#i think the fact that there Was one already points to a slight sense of unawareness to what fine's writing is usually like

[yume-fanfare]

tho i do get why there were complaints because "i can't fix him" is a quite charged thing to say, and it feels like an oversight on the writer's part. but the main purpose of that was to point out that instead tori Can do it so i think it's an offense that can be overlooked

[incognit0slut]

Angel

PART 5 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Single Dad!Spencer x Nanny!Reader Spencer likes having you around to look after his daughter, in fact, he likes you a bit too much.

content: (18+) 5.4k, breeding kink, fingering, fem oral, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, d/s dynamic but he still tries to be a gentleman although reader doesn’t want him to, mutual pining, body worship with slight religious metaphors bc he’s down so bad, and of course sweet aftercare a/n: 1) i know the gif isn’t spencer but i just had to; 2) i changed the title from the original plan bc i was listening to angel baby while writing this; 3) if i have the chance to describe his happy trail and tummy i will in a heartbeat; 4) this fic is basically the epitome of D-I-L-F!

“I want you to understand,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear, “that I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

A hand creeps up the back of his neck. “What if I want you to?”

“I’m serious.”

“I am serious. I’m not the one hesitating.”

His hand glides slowly up your side, fingertips barely ghosting over your skin, and a soft, shaky breath escapes his lips. “I’m trying to be responsible."

“I think we’re past being responsible,” you counter as his fingers trace your waist. “What are you so worried about, anyway? You’re not forcing me into anything.”

“I want to make sure you don’t feel like—” his fingers twitch, lingering over your bare skin, “—like I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

“I’m literally naked under you,” you remind him. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he exhales. “You’re making this really hard, you know that?”

“That’s kind of the point.”

And it’s true, Spencer realizes with a rush of heat, because he’s incredibly hard, the heavy length of his cock pressed against your stomach while he braces his weight above you. His lungs tighten, squeezing around breaths that feel too thick to swallow as his teeth graze his lower lip. It takes everything in him to keep from losing himself when his mind is already slipping.

How could he have ever imagined it would go this far?

Spencer can’t quite make sense of how this quiet, unassuming crush that crept in the first time he saw you with his daughter has led to this. It wasn’t anything grand or sudden, just this slow bloom that unfurled every time he caught you reading to Violet or laughing with her over some little joke in the living room. There was just something about the way you slipped so easily into his life, fitting into the spaces he hadn’t realized were empty until you filled them.

He’d never let himself imagine it would go beyond that. He’d convinced himself those feelings for you were just something he’d have to live with quietly, a small ache that would fade with time. But somehow, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden, you’d found your way to him. And against all his expectations, you liked him back. You like him enough that you’re now wearing nothing but a smile.

Flushed skin kissed by the moonlight spilling through the window.

Innocent eyes touched with a hint temptation.

It all feels like some sort of surreal dream.

The moment that led to this replays in his mind, clear as daylight even if it happened well past midnight. He’d gotten home somewhere between too late and way too late, running on nothing but caffeine and sugar, and there you were, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You started talking about your day with Violet, recounting how you’d taken her to the park, read her favorite book before bed, and how she’d peppered you with endless questions about why the sky changes colors when the day changes into night. But something was different in your voice, a softness to the way you said his name, and your gaze lingered on him just a beat longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing he could point to and say that’s it, but he felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.

Before he knew it, he had crossed the room and kissed you. He should’ve thought it through or paused to consider the consequences, but the way you responded made it clear you’d been waiting just as long for his attention.

His shoulders fall with a quiet exhale.

“This could get complicated,” he continues, as if reminding you (and maybe himself) that there’s a line between employee and employer that he’s about to cross. A line that could change everything between you both once it’s blurred. “We should think about what this means.”

“We’ve had plenty of time to think. If you wanted to stop, you would’ve done it already.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Then please enlighten me.”

Instead of answering right away, he leans in, his lips finding the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, and then he’s gently pulling the tender flesh between his lips that draws a sudden moan from your throat. The sound seems to fuel him, and before you can even register what’s happening, his fingers are already slipping lower, exploring the soft space between your thighs.

“What if I want more than this?” His fingers inch closer, teasingly brushing against your heat with a slowness that borders on torment. “What if I want everything?”

Your hips buck against his hand. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Not just tonight.”

The words send a ripple of electricity that blooms deep in your core. When his fingers finally slip between your folds, a sharp gasp escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

“You… you mean you want… more than this? More than just us… here?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice catching like gravel in his throat as his fingers trace over the slickness he’s found. “Does that scare you?”

For a moment, words fail you. The slow, coaxing rhythm of his fingers pulls you deeper into a haze where coherent thoughts are hard to grasp. There’s a pause, a heartbeat where he stops. Waiting.

“No,” you confess, the truth slipping out more easily than you expected. “It doesn’t.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “It doesn’t?”

Your lungs expand, filling with a rush of oxygen and a nervous flutter that lands somewhere in the pit of your stomach. “I think this is the right time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

Spencer stays motionless for a beat. Then something shifts—his gaze softens, and a small, almost incredulous smile curves his lips. “You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

“As in… you have feelings for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re not just… turned on right now?”

“Well, that too,” you admit with a grin, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “But it’s more than that. I really like you.”

His smile widens, and his fingers begin to move again, circling your clit with just the right pressure to pull a sharp intake of breath from you. It’s as though your confession is a final green light he’d been waiting for. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your teeth catch your lip, struggling to hold back fragments of breath. “I thought it was obvious,” you manage between heavy exhales. “Why do you think I always stay late?"

"To avoid traffic?"

You huff. "I tried to be around you as much as possible, Spencer."

His fingers toy at the edge of your entrance, tracing the slick, warm wetness that clings to his skin as a quiet hum rumbles in his chest. “You know I’m not always the best at picking up social cues.”

“You’re a profiler.” Your breath catches halfway between a gasp and a sigh when he slides a finger in. “You're supposed to notice everything."

He lets your words settle, eyes narrowing slightly as he turns them over in his mind.

“I guess I was too focused on trying not to cross any lines to see the ones you were trying to draw."

A soft moan escapes your lips as another finger slides in.

“I'm… glad you finally caught on."

"I'm catching on now.”

His eyes drop to the way your body greedily takes his fingers. The sight alone sends a rush of heat straight to his gut like a line of fire winding up through his chest and spreading into his limbs. You’re dripping, the slick sound of your arousal nearly derails him as he continues to watch the wetness coat his fingers with every slow thrust.

“Since when have you had this crush?” He asks curiously.

There’s a beat of silence, only punctuated by the soft, breathy noises escaping you. When he finally looks up, he catches the way your face scrunches in pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes barely open, and he can’t help but find it almost unbearably adorable. The corners of his lips twitch with a quiet laugh before he leans in, pressing the softest it’s okay, you can tell me kiss against your lips.

“Since when?”

You blink your eyes open at his question, and there’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Since—” you start, but your voice catches when he curls his fingers slightly, and you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a barely-contained grin.

“Since?” he prompts again.

You swallow the lump tightening in your throat. “Since you interviewed me for the job."

He absorbs your words. "That’s… more than a while."

"It was innocent at the time," you confess, trying to regain some control over your thoughts. "Just a silly little crush."

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, and whatever sense of composure you had left is slipping away piece by piece. “What changed?”

Desperation claws at you with every passing second, your hips moving against his hand as you scramble to gather your thoughts. But the way his fingers are mapping every sensitive spot makes it nearly impossible to articulate anything coherent. He doesn’t miss the way your breath stutters, or how your words break apart into fragmented attempts to answer.

“I-I—” you stammer, wincing as the words catch in your throat before you finally manage to continue, “I probably shouldn’t say…”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing."

He lets out a soft laugh. “Tell me anyway,” he urges. “I want to hear it.”

You fall quiet again, and the only sounds that fill the space between you is the ragged pull of your breaths and the slick rhythm of his fingers pumping lazily inside you. The words sit heavy on your tongue, threatening to disappear if you don’t say them quickly enough.

"Remember when… you taught Violet how to… ride her bike?”

He tilts his head slightly. There’s a furrow in his brow as he searches your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, there were a lot of lessons.”

“The very first time.”

“Ah,” he muses. “Around June, then.”

You nod. “When I… saw you with her that day, I-I… I got curious.”

His fingers falter, just slightly, the subtle pause enough to show that you’ve grabbed his attention. “Curious?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You were so adorable with her… and I started thinking about what it would be like… to have your kids.”

If there was ever a moment to leave him utterly speechless, this was it. His brain seems to stall, the gears grinding to a halt as the reality of what you’ve said settles in. He’s spent so much time trying to be the one holding it all together, but now? Now all he could picture was you holding a baby—his baby—and the thought sent his mind reeling, knocking him off balance in a way he didn’t expect.

“You… thought about that?”

Your fingers trails his shoulder before slipping up into his hair, curling gently at the nape of his neck. “It crossed my mind more than once.”

“That’s—” wow. He leans his forehead against yours. “Not embarrassing. At all.”

“Really?”

“That’s probably the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.”

You let out a soft chuckle, gently pulling on his curls before drawing his bottom lip into a gentle suck. “It’s never been innocent since then.”

Goosebumps rises along his skin, and the heat pooling low in his stomach tightens as he grows impossibly harder. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time.”

His jaw clenches.

He’s so close to completely losing it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.

“Why.. why not?”

“Because I might give you exactly what you want.” When he feels you clench around him, he huffs in amusement. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

There’s a tender spot he finds deep inside, one that feels achingly sensitive, and your mouth falls open, a soundless gasp escaping before you can catch it.

“You really mean it,” he says, more a realization than a question, as he watches your body go pliant beneath his touch.

“I do,” you manage to say.

“You want me that way?”

You nod frantically. “Want your cum in me.”

The second those words leave your lips, his groan rumbles through his chest, and you swallow it down as his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a chaotic rhythm that’s both desperate and needy. When he finally pulls away, you’re left panting, your lips swollen, his forehead resting against yours.

“Never would’ve guessed you had such a dirty mouth."

"There's a lot of thing you don't know about me."

His breath brushes against your lips as he whispers, “I’m starting to figure that out.”

When he slowly withdraws his fingers, you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your throat. Your eyes follow his every move as he sits up and settles between your thighs. You’ve always thought Spencer was an attractive man, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t admired the way his shirts fit just snug enough to hint at what was underneath. But seeing him naked like this? That was a whole new level of breathtaking.

Your gaze trails down his frame, landing on the soft curve of his stomach, something you'd secretly adored every time it pressed against his dress shirts. It was even more captivating without anything hiding it now, especially with the trail of dark hair leading down. Soft, scattered strands, drawing your eyes right to the place where you can’t help but stare.

He gives himself a slow pump. Once. Twice. And then, finally, you feel the firm pressure of his tip pressing between your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asks, the head of his cock sliding over your sensitive skin. “There's a condom in my drawer."

Your body tenses at the thought of him pulling back, and without thinking, your hand reaches between the two of you, wrapping around his cock before he can pull away. “When was the last time you got tested?”

He exhales sharply. “A few months ago,” he mutters, hips twitching against your grip despite himself. “If there was any risk, I wouldn’t even consider this without telling you.”

“I got tested last month,” you assure him quickly. “We’re both safe.”

He nods absentmindedly. “We can… still grab the condom if you want…”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, gently brushing the bead of precum that had formed at his tip. “I thought I made it clear I want you to cum inside me.”

He can only stare as your delicate finger trails along the thick vein. It feels like all the oxygen he’s desperately clinging to has been sucked from his lungs.

“I know you said you don’t want to take advantage of me…” you continue, guiding him right to your entrance. “But I really want you to.”

He finally lets out a low, gruff sound, something between a growl and a sigh as he slowly pushes himself in. His eyes are locked on the sight of your walls stretching to accommodate his size, watching as your body struggles to take him.

"You should stop talking like that," he rasps through gritted teeth. "I’m barely holding it together."

"Here's another thing you should know about me.”

He ruts gently into you. A push. A pull.

A heartbeat in between.

“I really like it rough."

That’s all it takes.

He slams his hips into yours.

Intense doesn’t even begin to describe what he feels. It’s more like a surge, a rush of heat and desperation that floods every inch of him the same time you cry out. His throat tightens, constricting around breaths he can’t seem to catch as he resorts to inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Jesus… you feel so—” His words falter, his voice rough and breathless as his fingers figs into your skin. His chest rises and falls with each labored breaths, and his eyes squeezes shut for a moment.

Tight. Warm. Wet. That’s exactly how you feel.

"Perfect." His large hands grips your waist. “You’re perfect.”

You mewl at his words, the sound spilling from your lips before you can stop it, and the soft, needy noise is enough to make his eyes flicker open. He begins to pull back, just enough to make you whimper from the sudden loss of contact, but before you can catch your breath, he snaps his hips forward with a rough, powerful thrust.

Your hands fly to his arms, holding onto him tightly. "Spencer… Please…”

He lets out a sigh.

No man is immune to that tone of desperation, least of all Spencer. Not when you’re offering yourself to him like something out of a dream. Not when your eyes lock onto his with a look that belongs more to an angel—if angels could be so helpless and desperate. Because what angel pleads with every breath for more?

What angel cries out as he holds your hips firmly in place and thrusts with a force that drives you to the brink of sanity?

He’s mesmerized. His eyes track the way your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips. There’s something almost greedy in the way his gaze roams over you, but it’s when he locks onto where your bodies meet that he really loses himself. A glossy ring coats his cock each time he pulls out, and when he pushes back in, the friction between your bodies creates a lewd, wet sound that fills the room.

He laughs. Not out of mockery, but out of sheer delight.

You’re an angel wrapped in sin.

“I can’t—oh god, right there—” Your nails leave little crescents moon on his skin. “You’re so… so deep.”

You’re really testing his limits, and Spencer knows he’s very far from a violent man, but right now, the temptation to cover your mouth with his hand is becoming dangerously real. Although with the way you’re writhing beneath him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, he’s sure you’d probably enjoy it.

“Spencer…”

His balls slaps your ass as he slams into you.

“O-Oh—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He squeezes your waist tightly. “Already?”

“Ngh.”

Your grip loosens on his arm, and before he can fully process what’s happening, your fingers dance along your clit. It takes all his willpower not to spill into you right then and there when he feels you tighten around him in response. But he holds on, because he needs you to cum first. He needs to feel your velvety walls flutter along the rigid veins of his cock, needs to watch the way your body tenses with pleasure.

He needs to feel it more than once.

He lets you have your first orgasm. Although letting seems like the wrong word. There’s nothing passive about it. He’s making you cum, driving you to it with each calculated thrust. You’re toying with your clit, rubbing in frantic circles just like you do whenever you touch yourself with the thought of him, but this time, it’s even more intense. This time, he’s inside you. And this time, it takes only a few moments for the tension to snap.

You clamp down on him. Hard. So hard that his movement falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm. Just as you start to catch your breath, he pulls out, and you’re left in that delicious, dizzy haze, but your mind is even more disoriented when his face suddenly lowers between your thighs.

“Oh, you’re gonna—” you moan as his shoulders nudge your legs apart, opening you wider for him. “Spencer, you don’t have to—”

Before you can finish, before you even take another breath, the tip of his tongue flicks out.

“I want to.”

And he means it. He dives in with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt. His tongue starts firm and flat, pressing against you before dragging slowly upward, gathering your slickness in one deliberate sweep. Then he changes rhythm, the broad strokes shifting into something more focused, alternating between gentle flicks and deep, hungry pulls, and it’s doing things to you that no amount of late-night fantasies could have prepared you for.

Your head is all over the place that you reach out blindly, trying to find something solid, but the air merely glides over your skin. You stretch for the edge of the bed, fingertips just skimming the surface before your arms flail helplessly in the empty space. He notices your struggle almost immediately, and without missing a beat, he pulls back, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Here,” he says, reaching out his arms toward you. “Give me your hands.”

Gladly. The second your fingers lock with his, a sense of grounding floods you, though it does nothing to ease the intensity of what he’s doing. If anything, it sharpens. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flex under your thighs as he positions himself. And sure, your legs somehow feel weightless, like they’re floating in the air, but the rest of you?

You’re a mess of nerve endings on fire.

It’s impossible to think clearly when every cell in your body is buzzing. Your thoughts scatter the second his mouth moves in that devastating way, driving you out of your mind. You try to hold on to some semblance of control, but who are you kidding? He has officially turned you into a puddle of desperate, needy nerves, and you don’t even care.

It doesn’t take long before that coil snaps, and when it does, your entire body trembles. It’s always the second orgasm. The first is a tease, a little warm-up. The second one is the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. It doesn’t just tug at your edges, it tears right through, leaving you gasping and shaking and completely undone like every part of you has been pulled apart and put back together very wrong.

His mouth is glazed with your slick when he finally pulls away. “Good?”

You can barely feel your legs.

“Speechless,” is your answer.

His nose twitches in amusement as his hand leaves yours only for them to slide down your body, gently coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist. “Continue?”

“Please.”

A palm slips down your thigh. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip as he hovers above you. “About what?”

“About taking advantage of you.”

You huff out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Say it again,” he urges, guiding his cock smoothly along your folds before your whines travel into his ears. Ah, there it is. This is the sound that would greet him in heaven, if such a place existed for someone like him. Men who’ve taken lives to save others. Men who carry too many regrets to count. Spencer knows he’s not the kind of person heaven was built for, but if it were, he’s certain it would sound exactly like the breathy moan that escapes your lips.

And he’s tasted the afterlife, once, when he was younger—drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion with a ghost of a needle stuck in his arm. But nothing about that brush with death was like this. This feels like he’s been pulled back into something he didn’t believe he deserved.

“Say it again.”

He’s pleading now. It sounds awfully like a prayer.

“I want you to take advantage of me,” you say, the words spilling from your lips like a soft, sinful confession, music to his ears. An angel. “I want all of it.”

He takes your hands again. “So you won’t be mad if I get a little rough?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

That’s all he needs. He gently pushes your hands above your head, pinning them to the mattress, his fingers lacing through yours as his weight presses you into the bed. There’s a sudden rush—like a switch has flipped that it knocks the breath out of you. Your heart skips a beat, but not from nerves. No, this is anticipation, excitement.

You test his hold on you, just to see what happens, but his grip stays firm, almost daring you to resist.

“You asked for this,” he warns as he shifts his hips, aligning himself right to your entrance.

You shake your head. “I begged for this.”

He laughs, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Yeah,” he breathes, his grip tightening as he presses deeper, “you did.”

A breathless whine escapes your lips as he fills you.

Angel, angel, angel.

He looks at you with a kind of reverence that borders on worship, though his movements are anything but saintly. There’s nothing gentle or innocent about the way he’s taking you, and there’s a quiet madness in the way you respond. Making love would be too tame, too soft for what this is. But fucking seems too crude, too disconnected for the way your eyes meet his, for the way you say his name like a prayer and a demand all at once.

The moment your voice breaks, breathless and needy, something inside him snaps. He feels the tightness coiling in his gut, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it. The pressure is mounting, and with every hard thrust it becomes harder to hold back. He knows he should slow down, give you a moment to catch your breath, but he can’t—his body won’t let him.

His fingers tighten around yours. He’s moving with a single-minded intensity now, pushing you flat against the mattress, your body pliant beneath him. The bed creaks every time he moves and your legs wrap tighter around his hips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Spencer leans down, brushing his lips against yours, so close but never quite closing the distance, like even the simplest kiss would shatter him too soon. Instead, he rests his forehead on top of yours and whispers, “l’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, like he’s stuck on some endless loop. It’s not a real apology, not for anything he’s done, but for how much he needs you and how he’s afraid of breaking you with how much he can’t hold back.

He’s so close and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m—” He groans as he feels the tension in his body snap, the wave building up in his spine and crashing down with brutal intensity. “I—fuck—I can’t hold it—”

You’re barely coherent yourself, but your voice comes out strong. A little breathless.

“Inside,” you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. “I want it inside.”

Your words push him over the edge. He shudders, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can the moment the last thread of his restraint snaps. He can feel it, the way he pulses inside you, filling you completely. Every thrust is accompanied by a harsh groan as his release paints your walls, and the sound of your soft, desperate whines only pushes him deeper into the overwhelming pleasure.

When it finally becomes too much, he carefully pulls out. But the intensity is still coursing through his veins, and he’s too addicted to the sound of your sound, too drawn to the way your body trembles beneath him.

His hand drifts from your wrist almost on instinct, tracing its way down between your legs. He doesn’t need to see the mess he’s made—he can feel it. There’s a fleeting moment where he pauses, almost in awe, before his fingers brush over your clit, and your hips jerk in response. He’s not even sure if he’s teasing you or himself at this point, but he’s too far gone to care.

He slides two fingers inside you.

Your back arches instantly, your nipples brushing against his chest, and you gasp, fully aware of what he’s trying to do. “Oh… I—I can’t…”

He shakes his head. “You can,” he reassures you, watching in fascination as he pushes the white liquid of his release deeper into you. His gaze snaps back to yours. “I think you can give me one more.”

Your body trembles, and you can’t hold back the soft, broken cry that escapes your lips.

“Spencer…”

He loosens his grip on your hand, guiding it gently to rest around his neck. “Please,” he begs, his lips brushing your skin, “for me?”

The way he says it makes it impossible for you to deny him. And he knows it. He feels it in the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the tension inside you builds again. His fingers work faster, more desperate now, curling inside you just the way you like.

He’s watching, waiting, and when you finally cum again, it’s like witnessing something so divine. Your body shakes beneath him, a violent, beautiful quake that feels like it’s pulling him into its orbit. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your head tilts back, lips parting with a choked moan that’s as delicate as it is devastating like an angel’s breath caught on the edge of rapture.

If angels looked this breathtaking in heaven, no wonder people were willing to risk damnation.

Spencer smiles wryly to himself.

Since when did he become so religious?

Another strangled moan escapes your lips. When your orgasm finally subsides, your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and with what little strength you have left, you reach up and yank weakly at his mop of brown curls.

“…no more.”

He smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No more,” he agrees, pulling his fingers from you carefully.

Without saying a word, he slips off the bed and disappears from the room, only to come back with a damp towel in his hand. You expect him to hand it over to you, but you’re surprised when he kneels at the edge of the bed, gently spreading your legs apart.

Your skin tingles under his gaze as he stares at the mess between your thighs.

“That was…” he starts as he begins to wipe the towel over you. “…very reckless of us.”

With a small, tired smile, you mutter, “You don’t seem too bothered by it.”

He glances up at you. “I’m not,” he admits, finishing his cleanup and setting the towel aside. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least pretend to be responsible.”

You reach for him as he climbs back into bed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m on birth control?”

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his body visibly relaxing as he lets out a quiet laugh. “It definitely helps,” he says, tucking you under his chin, “but I’m still going to try to be more careful next time.”

Your grin is as wide as the warmth spreading through your chest. “Next time?”

He smiles softly. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Which part? You said a lot of things.”

“You know what I mean,” he insists.

“I know. But I want to hear it again.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours. “I want everything.”

“Everything?”

“Every single part of you.”

You take a deep breath. A whiff of his sweat and the faintest trace of soap clings around your senses until you release a happy sigh. “Do you think Violet will be okay with this? With us?”

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head to look at you. “She already loves you,” he reassures you. “She’s more adaptable than you think. And she trusts you.”

“But... what if it changes things for her?”

“It will change things,” he admits. “But all the changes will be good ones."

You mull over his words. “You think so?”

“I know so, because you make her happy. You make both of us happy, an—”

He stops, his lips just barely parted as he catches himself.

He almost said it. He almost called you angel.

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly, a faint embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m just really happy,” he explains, his fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. There’s a curious look in your eyes, but instead of pressing him, you bury yourself into his neck, which he’s quietly grateful for because he’s not sure he could have explained himself without sounding like a total sap.

And maybe he is a sap, but even he’s aware that words like that shouldn’t be thrown around too soon, especially after just one night. Not before things settle in, before everything feels a little less like a dream and more like reality.

But he thinks about it. Oh, he thinks about it. The word stubbornly lingers at the edge of his mind he’s keeping for another time. He imagines letting it slip on some quiet morning, when you’re half-asleep and bundled in his shirt, golden sunlight filtering through the window to cast a warm glow across your skin. Or maybe when you meet him at the door after a long day, and Violet runs up, chattering away while you smile at him with that look that feels like coming home.

