#i was too lazy to come up with a proper dress or more. we are watching jojos

[lexiputellas]

Secondhand Lies from the broken vows series

Alexia was already leaning against her car when you pulled into the lot, parked just behind hers. She looked up from her phone the moment your headlights dimmed, slipping it into her back pocket like she hadn’t just been checking to see if you’d show. You stepped out, tugging your sleeves down. The air still held some late afternoon warmth.

“Hey,” she said, voice soft. “Thanks for coming.”

You nodded. No smile, no hug. She didn’t try, which helped.

The bike shop was brighter than it had any right to be—sunlight poured through the high windows, catching on rows of glossy pastel bikes and glitter-dusted helmets. It smelled like rubber, fresh plastic, and something faintly metallic. The guy working the floor had a lazy ponytail and a grin like this was the best part of his day.

“She’s eight,” Alexia told him as he approached. “Been asking for gears for months.”

You stayed back, trailing your fingers along a row of kid-sized helmets, one shaped like a unicorn. It had a chipped horn. Nora would’ve loved it.

“Do you remember when she tried riding in the hallway?” Alexia called over her shoulder. “Slammed into the cabinet and screamed like we’d broken her.”

You smiled a little. Couldn’t help it. “She still says the cabinet jumped at her.”

Alexia grinned—one of those easy, unguarded ones she used to give you on soft days. “That bruise looked exactly like a doorframe.”

Ponytail Guy returned with a few options, rambling about frame weight and handlebar grips. Alexia crouched beside each one like she was choosing a spaceship. You watched from a few steps back, arms crossed, nostalgia pressing into your chest in that cold, deceptive way it does—familiar but never gentle.

“This one’s good, no?” she asked, brushing her hand over a mint green model. “Not too heavy. Pretty color.”

You tilted your head. “It’s cute.”

“She’s going to lose her mind,” Alexia murmured. “She’ll love it.”

They brought the bike out to the lot. It didn’t fit in her trunk, of course, but she tried anyway—muttering in Spanish as she twisted the frame, then sighing in loud, dramatic frustration.

“I’ll take it in mine,” you said, already unlocking your car.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. We can hide it in the garage until Saturday.”

She looked at you like she wanted to say something else. But all she said was, “Vale.”

The next stop wasn’t far. You parked nearby and walked the rest of the way—past a few boutiques and a small dress shop where Alexia paused in front of the window.

“You’d look good in that one,” she said, voice low, unreadable.

You didn’t answer.

Nora’s favorite art store sat nestled between a wine shop and a bakery. Inside, it smelled like wood shavings and pigment. You moved through the aisles with quiet precision. The birthday list was specific—metallic watercolor pens, oil pastels, proper sketch paper. She was eight, but she’d long outgrown the kiddie sets.

You didn’t speak much. Just corrected Alexia gently when she reached for the wrong markers. She paid. You took the bag.

Outside, the city had slipped into that soft, dusky calm—storefronts glowing amber, people moving slow, the hush of evening setting in. You stood at the curb, bag in hand, your body already angling toward your car.

Alexia didn’t follow.

“You know that restaurant you liked,” she said casually, like it wasn’t planned. “The one with the blue awning? It’s just around the corner.”

You turned toward her, slow. She met your gaze steadily.

“We could go,” she said. “If you’re hungry. I know I am.”

You hesitated. The pause hung between you—cool, uncertain.

“I don’t know, Alexia…”

“It’s just dinner.” Her tone was even. “Nothing more.”

You hated that she still knew how to say things like that—calm, clean, deliberate. Like she wasn’t asking for something. Like she didn’t care if you said yes.

She stepped closer, but not too close. “One hour. You’ll be home before Dolores even thinks about calling.”

Your mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. But something in your chest shifted.

“Fine,” you said, like it cost you.

She didn’t gloat. Just nodded, a flicker of something soft at the corner of her mouth. She turned, expecting you to follow.

And somehow, you did.

The restaurant was, warm the night lights spilled from the windows. Inside, small round tables flickered with candles. Alexia held the door open. She didn’t touch your back, didn’t lean in. But her presence was close—constant, magnetic, annoyingly familiar.

It smelled like garlic and wine and butter. Jazz played low over hidden speakers. The hostess led you to a small corner table, just secluded enough to feel like a memory.

You slid into your seat. She sat across from you, coat draped behind her, sleeves pushed to her elbows like she belonged here.

Like this wasn’t strange.

“It’s weird being back,” she said, glancing around. “Do you remember that night after Madrid? When we ordered every dessert?”

“I remember you flirting with the waiter for free champagne.”

Alexia laughed, easy and warm. “He was into me.”

“He was not.”

“I tipped him like he was.”

You huffed, against your will. She smiled at the sound, then picked up her menu.

You ordered quickly—pasta, something safe. She chose seafood. No questions. No push to get wine. That quiet restraint hit harder than it should’ve.

For a while, neither of you said much.

Then, gently: “So… how are you? Really?”

You stared at her “I don’t know what answer you’re hoping for.”

“The real one.”

You exhaled. “I’m figuring things out.”

She nodded, waiting.

“It’s not easy,” you said. “Being around you. Not knowing if this—any of this—means anything. Or if it’s just another memory we’re pretending still fits.”

Her face shifted, faint and brief. “I know I fucked up.”

“You say that. But I don’t think you understand what it did to me.”

“I’m trying,” she said. “Maybe not perfectly. But I am.”

“I need more than that,” you said, voice quiet. “I need to believe you actually respect me. Respect what we had.”

Her hand inched forward on the table—closer, but not touching. She didn’t reach for you. Didn’t promise anything. Just watched you like she wanted to, but wasn’t sure if she had the right.

The food came. You ate in silence.

It wasn’t until your second glass of water that you noticed the waitress. She set it down without looking at either of you. Her shoulders stiff. Her mouth tight. She didn’t meet your eyes.

Alexia stared straight ahead.

You didn’t understand the tension in your chest until later, when you excused yourself and walked to the bathroom. Just to fix your makeup. Just to breathe.

You didn’t hear the door open behind you until it shut again.

The waitress stood by the sink. She checked the stalls, then paused.

“I’m sorry,” she said, quiet. “I don’t mean to make this worse.”

You turned. “What?”

”She’s your girlfriend?”

You blinked. “Wife.”

Her face changed. “Oh. I didn’t know.”

You waited. A slow, cold ache began in your stomach.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” she said quickly. “But then I saw you. And… you deserve to know.”

“Know what?”

“I hooked up with her. A few weeks ago. She didn’t mention you. She didn’t mention anyone.”

You stopped breathing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just… couldn’t pretend.”

You didn’t answer. Just left.

Alexia stood the second she saw your face.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel well.”

“Wait—do you want me to—”

“No.”

She stepped back. “Can I call you later?”

You didn’t answer.

Outside, the air had turned sharp. Your fingers trembled as you unlocked the car. You sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the wheel, until the tears came—sharp, bitter, unstoppable.

Because it wasn’t fair.

You should’ve known better.

But knowing didn’t make it hurt less.

[hoshifighting]

healing sex with woozi? when he's been feeling down and you just had a bad day too, both of you finding comfort and pleasure in each other's arms? 🥺 pretty please, and thank you!!

healing sex with woozi

WARNINGS: workaholicsm, burnouts, penetrative sex, smut, fingering, clit stimulation, dirty talk, sensitiviness.

the sound of the shower filled th bathroom, water cascading down your back, warm and comforting like a hug. your forehead rested against the cool tiles, and your eyes were shut, the world beyond the steam and the spray fading into white noise. the soap had been rinsed off long ago, but you didn’t care. this was the only peace you’d had all day, and you weren’t ready to leave it behind.

until you heard his voice behind you, soft laced with that quiet kind of love only woozi carried.

“dry yourself and come to bed,” he said gently, his words cutting through the fog.

you turned your head, not startled in the slightest. there he was, already pulling his shirt over his head, his hair falling into his eyes, damp from the humidity of the bathroom.

“you’ll catch a cold if you stay in there too long,” he added, his tone light, but the corners of his mouth hinted at exhaustion.

“just a minute,” you mumbled, stealing a quick kiss as you passed by him. his lips lingered against yours for half a second longer, like he was holding onto the brief connection for dear life. you grabbed your towel and started drying off, catching glimpses of him through the mirror as he stepped under the spray of the shower. the way his shoulders slumped, the way his movements were sluggish—it was all too familiar. it mirrored your own.

he was tired. not just tired—drained.

you’d noticed it the past few nights, the way his side of the bed was cold long after you’d fallen asleep. the faint glow of his computer screen leaking under the door when you got up to use the bathroom.

you wrapped the towel around yourself half-heartedly and stumbled to the bed, not even bothering with proper clothes. you were spent, and all you wanted was the solace of soft sheets and woozi’s arms around you. when he joined you a few minutes later, his hair was damp and messy, a towel draped over his shoulders. he sat on the edge of the bed, his back to you, his voice quiet.

“how was your day?”

you buried your face in the pillow, groaning softly. “can we… not talk about it?”

he turned his head slightly, and you could see the understanding in his profile, the way his lips pressed into a thin line as he nodded.

“yeah,” he murmured. “same. today wasn’t one of my best either. didn’t work here—had to go into the office.”

you reached out, your hand finding his wrist, pulling him down beside you.

he laid down willingly, his body curling around yours as you turned to face him. the silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“come here,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around him, your fingers brushing through his damp hair.

“you’re still wet,” you teased lightly, earning a soft huff of laughter from him.

“you’re not even dressed,” he shot back, his voice warmer now, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

you both chuckled, the sound melting into the stillness of the room. you rolled your eyes, dragging the blanket up a little higher over your shoulders. “and? you act like that’s new.”

he snorted, shaking his head as his hand started tracing lazy circles on your hip. “you’re such a brat sometimes, you know that?”

“mm, yeah, but you love me for it,” you quipped back, smirking.

he leaned down, his nose brushing against yours as his lips ghosted over your mouth. “you’re lucky i do.”

the kiss was slow, like the both of you were too drained to pour more into it. but then you sighed softly into his mouth, and it was like something broke loose in him. his hand tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips.

“jihoon…” you mumbled against him, your voice muffled, but he didn’t stop. his lips moved down your jaw, brushing over your neck, planting kisses that sent little shocks through your tired body.

“shh,” he murmured, his voice low, and it felt like honey dripping over your skin. “let me take care of you.”

“you’re the one who’s exhausted,” you whispered, but it came out weak, breathy, and not at all convincing as his teeth grazed that one spot on your neck. your hips shifted instinctively, pressing against him.

“i know,” he said, chuckling softly. “guess we’ll just take care of each other.”

before you could say anything else, his hand slid down, pushing the blanket aside. his fingers skimmed over your thigh, warm and teasing, before they dipped between your legs.

you gasped softly, your body arching as his thumb rubbed over your clit. “jihoon—”

he kissed you again, cutting you off. “don’t think too hard,” he murmured against your lips. “just feel.”

his fingers slid inside you, and you almost jolted at how good it felt after all that time without sex. he curled them just right, his thumb never leaving that spot, and it was enough to make your head spin.

your hands clutched at his shoulders, your moans swallowed up by his mouth as he kept kissing you. your hips started moving on their own, riding his fingers as he worked you open, his pace unrelenting despite how tired he had to be.

“so fucking good for me,” he whispered, his voice rough in a way that made your stomach tighten.

“hoo—hoon,” you stuttered, barely able to get his name out as he hit that spot inside you, over and over.

“yeah?” he teased, his lips brushing over your jaw as his fingers sped up just slightly. “tell me.”

“feel so good,” you managed to whimper, your thighs trembling as you clung to him. “so, so good—”

he smirked, his lips quirking up as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “knew you’d say that.”

you barely heard him, too lost in the feeling, but then he was pulling his hand away, and you almost whined at the loss.

“hey—”

“relax,” he said, chuckling softly. “you’re gonna get all of me, baby. just… hold on.”

you watched, breathless, as he stripped off the rest of his clothes. when he finally pressed himself against you, the weight of him settling over you, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

“you good?” he asked softly, his hand cupping your cheek as he looked down at you.

you nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

he pushed inside you slowly, inch by inch, his forehead dropping to yours as he let out a shaky breath.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained. “you feel—god, im so sensitive baby.”

your nails dragged softly along his shoulders, down his back, and he shuddered at the contact, his breath catching against your cheek. his hips stuttered, a barely-there falter in his rhythm, and you knew—you both knew—how sensitive you were. it had been weeks since you had each other like this, and the pent-up tension was spilling over in every breathless gasp, every desperate thrust.

“fuck, jihoon,” you moaned, your voice breathy, a little cracked, like you were trying to hold it together and failing. “i missed this so much. missed you so much.”

he groaned low in his throat, his forehead pressing harder against yours as his hips moved faster, grinding deeper into you. “missed you too,” he murmured. “fuck—you feel so good. better than i even remembered.”

you gasped at his words, a shudder running down your backbone as his hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, you could barely stop the way your hips bucked against him.

“you can’t say shit like that,” you whined, your voice catching as he hit that one spot inside you that had your eyes rolling back. “not when i’m already this close—”

“yeah?” he cut you off, his lips quirking up in a tired but wicked smirk. his fingers sped up, matching the rhythm of his thrusts as his lips brushed against your ear. “gonna cum for me already, baby? can’t even hold it in, huh?”

you whimpered, your thighs trembling as your hands clutched at his back. “don’t act like you’re not close too,” you shot back, but your voice was a mess, broken and breathless, and you both knew he had the upper hand.

“maybe i am,” he admitted. “but i’ll hold out if you do.”

“asshole..” you gasped, but the word dissolved into a moan as he snapped his hips harder, deeper, his fingers dragging just right against your clit.

he chuckled, the sound rasping out against your skin as his mouth found your neck, sucking at the sensitive spot just below your ear. “that’s not what you were calling me earlier,” he teased, his voice husky, dark, and so fucking sexy you couldn’t help the way your walls clenched around him.

“god, jihoon,” you cried, your hands flying to his hair, tugging lightly, and the groan he let out vibrated against your skin. “you’re so good—fuck, so fucking good.”

“yeah?” he breathed, his voice a little more ragged now. his thrusts were getting sloppy, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. “you’re perfect, baby. so tight—fuck, squeezing me so good.”

his words, the rasp in his voice, the way his breath hitched—it all sent you spiraling, the tension in your body snapping as your orgasm crashed over you.

you cried out his name, your whole body trembling as waves of pleasure coursed through you, and he groaned loudly, burying himself as deep as he could, his hand tightening on your hip.

“fuck—baby, i’m—” his words broke off into a moan as he followed you over the edge, his hips jerking against yours as he spilled inside you.

you both stayed there for a moment, catching your breath, your bodies still pressed together, trembling from the aftershocks.

“holy shit,” you muttered, your voice hoarse as you let out a weak laugh.

jihoon chuckled softly about how you said it, his head dropping to rest against your chest as he pressed a lazy kiss to your skin.

[littlefireball]

ᴍɢ|[ᴍ]|ᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɪᴛ

Mingi x 9th member reader

Part 2 of Perv!MG Headcanons

Warning: Smut|No plot|Unprotected sex|creampie|rough sex|pet name|dirty thought mingi (of course)|too lazy to list all the warnings lol

Summary: Mingi can't control himself during the CK's photoshoot with you. 

Word count:2.8K

9th member AU / Part 2 Yungi Jealousy, Jealousy

"Shouldn't we deal with it quickly?" Mingi's hot breath landed on your skin as he murmured against your ear. His hardness nestled between your ass in a slow grind, creating just enough friction to tease you. "You are so hot…y/n." 

At the time he saw you dressing up in only a tight cropped top and skirt, his eyes couldn't tear off from your figure. Every time you bent over or twisted your body, he found himself staring at the way your top clung to your chest, and your skirt hugged your hips. It was as if you were teasing him on purpose. 

Mingi got bolder and bolder each time changing pose. He would lean closer to you, using his height advantage to stare down your cleavage as you leaned back against him;or he would reach out to pretend to adjust your hair or fix your outfit, but his touch lingered a little too long. 

"Someone will notice…" You protested weakly, your voice trembling as his hand wandered to your hip where his thumb snuck under the waistband of your skirt. 

"Let them notice," he said, his other arm wrapping around your chest, pulling you even closer to him as the photographer called for a new pose. He could feel your heart racing, and he knew that you were just as turned on as he was. Mingi let his hand slip lower, tracing a path across finally came to rest on your hip, toying with the edge of your fabric and giving it a light tug. 

"We shouldn't be doing this…" you whispered, but these words betrayed your will obviously. 

"Why not?" Mingi nuzzled his face into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. "I know you want me as much as I want you…right?" He began to undo the button on your skirt, tugging it down just a little bit, his fingers trailing along the bare skin of your hip. You stifled a gasp as the cool air hit your skin, the pleasure clouding your mind more and more. 

Mingi let out a small smirk at your reaction, clearly enjoying your body squirm under his touch. He then reached for the hem of the skirt but before he could lift it, the photographer called out to them. "Alright, let's take a break!" 

"Tsk…" Mingi clenched his jaw, reluctant to pull away from you. The moment he finally did, a long-held breath escaped your lips, a sigh of relief mingled with longing. The photographer remained oblivious to your heavy breathing and flushed cheeks. Thankfully…

"Come to my dressing room. Don't let others notice you." He whispered with a low voice, making his way to the room. You could only nod, too turned on to form a proper response. As the rest of the group began to scatter, you discreetly followed Mingi towards his dressing room. 

Once you two were inside and the door closed, Mingi immediately pulled you into his arms, crashing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. Their mouths moved together in a desperate, urgent dance as your bodies pressed tightly against each other. Mingi maneuvered them towards the plush sofa in the corner of the room, his lips never leaving yours as he deepened the kiss. 

You were sent sprawling onto the sofa with a soft thump, his form quickly following to loom over you, his knee slipping between your legs. Mingi let out a low growl as he drew back, his gaze smoldering with desire. He seized your hips, tugging you closer to the edge of the sofa, your back curving off the cushions, your hips elevated just as he desired. His fingers found their ways to the waistband of the panties, yanking them down with a quick motion and leaving you completely exposed. 

