#it really means a lot to ME that you care about him so much

[kitimeq]

✿‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ say yes to heaven 🤍 sylus 秦 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ✿

pairing ✿‧₊˚: lads sylus x reader

summary ✿‧₊˚: 3+1: three times Sylus suppresses his desire to have you, and one time his control finally snaps. sprinkled with relationship fluff, size difference, love confessions and whole lot of overthinking from our fav crow boy.

word count ✿‧₊˚: 13.6k (a whole ass freaking novella, grab a snack.)

tropes ✿‧₊˚: 18+, 3+1, smut, but packed with feelings, fluff, est. relationship, body worship, plot with porn??, love confessions, sylus is obsessed, and so in love, first times implied, p in v, size difference, (by size difference i mean sylus is freaking huge, like a mountain of a man, so big it actually makes him nervous bc u so small, every single one of us would be a small dot next to him that’s my personal headcanon, have you seen his ib memory? yeah, yeah u have this man HUGE), anyways what is protection they don’t use it don’t be like them, needy sylus, pet names, everything is consensual, awooo.

author’s note ✿‧₊˚: hello! i was cooking this one for so much time, i hope it’s not too boring! I’m not a native speaker so i apologize in advance for all mistakes or repetitions. I was also trying to write inclusive y/n and i hope i succeeded. I also did not imagine y/n to have a specific body type — i truly believe that no matter your size, next to sylus you would look like a crumb. as small as a pebble. believe me, i’ve studied the sacred texts (night of secrecy, grassland romance, innocent birdcage do i really have to keep on listing the memories where he enormous u get the gist). so!! i hope you’ll enjoy it ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

!!do NOT read if you’re not 18+!!

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ ݁

Sylus usually considered himself to be a patient man.

He occasionally did act on his desires—he could admit that much—but when it came to the things he truly cared about, the things he treasured, he didn’t mind the wait. He knew that the best things in life came at a price, and if the currency was time, in this case he was willing to pay in full. He knew it was worth it. That you were worth it.

You, who accepted him as he was, with all his flaws and imperfections, making his life better every day you were together. You, who were so brave, gentle, and kind that you made him want to become a better man too—just so that one day, he could say he truly deserved you. You, who he had completely fallen for, unable to imagine a world in which he wouldn’t make the same choice of courting you all over again.

That’s why he wanted nothing more than to treasure and respect you in every aspect of life—including intimacy and his own desires. And to be perfectly candid, he had plenty of those from the very moment he laid eyes on you. But he wanted to act like a gentleman, never rushing you into anything. He was patient, waiting for you to make the first move. He wanted to be sure you trusted him, that you weren’t afraid of him—or of the things he wanted to do to you if he ever got the chance.

And even after several months of officially dating you, he still stuck to his resolve, despite the unhealthy hunger growing inside him. He was adamant that you make the first move, even though the waiting was slowly killing him from the inside—his desires burning through his skin, desperate to see the light of your glossy eyes, to feel you squirming beneath him, and to hear your soft moans and whimpers, letting him know that you wanted him too.

He wanted you passionately. He didn’t desire anyone or anything else in his life. He had never thought of anyone else in such terms, which made the wait much more bearable, fun even. The occasional tension in the air only made things between you even more intriguing. Sylus wondered when the moment would come for you to finally let him explore you, taste you, just as he had wanted since the first time he held you in his arms.

He was a patient man. An inquisitive one, but patient nonetheless.

But it was just getting too much for him to handle lately.

He wondered if you were doing this on purpose. Were you trying to make him go feral with want, push him into some action? Maybe you were just too shy to ask for something more, and decided to coax him to take you right then and there? Was it an act? A part of your meticulous, sneaky plan?

He felt his sanity slowly dissipating.

“Sylus? Please, hurry up and help me, we have to go!” You turned your head to look at him, your lips puckered in an adorable pout, and your feet anxiously shifting from one to the other, the sound of your beautiful black heels clicking against the floor of your apartment. The red soles didn’t go unnoticed by him.

And what didn’t go unnoticed as well was how breathtakingly gorgeous you looked, dressed in your tight black gown that accentuated the figure he was obsessed with.

However, he was a strong man. He could look at you in a dress and not get an instant boner; he wasn’t some mere beast. But when you asked for his help, he realized that life hadn’t prepared him for everything you had up your sleeve.

Because right now, you stood before him, your back turned toward him, holding your hair in your hands and exposing a zipper that you wanted him to take care of. A zipper that ran from your neck down, down, down to your red lace panties, which peeked out from beneath the unzipped black material.

He turned his head upward at the sight, his hand reaching for the bridge of his nose, a silent prayer escaping his lips. If God existed, He was not merciful this time.

He could also clearly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, the soft skin of your back exposed, slightly hidden under the material of the dress. Hadn’t he suffered enough?

He wanted to bark. Badly.

Oh fuck, was he really going to bark?

He hoped not.

“Sy?” The nickname almost made his legs buckle. He needed a moment to calm himself after just one look at you, and it seemed to take him much longer than what would be considered natural. The impatience in your voice betrayed your desire not to be late for the opera performance, which he had promised to take you to today. He gulped audibly and realized that you had no idea what you were doing to him—and that scared him.

If you were this dangerous unintentionally, how will he survive when you’ll finally, consciously decide to take things further?

“Yes. Yes, of course, sweetie.” He managed to choke out and stepped closer to you, your delectable scent overwhelming his senses. He tried to hide the slight tremble in his hands as he reached for the zipper at the bottom of your dress. When he zipped you up, he took his sweet time caressing your body with his knuckles, basking in the soft feeling of your skin and the dangerous touch of the lace of your panties. He hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat—or see the pink in his cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time he had blushed, but now he was sure of it, judging by the warmth on his face.

He was hopeless. Utterly ruined.

“There you go.” He said quietly, caressing your beautiful hair with his fingers, smoothing the creases which appeared after your hold. He brushed it from your neck and planted a slow kiss there, his movements far too composed for someone who was boiling with desire inside.

“Thank you. I couldn’t reach it at all and we’re already short on time.” You put your hand on his head, patting it gently and sighing when he touched your waist. He couldn’t help but squeeze you there, feeling the warmth of your skin through the soft material of your dress. You understood this gesture as teasing and giggled adorably.

“You look magnificent, my dove.” The compliment slipped through his lips, earning him your sweet smile and a kiss on a cheek. He watched as you passed him to grab your purse, going straight to the front door, leaving him behind. Trusting he’ll follow your step, as he always did.

Sylus closed his eyes and touched the very spot on his cheek where your lips had grazed, releasing a sigh that could be interpreted as both contentment and a silent prayer for endurance.

“You coming, Sy?” He could hear you calling for him, and he opened his eyes. His left one shone brightly at him from his reflection on the window. His Evol proved useless when his body already made it abundantly clear what—or whom—he desired the most.

“I fucking wish.” He whispered under his breath, turned around, and walked up to you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as he reveled in the weight of your body pressing against him. His ears were graced by your little squeal, that quickly transformed into uncontrollable laughter, a sound he wanted to record and play every time you were away.

You slapped his back playfully and joked about wanting to use your legs once in a while, and he laughed, saying that he just wanted to make sure that he had all he needed with him. Then, he grabbed his coat with his Evol, and used it to slam the door after you both went out. He hoped that the lust he felt, which started to get out of his control, managed to stay behind them.

He waited for so long; how hard could it be to wait for another couple of months?

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Hard.

Tremendously hard, both theoretically and physically, given the reaction of his body upon the contact.

He shifted slightly so that you wouldn’t feel his growing bulge against your core, his hands hovered over your thighs, his cheeks flaming hot. He was about to fucking pass out.

But you were none the wiser, sitting on his body, strangling him with your soft, mouth-watering thighs, practically rubbing yourself against him, and performing your little dance of victory after pushing him to the ground during your sparring.

Normally, he would have laughed with you and treasured your moment of happiness, his senses overwhelmed by pride as he watched you get better and better at self-defense with every practice.

But that was just cruel.

Not only did you showed up in that little piece of fabric covering your breasts, something you dared to call a sports bra, its thin straps reminiscent of a fish net, offering NO support whatsoever for your charms, but you also dared to wear that pair of leggings you claimed you had bought with your friend during your last trip to the mall.

And they were leaving nothing for his imagination, your every curve hugged tightly, every dip deliciously emphasized. And fuck, you looked gorgeous in wine red. You knew you did.

“I got it in your color! Do you like it?” You asked upon entering his gym, twirling for him like the most adorable fucking thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing, your arms up and your hair still untied. He did saw red, and it wasn’t just the color of your clothing.

His color. His girl in his color, he was going absolutely feral.

“I do.” He choked out, and tried to avert his eyes from your posture but lost that battle quickly. “You look stunning. My little gem.” He answered and you dared to look at him sheepishly, your face showing the signs of getting flustered.

“I’m not just a gem anymore. I’m a professional fighter.” You playfully punched his shoulder, jumping around and mimicking boxing moves, making him laugh out loud as he grabbed your fists in his hands. He pulled you closer to him and kissed your forehead, his arms wrapong around your frame.

“Is that an apology in advance?” You asked him when his lips left your skin. He smirked, his brow raising.

“Might be. Today we’ll be practicing attacks and knocking down your opponent.”

“Me? Knocking you down?” You looked at him with disbelief, your hands dropping to your sides, already defeated. “I’m doomed. Sylus, can’t I knock down Luke or Kieran instead?” Your cute pout and hands clasped in a begging gesture made him laugh again, as he fixed the bandages on your hands.

“And you think they would be easier to conquer?”

“Yes. Obviously, yes.”

“But they wouldn’t make sure you’re not going to hurt yourself, kitten, and I already know your patterns…” He leaned over you, his hot breath caressing your ear, making you shiver. His hands avoided touching your body. “And weak spots…” A whisper and a gentle bite on your earlobe were enough to send your adrenaline soaring.

“You—!” You jumped from him, like a little kitten, your face flustered and gaze filled with playful threat. “You’re going down mister. You’re SO going dooown.”

And down he went.

Right under your soft body, squashed between your warm tights, looking up at your beautiful lips twisted in an adorable, cunning smirk.

Oh, the way he loved you. The way he wanted to have you. The intensity of that feeling started to suffocate him.

“Okay, you got me, sweetie.” He choked out and tried his best to sound as nonchalant as possible. But nothing about this situation was nonchalant—your soft tights squeezing his waist and your butt pressing on his weak spot almost made him see stars. He grabbed your waist to try to stop your body from moving and gritted his teeth, fighting with himself to not buckle his hips up. “Now, up. I admit defeat.”

Defeat that had to do with the improvement of your skills and the force of your little fists, yes, but also with the way Sylus was distracted by your body, his eyes wandering everywhere during the battle, but not the places he should actually pay attention to.

Apparently, he was a weak, weak man, when the situation concerned you. Weak and impossibly horny.

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I want to.” You answered, a mischievous glint adored your gaze. He drank that expression in.

Beautiful. You were absolutely beautiful, sitting on him, your body sparkling with sweat, face red from the exhaustion. How could he keep his mind from going places? “I think I like you like this.” His eyebrows went up, and cheeks felt a little bit too warm for his liking.

What were you trying to say?

“Yes? Like what, kitten?” His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. He knew that you could feel it, one of your hands rested on top of it, stroking his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin through his shirt. He shivered, his body covered in goosebumps, finding the gentle touch too intense, somehow.

“Towering over you.” His breath hitched, his heart almost stopped its beating. “It’s much easier to look at your face when I’m like this. It’s nice.” His heart squeezed instead, your confession turning out to be more touching than teasing, and he cursed himself internally for belittling your interactions and intimacy lately. His mind immediately assumed sexual undertones, where everything you were doing with him, at your own, unique pace should be more than enough for him.

“You like looking at me that much, huh?” He answered, his hand going up to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. He smiled with content, and he put his hand at the nape of your neck, hoping you’ll understand the implications.

You did. Not a second later you lowered your body so that you were lying on top of him, one of his hands holding you to himself by your waist, pressing you even closer together. He acknowledged how much he loved your full weight on his body, your hearts pressed so close to each other they started beating as one.

You put your hands on his cheeks, smiled down at him, and pressed a small kiss to one of his eyelids, and then to the tip of his nose. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling.

“Of course. You’re my beautiful boy, Sylus.” You whispered to him, a smile adoring your face and he couldn’t help himself. He pulled you close by your neck and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, almost whimpering into your mouth from the intensity of his feelings.

You reciprocated the kiss, not hesitating even for a second, and soon, both of your lips were swollen and glistening, your minds filled with sparkles and cotton.

You were the one to break the kiss, your mind going dizzy, body trembling from the arousal. He could feel it without using his Evol—the desire that raised within you, the fire that now flowed through your veins. His eyes sparkled with anticipation.

One moment and you’ll go pliant against him, melting into his embrace.

One second, and he’ll finally taste heaven, be as close to you as anyone ever has been.

“Y/N, will it be alright if I—” He started speaking, your eyes looking at him from above as you held onto his cheek and neck, caressing his skin with your thumbs, making him feel oh, so cherished. Yet, he didn’t manage to finish the request because a sudden crash from the door opening pierced through the silent room, popping your comfortable bubble in an instant.

You jumped out of his embrace, leaving him cold and yearning, his hands sliding over his face in frustration.

“Boss—”

“Luke, Kieran it better be fucking important.” Sylus hissed through his teeth, and the fact that he didn’t even try to hide his frustration made you huff out a laugh and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. You didn’t want to laugh at him so openly, hiding how adorable his anger towards boys seemed to you at that moment.

His eyes caught yours, lured by the bubbly sound, and one of the corners of his mouth went up slightly. He raised his hand to your covered mouth and brought your hand down with his fingers, revealing your smile.

“It is, Boss! The Girm Company chairman called and demanded a meeting in thirty minutes.” Luke said quickly, Kieran peeking out from behind his shoulder. “And he didn’t want to take “no” for an answer.” Kieran added, his body now revealed.

You were not sure if Sylus was even listening, his eyes glued to your face, his fingers tracing the line of your smile absentmindedly. He still didn’t raise from the floor of the ring, his posture relaxed, one arm now resting behind his head.

“That bastard.” He answered under his breath, and closed his eyes in annoyance for a second and when he opened them, they were once again glued to you. “If you don’t want me to leave just say a word.” He said, and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. The back of his hand started a slow caress of your cheek, and you felt embarrassed, knowing that the boys were still looking at you both, waiting for Sylus’s answer.

“It’s okay, Sy. I actually have some errands to run in Linkon so I better get going.” You answered, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his fingers. His breath hitched, eyes following the movement with a longing deep in his chest. “Besides, I’m tired of beating your ass today. Save some dignity for the next time.” You added with a mischievous look, poking his hard chest with your finger teasingly.

The laugh that came out of his chest was sudden—loud, deep, and so sincere that it warmed your chest, your lips spreading in a proud smile. He grabbed your hand off of his chest and brought it to his lips, kissing your fingertips. The mirth in his eyes clearly visible, the affection bare and tangible.

“You are so generous, sweetie. Letting your pray off the hook so easily.” He couldn’t stop smiling even when he was raising to his feet, his hand going to massage his left shoulder. He looked at you and offered you his hand, which you immediately accepted. He helped you stand, his eyes tracing your every move, still unable to look away.

Your body entranced him, your presence lit a fire in his veins. The point where your hands touched warm and almost overwhelming. His desire for more once again proven unquenchable.

“Boys, let him know I’ll be there. It seems that I need to remind him who actually is in the position to make demands.” His voice was now authoritative, followed by the boys’ exclamations of “Will do, boss,” along with two salutes send his way.

And they were gone just as quickly as they had appeared.

“Don’t be too harsh on the chairman. I don’t want to get in the way of your business.” He saw you turn to him with a worried expression on your face, and he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering on the spot for much longer than necessary.

“Hmm, I’m afraid that’s impossible.” He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles, looking deep into your eyes. The sadness of you parting ways already blooming inside him. “They cut our time together short, so I’m planning on making them pay for that offense generously.” He smirked and watched you shake your head with disbelief, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I already miss you.” He heard you saying and you surprised him by throwing your arms around his neck, then kissing him almost senseless.

He closed his eyes and returned the kiss, which was starting to border on filthy. His hands grabbed your frame, pressing you closer to him, as his body bent toward you.

When you parted, your breaths were hot and heavy, a string of saliva still keeping your mouths connected. He stared at the filthy sight, his heart pounding in his chest, his boxers starting to become a rather tight fit. You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away gently, your fingers trailing downward until they grazed his abdomen. He gulped audibly and remained still, watching you walk further and further away. He didn’t trust himself to move even an inch, afraid he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself anymore.

“Bye, Sylus. I’ll let you know when I get home safely.” You told him, walking away backwards now, your eyes not leaving his. “And we’ll continue what we started next time, okay, Boss?” The last part a whisper from your sweet lips, almost making him drop to his knees right then and there. You waved at him, shyness visible on your cheeks, and then you left him in the middle of the ring, stunned and filled with excruciating desire to finally have you.

Next time.

He groaned, his hands covering his blushing face, his mind already imagining the things he’ll do to you, only if you let him. God, he hoped that you’ll let him.

He did arrive late to the meeting that day, having to compose himself for much longer than you would have expected. He also made sure the chairman regretted keeping him away from you—your softness, your scent, an addictive drug he never wanted to be deprived of. The audacity to take that from him deserved nothing less than the highest of punishments.

He couldn’t help it, he already missed you.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Sylus could write poems about his beloved, listing all her remarkable qualities and quirks; however, not once would he describe her as elegant and composed.

You usually were a tornado of various emotions, a temple of the things you cherished, your expressions lively and loud, honest and unrestrained.

You were also a bit clumsy—an occasional stumble, a bump to your limb now and then, or a broken glass wasn’t anything that Sylus hadn’t see you do before. He often worried about you and your safety, with new bruises appearing on your body from bumping into things or a piece of glass piercing through your delicate skin. Sometimes, he wished he could protect you from yourself too, but all he could do was press a kiss to every small injury you sustained from your hectic movements.

All bumps aside, he utterly adored that quality of yours. Every time he caught you acting awkwardly his chest seemed to shrink on itself, his heart squeezing, cute aggression overcoming his senses. You were just so adorable in those moments, the sight always reminding him of a little fawn, beautiful but uneasy on its feet. His craving to grab you and hold you in his arms, protecting you from the whole world, was strong; the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, then to kiss you senseless, even stronger. You were his little chaos: wonderful in your unexpectedness, extraordinary in every sense of the word.

Needless to say, he was used to your adorable clumsiness. He loved it.

That was probably why his brain stopped working when you proved to be everything but clumsy while playing the games at the local funfair. Your moves sure and precise, your gaze locked onto the targets, your body positioned exactly how it should be in order to gain the reward you wanted—whether it was a new plushie, a funky gadget or even some snacks.

And he had to say that this new, confident, borderline cocky behavior you were displaying was making him feel some things.

“Wait, let me try this time.” You said the first time he couldn’t score the prize, the claw mocking him relentlessly, wounding his pride.

You got that plushie in one, excellent attempt.

“Let me get that for you, Sy.” You proposed later, seeing him eyeing a figurine of a crow that reminded him of Mephisto. You were able to get not only that, but also a coupon for a food stall that served the best waffles you’ve ever eaten. As for Sylus, the sweetness of the treat paled in comparison to your blinding smile, with whipped cream still staining the corner of your mouth. He swiped it away with his thumb, then licked the digit, sending you a wink in the process.

He took pride in your blush, especially when making each other red that day started to feel like a competition between you two, whether you were aware of it or not.

“You want this one? Say no more, handsome.” Your words almost making him choke, your hands already grabbing the controls, your body bending over the machine, offering him a wonderful view of your ass. The tips of his ears immediately started to feel as if caught on fire. Even though he knew that you were teasing him, the pet name sounding foreign from your lips, he liked the feeling of you taking the initiative.

He also couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering, your body presented to him in a way that felt illegal to watch. He swiped his gaze up from the nape of your neck to your shoulders, taking note of your delicious-looking waist, perky butt, and thighs, which seemed lonely without his hands squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.

The cheerful sound of the machine made him snap back into reality, just as you were looking over your shoulder, sending him the most sexy, oh so sexy, proud smirk he ever saw in his life. He smirked right back, even though his legs felt disturbingly like jelly.

“I’m starting to think you enjoy this.” He remarked, grabbing the prize from your hands once again, the rest of your treasures already sitting comfortably in the back of his car. You send him a mischievous smile and fixed your hair, your fingers threading through the strands, the smell of your perfume reaching him once again during that night.

He wanted to devour you.

“And what’s wrong with that?” One of your hands grabbed his bicep, holding on to him as you started your lazy stroll in search of yet another entertainment. “You always get me things. And since I know now that you suck at these games, I have a perfect opportunity to return the favor.” He laughed at that, his hand moving to flick your forehead.

“I don’t suck at these games, all of them are tempered with, sweetie. I actually find it astonishing that you are so good at them.” His reply kind of soothing his wounded pride, his mind once again remembering your movements from before. The way you moved with confidence and grace, the little smirks and winks you send his way. His blood started to boil several stalls ago, and it hasn’t calmed since. “Makes one wonder about the extend of your abilities.”

The new, cocky, and self-confident side of you aroused him almost to the point of him grabbing you by the waist and taking you to his car, taking advantage of his tined widows.

