#i’m too aware of it in my mouth i can barely sleep with it in

[ktsumu]

i actually hate a retainer. were the braces not enough

[rafesangelita]

cockwarming stebro!rafe but he can’t take it anymore and ends up pounding you from behind💗

warnings: stepcest, cockwarming, unprotected sex

rafe’s days of feeling guilty for wanting to fuck his bratty little step sister was long gone the second you stepped into his room wearing the skimpiest night gown he’d ever seen. “why are you still awake?” rafe got up, poking his head out the door to see if anyone might’ve seen you before locking it behind him. “can’t sleep..” you trailed off, doe eyes glancing up at him through your lashes. he studied you for a moment. “and what am i supposed to do about that?” he crossed his arms over his chest, the sight of his muscles making you swallow nervously. “can i sleep with you?” you leaned back, fully aware that your step brother could see your nipples through the sheerness of your top.

rafe glanced down, all his blood rushing to his cock. as if he needed another reason to let you be in the same bed as him, he watched as you crawled under the sheets, giving him a full view of your bare ass. he knew you knew what you were doing, but where’s the fun in not playing along? see just how far you’re willing to take it. “that’s some night gown you got on there.” he walked around to his side of the bed, turning the lamp off before getting under the covers. you smiled to yourself, your fingers fiddling with the small bow that was stitched at the hem. “yeah? you like it?” you turned your back to him, biting your lip as you felt the warmth of his body against your skin.

“yeah, it’s real pretty..” he pulled you against him, a gasp leaving your lips when you felt his erection resting on the curve of your ass. “you feel what you do to me?” he ran a hand down your side, lifting your thigh as he took himself out of his boxers. “rafe,” you whispered breathlessly. “don’t act coy. what else could you want when you walk in here with no panties on, huh?” he teased, “i’m gonna give you what you’re asking for.” you whimpered when you felt the head of his cock run across your clit. “please, ‘want you inside me so bad.” rafe shushed you as he entered you slowly, a groan falling from his lips as your hand found solace on his.

“don’t think i forgot about you mouthing off to me earlier today in front of my friends.” he used his other hand to wrap around your throat. “i don’t like bratty little bitches, you know that? i should punish you for that shit.” his words had you squeezing around him, desperate for any kind of friction you could get. “so do it.” he laughed bitterly, nodding his head before whispering in your ear. “that mouth is gonna get you in a lot of trouble.” rafe turned you over, the lack of movement making you groan in frustration . “i see the way you look at me, rafe. you’re punishing yourself too.” he hated that you were right. it was taking everything in him not to fuck you with your ass in the air.

you kept moving your hips, suddenly stopping when you felt his hand snake under your tummy, his fingers rubbing your clit. he stayed still as you clenched around him, the wet sound of your slick filling the empty air in his room. “please move.” you cried into his pillow. rafe looked down, regretting it almost immediately when he saw how desperate you looked back at him. “are you gonna learn something from this?” his restraint was dwindling down with every nod of your head. “yes! i promise i’ll be good from now on, ‘just want to be fucked rafe.” he cursed, holding onto you from the curve of your waist as he started thrusting into you.

the pressure in your stomach was building fast and it was becoming harder to stay quiet with each stroke of his cock against your velvety walls. with your hips meeting his, and the pretty little sounds coming from your mouth, rafe’s head rolled back as he struggled to keep his eyes open. rafe’s digits moved faster over your clit, his hand pushing your head into the sheets as you came with a cry of his name. he watched you tremble and shake, his thrusts turning sloppy as he pulled out, painting your cunt with his seed. “shit,” he groaned, still gripping his base as he continued to tease your entrance. “why didn’t you finish inside me?” you pouted. “we’ll save that for next time.”

[rafesweetie]

just imagining you being kidnapped by singh instead of kie, and reuniting with your ex boyfriend, rafe. it starts out a bit hostile when he turns around and see’s you in a red dress. instantly walking over to you and saying “the fuck are you doing, huh? butting in on my deal like this? we’re not together anymore, you can’t do this—“ when you two sit down, it’s tense and neither of you are looking at each other.

mr. singh speaks for a little, apologizing for the rough tactics in bringing you here. rafe is instantly chiming in, because he needs to know what singh did to you. “what tactics, huh?” he asks, and singh just tells rafe to calm down. that’s when you look up at rafe and mouth an, “it’s okay.”

singh killing jimmy portis forces you and rafe to reconcile. you walk right up to rafe to watch through the window, like singh told you to, and are barely even aware that you’ve been holding onto his bicep in fear the entire time you watched. that’s when he knew you were scared.

he sits you down on the shared bed, looking at your pouty and nervous face. “hey, don’t bullshit me, alright? do you know where the fuck this diary is?” he asks, ice cold eyes looking panicked for once. “no lies, or else me ‘n you are dead.” he adds because he needs to put this in perspective for you. you nod gently, although you know if it was anyone else, they’d be saying no and lying.

but of course, too nervous to tell mr. singh (as anyone else would be as well), you wait for a night. you offer to sleep on the floor of your shared bedroom, saying that maybe it’ll be awkward if you two share after months apart. he rolls his eyes and tugs you beside him. you don’t fall asleep cuddling, both too nervous about this situation to initiate anything. but somehow you wake up tangled in each others arms.

flash forward to when you two have escaped. he’s bringing you to his boat, the one he took here to make the deal. when you say that it’s okay, that you should just be looking for your friends, he’s physically tugging you onto the boat with a strangled, “no, you’re not looking for your fucking friends. i’m not letting you get killed, okay? shit, kid, after all these months, thought you’d be smart enough to—“ you cut him off with an “okay, i get it!”

but the minute you’re on the boat and he’s untying the knot, you’re murmuring an, “i’m super sorry rafey,” and kissing his cheek before shoving him into the water. he can find another way home, no way you’re going back to the OBX without the pogues — it wouldn’t be the same.

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hi Molly<3

How about captain Syverson and

“be still” - “i can’t” - “yes you can, do you want to find out what will happen if you don’t?”

morning cuddling with the love of your life

pairing: boyfriend!captain syverson x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, morning sex, fingering (f receiving), finger sucking, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, pet names (bunny), morning cuddles, established relationship taken to the next couple levels 👀

word count: 1,800ish

a/n: ahhh thank you so much for sending in this prompt—and for requesting my second favorite captain!! this one is just pure smut with a very fluffy ending, i hope y'all enjoy!! ♡♡

The sunny spring morning began, as all your mornings had since you’d started dating Captain Syverson, with some sleepy cuddling. You’d only been dating a few months, and he hadn’t moved in yet, but Sy always seemed to end up in your bed—even the nights he worked late—and you enjoyed him being there. You loved falling asleep in his arms and waking up to his warm comfort too much to say anything about it.

That morning, the sun was shining through your bedroom windows and casting a yellow glow over everything. But it was chilly beyond your blankets, the spring day not having yet been warmed by the sun, and you were happy to stay in bed. You were still half-asleep when your fingers started searching for Sy’s broad, warm body, pulling yourself closer once you found him, humming happily when he wrapped his thick, beefy arms around you. 

You sighed contentedly with your face buried in his chest, your body settling into his comforting embrace as you breathed in the woodsy, familiar scent of his skin. The hair dusting across his burly chest tickled your cheeks pleasantly and you shifted closer, hitching your bare thigh over his hip. Because you wore only one of Sy’s t-shirts, your uncovered core pressed to the soft cotton of Sy’s boxers, and you felt his bulge twitch against your warmth.

A little shiver raced down your spine, but you were still too sleepy to do anything about the length hardening between your thighs. Besides, Sy didn’t seem inclined to take things further yet either, as he rumbled a deep snore.

The both of you dozed for a little while, until a deep, reverberating groan in Sy’s chest roused you again. It was only then that you discovered your hips were rocking gently against your boyfriend’s cock, stirring up a heat that crashed through your body as soon as you became aware. A soft gasp left your lips, and Sy groaned louder, knowing you were awake.

“Ya gotta stop, or ‘m not gonna be able to let ya sleep anymore, bunny,” Sy rumbled, his voice far too warm with sleepy pleasure to sound the least bit warning. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his beard tickling your skin, and you smiled into his chest, enjoying the heat curling deliciously through your body.

Stretching up, you reached blindly for Sy’s mouth, your eyes still closed and, after some fumbling, managed to kiss your boyfriend good morning. His arms squeezed you tightly as you kissed lazily, knowing you had all the time in the world to spend the morning in bed together.

“Maybe I’m done sleeping, daddy,” you murmured against his mouth when you broke the kiss. You rolled your body more purposefully, grinding your naked pussy against the bulge in Sy’s boxers and delighted in his grunt of pleasure. “Maybe I wanna feel you stuff that big cock of yours deep in my needy pussy.” 

Sy rumbled a chastising sound. “Christ, the mouth ya got on ya, bunny,” he muttered. Still, he slid his big hand down between your bodies, cupping your pussy possessively and thrusting two fingers inside to test your readiness. You were wet and slick for him, and he dragged a moan from your lips while he fucked you. His tone managed some menace as he growled, “Maybe I should shove my cock into that filthy mouth of yours and show you what dirty girls get for rilin’ up their daddies.” 

“Nooo, please,” you begged, pouting up at him and fluttering your lashes in the way that had Sy’s cock twitching against your thigh, his precum leaking onto your soft skin. “I’m already so wet for you, daddy, would you really deny me when my tight little hole is dripping and begging for you?” 

With a tortured groan, Sy rolled you onto your back, his hips settling between your thighs and pushing you open wide with his broad body. Pulling his fingers from your pussy, he slipped them into your mouth, and you eagerly sucked your own arousal from his skin. 

“Good girl,” he rumbled, the hint of a smile curving his mouth. 

While you were busy cleaning his fingers, Sy shoved his boxers down and lined up his cock with your entrance. He smacked your messy folds with the heavy head of his cock, watching as your eyes went heavy lidded and you moaned around his fingers. He removed them from your mouth and grinned when you let out a desperate whine. 

“Daddy, please,” you begged on a gasp, writhing beneath your boyfriend’s broad form.

Thankfully, Sy wasn’t interested in any more teasing and he pushed into your needy, aching hole. Your back arched up off the bed and you let out a sharp cry, enjoying the feeling of his thick cock stretching out your tight cunt. No matter how many times he fucked you, it always felt like Sy was pressing the air from your lungs and rearranging your insides to make room to accomodate his fat cock.

“Feel so fucking good, bunny,” Sy groaned when he was buried inside you, his balls pressing against your ass. For a long moment, he stayed there, his eyes closing like he was savoring the tight warmth of your body. “Christ, I could live in your cunt—ya feel like you were made for me.”

He was so big and hard and hot inside you that you couldn’t stop yourself from squirming, your knees climbing his sides so he could push even deeper into your cunt. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix and you moaned loudly, your inner walls gripping his hard length like your body wanted to suck him even deeper. You were practically folded in half beneath the beefy body of your boyfriend, but it wasn’t enough, you needed him to move, to fuck you—to empty his balls into you and fill you up with his seed.

“Be still.” The words were little more than an unintelligible growl from your Sy’s mouth. 

You whimpered, your hips rocking up against him, fucking yourself on his cock ever so slightly. Even if you wanted to stop, you didn’t think it was possible—not when you needed him so badly. “I can’t.” 

“Yes you can, do you want to find out what will happen if you don’t?” Sy’s hand gripped your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. “If you don’t stop, I’m not going to be able to hold back,” he warned, his face grim with barely leashed desire. “I’m gonna flood your unprotected pussy with my come and I’m gonna knock you up—is that what you want?”

Even if you’d wanted to lie and tell him it wasn’t at all what you wanted, your body answered Sy’s question for you, your cunt squeezing his cock even harder, like you were wordlessly begging him to put a baby in your belly. But you knew your boyfriend would never do anything if you didn’t say the words, so you forced your mind to focus through the pleasure and delirious need to get the words out. 

“I want it, daddy,” you admitted on a whimper, crying out when Sy pulled back, only to surge forward and make your whole body shake with the force of his thrust. With your confession out in the open between you, it seemed to loosen your tongue and a flood of words fell from your lips. “I want you to knock me up, I want you to put a baby in me—your baby, Sy—I want you to make me a mommy, please, daddy!” 

“Jesus christ, bunny,” Sy ground out as he pounded into you, his hips slapping against your thighs while he thrust deep into your cunt. “Ya want daddy to breed you—ya wanna be daddy’s good little breeding bunny, huh?” 

“Yes, yes yes,” you cried, gripping Sy’s broad shoulders, your cunt squeezing his cock. You were so close. “Breed me, daddy—Sy, please—please!” 

“Fuck,” he grunted, pausing to reposition his hips. Then he was grinding against your clit with every brutal thrust into your cunt and it wasn’t long before you screamed your release. Your whole body clenched tight, making Sy groan like he was in pain as your pussy gripped his cock so hard, his release quickly followed yours. 

Sy captured your lips in a messy kiss, his beard burning your cheeks and chin as hips stilled. You felt his cock twitch deep in your fluttering cunt, and the rush of his come overflowing your pussy, dripping down your ass. You shivered and moaned into Sy’s mouth, your hands clinging to his shoulders and neck while your bodies came together in the most primal way possible.

When you were finally sated and the last of his come had been wrung from his cock, Sy rolled over onto his back, taking you with him. Your bodies were still connected, the evidence of your releases making a mess of the both of you. You sighed contentedly and snuggled into Sy’s chest, a happy smile on your face.

“I s’pose I should officially move in, huh?” Sy asked, a bit of playfulness seeping into his deep, satisfied drawl. 

“You better,” you muttered, putting a little poutiness into the words, which made Sy chuckle. Pushing yourself up, you gave Sy a kiss before pulling away and shooting him a stern look. “Then you might wanna start thinking about putting a ring on my finger,” you said pointedly, arching one of your brows.

Sy grinned so wide, it made his beard twitch. Without looking away from you, he opened the bedside table drawer and pulled something out. You didn’t see what it was until you felt him slip something onto your left ring finger. With a gasp, you finally looked away to see the pretty engagement ring he’d just put on you.

“Way ahead o’ ya, bunny,” he murmured, tipping your chin to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “Assuming it’s a yes, of course.”

You snorted. “Of course, it’s a yes,” you said, a giggle of joy in your tone. Then you kissed him again—and again and again and again. 

Eventually, you settled back down on Sy’s chest, unable to keep your eyes off the ring, turning your hand this way and that so you could admire the way it sparkled so prettily in the bright morning sunshine. Already, you were picturing a spring wedding—Sy would look so handsome in a suit beneath an arch of spring flowers…

Your head spun a little with how much your life had changed on that spring morning, but you couldn’t be happier. You were going to become Mrs. Syverson and start a family with your captain—but the best part was that you’d get to start every morning cuddling with the love of your life. 

And you couldn’t wait.

[turcott3]

made for me

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings: cursing, kissing, oral f and m receiving, protected sex, pet names, fluff

masterlist

-

you giggled at the soft feeling of the bed after matt tossed you onto it, climbing over you, attaching your lips desperately but lovingly. you were both dressed and ready for bed but it seemed you were both far from ready to sleep.

you haven’t been with matt for more than 2 months and if you were honest, you were afraid to get physical with him due to his size. which always sounded stupid coming out, but matt is a giant, beautiful, brunette monster. you couldn’t even fathom the things he would do to you, but tonight things felt different. sex was in the air looming over the two of you. the way his soft lips tangled themselves with yours sent butterflies through your body. you admired the was the light chiseled his abdomen and the way his grey sweatpants made you nervous to have him pummeling deep inside you. you weren’t sure how much you could handle.

“baby.” he says picking his head up and locking eyes with you.

“hm?”

“can we?”

“matt im-“

“baby please, i just want to love you. i want to show you, in more than just words, how beautiful you are and i know you’re afraid but i promise i’ll be so careful. i’ll take such good care of you my love.”

“you promise?” you reply, the fear wasn’t coming from a place of unknown. you weren’t a virgin, you’d just never dated a 6 foot 7 beefy athlete before.

“i promise. i would never hurt you. if it’s too much tell me and i’ll stop okay? i want you to be comfortable.”

“okay.” you accept smiling lightly, watching your boy’s eyes light up made your heart jump in your chest. you knew he was romantic and truthfully you were beyond excited to explore further into your relationship, fears aside. you also, subconsciously, loved the way he was begging for you. the way he’d just begged to touch and love you made you crave him in ways you hadn’t before.

“my beautiful baby.” he smiles, attaching your lips in a kiss that you swore could’ve caused a spark that set the whole room on fire. he toyed with the seam of your large tshirt, allowing him to tug it off you carefully, hardly losing touch.

“to make this even, let’s lose these.” you giggle as you sat there in only your thong, tugging at the waistband of his dreadful sweatpants. he smirks at you before pulling them down, keeping eye contact with you. he stepped back out of his pants and looked you up and down. you become painfully aware of your bare chest and fight the urge to cover up.

“wow.” he scoffs.

“what?” you reply nervously.

“this was so worth waiting for, look at you. fucking gorgeous.” he smiles as your cheeks heat up.

“stop it matt.”

“what? i’m just stating the obvious.” he giggles, walking back over to you, kissing you with more passion than you’ve ever felt. his hand found its way into your hair, grabbing into it lightly,

“okay, what do you want to do?” he asks randomly.

“what do you mean?”

“like do you want to go a little further?”

“yes.” you simply say.

“lay back for me.” he says and you comply. delicately, he pulls your underwear down and your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden contact between your legs. his large hands wrapping around the outside of your thighs as his tongue pays close attention to your clit.

“oh fuck.” you say, your abdomen tightening as your hand tugs the brunettes hair. the way he paid such close attention to your pleasure. you were creeping close to the edge, you could feel yourself coming close to a climax.

“matt-“ you say and he backs off quickly, wiping his mouth with his arm.

“why’d you stop?” you frown.

“i don’t want you to get off on just that.” he giggles. you reach out and grab his face, bringing his lips back to yours.

“let me.” you say pushing him away. setting in the edge of the bed, yanking his boxers down. your eyes widened at the sight in front of you.

“holy shit.” you whisper to yourself before taking him into your hand, stroking him fully hard. you bring his tip to your lips as you push spit through your lips, circling the saliva with your tongue, striking him wet with your hand.

“jesus christ.” he groans looking down at the sight below him. he gathers your hair behind your head carefully, not pushing you. you lock eyes with him as you take him fully into your mouth, pushing your limits, holding your thumb to attempt to keep yourself from gagging. somehow, your lips almost touch the base of his cock. not once losing eye contact, your eyes well up with tears. fighting the urge to gag you remove him from your mouth, stroking him with your hand completely out of air.

“no more.” he says quietly, using two fingers to guide your chin back to his lips.

“but why?” you pout.

“because.” he giggles, making his point very clear as he drags his fingers through your soaking folds.

“promise you’ll go slow?”

“yes baby, i promise.” he smiles, grabbing a condom from his drawer.

“give me that.” you say. he hands you the condom and you carefully tear it open, rolling it onto his thick cock.

