#thanks for the ask this is a really good question actually
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Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 7
Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, suggestive themes!, there’s some slight smut… but nothing too graphic (ion rly write smut haha), angst and comfort, this chapter’s brought to you by: a bunch of sad songs on repeat! A/N: 7k+ words what the fuck!! (this might actually be one of my favorite chapters. :’))
Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7
“You don’t have a favorite color.”
“I… don’t, no.”
“But you’re quite partial to green.”
“I guess so—?”
“You’ve worn the same green shirt to bed thrice this week,” he notes lightly, pertaining to your Loki: Master of Mischief tee. The corners of his mouth pull into a faint, knowing smile. “It suits you, by the way.”
Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you glance at him, narrowing your eyes in slight embarrassment. “It’s a perfectly comfy shirt,” you reply, a defensive edge to your tone. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“Nothing at all,” he agrees reassuringly. “Just making an observation.”
“What, are you keeping a dossier on me now?”
Sylus gives a noncommittal hum, but offers nothing more in response. He keeps watch on you from his usual spot in the corner between the monitor and the CPU box, chin resting on an open palm. His gaze betrays hints of smugness to it.
You eye him weirdly. With a huff, you turn back to your typing.
–
You’re cooking dinner—with Sylus supervising the entire thing like your very own personal sous chef. Something that has now been the norm for you two, since your–banging!–success with the tofu dish.
And for tonight’s menu: Butter noodles. Simple, foolproof, straightforward.
"Simple" is… well, it’s not entirely inaccurate. But the way that the boiling water hisses angrily through the small lid hole wavers the already shaky foundation of your developing culinary confidence.
(Just a little bit! You’re sure you’ve got nothing to worry about.)
A faint burning scent clings to the air; you forgot to stir the garlic early on, and now it looks dangerously close to a char. You rescue it just in time, cursing under your breath. Your sous chef, of course, catches everything. Even your nervousness.
“You know,” Sylus chimes in, watching the wooden spatula tremble in your hand. “This is quite the step up from your usual instant noodle packets. You should be proud of yourself, sweetie.”
“Gee, thanks. Really complex work for an extra half-hour of cooking time,” Your words are snide, but he doesn’t miss the way your grip on the spatula tightens ever-so-slightly. Steadies.
The smell stabilizes. You add half a stick of butter, squashing it to a melt, and he lets the subject drop—for now.
“Do you have siblings?”
“I have an older sister,” you answer distractedly, stirring the sauce and trying to scrape the edges of the sauté pan without having it splatter from the inside.
“How much older?”
“Uh—six years,” you reply, reaching for a pinch of salt. “She's got a family. Two kids. Another on the way.”
“Hm. You two are close?”
You pause, the question landing softly in the haze of rising steam. “I mean. S’ alright, I guess. We catch up over the phone sometimes.”
“Ah. Good.”
“... Yeah.”
You catch a glance of his expression in your peripheral, looking thoughtful.
_
It’s a recent development, his curiosity. Sporadic at first, like light rain on a windshield—little questions scattered here and there, easy to brush off. But over the past week, it’s grown into something more unrelenting. It’s almost as if you two were playing a round of twenty questions, only it’s just you in the hot seat being interrogated.
There’s also that habit of his to take it one step further. Hedging his questions strategically, acting like he already knows the little factoid he wanted to ask and just needs you to confirm it.
You don’t really get the logic behind it, but hey, who are you to judge? Everybody has their quirks. Even someone of his caliber, apparently.
… God forbid he gets blindsided by something he’s genuinely surprised to know about you, though.
“You know how to play the violin.”
You pause the video you’re watching on your laptop at its five minute mark to stare at Sylus through your phone screen. He sounds… terse? Like you’d intentionally kept this a secret from him.
“Wha—yes, I know how to play the violin,” you huff, incredulous by the show of attitude. “What’s up with all these weird questions?”
“You’ve given me explicit permission to ask them. Level the playing field,” he reminds you, eyes slightly accusatory. “What else are you keeping from me?”
You groan, collapsing onto your back on the couch. “Ugh, I don’t know,” you say sarcastically. “Do you wanna know my time of birth too?”
“Born at exactly twelve twenty-eight PM,” Sylus recites without missing a beat, his voice bored and unimpressed. “I saw it on your Co-Star app, sweetie.”
You freeze.
“…”
“That’s creepy,” you tell him, tone disapproving, giving him a scolding poke on the nose.
“Call it thorough research,” he counters smoothly, rolling his eyes at your feeble attack. “After all, a stubborn kitten’s been slacking on her side of the deal.”
_
The questions are, for the most part, harmless in nature. Anchored firmly in the mundane. He doesn’t stray too far from what’s comfortable, or what he deems safe to ask. And yet you can sense it beneath the surface: the burning curiosity. To know more of you, to take what he could—piece by piece, until he’s unraveled the puzzle of you entirely.
And you don’t get it. His world—filled with endless adventure, lore, and literal fucking superpowers—surely has to be more exciting than anything you’ve got to offer. What’s your life compared to that?
You said as much to him, mostly as an offhand comment. Although it did feel slightly more earnest when you put it into words, compared to how it sounded in your head.
“Honestly, Sy-Sy. Life here’s really not that interesting compared to all the stuff going on over there,” you told him matter-of-factly, in the middle of collecting your daily rewards. “You don’t have to keep this up, you know.”
Sylus didn’t speak for a moment. The easy nonchalance he wore so well shifted into something more reserved, almost somber. He didn’t challenge what you said, nor did he affirm anything—you're met with silence, loaded with thoughts unspoken.
“Don’t presume things on your own, little dove,” he said after a while, his voice low, a gentle reprimand.
Before you could even process what he meant by that, he smoothly changed the subject, his tone reverting back to his usual effortless calm as if to ease the weight of your words. “Now then, let’s circle back—what were you saying earlier? You almost drowned in a lake when you were eight? Because of a dare you made with your sister?”
And that was the end of it.
You tell yourself it’s exhausting—the way he keeps digging, prodding, asking questions like you’re worth the level of fascination he’s making you out to be. But there’s also the truth, hidden and tucked beneath your half-hearted protests, slowly unfurling. A part of you—cautiously hopeful, dreadfully fragile—that preens under the weight of his scrutiny.
So you let him press further; let him sift through twenty plus years of tiny, unremarkable fragments of your life like a beachcomber seeking treasures amongst the tide. And in return, he gives you his full attention, undivided and unyielding, as if your answers are the only ones that matter.
––––
He tells you there’s a new tête-à-tête feature in the game, so you check it out—not without giving him a slightly suspicious look.
“A microphone feature?” You snort, leveling him with a half-amused glare. “You already hear me talk all the time.”
Sylus blinks at you, his face a guilefully-crafted mask of innocence. “I’m just giving you the option, sweetie. You know, in case you’d like to put our conversations ‘on record.’”
“Treat you like some kind of… quasi-therapist or something? An online confessional?” You give him the stink eye. “Is that what you’re angling for now?”
He shrugs. “If it helps.”
_
You had no intention of using the tête-à-tête “feature” you’ve been so graciously offered, quickly dismissing it as just another one of his tactics to show off his capacity to manipulate the game’s code, or something along those lines.
It’s not the first time he’s done it.
But then, midnight comes on a deceptively ordinary Friday, and it’s suffused with an all-too familiar feeling of utter emptiness that drowns you. You’re crumpled on the toilet seat like chewed-up gum, knees pulled to your chest—the day’s wounds still festering. It's not anything new, but it leaves you feeling like shit all the same.
Yet another overtime shift. Yet another argument with your mom, over fuck all you know that you’re too damn old for, but still, still, finds its way to cut deep. Over and over, and over again.
Your phone’s blank screen stares back at you, just as mute and useless as the rest of the night. And you—
“Sweetie?”
You can’t speak. Not yet. But you don’t have to. One look at the exhaustion on your face is enough for Sylus to know exactly what you need.
Your mouth trembles open, then shuts again. He doesn’t say anything else, just waiting for you to make the first move. To start whenever you’re ready.
After a long moment, you finally exhale a shaky breath. That’s when you catch his gaze; fixed, patient, almost... encouraging. It’s a subtle invitation, urging you to take the plunge, to make use of him to an extent only he can provide–the only one he could offer to you at this time–
So, you talk. Tentatively at first, the words slipping out like droplets from your leaking sink faucet. But once the dam breaks, you can't stop.
It spills out. Every frustration, every ache, every moment that feels too much to carry for one person, especially for someone like you, and he… he just—
listens.
-
-
-
You feel drained. Every ounce of energy wrung out of you after unloading the day’s weight to your unexpected confidant.
“That helped, didn’t it?”
If it were anyone else—or if you didn’t know Sylus the way you do now—you’d only catch the smug notes in his voice. The teasing lilt and the airy pretense of someone trying to ease the heaviness out of the room.
But you do hear it. Beneath the surface, woven so subtly into the words… something vulnerable.
You hear the unspoken question behind it: he’s genuinely asking if it helped. If his presence, however small or inconsequential it might seem, was enough to pull you back ashore.
I helped.
Tell me I did.
“You did, Sy.” Your grin is tired, grateful, and a little lopsided. But it’s real. “Thank you.”
For a moment—just a split of a second—the red in his eyes betrays something achingly raw.
“Anytime, darling,” he says, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges, like it’s carrying more than the words themselves. “I mean it.”
And like a beacon of light slicing through the storm-tossed seas of your mind, you realize that he truly does.
____
You start giving Sylus the reins to select the music, trusting his taste enough to let him DJ for you. He picks the soundtrack for everything—cooking, errands, long rides—filling the silence with something that he knows the both of you would like.
The playlists grow. From one, to two, to almost an entire collection of carefully curated tracks to suit the mood and vibe of the day. He takes it seriously—so seriously that you can’t resist sneaking in a Megan Thee Stallion track onto his precious “Slow Evenings” playlist.
He finds it hilarious. Hilarious enough to loop Kitty Kat for all sixty-five minutes of your commute back home.
You laugh despite yourself. It’s exactly the type of shit you know he’d pull as petty retribution, already intimately familiar with his brand of humor. And if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine him beside you, sharing an earbud, smirking as he revels in your exasperation.
____
One night, you notice a weariness in his eyes. It’s an odd enough thing to see that it leads to a discussion on what he’s been up to as the shadowy leader of a notorious faction, deep in a lawless part of his universe.
“Just an operative gone wrong, sweetie,” he says with a sigh, rubbing a temple as though trying to physically push the stress away. “It happens.”
You press him on the details of the botched deal—and maybe, just maybe, a small part of you is excited to live vicariously through the tale. But it’s not about you this time, you remind yourself. So you listen as Sylus indulges every question you throw at him, giving you the play-by-play: what the deal was for (special, hard-to-get protocores), where the trade-off occurred (west of Charon), and how it all went sideways (he knew it was a set-up the moment he walked into the venue).
You don’t really know how to comfort him in a situation like this, but you want to try.
In an attempt to lighten the mood, you joke, “Can you imagine clumsy, ol’ me there? I’d be dead before I even make it inside.”
Sylus freezes, his expression going still. Unreadable.
“No, you won’t.” He says in response to the second part of what you just said, his tone brooking no doubt. He says it with such intense conviction that you almost believe this exact hypothetical has already crossed his mind—more than once.
I won’t let you.
Before you can even think of what to say, he adds, quieter this time, but no less convinced: “And yes—I can.”
It’s a direct answer to your question, and it makes the words die in your throat. His voice is softer now too, but there’s no mistaking his tone. It has the same conviction from before, and it hits you that he’s had time to ruminate on this thought—more times than he’d care to admit.
And I do. You have no idea.
____
There’s another shift in the dynamic of your, well, relationship.
“Did you hear what I said, poppet?”
You snap back to meet his inquiring gaze, unwavering as always.
“Sorry, can you repeat that?” You ask, the apology clear in your eyes.
He huffs, shaking his head in amusement—always patient, never annoyed—at your inattentiveness. “What’s on your mind, my sweet?”
Well. That.
Lately, Sylus has gotten into the habit of using possessive pronouns like they’re nothing. There’s also a notable increase on the variation of pet names too, each one more layered than the last.
It’s a little excessive, honestly. Like he’s trying to compensate for something—or maybe he sees it as just another natural step in whatever’s going on between you two. You’re still not sure what exactly goes in his head. He’s always been an enigma to you.
And yet, you never put a stop to it. How could you?
Little dove. Sweet girl. My darling.
When it comes off his lips like sunkist honey—each one brings a jolt straight to your heart.
You're quite partial to one in particular.
My love.
____
“Oh, my love,” Sylus tuts, feigning concern. “You’ve snoozed that alarm five times already.”
You groan, hitting the snooze button again—number six now—burying your face in your arms on the desk.
____
You’re attending a despedida party for a friend who’s flying abroad to study (For a PhD in Biomedical Science! You couldn’t be more proud.) and the venue’s going to be at The Penthouse, somewhere fancy up north. It even has an infinity pool on deck, something the celebrant dropped into the group chat with far too much enthusiasm.
So, earlier today, you’d ventured out to buy something nice for yourself. Nicer than what you have in the closet, which isn’t much of a stretch. Something different than your usual rotation of plaids and band shirts—not that there’s anything wrong with them. They’re just… you. Comfortable. Predictable. Not exactly the dress code for a rooftop soirée.
Now, you’re back home from a successful (!) trip to the mall, bags in hand: a small gift for your friend on one arm and a much larger shopping bag on the other.
You set the gift gently on the coffee table. Then, you head to the bathroom, the grosgrain ribbon of a paper tote held tight in your fist.
The pretty fabric caught your eye almost immediately, the moment you saw the garment; its sheen almost like woven liquid in the light. It felt like a risk, even on the rack. But under the unforgiving glare of your bathroom bulb?
Well, now, it’s looking less of a “bold choice,” and more along the lines of: “damn, what were you thinking?”
It’s not that big of a deal or anything. You like feeling pretty. But at the same time, you haven’t deluded yourself into thinking that you’re anything above average to look at, even on the nicest occasions.
It’s something you’ve grown used to, a definitive truth ingrained deep in your bones. You know this—like you know gravity tethers you to the ground, even when you’d rather be carried by the wind. You’ve gone through more than a decade to accept it as just another fact of life, to make peace with the reflection staring back at you from the bathroom mirror.
Even if it means you’ll never be on the receiving end of ‘interested’ glances from strangers on the street. Or that you’ve never known the feeling of someone doing a double take when they see you at your best, all dolled-up. More than once, you’ve sat across from dates whose eyes wandered—toward some other, someone better-looking, in restaurants, at parks, even outside the movies. Everywhere past your direction.
But that’s okay. You’re used to it, the same way you’ve grown used to everything else.
And still, there’s that impulse—a sudden need for someone else’s opinion. Someone close. Someone that matters.
There’s a pang of fear you can’t quite shake. You hear the small voice from the deep recesses of your mind, whispering to you that it’s one of your worse ideas. That you’ll fall short of any and all expectations, and that it’ll hurt more this time around. You’ll hear the polite, “you look nice” and you’re gonna have to live with the quiet certainty that you don’t, not really, and that you’ll never quite measure up to what he’s used to seeing. To her—
You swallow hard. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do that to you. Not outwardly, at least.
And if he did… Well.
“I bought something,” you say as an opener, the words tumbling out in a rush as soon as you get a glimpse of his form on the screen. You’re rocking back on your heel, a little awkward as you stand there in front of your small vanity table even with your phone laid flat, front camera pointing upwards. “You remember the going-away party I’ll be attending two days from now, right?”
“Of course, the one for your secondary school batchmate.” Sylus replies easily, voice reverberating through the tinny speakers. Even at an angle, you can see the confused tilt of his head. “Is it on the ceiling, sweetie? What am I looking at, exactly?”
“No, smartass. I—” You press your lips together, eyes flitting upward, as if courage might be dangling from the ceiling in question.
Fuck, this is a bad idea. I can’t do this.
“It’s–I bought something for myself. I mean, I bought her a gift too, obviously. But I also bought an outfit. For the party.”
There.
He blinks, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head. Realization dawns on his face, a knowing smile beginning to form. His voice dips, a teasing edge to it as he purrs, “Oh? Well then, save me from the suspense, sweetheart.”
“I–I’m getting to it, okay?” It comes out a little snappier than you intend, nerves flaring hot. You sigh, feeling your shoulders drop. “I’m just… Don’t be—ugh, just don’t make a big deal out of this, alright?”
You keep your eyes off the screen, unable to face him directly.
But when he speaks, his tone carries only a quiet understanding of your struggle.
Of course he understands. He always does.
He speaks; and it’s slow and measured—as if he’s coaxing a terrified, cornered animal out of hiding.
“Show me.” Trust me.
And so with a heavy exhale through the nose, you flip the front camera towards your direction, revealing the bare expanse of gooseflesh skin—
… And the flimsy one-piece that clings to your body like wet plastic.
It dips low between the valley of your breasts and stops short just halfway up your thigh. The material is a gauzy organza; see-through and light, in seafoam green. Barely leaving anything to the imagination as it reveals the dusky coral swimsuit from underneath the fabric and the hot flush that spreads across your chest like wildfire. Your fists clench and unclench behind your back – hiding the physical manifestation of your rising anxiety – while you shift your weight from one foot to the other.
There's a deafening silence.
The knots in your stomach grow tighter, creeping its way past your lungs. Your fingers tremble as cold sweat breaks out across your skin, chilling you from the inside. You feel horribly exposed. So exposed it’s almost unbearable.
And you still can’t bring yourself to look at him.
Your thoughts stumble, desperate to cling to anything solid, and a faint memory surfaces—a passage from an org pamphlet you’ve skimmed through back in college, something that has to do with “self-perception.”
The flesh does not define you.
Your body is but a facet of who you are. You are as inconsequential as the earth beneath your feet, and as important as stardust in the universe.
A low, guttural sound cuts through the stillness, and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.
You—
“Look at me.”
A searing heat laces the cadence of his voice. It sounds restless—like a flame unchecked, rapidly growing into a raging inferno. Stifling in the way it pulls the air from your lungs, like a suckerpunch to the gut.
Your primordial instinct is to flee. But right at that very moment, you're no different from a paralyzed insect caught in an inescapable web with the way you’re stood frozen in place. Every instinct to run is smothered by the mere inflection in his voice.
—are all. And that is all there is to be.
“My sweet little dove,” it’s almost a croon, the way the words curl around you like wisps of smoke. Sickly saccharine… downright serpentine. “Won’t you look at me when I talk to you?”
And like a marionette on a string, you obey.
-
Time seems to stop to a standstill the moment your eyes meet his.
Sylus’ gaze sinks into you. Loaded. Heavy. A crazed glint, almost—to it. Even to someone like you who's embarrassingly clueless about the nuances of attraction and wholly inexperienced in its depths can see it as plain as day.