Without any warning, Mingi lifted your legs, hooking them with his arms to push your knees to your chest, positioning you for a mating press. 

"Wait…not right here. Someone might hear us…we can't–" 

"That's the thrill of it…the risk of getting caught. Don't tell me you're shy now…" He chuckled, cutting off your words. "Besides, I want you now, here. It's more important than any photo shoot." 

"You're my lovely toy, aren't you?" 

You couldn't protest as his lips found yours in a rough kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He shifted one of his legs between yours, his knee now resting against the sofa. With a gentle push, his thigh came into contact with your core. The heat emanated from you turned him on more, the pressure and friction sending a jolt of pleasure through him.

One hand traveled up your body, slipping under the thin crop top to knead and squeeze the softness. "This top…" he murmured. "It's been driving me insane all day. You could barely keep my eyes off you." 

You tried to speak, but his actions stole your words. Every touch, every kiss sent shivers down your spine. You couldn't suppress the soft moans spilling from your lips as he teased you, his touch growing bolder by the minute. 

With a rough move, he tugged down your top to make your breast pop up.  The cold air hit your hardened nipples, causing a soft whimper to leave our mouth. Moving his thigh in slow, deliberate, his lips trailed down to your chest, following the curve of your breast, his tongue swirling around a nipple. 

"So perfect…so good for me…You taste like heaven…" Mingi groaned, the sound barely above a whisper. "I could devour you for days until you beg me to stop." His hands roamed over your body, greedy and possessive, as if he was marking his territory, claiming you completely. As his lips latched onto your nipple, he rolled the other between his fingers, teasing and pinching it until it hardened even more. 

"M…Mingi…" your eyes closed as you shuddered under his touch, your body arching to meet him. A wave of pleasure coursed through you with each touch, each word.  "We need…to stop. Someone might hear us."

He looked up at you, eyes dark with hunger. "Who cares who hears us?" he said, his voice low and rough. "I want them to hear you. I want them to know that you're mine." 

He continued his ministrations, his mouth moving across your chest, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses in its wake. As he moved upward, he bit down on your neck, nibbling on the sensitive flesh. "I'm not stopping until I have had my fill of you."

"But...this is...too risky. What if - " your words got cut off as he pulled on your hair, forcing your head back, exposing your neck completely. With a swift motion, he had you pinned down, his body covering yours completely. 

"Quiet," he warned, his voice a low growl against your ear. "I told you, don't worry about it. We've done this a hundred times, and no one has ever noticed."

With a suddenness that took your breath away, he pulled back, his hands reaching down to his belt, quickly unbuckling it, and pushing his pants down only to knees. The hardened length popped out from the panties, a slight glimmer shining on the tip as the pre-cum wrapped around it. 

"This way you won't be able to distract the crew," he said, his words tinged with a smirk. "And I can have you all to myself." 

"We shouldn't do this…" You whispered, your eyes widened at his big, hard cock. You wanted it badly but the risk of being caught stopped you from letting go. "We can't." 

"Why not?" He smirked, slipping his arms underneath your inner knees, lifting them up till your calves were resting on his forearms. He stepped close, settling his big hands on each side of your inner thighs and positioning his member against your soaked hole. "We've done this before, haven't we? And you enjoyed it, didn't you? I remember the sounds you made when I took you the first time." 

"This is too reckless of us…"

"You love this just as much as I do." He scoffed with a smirk, his fingers squeezing the flesh of your inner thigh. "I can tell by the way you're reacting to me. You're so fucking wet, you know?" 

"Shut it." You panted, feeling heat rush through your cheeks. "I don't–" You were cut off, your words caught in a sharp gasp as he thrusted in harshly. You were totally powerless against him; you knew it, he knew it. 

"There we go," he murmured with a smirk. "No more protests from you. You've been begging for this all day, haven't you? Ever since you put this little outfit on…You've wanted me to take it off of you."

He kept his pace slow at first, trying to draw out the pleasure for you, but it was difficult when you were responding to him so wildly. Each time he rocked his hips, probing your depth with a strength caused the heat rushing through his body. 

"Oh…oh you're so good…" he growled, picking his pace to hit your spot dead on. "So tight around me…oh fuck…!" He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust, causing another whine to spill from your lips. You were too sensitive; every hit, every touch,every rub…all messed your mind and pushed you over the edge. You two moved together in a frenzy of need, your bodies blending into one unit, the pleasure mounting higher and higher with each powerful thrust he drove into you.

"Mingi…I…" you let out a throaty moan, gripping the edge of the couch to steady yourself. "Please…I can't…it's too much…" 

"Too much? We've barely even started. Little thing. And you're acting like this is too much for you?" He chuckled, his thrust becoming more purposeful. "You can take so much more for me, y/n." 

You wanted to reply, to argue, but he didn't give you a chance. He picked up the pace, no longer holding back, his grip on your hips holding you in place as he took what he wanted, what you both wanted. 

His movements were fluid, animalistic, and perfectly in sync with your own body. Every push of his hips was met with a whimper, the sound slippering from your lips without you even realizing it. But then when you were snapped back to reality, and tried to bite down, to hold back the sounds, to be quieter so no one would possibly hear. But Mingi didn't like it, he needed you to moan, beg, whine until your throat dried.

He leaned forward to push you legs widen, allowing his cock to dive deeper and deeper. You gasped at the changing of position and the angle he pushed. "Mingi…" You begged. It was too much, he was too deep, the pleasure and excitement overwhelming. "Slow down…please.." But he didn't slow, he kept going as if losing his rationality already, his body taking what it wanted, what he needed. 

"No…you can take it," he groaned against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "You always take it. You take anything I give you. And you'll take this too." He bit down gently, right where your pulse was, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make you gasp again. "You always do so well, y/n. You always take it all. You were made for me, made to take everything I give you. You're mine, and I'm yours. And everyone will know that, too."

"And when we're done," he muttered, his breath hot in your ear, his cock rubbing against your wall ruthlessly, "Everyone will know exactly who you belong to."

He moved with a growing intensity, his hands gripping you tightly as he thrusted into you harder and deeper. His breathing was ragged, his eyes fixated on your face, taking in every little reaction as he drove you closer and closer to completion. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air, mixed with your moans and gasps as you both approached the pinnacle of ecstasy together. 

"Fuck…fuck…Mingi…please…ahh…"

"That's it, little one. Beg for me. Beg me to make you come . Say it, Moan it, Yell it. I don't care. I need you to say it. I need to hear you admit it." 

Those dirty, filthy words coming from his mouth made you ache more. It was like he knew exactly which buttons to push, exactly how to make you come undone. His voice was rough and commanding, leaving you without any choice but to comply. 

But you didn't want to fight it. You wanted him to take control, you wanted him to completely dominate you. 

"Please, Mingi," you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper, "please make me come."

A low, guttural growl escaped from his throat as he heard your words. It was like a switch had flipped inside him, like he had been holding back all this time, restraining himself to prolong the experience. But now, with your words, he let go completely.

He slammed into you harder, his pace never faltering. His hands were roaming over your body, touching and caressing every inch of you. The couch creaked under the force of his movements, and anyone who would walk past the door would instantly suspect what was happening inside, but neither of you cared. 

With one hand firmly on your hip, he lifted your lower body up from the couch, angling himself even deeper inside of you. "Oh….fuuuuck…." you groaned, and he answered your sound with a guttural moan. 

He suddenly stopped, his body tensing, and a deep, guttural moan rumbling deep from within his chest. His body trembled, and his head fell forward, his forehead touching against yours, as he came undone.

"Oh...my...God..." he panted, his breath ragged, his eyes darkened with intense pleasure. He looked at you, a wide smile on his face, and he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a passionate, tender kiss. 

He parted from your lips as he pulled out of you, still hovered over your body. "We're definitely going to get scolded for this." 

"It was worth it though," you chuckled. "I wouldn't change a thing." 

"Me neither." He chuckled softly in return, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. "It seems the resting time ends. Gotta work now."

"Gotta make that money, make purse?" You joked, earning a smile from him. "But we probably should get dressed and find the others before they come looking for us." 

He reluctantly let go of you, sitting up and starting to put his clothes back on. You watched him, still feeling a little dazed, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

Once he was dressed, he knelt down in front of you, a smug expression on his face. "Need a hand?" he asked, his eyes roaming over your still half-undressed body.

You blushed at his gaze, but nodded. "Yes, please."

He chuckled, and helped you sit up, and then pulled your top back down over your chest, carefully adjusting your skirt, and making sure you were looking presentable again. "There we go," he said with a satisfied smile. "Looking perfect again."

He helped you to your feet, and you stumbled a bit, your legs still feeling a little wobbly. He caught you, pulling you against his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. "Careful there," he said mockingly. "You look a bit weak."

You shoved him playfully, rolling your eyes. "Stop it," you said, but you couldn't help the smile on you. "It's your fault, you know."

"Hey, I'm just being honest,"He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Besides, I think you quite enjoyed it." He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he added in a low, seductive whisper, "Didn't you?"

"Maybe," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, "Maybe a little too much."

"Oh? Is it?" He sneered, playing with your hair with his fingers. "I wonder which member do you like to fuck you the most? Me? Jongho? Or yunho?"

"How… you–??"

"Yunho shared that video with us…You moaned so loud undernder him…and he's so possessed over you. I wonder what if he sees your cunt is dripping off my cum? What would he do?" 

"You…you watched it..?!"You froze, your mind racing as his words sunk in. "He shared... the video?" you said in disbelief. "he shared it with all of you?"

Mingi reached out, tugging softly on your hair, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"Yes, he did." Mingi's voice was low, and his gaze was intense. "We all watched it together."

Before you could speak, the staff's calling cut you off. "Mingi, are you here? With Y/n?"

"Oh yah, we are." Despite the casual tone he used, you could see a hint of annoyance flicker across his face, no doubt not pleased with the interruption. "We'll be right out!" 

"We're not done yet, little one." He gave you one last look, a warning in his eyes, before turning to the door. "We'll have more fun in the dorm." 

(a/n: here is what Yunho /Jongho did)

Yunho: Dance Practice

Jongho: Want you so bad

tag list: @angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615, @monsta-x-jagi, @sunnysidesins

[no-144444]

was it casual?-l.norris

Day 28 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: the seriousness of your relationship wasn't exactly clear... leading to unforseen circumstances... (18+)

mdni (18+ smut) (ur responsible for the content you consume, not me)

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He walked into his empty apartment. Monaco was a town where you either knew people, or you didn’t. He knew people, but people knew him more. Max F was busy, Carlos was in Spain with family, Oscar was over in England to see Lily, Alex was off supporting Lily in a tournament, George was with Carmen in Austria, Max (V) was too busy with streaming and fighting the FIA, and that left him all alone. 

His life had been getting quieter since the start of last season. People checked in less, his mental health went downhill, everyone has their eyes on him now. It had been months of lonely interactions, wasted opportunities, and a job that was slowly ripping him apart. He had to win, he had to be the best. 

Then there was a knock at the door. The tension in his shoulders dissipated, a smile made its way onto his lips, and he forgot about his troubles. 

You were here. 

He opened the door with a bright smile, and there you stood with his favourite takeout. The only person who made him feel normal. 

“Hey baby,” he smiled, letting you in. You stepped inside, placing the food on the table. “How was your day?”

“Busy, but better now,” you smiled and pressed your lips to his softly. “You?”

His heart warmed slightly. He never thought he’d be one of those guys. One of those guys who loved their girlfriend 7 months in, but here he was, heart eyes and all. 

“Busy, but better now,” he replied. You chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“What’d you do?” You asked. 

“Some simming, training, meetings and other boring shit,” He yawned. “Tired now.”

You nodded. 

“You?”

“Down in court today, Rich is doing well, I think the judge likes us,” you explained, mindlessly picking the carrots out of his dish and putting them in your own. “Don’t know if we’ll win though.”

“You will,” he answered definitively. “You’re the best solicitor ever.”

“I’m not a full solicitor yet,” you reminded him. 

“Still the best,” he shrugged. 

“Come on sleepyhead, have some food and we can go to bed,” you chuckled. He sat beside you at the table, and you two chatted about your days, not even bothering to clean up before collapsing into his bed. 

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You two had met at a bar in Monaco, you were friendly with Pietra due to a few yoga classes you’d done together, and Lando had been obsessed with you since then. You’d gone on a few dates that mostly ended with you in his bed or vice versa, and recently it had turned into more of a relationship. He hadn’t asked you out yet. He wasn’t your boyfriend. You hadn’t been on a proper date in months. It was confusing. You thought it was just casual. You really liked him, but he thought this was just casual, didn’t he? I mean, what would an F1 driver want with a regular law student in Monaco just starting her traineeship? He wasn’t your boyfriend, right? 

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You woke up with his arms around you, and quickly shuffled out of his bed. You got dressed, cleaned up after dinner from the night before, and off you went. Saturday, you had a lunch date with a few friends, and some errands to run. 

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Lando woke up cold and alone. It wasn’t crazily unusual for him to wake up alone when you’d stay over, but you’d usually tell him that you had an early morning, or something to stop you two from having a lazy morning. He checked the time, 10am. You must’ve left recently. He cursed himself for being such a heavy sleeper, and for sleeping so well when you were with him. He shot you a text about tonight. He knew it was slightly pathetic that he didn’t have anyone else to hang out with other than his busy girlfriend, but he didn’t really care. It was a great chance as well, since his parents were in town and might be able to swing by dinner. He knew it was early on, but he loved you, and he planned on telling you soon. 

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A knock on the door, a familiar routine. He should probably give you a key. 

“Hey baby,” he smiled. 

“Hey Lando,” you smiled. “Sorry I was later than usual, the traffic was crazy and I didn’t want to cancel on you and-”

“So this is the girlfriend?” Adam, Lando’s dad, asked, a bright smile on his face. Your face fell. His parents were sitting right there, staring at you, looking at you, and they thought you were his girlfriend. He must’ve thought someone else was behind the door, maybe he’d cancelled and you didn’t get the text and his actual girlfriend was behind you and you were about to be kicked out and blocked, maybe-

“This is her,” Lando smiled, ushering you in. You shot him a look of confusion. He shot you one back. He took your coat and bag, and led you over to the table with a kiss on the cheek, his parents watching the whole display. 

“So Y/n, what do you do?” Cisca asked. 

“I’m a solicitor in training,” you explained. “Sorry that I was late, the traffic was insane and my firm is across the-”

“It’s fine,” she smiled. “We only got here 10 minutes ago.”

“Ok, good,” you chuckled nervously. 

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And with that, the dinner began. It was a maze of questions, jokes, and slight teasing, but by the end, you’d thought you did quite well. They didn’t seem to completely hate you yet, so that was good. As Lando closed the door on them, you put your head in your hands and groaned. 

“I’m sorry I sprung that on you, it’s just… they were in town, a-and they wanted to meet you so badly-”

“It’s fine,” you shook your head. “I just… I didn’t know I was your girlfriend,” you told him honestly. 

His eyes darkened, a hint of possessiveness playing behind them. “How did you not think you were my girlfriend?” “Well, for one, you never fucking asked me to be your girlfriend. Two, it doesn’t exactly make sense considering I’m just a law student, and you’re a fucking F1 driver. Three-” he cut you off with a kiss. 

He kissed you hard and heavy, pulling you into his arms, his grip bordering on bruising. “Jump,” he whispered against your lips. You obliged, jumping and wrapping your legs around his torso. He brought you to his bedroom, all but throwing you on the bed and rushing to take off his clothes as you took off yours. He got to work, finger swirling through your core as he watched your reactions. 

“So good Lan,” you whined, nails digging into his shoulders. 

“You fuck anyone else?” he asked, harshly scissoring his fingers into your entrance. 

“No-fuck- j-just you. Only you-shit!” you moaned. 

He smirked, lowering his face to your pussy. “Good girl,” he quipped, kissing at your clit as you moaned his name. You were his, he was yours. He needed to remind you of that. 

You were hot all over, desperate to finally get that release, but he was going too slowly. “Lan, quicker, please,” you whined, more than needy. You tugged at his hair, grinding down on his face as he smirked. It felt fucking amazing, his nose, his tongue, all of it. It was too much and too little all at the same time. You whined in frustration at the loss of contact when he pulled away, leaving you unsatisfied. He flipped you over, ass in the air on his bed and smacked your ass. “Lan-!”

Buried to the hilt in one thrust. Lando was clearly not fucking around tonight. “You’re doing so well baby.” he smirked. “Want you to cum on my cock.”

You nodded, letting him take what he wanted from you. 

“My fucking girl, isn’t that right?”

“Yes! Yes!” you moaned. 

“Fuck, good fucking girl, y’gonna cum on my cock?” 

“Yes! Yes!” you groaned, muffled by the sheets. 

“Who’s fucking you right now?” he thrust harder, messily kissing your neck. 

“You!” you screamed, getting closer and closer to your high. 

“And what am I to you sweetheart?” he gritted out. 

“M-my boyfriend!” you finally came around him, walls tightening as you moaned. He came shortly after, groaning as he pulled out of you. 

“You alright?” he asked, a bright smile on his face. You nodded softly, too exhausted to speak. “Did so good,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek and left to grab some glasses of water, and a towel to clean you both up with.  It wasn’t just casual.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi @linnygirl09 @lanadelray1989 @teamnovalak @gleeblegnarp

[aurorasdaybreak]

if this world were ours ‿❀° sylus qin (m)

summary: during the first sunny spring day in linkon city, you and sylus decide to pick up right where you left off. info: sylus x afab!reader | story compliant | fluff, smut | 18+ | 11k words warnings: this is tooth rotting fluff with cheese levels comparable to a romcom bc the sweetest man deserves it after everything he's been through (;-;), hesitation on both sylus and mc's parts, references night of secrecy memory but if mc didn't go with sylus, tara and simone make an appearance, almost getting caught in a dressing room by the previously mentioned characters, sylus x reader smut, the slightest bit of dom!sylus x sub!afab!reader but it's barely mentioned, use of pet names (kitten, angel, vixen), f!receiving nipple play, teasing, f!receiving oral sex, clit play, f!receiving multiple orgasms, f!receiving overstimulation (GUYS SYLUS IS A PLEASURE DOM I KNOW IT IN MY SOUL), mentions of safe signals, sylus has a big dick, unprotected sex, cumming inside, this is very sappy and cheesy i am warning you NOW author's note: guys titles are hard to come up with SDGHJBGFHJSD but happy belated birthday to the sweetest dragon man - and thank you guys for waiting :')) work is kicking my ass but MAYBE HOPEFULY FINALLY I AM WRITING MORE!! as always pls feel free to leave your thoughts in my ask :')) thank you for reading!! <3 disclaimer: not beta read, will edit soon for any mistakes!! if you are a minor and you're seeing this, i ask that you turn away and do not read. this is an 18+ story and minors are not welcome. if you are uncomfortable with any of the topics listed in the warning, please do not read this story! ‿❀° songs listened to include take a chance with me by niki and luther by kendrick lamar and sza

The first sunny spring day after a long winter is always your favorite day of the year.

