#it’s helping me come to terms with some things

[rafayelxsylusho]

the jealous fic series is sooo good! can’t wait for the sylus one

I almost forgot about my man. Thanks for reminding me!

Hope you like it!!

How the LADS men fu€k jealousy out of you.

TW: SMUT

***There is a quote from a book that some of you have probably read before, I just really wanted to use it in one of sylus fics😊😊***

Sylus 🐦‍⬛

You had been looking forward to surprising Sylus at home, craving some much needed alone time with him after recent missions that kept you apart. However, once you got to his place you found the house quiet and empty. No sign of Sylus anywhere. A flicker of concern began to rise in your chest as you wandered the halls, calling out his name, but only the echo of your own voice greeted you.

You found Luke and Kieran in the study, engaged in their usual antics, lounging on the plush leather sofas, having a lively discussion that ended abruptly when they noticed you.

"Look Kieran, our favorite hunter came to visit," Luke drawled. "Here to see the boss man, y/n?"

Kieran sat up and offered you a genuine smile. "Boss isn't here at the moment," he explained "He's been called away to attend a rather important auction tonight."

"Auction?" you asked, frowning. "What auction?"

Luke leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The big one. The one everyone's talking about. The one boss has been prepping for all week."

You try to recall any mention of an important auction Sylus had spoken of, but as much as you rack your brain you come up empty. It's not like him to keep something like this a secret from you. A flicker of concern crosses your face as you wonder why he wouldn't have mentioned it to you directly.

"So, when will he be back?" you asked, trying to sound casual even as you felt a flutter of disappointment at his absence.

Kieran shrugged. "Hard to say. These things can go on for hours. Days even. Depends on how stubborn the other bidders are."

Luke snorted. "And how determined Sylus is to win."

You find yourself waiting for Sylus to return home from the mysterious auction. The hours tick by, and to pass the time, you decide to engage in some friendly competition with Luke and Kieran. The three of you spend the next couple of hours engrossed in a highspeed, adrenaline pumping videogame.

In between races, you raid the well stocked kitchen, returning with an array of tasty treats and Sylus' prized collection of gourmet chocolates.

As the night wears on you can't help but glance at the clock more frequently, wondering what's keeping Sylus. A regular auction should have ended by now, and while he is known for his meticulous attention to business dealings, this delay is starting to feel a bit longer than usual.

You decide to reach out to Sylus. You pull out your phone and dial his his private number, the one reserved for emergencies and urgent matters. After a few rings, his deep, smooth voice fills your ear.

"Y/n, what is it?" his tone unusually distracted. It's clear that he's in the midst of something important, his words clipped and hurried. The sound of muffled voices and distant commotion can be heard in the background, hinting at a crowded and chaotic environment.

"Hey, I'm at your place with Luke and Kieran," you explain, trying to keep your own voice casual despite the unease you feel. "I've been waiting for you to come home. Is everything alright?"

There's a pause, and you can almost hear the gears turning in Sylus' mind as he considers his response. "Yes, everything's fine," he says at last "This auction... it's taking longer than expected. Complications arose with a few of the other attendees." He sighs, and you can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, a telltale sign of his exasperation and stress. "I'm doing what I can to wrap things up, but it may be a while."

Your heart skips a beat as you hear a woman's voice, a stranger's melodic tone. The woman's words are muffled, but her term of endearment "Sylus darling" rings out crystal clear through the phone speaker.

You stiffen, gripping the phone tighter as a flurry of unwelcome thoughts and emotions wash over you. A cold, sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach, and you suddenly feel like an intruder in the intimate moment.

"I apologize, kitten, but I must go," Sylus says abruptly, his voice tight and strained. "I'll deal with this and be home as soon as I can. Wait for me" With that, he ends the call, leaving you staring at your phone in stunned disbelief.

"Shit, was that Ira?" Luke asks looking at Kieran.

Your head snaps up as Luke's question hangs in the air, a sense of confusion etched on your face. Kieran, noticing your expression, quickly elbows Luke to silence him, shooting him a warning glare.

"Shh, don't be an idiot," Kieran hisses under his breath, though not quiet enough that you don't hear him. "You shouldn't go around throwing around names like that without knowing for sure."

Kieran clears his throat, his expression turning somber as he sees the confusion and hurt in your eyes. "Ira is just an old business partner of Sylus," he explains carefully, choosing his words with deliberate precision. "They have a history together, but it's all about work. Nothing more.

Unable to shake the sense of unease in your gut, you eventually make your way upstairs to Sylus' bedroom, hoping to find some sense of comfort and familiarity in the space that has become so closely associated with the man you've come to love so deeply. You curl up on the plush, king-sized bed, inhaling the faint scent of Sylus' cologne that still lingers on the silken sheets. As exhaustion finally overtakes you, you drift off to a fitful sleep, your dreams fragmented images of Sylus and the unknown woman, their figures intertwined in ways that make your heart ache with a painful, jealous fervor.

When you awaken sometime later, the first light of dawn just beginning to peek through the curtains, you reach out instinctively for Sylus, only to find the space beside you cold and empty. You check your phone, hoping for a message or a call, but there is nothing.

You know you can't stay here, not like this, not with the way your mind is racing. The feelings inside you threaten to consume you, jealousy, anger, and a deep, abiding fear of losing the man you love.

As you zip up your backpack, the weight of your decision to leave Sylus' place feels both heavy and necessary. You take a deep breath and make your way back to your apartment.

Once inside the familiar confines of your own space the memory of Tara's camping invitation surfaces, and you realize that the solitude of the city may be more than you can bear in your current state of mind. Without hesitation, you pull out your phone and dial Tara's number, praying that she hasn't already made other plans or filled the available spots on her trip. She answers on the second ring, her voice bright and cheerful.

"Hey, Tara," you say, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "I know I already declined the camping trip, but... I've changed my mind. If the offer still stands, I'd love to join you and the team this weekend."

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear the surprise and delight in Tara's voice as she responds. "Of course, y/n! You're more than welcome to join us. I'm so glad you changed your mind," she says warmly, her words a balm to your battered soul. You thank Tara profusely, already feeling a weight lift from your shoulders at the prospect of escaping the city and the thoughts on your mind.

During the trip Tara and the rest of the team were wonderful hosts, ensuring that you were kept busy and distracted with hikes, campfire stories, and hearty meals. As the night of the trip wears on you lose yourself in the simple joys of the outdoors, the smell of pine needles and woodsmoke, the distant hooting of an owl, the warmth of your friends gathered around the flickering fire. Slowly but surely, the tightness in your chest begins to ease, and the painful thoughts of Sylus and the mysterious woman start to recede.

By the time the weekend draws to a close, you feel a sense of calm wash over you, the fresh air and company of your friends having done wonders to clear your head. The feelings of jealousy are still there, lingering in the back of your mind, but they no longer threaten to consume you as they once did.

As you step into your apartment in the late afternoon, the familiar scent of home envelops you, offering a sense of comfort and security that you desperately crave. The weight of the weekend's emotions and the long journey back to the city have left you exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Without hesitation, you make your way to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grime and weariness of the past couple of days. As the hot water cascades over your skin, you let out a sigh, allowing the steam to fill your lungs and cleanse your mind.

You linger in the shower for longer than necessary, the heat of the water soothing your aching muscles and helping to melt away the lingering tension that has taken up residence in your body. By the time you step out, your skin is pink and tingling, and a sense of renewed energy courses through your veins.

As you towel yourself dry, you remember the need to charge your phone, which had died during the camping trip due to the lack of a reliable power source. You pad out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of damp footprints on the hardwood floor as you make your way to your backpack. Fishing out your phone from the depths of the bag, you plug it in and watch as the screen flickers to life, the dim glow illuminating your face, the phone chimes and you take a deep breath before unlocking the screen. The anticipation of seeing Sylus' name among the list of notifications makes your heart race in your chest, a mix of hope and dread swirling within you.

As the messages load, you scan the list of senders, your eyes widening as you realize that there is not a single one from Sylus among them. You set your phone down on the kitchen counter, the glow of the screen illuminating the darkened room as you rummage through the cabinets for a glass. The house feels strangely quiet, a stark contrast to the lively chatter and laughter that filled the campsite just hours before. As you fill your glass with cool, refreshing water and take a long sip, you can't help but let your mind wander back to the memory of Sylus' curt goodbye and the sound of that woman's voice, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth that even the cold water can't wash away.

You set the glass down with a heavy sigh, your reflection staring back at you from the darkened window above the sink. In the dim light, you can see the weariness etched into the lines of your face, the shadows beneath your eyes a testament to the restless nights, and just as you're about to turn away from the window, a sudden movement outside catches your eye. You lean closer, peering out into the darkness, and your heart leaps into your throat as you see a tall, familiar figure standing beneath the dim glow of the streetlamp.

It's Sylus.

He stands motionless, his dark silhouette unmistakable even at this distance. He seems to be looking directly at your window, though you're not sure if he can actually see you through the darkness and the reflection on the glass. You take a tentative step back from the window, lots of questions race through your mind. What is Sylus doing here? How long has he been waiting? You freeze at the sound of a knock, your heart leaping into your throat as a wave of panic and adrenaline surges through your body. The knock comes again, more insistent this time, the sound of Sylus' fist against the wood unmistakable.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart as you make your way towards the door. You pause for a moment, your hand on the doorknob, and take one last steadying breath before turning the knob and pulling the door open.

"Sylus," you say, your voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. "What are you doing here?"

Even in the dim light of the hallway, you can see the intensity of his gaze, the crimson eyes that seem to pierce right through you, seeing straight into your very soul. He's dressed in a dark shirt and pants, his hair slightly disheveled, as if he's been running his hands through it in agitation.

"Hello kitten" Sylus murmurs, "how was your trip?"

"It was fine," you say shortly. "How did you know I went on a trip?"

Your mind races as you wonder how Sylus could possibly know about your last-minute decision to join Tara and the others for the weekend. You didn't mention it to anyone. So how did he find out?

Sylus leans against the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling the space. He looks tired, you notice, the lines around his eyes a little deeper than usual. But there's a intensity to his gaze, a fierce focus that makes your heart skip a beat.

"I have my ways," he says, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips "The real question is, why did you leave without telling me?" His voice is low and smooth, but there's an undercurrent of frustration beneath the calm exterior. 

"Come in," you say softly, stepping back to allow him entry. As Sylus steps into your apartment, you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine, his broad shoulders brushing against the doorframe as he moves past you.

Sylus turns to face you, his crimson eyes searching yours in the dim light cast by the single lamp you left on before your trip. He looks different in the low light, softer somehow, the harsh angles of his face gentled by the shadows. But there's still a intensity to his gaze, a fierce determination that makes your heart race in your chest.

You stand there, clutching the towel tightly around your body. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of the emotions that have been building for days.

"Well? Are you going to invite me to sit down, or are we going to stand here all night?" There's a undercurrent of impatience in his voice, a frustration that belies the casual tone.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry, and gesture towards the couch. "Of course, please, make yourself comfortable," you say, the words sound too formal to your own ears.

You turn to head to your bedroom, suddenly feeling the chill of the air on your damp skin beneath the thin towel "I'm going to change," you say over your shoulder, not looking back at him as you make your way to your bedroom.

You gasp as you feel Sylus' strong hand grab the back of your neck, his fingers curling around the damp skin and pulling you gently but firmly towards him. The sudden contact sends a jolt of electricity through your body, your heart stuttering in your chest as you find your back pressed against the firm wall of his chest.

"Sylus," you breathe out "what are you doing?"

His other hand comes to rest on your hip, his long fingers splaying across the curve of your waist, holding you firmly in place. You can feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of the towel, the warmth seeping into your flesh and making your pulse race.

Sylus leans down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ear as he speaks, his voice a low murmur. "I couldn't let you walk away without getting an answer first," he says, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me, kitten, why did you leave without telling me? There's a undercurrent of emotion in his voice, a frustration that he can't quite hide. His grip on your neck tightens slightly, not enough to cause pain, but enough to make it clear that he has no intention of letting you go until he gets the answers he wants. You can feel the tension radiating off him, the coiled energy of a man on the brink of losing control. It both frightens and exhilarates you, the power he holds in his hands, the way he can make you feel with a single touch.

"Sylus, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you try to pull away from him. "Not like this. I can't think straight when you touch me like this."

Sylus chuckles darkly, a low, rumbling sound that you can feel vibrating through his chest pressed against your back. His fingers tighten briefly on your hip before releasing you, only to trail slowly up the curve of your side, his touch feather light and teasing. "Like what, kitten?" he murmurs in your ear. "I haven't even touched you yet, not the way I want to. Not the way you need me to."

His hand reaches the side of your breast, his fingers grazing the swell of it through the damp towel. You can feel your nipple tightening in response, betraying your body's desire for his touch.

"Tell me why you left, y/n," Sylus demands, his voice hardening with impatience. "And don't lie to me."

