#someone please write this i'm not good enough

[bruhstories]

Bet I

p.2?

summary: in-ho got a cat, and he needs a cat sitter while he is away on his business trip. who knew that meeting you would turn into a bet, a philosophy of what is moral and what is not?

pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader

warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader's background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, few mentions of Y/N (again, for plot purposes), pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent

w/c: 2.2k

a/n: i have no idea how many chapters this will have, but i'm trying to write each chapter for each day of the games. it'll all make sense at the end lol. i tried to do as much research about seoul and south korea in general, so please be gentle! i'm just an eastern european gal

tagging: @full-sunnies @xodilfluvr

In-ho got a cat — a green-eyed, silver-tipped Korat he named Eunjoo. He thought about getting a dog, but dogs were high-maintenance, loyal and loving, and his job didn't allow him a loving pet. It didn't allow him to get attached to humans or animals. But Eunjoo was aloof and independent, and only rubbed against his leg when she wanted food. She refused to be handled and rarely played with the toys In-ho got her, but the cat was a necessary soul in his empty penthouse. It still wasn't enough to fill the hole in his blackened heart, but it was better than coming home to nothing and no one.

Trouble came when In-ho had to leave for eight days for the 32nd Squid Game. He quite obviously couldn't bring Eunjoo with him, and he couldn't let her starve, either. Not only that, but her litter boxes had to be cleaned regularly, and she needed fresh water daily, which left him with only one option — getting a cat sitter, as stupid as that sounded. In-ho felt ridiculous typing the post on a website for dog-walkers and pet sitters, but he did it nonetheless.

Businessman going on an eight day trip. In need of an experienced person to do home visits twice a day for my Eunjoo. 30,000 won per day. Based in Gangnam-gu, Seoul. 

He attached a picture of the cat along with his email, and waited. There was enough time to select a sitter before he left, and he browsed several profiles of pet sitters. Most of them had fantastic reviews, but asked for more money. Typical, In-ho thought. How typical for people to ask for more than necessary. It wasn't as though he wasn't willing to pay more — he had enough money, and would gladly spend it on Eunjoo — but it was the greed that disgusted him. The audacity to ask for 70,000 won a day to feed a cat and change her water was insane.

In-ho closed his laptop and left it on his coffee table in the living room, then walked into the kitchen to feed Eunjoo. She came from her hideout at the sound of a can opening, cautious of her surroundings, then rubbed her head against In-ho's leg, patiently waiting for her food. The cat didn't immediately eat. Instead, Eunjoo waited for her owner to sit down and have his dinner, and the corners of his mouth turned into a half-smile. Better than most people, In-ho thought. She wasn't greedy, she was understanding in ways some humans couldn't be. And so, he reheated yesterday's bulgogi and sat down with a side of freshly cooked rice. Only then did Eunjoo eat her dinner, checking on him from time to time to make sure he was also eating.

Ding!

His phone lit up with a notification. In-ho unlocked it and opened the email he had just received from a pet sitter.

Good evening, sir! My name is Y/L/N Y/N and I would like to meet Eunjoo. I live in Guryong Village and can take the bus to Gangnam-gu whenever you need me to, as I am quite flexible with my schedule, but I need to be completely transparent with you. I've only taken care of my cousin's cat over summer, so I am not the experienced sitter you are looking for, but I am asking you to please give me a chance. Have a good evening!

In-ho scoffed at the words on his screen. He was specifically looking for someone with experience, but he appreciated the honesty. It was a rare trait nowadays, and he was a fair man who gave everyone equal chances. It was the root of his job, after all.

Tomorrow morning, 9 o'clock, Bongeunsa-ro 103-gil, across the street from Shinhan Bank. I'll pick you up from downstairs. Don't be late.

The clack of your heels irked you as you hurried down the street from the bus stop to the address provided by the cat owner. It was a sound you weren't used to, but you needed to make a good impression when lacking experience. People all around you were dressed in expensive suits and dresses, clothes you could only dream of wearing, and the cars that swerved across your path, nearly running you over, looked like they cost as much as your house. It wasn't the first time you walked around Gangnam-gu, but it was the first time you spent more than five minutes surrounded by people who lived lavishly while you survived on Samyang Hot Chicken Ramen Stew.

And yet, you wouldn't trade your instant noodles for samgyeopsal or bossam if it meant selling your soul. Because that was the price to pay for riches and luxury, wasn't it? No, you would make ends meet somehow and live an honest life without becoming a coldhearted monster, just like your father taught you.

You checked that the address in the email matched your location, and waited for someone to talk to you, unsure how they would even recognise you. Although, on second thought, the thin, flimsy cotton of your dress and loose threads around the hem were a dead giveaway that you didn't belong in Gangnam-gu. You didn’t belong amongst the rich.

"Excuse me, Miss Y/L/N?"

Turning on your heels, you were met by the darkest eyes you had ever seen, eyes that looked as though they had both witnessed and committed unspeakable atrocities. And yet, there was a strange remorse in them. The man looked around 45 years old but not a single gray hair on his head, which was ironic, because you probably had more white strands hidden in your locks. Your gaze darted down at his extended hand, and you shook it while bowing down as a sign of respect. 

"You must be Mr. Hwang. I can't thank you enough for agreeing to meet with me. I promise I won't let you down if you give me a chance!"

Oh, you were a talker. In-ho had met your kind before, aimlessly sleepwalking through life, serving no greater purpose except for entertaining those who rid the world of gamblers, addicts, beggars and thieves. Not that you were in any of those categories — In-ho didn't know you that well yet — but the way you presented yourself made him think you would have made a suitable player in the game.It was too late to recruit you now. Perhaps next year, if you made it that far.

You followed Mr. Hwang into the elevator, surprised that it wasn't stopping until reaching the last floor of the building, and when the doors opened, they revealed a small hallway with just one apartment. He had no neighbours above or around him, and you couldn’t begin to imagine how lonely it must've been. Surely his wife or girlfriend kept him company, or perhaps he had children — In-ho did look old enough to be your father.

He unlocked the multiple locks on his door — he must have been really rich — and invited you in. For a moment, a split second, you wondered if you had made a mistake coming there. The man could be a serial killer for all you knew, and with almost no neighbours, who would even hear you scream? You heard stories about wealthy people who took pleasure in hurting others. The lack of pictures of a wife or children only strengthened that doubt, but the intrusive thought soon dissipated when, from the corner of your eye, you spotted a silver tail hanging from a dining chair. 

Paying no mind to the tall double fridge, or the black U shaped velvet sofa that could fit your entire extended family, or even the view from his floor-to-ceiling windows, you kicked off the uncomfortable heels and got down on all fours, crawling closer to Eunjoo before sitting on the tiled floor with your legs crossed. It caught In-ho completely off guard — unpredictability was something that bothered him. Usually when he brought girls over they would bombard him with a million questions about his job, his car, his clothes, his bank account. You didn't, and it both infuriated and intrigued him. But then again, he brought you there with a different purpose.

"What are you doing exactly?" In-ho circled around you like a hawk, watching you intently. 

"I've read that it's better to allow cats to familiarise themselves with people instead of forcing affection onto them." You sat still, chin tilted upwards to look at him with innocence in your eyes. "I may not be experienced, sir, but I did my research."

He wasn't particularly impressed by your research skills, not even when Eunjoo jumped from the chair and walked around you, curious yet apprehensive. One paw hovered above the floor in mid-air, and her tail was lowered, almost touching the ground, as the cat slowly and cautiously approached you, sniffing the hand you extended. 

"So, what do you do for a living?" You broke the spell, not on Eunjoo but on In-ho, who was watching you try to befriend his cat. He hadn't realised he had been staring for longer than he should have until you spoke with disinterest in your voice. You didn't really care what his job was.

"Business." He simply said and you chuckled at his response. "Something funny?"

"I'm sorry, I just thought it would be nice to make small talk while we wait for Eunjoo to get comfortable." You shrugged. "But it's fine if you don't want to talk about that, sir."

Sir. It sounded so different coming from you and not one of his subordinates at the facility. In-ho quietly pulled a chair from under the table and sat down, but Eunjoo had finished inspecting you. She lifted her tail, the tip curled — a sign of playfulness — and you scratched her chin.

"Good girl, Eunjoo! I'm sorry, I don't have any treats." You sat up after the cat lost interest in you and hid behind the sofa.

"So you're inexperienced and unprepared." His voice was cold and judgemental and you lowered your head in shame.

"I'm really sorry, sir. I don't have a great financial situation, that's why I need this job. I can water plants and clean the house, I can even do your laundry and iron your shirts, and I don't want any extra money, just the payment for cat sitting." You sounded so desperate it was pathetic. "Please."

The last bit of your sentence was what caught In-ho's attention. No extra money? Who in their right minds wouldn’t charge more for additional services? Were you planning on stealing from him while he was away? Not that it mattered — he'd find you and kill you upon his return from the island if you did. However, he found it to be an interesting game, a bet of sorts. You would win if you were honest for all eight days. He would win if you stole from him and abused his kindness.

"You're hired." In-ho nodded, the look of surprise mixed with gratitude on your face making him feel like some sort of god.

"I swear you won't be disappointed in me, sir. I'll leave the house spotless every day, and I will take good care of Eunjoo!" You nodded eagerly, beaming at him.

"I know you will. She takes breakfast at 7 and dinner at 9, and there is an automatic feeder set at 2 pm for lunch." He explained and you took your phone out to quickly take notes. "Make sure you change her water in the morning and at night, and scoop her litter boxes every time you're here."

"...scoop the poop twice a day. Got it." You mumbled while typing. "Do I give her wet food in the mornings and evenings?"

"Yes, and please check that the automatic feeder is stocked. You will find all her cans and kibble in this cupboard." In-ho walked into the kitchen and showed you where Eunjoo's food was. There was more cat food in that cupboard than you had in your house.

"Perfect. Where is the bin room located?"

"Underground. The code is 456654."

"Thank you, Mr. Hwang! I won't let you down. Oh, I should give you my phone number, right?" You asked, feeling a bit awkward for being so straightforward. 

"Whatever would I need your number for?" He almost laughed. 

"How else would you see Eunjoo?"

"Right. Forgot about that." In-ho scratched the back of his head. He couldn't exactly tell you that there were cameras everywhere in his house.

"Two more questions. Am I allowed to play music or movies on your TV and could I take a shower after cleaning? I'm bringing spare clothes and my own towel and soap."

"Yes, of course you can. Please help yourself to anything you need. I trust you'll figure out how the coffee machine or dishwasher work." He nodded. 

"Yeah, I'll figure it out." You lied. You had never used a dishwasher before.

"Great. I leave in three days. Please be here the day after my departure. Here's the spare key."

"Thank you, sir!" You bowed and walked to the door to put your shoes back on. "Good luck on your trip!"

"Thank you, miss. Good luck to you, too." 

The bet was placed, the game was on.

[gyaruhana]

Can u please write wlw smut for my glorious queen se-mi player 380

Se-mi/Player 380 - hatefucking

Synopsis: You and Se-mi can't stand each other so what better way to deal with that issue then fight for dominance?

A/N: i did combine this with another request for hatesex bc they both were wuh luh wuh so.. hope you don't mind!!

Warnings: smut content, choking, degradation, slight fight for dominance, fingering, it's hatesex..

If there was one thing you avoided, it was arguments. You preferred to avoid making enemies because; what was the point? It was far better to make friends than enemies who’d plot your death on the daily. Friends would be there to make you happy and comfort you when you're sad. Enemies would just laugh at you and pull you further down into the depths of sadness. That's why you always opted for only making friends and allies.

The only exception to this little rule was her. Se-mi.

Se-mi had been getting on your nerves from the moment you had both spared a glance at each other. There was something about her that reeked of over-confidence and judgement. The way she would look at you with that smirk on her face as if she thought she was better than you. It pisses you the fuck off and all you wanted to do was punch her face in so she could never smirk or scoff at you again.

Whether it was for good or bad, Se-mi felt the same way. You were always so nice to everyone, even to those who didn't deserve kindness whatsoever. It pissed her off that you'd try to be friends with everyone. Were you naive or just plain stupid? Whatever it was, she didn't like it. You were so happy-go-lucky as if you weren't trapped in this hell hole where people are being killed left and right. She didn't trust you at all because you seemed like the type who'd willingly stab someone in the back sooner or later.

In short, the feeling of hate was mutual between you two and, everytime you were near each other, there was a silent tension of unspoken dislike. Neither of you had actually communicated your dislike through speech, it was all just glares from across the room and the purposeful avoidance of each other.

Today, you unfortunately didn't have the opportunity to avoid each other like you two usually opted to do.

It was the third game and it was called ‘Mingle’. It wasn't a difficult game as long as you weren't one to crack under the pressure of a short time limit. All you had to do was form a group of whatever number was called out and then run into a room with them. The first four rounds went well for you since you were friends with practically everyone here and could always find a group to join.

When the fifth round came, the number two was called and chaos broke out quite quickly as people realized not everyone will be fortunate enough to get a room. As chaos broke out and lights flashed, you found it rather difficult to see who was on their lonesome and needed a pair. Luckily for you, you managed to spot the tall silhouette of someone who was on their own so you ran towards them and grabbed a hold of their wrist, dragging them into one of the last free rooms. You quickly shut it behind you as you let out a relieved sigh - glad you managed to find someone before it was too late.  

When you turned around, you were met with the unimpressed face of Se-mi. You almost let out a groan of annoyance at the sight of her. Maybe you should go back out there and just get shot. At least then she'd die as well and you could rest peacefully knowing she'd never plague anyone with her ugly personality again. 

“I'm not happy to see you either,” she says as she folds her arms across her chest and leans against the wall behind her. You let out a scoff of annoyance as the doors finally locked indicating the timer was up. Considering you'd probably be trapped in this room for a while until they clear out the bodies, maybe now would be a good time to confront her about her behavior.

“What's your problem? You're always such an asshole to me,” you say as you step closer to her. Your words may have been slightly aggressive but you couldn't help it when she was around. She just naturally got on every nerve in your body. In response to your words, she pushes off the wall and uncrosses her arms to step closer to you.

“My problem? You're the one with the problem,” Se-mi spoke as she looked at you with annoyance. The audacity you had to call her a bitch as if you were any better. Seeing you like this made her believe all your kindness really was an act for your own personal gain. That only fueled her hatred for you.

“You're the one who's been glaring at me since day one. You're a total fucking dickhead with your arrogant attitude,” you speak as you point an accusatory finger in her face. You were sick of how she'd act and the way she'd judge everyone silently. She needed a wake up call or something so she'd stop standing on her high horse. After all, she glared at you first. What were you supposed to do? Let her treat you like that? Hell no. You might be all for making friends but that doesn't mean you'll back down when someone chooses to be your enemy.

Then suddenly, out of the blue - her hand wrapped around your throat and she pushed you onto the wall. “I'd watch your mouth when you speak to me,” she says with anger bubbling inside her. Calling her arrogant? Who did you think you were? Someone needed to put you in your place.

You were taken aback by the sudden violence before grabbing her wrist tightly and glaring at her. “Or what? What are you going to do about it? Kill me?” you spoke sarcastically. You didn't fear her at all or the hand around your throat. It's not like she'd kill you. She couldn't have the guts to murder someone. You knew her type. Assholes on the outside, total pussies on the inside. They all just made enemies with people they assumed were weak so they could act tough.

She was quiet for a moment as she thought about your words. She couldn't kill you, no. You wouldn't learn anything that way (and she might get in trouble for that). She'd have to take a different approach if she wanted to make you learn a lesson about your bitchy behavior and, thankfully, she knew just how to make someone learn a lesson. She smirked for a moment before nodding her head.

“I won't kill you, no. I'll teach you a lesson,” she spoke before suddenly pressing her lips to yours. Her hand stayed wrapped around your throat, lightly squeezing to serve as a warning. You didn't expect her to kiss you of all things. It left you frozen in shock. Her kiss wasn't gentle either. It was rough as if its purpose was to silence you. There was nothing loving about it and, strangely enough, you found yourself actually being turned on by it. You didn't have feelings for her, no. You hated her but you were stuck in a place like this with no guarantee of a tomorrow so maybe a little hatefuck wouldn't be a terrible idea.

“Fuck, you're a shitty kisser,” you speak when she pulls away. She lets out a bitter chuckle at your words and shakes her head. “Thought I told you to watch your mouth?” She said as her free hand trailed down to the waistband of your pants. Oh, Se-mi was going to make sure you submit and watch your attitude towards her from now on.  “You think I'll listen to you?” You respond snarkily. 

“Oh, you will,” she says, her hand making it to your underwear as she gently traces the fabric of it. She moves her hand beneath the fabric and gently feels your entrance. “You're wet. You're just a whore, huh?” she spoke with a mocking smirk. She found it amusing that you were turned on by something like this. 

You were about to make a quick comment in response when she quickly slid her index finger into you making you let out a moan. God, you didn't expect her to do that so suddenly. She was full of surprises today. You quickly recovered from the initial shock as you noticed the smug look on her face. It drove you insane. If she thought she was teaching you a lesson like this, you'd have to teach her one too.

“Don't think you're in control,” you speak before grabbing the back of her head and pressing your lips to hers. Se-mi would be lying if she said she wasn't a little taken aback by the sudden kiss. She had assumed you'd fold immediately but apparently you were much more of a challenge. She smirked into the kiss before pulling her finger out slowly and then teasingly thrusting it back in. You let out a muffled moan at the feeling as you bring your free hand to the hem of her shirt. You lift it up slightly before putting your hand underneath and slowly trailing it upwards. 

“Might want to try harder to please me. You do a poor job at fingering a girl,” you speak after breaking from the kiss. She shakes her head with the smirk not leaving her face as she starts to thrust her fingers in and out of you quicker. “Oh really? Your body says otherwise,” she says, her hand tightening around your throat once more to serve as a silent warning. 

“I'm not even close to getting to cum. Can't you do any better?” You say as your hand that had earlier slipped under her shirt pinched her nipple. She tensed for a moment as her breath hitched, making you laugh. “What? That sensitive?” You tease and she sends a glare at you. She could try to dominate you as much as she wants but you weren't one to submit so easily.

She suddenly presses her thumb to your clit and starts to rub it roughly. The sensation makes you lean your head back against the wall as you moan. “Seems like you're the sensitive one,” she says as she watches your reactions carefully. As much as you wouldn't ever admit it, she was actually quite good with her fingers. She knew exactly how to move them and get someone to cum quite quickly. 

“if we weren't stuck here, I'd show you how good I could really fuck you,” you speak with a smirk as you look back at her again. “sure you could,” she responds sarcastically as she continues to thrust her fingers at a quick pace. She could tell you were close now as she felt you clench around her fingers.

“You're close, huh?” she says, clearly mocking you. You laugh breathlessly as you shake your head and look to the side. God, she was still such a cocky bitch. You looked at her before pulling on her hair and glaring at her. “When I cum, I'll make you lick your fingers clean, yeah?” you speak and the smirk on her face seems to grow bigger. Fuck, she really didn't think you'd still be acting so dominant. It was actually turning her on more - getting to fight for dominance like this.

With a few more thrusts of her fingers you came undone with a quiet moan. She slowly pulls her fingers out of you and you don't waste a second to grab her hand and pull it out of your pants. “C’mon, suck,” you say as you bring her hand to her mouth, her fingers wet with your cum. She looks at you for a moment before slowly putting her fingers into her mouth and sucking them clean of your cum. She pulls them out of her mouth after a few seconds and, as if on cue, the door unlocked meaning the guards had finished cleaning.

