#look who remembered a keep reading this time!

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Reader goes on a beach vacation with Joel after her father breaks his leg. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: The devil works fast but I work faster. New multi chapter smut fic inspired by those damn new Pedro pics in the works…enjoy part 1! I haven't planned all of the smut scenes, so if you have any requests for specific kinks/scenes, do let me know!

He’s dead fucking wrong. You love your father, enough to not immediately say no, but he’s wrong. It’s true you could use a girls’ trip, perhaps even a couple of days out of town with your Dad, and he’s not entirely off about university being the death of you, kiddo – you’ve spent one too many nights inhaling coffee and cramming for your finals. The idea of an all-inclusive trip is tempting, given the fact that all you manage to eat these days is pasta and store-bought pesto, if that.

Nevertheless, you need to keep studying, there’s less than two weeks left until your exams, and although the trip is only a couple of days, you don’t know Joel.

Sure, you’ve been to his barbecues, and he let you use his bike one year when yours was stolen and your Dad refused to buy you a new one, because you should have locked it up in the first place. You know how he patched up your Dad after the divorce – you never worried about your mother, who was heartbroken, but able to talk about it to her family and friends. Your Dad was the one you spent sleepless nights over. The way the beer bottles accumulated in his garage, how distant he seemed on the phone. You know it was Joel who looked after him, made sure he left the house and had anything edible inside it. You’re grateful for it, you are, but you don’t really know him. For most of your life, he has been a friendly smile and wave over a fence, and you’re shy around people you know much better than the occasional hey kid, you back for the summer? or if you see your Dad, tell him I borrowed his screwdriver, I’ll put it back tomorrow.

You do feel slightly guilty your Dad can’t go on his trip. He broke his leg, and although it’s not entirely your fault he slipped, you had been the one to mop the stairs right before the accident. As much as your Dad was looking forward to his vacation, after a week he had to admit a beach holiday would be little fun with a whole leg in plaster.

You sigh, staring at your phone screen, tapping on it every once in a while to keep it from turning black. He’s expecting an answer soon, you know he is. Who the hell books non-refundable trips anyway? When you get the time, you’ll need to tell him about a lovely invention that is insurance.

You glance over at the stack of unfinished coursework on your desk, your laptop taunting you with its quiet – no responses to the millions of job applications you have sent out have come through. At this rate, you’ll be jobless in a couple of months, when you finish your degree. You’ll have to live with either of your parents forever, no money for any sort of vacation whatsoever.

"Oh, screw it,“ you mutter, unlocking your phone, and typing quickly.

I’ll do it. Only because my A+ cleaning is the reason you can’t go. Tell Joel to bring something to read, I need to study.

***

"It’d be a shame if it went to waste, kiddo, I’m glad you’re doing this.“

"Yeah,“ you answer, thinking of the endless powerpoint slides you haven’t even looked at yet. "Maybe studying at the beach works wonders.“

There’s a knock on the door, and you move to open it, your Dad chained to his chair by his broken leg. You’re not particularly excited about the smalltalk you’ll have to make with your Dad’s friend, but if you remember correctly, Joel is as much the quiet type as you are, and might actually appreciate your studying. Great, you think, at least one of us will enjoy it, then.

When you open the door, the first thing that strikes you is how hard you find it to envision Joel at the beach – he’s all mountains and trees to you, with his lumberjack boots and flannel shirt. His smile is friendly, and only gains warmth when he notices the critical look you give his outfit.

"I know,“ he says, voice deep and quiet, "I’m king of dressing for the occasion.“

You grin, and open the door wider.

"Come on in. Dad’s in the living room. What’s with the…uh…“

Your voice trails off, as you gesture towards his distinctly un-vacationy clothes.

"Thought you might bail,“ Joel answers easily, stepping into the house. "Can’t imagine you’re overly thrilled about this.“

You think about denying it, but this is your chance to come clean about how you would much prefer keeping to yourself and preparing for your finals, so you sigh.

"Well, it’s kinda my fault Dad was, like, almost paralyzed from the neck down, so I figured the least I could do was not let his trip go to waste. I’ve got finals in two weeks, so the timing is…suboptimal.“

"Yeah, your Dad said. I brought reading material, so I won’t bother you too much.“

He’s easy, you realize. Easy to talk to, and easy to accept your reluctance to bond with an almost-stranger, quick to make you feel comfortable by hinting at that boundary. You smile back, and are struck by how he holds your eye contact until you break it yourself, nodding towards your suitcase.

"Think this will fit inside the car?“

"Sure,“ he answers, "I’ve got a Bronco.“

You have no idea what that means, but you assume it’s a good thing, so you smile vaguely.

"It’s an SUV,“ Joel explains with a hint of good-natured amusement in his voice.

"Right,“ you say, attempting to overplay your obvious lack in car-knowledge, "SUV. One of the big ones.“

It makes Joel smile again, and you notice the wrinkles around his eyes that make his face look all sunny. 

"Yeah,“ he says. "One of the big ones.“

You lead him into the living room to say good-bye to your Dad, who’s expression is a weird mixture of sombre and excited at the sight of his daughter and best friend getting ready to drive to the airport.

"Take care of her, Joel,“ he says, when you’re getting ready to leave.

"Don’t worry,“ Joel answers with a pat to your father’s arm. "I’ve got her.“

"I’m twenty-three,“ you remind your father, "I’ve done more dangerous things than a trip to the beach.“

"Yeah, but you’re still my little girl,“ he answers with a smile, squeezing your hand. You squeeze back, though his comment irritates you.

"See ya, Dad. Call me if something’s wrong with your leg, alright?“

"Sure, kiddo. Have fun, you two, and bring me a seashell.“

Joel grins at the open envy on your Dad’s face.

"We’ll go on another trip next year,“ he says in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Yeah, yeah,“ your Dad answers, glancing at his watch. "Better get going, or you’ll miss the flight.“

"We’ll be fine, Joel’s got a fast car,“ you argue, "A Bronco. That’s an SUV.“

Joel snorts.

***

Joel lets you take the window seat and plops down next to you, legs slightly spread so as to fit into the little space the two of you have. His leg nudges yours, and he pulls it back immediately, though you can see how uncomfortable it must be with his knees pressing into the seat in front of him. You move your legs towards the window with a glance at Joel, who looks grateful and is able to relax his muscles into a more comfortable position without invading your space.

"Thanks,“ he mutters, "Fucking hate flying.“

So do you, though not because you’re too big to fit into the space, and not because you’re afraid – mostly because it’s boring. Sure, takeoff is exciting, but you get nauseous from watching movies and the plane is much too loud to really enjoy your music the way you would lying on your bed at home. You could study, you suppose, but you tell yourself you wouldn’t be able to concentrate and kick your backpack further under your seat. Joel notices and chuckles.

"Finals, huh? You almost done with your degree?“

You can’t imagine him finding your boring university struggles interesting, but you’re not exactly fantastic at smalltalk, so you take the conversation he’s offering you.

"I’ve got one more year, but I’ve got to do a six month internship, and write my thesis, so yeah, this is, like, the last of my regular classes and exams.“

"You enjoy it?“

The question is strikingly honest, like he really wants to know, like it’s fine if you don’t. You look at him, his eyes already on your face, and for a second you think how handsome he is. You didn’t notice before, when he was just the owner of a bike you could conveniently borrow, when life was all skinned knees and staying up till sun-down. Now, he looks like an equal, like someone who wants to know about your life, someone you want to know about yourself. The change is a little unsettling, but thrilling. You realize you haven’t answered him, so you clear your throat.

"Sure, it’s alright. Not what I would have done if money didn’t matter, but it does, so…I can be content with it.“

Joel considers this, eyes still lingering on your face, as the plane starts speeding up for takeoff.

"What would you do if money didn’t matter?“

You shrug, and smile to yourself.

"Creative writing, maybe. Or English lit.“

"You always were the smart one in your family,“ Joel answers with a chuckle.

You glance at him, and feel a pang of something warm in your stomach as he compliments you. When the plane takes off, you look out of the window, but get the feeling Joel’s eyes keep looking at you. It makes your skin prickle, though not at all unpleasantly.

***

You get to the hotel when the sun is high in the sky, burning the top of your head and making you long for a shower and an ice-cold coke. Joel courteously carries your suitcase and although you don’t want to inconvenience him, you don’t mind the way his muscles bulge under the weight, arms straining against the navy shirt he had underneath his flannel. You wonder how he’s not suffocating in the heat, wearing his thick jeans and boots.

When you get to the front desk, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, searching for his reservation details with furrowed brows. You smile when you notice he uses two hands to scroll. It takes him a couple of minutes, cursing under his breath, and you smile at the lady, who smiles back, patiently waiting for Joel to find the right email.

"Sorry,“ you say to her, and try to catch a glimpse at Joel’s phone, so as to figure out what’s taking him so long. "Need some help?“

He throws you an offended look that makes you grin, and finally shows the lady his phone. She smiles, types something into her computer and gets out two room keys.

"Go easy on your Daddy, it’s easier when you grew up with the internet,“ she says, handing you each a keycard. You feel Joel stiffen beside you, and your stomach flutters.

"Here’s your keycards, you’re on the third floor. Enjoy your stay!“

"Thanks,“ Joel mumbles, taking the cards and handing them to you, before grabbing the two suitcases. He huffs, when you walk around a corner and towards the elevators.

"She was makin’ fun of me,“ he says accusingly when the lady is out of earshot, as if that would be your fault. You snort, all of a sudden feeling giddy at the prospect of being at the beach soon, your holiday only a couple of minutes away.

"I don’t think so, she was trying to help you by blaming your incompetence on your age,“ you say, Joel looking at you like he can’t believe what you said.

"Sorry.“ Your voice is quivering with amusement at how offended he is. "Daddy.“

That makes him clear his throat, and if your eyes aren’t playing a trick on you, his cheeks turn a shade darker.��Bingo.

"Don’t say shit like that,“ Joel grumbles, "’M not that old.“

"How old are you, then?“

"Why?“, he asks, eyes meeting yours, and suddenly you’re the one blushing, your stomach swirling with something you definitely should not be feeling for your Dad’s best friend. Joel shakes his head. "Don’t start something neither of us can finish, kid.“

It’s just an offhand-comment about the way you jokingly flirted, but you feel all bashful all of a sudden. His mention of there being something to potentially start, the fact that the possibility even crossed his mind…when you look up at him again and watch him press a button on the elevator, you study the grey patches in his beard, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches as you’re waiting, his thick fingers drumming against the handle of his suitcase. It’s not what you expected to happen, but Joel’s got you intrigued.

***

You both agree to take a shower, get settled in and meet outside the rooms in half an hour – they’re neighboring, so it’s not far. You’re too lazy to properly unpack, so you just grab a bikini and a comfortable white sundress to change into after your shower. The water is welcome on your skin, washing away the grit and sweat of the hours spent on the plane, and you feel like a new person when you step out of the bathroom. You put on sandals and a pair of sunglasses, grab sunscreen, your books and notes for class, and a bottle of water, and throw it all into your beach bag, then head for the door. Joel is already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite your door wearing a different shirt, red swimming trunks and dark sunglasses. He’s got a towel thrown over his shoulder and you grin.

"Raw-dogging the beach?“, you ask, which makes him furrow his brows.

"The hell does that mean?“

You snort at his obvious annoyance at your innuendo.

"It means you’re only bringing a towel, nothing to entertain yourself with,“ you explain, gesturing towards your bag. Joel shakes his head, still frowning.

"I’m going to the beach, not the library,“ he answers, and starts walking towards the elevators, his flip-flops making their soft sound on the floor. Your gaze flickers down towards his legs, his swimming trunks revealing tan thighs.

"Comin’?“

You swallow, and catch up with him.

***

He’s fucking gorgeous. It’s a problem, how gorgeous he is, tan torso, swimming trunks low on his hips, bits of dark hair scattered across his chest and soft belly. His shoulders are wide, like they were made for swimming, his hair glistening as he shakes like a wet dog when he comes up for air. You have been staring at the same page for far too long now, but there’s no way Joel is able to notice your staring, not when you’re wearing your sunglasses and he’s busy swimming.

You know it’s a bad idea, that there’s no good that can come from crushing on a man twice your age, more than that, even. You know he must surely see the girl who came over to borrow his bike with tears of anger in her eyes every time he looks at you, and you know how much he respects your father.

Still, you are allowed to have fun. You’re doing this for your Dad more than anything, and you’ve been bending over backwards trying to make him proud with your good grades, so if there’s something you’re able to get out of this trip, you figure you’re at least allowed to look. And anyway, it’s not hurting anyone. It’s just natural, the half-naked bodies and blissful relaxation would affect anyone who has spent the last four months cramped up in a little dorm room.

You watch Joel swim towards the beach again, rising out of the water like some sort of Poseidon sent to personally make this trip unbearable for you. You think of his reaction when you teasingly called him Daddy, and swallow.

"Fuck,“ you mumble to yourself, when he tugs on his swimming trunks so that they don’t slide over his hips, dripping water onto the dry sand all around him. He smiles at you as he makes his way over to your spot – two deckchairs shielded by a parasol.

"Wow,“ Joel says sarcastically, when he looks at your book, still on page two. "Real page turner, huh?“

You blush, and open your mouth to defend yourself, but Joel’s expression softens, all biting humor gone, as he grabs his towel.

"You’re allowed to take a break from studying, you know?“

You watch him dry himself off, big hands rubbing the towel over his chest and stomach, leaving his legs to dry on their own, as he lays down on his deckchair.

"Easy to say, you’re not the one who has to face my Dad if you fail all your exams.“

Joel turns his head towards you, and you’re struck by how gentle his expression is.

"I know he can be a hard ass, but I guarantee you you’re not goin’ to fail all your exams, kid.“

You sigh and shrug.

"He give you a hard time ’cause of your grades?“

"No,“ you answer quickly, all of a sudden feeling defensive of your father. "I just wanna…make him proud.“

Joel smiles.

"I know for a fact you’re doin’ that without even tryin’. And anyway, it’s good to take breaks. Let’s your brain cool off and absorb information much better afterwards.“

Can’t argue with that logic, you think and close your book with a thud. Joel grabs it from you and throws it into your beach bag.

"I grant you two hours of studying each day,“ he says, and you have to laugh. "The rest is for having fun, gettin’ tan and drinkin’ cocktails."

It’s preposterous, that he would order you around like that after you told him you need to study, back before you even made it to the airport. But something is different here, away from your desk, and your Dad’s broken leg (and the rest of him, for that matter). Joel and you have fallen into an easy dynamic, and although it’s unusual, your reservations are gone. You’re actually looking forward to spending time with him, and not just because of the way his belly nudges against the waistband of his swimming trunks, or how his accent seems to thicken in the sun.

"Fine,“ you say, "but you’re paying for my tuition if I do end up failing, Miller.“

He grins at you.

[reilemon]

Return To You

♡︎ synopsis: You rely on Sylus to keep you warm on a winter getaway.

♡︎pairing: Sylus x fem!reader

♡︎ tags: fluff, oral (female receiving), love making (for a change)

♡︎ word count: 6.1k

♡︎ a/n: some cute holiday fluff for @hesperisms 💕✨

♡︎ Not beta read, but I'm still giving a shoutout to my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎.

divider by @anitalenia

The town square looks like a winter wonderland straight out of a postcard. Fairy lights shimmer like little stars from every tree, their warm glow reflected on the thin snowy blanket and salt-covered cobblestones. The air carries the sweet scent of roasted chestnuts, caramel apples, and spiced mulled wine – the aromas making your mouth water with every step as you lead, or better yet, drag Sylus towards the ice rink. You’d been eyeing the rink all night, and now, with only a handful of skaters, it’s the perfect time to venture out.

You turn to Sylus who is dressed impeccably, as always, his coat tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders. You can’t help but smile at his rosy cheeks and nose, the color from the winter air making him look less intimidating. Though, he still stands out in this festive setting.

"You’ve been indulging me all day," you say, leaning closer to him, pulling his focus back to you. "I think it’s time to try something fun together."

He raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking in a small, amused smirk. "And your idea of fun is strapping blades to our feet and risking broken bones?"

You laugh. "C’mon, it’s almost empty!" You nod towards the skate rental stand. “Let’s go and get our skates!”

"Our?" he repeats. "I’m more than happy to watch you make a spectacle of yourself while I stay safely on solid ground."

You pout, crossing your arms over your winter coat. "That’s not fair. I’m not good at this, and I need someone strong to keep me upright."

Sylus doesn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze shifting back to the ice rink, then to you, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Don’t tell me you’ve never ice-skated before," you tease, a grin tugging at your lips.

"I didn’t say that," he replies smoothly. "I’m simply saying I prefer to observe."

"That’s just a fancy way of saying you’re bad at it," you counter and playfully nudge his side with your elbow. "Please, Sylus? It’ll be fun. I promise not to let go of your hand."

His mouth opens as if to argue, but your wide-eyed, pleading look stops him. He exhales slowly, a puff of mist curling in the air between you, and shakes his head with the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

"Fine," he mutters. "But if I fall, you’re to blame."

You beam at him, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the skate rental stand. "Deal! But I’m warning you now—I’m terrible at this, so we might both fall."

As the cheerful attendant hands over your skates, you glance up at Sylus.

"Thank you," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

"Don’t thank me yet," he replies, as he looks at the skates. "Let’s see if we survive this first."

As you step onto the rink, Sylus’ grip on your hand tightens, the grip of his gloved hand firm and his presence reassuring against the slippery unpredictability of the ice. He steps further, leading you slowly with him. His fitness and natural grace give him an edge, but you can tell by the slight furrow in his brow that he’s carefully adjusting to the sensation of skating.

"You need to keep your knees slightly bent," Sylus instructs as he glances down at you wobbling by his side.

You giggle nervously, your free hand flailing slightly for balance. "Easier said than done! This is harder than I remember."

He watches you with a mixture of amusement and focus as you take a cautious step forward. "Relax. Lean forward slightly— I know you can do it."

Following his instructions, you do as you’re told, feeling a little more stable as you start to glide, although slowly. Sylus moves alongside you, his strides smooth and confident now, his hand never letting go of yours.

"You’re a natural," you tease, grinning up at him.

"Hardly," he replies with a small smirk. "But at least one of us needs to stay upright."

The sound of your laughter fills the crisp air as you grow bolder, gliding a little faster, though your feet still wobble occasionally. Sylus keeps up with you effortlessly, his focus shifting between your movements and the icy terrain ahead. At one point, as you make a sharper turn, your skate catches slightly, making you stumble. Before you can hit the ice, Sylus’ arm wraps securely around your waist, pulling you close.

"Careful, kitten." he murmurs, as he steadies you.

You laugh, your cheeks flushed from the cold and him. "Thank you. You’re like my personal safety net."

Sylus’ lips twitch in a faint smile, but he says nothing, his hand lingering on your waist for a moment longer before he releases you. Feeling emboldened after a few minutes of smooth gliding, you try to add a little twist, lifting your arms and attempting a small spin. The move immediately throws you off balance, and before you can topple over, Sylus catches you again, his grip firm but careful.

"No spins," he says firmly, leaving no room for negotiation.

"But—"

"You’re going to hurt yourself," he interrupts. Even though he is serious, you can see that he’s amused by your confidence in your skills.

You pout playfully. "Fine. But only if you promise we’ll come back for more ice-skating dates until I can spin."

Sylus sighs, the mist leaving his lips with the faint smile. "Fine. We’ll come back. But only if you promise not to try anything reckless again."

"Deal," you say brightly, grabbing his hand again as you continue gliding across the ice.