“lay back my love.” he says fluffing the pillows behind you before you lean back. he lines himself up with you, pushing in slowly. you gasped at the way he stretched you out, moaning out in pleasure. once he bottoms out, you can feel your stomach bulging.

“god matt you’re so big.” you gasp, running light fingers over the bulge which directed his attention to it.

“i’m all yours.” he smirks, using one hand to lift your head to meet his in the middle, connecting your lips sensually. slowly, he retracts his hips, thrusting back into you at the same speed. you couldn’t lie and say you were t enjoying the sensation of him being almost too big for you.

“are you okay?” he asks keeping his speed.

“yes baby, you can go faster.” you say, becoming anxious for him to speed up. carefully, he speeds up just enough for your moans to practically become cries.

“oh my god.” you say, your moans snapping up an octave.

“i love you.” he says lowly, his face inches away from yours.

“i love you too.” you choke out, your eyes fighting the urge to roll into the back of your head. he hit every single sensitive spot inside you, practically overwhelming all of your senses.

“matt.” you moan, your fingers scratching his back harshly.

“god fuck, say it again.” he grunts, picking up his pace.

“oh my fucking god, matt you feel so good,” you moan upon his request.

“i’m close.” you whisper just barely audible due to the loud sound of your skin slapping together.

“come for me baby. just let go.” he says, sucking at the skin in your neck as the line snaps in your stomach, releasing all of your tightened muscles, a galaxy forming in your eyes as he fucks you right through your orgasm. he slows down quickly, pulling out of you, still stroking his cock. hazily, you get into your knees and pull the condom off of him, quickly taking him back into your mouth. you sucked in your cheeks, paying close attention to his sensitive tip. you pull away, stroking him with pressure until you felt his cock twitch in your hand. you open your mouth immediately, allowing him to spill his salty climax into your tongue, locking eyes with him as you swallow every last drop of it. with daze in your eyes, you lay back down not worrying about your clothes.

“you okay baby?” he giggles, taking his place next to you, running a finger lightly down your arm.

“that was fucking incredible, you’re incredible.” you say rolling over to face him. he smiles at your words, bringing you in for a kiss before pulling you to his chest. the warmth of his bare skin, lulling you to a sleepy state.

“can we go to sleep now? you wore me out.” you ask, cuddled to his side.

“of course y/n.” he says pressing a kiss to your temple.

“i hope i dream about you.” you mumble closing your eyes.

“me too.” he giggles as your breathing slows.

“my beautiful beautiful baby. i love you so much.” he whispers into your hair, your heart fluttering, falling asleep very quickly after.

-

[revasserium]

Could you write something with 34. insomina: owner’s instructions for zoro? I’d love to see what you come up with <3

prompt list reqs are: temporarily closed

34. insomnia: owner's instructions

opla!zoro; 1,818 words; teeth-rotting fluff, truly mind-numbing amounts of fluff, strawhat!reader, gn!reader, simp!zoro, emotionally constipated!zoro, naps are the superior pass-time

summary: to nap, or not to nap, that is the question

a/n: or, the one bed trope, lampshaded with a hammock instead.

one.

The door opens.

“You’re in my space.”

“Last I checked, this wasn’t yours.”

“Who do you think set up the hammock?”

Zoro opens one eye and gives you a sidelong look.

“Hn. Thought it came with the ship.”

You narrow your own eyes, folding your arms.

“I’m gonna count to five —”

“Congrats, didn’t know you could count that high.”

You grab the nearest thing, which just so happens to be a fishing hook, and hurl it at him. Zoro parries it with the hilt of a sword, sighing as he turns to fix you with a hard look again.

“You wanna nap here? Then nap here.” He turns away, closing his eyes again.

You stare at him for a solid three seconds.

“So — not gonna move?” You frown.

“Never said I was.” He doesn’t so much as open his eyes.

You stare for three more seconds before the implication crashes over you like a wave. You go nearly apoplectic with indignation and embarrassment, heat cresting up the back of your neck at the image of the pair of you — together — on that tiny little —

“Whatever,” you mutter, shaking your head as you tug open the door and slip through it, letting it click closed behind you.

two.

“Hn.”

You smirk, the vague contempt emanating from the body by the door tells you who it is before you even open your eyes.

“Don’t like what you see? Look away,” you parrot his words back at him, cocking your head as you shift left and right, making a show of swinging in the hammock, stretching your arms above your head.

“Tch.”

You’re just about to turn back around and resume your nap, content that you’d driven him away just like he did you but then — your world spins as a pair of arms hoist you into the air, and the next second, you’re being slung onto someone’s shoulders.

“Z-Zoro?!”

He grunts, and the room spins again, but this time, as it rights itself, you find yourself somehow still in the hammock, though now pressed against a body — all solidness and smooth skin stretched over corded muscle. You blink, startled, down at Zoro, who stares up at you, a daring smirk perched over his lips.

“There. Now we can both nap.”

You stare, utterly bewildered at this strange turn. But when you try to pull away, his arm bands tighter around your waist. Your fingers dig into his chest; he barely moves, only shifting slightly to better accommodate the shape of you lying next to him, nearly on top of him —

“I — I don’t think —”

“Thought you were tired.”

“Well — not after —”

“Whatever. I’m tired.”

“Y-you’re —”

“You’ve been in my nap spot for the last few days.”

You bite your lips, staring down at his too-close face. A shaft of errant sunlight falls through the small window near the top of the room, landing in a thick strip across his face, bisecting it over his left eye.

As if feeling your gaze of him, he peaks open that eye to stare back up at you, and in this indulgence of light, the black of his iris looks trapped in amber.

“You… you can’t sleep anywhere else on the ship?” you ask, your mouth suddenly very, very dry. His skin smells of sea-salt and steel.

“Tried. Not as comfy.”

He blinks, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips as his eyes flicker down to your mouth, lingering there for a beat before it trails back up your face. You swallow, suddenly very much aware of all the different places your bodies are touching — chest to chest, your leg slung over his, his arm still wrapped around your back, palm pressed to the bend of your waist.

“F-fine… I’ll just g —”

“Mn.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes as he tugs you back again, easily pinning you to his side, “quit squirming.”

“I’m not squirming — I’m trying to leave so you can —”

“I said quit it.” His arm tightens again, flattening you against him. Like this, you can feel every solid ripple of his stomach as he breathes, each steady beat of his heart pressed to your cheek. You hold yourself like this for a few more seconds, coiled and tense, before slowly — you force yourself to relax.

“You… you really want to nap like this?”

Zoro sighs, his grip on you loosening ever so slightly.

“If you’re gonna keep on asking stupid questions…” his voice is already gravely with sleep, like woodsmoke, or the edges of a serrated blade.

You let out a long breath as well, resigning yourself to the strangeness of it all, but unable to stop a tiny smile from forming along your lips as you settle into the crook of Zoro’s arm.

three.

Sleep comes easily, almost too easily. And even though some say that it takes twenty-one days to form a habit, Zoro wonders if some other habits are easier to form. If some might feel instantaneous because it isn’t so much a habit as it is a resolution — he wonders what it means for it to be so easy to fall asleep next to you, what it means for someone like him to be so willing to give up consciousness in your presence.

He’s gotten so used to sleeping with one metaphorical eye open that when he does finally fall asleep, it seems the most natural thing in the world — a reverting back, a coming home.

The sun is setting — he can tell from the dim, orange light seeping in through the tiny high window, casting the entire room in stark shadows, long and languid as a lover’s limbs.

You are soft and pliant next to him, your skin the scent of milk and cotton, the ocean breeze still caught in your hair. Your breathing is steady, and he knows you’re still asleep — briefly, he wonders at the landscapes of your dreams, if they might just mirror his. If they might be about something like this — about the sea as it laps at the hull of the Going Merry. About the muffled laughter of the crew — his crew, their crew — of the clank and clatter of Sanji’s pans as he prepares dinner down the hall, of the dull creak of the main sail as Nami shifts the tillers.

“Good dreams…?”

Zoro almost jumps at the sound of your voice, thick with honey, your cheek shifting against his chest as you curl deeper into his side.

“Don’t remember,” he lies easily, because he has no plans on telling you about his dreams, about how they’d looked somehow exactly like this — like waking up with a warm, solid body next to his. And perhaps, of waking up next to you.

“Liar,” you say, just as easily, grinning as you lift your head to pillow your chin on his shoulder. And when you’re this close, you don’t see someone move, so much as feel the compression of air between your bodies.

Zoro scoffs, shifting his arm up so his fingers trail up the small of your back. You let out a soft sigh of contentment.

“You’re right, this really is the best nap spot.”

You lay your head back down on his chest; when he glances down, he can see the flutter of your lashes in the burgeoning dark. He doesn’t know if your eyes are closed, but he finds that he doesn’t care much about that now as he reaches down to trace absent patterns into the skin of your back.

“Hn. Didn’t know that was up for debate.”

You laugh, the sound trickling of his skin like water.

“It wasn’t, I was just… validating your opinion, I guess.”

Zoro grunts a vague sort of concession as you make to pull away, sitting up to stretch your arms, yawning hugely. And in the rapidly fading light, the way your hair clings to your bare shoulders seems like an odd kind of poetry. And Zoro’s never ever been the poetic sort, but he finds himself held captive by the sight regardless.

Mindlessly, he reaches up to tug a few strands of hair free, letting them fall through his fingers.

Once, he’d lain awake in the dark and wondered what courage the lack of light had always seemed to give to cowardly men.

Now, he doesn’t question it.

Now, he only finds himself leaning up to kiss you, propelled by some unknown force — perhaps the same force that had possessed him to take a nap with you in the first place.

His fingers are still tangled in your hair when your lips meet.

You make a surprised half-squeak that Zoro finds he’s rather fond of and immediately resolves to hear it again. And again. His free hand presses you back into his chest, where he’d been noticing a distinct lack in the space where you’d been. You melt into him almost immediately, and he lays back, content with the task of exploring your lips, the column of your neck, the wonderous dip between your collarbones.

“Is this…” you gasp, your fingers threading through his hair as he slowly trails his lips back up your neck, letting his teeth skim over the delicate skin of your shoulder, “what you dreamt about?”

“Dunno. Might be.”

He lets out a satisfied hum as you pull him back up for another long, lazy kiss.

“Might still be dreaming,” he murmurs against your lips, reveling in the soft vibrations of your laughter. This, too, he thinks — is a sound he wouldn’t mind hearing again, of tasting again.

“Didn’t know you could be so cheesy,” you say, cocking your head as Zoro scoffs.

“Don’t mistake me for the cook — I’m just still —” he cuts off, searching for something to say that isn’t stomach-twistingly embarrassing.

“Still… sleepy?” you offer, grinning a Cheshire grin.

Zoro narrows his eyes, pushing himself away from you, flipping out of the hammock in one fluid movement, his swords clanking at his hip.

“C’mon, sounds like dinner’s almost ready.” He waits by the door, a hand already resting on the hilt of his swords.

“Hm… and here I thought you might’ve wanted to sleep some more.”

Zoro glances over his shoulder, fixing you with a dark, piercing look.

“Food first.”

You smile, slipping out of the hammock, “Sleep… after?”

Zoro nods, seemingly satisfied with this sequence of events as he opens the door and waits for you to step through. Neither of you question where each of you might be sleeping that night. It is, after all, now a foregone conclusion.

“Sleep after.”

[xoxochb]

I desperately need a blurb of sweet girl having a sleepy moment of weakness and being sweet and gentle with percy, and like i’m torn between percy teasing her for it or silently basking in it since its a once in a lifetime opportunity for sweet girl to be this docile- mars

those rare moments when ‘sweet girl’ isn’t a contradicting pet name LOL

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

your half-lidded eyes blink repeatedly to remain open. your finger idly traces just barely, delicately, over percy’s features.

you reach out to touch his pretty green eyes but much to your dismay they close the moment your finger is deemed too close. you frown and whine in your sleepy state. you pull your finger away and his eyes open back up, hooray! a faint smile graces your feature.

you trail your finger downwards with a bite of your bottom lip. you hum as your index reaches percy’s own lips, taking your middle and ring and tracking them over the expanse of his mouth.

his teeth reach out to nip at your fingertips before taking your wrist and placing a delicate kiss to each of them before your palm and your wrist and the back of your hand.

you giggle faintly, releasing your arm from percy’s hold and using it to drape lazily around his shoulders, tugging him almost forcefully (or with as much force as someone edging on sleep can), flush into you.

you splay your hands on his back, nuzzling your face into his hair atop his head. “I love you.”

percy mirrors your position, sprawling his own hands on your waist though, head tucked tightly beneath your chin. he places a peck to the hollow of your throat. “I love you too, sweet girl.”

you kiss the top of his head with much tenderness before placing your hand on his cheek and forcing him to look up at you.

but you don’t necessarily need to ask him twice, the moment his head perks up his eyes bore into yours. you trace the pad of your thumb just below his eye, not touching so his eyelids won’t cover the deepest portions of the sea, but enough so you can keep them open to admire.

“my favorite color,” you murmur, practically almost inaudible. “green.”

his lips turn into a gentle smile. you tuck his head back into your chest and slide downwards in a more comfortable position to sleep. your arms return to their prior spot.

it’s not often that you take on such delicacy as now. on most occasions percy is sure you make it your life goal to have him bullied by you 24/7. but in moments like this, when you fell into a unbearably sleepy state you were oh-so benign with him.

and as much as he wishes to taunt and tease you for this, there was no denying that he enjoyed it— and if there was a word to most strongly describe enjoyment that is how he feels.

while he is aware you love him regardless if you’re scolding him, hitting him, yelling at him, crying, engaging in hours of love-making— when you are serene like this is when you most show it through your diligent actions, treating him like porcelain.

with one hand, percy reaches upwards and places his palm over your heart, feeling the calming beats. he removes his hand before placing his lips over it twice.

“hm. my sweet girl.”

[concretejunglefm]

I'm just gonna jump in here with this idea, because I think you're perfect for it, and the I'm gonna leave like I said nothing... phone sex with Noah. That's it, bye🤸🏼‍♀️

I offer no apologies for this.

CW: mentions of guided masturbation, voice kink, dirty talk, Noah talking you through it, Noah whimpering, moaning and begging.

Names: baby, sweetheart, little slut

Smut below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

“Are you really touching yourself right now?”

“What can I say? You have a hot voice."

“I’ve always suspected you had a voice kink.” You hear Noah’s soft chuckle, and the corners of your mouth only curl up into a wider smirk.

“For your voice? Yes.” It’s as though you were eagerly anticipating his response, your fingers gently caressing and pinching your nipples hard enough to produce a faint moan.

“Let me guess what you’re wearing. One of my shirts?” His question elicits a gentle hum of acknowledgment, while your fingers persistently explore beneath his shirt, cupping your breasts and squeezing, emulating the actions he would always perform.

“Panties or no panties?” you ask, your breath growing heavier as the ache between your thighs intensifies.

In response, Noah’s own cock grows harder at the mere thought of you touching yourself in any way, especially for him. Reaching his hand down, he presses against the front of his shorts, palming himself through the fabric to alleviate some of the tension.

“Mm, I’m going to say ‘no’…” he pauses, noticing the slight hitch in your breath. “Yes, you’re wearing panties.”

As he’s right, you gasp, your face flushing red. “How did you know?”

Noah chuckles once more, but it’s so smooth and incredibly arousing that you feel it making your clit throb before you even have the chance to touch yourself there. “Because I know you and I know that you always wear them when you decide to hump my pillow.”

You let out a groan of frustration, not just because you’re already feeling quite worked up, but also because he’s right. You’re never as subtle as you think you are. You mostly convince yourself that by keeping your panties on when he’s not around, he’ll never know, but of course, he does. He always knows.

“Noah,” you practically whine, and you hear his menacing voice mocking you as he repeats his name back to you. “What is it, baby?”

“I need…” you let out a sigh as your hand slides down your stomach, passing the waistband of your panties. You’re already aware of how wet you are before you touch yourself, and the moment you do, you gasp, barely catching the soft, clicking sound of his tongue.

“You need what, baby? Remember to use your words.” Noah reminds you, and your eyes roll back. At the same time, your fingers finally find your clit, slowly circling and teasing yourself.

“I need you,” you finally let slip, and a soft whine escapes your lips. Noah responds with a gentle murmur of the same sentiment.

His hand presses harder on his bulge, feeling himself through the fabric of his shorts and his breathing quickens, almost matching yours.

“Well, there's no way I'm going to be able to sleep like this now. I'm way too turned on. Baby, I think we should help each other. Don’t you agree?"

You nod frantically, as if he can see you, completely disregarding the fact that he can’t but the moan you slip out tells him everything he needs to know.

“Yeah? Let me guess what you're doing right now. Are you rubbing that needy little clit of yours?” You hum as another moan slips out, and Noah smirks, the sound of it evident in his voice. “Of course you are, because you're a good girl who wants to touch herself while she listens to me.”

The words make your eyes roll back into your head, your fingers rubbing faster on your clit as a whine rises up your throat, merging with a whimper and a soft murmur of his name.

“Are you squirming, sweetheart?” Noah teases. You almost wish you could climb on him and sit on his face just to silence him right now, completely aware that would be his intention, coaxing you into shutting him up in one of his preferred ways.

“You’re such a little slut for me, aren’t you?” Noah asks, his hand lazily stroking his cock as you let out a breathless ‘yes’, your head already feeling dizzy from the arousal. Your fingers have barely even touched yourself, constantly teasing your clit, feeling the wetness pooling.

“I bet you're just getting wetter and wetter with me whispering in your ear, aren't you? Why don't you tell me how wet you are, baby? Slip your fingers into your sweet pussy for me.”

You follow his instructions, your fingers slipping down and teasing your entrance, feeling the wetness already there before you plunge your middle finger into you with a body trembling moan. Noah responds with a moan of his own, and you know he can just imagine the way you feel, especially when you tighten around your own finger. You’re slow and meticulous as you begin to drag your finger along your walls, pressing back inside before dragging it out again, coating it in your wetness. “Please…” you whimper, as if pleading for more from him.

“That was just one finger, wasn’t it?” Somehow, him knowing that that makes you quiver, and you softly hum in response. “Another,” he says in such a stern tone that you gasp before slipping a second finger, your index, deeply into you.

You squirm around your own fingers, whimpering as you feel the pressure of you squeezing around them in the attempt to draw them deeper. The sound of Noah’s heavy breathing lets you know that his own movements have quickened.

“I'm just thinking about how tight you feel whenever I slip in. Are you tight, baby? Tell me how it feels, please...”

The soft plea at the end of his words makes you squeeze around your fingers, and you let out another moan. “It feels so… so good, so tight.” You slowly pump your fingers, imagining his cock and the way his hand is currently stroking himself to the rhythm of teasingly fucking you, just like he always does when he first slides in, as if he has all the time in the world.

“Mm, I believe you can add another.” You hear that smirk again, and it sends a shiver down your spine, making you want to protest, but he silences you before you can. “You’ve already taken three of mine. I think you can handle it yourself.”