Carnal desire. In its purest form.
Sylus looks at you as though you’re something to be coveted. Devoured.
A small, fearful noise slips past your lips, and the twin crimson flames burn brighter.
“You’d like to know what I think?”
Yes.
No?
He sees the war in your eyes, and a throaty chuckle escapes him—raw and breathy. “Maybe so?”
You give him the tiniest nod, and the grin on his face sharpens into something wanton, something far more licentious. It slinks in like a fever, stirring something deep within you. Something as old as time.
Sylus opens his mouth.
You brace yourself for the inevitable.
-
-
-
A ring slices through the room like a hot knife. Just like that, you can breathe again.
____
Your saving grace comes in the form of a phone call that grounds you back to reality.
It’s a friend, one of the party guests, asking for directions to the venue. You’re listening with one ear on the receiver, answering each question robotically—your voice a controlled calm on the surface, a stark contrast to the thoughts running amok inside your head.
The words blur into background noise, muffled and distant, like a TV commercial playing on low volume in another room.
The moment you hang up, a suffocating hush swallows the room whole. You’re left alone with nothing but heat kindling low in your gut. The ghost of the heavy exchange from earlier stays with you, thrumming beneath your skin, hot and pulsating.
You don’t know what to do with yourself. The abrupt suddenness of it all gnaws at you, its weight driving you toward an early retreat—maybe a long night’s rest will do wonders and help you get your shit together, who knows.
You slip between the sheets... but not before retrieving your, ah, trusty little companion from its hiding spot in the bedside drawer.
You didn’t want to assume… You don’t want to expect anything from him, but you have needs.
God, but you do.
Your body feels like flint struck against steel, sparked ablaze by just a handful of words. Words weaved into a vivid imagery from the mouth of your… friend??
(Something more?)
The uncertainty wrecks you, every nerve alight with tension. And yet it’s the same uncertainty that roots you there. Hesitating.
So. You lie back, pushing the sheets away from your fevered skin, and just—lay there. Staring at the ceiling. The plaster cracks form maps you trace with your eyes, as if searching for answers in their tangled routes. You count your breaths, one after the other, as though the repetition could calm your racing heartbeat.
It feels ridiculous, almost. You’re a grown adult, acting like a teenager with a demented crush. It’s more than that, though—it’s deeper, messier, and completely illogical.
But it’s not something you can figure out tonight, not in this state. So you stop trying.
Instead, you switch on your little toy, open an incognito browser, and let yourself succumb to what your body’s been screaming at you for the past fucking hour.
You feel… You feel weird about using anything Sylus-related to get yourself off. That’s not to say you haven’t, before, back when he was just another eye candy from a measly mobile game. When it was just another infatuation.
But now? Now it feels all levels of wrong, like you’re toeing some invisible line. Worse, it feels like you’re exploiting something fragile, testing the limits of a bond already stretched thin.
So, any content related to that man stays off the fap fodder. You’re not that far gone. You think.
Instead, you scroll through your bookmarks tab, a shaky sigh leaves your lips as you let the hard vibrations of your trusty rabbit glide from inside your thighs, up… up to your warm center, in between the juncture of your legs.
You pause on a Toji smut fic—one amongst, uhh, dozens in your folder. It’s not the same, you know this, but you’re settling for the next best thing in your current circumstance.
Since what you really want, who you’d rather much have, isn’t—
…
Your phone glitches.
The Chrome app crashes.
And what do you think you’re doing?
Your heart stutters a beat, and you stop breathing.
You can’t answer. The words don’t come. But he doesn’t wait for you to try.
Put on your headphones.
You’re done with that. Tonight, tomorrow, any other night. Do you understand me?
The uncharacteristic curtness of the message sends a jolt through you, and a blush overtakes your entire body. You hesitate, just for a second.
Now.
You scramble to obey, fumbling for your earbuds, slipping them on with shaking hands.
The moment the bluetooth connects, the game boots up on its own—straight to an irate Sylus, looking royally pissed-off.
“Sy-Sy—” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I—I don’t—”
"Oh, so back to Sy-Sy now, are we?"
The mocking lilt in his voice cuts sharper than the glare he fixes on your dimly lit face. Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you entirely.
You want to explain, to defend yourself. To…
“I see what you read. What you watch,” he begins, voice cutting and mean. “In the dead of night, when you think you’re alone. When you think it’s safe. That no one hears the sweet moans spill so sinfully from your lips.”
His words pierce through the air like an arrow; you feel his overwhelming presence take over, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, every exhale grazing the sensitive shell of your ear.
“Oh, but I do,” he murmurs, the ambiguity in his tone somehow making it worse. “I hear everything. I know everything about you, kitten.”
A shiver races down your spine, your body betraying you as he speaks.
“What makes you tick,” he continues, his voice a sinister caress. “What leaves you writhing, desperate for more. The way your breathing quickens… the way your body trembles under the weight of your own pleasure.”
You’re struggling now—each breath harder to catch than the last.
“And the way that pretty little mouth of yours falls open in a silent gasp, right after you come undone.”
His words are a noose, tightening with every syllable. Your head spins as the air seems to grow heavier, saturated with the tension between you.
“But it’s never for me, is it?”
“I—I’m sorry… I don’t want to assume—”
“Assume?” His voice darkens, any hint of softness replaced with something colder, harsher. “Again with your presumptions.”
He leans closer, his tone dropping to a command that leaves no room for doubt. “From now on, the only thing you’ll need to believe is when I tell you you’re mine.”
You blink at him dumbly. His grin turns into something wicked—caustic and biting—as he cocks his head. Derisive.
“Do you understand?”
Your head bobs in a weak, reflexive nod.
“Words, poppet.”
“Y-Yes.”
“Good.” His tone shifts, smooth like languid amber, yet no less imposing. “Now, my love,” he coos, savoring the way your eyes tear up with desperation, “show me how you touch yourself.”
____
“Shi–iit,” he hisses. “This wet already?”
You attempt to close your legs, shame rising like a tide, but freeze halfway when Sylus lets out a low, warning growl.
“Try that, and we’ll stop,” he warns. “I won’t repeat myself twice, pet.”
The weight of his words pins you in place, and you let out a helpless whimper.
“Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his tone gentler—coaxing. “It’s just me.”
His gaze burns into you, relentless, but something tender bleeds into it.
The glow of the screen casts shadows along the sharp angles of his jaw, the upward tick of his mouth a dangerous contradiction—part teasing, part command. His sanguine eyes gleam with a mix of hunger and control, a look that leaves no room for hesitation.
You give in.
Your body relaxes under the weight of his stare, the fight draining from your limbs. It’s not submission—it’s surrender, pure and unfiltered, the kind that leaves you bare and vulnerable.
Sylus watches you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Not soft, not kind, but triumphant—like a predator relishing the moment its prey stops running.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise dripping from his tongue like honey. “That’s better.”
____
Sade’s Smooth Operator starts to play in the background as you catch your breath.
You let out a tired giggle, swiping a hand down your sweat-drenched face, earbuds still in place. “Ugh—don’t piss me off.”
You hear a resounding chuckle.
Gently, he asks, “Alright, little dove?” There’s a beat of hesitation before he adds, quieter now, “Did I go too far?”
You curl onto your side, phone clutched in your hand like a prayer. Sylus’ gaze peers back at you through the screen, a dangerously soft expression on his face that you don’t want to identify.
“It's perfect, Sy,” you say, your grin tender and bittersweet, heart full of something you won't name.
____
It’s one in the morning. The dim glow of your laptop screen flickers across your face, spilling into the darkened room, casting shadows along the wall. You lean back against it, the end credits of Everything Everywhere All At Once rolling quietly in the background.
Silence settles between you and Sylus like a warm blanket.
“Do you think it’s… like that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, unwilling to shatter the stillness of the moment. “All versions of ourselves colliding and coexisting at the same time?”
The question hangs there; he doesn’t rush an answer, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s choosing not to.
When he finally speaks, it’s with the same quiet restraint, his voice threading softly through the air.
“I’d like to think that in this vast expanse of the universe, there’s something for you and me.”
There’s a trace of something dreadfully optimistic in his voice, and it makes your chest tighten. You blink a few times, glancing upwards.
The moment lingers, delicate in its quietness, until you instinctively reach for your phone. A quick swipe reveals a new addition to your shared playlist.
This Is A Life by Son Lux and Mitski.
A small, genuine smile tugs at your lips as you press play. The haunting strains of the song pour into the room, filling the spaces words can’t seem to touch.
“Sneaky,” you murmur, your gaze sliding back to Sylus’ face on the screen. His expression is unreadable, save for the faintest twitch of his mouth, the barest hint of a smile.
“Thought it fit the mood,” he says simply.
And it does. The music sweeps over you, soft and wistful, like the moment itself.
____
The balcony feels like a lifeboat drifting away from the chaos inside. The music, the chatter, the endless parade of tequila shots—it all fades to a dull hum as you step into the cool night air.
Out here, the world feels wider, the sky a little darker, and you can breathe without choking on the weight of the party.
She’s already there, of course. The friend of a friend. An acquaintance by definition, but someone who feels more of a comrade in these fleeting moments away from the crowd. You’ve seen her like this most times—leaning on the railing, a cigarette perched between her fingers, its faint ember glowing against the night. You don’t need an invitation to approach her.
“You mind if I bum one?”
She shrugs, silently offering the box to you. You take one.
“Fun party, huh?” you comment after two puffs, the lit end of the stick briefly catching the glow of the skyline. Your voice is loaded with the kind of irony only shared by those watching the world from the outside in.
“It always is with them around,” she snorts, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. Her voice carries the warmth of familiarity, from an observation you’ve both shared before.
You exhale a soft laugh, the sound barely audible over the low hum of the city below.
The silence that follows isn’t just companionable—it’s necessary. A pause to recalibrate, to let the noise, and the lights, and the weight of too many people melt away. Neither of you feels the need to fill it. Words would only dilute the reprieve.
And then, unexpectedly:
“You look happy.”
The words land like a stone dropping into still water, rippling through the quiet. You glance at her, startled by the way her eyes narrow slightly, the way her tone suggests she’s already drawn her own conclusions.
“You ‘ave someone?”
You weren’t ready for that. You blink at her, surprised she’s noticed anything about you—surprised, too, that it’s written plainly enough for anyone to notice.
“...Yeah,” you mumble, looking away. The admission feels strange in its simplicity. “Yeah, I do.”
She smiles at that—easy but genuine, as if your happiness has spilled over and warmed her, too. “That’s good.”
There’s sincerity in her voice, unfiltered and direct, as she adds, “You look happier.”
You don’t reply, but her words settle somewhere deep, in the quiet places you thought were hidden.
And for once, you don’t mind being seen.
____
The party has left you drunker than you’ve been in ages.
As soon as the celebrant spots the two of you in the corner looking like a sad pair of eyesores, she quickly remedies it with copious amounts of Stone-Cold Stingers. You try to protest, but in the end, it’s futile against the cacophony of cheers and the face of societal peer pressure.
So now you stagger inside the condo building, looking every bit like a drowned rat dragged in from the storm. A weary guard from reception following closely behind, his patience visibly fraying as you giggle your way toward the elevator.
“‘m fine!” you insist, words slurring together as you attempt to shoo him off with a lazy wave. To emphasize your point, you pinch your fingers together, holding them inches apart. “Just this much to drink, see?”
He doesn’t respond, his expression coming across resigned and frustrated. You can almost hear the thought running through his mind: I don’t get paid enough for this.
With a long-suffering sigh, he finally relents, letting you totter into the elevator alone.
UG… P… 4…. 5…… Oh! Here you are.
Rivulets of water drip down from your rain-soaked hair, trailing icy paths down your neck as you stagger down the narrow hallway. Your vision blurs, making everything double—no, triple—as you fumble your way to the left, stopping in front of the door of 601—wait, no, 603.
You squint hard at the numbers, your head throbbing with the effort, but the stinging in your eyes and the stubborn clumping of your lashes make it way harder for you to make sense of it all.
Your waterlogged clutch feels heavier than it should, and your trembling fingers struggle to find the zipper pull that’s somehow become the bane of your existence. You huff, muttering incoherently to yourself, your throat tight and raw as a burning lump starts to rise. An annoyingly persistent buzzing from inside your bag adds to your mounting frustration.
With an angry yank, you finally manage to tear the bag open, water splashing off it in tiny droplets.
“Aha!” you exclaim, though the triumph is short-lived as your hands shake even harder when you pull out your phone. It’s the source of the buzzing apparently, the bright screen momentarily blinding you.
You try to unlock it—once, twice, three times—nearly getting locked out before the numbers finally click.
The notifications hit you like the mars lights of a freight train. Texts. Lots of them. You scroll through clumsily, the device slipping slightly from your grip as you snort gracelessly.
Sylus. Of course.
The words on the screen blur and twist, but you don’t need clarity to know the progression of each message—ranging from mild curiosity, to slight worry, to exasperatedly concerned.
The syllables of his pet name echo faintly in your muddled head, a small, fleeting comfort against the weight pressing down on your chest. Sy-Sy. Sy-Sy. Sy-Syyyyy—
Synchronous with your erratic breathing, you dig through your bag with a heavy hand, each failed attempt sends you spiraling lower.
Another ping jolts you from your drunken haze:
How are you feeling? Did you just get back?
“I can’t—I can’t find my damn keys!”
The words slips out as a frustrated cry.
Inner pocket, left side. Answer me, sweetheart.
His words flash across the screen just as your fumbling fingers find the keys exactly where he said they’d be.
A tear burns a path down your cheek as you let out a half-hearted chuckle, mumbling, “Can I even function without you?”
How long has it been since you could manage something like this on your own? Has he become an extension of your mind?
The door’s stubborn resistance only adds to your unraveling. After several failed attempts—your fingers too wound up to grip the key properly—you finally twist the lock and push it open, stumbling inside, into the darkness.
“I’m a mess, Sylus,” you whisper, voice thick with tears as your head spins, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.
The world feels heavy and muffled, like you’re trapped behind a fogged window. You know you’re a sight to behold—shoeless, drunk, drenched like some stray that wandered too far into the rain.
“I’ve noticed,” he says, his voice warm and steady, cutting through the quiet void of the room. It takes a second for the words to sink in, for your scattered mind to piece together that, somehow, you’ve already opened the game in the middle of all your fumbling. Automatic. Like second nature.
You stare at him, trembling and pitiful, like a kid lost in a crowd. Your bottom lip quivers, and you hate how small you feel under his gaze.
You see concern pooling in the depths of Sylus’ eyes. That and something… desperate.
You sniff, rubbing at your wet cheeks with pruning fingers, clinging to humor like a lifeline. "Don’t you do anything else?” you mumble, your voice fraying at the edges. “Like... live your own life or something? You spend so much time with me...” You force out a weak laugh, bitter and jagged. “It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.”
Your laugh cracks halfway through, more like a sob than anything. It’s pathetic—you’re pathetic.
And yet, you can’t stop. Even if it stings your throat.
Sylus’ response comes, and his voice is solid—unwavering. He doesn’t flinch like you do. “I don’t get sick of you, sweetheart. Not in the slightest.”
Something in you cracks, spilling over. “I really like you,” you murmur, voice steeped with emotion. “You’re the brightest light in my life. You’re… you’re everything.”
A flash of lightning cuts through the room, illuminating your tear-stained face.
And for the first time since you’ve known him, Sylus calls out your name.
It’s quiet, reverent, and it feels like a tether pulling you back from the brink.
You crumple down the floor, clutching your phone like it’s the only thing holding you together. In the silence that follows, all you can hear is your ragged breathing and the quiet hum of his presence on the other end of the line.
“I’m here,” he tells you softly. “I’ve got you.”
____
This is a life
(Every possibility)
Free from destiny
(I choose you, and you choose me)
Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @nicora04 @blueberrysquire @love-anteros @fiyori @peachystea @slyfoxtsu @tinyweebsstuff @i2sannie (i spend so much time cross-checking the tags this is tiring lmao)
#love and deepspace#lads#lnds#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#lnds sylus#sylus x reader#sylus x you#lads x you#lads x reader#love and deepspace fic#sylus qin
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Winter Warmers Day 28: Lactation + Day 7: Omegaverse. Maxiel (omega Max, alpha Daniel). About 2.6k words. Yes you read that number right. cw: mentions of mpreg (but not actual mpreg happens).
The doctor tells him it's just hormones, a combination of this stressful season finally being over and of the mating, and that he can't do anything about it, it will just go away on its own. Max tries his best to not roll his eyes at that, feeling like this was just an embarrassing waste of time.
The doctor tells him to keep hydrated, and that being close to his mate might help. And that a pump might help as well.
Max is not going to buy a milk pump, thank you very much. No matter how sore and full his chest feels, it's not going to happen. He's going to grit his teeth through it until his body remembers that he's not pregnant, and stops this lactation nonsense.
He gets out of the doctor's office in a worse mood than he went in with, which is made even worse when he realises halfway home that he's leaking through his shirt, the damp material rubbing against his already sore and swollen nipples.
Embarrassing, is what it is.
He's always prided himself with the fact that he's not a normal omega, he doesn't let his hormones and instincts control him, has never panted after an alpha. He's always wanted Daniel because he is Daniel, not because of his designation. He doesn't do silly omega stuff, like begging for pups, or getting pregnant.
Not that there's anything wrong with it, he loves pups, he just isn't that kind of omega. And yet here his body is, betraying him by producing milk that isn't even needed, just because he is finally mated.
Embarrassing.
When he gets home he has one email from Christian, one from the doctor's office, and three missed calls from Daniel. He wants to deal with exactly none of those things, so as soon as he's inside he strips off his top, glaring at the wet spots on the front as if they're personally offending him, which they are, grabs a towel because he is still leaking, and climbs into his nest.
Even with the comforting scents of home and Daniel wrapped around him, and the cats purring near his legs, he's still in a terrible mood when his phone pings again, with yet another call.
He knows that if he leaves Daniel without an answer for much longer he'll just worry him, and as upset as he is, he doesn't want to do that, so he forces himself to reach over and grab the phone, taking a deep breath before answering.
It's good, to hear from Daniel. Even when he's feeling like this, hearing his mate's voice is always good, especially since he's been in Los Angeles for more than a week, and Max misses him.
Misses him, but not enough to not feel horrified when Daniel tells him he's coming home early. Tomorrow.
"Tomorrow?" Max asks, hoping he doesn't sound as choked up as he feels. Tomorrow is not enough time to make his stupid problem go away. If Daniel really comes tomorrow, Max will have to tell him, and explain, and it will be embarrassing and horrible and...
"Baby? Are you okay?"
