#it makes me so emotional bc ive been there and I know how much that step means

[lunarharp]

played dragon age 2...just simple scribbles

[vampirecatprince]

The fact that I've listened to Euclid HUNDREDS of times but it can still randomly hit just right and make me cry tho

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

no by all means keep judging cartoon villains solely by if they get redeemed in the end. i know some of us like to talk about other stuff like characterization or entertainment value or nuance as something that makes a good villain. but i think the only thing that actually matters is if the villain ends up on good terms with the protagonist at the end. all the Good TM cartoons with Good TM creators make the villains die a Horrible Death for being Abusers or whatever. and all the Bad TM cartoons with Bad TM creators Forgive Fascists by not making them get publicly executed by the 14 year old protagonist in front of the 8 year old target demographic.

i mean im so glad that more cartoons nowadays are subverting the psyop to support fascists that a few queer artists and queer shows definitely invented in 2017. there are so many popular cartoons doing that. it's almost like there are more properties killing their villains now and in the past than there ever were of properties that didn't do this. and it's almost like whether the villain gets redeemed at the end is more about the context of the story and its themes leading up to a narratively sound decision.

but you know. a few queer shows made by trans ppl were popular and they didn't kill their fascists and even had the gall to make them nuanced while also looking into the harm they did. guess it's trendy to forgive your abusers now because like two cartoons said so. out of like 40 other similarly high profile works that just straight up hit their villains with a bus or smth. by all means. keep heaping praise onto that one show about how they "let their villain just be evil" instead of talking about anything more interesting. that's so subversive, everyone's doing it!

[orcelito]

Thinking about using the journal I got for writing my dad's eulogy for trying to process my grief with it. The letter from me I found in his lockbox is still in that front sleeve, along with one of the memorial folders they had at the funeral.

I think I don't want to write it all on here. I think I've talked about my emotions too much as of late.

[whimsysalesman]

having Big Feelings in the tags. you neednt read them, but you should go drink water and stretch your eyes

[inhiatusfromlife]

.

[1hyunjae]

Just had the worst panic attack of my life

[twopercentboy]

,,,,

[yongseungkim]

.

[unimportantweirdo]

how am i supposed to just go about my day *without* my best friend

i've literally been around her 24/7 for the last 11 days how am i supposed to go back to being alone

[technicolorxsn]

,,,

[nianeyemystic]

💦💖 Sexual & Physical Compatibility Synastry 🤤

Soooo this post was inspired by one of my close friends. She's in a long distance relationship & was explaining how different sex feels with her new man. Now let me preface this and say

*not everyone will experience this synastry the same, that's okay these are just MY OWN obseervations. Ive been studying this for a few years now and so far - it tracks lol*

❤️‍🔥Mars-Venus Aspects❤️‍🔥

✨ Conjunction, Trine, or Sextile: These aspects show natural attraction and sexual chemistry. Mars represents passion, while Venus represents love and desire. You can find yourself becoming so intensely attracted to your partner. It's something we astrologers always look for, if you have these, you most certainly will know it by how your body reacts to that person being around you.

✨ Square or Opposition: These can indicate tension that manifests as fiery, passionate attraction but may need effort to balance. So yes, you will want to tear their clothes off every time you interact, but it can also be like unnecessary fights & explosive fights. You will need a sexual outlet.

❇️Mars-Mars Aspects❇️

✨ If Mars in both charts forms a harmonious aspect (e.g., trine or sextile), you may share similar sexual energy levels and desires. Which can lead to wanting the sex at the same time or being on the same page about what makes you feel good in the bedroom.

😍 Mars-Pluto Aspects😍

✨ This is a powerful placement for deep, transformative, and intense sexual attraction. I looooooveeeee seeing this one in couples charts. If you've felt like you can't explain why your body tingles around them, why you can't stop thinking about them? Why you're always wanting to be near them. You possibly have Mars - Pluto. The connection can feel magnetic and almost fated.

💋 Venus-Pluto Aspects💋

✨These aspects create an obsessive, passionate attraction. I say obsessive bc Pluto is involved. It can be healthy though, depending on how you express your obsessions. Like....don't stalk them, but be open about how they make you crave the. There’s often a deep emotional and physical bond that feels irresistible.

🧡Moon-Mars Aspects🧡

✨ The Moon represents emotions and Mars represents physical drive, so these aspects indicate a connection that blends emotional intimacy with sexual passion. I already did an entire post describing this connection in detail, so make sure you visit that one here:

💙Venus-Mars in Each Other's Houses💙

✨ When one partner's Venus or Mars falls into the other's 5th (romance), 7th (partnership), or 8th (sexual intimacy) houses, it can signify strong attraction and sexual compatibility.

💕 Sun-Mars Aspects💕

✨ Harmonious aspects (e.g., trine or sextile) between the Sun and Mars often indicate a strong physical connection. Challenging aspects can create a dynamic but exciting sexual tension. I like Sun & Mars bc sometimes it can feel invigorating & exciting when relationships seem to get dull. You'll always find the other person just enough of a challenge to keep your enticed.

💋Moon-Pluto Aspects💋

✨ This aspect creates emotional intensity and a deep, transformative connection that often translates into a passionate physical bond. I have sen this play out several times and it can be a beautiful bond that only you two will understand. So much so that you may even be willing to try new sexual things w this person, taboo sexual exploration. As long as the emotional connection is being satisfied, you will do anything to please your partner sexually.

