#suspire

[lefaystrent]

Suspire

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: platonic LAMP

Summary: Roman's favorite weighted blanket is ruined.

Roman wouldn't say that he adjusts well. He merely finds ways to cope.

AO3 Link: click here

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It's just a blanket.

Roman is an adult. He has a job. He buys his own groceries, and he pays his portion of the rent on time. He keeps up with his student debt even when some months he hangs on by his fingernails.

It's just a single blanket.

Roman has other things in his life to be happy about. He has his paintings and keyboard. He has his dearest friends whom he lives with. He's active in his local theater community and often lands roles. He has a roof over his head, parents who care for him, a brother who he can stand sometimes. A car that works.

It's just a fucking blanket.

That's what he tells himself over and over as he stares vacantly at the ripped threads. The tear that had been snagged wide open, and the weighted material inside quickly coming outside. He holds it, remembering the marvelous weight on his shoulders, the pressure on his back, the comfort it gave him. The security and warmth. The way he will never feel it again. How he can't go back and fix it.

He can't afford another one right now. It's one of those tight month's budget-wise. And even if he could, it would not be this one.

Roman holds his blanket and unravels alongside it.

***

Roman wouldn't say that he adjusts well. He merely finds ways to cope.

He takes longer showers. The sizzling pinpricks of water cascade over him, beating down on his shoulder blades. It's too hot, close to boiling, but the burn is nice even if his skin begs him to stop. If he stands directly under, it's almost encompassing. It's almost enough.

He wears more layers. Roman tends to add a jacket over any attire anyway. What's another sweatshirt under? Or a scarf tied protectively around his neck? It doesn't matter that this too is overheating. His bones are brittle, and he needs to wrap them somehow. The skin is not enough. It bruises far too easily.

The most embarrassing thing he tries is wedging his whole body into or under anything that may work as a substitute. He tears apart his room testing this and that and wants to cry in frustration as he lays on the carpet with his entire mattress smothering him. He steals all the pillows in the house when he's sure the others are out, and he piles them up. But burrowing into them is too soft and leaves him more frustrated. He crawls under the couch one day and nearly has a panic attack when the front door unlocks and Logan walks in. He plays it off as having lost the remote. He can't bear to admit the truth.

That is, until he's left with no other choice.

***

Roman sits at the dining table working on an art project involving thousands of multi-colored beads. His desk in his bedroom simply isn't large enough, so here he is.

Patton enters the kitchen behind him, and Roman knows its him by the smell of his eucalyptus scented shampoo. Then he sees freckled arms emerging over his shoulders, wrists adorned in friendship bracelets, and they snake around Roman's collarbone. Roman's hands fix in mid-air, eyes going blank as Patton presses up against his back and rests his chin on the top of Roman's head.

"You're so creative," Patton praises, and that alone could usually keep him comfortably warm long into the cold night. But everywhere that Patton touches him, every press of muscle and firm flesh, it scorches in the most pleasant burn.

"I can't wait to see it when it's done," Patton says, and Roman can feel the hum of his voice, how it vibrates his scalp and dances down the back of his neck. A shiver shoots up his back, and Roman cannot dedicate his attention to anything else if he tried.

Roman takes too long to respond, too frozen in his posture.

Patton notices. "Kiddo? You okay there? Was I not supposed to see?"

As if the art piece means a damn to him in this moment. What matters to him with eye-opening crystal clarity is that Patton's arms are loosening and his weight shifts so that he's not leaning against him as much. The loss of that is an incomparable grief.

Roman drops what he's holding, uncaring that some of the beads clatter off the side of the table to skitter across the floor. His hands clutch at Patton's wrists and fold them back around his neck. He draws the blessed weight against him once more, and he keeps it there, scared to let it go. Scared to be exposed once more.

"Roman?" Patton's tone is careful now, wary that something is wrong. His head settles back on top of Roman's, but his face nestles into the side of his hair, the edge of his glasses barely grazing. His voice whispers at his ear, "Did something happen?"

Yes, something happened. Roman's favorite weighted blanket is ruined and he's acting like a child about it. The shame excavates a pit in his stomach. There are depths to it that he doesn't wish to look at, let alone express.

"Can you–" Roman begins, but there's a lump caught in his throat. His voice sounds foreign to his own ears, too small and full of trepidation. He swallows and blinks rapidly. "Can you stay? Like this?"

"Hugging?" Patton asks to clarify. Roman doesn't think he's mocking him. Patton would never mock. He wouldn't judge. Not this. Never this. Please don't judge him for this.

"Mmhm," Roman hums, because if he doesn't use words he won't sound so pathetic, yet he immediately fails. The vocalization comes out high-pitched and needy, and tears spring to his eyes unbidden. He doesn't dare blink his eyes now.

Patton doesn't answer at first, and Roman is enormously relieved that they can't see each other's expressions. Roman fears what he would see on Patton's face, and if Patton could see him right now? He doesn't think he could hold on to his composure.

"Okay," Patton says, voice flower-petal soft. "We can stay like this. However long you want. I don't mind."

Patton skims his nose back and forth over Roman's hairline. His hands spread out, palms covering the top if Roman's chest. His hold is a cradle, gentle and safe, and it holds him together and doesn't let him fall apart. The arms tighten around him, compressing, and Roman holds them right back.

***

Patton becomes his saving grace.

He is wonderful in that he needs no explanation. His affections are given freely, without cost, whenever Roman needs them or even when he doesn't realize he needs them. Patton starts to hug him more often and cuddle him during movie nights. He ruffles Roman's hair as he passes by, or he grabs him by the hand when he's excited. Sometimes he'll trail his fingertips over Roman's face in lazy lines that set his mind at ease.

It's exhilarating.

Roman can't get enough. The need never ceases, and Patton is just one person. He cannot always be at Roman's beck and call. Patton has work and outings he leaves for, same as everyone else. And when he's home, it doesn't mean he's available at all hours. Like the middle of the night for instance.

Roman stands at Patton's firmly shut bedroom door like a sad dog. His fists tighten into the thighs of his sweatpants. What did he expect really? That Patton's door would be wide open at two in the morning? That he'd spy light on under the door and get the courage to knock? Patton said he was there for Roman any time, but that doesn't mean Roman gets to take advantage and disrupt his sleep schedule just because Roman is too pathetic to fall asleep without his blanket.

Patton has done so much for him lately. He's good like that, a saint. Roman can't monopolize him. It wouldn't be fair.

Then why does he continue to stand there in the dark hallway? A damsel in distress waiting for his prince to save him? Or hoping the door will magically open and he receive some form of pity.

He's worse than pathetic. He's absolutely rotten.

A sliver of light illuminates the hall, a door squeaking open. Roman nearly jumps out of his skin and looks behind him where Logan stands in the doorway to his own bedroom.

"Roman?" Logan says, looking just as surprised. "I didn't think you'd be up this late. Don't you have work in the morning?"

"Heyyy, Specs," Roman gets out tremulously. He scratches at the back of his head, searching for some excuse. Think of something, damn it. "I uh, yeah. I've got work in the morning. Just...out for a stroll."

"A stroll?" Logan repeats. His brow raises and he's giving Roman that look that he gives him all the time, like he's stupid and not worth his time.

Roman crosses his arms and stares down at his bare feet. "Yeah, I can stroll where I want. What are you, the hall monitor?"

"I never claimed to be, nor would I want to. You live here; walk where you wish."

"Good, I'm glad we've covered this," Roman replies. He whips his head up when Logan breezes by him down the hall. "Wait, where are you going?"

Logan sends him a bemused glance. "I was going to make a light snack before bed. Why are you following me?"

"Don't try to distract me and just answer the question!"

"I did, Roman."

"Oh... well, answer it again!"

That gets an actual snort out of Logan. Roman shuffles behind him into the kitchen as if locked in a gravitational pull. He watches him pull out a loaf from the bread box along with a tub of butter from the fridge. Roman dithers there observing, reluctant to leave. Logan must accept that Roman has no intention of leaving him alone because he gestures to the bread. "Want some?"

Roman looks between the spreadable butter and bread. "Are you just eating buttered bread?"

Logan rolls his eyes. "No, I was planning to eat buttered toast with jam. But if you're not interested..."

"No, you can make me some," Roman swiftly interrupts while trying to make it sound like it's something Logan should be honored to do.

Logan extracts another slice of bread. He plugs up the toaster oven. "So, couldn't sleep?"

"And what if I couldn't?"

Logan sighs, "Not everything is a challenge, Roman."

Roman shifts self-consciously and mutters, "Not with that attitude, Gay Jude."

Logan smiles a little bit after he inserts the bread to be toasted. "Ah, The Beatles. Would you like to hear some interesting facts about them?"

Roman has nothing else to do so he shrugs. Logan enlightens him while they wait for the little ding. Roman snags the jar of crofters out of the fridge before Logan gets a chance, and Roman smirks victoriously at him but spreads the jam on Logan's toast in apology. They eat and drink water, and Logan asks if he's going to go to bed now.

Roman's brows crease. "Actually, why are you up?"

Logan adjusts his glasses, a tell that he's been caught doing something of mild embarrassment. "I was reading a novel."

"That good, huh?" Roman quips with a grin. He and Logan share a surprising amount of similar taste for literature, so Roman doesn't doubt that the writing is less than phenomenal if it's enough to keep his favorite nerd up into the wee hours of the night.

"I would tell you about it, but then you would chide me for giving you spoilers whether or not you intend to read it."

"Mm, I probably will," Roman agrees.

"Then if you don't require anything else, I really must insist we both go to bed. It will be difficult enough to rise later this morning."

"What if I did require something else?" Roman suggests before he can bite his tongue.

And Logan, dependable Logan who at least always hears him out, turns to him fully. "I am all ears, as they say. Which is a ridiculous saying; we only have but two."

Roman doesn't laugh or tease as he usually would. And maybe that tips Logan off more than it should.

"Roman?" he prompts. Because he's so smart, he deduces, "Does this pertain to why you're up so late?"

Roman's gaze strays. It's dark in the kitchen. They didn't bother turning on a light, letting the streetlight guide them from outside the kitchen window. It's too obscured for Logan to see the heat in his cheeks or how he picks nervously at his nails.

Roman gnaws at the inside of his cheek. "It doesn't...not have to do with it."

"You're being vague. That's not like you."

"You don't know what I'm like."

"And you've been defensive. More so than usual. You are upset about something."

Roman just about chokes on air. "What?! No. Nooo, I'm not."

"Was it something I did?"

That punches Roman in the gut. The concern Logan is giving him, it knocks his feet right out from under him and has the truth spilling from his lips. "No, Logan, I just want a hug!"

Roman is infinitely more glad than ever that it's too dark to see. His face is on fire, and he can't look in Logan's direction.

"Happy now?" Roman asks bitterly.

