#q word mention

[lgbtqtext]

[cryptidmickle]

hi your amnesiac au has me in SHAMBLES plsplspls im crying sobbing stabbing the floor

im so glad i discovered your blog 😭 your art is so lovely and nice and just. Yes. eats everythibg snd leaves no crumbs /silly

PLEASE i require more info about amnesiac au.

could this happen to the other Beasts? if it can happen to Shadow Milk, it might be possible with the others, should their Ancient counterparts get lucky with their attacks

does Shadow Milk gradually become less of an ass? does he seek answers as to Why he was so awful? does he care at all?

how horrified is he at the revelation that he was such a huge issue for the faeries + PV, if at all? he already doesn't know much about himself, so would not knowing he was such a problem, such an awful person, terrify him, considering he doesn't remember any of this?

idk. i personally would be so so incredibly horrified and terrified that i was so terrible and..well, monstrous, if i may. i kinda project onto Shadow Milk im ngl so that's probably why im saying any of this

IM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG im just so,,, AAAUAGTHYBHLRHTLBFLTTKG /POS abt this entire au. hoenstly it inspires me; both your art and your ideas and concepts

hope you have a good day!! stay safe /gen

SOBS IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THIS AU!!! i read all the tags on my posts btw so if any of u went crazy in there i saw it and went crazy w u. im deranged and mentally ill if u cant tell.

i would say the cracking of the souljam and loss of power is very possible for the other beasts! the amnesia however is a Very special case of pure vanilla fucking up the spell he cast

the other beasts would be depowered and much weaker, but retain their memories...... actually, would their corruption break as well since the souljam disconnected entirely from them? hm, i think redemption would be more possible if an ancient got a lucky shot, in that case

shadow milk does in fact become less of a jerk! what with no longer being secluded in a spire losing his mind and sense of identity all by himself, his personality is forced to become. eh. LESS THORNY.

pure vanilla is socializing him like a dog and he is NOT enjoying it. but i am. put that guy in situations.

shadow milk does in fact seek answers to why he did so many terrible things! he knows his... current personality isn't the greatest, but he can't imagine doing some of the things described

he feels a certain disconnect to the him others describe terrorizing them to the him of present, while he feels bad for what happened to them he doesn't really feel apologetic because was it really him? how's he supposed to know?

should he feel sorry because it technically was him, just.. evil? would that excuse it if he doesn't feel sorry at all?

this is where shadow milk and white lily have similar dilemmas because they both have previously done terrible things to others, especially pure vanilla. they feel bad about it, they dont wanna hurt him or others like that ever again

but then this is where they separate because shadow milk doesn't feel at fault, he doesn't remember doing all those things, he doesn't even know who that was! you want me to grovel forever about it? pathetic, what's done is done anyways, why not try to do something now?

white lily absolutely despises that mindset as she's competing with pv over who can hate themselves more, and she is winning. she thinks they both deserve to repent forever for their crimes but is constantly reminded of the fact that she remembers but shadow milk doesn't! she knows what she did, why she did it, it was bad and terrible, but she understands and that's what's important and she must repent for it

shadow milk doesn't know, he doesn't know anything at all and theres even more that they can't tell him as he's apparently been evil for centuries. it's hard to argue that he needs to feel bad when the personalities are truly separated.

......i went on a ramble again.

he doesn't feel bad about what he did but he is in fact, very unnerved that he may be capable of those actions again, and with pure vanilla trying to teach him to be good and kind its...... panic inducing sometimes, that maybe he can do something terrible again, that the evil is possibly just lurking under the surface and hes fooling himself and everyone around him

[pusangkambing]

Saw a tweet annoyed the hell out of me but for the love of god qjaiden isnt leaving or "closing the book" on bobby fields. Girl says she's going to start lying but apparently now is the time to take her words at face value

SHE.IS.LYING.

She's been lying to herself for a much longer time than she has been lying to other people. No she's not over bobby fields, no shes not over bobby's death, she lied to qBaghs about it because Baghera is one of the only people that knows about it. She is lying to qbaghera because she's afraid she might become suspicious too. She has no plans on leaving. Literally a day before she said Bobby fields would be her main base but she would need a different house because she cant keep saying she doesnt have one when people ask.

She has not moved on, she has never ever allowed herself to fully processed her grief. Think back to when she first showed bobby fields to qroier, constantly telling him that they can be like how they used to, that, there, they can never be sad. That they can keep living that memory of bobby forever. Go back when she first showed it to qfoolish. Leo was so concerned about it because she too clocked in how qjaiden never ever lets herselft get sad ever. She asks her tia if she's okay with a sign, qjaiden reads and quietly tells her "yes. im fine" then breaks the sign herself. She, as far as i know, has never broken a sign from the eggs ever until then, but the fact that she broke the sign herself speaks volumes of how much she's repressing her emotions. She is bottling up all her grief over bobby, never truly letting them out so she can forever cling to only happy memories of her dead son. Think back to when she first showed qcellbit, when cellbit asked her where she got the flowers (the cyan ones, bobby's flowers), she immediately changed the subject, never fully answering his question. She does not let herself think of the day when Bobby died, she refuses to touch it, she understands that he's dead but she can never confront the memory of when he actually died, and with the way shes going, it doesnt look like she ever will.