❤️‍🔥Eros and Psyche (433 & 16)❤️‍🔥

✨Eros (sexual desire) and Psyche (soulful love) aspects in synastry can reveal where deep sexual and emotional compatibility exists.

💛 North Node Conjunct Venus or Mars💛

✨This placement suggests a karmic or destined connection where the partners help each other grow, often through romantic or sexual experiences. The friend I was inspired to make this post bc of this has this with her man. His NN is conjunct her Venus. she's expressed many times how his love feels like it is healing her, forcing her to grow as a divine feminine. I love this one, it also leads to sexual healing.

💕Bonus: 8th House Synastry💕

When one person’s planets fall into the other’s 8th house, it often triggers themes of intimacy, transformation, and sexual magnetism.

These placements and aspects don't guarantee compatibility, but they can highlight areas of potential connection and attraction. Always look at the full synastry chart for a holistic view!

Do you have any of these? Let me know below!

@nianeyemystic ✨❥

[red-doll-face]

I loved ur fic abt having to warm up with Arthur. He was so cute in it hehe. Imagine if he picked you flowers and brought them to you and was all shy and embarrassed about it ahhhhhhh🤭🤭🤭

hiiii !!! thank you so much for this wonderful ask!! ive had this in my inbox for forever so, soo sorry. 😳😳but i wrote something for this and a little self indulgent detail bc im on my period and was craving something super fluffy for my boy... i for sure included what you wanted but i added more situational stuff. I hope you like it!!!💖💖💓💓😭😭🥹🥹 @emerald-ranch thanks for giving me such a good idea for this piece queen, love you sm 💓💓 tags: fmc, periods vaguely mentioned, arthur is sooo sweet so fluffy, not quite an established relationship yet but theres something there 👀

(high honor) Arthur Morgan x fem. reader

Arthur shares his space with you when you aren't feeling well.

It was only a matter of time before you could stop hiding this little problem of yours. Before, you had hidden away; Abigail had let you stay in her big tent but when she got into a severe spat with John and she stopped sleeping there, you had lost your solution to this problem. You had told Ms. Grimshaw. You asked her if it would be alright if you stayed away from chores today. She raised her brow, the line of her mouth turned skeptical. She laughed at you, like she would a child faking a cough.

“What are you, the only woman in the world? You ain’t special. Now, get back to work! I don’t want to hear anymore of this belly achin’,” She seethes and you look down after you give her a weak nod. You look around nervously. You know that today will be bad. You just feel it. The squeeze in your lower belly and the nauseous unease in your stomach tells you so. You walk to the cutting board, bidding Pearson a good morning. 

“You look… pale,” Pearson asks suspiciously but you brush him off with a tight smile. You go back to chopping vegetables. The morning develops into a sweltering noon. The overwhelming smells of the camp and the morning chatter only put you in a precarious state. The last person you’d like to see you like this comes by, tells Pearson he’s going out. “That’s good, I was this close to ripping the leather off the boots around here,” Pearson jokes and Arthur scoffs before passing you, where you continue working sluggishly behind the chuck wagon. 

“You alright?” you slowly lift your head to look up at him. You don't even have it in you to shyly avoid eye contact with his sharp blue eyes and his look of real concern. You trail up the length of his body, up his gun belt and to his brown hunters jacket. 

“I’m sorry?” you ask, clinging to the edge of the wooden table. You turn your back to the produce you had been chopping, resting briefly against the support of the surface. You face him fully, even if it’s not the best idea if you want to keep hiding how much the pain is crawling down your thighs. It sears into your muscle, dripping like hot wax down your body.

“Asked if you was feelin’ alright,” he wants the truth out of you but you bite your lip. Ms. Grimshaw said she didn’t want to hear it, you aren't sure how much you’d like to discuss this with him. Disgusted or dismissive, either or both would only serve to make things worse. Arthur dismissing you like Ms. Grimshaw would have you about ready to cry, overcome by the disrupting emotions that always come over you at times like these. He looks you over, assessing your wellness maybe. It certainly isn’t in the wobble of your knee under your skirt or the pallid color of your face, a cold sweat breaking over your forehead.

“No — I mean yes! … I’m feeling ok,” you mutter, but you aren’t convincing anyone, especially not Arthur. He tilts his head and stares down at you. He’s absorbing details (the half chopped carrot you’ve been taking way too long to finish up with, your nails digging into the grain of the wood) and you do your best to smile and dismiss his badly hidden worry. You can still see the way he hesitates to walk away, shuffles his boots in the dirt, shakes his head just slightly. He’s right not to believe you. 

Weakness in your body begins to form, building up inside of you the longer you’ve decided to ignore this pain. It’s been burrowing holes through you all morning, for hours, you’ve stood upright, trying to keep yourself from slipping. But just as Arthur is about to wish you a good day and head to his horse to ride off, you clutch at your abdomen, bent over. As if you’ve been flayed open. Your pained moan makes him put a hand over your shoulder. 

“Jesus, girl, what’s wrong with you?” you can’t muster a response, too busy trying not to fall backwards. “You need to lay down?” 