You have, and when you think of his fingers and how long they are, how deep they reach when they curl inside you, it makes you whimper, yearning for him more than your own touch. His touch has a magical quality, a way of reaching parts of you that you could never alone.

“Don't forget your clit.” He reminds you, guiding you to raise your thumb and press it against your clit as you begin to position yourself in anticipation of inserting another of your own fingers.

“Oh, how I wish it were possible for you to be here with me right now, to touch you and feel you against me.”

As you begin to add a third finger as requested, your own sounds start to blend into soft moans and whimpers. Listening to him and using his voice as a guide, you feel the way your body responds to it alone. He’s always had this effect on you, able to make you melt with the softness of his voice. It was almost cruel, as if he were a siren, ensnaring you under his spell, compelled to do anything he said in that voice.

“I’d hold your hips while I rub my dick against you, and between your thighs.” He continues, and your mind is filled with visual images, recalling the sensations he's describing whenever he would tease you and himself in that way, rubbing his cock between your thighs and feeling the precum clinging to you.

“I'd kiss and lick your chest because I know how much you like it.”

You moan out in response to the thought, Noah’s voice becoming huskier as his hand squeezes around his shaft, stroking himself slightly faster, but not quite at the pace he needs to reach climax. Instead, he focuses on your own sounds, using them as a cue to begin fully.

“Do you enjoy it when I do that?” He hums, and you respond with a soft ‘yes’. “When I lick you, when I tease your nipples while I’m humping you?” Another breathless ‘yes’ follows, and you feel your nipples harden beneath the fabric of his shirt. Your thighs spread even wider as you begin to pump your fingers faster, your thumb struggling to maintain contact against your clit.

“Oh, fuck, I need to jerk off over you right now.” Noah hisses, his hand rapidly increasing in speed. “I would jerk off over you just like this, and you would be just as needy and desperate for me as I am for you.”

You hear the neediness and desperation in his voice, and it’s the same as yours. You whine and softly plead in response, needing to feel him and needing him just as badly as he does you.

“Noah, Noah, please…” you beg, and you hear him preening softly in response. You’re aware that your own begging is as much music to his ears as his is to yours.

“You’d take my dick all of it inside you, wouldn't you? So eager. So greedy."

You hear the quickening of his hand, the sound of him pumping his cock growing loud enough for you to catch it. Your own fingers start to pick up, hearing the wetness between your thighs.

"You'd cum on my cock over and over, and I wouldn't stop."

You whine at the mere thought, your hips bucking up to reach your fingers as you feel that tightness forming in your stomach, the heat ready to burst forth and spread throughout every inch of your body.

“Fuck, I need to cum." Pleads start falling from Noah's lips, joining your own. "Can you help me? Please?"

The way he begs you sends you surging towards your own climax, your eyes rolling back as you whimper, barely able to form even a coherent thought beyond just begging him to cum for you while he continues his own pleas, his whimpers growing louder amidst a mix of; “I’m so close, baby, please.��, “Please… please… let me cum. Tell me I can cum.”, “Please let me cum for you, please? Just for you, baby, please.”

“Noah, please! I’m so close! Cum for me, please!” You manage to scream out, right as the tight knot in your stomach snaps, the warmth spreading throughout your body, your fingers plunging deeply into your cunt as you cum around them, mumbling incoherent nonsense and whining as your body trembles from the intensity.

Despite your release, you can still hear Noah's voice, still pushing through, inching closer. “Oh, fuck! Oh, shit!” There’s that familiar whining plea in his tone, and you feel yourself tightening around your fingers every time he continues talking, begging for you. “I want you to make me cum. I want to cum so badly for you. I really, really want to.”

Noah can't stop as the rambles continue to fall between his lips, some nonsense, some him absolutely begging, desperate to have that release he can practically taste as his balls tighten, his hand fisting his cock harder. "I wanna cum...baby. I would cum so deeply inside of you. I would fuck it deep into you. I wanna keep cumming until the bed sheets are a mess, until—"

You hear the way his breath catches in that moment, disappearing into a whimpering moan as he cums. You can’t help but whimper at the thought of the mess currently spilling onto his stomach and hand, knowing that it would go to complete waste. You can’t help but let your mind wander to the beautiful memories of that sight—the way his stomach would tremble as you licked him clean, the way his spent cock would twitch with just the lightest contact. You feel yourself working up again, and if it weren’t for the exhaustion creeping in from such an intense orgasm, you’d easily push yourself to go again.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he says, and you’re met with a gentle chorus of appreciation from him. A tired smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you curl into the pillow for a moment, savoring the praises that flow from him before you share your own, tender reminders of how much you love one another, especially when he’s away on the road.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke  @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @bloody-spades @halfalgorithmhafdeity @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero

[unsolvedjarin]

Thinking about a kimi x fem! Driver! Reader who is basically the female version of Sebastian, where the fic is kimi and the reader doing a challenge for Ferraris channel, the reader being a bit of a know it all, and kimi just not caring

You can choose if it’s romantic or platonic:) thank you!

FERRARI AND CHINESE FOOD

pairing: (kimi raikkonen x ferrari driver! reader)

summary: ferrari has a sunshine driver and an iceman driver partake in a challenge for their youtube channel. thankfully, the sun can melt ice.

note: its 1am sorry i have no comprehensive thoughts this is a bit bad but have it anyways i am proud i made this with less than 5 hours of sleep. okay enjoy anon!!!!

content warning: my grammar at 1am

“Another one,” Kimi groans, throwing himself onto the couch in his room.

“Oh come on it’s not that bad,” you say with a grin, closing the door behind the both of you so no one could come in. You’re sure if Kimi had to talk to another person from the media he might explode. “Besides, this next one is the last one for today.”

“For today,” he emphasizes, groaning into a throw pillow once more. You’d both been doing media duties for Ferrari all day, and while it was tiring, you would say some of them had been fun and enjoyable. Although, evidently not for your teammate.

“Cheer up Kimi, it’ll be over soon,” you smile, sitting on the edge of the couch where he was laying down. You sigh, knowing the one thing that would get him to cooperate. “Dinner will be on me after.”

That grabs his attention, slightly pulling himself up and looking at you. “You mean that?”

“God you’re like a child I have to bribe,” you tease, yet with no malice. “Yes, I mean that.” You loved spending time with Kimi, and whenever there were media duties you both always had food afterwards. It was like a reward of sorts.

“Where d’ya wanna go?” Kimi mumbles, laying down on his side and resting his head on his hand. He was staring straight at you, waiting for a response. You think he looked pretty like this.

Smiling at him, you take your hand and run it through his hair softly, unable to help yourself. You would never normally do this, but you barely got moments alone during media week. Kimi grumbles but doesn’t stop you, you knew he always secretly liked it. “I dunno, what’re you up for?”

“Mmm…” he nuzzles into your hand a bit more, “Maybe chinese. I would enjoy some dumplings right now.”

“We can get Chinese then.”

Before you could have another moment of peace, however, a PR agent walked in the room to remind you that your next shoot was in ten minutes. You quickly pulled your hand away and Kimi sat up hastily, trying to fix up his hair. You give the agent an awkward thumbs up, hoping he got the message to leave.

“Okay, you’re right, this incessant filming is a bit tiring,” you say the second the door closes.

“Told you,” he simply replies. You pout in return, slumping your form beside him. He thought you looked so cute like this. Holding your cheek, he kisses your forehead, your nose, then your mouth, making you scrunch up your face. He chuckles, at least he made you feel a bit better.

“I should probably get ready for the shoot. You good here?” You ask, getting up from the couch. Kimi hums a yes, but doesn’t let go of your hand. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, Kimi, but you will have to let go of my hand so I can get to my room.”

He looks at you with puppy eyes for a second before reluctantly letting go, deciding to lay back down on the couch.

“You’re not gonna get ready?”

Kimi shakes his head, eyes already closed ready for a five minute nap. You scoff softly at him, before heading for the door. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he mumbles. Kimi was not a man of many words by any means, but he would always utter those back to you. Smiling to yourself, you shut the door and get ready for the shoot.

“So this is how the challenge goes: you have to compete with each other on who knows your fellow drivers and each other the best, and of course, most points win. You’ll write your answers on a whiteboard so there’ll be no cheating.” The interviewer behind the camera explains. You nod, giving her a signal that you were ready for them to start filming. Kimi sat beside you on a couch, his face not showing any emotions whatsoever. Looks like you would be doing the heavy lifting on this shoot today.

They snap the check in front of the camera, and the interviewer asks the first question. “Starting with something simple, who on the grid has the most wins?”

“Oh, easy.” you mumble, writing your answer down on your board. Kimi wrote his answer in silence, not talking even when he finished.

“Done?”

You nod, both you and Kimi showing your boards. Lewis Hamilton.

“Easy enough, next question! Who was Y/N’s idol growing up?”

“Aha! You should know this, I told you about it before!” you exclaim, poking Kimi. He grunts, “Not fair, she knows her own idol of course.”

“Sorry, the question wasn’t finished. For Y/N, who was Kimi's idol growing up?” The girl adds.

Oh. Your smile drops as you look to the man beside you who, for the first time in any of the shoots you did today, showed emotion by grinning wickedly at you. “You should get this, I told you about it before,” he teases, echoing your own words. You think for a second before writing down a guess of an answer.

“Time’s up! Can you both please show your boards.”

You reveal yours first, the words Ayrton Senna scribbled down on it. Looking at the man beside you for confirmation, he shakes his head.

“Awh no way! Who’s your idol then?”

Kimi shrugs his shoulders, not answering your question. He didn’t even give Ferrari an answer for that one. He looks at his own empty board for a second before jotting down an answer he’s sure is wrong, but he’s also sure as hell is funny.

Turning his board around, you see Kimi Raikkonen written down with a smiley face beside it. You snigger loudly before replying, “Sure it is bud. In your dreams, maybe.”

“Unfortunately, that is incorrect, Kimi.” The interviewer calls out.

“Go figure,” he mumbles wryly, making you grin even wider.

“No, his answer is correct.” You joke, trying to tease him even more. He gives you a look but you simply keep your sly grin. He decides to drop it, after all he at least made you smile. That in itself deserves a point.

The questions went on for a while, before they got to the harder ones. “Okay, amping it up a notch, who won the 1985 World Championship?”

“Woah, that escalated quickly,” you exclaim, pausing to think for a second.

So far the score was 4-1 for you and Kimi respectively, as he really wasn’t trying at all. You’re pretty sure he could’ve gotten the question about what year Fernando Alonso came into F1 right if he cared. Jotting your answer down to the current question, you see Kimi from your peripheral vision trying to take a peek of your board.

“Hey!” you smack him lightly with your board, “Cheater.”

He smirks, trying to block your second hit. “Wasn’t cheating.”

You continue writing your answer but this time hiding it from Kimi, keeping it as close to your chest as possible. He looks at you for a second as if planning something before going back to write on his own board. Well– he pretends to write something, but you can see him just drawing a star in the corner of his board.

“What’re you planning?” You mumble. Kimi simply shrugs his shoulders, but you can see the slight grin playing on his lips. Locking in your answer, you feel the couch shift slightly to your left. Kimi inched a little closer without you sensing it. He notices your side eye and realizes it’s now or never, and tries to tackle you to see your board.

You shriek, attempting to hide your board from him by sliding down the sofa, to no avail. Your reaction was too slow and he was already on your side of the couch. You were giggling helplessly at this point, unable to contain your joy. Opening your eyes that you didn’t notice you closed, you’re met with a large smile, your teammate proud of himself.

“Get off of me Raikkonen!” You exclaim, using his last name for emphasis. You try to shove him off but he stays solid slightly on top of you, still pretending to try and take a peek of your board. You knew he didn’t give a damn about those answers anymore.

“Say please,” he mutters, still smirking. You truly didn’t know what had gotten into him.

“Please get off of me, you bastard.”

In truth Kimi didn’t want to, he enjoyed seeing your face scrunch up under him with a laugh. He had forgotten about the cameras a long time ago– they weren’t important to him. He just liked seeing you smile. Still, he knew the faster they finished this challenge the faster he could get some alone time with you.

He finally concedes and moves back to his spot on the couch, fixing his hair and going back to writing his answer as if nothing happened. You sit up straight, fix your shirt, and do the same. The crew looked confused, feeling like they saw something that they shouldn’t have. You didn’t care, though. If anyone asked you would just say what you always did, that physical touch was your love language with friends. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, except for the fact that Kimi wasn’t just a friend.

The interviewer clears her throat before speaking up again, “Okay– uh– answers?”

“Prost, of course.” You answer with a smile. You loved studying the history of Formula One. Even though you couldn’t see, Kimi gave you the softest look he has in a while. He loved how you genuinely lit up whenever something you liked came up.

“And you, Kimi?” The interviewer asks, making the man snap out of his moment of adoration.

Kimi flips his board, a Lewis Hamilton written on it. The interviewer shakes her head but continues, “I’m sure that’s a gag answer b—”

“Is it?” Kimi butts in.

“I’m sorry?”

“Is it a gag answer?”

You shove Kimi softly on his side, “Don’t mess with her like that!”

He chuckles, before raising his hands in defeat. “Whatever you say.”

The rest of the game moves pretty quick, save for a quick argument between you and Kimi on what Sebastian’s favorite track was. As you both leave the set, you give Kimi a sneaky grin. “Bold move earlier.”

“Hmm?”

“Doing all that tackling in front of the camera. I thought you were the one who said we should be discreet. You definitely gave Ferrari a lot of bonus content. I’m sure they’ll cut it out though.”

“Ehh,” Kimi shrugs, not replying for a good while as you both walk out the Ferrari building and out into the night streets. You knew he was trying to find the right words, trying to figure out how to articulate his thoughts. It was part of the reason why he didn’t like talking so much.

Once outside he wraps his arms around you, a sign that he was finally back in the present and ready to talk. “I just wanted people to know, you know?”

“Know what? That you have a quarterback tackle?”

He chuckles at the recent memory before replying, “No, that I love you.”

You blush, hoping Kimi didn’t see it. He did. You carry on your conversation, “And how exactly did you plan to convey that message when they don’t even know we’re in a relationship?”

“Hey, Sebastian knows.” He argues.

“Seb hardly counts, he practically forced his way into figuring it out.”

Kimi shakes his head, his arms still around you. “And he walked into a room at the wrong time.”

His comment makes you laugh, a soft smile on your face as you turn to face him. “I love you, you know that?”

“Mhm. Love you too. Even if I don’t say it much.”

Your grin grows even larger, leaning up to kiss him. “You don’t have to say, I know.” He kissed you back, and he could feel your smile as he did. He thinks it’s crazy that he’s hidden such a blessing from the world. How you ever loved someone like him, he didn’t know, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Pulling away, he gives you a smile that only you get to see. The softest in the world, looking at you as if you were the world. He breaks eye contact to hold your hand, headed towards the chinese restaurant down the road. “Okay, now dumplings.”

[penny00dreadful]

Santa Baby

Word count: 1.2k Rating: G Tags: Christmas fluff, getting together, Modern Setting, Santa Steve @steddieholidaydrabbles Day 25: Christmas

AO3

Let it be known that Eddie had never been one to make good decisions. Or consistent ones.

Which led him here, he guessed. Sitting at his computer at two in the morning, on what was technically Christmas Day now because he had sworn to himself he would go to bed at a reasonable time, he was just going to play a few more minutes of his game.

So when he heard something go bump in the night in the dark of his shitty little apartment, he had probably been a little too overtired and not exactly thinking straight.

He had poked his head out into his living room/dining room/kitchen, a small, tiny space with barely enough room to fit a small Christmas tree, but fit a Christmas tree it did, and the sight that met him had him wondering if he needed a carbon monoxide alarm or if he was just straight up hallucinating.

The colourful lights lit up a gentle glow against thick strong arms dusted with hair and moles, the polo shirt pulling tight against his muscles. Large thighs and an even larger ass wrapped up tight in light wash jeans, a hip popped out as this Adonis before him checked off a clipboard with a slightly bored expression over his face.

The entire vision was topped off with a Santa hat sitting perfectly upon a glorious head of hair, falling gently over his forehead, looking like every dashing leading man in every romantic Christmas movie Eddie had ever seen in his entire life. 

He will blame his tiredness for what fell out of his mouth, almost in a whisper.

“Is it my birthday?”

The guy checking off a clipboard in front of his dinky little Christmas tree glanced up at the sound, completely unsurprised to see Eddie there. Giving him the once over with an appreciative smirk pulling at those tempting full pink lips, taking in the pyjama pants slung low on his hips and his cropped sleep top, the guys eyes trailed back up to Eddie’s face just before he turned back to the task at hand.

The only lasted for a second though, before the guy whipped back around in shock, staring Eddie straight in the eye.

Eddie just raised his hand and gave him a dumbfounded little wave.

The guy blinked at him.

“You can see me?”

Eddie blinked back.

“Am I not supposed to be able to? You’re not exactly the most cat of cat burglars, dude.”

“Cat burglar?” The guy turned fully to him and Eddie was able to see the polo was pulled tight over a strong chest, a thick thatch of hair poking out over the top and his mouth began to water. “I’m not a fucking cat burglar, man I’m-”

The guy hesitated.

“You’re what?” Eddie grinned to himself, unable to stop the smile coming over his face or the step forward he took, remembering the appreciative look the guy gave him. “My own little Christmas present?”

The guy shook his head, his eyes taking in Eddie’s body all over again.

“What then?” Eddie asked. “Christmas elf?” He followed suit, taking in the full, thick muscled form of the guy in front of him shamelessly. “Shouldn’t you be wearing tights?”

“Not an elf, no. More of the big guy.”

“Big guy is right.” Eddie muttered appreciatively. “Wait… what then, like… You’re Santa?”

The guy shrugged, clipboard all but forgotten now, resting in the hand that was propped casually on that popped hip.

“It’s a family business. I’m taking over from my grandfather.”

Eddie nodded, well aware he should be freaking out more for a variety of reasons but not being able to find it within himself to care much as he stepped closer, the guy tracking him with bright eyes.

“Usually people take over from their parents, or so I’m told.”

“Yeah well, my dad never really had the heart for it.”

Eddie hummed to himself, telegraphing his movements in the hope he didn’t startle the man in front of him. He reached a hand out and when the guy didn’t flinch or back away, Eddie brushed his fingers lightly through the coarse hair peeking out over his polo.

“And how about you, sweetheart? Do you have the heart?”

“Steve.”

“Eddie.”

“I know.” Steve gave his clipboard a little shake, the green foiled holly and red berries bordering the pages, glittering against the lights of the tree and he happily let Eddie fondle his chest hair.

“This might be a little forward, Steve,” Eddie grinned again, tightening his fingers into the chest hair. “But I don’t suppose you need a Mrs. Clause tonight?”

Steve smirked back, his eyebrow cocking up. “I already have a Mrs. Clause-”

“Oh.” Eddie’s grin dropped along with his heart, and he pulled his fingers away but he was stopped by Steve’s hand wrapping around his.

“She’s a lesbian, though.”

