#just realized these snippets are mostly long ones

[tibby-art]

i am straight up on my hands and knees BEGGING for more hitman au

crazy that you mention that actually because i did write another snippet a little while ago.. here’s a doodle i did to accompany it + the writing under the cut

=+=

Grian gazed out the window of the bus, soaking in the quiet evening of the city. It had been some time since he was out in public like this, since he had felt like a normal citizen going about her daily buisness. It was nice to be outside the NHO headquarters for once, free to do what she pleased. Well, sort of.

Grian wasn’t exactly free. He was allowed some free time out when there was no training, lab visits, or missions. However, she was only allowed outside the NHO with a bodyguard. Someone who could both protect him from the overstimulation of the outside world, as well as protect others from her… if he were to ever lose control of his powers, or something.

Yes, riding the bus with a former-criminal-turned-professional-hitman certainly made the whole experience feel less normal for Grian.

“It’s nice to take public transportation once in a while,” Scar mused, stretching his arms over his head. “Us vexes don’t get to do that much anymore, when we can just fly around wherever we need to go.”

“That must be so much better, though,” Grian pointed out. “You can fly wherever you want, and you don’t even have to pay the bus fare.”

“Let me tell you, Grian, flying can be so tiring,” Scar huffed. “Sometimes I’m so tired by the time we show up to a hit, we need to take a breather on the roof for a few minutes. The NHO should just let us have a car for the long missions, for goodness’ sake!”

Grian did a quick check of his surroundings. The bus was pretty empty this time of day, but she got no sense that any of the passengers were paying attention to Scar so casually talking about being a hitman. A brief tap into watcher vision didn’t show any movement from the passengers behind her, either.

“Cub’s in much better shape than me,” Scar rambled on. “Did you know that man was a professional basketball player once? Or was it golf…? Actually, I think it was both.”

The NHO didn’t deem it too urgent to send both their prized hitmen on Grian-watching duty, so Cub had stayed behind at the headquarters. Last time Grian had seen Cub, he was showing off a ring of keys to Scar, saying how he was going to get a lot of ‘research’ done that night.

“What are those keys for?” Grian asked.

“Don’t know yet,” Cub shrugged. “That’s part of the fun”.

“So… those aren’t your keys?”

Cub and Scar just grinned at her.

“….This is our stop,” Grian said.

The pair exited the bus. The Hermit City library stood before them.

“Library, huh?” Scar asked. “Do you have some overdue books from before you became a watcher or something?”

“Not so loud,” Grian scolded, glancing around a mostly empty city street. “But, no. Speaking of… that, I wanted to see if there were any books I could find on the subject.”

Scar raised an eyebrow. “Do you think a public library would have better information than what we have at the NHO?”

Grian shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

The library was pretty empty at this time of day. In fact, they probably closed in an hour or so. Grian had deliberately chosen a time of day where less people would be around, so that the trip was less overwhelming on his new senses. Scar had complained that he wasn’t a morning person, so they settled on the evening instead. Grian secretly was also glad she could sleep in a little.

“Geez, when’s the last time I’ve been in one of these?” Scar muttered, glancing at the countless shelves of books as they walked past.

“What, are you allergic to reading?” Grian teased.

“Well, I am dyslexic, so… sort of?”

Grian realized that for a trip to the library to do some research, she probably should have gotten Cub to come. The man literally has two science degrees, after all.

The two made their way to the front desk, where the librarian on duty appeared to be preoccupied… knitting a hand puppet of some kind?

“Well howdy there!” The librarian looked up from his work cheerfully. He had long, brown hair that was dyed neon green at the tips, matching perfectly with her pointed green glasses. “What can I help y’all with?”

“Uh, yes, um.” Grian tapped his fingers on the desk. “We were wondering if you had any books on Watchers, and where they might be?”

“Watchers, huh…” The librarian furrowed their brow. “Now that’s an obscure topic.” He swiveled his chair towards his computer to investigate further. Grian began to grow anxious with how obvious he felt they were being.

“I know, right?” Scar sighed, leaning on the desk casually. “It’s for some lame group project that’s like, a fourth of our final grade in the class.”

“Yikes! That sounds rough,” The librarian remarked as she typed on the computer. Grian tapped into his sixth sense and didn’t pick up on any feelings of suspicion from the librarian. Maybe bringing Scar was a good idea.

“Okay, well, most of these books that are coming up seem to be more on the… fantasy side,” The librarian explained after a moment of scrolling. “I know those guys are mythological beings, but you said you’re doing a research project, so I’m guessing you want something more factual…”

“Yeah, anything with information about where they came from, what they do, stuff like that.” Grian nodded. “Y’know, like if they were real.”

“Oh! Here’s something promising.” The librarian turned the monitor so that Grian and Scar could see. “This book right here seems to be a study of the tales of Watchers throughout history. Although… it looks like our only copy is checked out at the moment.”

“Really?” Grian asked. “By who?”

The librarian blinked. “Hm… y’know, I’m actually not sure if I’m supposed to like, give that information to people? Like, legally?”

“There’s another person in our group project, so we just want to know if they beat us to checking out this book,” Scar lied. “Communication in group projects, am I right?”

“Pff, yeah, that makes sense,” The librarian turned the computer back to face him. “It looks like this book is currently being borrowed by a Martyn. With a y! How fancy.”

“Ah, Martyn with a y, of course!” Scar exclaimed. “Well, now we know that Martyn has the book, right Grian?”

“Yup,” Grian agreed, mind racing.

“Hey, actually…” The librarian scrolled down on the computer some more. “You guys sure got the right person for this project. It looks like this Martyn fella has been checking this book out for a few months now?”

Grian’s eyes widened.

“Ohh, that Martyn,” Scar laughed. “Always getting the head start on things! Uh, did we need anything else, Grian?”

“Um…” Grian needed to think fast. Whoever this Martyn person was, he’s been checking the same book on Watchers out for months. Surely he has to know something about them. Grian had to speak to him. But how on earth were they going to find this person?

Grian focused on the back of the librarian’s computer monitor. For a brief moment, in her mind’s eye, he could see the content of computer screen, from the librarian’s eyes. There on the screen was a full name: Martyn Littlewood.

“Nope, that’s all,” Grian replied, blinking rapidly as he returned to his own vision.

“Great. Well, you two have a good one!” The librarian said cheerfully, and returned to their knitting.

Grian and Scar briskly made their way outside.

“Wow. So who’s this Martyn guy? I didn’t think anyone else cared about Watchers that much,” Scar began, turning to Grian. “Oh uh, Grian, you’ve got something there…” Scar pointed to his own nose, looking worried all of a sudden.

“Huh?” Grian wiped his nose on his sleeve instinctively, expecting snot. However, when he glanced at his arm he saw red.

“Ah.” At least her sweater was already red.

“What did you do in there?” Scar asked, his green eyes intense with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“I was able to get a better look at that computer, and see the guy’s last name,” Grian explained. “Martyn Littlewood. Whoever he is, he might have a ton of information about Watchers. I’ve got to find him and have a word with him.”

“Grian, you’re amazing!” Scar exclaimed, impressed. “Well, finding someone in this city should be easy enough for a Watcher.”

“Shush,” Grian glanced around the empty bus stop. “Or we could try, y’know, looking the name up online first…” Grian quickly pulled out her phone. “Ah. Found him.”

“What? You’re kidding.”

“Oh my god, Scar.”

“What?”

“Scar.” Grian held the phone out. “Martyn Littlewood is…”

“A youtuber?” Scar’s jaw dropped as he scrolled through the list of videos. “And he makes videos talking about-“

“Watchers.”

Scar stared at Grian, dumbfounded.

“Scar, I think we just found the world’s biggest, and perhaps only, Watcher fanatic,” Grian stated in disbelief. “And he lives right here in Hermit City.”

[yinyuedijun]

phainon wip snippet that i may or may not delete

posting this at @nazberry-icecream's request. I will be real with you guys I drafted this while drunk/high last night and I'm not sure what to do with it because it's. good in some places but it's also incredibly bad in others and the canon accuracy is questionable. I'm not sure if it's salvageable SLKDFJLJSDf

canon context: bath tub is from this event

divider credit: @/cafekitsune

Phainon realizes that he’s in love with you at age nineteen, on the day he catches you running through Marmoreal Palace in nothing but a towel and pair of wet slippers. You're waving at him, calling his name, your skin still damp with bathwater and a sunlit smile stretched across your face. For a minute, he thinks he’s hallucinating—dreaming, probably, though usually his dreams about you wearing next to nothing aren’t nearly so ridiculous—but the way you grip him by the shoulders feels too real to be a fantasy.

The way you wheeze and cough at him, too.

“I’ve found you a birthday present,” you say, and he can tell from your voice that you’re dead serious.

“Oh,” he replies. He can't think of anything else to say when confronted with the image of you panting and holding onto him in nothing but a towel.

“I need to give it to you now,” you tell him.

He blinks. Then laughs. “Now?”

“Now.”

“You don’t want to put on clothes first?”

“I don’t need to have clothes on to give this to you.”

Alright. Phainon must be dreaming. There is no way in his real, actual life that you’d ever give him a present while intentionally this close to being naked. But he plays along with his incredibly shameful dream and laughs, “Sure.”

You’re excited to show him whatever you’ve found. Coming up with a birthday present for him is your worst nightmare, and one you struggle with every year. It makes me feel like a bad friend, you always moan. But I can’t ever think of anything good. You never want anything.

Phainon gives you suggestions each year, rattling them off in a list that never satisfies you. I could always use a new sword, he’d said, and you’d replied, I’m not going to get you something for your work. Then he tried, New armor could be nice, and you’d whined and replied, That’s what Aglaea wanted for you—she hates your sense of style, you know. As a last resort, he’d said, It would be nice to go to that new Aurelian restaurant together, and this time you’d scowled: That’s where I wanted to go! You don't even like Aurelian cuisine! And you always pay the bill when I’m not looking whenever we go out to eat—how am I supposed to let you pay for your own birthday meal!

Pretty easily, he’d replied cheerfully. All you have to do is sit there while I go pay.

You’d groaned.

Your birthday is about you! What do you want?! What would you like?!

“I like seeing you happy,” he always answers, smiling brightly—because it always gets you flustered, and he rather likes that too.

You think he's being insincere. You accuse him of being a terrible flirt, which he finds unfair, because he’s not flirting—he really does just like seeing you happy. He likes seeing you glow, kicking your feet and grinning in a way he’d have never been able to imagine back in the refugee camp. He was worried, for a long time, that you’d always be as miserable as the way you were back then. That you’d never want to eat. That you’d never want to talk. That you’d starve to death in silence, forever caught in the grip of the Flame Reaver—torn apart like the rest of Aedes Elysiae.

That Phainon would fail to protect you, the way he’d failed everyone else back home.

But you’d healed, eventually. Mostly. Sometimes Phainon catches you in moments of melancholy, a distance between you that he can’t figure out how to traverse. Catches you thinking about home, and your family, and all the other things you miss. He’ll give them back to you one day—you’ll see them all again when he ushers in the Era Nova, and he’ll be able to see you smile like never before—but it’ll be a long time until then. It’ll be a long time before he can deliver this wish of yours.

He guesses that it’s enough seeing you like this for now, though: beaming as you drag him through the palace, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the marble underneath you. You lead him into the bath house, and he’s so endeared that he plays along without even questioning it. More than happy to humour whatever’s got you bouncing with so much excitement.

He also plays along because he really wants to see the rest of this dream. He has high expectations for its course: you’re holding his hand, dragging him into a bath, wearing nothing but a flimsy little towel. It's clear where this is going.

But then it doesn’t go there.

You let go of Phainon’s hand, and you don’t drag him into the water, and you keep your towel on. Instead, you lead Phainon to a very old, very plain tub—a lacklustre sight in comparison to you—and gesture at it.

“Here,” you say smugly.

He stares. “You’re giving me a used bathtub?”

“I’m giving you a treasure. This old thing is made out of Sacred Tree Wood—can you believe it? I thought the attendant was full of it when she told me, but I inspected it and I’m pretty sure it’s the genuine article.”

“Huh,” Phainon says, still too distracted by the sight of you to really pay attention to any bathtub, sacred or not. You mistake this for fascination.

“Take a look for yourself,” you insist. “It’s most obvious if you look at the detailing inside the tub—here, let me show you—”

You climb into the tub, and your towel stays on, and you really do just show him all the characteristics of the wood hinting at its origins. Phainon can’t fathom it. He’s probably been spending too much time appraising antiques with Theodoros, and now his hobby’s invaded his favourite dreams. He needs to get another pastime.

He plays along anyway: “Sure,” he says, crouching down to peer at its make, his lips curled into a smile. “I'll take a look.”

Twenty minutes later, his eyes have gone wide and his jaw has gone slack. He lifts the bathtub with his bare hands and carries it out of the bath house, making a beeline to Theodoros’ shop—with you and a frazzled bath attendant in tow. You’re practically bouncing on your heels as Phainon receives his certificate of authenticity—and then you balk when he asks Theodoros how much he’ll get when he sells it.

You give him a betrayed look. “Are you really going to re-sell my gift?! I thought I'd finally found something you'd like!”

“I did like it,” he says. “And I’m going to sell it. I enjoy finding and appraising treasures, but I never really hang onto them. There are always better places for them to go.”

You give him a sullen look. “So you didn't like my gift.”

“No,” he says gently. “I loved it. This was a lot of fun, but it’d be a waste for me to actually keep a relic like this. It belongs in a place like Theodoros’ collection, where everyone can see it.”

You frown, clearly dissatisfied. “Then what kind of gift would you keep?”

Phainon shrugs. “There’s nothing I really need,” he answers truthfully, and the noise you make is so comical in its frustration that he realises instantly that this isn’t a dream. Despite the remarkable ability of his subconscious to recreate your body down to the most minute details (Phainon pays a great deal of attention to it in his waking hours, after all), it’s not that great at capturing your funnier idiosyncrasies. That scowl of yours—along with your long-time obsession with finding him the perfect birthday gift—can only be the genuine article.

He understands now that all of this is real. And because it is real, so too must be his desire to kiss you.

Phainon wants to grab you by the shoulders and kiss you in the middle of Marmoreal Market in his real, actual life; and he also wants to take you to the theatre and give you gifts and court you properly in his real, actual life; and he also wants to take you home and watch his parents fawn over you in his real, actual life. Because they’d have adored you. They’d have been excited about you. They’d have invited you over for suncakes and venison every night, and they’d have had you over for Oronyx prayers, and they’d have cried during his wedding with you. It was one of their biggest wishes for him to find someone nice and marry them properly, after all—and he can’t imagine anyone nicer than you.

They’d have loved you.

And they will love you some day, when he collects the last coreflame and delivers all of humanity into Era Nova. They’ll love you just like in all his dreams.

[nbraraeaves]

rule 34 --

(Hector Valentino Airnesto Condicionado x plus size non-binary reader, 18+)

summary: Reading some of Hector's work leads to you requesting he leaves the safety of the attic to come visit you in your bedroom.

warnings: reading grate-based erotica as emotional foreplay. fingerfucking, oral sex (nbi receiving and m receiving, respectively), penetrative sex, dacryphilia, blindfolded sex, body worship, biting/marking, mild restraints, both are switches to a degree, voice kink, use of a cock ring, edging if you squint, discussions of feelings and insecurity, reassurance.

hector notes: chubby hector supremacy. I find I write him as semi-agoraphobic with gomez addams aspirations; there is some acknowledgement of past voyeurism but reader is into it.

reader notes: reader is plus size, queer, and non-binary (ftn). affectionate pet names are mostly gender neutral. all mentions of skin/hair have been kept as neutral as possible, though suggestions are appreciated to make the experience more seamless. reader is also just as loquacious and just as much of a yearner, be advised.

general: anyone order [checks notes] 15.5k words of HVAC smut?

god, I need this man in a way that's troubling to multiple schools of social thought. the way he got me out of a fanfic rut should be studied in a lab.

anyway! here we go. no use of y/n or anything similar, as always. no betas, I'm just dead.

Seeking a respite from the relentless summer heat outside, you’d taken advantage of a now-rare quiet moment in your bedroom to catch up on some light reading.

It was funny, in a way, how suddenly that change had come about. You couldn’t begin to number how many afternoons you’d sat alone in your bedroom with a book, spending more time in imaginary worlds than in the real one when you could get away with it. This had simply been your usual routine for about as long as you had lived here. 

With the advent of the Dateviators, however, an entire social life had emerged in the halls you’d thought you haunted alone. Over the last few weeks, it was increasingly uncommon for you to walk into any room without finding someone there hoping for a companionable chat, or with some sort of request now that they were able to communicate with you directly.

As much as you appreciated your new friends — and your new lovers in particular, a development that still gave you a giddy rush — there was still a longing, every now and then, for your familiar state of solitude: curled up on your bed with the sun streaming in through your window to illuminate your pages. Especially now, in what you considered your “fancy” pajamas: a thin-strapped top and shorts, both in a dark silk (the nicest set you owned, a holiday gift from years back), with clean sheets, and a comfortable chill about the room. Had this been any other day before the Dateviators, you would’ve been in a tiny paradise all your own.

…However. The longer you pored over this particular book, the less appealing your solitude was beginning to seem after all.

The book your fingers curled around now was honestly impressively hand-bound, the pages remarkably well typeset for being… independently produced, in a way.