You both looked at the door before looking at each other again. “If you make it out alive of this place, I'll have to fuck you on my dildo next time,” she speaks as she steps back from you. “Looking forward to it- seeing you embarrass yourself, i mean,” you respond before walking out without another word and leaving her alone in the room. She watched you walk out before scoffing.

“She better make it out alive,”

[quarterlifekitty]

Bad day at work so I'm thinking about the boys to cope.

How do you think they'd react to Reader coming up to them one day saying "hey your good at being an ass, how can I tell this person to fuck off effectively enough that they never talk to me again?"

How many of them would be proud to teach you how to be mean to people who are undeserving of your time?

Your writing is phenomenal and your blog is my safe space ilysm 💋💋💋

Thank you so much!

Okay, so I think they’re all uniquely deranged about the idea of being your guard dog in such circumstances, but on the matter of teaching you how to bite back, in a verbal sense? I’m gonna say something controversial, maybe.

Gaz is the most proud to teach you how to be mean when the circumstances call for it. He’s faced no shortage of pushback in many places in his own career, and it took a lot of time and suffering to learn precisely how to act to get what he wanted, and how to be mean without it getting reflected back on him.

He teaches you how to be mean through, essentially gentle parenting. The most infuriating thing you can signal to a driver is not a middle finger. It’s a thumbs down and a frown on your face. Gaz knows this.

When people don’t say please or treat you with dignity when they’re demanding something of you? You say “uh oh! What’s the magic word?” When someone says an off color joke around you that you didn’t find fuckin’ funny, you say “I didn’t get that. Can you explain that joke to me?”

In the best case scenario, it’s prompts a sheepish capitulation from the offender. Well, that depends on your definition of best case scenario. Another possibility is that the person will have a complete incoherent meltdown that will alienate everyone witnessing it. But no matter what, it’s humiliation that you cannot get in trouble for.

They will rue the day they disrespected his dove, because you’re gonna dismantle them, and you’re going to do it with a smile on your face.

[befallenstars-archive]

Oh, my...I did not read the 15k words part. However, we are here.

Before I yap— Eris, have I ever told you that there's something about the way you write that catches my interest? Can't really put it into words just yet. Maybe if I read more I'll eventually formulate that feeling into words~

Alright, spoilers under the cut! And LOTS of yapping~

Blade

Going for the single bed trope I see...this'll be interesting (¬ ͜ ͡¬)

Okay, but I do find it funny that the reason he wanted to share the bed was for the reader and him to get better rest. Only for the two of them to NOT get a wink of sleep. Reader toss

Love to see a reader that doesn't back down and even takes on a challenge. And oop— would you look at that. Nobody's really getting any sleep now. Hopefully, the bed frame's sturdy enough! And that the walls are thick enough for the sake of the neighbors.

"Knowing you did that to him-that you could make this cold, calculating man lose control-sent an electric thrill through you." Mnhmmm...I'm sure it did.

I think the maintenance of professional distance flew out of the window the moment he said they should share the same bed— to which was literally made for a single person alone. Also when the reader agreed.

Please, just fuck already—

Did I get slightly absorbed in reading that I forgot to make comments? Yes. Sorry. I actually came back to drop a comment about the headboard bc I'm praying for that thing to survive the night.

Also...whoooo *fans self* there's a reason I was a bit occupied with reading than commenting. That bit was VERY distracting.

Ah, a touch of sadomasochism. Love to see it.

Personally, I've always been weak when it comes to the magic phrase "pretty girl". Always will be actually.

Hey!!! The bed frame survived. At least they'll be able to sleep comfortably now.

And the softness of the ending. From passionate and almost feral but gently holding each other and savoring the moment <333

Sunday

THE TENSION.

Ohhh, the underlying yearning and fear of speaking out because of the status. Wanting to just close that small gap and yet it feels like such a wide wedge between two people who simply want to love one another.

I am unwell.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his forehead against yours. You don't.

What if I flatline—

Yes. Go, reader! Tell him! That man's holding back too much when he already has such a gorgeous being in his arms who clearly wants him. Stop trying to play hard to get, Sunday.

Did I get distracted? AGAIN? Yes. Yes, I did.

Came back to comment when he said that he'd be gentle. Oh, his constant reassurances, and the way he does his best to memorize and savour the intimate moment with the reader. I am sighing out dreamily and swooning into a fluffy couch. He's even focusing on the reader's pleasure and comfort!!

...all these praises have me looking the side blushing and fanning myself—

THE CONFESSION. I'M TEARING UP AS WE SPEAK. THE WAY HE'S BEGGING??? I'M ON THE FLOOR.

I actually wanted to pick a dialogue to put here and fawn over but all of them are actually too good. I can't pick one. All of them are just— URGH

"His arms wrap around you, holding you close. It's a protective gesture, as if he's afraid you might slip away if he lets go."

Lemme see if I can find that one specific meme that describes how I feel rn...

AHA! FOUND IT!

Did you know? I'm actually an absolute sucker for the lines that go "You're home". Very much so. That was the final nail to the coffin.

Agrenti

Oop— fanboy behavior, huh?

Ngl, I'm fairly new to HSR so I don't really know this character. But he seems like such a sweet guy. Deserves tons of kisses.

"He didn't know whether to laugh or combust." Pretty understandable if someone as lovely and amazing as the reader offers to be your first kiss.

...giving me a wolf hidden in sheep's clothing vibes rn. Interesting. Nvm, he's still a sweetheart <3

He reminds me of a bunny somehow. Like I just wanna pet him and reassure him that he's fine. Very adorable too hehe

Reader has this man completely in the palm of their hand, I fear. Dude is absolutely SMITTEN.

He's so sweet huhu

The ending!! So soft and lovely. Just two people just enjoying the connection they have.

Aventurine

I will never tire of the way you write the reader, Eris! The sassy and confident attitude? Oh, please! I might just started simping for her instead of the men at this point—

"I’m pretty sure the only thing you’ve carried is that overinflated ego of yours.” IM WHEEZING AS WE SPEAK.

“What can I say? You’re entertaining, like a fancy slot machine with nice hair.” *cue incoherent fox wheezing noises* NO BC I AM IN LOVE WITH THESE REMARKS.

I just know the dealer's just there looking up to the ceiling and praying to whatever aeon there is to let the reader and this man just get a room before he has to call for both security and clean-up service.

Was the gap between feedbacks a bit...lengthy? Yes. But in my defense it's only 'cuz a certain writer over here really knows her way with words on how to make the tension so thick and palpable that I'm too busy drowning in it to make any comments.

"Let me take care of you." I dunno if you'll be able to tell which part I am on rn but I promise you that I am absolutely blushing and burying my face against my pillows.

"He moans in response" I am currently dying from a nosebleed.

Unsurprisingly, I'm weak towards the specific petname "love"...

I absolutely adore the softness of it all afterwards. My heart's melting huhu

Dr. Ratio

*breathes in*

THE INTIMACY—

Good gods, I am over here just reading the first scenes and I can already feel the tension seeping into my bones. I'm just here with a hand over my mouth, and completely invested in the way this all unfolds.

This one feels so...intimate somehow. I can't really explain it and I am absolutely loving it. I think it's in the way that most of the time the reader is more fiery and sassy while here? It feels like there's a bit more depth to it. Such a good read and I'm literally still at the first part.

"Let's move somewhere private." Yeah, I agree since I recall Aventurine saying they'll be back in a bit. Hell, I'm not even gonna be surprised if they were in the shadows making bets about how this all goes, and didn't want to disturb the moment.

"His words were sincere, giving you an out if you needed it. But the way his eyes roamed over your face, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours, betrayed his own longing." + "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

I AM WEAK IN THE KNEES FOR THIS.

"He stepped back slightly, giving you a moment to take in the sight of him..." Hands on my hips rn. I also had to take a moment to go 'Really?' with an exasperated expression on my face.

Devotion. First word that came to mind. I adore that so so very much.

I am feeling this fic was definitely the favorite child.

Wait. Just finished the fic. Lemme gather my thoughts. That— I...uhm..how...wow. Who knew a smut at 8AM could render me speechless in a good way, eh?

I just KNOW this fic was definitely the favorite child. Though the ending was a lot more bittersweet than I expected huhu

Jing Yuan

Ah, last but not the least. Unsure how to feel abt this one since I found him unnerving when I first met him in-game.

"Stop thinking so much." Goddamn, I wish it were a switch I could just turn off—

WELL, THAT THREW ME OFF-GUARD.

Was I once again sucked into the tension that I completely forgot to make comments? Yes. I'm sorry. It's not my fault. Eris writes them too well.

By this point, I truly have a love and hate relationship with this man. Do I still find him unnerving? Yes. But he also extremely attractive that it's unfair when matched with the honeyed-tongue of his.

Struggling rn/lh

...having even more mixed feelings abt Jing Yuan bc of this fic—

But alas! Setting that aside...

Eris, I am positively in love with your writing <3

༉‧₊˚. Turning Page ˚.₊༉

Ft. Sunday ノ Blade ノ Aventurine ノ Dr Ratio ノ Jing Yuan ノ Argenti

sum: unintended one night stands with hsr men wc: 15.7k (roughly 2k - 3k per part)

contains: fempovノpnv (unprotected), creampie, (protected in argenti's), oral (receiving and giving), fingering, handjob, college au in argenti's, royal au in sunday's, both had been drinking in ratio's, legal age gap in jing yuan's, loss of virginity (reader's in sunday's part & argenti's in his part)

a/n: argenti's just so sweet <333

༉ - 2k

The safe house was cramped and freezing, with bare walls that felt as though they'd been forgotten by time. The mission was far from over, and so was the night. Blade had insisted on sharing the only bed, his reasoning being that it made more sense for both of you to rest.

You didn’t argue, at least not openly—but as the minutes dragged on, frustration slowly began to creep in.

But beneath it all, there was an undercurrent, a taut thread of tension that whispered of something unspoken—a frustration you weren’t ready to confront.

The bed was far too small for two people. You could feel his presence constantly, his shoulder brushing against yours with every move you made. It was impossible to ignore the heat radiating from his body, or the quiet tension hanging in the air. The silence between you felt suffocating, far too thick.

You shifted again, desperate to find a comfortable spot, but it was futile. His warmth pressed into your side, too close for comfort. No matter which way you turned, there was only more of him—his body right there, almost too much. You tried to pull away, but the space was so tight you were only met with the sharp edges of the bed, forcing you back into him.

“Stop moving,” Blade muttered, his voice low and laced with irritation. But there was something else, a tension that hinted at a deeper frustration.

“This bed barely fits one person, let alone two,” you shot back, your tone tighter than you intended.

He didn’t miss a beat, “You’re welcome to take the floor.”

It wasn’t a real suggestion, the teasing smirk in his voice was undeniable. You huffed, exasperated, letting out a frustrated sigh as the bed creaked under the smallest of movements. It was maddening—this small space, the constant proximity, his body so close that your nerves hummed with awareness. It wasn’t just frustration anymore. Your heart was racing, and not for reasons you wanted to admit.

Neither of you spoke for what felt like an eternity. The only sounds were your breathing and the ruffling of the duvet. Then Blade's voice sliced through that quiet like a knife. "You're too tense," he said, softer than before but with an edge. "Relax.”

You nearly laughed. Relax? In a bed this small, pressed up against him, with everything swirling between you? It was impossible. Instead, you shifted again, purposefully leaning just a little more into him, testing his patience.

He stiffened, just slightly. "Stop."

It wasn't an order, per se- more of a warning beneath the restraint of desire. The space between you was alive, humming with an unspoken something. Perhaps it was that frustrated buzz of being too close, or perhaps it was simply fatigue from the mission.

"I don't think either of us is getting any sleep tonight," you murmured.

Blade's response was a low grumble, his voice rougher than before. "You're right." Then, ever so slightly, he moved closer, closing the gap until you could feel the heat of his body right against yours again. That subtle shift was enough for your breath to catch in your throat, and the space between you began pulsating with something far more dangerous than mere proximity.

He shifted; his eyes razor-sharp as he spoke, his voice low, almost too calm. "If you're going to keep fidgeting, just say what it is you want.”

You shifted again, your body moving against his in a slow, deliberate motion. The air between you wasn’t just charged—it was thick with unspoken desires and the undeniable pull of him. His heat radiated against your back, his presence a magnetic force that sent a shiver cascading down your spine.

"I don’t know what I want," you murmured, your voice a betrayal. The words faltered under the weight of their lie, and you knew he heard it too. You did know and so did he.

Blade's eyes narrowed, his gaze nearly predatory. "Don't play games," he warned, his voice low.

You could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against your ass, insistent and unmistakable. It sent an electric jolt right to your core, making your breath hitch. Knowing you did that to him-that you could make this cold, calculating man lose control-sent an electric thrill through you.

You bit your lip, fighting a moan as Blade's erection pressed even harder against your ass. The intense heat coming off his body seeped into your skin. You knew you should pull away, maintain the professional distance between, but temptation just proved too strong.

You arched your back, pushing against him. A low groan rumbled from his lips and you could feel his control slipping, his resolve crumbling under the weight of his need.

"Don't tease," he growled, low and rough with desire. His fingers gripped your skin, firm and possessive, leaving faint crescents in their wake. A warning, a promise. You should stop this—walk away before the fire consumes you both. But you didn’t. Instead, your body moved of its own accord, your back arching again, pressing your ass against him with deliberate insistence.

The low, guttural sound that escaped his lips was almost feral, reverberating through you and igniting something wild. Blade’s hand slid up your thigh, his fingertips grazing the edge of your shorts. You knew you should probably stop this but as his fingers hovered, promising more, the pull of temptation was too strong and you couldn’t push him away. You didn’t want to.

"Blade." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His fingers curled around your thigh, jerking you closer. "Don't say my name like that," he growled, his voice low and rough with wanting. "Not unless you mean it."

You reached back deliberately, slowly, your hand finding his wrist. But instead of pushing him away, you pulled his hand higher, guiding his fingers to the damp heat between your legs. A low groan escaped his lips as he felt how wet you were, how much you wanted this.

Blade's fingers circled your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan. His touch was electric, making your body shake with need.

His fingers slid lower, teasing your entrance, and making you ache for more. You arched your back, pressing your ass harder against his bulge. The friction was maddening; the heat between your bodies was almost unbearable.

"Please," you whispered. The word slipped out before you could catch it. "Blade, please."

The low growl was his immediate response, and his fingers slipped inside you. "Fuck," he growled, sounding rough with desire. "You're so wet."

You gasped as Blade's fingers plunged deep inside you, your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more. His other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he thrust his fingers in and out, setting a brutal pace that had you seeing stars.

"That’s it-" he purred, his voice low and rough, sending shivers skittering down your spine. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, the words a seductive growl. "Take what you need."

The thought of his cock filling you, made your head spin. Your hand moved instinctively, fingers fumbling in a desperate attempt to free his cock. Blade's breath caught as your fingers reached around to his cock, stroking him through the fabric of his pants. You turned in his arms, facing him now, his eyes were dark with lust as you straddled him. "I want you," you breathed.

His hands gripped your hips,  "Are you sure?" he growled, his voice rough with restraint.

You nodded, your lips skimming his.

His resolve shattered. You reached between your bodies, your hand slipping inside his pants to free him. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy in your hand, the tip slick with precum. You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slowly, teasing him, delighting in the low, guttural sound that rumbled through his chest. Blade’s control cracked further as his hips jerked into your hand.

"I'm sure," you breathed, positioning yourself above him. "I want you to fuck me, Blade. I need it."

With that, you sank down onto him, taking his cock deep inside you in one smooth motion. A low moan tore from your throat at the sensation of being stretched and filled so completely. Blade's hands tightened on your hips, his fingers leaving bruises in their wake.

"Fuck," he growled, his head falling back against the pillow. "You feel so good."

You started to move, rising up and sinking back down, finding a rhythm that had sparks of pleasure shooting through your body with each thrust. Blade matched your movements, his hips snapping up to meet yours, driving himself deeper inside you.

The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin on skin, the bed creaking beneath you while you rode him.

"Harder," you demanded, your nails raking down his chest. "Fuck me harder."

Blade's response was to flip you onto your back, never once slipping out of you. He loomed over you, his eyes wild and hungry, his hips pistoning into you with a force that had the headboard slamming against the wall.

Your legs coiled around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, urging him to claim you fully. A moan tore from your lips, unbridled and desperate. "Yes," you gasped, your fingers clutching the sheets as his cock stretched and filled you, the sensation both overwhelming and addicting. "Don’t stop—just like that."

He silenced you with a bruising kiss, his mouth crashing against yours with a fervour that bordered on feral. His tongue danced against yours, matching the rhythm of his hips, exploring and claiming. You met him with equal hunger, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, the taste of copper blooming as you bit down. The sharp pain only seemed to drive him wilder.

Blade’s rhythm faltered for a moment, becoming chaotic, each thrust harder, deeper, as if he was losing control. His breath was ragged against your mouth, his groan reverberating low in his chest. "Fuck," he growled, the word guttural, strained, trembling with need. "I’m so close."

Your nails raked down his sweat-slicked back, leaving fiery trails along his skin. "Me too," you managed between breathless gasps, your body arching into him, seeking the climax coiling tight within you. "Don’t stop. Please don’t stop."

His movements turned punishing, each drive a collision of raw power and desperation, his body demanding your surrender. The pressure inside you built to a fever pitch, a tether about to snap. Blade’s voice cut through the haze, low and commanding, "Come for me, pretty girl."

Those words, spoken with such command, were enough to send you over the edge. Your body convulsed, your inner walls clamping down around Blade's cock as your orgasm crashed over you in waves of intense, overwhelming pleasure.

"Yes -God yes!" you cried out, your head thrown back.

Blade followed, his hips slamming into you one final time as his release overtook him. His guttural groan was almost primal, his cock throbbing inside you as he poured himself into you, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm as some of his cum dripped out, running down your thighs.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was of your mingled breaths. Your bodies shone with sweat, were entwined. His weight pressed you into the mattress, exhaustion in his muscles.

Blade’s lips brushed against your temple, softer now, a contrast to the raw passion that had consumed you both moments before. And as your heartbeats slowed, his presence became the only thing you knew—a warmth, a gravity, pulling you under.

Blade rolled onto his back beside you, his arm pulling you close. You snuggled into his side, your head resting on his chest.

"That was..." you started, but words failed you.

Blade chuckled softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "It was."

༉ - 2.8k

The corridors are quieter than usual tonight, save for the faint echo of your footsteps and the sound of Sir Sunday’s armour as he walks beside you. You have done this many times before: this midnight escort from the ballroom to your chambers, accompanied by your knight. But there was something about tonight that felt different and maybe that’s because the event was hosted to find you a suitor.

The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of your gown against the polished floor. His presence always feels heavier, and there's an edge to the air between you, something unsaid pressing against the confines of propriety.

"They were all good choices," Sunday says at last, in a low and even tone.

Your brow furrows. "Were they?"

He doesn't look at you as he replies. "I'd expect so. The court wouldn't invite anyone unworthy.".

You look over at him, catching the faint tension in his jaw. There's something restrained in the way he speaks tonight, something tightly wound beneath the surface. "And yet, I didn't choose any of them.".

He exhales sharply, the sound barely audible over his steps. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”

You slow your pace just enough that he has to adjust his stride to match. “Would you like to know them?”

His gaze flickers toward you briefly, a flash of gold under the dim light. “I doubt they’re for me to know, Your Highness.”