You take a shaky breath, Sylus' proximity and touch making it hard to focus on anything else. "I...I needed some time to myself," you admit "To clear my head and think things through."

Sylus' hand stills on your breast, his fingers curling possessively around the soft mound. "Think things through about what?" he asks, a hint of something dark and dangerous lurking beneath the smooth surface of his voice.

You swallow hard, knowing you can't avoid the conversation any longer. "About us," you confess, the words falling from your lips "About what this...thing is between us. I didn't know how to handle it, so I left."

His lips brush against your shoulder, the ghost of a kiss that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. You can feel the heat of his breath, the dampness of his tongue as he traces the curve of your collarbone. "Tell me, kitten," he breathes against your skin, "is this what you needed to escape from? Me, touching you like this? Wanting you like this?"

His hand slides down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours. He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"Because if it is, I can make it so much worse. Or so much better," Sylus promises darkly "All you have to do is say the word, sweetie."

"Who is she, sy?" You whisper, words barely audible but you know he heard you. Sylus' teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck, his lips curling into a smirk against your flesh. He knows exactly what you're asking, but he's in no hurry to answer, not when he has you like this bare, breathless, and at his mercy.

His tongue flicks out, tasting the salt of your skin, the dampness of the water that clings to you. "You know, for someone who needed to clear their head, you seem awfully focused on her." Sylus' hand slides down to your waist, his fingers splaying possessively over your stomach. The evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your backside as he holds you close.

"Ira is someone I knew from my past. We were discussing a mutual investment opportunity. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about."

"Is that so?" you ask, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Sylus chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. He nips at your neck again, a little harder this time, sending a jolt of sensation straight down your spine.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, kitten," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. "But I must admit, it's...intriguing. Seeing this side of you, the side that wants to claw and scratch and mark what's hers."

Sylus spins you around to face him, his hands gripping your hips tightly. With a sharp tug, he yanks the towel down, baring your breasts to the cool air of the apartment. Your nipples pebble instantly, peaks tightening under the sudden exposure and the intensity of Sylus' gaze. His hands slide up your ribcage, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts, teasing the sensitive skin. You can feel the calluses on his fingers, the evidence of his power and strength, the way he could take you and claim you and make you his. His hands still on your breasts, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he holds you in place. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, his crimson eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath away. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, filled with raw emotion.

"What makes you think I could ever look at another woman the way I look at you?" Sylus asks "Do you have any idea what it's like, y/n, to be consumed by someone, to have them under your skin, in your blood, in every fucking beat of your heart?"

He leans in closer, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with your own. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the power and the hunger that he keeps leashed, barely contained. Sylus' eyes flash with a mix of anger and pain, his grip on your breasts tightening almost uncomfortably. His voice drops to a low, fervent whisper "I've waited lifetimes for you, kitten, dreaming of the day I could hold you again, touch you again, make you mine again."

His thumb brushes over your nipple roughly, sending a jolt of sensation through you. "And this is what I get in return? You, running from me, doubting me?" Sylus' voice rises, the anger and the hurt bleeding through every word. His eyes darken with a predatory gleam, a smirk spreading across his face as he sees the fear and excitement in your eyes. His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, his voice a low, sinful purr. "Go ahead, kitten. Run. See how far you get before I catch you." Sylus' hand slides down to your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly. "Run, If I catch you, I fuck you"

The dark promise in his voice sends a thrill of fear and anticipation down your spine. Acting on instinct, you wrench yourself out of his grasp and turn to run, your bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor as you race up the stairs to your bedroom. You can hear Sylus' footsteps behind you, his long strides eating up the distance between you. Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you reach the top of the stairs. You don't look back, you don't dare to see if he's close.

Just as you think you're about to reach the safety of your bedroom, you feel Sylus' Evol envelop you. An unseen force lifts you off your feet, strong and unyielding, pulling you back towards him. You let out a startled yelp, your hands grasping at the empty air as you're lifted higher, your bare breasts bouncing slightly with the movement.

"Sylus!" you cry out, a mix of fear and excitement lacing your voice. You're suspended in mid-air, towel no longer wrapped over the lower half of your body, your legs kicking futilely as you try to find purchase on the carpeted stairs.

"Did I say you could run that far, kitten?" Sylus' voice comes from behind you, dark and amused. You feel his presence looming over you, the heat of his body, the power radiating off him in waves. "I told you, I'd catch you. And now, I'm going to claim my prize."

Sylus' hands grip your bare thighs, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh as he hoists you over his shoulder. He carries you effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing at all, his steps never faltering as he walks towards your bedroom. You find yourself staring at his back, the broad expanse of his shoulders, the way his shirt stretches taut over the muscles beneath.

When he reaches your room, he kicks the door open, the wood slamming against the wall with a bang. He carries you inside and with a few more strides, he reaches the bed and tosses you onto it, your naked body bouncing on the mattress. You land on your back, your breasts heaving as you catch your breath. Sylus looms over you, his crimson eyes glinting in the low light, a smile playing on his lips. He takes in the sight of you, sprawled out and bare before him.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your heart pounding as you watch Sylus remove his clothing. He starts with his tie, yanking it off and tossing it carelessly to the side. His fingers move to his shirt buttons next, undoing them one by one with deliberate slowness, as if he's savoring the anticipation of revealing what lies beneath. As he shrugs off his shirt, your breath catches in your throat. The dim light from the hallway casts shadows across the planes of his chest, highlighting the defined muscles, the sculpted abs, the V that disappears into his pants. You remember how his skin feels beneath your fingertips, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and your core clenches with sudden, desperate need. His hands move to his belt next, undoing the buckle with a sharp tug. The leather slips from his pants, falling to the floor with a soft thud. He undoes his fly slowly, inch by inch, until finally, he's shoving his pants and boxers down his long legs. He kicks them off to the side.

Sylus stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "You've seen me like this before," he says softly, his voice rough with desire. "But I don't think you've ever really seen me. Not like I want you to see me." He crawls over you, his large frame covering your smaller one as he settles his hips between your thighs, the hard length of him pressing against your core. His hands come up to frame your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones, tilting your chin up to force you to meet his intense gaze.

"You should know very well that I adore you," Sylus murmurs, his voice low with emotion. "There is no love purer than mine" His crimson eyes search yours, the intensity of his feeling burning into your very soul. "But right now," he continues, his voice dropping an octave, turning dark and dangerous. "Right now, I'm going to fuck you like I hate you." His grip on your face tightens, his fingers digging into your skin.

Before you can process it he's thrusting forward, burying himself deep inside your tight, wet heat. A scream tears from his throat as he hilts himself fully, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. "FUCK!" Sylus roars, his voice echoing off the walls of your bedroom. At the same time, a scream of pleasure and surprise rips from your own throat, your back arching off the bed, "SYLUS!" you cry out, your voice breaking on a moan as he stretches you, fills you, completes you in a way that feels so right and so perfect.

For a moment, he stays still, buried deep inside you, his heart pounding against your chest, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. Then he starts to move, withdrawing until just the tip of his cock remains inside you, only to slam back in with a powerful thrust. "Oh god, Sylus!" you cry out, your voice hitching and breaking as he drives into you again and again. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red welts in their wake as you cling to him, your body rocking with the force of his thrusts.

Sylus feels your legs wrap tightly around his waist, your ankles locking at the small of his back. With an approving growl, he sits back on his knees, bringing you up with him. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he changes the angle of his thrusts, now driving up into you from below. "Fuck, just like that," Sylus grunts, his voice filled with lust. "Hold onto me, kitten. Wrap those pretty legs around me tighter." His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he pulls you down onto his cock, meeting his upward thrusts with a force that steals your breath away

You can feel every thick, hard inch of him as he fills and stretches you, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his length. The new position allows him to go even deeper, his cock kissing your cervix with every powerful thrust. You throw your head back, a silent scream of ecstasy on your lips as the pleasure builds and builds inside you. Sylus knows your body intimately, understands what buttons to push, what touches will send you flying. And right now, he's determined to draw this out, to make this last as long as possible. He wants to feel you come undone around him again and again, wants to hear you scream his name until your voice is hoarse and raw. So he restrains himself, ignoring the desperate pleas of your body as your hips buck and writhe against his, seeking more friction, more stimulation.

He keeps his hands on your hips, holding you, preventing you from chasing your pleasure. His hands avoid your throbbing clit, his lips and teeth avoid your aching nipples, even as they map your neck, your collarbone, the sensitive skin behind your ears.

"Please, Sylus," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, your nails scraping his scalp. "Please, I need..." You can't even finish the sentence, too lost in sensation, too desperate for release.

"I know," Sylus murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "I know exactly what you need, kitten. But I'm not going to give it to you. Not yet." He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, a twist of his hips that has you seeing stars. "You're going to come on my cock when I say you can come on my cock," Sylus commands, his voice low and dangerous. "And not a moment before."

Sylus uses all his strength to drag your hips down his length with brutal force. Your body is no longer your own as he manhandles you, using you for his pleasure. Each powerful thrust drives the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping, your tits bouncing wildly with every slam of his hips against yours.

"Fuck, your cunt feels incredible," Sylus growls, his eyes wild and fevered as he watches your body jolt and quake with his relentless pounding. "So fucking tight and wet and perfect. Made to take my cock". Your mind starts to go hazy, your thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm as he fucks you.

"Sylus!" you scream, your voice raw and broken as he rails into you. "Sylus, please, I can't...I can't..." But your protests only seem to spur him on, his thrusts growing harder, faster, more demanding.

Sylus leans in, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh at the top of your breast, marking you. He bites down hard enough to make you cry out, the mix of pain and pleasure short circuiting your brain for a moment. As he releases your skin, he laves the reddened mark with his tongue, soothing the sting.

"Do you want some help, kitten?" Sylus murmurs, his voice a low against your skin. He rolls his hips, grinding his pelvis against your aching clit, giving you a momentary respite from the relentless pounding. He waits for your response, his eyes glinting with a dark, knowing amusement. "Yes? No? Maybe so?" His tone is playful, taunting, as if he knows exactly what your answer will be. He reaches in between your bodies, his fingers find and circle your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, pushing you to the very edge of ecstasy. Your hips buck wildly against his hand, seeking more, craving more.

"Yes, Sylus," you manage to gasp out, your voice ragged and breathless." Please..please..please.." Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin.

 "That's my good girl," he purrs, rewarding your submission with a hard thrust. "Now, come for me, kitten. Come all over my cock. Let go, y/n . Give yourself to me completely."

With that command, Sylus leans down and drags the flat of his tongue over your nipple, the wet heat sending a shock of pleasure through your body. At the same time, his fingers find your clit, pinching the sensitive nub between them, rolling it, tugging on it, giving you the direct stimulation you've been aching for. The dual sensation is too much for you to withstand. Your body seizes up, back arching in a semicircle, as a intense orgasm crashes over you. "SYLUS!" you scream, your voice echoing off the walls, as wave after wave of ecstasy radiates out from your core, consuming you entirely. Sylus buries himself deep inside you once again, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he also finds his release. "Fuck, y/n , fuuuuuck!" his hot seed erupting from his cock and painting your insides. You can feel every twitch, every spurt of his thick come as he fills you up. Sylus' hips jerk and stutter, grinding against yours as he rides out the waves of his intense climax, pushing his seed deeper with every movement.

He collapses on top of you, his muscular frame blanketing your smaller one, pinning you to the mattress. He's still buried deep inside your fluttering, over sensitive heat, his softening cock plugging you up, trapping his seed inside you. His breath comes in harsh, ragged gasps as he rests his forehead against yours, his crimson eyes glazed and unfocused as he comes down from his intense high. Sylus takes a moment to marvel at the utterly debauched picture you make, hair mussed, skin flushed and slick with sweat, your bodies still joined intimately.

"I can adapt to any location and call it home, as long as I'm willing" Sylus murmurs, his voice low and intimate "but now I have a condition" His eyes bore into yours, the crimson depths swirling with unreadable emotions. "If you are not there then I'm not interested. "This," he gestures vaguely at the bedroom, but you know he means more than just the physical space, "means nothing without you in it."

Sylus' hand slides down to rest over your racing heart, feeling it beat against his palm. "You are my home, kitten. My haven. The one constant I crave." His voice drops to a fervent whisper, heavy with unspoken emotion. "So that condition is you must be there. Always. Or I will not settle for anything less."

[mr-tony-stark]

Tony’s eyes flicked over Clint as he told the story, trying to look for tells to see if he was lying at all.  It seemed like he was telling the truth, but Tony had been burned by people in the past that he’d thought cared about him.  Almost fatally.