You wake up to the warmth of sunlight on your cheek, filtering in between the gap of your curtain. There’s a pleasantly lazy feeling that spreads through your body - one that makes you want to curl back into your sheets and doze off for a couple more hours.

You groan when you hear your phone vibrate against your side table, though, and you blindly reach around to grab the offending gadget.

You don’t even look, simply swiping your phone across the screen and holding it up to your ear. “____ here, what’s up?”

“____!” Came a cheerful, peppy voice that has you waking up just a little bit faster. You sit up as you process that it’s Tara, and you can’t help but smile as you run your fingers along the silky fabric of your bedding.

“Something’s definitely up,” you joke as you rub your eyes. “It’s 6 am and you’re always grumpy at this time, so either we get today off or you got a really good coffee.”

“Ding ding ding! We have today off, bestie!” Tara’s excitement is contagious, and you can’t help but laugh. “The higher ups have some sort of meeting out of town today, so while tech staff have to be in office today we’re on call but technically have the day off. Simone and I were talking about going to the mall so we can get noodles and blind boxes, do you wanna tag along?”

“Hmm,” you muse, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “While I’d love to, I need to do some grocery shopping and return some books. Maybe we can plan a proper outing together soon?”

“For sure,” Tara says. “Maybe we can check out that new karaoke place and barbecue place during the weekend! We need a good girl’s night out.”

“As long as I’m not the DD,” comes your half-joking, half serious reply. “The way you convinced Simone to keep taking shots was…inspiring, to say the least.”

“Oh please,” she scoffs, and if you put your mind to it you could almost see her waving her hand. “I’ll just have Nero pick us up or something. You need to partake in the shots too - don’t think I haven’t seen the way you gaze out the window and sigh longingly to yourself about your mystery hunk.”

“I have not!” Even with how quickly your reply comes, though, you and Tara both know that she’s right.

Because, oh, yes you have.

It had been some weeks since your…night with a certain Onychinus leader - a night that you keep replaying in your head over and over again, no matter how many times you tried to focus on the present and current missions in front of you.

You had been slated to go with him to your shared destination, but a frantic call from Jenna had you regretfully cancelling your ticket last minute and dropping him off at the airport instead. You still remember the way his palms felt cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing the damp skin under your eyes and wiping away your sadness before pressing his lips to your forehead and leaning down to whisper in your ear:

“Don’t miss me too much sweetie, we’ll see each other soon.”

You turn your head to the direction of your bedroom window following the end of your memory, staring at the dust dancing between the filtered streams of sunlight while you think of soft eyes and an uncharacteristically sweet smile as he turned back and gave you a salute before disappearing in the sea of travelers.

You wonder what he’s doing right now.

“Earth to ____!” Came Tara’s teasing voice from your phone. You blink rapidly and feel yourself heat slightly with embarrassment at how you’ve left Tara hanging. “You’re thinking about your mystery hunk, huh?”

“Ye-no, ugh! Tara!” You try to ignore the flare of indignation that burns in your stomach at her laughter, although you can’t help the smile that begins to form on your face. “I’m hanging up now.”

“See you tomorrow, ____!” With her last greeting, you hang up the call and toss your phone towards the foot of your bed before flopping back down onto your pillow and grabbing a random plushie so that you can scream into the soft toy.

“Freaking stupid,” you mumble to yourself when you finally lift your head away from the plushie, only to groan when you see it’s the stuffed crow that he won for you. You poke at its eye, imagining that it can see right through you like the person who won you the toy.

“Y’know, sometimes I think that he can see me through you,” you mutter softly, tracing the crow’s exaggerated eyebrows. You poke at its beak, and you giggle when you imagine poking a certain someone’s nose. You poke its beak once more before you reach up to pet its head, shaking your head and sighing deeply while you do so. “If it just so happens that he can see me through you…well, you better get home safely.”

You hold your breath, waiting for the crow’s right eye to glow a vivid red.

One beat passes, and then another…

…but nothing happens.

You sigh once more, gently placing the crow by your pillow before pulling the sheets off of your legs and standing up to stretch and get ready for the day.

It would do you no good to worry about him, you have stuff you need to do for yourself.

You’re proud to say it - you’ve gotten a lot of shit done in the past couple of hours.

You’ve returned your books that were teetering on the edge of being overdue, smiling sheepishly at the librarian who quirked an eyebrow at you when you plopped down another stack of romance novels onto the checkout counter. After quickly dropping off your books back at your apartment, you make your way to the mall nearby so that you do some window shopping.

You slowly make your way through the crowded mall halls, easily dodging the small children that run amuck and apologizing to the couples strolling arm in arm when you’re too slow to maneuver past them. Even with how busy it is, however, you still maintain your good mood - and it seems as though everyone around you does as well.

Everyone around you is relishing in the first warmth of spring, and you can’t help but smile in contentment.

You stop outside of a Twinkle Toys storefront, looking down at the new blind boxes that they have on display. You hope that none of them catch your eye, but then you see it: a cherry blossom series where your favorite characters have silly poses and goofy smiles.

You heave a sigh, torn between buying a full set so that you can display it throughout the entire year or saving your hard-earned money. Your eyes flicker between the set and your purse, and you shake your head to yourself before stepping in and approaching the display.

“Just this once,” you murmur to yourself as you pick up a box. “Just this one set, to reward yourself for doing a good job.”

You make your way to the cashier, and you try not to cringe as you place the box on the counter. The worker barely blinks though, and easily scans the item as they read off your total. You bend your head so that you can fish out your wallet, but before you can hand over your card you find your attention caught by something.

A 6’2, silver-haired, red-eyed something.

“Please tap your card on the screen- lady, hey, wait-!”

You don’t even register that you’re walking away from your new blind box set and making your way out of the store, pushing past a crowd of college students as you begin to pick up your pace.

There’s no way it’s him, right?

You slowly see that head of silver hair come into your vision, and you all but break out into a sprint as you attempt to catch up to him before the crowd swallows you whole. You’re not gonna let him go - not without talking to him first, at least.

Soon enough, you’re within a fingertip’s reach to the man’s (ridiculously ornate) trench coat, and you reach out to grab the fabric so that you can get his attention-

-only to be pushed into his solid frame, stumbling and crashing into his body.

You hear an oof escape his chest as you collide, and you squeal as you try and stabilize your body so that you don’t topple over. Your footing isn’t so steady, however, so you end up tumbling into a pair of arms.

You gulp when you see a black silk button-up, and you let your head slowly move up just so that you avoid his eyes - instead focusing on the pair of lips you’ve dreamed about over the past couple of weeks. You watch as the mouth forms its signature smirk, and you can’t help but shiver when you hear the laugh you didn’t realize you were craving until now.

“Looks like the kitten distribution system is at work today,” comes Sylus’s amused tone, and you feel yourself heat slightly before pushing your body away from him. 

“I just had to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating,” you murmur back sheepishly, taking the time to straighten your cardigan and smoothing your skirt of its nonexistent wrinkles. You finally build up the courage to stare at his full face, and you can’t help the way that your stomach flips when you gaze at him.

Oh, how you missed his handsome face. You didn’t even realize how much you craved his presence until just now, when you were confronted with the sight of him after a long couple of weeks.

You try and wrack your brain for something, anything to say. You should ask him about the trip, how the investigation went, and when did he come back to Linkon? Why is he in Linkon in the first place? 

Did Sylus think of you as much as you thought of him?

Out of all of the things you could say, however, the first thing that slips out of your mouth is a breathless, “There’s no way you’re not sweating in that ridiculous trench coat.”

Sylus quirks an eyebrow at your statement. “I’m quite well ventilated, thank you very much.”

“Well…you don’t really fit in,” you say lamely, gesturing to the crowd around you. “It’s uh, it’s pretty warm today, Sylus.”

The corners of his lips tilt up, and you can see the exact moment he decides to humor you. “Oh, is that right sweetie? What do you suggest we do about that?”

You can’t quite hide the pleased smile that forms on your face as you hear the word “we”, although you try to maintain your bravado as you pretend to ponder over your already created solution. Your contemplation is short-lived, however, when a couple jostles you back into his arms.

Sylus catches you with ease, and you try to disguise the way your hands shake as you push him away once more. You can still see his smirk, however, so you scowl and push the sleeves of your cardigan up to your elbows.

“You need a clothing makeover.” It’s a ridiculous statement that makes him chuckle and you think for a moment that he’ll shoot down the idea, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he grabs your hand and places it in the crook of your elbow with a gentle reverence.

“And what will this clothing makeover have in store?” His voice is right by your ear, and you fight the shiver that races down your spine at his sudden proximity and deep, lilting voice. “Polyester?”

It’s his way of teasing you - you know it from the way his eyes sparkle as he regards you softly, the beginnings of a genuine smile curling on the corners of his lips. He’s waiting to see if you’ll back down or rise to the occasion, to see just how much of a rise he can get out of you - so you decide to play coy.

“Worse.” You make it so that your tone reflects his intimate quality, and you find that you feel pleased in the way he looks slightly flustered when you tiptoe up so that you can place your lips right by the shell of his ear. “Matching cardigans.”

“Oh?” Sylus shakes off his momentary daze and composes himself. His eyes trace a line from the curve of your neck to the white knitted cardigan you paired with your jean skirt this morning, and you feel your fingers tremble when you see the tiniest spark in his eyes before it flits away. “Don’t suppose this comes in black?”

You barely feel it, but his hand snakes around your back and settles on your hip, making a subtle show of rubbing the fabric in between his fingers and letting the pads of his fingers just barely run along the curve of your hip. You feel yourself heat slightly at this sudden proximity - torn between pulling yourself together so that you can spend a proper day with him or pulling him towards the bus stop so you can bring him to your apartment and show him just how much you missed him.

“Kitten?”

Sylus breaks you from your self-imposed lust with a squeeze to your hip, and you fight the urge to go with the latter option. Instead, you shake your head to give yourself clarity before smiling up at him. “It’s nothing at all, let’s get you a matching cardigan in black.”

You wait with bated breath as you see if he’ll buy your lame excuse, hoping that he doesn’t look too deeply into your shaky smile and the way you know your eyes look slightly unfocused. You know you look like you’ve been thinking about something that shouldn’t be thought of in the middle of a public space - it’s the same look that Tara and Simone have caught you with while Sylus was gone the past couple of weeks, and you pray that Sylus just doesn’t think too heavily about it.

You don’t quite know what you would say to him if he even brought it up.

Thankfully, Sylus chooses to brush past it - retracting his hand from your wait and placing your hand back into the crook of his elbow. “All right, sweetie,” he says as he looks at you expectantly. “Lead the way.”

“First order of business,” you say as you pull Sylus into a clothing store. “You’re in clothing that’s way too gaudy and…fine for all of us civilians here in Linkon City. We need to disguise you so that the Hunters who are off duty don’t haul your ass to the Association.”

“Interesting,” he muses as you gesture for him to turn for you. He grins and humors you, holding out his arms and slowly turning in an exaggerated circle. He stops his movements with an over the top pose, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“Keep your arms out,” you command, and he follows your request as you guide him to the men’s clothing section.

“This is quite a lot, sweetie,” Sylus says curiously as you begin to dump a selection of short sleeved button downs and cotton shirts into his arms. “And very…mundane.”

“Oh calm down, almighty leader of Onychinus.” You grab a plain shirt from the pile in his arms and hold up the tag to his eyes, making sure that he sees the words 100% COTTON written on the label. “These clothes aren’t going to make you any less handsome or make you break out into hives because it’s not silk, they’re just meant to have you blend in with everyone here in Linkon.”

“So you think I’m handsome,” he replies cheekily. You fight the urge to roll your eyes once again, although you can’t help the way your skin heats slightly at his teasing tone.

“Oh, shut it Sylus,” you mumble, and he laughs at the way you turn your head back so that you can rub at your cheeks furiously.

His arms full of clothing, you begin guiding him into the dressing rooms nearby. The attendant raises an eyebrow at the amount of clothing Sylus has with him, but lets him enter anyway. You walk him to his assigned dressing room, and Sylus raises an eyebrow at you that has you giving your own confused look back at him.

“Aren’t you going to join me, kitten?” He asks, and you sputter at the insane question.

“What- no! Sylus, you’re the only one meant in the room-” The words tumble frantically from your mouth as you all but push him into the room, yanking the curtain shut so that he can’t see the way he leaves you flustered so easily. “Just…just try on the damn clothes Sylus!”

You try to ignore the way his chuckle makes your knees weak.

You stand vigil at his dress room, occasionally offering comments to him when he opens the curtain and lets you see his try on haul. You automatically say no to an electric blue short sleeve (“It’s like your color analysis only favors you in shades of red and black!”) and he discards all of the shirts that have even a percentage of polyester in its blend (“Absolutely not, ____.”) but you both find a common favorite with a simple, black, short-sleeved button down.

“It’s just…” you begin, and you taper off when you see the way the buttons at his chest strain.

“Just what?” He repeats, and he looks down in confusion when you point at his chest - looking off at the wall behind his head so you don’t have to see the muscles of his body or the smirk on his face.

“Ah.” He replies, and he shrugs casually as he begins to unbutton the top. “Just get me a bigger size, then.”

And before you can even say anything else, he shuts the curtain.

On you.

“Dammit Sylus,” you mutter, and you roll your eyes when you hear his snort from the other side of the curtain.

“Unless you want me to go out-” he begins, but you gulp and pull the curtains shut when you see his fingers wrap around the fabric, ready to pull it open.

“Just stay there!” You squeak, and you run off before his teasing laughter can envelope you once more.

You take your sweet time wandering around the store - not because you don’t know where the button down is, but because you need the time to get a grip on yourself. Why are you acting like a giddy, doe-eyed college girl around him? It’s just Sylus, for goodness sake!

You stop in front of a mirror by the button downs, looking at yourself in the reflection. It’s still you - still the same cardigan, tank top, and long jean skirt you put on this morning. Still the same hair, same nails, same eye bags under your eyes you gained when you tossed and turned over him and his safety…

You scowl at your reflection, marching over to the rack you picked up the shirt and rifling through for a bigger size. By the time you grab the article of clothing, you have settled something in yourself and created a new, calm demeanor in which to approach your emotions so that they don’t go mucking up your time with him.

It was one night, and he surely isn’t thinking about it in the same way you were over the past couple of weeks. You’re over it. You don’t care.

And you’ll spend the rest of this spring day convincing yourself if you have to.

You make your way back to the dressing room, but you pause when you hear a pair of voices drawing closer to you. You pause, straining to hear - only for your muscles to freeze up when you realize just who those tones belong to.

Shit shit shit, ____! Hide behind the clothing rack-

“Man, I miss ____,” Tara sighs as you all but throw your body against the nearest clothing rack, holding the shirt you picked up for Sylus and praying that the silky black fabric makes you vanish from all view. “She’d make today so fun! I mean, we could go to the library and then do groceries, maybe cook a meal in her dream of a kitchen?”

“____ and I would be cooking,” Simone corrects, and you shiver when you hear Tara’s scoff move closer to you. “You would be eating the things we prepared before we even finished anything!”

“Okay, in my defense-” Tara begins, but you can’t find it in yourself to be interested in their rambles when you see Simone’s signature inky black hair in your peripheral vision. You don’t even think, you just walk as fast as you can towards the dressing room.

You breathe a deep sigh of relief when you make your way back to Sylus’s designated fitting room, pulling the fabric just the tiniest bit and shoving the hanger into the small room.

“You were gone for a while, ____.” Sylus’s voice is casual as he takes the hanger from you, although you don’t miss the curiosity that tinges his tone as he pulls the curtain shut. “What were you doing, fighting Wanderers in the mall?”

“I wish,” you mumble, and you tilt your head back against a nearby column as you remember your vow to keep your cool around him. “I got…I got lost.”

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” he replies teasingly.

“I- fuck, Sylus,” you curse, and you fiddle with the ends of your cardigan as you direct your vision to the ceiling and try your absolute hardest to not spill your every thought about him to him. “I saw my friends so I needed to dodge them.”

“Why would you need to hide from them? Did something happen?”

“No, not at all!” you begin, trying to think of some sort of reason that’ll get him off of your back. “I just-”

“Just what, kitten?”

“I-” you try to begin again, but your voice tapers off as it dawns on you just how insane this entire situation is. The person you’re falling deeply for is currently trying on clothes, and you’re right outside his dressing room while your friends are in the same store the two of you are in. You’re on the precipice of inadvertently announcing to the world that the infamous leader of Onychinus is the one you can’t get your mind off at all - but your fear of his response is holding you back.

You try to squash the words that are on the tip of your tongue, the questions that have been haunting you over the past couple of weeks. How can you even begin to tell Sylus how much you missed him, that you think about that night more times than you care to admit?

Does he know how deeply he’s burrowed himself into your heart?

You clench your fists and open your mouth, ready to come up with some shitty excuse, but before something can spill out you hear Tara’s voice and you gasp.

“Shit-” you all but gasp to yourself as you yank the curtain open, stuffing yourself into the dressing room before you can even think about your actions.

“I could’ve sworn I heard her voice,” you hear Simone muse as you hear footsteps walk past the dressing room. “She said something about a…stylus?”

You hear a chuckle from above you, and you immediately push your hand up to cover his mouth while you grip the curtain in your fist. “Don’t. Even. Start.”

“Just say you miss ____ and keep moving!” Tara’s muffled voice gets louder as the pair passes by Sylus’s dressing room, and you close your eyes as if it’ll make you disappear. “Although…I miss her too, honestly.”