"Roman, if you wanted physical affection, all you had to do was ask."

"What."

He's enveloped in a strong embrace.

Oh. Ohhhh.

Hugs are different. Different people give different hugs. Roman knows this, he does. He's had hugs throughout his life. He's not like, touch-starved or anything. It's just– it's like a reminder. A reminder with all the force of a slap to the face.

He had been so focused on Patton's hugs that he never thought to ask the others. Why would he? He never really did before. Things have just been hard since he lost his blanket, his comfort item. It's not usually like this. Roman's not usually like this, so dependent or desperate for attention.

In Logan's arms, he feels all of that melt away. In fact, his whole body melts into the embrace. A rush of air coaxes out from deep within his lungs as Logan's arms secure around his back. One hand hooks behind Roman's head and pulls him into the crook of his neck. The scent of Logan's faded cologne and laundry detergent fill his nostrils. There's lavender mixed with something else he can't distinguish but is wholly welcome and soothing.

Logan rubs circles into his back, and Roman leans heavily into him. Roman's arms raise like anvils hang off them, and it's all he can manage to circle them around Logan's waist and hang on for dear life.

"Is this satisfactory?" Logan asks. Roman might would answer him if not for the fingers scratching patterns into his scalp. His toes curl in bliss, and his mind sinks into fog. He buries his face further into Logan's neck and shoulder as if he can crawl into Logan's chest and hide there.

"I'll take that as a yes," Logan muses and squeezes him gently.

Roman doesn't make it back to bed for a while.

***

Logan joins Patton in the free affection initiative. Roman wonders if he and Patton discussed this or if Logan is doing it of his own volition. Either way, there is a definite increase in Logan's deviated mannerisms around Roman.

He pats him more on the back. He holds his hand when they sit next to each other. And there's a couple times Logan goes so far as to kiss his forehead. That left Roman blustering and bumbling like an idiot for hours after, because who is this person dressed like Logan? Surely not his nerd. Still, he can't deny the giddiness it evokes.

Things get a bit easier from there. The more it happens, the more he can normalize it. The more he normalizes it, the more he doesn't have to feel ashamed, right? If someone like Logan would go to the trouble...he doesn't have to feel silly about it, right? He can still be taken seriously?

Roman aches less for his blanket. The pain remains, but it's bearable. He feels less likely to break down in a sobbing mess, and that's progress. Right?

Virgil suspects something is going on.

It was bound to happen. He never stops watching out for them or simply watching them. If Patton hadn't accidentally found out about Roman's predicament, Roman thinks that Virgil would have been the first to suspect. As it is, Virgil observes the way that Patton and Logan act around Roman, and it's just enough different than normal. Just out there enough for him to see.

"Are you guys dating?" Virgil blurts out of the blue one day.

It's just the two of them at home, chilling on the couch together watching TV. Roman figured Virgil was having a bad anxiety day from the noncommittal responses he's been giving and how he keeps biting at his nails. Obviously, there have been other topics plaguing his thoughts.

"Who?" Roman asks, because really, who? Roman is single and proudly on a quest to love himself. Virgil knows this. Or at least, he thought he did.

Virgil squirms in his seat like he can't find a comfortable position. "Nevermind, just forget it."

"Well now I really can't forget it."

Virgil groans and buries his face into his hands. "You. And Logan, and Patton. Are you guys dating? If you are, it's whatever. I just would think you guys would tell me."

Roman gives him a semi-horrified look. Not all the way horrified, because Roman is a catch, and his friends are equally catch-worthy, but that's just... that's not how they are together.

"No? Why would you think that?"

Virgil gives him a look. "What else am I supposed to think? You guys have been acting all weird. You can't deny it. I'm not crazy. Or blind."

"Weird how? No seriously, I'm being for real."

"You know. Like all soft? And touchy feely?"

Roman can't help but quirk a smile at how awkward Virgil is acting, as if it pains him to say something so sappy. It's easy to fall into his confident persona. He leans in closer. "Aww, are you feeling left out, Emo?"

Virgil shoves him away. Not with his hand but with his leg because he has to be extra. "Okay, if you're just gonna be a dick about it, I can just go to my room."

And the bravado rushes out as quickly as it arrived. He doesn't want Virgil to leave, and he certainly doesn't want Virgil to entertain the notion that Roman is making fun of him maliciously.

Virgil stays long enough for Roman to fall into contemplation. Virgil peaks up at him and sees Roman looking back at him, completely serious.

"What?" Virgil asks, and there's a bit of a snarl there. Okay, Roman probably deserves that.

"We're not dating," Roman says quietly.

Virgil doesn't believe him. Or at least, he's suspicious of what's not being said. "Then what's up with you guys? Something's going on, and I..."

And Virgil isn't a part of it. He's on the outside looking in. More than that, he thinks they're excluding him on purpose.

Impulsively, Roman says, "Can I ask you something? In all seriousness?"

Virgil's eyes peer at him in narrowed slits, cautious and curious. Roman can see his inner debate, weighing his options of pushing Roman or letting it go or maybe even getting up to leave altogether. It'd be fair; Roman is answering him with a question of his own. Roman isn't sure he would be so patient, in Virgil's place.

But Virgil is more patient than people give him credit for. He nods. "Shoot."

Roman averts his gaze now, suddenly jittery with nervous energy. "Actually, it's more a question of asking you to do something. Can I ask you to do something? And you not laugh at me? Or think I'm weird? You can say no, of course, I just–"

"Roman. Ask away. The worst I can say is no, and I promise not to give you shit for it if I do."

Despite himself, Roman needs a little more assurance. He holds up his hand. "Pinkie promise?"

"Really dude?"

"Virgil, it is a sacred oath."

"Okay, fine, whatever." Virgil threads their pinkies together. "I promise not to be a jerk if you don't."

"Deal," Roman agrees.

"Now, what is it you want to ask me to do?"

"Will you lay on top of me?"

There's no going back. There's no pretending that he misspoke, even as Virgil tilts his head as if he must have heard him wrong. When Roman doesn't budge, Virgil goes stock-still, eyes slowly blowing up wide.

"Uh....what?"

Roman huffs, more frustrated at himself than anything else. "Would you lay on top of me?"

"No, I heard that. I'm just trying to process."

"Then yes or no. You don't need to say anything else. Just yes or no."

And because it's Virgil, he very much has to say anything else. "What do you even mean though? Why?"

Roman groans and waves towards the couch. "Just– you know, I lay on the couch and then you lay on top of me. It's not that complicated, so don't overcomplicate it."

"I overcomplicate going to get a glass or water, Roman. You can't tell me not to overcomplicate you randomly asking me to lay on you."

"I thought you promised you weren't going to be a jerk?"

"I'm not trying to be!" Virgil swipes at his face, his own aggravation mounting. Roman notices that his cheeks are dusted a light pink. "I just don't understand how this relates to anything or why you want me to..."

Roman shrugs sort of helplessly, smile sardonic. "I just do. There's...no trick that I'm playing at, if that's what you're wondering. I want you to lay on me, that's all. Nothing more, nothing less. So would you? No wrong answer."

Virgil looks away a couple of times. He thrums his fingers over his knees, tap, tap, tapping. "I mean, I guess?"

"You guess?"

"Sure then. I'll do it, even if I think I'm the last person you would want to cuddle or whatever, but you'll explain after that?"

"Cross my heart." Roman mimes the motion over his chest.

Virgil stands up. He doesn't move far, just stands there gripping the hem of his hoodie while looking lost. "So..."

Roman scoots down on the couch to where he lays back with his head supported by the couch arm, his legs stretching out along the cushions. He shoves away the embarrassment, the shame, the voice in his head asking what the hell he is doing. Virgil watches him closely, eyes squinted and trying to figure out how to approach.

"Get in here, Emo," Roman calls, holding out his arms.

Virgil grunts and clambers over him. He takes too long to figure out where to put one knee, and Roman adjusts. He spreads out a leg to make room and guides Virgil down. The sides of Virgil's jacket hang over him like a curtain as Virgil hovers in the air, afraid to rest fully against him.

"I'll be heavy," Virgil warns. "You're not going to be able to breathe."

"That's fine, I don't need to," Roman says, half-joking. He's more fixated on tugging at Virgil's shirt to get him to close that last foot of space.

"I better not hear you complain then," Virgil says and finally, finally, drops down on Roman, letting his full weight settle on him.

It's everything that Roman has missed.

Roman can sense Virgil's body from head to toe. Their legs, hips, stomachs, chest, shoulders, all of it pinging across Roman's nervous system at every point of contact. Virgil's arms are folded on either side of Roman's torso, and he can feel the lean limbs against his sides like a harness. Virgil nudges his head stiffly under Roman's chin, and Roman wraps his arms around Virgil's back and holds him tightly to complete the full body hug.

He's sinking into the cushions. His muscles release weeks' worth of tension, letting go and relaxing. He's delightfully sandwiched under Virgil's weight, warmed in his closeness. The warmth is dizzying, like little bumblebees buzzing serenely and drowning him in honey, so sweet and cloying. Virgil's hoodie is a pillow under his palms, and Roman can see why he wears the garment all the time. Roman would wear Virgil all the time if he could.

"Is this it?" Virgil asks, seemingly unimpressed by the magic surrounding them. "Is this what you wanted?"

Roman squeezes more. Virgil wasn't wrong, he's heavy but in the most incredible, indescribable way. Despite the pressure, it's like Roman can breathe again. It's perfect, exactly what he's been craving.

"Hug me any tighter and I'm gonna bruise," Virgil remarks lightly, and something about the words or the tone is more than Roman can take. He breaks.

A shudder shakes him as tears spill over in wet streaks dripping down, salty droplets catching in his mouth. It's abrupt and overwhelming, and it's all coming back to him. The grief, the embarrassment, the shame, the desperate need. He can't stop it, can't hide it. Virgil is right here, and if he doesn't hear the whimper that escapes him, he surely can't ignore when Roman full-on starts sobbing.

"Princey?" Virgil says and sits up quickly. He pushes himself up off of him, and the soothing, wonderful pressure is wrenched away. The cold air bites at his skin in its place. Roman's cries devolve into hysterics, and he can't catch his breath to save his life. Virgil is gaping at him. He sees him in all his wretched ugliness. "Oh shit, what's wrong? Roman? Hey, hey, shhh, don't do that. Please, look at me, why are you crying? Talk to me Roman, I won't laugh, I promise."

Words are beyond him. Roman clings weakly to Virgil's shirt, tugging at him, begging him not to leave with actions and desperation alone. How can he convey his heart shattering to pieces? Or his skin eating itself alive? Or his bones splitting down to the marrow? A keening cry pierces his eardrums. It's a sorrowful weep from his own lips, a sound he didn't think he could make. A sound he's heard in the background for a long time and thought would go away if he ignored it.