Though Sylus was reluctant at first, he finds that skating isn’t so bad as he watches you enjoy yourself. The cold air bites at your cheeks, your laughter echoing in the winter night, and for a brief moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you on the shimmering ice.

⋆⁺₊❅. ♡ ︎⋆⁺₊❅.

After leaving the ice rink, a little flushed and breathless, Sylus leads you through the bustling rows of stalls. He buys you your favorite candy, while he picks out some odd, colorful confections for himself—strange mix of flavors that you wouldn’t have dared to try, but he seems intrigued.

As you stroll further, your eyes catch on a vibrant display of oversized plushies at a game stall. A particularly cute dragon plushie catches your attention, its soft fabric shimmering slightly under the lights. You figure that this is a good time to regain some dignity you lost on the ice. You step up to the booth, pay the attendant, and pick up the air rifle. The attendant’s jaw practically drops as you shoot all the targets effortlessly, and Sylus’ admiration shines evident as he watches you from the side.

“Is there any space left in your apartment for more toys?” he remarks as you hug the plushie to your chest.

You shrug with a self-satisfied smile. “If not, I’ll just bring some to you.”

He chuckles, slipping his hand into yours as you continue walking through the festive town, the dragon plushie tucked snugly under your arm.

⋆⁺₊❅. ♡ ︎⋆⁺₊❅.

Back at the cozy lodge, you push the door open, greeted by the warmth and the comforting scent of cedar and cinnamon. Sylus steps in behind you, his arms carrying bags of candies, trinkets, and wrapped gifts you’d picked out for your friends back home. You set your dragon plushie on the couch, fluffing its wings a little before turning to help him organize everything.  He puts down a bottle of on the kitchen counter and you find the small bundle of herbs you’d picked out. After setting everything down, you feel the weight of the day in your limbs. Your arms and thighs ache from all the skating and carrying bags, but it’s almost a satisfying buzz in your muscles.

Sylus turns to you, tilting his head slightly. “You’re slowing down,” he says.

“I’m not slowing down,” you protest, but a yawn betrays you. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Come on,” he says, motioning toward the hallway. “Let’s clean up. The bathtub’s big enough to fit both of us.”

You glance at him, but he’s already on his way to the bathroom, so you follow behind, almost giddy at the thought of a relaxing bath.

⋆⁺₊❅. ♡ ︎⋆⁺₊❅.

He adjusts the temperature in the shower while you start to light candles around the room. Steam begins to fill the air, carrying the faint scent of the bath salts you placed by the tub. Stripping down, you step into the shower together. The warm spray cascades over your skin, washing away the remnants of the day’s adventures.

Once clean, you both step out and towel off. Sylus moves to the bathtub, sprinkling the bath salts into the hot water, the scent rising as he swirls the water with his hand, testing the temperature.

“Perfect,” he murmurs and takes your hand in his, helping you step into the tub first.

A relieved sigh leaves your lips as the hot water envelops you, the salts already working their magic on your tired muscles. Sylus follows, settling in across from you his broad shoulders just visible above the water’s shimmering surface. His silver hair clings to his forehead in damp strands, and his gaze is softened by the dim light as he takes in the sight of you.

You let out a long sigh, your eyes fluttering closed as you lean your head back against the bath pillow. “Well,” you mumble, “goodnight.”

A low, amused chuckle rumbles from his chest. Without a word, his leg nudges yours under the water, his foot brushing lightly against your calf, making your eyes flick open and look at him in mock annoyance.

“You can’t fall asleep here,” he says with a grin tugging at his lips.

You grin back, letting your toes nudge his shin in retaliation. “I wouldn’t. There’s hardly any room for my legs anyway, with yours taking up all the space.”

Sylus shifts slightly, the movement causing ripples across the water’s surface, as he lifts a hand and gestures toward you.

"Come here." he says, his voice low.

Your heart skips a beat at the invitation, but you don’t hesitate. Shifting forward, you move carefully through the water, as you settle in the space between his legs. He reaches up, his hands brushing lightly against your shoulders, and the weight of them is reassuring, grounding.

“Would you like a massage?” he asks, his breath warm against your damp neck.

“Yes, please,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

His hands begin to move, firm but gentle at the same time, starting at the curve of your shoulders. His thumbs press into the tense muscles there, working out knots you didn’t realize were still lingering from the day. A sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it. His hands slide down, from your shoulders to your arms, taking a moment to squeeze gently at the tension in your biceps before moves on the muscles of your upper back. Every touch melts away the strain of the evening. The water sways gently around you both, the soft ripples lapping against your skin.

“You’re easy to please,” he murmurs, a faint smile audible in his tone.

“Not true,” you counter, though the words lack conviction “Okay, maybe a little true.”

“You’re good at this,” you admit, your voice drowsy from the combination of his touch and the heat of the bath. His hands move to the back of your neck, his thumbs pressing into just the right spot to make you exhale deeply.

“I know. I have good hands.” he replies with amusement in his tone.

You laugh softly, letting your head rest against his chest for a moment as his hands finish their slow journey over your back, neck, and arms. Then, his hands slide around you, wrapping gently across your middle. You let out a soft, contented sigh as you fully lean back against him. Sylus rests his chin against the top of your head as he adjusts to hold you more snugly, his breath tickling the crown of your head. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Your eyes flutter closed, and you know that his are likely closed too, the tension you sensed in him earlier replaced by a rare ease.

You shift slightly, turning your cheek to rest against his chest, and the subtle vibration of his breath hums beneath your skin. You rest your hands on his forearms, your thumbs to kneading gently into his muscles. He hums in approval, the low sound vibrating against you.

Sylus’ hands start to move, his palms gliding over your stomach, as they settle on the curve of your waist, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive dip of your sides. Your breath catches as his hands venture lower, skimming over your thighs. His fingers linger there, kneading the muscle with firm, expert precision, but your legs remain closed. A soft moan escapes your lips, and you feel Sylus’ breath against your neck as he leans forward. His lips press against the curve where your shoulder meets your neck, planting slow, languid kisses that send tingling warmth through you.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper. His hands shifting upward now, his fingers grazing just beneath the swell of your breasts, his touch featherlight, drawing another gasp from you.

Your heartbeat quickens as his hands finally move higher, cupping your breasts. His palms glide over the soft, wet skin, his thumbs circling your nipples in a way that makes you arch slightly against him, pressing into his chest. The combination of his teasing touch and the sensation of his lips against your neck leaves you utterly lost in the moment.

His lips trail higher, brushing against your jawline, before the warmth of Sylus' hands leaves your skin. His palms slide gently from your breasts before wrapping around your middle. He presses a kiss to your temple. "The water’s getting cold," he murmurs, his embrace tightening for just a moment.

You sigh, reluctant to leave the comfort of the tub and his embrace. "You’re right." you reply, your voice tinged with disappointment.  

Sylus is the first to step out of the tub, water dripping down his toned physique as he offers you a hand. His grip is firm, steadying you as you rise, goosebumps spreading all over your wet skin. Your gaze unintentionally drops—and there it is. Your cheeks burn, and Sylus catches your look, a teasing smirk curling at his lips. “We’ll handle that later.” he says smoothly.

You bite your lip as you avert your gaze, heart fluttering as you grab a towel. After you dry off and pull on your bathrobe, the plush fabric warm against your skin, an idea pops into your head. Still slightly damp, you practically skip to your luggage bag.

Sylus watches you with a raised brow, leaning casually against the doorframe as he ties his robe around his waist. “What are you up to now?”

“Wait and see!” you say, as you unzip the bag and pull out the matching pajama set you’d hidden there—a playful, festive pattern of candy canes and gingerbread men. It smells faintly of your fabric softener, the scent wafting up as you hold it out to him.

Sylus takes the set from your hands, his eyes narrowing as he inspects the goofy design. He exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Of course, you’d pick something like this,”

“You’re wearing it,” you say firmly with a giddy smile.

With a mock sigh of resignation, Sylus slips into the pajamas, the soft fabric snug against his frame. You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, but he catches the gleam in your eyes.

“Laugh it up,” he says. "I’ll remember this.”

You grin unabashedly, slipping into your matching set before leading him out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen, eager to make mulled wine. Sylus opens the wine bottle while you gather the spices and a small pot. The two of you move seamlessly, your bodies brushing now and then as you prepare. The smell of cinnamon, cloves, and citrus soon fills the air, mixing with the aroma of red wine. As the wine simmers gently on the stove, Sylus excuses himself briefly, heading toward the living room. Moments later, the faint sound of a match striking is followed by the soft crackle of the fireplace. The warm scent of wood begins to fill the air, mingling with the spicy aroma of the mulled wine bubbling in the kitchen.

When he returns to the stove, you leave the kitchen to him and go around the other rooms, gathering every pillow and blanket you could find. Then you go to the living room where you arrange them into a cozy nest on the plush rug, settling everything just right by the fire. Satisfied with your work, you sit down and wrap yourself in one of the soft blankets, snuggling into it as you hold a well-loved box of Travel Size Kitty Cards in your hands.

When Sylus steps into the room carrying two steaming mugs of mulled wine, his lips quirk into an amused smile as he takes in the sight of you, warm and snug, holding the deck of cards. “Do you really want to spend the evening losing to me at this?”

“Losing?” You pout, shuffling the cards with more determination now. “You think you’re so good at this game, don’t you? Luck doesn’t count as skill.”

Sylus arches a brow. “Luck is a skill when you know how to use it.” He says as he sits across from you.

You roll your eyes, finishing the shuffle and placing the deck between you. “Alright, three rounds. I’ll win at least two, and when I do—” you lean forward with a cocky grin— “we’re buying matching reindeer onesies tomorrow.”

He shakes his head. “Reindeer onesies? That’s your wager?” He pauses, feigning deep contemplation, then leans closer. “Fine. But if I win, you’re wearing the gift I got you for the rest of the night.”

Your cheeks immediately heat at his words, your mind conjuring up images of delicate lace. You try to play it cool, though your blush betrays you, and you can’t quite meet his gaze. “Oh,” you murmur, “alright. Deal.”

His eyes catch every flicker of your expression. “You seem eager for me to win.”

You sigh, grabbing the deck of cards and start setting up the game. “Don’t get cocky, Sylus.” But as you focus on your hand, you find yourself secretly rooting for him, curious to see what he has picked out for you.

“Let’s see, then,” he murmurs, his voice rich with confidence as he picks up his cards. “Try to keep up.”

⋆⁺₊❅. ♡ ︎⋆⁺₊❅.

Sylus shakes his head as he gathers the cards, sliding them back into the little box, his smug grin never leaving his face.

"First round victory got you cocky," he teases. "And that, kitten, was your undoing."

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. "The wine clouded my judgment," you huff, your tone a mix of irritation and playful defiance.

Sylus chuckles as he sets the box aside. "We both know that’s not true," he replies. "You’ve had, what? One mug? Hardly enough to make you lose focus. So, really… it’s just you."

His grin widens as he leans back on one hand, utterly at ease while you sit there pouting. The firelight catches in his eyes, and the smugness radiating off him is maddening.

You feel your cheeks flush—not just from the fire or the wine. He’s right; you’re not drunk. The wine has only left you feeling perfectly warm, relaxed and a little tingly. And, unfortunately, that buzz has also heightened your awareness of him—the way he’s watching you, the faint curve of his lips both infuriating and unbearably attractive. You grumble something unintelligible, sinking further into your blanket cocoon, but Sylus, with his insufferable smirk, isn’t about to let you escape the moment unscathed.

He rises gracefully from the rug and he strides toward the bedroom. You watch him go, the wine’s gentle buzz amplifying your anticipation.

What could it be?

Your first thought is lingerie—something delicate and lacy, designed to make you blush the moment you open it. A dress, perhaps? you wonder. But then you dismiss the idea with a shake of your head; Sylus has already gifted you a breathtaking dress for the holiday banquet earlier this season. Maybe it’s a ridiculous onesie, you think. A cat? A sheep? Something he’d insist you wear just to tease you mercilessly the entire night. The mental image makes your cheeks flush, not entirely from embarrassment—because, honestly, you’d probably wear it, just to see that rare, carefree laugh of his.

Before your thoughts spiral further, Sylus returns, with a small box in his hands. Your breath catches. The unmistakable blue hue and the satin white bow make your eyes widen. He settles down across from you, and holds the box out. His smiles softly. "One of the gifts I brought for you," he says. "I thought it fitting for the trip."

Your heart flutters as you accept the gift. You gently tug at the bow, setting aside the satin ribbon, and your fingers tremble slightly as you lift the lid of the box. Your smile stretches wide the moment you see the necklace nestled inside the box, a heart-shaped pendant glimmering in the room’s dim light. Joy bubbles up in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you lunge forward, wrapping Sylus in a tight hug.

"Thank you," you murmur against his shoulder.

His arms hold you firmly for a brief moment before you pull back just enough to plant a smooch on his lips, quick and filled with gratitude. He smiles against your lips, his hand brushing over your back before you settle back into your spot to admire the necklace again. You lift the chain, examining every detail of the stunning craftmanship. But as your eyes adjust to the dim light, you notice something different. Your brow furrows, and you tilt the pendant closer.

The usual engraving isn’t there.

Instead, in elegant script, you read: Please return to Onychinus N109 Zone.

Your heart flutters, the customization turning an already beautiful gift into something deeply personal.

Sylus notices your pause and leans forward slightly, his voice low and warm. "It felt more fitting this way."

You glance up at him, and all you can do is nod.

"Let me," he says softly, reaching for the necklace. You hand it to him, and he moves closer, draping the chain around your neck. His fingers brush against your skin as he fastens it, sending a small shiver down your spine. He leans back to admire his work, his eyes gleaming as they move from the pendant to your face.

"It suits you," he says.

"Thank you," you say again, your fingers brushing over the pendant, feeling its cool surface against your skin.

Sylus’ lips curl into a playful smirk as his gaze dips briefly to your outfit. "But those pajamas don’t really go with it."

You roll your eyes at the comment, but as you replay his words, you stop. Your eyes narrow in mock accusation. "Wait…"

Wear my gift for the rest of the night.

Your face heats, a mix of embarrassment and excitement coiling in your stomach as you glance down at the necklace. You’re acutely aware of his presence, of the way his eyes haven’t left yours.

"I—" you start, but the words catch in your throat as he shifts closer to you.

Sylus’ hands move slowly to the hem of your pajama top, his fingertips delicately brushing against the fabric, his eyes locked on your face, waiting for your permission. Wordlessly, you lift your arms, and his lips quirk in a soft smile. He takes his time pulling the top over your head, the cool air of the room kissing your skin as it becomes bare. A shiver runs through you, goosebumps rising along your arms and chest as your pajama top is discarded.

"I’m going to be cold the rest of the night now," you pout, half-joking.

Sylus leans forward, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. When he pulls back, he whispers against your lips. "I’ll make sure you stay warm."

His words send a jolt of heat straight to your core as he guides you down, his weight pressing you into the soft blanket beneath. Your legs part instinctively, inviting him closer. Sylus hovers over you, his lips finding yours in a slow, intoxicating kiss. The faint taste of wine clings to him, rich and heady, as his tongue teases yours. Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling him deeper, needing him closer. He growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your mouth as he rolls his hips, grinding his hardness against your craving heat.

The sudden pressure against your clothed pussy makes you gasp into his mouth, your body arching into him as you feel the hard length of him straining against the fabric of his pajamas. Sylus pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his red eyes dark with hunger, his lips slick and swollen from the kiss. The firelight flickers over his sharp features, making him look devastatingly irresistible. His hips roll against yours again, grinding just right, pulling a desperate gasp from your lips as heat pools deep in your core.

He leans in, his breath tickling your skin before he drags his lips slowly along your pulse, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses that make your body arch into him. His tongue flicks over your skin, tasting you, the scrape of his teeth making you shiver beneath him.

He shifts slightly, his mouth traveling lower, trailing kisses down to your chest. A soft moan escapes your lips when his lips capture the peak of one breast. His tongue swirls around your nipple, teasing before he takes it into his mouth, sucking gently. At the same time, his fingers find your other breast, kneading it with care, his thumb circling the sensitive bud, the attention making you arch into his touch.

"Sylus," you whisper, his name tumbling from your lips as your fingers tangle in his hair again, holding him close to you.

He hums in response, the vibration adding to the sensation as his mouth continues savoring your body. His free hand skims down your side, tracing every curve, every dip, before settling at your waist. He releases your breast with a soft, wet sound, his lips immediately finding your belly. Then, his kisses trail lower, each press of his mouth against your skin making your impatience grow, but his hands steady your hips as his lips linger just above the waistband of your pajama pants.

His eyes flick up to meet yours. The way he looks at you—hungry, tender, and utterly devoted—makes your breath catch. The heat pooling between your thighs becomes unbearable, your panties damp with need as you writhe beneath him.

Finally, Sylus hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pajama pants and underwear, pulling them down in one smooth motion. His tongue darts out to wet his lips when he takes in the sight of you, bare and ready for him. Sylus starts slow, savoring every moment as his lips plant tender kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

"You’re trembling," he murmurs, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider. "So responsive... so beautiful."

The warmth of his breath fans over your dripping pussy, teasing, as he lets his lips linger just close enough for you to feel the ghost of a touch. Finally, his mouth moves to where you need him most. His tongue flattens against your folds, licking a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, making you gasp, your hips bucking instinctively toward his mouth. His tongue circles your clit, before his lips close around the swollen bundle of nerves, sucking gently at first, then harder as he finds the rhythm that makes your moans turn into cries.

One hand remains on your thigh, keeping you spread open for him, while the other slides up. His middle finger traces along your entrance, teasingly dipping in before retreating, then plunging back in, this time to the knuckle. He groans against your clit, as if the sensation of you gripping his finger drives him just as wild. He adds a second finger, his long digits stretching you, curling just right to press against your sweet spot. The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers has you writhing beneath him, drawing you closer to the edge. His tongue flicks rapidly over your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, the wet sounds mixing with your breathless cries.

Your thighs quiver, and he knows you’re close - his fingers curl deeper, pressing harder against that perfect spot as his lips suck your clit relentlessly. Your orgasm rips through you with a force that leaves you breathless. Your walls clamp around his fingers as your body arches off the rug, your cries filling the room as the pleasure pulses through every inch of you. Sylus doesn’t stop, prolonging your high as his tongue and fingers coax every last tremor of pleasure from your body until you’re trembling, gasping his name in broken, desperate whines.

Finally, he slows, withdrawing his fingers and pressing one last lingering kiss to your oversensitive clit, his lips curling into a smug smile as he looks up at you, his chin glistening with your release.

"My beautiful girl," he whispers, as he kisses the inside of your thigh one last time before sitting up. "All mine."

He takes off his pajama shirt, and in one fluid motion, he pulls off his pajama bottoms, leaving him completely bare. Your breath hitches at the sight of him, his cock thick, long, and hard. His eyes lock onto yours as he leans down, positioning himself between your legs. You gasp softly as the tip of his cock glides through your folds, his length sliding back and forth, coating himself in your mixed fluids. The sensation alone has you trembling, your legs instinctively parting wider for him.

Then, slowly, he presses against your entrance, the thick head of his cock stretching you as he begins to slide in, his eyes locked on you as your body takes in every inch. When he bottoms out, he pauses, his hips flush against yours, his cock buried deep. The sensation of being so completely filled sends waves of pleasure radiating through your body, leaving you gasping. His weight shifts as he lowers himself onto his elbows, bringing your bodies closer, his chest brushing against yours. He captures your lips in a slow kiss, making your head spin. His hips start to move, rolling against you in a languid rhythm drawing soft moans from you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing to feel more of him, your heels digging into his lower back. Your hands slide up to his shoulders, your fingers pressing into the taut muscles as he moves. His cock drags against your walls with each thrust, hitting spots that leave you gasping into his mouth. He swallows every sound, his kiss growing more feverent, his breath ragged as his body molds against yours. His hips grind against yours, his cock pressing deeper, harder, as you cling to him, your nails digging into his back.