So no she has not moved on, she is not closing the book, the thorns of the roses of bobby fields cling to her very being, the vines wrapping themselves around her heart. When she speaks to others about moving on,

She.Is.Lying.

[palatteflags]

Robert Zussman from COD:WWII based Queer moodboard~ ^^ For an anon~ Hope you like the look!

Want one? Send an ask! -mod Jay

[devilshills]

I am sometimes just contemplating life and reminiscing about the way I diverge from some of my kintypes

like

1. Vel going “burn it like the witches who wore it” . ma’am , I’m the witch

2. Lute being homophobic . I am one of the queerest people you will ever meet . not even my hair is straight in this life . ( plus I identify as Vaggie , which clashes with kinfirming Lute )

3. Blitz using the r-slur . I wouldn’t actually say that . /srs

[outofangband]

@searchingforserendipity25 asked me and I’ve had a few others ask if I thought Morwen had particular knowledge of elven lore or healing and if this contributed to her being called a witch and here are my thoughts about this!

Edit from July 2024 when this was posted; I originally wrote this in summer 2023, it got lost when my q got messed up and I forgot about it until now when it was posted. Anyways I haven’t yet had the chance to review this yet so it’s possible I will return to edit or revise. I did go through to fix or add links though

My short answer: yes and no

Morwen does have knowledge of elf lore from her people! It says so in chapter one of the Narn! She wasn’t particularly interested in sharing it immediately before the Nírnaeth because it contradicted Húrin’s and she didn’t want to make him less optimistic (which shows how much she loves and knows him I think! Morwen doesn’t tend to spare people’s feelings like that…). I don’t think she was particularly interested in elven lore or wisdom but she probably had some! She was not a wisewoman in the way that Andreth was however I do imagine she held a vast knowledge of her peoples lore and history,

Not least because she is acutely aware that the knowledge that information that dies with her might die forever

I think she probably had some informal knowledge of healing! No exact evidence but Morwen survives the Bragollach and the long journey to Hithlum as well as Niënor’s birth with very little resources! And the years in the wild after her second encounter with Glaurung. I think she’s very resourceful and learns quickly.

it would make sense if she had some skills in this because Niënor almost certainly suffered routine childhood illnesses and injuries and it was probably impossible to seek anyone else’s help both practically, because Morwen hates seeking help and because it would have been too dangerous and could get whoever helped them hurt. On that note Morwen detests being reliant on other people so I think that she might learn those skills for that reason too.

I especially think about this with regards to Niënor’s birth. I talked about it here and I plan to discuss it more!!

I have my many thoughts about her and herblore, though this is partly because botany and ethnobotany are incredibly important subjects to me…one of my very first Morwen posts I believe was about her giving herbs to Aerin which I’ve returned to too many times; It’s also a topic that’s very important to me…)

Even among the people of Hithlum, Morwen’s practices and customs are possibly seen as strange to some because they’re Bëorian! Most people don’t view them as strange in a bad way, (though some do), just different

I also think that Morwen tends to be superstitious in some ways but pretty dismissive of non Bëorian superstitions which I’m sure is frustrating to some people (though obviously does not mean she deserves to be accused of witchcraft!!)

Basically while I think Morwen’s skills, customs, and knowledge, do contribute to the accusations it is definitely in combination and indeed secondary to her personality and demeanor and the fact that she’s presumed widowed. people sometimes view non married women and/or widows as more unruly as I talked about here!

As always I am sourcing Fearless Wives and Frightened Shrews: The Construction of the Witch in Early Modern Germany by Sigrid Brauner

[fictionkinfessions]

I can't handle being in the fandom I'm from. I have memories that don't portray "source" and common fan interpretations. For context, one of my "sources" has "me" flirt openly with another who gets slapped the label of being "my parental figure" when he was 3 years older than me in some source information about him and "I". It's so frustrating because I drew porn and got attacked for making "incest". Of what? Two queer men in a cult and get forced to call each other brother? I wasn't raised by him. I raised myself, even in "source". Let me draw my partner and I and don't call me a freak for drawing what YOU think is incest.

- A. Skywalker Fictive who read source by writers and was shown his sourceself is flirting with someone people claim is his "brother" or "father" in grossly queerphobic ways

x

[kamomie]

I really tried to do a more general commentary on Q!Foolish, but it does focus more so on the recent happenings OTL

Quick note, I’m working with the information we have as of July 30, so things might change and my views and interpretation of q!Foolish might not hold next month LOL

TL; DR

Q!Foolish is a complex character, who doesn’t fully understand consequences in relation to other people, largely because he is unable(currently, might change) and unwilling to view issues from another person’s perspective. He’s self-centered and it’s starting to become a problem for himself and others. This is not to discredit his good sides, which I also touch on, though a little less because this got long just talking about the first part. At the very end I list a few of his traits I don’t touch on in the main text, but I feel deserves to be pointed out too.

Now let’s start! Long read ahead!

One of my key takes on q!Foolish, is his inability to fully understand consequences, while simultaneously being aware of the possibility of consequences, but simply choosing not to engage with those ideas and thoughts. This is because he has a self-centered view, and so when he does think about consequences, he thinks about it regarding himself, and not others. Now, self-centeredness isn’t bad, as I’ve stated before, however it becomes a problem when it starts actively hurting others.