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere," Virgil lets out shakily, miraculously interpreting Roman's crazed antics correctly. He stays over Roman, caging him in sweetly with his body. His fingers come up to brush the tears away using the cuffs of his sleeve. "It's alright, sweetheart. Just breathe with me. You're okay, you're okay. I've got you."

Roman is not okay, and Virgil's wild darting eyes share the same sentiment, but if you say a thing enough times, it'll come true by sheer force of will. And if Roman can keep pulling at Virgil, maybe he will go back to crushing him softly.

"What do you want? Do you want this? We can keep laying here. That's okay, Princey. You're okay. You're doing so good, telling me what you need."

Virgil lowers back on him, chest to chest. Roman would hug him in relief if he wasn't too busy turning his face to the side and trying to cover up. He stifles his gasps against the back of his hand. Virgil, thankfully, doesn't pull away his defense. He presses at his chest clumsy and earnest, rubbing his hands over his collar, massaging comfort into him and encouraging him to focus on the motion, to breathe together.

Roman listens to him and hangs on to every word as he talks him through it. Virgil never stops. He speaks far more tenderly than Roman is used to, and it's more astonishing than Logan's recent developments. If Virgil acted like his prickly self, Roman could manage to pull himself together. But Virgil is being lovely in his sweetness, watching him with dark eyes that are ferocious with compassion. It's a gaze that says he'll tear the world apart to keep him safe. Roman doesn't deserve him.

"I'm sorry," Roman whines. It's not enough to sum up his sorrow, yet it's all he has to give.

Virgil looks impossibly more bewildered. He shakes his head and goes back to wiping the tears from Roman's face, so careful in his handling. "Roman, you have nothing to apologize for."

"I'm sorry."

"No, listen to me," Virgil demands and cups his face, making him look right at him. "Obviously, something is going on in that big head of yours. If something is going on, if this has to do with what's up with you and the others, then that's okay, we can talk about it. I'm here for you, man. But if you're apologizing for crying all over me, then I'm gonna affectionately kick your ass. I'd rather you cry here with me than you do it alone or keep it bottled in. That's not healthy. If your brain is telling you that you're a burden to me or something stupid like that, I'll kick your brain's ass too. It can't be mean to you, that's my job."

Roman startles into laughter. It's a sad wheeze more than anything, but Virgil picks up on that. He gives a hesitant, hopeful smile as he brushes his thumbs over Roman's cheekbones.

"There's my Princey. Just keep laughing. I'm a real funny dude."

More wheezy chuckles. More reasons to adore his friend.

"I'm gonna give Patton a run for his money. I've got jokes for days. Wanna hear about belts made out of watches? It'll be a real waist of time."

Roman giggles and leans into Virgil's hands. He closes his eyes.

"And I'll keep going if you want me to. I can do this all day, Princey."

"I'm telling Patton you gave me emotional pun support," Roman murmurs.

Roman can tell by Virgil's voice that he's grinning. "Do it. I'm not afraid."

He opens his eyes again. Virgil moves one of his hands to tuck under his own chin so he can look at Roman more comfortably. The other hand combs through Roman's bangs, straightening them.

"You called me sweetheart," Roman points out in an awed tone.

Virgil doesn't bristle like he expects. If anything, he hunkers down further in his stubbornness. "Yeah? So what?"

"You don't...usually do pet names."

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises."

"Is it weird if I said I liked it?"

Virgil lightly flicks his forehead. "It's only weird if you make it weird, sweetheart."

Roman sniffles and wipes at his face to rid himself of any lingering wetness. Virgil allows him time to breathe and get his bearings.

"It's the weight," Roman finally admits. "The warmth and the pressure. I mean, why I asked you to lay on me. I had a weighted blanket, but it got ruined. So Patton and Logan have been helping out where they can. It's easier when they're touching."

Virgil doesn't stop petting at his hair, but he does frown while he parses through his words. "What do you feel like without it?"

"Without the touching and my blanket? Umm, exposed I guess? Anxious. Cold."

"When you don't have your blanket or someone touching you, do you think about it a lot?"

"What do you mean?"

Virgil shrugs, and Roman feels the movement and together with the hair petting, it's enough to have his eyelids flutter and threaten to close. "I mean, when you haven't had that in a while, does it consume your thoughts? Like you're longing for it?"

Roman remembers the night he stood outside Patton's door in the hallway.

All the time. He longs for it all the time these days.

"Yeah," Roman whispers.

"Dude, I think you're touch-starved."

That throws Roman for a loop. "But... I touch people enough? It's not like I'm going years without a hug over here."

Virgil boops him on the nose. "It's doesn't take years. Could just take weeks. Depends on the person I guess. Everyone needs things differently. I think you liked your blanket so much because you were using it to substitute touch. And now that you're starting to get touch more often, your body is trying to adjust. It's like going from eating bread crusts to a full course meal."

"But I..." Roman's mind drifts. Virgil's words resonate as he compares them to his memories.

Yearning, heartache, misery, clinginess, pressure, satisfaction, grief. Is this what's been wrong with him?

"I'm touch-starved?" Roman asks.

Virgil gives him a sympathetic smile. He pats at his head. "I think so. It's not so bad. We can help you."

"You will?"

Virgil snorts and adjusts his position so he's laying more comfortably on Roman, like he's bedding down for the long-haul. "I'm not moving from this spot until dinner at the earliest."

Virgil makes good on his promise. Their roommates come home to find them there, napping the afternoon away. When they wake to the smell of cooking meat, they drag themselves up from the couch and shake the blood back into their limbs. The four of them sit at the table that night to eat and talk.

Roman opens up.

And when he eventually has the money to spare, he doesn't buy a new blanket.

He doesn't need one anymore. He has them.

[leregirenga]

"No quiero ser una persona más en tu vida. Quiero ser alguien que te quite la respiración al escuchar mi voz, que suspires por el deseo de verme, que los nervios recorran tu cuerpo cada vez que quedemos, que te llene de sonrisas cada mañana con mis mensajes, que desees besarme y no separar los labios de los míos. Quiero que seas lo que tú eres para mi, la persona que amo... Y espero ser a la que amas."

[deathfavor]

@umbralui said: ❝ we belong to each other. ❞ ( and of course Mania Father for Cosmic Horror Wife, in a sense of nothing in this world can tear them apart even if it tried. the universe (him but shhh) has willed it. regardless of what takes place, they will always belong together. he will tear down the entire world if it only assured him his place right next to Dreya and hers next to him, where she belongs )

Upon utterance of such words, the perishing star turns to look to the known speaker that stays by her side. Belong. It is such as simple word and yet so deeply complex at the same time. Belonging is not a necessity; their times in existence without each other have proven such. They function perfectly fine on their own. Just because something belongs, its lack of presence does not necessarily mean damage to the mechanism or order. It is not necessity, yet it is desired all the same. For anyone to claim belonging does not matter speaks the lies they feed themselves. Even if someone does not seek to belong to a group, they yearn for a place they belong, or a purpose they belong to. A desire, but not a necessity.

Dreya does not immediately feel the need to speak. They are not necessities, but they are desires all the same. Her hand reaches out to grasp his, a delicate gesture from a force so powerful, from one he's spilled blood for and upon. Belonging. Never before had Dreya felt like another living being could understand her ; that she could find her place among or with one. He had changed that in a most unexpected way. He speaks the words with such utter conviction that it leaves no room for doubts or questions. They belonged together and that was that.

" We do. " Her voice carries like solar wind in space, flitting between each particle around them. " The stars and fabric of time and space have bore witness to this truth. It is imprinted upon them like nitinol recalls the shape upon its formation. Even if the universe shifts and changes, it will still recall this truth. "

Her own voice carries no shred of doubt or uncertainty. It is a truth she speaks as easily as she would deliver scientific information upon a paper. Such is the truth of the words and her agreement upon them. There is no need for the frivolous signs of proof others demand; they are meant to be as one and that is their truth.

[onlyhurtforaminute]

SUSPIRAL=THE ART OF DEATH

[lesdeuxmuses]

Suspiral - Delve Into The Mysteries Of Transcendence (Sentient Ruin Laboratories, 2021)

[martafelipe]

Suspiro dobrado

Que toda chatices do dia se transforme em doces suspiros. Continue reading Suspiro dobrado

[theballadofmortimerlepastorale]

SLW 2023, episode 36 (2023_10_07)

ALL VINYL BLACK METAL SET

Broadcast: KTQA-LP 95.3 FM Tacoma, streaming address at KTQA.org

01. Necrófago - Morbid Death (Passos, Brazil 1987)

Voice-Over/Intro, music in the background: Dark Day - Meadowlands/Darker Days (New York City, New York 1985/1986)

02. Vandöd - Burden Of Eden (Malmö, Sweden 2007)

03. Aenaon - Kafkaesque/Suncord (Ioannina, Greece 2011)

04. Shining - Stonelands (Stockholm, Sweden 2000)

05. SVRM - У пеклі (Kharkiv, Ukraine 2020)

Voice-Over/First Break, music in the background: Dark Day - Shod With Boots Of Ether/In Sickness And In Health(The Broken Vow)(New York City, New York 1985/1986)

06. Urfaust - De Filosofie Von Een Gedesillusioneerde (Asten, Netherlands 2020)

07. Venom - Live Like An Angel (Newcastle upon Tyne, England 1981)

08. Abigail(ABIGAIL/BARBATOS) - Descending From A Blackend/Count Barbatos (Tokyo, Japan 1993)

09. Whoredom Rife - Beyond The Skies Of God (Nidaros, Norway 2017)

Voice-Over/Top of the Hour Break, music in the background: Dark Day - The Haunted Child (Wales Whales Wails)/Lost In The Shuffle (New York City, New York 1985/1986)

10. WODE - Lunar Madness (Manchester, England 2021)

11. Hulder - Into The Crypts Of Rays (Celtic Frost cover)(Portland, Oregon 2018)

12. Leviathan - The Axis And Maw Of Inferno, Mine (San Francisco, California 2002)

13. Cénotaphe - Myosis (France 2020)

Voice-Over/Third Break, music in the background: Dark Day - Giantess(The Old Ones Come Home)/The Disappearance (New York City, New York 1985/1986)

14. Mayhem(The True Mayhem) - Pagan Fears(live)(Norrköping, Sweden 2015)

15. Darkthrone - Under A Funeral Moon (Kolbotn, Norway 1993)

16. Departure Chandelier - Life Escaping Through The Candle's Smoke (Montréal, Canada/New York)

17. Suspiral - The Crimson Void (Galicia, Spain 2019)

Voice-Over/Last Break, music in the background: end of playlist selection #17

18. Grave Upheaval - Necrose Evangelicum (Brighter Death Now cover)(Queensland, Australia 2016)

[piano-sideblog]

QUIÉN QUIERE CANTAR GRITANDO ESTA CANCIÓN CONMIGO

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Words instead of sighed and frowned?

