Wanna join?* Iris sent a quick text to Anika.

Within minutes, Anika replied with an enthusiastic thumbs-up emoji and a string of excited messages. *Count me in! What are we watching?*

Iris grinned as she typed back, *Some classics, does pizza sound good to you?*

As Friday evening approached, everyone was already there, arranging cozy blankets and cushions on the floor.

"So tell me again, on a scale of 1 to 10, how pretty is your friend?" Mindy asked, her tone mischievous as she plopped down onto a cushion. Just as Iris prepared to respond, she swiftly threw a pillow at Mindy, who expertly dodged it.

"What? I'm asking an important question!" Mindy defended, her laughter echoing in the room.

"I agree with Mindy; I want to know too!" Chad chimed in, raising his hand like an eager student, a grin stretching across his face. He leaned forward, clearly invested in the banter.

"You both are disgusting. I'm not going to answer that," Iris said, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the amusement dancing in her gaze.

"So, like, a ten then?" Mindy shot back, winking at her brother, who snickered at the playful exchange.

Just then, the doorbell rang, slicing through their lighthearted conversation. Iris jumped up, a flutter of excitement in her chest, and rushed to the door. She swung it open to find Anika standing there, vibrant and cheerful, a large bag of gummy bears in one hand and a couple of cold beers in the other.

"Hi, girl!" Anika greeted as they embraced each other, stepping inside with a wide smile that radiated warmth. "Didn't know what to bring, so I brought my two faves!"

"Beer and candy? Yeah, everyone is going to love you," Iris exclaimed, grinning as she led her friend into the living room.

Chad was the first to approach, extending his hand with an inviting smile. "Hi, pleasure to meet you! We thought Iris invented herself a friend,".

"Asshole," Iris muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes at Chad's antics while stifling a laugh.

Ethan, Quinn, and Sam soon joined the introductions, each welcoming Anika with friendly smiles. Sam, however, approached a bit more cautiously. Still, she was as nice as she could be for Iris's sake.

Anika's gaze then shifted to the shorter girl in front of her, and her smile widened. "Ohh, you must be Tara!" They embraced warmly. "Iris talks about you all the time."

Iris's eyes went wide, and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. "The fuck, no, I do not!" she protested, trying to sound incredulous but failing to mask her embarrassment.

Tara beamed at Anika, her confidence surging. Once she heard Iris's flustered response, she couldn't resist. "I mean, she just said you do. Can't get enough of me?" Tara declared, her tone playfully bold, reveling in the moment.

"I only talk about how much you annoy me," Iris shot back, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at Tara, who laughed heartily, her joy infectious.

Tara turned around just in time to see Anika mouthing to her, "No, that's not true," and the girl couldn't help but smile. Oh, Tara really liked Anika.

Tara moved closer, a playful glint in her eye as she threw the pillow back at Iris, leaning in as she did. "You're extremely red," she teased, enjoying Iris's flustered reaction.

"No, I'm not!" Iris protested, her voice a little too defensive.

"Like, actually crimson," Tara quipped, laughter bubbling in her throat.

"Go to hell Carpenter".

"I just love to annoy you".

"Yeah well I'm going to love to push you out of the balcony".

Anika then turned her attention to the last person she hadn't met yet. She found herself in front of a strikingly attractive woman with curly hair, who was staring at her with her mouth slightly agape, as if trying to process the situation.

"Hi, I'm Anika," she said, her smile bright and amused as she took in the girl's stunned expression.

"H...hi, I'm Min...dy," Mindy stammered, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. The moment was comically awkward, and both Chad and Iris exchanged glances, barely able to contain their laughter at the sight of Mindy's flustered face.

"Nice to meet you Mindy"

"Yeah same". Mindy came out of her stupor. "Please make yourself comfortable". And she proceed to show her around the apartment.

"It's not even her apartment". Iris said.

"Let her be gay in peace".

As the evening unfolded, soon laughter filled the room as they settled in. Mindy, strategically positioned herself next to Anika. Even with the movie playing, they all stayed up talking. Mindy and Anika continued to find ways to strike up a conversation with each other, it seemed that they had a lot in common. Anika cracked an extremely funny joke at one point, to which Mindy gave a loud snort.

"Did I really just laugh-snort? Oh no." She was embarrassed as Anika just giggled in endearment.

"It was cute".

Iris stared at her two friends lightly flirting with each other and she couldn't help but smile at Mindy's face, she was in complete awe as she listened to everything Anika had to say.

Well, mission get Mindy and Anika together just started.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Pussy Steve in a leg spreader is all I can think abouttt... Unable to escape any of the touch and he's sooo sensitive guh

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

Ngl, since you sent this in in fucking August, oh god, this is all I've been able to think about.

I just... yeah. It's been on my mind. There's something about spreader bars that I fucking dying for and putting pussy Steve in one? Why didn't I think of that earlier!?

Since Bucky and Steve stumbled into the discovery of how fucking good messing around could feel when they were horny, clumsy teenagers all awkward and lanky limbs, Steve has sworn that the thing Bucky likes most is, just, punking Steve. Fucking with him.

It started legitimate, at least. His thing.

His kink, maybe.

Back then, when Steve was all too close to stumbling and falling through death's door from his precarious place curled up on its stoep like some abandoned orphan, it was for his own good. He didn't want to admit it, not even fucking close, and Bucky didn't demand that he did, but he kept it in mind regardless. He kept Steve still yet aroused, enough to keep him hard (or most of the way there) but not enough to send his heart into a frenzy of the wrong kind. That, usually, ment working him up nice and slow. But, somewhere along the way, between life and body altering transformations and devastating plunges into death and through it, the habit stuck. Maybe they just never had time to learn any other way, though.

Now, still, Bucky fucks with him by winding him up nice and slow. Consistent and sensual, as if waiting for his body to work itself up through its slow circulation and anemia and everything else going against him. He likes to watch the color wash into Steve's pale skin; he likes to feel how he burns hotter with rising arousal; he likes to hear the stuble pick-up of Steve's breath, getting more shallow and hitched; he likes to know that he's making Steve feel good, good enough to be a tugging, distracting current that's not breaking right now, not yet, but it will be, it will build and build and get to the point where, eventually, Steve just can't stand it and he'll shatter. But. By the time that he's breaking, he'll have been so fucking worked up that he doesn't see it coming. Sometimes, that means cumming without a sound, mouth hanging open, nothing but a silent exhale of agony, or, sometimes, that means cumming with a shocked, unrealized wailing-moan as he flails over the edge whether he wants to or not. He's been boiled alive, the water growing hotter so incrementally that he didn't even know.

It's that moment that Bucky chases: the break.

The moment of the break. But, still, getting Steve--a stubborn little spitfire--to break isn't half as fun without a crazy-long, agonizing wind-up. It adds to the break. The anticipation makes it better. Worse, to Steve.

Today, the slow, consistent, easy wind-up wasn't as, uh, private as usual, though. Steve wasn't laid out on the couch in their apartment, held in Bucky's lap, back-to-chest, with Bucky's fingers finding their way up his tight, tight shirt to trace over his skin, the valleys and hills of his muscle definition. Bucky just 'innocently' touching until he's not, circling and plucking and playing with his sensitive nipples until Steve's panting and has lost all sense of time. When did this even start? What time is it now? Will this ever end? Steve wasn't in their shower on a slow, lethargic evening--nothing done all day but lay around, alone together--Bucky sliding in behind him to wash his body and tease him until he's plenty fucking wet to let Bucky in by the time he reaches between his legs, sliding his thighs apart with relaxed, unhurried hands. Fingering him with no rush. Not even stretching him out on more than two fingers. The two of them enveloped in nothing but pouring sheets of water and hot steam. If the mirror could, it'd be blushing, watching Steve get pressed tight against the glass shower stall wall, his face and tits smushed, displayed, all pale pink and desperate. Steve wasn't in bed, either, under orders to not move an inch, or Bucky would stop. Still, still, still--not tense but torturously relaxed--as Bucky skirts the line between massaging him and tickling him, waiting for him to be 'ready...' Whatever that means. Steve's past ready. Hot and wet and puffy between his legs. One touch there, and he could come apart. If only Bucky would. But, no, none of that. Steve wasn't alone.

They weren't alone.

Well, at one point they were, now, when it really fucking starts, they aren't alone.

Winding-up, tighter and tighter and tighter, Steve is trying not to fucking lose his mind in the middle of a goddamn meeting. He's fucking surrounded. All sides. Right. Left. Behind him. Infront of him. Some people are in their supersuits and other agents in low-key, blacked-out S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms.

It's a storm of faceless, nameless shapes that are hardly even people to Steve right now. Whatever the hell this meeting is about (debrief? It's got to be a debrief, right? Bucky wouldn't endanger him or other innocent people by preventing him from taking in intell, right?), Steve isn't registering a lick of it. Instead, he's focused solely around the buzzing, aching, nearly-silent bullet vibrator in his boxer briefs. They're just fucking tight enough to keep it in place, nevermind how Bucky just so effortless slipped it into the pocket at the front of his drawers like it was meant to be there--as if there was no way in hell that Steve would go without it, of course, not.

Steve and Bucky's ears are the only ones that can pick up the subtle earthquake plundering Steve, crumbling his earth, inch by inch as that fucking tiny ass vibrator pulses, buzzes, and rumbles tightly against his swollen clit, soaking the dry-fit material of his boxers.

Oh, god.

All the fucking hours--it feels like hours--they've been sitting here Steve's had to keep himself from squirming or whining or doing anything that'd tip off anyone to the toy going at him. Whatever Bucky's doing to control it or whatever pre-set he's put it to, the pulsing vibrations are perfectly balanced to keep Steve balanced on the razor edge of agony. It's not enough to make him cum. It's too much to not be desperately arousing. And it's not consistent enough to be ignorable. He's still fucking sensitive to it, even after all the dragging, droning conversation.

Trying to keep himself together has resulted in the flush that he knows is painted across his cheeks, sitting high like a sunset just starting, not yet kissing the horizon line. But, more, the way he's sweating like a dog. He can feel the rivers of it pouring down his back, pooling underneath his arms, the dimples of his back, and down his asscrack to the insides of his thighs where he's urgently pressing them together. He isn't sure if he's making it better or worse for himself, pressing his legs together. On one hand, it makes him less fervently paranoid that someone else can hear his little vibrator where its rawing him, making him crazy, but on the other hand, clenched tight in his fist, it's making the vibrations spread through him so much easier. A rock thrown into a pond with the ripples emanating out, lapping at the shore. Steve's nerves are the taut surface of the water, every single vibration a pebble that builds into not little ripples but huge waves that lap and erode at his edges, making him think he's about to cum in his chair, hardly resisting from grinding into his seat, bucking his hips and letting his eyes roll back, his lip coming out from between his teeth to moan more like a roar, finally fucking released from his ongoing torture and devastated by how it eats at him. All that pleasure. Too much.

Right when Steve's about to fucking tap out, thunk his head on the table and shoot his hand down between his clenching thighs to ride his own hand to completion--shoving the vibrator tighter against his wet, wet, wet, and swollen, tortured, clit--as he moans. Fuck all the people in the room, they all have to sign so many NDAs to work for an agency like this, what's another one for, oh, yeah, that time that Captian America orgasmed out of nowhere in the middle of a meeting. Right then, Bucky's metal hand lands heavy on his upper arm, digging his fingers into his bicep through his suit and dragging him to his feet.

Steve feels like a mess.

Steve is a mess.

He can't believe no one else knows what's happening. He's hardly lucid enough to grunt out a 'yes' or bob his head or to anything to make it seem like he's on the same fucking planet as all the people around him. It's just enough, though. Just enough. Not, not enough--

If Steve was sure everyone knew what was happening when he was using all of his self-control to not hump the chair he was sitting in, then he absolutely fucking knows that everyone is immediately crystal clear about what's going on when Bucky hauls him out of that boardroom. Bucky is dragging him away, steadying him on his shaking feet, to fuck him into next Sunday. They know.