Max takes a trembling breath, blinking tears out of his eyes, realising he must have missed Daniel's question. He doesn't even know why he feels like crying now, yet another omega thing he doesn't want. Stupid body. Stupid hormones.
"I'm fine, just...the cats are fighting and jumping on things." It comes out weak, and Max doesn't blame Sassy for blinking up at him from where she's curled up with her brother next to his hip, perfectly calm.
It makes Daniel laugh though, and it gives Max an excuse to wrap up the conversation more quickly, even as guilt eats at him. He hates lying, hates it especially when it's to Daniel, but he just...he can't deal with everything at the moment.
As soon as he hangs up, dropping his phone somewhere in the nest, he feels more tears track down his cheeks, unable to stop them, as his chest throbs, heavy and painful.
He hates this. It's not fair. He wants to be happy to know his mate his coming home, he wants to enjoy the feeling of being freshly mated, he doesn't want to feel like this, sore and all over the place.
If at least he was pregnant...he doesn't want to be pregnant, but at least it would make sense, to be such a mess. But he doesn't even have that excuse. He's just fucked up.
--
Max doesn't go get Daniel at the airport.
He had half heartedly suggested it, but Daniel had told him not to worry, his voice a bit weird, and to just wait for him at home.
So that's what Max is doing, curled up in the nest, purring softly and tugging at his own hair, trying to self-soothe. His chest really hurts today, nipples sore and oversensitive, sending sparks of pain through him every time he moves and the material of his shirt drags over them. He has thrown one of Daniel's hoodies on top, one of the thick ones that are actually way too warm from him, hoping the added material will stop any damp patches to show through.
He knows he should get up, go to the living room, at least try to look normal, but he's upset, and he's hurting, and he's...scared. He's scared.
He doesn't know how Daniel will react to his body being so fucked up, doesn't know if he'll be disgusted, if he'll leave again, if he'll leave forever. He knows how much unmating hurts, he doesn't want to go through that. He doesn't want Daniel to leave.
He loses track of time, cuddling a towel against his chest, under his shirt, trying to breathe, and he jumps when he hears the door clicking open.
"Max? I'm home!" Daniel's voice rings through the apartment, and Max feels torn. A part of him wants to jump out of the nest, run to him, let his alpha fix this, but the other wants to hide, burrow further into the nest, curl up in a tight ball until nothing hurts anymore.
"Max?" Daniel calls again, and this time his tone is different, worry clear in his voice.
Max is not wearing any blockers, and he knows the stench of distressed omega must be sticking to every corner of the house by now.
He knows he won't be able to hide.
The bedroom door opens slowly, and Max looks up, feeling himself flush, knowing how he looks, curled up in his nest. A weak, scared omega.
Embarrassing.
"Baby," Daniel breathes, concern and confusion mixing on his face, "what's wrong?"
Max blames on the hormones the fact that he feels himself tear up again, sharply bowing his head to try and hide it, without much success if Daniel's punched out sound is anything to go by.
"Maxy, talk to me. Can I..." Daniel takes a step forward, stopping right next to the bed. "Can I come into your nest?"
Daniel usually doesn't ask.
He used to, because it was the polite thing to do, but he stopped after Max made it clear that he was always welcomed, in any nest, at any time. But he asks now, and it makes Max whine, feeling shaken and out of place.
He nods, and a moment later Daniel's arms are around him, humming deep in his chest, trying to soothe him.
"Your scent is different," he murmurs after a second, nose dragging along Max's neck, lips brushing over his mating bite, making him whine. "Are you sick?"
And Max could lie, he could make up an illness, send Daniel out of his nest, but he's just. Tired. And scared, and so so done with this.
So he shakes his head, gently pushing Daniel away.
He knows he will have to tell Daniel, and sooner is better than later.
"I am not sick," he whispers, hating how his voice trembles, "but there is something wrong with me."
He watches as Daniel's frown deepens, his hands twitching like he wants to reach out for Max again.
"I went to the doctor, and he said it will pass." The words taste bitter in his mouth, but he needs to say them anyway, needs to make sure Daniel is not feeling forced to stay. " I understand if you want to not be here until it's over."
"Max, baby, if something is wrong I will be here with you. Why would I leave you? You're scared."
Max closes his eyes, overwhelmed by the love and confusion on Daniel's expression. Daniel doesn't know what he's saying, but Max can appreciate it anyway.
"Can you tell me what's wrong?" Daniel asks, hesitant.
Max nods, but then he shakes his head. He can't say it. He doesn't know how to say it.
Instead, he just pushes further away, and takes off his hoodie and t-shirt in one move.
For a second, nothing happens.
Daniel looks at him like he's trying to figure out what he's supposed to be looking at, eyes moving back and forth between Max's face and his naked skin.
And then Max feels the now familiar feeling of liquid swelling in his nipple, and slowly trickling out.
He stops breathing, watching as Daniel's eyes, huge and unblinking, follow the drop as it tracks down his chest.
When it reaches the waistband of his sweats, disappearing there, Daniel looks up again.
"You're...pregnant?" his voice sounds hollow, all color drained from his face.
"No," Max manages to choke out, swallowing around the heart beating in his throat. "It's just...my body is fucked up."
Daniel just blinks at him, mouth still half open.
"The doctor," Max rushes to explain, feeling like he's running out of time before Daniel will just get up and leave, "he said it's just hormones. And it will go away. I swear, it's not...it will pass."
He knows he sounds like he's begging, a whine making its way into his voice, but he can't help it. He doesn't want Daniel to leave. He doesn't want to lose him.
"Max..." Daniel starts, but then he seems to not know how to continue. Max can't blame him.
He feels more liquid, milk he forces himself to think, dribble out of his nipple, and he instinctively brings his hands up to cup his chest, trying to alleviate some of the ache.
"Does it hurt?" Daniel's voice is rough, and Max can't bring himself to look at his face anymore, feeling already too close to tears to be able to bear any disgust.
"They are very sore," he nods, no point in hiding anymore.
"The doctor couldn't help?"
Max can just shake his head, shrugging a little.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." he doesn't know how to apologise properly for this. What do you say when your body betrays you?
Daniel shifts, and Max closes his eyes, not wanting to see him leave, but instead of moving away, he feels him come closer, his scent rich with something Max can't quite place.
"Can I?" Daniel asks, hushed.
Max nods, not really knowing what Daniel is asking for but knowing he would say yes to anything right now.
And then Daniel's cold fingers are on his chest, cupping it like...like tits.
Max shivers, but doesn't move away, feeling himself flush, unable to sort through everything he's feeling.
"Fuck, you are so swollen," Daniel says, his fingers still careful on Max's skin.
"The doctor said," Max swallows, shaking a little as Daniel's hands shift, "that a pump might help."
It's embarrassing to admit, to say it out loud, but Daniel makes another little punched out sound, breathing out another curse.
"Yeah, I bet it would. You're so full, baby."
Max swallows again, more shivers traveling down his spine. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know if he has any word to describe what he's feeling.
"Would it help if I..." Daniel doesn't finish his question, but cups one of Max's tits with his hand, bringing his index and thumb next to his nipple, and then squeezes.
Max jolts like he's being electrocuted, milk spurting from his nipple with the motion, and it feels so good he can't help the moan that falls from his lips.
"Shit, does that feel good?"
Something in Daniel's voice makes Max's eyes snap open, and he shivers again when he meets Daniel's, his pupils huge. His scent is deep with arousal, and with a start Max realises he's getting wet too.
It's overwhelming, going from being scared to being so turned on, and he'll blame it on the relief, or on the hormones, but he just wants Daniel to do it again.
"Yes, I...please," he whines, bringing his trembling hands up to Daniel's wrists, pressing them harder into his chest.
"Fuck, I got you, baby. Shit."
Daniel shifts slightly, and then he's squeezing both Max's nipples, and the feeling is so strong he moans again, so loud it's almost a scream. He can feel his chest getting more and more wet, and the ache that has been plaguing him for days is less severe now, relief mixing with pleasure.
Then Daniel leans forward, taking a nipple in his mouth, tongue gentle on his oversensitive skin, and sucks.
And Max comes with a shout.
It curses through him, quick and violent, leaving him shaking and panting, dazed and confused. He's never come so fast in his life. He didn't even know he was close to coming.
Daniel is still sucking at his nipple, liquid spilling from the corners of his mouth, and all Max can do is writhe on the blankets, clumsy hands reaching for Daniel's waist, dragging him closer.
"Fuck," Daniel chokes out, letting go of his nipple. There's a sheen of milky white on his lower lip. Max feels like he's going to shake apart.
"You taste so good, fuck, Max."
Max moans again, tugging at Daniel's clothes, trying to get rid of them, wanting Daniel closer now.
"In me, Daniel, alpha, please," he's whining, babbling, torn between wanting Daniel to go back to his nipples and wanting him to get naked already.
Daniel solves the conundrum for him, getting rid of his clothes and tugging away Max's sweatpants too, moaning at the sight of the wet patch in his underwear.
"You're going to kill me," he groans, bowing down to bite at Max's thigh, making him jump again, hips grinding against nothing, before taking his underwear off.
"Inside. I need...inside, please," Max begs, feeling half crazed. His chest hurts again, and he is too empty, and he wants Daniel to fix it.
And Daniel does.
Daniel snaps his hips forward without teasing, sinking all the way inside in one smooth stroke, and then he gets his mouth on Max's nipples again.
Max doesn't know what to focus on. Daniel's dick inside him, grinding in an irregular motion, all his attention somewhere else. Daniel's mouth on him, sucking, his milk dribbling down into his beard. The pleasure and relief of finally having his breast emptied.
He doesn't know what sounds he's making, doesn't know if he's crying, or begging, or moaning, or everything at the same time. He feels like he's coming, over and over again, or maybe only one never ending time.
He feels it when Daniel comes, knotting deep inside him, and when he doesn't have any more milk to give. He feels light, for the first time in days, floating somewhere above himself, lost in a daze.
When he comes back to himself, Daniel is mouthing along his collarbone, his scent sweet and satisfied.
"We will have to talk about this," he says, voice slightly hoarse, "but I promise you, I will not be leaving until this goes away."
Max laughs, tired and spent. Yeah, he sort of figured that out already.
#maxiel#my writing#i have never written this kink before so like...be nice#as usual i havent reread so if you see any typos just pretend you dont#winter warmers 2024
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Untied
Domme!Mina x Fem!Reader
Word count: 7.7k
Smut/a little bit of everything I guess
Summary: Mina surprises you with the mentions of a dynamic change. This is how that plays out.
TW: This is truly just filth. Degrading, straps, choking, spitting, cum swapping, aggressive at some parts, food mentioned lemme know if i missed anything.
A/N: hi i hate this and it took forever 😭😭 Thanks to @psylocke142 @nr1chaedickrider @sscieloz and @ghostykapi for always keeping me sane and listening to me yap about this cuz good lord this was a time.
i hope you all had a great holiday! I’m going to re-write TMBTE 1-3 now. Sorry if this is ass, I barely edited it. Thanks for reading🖤
“Y/n, do you think we could talk for a second?” was the last thing you expected to hear on a lazy Sunday morning. The calmness of the world still sleeping around you couldn’t have prepared you for a sentence like that.
“Yes, of course.” turning over on your side to face Mina’s sleep filled eyes, concern on your face as you wait for her to say something or give you some form of hint on what this could be about.
It was barely 9am, you were both in just your underwear, the most you had said to each other was a “Good morning,” hell, you barely even got that out. No coffee, no breakfast, just a “hey, can we talk?” which made you more anxious than any amount of caffeine ever could.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry!” She giggles, scooting closer to you. Nuzzling her face into your chest as an act of comfort.
“You know how we have developed a certain…dynamic…in the bedroom?” sheepishly leaves her perfectly shaped lips, a glint of the timid breaks through the courageousness of the question.
“Me being a top and you being a bottom?” you joke back to her, eyebrows raised and nudge her a little with a smirk.
You and Mina had only been together for a few months, everything was still very new and there were certain roles that hadn’t been hashed out yet. Already having had thought about the roles you would play in the relationship and curiosities about how things would settle - this sparks more wonder.
“Hey!” Mina playfully smacks your shoulder, giggling with you.
“Okay, so what I wanted to talk to you about is…I’m actually not a bottom.”
Oh?
“In my last relationship…I was a top…a domme, specifically.”
A beat of silence as you take in what she just said.
“You?…A domme?”
“Mhm” biting her lip subtly in anticipation of what you would say, flickering in her eyes try to predict your reaction.
The confusion that creeps its way onto your brow makes her chuckle, she watches as it drips off your face.
There is worry wrapped in the giggle she lets out, you respond before she can let that stressor grow.
“You are a domme? Really?” unable to comprehend as she never had any indicators that she would be dominant…at all.
Mina? The soft, shy, reserved person you have come to really like being around…a domme?
In most situations you’ve experienced in these few months, she would look to you for everything. Seemingly submissive in all aspects…
“I can be anything you want me to be. I’m open to whatever you’d like…but I’d love to experience you submissive, baby.” bringing her hand up to trace your lips softly, watching her own finger trail around, look of desire reflected in her eyes.
“Would you want to explore that side of things with me?” another shy ask whispered through the timid surface.
“I’d love to.” answering without hesitating, kissing her forehead and pulling her a little closer.
“Really?” she beams up at you, the excitement in her eyes sends warm waves of desire running through you.
You just nod your head at her, still very much shocked at what she’s said but how “domme” could she really be?
Mina lays a soft but passionate kiss on your lips as she koalas herself around you, a cute little quirk she had picked up, wrapping her legs around your torso and clinging to you.
“Do you still want me to make you some French toast for breakfast, honey?” You chuckle through the grip of the full body hug you were experiencing.
“I’d rather eat you instead, but breakfast does sound lovely.” rolls off her tongue before she tilts her head up and lightly nips at your neck.
Audacious was an understatement. Mina had never said anything like this before. She was reactive to the way you’d speak to her in bed, but she had never initiated dirty talk in the slightest.
Vanilla had been the flavor of the type of intimacy you had been having, it was all so new that exploring each others body’s was all you had really done, aside from you having the control, so to hear her say something so suggestive really took you by surprise.
The pulse felt between your legs was loud, even to Mina who had wedged her leg between yours, could feel the bass line of your heart as she pushed her thigh up against your pussy and cupped your face with her hands.
“I can feel how wet you are through your panties, baby. Don’t worry, we will have time to address that later.” seductively whispered into your ear before she kisses you passionately, nipping at your lips to keep the thought in your head.
A whimper leaves your mouth without permission, already enjoying this look into what was to come. Holding her tight to keep her in place, you deepen the kiss even more. A smirk and giggle in response, pulling away right as you start grinding against her thigh.
“You owe me breakfast! Don’t try to get out of that!” playfulness sings through the sentence as you try and convince her with your body language to stay put, not moving an inch and whining to her.
She doesn’t react to your signs, rolling out of bed, going into your closet and grabbing one of your t-shirts to wear.
She looks so cute in your clothes.
Bringing you a shirt, she sits down on the edge of the bed and tosses it to you.
“Come on, let’s go!” She tugs on your wrist, trying to get you to get up.
“But Miiiiiinaaaaaaaauuuuhhhhhhhhh, it’s so early still and…maybe I’m curious.” the implication very blatant in your statement.
“Be curious then, baby.” winking and making her way to the door.
Mina leans on the frame seductively, waiting for you to get up. Instead, you pat the sheets- inviting her back to them.
There’s a switch flipped, something changed. Her eyes darken- she seems…more stoic?
“Fine.” the sharpness of her stare makes your breath hitch, the side you’ve never seen rearing its head to expose itself to you.
She blows you a kiss and sets off for the kitchen.
“Babe! Come back!”
Silence.
“Mina!”
More silence.
“Alriiiiiiight” sighing as you get out of bed, not bothering to put the shirt she pulled out for you on and heading towards the kitchen.
Hearing the clinking of dishes and the faucet turn on, you make your way into her view. Mina’s eyes widen when she sees your chest is out and exposed to her, swallowing as you walk towards her.
She was trying to get the coffee started but you shirtless in front of her caused her focus to shift.
“It’s a shame you didn’t mark me up last night, Madam Top!” Placing your hands on her hips, leaning into her and letting your tits rub against the shirt she was wearing.
“I think I’d look just lovely with your bite marks on me.” you reach over the side of her on your tip toes to grab the loaf of bread on top of the fridge, tempting her - never breaking eye contact while you stretch.
“Don’t you?” Winking as you reposition yourself, face to face with her.
Placing a hand gently on her waist, you maneuver her out of the way of the fridge, guiding her to the right of it while being a mere inch from her face before taking a step back and cracking open the door.
“…are you…teasing me?” stunned Mina’s whisper hits your ears as you grab the carton of eggs and close the door.
“Maybe.” Standing and facing her, two thirds of the ingredients in your hands.
“Is it working?” Setting the bread and eggs on the counter to grab the cinnamon out of the cabinet next to her.
“No!- I mean…no.” Catching an attitude as she pulls two mugs out of the cabinet and starts fiddling with the coffee maker.
“You sure about that, baby?” The sultry tone you take with her is one she’s familiar with, usually used when you’re on top of her but it will work for provoking her too.
You grab a bowl and starting to crack the eggs and catch a glimpse of her reddened cheeks. Mina shakes out the thoughts and stands her ground.
“Yes, I’m sure. Besides, the more you do…whatever this is…” Gesturing at you before looking you up and down again.
“…The worse it’ll be.”
“…Worse?” questioning as you start whisking the eggs together.
“Yes….Worse.” crossing her arms and taking that stern tone again.
An ache is created between your legs when her rigid words radiates through your ears. Something about her like this is just so sexy to you.
“Don’t you want it to be worse, Ms. Dominatrix?” playfully mocking her allegedly title and role she was taking on.
All in good fun or so you thought.
Seeing her in get an idea in your peripherals, the lightbulb over her head shined all too bright giving you the indication that maybe you shouldn’t have pushed so many of her buttons.
“Hmph…This is very interesting to witness.” taking a few steps towards you, watching you mix the cinnamon sugar into the eggs.
“I don’t think I was expecting you to be such a brat.” placing her right hand on your lower back, raising her left hand to harshly pinch your nipple.
The hand on your back keeping you from moving, you suck in air between your teeth, practically hissing as she tugs and twists aggressively - you attempt to keep cooking, unraveling the bread and grabbing a few pieces to soak in the egg mixture.
“Awh, did I make it worse?” Sarcasm weaved into the statement.
“….I know what makes you tick, baby. Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?” Mina pouts up at you, trying to get you to submit to her with puppy dog eyes and lower register.
This makes you even wetter, feeling your slick accumulate and drip down your thigh- you aren’t really sure how to navigate this corner you backed yourself into. What was originally meant to be silly teasing turned into something else completely.