You stop to face him. The soft light casts shadows across his features, sharp and unreadable as always, but there’s something in his stance—a slight hesitation, the way his hand hovers just above the hilt of his sword—that betrays him.

"Maybe they are," you say, softer now, your voice barely enough to draw his attention fully.

For a moment, the distance between you feels insurmountable, though it's only a step or two. He doesn't speak, doesn't move, but his eyes search yours, as if trying to piece together what you're not saying aloud.

"I dismissed them all because none of them felt…" You pause, to think over the words. "....Right."

Sunday's grip tightens on the hilt of his sword. "You'll have to choose eventually," he says, deliberately keeping his voice neutral. "The court won't let you wait forever.".

"And what if I don't want to?"

The question hangs in the air, daring him to respond. You watch the flicker of something in his expression—surprise, perhaps, or maybe something deeper, something he’s worked too hard to keep buried.

“You’re the princess,” he says, but the words are softer this time, almost hesitant.

"And you're my knight," you reply, closing the distance.

He doesn't back up, but you notice the way his shoulders tense. "Exactly. And that is all I can be.".

Your breath catches at how his voice drops on the last word. There's no anger in it, no bitterness—only a quiet resignation.

"You think so, huh?" you whisper, not much louder than a whisper.

He turns away, tongue against his cheek. "I do."

You lift a hand before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing against the cold steel of his chest plate. The contrast between the armour and the warmth of the man beneath it sends a shiver through you. He freezes at the contact, his gaze snapping back to yours.

"Sunday…". His name is too familiar on your lips, but you can't stop.

"Don't." His voice is rough, but his hand rises, fingers curling loosely around your wrist. He doesn't pull you away, though; he doesn't move at all. "If you say anything else, I won't be able to forget it."

"Maybe I don't want you to."

The words have barely left your lips when he takes a step closer, erasing the distance between you. His eyes still remain so intense that they're pinning you in place, but there's a flicker of uncertainty there, too.

"This isn't a decision you can take lightly," he says in a low, hoarse voice.

"I already have."

He watches you, a silence building between you, gaining more and more weight with each passing second. Then, as if something inside him finally snaps, he lets go of your wrist only to frame your face with both hands.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his forehead against yours.

You don't.

His breath catches as you lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When you open them again, "I won't ask again," he whispers, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly that you are sure he can hear it. But you don't step back. You don't tell him to stop. You simply tilt your chin up, just a fraction, an invitation he doesn't need twice.

His lips brush against yours, tender at first, then pressing. It's the sort of kiss that seems like one great confession, revelation, and promise all at once. His hands move to the small of your back, drawing you closer, and you can't help but melt into him, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his tunic.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathing hard. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and there’s a hunger in his gaze that makes your stomach flip.

"We can't…" he begins, but the words are half-hearted, not very convincing.

"We can," you correct, your voice steadier than you feel.

He looks at you for a long moment, something fierce and tender warring in his expression. Then, with a low groan, he surges forward again, capturing your lips with his own. This kiss is harder, more urgent, and you can feel the way his body trembles against yours.

“Your chambers” he mumbles against your mouth. “Now.”

Without any warning, he sweeps you into his arms, cuddling you against his chest as he heads down the hall. Your heart races with the sudden motion, but you do nothing to protest it-merely wrapping your arms around his neck for balance.

The castle is quiet at this time of night, most people having gone to bed. You feel as though you have the whole world to yourselves as Sunday carries you swiftly through the halls, his footsteps echoing in the stillness.

He doesn’t wait around when you reach your chambers: he kicks the door shut behind you and pins you against it with his body, hands roaming over your curves, mapping out your form through the layers of your gown.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he growls, his lips trailing hot kisses along your jawline. “Wanted you.”

You arch into him, your head falling back as you let him in closer. "Then take me," you whisper, fingers curling in his hair.

He makes a low sound in his throat, something between a groan and a growl. His fingers find the fastenings of your dress and begin to undo them one by one, till the fabric pools at your feet. You stand before him clad in nothing other than your chemise, the thin material doing little to mask the signs of your body's reaction to his touch.

His gaze rakes over you, hungry and appreciative. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist.

He lifts you easily and sets you down on the bed. The sheets are cold against your bare skin as he lays you down, his body following yours, looking down at you with an intensity that takes the breath from your lungs.

"You sure about this?" he asks low, his voice rough with emotion.

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life," you whisper.

That seems to be the only confirmation he needs. He bends down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that sends a tide of heat through your body, his tongue plunging into your mouth to taste you thoroughly. You moan against his lips, your hands roving over his hard back.

His lips trail down your neck, tracing a path of fire in their wake. He pauses to suckle at your pulse point, and you can feel the way your heart races beneath his tongue. His hands slip under your chemise, and his calloused fingers skim the sensitive skin of your stomach.

"Sunday-" you gasp, arching into his touch.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “Just relax.”

You do your best to listen, focusing on the feel of his hands on your skin. He explores you at leisure, learning every dip and curve, every spot that makes you sigh or whimper. By the time he carefully removes your panties, you're trembling with need.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with wanting. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he says, his fingers teasing at your entrance.

"Don't-please-."

He pauses, his fingers stilling above your pussy. His eyes meet yours, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. "Are you-" he starts, his voice soft.

You nod, knowing exactly what he’s going to ask, "I've never…”

His expression softens further, if that’s even possible. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises. “We’ll take this slow.”

As you nod, he drops between your legs and his breath ghosts over your folds. He starts off slow, his tongue tracing delicate patterns and teasing you with light touches until, gradually, the pressure builds up, licking and sucking on your clit until you're gasping and writhing beneath him.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he works you with his mouth. He is patient, very attentive, judging by your reactions and modulating his technique accordingly. When you're trembling near the edge, he slips a finger inside you, then two, stretching you slowly.

"That's it," he mutters, his voice muffled against your skin.

He groans against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers through you. "You taste so fucking good," he mumbles, his words just a little slurred. "Can't get enough."

As he continues to lap at your clit, his free hand slides down his own body, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. You can hear the slick sound of skin on skin as he begins to stroke himself.

"Fuck," he gasps, his hips bucking into his hand. "Want to be inside you so badly."

He redoubles his efforts, his tongue delving deep, his fingers pumping faster. The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, and you can feel your orgasm building, your inner walls starting to flutter around his fingers.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "Come for me, baby. I want to taste you."

With a few more well-placed licks, you're there, crying out as pleasure crashes over you in waves. He laps at your release, his own hand moving frantically over his cock, his groans muffled from where he’s buried himself against your folds.

He easily settles himself between your thighs, his cock at your entrance. His eyes were filled with a mixture of lust and tenderness as he looked down at you.

"You ready?" he asks, his voice low and rough.

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Yes," you whisper. "I'm ready."

With a low groan, he starts to push inside, slow and careful with his movements. There's only a slight sting as he pushes in deeper, his eyes widening in concern.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face. "No, I'm okay. Please, don't stop."

He searches your eyes for a moment, then nods, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

You can feel every inch of him as he stretches you, filling you in a way you never have been filled before; it's agonisingly slow, but he refuses to be selfish and make this about his own pleasure.

"Fuck," he gasps, his forehead resting against yours. "You feel incredible."

He gives you a moment to adjust, his hips pressed flush against yours. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and shallow at first. Each drag of his cock against your sensitive walls sends sparks of pleasure through you, and you can't help but moan.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "Let me hear you."

He increases his pace gradually, his hands gripping your hips for leverage. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your gasps and cries.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans. His tongue delves into your mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his hips.

"You're taking me so well," he praises, his breath hot against your ear. "Such a good girl."

His hips roll in a steady rhythm, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through you. One hand slides up your side, cupping your breast and thumbing your nipple. The dual sensations make you gasp into his mouth.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours. "So perfect."

He shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. You cry out as he hits a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you.

"There," he groans, doing it again. "Is that good?"

You can only nod, your nails digging into his back as he drives you higher and higher. The pleasure builds with each stroke, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

He groans, his hips snapping forward as he buries himself deep inside you. "Fuck, angel," he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. "I love you. I've loved you for so long."

The confession bursts from his lips in something like prayer, and his eyes shine with its vehemence. It is as though a dam has burst inside him and all his pent-up feelings are pouring out in this moment.

"I know you're s'posed to pick one from the court," he goes on, his pistoning never flagging. "But don't. Please. Don't give yourself to anybody else."

His hands clamp down on your hips, fingers digging in soft. "Choose me," he begs, his voice cracking. "Be mine. Only mine."

You can almost feel the desperation in his words, the raw need. It's readily apparent how the thought of you with another man is tearing him apart.

"I'll do anything," he whispers, his forehead against yours. "Anything to keep you. Just say you'll be mine."

His words are like a warm bath washing over you, filling your heart full of something that has nothing to do with physical pleasure. In this moment, you know without a single doubt that you want to be his and his alone. 

"I'm yours," you breathe, legs wrapping around his waist. "Now and always." He surges forward, capturing your lips in a reverent, passionate kiss. He picks up speed, his hips moving faster, harder, as though he's trying to pour every ounce of love he has into you.

"I love you," he gasps against your mouth. "I love you so much."

His thrusts grow more erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Fuck," he groans. "I'm close. So close."

You could feel him throbbing inside of you, his cock pulsing with each stroke. Your pleasure was mounting to a crescendo as well, your inner walls fluttering around him.

"Come with me," he pleads, voice ragged. "I want to feel you come undone." His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, and that's all it takes. You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking with the force of it. 

He follows a moment later, his hips stuttering as he spills himself deep inside you. He falls on top of you, his weight pinning you to the mattress. His cock still is buried deep inside, pulsating with aftershocks of his orgasm.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "That was... incredible," he murmurs, his voice muffled.

His arms wrap around you, holding you close. It's a protective gesture, as if he's afraid you might slip away if he lets go.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his lips brushing your pulse point. "Don't leave me."

You curl into him, relishing the feeling of his body against yours. "I'm not going anywhere," you promise. "I'm right here."

He sighs contentedly, his grip on you loosening slightly. "Good," he murmurs. "Because I don't think I could bear it if you married any of them."

You smile, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his back. In this moment, everything feels right. The world outside might be chaos, but here, in his arms, you're safe. You're home.

༉ - 3.1k

Argenti sat on the floor of your dorm room, trying his best not to feel completely out of place. He’d been here a few times already—enough to recognise the familiar scent of citrus from the candles you always kept burning. But even so, it still felt a little surreal. You, the girl everyone at the university seemed to know and admire, had somehow invited him into your space.

He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. One night, a random chat at a party turned into shared laughs, then another conversation, until the two of you were talking long after your friends had left. Since then, you’d found reasons to hang out, even though it seemed to baffle everyone around you. You, the social butterfly, and him, the reserved guy who somehow ended up regularly meeting up with you outside of classes.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” you suddenly said, breaking the comfortable silence as you lounged on your bed.

“What’s weird?” Argenti asked, glancing up from the guitar pick he’d been absentmindedly fiddling with.

“Us.” You made a vague gesture between the two of you, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I mean, we’re just very different”

Argenti blinked, unsure of what you meant. Was it a good different? Or a bad one? “I—I guess,” he stammered, his voice unsure. “But it works, doesn’t it?”

You tilted your head, studying him with an expression he couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, it does,” you finally said, your smile softening. “You’re sweet, Argenti.”

“Thanks?” he mumbled, his face warming up. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but the compliment made him feel a little lighter.

You laughed at his blush suddenly wondering if there was a reason he became so flustered over small things. Sitting up, you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

Argenti froze, his face going red in an instant. “Uh… why?”

You shrugged, clearly amused by his reaction. “Because you’ve got that look. You know, like you’ve thought about it a lot but never actually done it.”

“I don’t… have a look,” he muttered, but even his awkward attempt to brush it off didn’t work. “But no. I haven’t.”

Your eyes widened, and then you laughed—a genuine, playful laugh that felt more teasing than mean. “Wait, seriously? Not even like a dare or something?”

He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you. “No,” he mumbled, feeling heat crawl up his neck. “I just… never really had the chance.”

You didn’t let up. “You’re telling me you’ve gone your whole life without even one kiss?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” he blurted out, immediately regretting it. He winced, wishing he could take the words back.

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, the teasing gleam in your eyes shifting into something more playful. “Are you saying you want to change that?”

“I—I didn’t mean—” Argenti stammered, his face burning. But then your hand brushed lightly against his arm, and he looked up to find you studying him, a mysterious glint in your eyes.

“You want me to teach you?” you asked, your voice quiet now, though still carrying that playful edge.

His heart skipped a beat. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

“Relax, Argenti,” you said, leaning in just a little closer. “I’m not doing this out of pity. Trust me, you’re a good looking guy, pretty face.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or combust, but before he could say anything, you were already moving in, your gaze locked on his as you tilted your head. “Okay,” you murmured, voice soft. “Here’s how this works. Don’t overthink it. Just… follow my lead, alright?”

He nodded, his thoughts jumbled as he fought to find his bearings. Then your lips brushed against his—gentle, almost tentative, testing the waters. It was quick, almost too quick, and when you pulled away, you studied him with an amused expression, clearly pleased by the way he’d reacted.

Argenti’s mind spun for a moment, still reeling from the sudden soft pressure of your lips. But as your eyes met his again, something inside him clicked. The hesitation, the awkwardness—it all seemed so distant now. This was real, and there was no way he was going to let it slip away.

Without thinking, his hand rose to cup your cheek, gently pulling you toward him. His heart raced as the space between you vanished, and in a smooth motion, he leaned in again, this time with a newfound confidence.

The kiss came quickly, without hesitation, and it was unrestrained, still soft, but with a sense of urgency he hadn’t expected. He kissed you with intention now, the sweetness and eagerness spilling out in the way his lips moved against yours. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, pulling you just a little closer as if he wanted to lose himself in the moment. He’d never felt anything like this before.

The kiss wasn’t perfect. He stumbled a little, his lips not quite finding the rhythm, a few moments of clumsy movement as he tried to keep up. But in that imperfection, there was something pure. There was something real about it. Each time his lips brushed against yours, a little out of sync, you were patient, guiding him back.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a seasoned kisser. He made up for it with sweetness—lingering just a little longer than necessary, his hand never leaving your cheek, as if it was the only thing that mattered in the world. Each time he leaned back in, he was driven by a need to prove that he could do this, that he wanted to be here with you.

When he finally pulled back, his breath coming in shallow gasps, he couldn’t help but glance up at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as if he’d just run a marathon. His lips were swollen, and a nervous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “I probably messed that up.”

But when your gaze met his, there was no judgement, only amusement—and something softer, something deeper in your eyes.

“No,” you said gently, tracing your fingers along his jaw. “You didn’t mess it up. It was… sweet. Really sweet.”

Argenti’s heart did a flip at the praise, and the knot in his stomach began to loosen. “I just—wanted to do it right,” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t want to mess it up with you.”

You smiled, that familiar teasing gleam still in your eyes, but now with something warmer behind it. “Well, you didn’t. And if it helps, I think you’ve got a lot of potential. It’s just… practice.” You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling mischievously. “And maybe a little bit of confidence. But don’t worry, I’m happy to teach you.”

The words sent a thrill through him. “I think I could learn from you,” he said, his voice a little breathless, his smile genuine. He was starting to feel more at ease, less unsure of himself. “I don’t mind practising.”

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing across his cheek, sending another wave of warmth through him. “Good,” you said, your voice light but sincere. “Because I’m not letting you off that easily.”

He leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, eliminating any distance between your bodies.

He could feel the warmth of your skin through your clothes, could smell the faint scent of your perfume. It was dizzying, overwhelming in the best way. He lost himself in the sensation, in the taste of your lips, the softness of your mouth.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard. Argenti's eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire. "I want..." he started, then faltered, unsure how to put the ache inside him into words.

"What do you want, Argenti?" you asked, your voice a husky whisper. Your hands slid down his chest, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.

"I want to touch you," he breathed, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. "I want to see you" He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I want you."

He watched as your eyes searched his face, saw the moment understanding dawned. A slow, seductive smile spread across your lips, and your fingers tightened on his shirt. "Then show me what you want." you whispered, your voice low and sultry.

Argenti's breath caught, his body responding instantly to your words. Emboldened, he reached for you, his hands finding the hem of your shirt. Slowly, he lifted it, revealing inch after inch of smooth, warm skin. He drank in the sight of you, committing every curve and dip to memory.

When the shirt fell away, he leaned in, pressing his lips to the hollow of your throat. You tilted your head back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses along your collarbone. His hands roamed your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra.

He could feel your heart racing beneath his touch, could hear the hitch in your breath as his fingers found the clasp of your bra. With a deft movement, he unhooked it, letting the garment fall away. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, naked from the waist up, your breasts full and perfect.

Unable to resist, he cupped one in his palm, marvelling at the feel of it, the softness. He thumbed your nipple, watching it pebble under his touch. Your breath hitched, and you arched into him, wordlessly encouraging him.

He took the hardened nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as he lavished attention on your breasts, alternating between gentle sucking and teasing nips.

Your skin was hot beneath his hands, your body pliant and responsive. He could feel the heat building between your legs, could sense your arousal growing with each passing moment. It spurred him on, fuelled his own desire.

“Let me-” you whispered, wanting to help him out, noticing his obvious bulge.

Argenti's breath hitched as your hands moved to his belt, your fingers deftly working to undo the buckle. He watched, transfixed, as you slowly unzipped his jeans, your knuckles brushing against his straining erection.

He swallowed hard, his hips twitching involuntarily at the contact. "I want to make you feel good too," he managed to say, his voice rough with need.

You smiled, a wicked gleam in your eyes. "Patience," you purred, pushing his jeans and boxers down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip. Argenti groaned, his head falling back as pleasure coursed through him. "Fuck," he gasped, his hips bucking into your touch.

You increased your pace, your grip firm but gentle. Your other hand cupped his balls, rolling them in your palm. "It’s pretty" you murmured, your breath hot against his ear.

Argenti's heart raced as your hand worked him over, pleasure sparking through his veins with each stroke. His cock throbbed in your grip, the sensation almost too intense to bear.

"Your hand—it feels incredible," he panted, his voice strained with need.

You smiled, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him. Your thumb swiped over the sensitive head, smearing the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there. You lowered your head, your tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up his shaft. Argenti's breath caught, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

You took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. Your tongue swirled around him as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each descent. The wet heat of your mouth was exquisite, driving Argenti wild with pleasure. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he fought the urge to thrust into you.

You hummed around him, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

Argenti's grip on your hair tightened as you took him deeper, your throat constricting around his throbbing cock. The sensation was indescribable, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Pleasure built at the base of his spine, coiling tighter and tighter with each pass of your tongue.

He could feel his orgasm approaching, the tightening of his muscles. But he didn't want this to end, not yet. He wanted to savour every moment, every sensation.

He quickly pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. You looked up at him, your lips swollen, your eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

"I need to be inside you," he rasped, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you around me when I come."

You chuckle at his neediness as you lean across your bed, grabbing a condom from your drawer.

Argenti's eyes widened as you retrieved a condom from your drawer, a mix of anticipation and nerves fluttering in his stomach. He watched as you tore open the packet and then rolled the condom onto his cock, your fingers brushing against his sensitive skin, making him shudder.

Once the condom was in place, you turned around, giving Argenti a tantalising view of your ass as you bent over slightly. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs, revealing your pussy to him.

Argenti's mouth went dry at the sight, his cock twitching with renewed interest. He stepped forward, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he pressed himself against you. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin.

Argenti's hands trembled slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his condom-sheathed cock nudging against your slick folds. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, beckoning him to plunge inside.