“I’m not exaggerating, Tara,” Simone scoffs back, and a little piece of you dies when you hear her enter the dressing room opposite the one you’re currently in. “I could’ve sworn I saw her too, in that cardigan she was agonizing over buying-”

“You just have ____. She’s probably at home, cooking my favorite meal while I can’t swipe it away.” Tara sighs. You hear the dressing room’s curtain next to your’s swish open, and your stomach drops even more when you hear Tara’s laughter too close to your space as she shuts the curtain. “Or taking a nap. Maybe reading a book.”

“Didn’t you say she has a mysterious man she’s been sighing over for the past couple of weeks?” You feel Sylus’s mouth quirk up in a smirk from beneath your palm at Simone’s musings and you scowl as you press your hand harder against his face, cursing all those times you dreamed about those same lips while at work. “Maybe she’s getting railed.”

You feel the embarrassment deep in your stomach before you even register what she said, but when your brain processes what she just said - “Oh no, oh no no no this cannot be happening,” you squeal quietly to yourself, chancing a look at the man who’s lips went slack against your hand.

You see Sylus’s eyes widen in realization before taking on a slight sparkle. His lips begin to move against your palm but you press your hand into his face, looking back up at the ceiling and chanting at the universe to do something, anything to get you out of this situation. Hell, you’d even accept a Wanderer just magically spawning in the middle of the dressing room instead of this mess.

“Ew, Simone - not something to be discussing in a dressing room!” Tara fake gags and you almost want to say thank you out loud - but that’s before Tara laughs once again. “But let’s be real, she probably is getting railed right now.”

“And good for her!” The both of them laugh in their respective dressing rooms, and you look down at your feet because you want nothing more than to have the ground swallow you whole.

There’s no way this is happening to you right now.

All of a sudden, you feel your wrist being pulled away and your body being pressed up against the wall of the dressing room. Your eyes widen as you see Sylus in his cocky, confident glory, and you try not to gasp too loudly when his palms rest against your waist. “You’ve been dreaming about me at work, kitten?”

“That’s not-” You try to begin, but you find that you can’t focus on his eyes and his face because you refuse to believe that this is happening to you right now. You have to shift your attention now, because if you don’t you lose your mind at your shared proximity with him right now.

You feel yourself grow flustered as the seconds begin to drag by and you try to look somewhere, anywhere that isn’t his face, but that means looking at his neck - the same neck you’ve been wanting to leave marks on. Your eyes travel past the silver chain resting against his collarbones and it’s only when you see the top of his chest do you realize that he’s shirtless - only in the unbuttoned cotton shirt he was trying on and his low hanging pants.

“Fuck,” you mumble, and you try to hide just how nervous you are by closing your eyes and willing yourself to just get it together.

“I think it’s endearing, ____,” Sylus whispers, and you gasp when you feel his mouth against your ear. His lips just barely brush against your earlobe in a way that has you believing that you’re dreaming, and you shiver when he begins to map a course along your jawline. As his lips run its course down your neck his hands slowly move down from your waist, and you feel your stomach do a dangerous flip when his palms slowly squeeze the flesh of your hips. You can’t help it - you move your hands up to his shoulders and let your head fall against his collarbone so that you can try to disguise just how much he affects you.

“How cute you must be, looking out the window and thinking about little old me,” he teases - just enough to annoy you, but also in a gentle tone that lets you know he more than likes the idea of your thoughts being consumed wholly by him. His hand reaches up and cups your chin, forcing you to look up at his soft eyes and coy smirk. “So much so that your friends know and think that you’re…how did they say it?”

His fingers tense against your chin ever so slightly, and the words tumble out from your lips before you can stop them. “You railing me.”

Sylus’s eyes widen at your candidness, and he huffs out a small laugh as pink begins to dust his cheeks. “Yeah, that.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as the two of you hear Tara and Simone giggle softly, discussing something amongst themselves. That telltale tightness of apprehension begins to grip at you and you move to make some sort of space between you and Sylus, but before you can do so he shifts so that his left arm is braced above your head and his right hand rests on your cheek, thumb gently brushing the skin right below your lips.

“Is that what you want, ____?” He murmurs, this time letting his lips press harder against the skin of your cheek. “Do you want me to press you into your mattress and fuck you until you’re crying into your pillows?”

“Sylus-” You gasp at his sudden crass words, and you feel lightheaded as all of the fear of getting caught turns into molten lust that settles into the pit of your stomach. “Don’t say that so loudly-”

“I’m not, though.” He knows it, and you know it too. “Can you even process what I’ve said over the beating of your heart, ____?”

You still yourself as much as you can, and you register with a start that he’s right - your heart is practically beating out of your chest, the drumming clouding your earlobes. “I-”

“I don’t want to fuck you like that, though.”

Your hands travel from your sides to his shoulders, fingers grazing the wrists of his silvery white hair as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. You finally allow yourself to tilt your head up to look directly into his burning gaze - one that speaks of the desire that he has only for you.

“I want to take my time with you,” Sylus confesses softly, pressing his body against yours. Your fingers tighten on his hair when you feel the beginnings of hardness against your stomach, and you fight every urge in your body screaming to roll your hips against his when you hear a low groan rumble in his chest. “I want it to be gentle and take care of you, like that night. I - fuck, ____, I want to worship every inch of you again.”

His lips are hovering dangerously close to yours, and you know that if you angle your head up at just the right angle - he would lean down and finish the job. And oh, you want him to do it.

You want him to confirm the truth that the both of you know. You want him to make you his.

“Sylus-” you sigh, neediness coloring your tone as you begin to tilt your head up. “I-”

“I know, my angel,” he murmurs softly, lips just far away enough you can feel his lips barely brush against yours. “Is it terrible for me to confess that all of my thoughts were consumed by you while I was gone?”

“No,” you immediately say back, the movement of your lips creating the slightest bit of friction against his smiling mouth. “My friends are right, you know. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you these past few weeks but you…you haven’t left my mind in a long time, Sylus.”

You feel the corners of your lips tilt upwards in a smile that mirrors him, and your heart melts ever so slightly when you see the crinkles on the corners of his eyes - the ones that only appear when he’s truly happy. Your thumb swoops down to trace the skin and he leans into the contact, allowing his nose to brush against yours.

“____,” he whispers softly, beginning to bend down and press his forehead against yours. You tiptoe up, beginning to close the space in between the two of you and he presses his hands into your hips to steady you. “I-”

“-I’m starving!” Tara squeals as you both hear the curtain next to you open.

It’s like a bucket of cold water was thrown at the two of you. You’re both immediately creating space between each other - you rubbing at your cheeks furiously to hide the dazed look you know is on your face while Sylus clears his throat and tries to discreetly adjust the front of his pants.

“Yeah yeah,” Simone grumbles, and your sudden relief almost drowns out your intense need when you hear her curtain open too. You hear their footsteps join together, and you hold your breath as they continue their conversation.

“Can we get noodles now? I’ll pay this time, swear on my life,” Their footsteps travel past the dressing room you and Sylus are in, and you hear Simone make a noise of agreement before their sounds recede into the distance.

You count to ten in your head, gathering as much bravado as you can and schooling your face into as calm and pleasant of one as you can manage before turning around to face him. While you were steeling yourself for whatever Sylus may have thrown at you, you still feel yourself deflate at how quickly he’s composed himself too - although you can still see a particular softness in his gaze as he regards you.

“I take it we’re not getting noodles?” He asks rhetorically, and you can’t help but snort.

“Absolutely not,” you mumble. You look at the pile of clothing in the dressing room, and you point to the black, short-sleeved button down that’s currently on his body. “I like that one, by the way.”

And before he can say anything else, you’re making your way out of the dressing room - lest you do something stupid like kiss him then and there.

Surprisingly enough, you and Sylus bounce back easily from…whatever the fuck happened in that dressing room.

Dinner was a quick affair, with you insisting on pasta from an Italian spot close to the center of the city. Having changed into his casual spring clothing, Sylus drove the two of you to the chosen restaurant. It was clear to you that Sylus was also affected by what happened because his hand hadn’t rested on your thigh like it always did. Instead, his fingers tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel as you looked out on the horizon - craving his contact but knowing that the two of you needed time to think about what was said.

Even during the actual meal, the two of you were silent save for the occasional praise for the pasta or the appetizers. You could feel the tension between the two of you - thick as a knife, but which one of you would make the first move?

You wish you had the courage to reach out and hold his hand.

Even now, as you’re walking in the Linkon City Central Gardens, it’s clear that the two of you are too afraid to reach out and do something. Sylus walks a comfortable distance behind you, taking in the beginnings of blooms that line the paths. Cherry blossom petals drift in the air and you think to yourself that it would be much better with someone walking side by side with you - holding your hand, arm around your shoulder, anything.

That’s it, you think to yourself. Have courage and think of something.

“You know, they sometimes have daturas on display,” you begin.

You hear his strides grow longer until he walks beside you, the beginnings of sunset washing him in a golden hue. “Oh, yeah? Are they hidden in a corner because they’re poisonous?”

There’s a bitter edge in his tone, and you realize the implications of your words. Does he think that you don’t want to display your affection for him to the entire world?

“Not at all,” you reply, and you finally take your chance and stretch your pinky so that it brushes against his ever so slightly. You breathe a slight sigh of relief when his pinky reaches out, looping itself around you and you take it as your sign to continue. “The gardens have education nights, and they have a specific one called MIsunderstood Beauties. Daturas are a big highlight of those nights.”

“And why is that?” Sylus muses.

“Well,” you begin, fighting to keep your breathing even when he finally intertwines your fingers together. “They first go over the risks of them, just for safety. And then they talk about the science and structure of the flower.”

“And then?”

“Then they talk about the myths,” you continue, letting your feet guide the two of you aimlessly. “People fear the things they don’t understand, so they create reasons to cope with that. Yes, the flowers are poisonous but they’re given a bad rep of witchcraft and evil. They’re actually more complex than that, though.”

“Tell me more,” Sylus says, and you look over your shoulder to look at him curiously. Your heart beats just a little bit faster when he looks at you with rapt attention, although you’re not quite sure if it’s because of your impromptu flower lesson or you.

“In another culture, daturas symbolize protection.” Sylus’s fingers tighten at your statement, and you smile to yourself as you continue. “People would display them in front of their houses to ward off evil and invite sweet dreams in. Daturas grew to be a symbol of safe keeping - the most beautiful protector of all things good.”

You let a comforting silence blanket the two of you as you continue to guide him around. You know he isn’t dumb, you know he’s figured out what you’re trying to tell him. 

You just hope that he knows you mean it.

You stumble upon a clearing, and you gasp as you come across one of your favorite flowers. “Sylus!” You squeal, and before you even register what’s happening you're dragging him to look at the field full of sunset colored ranunculus flowers.

“I didn’t realize they were blooming already!” You begin excitedly, taking in the nearest peach colored bloom. “They only bloom for a few weeks during the springtime…”

You don’t even realize it in the throes of your happiness, but Sylus is looking down at you with an unspeakable warmth in his eyes as you continue to ramble on about the flowers - the beginnings of his rare, real smile forming at the corners of his lips as he takes in the sheer joy that is you.

He slowly moves his eyes down your face, carving each detail he’s cherished in his past lifetime into his memory for safekeeping. The slope of your nose, your mouth gasping in awe at the flowers before you, the way the setting sun hits the back of your head and gives the illusion that you’re a real angel - every bit of you is scored onto his heart, because he doesn’t want to forget the details that make you his very reason for existence. 

Not only in this lifetime, but in future lives.

His hand twitches, and he jolts a little when he realizes you still have his fingers wound around his own. He looks down at your intertwined digits and every instinct is screaming at him to pull you closer, wrap his arms around you and never let you go, to kiss you, dammit - anything at all. He should do something to cement this moment, mark it as something that only exists between the two of you-

-but he can’t bring himself to do so.

Sylus knows in his heart of hearts you feel the way that he feels - that you care for him in a way that he doesn’t deserve. He knows he’ll move heaven and earth to give you anything you would ever want, make sure you never felt any sort of pain or sadness. He wants to protect you because you are the good in his life - but he’s scared to let you know that.

He doesn’t deserve this purity - your overwhelming love and light.

Realizing that Sylus has gone still, you stop your ramblings about the flowers and look up at him with a curious expression. “What is it?”

You feel his fingers tense slightly between your own as you take in the way he swallows nervously, giving him the time to formulate his response. You watch as he battles with the swirling thoughts in his mind, and you feel your heart sink slightly at the way he schools his face into his usual cool demeanor - although you're slightly placated by the way his fingers squeeze reassuringly.

“It’s nothing, ____.” He murmurs. “Let’s get you home.”

The drive home is…uneventful.

In a way, you’re almost thankful for it - thankful that you even have this peaceful time with Sylus after the time he’s spent away from you. The silence that filled his car wasn’t uncomfortable at all - it’s pleasant, the two of you simply soaking in the last inky strands of purple that streak the horizon before the dark indigo of night spread itself over the entirety of the sky. His hand resting on your thigh never strays any higher and your palm easily finds its way on top of his, gently massaging his knuckles while wishing that you were just a little bit braver.

For what? You’re not entirely sure.

Maybe to say something to him when he was looking at you while the two of you were at the Linkon City Central Gardens. His eyes were indescribably soft, and his mouth was slightly slack before it morphed itself into a real smile. It wasn’t any of his usual smirks or half grins -your favorite one that overtakes his entire face. 

A smile that mirrors how you feel about him.

He had pulled away from you then, but maybe you can try to find it in you to pull him back in. Even just to tell him how you truly feel - how you feel that he’s the datura that protects you and brings you peace in your sleep when he’s close. Maybe kiss him on his cheek.

Yes, maybe you’ll do that tonight.

You don’t realize your self-imposed stupor until you feel the car slowly roll to a stop, Sylus cutting the engine and squeezing your thigh gently. “We’re at your’s now, kitten.”

You can’t help the way your heart sinks in your chest, but you put on a brave smile as you squeeze his hand in response. “Will you walk me up to mine?”

You know you don’t even have to ask, but he humors you by giving you a wink and pushing himself out of the car. You wait patiently for him to walk around the front and open the passenger door, and you accept his waiting hand.

“Make sure to drink plenty of water,” he says softly as the two of you step into the elevator. You press the button that leads to your floor, and you allow yourself to lean your head against his shoulder. Sylus responds by pressing his temple against your own, and you can’t help but smile at the sudden warmth.

“You need to take care of yourself too,” you reply once you hear the telltale ding! of the elevator stopping. You both walk towards your door, and you swiftly type in your apartment’s code before opening the door and standing at the threshold.

“Well…” Your voice drifts off as you try and think of a way to extend your time with him - you don't want this to end at all.

Sylus quirks an eyebrow at you, a teasing smirk beginning to form on his face as he crosses his arms. “Well, kitten?”

The silence stretches as you try and think of something to do. The ball is very well in your court and you don’t want to toss away this opportunity - you need to think of something and fast.

Fuck it, you finally think to yourself before you tiptoe up to press a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

You watch with slight mirth as his face flushes an endearing pink, his fingers reaching up to touch the skin your lips graced. You flash a quick smile at him, and you murmur a soft goodnight before turning to enter your apartment-

-only to be turned back around by a strong hand, and a warm mouth finally pressing against your own.

Your eyes instantly flutter shut, arms reaching up to wrap around Sylus’s broad shoulders. Sylus’s hands fumble blindly behind you, pushing the door open and allowing him the space to guide you into your apartment. He kicks the door shut behind him, and it’s only a quick moment before his hands travel to your thighs and picks you up easily, wrapping you in his embrace.

“Sylus-” you pull away and barely gasp his name before he groans, leaning back down to press kisses all over your face. You giggle at the feeling and he smiles down at you before recapturing your lips.

The kisses are slow, filled with a sense of longing that the two of you felt during your long weeks apart. You can feel Sylus’s intent to stay - to hold you for as long as he can, to lavish you in the attention you so crave from him.

And you have no intention of stopping him.

Soon enough, you enter your bedroom and he gently pushes you down onto the bed, allowing for him to press his entire body weight onto your body as you slowly sink into the cushy material. It feels like you’re floating in the best way possible - you’re surrounded by the spicy, almost wine-like scent that lingers on his clothes that mixes in with something that makes Sylus Sylus.

It’s addicting. You never want it, him, to go away.

You pull away just a little bit to take in the flush on his cheeks and you smile when you do so, gently pushing his hair away from his forehead and letting yourself play with the slightly sweaty strands. “You’re so handsome.”

He scoffs slightly, grabbing your wrist so that he can bring his mouth to your hand. You shiver when he presses gentle kisses onto the pads of your fingers, his actions reverent and filling your stomach with that same lazy, content feeling you experienced this morning when you woke up.

“And you’re the most ethereal person I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing,” he mumbles back, kissing your mouth lazily. He pulls away and props himself up, letting his hands push the fabric of your cardigan and tank top up over your stomach. “I want these off, angel.”

You comply with his soft command, letting him drag the layers over your head and tossing them to some corner of your room. Your fingers dance along the buttons of the shirt you brought him and he lets you push the offending garment off of his shoulders before pressing himself against your body - but this time, he kisses the skin of your jaw and slowly moves down.

You shiver when his lips run along the column of your neck and you arch your back, subtly giving him a hint. He catches your meaning, deftly unclasping your bra and helping you remove the garment so that he can pay attention to all of you.

“Sylus,” you moan softly, and your head falls back when his lips wrap around one of your nipples. You whimper when he flicks his tongue against the sensitive skin, his left hand reaching up to tease the other bud. His ministrations leave you writhing on your bed, and you all but gasp out, “More, please.”

“Good girl,” he praises, and he continues to move his lips down your stomach. His fingers make quick work of the button holding your jeans closed and pulls the stiff fabric off in one movement, leaving you exposed to the cold air of your bedroom and his hungry stare.

You watch, body trembling as his eyes slightly narrow and his lips slightly open in awe. When you first spent the night with him, he had asked you to never be shy when with him - so you keep these thoughts in mind as you slowly spread your legs open.

“I missed you a lot,” you confess shyly, although your movements are anything but demure. “What are you going to do about it?”