Sylus’ pace begins to slow, his hips rolling more languidly as his lips break from yours.

“I need you closer.” he murmurs.

Without waiting for a response, he shifts his weight, one arm wrapping securely around your waist as he leans to the side, taking you with him. You gasp softly as your bodies roll together, your legs untangling briefly before one of his slips between yours.

Now on your sides, your bodies are pressed together so tightly you can feel his heartbeat. His arm stays snug around your waist, pulling you even closer, while his other hand cradles the back of your head. Your chest presses against his, and your hands rest against him, one lightly squished between your bodies. The other moves instinctively to his neck, your fingertips feeling his warmth, his pulse. Your leg hooks over his hip instinctively, granting him better access as his hips begin to move again.

The new angle makes you moan, his cock hitting even deeper, the angle forcing you to take all of him, and you clutch at his neck, your nails grazing his skin.

"My love." he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple as you press your face into his chest, overwhelmed by the closeness, the way he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in his world.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, your lips parting slightly. His eyes burn into yours, before his mouth captures yours in a deep, hungry kiss. The base of his cock presses perfectly against your clit with each thrust, the friction sending sparks of heat shooting through you. You’re helpless against the pleasure building inside, your breaths ragged and broken as his rhythm pushes you closer to the edge.

His hand on your back tightens, pulling you flush against him, the slick grind of his pelvis teasing that swollen, aching bud mercilessly. You arch into him, your nails digging into the hard muscle of his chest, and your gasps turn into needy, breathless cries.

“Just like that,” he rasps, his eyes stay locked on your face, devouring every flicker of pleasure that twists across your features. "Let me see you fall apart for me."

The way his cock fills you, stretching you with every roll of his hips, combined with the perfect pressure against your clit, is too much. Your body coils tighter, your thighs trembling where they’re hooked around his waist.

“Sylus…” you whimper, your voice trembling.

“Come for me,” he growls, one still cradling your head, the other pressing your back to him like he can’t stand even a breath of distance between you.

The tension inside you snaps, your body locks tight, your walls squeezing his cock with desperate intensity, milking him as a guttural moan escapes his throat. He thrusts into you harder, deeper, grinding his pelvis against your swollen clit, wringing every last pulse of pleasure from your throbbing pussy. Your cries fill the room, your entire body trembling in his arms. Sylus holds you through it all, his movements never faltering, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you as you ride out your high.

"That’s it." he murmurs tenderly, his gaze never leaving your face, memorizing the way you look in this moment—completely undone, completely his.

But he doesn’t stop - his hips keep rolling into you, his cock dragging against the oversensitive walls of your pussy, the friction is almost too much.

"You feel so perfect," he groans, his voice vibrating through his chest where you’re pressed tightly against him.

Your legs tremble, locked tight around his waist, keeping him buried deep. Sylus’ thrusts turn frantic, slamming into you harder, rougher, the sound of wet, filthy friction filling the room. His cock twitches inside you, driving deeper with every thrust.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost broken, as your name falls from his lips. His hand cups your face, fingers trembling as they stroke your cheek, grounding himself in the haze of his need.

His movements stutter, his cock throbbing, and with a guttural growl, he pushes into you one last time, spilling hot and thick cum inside you. His hips twitch helplessly, every pulse of his release sending a shudder through his body. He clings to you, forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged as he groans your name one last time.

His name escapes your lips in a soft, breathless moan, and he captures it in a searing kiss. The kiss slows as his movements still, the room filled with the sound of your mingled breathing and the faint crackle of the fire beside you. Sylus doesn’t pull away, his arms still wrapped around you, and you rest your head against his chest. His hands roam gently over your back and shoulders now, as if trying to soothe the tremble in your muscles. He kisses the top of your head before he pulls back just enough to look at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his fingertips grazing your cheek with a featherlight touch.

You nod with a soft smile.

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that feels entirely different from before—his mouth moves tenderly, as though memorizing the curve of your lips, savoring the taste, the warmth you offer. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin, grounding you both. When he pulls back slightly, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the stillness. His gaze, when it meets yours, is soft, filled with adoration. You could stay like this forever.

[shallow-between-stars]

When I grew up I spent a lot of time at my maternal grandparent's home in Victoria.

It was an old, brown two-storey that's since been demolished and subdivided because that is the way of things. After Pop died there wasn't much call for a house with that much space in a gentrifying suburb and it made more sense to knock the whole thing down than try and sell land with a two storey with a separate toilet, a garden, a detatched garage and another garden after that all on it.

Hey, something something property prices.

(Something something buying land in the 1950s and selling it in 2023.)

But next door to my grandfather lived a pair of 'brothers' and their 'live-in best friend.' By the time I came into this world only one of the three was still alive - Al. He was from Germany, I think his name was Alphonse? But to everyone he was just Al. His 'brother' was Hans, I don't know what their 'friend's' name was. I remember that Al's eyes used to go dark and distant if I ever asked him about Germany, and that I learnt to stop asking.

He used to say that he and his 'brother' and their 'friend' were Australian, in a German accent so thick I could only half-understand him, and as a child I did not understand the way I do now.

The thing is, up until the day Al died, he was one of my grandfather's best mates. Pop was around there nearly every day sharing the newspaper, sharing the spoils of the gardens, chatting and fixing electronics and generally just being great friends with this guy.

This had been going on for years. My mum tells stories of Al treating her and her siblings with the same love and kindness that he treated my brother and I with. He was a gorgeous, generous, dapper man with a thick accent and the ability to slip his neighbour's grandkids their bodyweight in chocolate when their parents weren't looking.

And apparently his 'brother' and their 'live-in best friend' were much the same.

Al never told Pop that his 'best friend' and his 'brother' were not his best friend and his brother. Mum clocked it, I have a feeling most of her generation did. I never did until a long time later, but Al was the last to leave us and even he left before I was old enough to realise that the photo on his dining room table that I flipped up once of the three of them with their heads pressed together and bliss on their faces meant what it meant. I never understood the kind way in which he took my hands away and pressed the photo back down.

I don't know if he kept it face down or if it was only down like that when people were visiting. I like to think that in his privacy he would flip the photo up, but I also understand as an adult that hearts sometimes do not heal from grief.

I don't know if Pop was letting him keep a polite fiction. I do know that Pop stopped talking to Cousin Louis when Cousin Louis brought his first 'close friend' home and Pop caught them kissing in the back garden. (He didn't disown Louis, with 27 of us grandkids running around, the only one of us who was left something was my brother and that was for the sole reason that my brother was the Favourite. Everything else was given to the eight children. So none of us grandkids were really in a place to be disowned.)

I do know when I was fifteen and reading terrible yaoi manga on the couch, Pop picked up the next volume I had next to me, flipped to an unfortunate page and told me, brandishing the picture of two anime men kissing, that he wouldn't allow this filth in his house.

I do know that every single family member (including Nanna) who knew that the three men living next door were not brothers and a friend never, ever mentioned that to Pop.

And I wonder sometimes how this story would have played out differently if Al had decided he wasn't going to keep the lie.

I do know that it would not have been kind.

We, in many ways, are moving slowly into a kinder world.

But we cannot forget that the world we come from didn't use to be the way it is now.

Every now and then some discourse pops up around a queer ship consisting of a pair of fictional characters who are not blood related, but refer to themselves as "brothers" or "sisters," or are in some way, according to the fandom, "sibling-coded."

Every time I see that discourse, all I can think about are the very real queer men I once knew, who, before their deaths, lived their lives posing as "stepbrothers." The only way to avoid suspicion for being two older unmarried men living together in a rural conservative area was to pretend they were from the same family, even though the truth was that they were lovers.

They were never out in life. Their relationship was a strict secret to nearly everyone. They never knew that I knew, and sometimes it fucks me up inside that they never got to come out to me. It fucks me up that they had to hide behind a fake "brotherly" relationship for their own safety. It fucks me up to look at a gravestone that reads "beloved brother" and know what it really means, and what it could have said if they'd lived under different circumstances.

In another world, they could have been husbands, but they never had the opportunity. The world will remember them as brothers, because, even in death, that is what was safest.

The freedom to declare queer love openly is something that not everyone has. And I think more people could stand to remember that.

[thewitchblue]

"Are you... reading Twilight?"

You had asked Jason, who broke into your apartment while you were gone grocery shopping. He only gave you a hum and continued reading as you set your grocery bags on your kitchen table.

You watched him turn the page and felt a sense of dread. It was your copy from when you were 13 years old. It had notes and doodles in the margins. Did he read your notes? Of course he would. He reads the annotated versions of Jane Austen he has for fun. Why wouldn't he read your notes? The world seemed to be against you this day.

You were so mortified you didn't even hear him laugh at a doodle you had of Edward biting a dog with the word "nom" next to it. He was almost done with the book.

You've only been dating for a handful of months. Would the notes break up your relationship? You don't remember the majority of them.

You haven't touched the trilogy since school, and you originally didn't even want to read it. The social pressure from your friends became to be too much, and it felt like a religious experience at the time.

You had forgotten about the book entirely in the years you've had it crammed in a bookcase next to the rest of the series, which, with great horror, you saw he also pulled out to read.

"Don't tell me you're enjoying the book."

You said in disbelief. The memories run through your head of your blushing cheeks at simple words on pages while the girls ganged up on you to ask which team your on. What team is Jason on? Or has he read this before behind closed doors? He shrugged and simply replied,

"I am."

You wanted to bolt out the door, but you had melting limited addition candy cane ice cream in your grocery bag.

Instead of running away, you bravely start putting away your groceries with your eyes trained on Jason. He seemed to genuinely enjoy your trashy romance book that's so incredibly dated. This is so bizarre to you. He's a fan of the classics and loves books that he can revisit without cringing.

The book appeared partially destroyed by the abyss of your backpack with a torn cover and a broken spine, but it drew Jason's attention. Of course, it would draw his attention. He always said a well loved book is one you take everywhere. A book with a broken spine and torn cover is going to make him curious.

He never had the normal teenage phase, so he's never read the book. He was curious, and he was rewarded so far. He understands now why teenagers like the trilogy so far.

You decided to break into the ice cream. You tensed at every page turned. What did you write in there? You tried to remember. You vaguely remember writing "yummy muscles" on a page. You cringed. Oh, the horrors of a horny teen.

The ice cream was as delicious as you expected it to be. How could you look him in the eyes ever again? Will he tell the whole family? You were stress eating.

Jason finished the book and went to pick up the next one, but you plucked it out of his hands before he could open it and grabbed the final book as well.

"I'm seriously going to throw these in the shredder."

Jason smirked at you. He enjoyed your little doodles and notes. It was as if he was meeting you when you were kids. He pointed out,

"I think they are too big to shred, pipsqueak."

You pouted, which only made him more amused. He pulled you into his lap and kissed your cheek. You huffed,

"I can still try."

He laughed. You were so adorable. He might have to embarrass you more. He murmured to you,

"I especially enjoyed your note of 'delicious dog meat.'"

You groaned and held your face in your hands, making the books fall to the floor. You hated your past self in this moment. Why did you keep those books? For Jason to show up and read them?

The feeling of dread eventually went away the more he kissed you. You filed away the fact you can know for a fact Jason read Twilight now, and part of you wondered if he'll spiral into the hellscape of fanfiction as a result. You are going to burn those books.

You like to think you ended up with a better love story than Twilght. Sure, you may be dating a zombie instead of a vampire or werewolf like teen you had wanted (if we can have Superman, we can have a sexy vampire or werewolf), but your zombie is perfect in his own ways.

[leesromanova]

dust collected on my pinned up hair

pairing: natasha x reader

warnings: angst, hurt reader, happy/hurt/guilty nat, idk they're both hurting, marrige, cursing, self-criticism, lots of feelings. (i’m sorry)

synopsis: you go on your usual coffee run and bump into your ex, who if it wasn’t for the mutual break up, would have been the one.

a/n: i love angst lol. blame my over active imagination and taylor swift. thank you all for continuing to support and read my works <3

to put y’all in the mood i recommend listening to ↴

The line seemed endless. Bodies upon, bodies of caffeine addicts waiting to be serviced.

The energy of a busy New York coffee shop at 8am was truly a sight to see for any newbie to the city—thank god, you were accustomed to the rude grogginess of the baristas and the lines to wait for your wanted—no, needed, yet still overpriced coffee.

You hear the door open again as a small bell atop of the frame is triggered by the entering customer. The chill breeze of the city winter rips through the space, making you shiver and wrap your coat around yourself a bit tighter. Cool air creeping through the fibers of the winter coat you were sporting made you need that coffee a bit more urgently.

“Next in line!” the line moved as you pulled out your phone and took a step forward. You scroll through your notifications, looking for anything you had missed in your previous peak, before feeling a tap on your shoulder. Your first reaction is to look up with a rather hostile look in your eyes at whoever intruded your non-social, pre-caffeine headspace.

“Natasha?” your eyebrows crinkle at the sight of the woman in front of you. Her smile genuine as she looks down at you.

“Hi, stranger” she says, the raspy voice bringing back memories of a not-so-forgotten time in your past. She moves her arm around you to pull you into a side hug, you accept it—a bit stiffly and pull away, taking in her appearance.

She looked professional yet still casual and comfortable, a combination that always suited her quite well—at least the version you had gotten to know in your past. Her red locks in a neat braid that swept across her head and onto her shoulder, a few framing strands left out on the sides. Her eyes were more worn on the sides—the start of crows feet present besides her lashes.

Her eyes were the same, still the same shade of captivating green.

“How are you? How have you been?” she asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. Her voice coming out a bit rougher than how you remembered. Maybe it was caused by the cold air or, maybe it was just the other way the few years had affected her.

You look down and pocket your phone, “I’ve been okay, just y’know…holding up,” you watch as the person ahead of you steps forward, prompting the both of you to move up and fill the gap. You shift to the side, and make room for the redhead to stand beside you. The scent of her perfume lingers in the air, stirring up memories of the past.

“How about you? What have you been up to, besides finding ways to cut-in-line at random coffee shops?” she lets out a huff of air as she turns to look at you “I was leaving when saw you…so I decided I should come and say hi," she looks at you with an amused expression.

you smile and hum in acceptance, letting her continue. She takes a breath before starting, "I've been okay—for the most part. Just trying to keep up with what life throws at me." She smiles and puts her hands in her pockets. You wonder if they were just as rough as how you remembered, or if they’d grown more calloused with time.

"Are you cold?" you ask, still looking at her now-concealed hands. She turns to look at you, you meet her eyes, and she lifts a brow "I've told you before how we Russians don't get cold," she says before continuing "that’s something you should've remembered." her voice carries as the last words enter your ears and without thinking you respond.

"I remember lots of things."

You feel the energy around you both change as the words leave your lips and you cringe as you watch her body visibly stiffen. Your brutally honest word choice must’ve reminded her of the reason why it had been so long since the two of you spoke.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Sometime in the past 2 years

“Natasha… I just can’t do this anymore.” The words choke in your throat as you pace in front of her in the living room of your shared apartment. Every step you take feels like it’s pulling you further from everything you once wanted, but you can't stop yourself. You can barely breathe, the emotion inside you holding your lungs down. Your eyes move to look at Natasha, and everything inside you screams to hold on.

“I’ve always been here for you,” you continue, voice cracking. “Always. I kept waiting, hoping you’d open up to me, just like I did for you, bare an-and vulnerable.” Your voice cracks making you take a steadying breath before continuing, pointing a shaking finger toward her. “I put my heart on the line, expecting the same... but I never got it. And when you finally did open up... I was there. I loved you through the dark days, the lonely nights. I stayed, Natasha. I stayed through everything, and I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.” Your words spill out like a dam breaking, but the anger, the frustration, the heartbreak—none of it makes the pain go away.

You want to somehow make it work, to find the missing piece that would make her open up fully. You wanted this to work more than anything. But the hard truth is, you don’t know just how much more you can keep giving without receiving the same in return. You’ve poured so much of yourself into this relationship—your love, your patience, your vulnerability—but now it feels like you’re just…empty. Every night you lie awake, hoping that tomorrow will be the day she finally opens up to you the way you’ve been opening up to her, and every day feels like another unanswered question, an in-life purgatory you can’t escape.

Your fingernails find their way into the flesh of your palms, the sharpness grounding you, but it doesn’t help.

Her heart tears in two as she watches you like this, feeling like a failure. She feels it deep inside—your hurt, your exhaustion, the years of unspoken emotions—and she knows, with crushing certainty, that no matter how much she loves you, she can’t undo the damage. You’re the one person who has always been there, who’s loved her unconditionally, who’s been so patient, so willing to fight for the relationship. She’s failed you. It wasn’t enough. Nothing she did was enough. She loved you—God, she loved you so much—but somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to give you the one thing you needed most: her whole heart. Every single time you reached out, she recoiled, afraid that if she gave you more of herself, she’d lose herself in the process. She knew loving you would mean taking the risk of loosing herself within the beauty that was to love just as hard as you did. 

She doesn’t know how to love you the way you need.

She lifts her head, eyes red, blurry with unshed tears, and glances at your hands, fingers still digging into your skin like you're trying to hold yourself together, as the nails cut through the layers of flesh on your palms. The pieces of yourself feeling like they're falling through your fingers like water. She hurts seeing you like this, she knew you did it to feel control in moments where you felt that control slip away—she’d had been trying to help you stop it, to show you that hurting yourself wouldn't heal anything, but now, she feels just as lost. She feels herself drowning in guilt. 

She’s the one who’s made you feel like this, hasn’t she? 

A warm, trembling hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you out of the darkness of your thoughts along with herself–trying to claw her way out of her guilt. Her touch is gentle, almost too gentle, as if she’s afraid you’ll break if she holds on too tight. She guides your fingers away from your skin, but the ache in your chest only deepens. She’s trying to fix you–to help you, not acknowledging that she needed it as well. And neither of you knew how to do it.

What’s the hell is wrong with me? 

The question cuts deeper than anything she’s ever felt. 

Why can’t I just give her what she needs? 

I love her. 

I love her so much. 

Why isn’t that enough?

“I feel horrible,” she whispers, her voice thick with tears. When you meet her eyes, they’re filled with more pain than you’ve ever seen in them. It tears through you. You wanted to help her, to make her feel loved and safe, but all you've done is hurt her. You've made her feel like she's failing, like she’s not enough, and the guilt is suffocating. She wants to tell you how much she loves you, wants to apologize, to make it better, but she knows deep down that no amount of apologies can fix the damage done. 

You swallow, but your throat is tight, your chest heavier than it’s ever been. "You’re right. You always did the right things. You said the right words. You showed me you loved me, but… I couldn’t see it. I didn’t feel it the way I needed to, and I hate myself for that. I hate that I couldn't be enough for you, Natasha." Your voice breaks at the end, a sound that rips through you, as if you're breaking apart inside. Not enough for her to give you her all. “I’m so sorry. So sorry for making you feel like you weren’t enough.” Making her feel like she hadn’t been giving you enough because she couldn’t give you want you wanted—craved. The sudden realization makes you heave as you reel about you both hurting each other unwillingly—how could something so good turn into something so hurtful?

The weight of your own apology hangs in the air, suffocating, because you don't know how to fix this anymore. You don’t know how to make her stop feeling like she’s a failure when all she’s ever done is try. 