He can picture it falling easily from his lips someday, maybe even in a future where you’re holding the baby you had wondered about having with him and he’s standing there, watching you like someone who can’t quite believe his luck.

He’ll say it with a kind of certainty then. Not as a prayer, not as some lofty declaration of divine grace.

And when that moment comes, without hesitation, he’ll finally call you his angel.

[wlfchnlv3r]

Life is so good

mute best friend! Hyunjin x best friend! female reader

Synopsis: You and hyunjin, your mute best friend, were on vacation with other friends, what could change your relationship?

Word count: 2k

Warnings: fluff, smut, 🔞🔞!!!, best friends to lovers, foreplay! Enjoy

Note: I’m back, work literally killed me but I’m here and I wish you all a merry Christmas guys!

It’s already 3 am and you are scrolling through your phone in your room, It was peaceful, your own little bubble of isolation. You barely notice the shadow that crossed in front of the window until Hyunjin hopped through, landing in the room with

his usual quiet grace.

You aren’t surprise of his visit and just signs with your hand “no sleep?”.

Hyunjin caught your question for a moment before ignoring it and signing with his hands “What are you doing?” he sits on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.

“Just scrolling some post on Instagram” you say lifting the bed sheets for him to come near you.

Your friend crawls into the bed next to you. The two of you move on autopilot, shifting closer to one another. He lifts his arm, and you don’t hesitate to snuggle up against him, your head resting against his chest. He pulls the covers over both of you, his other arm wrapping around your waist and holding you tight.

“You seem tired…” your voice is low.

He reaches up to run his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle, yet there’s a slight tension in the way he move, he lets out a soft exhale and signs, “Can’t sleep….”; After a few moments of silent he continues to move his hands “how was your date with that short guy…?”

You choked a laugh and whisper in his ear “boring- we watched some football and then i invented an excuse to return here” you admitted with a soft smile.

Hyunjin watches your lips as you speak, his eyes tracing over the movement of your mouth. The word “boring” seems to placate him a little bit. He brings his hand up, gently cupping your jawline, his thumb rubbing small circles against your skin.

Your friend signed “You didn’t like him”. It wasn’t a question, but a statement, a fact he knew already.

You let your body relax under his touch, closing your eyes and nodding.

He lets out a low, pleased hum at your answer, his hand still cupping your chin, tilting your head back to rest against his chest. For a while, he simply holds you like this, his thumb still tracing soothing patterns against your skin. There’s something possessive in his touch, like he’s reminding himself that you’re here, in his arms, and not with that other guy.

“Hyunjin?” You call out his name before continuing “have you ever been intimate with a girl…?” yes, he was your best friend but a part of you needed an answer to this question.

Hyunjin chest rises and falls against your back as he takes a deep breath, the question seeming to fluster him a little. For a moment, he doesn’t answer, just holds you tighter, like he’s trying to press the words out of himself. Then, almost reluctantly, he signs, “…Yes, once, some time ago”.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your mind was already burning with jealousy.

He pauses for a long moment, his gaze still fixed on a point past your head. Finally, he signs, slowly, the words reluctant to leave him, “It didn’t mean anything.”

He swallows, his hand still tracing circles on your back, a gesture meant to soothe, either himself or you, he wasn’t sure which one.

You just nods slowly trying to process everything.

Hyunjin notices your reaction, or lack thereof. Despite the nonchalant tone of your nods, he can sense the unease, the insecurity hidden beneath your cool exterior. He moves suddenly, rolling you onto your back, so he’s pinning you beneath him. He hovers above you, his body enveloping you, his fingers moving quickly as he signs, “You don’t believe me?”

Your eyes widen and you sign “I didn’t said that, just wondering who this girl is.. i think”

Hyunjin huffs, annoyed that you aren’t accepting his word, but it’s a small victory, seeing you looking up at him like this. He lets out a sigh, his hand coming up to comb through your hair, his gaze fixed on yours.

He signs again, reluctantly, “She was… just a girl. Someone I met at a party. It was a long time ago, and I don’t remember her name anymore.”

“She knew sign language?” You sign immediately.

Your friend shakes his head, his fingers never stopping the soothing motion of playing with your hair. In the dim lighting of the room, his eyes seem almost dark, the pupils dilated. He swallows and signs again, his movements a little rougher this time, almost as if he was frustrated by the whole conversation “Does it matter? She was nobody.”

You were taken aback by his answer, she didn’t know sign language?… “But you were intimate with her- I mean-“ You started talking again but he cut you letting out an exasperated sigh, he lifts one of your hands, pressing it flat against his chest, his heart beating a steady, strong rhythm beneath your palm. Hyunjin signs, his movements sharp and clear, as if he was trying to make his point very clear, “I. Didn’t. Enjoy. It.”

You stared at him with a more relaxed expression.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, his eyes searching your face, trying to read your expression. Then, his hand slides down, cupping the side of your jaw, his thumb tracing the line of your bottom lip.

Hyunjin signs again, his movements softer this time, almost tender “The only one who matters… is you.”, then again, “Only. You.”

He moves, lowering himself against you, his body caging you beneath him, his hand still holding your face, his thumb running over your bottom lip again.

You shiver, you had to admit that in the last period you started seeing Hyunjin as more than… your usual best friend.

Hyunjin tilts your head back, exposing the column of your throat, his eyes zeroed in on the pulse point that fluttered wildly beneath your skin. His nose grazes your jawline, inhaling the scent that’s so distinctly you, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. His body is all hard planes and taut muscles, press against you from above, pinning you down, the heat radiating off of him almost feverish. He shifts against you, settling his hips between your legs, fitting them together like two puzzle pieces.

“Always you” he signs.

You smile at him, probably the most sincere smile you ever done, everything about this moment is making you want more and more.

Hyunjin watches your smile, his eyes tracing over the curve of your lips. It’s a good reaction, he thinks, although not nearly enough; He signs, “More”, and without warning he pressed his fingers on your jaw, forcing you to open your mouth.

As you gasp your friend takes advantage of it to claim your mouth, his lips devouring yours, his tongue delving in, tasting you, claiming you.

He swallows the sound you made, his hands roaming down your sides, his fingers digging into your hips, pinning you in place as his mouth continues to plunder yours.

You immediately close yours eyes, that’s the more you wanted.

Hyunjin doesn’t stop, his lips moving fiercely against yours, his tongue sweeping over every inch of your mouth. He can feel your body trembling beneath his, the soft sounds you’re making spurring him on, only adding fuel to the fire that’s burning inside him.

He breaks the kiss for a brief moment, just long enough to sign, “You taste like mine.”

You look directly into his eyes and signs “it tastes right to me”

Hyunjin huffs, the corners of his lips curving up in a half-smile at your response. He likes that, you agreeing, confirming his possessiveness over you.

He dips his head, his mouth attaching to the skin below your collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, his tongue leaving trails of heat in its wake.

You try not to make loud noises to let your other friends sleep but slowly you moan begin to be louder and louder.

Hyunjin can practically feel the way you’re holding back. He knows you’re trying to be quiet, to not give in too easily, and it only makes him more determined to break you. He continues his assault on your neck and collarbone, his hands slipping under the edge of your shirt, his fingers tracing the waistband of your panties.

You can’t help but whine, the desire burning inside of you at every touch.

His lips curve into a smile against your skin, feeling the way you’re starting to unravel in his hands.

Hyunjin slowly, torturously, moves lower, his mouth trailing a path down your body, until he’s leaving a trail of hickeys down your chest and stomach.

You are so sensitive to him, every kiss and every bite makes you squirm from pleasure.

He nips and kisses at the skin just above your panties, his hands running up and down your thighs, his touches firm but gentle at the same time, almost teasing. Hyunjin can feel the heat of your core so close to his mouth, and it’s taking all his self-control to not give in immediately.

“Pull- pull them off” your plea make him laugh a little.

He looks up at you, his eyes darkened in desire, his hands resting on the inside of your thighs, his fingers pressing against the sensitive skin there, parting your legs more.

He signs with one hand, his movements almost rough, “Perfect”.

He lows your panties and pull them aside before lifting your legs on his shoulder to have a better access to you, “So wet for me?” he signs.

You laugh a little at his sarcastic sign feeling his hot breaths against your core.

Hyunjin moans softly when his tongue touches your clit, the sound a deep rumble in his chest, the first time you’ve heard him make any noise that’s not signing. He slides his hands beneath your hips, lifting your hips up, pushing your legs further apart, his mouth moving against your folds savoring the moment.

You are already lost in pleasure, your lips parted and eyes locked into him, the way his tongue makes circular movement over your sensitive clit and penetrates your tiny hole make you shiver so bad.

He can feel how close you are, the way your body is tensing beneath his touch, the sounds you’re making growing more urgent, more desperate. He keeps going, his tongue swirling and swirling, bringing you to the edge and keeping you there, waiting for the moment when you’ll finally fall.

You hold onto to the bed sheets “hyunjin-“

He can feel the way you’re shaking, how hard you’re trying not to come undone just yet, and it only makes him more determined to push you over the edge. He lifts his head for a moment, his mouth and chin glistening with your slick, just long enough to sign to you again, “Cum for me” his fingers press into your hip, holding you in place, his eyes dark with lust, his voice a growled command.

You come undone with a loud moan as he watches you intently, his eyes taking in every reaction, every sound you make. He can see the way your body trembles, the way your eyes slide shut as you fall over the edge, and he swallows a growl of satisfaction, his tongue continuing to lick you, prolonging your orgasm until you’re practically begging for him to stop. He lifts his head, a small smirk on his face, and lifts himself up, his hands running up the length of your body, until he’s hovering over you, his eyes locked on yours.

You blush while catching some air, “come here, please”.

He leans down, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing slightly heavier than normal. He lifts one of his hands, his fingers brushing through your hair, an uncharacteristically gentle gesture from the normally stoic guy. He signs, his fingers moving slowly, “Say it again.”

You smile “I want you here, near me, Hyunjin”.

He huffs, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. He pulls back, letting his eyes roam over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your damp hair, the way you’re looking at him with a mixture of need and desire.

He signs, his movements steady and sure, “I’m never gonna let you go”.

You laugh a little “that’s a threat?”.

He signs “a promise”.

Taglist: @felixleftchickennugget @kiwininja35 @sweetpickledjins @slmnheart @elqivxstxr @catffeinexo-xx @multistancheck @justwonder113 @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @hello-stranger24 @raptorbait529 @cocofia143 @minniesverse @eastjonowhere

(comment to be added to the master list🎐)

[writersblockedx]

Something Inappropriate

Pairing - Professor! Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary - When Spencer Reid bumps into one of his students while she's highly intoxicated, he takes it upon himself to get her home safely. Warnings - Student/teacher relationship, drinking, very slight implication of sexual assault Words - 1.9K

A/n - Thinking about making this into a little mini-series so let me know if you like this!

masterlist

It was Friday night and every student was somewhere in town. Groups of them crowding the bar, ordering shots or vodka sodas. Whatever was cheapest and whatever could get them drunk enough.

It just so happened that this certain Friday night, Y/n had gulped on too many drinks. It was barely 1am before she was stumbling to the dance floor, her friend's hand interlocked. Her intoxicated dance was enough to draw some attention. Some men eyeing her in the corner, some more girls wanting to join in and a man she knew at the bar: Professor Spencer Reid. One of her lecturers. Her favourite lecturer in fact.

Y/n didn't really register it in her drunken state until she wandered up to the bar and spotted him closer up. He was sipping on a something with coke, stood beside a man she didn't recognise: broad-shouldered and tough. "Professor?" She called with a sly smile rising to her lips.

Spencer turned: a pleasant surprise. "Y/n, hi, it's good to see you." He returned the smile, observing the girl's obvious drunken state.

"Well, I certainly didn't expect to see you here...no offence." She giggled drunkenly. Her professor was, obviously, much older. He seemed the type to enjoy a book on a Friday night - not a bar.

Spencer pointed to the man next to him, "It's erm- Morgan dragged me here." Said man turned to face Y/n, a cheeky glint already settled in his eye.

"Are you one of the doctor's students, hm?" He asked.

"I am," She answered, "Do you work at BAU too?"

Morgan shook his head, "Used to."

"Well, it was nice bumping into you both," She sent them a final smile, "See you Monday morning, sir." She directed such at Spencer before turning to face the bartender who was awaiting to take her order.

And once she grasped it, returning to her friends with a stumble in her steps, Morgan glanced back at Reid. The boy knew Morgan long enough to know what was coming: what that glint in his eyes meant. "She's interesting," He commented, observing Spencer. "Maybe I need to switch career paths."

Spencer swallowed hard on his drink, "She's my student, Morgan." The other man only shrugged at such response; nothing in the sensual sense ever seemed off-putting to Morgan. But Spencer, well he had many lines he had yet to cross. And Y/n was one of them.

His eyes gazed over to the girl who was giggling at something one of her friends had said. She was beautiful - she would give Morgan that. But, as much as that was the case, a relationship further than academic would be... inappropriate. No matter what Spencer might have thought about the girl. Even now, as he glanced at her from afar, she seemed nothing but carefree, captivating, alluring. And he couldn't let his mind go there.

An hour or so had passed when Spencer finally convinced Morgan that they should go home. He wandered outside, making sure Morgan got into his taxi all right before the front door to the bar swung open. Y/n stepped out, attempting to grasp a single cigarette from the packet. She had yet to notice her professor watching her. Once she had one between her fingertips, another challenge arrived: lightening it.

"Need some help there?" Spencer wandered up to her, shoving his hand into his trouser pockets.

If she were sober, she probably would have stopped what she was doing. Smoking in front of one of her preferred professors wasn't exactly the view she wanted to give. "Erm- I-" She sighed, giving in and handing the lighter over to Spencer, "Yes."

He took it, creating a block from the wind with one hand and letting the fire ignite before the girl was able to inhale the smoke into her lungs. "Thanks," She muttered before he took a step away.

"You shouldn't smoke you know," He could go on a ramble - but he wouldn't.

She shrugged, "I know, I just- I can't find my friends, I don't know where they've gone." She explained. "I thought they might be out here."

Spencer looked around the pavement they were standing on: deserted. "But?"

"But, they're not." She huffed as the smoke exhaled from her lips. She stumbled as she took a step, "I think- I think they went to some club." Her head banged - it was all beginning to become blurred.

And at her words, Spencer's concern intensified. "And they left you here?" He questioned.

Her eyes fell to the floor as she attempted to think, "I didn't want to go." She told him. "I shouldn't be- I can't-"

Before she could get out her drunken slurs, a hand came to her shoulder, "Do you have a way home?"

Y/n found herself effortlessly staring into the gaze of her behavioural analyst professor. "I erm- I walk." She answered him as if he had willed the very words from her lips.

Spencer decided then and there; he wasn't having this. If not for the very feeling inside him that compelled him to take care of her, it was the fact she was a young girl walking alone at night. Quite frankly, he taught some of the men at this college - he didn't trust them. "Come on," He spoke as he wandered over to his car.

Yet, Y/n stayed where she was, "What?" She couldn't even think this was a possibility.

"I'll drive you home," He said as he stopped, just by the driver's door. "Don't worry, I've only had two drinks. I just want to make sure you get home safe."

She shook her head. As tempting as a drive home with her attractive professor was, she couldn't possibly. "I'm fine, honestly-" She took a step, tripping on her own two feet.

Luckily, Spencer caught her before her face hit the stone concrete. Her fingers gripped his wrists as he took a hold of her. They didn't let go - not straight away. A moment passed as Y/n raised her head as to meet her professor's gaze. "What were you saying again?" He made the point of making.

She let go and straightened her back, "Are you sure don't mind?"

His smile became one of empathy, "I'd rather do this than wonder what could happen to you alone."

And so, without another thought, she slipped into the passenger seat of Spencer's car. A part of her wanted to be home, wanted to be in her bed. The other, however, liked the idea of being here...with him. "It's erm, Rose court, the student accom." She informed. "It's probably only a five-minute drive."

Spencer thought about making the point that even if it was an hour's drive, he would have made it at that very moment. He wanted her safe. Maybe because she was a brilliant student, maybe because he was concerned, or maybe because something else was urging his actions. Something of which the man had had a conscious decision to push to the side.

Though, even in a five-minute drive, Y/n had been lulled into sleep. The safety of someone she knew, the comfort of the leather car seat and the way the drinks had made her drowsy. Her eyelids had grown heavy and she didn't put up a fight against it. 

When the car engine stopped, Spencer looked over at her. For a few seconds, he thought about not waking her. She was so peaceful, tranquil, with no worries, nothing but her own dreams. "Y/n," He whispered. Nothing. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, "Y/n, hey, we're here."

Slowly, her eyelids started to flutter open and she found her view of her professor. It was all real. It wasn't just an intoxicated dream. "Sorry," She murmured in response.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," He spoke before exiting the car and going round as to open the passenger door for the girl. "Are you okay to walk?"

She slipped her legs out, "I'm fine yeah."

Famous last words.

The moment her heels hit the concrete pavement, she wobbled right into Spencer's hold. "Okay, I'll walk you up to your room." He decided then and there, without even consulting the girl on such.

"I can walk up to my room, professor." She argued.

But all she was met with was a raised brow of uncertainty, "You can't get out of the car without falling. How do you think stairs are going to go?" That was something she chose not to argue with.

She started wandering up to the first door, searching through her bag for the keys. She swayed until she felt an arm wrap around her waist. Her body steadied. Her eyes found Spencer again. The subtle touch was making even her drunken, confident self nervous. "Is this okay?" He checked when he observed her unsure body language.

The girl swallowed, "Hmh." And then she looked away, finally grasping her keys.

Spencer watched as she stumbled over to the door, not daring to let his touch leave the girl. She slipped the key into the door and they were over the first hurdle. And then, stairs. "Let's go slow, okay?" Spencer soothed her through.

She gave nothing but an incoherent nod as she followed Spencer's steps. "Which one is it?" He questioned.

Y/n was pointing to a door across from the stairs, "B..B35." She informed as Spencer guided her to the door and she started looking for the apartment door key. "I've got it...somewhere." In the midst of her search, a thought came to mind. Her movement stopped and she glanced up over at Spencer, "Can I ask you something actually? While I'm, you know, erm-"

"Drunk?" Spencer chuckled as he finished her sentence.

"I mean, yeah." She couldn't deny such a fact. "I mean, I always wondered why you left the BAU? You always talk about it in lectures and it just- you talked about it with a lot of love." Spencer's smile faltered at the thought of nostalgic memories. "Sorry, if that's intruding, I just, I-"

"No, no, it's fine," Spencer's words were quick to ease the girl's worrisome thoughts. "I suppose I needed a break, a lot of things happened, I needed time away from the field to process them I guess." He explained, wondering if the girl would even remember any of this by the morning. Would she even know who dropped her off home?

She hummed, "Makes sense I guess." And like that, with no judgement or opinion, she went back to find her apartment key. "Here,"

Y/n swung the door open to her dorm, "Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Spencer checked.

"I think I can just about make it to my bed," She joked as she leaned against the doorframe. "Thank you, by the way." He didn't have to do what he did. Most professors wouldn't have done. But he, he was different.

His hands found their way back into the deep depths of his pockets as he replied, "I don't just have a responsibility to teach, but also a duty of care, I'm always here to make sure you're okay."

And he would be. For her, definitely. There was something ever so alluring about the girl. Something he would force himself to ignore. Something he wouldn't act on. Something which was inappropriate. 

[cepalliumtm]

Held in Captivity

yandere!empress x princess!reader

The aftermath of a fallen kingdom being subsumed by a massive empire ruled by a woman known for her cruelty and absolute desire for obedience.

tw: yandere tendencies, slight Stockholm syndrome, no use of (y/n), obsession, age gap, captivity (reader is held hostage), slightly implied sexual content (but nothing explicit)

————————╰ ─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─ ╯————————

"You'd think that after everything you've been through, you would know better than to trust your old kingdom."

Necrisir holds on tightly to her prize, a small pathetic princess lying in her lap enjoying her gentle and soothing caresses. She's careful not to let any of her claws scratch your cheek as she rubs your head, almost as if she's trying to lull you to sleep.

You already know what this is, and you promised yourself you wouldn't fall for her temptations. But it's getting oh so much harder, especially when you're considered the damsel in distress in this situation.

She continues her speech, her voice almost slurring the words out, almost as if she's trying to calm herself down. "It’s pretty pathetic that they think they can resist my orders. I've been living many years princess, you should know this. I'm… quite hard to kill." She chuckles at your sweet hums and moans, you not wanting to let her know you're enjoying her touch. "But I guess their stubbornness will be their downfall, and once they realize that my armies outnumber them, they'll give me what I want."

As much as you want to struggle, the fact that you're essentially taken hostage and thus, a liability, you know that there isn't much point. You don't want to hear about her plans for your kingdom, the kingdom you knew did not care for you. The royalty there were no more different from her, using others for their own gain. At least she's blunt about her plans of assimilation.

And at least she's giving you the illusion of a paradise within the walls of the palace.

You still want to plead for their freedom, hoping that whatever she does with them, your people would still be able to live their lives, to work freely, among other things. But all you can do is listen to the almost horrendous plans she has for them. After all, she's not known for showing mercy to her enemies. Especially those that has offended her so far.

However, the empress does notice a slight movement coming from you. You became uncomfortable in your position, and wanting to turn around. Your head almost feels numb.

"Ah, princess," she coos, giving you the kindest of gazes. You can hear the sweetness laced in her tone, her breath almost tickling your ears as she speaks. "Don't move. I rather enjoy you like this, all docile for me."

You still slightly squirm, wanting to sit up. It's hateful how pathetic you've become, nothing but a prize that she has taken for herself.

"My dear, is it really that bad?" She gently lifts your head up so now it's resting against her broad shoulders. "Perhaps it was wrong to cast that spell on you. Well since you've been an obedient little girl I suppose you may be rewarded with the ability to speak." She presses a finger to your lips, the block in your throat almost dissipating to nothing. It's like you can properly breathe now.

"Oh, Sun of the land," you say clearly, your voice raspy and unpolished. Makes sense, you've been forbidden from speaking for at least a week. "I do have one question I'd like to ask."

She nearly revels at the sight of your huddled up form next to her, bravely speaking out the words even though she can tell that you're nervous. "Well, do tell me my flower."

"I was wondering what would happen to my kingdom once you… take care of things."

"Our kingdom my dear, our kingdom." She smiles and kisses your head. "And I'm pretty sure I know what to do with it. Once they give it up I will make it prosper, better than what it is before. All the suffering, all the pain will be taken away. Can't you see that I'm doing a good thing for your people? Of course, they will have to assimilate into the empire. That is an unfortunate thing."

You shrug your shoulders, at least she's being reasonable. It probably means though because they are essentially her prisoners, assimilating quietly would mean deeming them as lesser than citizens. And as much as you hate it for your people, the alternative was her destroying everything you hold dear.

"My flower, we will begin preparations immediately as soon as we're able. Of course, due to the assimilation process taking so long most of their affairs will be taken over by my troops, but as long as they take the proper measures to fully accept and become loyal to my empire they will slowly earn everything back tenfold. I am a fair and just ruler, isn't that right?"

"But," the lingering question remains on your tongue. "What will become of my family?"

She huffs, but answers it bluntly. "Your family has committed treason, my flower. They shall be put to death the day they do what is best for the kingdom. You must understand…" She faces towards you, her gentle but firm caress pulling you upwards so you can meet her eyes. "This is simply the punishment for not settling the conflict peacefully."

The thought of it terrifies you. Knowing that you only have a limited time before you can see any of your family again would tear you apart. And despite her seeming infatuation with you it can easily turn into the same punishment they will go through.

"You needn't worry about yourself however," she notes, knowing the horrid thoughts going through your head. "I would never, ever do that to my flower. You are simply precious, perfect for me. As long as you don't betray me I would never hurt a hair on your little pretty head." She kisses your head again, wrapping her arms around you and holding you close. "Don't forget that they gave you to me. The moment you stepped foot in this palace is the day you became mine. I know you don't see it darling, but I will do almost anything to make sure you realize that. You are free under my influence, safe within my arms, and belonging to my kingdom. Do you understand that?"