You’d found Grate Expectations upstairs in the attic, off to the side of Hector’s HVAC shell. It looked so official that you’d mistaken in for one of the saucier books from your early twenties in Lady Memoria’s boxes, until you saw your beloved’s name on the cover. Upon realizing what it was, you’d recalled the time he’d read you just a snippet when you’d half-jokingly requested it, and left you out of breath on unsteady knees when he’d finished. It shouldn’t be a real surprise, you reasoned, that you’d ended up smuggling it out of the attic, deeply curious to see just where the rest of the book went from where he’d left off.

And now, at every small sound in the hall or the adjacent rooms, you found yourself looking up with a guilty start, pulling the book closer to your chest so no one would catch a glimpse of just what was on the page. It’s not that you were ashamed to be reading it — there was nothing wrong with romance or erotica, and you still enjoyed both a great deal, obviously.

It just felt… different. This was Hector’s, and he’d written it about you. About the pair of you, together. It was private. Intimate.

It was that same sense of privacy that was the cause of your current guilt; he hadn’t told you that you could take it, or that you could read beyond what he’d shared. Even though it was about you, he had likely written it just for himself. To read it without his knowledge felt like a betrayal of his trust.

But even the guilt was outweighed by the way the prose had you pushing your thighs together without realizing, swallowing thickly, your hips squirming slightly against your mattress as you read the very detailed, very vivid fantasies of just what he’d longed to do with you — and to you. Over and over, with a passion that threatened to scald your fingertips at the edge of the pages.

At one point, you simply had to close the book over your thumb, your thighs pressed tight against each other and your face hot to the touch. The embers of curiosity had turned to a gnawing heat in the deepest part of you, your pulse racing even though you were lying perfectly still.

Staring at your ceiling, you bit your lip and calculated your options. Handle this yourself, and save your beloved any potential embarrassment from your snooping…

Or come clean, with all that might follow.

You gazed at the grate on the wall across from you, chewing your lip slightly as you did so. It was honestly kind of surprising he hadn’t already been there to notice the heat on your face, the way your breathing was already shallower than usual.

After a moment, you cleared your throat and willed your voice to sound light, casual. “Hey, Hector?”

There was the briefest pause, followed by a sound of motion in the ducts above you. A moment later, a familiar pair of adroit hands emerged from the grate, and a flash of clever, kind eyes in the darkness. 

“Hello, my love.” Hector’s voice was sweet, as though somehow still surprised you’d call on him. “Enjoying your day? I’ve heard it’s quite harsh outside. I’ve been minding the temperature in here accordingly; I know you you prefer things on the cool side.” The little note of pride in his voice was downright precious; it was as though your new relationship had made him even more committed to keeping you comfortable at all times.

You barely had time to open your mouth when you saw the dark eyes narrow, and you could picture his brow furrowing above them. You couldn’t help a bit of a smile — he was nothing if not attentive.

“Are you alright?” His voice sounded concerned. His hands moved, wrapping around the vent slats as if to support him leaning closer to inspect you.

“Why do you ask, babe?” You raised an eyebrow as you sat up to face him, hoping your smile didn’t give away your guilt. Your hand was holding the book face down on your mattress, hoping his attentiveness would be on your face for now.

“I — well.” Hector’s eyes glanced askance as he searched for the words. “You look lovely, don’t get me wrong — you could never not look glorious to me, just as you are. It’s only…” he paused. “You look… piqued, my sweet. A little more flush than usual. Is it still hot in here?” His frown was almost audible, and it was adorable. “I could’ve sworn I had this room cooler than the others…”

“I’m fine, Hector,” you reassured him. You scooted closer to the vent on your mattress, hoping he could see your smile was genuine. “The room has been perfect, as usual. Thank you.”

Hector made a concerned noise, and you got the feeling he didn’t want to contradict you outright. “You just look… warm,” he said, a hand reappearing to gesture towards you. “Your hair on your neck, and your skin… are you feeling alright?” His eyes searched your face. “If you’re feverish, I could get Farya—”

“I’m okay, Hector.” You moved so you were sitting on the end of your bed now, peering up into the vent. “I promise you, I’d tell you if I wasn’t. Believe me?”

The grate made a noise as Hector leaned against it again, looking you over more thoroughly… before he seemed satisfied, if not entirely convinced. “I do. But is there still something I can do for you, darling? You did call me,” he reminded you.

“So I did.” You looked down for a second at the back cover of the book, debating if you were really going through with this, then back up at the grate. “Would you mind… coming in here, for a sec? If you’re not busy,” you added quickly.

“I’m never too busy for you, love,” he said, and you recognized the more fervent fire in his eyes that came in his particularly inspired moments. “That’d be like being too busy to breathe. But…” He paused, again somewhat uncertain. “I am… already in here, am I not?” He gestured loosely to your bedroom, his voice a tinge worried like you’d somehow forgotten where you were.

“No, I meant, like… physically, in here.” When there was still a hesitant silence, you nodded towards the doorway. “Like, all of you. In here. With me.”

“…As in, leave the attic?” Hector said, clearly fighting to keep his voice from going up an octave.

You nodded, widening your eyes to look as innocuous as possible. “I’m just right down the hall — there’s only the closet between us, right?”

“And the entirety of The Breaker Box,” Hector pointed out. His hands were antsy, fingers fidgeting with each other. “Are you sure I can’t just… talk to you here? As we already are? Or you could come to me,” he suggested, voice brightening. 

It was your turn to hesitate — despite the breakthrough the two of you had made together, Hector still didn’t like running the risk of being perceived if he didn’t have to be. While he seemed to even enjoy you seeing him, now, other people seeing him was iffy at best. You imagined the proximity to one of the flashier clubs in the house didn’t help, especially with Volt and Eddie around. He knew you were seeing them just as he knew about all your other relationships, and while he wasn’t given to jealousy (at least, not in front of you), you had to imagine that if being in Volt’s gaze still gave you a tingling feeling in your stomach, then it would send Hector running for the rafters.

“I was actually hoping…” You chose your words carefully, knowing how ‘hope’ would be a loaded one for him. “To spend some time with you… alone.” You gestured loosely to your empty bedroom. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate with the weather and all,” you said, doing your best to sound innocent. “But I was just thinking, if you had a few spare moments… maybe I could impose and steal you away? While things are quiet?”

“You could never impose,” Hector said quickly. “Nothing you could ask of me could be an imposition, love, I assure you. My time is yours, entirely.” But his hands were still moving, fingers lacing and twisting anxiously even as he said it.

You watched his hands for a long moment, your teeth grazing your lip. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all. “…I wouldn’t want to  ask anything that would make you uncomfortable,” you said after a moment. “If you’d rather not, it’s okay. I can always come by yours another time—?”

“No!” Hector said it so immediately, it took you both by surprise. “No, really, it’s not… it’s not an issue,” he went on, and though you couldn’t see him, you could picture the pained smile he was forcing. “Not at all. In fact, I’d love to visit you. I was just thinking about… a change of scenery,” he ended flatly, and it was so unconvincing you had to try not to giggle.

“Just, uh.” His eyes roved around the vent, clearly trying to figure this out. “Give me a few minutes, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” you said quickly. “And really, Hector, if it’s not something you want to do—”

“Oh no, I want to!” Hector cut you off, his voice climbing again as he fought to sound light and carefree. “Very much! Honestly, I should’ve done it ages ago! I’ll just... be right there!”

“Take your time, babe,” you called after his retreating hands.

“I’ll see you soon!” Hector called back, and while you could hear him trying to sound eager, you could also hear the little anxious groan he let slip as he got further away from the opening of the vent.

You’d honestly lost track of time, having returned to the book to keep yourself occupied while you waited. It hadn’t taken long before you were sprawled on your stomach, devouring page after page, trying to ignore the way your hips were subtly pushing against your mattress when you read a turn of phrase you found particularly… stirring.

It was the shuffle of some sort of fabric that made you look up, accompanied by a low, nervous humming, and someone muttering quickly under their breath. The sounds came closer and closer to your room, causing you to sit fully upright, though your finger still marked your place. “Hello?”

A figure covered in blue tarp rounded the corner into your room, which you only recognized from the eyes peeking out beneath a makeshift hood. “Can I close the door?” It spoke in a rush, sounding out of breath.

You blinked, trying to understand what you were seeing. “Hector?”

“Please?” he wheedled just slightly, his voice up an octave. “If- if you don’t mind, that is?” he added, remembering himself.

It took you a second to process what he was asking. “Yeah, of course.” You nodded, waving a hand. “Go ahead, if that makes you more comfortable.”

Hector quickly closed out the rest of the house, only letting the tarp slide backwards from his head when the two of you were alone in the room. He let out a sigh of relief as his head fell back against the wood with a ‘thud’, smiling weakly as he caught his breath. “I made it.” His eyes met yours, sparkling with triumph. “I’m out of the attic.”

“You are!” You beamed, pushing off your bed to meet him where he stood. “That’s a big step for you, darling. Congratulations.”

His eyes only brightened as you approached, and when you kissed him hello, he more than eagerly reciprocated. The tarp rustled as he let go of it, and it fell off his shoulders like an odd cape. You meant to ask about it, but his arms encircled your waist, and you found yourself pressing your hands against the cabinet doors of his coat, sliding down until your fingers curled around the handles. With his mouth on yours and the passion of his writing fresh in your mind, you used them to tug him even closer, deepening your kiss.

Hector made a small noise of surprise, but clearly found this agreeable, one hand sliding up your back to squeeze gently at the nape of your neck — one of his favorite places on you, as it always made you shiver slightly when he did so. For a moment, you were caught up in how his form felt against yours, how he held you like you were something precious, until you both at last parted for air.

“…Hi,” you said at last, unable to help a shy grin.

Hector grinned himself, his arms still hugging you close. “Hello, my love.” He reached up to trace lightly at the strap of your top, his eyes gleaming. “I must say, I’ve always thought these were… something.” His eyes flicked back to yours. “I like them.”

“Well. Thank you.” You felt your skin heat, and you played cool by reaching up to rest your arms on his shoulders. “I… like yours too?” You glanced over at the blue tarp, trying for an encouraging smile. “It’s very avant garde.”

Hector laughed nervously, nudging the tarp closer to the door with his foot. “Ah. Yes. That. It’s…” He paused, clearly trying to think quickly. “A… cloak? Of sorts? Or at least, that’s what it’s inspired by? Not that anyone really wears those anymore, of course, but, uh…” The longer he talked, the more a blush spread across his face, and that familiar self-conscious look of his with it.

“Hey.” You kissed his cheek, distracting him. “If it got you here to me, I’m all for it. You do whatever helps, angel.”

Hector seemed to catch his breath, his expression unmistakably relieved. “I appreciate your understanding, as always.” He kissed your cheek in turn, never one to let affection go unreciprocated. He then wandered lower, his lips grazing your neck. “Now, before I get too ahead of myself… did you have something in mind for this visit, amor?”

Ah, right. This part.

“…Yes, actually.” You fidgeted with a lock of his hair, trying to decide on your approach. Would he be angry? He’d shared it with you before, but he’d never outright said you could read all of it…

Hector’s lips stilled just under your chin, his eyes meeting yours. “…Yes?” He prompted, a note of concern creeping in.

You bit your lip, taking a steadying breath before you spoke. “I… owe you a bit of an apology.”

Hector stood back up to his full height, searching your face. “I’m sure you don’t,” he said, laughing a bit uneasily. “Whatever for?”

You kept biting your lip, worrying it between your teeth. “Well. It’s... a little awkward —”

“Please tell me you haven’t changed your mind,” he cut you off, his voice abruptly strained.

You paused, looking up to see his suddenly wracked expression. “I - What?”

“Me. Being here. Out of the - the vent.” Hector’s eyes darted to said vent and back to you. 

“Oh! No, Hector.” You shook your head, your hand falling from his hair to stroke his cheek. “No, love, I really wanted to see you” Your brow furrowed. “Why would I change my mind?”

He gave you a half-smile, and while he reached up so his hand covered yours, he still couldn’t quite meet your eyes. “I just thought… With the light and all, well.” He gave a small shrug. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Hector.” You moved your other hand to cup his face in both of yours, forcing him to look at you. “Nothing could be further from the truth. As a matter of fact, I asked you here because I wanted…” You paused, your eyes slipping to the floor as you tried to figure out just how to say ‘you to rail me stupid like in the multi-chapter erotica you wrote about us’ in a manner befitting the artist in front of you. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t been intimate-ish, before now. Hector was just as gifted with his hands as he was with his words, and he loved the sounds you made, now that he could give you his full attention without the grate between you. But he’d been hesitant to go much further than that, still seemingly too anxious to let you reciprocate his physical affection.

Was this too much? Were you basically ambushing the guy because you wanted to fuck him? Were you finally going to out-weird him, like you always knew you eventually would?

“What is it, my love?” Hector tilted his head to catch your gaze again and to lean his face against your palm. “Anything I can do for you, I will, you know that.” His fingers intertwined with yours. “You need only ask. There’s no need to apologize for that — nothing would please me more.”

His face was so sweet, so earnest and open, that you felt a twinge of guilt amidst the heat pooling in your gut.

“…That’s a little bit what I’m concerned about,” you mumbled. You held up a finger as his brow knit together, confused, and walked over to where the book still lay on your blankets. You picked it up, taking a breath, and when you turned to face him, you were holding it up for him to see the cover.

Hector frowned for the few seconds it took him to recognize the cover, at which his eyes widened — with surprise or concern, you couldn’t quite tell.

“So.” You shifted slightly where you stood. “I kind of… borrowed this, without your permission. And I’ve been, well, reading. Also without your permission.” Your tongue wet your lips. “Hence, I owe you an apology.”

“…Oh.” Hector’s voice was faint, and you could see him desperately trying to keep his anxiety in check and failing. “I — no need to apologize, amor, really. I did share it with you before, after all.” He attempted a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were trying to read your face as desperately as you were trying to read his.

“You did,” you acknowledged. “But I still should’ve asked. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and that wasn’t fair of me.” You waited for a moment, before shifting so you were now hugging the book against your chest. “But I’ve been… really quite enthralled.”

Hector perked up immediately, though his eyes were still cautious. “‘Enthralled’?” he repeated.

You nodded. “I started it this morning, and I just… haven’t been able to put it down.” You turned it slightly to reveal the dozens of pages you’d pored through already. 

“Oh,” Hector repeated, even softer than before. He looked from the pages, to your eyes, all too briefly to your lips and back up again. “I’m glad to hear, my love.” A blush was settling over his cheeks and moving up towards his ears. “You have always been my most… inspiring muse.” His tongue darted out over his own lips. “I often find myself unable to write of anything else.”

You pressed the book tighter against your chest subconsciously, and his eyes dropped immediately, definitely noticing. “I’m honored.” You found yourself whispering, though you were the only ones in the room. “To occupy the mind of such a talented writer… I can’t even begin to put into words how flattered I am, Hector.” You couldn’t help a smile. 

Hector’s eyes were saucers, for once struck silent.

Your eyes dropped again, the weight of what you were about to ask suddenly sinking in. “I just… I can’t help but worry, a little,” you spoke slowly, choosing your words. “Because on the page, I’m everything you want, and I don’t know if I can even begin to measure up in the flesh. I desperately want to try, but I don’t… I don’t want to rush you,” you explained. “Or ask anything of you before you’re ready or comfortable, I want to respect your boundaries. But I also just want… well. You.” You looked up at last, hoping that made sense.

Hector’s pupils were blown black, and it took you a second to fully register his expression —

Before you realized it was the starkest look of outright hunger you’d ever seen.

On anyone else, it would’ve tinged the fire at your center with fear. But now, on him? You wondered if you’d burn before he even put his hands on you.

“You could never,” he whispered. “Not be what I want. I want you exactly as you are, as you’ll have me, always.”

He closed the distance between the two of you, his lips mere inches from yours. His eyes jumped from those to meet your gaze and back again, clearly torn. You felt his hands brush yours — warmer than usual, and faintly shaking — before he swallowed hard.

“If we’re to- to proceed,” Hector said, forcing a tremor from his voice. “I’d ask three things of you, my love.”

“Name them,” you said instantly, and for a moment, his hunger gave way to something much softer at your willingness.

Hector took another breath, as though he was having trouble keeping up. “First,” he said, and his hand reached to move your hair away from your cheek. “Is that you’ll put your total and complete trust in me.”

You caught his hand in your own, turning to press an open-mouthed kiss into his calloused palm. “You have that already,” you said quietly, your lips not totally removed from his skin as you did so. “You know that, Hector.”

Hector’s tongue darted over his lower lip, and he stepped between your feet so there was barely room to whisper between the two of you. “I’m asking,” he breathed. “That you give me control, mi vida.” His thumb traced your mouth. “Just for a little while, just... just so I can take care of you. Like you deserve. Like I know I can, with precision.”

His eyes were so deadly serious, so fathomless, that for the span of a heartbeat you kind of forgot to breathe.

Instead, when your brain took over and nudged you abruptly, you responded by taking Hector’s thumb into the heat of your mouth and nodding.

Hector made a sound somewhere on the cusp of a groan and a gasp, and as your tongue laved at the rough whorl of his fingerprint, his other hand cupped the other side of your jaw.

“The second,”  he went on, his voice softer now. “Is that you’ll let me blindfold you.”

You paused in your attention to his hand, your tongue actually freezing in place on his skin for a second as your brain shorted out once more.

Hector smiled, but his brow wrinkled just enough to betray his concern. “Which is why I required your complete trust, first and foremost. Remember?”