Bucky is dragging him off to fuck him.

Pre-emptive relief crashes over Steve like a wave at the realization and he pays fuck all attention to the sights and sounds around him. All he knows is that one minute they're in the meeting, it's dismissed, and the next minute, Bucky has cornered him in the elevator, and they're moving. They're alone. Steve doesn't just melt against the hot, solid line of Bucky's leather-clad body, he disintegrates.

His knees go weak, and his hands curl into clinging, pawing clumsy things that won't work. His face buries itself in his chest--between his pecs, if they were naked like they ought to be--and groans with all the breath in his chest, punched out.

Indulgently, Bucky holds him there like that for a moment, scruffing him around the back of his neck like he's a shaky, anxious kitten. Steve might as well be the way he mewls when Bucky brings up one of those fucking killer thighs to grind against his pussy.

Steve mewls.

The thick, solid muscle of Bucky's thigh forces him to confront, right fucking here in this work elevator, just how wet he is. He's wet. Soaked. Vibrating hard. He's been dripping the entire time they were in that stupid meeting, messing up his boxer briefs and probably even the inside of his suit--it's gonna be a bitch to clean. It's gonna smell like sex forever.

Steve isn't thinking about cleaning.

Steve is, oh, oh--

Bucky has him right fucking there, about to fucking cum, he's so close, he can feel the heated, tangled knot of pleasure pulling taut low in his belly, about to fucking fray apart. Pulled apart. It's in the back of his throat. He can feel it in his teeth, creeping into the muscle of his jaw, he's half-clenching his jaw and half letting it hang open. He doesn't know what his face is doing; it's probably fucked-out and dumb. But--

"Ah, ah, ah," Bucky tuts at him, pulling his thigh away and pulling him up by the nape of his neck.

Steve doesn't give a second thought about the pathetic, sharp whine he gives at having his orgasm disparagingly denied. Ruined? Whatever the fuck happened that's left his whole fucking body quivering and raw. He was so goddamn close!

So, so fucking close that that's the only thing he can hold onto. And even that, as Bucky pulls him out of the elevator--out out the building through a dizzying revolving door, pushes him onto the back of his motorcycle, heaves his arms around him, and drives them home--slips through his fingers like sand. Steve isn't holding onto anything. His arms are physically around Bucky's stocky waist as they ride, holding on, but he's not emotionally holding on to fucking anything. His brain is dripping out of his ears. Hours of vibration, his thighs clenched together, trying to keep it together. Now, his thighs are split wide around the heaving, breathing, rumbling body of Bucky's bike. It's a fucking animal.

Bucky drives like an animal. Feral and reckless as New York blurs messily past them. And Steve just nuzzles in tight, moaning recklessly and unashamedly into Bucky's ear from over his shoulder.

He's beyond desperate.

The blurred, smeared paint effect of the world around him gets worse when they're off the bike. Closer to home, Steve feels more of that pre-emptive relief surge through him more. He can't put himself back together, first shaken apart in that meeting and then blended up by the motorcycle ride. Too much. Not enough. Steve needs more.

Steve knew he was wet, but he didn't realize just how wet he fucking got until Bucky grabs him and twists him around, hauling him over his shoulder, smacking his ass and keeping a heavy, possessive hand there while he walks Steve's quivering body deeper into their home just to pin him down against their mattress all handsy and strong. Steve can't fucking fight. He just lays there, teeth chattering. He's vibrating so much himself he doesn't know if the bullet vibe is still on or not. He doesn't need it. He just. More. He needs more.

Steve needs more, thrown in through their slammed-open front door and stumbling in, unsteady and breakable as a fawn. Fuck it. He's not breakable, he's already broken. Broken open and spilling molten hot--pouring out his lust.

He's so fucking on edge anything could set him off. Anything will set him off. Just. Please.

Steve can hardly fucking hear Bucky over the blood rushing in his ears, his heart pounding like mad. But he's saying something, asking something with that damn gorgeous Chesire cat grin, all predatory and sharp, "you gonna show me how fucking wet I make you, baby?"

"Wrong answer, honey," his salacious grin widens dangerously the higher he gets off teasing him.

Steve can't think.

He can't hear.

He can't move.

Yet, he must shake his head, trying to clear his mind, figure out what the fuck is happening, what to do, because Bucky responds to him like he's answered. Like he can do anything. As if Bucky hasn't turned him into a useless pile of wet, desperate need.

And while Steve can't move, so overwhelmed with his lust, Bucky has no such issues. He's crawling off the bed where he has Steve fucked up and pinned to grab, grab--

There's no time to really process what the fuck that is, what it's doing to him, and how it feels on him when suddenly, like a switch flipped, Steve's cunt is hot and wet and kept clenched between his tensed thighs then Steve's cunt is cold and drenched and exposed to open air.

Steve's vision is so hazy and blurred he doesn't even know what it is and he doesn't think it matters anyway because Bucky isn't using it, rather he's running his hands fervently all over Steve's quivering body to strip him of his uniform. The distraction doesn't last long, though, as ruined and desperate as Steve is, Bucky is the same. Their desire intrinsically intertwined. Twinned and deepened. Made that much more perilous together. Once he's stripped to nothing but his sweat and blush, Bucky uses that thing he grabbed.

It's a spreader bar. The thing. It's a long bar, reinforced, and forcing Steve's legs wide, wide apart.

Bucky peels Steve's legs apart with a grunt and obscene show of strength, his flesh arm fucking flexing and his metal arm revving--recalibrating in a way that Steve could drool over all fucking day--and makes Steve too fucking aware of how stupidly turned on he is. He's wet. He's swollen. He's raw. He's quivering in phantom vibrations. He's so fucking aware of how exposed he is.

Exposed.

He can't keep his legs together. Bucky is just--

Bucky has him.

Bucky is pawing at his wet pussy like the big bad man he is. Fucking him up like he's the wolf and Steve is innocently lost in the wood. Steve should be afraid of his claws, but he isn't. He really isn't. He wants claws. He wants teeth. He wants.

His pussy is so hot and slick compared to the rest of the air in their bedroom. It's mortifying. Could he be wetter? No. He couldn't get any fucking more turned on without just dying. He might die here. Steve wails and jerks but doesn't get anywhere. He can't. He's spread.

Oh.

Oh, god.

Unceremoniously then, exposed and spread, Bucky shoves his face up there, licking his wet slit hotly, and Steve squeals.

What is he going to do to him? Steve could sob. Steve is sobbing. What isn't he going to do to him? He just wants to cum! Bucky doesn't have to kill him. He can just let him cum! He doesn't have to murder him!! Just let him cum!

Pleeease.

[runby2]

hey!!! check this game out please !!

my partner showed it to me and I literally lost my mind over how cute it is, , it’s called purrgatory, and it’s free, even though in my opinion it should cost money because of how much work was put into it and how lovely it is. but the creator give it to us for FREE,,   .each character is a gif of cute lightly wobbling line art, the story and characters feel so real despite the silly setting, which only adds more to the charm. There’s a variety of realistic and smooth rep for us LGBTQ+ and poc (even though the characters appearing in this world as anthropomorphic animals.) It brings up the importance of life and friendship, regret, and how everything will still be okay even when everything is lost. It’s charming in a way I have been searching for in games for a while now.

and can i say the designs are so endearing and simple despite the characters being so complex? AND theres THREE or so hours of gameplay, thats,,  so much! FOR A FREE GAME. Also they coded in little mini-interactive segments and a 3D model at one point that you will NOT want to miss I promise. This game has not gotten a lot of attention and I genuinely think it deserves more. If you all could reblog this and support the creator on ITCH.IO and Steam, that would be amazing, and you will have a lovely experience you surely will never forget!

> CLICK HERE TO PLAY IT! <3 SHOW THE CREATOR NIV SOME LOVE.

[vintagesimstress]

Roman Palla (Zeussim's Desi Gita Redux)

TSR's latest collection prompted me to finally finish a thing which was sitting in my WIPs' folder for months. I'd been hoping to make some more add-ons for it, but let's face it: I lost my steam halfway through, it's not happening, so the best I can do is to release it as is. Still pretty good, I hope!

As my GBSC playthrough is slowly but steadily approaching the Roman Britain era, I found myself in need for some outfits for my sim ladies. There's a bunch of stuff out there, but rather on the 'what we'd like Romans to have dressed like' side, not necessarily what history tells us about how they really dressed. Tbh I thought it was a hopeless endeavour, but then dear Buzzard directed me towards this amazing post by Zeussim - more specifically, the Desi Gita dress, which with a bit of imagination could work for a Roman palla. So I set off to work and romanised it even further. Big thank you to @buzzardly28 for the tip and to @zeussim for her generous ToU!

The mesh is slightly edited (cutouts on shoulders, adjusted headscarf position to accommodate a wider variety of hairstyles) and recoloured in my Iron Age palette, in two versions: 'silk' (or just any smooth textile, really)* or 'wool' (or anything rather on the coarse side). AND it comes with overlays - for both versions! Which means you can mix and match not only different colours, but different textiles as well. You're a well-off lady who just arrived in Londinum and is now freezing her butt off in the cold northern climate? No worries, put a wool palla over your pretty silk dress! Or you by some miracle managed to get your hands on one piece of silk? Wear it with you wool dress to a party to show off!

Many of the wool swatches, especially in combination with different pale/greenish overlays, work quite well for common folk:

There's also an accessory fibula - pretty and golden (or silver), for the richer ones. Found somewhere on Sketchfab. (That's exactly where I got stuck - I wanted to make a variety of different ones, so that the poorer women would also have something to choose from... Alas).

As always, all packages come in HQ (default) or non-HQ versions (for those of you who want to save some HDD space). Download only one per package!

If there are any other Roman era players out there: hope you enjoy :)

DOWNLOAD (free on Patreon, no ads or EA)

*OK, I feel like I have to add a little note: my quick research revealed that silk was insanely expensive for the majority of the Roman era. Like, 'only for the emperor and fams' level of expensive. Only at the end it became... emmm... 'cheap' enough to be accessible also to the aristocracy. So just pretend it is whatever the heck you want it to be, not necessarily real silk

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 30: A Brand, A Tether

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6.1k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

The marketplace of Abriymoch is a sprawling bazaar carved from the very heart of a volcanic city. Its jagged pathways twist and writhe like molten rivers frozen mid-flow. Gouts of steam hiss from the vents scattered throughout the market, shimmering in the ashen air and leaving a film of sweat across your brow. You stumble, your legs still trembling beneath your weight. Astarion, ever the picture of poise, watches your clumsy movement with disdain.

“Honestly, pet,” he scoffs with a liberal amount of disdain. “If you are trying to garner sympathy from the locals with this pathetic display, you’re going about it all wrong. You look less ‘helpless waif’ and more ‘drunken oaf.’”

You grit your teeth, refusing to rise to the bait. The crowd swirls around you, a sea of exotic traders and infernal beings bartering wares in harsh, guttural tongues.

Astarion pauses at a vendor peddling enchanted garments. The merchant is a stern-looking fire Genasi with skin the colour of burning coals and hair that flickers like a living flame.

“Do you have anything with resistance to cold?” Astarion inquires, his tone polite but distant, like someone humouring a rather dull child.

“Resistance to cold? In a place like Abriymoch?”  The merchant’s laughter is like crackling, dry tinder-catching fire. “Strange request.”

Astarion quirks an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, we all have our peculiarities,” he remarks, glancing at you. “For instance, I travel with a half-dead liability that could use some thawing.”