In a blink of an eye you’re flat on the bed with your legs high in the air, Sylus slowly kneeling in front of you. His breathing is labored, eyes hooded as he looks up at you. You gasp when his hands land on your thighs, placing them on his shoulders and effectively keeping you spread open for him - exposing yourself for his awaiting mouth.

“Little vixen,” he murmurs. His warm breath washes over your most sensitive spots and you shiver, feeling yourself clench in anticipation. Your eyes slip shut when you feel a single finger slide up the front of the panties you’re wearing, and his laughter has your stomach doing a delicious turn - right on the precipice of getting exactly what you want.

“I should make you wait,” Sylus muses darkly.

“Please don’t,” you whimper, voice cutting off in a high pitched whine when his finger rubs a slow circle right on top of your clit. The sudden stimulation has your back arching, core fluttering dangerously close to his devilish lips. Sylus presses a firm hand on your lower stomach, though, stopping all movement and letting you stew in your desperation.

“Please,” you beg, tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes. “Please, it’s been too long and we didn’t get to go together. I missed you, I need you, please don’t make me wait.”

“You’re right, we’ve waited long enough,” he replies. His fingers push the soaked piece of fabric away from your sticky folds, and you jolt when you feel the sudden air on your sensitive pussy. Sylus pinches your thigh and you look down just in time to see him give you a quick wink before he presses his lips against you.

“Fuck, Sylus-” Your voice is a broken moan, and your hands immediately find themselves in his silky hair in a bid to pull him closer. Sylus hums in pleasure and the tiny vibrations spread throughout your body, bathing you in an electric pleasure that has your head spinning.

Sylus’s tongue is slow, gently flicking the tip up and down the length of your entire pussy so that he can collect your juices and savor what he missed over your weeks apart. His movements slowly build up a pleasurable knot in your stomach that you feel will unravel at any moment - but Sylus is the one that gets to decide when that is, leaving you entirely at his mercy.

“Please,” you gasp. Tears prick on the corners of your eyes as you tug on his hair imploringly, making his lips disconnect from your pussy for just one moment - a moment that feels like an eternity in your lust-affected state. “Sy- Sylus, please make me cum.”

His eyes meet yours, and you feel yourself clench at the dazed look in his eyes. Sylus rarely ever lets things get the best of him, you know that to be pure fact. But in this moment, with how vulnerable and hazy he looks just from lightly pleasuring you - it makes you feel incredible.

He’s quick to recover, though the hazy look in his eyes never fully diminishes. His hands tighten on your thighs and he regards you once more. “You know the signal, right?”

You tap your thumb on his forehead twice, and he gives you a smile and a quick kiss on your knee. The subtle touches have you melting for him in more ways than you could ever fathom, the sweet movements making your heart skip a beat as he slowly wrecks you from the inside out.

His mouth is back on your pussy with a flash, lips wrapping around your clit so that his tongue can lightly flick at the sensitive bud. Your head falls back onto the mattress and your chest heaves, the sudden onslaught of sensations bathing your body in an inescapable pleasure that has the knot in your stomach unravelling. “Sylus-” you begin, but he stops you.

“Cum for me, angel,” he murmurs, just audible enough for you to hear before sucking on your clit once more.

The knot in your stomach snaps at his soft command and you can barely gasp as your orgasm washes over your entire body, making your toes curl and thighs shake against his head. You barely register the moans you’re making - would anyone file a noise complaint tomorrow? You don’t really care, not when Sylus is igniting your body with the pleasure he laves over your body with just his mouth.

Your orgasm slowly subsides, and you whine at the sensitivity of your pussy as Sylus continues to suck against your hole, groaning at the taste of you against his tongue. Your hips buck so that you can try and move away from his mouth, but his hand reaches down to stop you once more. 

“You know the signal, angel.” It’s a reminder, a dangerous one when you feel his fingers slowly beginning to sink into your needy hole. “I’ll stop when you want, but you have to tell me properly.”

Even with his rough tone, he pulls away just the slightest bit - waiting for you to call the shots. His care makes your heart soar, and you shake your head the tiniest bit. He nods once more, returning to your pussy with the same amount of vigor as before, but this time, his fingers join the fray.

You whine at the feeling of his ring finger entering your cunt, the stretch making you moan. While he was gone, you had tried to fill the gaps in yourself but it never felt good as when he did it - and so you welcome the burn, especially when his middle finger joins his first finger, slowly beginning to thrust in and out.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he says in a whisper. “I missed your beautiful body, this pretty pussy…”

His voice tapers off as his fingers begin to speed up, and your voice leaves you in a pretty gasp. “The way you tighten around me as you moan, wishing it was my cock.”

His fingertips graze a certain spot in you, and you cry out. Even though you’re sensitive out of your mind, Sylus’s ministrations have you back on the teetering on the edge, ready to fall off-

-and he grants you that, letting his fingers press against your g-spot and triggering the end you so desire.

Your body seizes up and you nearly scream at the sensation, your orgasm leaving you breathless and covering your body in a light sheen of sweat. Your fingers flex against Sylus’s head - undecided on whether to pull him closer or push him away because you’re overstimulated beyond belief but you want him to continue ruining you in the way you’ve craved.

Sylus decides for the both of you, and he hastens his movements to help you ride out your orgasm. He pulls his fingers out of your fluttering hole and places his hand back on your thighs, pulling you as close as he can so that he can drown in you. You cry out when you feel his tongue lash at your clit once, twice, three times before a weaker climax washes over your body and leaves you limp on your bed.

You barely register Sylus pulling away, the drunk look on his eyes warring with the concerned frown that graces his lips. “Kitten, are you okay?” His fingers brush against your forehead, and you shiver when his thumb moves to brush the line of your jaw before pressing against your swollen lips.

“You. I need you, please.”

It’s a breathy plea, one that’s full of yearning and a signal that let’s Sylus know you’re okay. You know he would stop with just one word from you, but you have no intention of stopping until you see him unravel in the same way he made you fall apart.

You see Sylus’s hesitation, but before he can say anything you wrap your legs around his thighs to pull him closer to you, allowing for his hard cock to brush against your sensitive pussy. You both moan at the contact, and you let yourself wantonly grind your hips against the fly of his pants so that he knows just how much you want him.

“Pretty angel,” he murmurs, his fingers massaging the skin of your hips as he guides your rhythm. “You’re glowing as you make a mess of yourself on my pants, you know that? You’re so beautiful right now.”

“I just want you,” you moan back. Your hands land on top of his and you intertwine his fingers in between yours, giving him a squeeze. “I want you to feel good, too.”

“I already feel incredible, ____.” Sylus lets himself fall on top of you, shifting his weight so that his hips press against your pussy just a little bit harder. He leans down to brush a chaste kiss over your mouth and you tilt your head up, chasing the lips that you so deeply crave. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, my angel.”

“I’m more than okay,” comes your immediate response. Your hands travel down his shoulders, past defined pecs and the center of his chest. Your fingers brush the sensitive area and he groans, letting his head flop onto your shoulder. You take his heavy breaths as encouragement, tracing his abs before finally letting your fingers graze against the waistband of his pants.

“I want you in me,” you say softly, equal parts desire and honesty coloring your voice. “I missed you, Sylus. I don’t want you to leave for a long time - I want you to stay with me.”

Sylus’s eyes soften at your words, and he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. You feel his hands cover your own, and he helps you with unbuttoning his pants before he pushes the unnecessary fabric down his legs, kicking them aside.

“You already have all of me.” It’s a statement he seals with a kiss to your lips before he pulls at the flimsy lace of your panties. You force your hips up and he drags the scrap of fabric down your legs, barely casting it a glance before he tosses them over his shoulder. He adjusts your body so that your heads rest on your pillows and you’re settled comfortably before the bed, and he makes his way on top of you so that he hovers above you.

Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his swollen tip catch against your clit and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he presses himself flush against your pussy, letting himself grind messily against your cunt. “All of this for me,” he muses in between short pants. “My kitten, my angel, my ____. I’m all yours, even if you decide that you don’t want me anymore.”

“I’ll always want you,” you reply, matching your hips with his rhythm. You place your palms against his cheeks, directing his gaze so that he’s looking directly at you and the sincerity in your expression. “I’ll always find you, and you’ll always be by my side.”

A beat passes, and your heart clenches when you see an indescribable emotion pass over Sylus’s face - one full of intense yearning and a tinge of pain that lets you know he was afraid of you going against your promises in the past. His face smooths out and he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss as he begins to push himself into you.

Even with your climaxes before and how wet you currently are, it’s still a tight fit. The stretch makes you gasp against his mouth, fingernails digging into his shoulders as you try to hold on so that you don’t fall apart from just his cock barely entering you. Sylus takes his time though, massaging your hips and letting his lips wander all of your face as you relax and let him in further and further - until he’s all the way in and you’re full of him.

“Sylus-” you moan, head falling back. His head rests against your neck and he latches his mouth against your sensitive pulse point, sucking on the skin until he leaves a noticeable mark. Your walls clench at his action and you both moan at how your walls squeeze him tightly, trying to pull him in further and further.

“I forgot how fucking tight you get,” he seethes. He leans down and kisses you once again, borderline desperate from how worked up he was seeing you fall apart multiple times and now - deep inside the woman he’s so deeply in love with. “You truly never want me to leave, do you?”

“No,” you cry out. Sylus begins to move his hips - slow, rolling movements that consistently hit your sweet spot and bring you closer and closer towards your shattering point. Your ankles cross against the small of his back, keeping him in place as you begin to lose yourself in the feeling of him ruining you. “Stay with me, please.”

“I don’t intend to ever leave you, my angel,” Sylus grunts out. One of his hands moves to rest on your mound so that his fingers have easy access to your clit. His fingers strum along the sensitive bud as he punctuates his statement with a thrust of his hips, leaving you a moaning mess on his cock. “I don’t intend for the most beautiful person the universe has given me to slip in between my fingers.”

His words have your stomach tightening, and you pull him down so that you can kiss him. Unlike the last slow and languid kisses of before, this one is filled with desperation and need - letting the both of you know that you’re both reaching your respective ends.

“Please,” you whisper, neediness coloring your voice. “I want you to cum in me.”

“Fuck, ____-” he groans, voice cutting short when he hits your g-spot - making you moan and tighten impossibly more around his cock. “Are you sure, angel?”

“Please,” you beg. Your stomach tightens once more, almost about to fall towards your climax. “Cum in me, Sylus.”

“Oh, shit-” With his words he falls apart, his lips falling onto yours with a messy kiss as he cums in your pussy. The sensation triggers your final end and you fall after him, tremors wracking your body as your back arches. So lost in your pleasure, you can’t register the words that Sylus groans reverently above you, but you don’t care in the slightest.

It feels like you’re glowing from the inside out - both from the overwhelming pleasure he’s currently giving you and the intense love that you feel for him in your chest.

Sylus leans down and presses his lips against your own in an open-mouthed kiss. His kiss is messy and hot, tongues dancing together as he thrusts into you with a stilted rhythm. Even in his end, he’s still making sure you feel incredible, and your heart warms at that obvious motive.

Sylus groans after he finishes his spend, letting himself fall on top of you. The sudden weight knocks what little wind out of your body, and you laugh as you gasp for air. “Sylus!”

“Mmm, shush kitten,” he mumbles, nuzzling his nose into your neck and breathing in deeply. “I feel like my soul left my body.”

His statement draws another giggle from your chest, and you feel his smile in the kiss that he leaves on the mark on your neck. Your arms wrap around his neck and your fingers brush the sweaty strands that stick to his forehead, and you feel the almost purr that rumbles his chest at your fingernails slightly scratching his head.

“I meant what I said.” It’s a sudden serious statement that has Sylus looking up at you, although you continue to stroke his hair. “I want you to stay with me.”

His eyes soften, and he smiles at you with your most favorite smile. “And I mean it too, ____. I don’t intend to leave you in this lifetime.”

Sylus shifts upwards, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close until your breasts are pressed against his chest. His hand catches your wrist gently and he moves your hand down so that it rests on his left pec - right on top of his steadily beating heart.

“I may be a wanted criminal by the Hunter’s Association, and I may not be able to fully express my…affection for you,” he says steadily, although you catch his hesitation right before he says “affection.” He clears his throat though, and lets his nose brush against your nose. “But you, ____, are scored on my heart.” 

He presses your hand against his heart, and you feel your eyes water at the devotion in his eyes. “I swear to always be there for you.. We may not be able to ever go on big public dates, but I swear to you, I will be beside you as an equal if you’ll let me. And I…I will always protect you.”

His words render you speechless, eyes watering at his honest declaration. He may not have said it out loud, but you both know that deep down, he loves you.

And you love him.

More than life itself.

“When this world is ours, I’ll show you off and scream that you’re mine from the rooftops.” Your voice is steady with conviction, and you grin when he laughs at you. “But for now…”

Your hips roll against his once more, and you both groan when you feel his cock begin to harden against you once more.

“Why don’t we make up for lost time?”

a/n: well ,,, hello there :D i hope you enjoyed <3

[iamlostsomewhereinthegarden]

Took me a while because I literally did everyone lol, so here we have:

Obey me characters and their fashion styles Pt. 2

Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shi- This is part 2 as there is the stupid 3 gifs/images per post limit

Pt 1.

Solomon

Only has one proper fit in his closet that he put together everything else was bought and put together for him by Asmo

Has little interest in fashion and with the years blurring by in his human mind has lost track of what is actually fashionable so can't really dress properly outside of suit and tie events since there isn't much variations in that

Always in something that covers his body because he dislikes showing off his pact marks and whatever scars he has on his body

Despite this all his clothes are breathable and doesn't overheat him, he overheats often very easily and just uses magic to seem unbothered but he wears breathable clothing to avoid one more chore

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking like a damned hot mess never let him actually dress you, let him put in opinions and give out ideas but never let him actually dress you!

Diavolo

On par with Lucifer with the fact that he can only dress formally properly as he's been having to do it forever

His difference is that casual clothing (on the rare occasions that is) is a mix of Lucifer's casual and Solomon's fashion sense because he doesn't get to dress casual often and refuses to let Barbatos find something suitable for him to wear

Really likes themed clothing though and will try and force Lucifer or even push Barbatos to wear matching clothing with him Mephibfrebchd wishes he could be like that with Diavolo

Compared to Solomon though Diavolo is more on the cringe leaning side and will gladly look like a pair of dads with Lucifer and wear Hawaiian shirts with khakis

Even with his bad fashion sense it's hard to make fun of him or even tell him it sucks because what do you mean you're gonna bully someone who rarely ever gets the freedom to be chill and choose his own stuff and rarely gets a chance to wear these crappy casual clothing? WHAT DO YOU MEAN??????

Let him dress you and you'll come out wearing some matching cringe shit with him, yes it's gonna be embarrassing but on the bright side not only did the King of Hell dress you but you're matching with him! Anyone who makes fun of you is also making fun of the king so they better get ready to grovel for forgiveness

Barbatos

The king of formal wear

Despite this he does know how to dress casual and for any event and how to not look weird either

He has to as he dresses Diavolo and has been taking care of him from since forever

He's just simply one hell of a butler

His no specific style outside of not really being fond of clothing that may show his body

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking in the most ideal way of your style, he's a butler that caters to other's needs so he knows how to dress people to their tastes!

Though if you let him dress you how'd he like you to look you'll come out looking like a royal or a noble as  that is what you are to him

Simeon

(Btw why does he dress like a slut)

Has a very casual sense of style tbh, not too formal but not too cozy and lazy, the perfect middle

Though I'd have to say most of his clothes has no sleeves, he has a weird problem with sleeves on his clothing though he will wear them to be appropriate.

Enjoys the fact that heaven gives them stuff to wear cause he actually dislikes finding outfits

Despite this the king of casual comfy clothing like the first fit you try you love immediately 

Let him dress you and you'll come out in an outfit that you'll often wear cause it's so good

Luke

I feel like dressing with him would be like dress up time with a child

Doesn't know much about fashion since that is not something to be focused on in Heaven and I'm pretty sure they restricted for what they can wear

Has the innate ability to pick out very cute looking clothing though it may not always be comfortable sadly

Dresses in the cute shota fashion, think like Mitsukuni Haninozuka from Ouran Host Club

Is fine dressing in any color but likes dressing in pastel colors the most outside of any shade of blue and yellow

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking adorable! like so cute, very cute and probably matching with him.

Raphael

(Why is he dressed even sluttier????? WHY IS ASMO MORE DRESSED THAN BOTH OF THE ADULT ANGELS 90 OF THE TIME??? IS HEAVEN A STRIP CLUB????????)

If we think Solomon was bad Raphael is 10x worse because at least Solomon has an idea of what he thinks is cool and what is fashionable even if it sucks Raphael has no idea or care

All outfits chosen by himself is weird and uncoordinated or similar to his regular fit so almost everything for the world to see

Constantly manages to find the most comfortable clothes you can possibly find also, so though he looks weird he's comfy

Actually prefers to have as much skin out as possible as it makes it easier for him to move around and fight if needed

Hates clothing that fully covers his skin and it makes him feel stifled, prefers stuff that isn't close to his skin (he just like me fr)

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking veryyyyyy funky but very mobile and somehow very comfortable, demons stare at you and tell you that "you have a unique sense of fashion" and you have to let them know that you let the "Angel with the Spear dressed you today" and suddenly they understand and are sorry for you

Thirteen

Thirteen is an amazing fashionista and has an amazing sense of style

I'm sure you can tell by her personalized reaper uniform and R.A.D. uniform but she loves alt styles 

All her clothing is different and ranges from comfortable to non comfortable but most are comfortable because it's supposed to be something she likes

Also doesn't care much for how much of her body is exposed but prefers to always carry some sort of sweater she likes her arms covered but doesn't always care for sleeves or long gloves (she's just like me fr)

Go to a thrift shop with her and she'll find the coolest and comfiest stuff to wear

Let her dress you and you'll come out looking so fucking cool, you'll look like those people on magazines or that cool alt person you see that you add to your pinterest board

Mephihdewuhcds Mephistopheles

On the same level of dressing as Lucifer and Diavolo (simp) but when asked to dress down dresses like a prep kid

The brands on this man radiates so much money that Mammon's mouth waters and you look like a walking cash bag to him

Most of his clothing is very uncomfortable but he's just gotten used to it (I personally believe he comes from a shitty noble family hence why he's so stuck up) so comfy clothing is foreign and weird to him

Does not know how to dress casual (even in rich branded clothing) as the average person may see it, and is very uncomfortable in casual clothing because of his upbringing

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking similar to how Satan would dress you, a prep student that aces all their exams! (though the clothes may be a bit uncomfortable)

Tags:@kisakis-boyfriend

[serenadeonacanoe]

Next Stop: Christmas. (MYG x OFC) Chapter 4:

Pairing: Min Yoongi x OFC

Genre/Warnings: Christmas Fluff, Angst, eventual romance, eventual smut, fingering in this one

The way the snow swirls I feel like I am surrounded by dementors, the air so cold my cheeks hurt. But if the storm is a dementor… then Yoongi is Lupin and he brought chocolate.