“Please, I can’t…”

“Like hell, you can’t. C’mon,” he tries to guide you but your legs hardly move like his, and he doesn’t linger a second longer. He has one of your arms around him to help, holding you up. The other camp members watch curiously but you pay them no mind. Another wave of clenching ache, like a lance through your midsection, has you doubling over again. You shuffle along with Arthur who lets you sit on his bed. He urges you to lay down. 

“I don’t know what’s goin’ on wit’you but reckon some rest might help,” you clutch at your stomach, curling in on yourself. Arthur glances around, hands stiffly at his sides, unsure what to use them for. You can’t pretend not to enjoy the comfort his mattress offers, to lay down on something soft. Embarrassment has no place in your mind as you let yourself follow his direction. Surrounded by his things and his scent, you collapse ungraciously on your side. Every moment of agony makes you whine, close to tears. 

“You eat somethin’ bad? Pearson’s stew finally get the better of ya?” You shake your head, you gasp and let your eyes glaze over, unable to really converse with him. Your fingers tangle in his sheets. He cusses, calling for help. Abigail and Tilly rush over when he says your name. Abigail nods at Tilly. 

You can make out some pieces of their conversation, it’s all muffled as your pain drowns everything out around you. Bits and pieces of the people surrounding you filter in and out. You're sweating under your skirt and you have half a mind to feel bad for putting your shoes up on Arthur’s bed. His own kindness isn’t lost on you. 

You catch words here and there. Abigail mentions your monthly. She looks at you, as if thinking better of it. Perhaps you should be ashamed but all you can do is pant and wail. Tilly returns with a cool cloth for your forehead and something pleasantly warm to place gingerly on your stomach. The brief pleasure it brings you makes you relax a little. You fall asleep to the sun's glow through the thin canvas over Arthur’s bed and the smell of the earth, the lulled tobacco scent that soaks into his sheets. The smell of his hair on the pillow, the summer sweat. 

When you wake, sleep is a stone tied to your ankle, pulling you down until you wiggle free. You feel awful as you turn to see Arthur slumped in a chair at your bedside. His hat is pulled down low and he snores quietly. How he sleeps like that, you don’t know. It brings a small smile to your face, watching him doze off in the light of the candle lit at the table next to his bed. 

But the only reason he’s there is because he had given you his bed. Even when he could be using it. You can’t see much past the canvas flaps that had been lowered to keep the chill of the breeze out but you sense the evening blue. The lack of voices tells you that it must be far past dinner already. Maybe even an hour after midnight, you can’t hear much but crickets and the snap of firewood burning at the fire nearby.

Looking around more, you focus on Arthur’s tent. How strange, you had never noticed all of the little things he places around himself. Photos of people, a small flower. An honorable little picture of an older woman, his mother, you think. Your mother had always told you to look for men who loved their mothers. That detail twinges at the strings attached to your heart. 

You sit up carefully, a blanket that's been tugged over you falls away. He wakes as you make the smallest noise. Startling, he looks up a little, straightening his neck out. He clears his throat as he rolls his shoulders out, his jacket hung on the wooden chair he sits on. He puts his hat on his head, placing it back on top instead of tugged over his eyes. 

“Feelin’ better?” his voice is a little gruff with sleep and you don’t trust your own not to falter so you nod. You feel all of your memories come back, the pathetic whining and whimpering, like a kicked puppy. You sigh. Arthur nods as well. 

“I’m sorry, I took your bed,” 

“Ain’t takin’ if I put you on it. If I didn’t want ya on it, wouldn’t’ve put you on the damn thing,” he pulls a cigarette from his side table and strikes a match. He holds it delicately between his lips before he lights it, you watch as the flame flickers, to the tune of the wavering candle. He watches you from the corner of his eye. 

You try not to read into how he worded that. Want. You smile softly. “Thank you for… helping me,” your voice is nothing much but a whisper. “And thanks for letting me lay down here. I didn’t want to cause so much fuss,” the rags that Tilly prepared for you sit next to a bunch of flowers. Red and pink, little bunches of petals gathered around the stems, wreaths of blooms at the end of the stalks. You’d like to say something about them but you bring your attention back down to your hands in your lap. 

“Didn’t put me out or nothin’, I was out most of the day anyway,” He puffs on his cigarette, wavy mists of smoke coloring the air between you. “What was goin’ on with ya, looked like you was ‘bout ready to put your breakfast all over my shoes,” he chuckles, a playful glint in his eye.

You cover your face, rubbing and heaving a big breath. “I thought I remember someone telling you,” 

“They did… Abigail did. If it’s all that business, how come you don’t get like this all the time?” He seems genuinely interested in the habits of your menstrual cycle. You’ve never had a man take an interest in such a taboo topic. But you suppose most of the girls are open about their privacies, most feel comfortable sleeping in their underwear in the evening. You continue despite the warmth that rushes to your cheeks.

“Well— usually, Abigail hides me in what was her tent. But now John is in there and she can’t keep me from Ms. Grimshaw anymore. I’m sure she had something to say about my sleeping here today,” he shakes his head. 

He adjusts his legs to relax them further, leaning back and kicking them out. “She’s tough on you but I told her to leave well enough alone. You wasn’t gonna go back to choppin’ carrots like that,” you feel like you’ve thanked him enough. Where all of this comes from, you haven’t decided. The men here don’t pay you much attention and Arthur is always rather soft on the girls, all of you get greetings from him. But perhaps he does linger with you a while, asking if you’re okay. If you need anything; his low voice feels like his calloused fingers when it touches your ear. And you do give him sweet smiles. Everyone seems to think Arthur Morgan isn’t much more than a bitter old soul. But you watch and you see fluttering moments of his kindness. Like bursts of sunlight through a canopy of trees. 