The merchant doesn’t catch the barb, but you do, and it tightens something bitter in your stomach. Astarion leaves the stall and continues to a nearby weapons stall, where an array of daggers gleam under the angry light of the sky.

The weaponsmith watches Astarion with wary respect as he plucks a dagger from the display, testing the balance, twirling it between his fingers with practiced elegance.

“The balance is off,” he accuses the merchant while balancing the dagger on his finger, where the blade meets the hilt.

The weaponsmith stiffens, his soot-streaked hands twitching as if to snatch the dagger back, but Astarion's casual demeanour and the faint, predatory edge in his smirk keep him rooted in place. "Off? Impossible. My blades are unmatched in all of Abriymoch!"

Astarion tilts his head, the motion serpentine. “Unmatched? How charmingly ambitious. But look here—” He flips the dagger, the blade catching the fiery gleam of the volcanic light, and presses the hilt toward the merchant's chest. “Feel the weight shift. It pulls just enough to ruin a throw. Not much, but enough to cost someone their life if they miscalculated.”

The merchant reluctantly takes the dagger, testing it as Astarion instructed. His scowl deepens, a reluctant recognition in his eyes. “Perhaps, but most wouldn’t notice.”

“I’m not most,” Astarion purrs, folding his arms with infuriating elegance. “I make a point to demand perfection in all things. Now, if you have a blade worthy of someone of my calibre, perhaps we can do business. If not, I’ll take my coin elsewhere.”

The merchant hesitates and then begrudgingly reaches beneath the stall’s counter, pulling out a sheathed blade. Its scabbard is simple and unassuming, but the moment the merchant unsheathes the dagger, a low hum fills the air. The blade gleams unnaturally, the surface etched with infernal runes that flicker faintly as though alive.

“Is this... adequate for your ‘particular talents’?” the merchant asks, his tone edged with irritation.

Astarion takes the dagger delicately, his movements reverent, as if handling an artifact rather than a weapon. He tests it with the same methodical precision. “Now this,” he murmurs, his voice almost too soft to hear over the din of the market, “is more like it.”

He tosses a handful of gold onto the stall, far less than the weapon is likely worth, and the merchant opens his mouth to protest. Before he can utter a word, Astarion's crimson gaze flickers to him, silencing any objection with a look.

“That was dangerous. You didn’t need to humiliate him,” you say quietly, your voice strained but firm.

He glances at you, an eyebrow raised in mock surprise. “Humiliate? I was doing him a service. If anything, he should thank me for pointing out his incompetence.”

There’s no use arguing; he thrives on it, feeding off your frustration. His dismissive, detached tone sets your teeth on edge.

“You don’t have to make everyone feel small, Astarion,” you manage, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He stops abruptly, turning to face you, and the smirk vanishes. His expression is cold and empty, sending shiver through you despite the ambient heat. “What would you have me do? Be kind? Generous? Spare the feelings of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to cheat us if given the chance?”

His leer sharpens, pinning you in place. “This world—my world—does not reward kindness, pet. It eats it alive. You would do well to remember that.”

Astarion straightens, his composure snapping back into place. The smirk returns but feels hollow now, an echo of something long dead. “Now, shall we move along? I believe there’s a merchant selling potions just ahead. Unless, of course, you would like to chastise me further?”

You swallow hard, the sting of his words cutting deeper than you’d like to admit. You trail behind, struggling to keep up, the exhaustion in your limbs making every step feel like wading through molten slag. Your vision swims, the heat, and fatigue conspiring to make the world tilt and warp.

Your muscles feel like melting wax, quivering under the strain of merely standing. Every step you take seems to echo inside your skull, each footfall a sluggish, off-kilter drumbeat.

Astarion glides through the marketplace like a shark through dark waters, all grace and cunning wrapped in a veneer of aristocratic disdain. His pale hand darts out to grab your wrist, his grip firm yet cold, yanking you back when you nearly trip over a mound of smouldering obsidian gravel.

“If you insist on stumbling about like a drunk kobold, I’m going to have to put a leash on you,” he drawls without even sparing you a glance.

You can’t muster the energy to fire back while your head spins, and your legs feel like they've been hollowed out, filled with something weightless and unreliable. Astarion, for all his cruel mockery, never lets you truly fall. His fingers linger too long on your waist, and when you falter near a pack of bickering devils, he hooks an arm around you with a grip that’s almost protective.

There is no way to know if it's genuine concern or some twisted way to ensure his possession—his property—remains unharmed.

“Illyria!”

Your name echoes through the haze of exhaustion. At first, it barely registers—just another sound slipping through your muddled mind, something distant and unreal, like the fading remnants of a dream that refuses to settle into memory. Your thoughts stumble, sluggish, struggling to bridge the gap between the voice and the face it belongs to.

Karlach.

The realization lands with all the grace of an avalanche. Then, like a knife driven straight through your chest, comes the dread. Your breath catches, not that your lungs require it, but the reflex remains—like the ghost of something you used to need.

Karlach. Here. Now. Calling out to you, her voice undeniably real, slicing through the crowd. You feel the bloodless chill seep through your body. If she’s here, if they are here, then everything becomes infinitely more complicated.

More dangerous.

Your muscles lock, heartless chest tightening as you desperately wish to disappear, to blend into this infernal marketplace. But there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and as the dread coils tighter, you know there’s no avoiding the collision that’s about to unfold.

Karlach barrels towards you, a smile that could light up the Hells themselves, breaking across her face. Her hand claps down on your shoulder, and you feel a pang of guilt mixed with relief. It’s like being washed in sunlight you can’t feel—a distant echo of what should be joy but isn’t.

Wyll comes up beside her, his stance refined but alert, one hand resting easily on the pommel of his sword. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he says with a grin that holds more than a hint of worry, his eyes flicking from you to Astarion and back. “What in the Nine Hells are you doing down here?”

Astarion’s reaction is immediate, turning smoothly to face them. His smile spreads, practiced and gleaming, like a snake basking in the warmth of its next meal. “Ah, our delightful companions,” he purrs, and you hate how convincing he sounds. He wraps an arm around your waist, his touch both possessive and delicate, like the petal of a rose lined with thorns. “We are on our honeymoon if you can believe it. Such a romantic locale, don’t you think?”

Karlach’s eyebrows shoot up; her confusion is blatant and genuine. “You’re married? Since when?”

You feel like you’re shrinking under her gaze, your words caught in a tangle somewhere in your throat. It’s too much effort to speak, too much to force a smile and make it look natural. Astarion, of course, has no such trouble. He lets out a silken laugh, pressing a kiss to your temple that makes your insides warp.

“Since not too long ago,” he says, his lips curving in that infuriating, perfect way.

His fingers trace little patterns on your hip—a touch that feels like a brand and a tether, keeping you locked in place.

Wyll’s eyes narrow slightly. “A honeymoon. In Avernus,” he repeats as if tasting the words for poison. “I’m not one to judge unconventional choices, but surely you’ve had your fill of danger?”

“Exactly!” Karlach interjects, folding her arms over her chest, her usual buoyant demeanour dimmed by suspicion. “I mean, come on, there’s more romantic places out there. Waterdeep? The Moonshae Isles? Literally, anywhere that’s not a giant inferno filled with devils?”

Astarion only grins wider, his charm like a net tightening around them, every word carefully spun. “Well, Illyria and I do so love a bit of adventure.”

You force yourself to nod, the movement small and tense. Your silence is stretching on too long, and you can feel Karlach and Wyll trying to read between the lines, searching your face for the real story. Panic claws at you, whispering that they’ll see through it, try to intervene, and then everything will unravel.

Karlach’s hand squeezes your shoulder. “You alright, soldier?” she asks, her deep voice tempered with a gentleness she usually reserves for friends in pain.

The familiarity nearly unravels you, but you muster every scrap of energy left in your drained body. You paint on a smile, one bright enough to rival the lava streams cutting through the landscape, and infuse your voice with a sickly sweetness.

“I’m more than alright. We’re on our honeymoon!” You gesture broadly to the fiery expanse around you as if the hellish panorama could ever be described as a lover’s paradise. “What could be more romantic than the Hells? Endless warmth, scenic infernos… truly the stuff of fairy tales.”

Astarion chuckles, though it never reaches his eyes. “Yes, darling, the stuff of fairy tales, indeed. It’s been an unforgettable trip so far.”

Karlach exchanges a glance with Wyll, her worry far less concealed. "Well, why don’t we celebrate your... unforgettable trip with a drink?”

Her intonation is casual, but the invitation is a thinly veiled attempt to feel out the truth. An interrogation masquerading as a reunion, with your freedom—or lack thereof—dangling in the balance. Panic coils in your gut. This is a game of survival, and one wrong move could end in disaster. If they push too hard, if they try to take you from Astarion, he won’t hesitate to make an example of them.

“Oh, that sounds splendid. We would love to celebrate!” Astarion exclaims, in full performance mode, before you can think of a way to get out of it.

Your knees feel as weak as a sapling in a storm, but you must stay strong. You might be caught in Astarion’s web, but their lives are still salvageable. You’ll have to put on the performance of a lifetime.

Their lives depend on it, even if yours is already forfeit.

The tavern they lead you to is a significant step up from the dingy inn Astarion chose to stay in. Here, the walls are decorated with tapestries and Baatorian green steel beams that look like they’ve stood through centuries. The clientele is far more refined—devils in resplendent armour, tieflings with elaborate jewellery, and the occasional cambion squaring you up to decide if you’re worth the trouble.

Karlach slaps a handful of gold onto the polished bar and orders rounds for everyone, her exuberance filling the room like a bonfire. You can’t help but watch her, a spark of warmth flickering in your chest despite your exhaustion. She seems more at ease than when you last saw her, the embers of her soul burning brightly. Wyll stands at her side, poised as ever, but his smile softens when he catches Karlach laughing.

“So,” you say, leaning forward and propping your chin on your hand, determined to steer the conversation away from the sword of Damocles hanging over your neck. “What’s the story this time? Have you managed to fix Karlach’s heart yet, or did you take a few too many scenic detours?”

Karlach laughs, warm and infectious, her eyes crinkling. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe the things we’ve had to do,” she starts, taking a swig of her drink. “There was this one devil, right? Called himself Zarum the Unyielding. We had to barter with him for an infernal gear needed for my engine, and let me tell you, that bastard has a sense of humour as twisted as a corkscrew. He tried to make me arm wrestle his pet hellhound while fire rained down from above. Not my finest moment.”

You can’t help but grin, picturing Karlach in the thick of that chaos, muscles straining against the weight of a monstrous hound. “Please, tell me you won.”

“Damn right, I did!” She slams her fist on the table, making the mugs jump. “Sent that mangy mutt flying across the room! Of course, Wyll had to play the diplomat afterward because, apparently, smashing a hellhound into a pillar doesn’t exactly warm people up to you.”

Wyll leans in, lips quirking. “Someone has to clean up after her,” he says teasingly. “I managed to talk our way out of Zarum, turning us into charred statues, but only after a harrowing game of infernal chess. He was relentless, but I had a few tricks up my sleeve.” His expression grows momentarily serious. “It’s been... taxing. Every step forward seems to come at a cost, but we’ve made progress. We’ll get there.”

You nod, swallowing back the lump forming in your throat. Despite the weight of the hellish environment, it’s easy to get swept up in their tales and forget the shadow looming over your table. Astarion’s hand finds your knee and your entire body tenses. His touch is deceptively gentle, fingers tracing circles in a mockery of tenderness.

He smiles, the picture of a devoted husband, his crimson eyes warm and full of fake adoration. “My love,” he murmurs, leaning in to nuzzle your temple, “aren’t our friends the most charming of heroes? It’s a shame we don’t have such riveting stories of our own to share, hm?”