"I've never done this before," he admitted softly, his voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and excitement. "I want to do it right. I want to make you feel good."

You glanced back at him over your shoulder, a reassuring smile on your lips. "Just go slow," you murmured, reaching back to guide him forward. "And don't worry about doing it perfectly. Just focus on how it feels."

Argenti nodded, taking a deep breath as he began to push forward. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever experienced - the tight heat of your pussy enveloping him, drawing him deeper. He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he savoured the feeling. Inch by inch, he sank into you, until he was buried to the hilt.

Argenti bit down on his lip, fighting the urge to come right then and there. The sensation of being inside you was overwhelming, your tight heat gripping him like a vice. He could feel every flutter of your walls around his cock, every pulse of your arousal.

"Shit-” he gasped, his hips twitching involuntarily.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. He wanted this to last, wanted to make it good for you.

Slowly, carefully, he began to move, pulling out until just the tip remained inside before sliding back in. He set a steady rhythm, rocking into you with deep, measured strokes. Your moans filled the room, spurring him on. He could feel your body responding to his, your hips pushing back to meet his thrusts.

"Is this good?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Your reassuring moans and the way your body moved against his told Argenti all he needed to know. He continued to thrust, gradually increasing his pace as he grew more confident.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your breathy gasps and his low groans. Sweat beaded on his brow as he lost himself in the sensation, in the feel of your body beneath his. He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in his core. But he held back, determined to make sure you reached your peak first.

His hand slid around your hip, finding your clit. He rubbed in slow circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Argenti's fingers worked your clit in time with his thrusts, the dual stimulation driving you closer to the edge. He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around him as your pleasure mounted.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice low and rough. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

Your moans grew louder, more urgent, and Argenti knew you were close. He redoubled his efforts, thrusting harder, faster, his fingers circling your clit with increasing pressure.

Suddenly, your back arched, your head thrown back in ecstasy as your orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy clenched around him, rippling along his cock, and Argenti groaned, the sensation pushing him over the brink.

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he came hard. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, his vision whiting out as he rode out the intensity of his release.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both lost in the aftermath of your shared climax. Finally, Argenti slipped out of you, disposing of the condom before collapsing beside you on the bed. He turned his head to look at you, a lazy smile on his lips.

Argenti's heart swelled at the gentle press of your lips against his forehead. The simple, tender gesture spoke volumes, conveying a depth of care and affection that he'd never experienced before.

He reached up, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulled you down for a soft, lingering kiss. It was different from the heated passion of before, this kiss. It was sweet, almost chaste, a physical manifestation of the connection growing between you.

When you pulled away, he gazed into your eyes, his own shining with a mix of contentment and wonder.

“You’re a natural.” you joke with a soft laugh as you wrap your arms around him.

Argenti chuckled, the sound deep and rich as he rested his head against your chest. "I think I'm a quick learner."

༉ - 2.5k

The casino floor was alive with energy, especially  at your table. You and Aventurine had been on a streak for so long it was starting to turn heads. Chips piled up in neat stacks in front of you both, the gleam of gold and the scent of success making the night feel almost unreal.

“Another win,” Aventurine announced casually as the dealer slid another stack his way. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, the picture of effortless cool. “But let’s be real here. This run? It’s all because of me. Clearly, I’m your lucky charm.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms as you gave him an incredulous look. “You’re my lucky charm? I think you’ve got that backwards. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

He chuckled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Oh, is that how it is? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like I’ve been carrying this team all night.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Carrying? Please. I’m pretty sure the only thing you’ve carried is that overinflated ego of yours.”

Aventurine laughed, a low, warm sound that sent a pleasant thrill up your spine. He tilted his head, his gaze locking with yours in a way that made your pulse quicken. “You talk a big game for someone who wouldn’t be winning without me. Admit it—you’re having fun because I’m here.”

You leaned in closer, matching his energy. “Oh, absolutely,” you said, voice dripping with mock sincerity. “It’s so much fun watching you pretend you’re the reason we’re winning when we both know who’s really the lucky one here.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, the playful challenge in them unmistakable. “Careful, or I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”

You grinned, tapping a finger on the table. “What can I say? You’re entertaining, like a fancy slot machine with nice hair.”

Aventurine barked a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “A slot machine? That’s the best you’ve got?” He leaned even closer, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve got some nerve.”

“And you love it,” you said with a wink, surprising even yourself with the boldness of your words.

Aventurine’s grin widened, his eyes glinting as he tilted his head slightly. “You know what? You might be right. Guess I’ve got a weakness for confident types.”

The air between you shifted, the playful banter taking on a sharper edge. You refused to back down, instead, you leaned in, your faces just inches apart now.

“Careful, Aventurine,” you said, your voice soft but laced with teasing. “If you keep flirting like that, I might start thinking you’re not just here for the gambling.”

His gaze flicked to your lips for just a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes, his smirk now decidedly more dangerous. “Maybe I’m not.”

The tension between you and Aventurine was electric, the noise of the casino fading into a distant hum. His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with mischief and something more daring. Slowly, deliberately, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, metallic keycard.

He twirled it between his fingers like it was a chip, the move impossibly smooth. “You’re good at reading between the lines,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “Think you can figure out what this means?”

Your gaze flicked to the keycard, then back to his face, your heart pounding as your brain scrambled for a witty retort. “Oh, I don’t know,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like you’re trying to skip ahead in the game. Aren’t you supposed to take me out to dinner first?”

Aventurine chuckled, the sound rumbling and warm. He slid the card across the table, stopping it just in front of your hand.

You picked up the card slowly, holding it between your fingers as if weighing your options. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said smoothly, leaning back with a confidence that was infuriatingly attractive. “Unless you count spending more time with me. But if that’s too much of a gamble, I’d understand.”

He collected his chips as he stood up, leaving the table, “Don’t keep me waiting too long. Wouldn’t want that luck to run out, now would we?”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you stood, slipping the card into your pocket. “Not a chance.”

—

You locate the room number on the keycard and slide it into the lock. The door swings open to reveal a spacious suite, all sleek lines and modern decor, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city lights below.

Aventurine is leaning against the wall by the window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He turns as you enter, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

"I wasn't sure if you'd actually show," he says, his voice a low purr. "But I'm glad you did."

You close the door behind you, turning to face him fully. "And miss an opportunity like this? Not a chance."

He pushes off the wall, closing the distance between you with a few easy strides. "Opportunity for what, exactly?" he asks, his gaze roaming over your features with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

You meet his eyes boldly, refusing to be intimidated. "For whatever you have planned," you say, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart.

Aventurine's lips curve into a smirk, his hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw with a feather-light touch. "Careful what you wish for," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your skin. "You might just get it."

Your pulse races at his touch, desire and anticipation coiling tightly in your belly. "Promises, promises," you breathe, tilting your head into his palm.

His answering chuckle is dark and full of promise. "Oh, I always keep my promises," he says, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

And then his lips are on yours, hot and demanding, and you're lost in the taste and feel of him, the world falling away until there's nothing but the two of you, caught up in a dance.

You melt into the kiss, your hands coming up to tangle in Aventurine's hair, pulling him closer as you press your body against his. He responds eagerly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours.

He tastes of whiskey and sin, and you can't get enough. Your fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest beneath your palms. He groans into your mouth, his hips pressing forward to grind against you, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.

"Bedroom," he rasps against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

You nod, breathless and wanting, allowing him to lead you towards the bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind you, then spins you around, pinning you against it with his body. His hands are everywhere, slipping under your clothes to stroke heated skin, his mouth trailing fire along your neck.

"You're so fucking sexy," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "I've wanted this since the moment I saw you."

Your breath hitches as Aventurine's hands roam your body, his touch setting your skin ablaze with desire. You arch into him, craving more, needing to feel every inch of him against you.

He groans, low and primal, his hips grinding harder against yours. His hands slip under your shirt, pushing it up and off, leaving you bare from the waist up. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes dark with lust.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts. He leans down, his mouth hot against your skin as he kisses a trail down your sternum, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipple.

You gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. "Please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for, only knowing that you need more, need him.

He chuckles, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Patience, love," he purrs, his hands sliding down to pop the button of your jeans. "We've got all night."

And then he's on his knees in front of you. He looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes hooded and full of promise.

"Let me taste you," he murmurs, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your jeans.

You nod mutely, your heart pounding in your chest as Aventurine slowly slides your jeans down your legs, his hands caressing your skin as he goes. He tosses them aside carelessly, leaving you in nothing but your panties, which are already damp with arousal.

He leans forward, his breath hot against your panties. "You're so wet for me already," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the damp spot. "I've barely touched you, and you're dripping."

You squirm under his touch, desperate for more. "Please," you whimper, your hands fisting in his hair. "I need..."

"Shh," he soothes, placing a kiss over your clothed pussy, licking a stripe along your covered slit. "I know what you need. Just relax and let me take care of you."

And then he's pulling your panties aside, his fingers stroking through your slick folds. You gasp, your hips bucking into his touch. He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin.

"So responsive," he praises, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. "I can't wait to taste you."

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds, lapping at your essence. You cry out, your head falling back against the door as waves of pleasure crash over you.

He works you skilfully, his tongue alternating between broad strokes and targeted flicks against your clit. His fingers join in, pumping in and out of you, curling to hit that spot inside that makes you see stars.

Your legs tremble as Aventurine's skilled mouth works you over, his tongue delving deep, lapping at your essence. The pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your core, threatening to snap at any moment.

"Aventurine," you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair, pressing his face harder against your aching pussy. "I'm... I'm going to-"

He moans in response, the vibrations sending you hurtling over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, your vision whiting out as ecstasy consumes you. You grind against his face, riding out the waves of pleasure, his name a broken cry on your lips.

He doesn't stop, prolonging your climax, his fingers and tongue working in tandem to wring every last drop of pleasure from your body. Finally, you collapse back against the door, boneless and sated, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Aventurine rises, his face glistening with your arousal. He licks his lips, his eyes dark with hunger. "So sweet," he purrs, his voice rough. "I could do that forever.”

You can only moan in response, your body still thrumming with aftershocks. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He takes your hand, leading you to the bed, pushing you down onto the plush mattress. He crawls over you, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the sheets.

"I need to be inside you," he growls, his hips grinding against yours, letting you feel the hard length of him through his pants. "I need to feel you wrapped around me, squeezing me.”

You reach down, fumbling with the button of his pants, desperate to free his cock. He helps you, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to spring free, his erection bobbing against your stomach.

"Please," you whimper, wrapping your hand around him, stroking the velvety soft skin. "I need you, too. I need to feel you stretch me, fill me."

He groans, his hips thrusting into your hand. "Fuck, you're killing me," he pants, reaching down to position himself at your entrance.

With a single, powerful thrust, Aventurine pushes his cock all the way inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as your body struggles to adjust to his size. He stills, giving you a moment to acclimate, his forehead resting against yours.

"Breathe," he murmurs, his hips flexing slightly, sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Just breathe, love. I've got you."

You take a shuddering breath, your inner walls fluttering around him. Slowly, you begin to move, rocking your hips against his, urging him deeper. He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to thrust, setting a slow, deep rhythm.

"You feel incredible," he pants, his lips brushing against your ear. "I could stay buried inside you forever and die happy."

You clench around him, relishing the feel of him stretching you, filling you. "More," you demand, your nails digging into his back.

He laughs breathlessly, complying with your request, his hips snapping against yours with increased force. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

Aventurine's thrusts grow more erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp pants as he nears his peak. His hands grip your hips bruisingly, holding you in place as he pounds into you, the force of his thrusts pushing you up the bed.

"Come with me," he demands, his voice a guttural growl. "I want to feel you come undone around my cock."

Your body tenses, your inner walls fluttering around him as your orgasm approaches. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he finds his release.

The feel of him coming inside you is enough to push you over the edge. You cry out, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows you, his hips jerking as he spills his cum deep within you.

You collapse back against the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Aventurine follows suit, laying down beside you. He leans over peppering your face with soft kisses, his hands stroking your hair, your back, your sides. "You’re beautiful" he murmurs, his voice soft with satisfaction.

You smile, turning your head to capture his lips in a tender kiss. "You're not so bad yourself," you tease, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his sweat-slicked skin.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours. "I aim to please," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "And I'm not done with you yet, love. Not by a long shot."

You shiver at the promise in his words, your body already stirring with renewed desire. "Is that so?" you ask, arching an eyebrow. "And what exactly did you have in mind?" 

His grin is wicked, his eyes gleaming in the low light. "Oh, I think you'll find out soon enough.”

༉ - 2.8k

Topaz’s flat was warm and inviting, the perfect spot to unwind for a casual evening. Soft amber light spilled across the room, casting a cosy glow  that made the space feel like home. Somewhere in the background, faint music played  that blended perfectly with the gentle clinking of glasses and low chatter.

“We’ll be right back,” Aventurine called out, with Topaz trailing close behind as they disappeared toward the kitchen.

You had settled comfortably into the corner of the sofa, a glass of wine in hand and Veritas lounging beside you. Tonight, he seemed different—relaxed in a way you rarely saw. His shirt was unbuttoned, his tie discarded, and his usually immaculate hair slightly mussed, as though he’d finally let the weight of the day slip away.

The air between you buzzed with the kind of easy familiarity that only came with years of friendship, though tonight there was something else–.

“Another top-up?” Veritas asked, his voice smoother and slower than usual as he reached for the wine bottle on the low table. Without waiting for an answer, he topped off your glass and then poured more into his own.

“You’re a terrible influence,” you teased, though you made no move to stop him. “If I wake up with a headache tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”

He smirked, swirling his wine with an air of mock innocence. “I’d argue it’s your fault for being such agreeable company.”

The words lingered, their meaning sharper than his usual dry humour. You glanced down at your glass, suddenly unsure what to say. Was it the wine, or was there something more in his tone tonight?

“Quiet now, are we?” he teased, leaning in just slightly. “You’re usually quicker with a retort.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “Just giving you a moment to bask in your supposed wit.”

His chuckle was low and warm, the kind of sound that settled somewhere deep in your chest. His knee grazed yours, a light touch that didn’t feel accidental. When you shifted slightly, his arm brushed against yours and lingered, just enough to make you wonder if he’d noticed it too.

“I’ve always admired that about you,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Admired what?” you asked, your pulse quickening.

“You have this way of making even the most tedious conversations feel alive.” His eyes softened, and for a moment, he wasn’t the sharp, collected man you knew so well. “Though I don’t think this moment qualifies as tedious, does it?”

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No. It doesn’t.”

Neither of you moved for a moment. His hand found yours, his fingers warm and steady, and though the gesture caught you off guard, you didn’t pull away. His thumb traced slow circles over your skin, sending a rush of heat up your arm.

“Veritas—” you began, but your voice faltered.

“Too much?” he asked gently, his brows drawing together, as if he was ready to let go at the slightest hint of hesitation.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Not too much.”

His shoulders relaxed, and the faintest trace of a smile appeared on his lips. He shifted closer, his arm sliding along the back of the sofa until his fingers brushed your shoulder. The scent of his cologne—something crisp with a faint warmth beneath it—lingered in the space between you, making your head swim.

The world beyond the sofa seemed to fade. His presence filled the room, his thumb still tracing light, deliberate circles on your hand. When his fingers grazed your neck, their touch feather-light, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you.

“You’ve gone quiet again,” he murmured, his tone both teasing and earnest. “Should I be worried?”

You turned to face him, and suddenly his face was so close to yours. His gaze locked onto yours, and your breath hitched. It felt impossible to look away.

“Not worried,” you managed softly. “Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous,” he quipped, though his voice held less humour now. His hand shifted, brushing along the curve of your jaw. His touch was barely there, yet it lit up every nerve. “Care to share?”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t know what to say, but because the words carried weight. “I was thinking,” you said slowly, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart, “that you don’t seem as restrained as usual tonight.”

A flicker of something—surprise, maybe—passed across his face before he smirked. But it wasn’t his usual teasing smirk; it was softer, quieter, like he didn’t want to scare the moment away. “Restraint,” he murmured, “has its time and place. And this… doesn’t feel like one of them.”

The charged silence between you was almost unbearable. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you plenty of time to stop him, but you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was gentle and tentative, like he was testing the waters. It was fleeting, yet it left your heart racing. His hand slipped to your jaw, steady and warm as he kissed you again, this time with more certainty.

You melted into him, your hands coming to rest against his chest. His heartbeat was fast beneath your palms, and when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“We should…” His voice was rough now, laced with restraint. “Move somewhere more private.”

Your heart jumped at the suggestion, and you nodded, your voice barely audible. “Yeah.”

He stood smoothly, his hand slipping into yours as he cast a quick glance toward the kitchen. When he was sure your friends were still out of sight, he guided you down the hallway. His touch was firm, grounding, but there was a tenderness in the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles.

At the end of the hall, he paused outside a closed door. His free hand found the handle, turning it slowly. The hinge creaked softly as he pushed the door open, revealing the spare bedroom. He guided you inside, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The room was small but cosy, with a large window that let in a silver glow.

Veritas turned to face you, his expression a blend of uncertainty and desire. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "We can stop if you want to."

His words were sincere, giving you an out if you needed it. But the way his eyes roamed over your face, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours, betrayed his own longing.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "I'm sure," you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your palm, and you marvelled at the softness of his stubble against your fingers.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. When he opened them again, they were dark with want.

He captured your mouth in a searing kiss. It was nothing like the tentative brush of lips from earlier. This time, there was no holding back. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat of his body through your clothes, the firmness of his muscles.

You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. He tasted of wine and something uniquely him - a flavour you knew you'd crave forever. His tongue teased your lower lip before delving into your mouth, exploring and claiming with a passion that left you breathless.

Slowly, he walked you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he looked down at you. "Tell me you want this," he breathed, his hands settling on your hips. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

The words were a plea, a confession. In this moment, the usually composed and controlled Veritas Ratio was laid bare before you, vulnerable and wanting. Your heart swelled with affection and desire.

"I want this," you whispered, your hands sliding up his chest to link behind his neck. "I need you. Please, Veritas..."

His name on your lips seemed to break the last of his restraint. With a groan, he kissed you again, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.

It wasn’t long before Veritas' fingers deftly worked at the zipper on his trousers, his movements quick yet precise, revealing the bulge straining against his underwear. With a deft tug, he freed his cock, the hard length springing forth, already flushed and throbbing with need.

He stepped back slightly, giving you a moment to take in the sight of him. Moonlight spilled across his body, highlighting the contours of his muscles, the defined lines of his abs. His cock was long, with a prominent vein on the underside.

You wasted no time, sinking to your knees before him. The plush carpet cushioned your knees, but you barely noticed. His cock jutted out, hard and proud, the tip glistening with pre-cum in the moonlight.

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for him, fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft. He was hot and heavy in your grasp, the skin velvety soft over the rigid flesh beneath. You stroked him slowly, savouring the weight of him, the way he twitched and throbbed against your palm.

Veritas groaned, his head falling back as he savoured your touch. "God," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "Feels so good-”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, stoking the fire building in your core. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. The taste of him exploded across your tongue, salty and musky, uniquely him.

Emboldened, you took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. He was big, filling your mouth completely, but you revelled in it. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head.

"Fuck," Veritas gasped, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Just like that, baby. Take me deeper."

You obeyed, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward, taking him inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you held him there, your nose pressed against his pelvis, breathing in his scent.

Veritas’ grip on your hair tightened, his hips rocking forward slightly. "God, sweetheart," he moaned, his voice strained. "You're incredible."