“Oh?” Eddie could tell his confusion was radiating off of him. This was not like any Christmas story he’d ever heard before.

Steve shrugged.

“There was a clause in the Santa contract. I was told I’d need a Mrs. Clause in order to take up the position. Marrying my best friend seemed like the best option.”

Eddie tightened his fingers around Steve’s while Steve continued to watch him, biting his lip.

“While I would love to take you up on your offer, Eddie,” Steve had a regretful look in his puppy dog eyes. “I’m on the clock right now and ethically I don’t know if it would be a good idea to fool around with you tonight.”

Eddie shrugged to himself, almost accepting this was some kind of insane fever dream and he was going to wake up with the shape of his keyboard indented into his cheek.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying, right?”

Steve opened his mouth to answer, a sad smile dancing on his face but was interrupted by an insistent buzzing and overly cheerful jingle coming from his pocket.

“Shit, I have to go.”

Eddie brought Steve’s hand to his mouth, placing a kiss along the back.

“That’s alright, sweetheart, you go and bring joy to all the little kiddos.”

Steve smiled at him again.

“It was nice meeting you, Eddie.”

Eddie blinked his eyes open, somehow inexplicably bundled up in his own bed, the bright winter morning sunlight nearly blinding him through the crack in his blinds as he rolled over.

That had been one of the weirdest sober dreams he had ever had in his life.

Maybe this dry spell was getting to be too dry if he was dreaming up hot men appearing in his apartment and calling themselves Santa.

Though if it had been a dry spell dream, surely he would have actually gotten to at least kiss Steve rather than just-

Eddie paused as his hand brushed a piece of paper on the side of his bed.

He picked it up, unfolding it and knew his eyes were almost comically wide as he saw the same foiled holly and berries bordering the paper.

The grin that split over Eddie’s face and the disbelieving laugh that tore out of his throat did nothing to stop his own scrambling for his phone to punch in the number as fast as humanly possible.

AO3

As always, my biggest thanks and much love to @hbyrde36 for the beta work with this and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation!

[sunghoonbite]

pairings: heeseung/jay/jake x reader

warnings/content: nsfw, first time sex, valentine’s day! mutual pining, foreplay, i kinda edged u all on this one i’m sorry if u need a part 2 i understand

minors dni, before reading

hi happy valentine’s day!! it’s just these 3 bc i didn’t have the time to write for sunoo tonight, but i totally can add him at some point if you guys want it. hope u enjoy :o

you wore lace lingerie to heeseung’s dorm to tease him, his t-shirt that he gave you some weeks ago thrown overtop of it, your legs hidden by comfy sweatpants.

you had gone out earlier today for valentine’s day, to the mall and out to eat. but you wanted more than that. you called him up and let him know you’d be over to spend the night, and of course he immediately accepted your invitation.

heeseung wanted more too. when you drove to the restaurant, your sephora bags from the mall sitting on the floor of his car, you sat in the passenger seat, silently looking out the window. he’d look over at you once he got to a stoplight, and his eyes trailed down to your thighs every time. the weather was nice and you wore a skirt for him.

silently, he cursed himself. why did he want to touch you so badly? you sat innocently next to him, legs crossed, but the only thought on his mind was the sounds you’d make as you made a mess over his car. would you whine his name? grab his hand as he fucked your cunt?

when you got to his dorm, he looked you up and down, infatuated, although you were dressed messily in his shirt. you leaned in once inside and your lips met.

“take my top off,” you whispered against his mouth, and his hands trailed up your back. you felt his lips curl upwards.

he obliged, shirt falling to his carpeted floor, and he blinked at the lace bralette that just barely covered your chest up.

“can you fuck me, heeseung?”

once your words spilled out of your mouth, he had you pressed into his bed within seconds.

jay took you out to eat on valentine’s day. you had spent the night before, not unusual for the two of you, and while drifting off to sleep you mumbled some barely coherent words about what restaurant you wanted to be taken to. so, gladly, he surprised you the next evening. “surprise” being a loose term, since he quite literally will do whatever you ask. taking you out to eat is a minuscule task.

you got ready in his bathroom, and stepped out in a silk, short black dress. his eyes wandered instantly, your curves evident as the fabric hugged your body, but he looked away after getting a good glance. jay was typically short with his compliments, not at all meaning that he disliked your appearance whatsoever, but he felt almost intimidated by your beauty, and feared if he spoke too much about what you looked like or wore that it would become uncomfortable.

so, he uttered softly, “you look good.”

when you got to the restaurant, though, he wasn’t able to look away, despite his efforts. you were seated across from him, and you were both yet to order. your eyes scanned the menu, unaware of his scanning your body, and you pressed your lips together as you thought about what to order. you looked up at him, ready to ask his opinion, and he was already staring at you.

“is something wrong?” you questioned.

“you look amazing,” he stated your name after his sentence.

you beamed, face beginning to flush, and you looked up as you brushed his comment off.

“thank you!” you smiled, fully aware jay’s words are always genuine.

he spoke your name again, pausing afterwards. you looked at him.

“how about we go in the car?” his voice was low.

you waited a moment, trying to understand his request, but tilted your head slightly once he didn’t elaborate.

“why? what’s wrong?”

quietly, he leaned in and replied, “i want to fuck you in the parking lot.”

his words were unusually bold for him. your mouth opened as you looked around, searching for if someone heard him.

“would that be okay?” he asked, before you had the possibility to answer, “it’s okay if you want to wait for another time.”

you took your purse that rested on the table, and began to sit up out of your chair.

“i want to,” you said quietly, “fuck me in the parking lot.”

so he did.

you and jake stayed in for the holiday. you both planned this ahead, so he surprised you. he bought you chocolates and flowers, and placed them in gift box of your favorite things. you spent the day together, captivated with one another’s presence.

now, though, it was getting late, and you sat together on his couch. you started the third movie of the night, snacks from earlier scattered over the table in front of you. his arm was around your waist, and your head rested on his shoulder to accompany your body that was curled up on his side. you were close, so close.

for some reason, your body started to heat up. his touch against you was nice, but you wanted more from him. you wanted jake on your skin. you wanted him to touch you more. lower. deeper.

you shifted, hoping to release some tension as you tried to inch closer to him. it wasn’t possible, you were already nearly connected to him, your clothes the only thing separating you. it was agonizing, you wanted to feel him.

you lifted your head up to get a better look at his face that was fixated on the screen. when he felt the warmth leave his shoulder, he turned to you. you kissed him once he did, his mouth meeting yours.

once the kiss broke, you moved closer, sitting on his lap now, straddling his thigh.

“what’re you doing baby?” he asked, mouth curled up into what you made out to be a sheepish grin.

you leaned in to kiss his neck.

“i need you,” you mumbled against his skin.

his hands wandered down and held onto your waist firmly.

“yeah? need me how?”

you lifted your head up once again and a sigh escaped your lips, you turned your head to the side.

“jake, i want you to fuck me,” you said, cursing yourself mentally for letting yourself say it so boldly, so desperately.

“all of a sudden?” he asked, but not complaining, completing his sentence with a small laugh.

“it’s okay if you don’t want to,” you added.

“no, no,” he replied, “i want to.”

as he said that, he lifted your top above your head to start undressing you. he pressed his palms against your waist and laid you down on the couch gently.

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath at the sight of you, “you’re gonna look so pretty on my dick.”

you did, if you could call your mascara running pretty.

[ennabear]

ೃ༄ GOT WHAT I WANTED, BUT IT’S NEVER ENOUGH FOR ME ₊⊹

cw: more melvika!!!!! part 3 of my lil series but could probably be read on it’s own as always, cute fluff, public/semi public flirting and nudity/exhibitionism(????)(they don’t get caught), dom!mel and sub!brat!sevika, shibari, tribbing, oral, pussy slapping, mentions of aftercare of course, omg help this is all over the place idk how to tag it, 18+

a/n: HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!!! i hope you enjoy these sweeties hehehe <333 sorry if this seems rushed it’s because it was!!!!!!!

word count: 5.3k

5 am.

their alarm blared on mel’s bedside table, the small black box yelling at them to wake up before they’re late to what’s going to be the longest meeting of their lives. sevika hears it first, awakening with a gasp as mel stirs under her from all of the commotion. she groans and slaps it off, and then nuzzles further into her girlfriend’s neck to get another 5 minutes of sleep in.

“sevika…” mel grumbles, not completely awake yet.

“five more minutes. please.” she sighs, leaving open-mouthed kisses on mel’s neck in an attempt to convince her.

“we need to get up, love. if we’re late one more time, they’ll throw us out of there.” she warns.

“good. as long as i’m with you i won’t mind being jobless.”

mel snorts at this, but she’s still determined to get up at a normal time. she’s well aware that five more minutes turns into thirty, which turns into them stumbling in late to all of their meetings. and today they need to be on time because it’s extra important. they’re debating a new bill to be passed about funding more schools in the area, and with this, they could extend those extra funds to the children in zaun.

she sits up slowly, gently rolling sevika off of her and then pulling her up too once she stands. it’s still dark out, but beautifully illuminated by their array of lights and colors. they both sleep so much more peacefully this way, the lights offering a comfort that reminds them of home.

sevika groans and rolls her eyes as mel rips the covers off of her and yanks her out of bed. her hair is messy and tangled, half of it knotted together, and the other half sticking out in different directions, but mel adores her this way. the only thing cuter than a sleeping sevika is a sleepy, grumpy sevika that won’t stop clinging to her.

like now, when sevika stumbles forward and captures her in a hug— her newly found favorite thing to do with her new arm. her human arm is wrapped around her waist, the other tight around her shoulders, and she squeezes her so hard she can barely breathe. mel squeezes her back in a tight hug, then swats her away to go get ready.

sevika never gets ready on her own, though. she follows mel around and waits for her to get dressed and freshened up, and then makes mel assist in dressing her.

she claims that it’s because she can’t button her pants or shirt with her mech hand, but mel knows that that isn’t the truth. sevika knows it too, but there’s nothing she loves more than standing before her girlfriend, peering down at her with her tits, abs, and happy trail exposed, watching her fasten every single tiny button. she has a habit of starting from the bottom and buttoning them up to just under her neck, but then she’ll change her mind and rip a few open, staring wide-eyed at her girlfriend’s cleavage.

and that’s exactly what they do once mel finishes dressing herself, a long black dress draped beautifully over her body with sevika’s old cape thrown over it. sevika goes absolutely wild when mel wears it. she used to hate that ratty old thing. it did no good in protecting her, the holes in the stained fabric would let the cold air nip at her waist, and there was hardly any point in using it to conceal her mech arm when she’d rip off her cape dramatically a few minutes later.

but it just looks so good on mel, the dark, faded red color against her brown and gold skin is perfect in sevika’s mind. it’s been washed a few times since sevika has moved up here— because apparently everyone has washers and dryers around here, and they’re surprisingly usual to see in a home— so it’s less dirty, but still carries the memories of sevika’s adventures in it.

the sun is slightly higher in the sky when they check the clock again, and they have about half an hour before they need to be out the door, so mel sits them both down and pours two cups of coffee. one for her, black with a little bit of sugar, and one for sevika, extra cream and extra sugar, the way she knows that sevika and her sweet tooth secretly prefer it.

a small clink rings out as they toast their mugs and sip their coffee together, gossiping and exchanging secrets about their colleagues. they finish slightly early— only four minutes until they have to leave, early— so sevika’s brilliant mind decides to spend the time pinning her girlfriend to the couch and kissing her all over until neither of them can breathe.

mel loves seeing her this way. there’s something so intimate about waking up and getting ready with her, sharing coffee and secrets like old friends, seeing her messy hair and secret sweet tooth before they have to leave. she’s so adorable in mel’s eyes. she chose the perfect muse.

but there’s something else that mel loves, it comes after they get ready together in the mornings, but when they arrive at the council and take their seats. sevika will start to get heated and agitated as she listens to more stupid opinions and false information, and that same, cute scowl will start to show over her features. she’ll glare at anyone and everyone— even mel, until she can’t keep it up anymore and cracks a smile for a split second— and her chest will rise and fall as her breathing gets heavier.

she looks angry. she is angry, and it’s so hot. mel will bite her lip and stare at sevika intently, trying her hardest to engrave that image of her in her head long enough to paint her another portrait. she also adores her sass, her exasperated eye rolls and dramatic shrugs that are accompanied with innocent eyebrow raises. sevika is so animated, mel wonders how she even stayed awake during these agonizingly long meetings.

but today, sevika isn’t doing any of that.

as soon as they get there, they part and take their seats all the way across the room from each other. sevika hates it, she’s pissed that she can’t constantly be clinging onto her girlfriend, but mel loves it. she gets to stare at her the whole time, and they can send each other glances that tell everything on their minds without saying any words.

that’s exactly what sevika does the whole time. eye contact. and lots of it.

after about one minute of the guest speaker telling them all about his background in piltover and education, sevika decides it’s more worth her time to stare at mel. mel tries her best to ignore sevika, but she can feel her eyes on her the whole time as she tries to listen.

she turns to sevika and raises both eyebrows at her, as if to ask, “what do you want?”, but sevika just stares at her with her big, silver, sparkly eyes and smiles innocently. mel rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to the man, but then she sees sevika moving and her gaze is quickly turned back to her. she spies her girlfriend looking directly into her eyes, reaching up slowly to unbutton another clasp on her shirt.

this is risky, she’s already close to flashing everyone, but she does it anyways for mel’s attention. mel shoots her a sharp warning look, but sevika shrugs like she has no clue what’s going on, her eyes widening and sparkling impossibly more than usual.

when mel looks away again, sevika sighs dramatically. none of the council members care to glance at her, thank janna, because she’s leaning against the table with her elbows squishing her tits together as tightly as they can. mel is very aware that sevika is trying to get her attention, but she ignores her for another twenty minutes.

and she doesn’t look back at sevika until she sees even more shuffling from the corner of her eyes, and when she steals another glance at sevika, she’s absolutely mortified.

and extremely turned on.

because sevika has torn apart another button, and her tits are being pushed together by her huge arms. mel hawks at her, almost embarrassed because she’s millimeters from flashing everyone in that room— coworkers who she’ll have to see every day for the rest of her life— but she also can’t stop the heat from pooling in her stomach and flushing over her cheeks. sevika hasn’t broken eye contact once, and mel doubts that she’s looked away the whole time.

she grins when mel notices her, and smiles impossibly bigger when she sees her start to squirm in her seat and open her eyes as wide as possible. mel can see everything in full view, the hickeys still on her chest from a few nights ago, and a small sliver of her deep brown areolas hanging at the bottom of her tits. she shoots sevika a frustrated look, hoping that it comes across as “what the hell is wrong with you!?” but sevika just smiles and shrugs.

mel rolls her eyes, motions for sevika to button her shirt back up, but most of all, attempts not to make a scene. she doesn’t want anyone looking at her girlfriend’s tits, those are for her eyes only. but sevika misinterprets mel’s motioning to close her shirt— on purpose, of course, being the brat she is— so she raises one eyebrow and unbuttons another slowly, as if that was what mel requested.

now, her full, heavy tits are practically hanging out of her shirt. about half of each nipple is concealed by the fabric, but there’s no mistaking the fact that her shirt is opened to her mid-stomach, and anyone who looked her way would notice that in an instant. maybe she’s really lucky that what the guest speaker has to say is important, or that nobody bothers to stare at her like she has two heads anymore, because nobody notices it. no one except mel.

sevika decides to go even further. this meeting is boring and they still have hours to go, why not spice it up a little? she leans back in her seat and stretches dramatically, hands coming up to lock together behind her head, her thick nipples on proud display to the whole room. mel’s eyes almost fall out of her head.

yes, they have discussed a little bit of exhibition before while talking about kinks and their bedroom lives, but never this. this is all sevika’s own doing. as she stares at sevika in disbelief, her eyes start to trail from her big, sparkly, puppy eyes, down to her thick, asymmetrical lips, then to her neck, and finally to the place that sevika obviously wants her gaze to be.

sevika laughs as mel’s gaze gets locked onto her bare boobs— now more than just a sliver of cleavage— so she reaches up slowly and gropes one of them in her big hands. her soft tits squish in her hands like putty, and she flashes mel a wolfish grin as the poor woman looks half turned on, half murderous. sevika’s ego can’t get enough of it.

but they quiet down before she has a chance to shove her hands down her pants, which was her next plan, so she quickly buttons her shirt up— fully capable, as mel suspected— and leans back in her chair, grinning like nothing ever happened.

mel breathes a sigh of relief now that sevika’s is done with her little show, extremely grateful that she didn’t get caught. now she’s the one who can’t focus, sevika pays full attention to the other council members as they debate what should happen next, occasionally asking questions to the man and to each other. but mel can’t stop thinking about sevika’s tits, and the way she just completely acted up in public.

they take turns debating and listening to the others, mel partially wishes she were able to join into the conversation, but she knows that it won’t matter until they get to actually sign shit. for now, she’s just gonna sit back and listen to everyone else, mentally preparing herself to give a summary of everything that happened to sevika, she already knows she wasn’t listening to a single thing. but she’ll save that for after she fucks her so hard she can’t walk straight for a few days.

once they’re excused for the day after an excruciating few hours, sevika reaches out for mel’s hand as gentlemanly as possible, completely ignoring everything that she did to tease mel. mel hesitates, but takes sevika’s hand anyways. she hates the way sevika is acting like she’s the one in power. sevika gives mel’s hand a firm kiss as they stroll back to their suite, flesh on metal but still soft and warm altogether.

——

sevika dramatically flops herself down in bed, groaning something about her back hurting. and that’s when mel’s plan pops into place. she reaches forward and opens the buttons on sevika’s shirt, tugging it off of her limp body.

“you gonna force me to massage your sore back again?” mel teases.

sevika grunts. “i’m not forcing you to do anything, you’re the one who always climbs on top of me as soon as i sit down.”

mel giggles and kisses the top of sevika’s head, then decides to get to work. sevika almost melts when mel places herself on top of her, gentle hands slowly kneading her aching back and shoulders. a deep groan is muffled into the pillow. it takes a while for her to fully relax, but after half an hour of mel’s soft hands working away at her back, she’s completely limp and half asleep.

“are you still awake, love?” mel whispers just above her ear.

“mmh, yeah…” sevika answers, although it’s only halfway true.

mel giggles at her adorably sleepy girlfriend and keeps going, rubbing her thumbs over her shoulders, the heels of her hands over her spine, fingertips tracing over the scarred skin. when she works her thumbs into the small dips in her lower back, she groans in pleasure, arching slightly to try to get more of that feeling from mel.

mel grins. “you like that?”

sevika tries to respond, but her face is completely smooshed into the bed. “yea… feels good.”

mel climbs off of her but keeps her hands busy massaging the dimples in sevika’s back. sevika doesn’t question her shuffling until she feels mel leaving hot, wet kisses all over her neck and back. she whimpers into her pillow at the feeling, nipples hardening underneath her. mel chuckles at the way she’s squirming in her hold.