Him arresting q!Tazercraft shows this. While he has sporadically shown a bit of worry for them, he’s largely unbothered. He seems aware that there will be consequences, but it seems like he doesn’t quite understand the severity. Add to it that his focus is still on himself, “It’ll be a lonely path” he says, as if it’s somehow unreasonable for his friends to be angry with him after this betrayal. He simply lacks interpersonal understanding regarding these sorts of negative situations. He seems unable and unwilling to see it from another perspective.

This is not to say he’s completely unaware of others, he’s shown plenty of times that he does have interpersonal skills and understanding. One example being that he understood that people wouldn’t take kindly to his actual reasoning for agreeing to help the federation arrest q!Tazercraft, and so he lied and gave a reason most islanders would agree with and understand. But, again, this is one of the instances where he fails to factor in the possible consequences of his words, because if the truth comes out, people are likely to get angry at him for lying on top of his other actions. There won’t be a possible redeeming in the others saying, “well, at least he was honest with us”, that’s already been blown.

Another example of him ending up being aware of how others might feel, is when he got killed by Pomme. He perfectly knows not wearing armor puts him at risk, and he knows that when he instigates a playfight, there is always a risk one might get downed. However, he simply doesn’t care about the risk, to him it’s just whatever, he can easily brush it off and laugh at it, because to him it’s not a big deal. In this instance however, he becomes aware of how Pomme feels, and so he reassures her. This is an example of him realizing that his actions caused another person to do something that they felt bad about and ending up holding himself accountable for what happened by reassuring Pomme. This, however, seems to be more of an exception to the rule.

Either way, q!Foolish is so sure of himself, that it rarely occurs to him that he might be the issue or that others might not see things his way. And as I’ve said, when it does occur to him, he shuts that line of thinking down. It’s very evident when he talks about his work with the federation, that his focus is entirely on how it’ll affect him, and not how it’ll affect everyone around him. It seems that to him their reactions would be the problem, and not that it’s his actions they’re reacting to.

This part is not entirely confirmed canon! But if we assume q!Foolish to be some sort of immortal, then to me, he gives off this sort of young immortal vibe, that’s a bit arrogant, as if he sees himself above whatever could happen. Like, obviously he’s gonna be fine, right? While also a bit unknowing and uncaring about other people. Kinda like “You’re just dumb if you don’t agree with me/understand me LOL”, not meaning to be malicious, but coming across as entirely unsympathetic. 

Anyway, this is why I hope he gets forced to face the consequences for this traitor arc. I so badly want to see him handle something where the harm was done to others and not to himself, because he can easily brush off the consequences of his actions that harmed himself, but it might surprise him that he can’t brush off the hurt he caused q!Tazercraft.

Another interesting aspect of q!Foolish is his whole “I’m just a silly little guy!” thing. I think he does this for two main reasons, enjoyment of life and unpredictability / getting underestimated. Let’s start with enjoyment of life. Q!Foolish wants to enjoy life, be silly and see where things take him. His easygoing nature can be seen in how quickly he forgives people, how he generally acts, his attitude towards armor and dungeons. It can also be seen in his parenting, as he seems to be one of the more easygoing parents.

Now, I’m not team bad parent q!Foolish- Largely, I think he does great parenting Leo, however his easygoing nature does occasionally create less than safe situations. as an example, when he does dungeons with eggs, his easygoing nature paired with his silliness, will often manifest in him seemingly not taking the eggs safety seriously. He’ll ask the eggs to protect him and send them headfirst into danger, because he fully believes it’s the best way to live and that nothing bad will happen. Add to this that often when he’s with eggs other than his own daughter, he wipes his hands clean of responsibility. “If anything were to happen, it’s not my fault”, is an iteration of what he’ll say. This is not to say he doesn’t care; I’d say, the eggs probably bring out some of his best sides. I think the reason why he doesn’t want responsibility for them, is because it’s one of the instances where is aware of just how terrible the consequences would be to lose them.

But his easygoing nature and silliness also lets the eggs have fun, in a way that they often don’t get to with their parents. Q!Foolish will start playfights with eggs and let them beat him and kill him, all in good fun. He’ll encourage them to do waterdrops and to try things out for themselves.

It also often extend to the other Islanders, they often have a lot of fun with q!Foolish. It’s especially noticeable when q!Bad spends time with him, those two can get really silly with each other and it’s honestly so funny to watch.

Now let’s talk about the unpredictability and getting underestimated. I don’t think q!Foolish is stupid, I do however think he overestimates himself and how well he can handle certain situations. But I think a part of his overt silliness is a way for others to underestimate him. It’s a way for him to feel in control of his narrative. It also creates an air of unpredictability, as it can be difficult to tell when he’s being serious. This is also a part of why people allow his pro-federation tendencies, because surely, he wouldn’t seriously sell them out for a cloud or whatever he fancies in the moment? This unpredictability also serves as a an out for him. He can simply say “Well I’ve always been like this, it’s your fault for trusting me?”, meanwhile he’s been benefiting from this trust and care he’s received from his friends.

