#so that's my take on the matter 😌

[kindahoping4forever]

I saw someone on TikTok describe 5sos as a 'trust the process band' and I need to know your thoughts

That's an interesting concept! I could be way off base without knowing the OP's context, but taken at face value, I interpret that statement as meaning that fans may not always understand the creative choices that the band makes but if you hang in and "trust the process," those decisions end up justified and proving to have been worth the risk. And I think that is a good and interesting point and has definitely proven to be true!

[essektheylyss]

Since I have finally defeated the horrors*, I'm starting to catch up on World Beyond Numbers after having fallen behind when school started after arc 1, and I did in fact have to pause to take a walk to get some baklava before getting too far into the Citadel food crawl because it is late afternoon and I was not gonna make it.

[cepheusgalaxy]

@clickerflight @whump-art-exchange

Image ID: An ink drawing of Kolt, naked, from the whump series Fallen. He is bruised and looks away as the chain attached to his collar is tugged. He is inside what appears to be a cell, with multiple eyes on the walls watching him intensely. /end ID.

Ok, so, I tried to do this like two times and it took me a while to lay the sketch. I had an idea for what to do--i went to give the series a shot, once i noticed this buddy here is a part of one so i could get better context--and so the idea i had was for making something from his villain days! It appears that Kolt as a villain was very intriguing (at least for me) but I couldn't make a sketch I was satisfied with, so I decided to go more whumpy! I remember a part where Kolt is in his recovery and he remembers when multiple people were watching and mocking him....couldn't get this over my head. Overall, I haven't finished it yet, but Fallen is a great series! They write it so well!

Art taglist:

@for-the-love-of-angst

[psalmsofpsychosis]

Some Batman: Telltale thoughts

[this is a Batman Telltale critical post, ye be warned.]

So. There are perhaps no words in the english language to describe with how stupid i feel right now.

I started Telltale Batman because i thought that it's one of the more distinct unconventional Batman narratives that would let you have a more interesting, complex and nuanced relationship between Bruce and Joker— the game even lets you bring all of Bruce's sincere hypocrisy and sentimental selfishness to the surface and have him admit that yes, he can fight the rogues gallery because it takes a madman to know a madman; to love a madman. For a moment i geniunely thought that i can escape the everpresent shadow of DC hays code in the freakshow funhouse that is Batman comics, i thought Telltale had done something different.

But telltale's approach to The Enemy Within is so flaky and flimsy and timid at best— such noncommittal twist on themes of pain and grief. They take on a hefty plotline, "what does it take to actually fight through evil and be surrounded by it? How long does it take before your resolve and your selfhood cracks? When you lose the mask, which one did you truly lose— The ideal persona, the superhero, the crusader, or the person underneath, the casket that holds all your humanity and your heart and your hopes? How long can you stare onto the abyss before it stares onto you?" It's indeed a very Nietzsche approach to Batman— except that a good Nietzsche narrative takes a lot of intentional plot points and honesty of thought and of heart. And Telltale doesn't commit, not to Bruce's characterization, and not to any other character, and definitely not to Joker's journey in any variation of it. The existence of the Vigilante route is useless on every front; Joker is going to turn into a villain anyway, just with a different hello kitty eyeshadow palette and an extra bland consolation lollipop. No good choice Bruce makes on Joker's behalf affects anything whatsoever, and i particularly love the "community and friendship and sympathy do not help the mentally ill and all that ever works is punishment and shock therapy and confinement and loneliness" message the vigillante route puts on the table, charming charming status quo commandments from DC as always.

Telltale Batman could only be revolutionary if it had dared to break comic convention and let the vigillante route play out like Selina and Bruce's relationship always does; very grey morality, irrational, full of tension and trust, unstable, intriguing, inexcusable, irreversible, unavoidable and heartfelt, human. But we can't have nice things in batmanverse, so both Joker routes run on stuck gears and topple and fall into a predictable narrative hole that neither Bruce nor Joker can claim out of.

And on the predictable front? this story is too lukewarm to be a good time for me personally. When you get 84 Batman comics per minute every other Tuesday, all ending the same way no matter whatever the fickity happens inbetween, you have to pull no punches. This is my 53368532th Batman-with-tragic-batjokes-implications read of the week, say something new or forever hold your blue-balling silence, i dont care.

[dan-crimes]

My sibling is trying to out Link me, you DARE QUESTION THE OG!! THE MASTER !! THE HOLDER OF THE KNOWLEDGE OF LINK !!!!!

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt Him again (Wendy Carter)

[starsandsuch]

Libra Through The Houses: Where Do You Appreciate ✨Aesthetics✨ The Most 🍒

🎀 To put it bluntly: where are you superficial af? 😌💅😂

🎀 Libra represents the beautification of something. So where in your life do you prefer things to be beautiful?

🎀 Check the house you have Libra. Can work for sidereal or tropical.

Libra 1H: you want your physical appearance to look good. Always sporting your ideal hair, makeup, clothes, nails etc. You feel most authentic when you look physically beautiful. Since your physical appearance matters a lot to you, you spend a lot of money on ✨beautification✨. No matter what you strive to achieve your “desired appearance”.

Libra 2H: food has to look good for you to eat it. If the food don’t look good you ain’t eating it. This placement reminds me of someone who loves those little perfect looking pastries, cakes, deserts. You like foods that have an aesthetically pleasing look to it like sushi for example 🍣. You like to have a pretty wallet/purse. You may have custom design credit cards that are pink/sparkly/hello kitty. You guys have thee prettiest ID pictures! Your passport picture eats too. You are the person to be full glam and bring a ring light to the DMV to take your ID pic😂. Ok diva📸.

Libra 3H: oop I’m bouta spill your tea rn. You are the person in school with thee most aesthetic pencils, pens, backpacks. Your school supplies had to eat okur💅📚. Lisa Frank notebook girly. Rae Dunn stationary. Gel pens. You also love having pretty friends, in HS you could’ve been part of a clique of pretty girls. In present day you like your tech devices to have aesthetically pleasing phone cases, matching colors of airpod case, MacBook etc. You love cute stationary! You have to have aesthetically appealing social media presence! Even if you have socials where you don’t show ur face directly, whatever you are doing it HAS to look good. Masters of the ✨curated✨ IG feed. Hello Leo risings yes you take the prettiest pictures and have the cutest Instagram feed 🙄😘😂.

Libra 4H: your home has to be aesthetically pleasing. You don’t play about your decor. Even if you don’t have a huge budget, you like to make your space look ✨pretty✨. My libra 4H friends (cancer risings) in college, used to have the cutest dorm rooms. Which a lot of the time it’s hard to make a dorm room look cute LOL. You all have peaceful, clean homes with tasteful aesthetic touches💅. You like having a pretty car too. If your car doesn’t look good you don’t wanna drive it😭.

Libra 5H: you date the most attractive people. Your romantic interests have to be your “type”. What is your type ? PRETTY. They have to look good. You love bad b!tches that’s your f*ckn problem! 😂 . You also have to have your creative projects look aesthetically pleasing as well. You may make beautiful art. Clothes. You have to look pretty during performances etc. It’s likely that your future kids are beautiful.

Libra 6H: first of all I love you guys. Why ? Bc you all do thee BEST beauty services ✨. Alot of y’all are Taurus risings (applies to Taurus sun + moons too!) and every beauty service I’ve gotten from people with this placement have been on point. Facials, lash extensions, waxing, eyebrow micro-blading. You guys OWN the beauty service/procedure industry. You also HAVE to work in an environment that is aesthetically pleasing. A nice salon, wax studio, office etc. Also a lot of you guys have beautiful pets. Your dog, cat, etc are so adorable! You choose your pet based on how cute it is.

Libra 7H: of course your romantic partner has to be good looking. That’s high on your standards list be honest. People will say: “idc about physical appearance only the inside matters😇” and you’re like: “not to ME, y’all be easy though”😂😭. You will likely have a good looking spouse. It also matters that you and your spouse look good TOGETHER. You guys like being the “swaggy” couple. “Fashion Killas”. “Couple goals”etc. First impressions matter to you a lot, you like to look pretty when you first meet people. You also in general love mingling and socializing with beautiful people.

Libra 8H: you all like having a pretty kitty 🐱. It’s possible you do upkeep on it, waxing, bleaching, laser etc. People with this placement are so proud of it too they will brag on it. Ok diva 😂👑 💅. You look pretty even after undergoing challenging or traumatic situations. This is the placement of someone who has the biggest glow up after a breakup! “Post f*ckboy glow” ✨😌. Also how do you look so expensive on a budget?! People assume you wear designer even if it is from fashionnova ?

Libra 9H: the places you travel have to be aesthetically pleasing. You aren’t the type to go on vacay and do it the gritty way, nope. You need pretty accommodations, beautiful views, bringing your good camera to capture everything in an aesthetic way. People with this placement have the best travel photo dumps. You guys make people wanna visit places after you been there! Ok travel influencer.✈️ Also whatever university you attend has to have pleasing campus aesthetics. USC comes to mind✨ they film so many movies there.

Libra 10H: the public thinks you’re so beautiful! I’ll just say it first since we’re all thinking it. You are thee pretty girl, baddie, dollface, all of the above🎀💅. The place that you work has to be aesthetically pleasing. You work somewhere with pretty architecture, near a nice garden, in a pretty part of the city. Your reputation is one where you are perceived as a well put together, well dressed, good looking person.