You gulp, knowing the undertone beneath those words: ever try to escape me darling and I will hunt you down and bring you back to me.

"O-of course, sun of the land."

She giggles at your sweet title. "My dear, I'd prefer if you call me by name."

You don't say another word, a mental block (this time from within) preventing you from speaking once more.

She sighs, closing her eyes as she gives you a quick squeeze. "It's okay, we'll slowly get there." You settle into her arms, eyelids growing heavier as she continues to soothe you with her touch. Her words continue to unsettle you, whispering promises of love and loyalty. "I know one day you'll willingly stay by my side, become completely mine, come to love me as much I do you."

And the worst part of it is, you're slowly starting to believe them.

a/n: tbh, this is more of a test. I never thought that I would post this out in the open, but here I am, posting it anyway.

[sh1-n0bu]

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 1: bondage/shibari with blade from hsr!

warnings: shibari/bondage obv, subspace, affirmation of consent, cockstepping, forced self praise, nipple stimulation, masochist blade, slight feminization, praise

notes: oh shit, here we go

being in a relationship with blade comes with many surprises and way too many heart attacks. no, really, the amount of times you almost had a heart attack because of this man is insane.

coming back home injured and on the brink of death. sudden reopening of his wounds and stitches because he was so used to pain. or the fact that he literally fell unconscious on your lap because he forgot to eat anything for the last who knows what long?

or even now, when he holds out a red rope, asking you to tie him up like a helpless prey.

it took a lot of tries and failures. wrapping the pretty red rope around the bare skin of your masochistic lover is quite hard when you have zero experience on full body bondage. if it were just hands and legs, you were a master at it. but not when it comes to shibari.

“color?” your voice comes out soft and gentle, tightening the last part of the red rope behind his back. all you got in response was a quiet shuddered breath.

“bladie, color?” fastening the end of the rope behind his back — not too tight, not too loose — your hand comes up to rest atop his head before slowly stroking his hair. that snapped him out of his current thoughts real fast as his hazy ruby eyes shift up to look at you.

“g-green… green” blade nods, gulping down what saliva was being collected in his mouth.

looking down at your handiwork, the stellaron hunter almost lets out a loud moan at the sight. red rope, one that is the same color of his eyes, fastened around his body so prettily. his chest, breasts you like to call whenever you squeeze them, looked bigger than usual. a part of the red rope going down and around his pecs, digging into his skin just enough to remind him of the current action you two were about to do. and his cock, standing angry red and proud.

he was hard. embarrassingly so.

you haven’t done anything but tie him up to his request and oh gods, he was already so embarrassingly hard.

if you were to see his arousal and the slight pre already on his tip, what would you do? would you scold him? call him mean and degrading names? would you leave him untouched and desperate for hours? would you slap his cock and make him cry and sob in a twisted sense of pleasure and pain?

a hand comes to rest on his chest, momentarily snapping him out of his thoughts. oh, what would you do? what would you do to him? your poor, pathetic, helpless lover.

“my sweet bladie. look at you, staying there all tied up like a little prey” he briefly hears your voice call out, hands starting to fondle and squeeze his pecks. unconsciously, he pushed his chest further into your hand, wanting more of your sweet touches. it felt like his entire body was on fire and only your hand could soothe him. or even make it worse.

“do you like it, dear? does my pretty boy like it when i fondle his tits like that?” he lets out an embarrassingly loud noise at your words. a pathetic sound that’s akin to a mewl that a cat in heat makes. without even noticing, his hips stutter in his position on the rug covered floor as well.

“such a cute and round breasts you have, my love. so full. they fit in my hand so prettily. do you think if i suck on your pretty nipples for long enough, you would start lactating?”

oh. oh no. just that mental image or the thought of having your mouth wrapped around his areola had him whining out loudly. rutting his hips on the material of the soft rug desperately as he tries to make your words a reality. oh, would you help him out if that actually does end up becoming real? would you suck and stimulate his nerves so often and too much to the point that he would actually start lactating just like a woman would? would you suck on his leaking milk?

such vile thoughts that made him squirm on his place on the floor with a long, drawn-out whine. who would have ever thought your stoic looking lover would be such a weak little thing.

not that you minded it. you loved it actually. all the more reasons to circle a thumb around his hardened bud, making him twitch and buck his hips, searching for the tiniest bits of friction to his poor leaking cock.

"ah right. how mean of me. i forgot about your little problem" you let out a soft coo, deciding to try out a new thing as well. no point in backing out now. your sweet boy was already a mess on the floor with just a few touches and caresses. might as well help him out and fulfill his fantasies.

"color?" you ask again, one of your feet lightly resting on his stomach, pressing lightly, just enough pressure to cause blade to gain his words again from wherever his pretty mushy brain is swimming in once he gets to this state.

understanding the implications of your words and what you were asking affirmation for, blade couldn't help but nod his head a little too eagerly. the dirty and vile side of him wanting what exactly it was you were offering. the dark and more twisted part of him just wanted you to do that already. to take what you wanted without asking, make him scream, jolt, sob from the suddenness of it all.

but of course, you would never do that. you were so caring of him. makes him wonder how he even was lucky enough to have you as his own lover.

"my love, i need to hear you use your words" your voice sounded a bit harsher than he remembered. did he made you mad? disappointed? sad? he didn't meant to! poor little blade was just too damn lost in his own little space. all thanks to the rope and the suffocating amount of trust he blindly puts in you.

"green... please? aeons, please just touch me" his response was sluggish. slow. slurred. drunken and lost in the hazy grips of pleasure and anticipation. that was all you needed.

with a comforting headpat, the feet that you had placed on his stomach slowly trailing down before coming to rest over his hard on. just a simple buck of his hips and he can get to feel you step down on his cock. the thought had blade already panting and drooling. but you haven’t even touched him yet. what a perverted boy, he was.

slowly but gently, you pressed down on his arousal before putting just enough pressure to cause him to let out gasps and loud whines. it felt good. you felt good. you were making him feel so good and blade? oh, he could never be happier nor could he ever thank you enough for it.

“t-thank you…! gunhhg thankyou thankyo—oounpp!!! gccck♡︎!” the man blabbers on drunkenly, his hips twitching as he tries to rut up into your feet further to make you just stomp on his pathetic cock. he would love that so much. the disgusting, masochist part of him would love that so fucking much.

“you’re my pretty boy, right? my sweet toy. my cute prey. my darling blade, right? you’re still my good bladie, right?” he could briefly hear you hum so sweetly. voice like a honey on his fried brain. in response, all blade could do was nod and nod eagerly like a pup. hands straining against the pretty red ropes that you tied around him.

“words, blade” the hand that was still playing and squeezing at him breast — god he completely forgot about your hand there — squeezes at his hardened nipple before pulling on it slightly. that was a warning for him to use his words. to repeat back what you said to him like a broken record. or else, you would probably deny touching him all-together and your sweet boy would hate that.

“guuh— i am! i am i am! ‘m your good boy. y-your sweet boy! ‘m still your cute bladie nyaah♥︎!” that last part slipped out unconsciously. he could barely even form any words now. just pathetically humping the rug and your feet that’s pressed down on his leaking cock, face pressed against the side of your thigh as his noises become more loud and debouched.

all he knew was to keep repeating the words you said. there was no need for him to think. why would he have the need to think when you were right there in front of him, helping him and being so cruel yet so sweet to him? blade didn’t needed to use his head when with you.

so, he just simply kept parroting your words through jumbled heap of mess. how he was your toy. your cute prey. your good boy. your love, blade. yours, yours, yours, yours—!

“uuunghh! mmpf-fuck! fuckfuckfuck! n-nnyaaghh♡︎♡︎!” twitching violently on his place on the floor, the immortal tries to break free from the ropes keeping his hands tied tightly to his sides. blade had always been a touchy guy, wanting to scratch your back, sides, hips, wherever his hands could reach. and yet he couldn’t. not this time and it’s all because of what he said and his own wishes.

so, he simply settles on mewling embarrassingly loud as his hips stutter in place, cock cumming untouched as he tries to hide his drooling face into the soft flesh of your thighs, soiling your feet with his own cum.

“g-gcckk.. m-more… unngh need you t-to fill me up” blade mumbles, voice muffled as he rubs his cock against your feet. he was already hard again and the skin on skin contact stung whenever he slowly humped your leg. oh but he loved it.

the red ropes matched his flushed cheeks and bleary eyes perfectly. so, who are you to stop now and deny your sweet boy?

[fallow-hollow]

loved your kabru fic!! would you be willing to write a 5+1 chilchuck/reader fic? along the lines of “5 times they nearly kissed, and 1 time post-canon where they actually did”?

count to six

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! pining, almost kisses, arguments but they make up, extremely minor manga spoilers, chilchuck being bad with feelings, pre-relationship and post-relationship, most of these take place pre-canon

…word count! 3697

…notes! i think receiving a chilchuck request is just a rite of passage for a dunmeshi blog at this point. i hope the old man likers are pleased by this one!

one

You’d always admired Chilchuck, really. And not just in a professional sense, mind you.

Of course you respected his skills and his professionalism, but after working with him for some time, you could clearly see that there was so much more about him that continued to catch your eye. Those little slips in his usual attitude were what fascinated you, keeping you waiting for the next snippet of his personality you could get a glimpse of.

As a man of great pride in his profession, accepting help or being “coddled” weren’t exactly on Chilchuck’s to-do list. If he was interrupted or goodness forbid challenged while he was trying to do his job, he’d become even crabbier than those literal treasure crabs monsters he hated so much. Nonetheless, you cared for him and your party, so you offered to lend a hand where you felt it was appropriate.

Maybe it was just you, but the half-foot almost seemed more receptive of your intervention than he usually was with others. Perhaps it was because you did your best to be unobtrusive but firm in your offers, cementing yourself not as someone looking down on him, but a teammate who understood the importance of cooperation.

While your professional relationship was an enjoyable one, it was nice to see the man let loose every now and again. Around and after mealtimes he’d become more talkative, especially if he’d had some booze to wash down his helping of whatever was available that night. This particular evening, you’d had a particularly nice stir fry with the grains you’d bought and even a bit of salt-cured meat and some dried legumes that kept extremely well. Even if your meals were sometimes a hodgepodge of whatever would be cheap or long-lasting, it filled you up, and you were grateful for that.

The rest of the party members had just stood up to go and wash their dishes and utensils, and you were about to rise as well before stealing a quick glance at the half-foot next to you and immediately blurting out,

“Oh, you’ve got something.”

Chilchuck could only raise one of his eyebrows, not quite understanding what you meant from your wording. “Something?” he parroted.

“On your face,” you would quickly clarify, leading to spending several seconds watching him try to get it, making both amusement and slight frustration bubble up within you.

In fact, you were so concentrated on wiping off the smeared food with your sleeve that you didn’t even notice the sound of his squeak — yes, his squeak — when you leaned forward to get a closer look. In hindsight, perhaps you’d miscalculated the amount of space between you, because your faces were practically touching, despite you not realizing it at the time. In your concentration, your companion even noticed the tip of your tongue sticking out of your mouth in concentration. It wasn’t something he’d intended to fixate on, but in the moment it seemed like it was all he could do while he waited for you to be done. After all, it moved suddenly, you two might accidentally…..

“Alright, got it.” You pulled away so quickly that he hardly had time to comprehend the motion before your grinning face was already visible, albeit more distant now. Only after the fact would you realize that you had most certainly invaded his personal space without asking, though it felt too late to really apologize for it properly without making things awkward.

What both you and him didn’t notice, however, was the way his ears tinged pink at the proximity between the two of you.

two

With the embarrassment of the previous incident still fresh in your mind, the second offense certainly didn’t fly over your head this time.

Though, with all fairness, it wasn’t like it was something that could be helped. Rather than simple ignorance of personal space, this was a total accident.

In order to progress into the deeper floors of the dungeon, it was only natural that any party would eventually have to deal with some traps getting in their way. Your party in particular was currently being led by your expert, that being Chilchuck, through a plain, narrow hallway that was purportedly rigged with various traps and projectiles.

Both the walls and floor were made of what appeared to be a completely uniform stone construction, but with his keen senses and knowledge of dungeons, Chilchuck was able to deduce a pattern of which stones were safe to step on, the rest being triggers for various dangerous mechanisms.

Everyone was following behind Chilchuck in pretty much single file. He would traverse the safe path, then you would copy his steps, so on and so forth down the line. Usually, this method worked perfectly for these sorts of puzzles, as long as nobody moved too early or had a misstep. Unfortunately for you in particular, a misstep is exactly what you made.

When trying to land gracefully on the ball of your foot, the weight shifted, forcing you to roll onto your ankle with a pained sound. Instinctually, you tried to put your weight back into your other foot and staggered, hardly even comprehending the way you felt the ground beneath you sink ever so slightly.

All you really registered at first was the sound of somebody shouting, not to mention the feeling of your body being tugged forward with a roughness that stemmed not from malice, but from desperation. Someone was tugging on your shirt, so much so that you immediately fell onto your knees and proceeded to slide across the floor for a short distance as well. If you didn’t have something covering your knees, you’re sure that would have hurt like hell.

The pain was just on the cusp of excruciating, making you want to reach down and hold your injured foot, but not before you noticed the warmth of a body directly in front of you, close enough to wrap both arms around.

Chilchuck still had a grasp on your shirt, breathing heavily after what was most certainly a terrifying moment for him. It’s strange, really — he always insisted that he was only here to guide you, not bail you out, but in moments like these, the sight of a party member in harm’s way always seemed to seep through his stoic exterior and inflict him with sheer panic.

You almost wanted to smile at the thought, finding it almost soothing, but you figured it would seem pretty odd considering you’d freshly injured yourself and you were also far too close to your coworker for comfort.

A free hand laid itself on top of Chilchuck’s, still shaky. The man subsequently withdrew his hand, shocked at the unprompted touch despite literally having grabbed you moments before. That was…. different, he attempted to reason to himself.

Some voices sounded from behind the both of you after you withdrew from one another to catch your breath.

“Are you alright?” came a soft voice that you instantly recognized as Falin. “If I could, I’d heal you right now, but I really can’t reach you with these trapped tiles all around. I hope it’s okay that we have to wait until we clear the traps.”

“Not like we have much of a choice, so I’m fine.” You listened to your own voice bounce off the walls, noting how wary you sounded. Outside of your field of vision, the half-foot also winced. You weren’t in great shape, sure, but it really could have been worse…. he thought that maybe telling himself that would make him feel less guilty about the state you were in, but for some strange reason, the feeling just wouldn’t go down. Almost like an especially bitter tasting liquor.

Toshiro — or Shuro, as most of the party tended to call him — was the next in line behind you, and luckily well equipped to carry you the rest of the way. It was a good thing, some might even say a stroke of luck that you’d been positioned in front of him instead of, say, Marcille, but Chilchuck couldn’t help but follow you with his eyes. Seeing you be carried by the man somehow only made him feel more on edge, instead of at ease like he naturally should have. That bitter taste again…

Despite your injury, you felt surprisingly alert, and your eyes continued to dart around, assessing your surroundings now that you didn’t have to focus so intensely on the floor. You saw an arrow lodged into a gap between two of the stones in the wall, probably freshly fired when you triggered that trap. If you hadn’t been pulled away in time, you might have gotten seriously injured or even died.

By the time your gaze landed back on Chilchuck, he was already turning around, but you could’ve sworn that he was looking at you in the split second before he turned his back on you.

The thought that maybe you captivate him even half as much as he captivates you lets you close your eyes with a smile on your face.

three

Ever since that incident in the hallway, you’d started to suspect that Chilchuck was avoiding you.

It wasn’t anything offensive or egregious, but you could sense him becoming even more withdrawn than usual. You two weren’t exactly the chummiest of people with one another in the first place, but lately he’d been acknowledging you less and less, not responding to smart remarks or offers to help him like he usually did.

You knew that he was still noticing you, judging by the slight turn of his head towards the sound of your voice and the occasional clenching of his jaw. Clearly, something was on his mind that he didn’t feel like sharing. Fairly typical, though you couldn’t help but miss that thin sliver of himself he let others see. With you, he was open just enough to at least let you get your foot in the door, and you didn’t want to lose that.

So, determined to get to the bottom of your companion’s heightened defensiveness, you were able to catch him alone when he’d volunteered to be on night watch. With everyone else asleep, you’d finally be able to talk to him without the concern of being overheard.

The half-foot immediately noticed your presence, you’re sure of that. Of course, you were still quiet as to not wake anyone up, it was more so that no matter how quiet you could be, absolutely nothing would slip past his keen senses. Detecting threats and things of note in the dungeon was his job, after all.

No time was wasted in cutting to the chase, certainly.

“Are you avoiding me?”

You couldn’t catch a glimpse of Chilchuck’s face from where you stood, but the way he slowly shifted from one foot to another suggested he was deliberating his response. There was also also a light tapping sound that rang through the space between you, and after a minute of darting your eyes around you realized that he had his arms crossed and was tapping his index finger against his forearm.

The thing you couldn’t notice, of course, was the way his eyes were blown wide with the fear of a man who had absolutely no idea what to say. It’s not like he was ever any good at talking about these things. That’s why he thought it better to just avoid the issue altogether!

Clearly, he should’ve known better. You had other plans for him, just like you always do. Most of those plans usually ended up making him somehow feel like a total fool, even if he was just trying to keep it professional. So why? Why did he respond in earnest instead of shooing you away?

“It’s just sort of a habit, I guess. I try to avoid forming personal biases, especially ones based around personal relationships.” Once those words were finally pushed up and out of his throat, the man at least felt brave enough go turn around and face you, scratching the back of his neck now. “It’s pretty much the most common cause of issues within and between parties, so it’s something I’ve come to be wary of over the years.”

His words caused something to click in your head, and you couldn’t help but grin at him despite the circumstances.

“Are you essentially saying I’m your favorite?”

Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say in response, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it, what with how the man’s face scrunched up in both embarrassment and frustration. Maybe it was just an effect of the dim lighting, but he seemed a bit red as well.

“Now’s not the time to act smug, you know that’s not my point.” The hand that was previously behind his neck shifted to point at you accusingly, but it didn’t quite feel sincere. There was something about the way it wavered in midair that made you feel certain that he wasn’t truly angry. “I’m just saying that I prefer to regulate the group environment than just go around making merry without a second thought!”

Dark pupils followed your form, moving up to stand next to him now. “I understand what you mean, but there is a lot of value in making merry, you know? Or even moments like this, for example.”

Chilchuck felt so confused at those words that he dropped his irritated expression entirely. What could possibly be valuable about something so frustrating as his own biases? It’s not like his feelings had any tangible value like a gold coin or a precious jewel. Love was nice, sure, but that alone couldn’t put food on the table.

Sensing his confusion, you could only continue. “Maybe you only view it from a professional lens, but that doesn’t mean it can’t make sense from that standpoint, you know? Your coworkers like to know you. Playing favorites really isn’t an issue when you’re not out boss or anything, I’d think. You’re our equal. And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but it’s hard to confidently stand on equal ground with somebody who’s so closed off. Makes it hard to trust.”

Trust?

Wasn’t trust in his skills enough? He was already an extremely skilled individual, what reason would most people have…. not to trust him….

Ah.

It felt so shameful to just look at the ground as if he was being scolded. What else could he do, though? It felt like the mechanism of a trap with a tentacle wedged in the crevices, keeping it from moving altogether. Your words were that obstruction, stopping the inner workings of his mind in its tracks.

“Could you look at me, Chilchuck?”

Total bewilderment did nothing to prevent the half-food from turning to meet your face, level with his own. One of your hands hovered over his cheek, never quite touching. In a similar fashion, his fingers ghosted over your wrist.

“Even just taking a moment to look at someone, take in each other’s presence…. it’s a start. Not open, but not closed, either. You can just leave that door open a crack. It shows people that you trust them with not only your time, but yourself.”

His eyes were utterly transfixed on the movements of your lips.

You were right there, you were so close. A perfect chance served on a silver platter. Even so…

“…Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” The moment Chilchuck’s hand departed from your wrist, you withdrew your own hand, backing off into the distance the two of you previously had. He turned to stand shoulder to shoulder with you now, not quite facing you, but not quite facing away, either. By no means did the man want to shut you out, but he couldn’t bring himself to open up just yet.

The brief silence was interrupted by a quick remark. “You better mean that, because I’m not opposed to cornering you like this again.”

Chilchuck snorted at your words. “Fine, fine, I heard you. Never let me catch a break, do you?”

No, not just yet.

four

It had hardly been two days since your talk, and the man was already admiring you while you slept like some kind of freak.

Lord, what were you doing to him?

He just couldn’t sleep, that’s what he said to himself as his eyes remained fixed on your face. In hindsight, he almost regrets letting you put your sleeping bag next to his. If you hadn’t, he wouldn’t have such an easy way to stare at you instead of sleeping like he was supposed to.

In the end, though, he supposed it was his fault. He had a harder time saying no to you, and he hated it.

More than that, he hated how vulnerable you were in this moment. So close to him, yet so at ease. Did you really trust him like you talked about? In truth, Chilchuck himself wasn’t sure if you should. Did you really know just how depraved and selfish he actually was?

I mean, if he really wanted to, he could do something horrible and you wouldn’t even know. Take advantage of this state, and do whatever he wanted.

He bet he could even get close enough to…

The half-foot turned over.

Not tonight.

five

Just after the party lost Falin, as well as Toshiro and Namari leaving as a result, Chilchuck asked to talk with you.

“You shouldn’t go looking for her. Especially not with us.”

You weren’t sure whether you were angry or just disappointed. Did he really not understand?

“I’ve already made up my mind, Chilchuck. You already know how I feel.” This response only seemed to further provoke your companion. With nobody else around to hear, he had no problem raising his voice at you.

“Oh, I know perfectly well!” When he pointed at you, his hand didn’t waver, trained perfectly on your form. “I know that you’re absolutely insane if you think this is in any way a good idea.”

Frustration started to overtake your face, and in turn you shouted back, “I don’t know why you always feel like caring about others and being insane is the same thing! It isn’t!”

“Don’t assume how I feel!” As you both shouted back and forth, you both slowly inched closer to one another, until eventually you were standing toe to toe. The pressure eventually got so intense that you could only collapse to your knees and plead,

“Then just tell me. Tell me, please. All I want is to know.”

Well, that was a quick way to make him feel like the biggest asshole on earth. You on your knees, asking him so simply for something that couldn’t be bought or sold. Asking for him.

“I…”

I can’t, he wanted to say. He tried to force out the words, but he nearly choked, as if he was about to cry. Holding back that reaction, he tried his best to do what he knew you needed.

…He leveled with you and put a hand on your shoulder. It really was so hard to say no to you.

“Not yet, okay? I promise I will once this is all over, just… not yet. Wait for me, will you at least do that much?”

After a few moments of catching your own breath, you were able to look at his face again, your own now being blank and receptive. “Outside of the dungeon, you mean?”

He nodded. Your expression shifted to become more unsure, but only slightly.

“And how do I know you’ll come back?”

Perhaps just to give you a taste of your own medicine, Chilchuck grinned softly, deciding to throw your own words back in your face like you’d done to him.

“I thought you knew that you were always my favorite.”

All that and more, really. One day, he’d be able to tell you all about it.

six - after the dungeon

You’d often catch your lover slumped over at the counter of the shop after it closed. One of your favorite things to do was come up behind him and put your hands on his shoulders. Sometimes he’d be too lost in his thoughts to notice you and be startled by your sudden appearance. Tonight, however, he merely sighed and relaxed into your touch.

“Hard day today?” When he groaned in response, you had to suppress a giggle. That man really could be such a drama queen sometimes.

“How could you tell?” His question, unlike yours, was laced with sarcasm. Eventually, he lifted up his head and twisted his torso to look at you. “Had a fair amount of house calls today. Kahka Brud is a nice place to live and all, but I’d rather not be running around it at my age.”

“Yes, yes, you poor thing.”

“Hey!” His exclamation in conjunction with his pout sent you into a fit of hushed laughter.

Wiping a tear from your eye, you continued, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just teasing. One of these days you really ought to hire someone else to split the workload. When Mei’s in the area, we can certainly ask you about it.”

Chilchuck acknowledged your advice with a hum, but didn’t respond, instead choosing to fully turn around and put his hands on your sides.

“Mhm, I’ll get to that later.” His voice slurred from tiredness. “Right now, I just missed you.”