Imagine your train breaks down in a snowstorm on the way home for Christmas. Imagine grumpy cat is on that train, too!

More on AO3

———————————

And then… it’s Christmas morning.

It’s so wholesome I almost can’t take it. Except - it turns out - I can. And I enjoy it. Maybe coming home and seeing my family, something I’d been dreading for months while going through something, had been exactly what I needed. Or maybe I just needed a break. Or to kiss a handsome stranger under a streetlight at night. One of those.

We open presents and my nephew Max is forced to sing carols. He doesn’t mind yet because he’s four, but his pitch is so off that all the grown-ups in the room struggle to keep a straight face. Still, since he takes it very seriously, we have to stay strong. There's a long, lazy breakfast and the house is loud and warm and chaotic in the best way. Eventually, I end up on the couch and ever so often, a child or a pet snuggles up next to me. But only my dad stays around long enough to have a proper conversation.

When my aunt joins us, she starts asking him about all sorts of folks they know. He used to be one of the handful of people working a local government job and the town is small enough that that means he knows everyone. She, on the other hand, loves gossip. And she knows that if she pesters him long enough, he can always add a little spice to the stories she’ll later pass on to her friends. Usually, he knows better than to talk, but eventually, he caves today. Only after she’s finished recapping everything that’s happened to her in the last couple of weeks does she turn to me. She asks about my little train adventure. I’ve told the story so many times over the last 24 hours, to every family member, neighbor, friend, that I’ve figured out how to keep it short and sweet. She seems satisfied. But then she turns back to my dad.

“Yoongi, that’s that Korean kid, right?” I sit up, trying not to react too obviously. I watch her face. My dad nods. “With the drunk mother?” I feel my dad take a breath, but eventually, he nods again. I guess he doesn’t like that being the only way she’s described, but the answer is still yes. Oh.

She launches into every story she remembers about Yoongi’s mother, just like she did with everyone else, but this time I’m listening closer. She talks about how the family moved to the military base because Yoongi’s dad was an instructor there, but he left when Yoongi had just started kindergarten. How they always seemed to wear hand-me-downs. How his mother’s English was poor and never really improved. The way she describes it, you’d think she was talking about an Oliver Twist character in Victorian England.

“Now now…” my dad finally cuts in when she goes too far. “Well…” she pushes back, not letting him stop her. “What I do know is she eventually started drinking and sometimes the kid had to help her walk out of church or school fairs or whatever it was.”

My dad still doesn’t look thrilled, but he doesn’t deny it. And then…something clicks. It’s not a full memory, not quite. I don’t remember kid Yoongi. But I do remember a woman in a purple dress talking way too loud at some open-day event at the local fire brigade… am I making that up?

“But you’d know her, right?” my aunt asks. “I’m sure she got financial aid or something…” My dad rubs his forehead. “Listen…” he says after a pause. “All I’ll say is, she’s a very sweet woman who went through an incredibly hard time. And what she told me in confidence, I’m keeping to myself. But from what I heard, it’s a good thing the dad left. And she’s doing a bit better these days after Yoongi moved back for a while during the pandemic when she wasn’t doing well. I think he might be here for Christmas, but I don’t think he’s back for good. I haven’t talked to her since I retired. She’s been working at the store on Maple Road for ages and everyone there loves her. That matters more than the fact she had a rough time.”

My aunt looks like she doesn’t quite know how to respond. On the one hand, she got more info than she expected. On the other, she looks a bit scolded, as if my dad just reminded her to get her priorities straight. And my dad sighs, knowing he still probably said too much. And me? I sit there and think.

No wonder Yoongi used to hate this town. And hated it even more when he came back. If people like my aunt are still talking about them like that years later… this place wasn’t exactly kind.

I check my phone. I’ve been debating texting Yoongi all morning, but I keep hesitating. I don’t want to read too much into last night. It was a holiday kiss, right? That’s all. Even if it wasn’t... texting the next day? I know I shouldn’t care about outdated gender roles, but still…

My phone buzzes. "How has your day been so far?"

The timing is perfect. I’ve been second-guessing everything and this message just fills me up with more excitement than it probably should. There’s no real reason for him to text me - except that he wanted to. And that feels good. So I reply immediately. No games.

"I’ve had enough food to keep me going until February,and my kid cousin really, really can’t sing. So great. Yours?" "Rather quiet. Just the two of us. She’s making me watch all the Christmas movies I liked as a kid."

I can’t help but think of little Yoongi helping his mom, how hard that must have been. But then I stop myself before I go full Grinch-heart-growth and turn him into my Oliver Twist. Even though it probably wouldn’t have been realistic to meet up again today, I still feel a bit let down that he’s busy. But he’s not too busy to text. And neither am I.

My mum eventually gets annoyed that I’m glued to my phone, but I don’t care. I sneak off to take a selfie for Yoongi - after he’s the one to send one first this time. I wouldn’t have taken him for a selfie guy, but he seems to like the low-key flirting of it just as much as I do.

Two Home Alone movies and a full dinner later, he texts, "I’ve officially merged with the couch." Meanwhile, I’m upstairs in my pyjamas, finally back in my room. These days of eating and socializing are more tiring than I expected - but in a good way. In New York, I’d probably feel like I was wasting my time off. Here, though, with the snow and the quiet, it feels perfect.

"Gonna take a walk before bed.” he writes.

And I’m irrationally disappointed he didn’t ask me to come. God, who even am I right now? I laugh at myself, set my phone aside, grab a book and climb into bed. Tomorrow’s another day.

I make it through seventeen whole pages when I hear something. A noise. At first, I ignore it. Then it happens again. And again. I sit up straight. Because I think… I think the most teenage rom-com thing ever is happening. Someone’s throwing pebbles at my window. And there’s no doubt in my mind who it is. Well. If it’s my high school friend Louise - who’s also in town to see family and who I’m not planning to see for two more days - I’m going to be seriously disappointed.

It isn’t. It’s Yoongi. He’s standing there in the snow, just beneath the streetlight. The light’s just strong enough for me to recognize him, but I think I would’ve known it was him anyway. I can see the grin on his face. When I open the window and lean out, he grins even wider. Though that might be because I’m in a brand new pair of horrendous Christmas pyjamas and my messy bun is just... messy, not cute messy.

“Really?” I whisper, laughing. He just shrugs, then nods. We look at each other for a second. Then his gaze shifts toward the winter-bare ivy climbing up the house… or rather, the wooden bars holding it up. I follow his eyes. Then shake my head. Hold it, Romeo.

“Dude, no. Those have been here since I was in elementary school.” But he walks toward them anyway. Grabs them. The whole thing wobbles like it might collapse from a strong breeze. He realizes it too.

He looks back up at me and my heart melts. I point to the door. “Wait for me. I’ll open the door.” My heart’s pounding as I sneak downstairs, past the living room where my parents and sister are still drinking wine with other family. I unlock the back door. Yoongi steps inside without saying anything. He shakes off the snow, then slips off his shoes, carrying them quietly as we creep through the house.

Just as we reach the stairs, my dad appears at the top. He looks between the two of us, bites his lip to keep from laughing, then steps aside. Gestures - completely silent - like he’s a waiter showing us to our table.

I nearly burst out laughing, but manage to keep it in as we pass him. Once we’re in my room and I’ve shut and locked the door behind us, I turn around and see Yoongi’s face - completely red. The blush has crept down to his neck. But then that grin I like so much comes back.

He pulls off his hat and scarf, tosses them aside and walks right up to me. Kisses me hard - one hand on my back, the other sliding to the back of my head. I’m still laughing a little. But then I melt. The kiss is over-the-top, cringey, maybe, but also exciting. And I’m really glad he’s here.

It doesn’t take long before his tongue finds mine, his hands move across my body and somehow we’re stumbling toward the bed. We end up on it without bumping heads and his jacket comes off.

Okay. Kissing him inside definitely beats last night, because I can hear his breath against my lips. His hands on my body are bare now, no gloves between us. And I’m only chilly because his skin is still cold, but it’s a good sensation - it makes me gasp, which makes him huff in return. His body presses me into the mattress just right. It’s not long before his lips are on my throat, his fingers on the seam of my pants and he’s getting hard against me.

And it’s really costing me all my sanity to eventually mumble a soft, “Look… I don’t think I can…” It’s like I deflate him. At least, that’s what his sigh sounds like. But it’s not annoyed - more like he knows this probably isn’t a great idea, either. Even though I really want to. By god, I’m so incredibly wet. A part of me just doesn’t want to care, but… I do. He rolls off me and lies on his back and I sigh too because… damn. I glance over and he’s closed his eyes. For a second, I get insecure and wonder if that was the only reason he came. Which I wouldn’t judge, but still.

Then he just... somehow knows exactly what to do. His hand moves over, a little awkwardly given the angle and touches my hair. Just a small sign. Yeah, I guess he just needs a moment to calm down, that’s all. I take a deep breath of relief and shift closer until my head rests on his shoulder. We lie there in silence for a while.

“Your dad is cool, right? I’m not about to be hunted out of the house with a pitchfork?” he asks after a while and instantly there’s a vivid image of that in my head. “Nah, he’s alright. He’s probably gonna give me a lot of shit at breakfast, but he won’t tell anyone.” Yoongi nods. “Always liked him.”

I don’t respond, because I don’t quite know how. His fingers slowly comb through my hair - the bun gave up somewhere mid-kiss - and I’m almost glad the only light on is from my bedside lamp. My hair must look like a bird’s nest, but I don’t care. This is too nice. The window is still cracked open and in the distance, we can hear a car driving through the snow. But we’re warm enough not to feel the cold.

I see him glance around and eventually, he starts grinning. I follow his line of sight and realize he’s found the snowball collection on the other side of the room. When I was a kid, they’d been everywhere. Later, as a teenager, they got boxed up and moved to the attic, only a few special ones stayed on the back shelf. But as soon as I moved out, my mum moved them all back in. Sometimes I wondered if she just preferred the memory of child-me over the teenage or grown-up version. I wouldn’t blame her.

Now I can’t help but get a little embarrassed by the number of snow globes, especially since he must think I’d kept them around all this time. I try to hide my smile behind a pillow. He reaches up toward an extra-big, extra-glittery globe perched on a single shelf, gives it a light shake, then holds it in front of his face for a few seconds before setting it back down. The snow starts to settle around a tiny castle inside.

My eyes fixate on the glitter, blinking under the warm light. And only then do I glance back and realize he’s watching me. I duck behind the pillow a little more, because I don’t want to be a giggling mess, but there’s just this really light, fluffy feeling in my stomach. And instead of teasing me or laughing, he smiles. The same genuine smile he had last night when he said good night. And it just gets wider as he watches me.

And I just know what it means. He thinks I’m cute. He likes what he sees. He’s happy. It’s not like me to be so sure of something like that. But there’s just something about him that makes me feel at ease - like it doesn’t matter that we technically only met 48 hours ago.

“What?” I ask eventually, but he doesn’t reply. He just leans over and kisses me again. A very different kiss. Slow. Gentle. And then again. And again. I hadn’t made out with anyone this long, knowing it wouldn’t lead to more, in ages. And it’s… nice, actually. It reminds me of a time when just the idea of kissing someone was enough. When that was exciting in and of itself. We take breaks. Whisper. Laugh. Kiss some more.

“You’re staying a few more days, right?” he asks eventually. I nod, assuming that means he is, too. “Good.”

It’s risky to let him fall asleep in my bed and I know it, but I still do. The moment just feels too good. In truth, I hardly know enough about him to form a proper opinion, but lying there like that with Yoongi feels too good to send him home. I hadn’t even really decided to let him stay, I just stopped thinking for a while. Eventually, our eyes kept closing.

When we wake up, it’s early. Just after 5 a.m. No idea what woke me. Maybe the not-yet-familiar body next to me. Maybe it’s the same for him. What I do know is this would be the perfect moment to sneak him out before anyone notices. The longer we wait, the higher the chance someone walks the dog or a child sleepily wanders through the hall.

But then I notice Yoongi is awake too and when our eyes meet, I’m done for. We were so comfortable around each other last night, but now? Now it’s like he’s seeing me for the first time all over again. His gaze is warm and curious, a little amused. I stare too long at the little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. So I kiss it. He scoffs softly, but then kisses me back and just like that, the mood shifts. We’re exactly where we left off.

“God, I want to make you cum so badly.” He says it so casually. Calm, even. Like he’s asking if I slept well.If the words themselves didn’t already short-circuit my brain, the way he says them definitely does. For a moment, I just look at him. He’s enjoying how hard it hits me. Eventually, I find my voice. “How?” That seems to surprise him.“With my fingers.” he says slowly, lifting one hand like he’s showing me a gift. Now, look. I’m not even particularly into fingers like some people are. But there’s no way I don’t get turned on in this exact moment. Because I’m picturing it now, of course I am.

My lips feel dry. I lick them. He notices. Smiles wider. “Unless you don’t want to. Which is obviously fine…” And god, I like that he says that. It should be obvious, but not everyone makes it feel like it is.

My hands find the fabric of his shirt almost without thinking. “Maybe… just a little?” I whisper. “You want to cum just a little?” he laughs under his breath, then moves his hand through my hair, across my cheek.

I shake my head.I want to cum a lot. On his fingers.

“Please…” I murmur, guiding his hand down. He looks both proud and a little smug at how needy I am, but I couldn’t care less. His hand stops, moves back and just when I think I’ve misread the moment, he spits into it. Then slides under my pajama pants. There’s no real need for spit, to be honest. I’m already soaking. But when his fingers touch me - his thumb on my clit, index and middle fingers teasing at either side - something about the extra slickness makes the first contact feel so good I gasp straight into his neck.

Slow strokes. Circles. Gentle pressure. Fuck, he’s good at this. The cocky grin fades into something focused. He moves his head, watching me, watching my face. I let him. Let him see just how much I’m enjoying this.

When he kisses me again, two fingers slip inside at once. The only reason I don’t moan loud enough to wake the house is because he catches the sound with his mouth. His fingers curl. Get deeper. Faster. He gives me a second to breathe, but not much more. I can still feel his breath on my cheek. I slap a hand over my mouth when his thumb returns to my clit and my legs fall open so wide it probably looks like I’m trying to climb on top of him while his hand is between my thighs.

“I knew you’d like it.” he whispers, breathless himself. I nod. Once. Twice. Can’t stop. I like this so much.

He doesn’t stop. He just keeps going, steady and deep until my body tightens, every muscle coiled and then… I break. It’s so intense I have to hold onto him to keep from screaming. My mouth stays shut, but my body shakes as he keeps rubbing gently, coaxing every last wave out of me until I go limp in his arms.

Yoongi kisses me, slow and lazy like we have all the time in the world. I feel wrecked in the best way. Eventually, he pulls his fingers out and I groan at the loss. My hand moves down his chest, straight to the very obvious bulge in his pants.

He stops me, hand over mine. “Not today?” I blink. “What?” I look at him, confused. His clothed dick is literally in my hand. He’s hard. Very. He smiles, shakes his head. “Because I know I won’t have as much restraint as you. Just the thought of…” He shudders. “... your pretty lips on my dick is already too dangerous.”

Well. Thanks. Now I’m thinking about that too.

It’s hard to let go. I want to give him just a little something. Something to repay him for making me melt into the mattress. But if he’s drawing a line, I should respect it like he did last night.

Still. I pout. It’s not subtle. He runs his dry hand through his hair, still visibly worked up. “Look. Maybe… my mom’s going to my aunt’s out of town tomorrow. Maybe I already wondered if you’d come over.”

Now I’m the one smirking.“Sounds like a pretty great idea.”

When I let him out the front door a while later, I’m still dazed by what just happened. I sneak back upstairs, tiptoe into my room. And I swear, I can still feel his fingers inside of me. Good morning, indeed.

[vivianleighwishesshewasme]

Lovely View- Tommy x Grace

Tommy wakes up Grace for a surprise* Fluff (request from A03)

______________________________________________

Lovely View

Grace groaned as she felt a foreign touch on the thigh. She knew the hands, just not the texture.

She stretched and yawned. One green eye cracked open as if to assure her sleep filled eyes and brain that it was in fact the object of her desires. 

“Tommy, what time is it?” Her voice cracked and heavy with sleep. She blinked a few times, the clock read 6 a.m. She didn’t have work today and he’d promised to take the day off and spend time with her. Instead he was already up, shaved and dressed for a day out. 

Had something happened? 

“Time to get up, lazy posh girl. I have a surprise planned.” His deep voice rumbled, seemingly bored but she’d caught the lilt of amusement in it. He was playing with her. 

She wasn’t awake enough for this. 

“The suns not even up yet, why are you awake? You promise to spend the day with me.” 

“And I am trying to. I told you, "I have a surprise planned, comme on, up with you.” Drags blankets and sheets off causing her to chill. She scowled in response, earning a chuckle from him. 

She knew he wasn’t going to give up but she wasn’t willing to give in without a playful fight.

“Tommy, don't you ever enjoy sleep? Some of us need it, call it beauty sleep.” she replied grumpily as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She scrounged the headboard for her robe. 

“Haven't slept since France. Besides, if you get any more beautiful Grace I’ll have to take you so far out in the country that no one will know we exist out there. Let's go.” His impatience was enduring. She’d also seen enough of his personality to be aware that he’d haul her outside soon in just her nightgown and robe if she didn’t comply.  