Sighed - let out a deep audible breath or made a similar sound (such as weariness or relief)

Exhaled - breathed out

Heaved - uttered with obvious effort or with a deep breath

Huffed - emitted puffs (as of breath); usually with indignation or scorn

Insufflated - blew on, into, or in (something)

Puffed - blew in short gusts; exhaled forcibly

Snorted - forced air violently through the nose with a rough harsh sound (to express scorn, anger, indignation, or surprise)

Snuffled - breathed through an obstructed nose with a sniffing sound

Suspired - drew a long deep breath; sighed

Frowned - contracted the brow in displeasure or concentration

Glared - stared angrily or fiercely

Glouted - (archaic) frowned, scowled

Glowered - looked or stared with sullen annoyance or anger

Grimaced - distorted one's face in an expression usually of pain, disgust, or disapproval

Loured - looked sullen; frowned

Moue - a twisting of the facial features in disgust or disapproval

Pouted - showed displeasure by thrusting out the lips or wearing a sullen expression

Scoffed - expressed scorn, derision, or contempt

Scowled - contracted the brow in an expression of displeasure

Sulked - silently went about in a bad mood

Hope this helps. If it inspires your writing in any way, please tag me, or send me a link. I would love to read your work!

More: Word Lists

[lovingmayday]

i memorized the spanish lyricc of the chorus of secreto de amor bc of watching miguel edits on tiktok 😭😭😭

[deathfavor]

@sortilegii said: embraced by solitude where the laws of everything are made void, it is but inherently implied: it is only them there, two seekers, two presences who have long abandoned all that dances within the sphere of the inconsequential in pursuit of higher truths, which many have labeled "madness". ah, but what is madness if not truth that dares to defile conventions? she is a higher existence, in all respects worthy of praise of most ardent, most sincere, ceaseless. who else should be fitting to provide, if not one undying?

this, however, is given not lightly.

gloved hand is brought to further shorten distance between them. he dreads not the possibility dreya's sharp edges would cut him. this vessel of his is no useless composition of fragile bone and muscle, after all. fingertips beckoned into gentleness afforded to her alone tuck, in nigh reverential manner, strand of silvery hair behind her ear.

"give me your stars!" request is offered in murmur akin to water's voice. "in return, i may offer the bloody essence of all that i have carved myself to become, all solely for your eyes alone to witness. but, you must, oh how you must, permit me to navigate your constellations, commit them to memory, form thus the chart of you.! ( i am sorry but LSKFJFHGF that post awoke something in me )

   Dreya lingers, calm and serene in this space that is their own. It was a place that no one could reach, sans Parma, except for the rare times everything would align correctly for this realm to bleed into the main world. It was like the nebular clouds in space that blended together and gave rise to a new star. ( And, in a sense, was that not true? When her realm and the main realm met, she would arise from blood red skies – an embodiment of the Perishing Star that had forever changes the course of his world. ) For now it was their space ; a refuge for him should he need it. 

   Long before she’d become something else than just a human, touch had become something rarely encountered. Others not inclined with her studios pursuit and family often further away. Then the thought of touch had been long forgotten ; who needed in pursuit of knowledge? Much less after that when star and her had become entwined. Dreya hadn’t regarded the changes either, though she was well aware of the changes and contamination that had become something like part of her. Yet Parma neither feared it nor seemed concerned that he might nick himself on the sharpest pieces of it. He holds no apparent concern to potential consequences, whatever they might be. 

   His touch is alluring, drawing her attention towards him as he moves a strand of her hair back behind her ear. There is little time in the present to linger on that when he speaks. It’s funny, time has essentially become useless to her in that it does not affect her the same way. Yet here she’s made aware there’s none of it when words flow from his lips in hushed reverence. There is no other to hear what words they speak to each other, but there’s something appealing in the intimacy of hushed voices exchanging words together. 

   “  Parma.  “  His name falls from her lips like it’s something that the whole universe and all its stars should know and commit to memory. She listens to his words and the request that he makes of her in exchange for him. Her right hand lifts and presses to his chest – without pushing but with just enough pressure to be gently felt. Knowledge for her alone, to let her pick him apart or as she wills with all that he is in exchange to be known herself.  “  They already are yours.  “  Her voice rolls through the space between them, hushed yet powerful still. 

   Dreya trails her touch away from his chest to grasp his hand, cool skin against smooth leather as she draws it closer to her. Permission granted in gesture alone yet she speaks still.  “ They are yours to explore and map as you see fit. “ Her head tilts a fraction, a small smile brushing over her lips as she loosens her casual hold and sets him free. 

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Dispose Of Me

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Javier Peña needs you... and you're moving away in two weeks. Warnings: Smut, unprotected p in v sex (be safe IRL), oral (f receiving), reader is picked up, Javi can't stop smoking, post S3 Laredo Peña, feelings. Words: 1,800

A/N: @ohheypedrito asked me to write Javier and this is what I came up with. This is my first time writing Javi, so I hope I did him justice. @undercoverpena posted this mood board a couple of weeks ago that matched the exact vibes of this piece, I even went in and added the last line because of it. Thank you to @pascalispretty for beta'ing.

Masterlist

___

His new life haunts him. 

Fix a fence, wire the new security light, drive to town to pick up more feed, crack a well deserved beer open at dinner, fall asleep in the bed that’s too small. 

Wake up and repeat. 

Funny how the simple life feels like it’s killing him. 

He lights a cigarette, the nicotine drowning his inner turmoil; a billow of smoke suspires out of his lungs, floating away into the night sky. He wishes he could follow it far away. 

He needs you. 

___

Three quick raps against the door shocks you out of your mindless channel surfing. Javi. You fight a smile before checking yourself in the mirror, lying to yourself that you didn’t buy all the new silky lingerie for him. 

You lie to yourself a lot. You haven’t fallen for him, you don’t think about him all the time, other men have made you feel this special, you’re not going to miss him once you leave.

A quick shake of your head and a wiggle of your shoulders helps steel yourself before opening the door. Your breath hitches at the beauty… Javier Peña, the handsomest man with the biggest brown eyes and tightest Wrangler jeans you’ve ever seen lunges at you and wraps his arms around your barely covered figure. 

“Usually you call, wha–” a searing kiss interrupts you, his plush mouth sets a hungry fire inside you. 

Your body leaves the ground as Javi lifts you up into his hold, your legs instinctively enveloping his hips, hands taking hold around his thick neck as he walks to your bedroom. His lips don’t leave yours as he effortlessly navigates around your moving boxes. 

“Need you baby,” he pants against your neck. “Need you so much.” 

You’re thrown on the bed, mouth agape, lungs panting for air still recovering from his kiss. Javi swiftly undresses, his orange shirt and blue jeans fly across the room and land on your reading chair.

He flicks the light on, flooding the room with sweet tangerine hues. He stands at the foot of your bed, broad body looming, pouty lips parted underneath his downturned mustache. He’s the picture perfect example of a man in charge, standing immobile with his hands on his hips; the only movement is his wide brown eyes roaming your body. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs in his toned neck. The tension radiating off of his body reaches out and grabs your heart, making it pitter patter even harder against your chest. 

“I need you,” he whispers, his frame casting a shadow over your quivering body as he slowly climbs on the bed.

A kiss is placed against your temple; he inhales the citrus scent of your conditioner and sighs. His mouth moves down your face before parting your lips with his, his sharp nose pressing into your cheek when he deepens the kiss. He tastes of coffee and cigarettes. You melt into the bed under his weight, his tongue swirling around your mouth drinking down your gasps and mews. A soft groan rumbles out of his throat when you suck his tongue into your mouth. 

He’s different tonight. His kisses feel more desperate, the weight of him presses harder, his eyes stare harder, his voice sounds gruffer. 

He bunches the pink silk of your tank top up before covering your breast with his large hand, kneading it in his hold. 

“Javi,” you moan, feeling his hardening cock press against your panties. 

“Do you just sit around your apartment dressed like this every night baby?”

He licks his way down your neck, sucking and nuzzling his mouth against the curve of your collar bone. 

“Most– ahh– nights,” you whimper. “Usually wear it in case you call or knock on my door.”

“Fuck,” he growls. His cock grows more rigid, pressing harder against your now aching core dripping wet and waiting for him. 

His lips perch against the skin stretched across your chest, leaving a gentle kiss right where your heart beats.

“I can feel your heartbeat against my lips, hermosa.”

He cups your breasts between his hands, encompassing his head in between your flesh, his inhalation of your scent sends goosebumps through your skin… as if he’s trying to memorize every part of you before time runs out. He pulls back, tongue peeking out to wet his lips, dark eyes under pleading eyebrows staring into everything you have- body, mind, heart and soul. 

”I need you,” he rasps.

You pet his hair, running your fingers through the soft waves. 

“I know,” you whisper from your heart.

Javi. 

He turns his head, laying a wet kiss against your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. A breath of a bite hits against your sensitive skin, your fingers tug at his hair. A throaty groan encourages you to pull harder. 

He licks a stripe across taking your other nipple in his mouth– another bite, another hair tug, another throaty groan. 

He rubs his hard cock against your core, his precum soaks against your drenched panties. 

“You’re already so wet for me, aren’t you baby?”

An ache rolls through your entire body.  

“Yes Javi.”

“Yes you are, baby. Want to taste you first.” 

He settles between your thighs, jet black hair shining against your skin. 

His tongue dips in your folds, swimming through the lush wetness you’ve spilled for him. 

A lap up, a lap down, his tongue striding all along your sensitive skin. 

You sink in the abyss of his touch.

“Mm close Javi,” you sob. 

He moans a reassuring sound. His head undulating a reassuring nod taps his nose against your clit. Your hands claim his hair, pulling him even closer into you, your hips grinding against his face riding the wave of pleasure. 

You fall off the horizon, diving into the depth of your orgasm. Javier Peña is not only a giver, but also a taker, taking everything your pussy will give him. You swell underneath him, your hands pulling his soft hair, your voice screaming his name. He drinks you down like he’s a shipwrecked man.

You float atop your coral sheets, Javi’s soft kisses to your thigh anchoring you from drifting farther. 

___

“I-I need you Javi,” you muster.

His head pops up from between your legs, beautiful mouth shining with your sweetness. He licks his lips savoring the heady taste of you before he covers your body with his, crushing you, firm muscles pressing into your skin. 

“You need me?” His cock ghosts against your entrance that’s begging for something to clench around.

”Yes Javi.”

”Okay hermosa, okay.”

All at once you’re filled with Javier Peña. His hips meet yours when he plunges himself fully into your heat.

Your lungs squeal as you wrap your legs around his lower back, giving him more access to all of you. He’s deliberate in his pace, slow thrusts adoring you with each push and pull. His lips take purchase of your mouth.  