Libra 11H: oop this one is pretty obvious. You love having pretty friends 🤩. You like being surrounded by baddies. “I love bad b!tches that’s my f*ckn problem!” 😂 . Your life goals and aspirations involve making a beautiful life for yourself, literally. Pretty face, pretty body, pretty home, pretty bank account. Your social media presence has to be aesthetically pleasing. You take the prettiest IG pics probably 😏.

Libra 12H: you are the person to keep all your pretty, valuable items hidden. Collecting pretty clothes, makeup, accessories, jewelry. Do you need it, no?? But it HAS to be in your archive. You have to hoard ✨pretty trickets✨. You also have aesthetically pleasing spiritual tools, the cutest tarot deck, pretty incense holder, gorgeous crystals. When you are participating in spiritual practices you prefer the surroundings to be aesthetically appealing. No you are not meditating on the dirty ground, doing spells in a cave, you’re doing it on the cutest yoga mat money can buy 😌🧘‍♀️. Your altar is aesthetically pleasing. You have to have a pretty bed with pretty bedding 🛏😍.

starsandsuch all rights reserved ®

[lover-of-mine]

Drop your hair treatment!! Please and thank you!!

Baby, I'm Brazilian, so I use this Brazilian brand, called bio extratus and it's quite pricy here, so I have no idea how that would even work internationally, but I use this professional line that has shampoo, conditioner, leave in and a treatment mask. It's a protein boost line meant for weakened hair. The main ingredients for them are keratin and pepper which sound weird, but this legit SAVED my hair because I melted it with bleach back in 2021 and that forced me to cut it chin length a few times (rip my bad extension era), and now my hair is a significant length in comparison, with no more breakage layering lol, half of it is still bleached and legit that thing is a miracle worker. But I do the shampoo, conditioner and leave in every time I wash my hair, right now is every other day because my hair is really oily, and the mask every Saturday, the mask is protein boost and you could just do it once every 2 weeks but since I'm dealing with bleached hair, I rather do it weekly. I use a grape seed oil every time I need to put my hair up, honestly just because it's lightweight enough to not weight it down, and I got traumatized back when my hair was snapping every time I did anything with it but I used to use coconut oil and had the same effect. I also use rosemary water on the roots every day. I don't know if that thing is a placebo or not with the growth thing but legit that thing changed my routine because it takes longer for my hair to start looking greasy and that alone is a win, but you need to keep it in the fridge or else it will go bad. I also cut off most of the heat use, mostly because I did melt my hair and it is pin straight anyway but also because I broke my straightener and never bought a new one lol. Also satin pillowcases. That was a game changer for me. Something else I used to do when my hair was shorter and I was trying to keep as much of it as I could in my head was drenching it in whatever hair oil I had at the time, braid it, go to sleep, wash my hair in the morning. That was great when my hair was feeling dry or even a little bit more elastic. I also do an acid wash every time I bleach my roots, that one is just 1 part apple vinegar 3 parts filtered water and drench my hair in it. You'll have to blowdry it after or else you will smell like vinegar but it's great to not get that rough post bleach feel on your hair. Honestly, it took me most of last year to work the products out, but I'm happy with the results I have now. Oh, and heat protectant every time I do use heat.

[paddockletters]

redeemed | lando norris part 3

masterlist | previous part | next part summary: dynamic between lando and the you. a/n: if you want to be added to the 'tag list' please let me know in the comments

years ago 2021

yourusername

Liked by lando and 29,652 others

yourusername: much-needed night with my favourite girls💗

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lando:Left out AGAIN. This is becoming a pattern, Y/N

bestfriend: finally, a Lando-free night

carlossainz55: this is the one day a year Y/N takes a break from babysitting Lando

maxfewtrell: FINALLY, a night without your second shadow (lando)

user: the way lando is literally in the comments feeling betrayed 💀

user: WHERE is Y/N’s dress from??

user: the fact lando is already complaining in the comments

yoursername posted stories

yoursername posted stories

yoursername posted stories

lando

Liked by carlossainz55 and 263,261 others

lando: glad to be back!!

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user: THE WAY Y/N AND LANDO ARE SMILING 😭

yourusername: This is an attack on my right to enjoy pasta in peace

↪ lando: then keep crying

user: I just know Lando stole food off Y/N’s plate at least twice

user: do they REALLY need to be in every post together?

user: Okay but why is Y/N everywhere? Like can Lando ever post without her in it?

user: Y/N’s eating pasta like it’s her last meal and I respect that."

user: Okay but that last pic?? THEY’RE SO CUTE??

user: i can tell Lando and his brother are menaces while Y/N just enjoys her food

user: No but why do Lando and Y/N look like a couple here???

user: they are best friends, we get it. no need to remind us every second

lando

Liked by lewishamilton and 593,378 others

lando: How I feel right now. Inches away from P3. My mistake, I misjudged it and the time was deleted. Sorry to everyone at @ mclaren, I effed up, you deserved better today.

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carlossainz55: we win together, we lose together. On to the next one, mate👊

user: still a strong race. keep pushing!

yourusername: you’ll be back stronger, you always are. we still think you’re cool, don’t worry 😌

user: lando, don’t be so hard on yourself! You drove amazingly today

user: you gave it your all, that’s what matters. We’re proud of you! 💙🧡

taglist @hadesnumber1daughter @harrysdimple05 @royaleaxis @angelluv16 @formulaal @chezmardybum @freyathehuntress @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @azuramicah @anayaverse @awritingtree @norrisainz33 @rbv3rstappen @clemson20 @mintdde0nu @blushmimi

[asiatic-apple]

this isn't a request btw I've read about your caleb crying and sex & i wanna add: you know that tweet that goes "my bf fucks me until I get shy around him again morning after" bc, , the way he spoiled you with pleasure 🤤🤤🤤... is it intentional? unintentional? Doesn't matter. You def see him in a new NEW light (this turned out so much filthier i am so sorry😔 it sounded more intimate inside my head)

Anon first of all, thank you for christening my blog with the first ask 🤲🏽❤️ and it is such a good one too!! Second of all, don't apologize for being filthy bc I am a freak just like caleb and this is a safe space for filthy thoughts about our favorite pixelated man 😌

Idk what drugs you put in this ask, anon, but you caused a sudden burst of inspo and what started out as a few sentences of a reply quickly turned into +1k words…oopsies. I know you didn’t ask for this, but I hope you enjoy this random drabble :)

Caleb x female reader

content: nsfw-ish (no actual depiction of smut but it is heavily referenced), first time with caleb, implied multiple orgasms, overstim mentioned, caleb likes to tease you but lovingly, you both jokingly mimic the sounds each of you made last night

You wake to the smell of eggs and bacon, and it takes you a few minutes to remember where you are and what exactly happened last night. The answer is Skyhaven, in Caleb's bed—and after months of tension between the two of you, you finally wound up fucking each other.

No, that word doesn't accurately sum up everything you experienced last night. It was intimate, intense, and emotional for both of you. It even had its moments of clumsiness and soft laughter as you both navigated this new aspect of your relationship and took turns learning each other’s bodies. But on top of all that, you experienced pleasure like you've never felt before.

You quickly get out of Caleb's warm bed to start your morning routine, wanting to freshen up a bit before meeting him in the kitchen. And for some reason, you start to feel a bit timid as you look at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. You think about last night, how wantonly you moaned as he pulled out all the stops to make you feel good. Your cheeks burn as you remember just how many times you came on his tongue and fingers before he finally gave you his cock—and made you come around it several more times.

Thinking back to it, you can't remember exactly how many times you reached your peak, but Caleb didn't stop until you nearly passed out from exhaustion. And even then, you didn't really want him to stop. In the span of one night, you became addicted to the feeling of him inside you.

So after being faced with the filthy memories of everything you did and said last night—and all the filthy things Caleb groaned in your ear with each deep thrust inside you—it's no surprise you're feeling a little sheepish as you exit the bedroom. The worst part is that you’re sure Caleb immediately notices your shyness as he pulls you into a tight embrace. It’s just like him to give you no escape from his piercing gaze.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he whispers, running his hands up and down your back.

You know it's meant to be an innocent gesture, but your memories of last night only grow stronger as you're reminded of how he couldn't keep his hands off you. And how tightly he held you in place while you wriggled beneath him from overstimulation.

“I made us breakfast. Figured you'd be especially hungry after last night.” You're convinced he's saying that on purpose, lowering his voice in that infuriatingly sexy way of his before he chuckles a bit too smugly.

You smack his shoulder lightly, trying to hide the fact that your face is getting even hotter from his teasing. “Shut up,” you whine in mortification.

But Caleb seems intent on making you squirm. “Oh, c'mon,” he says in a playful drawl before pulling you tighter against his chest. “Are you really that embarrassed by what we did last night?”

His fingers trail feather-light touches up your back and along your neck, purposeful in finding your ticklish spots so he can turn your bashfulness into fits of carefree laughter. Once he's satisfied with you loosening up a bit, he looks down at you seriously.

“You don't regret anything, do you?” You can tell he's trying to keep his tone lighthearted, but there's a glint of fear in those wide eyes of his.

“No, god no,” you say without hesitation. “I don't regret anything.”

You swallow that nervous lump in your throat, still feeling the remnants of embarrassment as you meet his gaze to show him you're serious too. And Caleb’s smile only grows bigger. It’s like you've given him the greatest gift with such a simple answer. He gives you a chaste peck on the lips before pulling back with a different kind of grin—one that says he's back to teasing you now that you've both cleared the air a bit.

“Good,” Caleb replies. “Because I definitely want to hear those cute sounds of yours again.”