When you pulled your mouth off his digit, a delicate string of saliva connected you still to his skin. You went to wipe it away, feeling heat return to your face in embarrassment, but Hector was faster, pulling it back from your mouth and onto his thumb.

You blinked, for a second taken by just how quickly he moved, before you met his gaze again. “…I do actually want to see you, at some point,” you said quietly. You reached up, your hand stroking his hair lovingly. “You’re the major draw for me here, after all.”

Hector let out a short, abrupt laugh that was somehow startled and amused all at once.

“It’s true,” you protested, your hand coming up to cup his face. “Even if you refuse to believe it, despite my many, many declarations to the contrary.”

Hector leaned his face into your palm and closed his eyes like he was resting against a sun-warmed window pane. “I believe you, my love,” he murmured. His eyes opened, and his familiar sweet-but-slightly frazzled expression returned. “Even if it takes the rest of me a while to… agree.”

You smiled back. “I’ll take that, for now.” You stroked your fingers along the soft line of his jaw. “…Right. Blindfold, yes, but you have to let me take it off when it’s my turn.”

It was Hector’s turn to pause, his eyes giving him away by going slightly wide. “Your- your turn?”

You stepped into Hector’s space as he had into yours, standing up slightly on your toes to put your mouth a tantalizing space away from his. “I’ll surrender my control and my sight,” you said, your eyes moving slowly from his eyes to his lips. “But at some point, I’d want reciprocation.” You tilted your head to look at him while his jaw dropped ever so slightly. “Is that something you’d be okay with?”

Hector took a sharp, shallow breath, his mouth soundlessly trying to form words before at last he simply closed it and nodded eagerly. As if to emphasize this, he licked his thumb where you’d sucked it, cleaning your saliva from his skin and making a show of swallowing.

You turned back to your nightstand, grabbing a black silk sleep mask from where it rested on the surface, and held it out for him to inspect. “Acceptable?”

Hector tilted his head, then took it gently from you to hold it up to the light and rub the fabric between his fingers, before he nodded at last. 

“And the third thing?” you asked as you took it back, remembering.

Hector shook his head once. “Blindfold first. The two are connected.”

You prevaricated for an instant, fiddling with the sleek fabric in your fingers. This was going to be your first time with him, fully, and not knowing the third condition first only heightened the crackling nervousness that came with this milestone.

But the way he looked at you with a gentle, hopeful smile, his eyes bright as he looked you over with an obvious tenderness… you found what little tension there was easing from between your shoulders. This was Hector, after all. He was downright devoted to you. The idea of causing you any sort of discomfort had been sacrilege to him on multiple occasions.

“So…” You paused, looking down at your pajamas. You were grateful you’d at least picked a nicer pair for laying around than your usual worn out t-shirt and underwear. “Before I put this on, should I—”

“I’ll be handling that,” Hector interrupted. Though his voice didn’t change, he stated it more than said it, and the unexpected confidence was, honestly, quite hot.

“Oh, well. Be my guest.” You winked, trying to match him, but the way he blushed hard as the heat rushed back to your face reminded you that you were both still… yourselves, at the heart of it all.

You bit your lower lip for a moment more, the jitters of anticipation clashing with the smooth heat at the pit of your stomach. But you saw Hector’s eyes drop immediately to your mouth, the hunger back in his gaze, and the jolt it sent through you made you at last settle the dark silk over your eyes.

In the ensuing black, it was hard not to immediately become more aware of every other sensation: how the fabric of your clothes settled against your now hyper-sensitive skin, the feeling of the floor pressed up into the soles of your bare feet, the utter silence that settled over the room —

The way the temperature of the room seemed to climb two or three degrees almost immediately.

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. One of the fun parts of having your HVAC as your boyfriend was the fact that the very air often gave away what he was really thinking.

Hector had been so still, so quiet, you’d been wondering if this was an opening move on his part. But then you heard the susurrus of fabric moving from over in his direction, the soft thuds of him shedding what you were betting were his sandals. After another moment, you heard cautious footsteps on your floorboards, until there was an undeniable presence directly behind you.

Something light ghosted across your hair, stroking it lovingly, before oh-so-carefully shifting it to expose the side of your neck as much as possible. You couldn’t help the pleasurable shiver that ran down your spine, and you tilted your head to expose your neck even further, part of you worried Hector’s insecurity would’ve read the reflex in bad faith.

A heat radiated close to your back, and another came to rest delicately against the skin of your breastbone. Hector’s hand, broad and impossibly warm, seemed to take up the entirety of your sternum -- palm first, heavy and sure, before his fingers stretched across your skin like they wanted to take up as much space as possible. A longing sigh brushed your shoulder, the unexpected warmth causing your head to turn as though to look --

He made a soft noise of denial, his other hand coming up to guide your jaw with the barest pressure of his fingertips so you faced forward again.

“The third condition,” Hector rasped, his mouth right next to your ear. “Is that you indulge me, and I might speak as I used to.” 

You smiled, immediately recognizing what the two of you had jokingly referred to as “Vent Voice” in the time his attic face reveal.“Like when you first started courting me, huh?” you teased, knowing that Hector was actually a sucker for the concept. The man was nothing if not a romantic. 

“The very same,” Hector said, and you could hear the smile of his own underneath the words. His hand pushed you gently back a step, and when you were met by a solid warmth against your shoulders, your brain stuttered to realize he’d taken off his insulating coat. His bare chest was against your skin, and you could feel the coarse hair that covered it, along with the soft stomach now pressing into your lower back. The heat at your center threatened to overwhelm you, so strong was your desire to turn and slide your hands down his torso, to explore what he'd never shown you. 

He pressed against you, his breath ghosting over the back of your neck before he lowered his lips to your exposed skin.

Your breath hitched, and your head fell backwards, until you were resting it against what you realized was his shoulder. You made a sound of want through your bitten lip as Hector kissed your own shoulder around the strap of your pajama top, then moved towards the juncture of your neck. 

“I l-like your real voice, though,” you managed, your hands clenching and unclenching in thin air as he kissed up the column of your throat. “It’s so quintessentially you. And I love you.”

Hector hummed softly against your skin before licking a small expanse up the side of your neck, his scalding tongue causing you to gasp before you could catch yourself. “I love you too,” he said simply, a slight note of smugness creeping in. "And I also adore the face you make when I play to your voice kink." He kitten-licked the shell of your ear. "So if I'm going to satisfy you, I'm going to do it completely." 

And before you could disagree, his splayed fingers were pushing the thin strap off your shoulder entirely.

The thin top fell away with no resistance, Hector tugging lightly so the fabric slid past your hips and landed on the floor. You were now also topless, and just as you moved reflexively to cover your chest, Hector’s free arm gently bumped yours away.

“No, no,” he murmured. “I want a good look at you, my beauty. I’ve only been…” He pressed a kiss to your other bare shoulder now, his stubble rasping across your skin. “Aching for you like this, since I first set eyes on you. You must understand.”

So you curled your fingers into your palms, your thumbs rubbing a knuckle on each hand as you made yourself stand still.

It had been more than a small shock whenever the Dateviators revealed a not-small contingent of beings who found you desirable in your own skin. You were so used to being... well, yourself, that you had an admittedly difficult time seeing what they found attractive in you. Real beauties like Amir, Volt, and Betty left you feeling a bit lost with their kind words, their flirting. You couldn't help but feel underwhelming despite their lingering looks.

Hector's desire for you had been another kind of unexpected entirely; his devotion, his hunger from afar -- while you couldn't understand it directed at you, per se, you definitely were more familiar with this model on your end than anything else. The two of you spoke the same language of the heart. So if it pleased him to have you like this, you were more than happy to let him take his time with you, white-knuckling through your own self-consciousness to let him soak you in.

You felt Hector’s hands settle on each of your shoulders before they traced down your full arms, then over your chest with a tender slowness. You felt his breath on the back of your neck catch and stutter as his hands lingered over your sides, before sliding down onto your hips with what could only be described as reverence.

“God,” he half-whispered, half groaned, and it sounded agonized. “God, you are so… unspeakably soft.” His fingers ran up and down your sides before settling on your hips again, where he couldn’t resist squeezing the plush flesh there. “This is heaven beyond my wildest imagination, my heart, you have no idea.”

You couldn't help a little helpless laughter as his touch ran over the ticklish parts of your stomach, and you flexed your back against his chest, leaning further into him. You lifted a hand to his jaw, and turned your head to kiss him there. "And when do I get to take you in, hm?" 

Hector's hands ghosted over the sides of your breasts, and then for a moment cupped their considerable weight in his hands with a soft moan. When his thumbs ghosted over your nipples, you shivered, biting back a whimper -- while the area normally wasn't your favorite, due to the dysphoria it sometimes inspired, his touch here was so careful, you found yourself able to relax into it. Even more so when he laid his arm across them to put a comforting pressure there, a warm echo of your compression tops. 

You hummed gratefully, leaning as best you could to kiss his soft bicep.

He returned it with a kiss to the side of your neck. "I have you," he said, his lips against your skin still. "I promise."

You couldn't help but smile, resting your head back against his shoulder again. "I know." You kissed his jaw again, one of your favorite parts of him in its softness. "I trust you."

The way his breath shuddered slightly against your neck at this was heart-wrenchingly adorable.

He angled his hand back to your breastbone to pull you more firmly back against him, and you could feel his heart hammering through his chest against your shoulder blade. His breath was bordering on ragged as one hand caressed your lush stomach while the other held you fast.

“You’re so warm” he moaned, and his hand slid lower, thick fingers brushing the waistband of your flimsy cotton shorts. “You’re like the sun on my fingertips, love, you’re celestial.”

Your arms came up to wrap around the one holding you to him, hugging him as best you could and leaning fully into him. “Hector, you’re gonna kill me with anticipation,” you mumbled, your skin screaming to be touched everywhere at once. “At least let me kiss you, or someth—”

Your words were lost amidst the blood rushing to your face as Hector hooked his thumb in the side of your shorts and yanked brusquely downwards, letting them also settle on the floor. You were all too aware you were now fully naked, pinned against him and fully at his mercy.

“Allow me this, please.” His lips were against your ear before he kissed your cheek, then lower down your neck again. “I swear to you, all I want to do is please you… let me at least worship at the altar I’ve admired for so long.”

His hand slid up from your chest to cover your throat, and his kiss to your shoulder became a sharp bite. Your inhale hissed through your teeth, your back arching against his grip.

“All I want is to make you come,” he said, his longing strangling his voice. His other hand slid down your stomach and towards your cunt, stopping short enough to make you squirm in search of any sort of contact. “And come, and come, until you’re a mess in my arms. To fulfill you so completely, you’re too wrecked to find the words to ask for more.” He angled your head to press a searing, messy kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Tell me I can, love, and I will.”

“Please.” If you were still in your right mind, you’d be embarrassed at how quickly you said it, or how you practically whined for it. “Please, Hector, I’ll beg if you want me to, I’ll—”

Two of Hector’s thick fingers slid into your slick folds, and you spasmed against him as they barely brushed your swollen clit.

“Fuck.” Hector’s teeth were gritted, and you felt his hips buck sharply against your ass. The thermostat belt buckle threatened to bruise your back, and you felt something achingly hard through the fabric of his pants, pressing into the soft squish of your flesh. You pushed back against it, and the hand over your throat tightened ever so slightly, as if to hold you still.

“You’re so wet.” Hector’s moan threatened to crack through his Vent Voice entirely, and his fingers traced your slit with an ease that made the heat in your face spread down to your chest. “Fuck, you’re already soaking wet, love, what—”

“What can I say?” You turned your head against his shoulder to face him as best you could. “Your work—” You choked for a moment as his fingers brushed your clit again, the sound desperate and shaking. “I-inspired me.”

Hector’s mouth was hot and greedy and open when he kissed you in response, as the rough pads of his fingers began circling your clit in a way that made you gasp helplessly. “Be careful,” he warned, pulling away from you just enough to speak. “It’ll go straight to my head if you tell me that. That I could possibly have this effect on you, my angel.”

“This is all you,” you said against his lips. “This is what you do to me, I swear.”

You felt his breath shake as he inhaled, his heart threatening to pound through his chest and into yours as he kissed you again. Christ, he’d only just started and you were already overwhelmed, between his tongue demanding in your mouth and the careful hand on your throat keeping you prone and exactly where he wanted you, your hips twitching and flexing into his hand. 

When your legs began to shake, he broke the kiss to only to hiss a single word as he pushed you lightly against your bed frame: “Kneel.”

You complied, realizing he’d lined you up perfectly with the end of your bed as you sank onto your knees on your mattress. Now with no fear of your legs giving out, you let Hector support your back against his chest, your breath already turning to short, desperate pants as he worked the most sensitive part of you.

Hector was murmuring feverishly into your hair when he wasn’t kissing you everywhere he could reach. “Yes, love, you’re doing so well for me, that’s perfect, you’re perfect, just let me— let me take care of you, please, let me make you feel a tenth of what I feel for you, even that.” His smooth facade was chipping away, sounding like he was just as desperate as you were as the coil of white-hot want at your center twisted tighter and tighter. While he fought to keep his voice steady, the moans that escaped him when you gasped and arched back against him sounded more like the him you knew outside the vent.

You grabbed at the hand at your throat, intertwining your fingers tightly with his. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop Hector, please—”

“Let go, love, I have you,” Hector rasped, the voice back in place. “Come for me, show me how you feel, please.”

You came with a shudder and an embarrassingly loud groan from deep in your chest, shaking against Hector’s torso as you ground your hips down onto his fingers without an ounce of shame. Though you couldn’t see them, your were certain your thighs were already glistening, and this was only one orgasm in.

Hector squeezed the sides of your throat with a fraction more pressure as you writhed, and you could feel him pressing his clothed erection against your ass, perhaps without even realizing it. 

Before you could catch your breath or even come down, Hector spun you lightly by your shoulders and barely nudged you backwards. Your lack of equilibrium and the fact that you felt weightless meant this left you sprawled out on your back, on top of your covers.

“What—” You started to sit up, confused, before Hector’s hand rested firmly over your stomach.

“Stay there,” he said, and the relative curtness of it compared to his usual eloquence made your thighs twitch all the harder.

You heard more fabric rustling, and the thud of something metal and heavy hitting the ground — his belt, you realized, and you parted your thighs before you fully realized what you were doing.

Hector chuckled shakily. “Oh, amor. Don’t tempt me before the second course.” He leaned down, tilting your chin with a finger to kiss you as you dazedly looked up.

 You heard him drop to the floor, muttering to himself so quickly you couldn’t catch it, before you heard something clicking closed. He gave a full-throated groan, as though pained, but before you could sit up to check on him, two hands dragged you roughly down your mattress by your thighs.

“Wait, hold on — are you okay?” You reached out blindly until you felt his hand, concerned. “What was that?”

“I’m fine, my love, I promise.” Hector’s free hand swept down your other thigh to soothe you, followed by his lips against your skin and the rasp of his stubble. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just - ah.” Another soft gasp, and a low moan as he adjusted whatever it was. “Something to help me not lose myself with you entirely. Not until the proper time.”

Before you could try to puzzle out what that meant, you felt his hands squeeze your thighs, before manipulating each one onto one of his shoulders.

“You have no idea,” he said, tracing a gossamer finger across their sensitive inner flesh. “No earthly idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He traced the inside of your thigh towards your cunt with the tip of his nose, occasionally pausing to sample now and then with a nipping kiss you knew would leave a small bruise, causing you to whimper at each. “How often I gazed down on you on this very bed, watching you alone, aching to touch you. I would’ve traded the rest of my life just to taste you.” 

You could feel his breath on the mess he’d left with just his fingers, seeming to drink you in before he pressed a delicate kiss to either side of your slit. He lingered there, and you could feel him panting lightly as his nose pressed into your pubic hair, until he groaned with unfiltered need.

“You’re divine,” he whispered, and before you could respond, the scalding flat of his tongue parted your lips.

“Fuck!” You arched your back against your mattress, your hands jumping to anchor in your lover’s dark, curly hair. “Fuck, Hector, oh my god—” But he was merciless against your still-sensitive clit, and when you tugged his hair without realizing, his resulting moan made you dizzy and light-headed. 

For all his beautiful words, Hector’s tongue was a menace in its own right. He ate you out like a man possessed, his fingers tight enough to bruise on your plush thighs as his tongue circled the innermost part of you, his nose nudging your clit in a way that made your hips buck against his face. But this only seemed to spur him on, his hands moving to pin you down as he devoured you with zeal.

Your hips trapped in his surprisingly strong grip, you moaned in frustration, and when he echoed you, it seemed to vibrate through your core. “Hector, it’s too much,” you begged, and tears threatened at the corner of my eyes. “I can’t, I can’t—”

But Hector only shook his head, his tongue moving in a way that sent sparks racing through your veins. Whereas all this time he’d been sitting off your bed, he only broke your connection to climb up onto your mattress, shifting your thighs on his shoulders before he sank his tongue into you. His ferocity left you keening raggedly, short of breath and desperate.

You gave up trying to resist, grinding yourself against Hector’s face, and as you did so, you felt the motion echoed further down your bed. It took a minute to orientate his relative position, but when you did, you realized with a jolt of heat that Hector must have been grinding into your mattress. The idea of his cock already leaking just from going down on you left you clenching with want around air, and Hector made a sound like a whine in response, shoving the flat of his tongue against your clit in a way that set your veins ablaze. He brought two fingers to your hole, sliding them inside with so little effort that you nearly started to cry, your face impossibly warm. He was utterly ruining you, and with frightening efficiency.