“It’s a problem because dating fans is  -” he let out a breath.  “Look.  For starters, if I date someone who’s a fan, then I can’t trust that they’ll do things based on what they actually want over what they think they need to to keep me in their life.  It’s the same as how teacher’s can’t date a student.  There’s a power dynamic that’s really skewed in the wrong way.  And I already have to worry about that just because of the amount of money I have.  Clint - I don’t think you realize how much power fame and money comes with.  I’ve slept with people by pointing at them and beckoning them over.  We didn’t even need to speak.  The money and fame was enough for all their common sense to fly out the window.  That’s bad enough if it’s a one time thing.  In those cases, as long as we’re keeping it fairly vanilla the hope is they have a good time and end up with a story they can tell for a while.  But long term?  It’s just a really fucked up dynamic”

He shook his head.  “And on my side, how can I trust that person?  How can I know that they even care about me as a person and not the celebrity they built up in their head?  I hear from Margot that you used to talk about me - and yes, you’re right, I’m famous, but so is Tom Cruise and I never talk about him - and I can’t help but think you’re only here because young you fantasized about it and went for it as soon as you got a chance.  I mean you’ve put up with me doing some pretty shitty things, Clint.”

Clint blinked in surprise at his words a blush forming on his cheeks. “First of all, why would it be weird? Everyone knew who you were, but that’s not the point,” he spoke waving his hand. “Okay so—-“ he rubbed the back of his neck and sighs. “First time I heard of you was through Margot. I was… around 20 at the time? Ish?” He spoke and nodded a bit.

“Not sure, anyways… I had always been unsure of my sexuality and then Margot was watching you on tv and well—“ he sighs obviously flustered. “I thought you were hot,” he spoke and nodded. “And I let a comment slip about how I definitley knew I was bisexual, because you were hot to me,” he spoke and waved his hand.

“I never like searched for you or anything, but from there on Margot teased me about thinking her like, idol, was hot. I never brought it up. But when she talked about you I would always mention, well he’s hot there’s that,” he explained. “So yes, I was talking about you but I wasn’t a fan,” he spoke and nodded a bit.

“So it’s just— an embarrassing story really of how I realised I was bisexual-“ he spoke waving his hand. However something hit him. “Wait— why is this a problem?” He asks.

[partiallysame]

OK OK OKK JUUSTT LISTEN TO ME ON THIS ONE PLEAASEEEE. what about price's lil missus (or mister, we're gender inclusive here!) getting captured by makarov and being held for ransom. NEED to see this in your writing

No you’re so right Price’s lil missus can also be his lil mister. His lil love his lil dove. Not sure if I’ve used pronouns other than the term missus but we are inclusive here (also it’s on my list to write more male reader too)

Ok ok ok I think when the boys first moved in Simon was appalled at the lack of security. He immediately put in alarms on the doors and a tracker on your car (with your concern although he would’ve even if you said no. Safety is not an option). You had turned the beep on the front door off bc that’s annoying to hear everytime you open it buttttt if the door was ever left open for too long Simon would get an alert in his phone. Usually just you leaving it open when doing something in the yard or grabbing something from your car buttt this time he got the notification and checked the cameras to see you being carried kicking and screaming into a suv. Suddenly they’re in a military humvee tracking the car on traffic cameras. Price cursing himself bc he kept you a secret for a reason. Covert ops meant a covert personal life was the safest option.

While you were Price’s sweet dove you were anything but docile he simply wouldn’t leave you alone for work without knowing you could protect yourself. Makarov was not expecting the sweet lil thing his men grabbed to somehow get a knife into two of his men. But you know, gun pressed to your head helps everyone calm down. So you found yourself tied up in a dark room. The idiot Russian barely had a moment to take the ransom photo before he heard the gunshots outside. The door was exploded open (not their first idea but the fastest). On the way to you they had to discuss how to handle the situation bc they always did their best to make sure civilians weren’t harmed in this situation but now it’s you. It’s the sweet love of their lives. They wanted to rescue you without adding more trauma than already caused. Before the dust settles from the door you saw Johnny full tac gear. A uniform you’ve only ever seen in photos. Emerging behind him was Kyle and a man in a skeleton mask. Johnny found your gaze, his hand motioned over his own eyes, signaling you to close yours. You did and the room got so unbelievably loud. Eyes shut tight, you felt strong arms wrap around you, lifting and carrying you from the room and the noise. When the ringing in your ears stopped enough you could hear your husband’s voice trying to coax you to open your eyes. His hands working to untie you, too scared to bring a knife near you to just cut the restraints off. When you finally opened your eyes, he watched your body untense. Body falling into his only to feel more arms wrap around you from the back. Sobs falling from you and the men around you. Not so big tough when it comes to your life. You looked down and could see the skeleton mask resting on the floor. “Spooky mask Simon.” Your lil quip brought a small smile to their faces. You were ok. You were safe and still yourself. As they guided you to the humvee you tried to turn to look at where you were being held hostage “no nope nope eyes forward sweetheart” just because you were forced to experience some of their job didn’t mean they wanted you to see all of it. They had been chasing makarov for so long but his mistake of coming after Prices lil wife caused him a bullet (or 4) to the head

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One and Only

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You meet your biggest fan.

Based on response: She’s famous & he’s a stalker fan? 1940s au?

Characters: Bucky Barnes

This is #1 of the Valentines Roulette stories

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I’m sending the script this afternoon, honey,” Gerald promises through the speaker. You hold the receive to your ear and suppress a sigh. It’s a blessing that he can’t see your expression. ‘Honey.’  

“Sure thing, Ger,” you reply as you try to peer through the foggy glass pane. What a miserable February. 

“Screen tests start Monday,” he intones, as if you’ve not done this before. What number is this? You signed a contract for ten pictures, this is number seven of the lot. You cannot wait to shop around for a new studio. 

“Yes, Ger,” you answer dully. “See ya then.” 

“Three o’clock. There about,” he girds. 

“I’ll be around. Monday, then, Ger.” 

“Monday, honey.” 

You hang up. You arch your brow as your lips move with the retort you’re under terms and conditions not to say. ‘If you want honey, Gerald, go find a hive.’ You sigh to your content and adjust your rob beneath the satin belt cinched around your waist. 

There’s a knock at the door. You look at the clock in its ivory frame. It must be the mailman. You answer and accept his bundle. Some from those who watch your pictures and a letter from your sister. You shuffle through them and leave them scattered over the kitchen table. 

You pace. You’d hoped to have that script early. You might not be very happy with the films they’ve put you on but learning lines at least keeps your mind busy.  

As you sweep through the entryway, your satin robe catches the air and sends a breeze around the space. There’s a scuff along the hardwood that snags on the tassled corner of the rug. You must’ve dropped it when you took the handful from the mailman. 

You bend to pluck up the scrap of paper, folded in a tight square. When you untuck the corner, it forms a sort of accordion. You carefully unfold it, careful not to tear it. You reveal its sparse contents. 

The crosshatch of an inky nib has formed an image. One you vaguely recognise as yourself. The war feels like ages ago though it only just ended. It’s back to business as usual. No more tours through Europe, no more riding in cargo bays with the prettied up dances. Everything is all so dull these days. 

In the hastily scratched portrait, your hair is painfully twisted into victory rolls and the military cap pinned at just the right angle. You remember the soldiers, the worn gray palour and dark circles, the tatters in their uniforms as the complained for drawing lines up their legs to mimic the nylon these men needed to jump out of planes. 

You examine the torn edge and a few blots of ink and some other dark hue. There’s a scrawl in the corner. Loopy writing; ‘Happy Valentines. Only you on my mind. JBB’. Those messages are not unexpected. You are thankful for your admirers if not at time, perturbed by their assumptions of familiarity. Yet, you’ve chose the studio lights and camera lenses. It comes with the territory. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It’s three o’clock. Bucky’s watch is set, tightly strapped to his right wrist. Out of habit, he looks to the left and finds nothing. His shoulder is itchy where his muscles should tug but there’s nothing there. Just a pinned sleeve and frustration. 

He clears his throat and keeps the thick bound folder under his arm. The boy gave him no trouble, asked no questions. I’m the porter, kid, I’ll see it to her. No need to go bothering the lady. 

He marches down the winding stone walk. His car is near the sprawl of pine. He misses his motorcycle but he can’t figure how to steer it with one hand. Even the steering wheel gives him a bit of trouble. 

He presses his arm tighter to the script as he approaches the stoop. There’s a round stone platform before the door that forms steps up to the entrance. Moulds of ancient Greek statues stand in small alcoves beneath the lights on either side of the door frame.  

He stops before the door and bends his head as he tries to fix his hair. He shaved for this. It’s been a while. He spent long with the scissors, clipping through the shanks than he did with the razor. That’s another thing that’s harder. He struggled to get just the right angle around the left side of his jaw. There’s a nick there. 

He straightens up and stares at the arched door. He needs to knock. He has to step close and batters his knuckles on the wood. He backs up and looks down. He hasn’t worn a suit since he came home. They made him do it as they shouted ‘victory’ in the streets. 

He waits. No answer. He looks around. She has a bell. He shifts around then uses his nose to press it. Damn arm. 

He fixes his posture and smiles, then quickly wipes it away. You don’t want to look strange. No, not like some of the men they took off the lines. They got that glassy look. Some of them couldn’t do anything but laugh or cry. 

Her shadow darkens under the door before she opens it. She’s surprised by him. She bats her long lashes. They are naked, like the rest of her face. He’s just as stunned to see her in her natural form. No cosmetics, all her. She’s even more gorgeous. 

“Oh, I was expecting Stuart,” she greets him. “Pardon,” she tries to fix her hair. She wears a satin robe and slippers with feathers. “You have it?” 

She gestures to the script. He looks down at it and slides it down to his hands. He examines the cover. 

“Uh, yes, ma’am, miss,” he forgets everything he meant to say. All those lines he rehearsed in the dark theatre. The script he wrote when he lay restless in his bed. 

“Thank you, sir,” she reaches for it. He hesitates to hand it over. 

“I saw you. In the Hague,” he says as she latches onto the spine. He doesn’t let go. 

She looks at him. She has a serene look on her face, even as her eyes wander down to his pinned sleeve. She almost seems to brighten. 

“With the company?” She asks. “You saw me on stage?” 

“You’re real funny, miss,” he bounces on his heels. “Charming.” 

“Well, it’s the least I could do for your men. You gave so much,” she keeps a hold of the script. 

He looks at his left shoulder then at her. 

“Some things were taken,” he grumbles. 

She blanches, “pardon me, sir, I didn’t mean--” 

“I just wanted to say,” he overrides her apology. She doesn’t need to be sorry. “When I was in the medic’s tent, all those weeks, it was you. You got me through. I saw ya in the magazines. They were old, you know? Don’t get them hot off the press in the field.” 

“Sure,” she utters, he feels the tension in the folder as she tries to wiggle it away. “What’s your name, sir?” 

“James,” he answers. “James Buchanan Barnes.” 

She smiles, “that’s a lovely name. I do appreciate you coming to give me this. And for everything else.” 

He lets go of the folder. He expected more. She might invite him in for a drink. He did lose a fucking arm so the ladies could keep their precious slippers and robes. And he came all the way down her to give her that lump of papers. 

“You have a good day, sir,” she slowly inches the door forward. 

Where are her goddamn manners? 

He slaps his hand against the door and she squeaks in fright. He keeps her from closing it in his face. He cleaned himself up nice for her, he sent her a letter. He’s sent her at least a hundred. He signed them all JBB. She knows him. 

So why is she trying to shut him out? 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You stumble back as the man shoves the door out of your grasp. You gasp and the grip the script with both hands, like a shield. He steps inside calmly. 

“James,” you say his name, “what are you doing?” 

“The least you can do is ask me in, doll,” he snarls. The sudden shift in his demeanour fills you with dread. 

“No, James, I did not. You need to leave--” 

He swings the door shut and marches toward you. You raise the script and bring it forward, aiming it at him in a desperate attempt to fend him off. He knocks it away easily. He's strong. Still a soldier even in street clothes. 

“James,” you hold your palms up helplessly, “please, forgive me if I’ve--” 

“Shhhh,” he reaches between your hands and grabs you by the jaw. “I just... I want to... did you get my letters?” 

“Letters?” You gulp, writhing in his hold as you gently touch his forearm. “Well, James, I get many letters--” 

“I write to you every day,” he hisses. “It’s me. JBB.” 

“James,” you murmur. 

“Stop saying my name,” he sneers. 

You shut your mouth, your lip poking out as it trembles. You stare at him, petting his sleeve, hoping you can calm him. The war changed a lot of men. It stole a lot of them too. 

“I just... I love you, doll. You got me through. You kept me breathing,” he growls as he walks her backward. “I’m not gonna hurt ya.” 

You whimper, “why don’t you let me go and I’ll pour you a drink?” 

He stops and his brows pinch together. He looks to his left, where your liquor cabinet stands in the dining room. Where your phone is... 

“No,” his eyes flick back to you. “No, I don’t drink.” 

He pushes you until your heels meet the bottom stair. Your right slipper falls off and he tips you over the incline. You fall beneath him as he follows you down. You push on his chest and wriggle. 