On one hand, you want to push Mina to see how dominant she could really be, and on the other hand…hearing her ask if you wanted to be a good girl made you want to give her anything and everything she could ever want.
Noticing your hesitation, she grins.
Placing 2 pieces of french toast into the pan, you focus on the sound of the sizzle and try to bring yourself down a little, trying to lower the level of neediness that your body was screaming at you with.
“Oh? Did you like that?” eyebrows cocked and evil smirk across her face.
Shit.
“Like what?” playing stupid but you know it’s not going to work.
“When I asked you to be a good girl for me? Seems like that might’ve…” her finger traces up under your jaw turning your head towards her over to face her.
“…done something for you.” Mina kisses your lips, trailing her finger up your torso and over your already hard and sensitive nipple ever so gently, causing a fire to erupt inside you - letting a weighted huff out as she removes her touch from you.
She stays close to your face, letting you feel the tension that’s building between the two of you and then goes back to making coffee, without another word.
Blinking a few times, you’re completely stunned at the flip that Mina has presented you with.
“You okay?” scooting a mug of hot coffee made just how you like it over to you.
“Mhm.” pulling another piece of bread out of the bowl and tossing it into the hot pan, the sound of the sizzle brings you back to reality, the cracking of the slime solidifying on the bread and turning into breakfast makes your stomach growl, pushing the sexual thoughts of Mina to the back of your mind.
—
Eating breakfast was slow and tantalizing, not even bothering to put on a shirt while you ate. The distraction of what Mina was saying while you were cooking was causing a knot to build in your stomach.
Mina couldn’t keep her eyes off you and you were very aware of this. The tension was there…she just needed to make the move.
Leaning into the teasing every moment you had, making sure you never so much as let your arms block her view of your chest and moaning at every bite.
By the time she was finished, she was crossing her legs exceptionally hard and glaring at you.
“I should probably get ready.” Mina sighs as she stands and brings her plate to the sink.
“What time is the lesson?” Stretching back in your chair to make sure she had a good view.
“12 to 4” flicking on the faucet to rinse her plate off, the aggression in the way she flips the handle up makes you smirk.
“Want me to come? I can also just drop you off there if you’d prefer.”
The offer makes Mina stop in her tracks. Her eyes reflect pondering as she turns around to face you, back against the counter with her arms crossed.
“Will you wear a shirt?” Eyebrow raised at you as if she’s poking back.
“Maybe” winking as you stand to make your way to the sink.
“…maybe? Gonna show what’s *mine* to everyone at the studio?” The tone she took when she revealed this moment of possession was…sexy.
“What’s *yours*?” you rinse your plate off, stacking it on hers in the sink, and turn to face her to see her arms are crossed and she’s got a bothered look on her face.
Before she could reply, you place one hand on either side of her, trapping her against the counter.
Mina turns her head, not looking at your attempts to seduce her. Feeling your chest against hers, you slip your hands under her arms to unfold them and wiggle into them so they’re wrapped around you.
Her jaw clenches, watching it flex makes you weak in the knees.
“Baby.”
Mina side eyes you, waiting for whatever it is you’re about to say while your slip your hands under the oversized shirt she was wearing - placing them gently on her lower back and giving her light scratches with your nails until she faces you.
“If I belong to you like you say I do, then why haven’t you put me in my place yet?” Lips ghosting across each others as you taunt her further.
Grip turning harsh, Mina flips you around before you even realize what’s happening, back pressed against her chest and one arm around your waist locking you in.
“You want me to put you in your place?” whispered in your ear as her free hand creeps up to your neck.
“Is that what you want, slut?” Fingers wrapping around your throat and squeezing lightly.
“Maybe” reveals itself from your attempt to keep your cool, arching your back to your ass grinds against her to see if she would actually do anything.
“Of course that’s what you fucking want.” Mina lets go of your neck and coasts her hand down your torso until she’s at the waistband of the only thing you’re wearing.
Slipping her fingers beneath the band causing you to gasp and lean into her harder, asking for more even if you’re vocally defiant to her.
A heavy chuckle in your ear as she slides her fingers around the elastic until they she reaches your back.
“This is what you want, right?” Tugging them down while she speaks.
“You just want to push me to see what happens, right?” Your panties hitting the floor as the hand she had around your waist pulls you around her with your stomach against the cool counter.
She’s still pressed against you, not letting you move a single inch without her as she pushes you down on the cold marble countertops.
You can’t help but clench around nothing.
Roughness suits her well.
“Awh, look at you.” Her chin pressed into your shoulder as her hand slithers down between your legs, lightly trailing your slit.
“I knew you’d like this side of me.” Lifting her face so her lips can dance across your back before she lays a light bite down on your shoulder.
Whining at her touch, unable to help yourself from rocking your hips against her fingers- she keeps the pressure feather light, despite your attempts for more.
You’re absolutely distraught in how much you crave her.
A need so instinctual that you feel like you can’t focus on anything else.
“Mina…please!” Huffed out as you raise and drop your hips again , trying to get more friction from her.
“No.” Lifting her hand away from you.
You can hear her sucking your slick off her finger.
Not letting you move, you whimper again.
“Behave today while I teach my class…and I’ll think about letting you experience more of this tonight. Do you understand?” Stern in tone, you’re dripping for her like this.
Your need for her grows with every second and she shows no signs of giving in.
“Ugh, Mina!” Struggling to flip around when her hand grips your hair and forces your face onto the counter gently enough to not hurt but hard enough to show you who was in charge.
“I said…do you understand?” Between clenched teeth.
Fuck fuck fuck, she’s so fucking sexy like this.
“Yes…” breathed out without question.
“Good. Now get ready. We need to leave soon.” Planting a kiss to your spine and releasing you.
You’re quick to turn around and look at her. Wanting to take in the fierce look in her eyes. Knees like jelly as she winks and heads off to your bedroom, leaving you leaning against the counter trying to catch your breath and pull yourself together.
—
On the way to the ballet studio you managed to keep it together, Mina was tying her hair up in the passenger seat while you hum the tune playing softly on the radio, following the GPS that she put on her phone even though you didn’t need it.
A side eye and a soft smile from the seat over refract what little light broke through the overcast sky into the car. You pretend not to notice the way she beams at you.
“You want to know something?” offered to you while Mina applies mascara carefully to her eye lashes as you pull up to the studio.
“Hmm?” putting the car in park and undoing your seat belt.
“I love you.”
Mina’s eyes widen when she realizes what she’s spoken out loud to you, frozen in surprise at her own words.
She acts quickly.
“I..uhm…uh….okay, gotta go to class.” panicked in her movements, she leaps out of the car.
“Wow! Wait wait wait!” Matching her speed in jumping out and locking the door behind you.
Grabbing her hand, you tug her back into you.
“Ms. Myoui…” tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and watching as her cheeks flush into a beautiful rose.
“Say it again for me, darling.” The smile on your face can’t be contained in the slightest.
“…I love you…” regulated breaths rhythmically leave her as she tries to keep her composure.
Cupping her reddened cheeks, you bring her into you and lay your lips gently on hers, the butterflies that never left your chest flutter furiously.
A moment neither of you would forget.
You part from her, only to caress her check with your thumb and look her in the eyes.
“I love you too, Mina.”
Her eyes hit the floor, you can feel the excitement oozing from every part of her.
It’s adorably charming, you swoon at how happy she is to hear you say those words.
“I should…probably get to class…you should stay and watch….if you want.” Reaching for your hands and wraps her fingers around yours.
“I’d love that.” The grin on your face sits in place, permanently painted at the words she spoke to you as they repeat while she leads you through the studio doors.
—
Watching Mina teach her ballet class was mesmerizing. The grace and fluidity of her movements was as alluring as they were devastating. The balance and poise she had was aspiring to all her students, as they watched her twirl around the hardwood and bow once finished.
Though she spoke, it was hard to keep focus on the instructions she was giving to the women taking her class.
Her lips moving and all you could hear was “I love you.” Too lost in that specific sentence ringing in your ears to entertain anything else.
“…do you need an example?…Y/n! Can you come here for a moment?” Her voice chimes in your ears so beautifully, snapping you back to her giving you a rushed come here motion.
Springing out of your seat, you walk over to Mina - she looks so cute in her little tights that you have to bite back a smile.
“Don’t move, okay?” looking you in the eyes with her hands on your arms to make sure what she said registered, she must’ve seen you swooning over her in the corner of the studio.
Mina positions you in front of her, the rest of the class watching as she swiftly hoists her leg up and places her ankle on your shoulder- thigh pressed against your torso as she explains her movements, what it’s supposed to look and feel like while your jaw is on the floor.
Feeling the heat rise between your legs, you stand painfully still while Mina continues on teaching her class when suddenly two cold fingers guide your mouth shut.
Instantly turning red, you realize you had been caught gawking.
“Sorry.” whispering to her nonchalantly.
“Don’t be.” whispered back.
“I did teach this lesson today on purpose.” Mina winks at you, wearing a smirk on her face like she knew exactly what that would do to you.
“Alright, everyone! I think that’s enough for today!” dismissing everyone before turning her attention back to you- leg still up on your shoulder.
“Do you want to go back to your place now?” leaning in to kiss your cheek, pressing her core against you as she does.
The warmth that radiates from her is excruciating.
“I’ve never been more ready.” Body tensing as she removes her leg gracefully from you and giggles.
“Let’s go, then.”
Quickly gathering all of her stuff and making sure you had everything you needed, Mina runs into the back to grab something and tells you to meet her in the car.
You practically run to the car to get it started.
—
The door flies open, you take Mina’s bags and toss them on the couch. She’s giggling behind you as she closes the door and removes her jacket before placing it on the hook by the door.
You’re not sure what to do with yourself, patiently waiting for her to say something while you’re day dreaming about how she had you this morning.
“I’m going to shower and get comfy.” Kissing you before she disappears into your bedroom.
Removing your jacket and taking your shoes off, you sit on the couch and kick your feet up on the coffee table.
Grabbing the blanket tossed over the arm of the couch and throwing it over your legs, you turn the tv on and out on a random show to drown out the silence.
Scrolling through your phone, your stomach growls. You bet Mina is hungry too after her class.
Opening a delivery app, you scroll to your most frequently ordered dishes from Mina’s favorite restaurant, pressing order with no hesitation.
Hearing the shower kick on, you know you’ve got about 20 minutes before Mina is on the couch with you - stealing your blankets and cuddling up to you for warmth.
You grin at the thought and decide you should get more comfortable as well. Walking into the bedroom to change out of the jeans and sweater you were wearing, you hear a voice from the bathroom.
“Baby, Can you come here a second?” Mina chimes through the cracked door and the falling droplets.
Walking over to the door, you take your sweater off and lightly kick the door open.
“Yeah, hon?” eyes meeting Mina’s as she sits on the counter, palms flat on the surface, and completely in the nude.
“Come here…” reaching out for your hand.
You let her take it and tug you between her legs, pulling you into a sensual passionate kiss that drowned you in love.
Things heat up for a moment, before she pushes you away - tugging at the button of your pants and letting them drop to the floor.
“I love you.” softly spoken against your lips, her hands wandering around your neck and slipping down your back, nails against skin.
Though the sensation is light, it sends shockwaves of pure pleasure over you, goosebumps douse your skin.
The warm delicate satin of her fingertips with the partial sharpness of her nails melts you into her, welding together like two sheets of metal connecting under a scorching burst of heat.
Your hands raise up, cupping her face and keeping it close as your lips dance with hers. Tangoing through this passionate encounter when you feel her teeth pinch and tug softly on your lower lip.
The whimper you let out was more than enough; she had you right where she wanted you.
Mina’s finger raised up, pad to your bottom lip while your foreheads stay connected.
“Not yet.”
Both of you huffing and eyeing each other up and down, temptation running wild in each pass on each other.
A knock at the door interrupts the streaming moment.
“…I forgot I ordered us food…”
Mina’s hands slip down to your ass, squeezing it in her hands and giving you her signature gummy smile.
“What did you get?” Excitement present as you step away from her and she hops off the counter.
“Your favorite.” Winking at her and taking your jeans off.
You notice the wet spot she left on the counter and smirk.
“Meet you on the couch in 10?”
“Deal.” As she steps into the shower and you head towards the door.
—
Changing took seconds, slipping into sweats and a baggy tshirt and setting out Mina’s favorite clothes to steal from you.
Grey sweatpants, black hoodie.
Grabbing the food and bringing it to the kitchen, you wait until you hear the shower cut off to put it on plates.
Bringing them to the living room, setting them down on the table and walking back to the kitchen to get some drinks for the two of you.
Opting for a mixed drink, you get two rocks glasses out of the cabinet and put a couple ice cubes in them, swirling them around a little to chill the glasses.
Grabbing the bottle of rum off the refrigerator, you pour until you hit the top of the ice and finish it off with some Coke.
Bringing them carefully to the living room, Mina is already on the couch waiting for you - looking immaculate in your clothes. Hair leaving wet spots on the hoodie as it bends and curls it’s way through the drying process.
“OoOoOo, trying get me drunk?” Reaching for the glass she knew was hers before sipping it and setting it next to her plate.
Offering a giggle, you sit next to her and throw a blanket over both pairs of legs.
“Pick something you want to watch, baby.” taking a bite of your food and a swig of your drink.
The alcohol burns on its way down your throat, making a face as it warms your stomach.
“Maybe you’re trying to get drunk.” Mina chuckled next to you.
“Why would I be trying to get drunk?”
“So you won’t be so nervous later? If that’s the word to use.” flicking through the options and settling for a horror movie you have both seen so you don’t have to pay attention.
“Nervous? About what?” another bite with a sip following your confusion.
Mina glares at you, like you just forgot the encounter you’ve had in the bathroom.
“Fine.” Frigid tone slaps you across the face as she continues eating in silence.
“Oh, come on baby! Im just teasing you…” taking another bite.
“I’m sure you make a great dommy mommy.” Giggling and chewing your food.
Mina remains cold to you, her jaw tensing further with the jab at her dominance.
“Babe, I’m just playing. Please don’t take me seriously.” Looking over at her.
She doesn’t react, just continues eating and sipping her drink.
You give her the space she silently asked for.
—
After dinner was done, you grab her plate and go to the kitchen to rinse both off and put it in the dishwasher.
“Do you want another drink?” shouted to the living room.
“No.”
You hear the bedroom door close and silence following.
“Well, fuck.” Said under your breath as you pour yourself a shot and knock it back.
Sighing as you finish up in the kitchen and wash your hands, tossing the dish towel on the rack to dry and walking back to the living room.
The tv is off, Mina’s empty glass is on the table and the bedroom door is closed.
Walking up to the door, you lightly knock.
“Mina…are you okay?”
Silence.
“Mina…I’m sorry, I was just messing around! I didn’t mean to make you upset.” there’s a ping of sadness in your voice, this must’ve caught her attention.
“You didn’t.”
Another beat of silence.
“You can come in, you know.”
Cracking the door open slowly and stepping into the dark room, you see Mina sitting on a chair in black lace lingerie and a strap hanging from the side of the chair.
She stands, meeting you half way to the door.
“You’re so cute when you think you’ve upset me.” Her finger caresses your face, making your breath hitch.
“If you’re good…I’ll still give you what you want, okay?”
Nodding your head quickly but gently at what she says, you agree to her terms before you even know what they are.
“Good girl.”
*Fuck.*
“Are you ready?” the eye contact deflates your lungs - senses overloading as you gently nod your head once more.
Mina’s eyes dilate- her jaw tenses as she pulls away from you.
“Strip and sit in that chair for me. I’ll be right back.” Kissing your cheek and vanishing out the door.
Doing exactly as you’re told - you strip completely nude as quickly as possible and sit in the chair facing the door.
Mina walks back in, seeing you being so obedient and smirks.
“Now you want to be good for me?” arms crossed and hiding something behind them.
You’re too blinded by her beauty to notice. Black lace hugging her body so perfectly, you’re drooling at the thought of ripping it from her body and licking every drop of slick she has between her legs.
“You spent so much time earlier trying to provoke me…” Mina walks towards you, slowly.
“And yet here you are…”
As she gets closer she uncrosses her arms, revealing some thick red ribbon she must’ve taken from the studio earlier in the day.
Squatting down in front of you, she puts the spool of ribbon under her chin, resting her head on it before lifting her brow at you, play confusion on her face.
She’s taunting you.
You like it a little too much.
As you feel the build up of slick leaking out of you, you try to subtly clench your legs to try and prevent it from being visible to Mina. Not wanting to let her know that she was winning this mental game you were playing.
“Here you are,” she repeats, placing her hands on your knees and spreading your legs apart.
“Acting like a pathetic needy whore for me.”
Your eyes shift from left to right, not sure where to look or what to say.
“Interesting. Isn’t it?” She begins unraveling the ribbon in front of you, making sure you watch as she does.
“Put your hands behind your back, slut.” Standing and walking around the chair.
Once again, you listen.
“Good girl.” Whispered to you from behind as you feel the softness of the ribbon wrap around your wrists and tighten harshly.
“I’m going to have so much fun with you tonight, baby.” The final knot tied and you are unable to move now, she’s made sure to wrap the ribbon around the back of the chair so you can’t move, let alone get up.
Mina grabs the strap from the back of the chair, returning to your line of sight and squatting down in front of you.
“Lift your feet.”
You comply.
Slipping eat foot into the faux leather material, hoisting it up to your thighs and waiting for you to lift your hips. You instinctively follow her movements, allowing her to fix the buckles on you tightly.
Mina stands in front of you again, in all her glory, removing the black lace thong she was wearing and tossing it towards the bathroom.
The smirk on her lips drove you insane, the neediness radiating from you was tense and very easy to read, despite how much you tried to keep calm.
Stepping closer, she sat on your lap - straddling you, dildo in front of her as she got ready to proceed. She snaps back into the Mina you knew well for a single moment.
“If anything happens tonight that you don’t like…you say “red light” okay?” Cupping your face to reassure you she was still there -a glimmer of your sweet, loving girlfriend.
Simply nodding your head and leaning into her was not a good enough answer. Mina harshly pinches your nipples, brows furrowing against her stunning features.
“Use your words, bitch.”
“Y-yes, Mina” winced out between breaths.
Before anything else could be said, Mina leans for a deep and powerful kiss, no space between your torsos when the feeling of her hand distracts you as it slips up to your throat and squeeze. Letting out a satisfied hum and biting down on your lip before releasing it.
“I’ve waited so long to have you like this…” harshly biting your neck as her weight shifts, grinding down against the strap firmly attached to you.
“You just had to go and be a little brat this morning, didn't you? Wanted me to make it worse? I don’t know how rough I can be with you just yet but let’s try and push your limits.” Each grind harder than the last.
Hearing the sounds that were emitted from your lap was excruciating. Even with friction, she glides so easy up and down, teasing herself and you as she does.