After a few minutes of slowly, steadily fucking you on them, he unexpectedly curled them inside you. You let out something close to a wail, throwing your head back against the sheets.

Your nails scraped his scalp, and his chin and stubble were absolutely soaked against your thighs. He only lifted his tongue from you to pant for a second, before rasping brokenly:

“Come on my face. Comeonmyface, amor, I’m begging, bless me with even that—”

This crack in his control, combined with the last crook of his fingers inside you, left you powerless. You came again, messily, nearly sobbing his name.

True to his word, he groaned as you ground your cunt against his tongue, holding completely still so you could use him as you wished. Your face absolutely seared at just how much your cunt was drooling into his mouth, tears creeping out from under your blindfold from both embarrassment and raw want. when you finally fell limp against the mattress, he laid wet kisses along your lower abdomen, whispering praises against your skin as he stroked your twitching thighs.

You could swear your ears were ringing and your skin was on fire. If you took off the blindfold now, you might still be seeing black, your vision a hazy swirl as your brain tried to figure out which way was up. 

“Oh my fucking god,” you mumbled, your voice shot.

“You’re one to talk of holiness,” Hector mumbled back, and you felt him rest his chin on one of your thighs. You could hear him sucking clean the fingers he’d fucked you with, like he hadn’t just had you coming all over his tongue. “You’re a sight, mi vida. You’ve never been more beautiful. If I died tomorrow, I would die utterly content.”

“…How the fuck,” you managed. “Are you still so…” You gestured uselessly, struggling for words. “…Together, right now?”

Hector let out an amused huff of air through his nose. “You can’t see me,” he said, and in that moment, you could hear just how strained his Vent Voice was. “If you could, you’d know how paper-thin my composure really is. How much you’ve already shattered me.”

“But I haven’t even gotten to touch you yet, you’re the one fucking me,” you protested weakly. “And fucking me... really, really well, actually. Like. Oh my god, Hector, your writing was one thing, but this—”

Hector pressed a finger to your lips, shushing you gently. “Don’t let me get cocky,” he said, and you could hear the pleased grin in his tone. “Not when I haven’t ravished you fully, yet. Not to my standards.”

Your lips started to form a question, but he seized your hips in his broad hands, pulling you further down the mattress again until you were flush with—

Your face felt like it was burning, realizing he was kneeling between your spread legs, his flesh impossibly warm against your own.

“I can’t,” you mumbled, hiding your face in your hands. “I’m already wrecked. I’ve got nothing left, Hector, I'm —”

Hector was crooning soft assurances as he delicately pulled your hands apart with his own, and you felt your fingers interlacing with his. He kissed each of your cheeks, the tip of his tongue tracing the salt that was surely leaking from under the blindfold by now. “Once more,” he murmured. He pressed each of the backs of your hands to his lips in turn, before stretching them over your head and pinning them to the mattress. “Once more, my heart, my darling, trust me just that much longer."

Slowly, you felt something pressing against your folds, and before you could register fully what it was, something hard and hot dragged itself against your slit. You exhaled raggedly, what little oxygen had returned to your brain leaving immediately.

"Let me fuck you, love,” Hector whispered, grinding his cock along your soaking wet cunt. "Like you deserve. Like I've wanted to since I first set eyes on you." He was already panting, his breath only getting shallower as he lost himself rutting against you. "...Oh, god." His voice echoed off your ceiling, near feverish and cracking through his carefully constructed tone. He continued like this for a minute, and you could feel his stomach moving against yours, the course hair at his base growing wetter --

Until something unexpectedly smooth and steel nudging your clit made you gasp, then thrash in his grip. "What… is that?"

Hector froze for a second, and it was obvious both of you were having problems with the powers of speech. "...Something to keep me ready for you," he said, though the Vent Voice unsteady. "So I can be what you need, when you need it. So I don't - ah," he whined, mindlessly grinding against you again. "Lose myself, as soon as I'm inside you."

You shuddered at the electric contact, his dick sliding through your folds, the metal catching lightly against your clit again in a way that made your hips buck. 

"...Is that a cock ring?" you asked, at last putting two and two together in your haze.

Hector's hips faltered again, and you could tell he was struggling to proceed. "Uh. ...Yes?" he said, his true voice back and uncertain. "Is... is that okay?"

Jesus, this man.

You strained against his grip, leaning up, desperate to kiss him. "Hector, oh my god," you said, your fingers squeezing his palms when you couldn't quite manage it. "You're going to kill me, you really are. Please, please, let me touch you."

Hector laughed softly, the relief evident, and he squeezed your hands back before he brought his lips to yours. "Not yet," he murmured in the Voice again, kissing the corners of your mouth and down your throat. "Not yet, lover, this is still just about you."

"Hector," you whined, petulantly writhing against your mattress. "It's not fair! I want to see you, I want to feel you, I--"

That last thought was interrupted by something thick sliding into you, the heat and the unexpected fullness causing your sentence to die on your lips.

“You were saying?" Hector was teasing, his thrusts slow and languid, and your jaw dropped as your brain went utterly blank. The feeling of him inside you was electric, his shaft dragging along your walls, his stomach warm and soft against yours as he fucked into you. The wiry hair on his body felt like static against your skin, and you pushed your hips desperately back against his.

"More," you moaned, the one word left in your brain. 

Hector inhaled sharply through his teeth, and he finally let go of your hands, grabbing instead once more onto your thighs. "Of course," he said. "Of course, my darling, anything you ask." 

He pulled you towards him so your hips were flush together, bottoming out in you with a strangled, desperate sound. Whereas before his pace had been sensual, lingering, his thrusts now were sharp and precise. He kept a punishing grip on your hips, and with your hands now free, you reached up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down so your chests were pressed together.

Hector groaned but adjusted the angle of his hips to compensate, and he took the new proximity to leave soft, longing bites along your clavicle, like he was restraining himself from devouring you even now. You, meanwhile, were shamelessly chasing your third orgasm, your hands moving with minds of their own -- squeezing his soft upper arms, clinging to his shoulders, anywhere you could try to find an anchor point.

"Hector." You were starved for air, your moans short and breathless. Everything felt siphoned by the muscles tensing again in your abdomen, the ache at the center of you that only resolved when he bottomed out. "I love you, I love you fucking me, please don't stop--"

"As long as you want." There was no room between the two of you, and his mouth was everywhere -- leaving bruising kisses on your neck, laving at the junction of your shoulder. "Until the breath leaves my body, I'm yours to use." He buried his face against your neck, a broken breath shuddering against your skin. "Whatever you need, I'll give you all of me."

You got your arms around his chest, and when you raked your nails down his back, he let out a guttural sound of pure want, his breath hot in your ear. 

You had no filter left between your mouth and your brain. "I want to come on your cock," you managed, and you heard him outright whine, felt him spasm inside you. "Please, Hector, I want to, please?"

"You will," he groaned, and his grip was iron as he pulled one of your thighs up along the curve of his hip. "I have you, amor, you will."

The room was already filled with the obscene sounds of his skin on yours, but for a second, it was punctuated by the staccato of your headboard hitting the wall. The knowledge that this was caused by your shy, nervous sweetheart pulled the coil of want at the center of you all the tighter, and your hips met his, greedy and seeking.

Between the metal of the ring against your aching clit and Hector's borderline punishing tempo, your unraveling wasn't long. You felt the pressure of his stomach against yours, felt it tensing, heard his own desperate moan -- only to remember that he was denying himself his own orgasm in pursuit of yours, near-punishing himself until he could give you everything you wanted.

This made you finally break for a third time, you felt your release hot and wet down your own thighs, borderline screaming Hector's name to the ceiling before he muffled you with his tongue in your mouth. He kept fucking you through your aftershocks, but slower now, sweeter. You were gasping into each other's mouths, you outright shaking, Hector running his hands soothingly up and down your sides and whispering to you between kisses to your face and forehead.

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." His words were rapid, feverish as his forehead pressed against yours. "I love you, angel, divine, whatever soul I have belongs to you."

You couldn't speak yet, but your nails hooked into his shoulders, desperate for anything to ground you. You could hear him hiss sharply at the feeling, but he kissed you heatedly, coaxing your mouth open as you caught your breath.

For a long few minutes, the two of you just lay there, him still inside you, unwilling to give up contract with the other's skin. His kisses were soft across your face and chest with whispered, effusive praise, but you kept steering him back to your lips, wanting him to feel firsthand how much you adored him.

As soon as you were capable of speech again, you let him know. "I'm in love with you," you managed, punctuating this with a gentle bite to his lower lip. "I love you so much, Hector, tell me you know that."

"Yes," he sighed, and you could feel him smiling as he kissed you back. "I am no less thunderstruck to be loved by the object of my every thought, but I know." He kissed each of your cheeks in turn, the corners of your mouth, and his arms caged your waist. "Are you satisfied, mi vida?" You could hear the pride in his voice, like he couldn't tell by taking in how you were only just catching your breath, your hair clinging to your skin with sweat.

"Mm." You smiled against his mouth as you crushed it in a kiss. "...Not quite, my love."

The sound he made in response would've made you giggle, were you not so committed to your bit. It reminded you of the time you asked him for a photo; a mix of confusion and mild shock. “…No?” he managed at last, the Vent Voice finally falling away entirely.

Grinning, you reached up and lifted the blindfold from your blisteringly warm face. "I want my turn, Hector."

His expression was adorable, flushed and perplexed, his hair clinging to his damp forehead. He stared at you, his mouth once again left scrambling to form words. He had no time to prepare before you pushed upwards against his chest, maneuvering your weight so he was abruptly underneath you.

Before he could get his bearings, you grabbed both his wrists, pinning them to the pillow above his head. The noise he made was an exhale of confusion laced with something close to a whimper, and you sat back as much as you could, taking in your prize. "Is this okay?"

Hector's flush extended down his chest and shoulders, his hair a mess against the pillow. He glistened slightly with a soft sheen of sweat from his earlier efforts, and his pupils were still blown wide, threatening to eclipse the dark iris you adored. For a solid minute, he merely gazed up at you like you were something holy, still at a loss for words.

"...Hector," you cooed, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. "I need a verbal answer. Is it okay if I hold you like this?" You jerked your chin towards where you still held his wrists, your grip lighter now in case he needed to get out.

"Yes," he breathed, and you could swear his pupils somehow widened further. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple moving in his throat. "Yes, my love, anything you want--"

“Not the answer I need,” you cut him off softly but firmly, shaking your head. “I want to make this about you now, darling.” You released his wrists and shifted your hips so you were finally two separate beings again, and he actually whimpered at the loss of contact. 

Moving to sit just to his side, you exhaled, feeling the new emptiness inside you again. He didn’t move an inch, following you with wide eyes.

You couldn’t help but smile at him watching you like that, tilting your head to finally take him all in. Your eyes traveled down his broad torso, the arms that had held you through feeling like you would shatter completely, the adorable stomach with the trail of dark hair that you wanted to kiss and nip all the way down to…

The glint of the modified metal wrapped at the base of his cock, which was still laying achingly erect and flush against said stomach.

The air left your lungs all at once, a sharp spark of need causing your still-sensitive clit to positively throb. You turned back to meet his eyes, only to see him still watching you like an especially anxious hawk, trying to read your reaction from your face.

You blinked, remembering that yes, this was actually the first time the two of you had been this… vulnerable, around one another.  “Can I touch you?” you asked quietly, looking shyly from him to the metal and back. “Is that okay?” You had lost all concept of subtle, only half-aware of how you were biting your lip in your eagerness.

The tension in Hector’s shoulders seemed to ease, as if relieved, but the flush across his cheeks and down to his chest renewed. “I… if you want to.” He nodded, shifting slightly where he was laying, like he was suddenly all too aware of your gaze. 

You laughed a little, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Of course I want to. I’m more concerned about if you want me to.” You moved to kiss the other corner, one hand going to his chest to push him back to the mattress when he tried to meet you halfway. When you had him pinned again, you angled your head so you were looking down into his eyes. “You took care of me, love, and in spades. Now I want to take care of you.” You thought for a moment, trying to figure out just how to frame this — he was nothing if not selfless, and he wasn’t always the best at knowing quite what he wanted at turn. “ And I want you to tell me how to do it properly.” You stroked his hair, watching him swallow thickly.  “Can you do that for me, Hector, please?”

“Please touch me,” he said without hesitation, his voice now fully back to its usual pitch and already a bit shaky.

You beamed. “Excellent start.” You leaned down, kissing him fully again. “Thank you.” 

You went to move, but paused halfway, looking back to where he was now sitting up slightly to watch you. “…Tell me something—” you began.

“Anything,” he said immediately, nodding just a little in his eagerness.

You couldn’t help a giggle, reaching over to stroke his hair. “You’re so cute.” Off his responding small smile, you turned back to face him fully, supporting yourself over him so he had to lean back to look into your eyes. “I was going to ask,” you went on. “Did you like it when I had your wrists pinned earlier? Or do you want to be able to move?”

Hector bit his own lip as he gazed up at you, and you could see him weighing his options. “…I love touching you, amor, you know that,” he said at last. “But that was… new.” There was a hopeful note at the end of the sentence, a curiosity there. 

“Okay, I can work with that.” You nodded, holding eye contact until the poor man’s flush revived itself, and he looked shyly away. “You know, I have wondered…” 

His eyes were partially eclipsed by his hair, now; the visible one looked your way again. “Wondered, amor?”

You moved all at once, straddling his thighs, and noticing just how his mouth fell open as you did so. “Do you remember, love, when you told me you can’t relax for yourself?”

“…Somewhat,” Hector said, clearly distracted as he looked between your eyes and where your thighs were back in contact with his skin again.

You took his wrists in your hands, moving them so they were back on the pillow above his head. “Do you need to be made to relax, do you think?”

Hector’s eyes went impossibly wider, something in your phrasing clearly clicking for him. “…Define ‘made.’” His voice was cautious, but the subconscious way he licked his lips gave him away.

You felt yourself mirror the gesture, a lascivious smile spreading. “Like we agreed to earlier,” you reminded him. “My turn will be me asking what you want, and giving it to you until you can’t take it anymore.” You squeezed his wrists gently.

His fists clenched in response. “I think we - phrased that differently,” he said, his breathing starting to shallow out.

“But do you object to my phrasing now?” You raised an eyebrow, both teasing and challenging.

“Not in the least,” he said, so quickly it was cute.

You giggled. “Then do me a favor,” you said, lifting your hands off his wrists. “And keep those right where I left them, or I stop. Agreed?”

“Yes.” Hector nodded, then paused. “…With one addendum.”

“Oh?” You sat back, curious.

“Don’t — don’t blindfold me.” Hector’s eyes roved over you, his gaze so hungry it felt like a caress. “Let me see you. Let me at least have that.”

Your face felt hot again with how unabashed he was, but you played to it, holding eye contact as you leaned forward again across his torso. You carefully avoided any skin contact with his neglected cock, instead placing your hands over Hector’s chest. “Whatever you want, love.” You only looked down to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his bare clavicle.

Hector’s hands moved off the pillow as he made a soft sound of longing, but you sat up, giving them a sharp look.

He froze, to his credit, and tamely let them fall back against the fabric. When you returned to kissing your way up his neck, he groaned in frustration, and you could hear them moving on the pillowcase. “I - I might have not thought that through,” he admitted, already breathless.

“No?” You laved the sweat from his skin, enjoying the salt before you left a bite sure to bruise — one that mirrored a similar mark he’d left on your own shoulder. 

Hector hissed through his teeth. “No,” he agreed. “How could I not want to touch you?”

“But look, darling.”  You sat up, shaking your hair away from your face, then shrugging your marked shoulder. “We’ll match now.”

Hector’s cock visibly throbbed, his eyes infinitely black as he looked between the two with utter reverence, like he was seriously considering getting his tattooed on him. 

You took your time kissing your way down his chest, lingering to kitten-lick the nipples that had been hiding under the metal of his coat. He positively writhed at this, turning his hands back on the pillow to grip it in frustration. You watched him bite his lip until you feared blood, the small noises he failed to muffle speaking to just how it likely wouldn’t take much to wreck him at all…

Unless.

You pondered something as you kissed down his soft stomach, caressing his sides, making a point to lick a hot stripe through the trail that led down, down…

“I love this,” you mumbled, pausing to run your nails lightly down the skin of his stomach. Hector gasped, squirming underneath your hands, and you drank in the sight. “You’re so soft, Hector, but so solid. You make me feel safe, supported, always.” You leaned down, licking another stripe where his stomach met his hip, only just managing to hold him down when he bucked against the feeling. “And when I felt you against me, pushing into me, putting me exactly where you needed to to make me lose my mind…” 

You angled where you were leaning to grind your cunt along one of his hips, and Hector moaned in agony, his head falling back into the pillow and his hands twisting on the cloth of the case. 

“I know you’re too much of a lover, darling,” you said, licking a nipple again to watch his chest rise and fall raggedly. “But I did think about how you could easily have me any way you wanted, all for your own pleasure.” You grinned, watching that ragged breathing stutter, the way his jaw dropped soundlessly at the idea. 

“Blasphemy.” Hector’s eyes were wild, and he had to physically grab one of his wrists with his other hand to keep them both down. “You’re divine to me, I could never— I wouldn’t dare—”

“But what if I asked you to?” You sat back on your knees, drawing a line down the inside of one of his thighs with a nail to watch it twitch and shake. You weren’t sure if the whine was from the contact, or from the idea of using you. When you met his eyes again, he looked on the verge of pain. “It’s not like I’m not all yours, anyway.”