“It all comes down to having a good strategy, as someone once taught me.” You said, repeating the words Sylus is always saying to you during your training, a mirth lacing your tone. How he adored you.

“Wise counseling you have here, kitten. You must have a fantastic teacher, if his lessons are proving to be useful anywhere you go.” The smile not leaving your face making him never want to look away.

“Oh, yes, he is. And an eye-candy too.” You touched his nose with the tip of your finger teasingly while he laughed. He stopped walking and turned to you fully, his arms closing around your waist, bringing you to him, close enough for your bodies to touch. The height difference always made him dizzy, with your head fully tilted upward in order to catch his gaze.

“Mm. Maybe that’s a quality he learned from you.” His tone quiet, one of his hands going to touch your cheek, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip. You appeared stunned. “I cannot think of someone sweeter than you. If he’s a candy, you’re one delectable dessert.” He whispered, his eyes going from your eyes to your lips, their reddish tone reminding him of a little cherry. He was fighting with himself not to put his hands on your ass, and squeeze the flesh that you kept pushing his way from the very beginning of your date, or not to place a kiss on your smart little mouth, which kept sending him these playful smirks all day long. He knew that if he started here, he would not be able to stop. No one would be capable of separating him from you, public place be damned.

His desire boiling inside him, threatening to melt his vessels and pour from his body, enveloping you in a tight, pleasurable embrace. He felt feverish, your body pressed to his giving him all the warmth he ever needed, molding his thoughts to fit only your frame.

You were perfect in his eyes. Your body, the perfect shape for him to hold, your face the only one he wanted to remember. And the way he felt when he was with you—so immensely happy, so carefree, so right—was a feeling he had never even dreamed about having. Your banter, little jokes and witty comments made him so at ease he never wanted to stop talking to you, afraid of depriving himself of even a second of the comfort you brought him: the knowledge that he could speak his mind freely, for you understood him beyond the limitations of language. By your side, he could be himself, the thoughts in his head quiet, giving way to expressing himself in any way he wanted. His little taste of heaven: the time you spent together.

He loved you. So intensely it used to scare him, but now he was offering himself willingly, no longer afraid of rejection. Even though you both still didn’t acknowledge it out loud, the feeling lingered in the air between you — a delectable sweetness, a comforting fragrance.

He wanted you. Body and soul. Soul and body. He liked to think he already had your soul in grasp, your actions and openness served as a perfect proof of that, yet your body was still his to claim. And the fact that there was still a part of you he didn’t manage to possess, to thoroughly acknowledge, frustrated him inconceivably.

Especially because you had that strong of an effect on him. Everything you did capable of driving him perfectly insane. Oh, how you had him wrapped around your little finger, without being aware how completely obsessed he was with you.

“Is that so?” His gaze went from your hypnotizing eyes back to your lips, drinking in every single whisper. You stood on your tiptoes, the sight making his hands squeeze your waist tighter, his breath quickening, mind trying to process closer distance. “If he keeps sweet-talking me like this, then I guess he will finally get to taste it.” You grabbed his chin and tilted it down, pressing a soft, drawn-out kiss to his lips. His eyes closed immediately, desperate to heighten his senses. He wanted this kiss to last, both in the moment and later in his memory.

And just as he was about to wrap his arms around your back, pulling you closer, hiding your body from everyone else just to steal a few more kisses, you stepped back, the quiet sound of a smooch echoing between you. He bit his lip, almost drawing blood, restraining himself from chasing after your lips.

“C’mon now. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve that I need to show you.” You gripped his hand tighter and started to walk toward one of the booths. You sent him a smile over your shoulder, making his efforts to calm his racing heart futile. “And then maybe we can grab some cotton candy? All this talk about sweets made me crave some.”

“Anything for you, sweetie.” He answered absentmindedly, your taste still lingering on his lips. How were you always able to move on from the kisses so quickly? It would be the only thing he could think about in the next minutes.

“And what do you want?”

“Hmm?” The question shocked him, his eyebrows going up, his eyes intently observing your face.

“Do you have something you’d like to do while we’re here? I keep dragging you stall to stall ever since we came here.” You said while turning to fully face him, grabbing both of his hands. “I want you to have fun too.”

“I always have fun when I’m with you.” His response honest, his thumb caressing your knuckles. “You make life so interesting. And today you already managed to surprise me, so I would say that was more than enough entertainment for me in a day.” You rolled your eyes at him, a small smile on your lips, and looked at him with patience.

“But the day’s not over yet. Isn’t there anything you’d like to do? Look around.”

He lifted his head from your frame and began taking in the booths and various food stalls that had previously escaped his attention. He hummed, as he could feel you shifting on your feet, unable to contain your excitement.

That’s when he caught something interesting out of the corner of his eye—a couple emerging from a small booth, huge smiles plastered on their faces as they held small pieces of paper. A spark of excitement ignited inside him upon realizing what it was.

“There. I want to have a memento.” He said, his finger pointing to that innocent-looking booth. Almost impossible to spot in the abundance of lights and sounds coming from other attractions.

“Okay! I think I already won you a mountain of mementos but if—Ah!” Your eyes lit up when you realized what he was pointing to, your lips spreading in a cheerful smile. “A photo booth! Sylus, that’s wonderful!”

It wasn’t long before you were both inside the booth, the space cramped, almost too small for him to fit. He sat on the small stool, taking up nearly all the space, leaving you no choice but to sit on one of his legs. Your arms wrapped around his neck for stability, yet there wasn’t a hint of discomfort on your face.

He loved how natural it was for you to be this close to him, the proximity no longer making you nervous. He still remembered how you were at the beginning of your acquaintance, when even an eye contact was enough to make you to shy away. Now, touching him was as easy as breathing, your body relaxed and pliant under his wandering hands.

While you were clicking playfully on the screen, setting up the machine, he took his time observing you—mainly how your body looked next to his, which made him short-circuit, reminding him why he was still waiting for you to make the first move in initiating sexual intimacy. The reason he didn’t want to rush things, nervousness buried deep inside his chest.

You were sitting on his leg, your whole body weighting next to nothing, his one limb nearly twice as big as both of yours. Your soft flesh pressed to him didn’t even take up half of the place available on his leg, and when he put one of his hands on your back, the huge patch of your skin he was able to cover made him gulp audibly.

You were so tiny, next to him.

He was a huge man, and he knew that. Not just his height, but his overall build made even other men look small in comparison. While he usually considered it one of his greatest assets, a fantastic tool for intimidation, in this particular case, it planted a seed of worry in him.

It took some time for you not to shy away from his touch, not to flinch every time he leaned to you, his body covering whole line of your vision. And it took him even more time to learn how he should touch you and hold you, not to put too much force behind his caresses, not to make you bruise. And although the gentleness run in his bloodstream by now, he was still worried about the actual sex.

What if he scares you? His body completely covered your delicious curves without issue.

What if he overwhelms you? His stamina and eagerness matched his overall size.

What if he hurts you? The thought of your body unable to accommodate to his size made his blood run cold.

He looked at your body again, and he had to hold in a sigh. He loved your curves, the unbelievable softness of your skin, how warm you were. He felt his hunger increasing every day, every minute, every second he spend in your presence.

Yet he had to wait patiently, not wanting to scare you. He also knew that you were starting to get bolder with him day by day. He liked to think that it was just a matter of time until you will initiate something more, cover him with your soft embrace, let him melt in your warmth.

Because at the end of the day, his observations of your size difference not only filled his mind with fear, but also made his body tingle in all the right places. The arousal he felt knowing that he could manhandle you without any issue, cover your whole body entirely with his, shield you from the world and its coldness—all consuming. The only thing he could think about.

You were tiny in his embrace.

But he could make it work. He will make it work so good.

How could he hurt you when he was so certain that you were made to be his? Two halves of a perfect soul.

His hand slid down to hug your waist and he pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. It made you giggle, you thought that it was his way of showing impatience. And it was, in a way. Just not the kind of impatience you assumed it was.

“All set! I had some fun with the stickers, do you want to choose your own?” He looked at the screen and opened his mouth to deny, but one sticker did actually catch his attention. He clicked on the small dove and placed it in the bottom of the template, next to the various hearts you already decorated it with.

“That’s you. The resemblance is almost striking.” He said making you laugh and you picked a sticker of some kind of a black bird.

“And that’s you. They unfortunately don’t have a crow one so this little fella has to work.” You placed the sticker close to the dove one, satisfied with your work.

“I get the vision. When I’m squinting my eyes, I guess.”

You had four pictures taken, all accompanied by laughter and endless teasing. One where you kissed his cheek, one hand holding his jaw, his eyes closed and features relaxed. One where he pretended to bite your neck, your face caught in laughter. One where he rolled his eyes, reacting to your lame joke of getting rabies from his bite, as you placed your pointed fingers above his head, adoring him with imaginary horns, your mouth open in fake shock. And the last one, where you grabbed his face and kissed him, his gentle smile pressed against your mouth, a picture of joy that couldn’t be restrained.

“I might have went kind of overboard with the stickers.” You said when you got your two copies of the pictures, four perfect rectangles inside a scarlet border, adorned with hearts, flowers and stars. Two adorable birds were at the very bottom of it, just below the date. Sylus looked at the pictures, and his heart seemed to grow bigger, the wave of emotions making him unable to utter even a simple word. “But I think they’re cute regardless! It’s so nice to finally have a picture of us printed out. I’m definitely going to frame mine.” You said and took out your phone to take a picture of it.

His thumb gently caressed the piece of paper, words still stuck in his throat.

It was the very first picture of you two together, and when he looked at it, he couldn’t help but get emotional, knowing that he never expected to have someone like you in his life. Someone to cherish, to protect, to hold. Someone who reciprocated his feelings, someone who will never leave him, even if doomsday falls upon Linkon, even if the world crumbles.

“Are you okay, Sy? You’ve gone nonverbal again.” He felt your hand on his wrist, offering him a gentle squeeze. He finally looked at you, going out of the trace he was in, and saw your beautiful face laced with concern. He felt your hand going up and down his arm, caressing him in order to bring comfort.

“Did I?” He managed to choke out and hugged you to his chest, craving the closeness, not wanting you to see his slightly glistening eyes. He feared that the darkness of the night would not be enough to cover them, the lights from the fun fair only exaggerating his sudden surge of emotions. “They’re perfect. Thank you.” You hugged his torso tightly, your arms going up and down his back. You knew him well enough to realize he got emotional, but you were smart enough to let him savor his feelings in peace. If he was not comfortable showing you his tears, you had to understand it—the knowledge of how much it meant to him already warming your heart.

“Anything for you, Sylus.” You repeated the same thing he said to you earlier, and he picked you up, still hugging you to himself, his face finding coverage in the crook of your neck.

“Sly little thing.” He whispered and pressed a kiss there, drinking in the sound of your laugh and melting under the touch of your fingers, which stroked his hair affectionately.

Oh, how he couldn’t wait to finally be yours completely.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Mesmerizing.

You, dancing in his room at two p.m to the new vinyl he bought, your hair down, arms up. Your eyes were closed and there was a small, relaxed smile playing on your lips, that seemed to grow bigger with each sway of your hips. You decided to wear the nightgown he got you some time ago, white lace caressing your body with a gentle flow of the shiny fabric.

He couldn’t breathe. All air sucked out of his lungs the moment he turned around and saw you swaying to the music he picked out. A surge of want so intense came over him that he was afraid to move even an inch—his body on fire, his mind filled with the visions of you, thoughts of you, and what you could be reduced to, enriched with under the touch of his hands.

If only he wasn’t a coward.

“Will you join me?” you said over your shoulder, opening your eyes slightly, and you must’ve seen something unusual in his eyes, because your movements slowed down and a furrow appeared between your brows. He wanted to kiss it off instantly. “Sy?”

You were so precious and delicate, a perfect opposite of his harsh exterior and even more barbaric interior. He waited so long, restrained himself for so much time, waiting for you to move first—now, standing before you, the thought that you wanted him this way too pierced a hole in his heart and filled it with fear.

“Forgive me. I cannot.” he answered, his voice coming out with a slight growl, that he couldn’t contain anymore. He inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth, hoping that he was at least successful in not making his eye glow, his Evol suddenly unstable. He didn’t want to know your desires, not when they were visible so clearly on your face now—openness and anticipation, ever since you went back from your date.

He hoped that shower would be able to calm you down, even though the warm and steady stream of the water didn’t manage to help him this time around.

He was loosing his composure and he was loosing it fast. Weeks of this insatiable hunger, unrelenting need and dripping tension did that to him. He knew he was fighting a loosing battle ever since he laid his eyes on you today, looking so cozy in your oversized sweater, filling the air around him with your intoxicating scent.

He was ready to devour you months ago, the build up straining his muscles now, making him restless. He was a goner—one wrong move and his previous patience and willingness for you to take the lead reducing to vapor.

“Why? We always dance together to your vinyls, especially the new ones.” Your movements faltered to a stop, your magnificent face turned to him, with an expression so honest it made his heart clench painfully.

He thought of all the times you danced under the moonlight, soft notes of his favorite music floating through the air, your bodies moving to the rhythm, sometimes gracefully, some other times not so much. The feelings overwhelmed him even more drastically, his eyes closing for a moment.

It was enough time for you to close the distance, and soon he felt your cold hand pressing against his cheek, swiping the flesh with your thumb. He squeezed his eyelids shut tighter, the touch making his soul burn. You took his head in both of your hands, lowering it to face you.

“Sylus, talk to me.” you said, tone worried. He could feel you standing on your tiptoes, wanting to bring your face closer to his. His body almost shaking with the need to hold you. “You’re acting very unusual today. Is something wrong?” He exhaled the air he didn’t know he was holding and opened his eyes. Your face was so close that he could see the shadow your eyelashes cast on your cheeks. He could feel your breath, warm and inviting.

“I can’t touch you now,” he managed to utter, his hands at his sides, struck in cruel stillness. He locked his eyes with yours, filled with worry and a comforting gentleness. You were always so gentle with him, it made him go insane. “Because if I do, I won’t be able to hold back anymore.”

He saw the realization in the shift of your features as you fully grasped the meaning of his words. To his surprise, you took one of his hands in yours, and placed it on your cleavage, right over your beating heart, the rhythm beneath his palm fast but steady.

“Then don’t. Why would you even want to hold back with me?” You answered, slightly breathless, a pleasurable tingling already setting deeply in your abdomen. You looked at his face, the redness of his cheeks nearly matching the color of his eyes, the look he gave you so desperate it turned your legs to cotton.

The sudden burst of happiness in your chest almost made you tremble, you had waited so long for him to finally claim you as his, and it seemed he had finally reached his limit.

“I don’t—” He stumbled upon his words, a reaction so different from his usual self-confident demeanor it made you crave to uncover more versions of him. All versions of him, every single one he was willing to show you. “I can’t help but fear that I will hurt you. You are so soft, so breakable, it makes me nervous. Aren’t you scared of me? Of—Of what I could do, to you?” The confession slipping out of him, and he grabbed your wrist in one hand, the other coming to rest on your back. He slowly brought you to him, pressing your bodies together. He heard your breath falter, and drank that sound in. Then don’t — you had no idea what a hurricane you managed to stir inside him with just two simple words.

“Sy. My sweet, caring gentleman.” He heard your answer, and felt your fingers caressing his under eyes gently, your eyes never leaving his. One of your fingers touched the wrinkle between his brows, smoothing the furrowed surface. “You could never hurt me, even if you wanted to. You’re so fixated on the knowledge what you can do, that you’re forgetting that you’ve never even touched me hard enough to leave a bruise. No matter how much I wanted you to, sometimes.”

“You—”

“I’m not scared of you, Sylus. I could never, and I will never be scared of you. You’re the one with whom I feel the safest.” His hands started trembling, his patience thinning with every beautiful word from your lips. You were telling him things he didn’t even know how desperately he wanted to hear. “And I want you. I want to finally feel you, all your roughness and sharp edges. I want all of it.” The sound of your breathing mingled with the soft tunes of the vinyl. The air thick with want.

Any second now, he could feel it in the shiver down his spine.

“And I want it now.”

Snap.

His resolve shattered as he pulled you into him, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep and desperate it left your legs trembling. He kissed you with raw intensity, his tongue exploring your mouth, drinking in every sound you made as his hands roamed your body, claiming every inch he could reach.

You felt him everywhere. Your thighs, hips, waist, your neck, hair and breasts—he seemed to touch everything he was depriving himself of before. His hands huge, and although slightly rushed and trembling, still surprisingly gentle.

He lift you up, your legs straining his waist and he laid you down on his bed, not breaking the kiss for even a second, your breath his breath, your lips water to quench his thirst.

His head was spinning, and when he finally opened his eyes the sight before him alone made him lose his mind.

You were sprawled under him, your hair a wild mess, your lips swollen from the abundance of his kisses. Your eyes glistened, the look in them so full of trust and love, love so visible it nearly broke him in half.

“You’re exquisite. Irresistible. Ethereal.” The praises slipped out of his tongue before he could stop them. The last bit of control fleeting with the touch of your impatient fingers, unbuttoning his shirt, taking it off of him in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t even find it in himself to tease you for your impatience, not when his brain already turned into mush after touching your bare skin. “You look as if you’re coated in frosting. My sweet girl, my most delectable little sin.” His eyes focused on your white dress, his hands not brave enough to let it slip off of you yet. He already feared the man he would become upon seeing you fully bared before him.

“Sylus—”

“It’s unholy. How much I want you.” His lips traced a path from beneath your ear down to your neck, finding their place on your collarbones. ��How much I need you. The greed unexplainable, insatiable no matter how close I get to you. It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” His eyes met yours in a silent question and you nodded quickly in permission, gulping audibly, your eyes drooping. He let his hands travel up your legs, grazing your inner thighs, swiping through your hips, his palms tracing the lace of your panties, making the hair on his body raise. He then swiped through your waist and finally, finally his hands rested on your breasts, where you wanted them from the very beginning.

His breath hitched as he looked down your body, noticing how his touch had already lifted the fabric of your dress, baring your legs and stomach. His body shielded you from the chill in the air.

He squeezed your breasts gently, fondling them in his hands, a low groan escaping his lips—the same ones which couldn’t resist kissing your belly, anywhere he could reach, not even thinking about stopping his sensual kneading. It baffled him, how soft you were, how pliant under his touch. His hands, although taking so much of the space on your body didn’t seem to make you nervous at all—every single one of his touches you accepted with soft sights, low whines and a bitten lip. You trusted him, and he was drunk on that trust, wanted more, needed to see how far it could take him.

It quickly appeared that there was no limit to the things he could do to you, your whispers not only appreciative, but also encouraging. The uncontrollable thrusts of his hips against the duvet bordered on painful, the knowledge that he would have you in mere minutes making him unbearably hard. But he accepted the friction, your comfort mattered to him the most, and he wanted to take care of you properly.

“Sylus. Sylus, more, please.” He heard your silent plea, and caught your eyes in his, and that’s when he decided it was a time for you to drop the dress. He helped you out of it then licked the goosebumps forming between your breasts, each tiny dot on your skin making him awfully aware that this was it. Your beautiful form, completely bare, just for him to see, to worship.

“My little gem.” He breathed out, his eyes drinking in your body, committing to his memory every dip and curve. “My treasure.” He nearly growled, his mouth attached to your breast, licking and sucking on your nipple, moaning in the process. He wanted to devour you whole, to not leave a patch of skin untouched by his mouth. He thrived in the way you took hold of his head, your hands messing up his hair, caressing it when his tongue worshipped your breasts and nipples, drowning in their softness. He found his safe place.

“Oh God I—I feel like I’m floating, please don’t stop.” He heard you breathe out, your chest heaving, your legs closing in an attempt to relieve the tension building inside you. “You’re so good. So, so, so good, Sy.” He released one of your nipples with a pop, and stored the visual of your skin glistening with his saliva for later. He basked in your praise and pushed himself down, knowing exactly what he wanted to do next.

“Yes? You want it, kitten? Say you do. Please. I need you to say it.” His voice groggy, laced with yearning so tangible it made your body shiver.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Please, Sy. I waited so long for you.” Your words made his head spin, a smile spreading on his lips not flirtatious at all, just pure joy and contentment. He kissed your stomach and his hands once again swiped through your whole body. He raised on his forearms and caged your head between his arms, and then pressed a long, deep kiss on your mouth which quickly turned into another wave of heavy kisses. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

He was ravenous.

“I need to prepare you first, sweetie.” He said to your mouth, his words immediately swallowed by your perfect lips. You whimpered and his grip on your arm tightened involuntarily, his hand playing with your hair. “I need to take my time with you, otherwise I won’t be able to fit. You’re so tiny it scares me.” You nodded into the kiss and he smiled at you gently, and after pressing a kiss to your forehead, he went down.

And when he finally widened your legs, his mouth was on you instantly, making you moan, your legs clasping on his head reflexively. He grunted into your core, licking and sucking skillfully, guided entirely by pure need and his own instincts.

“You taste so sweet.” It wasn’t long before your legs were trembling and his fingers joined his mouth in an attempt to open you up a little more, to prepare you for what’s to come. “You’re dripping because of me.” He chuckled softly but deeply, chest filled with pride, and he licked your core once again, sucking at the sensitive bud. What he didn’t expect was when he managed to fit one figer inside you, angling it upwards, your back suddenly raised from the bed, hands reaching to his chest, delicately pushing him away. A drowned out cry escaped your lips, the wetness between your tights increased, your plushy walls fluttered around his finger.

He made you come, and he instantly got addicted to it.