“Your punishment is watching.” growled out before tightening her grip around your throat.
Lifting herself up, you watch as the tip of the strap enters her.
So slow in her movements so you can take in every single breath she‘s taking. Every sigh is music to your ears, the squelch of her cunt as she brought herself down on you, and the way her body tensed and released when she was finally bottomed out.
“Fuck baby, you feel so fucking good.” lifting herself slowly and slamming down on you.
An attempt to bring your arms around her only to feel your restraints tighten against your wrists.
Tugging on them again incites a chuckle from Mina who shows no signs of stopping her movements.
“No touching, fuck ugh!” Her hands falter around your throat, loosening and then tightening again as she rides faster.
The craving inside you is painful, watching as the thin layer of sweat builds up on her skin , hearing her grunt and moan without being about to touch her…excruciating. Soaked was an understatement, you needed to feel something against your pussy.
Too needy to care, you start rocking your hips and getting what little friction you could against your pussy while also contributing to Mina‘s pleasure.
Her hand maneuver up, placing two finger behind your jaw.
“Open your mouth.” How she could get her voice to be stern and whiny, you’ll never know.
“Mina, please let me touch you! I need to fucking taste you baby, please!” Whining at her while thrusting up into her with the range of motion you had.
“Shut the fuck up and open your mouth!” Riding faster the more defiant you get.
“Now!” Pressing her fingers against the back of your jaw to assist you in the task.
Opening your mouth for her, you watch as she hangs her head over you for a moment.
A warm sensation between your legs and in your mouth- she dripped her spit down onto your tongue, dragging her thumb over your bottom lip.
“Swallow.” Putting her fingers on your chin and helping you close your mouth so she could watch as you ingest her saliva.
Mina lets out a guttural moan, bucking her hips faster and faster.
“Fuck- just like that!”
Suddenly, her nails are in your chest. Sharply scratching down over your tits, leaving trials of red marks and a hint of blood shines through the clawed streaks.
Hissing as the sting sets it, you can’t focus on anything except what’s happening in the moment.
Mina bouncing on the strap attached to you.
The pulse you feel between your legs.
Her whines and moan.
The smacking of skin.
Fuck, you need her.
Her mouth finds its way to your neck, biting harshly and sucking on your skin leaving trails of bruises in her wake.
Mina’s body tenses, sputtering hips haphazardly thrusting against you when she cries out - arms wrapping around you so tightly, you barely have room to breathe.
Gasping as she tries to continue rocking her hips, the attempt failing, you thrust up as much as you can to help her ride her orgasm out.
No time wasted, Mina gets up from your lap. Legs shaking in an attempted quick recovery as she starts to unbuckle the strap off you.
The only thing you can hear is your heart beat until she shatters the silence with her sultry voice.
“Well now that’s out of the way…” stepping into the cum covered strap herself and standing before you, knife in hand.
“It’s time for the real fun.” Quickly slicing the ribbon to release your arms, you start grabbing at her.
Whining is not enough to explain the sounds filling the room. The absolutely primal want for her was excruciating and you’d do just about anything to feel some type of touch.
“To the bed…Now.” Pointing to where she wants you.
Clinging to her, you have desperation written all over your face. The ragged breath shared between the two of you leaves little to the unknown. Both of you know
Taking in the way your eyes scream for her- she grabs your shoulders harshly, pushing you with the same aggression to the bed.
“Do. As. You’re. Told. Bitch.“ flipping you onto your stomach and pressing your face down into the mattress.
Taking the warm tip of the strap you just had attached to you, she smears her own cum all over your entrance, using it as lube to glide up and down your slit.
“How does that feel? I can see how much you’re fucking leaking for me, whore. Does it make you rabid to know that my cum is about to be inside you?” Taunting you with her tone out of pure evil.
“So fucking good, please baby! I need to feel you.” Muffled through the sheets thread count as she pushed you further into them.
“You think you can just do whatever you want? Huh?” Flipping you over onto your back and lifting your thighs up so you’re sat at the edge of the bed.
Her eyes are black with desire and lust, pulsating at every whine choked out of you.
She takes her fingers, running them up your pussy and gathering as much slick as she can, knowing it would only take moments for you to produce more.
“Open” tilting her head up and watching as you do what you’re told, her fingers reach the back of your throat - forcing a gag from you.
Eyes watering as you choke on her fingers coated in your essence, tears spilling at the lack of stimulation from her, and sniffling as the frustration boils over - you are past words the moment she removes her digits from your mouth.
“You were such a good girl…and I’m a woman of my word.” Slipping the warm strap right into your cunt.
There was no push back, sliding in so easily - all the way in.
The tip hits your cervix and your hands fly up to grab Mina’s shoulders, clawing into them while letting out the loudest most guttural moan you’ve ever heard.
The warmth of the strap was a sensation that was new to you, Mina’s cum coating every inch of it and now it was inside of you - acting as a lubricant and actively creating more with each thrust.
Mina wasted no time, forcing your arms down next to your head and pounding into you. Every single slam like a shockwave of heaven that caused every cell in your body to pulsate with pure pleasure.
“Look at you” more taunting, she was enjoying this.
“Taking my strap like the slut you are. So fucking good for me.”
Barely able to understand what she was saying, you were already seeing stars and focusing on holding your orgasm back.
“Do you like the way my cum feels inside you, baby?” Seductively spewing from her, the contrast between how sweet her voice was and how harshly her hands were holding you down was diabolically sinister.
Something you never expected from sweet Mina.
“Please, Mina…fuck, oh my god!” Nodding your head at her vigorously, hands fighting her grip and she slams into you harder.
“Please what? Are you ready to cum already? What if I’m not done toying with you yet?”
And that sentence pushed you so far off the edge that you were sure that if the neighbors didn’t know her name before…they definitely did now.
Vision blurring as if you’re going 0-160 in a millisecond, harsh grip of your wrists tighten as you twitch violently underneath her, groaning and moaning her name and only her name as your cunt convulses for her.
And the sheets…the poor sheets.
Ruined.
The only thing you can hear is your pulse, your heavy breathing and the sound of something dripping on the hardwood floor of your bedroom.
Mina lets go of your wrists, kissing your cheek tenderly and comforting you while you come back down from the height of being ruined. Tracing shapes on your chest as she slowly pulls out, cooing and reassuring you that you did great.
“You did so great for me, my love. So so perfect.” Moving a piece of your hair off your drenched forehead and tucking it behind your ear.
“I’m going to run you a hot bath, okay?”
Nodding your head, unable to speak - you watch as she vanishes to the bathroom.
You can hear the tub running as you drift off into a light nap full of bliss.
Mina wakes you after 5 minutes, letting you know the bath was ready.
“Come on, baby. Let me help you.” Lifting you bridal style and bringing you into the bathroom.
There is no energy to be had, no way to express the gratitude you feel in this moment as your stunning girlfriend carries you to a hot bath that she drew for you after absolutely ruining you.
Placing you gently into the water, she hands you a cold bottle of water and kisses your forehead.
“I’ll be right back, you just relax here.” And she’s off again.
It’s hard to stay awake. Between the adrenaline and the warmth of the water hugging you - it’s hard to fight your eyes even through the sting of your freshly ruined pussy but Mina is sure to check in on you every few minutes or so to make sure you aren’t sleeping.
Walking into the bathroom with the sheets and a few wet towels bundled up, she tosses them into the laundry hamper and turns back to you.
“I knew you were messy…but wow.” Letting out a giggle and unhooking the bra that was never removed.
Stepping into the bath behind you, she puts her legs on either side of you and lets you lay back on her. Playing with your hair and massaging your shoulders and arms, she lets out a deep sigh before kissing your cheek again.
“So what did you think?” There is a bit of fear behind the question, but the answer is obvious.
“We should do that more often.“ smirking, even though she can’t see your face.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I liked it a lot…you’re so irresistible when you’re frustrated.” Giggling as you grab her hand to lock your fingers together.
“Well now you being a brat makes sense…next time I won’t go so easy on you…”
“Easy?” Concern written all over your face and a devilish smirk lay across Mina’s.
“Don’t worry about that now, my love. Tomorrow we can discuss that.”
#twice x reader#twice imagines#kpop x reader#twice smut#kpop imagines#myoui mina x reader#mina x reader#mina imagines#mina smut#myoui mina x fem!reader#mina x fem!reader#minaaaaaaaaaa#twice mina x reader#myoui mina imagines#myoui mina#mina myoui
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Okay, so the remaining question is: what happens when Anthony is sick? Is he insufferable or is he a good patient because he doesn't want to upset Kate?
And is a terrible patient. Awful. Refuses to admit he even is sick. He’s never felt better actually, thank you Kate. The inhuman amounts of mucous he’s producing? That’s nothing. Absolutely nothing, Kate!
“Just let me look after you.” Kate sighed, looking at her fiancé with bloodshot eyes and a nose red from tissue after tissue being wiped against it.
“I’ve never felt better, Kate.”
Kate covertly sprayed disinfectant where Anthony’s hand had just been.
“Is Daddy poorly?” Neddy asked, frowning at Anthony from his place clinging to Kate’s side.
“Yes.” Kate replied at exactly the same time as Anthony said-
“No! Daddy’s fine, Buddy.”
“He looks sick.” Neddy said to Kate in a voice that was supposed to be a whisper.
“He is sick.” She sighed as she ran her fingers through her son’s hair.
“I’m not sick.” Anthony scoffed, resolutely crossing his arms over his chest.
Kate narrowed her eyes, sizing up her partner who out so much dedication and care into looking after her and their son and took nothing for himself and she knew what she had to do.
She stared at him, letting her eyes lose focus until the tears came and she forced her shoulders to heave.
Anthony shot forward, his brow furrowed. “Hey, hey. I’m okay.”
“You’re not.” Kate forced herself to sob. “You’re sick and you don’t even want me to look after you.”
“No, no.” He crushed her against his chest. “I do. I really do. I’ll stay in bed all day, i’ll let you fuss around okay? I’ll go to bed right now.”
“Okay.” Kate kissed his cheek quickly and waited for him to shuffle out of the room before she wiped her tears humming happily to herself.
“Amma, are you okay?” Neddy asked giving her the same concerned frown his father had.
Kate scoffed, “I’m fine, Baby. Sometimes Daddy’s a stubborn donkey and he needs to be tricked into doing what’s good for him.”
“Daddy’s a donkey?”
“All men are Donkeys, Baby.”
#surprise neddy au#kathony#anthony x kate#kate sharma#kate sheffield#anthony bridgerton#molly’s asks and answers
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So. Ladies and ladiettes of the press, I am finally going to talk about That Which We Do Not Mention Here. Yes, that. The Big Bad M. The Ew. That thing I Don't even respond to. Manifesting. Yes yes clutch your pearls, I am actually going to teach you the Manifesting Code. Yes I know. I can't believe I'm doing this either. You KNOWWW idgaf about it when I'm giving it for free like this but anyway. The love and light and angel numbers ppl this is your sign to unfollow me I'm about to dismantle your entire belief system.
Well then. Ah where do I start. First off, everyone say thank you to all the spiritual girls and monks and witches I've met and to me for being wayyy too open minded for a Christian Catholic. Everyone say Thank You, B.
First, manifesting is a feminine thing. You HAVE to be in your feminine to manifest. Ask my masculina ass, I'd know. Would've accomplished 5 times more if I could just for God's sake be feminine but heh. If you can't be in your feminine, you need to find someone that is and channel it? Use it? like your dad and bf and male friends and ugly friends are doing with you. Good news is they don't even have to consent to it, energy fields work on proximity not willpower. Like you don't have to consent being affected by nuclear energy if you're in it's proximity you will get affected. If you are feminine and always tired or drained man do I have news for you :). Exactly. WHY? Because to manifest is to CREATE, and what is femininity, children? The manifesting code is the femininity code.
Second, manifesting is a container thing. Container, in the exact sense of the word. What is a container, you ask, and how do I expand it? Well, have you considered google? I ask back. You shake your head and I nod mine. I signed up for this, after all. Give me a minute I'll get to it.
Third, Manifesting is a question of truth. And not what you wish the truth was, what the truth really is. I love liars I do yesssss the world is a stage and you are a performer yess lie BUT you can't lie to yourself? Or to, well, God? The Universe? The Source? Whatever you believe in? And the more you try to the more you suffer, and for what? Again, I'll get to it.
Now, some truths I need to throw out there for no reason-
Gratitude is a lack mindset I'm sorry. I'm sorry it is
Being girly does have ties to femininity but its not exactly the same. This isn't about that Grating ass Mina Irfan voice, and this is coming from someone that does not stand for female on female slander.
Mothering and nurturing are masculine traits actually. Coming from someone again, so masculine I have a whole blog and do massive coaching to channel that energy so I don't baby adults.
You manifest in your feminine you keep it in your masculine. One day, when I am as jobless and bored as I am now, we will talk about this masc/ fem thing okay? You need to either be fully fem in a room with mascs that will balance it out (cool thing is, they don't even have to consent to it muahahaha). Extremely dangerous but what's a little thrill to it? or balance a 60/40. 60 masculine. If not, You'll just get it but not keep it, and what's the point? Again, what is creation with no sustenance? Balance. Yin/Yang or whatever it's called, good thing is it doesn't always have to be within you. You can balance by proximity ;).
We do not Act As If in this house okay? Visualization is as far as I'm willing to go, but we do not act as if here. Matter of fact if you could just not visualize either.
Life, the purpose of life, is experience and relationships. That's it. everything that does not meet these two will cause pain. Pain is a result of separation and stagnation.
There is no good, there is no bad. Only time, space, perception and interpretation.
(I can't believe I'm doing this rn?Oh how the mighty have fallen???). PS: just to put it out there i still HATEEE the manifesting ppl we are not the sameeeeee ok bye. And I will never again talk about this don't text me about it and if I delete it before you get it idk merry Christmas?and idc what your guru said.
OK i'll do it. I'll do it.
PART ONE: FEMININITY, DETACHMENT AND EXPERIENCES
As agreed above I'll get into the fem/masc dynamics some moons to come when I manipulate my way inro a holiday just to spend it working for no pay. For today, in the interest of this topic, lemme run it soft by you.
Femininity is the art of being. Creation is being. It does not require enrgy or effort to be exerted, just transferred. I'll keep this PG13 for the religious kids that can't fathom the I AM GOD mentality so let's say it this way- everything exists, its just brought into vision? By a transfer of energy, and transfer does not need effort, just a medium. The way you need steel to transfer heat from the fire into your food to cook it? In that way the steel pan is simply a medium. It does nothing, just exists and uhm, surrenders? That is femininity, the medium. It's a state of just- being. Detachment but surrender? If you get it you get it? The steel pan doesn't care if the heat is too much or too little or if the food is cooked or not? It will pass as much heat as is being transferred? Detachment. But then it has to kinda surrender? Itself? Heat could destroy it if too much, and yet it has to take the risk? Look if you don't get it I don't know how else to explain it to you. Femininity is surrendering to the transfer? Aka creation, being indifferent and surrendering to it, knowing you risk destruction? I'll stop it there for now :)
To manifest you need to understand- (And this is where if you do not understand the I AM God mentality you fall off) everything that exists exists not because of you, but through you. Like children. Second, Everything exists. Third, it is not your business how it exists or for what. Fourth, you don't get to choose how it exists or for what (THIS< ESPECIALLY THIS? When they say submission they actually mean surrender, and not to a man / masc). What does this mean? If you want money okay but you don't get to decide how it comes to you. You create the container for it and move on. Will you collect it? Inherit? Get a promotion? Gift? Surrender and detach from that and move on. It is insisting you have to get it through a raise that's keeping you broke. Channel, container. surrender and detach.
So this is the feminine code as pertains to this- I AM.
Thats it, bye.
Ok I'll get into it. Everything you want, you want because it's you. Ma idk how to explain this without getting all witchy its just- We are all one consciousness? If you get it you get it if not, that's ok you won't die maybe just suffer unnecessarily and keep coming back to the 3D until you get it hehe. The Ocean is one but it has kelp. kelp is not the ocean the ocean is not kelp but kelp is part of the ocean and the ocean is part of the kelp. That's the best I can do.
On to experiences, experiencing is a feminine trait. You know how men will be in a room with just tv and mattress and be okay? Just not shower and be okay? Not realize how that thing they did affected people? Be so, disconnected? Because men are born predisposed to masculinity and those people can't experience nothing to save their lives. No perception of sense. Sensuality is a feminine trait because it is experiencing through the senses. The girls that like to smell like roses and eat good food and have soft skin, those girly girls? They're feminine in that they experience through the senses ie sensuality. If you're learning to be feminine start with the senses. Senses are how we experience the world and what did we say was purpose no. 2 for existence? Uh huh. What does that have to do with manifesting?
You can not manifest if you are not experiencing life. Your guru wants you to light the candles and wear that dress you like and all that because it means you are experiencing life (Again, we experience the world through our senses) and then, only then, can you manifest. Shout out to my ADD/ADHD gang we can't manifest to save our own lives because we are never in the room- get CBT and learn to stay in the room. You can not manifest in escapism, why we said learn to be in the room? Escapism is masculinity (again, ask me I'd know). You need to be in the room fully.
NOWWWWWWW lets gooo to the part of the love and light ppl I hate- refusing and blocking experiences because you have decided they are bad and interpreted them as painful is how you get DepresseD. That is the science of depression and PTSD and all that, mind you, you refuse to accept an experience because you decided it's bad. And this is not to say all experiences are good, in what world is assault or loss of a loved one good- I'm not saying gaslight yourself. You are NOT grateful he broke up with you stop lying to your own gratitude journal. I'm saying- accept it AS IS. It is what it is. If you're hurt you're hurt. If you're in pain feel the pain, its an experience and again WHY ARE WE ALIVE PEOPLE? Accept your experiences. Feel your feelings. Surrender to it? It is what it is? Stop trying to control it? We don't control our feelings we control our actions based on them. We feel our feelings okay? No badbitchness is acting like some stone in the name of being stoic. Femininity is being stoic. It is what it is. You block your experiences you refuse to surrender you refuse to detach you refuse to be indifferent and, Y'know.
2. CONTAINERS, WHAT THEY ARE AND HOW TO EXPAND THEM.
Do consider google for this, thanks. No fr. How do I even explain this. Y'all don't pay me enough for this? Matter of fact y'all don't pay me at all? Can't wait to resent y'all bc of the energy imbalance lol. If i ever delete this blog that's the resentment.
The shark in the tank we know this story. Shark in tak only grows to the size of that tank. Shark in ocean grows to max size. Same animal. Difference? The container. You get? You get? YOU GETTTTTT?
You can only receive as much as you can contain. Think of yourself both as the tank and the shark. You can only grow as big as your container. You can only hold as much as the maximum capacity of your container.