Another kiss lands on your warm cheeks, and your brain short-circuits from that suggestive look in his eyes. Still, you manage a scoff at his smug tone. He's already so cocky about his ability to rile you up, and a petty part of you wants to remind him how you weren't the only one being enthusiastically loud last night.

“Oh, yeah? And what about you?” You try to keep your voice steady, even as Caleb continues peppering lazy kisses along your cheeks and down your neck. “I'm pretty sure you were louder than I was.” You lower your voice a register, trying to imitate those broken groans he made when he was close to his climax. “Hm, pip-squeak, you feel so good!”

You barely get through your poor impression before breaking character with a snort. But at least Caleb’s onslaught of wet kisses halts for a moment as he also fails at stifling his laughter.

“Right, right,” he says between a few chuckles. Even though you might be exaggerating a bit with your impression, Caleb’s cheeks and ears still tinge pink with a blush. “Was that before or after you kept beggin’ me”—his voice pitches higher—“oh, Caleb, please please don’t stop.”

You gasp dramatically. “I do not sound like that.”

“You’re right. It’s better when you do it.”

You roll your eyes, only half-annoyed by Caleb mentioning how unabashed you were in voicing your pleasure last night. The other half of you is turned on by his teasing. But that’s only for you to know…for now.

But as always, it’s like he can read your mind right at that moment. Caleb leans closer, taking advantage of your flustered state so he can whisper in your ear. “Maybe you need a reminder of how needy you were for me last night. I don't mind joggin’ your memory, honey.”

Before you can even try to come up with a witty remark, he's pulling away and dragging you to the dining table as if he didn’t just threaten you with a good time.

“Come on,” he says with a knowing grin. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold. And after you're done digesting, maybe I can teach you not to get so antsy every time I touch you.”

You huff as you sit at the table. It’s not fair how easily he gets under your skin with his words and sweet promises. And his promises definitely sound too good to be true. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever stop feeling shy after getting fucked so thoroughly by Caleb. Will there ever be a day when he doesn’t make your skin burn with so much pent-up desire?

Caleb interrupts your spiraling thoughts, nudging the plate of food toward you. “I can still see those gears turning in your head, makin’ you wonder if there’s still a reason to be shy. Stop worrying so much, pip-squeak,” he scolds you gently. “Or else next time, I'll have to make sure you feel so good that your pretty head can’t think anymore.”

dni banner by @/cafekitsune

[writeriguess]

Hey darling! Lovely to see you back, your writings were a part of my daily routine as it serves me some comfort for the day! 😌💞

Was wondering if I may request a katsuki bakugou x reader (long term relationship) where the relationship kinda hit a plateau and everything irritated him a lot, however, reader takes in all the (uncalled and unnecessary) mean words said by katsuki whilst trying not to get mean with him either until one day, reader just silently cried and he noticed it, just pause and reflected on his actions and how he has been treating reader lately (ending with some comfort if possible, thank you!)

I noticed you do titles for your writings, if I may suggest; “Haven’t I given enough?” Of course, if you have an alternate title better suited for this, by all means do use it! ☺️

Haven’t I Given Enough?

The days had blurred into routine. Wake up, train, eat, work, sleep—repeat. Somewhere along the way, your relationship with Katsuki had settled into a monotonous rhythm, neither moving forward nor back. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy. You loved him, and you knew he loved you. But lately… lately, everything seemed to set him off.

“The hell are you staring at?” he snapped one evening as you looked at him across the dinner table.

You blinked, startled. “Nothing, I was just—”

“Tch. Then quit lookin’ at me like I did somethin’ wrong.” He shoved a bite of food into his mouth aggressively, shoulders tense.

You exhaled softly, looking down at your own plate. He had been like this for weeks—short-tempered, irritable, lashing out over the smallest things. You had chalked it up to stress. He had always been intense, but this was different.

At first, you tried to brush it off, meet his frustration with patience. You told yourself he wasn’t truly mad at you, just taking his exhaustion out on the person closest to him. But no matter how much understanding you offered, his words still cut.

“Can you stop hovering? I can do my own shit.”

“Damn it, Y/N, do you ever stop talking?”

“Fuck’s sake, do you have to be so damn sensitive about everything?”

Each one was a tiny wound, adding up until they felt like bruises beneath your skin. You swallowed the hurt each time, refusing to snap back, even when his words stung. But tonight, as you sat across from him in silence, something inside you cracked.

You didn’t even realize the tears had started falling until you saw his gaze shift, his chewing slowing as his eyes locked onto your face.

You weren’t sobbing, weren’t making a sound—just sitting there, staring at your untouched plate, tears slipping down your cheeks no matter how much you willed them to stop.

For the first time in weeks, the air between you stilled.

“…The fuck,” Katsuki muttered, his voice quiet, almost bewildered. His brows furrowed, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Are you… cryin’?”

You pressed your lips together, hating how weak you must have looked. You shook your head slightly, but another tear slipped free, betraying you.

Katsuki put his fork down with a sharp clatter. You didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

And that was when it hit him.

The way you just sat there, silent, shoulders slightly hunched—not arguing back, not calling him out, not pushing him away—just… taking it. The weight of every harsh word, every frustrated sigh, every unfair remark.

His stomach twisted.

“…Shit.”

He ran a rough hand through his hair, guilt crawling up his throat. When the hell had he become this person? The kind who made you cry? The kind who took his bad days out on the one person who never deserved it?

His chair scraped against the floor as he pushed back from the table. You stiffened slightly when he moved, but before you could say anything, Katsuki was kneeling beside your seat, one of his calloused hands reaching up to cup your cheek.

“…Baby.” His voice was softer now, strained with something raw. “I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes at the warmth of his palm, inhaling shakily. He had said a lot of mean things lately, but this—this felt genuine.

“I didn’t mean to…” Katsuki swallowed hard, his thumb brushing a stray tear away. “Didn’t mean to be a fuckin’ asshole. I just—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me lately. Work’s been… I dunno, shit. But that’s no excuse. You—” His grip on your cheek tightened, just slightly, like he needed you to hear him. “You don’t deserve that. Any of it.”

Your lip trembled. You wanted to say it was okay, that you understood, but the truth was… it hurt.

“…I know you don’t mean to,” you whispered, finally speaking, voice fragile. “But it still hurts, Katsuki.”

The way his whole body tensed at your words was almost heartbreaking. Like he hadn’t fully realized just how much he had been hurting you.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I—” He hesitated, frustration flickering in his eyes—not at you, but at himself. “I love you,” he said, voice firm but filled with something vulnerable. “I don’t say it enough, but I do. And I swear, I’ll do better.”

A shaky breath left your lips, the tension in your chest easing slightly. Slowly, you reached up, covering his hand with yours.

“…I love you too,” you murmured, voice thick. “Just… don’t push me away like that again.”

His throat bobbed as he nodded. “Yeah. I won’t.”

And for the first time in weeks, Katsuki didn’t just hear you—he listened.

[wolfiihoney]

Satoru is the type of husband who... ౨ৎ

︶︶⊹ ୨obsessed with husband gojo୧ ⊹︶︶

Part one of my “is the type of husband who” series. <33

Satoru is the type of husband who offers you a piece of everything he eats before he takes his first bite (because his baby needs to eat, of course).

Satoru is the type of husband who jokingly tells Suguru that you stole him from Suguru. Sugu simply laughs, happy that he doesn’t have to deal with Gojo’s shenanigans by himself anymore.

Satoru is the type of husband who genuinely believes you look beautiful all the time. When you first wake up, after a quick shower and even after devouring a meal, you're perfect to him.

Satoru is the type of husband who flops directly onto you, laughing loudly with a bright red face whenever you tell a cringe joke because you’re just that funny to him and he lives for the silly moments.

Satoru is the type of husband who has THE Fluffiest pillow- yet refuses to sleep on it because he’d rather lay his big head on your boobs.

Satoru is the type of husband who blows your phone up with kitten videos while he’s at work, followed by a “you😌” text.

Satoru is the type of husband who begs Yuji to teach him how to play all of the video games you play because he’ll take any opportunity to bond with you (and he finds it adorable how happy you get when you beat him).

Satoru is the type of husband who Love, love, loves to kiss you. Anywhere and anytime. No matter how embarrassed it makes you feel.

Satoru is the type of husband who always needs something sweet after dinner and convinces you that you also need a treat. (he tells you it’s because you deserve it, and of course you do).

Satoru is the type of husband who finds out you love to read at the beginning of the relationship and now reads to you every night to help you fall asleep.

Satoru is the type of husband who bites. Like he’s a biter and he will bite your face, boob, ass cheek, and anywhere else that he can sink his teeth into.

Satoru Is the type of husband who would joke about you, Suguru and himself getting married but then actually get jealous when Suguru mentions how that doesn’t sound so bad.

Satoru is the type of husband who low-key gets upset because you won’t allow him in the bathroom while you take care of your business (he’s weird).

Satoru is the type of husband who loves public affection and will kiss and hug you in the candy aisle of the grocery store while people are right there.

Satoru is the type of husband who makes it his life mission to protect you from anything and anyone and he will gladly risk his life to achieve that (because he’s the strongest).

Satoru is the type of husband who breaks his neck just to get a good angle of your face when taking pictures of you. He loves seeing you get dolled up to go out with friends, but deep down he’s sad he wasn’t invited to girl's night.

Satoru is the type of husband who gets bored easily and will seek you out just to ask if you would like to be bored with him.

Satoru is the type of husband who falls in love at first sight and he’s not embarrassed to let you know that.