He reaches behind himself to the flowers on the table at the back of his chair. He sniffs before handing them to you. “Brought these for you, saw ‘em while I was out huntin’, thought they might cheer you up a bit,” You take them from him, briefly touching his own hand. Shock gathers at the corners of your lips before they push back into a smile. The stalks are fresh and stiff, the scent of them naturally brightening. 

“Arthur, I… thank you, really,” he hums. Arthur plays with his cigarette, fumbling at it. You play with the thin velvet of the flower petals. “What are they?”

“Yarrow. Grow just about anywhere,” he means to humble them, to bring them down. But you hold them tighter. 

“They’re beautiful,” you catch his stare but you can’t drag your eyes away from him. Arthur doesn’t look away as he flicks the butt of his cigarette away, grinding it beneath his heel. Every second feels like ten and the minute could be an hour, ensnared by him. 

When he’s walking around camp, he squares his shoulders, marches with purpose. Now, he slumps forward. Tired or weighed down. He takes an uneven breath. “I- I think I should leave you to your own bed, shouldn’t I… But thank you again, I really do mean it,” you start to lift the blanket off of yourself. He opens his mouth. Like he wants to say something. You pause a moment. 

“What’chu talkin’ bout, you’re sick,” he says as if he thinks you’re being ridiculous. He motions to you with his hand vaguely.

“Arthur, I’m not- I’m not sick. It happens all the time. I think I’ve caused enough trouble today,” 

“N’ you can promise that you won’t go startin’ up again? Cryin’ and rollin’ around?” 

“I’ll be fine,” Avoiding his eyes as you say that isn’t what you should have done if you wanted him to believe you. 

“You’re lyin’,” You bring your shoulders up before dropping them. Twiddling your thumbs, the flowers in your hands become your focal point.

You give an idea some thought. Sharing a bed with Arthur Morgan isn’t the worst idea you’ve had in your life. The rumors that would circulate make you think twice. Neither of you would hear the end of it. The camp in which the Van Der Linde gang resides isn’t a place without a gossip mill. But… you trust Arthur. If any of the men, you trusted him. With your life, you knew you could.

Putting Arthur out of his own bed isn’t something that appeals to you at all. 

“It doesn’t seem right, taking your bed. I’ve been in it all day, I could move over if you like,” it’s your clumsy attempt at humor poking fun at your own imaginings. But he doesn’t smile. 

“You mean that?” As if you pressed the very air from his lungs, he dips his head low, hardly breathes. He stares down at the dirt, before he sits all the way up. He turns to you, something you’ve never seen pulls at his features. Makes his brow scrunch and his cheek pull in like he’s chewing on it. 

“Do you want me to? To mean it?” Your head is full of hot air, dizzy at the thought. You set the flowers down on the crate behind you. Your hips lift and scoot to make what little room you can for Arthur’s frame. You had always known he was quite big, wide shouldered. Nothing makes you realize that more than the way you turn on your side to fit him. You’re in a dream, you must be. 

One you don’t want to wake from. You soak up his warmth, listen to the sounds he makes. Arthur arranges himself so awkwardly it could make you laugh if you didn’t fear breaking this trance he’s in. You bunch your hands up close to your chest, tucked into his shoulder. The wind playing with the flaps of canvas around you distracts you enough to let him settle.

The black hat he wears everywhere sits on the table, he rubs one of his hands over his cheek, down his jaw. “You’re alright with this?” 

“I trust you.” There isn’t much room in his bed, you don’t even know how he sleeps in it comfortably with him being as long as he is. But maybe he doesn’t. He comes back to it most nights though. He came back to it tonight, even if he knew you were sick and that he’d want to make you stay in it. You squeeze into Arthur’s side. 

He scoffs like he has something funny to say about your words. In the dim candle light, his chest rises steadily. This close to his neck, you can feel his pulse pick up, like yours as you come to your senses. You are sharing a bed with Arthur. There's a tightness in your belly, fingernails dig into your palm. 

“Thank you again, for letting me stay,” you whisper but you forget that you’re facing his ear. He hasn’t once turned to look at you. The smallest tremor goes through him. The tiniest details of him become more apparent to you. A nicked scar on the bridge of his nose, sweat beading on the tanned skin of his throat. His brow pinches and his eyes stare at the bottom of his make-shift roof. 

“S’ no problem, now… jus’ sleep, will ya?” you nod, trying to keep what fraction of space you can between you but you give up, pressing your cheek to his shoulder. 

“Goodnight, Arthur,” you murmur, humming as you sink comfortably next to him.

“Night,” his stiff response makes you stifle a giggle. Relaxing into his bed, you sigh. Even if you’ve been sleeping for most of the day, you still find it again quickly. 

In the morning, the bed is still warm but you’re alone in it. In the haziness of sleep, you can hear scratching and some shuffling, the jingle of Arthur’s spurs as he pulls the flap open and slips out. You open your eyes more when you’re sure he’s gone, the quiet command he gives his horse to go.

On the table, is a note, white smooth paper, smudged with black powdery pencil lead. You pick it up gently before reading it, the gray morning light lets you read. You touch gently at where he started and crossed out his words twice before starting again.