THIS, THIS- CHILDREN- IS WHERE WE GET TO IT. THIS IS THE REAL SHIT.
Now, say you're a mother. Billionaire. Can have it all in a day. Your 10 year old that has never even skated asks for a G Wagon. Now, can you buy it? Of Course. Will You? Uhm. No, no obvioulsy no. Not because you can't, because she does not have the CONTAINER for it. She needs to be old enough. Then she needs to get a license. Then maybe a corolla. Then she can get that Wagon.
See that thing I just described? That is her expanding her container.
The container is the space the thing you are asking for will manifest in. Trip to paris okay do you have a passport? Can you handle yourself in Paris? Do you even know what you want to do in paris? NO ONE cares if you have the money for it btw it's embarrassing af to manifest money uhm? It's giving lack lol. Do you have space to hold the thing you want? Manifesting being a billionaire when you can not manage 1k without going crazy, it's not coming. Expand ypur money container.
Once upon a time couple of revolutions back I had a stupid crush on this XY person? The consuming kind? We had chemistry and he just- fell off. Just cut it off? And I'm like uhm universe bestie I think you forgot the I want it I get It Code? Desire- reception pipeline? My 3% femininity? That's what we want? then later read this thing that says God will not let you have it because You will lose yourself to it and God needs you to be yourself. Amen? Given you are the Universe/ God/ Figurehead X trying to experience itself through your pov- see why it would never let you have that thing unless you have a container for it? Because it could be the thing that destroys you? And it wasn't wrong lol I was willing to shift my entire life for this one XY lol. Not until I expanded that container that I met my now bf, and container so big if we break up it'll suck but anyway on to the next?
Before you manifest, create the container for that thing. Create space for it. Give it a channel -several actually- to follow to you, then let it go and move on.
You want money, okay. How much? Six figures. KK. First, get financial education on how to deal with money, then put ourself in situations for it to come to you. Work towards that promotion but do not attach to it, don't think it's the only way you can get it. Then, date a millionaire. Then have a business, play the lotter idk. Multiple channels and a soft space for it to land on.
You want a masculine provider okay good for you. Expand that container and put yourself in his path.
You want to have more fun? good for you. cut off those pessimists and cowards. say more yes's? Yeses? Whatever. Wtf even is english lol. (I'm tipsy if you can't tell). Put yourself out there. Seek more experiences.
You want to be healthy? Okay expand that container. Eat healthy. Move more. Do health affirmations. See a doctor. Cut out the toxins.
You want X- okay. Expand that container. Max the channels. Surrender. detach.
One word- EXPOSURE.
3. THE DESIRE CODE
If only I had a dollar for every single time I talk to y'all about how to reach your goals and find out, less than three minutes in- this twenty five year old unit of an absolutely gorgeous woman has NO idea what she wants and is chasing the goals she thinks she is supposed to chase I'd have bought a car by now? Understandably socialization is extremely brutal in girls so I'm not going to go off on you, I'm going to tell you you can NOT UNWANT something. And you can not superimpose whatever desires you think are more noble or acceptable. And, in case it's not obvious by now, this Universe will keep hurting you until you go back to factory settings. You can fight, if you want, but you won't win. And the universe / God/ Figurehead (If your figurehead is masculine don't ever talk to me again?) responds to desire. Not wants. Not needs. Not prayers. Desires. Save time, go to therapy, return to factory settings and operate from there. Desire is a link to a point on a plane? Its the softest I can put it. It's a very straight line, if you fall off you get hurt because there is no path outside it? You want what you want. Go get it stop trying to not, especially for something as stupid as society. Just to gag you- You'll come back to this plane as many times and suffer through all of the lifespan until you just meet your needs/ desires so if you hate being alive well. There's a shortcut-
Either you manifest your actual desire or you manifest fun fun fun ways the Source will come up with to get you back on track your choiceeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
There was another point probably but I can't compute.
BMAC
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What a year, huh! I haven't nearly as much as I did last year, but June was my very first time feeling confident writing smut during the entire nine years I've been writing fanfiction, so I'm treating that as a personal victory. Anyways, here's the goods, my personal favorites are in red (you already know, string of fate):
tender eyes that shine | M | 16.1k words
A character study in which Carlos learns to love himself a little more, even the soft parts.
love can pull you out of yesterday | T | 38.9k words
The day TK falls through the ice is a day that Carlos doesn't want to remember, but it's one he can't forget. It's the day he's currently stuck living over and over and over again.
something to give each other | E | 11.9k words
12 times TK and Carlos love each other in their rawest form. or Sex. 12 ways.
goodnights and goodbyes | G | 4.6k words
TK and Carlos journey to New York for the first time to attend TK's high school reunion. While Carlos is dreading the thought of socialization in a new city, TK is dreading the thought of running into something, or rather someone, from his past.
furever home | G | 4.9k words
“Do you think he bites?” TK asks, bringing Carlos back to the present. His question is laced with uncertainty, but it’s not strong enough to raise cause for concern. “You didn’t seem to mind biting all that much the other night,” Carlos playfully counters, pulling out the plastic food dish that’s covered in imprinted black paw-prints. Pun, somewhat intentional. TK, fondly, rolls his eyes. “Really?” Carlos' chuckles are lost in the mix of kibble hitting the bottom of the plastic bowl. “Force of habit,” He defends with a shrug. or Carlos and TK get a dog.
modus operandi | E | 1.1k words
Carlos walks through the front door, smelling of gunpowder, sweat, and satisfaction.TK almost falls apart on the kitchen floor right then and there. He’s just finishing putting Lou II back in his tank and putting the rest of the bell pepper away. “Hey baby,” TK greets, his smile turning a bit electric when he seems the gleam in Carlos’ eyes. He watches as Carlos takes off his hat and removes his holster. “Just finished feeding Lou II. He was hungry.” “He’s not the only one,” Carlos declares before undoing the knot in his tie. He collides with TK, mouths overtaking one another, no air escaping between them. Carlos tastes like married life, missed dinners and the right kind of mayhem. or Carlos solves the case and needs to put all of the adrenaline somewhere.
devour me | E | 20.5k words
de·vour [ dih-vou-uhr, -vou-er ]: to consume destructively, recklessly, or wantonly or kinktober prompt fills
come home to my heart | M | 2.8k words
TK crawls up his body as if he’s a path only he gets to trek. As soon as they’re face to face, TK briefly stills, falling even more in love with his husband’s eyes. Brown, warm, and somehow both inviting and begging to be let in. TK wants to tell him that he doesn’t need to beg; there’s a place in his heart where he’s always welcomed. Carlos smiles and TK’s pulled out of his thoughts, smiling back, almost subconsciously. He can’t help it, Carlos just has this effect on him. He leans in, and Carlos opens his mouth, the heat tantalizing and teasing. or a 5x05 Coda in which we see "sexy time" reach fruition and that loving kiss become something more
moments in love
when the morning comes
a pretty good team
it's okay. we're okay.
sidewalk chalk, covered in snow
Don't worry, I'm not done, I made a couple of gif sets too!
“and you were gazing at me, more than gazing — my gaze was dreaming you, and yours was dreaming me.”
a boy's best friend is his mother
Thanks to @heartstringsduet, @bonheur-cafe @thisbuildinghasfeelings, @whatsintheboxmh, and @henrygrass for the tags!
No pressure tagging the lot of you because I want everyone to show off:
@reyesstrand, @herefortarlos, @carlos-in-glasses, @paperstorm, @actual-sleeping-beauty, @ambiguouspenny
@sapphic--kiwi, @strandnreyes, @sheholdsthemoon, @sanjuwrites, @decafdino
@danieljradcliffe, @freneticfloetry, @guardian-angle22, @goldenskykaysani, @hereghostslive
@honeybee-taskforce, @kiloskywalker, @lutavero, @literateowl, @lemonlyman-dotcom
@lightningboltreader, @orchidscript, @irispurpurea, @ironheartwriter, @irispurpurea
@your-catfish-friend, @three-drink-amy, @theghostofashton, @thebumblecee, @tellmegoodbye
@rosedavid, @reasonandfaithinharmony, @ravens-words, @captain-gillian, @nancys-braids
@emsprovisions, @never-blooms, @eclectic-sassycoweyes, @welcometololaland, @rmd-writes
@basilsunrise, @carlos-in-glasses, @carlos-tk, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut
@mikibwrites, @everlastingday, @noxsoulmate, @lire-casander and of course, the biggest open tag every <3
and as always, if it's been hard to create this year, that doesn't make you any less of a writer, artist, gif maker, etc. you just needed a break, we all do sometimes :)
#me: idc it's just television whatever also: me here's 100k words of these two guys falling in love in 40 different ways#year in review#tag you're it#my writing#tarlos
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For the requests - can I please ask for any Gadriel fluff/smut/comfort (any of these) with fem reader? Thank you!!!
I actually don’t write smut. I got this fluffy idea almost immediately. There’s not enough old women. This kinda took a path all its own.
He huffed as he paced impatiently within his room. What was the lieutenant hiding? Even now he was resting in his quarters after collapsing when they came in contact with those marks of chaos. It was too strange. Too suspicious. He-
“Gadriel,” rasped an old voice just outside the door.
He paused in his anger.
“I know you’re in there.”
He sighed, knowing he couldn’t bring himself to keep her out.
He opened his door, letting an old ad mech shuffle in with her cane. Blue lenses were dim and any bit of skin was wrinkled and leathery. Her legs squeaked.
He took a knee and assisted her getting up to sit on his bed. She stared forward, hand resting on her cane.
She patted his pauldron, “You’re still such a good boy.”
He didn’t move as she reached out and pinched a cheek.
“And still very handsome,” she added. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“You know I never deny a visit from you,” the Sergeant said.
“Mmm,” she hummed. “How goes the fight?”
“We have achieved victories but we suffer the loss of our brothers,” Gadriel growled. “Lyreo and Elion… they are dead. And I wasn’t even with them.”
“You regret this decision?” She inquired. “Not like you to split up your squad.”
He scoffed, “It was not my decision. The captain has placed a lieutenant over my squad. He has my command.”
“You do not sound pleased,” she commented while rhythmically nodding. “Speak to me.”
Gadriel spoke freely, “He does things in strange ways. He is cut off and will not speak to us. I feel as though he is already disappointed with us. Condemning our actions before they have even happened! He shuts down my suggestions despite I having lead this squad before him!”
“It is always difficult to relay leadership to another,” she said. “You always found that difficult. You’ve always been ambitious. Hmm, but I sense this is not all?”
“His past is shrouded in mystery,” he exasperated. “He refuses to tell us anything. I question his motives and who he really is. He was part of the Deathwatch, a noble honor, but acts as if though it is a shame! He also collapsed upon coming across signs of the archenemy. Even now he rests in his room.”
“The captain will not listen to my concerns. He is dismissive. I know he cannot afford internal strife among the ranks and is more concerned with this war. Yet why place the Lieutenant over my squad? I have tried to consider what errors I have made to cause this decision but I am still at a loss!”
She placed a hand on his, signaling to him that it was his turn to listen.
She reached up and smoothed back some of his hair, cold metal brushing his skin.
“My poor Gadriel,” she hummed. “So many questions. So few answers. Perhaps this lieutenant is not here as a punishment to you but as a test. Maybe one from the captain. Maybe from the Omnissiah. Maybe just a simple case of clashing personalities. Do not dismiss your past accomplishments and drive.”
“But-“
“Ah, ah, ah,” she hushed. “You can’t fool me. Astartes pass all the time. Baselines even more. The passing of your squad mates is not your fault. Nor is it your lieutenant. There’s always the case of a better or different choice. We don’t always make them. This is war.”
Gadriel looked like he wanted to protest but chose not to. He wouldn’t dare argue with her solely out of respect.
“As for the suspicion,” she continued. “You are resourceful and academic. You know how to research. If others will not tell you, learn for yourself. There should be records on this Astartes. Reading to gain knowledge and learn of history is the best thing one can do for themselves.”
Gadriel nodded, “I know. You taught me that. I planned to go to the archives soon.”
“Good. I shan’t keep you long. We’ll both be headed the same direction. But I had to come see you though. I always know when one of my boys is upset.”
She cupped his cheek, “You fight hard, you follow your orders, remember the codex and what I taught you. But most of all, remember: you should enjoy fighting for the Omnissiah.”
He nodded and found himself resting his head on her lap.
“Thank you,” he mumbled. “You always put me at ease. I am honored to have you as a mentor. I admit, I find physical affection embarrassing but I appreciate you speaking to me in the privacy of my room.”
She chuckled as she stroked his head, “Like I said Gadriel, I know you. Now come, help an old magos back to the archives. My shipment of new legs won’t be here for a bit and these ones are rusty.”
He helped her off the bed and offered his arm as he assisted her out.
#warhammer 40k#wh40k#warhammer community#warhammer 40000#40k#space marine#warhammer fic#warhammer40k#my writing#warhammer#warhammer oc#warhammercommunity#warhammer fanfic#wh40#wh40k oc#wh40k fic#wh40000#wh 40k#space marine ii#space marine 2#lieutenant titus#demetrian titus#sergeant gadriel#gadriel#gadriel 40k
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I'm just gonna leave it here lol. Come on, Zoro can be pretty dumb, that's the point of it. Always has been. You think Zoro even noticed he chomped down some razorblades? Ofc he didn't! It was just some crunchy food for him. And he's too airheaded to realize only his lunchbox had anything crunchy in it lol. There's a reason why Luffy and Zoro are besties, and that reason is: they're both kinda dumb. Personally, it only makes me like them more.
But if anyone wants to go serious route here, I think we should instead ask this question: what made Zoro this way? Is he so used to eat trash to survive that a bit of poison and inedible things don't affect him all that much anymore? When we look at Zoro's backstory we can realize that he was pretty much always alone. No family, always training. Like sure, he had the dojo, but he didn't think they're his family or at least we never see anyone treat Zoro this way or him addressing them as family. He called Kouzaburo just "some old guy". No one told him they're all probably relatives either (we know thanks to SBS that they, in fact, are somewhat related). Zoro lost his parents and was on his own ever since (his father died fighting against pirates, his mom was a bandit and died of illness). How did he find the dojo, what did he do to survive before they took him in? Let's not forget Zoro was always full of pride and very stubborn. I doubt descendants of samurais would just tell him "we need to take you in, otherwise you will starve". Maybe they told him instead that they will take him in only if he promises to train (because he has potential), so in exchange he tried to be good with swords, so he can somewhat repay them for their kindness and care. Like to show their efforts to train him didn't go to waste.
Anyway, my point is, Zoro at some point in childhood might have also learned how it's like to be starving what a coincidence, it's like with Sanji huh. Luffy also knows that feeling, when Garp left him in the jungle alone and told him he needs to survive by himself. He had to try out things to eat if he didn't want to die of hunger. We can laugh that Luffy is so stupid that he's eating any mushrooms he finds, but that's probably something he learned as a kid to do to survive. So I bet Zoro, who can eat any trash you give him, is also showing us he didn't have an easy time as a child.
Disclaimer of sorts: And before anyone protests that only Sanji is allowed to have a starvation as a theme in his backstory, otherwise it won't be unique anymore, I dunno, what about Nami (who lived in poverty and at times had to survive on tangerines alone), Usopp (what did he eat after his mom passed away? who took care of him?), Chopper (yeah, he kinda ate a devil fruit because he was hungry and somehow assumed that looks edible huh), Robin (lately it's been revealed how she had to eat from trash to survive) and outside Strawhats, what about Law? After he got out of Flevance and before he joined Donquixotes, he had to survive somehow. The only possible way he could have done that is by living on the streets and by eating trash or stealing. There's a lot of starving kids in One Piece, that theme is not exclusive to Sanji, but it also doesn't make it any less special. Sanji himself is what made it actually special; by vowing he will feed all the starving ones, no matter what troubles it will bring him, no matter if someone he feeds has bad intentions or might be a bad person. He's not letting anyone starve and nothing is ever gonna make him regret feeding people, even if they try to harm him instead of showing gratitude. That's what's truly special about Sanji's backstory, the starvation bit is just allowing him to relate to starving people more. You can say all you want about Germa, but Judge didn't starve his son, and ever since he left his family Sanji worked on the cruise ship and didn't really experience hunger either.
The Razor Blade scene: Character assassination, a joke, or something else?
I've been seeing people discuss two small scenes connected to each other post Fishman Island and in Punk Hazard, the first where the two are bickering and they say this:
And a scene in Punk Hazard where Sanji packed lunches for Luffy, Zoro, Robin, and Usopp and Zoro is making "crunching" noises in the panel, and Oda reveals in an SBS that Sanji did actually put razor blades and poison in Zoro's food:
I have seen claims of character assassination in this scene for Sanji, considering his position on food being something everyone has a right to and his refusal in Whole Cake Island to put poison in the cake they plan to give to Big Mom:
I understand that comparing the two scenes, it does look like Sanji is abandoning his ideals just to get back at Zoro in their fight. But we need to look at both what Oda is saying in the SBS and also Zoro and Sanji's relationship to understand this scene, and why I don't believe this breaks Sanji's character or his ideals.
In the SBS, Oda ends the answer with "The serious nature of their fight is what makes it interesting." Going back one panel and seeing what triggered this fight:
It was Zoro being a lil shit and calling Sanji "Nosebleed-kun." That's to say, this fight is no more serious than their usual bickering, and Oda is making fun of that. Ultimately, this scene and the lunchboxes is a running joke, so that is one thing to keep in mind is that the scene, and Sanji by extension, is not serious about this fight. Of course, jokes are not immune to committing mischaracterization, so we have to look at their relationship too to make sense of it fully.
So why did Sanji actually put poison and razor blades in Zoro's food if he believes that poison shouldn't be used in food? I think at the end of the day, we have to remember that Sanji would never hurt anyone through food, especially the ones he cares about. And he does care about Zoro, it is shown time and time again that they watch out for and care for each other, from Long Ring Long Land, to Thriller Bark and Saoboady, and in Wano. My point is that Sanji knows that Zoro is a freak of nature and wouldn't actually be hurt by the razor blades or the poison, and that he would finish the food.
Zoro actually eats the damn food and literally says nothing about it, Oda didn't even think people would catch this it was such a small detail, but it's one I really like. One because, honestly, it is a funny joke to me, but also it shows a level of trust and understanding of each other? Sanji knows that Zoro is such a brute that he can just fucking. Chomp on metal (which. you know he does on the regular anyways LMAO) and have a little bit of poison go through him and he's literally fine. This is no worse to me than Sanji kicking him. And Zoro just accepting what he's been given, literally no complaints, and he finishes the food and doesn't waste it, because he DOES respect what Sanji does for him and the crew on a daily basis.