The reason I say q!Foolish overestimates himself, is because I think he’s started to realize he’s being manipulated by the federation, however, he thinks that because of this knowledge he has the upper hand, but I think he’s actually playing right into the federations hands. And it’s the same with the other islanders, he thinks he has the upper hand by being deceitful and lying about Richas, and that it means he can deal with whatever comes his way. He just fails to realize that if anything slips out and if he continues this path, the floor will crumble beneath his feet.

Other traits I’ve observed from Q!Foolish:

-Acceptance. He’s shown many times he’s a live and let live type of guy, which ties into his general self-centeredness, because to him doing something others might not agree with, doesn’t matter if he isn’t the victim.

-Adventurous. Q!Foolish, likes going on adventures and trying new things. Not afraid to do something new.

-Hardworking. He’s proven many times with his builds that he’s hardworking.

-Loyal. However, it’s reserved solely for his closest family, Vegetta and Leo.

-Patient. I touched on it a bit above but wanted to add a little something onto it. His patience at the start of the qsmp was slightly above average, after Leo’s arrival, it’s only gotten better.

-Charming. Q!Foolish has a lot of charm, and it helps him tremendously, both gaining friends and staying out of trouble.

-Friendly. Almost always friendly and approachable.

-Perfectionist. Again, ties in with his building skills, he’s very meticulous with his builds and want them to be as perfect as possible, though he’s not overly perfectionist, he’s able to recognize when he’s building something for the first time it might not be perfect, but instead uses it as a learning experience.

-Procrastinator. Often ties in with being a perfectionist, because it requires a lot of focus and so you might stop for a while to catch a break.

[lastthroes]

do people really not realize that when in berseria magilou is treated like a grandma, including that one title, it's in the same jest any 20-something years old male character in the games is also treated like he's ancient?

[lilbirdblu]

i understand it's a smart strategy [and one that is allowed] but i honestly hate how its become the meta to turn in global contracts right before the server closes

[antaraxiia]

@smolcuriouskitten // plotted starter .

          It was a RARE thing for him to be able to leave the underworld without the obstacles of mortality.

          In the also rare instances where he was able to remember everything, anyway. (He almost preferred to forget. When he remembered being as he was currently, things like hunger, exhaustion, and the general feeling of flesh against bones was enough to make him want to scream sometimes.) Yet, he knew this was a SPECIAL case, one that had been sitting on his mind for some time. In another rare instance, he actually decided to put the pieces in place to pursue ANSWERS. For the most part, he was more than fine to leave some things as a mystery, yet this particular soul stuck out.

          Usually, when a shade came across him in the underworld, they were in what was probably peak health. For some it was simply the disappearance of the cause of their death, sometimes other showed up much younger. It changed with each. Yet...the shade he was currently looking for was different.

          She kept popping in and out of existence. From his perspective, at least. Would find him by the shore of the river, looking like she had lost a fight. Different wounds, bruises, hair missing, it changed every time she appeared to him before she would leave again in a matter of minutes. She had actually made him JUMP the first time he saw her. Now, she was just...inexplicably gone.

          If it wasn't to quiet his thoughts and concerns about it all, he could argue that it was his DUTY to look into it.

          Regardless, he had followed the inclinations he was told to follow and manifested himself in a dark hallway. Looking utterly CIVILIAN outside of the dark tendrils that disappeared into the shadow behind him, disappearing once he had finished manifesting. He looked around himself at the quiet hallway.

          An apartment building, he supposed?

          He spotted a woman a couple doors down from him, recognition taking a moment to really hit him. She looked different from the last time he had interacted with her. Better, less beat up. Yet, he was sure this was the person he was looking for.

          ...How to approach this?

          He let out a small breath, tucking his hands in his pockets as he stepped out into the light of the hallway. He figured he should see what state her memory was in regarding him.

          Deciding not to scare her by just speaking, Kharon cleared his throat once he was a few steps away from her.

[touchlikethesun]

Re your jegulus post - I’m neutral leaning to negative on them but it’s more to do with how they are presented in fanon rather than individual fics. James often reads as a side character in his own relationship and Regulus’ moral grayness gets excused as “poor babys so traumatised he can do no wrong”.

Do you have any recs where those are avoided?

i have a few things to say: one, totally get not liking fanon presentations of jegulus, especially when people are just joking around, there can be a sort of flanderisation of their characters that i will admit i'm not always a fan of.

that being said tho, i really think a lot of jegulus fic is really interested in their dynamic like seriously (and not for meme, even if the memes do have their place), and long fics especially have the time to develop the complexity, and honestly 9 times out of 10 if you pick up a jegulus fic, it is not going to read like how you described at all.

clarifying point, because this bothers me a touch: there's a big difference between people excusing regulus' actions "because he's traumatised" and people trying to realistically portray a traumatised child. like. i really really really don't think most jegulus fic just completely absolves reg of responsibility for any reason.

as for recommandations, i can't say i'm entirely up to date with what is out there, but genuinely, choices by messermoon and only the brave by solmussa to a great job with maintaining the moral grayness of the characters. choices in particular does a really good job with james' character.

i assume based off your ask that you wanted canonverse fics, and those are the only two canonverse fics i've read recently. there's a lot more in AUs, but then ofc the stakes are different, the characters are (necessarily) not the same.

one last thing, it's alright if you don't like jegulus, or if it doesn't click for you, that's completely fine. i think it's good to keep in mind tho that just because it doesn't click for you doesn't mean that it's without merit, or other people are stupid/wrong for liking it. preferences are just that, and they are very personal, it's best to stick to what you like and ignore what you don't. not that you would think like that, but it bears saying all the same.