You hate how your body betrays you, leaning into his touch because it’s familiar and easier to pretend. For a heartbeat—or the lack of one—you let yourself imagine this is real. That he’s yours and not the cold, calculating monster he’s become.

Karlach’s concern etches lines into her brow. She doesn’t seem to buy your act entirely but hasn’t pressed the issue. Not yet, at least. You sip your drink, willing your trembling hands to still, and nod along as they continue to share their misadventures.

Wyll leans forward, elbows on the table, his posture deceptively relaxed, though his eyes are as sharp as a blade unsheathed. “You know, Astarion, I’ve always been told a good husband keeps his wife’s strength up. Ensures she’s well-fed, happy, not wasting away.” His words slip from his mouth with the elegance of a courtly challenge, smooth but barbed.

The jab lands with precision. You can see how it pierces Astarion’s pride, even if his expression remains nonchalant. He offers a slow smile, polished and perfect as if nothing could ruffle his aristocratic feathers. “Yes, well, culinary delights are dreadfully hard to come by in this charming inferno. We make do, don’t we, my love?” His fingers brush your shoulder, trailing down your arm in a caress that looks adoring but feels as cold as the grave.

Karlach’s eyes narrow. They flick between the two of you like she’s searching for cracks in a beautifully painted vase. Wyll tilts his head, suspicion stamped into his usually warm features, and you feel the suffocating weight of their concern.

As Wyll’s question burrows into your mind, the realization snaps into place. Your fatigue, your stumbling, the fog in your thoughts—it all clicks. Bloodlust. Your hunger, suppressed and strangled by compulsion, has seeped into every corner of your being, leeching your strength away.

You’ve been wilting in slow motion.

A curse slips from your lips, too quiet for anyone but Astarion to hear. He tenses beside you, his hand still tracing lazy patterns along your arm, and you’re suddenly aware of the precarious dance you’re both performing. The thin veneer of civility, the fragile mask of wedded bliss—it’s all dangerously close to shattering.

“Astarion, perhaps you would accompany me to gather the next round?” Wyll suggests. “I’d rather have you there with me to ensure the drinks are properly measured. The barkeep seems to think she knows how to pour, but I’ll be honest—there’s not a chance I’ll trust her judgment when it comes to spirits.”

“As if your taste is any better,” Astarion retorts. “The last time you picked something, I had to spit it out. We are lucky I did not turn into a puddle of regret.”

Wyll chuckles, brushing off the jab. “You wound me, my friend,” he says, but his tone holds an undercurrent of genuine camaraderie. “But seriously, I’m not going to let you keep Illyria locked away in this hellhole without a proper drink.”

There’s a flicker of something cold in Astarion’s gaze, but it vanishes, replaced by his polished demeanour. He stands, smoothing his clothes, the movements exaggeratedly elegant. “Fine, I’ll humour you.” He looks over at you, his gaze too sharp for comfort, as if he’s measuring your every reaction. “Don’t expect me to enjoy this.”

Wyll grins, a knowing, friendly grin that only makes Astarion’s disinterest seem even more feigned. “Oh, I don’t expect much from you at all.”

Karlach watches Astarion and Wyll walk away, the tension visible in the set of her jaw and the furrow of her dark brows. As soon as she’s sure they’re out of earshot, she leans in, dropping to a whisper, rough with worry.

“Hey, are you sure you’re alright? You look like you’ve been dragged backward through the Nine Hells and then asked to do it again, and don’t even try to tell me it’s all rainbows and roses with your vampire beau. I know him.” Her eyes search your face, wide with hope and fear. “If something’s wrong, we can get you out; you know that, right?”

You force a light and dismissive laugh, even as her earnestness threatens to crack the fragile mask you’re wearing. “Karlach, it’s fine,” you insist, waving your hand as if brushing away her worries like cobwebs.

You sip from your drink, savouring the way the alcohol dulls your senses and lets the edges of your reality blur just a bit more.

Karlach isn’t convinced. Her mouth pulls into a grim line, and she glances over her shoulder to where Wyll and Astarion have disappeared. “You’re sure? Because I swear on my hammer if he’s hurting you—” She stops herself. Her hands clench into fists, and she looks ready to fight the entire Hells.

You reach out, touching her arm in what you hope is a reassuring gesture. “I’m okay,” you lie, the words tasting bitter even as you say them. “Promise. Besides, you’ve got your own battles to fight, right? Focus on your heart. Let me handle this.” She’s still not convinced, and you wade through your muddled thoughts to grasp at something to redirect her attention. You lean forward and wiggle your shoulders. “Speaking of things on your plate, you and Wyll seem pretty... close these days.”

Karlach’s crimson cheeks deepen in hue, but it’s nearly impossible to see the blush against her naturally red skin. Still, there’s no mistaking how her eyes dart away or how she fiddles with a loose thread on her armour. “Oi, you cheeky little thing.”

You shrug, the movement loose and playful in your half-drunken state. “What can I say? I live for the drama. Spill it.”

“Alright, alright, but if you breathe a word of this to Wyll, I’ll throw you in the Styx myself, got it?” She gives you a mock-threatening glare, but there’s no heat behind it, only fondness.

You make a show of zipping your lips. It’s an easy way to shift the focus, but more than that, you want to know. You crave a story that doesn’t end in blood and tears, a narrative where hope isn’t a lie. “Locked up tight. Now, out with it!”

She groans, covering her face with one giant hand. “Okay, fine. It’s just—gah, he’s so good, y’know? And not just in that heroic, ‘I’m here to save the day’ way. He’s got this soft side that, ugh, I never thought I’d get to experience.” Her voice drops, a little more vulnerable. “He looks at me like I’m not a monster, like... like I’m someone worth caring about.”

Your chest tightens as her words pull at the threads of your fragile memories. You can almost see it: Astarion’s gaze, soft with adoration, as if you were the only thing that mattered.

It feels distant now, like a reflection from another lifetime.

Try as you might; the images slip through your grasp like sand sifting through your fingers. The warmth you once clung to overshadowed by the weight of indifference. That cold, detached stare has taken its place in your mind, freezing over the fragile remnants of tenderness like frost devouring the last blooms of spring.

You nod mechanically, forcing a wry smile you hope passes for composure. Inside, though, something within you keens, low and mournful, like the call of an animal that knows it’s been abandoned. You want to brush it aside, blame it on exhaustion, the chaotic haze of your current state, but the ache lingers, carving itself into the hollow places you’d rather not examine.

“Has he, you know, made a move?” You press the conversation onward.

“Okay, okay, don’t get your hopes up too much. There’s still this whole ‘heart of infernal iron’ thing, yeah? We’ve had moments. Close ones.” She bites her lip, and for a second, she looks almost bashful. “He held my hand the other night. Just sat there with me, thumb brushing over my knuckles, telling me stories about his dad. He’s so damn gentle. It’s driving me wild.”

You clutch your chest dramatically as if you have a heart that could swoon. “Oh, gods, that’s adorable! The Blade of Frontiers, bringing you to your knees with hand-holding and sweet words.”

Karlach snorts, smacking you lightly on the shoulder. “Shut up, you hopeless romantic. You’re the one who dragged me into this mushy mess.” Her smile softens, though, and she sighs. “It’s just... nice, you know? To feel like someone sees past all the rage and the fire and thinks there’s something good in here.” She taps her chest, where her broken heart lies.

You nod, suppressing the urge to clutch at your own empty cavity. “Yeah,” you murmur, more to yourself than to her. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Enough about my love life. What about you, huh? You and that broody bastard of yours. How’s the ‘honeymoon’ really treating you?” She wiggles her eyebrows, mimicking your earlier playfulness, but there’s an edge to her question.

You force a laugh; the sound a little too high. “Oh, you know us. It’s all passion and drama.”

When Astarion and Wyll return, you snatch up the shots before anyone can say a word, downing them quickly. The moment Astarion's gaze lands on you, you feel the need to perform, to throw on the mask you’ve fashioned from necessity. Your mood shifts like a chameleon in self-defence, all smiles and sparkles, like a mirror reflecting a happier, more foolish version of yourself.

Astarion tuts you with a blend of reprimand and mock concern, lips twisting into an almost-believable smile, the edges too sharp to be truly soft. “Darling, if you keep drinking like that, I will have to carry you back.”

You match his grin with a lopsided one, tilting your head as you lean into his side. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You tease with a pitch of flirtation, every syllable a painted-on lie. “It’d give you an excuse to put those strong arms to use.”

The words taste bitter, but you let them roll off your tongue with ease. He plays along, slipping an arm around your waist. You arch into it, craving more—more closeness, more gentleness, more love. You crave it so desperately that you almost forget this is all a game, a farce to keep Wyll and Karlach from guessing the truth.

“Anything for my beautiful bride,” he purrs in a timbre that’s melted chocolate peppered with razor blades.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple, and it’s so convincing you almost believe it yourself. Karlach watches with suspicion lingering in her eyes, but she forces a smile for your sake. Wyll tries to lighten the mood, but you can’t focus on his words. All you feel is Astarion's touch; all you see is the dance you’re trapped in. You keep pushing for more affection, pressing yourself against him, willing him to pretend just a little longer.

Even if only for a moment, you want the illusion to consume you and drown out the truth.

Astarion obliges because his facade must hold, but you know it’s as fragile as spun sugar, ready to shatter the instant your friends catch a glimpse of the cracks, and good Gods, they are looking.

The room spins, like a carousel teetering off its axis, and the drinks keep flowing. Words blend, barely more than sounds strung together by tenuous coherence, but the performance must go on.

“You must have stories from the Hells. Some daring escapes, I’d imagine, and plenty of danger,” Wyll remarks skeptically.

You laugh a bit too loudly, feeling the strain in your throat as it mimics mirth. “Oh, the danger. Demons and devils at every turn. Barely had time to catch our breath between all the romance and life-or-death scrapes.”

The word romance tumbles out like something bitter wrapped in sweetness. You hiccup, and Astarion squeezes your hip in warning.

Karlach folds her arms, leaning back in her chair with a scrutinizing look that could pierce steel. “Come on, though,” she presses. “It doesn’t make sense. You don’t look like you’ve been getting enough to eat. And those shadows under your eyes... ”

You force a grin, the corners of your lips pulling tight. “Food’s not so easy to come by when you’re constantly running for your life,” you offer, slurring just a fraction too much. You swat Astarion’s chest. “But he takes care of me, doesn’t he?”

You giggle, the sound cracks and lean into him more, hoping the pressure will keep your unravelling self together.

Astarion’s fingers brush along your collarbone, leaving warmth in their wake like hot coals dragged over your skin. “My poor love,” he croons in a perfect blend of affection and concern. “I’d drag the moon down from the sky if it meant you’d have a proper meal, but alas, our resources are... limited.”

Karlach’s expression tightens, suspicion flaring, but she forces her tone to remain light. “Limited, sure, but you’ve always found ways to keep each other safe, right?”

You nearly choke on another sip of ale, but Astarion saves you, his grip tightening. “Indeed,” he says smoothly in a timbre of honeyed poison. “I would never let anything happen to her.” “You know,” Wyll ventures, tilting his head with that princely charm, “if it’s getting a bit too noisy down here, we’ve got a room upstairs. It might be better to catch up in private, where we don’t have to shout over the music and the chaos.”

Karlach’s eyes flick between you and Astarion, and she nods, her heavy hand clinking against her ale mug. “Yeah. It might be good to just... unwind away from all this racket. We could keep things nice and cozy, just the four of us. What do you think?”

The pressure wraps around you like a clamp, your half-drunken haze scattering for a moment of sharp clarity. Alone. No public eyes. Just you, Astarion, and two well-meaning friends who have no idea of the danger they’re inviting.

Your smile wavers, the effort of keeping up your carefree facade corroding. Your tongue feels thick, each word sticking like tar as you stumble for an excuse that could keep this from spiralling out of control.