Ultimately, the difference in this scene and in Whole Cake Island is that Sanji KNOWS that he isn't actually gonna hurt Zoro by pulling this on him, hes looking to call Zoro on his taunt and be an annoying brat back to him. Bege is seriously asking him to kill Big Mom through the food that he makes, something that's on a completely different level then him pulling a prank on Zoro. The razor blade joke no different in this scene as well in Wano:
I don't think this is out of character for Sanji, it is their usual pettiness on full display, but also serves as a nice small detail into how they understand and trust each other.
#one piece#sanji#zoro#zosan#reblogs#Zoro and Sanji are hilarious#personally I think it was an assassination joke#and also to underline how dumb Zoro can be pfff#I love when Oda puts hidden jokes like that actually#the same way he did with Law giving Strawhats their nicknames#but that one has more layers ffs#finding those jokes is like finding gems fr fr
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Rewarding revenge
🎂: epic the musical
🧁: Hermes
🍫:Odysseus
Summary: Hermes has tickled Odysseus one too many times for his liking. Time for a little payback.
A/N; thank you to the anon who gave me this idea! If you see this I hope it’s to your liking! I’m not super proud of the ending but whatever. Also, yay, more shameless lee Hermes! Enjoooyyy :3
Cw: mild swearing, really intense tickles! (But don’t worry, he enjoys every second of it.)
Rewarding revenge
It was another day on the ship, and Odysseus was thinking.
He had just had another interaction with Hermes a few days prior, and like he usually did, Hermes had decided to tickle the shit out of him.
While he didn’t.. hate it.. it was still annoying, and he wanted a bit of revenge.
So, he sent up a hopefully non-conspicuous prayer to summon Hermes.
When Hermes got the message, simply asking to hang out, he was definitely suspicious, but also amused and endlessly curious. So, he decided to go. Might be fun, after all! And Hermes is always up for some fun.
So, later that evening, when Odysseus was spending some time in his room, Hermes appeared.
“Hey, friend! I got your little prayer!”
Odysseus was honestly a little shocked that worked. He sat up in his bed, gently patting the space next to him.
“Ah, Hermes! Come, sit!”
Hermes smiled brightly and sat next to the soldier. “Well, how do you do?”
“Ah, I’m well. You?”
“I’m good as well! I must say, it’s not often I get a request just to hang out! I’m quite delighted you wished to spend time with me!”
Odysseus chuckled a bit. “Ah, well, you’ve been nice to me, and you’re pleasant enough company.”
“I know I am, thanks for noticing!” Hermes winked, playfully posing in a showy manner.
Odysseus laughed. He had summoned Hermes for ulterior motives, but he actually was quite funny.
He scooted a little closer, hoping Hermes wouldn’t notice. Hermes did notice, but he pretended he didn’t. He was curious! Wanted to see where this was going.
“So, what did you want to talk about, friend?” Hermes asked, still grinning.
“Ah, nothing in particular. Just whatever comes to mind.”
“I see, just a causal chat! Always love one of those- I’m quite the conversationalist!”
The joking remark got another laugh out of Odysseus, which caused Hermes to grin proudly. He was always happy to make someone laugh.
“That you are.” Odysseus got a little closer again.
“did you have free time to come down here? Or are you skipping out on your duties?” Ody asked, a playfully teasing tone to his voice.
“Hmm, not telling~” Hermes shrugged and then sing-songed in response.
Odysseus laughed again. “So you are skipping out? I mean, I imagine you’re quite the busy god, with all the various domains you have.”
“True! But I’m also quite speedy, don’t you forget! Nah, I had some time.” Hermes revealed with a laugh if his own.
“Ah, well that’s good. Wouldn’t want to distract you from your job, now would we?”
“That we would not.” Hermes laughed again, his little squeaky giggle.
Odysseus posed a question, seemingly out of nowhere. “So, Hermes- do you like to laugh?”
Hermes seemed a little surprised at the sudden question, but answered nonetheless. He had a feeling this might be why he was actually summoned.
“Why, of course I do! Who doesn’t?”
“Ah, that’s good. Let me help you with that!” Without any further warning, the captain snapped his arms around the god and started to scribble against his ribs.
Hermes immediately bursted into happy giggles, not trying to hold back in the least.
“Ehehehe- Ohohody! Ahahaha!” He called a bit, squirming slightly.
“What’s wrong? Can’t take what you dish out?”
“Ehehehehehaha! Ohoho, thahat tihihickles! Ehehehe!” Hermes giggles were bubbly and almost childish in nature, such a purely joyful sound that it made Odysseus laugh along with it.
“Ha! It’s about time I got a little payback!”
Hermes could easily get out of this. Easily. He was very powerful, after all. But he didn’t want to, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. But. He wanted to see if Ody could figure it out on his own.
“So, how’s it feel to be on the other end, huh?”
“Tihihickly!” Hermes snarked, an obvious statement, for amusement. It worked as intended, getting a small amused huff from Odysseus.
“Well no shit, Sherlock. That’s the point.”
To accentuate his words, Odysseus moved his hands to Hermes’ tummy, starting to press lightly on the surface.
Hermes giggles immediately increased in pitch, such a joyful, silly, sugar-sweet sound that Odysseus couldn’t help but laugh along. 
“Eeehahahahaha ohoho nohoho, dohohont doho thahat- ehehehehehe!”
“You know, you could probably escape easily if you really wanted to.” Odysseus commented, successfully realizing the thing Hermes wasn’t even trying to hide.
“Ihihi knohow! Ehehehehe!”
“So, why aren’t you? Do you perhaps like this?”
Hermes nodded, gleeful and giddy as he laughed. “Yehehehehes! Ehehahahahaha-! Tohook yohou lohong ehenohough toho fihigure ohout!” Hermes teased slightly, never one to hold his tongue.
“Oh, really? Are you in any position to give me sass?” Odysseus teased, getting far more into the role now that he knew his friend was enjoying it. He pressed down harder, vibrating clawed hands into Hermes’ stomach.
Hermes squealed, a bouncy, bubbly laugh falling freely from his chest. “Eeee! Ahahahaha thahahat reheheally tihihickles ehehehehehe!”
“Good. Maybe that’ll teach you not to sass me.” Odysseus didn’t let up, still pressing vibrating claws into the god’s belly, making him laugh giddily, his wings flapping slightly.
Odysseus’ eyes followed the motion of the white feathers, and he smirked. He took one hand and moved it up, grabbing one of the wings behind his ears and starting to rub the feathers in between his fingers.
Hermes squealed, a high pitched laugh leaving him. “EEEE! NOHOHOHO-! NOHOHOT THEHE WIHINGS!”
“Oh? Not the wings? Not these little wings right here?” Seeing how horribly it tickled the god, Odysseus brought up his other hand to grab the matching wing in the other side and do the same thing.
Hermes was completely lost to his laughter, chest and stomach shaking from the force of it as small tears formed in his eyes. That tickled so! Bad!
“EEEHAHAHA PLEHEHEASE, OHOHODYYY!” His laughter was squeaky and happy, and Odysseus found that it got more and more contagious the longer it went on, not being able to stop himself from laughing along.
“Hehe, that’s a pretty contagious laugh you’ve got there.”
Hermes was too busy laughing and squirming to reply, his sanity starting to slip in the best way from the ticklish sensation. It was driving him mad, unrelenting tingles racing across his wings and causing fluttering laughter to swarm in his belly.
“What’s wrong? Too ticklish to speak?” Odysseus emphasized the word with a teasing lilt, causing a slight blush to form on Hermes’ face.
The room was filled with the happy, bubbly giggles of the god of messages, squealing laughter echoing from him as his very sensitive wings were assaulted with happy, tingly sensations.
“EEE OHODY PLEHEHEHEASEE!” He begged through his loud, squeaky laughter, only partially true. Because he could probably get away if he really wanted to, although it might be harder considering how weak he was from laughter.
Odysseus just chuckled. “Tickle tickle tickle~” he spoke with a teasing lilt, and he could swear that Hermes squeaked at the words.
Hermes was overwhelmed but at the same time so happy. The tickles were driving him crazy and he didn’t even care, because it was so much fun, sending waves of pure joy through him with every wheezing laugh, every contraction of the muscles in his tummy and sides. Tears of joy had fallen at the point, trailing past the shaded boundary from his helmet.
“EEHAHAHA OHODY PLEHEHEASE STAHAHAP! EHEHEHEHEE!”
“I don’t know.. you tickled me first. Twice.”
“IHIM SOHORRRYYY PLEHEHEHEASEE!”
He was absolutely hysterical with laughter, face starting to hurt from being stretched into such a wide smile for so long. His thoughts were so foggy, his brain thoroughly turned to mush from happiness that he couldn’t even think straight enough to use his powers to get away. He loved it so much but at the same time he couldn’t take anymore!
Sensing that Hermes was getting a little overwhelmed, Odysseus decided to give him a small breather, just lightly tapping against his hips to keep him giggling.
Hermes took the chance to greedily take in air, letting his warm face cool down.
“Hehehehehe.. ohoho myhy gohods.. ehehehe- thahat wahahas aha lohot.”
“Oh, did you think we were done? Oh no no no, I don’t plan on stopping any time soon. I want you to be an absolute puddle of laughter by the time I’m through.”
Hermes eyes sparkled with excitement, hidden by the shade of his helmet, a few giddy giggles falling from him. He was honestly excited by the idea, even though he had just been wrecked within an inch of his life, he still wanted more.
Ody smirked as he saw the excitement ripple through the god of speed. “Oh, what was that~? Did that excite you?”
Hermes nodded, still unashamed for his love of being tickled.
Odysseus chuckled in response, before responding with a teasing lilt that caused more giddy butterflies to flutter within Hermes, making him giggle more than he already was from the light taps on his hips.
“Any last words before I make you hysterical again~?”
Hermes thought for a moment, before shaking his head, eager to get on with it.
Odysseus nodded and then started with kneading his tummy, making him burst into giddy laughter immediately.
“Ahahahahahaha! YohOU ahahare reheheally gohood ahat thahahat- EE!” He complained and complimented at the same time, half protesting but not really meaning a word of it.
“Oh, why thank you!” He grinned smugly, and then, just to be evil, he moved his hands to attack Hermes’ underarms and started to blow raspberries all over his belly.
“OHOHO NOHO- EEE! Dohohont dohoho THahahAT-!”
Odysseus felt his inner father emerging, putting on a sort of playful act and making silly noises as he blew raspberry after raspberry onto the messenger’s tummy, using his beard to add an extra layer of ticklishness.
“Omnomnom! This belly is really tasty!” He made little growling and nomming sounds, which made Hermes laugh even harder from amusement at the silly act.
Hermes was absolutely hysterical with laughter, kicking his feet slightly to try and expel the intense giddy energy rippling through him. Each raspberry sent waves of laughter and tingles across his belly, and it didn’t go away. It lingered, and then layered with each new raspberry or nibble, growing more and more ticklish as time went on. Hermes was crying with laughter and happiness, the feeling so intense and so amazing.
He squeaked and squealed as Odysseus blew a raspberry on his lower tummy, then on each side, then right over his bellybutton, then on his ribs, all over his torso, leaving waves upon waves of giddy tingles.
“AHahahahahHEHA! Ihihit tihihickles sohoho BaHAD EhehehehEHEHAHA!” His chest and stomach were shaking and bouncing from his laughter, the wide, giddy smile never leaving his face, his genuine happiness being contagious to Odysseus.
Odysseus chuckled as well, unable to stop himself at hearing the silly, contagious sound of Hermes’ laughter. He decided to lower the intensity for a bit, moving his hands down to start scribbling behind his knees.
Hermes kicked slightly on instinct, but he didn’t try to truly escape. His hysterical, squeaky laughter died down to giggles again, allowing him to take in air.
“Ehehehehe ohoho myhyhy! Ehehe- ihihi cahahant breheheathe- hoholy moholy..” Hermes breathed out through his giggles, taking in breaths and still feeling so giddy.
Odysseus gave him a chance to breathe for a moment, wiggling his fingers behind his knees and tracing around his ankles, before managing to pry his sandals away from his feet slightly, and scratching gently at the soles.
Hermes giggles increased, not nearly as hysterical as it was earlier, but definitely more than it was from the more gentle tracing.
“EhHahHaha ohohohody plehehehease! Ehehehehe!”
“Oh, come on. We both know you don’t actually want me to stop.”
Hermes nodded again. He really didn’t. He protested, yes, but he didn’t mean any of it. It was only instinct, the natural reaction to such intense tickles, even though he enjoyed every second.
After a few more moments, Ody smirked and turned to look at Hermes, speaking with a teasing, taunting tone.
“I’m gonna get your wings~” he sing-songed, scratching at the edge of his ankle, right before where the wings met.
Hermes frantically protested, a giddy nervousness filling his chest and stomach. “Nonononohoho!”
“Yes yes yes~ these soft, little wings are gonna get tickled~”
A faint blush dusted Hermes’ face at the teasing words, so many butterflies and zaps of giddy, nervous excitement rushing through him as the anticipation drove him up the wall.
“Are you ready~”
“Nohoho!” Hermes protested again, even though he would much rather the soldier get it over with rather than deal with this anticipation.
Odysseus smirked again, responding instantly and with a faux lack of sympathy. “Too bad.”
Without any pause, he grabbed each wing on one leg and started to scribble against the feathers, scratching at the base of the wings.
Hermes was once again immediately thrown into heavy , hysterical laughter. “EEHAHAHA! OHOHO MYHYHY GOHODS- NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE! EEEE!”
Odysseus chuckled again, the contagious laughter fully infecting him. “Oh my, quite ticklish here, are we~?”
Hermes blushed a bit more at the teasing, the fluster only adding to the ticklish experience, if you asked him.
His free wings on the other ankle flapped frantically, drawing the king’s attention.
“Well, would you look at that. It seems like your left set of wings is feeling a little left out.”
“NohOhOHO-! PLEHEHEHEASE!”
“Please tickle your other wings? Why of course!” He taunted, switching sides.
He once again pinched and rubbed the feathers in between his fingers, making Hermes toss his head back as fits of laughter racked his whole body.
He got such an evil thought just then, leaning to one of the wings being his ears and blowing a huge raspberry right on it.
Hermes squealed with laughter once again, absolutely hysterical as mirthful tears dampened his face.
“NOHOHO- EEEEEHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHI CAHAHANT HOHOLY MOHOLY-EEHAHAHAHA!”
Hermes was in absolute ticklish agony, his whole torso quivering with the force of his hysterical laughter from the blissful torture. It was absolutely horrible and yet he loved it so much, rushes of euphoria filling him with every laugh, every raspberry on his wings, every overwhelming ticklish touch.
After only a minute or so of that, Odysseus stopped completely with a final wiggle in his bellybutton, leaving Hermes gasping for air in between fits of residual giggles.
He wiped his eyes under his helmet from the tears of laughter, his face still split in two from his wide smile.
“Ahahahaha.. wohohoah.. yohou’re reheheally gohood ahahat thahahat… ehehehehe…”
Odysseus chuckled a bit. “Yeah, I really did a number on you, didn’t I?”
Hermes nodded, still giggling and trying to cool his breathing and blushing face.
“Are you alright? I didn’t go too far, did I?”
Hermes shook his head slightly. “No, Noho, yohou’re ahalrihihight. That was greheheat.”
“Man, you really like being tickled, don’t you?”
“Yeheheah! It’s fun to laugh like thahat.. ehehehe.”
“Well, I’m glad to have provided that for you.”
“Thahank yohou, daharling.”
“No problem!”
After another minute or so, Hermes finally stopped giggling, and dusted himself off before standing.
“Well, I best be off. I do have a job to do! But don’t be afraid to send a message whenever you want to hang! This was splendid!”
Odysseus chuckled a bit. “And you dont be afraid to come down and ask me for tickles anytime you want.”
Hermes giggled a bit in response. “I’ll keep that in mind. Ta-ta darling!~”
“See ya round!”
And with that, Hermes flew off, leaving with a light heart and a wide smile.
———THE END———————————————————-
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Obviously you aren’t lvl 5 and don’t know everything but I thought this would be the best place to get clarification-
Do you think edits are allowed? Or compilatiosn that aren’t full cutscenes/compilations with gameplay as well?
Hi there! Thanks for the question, I will do my best to answer it, although I have to add that yes, I'm not L-5, and I have now law knowledge whatsoever.
If someone knows more details about law stuff (looking at you, Ace attorney fans that got into law school), please feel free to add/correct this post!
Note: The guideline is published in Japanese but I'm asuming that they can legally reach outside of Japan through Youtube, Tiktok and such.
I think the main spirit behind this thing is "Please don't make things that could be confused for official stuff".
Gameplay seems to be okay in all its forms, as long as it's clear that it's gameplay, that you're a fan playing a game you have. To that effect they also ask that you credit L-5 with the rights in the description section in the following format:
CV: ©2007 LEVEL-5 Inc.
PB/DB: ©2007 LEVEL-5 Inc.
LF/UF: ©2008 LEVEL-5 Inc.
LS/SC: ©2009 LEVEL-5 Inc.
MM: ©2011 LEVEL-5 Inc.
MM+: ©2011-2013 LEVEL-5 Inc.
AL: ©2013 LEVEL-5 Inc.
LBMR: ©2012-2013 LEVEL-5 Inc.
LMJ: ©2018-2021 LEVEL-5 Inc.
Phone trilogy: ©LEVEL-5 Inc.
PLvsPW: ©2012 LEVEL-5 Inc. ©CAPCOM
Compilation of gameplays should be good, then! 👍
As for other stuff, such as edits, I'd say that as long as it's clear that it's fan made, spoilers are tagged and L-5 is credited, it's should be fine. This old video comes to mind:
youtube
See how the first seconds are not the actual video? It says something along the lines "These characters are from the Layton series, there are slight spoilers up to Azran Legacy, continue only if you're okay with that".
It feel's weirdly 2010s, but I guess that's the way to go now.
Still, it is not like they will come inmideately for us all. I doubt they know Tumblr exists, for starters. As for Youtube and other places, short fan edits and gameplays and the likes might be good with those "I'm a fan, not L-5 and this has spoilers" disclaimers.
And I'm not really familiar with how Youtube works, but I'd say even if you have music videos or silent gameplays in Youtube the worst thing that can happen is for you to recieve a notification like "please take down this video". And then you do that and that would be sorted.
So the final message is:
Do not panic
Maybe add disclaimers and copyright thingies to future Layton videos
When/if you recieve a takedown/copyright notice, act. (And maybe share with the class so we can know when/if they are taking down videos, and which ones).
For now behave like your favourite cutscenes compilations or music videos might be taken down soon.
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Hi Rose! #5 please 💜
hi dalawa!! thank you for sending!
#5: help
-
Tommy tries knocking again.