He straddles you beneath him as he looks you up and down. His knees are on the step by your hips, his heels two down. You brace the sharp edge and whine. 

“James...” 

He hushes you as his thumb rubs beneath your cheekbone. He stares at your body, his chest rising and falling heavily. You push yourself down into the stairs. 

“Open your robe,” he demands. 

Your lip quivers violently as you bat back tears. You do as he says. You unknot the belt and slowly draw it open. You tug the satin apart and reveal your silky nightgown. The fabric cling to you like water. 

He shudders as his jaw squares. He bites his lip and shifts over you. He leans in slowly and your eyes meet as he gets closer. They are blue and deep like the ocean. You shiver as his nose touches yours. 

He exhales and brushes his lips against yours. 

“Show me the bedroom,” he growls.  

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He lets her up cautiously. She steadies her feet and turns up the staircase. She limps up, click, clap, click, clap. He bends to pick up her slipper and follows. 

As she reaches the top, he stops her with her name. She pauses. He gets down and she doesn’t react until he shows her slipper. She puts her foot through. He stands and points her onward. 

He couldn’t climb to see through the bedroom window. He only ever saw the first floor. She hugs herself as her robe flutters around her figure. She opens the door at the end of the hall. She steps back to let him through and he tuts. 

He makes her go in first. She enters and sweeps around, far from him. He elbows the door shut. She cowers by the wall as he strides around.  

There’s a phone beside the bed. He grabs it and yanks it free of the cord. Her slippers suddenly click in a flurry. He drops the phone and catches her at the door. He crushes her against it so it snaps back into the frame. 

“Doll, don’t be doin’ all that,” he warns as he pinches her neck and urges her away from the door. She whimpers and he turns her to face the bed, “robe off.” 

He lets her go. She pulls away and drags his hands down her neck. She shyly pushes the robe from her shoulders and peels it off her body. The silk nightgown swathes her perfectly. Her shape is so full and soft. 

She drapes the robe over the bedpost and shies away. He clucks and snaps his fingers. 

“Doll,” he looks down at himself. He has the whole getup. Jacket, vest, tie, shirt. All for her. “Need your help.” 

She faces him. Her eyes glimmer like gems. She watches his hand smooth down his jacket and he unbuttons it. 

She nears him. She smells like vanilla. She brings her hands up. They shake. She must be excited. How could she not be? Finally, they’re together. 

He grabs his lapels and guides the jacket back. She’s tender with the folded sleeve and tickles his hemmed shirt beneath. She carries the jacket to the seat by her vanity and returns to him. He can see her pulse in her throat, it’s going just as fast as his. 

She unbuttons his vest and slips it off him. Her touch is soothing. Then she undoes his tie, her fingers brushing his throat. She unveils him, piece by piece, as his stomach clenches and unclenches. 

She stalls as she gets to his trousers. Her fingers twiddle just before the button. 

“It’s your first time,” he drawls. “Dont’ gotta be shy, doll.” 

She looks at him and swallows. She nods stiffly then puts her eyes down. The unplucks the front of his pants. He can make it nice for her. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

First time... 

Nope. You won’t say you haven’t made mistakes. Still, you won’t chance angering this man. Not more than you already have. You can keep up the act if it pays off. Not in money this time, no, your life. 

You stand back as he’s naked before you. Your wipe your damp palms on your nightie. He hangs his head. You can’t help but stare at his scars. The tortured flesh around his shoulder that extends onto his chest. Looks like a burn. 

His eyes startle you. You meet them. He steps closer. 

“Your turn,” he growls. 

You look down and reach for the thin lace straps of the night gown. You slide them down and shimmy the silken sheath down your figure. Your chest peeks over and he inhales audibly. As you push the fabric past your hips, he groans. 

Your eyes wander up for an instant. He's hard, bobbing shamelessly as he nears. All at once, he herding you back against the bed. You fall over the foot and bounce on the mattress. 

He crushes you. He kisses your lips then your cheek, smearing saliva across your face with his frantic hunger. You close your eyes and go rigid as you let him do what he pleases. 

His voice escapes him like silt. He nuzzles and nips along your throat. He shifts onto his side and feels up and down your torso. He fondles your tits and his mouth trails his touch. He seals his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around and around. 

He hooks his leg around yours. He pulls your thighs apart and his hand traces down your stomach and pelvis. He slips his middle finger between your lips and strums at your clit. You tense and twitch as your nerves stir. 

Your breath hitches as he rubs firmly. You turn your head and bite your knuckle as a moan escapes you. You arch your back as the sparks turn to a flame. You shake through your orgasm as he drags you through it. 

He pushes another finger between your folds. He rubs up and down, smearing your juices around as he hum. He lifts his head and nuzzles your cheek. 

“Kiss me, doll.” 

You pull your hand away and press your lips to his. His tongue delves into your mouth as his fingers slide into your cunt. He growls and smothers you as he rocks your pelvis. The heel of his hand rests against your clit and your toes curl as you writhe. You bend your legs as he lights another fire in you. 

He tilts his hips, rubbing his cock on your leg as he humps you in time with his fingers. Your walls squeeze and tremour and your climax again. You whine into his mouth and he drinks it in. 

He drags his fingers free and wipes your pleasure on your thighs. He parts from your mouth and heaves himself onto his knees. He kneels between your legs and traces the curves of your body with his hand. 

“Doll, please, you put me in,” he orders. “Be careful, don’t wanna hurt you.” 

You reach down without hesitation. You want this over with. You just hope he leaves after. 

You grab his cock and angle it down against your cunt. You flinch as his tip brushes your clit and you push him further back. You line him up with your entrance and he shakes. He grunts as he tenses and inches into you. 

He grits his teeth and exhales through his nose as he impales you. You constrict around him. He’s big enough to make your walls ache. He leans over you, planting his hand next to your head, and thrusts until he’s buried to his limit. 

You slap your palm against his chest and puff out through your locked jaw. You quake around him as he pulls back. His eyes fall to the crux of your bodies as he watches himself push into you again. You dig your nails into his skin. 

He snarls and bends his arm, holding himself on his elbow. He covers your mouth with his once more and rolls his hips. You whine and nearly gag around his tongue. He pumps again and again. You press against his sides as you squeeze him between your thighs. 

The bed shakes as his rhythm picks up. You push on his stomach and thigh, begging him silently to be nicer. He doesn’t heed your pleas. You give in to the ravaging of your body as he ruts wildly. You hook your hand around his bicep and clamp down to keep from biting his tongue. 

Just a bit more and it will end. Almost there. Almost free... right? 

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise — the journey home

summary: Joel drives you home from the airport after your vacation. You miss him as soon as he's gone. warnings: daddy kink (mentioned once), big age gap (23 & 49), orgasm control (reader needs Joel's permission), slight angst, phone sex in your parents' home (the most mortifying thing I can think of actually)

note: sorry this took me so long, I lowkey forgot about it tbh. It's a little angsty, but I swear that angst will be resolved!! Idk when, because I'm writing a different oneshot atm, but at some point I plan on writing more smut & a confrontation with reader's Dad. Enjoy these head canons in the meantime, and thank you for your love on this series <3333

Your Dad calls while you’re still at the airport & Joel tells him he got you home safely (your panties are still ruined from how badly you wanted Joel on the plane, his hand on your thigh the entire time)

He puts the luggage in the trunk of his Bronco, and before you’ve made it halfway home, he pulls over to a deserted parking lot by the side of the road & makes you ride him in the car

So good, baby, let me have it one last time. He comes inside of you like he did every time he fucked you during your trip, and when you grab your tissues to clean yourself, he asks you to leave it, baby, want you to remember me when you get home

So you do, because you always do what he tells you, and because you don’t want to let him go completely just yet. The rest of the way both of you are very quiet

Joel pulls up to your Dad’s house (you’re staying with him to help him with his leg), and before you can get out, he pulls you into a hug, and kisses the side of your head

Hope ya had a good time. You want to cry but you also don’t want to seem clingy, so you nod. Joel doesn’t let you go for a few minutes

When you pull away to say goodbye, he looks like your Dad’s Joel again, wearing his boots instead of flip flops, a pair of jeans instead of your beloved trunks, and his linen shirt is nowhere to be seen

Take care, kid. Call me if you need anything, alright? And don’t study too hard.

Before you can answer, the front door opens and your Dad greets you, leg still in a cast, and considerably less tan than you and Joel

When you get out to greet him, you feel Joel’s cum drip out of you and into your cotton panties. You glance at Joel, who seems to understand and raises one playful eyebrow — he’s still your Joel, no matter his clothes

Your Dad hugs you and the entire time you think he'll be able to smell Joel on you, his clothes you kept wearing, his shampoo you used when you were too lazy to get yours from your own hotel room, his sweat and spit and cum on you, but your Dad just walks over to Joel's window and thanks him

"Had a good time with my girl?"

Joel doesn't really meet his eye, and you think to yourself that my girl is a term only applicable if Joel says it, but he just agrees, says the food was good and that you studied a lot

And that's it, Joel drives away with one last glance at you in the sun, and then he's gone and a strange emptiness settles over you

You tell your Dad you need some time for yourself after a week of socializing, which he doesn't question, so you say good night, plop down on your bed and put on a movie. You don't want to shower, not when you can still feel Joel inside of you

It takes you around twenty minutes to pull out your phone, and when you do, you've already got a message from Joel

Miss you already, baby. At the risk of sounding desperate, call me if you need a break from studying.

The proper punctuation makes you smile and want to cry at the same time, Joel's age so obvious. You take a couple of seconds to answer and fight the urge to call him and ask him to just take you away to live at his place, your Dad be damned

miss you too. can still feel you inside of me. trying hard not to call you right now

Almost immediately, your phone lights up with Joel's name, and then he's there, his beautiful face taking up the majority of the screen, and although you try hard not to cry, you feel tears burning your eyes

You tell Joel you miss your vacation already, that you wish you could go back, that you don't want to sleep alone tonight. You wonder if he just wanted to have phone sex with you and instead got this jumbled up mess of feelings and tears

But there's just kindness and warmth in his eyes, and when he tells you he wishes you were there with him, watching a movie together instead of alone, relief floods your body. He talks to you in his soothing voice until you stop crying, tells you you can always come over

You're scared to ask him what he means, if he's offering a shoulder to cry on, or if he actually wants to keep seeing you, but when he sees the expression on your face, he asks you to come to his place tomorrow and talk there, instead of over the phone

You agree, already longing for his arms around your body, and when you ask him to make you feel good in a hushed voice, he is quiet for a couple of seconds

Want me to help you get off in your Dad's house? You're not even home in your apartment and you already need it this bad?

It's humiliating in a way that switches off your brain, Joel's words exactly what you need to get lost in him – he isn't pretending what the two of you are doing isn't completely reckless and fucked, instead, he embraces it, makes you get off on it

He makes you use your fingers instead of a vibrator, and they feel strikingly small after being stretched out on Joel's cock for a week. By now, he knows your sounds well enough to tell you to stop when you're close, and only after bringing you right to the edge three times with little more than his dirty words, and you beg him with tears in your eyes, Daddy please, he lets you come

That's it, baby, you have my permission.

When you're done, you wonder why he hasn't touched himself, anxiety bubbling up inside of you, but Joel tells you he wants to focus on you, that he'll take care of it when you've gone to bed.

You tell him again how much you miss him, that you don't want to sleep alone, or get off alone, or eat alone, or with anyone else. Joel smiles sadly, and sighs. Don't gotta get off alone, kid, just text me whenever you need me.

But it's all he can offer – his permission to come, but no dinners together, no nights spent basking in his warmth and scent. You take it, though, and promise to ask his permission every time. You know it turns Joel on, but there is also something more intimate about it. The only exclusivity either of you can offer each other at the moment

You both fall asleep while still on FaceTime, but in the morning, your phone is dead

taglist: @allydiasx@b1bbles@monamedeiros12@brittmb115@dansdonunts @mattevioletgirl @pedrospurplerain @fsiryspit @strangerthingslover69 @thanyatargaryen @chochoooooooooo @guelyury @iloveumorethanlove @neayinia @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @clancysinferno @bbyanarchist @pedrofan @cr3aturef3ar @malfoycassimalfoy @akah565

[oddandtired]

My heart goes out to you. Also, I can very much relate. My parents were in many ways great, I was loved and my hobbies were encouraged, and I think that gave me a baseline of self-respect that has helped me through some quite harrowing things later in life. But they are also Christian fundamentalists. That hateful rhetoric was always there, a constant background noise through my whole life. It took me over 35 years to finally come out as trans and be open about my queerness for them and as a result we are no longer on speaking terms.

It is indeed a tragedy to have so much love and openess in your household and at the same time you just know that all of that would be gone the moment you would be open about your identity.

But there also people worthy of your love and dedication. I have a new family, a chosen one, with queer friends and lovers and all that honesty and openess is finally there.

This isn’t really meant to be a comic trashing my dad.