Your lover’s blunt declarations of missing you never failed to make you feel warm and fuzzy inside. In fact, you were about to return the sentiment in kind, but didn’t get the chance before the half-foot lurched his body forward to close the space between you.

His mouth was lax against yours, and his tongue lazily poked through the gap, not stretching the inside of your mouth, but merely resting as if it belonged there. It was a lazy kiss, but one full of warmth and a true sense of… home, really.

No mind was paid to the string of saliva left by him as you withdrew, all you could say being a quiet “I missed you too.”

After all, your faces didn’t stay apart for too long after that.

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 23: Comfort/Crying

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Comfort/Crying (🌼)

Summary: You’ve had a shitty couple of months, trying to hold on for the sake of everyone around you, but you can only take so much…

Warnings: Angst, crying, slight allusions to depression, self-loathing, hurt/comfort, not proof-read

Word Count: 982

A/n: This prompt hits differently now than it would have when I intended to post it, but now it also comes at the right time because I do feel like we have all cried a lot lately. I know I have, and I could use some good old Matty comfort right about now. Like, a hug would be enough.

Read Me On AO3! (coming soon)

You’re tired. 

You’re so tired.

Life has had quite the habit of beating you down lately, and you are so exhausted you just want to disappear. You are expected to function, but how can you when you’re already falling apart?

“Hey,” Matt says softly from the doorway. “You okay?”

You don’t look up from the onions you’re cutting. He just got home from court; the last thing he wants is to listen to you bitch and moan about what a shitty month you’ve had. 

You have to function because there are people who depend on you. If you’re not strong for him, what is the point? In your mind, at least, that makes sense, twisted as it may be—and it is incredibly twisted.

“Yeah,” you lie. “Just… making dinner.”

The vegetable’s gases burn in your eyes. You’re shaking, but that must be all the caffeine you had after yet another sleepless night. Matt is gone so much, during the day as this kindhearted lawyer who fights for the rights of the innocent, and at night as Daredevil, he doesn’t know how you keep tossing and turning when he’s not there. You can’t blame him for having his own shit to deal with; he’s a good boyfriend, and you love him to pieces, but you can’t talk to him. 

You don’t want him to worry because you know he would burn the world down if it meant you could be free of all this pain. He would find a way to exorcize the hell out of the demons in your head, wrap you in cotton, and keep you safe from the storm raging outside. He would let go of everything just to be with you, and you refuse to let yourself be this fucking selfish. Because people depend on him, too. 

But oh, you are truly falling apart at the seams. Too much to feel, too much to think about—it is a painful weight on your chest threatening to crush you. There is no reason behind it, just a myriad of disasters balled into one, and the avalanche is about to take you away. 

Matt reaches out, fingers brushing your shoulder. “You sure?” he asks. 

You swallow the lump in your throat. 

“You’re crying.”

“It’s the onions,” you say. “The, uh, fumes…”

“Okay.” 

He doesn’t have to acknowledge the fact that you’re crying to know something is wrong with you. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you flush against his chest. 

He’s your sanctuary. 

His hand hovers over the one holding the knife.  “Let go,” he says. “Let go…” 

Your fingers loosen around the handle. Matt catches it, wasting no time to place it aside before you can hurt yourself on the sharp edge of its blade. His voice is a mere breath against your heated temple. “That’s it. It’s okay.”

You can barely breathe, your arms flailing around helplessly. Matt doesn’t dare let go of you, afraid you might fall apart if he loosens his hold, so he squeezes his arms around you until you are enveloped in a cocoon of him, and the world outside disappears.

He shushes in your ear. Gentle whispers of, ‘You’re okay. I’ve got you,’ course through your veins like a balm for your weary soul. You’ve been holding on for the sake of the people around you for too long; it rolls over you like a boulder. You can no longer stop it. 

His hands find yours, intertwining your fingers as he presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Let it out,” he says. 

The tears run down your cheek in an endless flood. It’s ugly, messy, and feels like too much, but Matt doesn’t pull away. He stands there, absorbing every bit of it, trying to work as a sponge to soak up what’s hurting you. He would rather have you take the pain out on him than suffer through any of this alone.

When you finally manage to suck in a deep, shuddering breath, you’re exhausted—wrung out. Wrecked. But there is a sudden emptiness where the crushing weight of the world on your shoulders used to be. 

You finally lift your head, tearful eyes staring back into his. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

He shushes you. “You needed to cry. It’s okay.”

You whimper at the tenderness in his voice. 

“It’s okay to lean on me.” He turns you around to him, pressing your face into his chest. “Just promise me you’ll come to me next time.” A kiss melts against your temple. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

A sharp breath burns the tender flesh of your lungs. “No, I–” you stammer. “I have t–”

He cuts you off, his own voice on the verge of breaking. “You don’t. You’re not alone, sweetheart. Not anymore.”

The dam might be breaking, but he is right there to pick up the pieces before they can get lost in the current with the shards of your broken heart. He patches you up the only way he knows how: with his hands and silent declarations of his undying love. 

And it really is undying, you realize. He loves you when you’re put together, and he loves you when you’re broken. He loves you without a doubt or second thought. He loves you unconditionally, wholly, and he would go to the ends of the earth for you. 

You’re not alone. You might have been once, but not since you met him. Not since he walked into your life and turned it all upside-down. 

You filled each other’s empty hearts like it was the only thing to do.

You don’t have to deal with these demons on your own anymore because Matt will always be there for you, no matter how much you loathe your miserable self. He will always be there to pick up the pieces, and you will never have to be alone again.

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @ravenclaw617 @lucienofthelakes @steve-chandler

[merakiui]

maybe, i'm afraid.

azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: slight angst, nsfw, azul bottles his feelings and is insecure note - happy birthday to my favorite tako in the whole world. <3 may you have wonderful days forever!! // loosely inspired by lovelytheband's "maybe, i'm afraid."

i. spring - dancing in your party dress, you were singing me some frank sinatra as you wept. pull me close enough. it seems like we lost touch, so hold me as the record skips.

“Can you believe we’re gonna be fourth years?!” Kalim exclaims with wide, sparkling eyes. They look like twin garnets set into his face—polished jewels having caught the aquatic illumination from Mostro Lounge’s aquarium. “Time really does fly, huh!”

“Feels like yesterday,” Ruggie agrees around a mouthful of food. His plate is stacked as high as it can possibly get, piled with contrasting flavors. “Pretty crazy to think we’re all gonna be heading off in different directions soon.”

Jade nods. “Our school lives are as fun as they are fleeting.”

An odd quiet falls over the three of them, which is soon broken when Floyd drapes himself over the booth. He leans down to swipe a sliver from Jade’s plate. “Whatcha talkin’ about?”

“Just reminiscing.”

“Ah. S’bout that time, ain’t it? Gettin’ sentimental in the spring.”

“Makes sense. The semester’s ending and people are starting up their internships or going home. Really makes you think…”

Ruggie gazes at the group huddled near the bar. Riddle, Jamil, and a half-awake Silver chat alongside you and Azul. You seem to be in the middle of a riveting story, for your arms gesticulate wildly. Azul looks on with what Ruggie thinks is the most mushy-gushy, ooey-gooey smile he’s ever seen.

“We’re gonna come back in the winter, aren’t we?” Kalim asks, tilting his head.

“Indeed. For the cultural festival.”

“Yeah, that’s right! It’ll be fun to see you guys after so much time apart. Oh, we should all keep in touch! That way it’ll feel like no time has passed at all.”

“Perhaps not for us.” Jade follows Ruggie’s line of sight, landing on one person in particular. “For others, the gap is cavernous.”

“What do you mean, Jade?”

Floyd catches on then. “S’not our fault he’s not sayin’ anything.”

Ruggie shrugs. “It doesn’t concern me.” He pops up from his spot in the booth, grinning. “It’s been great and all, but I’ve gotta get my fill. Wouldn’t be right for a guy to skimp out when it’s Azul hosting.”

Giggling, Floyd waves him off. “You do that, Sharksucker.”

Kalim turns to the twins, brows raised. “You’re talking about Azul?”

“He’s been swept up in Shrimpy ever since. It’s been—how long now?—about two years or something.”

“Oh.” Kalim blinks back at him, slow on the uptake. And then, seconds later, it hits him. “Ohhh! He likes (Name)!”

“There ya go.”

“I’m afraid he’s yet to confess,” Jade adds around a bite of cake. “You should see the plans he’s drafted. Dozens of them, in fact. Each one is… Oh, perhaps I’ve said too much already.”

“I don’t get it. If he likes (Name) so much, why wouldn’t he just confess? Why make plans?”

“Wow, Sea Otter, you don’t play when it comes to feelings, do ya?”

“If it was me, I’d want everyone to know how much I care about someone.” To demonstrate this point, he cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “You’re the best, (Name)!”

You glance past a now wide-awake Silver at the twins and Kalim. Mirroring his actions, you reply in a giggly voice, “Thanks! You’re great, too, Kalim!”

Beaming, he says, “See? It’s not so difficult. If Azul needs any help, I’d be happy to—”

Floyd throws his head back and cackles like a madman. “Not so difficult for you!”

Jade masks his amusement behind a gloved fist. “My, my. I think I’ve just witnessed the very soul drain from Azul’s eyes. You have quite the talent, Kalim.”

Kalim doesn’t hear the underlying meaning or the backhanded barb in his statement. “He’s got time, doesn’t he?”

“That’s what he keeps saying. But deep down he knows.” Floyd watches Azul hurry to recover his composure before anyone can notice. “He’s leaving for his internship after school’s over and then graduation’s next spring. He’s running out of time.”

“Does (Name) like him? Maybe she’ll confess before he does!”

“That’s just it. He doesn’t know what Shrimpy feels for him. Been driving himself crazy all school year tryin’ to figure that one out.”

“I suspect he’s grown excessively cautious as a result of his fear of rejection,” Jade explains, dragging his fork through the buttercream smeared on his plate.

“But if he confesses now and she doesn’t feel the same, he’ll have all summer to recover.” Kalim turns his stare on you next. “(Name)’s always been nice. I’m sure she wouldn’t shatter his heart.”

“When you’re Azul, even the tiniest push is enough.” 

“Really? But he’s always so strong!”

Jade hums. “Three hearts are quite the boon-burden.”

“Only makes lovin’ someone that much worse. Cuz then you’re lovin’ ’em three times as much.”

“Isn’t that good? I think it’s sweet Azul cares about (Name) so much.”

“Sweet…” Jade shares a look with Floyd. Something unspoken passes between them. “Yes, I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“Azul thinks it’s a pain in the ass. Throws him off his course and he loooves bein’ on his course.” 

Kalim stares a moment longer. “Maybe he needs a push in the right direction.”

“Liquid courage works wonders—”

“—or gives way to woe.”

“Nothing like that.” He doesn’t elaborate further, instead getting up and padding over to the bar with a cheerful bounce in his steps. “Hey, everyone, let’s take a picture!”

Riddle welcomes him with a warm smile. “Ah, hello there, Kalim.”

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Jamil comments, arms folding across his chest. Which, arguably, is worse because it can only spell trouble should Kalim find himself inspired.

“Way ahead of you!” You hold your Ghost Camera up, turning the lens on Kalim. Lighting up like the very sun in the sky, he poses just as you snap a photo. It takes a few moments for it to develop, but once it does you hand it over to him for his perusal. “Looking good as always.”

“Aww, thanks! Okay, your turn next! Let’s get a big group photo and then individual photos.” With the camera now in his possession, Kalim’s free to fidget with it as he pleases. “Ooh, this is neat!”

“Careful with that!” Jamil bounds forward just in case. “The Headmage gave that to (Name). Don’t break it.”

“I won’t,” Kalim promises, holding it up to capture you and Jamil in its sight. “I think I’ve got it! Everyone, group up! Picture time!”

There’s lots of fumbling. An argument about height breaks out. Floyd pokes fun at Riddle for having to stand in front to account for his height. Riddle fumes, red with anger, and stomps his foot indignantly—all while insisting he’s still growing. You offer to stand beside him, but he hisses at you like a cat: “Don’t patronize me! I’m of perfect, healthy stature for someone my age!”

Kalim looks on from behind the camera. “Actually, can we get (Name) and Azul together first?”

Azul, who had been in the process of adding to the joke with a comment of his own, hesitates. He peers at Kalim, his walls rising. “Me?”

“Yeah! Only fair to put you front and center. You’re the host, after all!”

“Ah, right. Of course. But then—”

“Why me?” you ask, confused. “If anything, I should stay out of the picture. I’m not a third year like the rest of you.”

Kalim gasps, scandalized. “We can’t do that! It doesn’t matter what year you are. You’re still our friend, and parties are for everyone to enjoy.”

“Doesn’t that throw off the original plan?” Ruggie wonders, munching on a frosted donut.

“Kalim, we need to account for height. Riddle can’t stand in the back.” Jamil glances apologetically at Riddle. “That’s just the reality of it.”

Riddle huffs, refusing to dignify that with a response.

“I’ll stand in the front,” Silver offers.

“What? No, that’s not the issue here, Silver.”

“It’s not? I thought we were picking who stands beside (Name).”

“Ooh, I wanna stand with Shrimpy!” Floyd wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your head. “C’mon, Sea Otter, take our pic!”

Jamil sighs. “All of you…”

“Shall we take individual photos with (Name) first?” Jade suggests, smiling placidly at Kalim.

This time the message is received loud and clear. “Oh, great idea, Jade! Azul and (Name), could you stand next to each other?”

The group disperses to allow you and Azul to do just that. Rigidly, Azul steps closer. He keeps a healthy distance between your bodies, one Jade picks up on right away.

“Please smile and pretend like you love each other,” he instructs, to which Azul flusters.

“W-What? Jade, that’s—”

“C’mere, Ashengrotto! I don’t bite!”

With a joyous laugh, you wrap your arm around Azul’s waist and drag him in close. He stumbles, flushed in the face, just as the camera flashes. The corresponding photo slides out next, blank for a while. Eventually, the image begins to show up with striking clarity.

“How’s it look? Great, right?” As soon as it happened, it’s gone—your warmth. The comfort of being held. Azul almost pursues you when you release him from your grasp and move towards Kalim to inspect the photo. Thankfully, he catches himself. “Hey, this is nice! Good job.”

You and Kalim share a high-five.

“Me next, Sea Otter!” Floyd crowds in, baring his pointed teeth in an unruly grin.

With everyone’s attention on you, Kalim, and the camera, Azul’s left to stand behind in silence. Anticipating the rainless deluge, Jade lingers within earshot.

“I know,” he mutters in a brittle tone. “Don’t say a word.”

“Not a peep. Although if I may share just a tiny tidbit… Kalim offered some very helpful advice. You may want to hear it.”

Azul stares at him, stunned. “You told Kalim?”

“Not directly, no. It was implied.” Jade averts his mismatched eyes on purpose. “More or less.”

“I should’ve made you and Floyd sign NDAs…”

“Is it really so sensitive?”

“Yes! Yes, of course it is!” Azul deflates with a sigh, looking on mournfully. You’re trying to snatch the camera from Floyd’s hands. He holds it up and out of reach, laughing raucously. “What did he say?”

“If you confess now, you’ll have the entire summer to mend your tattered heart.”

Azul barks out a short, hollow laugh. “In an ideal world, that’s easy.”

“You’re making it more difficult than it needs to be.” Jade issues an encouraging smile. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Are you seriously asking that?”

“It’s just something to consider.”

A minute ticks between them. Jade watches the scene alongside Azul, delighting in distant chaos.

“I’m afraid, Jade,” he admits quietly, the confession as soft and fragile as a single breath. “She’s everything and I’m…nothing.”

Jade frowns in disagreement.

“I’ve looked at it from every conceivable angle. There isn’t any calculated risk to be made—no potential profit or success to be had.”

“Are you certain?”

“Very.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to get it off your chest. We have a few weeks left before the break. If not your heart, perhaps you could establish a means to communicate?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt… For the sake of networking—”

Jade chuckles. “Networking? Is that it?”

Azul scowls. “You’re awfully irritating tonight.”

“I’m not the one with his tentacles tied, hopelessly infatuated.” 

“You—”

“(Name), there’s something Azul would like to tell you,” Jade announces, and you turn to look at him.

Azul thinks he should just go ahead and die right there. Is it possible to spontaneously combust if he thinks about it long enough? Is such a phenomenon magic? All he needs to do is visualize it and then the spark will catch and—

“Yeah? What’s up, Azul?”

Azul flounders, his concentration broken. Like he’s done so many times in the past, he plasters his trademark smirk-grin on and falls into the shoes of the sleazy conman. “If you ever find yourself in need of study materials even after I’ve graduated, do not hesitate to contact me and I—”

You laugh. “I think I’ll be good. Thanks, though.”

With withering confidence, he chuckles. “I could give you quite the deal. You’d be missing out…”

You roll your eyes, unconvinced.

Jade—annoying, asshole Jade—brushes past, smooth as sea glass. “I shall take my leave, but please continue your chat. I believe there’s a camera waiting to capture the memory of me.”

Now it’s just you and Azul. He clears his throat, suddenly awkward.

“(Name), I—”

“Azul—”

“Oh.” He stares at you, a smile twitching on his lips. “You first.”

“No, no, you spoke before me.”

“Ah. Well…”

If you confess now, you’ll have the entire summer to mend your tattered heart. As if a love that’s been flowering for two years could possibly be resolved within the span of a few months.

He tries again even though it’s not what he really wants to say. “I do hope you’ll have a pleasant summer.”

“You as well.” You nudge him. “Kick ass at your internship.”

“I intend to.” Right. Internship. Work. Business. He can hold a normal conversation if that’s the topic. “And you? Do you plan to stay here?”

“Yeah. Crowley’s letting Grim and me live on campus since we don’t have anywhere else to go. I’ll work part-time in Craneport. Summer is a great season for tourism, but I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

Azul laughs. “If it’s a family, they may spend more on kid’s menus for the novelty of it all. Be sure to talk it up to truly sell it. All children deserve to know the magic of a seasonal menu, do they not? Food in fun shapes. Fairy tales and sparkles. All of that razzmatazz. It’s the experience they’re paying for, after all.”

“Is that advice free?”

“Is it?”

“Fine, fine.” You dig through your pocket and hand him the photo from earlier. “Your payment, good sir. A memento of me.”

Azul takes it from you, admires your effortlessly pretty smile, and then freezes. “Oh, I look positively dreadful!”

“Not at all. It adds character.”

“A horrid sort of character.”

You sidle up beside him, peering at the picture. “I like it. It’s a photo of an imperfect Azul.”

“What an ambiguous compliment.”

“I’m serious! It’s Azul when he’s not acting. I like imperfect Azul. He’s authentic. A real person.” You pat him on the shoulder. He stiffens, betraying his initial nonchalance. “Or maybe not. One day I’ll catch you off guard.”

“We’ll see.”

“One day…” Your attention is stolen when you catch sight of the group attempting to bunch together for a selfie. Offering Azul that same smile he’s admired ever since he saw it, you add, “Have a fun summer. Don’t be a stranger next year, okay?” And then you’re bounding across the lounge. “Wait for me! I want in, too!”

For the rest of the semester, Azul keeps the photo tucked away in his phone case.

I have time to mull over the pros and cons, he tells himself when he departs through the mirror, summer break at his fingertips.

ii. summer - maybe i’m just too good. maybe i’ll run away. maybe i’m over you. maybe i shouldn’t stay. maybe i just don’t care. maybe i talk too much.

It occurs to you, while sorting through the photos you’ve taken throughout this past school year, that there’s an absurd amount of Azul. Whether on his own or with others, he appears in more photos than anyone else. You wonder how that happened—how you managed to be there for so many of his moments, each one documented in photographic permanence.

Some of them are humorous. Azul looking unimpressed when you lifted your camera to capture him. Grim jumping into his arms to demand snacks. His glasses sitting crooked on his face. Some of them are endearing. Azul reading in a comfortable nook in the library. Azul smiling fondly at the lens during an alchemy lesson. Azul laughing after you cracked a joke during PE. Some of them are animated. Azul waving at you from across the courtyard. Azul rolling his eyes at a dull pun. Azul playfully blowing a kiss to the camera after you told him to do something memorable. Some are special. Azul in his birthday robes. Azul during that time Mostro Lounge became a butler café for one week. Azul on his last day of the semester, leveling the camera with a roguish smirk.

This one—the most recent and last photo taken of him—is especially important. It’s the conversation that prompted an unforgettable expression that fills you with butterflies whenever you recall it.

“I think you’ll miss me,” you told him, elbowing him for good measure.

“I think I will,” he replied, his lips curling.

Unequipped to deliver a witty retort, you could only gawk.

“Don’t tell me that’s all it takes to shock you into silence.” He chuckled, and there was that infamous smirk-grin—sitting so perfectly on his face, as if it was meant to be there for this very exchange. “You’re too easy, (Name). Where’s the challenge?”

Wordlessly, you raised your Ghost Camera and snapped his picture.

There are so many facets to his person that you’ve managed to catch on your camera—complex layers you wouldn’t have otherwise witnessed if you hadn’t spent so much time around him.

Now you realize why you have an abundance of Azul photos.

We sure hung out a lot this year, and every time I had my camera…

Is he your muse? Is he just naturally photogenic? He fits into plenty of backgrounds, but it’s never the scenery that fascinates and bewitches. It’s always his expression, his body language, his emotions. And the reason all of these photos are so important is because this is an Azul who is comfortable enough to show these sides to you. An Azul who wants you to document his best and his worst, his beautiful and his ugly, his silly and his serious.

Sitting at your desk, thumbing through stacks of photos, you know he’s more than a muse. As you watch Azul move in various pictures, you wonder what he’s doing. It’s only a month into summer, but everything feels so slow. Campus has cleared out, and with it the lounge has closed for the season. You’re certain he still has his ways of making profit and spreading word of its wonders. Azul isn’t foolish. He’s always working an angle. Endlessly clever and stubbornly ambitious.

Does he miss me, too? you think, running your finger over his smiling face. Or was that just something he said to get a reaction?

Just then, a gut-wrenching thought lodges itself deep: Are we even friends? What if he thinks I’m a nuisance? Maybe he’s just tolerating me and all this time I’ve been delusional.

You glimpse the photos again, watching Azul laugh soundlessly in an animated loop. What am I to you, Azul?

As if on cue, having sensed your sadness, arms wrap around you from behind. For a second you think it’s Grim, but then you see distinctly human hands clasping together. You whirl, startled out of your skin, to find Azul Ashengrotto standing there.

“Wha… What?”

He’s…here. Azul is standing in your bedroom.

You blink once and he remains. You blink twice and he’s still there, gazing down at you with soft, smiling features.

“Hello to you as well.”

“Hey…?” You pat his cheek and flinch away. “Oh, you’re real!”

“Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?” Chuckling, he withdraws and moves to stand at your deskside. “I’m wounded. To think you would forget me just like that. And I thought I was plenty memorable.” He blows you a mock kiss then, and that’s when it finally strikes you.

This isn’t your Azul. This is an Azul from your photos.

How is this even possible? you think, scrambling to find which picture—which memory—he’s from. In doing so, you remember a particularly unique fact about the Ghost Camera. It’s a magical device that allows a photographer to capture slivers of their subject’s soul, which gives way to a special sort of connection known as a soulbond. The deeper the bond, the more likely the person in the photographs is to take on animation and, in some cases, slip out of the image that contains them.

So this is Azul from the time at which he was last photographed, you determine, holding up pictures to match his corporeal likeness to that of the scenery. The Ghost Camera is so cool…

“I missed you, you know.”

“Did you now?” He leans in close, curious. “How much?”

You push him away with a weak scoff. This isn’t good for your heart. Any closer and you might say something you’ll come to regret.

“Not as much as you think.”

“Is that so?” His gaze pans over to the pile of photos on your desk. “And these photos are simply here for convenience?”

“D-Don’t worry about it! Summer project. You wouldn’t get it.”

He flashes his teeth at you in a bright, competitive grin. “Try me.”

“You’re so nosy. Don’t you get tired of prying?”

“Not in the slightest.” He leans against the desk, his arms folding casually over his chest. “That’s besides the point. You’re avoiding the subject at hand.”