Satoru is the type of husband who cuddles up to you like a baby and slobs on you when he sleeps. he says it’s because you’re too comfy for your own good.

Thank you for reading <33

Reblogs are definitely appreciated.

[ruinix]

Thinking about Quinn losing his shit after you surprise him with a tattoo of his number on your hip

Hello, lovely… I tried, of course. Let me preface this, let’s imagine the tattoo healed for exactly 2 weeks (google says: the minimum healing time of the (surface) skin is about 2-4 weeks, deeper layers heal for approx. 3-4 months)...so yes. What i wanna say is: Be safe. Hope you enjoy 😌 [Disclaimer: I made Q drink tea here when he doesn't drink tea or coffee 😔]

Breakfast & Tattoos

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Unprotected sex (use protection, silly), Tattoo healing inaccuracy (let it heal pls), Quinn being a literal Horny one

Count: 3544 words | Masterlist

You have that grin. A silly and mischievous grin. Quinn cautiously takes a sip of tea you brewed for him—you might’ve put something in it—but it’s just tea.

He greets you, receiving an immediate response. The grin never wavers even as he cooks you two breakfast. You’re…suspicious. Pretty with your comfy pajama shorts and—his—hoodie but suspicious.

He tries to let you be. Maybe you’ll drop it. Maybe you’ll just outright tease him for his bedhead, because his waves are all over the place from sleeping like dead after a two-week road trip. Maybe you just want to tell him something silly. Maybe. You always tend to do those things. He likes that.

He wants to ask, but you move to the sofa with your iPad, humming a tune. You’re on your back with your legs up an arm rest, feet covered with fluffy socks with strawberries. Still, you throw glances at him, grinning whenever he meets your gaze. He hears the upbeat sound of a game. You definitely found another game. That must be it. You love your games especially on that specific iPad—that was his, now yours—with those stickers of him.

Stickers. They’re cute, but he can’t help the blush on his face whenever he sees them. You’ve never stopped buying stickers from Etsy or from artists on different social media. Of him. It doesn’t matter if it’s memes or little cute cartoons. It’s just him. He knows your little hoarding box where you put your spares which also got their own spares—spare of a spare, you describe them.

It’s adorable but the way he looks so haunted in some of them... He can’t help it. It’s his face.

It’s funny and a bit embarrassing—in a good way

But he never feels bad about it. Not when you cherish every sticker. Not when you are so giddy and filled with excitement every time you buy one. Not when he catches you just gazing at them before hugging it so tightly.

Quinn has to turn away. His cheeks are burning. You make him feel good even through cute little stickers.

Sighing, Quinn finishes up with breakfast. He takes the plates to the coffee table, jumping when you suddenly sit up. You give him a fat smooch on the cheek before you mutter about getting him more tea and your coffee. But, fuck, his cheek burns from your touch. The kiss is soft and quick, but it seeps down to his bones, down to his… It’s way too early to be horny.

Quinn shakes his head, trying his best to clear it. However, he catches your shorts glide up your thighs when you bend over to get something from the lower cabinets. Oh, he’s fucked. It’s not helping how he notices your lace panties imprinting through your shorts.

Somebody, help him.

He looks away, counting down from ten to one, up from one to ten. He’s hard. It’s fucking eight in the morning. What the fuck is wrong with him? He closes his eyes for a second, thinking about hockey, practice, and literally anything else. He fails. His mind keeps showing him the image your ass, grinding against him as he fucked you—

“I think I want some orange juice right now,” he forces out, planting one foot up to hide his erection. He needs something to cool him down.

“mm’kay!” Your sweet voice just made him painfully harder.

“Thanks,” he coughs out. “Maybe a couple of ice?”

“Anything for my Quinny,” you say in a singsong voice, then you start humming a tune, moving your hips with it.

Fuck.

Quinn might need to lock himself in the bathroom at this point. You’re not letting him catch a break. How can he not get turned on after not having his fill of you for two weeks? He can see the jiggle of your ass. He can see your pebbled nipples through your thin and cropped shirt, because you just got rid of your hoodie. Why did you get rid of it? The air conditioning is literally on.

Thank fuck he’s wearing his boxer and his black sweatpants. There would be a dark patch there, because he’s leaking pre-cum. He might even come right there if you don’t stop—

“You want the one with pulp?” you ask, weight in one leg, while holding two orange juice cartons.

“Any,” he barely says, catching a glimpse of something peeking out the waistband of your shorts—what exactly is it, he doesn’t know—but you quickly turn away, bending over again which distracts him. “You slept good when I wasn’t here?” Quin pathetically asks, trying to shake away his hard-on away by pure will—it’s not working.

“Yep,” you gleefully say, finally finishing your instant coffee.

Quinn makes a mental note to make your usual brewed coffee later. He can’t just let you with a cup of instant coffee throughout the day. That’s not okay. His sweet girl deserves the best after all.

Well, after he cools the fuck down.

He settles on the floor, snatching the fleece blanket from the couch to cover himself. He swallows a groan when you slide into the same blanket, leaning against him. Your heat only seeps down his cock more than his shoulder. You are killing him.

He stiffly drinks his juice, shuddering when you kiss his cheek again. He almost doesn’t kiss your cheek too, because he’s a hair away from losing control. But he still does. He gives your cheek a peck. He wishes to kiss you deeper, bend you over the coffee table and just fuck you. He knows you’ll agree if he asks. He knows you’ll let him have his way with you.

He knows.

But he hears your tummy rumble.

He can’t fuck you when you’re hungry. You’ll need energy. Besides, it’s fucking 8AM. He’s so close to punching himself as a reprimand. No one should be this horny this early. That sounds hypocritic, because he remembers several times where he waited for you to wake up so he could fuck you sideways, kissing you through your just-woken-up haze.

Someone needs to bash his head until he gets amnesia.

He’s digging himself a deeper grave. Seriously.

Quinn focuses on breakfast. He loves breakfast with you. He loves it when your weight is partially on him. When you take sips of your coffee, urging him to drink his own beverage. When you talk about what you’ll be doing for work or for your day offs.  When you snatch some of his eggs and replace with potatoes or the other way around, because wanting more of one depends on the day. Today, you are doing the latter. All while, you grin at him with so many things brewing in your eyes.

He finally says, when you two are almost done with breakfast, “Okay, you are acting suspicious.” He narrows his eyes just a tad. “What are you planning?”

You turn and hug him from his side.

Quinn expertly holds you without you getting on his cock. It’s so hard. Especially when you shimmy to get more comfortable over his thigh. He almost starts pleading for you to move and get off him, because you’re so near.

“I have a surprise for you.”

A surprise? He blinks, repeating the word over and over in his head. For him? You have a surprise for him? Excitement courses through his body, temporarily distracting him from his aching member. He likes your gifts. He feels special whenever you give him something. It doesn’t matter what it is. Cookies, shirts, chocolates, a piece of candy. Even if it’s a kiss. Especially if it is. Speaking of a kiss, he wants to kiss you right now.

And he’s back to being a horny fucker.

He can’t help it. Your lips look so delicious, so damn kissable. When you run your tongue over your lower lip, biting it after, he’s done. He kisses you. Languidly. Unhurried in any way. The best thing about kissing you is you kissing back with the same intensity. When he deepens the kiss, tongue sliding past your lips, you are ready for him. You taste like your coffee and it’s perfect.

He missed this while he was away. He doesn’t know how he survived last night with a simple kiss to your forehead. He’s a fucking idiot. He missed out. Not that kissing your forehead is less than your kiss. No. Never. Just kissing your skin makes his heart ache. Just feeling your warmth is enough.

However, kissing your lips while breathing in your exhales, your moans, and your groans, that’s one way to live. If only he can exist with your air. If he can only kiss you every second of his life. If only.

When he parts from you, he feels your chasing lips as his. You two want so much more than a kiss. It’s not enough. It’s never enough.

Still, he must know what your surprise is. He needs it.

“A surprise, huh?” he murmurs, getting distracted by the flush on your cheeks. Wow. Just…wow. “Surprise for what?”

“I don’t need a reason to surprise my boyfriend.” Your nose scrunches, clearly and teasingly dissatisfied with his stupid question.

He can’t help but grab your cheeks, chuckling when you pout for good measure. When he caresses his thumbs over your skin, it makes you relax further into him. Your lips are red from the kiss. So plump. So wet from each other’s saliva. If he kisses you again, right now, he might end up just coming in his pants. Later. In a bit.

He coaxes, “What is it?”

You’ve hypnotized him when you drag your nail over his jaw and kiss along it. He can only cling to your waist. A whine left his lips when you let go. Where the fuck are you going? You can’t just leave him—

“Close your eyes,” you say, putting a halt to his thoughts. There’s that devilish gleam again, yet you add, “Please?”

You don’t need to say please. Quinn closes his eyes, immediately hearing the clatter of dishes and mugs being taken away. His hands curl into fists, turning irritated. You don’t need to clean up for him. He can do it, but he keeps his eyes closed, not wanting to betray your wishes. You are surprising him. He’ll be an idiot if he tries to sour the mood. But he dislikes it. If you’re going to do the dishes, he’ll do it with you. He doesn’t like not doing things with you, especially when it’s the regular season. He’s always away. It’s exhausting but you make it better.

One moment he’s horny. The next he’s acting pathetic.

“You’re overthinking, Quinn.” Your gentle voice hums, easing his troubled soul.

He feels and hears you sit down in front of him. On the coffee table. He fucking shivers when your feet brush the outside of his thighs. No blanket can mask your warmth, your touch. He can feel your eyes running all over him. His face. His neck. His hair. His chest. His cock. He really, really, really might fucking come.