The praise washed over you, spurring you on. You bobbed your head, setting a steady rhythm as you worked him with your mouth. Your hands slid down to cup his balls, rolling them gently in your palm.

Veritas' hand cupped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you further down his shaft. "That's it, baby," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take all of me."

You complied eagerly, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward until your nose nestled against his pelvis. The scent of him filled your senses, musky and intoxicating. You held him there, savouring the weight of him on your tongue, the way he throbbed against your palate.

"God, beautiful-" Veritas gasped, his hips rocking forward slightly. "You're so good at this. So fucking perfect."

His words sent a thrill through you, stoking the heat building in your core. You pulled back slowly, letting him slide from your mouth with a lewd pop. Strings of saliva connected your lips to his cock, glistening in the moonlight.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative. "I want to see you get off while you suck my cock."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you didn't hesitate. Your hand slid beneath your skirt. You were already soaked, your panties clinging to your skin.

You circled your clit with your fingertip, gasping at the jolt of pleasure that shot through you. Ratio watched with hooded eyes, his cock twitching in your grip.

"That's it, baby," he urged, his hand guiding your head as you took him back into your mouth. "Make yourself feel good. I want to hear you moan around my cock."

You obeyed, increasing the pressure of your fingers as you sucked him deeper. Your other hand came up to fondle his balls, rolling them gently in your palm. The combined sensations were overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second.

Veritas’ breath came in short, sharp gasps as you worked him with your mouth and hands. His cock throbbed against your tongue, the veins along the shaft pulsing with need. You could tell he was getting close, his hips rocking faster, his grip on your hair tightening.

Suddenly, he pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. "As much as I love your mouth," he panted, his eyes dark with lust, "I need to be inside you."

You nodded eagerly, your heart racing at the thought. He helped you to your feet, his hands roaming over your curves appreciatively. With a swift motion, he pushed your skirt up around your waist and tugged your panties down your thighs.

Veritas gently pushed you back onto the bed, his eyes roaming over your body with undisguised hunger. "Always been so pretty" he murmured, his hands skimming up your thighs to your hips.

He settled between your legs, the heat of his body seeping into your skin. You could feel his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come. Slowly, he pushed forward, stretching you open around him.

You gasped at the sensation, your back arching off the bed. He was so big, filling you completely. He gave you a moment to adjust before starting to move, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder.

His words sent shivers down your spine, stoking the fire building in your core. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He obliged, his thrusts growing harder, faster.

The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful stroke. Veritas' hands gripped your hips, his fingers leaving bruises on your skin. But you didn't mind the pain, not when pleasure was coursing through your veins like liquid fire.

Despite the intense sensations coursing through your body, you bit your lip, muffling your moans and gasps. The thought of Aventurine and Topaz hearing you in the other room was enough to keep you silent, even as Veritas’ thrusts grew harder, deeper.

He seemed to sense your restraint, his eyes locking with yours in the darkness. "Don't hold back," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I want to hear you.”

You shook your head, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You couldn't risk it, couldn't bear the thought of your friends walking in and catching you in such a compromising position.

Veritas frowned slightly, but he didn't push the issue. Instead, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, swallowing your silent cries of pleasure.

His hips never stopped moving, each thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your body. You could feel your climax building, getting closer to the edge. He seemed to sense it too, his pace quickening, his breath coming in harsh pants against your ear.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Let go. I've got you."

His words were your undoing. With a muffled cry, you came undone, your body convulsing beneath him as you gushed around his cock. Veritas quickly pulled out, his cum shooting out and splattering on your folds.

You lay there in the aftermath, your chest heaving, your limbs trembling. He  collapsed on top of you, his weight a welcome comfort.

Slowly he rolled off you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He pulled you close, your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his heart racing, matching the pounding of your own.

He kissed your shoulder softly. "We should probably get cleaned up and head back out there," he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. "Before Aventurine and Topaz come looking for us."

You nodded, leaning in to kiss him one last time before reluctantly pulling away from his warmth.

༉ - 2.5k

The training grounds hummed with the steady rhythm of swords meeting swords, the sharp ring of steel echoing in the air. You were lost in the rhythm, your every move precise as you worked through the drills Jing Yuan had set for you.

The weight of the training session was starting to catch up with you—your muscles burning, sweat trickling down your back—but you refused to stop. His gaze was always on you, but today, there was something about it that made your heart race a little.

Jing Yuan was a study in effortless grace, each movement fluid and controlled as he parried your strikes. His hair shimmered in the sunlight. His composure was unmatched—he never seemed to break a sweat, even when you were struggling to keep up. And yet, his every motion felt like a reminder that you still had so much to learn.

“You’re improving,” he said suddenly, his voice a smooth, unwavering contrast to the intensity of the training. He dodged your strike so easily it was as if he already knew it was coming. “But you’re still too tense. Stop thinking so much- Let your instincts take over.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words. You couldn’t quite explain it, but his praise always felt so... personal. It was like he wasn’t just teaching you how to fight; he was seeing something deeper. And you hated how giddy that made you feel.

The practice continued, but with each passing moment, it became harder to focus. Every glance he gave you seemed to leave you a little more flustered, his every compliment a spark that made your heart flutter. You tried to shake it off, to stay in the moment, but your movements became a little less fluid.

“That’s better,” he said again, his eyes narrowing as he watched you catch your breath. “You have the power. You just need to learn to channel it.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your skin. It wasn’t that you weren’t good at sword fighting, but when Jing Yuan spoke to you like that, it felt different. His words were a quiet evaluation, but they made your heart feel exposed, as though he was seeing right through you.

Minutes blended together in a haze of quick movements and hurting muscles. The sweat on your forehead trickled, and you could feel the strain in your arms and legs, but you pushed yourself harder, determined not to disappoint him. Finally, when the session was over, you dropped your sword, your breathing heavy.

"That's enough for today," Jing Yuan said, his voice quiet yet imperative as he stepped toward you. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the fatigue in your eyes, the way you were trying to steady your breathing. "You have worked hard.

You managed a small smile, though the weight of the session left you feeling drained. "I'm fine," you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. You weren't sure if you were convincing anyone, least of all him.

He studied you a moment longer, his sharp eyes picking up the subtle signs: the way you were holding your breath, the way your hands trembled ever so slightly. With a soft sigh, he leaned in closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. The touch was light, but it sent a ripple of warmth through you, and you couldn't quite keep the flutter from your chest.

"Let me check you over-" he said, his voice dropping an octave soft yet purposeful. "make sure you're not hurt."

The words should’ve been routine, should’ve been just another part of the training, but the closeness between you, the way his gaze lingered a little longer than usual, made everything feel different. His touch was so careful as he ran his hands over your arms, your shoulders, your ribs—light and methodical, almost as if he were memorising every detail of you. Each brush of his fingers sent sparks through your skin, and you had to force yourself to breathe normally.

“Does this hurt?” His fingers pressed against a sore spot near your ribs where you'd taken a hit earlier.

You gasped softly, the breath catching in your throat, before shaking your head. "It's a little sore.

His eyes softened, a glint of concern in them as he regarded you, yet there was something else, too-something more than mere mentorship. The air between you grew thick with unspoken tension, not exactly teacher and student, but something else entirely. His presence overwhelmed you; the way he watched you-also so intense-made it even harder to think clearly.

Before you could catch yourself, your fingers grazed his chest-just the lightest touch, but it felt like an electric jolt went through you. The space between you contracted, and the pull you'd been fighting became too much. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were leaning in, your lips brushing against his in a fleeting, impulsive kiss.

The world seemed to stop for that second, and then Jing Yuan froze. His body stiffened, and for a second you thought you'd made a terrible mistake. But when he pulled back, his expression wasn't anger or confusion-it was soft, searching. His gaze lingered on your face, as if he were trying to understand the emotions swirling there.

You stepped backward in haste, heat flooding your face as you muttered, "I- I didn't mean-"

But before you could get the words out, his hand was cupping your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. His thumb stroked your skin with soft gentleness-a motion that made your heart thud. "Don't apologise," he said, his voice soft, low-assuring. "You don't have to be sorry."

The air between you seemed to thicken with the weight of the moment. Jing Yuan leaned in just slightly, giving you space to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t. You stood there, your heart racing in your chest, the tension building with each breath you took.

“I think…” he began, his voice a little quieter, “you’re not the only one who’s been holding back.”

Your breath caught in your throat. That was all he needed to say, and in that moment, the world around you seemed to fall away. The spark between you wasn’t one-sided. And maybe this was the beginning of something neither of you had expected.

Slowly, hesitantly, you reached up to cover his hand with your own, pressing it more firmly against your cheek. "Then what’s stopping us?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jing Yuan's eyes darkened at your words, a flash of hunger in their depths. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.

You nodded, your eyes locked on his, unable to look away. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

With those words, Jing Yuan closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate, desperate kiss. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you.

You melted into him, your arms winding around his neck as you kissed him back with equal fervour. The world spun around you, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of his lips on yours, the scent of his skin, the sound of his ragged breathing.

You felt yourself being pulled into Jing Yuan's embrace, your bodies pressing together as the kiss deepened. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your head spin, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passion that left you breathless. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as you lost yourself in the sensation of his touch, his taste, his very essence.

Time seemed to stand still, the rest of the world fading away until there was nothing but the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms. Jing Yuan's hands roamed over your back, your sides, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. You arched into him, craving more of his touch.

Jing Yuan broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was a flicker of concern there too. "We should move somewhere more private," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "There are too many prying eyes here."

You nodded, your heart still racing as you glanced around the training grounds. He was right. Anyone could stumble upon you like this, could see the way you were clinging to each other, the way your lips were swollen from his kisses. The thought sent a thrill through you, even as it filled you with a sense of urgency.

Jing Yuan took your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours as he led you away from the training grounds. You followed him willingly, your steps quick and eager, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of his touch. He led you through the winding paths of the gardens, past flowering bushes and babbling fountains, until you reached a secluded grove hidden behind a curtain of willow branches.

As soon as you were out of sight, Jing Yuan pulled you into his arms once more, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your hands fisting in his hair as you kissed him back. His hands roamed over your body, slipping beneath your clothes to caress the heated skin beneath.

Your hands fumbled with the fastenings of Jing Yuan's robes, your fingers shaking with a mix of anticipation and nerves. He helped you, his own hands working to remove your clothing with a practised ease that belied his gentle touch. Soon, the fabric fell away, leaving you both bare in the dappled sunlight filtering through the willow branches.

Jing Yuan's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze appreciative as he drank in the sight of you. "You're beautiful," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. His hands skimmed over your curves, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Your fingers trailed over the hard planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his abdomen, marvelling at the feel of his skin beneath your palms.

Jing Yuan groaned at your touch, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You could feel his cock, hot and insistent against your stomach, and it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. Your own body responded in kind, aching and throbbing with a need that was almost painful in its intensity.

His lips found your neck, his teeth nibbling, and tongue leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your pulse point. You tilted your head back, giving him better access, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you lost yourself in the sensation. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you harder against him, the friction delicious and maddening all at once.

"Jing Yuan," you gasped, your voice breathy and needy. "Please..."

His response was to lift you up, wrapping your legs around him as he carried you. Jing Yuan pressed you against the cool stone wall of the garden, his body pinning you in place as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. Your legs tightened around his waist, drawing him closer, craving more of his touch.

He held you up with one arm as the other delved lower, his fingers finding your pussy. You were already wet, your body ready for him, and he groaned at the feeling. "So ready for me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "So perfect."

His fingers circled your clit, teasing and stroking, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You rocked your hips against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. Jing Yuan obliged, his fingers sliding lower to dip inside you, stretching you, preparing you for what was to come.

You could feel him, hard and heavy, pressing against your entrance. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, your body trembling with need. "Please," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you."

Jing Yuan's eyes met yours, "I've got you," he promised, his voice low and husky. And with that, he pushed forward

Jing Yuan’s cock pushed inside you slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your face for any sign of discomfort. You could feel every inch of him as he stretched you, filled you, your body adjusting to his size. It was a delicious burn, a sweet ache that only made you want more.

"Dove," he breathed, the pet name a reverent whisper on his lips. His hips pressed forward, burying himself deeper inside you, and you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped. "So tight," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips for support. "So perfect."

You clung to him, meeting his thrusts. The pleasure was immense, overwhelming, and you could feel yourself already teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Jing Yuan's thrusts grew harder, faster, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he lost himself in the feel of you.

His thrusts grew more urgent, more demanding, as he lost himself in the heat of the moment. His hips slammed against yours, driving into you with a force that had you seeing stars. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

Jing Yuan's lips found yours again, swallowing your moans as he drove into you harder, deeper. His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, circular motions. The added stimulation was too much, and you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of pure, blinding ecstasy.

"Atta girl," Jing Yuan growled, his voice strained with his own impending release.

Your walls clenched around him, milking his length as you rode out the aftershocks of your climax. Jing Yuan followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he found his own release. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he emptied himself inside you, ropes of cum spilling inside you.

As the final waves of your shared ecstasy subsided, Jing Yuan held you close, his body still intimately connected with yours. He peppered your face with soft, tender kisses, his hands gently stroking your hair and caressing your back. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the heated passion that had just consumed you both.

"Think that was a good training session" he joked, his voice low and content.

You couldn't help but laugh, a breathless, giddy sound that bubbled up from your chest. "I think that was the best training session I've ever had," you replied, your words laced with a mix of humour and sincerity.

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

© lovesculprit → do not copy or translate any of my works

[wosofutbolfan]

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R

8.5k Fluff, Fun, Minor Angst

Hi Guys,

This is pt4. in the 'I Would Climb Every Mountain With You" otherwise known as Explorer!R Universe. TW: description of killing an animal.

Highly recommend you read those 3 first, as this is entrenched in lore. Pt 1 can be found here.

It's developed from an ask I received from @karsonromanoff so thank you so much for the idea! I hope I did it justice and I'm sorry for the delay and the words. ha.

This is the first time I've written since my dad died. I'm not being emo or heavy about it but I am asking to please, be kind. I know there's nice people out there but often they're drowned out by the loud haters.

So throw us a comment, like or reblog if you enjoyed. I'm just trying to get back into something that brought me joy. I know I enjoyed writing it.

Also, may be weird for a fic about a spanish gay footballer, but you probably need a good working knowledge of Bear Grylls to understand 80% of this. ha.

As has become tradition, here's the song running though my head when writing! Yes, my music taste remains to be that of someone born in 1962. God love Helen Reddy.

“Vamos Ale! I don’t like to make Miguel wait…” you shout from the kitchen, bag resting on the countertop as you try to fix your bracelet with your left hand,

“Deja de preocuparte, a él no le importa, I will be one minute…” you head called back from the bedroom where your wife had been getting dressed for 2 hours now.

Yes.

Your wife.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe it.

Sometimes the weight of the band on your finger catches you by surprise and you’d remember.

Sometimes Alexia would place her hand on your bare thigh and you could feel the cool metal on your skin and you’d remember.

Sometimes you’d get called “Mrs Putellas” at a school talk, or at the Doctors, and you’d remember.

It felt so natural that sometimes you’d forget that you weren’t always Alexia's wife.

But now you are. And had been for almost 6 months. And married life couldn’t have suited you more.

Your wedding ring was your new favourite accessory, you never took it off.

In a fire you would save Alexia and your ring.

Maybe even your ring first.

It was embossed with the imprint of grass that Alexia has been collecting from each pitch of each game she had played in since you had met. The intricate design brought tears to your eyes as soon as you saw it. Made even worse by the inscription “’cause you are my goal”. 

You would be embarrassed if Alexia hadn’t cried like a toddler when you presented her with the ring you had made for her, which had rock from each of the 7 peaks you had scaled, as well as a granule of sand from the Dead Sea set within it. Integrated into the metal, visible but smooth to the touch. 

The inscription 'every mountain high, every valley low' on the inside of the band.

You knew you’d done good and you knew your Ale well enough to anticipate the absolute mess she would be when presented with it, ensuring you had a pocket full of tissues for the inevitable waterfall.

You weren’t wrong.

You had to assure a passing couple on the trail you had chosen that she was fine, not having a medical incident and you were definitely not mid break-up but in fact exchanging wedding bands early because you knew your fiance well enough she didn’t need her teammates to witness this much of her soft side.

Though you tried, they still saw enough on your wedding day to tease her for the last 6 months with no sign of slowing down.

Though right now your wife's behaviour was nothing but unexpected. You had agreed to attend one of Alexia's events this evening. Since getting married you had felt more of a duty to attend and make up for the years you’d left her carrying her own handbag whilst you trotted over mountains on the other side of the world. 

She insisted that you didn’t have to. Like she always did. You weren’t one for the fancy dresses and the flashing cameras. But you saw the gleam of hope in her eyes as she insisted she would be fine on her own.

You couldn’t let that sparkle dim.

Also you had to set off for a camp in a few days and you had gotten seriously stuck in the honeymoon phase meaning that an evening without your wife by your side wasn’t something you could stomach.

Not that you would admit to being so clingy.

But it wasn’t like Ale to take so long to get ready, neither of you being particularly fussy, usually she would throw on some light makeup, smack your bum whilst you ate nutella off a knife under the hob light, procrastinating getting ready until she dragged you and dropped you into the ensuite, steal a kiss and a spray of perfume, and wait for you whilst watching old football clips in the living room.

But now, as you still struggled to attach the clasp of your bracelet and you had one eye on the poor Barca driver, Miguel, waiting in your driveway, you started to grow frustrated at your wife's sudden vanity.

You smelt her perfume invading your senses as you felt her arms envelope you from behind, moving your uncoordinated left hand away and easily attaching the clasp of your bracelet for you, pressing a kiss to your neck as she did so.

“Finalmente… Let’s g-...” you spoke as you turned in her embrace, finally taking in her attire which stopped you in your tracks.

“Boobs”

You had suddenly turned into a 14 year old boy and you couldn’t explain it.

You had seen your wife naked hundreds of times.

Hundreds of fantastic times.

But here she stood looking, regal. Her hair falling lightly over her face, her dark sparkly dress with wide shoulders and only what you could describe as a boob portal you had been rendered speechless. Mouth gaping open like a fish.

“...Amor?...” you heard the delight in her voice. “Are you listening to me… my eyes are up here.” she jokingly clicked her fingers in front of your face which took you out of your breast-inspired trance.

“Ale you are so beautiful” you looked deeply into her eyes but you didn’t miss the blush rising from her neck. And you meant it. She was. Wow. 

“Do you like it?” she asked, shyly, “You don’t think it’s too much? It’s just the first event we’ve gone to together since we got married and I wanted to…”

You interrupt her but pressing a kiss to her lips, and, well, if you slipped a little tongue in there then fine. She was your wife after all.

“What? Show the world what they're missing out on? I am so proud to stand by your side, my love.” you whispered into her lips, as you toyed with her wedding band. 

You couldn’t help yourself…”and your boobs are fantastic.” 

She barked out a laugh as you leaned back into where you left off, but she took a step back, her heel clicking against the tile floor, to which you let out an annoyed grumble.

“Oi Oi, Mi Amor. What about poor Miguel, he is waiting, Si?” she teased.

“He doesn’t care… Cálla y bésame.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You took a deep breath and leaned back on your chair at the round table you found yourself at. Alexia had been pulled from your side which she had stuck to like glue all evening,  to go and present the final award of the evening which she had just done, very sexily if you do say so yourself. All confident and boob-y.

You smiled, imagining her now making small talk backstage, eyes bored but a smile plastered on her face as she tried to make her way back to your table.