It had taken her ten minutes, he’d even helped by brushing her hair and putting her coat on her.

She wanted to question why this event was timed but knew he wouldn’t tell. 

“Skipping breakfast?” She walked past the entrance of the house, two horses were saddled and waiting for them outside. He had his hand on the small of her back as she gently ushered her out. 

He handed her a lantern, her guess was to guide the horse in the dark, she was surprised when they started toward the trees and countryside proper. 

“Tommy, where are we going?” She sounded hesitant, she knew nothing bad was going to happen but usually activities in the dark meant illegal things. 

“I told you, it's a surprise Grace. There will be breakfast, come on.” He clicked his tongue which was a command to the horse's throat and picked up the pace. 

As they crested a hill the valley beneath them exploded in vivid golds, oranges and yellows. The sunrise was coming up over the hill. 

The sky was set in soft pastels of yellows, pinks and blues like an easter egg. Tommy grabbed her horse and they sat just watching the day come alive. 

“Look over there Grace.” He pointed to a little table now fully illuminated near a wagon. She grinned. Johnny Doggs had been camped here all night to presumably set up the surprise for her. 

She smiled at him and reached out to hold his hand.

“Thought I’d get you out of that house, I know since we got back you’ve had a lot of adjustments.” He turned their horses and led them slowly down the hill. 

A gentle breeze picked up and flooded Graces of the nostril with the smell of eggs and bacon. Her stomach gave a rumble or approval. She sheepishly grinned as he laughed. Little did she know, he was hungry too. 

“It was worth waking up early for Tommy. Thank you.” She sat down on a chair near a little table they had set up the night before. 

“So, are there any more surprises I should prepare for today?” A cheeky twinkle and a wink was sent his way. He shook his head no. 

“Thought we could spend the day together quietly. See where it leads.” He added as he eagerly devoured his food. He’d been up for an extra two hours this morning to pull this off. He was done planning for the day. 

“It's too cold to have sex here Thomas, there is still dew on the grass.” She grinned as she bit into her bread and jam. He raised an eyebrow as if to scold her for her dirty thoughts. She knew better, he loved it when her mind and mouth were on him. 

“Is that all you think about Grace?” He rolled his eyes but she could see the board smile from his mug.

“Shut up.”

[yuri-is-online]

I hereby curse thee with thought of Victorian romantic goth Fem Riddle

So when it comes to gender bending twst I always lean back in my chair and have a think about whether or not it would change the character arc/personality of the individual character. In the case of Riddle, would a Fem Riddle feel even more pressure from her mother? She's not just a status symbol anymore, she's literally another version of her mother... would she find it even harder to escape the abusive cycle because of that? Her clothes are all picked out for her, she's so strict about the rules of her style she barely has any fun with her clothes. Would she come to resent the color black, would her overblot allow her to finally let her friends in and slowly allow them to add more color? Or would she find a way to empower herself by taking control of her clothes and thinking of them as just hers?

Vil's whole thing is that he is a man who dresses in a more feminine manner, but still identifies as a man while rebelling against concepts being "gendered." He is who he is and he will not allow anyone or anything other than himself define what that is. If this was Fem Vil, would she lean more into masculine clothing? I tend to see Fem Vil as being kind of butch? She's still really bougie and elegant but she wears her hair shorter than canon Vil and leans towards plainer looking suits. I could see her pulling off cooperate goth really well (or perhaps I am just projecting because I think that style is so fucking cool)

Leona is too lazy to be into alt fashion. The only thing Fem Leona wears is expensive athleisure clothes and she's not sorry about it. She's walking around Savanaclaw in a sports bra, sweats, and those birkenstock sandals canon Leona wears. Fem Ruggie could totally be punk, but I also see her as not bothering with alt fashion in favor of thrifting whatever she can. She's wearing those clothes, not styling them that's for people who don't have 20 jobs. Jamil probably doesn't have much freedom to express himself??? And I could see it being worse with Fem Jamil, I could see her loving punk and alt fashions and looking forward to getting to be herself at NRC until Fem Kalim shows up and she has to take off the piercings and make up to be a proper retainer again.

Fem Deuce is a delinquent pretending to be a prep. She is failing miserably and we love that for her.

[daz4i]

ok now i'm at home in bed and can make a proper post with all my thoughts. gushing abt personal stuff and possibly getting into sensitive territory here and there under the cut

today was really nice 🥹

i love our group i'm so glad i got to meet them i'm so glad they are a part of my life

everything went well. i'm honestly. extremely proud of myself for making it through this entire process, and not giving up like i at times wanted to. the last few weeks where my role was tweaked a little were super fun and today was the highlight, like seeing and hearing the audience clap even when i did just the littlest things was so. satisfying

after the show lots of people, including complete strangers, came up to me and told me i was great and that i was both funny and touching and they loved my part, i got so many hugs ahdjkflg 😭😭😭 beyond the clapping and laughter i got during the show which were already nice 🥹

the show itself was received better than i expected, and i started liking it more in recent weeks too hehe. we leaned into the campiness of it even more and it made it so much more fun to experience

it reminded me how much i love theater and how much i love being on a stage and not to sound spiritual or w/e but i truly was meant for this like this is what i'm supposed to be doing. i hope i can some day do it for money lol enough to make a living at least :P

. my whole body hurts (fr this show was so much exercise for my lazy ass 😩) but it's a good kind of hurt? bc it comes with satisfaction. hope i don't regret saying this tomorrow :P

in addition to playing in the show i was also somewhat of an assistant director lol. both our director and someone from the management team who was involved in the process mentioned it to my mom separately, like our director praised me for this and said my insight was always helpful and that i had great ideas omg 😭 this entire time i was worried that i'm like. taking over too much or smth bc i always had shit to say abt everything fr :P but ig it was received well 🙏 here and there i gave comments to other actors too to remind them stuff or correcr certain movements or lines and i was always worried it annoyed them but. they never got mad at any point. so maybe i can accept that i'm allowed to take space and offer my insight and not only will nothing bad happen, but good things will happen even hehe.

so this is where i get into the sensitive stuff i mentioned. bc if you follow me then you probably know my mental state is Not Great to say the least. and while i did have a lot of anxiety today (even got 2 pieces of somewhat bad news during the day which ofc were both huge bummers) i didn't think abt wanting to die even once. at some point my mean brain tried to bring it up and i managed to shut it down immediately which practically never happens (even when i'm having fun with friends it usually takes a bit more time for me to shake the thought away). which is kind of amazing and also another confirmation that i should be doing this more probably. i think

and. i mentioned being proud of myself. that's also smth that never happens but my aforementioned mean brain can't argue this time bc i absolutely objectively DO have the right to be proud of myself for everything i've done

less than one year ago i barely went out, maybe twice a week at most. the only people i met regularly were my parents (bc. i live with them lol) and my close friends. now i go out 4 times a week at the minimum and i interact not only with my fellow actors but other people in the art program as well, i use public transport which i basically never did since i was like. in high school. and talk to strangers even though I'm still terrified

i didn't just go on a stage but allowed myself to be filmed and managed to look at pictures of myself from the dress rehearsal despite having Issues™️ with this sort of thing. being seen wasn't bad. it was good even. i didn't feel as self conscious about the whole thing as i usually do basically

it's kind of amazing to see how much i've changed tbh. achieved. i didn't think smth like this could happen, let alone so quickly (and during. a literal war. that obviously didn't help anyone's mental state)

like. i mentioned being proud of myself. and this is a part of it, doing things that are so huge for someone like me and compared to who i usually am. but i think even compared to a normal person, i did a pretty damn good job that most people don't normally do, and i absolutely earned the right to feel good for the work i put in

^even thinking this is like chewing glass for me so this is ALSO an achievement actually. me feeling good about myself i mean. feeling pride. acknowledging my own success. makes me look back at other things i do/did that others are proud of me for and go "huh. i guess they're right" even tho i denied it before

idk. maybe i'll get a major adrenaline crash and forget these feelings tomorrow. maybe they'll last for a few days. maybe they'd even make a long term mark! who knows! i guess we can only hope (realistically speaking, the way i know myself, it won't stick :P but who knows. maybe just like i am currently building myself and my life little by little, i'll keep accumulating successes like this little by little too, solidify my self esteem a bit more at a time lol

idk how to finish this post. uh. if you read this i'm kissing you on the mouth. i'd say i hope i don't sound too conceited but nah i earned the right to be so anyway 🧐 no one gets to tell me otherwise

[wardofthecross]

dear Father Ward

you know what Gary does, you know who he looks for. there isn't a part of me who was loved by anyone except him. ive alreadyran from a life i couldnt live and ended up with him instead. this is truly, sincerely, where i belong, all that i have

i was dead long before i met the devil.

wyborn is not hurt. hes not even here. hes a coward, and that much i know. he'll be here eventually, because he has to be, and because *you* are. and im not letting you fix anything for him until he owns up to his sins, being tempted like a common WHORE. stupid fucking vows of celibacy he cant even uphold have you seen him and how he dresses hes a moron thats not how hes SUPPOSED to hes TOLD me hes told me hes supposed to look different wear that stole in a more proper way but hes TOO FUCKING LAZY TO DO SO and those priests who worked here wouldnt tell him otherwise what good were they? they dont even know anything they were half blind i fucking fixed that im keeping this church clean even if i shouldnt and you should SEE that but you dont you fucking cant because what do YOU know what kind of a priest even are you if you cant just

im hanging her from the rafters as soon as he gets here, because he will, because he'll try to find you.

if you visit, that can wait.

jessie.

Jessie,

I’m writing back rather quickly. I don’t even know if I’m saying this right. I’m afraid, I’ll admit it. I’ve seen letters like this before- I’ve seen what comes after.

But Jessie, you wrote to me. You didn’t have to. That alone means something to me. It means you're still reaching out, even if you don’t know why. Even if you're angry. Even if you're hurting. There’s something inside of you that’s still fighting for the light.

You said this is where you belong, that Gary was the only one who ever loved you. I know what that kind of love looks like, Jessie. I know it can feel beautifully intoxicating when someone finally looks at you like they’re actually seeing you for the first time. I know how easy it is to believe you’re special, maybe even chosen, when really you're just…trapped.

He found me once, too. Not just Gary, but the man behind him. The real thing. I believed him when he whispered that he could help me, save me from that place. That I was to die unless I gave over the life of a young woman. I believed it and nearly lost someone I had tried so desperately to save.

You’re not the only one who ran from a life you couldn’t survive. You’re not the only one who thought maybe damnation was the only way to feel real. I know the voice of the Devil, Jessie, and I know he’s been speaking to you.

But it truly is not too late to turn around.

Wyborn isn’t a coward. I don’t know where he is, and that’s eating me alive, but I know his heart. He’s been trying. He confessed his failings to me because he wanted to make it right. Isn’t that worth at least something?

You said you’re going to hang “her” from the rafters. Please, Jessie, I need you to tell me who. If there’s still time, we can stop this. There’s still a way back to the light

You don’t have to believe in me. But please try believe me when I say that there’s more than this. You don’t have to carry the Devil’s name. You don’t have to keep hurting yourself just to prove that you’re worthy of punishment.

I will come to you. I will help you. Even now. I mean it. Even if you spit in my face, I will still come. But please, don’t cross that line. Don’t do something you can’t undo. Don’t let him take more from you than he already has.

You are not dead,

You are not alone.

Please, Jessie.

- John

[tc-doherty]

Book One | Chapter Nineteen

Index | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tag list: @bloodlessheirbyjacques @magefaery @did-i-do-this-write @marrowwife

@muddshadow @outpost51 @full-on-sam @bluberimufim

@unclear-contributions @talesfromtheunknowable @guessillcallitart @flowerprose

@ashirisu @xarrixii @the-letterbox-archives

(ask to be added)

Her suite in the summer palace was much smaller than the room she had been given before. There was a cozy sitting area, and a small bathing chamber, but no proper bedroom. Instead the room was curtained off. Therefore there was nothing to stifle the sound of someone knocking on the door much too early for Patrice's taste. She also heard Maria moving towards the door from her own connected room.

"She’s still asleep," the maid said.

There was a swish of the door brushing against the rug as it swung wide open. "I doubt it," Felisjyta said cheerfully.

At the sound of the knight's voice, the cat jumped down from the foot of the bed and ran to meet her. Patrice followed more slowly, pausing to wrap herself in an indigo robe before making her way to the sitting area. "I was asleep until someone so rudely intruded."

Felisjyta was scratching the cat under the chin. When Patrice arrived, Felisjyta looked up at her and grinned. "No reason to let yourself get lazy just because it's summer. You ought to come join Errys and me in the garden. We're going to be practicing together. You do still want to learn how to fight, correct?"

"Is there not some tedious breakfast to attend?" Patrice asked. Maria stifled a giggle.

Felisjyta gave the cat one last scratch and stood up. "No, our mornings are our own, apparently. Court doesn't start properly until lunch. Come on, come join us. It'll be good for you to vent your frustration and tire yourself out before we join the others again."

"Well, she can't get ready with you standing around here taking up space," Maria said briskly. "Off with you. I'll send her out when she's dressed."

Felisjyta laughed, as she so often did. "It's not as if I'm a man. She hasn't got anything I haven't got, except maybe a few scales." Even so, the knight let herself be pushed out of the room. "Come find us in the garden when you're done!"

Fortunately, Maria went easy on her. In just a quarter of an hour she turned Patrice out of the room in a linen kirtle and belt, with nothing more elaborate about her hair than a braid. That done, Patrice and the cat went looking for the gardens.

Unlike her rooms in New Iber, this did not have a convenient door to the outside. However, such doors were almost as common as windows in the summer palace. It did not take her long to find one. And since Felisjyta had not said where in the gardens she and Errys would be, Patrice wandered about the rows of bushes and flowers, knowing she would be able to see them easily above the waist high plants.

They were already deeply engaged by the time Patrice found the wide, paved grotto they had taken over for practice that morning. For a moment she simply stood on the path, watching the two fight. This was different from their fight during the tournament. That time both women had been overheated and exhausted from earlier matches during the day, plus they had been weighed down by the heavy jousting armor. Now, neither of those things were true.

They moved with a grace that they hadn't been able to reach on the sandy tournament field that day, and once again Patrice was struck with just how beautiful human fighting could be. Performed atop a colorful mosaic of a shining sun and surrounded by fragrant roses, it was even more striking to the eye, even if they were moving more slowly than they would with armor to protect them. She would have simply watched them all morning if Errys hadn't caught sight of her.

"Ah, Patrice. Come join us."

"I had almost hoped you would take no notice of me. I like watching you fight, both of you." Patrice entered the grotto and moved to stand near the two knights. Felisjyta handed her a wooden sword, which had been leaning up against a stone bench at the edge of the clearing. It was the same wooden sword Patrice had used before – evident by the scorch marks on the leather grip.

"You'll never forget where to put your hands," Felisjyta joked again.

Patricia shook her head, then told the cat to sit to one side. With him out of the way, she picked up the sword and fell into the first stance Felisjyta had been teaching her.

"Not bad," Errys said. She turned to Felisjyta. "So you can teach after all."

"I told you so," the redheaded knight said. "How about we show her what you can do so far?"

Patrice said, "I thought this lesson was supposed to be about me learning, not you showing off. Perhaps I will ask Errys to teach me instead."

Felisjyta put a hand over her heart. "Traitor! You wound me!"

Errys just rolled her eyes and moved to stand in front of Patrice. "Why don't you try a high attack and we'll see how well she taught you."

Patrice did as she was bid and soon the sound of wood clacking on wood echoed around the grotto once more. Errys did not fight the way Felisjyta did. She held herself differently, moved differently, held her sword at different angles. Patrice could only assume it was a difference between Runerian and Serzek fighting styles.

She had scarcely adjusted to that when Felisjyta inserted herself into the pattern as well and began giving Patrice her own set of commands.

The two knights didn't fight one another, but worked together seamlessly to force Patrice to divide her attention between them. When she became distracted, a sharp rap from the unattended sword would bring her attention back to the other knight. This awkward dance went on for half an hour, until Errys managed to twist Patrice's wooden sword out of her hands. It landed on the cobblestone path with a clatter.

Patrice smiled and rubbed a particularly sore spot on her hip where Felisjyta had smacked her. "That, I think, is enough for me today. I'm not ready for such a thing."

"You did well enough," Felisjyta said, retrieving the sword and leaning it back against the bench along with her own. "I think your hearing helps you more than ours helps us. Still, I'm famished, and there's breakfast to eat as well. I'm all for stopping."

"We've barely been here an hour, and you already want to stop? You Serzeks are always thinking with your stomachs," Errys chided, wagging her finger at Felisjyta. But she too put her blade against the bench. Under the bench sat a plain wicker basket, which the knight removed.

There was no blanket to sit upon, but they hardly needed one with the well-kept mosaic underfoot. The three women arranged themselves on the stone and split the food that had been provided for them: a few sweet rolls, fresh fruit, boiled eggs, and a carafe of cool, sweet tea. The cat joined them, lounging on the stones next to Patrice.

"Did the cooks prepare this for you to bring out here?" Patrice asked.

Errys shook her head. "There's just a board in the dining room loaded with food. I grabbed what I thought we might want to eat after exercising a bit. There is more variety inside if you want something else."

"This is fine for me, for now."

"It's a nice breakfast for a beautiful summer morning," Felisjyta said, helping herself to the eggs.

"Not so beautiful," Errys said. "Blue skies now, but it will be raining by lunchtime. You can tell from the direction of the wind. We'll all be stuck inside with one another for the day."

"A little rain never hurt anyone," Patrice said. She took a sip of the tea. It was much sweeter than she expected, but still refreshing.

"Humans catch sick easier than dragons, I fear," said Errys. "They won't want to risk the lives of the royal family to a rainfall. And it would be beyond rude of us not to attend to them. Thus, we'll be inside."

Patrice sighed and took her time eating a roll. She still didn't understand why humans felt the need to flock together like crows.

"We could still run," Felisjyta said wistfully. "Take off in the rain and not stop till we hit the border. I want to go home again, without Rozhalea's leash around my neck."

Felisjyta looked as trapped as Patrice often felt. Patrice sympathized, but as dissatisfied and irritated as she could get, she wasn't quite ready to give up on Runeria yet. "If we were to run," she said, turning the roll around and around in her hands, "we ought to have done it before we arrived. Now, for better or worse, we are all committed."