“Astarion and I have... other plans. Isn’t that right, darling?” Your voice lowers, taking on a coy, suggestive edge. "Something... a little more private.”

Astarion’s crimson gaze gleams, and you can see the moment he seizes the opportunity to torment you. “Oh?” He purrs, leaning in so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck. “Do tell them exactly what you want, little love.”

Your face burns, and not from the alcohol. You swallow, your mind spinning, but your mouth, traitorous and loose from drink, follows his demand without pause. “I want... you,” you stammer, and the mortification crashes over you, but you can’t stop. “Right now. Alone.”

Karlach coughs, shifting uncomfortably, and Wyll hides a grimace behind his hand. You almost feel relief, thinking your performance might have been scandalous enough to dissuade them, but Astarion, ever the master manipulator, sees your hope and twists it into something cruel.

He chuckles, the sound deep and rich, then he pulls back, leaving a cold void where his warmth had pressed against you. “Patience, my darling. You can have me... after our little gathering.” His smile widens, more predatory than affectionate. “We wouldn’t want to deny our friends a chance to reconnect.”

Your stomach drops, dread pooling like lead. You’ve played right into his hands and made a fool of yourself for his amusement. The game isn’t over, and you realize, with a heavy sense of resignation, that Astarion won this round.

You stumble up the stairs, each step a monumental effort, your limbs weakened by a mix of drunkenness and something more sinister. The room spins at odd angles, like a stage poorly set, but Astarion keeps you upright with a firm grip. It's not a comfort, though—more like a leash made of flesh binding you to his side.

The room is a world away from the dingy quarters you and Astarion are stuck with. Real soap sits in a wooden dish by the washbasin, its lavender scent wafting through the air. The bath gleams, free from the murky stain of questionable water, its brass fixtures polished to a golden shine.

Wyll and Karlach sit in chairs and order food from the tavern below—platters of steaming meats, freshly baked bread, and odd fruits. They urge you to eat, gentle but insistent.

“Come on,” Karlach coaxes. “It’ll do you good to get some real food in you. No sense in wasting away.”

You shake your head, refusing. The food, though beautifully prepared, isn’t your kind of sustenance. Astarion, on the other hand, puts on a theatrical display. He picks up a roasted chicken leg and bites into it with almost exaggerated enthusiasm, chewing slowly, eyes closed as if savouring every morsel. It’s a performance, of course. He doesn’t need it, but he does it anyway, wordlessly taunting you.

He’s showing off, reminding you of everything you’ve lost, and the unspoken challenge: Can you keep up your facade as well as he does, or will the cracks finally show? Wyll, ever the noble and well-meaning soul, sits forward. “You know, if food is hard to come by… perhaps I can help. It’s no trouble, really.”

His meaning is clear, his eyes shining with a kindness so genuine it’s almost blinding. He’s offering himself to you, his blood, in an act of compassion you don’t deserve. Your mind flashes back to the horrifying moment you sank your fangs into Shadowheart, driven by the ravenous hunger that makes you more monster than person.

Panic strikes like a lightning bolt, and you leap backward so violently that your chair crashes to the floor with a deafening clatter. Before you know it, you’re at the far end of the room, back pressed against the wall as though you could force yourself to disappear. The room feels smaller, your breath coming in shallow, unnecessary gasps. Even Astarion’s eyes round with surprise.

“No,” you croak.

Wyll stands, hands raised in a calming gesture. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just an offer, nothing more.”

His good intentions should comfort you, but they don’t. The kindness in his eyes burn like holy water.

Karlach looks between you and Wyll, her concern evident. “It’s alright, Illyria. We’re just worried about you, is all. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Before you can respond, Astarion steps forward, a gleam of wicked delight dancing in his crimson eyes. “Actually, darling, that’s not a half-bad idea. Wyll here has such a noble, rich flavour, I imagine. You should indulge.”

You turn to him, horror rising in your chest. He’s serious—deadly serious. He knows exactly what he’s suggesting and knows that once you sink your fangs in, you won’t be able to stop. He’s baiting you, trying to push you over the edge, and there’s a twisted pleasure in his smile.

“Astarion, no,” you breathe, but the words barely leave your lips.

Your body trembles, dread crawling up your spine like a colony of spiders. He inches closer, each step slow and deliberate, as if savouring your fear.

“Oh, come now, love,” he coos. “Think of it as a… bonding experience. You wouldn’t want to refuse such a generous offer, would you?”

Astarion’s hands slide to your waist, fingers pressing in with an iron grip that looks deceptively tender. He pulls you away from the wall as if he’s steadying you, but you feel the force behind it, the quiet menace woven through his touch. You meet his gaze, and all you see is darkness—an abyss where warmth and humanity should be replaced by something cruel, twisted beyond the realm of mercy.

“Please,” you whisper, a plea you barely dare to voice, but he’s relentless, his smile widening.

Compulsion begins to weave through your limbs and the insidious command slides under your skin like a parasite. Feed, it whispers, a wordless insistence from Astarion that overrides your will, bending you to his desire.

Your legs move without your consent, carrying you forward in stilted, jerky steps. Each movement feels like your bones are being puppeteered, and you struggle to regain control. Wyll watches you approach with open trust, his eyes full of that infuriating, radiant kindness.

You glance at Astarion, your eyes wide with desperation, mouth opening to beg, to plead with every ounce of strength you have left, but the words that spill out aren’t yours.

“Thank you, Wyll,” you hear yourself lilt, sweet, and sincere, even though it should be shaking with fear.

You hate how calm you sound and how Astarion’s compulsion makes you sound grateful for the monstrous thing you’re about to do. You want to scream and beg Wyll to run, but the compulsion forces you to press your lips to his neck.

You try. Gods, you try. Your mind thrashes against the invisible chains binding you, but Astarion’s compulsion is absolute. The more you resist, the more the pain sears through you—white-hot, blistering agony that tears at every nerve.

Astarion’s presence looms a cold, unyielding shadow. He’s everywhere—in your thoughts, in the twisting agony, in the way your hand rises to steady Wyll’s shoulder without your consent. Tears sting your eyes, but they’re useless; they can’t stop what’s coming. The compulsion tightens like a noose, cutting off any hope of escape.

There will be no coming back from this.

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things.

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

Well, fuck. How in the Hells is she going to get out of this?

[silver-hwaberry]

TWENTY-THREE: secrets and kisses

Warnings: under clothes touching, talk of mental health, anxiety and a mention of scars (no exact details!), oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering

Word Count: 8.2k

Summary: Jongho sees something he shouldn't, the guys have a secret meeting to talk about Lunas anxiety and Luna spends her final night in LA.

((Banners: @cafekitsune))

Jongho begins to stir as he hears his alarm start to go off. He can feel a warm feeling on his side and opens his eyes to see Luna is curled fully into him. Still sleeping soundly, snores coming from her mouth. It isn’t too loud but they aren’t as soft as they were when she fell asleep the night before. Jongho can’t help but smile as he looks at her.

Never having experienced waking up with someone beside him that is not one of his members, this is new to him but he likes it. He closes his eyes for a moment, relishing the feeling of Luna's warmth against him. Her soft breath tickles his neck and cheek, and her arm across his waist feels like a gentle weight.

He doesn't want to disturb her peaceful slumber, but he knows he cannot stay in bed any longer. The band has a photoshoot scheduled for today, and he is the first on the list for hair and makeup after losing a game of rock, paper, scissors with his bandmates the other night. With great care, he disentangles himself from her embrace, trying not to wake her. Her body stirs slightly as he carefully slips out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom on bare feet. He shuts the door quietly behind him, not wanting to disturb her rest.

The cold, tiled floor startles him awake. He turns on the shower and steps in, feeling the hot water splash over his body before adjusting it to a more comfortable temperature. As steam fills the small bathroom, he leans against the smooth tiles and closes his eyes, taking a brief moment to relax. Two days ago, he couldn't have imagined himself in this situation - sharing a bed with Luna. It's a new experience, but it feels surprisingly comforting and familiar.

After he has washed his hair and body, he turns off the water and steps out, feeling rejuvenated. The mirror is fogged up, but he clears a small spot with his hand to catch a glimpse of himself. There's something different about him today—a lightness in his expression he hadn’t noticed before.

He continues with his morning routine of brushing his teeth, doing his skincare and gets changed before going back into the room. He sees Luna is sitting upright, she hasn’t seen him come in yet as she puts something into her mouth and drinks from a bottle of water. As she sees him walk in she quickly grabs a bottle of pills sitting beside her, stuffing it into the little bag she brought with her. Jongho notices but can see slight panic in her eyes as she moves the bag behind her back.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks as she replaces the cap on the bottle of water

“Not at all! My alarm went off like 5 minutes ago.” she says, shifting her body slightly to hide the bag

“Sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I had to get a shower as I am first on the list for hair and make up today.” he says rubbing a towel over his wet hair. “I lost the game of rock, paper, scissors the other day.” he adds with a small chuckle

“Oh you should have told me!” she says standing up, “I would have got up earlier and left to give you space to get sorted.”

“Absolutely not!” he says moving towards her, his arms instantly wrapping around her waist.

Luna looks up at him, her hands holding onto his upper arms. “I just know today will be busy for you all. I don’t want to get in the way of you getting ready for it.”

“You could never be in the way.” he smiles

“Sorry for falling asleep last night.” she says quietly as he gazes into her eyes

“Don’t apologise, you were clearly tired.” he replies leaning down to kiss her.

Luna melts into the kiss, her hands moving up to his shoulders. She can taste the mint from his toothpaste on his lips and the smell of his shampoo as she inhales deeply. Their moment is interrupted by the sound of Jongho's phone ringing from the nightstand. He gives Luna an apologetic look before answering it as she nods understandingly. After a brief conversation, he ends the call and turns back to Luna.

“Sorry, that was Hajoon.” Jongho explains, “Hair and make up is nearly set up.” he adds

“Okay, I’ll get my stuff to go back to my room then.” she says

“You don’t need to leave right now. Just take your time getting ready. Once I’ve gone you can stay here as long as you want to.” he says. “Plus I have 10 more minutes until I need to go.” he adds with a small smirk

His arms wrap around her waist once more and he steers her towards the bed. She giggles as they fall onto it with Jongho above her. “And what do you propose we do to fill those 10 minutes?” Her arms move around his shoulders, one of her hands playing with the back of his damp hair

He grins, that charming, mischievous grin that never fails to make her heart race. “I have a few ideas,” he teases, his breath warm against her cheek. He leans closer, the weight of him both comforting and exhilarating, as if the world outside has faded away.

Jongho captures Lunas lips in a tender yet passionate kiss. Time seems to stand still as they lose themselves in one another. In the heat of the moment, Luna inhales sharply as Jongho's hand slides under her tshirt. Sensing his hesitation, she takes charge and slips her own hand underneath the collar of his shirt, while wrapping her legs around his waist as a signal for him to keep going. His hand moves further up, holding onto her side until he reaches her bra.

“You can touch me if you want Jjong.” she mumbles against his lips feeling his hesitation once again

Jongho's hand freezes as he processes Luna's words. He pulls back slightly, a mix of desire and uncertainty in his eyes. "Are you sure? I mean, I want to, but..."

Luna can't help but giggle at his adorable nervousness. "Jjong, if I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have my legs wrapped around you like a panda on a bamboo tree."

His laughter is muffled as he snorts and buries his face in her neck. "You're comparing yourself to a panda now?"

"Hey, they're adorable and cuddly," she defends herself, running her fingers through his hair. "I love pandas!"

Jongho lifts his head, a playful glint in his eye. "So does that make me a tree?"