Her heart shatters as you speak. She sees the pure hurt in your eyes, feels the way you’re pulling away from her. it crushes her to know she's the one that hurt you, the one that made you feel as if you weren't enough. Every word you say is a reminder that she’s failed. She’s tried so hard to be the person you need, to show you how much she loves you, but every time she’s gotten close to letting herself go the crippling fear of falling too deep holding her back. 

“I wish I could change,” she says, voice barely audible, but you hear the depth of her regret in every word. She places her hand over her heart, almost as if trying to stop the pulsating ache there. “I don’t want you to suffer with my shit anymore. I don’t want to drag you through this anymore… but I don’t know how to fix me.” She looks at you, her tears falling freely now. “I hate that I can't give you everything you need. I hate that I couldn't be the person you deserved."

You feel every ounce of her guilt like a physical blow, and it’s suffocating. You wish there was something you could say to make her feel better, but the truth is, you're not sure if you even deserve to make her feel better right now. You've failed her too, in so many ways.

Maybe I’m not enough for her. Maybe I never was. 

The thought stings, like a shock against your skin. You can’t help but feel that maybe you’ve failed, that you’re the real reason things fell apart, not Natasha. But as you look at the redhead, her guilt hanging heavy in the air, you realize there’s not just one person to blame, there’s not only one person responsible for this. You’ve both been afraid. Afraid of fully trusting, of letting the walls down completely, of letting each other in.

And now? Now, it feels like it’s too late.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” she says, her voice cracking. “You deserve so much better than me. You deserve someone who can love you with everything they have, without holding back... and I’m not her. I can't be that person." Her eyes search yours, desperate for some sign, some glimmer of hope, but all she finds is a reflection of her own pain.

Staring at her tear-streaked face, the realization hits you like a punch to the gut: it’s not going to happen. It’s not because you haven’t tried, and it’s not because she doesn’t love you—she does, so much, and you can see it in her eyes. But love isn’t enough. 

I can’t keep waiting for something that’s never going to come. 

I can’t keep hurting like this. 

You’re shaking now, but it’s not from anger. It’s from the unbearable truth that lingers in the space between you. The love you had, the connection you both tried so hard  to hold onto, is slipping away, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

“I think…” you can barely get the words out, but they’re there, hanging in the air like the inevitable. "I think you’re right." Your voice cracks, your heart shattering with the weight of those words. You’ve known for so long, deep down, that this was coming. The back and forth, the exhaustion, the constant battle to make her open up, to make her let you in—it was destroying both of you, and it would never change. The months of fighting—wanting her to open up, to show you the real her, nothing was working as it should be. You had been fighting against something inevitable.

You run your thumb over her knuckles, trying to find comfort in the familiar motion, but it feels hollow now. “We’ve tried, Natalia,” you whisper, your heart breaking with every syllable. “We’ve tried to make this work, but I can’t keep pretending it’s going to be okay. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I don’t want you to hurt for me anymore.”

Her tears fall harder now, as if the weight of your decision has broken something inside of her. You both sit there, silently, broken and exhausted from a love that was never enough. Neither of you knows how to fix what’s been destroyed. As she looks at you, so broken, so utterly lost, she feels like she’s watching her own heart crack in two.

You both sit in silence as the sounds of the city bleed into the apartment and circle the two of you.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

“Next!” the barista’s tired voice carries through the space of the café, and makes you both turn to reach the counter. Your cheeks warm and tinged a shade of red at your earlier admission.

“Uh, can I get an iced blond vanilla late, with an extra pump of vanilla, and sweet foam with Carmel drizzle on top?” you order and look over at the redhead who was diligently staring at the side of your face.

She wondered how you hadn’t changed. Time seemed to have left you untouched. While she felt it’s weight etched into her face and mind—you were still the same. With the same coffee order, at the same coffee shop, the same you.

“W-would you like anything?” you ask, stuttering at the gaze she held.

“I’m okay,” she turns to the barista, “That’ll be all.” she completes your order out of habit as you pull out your card to pay.

the barista asks for your name and you both utter a thanks to the young woman, who doesn’t return the pleasantry as you both walk off to the side. The silence, between you both not unwanted, but definitely heightening your anxiety at the unexpected meeting.

You were not dressed to be seeing your ex at a coffee shop.

“Would you like to sit?” you clear your throat and ask, finding a table with two chairs. She smiles and looks at her watch. “Yeah—yeah, I got enough time” she says, sitting down beside you and looking out at the busy streets of the city that never sleeps.

She loved it here, her time in other continents and cities made her realize just how at home the city lights and sirens made her feel, just how at home the people in her life made her feel.

The light of the rising sun reflects off of the glass windows of tall buildings and illuminate her face. Her nose had stayed the same, the feature being something you loved about her even if she said she hated it from time to time. She turns and catches you staring. You to look away and clear your throat as she smiles warmly. She always liked that about you, so attentive to everyone around you.

Stop staring. You mentally kicked yourself for being caught.

“Y’know…you still order your coffee as if you hate the taste of it.” she teases, her hands motioning to the receipt that outlined the specific order you gave. A smile grows as you turn to look at her and laugh softly at her face of accusation. “I swear, you get the sugariest thing on the menu.” she continues, making you laugh a little louder.

Your laugh was the same–she noticed, your smile the same, but your eyes now held a few winkles at the sides as the joy spread over your face. She smiles at you then and leans back in the uncushioned, tall stool.

You roll your eyes and remove your gloves, “hey, before you tease just know you traumatized me with your coffee order,” she looks at you questioningly, making you lean in “Nat, you order a black coffee with like two sugars and call that a coffee order.” she laughs, her cheeks tinting a wonderful shade of red as she answers “It’s a legitimate coffee order y/n, that’s why they make me pay and why I made you try it.” her voice raspy as ever as it leaves her lips. “Oh yeah, trust me I know. I can still feel it on my taste buds and recoil every time I think about it.” she looks at your now very serious expression with a raised brow, and you both break into a shared cackle.

As the laughter settles, you both look at each other. Familiarity and warmth returning to your veins, you missed her. Sure, it had been more than enough time for you to get over her, but you never truly did. Everyone told you it was time to move on, but you never did, hoping, praying, manifesting that maybe one day you could fix things and reunite with the love of your life.

You went out with people, met other singles, dated—but no one made you feel what she did.

"So, how’s work?" you ask, your fingers nervously fiddling with the paper wrapping of a straw that was left on the table by some other customer. She glances down at your hands, noticing how your nails are no longer bitten or ragged, your palms free of the crescent-shaped marks that used to linger there. She smiles softly, noticing how you'd managed to break those anxious habits.

"It’s been good," she replies, her voice warm. "We got some new teammates in—I'm sure you saw it on the news." She looks into your eyes, smiling as she sees the familiar focus in your gaze. That hadn't changed either.

You nod and smile back, leaning in as she continues. "One of them is named Wanda. She's brilliant—you'd love her. Amazing sense of humor, and the best style. I know you’ve always been into fashion."

You chuckle softly, the memory of how you used to carefully pick out your outfits coming back. "That’s nice. So, you and her are close?" you ask, your voice lighter than you feel. It's easy to fall back into the rhythm with her. Conversations with her never felt draining, never like you were just filling silence. At least, it didn’t, not before everything went wrong.

"Yeah," she says, smiling shyly, but her eyes drop to her hands. And that's when you see it. The ring.

The world seems to blur for a moment as your eyes lock onto the silver band adorning her finger. Simple, yet undeniably there. Your mind races, struggling to catch up, focusing on the details—an engraving, some flowers, maybe lilies? You remember how she always loved those.

The sound of her voice cuts through your thoughts. "Y/N?"

You snap back to reality, but it feels like your heart is still racing. You blink, meeting her gaze. The concern in her eyes is unmistakable, but it's not for you. She's moved on.

“Order for y/n!” the barista yells, and you turn, smiling tightly at Nat before getting up to retrieve your coffee.

God, how had you not seen it before? Was it always there? How long ago did she become so open? So willing to let someone in, that she’d actually gotten married?

The questions hit you like a wave, crashing over your mind with unbeatable force.

You make yourself look away, desperate to regain control of your thoughts. You tuck some hair behind your ear, trying to ground yourself, and take a long sip of your cold drink, the ice crunching between your teeth. It does nothing to ease the nausea building in your stomach.

“I—uh, I was looking at your wedding band,” you mutter, feeling the words slip out awkwardly. Your gaze drifts back to her fingers, the ring glinting in the sunlight. She follows your stare, quietly adjusting her hand, almost as if she’s waiting for this moment to land.

“Oh, um… yeah," she clears her throat, her voice sounding a little tighter than before. "Me and Wanda... we, uh... I proposed a few months ago,” she adds, looking down at the ring, tracing the engravings with her fingers. Finally, she meets your eyes, and for a brief second, it feels like everything you thought you knew about her is slipping away. This wasn’t the Natasha who used to laugh at your bad jokes, or the one who whispered your name in the quiet of your shared apartment, the one who whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you laid naked in bed after you’d had sex. No, this was a version of her you did not know.

“Oh.” The word barely leaves your mouth as you nod slowly, but it’s enough to echo in the silence between you two. It’s all you can manage, the word feeling too small, insignificant.

What else could you say?

You want to bury your face in your hands.

God, Y/N, think of something better. Say something better.

The words feel hollow, useless, as they form in your mind. The words don’t feel like your own. They feel forced, clumsy, like you’re trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through your fingers. You hate how it feels. You hate how she feels like a stranger to you now, someone you don’t know anymore, someone who has moved on without you.

"Congratulations," you finally say, the words coming out flat, lifeless. Your smile feels too tight, too forced. You can feel it pulling at the corners of your lips as your body instinctively turns inward, the discomfort sharp and heavy.

Congratulations? Are you fucking serious?

She notices, of course—how could she not? Her eyes flicker with concern, watching as your posture shifts, your guard rising. But it’s too late. You’re already pulling away.

What the hell did I just say?

The self-criticism is almost suffocating.

Congratulations?

You want to slap your forehead, but you settle for simply glancing up at her. Her gaze is locked onto you now, intense and unwavering. It’s like she’s trying to reach you through the growing distance between you two, but you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve lost her... that you never really had her.

The sound of the coffee shop fade as your own internal dialogue takes over, mocking you.

You’re pathetic, it whispers.

You haven’t moved on.

You never really let go.

You glance around the coffee shop. There’s a woman in the corner smiling at her boyfriend—no husband, the wedding ring sparkling as she holds his cheek, a group of tourists chatting loudly about going to watch some play on Broadway, someone in the backline swiping through their phone, you can see the TikTok home screen from your place in the corner of the café.

But you can’t hear them. All you hear is the hollow beat of your own heart, pounding painfully in your chest, as if it knows that this moment is the end of something—something you still thought was possible.

It feels like you’re drowning, surrounded by noise, by life moving forward, while you’re stuck here in this tiny moment, unable to breathe.

Her eyes flicker with concern, noticing how your posture shifts, how you stiffen at the words that should have felt normal, casual. But they don’t. They can’t.

There’s nothing casual about this.

Nothing normal.

Not when your heart is bleeding under the weight of a past you can’t shake, a future you never thought you’d face.

You try to steady yourself, but you can feel the walls you’ve built around your emotions crumbling.

She’s married, Y/N. She’s married. Get over it.

But you can’t.

You feel a pang of guilt. Natasha’s gaze is warm, but there’s an ache in her eyes too—something that makes your heart hurt in a different way. She’s trying. She’s not the woman you left behind. But then again, neither are you. Neither is she.

Her hand rests, trembling, on the table now. She wants to reach out to you, but she’s scared of pushing too hard. You can see it in her eyes—she’s uncertain. She’s terrified of what you might say. Terrified of making it worse. Her fingertips brush against the edge of the table, hesitant, before pulling away. She’s probably wondering if she’s done the right thing. Wondering if she was wrong to move on, to make this decision without you, without this—whatever you two were. She watches you, her gaze softening as if she wants to comfort you, but she doesn’t know how. She doesn’t even know where to begin. She could try to reach for you, but she knows it might make things worse.

"Are you okay?" Natasha asks softly, her voice trembling slightly. She’s staring at you now, as if trying to understand what’s happening inside your head, but you don’t have an answer for her. You don’t even have an answer for yourself.

The silence stretches between you two, heavy with unspoken words, as the noise of the coffee shop crashes around you both, a stark reminder that the world keeps moving. And in it, Natasha is moving forward, and you... you’re left behind.

She regrets it. She regrets this—this distance. This moment. She wants to take it all back. To fix this. To fix you. But she can’t.

The weight of the regret hits her, and she breathes out a slow, steadying breath, her hand trembling on the table. She can feel it too, the unbearable tension between you both, the space that feels like a chasm even though you’re only inches apart.

But you—you’re the one who’s drowning, trying to keep your head above the weight of the memory and the feeling that you were never enough.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, almost too quietly to hear. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted you to feel like this.” Her voice cracks, and she looks away for a second, almost as if she can’t stand seeing you like this, can’t bear the thought of how much she’s hurt you.

But the truth is, she’s already lost you.

And she’s the one who will never be able to move on.

Her words cut deeper than she knows, because you can’t help but wonder—does she really not know? Has she been so caught up in her own life that she hasn’t seen how much this is tearing you apart? Or is it just that she’s moved on, and this is all just… a part of the past to her?

The thought makes your chest tighten. Your breath feels shallow, and you find yourself squeezing your cold drink harder, trying to steady the storm inside. You swallow, but it feels like there’s a lump lodged in your throat, blocking any response. You want to scream, to tell her everything, to make her understand how much it hurts to see her here, happy, with someone else. But the words are gone—lost in the space between your need to cry and the reality of the life she’s chosen without you.

“Why?” The word slips out before you can stop it, raw and desperate and hurt. You didn’t mean to ask it—didn’t want to ask it—but you can’t help it. You need to know.

Natasha’s heart aches at the sound of your voice, the fragility in it. For a moment, she feels as though the floor beneath her might give way. She had hoped—hoped—that you would be okay. That this wouldn’t hurt so much. But the pain is evident, like a raw wound, and it’s impossible to ignore.

Her face crumbles for a moment, and she looks away, as if she’s searching for the right words, for something that might make this hurt less. But there are no words that can make this better. No words that can undo the last few years.

she feels a lump in her throat, the wounds she'd covered, gashes shed mended, all coming undone in this moment.

“I don’t know,” Natasha whispers. “I really don’t know. I thought I could give you what you needed, but… I couldn’t. And I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed me to be.”

Her voice cracks as she says it, and she feels herself breaking inside. She knows you’re hurting, but she’s not sure what she can do to make this right. She had tried—tried so hard—to be what you needed, but she failed. And it kills her that she couldn’t give you the love and stability you deserved. The love she thought she could offer, the love that now feels so distant and ungraspable.

Your heart aches. It’s a contradiction, isn’t it? The way she sounds so guilty, and yet you know deep down that she’s not really sorry for her life—she’s sorry for the fact that she hurt you in the process of living it.

Her words feel hollow to her, and as they leave her lips, she wonders if she’s just prolonging the pain for both of you. She swallows hard, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her ring again. It’s such a small, insignificant gesture, but in this moment, it feels like the biggest thing in the world. It feels like a symbol of everything she’s lost. A symbol of a promise she made to someone else, a promise she can’t go back on.

She wants to reach for you again, but she knows better now. She knows that you’ve already made up your mind—that you’ve already closed the door on what could have been. The door that used to swing open so easily for her, but now only feels heavy and locked.

You look at her, your gaze raw, and for a second, you think you might say something else. You might beg her to take it all back. To come back. But you know you can’t. You know you have to let this go. You feel a deep ache in your chest as you realize that this is the end. The finality of it settles in, and you can’t hold on any longer.

Instead, you take a shaky breath and pull back from the table, your hands folding into your lap as you gather yourself. It’s almost like you’re physically trying to close yourself off, to shield the part of you that still hopes and longs for something that no longer exists.

“Maybe... maybe you were never what I needed either,” you mutter quietly, more to yourself than to her. The words taste bitter on your tongue, and you wish you could take them back as soon as they leave. But it’s true. Somewhere along the way, you lost her. And maybe, just maybe, you lost yourself in the process.

The words hit Natasha like a slap, but it’s the truth. She’s never been able to give you what you needed, and that realization settles like stone in her stomach. She opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something—something to fix it, to undo the damage—but the words die in her throat. They would only make things worse, only deepen the wound between you both.

She doesn’t speak. She can’t. She just watches you, helpless, as you turn away from her, the finality of your departure cutting into her chest like a knife.

You shake your head, unable to meet her gaze. The tears you’ve been holding back for so long feel close now, threatening to spill over. You can’t let them. You won’t. Not here, not in front of her, not when everything feels like it’s already slipping through your fingers.

“I should go,” you say, your voice quieter than you intended. It’s not a demand, it’s not even a decision—it’s just the only thing you can bring yourself to say. You push your chair back, standing up slowly, feeling like your legs might give out beneath you. You feel empty, but in a way, that emptiness is almost worse than the pain.

Her eyes follow you, and Natasha doesn’t try to stop you. She doesn’t ask you to stay. Her hands are folded in her lap, and she’s left with the sense that, somehow, she’s failed you, failed the both of you. She doesn’t think she could stand to watch you walk away again. The understanding in her eyes is quiet, gentle. She knows this is the end.

As you turn to walk away, you hear her raspy voice one last time. “Y/N… I still care about you.”

You stop for a moment, the weight of her words pressing down on you. You want to say something back—anything—but you know it wouldn’t change things. It wouldn’t fix anything.

You don’t respond. Instead, you walk. One foot in front of the other as you push open the door of the coffee shop, the cold New York air hitting your face like a slap. It’s sharp, biting, but somehow, it’s exactly what you need. You step into the busy street, the noise and the rush of people washing over you, but all you can hear is the silence of her absence. Is this it? You think. It has to be.

You keep walking, trying to put one foot in front of the other, but every step feels heavier than the last. You don’t know how you’re supposed to move forward—to move past her. You don’t know if you ever will.

After all, it’s never over.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

a/n: YAYY!! i was so excited to start writing this fic, it’s my drafts since October so i’m happy it’s finally out. i hope you all liked it! it was my first time writing angst and i’m very proud of it, if you guys have any constructive criticism pls give it politely:)

ps: i’m excited to see everyone’s reactions to it, please do share how you feel afterwards <3

[inazuman]

love, pancakes & robots

sae x reader fluff (suggestive) for @pixelcafe-network 's challenge friday!

excerpt: "You," you stab him in the chest with a finger. "Are a robot whisperer."

"I read the instructions on the box like a normal person."

"I did too!"

"Oh really? You can read? That's surprising." He grips your wrist before you can smack him again, eyeing you playfully like he's just daring you to try, pulling you in until his arms are wrapped around you.

“What are you doing?”

Looking for you the moment he's up is rare for Sae. It's the weekend, you love to sleep in, and he's usually heavy enough to keep you tucked into him even if you rise first.

“I was trying to make pancakes." There's a set of ingredients to your left, a plate of half-baked and burnt ones to your right…

"Doesn't look like it's working."

He says the comment off-handedly, but you catch that almost-grin of his before he manages to turn away and you shove him, your hand meeting the hard muscle of his chest. He barely budges, but he presses a hand to himself like you knocked the wind out of him, eyes wide with faux-pain that finally has you out of your pancake-making stoop and laughing.

"It's a fancy pancake maker! The one we got gifted, remember? They're meant to pop out perfectly every time."

"Y'know, there's nothing wrong with making them the old fashioned way." He grabs the box to the side, casually flipping it in his hands.

"This is new tech, Sae! New tech! It's supposed to just spit a pancake out at you like a robot!"

"Like that dumpling maker that doesn't actually roll a dumpling together no matter how you put it in?"