“Yes. Yes. Just like that, beautiful—Fuck.” With a swear word on his lips he wasted no time in slurping up your spent, his fingers from one, going up to two, then three. And when the only thing he could hear were your moans and whimpers, the taste of you imprinted on his tongue, the slide of his fingers smooth and slick—he realized that you were ready for him.

He slowly withdrew from your pussy, pressing one last lingering kiss to your clit. As his fingers slipped out of you, he finally let himself to catch more than a glimpse of your face.

And it shattered him, how utterly ruined you looked. All flushed and heaving, skin glistening with sweat, eyes shining, filled with unshed tears.

He did that to you, and he couldn’t be more proud of himself. He licked his fingers clean, savoring your taste, then he pulled you into an embrace, his arms wrapping around your whole body. Your head dropped on his bicep, your breath labored.

“You okay, kitten?” He asked gently, ignoring his painful erection, still stranded in the stiff fabric of his pants. His head pressed to your neck, and he inhaled the scent, licking off the droplets of sweat in the process. He couldn’t get enough.

“Yes. More than okay.” You answered, and he felt your hand wandering, trying to unbuckle his belt. His chest squeezed. “Need you now. Please, Sylus…”

“You don’t have to beg. I’ll gladly give you my everything. All of me.” His hands left your body for a moment, swiftly taking off his pants, his mouth now kissing your cheeks and nose.

“I want to taste you, too.” You whispered to him shyly, and he grunted, closing his eyes, begging every deity to give him more patience. How he would love for your little mouth to envelop him, but he knew that the sight alone would be enough to make him undone.

“Next time, okay, sweetie? I cannot wait to be inside you.” You giggled and nodded, pressing a kiss to his nose, stroking his hair gently.

He shivered and hissed when he took off his underwear, letting himself out in the open. He was so hard it hurt, his hand going up and down his erection in an attempt to reduce the tension, even though he knew that the only one who could truly satisfy him was you.

“Oh my god.” He heard your gasp, and noticed that you were looking at him, his body fully exposed, his cock heavy in his hand. “Sylus— Sy, it won’t fit. There’s no way that—” He silenced you with a kiss, and swiped his hand through your core, gathering the slick and spreading it on his member. The smooth glide felt so good he lost himself in the feeling for a second, his tongue licking into your mouth, swallowing your gasps.

“Shhh, I made sure to prepare you as well as I could. And I won’t hurt you, you said so yourself.” He said the last sentence into your lips, once again pressing a long kiss there. Then he kissed your cheek, and breathed hard against your neck, his one hand wrapped around your waist, holding you closer to him, and the other stroked his cock, guiding it to your entrance. When the tip touched you, he gritted his teeth and you gasped, the first contact electric. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers playing nervously with the hair at his nape.

He breathed heavily, the tip of his cock aligned perfectly with your entrance. “You can take it, you were made for me. I will make it fit.” He let go of your waist and grabbed one of your hands in his, kissing your knuckles and smiling gently at you, the anticipation making his body shake. “Just relax for me, will you? Can you do that, kitten?” You nodded and exhaled slowly, some tension getting out of your body. He pressed one last kiss to your forehead and intertwined your fingers with his.

“Close your eyes. I want you to feel me.”

“No. I need to see you, Sy. Don’t make me look away.” He chuckled and pressed his forehead against yours in a silent acceptance. He never wanted to take his eyes away from you too, your desires matching perfectly.

You were his soulmate, after all.

He pressed his erection to your opening and started to slip in, gently, unhurriedly, despite the desire to take you in one thrust of his hips. You opened your mouth in a painful moan, squeezing his hand, panic visible in your eyes. He hated that he was bringing you pain, but knew that it was inevitable, he saw how wide he was stretching you out. “It���s okay, sweetheart. Easy. You’re doing so good…” He breathed out, his hand leaving his cock to hold your hip, the other going up and down your body in a comforting caress. “Taking me so well...” His voice hoarse, sweat dripping from his forehead from the strain of keeping himself under control. He managed to put the tip in, your pussy squeezing him, your heat making him shiver, the sensation the most pleasurable he ever felt. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to calm himself down.

“It hurts, it really—it really hurts.” You whispered and he grunted, feeling you squeeze him harder, his length sliding into you deeper. He opened his eyes and lowered his body to get closer to your face, and placed a kiss between your eyebrows.

“I know, love. If you want to me stop—” He couldn’t recognize his voice anymore.

“No. Never. Please.” You kissed his brow, and send him a small smile. “I—I can take it. I was made for you, yeah?”

He huffed out a laugh, a whimper finding a way out at the same time.

“You were. Mmhm. Good.” He slipped in further, his mouth opening wider. “Good girl. Just a little more.” And before he managed to stop the shivering of his body, he burrowed himself in your tight heat almost to the brim. You were not able to take all of him in yet, but it was nearly a perfect fit, the sight of you wrapped around him made him see red, a low moan slipping out of him, your whimpers the most magnificent tune he ever heard.

“I’m going to move now.” He said and you moaned, your head nodding frantically.

He started thrusting inside you, and he felt as if fireworks exploded inside him, the desire burning brightly, need finally calming down, his mind completely at ease. Your moans, whimpers, cute little “ah,ah,ah’s” making his whole body shiver, a smile finding its way onto his swollen lips. You felt so good below him, your warmth enveloping him fully, and he started to question if he truly was worthy of such a blessing.

He didn’t care anymore. He had you, you wanted him and that was all that mattered now.

“You’re so. fucking. tight. God.” He started moving faster to the accompaniment of your small encouragements, his hand holding onto yours. And when your legs wrapped around his hips, bringing him closer to you, he was gone.

He grabbed your waist and lifted up your butt, the pace and force of his thrusts intensifying, his grunts leaving his mouth freely, silent praises slipping from his lips every now and then. He couldn’t stop now. Didn’t want to stop.

“I want—I want to stay inside you forever. I feel—Ah—Mm—like I’m melting.” He moaned and you felt his mouth on your body, kissing every patch of skin he was able to reach. You kept breathing out soft, quiet moans, tears filling your vision. “So cute.”

You felt so good, the stretch now pleasurable, your body accepting him fully, every thrust welcome, each one anticipated.

And he could see that so clearly on your face, his mind calming, knowing that he was able to bring you pleasure. It made him feel better too, your lovely expressions making his blood pump faster, his hips thrust deeper, just to see and hear more tokens of your delight. He was addicted to you and your reactions, to the way you sang his name, the way your skin tasted and eyes glistened every time he managed to catch eye contact.

Time quickly went by when you were loosing yourselves in each other. The positions changed constantly, Sylus looking for and finding new ways to tip you over the edge, making sure you were completely satisfied. You encouraged him to leave some marks on you, and you made sure to repay the sentiment, scratching his back with your nails, and pressing hickies on his chest—he already wished for the marks to stay there forever, and you assured him that you’ll stay instead, making him jump on you once again, burying his head in your shoulder.

“Say my name, kitten. Keep—Keep saying my name.” He grunted, his hips unrelenting, your bodies soaked, your own so tired that he had to hold it in his arm for you to not slip off the bed. He kept thrusting inside you from behind, his lips pressing gentle kisses on your neck and shoulder, his movements deep and sensual, pleasure overwhelming. You granted his wish, your voice hoarse and quiet.

You were going at it for hours now, yet he still hasn’t come.

Not because he couldn’t, but because every time he was close, he was slipping out of you, his eyes squeezing shut, a hand gripping himself at the base.

He didn’t want the night to end, refused to let you go, savored the feeling of being buried deep inside you, not knowing where you ended and he began.

“Sy—Mmm—Sylus—Ah.” The words failed you, your mind filled only with pleasure and thoughts of him. You were so tired and yet he made you feel so good you wanted to stay in his arms forever. “The—Ah—The sun is rising.”

He nuzzled into your cheek, his thrusts slowing down, quiet grunts leaving his lips. He sounded wrecked.

“I know, love. You look so wonderful in this light.” He kissed your cheek and glued himself off of you, leaving your body cold and shivering. In the next second, he manhandled you onto your back again, facing him. Your hands immediately flew to cover your face, fearing how completely ruined you must have looked after so much time making love and so many orgasms ripped out of you.

“No—Mmh—Don’t hide yourself from me.” He grunted, and took your hands in his gently, revealing the beautiful mess he managed to make of you. Your face covered in tears, cheeks flushed and lips so swollen it only made him want to kiss them some more. So he did. “Never hide yourself from me, dove. Hold me.” He kissed the palms of your hands and put them on his neck, your arms going to hold him closer. He huffed out a weak laugh, his thrusts not stopping even for a second. You felt his huge hands caressing your thighs and you moaned softly. “God, I’m sorry, kitten, I just can’t stop—I—”

“It’s okay, S—Sylus. Ah—I won’t run away.” You pulled his head closer and kissed his lips softly. His hands encircled your waist, drawing your body closer to him, the hair on his forehead brushing against your chest. Your eyes met his and he seemed to calm slightly, your gaze soothing the flame inside him.

“I love you. I—” You suddenly confessed, a single tear slipping down your cheek. His breath faltered, ruby eyes widening, your words shaking his world completely. “I love you, Sylus. So much. I love you so intensely it scares me, I—Ah—” A moan was ripped from you when he suddenly picked up the pace, the sweat from his forehead landing between your breasts. Another happy tear slipped from your eye, and if you had enough energy to keep your eyes open, you’d see that he was teary-eyed too. His hands grabbed your head, turning it up so he could look straight into your eyes—his own burning with desire and unspoken devotion. He needed to hear you say the words once more, but before he could start pleading for it, you managed to read his mind.

“I love you, Sylus.”

And those words were what finally made him shatter.

He came, so violently he nearly blacked out, his whole body trembling, and movements faltering, his cock buried inside you the deepest he could go. He released grunt after grunt, his arms holding you tight to him, your soft sighs only seemed to prolong his fall. He nuzzled his face up against your neck, then cheek, his lips touching your skin, unable to press more kisses due to the uncontrollable moans coming out of his mouth.

“F-Fuck—” He managed to choke out and you tried to calm your heavy breathing, focused on his cum filling you up, so much that you could already feel it spilling out. You whined and brought your hands to his waist, holding him close, and you came one last time too, your pussy squeezing him even tighter, ripping a short cry out of him. Goosebumps spread around your body from the pleasure and you went pliant in his arms, letting your sore muscles finally rest against the soft sheets.

Sylus relaxed a few moments later, his sweaty body collapsing on top of you, mindful not to put his full weight on you. His hot, heavy breath still warmed your neck, your hearts beating rapidly against each other, showing no signs of calming anytime soon. He managed to turn onto his side, his arms still wrapped around you, taking your body with him.

You were held in a wet, yet warm embrace, his arms protecting you from the cold morning air, your bodies still connected. The silence that ascended upon you comfortable and desired after so much time of intense workout—both throats roughed up and in need of hydration.

“Sylus, I—” You started saying, your voice a rough whisper, your head raising to meet his gaze, surprised that his crimson eyes were already studying you. He put one of his hands on the back of your head, his fingers playing with your hair ever so gently.

His gaze so intense you started to turn your head away, but he gently brought it back to him. He didn’t have to open his mouth for you to understand what he was feeling—the emotion in his eyes unmistakable.

“I love you, too.” He breathed out, his hand going up to your cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers. His hand was cold and served as a delightful compress for your burning face. “I love you more than any words could ever express.”

He reminded you of a statue under this warm, morning light, his body perfectly sculpted. The only source of color were his cheeks, blaring red, nearly matching the color of his sparkling eyes. His wet hair still bearing the paths carved by your fingers, his lips kissed and twitching, fighting off a smile, which threatened to form when he realized how intensely you were observing him.

“My home is your home, my heart is your heart. Every breath I’ve been taking ever since I met you had already been yours — the day you tell me to cease, I will gladly do so.” He continued, his breath slowly calming down, one of your hands going to stroke his chest.

“I will never tell you to cease, you little dramatic fool.” You answered playfully, blinking away your tears, your hand going to rest on his warm cheek, his face immediately nuzzling into your palm. “If anything, I would curse you to live forever. Soundly and happily, by my side.” A soft laugh came out of his lips; a start of a smile that overtook his entire face, lightening up his features, showing off his small sharp canines.

“By your side...” He repeated, his voice possessing a dream-like quality, a smirk still visible. He swiped his hand over your body: from your shoulder, through your waist, down to your hip, and then back up. His touch soothing as always. “A curse has never sounded so sweet, my little dove.” He closed his eyes, and a sigh escaped his lips. The happiness spread through his body so intensely, that he thought he was going to burst.

Live forever, by your side. There was no other place in the entire universe where he would rather be.

He felt you squirming, a crease appearing between your brows, your hand squeezing his bicep. He hissed, feeling you squeeze him down there too, his cock still buried deep inside you, your plush walls a place he never wanted to leave. However, he knew that after so much time and so many orgasms you needed a break, your body sensitive and in need of extensive pampering. Good thing he adored spoiling you with affection.

“I’m going to pull out now, okay sweetheart?” You nodded your head, a small smile on your lips. You were just too adorable. “And then I’ll put you in a warm bath, order your favorite meal and change the sheets. Any objections?”

“None at all.” He switched your position so that he was once again on top of you, and he gently pulled out, a grunt leaving his lips at the loss of the comfortable fit. You whimpered when his cum started flowing out of you freely, and he couldn’t look away, the sight making the desire in him burn once more. He stopped himself before he started showing the cum back inside you. “Will you join me in the bath too?” He looked at your face, covered in the warm sunlight, the sight making him breathless.

“I would love to, if that’s what you want.” He hugged you to himself one more time, his body covering yours completely, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. He grazed the delicate skin with his teeth, then pressed his lips to your pulse, his tongue picking out to lick at your salty skin. “I love you.” He whispered into your neck, basking in the feeling of your heartbeat beneath his lips. “I love you, Y/N. Thank you for showing me what love feels like. Thank you for accepting me.” His breath started going out labored, the intensity of the emotion too big for his body.

“Thank you, for letting me love you. You are the best thing that happened to me, Sylus. I hope you know that.” Your kiss to his temple and your hands caressing his back felt like a blessing, your bodies connected in a soul-crushing hug his own private oasis. Never in his life had he experienced such a moment of total tranquility; only you were capable of bringing him peace.

He never wanted to let you go, and he didn’t have to. No other thought filled him with so much joy. You were his, just as much as he was yours. An ideal exchange of souls.

“I do.” He breathed out, and looked into your loving eyes once again. You smiled at him, and he felt his breath being punched out of him, his ruby eyes fluttering. He shook his head and reciprocated the smile, which quickly turned into a full laugh, your bodies shaking, hearts beating in unison. “I truly do.”

Your lips found his in a kiss that tasted like a promise—of a hand to hold, body to warm up to, and a heart that beat for one another. In every life, every universe, and in every space and time—now, and forevermore.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ bonus! ˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

“So which one finally did it?” You asked him nonchalantly, when you were both freshly washed up, lying on the new, pleasurably chilly sheets, basking in the afternoon sunlight. Too exhausted to raise, too happy to fall asleep after the whole night of making love.

His head on your chest stirred slightly, a confusion slowly overtaking his features.

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes, but he didn’t find it in himself to raise. His arms holding your body close to his, tightening their hold, a signal he hoped would make you continue the caress of his back with your fingers.

Your skin bared a fragrance of his soap and his skin, and he felt drunk ever since he noticed it.

“The workout outfit a size too small? Or those jeans at the funfair?” You continued, and his mind started to connect the dots. His eyes widened. “I knew that I would be sticking my ass out a lot that day so I made sure they were extra tight.” He heard you giggle and raised his head immediately, his gaze falling on yours.

“You—”

“What? You were making me wait forever! And don’t get me wrong…” You cupped his cheek, and he was rendered speechless. The whole time he was fighting for his sanity, trying to wait for you, restraining himself from taking you on the nearest piece of furniture — You were riling him up on purpose? “I love that you are a gentleman, and the princess treatment is really nice too, but I just couldn’t wait to have you ravish me, you know? Your girl has needs.”

He was going completely insane. He let out a hearty laugh, and shook his head in disbelief. It seemed that he underestimated you again, forgot that your desires and needs matched his almost perfectly.

And he should’ve known that the workout clothes were a bit too revealing for your liking. Fuck, he should’ve known.

“And it seems my girl is a sly little vixen.” His voice laced with humor, a smile still visible, head impossibly light. He hummed, and kissed a smile off of your plump lips, then your neck, shoulders and chest. You started trembling, and the smile he send you this time made him look as if he was a wolf studying his pray. You gulped audibly. “Well then, if you decided to manipulate me, then I think you are ready to suffer the consequences.” His kisses reached your breasts, and he took one perky nipple into his mouth, sucking passionately. His other hand grabbed at the other boob, kneading the flesh languidly.

“But it’s already bright outside, shouldn’t we—” A press of his finger on your lips hushed you, and his eyes met yours, his lips still circled around your delicate nipple. With a snap of his fingers the curtains covered the windows, cutting of the only source of light. Darkness enveloped you, making the press of his body on yours even more intimate. Your body was still on fire after the hours of tangling in sheets, every part of you sensitive and tingling under his skilled hands.

“Ah, ah. You’re trembling. Why is that, I wonder?” You heard his voice closer to your ear, and when your eyes got used to the darkness, you saw his eyes filled with mirth and something primal. His hands went slowly up your tights, their destination obvious. “I had no idea that my kitten was that starved. Now I can’t possibly leave her unsatisfied, can I?”

You felt his hands touch your warmest spot, and you let fireworks overtake you once more, your spine twisting to get closer to him. He tasted the skin on your chest again, and went down with his kisses, leaving a happy, wet trial in its wake. He raised suddenly, kissing you on the lips.

“And what about the zipper?” He asked absentmindedly into your lips, remembering the situation that nearly made him lose his mind couple of weeks ago.

“What zipper?” Your confusion truthful, your squeal loud when he suddenly plopped motionless on top of you, a sign of exasperation leaving his mouth.

It seems that loving you was the beginning of his end, after all.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

thank you for your time! ♡ PLEASE let me know if you liked it, i would appreciate every single comment and engagement!!! i would be so happy to read your reactions (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

likes would be much appreciated ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

[inseobts]

Unintentional couple behaviour

you two acts like a loving couple all the time, so what happens when someone points it out?

characters: zoro, sanji, law, ace and sabo

words count: around 0.8k - 1.3k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

You do a lot of things for Zoro without thinking.

You wake him up when it’s time to eat. You stop him from training too much. You make sure he doesn’t get lost whenever the crew visits a new island.

It’s normal for you. Someone has to do it.

But one day, the others start teasing you about it.

It happens at lunch. You are eating with the crew when Usopp laughs and nudges your arm.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna get your boyfriend?”

You blink. “What?”

Sanji, cleaning his hands with a towel, nods toward the deck “That moss-brained idiot. You always bring him to meals. It’s like a little routine between you two now. Like a couple…”

“We’re not—” You nearly choke on your drink “We’re not a couple!”

Usopp grins “Then why do you always take so much care of him?”

“Because he’s stupid and forgets to eat!” you say, standing up “I’ll go get him, but not because of whatever weird ideas you guys have.”

You walk away while they laugh behind you.

You find Zoro exactly where you expect, napping against the ship’s railing, his swords next to him.

You roll your eyes and shake his shoulder “Oi, wake up. Lunch is ready.”

Nothing.

You shake him harder “Zoro. If you don’t get up, I’ll eat your food.”

He grumbles and waves his hand, like he’s trying to swat away a fly.

Sighing, you do what you always do. You grab his wrist and pull him up with both hands. He lets you. He always does, like it’s natural.

Zoro blinks at you, still half-asleep “Huh. You again.”

“Yeah, me again,” you say “Come eat before Sanji ‘forgets’ to save you anything.”

You’re still holding his wrist, making sure he doesn’t fall back asleep. That’s when you notice Nami and Robin watching from across the deck, smiling.

“What?” you ask, feeling awkward.

Nami smirks “You two are cute.”

Your face heats up “We’re not—he’s not—we’re not together!”

Robin chuckles “You do take care of him a lot.”

Zoro frowns, confused “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” you mutterl “Come eat.”

You let go of his wrist too fast and walk away, ignoring the warm feeling in your chest.

You think it’s over, but now you notice things.

Zoro always sits next to you at meals, even when there are other seats. You always save food for him without realizing. And during fights, he always protects you first, like it’s a habit.

And, worst of all, people keep pointing it out.

“y/n,” Chopper asks one day, tilting his head “Are you and Zoro dating?”

You almost trip “What?! No!”

“Oh...” He looks confused “But you act like it”

You groan “Not you too”

After that, you can’t stop thinking about it.

The next time you wake Zoro up, your fingers stay on his wrist a second too long. The next time he pulls you behind him in a fight, your heart beats faster.

And then one evening, when you catch him watching you with a thoughtful look, you realize you might be in trouble.

That night, Zoro speaks first.

“Oi”

You look up from your seat on the deck “What?”

He leans against the railing, arms crossed “Does it bother you?”

You frown “Does what bother me?”

“What people are saying” His eyes stay on you “About us.”

You swallow “Why? Does it bother you?”

He doesn’t answer right away “No” his voice is quieter than usual.

Your stomach flips and you look at the ocean “I mean… it’s just dumb teasing, right?”

Zoro doesn’t reply. Instead, he watches you for a long time. Then, finally, he smirks.