Your other table-mates seemed to take the opportunity of the break in the ceremony to raid the free bar put on by the charity. Which seemed very uncharitable of them. But, as you toyed with the rim of your glass, who were you to judge?

Stomach full from a mediocre-mass produced meal and head happily fuzzy from the bubbles you had consumed you found yourself oddly satisfied as you sat here. In this conference room-turned auditorium in the middle of Barcelona, here, loudly and proudly as Alexia's wife.

Mrs Putellas.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, you felt weirdly grown-up. With your wife, your house, and your business. You blinked and missed yourself becoming so settled and for once in your life you weren’t terrified of the idea.

You saw the glint in Alexia's eye. When Irene and her wife would come round for dinner and bring their kid. She’d surrender all hostess duties and sit on the living room floor, crawling around at the beck and call of whatever imaginary game the 5 year old insisted on. You’d seen her perfect her lion roar in that very spot. It probably matched the glint in yours when you were grocery shopping and a child being pushed in a trolley would go past shoving cookies into the trolley without their Mother seeing.

Maybe, you thought, maybe it was time…

“It is you! I am so sorry to interrupt. I had to come over to introduce myself. I am such a fan…”

You glanced around, expecting Alexia to be standing over your shoulder and smiling politely at the person who had approached your table to meet her… but you were met with blank space and then you engaged your silly brain and realised the person was speaking English and looking at you and…

Oh My God.

It’s Bear Grylls.

“Oh My God. You’re Bear Grylls.” 

You let out. 

Stupidly.

Standing and thrusting your hand out like an idiot to your legitimate childhood hero.

You and your brother would watch his series for hours as children. Sat cross-legged 2 inches from the TV on your living room floor, eating up every second of his adventures. Your mum had to stop you from eating a woodlouse once in your garden because you’d seen him eat a cricket in the Amazon the evening before. Your brother smacked upside the head for trying to drink a cup of his own wee for the same reason.

Now you were a well-seasoned adventurer yourself you knew that all of that was for theatricks. 

You had spent more than 7 weeks wandering the Amazon yourself once, and not one drop of urine passed your lips. Not one 8 legged insect had you gulped down in one.

But still.

Hero.

He took your hand graciously, as you both sat back down you prepared to barrage him with questions but before you could he jumped right in…

“I have been wanting to meet you for years. But my team said you had disappeared off to Spain and couldn’t be tracked down. Please, I've been desperate to know. .. Tell me all about summiting Orjas del Salado…”

So you told him, and you asked him about his adventures, and you chatted for what could have been hours, sharing stories and advice with Bear-fucking-Grylls.

He blushed as you pointed out his for-TV tricks and you thanked him for being a portal into the wider world from your living room.

At some point you felt Alexia return, a strong hand on your shoulder. You paused your monologue about Patagonia and giddily took her hand in yours, introducing them to each other. 

Polite pleasantries exchanged you could tell she had legitimately no idea what was going on or who this middle-aged English guy at your table was, but judging from your excited eyes, she didn’t need to interrupt.

It didn’t take too long for someone from his team to pull him away for an interview with the charity. But as you stood to say your goodbyes he made an offer, “You know, me and the production company are making a special about survival in the Alps… I would love for you to be a guest star.”

You stood there like a gaping fish for a moment. “Really?” you asked, in wonder, your 7 year old self spinning around in glee in your chest. Alexia smiling up at you from her chair at the joy in your voice.

“Of course! I would be honored, it’s especially about how to survive in an Avalanche situation. Obviously, with what happened in Nepal…you are an expert in that fie…”

At that point, Alexia stopped her polite silence she had been maintaining whilst you had your moment with your childhood hero. And abruptly stood, clutching your hand hard in both of hers, stern look on her face.

“No.”

From the look on his face you gathered that this successful upper-middle class white English man had not been told no too often, and a beat of silence followed which Alexia was more than happy to fill.

“Sorry Señor Oso. She doesn’t do snow now. Thank you for the offer though.”

She said it with such finality that even you didn’t think to question it. Her mis-translation brought a smile to your face. Her hands still encompassed yours, her eyes didn’t leave his face. As though daring him to rebuff her.

He looked at you as though to confirm she could answer for you. Of course she could. But you knew this refusal wasn’t just about you, but about her also. You knew the anxiety it would cause her for you to put yourself in that situation wasn’t worth anything on this planet.

Nevermind the trauma it would dredge up for you. So obviously, you agreed.

“Sorry Mr Grylls. Not my rodeo anymore. I’ve got some contacts though who you could work with” you politely confirmed your refusal and felt Alexias hands lessen their grip on yours in relief.

“No, no, of course. Sorry. But no. I would really love for you to be involved in the series. We have an episode about promoting women in outdoor pursuits. It's still on the drawing board, but if you are interested I’ll get our people to liaise with each other!”

“That sounds amazing but… I don’t have any people for you to…”

“Don’t be silly Mi Amor” Alexia interrupts again, hand still in yours and the other expertly reaching into her clutch and pushing a card into his outstretched hand… “We have people. Please, Oso, be in touch.”

Smiling vaguely and confusedly at your wife, still clearly mildly terrified of her, he takes the card as he's dragged away by his handler. He's probably still in hearing distance as you squeal in glee and throw yourself into your wife's arms, making her spin with the momentum.

“Ale, Ale, Ale!!! Do you know who that was….” you exclaim.

She can’t help but laugh aloud at your antics, soft look on her face as she lifts you lightly off the ground to stop your spin.

“Si Mi Amor, ese era el hombre oso de la televisión. Tu favorito.” she replies with a smile on her face, speaking softly, somehow, in the middle of this event where she was the guest star, making you feel as though you were the only person in the universe.

“No.” you corrected “..eres mi favorito.” You sealed your words with a light kiss to her lips, chaste but warm.

“Ah, Si. And you have had some wine. You always get soft after wine.” she lightly rolls her eyes with affection at your gushing over her.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you pull her into a soft sway, your childhood hero quickly forgotten now you’re in the company of your wife.

Though the giddiness in your bones from your encounter remains.

“Si the wine.” you agree moving your lips close to her ear as you whisper, breath dancing against her cheek, your hand moves to her chest and you feel her breath falter at your closeness,

“but also your boobs.” and you quickly poke her exposed chest between her breasts before she can stop you, and you move away from her pulling her behind you as you rush off to the bar.

“Amor!” she cackles.

“Vamos Ale! A La Barra!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Estoy Muerta.”

You grumble in complaint into the chest of the warm and moving pillow that you had clearly settled on in the night.

“Shh Ale.”

“Me estoy muriendo y a mi esposa no le importa.”

“You are not dying Ale. You are hungover and over 30”, you mumble in reply, moving away from resting on her chest, the heat becoming too much for your own fuzzy brain.

“Explain to me how that is different.” she doesn’t take kindly to your light chuckle in reply, as you move your hand to cover your eyes from the sunlight starting to bleed through the curtains.

You peek an eye open and see the remnants of your previous night strewn across the bedroom floor.

You take in the glorious dress of your wifes thrown across your chest of drawers. You recall unzipping it with your mouth after making very good use of the boob portal. Much to Alexia's delight.

You had probably taken it a little bit too far at the bar. Your giddiness let your binge-drinking brit out a little too much.

You had a flash of memory at dancing on a table at a dive bar in the town centre, before being brought down by Alba who you had called and demanded come and dance the night away.

Meanwhile Alexia had been in the corner trying to drunkenly explain to Mapi a set of complicated tactics that they should try out at an additional training session in the morning.

“I thought you had scheduled extra training today Ale” you teased after taking in her pasty complexion as you rolled over and settled back down onto your, cooler, side of the bed.

“I hate you.” she replied, quite seriously, as she moulded herself against your back, taking your hand in hers and burying her face into the back of your neck.

“Of course you do, dear, it feels like it.” you tease again, wiggling yourself and making her grumble again.

You rest there for a few moments, before you’re dragged onto your back again and pulled into Alexia's embrace as she moves you around like her own personal teddy bear.

You go with the flow, quite used to your wife's clingy nature, especially when she didn't feel well.

But your silence doesn’t last two minutes before she rolls you over again, now onto your back, “Oh bloody hell, where are we going now.” you mumble, as she rests her head on your chest this time, nuzzling into your breasts.

“me estoy poniendo cómodo.” she mutters into your bosom, “allá. ahora estoy cómodo”. You run your hands through her hair, smiling down at your wife who is practically purring at the attention.

“Bebé…”, you make a noise of affirmation.

“Will you…” you know what she wants, and you know she must be feeling bad if she’s asking for attention.

“Si, my love. voy a trenzar tu cabello. One big plait or lots of little ones?”. 

“The tingly ones por favor” she mumbles into your chest. Your heart expands at her adorableness, never quite learning the English for ‘french plait’ they became known as the ‘tingly ones’ in your household, because of the feeling she would get as you plaited her wet hair after a game, hands working through her scalp. 

It brings a smile to your face and you can see the lovesick smile on hers where it is squished against your chest.

You start to section out her hair as she lies still, your ministrations slowly putting her to sleep, working methodically in the quiet morning.

Moving strand over strand in intricate braids, lightly tugging her scalp and undoing when it's not perfect and redoing, giving her an extra scratch to the soft skin behind her ear when you get there, knowing it's her most sensitive spot. Receiving a sleepy purr in satisfaction as your reward.

You hear the animals from the national park outside, feel the sun starting to warm the room around you. Her chest rising and falling against yours hypnotising you further into the moment. You’ve got grand plans, brunch and a walk along the beach in your mind, maybe a lazy afternoon swim, hold on no. Maybe a lazy afternoon skinny dip. Yeah.

That sounds good.

You’ve almost finished tying off the last plait when you are startled back into the moment by the buzzing of your wifes phone on the bedslide table.

You fight back a smile at the groan that is emitted from your fully grown-pro-athlete-wife.  It resembled that of a teenager who’d been asked to clean their room or no dessert. When she doesn’t go to make a move you nudge her shoulder.

“Ale. Ale, your phone."

“No.”

“Yes."

“No."

“C'mon Ale.” you reach across and pick the phone up. “It could be important. It could be your secret wife wondering where you are.”

She rolls off you at your tease, throwing you a glare that resembles more of an angry kitten than anything, “It could not be, she knows where I am. I snuck out whilst you were dancing on the tables in that last bar to make plans for dinner.”

“Ah, Si of course. My mistake.”

She surges up and gives you a completely unnecessary chaste kiss, as though even the joke is too much and she has to confirm she’s kidding. The phone has stopped vibrating against the bedside table and the silence that settles over you both is welcome.

“How are you so okay? I feel like I have been run over by a truck.” she states as she rubs her face, finally sitting up to start the day.

“You are old.

“I am 2 months older than you.”

“Two, very long, months my darling.” you tap her cheek lightly as you move to get out of bed, throwing on one of her oversized t-shirts you find on the floor.

“Seria, how?” she asks again, now sprawling across the space you have vacated.

“I am English. I once did a vodka shot through my eyeball in the park. I was 14.” you state, plainley, eyebrow raised in challenge as she just looks at you, open mouthed.

“Ojalá no hubiera preguntado.” she mutters, as her phone starts to ring again.

“Ale, phone.” you say, just to annoy her.

“¡lo sé!” you hear thrown at you, as you head downstairs to set some food out for Billy-the-Goat, and make a coffee for your dying wife.

Soon after, you feel her presence behind you as you stir her coffee, turning as you feel her hands wrap around your waist and presenting her coffee and she takes it from you as though it's a ballon d’or. She takes a sip before she presses a kiss to your head.

“That was my agent.”

Your heart drops, and you can’t help the petulant whine that leaves your lips.

“No, Ale! I wanted to spend the day together. Try that new brunch place Alba told us about. Have a swim, just be together. Whatever brand needs you can wait. Tell them no, please” you finish your little monologue with a pout, and you feel a childish frustration rise as a laugh teases against her lips.  You don’t get very far when a kiss is pressed against your lips.

“Well that sounds like the perfect hangover cure Mi Amor. Do you not want me to tell you what it is before I tell them no though?” there's something in her taunt, a glint in the eye that makes you think twice as your mouth already wraps around the refusal.

You take a moment too long apparently, and she takes things into her own hands as she clutches her coffee happily and spins around, “I’ll tell them no! Don’t worry Mi Amor…” teasing lilt in her tone. Whatever the news is, it has pulled her from her hangover.

You wait a beat

Another.

“Fine, What is it!” you groan out in defeat, hands raised to the sky, Alexias t-shirt riding high on your thighs as you raise your arms.

Your wife turns and is distracted momentarily by the flesh on display. Before you cough and she remembers what she's supposed to be doing. Coy smile on her face returning.

“That was my agent…” you huff out at her drawing out the anticipation. “Or should I say our agent.” your brow furrows in confusion as she continues… “she has been contacted by a muy interesado oso.”

Realisation starts to dawn on you, memories of the previous night flashing in your mind and you can’t help the grin that forms.

“Si, Mi Amor. It turns out he really meant it. She said they were willing to offer anything to get you on. She’s getting the details now and will contact us again after our day together today to see if you are interested”.

“I am interested!” you exclaim with glee, Alexia throwing her head back in laughter.

“I know Amor, but let's let them sell it to you. You need the details. Though… I am sure it is no more dangerous than ojos de vodka.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hola, love!” you shout into your empty hallway, hands full of groceries, you shuck off your trainers, hearing them thump against the wall as you struggle into the kitchen.

Tonight was the premiere of “Man Vs Woman” , the special episode of your and Bear's adventure. After the offer was made you met with the TV production company via Zoom to go through ideas.

You pretended you didn’t know Alexia was standing just outside the door to your study, listening and clearly deciding if she thought it was too dangerous or not. At least that's what you deduced from her interrupting with a cup of tea every time a particularly hairy idea was mentioned.  

When you brought this up with her you pretended you didn't see her blush creeping up from her neck. Because you’re her wife and it was the wifely thing to do.

The concept was a really cool one. You were excited from the start. The idea was that you and Bear would both be dropped in an inhospitable environment with a map and a knife and nothing else. Neither of you would be told what type of environment but you had assurances in your contract that it wouldn’t involve snow. You had 28 days to get to the muster point. Whoever got there first won.

Simple.

Convincing Alexia it was really cool. Less simple.

“Amor what if there are animals!”

“I know how to avoid dangerous animals. And there will be a medical team on standby,”

“What if you fall and cut yourself on your knife."

“What if you get tackled and break your leg?”

“That's different. What if you lose your map and can’t find your way out and you have to live out there forever”

“I will always find my way back to you.”

“What If-”

“Ale.”

You stopped her rambling with a kiss and when you pulled away you looked deeply in her eyes.

“Que pasa I miss you too much?” eyes wide and vulnerable.

There we go. Her real source of anxiety.

You had spent more time apart than most couples but since you scaled down your travels you had fallen into a sweet domesticity you could admit was a struggle to pull yourself from. 28 days plus the week before to get to the location is longer than you’d like. But it was an adventure of a lifetime. Maybe… maybe your last adventure? The thoughts had been creeping in more and more recently.

Of early mornings chasing more than sunrises, maybe rising due to a baby's babble instead?

You’d made sure that Alexia really knew how much you’d miss her the night before you flew out. On reflection maybe you should have rested your muscles a little more before such a physically demanding month but. Be serious. Look who your wife was. 

You are not God's strongest soldier.

So, off you had gone. Competing against your childhood hero for all of womanhood. And you couldn’t lie. You loved it.

Being blindfolded and dropped in an unknown location was exhilarating. Learning the land as you went, with only a map and a knife in hand it was one of the biggest challenges of your life.

The team had made good on their promise and the tropical rainforest you were in couldn’t be further from a snowy mountain range.

You’d refused to let anything slip to Alexia in the 3 months you’d been back. Lips tightly sealed no matter what she tried. You wanted her to be surprised and watch it in real time with you. In all the games you'd attended since you had to deal with an injured Mapi yapping your ear off whilst you tried to concentrate on the game, probing for hints about if you won, what you won, where you were, if you wrestled a snake, how big was the snake you’d wrestled.

“Maria stop with the snake!” you’d finally snapped during the tense quarter final of the Queen's cup.

Which had worked.

For all of two seconds.

“What did the snake taste like?”

You’d originally planned to go home to England with Alexia to watch the premier with your family. But then a schedule mess-up in the league had meant that Ale had to play in a rescheduled game the day after the premier. It just didn’t work for her to come to England.

She insisted you still go, but you refused. You wanted to watch her game. And you knew she’d need you when the show was on. Even if she didn’t know that yet.

You started to unpack your groceries mindlessly, you’d picked some great snacks for the evenings viewing, you suddenly were hit with how suspiciously peaceful your house was, though, you were sure you’d seen Alexia's car in the drive.

“Ale! Love!, ¡Estoy en casa! Come help me unpack!” You shouted into your empty kitchen, back turned to your living room, you had a few hours before the show was on air, “I got that ice-cream you like! I know it gives you a tummy ache sometimes but don’t worry, I'll rub your tummy how you like afte…”

“Amor!”

You turned around at the panic in her voice, “Wha–”

“SURPRISE!”

Ale stood in your living area, face reddening, surrounded by her closest Barca teammates as well as Mario, his ever pregnant wife and his kids, your mum and brother as well as Eli and Alba. Everyone comically in paper party hats and some lop-sided bunting was up above your couch,

“HOPE YOU BEAT THE BEAR SNAKE!” it read, and you immediately knew who was on the decoration committee.

You jumped in surprise, dropping the ice cream and immediately ran into your mum's open arms, “Mum! You’re here!” you squealed into her neck, hiding the tears that had appeared in her presence.

“I am, love. Alexia literally wouldn’t let us refuse the flight. She pretended she didn’t understand English when we tried to at least pay for it. And you know I have a 265 day streak on duolingo but my accent must need work because she didn’t understand my Spanish.”

You pulled yourself from her neck with a wet laugh and transferred yourself into your wifes open and familiar strong arms. “Aleeee” you whined. She knew you meant thank you. And I love you. And you mean the world to me. But you were too British to do that infront of people.

“You need to stop pretending you don’t speak English when you don’t like what you hear.” you muttered without malice after placing a kiss below her ear.

“I know amor. I love you too. And your family needed to be here for your big moment! You couldn’t miss this with them because of me. And then also. Mapi happened and now we’re having a viewing party! There's a cake!”

“And Ice Cream Ale! Don’t worry, I’ve saved it! Though we don’t want your barriga to hu-” Mapi stands the space you'd just vacated holding up the abandoned and slightly battered carton of ice cream. She's stopped from her gleeful teasing by Ingrid covering her entire face with one big palm.

“We wanted to be here to support you.” Ingrid interrupted her girlfriend, addressing you kindly.

“We all did!” you hear from Alba in the back, already tucking into the buffet set up on the coffee table, paper hat skew-whiff on her head. You have never felt so loved. It was perfect.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, when are you going to tell her you’re ready for them?”

You are brought out of your daydream by Ingrid sidling up to you and addressing you with her familiar soft lilt.

“Huh?”

She doesn’t reply vocally, just nods her head towards your wife, who is currently having a very intense game of 2v2 in your garden with 2 of Marios youngest and Mapi.

The kids little legs making them toddle around after the small ball adorably, Mapi and Ale giving soft touches they would easily catch up with.

You can’t help but laugh out loud as Ale takes Mapi by surprise and takes a shot against her hard, the ball catching her bare thigh in a manner which must have left a sting much to the small Spaniard's disdain.