I do truly appreciate his commitment to education.  I do truly have a soft spot for his style of humor, which certainly influenced the development of my own.  I appreciate how he had this VHS-C camera that he was always bringing out and would let me use, sparking my love for movies and starting me on a path that led to me going to film school.

All those good things about him were real.

But so was the colossal amount of damage he caused.

If you happen to be a parent and are reading this right now, I’m going to ask that you consider this suggestion from a childless thirty-six year old:

You need to consider how you communicate with your child, and how communication doesn’t just mean the words that you use.

You’re telling your kids something with the foods you eat, the activities you engage in, etc…

…you communicate to your children with the media you consume.

The rhetoric against the trans community wasn’t as much in the spotlight when I was growing up, but every time my dad turned on the radio, he’d have my sister and I listen to the likes of Rush Limbaugh, or Sean Hannity, Mark Levin, etc…  One of the topics that’d come up frequently was queer people. 

Issues about Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, gay marriage, gay boy scouts…

The “gays” were an issue.  More than an issue really, they were a problem.  If someone was queer, these radio hosts were quick to villainize; “this teacher is going to turn their students gay,” “this troop leader is going to abuse his scouts,” you don’t want your kid to end up like that, do you?”

My dad would listen to these folks non-stop and nod along in agreement, all the while his extremely queer and aware of it child was sitting right behind him, listening to how she was some kind of monster.

So I hid. 

There could be no sharing about aspects of myself.  My parents would be listening to 770am or Fox News all the time.  If I share that I was queer, I’d be finished.  How couldn’t that be the case?  Every day they chose to listen to people that hate me, so they hate people like me. 

So I can’t let them know me.  I won’t let them know me.

Even though they never said that they hated queer people with their own words, they told me that they hated queer people every day with the media they chose, and in turn forced me to consume.

So again, if there are any parents reading this right now, consider my words.  Hate is a choice you make, and hate can be communicated with more than just words.

If for no other reason, you never know if that kid in the back seat is listening, listening to how you hate them.

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

Rites: Valentine

Same-sex relationship is still illegal in my country and punishable with prison term, that's why me and my boyfriend always have to lay low in public and even also took some extra measures in private to ensure our safety. But, for Valentine's Day, we always did something special for the past 2 years and we absolutely planned to do it again this year. Last year it was two stereotypical American college football jocks, this year.....well, we wanted something different

We stumbled upon this opportunity during our research about moving out from our country and settle in an entirely different one. They helped people to relocate for short-term, like quick break from daily living, to long-term such as a complete change of life. Was it the alcohol or what that clouded our judgment back then, but we followed through the procedure back at that day from that shady website and found ourselves the following morning not next to each other and in a completely different country altogether. It was chaotic but we managed to found each other and have the best sex of our relationship to that date before all in a sudden ripped away from the two fine dadbod to return to our ordinary life when the time was up

This year, we're much more well-planned and prepared as we decided to go to Brazil to celebrate our 3rd Valentine together. Spotting that Valentine falls on Friday this year, we also requested a return back to our body by Sunday evening in our country timezone because we still need to go to work on Monday after all

"Ready?"

"Always. Directly DM me, okay?"

"Sure thing, babe,"

"Okay, good night,"

---

I know it's our third time doing this, but it's always giving me such chills to open my eyes and found myself to not be in bed but actually in the middle of doing something inside a completely different body. We did mention to the agency to land us inside fit, 21-35 years old age group Brazilian men, but the weight of it really only hit when you experienced it, and it's certainly true for this one because this guy I'm in is thick!

It's Friday morning here in Rio, and I'm inside this huge tatted hunk named Gonzalo, his buzzcut and overall style makes him look very intimidating but there's a charming side to this handsome stud that I know I won't be able to resist if he flashes his smile to me. A small dog on a leash that I held added another element of surprise because I'm terrified of dog and I really cannot touch dog but I think Gonzalo here has no problem with it, right? I quickly take a selfie of myself and directly send the picture to my boyfriend's Insta as Gonzalo's insta is accessible anyway. Ohhh....he's typing right away, so he logged in to his account already huh......I wonder how he looks like

"Morning, handsome stranger. Just finished with my morning run, I'm reeked. Name's Joao,"

Fuck me, he's looking like a snack! Gonzalo's memory is filled with women and these repeated names of Carla that appeared in a lot of the memory, a girlfriend of Gonzalo apparently, but sorry to that woman, boyfriend is not going to celebrate Valentine's Day with her this year. I started to add my own input to Gonzalo's mind and make this body heated for the snack that is Joao on my screen, as I type my reply stating my interest to come over to check out how reeked he is. This two dudes might not actually know each other, but we don't really care about all that because what mattered for now is the fact that my boyfriend is inside of that man and I want to give him the love and fucking he deserved for his Valentine's Day

Once I receive the detail of his apartment location and another sultry selfie of his already taking off his musky cap and sweaty tanktop, I'm headed his way with the dog coming along with me.

The temperature in Rio is not that different with our hometown, so I find no problem strutting around over here through the walkways to the apartment located around 25 minutes walk from Gonzalo's residence. The people is definitely a lot more diverse and wearing a much-more revealing clothes compared to my hometown, but really, my mind just wandered to the idea of my boyfriend inside that taut Brazilian twunk, probably still sweaty with almost no clothings on already waiting for me. The colors of the street, the sight and senses of a new city, everything becomes secondary as I can feel the throbbing meat is accustomed to its owner's gay thoughts and just ready to be released from its cotton prison.

When I finally ring the bell of his apartment unit, the door opened quickly to the sight I simply cannot resist. I instantly lunged at him for a kiss and before long, we're already stripped naked from all our clothings as we consummate our Brazilian outings right here in this apartment while the sun shines nicely on us and the neighbors clearly can see us fucking each other but not gonna call police on us

[maeintree]

first kiss statistics | s. reid

Summary: Spencer Reid can’t help but overanalyze, especially when it comes to new experiences. As the moment between you two grows more charged, he dives into a detailed breakdown of first kisses, but before he can get too far into the statistics, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: Fluff, light kissing, and suggestive sexual themes. Author's Note: jus some small fluff to get me started throughout the day! wrote this on the bus so forgive me if the writing is a 'lil ehhh. nevertheless, enjoy <3

Spencer Reid had a tendency to overanalyze, especially when it came to things like numbers, probabilities, and, as you quickly learned, emotions.

You had spent countless hours together—solving cases, sharing stories, laughing at random trivia—but the air between you two had started to shift. The way his eyes lingered a little longer on you, the quiet smiles, and how he’d look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know what was going on. You had been in the same boat for a while now, both dancing around the undeniable pull between you two. But Spencer being Spencer, it was only a matter of time before he tried to make sense of it all—calculated it down to the very last decimal.

And tonight, it seemed, was that night.

The two of you were sitting on the couch in his apartment, a case from the day still fresh in your mind. The distant sound of the TV playing was barely noticeable in the background.

Spencer had been rambling on about the latest book he’d read, something about quantum physics, when he suddenly quieted, his gaze shifting from the pages of his book to you. The space between you seemed impossibly small, yet neither of you moved.

You could feel the tension in the air—both of you were trying to navigate this unspoken thing, but neither of you knew where to begin. You glanced down at your lap, fingers fiddling nervously, before you felt the soft brush of Spencer’s knee against yours.

The light touch, so innocent and casual, made your heart beat a little faster.

“So,” Spencer began, his voice tentative as if he were still unsure of how to broach the topic, “have you ever heard of the psychology behind first kisses?”

You raised an eyebrow, shifting to face him fully. “Spencer, are you really going to lecture me on first kisses?”

His lips twitched in that half-smile you’d come to adore, but there was an unmistakable tension in his shoulders. “No, it’s just... well, the first kiss is crucial. There’s a whole branch of research on it—on how it affects the likelihood of long-term compatibility, how it can set the tone for the entire relationship.”

You tilted your head, already suspecting where this conversation might go. “And what does the research say, Doctor Reid?”

He paused for a moment, considering, before launching into one of his signature monologues.

“Well, according to a study from the University of Michigan, there’s a 70% correlation between a positive first kiss and the success of a relationship. That’s a pretty high percentage, considering there’s so much that could go wrong. Lip pressure, angle, timing... There’s also a study by Dr. Justin Lehmiller that suggests kissing with passion can create a chemical reaction—dopamine and oxytocin—which, in theory, should make us feel more connected to each other.”

You had to bite back a smile.

Spencer Reid. His brain working overtime, analyzing everything, even when the situation didn’t need analysis.

The more he talked, the more you could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, his expression becoming more and more absorbed in the science of it all.

“But,” he continued, completely unaware of the amused smile creeping onto your face, “there are a number of variables. For example, the timing of the kiss, the level of comfort between the partners, and—”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Spencer was too cute, too wrapped up in his own thoughts, and you needed to snap him out of it before he started bringing up the various angles and kissing techniques again. You reached out, placing your finger gently over his lips to stop his rambling.

“Spencer,” you said, your voice low but firm, “can you just... stop?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the sudden interruption. “Stop?”

“Stop thinking so much,” you said with a soft laugh. “Just for a second.”

His eyes widened, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “I—I don’t know how to not think, matter of fact, that's impossibl—”

You interrupt him. “Then just feel.” You inched closer, your heart pounding in your chest as you closed the distance.

His eyes darted between your lips and your eyes, his breath quickening, and you could tell he was still trying to calculate the probability of what might happen next.

Before he could say anything else, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, cutting off his analysis entirely.

At first, Spencer was frozen—his body stiff as though he couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening. But then, slowly, tentatively, his lips began to move against yours, a gentle and cautious touch that spoke of everything he hadn’t said yet.

His hand hovered beside you for a moment before gently resting against your shoulder, his fingers brushing your skin.

The kiss was everything you imagined and nothing like what you expected. It wasn’t about probabilities or perfect techniques. It was raw, unfiltered, and real. It was messy in the best possible way, with your hearts beating in sync and everything around you fading into the background.

When you finally pulled away, you could feel the heat on your cheeks. Spencer’s eyes were wide, blinking as if trying to catch up to the moment. His breath was shaky, and his lips parted slightly as though he were still processing the kiss.

“I... uh,” he stammered, trying to find his words, “I didn’t... I didn’t factor in the emotional connection, the—”

You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Spencer, I swear to God, if you bring up another statistic right now, I’m going to kiss you again to stop you.”

His eyes widened, a flash of realization crossing his face. “Wait—what do you—”

Before he could say anything else, you stood up and, without a word, slid onto his lap. Spencer froze for a moment, eyes wide as he processed the sudden change, but then his hands instinctively settled on your waist.

His breath hitched as you leaned in, your lips meeting his once again, this time with more intensity.

You deepened the kiss, your hands threading into his hair as you pulled him closer. Spencer’s hands tightened around you, and you could feel the nervous energy melting away as he kissed you back, fully present—just the feeling of you in his arms. The kiss grew more urgent, more passionate, as though neither of you could wait any longer.

When you finally broke away, both of you were breathless, your hearts racing. Spencer’s face was flushed, his lips swollen from the kiss, and his eyes shone with a mixture of surprise and contentment.

“I guess I was right,” he whispered, his voice a little hoarse.

“About what?” you asked, still resting against him, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

“That some things... don’t need to be calculated,” he said with a smile, his hands gently caressing your back.

You grinned, pressing another soft kiss to his lips.

"Good."

hope you enjoyed this fluffy fic. writing this made me happy and i hope you reading it will too :) likes, reposts, and comments are much appreciated!

[astrasng]

kisses shared with ateez 𝜗𝜚

→ summary: ateez as type of kisses. they are down bad for you

→ warning: mainly fluff, nothing else

→ a/n: happy valentine's day to everyone ♡ make sure to treat yourself to something delicious and stay hydrated! ♡ ps: probably jongo's my fav from all of these 🤭

here's the masterlist to the event ^^

enjoy!♡

──── ⋆˚࿔ hongjoong || hurried kiss

hongjoong, the busy man he is, often forgets about giving you a kiss before leaving for work. and that often leads to hurried kisses, wanting to give you every single ounce of his love into one messy, i have to leave kiss before finally letting you go. he often can't control his feelings when it comes to you, especially when you are kissing him, your hands in his hair or around his neck, pulling him even closer, meaning that he's deeping the kiss too. starting with a soft kiss, that's what he thougth. it feels so good having your lips on his, so good that he can't let go even though he needs to go to work. and you know that too, but oh well, you're more important, right? because the minute hongjoong pulls away and whispers kiss me more in a hoarse voice tells you that you are more important than anything.