“Doesn’t really matter what they say” he says, voice calm but sure “I’d still stick with you either way.”

Your breath catches and suddenly, your heart won’t let you ignore this anymore.

For the next days you try to brush off what the crew said.

You really do, but it’s impossible to ignore when Zoro keeps acting the same way.

Like when you’re on lookout duty together, and he hands you his jacket without a word.

Or when you spar with him, and he pulls his hits just enough so you don’t get hurt.

Or when you fall asleep on the Sunny’s deck, and you wake up covered with a blanket, one you know you didn’t grab.

And every time it happens, you catch the crew watching. Smirking.

It’s driving you insane.

One afternoon, you finally decide to do something about it.

You find Zoro by the training room, lifting weights. His shirt is half undone, sweat glistening on his skin, but you shove that thought aside.

You cross your arms “Hey, Zoro.”

He grunts in acknowledgment, not stopping his reps.

You hesitate “…Why do you treat me differently?”

He finally sets the weight down, wiping his face with a towel “What?”

“You heard me...” You shift uncomfortably “You do things for me that you don’t do for anyone else.”

Zoro leans back against the wall, looking at you like you just asked a stupid question “So?”

“So?” You huff “That means something, doesn’t it?”

He shrugs “I guess.”

You blink “That’s it? You guess?”

Zoro sighs, scratching his head “Look, I don’t really think about it. I just—” He pauses, then shrugs again “I want to.”

Your heart skips a beat “…What?”

“I want to do those things for you,” he says simply “it’s not a big deal”

You stare at him “Not a... Zoro, are you serious?”

He frowns “What, you don’t like it?”

“That’s not the point!” Your face feels hot “You don’t do this for Nami or Robin or anyone else!”

Zoro looks at you, unimpressed “Yeah. Because it’s you.”

You freeze.

The way he says it, so blunt, so obvious, it makes your stomach flip.

He isn’t flustered. He isn’t overthinking it. He’s just stating a fact.

“…Oh.”

Zoro crosses his arms, watching you carefully “Is that a problem?”

You swallow “No. It’s just…”

It’s everything. It’s him always being there, always looking out for you, always treating you like someone important.

It’s a realization you should have had ages ago.

You let out a breathless laugh “I’m an idiot.”

Zoro raises an eyebrow “Well, yeah.”

You smack his arm. He smirks.

But when your hand lingers just a little too long, he doesn’t pull away.

And suddenly, you both understand... this isn’t just a habit.

It never was.

Ever since that conversation in the training room, things between you and Zoro have… shifted, but not in a bad way.

He still trains for hours. Still naps in random spots. Still bickers with Sanji.

But now, when you sit beside him, his arm naturally rests along the back of your chair.

Now, when you fight, he doesn’t just watch your back, he makes sure you’re never out of reach.

Now, when you look at him for a second too long, he looks right back.

Like he’s waiting.

Like he’s giving you the choice.

One evening, you find him on the Sunny’s deck, looking out at the ocean.

“…Can’t sleep?” he asks.

You shake your head, stepping closer “Thinking too much.”

Zoro smirks “Dangerous habit...”

You huff a laugh but don’t argue.

Instead, you stand beside him, silent for a moment before you finally ask...

“Do you regret telling me?”

Zoro frowns “Telling you what?”

“That you… actually treat me differently. That you want to.”

His jaw tightens slightly “No.”

Your heart does something strange “Good.”

You don’t give yourself time to hesitate.

Before doubt can creep in, you grab him and pull him down.

Zoro freezes.

For half a second, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even breathe.

Then a quiet growl rumbles from his chest, and his hand cups the back of your neck as he kisses you back.

It’s firm. Solid. Like he’s been holding back for too long and refuses to anymore.

When you finally break apart, Zoro leans his forehead against yours, exhaling through his nose.

“…Finally” he mutters.

You grin “You were waiting for me?”

“Wasn’t gonna rush you” His fingers brush your jaw “You get there when you get there.”

You hum, leaning into him “And now?”

Zoro smirks “Now, you’re stuck with me.”

You kiss him again, just to make sure he knows you wouldn’t want it any other way.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

Sanji has always been a flirt. That’s just how he is.

He calls Nami and Robin “my love” and “my dear”. He spins around the kitchen whenever they compliment him. He offers to carry their bags when the crew goes shopping.

But when it comes to you, it’s different.

It starts when the crew is eating dinner together.

“Sanji, can you pass the salt?” you ask.

Instead of handing you the salt shaker, Sanji grabs it, twists off the lid, and sprinkles just the right amount onto your plate.

You blink “Uh. Thanks?”

“Of course, my dear” he says smoothly. Then, as if nothing happened, he turns back to his own plate.

You think nothing of it... until you notice the way the others are watching.

Usopp raises an eyebrow “Did he just season your food for you?”

“Yeah?” You shrug “What's new about it? He's a chef and he’s just being nice.”

Luffy grins “He doesn’t do that for anyone else.”

“That’s not true,” you argue “Sanji treats everyone like this.”

Nami hums “Not exactly like this. If we wanted more salt he would start a lecture about how it would ruin his masterpiece.”

Before you can ask what she means, Sanji stands up to grab dessert. He places a plate in front of you first. It’s your favorite.

The crew stares.

You stare too “Sanji…”

He smiles “What? I made extra for you.”

Usopp coughs “Yeah. Okay. Totally normal.”

Robin chuckles behind her hand.

You shake your head and go back to eating. It’s nothing. Sanji is just being Sanji.

…Right?

But then, you start noticing other things.

When you’re cold, Sanji drapes his jacket over your shoulders without you asking.

When you need something from a high shelf, Sanji wordlessly reaches up and hands it to you.

When you’re about to trip, his hand is always there to steady you.

And every time, every single time, he does it so naturally that you don’t even think about it.

Until one day, Franky whistles and says, “You two sure act like a couple.”

You nearly drop the drink in your hands “What?!”

Sanji, who was stirring a pot at the stove, pauses.

Franky leans against the counter, grinning “You two do all that coupley stuff. He gives you the best food, takes care of you, treats you differently from everyone else—”

“That’s not true,” you say quickly “Sanji’s like this with everyone.”

Franky snorts “Nah. He does flirt with everyone. But this?” He gestures between you and Sanji “This is different.”

You glance at Sanji. He’s staring into the pot, silent.

Your face feels hot now “You guys are reading too much into things.”

“Sure we are...” Franky says, smirking. Then he leaves.

The kitchen is quiet now. You swallow and turn to Sanji.

“…Is it true?”

He looks at you. His usual confident smile is gone. Instead, there’s something softer in his eyes.

“I don’t know” he says “is it?”

Your heartbeat quickens.

Suddenly, every touch, every sweet gesture, it all feels different.

Maybe it wasn’t just a habit.

Maybe it was something else all along.

After all this the teasing has only gotten worse.

Ever since Nami and Usopp pointed out how Sanji treats you, they will not let it go.

“Here comes Sanji’s beloveeeed~” Usopp sings when you walk into the kitchen.

“I should start charging you for all the extra food Sanji makes only for you” Nami smirks.

Even Luffy, who usually doesn’t care about these things, grins at Sanji one afternoon and says “Oi, cook, when are you gonna marry y/n?”

Sanji chokes on his cigarette so hard he has to brace himself on the counter.

You groan and drag a hand down your face.

But what really drives you insane?

Sanji never denies it.

He stutters, blushes, waves his hands, but he never says “That’s not true.”

Because it is true.

And it’s starting to drive you crazy.

You try to ignore it. But then you start noticing things, even the smallest ones.

Sanji never lets you carry anything heavy.

He always pours you tea first, even before Nami and Robin.

He adjusts your chair at dinner like it’s second nature.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

But you do.

And now, every time he gives you that look—the one that’s soft, full of admiration, like you hung the damn sun in the sky—your heart stumbles over itself.

This has to stop.

Or something has to change.

It happens one evening after dinner.

You’re in the kitchen, helping Sanji clean up. He hums as he washes the dishes, sleeves rolled up, golden hair falling over his forehead.

You watch him for a second, then take a deep breath.

“Sanji.”

He glances at you, smiling “Yes, my love?”

You grip the counter “Why do you act like we’re together?”

Sanji freezes.

The faucet keeps running. The kitchen is warm with the smell of spices. But Sanji is frozen.

Slowly, he turns his head toward you “…P-Pardon?”

You cross your arms “You treat me differently. Even the crew notices. You never do this stuff for anyone else.”

Sanji swallows hard “I—”

“You never deny it,” you press “and honestly? I’m tired of waiting for you to finally say something.”

Sanji stares at you like you’ve just flipped his entire world upside down.

His hands shake. His lips part like he wants to speak, but nothing comes out.

“…Sanji.” Your voice softens “Do you want this to be real?”

A shuddering breath leaves him. He looks at you, eyes wide, vulnerable.

“More than anything...” he whispers.

Your heartbeat stutters.

That’s it. That’s all you need to hear.

You step forward, grab the front of his shirt, and kiss him.

Sanji malfunctions.

His entire body locks up, like his brain has completely short-circuited.

For a solid two seconds, he does not move.

Then a noise escapes him, something between a whimper and a desperate sigh, and his hands come up to cup your face, pulling you closer.

The kiss is warm, overwhelming, but soft, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he holds on too tight.

When you finally pull away, he’s redder than his own suit.

“…M-Mon amour,” he breathes, voice shaking “You...you actually...”

You smirk “Took us long enough, cook.”

Sanji makes a strangled sound and immediately buries his face in your shoulder, arms wrapped tight around you.

Outside, the crew is losing their minds.

“TOLD YOU!” Usopp shouts.

“I WON THE BET!” Nami cheers.

“Oi, Sanji, you alive in there?” Zoro snickers.

Sanji doesn’t answer. He’s too busy melting against you, whispering sweet nothings into your skin.

And honestly?

You think you’ll let him.

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

Law is not the kind of person who likes physical contact. He doesn’t let most people touch him. He keeps his distance, always standing at the edge of conversations with his arms crossed. If someone bumps into him, they get a glare.

But for some reason, you are different.

It starts when Bepo hands you a coat one evening.

“Here,” he says, tail flicking “you left this in the lounge.”

You blink at it. It’s black, long, and definitely not yours.

“This isn’t mine” you say, confused.

Bepo tilts his head “Oh. But you always wear the captain’s coat, so I thought it was yours now...”

You freeze.

“Wait. What?”

Shachi walks by and hears the conversation. He grins “Yeah, you totally do. Every time you’re cold, you steal his coat.”

Penguin nods “And Law never complains.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Try to remember.

…Okay, maybe you have borrowed Law’s coat a few times. But that’s just because it’s warm! And because it’s there! And because...

Oh no.

Your stomach twists “I... I do not...”

“Sure you don’t...” Shachi teases “What’s next? Calling him ‘dear’?”

You groan and shove the coat at Bepo before walking away.

But now, you can’t stop thinking about it.

After this, you start noticing other things. Like how Law always lets you into his personal space.

How you can tug his hat down over his eyes without him pushing you away.

How he casually rests his hand on your shoulder when he stands next to you.

One day, you trip over a loose crate. Before you even hit the ground, a familiar blue glow surrounds you... Law’s Room.

In an instant, you’re back on your feet, completely unharmed.

The Heart Pirates snicker.

“Captain didn’t even think” Penguin whispers.

“He never uses Room for anyone else’s clumsiness” Shachi adds.

You glare at them “I heard that.”

They just smirk.

Law doesn’t say anything. He just sighs and keeps walking, like saving you without thinking is the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart does something weird. You ignore it.

Later, you sit on a crate, arms crossed. Law stands next to you, reading a medical book.

You glance at him “Your crew keeps calling me ‘Captain’s partner.’”

He doesn’t look up “So?”

“So, why?”

He flips a page “Probably because you act like one.”

Your brain short-circuits.

You stare “Excuse me?”

Law finally looks at you, raising an eyebrow “You’re always in my quarters, you steal my coat, and you act like you belong next to me. They’re not wrong.”

Your face burns “I... You let me do all that!”

He smirks “I know.”

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

Because suddenly, you realize... he has let you. And he still is.

Ever since Bepo and the others pointed out how Law treats you differently, it’s been impossible to ignore.

The extra care during missions. The way he always stands just a little closer than necessary. The way he lets you touch him, his arm, his shoulder, even his hand, when no one else would dare.

But what really gives him away?

The way his ears burn red every time you get too close.

And yet he never says anything.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was running an experiment to see how long he could keep this up before you lost your mind.

So tonight you’re calling him out.

You find him in his quarters, buried in medical books.

“Hey, Law.” You lean against the desk, arms crossed “Can I ask you something?”

His eyes flick up “What?”

You tilt your head “Do you like me?”

Law chokes.

Not just a little cough... he full-on chokes on air, slamming his book shut as if that’ll somehow save him.

“What—?!” He coughs into his fist “Where the hell did that come from?”

You raise an eyebrow “You tell me.”

Law scowls, shifting uncomfortably “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Oh? Am I?” You step closer.

He stiffens “What are you...?”

You place your hands on the arms of his chair and lean in, caging him in.

His breath hitches.

Oh. Oh.

He is not prepared for this.

“Law,” you murmur, watching his face closely “you never let anyone touch you, but you let me.”

His jaw clenches “That doesn’t—”

“You always make sure I rest. You check my injuries before anyone else’s.”

“Because you’re reckless—”

“And...” you lean even closer “your ears are red right now.”

Law swallows.

You smirk “So, wanna try again?”

For a long moment, he just stares at you, lips parted, golden eyes darting between yours.

Then, in a last-ditch effort, he growls... “You’re annoying.”

You hum “Maybe.”

And then you kiss him.

Law goes still.

For the first time since you’ve known him, he is completely speechless.

But then a quiet sound escapes him, and his hand suddenly grips your wrist, holding you there.

You almost pull back, unsure, until his other hand slides around the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, and he kisses you back.

It’s hesitant at first, but when you don’t pull away, something shifts.

The kiss deepens, his grip tightens, and the heat radiating off of him is enough to make you dizzy.

When you finally part, Law exhales sharply, pressing his forehead against yours.

“…You’re gonna be a problem” he mutters, voice rough.

You grin “Yeah?”

His fingers tighten in your hair “Yeah.”

And then, despite everything, he kisses you again.

Because for once in his life he’s done running.

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

Ace is naturally affectionate.

He throws an arm around people’s shoulders, laughs loudly, and grins like the world is a joke he’s in on. He’s warm but also because he makes people feel welcome.

So it’s not weird that he touches you a lot.

Right?

It starts when Marco sits down next to you, smirking.

“You and Ace finally together, yoi?”

You look at him confused “what do you mean?”

“A couple… are you two a couple?”

You almost drop your drink “What? No!”

Marco raises an eyebrow “You sure? He always saves you a seat at meals. Always gives you his food if you ask. Always keeps an eye on you during fights.”

You roll your eyes “That doesn’t mean anything. He’s just like that.”

“Not with everyone” Marco takes a sip of his drink “Just you.”

You open your mouth to argue, but then you don’t know what to say, because now, you’re thinking about it.

The next time Ace sits beside you at dinner, you notice how he slides his plate a little closer to yours, letting you steal his food.

The next time the crew docks at an island, you notice how he instinctively waits for you before walking off together.

The next time you’re about to trip, you don’t even get the chance to fall, Ace grabs your wrist and steadies you like it’s second nature.

And maybe it is second nature.

“Careful, Ace,” one of the division commanders teases “If you keep acting like that, y/n might actually think you’re in love.”

Ace laughs, scratching the back of his head “Yeah, yeah.”

You laugh too. Because it’s just a joke… Right?

One night, you sit together on the deck, watching the ocean.

You fidget for a second before saying “The crew keeps calling us a couple”

Ace hums “Yeah?”

You glance at him “Why do you think that is?”

He leans back, arms behind his head, and grins “Probably because we act like one.”

You choke on your own breath “Excuse me?!”

Ace tilts his head “I mean, we do everything together. You always take my food, and I always let you. You always pull me out of trouble, and I always let you. Feels natural, doesn’t it?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because now that you think about it... yeah, it does feel natural.

“…Ace,” you say slowly “Are we...?”

He looks at you, amusement flickering in his eyes “What do you think?”

Your stomach flips.

Because suddenly, you’re not sure where the habit ends and the feelings begin.

After this, Ace keeps flirting with you all the time.

It’s just who he is.

Winks across the deck. Throwing an arm around your shoulders. Calling you hot stuff like it’s your actual name.

You’re used to it.

But after the teasing from Marco and Thatch, after realizing that Ace treats you differently, you start to wonder.

Is he just playing around? Or is there something real underneath?

There’s only one way to find out.

The perfect opportunity comes one afternoon, when Ace flops down next to you on the Moby Dick’s deck, grinning.

“Hey,” he drawls, resting an arm behind his head “Miss me?”

You smirk “I saw you literally two hours ago.”

“That’s two hours too long.” He winks “Bet you were thinking about me the whole time.”

You hum, tilting your head “You really think that, huh?”

Ace chuckles “C’mon, you love me.”

You raise an eyebrow “Prove it.”

He blinks “Huh?”

You shift, leaning closer with a sly smile “You say all this stuff, Ace. You flirt, you tease... but are you actually serious?”

For the first time, he hesitates.

Just for a second, but it’s enough.

“…Of course I am,” he says, but his usual confidence isn’t all there.

You smirk “Then show me.”

Before he can react, you grab his hat, his precious hat, and plop it onto your own head.

Ace short-circuits.

“Oi! That’s...!” He reaches for it instinctively but stops mid-motion, staring at you.

You tilt the brim with a smirk “What? You said you liked me, right?”

Ace swallows “Y-Yeah?”

“Then just take it back.”

You expect him to snatch it back playfully.

What you don’t expect is for Ace to grin, eyes flickering with mischief, and suddenly tackle you onto the deck.

You yelp as he hovers over you, forearms braced on either side of your head.

The crew whoops in the background, but neither of you pay them any attention.

Ace smirks down at you “You think you’re funny, huh?”

You grin “A little.”

Ace shakes his head, chuckling, but then his expression softens.

He reaches up, tilts the hat back just enough to see your face properly.

And then without thinking he leans down and kisses you.

It’s grinning into the kiss kind of playful. It’s warm and teasing but full of something deeper.

And when he pulls back, face way too close, he murmurs “Now you gotta prove it.”

Your heart races.

You don’t back down. Instead, you tug him down by his necklace and kiss him again.

This time, Ace melts.

When you finally break apart, Ace huffs out a breathless laugh.

“Well,” he grins “Guess you do love me.”

You roll your eyes “Shut up.”

But you don’t stop him when he kisses you one more time.

Because, honestly?

He’s right.

── .✦ Sabo:

Sabo is easy to be around.

He’s kind, smart, and always ready to listen. He laughs at your jokes, never forgets your favorite things, and somehow always knows when you need him.

So it’s no surprise that you spend a lot of time together.

But apparently, the way you act around him is a little… suspicious.

It starts when you’re walking through the Revolutionary Army base with Koala.

“So,” she says casually “when are you and Sabo going to make it official?”

You nearly trip over your own feet “What?!”

Koala grins “Come on, don’t play dumb. You two already act like a couple.”

You scoff “No, we don’t.”

She raises an eyebrow “Oh really? Who’s the first person Sabo looks for when he gets back from a mission?”

“…Me.”

“Who’s the only person he lets borrow his gloves?”

“…Me.”

“And who’s the only one he lets fall asleep on his shoulder without complaining?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Because—oh.

Oh.

Koala smirks “See what I mean?”

You shake your head “That doesn’t mean anything. We’re just close.”

She shrugs “If you say so.”

But now, you can’t stop thinking about it. You start noticing things, like how Sabo always finds a reason to sit next to you during meals, or how he reaches out to fix your collar or tuck your hair behind your ear like it’s normal, or how he always makes sure you have a blanket when you fall asleep at your desk, even though no one else gets that treatment.

And the worst part?

Now that you’re paying attention, everyone else is too.

“I swear, it’s like they’re married” one soldier mutters.

“They finish each other’s sentences” another whispers.

“Bet they don’t even realize” someone else chuckles.

You groan and drop your head onto the table.

Sabo, sitting beside you, blinks “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing” you mumble.

He frowns, then wordlessly slides his drink toward you.

You stare at it “…Did you just give me your drink?”

He shrugs “You like it more than I do.”

You glance around. Several soldiers are watching now, smirking.

Slowly, you push the drink back to him.

Sabo looks confused “You don’t want it?”

Your face burns “Nope. I’m fine.”

He tilts his head, then shrugs and takes a sip.

The others snicker.

You sigh.

Later that night, you sit beside him on the rooftop, watching the stars.

“Sabo,” you say carefully “do we… act like a couple?”

He hums “Why?”

“People keep saying we do.”

Sabo leans back on his hands, thinking. Then he smiles “I guess I can see why.”

Your heart skips a beat “You can?”

“Well, we’re always together,” he says easily “I trust you more than anyone. You take care of me, I take care of you. Feels normal.”

You stare at him “That’s… kind of a couple thing, don’t you think?”

Sabo looks at you for a long moment. Then he smirks.

“Well,” he says, voice teasing but gentle “do you want it to be?”

Your breath catches.

And suddenly, the answer seems obvious.

Sabo has always been easy to be around.

You never have to force a conversation. Never have to second-guess his presence.

He’s just there, a steady warmth beside you, the hand that always steadies your back when you walk through the Revolutionary camp, the person you find yourself naturally leaning against when you’re tired.