You wave your hand. "That's just proof that dumplings need to be folded with hands and made with love."

"Hmm," Sae puts the box down, pours the pancake mix in along with some chocolate chips.

It pops out perfectly.

"You," you stab him in the chest with a finger. "Are a robot whisperer."

"I read the instructions on the box like a normal person."

"I did too!"

"Oh really? You can read? That's surprising." He grips your wrist before you can smack him again, eyeing you playfully like he's just daring you to try, pulling you in until his arms are wrapped around you.

He dips his head to speak softly in your ear. "Maybe the robot just likes me better."

You pull away from him, tapping your hands on his cheeks. "Then the robot is misogynistic."

"A robot with skewed moral values? Governments might start using it for politics."

He spins you around in his arms so you're both facing the pancake maker, where he pours it in again and watches as it chucks out yet another perfect piece. The pure shock on your face has him chuckling into your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"It's alright. I love you enough for both me and the robot."

He squeezes your waist, and you miss his warmth immediately as he moves towards the doorway.

"Hey! Come back here and do the rest, magic robot man!"

"Mm," he makes an act of considering it, tilting his head. "What do I get in return?"

"Outside of chocolate pancakes?"

"You know I don't care about pancakes." He swoops towards you fast and lifts you up by your thighs, placing you on the countertop, hands on either side of you as he leans in. "So?"

"Well," you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in even closer, "what do you want?"

He grips the back of your calves, tipping you until you're lying flat on the counter, looming above you.

"I think it's clear," he tells you in a low tone, "what I want."

"Sae," Heat rushes through you, hyperaware of everything -- how warm his hands are, the cool countertop underneath you, the way his stature is the only thing that makes a position like this even possible.

"Pancakes first, you try to tell him, your heart beating fast in your chest, "or we'll never eat today."

"You sure?" He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, then one higher up, and it has you gripping at his hand.

"We eat at this table."

"Who says that's not what I'm about to do?"

"You're cruel."

this is my first time doing a challenge!! the prompt i was given was: “What are you doing?” “I was trying to make pancakes but it didn’t exactly work” i hope i've done it justice!!

[mama-qwerty]

Sonic 3 - Shadow

My hopes for Shadow’s portrayal in Sonic 3 were that they’d show him not as the ill-tempered edgelord, but as the grieving, hurt child he truly was. And I was not disappointed.

Sonic 3 spoilers ahead

The movie opens with Shadow in containment, suspended in a holding vat of fluid to keep him under control. He’d been in this suspended status for 50 years, and now he was waking up. As he awoke, his memories flashed of his time at the facility, where he met Maria and developed a close friendship with her.

He woke up and chose violence. All he remembered was losing Maria, and before him stood the same organization that took her from him. The same uniforms, the same aggressive stance. To him, that raid at the facility was still fresh. It happened very, very recently. We’re not privy to the timeline between when the raid happened and when he was put into stasis, but I don’t think it was longer than maybe an hour. If that.

So from his perspective, these could very well be the same people who had raided the facility and murdered his friend. Maybe he thought the raid was still going on. So he was thrust into a fight or flight situation, and did both—take down the enemy, and then retreat to regroup.

Except he found himself in a very different environment than he’d ever experienced. He’d only known the inside of a government facility. Tokyo was bright, and loud, and big, and there were so many people. But GUN wouldn’t leave him be, and he found himself fighting yet again.

And then these three other creatures showed up. Ones who were more like him than any he’d seen before. Especially the blue one, which was strange and confusing. He was the only alien on Earth, wasn’t he? He was different than anything else the scientists had ever seen. But there was another who looked like him? With two other equally strange creatures trying to stop him?

No matter. They were working with GUN, so they were the enemy.

And again, he took them down, and retreated.

Because ultimately, Shadow was dealing with anger, grief, confusion, and pain. He didn't know what to do with all that, because the person who helped him understand himself better was gone. Everything he knew was gone. The people he and Maria had trusted had turned on them, killed Maria, locked him away, and taken Gerald from him. He's lashing out because he doesn't know what else to do. All he's been faced with his entire life was pain and mistreatment, except for Maria, and they killed her.

Shadow has no idea who or what he is. He came from space, but he doesn’t remember anything before that. He’s on this planet with creatures who look nothing like him, being poked and prodded for who knows how long. Being studied and experimented on because he’s different, and has powers no one’s seen before. No one looked upon him with kindness, or reached for him with gentle hands.

Until Maria.

She looked at him and didn’t see an alien. A monster. A creature with unimaginable power.

She saw a lonely little boy. And she reached out to him.

Who knows how long it took him to trust her. When she first found him in his tube, he didn’t seem very interested. He’d likely had scientists of all kinds coming through to gawk at him, to stare at him and pluck his quills and shave some fur and take some blood, all the while never speaking to him. He was just a thing to be studied. An oddity to figure out.

But this girl was different. She would come and talk to him as he floated in his watery prison. Draw on the glass. Maybe she even taught him to speak, and read. And over time, maybe he looked forward to her visits. And she became more bold to sneak him out of the lab when the scientists ran their experiments.

We don’t know Gerald’s relationship with Shadow. The most we see is after Gerald had gone mad from his own grief from losing Maria. Maybe he thought Maria would tame this creature, and allow him to be more successfully controlled for whatever Gerald wanted. Maybe he actually did care about Shadow, at least somewhat, and the raid on the facility—he claimed they were actually after Shadow as he dragged them behind him in an attempt to escape—made him blame Shadow for Maria’s death.

We don’t know.

But when Shadow saw Gerald again at the abandoned facility, he was relieved. Finally a familiar face. Someone he could trust, and ask questions about what was going on, and what their next step should be. And when Gerald corralled Shadow into this quest for vengeance, Shadow went along with it because he trusted Gerald. And it felt right to want to hurt those who’d hurt Maria. It felt productive to turn that anger outward onto the people who deserved it.

Except . . . it didn’t.

Gerald said this was what Maria would have wanted. Shadow wasn’t so sure that was right. But he was still running on pain, and he looked to Gerald for guidance, just as he had looked to Maria for it.

So he did as he was told. Capturing the others when they’d found the facility. Initiating the black hole that swallowed the facility and destroyed all evidence of the torture, the pain, the love and acceptance he’d endured in his time on Earth. Taking every shred of evidence of Maria, and erasing it.

Did it feel good to him in that moment? Having all those reminders of her wiped away?

Or did it just make that ache in his heart worse? Because it was like losing her again. And now it was as if she’d never existed. No roller skates. No guitar. No little tent with the stars and lights casting a warm glow inside.

Just . . . gone.

Just like her.

Focus. He had to focus. Gerald had a plan. And if he said this is what people deserved, then Shadow would believe him.

So he stayed behind as Gerald and the other Robotnik infiltrated GUN. Tried to focus on the bigger picture.

But that nagging little thought remained.

When things went south at GUN, he stepped in, took the key from Walters. It had felt satisfying to deliver a blow to one of the men who’d been there that day, all those years ago.

Only it wasn’t Walters. It was . . . someone else. Someone that blue hedgehog cared about very much. And oh, that brought back painful memories. And that pain he’d felt that day—so long ago but so fresh to him—flared anew, and he’d felt so, so guilty for causing that pain to someone else.

No. That didn’t matter. Whoever this was had been in Shadow’s way. He had a mission to complete. He’d only done what he’d had to.

Aboard the ARK, he continued to question the validity of this plan. But Gerald assured him this was what Maria would have wanted. So he went along with it. Things were moving the way Gerald wanted.

But that ache in his chest refused to go away.

And then a golden something hit him, smashing him out of the ARK, and drawing him into a fight. It was the blue hedgehog, and whatever power flowed through him bled out and merged with the power inside Shadow himself, changing him as well.

And it had felt so good to fight. To unleash his strength upon someone who was hurting as much as he was. Someone who understood his pain, someone who wanted revenge as badly as he did. It was normal to want to hurt the person who’d hurt someone you loved.

Because Shadow was tired of living with the pain. He didn’t understand how he could want to hurt others, to get revenge, but at the same time felt wrong for doing so. But he’d hurt someone the blue hedgehog cared for, and if Shadow could have his revenge, then so could the other hedgehog.

But the blue hedgehog wasn’t fighting as fiercely as he should have been. So Shadow had taunted. He’d poked. He’d pushed and eventually gotten the other hedgehog so angry, Shadow had been taken by surprise.

But that was okay. That’s what he wanted. An eye for an eye. A pain for a pain.

He was tired. He was confused. He was hurt, and guilty, and just wanted to stop seeing her face every time he closed his eyes. Didn’t want to hear her voice in the quiet moments. Feel her hands as they gave a gentle tug on his quills, or massaged his ears after a bad batch of testing.

She had been his safe haven on this planet that seemed to want nothing more than to hurt him.

And now she was gone.

And he didn’t know who he was without her. Didn’t know what he was or where he belonged, if not with her.

So he ordered the other hedgehog to end him. Practically begged him.

But he hadn’t. He’d stopped, a look of almost horror on his face as he’d released Shadow.

And they’d talked. And Shadow had found someone else who understood his pain. Felt it, but didn’t let it consume him. Didn’t let it change him.

And this other hedgehog gave Shadow a chance to decide for himself what he would do. Decide what kind of person he wanted to be.

Because that’s what Maria wanted for Shadow. To discover who he was, and who he wanted to be. To find his own place in the world, to be happy.

And so Shadow chose.

He helped the blue hedgehog save the planet, and used the last of his strength to make sure the ARK was far enough away so the final explosion wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

And in those final moments, he thought of Maria, and kept her love for him in his heart.

He acted not out of pain, or out of revenge or anger.