──── ⋆˚࿔ seonghwa || comforting kisses

seonghwa is simply someone who is a comforting person in general. his prescence often makes you calm whenever something stressful is happening in your life. the tone he's talking to you never heard being mean or sour,rather calm and warm. that also goes for his kisses. he often senses you being tired from a long day, only wanting to lay down on your shared bed or couch to sleep a little in seonghwa's arms, which he gladly accepts. whenever that happens, he can't help but press kisses all over your face, your temple, the top of your head or your closed eyelids which only makes you even sleepier. the feeling of his kisses spreads warmth all over your body, snuggling closer into his arms as he keeps his lips pressed on the top of your head. he feels so lucky to have you.

──── ⋆˚࿔ yunho || tingly kiss

the type of kiss that makes you want more and it leaves you feeling all tingly from yunho is just deadly. he always pulls away just before you could kiss him right back intensively, your hands still in his hair as his are steady on your waist. he smiles down at you, and then simply leaves. that's how easy it is for him, the control he has over himself making his ego even bigger when he knows how annoyed you feel at times like these. you can't help but touch your lips like in the movies, feeling your muscle still tingling in the best of the best of terms, literally still feeling his soft lips on yours. how lovingly he can press a kiss on your skin and lips, his body molding into yours to punctuate his unspoken words. in this way, not only his kiss, but his whole prescence makes you tingle with love.

──── ⋆˚࿔ yeosang || surprise kisses

yeosang isn't usually the one initiating the kiss first. he does, from time to time, but it always surprises you when he randomly kisses your temple, or your cheeks, god bless you your lips out of nowhere. even after all these years being together, still feels like it's a surprise feeling him walking up next to you or hopping down on the couch just to give you a kiss. it makes him often realize how rarely he makes the first move. it often makes him angry too, and often all those kisses are originally from him being beaten up on silly things like this. you told him once - don't be silly, i don't mind making the first move! making sure to reassure him that it really doesn't bother you. but still, it makes him want to initiate more things in your relationship, giving you everything you deserve because he loves seeing you being flustered by his sudden actions.

──── ⋆˚࿔ san || the i love yous

whispering i love you between kisses is san's specialty. doesn't matter where you are, or the circumstances. you can either be mad at him for some reason, or be in stupidly in love with him. he doesn't care, because san always wants to let you know how much he loves you. there isn't a time where he doesn't say it, or shows it to you. during cuddling or walking on the street - stopping in midsentence just to kiss you on the lips. deep, and long, feeling his emotions bored into that one single kiss. he whispers i love you when he feels like going in for a second kiss, or saying i love you so fucking much when you are both lost in a heated shared kiss which leads into multiple one.

──── ⋆˚࿔ mingi || kisses from behind

given mingi's height is easy for him to only drop his head lower and press kisses either on your shoulders, or the side of your neck. he grabs the opportunity when he sees you standing with your back to him,either doing something in the kitchen or looking at something at a supermarket. he loves walking up behind you and snaking an arm, maybe both, around your waist to pull himself closer and kiss your skin. it often makes you shiver just from his touch, feeling him behind you and hugging you from behind as he can't seem to stop pecking your exposed skin. sometimes he even murmurs I love your perfume or i missed you so much after a long day of not seeing you.

──── ⋆˚࿔ wooyoung || flustered kiss

wooyoung often sneaks kisses here and there, pressing a quick kiss before leaving on your forehead or cheeks. it doesn't matter, the only thing that matters is that he always gives you a kiss before leaving. but when he's home with you and the air is a little hotter than it should be? woo can't help himself to disattach himself off of you, your perfume pulling him in every time for more kisses and cuddles. and because of this, it often leads him kissing his way up from your wrist all the way up to your collarbones and lastly your lips. he focuses on your lips so much that by the time you two pull away you have to fight for air. he feels proud when he sees your face all flustered and red, ears burning off under his stare as he murmurs cute under his breath.

──── ⋆˚࿔ jongho || palm kisses

he's the romantic type. even if he doesn't necesseraly shows it, he is. he thinks kissing your warm palm of your hand says more i love yous than any other kisses. pressing a long, meaningful kiss in the center of your palm, all the way to your fingertips and to your knuckles feels like he's trying to erupt all the butterflies in your stomach. and he does, because you are left with the deepest shade of red on your face and chest, seeing him smirking under his breath by how cute you are. it's not unusual that he does this, he's a gentleman at heart, but you can't ever get use to him being this flirty and affectionate when it's just the two of you. kudos if he does this little moves of his infront of his friends or family with a wink in your way, you know that you'll marry this man no matter what.

a/n: if you've gotten to this point of my event, thank you so much for reading! i hope everyone had a good time, i tried to go with a more suave feeling for valentine's. ik i had a lot of fun, thank you so much for the notes and reblogs!

taglist: @arunainluv @myraet @peterm4rker @chenlezip

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

[hergurlc]

Kitty’s been able to get to know her mom and have shared experiences a bit more while at KISS and the cherry blossom tree is one of many things that is so significant to Kitty and her connection to her mom. From what I can see, it tends to appear in moments where Kitty is and/or subconsciously struggling or vulnerable. Every time Kitty’s near a cherry blossom tree I personally think it’s symbolism of her mom being there with her/guiding her.(but that’s just me)

Which leads me to taking you all back to season 1 ep 1 where Kitty was rummaging thru her mom’s old stuff and found a photo of her mom and a ‘dude’ with the cherry blossom tree??!!! Like hello??! The detail??!!! The way it’s connected to love??!! Maybe it’s another case of something or maybe it’s nothing at all cuz we literally know nothing about it but there’s a purpose to every scene right? Finding those things was what led Kitty to S.Korea.

Now, I’ve seen some people talk about the ending scene of MoonCovey with the cherry blossoms and I just have to say I’m glad they decided to film that scene at the school because even tho it may not have been her mom’s tree, I love the strategic storytelling that was done in that scene. Yeah maybe I’m delulu but the way the fully bloomed tree was specifically in the background of Minho is symbolic! I mean he even entered into the dance with an exploding ball of cherry blossoms. BOTH from Kitty’s direct point of view AND the cherry blossom dance was where she admitted her own feelings! Strategic storytelling!!!

Of course, beyond that, it totally symbolizes Kitty’s blooming love(full bloom too) for Minho but I also again connect it back to her mom and the way she’s there spiritually helping Kitty come to terms/realization with things esp in moments of vulnerability. Delululy speaking, It’s almost like she’s telling her it’s okay! Trust yourself! He’s the one!!🥹🤭

Side note: I know we did have a little moment with Kitty and Dae in the first season with cherry blossom trees but the difference in the way it’s so highlighted behind Minho is totally symbolic.

[autumn-sweet-fae]

Jayvik time-travel fix-it Concept

So with the anomaly transportation theory gaining more support, let me pitch this to ya’ll:

Jayce and Viktor holding the acceleration rune stone between them in the chaos of the anomaly one second, and then standing together in Jayce’s old blown up apartment, with Jayce’s same acceleration rune stone bracelet held between them the next.

The two fall into each other, hugging and crying at both being alive together and being back before all their mistakes could be made.

They’re both restored to their younger selves, but also forever changed by their connection to the arcane. Viktor can still feel the arcane within him, not the consuming void of the hexcore, but a new awareness and understanding of the world he didn’t have before. He could also still feel the tethered connection to Jayce, those iridescent fingerprints reemerging in a glow when the connection is tugged, but otherwise hidden.

Jayce can still feel the phantom pains of his anomaly infected injuries, the webbed scars following into this reality, even though the bone itself never suffered the break. Jayce himself cannot sense the arcane as well a Viktor on his own, but when he tugs on their connection he can feel it through his partner.

And so here they are, two young scientist turned mages, sitting in the center of Piltover, a city that has no tolerance for any such magics.

It’s Jayce who suggest they leave for Zaun, take what they can carry and find a little place in the undercity to hide away, until they can figure out what they want to do next. Viktor finds himself agreeing, as there’s no way he can face Heimerdinger again without the Yortle clocking his dramatic change of character, if not his outright connection to the arcane.

Viktor would think of getting in contact with Vander, the man he found within the beast. He deeply regretted what he had done to Vander in their past life, and hoped he and Jayce might be able to help him in some way. After all, it makes sense for two runaways to seek to build an allyship with the leader of the Lanes, for both protection and potential work in the short term.

It’s in this moment then that Viktor is slapped with the realization that this is the very night Vander dies.

Refusing to let such a thing come to pass, to let Vanders beautiful dream for Zaun and his family be shattered once again, the two would start brainstorming what they could possibly do to prevent such an out come. It doesn’t take long for them to come to one troubling conclusion….

To instead ally themselves with Silco through using Viktors past connection with Dr. Reveck.

-

Later, when Vander discovers Vi’s plan to turn herself in, Vander and Benzo rush to stop her, just as they had in the main timeline.

Except here, no one comes for them. Not Captain Greyson and her Enforcers as they had expected, and not Silco and his goons either. Instead, the night goes on, and Vanders family is safe, not yet aware of the strings being pulled around them.

Until the next day, when Captain Greyson arrives for a privet chat. She carry’s two documents with her. One, the confession from Vi. The other, a warrant for the arrest of two wanted men who had gone missing last night. After stealing all the confiscated equipment from the lab Vanders kids had robbed.

She demands that Vander use his pull over the Lanes to fine these missing fugitives, and in exchange, she’ll push to have the search for his people dismissed. After all, one of the missing men, Jayce Talis, was the same man that lived in that apartment. And Viktor? A potential traitor to the academy and Piltover, to have no doubt helped a disgraced mad scientist like Talis steal back his illegal research and then smuggled him out of the city to his homeland of Zaun.

The Hound of the Underground will do what it takes to protect his family.

The hunt is on.

(Additionally, Viktor eventually wearing Silco down to rethink his takeover plans and maybe even Communicate with Vander. While Vander is getting back his spark to fight back against Piltover again between more arguments with Vi and maybe a confrontation with Jayce.

Viva la revolution + Zaundads couple counseling)

[gulliblelemon]

Young Royals Fic Recommendations 5

Find previous lists here: 1, 2, 3, 4

I also have my own fic list here.

running with wolves by intothelight @enjoythesilentworld 28k words. WIP. Rating E. Wilhelm and Simon are on two sides of a war on drugs and corruption and greed. And yet, they just can’t seem to stay away from each other. (Honourable mention to call ur crush! by the same author).

Met You At The Right Time by itsme_hi_imtheproblem @iwouldnevergetintofanfic 45k words. Complete. Rating M. When their kids get into a fight at school, single dads Simon and Wille are brought together at a meeting with the teacher. As the experienced professional that she is, she suggests a joint craft activity to repair the damage that was caused. Both Wille and Simon expect sticky paste fingers and potential meltdowns but surprisingly enough discover that they have more in common than they thought. Their friendship starts out easy, yet the growing attraction between them threatens to make things a whole lot more complicated. (Honourable mention to Crossing Lines by the same author).

Sabotage by @dreamyelectronicmusic 419 words. Complete. Rating G. A moment on a balcony at a party where Simon's boyfriend confronts Wilhelm. “I see the way you look at him,” a voice startles Wille out of his reverie, “when you think he can’t see you.”

land between our bodies by phnelt @phneltwrites 76k words. WIP. Rating E. Simon holds up his phone on his notes app. He’s been brainstorming. It reads: Hi, Wilhelm. Sorry to message you but I’m having a situation at school with some bullies that I could use your help with. I get if you don’t want to. Thanks. An exes fake dating fic. (Honourable mentions to joy that lights the fire and this life’s for you go outside by the same author).

come closer and see into the dark by @bigalockwood 43k words. WIP. Rating M. A ghost pandemic has descended over Europe, the dead back from their restless sleep to haunt the living. When a case goes horribly wrong, Wilhelm’s agency is thrust into a fight against an unknown opponent – and suddenly, staying alive seems harder than ever. If only Simon cared a little less whether stupid Wilhelm lived or died.

your breath lives in mine, even if it’s been a while by allforyoumylove 45k words. Complete. Rating E. Wilhelm isn’t sure exactly when he fell in love with his best friend. All he knows is that it’s taken root deep inside him, that he loves Simon always and unwaveringly, even when he hates everything else. But the timing is cruel. He’s found what he wants, only for it to slip away before he gets the chance to hold on.

If only you dared to watch by @larrylover3000 24k words. Complete. Rated M. A school camp takes them to the woods, leaving Wilhelm face to face with his sexual awakening - and it’s not pretty.

Never Not You by @pagegirlintraining 81k words. Complete. Rating E. It's been twelve years since Wille publicly denied being in a viral sex tape with Simon, and they've been great friends for years. While Simon's in a committed, long-term relationship and his dreams of becoming a successful musician finally seem to be within reach, Wille's still struggling with his fate of being the Crown Prince, and everything that means for his love life. When nothing goes as planned for Simon, though, and friendly comfort turns into more, how will they cope with the consequences? And what if Wille's been keeping a secret from Simon all these years that might very well destroy whatever it is they have? (Honourable mention to Missing you missing me by the same author).

Now we’re falling like snow by @skibasyndrome 7.8k words. Complete. Rating E. The first heavy snow of the season - what a great opportunity for a slow morning and keeping each other warm.