[makkir0ll]

"you have really long eyelashes"

it catches him off guard. you guys are just laying in your bed scrolling on your own phones. he didn't even feel you staring at him. how long have you been looking?

"thanks?" he replies

"no i mean seriously like drop the lash serum." you joke at him as you continue to observe him.

they're long and thick. the kind of lashes that have a natural curl, unlike yours, that fall straight down and take several minutes to curl to your perfect liking. not to mention the layers of mascara you apply to get them to even remotely look like his.

he turns his head to you and you don't miss his dilated pupils as his eyes bore into yours. you take note of how the lashes perfectly frame his eyes. and you're so jealous.

but then an idea pops into your head, you smile to yourself and he senses it coming.

"can i-"

"no" he cuts you off.

"babe please you don't even know what i was about to say!" you grab onto his shoulder as you plead.

"whatever it is im sure it's going to be bad." he retorts, turning his face away from you and going back on his phone.

"i'll buy you you're favorite food."

and that's how you end up here on his lap with your mascara in your hand. his hair is pushed back as his hands rest on your hips, drawing small circles as he awaits your actions.

you open the bottle with the black liquid and bring the wand close to his eyes. "don't move" you whisper and he listens. mainly because he's scared that you're going to poke his eye out as you bring the wand to the base of his eyelashes and wiggle it slowly before moving it up to coat the length of the lashes. some of the mascara gets on his eyelids. you repeat the actions on the other eye before going back and doing a second coat. you can tell that he might be slightly nervous that you're going to blind him with the way he holds his breath and the grip he has on your hips get ever so slightly tighter.

you move yourself off his lap and he goes to grab his phone so he can see what he looks like.

"wait no not yet, i'm still not done" you say as you go and grab ur q-tips and micellar water.

"still?"

"yes still, i need to clean up the mascara on your eyelids," you say as you place yourself back on his lap. you open the bottle of micellar water and carefully put the clear liquid on the q-tip. you bring the white stick of cotton to his eyes and you tell him to close them. he feels the wet cotton and it's a weird feeling. you watch the q-tip turn darker the more mascara you wipe off.

"okay i'm done!" you say and he opens his eyes and you don't think he's ever looked more majestic. his already long lashes looking even longer and bolder now that he has the mascara to bring them out. you notice that the color of his eyes pop more. "you look so pretty" you smile as lean in to pepper kisses along his face. his cheeks feel warm and he can already tell that they're probably red.

he reaches over to his phone and opens the camera app and switches the camera so he can see himself. and he immediatly notices the stark difference in his eyes with the mascara. he brings his fingers to his lashes to touch them. it feels weird and his eyes kind of feel weighed down. but he has no regrets when he sees you smiling at him so fondly.

"they look nice." he smiles at you, dropping his phone to the side.

"i know right, ugh im so jealous i wish i had your lashes. all my problems would be solved." you say, thinking about the long and excruciating lash routine you perform every morning.

"all of them?"

"yes, all of them."

he chuckles at your words. "alright, but can you take it off now, it feels weird." he says, hands coming to touch his lashes again. you pout as you grab the micellar water you put away and a cotton pad and remove the mascara from his eyelashes, being gentle so that he doesn't lose a few. he appreciates the action. and maybe he would let you put more than just mascara on his face another day.

KAGEYAMA (has the best lashes argue with the wall), suna, tsukishima (genuinely terrified that you're going to make him go blind), OSAMU, kuroo, MATSUKAWA MY LOVE, iwaizumi, OIKAWA (he would eat that shit up), akaashi, kenma, +ur fav.

[comatosebunny09]

heavy | sylus q.

— summary: who takes care of the person busy caring for everyone else? sylus. the answer is sylus. — cw: female!reader, fingering, unprotected intercourse, naughty things done in a bathtub, creampie, alcohol mention, pet names, slight choking, allusions to depression and anxiety, explicit language, praise kink, not proofread, kinda rough sex, mdni — wc: ~3.4K — dividers by: @grabby-smitten — now playing: truman show - merges & l3gion

It begins with a steady pressure behind your eyes. 

Untreated, it blossoms into something more intense, seeping through your temples like spilled liquid, and the pain borders unbearable. You can’t focus on your work, the harsh glow of your monitor worsening your plight.

You snatch your glasses from your face. Attempt to ease the pressure with kneading fingers. Pinch the bridge of your nose. Sigh. It’s useless; your vision blurs around the edges, and your head is pounding as if your brain’s seeking release from your skull.

You don’t notice Captain Jenna behind you. Jump when she comes to you in the form of a firm hand on your shoulder, voice soft. “You should go home to get some rest,” she suggests through a pitying smile.

You don’t protest. There’s more to her words than a simple plea. It’s an order, and you’re smiling small, already gathering your things and slinking out of your cubicle. 

You’re grateful for the reprieve. Maybe a restart will help ease the weight off your shoulders.

—

Something smells divine.

It jumpstarts your appetite, the rich scent of herbs and meat seeping through the cracks of your apartment door. You didn’t realize how hungry you were, your stomach snarling whilst you ease your key into the lock. 