You immerse one another in the sway of each other’s bodies. 

“Two weeks,” he grunts against your lips. “I don’t think I can live without your pussy, baby.”

Your fingers clutch his taut shoulders; you don’t know if he meant to let that information out.

“I’ll miss you so much,” you confess, getting lost in his divulgence.

“Shhh, don’t talk like that,” his lips mold the words on your skin. His thumb finds your clit and rubs a slow circle around it instantly replacing your sadness with a jolt of pleasure. 

You gasp at the sensation.

“Need to make you feel good,” Javi pulls away, he stares into your eyes, “in your body and heart baby.” 

“Jaaaaaviiii,” your exhale is replaced by his name. 

He drives harder into you, your legs tighten around him, your hands grip his skin harder. 

Your bed rattles against the wall, the metal headboard clangs against the plaster. 

THUMP

“I”

THUMP

“need”

THUMP

“you.”

Your knuckles turn white against his skin as he pounds into your pussy. His eyes don’t leave yours, you’re drowning in the pools of his dark brown eyes as you orgasm, squeezing his cock and pulling him down with you, flooding him with your release.

He bites your name as he pulls out, your legs thudding against the bed as he draws his orgasm out. His focus doesn’t leave your face as thick white ropes fall on your stomach. 

Your body rocks against the soft waves of the bed, lulled to a higher place of being from Javi’s care.

He flops down next to you panting for air with his forearm resting over his forehead. 

You turn and cuddle into his side, resting your head on his broad chest.

“I need you,” Javi whispers so low you swear he’s only saying it to himself. 

Your world shifts, he tells you everything in those three words he keeps repeating. Time is frozen as you both stay silent.

___

You reach for Javi in the darkness and find your bed empty. A deep timbred sigh behind you catches your attention. You roll over blinking your bleary eyes open, gulping at the sight ahead of you. 

He stands naked by the window, a puff of smoke dissipating in the warm summer air breezing in from the open window. The sunrise paints his body in glowing umber. 

“You know I don’t like it when you smoke in here Javi.” He stamps the cigarette out and walks over to the bed. His body gleams from the yellow street light buzzing outside your window. He sits on the edge of your bed and lifts your legs into his lap. 

“You know I don’t like it when you move a thousand miles away and don’t ask me to follow you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me to do anything if I want to do it.”

“But, your dad?”

“He tells me I can leave at any time,” his hand strokes your leg, “I just haven’t had a reason to… until you.”

“Javi, don’t be ridiculous. You can’t just pick up and move away. What are you going to do there?”

“I already called the office, there’s a job waiting for me there. I just have to tell them I want it. Baby, I need you.”

___

“Good morning, I’m Javier Peña, the new head agent here. Shall we get started?”

Javi sticks his hand in his suit jacket pocket, discovering a piece of paper.

He smiles when he sees your note: Good luck on your first day! See you at home. Xxx

He reminds himself to buy you a bouquet of flowers before heading home. 

[elysiansparadise]

With the gentle caress of Neptune's blissful hand, a dreamy aura evolves. In the dawn's soft embrace, and twilight's whisper, pisces paints the sky with a suspire.

Pisces Rising: Divine Charm

They look mysterious and distant but their gaze, like the ocean, deep and profound, reflecting the emotions untold. A wise mind and soul, with a gentle and caring heart, remains protected from the dangers from outside. Many of them tended to isolate themselves, as the tensions of their early environment could be difficult to deal with. They seek calm, and would love to live in a world where they felt at peace and free to be who they truly are. They have the ability to adapt to their environments and the people they meet, making the number of people with whom they truly feel like themselves very small. Their beauty lies more in delicacy, like angels fallen to heaven, their skin is soft, their gaze slightly sleepy and many of them give an unapproachable vibe. 

From a young age they learn to achieve things on their own and we can attribute that to Aries in the 2nd house. They greatly value their independence, being able to do things their own way, because these natives highly value their independence and that clearly includes financial independence, which is why they like to make their decisions for themselves when it comes to money. Some of them may have a tendency to be somewhat impulsive with their spending, especially if Mars is making tense aspects to Jupiter or Neptune. Ambition to find stability in their lives, they fervently desire to feel powerful and not with respect to others, but with themselves and the management of their lives. They are people who have that entrepreneurial spirit, since they were young, they may have defined what they want to achieve, be it a certain status, economic position, or simply a set of things to have in the future. Some of these natives are prone to becoming demotivated quickly if they do not perceive or have tangible results, so it is necessary for them to find a way to motivate themselves. It is a kind of challenge to be more constant and persistent in your productive projects. They may possess a certain level of competitiveness and winning and/or achieving things can increase their self-esteem, especially if Mars makes tense aspects to Sun or Jupiter. It is possible that at some point in their lives they feel that to be valuable they have to achieve or have things, they may equate success with the idea of ​​"I have to create or do something.”

Talking to them is one of the most comfortable things in the world, they are responsible for not only talking to you and giving you their point of view, but also listening to you carefully, and we can see that with Taurus in the 3rd house. These natives take their time to process what is happening around them, they do not jump to conclusions, they are observant, capable of sensing when things are not as before, when there are changes around them, nothing goes unnoticed, no matter how minimal the change may be. They like clarity, that people speak with bluntness, that is, without losing tact if the situation requires it. They have a very attractive and soothing voice, and their way of speaking, the words that come out of their mouths can be a caress to the soul. They are sensible, rational and patient. They calm others with ease with their words and voice, there is something simply magnetic about them. Talent for singing and taste or interest in music. They have a great facility for creating and generating ideas, and not only that, but they also materialize them. They have aptitudes for poetry and any genre that allows them to express their feelings through letters. They may have hands-on skills, from sculpture, drawing or any form of design. They are constant people when it comes to learning something that catches their attention. They easily move the people around them, as they seek to say what they genuinely feel and think. They tend to be somewhat reserved with their thoughts at first but when they express them, they will not express them abruptly or shouting. They take their time to learn, they like to do things at their own pace and not feel pressured, as they are susceptible to stress. It is difficult to change their mind, because even if they listen to yours, it is likely that they will not stop thinking the way they do.

Since they were children, these natives questioned everything, from what surrounded them to the actions or behaviors of those who accompanied them. Pure and present curiosity for as long as they can remember, a clear representation of Gemini in the 4th house. A desire to understand others at a deep level because of the feeling of never having been understood themselves. Many of these natives experience constant changes in their home, from moving to issues of family dynamics. They may have grown up in a chaotic or changing environment; one parent may have been emotionally distant. It is likely that since they were children they have had problems, whether it be excess mental and/or physical energy, nerves or anxiety in some cases. They may have closeness and constant communication with a particular member of their families. They are very reserved people with their past and emotions, they hardly feel that they can talk about it with others. They do not enjoy small talk much, they tend to prefer deep and more meaningful conversations. These natives are fun, spontaneous and very expressive, but due to circumstances and experiences, they have learned to hide this side of them. They prioritize fluid communication with those with whom they have an emotional bond; they will always seek to make the other person comfortable to speak freely about what they feel. They may have had tense experiences in their childhood, such as dealing with people who were hypocritical or overly critical of them. They find comfort in the idea of ​​learning new things, yes, but most likely these natives have comfort series, books or movies that they return to when they don't feel well. Many of them express their discomfort, or in general any type of emotions through writing. Journaling, making poetry or simply writing can be activities that allow them to feel better and more liberated.

These natives are incredibly romantic and attentive in their relationships. They look for a relationship that allows them to be emotionally vulnerable and that is related to Cancer in the 5th house. Love with them feels like a warm blanket, which gives you warmth, protection and reaffirmation. For them there is no better sign of love than dedicating time, energy and devotion to the other person. They nourish their relationships a lot and always work on them, making necessary changes both in the dynamics of the relationship and in their love language, since they adapt to their partner's to make them feel loved. They prioritize the comfort of both themselves and their partners. Its beauty and appeal lies more on the tender, tender and soft side. They usually have attractive and sweet faces, as well as expressive eyes. Regardless of how they show themselves to the world and how they decide to face it, in their relationships they are softies, and they tend to attract people who become attached to them. They attract mysterious and reserved people with their emotions who have a huge heart. For them, a relationship equals comfort, unconditional support and a deep connection. Their partners' past matters to them as a way to understand them better. Caring and being cared for is important in the dynamics of romance for these natives to enjoy.

With Leo in the 6th house it is very likely that the native has excellent creative and/or artistic abilities. These are people who can gain a lot of recognition through their work or a skill they have worked on for a long time. In the work area they may be very loved or appreciated, they are seen as talented, capable and charismatic, however, that natural brilliance that they possess can attract envious people or people who want to steal some of their light. They are generous people par excellence, they will never hesitate to help, support or share with those they love. Having a strong work ethic, being responsible, honest and devoted are values ​​that have been instilled in them since they were young. It is likely that from childhood they were taught to work hard and value not only their own efforts but those of others. Many of these natives tend to prefer to be given compliments about their abilities, the way they do things or their results, not forgetting to mention that they can be modest or dismissive with other types of compliments, not knowing how to react to them. They like to do things that they can put their whole heart into. They need to see the importance behind a task to want to do it and will not waste their time on things that they do not perceive as genuinely useful or important to them. They have this way of doing things well or not doing them at all, they can be very demanding of themselves and of seeing tangible results. Many of these natives may experience pain in the chest and/or back if they are subjected to a lot of stress. For them it is crucial to truly love their job, because they feel that hating their job is no longer bearable for a little more money. Passion is important for them when starting a project, so if the passion runs out they will not hesitate to drop the task in question.

With Virgo in the 7th house we can observe what these natives look for in their relationships, especially those they want to maintain long term and this is reliability and mutual support. They are so used to giving a lot to others and supporting them fully no matter what, they are extremely devoted and giving to those who have the place of their heart, but it is highly disappointing when that is not given back to them. They tend to be so hard on themselves, overly self-critical of their actions in a relationship. If Mercury makes tense aspects, it is very likely that after breakups they will think that they are guilty or have a feeling of responsibility about it. They will always seek to improve their relationships, frequently asking their partners about how they feel more comfortable or how to make them feel more loved. They are looking for a reliable partner who supports and motivates them, someone who looks after their well-being and who accepts them without conditions, someone who makes them feel sufficient and happy with who they are. With this placement the natives will have a future spouse dedicated to them and the relationship, someone modest who will work hard and know how to appreciate the natives' efforts and intentions. It will be a relationship that will emerge little by little, they will get to know each other more and more and along with this, not only love but admiration will grow more and more. Both will try to resolve any issue that arises, knowing how to listen to each other and proposing solutions. Both will arrive at a point in each other's lives where they are focused on themselves whether it is improving, healing or working.