He can hear your shaky inhale. You finally notice. Your voice turns higher, “Come closer.”

He does it. It’s more of moving the low table rather than scooting closer. Oh, the tiny squeak that you let out is adorable. You always forget that he’s strong. You’ve admitted that to him, that he looks small on ice, that he’s cute. He couldn’t blame you. He is just 5-foot-10 around people who are 6-feet and taller. You told him he looked like he wouldn’t be able to lift you. So, Quinn learned to remind you that he can lift you and more.

Now, his mind pesters with image of you against the wall, legs around his waist while he fucks you hard. That’s his favorite way to prove it—Can he fucking stop? Seriously?

He feels your touch over his shoulders, thumb rubbing into his muscles, up his neck, up his jaw. Soon, you have your forehead against his. Quinn’s trying to feel the table any clues about your surprise. So far, he hasn’t found any. He’s so curious. Just what is it?

“Open your eyes for me, handsome.”

Quinn does. He instantly gets mesmerized by your eyes, the eyelashes delicately framing them, your blinks. You’re just beautiful. He won’t have any complaints if this is your surprise. A simple eye-to-eye contact minute with you. Now that’s an amazing gift. Because now, he sees the details of your eyes—the darker and lighter specks of your color and the impossibly wide pupils.

“I love it,” he says with satisfaction.

You laugh, blushing so hard. “You’re silly.” You kiss the tip of his nose, taking his hands to plant it around your waist. “Look down…”

Again, he does. He gazes at every inch of you like he hasn’t. He can’t help but feel your breasts, thumb swirling over your nipples that were begging to be seen and touched and freed from your shirt. After hearing you moan and making your back arch into his touch, he moves on, smirking when you grumble about your need. Later.

He teases your skin, your navel. He’s so lost seeing how you tremble, hips slightly moving and trying to create friction. He bet you’re soaking through your pretty panties—

Quinn stills the moment he catches something on your skin. On your hipbone. What the fuck. What the fuck is that?

His heart hammers against his chest as he hooks a thumb into your shorts and tugs down.

Holy shit.

No matter how much he blinks it doesn’t change.

A tattoo. A fucking tattoo on your left hip.

‘QH43’, it says.

Quinn is literally felt his stomach flutter with fucking butterflies, thumb subbing over it, trying to see if it’s temporary, but it doesn’t have a shine nor does it crack.

He should be worried. It must’ve fucking hurt. It’s over a bone. He should shake you and ask if you got caught up in a dare. He should be livid you kept this from him. Tattoos are big decisions. You always confide in him for big decisions. You didn’t have this when he left for the road trip. It looks healed. He should’ve been with you and helped you take care of it. Damn it.

Yet, the more he looks at it, the more desire courses through his veins. It melts his worries.

It’s just ink in your skin. Ink in your blood. His fucking initials and numbers on you. Permanently. Forever.

QH43. Just four characters in a normal script. So simple yet it’s enough to get him all shaken up.

“Why?” He asks, taking a hand into his cock. He looks up to your eyes, except you aren’t looking at him. You’re staring at what he’s doing with a blush on your face like you haven’t seen him jerk off, haven’t seen his dick in your pussy. You’re cute.

“Because I want it.”

“It’s bad to have your boyfriend’s name tattooed on your person.” Quinn wants to smack himself for saying that, because he likes it.

“Good thing it’s his number.” You crossed your arms, smirking and unfazed. “Besides, my boyfriend will never leave me. He promised me all the time.”

“Yes. I will never leave you.” He nods, moaning when you put a hand over his cheek. “’m so turned on.”

“I can see that.” Your nails scratch over his jaw again.

He’s losing it. “Did it hurt?”

“It stung but not too much. Want help?”

Quinn shakes his head. He needs an initial relief. His hand will do. For now. He can’t help but preen as you snatch away the blanket. Sweat starts to bead on his skin as he nudges his pants down, tightly gripping and working his cock. Fuck.

“Wanna cum on it?” You ask, your voice shaking as you pant. You lean back, planting your hands on the table, spreading your thighs wide, showing him the wet patch over your thin shorts. You’re evil for that.

Quinn doesn’t know he can get any harder, but he does. Especially when he can basically smell you, taste you through it. He missed this so much. An ache forms in his chest for missing out, for not being with you.

“Is that safe?” Quinn moans, swiping a thumb over his slit, shivering as his pre-cum dribbles down his length. Totally forgetting how he was rubbing it a minute ago, he gasps, “Don’t want it to hurt.”

“It’s healed,” you reassure. “Ugh, I hate my panties. They’re so wet.”

See, you’re really complaining. The annoyance is clear on your face, but it’s cute as fuck. You shimmy your shorts and panties down, shivering when your arousal creates a string from the lace to your pussy. You still sit at the table, waiting for him to come on you.

“You’re killing me, my Love.” Quinn crawls up to his knees. “All wet for me?”

“Yeah.” Then you slide one hand over your pussy, parting it for him, making him see you quivering hole. “You really like my tattoo?”

Quinn can only nod. There’s a lump in his throat. He’s panting as he chases his relief. The way your pussy drip is getting to his head. Fuck, why is he still jerking off when your pussy is right there? He scoots closer, sliding his cock along your pussy. Both of you groan. You feel so good and he’s not even inside.

“Quinn,” you gulp, hands coming up his shoulder. “Maybe. You can jerk off later? I’m right here. I need you, handsome.”

He feels your pain and he feels the same. He presses his dick in your entrance. He warns, “I’m going to come soon.”

“Yes, please.”

Something snaps.

It’s his control.

You really know how to make him lose it. Those two fucking words. It might as well be a prophecy. He will listen and make it happen rather than wait for it to come true.

One smooth movement, he’s inside. His eyes nearly roll up as your pussy squeezes around him, seemingly determined to milk his cum out. By some miracle, he doesn’t come right away. He doesn’t it matters he did. He fucks you with urgency.

You feel divine. Your pussy. Your heated skin. Your arms that slot over his shoulders, urging him to fuck you faster. Your long nails dragging red stripes down his nape and back. Pain and pleasure sears down his soul.

“Quinn,” you call, tugging at his hair.

He moans your name like a prayer just for you. For his Love eternal. Fuck, he deeply loves you so much that it. More than anything in this world. You are the light of his life. Light, not a flame that would burn him. A light makes everything clear and visible. He’ll never get lost with you by his side. Lost in you, now, that’s a different topic.

He catches sight of a sweat dripping down from your temple, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, to your collarbones. He’s there, licking it up from its destination and up your jaw. Fuck, your taste—the saltiness, your scent on his tongue—is alluring.

Your moans mix with his, drowning out the buzz of the air-conditioning, the slight creaking of the coffee table, the ringing of his fucking phone. Who the fuck is calling him this early in the morning? It doesn’t matter. Not important right now. No.

Your hands cling to his arms, nails digging deep crescents into his skin. When his thumb circles your clit, he feels your pussy walls contract and pulse, making him come deep inside you. One spurt. Two. Three. Then he pulls out, so he spills right over your tattoo. You both pant, watching his cum make a mess on your skin, watching the cum dripping down your used pussy.

Your hand wraps around his cock, squeezing him fucking dry, making sure every drop is on your skin, your hips, and your thighs. He can’t help but gasp, forehead resting against yours.

He can’t believe he got you to come before him when he was so close to the edge.

So happy that you did.

So fucking ecstatic that he starts rubbing his cum into your skin, swiping its thickness into your damn tattoo, making sure it’s thoroughly coated. This is what you wanted. He also fucking wants it. His other hand travels to your pussy to push his cum back in. Your thighs quiver, shaking. Your moans and whines are loud and clear in his ears.

Fuck, he’s still so hard.

And you know it. How can you not? You’re holding him. It’s so evident that he’s ready for more.

You meet his eyes as you pant. Your lips are so red from being bitten. Quinn reaches up, taking his pushing his thumb slicked with his cum in your lips. When you immediately lick and suck on it, he can’t stop himself from grinding on your pussy. You’re just as greedy as him.

He loves that and he needs to fuck you again.

“Another?” he pleads.

“Yes,” you murmur, kissing his thumb. “Please.”

You don’t need to say anything else.

[fuzzandfeathers]

This comic takes place during Seeing Stars while Blitz and Stolas are on their way to the studio!