“that too?” she asks.

sevika doesn’t know what to say. she arches more into mel’s touch, lower-half lifting off of the bed as she gently grinds her tits into the mattress in search of some kind of friction. her breath shakes as she’s suddenly aware of how empty her cunt feels, and mel can see the wheels turning in sevika’s head as she notices what mel is about to do to her.

sevika gulps. “uh… yeah…” her cheeks heat up and her mind races, imagining her girlfriend putting her in whatever position she wants until neither of them can form words. she gulps, eyes widening as she feels mel’s hand snake up her sides.

mel reaches forward and flips sevika over, straddling her hips as her back hits the bed. sevika’s breath hitches when her girlfriend’s fingers come up to scratch at her freshly buzzed undercut, and she whimpers yet again when their lips meet in a messy, uncoordinated kiss. her eyes flutter closed as mel takes the lead, shoving her tongue into sevika’s mouth, finding her girlfriend’s and sliding them together.

sevika grabs onto mel’s hips, pushing them back and forth in an attempt to have her grind on her lap. mel just laughs into her mouth and keeps her hips solid in place, grabbing sevika’s hands— one a warm brown, painted with light scars, the other a shiny gold metal— and shoving them under her back. she fusses when mel pushes her hands away, but she’s scared of acting up now. she’s finally remembered that her actions have consequences, and mel isn’t afraid of a good punishment.

but sevika can’t help it. every time mel sits on top of her and sucks on her tongue like this, her hands get a mind of their own and wander all over her body. each time they trail up her legs to grope her thighs, mel swats them away and threatens her with a nip to her bottom lip. she wants nothing more than to touch her girlfriend right now, but she knows that based on the way she acted earlier, she’ll probably end up with her hands tied above her head.

and that’s exactly what happens. after the umpteenth time that sevika pinched mel’s thighs or hips, mel got fed up and climbed off of her, leaving to grab some of the rope they bought specifically for tying each other up. sevika recognizes that light gold color as she struts back in with an annoyed look on her face, and she can’t even force any words out as mel ties her hands together in front of her, and then ties them to the headboard above her.

“is this okay?” mel asks, shoving a few fingers in between sevika’s wrists and the rope to make sure that it’s not too tight. sevika gawks up at her with her jaw slack.

“yeah… that’s good.” she whispers, her eyes growing lovestruck and starry.

mel leaves her hands tied above her as she unbuttons her slacks and pulls them off. sevika struggles against the rope a bit, her instincts taking over and telling her to pin mel to the bed and ride her until they’re both too tired to move anymore, but she gets held back. she grunts as she yanks her wrists down, but nothing happens. all it does is make mel laugh at her, which makes her feel so weak yet incredibly turned on.

once mel gets sevika’s pants off, she takes a second to marvel at the wet spot on her boxers. her thighs are flexing as she squirms helplessly in front of her, halfway attempting to shield herself from her girlfriends perverted gaze, halfway wishing mel just fuck her already. she’s been soaked ever since the night before when they had to cancel their weekly routine of having hot and heavy sex while wine drunk because they needed to get to bed early. sevika was waiting all day, dreaming of it all week, and just like that, their responsibilities ruined everything.

mel was looking forward to it too, but she already foresaw sevika acting up in one way or another, and she knew she’d be breaking out the rope soon anyways. it didn’t really make a difference, because the way she’s about to fuck her right now will make up for it and then some.

she shuffles around on top of her girlfriend, yanking her dress off along with her own underwear. sevika whines when mel’s golden happy trail and bush are exposed to her, and curses when she realizes that she doesn’t get to touch her. at all.

sevika tries to wrap her legs around mel, but mel is too quick, already on her feet unraveling more rope to tie sevika up with. she has no choice but to lay limp as mel bends her into the positions she wants. she brings sevika’s each of her ankles to her thighs, tying knots all around them just above her ass. as soon as mel has a clear view of sevika’s glistening cunt, she moves up to web the rope around the back of sevika’s neck, and then on each side of her heavy tits that she was proudly showing off earlier.

a faint blush creeps up on sevika’s cheeks as she watches mel tie her tits up, the soft flesh hanging over the rope and squishing together. mel kisses each of her cheeks as she sputters and submits under her, glad that her plan of getting sevika to give up domming was successful. sevika whimpers when mel’s soft lips press against her face, and she gulps again loudly when mel whispers a, “yeah, just like that, my star.” into her ear.

mel takes a second to marvel at sevika tied up this way. legs forced open, hands tied together and out of the way, tits on perfect display, the way sevika so obviously wanted them to be earlier. every time she gazes into those wide, silver eyes, it’s like she’s falling in love over and over again. even more true when sevika is staring up at her like she’s the sun in her universe, setting her soul ablaze.

sevika’s legs are spread as wide as they can possibly be, and mel hooks her legs over sevika’s and then pauses. faintly, through the thick, wispy hairs shrouding her dripping slit, she can see sevika’s clit pulse and quiver in anticipation. she smirks to herself, then darts forward to kiss all the way up sevika’s chest.

her nipples pucker as mel traces her pointed tongue around them, then gently yet firmly sucks them into her mouth. a loud whimper forces its way from sevika’s throat, and she groans at the way mel teases her, purposefully not touching her where she needs it the most. she tries to get herself off, but it’s no use. her legs are forced open by mel, hips pinned to the bed, cunt dripping wet and completely neglected.

“mel.” she groans, and it almost sounds like a threat. mel just laughs, sevika is in no place to be threatening mel when she’s the one laying helplessly limp under her.

“yes?” she asks, a painfully innocent grin growing on her features.

“fuck, how much longer are you gonna tease me?” she pants, out of breath and aching to be touched already, hoping that mel decides to go easy on her.

“well, let’s see…” mel starts, a far away look in her eyes. “you did put on quite the show in front of all of those people…”

“yeah but we didn’t get caught.” sevika adds.

“do you really wanna talk back to me?” mel warns with a smirk. her fingers come up to trace sevika’s jaw and hold it in her hands, squeezing gently to remind her who’s in power.

sevika shuts her mouth, not wanting to earn herself an even larger punishment.

“…and you have been acting up quite a bit today, wouldn’t you agree?”

the larger woman underneath her nods, too intimidated to say otherwise.

“so, what do you think? should i go easy on you?” she asks sevika.

“i— well—” sevika starts, trying to calculate her words carefully. earning the smallest punishment without telling any lies is her goal.

“do you want me to sit myself down and ride you into the mattress?” she whispers into her girlfriend’s ear, completely derailing her thought train.

sevika’s eyes widen, and she nods enthusiastically. “please, i was just bored and i missed you. that’s all.”

mel smiles and once again runs the point of her nails against sevika’s undercut, making her completely melt underneath her. slowly but surely, mel lines up her own cunt with sevika’s, and then angles her hips forward and backward to kiss their clits together.

the headboard groans as sevika tugs on her rope, wanting nothing more but to quicken mel’s pace. she’s so close already, but the agonizingly slow grind of mel’s hips is making it even worse. if sevika had her way, the whole bed would be slamming into the wall with her thrusts.

“please…” sevika begs, yanking on her restraints as if it’ll do anything.

“please what? isn’t this what you wanted?” mel asks, a faux confusion clouding her features.

“f-faster, harder, more.” sevika demands, as if she has a say in any of this.

mel chuckles at sevika, the only thing she loves more than being teased by sevika is teasing her back. “always demanding more, aren’t you? it’s just never enough for you, is it? can never be satisfied.”

“no, i—” sevika grunts at the way her words are twisted so easily by her girlfriend. “that’s not what i meant.” she huffs, tears filling her eyes with the slow, borderline painful way mel is touching her.

bright, bubbly giggles from mel break the brief silence in the room as she laughs at sevika’s huffy attitude. she decides to go a bit easier on her, so she sits down fully, her slick completely mixing with sevika’s and spreading all over both of them. mel throws her head back, moaning at the feeling of sevika just getting wetter and wetter. she keeps tugging against her binds, but it’s no use.

and she looks so beautiful all tied up. her legs are folded together, the rope squishing at the plush of her thighs and stomach. arms together and laced above her head, casting a gentle shadow on her features. her cunt keeps pulsing and clenching against mel as if she’s trying to suck her in, and she starts melting at the sweet way sevika is begging for more.

but this raises a question: does she deserve more, or has she acted up too much to deserve it? should mel stop everything to make sure her girlfriend gets what she wants, or should sevika just sit there and take it? mel ponders this, but her decision is made when she glances down to get a glimpse of sevika’s beautiful, sparkly eyes.

she’s not going easy. not tonight.

her hand travels up to gently grab sevika’s neck as her hips speed up. sevika’s clit catches on mel’s as mel rides her, her own chest rising and falling beneath the restraints. for a moment, sevika thinks mel is being nice to her, but she realizes that she’ll be in for a long night when mel doesn’t stop after she cums the first time. her orgasm washes over her like waves, heavy and deep, leaving her out of breath. but the stimulation keeps going as mel scoots off of her and starts to place kitten licks to her cunt.

sevika gasps at the feeling, and then whines when mel laughs at her. she tries to squirm away but she’s tied in place, and mel’s grip is too strong anyways. her clit is hard and stiff as mel sucks it into her mouth, thoroughly enjoying every whine and twitch it brings from her.

the worst part for sevika? mel is like a god when it comes to eating her out. she gets it so messy, kissing and sucking on her lips, occasionally stopping to spit on the top of her clit and watch it drip down into her hole. her perfectly arched lips working wonders while all sevika can do is sit there completely limp as her eyes roll back into her head.

“mel…” sevika pants, tears forming in her eyes as she feels another orgasm creeping up on her.

mel doesn’t respond, instead just humming and looking up at sevika as she tongues her clit.

“mmh, it’s too much. i didn’t mean to misbehave.” she cries, legs trembling as a mixture of wet arousal and squirt trailing down mel’s chin.

small splashes of her squirt spray out from her cunt as mel continues sucking on her clit, then she inserts two fingers slowly and steadily. sevika gasps and instantly clenches around mel’s fingers, tugging her arms down even harder. for a second, mel thinks the headboard might snap with the way she’s pulling so hard, but a quick slap to her swollen cunt grounds her and causes her to quit pulling.

sevika squirms underneath mel, cheeks glowing the faintest red as mel smiles down at her. the pain lasted only momentarily, and it was quickly overcome by a hot shock of pure pleasure. something dark clouds mel’s golden eyes as she stares down at sevika and her begging eyes, completely unable to close her legs.

“did you like that?” mel asks, although the answer is obvious.

sevika can’t even form words, she just stares up at mel and makes a sad attempt at nodding.

mel leans forward, glaring at sevika and taking her jaw in her hand. “use your words.” she demands.

her bright, silver eyes glance away from mel’s, but mel forces her to meet her gaze. “i— uh… yes.” she admits. deep, smooth voice shaking a little at the thought of mel continuing.

“good.” mel giggles, pressing a kiss to sevika’s nose.

then she sits up, placing herself between sevika’s legs, prepared to make her scream.

she starts with one gentle smack to her sore clit, which causes sevika to clench around nothing and squirm her hips. mel takes it easy at first, rubbing over the spot she hit softly until sevika is begging and dripping for more. then she goes at bit harder, bringing her hand down to sevika’s pussy with more force than the last until she’s whimpering louder than she ever has.

clear strings of arousal cling onto mel’s fingertips as she raises her hand again, so she smacks her even harder to make sevika even more wet. sevika winces as mel continues abusing her poor cunt, but can’t stop moaning at the feeling of yet another orgasm building up. she’s about to snap soon. mel knows this, of course, slapping and rubbing over her clit more aggressively, watching her cunt flutter.

sweat drips down sevika’s neck and pools on the pillow as she gets closer and closer, and she can feel her mind starting to grow fuzzy and blank. mel keeps going as sevika winces and squirms, and there’s a thick trail of cum and slick dripping onto the bed below her.

all it takes is one more slap before sevika is cumming, her cunt and thighs twitching as she grips the rope tying her hands together. time stops for her, all she can feel is white hot pleasure coursing through her veins for what felt like the millionth time that day. she gulps and gasps for air, feeling her cunt and inner thighs dampening from her cum. mel chuckles at her poor girlfriend, clearly overstimulated as she soaks her in her squirt. her eyes are practically heart shaped as she meets sevika’s soft and exhausted gaze.

“my love.” mel giggles. sevika takes a deep breath, lips quivering.

“untie me, please.” sevika begs. so mel does, gently unwrapping the rope from her wrists, tits, and legs, cutting some parts that are too stubborn to untangle.

the first thing sevika does when she’s free from her binds is dive forward and pin mel to the bed. they’re both slightly damp all over from a mix of cum, sweat, and tears, but neither of them care. sevika presses small kisses all over mel’s face as they both giggle and try to catch their breath together.

“mmh… i need a nap now.” sevika mumbles sleepily.

“let me give you a bath first, babe.” mel suggests, “i don’t want you to wake up sore.”

“i’ll fall asleep in the bath, though.” she frowns.

“no you won’t, i’ll let you grope me as much as you want and it’ll keep you awake.”

they both laugh at this, exhausted and in love and glued to each other. eventually, they’ll get up, once mel feels the drool leaking out of sevika’s mouth and wakes her up again. but for now, sevika will get her five more minutes of cuddles that she begged for earlier that morning.

[soulofapatrick]

We Are Everything - Rhysand x female reader

Summary: Rhys gets jealous of how close you are with Cassian and Azriel 

Words: 2.7K 

Warnings: None really

Y/N's POV

Every inch of me is on fire as Azriel and I land in the House of Wind, a dull ache spreading through my muscles from a day that’s been nothing short of brutal. Today, for the first time, I manifested Illyrian wings—the heavy, powerful weight of them still unfamiliar against my back. Each beat had been a struggle, the strain leaving me barely able to stand now. My body hums with fatigue, my bones echoing with the effort it took to stay aloft.

Azriel’s hand remains firm around my arm, guiding me as we step into the living room. I’m barely aware of who’s present, only that the comforting warmth of home surrounds me—until I hear a soft scoff.

I lift my head and catch Nesta’s narrowed gaze flicking over me, her lips curled in the faintest sneer. Her eyes linger on my trousers, the mud-streaked leather, the sweat still clinging to my skin. There's a flash of disdain that I know all too well; she doesn’t even need to say it for her message to be clear. A woman should be in dresses, not leather, and definitely not training.

But after the day I’ve had, I can’t bring myself to care. Not even Nesta’s sharp look can touch the quiet pride pulsing in my chest, the satisfaction of the wings still heavy against my back.

Nesta’s sneer sharpens as I meet her gaze, her mouth twisting just a bit more. “I suppose now you think you’re an Illyrian warrior,” she says, voice dripping with that familiar disdain. “I hope you don’t expect us all to start dressing like… that.”

I’m too tired to even form a response, so instead, I lift a hand and flip her the bird without breaking stride. I hear a scoff and what might be a muttered insult, but I’m already focused on my destination: the couch, where Cassian is stretched out, watching with one raised brow and a smirk playing on his lips.

With legs shaking and every muscle burning, I stumble forward, letting myself collapse right onto the couch beside him. A pained groan slips from my lips as I finally let my body go slack, my head falling onto Cassian’s strong, solid thighs like a pillow carved from pure muscle.

Cassian’s smirk softens into something warmer, and without a word, his hand moves to my hair, his fingers gently working through the strands. The slow, soothing strokes seem to untangle more than just my hair, easing away the worst of the day’s strain. I close my eyes, letting out a contented sigh as I feel the stress of training begin to melt away under his touch.

At the other end of the couch, I feel a soft pressure at my feet. Cracking one eye open, I find Azriel crouched by my boots, unlacing them with a care and gentleness that almost surprises me. His touch is reverent, his shadows coiling protectively around him as he works. He glances up, his gaze meeting mine for just a moment, and there’s a flicker of warmth there—softer than his usual stoicism, an almost brotherly affection that makes my heart ache in a different way.

Between Cassian’s gentle touch in my hair and Azriel’s careful hands unlacing my boots, I feel myself drifting, the weight of exhaustion pulling me under.

The fatigue in my body is overwhelming, but Cassian’s touch is a balm, gentle and soothing. His fingers comb through my hair with a rhythm that almost lulls me to sleep, and Azriel’s presence at my feet grounds me in a way that lets me fully surrender to the moment. The ache in my bones is nearly forgotten under the weight of their care, but then, something else tugs at my chest—a pull that is different, sharper, than the weariness I’ve felt all day.

It’s not physical, but it aches all the same. My heart stirs, and my eyes flutter open in confusion. There, standing in the doorway, is Rhysand. His dark wings are tightly folded, his posture rigid, his expression taut with something I can’t quite place. His eyes find me instantly, pinning me in place, and that ache in my chest grows stronger. It’s a subtle thing, an invisible thread pulling me toward him.

Cassian’s fingers stop mid-stroke in my hair, his hand freezing when he catches the tension in the air. I can feel it, too. The room feels suddenly charged, the air heavy with unspoken words. Rhysand’s jaw tightens, and he lets out a low sound—almost a growl—as his gaze flicks from Cassian’s hand in my hair to my face, his eyes darkening in a way that sends a ripple of heat through me.

“Cassian,” Rhysand’s voice is a dangerous whisper, rough with barely restrained control. “Stop touching her.”

The words hit me like a shock to my system, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. Cassian’s hand stirs in my hair one last time before pulling away, his fingers trembling slightly as if reluctant to let go. The sudden absence of his touch makes my skin burn for a moment, and I fight the instinct to reach for him, to beg him not to stop.

I’m too tired to care about the tension, too exhausted to hold back the words that tumble from my mouth. “Go away, Rhysand,” I murmur, my voice thick with sleep and a quiet defiance. “I’m tired, and I’m comfy. Let me be.”

There’s a sharpness in Rhysand’s eyes, something deep and possessive that makes my pulse quicken. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak for a long beat. Even Nesta, who usually doesn’t hide her distaste, falls silent, her sneer melting into something unreadable as she watches. Feyre, tucked behind her book, raises a brow but doesn’t look up from the pages, the quiet understanding in her gaze making me wonder if she’s seen this before.

I feel the tension crackle between us, thick enough to make the room feel smaller, the air too heavy to breathe easily. Rhysand doesn’t leave, but neither does he approach, his eyes still fixed on me with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver up my spine.

Cassian, on the other hand, remains still, his hand resting just inches from my hair, his touch gone but the heat of it lingering. His fingers twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to return to their soothing rhythm, but he stays where he is, a silent promise in the way his eyes meet mine. The unspoken connection between us is undeniable.

But Rhysand, still standing in the doorway, seems to fill the entire space with a tension that’s almost suffocating. I want to resist the pull in my chest, want to ignore the way he makes everything inside me tighten, but I’m too tired. And right now, all I want is to rest in the warmth of the moment, to let the world fade away around me.

With a soft sigh, I close my eyes again, refusing to acknowledge the storm brewing in the room. “Go away, Rhysand,” I whisper once more, this time my words gentler, though my resolve is still firm.