Giving and receiving equally is an internal desire that lies in Libra in the 8th house. That longing to show oneself completely to their special one and fully know the other, that fervent yearn, the need to be transparent with someone willing to be genuine with them. There is a set of internal conflicts between wanting that intense, passionate and extremely devoted connection with the fear of being vulnerable, the fear of becoming dependent on someone or that someone becomes too absorbed with them. The fear of giving everything and being betrayed. It is difficult to trust opening up and there is nothing that terrifies them more than the risk of doing so to the wrong person. Having them as a couple is an experience like no other, not only because of the passion and sensuality of these lovers, but also because of the intense and genuine devotion that they give you. They are able to love you completely, to form a connection that feels real, one in which you do not pretend to be someone you are not or one in which you do not feel like you have to be someone else. They experience great transformations during and after their relationships, they have a tendency to seek or attract deep relationships where there is a strong bond between them. They are fascinating lovers who manage to make you feel desired with a look, who through their touch transmit the whirlwind of emotions that you provoke in them. They love intensely, there is no doubt in them, all or nothing, I love you or I don't love you. They think a lot before entering a relationship, and once they are in one, they immerse themselves completely. 

These natives are constantly searching for a deep meaning to the world around them, something beyond the visible, and that need to see beyond what simple sight allows them to do is thanks to Scorpio in the 9th house. They feel a growing attraction for complex topics that mark them in some way or leave them introspective, since they spend a lot of their time in their heads, analyzing and trying to understand what seems intriguing to them. A desire to investigate topics that seem mysterious to them, inclination for spiritual topics, psychology or solving mysteries/riddles of all kinds. A lot of transformation through travel and chances of traveling to distant lands. Physical and spiritual journeys, many feelings of epiphanies throughout their lives. Fascination or fixation with a specific type of culture. A complex relationship with religion, being either very devoted to their beliefs or having experienced complex things thanks to the religious beliefs of their parents or family. Inquisitive minds, however they do not make it obvious that they know many things, they are very humble people regarding their knowledge, but they firmly trust in what they know. In them there is more knowledge than what is seen, they are very astute and although they seek to see the bigger picture, it is difficult for the details to go unnoticed, since they have the mixture of perception and strong intuition, which makes them perceive things that can be subliminal.

Natives with Sagittarius in the 10th house are curious souls by nature, people who aspire for great things and constantly dream of obtaining, achieving and being. They look for jobs that allow them to expand, intellectually, or expand their joy and emotional well-being. Many people tend to see them as genuine people who are easy to work with and people who, regardless of whether they are introverted or extroverted, will always be cordial. They can become very influential people in their work, since Jupiter, the planet of luck, rules this house, making them prone to finding success at work and easily moving or influencing people. They are likely to travel constantly and come into contact with foreign things thanks to their work. These people aspire to do good, to do the right thing and in many cases to contribute positively to the lives of others through their work. Some jobs for these people are teachers, artists, journalism, international relations, human resources, work in travel agencies, lawyers. In the eyes of the public they have charm, as they have a mixture of charisma, ambition and authenticity. Despite wanting to be recognized for their abilities, many of these natives can find it overwhelming to have a lot of attention, so they need that balance between alone time and public time.

Precisely because of their energy and sensitivity to other people's vibes, they are very selective about who they surround themselves with. Capricorn in the 11th house makes them accept their friends as they are and seek to give them a lot of support, but it is difficult for them to give that title to anyone. They prefer closed and stable circles, they take friendship seriously and can be very devoted to them. These natives have a tendency to attract friends with greater maturity or age, and they will admire the maturity and abilities of the natives. Friendships with long age differences. They may see it as a strong support for a friend/certain group of friends, finding a sense of family more in them than in their biological families. They can have great economic gains thanks to their career, from having high or important positions, or even a lot of prestige in their work. They aspire for big things and it is not enough for them to just dream, they like to make them come true and work hard to achieve them. Contrary to what one would believe with this placement, they are very ambitious and hardworking dreamers, as they will always be thinking about how to materialize everything that they have always longed to have. They believe in the power of hard work and many of them are not naive or excessively overzealous as they are projected.

The noise out there has become overwhelming, the looks of some have become heavy, all those times you felt judged, underestimated or left out for being your precious self has led you to lock yourself away, that beautiful and enormous heart and everything. That which makes you unique in a small world, where you can be safe from being viewed with disdain. People with Aquarius in the 12th house are reserved with certain sides of themselves, be it their thoughts, hobbies or in some cases feelings, on some occasions they may feel separated and different from others, the feeling of being an outsider can be common with this placement. In them lies a creative mind and an accepting soul, which seeks to know others deeply and remove from their lives everything that is superficial. They always seem very perceptive of their environment and those around them, they even generate interest in everything that allows them to know themselves and others better, as a result of a feeling of not having been understood. They have a high creative potential and can excel enormously in a hobby or one of their passions, but they may fear criticism and little acceptance from others. These people fear rejection from people, especially from those they open up to, thinking they are different. They have an open personality, they do not run away from or criticize minds other than their own, they will always try to understand and accept people. They feel that impulse in them to accept and include others because of the wound of not having been accepted themselves. In these natives lies a beautiful being, with unique ideas and emotions, who will hardly show himself completely to others, only those who inspire true confidence. Their longing and desire is to be free from these internal chains and cages that hold back those sides of their being that they feel will be judged.

[hansolsticio]

✦ — "sarà perché ti amo". ᯓ k. mingyu.

— maridinho ! gyu × leitora. — 𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗴𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗮: smut. — 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 3510. — 𝗮𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗼𝘀: lua de mel, italiano duvidoso, breeding kink, linguagem imprópria, orgasmos múltiplos, creampie, superestimulação, masturbação mútua, vocês dois têm muito tesão [😔] & o gyu tem um período refratário surreal de rápido. — 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗮𝘀: natasha, buonasera, natasha!

Os olhinhos escuros acompanharam você atravessar o quarto pela enésima vez, já queria ter terminado de se arrumar faz muito tempo, porém sempre esquecia alguma coisa dentro da mala. Nem sabia dizer o motivo da pressa, não valia a pena correr, não com Mingyu deitado na mesma posição há vinte minutos. Virou-se, a visão era de encher os olhos. A pele cor de mel contrastava com o tom alvo da roupa de cama e, por bons segundos, "David" e "Michelangelo" pareciam ser só dois nomes aleatórios. Precisou ser forte para quebrar seu próprio feitiço ou Mingyu acabaria te arrastando para o oceano que ficava embaixo das cobertas — sem precisar cantar uma nota sequer.

"Kim Mingyu. Eu vou falar pela última vez: vai logo se arrumar!", apontou a escova de cabelo na direção dele, crente que a ameaça surtiria efeito. O homem se esticou inteiro, produzindo um grunhido estranho enquanto espreguiçava. A única resposta que você recebeu foi um sorriso preguiçoso. "Gyu, é sério...", choramingou de um jeitinho exagerado, fez até bico. Ele pareceu ter pena, finalmente levantando-se da cama.

Você suspirou aliviada, voltando-se novamente para o espelho. Não demorou para que silhueta corpulenta envolvesse a sua no reflexo, como se você tivesse desaparecido — agora tudo era Mingyu. Ele retirou a escova da sua mão, colocando-a na penteadeira e circulou sua cintura com os braços. Fazia com lentidão, quase imperceptível.

"Bom dia 'pra você também.", inclinou-se para sussurrar no seu ouvido. Sorria docemente, te encarando pelo espelho.

"Bom dia.", era um mero suspiro. O calor vindo do torso firme magicamente dissipando toda a tensão anterior.

Havia se tornado uma cena frequente: você se via constantemente caindo de amores pelo homem. Suspeitava estar vivendo a versão mais intensa de uma "honeymoon phase", porém não se importava. Esperava muito que as coisas nunca mudassem entre vocês dois, queria se sentir da mesma forma por quanto tempo fosse possível.

Mingyu desceu a alça fininha do seu vestido, precisava do tecido fora do caminho. Distribuiu uma série de selos delicados no local, o contato quentinho te fez fechar os olhos. Era natural se entregar aos arrepios que os estalos molhadinhos provocavam no seu corpo.

Havia usado um vestido semelhante ao de agora quando vocês estavam visitando Vernazza. Ainda não sabe dizer qual a mágica existente nesse tipo de peça, mas era sempre mais que suficiente para deixar o homem animadinho demais numa velocidade recorde. A visita inclusive terminou de um jeito muito... interessante. Seu marido parecia não saber desprender os olhos (ou as mãos) de você.

Seus planos de tirar milhares de fotos e se entupir de todo tipo de carboidrato que só a culinária italiana poderia oferecer quase foram arruinados nesse dia. Mingyu, por falta de melhor analogia, parecia um cavalo com viseira. Só uma visão e só um pensamento: você.

"O trem 'pra Florença sai em menos de uma hora.", praticamente ronronou as palavras — sinal que ainda existia ao menos um pouco de discernimento no seu corpo.

"E se a gente ficar aqui por hoje? O tempo tá tão bom, queria nadar um pouquinho.", a sugestão foi proferida contra a pele do seu pescoço. O "aqui" se referia à Monterosso, Gyu havia escolhido a localidade a dedo, seduzido pela variedade de praias aconchegantes. Seus olhos se abriram, o homem ainda te enchia de chamego — empenhado em te conquistar.

"Amor...", manhou. Não achava que precisava falar mais uma palavra sequer, esperava ser mais convincente que ele só com isso. Seu marido te encarou pelo reflexo, sorriu bonito, enamorado pelo rostinho dengoso.

"Juro que amanhã passo todo tempo do mundo com você em Florença. Até me hospedo lá se quiser.", acrescentou à sugestão. Apanhou sua mão esquerda e beijou sua aliança, sinal de promessa.

Todo o empenho tinha uma explicação bem previsível: cansaço. A cabeça do homem doía só de pensar em como nos últimos dois dias vocês tiveram a excelente ideia de fazer jus ao nome "Cinque Terre". Turistaram por todos os cinco povoados da área, transitando por inúmeros trens, trilhas e barcos para tentar prestigiar toda a beleza das cinco terras. E ele não se arrependia nem um pouco, não entenda mal! Mas sentia que perderia boa parte da própria sanidade se ficasse mais de trinta minutos dentro de outro trem. Florença definitivamente precisaria esperar.

"Promete?", questionou e ele não escondeu a alegria ao ver que te convenceu.

"Prometo.", selou o anel outra vez.

[...]

Cada um dos seus cinco sentidos estava imerso num traço de percepção diferente. Os olhos se enchiam com o gradiente azul do mar inquieto — que, por sinal, ornava muito bem com o colorido dos sombreiros de praia —, o som das ondas se misturava com o burburinho das crianças, dava para sentir a areia nos dedos dos pés, tudo parecia cheirar à maresia e limão siciliano e você jurava que já era capaz de sentir o sabor das bebidas que Mingyu havia ido buscar para vocês dois.