Hope you enjoyed! Mild art ranting below the cut 😂

I had to drag this piece kicking and screaming over the finish line. When I first got the idea and started working on it, I had a very different rendering approach I was experimenting with. I finished the entire comic in that style then immediately decided I hated it 😂 I liked the lines for the most part, but not enough to keep, so in the end I just... redrew the entire thing using the original as a reference (don't do what I do). And still this comic irks me. From a technical perspective I actually like it quite a bit; I'm satisfied with the way I drew Blitz and Stolas, at the very least. But in terms of what the comic evokes(?) I'm not not 100% happy with it (or even 90%). It's like a 'this art doesn't make me feel what I wanted it to make me feel' type of dissatisfaction, which is, unfortunately, kinda tough to resolve. I'm a big believer in embracing your failures (and in moving on when frustration is no longer serving you) so this was getting posted no matter how it turned out and eventually I'd run out of desire to work on it further. But I still wanted to let some of these feelings out because it's been awhile since art made me feel that way! And I think it's nice to let other people see the artist perspective sometimes even when it isn't totally positive. On the bright side, it was fun to experiment with a lot of things in this piece! Also this comic was actually finished weeks ago and I've already moved to a better place with my art. This kind of frustration is usually a precursor to growth anyways, so it's best to just be patient and ride it out 😌 Hope this little rant wasn't too much of a downer! The last thing I want is to take away people's enjoyment of the art by being too critical of myself <3 Here's a little peek at the original style! In retrospect, it actually wasn't that bad, I'm just more a fan of the starker, un-rendered look I eventually went with:

[twstedfreak]

Not Even the Gods Can Keep Me from You

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵pairing !! : Odysseus! Gojo Satoru x Penelope! Y/n

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵Summary !! : What is perseverance, if not love? What is strength, if not the will to return? Satoru Gojo was never meant to be a man of peace. A warrior crowned in legend, a king bound by duty, a man who challenged the will of gods themselves. He had conquered battlefields, torn through myths, and stood unshaken before death. Yet, for all his victories, there was only one war that truly mattered—getting back to you. Ten years of war. Ten years of wandering. And still, his heart only knew one home. You. Always you.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵contains !! : heavily! epic the musical inspired. heavy angst with eventual comfort. yearning. war themes. divine intervention. unwavering devotion. Gojo being dramatic as always. poetic prose slow-burn but inevitable love. a decade of suffering. a reunion worth every second of it. forced separation/longing. implied captivity (calypso arc). enough pining to make even the gods weep. Greek mythology elements.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵word count !! : 2,095 words

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵playlist !! : here

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵A/N !! : no beta reading we die like men. Okay, so hear me out! this idea grabbed me by the throat and refused to let go. I was just minding my business, vibing to EPIC: The Musical, and then suddenly my brain went, “What if Gojo Satoru was Odysseus?” And now I’m here, emotionally invested in a story where my baby is out here fighting gods, monsters, and curses all because he just wants to go home to you. Like, yes, he’s the untouchable but at the end of the day? He’s just Satoru. He’s fought wars, conquered empires, and defied death itself—but nothing, nothing compares to the battle of getting back to you. If that’s not peak romance, I don’t know what is. jkjk let’s be real, Gojo is exactly the kind of person to get cursed by the gods and just laugh in their faces. Zeus could strike him down and he’d be like, "Damn, that’s all you got?" And then proceed to survive out of sheer spite. ANYWAYS. This is just the beginning because, of course, I couldn’t stop at just one headcanon. This is a whole series now. I am deep in the trenches of this story, and I plan on taking you all down with me. If you want to be tagged for future parts, drop a comment! I love you all so much—thank you for the support, the reactions, and for indulging my unhinged brain 🫶💙

Odyssey? More Like Gojo-ssey. Now, let’s watch Gojo Satoru try (and probably suffer dramatically) to get home.  😌✨

⇢ read on ao3 here !!

Odysseus! Satoru who was never meant to be a man of peace. From the moment he first gripped a sword, fate carved his path in blood and war. He was the strongest, the untouchable, the king who could not fall.

Odysseus! Satoru who was never meant to stay in one place. His soul was made of storms, his heart set to the rhythm of conquest. 

Odysseus! Satoru who was the strongest warrior, the sharpest mind, the man who could bend the world to his will. But for all his power, truly one thing he longed for. Home. However, home had never been a place. Home was you.

Odysseus! Satoru who had never feared the gods, not even when they whispered warnings of fate and ruin. He laughed in the face of destiny, dared to challenge the will of Olympus itself. He mocked them, defied them, dared them to strike him down. But the moment he met you, the moment he saw a future beyond war in your eyes, he knew he had something far more terrifying than divine wrath—something to lose. The moment he took your hand, the moment he called you his wife, he realized that strength was not in defying the gods, it was in having something worth defying them for.

Odysseus! Satoru, who was not a patient man, but love, had taught him patience. This man fell in love like a storm crashing against the shore. sudden, unstoppable, inevitable. You were not just another prize, another conquest. You were the one who saw him, saw past the whispers, saw past the power, saw past the arrogance that kept the world at a distance. As in return, he swore to be yours in a way he never truly belonged to anyone else. In this lifetime and futures to come. 

Odysseus! Satoru who would sit in the gardens with you, listening to the way you spoke, memorizing every shift in your expression, every lilt in your voice. He who had faced death countless times, but nothing unnerved him more than the way you could bring him down to his knees with a just a single look. The strongest man in the world, utterly undone by you.

Odysseus! Satoru who was a force of nature in battle, and yet, he was the softest thing when he was with you. He could split mountains with a strike, command armies with a word, yet he would abandon it all just to press a kiss to your temple in the quiet hours of the night. The world could call him untouchable, unstoppable—but you had always known the truth. He was only human in your arms.

Odysseus! Satoru who swore he would never leave you. He never wanted to leave you. But war does not care for love, and kings do not get to choose their fate. When duty called him to Troy, he kissed you one last time and vowed, “I’ll come back to you, my love.” A promise whispered against your skin, a prayer uttered to gods he never truly believed in, but for you, he prayed. But war does not wait for love, and kings do not get to choose peace. The moment he stepped onto that ship, the moment he sailed toward a war he had no choice but to fight, he made a silent promise.

Odysseus! Satoru would come back. No matter the cost.

Odysseus! Satoru who had faced monsters before, but nothing compared to the beasts that awaited him on his journey home. The sea churned with curses, the land crawled with creatures that wanted nothing more than to tear him apart. But he did not waver. He did not fear. Because what was pain, what was suffering, if it meant holding you again? And so, he fought through curses, blood, and suffering, but the only thing stronger than the wrath of the gods was his will to get back to you.

Odysseus! Satoru who had never known helplessness. He was a man who bent the world to his will, who carved his own fate with bloodied hands and an indomitable heart. He had faced gods and monsters, defied curses and storms, and laughed in the face of death itself. But for seven years, he was caged. Seven years stolen from his hands, wasted in the embrace of a goddess who was not you.

Odysseus! Satoru, who had washed up on her shores broken along with his wrecked ship, his men lost, his body battered by the sea’s wrath. She found him like that, defeated in a way he had never been before, and she took him in. Nursed his wounds. Promised him peace. Promised him eternity. However, eternity meant nothing if you were not in it.

Odysseus! Satoru who was worshipped as a god on that island. She adorned him in silk, kissed the battle scars on his skin, whispers of forever in his ear. She called him hers. She swore to love him, to keep him, to give him a kingdom untouched by war and pain.

However, Odysseus! Satoru who was already yours. No matter how soft the sheets, how gentle the hands that held him, the weight of you never left him. Your absence clawed at his chest, a dull, aching wound that never healed. He was fed the sweetest fruits, given the finest wines, and yet, everything tasted bitter.

Because you were waiting. Because he had sworn to come back. Because seven years was too long to be away from home.

Odysseus! Satoru who was given the choice to stay. to be immortal, to be unburdened, to be worshipped as he had been all his life. But gods, if there was one thing he had learned after all these years, it was that peace was nothing without you. So he demanded to leave. He raged against the walls of paradise, cursed the heavens, swore that nothing, not gods, not time, not fate itself, would keep him from you.

And in the end, the gods relented. the moment he stepped back onto the sea, the moment the wind carried his ship forward once more, he whispered a vow “I’m coming back to you, my love.”

Odysseus! Satoru who after 10 yeras of war and 10 years of isolation in a gilded cage. After all the temptation, after all the stolen time. Nothing had changed. You were still his home and he was still yours.Odysseus! Satoru had always been told that the greatest glory was in war. That men like him were meant to be remembered for their victories, for the blood they spilled, for the kingdoms they claimed. But as he carved his way through gods and monsters, as he fought tooth and nail to return to you, he realized—glory was meaningless if you were not there to share it.  He was a man who had something worth fighting for. Each island, each battle, each moment of agony was a step closer to you. 

Odysseus! Satoru who would fight for eternity if it meant getting back to you. Because the world could take his crown, his titles, his power—but they would never take his love for you. He knew that time would change things. That Ithaca would move on, that suitors would circle you like vultures, that the world might convince you to forget him. But he never doubted you. Not once. Because if there was one thing in this world stronger than him, stronger than war, stronger than the gods. it was your love.

Gojo Satoru was a man of great renown. A warrior who had never lost, a king who stood above all, a force so untouchable that even the gods whispered his name with caution. He was myth and legend, conqueror and survivor, the man who had defied death itself. And yet, in your eyes he was just Satoru. Not a king. Not a warrior. Not a name etched into history. Just a man. A man who laughed too loudly at his own jokes, a man who pressed kisses to your temple when no one was looking, a man who smirked like a child when he won an argument. A man who made himself at home beside you, tangled in linen sheets and lazy mornings, whispering secrets only meant for your ears. The world called him untouchable. You knew better. You knew the warmth of his hands, the softness of his voice when he murmured your name in the quiet of the night. You knew the weight of his heart, the way he carried the burden of war, of loss, of the endless battle between duty and desire. You knew the boy beneath the legend, the fool who fell in love like it was the only battle worth losing. And he had lost. To you. Because for all his victories, for all his power, the greatest thing he had ever done was love you. Not war, not glory, not the sea of men he had left in ruin. You. Always you. It had taken years, lifetimes, an odyssey of gods and monsters and curses. In the end, he had won the only war that ever truly mattered. Because after everything, after all the pain, after all the years stolen from him. He came home and when he looked at you, and you looked at him, he knew. You had never stopped waiting.

The moment he stepped across the threshold, the weight of a decade settled onto his shoulders. The war, the gods, the monsters—all of it had been nothing compared to the torment of being away from you. And now, as he stood before you, a man worn down by time and trials, he found himself breathless.