I’m too comfortable here. Too safe. Too-

Rhysand’s eyes flash, the storm within him no longer hidden. Without a word, he crosses the room in two large strides, his presence towering and undeniable. Before I can even register what’s happening, his arms are around me, lifting me off the couch in one fluid motion.

The sudden shift in position, the abruptness of his actions, has me gasping in pain. My body protests, every muscle aching from the day’s training, the weight of my wings still unfamiliar. The sharp tug in my chest grows, but it’s not just the ache from my wings anymore—this pain is raw, burning through me, made worse by his hurriedness.

I cry out, the sound torn from my throat before I can control it.

Rhys’s expression falters for a split second, his eyes darkening as if the pain I’ve felt only deepens his own anger. But there’s no pause. No apology. He holds me tighter, his jaw clenched so hard I can see the muscles twitch under his skin. His chest heaves with every breath, but the world around us seems to shrink with the intensity of the moment.

Without warning, the air ripples with the unmistakable feeling of his magic, and I’m yanked away from the House of Wind. The world blurs, the room fading into nothingness before I even have a chance to react.

We’re somewhere else—far from the House of Wind. The air is colder, crisper, and the scent of pine fills my senses. My eyes snap open to find myself in a cozy cabin nestled in the mountains, the dim light from a crackling fire casting soft shadows across the room.

Rhysand doesn’t put me down immediately. His grip on me is firm, possessive, and though his anger hasn’t subsided, there’s something more in his gaze now. Something… unreadable. He’s still holding me against his chest, his heart beating wildly under my ear as I try to steady my breath.

I’m still cradled in his arms, my body weak and aching, and yet, with his warmth enveloping me, I can’t help but feel a strange comfort. The pain from the abrupt winnowing is still there, but it’s swallowed by the closeness of his presence, by the way he holds me so tightly, almost as if he’s afraid to let go.

His voice comes low, rough, and edged with frustration. “What the hell were you thinking, pushing yourself like that?”

Rhysand’s gaze softens, just for a moment, and then he’s moving, cradling me against his chest as he strides toward the bedroom. Every step is measured, careful, as though he’s afraid any jostling might worsen the ache in my body. When he lays me down on the bed, I feel a tenderness in his touch, a gentleness that makes my heart twist painfully.

For a brief, fragile moment, I think I might cry. There’s something in his eyes—a rare vulnerability, a glimmer of guilt and protectiveness so intense it makes my throat tighten. I’m too tired, too sore, to unravel the depth of it, but the ache that had been nagging in my chest spreads, a tender warmth and longing all at once.

Without a word, Rhys turns toward the en-suite, the sound of water filling the silence as he begins to run a bath. My body throbs with the lingering pain of the winnowing, muscles still tensed from the sudden shift. Yet, as I watch him turn away, that ache only deepens, twisting through me, begging him not to leave my side.

Almost on instinct, my hand reaches out, finding his fingers just as he starts to pull away. I can barely speak, my voice a hushed whisper. “Don’t… don’t go.” My fingers tighten around his, not caring about pride or pretence in this moment—just the desperate need for his warmth, his steadiness, here with me.

Rhysand stops, his back still turned to me, but I feel his hand squeeze mine, firm and reassuring. Slowly, he turns back, his expression melting from tense determination into something softer, something full of unspoken promises. His thumb brushes across my knuckles as he kneels down beside the bed, his gaze meeting mine.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, his gaze flickering, his expression unreadable for a beat, but his hand tightens around mine, his thumb still tracing slow circles on my skin. He lets me pull him onto the bed beside me, his weight dipping the mattress just enough that I can feel the warmth of him, smell the faint, familiar scent of night-blooming jasmine and sea salt, something uniquely Rhysand that fills the air and makes my head spin.

He’s so close now, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that makes my heart skip. The firelight flickers, casting a warm glow across his sharp features, softening the fierce determination in his gaze. My breath catches as I study him, and I can feel the unspoken words that seem to hover between us, thickening the air.

The air between us pulses with an ache, heavy and electric, and I can barely breathe under the weight of it. Tugging him closer, I pull Rhys to me until his face is so close I can feel the whisper of his breath against my lips. His dark gaze flickers over my face, full of need, tenderness, and something fierce that makes my heart stammer.

“Is this what I think it is?” I breathe, my voice a trembling thread. My fingers brush the line of his jaw, feeling his muscles clench beneath my touch. He stares at me like I’m the only thing in existence, his eyes wild and searching, his body still but tense, as if he’s holding back a torrent of feeling.

His lips part slightly, a faint, shaky exhale escaping. “And what do you think it is?” His voice is rough, his words both a challenge and an invitation.

My heart pounds, my throat tight with the overwhelming truth of it all. I hold his gaze, each beat of silence heavy with meaning, before I finally say, “You’re my mate.”

As soon as the words leave my lips, his expression crumbles—relief, joy, and something almost like disbelief flashing across his face, only to be replaced by a fierce, desperate devotion. His hands come up to cradle my face, his thumb grazing my cheek as if afraid I’ll vanish. He leans in, his gaze soft yet blazing with unspoken words, with promises and feelings he’s held back for far too long.

“Say it again,” he whispers, his voice trembling, thick with emotion. His eyes are locked on mine, as if needing to burn the moment into his memory, to let the words settle into his very bones.

“You’re my mate, Rhys,” I say, barely more than a breath, but I pour every ounce of feeling into it. It’s the truth, raw and undeniable.

And before I can take another breath, he closes the gap, his lips crashing onto mine, and the world falls away. His kiss is desperate, searing, full of longing that has simmered for what feels like a lifetime. He kisses me as if he’s starved for it, as if I’m the only thing that can soothe the ache inside him, and the intensity of it ignites something deep within me, spreading like wildfire.

His hands tangle in my hair, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulls me closer, holding me like he’s afraid to let go. Each touch, each press of his lips, is fierce, claiming, yet achingly tender. His kiss is everything—demanding, gentle, passionate—and I feel myself melting into him, my body surrendering to the rhythm of his, every fibre of me aligning with him.

His lips leave mine just long enough for us to gasp for breath, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re dark with longing, with love, his forehead resting against mine as if he’s grounding himself in me.

“I’ve wanted this—needed this—for so long,” he murmurs, his voice rough and unsteady, his hands framing my face, thumbs brushing along my cheekbones.

“Then don’t let go,” I whisper, voice trembling with emotion.

His gaze softens, but the desperation remains, and he kisses me again, deeper this time, with a kind of reverence that makes my heart ache. It’s as if he’s pouring his very soul into me, as if his love, his devotion, is something he can no longer contain. His arms wrap around me, pulling me impossibly close, our bodies aligning, the world outside forgotten.

In this moment, we are everything.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

TAGS:

@lilah-asteria @maleficmuse @fanficscuziranout @angelbunny222

[asonofpeter]

Insanity

Pairing: Jaime Reyes x F!Reader

Summary: Your lack of sleep makes it seem like you're going insane, then again, your boyfriend has an alien inside of him...maybe insanity makes sense.

Warnings: reader has emotional distress, description of skin and flesh? mentions of sleep deprivation and male genitals, SPOILERS FOR BLUE BEETLE! there's also some light SMUT but it will be labeled by 🦋 so you can skip if you want and must be 18+ to read!

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Second part? Umm hell yeah! I gotta go see this movie again cause I wanna see Jaime wink wink. Thank you for all of those who reblogged the last part! If the smut confuses you, be aware that I'm a whore and my page mainly consists of smut. Please make sure you're 18+ when reading and enjoy! 💕💕💕

I don't consent to my work being copied, reposted, or translated.

“Where could he have possibly gone?!” you ran your fingers over your hair, tears streaming down your face as Miliagro tried to comfort you. “What the hell was that thing?” you shook your head, dumbfounded.

You had been standing, staring up at the hole in the ceiling for the last few minutes, completely dumbfounded that your boyfriend was somewhere up there. You were in hysterics compared to the rest of the family.

“Amá is calling the police, I’m sure we’ll find him,” she rubbed your shoulder, tears streaming down her face too.

A few moments later, your heart rate spiked up the moment a loud crash was heard in the dining room, the already collapsed table now housing your fainted boyfriend who was completely naked.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, hand over your mouth as you ran over to aid him but he awoke abruptly, incoherent words escaping his lips. About to stop him from moving to prevent any injury, you felt your face heat up when he stood up.

“His huevitos!” Rudy shouted, the rest of the family’s breaths hitching before Rocio and Nana started reminiscing about Jaime’s childhood. 

You stepped forward, trying to give Jaime some concealment but he pushed passed you, entirely dazed until he crashed on the couch.

“Ten, tapaló,” Rocio handed you a blanket and you quickly covered him. That’s when you all realized what was on his back. 

“That is the grossest thing I’ve ever seen,” Millie gagged beside you and you frowned at the sight of the bug fused into his back.

~

You sat at Jaime’s head on the couch, Nana waving the vapor rub in front of his nose. You combed your fingers through his hair, the smell, and your touch slowly coaxing him awake. 

His eyes opened, body jolting in shock to see all of you sitting around him. “Where?” his brows were furrowed and he stared down at himself, realization growing on him and being confirmed by a peek under the blanket. “Oh god,” he gaped, shooting up from the couch and keeping the blanket wrapped around him.

“Jaime, wait,” everyone called out, following him but he shrugged everyone off, going into his room.

“Follow him and tell him,” Millie pushed you forward and you got the message as you managed to slide into his room before he slammed the door shut.

“Jaime,” you called out, a smile forming on your face when you saw his bare ass, unable to help yourself. “You need to know something,” you wrung your fingers together, staring at the glowing blue fusion on his back. 

“Hang on, Y/N, I can explain everything. It’s all fine, this is all normal,” he struggled to put clothes on, mainly muttering to himself. “It’s all good,” he laughed, shirt in his hand as he walked over to you, a humorless laugh escaping him as he grabbed your shoulders. “I missed you,” he inhaled before leaning in and kissing you.

You were taken aback by the sudden gesture, but welcomed it nonetheless when you recalled how worried you’ve been about him. 

“Jaime,” you said when he pulled away, licking your lips as you opened your mouth to continue. “Look in the mirror,” you exhaled just as he pulled his shirt over his head.

He paused, doing as you said, his eyes widening when he got a look before a scream left his mouth.

“Just breathe, okay?” you hurried towards him before he panicked even more. “We’re gonna find a way to fix this, okay?” you grabbed his shoulders and he seemed to calm down a bit before you engulfed him in a hug.

“We’re gonna fix it,” he repeated, arms slowly wrapping around you. “I need to find Jenny”.

~

“That’s Cesar to you!” Rudy shouted at Jenny after she became the reason the Taco was ruined. 

You were all sat around the table after Jaime had driven off to go find Jenny to explain everything. You weren’t too pleased he left so suddenly, worry still raking through you from the day’s earlier event. You kept your anger under wraps, thankful to Rudy for laying it on them. 

A few moments later after hearing Rudy cry about the damage done to his truck, he came back in, fury still bubbling in his words. 

“I can’t believe you did that to my truck, after everything,” he cried. “This is all your fault,” he pointed at Jenny. “First, you put a bug inside my nephew and now my truck?!” he screamed, shaking his head.

“Wait, what’s he talking about?” Jenny darted her gaze around the table and Jaime sighed. 

“He means this,” he said, turning around and pulling his shirt over his head so she could see the blue and purple bug glowing along his spine, his flesh pink in the areas it fused to the creature.

“Oh my god,” the family shouted, Milagro gaging at the sight. You on the other hand had grown a quick immunity to the sight, your face straight as you stared at it.

“I’ve seen worse,” you and Rudy said at the same time and you shared a glance for a second before Millie butted in.

“Where?” she furrowed her brows. 

“You don’t want to know,” you said at the same time again, your gaze narrowing at him.

“What the hell is this thing?” Jaime pulled his shirt back down, leaning over the table between you and Jenny.

“It’s a scarab, given to my dad when I was a kid. It’s some type of world-destroying weapon,”  she shrugged, the sight of defeat written across her face aware that this news was not one taken well by the family.

“Great,” Jaime inhaled deeply, hands running through his hair as he walked into the kitchen.

“So did you know this was going to happen when you handed it to my brother?” Millie asked, shooting daggers at Jenny. 

“No! I swear I didn’t. The scarab isn’t activated by any person, it chooses you,” Jenny elaborated. “So that means it chose you,” she turned to Jaime, a look of disbelief on his face.

You were sitting silently beside everyone, arms crossed over your chest as you took in the information you were given. Emotions trickled through you, you were sure you’d experienced all of them at least once today, but hearing the words come out of her mouth, you couldn’t help but crack your stoic face and double over in laughter.

“That is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, you’re joking,” you managed between laughs, the family sparing glances at each other and Jaime placed a hand on your shoulder to check on you.

“Ignore her, she hasn’t slept since yesterday. Night shift,” Millie excused you.

“Are you sure she didn’t get the alien inside her? Seems like she’s going insane,” Rudy butted in, twirling his finger by his temple to say “cookoo”. 

“Ay, Rudy,” Rocio waved him off. “As you can see she’s a little out of it from the lack of sleep”.

At her statement, the laughing stopped and you straightened up, composing yourself with a clearing of your throat.

“I’m not out of it,” you defended. You were sure you slept a good hour this morning. “I’m just finding it a little hard to believe that there’s an alien inside my boyfriend’s body, bonding to him as we speak,” you exhaled. “It’s insane!”

“It’s okay,” Jaime reassured, his other hand coming up to massage your shoulder. “You said it chose me, so how do we make it unchose me?” he asked, turning back to Jenny who had a look of softness cross over her eyes as she stared at you two.

“I’m not sure. But if I can get access to the proper technology, we can figure out a way,” she claimed. “I just need a key. It’s located at Kord Industries though,” she said, face falling. 

“I have a way in,” Rudy said. “Come on, cabezon, we’re gonna get that thing outta you,” he pointed. 

“Okay, Jenny, Rudy, and I will go. You guys stay here,” Jaime said, mainly looking at you.

“Are you crazy? I’m going with you,” you shook your head, standing up to meet him.

“Y/N, you haven’t slept since yesterday. You should sleep,” he cupped your face.

“I’m not tired,” you pulled away from him. “You’re insane if you think I’m letting you go out on this without me,” you argued. “I don’t want to miss this,” you frowned. “You have god-knows-what inside you, I should be there,” you reaffirmed, glancing at the floor.

“She’s right, mijo,” Alberto sided with you and Jaime let out a defeated sigh. 

“Okay, let’s go,” he agreed.

~

The former Kord Estate was a magnificent abandoned haven. The secret passageway entering Jenny’s dad’s lab was insane and other-worldly. Nothing about this day made sense and you only hoped there was a cure so you could get on with your lives. 

After Jaime decided a better fit of clothes would be preferred, you followed him and Jenny upstairs. You were both shown into an empty bedroom, presumably a spare one seeing as it had no personal touches added to it. 

You were staring out the window while Jaime was in the bathroom when Jenny came back with a blue tracksuit be she left, a kind smile on her face as she departed. The door shut behind her as Jaime walked from the bathroom.

“I have accelerated healing,” he brushed his fingers over his cheek and you sent him a puzzled look. “Look,” he walked closer to you to show you his perfectly unbroken skin that was red and cut only a few moments ago.

“Hmm,” you hummed. “This is still too insane to believe,” you pressed a hand to your forehead, shaking out a laugh and your boyfriend smiled before pulling you in for a hug. “Does it hurt?” you asked, referring to the scarab.

“Not really,” he shrugged before he pulled off the muscle tee, leaving him shirtless in front of you. “It looks bad, but to be honest, it feels,” he paused for a second. “Normal”.

“That’s something then,” you wrung your fingers together, trying to sound as supportive as you could.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay, alright? We’re going to get it out of me,” he rubbed your arms reassuringly and you sighed. “I love you, you know that?” he rubbed his thumb along your cheek and you nodded. 

“I love you too,” you recited. “It’s weird,” you added, glancing around the room. “The silence,” you tilted your head, able to hear nothing. “I’m now realizing I haven’t had a moment alone with you since you got back,” you chewed on your lip, cheeks heating up.

“I mean, we’re alone right now,” he suggested, a knowing look washing over his face.

“I want to savor it,” you nodded, staring into his beautiful brown eyes.

“You can do whatever you want, mi amor,” he traced patterns on your hip with his thumb. 

“I really do need the distraction,” you licked your lips, gaze falling to his lips. 

“Same here,” he swallowed. 

“I think we have time,” you added, hands coming up to wrap around his neck softly. 

“We definitely do,” he agreed, one of his hands sliding underneath your shirt. 

🦋

With that, you both leaned in, pressing your lips together in a soft gentle kiss, one filled with desperation but screamed all the reassurance you both needed.

You ran your fingers through his hair, his hand squeezing your hip as he pulled you closer.

Living with five other people in a small house wasn’t as fun as it usually was. You shared a room with your boyfriend’s sister, your boyfriend was in another city for four years previously, and now that he was back, your schedules never coincided with your night shift. To keep things quick, you and your boyfriend rarely have sex.

His hands ran over your back, one hand finding its place on your waist while the other snaked up to cup your jaw. Your moans vibrated against each other as you pressed your bodies together, closer than before.

You pulled away, guiding Jaime to sit on the closest chair before you straddled his lap. Your kiss resumed as his hands glided over your ass and under your thighs while you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging on his curls. 

He made a move to take off your shirt and you followed through, leaving you in your bra until you got up quickly to shimmy your sweatpants off. 

“Fuck,” Jaime threw his head against the chair, frustration laced in his tone. 

“What?” you frowned, pausing in your movements. “Did you?” you led on, gaze dropping to his crotch. “It’s okay if-,” you shrugged, disappointment in your voice but his eyes shot open. 

“No! Not that,” his cheeks tinted with pink. “We don’t have a condom,” he explained, and you tilted your head up in realization. 

“Oh,” you said. “Well shit,” you exhaled. “So much for a distraction,” you bent down to pull your pants back up before you sat back in his lap, head resting against his shoulder. 

“Soon, baby, soon,” he mumbled into your hair as he placed a kiss.

🦋

You smiled, reaching up for a kiss before a knock on the door was interrupted. 

“It’s Rudy, I’m not coming in cause of last time, but we need y’all downstairs,” he shouted through the door and you couldn’t help but feel your face heat up at the thought of last time.

“We should go,” Jaime said once you heard Rudy’s steps fade away. 

You agreed, getting up to move and letting him change before you opened the door. Your boyfriend stopped you though, hand wrapped around your wrist, you glanced at him expectedly.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he said and you grinned.

“Me too”. 

~

Reblogs are the best!

[scary-grace]

if my heart was a house - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

It's been nineteen years since Tomura was sentenced to death, and you've built a life in the space he left behind, braced each day for the worst. You're prepared for everything - the questions your daughter asks, the memories that sting a little more in the winter, the specter of the news you've been afraid of for years. But of all the things life's thrown your way, it's the one you haven't dared to hope for might be the one thing you can't handle. (cross-posted to Ao3) The prequel can be found here: what I can't remember now written for @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday event! Banner/divider by @cafekitsune

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 1

You know even before you open your eyes that it’s snowed overnight. The world always sounds too quiet afterwards, and you used to have so many words to describe it – almost comforting, almost eerie, almost serene. But that was when you were young. Now you’d replace all those words with a different one: Empty. You used to love the winter, the first snowfall of the year, and you still do. But it always reminds you of him. And he’s gone.