Seu corpo acendia e relaxava na mesma medida. Era até meio esquisito se sentir tão contente. Sentia-se viva e via a vida acontecer. Ainda não havia descoberto o que fazer com tanta excitação e sabia que Gyu sentia o mesmo, dava para ver no comportamento dez vezes mais enérgico que o normal. O homem vivia aos sorrisos, agitado — a personalidade de 'golden retriever' nunca brilhou tanto como agora.

Ele finalmente reapareceu, segurava dois copos com o maior cuidado do mundo, se certificando de não derramar nada. Sentou-se na outra cadeira do sombreiro, te olhando com uma expectativa muito suspeita. Você até chegou a duvidar do conteúdo do seu copo, bebendo vagarosamente para ter certeza de que era o que você havia pedido — confirmou que era de fato. Mingyu ainda sustentava um olhar de criança sapeca, como quem quer pedir alguma coisa, mas não sabe como.

"Mô...", começou cuidadoso, o dengo na voz te fez sorrir de imediato. "Achei um lugar aqui perto que aluga jet ski.", citou, como se não fosse nada demais. Ah, então era sobre isso.

"E...?", era explícito, mas queria fazê-lo ir direto ao ponto.

"Bem que a gente poderia, né?"

"É você que vai pilotar?"

"Claro.", respondeu solícito.

"Eu 'tô de boa, amor.", tentou negar da maneira mais casual que conseguiu. Não adiantou, Gyu se sentiu ofendido do mesmo jeito. Te encarou por alguns segundos, os olhos estreitos, o rostinho chateado. Você até evitava olhar de volta, cairia na gargalhada se o fizesse.

"Você não confia em mim?"

"Eu me casei com você.", melhor resposta impossível.

"Então...?", ele estava especialmente teimoso hoje. E você não via problema algum em fazer as vontades do homem — a menos que elas ameaçassem sua integridade física.

"Príncipe, eu quero evitar a parte do 'até que a morte nos separe', hm?", era sério. Assistiu Mingyu segurar o riso.

"Não quer ter um momento à la Romeu e Julieta comigo?", sugeriu brincalhão e foi você quem caiu na gargalhada.

"Não mesmo. Eles morreram em Verona, não foi aqui.", deu de ombros. Se fosse para seguir o enredo, nada mais justo que vocês, ao menos, respeitassem todos os detalhes da história.

"È tutti Italia."(*), forçou o sotaque fazendo um gesto grande — adorava imitar os maneirismos que vinham junto com a língua. ["é tudo Itália"]

"Ah é? Tenta falar isso pro Shakespeare então.", argumentou. "Por que você não fica deitadinho aqui comigo e relaxa, hein?", ele estava prestes a responder, mas uma certa agitação roubou a atenção de vocês dois. Uma menininha chorava próxima ao mar, o que não era incomum, mas havia um ponto rosa muito vibrante no meio da água — não era difícil assimilar o que havia acontecido.

Você se virou para o homem, mas ele já marchava em direção ao mar antes que você sequer cogitasse falar alguma coisa. Acompanhou a cena com atenção, vendo-o resgatar a boia colorida com facilidade e marchar de volta para a areia. A garotinha já estava de volta em um dos sombreiros com um casal — que aparentavam ser avós dela. Ela recebeu o objeto timidamente, contrastando com as fervorosas exclamações de agradecimento dos italianos mais velhos.

Estava intrigada com o quão rapidamente tudo aconteceu, porém todo mundo ali foi conquistado pela simpatia de Gyu numa velocidade extraordinária. Assistia o homem gesticular e se expressar de todas as maneiras que conseguia, mesmo sem falar o idioma adequadamente — ele tinha a confiança que só um homem com treze dias de ofensiva no duolingo teria.

Seu marido ajudava a garotinha a utilizar os moldes de brinquedo com a areia, sem desviar a concentração da conversa. As palavras "bellissima" e "moglie" eram as únicas coisas que você conseguia distinguir à distância. Mingyu sorria na sua direção algumas vezes, você achava a desinibição dele uma graça — já que ela era a responsável por te tirar da sua zona de conforto em muitas ocasiões.

A menina, agora menos acanhada com a presença de Gyu, também conversava animadamente — fazia gestos grandiosos, tentando se fazer compreensível. Ele retribuía o esforço com toda a atenção do mundo, até mesmo desenhava na areia quando algo parecia não fazer sentido.

A cena fazia seu coração triplicar de tamanho, sempre se sentia mexida toda vez que via o homem interagindo com crianças. Era adorável de se ver. Mingyu era enorme, mas nesses momentos sempre empenhava-se em encolher a si mesmo, como se quisesse se fazer caber no mundinho dos pequenos.

O encanto se rompeu e deu lugar a curiosidade assim que o homem apontou na sua direção. A menina estreitou os olhos para você, como se quisesse confirmar a indicação dele. Caminhou travessa, evitando cruzar olhares. Estendeu as mãozinhas pequenas na sua frente, mostrando uma florzinha de areia colocada entre as palmas.

"Pra mim?", gesticulou, apoiando as mãos em cima do próprio peito. A garotinha pareceu entender perfeitamente, acenando tímida com a cabeça. Você apanhou a flor frágil na palma da mão, certificando-se de não quebrá-la. "Grazie, bella!", usou as poucas palavras que tinha no próprio repertório. O coração encheu-se de um senso de carinho, a menininha era adorável. O rostinho fofo te ofereceu um sorriso meio envergonhado antes de correr de volta para um Mingyu muito sorridente.

[...]

As gargalhadas encheram a trilha e os corredores do hotel, você e seu marido pareciam duas crianças. Corriam apressados, os dedinhos entrelaçados, tentavam escapar da chuva repentina que começara a cair quando ainda estavam na praia — não esperavam o fenômeno naquele dia, estava ensolarado demais. Você nunca agradeceu tanto pela estadia à beira mar, não tiveram que correr muito, então seria difícil pegar um resfriado desse jeito.

Começaram a se despir assim que entraram no quarto, num acordo silencioso de que tomariam banho juntinhos. Mingyu te agarrou pela cintura, suspendendo seu corpo para te fazer enlaçar as pernas no quadril dele, ficou agarradinha como um coala. Você envolveu o homem num beijo gostoso, mas que era interrompido por ele a cada estalinho, Gyu era péssimo fazendo mais de uma coisa ao mesmo tempo — precisava se separar para ter certeza de que estava indo para o lugar certo.

A confirmação do êxito dele veio com a água morninha que caiu entre os corpos de vocês dois, lavando toda a areia e maresia. Você não parecia querer soltá-lo nem por um segundo, era até meio agressiva. Mordiscava os lábios vermelhinhos, sorvendo-os com muita necessidade. Os dedinhos já se emaranhavam no cabelo de Gyu, puxando os fiozinhos com carinho. O corpo balançava, atritava as peles, simulando uma dança gostosa. Mingyu sorria bobo, desconcertado com a sua mudança repentina.

"O que você tem, hm? Vai acabar arrancando um pedaço de mim.", sussurrou contra os seus lábios, ainda tentando retribuir o beijo quente. Não satisfeita, você mordiscou a boca dele mais uma vez — como se realmente quisesse arrancar pedaço.

"Não sei... só digamos que você fica muito atraente brincando com crianças.", tentou fazer pouco da situação, como se ter assistido a cena não tivesse realinhado todos os seu chakras.

"Fico é?"

"Sim. Talvez a gente devesse fazer uma filha também. Você ficaria mais atraente ainda.", não cessou os carinhos, tentando afastar o fato de ainda não ter conversado sobre isso diretamente com o homem. Mingyu te afastou de repente, as mãos moldando o seu rosto.

"Não brinca comigo desse jeito, amor.", soltou um risinho pelo nariz, totalmente incrédulo.

"Eu não tô brincando."

"Tem certeza?", selou sua boca sem te deixar responder. "Quer fazer uma filhinha comigo?", você finalmente concordou com a cabeca, sorrindo acanhada. "Porra, eu te amo tanto...", te puxou para outro selo afobado, a excitação era grande demais para conter dentro do corpo. "A gente vai fazer uma família e você vai ser minha.", mais um. "Só minha."

"Eu tava com receio de ser cedo demais, mas acho que não consigo mais esperar, Gyu.", você sorria amorosa, muito satisfeita com a reação do homem. "O que você acha?"

"Acho que não vou te deixar sair desse quarto até ter certeza de que eu te engravidei.", era como se você pudesse ver a luz deixando os olhos do homem — duvidava se conseguiria andar direito amanhã, talvez Florença precise esperar mais um dia. "Vou deixar essa buceta tão cheinha, amor.", os selos carinhosos naturalmente se transformando em algo mais sujo, os dígitos geladinhos alcançando seu íntimo. Apertava o clitóris sensível entre os dedos, a boquinha agora ocupada demais em mamar os biquinhos dos seus seios.

Sua mão alcançou o pau pesadinho, queria fazer carinho nele também — não havia nada mais justo. E antes que pudessem perceber, estavam presos num transe prazeroso, brincando com o corpo um do outro do jeito mais gostoso que sabiam fazer. Mingyu foi o primeiro a fraquejar, estava sensível demais, pulsando no aperto das suas mãos. Os dedos trêmulos te invadiram sem aviso, estocando e abrindo sua entradinha com urgência.

"Vira 'pra mim", murmurou o pedido afobado. Encaixou a glande vermelhinha assim que você obedeceu, sua boquinha se abriu, surpresa com a invasão repentina. Ele precisou bater só mais um pouquinho para finalmente esporrar na sua entradinha. "Aperta a bucetinha 'pra mim. Deixa tudo guardadinho aí dentro, ouviu?", dava para escutar o sorrisinho safado na voz. Você concordou sapeca, deixando ele te arrastar para fora do banheiro.

A pele molhada arrepiou assim que entraram no quarto novamente, o ausência do vapor ofereceu uma mudança drástica na temperatura. Mingyu parecia não se importar, o corpo forte esquentava o seu por trás, andavam de um jeito meio desajeitado. Ele não conseguia te soltar. As mãos grandes te apertavam, forçando seu quadril contra o dele — a ereção evidente roçando na sua bunda. Ficou de quatro assim que chegaram à borda da cama, se empinou inteira, foi totalmente involuntário. Seu corpo implorava para que você se submetesse ao homem, sentia todos os seus músculos tensionando só de pensar em deixá-lo fazer o que quisesse com você.

Num movimento só ele te virou sem dificuldade alguma, basicamente te jogou de costas no colchão. Foi tão repentino que ele conseguiu a proeza de te libertar do estado quase hipnótico que o tesão havia criado na sua mente. Seu peito tremeu numa gargalhada incrédula. Ele te olhava em choque com a própria ação, mas também riu assim que o seu semblante assustado se dissipou.