And the thing is?

He never pulls away.

Even now, sitting beside you near the fire after a long day, his arm rests lightly along the back of your seat. Close enough to feel, but not demanding.

It’s natural.

But tonight, something’s different.

There’s a quiet between you, not uncomfortable, but charged with something unsaid.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly your head is resting against his shoulder, and instead of shifting away, Sabo just exhales softly, tilting his head against yours.

You close your eyes, feeling the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“…I like this” you murmur, barely thinking.

Sabo hums “Me too” A pause. Then... “I always have.”

Your heart stutters.

Slowly, you lift your head, turning just enough to meet his gaze.

His expression is calm, too calm, like he’s waiting for you to understand something he’s known for a long time.

And you do.

Because of course it was always him.

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

Instead, you reach up, gently tracing your fingers along his jaw.

Sabo closes his eyes briefly at the touch before opening them again, watching you with something unreadable, something deep.

Then, without hesitation, he leans in.

The kiss is slow, certain.

It’s not rushed, not desperate because this was never a question.

It was always going to be this.

When you part, Sabo lingers, his forehead resting against yours.

His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together easily.

“…Feels like we should’ve done that a long time ago” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours.

You smile “Maybe. But I think we got here at the right time.”

Sabo chuckles softly, squeezing your hand “Yeah. I think so too.”

And when he kisses you again, it feels like something that was simply meant to be.

[fireladyofink]

Oh God.. uuhhhh.. been a minute since I tried one of these..

Skipping 1, hate first person, just can't do it, not even read it.

2 is 100% Andlàtkyn. There's some issues here and there but it will always be my pride and joy.

Due to not posting on AO3 (even though I really should be), 3 is mostly ineffective. Except Wattpad has tags. I'd say UTAU, dragons and crossover.

4, lol. Literally. Lately I keep using that (only when texting others) and it's bothering me. I feel like a simpleton because of how much I'm saying that, eugh.

5 I've honestly learned a lot while researching fics. For one, I found out lantana berries are toxic to humans yet taste like blueberries, and I have them growing in my backyard. They're actually my favorite plant! I love their flowers; so pretty, and they have such a uniquely funky smell as well. Part of why I adore them, it stands out so much without being a bad smell. And the leaves have a sort of citrus smell? I love lantanas.

6 I don't know. I've thought about requests due to the money, but I feel like I'd either struggle to start writing it or get carried away with it- or straight up not finish in a reasonable timeframe. Commissions? Like art commissions? Maybe in a few years when I'm more confident in my skills and also somehow have a drawing tablet to properly draw digitally. Something like that.

7 Either or. I love making sickeningly sweet coffee or various different teas.

8 Is honestly hard to decide! Off the top of my head I can think of Dust initially meeting Killer with the hilariously absurd question of "What do you mean you don't have a mouth? How are you speaking right now? Your ass?"

9 Believe it or not it was basically when I first got a phone and commented a short story in the comments of a YouTube video. Someone replied with a suggestion of Wattpad. The rest is history, lol.

10 Off the top of my head I can't think of anything beyond something very specific for the fic I've been thinking about again lately, Ninjagaësia. Only time I've written outside of the UT fandom too, I specifically want to get around to writing that version of Zane more. What I had planned for him is fun as hell. An absolute badass.

11 Lots of comments, votes and people enjoying it. Which, continuing the above mention, Ninjagaësia doesn't qualify for. Pretty unsuccessful, but for once I don't really care.

12 Undertale AU's. I doubt I'll ever leave, either.

13 No. Hell, my ultimate fic of Andlàtkyn was written throughout the later half of highschool. I am technically working on an original story on the sidelines, I call it my worldbuilding project because I'm building up so much lore in this world before I actually touch on the story itself outside of a vague idea. About 60-ish different species of people, including the were-diseases. Last I counted, anyway. I'll be working on it for years, I know it, and I don't mind that either.

14 Comments talking about my fics on said fics. Actual interactions! It brings me joy. 🧡

15 My family is well aware. I don't bring up a lot of details but the last time I went into vague detail with my mother it was over a scene in Andlàtkyn (no direct spoilers) and she interpreted it weirdly and now she teases me by asking if I'm killing babies again! A bit awkward..

16 Actually finishing a damn story. I don't mind the periods of no writing until I get inspired again, but what annoys me is when I can't seem to finish anything. Only ever finished Andlàtkyn. I still have yet to write anything for the sequel to it, either! Zeradelsída is still just a bunch of loose plot points..

17 I am semi successfully writing benevolent eldritch horror. It doesn't intend harm, but it is truly.. horrifying nonetheless. The uncertainty of someone knowing he died, feeling his own heart stop beating, and feeling something OTHER seep inside and force it to start again, pulsing in his veins, fusing with his anatomy, permanently altering both him and itself into something completely unknowable.. I'm rambling. Anyone who hasn't seen my Wattpad, read Awakened. If you don't mind ridiculously long fics, read Andlàtkyn too!

18 I have at least 7 I mostly expect to finish, with at least 4 others just kind of.. there. I don't think I've posted any of those, either. I also have ideas inspired by dreams that I'd love to write down someday, though don't really expect to actually codify.

19 I kind of just don't. I work on different projects as the inspiration hits, take a backseat for a month or so, then come back to either the same project or a different one.

20 Hmmm.. Hard to think of something specific. I'm leaning towards stuff in Andlàtkyn. I don't really have a favorite kiss scene because I don't do romance. I write adventure! Andlàtkyn has some side romance though- not that any of it is my favorite. Platonic stuff, though.. I'd say my favorite is honestly Lust and Alter incidentally befriending each other and becoming venting buddies. It's the cutest thing, their friendship is adorable and wholesome despite the background angst. I didn't write nearly as much of them as deserved.

21 Honestly it's mostly lack of inspiration that I'm pretty sure stems from depression. If I could get an ADHD prescription or depression meds I'd probably be a lot better but like. I am completely broke. So much so that those issues aren't even in the top 10 of pressing problems solved with money.

22 Given I've literally only done it once.. not really. I guess I post it around everywhere I can think of in excitement?

23 That one continuous dream I had that went on over a month centered on a Nightmare that was freshly corrupted. He was honestly so nerdy and adorable despite putting on the brave and mildly "evil" front. The boy. Him. Goddamnit I want to write that at some point.

24 Honestly I can't think of anything for this one.

25 Oh yeah, I can't think of anything off the top of my head but there's a lot I'd like to fix in all of my stories, lol.

26 Kind of? It's a more recent development, did it for Zeradelsída which still has yet to be written, did it for that Ninjagaësia too. A little bit of a broad, even vaguer outline for things I want to happen in Awakened, too? More like events, no particular order or connection.

27 A few of those WIP's that haven't been posted... Okay technically just one. There's also the very first fic I wrote that is subsequently the only one I've ever deleted.

28 Angstiest often coincides with cursed for some reason, so I'll just go with the ending of Andlàtkyn for the Apple Twins.

29 I kind of just.. don't. If I do, I start hating everything, and because I'm not THAT bad at spelling and grammar I think it's mostly fine the way it is.

30 Oh absolutely. It's particularly obvious when one looks at Andlàtkyn, which I wrote over the course of 4 years. Really neat transition, if I ever manage to do it, I'd rewrite the beginning a little to match the rest when crossposting to AO3. If I ever get around to that.

31 Again, Andlàtkyn. That fic is my baby, man. It's so precious to me.

32 Honestly I don't know for this one, which is weird.

33 100% Ink of Awakened. My little boy. I have some friends that would rib the hell out of me if they ever found out, lol. Thankfully the main one doesn't even remember that he has a Tumblr.

34 I was not expecting how hard of a question this is! I thought it was Andlàtkyn, but thinking about it.. I don't think so? It might simply just change depending on which one I'm currently fixated on, but at the moment I think my favorites to get that on is Awakened and Ninjagaësia, second of which already has basically nothing to begin with.

35 I don't have anything, oof.

Fanfic/Author Ask Game

Write a scene from [insert fic] in another character’s POV

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A character you enjoy making suffer.

A character you want to protect.

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Wild Card: Ask me something else!

[girl-lostconnection]

Hear me out, on another hybrid AU:

guard dog!Soap x cow!Simon x Wolf!Reader.

Stay with me, Soap who is supposed to protect Simon.

Soap whose whole job and existence revolves around keeping big beast of a man safe and sound in his bloody flower fields from the likes of you.

Johnny who retires early with Simon and swears to himself he will make the most of it.

That he will give Simon the life he always deserved.

The peace and the joy and the quiet.

Simon who’s taking to the leisurely life surprisingly well, enjoying quite a lot the ability to sleep in the grass for like 12 hours a day, flowers swaying over him, his tagged ear twitching when the gust of wind or a fly disturb his peace.

And you as a wolf absolutely enamoured with Simon but so wary of Soap, because he’s big and loud and he doesn’t take any shit from you. Not letting you come even close to his big charge.

Simon who’s not worried about you lurking on the outskirts in the slightest.

You are not big enough to pull him under, but you are hungry enough to get desperate.

He knows you don’t want to eat him.

You just want to eat something.

Anything that will sate the ache in your belly.

You, who bristles at the sight of Soap jogging Simon’s way — hound’s sensitive nose picking up the intruder, because that’s who you are.

A stranger in their warm bubble of a life.

You don’t belong there, but god knows something soft aches just below your thorax when you watch them have dinners through the windows of their kitchen.

You are careful — a predator in their prime, steps deceptively soft, shoulders rolling when you stretch out, globes of your joints popping softly.

You are beautiful — tail swaying with every step, eyes bright and sharp, fur hugging you up.

You are dangerous — sharp rows of teeth and deep-chested growls, fingers with claws flexing, muscles moving under your skin.

And you are alone.

Soap notes it after a few weeks of them watching you. He was tense about possible pack or other wolves coming with you to try and see if they can simply take what they want.

But no one comes.

It’s just you.

Johnny doesn’t want to feel bad for you because it’s none of his business, he doesn’t have to care, not when you are still very much of a threat even all on your own.

Simon watches you from the corner of his eye, when you circle him, but never come too close — sitting on the edge of his field. As close to the tree line as possible.

That’s smart.

Johnny is fast and Johnny can be really fucking mean if he thinks someone disturbs Ghost’s rest.

But you don’t do anything. You just watch him, your face tinted with something he can’t quite make out — you are too far away.

Simon sighs and flips on his stomach, his head getting propped on his palm, his eyes squinting when sun hits them.

He wonders what drew you out of the woods to their cabin.

He wonders how long have you been alone.

He wonders how hungry you must be to leave whatever safety your territory gave you to come out and watch him from distance.

He wonders why you never attack.

You should have at this point, you even look hungry — swaying a little from how lightheaded you probably are, eyes glued to him, tongue swiping over your lips.

Simon sits up on the grass and you step back, ready to retreat. Skittish thing.

Where is your pack, big bad wolf? What are you doing out here all on your own?

Soap sits in the shadows, not far away from Simon, ear twitching as his eyes narrow. But you just step back into the tree line before you finally turn your back to them.

Still hungry. Still dangerous.

They shouldn’t care, but Simon knows hunger and people being wary of appearances all too well and Soap is the ever bleeding heart.

Soap can respect that you came to show yourself and didn’t try to scavenge what you could. Didn’t slip in their pantry, didn’t steal one of the hens he takes care of. You didn’t take what wasn’t yours. That tells him a few things.

Ghost pretends he doesn’t notice when next time Johnny leaves out a plate with food.

Soap in return pretends he didn’t see Simon wash said plate afterwards, brown eyes burrowing on the food that’s got left on the plate.

You ate just a little bit of what they left.

Like you weren’t sure how much was allowed to take. Like you didn’t want to take too much.

Johnny sighs and doesn’t growl next time you come back to watch them in the field.

You are tenser this time, eyes sharp and wary on them — flickering from one to another. When Simon moves to flip on his belly you don’t wait for him to sit up — you leave.

Simon hums to himself and shakes his head when Soap gets up to follow you. No use.

You know these woods better than they do and you clearly aren’t in the mood to talk right now.

Even less than you usually are.

(Wolves are proud creatures. Polite but proud. Perhaps their pity was worse than your hunger. Only time will show)

That night Johnny leaves out another plate and you don’t touch it this time.

You disappear for two whole weeks before you finally come back — lip split, gashes on you already scabbing up, bruises blooming like dark violent watercolours.

Soap can’t help but growl, but immediately falls silent when you sneer in return, upper lip raising to bare sharp canines. Not a pushover, aren’t you?

You are hurt and wound up.

You don’t realise Johnny wasn’t growling at you, but for you.

Simon doesn’t move, watching how you limp to your usual fallen log where you sit and watch him.

At this point it’s a little ritual of yours. You come out more often than not, you sit on the other side of the field and you watch them.

So Simon stays put and tension slowly bleeds out of you. Like you needed this moment of peace and quiet. The routine that grounds you back, holds you together when you need it the most.

This flower field with the two of them living inside their warm bubble of a life.

Life you never had. Life you aren’t sure you will ever get.

Deep seated jealousy sticky and so sweet on your teeth it hurts.

Simon huffs air out softly and lies back on the grass, stretching out to his full height and well, showing off a little bit.

Afternoon sun is soft and warm on his skin, flowers’ scent cloying his head — his eyes half lidded and thoughtful when he watches you.

What happened to you, big bad wolf? Who hurt you? Why are you still alone?

But you don’t answer, tail awkwardly wrapped around your hip, arms curled around you, crossed over the chest with palms tucked in your armpits.

You are visibly tired.

Whatever the hell happened it took a lot of energy. Healing up even a little probably took even more out of you.

So it’s no surprise that you are slower to react when Simon sits up, it’s not surprise you are sluggish and exhausted. That you stay on the edge of their field when usually at this point you leave.

But the wayyour temple tilts on the trunk of the tree you lean on is a surprise. The way your lashes flutter down, even the way your breath evens out.

It’s the first time you fall asleep in their presence.

You sleep for a few hours, waking up when sun starts to set down — slowly uncurling from your position. Probably sore as hell, it couldn’t have been comfortable to sleep sitting on a log.

But you just shake it off like it’s nothing, small wince passing through your face when you move a little too quick. Yeah, definitely sore. Bruises now aching and tugging with every movement.

You watch them for a second too long, your mouth falling open as if you want to say something. But nothing comes out of it and you just stalk back into the woods.

Big bad wolf, all alone on your menacing forest kingdom. Nature’s aid, isn’t that how they call you? The species that weeds out overpopulation of those who aren’t supposed to survive.

Simon wonders how bad things are in the woods if you are this hungry. By the looks of it, so does Johnny.

Where is your pack, big bad wolf? Why are you all alone?

The next day Soap gets out on a mission to find out what has been happening in the damn forest. He makes it far enough for the tree crowns to start covering the sky, branches so thick it’s dark in here even in the middle of the day.

He makes decision to turn back only in the evening. When he realises you have been tailing him for a good hour now.

Eyes sharp and steps soft, your frame merging with the shadows in the corner of his eye.

Nature’s aid, biggest menace in these woods, bad wolf.

“Don’t leave him alone. It’s not safe.”, the words reach him so suddenly it doesn’t immediately register for him that you said something.

That’s the first time you spoke to him.

To be completely honest, up until now he wasn’t even sure if you even can.

“Talkin’ about Simon?”, Soap inhales air, scents merging into something he can’t quite make out. But he definitely knows the main note, one he smelled way too often during his service. The one that to this day makes the fine hairs on his neck rise. “He ‘s a big lad. He can take care of himself”

You huff out air — half amusement and half annoyance, still not stepping out in the light. So Johnny steps closer to you instead. The note in your scent hits him harder, cloying at the back of his throat.

Blood.

“Ye’r hurt”, he murmurs, eyes tracking you carefully. He knows that hurt predator is an easily agitated one and he’d prefer not to find out the strength of your bite today. “What happened tae ye?”

You huff air out again and retreat deeper, your eyes shining through the darkness, your shoulders rolling when you get lower and start walking.

So here’s that. Conversation over, he assumes.

Soap follows you, for some bloody reason. You know these woods better than they do. He doubts you are leading him to certain doom. If you wanted to kill him, you could have done it before.

No one would have found his body this deep in the forest.

But you silently lead him out to the their flower field. Exact spot where you usually sit watching him and Simon. So, definitely not doom. Just a different trail.

“Dae ye need hulp?”, he probes again, stepping out in the field.

Giving you space.

Woods are your territory, he knows better than to overstay however long you tolerate him there.

But whatever happened to you must have taken a significant toll on you. Because instead of snapping your jaws at him to urge him move his arse away and out, you pause contemplating.

Johnny takes the chance, gauging that your silence means you probably need it. You don’t want to ask for anything but you are in no position to refuse it.

“Ah will lea’ supplies oan the porch”, he just says and turns around not waiting for an answer.

You are not the most talkative person, aren’t you?

Jesus, he’s just surrounded by silent and resilient types.

First Simon, now you.

“I don’t need your pity.”, your words reach him, tone more tired than sharp like you say it just as a precaution.

Johnny can’t help but flash you a grin over his shoulder, iron of spiked collar a snug fit around his throat.

“Guid. Fur ye aren’t gonnae git any.”, his retort leaves you speechless, his grin only widening when you blink at him in astonishment.

Got you there, didn’t he?

“Bear traps.”, the notion is quiet, he’d probably miss it if he wasn’t this close to you.

But the request itself makes him cock his head to the side. Why would you need any?

But Johnny stays silent and you interpret his puzzled look your way.

“You asked if I need help. Bear traps. That would be a big help.”, you explain and he almost starts shaking his head at you.

No, he gets what you need the question is why do you need them.

But you are tired, he can smell your blood and he’d bet his left arm you are hungry as a (no pun intended) bloody dog.

So he just nods and turns away, starting to walk home — flowers grazing his thighs, light of their cabin flickering at him through the window, wind chimes dingling in the air.

They found out a long time ago that you aren’t going to attack them from the back.

He doubts you will change your mind in the current state of yours.

“Goodnight, wolf.”, Soap murmurs for some reason and swears he actually hears a breathy chuckle.

Sound sends shivers down his spine.

“Goodnight, John”, you muse back so soft he actually stops, head snapping right back, hoping to see your face in the moment.

But when he turns around — you are already gone. Only shadows twisting at the edge of the tree line.

Simon pulls him in a cuddle as soon as Johnny steps through the door, his big frame wrapping around Soap like a heavy blanket, lips demanding a wet hungry kiss.

Soap just pulls him closer, tail wagging so hard he almost smacks their coats off the hanger, grin widening.

Night is young and warm — sweet scent of flower field and Simon’s hide wrapping around Johnny.

The breath of air is soft on his skin, sheen of sweat covering it when he rolls his hips, strands of outgrown hair sticking to his forehead as he fucks his husband in their bed.

Big palms splayed over Simon’s back — forcing him to arch harder, pushing his face down in the pillows, wet greedy heat of him pulling Johnny deeper.

Needy fucking thing, Soap was gone for barely a day and here is what he comes home to.

“Shuid keep ye stuffed a' th' time, doll. Fuckin' meltin me down thare, aren’t ye? An' 'ere ah thought ye were goin’ tae tak' the wolf instead o' me.”, Johnny growls, driving his cock just deeper into Simon, smirk — a wicked sharp thing — widening when Ghost clenches around him.

Oh, someone is fucking excited at the mere thought of that.

If it was anyone else Soap would have been already reeling with jealousy, mild possessive streak of his baring teeth to sink them into Simon’s flushed nape, tongue gliding to collect the sweat and blood.

Renewing the bite that has already scarred.

They are each other’s forever and always and Johnny is not giving him away.

But Johnny doesn’t mind taking you in.

Johnny doesn’t mind getting both of you — he has two hands after all and bed big enough to fit all three of them. You’d slot in nicely, he can already picture it.

You — with your wild eyes and sharp teeth and this fluffy fucking tail driving him positively mad.

Fucking tease, he would have pressed you in the grass, closing his jaws down on your throat, marking you for all to see if he could.

His herd and his mate. His wolf and his pack.

Maybe he is a greedy man, but he made peace with that a long time ago when he got his eyes on the heavy beast of his lieutenant.

“Ye’d lik' that wouldn’t ye? Getting that wolf in oor kip, feeding thaim proper 'n' pumpin' thaim silly. Or letting thaim fuck you silly. Doesn’t that sound lovely, mo chridhe?”, Johnny breathes out in Simon's ear, his chest pressing down on Ghost's back, hips moving.

Takes a lot to mount a man like Simon Riley but Johnny has been doing a job of it so good, it is (to his absolute elation) Riley-MacTavish now.

“Talkin’ too much”, Simon breathes out, stubborn and beautiful and god, Johnny isn’t sure how it’s possible to fall in love with someone again and again, but he does.

Every day, every breathing moment of his life.

As long as he is alive — he will love this man.

Forever and always.

“Can’t hear ye, doll.”, Soap growls softly and circles the rim of Simon’s hole stretched thin around his cock, eyes darkening when Ghost clenches down on him like a vice. “Ye gotta speak up.”, but with the way Johnny moves inside of him it feels impossible to talk coherently.

Not when Simon’s eyes roll back, jaw going slack because this is good, hot molten honey of Soap’s words spreading throughout his body, burning tender nerve endings.

This is perfect, his husband a big mean guard dog always on alert, always hungry for more and more and more.

Sharp teeth and sharp taunts, bulk of him moulding Simon into pliant shivering mess, sweat and slick dripping down his thighs and he’s hot.