Fools in a Fable by @unfortunate17 39k words. Complete. Rating E. Simon, a journalist at a left-wing magazine, eagerly accepts the chance of a lifetime to write a scathingly honest piece about the newly crowned King Wilhelm, who has a history shrouded in parties, drugs, and gay allegations. His plans, however, go to shit when he realizes that Wilhelm is nothing like he expected.

Can I be close to you? by @vvachillessongvv 1.4k words. Complete. Rating G. Sitting on the sofa they've sat on together a thousand times before, Wille realizes he's in love with his best friend. (Honourable mention to lovers & friends by the same author).

futile devices by @jordensgolde 73k words. WIP. Rating E. Wilhelm is caught in a consuming infatuation with someone who can never truly be his. Struggling to reconcile his feelings, he tries to ignore the longing, but it lingers, a constant ache beneath the surface. Meanwhile, Simon is overwhelmed by the burdens of his work and the unresolved ghosts of his past, leaving little room for anything else. As he navigates his tangled emotions, love seems like the last thing on his mind — until, perhaps, it isn’t.

Falling in Love is a Full-Time Job by signedmeraki @invisiblewille 4.3k words. Complete. Rating T. Wille and Simon are colleagues and roommates and it feels like there's always been... something between them.

The honeymoon suite by @stretchoutfics 14k words. Complete. Rating E. Wille is stuck up in the far north doing his military service, Simon in Stockholm studying. They've come to an arrangement about how they're going to handle their relationship while they can't be together: they're no longer exclusive. After three months apart, Wille has a weekend's leave and they can finally see each other again. They have a lot to talk about. Amongst other things.

[losers-clvb]

apple pie and valentine's surprises // dean winchester

pairing: dean winchester x girlfriend!reader

summary: it's yours and dean's first valentine's day together! the pressure is on you both to make it perfect for each other, but things don't go according to plan.

content: fluff, reader is bad at baking, swearing, loverboy!dean

word count: 3k

note: happy valentine's day, my loves! in an attempt to bring a little romantic love into my life, i thought i would write a little loverboy!dean. enjoy!

masterlist

----

It was your first Valentine’s Day as Dean Winchester’s girlfriend. You knew you had to make it special. That’s what girlfriends did for their boyfriends, right? Though the two of you had been dating for just under nine months now, you had no clue what to do.

You could cook for him, but you and him cooked for each other all the time.

You could bring him… bowling, maybe? No. Dean was under a lifetime ban from the bowling alley after his ball had mysteriously found itself in the nacho cheese sauce at the snack bar.

It was hopeless. You hated this holiday, the expectations were too high.

“What to do, what to do…,” You mumbled to yourself, searching through the house for things you knew Dean was into.

Guns. Beer. That weird anime porn you had convinced him to stop watching around you.

Your eyes skirted past a half-eaten pie in the refrigerator. That was it.

Pie.

You were going to make him a pie. It was special enough. You cooked, but you rarely baked. It was easier to just buy it from the store or weasel some kind of muffin from sweet Mrs. Turner next door.

But it couldn’t be that hard. You knew how to cook. Baking was probably the same.

You gathered together your list of ingredients you would need from the store before dashing out of the front door.

----

Dean was in the same situation. Every single idea he had come up with so far only included the two of you naked. That wasn’t what you were looking forward to. Girls wanted sappy, romantic dates on Valentine’s Day, with flowers and chocolates and a bunch of other girly shit that Dean would have to look into. They wanted something out of the normal, something special, and you two had sex far too often for it to be considered “special”.

Dean had even resorted to going to Sam for advice. Sure, his brother wasn’t currently with someone, but he had more long-term girlfriends than Dean had. That’s where he was now, banging open the door to Sam’s room.

“Hey!” Sam shouted in alert, jumping at the sudden intrusion. “Do you ever knock?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Dean brushed Sam off. This wasn’t the first time knocking had been an issue with Dean. “I need your help.”

“You break into my room to make me help you with something?” Sam asked, absolutely astonished at Dean’s nerve.

“I’m not makin’ you, Sammy. I’m begging!” Dean breathed out dramatically, throwing himself onto his brother’s bed. Sam rolled his eyes in response, turning back to the pile of laundry he was folding. When Sam didn’t answer him, Dean lifted his head up to see what the hold up was about.

“I’m serious, Sammy.” Dean scoffed, pulling himself up into a sitting position.

“Okay, fine.” Sam sighed, stopping his chore to cross his arms in front of him. “What is your big problem?” He asked condescendingly. Dean narrowed his eyes at him but chose not to reprimand him for it.

“I don't know what to do for Valentine's Day.” Dean grumbled out, ignoring Sam's attempt to stifle a laugh.

“Seriously? That's it?” Sam laughed. Dean glared at him.

“Yes! It's a big deal, okay?” Dean defended himself. He was starting to regret going to Sam about this. Maybe he should have just Googled it.

“Get her flowers or something.” Sam dismissed his brother, going back to his laundry. Dean rolled his eyes.

“It has to be special, Sammy. I get her flowers all the time.”

“It doesn't have to be special. It's just another day.”

“Girls like special. They like this Hallmark holiday shit.” Dean argued.

“So…,” Sam said as he thought. Obviously Dean wasn’t going to just leave him alone. “Candles.”

“Candles?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Candles and rose petals.” Sam decided, nodding.

“Where the hell did you get that from?” Dean questioned, though he was going to use the advice. He had no other options.

“Come on, Dean. It’s in, like, all the romance movies.” Sam stated the obvious. Dean was looking at him like Sam had just dropped a puppy into his lap.

“You watch those chick flicks?” Dean teased, taking the opportunity to make fun of his little brother.

“Get out of my room.” Sam rolled his eyes. Next time he was locking the door.

----

Turns out baking was nothing like cooking. Sure, you used similar ingredients, but this shit was hard. What the hell was a dough blender and why did every recipe use it?

You had forgone the kitchen tool, opting instead to use your hands. It seemed to do the trick, even if the dough looked a little lumpy. Next, you had to bake just the crust in the pan. Easy enough, but why did you need to bake pie twice?

You pulled the pan you had bought from the store out of the grocery bag. You had a ton of options, but the moment you laid your eyes on the heart-shaped metal, you knew that was the one. It would make the pie extra special, and who didn’t love hearts?

The tricky part was rolling the dough out. You hadn’t gotten a rolling pin. The fact that you didn’t own one flew right over your head while shopping. Your mom always had one, but it was used more as decoration than anything else. You just figured it was something that magically appeared in a person’s kitchen.

You scanned the kitchen for something, anything that would flatten the dough out. Your eyes landed on the cupboard that held your cups. Perfect. Well, almost perfect. You shuffled through the mismatched glasses and found the most uniform one you could. It was tapered toward the bottom, making the act of smoothing out the top of your dough difficult but not impossible.

Once you had the dough pressed into the pan and in the oven, you turned around to survey your mess. Flour was clouding over most of the counter, butter wrappers had fallen to the ground, and you had gone through five -- yes, five -- mixing bowls while combing the ingredients.

“What the hell are you up to?” You heard from behind you. You jumped. No one was supposed to be home. Sam went wherever Sams went to during the day and Dean had rushed out of the door with a half excuse you didn’t quite believe. You thought you would have the space to yourself for at least a few hours. Apparently, Dean had thought the same of himself, if the bags he was failing to hide behind him had anything to say.

“Nothing!” You yelped out a bit too fast to be natural. Dean narrowed his eyes, trying to peek around you to look at your mess. You, in an attempt to conceal your gift to him, spread your arms out. “Stop looking!”

Dean chuckled at you, but when you were the one to eye his bags, he was doing the same thing.

“Keep your eyes to yourself, sweetheart.” Dean barked out, pushing the bags further behind him. You pouted playfully, but kept your arms out until he shuffled away. Dean was up to something, you knew it. You just hoped you wouldn’t have to wait too long to find out what it was.

----

“Oh no.” You breathed out. Everything was going very bad very fast. The apple filling that you had been brewing up in a pot was somehow not cooked yet burning at the same time. Your mess had quadrupled itself. The pie crust had puffed up far too much, leaving virtually no room for filling. And somehow there was an apple skin stuck to the ceiling, though you were sure you hadn’t peeled the apples that viciously.

You scrambled around for your phone. The recipe was supposed to be displayed on the screen, but the page had refreshed and you were brought back to the top. After scrolling for what felt like an hour, the story about the baker Laura Lee’s great-great-great-grandmother’s apple farm -- like you gave a shit about that -- flying past your eyes, you finally figured out what you had done wrong.

1/4 cup of apple juice

1 tablespoon of cinnamon

You had switched the two around. You had thought, at the time, that it was far too much cinnamon but had brushed it off as a secret family recipe, as Laura Lee had boasted. That was why the pot was smoking now, even after you had turned the burner off.

Okay, but it didn’t explain the crust. What could you have done wrong? Every ingredient was correct, with the correct amounts, yet the puffed up pan seemed to laugh at you.

Roll out the dough, blah, blah, blah, cut to size, blah, blah, blah, place in pan with pie weights on top

Wait, what the fuck were pie weights?

After a quick search you had learned that pie weights were the things that kept the fucking crust from rising, as yours had. Great. Just great. You didn’t have time to remake the crust, nor the filling. It was growing close to the time when you and Dean had decided to celebrate the holiday. You would have to make do. You were nothing if not resourceful, a lie you told yourself as you dumped in what filling you could fit over the crust. You shoved the dish into the oven, slamming the door shut out of frustration.

Now to clean. Why was baking so damn messy?

You dropped your dishes into the sink, promising yourself you would do them later, though Sam would probably get to them first. The tedious task of scraping each and every apple skin scrap off of the counter distracted you from another presence entering the kitchen. You hadn’t noticed anyone was there, in fact, until their arms wrapped around you.

You tensed up before the scent of gunpowder and sandalwood told you it was Dean. You sighed out in defeat, twisting around in his arms. Dean had a crooked smile on his face, amusement in his eyes. You frowned back at him.

“You weren’t supposed to see all this.” You informed him, wrapping your own arms around his neck. Dean pulled you in closer with his hands resting just above your butt. He shrugged.

“It’s kinda hard to miss, sweetheart.”

You just nodded, another sigh leaving your lips. This wasn’t perfect. This was messy and completely wrong. Nothing had gone according to plan.

The beep of a timer alerted you to the fact that your pie was done, or as done as it was going to get. You wiggled out of Dean’s grasp and pulled your creation out. It wasn’t perfectly golden brown like you had expected and the apples looked dried up. You spun around to let Dean get a look of his gift. His face lit up.

“Pie.” He voiced out, walking to you. You dropped the pan onto the counter and crossed your arms.

“Not really.” You criticized, eyeing over every flaw the dessert held. Dean paid no mind to this. You had gone out of your way, out of your comfort zone, to make him something he loved. Sure, it didn’t look like the traditional pies he had eaten, but coming from you meant it was going to be the best kind of pie.

“Ah, come on. It’s…,” Dean searched for something that would comfort you, “a special family recipe.” He finished, snapping his fingers at the quick thinking. You smiled gratefully at him, but it didn’t make the disappointment go away. Dean frowned at your continued displeasure.

“I’m sure it tastes better than it looks.” He said while pulling a fork from the silverware drawer. He dug right into the middle and pushed the apple/crust mixture into his mouth. You watched in anticipation. The immediate disgust on his face made you look away, embarrassed. He was wrong. It didn’t taste better, if anything, it tasted worse.

“Delicious, best pie I’ve ever had.” Dean lied, nodding and forcing a smile onto his face. It took some work, but he was able to swallow down the food. You shook your head and walked away from the counter, arms wrapping around yourself.

“Don’t lie to me, Dean.” You mumbled. You hated that you had failed at making something for him. He was just appreciative that you had thought of him at all.

“Hey, no, no, no,” Dean repeated, rushing in front of you. You looked up at him and felt a little lighter. That always seemed to happen when you looked at him. He always made a bad day a bit better.

“It’s amazing, sweetie. I mean, anything that’s heart-shaped has to be, right?” Dean smiled brightly at you, hands resting on your shoulders. You scrunched your nose up at the statement, but a small laugh left you. Dean took that as a sign he was getting to you.

“I’m gonna eat the whole freakin’ thing.” He announced, turning to go back to the dessert. He wasn’t going to like it, but if it made you happy, he would do it. I mean, he’s gone to Hell and back, this couldn’t be any worse.

“No, stop.” You grabbed at his wrist. Relief flooded Dean. He really didn’t want to eat that again. You stretched up and placed a kiss on his lips. “Don’t torture yourself for me, De.”

Dean kissed you now, before pulling away and grasping your hands in his.

“Your turn.” He announced, a wide smile on his face. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering what he could possibly have in store for you. You let out a noise of surprise when he walked behind you and placed his hands over your eyes.