"Mingyu!"

"Desculpa, não era 'pra ser tão forte assim.", te deu um sorriso amarelo, quase envergonhado. No entanto, já era costumeiro que Gyu esquecesse a força que tinha — era pura altura e músculos, só que ainda precisava aprender a se lembrar desse fato nos momentos certos.

Abaixou-se sorrateiro, abrindo suas pernas para acomodar o próprio quadril ali no meio. Agarrou seu maxilar, a mão larga envolvendo suas bochechas sem dificuldade alguma. Roçou a boquinha na sua algumas vezes, afastando-se de propósito quando você chegava perto só para provocar. Finamente cedeu à sua raiva fingida, abriu seus lábios com os dedos, deixando a própria língua brincar dentro da cavidade morninha. Arrumou os fiozinhos perdidos do seu cabelo, te olhando com carinho.

"Quero ver seu rostinho enquanto eu tiver te fodendo.", forçou ainda mais a abertura das suas perninhas, erguendo-as em direção ao seu peito, totalmente exposta. "O que foi que eu te pedi, hein? 'Tá escorrendo, amorzinho.", espalhou o líquido esbranquiçado com o polegar. "Vou ter que socar tudo 'pra dentro de novo.", o dedinho entrou devagar. "Encher esse buraquinho com mais porra. Só 'pra garantir.", você mordia o próprio lábio, sabia que ele te via contraindo em volta do dígito. O homem se reposicionou. "Tudo bem se for assim?", questionou, esfregando a cabecinha nas suas dobrinhas. Você concordou de imediato, estava com tesão demais para se importar com qualquer coisa.

Entrou devagarinho, os dois pares de olhos hipnotizados no ponto onde vocês se conectavam. Não poupou tempo, estocando assim que te viu relaxar. Saía quase completamente, fazendo questão de socar o pau inteirinho quando voltava. O olhar vidrado na cena, assistindo a bagunça molhadinha. A mão pesada afundou a parte mais baixa do seu ventre. Seus olhos duplicaram de tamanho, um gritinho saiu completamente involuntário. A ação sobrecargou seu corpo, tentava se agarrar aos lençóis já que o aperto firme do homem mal deixava você se mover direito.

"Eu 'tô tão fundo, amorzinho. Tá me sentindo aqui?", pressionou com mais força. Seus olhos reviraram, cobriu a boca com a parte traseira da mão, mordendo o próprio pulso — tinha certeza que os seus chorinhos escandalosos eram ouvidos nos quartos vizinhos, tentava não ser tão barulhenta. O homem não se importava, estocou com mais velocidade, adorava te ver soluçando. As lágrimas já adornavam os olhinhos brilhantes, prestes a desabar.

Mingyu já havia te feito chorar de prazer vezes suficientes para saber que não precisava se preocupar — tinha total noção do que você estava sentindo. O líquido brilhante finalmente se derramou no seu rosto, o homem sorriu em satisfação, os caninos afiadinhos muito evidentes. Foi o bastante para que ele se derramasse dentro de você também. A mão ágil esfregou seu pontinho algumas vezes, te fazendo gozar num aperto gostoso.

Caiu exausto do seu lado, a respiração audível enchia o cômodo. Você aproveitava as últimas sensações do orgasmo, já sentindo falta do efeito gostoso que aquilo causava no seu corpo. Definitivamente não estava em seu melhor estado de espírito, afinal não demorou nada para montar no colo de Mingyu. Ele te olhou desacreditado, os olhos implorando por clemência antes mesmo que ele pudesse abrir a boca.

"O brinquedinho é meu. Eu uso quantas vezes eu quiser.", cortou qualquer argumento do homem, ele sequer conseguiu contestar. Encaixou ele de novo, sentando com calma. Era uma meia-ereção, mas era mais do que suficiente para te fazer gozar de novo. Com certeza não duraria muita coisa, só que isso não importava. Os músculos das suas pernas já tremiam de exaustão, mas você não conseguia parar de sentar. Ele estava indo tão fundo, te acertando tão gostoso, não queria abrir mão do estímulo.

O jeitinho quebrado do seu marido só te incentivava a ir mais forte. Mingyu suava, o rosto vermelhinho retorcido num aperto muito doloroso. Hiperventilava, o peito subia e descia rapidamente, até deixava alguns sons manhosinhos escaparem. Ele nem arriscava mais colocar as mãos no seu corpo, sabia que se te apertasse iria machucar — estava superestimulado demais.

"Goza, Gyu. Porra, me engravida vai...", choramingou desorientada, nem sabia mais o que estava falando — e muito menos como ainda conseguia falar alguma coisa. Mingyu pareceu perder o restante do controle, forçou seu quadril para baixo se enterrando completamente dentro de você. O abdômen se contraia inteiro enquanto ele esporrava lá no fundo. Você quebrou junto com ele, o orgasmo bateu forte, nem sabia em que se segurar. Cravou as unhas no peitoral firme, a boca abertinha incapaz de produzir som algum.

[...]

Não dava para saber se o seu marido estava acordado ou adormecido — o homem mal se mexia. O peito já fazia um movimento vagaroso, a respiração era quase escassa. Não o culpava, tinha noção de que havia sugado toda a energia do corpo dele. Mas ainda estava meio inquieta, uma voz no fundo da sua cabeça insistiu que você perguntasse:

"Você falou sério mesmo...?", o volume não ultrapassava um sussurro.

"Sobre o quê?", o tempo de resposta foi lento, a voz arranhava a garganta.

"Aquilo de querer construir uma família comigo, sabe? 'Pra sempre.", ele demorou mais ainda para responder, você até chegou a cogitar a possibilidade dele já estar dormindo.

"Eu abriria mão de tudo pelo seu amor, mesmo que eu não tivesse mais nada...", não demorou para que você reconhecesse a citação. Era a parte final dos votos de Mingyu, palavra por palavra, como se estivessem tatuados dentro da garganta. Porém faltava uma frase. O homem apertou os olhos fechados por alguns segundos — como se forçasse o próprio cérebro a se lembrar de algo. "...sei tutto ciò che ho."(¹), a frase saiu de um jeitinho enrolado e sonolento. Soava familiar, mas você queria ter certeza:

"O que você disse?", os olhinhos perdidos se abriram, buscando pela sua mão esquerda de um jeito atrapalhado. Não te surpreendeu quando o homem selou o aro brilhante em volta do seu dedo anelar.

"Que eu te amo."

¹ - "você é tudo o que eu tenho".

# — © 2024 hansolsticio ᯓ★ masterlist.

n/a: esse final foi horrível de meloso, mas eles literalmente estão numa lua de mel, não sejam amarguradas ♡.

[flan-tasma]

He's a gentle lover

💖~ It was just Diluc, but then everyone fell into the same hole. I'm not complaining about that btw.

I have just finished a homework assignment of almost forty pages and my hand is hurting, my very strong and beloved menthol has carried me through the whole week.

Warning: Smut, not very dirty, lovely I guess idk(?, Fem!Reader maybe | English is not my native language, so if I have made any mistakes in the translation, I am open to corrections | Content in spanish and english!

Spanish:

Él era tierno, gentil. Con sus manos que te brindan calor con cada caricia, cuando levanta tu mentón para que lo veas y le permitas besarte. Siempre es tan gentil, un amante cuidadoso que te desviste con lentitud y traza tu piel con sus dedos.

Le gusta cuando no lleva guantes, pues sus manos toscas y rasguñadas te sostienen con firmeza y confianza, sabiendo cuál es el curso adecuado para que suspires contra sus labios.

Adora besar tu cuello, chupando y lamiendo la carne hasta que llega a tu escote y muerde, siempre buscando tus ojos para saber que te gusta lo que hace.

Jadea cuando ve que arrugas las sábanas, hundiendo tu cabeza contra la almohada con los ojos cerrados y cristalinos. Él bebe la sal y el azúcar de tu imagen, de tu piel y se emborracha hasta que sólo puedes chillar cuando se hunde en tu interior, descansando después de haberte arruinado lo suficiente.

No necesitas pensar, no necesitas meditar, ni elegir. Él lo hará por ti, él te cuidará con la mayor dulzura posible que se le resbala de la garganta mientras te mira a los ojos, esperando que tú también lo veas y que lo ames de la misma forma que él te ama.

No necesita que lo montes o que lo dejes follarte la boca, eso puede quedar para otra ocasión. Solo míralo con la misma adoración, sostén su rostro mientras te hace el amor lentamente y acaricia tus tetas y tus hombros, déjale escuchar tus gemidos como susurros en sus oídos. Él quiere ser egoísta contigo, guardarte para que nadie más que él pueda verte de esta manera, sollozando y llamando su nombre, mientras que él te responde con ternura y te hace suspirar.

No quiere que nadie se robe tu figura, ni la luna ni las estrellas que se asoman por la ventana. Solo quiere retenerte para él, hoy y siempre, así que déjalo hacerte el amor en la oscuridad, solo compartiendo su unión por las pocas velas que los alumbran y les reflejan los ojos cuando llaman al otro.

Diluc, Zhongli, Xiao, Baizhu, Kazuha, Tighnari, Alhaitham, Neuvillette.

English:

He was tender, gentle. With his hands that give you warmth with each caress, when he lifts your chin so you can see it and allow him to kiss you. He is always so gentle, a careful lover who undresses you slowly, tracing your skin with his fingers.

He likes it when he doesn't wear gloves, because his rough, scratched hands hold you firmly and confidently, knowing the right way for you to sigh against his lips.

He loves kissing your neck, sucking and licking the flesh until he reaches your cleavage and bites, always searching your eyes to know you like what he is doing.

He gasps when he sees you crumpling the sheets, burying your head back in the pillow with your eyes closed and glassy. He drinks the salt and sugar from your image, from your skin, getting drunk until he can only scream as he sinks into you, resting when he has ruined you enough.

You don't have to think, you don't have to meditate, you don't have to choose. He will do it for you, he will take care of you with the greatest possible sweetness that slips from his throat as he looks into your eyes, hoping that you see it too and that you love him as much as he loves you.

He doesn't need you to ride him or let him fuck your mouth, that can be left for another time. Just look at him with the same adoration, hold his face while he slowly makes love to you, caressing your tits and shoulders, letting him hear your moans as whispers in his ears. He wants to be selfish with you, to hold you so that no one but him can see you like this, sobbing and calling out his name as he responds tenderly and makes you sigh.

He doesn't want anyone to steal your shape, or the moon, or the stars that look out the window. He just wants to keep you for himself, today and always, so let him make love to you in the dark, sharing your union only with the few candles that illuminate you and reflect your eyes when you call the other.

Diluc, Zhongli, Xiao, Baizhu, Kazuha, Tighnari, Alhaitham, Neuvillette.