He’s been gone for years now. The length of time you spent with him has been swallowed six times over by the time you’ve spent alone, and you’d like to think that even in the beginning, you wore your sadness well. Now, nineteen years in, it barely shows. You keep it buried through spring, summer, autumn – until the first frost, the first freezing rain, the first icicles on the eaves and the first drifts of snow on the ground, when it crawls free of the grave and sprawls on top of you at night. You met Tomura in the winter. Fell in love with him by spring. You got two more winters with him after that, and then he was gone, and nothing can fill the space he left behind.

But even if one chamber of your heart is frozen open for good, the rest is still alive. And there’s room for a different kind of love, a way for you to translate your grief rather than buckle beneath its weight. There’s a knock at the door to your room, and your daughter’s voice slips cautiously in. “Mom? Are you awake?”

“I’m awake,” you say, and you blink away the tears. “Come in.”

Even at eighteen, Chihiro still hesitates before she steps across the threshold, but once she’s made the choice, she throws herself onto the bed with abandon. “We got half a meter. That’s even more than the forecast said.”

“And we’ve still got power. Lucky us.” You wipe your eyes, just in case, and turn to face her. “Good morning, kiddo.”

“How long do I have to be kiddo? I’m almost done with high school.”

“Okay, you’re right,” you compromise, even as your throat tightens. She’s never met her father, never will, but the tone in her voice when she’s putting her foot down reminds you painfully of him. “What should I call you instead?”

“My name. You’re the one who picked it out.” Chihiro’s dressed in her pajamas with a hoodie thrown over them, and you can see her phone lighting up through the front pocket. “Don’t you like it anymore?”

“I love it,” you say, “Chihiro. Did you sleep okay?”

She nods. There’s something on her mind. You can tell by the way her brow furrows, and the way her mouth thins tells you that she’s planning to keep it quiet. Or that she’ll try. Chihiro has a hard time keeping her feelings inside. She and Tomura have that in common, but while you always gave Tomura space to figure out how to say what he needed to, you always let Chihiro know you’re aware, and listening. “What’s going on up there, Chihiro, my daughter who’s almost done with high school?”

She rolls her eyes, but a smile is pulling up the corner of her mouth. Her smile’s always been a little lopsided, but so has yours. “There’s only one morning of the year you ever sleep in,” she says. “The first time it snows. And then you’re different all day – not mad or depressed or anything. Just different. I was wondering why.”

“I’m sorry,” you say at once. “I’m not upset with you. It’s not anything you did. You could never do anything that would –”

“I know, Mom.” Chihiro’s crimson eyes are intent on your face. “It’s one day. You get to be weird if you need to. I just wanted to know – is it because of him? My dad?”

When she was little, you’d lie, and tell her the snow is so pretty that you can’t help but get emotional about it. There was a while where she didn’t ask. But she’s old enough now that you can admit it. You think. “Yeah,” you say. Your voice is steady. You’re proud of that. “This is around the time of year when I first met him. It brings back memories.”

“Good ones?” Chihiro settles into the pillows the way she used to when she wanted a bedtime story. “Tell me.”

You hesitate. “Not the gross stuff,” Chihiro clarifies. “I don’t want to know about that. Kaori’s mom tells her all about that stuff. And she bought her a vibrator for her birthday.”

“Huh,” you say after a second. “That’s sex-positive of her.”

“You’re being nice. What do you really think?”

You think she reminds you of Tomura. He never let you duck behind the niceties; he always wanted to know your real reaction. “I think it’s weird. Especially if Kaori didn’t ask.”

“She definitely didn’t. She’s really shy.” Chihiro grimaces. “I’m glad you’re not weird like that.”

Not weird is a good thing. Maybe. “You know I’m here if you need to talk about –”

“No, Mom. Gross.” Chihiro buries her face in the pillow. “Tell me about my dad.”

“Okay,” you say. “Your dad. He, um – there was something about him. I never met someone like him before, and I haven’t since. He told the truth about stuff, even if it wasn’t pretty, and he said what he thought even if it was a bad time. One time we went on a double date with one of his friends and their new boyfriend, and the first question out of your dad’s mouth was whether the boyfriend had drawn his facial hair on.”

Chihiro wheezes. “That’s awful,” she says, but she’s laughing – just like you were. “Had he, though?”

“We never got an answer,” you say, and Chihiro laughs harder. “Your dad could be a jackass sometimes, even to people he liked, but when it really mattered, he’d –”

Kill for them. You swallow the words. “He was there for people when they needed him,” you say instead. “He was always there for me. Even if he didn’t know the right thing to say, I could count on him to listen. And he never gave me a hard time for standing up for myself. Not even when we argued about things.”

You were sort of a pushover early on. You were worried that saying no would make you difficult, and being difficult would make him want to leave. It wasn’t how you were most of the time, or how you’d been before you and Tomura got together, and he wasn’t scared to call you out. You remember the grin on his face the first time you really put your foot down about something, set a boundary and held it. I knew you were in there somewhere, he said. This is how I like you.

That was something you loved about being with Tomura: You were good for each other. You made each other better. “It sounds like you were happy,” Chihiro ventures, and you nod. “Do you think you’d have gotten married sometime? Did you guys want kids?”

Married, maybe. Your friends and his all used to joke that the two of you were the old married couple of the group, but while you talked about the future, you almost never talked about marriage to go with it. Not until it was almost the end, and you never made it to the discussion, any discussion, about having kids. Your pregnancy was catastrophic because of what happened before it, but even if it hadn’t been, it would have raised a lot of questions that neither you nor Tomura knew how to answer. “We were really young,” you say. “I was only twenty-two. We hadn’t had that talk yet. But I think we’d have talked about it if –”

“Yeah.” Chihiro’s voice is muffled by the pillows. “Did he know about me? Before he died?”

Your stomach clenches in a tight, guilty cramp, one that’s been getting steadily worse over the years. “I didn’t find out until after he was gone.”

“Oh.” Chihiro’s voice goes small and wavering. “Do you think – um – do you think he would have liked me?”

There’s no way to know. That means what you say next isn’t technically a lie. “He would have loved you,” you say. Her shoulders shake, and you rest your hand on her back to settle her, the same as you’ve done since she was a baby. “Just like I do.”

Chihiro turns her head to look at you, her eyes glassy with tears. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” You rub her back in slow circles. “Ask about him whenever you want. I’ll always try to answer.”

“Do you miss him?”

Other than your daughter’s ragged breathing and your own steady, shallow sips of air, there’s no sound in the world. When you open up the blinds, you’ll see an empty snowfield, unmarked by human footprints for a little while longer. Footprints in the snow will be filled in by the next storm or melted away in the thaw, but the marks Tomura left on you are indelible. There will never be room for someone else where he stood, because he’s still standing there, somewhere you can’t reach.

Sometimes you’ve thought, selfishly, that it would be easier if he really was dead, just so you wouldn’t have to cope with knowing that he’s still out there, knowing exactly where he is with no way to get to him. You’ve let Chihiro think he’s dead. You tell yourself it’s easier for her this way. It’s better that she doesn’t know what really happened to Tomura. The fact that you know is bad enough.

“Mom?” Chihiro asks, and you realize you never answered her question. “Do you still miss my dad?”

You still love him. That’s the same thing. “I do,” you say. “Every day.”

Chihiro cries herself out, and then it’s time to get moving. Her school has a late start, not a snow day, and you still have to go to work. You make a special breakfast anyway, play the music you and she used to dance to when she was little, and soon your daughter’s smiling again. Chihiro doesn’t have trouble being happy, not like you and Tomura both did. Still do, probably. Your depression was just that, but the sheer weight of Tomura’s past regularly threatened to crush him, and you doubt the nineteen years he’s already spent in prison have done anything to improve things.

But Chihiro knows how to be happy, and you know, because she tells you when she’s not. You’re not naive enough to think your teenager tells you everything, but she knows she can talk to you. And she does talk to you, getting steadily back to herself as you eat breakfast and clean up and get ready, her for school, you for work. Then the two of you crunch your way to the car and start digging it out of the snow. The snowplows must have been out last night and early this morning, because the road doesn’t have much in the way of accumulation. You’ll have to be careful of ice.

You’re both a little sweaty under your winter coats when you get in the car at last. “I’m already gross,” Chihiro complains. “Why can’t we get a garage or something?”

“Where would we put it?”

“In your room,” Chihiro says. You snort. “Or in mine. Since I’m going to uni soon.”

Your heart sinks whenever she says that, but you’ll be damned before you let it show. “You’ll still need somewhere to stay when you come back,” you say. “Maybe we don’t really need a kitchen.”

Chihiro rolls her eyes. “What? You’re not planning to turn my room into, like, a sewing room or something once I go to school?”

"No," you say. "My parents did that when I went away. I hated it."

Looking back, you took it way too personally. They weren’t saying they were done with you, or that the place you’d grown up wasn’t home anymore. You were just hurting, and looking desperately for a reason why. Coming back on school break to find your room cleaned out was a good one. “I’m not going to do that,” you say to Chihiro.“Even when you live somewhere else, you’ll always have a place with me.”

Chihiro glances sideways at you. “Kaori’s mom is freaking about her moving away.”

“Kaori’s mom freaks out a lot,” you say. You and she should have bonded, because you’re the only single moms in this small town, but Kaori’s mom makes you nervous. “How does Kaori feel about it?”

“Her mom will be fine. She’s not worried.” Chihiro pauses for a long moment. “I am, though.”

Your grip on the steering wheel goes white-knuckled. “About Kaori’s mom?”

“About you,” Chihiro says. You reach a stop sign, come to a full stop, and turn to look at her. There’s a stubborn set to her jaw that’s all too familiar. “Kaori’s mom is crazy. But Kaori’s mom has a life. She goes out some nights and her friends come to visit and she has parties and hobbies —“

“I have hobbies,” you protest.

“Yeah. Your hobby means you hang out in the house all day,” Chihiro says. “You can't carry your sewing machine and all your fabric to a craft party. Maybe if you learned to knit or something —“

“I’m not going to knit.”

“Something,” Chihiro says firmly. “Something that means you’re not alone all the time. I’m excited to go to uni. I’m worried about what’s going to happen to you when I leave.”

You’ve fucked up, big-time. “Chihiro, I understand why you —“ No, you don’t. All you understand is that you were stupid to think your damage didn’t show, awful for making Chihiro think she has any responsibility for your mess of an internal life at all. “It’s not your job to make sure I’m okay. I can take care of myself.”

“It’s not about taking care of yourself,” Chihiro fires back. “It’s about being happy. You want me to be happy, right?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “I love you.”

“I love you, Mom.” Chihiro says it bluntly, unashamedly. “So I want you to be happy, too.”

You don’t know what to say. It’s quiet, and it keeps being quiet, until a car pulls up behind you and honks its horn. You refocus on driving in a hurry. With you distracted, Chihiro pushes the point. “You barely even talk to people, Mom. Kaori’s mom thinks you hate her because you never say yes when she asks to hang out.”

“I don’t hate her,” you say. Chihiro’s skeptical look skewers you to the seat. “Look, she’s just not — it’s complicated.”

“No it’s not,” Chihiro says. “Next time she asks to hang out, say yes.”

No. “What if I sign up for an art class at the community center instead?”

“Do that, too,” Chihiro says. You grimace. “You want me to be happy. I’ll be happy if I know you’re talking to other people and doing stuff that’s not in the house. I don’t want to come back on a school break and find out you’ve only been talking to the trees or something.”

She pauses. “I guess you can talk to them a little. As long as you don’t start thinking they talk back.”

“Got it.”

You drop Chihiro off at school less than a minute before the bell rings, but she still makes you get out of the car and hug her. She hugs really tight. She got that from you. Tomura used to complain jokingly that you were a boa constrictor in a girlfriend suit. You kiss her forehead and send her on her way, then get back in the car and drive to work, feeling even worse than you did when you opened your eyes to a snowy silence this morning.

Chihiro’s wrong about Kaori’s mom. It is complicated — not because you hate her, but because she’s the nosiest person in town, and because you’ve got a lot to hide. You didn’t mean to have a lot to hide. It was just something that happened, and as the years since Tomura’s conviction have unfolded, you’ve gotten steadily more attached to the lie. It’s not about you. It’s about Chihiro, who shouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that her father’s a convicted murderer awaiting execution in supermax prison, who shouldn’t have to deal with people looking at her differently. It’s about Chihiro. It’s not about you.

Or so you tell yourself. But there’s a reason you fled from Tokyo in the aftermath of Tomura’s sentencing, why you cut off contact with his friends and yours, why you dyed your hair and changed your phone number and nuked your social media along with every email address you ever had. People hated Tomura. And because you were with him, they hated you, too. It didn’t matter that you knew nothing. That the murders he was accused of committing took place before you met him. Even if you’d dumped him the second he was arrested, you’d have been called stupid for not seeing it all along. You couldn’t hack it. You were headed for a breakdown at high speed. But you would have stayed, if Tomura hadn’t told you to go.

The last time you spoke to him was after his sentencing, as they were taking him away. You seized his hands, already cuffed, his wrists chafed raw, and for a split second, he held on so tightly that one of your fingers broke. Then he looked up, hopeless fury in his eyes. Get out of here. Don’t come back. I don’t want you to watch.

You thought he meant he didn’t want you to watch him being shoved into an armored truck for transport, but when your letters came back unopened, when he refused to let you visit or even call him, you realized the truth. He wanted you gone, just as completely as he was gone from you. That moment in the courtroom was the last one you’d ever have with him. And that was what tripped the breakdown at last. You were throwing up too much to overdose and you were too chicken to try another way, so you went to the doctor to figure it out so you could kill yourself with your chosen method. You just wanted anti-nausea pills. The doctor did bloodwork, made you give a urine sample, and gave you a diagnosis.

“Hyperemesis gravidarum,” he said, and you looked at him blankly. “You’re pregnant.”

He expected you to get an abortion. Everybody and their mother probably expected you to get an abortion. If Tomura had been there, if your accidental pregnancy had been something the two of you were dealing with together, it probably wouldn’t have even been a question. And for any other pregnancy, it would have been the only viable option in your mind. But when you thought about it, about this pregnancy, your mind rejected the idea so violently that you threw up again. You couldn’t get rid of this baby. You needed it. Looking back, you know your reasons were terrible. You had a kid so you wouldn’t be alone. So you’d keep some memory of Tomura close to you always. So you’d have a reason to keep getting up in the morning, a reason to eat and sleep and exercise, a reason to find a new job in your new town and work hard at it. So someone would need you. So you could do something with your agony at losing Tomura, grab it with both hands and twist it back into love. Deciding to have the baby was the most selfish thing you’ve ever done. And raising Chihiro, loving her, is the most important thing you’ll ever do.

She’s right about you. You do live for her. And if that means signing up for a pottery class at the community center and agreeing to grab tea with Kaori’s crazy mom so she won’t worry, that’s what you’ll do.

You work in the combined billing/records/HR department at your town’s medical clinic, with occasional ventures to the front desk when a receptionist is out sick. You spend a lot of time staring at the computer, a lot of time on the phone, and very little time talking to your coworkers — but you’ve been here for seventeen years, longer than almost anyone else. You were working here before some of your coworkers were out of primary school.

Dr. Kawada is your age, though. He greets you as you walk in. “Glad you made it. Anybody who lives past the town limits is staying home.”

“They should. The roads are terrible even with the plows out.” You hang up your coat, then sit down and power up your computer. “How many patients do you think we’ll get?”

“We have a ton of cancelations already,” Keiko, the nurse-practitioner, reports. She would be the one to make it in — Kawada would crawl here with his teeth if he had to, and she’s his wife, so of course she tagged along. “And there was a call for you, bright and early.”

“For billing? Somebody must have been losing sleep.”

“Not for billing. For you,” Keiko admonishes. “I forwarded it to your phone. It seemed kind of urgent.”

You log into your computer, then decide to check the message while you’re waiting for it to perk up. The voice on the other end of the line is completely unfamiliar. “Hi there. My name is Midoriya Izuku, and I’m a lawyer with the —" There’s a really loud sound on the other end of the line, completely obliterating whatever he was about to tell you about the organization he’s part of. “Due to confidentiality I can’t share much over the phone, but it’s really important that I get in touch with you! Please call me back to arrange a meeting —“

You hang up and delete the message. You don’t like lawyers, and this guy sounds like he has prosecutor written all over him. Or else he’s a reporter lying to you about his credentials to trick you into giving him a quote. The twenty-year anniversary of Tomura’s conviction is coming up, and there were articles at the ten-year mark, too. You’re more concerned about how this Midoriya Izuku got your number in the first place. You’re not easy to find. You made yourself tough to find on purpose.

It’s a quiet day at the office. Almost all the appointments are canceled, which means that the walk-ins get seen almost immediately, and you have time to start on your end-of-the-year reports. And time to talk, because Keiko and Dr. Kawada are in talkative moods, and you’re the best and only target. “How’s Chihiro?” Keiko asks. “Has she picked a school?”

“Not yet. Still weighing her options,” you say. And then, because you’re tired: “She’s worried about what will happen to me once she leaves.”

“Tell her not to worry. We’ll take care of you!” Dr. Kawada says with a grin. “What’s she worried about, anyway? You seem fine.”

“I am fine. But I’m signing up for an art class so she’ll stop worrying that I’m going to wither away alone,” you say. Dr. Kawada snorts. “How I’m doing isn’t her responsibility. She didn’t ask to be born and I didn’t have her so she could take care of me.”

“Nobody thinks that,” Keiko says. She gives you a weird look, but then she changes the subject. “Hey, but even once she moves out, you don’t have to be alone! Me and Shogo know lots of people we want to set you up with!”

You’re pretty sure your face goes dead white. “What?”

“I mean, I know you haven’t been seeing anyone since you moved here —"

“Because it’s not about me anymore. It’s about Chihiro.”

“Yeah, but if it’s about Chihiro, shouldn’t you want her not to worry?” Kawada’s not helping. You feel like you might be sick. “I moved here right around when you did and I’ve never seen you date anybody. Things must have gone down real bad with your ex —"

“Shogo!” Keiko swats him, mortified, then looks at you. “Sorry. He should know better.”

“Chihiro’s dad isn’t my ex,” you say. “He’s — gone.”

It’s the same trick you’ve been pulling on Chihiro since she was old enough to ask, and it works on adults, too. Kawada backs off, chagrined. “Sorry,” he says. There’s an awkward silence. “I’ve known you for seventeen years. How did I miss that?”

“I don’t like to talk about it.” You don’t even like thinking about Tomura, but every winter, it’s unavoidable. Every winter the sadness curls up around you, and although time is supposed to heal things, it’s never gotten any easier to throw off come spring. “I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.”