“No looking.” Dean said as he slowly guided you across the kitchen. You were bad at walking without seeing. You kept tripping over your own feet. You gripped onto Dean’s wrists for support.

“Do you have your eyes closed too?” You asked when you felt your hip bump into a wall. You could imagine Dean’s eye roll.

“Just keep walking, sweetheart.” He grumbled out. You realized he was leading you to your shared bedroom, the path becoming a bit more familiar. You shuffled along, your socked feet softened your steps. You felt Dean tug you to a stop, announcing the fact that you had reached your destination.

“Three, two, one…,” Dean mumbled into your ear before giving your sight back to you. You blinked to clear your vision, looking around the room. Dean had you and him standing in the middle of the room. The curtains were pulled closed. The only light in the room came from the candles scattered around the room. Your eyes softened at the sight of rose petals littering the floor and bed, a box of chocolates laying on the pillows.

“I love it.” You whispered, not wanting to break the soft aura of the room. You turned around to face Dean. He wore a dopey smile on his face. You threw yourself into him, kissing him.

Dean had done much better than you had. This was perfect. The candles, the petals, the chocolates, all of it looked straight out of a movie. You didn’t question where he had gotten the idea from. All you could focus on was the way his hands fell to your hips.

You both moved in sync as you made your way to the bed. Dean lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he walked. You let your fingers weave into the hair on the back of his head. It was all amazing, all you could feel was the desire coming from Dean. It was so distracting, the rest of the world, including the candles, faded from your attention.

You hadn’t even noticed the small fire starting on the carpet until you smelled the burning of the fibers. You pulled away from Dean. You yelped at the flames reaching up higher and higher. In a fight-or-flight type of reaction, Dean dropped you to go bat at the fire with a stray t-shirt that had been laying on the ground. You landed on your butt with a thump. There would surely be a bruise there later on. You held yourself up with your hands behind your back, watching as Dean cursed to himself. The fire was ultimately put out, though the blackened spot on the carpet still smoked with the memory of it.

Dean looked to you, chest heaving from the intensity of what had happened. You both stared at each other, eyes wide. No one said a word. Dean had messed up. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to play firefighter tonight -- at least, not unless you had asked for it. He had failed at making this one thing special for you.

A small giggle coming from you interrupted his thoughts. Dean watched as you doubled over in laughter, a bit of flour still coating your hair from your attempted baking. Your laughter somehow pulled his own bout of chuckles from him. He found himself pulling you up from the floor and you both laughed together, folding into each other’s arms. You two looked like lunatics, standing over a smoking chunk of carpet while laughing.

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.” Dean laughed out, leading you to the bed. You shoved the box of chocolates to the floor, climbing under the blankets. Dean followed behind you, pulling you to lay on top of him.

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” You kissed his nose.

You weren’t perfect. Dean wasn’t perfect. Your relationship wasn’t perfect. But it was okay. You had each other, that was all you needed. You two would live everyday, being imperfect together. There was one thing that was clear: this was yours and Dean’s first, and last, attempt at a perfect Valentine’s Day.

[jaybejaybeyes]

Unpopular opinion: season 2 didn’t do Jayvik the justice it deserved.

But BEFORE you throw anything at me, hear me out. Given where things stood after Jinx’s attack, I get why it went the way it did. From that perspective, their portrayal was pretty solid — the inner conflict, the tragic beauty, the whole multiversal soulmate thing even with the uncanny implications of Old Man Viktor forcing timelines into that Herald ending. I cried my eyes out watching the last ep, it was beautiful, but.

Looking back at s1, my heart aches for the missed potential. The biggest one for me is how we never saw Jayce face the slow, inevitable loss of Viktor. The grief, the helplessness, the weight of watching the person closest to him die — never explored (we didn’t even get to see him properly mourn Viktor’s departure in act 1 of s2).  And Viktor? He never had the chance to confront his fear of his legacy being erased again and never shared those thoughts with Jayce.

I know Arcane isn’t about slow hospital room melodrama, but I can’t help but think of the emotional depth we missed. Viktor never had to lean on Jayce — physically and mentally — realising he’s running out of time but he’s got so much to tell him. He never had that raw moment of pure vulnerability, of breaking down — both alone and in front of Jayce — crying, refusing to accept his end, and then coming to terms with it. And Jayce never got to show Viktor how much he’s willing to sacrifice for him in a setting that didn’t require the sacrifice as some heroic act. He mentioned it briefly in s2, but he never actually put everything aside — Council, science — just to be there, letting his life fall apart and the world burn while staying with Viktor, terrified of losing him but trying to stay brave.

Sure, it wouldn’t have been as visually stunning as s2, but I can’t stop thinking about the emotional depth left unexplored — the way it could’ve expanded and enriched their characters. To see them face their greatest fear — losing each other — to see them at their lowest and see their love revealed in such a raw, genuine way… that’s the story I’ll always wish we got

(I suppose I’ll write a fic like that someday and put these thoughts to rest)

[dreamwreaver]

Yes! So many parallels indeed between Lucilith and Charlastor, it's actually crazy. It's been a long time since I rambled, things have been busy and sorry for how long this ask is!

Aside from the obvious height difference and personality contrast with their business partner/husband, Alastor and Lilith were gone for seven years.

What's very interesting about it is that Lilith and Lucifer built or ruled over hell together and her absence dealt a detrimental blow to Lucifer's state of mind and made him a neglectful king of hell. She has her own morally ambiguous plans like Alastor that would most likely make her betray her family.

While Charlie's hotel was hardly meeting success until Alastor showed up and given the hotel it's iconic name that she even kept despite it's way of mocking it and together they represent the mission and vision of the hotel. Even if Alastor isn't all that interested in the cause, there's also the fact if it weren't for him stationed at the hotel, Pentious wouldn't have showed up at the hotel to battle him and take Vox's orders which would lead to Charlie convincing him to join for the cause and end up being the first redeemed soul.

Alastor and Lilith are extremely pivotal to Charlie and Lucifer for their developments as leaders with responsibilities as Alastor is the ultimate challenge as a sinner for Charlie and Lilith will cause Lucifer to finally act upon his duties. I have seen some arguments about Vaggie being the Lilith to Charlie's Lucifer and even the show pushes that idea with "More Than Anything Reprise" but I personally don't think that's the case plotwise.

Vaggie doesn't have her own ideals or passion unlike Lilith who has her own goals and drive outside of Lucifer and wishes change just like her daughter. She's more of a supporter of Charlie rather than the inciter of her growth and she doesn't even have such high involvement when it comes to Charlie's progression of her character.

Alastor is obviously not meant to be the love interest but he has a strong purpose in Charlie's character and goals. He's a sinner just like Lilith, having the human experience and dark morals that Charlie needs to learn from him to understand the sinners she intends to redeem. He challenges her and teaches her to learn control, acting as her mentor to help her embrace her demonic traits she had neglected.

Vaggie is Lilith in the sense that she's the loving partner of her royal demon but that's just where the similarity lies. In terms of being her foil and catalyst for change, that's Alastor's part to play and there's no denying how alike he and Lilith are when it comes to their role in the plot.

—rambling nonnie

Hi there Rambley!

I'm sorry it took so long to get a response from me but this is such an interesting analysis and I really wanted to give it the time and consideration it deserves.

First off; you're right. You're just all the way, no bones about it right. I think people compare chaggie to lucilith because "angel and demon" except... that's not true. Lilith was human first. If Adam is the first man, Lilith is the first sinner. The first to fall; the first to become a demon. Technically Charlie isn't even a full on demon, she's a Nephilium at best; half angel and half demon.

Also, I'm gonna say this; Alastor is performing all the emotional labor parts of a relationship. Not that Vaggie isn't doing anything at all. But a canon relationship shouldn't be the fucking noodle incident of a show. Side note; for an in depth explanation of a noodle incident check out OSP's trope talk on the topic. But very basically a noodle incident is an implied event/shenanigan that is referenced off screen but never actually explained. It's meant to help provide depth to a character based on how they react. And the point of a noodle incident is that it is NEVER fully explained because whatever the audience comes up with will always be better than what the writers could.

Why does chaggie feel like a noodle incident relationship? Because we're told all the time they're loving partners, perfectly suited and matched, and shoved as a pair into our faces every five minutes. And you know what? If the show itself actually backed this up with their on screen dynamic I'd be fine with it. Canonnicity is not any reason why I ship so my preferred ship being canon would not mean I dislike the canon one. However, the problem I have is that we're are consistently told that their relationship is perfect and flawless and not even the revelation that vaggie is an exorcist could break them apart. But what precisely is the foundation of their love that makes this so strong? Everything we see on screen only really shows that there are cracks in the bedrock. Vaggie claims to believe in Charlie's dream but treats the sinners under her "care" with passive contempt. She never takes an active role in helping with the goal of redemption of her own volition. Yes, she did the trust lesson but that was because Charlie sort of forced her into it and then when things go badly, which given Vaggie's backstory yes of course she'd believe that combat is the only way to know if you trust someone and yes it all worked out in the end, Vaggie isn't concerned about the fact that she put their employees and residents in danger of being harmed. She's concerned because she failed Charlie. She doesn't see herself as having any purpose beyond making Charlie's dreams come true.

Lilith's purpose was something she rejected originally. Even if the story itself is propaganda from her parents, Charlie knows that her parents CHOSE to be together. Even if it meant suffering eternal damnation. Lilith wanted to make sure that no one was denied choices, given a single purpose with no way to defect from it. Yes, Lucifer loves Lilith and misses her deeply, to the point that he shirks his duties as the ruler of Hell. But let's be clear; lilith's purpose is not to incite Lucifer to do his fucking job. She is plenty able to do things for herself. And if the current theory is right she's in heaven because she was inspiring demon kind to rise up against the injustices doled to them by Heaven. Lilith saw a corrupt system and her first instinct was to take it down.

Seven years she's been gone, and yet Lucifer still wears his wedding ring, and keeps it CLEAN. Like, animation is very intentional, and in a character whose palette is black, white, red, and a pale yellow, the gold of his wedding band sticks out. They could have made it tarnished, something he kept on a chain around his neck. But they didn't. And the thing is that Lilith isn't the only motivation for him to take action. Charlie finally begins to reconcile with him and he sets up the meeting in heaven. Her life is in danger and he immediately poofs into existence to save his daughter. Lucifer does not live for the purpose of someone else. In fact, he also defected from his original purpose; a role which in heaven now seems to have been taken over by Emily.

Back to Alastor doing most of the emotional labor that we'd expect to see in the canon relationship. Alastor has his own ends, his own agenda, his own motivations. All of which are completely separate from Charlie. He doesn't believe redemption is possible. He relishes in violence, and tormenting those he manages to get under his thumb. And yet, as he states; he fulfills Charlie's bizarre requests. He's the one that uses his abilities and clout to give the hotel a reputation that's more than just a joke. He's the one who establishes that they'd need more than just vaggie as an employee to take care of such a large building. And most important of all; the Mimzy incident.

Alastor might claim he doesn't care for attachments. Yet he always helps Mimzy when she runs into trouble. The one remnant of his living days, a connection that lasted beyond death. Even if it's strictly platonic it's a bond that runs deep. I really don't think Alastor would betray Mimzy on a whim. And yet, when she brings danger to the hotel's front door and he takes care of it yet again, he puts his foot down and sets a boundary. And Mimzy calls him out on the fact that he doesn't give a shit about the hotel or its mission. She knows him well enough that she would be correct. But he still stands up to her. Think about that for a second, Alastor stood up to his oldest companion in a moment where Charlie was not around and it couldn't be explained away as an act for her benefit. Vaggie couldn't even stand up to the guy who made her in front of a heavily monitored court where both of them would be under scrutiny. Yes, she said she wouldn't bash the hotel and that she believed in it; but when push came to shove talk was cheap and she did nothing to help her partner's case.

In the fallout of the big reveal; who's the one that goes to check on Charlie? Was it for selfish reasons? Sure, but even if your partner is mad at you, the fact that an entire army of angels is now gunning for you takes priority over the fragile state of your relationship. He manages to anger her into getting out of bed. He gives her answers, he takes her somewhere to get manpower. When vaggie realizes that Charlie and Alastor are making a deal, what is the first thing out of her mouth? She speaks to Charlie instead of being pissed at the guy she already doesn't trust. I'm sorry but if my partner was making a deal with a known bad actor my suspicion is going to what he could have done to make person agree to something, not turning to my partner to... I don't even know what Vaggie's angle was going to be there. Was she going to scold Charlie for making a deal in dire circumstances?

Alastor by contrast chats her up to Rosie, puts his faith in her convincing every cannibal in the town to join her cause, and always seems to bolster her confidence even he doesn't really believe it. Idk, it just feels emotionally Charlie and Alastor have something going that really makes Vaggie feel like a third wheel in her own damn relationship. Vaggie x therapy and being her own person new otp

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

I fear I have developed a Malevolent hyperfixation alongside my TMA one…