You watched his eyes, already overly bright with how you were torturing him, as you calmly positioned yourself next to his twitching cock, still trapped in the ring. 

“Am I correct,” you said slowly. “That you can’t come until this is off?” You merely tapped a nail on the steel, and his hips bucked sharply upwards.

“Y-yes,” he managed, his voice already shredded with want.

You pursed your lips, considering this. “Duly noted.” You looked back up at him. “Spread your legs for me?”

He did so with such alacrity, your heart ached.

You settled yourself between them, making a show of reaching to your still-drooling cunt to gather the slick there onto your fingers — his breathless whimper making you crack and smile after all. You took your time taking in his cock, wretchedly hard with neglect, still thick from where he’d made you come so hard you’d cried. The pre was practically dripping off the tip, and when you took it in hand at last, you felt it flex against your palm as Hector groaned from the depths of his chest.

You pumped your hand over the shaft with a slowness that made Hector throw his head back in frustration, his hips desperately trying to meet your palm.

“Easy there, love,” you soothed. When your hand was near the head, you spread the pre over his slit with your thumb, and he was already making a sound akin to a sob. “I have you now. I promise.”

“I love you,” Hector managed brokenly, his eyes squeezed shut from overwhelm. “I love you, please, please keep touching me—”

You leaned forward while he wasn’t looking, and when you took the head alone in your mouth, Hector had to visibly fight not to thrust into it. You teased him, swirling your tongue around the glans as you continued to pump the shaft, watching his breathing shallow out and his knuckles nearly turn white on his wrist. As you took more, your tongue tracing the hot vein along the underside, Hector’s back arched as he fought not to make you gag.

You let go with a soft ‘pop’ of suction, another strand of saliva linking your mouth to his skin. “Hector,” you said, your voice soft and innocent. “I want you to look at me.”

Hector complied immediately, sitting up just enough to see you —

As you took the most of him into your mouth yet, your other hand coming up to cup his balls as you did so. 

You could feel him throbbing in your mouth as he moaned in utter agony, his abdomen tensing, his balls tightening against your palm. “Mi vida, amor, please, please please I’m begging you, gorgeous creature, mercy—”

You took him as deep as you could, your nose brushing the dark, coarse hair at the base, and when his reflexes finally won out, you gagged around him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He sounded on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry, my love, I didn’t mean—”

But you put a hand on his stomach to soothe him, sitting up to breathe. “I’m fine,” you managed. “I wanted to gag on you, it’s okay.”

“You’re going to kill me,” Hector mumbled, eyes glazed and hazy from lust, tears at the corners to match those in yours. “I’m going to die right here in your bed, at this rate.”

“Tell me where you want to come first,” you said, back to pumping him as you waited for your throat to relax again. 

Hector blinked, and for a moment you thought you’d finally broken him. “What?”

“My mouth?” You prompted. “My chest? My stomach?”

Hector’s hands were twisted into your sheets, but you didn’t want to wreck your momentum by punishing him appropriately. “I…” He struggled for words, before finally admitting in a cracked whisper, “Inside you.” He swallowed hard. “Please. I have to be inside you, now, or I’ll lose what’s left of my mind.”

You laughed as much as you could manage with a slightly sore throat, charmed. “Of course, love. Just— give me a moment.”

You doubled back to plant kisses up the insides of his thighs, nipping the inside of the left so gently, he fully whined above you. When you let yourself take his balls in your mouth, appreciating just how swollen they were, you felt him clawing at your blankets, speaking too fast for you to quite make out what he was saying besides the fact that it sounded like a prayer.

After a few more agonizing moments, you straddled his hips, his cock resting just against your cunt. You let it drool onto his skin, his hips bucking and twitching underneath you, him fully babbling at this point.

“My love, my angel, please, please oh god I can’t take this please—”

“Come here,” you murmured, and he sat up like a man reanimated, his hands flying to your torso to run over as much of your skin as he could reach.

You met his lips with yours, exploring his mouth as you rocked your hips so your clit caught one last time on the metal ring. Hector’s hips jerked back, tears escaping from his lashline down his cheeks at the friction.

When at last you slid onto him, Hector hid his face in your shoulder, panting openly against your skin. You rolled your hips together, and he met yours eagerly, his nails digging into your back in turn.

You stayed there for a few minute, feeling him spasm inside you as you moved, him clinging to you like he never wanted to be apart from you again.

“I love you, Hector,” you whispered, your lips against his ear as you reached between the two of you two find the place where the ring came apart —

And as soon as you’d gotten it loose, Hector came with a broken sob of your name, the heat of his release molten inside you.

You rode him through it, feeling it easily overflowing you so it dripped down your thighs, mixing with your own orgasm from earlier. Your skin felt impossibly hot, Hector crushing you against his torso as the two of you moved, and the slick sounds between the two of you were utterly obscene.

You kept riding him until at last he was totally spent, the two of you collapsing in a sweaty tangle to your mattress.

Hector’s lips were on yours, on your face, along your hairline. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice still broken.

You were still trying to catch your breath, but you kissed him back. “So you enjoyed yourself, then?” you teased.

“You exceeded my every desire,” Hector said, fully earnest, and the sweetness of it made you lose your breath all over again. “I’m never letting you go, I hope you understand that. I can’t bear to, not now.”

“Not even to put clothes on?” you joked, resting your glistening forehead against his.

“Especially not that,” Hector grinned. “We’ll simply resign ourselves to be here, forever.”

“No more vents for you?” You grinned back, but there was hope underneath the words.

“I live in your bed now.” He kissed your cheek, beaming at you. “Betty will just have to understand. It simply cannot be helped.”

You actually giggled, hugging him tightly and rolling so you were laying on his chest.

The two of you stayed that way for a while in sweet, fulfilled silence, the room filling with the warm honey of the golden hour through your window.

You rolled onto your side to admire him in the light, gazing as though you wanted to memorize every inch of him — which you did. “…You’re really hot when you’ve just finished wrecking me, you know that?” You reached up, gently stroking some of his hair away from his face, then tracing his cheek with a fingertip. 

His eyes immediately looked down, away, back up to the safety of his vent — anywhere but at you. “Don’t tease,” he mumbled. His whole demeanor changed from the afterglow of a moment ago, and he finally went to pull his arms in to cover his soft torso.

“Hey.” You bumped his arms away as he had yours earlier, moving on the mattress so you were chest to chest again. You kissed him earnestly, hoping to soothe the anxiety you could see gathering like a storm at his brow. “I’m not teasing,” you said, pulling away just enough to speak while looking him in the eye. “I think you’re hot, and I’m madly in love with you.”

Hector rolled his eyes ever so slightly, even as a smile tugged begrudgingly at his lips. “Amor. You don’t…” He trailed off, lips pressed together as he chose his words. “Have to… tell me that.” He nodded slightly, trying to keep the smile on. “It’s really okay.”

“Hector, forgive my arguing, love — but you literally just made me scream your name,” you said bluntly. You set a fingertip on his chest, making a point. “Nobody else has ever actually achieved that.”

His face flushed furiously again, and for an instant, the smile became more solid. Real. With just a hint of the pride you knew was in there somewhere.

“Have they?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow. “You would know,” you added quietly. “I know now you watched me with others.”

Hector made a quiet sound of discontent, any confidence disappearing as he looked away. “I’m sorry, I know I—”

“Don’t apologize. I’m into that too,” you said quietly, a sly smile creeping in. “I consider it part of your… unique form of dedication.” You drew a line with your nail up to his jaw, tracing his lower lip. “But you’re still not answering my question, love.” You tilted your head to catch his eye. “It’s only you, isn’t it?”

“…You deserve that and more,” he said at last, eventually looking up at you through his lashes. “I’m only lucky it was me who had the honor.”

“But why can’t I be lucky to have it be you?” you asked plaintively. When he didn’t answer right away, you sat up to put a little space between the two of you, realizing something. “…Do you not believe me, when I say I’m in love with you?”

“No,” he said immediately, and his hand gently caught on to your upper arm, keeping you anchored to him. “No, my love, I do.”

“Really?” You were watching his face now, searching for a telltale sign in his eyes, in the way his mouth moved. The idea that he didn’t believe you filled you with a cold, hollow dread that left you slightly sick. “You’re not just saying that?”

“No!” He caught your other arm as you moved further away, pulling you down to him again. “No, I believe you. I promise,” he pleaded, his eyes wide. “It’s just…” He pressed his mouth into a line, his eyes moving along the ceiling as he tried to find the words yet again. 

“…Am I… doing something to make you think I’m not?” you asked quietly. You swallowed — everything had been so beautiful, until you’d… what? Told him you were attracted to him? You’d just wanted to make him feel as loved as he made you. “…Is it me?”

“No.” Before you could blink, Hector had pulled you flush to his chest again, his eyes holding the same strange brilliance you’d seen upon your first meeting in the dark vent. “Listen to me: I have never loved anyone more than I love you,” he said quickly, nose to nose with you now. “You are my heart made human, you are the anchor of my animus. I’m yours, every part of me.” The light in his eyes changed, pained now. “But it’s me. Do you understand? You are beautiful,” he said, his hands sliding up to squeeze your shoulders. “You are my muse, my light.” He swallowed hard, like there was a lump in his throat. “And the only way I can show you how much I adore you is by giving myself over to you completely, satisfying you so thoroughly that you never have reason to think--” His voice caught, and he broke your gaze. “…To think about how you could do better.”

“What are you talking about?” You shook your head, perplexed. “Hector, I’m just… I’m only me. I’m completely ordinary. You’re the one who could do better, I’m sorry.” You managed a laugh, but it burned your throat. “…And I’m so afraid one day you’re going to realize that, you know?”

He looked up sharply, eyes flashing. “Don’t you ever say that.”

“Hector, listen to me,” you argued, straddling his lap so he couldn’t look away. “You’re literally an artist.” You held up a finger when he opened his mouth to argue, and he closed it again, albeit hesitantly. “Your prose breaks my heart and melts me, all at once. You’re sweet, you’re sensitive, you’re one of the most thoughtful people I’ve ever met — when you first told me how you felt, I could barely breathe,” you confessed, and it was hard to keep your voice steady. “Because I had no idea how I had captured the eye of someone so -  so passionate.” You swallowed, your mouth feeling full of ash. “When I was just… here,” you gestured limply around your empty bedroom. “Alone. Trying to justify what I was doing with my life, what I was thought I could prove to anyone. Trying to convince myself to keep… hell.” You looked away, your eyes stinging for a different reason. “Keep trying at all, I guess.”

You blinked hard. You would not cry and totally ruin this, you would not. 

“…My love?” Hector was all concern, which made it so you couldn’t look at him lest you definitely break. But when his hands slid to your hips, you still set yours on top of his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. He waited then, seemingly content with this sign.

“…And then suddenly, I put on these glasses and realized you were in my vents, of all places,” you said at last, keeping your eyes down. “And you were in love with me, and I didn’t really know what I did to - to earn it. But you made me feel seen in a way that… no one else really had. Ever.” You felt yourself shrug, a wavering smile managing to form on your face. “You make me feel like… whatever force animates the pair of us, whatever stardust we might be made of, ours is the same.  I could… belong here. With you.” You chewed your lower lip, feeling your skin catch fire again.  “And that’s what I’m saying, when I tell you I’m in love with you. ‘Please let me stay here. Please let this be home.’” You forced yourself to take a breath. “‘Please don’t think about it and realize otherwise.’”

You were interrupted by Hector suddenly seizing the back of your neck, and pulling you against his bare chest in a crushing hug. His other hand was planted firmly against the center of your spine, and when he buried his nose in your hair, you realized you could feel him shaking against you. His voice threatening to crack, he managed only a single word:

“Never.”

He pulled the pair of you down to the mattress, keeping you tightly curled in his arms, his legs entangling with yours to keep him completely in contact with your skin. You shifted your arms so they encircled his chest, your fingertips lightly tracing the scratches you’d left in his back at the height of your passion.

For a while, the two of you just stayed there, the only sound the other’s breathing and the opening salvo of the crickets outside.

And for a minute, it felt like you were the only two left in a house full of people.

Maybe even in the world.

He was the first to pull back, eyes intense like he was trying to memorize your own. “My love, I’m sorry.” He cupped your cheek in his hand with the utmost softness. “I didn’t intend to make you think I doubted you. The only person I doubt between us is myself;  you have never had to earn my love. You never will. I love all of you, even the parts you don’t — for reasons I cannot begin to fathom, but that’s another talk entirely.” He kissed your forehead, then your lips, before holding your gaze again. “You have the whole of my heart. You have since I first came into your service, you know that. I couldn’t imagine giving it to anyone else — adoring anyone else, the way I do you.”

“Then please trust me,” you said quietly. You reached up to stroke his hair yet again, then trailed your hand down his cheek and to his shoulder. “Please, if you love me as much as you say you do — and I know you do,” you added, off the way his eyes briefly went dark. “Know that it’s reciprocated wholeheartedly. That I love you, and how you love me,” you went on, smiling now. “And I would do anything to make sure you felt it returned just as ardently, because you deserve that and more. I love who you are, exactly as you are.” You kissed his forehead. “You cannot let the version of me in your head be cruel to you. I refuse to allow such heinous falsehoods to leave my lips, even my imaginary ones.”

As Hector listened to this, you noticed his eyes taking on a liquid shine, which he quickly tried to hide by looking down and away. After a long pause, he leaned up to kiss your forehead, then tucked you under his chin and against his chest.

“…You’re going to put my prose to shame if you carry on like that,” he said softly, but you could hear the smile there yet again.

“Yeah, well.” You kissed his chin, his soft jawline, the spot by his ear that made his breath catch. “What can I say? You’ve met your match, Condicionado.”

Hector hugged you even tighter, a blissful sigh ruffling your hair. “Even for as long as I watched you from afar, I had no idea just how well we suit each other.” He traced the bite marks he left in your shoulder with a fingertip, making you shiver pleasantly. 

You paused then, something occurring to you. “…Speaking of which.”

Hector raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Hold on.” You kissed his cheek before you gently removed yourself from his grasp, rolling over to the other side of your bed and reaching behind your nightstand.

You could feel the mattress shift as he sat up slightly, looking over your shoulder. “What do you have there, amor?”

“Okay, so.” You pulled a fairly thick, worn notebook out of a crevice, wiping away a smidge of dust before turning back to him. You hugged it slightly to your chest, feeling a bit… protective, even with him. “It’s not as nicely bound as yours, for one.”

Hector blinked, looking from you to the notebook and back again. “‘Mine?’” He sized it up, a glint of curiosity and hope in his eyes. “…Is that—”

“So after I met Mac,” you explained, unable to meet his eyes for a moment. “And they mentioned they had, uh… read my previous work,” you phrased it carefully. 

“‘Previous work?’” Hector repeated, looking more and more interested by the minute. 

“Well,” you said, shifting in place. “I figured… I didn’t want to take the chance of them discovering this one. Especially since, you know.” You chewed your lip, hoping you didn’t lose your nerve. “They, um. Know you. And all. It just felt… you know, like an invasion of privacy, so I figured I’d, um. Write it by hand. So it’s a little messy—”

“It’s handwritten?” Hector looked positively giddy when he looked back to you. “You wrote? About me?”

“Oh my god, do I write about you,” you muttered, having to look away when your face started to feel hot again. You cleared your throat slightly. “I… tend to use it as a way to work out some of my… more… obsessive feelings, shall we say?” You glanced at him from under your lashes. “So, uh. Just be advised--”

“PleasecanIreadit?” Hector’s tone was indistinguishable from when he’d asked you to come on his face, and his expression just as besotted.

“It gets better as it goes, I swear,” you said, passing the notebook into his eager grasp. “It just took me a minute to figure out just how to write you, after the first day—”

“The first day?” Hector looked up from where he’d immediately opened it. “That soon?”

“…Well, yeah,” you said, like this was obvious. “You were eloquent and mysterious. I was intrigued and… honestly super aroused,” you added in a shy mumble.

“Oh. Well. So that really was mutual.” Hector blushed even as he grinned, and his eyes eagerly fell back to the first page.

After you kissed his cheek again, you slipped to the bathroom to grab something to clean you both off.

A few quiet, content minutes passed as you let the water warm up, you idly running your fingers under the faucet — Winnifred must have been entertaining, so you didn’t mind waiting.

It wasn’t long after before Hector called your name.

“Yeah?” you called back, your mind still in a half-dreamy haze.

“I’m going to need you to get back here,” Hector said, his voice returned to its lower register. “And show me exactly what you mean about — does this say ‘ankles’?”

“…Oh! Yeah. That.” You smiled to yourself at the memory of writing that particular scene, shutting off the sink and heading back to your room with a warm washcloth in tow. “Well, okay, so we’re going to need some ice and a shibari rope for this chapter.”

“This chapter?”

“Yeah, you’ll see what I mean.”

“My god, my love, I hope so.”