‘Hope you feel better today. You can hide in here if you need to.’ 

You smile as you go back to your small space amongst the girls with your two prizes. A bouquet of yarrow and a pretty note signed by Arthur Morgan. 

just what the doctor ordered for meeee so sorry if this isnt really your thing but thanks for reading !!💓💓💖💖🥹🥹

[syluss-karaoke-teacher]

Love and Deepspace - Nightly Rendezvous - Part IV, Sylus

And finally we complete the series with Sylus' card!! I admit, I kinda dreaded him bc alongside Raf he is my main and his card was so breathtakingly emotional, not to mention pretty much canonically their first time. Hope I was able to do it justice!

Word count: 2539 words

MDNI! Main text under the cut. You have been warned.

NOTE: This fic is only posted on tumblr and on AO3 under the pseud Yuli_Hunter. All other uploads on any other websites are non-authorized. I do not own any part of Love and Deepspace as an IP, but I do own this piece of fanfiction, and you are not allowed to repost it, copy it or otherwise claim it as your own.

That's it, enjoy! ❤️

Tags: reader!MC, fem!reader, PWP, fingering and oral (f!receiving), PIV, mentions of overstimulation, Sylus is king of consent, emotional sex, first time together, yes I make all of them eat MC out what are you going to do about it?

Not beta-read we die like Grandma

You point the gun at his chest with a victorious smirk.

“I won. Now for my prize, Mr. Crow.”

Sylus chuckles, the sound rumbling deep from his chest as he raises his hands in mock surrender. His crimson eyes reflect the crackling fire that illuminates the living room.

“Fair and square kitten. Ask away.”

The tension between you two is so thick you could almost grasp it with your hands. In many ways it is not unlike your first ever meeting. Back then you hated him, hated everything he represented. Then you thought you hated him, and then wished you hated him.

And now��� Now you hate that you ever hated him.

You still don’t know why Sylus decided to meet you the way he did, but you aren’t naïve enough anymore to believe it’s solely because he is the boss of Onychinus. The discoveries you have made along your journey have made you painfully aware of just how incomplete your worldview was.

The man before you is a killer and a criminal, yes. But a monster he is not. After all he has shown that he is capable of changing and learning from his mistakes; if not for anything or anyone else, then at least for you.

That is why the famously impatient and easily bored man waits for you, his silver eyebrow arched in a silent question, not pushing or prompting. As he has done from the minute he heard you despised him.

Sylus has no problem embarrassing you: he enjoys seeing you squirm and blush, whether due to walking around in little more than a towel hanging precariously from his sinful hips, or due to the sudden tenderness that he slips into your everyday moments together. He doesn’t hide his gaze raking over your body as you try on a new designer dress he bought for you, and if you ask him directly he will tell you in no uncertain terms just how beautiful you are to him. Yet despite the intensity that oozed from his very being, he always stopped at just the right distance. If you so wanted, this night would end like your nights so far had always ended: in separate bedrooms, with you getting more frustrated each time.

Well, not anymore. If you wanted to play the part of a big, fearless hunter, you should be able to manage this much of an offensive.

“I’m getting tired, Sylus.” To emphasize your words, you fake a yawn and stretch.

Sylus lowers his hands and cocks his head to the side. “That doesn’t sound like a question, sweetie.”

You pointedly ignore his jab, place the gun on the table and lay your hands on his shoulders instead.

“Can you take me to bed?”

There’s a sharp flash in his eyes, and you watch as his whole being refocuses on you. His muscles tense ever so slightly, and you see his Adam’s apple bob before he answers you.

“I thought you wanted to know my destination for tomorrow.”

For an outsider that would be a perfectly normal question. But to you, the only one that Sylus has let this close, the quiet raspiness in his voice tells you everything you need to know; the great leader of Onychinus is in the palm of your hand.

You slide your fingers up the sides of his neck to cradle his face. The crackling of the fireplace isn’t quite enough to drown out the quickening of his breath as you lean in closer.

“I’d rather live in the present, so I won’t dwell on a situation beyond my control. So… will you?”

Sylus’ answer is an unsteady exhale before he tightens one broad arm around your waist. You loop your arms around his shoulders as he lifts you off the couch and starts walking towards the master bedroom. His hand on your thigh almost burns through the flimsy fabric of your loungewear set, and his other hand gently turns your head towards him as he passes through the dimly lit corridors. He doesn’t break your gaze for a second, not even as he settles you on the ground between the loveseat and the bed.

“If you want to go to sleep, you need to release me,” he murmurs, making no move to pull apart. You look up at him coyly and press your body against him. Your head barely comes up to his chin, and you can feel his heart thundering in his chest.

“What if I don’t want to let go of you?”

Sylus smirks, but you see that the corner of his mouth quivering. His hold on you tightens again and he turns you both around before nodding towards the loveseat.

“Then I can keep holding you until dawn,” he says and runs his hand up and down your spine. The heat in his gaze is unmistakable now, and yet he doesn’t act on it. The man who forced you to fire a bullet into his heart the first time you met would now rather rip that same heart out with his own bare hands rather than make you uncomfortable.

The sweet tenderness makes you ache, but right at this moment a feeling far more intense demands to be let loose.

You bring your hands to Sylus’ chest and push him onto the loveseat. He lets out a small, surprised huff as you climb onto his lap and cradle his head once more in your hands.