Errys gave a great sigh and wrapped her arms around her knees. "I just wanted to be in the tournament. My parents did marry legally, no matter how displeased my grandparents were." She paused. "I just wanted to be acknowledged as a legitimate knight, that's all."

Patrice looked from one knight to the other. "I think of all the people to win, you two may have been the worst choices of all. None of us wants to be here."

Errys shook her head. "None of us want to be here, but we must all play the game now that we are. It's only a few months."

Patrice said nothing and instead concentrated on feeding bits of egg to the cat, who took the food from her hands with surprising delicacy. Only a few months to a dragon was a very short amount of time indeed.

Felisjyta was less graceful. She laid down on the ground and stared at the sky. "Only a few months, ha! I've been here over a year now and other than a short trip back for my sister's wedding, I haven't been home at all. And that's still better than the other knights have got."

Errys shrugged. "I didn't know we were going that general. But the wedding will happen once the new season starts, and then you might be allowed to leave."

"I hope so. I long for mountains and cool weather and decent beer," Felisjyta sighed.

"And you Patrice?" Errys asked. "What is it that you want?"

"Not this," she said. "I too long for wilderness and freedom. Beyond that, I truly don't know."

Index | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[luxuryjades]

The Ghosts We Carry

𝓐 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂

Mae Mobley is a white girl in 1930’s Jim Crow Mississippi born into a broken family. In the midst of her trying to find her way through this segregated society and keep up her flawless facade, she meets Elijah, a black boy that unexpectedly tears it all down.

It was hot as sin. Sweat stuck to her back, hair curling at the edges no matter how tight she’d pinned it that morning. She kept her shoulders squared and her chin high, giving off that air she’d practiced since she was thirteen—the “I’m fine, I’m proper, and I got somewhere to be” look.

“You lost, sugar?”

The voice came low and close to her ear, warm with something that sounded like trouble.

Mae stiffened before turning. He stood there, leaning against a wooden post like he owned the air around him. Slim, dark skin catching the late-afternoon sun like oil on water. A lazy smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I ain’t lost,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes. “Just lookin’.”

“Uh huh.” His gaze dragged slow across her face like he was reading every lie she was telling. “White girl don’t end up on this side of town by accident.”

“Maybe I like cheap peaches.”

“Maybe you like attention.”

Mae’s mouth twitched, but she swallowed whatever sharp thing was about to come out. Couldn’t risk anyone noticing. Not with old Mr. Langley watching from behind the counter and a couple dusty kids sitting barefoot on the curb, staring like she’d grown two heads.

She stepped in closer, voice dropping to a hiss. “You think I won’t get you fired for talkin’ to me like that?”

“You think I got a job to lose?” He grinned wider, but it was mean. “Go on then, run back to your daddy. Bet he’d love to hear how his little girl’s flirtin’ with the help.”

Her stomach twisted at that, and for one sharp second, she wanted to slap him. Instead, she shoved a coin onto the counter, grabbed two peaches—one overripe and soft, the other rock-hard—and stormed off down the dirt road like her life depended on it.

She didn’t turn back. Not when she heard him laugh, not when the boys on the corner whispered, not even when she felt that tight, sour heat building behind her eyes.

That night, after her father stumbled through the door smelling like whiskey and gasoline, Mae sat on her bedroom floor with the lamp off, bruises blooming under her thin cotton dress.

“You’re too mouthy,” he’d slurred before backhanding her into the doorframe. “Ain’t no man ever gonna want you like that.”

She stared at the ceiling long after he passed out, tracing the cracks like she could fall through them if she stared hard enough. By morning, she found herself back at the market, standing too long near the fence by the loading dock.

And there he was again.

“You followin’ me now?” he asked, voice rough with sleep. Mae lifted her chin, forcing a smile she didn’t mean. “Maybe I just like bad decisions.”

He laughed at that—not the mean kind this time. The kind that sounded like he didn’t know what else to do with her.

“Elijah,” he said, sticking his hand out with mock formality. “Elijah Watkins.”

She hesitated, looking down at his calloused hand before reaching out, shaking it firmly. “Mae Mobley.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, like he already knew more than just her name.

After that, they kept running into each other. Some days, Mae would walk past the train tracks just slow enough to catch his attention. Other days, Elijah would show up behind the gas station while she filled her daddy’s truck with two gallons of fuel she barely had money for.

It was always quick, always sharp.

“You followin’ me again?” she’d say, chin up like she wasn’t hoping for it.

“Could say the same,” he’d toss back, leaning against whatever surface was closest like his whole body was made of slow-moving electricity.

Sometimes they fought.

One afternoon behind the schoolhouse, Mae sat on a low stone wall picking at a scab on her knee. Elijah kicked at the dirt, tossing pebbles at her feet like a bored kid.

“You ever get tired of pretendin’ you’re better than this?” he asked.

“Better than what?”

“This.” He gestured at the space between them. “Sneakin’ around like you ain’t the one who started it.”

“Started what?”

“You know damn well.”

Mae stood up so fast the world tilted. “I ain’t start nothin’. You the one that came up to me at the market.”

“And you came back.”

They stared at each other, neither willing to blink first. Then she laughed—short and ugly. “God, you’re insufferable.” “Yeah? So why you keep showin’ up?” Elijah smirked.

Mae didn’t have an answer for that.

By late August, the air got heavier. Not just from the heat—but from eyes.

Mrs. Calloway from church started watching her too long after Sunday service. The neighbor boy, Johnny, started following her halfway down the road before turning back with a red face and guilty hands stuffed in his pockets. Even Lila—usually too wrapped up in gossip to care—started giving her sideways looks.

“Mae, you alright?” Lila asked one afternoon while they shelled peas on the porch. “You been… different.”

“Different how?” Mae said too fast.

“Just… I dunno. You goin’ places alone. Talkin’ to yourself. Like… full on conversations.”

Mae’s hands froze mid-shell. “I ain’t.”

Lila shrugged. “Alright. Just… folks are talkin’, that’s all.”

Mae stood up, muttering something about chores, and disappeared inside before her stomach could twist worse. That night, she found Elijah at the river’s edge, skipping rocks like he had nothing but time.

“You been runnin’ off more than usual,” he said, without looking at her.

“You ever think maybe I don’t like bein’ followed?”

“You keep comin’ back though.”

“Maybe I’m just bored.”

He snorted at that. “You’re a bad liar, Mae Mobley.”

Something in her chest twisted.

“I hate this town,” she said finally, kicking at the dirt near the water. “Hate the way everybody looks at me like I’m some—some broken thing waitin’ to be pitied or married off or both.”

Elijah stopped throwing rocks. “You ain’t broken.”

She laughed, sharp and humorless. “Yeah? You don’t know me.”

“I know enough.”

Mae crouched next to him, knees digging into the soft ground. “You don’t know what it’s like in that house. What he’s like when he’s drunk. What he says to me. What he does.”

Elijah’s mouth tightened. “Then leave.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Where would I go? Who’d have me?” Her voice cracked, and she hated that he heard it.

Elijah reached out, thumb brushing a stray tear off her cheek like it wasn’t nothin’. And God help her, she let him.

“You’re real stupid,” she whispered against his neck.

“Right back at you.”

They stayed like that until the sun disappeared and the air turned cool and thick with night.

The next couple weeks blurred. Mae ducked out of the house more and more, even when it meant coming back to slammed doors and curses thrown like fists.

At school, she stopped answering when her friends called her name. At church, she sat stiff as stone, staring at the hymn book but never turning the pages.

Her daddy started asking questions too.

“You seein’ somebody?” he asked one night over dinner, eyes narrow, voice low.

Mae choked on her cornbread, shaking her head. “Ain’t nobody.”

“Mm.” He didn’t believe her. Not for a second.

That night, she heard him loading shells into his shotgun.

One afternoon, Mae met Elijah behind the Miller place.

“You ever think about runnin’?” she asked him, breath short from sneaking out.

“All the time.”

“Where would you go?”

He smiled at her like she was the dumbest thing he’d ever seen. “Ain’t about where. Just about goin’.”

She bit her lip. “If I left… would you come with me?”

He studied her then, long and slow. “You serious?”

Mae swallowed hard. “I think I am.”

Elijah’s face softened just a little. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Yeah. You love it though.”

The night she kissed him again—full, desperate, messy—she felt like she could finally breathe for the first time in years.

The air felt wrong the night it all cracked open.

Mae slipped out barefoot like always, breath catching with every step toward the woods. The air hung thick, the moon too bright, too still.

Elijah stood by the tree line, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders tight like he felt it too.

“They know,” he said before she could speak.

Her chest tightened. “Who?”

“Everyone.”

Somewhere in the distance, she heard engines start. Voices shouting. The low thrum of men gathering.

Her stomach twisted hard, and she grabbed his arm. “We gotta go.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere—just—just run.”

But Elijah didn’t move. His face flickered, something unreadable crossing it like shadow and light both fighting for space.

“Mae…” he started, voice different now. Softer. Almost sad. “You need to wake up.”

Her mouth went dry. “What?”

He touched her face, palm warm against her skin. “Ain’t no runnin’ from this.”

Then—just like that—he was gone.

Not walked away. Not faded.

Gone.

Like he’d never been there.

Mae stood frozen, the air thick and hollow, her heart pounding so hard she thought it’d split her chest.

Behind her, she heard voices. Real ones. Her father. Mr. Langley. The Parker boys. Lila. All of them.

“Where is he, Mae?” her father screamed, drunk rage thick in his throat. “You been runnin’ round talkin’ to yourself like a damn fool—where is he?!”

Mr. Langley stepped forward, eyes wide with something close to fear. “She’s been down at the river for weeks now. Sittin’ there talkin’ to the air. Ain’t nobody with her.”

“I swear I seen her laughin’ at nothin’,” one of the boys said, voice shaking.

Lila covered her mouth, already crying.

Mae backed away, stumbling over roots, breath coming too fast, mind spinning.

“No,” she whispered. “No, y’all lyin’—he was—he—”

But when she looked back at the tree line, there was nothing.

No footprints. No cigarettes left half-burnt. No worn jacket hung over the fence post.

Just dirt.

Just air.

Just Mae.

Alone.

Like she’d always been.

Her knees buckled, and she dropped to the ground, fists digging into the cold earth like she could pull him back if she just clawed deep enough.

“Where is he, Mae?” her father’s voice cracked through the air, thick and furious.

And that’s when it started unraveling.

In her head, Elijah had stood beside her that day at the market, tossing insults like coins, laughing in the sun. But now—now she remembered Mr. Langley’s eyes following her as she argued with no one, shouting at bruised peaches and empty space.

That afternoon behind the schoolhouse, she thought she’d cursed Elijah out, thrown rocks at his feet. But it was just her, screaming at dirt, throwing stones at nothing while Johnny Parker slowed his bike to stare, then sped off, eyes wide with something close to fear.

She remembered sitting by the riverbank, knees pulled to her chest, whispering secrets she thought she’d told Elijah—only now she saw it for what it was. Her, talking to herself, laughing too loud, crying too hard, with Lila and the Calloway sisters watching from the path, murmuring to each other, walking faster.

The kiss—God, the kiss.

Mae’s breath hitched as her mind twisted on itself. There hadn’t been lips against hers behind the Miller place. No warm hands pulling her close. Just her—back pressed up against the barn wall, kissing air, clutching at herself like a lunatic. The neighbor’s dog barking in the distance, tail tucked, too scared to come near.

At church…

She could see it now. The preacher mid-sermon, pausing as Mae sat stiff in the pew, mouthing words to someone who wasn’t there. Lila tugging at her sleeve afterward, voice shaking. “Mae, you alright?”

And that night by the river, when she said she wanted to run away… she hadn’t been speaking to anyone at all. Just standing knee-deep in muddy water, talking to fog, her voice carrying across the field where two boys fishing had packed up and run home, saying Mae Mobley was cursed.

Her head spun, nausea crawling up her throat.

The last thing she remembered—the mob behind her, torches shaking in their hands, fear turning to confusion, then horror, as they all realized together:

Mae had been screaming for a ghost.

Her father’s grip tightened around her wrist, dragging her backward toward the truck, toward home, toward more locked doors and darker nights.

Mae’s fingernails scraped at the dirt, one last cry breaking from her throat.

“Elijah!”

But the woods stayed empty.

The night swallowed her whole.

Fin

[farfromstrange]

I made it back from my little comic con getaway! I’m semi-alive.

I come bearing pics (though not as many as I would’ve liked). So, I’ll put them under the cut for those of you who want to see them. Anyone else, feel free to keep scrolling. This is just me rambling. And showing off my cosplay and Daredevil merch I bought. With a lot of text. Sorry.

I didn’t have the time to take a pic of my Day One Matt Cosplay, but I do have pics from the test run I did a couple of days back.

(I didn’t have the time to put on the fake blood on Saturday, but that was kind of how I wanted it to look when I first tried it on, minus the added blood on the nose, that was just a stupid attempt at making it look more… gore-y? I think. I don’t know. My brain is tired and I’m just typing this on my phone and I don’t have the brain cells to form a coherent thought.)

Anyway, the first two is a (kind of) look at how I looked at the con on Saturday. It was a very slutty version of lawyer!Matt and the Season 1 promo poster. I tried. Also, I have no idea how to take proper pictures of myself. I apologize 😭

NOW moving on to my look on Day Two (today). That was a lot easier because I already had the sweater, and there was no way I wouldn’t pull up in the iconic “I’m Not Daredevil” Comic!Matt look. It was the obvious choice.

(Excuse the crusty-ass hotel selfie quality.)

I really enjoyed dressing up, and I think I might invest even more time and money for next year and go all out. As much as I can, anyway.

It was fun, but it was definitely different than last year. A lot less crowded, too. I still think it was amazing and I’ve loved seeing everyone dress up as their favorite characters and just feel welcome because everyone was there for the same reason. That’s why I love these conventions so much. It really is a judgement free zone.

And there is always a lot of shopping, which I did. I secured a lot of goods, and of course, I am going to share them with you now.

I got this amazing Elektra Funko.

AND THIS?!?! I FUCKING LOVE IT!!

And the girl selling this was so excited someone finally bought one of her Matt prints, we both geeked out. I still can’t believe I found this.

And then I got these pins…

AND THIS AMAZING GINORMOUS SWEATER/HOODIE/BLANKET

And a Barbie poster (It says “Hi Barbie” but I was too lazy to unroll it completely)

Overall, I think I found some amazing stuff! I just had to share it with you.

Can’t wait for spring next year, honestly.

[donnerpartyofone]

It's the overshare hour on this bright and breezy Tuesday morning

and I'm just thinking about how some of my main skills--making finely detailed drawings and writing really small to the point that it's an aesthetic device unto itself--developed because of my crippling childhood fear of having anyone notice me in any way. So starting in kindergarten I learned to write with a pencil that was totally worn down to the nub because I couldn't stand to raise my hand, or get up to use the pencil sharpener, because if I did that then people might look at me. And then if I broke a pencil, I would collect the microscopic splintered tip and write with that, and I wound up with this ziplock bag full of little pencil tips that I could cycle through to avoid calling attention to myself (I think a certain teacher took this away from me at some point because it seemed kind of unsanitary). And then for the same reason I wouldn't go to the bathroom like a normal kid, and I was routinely holding it until I had to piss my pants, which somehow seemed preferable to raising my hand in class and standing up to do something, and throughout my childhood it seemed like I basically had one long continuous UTI because of this behavior. Recently I learned something about how neurodivergent people often have this faulty bodily signaling going on such that, for instance, they might not realize they have to go to the bathroom until it's like a total crisis, and I think there must have been some of that going on too, which would also account for certain alarming masochistic behaviors that I don't feel like listing right now. But that's sort of the point I'm coming to, that it seems really obvious that there was something wrong with me from the jump, and that it wasn't just about being shy or lazy or stubborn or whatever other convenient thing I was accused of. And then to this day I have to have these arguments with people based on the premise that my only real problem is my bad attitude and low self-esteem, and I can't possibly have anything that might count as a disability because I'm so "smart" or perhaps high functioning, is a term we might use if we were to admit that I'm functioning highly relative to having certain problems. I can't even talk about this stuff to friends who are more stereotypically autistic or whatever, because I don't have the outward problems they do as an adult. And at times I just want to shout into a megaphone, right into people's faces, Guys I am pretty fucked actually, maybe I don't know the proper medical term for it, and it may not seem obvious to you, but if I could show you a videotape of my life we would not disagree about my fuckedness.

The End, time to get dressed, get on my bike, and run a couple of errands around town like an apparently normal person before I get ready for work.

[tanketorskk]

Bro could we PLEASE get some non-piss Igor and/or Gilderoy?

I would like to state for the record that I never mentioned the piss again,,,, blame other anon not me

I’ve got another yap on Gilderoy in my drafts so I’ll save the individual stuff and feed the shippers lol

I do 100% believe Gilderoy would have a spray bottle to spray Igor with when he’s being too much

Igor is a very handy person and for the most part Gilderoy enjoys that

Muggle au Gilderoy had a very fancy, expensive car and while he’d let Igor fix it I doubt he’d let him drive it, at least not more than necessary

Igor finally getting to drive the car and he does that arm around the passenger seat while reserving thing 🤤

I feel like Gilderoy would enjoy playing dress up with Igor,,, like finding nicer outfits for him, getting him to use proper shampoo and conditioner rather than his 8-in-one lmao

Following that if they ever get to the point of being somewhat domestic (this is a very loose term, I’m thinking Igor staying over for more than five minutes after they fuck) I could see them enjoying long showers together. The shower in Igor’s apartment is broken half the time so he’s just in there soaking like a wet dog lmao

Lazy sofa cuddles,,, Gilderoy is reading a magazine and Igor is watching some stupid shit on the tv

I could see Gilderoy convincing Igor to pierce one of his ears idk why fjfnjcnf

Igor uses nicknames for Gilderoy most of the time cause I think he’d stumble slightly over having to pronounce Gilderoy but also he’s just a nickname person

Alright I think that’s all I can come up with for now cnncjcnf hopefully that’s more enjoyable than the “kink” that shall not be named lmao