I'm hoping I'll write some fluff of him too oh shit and spit kink I forgot that in this one, but. I wrote this when I was on my period and ran out of ice cream, what can I say.

if you read this far, you're an angel~ <3

[docrobinavitch]

ok so y'all seem to really be into this little snippet and idk when it'll be done (i have a feeling it's going to be... pretty long? i would guess at least 10k??) and i am still just in the early strokes sort of outlining as i go. but anywho all that to say i wanted to give you guys just another little taste!! as u may know the fic is taking place mostly on the one shift from season one so this is right after javadi passes out. ok enjoy hehehe <3 syd

“Robby,” You called when you saw him at the hub, glasses perched on his nose. He looked up in surprise at the sound of your voice. He couldn’t remember the last time you had sought him out. But then he frowned when he saw Javadi, one of the new med students, walking a few steps ahead of you, “She… fell and hit her head.”

“I’m fine,” Javadi said immediately, “I just tripped.”

You met Robby’s eyes over Javadi’s shoulder and gave a sharp shake of your head that had Robby fighting a smirk, “Okay, why don’t you go hang out in the break room for a bit. Eat a snack, drink some water.”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary.” Javadi said.

“Oh, I know,” He took his glasses off, folding them and placing them in his pocket, “Hospital policy, though.”

Javadi stood there for a moment and you could see the battle waging in her body, deciding if she wanted to argue or not, but eventually, she started walking off.

“Other way,” Robby gently corrected when she went in the wrong direction, and you bit down on your lip as she walked by you again.

Then, you realized Robby was smiling at you. It took you aback, that gentle, tired smile on his face. The crinkles by his eyes and rosy cheeks. You hadn’t seen him like this in a long time, and certainly not when he was looking at you.

“What?” You asked, frowning.

He shrugged, “Just, reminds me of you when you were an intern, that’s all.” He said, gesturing in the direction Javadi had walked off to, “Something to prove and a nervous energy that could rival a cheetah. Not to mention taking a header on day one.”

Despite it all, you smirked, “I was not that nervous.”

“Oh, yes you were.” He nodded slowly, grin stretching so much, you could see teeth, “That’s at least half the reason you passed out in the first place.”

And it was really quite jarring, seeing him look at you fondly like that. Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest and your traitorous brain started pulling up snapshots of when he used to look at you like this. 

All the time. Several times a day, in fact. 

Like the time you passed out and hit your head on your first day as an intern.

You blinked the memory away and hoped you seemed unaffected, “Fine. Maybe I was,” You swallowed and turned to look towards the direction Javadi went, “I should go check on her.”

When you looked back at him, the smile was gone, replaced with disappointment. He wanted you to play with him, you realized, like you used to. But you couldn’t. Not if you wanted to keep your sanity.

When you began to walk away, he called your name. You swore it sounded hoarse, broken, coming from his lips, but thought you must be imagining things. You turned back.

“It’s… It’s really good to have you back.”

You’re not entirely sure why it irritated you, this whole interaction. Perhaps it just reminded you of everything you’d lost the last few years. Everything that had slipped between your fingers when you thought you had a firm grip on it. On him.

At any rate, you didn’t trust yourself to say anything you wouldn’t regret later, so you clenched your jaw and mock saluted him before turning on your heel and heading to the break room.

[borkunlimited]

Siúil a Rúin

As Take Your Time, Miss Deer, finally comes to an end, I want to reach out to everyone with a note, a thank you for being here in this two month long journey of weekly updates.

I still remember how I decided to write this fic out of a whim, mostly for myself because I want to sharpen my skills as a writer. What started as a whim turn to little snippets, then an outline, and finally, a challenge where I told myself I will complete this fic in a span of 10 chapters.

Honestly, I did not intend to post this at all here in Tumblr, but my beta reader and a friend convinced me otherwise and I am glad I listened to them or else I wouldn't have met each of you today.

This fic was incredibly challenging to write but mostly because I wouldn't deny that numbers still bother me though I still stick to my belief that these shouldn't define my worth as a writer.

One challenge I encounter is actually creating Miss Deer. Sweet characters seemed easy to write when you see them surface level but sweet characters who are layered are more difficult. I want her to be sweet and kind but not the type that she is dependent on other people to live, rather, has her own set of strengths.

I mentioned this several times to my moot (Hi @xiiiaomaiii!) how FLs from Studio Ghibli greatly influenced me and rewatching them all in one go gave me a better idea on how to write her character and how Sylus will play in the story.

I don't want Miss Deer to be completely dependent on him and I want Sylus to be like how every ML is in Studio Ghibli: Supportive and kind.

(Did it work? I like to think I managed to flesh out her character well based on everyone's feedback.)

There are multiple challenges that I have encounter along the way. My worry on ensuring that Sylus, the twins, and even the characters I have isekai'd in this fic (ex. Louis from Beastars) are not OOC. My realization that having an outline is completely different from fleshing it out and there are times I close the doc then call it a day.

Sometimes, I even erase lines of paragraphs. (Bork, do you still have them? No, they are in the abyss now, forever gone haha)

Anyways, I don't want to keep this long! These are just musings, mostly for my future self to read when she looks back.

What's next?

I will focus on drawing art for this fic during my break.

Pick-up what I left off in the side story related to this fic which is about Luke, Kieran, and the sheep hybrid occasionally mentioned.

(This side story is more focused on the themes of coming of age, the twins and the sheep MC navigating in their relationship. I mostly draw inspiration from Skip and Loafer and Horimiya for this. Also, the amount of Luke & Kieran fics is low and I, an upstanding citizen, must do my part.)

Might write short stories and drabbles between Sylus and Miss Deer as well.

Will I write another longfic?

Yes, I already have something in the works but I need to read more about this LI (Who is the LI? Hehe, you'll see), read more books, watch more films in line with the idea I have in mind.

When will you see this longfic?

One day when you wake up (Hopefully on a warm, sunny day), you'll just see the first chapter and you and I will be in another ride where I publish weekly (I pray nothing gets in the way of my life.)

I am happy this story reached you and when you reread it, I hope my intent of making it a cozy story will make you feel better, recharge you, and help you get ready to face what is ahead.

Thank you everyone!

AO3: Take Your Time, Miss Deer: 🦌🐉 Luke & Kieran's Bakery Attack(s): 🐺🐺🐑

Tumblr: Take Your Time, Miss Deer:🦌🐉 Luke & Kieran's Bakery Attack(s):🐺🐺🐑

[luxcuriousao3]

Mer!Soap x Human!Ghost

A belated snippet (~1k words) of a mermay fic I started but never finished. Johnny is a spinner shark mer. Inspired by Not Even The Depths by CedarDove on AO3.

cw: loss of limbs (fins), depression, mentions of past mer poaching

Johnny was curled up in the cave in his tank, hiding from the aquarium staff. He was always in there, really—he only ever came out if he was lured with food. He'd stopped letting them tend to his wounds weeks ago, but since he was mostly healed, they'd allowed it.

Mostly healed. Because Johnny was still missing a large chunk of the fin on his right arm, along with the entirety of his smaller dorsal fin. He hated catching his own reflection in the glass of his tank and seeing his mutilated body. Just another reason to stay inside his cave.

Whenever he did surface for food, the humans spoke to him in bright, cheerful tones that grated against his sensitive, pointed ears, but to each other, it was all hushed, worried whispers. Whispers about him.

He'd realized early on in his time here that they didn't know he could understand them. Granted, his comprehension of their finicky language hadn't been the best when he'd been rescued, but as the months passed, he'd grasped it quite well. There were still some words he didn't know, and sometimes, if they spoke too fast or too quietly, it was a struggle to follow, but for the most part, he knew exactly what they were talking about.

Johnny's nose twitched as the scent of fresh blood greeted him, and he was off like a shot, breaking the surface and grabbing the dead fish that was tossed to him. It was humiliating, being unable to catch and kill his own food. But he supposed that was just his life now.

He retreated slightly, only his eyes above the water as he ate his first fish and spied on the humans.

Right now, they were murmuring to each other about a new human joining the aquarium—one who would be Johnny's new "caretaker." He associated that word with the woman to the left, the one who brought him food and bared her teeth at him—a friendly gesture among humans, he'd learned after his initial, aggressive reaction to what was a threat display among shark mers—periodically throughout the day. Johnny didn't find that news very interesting, so when he finished stripping the meat off the fish's bones, he tossed the skeleton back onto the dock by their feet, interrupting them and indicating he was ready for another.

A second fish was thrown his way, and he ate it in the same fashion that he had the first. Once, he would have kept the prettiest bones and added them to his collection of treasures, but he didn't see the point in it anymore. He didn't see the point in much of anything, these days…

Johnny tossed the second fish skeleton on the dock—it was annoying that they only gave him one at a time, because as useless as he now was, even dead fish couldn't escape him. He'd gathered that they did it to keep him out of his cave for longer so they could get a better look at his healing injuries. Regardless, it irritated Johnny to no end, and he swished his tail back and forth in agitation when his caretaker took too long to give him another fish, distracted by something. He hissed and chittered at her, demanding the rest of his meal in very foul mermish.

When she finally gave it to him, he bit its head off with more force than necessary, squishing the eyeballs between his sharp, pointed teeth with a squelch and a pop, the way he knew she hated. Just as expected, she wrinkled her nose and shivered, and Johnny turned away from her, chewing his fish with a smug smile.

It was then that his senses tingled, and he realized he was being watched by someone other than the two on the dock. His head whipped to the side, lightning fast, bright blue eyes locking onto a vague blur standing in front of his tank. Though mers had better eyesight than regular sharks, it was still not particularly good. So Johnny did what any mer would do, and dove through the water to go investigate the threat to his territory.

He wobbled as he swam, and though he had been doing so for months now, it never ceased to be embarrassing. So, slower than he was used to, but still much faster than a human could ever dream of going without one of their big, metal, floating contraptions, Johnny spun sharply right in front of the glass and then pressed himself against it, baring his teeth in what was decidedly not a friendly gesture.

The intruder was a tall, broad human, bigger than most Johnny had seen. Johnny was large for his kind of mer—he was not the longest, though he was nearly eight feet from top to tail, but he was far stockier than any other he’d encountered, with wide shoulders and thick, muscular arms. Yet this man was wider, and with how he was standing so close to Johnny’s tank, eyes fixed on him unblinkingly, he registered as a threat. Johnny smacked the end of his tail hard against the glass hard, making his displeasure known.

Immediately, the man backed away, hands raised to show he meant no harm. The bottom half of his face was covered by the strange cloth that humans wore, but his eyes were visible. There was no fear in them despite Johnny’s aggressiveness. This human was a predator, just like him, and predators didn’t spook so easily.

Johnny hissed, bubbles escaping from his mouth as he clacked his teeth and banged his tail on the glass again. He wasn’t usually so bothered by the presence of other predators—his species of mer were well known for school hunting, after all, even if they weren’t otherwise very social—but he was vulnerable, with his missing fins. And he had learned first hand just how dangerous humans could be. This one was one he wouldn’t let himself underestimate.

The human retreated, and Johnny settled slightly, peering through the glass until his blurry shape was gone entirely. Only then did he return to his cave, not bothering to collect the half-eaten fish he’d dropped. He wasn’t hungry anymore. The fish could join him in rotting at the bottom of this stupid tank, for all he cared.

[stormsthatrage]

Have a dialogue snippet from the Lies to Send You Home AU (where Urahara tricks Ichigo into seeking out the Shiba family). This is during the second part, after Aizen is dead, Ichigo has told Kaien about a good chunk of the future, and Kaien is coming to the horrendous realization that Urahara would actually be an excellent addition to the family.

_____________________________________________

“Oh, gods,” Kaien says, despairing, as the universe’s greatest jape yet becomes clear to him. Urahara is a genius among genii, an intelligence the likes of which Soul Society will not see twice. But at the end of the day, in a plot twist Kaien could have really done without — “You’re as stupid as Ichigo.”

Urahara sets his brush down and leans back. Kaien finally finds himself holding the attention of the captain. It does not feel like a victory. Urahara’s face moves into an unsettling smile, his eyes blank and the corners of his mouth stretched just slightly too wide. It is the movement of a monster mimicking something it does not understand but has seen others do; a predator camouflaging itself to get close to prey.

Kaien considers how much practice Urahara must have in controlling his facial expressions and body language, and wonders how any of them ever fell for it, the psychopath-facade of his. If Urahara actually were what he pretended to be, no one but Captain Shihouin would have been able to pick up on it - he certainty wouldn’t have been showing his true colors so blatantly.

(A thought for later, Kaien thinks. Why does someone destroy their own reputation? Certainly not for selfish reasons.)

“My, my, Lord Shiba, such harsh words for your cousin.” Urahara’s voice is plainly mocking. “Could it be that the Shiba’s newest pride and joy is as bad at kido as the rumors say?” He tilts his head, smiling still.

Two weeks ago, Kaien would have bought that Urahara was trying to rile him up, embarrass him, and make him angry — and all for the game of it, too.

But Ichigo gave away more than he thinks he did, when telling Kaien of the future. And that precious knowledge has taught Kaien to look harder, peer deeper, when dealing with the Captain of the 12th.

And so Kaien sees, now, plain as day, that Urahara is taking the opportunity to test Kaien, trying to suss out if the Shiba clan is as nice as their reputation would have people believe they are.

Kaien gets it, he really does, especially considering which clan Urahara grew up in the tender care of.

Kaien wonders how long Urahara has worried about this, if Ichigo is being treated right behind closed doors - if the Shiba have been cruel to Ichigo for his lack of talent in the bloodline kido, or for the way he so obviously wasn’t raised a noble, or for one of the other thousand things the Shihouin clan would have made Ichigo’s life a living hell for.

Urahara’s eyes are intent, studying Kaien’s every minute movement. Kaien wonders what would have happened to him if the words had struck a nerve, if he had given any indication that he was embarrassed by Ichigo. Violent food poisoning, at least.

(It does not escape Kaien’s notice that when Urahara missed the affection in Kaien’s complaint — they’ll have to work on that, Urahara will be eaten alive by the clan kids if he doesn’t learn how to tease — Urahara only came to the defense of Ichigo, completely ignoring that Kaien’s comment was mostly aimed at himself.

Exactly the same type of stupid as Ichigo. Fuck.)

[revelboo]

RAHHHHHH👹

The way you write is so fun and feels so natural I always find myself coming back to see if there’s more

Thank you for the divine snippets 🫶🫶take care :]

Thank you!

The Weakends Pt 4

TFP Ratchet x Reader

• “Can you not break everything you touch?!” Looking up at the outburst, you bite your lip to keep from smiling or laughing. It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that the gruff medic’s anger is mostly bluster. An act, albeit a convincing one. And it’s particularly effective on Bulkhead, the huge mech’s shoulders hunching like a little kid being scolded. “How many times have I told you not to touch my things?” You must have snorted or made a noise, because Ratchet turns the full power of that scowl your way. Even if you imagine his optics soften ever so slightly.

• Gritting his denta to keep from smiling as your little shoulders shake with silent laughter, Ratchet is aware of Bulkhead taking advantage of the distraction to escape. “You think wanton destruction is funny?” He grumbles, as your face reddens.

• “I think the act is funny,” you say, chin lifting defiantly as his temper sputters out. The act? Venting heavily, he stands and looms over where you’re perched on a cabinet sorting odds and ends small enough for you to lift. “That act,” you clarify, arms wrapping around a part to lift it and carry it over to a drawer. Completely unbothered as his optics narrow.

• Oh, he’s doubling down now. It’s obvious in the angry line of his mouth, the set of his jaw. “What do you know?” He growls in challenge. When you try to keep working, he lays his forearm in your way and you glare up at him.

• “I know you.” Shifting the part to balance it on your hip, you gesture with your other arm. “I’ve seen you stay up all night with someone hurt. Worrying. I know you like to act like everyone is bothering you so they leave you alone and stay away.”

• You’re angry. No, he realizes. Not just angry. Hurt and he hates it. Hates that he’s causing it. That you see right through him. How can he explain that the attitude is a defense to protect himself? That he’s so tired of getting close to other Autobots only to lose them to the war? It’s better to be unapproachable. You’re wrong about one thing, though, it’s not an act. The gruff, old medic has been his armor for so long, it is who he is. There’s nothing else left of the mech he’d been before. That knowledge burrows deep inside him, hurting even as he shifts his hand. Wanting to reach out a servo to you. But unable to.

Previous Next

[deedeeznoofs]

Can we please get some hcs of Sukuna and reader in the fairytale AU 🥹🥹

Absolutely amazing writing I loved every single thing of it!💖💖

Cottage Life

➺ Characters: Ryomen Sukuna, Fem!Reader  

➺ Word Count: 2.4k

➺ Genre: Fluff

➺ Content: Established Relationship, True Form!Sukuna, Princess!Reader, Swearing, Mentions of Murder

➺ A/N: Hi Anon! Thank you for the kind words and the request, I’d love to do this. I’m so glad that people enjoyed my Sukuna Fairy Tale AU so I’m 100% going to explore the idea more. On another note, this is also my first ever request🥹 I’m giggling and kicking my feet at the thought of people enjoying my writing enough to want to request specific things for me to create so I just want to take the time to say if you have an idea for me to write anything specific please do not hesitate to ask! Thank you all very very much. :)

➺ Synopsis: Small glimpses into your daily life with Sukuna in the deep woods. While not fully necessary to understand these little snippets, reading the beginning of your story with Sukuna would certainly enhance the experience. <3 

ꨄ Pre-Relationship: Secret Meetings ꨄ

➼ When you first began meeting with him regularly he was pretty mean to you and ignored you most of the time when you tried to talk to him. Despite this, he always kept you by his side anyways and didn’t deter you from meeting him.

➼ One time you straight up asked him why and he said it was because you brought food to him. While you accepted that answer, you knew inside that wasn’t really the case because he would still keep you around even after you both ate. 