"Mm, a very handsome tree," Luna teases, pulling him closer for another kiss

They both moan softly into the kiss, their bodies responding to each other's touches. Jongho's hand gently cups Luna's breast over her bra, his thumb brushing against the sensitive nipple through the fabric as his lips move down to her neck. She arches into his touch, wanting more. Her other hand slips further under his shirt, tracing patterns on his upper back as she feels his warm skin. The sound of their breathing grows heavier, mirroring the quickening pace of their hearts. The feeling of him grinding his core against her causes her to dip her nails into his skin lightly.

“Fuck, I really wish I hadn’t lost that game the other day.” Jongho mumbles, “I want to stay here longer with you.”

Luna trails her hands down his back, feeling the muscles tense under her touch. "You know, I could get used to this side of you."

He grins against her skin, his lips leaving a trail of heat as he moves back up to capture her mouth in another searing kiss. "I could get used to it too," he murmurs between kisses, his hands exploring the curves of her body with eager fingers.

As things are heating up between them, a loud banging on the door startles them both.

"Yah! Jongho!" Mingi's voice booms through the door.

Jongho groans, dropping his forehead to Luna's shoulder. "Fuck sake, Mingi," he mutters.

Luna can't help but giggle. "Looks like our ten minutes are up, Romeo."

"Hajoon sent me! I will break down this door, if I have to!" Mingi threatens.

"Alright, alright! I'm coming!" Jongho yells back, running a hand through his damp hair.

Luna sits up, adjusting her t-shirt with an amused smirk. "Better not keep him waiting. He sounds serious about that door."

"He couldn't break down a paper bag." Jongho rolls his eyes playfully. “I wish I could stay with you longer, sweetheart.” He leans in for another kiss.

“I guess we got a bit carried away there.” she blushes

“A little but we have somewhere to pick up from next time.” he grins kissing her once more kiss as she pulls him closer. Their tongues tangled in a heated dance, exploring each other's mouths while their bodies pressed against one another.

“Come on Jongho! I am second in line and if you are late it means I will be too!” Mingi shouts knocking the door louder causing him to pull back from her sighing loudly

“Mingi, chill out!” Jongho says going to the door

As he opens it, Mingi's fist is raised, ready to knock again. "Finally! What were you doing in there, writing a novel?"

“None of your business.” Jongho grumbles turning back into the room to pick up his keycard and phone as Mingi follows him in

Mingi's eyes widen as he enters the room and sees Luna sitting on the bed, brushing her hair. He quickly apologises for not knowing she was inside.

“It’s cool.” she smiles at him as Jongho goes back over to her

“You can stay as long as you need to, order yourself room service.” he says quietly, “I’ll see you at the photoshoot right?”

"Absolutely," Luna nods and smiles at him widely

“See you later.” he returns the smile and leans down to kiss her

Mingi watches on, his eyebrows raised at witnessing his youngest member being so affectionate for the first time ever. As Jongho and Luna share a lingering kiss, he clears his throat awkwardly. "Uh, guys? I'm still here, you know."

Jongho breaks away from Luna, shooting Mingi an annoyed look. "Yeah, unfortunately."

Mingi raises his hands in defense. "I'm just the messenger," he says, trying to avoid any blame. "Hajoon will be on your case if you're late."

“Be nice to Mingi,” Luna giggles, her fingers hold onto Jonghos shirt, "He didn't do anything wrong and he has a point. We don't want to annoy Hajoon." She reaches up to cup his cheek, “I’ll see you later though so get your butt down to hair and make up.” she adds as she can see he is having difficulty in leaving.

Jongho rolls his eyes playfully and leans down for one last quick kiss. "I'll see you later, panda girl." he whispers as she giggles lightly

“Is that my new nickname?” she laughs

Jongho nods before finally turning to leave. Mingi puts his hands on Jonghos shoulder playfully steering him towards the door. “Bye princess.” he says towards Luna blowing her a kiss.

“See ya Mingi.” she smiles back at him pretending to catch his kiss and placing it on her cheek causing him to laugh

As the door closes behind them Luna looks around the room as she is left alone in Jonghos hotel room. She runs a hand through her semi-tangled hair.

Suddenly, her phone buzzes on the coffee table, breaking her reverie. She reaches for it, half-expecting to see a message from Jongho, but instead it’s a text from Jieun.

Luna smiles as she puts her phone back on the table. It had been a while since she saw her friends and it would be nice to hang out when she is back in Seoul.

She chuckles to herself, shaking her head fondly as she remembers the nickname "Lobster Lulu." It was given to her in college after she fell asleep on a sunbed and got a bit burnt. The name stuck throughout college and anytime someone mentioned sunburn or sunscreen, "Lobster Lulu" was sure to come up in conversation but it had been a while since anyone called her it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Yunho walks down the corridor towards Hongjoong's room, his footsteps deliberate and purposeful. He was taken aback when Hongjoong requested everyone to gather in his room after a long and tiring day on the photoshoot. When San inquired about the meeting's purpose, the tension in Hongjoong's face did not escape Yunho's notice, especially when he insisted on keeping Luna in the dark.

As he reaches Hongjoong's door, he taps on it lightly, and within moments, Hongjoong swings it open, ushering him inside. The room is already filled with the rest of the group, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern, eager for the reason behind this impromptu gathering.

"Thank you all for coming, I know you must be busy preparing for tomorrows flight," Hongjoong begins, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"What's this about?" Mingi cuts in with a direct question.

“And why couldn’t we tell Luna?” San asks. He feels guilty for keeping this from her especially as she asked him if he wanted to watch another episode of The Sound of Magic. After Hongjoong asking them not to mention the meeting to Luna, he had to lie to her. Telling her that Hongjoong usually calls a band meeting on the final night when they are away. When she asked if it was anything important, the guilt of lying further ate away at him, telling her it was nothing, just a leader talk.

"It involves Luna, and I was unsure how to bring it up to her," Hongjoong confesses, pacing nervously with his hands fidgeting with his shirt. The others notice it and it increases their worry. "We need to address how we'll handle... if Luna experiences another panic attack during tomorrow's flight."

A wave of unease washes over the group as they digest his words.

"I never want to witness that again," Yeosang whispers softly. "The last time was.. awful."

"I felt utterly helpless," Wooyoung chimes in, nodding in solidarity.

Yunho interjects gently, breaking the hush that settled over them. "Luna's wellbeing is crucial - so we must be prepared."

Mingi furrows his brow with a hint of concern in his tone. "Do we know what triggers her panic attacks precisely?"

"She told me that takeoff and landing are particularly triggering for her, she just doesn’t like that part at all." Seonghwa responds. “During the actual flight, she is fine.”

“So she doesn’t have an actual fear of flying then? Just taking off and landing?” Jongho asks, his gaze focused on Seonghwa who nods in reply.

“She has medication right? I saw her taking something during it.” San says

“Yeah, anxiety medication.” Yeosang confirms recalling how she couldn’t open the bottle

“Does Luna take anxiety medication regularly?” Wooyoung asks

“She told me her… erm,” Yeosang hesitates, unsure about disclosing more until the expectant gazes urge him on. “Her therapist prescribed them for whenever things get too much.”

“So it seems like it isn’t something she takes on a daily basis then,” San concludes logically.

Jongho swallows hard, memories of the morning replaying in his mind when he stumbled upon Luna discreetly taking medication. How she hastily concealed the bottle.

“I think she may be struggling with anxiety more than we realise,” he admits quietly.

“What makes you think that?” Yunho asks

Jongho hesitates before confessing, “She slept in my room last night.” He shifts uncomfortably, feeling the weight of their stares. “This morning, I saw her taking some medication, she quickly hid a pill bottle when I walked in from the bathroom. I pretended not to notice as she clearly didn’t want me to see and I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho share knowing looks, understanding the gravity of Jongho’s implication that the medication Luna was taking was likely for her bipolar disorder, not anxiety. They had been aware of her discreet morning routine of taking her medication when she believed no one was watching.

“So she was taking anxiety meds this morning,” San reflects with a furrowed brow, “Did something happen during the photo shoot?”

“I didn’t notice anything unusual,” Wooyoung interjects with a practical tone. “She was quiet like she always is at work but she was busier than usual with a lot of translating between us, the staff and photographer. Could the prospect of all the translating was weighing on her mind?”

“She never gets anxious about translating! We all know how much she loves it and shes been in her element the last few days here in LA.” Mingi adds thoughtfully and they all nod in agreement, “It must be something else. How was she the night before?” he turns to Jongho for insights.

Jongho can feel his cheeks and ears begin to flush. Although nothing happened between the two of them except a lot of kissing. He knew most of them were assuming they’d been intimate last night. “She was fine. We watched a movie, had dinner then she suddenly fell asleep as I was putting the dishes outside the room.”

“She tends to get sleepy after eating so much; that's normal for her,” Yunho reasons

“How did she sleep? Was she tossing or turning a lot? Or restless?” Hongjoong asks

“Actually she barely moved, woke up very briefly when I got into bed after my shower, moved a bit but she fell straight back to sleep again and when I woke up… she was in the same position she went to sleep in.” he answers

“Curled into you?” Seonghwa asks with a slight smile on his face, very familiar with Lunas sleeping habits now as Jongho simply nods, feeling all eyes on him

“What about this morning?” Wooyoung probes further.

“She was still sleeping when I woke up so I had a shower, but she was awake by the time I finished. That’s when I saw her taking her medication, but she seemed okay. In fact, she seemed quite content,” he replies, omitting the details of their passionate encounter before he left for hair and makeup.

“Yeah she did seem to be in good spirits when I came to get you.” Mingi nods, “And when she arrived on the set too.”

At the last minute, Luna and the guys had to take separate cars to the location. Initially, Hongjoong was displeased with the change in plans, but when he saw how stressed Myeonjin was with other issues going wrong, he didn’t push it any further. So Luna went ahead with Hyunsik and some other staff members to do some translating work, leaving no time for anyone to speak to her before the shoot began. When the guys car finally arrived at the location, she was in a good mood, chatting and joking with Hyunsik as the stylists quickly got to work perfecting the guys' outfits. No one spoke to her before or during the shoot, except for in a professional manner.

“There is something else.” Jongho says, capturing the attention of the group once more. “I don’t know if it is something to be concerned with or maybe, was just a passing thing in the moment but at the start of our date.. she seemed uneasy over who knew about us.”

Yunho’s heart quickens as he asks, “What happened?”

"Well," Jongho pauses, gathering his thoughts. "She asked me who knew about us and when I reassured her that it was okay and no one would judge us, she muttered under her breath 'maybe not you guys'." He hesitates again before continuing, "I didn't push for more information, but I think...she might be afraid of being judged by others for being with us."

Yunho exchanges a glance with Yeosang, they were the only two who knew of her feelings. “I thought I had reassured her about that,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his head.

Wooyoung's tone is sharp, cutting through the tension in the room. "You knew she was feeling that way?"

Wooyoung's piercing gaze drills into Yunho, causing him to stumble over his words. He takes a moment to carefully think of his response. "She was afraid that being intimate with more than one of us in the same day would alter our perception of her," Yunho admits

Hongjoong's brow furrows, his expression filled with concern. "She thinks we're judging her?" A pang of guilt hits him, knowing that their actions may have caused Luna to worry.

"No, not at all!" Yunho shakes his head in response. "She was just worried that we might judge her in the future, but she trusts us and promised to come talk to me if those feelings ever resurface."

“I'm starting to get concerned about her. It's worrying if she's keeping her medication a secret,” Mingi chimes in, his voice tinged with concern. Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho exchange glances once again. “You three keep sharing looks - is there something you know that we don't?” he adds, noticing their shared expressions.

Yunho gazes at Mingi, conflicted about keeping secrets from his closest friend. However, he knows that Luna is not prepared for the others to know just yet; this is something she needs to handle in her own time. "It's nothing really," Yunho reassures him. "We're just worried. As the three eldest, we feel a strong sense of responsibility towards her."