You stared at him, silent, unmoving. As if blinking would make him disappear. As if you had seen him in your dreams so often that you weren’t sure if this was another cruel trick.

“Satoru…” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it shattered something inside him.

He inhaled sharply, as if he had been holding his breath for years. Maybe he had. “I’m home.”

A silence stretched between you. It wasn’t empty. it was full. Full of lost time, of unspoken words, of all the things the universe had tried to take away.

Your fingers twitched at your side, hesitant, trembling, before you reached out. The moment your hand brushed against his face, tracing the lines that time had carved into his skin, something in him broke. He leaned into your touch as if it was the first warmth he had felt in years. His hands found your waist, hesitant at first, as if he feared you would disappear. But when you didn’t, when you only gripped him tighter, his restraint crumbled. He pulled you against him, arms wrapping around you so tightly it was almost desperate.

"You took your time," you murmured against his chest, voice thick with something between relief and sorrow.

He huffed a quiet laugh, though it was weak, exhausted. “I had to make it dramatic.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers curling into his tunic. There were so many questions, so many things you wanted to say. But in the end, you only whispered, “This time… will you stay?”

His grip on you tightened. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

You let out a breathless, a broken soundhalf a laugh, half a sob. “You idiot… You think after all this time I’d want anyone else?”

Satoru gave a smirk, but his voice was quiet, almost fragile. “I don’t know… figured you might’ve realized I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

You shook your head, a real, genuine smile breaking through the tears in your eyes. “You always were.” Your hand found the back of his neck, fingers threading through his silver hair like a lifeline. “But you’re my trouble.”

Satoru swallowed hard, his thumb brushing against your cheek as if memorizing you all over again. “And you’re my home.”

A sob escaped before you could stop it, and that was all it took for him to press his forehead against yours, closing the last remaining distance.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “No more wars. No more running. No more losing time.” His voice softened, turning into a promise. “Just us.”

Your fingers curled tighter around him. “Just us.”

The words settled between you like an unshaken vow. And for the first time in forever, there were no battles left to fight.

No gods to defy.

No time to lose.

Only him. Only you.

Only home.

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[writingwisterias]

I was daydreaming today at college and thought about Leon absolutely ravaging me in my wedding dress... Would you be able to write the reader teasing him at the wedding all evening long, feeling him up, making him jealous until the end of the night when he finally gets you alone and just goes totally feral?! Your work is amazing, please never stop 🥰😌😵‍💫💦

YES, I CAN ANON!

I love this!!! I hope I did the idea justice! I did Death Island Leon because I rewatched it and he's on my mind. I rambled sorry this took so long, I needed it to be done right!

Warnings: Smut, MNDI, Fluff, Teasing, Praise Kink, Cowgirl, Oral (F receiving) Jealousy, Hidden touches, Comfort

Death Island! Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

Words: 3.8k

Leon never thought he would get this chance, marriage was always just a distant dream, one that always seemed impossible with his job and lifestyle. Until you came along and made him feel easy to love for once. Your smile manages to brighten any mood he might be in. His home was dark and bare now filled with warmth and love, decorated with things that reminded him of how far you had both become. He made it his life's mission to ensure you never stopped smiling and never faced anything like he had. Your protection was his top priority as he kept you separate from his work life, a little hidden secret in this world. One for just him to enjoy.

The isle was decorated in soft greens and browns, the sun felt warm for once as it fell over his features. It felt like God was finally giving him a break from the whirlpool of life he was handed. He couldn't stop the swaying of his feet or fiddling with the tie that felt too tight around his neck. Neither of you wanted a big wedding, limiting your guest list to just close friends and family but the room still felt full. Despite the small number of people you had invited, their adoring stares at him and their whispers about what you might look like today didn't help. Leon didn’t care what dress you picked out, he gave you the budget to get the biggest one if you wanted it. All that mattered to him was that you were happy and at the end of the day were with him in an enteral promise. One he knew went deeper than simple love. 

Ignoring the waves of anxiety he felt, all the attention began to feel too much without you by his side to make it more bearable. Leon made sure to put on the biggest smile that he could muster up as he watched the wedding party begin to filter through the aisle. Soft instrumental music complimented them as they all walked down. The once red carpet is now being decorated with a range of petals as your niece went down alongside her brother who carried the rings. Everyone’s attention was drawn to them, their adorable stumbles thankfully gave him a chance to let out a shaky breath before he had to reach for the velvet box from the young boy. It felt heavy, similar to the feeling when he had the last velvet box in his pocket; a decision he would never come to regret in his life. He had thought about this moment for months, his dreams being filled by adding to the collection of rings he had given to you, all in a romantic promise that was tying your souls together forever.

Leon had memorized the order in which everyone was going to be coming through, all of them finding their place on the respected sides. Their smiles warmed his heart at how happy they were for the both of you. The love crashed over him in waves as your family welcomed him in with open arms. The change in song made his heart rate begin to pick up as you walked down. You looked like an angel, one that was finally ready to take him to salvation - a gift sent from the heavens for all of his hard work and trauma. You smiled at Leon, watching as his eyes twinkled with tears of happiness. He deserved this; there was no one more than deserving of your love. Your answer to his proposal was the easiest choice you had ever made. Just as you were for Leon he was the same for you. 

You could feel his hands shake as he lifted your veil, the sound of everyone around you melting away as he gazed upon your features like he was memorising them despite knowing that he does it every time he wakes up before you in the morning. You watched as his smile grew softer, his body trying to reign in his emotions as the tears fell slightly down his face. You felt the ghost of his breath against your palm as you wiped it away for him. Your touch is just a ghost of the love he knew you had for him. His love was always intoxicating to you. Helping your brain become fuzzy so you forget about the world around you. The nerves you had at the start of the day are now settled in a calm and peaceful feeling. That's what you loved about him, his endless ability to ease your anxiety. He was your bridge, your stable wall to lean on if you needed it. Leon had given you everything you needed and more in life; you will always be thankful for that. 

Your hands slotted in his perfectly; Leon was grasping them tightly in case you would fade away right in front of him like you were some dream he would wake up from. The vows you shared today would never be broken; the endless devotion you both shared was witnessed by everyone else in the room. “I love you” You whispered to him leaning on his shoulder as you both waited for the end of the ceremony. Leon glanced down at you, his eyes sparkling with more unshed tears, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “I love you more” 

It felt like the world stopped as you turned to face each other before you finally kissed marking your new journey as Mr and Mrs Kennedy. Neither of you needed this, the large fancy wedding or the certificate you were now both signing with shaky hands and large smiles. You both know the love you shared was solidified with the care you put towards each other in each other darkest moments. There was no end to this life without Leon being by your side.

You grasped his hand tightly as you both ran down the aisle, your laughter filling the air mixing in with the confetti that fell around you. Leon pulled you back into him, greedy for another kiss before the true celebrations began, the fabric of your dress swirling around his feet as you collided with him. 

The rest of the evening felt like a blur, the both of you being dragged around by family and friends for endless photos. The camera flash soon became a permanent fixture every time you blinked. Yet, as everyone settled down for the evening meal, plates of food were being wafted around the room and the waitresses handed them out; Leon didn’t miss the longing looks you gave him. The squeezes of his thigh underneath the table as your hand inched higher and higher. Your delicate fingers brushed along the front of his trousers all whilst glancing at him with an adoring and innocent smile. It was driving him insane with how casual you were being about it. “You alright there honey? You look a little flustered” you giggled in his ear, leaning towards him. His smirk grew on his face, his eyes hidden by his dark hair as he turned to look at you. “Someone seems to be starting something I’m not sure they can finish” He teased. Normally Leon would have touched your skin and teased the fabric of your underwear groaning at the feel of the arousal he knew was drenching the thin fabric but your damn dress was too big. He was beaten by layers of white fabric. 

“We’ve still got many hours before I can show you what's underneath this dress” you whispered again. His face flushed - turning a dark pink as his brain tried to decipher what you meant. To his credit he recovered quickly, hiding his flushed cheeks from the guests with a kiss. Coos and chuckles surrounded you as you both shared this moment. When he pulled away his eyes narrowed, a warning. That if you continued then you would be in for a long night, but then when did you ever listen to him?

The night continued with tear-jerking speeches from close family and friends and you now both stood outside the doors waiting for the events organizer to announce you both as Mr and Mrs Kennedy for your first dance. His hand held yours firmly, almost like if he loosened his grip he would wake up from this dream. 

“Ready?” You asked him, looking up at his stubble-coated face in adoration. He never got used to your twinkling eyes when you looked at him, perhaps he never would. He didn't need the three words that meant so much to many people - your eyes told your story, your feelings. “To embarrass me with how badly I dance…no” he teased a toothy grin filling his features. Your laugh was better music than the song lined up for the rest of the evening. His own eyes crinkled once again as his smile grew. You heard your name announced and both jogged out onto the dance floor.. confetti and cheers surround you once again. 

Leon's hands gripped your hips tightly as they swirled you around, opting to stick to simple swaying and a few spins. You didn't care, you were smiling anyway. That was another thing you did that caused him to fall in love with you - how easily you accepted the simplest things he gave you. The size of his gestures is never an issue with you. When the song slowed down he bought you closer, his hands lowering to the swell of your ass. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers toying with the soft strands of his hair. His aftershave was intoxicating, filling your senses as you tucked yourself closer, his head resting on yours. The moment was peaceful, perfect. One he would remember every time a mission got too much, or he needed a reason to get back up after he's been slammed down numerous amounts of times. 