He acted out of love.

~~~

Check out my other Sonic 3 analysis posts

[fuqnia]

SP Main Four + butters !College AU Relationship Headcanons

[☆] A/N | hii guys! i recently hit 500 likes on tumblr and i'm like so speechless... i never wouldve thought people would be interested in reading my stupid little writing hehe, so tysm! my long fic, most wanted, is coming to a close soon, and I have been working on another longfic that's a fem!reader insert x main 4 boys in college! i'm also probably going to write a more realistic/sadder headcanons, because this one was toothachingly sweet </3

[☆] C/W | NSFW under the cut, this is also for f!reader, but i'm open to writing a gn!reader or m!reader in the future

[☆] check out my !college au headcanons for the boys + butters here!

☆ stan marsh

hopeless romantic

will definitely do the most cheesy things for you

has a mixtape of songs that remind him of you

writes love letters, but never gives them to you

feels everything deeply, he's a big ol' baby

late night talks about his fears and dreams

craves emotional intimacy and trust w/ you

super duper attentive to your needs

will put you over himself

overthinks

enjoys laid-back dates! like movie dates, thrifting, strolls

gets jealous reallyyy easily

wont outright admit it tho

very insecure, if someone flirts with u, he'll just sulk LOL

avoids confrontations at all costs

not afraid to cry in front of you

vomits on you if you do something really provocative to him

always offer his jacket/hoodie to you

loves holding your hand

laces his fingers thru yours and swings your hands

goofy ah grin when you surprise him with kisses

big on cuddling

gets super flustered when his friends teases him about you

obsessed with your laugh

keeps a picture of you in his wallet

NSFW

sooo nervous during your first time with him

very eager to please!

takes his time learning what you like

kisses every inch of your body

starts with your lips and works his way down

definitely a soft dom

"does this feel good?" "tell me if you want me to stop"

loves holding your hand while in you

eats your p out like your his last meal

i think he would be more into receiving than giving, but doesn't mind giving at all!

gets shy when you compliment him and tell him how good he is making you feel

prefers gentle sex, unless you want it rough

his entire body flushes red when you tease his cock

like palming thru his shorts, or pressing quick kisses to his tip

loves to cum in your mouth

goes crazy if he gets to paint your face tho

i'm sorry but this man is into creampies...

gets turned on when you're really emotional/crying from him pleasuring you

favorite position is definitely cowgirl

definitely an ass man, loves squishing/pinching your skin

kisses your forehead, cheeks and lips after going down on you

i think he would also be kinda quiet, wouldn't let out that many moans

☆ kyle broflovski

shows his love thru actions rather than words

remembers every anniversary, even the little ones :)

makes detailed itineraries for dates

even though he's a yapper, he definitely enjoys listening to you

fiercely loyal

takes no disrespect towards you

ready to work anyone's shit as so much as they look at you funny

probably would like someone who would challenge him intellectually

needs you to have the same core values as him

DO NOT DO PDA WITH THIS MAN

he will just look at you with pure disgust if you even attempt to...

but will secretly hold hands under the table or sneak a kiss when no one is looking

puts too much pressure on himself to be perfect for you

always notices this little things about you

oh you changed your nail color? you applied your makeup differently?

will blush like crazy when you compliment him

awkwardly rubs the back of his neck

will get irrationally jealous

tries to hide it by cracking sarcastic jokes

writes you long thoughtful texts when your apart, updates you about his day, asks you how yours went

becomes super attentive when your sad or stressed

wraps you in a blanket, makes you tea

i feel like he'd hate the feeling of having a crush

but once he's in a relationship, lowkey a romantic, buy you books he'd think you'd like, jewelry that compliments your skin tone

NSFW

overthinks everything at first

constantly asks "is this okay? are you sure?"

like i said, super attentive, he needs to make sure you're okay

loves eye contact while fucking you

gets really shy when you take control but secretly loves it

prefers slow deliberate strokes and touches

has a thing for neck kisses– both giving and receiving

talks your through it

"you're perfect" "you feel so good"

gets competitive if you tease him about lasting longer

please kiss his freckles... he'll go absolutely feral

not afraid to leave hickeys, scratches or nail prints on you

wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck and his life is yours LOL

i think missionary would be his favorite position

needs to see your face

it's his life mission to make you squirt...

loves fingering you

sit on his face ?

super embarrassed about his moans, but lets it out anyways lmfao

loves your titties, no matter the size

will beg you to let him cum in you

☆ kenny mccormick

we all know kenny is a natural flirt

will wink, smirk, and use cheesy pick-up lines to make you blush

loves physical affection

always has an arm around your waist

makes you laugh constantly

goes to extreme lengths to see you smile, whether it's his silly pranks or grand gestures

draws little hearts and doodles on your notebooks/texts

if he's super bored, he'll draw on your skin lmfao

super duper protective— he'll walk you home late at night and make sure you're always safe

loves taking you on adventurous dates, especially sneaking into places you're not supposed to be

calls you "babe," "sweetheart," or "princess" with that drawl of his hehe

not above embarrassing himself, will write cringe worthy poems or songs and serenade you

immediately notices when you're a little bit off

pulls you into a hug, rubbing your back

buys you little trinkets and steals snacks from eric, saying, "i saw this and thought of you!"

obsessed with kissing you, he'll lean in for a quick peck and smirks when he notices your smile

immediately goes back in for a longer kiss

i think he's super good at braiding hair, and loves playing with yours!

please wear his band tees <3

NSFW

super duper confident, definitely knows what he's doing

loves teasing you, using soft kisses and touches to drive you crazy before giving in

worships your body, tracing every curve with his lips and hands

like kyle, adores it when you take charge and being at your mercy

whispers dirty things in your ear, his voice low and sultry

"you're so fuckin' beautiful babe, I can't get enough of you."

VOCAL AS FUCK ! he'll groan, sigh, whisper your name, letting you know exactly how good you're making him feel

has a downright pornographic moan....

obviously a boob guy, he'll suck and manhandle your tits like there's no tomorrow

will cop a feel secretly infront of others as well LOL

also a thigh and neck guy—he'll kiss, nip, and mark you like he's marking a claim on you

definitely cums alot.... i'm sorry lmfao

dirty as fuck as well... spits in your mouth, puts his fingers in your mouth, making you suck him

taps his tip against your tongue, smearing his precum all over your lips

a big fan of sloppy toppy, grabbing your hair and face fucking you

he's tew good with his tongue... and so so messy when eating you out

will not hold back with his noises, literally slurping ???

loves loves loves overstimulation

favorite position is mating press, loves looking at where you guys connect

cusses when he cums

will crack some corny joke afterward to make you laugh,

"so... we're pretty good at this, huh?" and giggles like a schoolgirl

loves cuddling afterwards!

☆ eric cartman

definitely does grand gestures

brags to everyone about being in a relationship

"yeah, she's lucky to have me."

nobody believes that...

hates PDA in theory, but secretly loves it when you grab his hand or kiss his cheek

he'll complain, but his blushing face gives him away

sends you the most random memes and videos throughout the day as his way of saying he's thinking abt you <3

gets ridiculously competitive when it comes to impressing you

if someone else buys you flowers, he'll show up with a bouquet and stuffed animal, screaming profanities at the other person

jealousss to the max

glares daggers at everyone he perceives a threat, coming up with some sick and twisted plan is his head to take 'em down

gets super pouty when you tease him, but loves the banter between the two of you "i'm not fat, i'm big-boned and you know it!"

will absolutely demand you come over to "study", but in reality he just wants to spend time with you hehehe

has a soft spot when you baby him a little

like brushing his hair or adjusting his hoodie, he'll pretend to hate it but he's melting inside

if you're upset, he'll try to cheer you up in his own weird way...

usually a mix of crude jokes and awkward affection ??

please don't cry infront of him, he'll just panic

keeps a picture of you on his phone as his lock screen, and gets super defensive if anyone points it out

"shut up kahl! it's not even a big deal!"

gaslights the hell out of you, but eventually gives in when he realizes you'll just gaslight him back

will bring you up in any and every conversation, and doesn't care if it annoys the fuck out of his friends

proudly shows off your achievements and loudly declare that you're the bestest girlfriend in the world !

until you piss him off...

NSFW

talks a big game about being dominant and kinky

but he's secretly all about soft and sensual moments with you <3

loves loves loves being in control, rarely lets you take the lead

he needs to boost his ego somehow!

will grab your jaw to force you to look at him, his nails pressing hard into your cheeks

"awe, my poor baby is being fucked too dumb, can't even speak properly"

i'm sorry, but this man never shuts up in bed

whether it's dirty talk or low/breathy moans, he's always yapping

really mean too ):

depending on his mood, he'll either take you to pound town, or just veryy lazy sex

gets flustered if you tell him how good he's making you feel, and fails majorly covering it up

"well, duh. i'm amazing."

loves leaving hickeys—he'll mark you in places just barely hidden, so you're always reminded your his.

obsessed with the fat of your ass and tits, doesn't matter the size—he's all about kisses and touches

will 100% lose focus if you whisper in his ear

his cocky demeanor crumbles instantly, and he's completely at your mercy

gets embarrassed easily if you get too emotional, crying and pawing at his chest that you feel too good

this man does not own a single condom... he'll just pull out and paint your stomach

edges you when he's in a particularly bad mood, and only gives in when you're begging

definitely prefers receiving over giving, but likes the feeling of your walls clamping down on his fingers

asks you to stick out your tongue so he can see the load he blew LMFAOO WHY DID I WRITE THIS

i can't decide if he'd prefer doggy style or cowgirl, so ig just depends on his mood?

has a secret stash of candles or mood lighting for when things get "serious"

will deny deny deny it if anyone ever finds out.

his aftercare is surprisingly sweet— he'll tuck you in, grab snacks, and make sure you're comfortable before he starts pretending he doesn't care <3

☆ butters stotch

is THE definition of doting boyfriend

he'll write you sweet notes and hide them in your bag for you to find later

always asks for your opinion on everything

from what outfit he should wear to what movie the two of you should watch

he just wants to make you happy 😭

blushes like crazy when you compliment him, his hands fidgeting nervously as he stammers out a thank you

will call you every nickname under the sun

"sweet pie," "honeybunch," "cutie patootie"

he's so genuine it's impossible not to grab his cheeks and smile

loves holding hands—it makes him feel safe and connected to you

like stan, he'll swing your arms as you walk, grinning ear to ear

will apologize profusely for the tiniest things, even if it's not his fault

"oh, gosh, i’m sorry! did I step on your toe?"

keeps a running list of all your favorite things so he can surprise you with thoughtful gifts or dates!

if you're upset, he'll bake you cookies or cupcakes and sit with you until you feel better

"it's okay to cry, you know. i'm here."

absolutely adores cuddling, but gets super shy at first

once he's comfortable, he's wrapping you in the coziest of hugs

brings you flowers he picked from the campus quad, tied with a little ribbon

"i hope you like ‘em! i thought they were real purdy."

gets starry-eyed whenever you talk about your dreams or passions

he's your biggest cheerleader and believes you can do anything!

definitely giggles as you try to kiss all over his face

allows you to paint his nails, so you both can match

kisses your scratches/bruises whenever you get hurt, then patches you up himself

takes candid photos of you, so he'll always remember the feeling of moments with you <3

NSFW

don't let this man fool you...

he'll act all nervous and shy at first

he'll blush bright red when you undress in front of him

he'll nervously kiss every inch of your skin, murmuring soft compliments as he goes

he'll shyly ask, "is it okay if i touch you there?"

like he's not about to have you begging for him to keep going

once he realizes how much you're into it, he flips a switch

suddenly his shy little kisses turn into biting your lip

pinning you down

murmuring in a low voice, "i'll take care of you, baby"

he'll start slow, watching you squirm under his touch

but he's secretly enjoying the power of making you lose control

SLEEPER AGENT OF KINK

you think he's all soft neck kisses and hand-holding

then he's tugging your hair, love bites on your shoulder

and growling in your ear, "you like that, don't you?"

his hands, his mouth, and his cock alternate between gentle and rough to keep you on edge <3

the moans he'll let out would be so loud and unrestrained

completely enamored with your body

big fan of overstimulation

thrives on praise

eager to learn as well!!

positions where he can see everything—your expressions, your body, the way you react to his touch—drive him wild

not afraid to try something new!

and when it's all over, he's right back to his soft and sweet self

kissing your forehead and pulling you into his arms like he wasn't doing unspeakable things to you five minutes ago.

can you still guess who my favorite is... 💀 also i'm so sorry for whatever this was

[mymoshangthoughts]

i think i have the unpopular opinion that airplane is an egotist lol

i do enjoy reading fics where he's like "i dont deserve good things, this guy is way out of my league" and i do totally get where people are coming from when they characterize him that way but more and more lately im just like

"what about the comments?"

like i dont think that airplane has a SUPER high opinion of himself, but i think he's just kinda... confident? like when he reads fucking essays online about how his writing sucks he's able to laugh his ass off over it and even join in the fray. so i keep thinking rather than him being like "i dont deserve this nice thing", he'd more have a "SCORE! nice thing for me!! WHOO!" reaction. and when a bad thing happened, instead of being super "this is the saddest day of my life, someone was mean to me", he'd be more "omfg did you like fr waste your time being mean to me? thats actually pretty embarrassing for you lmfao, r u oki bro?"

like kinda that terminally online asshole internet troll of a person who just doesnt take shit seriously and has enough self esteem to just legitimately not give a fuck when someone is shitty

ofc it's different with demons who can literally skin him alive, theres a huge difference between someone saying "youre ugly" and someone breaking every bone in his body, so its not like he doesn't cower when necessary

but also inwardly he just has the confidence to not be effected much by cowering. like "lol imma hug this thigh bc i aint stupid but the fact that this asshole needs me to hug his thigh says a looottttt more about him than it says about me"

idk im just kinda wanting to see more unapologetically confident airplane who just does not give a fuck about anyones opinion so long as the opinion is coming from someone who cant actually fuck him over in a significant way. like sha hualing? obvs care about her opinion, she can gut him. some rando disciple? "lmfao out of my way loser, im gay"

also i kinda wanna see that confidence stripped away until he's a mewling mess but thats just my desire to break down confident characters and make them cry pfff

its so much funnier to me if airplane was actually a pretty impervious sort of person, it's only the extreme nature of his current situation that turned him into a crybaby lmfao

idk if im making sense, i just kinda think of airplane as being a hilarious mixture of "the most self assured guy you've ever met, to an obnoxious extent" and "wait does he have any self esteem at all?!? is he okay?!?" in a fun contradictory way, cuz thats the impression i got of him from canon

also modern au mobei jun getting Very upset bc it feels absolutely impossible to get under airplane's skin. like he's sitting here trying his best to get a reaction and airplane is just "lmfao yea but idgaf abt your opinion sooooooooo"

look, i also think it'd just be awesome if mobei jun is actually most attracted to the egotistical side of shang qinghua. like sure, he thinks that cowering sobbing pathetic hamster shang qinghua is delicious, but give him shang qinghua cackling arrogantly at his detractors with the air of an emperor? mobei jun might actually faint with desire

so like, mobei jun visiting an ding peak so much initially because shang qinghua is sus as fuck and all that jazz, but eventually he's sneaking in as often as possible so that he gets to peak that side of shang qinghua.

like he first notices it when shang qinghua is too absorbed in his paperwork to remember there's a demon lord casually napping on his bed and starts making fun of the lousy penmanship, his fellow disciples, other peak lords, no one is except from his sharp mocking tongue and laughing criticism. but he notices it more and more

someone comes to qinghua's door to throw their weight around? sure, qinghua acts all small and harmless with them there but when they leave, he's cackling about "annndd that pathetic loser thinks that no one knows abt his porn stache, pssshhh, get on my level pleb. especially with your frankly boring as fuck tastes" and qinghua has a dirty sense of humor too and it's sort of driving mobei jun insane

so maybe sometimes he shows up at the peak without announcing his presence, trying to peak what sort of shit that shang qinghua might say about him behind his back and mmaaaayyybbe mobei jun is a bit excited at the prospect and disappointed when it's difficult to hear his name on shang qinghua's tongue

until one glorious day when his timing is just right and shang qinghua is neck deep in the middle of northern desert paperwork and he lets loose and mobei jun isnt sure whats worse: the things that shang qinghua's biting insults are doing to him or how, in stark comparison to the way that shang qinghua insults to others, all of shang qinghua's insults are accompanied by dirty commentary about mobei jun's body and potential sexual prowess in a quite positive light. normally shang qinghua is all "lmfao mr. never-gonna-get-fucked qi-ge is gonna tell me what to do? tough shit my lil bitch, i might be your daddy but i know the full depth of malicious compliance! go back to your brat-kink with jiu-whatever. you might as well be dickless for all the success you've had, mr. virgin mcbitch" but with mobei jun it's a lot more like "oh so mr. sexier than the fucking literal god of this world could have imagined in his dirtiest dreams wants this paperwork by next week? unreasonable brat, so spoiled, i should spoil him, he'd look reeeeaallly hot when spoiled absolutely rotten beneath me hehehh wait above me? hm, anyway, he's being a little bitch but i'll forgive it for that face but also man i wanna just pinch those fucking cheeks sometimes and then--man i bet he'd be really fucking wild in the sack to and--"

absolutely charmed by the display, mobei jun immediately reveals himself and beats shang qinghua senseless as a very clear indication of his intentions. to his absolute dismay, he never hears shang qinghua insulting him again and he doubles the beatings in desperation to somehow get shang qinghua's attention

(shang qinghua does not, in fact, have any actual bad blood against his zhangmen-shixiong, he just has a bad habit of going for the throat when he's in the middle of a tirade bc he was once an internet troll who shamelessly thrived on the anonymity of being able to say anything to anyone. he just really likes to talk shit and if he was in a position of power, would absolutely abuse it to talk shit alllll the time lmfao)

anyway i got pretty off topic bUT MY POINT IS that shang qinghua is best (imho) when he is a shameless egotistical shit-talker who's more or less impervious to the criticism of others

((man just fucking IMAGINE mobei jun's reaction when the ascension ceremony happens? like he FINALLY gets shang qinghua to talk shit to his face no less and then IMMEDIATELY gets abandoned. and like, it was kinda Really Bad Timing and also mobei jun never really wanted to just be a passive participant! he wanted to retort back! he wanted a back and forth! he wanted to refute shang qinghua's claims that he was spoiled just as much as he wanted to hear those claims! he wants the push and pull!!!! SO WHY IS SHANG QINGHUA RUNNING AWAY THAT FUCKING TEASE?!?!))

also as a general note i do think that shang qinghua's whole impervious thing is prolly routed in a lot of the trauma of being unwanted by family and all of that stuff, there was no one around to build his ego up so he built it up all on his own and he's really fucking good at building things up

[revelboo]

You really write really good stories ✨👌.although I'm already quite addicted to it lol, I literally go offline for 3 days for work and when I come back to read in 10 minutes I've already read everything🫠. btw the "everything will be okay" plot is really good and I'm WILD with Earthspark stories (it became my favorite series and there are almost no Earthspark stories🤧)

I’m just having fun writing my nonsense

Give Up/Give In Pt 13

TF Earthspark Megatron x Reader

• They’re trying to help. He knows it. Appreciates it. Even if he wants to growl. Just wanting a peaceful meal with you, a chance to sit and talk alone. Not realizing Dorothy and the kids would try to help. Alex had cooked for him, and Hashtag and Twitch had found an enormous plaid blanket to spread out under the tree in the yard. Jawbreaker and the others had found old holiday decorations and bit of broken glass and strung them up in the branches so the sun dapples the grass and blanket in a kaleidoscope of blues and greens. As much as he appreciates the effort, none of it was by his hand for you and it bothers him. You, though? You’re smiling as you tip your head back to look at the tree. “Is this alright?” He asks.

• “It’s gorgeous.” And it is, the kids working to help Megatron spreading warm through you. Even if you’d heard Hashtag whisper something about ‘Team Romance’ to Twitch. The two seeming to not understand that you’re a human and Megatron is, well, Megatron. Completely incompatible, but it is sweet. “I love it.” Easing down on the blanket, you watch Megatron lower himself across from you, still towering over you as he leans his arms on his knees.

• Nudging the tiny basket of food closer to you, he reaches for an energon cube while you make a plate. Wishes he could mass shift, but it’s too risky with Starscream and the other Seekers at large. Can’t leave himself and you vulnerable. “What else do you love?” Your little face tips up, expressive face surprised by the question and he likes that you’re so easy to read, that he doesn’t have to wonder about your motives. “Tell me,” he adds gently, trying to not demand, but he wants to know everything about you. Who you are. What you like.

• Shoulders lifting in a shrug, you push your food around on your plate. “Not much to tell. Honestly, I just work and go home. Pretty boring.” And sad now that you think about it. No real personal life. A job you don’t care for, but can’t quit because there’s so few prospects in a small town. Too scared to try for a bigger city, so you’d gotten stuck. Still are.

• Venting, he reaches to tip your chin up. Making you meet his optics. “What do you like to do? What dreams keep you going?” He asks, voice taking on a wistful edge. Because dreams seldom go the way planned. His dreams of a better world, of freedom had led to a war that had ravaged his home. Reaching up to touch his servo, you offer him a smile.

• “I played violin as a kid. Wasn’t great at it, but I had fun,” you admit, eyes closing. “I used to dream I could be great. That I could play and people would care.” It sounds so silly. You hadn’t wanted to be rich or famous, just wanted to play well enough the music would make people feel something real. “I doubt i even remember how to play anymore.” Laughing softly, you gently push his servo away.

• “You’ll play for me.” It’s not a request, it’s a demand, but you still smile for him. Wants to hear you play, to lose yourself in something that makes you happy. Desperately wants to see you happy and relaxed. Spark warming when you tell him okay. And you take turns sharing things. He sketches out the war and his mistakes in the broadest strokes he can, not wanting you to know just how awful he is. But needing you to know that side of him is there. Listens to you talk about your family in return, offering him little glimpses of who you are. It’s dark by the time he remembers his deal. That he’d promised to take you home. That home isn’t with him.

• “Are you ready to go?” Heart speeding as he plants a palm on the ground and stands, you want to say no. To ask to stay. To take up even more of his time, all of it he’ll allow. You like talking to him, listening to that rumbling voice. Like the warmth of his big servos when he touches your arm or cheek. Like him. But know this can’t go anywhere, that eventually he’ll get tired of your clinging, so you make yourself nod and smile like you’re okay when you’re not.

• Transforming and dropping his ramp, he can feel you walk inside his alt mode. A little hand brushing a wall as you look around his cargo hold and he feels when you hesitate. Making him remember that he’s not had time to clean up, that your blood is still there. “It’s alright,” he says softly, closing his ramp. “You’re safe here.” And you move through him lingering just inside the cockpit while he waits on you to find somewhere to settle. “Sit anywhere.”

• “Sorry,” you murmur, slipping into one of the pilot seats. Because it’s still weird that he’s this giant aircraft now and that you can just walk around inside him. Can he see you or is he just feeling you moving around? Isn’t that weird to him? Sinking into the seat, you look at all the dials and controls and feel a momentary twist of the surreal. Because this is still Megatron. Different, but still him. When the rotors start up, you touch the harness wondering if you need to strap in.