Mingi studies Yunho, his gaze perceptive and understanding. He chooses to trust his friend's words, nodding in acceptance, though a flicker of doubt lingers in his mind.

“We must tread carefully,” Yeosang remarks, “we don’t want her to feel ganged up on. Yet, her secrecy with medication worries me.”

San gets straight to the point. "I think we should talk to her about this. It's important for us to address our concerns, but we also need to maintain her trust," he states firmly. “If she knew we were talking about her like this, it might push her away.”

Seonghwa softly agrees, “And that is the last thing we want!”

“Let's focus on getting her ready for tomorrow's flight first,” Hongjoong suggests. “We can address other concerns once we are back in the safety of our home.”

“Yunho helped her last time, maybe we should make sure he sits beside her on the plane?” Wooyoung suggests

“I just helped her breathe, reminding her she was safe. I honestly didn’t do anything any one of us couldn’t do for her.” Yunho replies. “In-flight, she relaxed with Yeosang next to her and with him for landing too.”

“She took her medication an hour before we landed, she was a lot more calmer.” Yeosang says, “Why not ask her who she'd prefer beside her? It lets her choose without feeling controlled.”

“That is a good idea!” Seonghwa agrees as everyone nods. “She already told me that this time she’ll take her medication before the flight too.”

Lunas exact words to Seonghwa were ‘I won't repeat the same mistake and have another embarrassing fucking breakdown in the middle of a flight, so I'll take it no matter how I feel beforehand!’

“Okay, so lets just keep her as relaxed as possible before boarding, ask her who she wants to sit beside beforehand too. Like last time, she’ll board before us and when we arrive, we just make sure she is happy but above all chilled out!” Hongjoong says

"Got it, so Operation: Keep Luna Chill is a go?" Wooyoung jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

San rolls his eyes playfully. "Really? We're giving it a name now?"

"What? It's catchy!" Wooyoung defends, grinning.

Mingi snorts. "Yeah, about as catchy as that time you tried to nickname our dance practice 'Operation: Don't Fuck Up on Stage'."

"At least my names are memorable," Wooyoung huffs, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, memorably bad," Jongho quips, earning a collective snicker from the group.

Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose, fighting back a grin. "Can we please focus?"

"Sorry," Wooyoung mumbles, not looking sorry at all. "But admit it, you love my creative genius."

San leans over, patting Wooyoung's shoulder. "We love you despite it, not because of it."

The entire room erupts into laughter as Wooyoung just looks shocked.

"Ouch," Wooyoung clutches his chest dramatically. "Et tu, San?"

Hongjoong claps his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, enough teasing. Let's wrap this up so we can all get on with our packing."

“So, to sum up, our main goals are to keep Luna calm, let her choose who she sits next to, and ensure she takes her medication beforehand,” Yunho explains.

Hongjoong nods with satisfaction. “It sounds like we have a solid plan now. I'll leave you guys to go back to what you were doing. Speaking of Luna, does anyone know what she's doing tonight?”

"She's packing now," San replies, "I'm going to help her and then we are watching an episode of The Sound of Magic."

"That's good," Yunho smiles, "She won't be alone tonight."

“If she needs any help with packing again, give me a text.” Seonghwa says as the others begin to make their way to the door and they all exchange good nights.

The door clicks shut behind them, leaving Seonghwa, Yunho, and Hongjoong alone in tense silence as they share a weary look before Yunho breaks it with a frustrated sigh.

“What should we do now?” He exclaims, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “They suspect it's anxiety medication she was taking this morning, when it was probably her bipolar medication!”

Hongjoong leans against the wall with his arms crossed. “We promised to help her,” he says gently, reminding them of their commitment.

“I know and I will, but now they're worried about her,” Yunho says, “You both know that they won’t let this lie, especially Wooyoung and San.”

“We have to tell her what Jongho saw and what the others are thinking now.” Seonghwa sighs softly, “But I don’t want to put any pressure on her to do something she isn’t ready for.”

Yunho hesitates, struggling to find the right words. "I think she should disclose her bipolar disorder to them now."

"Yun, she's not ready for that," Seonghwa disagrees, shaking his head.

"But if we assure her that there's nothing to be afraid of..." Yunho suggests.

“She’s fucking terrified!” Seonghwa interjects. His tone and choice of words make both Yunho and Hongjoong turn to look at him. “She’s afraid we’ll think she’s not good enough, worried we’ll tell her to leave! The night I found out she..” his voice falters slightly “she said our relationship couldn’t work with the secrets.”

Hongjoong winces at the thought. “She really believes we’d push her away?”

“You didn’t witness how distraught she was at her parents when her mom let it slip - crying on the bathroom floor, her entire body shaking. Neither of you saw the fear in her face as she told me about her scars, the way she couldn’t even look me in the eyes as she spoke about what happened to her.” Seonghwa answers “She feels like she is living a lie around us, and it's eating her alive. But it's her decision when she decides to open up about this part of herself.”

“I completely understand that but what about the others?” Yunho says, concern etched into his brow. “They’ll feel betrayed if they find out we kept this from them.”

“They'll have to come to terms with it,” Seonghwa responds calmly. “Luna's story belongs to her and she gets to choose when and how she shares it.”

A contemplative silence follows before Hongjoong adds, “When Luna told you, Yunho, it was because she trusts you completely. That's why it was easier for her. She's not ready for everyone else to know yet, and we have to respect that.”

Yunho's shoulders sag slightly as he processes the two elders words. “I know you're right,” he admits. “I am just worried the others will be annoyed at us. We are a team and have always shared everything.”

Seonghwa places a reassuring hand on Yunho's shoulder. "We are still a team, Yunho. What matters most right now is Luna's trust in us. The others will come to understand that in due time, I have no doubt about that."

“You are right.” Yunho nods, “Looking after her is important.”

Hongjoong uncrosses his arms and steps closer to Yunho and Seonghwa. "We’ll be there for her, Yunho. We just need to respect her boundaries and allow her take the lead on when and how she shares her bipolar disorder."

"Let's focus on getting through tomorrow's flight first; then we can discuss with her what Jongho saw and our conversation tonight when we are home and settled." Seonghwa says calmly, despite the tension in the room.

Yunho inhales deeply, bracing himself for the difficult conversation ahead. "I hope she understands how much we care for her and only want what's best for her."

As they stand together in quiet determination, a sense of unity washes over them. They know the road ahead won't be easy, but they are resolved to walk it together, supporting Luna through whatever challenges may come their way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

With a book in her hand, Luna sits alone in her hotel room, eagerly awaiting San's arrival. It's the first night she has spent in her own room since they arrived in LA; the previous nights were spent in Yunhos, Hongjoongs for 2 nights in a row, and Jonghos' rooms respectively.

It had been a very long day on the photoshoot, lots of translations needed but overall Luna was impressed with how the members were communicating with the photographer and his team. She had been so nervous about this trip and now it was nearly over she didn’t know what she was even nervous for. She loved every second of it.

However she missed the guys a lot. Despite being with them every day, it was in a work environment and everything was kept professional. There hadn’t been much time to see them all together after work either as they either had solo schedules or it was late. She couldn't wait to return to the comfort and safety of their apartment

When Luna hears a knock at her hotel door she throws her book to one side, not even bookmarking the page to run to the door. She opens it to see San on the other side causing her to smile widely and let him in. As the door softly shuts, he draws her into a tender kiss, their lips melding together in sweet synchrony. Luna's arms envelop his sturdy frame, drawing him nearer as they lose themselves in each other's embrace, both smile blissfully into the kiss.

“I missed you,” he whispers as their lips part, “and your sweet kisses.” he adds, his hand running through her hair before cupping the back of her head and pecking her lips gently.

It had been days since they were last alone and able to show affection for one another like this. Back at home, San and Luna are very tactile with one another. Whenever they are near one another, they are usually touching each other in some way from a simple arm around a waist, a hand resting on a leg or back. They both longed for these simple yet meaningful connections that they shared.

“Me too!” she says with a contented sigh “How was the group meeting?”

“It was… dull.” San responds as they enter the room, “Hows the packing?” he asks, trying to change the subject.

“All finished!” Luna exclaims proudly, pointing to the neatly packed suitcase in the corner. “It's always easier to pack when you're going home than when you're leaving,” she adds with a small laugh.

"That's true!" San exclaims with a smile. "So, are you ready for the next episode of The Sound of Magic?"

Luna takes a step closer, lightly tracing her fingers along the edge of his waistband. "Actually, I had something else in mind,"

Curious, San asks, "And what might that be?" Luna's hands move to unbuckle his belt.

“I was thinking you deserve a special treat after all your hard work,” she whispers seductively in his ear before playfully nibbling on it.

“Luna!” he says softly wide-eyed as he catches on to what she wants

Luna swiftly guides San to the armchair, gently but firmly pushing him into its soft cushions. She then sinks down to her knees on the floor before him, surprising him with her unexpected move. San's bewildered look quickly turns to curiosity as he watches her intently. Luna grins at his stunned reaction and playfully asks, "Why so speechless?"

San swallows hard, his voice cracking slightly. "I, uh... wasn't expecting this kind of treat."

Luna chuckles softly at his reaction, locking eyes with him as she continues to unzip Sans jeans. "Well, expect the unexpected when you're with me," she quips playfully.

Luna's hand slips into San's underwear, her fingers wrapping around his throbbing shaft. Her touch is a perfect balance of softness and pressure, sending waves of pleasure through San's body. He can't contain a quiet moan as she releases him from the constraints of his boxers.

San's breath catches in his throat as Luna's touch sends tingles down his spine. "I... I'm not complaining though," he says, his voice thick with longing. "Just caught off guard."

He shifts his hips to remove his jeans, seeking more comfort. Luna helps by tossing his clothes aside before moving back in front of him. She keeps her eyes locked on his while she lowers her head. San can't help but gasp as she traces kisses along his shaft up to the tip. A smirk graces Luna's lips as she takes him into her mouth, expertly using her tongue to swirl around his head while her hands move in perfect rhythm, squeezing and stroking him the way she know he likes.

San's head falls back against the chair, a string of profanities escaping his lips as he groans deeply. His hips reflexively buck as she takes him deeper into her mouth, the warmth of her breath and the vibrations of her moans sending shivers down his spine.

Luna pulls away, releasing San with a soft pop. She looks up at him with a playful twinkle in her eye. "How are you liking your little treat?"

"Sunshine, you're going to make me lose my mind," he chuckles deeply.

With her hand still working its magic on San as she moves closer to his face, a mischievous grin spreading across her lips. "That's exactly what I want," She whispers in his ear, her warm breath tickling his skin. "I want you to forget about everything else and just focus on me and this moment."

San's throat constricts as he locks eyes with Luna, who takes him back into her mouth. He can feel himself nearing the edge. "Luna, I'm not going to hold on much longer," he cautions

She bobs her head, her nose brushing against his pubic bone as she takes him fully into her mouth. The warmth of her breath sends shivers down his spine and sets off a chain reaction of panting and moaning. As she focuses on regulating her breathing and relaxing her throat, his fingers become entangled in her long hair as his hips buck involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he groans, “You are taking me deeper than before.”

Luna can sense that San is nearing his peak, with each thrust of his hips and the firm grip on her hair. She meets his gaze, and the intensity of their eye contact pushes him over the edge to his climax.

He cries out her name as he reaches his peak, and she takes it all in as she swallows every drop. She maintains her grip on him, continuing to pleasure him until it's all over. With a gentle pop, she releases him and gazes up at him with a smile. "Was that good?"

Breathless and exhausted, San sinks into his chair with a satisfied grin on his face. "That was...unbelievable," he manages to say, his voice raspy with pleasure.