You can’t remember if you left something in the oven. Can’t be bothered to recall much of anything, your head still pulsing like a war drum. Your curiosities are sated once you slide into your home, and the aroma is stronger here. Hearty, nearly lifting you into the air to carry you to the kitchen like one of those old-school cartoons.

You meander into your kitchen after dropping your pack by the door—by a pair of designer, red-stained loafers twice the size of your own feet. Your suspicions are confirmed when you catch sight of a familiar shock of white and broad shoulders nestled between your humble decor and drab cabinets.

Never mind how he got here because you’re reining in a giggle. He’s wearing the frilly Kiss Me apron you got him as a joke gift a few months back. Humming something, bobbing his head before he acknowledges you over a broad shoulder. His scarlet eyes are mirthful, and the soft grate of his voice is enough to put you to sleep.

“You’re home early.”

You smile, tired and swollen-eyed, leaning against the doorframe. Study him over crossed arms. He’s busy with something on the stove. Concocting something delicious, and your stomach reminds you that it’s empty and you’re cruel.

“Jenna kicked me out.”

His shoulders shake with a chuckle when he returns his attention to the pot and wooden spoon in his hands. “Good. I take it you’ve only sustained yourself on coffee and air today.” Stopping, he peers at you again, a knowing lift to his brow. 

You sputter, the heat of embarrassment prickling your neck. He knows you too well. You’re an ass who often neglects yourself, pushing food and sleep to the backburner in favor of shouldering everyone else’s burdens. 

You pout, caught red-handed. The man in your kitchen chuckles. Sets the spoon down, and you watch him stride across the tiles for something. 

He comes to you with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, already pouring the red, viscid fluid into a wine glass. Slender fingers brush over yours when he eases the glass into your hand. He angles himself to kiss you, full-bodied and red-blooded on the lips. A kiss that leaves you reeling. Craving more, the warm scent of his skin hijacking your senses as you tug on the collar of his shirt.

You whine when he pulls away, and he’s all smug smiles that crease the corners of his eyes when he steps back to tend to dinner.

A tide of warmth wades over your skin. You smile against the rim of your glass, grateful to have someone who knows you sometimes better than you know yourself.

Drinking might not be the best decision for you right now. But you haven’t the heart to tell him, watching with all the fondness of the world as he buzzes around the kitchen like a Disney princess.

—

Dinner will be ready in 30.

In the meantime, Sylus shepherds you into your bathroom, insisting you settle in with a bath. 

It’s lavender-scented inside your bathroom, the warm, wet steam washing over your cheeks. Greeted by the dull hum of the ventilation and the sound of rain lazily falling onto the world beyond your window.

You’re exhausted and hanging on by a thread. Don’t think you could manage the task of undressing on your own. So, he’s gentle as he props you on your counter, stripping you of your clothes, touching you like something to be revered.

His lashes bow when he swoops in to adorn your bare shoulders and the swell of your chest with kisses. Your body responds in kind when he nears your pebbling nipples, though he doesn’t grace them with the lazy drag of his lips. 

He promised you he would be good. At least until you’re washed up, fed, and comfortable.

He brands your skin to the crooks of your elbows, down to your wrists, your fingers. Catches your gaze when he kisses between the peaks and valleys of your knuckles, and the fire that burns beneath his irises sets your insides alight. 

Broad palms move down your sides, perch on your hips. He hefts you up with one hand fastened to your rear, and your arms and legs unconsciously shoot out to encircle him. He chuckles, swinging you ‘round, walking you to the tub. You’re the biggest baby when you’re tired, but he would never complain. He prefers you like this—all supple and pliant, desperate for the feel of his body against yours.

You watch the rose petals he sprinkled in your bathwater cling to your skin once you’re inside. And it works as a soothing balm through your person, the frothy water embracing you like a warm hug at the end of a tedious day. 

You sigh heavily, leaning back against the tub’s wall. Your eyes slide shut. You’re about to succumb to the pretty girls of slumber when the sound of shifting fabric alarms you. 

Sylus moves to leave, but your hands dart out to ensnare his wrist. He glances at you over his shoulder, a question hanging between his brows. 

“Stay,” you urge with a pout. Throw in watering puppy eyes for dramatic effect, laying the guilt on thick. 

He chuckles something hearty, settling onto the floor beside you. “I figured you could use some alone time. Besides, I’ve got dinner going. Do you want me to burn it? Cajun wasn’t on tonight’s menu, sweetheart.”

You huff. “You set a timer, right? It’ll be fine.” 

Truth is, he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this plane right now. A constant in a world filled with turmoil. Your security blanket. You never mind him impeding on your time, your space.

“Shall I help you bathe, then?” He doesn’t await your response, already reaching across you for your body wash and loofah. 

He’s tender as he works the soap into a rich lather over your shoulders. Honey-slow, dipping between the valley of your breasts, snickering when you instinctively arch into his touch when the material catches on your nipples. Once he’s satisfied your upper body is thoroughly saturated with suds, he maneuvers himself onto his haunches on the floor.

“Sit up,” Sylus instructs. You sluggishly obey, bowing forward to grant him access to your back. 