➼ After warming up to you one of the things that you two bonded over was the nature in the forest. Sukuna would explain the wildlife to you since you were unfamiliar for a long time and he was to your surprise, a really good teacher. 

➼ He was able to answer any questions you had and went over every detail that he knew about the woods and was able to keep things interesting.

➼ When you both spent that night under the stars he was serious when he tried flirting with you but quickly realized what he did so he tried to play it off as a joke (he couldn’t be caught being too soft, after all). 

➼ Since he’s so much stronger and bigger than you (and literally everyone lol) he makes sure to be extra cautious and gentle around you because despite what he seems like, he doesn’t want to genuinely scare people, especially you.

➼ Speaking of, he has no idea why you aren’t scared of him and doesn’t understand why you act like the way he looks is no big deal. He doesn’t complain though and never mentions it to you. 

➼ One of the reasons you’re not scared of him is because he has saved your life more times than you could count, and why would you be scared of someone who continually keeps you alive, most of the time at his own expense? 

➼ “No, don't eat those berries, they’re poisonous…wha-what do you mean you already had five?!”

➼ He had to do some poison control that day… and it wasn’t very fun. 

➼ Every time he saves your life he always tells you that he’ll just leave you next time but you know that’s not true at all.

➼ You would also always get injured for stupid reasons so he’d take care of your wounds like he did when you both first officially met (he’d laugh first though)

➼ One of the days you visited you realized you had a talent for making flower crowns so you would spend a lot of time with him doing it while you both talked and walked around the woods.

➼ You mostly gave yours to him as a gift 

➼ He would grumble and act like he hated it but he would keep them on anyway and he kept all of them. After a while it grew into a small collection that he secretly cherishes. 

➼ Sukuna secretly (though, it wasn’t a secret to you) loved these meetings, and your visits were the highlight of his day every time.

ꨄ Early Relationship: Locked Away ꨄ

➼ Sukuna was confused at first when you stopped visiting him after sleeping with him. 

➼ He thought he did something wrong and you didn’t have a good time, or that he hurt you in some way. 

➼ He tried to put on the tough guy act at first and tried to convince himself that he didn’t like you all that much anyways. 

➼ Obviously, it wasn’t true and he’s a big softy on the inside so he gave into his temptations to see you. 

➼ When he saw the guards by your bedroom window, he realized what happened, and remembered that you always had to sneak out to see him. 

➼ Once he realized what actually happened he chastised himself for being so pouty and feeling sorry for himself instead of going to see you sooner. 

➼ To make up for this he goes to look at you every day as you stand by your window.

➼ Eventually, you noticed him and you both would spend the whole day just sitting with each other from afar. 

➼ Sometimes he would see you cry when he visited and his heart would break because he couldn’t wipe your tears away. 

➼ He has resisted the urge to attempt to fight the guards by your window more than he can count.

➼ Only reason he didn’t was his fear of making things worse for you if he did.

➼ On the day of your wedding, he noticed that you weren’t by your window like usual. 

➼ He learned his lesson about giving up on you too soon, so he decided instead of leaving you be, that he would go around the castle and look for you to see if you were okay. 

➼ Too invested in finding you, he didn’t realize that he stood a tad too close to some of the guards of your castle, leading to him getting caught by them. 

➼ That turned out to be a happy accident however, as they led him directly to you and gave you both the chance to run away together. 

➼ He was secretly proud of you stabbing someone so easily, but he’ll never tell you that directly.

ꨄ Long-Term Relationship: Cottage Life ꨄ

➼ When you both first found the cottage in the woods, it was in very rough shape. 

➼ It was dirty, barely had a roof, and there were broken windows everywhere. It was obvious that no one had lived there for some time. 

➼ Well… one man’s trash is another one’s treasure, and you both worked day and night to fix the cottage after first finding it. 

➼ You weren’t used to any physical discomfort at all, so it took a while for you to get used to these types of conditions. However, Sukuna always made sure to help you feel better.

➼ For example, one time it rained and you two got super wet inside your home due to the roof not being 100% secure. 

➼ It was tough for you. Not only were the two of you wet, but the inside of the home you both spent tons of time fixing up was flooded now as well. 

➼ Thankfully, Sukuna always found a way to turn unfortunate situations upside down. 

➼ “Come on, let’s go play in the mud, you didn’t eat enough dirt as a kid”

➼ You both immediately felt better once you played in the rain together… especially when Sukuna would be ever the romantic and lift you up to kiss you as water droplets fell on both of you.

➼ After months of sweat and tears, the cottage was finally fixed and cleaned. 

➼ It quickly became the love of your life, second only to Sukuna, and you both quickly settled into your humble abode.  

➼ You would always wake up first which would give you a few moments where you could stare at Sukuna’s sleeping face

➼ This was your favorite thing to do every morning, because you loved his calm expression more than anything.

➼ Sometimes he catches you and as he opens his eyes he would sarcastically go “Don’t stare. It’s weird” and laugh at your blushing face. 

➼ When this happens you would just lightly hit his chest and jokingly tell him to fuck off. 

➼ You would always give him a nice long kiss first thing every morning though.

➼ Despite you no longer being a Princess, he always makes sure to pamper you like one anyways.

➼ For example, whenever you have a craving for something that can’t be found in the wild he would make sure to get it at any costs. 

➼ This includes traveling hours to the closest villages and sneaking in to take their stuff. 

➼ You always get mad at him for doing this because it could put him in serious danger, but he laughs and tells you it’s fine and that in all his time living near humans he was only caught once and it was because of you. 

➼ To this, you roll your eyes but you thank him anyways for caring so much about you that he’d work so hard to satisfy such a small craving. 

➼ Whenever you’re busy doing something, he makes it a point to catch you off guard and hug you from behind with his four arms. 

➼ You’re never actually caught off guard and can sense him from miles away (he has very loud footsteps), but you pretend anyway to get him to keep doing it. 

➼ Most days you both spend your time walking around and exploring the nature around you both. However, on particularly lazy days, you two spend most of the day just cuddling together.

➼ One thing that stays the same is that every night both of you look at the stars like the first night you two spent together. 

➼ Unlike that first night though, Sukuna would always make it a point to go down on you while outside. 

➼ Also unlike that first night, there was no pressure to rush home so you two would fall asleep outside under the stars.

➼ One time though, you woke up screaming when you found a giant bug crawling on you. Sukuna took the bug away but would always make fun of you for it whenever you both decided to sleep outside. 

➼ Sukuna would tell you he loved you in the most random of times: Walking around, eating dinner, anywhere really. He would just look you in the eyes and quietly say “I love you”.

➼ This is always paired with small kisses all over your face that make you giggle because of how ticklish they are. 

➼ He was able to make you some pretty good dresses with the most random of cloth that he found around the woods. They weren’t the most formal, but they were certainly the best dresses you’ve ever had, being handmade by someone you loved.

➼ You once again tell him he doesn’t have to do all this but he makes you stuff anyway. 

➼ “Who said it was about you? This shit is fun as hell!” which made you laugh.

➼ Living together, you had to learn to do a lot of things related to maintaining a home like cleaning since you weren’t used to doing this stuff yourself.

➼ Sukuna told you that it’s fine and that he’d do it but you insisted that you should learn how to do things on your own now that you’re independent. 

➼ Being the good teacher that he is,  Sukuna would go on to teach you basic chores. 

➼ He would still tease you sometimes while teaching you though. Such as one time when you accidentally burned yourself by the fire trying to make dinner and he laughed when you kept flailing your hand everywhere. 

➼ He didn’t bully you for too long though, he was still worried of course. So, he made sure to heal the burns and help kiss them better. 

➼ You’re still able to make those flower crowns like before, so you guys would make flower crowns for each other all the time, and this time Sukuna didn’t hide how proud he was of them. 

➼ Everytime he gave you yours he’d give you a small kiss on the forehead before placing the crown on your head.

➼ You would try to do the same and would go on your tippy toes trying to reach him, but he’s hella tall so it doesn’t work. 

➼ “Jesus, you are 9 ft tall” 

➼ “Is that what they tell people? That’s not true at all” He would smile, crossing his arms as you attempted to jump up to place the crown on him. 

➼ “Well whatever you are I can’t reach you”

➼ He eventually lifts you up by your hips and lets you place the crown on him and give him his little forehead kiss. 

➼ Whenever you two are together, he always has his hands on you (he has four of course, and he needs to put them to good use). Whether it’s placing your hand on his, or having an arm around your waist, one hand always had to be on you. 

➼ You both have every meal together, from breakfast to dinner. They’re mostly quiet and you both just take the time to bask in each other’s presence. 

➼ From this, you learned just how much Sukuna LOVES to eat.

➼ You noticed this already before of course, since your relationship started with you bringing him food, but you really notice it once you begin eating together 

➼ Sometimes when he’s eating his food too quickly you tell him to take it easy in order to not upset his stomach 

➼ In response, he’d point to his smiling stomach mouth and go “Does he look upset to you?” 

➼ You’d just laugh at this point lol and leave him be with one last comment about how he seriously shouldn’t eat so fast 

➼ He listens for a bit and takes smaller bites, but he goes right back into it after a few minutes.

➼ You weren’t great at cooking at first, but Sukuna didn’t really care and ate your food anyways

➼ “Don’t worry I eat anything, this is trash though” he’d say with food in his mouth, only half joking.

➼ Once you got better at the skill, he always insisted for you to cook or for the two of you to cook together since it tasted better when you did it (when you knew what you were doing, of course). 

➼ In the back of his head, he always remembers the time you were taken away from him.

➼ He’s always worried about you being in danger again, but whenever he sees you asleep next to him he can’t help but think of anything but what he ever did to deserve you 

➼ Of course, from the moment you wake up to see his sleeping face, you can’t help but think the same thing about him.  

➼ Your life is a lot different now. Not only do you no longer have the title of Princess, but you’ve traded in your castle for a tiny cottage, and a crown for dirt-covered feet. Yet, you wouldn’t change it for the world… because for every painful burn and disgusting bug on you, is his smile, and that smile is worth more than any title.

-

A/N: Enjoyed seeing Fairy Tale!Sukuna? Just a reminder that if you haven’t read it yet, please feel free to read the story that these headcanons are based on!

[deathofacupid]

𝐖.𝐈.𝐏. 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ˎˊ˗ ➙ there's really no release date for these, i just wanted to get down my long work ideas. title and synopsis, for these, may change. this will be updated as i get new ideas. banner credits to @/bronzewasp.

good cop, bad cop. | cop!nanago x criminal!reader. ➙ they'll get the truth out of you, one way or another. as different their tactics, they agree on one thing; you don't deserve to be let off easy.

untitled. | ceo!nanami x officesiren!reader. ➙ you are the star of the show, if the show was multimillion dollar corporation. after all, if the ceo isn't going to do his job, then someone does, right? and, someone did. you. "did" being past tense, of course. when the new ceo comes in, it's a battle of power. a forlorn one, given that they're the clear winner. now, all you have to do get used to it.

all in jest. | jester!gojo x princess!reader. ➙ you're not sure which weighs more heavy on you, the call of duty - or the call of love. each path is yet a step away, one more a burden than the other. when your marriage is announced to the kingdom, well before it is to you, you realize you don't have much a choice. right?

save a horse, ride a cowboy. | cowboy!gojo x bartender!reader. ➙ satoru gojo is an enigma. specifically, an enigma that enjoys to sit at the bar for hours at a time, babbling nonsensically to you. as annoying as he can be, he is interesting. he's got that certain flair, eccentric as it is. certain something, you'd say. well, maybe you can fuck it out of him.

butterfly effect. | f1!sukugo x reader. HERE! ➙ no summary (yet), no thoughts (yet). just based solely off this art by @to00fu. ➙ lied, there are thoughts. this could go on of two way, one of which is fan!reader. ➙ or, established relationship, in which reader is caught between them, who're on different teams (bare with me, i am clueless about f1...). no angst, all fluff, maybe, perhaps smut.

always an angel, never a god. | angel!satoru x sacrifice!reader ➙ satoru is tired of being forgotten, of being left in the shadows of a god. as the world threatens to leave him behind, desperate times, well, they call for desperate measures. he just needs to know that the mortals below still love him. thrive for him. if they don't, he'll make them rue. no worries, though, he knows exactly what he wants as apology. you.

reclaimed thorns. | bullies!sukugo x reader. ➙ there's something so romantic about the fear they send your way. based off this art by @kcokaine.

butterfly. | creep!nerd!jo x bimbo!reader. ➙ satoru gojo doesn't collect art, not in the traditional sense. he collects moments. glimpses. snippets of you. a stolen laugh, a furrowed brow, the way the light catches your hair. he stores them away, in photo albums or digital files, but also in the meticulous catalog of his mind. he admires you, yes, the way a lepidopterist admires a rare butterfly. beautiful, delicate, and pinned beneath glass.

seven deadly sins. | jujutsu-kaisen men x reader. ➙ the men as the seven deadly sins, likely to be a series for each one. mostly, it would consist of angst/smut. ➙ satoru; pride, suguru; wrath, sukuna; greed, toji; envy, kento; sloth, choso; lust.

[candyheartedchy]

A deep analysis on SpongeBob and his struggle with fitting in because I think about this detail of the little sponge more than I should.

Let first start off with this little snippet from the pitch bible.

“He wants to fit in, but like a square peg in a round hole, he can’t.”

The rest in under the cut because this ended up being a bit long.

Throughout the series, especially in the earlier seasons, SpongeBob is always going out of his way to make himself appear either “cool” or “mature���. Heck the whole premise of the first movie is focused on his desire to prove himself that he’s not a “kid”. In both the episodes “Ripped Pants” and “MuscleBob BuffPants” he desperately tries to fit in. So much so that the attention he gets from ripping his pants and wearing the Anchor Arms quickly gets to his head, going to the point where he pretends to drown just to make folks laugh. And in both episodes, he starts to slip, realizing that he can’t keep these acts up for too long. Worried of losing his audience.

But he’s determined. He wants people to like him, and with Sandy just recently befriending him around the timeline of these two episodes, he wants to look cool to her. With Patrick being his friend since childhood, and mostly likely the only friend he had befriended before Sandy showed up, he didn’t want to take any chances to miss the opportunity to make another friend. Ironically Larry is in both episodes as well, who SpongeBob becomes jealous of due to the lobster���s own popularity and just being everything he isn’t. Same with the “Spongeguard on Duty” episode where he gets mistaken for a lifeguard by Larry and goes along with the act because it gives him attention.

Another incident that relates to SpongeBob’s struggle with his self image is the “Blackened Sponge” episode. It starts off of him having a dream where he’s rescuing someone, dreaming of being seen as this big, buff hero. After waking up from the dream, he accidentally gives himself a black eye and vows not to tell anyone how it happened to avoid being made fun of. He then goes on, almost bragging about the injury to a crowd, about his fake fight just so he can appear cool. But once Squidward comments about not caring about this, SpongeBob gets PISSED.

Self image is EXTREMELY important to him. He will do anything to avoid being ridiculed by others. He will not allow himself to be laughed at. No matter what.

Many times it shows that SpongeBob doesn’t handle public ridicule very well. Most of the time he seems either oblivious when folks (mostly Squidward) are insulting him or he just waves it off by misinterpreting it as something else. As of he’s pretending he doesn’t notice to avoid being reminded at how he’s really seen by people.

Countless times in the series, he’s shown to have a perfectionist attitude about how he does things. He has to do everything correctly or else.

Even with his own cousin, he gets frustrated from taking all the blame for Stanley’s mistakes to the point he ends up snapping.

This also is what causes him to fight with Patrick a lot. Because of SpongeBob’s obsession with being perfect, he clashes with his best friend’s laidback attitude on life. And yet there’ a kinship between the pair. He knows that Patrick can be affected by people comments just as much as he does, because they are both outcasts.

Which comes to SpongeBob’s struggle with loneliness.

In the episode “Gone”, we see SpongeBob waking up one day to find himself all alone in Bikini Bottom. He starts taking on the forms of his friends to live out all their lives while also getting attached to a boat for company. I believe he was experiencing his worst fear here. Being abandon. Which he already experienced this twice with his own pet snail, Gary, heartbrokenly trying to find him or watch as his snail grew attached to Patrick for a bit in another episode. He’s scared of being replaced or left alone.

This replacement issue comes up multiple times that tends to connects to what he’s good at. His job. The whole thing that kickstarts the first movie is the fact that Squidward gets the manager job. He also becomes so distraught when the original fry cook, Jim, shows up, causing SpongeBob to think he’s was getting replaced. He hates the idea of someone being better than him. Not out of pride, but out of fear. Especially at things he’s good at. Because if he’s not the best, what is he good for then?

He hates being seen as a joke. Constantly correcting folks whenever they try to belittle him.

He’s known as being optimistically annoying by folks, but that’s because he has to. It’s his way of coping. Even the first movie shows him crying and even getting “drunk” to distract himself from the reality that he will always be seen as a joke. He wants people to like him so BADLY because he knows he’s different. He knows that even when he’s genuinely being himself, others will criticize and judge him no matter what.

He wants to fit in, but deep down he knows he can’t.

[elvensorceress]

saturday snippet of longing and pining and being completely unaware of your own feelings! (feelings are hard, okay)

@tizniz @hippolotamus @livinginsunnyhell @eddiebabygirldiaz @spotsandsocks @thelikesofus @monsterrae1 @ronordmann @wh0rebehavi0r @epicbuddieficrecs @chaosandwolves @singitforthegirls @daffi-990 @lonelychicago @sofa-king-lame @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @blutterlie @sazanahashi @smilingbuckley @inell @bekkachaos @evaneds @rainbow-nerdss 💕

more of this 🥰

"I don’t know how anyone could not want you.”