“Yeah,” Keiko agrees. Her eyes are sad. “Still. Tell Chihiro not to worry. We’ll keep an eye on you.”

You force a smile, force your eyes to brighten. “Thank you.”

It’s the clinic’s slowest day in a while, and you spend a lot of it screwing around on the computer. You sign up for an art class, one that meets the same night as Chihiro’s choir practice, so you can pick her up on the way home. You google therapists, too — maybe she’ll feel better if she knows you have one. And maybe you need one. Chihiro’s your daughter, the most important person in the world, the one you’d sacrifice everything to care for. Caring for her takes up most of your thoughts, distracts you from the pain of losing Tomura. Once Chihiro goes away for school, there won’t be anything left to keep your sadness at bay.

Tomura’s been on death row for nineteen years. They could execute him at any time, and you’d never know until his name was released by the government. During his trial, when you realized the death penalty was on the table, you looked up how it would happen. It still haunts you sometimes. You don’t want to think of Tomura with his neck broken, his eyes open and staring, dying with feet chained together and his hands bound behind his back. You want to remember him before it all went wrong. Back when you still believed he was the best thing that ever happened to you.

You met him at university, on a day when the campus was iced over. Your on-campus job started early, which meant you had to make your way to the library on paths that wouldn’t be de-iced for another hour. Tomura had an early class. He was headed the opposite way from you, and you were both so focused on not slipping and falling that you walked headlong into each other and fell on your asses anyway.

Your backpack slid from your shoulders, and the papers Tomura was carrying scattered across the path. Fuck, Tomura said, with feeling, and you laughed. What’s so funny? You fell down, too.

I know, but — An image popped into your head and set you off all over again. We look like we’re in a cartoon. Except without the stars and planets around our heads.

No stars and planets? I want a refund, Tomura said, and cracked a smile that opened up a split in his lower lip. Damn it —

Here. You retrieved your fallen backpack and a packet of tissues, then started gathering the papers Tomura had dropped. Sorry. It looked like you were in a hurry to go somewhere.

Comp-Sci building. I’m never signing up for a 7am again. Tomura’s phone buzzed, and he yanked it out of his pocket. And now it’s canceled. Motherfucker. I have to walk all the way back —

Maybe not all the way, you said, and he looked at you. I work at the library. It’s definitely open. You can hang out there until they get the paths salted.

Tomura looked at you, the tissue still pressed to his bloody lip. You didn’t know his name yet, didn’t know anything about him, but there was something you liked about his face. Something you liked about how he still got in on your joke, even though he was pissed about the fall. Something about the fact that he hadn’t gotten up yet, even though you’d gathered all his papers and were holding them out for him to take. I’ll level with you, he said after a second. I’ve never been to the library.

I get that a lot, you said, and you stood up. The plan was to hold out your hand to help him up, but you moved too fast, and your feet slid out from under you again. You managed to hang on to Tomura’s papers, but you went down hard. Fuck!

Tomura didn’t ask if you were okay. He just lifted the papers out of your hands, set them aside, and helped you sit up with hands that shook ever so slightly. I’m surprised you swore, he said, and you raised an eyebrow. You look like the type who says fiddlesticks instead.

Fuck off, you said, and he laughed. Making him laugh felt like an achievement, one you were proud to win. Looking back, that was when you knew you were in trouble. Maybe we should just crawl to the library.

It’s cold. Walking’s faster. Tomura got shakily to his knees, then his feet, and you copied him. I bet we can make it.

He stumbled twice on the way there, and you stumbled once, but neither of you fell again. You were leaning on each other to balance, more contact than you ever made with guys you weren’t dating, and nothing about it felt tense or awkward. It was just the only thing that made sense to do.

And that’s how everything was with Tomura. It just made sense, and you were so happy — and you think Tomura was, too. You fought sometimes, sure, but everyone does. Sometimes you didn’t know the right thing to say, but neither did he. He had a rough past, and you didn’t push him to talk about it. You just let him share what he wanted to, when he wanted to, and towards the end you had something close to the whole picture. It just didn’t have the murders in it.

No. You don’t want to think about this. You know what you believe about this, and going in a circle won’t help solve anything. You decide to redirect your feelings of frustration by looking up the lawyer who called you. Sure enough, he’s a prosecutor— or he was. Looking at the profile on his law firm’s website, you’re not sure what he does. He was in the news a year or so ago. Some case involving the yakuza.

The bell rings, and since Keiko’s on break and the receptionist got snowed in, you hurry up to the front to check the new patient in. It’s a good distraction. It helps to stay busy. When you’re busy, you don’t have to think about any of it — not Tomura, not the fact that he’s gone, not the fact that your daughter is leaving soon, too. And you don’t have to think about how it won’t be long before all your distractions run out.

Chapter 2 ->

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Gen Words: 2.8K~ Summary: Not too long after making peace with Homeworld and sparking the start of Era 3, Steven wakes up one morning to discover some... notable changes about himself.

AKA: The one where Steven finally hits his growth-spurt. All at once. Because of course the half-Gem kid could never experience such a human thing like puberty in a "normal" way.

[Part 1 of 2]

Just a few seconds later, knuckles rap against the door in answer to his perturbed cry. 

“Yo Steve-o, that you in there?” Amethyst calls. 

“Y-yeah?” he stammers. His brows threading inwards, he delicately runs his fingers over the ridge upon his throat, very much thrown off by the distinctly lower tenor of the sound coming from his own mouth. He swallows hard, pushing himself to speak again. Come on Steven, he berates himself, think of something lighthearted. This doesn’t have to be a bad thing. No need to completely freak out over this yet. “Who else would I be? It’s not like the whole town uses this bathroom…”

“I mean, I do sometimes. For fun.”

“Okay, fair point, but—”

“Dude, what’s wrong with your voice? Are you like, sick or somethin’?“

“No, it’s just—” 

He squeezes his eyes shut, blocking out all the nebulous, spinning distractions of his mind and the world beyond. Deep breath. It’s okay. Tons of things about his form may be entirely different right now, but like… he seems fine. Right?? Nothing about his body feels tangibly wrong like it did when he willfully stretched himself out on his 14th birthday, or when he changed all his fingers into cats, or when he lost all control of his aging and morphed into an anciently old man and almost died, it’s just… 

New.

New and wholly unfamiliar.

So what now? How can he bravely move forward with all this? What does he need to know? 

“Have, uh… have you ever shapeshifted by accident in your sleep?”

“Not that I‘m aware of,” she says, and he can practically hear the shrug in her tone. “Shapeshifting is a conscious thing you do. It’s a choice, y’know? It doesn’t just happen.”

A good long moment passes as he drinks this information in. He runs his hand through the short curls at the back of his neck as he stands there in the pair of too-small banana yellow pajamas he fit in just fine last night, musing.

“Huh… I guess that makes things pretty simple, then.”

“What d’ya’—”

“Amethyst, I think I’m finally older,” he says, still absolutely mystified by this prospect as he gawks at himself in the mirror. 

She gives a fond laugh. “Ch’a, right? You get older everyday, bud. Wild.”

“No, I mean I’m actually, physically older! Look!”

Steven whirls around and swings the bathroom door wide open to show her. Amethyst’s jaw drops.

“Whoa—! Dude!”

Chuckling nervously, he steps a few feet out, wriggling his bare toes against the wood floor. “I know, right?”

“What the heck, you weren’t kidding!” Before he can even move to say anything else, she spins on her heels and cups her mouth with her hands, hollering towards the temple door. “HEY, PEARL! GARNET! You gotta get out here and see this!”

His brows shoot towards his hairline, his heart hammering in his chest all the while at the thought of all the dumb show-and-tell he’s gonna have to deal with now. “Aww, come on, did you really have to—”

“Amethyst!” Pearl cries, scrambling through the still opening gap in the doorway with Garnet striding mere steps behind. She summons her spear from her gem and swings it to fighting stance with an artful flourish. “What happened? Where’s the threat? What do you need us for??”

Steven darts towards them, hands held up in a placating plea.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! There’s no danger! We’re fine. I just—”

“Oh, my stars—!” she gasps, allowing her spear to dissipate in a glittery flicker of light. “You’ve grown!”

“Nice look, Steven,” Garnet nods, a supportive smile gracing her lips.

“And you’re sure this is real this time? You’re not—?”

“No, no, I’m not stretching myself out, I promise. I just woke up like this.”

“B-but—” Pearl taps her fingers against her chin, appearing thoroughly puzzled— “I thought humans were supposed to age gradually, not all at once.”

Steven’s shoulders slump. “Well… that’s what I assumed too, but—”

“Come, sit with me,” Garnet says, walking around the warp pad to enter the living room. She sets herself down on the couch, patting the cushion in open invitation.

With a heavy, far too weary for his age sigh, Steven shoves his hands in the pockets of his too-small banana pajamas and plods his way over. The rest of the Gems follow suit. He settles himself right next to Garnet, with Pearl perched opposite to her and Amethyst happily lounging on the floor, leaning on the coffee table with her elbows. 

“Steven’s aging hasn’t aligned with the norms of humanity for a very long time,” she observes, a glint of morning sun that’s beaming through the window catching on the edge on the edge of her star shaped visor. Then, turning to him: “I’m curious why you think this is.”

He hums, considering all the chaotic happenings of the past few years. Despite the rare query she poses, he gets the sense that… in her vast wisdom… she already knows the answer. Or at least, a small sum of it. It should be noted that her future vision— as far-reaching as it otherwise is with the vast possibilities of existence— can’t ever touch any knowledge that she won’t be conscious for or present to receive, let alone retroactively scry into the past.

(And honestly? Thank goodness for that.)

“I’m not sure,” he says, a half-lie.

He can think of one reason he might’ve started aging again. Though, it’s not something he’s ready to talk to the Gems about yet. It’s… far too delicate a topic to risk bringing up so soon after the start of peaceful Era 3. But after spending a whole childhood being constantly compared to and mistaken as various versions of his mom… let’s just say, having his gem torn from his body and getting to see it reform into a version of himself (and not her) was simultaneously the worst and the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him. While undeniably traumatic, this experience served as the ultimate proof that he doesn’t have to waste another second of his existence chewing away at some burgeoning identity crisis, that he can live his life however he wants. As Steven. Not as Rose, or Pink Diamond, just… Steven.

He’s not exactly sure how all this mental weirdness translates into him staying stuck looking like a little kid for like… six or so years, but after he returned home from his latest escapade on Homeworld, he could sense that— despite all the messed up stuff he and Connie went through— his spirit was lighter, somehow.

So maybe, he thinks, he simply had to peel away at all the damaged layers of his identity to ready himself to move on to the next stage of his life. Maybe he had to stare death in the eye and pass through the heart of the storm in spite of all these hardships before he could piece the foundational truths of his story back together and learn to finally live again.

To start shifting his hopeful gaze towards the dawn of their bright, sunny future…

“I mean, I always kinda thought he stopped aging because we never did,” Amethyst says then, laying her cheek on the table. “Like, it happened around the time you moved in with us, yeah?”

He purses his lips, scanning his memory. “Uh… I think so? It might have been a year before. Two, even. But I was definitely hanging out with y’all a lot by then.”

She leans over and playfully slugs him in the arm.

“See, there you go! You always wanted to be just like us when you were a kid, so much that you even wore that same ol’ star shirt every day to match ours, ha! You must’ve wanted to be a Gem so badly that you subconsciously stopped becoming older at all.”

“That’s actually a pretty solid theory, Amethyst,” Pearl chimes in. “Good thinking!”

“We have seen you shift your form in response to your perception of others around you,” Garnet says with a nod. “This has caused you to temporarily age and shapeshift in the past, but for you to age in a stable way now, your perception of self must have stabilized, too. I’m very happy for you, Steven.”

She tousles his mess of curls with her gold ringed hand, a welcome little offering of affection that he eagerly leans into.

And then, out of nowhere, Amethyst starts cackling.

“Dude,” she blurts out between her peels of laughter, nudging his foot with her elbow, “I just realized— Greg’s gonna totally lose his shit when he sees this…”

Pearl’s expression scrunches inwards with prickly displeasure. “Language!” 

“What, it’s true!”

He waves Amethyst’s comment off. “Pshhh, my dad’s seen way weirder,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Like, did I ever tell y’guys how the cat fingers incident ended?”

“No!” the quartz exclaims with intensive fervor, and leans forward in anticipation. “Gimme the juicy deets, m’man!”

Garnet adjusts her visor then, her features falling into a dutiful line. “Speaking of Greg… story time can wait until later. Steven— if you want to see your father this morning, you need to head over there now… or there’s a good chance he’ll fall back asleep until one and you’ll miss your window.”

Amethyst’s lips fall into a pout as she slumps back against the foot of the couch, her arms crossed. “Awww, phooey. Spoil sport.”

He swallows a grimace as he internalizes Garnet’s prediction. Yeah, that sounds about right. That’s become a bad habit for his old man lately, staying up super late and then sleeping in almost half the day on weekends. Ever since he received that ten million dollar residues check it’s nothing that can hinder his financials anymore, thank goodness, but then again…

“Yeah… I should probably go make sure he wakes up,” he mutters, pushing his tired body off his seat. “I’ll need his help finding new clothes, anyways.”

The second he’s up and moving again, Amethyst darts around him and snatches his spot with such swift and viscous drive that one might believe this ploy were her sole quest and purpose in life. She stretches out against the seat back with a big, dramatic yawn, crossing her arms behind her head as she speaks. 

“It’s too bad you can’t just… I dunno… summon whatever clothes you want out of light, like us. That’s like the biggest bummer of humanity, if you ask me.”

“And when do you ever experiment with your outfit enough to have a strong opinion about this?” Pearl prods, crossing her arms. “It took you almost a decade to fix that asymmetrical shoulder strap.”

“Well, P… I like to think of myself as a Gem who would experiment with my outfit. One day. If I’m ever really, really bored. Consider it an Era 3 aspiration.”

Steven rocks back and forth on his heels, absentmindedly fiddling with the fraying bottom hem of his pajama top.

“Okay, uh… well, I’m gonna dress to leave now, so—”

“Yeah, see ‘ya.”

“Send a text if you need anything!” Pearl says with a casual wave.

“And don’t forget…” Garnet begins, the ellipses in her tone practically visible with the naked eye.

He pauses in his dutiful march to the stairs— (a somewhat unsteady march… as it turns out, shooting up about a foot and a half in height overnight tends to impact one’s sense of balance for the worst, go figure)— turning back to intercept whatever life advice or future vision she’s prepared for him this time. 

She grins, flashing him a quick heart with her hands instead. “We love you!”

~~

Steven trudges across the hot sands to his dad’s car wash sans his favorite flip flops, trying his very darnedest to wipe away the developing grimace on his face all the while. 

A small segment of him felt overjoyed when he first saw his reflection this morning, eager to look his age and finally grow up alongside his human friends. But after struggling to find anything that fits him even halfway right in his wardrobe, his good mood has rapidly spoiled. There’s a decent few reasons for this.

Reason number one: his old sandals are at least two sizes too small. His heels stick out over the end now, and the plastic thong digs into his toes something terrible. He literally can’t wear them without giving himself blisters. Ergo, his bare feet right now. 

Reason number two: none of his jeans sit right around the waist anymore, plus they make him look like he’s waiting for a flood. (Though thankfully, he found a stretchy blue skirt buried in one of his drawers that will do the trick for now.) 

And perhaps worst of all… reason number three: with his newly increased height, every single one of his treasured star shirts have been turned into ill-fitting crop tops, putting his gem on full display. He’s not against the concept of a crop top, but it sure ain’t a look he’s passionate about for everyday wear. It just feels… too exposing. Like, what about winter?? He can’t bear his whole midriff in winter, he’d freeze, and like… get hypothermia, or something. And not only that, but the longer he’s awake this morning the more an inescapable, thrumming ache starts to settle within the deepest core of his body, like even his bones themselves— the stubborn things— dare to object to this abrupt growth spurt.

Just… ugh. What an annoying hassle all these changes bring.  

“Stupid shirt,” he grouses, tugging at the too-tight collar, “stupid sandals, stupid Gem puberty! Why, oh why can’t I ever go through human stuff normally?”

His bare foot catches upon a sizable stone hidden amongst the beach. On any other day he would’ve successfully broken his fall, stumbling forwards a few awkward steps before regaining his balance and continuing on his way. But with his body now so different, and his center of gravity entirely off from what he’s used to, he head plants straight into the ground.

Wow, he thinks, spitting sand out of his mouth and pushing himself back to his feet. How elegant. Truly the shining paragon of coordination and grace.

Thank goodness no one was watching. Next time he’ll just have to remember to float.

He arrives at his dad’s van with no further incident. The rear doors are— following Garnet’s prediction- cracked open. Dad’s awake, at least for now.

“Daaaaaaaad,” he hollers, cupping his hands around his mouth to project. “A really, really weird thing happened, and I kinda need your help!”

A few spare seconds pass, seconds filled with the rustles of shifting blankets, the sound of a book being shut closed, and his dad’s low murmurs. The doors swing wide, though not as wide as Dad’s eyes when they wander around their bright, sunny surroundings and eventually land square on him and his new look.

“Wh— Steven, holy smokes! Look at you!”

With an awkward chuckle, he scratches away at an itch at the nape of his neck. “Heh heh, I know, right?”

“You’re almost as tall as your old man! When did this happen? How did this happen?”

“Some point last night, I guess,” he shrugs. “I just woke up like this. But Dad—” he clings onto his arm with mounting desperation— “I need your help to find some new shirts. Don’t you have like… whole boxes of your old tour merch stashed away somewhere? I don’t wanna have to get rid of my star, I just— I just need a bigger size, or something.”

“Hmmm…” Dad muses, scratching at the scruff of his beard. “Well, maybe, but…”

“But what?”

“But if any of it’s still around, then it’s probably in Amethyst’s room. All of the stuff from the storage unit ended up with her, remember?”

“Oh…” he says, brows furrowed, not quite able to parse this fact within his memory yet. And then… 

Ugh. That’s right.

Two New Years’ ago. The huge mess of crates and mattresses and long forgotten belongings. All that ridiculous Little Butler nonsense. Amethyst’s fight with Dad.

“Oh,” he mumbles, crossing his arms. “Right. Well, then let’s go find it!”

“R- right now?”

“Yeah, why not? I need new clothes, and you could see if there’s any old junk in there you might want to keep!”

With that, he grabs his dad’s hand and yanks him along, spirit filled with renewed purpose and vigor.

“And you’re sure you need my help for this?” Dad asks, lagging a step or two behind him as they march back across the beach together. “The Gems, they… well, they don’t usually want me going into the temple—”

“Oh, Amethyst will be fine,” he says with a wave of his palm. “She never cares when I go in there to check out her trash piles. ‘Sides, I need your help to find the right box! I have no idea what your old band stuff was stashed in.”

His dad flashes a tight smile, the sort he always serves up when he’s nervous, but also too timid to tell him that he’s nervous.

“Well… if you think she’ll allow it…” he relents, and picks up his pace to match his.

~~

[End Part 1... more to be shared later.]