• “You’re shaking, little one.” He can feel you trembling as your little fingers ghost over his harness, touching the yoke when he shifts it. Nervous and wide eyed. “Are you sure this is what you want?” To go home instead of staying with him? Safe where he can watch over you? And your fingers grip his harness. Hates that you’re so frightened right now, because this isn’t a threat he can destroy or attack.

• No. It’s not what you want at all. Frozen, you want to be greedy. To not go back to the real world. To steal a little more time. Listen to him and ask him questions, because what you’ve seen so far doesn’t mesh up with the stories you’ve heard. He’s not a monster, not cruel or vicious. He’s gentler than you’d expected. “I want to stay,” you whisper, the words so soft there’s no way he can hear them over the sound of his rotors, but they slow and stop. Hear him rumble around you. “I want to stay with you.”

Previous

Constructicons: Some assembly required. Can I just ride around in Scavenger’s scoop?

[hummingbird-games]

2024 in Review (Indie Games)

2023 | 2022 | 2021

Helloooo gamer friends!!!

I'm so tired.

Lol.

Anyhoo, y'all don't care about that!!! Y'all are here to see what games I played and what the heck I have to say about them! Reminders: I don't bash games I didn't like, and I try to post more in-depth thoughts and reviews and general yapping to Gem's Game Gems.

DEMOS

When Stars Collide - I am by no means a sci-fi girlie. I need a HEAPING dose of fantasy or fantasy elements to help me out. That said, y'all might remember how I went feral for Gilded Shadows, so I am locked in for this journey with WSC. It's just as mysterious and lore intense as GS, but also just as intriguing and engaging!

Love Me, Love Me Not - I looooove when a game charms me to pieces??? Our MC Addie, the introduced LIs, the story, the art??? Where do I begin?? Anyway, please check this one out y'all! I'm impatient for the full game (shocker, I know).

Threads of You: Beyond the Bay - So my thoughts and reactions for this one are on the side blog, but I really enjoyed the demo and I have eyes for Chris, Vince, and Alex hehehe.

Lost in Limbo - While I'd been keeping tabs on this game for what seems forever because of the character art that originally caught my attention, I almost didn't finish the demo because it was lowkey disturbing (I'm a wimp and not all horror is made equal). But!!! BUT!!!! I push through to the end, had a good time, noted that I need to play the full game in the daylight with the music turned down low. And I absolutely adore Ara and Xal so, so much.

A Simple Twist of Fae - Absolutely no one cares, but I read a lot of manga this year. Like, a lot-a lot. Like, ~180 books and 1/3 of that was manga. Anyhoo, When JMB announced she was cooking up this game, I was impatient to get my grubby hands on it. AND THEN I PLAYED IT AND IT WAS THE SHOJO INSPIRED GAME OF MY DREAMS?!?! Like.....I wish I could both have it on my computer and also on my bookshelf. Final build dropping when??? (Also the UI design is utterly delightful, I cry.)

The Summit Library (FULL DEMO) - The last time I reviewed this game, we got chapter 1 as a taste, and I was. Locked! In!! The full demo gives us the first 2 chapters as well as the previews for all the romance routes and while giving everyone a whirl I'm *still* undecided on who to go for in the future, I must mention this: TSL is so aspec friendly???? I do love a game with smut, don't get me wrong looks at College Craze but sometimes I have my moments of being overwhelmed/sliiiiiiightly repulsed and the variety of options you have to choose how you react and interact with the various LIs in this game is amazing. (I have more thoughts on this, so I'll try to remember to post to the sideblog, but please understand that this game is totally worth your attention and time imo!!!)

Fully Released & Played (at least 1 playthrough)

Rabbit Trail - This. Game. Is. SO. Cute. *punches the air* 😭🥹(Copy + paste of my review on the itch.io page -> This was so charming, so fluffy, so cozy, just delightful all around??? I've only reached one ending so far, but René is just the cutest protag to play as, and his interactions as he delivers his mail made me cheese so dang hard! (Also, I wanted to fight his parents for not properly appreciating their kid LOL))

Stuck by Design - I checked this game out because I was looking into games that fellow programmers had worked on, and this cozy game stumbled onto my lap. The music was perfect, the UI is beautiful and clean, and I thoroughly enjoyed the performance of the VA for the LI, Yuki.

Wake Me Up If You Need Me - I called this game older!HSDJY MC x Ryan coded and I'm still right. The voice actor MAKES this game, and the interactions the player has with Reed is so flippin' delightful?? All my love and adoration to the game developer. May they make more beautiful games.

CTRL FREAK - The developer team brought us The Faithfulness of the Universe which is a banger in its own right, and CTRL FREAK is the team's commercial, finished project that I also found delightful. The soundtrack and the animations are chef's kiss 💛

Breathless Winds - Ooo, baby, ooo. So. If there is only one game you play from this list and you have some spare cash to spend (at the time of writing, the game is on sale!!!) please, please, check this one out. It left me absolutely spellbound, both the orginal demo, and then the full game. While I didn't get to blog fully about this one, and I only tackled 2 of the 4 routes, this game is absolutely everything. This is my indie game of the year. Poppy and her journey resonated with me, and between the music and the art, everything just came together so perfectly.

Wake Up Magical Girl - Listen TF up, if miseri creates it, I'm gonna play it, idc, idc. That being said...this game had a kick to it that when I finished my first playthrough, I had to stare off into space and gather myself. It takes the concept of magical girls and heroism and gave me a teeny tiny existential crisis, but other than that, I'm fine, it's fine, play this game, thank you.

Sleeping Under Spells - God, I love me a game where I get to argue with a LI. I love it. Bonus points if it's lowkey stupid stuff we're bickering over LOL!!

Our Wonderland - Yeah, uh huh, you thought you'd escape me talking about this game this year, didn't yah???? Too bad. The fifth and final arc dropped this year and I played it and I cried and felt for the briefest moments that life was okay. To say something different than my review of last year, I love that this seems to be the game that helps fellow ace devs find and flock to each other, I'm not kidding 🤣 so thank you Carrot for helping us fellow aspec peeps feel seen and validated and understood!

I Watched a Full Game Playthrough and Highly Recommend

Replay Boys - Okay so technically at the time of posting, there's still one more video I'm waiting to watch (Naja of BlerdyOtome uploaded her stream to YouTube) but my Godddddd. I've had my eye on this game for FOREVER but I was lowkey waiting for it to move to itch.io (I'm still a lowkey Steam hater 🥹) anyhoo, watching this absolutely wild game made me go ahead and buy a copy for myself to replay at a later time, but it's just great. The summary only scratches this surface of what the game entails 🤣

Gemi’s Gushies

(a list within a list of games that have devs trucking along in the background and I want to spotlight for y’all)

Save the Villainess - Life got away with me and unfortunately I never finished my play of the demo BUT what I have played was fun and I hope to return to this in the new year!

Woman of Xal 2 - Plot Twist Studios is on that Sequel Train with the next installment of WoX!!! Which I'm VERY excited for!!! I've unfortunately only completed one playthrough of this game, but the first game is definitely a masterclass in replayability, and I hope next year I'll be able to do a second playthough as I wait for game 2's Kickstarter!

...

And that's 2024! Any shared favorites?

- Gemini 🫶🏾

[lushrue]

currently in my priceghost era and wanted to write something with price as the more submissive one

cw: nsfw, oral (m/m), light scent kink, sub space

john sat back in his chair, huffing out an exasperated breath. fireworks exploded behind his eyelids as he dug the heels of his hands in, trying to push out the ache of eye strain. a cursory glance at the clock on his desk revealed that it had been six hours since he’d sat down to start on the mountain of paperwork on his desk. six hours of rifling through mission reports, briefing memorandums, and recruit personnel files. six hours of squinting to read tiny print because he wasn’t old enough to require reading glasses, thank you very much.

he could feel the familiar burning pain creeping up into his shoulders, a reminder of the horrid posture he’d been sitting in the whole time. he felt stiff, unnaturally so. on top of it all, he felt tired. it wasn’t his usual training-all-day-and-shouting-at-unruly-sergeants type of tired. this sank into his bones, gave his skeleton a weight it didn’t have before. even the thought of dragging his heavy body all the way back to the barracks made his back ache and his temples pulse.

his mind had been running a million miles a minute for the past week. it seemed like there was an urgent task lurking around each corner, waiting to demand his full attention. nothing could wait until tomorrow, nothing could be put on the back burner until something else was completed. everything needed done yesterday and he found himself struggling to keep up. if only the world would stop spinning for five minutes, he thought to himself. then I could catch up. it was at that moment he remembered the one man who could bring his world to a halt, if only for a little while.

price had a complicated relationship with his lieutenant. the two of them were…something to each other. they’d both chosen not to put a label on it, simply for the fact that it didn’t need one. their relationship was symbiotic, one hand washing the other for the sake of cleaning both of them. it was a fact of nature that simon was there for john in the ways that he needed, and john repaid simon in turn. in their eyes, relationships like that didn’t need a label. barnacles don’t call the whale it hitches a ride on their lover; a clownfish doesn’t commit to the anemone that provides it shelter. they simply exist in this moment in time to serve a purpose for one another, and that was that.

the captain raised himself from his chair, dragging his heavy feet down the hall towards simon’s office. john knew that simon was up to his nose in paperwork just the same as him. the two of them had talked at length over a pack of cigarettes about how a paper trail was inconvenient at best and dangerous at worst. they both had a nasty habit of putting it all off until later and having to burn the midnight oil more than once to make up for it. his knuckles rapped four times against the door, the rhythmic pattern of it identifying who was knocking. simon had developed it, a way to know that the person on the other side of the door was important enough to put down the pen.

he was met with a gruff “come in” from the lieutenant, his fingers trembling slightly as they closed around the doorknob and twisted. when he pushed the door open, the sight of simon, maskless, greeted him. it was rare for simon to go anywhere on base without at least the balaclava on, but the state of his hair showed that he’d just pulled it off. on nights like these, simon didn’t wear it. it was far too important to john to be able to see his face. simon’s eyes were soft, gentle, as they took in the way john stood in his doorway. shoulders slumped, the lines on his face deeper, the bags under his eyes heavier. simon could read any man like a book, but when it came to his captain, he knew things no one else had ever gotten close enough to know. there was a look in john’s eyes, a certain helplessness that was reserved only for him.

“rough night?” simon asked, leaning back in his office chair and nodding to John to close the door. john did as instructed, a dry chuckle bubbling out of his chest. “you don’t know the half of it,” he replied, voice raspy. he sounded as worn as he looked. it reminded simon of the dirt caked into the tread of his boots, stomped on a thousand times before finally getting to rest. simon just grunted in reply, picking up the pen from his desk. he made a small tick on the report he was reading to mark his place before turning his full attention to his captain. “would you like to talk, or not talk?” simon asked, his words laced with a meaning only the two of them could discern. john met his gaze, a weight seeming to lift off of his shoulders as he made his decision. “not talk.”

simon nodded in understanding, the movement curt and quick. it was almost tactical the way the two of them moved around each other. simon took up his position on the small sofa in his office, parting his legs shoulder-width apart. he took one of the pillows from beside him, holding it out to john as he circled around to his own position. john took the pillow, placing it on the floor between simon’s feet, and lowered himself down onto it. he grunted as his knees hit the tile floor, the blow gratefully softened by the fabric and stuffing. they’d quickly discovered that it was a necessary part of this routine.

“you solid?” john looked up to find simon’s eyes on him, the deep brown of his irises laced with concern. the captain swallowed down the lump forming in the back of his throat, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. “solid,” he replied, his tone short. he didn’t want to concern himself with how he felt. not now, not when it all felt too big to handle. simon simply nodded, raising a hand to rest on the back of john’s head. he guided it to his thigh, letting john rest against him for a moment. john didn’t want to talk, and that was fine with simon. he usually did all the talking on nights like these anyway. hours upon hours of silence left him with a lot to say.

“you deserve this, y’know,” he said, stroking his fingers along the length of john’s scalp. “deserve to put down the reins for a bit, have someone else take ‘em up.” john shivered under simon’s touch, goosebumps rising on his arms. it was never true in his own head, but when simon said it, john drank it in like it was gospel. he nodded, his cheek rubbing against the fabric of simon’s fatigues. “i deserve this,” he repeated softly, voice strained with the weight of the emotion he was keeping in.

simon nodded in approval, pleased with john’s acceptance. in the beginning, when they’d first started this little ritual, the captain had done everything he could to keep simon at arm’s length. he’d never stay for long once he’d been given what he needed and eye contact was scarce. now, john had reconciled with the fact that sometimes, he didn’t want to be in charge. sometimes, he needed someone else to tell him what to do. taking orders was as natural as breathing for him, especially when giving them felt like a burden he couldn’t bear. “that’s a good lad,” simon praised, his voice rumbling low in his chest. “you know just what ta do, don’t you? meltin’ in a puddle at my feet.” john’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, turning his head to press his face into simon’s thigh.

simon just chuckled. his boy could be awfully shy when he wanted to be. “look at me,” he commanded. john felt a shiver down his spine at simon’s tone. it wasn’t the same one he used with the sergeants, or when he was training the recruits. it was reserved specially for him, a low timbre that rattled around his brain and dislodged any unwanted thoughts still hanging around. the captain turned his head up, hazy blue eyes meeting simon’s dark chocolate ones. “so beautiful. ya know tha’? most beautiful thing on God’s green earth, on your knees for a nasty bugger like me.”

john wanted to protest, to assure simon that he was far from the nastiest bugger he’d ever knelt for, but the words wouldn’t come. thoughts swirled around in his head like smoke, thin and incorporeal. he tried to grasp at them, but his hands went right through. all he could do was hum and shake his head. simon shook his head, lips rounding in a soothing shushing noise. “don’t think. let me do tha’ for ya.” he placed a finger under john’s chin, stroking him like one would a cat. john’s eyes fluttered shut, letting the feeling of simon’s calloused trigger finger against his throat lift the weight of reality that hung heavy on his shoulders.

slowly, john’s head started to drift off into a much nicer place. it was softer, gentler. mission reports and recruit files fell to the wayside, briefings and emails and memorandums were long forgotten. all there was, in this moment, was him and simon. simon caught every moment of john’s slip, the way his jaw went slack and his eyes stared beyond him. he admired the way john’s eyes seemed to sparkle, admiration shining bright in them. when the stresses of the outside world fell away, all that was left was simon. the lieutenant shifted his hand, dragging his finger up john’s jaw until his hand came to rest on the crown of john’s head. the weight was comforting and grounding, keeping him tethered to the earth.

“tha’s a good boy,” simon praised, his thumb stroking john’s scalp. the captain practically purred, pressing his head up into simon’s touch. it felt nice and his one-track mind wanted more of it. simon shifted on the sofa, sweatpants growing tight. something in john’s far-away gaze made him chub up, the way he was so vulnerable and trusting beneath him. here, simon held all the power. “jus’ needed a li’l stress relief, hmm? needed your simon to get ya through.” john nodded, drool leaking against simon’s thigh.

simon chuckled at the sight, reaching forward and wiping some of the spit from the corner of john’s mouth. with a gentle motion, he pressed his thumb to the seam of john’s lips, pressing insistently. john’s mouth fell open and simon pushed his finger in, letting his thumb rest against john’s tongue. the way his lips closed around the digit made simon groan. he’d quickly discovered that his boy had an oral fixation, always needing something in his mouth to keep him occupied. all those damn cigars, he’d figured. john hollowed his cheeks, eyes fluttering shut as he bobbed his head on simon’s thumb. he whined low in his throat when he realized it wasn’t quite what he needed, shifting impatiently on the pillow.

“settle, lovie. i’ll give ya what ya need soon enough. jus’ wanna enjoy the sight of ya.” simon leaned back against the sofa, utterly transfixed by the man in front of him. john’s tongue curled around simon’s finger, teeth lightly scraping the skin. with his eyes heavy-lidded, he looked the very picture of debauchery, letting go and giving simon his soft underbelly. drool pooled in the corners of his mouth, wetting his lips and cheeks. if simon thought hard enough, he could pretend that it was his cock between john’s lips instead. he groaned aloud at the mere image, cock tenting his sweats. he used his free hand to push the waistband down, dragging his boxers down with it.

john opened his eyes, teeth digging into the flesh of simon’s thumb as he caught sight of what he truly wanted. he could smell the musk coming off of the lieutenant, thick and heavy in his nose. he pulled his head back and released simon’s thumb, leaning forward to mouth at his cock. his tongue trailed along the protruding vein at the base, humming softly when simon shivered with delight. simon’s head fell back against the wall, his eyes screwed shut as his cock twitched. precum dripped down his shaft, the tip red and angry at having been ignored thus far.

simon cupped the back of john’s head, coaxing him to look up. john met simon’s gaze, baby blue eyes pleading for permission. “this what you wan’, baby? want this fat cock down your throat?” simon asked, voice rough and gravelly. john nodded, the stimulation of his cheek against simon’s cock making his thighs clench. he couldn’t find the words, mouth moving to beg, but simon shushed him. “none o’ that. not gonna let my best boy go without,” he cooed, adjusting his hips so that the tip of his cock laid against john’s lips.

john’s tongue darted out, lapping up the precum that was beading up. it was salty and bitter, but he drank it in like the sweetest ambrosia. simon moaned loud, the sound coming from low in his chest. he’d long since given up on trying to be quiet on these nights. there was hardly anyone around, and if there were any nosy recruits, he’d shut them up with latrine duty. “tha’s it, right fuckin’ there,” he groaned, hips bucking to press his cock deeper into john’s mouth. “take it all, lovie. know you can, so good for me-”

simon’s words were cut off when john took him to the hilt, the captain’s throat rumbling with a satisfied moan. electricity shot up his spine, simon’s hands scrambling for purchase on the sofa. the pleasure was heady, thoughts dissipating like clouds and the room spinning like a carousel. as pent up as he was, it only took a few minutes and a well-timed swallow for simon to lose himself. he spilled down john’s throat, pearly-white spend shooting into the back of his mouth. john drank it down, needy moans vibrating around simon’s cock as he sucked him through his orgasm. 

the moment simon’s soul came back into his body, he eased john’s head back, tapping his cheek to coax him to breathe. john was panting, eyes glistening with tears from all the times he’d gagged. his cheeks were flushed, a cum-drunk expression on his face. simon was satisfied, and it seemed john was too. needs fulfilled for each other, symbiotic relationship solidified. john took his moment of rest, catching his breath before parting his lips again. simon acquiesced, placing his softening prick on john’s waiting tongue. there was no need for pleasure, no work to be done. the two of them could rest here like this for as long as they needed, basking in the glow of the moment they’d shared. “good boy,” simon praised breathlessly, petting john’s hair. “keep it warm for me, tha’s it.”

a few hours later, once they’d parted ways and john had settled in for bed, he found a different kind of weight had settled on his chest. perhaps these nightly routines were more than just quid pro quo, but no matter. simon could help him figure it all out later.

[anonomano]

Connection ~ Carlos Sainz

Part one

Mafia!Carlos Sainz x Fem,Arranged!Reader

prologue part two

Synopsis: How will we get Carlos to agree to a marriage he doesn’t want?

Warnings: smut 18+ eventually, violence, toxic!carlos

Carlos was sitting at the breakfast table; notably not at the head spot, where his father use to sit. He was reading paperwork and eating an omelette prepared by his chefs, when his mother walked in.

“I found her!” she stated as she sat across from him. She was no longer wearing her mourning clothing. She was dressed in a mauve dress, amethysts decorated her ears and neck. Purple had always been her color. Her hair was up in a french twist, her signature style. She was back to herself again.

“Found who?” Carlos asked, not looking up from his work again. He had been very busy ever since he took over the business.

“Your wife”

The words stopped Carlos in his tracks. He slowly looked up at his mother. He hadn’t expected it so quickly, or for her to make the decision of who it would be. “What? No, if I must get married, I should be able to at least choose who I will get married to”

“Carlos” she sighed “sweetheart, your taste in women has never been exactly, shall I say, stellar” She grabbed his hand, the absence of her wedding ring becoming apparent “Besides, this girl is a family friend. Shes very sweet and very pretty. Her father is f/n l/n”

“y/n?” Carlos was shocked; he remembered the girl from gatherings early in life. It had been a long time, her father stopped bringing her to such events when she was four years old. Him and y/n used to be close friends. They had played together and even got fake married once. Ironic.

“Yes, I saw her a few years ago at her 16th birthday party. Shes a very nice girl. Perfect for the family. Plus consider it a gesture to her father. Him and Carlos always got along. You haven’t spoken to him since the funeral”

“Mother I respect you I do” she sat back “But, I will not marry this girl” I stood up “ I hardly even know her! If I must marry someone… I and I alone will choose who it will be”

“Its too late Carlos” She stands straightening her dress “I have already discussed this with her father. This marriage will be happening.”

“This is ridiculous! You aren’t in charge of me anymore!” Carlos leaps away from his chair wildly gesticulating at his mother “My father is dead… I am in charge you can’t undermine my authority like that!” he puts his hand to the bridge of his nose “Mother what exactly did you tell her father?”

——————————————————————————

“When I was discussing it with Reyes we had couple key things we talked about…” your father stated. You were now in a crowded room with your father at the head of the table; you were seated to his left. “First, you will get married before the end of the year, most likely in December”

“So soon?!” you say, shocked. Everything was happening so fast, it was already August.

“Yes, Darling, soon. Aswell as on the subject of children—“ his voice faded out you started to think about all of the choices being taken from you. This stranger you never met would choose where you live, how many children you have, and how you live your life. Everything would be so different.

“— this whole thing is good for the family; it keeps us involved, which is good. Carlos Jr. and myself never got along as well as his father and I” your father finished out as you regained your awareness of the situation.

“So I have to go live with him? and have his babies?” You question “How are babies even made?” an awkward silence sweeps over the room at the question. You look to your father while he looks away. Then to your brothers who are sharing glances with each other. You look at your mother last, shes looking right at you, pity on her face.

“Y/n, darling, that is something for the two of us to discuss at a later date” you slump into your seat, frustrated at the lack of information.

“Anyway, I will set up a dinner soon for the two of you to meet. Your mother and I, along with Reyes will also be attending” this cause some outrage from yoir brothers; they had always been protective of you and didn’t understand why they couldn’t go.

——————————————————————————

The dinner was not what you expected, neither was Carlos. He was seated at the head of the table, you had to admit he was very handsome; he was dressed in nice clothing, obviously very expensive and tailored to his body. You were seated on the opposite end. Your parents between you.

Despite the silence that plagued the dinner while you were eating, your parents decided to bring a conversation between the three of them to the study. Leaving you and Carlos alone.

“So, what are your hobbies?” You ask, trying to get to know the man that you will soon share your life with.

“I don’t have any, to busy”

“Alright, well, do you like kids?” you try

he sighs “look you don’t have to… we arent gonna…” he pauses briefly standing up “we aren’t getting married”

“What?”

“My mother set this whole thing up… I’m sorry you seem like a nice girl. But, I don’t even know you. I’m sure you don’t want to marry me.”

“Its just business”

He laughs a little “I don’t understand—“

“Thats what my dad said, its just business. We’ll get married, have kids, share responsibilities.”

“Darling, do you even understand what those responsibilities are?”

“Don’t!” You stand up quickly realizing what you did and then sit down “Please, don’t call me that.” you take a deep breath “I may not know everything but I am willing to learn my responsibilities I take that seriously”