“Then hold me,” you whisper, only inches away from his lips, “until dawn and beyond.”

The small kiss is all it takes for the dam to break. Sylus moans into your mouth and winds his arm tightly behind your hips and his other hand behind your head, locking you in place as he takes the lead. Sylus’ kisses are all-consuming and feverish, with no room for hesitation. You had been confident that he would return your feelings, but the sheer intensity of his actions leaves you breathless.

When your lips are red and swollen he finally pulls away, only to press a line of kisses along your jaw and neck. His hands run along your hips and ass and pull you flush against him. You whine as you feel the outline of his hard cock against your clothed core. He rocks his hips experimentally against yours.

“Is this okay?” he asks as he kisses your earlobe, “you’ll tell me if you want me to stop, right kitten?”

You answer by kissing him deeply. For a moment he lets you grind against him, but then pulls you back and looks at you with seriousness you didn’t expect.

“I need you to say it: ‘I will tell Sylus to stop whenever I want to.’”

You study his face for a moment, and that tender aching in your chest simmers to life again.

“I will tell you to stop whenever I want to,” you echo back to him. “Now take me to bed.”

You gasp as strong hands grab your ass and lift you up as effortlessly as picking up a kitten by its scruff. Sylus’ lips latch onto your neck and the twinge of pain as he sucks on your skin sends a jolt of electricity down to your core.

Sylus sets you down on the bed. His massive frame blocks the ceiling light almost completely from view. It makes his eyes shine even brighter, and you feel your breath catching in your throat. You lift your fingers to gently trace the corner of the eye wherein his Aether core resides.

“Am I greedy if I say I want you to only look at me?”. Sylus isn’t using his power on you, but you can hear your innermost thoughts raging in your head, nonetheless. They form only one name, one target.

Sylus smiles. It isn’t teasing or arrogant as his usual smirks; your question seems to delight him.

“You have always had the right to demand it, kitten. Which means you can be even greedier now.”

He lifts up your hips and grinds your core against his. You whine as he rocks himself against your silk shorts, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide the wetness that soils your panties underneath. The friction of the fabric against your clit makes your toes curl and you squeeze Sylus’ arm in response.

“Sylus…” you groan between kisses. The world around you grows hazy as your brain struggles to give orders to your body. You want everything from him, all at once, but the words die on your tongue and morph into moans and gasps instead.

Luckily there is an end to Sylus’ self-control after all. Just as you think you can’t take it anymore, he leans his forehead against yours and looks at you so reverently it forces your addled mind into focus once more.

“Do you want this?” he asks. This, meaning him, on you, inside you, tonight or for all eternity?

“Yes. All of it. All of you.”

A twinge of energy skitters along your skin as Sylus’ Evol surges from his fingertips. In seconds both of your clothes fall apart, covering the bed in black tatters. Before you can so much as squeak Sylus flips you over and settles you onto his chest. You gasp at the feeling of your bare pussy pressing against his firm chest. He spreads you wide open and strokes the skin of your thighs with his thumbs.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop once I get to taste you,” he says as his fingers slide closer to your center. “So I’m hoping your answer won’t change.”

You shake your head and let your eyes fall close as Sylus strokes your glistening folds with the calloused pads of his fingers. He stays away from your clit, making you whine from frustration. He chuckles and you slap his chest in retaliation.

“I need to hear what you need, sweetie,” he replies as he catches your hand and brings it his lips to kiss it. “Your pleasure is my pleasure. Whatever you want me to do, I will.”

He pushes your hand backwards past your hips. You blindly reach behind you and shudder as you feel his heavy cock resting against his abdomen. The slight touch makes him sigh and you watch as a beautiful flush rises on his cheeks as you gingerly stroke him.

“See how little it takes? Just the mere opportunity to be able to please you has made me this way. So believe me when I say this, kitten… You are allowed to ask anything of me.”

Your breathing struggles to flow as you take in his words. Your thighs tremble at his sides as you finally swallow your hesitation.

“Your mouth, Sylus… I want you to use your mou—”

The rest of the sentence is drowned in a pitiful wail as Sylus pulls you forward onto his face. You hastily brace yourself on the headboard as he pushes his tongue inside you. You can feel his nose bumping against your clit as he eats you out like a man starved. Instinctively you rock your hips against the divine, soft heat of his mouth. You feel him groan against you, his hands gripping you even tighter to block out any notion of pulling back from your position.

“Sylus, Sylus, oh god…” you whimper as you try to stay upright. You feel so incredibly wet it’s almost humiliating, but the relentless pressure makes you forget any rational thought as you fast approach a high you have never experienced before. You feel Sylus take his other hand from your hip and maneuver it under you, and before you can ask him if he needs a break you feel him slide his middle finger inside your pussy. He changes his position to focus more on your clit as he rubs you from the inside. The change in pace makes you howl.

“Please, please, oh god, feels so good Sylus, please, I’m—” you babble and grip the headboard with white knuckles. Stars swim into your vision as your body tenses to a breaking point. When Sylus pushes another finger in your mouth falls agape in a silent scream and you crash over the peak. The orgasm rolls over you like a tidal wave, and if it wasn’t for the strength of Sylus’ hands you would collapse entirely.