Her and the two kids start to chase Alexia around the garden, dramatically tackling her as she suddenly becomes some sort of football monster, rolling around and blowing raspberries on their stomachs as Mapi cheers her toddler army on from the sidelines.

You feel another knock against your arm, dislodging your hand which is supporting your head as you lean over the breakfast bar facing the garden. Lovesick looks clearly on your face, going off Ingrid's coy smile.

“You know, barn. Kids. Munchkins…”

“Yeah, Yeah I get it Ingrid…” you steal another look outside at your more-often-than-not-stern wife getting grass stains on her comfy shorts for the entertainment of your best friends' kids, suddenly you feel like being really really honest. You turn to Ingrid with a shy smile of your own, “soon.”

Her face lights up, teeth on display unable to disguise her smile. “Yeah?” she asks, before turning to look towards the garden, “Me too.”

You smile to yourself and drop your head onto the dark haired girl's shoulder, you both taking a moment to watch your partners play with the kids. The moment is ruined by your mum mussing up your hair on her way past,

“Come on Love, we need to wrangle these last-minute spaniards, it starts in 10 minutes!”

She had a point to be fair. A very chaotic 8 minutes later you practically push Eli into her seat on the couch after she tries to get another plate full of food for Mario’s wife, “¡Está llena de Eli! ella esta embarazada no tiene hambre!” you cheekily remind her, your wife looking up at you from her place on the floor with tender eyes.

“And you…” you turn your attention towards her as you make your way to your seat, “get up here.” you demand, patting the empty space next to you.

“I’m bueno down here Mi Amor, me and Bruno can watch from down here.” she insists. the 4 year old of Marios nestled on her stomach, her arms wrapped around his sleeping form where he attached himself to her after being forced back inside.

You hesitate for a moment, not watching to make a scene or be too needy in front of all your closest family and friends, but you knew that Ale would need to be within touching distance of you in the next hour. 

You’re about to make your peace with it when Mario glaces your way. You and Mario have worked together for years. Years before you met Ale and the girls.

You’ve battled more than just bears together. Weeks spent isolated in the mountains. And a bond like that means that you can communicate with just a look.

With just that glance he’s up and pulling his toddler into his own burley arms. Bruno remaining in his deep sleep through the change.

“I’ve got el monstruo Ale. Go sit with your wife."

She doesn’t need any more direction, the small interaction is subtle and missed by everyone, except your brother who sends you an exaggerated puppy dog look.

“Fuck off” you throw at him, finger in the air, quickly grabbed by Alexia, “Hey, I thought you wanted me to sit here!” she teases, sending your brother a wink.

“Stop ganging up on me…!” you’re about to protest further before you’re shushed by Mapi, of all people, sitting on the floor between Ingrid's legs who sits on the couch above her. “It's about to start!”

She has a point, a familiar British accent fills the living room, Spanish subtitles appearing on the bottom of the screen for the Spanish contingent. Bear’s voice is as dramatic as ever, long sweeping scenes fill the screen of intense jungle, a crocodile and an action shot of a snake thrown in for good measure.

“Serpiente!” Mapi shouts, pointing at the screen, before Ingrid hushes her and pulls her back against her legs. 

           “We all know by now that humans are masters of the jungle. But the unanswered question remains. Is it the King, or Queen of the Jungle? Find out tonight in Man V Woman.”

The title fills the screen with a dramatic crescendo of music. Your friends and family whooping as though it's the champions league final. Alexia barely contains her excitement next to you. You had been steadfast in your refusal to tell anyone the outcome.

The next shot is a recognisable one, the sound of trees being hacked with a machete accompanies a close up of a muddy puddle set deep in the jungle, until the water is disturbed by a ever-familiar battered boot stomping in the puddle, blaugrana laces pulled tight, as proudly as ever.

This prompts another wild round of jeering from the crowd around you as the camera pans out and reveals your full profile as Alexia places a loving kiss onto your shoulder, “That's my wife!” she shouts, proudly, making you laugh. 

Bear's voice over continues as you pull Alexia's hand into yours, half pulling her on top of you, she gives you a peculiar look, this being more PDA than you would usually allow in front of your English family, but she goes with it, too full of pride to be worried otherwise.

As the voiceover continues, highlights of your career flash across the screen to introduce you to the audience.

Mountains in Peru, Arctic Explorations, Treks across Siberia, all flash across the screen, mixed in with childhood pictures your mum must have supplied painting a picture of your career so far and your expertise in your career.

The music turns more dramatic as you shift uncomfortably, being the only one to realise in the room what's about to happen.

A picture of you smiling with Arjan at the peak of Everest, ice picks raised proudly in the air. You feel Alexia stiffen on your lap, ever so subtly. Stock footage of snow hurling down a mountain as Bear describes the avalanche you got trapped in.

He gives out stats and figures to heighten the drama… “your chance of survival drops 3% every minute you are trapped after the first 15 minutes… being trapped for 2 days… our guest star did the unthinkable…”

The room is bathed in a white light as the screen changes. Camera shaky and audio changing to the shouts and heavy breaths of whoever the body worn camera is strapped too. “Yahām̐, Yahām̐, she is here!”

The camera catches Arjan digging desperately, it's clear now the camera is strapped to a rescuer on the slopes of Everest, the TV production company having access to the footage through a sister company who were filming a documentary about altitude rescue at the time.

It shakes as the man helps dig, grunts of exertion as the spade digs desperately. A flash of colour and your snow suit is revealed, face pressed up against the rock you had found shelter near.

Arjan clears snow from your face desperately and puts his head close to yours, “She’s breathing!” he pulls you up and your hand, satellite phone frozen in place, falls from the side of your ghostly white face as the camera fades out.

The voiceover continued, explaining the challenge to the audience but the silence continued. Eli glances at her daughter worriedly, every few seconds.

The whole segment couldn’t have lasted more than 32 seconds. But it had felt like time had slowed. You could feel from her placement on you that Alexia hadn’t taken a breath. Her eyes remained wide as she stared at the screen.

There was a heaviness in the room around you. 

Just as you thought the tension couldn’t get any more intense… “That's what Alexia looks like when she visits England for Christmas and mum won’t let us put the heating on.” your brother jokes, awkwardly, a crooked smile on his boyish face. 

The room is silent, your mum hiding a smile behind a hand only you notice. He goes to speak again, probably to apologise when-

Alexias' laugh shocks even you, bubbling up from deep within her chest. She closes her eyes, a stray tear escaping at the pressure. Laugh still rumbling deep in her chest, slowly the room joins in, as though they’ve been given permission, and soon your in a choir of laughing spectators, your brother blushing deep red at the attention.

“Thank you” you mouth to him across the room, as you wrap your hands around your wife, whos body still shakes with the odd giggle.

He tips an imaginary hat at you in return.

Because he is an idiot.

The challenge begins, unhelpfully, with you throwing yourself out of a helicopter into the rainforest, “Oh Dios Mio” she mumbles, heard subtly under Mapis, “Cool!”.

You press your lips against her shoulder again and mutter into her skin; “I am here, I am warm, I am Safe.” Like a mantra, you feel her nod and grip your hand tighter.

The thing about being in the environment completely opposite to an avalanche inducing mountain range, was that it was hot. Hot and wet. The camera follows both you and Bear as you struggle through the elements seperatly, deciding when to camp down and preserve energy and when to try to gain more miles.

Bear goes hard, and Mapi looks up at you aghast as you decide to build a shelter and bunker down for seven days straight. The heat zapping any energy you had.

“What are you doing! It's a race!” she exclaims, to which you laugh and zip your mouth closed with your fingers, cocking an eyebrow at her as she eagerly looks back towards the TV like a small child.

You spend two days collecting water and, seemingly, according to Mapi, wasting time cutting palm leaves and collecting bark to make twine. Meanwhile Bear is hacking down trees, making spears out of sticks and rock and throwing himself at seemingly anything that would give him a bit of protein on the move.

You’ve ridden yourself of most of your clothing due to the heat. Smothering yourself in mud from the riverbank you were camped next to, you explain to the camera its sun-cream qualities and how it’s safer than clothing as it also protects you from dehydration. 

All the while you weave and weave and weave your leaves together, quietly, assuredly.

You explain to the camera; “I am a master weaver. My wife likes it when I plait her hair. Alot. She’s cute. Sorry Ale.” you wink at the camera as your wife groans on your lap and  her teammates start to tease her, “Amor! Why!”

“Now. Let's see how this works!”  you grin and pull up a large basket to the camera.

The screen shows you scantily dressed, boots safely on a rock in the background, in the river, moving twigs into position to make a run for the fish to swim directly into your basket.

You explain the contraception, set some bait and say your goodnights to the camera, crossing your fingers for a full basket in the morning.

Cheerful music begins as the camera fades back into your campfire, fish on a stick roasting and cooking heavenly, your muddied but smiling face coming into view.

“Bear can eat his roaches and drink his wee. I’ll be here with my fish buffet!” You joke, under your shelter, camera panning to tens of fish in your basket waiting to be smoked.

The next scene shows Bear explaining the protein benefits and the unusual flavours of a witchetty grub as he struggles against the rainstorm. 

You chose to travel up the river. Walking along its bed you are able to make more direct progress, but it’s more energy draining wading through water. You have, however, had a relatively strong diet over the last 3 weeks.

The music begins to ramp up. Graphics on the screen showing both of your progress. Bear has made much more progress than you. But struggling physically. He’s developed a terrible case of trench foot but was still making steady progress with his machete.

You’re sitting on the river bed, tending to your basket of smoked fish you’re carrying with you for energy when you suddenly remain completely stock still. Dramatic music begins. Your head raises subtly and then out of nowhere.

“Serpentine!”

A snake strikes at you from the shallows, clearly after your basket, or you, or whatever it can get its fangs in. You react quickly, crouching down to your knees, keeping a low centre of gravity to keep your balance as your right hand reaches into the shallows.

You and the snake strike at the same time, and you throw yourself to the side as you bash a jagged rock against its head.

The next scene shows you taking a mouthful of grilled snake; “Tastes like chicken!” you joke at the camera. Before popping a piece of charred snake skin into your mouth.

Mapi slowly turns around, mouth agape, gobsmacked look on her face. “Snake!” she whispers, in disbelief. “You beat a snake!” You can’t help but laugh and lean over to turn her head back to the TV.

You feel Alexia shudder in your arms.

"I'm never kissing you again" she lies.

“Told you you’d find everything out tonta.”

The map on screen shows the last day of the challenge, Bear's voice over explaining distances to the muster points, as well as geographical challenges. The screen swaps quickly between the two of you, running, climbing and swimming to where you both believed the finish line to be.

You were making good progress, as was Bear.

A close up of a Brazilian flag on the edge of a waterfall.

A close up of you throwing yourself into the river.

Bear gripping a cliff edge and heaving himself up. The camera shows the bottom of the flag pole as he pulls himself up. The camera pans up. And the flagpole is bare.

The screen changes to you.

Standing, still relatively scantily clad in your battered boots, your hiking shorts cut down to short-shorts and thin vest muddied and holey, fish blood staining your arms,holding the flag proudly up in one arm.

The room around you erupts. “She did it!” “¡Jefe de la Jungla!!!!” “I always knew!”, “She killed a snake!”. You find yourself at the bottom of a pile of bodies as Alexia's teammates celebrate in the way they know how. Which is apparently to throw themselves at you in a pile up.

“That's my wife!” Alexia chants proudly from within the pile, laughing gleefully, all earlier angst forgotten.

The screen goes blank, and the image shows you and Bear embracing, laughing as the voiceover continues; “... at least this time. It's a Queen of the jungle… or should I say. La Reina de la Jungla.” Bear quips, as Alexia groans, forever hating her nickname, and the screen cuts to black.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s hours later, many more plates of food, celebration toasts and questions from Mapi about the snake later. That you're finally in the quiet of your bedroom in your wife's arms.

Your mum and brother are set up in the spare rooms and you have all got plans to meet up with the Alexias family at the game tomorrow before going out for a meal.

Your head is settled on her chest as she plays on her phone above you, struggling to calm down from the evening's events, and as usual, struggling to sleep before a game.  You play with her wedding ring on her spare hand. Feeling the cool metal beneath against her warm skin.

You feel her swipe furiously through her phone, getting more agitated as time passes, grumbles that are not-quite words emitting from her chest.

“Hey. Love.” you sit up and pull her phone away. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing.” she replies, bottom lip out in a pout, pulling her phone back into her hand.

“It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Alexia.” you sigh, “We aren't doing this.. What's got you so…” you look down onto her phone and see. Yourself? It's her tiktok open and you see an edit of the show being played over… “Hot Stuff? Ale. What's this?” you glance at the comments section and see a selection from seemingly anon accounts;  

‘I have never understood Alexia more’, ‘I wonder who calls who capi.’ ,‘Capi, your wife's thighs are bigger than yours’.

“Nothing!” she grabs her phone back from your grip… you arch an eyebrow at her which crumbles her resolve in 3…2…

“Fine! It's all over my TikTok.  The comments about you. The fans have made these edits. Of you! All, wet and… muscley and… nearly undressed.”

“And you…don’t… like me wet, and muscled and… naked? Cause, love, I have evidenced otherwis…”

“Shut up! Of course I do but you're mine!”

Oh. Realisation dawns on you and you can’t help but smile.

“Don’t laugh!” she grumbles. “You’re jealous….” you tease in a sing-song voice. “I am not jealous!” she insists, “It's just… tu eres mio! And these people are all looking at you”.

“I am,” you agree, with a smile. “But, love. Try being married to Alexia Putellas. Maybe you’ll keep your shirt on at games now.” you tease, making her smile and roll her eyes.

Eyes softening as you pull her phone from her grip and plug it in for her. Settling back into her chest, nuzzling against the warm skin you find there.

“I am so proud of you.” she whispers into the now dark room, placing a kiss on your head. The moment became more serious and tender.

“I love you” you reply, softly, the moment feels weighted, and you’re not sure what makes you do it. Maybe it's the adrenaline of the evening, having completed your life's ambition, or maybe it's the wine you drank.

Though, really, you know it's because of the images of your lanky wife curling herself onto the rug in the living room because Bruno had decided she was the world's best pillow again. But you can’t stop yourself.

“Ale. I want to have kids with you.”

Her hand stops its movement in your hair and she rushes over to turn the bedside lamp back on.

“Que?” she breathes out. Hands finding their place softly on your cheeks, a look of urgency in her eyes.

“I want us to have kids. Me and you. I want that with you. Is that something you’re ready for?” you whisper, eyes looking deeply into hers.

“En serio?” she asks, as though she's afraid of the answer.

You nod in response. Moving your hand to wipe away the tears that have appeared on her cheeks.

“Sí, Mi Amor. Quiero eso contigo. Mucho.”

You're both smiling too much to kiss, but you make a good go of it anyway. And as you bury yourself into your wife's arms. Hands roaming and adrenaline of a decision made rushing through your body you can't help but think.

This is the beginning of the biggest adventure of your life. 

[itsallmouthwashing]

Tulpar Band AU- Character descriptions/some lore PART 2

Uh okay fellas- I had to use piccrew since I'm bad at art (good thing @living-stain is keeping me fed WOOF) and I'll include some more facts about them! This is part 2 of the Tulpar Band AU character descriptions! (Part 1)

(MAYBE I NEED TO CLARIFY MAYBE NOT BUT THE ART IS DONE MY @living-stain!!!!!!! Please show him some love!!)

JIMMY ZARE- Scream Vocals and Guitar

Learned guitar pretty early in life. His parents would often drop him at the local YMCA and he took an instant interest to making music. One of the instructors there also taught him how to write songs and write music!

That instructor also listened to a lot of metal music! Little Jimmy was fascinated with it and demanded the instructor teach him how to do the monster voice thing. (Instructor learned how, just for him) (Jimmy ate up every bit and even made notes in his journal!)

Has perfect pitch! It drives him crazy sometimes when he hears a sound- any sound- and can immediately know what note it is. Although, sometimes the crew will 'test' him. They'll make random noises and ask to identify it

Music was a great outlet for him, so all of his songwriting is very personal to him and exposing himself was something he had to come to terms with if he wanted to start a band and use his songs

he starts a journal of songs and notes about making music and carries it with him almost everywhere. It's where all of his lyrics are stored, where all of his feelings are stored. They have no place in his heart, so they must be put somewhere else

Started smoking cigarettes at age 9 when he snuck one out of his parent's stash. They caught him, but just gave him his own pack and lighter in response (shitty Jimmy parents that I created, when I get you- Jimmy's parents when I get you-)

Becomes a dealer at the high school but low-key only sells to people he trusts (aka people he knows for sure are stoners and don't want to ruin the one plug that will sell to them)

Curly gets him to stop when they form Tulpar, but Jimmy still gets supplies for the two of them (he doesn't know WHERE Daisuke heard about him still selling, but it leads to Tulpar's full formation so whatever)

Smashed some motherfucker's guitar on their first day of high school. Yes, Jimmy was bragging about having perfect pitch, but he didn't expect so many goddamn kids to want him to tune their guitars for class. So when this kid with too blond hair and a grating fucking accent, he finally had enough, and all the annoyance and impatience came out in a violent swing to the ground with that kid's guitar in hand

GRANT CURLY- Main Vocals and Guitar

Picked up guitar the summer before he moved to America. His freshman year of high school is when he was able to commit the most of his time to practice and learned how to play through school

First day of school had his guitar smashed. He brought his own from home not knowing there would be instruments provided, and the kid who smashed it had to pay Curly and his family himself to replace it (Curly parents could replace it no problem, it wasn't a financial thing. And Curly feels bad about this fact for 0.2 seconds before he's searching for new guitars on the internet)

Always had a knack for singing. His dad was actually in a band when Curly was growing up, and while his dad played drums he loved to sit in on practice and sing along.

Karaoke? What was that blond blur just now? That was Curly getting first in line

Develops an alt style thanks to Jimmy, molds it to a more 'classy' look by wearing button-downs and suit pieces (someone said he looked great in a button-down and he decided it was the only thing he would wear ever)

Jimmy got him hooked on cigarettes during their freshman year of high school. He literally cannot got thirty minuets without a cigarette. He's insecure about the smell that lingers on him, so he also carries a bottle of cologne with him almost everywhere

DAISUKE JUAREZ - Drums and Synth/Keyboard

Had an interest in piano when he was younger and kept up with it as he learned drums at 12

Between piano lessons and school, he played baseball at his after-school care program. He really enjoyed it, playing baseball through middle and high school and eventually getting a scholarship based on his skill! he has to juggle Tulpar and his college baseball career, so sometimes they need to schedule around Daisuke

His parents are stupid rich and have lots of connections in production. Both parents work in Hollywood (as what? Beats me him!)

Daisuke is sent to a new high school when he turns 18 (which is junior year. his parents let him finish the year but send him to a state of his choosing to finish high school and experience life on his own) (yes they spy on him through Swansea)

Clicks with Anya instantly when he find out they both just moved to the state the same year. Quickly finds out she's a little bit of a goody-two-shoes (he changes his)

ANYA MUSUME

Picked up bass when she was 13 when she started listening to music. Honestly, she felt bass was a super underrated instrument (and that it was harder to pick up than other instruments). Her dad bought her first bass!

It's been Anya and her father for as long as she could remember. Her mom stayed behind in their home country (I'll figure it out) as they all planned to move to America, but she never made it to them. She suddenly became ill and passed away. This all happened when Anya was very young, so she has little memory of it. But her father does break down when she names her bass after her mom :)

Her and her father moved to a different state during her senior year of high school for reasons unknown to her. Sometimes she overheard hushed phone calls in the kitchen, or notices his shifting eyes in public spaces.