God, he’s so fucking hot.

Drunk on pleasure and heat of summer’s night, soaked in Johnny’s affection, littered with Johnny’s bites.

Simon turns his head on the side just to take a proper breath, cool air kissing his skin — his face red and sweaty, when his eyes zero in on your eyes in the window.

Fucking hell.

He should be fucking ashamed of how hard he clenches down on Soap when you cock your head — eyes heavy, glinting in the faint shimmer of their porch light.

You are bloody enjoying it, aren’t you?

You just stay there, watching him with the same quiet intensity that you show out on the edge of his field. Always so far, always out of reach.

Teasing him.

Soap’s hand finds its way between Simon’s legs and he is coming apart at the seams, drool dripping down his chin, eyes fixed on yours in the window because that’s fucking perverted.

He’s letting practically a stranger watch him getting fucked by his husband. He should be reeling, should be pulling out the hunting rifle and having a few words with you about privacy and boundaries.

But the way you watch him…he can’t stop looking right back at you.

He can’t stop himself from thinking whether or not you’d prefer to bend him over like Soap or be good and let Simon get a proper taste of ya.

He’d like both.

He wonders what would it take for him to pull you under.

Not much probably.

Just a little patience and a sliver of luck.

Just enough to catch you off guard.

Soap comes next day to you being pulled under Simon’s bulk, his thin tail with the brush on its end flicking from side to side, your legs twitching on both sides of Simon’s hips.

You are no small prey but Simon is massive and he pins you down hard enough to render you helpless.

His body slotted between your thighs, taking up more space than you would usually give him (if you would have given any at all).

He hums, ignoring Johnny’s amused huff and presses a kiss to your cheek, smiling when your body melts into his.

Someone’s fucking starved for affection, poor thing. Don’t worry, they can take real good care of you.

Simon tuts at your attempt to wiggle yourself from underneath him which is fruitless endeavour at best — even Johnny knows better that to try and pull him up when he lies down.

So you shouldn’t try either.

Especially when you should know better than anyone that he’s not moving anywhere until he sees some fucking honesty from you.

Can’t act all coy and prideful when he saw your pupils blowing wide yesterday, your eyes dark eclipses, shining through the fucking window.

Can’t pretend you don’t know where this all is coming from when he already have seen the hunger with which you watched them.

No need to be cold and hungry, when you are more than welcome to stay with them.

When they can keep you warm and stuffed and fed.

You growl at him again and earn yourself nothing but click of his tongue and a pull in a wet sloppy kiss that ends as soon as it started.

Almost costing you a needy whine.

Simon doesn’t care much for your growls and kicking, his nose nudging your jaw so he can properly nuzzle into your neck, breathing out in content.

Much better.

You smell like woods and wolf — wet soil and pinewood, fur and salty sweat. Simon hums to himself and presses his hips down on yours, rolling them in to grind into you.

The sound you make sends a shiver through both of you.

“Won’t hurt you, pet, I promise”, Simon rumbles out and you’d snap back at him but he grinds into you again, pressing more of his weight and the friction is so delicious you lose your mind a little bit.

“Jus’ like that, m? Feels good, doesn’t it?”, he murmurs, lips trailing down your neck, bulk of his body heavy and heavenly on you.

It’s more than good. It’s maddening.

His teeth nip your ear and you downright whimper, thighs clamping down around him, heels digging in his lower back.

Sensitive little thing. How cute.

Simon licks the sweat off your temple and presses a tight kiss to it as he keeps grinding down on you.

Heavy in the most delicious way, his dark eyes softer than you expected when your lips fall open.

Scratch beast’s belly and the gate will open right up.

Simon takes his sweet time with you, not in any hurry at all, drinking in every gasp and whimper of yours, murmuring in your ear praises.

“Doin’ so good for me, luv. Wanna see more. Can I, luv?”, his palms slide under your dark shirt and you whine, tugging him closer.

“Just a lick, sweet’eart, gonna get just a little taste”, Simon promises, when he pulls your sweater up. His tongue sliding over your nipple, lips closing around it as he sucks it in.

His mouth hot sinful thing, his hands rubbing the inner sides of your thighs until you relax and allow your legs to fall right open for him.

Here we go.

“So pretty for me”, he rumbles, pleased glimmer in his eyes when you buckle your hips up to grind on him.

Needy little thing.

Sweet as honey and dark as a night.

He should have snatched you off your bloody spot on the edge of the field ages ago. “Gonna let me have a taste, will you, luv?”

His grin downright wicked when you nod, biting your lips to muffle the gasps and all these little sounds he coaxes out of your throat.

Ghost doesn’t waste much time, pulling the rest of your clothes off and tossing them aside — grass soft and tickling on your skin, his palms rough and heated as he settles between your legs.

Tongue slowly sliding up to the sensitive top of you, lips wrapping around it, teeth grazing when the bastard smiles at your pupils blowing wider.

Your eyes — dark hungry abyss.

Your eyes — an endless fucking well and Simon wants to jump right in.

His grin only widens when another set of hands pulls you a little higher, palms settling just under your chest, stubble scratching your jaw.

“Huvin all the fun wi'oot me, aye?”, the man breathes out and you shiver, his fingers kneading the soft parts of you, his thumbs playing with your nipples almost lazily.

He’s beyond relaxed in his advances, charming lilt of his voice making your head spin.

“Someone’s sensitive”, Soap chuckles when your eyes glaze over, his teeth grazing your throat, tasting the blush spreading across you like wildfire.

Deliciously pretty. He might just have to eat you up.

“Don’t get shy wi' us noo, pup”, he is heat and he is want, his hands groping and massaging, his hands piecing your back together after Simon takes you apart.

Soap feels like salvation, his hunger familiar to you, his needs feeling so similar to yours it’s almost like looking in a distorted mirror.

But he chuckles, thumbing your nipples and you whimper, skin tingling with heat, wet mess between your legs.

Simon’s head is bobbing when he steals glances up at you two — eyes heavy and dark you feel your vision crumpling around the edges.

Afternoon sun soft on your skin, smell of flowers cloying your head, scent of Soap’s sweat making your mouth water and you need-need-need, please, just this once, please you can’t—

There is a raw desperate sound rumbling through your throat and Johnny smiles.

Johnny breathes our “bonnie”, Johnny holds you in place and plays your body like you are the instrument he has been tinkering with for ages and now he finally knows how to make you sing.

Smug asshole.

He clicks his tongue and his palm smacks the softer part of your chest, sting spreading to hard nipple, white-hot pleasure rewiring you to hell and back.

Simon holds you wide open and drags his tongue up, fingers groping the fat of your inner thighs, pleasure echoing through your body just so he can pour in more.

You are full and overflowing, you are needy and hungry.

You want everything and at once and it never felt this good or this right.

“Be good, pet”, Ghost sucks a hickey in your inner thigh and grins when Soap’s hand wraps around your throat and you slick sensitive part of you throbs. “Nice and pliant for us, aren’t you?”

Pretty fucking wolf, too bad you don’t have any pack, no one is coming to get you.

Too bad they won’t be letting you go anyway.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

SPOILER SPOILER

new yuu for the scara manga. Credits to magister_xehanort on reddit. Doesn't she looks cool?!! She kinda gives me kalim vibes since she looks bubbly. What do you think miss raven?

I already gave my (very brief) preliminary thoughts on our new Yuu, Yuuna Oujou (I must stress it is NOT Ojou) in this post. I would be more than happy to expand on those thoughts here though ^^

So firstly, this Yuu is a girl--and a very feminine presenting one at that. This supports the theory that each manga!Yuu will be going in the boy-girl-boy-girl order, or perhaps the opposite gender of the Great Seven member of each book/dorm.

I think it's great that we have a very femme Yuu in official Twst media; it definitely adds to the diversity of the Yuuniverse. I especially appreciate what this implies about the NRC cast: they don't treat a girly girl significantly differently (whether being overly nice, overly mean, or overly awkward around her) than they would a masculine-presenting or nonbinary Yuu.

One thing I LOVE about Yuuna is that she actually has several unique interactions with the NRC cast and the world. Part of why I don't like Yuuken or Yuuka as much is because their level-headed personalities didn't lead to them really changing much about how they interacted with this new environment + people (other than the occasional change, like Yuuka squaring up to fight). I liked Yuuta a lot more because he has way more moments to "be himself" in the world, like using his cooking to convince Leona to let him sleep over in Savanaclaw, being softer around Jack, and having a backbone when Grim tries to hurriedly cram food into his mouth before class. Yuuna goes even FURTHER than that. She has her own nicknames for each character, takes selfies with them, literally plunges into Kalim's Oasis Maker water without a care in the world, plays dress-up with the shiny stuff in Scarabia's storage room, freaks out about the bugs in Ramshackle, and SO much more. Yuuna legitimately feels like a part of this world rather than a passenger in it.

I think we should talk more about how Yuuna dresses! This is known as gyaru, which is a Japanese fashion subculture typically known for its rebellious outfits, tanned skin, big and/or dyed or bleached hair, many accessories, and exaggerated makeup. It is also associated with a particular attitude or behaviors, such as being outgoing, sociable, and energetic. The name gyaru (ギャル) originates from a Japanese transliteration of the English word 'gal'. I believe the style originally developed in the 1970s as a statement of nonconformity to Japanese beauty standards (which emphasizes being pale-skinned, dark-haired, and demure in their appearance). Gyaru was originally considered very inappropriate, and the older generation tend to stereotype it as frivolous and associated with adolescent delinquency. In the west, it was even sometimes mistaken as racist depictions of dark-skinned people. Nowdays, gyaru is more understood as being a way for people to break out of conventional beauty standards set upon them by society.

What Yuuna wears, as one of the anons shares, is a substyle of gyaru called kogal or kogyaru (子ギャル or コギャル). The 子 or コ (ko) in kogyaru means "child", referring to the childishness or youthfulness of those who typically wear this fashion. It is defined by those who wear clothes resembling Japanese high school uniforms with alterations and flairs made to them. (These alterations are usually frowned upon, as Japanese schools are very strict about wearing their uniform properly.) This could include alterations in color, wearing one's uniform differently, wearing loose socks, shortening the skirt, and/or adding accessories to bags. We may also see bleached hair and/or tanned skin. This substyle formed in the late 1980s and early 1990s, but is popular in modern day, as it has been picked up and promoted by Japanese media.

As I mentioned in the original post, Yuuna comes from the countryside and she helps her family out on their rice fields. However, her dream is to become a model in Tokyo (this is what her audition was for).

We don't get to see a lot of her parents, but I don't get the impression that they disapprove of her fashion or life choices. They just short of tell her off for looking at magazines while she's supposed to be doing something else. They allow her to go to a modeling audition too, rather than taking efforts to prevent it or to shame her from going. There's also no bullying alluded to or mentioned; I genuinely don't think Yuuna is supposed to have a tragic background. (None of the other manga!Yuus did, either.) She just has an interest in this fashion, and there doesn't have to be a deep or trauma-related reason for it. Simply her being into the gyaru subculture makes her a foil to Jamil. Gyaru is all about expressing oneself, even if society frowns upon it. Yuuna is able to be "true to herself" in this way, despite coming from a humble background. She is also willing and able to help her family out with their rice fields--but her aspirations lie elsewhere. Jamil isn't able to do the same. His family actively opposes his decisions and put him in a position where he isn't able to freely express himself or pursue anything other than what he was born into. He comes to resent what his family does and how he is forced to comply with it.

It's also interesting that her bubbly personality is also similar to Kalim's. Yuuna is shown to get along with him very well and is super friendly to the other NRC students, just like Kalim is. I wonder if this also plays into why Jamil thinks she can be easily manipulated (since he was also able to easily manipulate Kalim in book 4). He may underestimate them because of their similar personalities.

One last thing I want to note is 🤔 Yuuna continues the pattern of all manga!Yuus having surnames related to death... Her surname, Oujou, sounds like おうじょう or 往生際 (oujougiwa), a word that can mean "rebirth in another world", "a calm and peaceful death, "to breathe one's last", and/or "the moment before death/the brink of death". Ominous...

[moon-ttokki-x]

Hii! Your 9th member fics are what keeps me going, they're all so good. It's unbelievable!

Would it be okay for me to make a request? Maybe headcanons on how would the members act around a short reader (even shorter than Changbin)? Who would be helpful, who would be annoying? And what if the reader is the type to steal their clothes?

The brainrot is real... I'm not even shorter than Changbin... but I had a dream about it...

once i had a dream where hyunjin shaved my head so 'we could be matching' and i woke up sweating . . . another time i had a dream where jisung and i got into a dating scandal so he picked me up and ran along the beach while JYP was running after us shouting 'break up' sooooo . . . it's a stay thing

skz x short 9th member!reader

pairing: ot8!skz x short 9th member!reader

summary: how skz would act around a short member (who's even shorter than changbin)

genre: crack, idol! au, that's literally it. pure crack. and some fluff. also little shit!maknae line au. but. nothing else. i think.

a/n: divider by @saradika-graphics

skz masterlist

first of all

skz have decided that you are an armrest

so you can just be standing anywhere

and some member will come up to you and just

rest their arm on your head or lean on you

usually it's hyunjin bc he's tall, or minho bc he's a cheeky shit

jeongin did it once and you threatened to bite him

so he never did it again

you let chan and felix do it tho bc they're sweethearts

they don't rest their arms on your head, they do it on ur shoulder which is acceptable

han tried to do it once and he missed

and then fell over

like really badly

anyway

not a single day goes by when you don't have to ask someone to get something down from somewhere for you

perpetual aching in your tippy toes from how much you stand on them

you do try to be helpful, just at a lower level

during dance practices, you're always the one to turn the studio music on or off bc it's closer to the floor

you just bend down and tap the music off

which saves most of the members backache ahem chan

especially felix, who has back issues and isn't supposed to be doing that kind of stuff

sometimes you just turn the music off altogether and disrupt everyone

which results in a defeated lecture from chan and an intense glare from minho

he loves you really

you also spend most of your time thrown over changbin's shoulder

he's overjoyed to have a member who's shorter than him

most of the members usually poke your sides and try to make changbin drop you

they stopped doing that after you accidentally kicked seungmin in the chest

puppy didn't talk to you for two days

you also love stealing their clothes

they're just so comfy !! and they smell good !!

they're also ideal to sleep in bc they're so oversized, so it's like a blanket in itself

you can just pass out anywhere

like a kitten

and you usually get carried back to the dorm like a child

being the shortest also means being the brunt of most of skz's teasing

at this point the boys care more about your height than they do about chan's age

which says something

but they know when to stop, because they know what it's like to be teased about something they can't control

so even though they can be annoying, they also try to make things easy for you

you hang out with jeongin a lot

you two maknaes kind of found each other and as a result, spend a lot of time together

which usually means you passing out at jeongchan's dorm instead of the minsung dorm

did i mention you live with minsung ??

anyway

most of the time you're splayed out in innie's bed

or when he has a late schedule and you're waiting at the dorm for him, chan lets you sleep in his bed

and then forgets that you're in there

so when he actually decides to sleep he gets the scare of his life because you're curled up under the sheets

you def own lots and lots of chunky boots and platforms

you love that sort of stuff, not just because of the height it gives you

also useful to kick people

especially sasaengs

but the maknae line comes in handy for that sooo....

no need tbh

honestly i think any of them would be willing to fight for you

even hyunjin

(even tho hes a stick figure and has the combat strength of a singular wet penne pasta)

in reality, you really do try your best for skz and work as hard as you can

often it's the guys who tell you to take breaks or help you to slow down

bc you're just so go go go all the time

and you don't realise how tired you are until changbin sits you down on the couch

and felix hands you a bowl of something hot to eat

being with them is one of the best things that has ever happened to you

so

no matter how short you are, it doesn't matter

bc you want to be with them as long as possible no matter what the circumstances are !!

<3

a/n: i like the divider hehe

[iturmom]

fuck it i'll explain myself real simple like line by line so everyone can understand because i'm sick of thinking about this.

1 idk who anthony bourdain is. my tags are not in response to him as a person or his character but what he is saying in this snippet of an interview. i still haven't looked him up and it doesn't matter because i am not making a character judgement of him. i don't give a shit about his character. his words were a conversation starter for me, nothing more.

2. it gives off alpha male vibes. does that mean he's an alpha male? no. am i suggesting he's friends with andrew tate? never. again i am saying nothing about his character, just the vibes of his words. people are so much more than just one out of context conversation.

3. judging a woman for how she eats is inherently misogynistic. she's been literally trained like a fucking animal since birth to eat dainty and be ashamed of everything. and now you're judging women for the way they were socialized in a patriarchal society where boys are allowed to eat like animals but girls get shamed for it. now a man is shaming girls for the way they've been conditioned. he's not only talking about his wife he is talking about women as a whole as if women are a monolith. because when you say something in a public forum like an interview in a famous publication i assume that is obviously seen by many people, when you suggest things about women, it can be internalized by every woman or afab who reads it. he should know this when he is speaking in public platforms. any public facing person should know this, i mean they make money off this fact

4. no one seems bothered by this one thanks

5. or this i guess?

6 7 & 8 i think i explained pretty well? i can clarify further tho

9. i don't eat for a man's entertainment or lack thereof i don't eat for men! fuck anthony bourdain for the tiniest annoyance of the slight implication that women's eating habits have anything to do with a man. i'm sure someone has said fuck anthony bourdain before and got drinks afterward with him. i imagine that's how celebrities live sometimes idk? so yeah i think he can handle an internet stranger saying fuck anthony bourdain on a post he'll never see? i don't think he cares really he has a lot of money

10. the implication is there bc he gave many examples which were exclusively meat, and one cheese which is. idk not much better? cause like i don't eat meat so is he suggesting that when i go on a date i'm supposed to order a whole block of cheese and just bite straight into it like an apple? no he's not bc he's not thinking about vegetarians bc it's impossible to go feral over a vegetarian burrito, over a veggie burger, is what i'm kinda taking from where his focus lies. doesn't eat meat= dainty= unsexy= bad. not necessarily in that order but these things seem to be implied.

after that i just devolved into irrational anger for the drama. i thought that was pretty obvious by wishing he steps on a lego and not wishing actual suffering on him..... sorry it didn't play very well i guess

also never said it was a joke. i don't do comedy. i was exaggerating my emotions for the drama. if you don't like people who exaggerate their emotions sometimes then my blog is not for you and that's okay!

[reignpage]

hi hello reign🧎‍♀️ had a silly (horny 😇) question, how do u think the edenu jjk men are when drunk— like i can imagine gojo being all clingy and needy with reader so my question goes more about that sort of thing. maybe the question could be like how do you think they get when they’re drunk and needy/horny?

Gojo: he is indeed clingy and needy

First, he’s very hyper, bouncing off the walls and screaming. He’s a lot. But then he crashes quite badly and he’s all mopey, hair flattening, and he glues himself to reader’s side. Or if reader isn’t there, he’s spamming her phone, crying to anyone and everyone who’ll listen that he misses his girlfriend.

He just lies in her lap, rambling about whatever new hyperfixation he has. Doesn’t ever stop talking, but what’s new. However, when drunk, he is a little more sensitive. So if reader looks at something else for even a second, he’s pouting and accusing her of not loving him.

He’ll go on a strike, giving her silent treatment but that never lasts long lol. He forgets all about why he’s upset and he plasters himself to her again.

Very sensitive when drunk. Will cum at the drop of a hat. He's cocky at first but once reader pushes him, he's ready to call her mommy (and he does).

Geto: depressed

He becomes very quiet and contemplative. More so than usual. He has a high tolerance. He’ll sip on whiskey or something and watch out the window, just thinking about everything. If reader’s with him, then it’s just a lot of comfortable silence.

He also becomes quite appreciative. He gives a small smile and brushes her hair back, muttering how lucky he is to have such a ball of light with him.

Doesn’t sleep.

Just thinks.

As for being needy, he's always very in control. But when he's drunk and needy, it's the one opportunity reader has to lead. She never lets it pass. So, she makes him beg, makes him whimper, edges him again and again until he's disheveled and in near tears, too languid to do anything about it

Reader also uses this opportunity to do some of the things her sister recommends like roleplaying, wearing costumes etc

Choso: horny

Very very horny.

He can’t take his hands off reader. He’s leaking in his boxers, whimpering if the wind so much as blows a little too hard past him. He also becomes dominant. He pounces on her, not even bothering to remove all their clothes off properly and he slides in and uses her like a toy. I don’t even think he realises what he’s doing. Reader’s probably high and finding all of it so funny.

The next day, he won’t remember a single thing and when reader tells him everything he did, he’s blushing and denying it.

That doesn’t sound like him, he says.

You’re just teasing me again, he says.

Toji: very high tolerance, never gets drunk drunk tbh

Always very responsible. He gets tipsy at most and he’s taking care of everyone. He doesn’t like to drink too much or too often because it’s not good for his health and god forbid he gets a beer belly. Just becomes louder and a little more clumsy, like he waves his arms too hard and too fast. He really had to be careful around reader because he becomes a not so gentle giant and he’d be very upset if he accidentally hits her.

Just not too fond of alcohol generally, especially because he’s around college students and he knows how they get. He never wants to lose control and become violent and aggressive.

He’d hate himself if he became sloppy.