You turn in your chair and open your mouth to reply—why are you so invested in this?—but a better idea crops up. Meeting his cerulean stare with fierce, fiery eyes, you challenge him: “If it matters so much to you, I could be convinced to share my plans for the small price of one kiss. A real kiss. Not that fake one from before.”

Azul blinks back at you, a smirk crawling onto his face. “Is that all you desire?”

“What do you mean by—”

Your question is cut off when another set of arms embraces you from behind. Warm, soft lips press against your cheek; his breath tickles your ear.

“Are two not better than one?”

With a yelp, you jerk back so fast that you almost fall out of your chair. Standing there, looking very proud of himself, is another Azul. But this one, unlike Dorm Azul, is dressed in his school uniform. A very helpful distinction.

“D-Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

It’s the only coherent sentence you can manage. Your mind is a panicked muddle: I can’t believe it. Two Azuls. Am I dreaming? This is definitely a dream, right? There’s no way he’d kiss me on the…

You slap your hand over your cheek, gasping. “Y-You kissed me?!”

“Is that not the price you wanted me to pay?” School Azul asks, one brow raised as if daring you to deny that fact.

Dorm Azul’s fingers curl under your chin, guiding your gaze towards him. “Unless you’d like to raise the price…”

You swallow thickly. This can’t be happening.

“Of course, in raising the price, it’s expected you raise the value of the information you’re willing to divulge,” School Azul adds with a chuckle. “Is that not fair?”

You shrink under both of their insistent stares. “W-Why do you even wanna know?”

“Why not? Any information is good information so long as it’s useful.”

You scoff, but it comes out choked and shy. “I… I’m going to use these photos to put together a present for you. I know your birthday’s so far away, but I’m getting a head start.”

“And this present would entail…?”

You click your tongue at him. “I already paid my half for that kiss. No more.”

“Aah, is that right?” Dorm Azul leans in, kissing dangerously close to your lips. You reach up to touch the corner of your mouth after he’s pulled away. “How much for the full story?”

“How much are you willing to pay?”

School Azul rests his chin on your shoulder. His hands settle on your waist, pulling you up from your seat. This proximity allows you to feel his hair as it brushes against your face. Dorm Azul closes the distance as if it’s second nature, and now you’re sandwiched between the both of them.

Your heart stumbles in your chest. He’s quite literally surrounding you, but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“A very valid question.” Dorm Azul glances coyly at School Azul. “What do you think, Me?”

“Will we be enough for you, (Name)?” he purrs, rubbing slow circles into your hips.

You’re dizzy in their arms, your entire body warming with anticipation and embarrassment alike. Is it okay to be selfish? Even though this isn’t technically Azul—just mere memories of him—it seems so real. He’s holding you, touching you, reaching for you…

“Hmm. Two does seem to be a bit much.”

“Let’s call it a holiday and say it’s seasonal spoiling.”

“A gift for the summer.”

“Do open the window to let in the breeze. The heat is prone to making one feel rather…stuffy.”

They’re doing this on purpose. Maybe another Azul is more troublesome than I once thought. I can only handle so much charm!

Shrugging off self-doubt, you grab Dorm Azul by his lapels and yank him towards you, sealing the space that once separated your mouths in a hungry kiss. He melts against you, eyes fluttering shut. It’s quick and starved, the way you chase each other’s lips. You cling to him before you can fall, arms looped around his neck to keep him near.

Fully clothed and achingly desperate, you loathe the unbearable heat, but nothing is more molten than the space between your thighs.

Meanwhile, School Azul takes his sweet time running his hands along your sides, up the length of your body until he reaches your chest. With his form pinned to yours, you can feel his erection pressing against your ass. Rather shamelessly, he rolls his hips. You’re pushed up against Dorm Azul next, who takes hold of your hand and guides it to the strain in his slacks. He pulls away briefly to allow School Azul to slide your shirt up and over your head.

“Were you anticipating this?” he whispers, taking hold of your breasts.

“No way,” you protest between kisses. “Not… No. K-Keep dreaming. It’s too much trouble to wear one in the summer. Gets hot and—”

Dorm Azul captures your lips in another ravenous smooch, and the objection dies in your throat.

“There’s no need for these pesky articles where I’m from,” School Azul murmurs. He presses kisses into your bare shoulder, humming his very obvious delight. “You’d have already been laid out beneath me if that were the case… Soft and sweet, all mine to love at the bottom of the sea…”

“Humans have so many steps,” Dorm Azul laments, tutting.

“And merfolk don’t?” You try to sound smart with your question, but it comes out breathless when your nipple’s twisted between two fingers. “Oh…”

“Not when it comes to clothing. The very concept doesn’t exist beneath the waves.”

“You could visit sometime and see for yourself. I’ll welcome you with open arms.” Dorm Azul rests his forehead against yours. “And maybe then you’ll find yourself so taken with my home that you’ll want to stay.”

“A tempting offer.”

“But?” he prompts, his gaze falling to your hand as you palm him through his pants. He inhales a shaky breath.

“What’s stopping you?” the other Azul asks, his voice muffled in your skin.

“Firstly, I’m not a mer.”

“My dear, that’s nothing. Have you forgotten my proficiency in potionology?”

“And how much will one of your potions cost? I’d love to visit, but if it’s going to bankrupt me—”

“For you, a single kiss is all I require.”

“Isn’t that awfully cheap?”

Dorm Azul chuckles at this back-and-forth. “You say that as if you want me to charge an exorbitant amount.”

Glaring, you squeeze him out of revenge. His laughter comes out choked next, replaced with a needy whimper. Unbelievable.

“Maybe I do.”

“I would be careful with those words, dearest. I might take them to heart.”

He ruts against your hand, panting into your mouth. The kiss is sloppy and wet, all tongue and saliva. You move on instinct, grabbing at his shoulders when you’re taken to bed next. Both Azuls peer down at you from where they kneel on either side of you. They issue you hazy, lust-drunk smiles. Hands wander, feeling every inch you have to offer. You shut your eyes and submit to titillating touches.

“You really did miss me,” School Azul remarks when his fingers slip into your shorts to rub you through your sodden panties. Your breath hitches, a strangled whine squeezed from your throat, and he laughs. “I missed you, too.”

“I really like you,” you blurt, chest heaving with your every breath. He squeezes your clit to draw another sinful groan from you. “I think—Azul, you’re so—I think you’re so amazing… I wish we talked more. The year—aah… It went by so fast.”

“It did, didn’t it?”

“I wanna know you—the real you. I wanna know what Azul’s like when he’s comfortable and when he’s sad and when he’s happy. I wanna—ooh! Please… Please, Azul…” You grab fistfuls of the sheets, arching up towards the hands that caress your stomach lovingly. “I just want you.”

“And you’ll have me,” he—you’re not sure which—promises, leaning over to kiss you. It’s soulful passion, lust bleeding into love. Your cries are lost on his lips when you come undone beneath him, buoyant on a mellow wave.

You sense the loss before you see it.

Half-nude and gasping for breath, you stare up at the ceiling. Your bedroom is empty. All that remains of the Azuls are the animated memories imprinted on the photographs.

“I’m losing my mind…” you mutter, draping your arm over your eyes.

Please let summer pass quickly.

iii. winter - maybe all we are is fools with hearts that tried too hard. and maybe that’s just fine as long as you’re here in my arms.

Azul paces restlessly in his VIP room. It’s been months since he’s seen you, but his heart hasn’t swayed in the slightest. If anything, he’s only grown fonder in the time spent apart. Absence… What a bothersome thing.

“You’re gonna walk yourself into the floor, y’know. Your shoes’ll be all worn out by the time you’re done.”

“I’m aware,” Azul quips, uncharacteristically jittery. He turns towards Floyd. “Do I look presentable? Is anything crooked or misplaced? How about my hair?”

“You’re fine.” At Azul’s disbelieving glower, Floyd pouts. “I mean it. Shrimpy’s gonna like it either way.”

He bristles, defensive. “Who said anything about (Name)?”

“No one, but you’re thinkin’ it.”

“I… T-That’s besides the point! It doesn’t matter. She’s only here because I invited her. Common courtesy and all that.”

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

Azul frowns at the vault set into the wall behind his desk. If only he could pack all of his fears in there and lock them away for good. Then he could continue masquerading as someone fearless and confident. With winter having descended upon campus, bringing with it layers of fluffy, glittering snow, and the cultural festival having concluded successfully, Azul finds himself lost.

This is the last birthday he’ll celebrate at Night Raven College and, subsequently, the last February he’ll spend with you. He’s running out of time.

“Invitation or not, Shrimpy’ll always wish you a happy birthday. S’not like her to forget. Plus, she cares about ya.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

Azul’s tone is so sharp that Floyd raises his hands in defense. “Guess not.”

“What would you do?” He inhales a wobbly breath. “If you were in my shoes…”

Floyd scratches the back of his neck, contemplative. “Dunno. Guess I’d wait for the right moment and say somethin’ to get it outta my system.”

Azul sighs. “Jade said something similar.”

“He ain’t wrong.”

“I’m not prepared.”

“No one is.” Floyd smiles at Azul’s baffled expression. “C’mon, Azul, you can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to. S’just how it is.”

“Even so, it’s better to know all viable routes and options before diving into uncharted waters.”

“That’s just it. You can’t know. S’kinda the whole point, ain’t it?”

“I can’t do it,” he decides, the words heavy on his tongue. “I’d rather accept my future failure now than continue working towards it.”

“Like a coward.”

“Far from it! In business, that’s known as rescission. It is a completely valid method of—”

“You ever realize your feelings and business are two separate things? Not everything’s gotta be about business.”

Azul stands there, nonplussed.

Floyd makes for the door, stopping only to add, “Your fly’s unzipped, by the way.”

“You—” He scrambles to check. Much to his relief, it’s not. “Honestly… That’s not even funny.”

He smooths nonexistent wrinkles, schools his expression into something brave, and exhales slowly. I’m not going to ruin an occasion as grand as this with a half-baked confession.

Having made up his mind, he steps through the door out into the bustling lounge. Like clockwork, all eyes turn to him. He searches the crowd for you, hopeful. But before he can locate you, party poppers resound with a loud bang. Confetti trickles down like colorful rainfall, landing on his suit and getting stuck in his hair.

“Happy birthday, Azul!”

He wants to run and hide. He wants to dive into the sea and seek solace in his favorite octopus pot. He wants to bury himself in the sand and disappear.

Instead, he smiles and spreads his arms like he’s just pulled off an astounding magic trick. “Why, thank you, everyone! I’m pleased you could make it. Do enjoy yourselves to the fullest tonight.”

Cheers erupt amongst the partygoers, but they might as well be on a completely different island. Azul turns, hoping to make his rounds and escape, but Kalim intercepts him. Jamil isn’t far behind.

“Azul, happy birthday!” Kalim smiles just as Jamil catches up.

He passes two expertly wrapped gifts into Azul’s empty hands. “On behalf of Kalim and myself, thank you for the invitation.”

“Yeah, super thanks! It’s been so much fun. I hope you’ll like your gift, but if you don’t just let me know and I’ll get you something else. Whatever you want! You deserve it on your special day.”

Azul looks past him, not in the mood to entertain. “Yes, of course. It’s not a problem.”

Jamil raises a brow, but then it clicks. “(Name) wanted me to pass on her regards.”

As expected, that draws his attention. “Why’s that?”

“She wasn’t sure if she’d get to see you on your big, busy day.” Jamil eyes Azul knowingly.

Kalim nods. “We ran into her on the way here, but she said to go on without her.”

Azul doesn’t like the way they’re both looking at him—as if they’re in on some joke he’s not currently aware of.

“Well,” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “her regards are well-received.”

“You’re not going to meet her?”

“It’s my big, busy day, isn’t it? I’m afraid she’ll have to catch me at her earliest convenience.” Azul, gifts in hand, smiles. “Please do enjoy the party, you two. Thank you again for your thoughtful gifts and birthday wishes.”

On his way to the table designed for gifts, Azul spots Riddle, Silver, and Ruggie. They stand off to the side, chatting amongst themselves. He supposes, if anything, he might as well say hello. Setting the gifts down, Azul struts over.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I do hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”

“You know it. Parties at Octavinelle are always somethin’ else,” Ruggie says. Unsurprisingly, he’s done well to fix himself a plate and more. With him around Azul doesn’t have to fret over food waste.

“Your presentation at the cultural festival was very informative, if I may say so,” Riddle commends, sipping his fizzy beverage.

“As was yours.” Azul’s smile tightens. For some reason, he’s always felt the need to walk on eggshells around Riddle. And for good reason, too! Whatever Azul seems to accomplish, no matter how lofty a feat, Riddle seems to do better. “I’m sure you’ve had quite the rewarding experience yourself.”

“Indeed.”

“It’s good timing,” Silver notes, and all eyes drift towards him. Azul perks up. Timing. He needs more of that. “Your birthday came right after the festival. It’s almost like celebrating your hard work and another healthy year all in one.”

“Never thought about it that way. Guess it makes sense when you put it like that.” Ruggie grins cheekily. “Lucky you, Azul.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck. The dates just happened to align… Either way, thank you, Silver. I’m pleased you can look at it with such inspiring positivity.”

“You catch up with (Name) yet?”

“No? Am I meant to?”

“Just asking.” Ruggie shrugs. “She had me run a few errands for her yesterday. Said it was all for your sake, but when I tried to get more info outta her she told me I’d have to wait for ‘the big reveal’—whatever that is.”

Now everyone’s looking at him. Azul feels small.

“With how often I’ve heard her name tonight, I’d think she’s the one with the birthday.”

“Is she really so popular today? Odd. I haven’t had the chance to greet her,” Riddle muses.

“I thought I saw her this afternoon.” Silver furrows his brow, uncertain. “She seems busy.”

“Which is precisely why I can’t fathom the insistence that I ought to have met with her already.”

Ruggie tilts his head. “That the only reason?”

Just how many people are in on this asinine joke? More importantly, which eel is he going to have to wring out for spilling a not-so-secret secret?

Azul realizes his mask is slipping and so he repairs it expertly. If Ruggie takes notice of this, he doesn’t say anything. “It’s bad manners to show up late to a party. I’m sure one of us will agree.”

Riddle nods, but his words are surprisingly lenient. “Life happens. I suppose we can’t fault (Name) entirely.”

“She’ll make it. I’m sure she will. Don’t worry, Azul,” Silver reassures.

He’s not. He won’t. He isn’t.

“If the world was ending tomorrow,” Ruggie says, sliding into a new subject with practiced finesse, “what would you all do?”

“The end of the world…” Riddle frowns. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s a hypothetical. Anything’s possible.”

Silver hums thoughtfully. “I’d spend what time I have left with my loved ones.”

“You sure you’re not just gonna go running back to Briar Valley to protect Malleus?”

“As a guard it’s my duty, but fighting against the inevitable would be pointless.” Silver looks to the rest of them for their input. “If the world is ending and there’s nothing a guard like myself can do to prevent it, then I can only offer what’s left of my time.”

“So companionship. Okay, good to know. What about you, Riddle?”

He huffs. “I refuse to let the world end before I’ve accomplished my goals.”

“Yikes. You academic types don’t rest, do you?”

“No, no, it’s true,” Azul pipes up. “I agree. Why am I going to let the world get in the way of my plans?”

“So both of you are going to resist it until the very end?”

“You said anything can happen in a hypothetical, yes?” Riddle smirks. “In my hypothetical the world says it’ll end tomorrow, but it never does. It keeps saying so like it’s a faulty forecast. The end of the world is scheduled for next week, the week after, three weeks from now. By then, a year’s passed and the world still hasn’t ended.”

Ruggie groans. “That defeats the whole purpose of my question. You can’t give yourself more time when it’s already so limited.”

“Anything is possible if you know what you’re working with,” Azul adds, nodding alongside Riddle. “I quite like this hypothetical.”

“Leave it to the honors students to logic it out and make it more complicated than it needs to be…”

“You wouldn’t spend it with your loved ones?” Silver asks, but it appears as if the question is directed entirely at Azul. “I think I’d want to tell them the things I never got to say. Things I put off saying… Would you do that, too, Azul?”

“I…” He shuts his mouth and then opens it. “I’m not sure what I could possibly say within such a limited timeframe.”

“It doesn’t have to be complex.”

“I guess a good, old ��love you lots’ is better than nothing,” Ruggie says.

Azul stops short. The end of the world. Time. Loss. Loved ones.

Time! He’s running out of time!

“Well, this was quite the lively discussion, but I’m afraid I’ll have to excuse myself now. There are a few more people I must meet.” Azul smiles gratefully at the three of them. They wish him another happy birthday before he finally departs, his heart in his throat.

He’s running out of time.

Logically, Azul knows the feeling doesn’t reflect his reality. It’s not as if he has to confess by the end of the school year. Logically, he has his entire life to confess. But who’s to say you’ll stay in his life after he graduates? You might be gone by the time he finally finds the right words, the right time, the right circumstance.

You can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to.

Floyd’s right. There’s no way of knowing for sure until he does it. There’s no way to know what lies in those uncharted waters until he dives in. There’s no way to know where your heart lies until he confesses.

The world isn’t going to end tomorrow, but if he doesn’t say what he needs to before graduation he’ll never have another chance. And then that world—the world contained within NRC’s boundaries—will implode and that will be that.

At that very moment, a camera flashes. He spins around to search the photographer out and—

There you are, striding through throngs of people to reach him. There you are, dressed for the occasion. There you are, wearing that pretty smile he sees in his dreams.

“Happy birthday!” You turn the photo towards him for his viewing pleasure. It’s of him, staring off into space. He looks so stone-faced with his knitted brows and pursed lips. “Sorry about showing up late. I had to add the finishing touches to your present.”

You hand it to him. The amateur wrapping job makes the gift appear more lumpy than it actually is. It’s heavy like a textbook. Shaped as such, too. Azul wonders what its contents could be. Perhaps something relating to economics? A novel in a particular genre?

“Thank you very much. I’ll take good care of both.” He tucks the picture into his breastpocket, battling the urge to tear into your gift now. He needs to know. What did you get him? What could it possibly be? “I’m glad you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“Even if the world was ending?”

“Uh… What?”

“Ah, never mind that. It was simply a lingering thought from a previous conversation.”

“That’s so grim! And on your birthday, no less.”

Azul waves his hand through the air. A playful smile draws his lips apart. “Can you believe Riddle said he’d make the apocalypse wait on his behalf?”

“Seriously?” You snort, eyes brightening with amusement. “Even the apocalypse gets a schedule…”

He barks out a laugh. “Insanity, isn’t it?”

“Maybe for us, but definitely not for Riddle.” You glance at him. “What about you? What does Azul Ashengrotto’s last day look like?”

He intends to answer with something prepackaged: Awash in success until the very end!

“Alone.”

“Really? No friends or family by your side?”

“Would that make it better? Perhaps being surrounded by others only intensifies the dread.”

There’s some sort of symbolism in coming into the world alone and going out the same. Azul just can’t quite phrase it eloquently.

“Maybe there’s no right answer. Maybe there’s not any comfort in it either.” You run your fingers over the edges of your Ghost Camera. “We can’t know what lies ahead until we’re there. Maybe that’s why we spend so much time theorizing.”

“Quite the insightful judgment.”

“For the record, I wouldn’t mind being your plus-one for the end of the world.”

“I’m flattered.” He grins. “I shall be yours in return.”

“No strings attached?”

“All the strings attached. So many,” he exaggerates.

“No fair!”

Silence fills in the cracks. You stand side by side, drinking in Mostro Lounge’s upbeat atmosphere. After some time, you nudge him.

“Look at us, speaking about all of these sad things. It’s your birthday, not a funeral!”

He wonders if now’s a good time. Should he lighten the mood and confess? But wouldn’t that just make it even more serious and somber? Is there ever going to be an opportune moment?

You can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to.

Surprises. Spontaneity. Luck. All things left to chance. All things Azul attempts to anticipate. He thinks back on the many plans and what-ifs he calculated and wonders if it was worth it.

“(Name), I just wanted to say—” He stops himself, his fingers curling around the gift cradled in his arms. I love you and I want you in my life. I don’t want the world to end here with you and me. I want to know what lies beyond and experience it with you—the good and the bad. Everything. “I just wanted to thank you.”

For being my friend. For being yourself. For existing in the same world as me, even if it feels like we’re doomed to be islands apart.

“What’s this? Genuine thanks? Am I going to find an anemone on my head next?”

“That can be arranged. Isn’t it tradition to grant the person of the hour one birthday favor?”

“Hah! You wish!”

I do. I really do.

The party wears on into the night. Azul repeats the same mantra as before: I have time.

When he’s in his room, gifts piled high on his desk, he sits back in his seat and carefully unwraps yours. It’s a book, leather-bound and regal. It looks expensive. While attempting to approximate its value, he reads the title spelled out with alphabet stickers: My Azul. His brow furrows. Just what are you playing at here?

Cautiously, he opens the book to the first page. Your writing winks back at him: Happy birthday, Azul! This is my gift to you. It’s a chronological journal of your school life! :D People often say it’s difficult to picture themselves through the eyes of others, so I wanted to show you what I see every time I look at you. I hope you’ll never forget just how important you are. If you ever do, open this book to remind yourself.

With love always,

(Name).

“Curious,” he mumbles, flipping the page. The layout reminds him of a scrapbook. You’ve decorated it with stickers and patterned tape, scrawled words in different colored inks. There are two photographs—each from Azul’s second year. He’d forgotten about these. That time it snowed so much the students had a snowball fight in the courtyard. That time an alchemy accident (courtesy of Grim) led to Azul speaking in cat for the rest of the day.

In the center, a small blurb reads: My Azul is terrifyingly good at making snowballs within record time, just as he’s terrifyingly good at marketing them at all the right moments. My team was totally losing. Leave it to Azul to swoop in when he knows it’s advantageous… He’s intelligent and passionate. Even when mistakes occur, he works through them effortlessly. (Although it was nice having Catzul for a day!)

He rolls his eyes at that last bit.

The next page displays photos in much the same fashion. You’ve clearly put lots of effort and thought into each arrangement. Azul feels like he’s walking through a museum with every page. Like the first, the rest of the pages that follow include photographs of himself (some with others and some with you) and a short paragraph describing your observations.

His eyes are on the verge of a typhoon as he soaks in every sugared sentence.

My Azul is strong. My Azul is silly. My Azul has the best laugh. My Azul is great at bargaining. My Azul is awkward. My Azul is clumsy (in the best ways). My Azul is resourceful. My Azul makes the best study guides (thank you!!!!). My Azul is a hero. My Azul never gives up. My Azul is a talented mage. My Azul is…

All of these things he’s never heard anyone acknowledge before—have you always seen him in this way? Is this truly what he’s like through your eyes? He finds that hard to believe, and yet there he is on the page, winking at the camera or posing in an outfit from one of the many school trips he’s attended. You’ve added little comments and doodles in the margins and corners. Azul smiles as he reads them.

Noble Bell College sure was something! I’d like to visit again one day…

Vargas Camp was exhausting! I still can’t believe we survived.

Halloween! I want to experience it in the Coral Sea one day. But maybe just for one night. An endless Halloween is too much…

The ceremonial robes are very pretty. They’re so different from the uniforms in my world.

Happy Beans Day! Azul prepares all year for this. That level of commitment is impressive!

Azul reaches the end with watery eyes. He sniffles, so enveloped in a love he’s never felt from any friend before. You care. You truly, honestly care. It’s clear in each and every page—in the words you’ve written. You care about him.

The final page has a blank space the rough shape and size of a photograph. For some reason he understands what he’s meant to do. He slides the photograph you gave him all that time ago from his phone case and pastes it to the space. And then he reads what’s written below.

My Azul keeps all of these walls up in order to protect himself. He’s sensitive and self-conscious. He likes to uphold a perfect image at all times. He likes to keep his weaknesses hidden, his cards close. But then he’s also funny. He’s sincere and gentle. He’s sweet. He’s someone I admire from all sides, good and bad. Even when he’s scheming, even when he’s acting, he’s still Azul. My camera’s captured so many of his moments, which is very apparent now that you’ve made it to the end. But I’m happy to have documented these moments because they showcase everything that makes my Azul himself.

My Azul has never looked “positively dreadful” to my camera. Even on the days where he feels like nothing, my Azul is everything to me. I will always think so.