Lids shuttered, a content hum eases from your throat as he works out the knots and strain of your back. Smooths the loofah down the ridges of your spine, encircling one shoulder blade before moving onto the other. He’s gifted, trained in the art of your body. Knows just where to touch, to massage to get the cogs in your mind turning and your breaths evening out.

He dips the loofah into the water, and you giggle as it slides between the swell of your ass and the tub’s floor.

“Well, I can’t exactly get you clean when you’re sitting down like this.” 

Your gaze shifts to his. His eyes darken with something familiar, a smirk curving one corner of his lips as he salaciously cocks his head. 

You feel a pull in your tummy, and your lashes flutter, lips parting slightly. Without thinking, you position yourself onto your hands and knees, the water lazily sloshing about and licking your thighs. Curiously, you peer at him from over your shoulder and waggle your ass, playfully signaling for him to finish up.

Resigned, amused, Sylus works the loofah over the globes of your ass. Up and down the backs of your thighs. And it’s purposeful when, with each pass, he grazes your fat labia, peeking through the plush of your thighs. You shudder each time, a pleasant sigh escaping your mouth, and you wiggle to chase the harsh drag of the loofah, if only for him to mistakingly graze your clit with it.

He tsks behind you. “Sweetheart, we agreed this would only be a harmless little bath.”

How harmless could he expect it to be with him looking at you like that? Touching you like that, his palm branding your thigh whilst an errant thumb kneads the muscle there, dangerously close to the outskirts of your cunt?

“I changed my mind,” you relent in a breathy, needy whisper. And you’re rocking your hips this way and that, trying to lure his thumb into the catch of your pussy.

He laughs again, the sound of it murky, and you feel it furling in your chest. “As you wish.”

Your body vibrates with anticipation. You’re not made to wait long, a virile, wide palm stroking your legs apart. Soon after, you feel his thumb stroking down the expanse of your slit, and you jump, a shudder racking through you.

“Easy, darling,” he coos. Voice is thick as bourbon, and his thumb even thicker as he dips just the tip of it into your puckering sex.

He moves maddeningly slow as he collects some of your nectar on his thumb, smoothing it between your folds in search of your clit. He finds it with laser precision, stroking the distended pearl to life with meticulous circles that leave you baring down on nothing and moaning against the grit of your teeth.

A hand fastens around your hip. Massages one of your cheeks, holding you steady whilst he fucks his thumb into you slow and consistent, and the sticky squelch of your cunt soon fills the atmosphere as he works you into a mess of shaking tendons and sighs of “yes, yes, please. More. Fuck.”

Spurred by your words, he alternates between fingering you—trading out his thumb for his index and middle digits—and rubbing your clit. Ducks in to blister your rear with kisses, and you jerk, hypersensitive to every sensation, every sound. He pants softly behind you. Enjoys himself, watching you fall apart around his fingers, his girth pushing against the seam of his pants. He palms himself, kissing closer to your labia, the scent of it bewitching, and he wills himself not to add his tongue into the fray.  

He curls and pistons his fingers inside you, a frothy ring of lubricant collecting around the base of his digits. He eases a palm over the curve of your stomach to massage your tits and pluck your nipples, sweltering breaths fanning across your spine. 

You’re pushed closer to the precipice, towards that slurry edge of bliss. He murmurs words of praise against your skin, and you hump against his fingers like a beast in heat, chasing that sparkling rush. Chasing that crest of pleasure in your stomach, eyes screwed shut. Just a little longer. Just—

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” Sylus quietly demands, pressing against that unfathomable knot of pleasure inside you. 

And as if he has some sort of hold on your body, the world falls away from you at his behest. Your orgasm ripples through you, spilling like lava, pooling in your stomach, and dripping to your extremities. Your mouth opens with a gasp. A shaky exhale with his name in it, and you pitch forward, catching yourself on your hands last minute before you nosedive into the water. 

He laughs behind you, roosting one hand on your hip and the other on your stomach to steady you. “Good girl,” he croons, rubbing your pulsing cunt with his fingers. “You look so fucking sexy when cum like that.”

You shiver, clearly overstimulated, and he resigns to help ease you back onto your rear in the bathtub, kissing the sensitive space behind your ear. 

He lures you into a languid kiss with gentle fingers beneath your chin. Licks into your mouth, groaning his approval as you lazily return his affections, loose-limbed and spent.

You prop the back of your head on the tub’s rim, lips still sealed to his, and Sylus rubs up and down your body to encourage you back down from the clouds. You whimper into his mouth when he pinches your nipples, catching his hands to twine your fingers together, the stimulation too much. 

He greedily milks what remains of your voice from your throat before drawing away from your lips with a sticky click to pepper your throat and shoulder with apologetic kisses. 

When your heart beats something steady, and your labored breaths slide into something more even, Sylus peels away. “Dinner’s ready,” he purrs, grin all toothy, smug.

You track his movements to the door through hooded eyes, a satisfied cant to your lips whilst you sink to your chin into the water, mind a delicious slurry and the tension between your shoulders nearly gone.

—

“You’re insatiable,” he breathes, hot and wanton, against your hinged-open mouth. 

You have him notched between your splayed legs on the kitchen counter, and his hands are on an unhurried mission over your thighs whilst you kiss him. Your arms snake about his shoulders, fingers, easing into delicate locks of white, and you slant your mouth possessively over his, sealing your bodies together.