The moment was broken when one of the bridesmaids tapped him on the shoulder holding out a polaroid to him. He glanced briefly at you not failing to notice the large grin on your face. It was comical how wide his eyes went when he looked at the small picture; a choked breath following as his cheeks flushed. “What the fuck” he chuckled as he turned back to you, tucking away the Polaroid in his pocket before anyone else got to see. “There's plenty more where that came from” you spoke. Leon pulled you close again, trapping you against his body with a large grin on his features as his lips ghosted your skin. “You little minx” he whispered in your ear, his breath tickling the shell of yours. You smiled at the contact, at the small graze of his lips against your neck. Your fingers tugged gently at the hairs on the nape of his neck, swirling the soft strands in small circles. He felt you slip away leaving his arms to merge in with the rest of the dancefloor. Your white dress twirled around you as you greeted your friends. He watched with a smile, seeing your happiness leak into the people around you…into himself. 

Your feet moved gracefully along the dancefloor as you sauntered back to him often during the rest of the night. Interrupting and saving him from boring conversations with older relatives, your lips kissing in the pattern he knew would be repeated later when you were both alone. The collection of polaroids started to thicken his pockets as your bridesmaids continued to hand them to him, his face flushing each time - eyes narrowing as he found you giggling across the room from him. He was thankful as people started to wish you luck and goodnight, all heading off to their rooms. Instantly beginning to look for you to drag you to the bridal room. Leon found you helping the servers gather the remaining drinks handing them glasses over to the bar. Your hair was wild, strands sticking out of the braid it was neatly made into earlier in the day. Your makeup was smudged and the lipstick is virtually nonexistent but to him, you still looked just as beautiful at the start of the day. 

He felt giddy as you both stumbled your way back to the room, practically running through the halls. Your smile grew as you heard his laugh, the sound bouncing down the corridor. His hand held onto yours firmly not once letting go. It felt like you were teenagers again, running through the school corridors to escape school. You wished you had met him sooner in life, so you could have loved him sooner. Helped through the horrors he had told you, showed him a world of love and affection sooner before he fell into the habits he wasn't proud of.  His lips attacked yours as soon as you got through the door, the key card discarded on the desk landing on it with a clatter. Your hands slid under the shoulders of his blazer. Leon smiled into the kiss, his shoulders shaking it off in a poor attempt to help, the fabric landing with a thud on the floor. 

The contents of it scattered along the floor, his phone now hidden somewhere you'll both be scrambling to find in the morning. He smirked at the Polaroids that had now scattered everywhere, the photos of you that he kept hidden now a reminder of your promise. He felt his cock throbbing against the fabric of his trousers, he almost cummed at the idea of sinking into you finally after today. He pulled you towards the bed, pushing you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed. Leon wished he hadn’t just lost his phone so he could have taken a photo of you sprawled out on the bed beneath him surrounded by the rose petals the hotel staff had thrown on the bed. Your eyes were intense as they looked at him with pure lust, you always did love him in his suits. 

“You have a promise to keep?” He teased, bending down briefly to collect a polaroid off the floor - holding it out to you so you could see throwing it on the bed next to you. His hands began to push the layers of fabric up your legs, exposing your hips. He smiled at the garter that was still around your thigh. Leon’s head instantly lowered, his teeth tugging it down your leg, ignoring the chuckle that left your lips as he struggled to get it over your shoe. When he raised his head again you smiled at his smug look, the elastic band hanging from his teeth like a trophy. 

“You were meant to do that earlier and then see which one of your friends was getting married next” You smiled as you pulled it from his teeth, discarding the fabric somewhere else in the room. “Guess I’ll just have to marry you again” He spoke, kissing up your thighs disappearing amongst the fabric. “Already? We just made our vows” 

Leon’s head shot up again his hair falling over his eyes as he looked at you. “I’ll chant them to you every night if I have to. I’ll never forget them, nor will I let you forget them.” 

You knew if you wanted him to he would always be willing to do what it takes to prove he is forever grateful for your unwavering love and patience over the past few years. The same soft hands that now tugged his head towards your dripping cunt pulling him out of one of the worst states he’s ever been in. He didn’t like thinking about what would have happened if you hadn’t given him the final shove to pour the drink away. To stop for the first time since his 20s. His fingers looped in the waistband of the white lacy thong pulling it down your legs. You spread them, showing off your soaked core that he had skipped the cake for. Opting to save his appetite for a sweeter dessert instead. 

“I meant every single word” 

His mouth instantly latched on, sucking up the sweet arousal you were already dripping for him. Your legs wrapped tightly around his head, the fabric hiding him from sight as he worked his magic. Leon would spend hours like this if he wanted to, his head buried in a sacred space you kept so perfect for him. Forever - until death - now the only person that would be able to taste the sweet drink you created for him. Your legs shook as his tongue flicked against the sensitive bud, his nose occasionally brushing against it as he enthusiastically licked long stripes up your folds. 

You felt the incoming orgasm, your thighs shaking uncontrollably around his head only spurring Leon on to continue his assault of pleasure faster. He groaned when you finally spilt on his tongue, he lapped it up like he was dehydrated. You supposed he was, with the incoming date of your wedding you both barely had enough time for this. You moaned at the sight of his chin covered in his drool and your cum, his tongue swiping across his lips making sure he lapped it all up. He always was a messy eater. 

You could taste yourself on his as he crawled up to place a kiss on your lips. “How expensive was the dress?” he asked whilst nipping at your neck. His stubble was prickly against your skin. “Very. You gave me no budget remember” You chuckled, pulling at his hair causing him to look at you. “So if I fucked you in it, it would be a waste of money?” 

“We can always get it dry cleaned” 

He chuckled pulling away from you again. He was too slow at unbuttoning his shirt, you sat up, crawling towards the edge of the bed on shaking legs to help him. The fabric was discarded somewhere in the room with a thud. His hands worked on his trousers, his belt clinking loudly as they fell to the floor. You bit your lip at the sight of his pre cum on his boxers, both old and new stains. “Look at what you did to me all day, in this dress, the touches at dinner, the fucking photos. The day dragged on for far too long” He mumbled lowly. You loved it when he did this when his octave lowered with need and frustration for wanting you. Your teasing finally pushed him over the edge and now he had a taste there was no point in preventing him from the full meal. He was going to get it anyway. 

You stood up from the bed, spinning the both of you so he fell against the soft sheets. He waited for you to undo the dress, to let the fabric hide his trousers. Instead to crawled above him, pushing him towards the headboard. Leon pulled his boxers off, his cock thumping against his stomach at your approach. You smirked at the tip, angry and red as it waited for you. Dribbles of pre cum decorating it like candle wax, he was always so pretty.

 A large sigh from the both of you filled the room as you finally sank on him. The sight is hidden by the layers of the dress now pooling around you both. He could admire the way the bodice fit against your form, the delicate lace hems making you look even more magical. You were perfect, always were and always will be. 

Your hips moved too slow for his liking, the pleasure he needed not building up fast enough. Tired of your teasing his hips met your own. The lazy thrusts hit deeper and deeper as they collided with your own, brushing against the entrance of your cervix. He was always larger than you remembered, no amount of foreplay ever prepared you for the glorious stretch he gave you each time you fucked. His small whisps of hair tease your already sensitive clit. 

He could feel you quiver above him, your head thrown back with a large smile plastered on your face. He watched the rise and fall of your chest as it pushed out the breathless whimpers. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, the freshly painted nails leaving small crescent shapes along his already uneven skin. He wouldn’t mind a few more scars, not if they were left by you tonight. A forever memory etched onto his skin as well as in his mind. 

Had all his prayers finally been answered? All of his years of suffering finally bought to a close with the clench of your walls around his cock and a promise to love him until he gave his final breath. “I fucking love you, Mrs Kennedy” 

Hearing it made it more real somehow, made the whole day finish with another orgasm from you as you collapsed against him. Your sweaty skin cooling his down. He was so close, to his own ending. To coat and fill you with himself, the way it will always be now. Leon was now the only one who got this pleasure, that was allowed to do this. 

He was quick to move you, slipping out only briefly to place you on all fours. His cock slipped back into you; “I…will…always…fucking…love…you” he chanted with each thrust. Driving his cock deep into the velvet walls. Your whimpers and whines spur him on along with the begs to go faster and harder. The two of you lost in the moment, in the feel of each other. His ring was cool against your hip as it pressed into the flesh from his grip. Your dress rustles around you with every movement. Nothing else mattered, not the endless piles of paperwork on his desk waiting for him when he would return to the office, the complaints of customers you would eventually face in your own return to work. 

Everything could wait. Nothing would stop him from feeling this, the way you clenched and sucked him back in again. Trapped him in as he finally climaxed. His warmth flooded you, leaking out as he pulled away. Your shaking legs finally gave up as you fell onto the bed. A smile plastered on your face from where it was smooshed against the pillows. His fingers worked on undoing the back of the dress, your skin exposed to the cold. Fuck, he needed this sight engraved into his brain forever. You sat up, allowing the fabric to slip off your form with his help. The dress left to crease and crumple on the floor as you both tucked away in bed. 

He held you tightly against his chest, his heartbeat thumping loudly against your ear. Despite the great sex, this was what you cared about the most, the vulnerable moments where you slept the best. “Goodnight love” He whispered into your hair as he pressed a kiss into the crown of your head. You smiled against his skin, placing a kiss above the spot of his heart. Your fingers lazily traced along the scars that littered his chest until the room was filled with the soft snores of the newly weds.