Luna pulls away from him, resting on her feet as she admires him in front of her. She delicately caresses his thighs with her hands, enjoying the view. As he starts to calm down, she stands up to relieve her now aching knees. San leans forward and brings Luna onto his lap, placing his hand on the side of her neck.

San's smile radiates warmth as he gazes at Luna. She feels a soft blush rise to her cheeks at his words. "You are truly amazing, my little sunshine," he says sincerely.

"Well, I do try my best." Luna responds playfully

San laughs softly and replies, "And you succeed beyond measure." He leans in and their lips meet in a passionate kiss.

His hands slide down her body and firmly grasp her ass. He abruptly stands, causing her to let out a surprised moan that is muffled by their ongoing kiss. She instinctively wraps her legs around his waist as he carries her over to the spacious bed. They continue to kiss intensely as he places her neatly in the centre of the plush mattress, her head sinking into the fluffy pillows.

San kisses her deeply, his hands roaming over her body. His fingers trace her spine, lingering at the small of her back before sliding around to cup her ass cheeks. As they break apart to catch their breath, he swiftly removes her t-shirt and his own, while she helps by sitting up and unhooking her bra before leaning back against the bed. He trails his lips down her neck, planting kisses and playful bites along the way until he reaches her supple breasts. Taking a moment to appreciate the sight before him, he takes one nipple into his mouth and gently sucks on it, causing her to arch her back with pleasure.

“Do you feel good?” he murmurs.

Luna nods, releasing a soft moan as San's mouth travels from one nipple to the other, teasing and tasting them with his tongue. He grasps the waistband of her sweatpants and slowly pulls them down, along with her underwear, revealing her hips before tossing their discarded clothing aside without a care.

The springs of the bed squeak as he settles between her legs. He gently spreads her thighs, asking for permission with a lustful tone. She nods eagerly, her breath catching in her throat. He takes his time, kissing every inch of her inner thigh before finally reaching his desired destination.

San's thumb brushes over her wet folds, his fingers finding her most sensitive spot. Luna moans softly, arching her back as he teases and pleases her. His fingers move skilfully, in a come hither motion that sends shivers down her spine as his mouth connects with her clit.

As San expertly continues to arouse Luna, she tightly grips onto the bed sheets with one hand while the other grasps at his hair. Luna's eyes gently close as San's skilled fingers drive her towards the brink of pleasure. She lets out soft moans, powerless against the intense sensations flooding her body.

She manages to gasp a "yes, yes," as he applies more pressure with his fingers, causing Luna to cry out in pleasure as she finally reaches the edge. "Oh my god, San!" she exclaims as waves of ecstasy wash over her.

San slows his fingers as Luna's body relaxes from its intense pleasure, gently caressing her sensitive folds.

"That was amazing," she says, looking up at him with a content and sleepy smile.

He smiles down at her tenderly."And so are you," he says softly before leaning down to kiss her. “Are you tired?”

She nods slowly, letting out a small yawn. "I'm sorry!" Her expression turns apologetic.

"Don't apologise," he reassures her with a smile. "I only asked because I could see how exhausted you are, and if you wanted to save the next episode of The Sound of Magic for another time."

“Oh, I thought you wanted to carry on.” she replies, her cheeks turning pink

"I wouldn't mind continuing," he grins and kisses her forehead, "but we both had a long day. You're tired and honestly, so am I. We’ve had a good night but now I just want to cuddle and fall asleep with you."

Her smile is gentle, and her eyes hold a glint of warmth as she speaks. "Cuddling sounds like just the thing," she murmurs, almost in a whisper. "I could really use some cuddles after today."

Sans' mind immediately goes to their earlier group conversation about Luna's anxiety, Jongho catching her taking medication, and her reluctance to share about it.

“Did.. did something happen today?” he asks softly

“No.” She snuggles closer to him and confesses, "I've just been feeling distant from everyone lately."

“In what way, sunshine?” he asks, his fingers gently stroking her sweat soaked hair

“Since we arrived in LA, our time together has been solely focused on work,” she explains. “Back in Seoul, we may all have busy schedules during the day and can’t openly show affection, but at least at the end of the day and we are all at home… I can hug each of you without fear of being caught or seen.” He pulls her closer and she continues, “But here, our time together is limited to hotel rooms and there are some of you that I haven’t even seen or spoken to outside of our scheduled events. It makes me feel guilty.”

Sans gently kisses the top of Luna's head, understanding her emotions. "I had no idea it was affecting you this deeply, Luna. I am so sorry."

"Don't apologise, it's not your fault," she replies, gazing into his eyes. "It's just been a bit challenging being away from the comfort and privacy of our home in Seoul. I miss all our little rituals."

San wraps his arms around Luna, holding her tightly as he murmurs sympathetically. He wonders if this is why Jongho saw her taking medication earlier in the day. "I miss our routines too," he says, "I miss finding you in the kitchen every morning with your tea in your Tangled mug, enjoying a bowl of cereal and a plate of strawberries. And coming home to you after a long day, finding that you've cooked dinner for us all, snuggling on the couch together, seeing you make the others just as happy as you make me." He kisses her head and she giggles softly. "Your presence brings so much joy into our lives." He leans down to kiss her tenderly, savouring the feeling of their lips pressed together. Her hand moves from his chest to gently hold the side of his neck as they share this moment, sending little shivers up his spine that only she can cause.

Luna's voice is barely audible as she whispers, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on San's cheek. "Those moments are my favourite too," she says softly. "I didn't fully appreciate them at the time; I didn't realise how much they meant to me."

San's warm smile shows he understands. "Luna, trust me. We'll adjust and find our flow while we're away. It might take a bit of time, but we'll figure out what works for everyone."

"Thank you, San, for being patient and understanding with me. I know I'm asking a lot from everyone." Luna responds gratefully.

“You’re not asking for too much. We’ve all struggled the past few days not seeing you in the safety of our home. So we were always going to have a discussion to come up with a better plan for the next trip away.” he kisses her again, “But for tonight, lets get a shower and go to sleep. We have a long flight ahead of us tomorrow so you need to have a good and peaceful sleep.”

Luna's mischievous smile widens as she chuckles softly. "A shower, huh? Are you implying I smell?"

San's eyes widen. "What? No! You always smell wonderful to me. I just thought... maybe to freshen up and... oh, you're teasing me, aren't you?"

"Maybe," Luna grins, poking his chest playfully. "But seriously, a shower sounds great. My hair probably looks like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards."

San runs his fingers through her untidy hair. "Nah, more like you've been ravished by a stunningly handsome man."

Luna laughs, her melodious voice filling the room. "Handsome, huh? Normally I wouldn't let an ego like that go unchecked, but even I have to admit you are!" She teases, leaning in to give him another kiss.

San chuckles, his hands sliding down to Luna's waist. "Oh, so you're admitting I'm stunningly handsome now? I'll have to mark this day on the calendar."

Luna playfully rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Don't let it go to your head, Choi San. I've seen you with bedhead and morning breath."

"And yet, you still can't resist me," San teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he leans in closer to hover over Luna's now flushed face with his upper body

“Stop it!” she says with a giggle, giving him a playful hit on his shoulder. “So, are we still taking that shower or what? Because I am starting to feel gross and sweaty.”

“In a good way?” he grins back at her

"Wouldn't you like to know," Luna teases, sliding off the bed and stretching languidly as his eyes stay focused on her naked form. She catches San staring and smirks. "Like what you see?"

“When it is you, always!” he responds, getting off the bed and approaching Luna. He wraps his arms around her from behind, placing his chin on her shoulder. Taking in her familiar and soothing scent, he inhales deeply. "I could stand here forever," he whispers, gently kissing her neck.

Luna leans back into his embrace, relishing the feeling of his warm body against hers. "Believe me, I would love that too. But remember, we have a long flight ahead of us tomorrow," she reminds him with a sweet smile.

San chuckles softly, his breath tickling Luna's skin. "You're right about that!" He gives her a gentle kiss on the cheek before letting go of her. "Shall we get cleaned up now?"

They enter the bathroom, and San turns on the warm water, carefully adjusting the temperature to just the right level as Luna looks out towels for them. He then gestures for Luna to go in first, flashing her a charming smile. "After you, my lady."

Luna steps into the shower, savouring the sensation of warm water flowing over her skin. She glances back at San with a mischievous smile. "Don't keep me waiting," she teases.

San wastes no time and joins Luna in the shower. The steamy water envelops them, creating an intimate sanctuary where they can be together in private. Something they’ve both been craving for days.

As they stand under the spray of water, Luna reaches up to run her fingers through San's hair, causing droplets of water to cascade down his chiselled chest. She gazes up at him with a soft expression. "Thank you for always being there for me," she whispers.

San's expression softens as he gently cups her face in his hands. "I will always be here for you, Luna. Through all the ups and downs, and if you need anything, we're all here for you too. No matter what," he promises, sealing his words with a tender kiss.

A twinge of guilt bubbles up in Luna's stomach, the unpleasant kind. She can't help but feel guilty for keeping secrets from Jongho, especially after he saw her taking her bipolar medication this morning. He didn't mention it, trying to be polite and respectful, but it only made her feel even more guilty.

As they finish their shower and dry off with soft, fluffy towels, San pulls Luna into his arms again. "I want you to know that I meant what I said before. No matter what comes our way, I will always be by your side."

Luna senses a growing vulnerability within her as she looks up at San, her eyes with a hint of uncertainty. "I... I know I'm not the easiest person to deal with at times." she confesses, “I can be difficult and over dramatic.”

San's face softens even more. "You aren’t! We all have our battles and difficulties. You don't have to face them alone, Luna. You have us by your side now," he assures her.

"Thank you, San," Luna whispers, her voice barely above a whisper

Luna realised it was time to disclose her bipolar disorder to them, and she made a mental note to discuss it with Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho once they were all back home. But for now, all she wanted was to change into pjs and cuddle up in Sans' arms for some much-needed rest.

Taglist: @kiwibaekie @fudgeflyssworld @kodzukein @khjcoo @pepperony-7 @ateez-babygirl @starillusion13 @truthbehindthereflection @livingdeadlisa @stayteezdreams @atinyapple1117

[maisartcraft-blog]

hopes for valve to figure out a way to fix everything with the bots, from my understanding a rather big piece of the current player base is bot users?. I mean I feel a bit worried if that is being the case it could harm steam at the long run, I mean both taken how there is an tendensy to more steam games there been added there have a rather lagging amount of quality, as well as not having solutions for some of the games there add value to steam like tf2. I only have a steam cause of tf2 cause I buyed the orange box multiple years ago because of tf2 was on it, cause I heard it was a good game, I mean heck the first pc I had could barly run it and was shared (yes I know basicly a toaster can run tf2 with speaks to how bad that pc was) but I still loved the game the game have always been more than just a game to me, it gotten me though some dark times in my life. I love all from the unic world both the game play and the comics, to how people sometimes just stop figthing in the middle of a match to run around joke taunt and being silly, I never expirenced that in any other game I played and I think that one of the reasons its special. I love the colorful personalitys of the mercs. but also over all the silly world they are in. the game is a diamond. I just hope help comes for it. I image mabye valve will end up suing the bot hosts on the bases on lost revenue than the game makes for them via in game sales. after all whats the value of items in a game if people cant play the games cause of bots kicking real players out ... beond playing war game dress up dolls with the chareckters in the load outs. I choose to draw the tf2 chareckters as chibis as I did that many years ago then I started playing and the first time I drew them all togther on a paper was as chibis. partly cause a A4 paper well ... its not aloth of space for 9 chareckters, ofcourse I dont have thouse limitations with digital now. but it feeld right. also wanted to pay respect for the comic medium as well its why I choose the speach bubbles, and still find it funny then scout use to have crazy legs movements. hope all have a good day and all the best hopes for the future.