You feel like floating when Sylus lifts you up and flips you over onto your back. He wipes his glistening jaw with the back of his hand as he stares into your eyes with a hunger that hasn’t been satiated in the slightest. You let him manhandle you into spreading your legs for him, hands pressing your things apart and down, his cock dragging itself against your glistening pussy.

“More,” he whispers as he squeezes your thighs almost painfully. “Please, let me hear it. Tell me you want it too.”

You watch as his cockhead catches onto your entrance before sliding forward once more. You feel yourself clenching around nothing as you image him inside you, claiming you, filling you to the brim. You are still quivering from your high as you plead him to take you, all of you.

The moment you give him permission he takes it to heart again. He pushes inside you slowly, lets you adjust to his size, his broad chest heaving with the effort of holding back. His eyes are glazed over with both want and something soft, something you don’t dare yet name. His figure becomes unfocused as tears well up in your eyes from the almost painful fullness.

“Sylus, it’s too much,” you gasp, and he kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Just breathe, almost there.”

By the time he has pressed himself in to the hilt of his cock your head is trashing against the pillows and your pussy is leaking around him in a desperate effort to ease the intrusion. Your mind grows hazy once more as he starts to rock into you, and you could swear you feel his cock nudging your goddamn throat at this point. Just as you think you can’t take much more you feel Sylus’ fingers rub tight circles on your clit.

“Let go sweetie. You can cum as many times as you want. We have the whole night after all.”

And with that he pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, his cock pushing straight against the sweet spot inside you. Your world goes white as you shatter around him.

This time he doesn’t stop. He fucks you like a man possessed, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you as you fight to stay coherent. Only your fourth one proves too much for him and he finally spills inside you with a long, shaking groan. Even then it’s merely a moment’s distraction. His cock doesn’t even soften inside you: instead, he fucks his seed deeper into you while shaking from overstimulation. You tell him with a failing voice that he too can stop if he wants to, but your only answer are blunt nails pressing crescent moon shapes into your hips as he carries you both deep into the night.

Tell me you want it.

I do, Sylus. I want it all.

[haerni]

OH MY GOD, “who is he? ”

summary: feels like you’re fallin’ deeper & maybe you’re going crazy, right? does he want you or not? he’s so confusing!

ft. park sunghoon (based on ‘OMG’ by newjeans!)

content: fem! reader, tooth-rotting fluff, a lil bit of hurt comfort, sunghoon is that confusing guy, mutual pining, reader is a bit embarrassing i think? sunoo your support system! 1.8k words

— very very minimal proofread and editing bc ive only done this in one sitting (help me).

( 🍃 ) notes: this took me so long omfgsbks but here we are with my very first content on this blog, please be nice TT sunghoon might be ooc saur.. theres that! can u tell i love sunoo, i have to sneak him in. maybe the story will jump for awhile so sorry for that also.

you've probably liked PARK SUNGHOON for almost half of your life.

ever since he sat with you at the swing from the park you used to go to when you were kids and offering his own comfort when you were crying on that day, to this day forward when he offers his shoulder for you to cry on.

he never questions the reasons behind your cries, he never pushes and all he does is sit there and offer you whispers of solace that you take to heart.

because your best friend wouldn't want the worst for you.

because all he does is care for you.

and maybe—just maybe—you hate him a little for it, for doing things that make your heart flutter, for simply just touching your hair and pulling you closer hoping that it will quell the sadness that consumes you. or when he would walk with you home after his practice despite being tired and run down to the bones, he would never miss a day. or when he would call you such sweet things like you are together when you aren't.

or when one time he heard through jay how someone was making passes on you and disgusting comments about you, he comes home with a bruised lip and wounded knuckles. he refused to let you see him, not until you forced your way to his room with the first aid kit his mother let you borrow, because he also wouldn't let her treat him.

or when you can't even pretend to be okay in the sea of bodies in a party and he notices right away. he drags you by your hand and drags you out of the party without a care for anyone. he only tells you that he hates the party and would rather eat out in a convenience store nearby.

he holds your hand tightly, you knew that night you loved park sunghoon more than you could ever imagine.

a decade into your friendship, you fell in love with your best friend, park sunghoon.

you did your best to hide it, to keep these emotions at bay and lock away into the very bottom of your heart. you swallow the bubbling feeling in your throat whenever he's close. you did your very best to preserve the relationship the both of you built together. even if all you wanted was just ruin it and become something more.

loving park sunghoon was easy, it was easy as the breeze that touched your hair, it was easy as falling into a routine of living and looking forward to days when he's with you. the prospect of loving sunghoon comes naturally and you don't know how to stop it. it just grows more everyday and suddenly you find yourself in garden of flowers blossoming in your heart, so much that's its starting to flow out little by little and you're slipping, you're heart is becoming unguarded, the walls you've spent all your life building is chipping away slowly.

it's becoming suffocating, it's hard to breathe around him.

the passing touches, the stolen glances and brief silence has been occurring more and more.

it's only a matter of time, before someone catches on. unfortunately, that time is right now.

"what's with you and sunghoon, lately?" your friend, sunoo asks, "did you guys have a fight?"

a second passes before you answer him, "we did not. why do you ask?"

sunoo sits closer to you and puts his face on his palm, "you have been avoiding him."

you stopped, "no, i'm not."