He’s crying. He can’t help it.

Azul sits there and he sobs.

He sobs until his throat is dry, until his eyes are blotchy and red. He sobs until he can’t anymore.

Holding the book close to his chest, he wonders how he ever managed to befriend someone like you.

An angel. That’s what you are.

An angelfish.

And he’s Azul. Your Azul.

iv. spring - but, baby, i’ll be there. yeah, baby, i’ll be there. it’s been a little hard. i’ve been a little tough. but maybe all along i’m afraid, i’m afraid, i’m afraid. i’m afraid, i’m afraid, i’m afraid.

The air is sweet with the scent of blossoming flowers, thick with pollen. Azul’s chest is light, swelling with excitement. A new chapter is about to begin. In just a few hours he’ll graduate along with the rest of his peers and then it’s off to start another story. For Azul, this is just a continuation of something already so prolific.

He strolls past The Great Seven, pausing briefly to admire the Sea Witch in all of her tentacular glory.

“With this weather, it’s almost difficult to imagine they called for rain.” Jade peers up at the sun, shielding its obtrusive rays with one hand.

“They’re always gettin’ it wrong,” Floyd says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “So annoying. I was hopin’ it’d rain and then they’d cancel.”

“Unlikely. There are always contingency plans put in place when it comes to an event as momentous as graduation.”

“Bleh. Lame. I wanna skip. I hate bein’ in those stuffy clothes, packed in close like a sardine.”

“If you’re absent, you won’t receive your diploma.”

“What a scam.”

Jade simply smiles. Ironic.

Azul turns around to look at them. “Four years… Gone in a blink. Will either of you miss it?”

“It was certainly enjoyable. I admit there are some aspects I’ll miss quite fiercely.”

“Guess it’ll be a bummer not seein’ everyone all the time. I’m gonna miss playing with Baby Seal and Shrimpy.”

“I’ll miss them, too.” Azul sighs. “(Name) especially…”

“You still haven’t told her?” Floyd raises a brow. “You’re gonna leave without sayin’ a word?”

“That does seem to be the plan,” Jade answers.

“I… I’ve thought it over.” He clears his throat. No time for waterworks. He needs to be in top shape if he’s to deliver the opening speech as Salutatorian. Riddle took first place, which wasn’t a shock to anyone. He always did say he’d make Valedictorian no matter what. Azul had been keen to fight him for it, even if it became clear he’d never surpass him. Second place is irksome, but it has its merits. Although he isn’t going to settle with just that! He’ll get first place one of these days. “We’re better off friends.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Is that enough?”

“Is what enough?”

“Her friendship.”

“It’ll have to be.” Azul’s gaze glazes over.

He’s run out of time, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe that was meant to be.

“Well, let’s not dwell on it any further!” He claps his hands and turns swiftly on his heel. “There’s still work to be done.”

Jade and Floyd exchange furtive glances. They know as well as he does that he’s lying.

But maybe that was also meant to be.

— — —

Crowley tasked you with snapping photos for NRC’s yearbook. “Because I am a paragon of magnanimity,” he said, “I am entrusting this very important task to you once more. Take lots of pictures! Don’t miss a single moment!”

You do just that, photographing the graduates as they wait in a room behind the stage, chattering eagerly amongst themselves. You raise your camera to document Azul when he stands at the podium to give his salutation speech. You do the same for Riddle when it’s his turn. The ceremony is grand, ballooning with emotion. You look on with a cheek-splitting smile, proud of every student who crosses the stage. It’s bittersweet. The friends you made when you were enrolled as a first year are now moving on in life.

Time flies. What a whirlwind year it’s been.

When it’s Azul’s turn and he goes down the line to shake the hands of his professors and Crowley, you wave at him from your place in the audience. He meets your eyes from where he stands, and he smiles.

Your camera catches that moment in perfect permanence.

By the end of it all, your face hurts from smiling, your throat sore from cheering, your hands raw from clapping. Grim grumbles at you to knock it off with the sun shower, your tears dampening his fur. You wipe your eyes and sniffle. “I’m happy for them. It’s a good day.”

He forces his head under your palm, allowing you to pet him and cry through it in peace. He doesn’t say anything. You don’t need him to.

While the graduates meet up with their family and friends, you make your rounds. Kalim introduces you to his parents and siblings—all thirty-something of them. You’re in a daze by the time introductions are finished, and Jamil leans over to whisper, “No need to commit everyone to memory.”

“Have you talked to Azul yet?” Kalim asks after everything has settled down.

You shake your head. “Why? What’s up?”

“Just wanted to ask. I know the Headmage wants you to take lots of pictures.”

“We shouldn’t keep you any longer than we already have,” Jamil adds with a curt nod.

You smile. “Congrats, both of you. Good luck.”

“We gotta keep in touch. Promise me you’ll call whenever you can. You’re always welcome to visit, too! Oh, I’ll go check with my parents now! I’m sure they’ll say yes!” Kalim bounds off in their direction.

“Just let me know well in advance. That way I can plan for proper accommodations,” Jamil says, following Kalim with sharp eyes.

“I’ll do that.” You turn to leave and then stop. “I hope you get your vacation one day, Jamil.”

He stares at you, mystified, before a gentle smile softens on his face. “One day,” he echoes. “I hope you’ll find your way home.”

“One day.”

The two of you share a final look before going your separate ways.

Surrounded in such an energetic environment, talking to and meeting families, you find yourself longing for your loved ones. So much time has passed. You wonder how they’re doing. Are they well? Are they worried?

“Aah, it’s Shrimpy!” Floyd crashes into you with so much force you nearly topple. He steadies you with a giggle. “Where’s Baby Seal?”

“Left to gorge on refreshments. Hey, since you’re here, can I get your picture?”

“Course you can.”

Detaching himself, he poses for you. You take a few photos, mirroring his good mood.

“Are your parents around?”

“Mhm!”

“Seriously? They came?”

“Course they did.”

“Did they take transformation potions?”

Floyd nods. “Pops does land business sometimes, so he’s used to it. Mama doesn’t leave home much. She’s real bad at walking on her feet.”

“Ah, got it.”

Floyd grins down at you. “You wanna meet ’em?”

“Maybe later… I’ve gotta keep taking photos.”

“I gotcha. Make sure to snap a few of Azul.”

“Right! Speaking of him, where is he? I’ve spoken to everyone but him.”

Floyd peers out across a sea of faces, scanning each one like a predator sizing up his next meal. “He’s avoidin’ ya.”

“What? Why?”

“Why don’tcha ask him when you see him? Bet he’ll have a fun answer for ya.”

You would, if only you could find him. As the afternoon wears on, you begin to lose hope. If he’s truly hiding from you, he’s doing a great job of it. After what feels like hours of walking in aimless circles, you take pause to consider the situation. If you were Azul and you wanted to hide away for a little while, where would you go?

To someplace familiar. To someplace comfortable. To someplace quiet.

He’s pacing in front of Ramshackle when you arrive. You open the gate and step through, taking each step one at a time. Once you’re within a close enough proximity, you make your presence known.

“Azul?”

He startles and whips around. As soon as he sees you, he lurches forward, intending to leave.

You block his path. “Hey, wait! What gives? I’ve been looking all over for you. Floyd told me you’re avoiding me.”

“Floyd doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“But I’m sure you do. So what’s up?”

“It’s…nothing. I merely wanted to tour campus one last time.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say anything? I would’ve come with you!” You attempt to elbow him, but he side-steps you. “Uh, right…”

“Ah, sorry. I… Admittedly, there’s quite a lot on my mind.”

“I get it. Congrats, by the way. Your speech was really good.”

“I’m pleased you think so.”

This…isn’t Azul, you realize, a frown flickering on your face. At least not the Azul I usually see.

“I got to meet all of Kalim’s siblings.”

“Did you? All of them?”

“Every. Single. One. His family’s huge!”

An uncomfortable silence festers between the two of you. You glance at your camera and then at Azul.

“Can you believe that Crowley? He wanted me to take all of these pictures, but there were dozens of professionals who did it much better than me! What was even the point?”

“Terrible, isn’t it? A job as good as the one you do deserves proper payment.”

“Exactly! My services aren’t free.”

Azul smiles, a wistful gloss to his gaze. You can see the cogs turning behind his eyes—can see the calculation as it comes to fruition.

“You can cry. I won’t judge.”

“I’m not going to.”

“It’s fine. It’s normal, Azul.”

He inhales a deep breath, holds it for three seconds, and then releases. When he looks at you next, his expression is hard and riddled with subdued anxiety. A zephyr blows between you, rustling the leaves in the trees, raking through the grass, dragging wispy fingers through your clothes and hair. The quiet expands and stretches wide.

Azul opens his mouth, shuts it, and sighs. A forlorn resignation flits over his countenance.

“I—” he swallows hard and then it just bursts free, the admission he’s kept secret for so long— “I love you.”

Another breeze combs through the premises. Your gasp is swept away with it.

“I’ve loved you for two years. And I… I wanted to tell you so many times in the past, but I never could. I was scared and I ran away. I still am! The truth is that I’m afraid of losing you. I’m afraid of messing up in front of you and looking like a fool. I’m afraid of showing you the parts of myself I hate most. I’m even afraid of that phrase—of saying it because it terrifies me to think, in some distant world, it might be reciprocated. But I have to say it, and I want you to know. Even if you don’t feel the same, I have to tell you.”

You gape at him, utterly speechless. The longer you do so, the more flustered he becomes.

“Y-You’re free to think it’s gross or weird. I understand I’m not the most ideal candidate, but I…” He wrings his hands, exhaling shakily. “I think you’re everything. My whole world.”

There are so many things you want to say. So, so many. But they’re all jumbled, carried along like flowers floating down a stream in spring. You close the gap, taking his hands in yours, and you kiss him.

Azul startles, squeaking against your lips. It takes a minute for him to find his rhythm, but soon he’s wilting against you, his body relaxed. You taste saliva and salt—tears. When you pull back, he’s crying.

“I think you’re the most ideal candidate. I’ve always thought so.” You cradle his cheek in a warm hand.

A sob trembles through him. “I never thought—you’re just so… I couldn’t have imagined…”

“That I’d like you?”

“Yes!”

“Why?” “Because…”

“I’ve always liked you, Azul. I’d never lie about that. Your birthday gift—those are my honest opinions.”

“Every one of them?”

“Each and every one.”

He sniffles weakly, drying his eyes with the heel of his palm.

Instinctively, you reach for your camera. And then you hesitate. You’ve always stood behind the protective lens of your trusty Ghost Camera, assuming the role of photographer in order to remain in his orbit. But now you’d like to try putting the camera aside and documenting Azul’s moments with your own two eyes.

He loves me.

You just manage to shut the front door before you’re pulling him flush against you. He presses you up against the wall in the foyer, a knee slotting between your legs. You melt in mutual merriment, grabbing at every part of him. Your uniform blouse is ripped open in a hurry. You try to handle his graduation robes with caution, appreciating expensive embroidery, but vehemence gets the better of you. It’s a wild rush. Hot and panting, you’re shuddering in carnal delight, every nerve alight. When he presses up against you next, half-dressed and hazy with an addictive adoration, you can feel the result of your exploratory touches straining for release.

“Upstairs,” you mumble against his mouth, sweating out of your skin.

You fall into bed as one, tangled around each other. Azul trails kisses up the expanse of your stomach, working you open on skillful fingers. You shiver beneath him, your heart pounding in your ribs.

“I love you.” A kiss to your belly.

“I love you.” A kiss to the valley of your breasts.

“I love you.” A kiss to your lips.

You love him just as intensely. 

He drags his fingers out next, admiring the slick coating them like it’s a valuable substance. You giggle, dizzy with delirium.

“Can I call you mine?”

You run your hands up and down his arms. “I’d like that.”

“Your boyfriend,” he murmurs, astonished. “I’m your boyfriend…”

“Mhm…” You sit up in bed and climb into his lap. Slowly, inch by inch, you lower yourself. He sucks in a breath through grit teeth. “And I’m—mmh—I’m your girlfriend.”

Azul whines into your mouth. His arms wrap around you to keep you firmly pinned to his body, and he bucks his hips up to meet you the rest of the way. Filled in such a way, connected so intimately, you breathe a satisfied sigh. You dig your nails into his shoulders. Every muscle slackens. It’s bliss, pure and perfect. The both of you mold to one another like sea meeting shore.

You grind down, chasing a mounting climax. “You’re the best—perfect. So perfect. Oh, I love you, Azul. I love you so much. I’ve always wanted to say it.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “You have no idea how fervently I’ve yearned for this—for you.”

You can’t possibly begin to imagine, but you can definitely relate. Weeks of silent pining, of hoping something might happen and you’d be able to confess without fear. Those days are behind you. Now you can know love in his arms and it isn’t so uncertain.

You lose yourselves in the sensations of sweet, soulful sex. He’s gentle like a spring breeze, dedicated like a devotee at your altar. You’re much the same, your moans just as plentiful. Just as loud. You’re wrapped in wonder when you look into his eyes and find the same amount of love reflected back.

I’m so happy I met you.

When he cums, he digs his fingers into your hips to drag you down and bury himself deeper inside. You unravel shortly after, your orgasm coaxed out by a few attentive massages to your clit. Your bodies, sticky and sweaty, stay connected even after you’ve come down from the clouds.

“Had I known, I would’ve said something sooner.” After catching his breath, Azul rests his head in the crook of your neck. “I regret it.”

“I don’t. Things happen when they happen.” You run your fingers through the tangled, silvery strands of his hair. It’s soft just like him. He leans into your touch and hums appreciatively. “I’m glad it happened when it did.”

“I’m glad I could say it. It would’ve eaten me alive if I’d left without telling you.”

“And are you still afraid?”

Azul places his hand over yours. “No, not anymore. The world ahead looks much clearer now.”

“Am I in it?”

He laughs. “More than that.”

“Oh?”

“You are my world.”

[florasvenus]

My Sweet Little Demon

Pairing : So’Lek x Na’vi (Avatar) Female!Reader

Warnings : Smut, Sexual/ Explicit Contents, Slight Fluff, Posessive attitude, So’lek and reader in Love, p in v Slight agressive behaviour, swearing and that should be it.

A/ N : Hello Everyone! I hope you’ll like this story. I originally come from AO3. Mostly surfing on there, but I decided to take a look here and found the vibe pretty nice. I decided to write this So’lek fic because I obviously got obsessed with him and I guess not having the game contributed to it even more for some reason? Plus I am very obsessed with Neteyam too as I just watched the movie again, so it all restarted lol. I hope I'll be forming a nice community here. For now this will be it. Smooch 💕💙

Index : Tawtute = Human/ SkyPerson | Nga yawne lu oer = I love you

Nga yawne lu oer...

Nga yawne lu oer~

You pronounce together, looking profoundly in eachothers irises. Each of them a pure yellow color. Dark pupils dancing in the golden sky. So’lek kisses with lust the slight swell of your stomach, slowling traiking up to suck on one of your hardened nipples. He quits it with a small pop, the humid glaze of left on it making them more enticing than they already were. He sits up on his heels, after your long make out session. As he leans back, his erected cock bobs and twitches in anticipation. Without any shame you glide the flat of your hand over his torso, down his abs until you grab his throbbing dick showing a delightful bead of pre-cum. You slowly caress him and he lets his head fall back, locks danfling down, waving down at his round ass contracting in need. With a swallow he recovers and adjust himself, ready to enter your beautiful flower.

So’lek pierces the breach of your dripping entrance with a low growl. Gritting his teeth to the point of grinding, he lets out a jerky breath at the sight of his pretty tawtute spread out for him beneath his thick, masculine frame. He tightens his grip around your thighs, whitening his knuckles even more, and spreads your legs with surprising grace, considering everything about him radiates strength, endurance and certainly not softness. He looks at you with hooded eyes and a snarl is blown to your nose, contrasting the care he's been laying on you since you both started to make out in the lushious Pandoran greens.

You’d been such a brat. Such a fucking bitch, with your human lips, pouring endless words of nonsense. Such a tawtute manner, he thinks bitterly, though he couldn’t contain how much he loved this about you. And this was one of the reasons he fell in love with you. Your vivid mind never ceased to impress himself, as he always believed humans had a weak and poor thinking brain. But this was not true for you. You were able of so much introspection and impressive deductions that you couldn't stop yourself from talking during the whole day, yet with wisdom. You had this way of speaking every thought. As beautiful as it was, it could seriously piss him off after a long day amongst the clan warriors. And today was one of these, were the strenght of his nerves weren't enough to mirror your sense of verbal connection, but just enough to pound the attitude out of you.

Sky Demon oh so delicate and gracious, that it was able to break the stiff wall of his long lasting beliefs. Sky Demon, oh so pure hearted, made him fucking feel what love was and felt the ground crumble under his feet since the day he met you. Sky Demon, oh so sincere and kind, able to knock the most harsh feelings he always felt towards any of your kind out of his lungs. And Sky Demon, so unbelievably true to herself, made him drool at the curious idea of how such a being could ressemble to one of his kind. You truly were the person proving him wrong on the fact that it wasn't your source, your race nor your home that should make you an enemy. But it was the hearts of those rejecting Eywas truth that had to be feared and chased.

As you were learning him to see the world through a different way and less darkened eyes without changing his aspects. He himself, showed you how much you deserved to be loved, even how far down you fell and how unalive you used to feel. Originally from earth, you arrived on Pandora by the mission to seek out new ways of life. Finding a way to save humanity without any harm. You then were attributed to your own avatar. Everything was fine until, the higher people, controlling the plan, lost their mind and you decided to flee into the forest and then you met So’lek. Luckily you had found a way to transfer your soul for good in your blue grand form and said goodbye to your human form without any regret, as you never felt any glimmer living this life of human roots. This amplified by the days you had the chance to live amongst them, as the tsahik saw something true and pure in your soul.

Back on earth, the world is destroyed and getting the chance to leave for Pandora, was like the four petal clove found in the endless pain field. A gift from the universe you never awaited and in distress needed. You smile everyday at this chaotic story and at how it somehow worked and shaped into the most beautiful story to share, with quite the amusing anecdotes. Like you loved to and it was utmost crazy to see that maybe yes. The universe always had a plan for you, by the way such uncompatible puzzle pieces still locked into place together. Or by the way two completely different souls managed to pull together easely. In the end, the only language is still love. And it will be the hymn of the universe forever.

His warm calloused and soothing palms craddle the little fat of your legs, calming your racing heart as he tries to penetrate deeper and deeper into your intimate warmth. Your labias spread evenly as his dick slides in you with difficulty. You two weren't having intercourses for long so it was only normal as you in addition were very tight to begin with. You're so damn tight, he thinks. But he regrets his thoughts, feeling how good your walls kiss the skin of his member. So tight, that he could even feel the rythmic beat of his heart down there. Deep pulse gaining speed with each second passed and as the most carnal needs grow. He sighs erotically, stopping his way inside for a second and taking his time admiring you. Everything in you radiates light and Love and he now couldn't even dare to imagine living without you. When he first met you, he had this irrepressible urge to cut of off your devil hands. Five fingers, the art of destruction, but today as knowing who you were inside, he only wants them to be feeled on evey inch of his skin.

Reaching down to hold one of your hands up, he put your small finger into his hot mouth, sucking on it hard while humming unintelligible sounds. Praising this part of you today was something important. Maybe was it out of guilt, but it wasn't something to ignore at how it just fueled desire powerfully by just a small actions as simple as this. The way it delivered trust and love around the air, was a drunk dizzying feeling. But you both loved to feel succumbed under such circumstances.

You look up in awe, squirming at his bold chest glistening with sweat and at the way his pecs contract with each fast inhale. As you move you can feel the resistance in your core, jolting at the way it sends electricity to your heart and you mewl at the way his warm tongue swirls around your slender petite finger. The rough surface of his tongue momentarely stops as you clench down on him, only to fully decontract yourself and finally letting his way easely in. Exactly how he planned to. You were so putty under his touch and he loved this. Loved to feel so masculine and viril in such a tender and yet feminine moment.

You moan, body wriggling at the size of his member resuming his ascencion down your belly, slowly forming a bulge without struggle. Given his posture, it's never been strange that he'd come away with such a large, long size and length. But as always, theory surpasses reality. And right now, it's the practitioner who's got the upper hand. An expert in the art, So’lek revels in your face as it contracts in innocent pleasure, and despite your pain, the oh so delectable stretch of his greatness evokes a sensation of intense well-being.

His voice breaks the silence only punctuated by heavy breaths. Pronounced accent and long vocal chords, and so on low growl, expressing their intention.

Look at you.... My beautiful Tawtute~ So ready and wet for me... He breathes in emotion with a smile while whispering just below your ear, his hot breath fanning over your sweet spot, before lapping at it like a starving man. You shiver, cold spikes travelling down your spine in an addicting way. Mouth long release of its favorite finger, he still caresses it with his own and pins it down just over your head, vanishing into the dark chocolate hair of yours splayed into the humid ground into a captivating canvas.

He enters slowly, letting your body adjust bit by bit. The vein of his dick slides through the membrane of your throbbing hole until it is stopped by the bump of your cervix. You moan in unison, ragged breaths escaping your luscious lips, coated with a thin film of saliva. Your eyes roll back into your skull, your mouth falling open as he maintains a steady rhythm. So'lek slides out of you, then gently in, testing the waters again and again. But as soon as your walls get wetter and the desired slick accumulates at the base of his stiffness, he begins a merciless rhythm that frees never heard harsh sounds from your mouth, vibrating on your tongue rarely, with each thrusts.

He lifts your hips, embracing the bulge of your bottom, and the new angle forces a long, desperate whimper out of him. The whole scene would have been obscene, between the dry tumults of his pubic bone slapping the soft down of your pussy and the grumbles escaping So’leks throat, it’s more than a mystery. Only you can bring him to do that. Be so free of his emotional restrains and that's what makes this moment so profound. And this is exactly what makes him angry too. Fortunately, you're hidden in a rocky alcove near a river that blocks out any auditory vibrations. And the headwaters of the waterfall muffle the voluminous muses of your companion, lost in an almost animal trance.

Your arms are now limp, framing your lulling face, enamoured with an expression of aggressively delicious pleasure. Your cheeks blaze with a new colour, a bright red, growing in intensity as the knot in the pit of your stomach becomes more and more oh so fucking good tensed. Noxiously more.

So’lek rises to his knees, lifting his bottom up, this new position much more within reach of an intoxicating act. Sinking deeper into the sweet warmth that has become a necessity at this stage of your shared passions, you can feel your body bounce with each stroke. Only your bobbing shoulder blades are connected to the sacred humid soil. Only witness next to the curious lifting leaves.

This goes on for minutes until the familiar sensation of orgasm approaches. Your face contorts in shock, letting out a melodious gasp as it arrives, and in a desperate gesture you reach out your arms, searching in vain for something to cling on, your eyes closed. Your upper limbs fall back onto the sumptuous floral carpet with a flat thud, convulsing with pleasure as the overstimulated nerves finally relax with a well-placed dip. Your first orgasm is like a firework exploding on your erect bud. Your second cuts you off from all air, arriving like an uncontrolled tsunami, and the last. Oh, the last one. You see it coming, but as it shoots its first gusts into the centre, it develops into a veritable firestorm. Burns your being up to the depths of your core, embrace you to the tips of your toes.

You see white as the last exhilarating breeze fades and you whine at the overstimulation. So’lek is still chasing his climax, frustrating shouts echoing off the stone walls that clatter in the suffocating atmosphere. All his muscles tense, his cock throbs and his balls contract unbelievably close to his crotch. He gives it all until the pulsation of his member points its knowing pump and in one last stroke he glues your two pelvises flush together and empties his seed directly into your womb, staying there.

You both semi-giggle in a transe, lost in your sensations. You feel his warm seed fill you to the brim, finally able to take a complete breath, whilst he lets his head fall down, groaning at the amazing way to claim you, that his to fuck you dumb until his cum paints your leaking walls.

Missions accomplished. You are exhausted, eyes fluttering in a way to try and keep them open. Long lashes shadowing the little of sight you are able to get. Wanting to watch the beauty of this man after he'd use you and worshipped you whole. Soul to Mind, to Body, to Spirit, to every inch of Life living inside of you. This always leads him in a charming sweet way to be and there is no way you'd miss it. To bad, turns out he fucked you too good. Now you can't even open your eyes the way you should...