She meets Daisuke in a business studies class and the two take on the first few weeks of school together! It's not until Daisuke tells her that there's someone on campus that sells the good shit and they agree to meet at the dealer's spot that they meet Jimmy and Curly!

Curly and Daisuke have Gym at the same time, so that interaction was nice ("Word?" "Word." "I didn't know you were chill like that.")

The four of them hang out plenty after that!

SWANSEA (LASTNAME?)- Manager (I COULDNT FIND A GOOD PICCREW IM SORRY :(

Part of Pony Express Record's staff of managers. They refuse to hire more, so usually managers are looking after two or more bands at a time. This is also true for Swansea!

Daisuke's parents call in a favor he's owed them for some time, and of course it's for their precious baby boy. And of course he can't say no

He oversee's Tulpar's progress as a unit, coaches them individually on what industry standards are for musicians and then as a group for synergy, blending, and other factors that could risk their signing.

No matter how many times Swansea tells Jimmy his shit wont fly at P.E Records, Jimmy writes what he wants anyways. And the band rallies behind him. And somehow it fucking works

On top of being Tulpar's manager, he also kinda becomes Daisuke's babysitter (on his parents wishes. "Well, you're going to be over there anyways! I don't see the big deal in reporting back to us about what he's- how he's doing :)")

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 63 Cool Posting

Hi, kind void. Today's chapter is straight out of an action movie! It's light on lore but chock-full of cool stuff (and some names at long last) so let's get into it.

Rough TL of editor's notes (don't take as competent):

Colour page: 音を割ぎ, 匂を割ぎ, 獲物の元へ忍び寄れ- [] Cut all sound, cut all smell, then sneak up on your prey- This one's fun because "cut" as in "eliminate" works in both EN and JP! Last page: 巻墨とチ-ムで!! [(Nakama) to chiimu de-!!] Teaming up with allies (the Masumi)!! The kanji for Masumi (巻墨) have Ruby over them spelling out nakama (なかま), the word that usually means ally/partner.

Really cool perspective shot on the colour page, by the by!

Code Name: Uh...?

Please live.

So, we finally got names for our Masumi Ninja Maids. But they're kind of, um. I feel bad for these guys if they aren't code names or nicknames ha ha.

"Ms. Masumi" is Sumi (炭): charcoal/coal "Minimura" is Rou (郎): son/young man (archaic) "Masumi Bro" is Moku (杢): woodworker/figure pattern in wood

Normally these kanji are combined with others to make a proper given name; they basically don't exist by themselves as a way to refer to someone outside of a family/surname from what I can find. I think I feel the worst for Sumi since her full name sounds like a Lalafell's from FFXIV: Masumi Sumi (巻墨 炭) lol. But yeah. Names at last, even if they're kinda headscratchers! Just like the nature of this ink sorcery.

Random bullshit, go!: the ability

At this point I'm definitely operating under the assumption that Sumi's sorcery is basically just Rule of Cool: Ink Version. I guess she can manifest anything she wants or needs if she has the time to write whatever inscriptions are necessary. I've never read Naruto in full (fake weeaboo, cancel me on TWT) but apparently this is similar to how Fuinjutsu works in that series? In the sense that a user can write a "seal" and concentrate their power into it to do something crazy cool that may or may not actually have anything to do with sealing something.

In the Masumi's case, I think their surname literally meaning "rolled up ink [scroll]" is a dead giveaway that this is basically how the technique functions- the user channels their sorcery into a written inscription for a desired effect. So they're basically OP if given infinite time to train and prepare for a fight, and will have all kinds of ass-pull types of clutch factor if they stick around.

...Speaking of.

I have a kind of ominous feeling about these guys beyond the jokes about how elite squads have a high mortality rate in this series. I don't want to be one of those doomsday prophecy guys, but this chapter ends pretty optimistically in a way that makes me think we'll be saying goodbye to them at some point. We have some significant emotional investment in them by now but they're not critical enough to keep around despite the deep ties to Samura. I don't think it'll be next chapter or anything, but... they could be another Elite Squad Statistic sooner or later is all I'm saying. I want them to live though. Rou's kind of growing on me, Moku's got amazing himbo energy in a series critically lacking in hunks, and Sumi can pat my head and call me a "good boy" any day.

(Warning, pure speculation ahead.) Also, referencing chapter 53 where it seems like Chihiro's hellbent on taking his own path but is trying to rely on others- if he loses the Masumi after seeing Uruha die and Hakuri be gravely injured, then he's probably going to spiral down even further and try to go it alone for real like Samura is. That could be when Hakuri comes back in for the save where Uruha tried and failed with his mentor. But I'm just spitballing with this so I'll leave it be until we get a better idea of where the Chihiro/Samura and Hakuri/Uruha parallels are going. Don't want to get too attached to a development that may well not even happen.

For now I will pray they live and keep supporting Chihiro in all kinds of silly and cool ways. Buck the trend and don't become an Elite Squad statistic!

"Quality" Analysis Section

Just in case you forgot how fucking exhausted Chihiro must be.

The author lampshading his own breakneck pace isn't just a cheeky jab at the people fretting about it- I see this as a deliberate callout that Chihiro is going to run himself into the ground and truly break. Referencing chapter 53- Chihiro thinks he's an irredeemable monster and is rushing down the path to hell. So maybe the rushed pacing of chapter 60 was intentional after all? As in Chihiro won't give himself a break so we don't get one either. I don't want to assume too much but I'll keep that in mind as we get closer to his breaking point. How he collapses and why will be very important. As will be the people who help him recover.

Chihiro looks fucking tired man. The new scars and extra thick sketchy lines under his eyes even when he's being a badass give me the impression that he's pushing himself too hard. The only other character consistently having the tired look right now is Rou and I'm willing to bet that it's done to give him a slightly more mature look to remind us of his true age- he's had them ever since he was woken up from his nap in ch. 55. I swear to God, if Hokazono-sensei has Chihiro buckle and shatter because he won't let himself rest, I will forgive absolutely everything about Chapter 60 onward and never doubt him again. Well, almost everything.

I'm not just saying this to cope. I went back through the whole story to check Chihiro's expressions up to chapter 62 and there's a pretty clear trend. Apologies for the huge cluttered images, probably should have made these on my smaller monitor.

Chapter appearances: 18 Examples: 18

Chapter appearances: 25 Examples: 22 (not present in ch. 35) I will mention Hakuri in every post one way or another.

Chapter appearances: 14 Examples: 41 (not present in chs. 55 & 56)

Basically: Chihiro is the most exhausted and emotional he's ever been in the shortest amount of chapters (even accounting for the lines under most character's eyes getting thicker starting around chapter 47). So yeah, he's tired as fuck and absolutely should not have been so gung-ho to do a rescue mission.

The real give-away is the end of Chapter 60:

Zoom in on the second to last page: he tired and burdened AF bro

Squad roll out on the last page: cool, calm, collected

Extreme zoom-in shots to character's eyes are how a mangaka draws attention to how the character's truly feeling without having them say anything out loud. Doing this to show Chihiro is exhausted before zooming back out to have him looking like his usual self reads as him burying that tiredness to get things done with the others. He is focused and ready to do whatever's necessary to protect Iori- but Rou knows how he's really feeling and called him out which is why we suddenly see all those panels of Chihiro looking as wiped out as he feels this chapter.

Like so.

Chihiro's exhausted but won't give himself a break. And this chapter's making a point of that, because now Chihiro's at the point where even shots of him being a badass have that tired look. He's going to break from pushing himself this hard sooner rather than later or I'm sixty toads in a wooden onesie. (Surely I won't regret making this assertion...)

I haven't forgotten about this flag from Chapter 1.

I feel like a colossal idiot for needing this to be pointed out to me, but I'll admit I'm dumb. At least I took the closer look I should have been doing all along for this post- better late than never and all that.

Rokuhira Chihiro: Forever Badass

Always the coolest guy in a 3781.2km radius

Yeah, Chihiro absolutely reminded us why he's the MC this chapter despite not having as much screen time as Sumi and the Hishaku. He's just that awesome- Hokazono absolutely nails every entrance this guy makes.

Shame the general public doesn't seem to agree.

Not so above it all (but we knew this)

Nice to see that people being frightened and thinking he's a mass-murderer still gets to Chihiro a little. It won't stop him from pursuing his goals, but he is absolutely not above caring about how he's perceived. Maybe fighting against the guy who broke through the window and threatened to kill defenseless students will help some people change their minds?

Iori's definitely going to have to take some time to reconcile her dismal first impression of Chihiro with who he actually is. I'm actually looking forward to how that plays out- Chihiro probably won't go out of his way to convince her he's a nice guy, so we'll get to see her evaluation of him evolve as they spend time together. Hopefully. Maybe. I can only rarely guess what's going to happen next in this manga and I'm not at all confident we'll get significant time devoted to developing the relationship between Chihiro and Iori. I'd like to see it though. Hakuri is the best character from anything ever, but Chihiro would benefit from getting to know more people his age- especially ones that have been able to lead a relatively normal life. She can bring a fresh viewpoint to this series that's so far mostly been limited to traumatized action hero types.

Kuguri Impressions

This guy is a piece of work. Definitely obsessed with "slicing" to an unhealthy degree.

Talking through fighting, that time-old tradition.

Taking a page from his... inspiration? Mentor? Whatever? Sojo, he wants to "talk" with Chihiro in a high-octane way. Sure let's go, love the fights and the spread of them engaging each other this chapter was epic! There's an interesting line from him that caught my attention, though.

The vibes are "these guys should have just let me kill them, now look at this mess."

We're reminded on the same page that "The Hishaku have no qualms about involving innocent bystanders." And this seems to hold true for Kuguri- he killed an unarmed teacher in cold blood, sliced up a bus full of people, was ready to kill students, so on and so forth. He's not a good guy. But talking about how more lives need to be sacrificed now snagged at me- it's a total 180 from Hiruhiko's joyful bloodbath approach.

He strikes me as the type of person who takes the shortest path to everything in life and killing is just a tool he can use to achieve that. He might actually be closer to Chihiro in that he doesn't really enjoy committing murder but views it as necessary. Just in way too many circumstances and with way less morality involved than our protagonist- again, Kuguri is absolutely 100% a bad guy who will deserve whatever death is coming to him. You don't have to murder your way through unarmed civilians to reach a defenseless target.

I'm a lot more interested in seeing more of him now to find out what he's really like and what makes him tick. I especially want to see him clash and contrast with Chihiro. Our poor protagonist is getting challenged on way more fronts than ever before, and in way finer detail, but I know he's up to it. At least for now...

Miscellaneous Thoughts

"This is a surprise tool that will help us later."

I will absolutely accuse people who ask "is Chihiro using Enten?!" or "where did Chihiro get the sword from?!" of speedreading. Yes, it's very silly that the motorcycle that appeared from a magic ink scroll had a katana built in to it. We're definitely not meant to think hard about the how and why of that- it's there because Chihiro needs a proper weapon to fight with while he can't use his magic fish nuke. Hopefully it's existence isn't on a timer or something.

It will be interesting to see how he fares with a regular weapon against a guy who can cut a bus in half with his own mundane katana. How good are Chihiro's basics, really? How much did he manage to pick up from Samura and others before he started to train with Enten's powers? We're probably about to find out!

Please don't let this raise a flag for the Masumi.

These front shots always look so damn cool. Chihiro is the kind of protagonist those edgy wish-fulfillment series wish they had. If Hakuri didn't exist he'd definitely be my favourite character, no contest. Pretty rare for a shounen series honestly! He might even win an official popularity poll if/when Kagurabachi gets one! Usually that honour goes to the deuteragonist or characters with wide appeal like Gojo while the MC is in second or third. Maybe. I want to collect the data on this but I've already got a ton of other half-finished things I'm working on, so maybe that'll wait until a poll is actually announced.

A lot of shounen MCs are good guys with a lot to learn and Chihiro's not much different in that regard. But all the little details about Chihiro add up to make him the first WSJ protagonist I've been sincerely attached to in eons. ...I'll get around to finishing that "why Chihiro is a uniquely compelling protagonist" write-up one of these days.

Hooray for magic skirts that ignore physics

Not much to say here other than I'm really happy for the yuri fans. They finally have "shippable" girls interacting with each other in Kagurabachi. And an innocent-yet-brave girl is clinging to a cool, deadly beauty for safety no less- that's really potent stuff. Let the lilies bloom!

Okay, dear void. We have one more break for brain rot before resuming a normal weekly schedule on the 19th. Great time to re-read the series for the five millionth time, wouldn't you agree? Yes? Wonderful! See you in two weeks or so if I don't finish up something that's gathering dust in the drafts before then. Take care of yourself and may 2025 be your best year yet.

[dondusthefirstconsul]

I'm gonna write my reply notes style because I can't form my thoughts in a well written comprehensive style because im honestly lost for words and this whole thing sucker punched me in the stomach and left my lungs without air it's so good

”We've been served a tragedy and you know what I don't like about that? The tragedy. What if it was a (dead serious) sitcom instead.” SO REAL is the tragedy good and well written? yeah but…. actually give me a sitcom made out of it instead

dysfunctional families are my favourite trope you have no idea theres just that SOMETHING ABOUT IT IS JUST SO so so so !!!!!!

the concept that the emperors’ power is effectively seized from them so that they can’t make decisions for the empire anymore until the day they might know how to rule better and while this is not okay with them it is surely a significant release of stress from their shoulders that are entirely incapable of actually handling all the power and responsibily – is amazing

”Two terrified children no one ever told how to rule. No one ever told how to win friends, how to build trust. No one ever told how to show compassion to, so you don't know how to show it to others, either. Just two miserable, entitled, privileged boys stuck in a world where they've never had anybody outside each other, so you just don't think further than yourselves.” honestly!!!!!! because YES they were so neglected and abused when they were growing up and now maybe they can be re-parented and raised if only someone cared enough to do it though imagining Acacius and Lucilla trying to re-parent them makes me laugh because holy shit thats going to be a nightmare job and the twins are not easy to manage and because they are basically fully grown men already their habits are s t u c k and not exactly easily reversed

I imagine they would throw huge tantrums at first because they are entitled and spoiled and what do you mean we’re not in power anymore and are being held in one room get us out of here this is not how it is supposed to be?! but would very soon be too terrified for their lives to do that anymore and would start to break down

and while the hate and the resentment Lucilla holds against the twins is so valid I can’t help but already long for the moment she might start to see them in a different light and maybe even start to care for them a little bit

Acacius accidentally being their father is so cute and so funny and I can already imagine him noticing that hes started to grow a little fond of them and it makes me CACKLE hes probably going to be like oh..shit....

but on a more serious note Acacius starting to see them as more human and less as cruel tyrants when they've been broken down and then starting to explore how far the damage has gone and what there is to salvage in them is such a good beautiful delicious concept

all about this is just so !!! talented brilliant incredible amazing showstopping spectacular never the same totally unique and I'm eating it uppp every last crumb

AND please feel free to correct me if I got anything about your fic wrong and also please feel free to say if I'm getting up over my head about this and need to calm down XDD

unhinged concept (I'm entering that stage): Lucilla actually does adopt Geta and Caracalla which ruins Acacius's life but also makes him their step-father and they finally get an actual father figure who teaches them how the fuck to hold swords and not be the worst people ever.

and we just cancel Macrinus entirely, which, I don't know what the hell happens to Lucius but that's someone else's unhinged concept to worry about.

And we put Caracalla on a leash because the boy cannot behave. That's no way to treat your mother

[cheezeybread]

Hear me out: You learn how to adapt with magic less use by using smoke bombs

HAHAHAHAHAH

I'm sorry, this is such a genuinely funny thought that I've been trying to write a one-shot for it but it does NOT do it justice!

Anytime YN gets asked a strange question? Smoke bomb.

Overblot?

Smoke bomb

Crowley assigning them too much work?

SMOKE BOMB BABY!!!!!

Some random student asking them out or trying to fight them?

S M O K E B O M B

YN starts getting called the "Ninja" around campus after using smoke bombs for a while. Where do they even get the smoke bombs?? Maybe Sam??? He's insistent that he hasn't sold any to YN....

The running theory is that YN is making them in the old shed on campus....

[lemonadehtwooh]

If I have to see One More fucking post that makes Alhaitham a "daddy dom" and Kaveh into a "soft uwu sub" I'm going to fucking kill someone

[fbfh]

good news wildcats, I'm finally watching hsmtmts s4. I just finished episode 1 and I am SCREAMING.

toxic ricky is back!!!!!!!!!!! unhinged unstable season 1 ricky my darling!!!! my beloved!!!!!!!!! my pathetic soggy prayers have been answered!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[passivenovember]

do you ever just. read other people's work and realize that your writing is shit? because that's where I'm at right now and it's debilitating.

not to be dramatic. i need desperately to get out of my own head.

[koka-mi]

vent under the cut you don't need to read if you don't want to!!!!!!!

I honestly hateee opening up or oversharing with ppl. it's kind of like eating for me where it feels okay in the moment but then afterwards I just feel awful. it feels like I'm attention seeking or saying someone else's experience isn't valid for some reason and it sucks. I don't do it at all with ppl I just met but with friends I tend to get carried away with it sometimes,,,

It hurts even more because I've been distancing myself from ppl bcz I'm scared of this exact thing happening. People have messaged me before, saying I seem cool and they want to be friends. And I get happy in the moment, but then I get really anxious about accidentally getting too comfortable and blurting out personal things, because then their opinion of me will wane and they'll think I'm annoying or ungrateful. So I subconsciously begin to distance myself and take a while when responding to messages, because I'm scared of getting too comfortable with them. But now I'm anxious that they think I'm cold or distant and that I secretly don't like them. It's just a lose lose situation mannn </3

I have so many DMs I've put off responding to, and I've stopped talking in servers as much bcz I'm scared of getting close with ppl in them. I really feel bad for it, though. I've drifted from friends bcz of that and it sucks because I genuinely love them a lot. I love everyone I talk to a lot and they always make my day better--I just wish I could be the same for them. I feel like it's a chore to talk to me. I honestly don't know what to do. It's even worse when I get close to someone bcz they like what I make/post because again, now that they've seen how I really am and I've opened up, they more than likely see me as annoying or a bad person. Like it hurts enough whenever we become friends naturally talking, but if it's with someone who's seen me at my "best" and has seen things I work on or stories I've created, they ofc associate me with those things, and their expectations of me are through the roof. So when I disappoint them it hurts a lot more. I hate getting attached to people it hurts so much

[atlantis-just-drowned]

If no one reblog this fucking alphabet soon I'm going feral and close my ask box people need to learn how to use this website and stop liking posts

[waitmyturtles]

I’m looking forward to crossing off the next episodes of Individual Circumstances tonight, but I also need to get off my chest that even though I’m not done with my essential watching of Bad Buddy, that I’m already preparing to destroy myself by housing Dirty Laundry as fast as I can, because I just CANNOT get enough of Nanon and Ohm. Whew.

If anyone is out there and reading this, and is watching Ohm in 10 Years Ticket, please tell me if 10 Years Ticket is worth watching! (There are so! many! episodes! in 10 Years Ticket.) (So many hour-long episodes, my god.) 

(My drama list is just..... out of control at the moment.)

[harrowharkwife]

swear to god if i open a fanfic ONE MORE TIME only to be greeted with an author's note saying "i asked chatgpt to tell me a story about-" i am going to go fucking NUCLEAR