Dinner cools on the stovetop. Stuffed chicken breasts, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus. All a labor of love that you promise to consume after you’ve consumed him, pushing your greedy tongue into his mouth.

His groan vibrates your tongue whilst his thumbs ease over the inner cut of your thighs, and he grazes your outer labia with each pass, sending satisfying jolts of electricity throughout.

The bath renewed you. Cleared the fog from your mind, stoked the fire of your libido. Which is why you ambushed him in the kitchen, seducing him into fucking you when he was just about to set the table. 

Your body rolls like waves licking the shore against his, your nipples rubbing against the harsh fabric of his shirt. 

He’d peeled the straps of your negligee down your shoulders, bunching the neckline beneath your tits. 

“Fuck me,” you exhale, grappling with the catch of his belt. Hands perched on your waist, he peers into your eyes, brows knit with the strain of reining in his desire.

“Can I at least get you to the bed first,” he breathes, gritting his teeth when your lips brand his Adam’s apple.

“Nope.” You finally pull his belt free, and you busy yourself with unbuttoning his pants.

He chuckles darkly. Shakily, propping his hands on the countertop on either side of your thighs, letting you do terribly distracting things to his neck with your mouth. He sucks in a breath when you palm him, hand hot and searing against the cotton of his briefs. Cranes his head back, and you exhale all triumphantly against his throat, hand dipping beneath the elastic waistband to fish him from the confines of his underwear.

“Fuck,” he curses through swollen lips. Cheeks dust with a pretty shade of crimson, and he twitches each time your hand smooths over the leaking tip of his cock. Each time you stroke down the shaft, back up to thumb his slit, smearing his pre-cum over him.

“Fuck me,” you order once more, licking behind his ear. Draw his lobe into your mouth to nibble it, and he groans something bitten off, a pliant mess of muscle and sinew beneath the artful glide of your hand.

With no further goading, Sylus encases your hips with his hands. Drags you impossibly closer toward the edge of the counter, replacing your hand on his cock with his. 

He strokes himself so well. Your mouth waters from the sight, your sticky, bare pussy clenching with anticipation. The predatory gleam in his eyes reads as one of restrained desire. Like a beast subdued behind a cage, giving you an out, a chance to escape.

You merely swallow, enraptured by the sight of him so desperate for you. So eager when, moments ago, he was resistant to your temptation. He fists himself once more, his weighted hand swallowing up the bulk of his cock. He taps his heavy dick against your folds, the sensation curving your spine and siphoning an unbidden whimper from your lips.

He undulates his hips, rubbing himself between your folds, saturating his turgid flesh with your essence. And oh, it feels so good when his tip bumps the pucker of your pussy. He teases you with the prospect of fucking you proper, drawing himself out to repeat the motion from before, each time digging a little deeper.

When he finally eases home, nestled deep in the hot channel of your sex, your rigid walls ravenously sucking him in, you share a breath out. His chest heaves when he looks at you. The need that lurks behind his gaze makes your cunt flutter, and his responding groan is strained with the effort of keeping still inside you.

You lean back on your hands. Give him the go-ahead with a flicker of your lashes, and then he’s moving inside you. Fucking into you like a well-oiled machine, and he lifts the hem of his shirt to watch your union. 

You watch the steady ripple of his abs, wanting to chase the sweat that beads between them with your tongue. For now, you’ll settle for enjoying the feel of him. Throw your head back, your heels hooking into the backs of his thighs, keeping him in motion. Refusing to let him go. 

“Fuck,” he sighs. “Fuck, do you know what you do to me?” 

A sweltering hand curls around your neck, squeezing with enough pressure to bring your pulse thrumming to your ears. His thumb finds the hang of your bottom lip, drawing your mouth open to ease it inside. Your tongue darts out to sample the taste of it. Wraps around the worn pad, and you close your lips around it to suck. 

He fucks into you harder, your eyes rolling back as his balls knock against your ass. Reluctantly draws his finger from the hot suction of your mouth, splaying his fingers down your sternum to where your bodies convulge. 

“You feel so fucking good, kitten,” Sylus breathes. Thumbs your clit, your body convulsing. “So good, squeezing me like that. Taking me like such a big girl. Look at you. So fucking good. Ah, fuck.”

That sparkling feeling pools in your stomach again. You grit your teeth, bowing forward to roost a hand on his shoulder. Your gazes interlock, and he’s so fucking beautiful like this, that carefully constructed composure giving way to something primal. Animalistic, and his hair falls into his face as he grips your hip to the point of bruising, mooring you to the countertop. Keeping you steady for him to ravage you.

After some time of skin slapping and desperate moans saturating the air, he twitches inside you. Hips stutter. Head falls back while his mouth hangs open, and he sighs, so relieved with one final stroke, molten spurts of cum painting your insides a gooey white. Branding down the inner cut of your thighs, puddling on the countertop.

You tug him into your arms, blistering his neck with open-mouthed kisses and the soft rake of your teeth. He shudders, leaning into you, propped on his hands on the counter, face nestled between your breasts.

You share a laugh as you massage his scalp. Relieved. And you’re patient as he softens inside you, stroking over the broad expanse of his back, cooing affectionate words against the crown of his head.