You awake the second he pulls out though and exhale an annnoyed complain. He chuckles as he heavily lays down next to you, wrapping his big arms around your sweating body, trailing them along your curves and enjoying the after care time. So’lek loves to relish in the smell and sensitive skin of yours. Damp and buttery from the effort, your scent is stronger making the world around him satisfyingly disappear even more.

You sigh, happy to have him near you for once. It isn't often you get the time to succumb to your wants and it feels good when you can. You nuzzle your cheek against his, shiny orbs waiting for his owns to connect with. And when they do, your heart swells with love. So’lek can be seemed as a brute and careless man for the simple by walkers, as he is very dominant looking. But in truth he's the teddiest of all Teddy Bears. He smiles, showing off his sharp fangs, and cups your jaw with attention.

He prepars to lean in and kiss you, but the movement of your lips stop him. Look at you... My beautiful Na’vi~ You reflect his previous words with playfulness, ears flicking and fluttering. So ready and wet for me... You joke by reusing his words, looking down at his blue and oh so tempting lips. With a groan, he looks up unimpressed. You just can't stop youself and talk nonsense, do you, he thinks. He smiles at the thought, though he would never admit, that it is you, with you never ending blabber, that got him out of solitude.

You let him lean in and as he devours your mouth again, holding your neck, he lingers there until both of you are out of air for a second time.

Now. If you want to be this bratty again... He pauses and grins. What if I show the consequences of it? Again~

You cup his growing naked bulge and smirk. He gasps, amazed at how you caught his words and the implying behind them so rapidly.

Oh... I would love to. My beloved Teddy Bear~

©️ FlorasVenus

[hanafubukki]

Summary: “Marry me Lilia Vanrouge! I’ll make you the happiest fae in the world.”

You and Lilia walked through Malleus’ garden. The roses were in peak bloom, making the scenery perfect for a stroll.

The floral scents in the air calmed your racing heart…somewhat.

It’s not as if you were nervous being around Lilia, you dated him for many years now.

It’s more…what you planned to do that made you nervous.

“You seem nervous, my dear.”

“I’m not nervous…just overthinking.”

Lilia hummed. Knowing him, he probably knew something was up but chose to let you come to him in your own time.

You love him.

It was a fact.

Looking at him, amongst the roses. His gaze fond as he took in the nearby flowers. The scenery framing him exquisitely as if he is a work of art that belongs to a museum.

You couldn’t keep your next words in even if you tried.

“Marry me Lilia Vanrouge! I’ll make you the happiest fae in the world.”

Lilia stilled, looking at you in surprise.

You wanted to clam up, but for some reason your mouth didn’t listen to your brain.

“W-well, I’ll make you the happiest fae in the world in the romantic sense! I mean, your sons and Sebek already make you happy in the platonic sense…what am I saying? Why am I saying-”

Lilia burst out in laughter. Your mouth decided to stop sprouting words at the beautiful sound.

You started walking away, feeling shy and embarrassed.

“You know what? Forget what I said. I’ll think of a better one. Oh Sebek is going to-”

A hand stopped you, you looked to see Lilia gazing at you with love that would last centuries.

“Yes.” Lilia pulled you closer to him, his forehead touching yours, “Yes, I will marry you.”

Hiding away from the recently engaged couple, three young men watched the scene with varying reactions.

Silver smiled at the scene before him before sighing at his fellow knight who’s yelling up a storm. Luckily, the barrier Lord Malleus made around them not only hid them, but deafened Sebek’s voice.

“You call that a proposal YN?! Did you learn nothing from the books we had read?! That proposal was the least romantic method you could have gone with!”

“Sebek, father agreed. YN’s proposal was a success.”

“That’s not the point!”

Malleus had a slight smirk on his face, enjoying the unexpected situations you always brought about before an unexpected thought came to mind.

“I wonder if we will hear the pitter patter of tiny feet soon.”

The shining eyes that faced Malleus conveyed how excited they were at such a prospect.

It has been a long time since such sounds were heard.

They all looked forward to it.

As was promised in my poll ☺️💞🫶, hope you enjoyed. 🌺🌸

The need to marry this fae increases ever day 🥹💞 I love him so much.

[itsmaferart]

Will world peace happen when Donovan takes a cow with him in his spaceship?

Okay, after seeing thousands of memes on twitter of Donovan being a dancing green Alien. I would like to give a brief speculation on my part.

Honestly, I don't want to believe that Donovan is an alien in the “conventional” sense of the word. But, perhaps, a person who was subjected to some experiment during the war, related to the “Apple” experiments.

If we place ourselves in the post war era, with the creation of weapons, something that became popular was the science fiction stories and the constant paranoia of extraterrestrial contact. So it is not surprising that in SxF a fictional series (including a telepathic girl and an oracle dog), touches on these themes. So, the theory that many have mentioned that Donovan at some point underwent an experiment that is responsible for the scars on his head may not be far-fetched. But what if, before Melinda's eyes, Donovan's abilities unleashed a level of paranoia so great that it led her to conclude that her husband is an extraterrestrial?

It's not so crazy, if you think that one of Anya's greatest fears has been rejection by her parents and other people close to her if they were to learn of her powers. In fact, thinking back, I remember that when Twilight adopted Anya, we were given to understand that the orphanage owner and previous families had already rejected Anya.

Melinda clearly shows signs of a person who has been psychologically abused.

Melinda, clearly shows signs of a person who has suffered psychological abuse related to her husband and has developed disorders that affect her mental health, and this not only affects her but also her bond with her children (as we saw with Demian).

Perhaps Melinda's mind created this idea that Donovan is an alien as a defense mechanism to deal with the abuses (and possible crimes) of her husband?

And considering how the war has affected the entire generation of Loid, Yor and Melinda who lived their whole lives with the war. It is not surprising that Melinda at some point has been affected by all the media talking about this issue, and started to link all these events to Donovan's co-ducts.

Then… No spaceships?

I can't rule out that the “Apple” experiments may have had a slight contact with technology or some kind of unknown being, and this may have been the basis for experimentation to obtain Anya and Bond's powers. (Remember we haven't confirmed if Anya has real horns, have we?) Also, this chapter made me think that Anya mentioned that her powers are linked to the lunar phases, so she may lose her telepathy with the crescent moon.

Girl, what are you saying?

[total-dxmure]

✦ MARLEY AND ME →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE

pairing: modern!ellie williams x single mom!reader 

summary: you’re a single mom just doing the best that she can to make ends meet. ellie can’t help but think that you're the kindest, most beautiful girl that she’s ever met. compared to taking care a little girl that's in her terrible twos, coming to terms with the fact that you’re a lesbian is a walk in the park. awkward first encounters, ellie’s broken gay-dar, and her overwhelming urge to take care of the care-giver. . . the road to domesticity is a long one, but it’s well worth the pining that it takes to get there. 

warnings: hella SMUT! in future chapters, eventual substance use, no use of y/n (you have nicknames/petnames), the reader is marley’s biological mother, talk of coming to terms with ones sexuality, mention of a shitty baby daddy ( though there is no co-parenting between them), ellie is a total girl mom, lots and lots of fluff, ellie is an anxious dork in this fic, reader is broke but happy, ellie takes pride in being a provider, this is going to be a multi-part fic, ellie is an absolute simp for the reader since chapter one and will remain her #1 fan. 

⬶ previous chapter | next chapter ⤅

Ellie counts the tiny bite sized pieces that you cut the pancakes into. You’re meticulous about it, taking your time despite the impatient look on the little girl’s face. She also notices the fact that all the woman has ordered for herself is a cup of coffee. No cream, just sugar and caffeine.

The auburn haired girl, from across the restaurant, is trying not to be too obvious about her staring. She’s trying to find any wrinkles on your face that might clue her in about your age, but she finds none. Ellie decides that you couldn’t be too much older than she is, and if you are, it was only by a few years.

She walks back up to your table, noting that you still haven’t called her back over to order any food for yourself. Every once in a while she’ll watch as you bring your fingers up to your plush lips to lick off syrup. She watches your mouth intently as you speak, noticing the endearing way your lips pull up at the corners. You smile when you talk, no matter what Ellie says to you. The waitress decides that she likes that. She likes that a lot.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything? The food here is really great, I promise.” Ellie offers, already reaching down into her black apron so that she can scribble something down.

Your smile falters, the slight switch of emotion not going unnoticed. The baby across the seat tries to say something, but the young waitress can’t make any sense of it. It just sounds like babble to her. You, however, understand what the little girl is saying right away. You must be able to speak the ancient language of “toddler”.

“Those aren’t flowers, baby. They’re ferns. Can you say ‘fern’?” Your tone shifts ever so slightly, your eyes dazzling with pride.

It’s the way that you look at the little girl sitting in the highchair that makes Ellie weak in the knees. She’s never been the biggest fan of kids, but the tiny butterfly clips that were fastened in her hair and her great, big eyes nearly has Ellie falling to her knees. In fact- she does. She crouches down and holds out her right arm, assuming that the baby was trying to point out something about her tattoo.

Warm, sticky little hands reach out and brush against her skin. Ellie’s lips are twitching up into a wide smile before she can school her features back into neutrality. You’re too busy admiring Ellie now that she’s practically in your lap to notice your daughter getting all grabby. You try to tell yourself that you feel for the woman since she’s showing your daughter affection, but her green eyes and freckled nose has your heart pounding harder than you deem as healthy.

Your daughter tries to sound out the word, and as quickly as your gaze had been snagged by the gorgeous girl in front of you, it was on your daughter just as fast. Your eyes widen, chest swelling with pride.

“That’s it, Marley! Say it again, baby.”

Ellie looks up at you from where she’s crouching, and suddenly her fitted black shirt feels a little too tight. She feels as though she might just burst right out of it, her chest expanding to make room for her swelling heart. This entire time she had thought that the little girl had to be your baby sister, what with your young looking face and the wrinkled band t-shirt you were sporting, but now she understood that the girl was your daughter.

Quickly the woman searched your finger for a ring, not wanting to be drooling over a married woman, but didn’t see one. Whatever guilt had just struck was gone in the blink of an eye, like a flash of lightning. Ellie was often teased by her friends and co-workers about her bad luck with women. Any girl that she’d ever had a crush on in the past was either straight, disinterested, or already seeing someone.

She’d be lying if she said that she had ever been in a proper relationship. Most of it was just short lived pining, immediately followed by devastating disappointment.

Ellie can’t help but wonder how it might feel to be on the receiving end of those beautiful, pride filled eyes of yours. They were beaming with admiration, so much so that Ellie could feel the warmth of it from where she stood. You were like the sun, and the pull towards you was gravitational.

The restaurant was dead, aside from you and a few regulars that she saw on a weekly basis. She didn’t feel as guilty as she should have for neglecting the other customers.

“How old is she?” You watched as the woman stood up, stretching her athletically built body from side to side, her muscles tired from a long day spent on her feet. She noted the way you watched her, filing it away somewhere in her brain so that she could go home and properly go through the “gay checklist” before she made a fool of herself by hitting on you.

“Two,” You replied with a smile. You completely melted as far as your daughter was concerned. “It’s almost like I blinked and all of a sudden she was up walking and talking. Right now we’re learning our colors and shapes.” You shrugged, picking the fork back up so that you could feed her another piece of pancake.

The little girl, that Ellie now knows is named Marley, eagerly opened her mouth.

Your daughter was the kind of little girl that could easily be plastered all over magazines. She looked like a doll. Really, if you were standing far enough away, you could mistake her for one. Babies were usually drooly faces and loud screams, but not Marley. No, she was a perfectly mannered and happy baby. With big doe eyes that matched yours and a wide, tiny toothed smile.

“Well you and your boyfriend must be proud. She’s gorgeous.” She knew it was normal, polite even, for people to gush over babies. She wasn’t lying for the sake of being nice though. Marley really was perfect.

Ellie instantly shut her mouth, so hard that her teeth audibly clacked together when she noticed the way that you winced.

She felt like shit about it, but a small stab of hope pierced clean through her heart. She was in college, and pining after a woman with a kid probably wasn’t something that she should busy herself with, but she couldn’t pull herself away from you. A simple “ready for the bill” would have sufficed as far as conversations went, but she wanted to know about you.

Because really, you were hands down the most beautiful girl that Ellie had ever seen. Your perfection didn’t stop there though. You were nice, and not just in a conversational sense. You were radiant in the way that you spoke to others. The second that you had sat down, you’d cracked a joke with the elderly man two tables down. You probably felt bad about him sitting all by himself. She’d seen you smile at every single one of her coworkers that had walked past you. You even seemed upset to bother her and ask Ellie if she could put your daughter’s juice in a cup with a lid. And here you were, talking to the waitress like you had known her for years.

No one, not even Joel, could fault Ellie for being dangerously attracted to you. Maybe it was the fact that you had such a nurturing aura about you, but Ellie couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to take care of you. She could tell by the light bags under your eyes, which you had skillfully tried to cover up with makeup, that you were a hard worker. Here you were, at a restaurant with a wide selection to choose from, only ordering food for your daughter. You were what Joel would call “a keeper”.

The inevitable moment of parting was coming though. Marley had devoured most of her flapjack, save for a few small bites that you were currently feeding her. That and your coffee mug was nearly empty. Ellie silently cursed herself for not filling it back up a few minutes ago. Maybe, if she had, you would have felt obligated to stay for a second longer. She reached into her pocket, placing the bill onto the table and taking a small step back.

“Here’s this, for whenever you’re ready. No rush.” Ellie held her hands up, taking another step back.

Much to her embarrassment, her hip banged against the side of the table that had been directly behind her. The wooden chair that had been underneath it scrapped loudly against the checkerboard tile, causing a few heads to turn and look at her. And of course, knowing her luck, you had seen and heard it all.

‘Smooth, Ellie.’ She thought wryly to herself, the taste in her mouth going sour.

She could feel heat reaching all the way up to her ears, and right when she was about to turn on her converse-clad heel and hide somewhere in the storage room, you pointed past her.

“I think that table needs a beating. How rude of it to trip you up like that.” You said, your brows playfully knit together in faux anger.

She audibly let out a breath of relief, unable to keep her face from sporting a smile. “Oh, I’m definitely taking it outside the second you leave. Wouldn’t want to beat it senseless in front of a child.”

Ellie thought that she had died and gone to heaven when you laughed at her miserable joke. Your eyes squinted at the corners, head thrown back slightly as your shoulders shook. Everything about you was hideously adorable. It should be illegal, actually.

“How courteous of you.” You teased, propping an elbow on the table so that you could rest your cheek against your hand. The look in your eyes screamed “play with me more”, and it took everything inside of Ellie not to back up into the table a second time.

Were you flirting with her? No. . . no way. You had a baby, which meant that a man had been involved at some point. Sure, lesbian couples had children all the time, but in most cases it was a long and arduous process. That and it was usually horrifically expensive. She couldn’t see you coughing up tens of thousands of dollars to conceive a child. Not when you were practically a child yourself.

“Well, you aren’t the first person to call me that.” Ellie decided to keep the teasing light hearted.

Ellie wasn’t exactly. . . subtle about the fact that she was gay. If the forearm tattoo of ferns and a moth wasn’t enough to clue people in, then her way of dress, posture, and demeanor surely tipped them in the right direction. You couldn’t think that you were play-flirting with a straight girl, that was for sure.

“Courteous? You? Who the hell told you that?” Her friend teased as he breezed past the both of you, a drink in either hand for the table in the far back.

Ellie clenched her teeth, turning her head so that she could give him a look. Jesse loved to publicly embarrass her it would seem. Not that she exactly needed someone to do that for her, not when she did it on the regular herself.

“Joel.” She snapped back, listing off the first person that came to mind. She instantly regretted it though, because Jesse only snickered as his reply. Did he really have to poke fun at her while she was talking to a girl? Knowing him and his antics he was probably doing it on purpose. 

Ellie was left to fiddle her fingers, hoping that she could somehow recover for a second time within the span of a minute. God, she was totally blowing. . . whatever was happening between the two of you.

“Is Joel your boyfriend. . . ?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

You didn’t look all that disappointed when you asked. It just seemed like you were trying to keep the conversation going for a little longer. Still, Ellie’s freckled nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Ew.” She said simply, her mouth moving before she had the time to really think about how to properly answer. She wasn’t exactly a people person, and she quickly paled as she realized that she might have come off as rude. She fumbled, holding both of her hands up, a stuttering mess as she wracked her brain for the right words to say.

Once again though, she didn’t seem to need saving. You were laughing at her instantaneous reaction, finding humor in her awkwardness.

You found her endearing. Genuine people were few and far in between, and Ellie seemed to be one in a million. You could tell that she was the type of person that didn’t sugar coat things; she called em’ as she saw em’.

“Okay, okay,” You said through giggles, shaking your head. “So he isn’t your boyfriend.”

“Not at all. Joel is. . . well- he’s Joel. I was in foster care for a while, but he adopted me when I was fourteen.” This conversation was always a mood killer. Once the ‘O’ bomb was dropped, people often treated her differently. They danced around like they were standing on eggshells and looked at her like she was something to be pitied. Yeah, she had been an orphan, but she hadn’t had the opportunity to meet either of her parents. There was no one to miss. She had Joel, and she felt like that was all she ever really needed.

It was just her and Joel. That was her normal, and it was more than enough for her. Though. . . she’d probably die if she admitted that out loud to him. His brain would probably explode if she got all sappy around him, anyway.

“Well he sounds great then. Fourteen is a tough age- I bet you were super angsty.”

Ellie should have known that you’d be different. There was no “I’m sorry’s” or the awkward “dead parent” conversation.

“Oh, I was the worst.” Ellie agreed, a smile lighting up her features when she made you laugh for a third time. God, she must be on a roll.

“Well, here’s this,” You placed a twenty dollar bill on top of the ten dollar check. “You can keep the rest. I’ve been chatting your head off. I feel kinda bad.” You admitted, grabbing your purse and the small backpack that seemed to be packed to the brim with a child’s necessities.

Ellie could feel her palms beginning to sweat, so she nervously wiped them on the thighs of her black, well worn jeans. Should she ask for your number? Or would you see that as her shamelessly hitting on you and act weird?

Being gay, especially in a place like Jackson, was tough. Every female that she tried to make friends with got weird after she asked for their contact information, and men often saw her as some sort of accessory. As if hanging around her would make them look more non judgemental. That and the fact that males automatically assumed that she held all of the unshared, age-old mysteries of girlhood, and that she would divulge all of them.

“Hey-” Before she could even ask though, you had already opened your mouth.

“Do you mind if I asked for your phone number? Or if you feel more comfortable, I can get your instagra-”

“Phone number is great.” She breathed quickly, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen from her apron so that she could hand them over to you.

She would have just given you her number, but she was scared that she might never hear from you again. This way, she could be the person that built up the courage to call first. And she would. . . after a glass of whiskey. . . or a few hits from her bong.

You smiled warmly up at her, scribbling down your number as well as your name before folding it up into a square so that she could shove it into her back pocket.

“Have a good day. Don’t forget to text me, alright?” You shot her one last smile before picking your daughter up out of her highchair and placing her down on the ground. The little girl’s tiny shoes slapped against the floor as she walked quickly beside you, your hand already reaching down to grab a tight hold of her small palm.

You were almost out the door, the bell chiming as it swung open, when Ellie shuffled awkwardly.

“Drive safe!” She called out while she knew that you could still hear her.

You shot her one more megawatt smile before disappearing from view.  

“Drive safe.” Jesse imitated her voice from behind her, his arms crossed over his chest as he smirked down at the petite female.

“Do me a favor? Shut the fuck up.” Ellie gave his arm a light punch before walking back into the kitchen, praying that none of the cooks would give her a hard time about her very obviously flushed face.

why not to buy tlou2 remastered (please read).

[aquarelliwrites]

All Caught Up

SHIP: Max Verstappen x driver!Reader PROMPT: “I got you three gifts for Christmas. Since I wasn’t there for Valentine’s Day or your birthday-” “We weren’t even dating then!” CONTENT WARNINGS: slight alcohol consumption in the last scene, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n

3.1k

You sigh, the door shutting behind you with a soft click. Another one, and it locks. The keys get tossed unceremoniously into the decorative tray right next to the entrance, and your shoes get toed off soon after that. 

What a way to spend Valentine’s Day, huh? A transcontinental flight from Nice to Luton of all places, then waiting around for nearly an hour for your luggage to find itself on the revolving conveyor belt in front of you. Then, as if the universe itself had it out for you, the thin metal frame holding your umbrella together twists out of shape under the onslaught of wind - leaving you fuming in the cold rain for 45 minutes before your Uber arrives. The guy is apologetic, of course, and the traffic isn’t his fault, so you try your best to smile and reassure him it’s alright. Following that, you spend the half-hour drive to Milton Keynes attempting to warm up even slightly in your soaked coat.

Really, that whole monologue was a long way of saying the pre-RB20-launch meeting was cold, rainy and miserable in many ways. There were a couple of positive sides to it, though, you think as you unpack your bag in the hallway - your coworkers, both the ones who’d stay in the factory and who’d join you in the paddock, were all delightful and friendly, congratulating you on the promotion. The car itself looked fantastic - all smooth carbon fiber wrapped around the innards of the car like a silk sheet, covered in sponsor logos, sharp nose already pointing to another successful season for the team. 

And Max. He was… also there.

The dark and lonely flat seems to mock you at the very thought.

Well, no, that’s a rude way of putting it. Your most famous coworker was as kind as anyone else you’d met before and during that day. You’d already met before, when you became a reserve driver for the team the year before. Your first meeting face to face was nothing but pleasant, and you quickly found you both had a similar sense of humor.

You’re half-worried the kettle won't work after several months of abandonment. It turns on on the first try. You breathe a sigh of relief.

The problem arose in the fact that this grayscale day around you was eclipsed by his presence - as if he was the only object in full Technicolor - as soon as you’d noticed him. His smile was downright infectious, for one, and you honestly could have sworn your hand trembled when you clasped his in greeting.

“Hi, it’s great to meet you again.” He lit up the room with that smile, at least in your eyes. “Christian and the team have only sung your praises for the past few days.”

A softer sigh escapes you when you remember it, and your response: “Oh really? That’s good to hear - they haven’t exposed my worst secrets to you yet.”

“Your worst secrets?” He looked confused while you were busy taking off your coat.

“Yeah, you know,” you grinned, “that I’m secretly a terrible driver who has autopilot installed on her car, or that I’m awfully annoying. So they don’t scare you off, you know?”

To you, his laugh sounded like silver bells, and spring awakening in your chest, and a golden spark blooming into fireworks inside you, and every cliche thing you’ve ever read about in books. You had heard it in recorded interviews and distantly at parties you both got invited to, obviously, but the attraction fully hit you now that you were standing face to face.

Oh, attraction. That’s what it was. You hum and sit down on the couch, your teacup still scalding your fingertips. It's quiet everywhere but your thoughts. Actually, no, if you strain very hard, you might hear your downstairs neighbor's TV.

You couldn’t even fathom how headlines nicknamed him the rain of this cursed place, having spent half the meeting subtly glancing his way, and the other half trying to think of ways to look at him that weren’t… how should you put it? Outright creepy?

Hours later, you both stood in the car park under his umbrella - he’d insisted, and you really couldn’t bring yourself to say no. 

“What a Valentine’s Day, huh?” You chuckled, warming your hands in your pockets. He looked towards you - fuck, his eyes were beautiful - and shrugged.

“Never was a fan, really.”

“Me neither. I’ve never had anyone stick around long enough to celebrate properly.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Any plans, then?”

“Not really. They set me up with a flat here back in December, so I’m just heading there for the night. Might get real freaky and order pizza, or something crazy like that.”

“Ooh, don’t go too wild.” He chuckled, and you joined heartily.

The LED headlights of your Uber bathed you both in white light, and you stepped out from under the umbrella. “Thanks for everything, Max. I’m looking forward to this season.”

“Yeah, no problem.” The pitter-patter of raindrops against concrete nearly drowned out his reply as you walked towards the car. He lingered for a moment, gazing at your retreating silhouette through the sheets of rain before unlocking his own car and leaving the car park empty of people once more.

You’re content to stare out of the window now, watching the raindrops race down the glass. The launch is tomorrow, and they'll announce you as the second Red Bull Racing driver. The world will either accept it, or be forced to deal with you for a year.