So yeah, can't really say much about drunk and needy Toji. He's just the same but maybe more clumsy and less rough since he's conscious about his movements and the fact that being inebriated means he might be more prone to pushing things too far

Nanami: more dominant and more pathetic

He alternates between two different moods as we’ve seen: dominant Nanami and yearning Nanami

He rambles a lot about physics and science, he’ll talk anyone’s ear off about his dissertation and his phd etc. he also becomes less guarded, becomes more expressive and honest.

Rarely gets drunk, in college his tolerance sucked but as he grew older, he turns into an alcohol connoisseur. He appreciates whisky and scotch and wine. So he just sips and tastes but never downs a shot or something

OH and he loves drunk sex, the way it's sloppy, everything's extra sticky, and the haze makes his orgasm much stronger than he can tolerate otherwise

OH OH OH and he lovessss cockwarming when he's drunk. He drinks whilst he's inside her, and he occasionally, and purposefully, spills some of his drink on her so he can lick and suck it off her skin. Nothing could possibly taste sweeter than bad habits paired with her sinful body

Sukuna: murderous and sweet

MAN SHOULD NEVER HAVE A DRINK PLEASE TAKE IT AWAY FROM HIM

He lets slip his inhibitions and everyone's lives is ruined. I don't even want to get into it. He's so easily triggered when he's drunk. And he's also very destructive. He'll destroy rooms in whatever establishment he's getting drunk in whether that's a bar, a restaurant, a freaking karaoke place, someone's house, his own house etc

He's just sadistic x 100000000000000000

When drunk and needy, he's very very sweet. Again, one of those rare moments where his guard goes down and he doesn't want rough sex, he just wants to hold reader. If she's still working in her office for example he'll come in, ignoring her venomous demands to get the fuck out, and he'll kneel between her legs and eat her out. He's not even trying to bring her to orgasm, he just wants to taste her. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all. Just eats her out for like an hour, she cums like five times, and then he wipes his mouth, gives her a pec on her lips and another on her head, and then he leaves

[optimisticmosquito]

Lan wangji is very lucky (unlucky?) that there were no popular fujo book clubs in MDZS like in SVSSS. Imagine if MDZS had their own liu mingyan? Complete and utter anarchy.

LMY would never let such a juicy story as the one of hanguang-jun and yiling laozu lay untouched. No, she would dig her fujo nails into every little detail she could find.

Their apparent hatred for each other during their studies? Enemies to lovers, we're already to a great start!

They fought and killed the xuanwu of slaughter together? A lot can happen between two men when they are alone in a cave, you know~ *slams down 100k pure filth featuring the cave, wound care and some intense hate sex*

She'd even research the rules surrounding the lan headband after she heard about the incident. In fact, it features heavily in many of her explicit chapters.

Hanguang-jun searched for yiling laozu after he went missing during the war? Ohohoho, and you want to tell her something didn't happen in those caves.

And then the two went back to hating each other during the war? All couples need to go through some hardship. Oh, hanguang-jun, to see your lover turn to evil and being unable to do anything. Her book club is gonna eat it up!

Then the fight in Nightless City happened and hanguan-jun fled with his lover. Rumor has it he even fought some of his own sect members to defend the evil yiling laozu. Oh my, oh my~

Not to mention she heard a rumor from a member of the lan clan that he went to visit the burial mounds after yiling laozu's death, and came back with a child! She's writing so fast she's going to pass out! Oh but the timeline doesn't add up. Does that mean the honorable hanguang-jun visited the burial mounds to sneak some time with his lover? How scandalous! Write that down, write that down!

It doesn't take long before all of her books are in circulation through the entire jianghu. The lan's are thrown into pure chaos as ppl ask if they are hiding hanguang-jun's and yiling laozu's secret love child. LWJ can't step one foot outside without ppl whispering. The Jiang sect is demanding they hand over the child to them. It's a mess.

And then WWX returns, but at that point the books are old news. He doesn't hear much about the story before one of the juniors brings up the rumors around it. And, well, isn't that really silly. Him and LZ? Now that he thinks about it... But haha, the man used to hate him! How can ppl believe this admittedly well written slop. "Right, lan zhan?"

"Uhm lan zhan, why are you looking at me like that?"

Oh, and there he goes. Bet those two are gonna be really busy for a few days.

And LMY has a new story to tell.

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

//the slightest of shaking you

Sonic's ego is actually used for the delight effect on his friends hhhgh your killing me with wholesomeness/j

I wonder though, is there's ever any nonverbal platonic methods aspecSonic could have developed?

Aroace Sonic pt 8 (no they're not dating)

Sonic’s got all kinds of ways of showing affection. Obviously there is more than just these, it’s just all i doodled last night before passing the heck out in bed hgLKJSDF

1. Sonic usually moves away if anyone expresses active verbal dislike of his physical affection; Knuckles is the exception to that rule. He would genuinely throw Sonic through a wall if he actually didn’t like what he was doing, no words required. But Knuckles is touch starved! He doesn’t know how to do this whole physical affection thing, and most everyone else is kinda nervous about crossing boundaries with him so it means he gets very little touch. Sonic notices that and instead of drawing attention to it, he just invades personal space like the gremlin he is and no one questions it, chalking it up to his usual antics. Knuckles gets a safe place to get the physical affection he needs without worrying about how it looks and Sonic gets to love his friend, it's a win-win. (Rouge is p much the only other person chill with touching Knuckles casually since she’s just comfortable with physicality and not the least bit nervous around him.)

2. Speaking of Rouge she and Sonic are very silly with physical affection because Rouge is extremely comfortable expressing herself physically and Sonic is chill with p much any small gestures because its just another way of showing affection. Platonic cheek kisses and aggressive flirting are pretty normal for them! They find it funny to fluster other people this way.

3. Sonic will very randomly just plant his hand on someones face if they're standing close enough. No context, no warning, usually they're not even part of the conversation that's happening and he doesn't move it off unless they move it themselves or it's time to leave. (He does this whenever he notices someone zoning out or look like they might be lonely since they aren't part of the main conversation to make them know someone else notices they're there and cares.)

4. Sonic's physical affection is so incredibly casual that if you're around him long enough it kinda starts to fall of your radar and you just stop noticing when it happens, (i.e Tails.) It's much more common than his verbal compliments so it ends up pretty commonplace. Physical touch is actually his first go-to unless the person is really touch-averse.

5. Falling asleep on people is his ultimate weapon because they're less likely to try and escape if he's asleep (cat sleeping on lap rules sorry.) The other reason is because they're free to be as soft as they want without worrying about him using it to gloat at them later. (A lot of stuff this dude does is hecka strategic.)

[junkdrawerthoughts]

You guys, I am down on my hands and knees begging you to please stop putting random things in the {character} x reader tags. 🙏🏻

I’m talking about things like answering asks that don’t have the fic actually written in the ask, random life updates, random story non-updates apologizing to the entire fandom for not updating or saying that you plan to update soon.

And please, can we stop tagging other characters x reader fics in another character’s x reader tag?

I’m really bad at gauging how things could come across over text, so I wanna clarify just incase that I don’t mean this in a hateful way at all. It’s just that it makes it so incredibly hard to find fics when the tags are filled up with a bunch of other stuff, you know what I mean?

Take Azriel for example—Azriel x Reader is incredibly popular, and that’s totally fine, but the Azriel girlies don’t have to spend a whole lot of time looking for Az fics, because he’s a fan fav and lots of writers enjoy writing for him. But then if you go and tag Az fics or other posts in the Rhysand or Cassian x Reader tags, it makes it difficult for Rhysand and Cassian girlies to find the fics they’re looking for. They don’t get as many fics written about them, so it pushes those fics down deep in the tags, and it kind of becomes a hunt to find them sometimes.

And once again using the Az tag as an example for posting random things, because Azriel gets so much attention, having a bunch of extra stuff in the fic tag pushes a lot of stuff down. So, if somebody were to take a little time off tumblr for say something as little as a week or two, it takes infinitely longer to catch up on all the wonderful fics that have been posted because you have to scroll through a ton of other stuff that either aren’t fics or aren’t Az fics.

I say all this because I’m a mood reader. The batboy that I’m fucking with today depends on how I’m feeling, so I bounce around a lot, and it can get frustrating sometimes trying to find fics—especially older fics for say Rhys or Cass once I’ve read everything current.

We all know Tumblr tagging sucks and the search function is kind of ass, but they don’t really seem to care about that lol, so we kind of have to help each other out by making sure we tag things properly and leave out things that don’t belong, you know?

P.S. I’ll probably get rid of this in a couple days so it doesn’t clog up the tags, but I really kind of needed to talk about it a little because it’s been bothering me for months.

[sylussweetie]

“CALL ME BABY”

Desc. What kind of fathers the LADS men would be. The kinds of kids they have. The brief dynamic amongst the children.

Featuring. Xavier, Zayne, Sylus, Rafayel, & Caleb! All x Reader/MC (separately)

w.c

A/N: Not me making problems for children. Also, the break my nuts game is a real game. My auntie was watching over some kids that were friends of a friend and they were jumping off the couch onto a firm triangle cushion trying to “break their nuts” crazy work btw, 10/10 parenting somehow

Xavier. He get’s a boy and a girl as twins. The older one I see taking on his more stoic and responsible attributes. The second kid, taking on his sleep everywhere traits but is a bad bitch on the down low. Second kid’s just unmotivated and unbothered.

Imagine it like this, if they were to grow into a high school setting, the archetypes of the first kid would be a student body president or have a role in the student body (they’d be arguing with Zayne’s kid for that role). Then the second kid would be just a “average” student with extra brain cells but wouldn’t want to put them to use. As they’re much more content with going to sleep and not exhausting as much energy as possible but when it comes to being relied on, end up being very reliable.

They def bicker a lot but not as much as Rafayel’s kids (Which we will get to later).

Xavier def treasures those kids. They would take on his hair but your eyes and have features that mostly resembled you with his cosmetics. He and second kid would get along fine and would cuddle together growing up because of how much they SLEEP. Imagine second kid clinging onto Xavier when he has to go to work. All like “daddy no! Don’t go!” Grumbling and gripping onto Xavier’s shirt.

Xavier’s oldest and him bond over simple talking, quality time in… cooking for you.

“But you’re banned from the kitchen.”

“Says who?”

“Mom.”

“She won’t even notice.”

“She will if the house is gone by the time she gets back.”

“I wasn’t aware the house could teleport. It must have been an oversight when I bought it.”

“Dad.”

Oldest kid loves practicing against Xavier with the sword. Second kid gets too dejected easily and does not truly want to do Xavier gets his fun out of oldest child. Teaching his oldest kid all the tricks he learnt and if anyone tries to get too close at school he gives them permission to defend themselves. If you know what I mean.

The oldest kid inherits Xavier’s light evol. They def train together. The second kid doesn’t care but they’re like a naturally talented and gifted sort of genius who doesn’t have to try. I’d say they’re really good at the sword with bad evol control or have skilled evol usage with a lack of effort or skill in sword fighting. One or the other.

The kids ask about how you and Xavier fell in love and Xavier’s always so sentimental when he tells the story. His rendition. Something you haven’t heard from him before but did now. First kid is sitting obediently at his side and looking up to the face of their father listening intently. While second child is lazing with their head on Xavier’s thigh as Xavier brushes their hair.

Zayne. Zayne feels like a girl dad or a boy dad, but with only one child. Honestly if he has a girl first, it’s a single child. If he has a boy first, then he has a young girl right after but when the boy is 5-7 so they have a pretty decent age difference.

Girl dad Zayne loves his baby girl. So, so much. She’s taken on your features, your hair, your eyes. I guess the only thing she has of his is the cold personality. Though not really cold, just shy and then with your chipper excitement whenever she lights up at anything she loves. Is also a lover of dessert. You have to yell at them both when they sneak away extra macaroons.

Zayne knows it’s wrong but can’t help it when she gives him the puppies of eyes.

Zayne’s son has almost all of his colors save for his features. He’s inherited the eyebrows for sure but the other features are yours. Sculpted soft nose and cushy cheeks. When he was born, Zayne couldn’t help but ghostly pinch at the chub of his newborn son. Almost looking akin to that cheery little seal he would always craft out of his evol.

Zayne’s daughter loves her big brother so, so much. She walks to school with him while holding his hand and skipping with the biggest, toothiest smile on his face. Whenever you give her candy she always saves a piece to share with her older brother and loves to tease him with sticky candied fingers. She adores being twirled around by him in the air and it always ends up with you having to warn them to be careful not to fall. She’s the only one she has such an easy time showing emotion with (besides you guys).

When she gets older she stops trying to be so reliant on him. Especially in public, she’s so independent and self reliant to everyone else, but at school she gets all embarrassed and shy when her big brother comes into class to remind her that she forgot her water bottle. Or that mom told her to eat all the veggies packed in her bento. Her classmates all awe at him and how cool her big brother is.

Zayne’s son is hardwired to look after his wittle baby sister. He can’t help it, she’s so cute. But also as he grows older he begins to wish for time to himself and independence from having to be an older protective brother. With so much weight on his shoulders he begins to act out and at some point claims that his dad only cares about his baby sister and that he doesn’t love him. (He’s a pre-teen give him a break).

All is resolved of course after a talk and that Zayne assured him he loves him, and pinching his cheeks.

Zayne’s son being the cool VP that hangs around and lets the kids chill from the rules while Zayne’s daughter in her generation is the president and is def more strict.

They both inherit Zayne’s snow ability but to your Evol versatility. Zayne’s son specializing in more imaginative moving creatures while Zayne’s daughter specializes in ice in the form of intricate and sturdy sculptures.

Rafayel. Rafayel has a girl, and a younger boy. No questions asked. Only like 3-4 years apart. The older girl is a sassy version of him, if not sassier. She has his hair, and his eyes. Although the big bug eyed version of them where it feels like she’s constantly staring into your soul. Constantly has them tied in adorable little pigtails at the side of her that swish back and forth when she shakes her head “no” especially when she was a toddler, a little pout on her face, lower lip jutted out as she crosses her arms with watery eyes peaking up at you both.

She is in fact a daddy’s girl, but very much still loves you. When she was younger she’d fight you over who got to cuddle dad in bed until Rafayel just tucked himself in the middle and cuddled you both. When she’s older she’s much more content with just you, and in fact finds her dad’s possession of your time to be really annoying. She wants to go shopping with you, for you to do her hair. For you to bake with her.

If anything, she kinda feels bad when she was younger for preferring her dad over you and wants to remind you that she loves you, too. Especially when you had her brother. Who took up most of your time. This was when she truly noticed the loss of your attention.

She kinda bullied him a lot too lol. But not too harshly, usual sibling banger of chasing each other around with a knife and threatening death. Then consoling and begging not to tell mom or dad. With her is the only time he’ll ever fight or argue back. But in a shy “leave me alone!” Kid sort of way. They bicker and banter back and forth. “Go climb a tree! Bug eyed freak!” “I hope the sharks eat you! You’d taste better than the grass!”

Rafayel’s son is much shyer. With one eye the color of Rafayel’s gradient hues and the other one of yours. He’s quite different than the both of you since you’re both so bold, especially with each other. He’s sensitive, and very shy. When he was younger, he’d often liked to be held by you and would bury his chubby face into your neck. He likes hiding behind Rafayel’s leg in public when he has his art galleries cause he still likes to see the pretty art his papa makes.

He loves to paint, Rafayel and him bonded that way. Rafayel somewhat got him out of his shell when his son was gifted the most talented artist award in kindergarten. In middle to highschool, Rafayel’s son gets pretty famous for being such a talented artist (but often gets compared to his dad and how he can’t live up to the original). Oh well, guess that’s why his older sister is there to beat them all up.

Younger son has evol doing with painting. The elements he paints come to life for a momentary period of time. He’s still learning to use it. Older sister has Rafayel’s fire evol. She’s more of a fighter though like her mom rather than a “dainty” artist. However, she fights with a force and grace of that of a well practiced and skilled dancer.

Sylus. Twins. Two girls. One boy. Just a five year age gap. His little girls are fierce and bold. Just as daring, sly and cunning. He spoils them SO much. They come back from weekend shopping trips from different parts of the world, sometimes richer in fashion and sometimes richer in mind. He definitely takes them to explore other cultures and they bring back souvenirs from their travels.

His girls love to hang onto Sylus like little monkeys. Very adventurous. If one of them is climbing his leg, the other one is hanging off his arm as he holds it up like a branch. Even as they get older to beg him for something they use this tactic.

As for his son, Sylus likes to sit with his son. It’s kind of strange cause the little boy is so quiet. Sylus likes to clean his guns with his son. Having the little child sit on the couch just staring blankly at his father reload and clean a gun. Of course, safety first.

His son inherits his animal loving trait. Horses? Check? A strange forest water creature? Check. A beaver? Strangely yes. Cats? Especially cats. If he goes outside expect him to come back with at least one cat that managed to follow him home.

“Who is that?”

“That’s Mochi and Miles. They’re brothers, Mochi is really nice but Miles is really mean.”

He looks up at you with those puppiest eyes, “Can we keep them?”

Before Sylus was more adept as a parent he had Mephisto watch over the twins in the crib. He had a special crib made with a perch sturdy enough to hold between two cribs so the crow could look over them all at once.

After you found out you scolded him, “what is a bird going to do if they’re in danger?”

“CAWCAW.”

“He’s going to do that.”

Luke and Kieran love the girls. Twinsies!!! They play house with them, feed them, albeit they’re both very clumsy in trying to feed the stubborn kids. The oldest is definitely very impatient and eats as fast as possible to go play, a choking hazard. The second one is patient and eats slow while transfixed with the TV, also a choking hazard with how distracted she gets. They both are very worried, very paranoid, very protective.

On the playground a little boy comes up to give Sylus’s second daughter a flower, all blushing and unable to meet her eyes as she’s more confused rather than thankful. But take it anyway. Luke and Kieran watching the whole thing interrogated the poor kid.

This kid is someone in Second daughter’s class that always remains behind the scenes throughout the years. In middle school he’s a pimply nervous kid and gets a completely glow up in high school that has every girl blushing but he only has eyes for second daughter.

Kieran and Luke refer to the son as little monarch. Throw him up in the air and like to shadow box with him. They’ll come out from the shadows and as Sylus’s son is throwing a punch, they’ll dramatically toss themselves backwards and groan in pain.

First daughter is chatty as FUCK. Wanting to know everything about her baby brother while second daughter watches and observes.

“Mommy, what does he eat?”

“Milk.”

“From a cow?”

“No.”

“From your nipples?”

“Whe-where did you learn that?”

“Did we drink from your nipples too?”

“Sylus!”

Sylus’s son is much more deadpanned, reserved, less excitable than the girls but just as adventurous if not more bold because of this personality difference. He gives off little shit energy. He’s a menace who does what he wants and loves to piss off his older sisters.

However, he’s a mommy’s boy. Prefers to spend days with you whether it be action based, training in the ring or relaxing, spa based. He loves both because he wants to spend time with his mom.

Very often it’s Sylus showing you PDA and all three of the kids BLEGHING at the sight. Although they acknowledge that they’re very lucky to have healthy, loving parents.

The oldest twin and son takes on the more physical attributes of both their parents. They both love boxing. While Sylus’s second daughter is more elegant and dancer-like. She’s more nimble and lean. Definitely took acrobatics when she was younger.

Second daughter takes on Sylus’s evol but in a ribbon leverage sort of manner. Kind of like Spiderman in movement and functionality but with evol strings. Son takes on mother’s attribute of physical combat with Sylus’s build. Think of the “BEAT HIS ASS” audio and that’s the vision you get whenever he fights. He grows to be way taller than his sisters. Older daughter is a combination of both, a master of none but a jack of all trades. She’s got skilled abilities in fighting, and evol manipulation but it’s her father’s manipulative eye that she’s got the most handle over out of the three.

Caleb. Caleb would have twin boys, one girl. Six year age gap. He’s hoping for a kid to look like you, but the twins share his resemblance. It’s extremely uncanny. The only thing they’d have is your nose bridge and eye structure. Otherwise it’s those beady lavender’s staring right back at him.

Metal arm Caleb is especially careful of holding the kids, definitely letting his more fleshy one being the one to hold his kids. Especially before they can even crawl, open their eyes, etc. He really wants to hold both kids in both arms, he’s strong enough to but is too afraid of hurting them. As they grow older they get used to their daddy’s “robot arm” and begin to ask questions about its origins and how other daddy’s don’t have robot arms.

They’re also very mischievous. Grabbing each other’s hair, especially as infants who can crawl. The youngest in retaliation always grabs the oldest’ hair and never lets go until he gets a toy. Or as they grow older, throwing dirt in the other’s faces, stealing a portion of their food but never taking each other’s portion of dessert because that’s sacred. Not as bad as Rafayel’s kids but 100% more physical.

They’re also both sort of manipulative. In the cute little shit way and less of the egotistical man sort of way. They want simple things like candy, not world domination (yet). They both also fight over your attention, and fight their dad for your attention. Caleb makes it very well known his little shits can’t have you at night but you will most certainly tuck them in.

The kids always BLEGH whenever he calls you pipsqueak or anything super endearing. With such love in his voice and heart eyes, a hand around your waist and leaning down to kiss your forehead. Such a love they cannot fathom just yet as they repulse is disgust at the affection.

“Momma we can kiss you way better than papa can.”

“Yeah, papa’s icky right now. He’s got cooties and germs all over him.”

“Your momma loves my cooties just fine.” He teases them with a flick to both their foreheads.

He loves flying paper airplanes for them, especially when they were toddlers. The way the two of them would toddle after an airplane mid flight with wide soft lavender eyes. Caleb also regales to them old “war stories” about being on the fleet.