Buck stares at him again with that piercing, soul-rending gaze that skewers directly through Eddie’s chest. But then Buck closes his eyes and shakes his head with a sardonic huff. “He’s straight. So. Doesn’t really work that way.”

Probably says something that Eddie’s first thought is, why not?

Why would it matter? Who would even care about sexuality if it were Buck offering his heart? Attraction is made up bullshit anyway. Who actually looks at someone and wants them when you know nothing about each other? Who wants to fuck just because they think someone is good looking? No one falls in love at first sight. It’s romanticized, telenovela fiction. And people lying to themselves because they’re lonely or want attention or orgasms or whatever. 

There’s a lot you can convince yourself of when you’re lonely, heartbroken, afraid you’ll die alone, afraid you’re a failure as a person, a husband, a partner. There’s a lot someone might do to be what other people want. There’s a lot that gets cut out and tucked away in order to be what you’re supposed to. 

All the more reason Eddie judges and dislikes anyone Buck dates. He’s totally justified. None of them get him and they don’t adequately appreciate him at all and Buck deserves all the love in the universe. At the very least, he deserves someone who will love him just as much and just as fiercely as Buck loves them. 

“Weren’t you ‘straight’ until Tommy?” Eddie asks. “Or— not that it was dependent on him, not that he did anything— but you thought you were straight until you realized you liked him. Right?” 

Buck looks at him, stares too hard at him for far too long and it makes goosebumps wash all over Eddie’s skin. The hair on the back of his neck prickles and swishing, churning flips through his stomach. 

“Yeah,” Buck answers quietly. “I don’t think that’s the case here though. Doesn’t matter. It’s not— It’s late. Too late. It’s really too late. We should sleep.”

Yeah. They should. Eddie has a long day of more packing to do tomorrow and another long distance tour with the realtor. Even if thoughts are whirling in his head. Too many thoughts. 

How does Buck know it’s unrequited? How does he know what he’s feeling now if he didn’t before? Did something change? How the hell would Tommy supposedly know if Buck didn’t know? 

How does Buck feel when he likes someone? 

How does anyone feel when they like someone? How do you know if you do? Is there supposed to be something you feel when you’re looking at someone beautiful? How would you know they’re beautiful if all you know about them is how they look? 

How do you feel anything for someone? Especially if you don’t know them? People say sex is better with someone you love, but is that more romanticized bullshit? Probably. Sex is overrated honestly. It’s fine. Mostly. Just. Not what everyone seems to say it is. Nothing earth shattering or life changing. Nothing all that intimate either. Not technically. It’s just distant, avoidant, using each other for a moment of relief. He and Shannon did it so they didn’t have to talk. When they didn’t want to talk or actually be close. They didn’t have to go on dates or bare their souls or anything. They could just take off some clothes. 

Isn’t that what everyone does? Isn’t that the difference between dating someone versus being friends with them? 

Is it supposed to be different? Is that why people like sex? Because it’s different for them? 

Does anyone actually feel the kinds of intense, fervent, passionate emotions that people make up stories about? Isn’t romance just another fantasy? Like fairy tale magic and otherworldly phenomena? Like dragons and unicorns and mythical creatures? It’s a nice fantasy, but still a fantasy. None of it is real. 

Love isn’t sex or attraction or beautiful people being beautiful. None of that is love. 

Love is sacrifice. Connection. It’s blood and battle and being torn apart. Giving up everything because there’s no alternative. Because you’re not whole anymore without the person you love. They’re part of you. So losing them is losing yourself. 

Is that all love is? Loss? 

Eddie reaches out and holds onto Buck’s shoulder. They should sleep. He’s tired, too. But there’s heaviness in his chest and a swirl of despair whirlpooling inside him. It’s small now, but it’s been growing and he needs to hold onto Buck. 

When it’s not enough to just grip his shoulder, Eddie lets his hand slide down until it’s again resting on Buck’s chest and he can gently rub back and forth a few times. He hopes it’s comforting. He hopes Buck knows he’s not alone. Eddie won’t let him be alone. Someone will love Buck the way he should be. 

A wave of envious aching crashes through Eddie’s chest and he swallows hard. Buck should be loved. Buck is loved. Maybe not the way he wants. But Eddie loves him. Every beat, every breath, every single shred of his soul holds love for Buck. It might not be enough, but it is there. Eddie would love him until Buck finds someone he wants who loves him properly. 

Eddie would love him after that, too. Even when Buck is happy and settled and doesn’t need him anymore. 

Buck takes Eddie’s hand and holds it tightly as he closes his eyes. He doesn’t turn back around. And he doesn’t let go. 

Eddie just wants to inch closer and hold tighter. 

There’s something faded, slipping away like tides and wet sand through his fingers. 

Why can’t he keep this?

Why can’t this be the answer? Why can’t Eddie love him the way he wants? Why can’t Buck love Eddie this way? Why can’t they be in love with each other? 

[rhynestonez]

Unbroken

Post civil war! Bucky X Reader

Here’s a small snippet of this one shot I’m working on. Hopefully it’ll be done soon.

Steve emerged through the fog—cut-up and dirt-covered, but steady, determined. His shield was strapped across his back, his eyes scanning the space before settling on you.

He exhaled—just a breath, but it sounded like relief.

“You always show up late?” he asked, stepping closer.

You raised a brow. “You’re welcome.”

Sam chuckled low from where he leaned against the jet ramp. “She took out Spider-Boy, cut us free, and walked off without saying more than three words.”

Steve gave you a look. “That sounds about right.”

You gave a half-shrug and turned your gaze toward the far end of the hangar—where Bucky stood alone, watching from the shadows, silent and still.

Steve followed your line of sight.

“He can’t stay here.” he said quietly. “The longer he’s exposed, the harder it’ll be to keep him safe.”

Sam shifted. “You got any ideas? Because I’m fresh out.”

Silence stretched for a beat.

Then, you said “Wakanda.”

Sam blinked. “Wakanda?”

Steve furrowed his brow. “That’s… not exactly a neutral option.”

You didn’t look at either of them. “I’ve been living there.”

That caught Steve off guard. “Since when?”

“Since Sokovia.” A pause. “Off the grid. Off radar. T’Challa and I have… history.”

“Good history?” Sam asked, skeptical.

You finally turned toward them, cool and unbothered. “He owes me a favor.”

Steve hesitated. “You’d really ask him to take Bucky in?”

You met Steve’s eyes, something colder and heavier settling in your tone. “For you? Yes. For him?” Your glance flicked—just briefly—to where Bucky stood. “Not a chance.”

Steve’s expression softened slightly, the corners of his mouth almost tilting upward.

“You’re serious?” he asked.

You nodded once. “You’ll have to come, too. He won’t hand anything over unless he sees your face.”

Bucky still hadn’t moved. Hadn’t spoken. But you felt his eyes on you like a weight—silent, watching, careful.

You didn’t return the look.

Didn’t give him the satisfaction.

You turned toward the Quinjet ramp. “We need to leave before someone realizes who walked out of that mess alive.”

Steve placed a hand briefly on your shoulder. “Thank you.”

You didn’t respond.

Sam made his way up the ramp after you. Steve followed.

Bucky lingered.

Only when you were nearly inside the Quinjet did you finally glance back over your shoulder—just for a second.

Eyes met. Yours and his.

Brief. Quiet. Sharp as a knife.

Then you turned away again, disappearing into the ship.

The Quinjet was quiet.

Mostly.

Steve and Sam sat across from each other near the cockpit, deep in low conversation—something about tracking the rest of the team, staying ahead of the next UN alert. Their voices filled the space in a gentle rhythm, the kind of calm that only came after surviving something very stupid.

You were across the cabin, strapped into a seat, arms crossed, one leg casually propped up— foot tapping faintly against the edge of the hull.

Bucky sat across from you.

Same silence. Same locked position.

And he was staring.

Not aggressively. Not even suspiciously. Just—watching. Almost like he was trying to solve a puzzle with no edges.

You met his gaze without flinching. Your expression flat. Uninterested. A blink. That’s all he got.

But he didn’t stop.

Neither did you.

Seconds stretched.

He shifted slightly, clearly trying to make it look casual. It wasn’t.

You quirked a brow. Barely. But enough to say What?

Still, not a word passed between you.

And somehow, that only made it worse.

Sam kept talking. “I’m just saying, if you have to fight a kid with bug powers, maybe we draw straws next time. ‘Cause I’m not getting webbed to a damn wall again.”

Steve chuckled. “You weren’t even stuck that long.”

“Oh I’m sorry, Cap, is that your minimum standard now? ‘Not stuck that long’?”

No one noticed the stare-off in the back of the ship.

You blinked slowly, tilting your head the slightest bit—like you were done with this game.

Bucky didn’t blink at all.

Childish. Tense. Ridiculous.

You finally rolled your eyes and looked away, muttering under your breath “Weirdo.”

But just loud enough that he’d hear.

His lip twitched.

Barely.

[lyzelky]

The Crate

*Walks into room, collapses on face* It's been 3000 years but I finally finished it. Here you go! (If you noticed the artstyle changed halfway through, no you didn't, lmao) A comic featuring Astarion shooting his shot, and Tav missing the point entirely. Also a bonus snippet of my long fic where this comic is inspired by!

Local asshole already smitten, just doesn't realize it yet.

"Come on,” She says brightly to Astarion, “I think I saw some crates this way.” She half expects the elf to whine and request to rest alongside the others, but surprisingly he does as she asks. “So…what exactly, are we looking for?” He asks as she navigates her way towards a small pile of boxes. “Food, water… medicine, hopefully a bedroll or two.” She shrugs and opens one eagerly, only to wilt in disappointment when all she finds is rags. "Are you going to help or just stand there, by the way?” Astarion has not moved to actually assist with any of the actual searching; instead he’s chosen to lean against a nearby wall and observe. “I’m not just…standing here,” He scoffs, “I’m keeping watch.” “On what?” She asks flatly, “Afraid that there’s going to be some more gnomes with knives in these boxes?” This actually pulls a small huff of laughter from him. “No darling, but I am keeping an eye on you.” She opens another box and scowls down at it’s junk contents before what he’s said hits her. Tav looks up at him, mostly confused and honestly a little hurt. “I… Do you think I’m going to steal supplies, or something?” He’s still wearing that smirk— but at her question something in it falters, one sculpted brow quirking as he considers her. “…No, darling. I don’t think you’ve got that in you.” His tone is for once quite matter-of-fact, and tinged with the barest hint of amusement. Coupled with the strange way he continues to stare at her, it becomes increasingly apparent that some type of social cue has soared clear over her head.

Thank you all for reading!! So glad to have this done with, it was literally keeping me up at night. I've got some more stuffed planned, though maybe not as long as this, lol.

[phantoms-lair]

Robin Roulette

(While this Snippet is eventually going to slot in the Sanctuary AU (AKA Red Hood takes in Danny and Valerie after they escape the GIW), which is DcxDP, the snippet itself is pure Batman, hence the lack of DCxDP tag)

~

It was widely known among the streets that there had been six Robins. Hard to miss when a person would going missing for various lengths of time and then come back suddenly shorter.

The first was the First. Flippy little thing, but don't let the jokes fool you, he was viscous. There was a certified mean streak under that joyful little face, even if no one outside the goons would believe it.

Second was Happy Robin. Like, he wasn't a pushover by any means, kid fought dirty as sin, but there was so much joy in him that it accidently spread to the Bat! The Happy Robin was good times in Gotham.

Then Joker ruined it for everyone.

This brought about the No Robin era. People did not talk about the No Robin era. People did not think about the No Robin era. As if remembering it too much would bring it back and no one wanted that.

Third Robin was The Kid. Not to say he was younger, had less quips, or fought anywhere near less viscously with that staff of his. But he kind of had the vibe of a little kid in his brothers hand me downs. And if the Bat wasn't as gentle as he'd once been, he was at least miles better than the No Robin era.

The Kid wad been the first to leave with no warning. First had shouting matches with Batman that spanned rooftops, and Happy...rest in peace. But the Kid was just suddenly gone with no explanation. Most held their breath, fearing another No Robin era, but instead Girl Robin came along.

Girl Robin was, to but it bluntly, a treat. She had zero respect for Batman. She would sass him at the drop of a hat, had no fear in telling him what she really thought about him and his attitude. Yeah, she foiled plans with the best of them, kicked their asses, but when she caught you there was always the small hope you'd get to hear some cutting remark thrown at Batman.

No one expected Girl Robin to last long. Not because she wasn't capable, but because Batman would only tolerate the disrespect for so long. There were bets about how long till he'd fire her and a small hope she'd become an independent vigilante afterwards just so they could continue to hear her put Batman in his place.

Then Sionis repeated Joker's little stunt and had the man learned nothing?! Not only had he deprived them of hearing Batman get consistently insulted by a kid half his age, this was how you get a No Robin Era! NO ONE WANTED THAT! It was also quietly wondered if Sionis realized that was why it was harder for him to find henchpeople afterwards.

Thankfully soon after the loss of Girl Robin, came Responsible Robin (also the only time Robin became taller rather than shorter). Responsible Robin had a grimness to him and the general opinion was after Girl Robin Batman had wanted a more serious partner. Some thought he was The Kid after having been put out to pasture to grow up some. But that was mostly because both use staffs and you couldn't say two people were the same because they used the same weapon. That's like saying anyone in Gotham who used a tommygun was Scarface/The Puppeteer.

Responsible Robin also he the quickest switchover. One night he was out, the next night Sword Robin was. Sword Robin was the shortest Robin and also the one who the most seemed like he was waiting for an excuse to snap and kill people. Like Batman was the only thing holding him back. He seemed to have eased up, but they didn't trust like that. Especially not after some saw him cutting Red Robin's line.

(The current rumor was Red Robin had been Responsible Robin. Sword Robin had thought he'd killed him to take his place, but he survived and came back with a new name.)

This was common knowledge, of course. But what the Hoodlums were coming to grips with, in the light of what was overheard snarled between Batman and their Boss, was that their Boss was Batman's son. And if their boss was Batman's son he had to be Robin. But which one?

Sword Robin was out on account of still being active, the wrong skin color, and only coming up to Hood's knees. Girl Robin and Happy Robin were also out on account of being very dead. And with Responsible Robin generally believed to be Red Robin that only left two options, The Kid, and The First. And really, only one of those made sense. The viciousness, the willingness to go head to head with the Bat, those were all hallmarks of the very first Robin.

And really, the more they thought about it the more it made sense. Sure he was less flippy, but the simple act of growing up put paid to many a gymnast's skills. You simply couldn't be as flippy when you're built like a brick shithouse. Maybe if you had a more svelte physique like Nightwing, which might have been a bone of contention.

Hood had often said he'd stolen the name from Joker because Joker had stolen something from him. Something like, say, a little brother. It even explained why Hood hated the thought of more Robins. This was something he'd created for himself to do good in and the Bat was using it as a mantle for child soldiers, even after it had gotten his precious Happy brother killed. (And Girl Robin, may she be sassing Batman still from Heaven.)

The next question, of course, was what to do with that knowledge? Someone suggested being very complimentary of the first Robin, but thankfully was put in his place by the reminder that those memories were likely now very bitter. And the Boss would likely not be happy to even know he'd been overheard admitting Batman was someone he'd once called Dad.

Then Barney pointed out the number of times Batman had been...very violent in his stopping of Hood, and un unsurprised Hood seemed by it. And Grace wondered about the type of training Sword Robin had been put through to make him like That™.

And a consensus was reached. Sure they couldn't take Batman down in a fight. But they could tank his reputation - by reveling how he treated his kids.

Boss said 'No More Dead Robin's', and they were going to make it happen! They'd save his younger siblings or die trying!

[spacedlexi]

Oh god I must know everything about your modern au 😫🙏

mostly i just wanted to explore the idea of vi meeting clem while her relationship with minnie is falling apart and shes desperately trying to pick up the pieces (while minnie lets her do it all by herself). she needs to learn to let go and to stop trying to save minnie from her own self destruction. to not be scared of change and to choose someone who matches the effort she puts in. for the real longers and yearners out there. who also love mess :)

louis meets clem and gets her to come to a party hes hosting. there she meets vi, who she immediately hits it off with (after vi apologizes (is forced to by louis) for a rude introduction), but minnie interrupts them before clem has the chance to ask her out. realizing vi is already taken, clem gives louis his chance, hoping to move on. and well :) as clem and vi become closer friends they realize all they really want is each other 😏 though theyll try so hard to deny it. theyre gonna try to make their relationships work until they cant anymore 😭

it only exists as a (pretty long) script in my notes app. i dont trust the general fandom public to be normal about characters struggling with their relationships especially when they end in breakups 😭 i cant even post about vi and minnies canon messy relationship without people being weird about it so i just keep it to myself 🙄 but if people are actually interested maybe i'll post more 😏

heres some snippets. this whole doc is really rough because i never planned on sharing any of it but i will because you asked nicely :) first one is the party from the illustration and the second is clem and vi getting the chance to hang out one on one for the first time

minnie is pretty absent in her relationship with vi. but when clem shows up, vi starts to change. clem inspires vi to do and be better. to want better for herself. and minnie is threatened by that :) since she never expected vi to ever move on from her