“Do you want to marry me?”

“I…need too.”

He looks you, he seems to be contemplating something. “Alright then.”

——————————————————————————

You were sitting in your dinning room waiting for dinner when your parents arrived.

“Darling, I don’t know what you did but I am proud of you!” your father exclaimed as he was seated “He’s going to marry you”

“Really?” You were surprised “He said he didn’t—“

“Well, he changed his mind” your mother interrupted

“He really changed his mind, the wedding has been moves up!”

“Moved up? to when?”

“October, you are getting married in October!”

@formulas-bitch

[hsnlv]

promised & found | s.jy

req!: also if you're taking requests...idk i've been thinking abt idol jake and famous reader (modeling or singing or whatever?) and they're like...childhood besties, lost contact, but then they meet again after becoming famous 😗😗😗😗

pairing: idol!jake x idol!reader

synopsis: years after losing touch with her childhood best friend, now fellow idol sim jake, a chance backstage encounter brings buried memories and unspoken feelings rushing back.

others: use of pet name (muffin). and honestly, it is supposed to be platonic (i think) but i cant help it, im a hopeless romantic :(

wc: 1.2k

a/n: a little side note, i cant vividly imagine what you guys might have in mind everytime you request something (im sorry </3) but i will my best to deliver it as smoothly and as ‘make sense’ (?) as possible! i dont know if this requires fluff, angst, suggestive (which i dont really like to write), but yet again, i’ll try to deliver every request as smoothly and as ‘make sense’ as possible! any feedback is highly appreciated too! happy reading💗 here’s my masterlist!

you’re stunned, absolutely frozen. every word that could describe your current state—speechless, shocked, dazed—falls short.

you had heard about the newly debuted boy group, the one everyone was buzzing about. but with your packed schedule, endless practices, and back-to-back performances, you barely had time to breathe, let alone catch up on industry gossip.

but now, standing just a few feet away from you, was someone who looked like a memory brought to life.

the soft, slightly whiny voice. the chestnut-brown hair that curled slightly at the ends. the gaze—sharp yet gentle, just as you remembered. it had to be him.

and before you could stop yourself, his name slipped from your lips like it was second nature.

“sim jaeyun.”

he turned, his eyes landing on you, widening in recognition. and then, as if time hadn’t passed at all, his face broke into a grin.

“muffin?”

hearing that nickname again was like reopening an old wound. years of carefully buried emotions began to resurface, sharp and bittersweet.

“yun?” you managed, your voice wavering as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

he looked at you like you were something out of a dream, his eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory. “it’s really you,” he said softly, his voice laced with wonder.

you smiled, the corners of your lips trembling. “it’s really me.”

“what are you doing here? don’t tell me you’re one of the performers.”

you nodded, suddenly shy under his gaze. “didn’t know you actually went through with becoming famous,” you said, trying to keep your tone light even as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you.

he chuckled, the sound so familiar it made your chest ache. “didn’t know you did, either. weren’t you the kid who once froze during the school talent show because you forgot the words to your own song?”

you rolled your eyes, the teasing instantly easing some of the tension. “yeah, well, people change.”

“you can say that again,” he murmured, his eyes softening as they lingered on you.

years ago

“yun, is it final? you’re really moving?”

your voice was quiet, shaky—almost pleading. you didn’t want to believe it. couldn’t.

he sighed, his shoulders slumping as he looked anywhere but at you. “as much as i hate it…”

you waited, holding your breath, even though you already knew the answer.

“yeah. it’s final.”

“but, yun…”

“muffin,” he said softly, using that nickname that once made you smile but now only made your chest tighten.

you hated it at that moment. it was too light, too playful, too much him.

“can’t you just… stay? with me?” your voice cracked, and you bit the inside of your cheek, determined not to cry. “i don’t have anyone else but you.”

he finally looked at you then, his expression torn, his eyes shining with something that looked too much like guilt. “you think this is easy for me? you’re my best friend. leaving you is the last thing i want to do. but i don’t have a choice. my family needs this.”

you wanted to scream, to tell him that you needed him too. but deep down, you knew he was right. and that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“promise me,” you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper. “promise me we won’t lose touch.”

his hand found your shoulder, warm and grounding. “i promise. calls, texts, video chats—you name it. you’re stuck with me, muffin.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding. “you better mean it. because if you forget about me, i’ll—”

“you’ll what?” he teased, the corners of his lips twitching into a small smile.

“i’ll fly to australia and make you regret it,” you shot back, trying to match his playful tone.

he laughed, the sound a little shaky. “deal. but that won’t happen, okay? i couldn’t forget you if i tried.”

but promises, no matter how heartfelt, are fragile things. the calls became less frequent. the texts dwindled. until, eventually, there was nothing. and all you had left of him was the memory of his laugh and the nickname you couldn’t bear to hear again.

back to the present

“you’re really here,” he said, breaking the silence. “famous idol and all. i should’ve known you’d make it big.”

“funny,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “i could say the same about you. i didn’t even know you wanted this.”

he shrugged, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “i didn’t, at first. but one day, i was watching kpop idols performing, and suddenly i thought, hey, maybe i could do that.”

“and here i thought you were going to take over the family business,” you teased, crossing your arms.

“well, surprise.” he gestured at himself dramatically. “instead of suits and ties, you get… this.”

you laughed, the sound easing the knot in your chest. “you make it sound so easy. meanwhile, i nearly quit a hundred times.”

“you?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “the same girl who made me sing ‘do you wanna build a snowman’ at your birthday party? that girl almost quit?”

“okay, but that was different,” you argued, your cheeks flushing at the memory. “i had you to blame if it went horribly.”

“and yet, look at you now,” he said, his voice softening as his gaze settled on you. “center stage. killing it.”

“you’re not so bad yourself, yun,” you said quietly. “i’m proud of you.”

his expression shifted, something unspoken passing between you. “i missed you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

your chest tightened. “me too.”

“i tried to find you,” he said, his tone a mix of frustration and regret. “but you don’t use social media, and… i don’t know. i thought maybe you didn’t want to be found.”

“it wasn’t that,” you said quickly. “life just… got in the way. and i didn’t think you’d still—”

“still what?”

“still care,” you finished softly, looking down.

he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. “are you kidding? muffin, i never stopped caring. not for a second.”

his words hit you like a wave, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“i regret it,” you whispered. “losing touch with you. i should’ve tried harder.”

“hey,” he said gently, his thumb lightly brushing the back of your hand. “we both could’ve tried harder. but we’re here now, right?”

you nodded, your lips curling into a small, hesitant smile. “yeah. we are.”

“so, how about a fresh start?” he asked, his grin returning. “friends again? or do i need to buy your forgiveness first?”

“a fresh start, huh?” you said, pretending to think. “well, if we’re doing that, you at least owe me coffee for all the years you were MIA.”

he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “coffee? muffin, i’ll buy you coffee every day if it means i get to make it up to you.”

“bold words, sim jaeyun.”

“what can i say?” he said, smirking. “i’m committed to the cause.”

“we’ll see about that,” you teased, but your voice softened as you added, “just don’t disappear again, okay? i don’t think i can handle losing you twice.”

he laced his fingers with yours, his grip warm and steady. “never again,” he promised.

and this time, you believed him.

[dpspcehntr]

Night and Day

Part One

Pairing: Rafayel x Reader, Xavier x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

You attend a gallery opening with Rafayel and spend the day with Xavier before a mission.

Warnings: polyamorous relationship (reader is solo poly), each party knows and is enthusiastic about it, sensitive reader, humiliation, exhibition kink (if you squint), nipple clamps, fingering (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), ruining clothes, humiliation kink (if you squint), edging, p in v, cream pie, squirting, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), not beta read

A/N: Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! Once again I got carried away like big time 😭. I wrote this all this today so I could get this out, but also inspiration finally hit me. Yes they know about each other, just like part one there has to be something that connects them. I did have quite a bit of fun writing them meeting in the morning. This is so long and long overdue but I hope you enjoy! As always reblogs are deeply appreciated!

Rafayel asked you to attend a gallery opening with him this evening, not as his body guard but as his plus one. You take this as the perfect opportunity to wear a new accessory you’ve been working on for a while.

“There’s a piece in the gallery I think you’ll really like.”

He explains on the ride to the gallery from your apartment. He insisted on picking you up since it was closer to you. Once inside your eyes zero in on the piece in question. He walks you over to it. Rafayel leans down to capture your lips in his for a soft kiss. His kiss light but hungry and leaving you breathless when he pulls away. You whine softly before quickly pulling yourself together and putting your attention back to the room. He smirks as he moves away toward another group of people. Your cheeks are flushed with warmth when you realize how close you came to embarrassing yourself in front of a room of his peers. The humiliation should scare you but you feel your clit throbbing for attention. You secretly praise the powers at be for not getting carried away, the clamps on your nipples are doing just enough to keep you on the edge. You couldn’t wait for the moment he unwraps you and gives you the much needed relief you desired. You sit on the bench by one of your favorite pieces in this collection and nurse your drink. It feels like ages before he spots you again. You wondered how you looked to him but then quickly dismiss it , feeling overwhelmed. He strides over to you with his familiar smirk planted on his lips.

“Careful Ms. Bodyguard, you’re almost too obvious.”

Another throb pulses through you as he looks you up and down. You carefully stand up and look him in the eyes.

“Tell me the inspiration for this piece. I like this one quite the most.”

He immediately blushes a deep shade of red before clearing his throat. You knew exactly what this painting was inspired by but you loved teasing him.

“Well, this piece is inspired b-by someone very special. I uh like the forms and colors they remind me of. I took those and put them in this piece.”

His eyes nervously avoid yours as he continues to talk about this piece. He keeps going to save face for the other people in the room. You reminisce on the night he fucked you on the art studio floor while working on this piece. He cream pied you and finished the painting watching his cum leak out your aching hole. You were surprised he kept the piece in the show, then you remembered he loves being a tease. It was your favorite piece because of how excited he was to show you the finished piece the next time you visited him. When he finishes his explanation of the piece and makes eye contact with you and instantly you both know you’re not gonna stay much longer. After an introduction to the gallery and a short speech from the owner you feel his hand slip into yours and give it a squeeze. With no hesitation you lock fingers with him and quietly slip you both out to lobby of the gallery. The car was already pulled up by the valet and you waste no time getting in and heading to your apartment. Once inside your apartment his hands are all over you, pinning you to the door. His hand slides down your body, flipping your skirt up and feeling your underwear. He sighs in satisfaction as he pressed into your soaked core. You grip him for dear life as he rubs your clit lightly through your underwear.

“You’re so wet, we should’ve left sooner. Fuck.”

You hump into his hand desperate for any friction. He slides a finger underneath your underwear and presses into your dripping core. You arch into his touch as he slips two fingers in with ease. He holds them there for just a second, feeling your core fluttering against his digits. You and him both know you won’t last much longer like this but he presses on anyway fingering you at a brutally slow pace. Teetering right on the edge you whine and squirm trying to get him to move faster. Your body in torturous bliss as your release is just out of reach. He pulls both fingers out of you much to your displeasure.

“Please Raf. Please.”

He shushes you with a heated kiss and wraps both of his arms around you. You hook your arms behind his neck and pull him closer. Nothing will ever be close enough for the both of you, for now you settle with skin to skin contact. You press your chest into his and hiss into the kiss when you remember the clamps still on your nipples. He pulls away from the kiss and leads you to your living room. Your bedroom is simply too far away now, he needs you right now. He sits down on the couch and makes quick work of his belt and zipper. Before you straddle his thighs you take off your top to show off the clamps on your aching nipples. The clamps themselves were a work of art, with chains and jewels drape from them. The jewels were a deep red that reminded you of his fire evol, it took you months to complete them and you were so excited to see his reaction to them. You quickly discard your skirt and ruined underwear as he watches your naked form. He was still fully clothed, pumping himself in his hands waiting for you. The fun part was ruining his expensive clothes, he relished in the embarrassment of having to get them professionally cleaned.

“I’ll have to keep this image in my mind, I have a painting already in mind.”

You stride over to him and finally straddle his thighs. He lines himself up with your entrance and you slowly slide down till you bottom out. You throw your head back as a loud wail escapes your lips. He grips your hips and you begin to ride him. Slowly at first but you just couldn’t wait anymore. Your release was so close, your whole brain was fuzzy with need. His grip tightened as he thrusted back into you, leaving you a quivering mess teetering on the edge. The main connecting chain on the clamps very briefly got caught on a button on his shirt. The light tug it gave to your nipples was enough to have you seeing stars. You clench down on him in a vice grip as your orgasm crashes over you. Whines and groans leave your lips as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. His pace is brutal as one orgasm rolls into the next. A familiar pressure builds up in your body as another orgasm washes over you. You try to give him a warning but it’s too late, you gush and squirt on him leaving a huge wet spot on his pants and shirt. That doesn’t stop him though as he continues to thrust into you. His thrusts feel more erratic and you know he’s close.

“Cum inside me.”

Your voice is hoarse as you beg to feel him deeper inside you. He thrust as deep as he could and let out a groan. He painted your insides with his cum as you clenched down on him for another orgasm, milking him dry. You stay like this for a while, catching your breath as he goes soft inside you. After a while he pulls out of you with a pop, his cum leaking out of you onto his ruined pants. Another moment passes before you finally slide off of him onto the spot next to him. The mix of the both of you sits sticky on your inner thighs as he gets up to clean you both up. The chain of your clamps sits delicately between your breasts as you toy with it. Thankfully the piece is not damaged so you can put it away for another time. When he returns you’re lost in the inspection of the clamps to notice. He hooks a finger onto the main chain and gives it a tug. You cry out and look up at him. He reaches for the clamps and removes them carefully before setting the chain on the table next to the couch.

“It’s such a pretty piece of jewelry, I’d hate to damage it.”

He kneels down to clean you up as you slowly drift off to sleep, completely spent.

*the next morning*

Your alarm blares in your ears as you slowly come to. 7:00 in the morning, that means it’s time to get ready for work. You let a silent curse out your mouth for forgetting to take the day off. You groggily rub your eyes and pull the covers off of you. Rafayel is laying next to you deep in sleep, he must’ve carried you to bed last night. Before getting up you place a soft kiss on his cheek and ruffle his hair. Once out of bed you head to the bathroom to start getting ready. In the mirror you take inventory of last night’s damage. Your hips have bruises right where he gripped you, your nipples still sensitive to touch. Your makeup is smeared and your hair is a mess. Overall it could be worse. Once you removed your day old makeup and wash your face it’s time for a shower. After a quick wash up, you towel dry and come back into your bedroom. Rafayel is still in bed but looking over your naked frame. You brush him off and head to your dressing area.

“Can’t you just blow off work and stay with me?”

He muses from your bed. Oh how lovely it would be to stay in bed and fuck all day but alas you have rent and bills to pay. Once dressed for the day like clockwork you hear a key turning the lock on your front door. You enter the living room to see Xavier ready to walk to the Hunter’s Association with you.

“Good morning. You look like you need more sleep.”

Xavier nods to your tired demeanor and looks into your bedroom.

“Well I think I get it now. Did you enjoy yourself?”

Xavier makes a point to sit on the chair next to the couch, it clicks in your mind. He heard you last night. Heat radiates from your cheeks, the familiar slick forming in your underwear. It’s much too early to think about how much that turns you on. You quickly gather your composer and turn back to your bedroom.

“I’m almost ready. I won’t be long.”

Once inside Rafayel waves to Xavier and they exchange a look. You dismiss it before grabbing your bag, giving Rafayel a kiss goodbye, and turning back to the living room.

“Let’s go or we’ll be late.”

Xavier and Rafayel exchange goodbyes before you both leave for work. He seemed uncharacteristically alert today. Every shift and turn of your body was of interest to him. His hands lingered just a bit longer on your body, his eyes continuously watching your lips, all of which he denies when you ask him about it. Once you arrive, you and Xavier are assigned to stake out mission in the next city over to investigate a lead on illegal protocols trading. You’ll be there for the rest of the weekend, so in Jenna’s words, rest up today before your big day tomorrow. You both however will be doing no such thing. You exchange charged glances as Jenna explains the details of your mission and your undercover identities. Once in the parking garage you’re given clothes, IDs, and other things you might need for this trip.

“Looks like we’re married for this one. Look at the last names.”

You both take a glance at your IDs, clearly seeing you both didn’t pay attention nearly enough to Jenna’s instructions. You both pile into the car and make your way to the destination. His hand never left your thigh for the entire time there. Sometimes slipping it dangerously close to exactly where you wanted him. Once checked into your accommodation it was clear he had something on his mind. He seemed determined to get to your room. You didn’t complain, the way his hands felt on you had you wanting more. Once inside the room you bags were discarded and once again you were pushed into a door with someone’s hands all over you. You throw your head against the door and he kissed your jaw and neck. You feel overwhelmed as you cling to him for support. Raf must’ve given him the okay to ravish you and Xavier wasn’t gonna miss this opportunity. He lifts your leg up and presses more of himself into you. You feel his hard on as you try your best not to grind onto it.

“My turn.”

He whispers in his ear as he kisses down to your exposed chest. He ruts into your aching core, feeling how needy he is for you. Your underwear was already ruined as he presses harder into you. You try your best to meet his thrusts but you’re so overcome with want you can hardly stand up.

“Xavier, the bed. Let’s use the bed.”

With great effort he pulls away from you and you have to catch yourself. You both begin to quickly strip out of your clothes. The tension in the room has become palpable. You can’t help but feel a gush when you think about how wound up he is since last night. Hearing you whimper and moan as you were taken by someone else. You should be embarrassed but all you can do is melt into his arms in hopes he’ll fuck you just a little harder. You quickly make your way to the bed with him not far behind. You sit on the edge of the bed as he kneels down in front of you and spreads your legs. He wastes no time licking a stripe from your dripping core to your sore clit. The night before leaving you sensitive and full of want you shiver into his touch. His arms are hooked around your legs holding you in place as he licks and sucks you. You can barely move as he continues to devour you like a starved man You make a mental note to rile hm up more often. Your clit begins to throb as your orgasm approaches. You try to move away from his face but his grip on you tightened. He hums into you savoring your taste as you clench down onto his tongue. You collapse onto the bed as your release washes over you. The death grip he has on your thighs prevents you from squirming away as he continues to lick into you. Moans fall from your lips as your orgasm is extended. The pain of overstimulation only furthers your desire to cum again You stay like this for what feels like hours, orgasm after orgasm rolls over you. Your hips ache and your voice has gone hoarse. You feel the familiar pressure building up in your lower half. Your brain doesn’t have time to process a warning before it releases onto his face as another orgasm washes over you. He drinks every drop up before he finally lets up. He leans back and observes the mess he’s made of you and hums proudly. You take a moment to catch your breath and stretch out your legs. You sit up to take in the sight of him. HIs lips were swollen, a beautiful shade of bright pink. His face is glistening with your juices and his eyes are glazed over with desire. Your brain goes fuzzy with desire as you watch him take himself in his hands. Instinctively you scoot up onto the bed as he climbs in, settling himself on top of you.

“Are you okay? Do you want to continue?”

For a moment you’re lost in his eyes, mesmerized by the softness you see in them. It takes a moment for you to register he’s asked you a question, your mind once again fuzzy with desire. All you wanted right now was to feel in inside you as deep as he can go.

“Yes. Please fuck me, I need you.”

Without any delay he thrusts into you and bottoms out with ease. He buries his head into the nook of your shoulder, each grunt and moan he lets out right into your ear. You run your hands into his hair and tug lightly. He moans louder into your ear and you flutter around him. Your nipples still sensitive from last night rub lightly against his chest leaving you gasping and begging. He isn’t going to last much longer and neither are you. His thrusts become more desperate as you clench harder around him. Soon his hips still as he paints the inside of your walls white. You milk him for every drop as your release crashes down on you. You both stay like this for a while, letting him go soft inside you. When he finally pulls out you’re dangerously close to falling asleep. He rolls over into the empty spot next to you and pulls you close to his chest where you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

[allpiesforourown]

Okay so yes, Shen yuan is a cow, but he still Shen yuan. It’s the middle of the night again and I’m trying to fall asleep but cowzun plagues my thoughts. I’m thinking maybe he was human and lived his Shen yuan life as we know it reading shit web novels as the rich third son and died at like 20 then he gets reincarnated as a cow but still remembers being a human man and so is still the Shen yuan we know. Shang Qinghua is still airplane and died but he got reincarnated as human in this life. I don’t think this is his novel but peerless cucumber still left comments on his work as he does. Shang winghua figures out that shen yuan has human brain but also kinda thinks he’s just sleep deprived delirious from overworking at first. But then he keeps noticing how Not Normal this cow is and realizes this cow used to be a dude. Idk how it happens after that but shangqinghua goes out to the barn to hide from work sometimes and brings Shen yuan comics and novels. Shen yuan has a hard time reading with his cow eyes so Shang Qinghua reads to him sometimes and complains about work. Their relationship is then like canon. I don’t know how they work out communication but they do. Somehow.

What would the endless abyss be? Not just asking you (pie) but ur followers too. Any thoughts?

Also. The first cowzun ask I was typing I wrote fuck and accidentally hit d instead of f so it said duck. I corrected it and might have just deleted that part don’t remember, but it left me thinking: who would be a duck in this au? Gongyi xiao maybe? Or is he more oriole? Or swan?

Also pie is cowzun seriously where you draw the line? I thought you loved all versions of shizun. Wouldn’t you want to gain his trust enough until he lets you pet his nose? Cow noses are super soft. Like crazy soft. You don’t want him to trust you so much that he’d let you pet that soft, delicate part while you look into his cow eyes and he snuffles on your hand? Really? What happened to loving all facets of shizun so you could truly love him? You love shizun as a cat but not a cow? Is this the line you draw?

I am so tired I just wan to sleeeeeep. Brain shut the duck off. …and now I’m thinking about the duck question again. Who is the duck? I must know.

HOW WILL A COW GIVE ME HEADPATS. I need someone I can TALK TO and hold and kiss and fuck and marry and grow old with. How can I do that with an animal with a max lifespan of 20 years. Also the duck is obviously Ming Fan who imprinted on shizun after hatching and thinks he's his mother and aggressively attacks binghe with his beak on sight