"it's lunch and you're sitting here with me in the library, working on an assignment that's not due until next week, when you usually never miss eating when he comes by our room to eat with you." he pointed out.

too specific. were you that predictable? and when you don't answer sunoo realizes something. when his eyes widen too much for your comfort that's when you interject from whatever train of thought he had.

"or maybe—"

"i don't know what you are talking about, sunoo."

"you're avoiding him.."

"i already told you, i'm not—!"

"sure, keep telling yourself that." sunoo snorts at that, "i know you like him and not how a best friend should."

you can't breathe again, you were absolutely done for. because sunoo was right, he got the answer right and you couldn't find it in yourself to quip back at him. you can't find it in yourself to deny and brush it off, because it's simply not real, it's not what your heart is telling you. maybe, that was your last straw.

maybe that was all it needed for you to let out your heart just for once and face the reality.

you don't want sunghoon as a best friend.

the realization hits harder when someone utters it out, because you have lived all your life hiding and suddenly, it pours out like rain after a long unending drought.

now here you are. in the porch of your house under the moonlight with you encased in sunghoon's arms, because you were stupid enough to go out and try to forget about him, to go see other people and hope that you can lose all these feelings you have for him. it didn't, maybe it never will. a boy, somehow he's the same height and stature as sunghoon it was enough for you to agree for a dinner out.

it was stupid to begin with. you didn't even know this guy's name (you can't even bother to remember). because while you sat there and tried to engage with him, your mind drifted far on how he does not have the same moles as sunghoon, he does not make you laugh like sunghoon does, maybe he would've took you out to that ramen place you always go to after a long day instead of this fancy restaurant that you don't even know. quite sure enough that guy only talked about himself, you didn't listen.

"so are we going?" he gives you an all-knowing smile and as you try to turn him down a voice comes in.

"she's not going with you." you look behind, and there he stands one hand in his pocket wearing a white button-up shirt that you haven't seen before, a cold gaze accompanying it and his hair done all too perfectly—like he was on a date.

"hey! who do you think you are?" sunghoon ignores him as he offers his hand to you. tilting his head in question. you did not hesitate to grab it. it's almost a curse for him to know when you need him the most.

you can feel the heat rising up in your body as he intertwines both of your hands and gives it a squeeze.

he brings you home, like how he promised your dad when you were sixteen.

you bite your lips in hopes of suppressing all the emotions running down on you. but you can't really do that in front of sunghoon, can you?

you broke down.

and sunghoon was there—it was enough. it was enough for everything to pour out.

"i'm tired, hoon." his arms tighten around you, burying his face to your hair, almost as if he's kissing it in comfort.

you're tired? is it because of that guy? should he beat him up? you wouldn't like it anyway, so he erase the thought. park sunghoon has never hated anyone more than that jerk right now. he curses that stupid guy who made you like this.

"i hate you park sunghoon."

"you don't mean that."

you don't.

"i really really hate you." you were probably the worst to utter such words to him. to your best friend, to sunghoon out of all people. but you can't stop. "you're so stupid, stupid."

it takes him back, he didn't expect for you to be mad at him. he's silent for a moment as he continues to hold you like you're going to disappear.

"how am i stupid, baby?" there he goes again with those stupid nicknames.

you refuse to look at him, burying your face to his nape. and when you don't answer he talks for you.

"do you hate me that much for you not to look at me?" you really hate park sunghoon.

he sighs at the lack of your response. he shakes his head before he turns his face closer to your ear, "what am i gonna do, baby? you hate me, but i like you so much."

what? what the fuck?

that makes you widen your eyes processing what he just said as you sit up straight and facing him. and it makes him laugh a little, he probably shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. not when you're this adorably looking at him like you can't believe it.

"don't joke about things like that park sunghoon!"

wow, using his government name? "you don't believe me?" you don't answer. "why do you think i came to that awful restaurant wearing this shirt?" you knew it was new, you've never seen him wear it.

"because you want to fit it?" you answer.

"that too," he laughs, "and because you didn't eat lunch with me, you didn't walk home with me. i heard from sunoo, that you were out with someone and you didn't dress up because of me. you were on a date and it wasn't me. you were avoiding me, baby."

he looks at you and it hurts because both of you are a fucking idiot. all this time, sunghoon liked you.

park sunghoon likes you.

"how long?" and you can't help it, you have to know.

he thinks for a second, "hm.. since when you were on that swing? i thought you were pretty." he smiles so easily.

oh my god.

you buried your face once more, not really knowing what to do, because for the longest time you thought you were the only one feeling this way.

but sunghoon understands, he continues to talk, "jay thinks i'm obsessed with you. he's not wrong, you know? you don't have to say anything right now, i know you're having a har—"

you kissed him. park sunghoon is really an idiot. how can you not like him? how can anyone not even like him? he's so stupid. sunghoon's eyes widen a bit, but melts into your touch as quickly.

god, was this really happening? please don't ever wake him up if this is a dream.

you pulled away for a breather and he reached for another one causing you to block his lips with your hand.

feeling the blood in your cheeks, flustered as sunghoon kisses your palm instead. his hand coming up to yours to remove it.

"can i kiss you again?" you were going to die, "please?" you're sure of it.

"no!"

sunghoon laughs at that. you can't feel it, but his cheeks are really hurting now from smiling. maybe one day you'll let him kiss you more, but for now this is enough.

he has loved you almost all of his life.

𖹭 likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! i hope he is not too out of character :')