Truly? Honestly? You're just looking forward to becoming friends with Max.

It is barely 9 in the morning, but the late-July sun is dead-set on giving you a headache today, apparently.

The automated gates at the paddock entrance let you through, and a couple of photographers spot you from a short distance, snapping photos immediately. You grin joyfully, throwing up a peace sign at them before checking your watch.

You have time to make a detour.

The fans at the barrier buzz with excitement when you approach them, and you find yourself in an easy conversation with the front-most ones. It’s nice to hear people are fans of you sometimes, so what?

A girl thanks you profusely for signing her poster, and extends a pink friendship bracelet towards you. “Oh, here’s a birthday gift!”

“Aw, I love it, thank you! Do we match?” You smile, tightening it around your left wrist, right below your watch. The girl simply responds by showing her own wrist - indeed, she has a matching one.

The short detour takes longer than expected, and shortly, one of the  social media girls comes to find you. “You’re all great, thanks for coming to free practice!” You wave goodbye and jog to catch up to your coworker.

Your side of the garage is experiencing an unusual amount of activity, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s happening - the people weren’t too subtle with their cameras either.

“She’s here, she’s here!” Someone yells, and you’re ushered into the middle of the crowd to stand in front of Anthea, your race engineer. Who is, shockingly, holding a cake.

“Happy birthday!!” The crowd roars, and you spot a bunch of the drivers hanging around as well - not that it isn’t obvious, what with the colorful fireproofs in a sea of navy polos. Charles and Pierre are standing somewhere in the middle of the crowd, Carlos and Lando in the back (granted, talking animatedly with each other as soon as the congratulating was over), Oscar and Logan to your left, close by. Max, of course, right next to Anthea.

The cake itself is Red Bull blue and checkered black-and-white on the top, a small model of your car right on top, surrounded by 22 lit candles.

In that instant, you feel indescribably loved. And it's a beautiful, sparkling feeling.

Are those tears rolling down your cheeks? Oh no, they are. And you worked so hard on your eyeliner today - you feel Oscar and Logan each put an arm around your shoulders as you wipe the skin under your eyes dry. 

“Happy birthday, dude. You’re finally old enough for preschool.” You yelp when Oscar ruffles your hair lovingly and swat at his hand.

“No, Osc, come on!” You laugh through tears, fixing your hair hurriedly. “Who organized this?”

Anthea grins at you, and Max suddenly looks extremely invested in the concrete floor underneath Logan’s feet. “Max suggested it, I think he was the only one who knew about it? Other than, like, Horner and the people who did your paperwork.”

A soft blush appears on your face, though you feel it burning your cheeks and ears to high heaven. Or at least that’s what it feels like - maybe it doesn’t look so bad to everyone around you. “You guys are the best, seriously. Thank you, Max, and everyone for making it happen.”

“Yeah, yeah, you big sap. Blow out the candles already.” Logan pipes up, and the entire garage chuckles. You roll your eyes in mock annoyance, but lean forward with a silent wish in mind, and blow them out in one breath.

Afterwards, you vaguely remember Oscar trying to shove your face into the cake when the candles and car were taken off - and failing - but the minutes after were so chaotic that it felt like one moment you were standing there, hugging your best friends, and the next you’re sat atop a countertop with Max, both attacking the chocolate cake with vigor. 

“Oh my God, this is so good,” you practically moan, your mouth full. “Is this Belgian chocolate?”

Max is swinging his legs, hitting your right calf rhythmically with his foot. “Yeah, I think so. I’d be disappointed if it wasn’t.”

“Me, too,” you nod, licking off the ganache stuck to your fork. “Hopefully practice won’t be a complete tragedy today.”

“It’ll be good. The data shows it,” he says, completely sure of himself, before hurriedly adding, “I think. I- well, I know. Anthea told me.”

“Good, then. It’ll just be my shit driving that will put me in the wall then.” You nudge his shoulder with yours, but his core strength is greater than you expect and, alas, he doesn’t even move. For a moment, you kind of want to stay stuck to him, leeching off his body heat.

However, it is July, and you are just friends.

He nudges you back - more like shoves, you nearly go flying - and clicks his tongue. “You always say that, but it only happened in Canada. And it wasn’t even your fault.”

You blush, again. Annoyingly. Were you overthinking, or was he keeping track of your results during the season?

“And you’ve already got three podiums. It’s great for a rookie.”

He was definitely keeping track.

You lower your head, smiling. “Thanks, Max. Seriously. For the surprise and the support you’ve given me - it means so, so much.”

“It’s really no problem. I think you’re very talented.”

“I can’t believe you knew when my birthday was,” you pipe up when he takes a breath in between monologues.

It’s evening now, and the late July sun is streaming golden light through the window of Max’ room at the Belgium Grand Prix paddock. You’re standing in the doorway, chewing on your drinking straw absentmindedly while he talks about the data gathered in FP1 and FP2 - as if you weren’t in the debrief together. Or, you know, as if you don't drive the same car. It’s a habit of his that many could find annoying and is nothing but endearing to you.

He looks a bit taken aback, but after a moment simply says “I can’t believe no one’s ever celebrated it with you like this.”

You shrug. “People don’t really stick around enough. Or, most of the time, my friends and family were too far away to make plans,” is your reply. “You know how it is - moving to Monaco as soon as you can and leaving everyone behind.”

“It’s a shame, though.” He’s studying your face now, and you feel some emotion between ‘uncomfortable’ and ‘flustered’ when you notice how he’s checking you out. Or maybe he isn’t?

“It is, but so what?” 

“You deserve to celebrate your birthday properly.” He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s a no-brainer. Which it may be - you’ve had birthdays, and they were great, but they seem like such a long-lost part of your childhood that it takes you a moment to remember when you last held a party.

“I did. Just- well, just not with other people.” You did. Really. You took yourself out to breakfasts and treated yourself to flowers and books and new shoes, occasionally. It’s just that you did it alone most of the time.

“Would you be opposed to celebrating with other people?” Why does he look like he has something planned?

“...Do you have something planned?”

“No, but we could go hang out. Grab dinner somewhere, and a drink after, maybe?” 

It’s a casual request, and you feel inclined to accept. Maybe you’re a bit brave, or a bit stupid, or just a bit head-over-heels when you laugh softly and nod. “Sure, what is this? A date?”

Now he’s the one who looks flustered. “Uh… sure. If you want it to be one.” 

“Sure.” You’re smiling again, and when he moves on to his next talking point, you’re more than happy to keep chewing on your straw and listening.

Ripping open the wrapping paper to reveal a plain cardboard box, you send the camera guy in front of you a worried glance.

It’s a lovely, warm November morning in Abu Dhabi, and the Secret Santa event is wrapping up. You had gotten Logan - who was practically too easy to shop for - but now it’s your turn to open your present, and you’re nervous.

“Hopefully it won’t explode?” You joke, then run your nail under the piece of tape holding the box closed. When you manage to get it open, your lips curl upwards into a bright smile.

The box is full to the brim without any of the items cluttering together - whoever packed this had to have put immense care into it. You spot a pair of fuzzy socks, candles, bath salts, a bottle of French wine, and many other small self-care items.

“Aww, this is so sweet- Oh, there’s no way.” You pull out the last thing, which is a copy of ‘The Book Thief’ by Markus Zusak. “This is my favorite book,” you tell the camera, having a sense of who this is from, “and I remember I was talking to Max the other day about how sad I was that I lost my copy on a flight a few months ago. We agreed to start a book club over winter break.” 

The media employees chuckle at the thought, and you join them. “More like, I made him. Yeah, this is from him.”

“It is.” The woman holding the microphone confirms.

They leave you sitting on the white couch on the terrace, a small smile still tugging at the corners of your lips while you read what he’d written on the inside cover:

‘Sorry I can’t hang out - my weekend is fully booked. How about Christmas at my place? - Max’

You roll your eyes and giggle. What an idiot.

Your idiot.

“Alright.” He starts when you both settle on the shaggy beige carpet in his living room. You’re both a bit buzzed - both having had screwdrivers for late Christmas breakfast, champagne on the balcony before lunch, red wine with the lunch itself, and now you’re nursing a mimosa while he finishes the champagne. Talk about day drinking.

“Alright. Presents, right? How do you want to, like… Should we alternate?” Your head tilts at the size of the pile of presents you definitely knew you didn’t bring.

“I was thinking we could go one by one, from the top, and just sort them by whose name is on it?” He suggests, legs stretching out in front of him. You smile when he playfully nudges your calf with his foot.

“Sounds good,” you nod, taking one last sip for the time being and leaving your glass on the coffee table.

Max reaches for the first present you got him - it’s wrapped in red and green with an obnoxiously large bow on the top - and is delighted when he sees that you’ve gotten him diecast models of his and your 2024 cars, different only in the numbers and the yellow T-cam on yours. He promises to keep them on his desk with a laugh, and hands you the next present.

Inexplicably, it’s wrapped in pink. With hearts all over it. And another obnoxiously large bow on top.

Wondering if he may secretly be colorblind (or unaware of Christmas traditions), you peer up at him with brows furrowed in confusion. Meanwhile, he’s handing you another two boxes: one white one with party hats all over, and another with a candy cane pattern.

“I got you three big presents. Since I wasn’t there for Valentine’s Day,” he says. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Or your birthday.”

You can feel yourself start tearing up. “Max…”

He grimaces. “I’m so sorry. Should I have gotten more-”

“Max. We weren’t…” You swipe the tear off your left cheek, a little bit of eye pencil coming off with it. The alcohol is making you emotional, you tell yourself. “We weren’t even dating back then.”

“You were alone, though. I mean we did go on that date for your birthday, but it was just dinner. I, just…” He trails off, pulling at the carpet fibers. “You deserved better for this year.”

You set the box down gently, and move over to sit on his lap. He’s a little surprised when you hug him tightly, but he embraces you back quickly, one of his hands immediately reaching up to play with your hair.

“You’re one of the most thoughtful people I know. Thank you.” You whisper, and you can hear an exhale of a laugh when your breath tickles the back of his neck.

“It’s my pleasure, shatje.” He pats your shoulder, and you kiss him with a giggle still on your lips. Crawling off of him, you turn your attention back to the presents he gave you. The pink box holds the silkiest, softest cami nightgown you’ve ever touched; the one with party hats, a signed copy of your favorite author’s newest novel laying on top of a heavy navy blue knitted blanket. Arguably, though, the Christmas one is your favorite - a pair of Lightning McQueen Crocs. Signed by Charles Leclerc.

“You’re ridiculous,” you burst out laughing again while he only smirks and pours his champagne flute full once more. 

“You know it, darling."

Liked this? Check out my masterlist!

[project-sekai-facts]

do u think prsk writing is good?

it's inconsistent. sometimes it's pretty good, sometimes it's not so good. this is something i would like to go way more indepth on but i don't think i'll have the time for a while, but i'll outline a few things here.

honestly early events are much stronger than some more recent ones. partially this is preference on my part due to preferring more character driven stuff which most early events were, but also in general the writing was much higher quality.

most year one events had a very strong sense of flow between them that has been lost over time. while events usually revolved around one character's issues, they would introduce aspects of the other characters and their issues which would be focused on later. if you read wonder halloween you'll notice there's foreshadowing for emu's arc across smile of dreamer and wonder magical showtime. this is partially because of the fact the events were so early on. we weren't as familiar with the characters as we are now and we were also new to the plots. you can also see how much more cohesive stories were back then as well because of there being way more mixed events marked as key story, like twilight parade and sakura for ln and picnic for n25. while most events still pick up from where the previous left off the sense of flow for most units just isn't felt as strongly as it was going through, say, l/n arc 1.

it also in some ways feels like the writers had a much stronger vision for early events than they do now, though distribution meta may come into play a bit. first arcs were the ones planned from the getgo. this is what they had already planned ahead for by launch. pretty much everything past year 1 was written after the game launched. we know they have a clear end, and it's evident they also had a clear start. we're currently filling in the middle and some events really feel like there's a slight lack of vision for the middle. vbs is a good aversion what with rad weekend having happened (aside from arata and souma's arcs lmfao), but other units and characters feel shafted.

to add to that last point as well as distribution meta. tsukasa5 is arguably one of the hardest hit. what seems to have happened is that they needed a second wxs event to focus on daigo's troupe, and tsukasa is the character who is most fitting for that troupe's speciality. unfortunately in order to come up with the actual plot, they had to retcon elements of tsukasa's character. tsukasa5 overall is probably one of the worst written of the recent events. it's really rough and doesn't make sense in some parts. it truly just exists bc they needed a wxs event with daigo and a wxs event in that slot.

kanade is another character who got hit hard. while she had the white day event in 2024, she was heavily shafted in terms of n25's story due to the focus being on mizuki and ena for half the year. mafuyu and ena's events were also very focused on them as individuals, leading to kanade getting like no character development for a year.

for non-2024 examples the 2nd arc enders were a mixed bag. step by step is very clearly a shoe-in because they needed to pad for time. retie functions perfectly well as an arc ender and reads like one in a few places, especially near the end. while minori had some good moments in this event it honestly feels like a mixed event. hell look at the banner card. shizuku and airi are also only in this event for a few lines of dialogue it's really rough.

oyf is incredibly rushed and tries to wrap up way too many loose ends from lutf. it feels like this arc was cut short, and you can really feel it in arc 3 when all the loose ends that still existed after oyf get their proper conclusion. side characters barring kotaro excluded, tatsuya and gurney flap had the shittest resolutions ever (tatsuya is also. barely a character lol). kohane had some good moments here, but other than that it was a really weak event.

same can be said for ohe they really needed more time and it's painfully obvious considering how much foreshadowing they did with rui only for... him to get one chapter in an emu event. there's some other things that really make this feel like it was meant to be rui or be two events one rui one emu, like the travelling troupe show. remember when rui wrote that show about his life and wxs rewrote it to show him he had a place with them. clpl doesn't. obviously it's always been important to all of them but it's significance to rui specifically has always been highlighted for obvious reasons. hell it was even mentioned in wxs first live like a couple weeks before this event dropped. while again this has good emu moments and good wxs moments it's painfully obvious at points that this was either a rui focus at one point or they combined two events. i wonder if part of the reason for that is because they realised that rui graduates at the end of the next arc so "wxs disbandment arc 2" (tentative name) will probably be more centered around him, especially with asahi's return looming over the story, and they didn't wanna make it seem like they did the same character arc with him twice.

sayonara persona and starry song are fine.

clpl really fucked themselves over with wles and the event schedule lol.

another issue with the writing from a technical standpoint is that recent events have really obnoxious exposition. listen i know we all make fun of people who only read chapter 1 and 8 of an event but did you know that actually works. you can sometimes even just read chapter 8. there's this need to constantly remind the player of stuff that happened earlier on in the event, sometimes in gratuitous detail, and i can understand why this might be necessary for the really long events like lutf or curtain call, but most events since 3rd anni have been under 1hr 30, in most cases just over an hour. the player can retain significant events that happened in the previous chapter. we don't need it constantly explained and it can actually make the audience less engaged if you constantly treat them like they don't understand what's going on. even for a game aimed at the tween/teen demographic you don't need to handhold them through the story. while yes younger audiences won't have the same literacy as an adult you should also trust that they can follow the basic story and read into basic subtext (honestly prsk is usually fine with subtext this is just an example).

"outline a few things" my ass this is pretty much everything i wanted to say. i do games writing next year and i think we cover VNs so maybe i can provide more insight then if the blog isn't dead.

(obligatory i'm not saying you can't like the events i outlined here i'm just saying that from an objective standpoint they're not the best. doesn't mean you can't find enjoyment in them. like whatever you want i'm not here to dictate your opinions)

[sirenscriptures]

primarchs + fantasies

summary: basically just a ramble thirst post because i want to drag 30k/40k into my already mess of a blog. i’m still figuring out certain pieces of characterization/lore so be patient with me here <3 i am suffering this brainrot and dragging you down with me!

warnings/notes: nsfw themes (18+ only), fem-bodied depicted reader, mentions/depictions of exhibitionism, of course size difference, hints of breeding kinks, slight mention of blood drawing, bondage/rope play. (these are partial fantasies i think they’d have but also they are genuinely so touch starved i think even the slightest form of physical intimacy could make them combust. in a good way.)

featuring: lion el’jonson, fulgrim, leman russ, magnus, sanguinius, mortarion, and horus lupercal (pre-heresy)

lion el’jonson

look, if there’s one thing each of the primarchs could use in some way, it’s a fucking break. lion is definitely one of those primarchs. the man has always been on high alert, and has never truly known how to relax. that is, until he bonded with you.

the fact he’s found himself so close to you is quite a milestone of sorts. being a primarch of many secrets, you can assert that he isn’t someone who trusts easily. he doesn't let many others know what his deeper thoughts contain, not even some of his own blood.

however, it’s almost like he’s a different person in your presence. when he’s with you, he feels a profound sense of peace, like he can shut his mind off from his usual stressors and worries. especially during your alone time.

but it’s when he’s completely alone (a rare occurrence) that his thoughts tend to wander more than usual. it isn’t a total shock in the slightest when all he can think about is you. but when his thoughts are crowded with curiosities of what sounds you’d make while on top of him and how you’d feel wrapped around him…yeah it gets a little concerning to someone of his stature.

the thoughts of you like this start small…then they bloom into much more , to the point where if he even looks your direction when in this state of mind he’s a stuttering, flustered mess. a completely rare state for a primarch to be caught in, yet here we are.

so, it’s safe to say that while lion isn’t one to deeply “fantasize” like some of his brothers might, his intrusive thoughts about you certainly have a habit of spiraling and he has to physically slap himself to snap out of it.

fulgrim

in terms of fantasies, where do we even start with fulgrim? ever since you let him get close to you, whether that be on a personal or physical level, it was like opening pandora’s box. when you get him started, there is no going back.

it doesn’t have to be much to get him started with you. just your beauty alone and seeing you smile at him could get his dirtier thoughts racing. (horny bastard <3)

the fact that you were totally oblivious for a while of the power you held over him was amusing at times. though he was much bigger than you, he often thought about what you would do if he let you take the reins over him.

even just the thought of your soft hands running over his bare body could make him shiver. he could picture perfectly how beautiful you’d look if he had you on top of him. but he could also picture how beautiful you’d look if he had you in front of a mirror.

the way your delicate frame would lean against his chest as he fucked into you, massive hands roaming all about your perfect body…

most of the time he has to stop himself from thinking any further, for just the thoughts alone aren’t enough. maybe he’ll show you what he means when you’re alone with him in his chambers.

leman russ

if you want to delve into literal ferality, it is absolutely leman’s brain. and his actions, of course. so it isn’t far fetched to say his fantasies about you are in the same realm as his normal thought processes.

now, just because he is one of the more “feral” primarchs doesn’t mean he lacks complete restraint. but when it comes to you, let’s just say his restraint goes a bit…out the window if you know what i mean.

when his mind does wander and you’re not around, he tends to imagine showing you off. exhibiting how well he can pleasure you and how good you look while he does it to you. he doesn’t mind those of his legion seeing him with you like this, and even when you two are alone during these moments, he almost wants someone to see.

he would love to display the way he makes you whimper and squirm around him while rutting into you. though, he won’t let anyone get the wrong idea. you’re his, and he won’t let you forget that in the slightest.

but that’s not even half of what he’d like to do to you. and you can tell so blatantly in the way he teases you, unashamed of who’s around when he makes his usual remarks. but at the same time, he does it all out of love. he knows how annoyed you get from him pushing your buttons all the time, but he can tell you wouldn’t change it for anything.

magnus the red

for someone who sees most physical intimacy as a “waste of time” like a few of his other brothers, he certainly doesn’t stick to that thought process when it's you he's thinking about.

with magnus being as knowledgeable as he is, it genuinely frustrates him when he can’t figure out at first why he feels this way about someone like you. yet the more time he spends around you, and the more you show how open you are to learning from him and that you actually listen to him, the more these feelings start to increase.

in a strange way, he feels comforted by you. though when he’s closer to you than usual, these feelings of comfort seem to…deepen into more than he first expected.

even though he can’t pinpoint it at first, he finds that every time he’s away from you, the want for your presence grows within him like some sort of hunger. yet, it’s now laced with the craving to feel your touch.

his mind is generous in being able to envision you beneath him, body trembling with arousal as his touch travels your bare skin, admiring and caressing every inch of you. all of his senses are ablaze; the craving for your touch, voice, scent, everything becoming too much for even someone of his stature to endure.

shaking away these thoughts is much more of a challenge than magnus would first anticipate. but now that he’s come to this self discovery, he doesn’t want to waste anymore time merely thinking about it.

sanguinius

while sanguinius is the more compassionate of the primarchs when it comes to overall personality, don’t let that fool you. when this man gets down, he’s an absolute freak.

on a serious note, the one thing sanguinius loves is spoiling you, on all levels, of course. but he just has a little bit of extra fun when he gets to do it to you physically. he does love when you return the favor, but if he’s being completely honest he likes it more when he gets to please you.

when he’s with you in an ordinary setting, he doesn’t let his more “sinful” thoughts take over. out of many of his siblings, he is certainly one of the most restrained and can control himself when it comes to feelings such as these. one of the lucky ones, he supposes.

but despite being able to hide it, you do make it quite difficult at times. it can be anything that triggers that burning within him—the way you unsuspectingly bat your eyelashes when you stare at him, or when you look so bashful when he greets you with a kiss on your hand. or even when you accidentally brush up against one of his wings. and you aren’t even aware you do so much to him physically…

yet there’s not much that gets him going quite like the thought of driving you absolutely mad with pleasure (much like fulgrim if we’re being honest here). whether it’s the thought of how you’d react to his head in between your thighs until your legs tremble uncontrollably, or how pretty you’d sound when he drains just the slightest bit of blood from your tender neck…

sometimes he’s left heavy-breathed at the thought, and you’re not even in the same room as him. if only you were aware of the effects you had on him. though, something inside sanguinius felt as though it wouldn’t be a mystery for much longer.

mortarion

believe it or not, mortarion is not a total stranger to these kinds of thoughts. though, it’s much more intensified since you’re the only person he’s had these thoughts about.

with mortarion being one of the more distant and reserved of his brothers, his sex drive is one of those things he’s never had to deal with since he’s never felt this way about anyone else before. so it’s no surprise how easily pent up he can become.

even just the slightest things you do can get him electrified, and the poor, touch and affection-starved soul doesn’t even fully understand why. the way you smiled at him with genuine fondness from a distance the other day? he’s still thinking about it for weeks. the way your hand gently brushed against his face by mistake? still has him reeling even when he’s in your presence.

the way his thoughts of you overwhelm him is far from easy to deal with, and you immediately notice the way his behavior changes in response to these newer sensations.

it’s so much worse when he’s away from you for long periods of time, though. his mind is racing with everything from how beautiful you would look tied up in various positions; the imprints of rope staining your soft skin, to what sweet sounds he could get you to make in response to his mouth in between your legs.

his poor legionaries when they have to deal with him in this state…he’s so helplessly tuned out from everything and they have not a clue what’s going on with their primarch. but he won’t have to worry much longer, for he’ll be venting his sexual frustrations out on you when you’re both reunited.

horus lupercal (pre-heresy)

honestly, what doesn’t horus think about when he’s thinking about you? not many people can make his mind wander to even the most dangerous of places like you can. while he isn’t sure how this all started, he is far from complaining. honestly, what doesn’t horus think about when he’s thinking about you? not many people can make his mind wander to even the most dangerous of places like you can. while he isn’t sure how this all started, he is far from complaining.

the way he is around you is his usual self, but his thoughts about you aren’t restrained in the slightest. you’re so captivating, and while he wants to hang on every word you say to him, he can’t help but fantasize in the process.

horus doesn’t expect you to have a very strong effect on him at first, yet he’s proved wrong very quickly when he’s away from you. when he’s finally alone is when it hits him.

he thinks about how much he’d love it if he had you all to himself. he could imagine spoiling you in every way imaginable, but especially physically. he could imagine all the noises he could cause you to make, and all of the sensations he could make you feel. but most of all, he could imagine breeding you—filling you up with his seed to where you know that you’re his.

from there, you’re the cause of all of horus’ sleepless nights until he gets to see you again…