They think he’s the coolest when he’s telling them these types of stories. They also try to play fight with him, all about how their evol is way stronger cause they’re younger and he’s a sad old man. He obviously beats them, never lets them truly win and it’s only after about three times does he let them succeed in “defeating” him.

The boys are just menaces, playing dangerous games like jumping off the couch like a ninja or climbing on each other’s shoulders. Jumping from the couch onto—albeit—soft cushions to play the “break my nuts” game they made up on a whim.

You and Caleb are both exhausted but happy. Yet there’s just one more thing he wants…

When Caleb gets his daughter she looks just like you. His hair but your eyes and your features. He loves her so much, adores her. The very first day you gave birth to her he wouldn’t put her down. His finger presenting itself to her tiny soft grabby little hands as she grips onto his larger finger tightly. She can’t open her eyes yet but her mouth is agape with the tiniest and most adorable little “o” as if she’s perpetually yawning. His mini pipsqueak.

The boys are rough players, and very loud, very destructive. You both cannot have nice things for long. You wonder how they’ll be.

When Caleb presents to them their baby sister they become quiet. Unknown with the little creature that sits so small and quietly in their father’s arms.

“Why is she so wrinkly?”

“Why is she so small?”

“She’s shaped like a potato.”

“She’s wrapped in a blanket, and you were small and wrinkly once like this too, y’know.” Caleb teases with a small grin.

The second oldest talks at normal voice level—loud—and Caleb has to shush him for fear of waking up the baby. They don’t think it’s much of an issue but after that they have to deal with crying in the night at fuck who knows hours and second oldest is a light sleeper so he definitely hates having the little potato around.

The boys hate how they have to tiptoe around her for the longest time while she’s this size. They’d get to a point where the oldest decides to rebel and the second son follows his lead and they both start screaming and hitting pots and pans. They’re such menaces.

Poor little Caleb’s daughter, with her baby ears and sensitive sleep schedule. He obviously yells at the boys and makes it very clear they can act like this again when she grows older.

They sort of resent her for a small period of time but grow to become fond of her when she’s a toddler. She cries less and sleeps through the night. Through exposure she’s gotten attached to her big brothers and sits by them whenever they’re watching a movie or follows them whenever they erratically walk around the house roleplaying as far space pirate.

They’re both very attentive and aware of what will hurt her, albeit not because they were taught to be Caleb but because they’ve learned to care about her safety over time. She fell down the stairs once? Her crying broke their hearts. Oldest kid kicked the stairs in anger and started crying because he hurt his foot. Second kid kicked the stairs for hurting both his older brother and baby sister, also started crying because he stubbed his toe. All in all, don’t kick the stairs.

As she grows older the boys tease her and kind of leave her out of things when they play together. They’re not exactly mean or cruel but they grew up together and prefer their boy time with one another. However, it doesn’t mean that they don’t feel bad about preferring playing sometimes without her. After they’re satisfied they also return to her with an apology and promise of the new big adventure the three of them will be on together.

When her hair’s longer, Caleb takes extra care to brush it, style it and takes care of her like he did for you when you were both younger. His little princess.

Don’t even mention boys or the possibility of her dating, it’ll break his heart knowing no one is good enough for his little girl. Not to mention the way the twins would erratically and immediately be threatening death if that boy were to do their sister wrong.

The twins inherit his abilities of gravity manipulation evol and the third inherits your abilities.

[ghostcam4812]

Dandy's World Glisten Redesign!

(My version/AU) Glisten!!! Our favorite perfect fashionista… Remember these r just my headcanons and you don't have to agree! ^_^ (sorry if this one isn't written as well! I'll work on fleshing him out better in the future) Glisten!!... What a complex toon... On the outside layers, he seems very two-faced. Some toons consider him stuck-up, even passive aggressive and rude where he means to just be snarky. His sense of humor and wording can often fall flat, leaving him feeling embarrassed; though, less and less as he has learned to mask his "poor" senses of communication. ..But, all the more to practice! Glisten practices day and night, not only with how he talks, acts, and dresses, but with his abilities and skills. Everything is practiced, because everything must be perfect. He is nothing if not perfect, and no one can know that he isn't truly perfect. Toons tend to think he is overly-confident, self-obsessed and absorbed in his own world, that he cares only for himself and no one else. This is far from true, but, he must admit his image is important, and he doesn't really know how to balance his life. He is often overly anxious, so worried about what others are thinking of him, and what could go wrong, when it'll go wrong, and so on... He doesn't take breaks when he's supposed to, overworking himself to passing out or even injury. He doesn't listen to his friends when they tell him he needs to stop, because there's no time for a break! In reality, Glisten is horrified of the concept of passing time, and he is so scared of what the future holds that he fears he has no "time to waste"; including breaks, relaxing, or spending lots of time with the people he loves. This causes him to become... somewhat isolated from the other toons. The only toons who truly know any extent of his issues is Rodger and a few others (I haven't decided yet lol), though Rodger has taken up as basically his therapist friend. He loves his friends, some are even family to him. But he is always, always scared deep down, that if he isn't perfect, or the way they expect him to be... they will abandon him. And he'll be alone. Forever. ...But! There's no way that can happen, if he just keeps practicing and, well, pretending... and if time never truly passes, and if nothing goes wrong or changes. Right?

Dandy's World art & hc/au info requests open (including OCs for art) in my ask box! I will have delayed responses (as of posting), especially to things I want to give art with on my answer! :} Might not have another big redesign art post like this for a bit, sorry! But hang in there, I'll be back on track, hopefully soon! 💓 thank you SO much for all the support, it genuinely means the world to me and has made me feel so much better in my life lol 💞🥰

[andreilslovechild]

A Study on Aaron Minyard and Hatred

I've been in this fandom for years now. somewhere around 5 years or so. and since I've been here there's always been a distinct theme in how people talk about the brother of our beloved main love interest. see people speak about aaron in two ways mainly. the first way is, of course, labeling him as hateful and homophobic and disliking him because he dislikes Neil. the second way is building on his more personable characteristics and having him paired with someone else like Katelyn or Kevin to mellow him out. both of those are all well and good, everyone is entitled to their opinions and all, but I've never quite seen people look at both of those sides at the same time so I want to try and consolidate my thoughts on the matter.

first of all, I personally rarely consider aaron inherently hateful in my own understanding of him. annoyed or disgusted sure, but not necessarily hateful. mainly that hate is focused on three people from what the fandom talks about: Neil, Andrew, and Nicky. I'm using hate a broad term for dislike just for the ease of things right now so don't yell at me, but I think it fair to say the fandom typically pits these three up against aaron in a way that makes aaron look like the bad guy a lot of the time.

if I'm honest, I never really felt he hated Neil more than just didn't care much. at least until he found out about him and Andrew and gave him his version of the shovel talk. maybe a bit when Neil used Katelyn against him. but overall I never quite got it when people said he hated Neil, let alone hated him for "no reason". like id be annoyed too if a guy waltzed onto my college sports team while im studying premed, and turned out to be the long-lost son of a serial killer with a mouth so big it was a wonder hes still alive. plus he was super shady before all that was revealed too, but aaron was still pretty neutral when Andrew brought Neil into the monsters. he even spoke back to the upperclassmen when they freaked out about Neil sitting with the monsters. if you all need me to get the quotes I will, but it's currently like 2am, and I just can't be asked right now lmao. either way, the only time aaron really hates Neil in the books is when he uses Kate against him to get him to go to therapy. which was done for his own good in the long run, and I doubt aaron stayed upset about it for too long. plus we always have to be careful here because we are seeing things from Neil's perspective, someone who is inherently an unreliable narrator in the story.

in Nicky's case, there's a lot to consider. aaron definitely does and says some things (again not finding specifics rn because it's 2am) that are hurtful to him, or offensive. I certainly don't really blame people for reading it as homophobic on a surface level. but that's exactly what it is. surface level. his feelings about Nicky are probably the second most complex in this instance. because Nicky is his cousin, caregiver, friend, whatever you want to call him. They're close, they mean something to each other. but aaron also grew up with Tilda, probably talking with his family over the phone every few months, seeing them maybe once a year or two. when aaron moved to South Carolina he was 13. Nicky would have been 17. aaron probably spent a lot of time with him at first to avoid being alone before he made friends himself. used him as an excuse to get out of being around Tilda alone. which undoubtedly left him susceptible to Luther's preaching. I could make a whole other post on this alone. Still, he would have known Nicky was gay and that it was "wrong". He likely saw only his mask, not the depression inside because Nicky would have wanted to be happy with his cousin. he probably was around when Nicky went to Germany and then came back loud and proud, telling him about a man named Erik and finally standing up to his parents. to us, it's inspirational, exciting even, but for aaron it was like Nicky was abandoning him. He had gotten through Nicky being gone with drugs and staying out of the house as much as possible, but now knowing Nicky was leaving him there alone with his mom for what he assumed would be forever would have hit him hard. he never hated Nicky for being gay. he was angry he had left him, and he had grown up surrounded by the ideals Luther preached and likely his mom did too. with that, plus how uncomfortable it would be to have your cousin being openly sexual around you to an extreme extent like Nicky, I don't blame him really for how he reacted. he was disgusted by the thought of his cousin having sex, not who it was with. I can't remember if his disliking Erik is a canon or fanon thing. Still, he disliked him for taking Nicky away, not because he was a guy. Long story short I don't think aaron ever truly hated Nicky or was truly homophobic. I think he was just a scared kid who learned the wrong words and didn't know how to be vulnerable.

Andrew. good old Andrew. the most complicated relationship in Aaron's life save maybe his mom. I think we all know aaron doesn't hate Andrew. just like Andrew doesn't hate aaron. it's impossible for them to hate each other because they are so irrevocably tangled up and tied to each other's lives. from the second they found out about each other, everything they've done has been for the other in some way. mostly on Andrew's end sure but aaron has also done his share. see out of everyone here I think Andrew is the person that aaron thought he hated the most. he was angry about Tilda, about the drugs, about how Andrew refused to look at him. but deep down he knew he couldn't really hate Andrew. if he truly hated him he wouldn't have stuck around him this long to try and form a relationship with him. he wouldn't have bothered renewing their deal after graduating high school. he may have been stubborn and confusing and made aaron want to pull his hair out in frustration, but I don't think hatred for Andrew truly existed in him. For certain actions maybe, but him overall? definitely not.

Aaron Minyard may have been complicated, cranky, and annoyed for the majority of the times we see him, but he never truly hated anyone. not in the way people seem to think at least. and certainly, never the three people hes accused of hating the most.

[elenasalvatore1]

I have to make a remark that I meant book!Ginny Weasley. And I meant bookHinny.

One of the most important thing is that Ginny a bit cruel in her jokes. She uses people's weaknesses to laugh and look good against their background, which is a very mean trait. Remember Ron. He really wanted to join the team. Ron is insecure, and Ginny knows it. What Ginny does is she trips up and makes fun of Ron in front of the team and calls him an idiot. It's very cruel. it is not the issue of the age. It is her age. She uses people's weaknesses to laugh and look good against their background, which is a very mean trait. Remember Ron. He really wanted to join the team. Ron is insecure, and Ginny knows it. What Ginny does is she trips up and makes fun of Ron in front of the team and calls him an idiot. It's very cruel. Ginny doesn't care about other people's emotions. Considering that she has no idea what Harry has been through, the fact that Harry is an introvert, the fact that she doesn't try to get to know him, is not Ginny's advantage as Harry's partner.

Mrs. Weasley and Hermione didn't approve of Fleur. Ginny pretended to be sick and was really insulted by the "cow" but she smiled than to Fleur’s face. It is hypocritical.

Second: I can’t agree with you in part that She doesn’t love Harry for his popularity. She loved him because he is a heroic friend. She uses a lot words for that «you was too busy to save world », « I like you so much because you can’t be happy if you don’t fight against V. », «she never gave up on him » and she asked Hermione how to get a guy, when she even didn’t talk to him. The statement that they spent a lot of time doesn’t work here as she started from crush, she used boys to attract his attention. So it has nothing with loving Harry. It is her idea to get a hero.

if you reread my « essay » you will notice Ginn’s selfishness. She always worries about Her worries, but she really does not care about Harry.

i like Harry so much as person, he deserves much more than such relations.

If you read more attentively you will notice, that I think that development for them as romantic couple should be at war. That is why « they grow up in romantic partner is not for them » that you mentioned. I suppose that their relationship could be the most fantastic example of true love. That is based on trust, acceptance, understanding, closeness that make people as the most important ones. And it is amazing.

in HP series there are other examples of friendship between male and female characters . Harmony will not spoil it.

Honestly, it's not important to me how predictable couples are. The main thing is how their relationship is developed. that is why I prefer Harmony with its depth and sense. By the way. and hinny are even more cliches. Hinny is a real Cinderella tale. Romione is a topic for a separate post, everyone in Romione will just be unhappy.

Hinny could be just a school romance but it isn’t connected with true love.

Ya'll really gonna come in here and tell me you love Harry Potter but you hate Hinny.

You're going to tell me to my face that you love Harry James Potter, a man who has been through so much. Lost his whole entire family., and you're going to deny him his greatest source of comfort.

Are you actually going to tell me that you think ferret face or someone who Harry has described as a sister to him is a better fit for him than someone who makes him happier than he can ever remember being.

He was willing to die happily just thinking about her kissing him. Literally his last dying thought but you're gonna come here and tell me that you hate true love.

Please.

[vandme12]

I barely see Ronin as a mechanic! Headcanons/Oneshots!

This was in my drafts for days..

You're not exactly sure how it happened. One minute, you’re flopped on Ronin's couch, droning on about how bored you are—how you could die of it, actually, right here, right now. The next, he's dragging you out to the garage like a wolf with a chew toy, all sharp teeth and brighter eyes, muttering something about “if you’re gonna whine, might as well make yourself useful.”

Useful, apparently, means learning how to fix cars. Because that’s what he does when he’s not busy tearing people apart. A little hands-on therapy. Take something broken, make it purr again. You guess it fits—devils need hobbies, too.

“I still think you should just let me die of boredom,” you grumble, arms folded as you watch him prop the hood open. It groans like a corpse stretching in its grave, metal rasping against metal.

Ronin snorts. "Dramatic much? C'mon, darlin', ain't gonna kill ya to learn how an engine works. Might even save your pretty ass one day."

You give him a look that could peel paint. "Or you could just fix it for me. That's what boyfriends are for."

That earns you a low, wicked laugh. The kind that slides under your skin and stays there. "Oh, sweet thing, you're in for it now. Open up those pretty hands—time to get 'em dirty."

He hands you a wrench, and you hold it like it's a foreign object. Ronin leans over the engine block, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, revealing forearms streaked in grease and little healing scrapes. He’s beautiful in the most ridiculous way: all messy burgundy hair, shark-teeth grin, and a nicotine burn low on his wrist. A devil working the bones of a machine.

And, lucky you—you get to be his little apprentice.

“So, what are we doing?” you ask, mostly to fill the silence. Ronin's in his element, already half-lost to the work. Fingers curling around bolts like he could coax the car to life with touch alone.

“Changing the spark plugs,” he says. Then, when you give him your best bewildered expression, he chuckles. “They help make the magic happen, baby. No spark, no fire, no joyride. Same as people, really.”

“Poetic,” you deadpan. “So, where do I start?”

Ronin tilts his head toward the engine. "Get in here, darlin. I ain't gonna hold your hand the whole way."

That is a lie, by the way. He absolutely will.

You squeeze next to him, shoulder brushing his. The garage smells like old oil, sweat, and something sweetly metallic underneath—not quite blood, but close enough that your stomach flips. His heat soaks into your skin when he leans in, hands guiding yours over the metal innards.

He explains things in that lazy drawl of his, a little smug every time you mess up. And you mess up a lot. Your fingers slip, your grip's too weak, you curse when you almost drop a spark plug into the engine. Ronin just watches, like he's enjoying the spectacle of you struggling.

“Y’know,” he murmurs, breath warm against your neck, “you’re real cute when you’re useless.”

“Fuck you,” you snap back, except it comes out a little too breathy. Which, of course, he catches. His smile goes sharp enough to cut.

"Careful, darlin'. Keep talkin' like that, I might start thinkin' you like it when I'm mean."

Your hands falter, and you feel his gaze crawl over you. Heavy, hot. You don't answer, because what would you even say? He's not wrong.

“Alright,” he says, voice softer but no less dangerous. “Tighten that one, yeah? Let’s see if you can follow basic fuckin' instructions.”

You try. You really do. But the angle's weird, and your fingers keep slipping, and why the hell is everything in a car so awkward? Your knee bumps against the wheel well when you lean in deeper, and suddenly you're halfway sprawled over the engine like a sacrificial offering.

Perfect. Exactly what Ronin wanted.

He catches you before you can slide further, one grease-slick hand curling around your waist. His other hand plucks the wrench from your grip with infuriating ease.

“Clumsy thing,” he drawls. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“You could start by letting me go,” you say, but you don’t mean it. Not even a little. And Ronin’s the last person alive to fall for your lies.

His fingers press harder against your waist. "Nah," he says, low and rough, “I like you right where you are.”

He kisses you before you can fire back. Messy, claiming, dragging the breath from your lungs. His teeth catch your lower lip and tug, pulling a noise from your throat you weren’t planning to make. The taste of him is familiar—smoke and something darker beneath it, something that’s always felt a little like danger. Like sin in the shape of a man.

When he pulls back, you’re half-dizzy. Your hands are still braced against the edge of the car, and you can feel how tightly he’s holding you, like you might slip away if he isn’t careful.

“See?” he purrs. “Told ya fixin' cars could be fun.”

“I hate you,” you mutter, but you press closer anyway.

He grins, blood-red and wicked. "Nah. You love me. Now, quit slacking and hand me that wrench, sweetheart. We got work to do."

Head canons!

"Bored, darling?" If you so much as hint that you’ve got nothing to do, Ronin’s dragging you to the garage. He’s already got his coveralls half-unzipped, grease smeared across his jaw like a smudged halo—saint of the scrapyard, king of the underworld. He’ll plop you in front of some busted hunk of metal and call it a “bonding experience.” (Translation: watching you struggle is his favorite form of entertainment.)

Zero discounts, actually. If anything, Ronin charges you extra. Call it the “boyfriend tax.” He’ll fix your ride, sure—but only after making you bribe him with a kiss (or several). You’re not getting off easy. If you try to sweet-talk your way to a lower price? He just leans in, smirks against your ear, and murmurs, “Ya know, darling, I could break it worse if you wanted somethin’ new. Keep me busy.”

His garage is your second home. He doesn’t just let anyone hang around while he works—this is sacred ground, baby. But you? You get to sit on the workbench, legs swinging while he’s half-buried under an engine. He’ll toss you snacks from his stash (suspiciously all junk food) and occasionally drag you over just to “hold something.” (Spoiler: he just wants you close.)

Oh, sweetheart, you thought you were getting a discount? Cute. Ronin charges extra for you—calls it the “Tax.” Every time you ask, he tuts like you're breaking his poor, mechanical heart. But let your car actually break down? Suddenly, it’s "Nah, baby, I got this." He’ll fix it before you even notice, no charge—he just likes making you owe him. (And oh, you owe him plenty.) "Ain’t about the money, darlin’. It’s about makin’ sure you need me. And you do, don’tcha?"

Every. Single. Time. You visit the garage, he’s sweaty, just to make sure you suffer. Bonus points if you’re there in the summer—he’ll stretch, flex, and wink while holding a wrench like he’s posing for a calendar shoot. Loves to call you his “little assistant”—but gives you the most pointless tasks. "Hold this bolt. No, not like that. With love, babe. Jeez, where’s your passion?" If you complain? You’re getting pinned against the nearest surface with grease-smudged fingers trailing down your jaw. "Maybe if you were good, I’d give ya the easy jobs. But nah, you like it rough, don’tcha?"

He makes you “help” with repairs. Even though you suck. But he’s patient—weirdly patient for someone with blood on his hands. He’ll guide your fingers over the engine, teach you the difference between spark plugs and fuel injectors like it’s the most romantic thing in the world. And if you mess up? He just laughs, leans over you, and drawls, “Cute try, baby. Maybe leave the hard stuff to me.”

Car rides are a whole other game. After fixing your vehicle, he insists on a “test drive” with you in the passenger seat. He drives one-handed, the other resting heavy on your thigh—like he’s claiming both the road and you. “Gotta make sure it’s runnin’ smooth,” he says, voice thick with innuendo.

Grease-streaked kisses. You always leave his garage marked—fingers on your waist, motor oil smudged along your neck from when he drags you close. And if you complain? He just grins. “Looks better on ya than it does on me, darling.”

Your vehicle has an unofficial VIP pass. No matter how busy he is, if it’s your car in trouble, everything else can wait. Doesn’t matter if it’s a busted tire or the whole engine blowing out—he’ll fix it, grinning like he lives for the chaos you bring. Just don’t expect him to let you off easy: “You keep breakin’ shit, sweetheart, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you just wanna see me sweaty.”

His garage playlist is insane. Half industrial metal, half bluesy rock—loud enough to shake the walls. You pretend to hate it, but there’s something weirdly attractive about watching Ronin, sleeves rolled up, half-cursing along to the music while elbow-deep in some Frankenstein engine. (And if you’re lucky? He’ll pull you into a grease-streaked dance right there on the oil-stained floor.)