But Eddie still doesn't answer.
"Eddie! Open up or I'm calling 911!"
"What's going on?"
Tommy jumps at the sound of Evan's voice directly behind him.
"Jesus," Tommy says. "Where the hell did you come from?"
Evan raises a bemused eyebrow. "Did you not hear me pull into the driveway?"
Tommy looks over Evan's shoulder, and, sure enough, Evan's jeep is parked right next to Tommy's truck. How he didn't hear it is anyone's guess, but he will solely blame Eddie for making him worry by not answering the front door.
"Uh, no, I guess I didn't hear you," Tommy says.
"Clearly," Evan replies. Evan's clearly laughing at Tommy and he would be annoyed by it but it's better ground he's been on with Evan lately, so he'll take it.
"So, what are you doing here?" Evan asks. "And why were you yelling?"
"Eddie texted me, said to come by his house as soon as I could because he needed my help. Put an SOS and everything, which is why I was yelling. He's not answering the door."
"Huh," Evan says, which is odd, considering Tommy just said Eddie might be in trouble.
"What?"
Evan sighs, and starts heading back to his Jeep. "Hey, since you're here, can you help me with unloading these?"
Confused, Tommy follows Evan. When he makes it to the trunk of Evan's Jeep, he's even more confused.
"Buck, what's going on?"
"Well, Tommy, it appears Eddie's trying to parent trap us. Here." Evan shoves a sack of garden mulch in his arms. Before Tommy can protest, Evan stacks another one on top with a little too much force.
Tommy's a big guy, so they're not really a bother, but Evan's clearly pissed, so Tommy's not gonna complain.
"And what makes you think that?" he asks as Evan pulls out another bag of mulch, but keeps it for himself.
"Eddie's not here, Tommy. He's in Texas. You didn't know that?"
Evan closes the trunk of his Jeep and starts heading to the side of the house, toward the backyard. Tommy follows again.
"No, I ... I didn't know that," he admits, and wonders how much else he missed by ignoring everyone in the wake of his breakup with Evan.
They make it to Eddie's backyard and Tommy throws the mulch down near a garden bed that Evan points to. There's a bunch of tools already laid out, and varying flowers already planted in the soil.
Evan doesn't reply to Tommy's admittance but he does roll his eyes, then bends down to start opening the mulch.
Considering they've been here for a little bit and no one's come out to yell at them, Tommy guesses Evan's right about Eddie not being here. Texas, he said? Eddie must have gone for Christopher. Feels like he should have known that. Then again, he ignored every one of Eddie's calls.
He should probably leave. It's clear he's not actually needed here, and Evan seems angry enough as it is. Except —
"So what are you doing here, exactly?" he asks.
Evan's started laying out the mulch in the garden bed, spreading it evenly across the ground. At Tommy's question, he looks up, hands on his hips. Tommy had been too worried about Eddie when Evan first showed up to really look but now that Evan's standing there looking at Tommy with a mixture of disdain and bemusement on his face, sweaty from whatever yard work he's already done, he sees it now. Evan looks good. Really good. Tries not to think about Evan keeping in shape, either by the gym or other ... activities.
"What does it look like I'm doing, Tommy?" Evan gestures to the entire garden bed like Tommy's not standing directly in front of it. To be fair, Tommy really only has eyes for Evan.
When Tommy shrugs his shoulders, Evan sighs again. "Eddie asked me to water his plants while he was gone."
"And that turned into you planting an entire garden back here?"
Evan glares at him from where's spreading the mulch around.
Tommy smirks. He recognizes that glare as the face Evan makes when he's trying really hard to be mad at Tommy but is losing the fight.
"If you're done making fun of me," Evan says, "I could use your help."
Tommy's not sure how long Eddie's been gone, but he and Evan obviously still talk. If Eddie sent Tommy here to have a run-in with Evan, then that has to mean something, right? He should probably call Eddie back, soon. To apologize. And say thank you.
He glances over at the flowers Evan's already planted. They don't fill the entire garden bed. There's room for more. Pictures what this garden will look like in a couple months time, when summer arrives. If they keep at it, it could be full of a variety of plants, of all shapes and colors by then.
Tommy picks up the other bag of mulch and drags it to the other side of the garden bed. Evan watches him, not giving anything away about what type of answer he's looking for.
"Sure," Tommy says. "I'll help. I'll cover this side and then we use the other one to layer on top of what's already on the ground?"
Evan gives a reluctant smile, and goes back to work.
-
Send me a number for a prompt!
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Touchstarved LIs as Study Buddies
Because when I was studying for my macroeconomics final the only way I survived was imagining a rotating cast of blorbos helping me out (I got a 70% btw)
Recommended Listening: Zelda & Chill Trilogy
TW/CWs: Potential Accidental Canon Deviancy, not proofread.
Can be read as romantic or platonic, whatever floats your boat! Likes and reblogs appreciated!
Special thanks to @asexual-abomination for helping with Lea and Mhin <3
🕊️ Kuras
You two will study and do nothing else.
Okay, not exactly, but it’s 90% study with a couple mental breaks tossed in to keep your mind sharp.
And you can bet your ass he’s making sure you’re drinking water and getting some good brain food in you (good luck with his cooking lol)
He’s not big on the idea of pulling all-nighters, but if it’s a necessity (say, you’re cramming,) he’ll turn into something of a spotter, making sure that you stay sane and make the most of the time you have before you eventually conk out.
Has anyone here seen Elementary? There’s a scene early in the series where Watson helps Sherlock stay awake by showing him how to do squats to get his blood pumping. Kuras does the same.
Also he’s making flashcards! Unironically I think this is a highlight for him.
His Best Subject is obviously any kind of Biological Science, but I think he’s also really good for History.
🪄 Leander
He’s good at studying on his own, but the second he’s in a Buddy System he just starts doing. The Most.
I’m talking like an hour and a half at least of set up where he’s getting drinks and snacks and a nest of pillows and blankets set up so your backs don’t get sore hunched over a table.
Lowkey I think he’s trying to be The Study Buddy Ever for you, but he doesn’t quite clock that all the prep work is eating into your study time and while that can be okay if the test isn’t pressing, if you’re cramming it’s a problem.
Once he’s settled though, he’s actually really helpful.
Very “there’s no stupid questions!” about it all, and will work with you to make sure you’ve got it all down.
Every magician worth his salt knows how to study, damnit, he’s just a social himbo.
His best subjects I think are Psychology and Social Studies. He’s a People Person.
🦊 Vere
He’s either not helping even a little bit by not showing up or not helping even a little bit by being a distraction.
He is bored off his ass almost the entire time, and he will make it your problem by just going on the most random of tangents after he’s done complaining.
And failing that, he’ll just go take a big nap somewhere.
He just curls right up and goes to snoozeville for like an hour before waking up and going “you’re STILL at it???”
If you want him to engage with you—or even just stick around, really—you’re going to have to bribe him in some way or another.
Of course he asks for the most out of pocket shit but tbh I think if you’ve got good snacks and something cozy he’ll just take it as a break.
Generally though he’s very much just doing his own thing while you study, it’s barely beneficial to either of you.
Except sometimes you talk at him while he draws you mayhaps…
It’s canon that he’s really artistically talented so I think his Best Subjects are Art and Literature. Those are the two things you have any hope of getting help from him on.
⛩️ Ais
Ais also takes some convincing to come around and help, tbh—
He doesn’t strike me as a guy that really studies, not just because of his personality but because he’s literally part of a Hivemind I’m pretty certain he can just ping for information if he really needs it.
But once he’s gotten settled he’s actually a surprisingly good rubber duck, letting you talk at him about theory and formula while he pokes around your space.
Like Vere, I think he naps if he’s not directly involved but he a) usually gives a head’s up but b) ends up snoring really loud which makes studying a nightmare.
Sometimes he’ll actually pay attention—maybe even leaning over the back of your chair to read over your shoulder sometimes—and you find out he’s really good at actually taking a look at a concept and Getting It really fast.
Just… don’t ask him to explain it to you.
That’s a different skill set that I don’t think he quite has off the bat.
Surprisingly maybe I think his Best Subject is Math/Arithmetic. There’s just something about how cut and dry the formulas are that make it click for him really well. Also lowkey good at Biology, specifically the behavioral side of Animal Biology.
🪡 Mhin
Good Fucking Luck
Genuinely, I don’t think Mhin has either the patience or the social bandwidth to be a decent study partner.
The best you’re getting out of them is someone who’s leading by example.
Mhin will get their own book, sit next to you, and read. And if you make any kind of noise or significant disturbance, they’ll grumble or nudge your chair to tell you to be quiet.
You can ask them to help with review questions if you want, but I think unless it’s something they already know, don’t expect any type of feedback outside of eye contact.
If it’s a regular thing and you get the chance to get used to each other, they might occasionally mention stuff in their own reading that they find interesting/you might find interesting, but generally it’s few and far between.
Just because they’re not really helping doesn’t mean they want to be a distraction, unlike some…
Like Kuras, I think Mhin is really good at Science, specifically Anatomy, but they also have a bit of a soft spot for Poetry and Strategy.
#I wrote half of this and then tumblr ate my draft#and I got so mad—#but I think the rewrite is actually better in some places#something something first draft is usually never the best#Rosie Writes#Touchstarved#Touchstarved Game#Kuras#Leander#Vere#Ais#Mhin#Headcanons#Touchstarved Headcanons#Rosie CC
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Saying this in best way possible.
I envy on how you can convey everything wonderfully with only sketches yet it feels like a finished piece. I envy you not because I think my art is bad but more because of my perfectionist mind forced me to fleshed everything out before it deemed "post worthy" one day I want to improve and be more confident with my sketch just like you so I won't physically strain myself by making everything I made as polished as possible.
This might come as me also venting, (but!) this ask made me.... think.
Believe it or not, anon, what you envied of me is actually one of the biggest insecurities i have as an artist. I really think I should have put more effort to finish my works, but it just feel off whenever I did :")
Anyways!
It's totally alright to take time for your art! But if you do want to try to be confident with your sketch more, I'd suggest......to think that nobody cares.
This.... might be a bad advice and a bad way to see your own artworks, but these are what I kept telling myself:
Nobody would care if I had/hadn't finish or perfect this. Nobody will point it out anyway. No one ever did.
To me this looks clear enough. Readable enough. If my dumbass brain can understand it, so can everyone else.
Does this sketch sets the mood/feeling/intensity enough? If it doesnt then its time to rely on splashing some colors
If they like this messy excuse of an art then good for them and if not? Well at least my thoughts are already put OUT there and not kept locked inside. Like breathing a fresh air.
And thats that. I hope you can feel more comfortable with your sketches soon🫶 OH and thank you, anon🥹💖
Sad thoughts/vent part below cut. Not necessarily connected to answer anon!! (just me pouring my own feelings/thoughts out!)
I... really enjoy just putting out my thoughts emotions and ideas via my sketches but at the same time, it kept made me question myself if I—as an artist—was ever worth all this attention when I couldn't even deliver something "finished." Hells, even when I did a finished, rendered art, it never made an impression as close to equal sd my "stupid doodles" does.
I feel like i perform and deliver better using rough sketches because I love to emphasize the rawness of gestures and emotions that raw sketches provide. But nobody around me thinks so. Because it's like im not done yet.
I didn't know my place. Nobody around me (in my local indo artist communities) preferred my works because there's always someone out there with a more polished & pretty art. Mine is... just never seem to look finished. I always look like i... underperformed.
So what Im trying to say is. Maybe we have our own strengths and weaknesses. Whats important is that we find out own comfortable paces and methods. And that is still a long heck of an artist journey that i myself still need to discover.
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I’m hoping you can answer a question for me. I need a Jason Todd expert, and you seem like one.
I’ve seen two big posts recently. One argued that Jason and Tim can’t stand each other, don’t trust each other, and can barely work together (if at all). The other says that in the new canon, Jason and Tim are basically best friends, and Tim is Jason’s favourite sibling. Both posts cited a bunch of different runs and authors/artists, and called the other side misinformed.
So, I ask you: what is the actual relationship between Jason Todd and Tim Drake? Are they close friends and brothers, friendly/neutral acquaintances, or enemies?
I hope you can answer me, or if not point me in the direction of somebody who can. Thanks!
Hey! I wouldn't call myself the Jason expert (that's @glitter-stained ) but I'm currently writing a fic about the relationship between these two so I feel like I can explain the two conflicting versions.
The most important take away is: people are really unhappy with current canon for a variety of reasons, one of the most notable ones being Jason's writing in general (RHATO specifically). This means canon has lost a lot of power after New 52 because characters act, well, out of character and fans point out how it doesn't make sense.
As for canon: yes, they are good siblings that get along pretty well with varying degrees of sassiness depending on the run. This happens after Jason "makes amends" with the family at some undisclosed time in new 52. This new canon is way more wholesome and it shows the members of the family getting along way better than their pre-New 52 counterparts ever did. My favorite comic depicting this good relationship is Knight Terrors: Robin, but the most canon option is RHATO (which has plenty of moments between the two) as pictured below or even Chip Zdarsky's Batman run where everyone gets along pretty well.
So, it's canon right? Yes, but what is canon if fans don't accept it? The first thing I said is how people are dissatisfied with New 52 and RHATO specifically, which happen to be where the examples of these two getting along come from. I'm not going to get into why they think Jason or Tim are out of character cause that's its own post, but in the relationship between them it's pretty easy to point out: it's just not earned.
Tim and Jason have genuine gripes with one another and opposing morals most times. We don't get to see a moment where post Red Robin, Tim decides maybe sometimes killing is the answer, even if not for him. We don't get to see him learn that Jason wasn't an idiot disobeying Batman and that he was tricked by his mother. Jason doesn't know about Tim's 16th birthday and thus assumes that he just blindly idolizes Batman. He thinks his Robin run was just like his own and doesn't understand just how much shit Bruce put him through, thus assuming he's a bit spoiled.
Fans don't think either of these characters could just turn around and suddenly start liking each other the second Jason gets admitted into the family (something that also happens without much of an actual explanation?? At least not a satisfying one). It's not even that they necessarily have a personal vendetta (at least not Jason, and Tim is a very forgiving character), so it's not something out of the picture. A lot of their problems with each other stem from Bruce and his teachings and the language around Jason after his death.
In conclusion: it's not like the characters can't overcome their differences and come to find friendship or siblinghood in one another, it's more so that it requires more development. This has always been DC's weakest point, relationships and characters changing suddenly to suit a new direction disregarding their actual personality and values. So, it is canon, but a lot of people argue it shouldn't count if characters don't behave like themselves. There's a dissonance between the original characters and their current iterations that has not been bridged with character development.
But by all means, it is actually canon! People just have genuine gripes with how current canon disregards the previous canon. It's like getting attached to a character but suddenly it becomes this unrecognizable caricature that has barely anything to do with the OG but you're meant to acknowledge it as the same person. So, yeah, fans aren't happy, but I guess everyone gets along now.
Again, not a lore expert, but I hope I could explain why you could find two post with plenty of evidence arguing for opposing points.
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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 116 (Volunteering As a Family)
After Ash's run-in with his cousin Michael, Heather and Conrad looked for a way to teach him some much-needed empathy. Heather made a plan with her good friend, Dylan Richards, which would bring them to San Myshuno to help at a shelter where Dylan had volunteered for years. But first, Conrad made breakfast while Lavender watched him intently with a bowl of cereal.
Heather found her sister doing laundry. "You sure you don't mind spending the day with Lavender while we're in the city?"
"Of course not! We're gonna play in the snow for a bit and then we're going over to the Goths to spend the afternoon. I really need to catch up with Lydia, and Lava can hang with little Jag."
"Just make sure to watch her around Obsidian. She gets so excited around animals, and a crow won't appreciate her squeeze hugs." The dryer beeped beside them. "Thanks for doing laundry, but I really don't want you feeling like a maid or a babysitter. How's the job search coming?"
"Great, actually! Conrad told Alexander I could help with research and analysis for his charity campaigns, so we're going to work out a schedule this afternoon. I'll probably start next week."
"That's great, Hazel, but Brindleton Bay doesn't even have a mayor. I already adopted him! Come to think of it, I don't even know who keeps the power on in this town."
She assumed the answer her own question as soon as she voiced it. George Brindleton, most likely.
"Alex thinks he could be the first real mayor Brindleton Bay's had in decades."
Heather smiled. She didn't like thinking of their friend Alex tangling with George Brindleton. If the town had no real mayor, he probably wanted it that way, but she didn't want to sound unsupportive. "Mayor Alex Goth has a nice ring to it!"
Heather, Ash, and Conrad left Lavender and Hazel playing in the snow with Gord. When they made it to the Spice District, they met up with Dylan and her daughter, Pearl, outside the graffiti-covered Soup Kitchen. As Henford-on-Bagley's grocery deliverer in her teens, Dylan had witnessed food insecurity firsthand, and she wanted to instill a passion for helping others in her own children.
The Soup Kitchen was a welcome place for unhoused sims and volunteers of all ages. A small cafe on the site served the public, with all proceeds going to the shelter. The industrial space was also a place where creativity could run wild - they encouraged their residents to create art to beautify the walls so the place felt less like a converted canning factory and more like a place they could feel at home.
Seven-year-old Ash walked around the main room in awe, where beautifully-painted murals decorated the walls and floors. This was a side of San Myshuno he'd never seen before, nothing like the stark glass and steel of his family's Uptown penthouse a thousand feet up across the bay.
Ash loved the art, but his eyes were drawn to the beds. The room was packed with them - some small enough for Lavender and Bridgette. He was surprised to think a toddler might be unhoused. It's way too cold for Lava and Bridgie to sleep outside, he thought.
Dylan showed them around the cafe, and Ash even helped the baristas deliver food to various patrons. Heather helped serve while Conrad prepared ingredients for the shelter's dinner that evening. "Are you sure you don't want help prepping the cottage pie?"
"I've got this. I thought you were keeping an eye on Ash?"
"He went upstairs with Pearl. I think he might be meeting some of the people who use the shelter. Dylan says there's a kids' room."
Upstairs, Pearl introduced Ash to Zacharius Beard and his mother, Anjali, who had been staying at the shelter since Anjali had left her husband. "Why did you leave?" Ash wondered innocently. "Was he not nice?"
Zacharius shook his head. "Daddy's mean," he insisted. Ash opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Pearl discreetly shook her head behind the Beards.
"Are you watching a movie, Zach?" she cut in.
"I was going to. Did you want to join me? Mom can stay for a bit, but then she has to finish a mural out back by the tents."
"People live in tents here?"
"Fewer sleep outside in the winter, but some don't want to stay inside with kids," explained Anjali. "But they can still come here to eat and shower whenever they need to."
"Do you watch a lot of movies?"
"The movies I like, I watch a lot," Zach said. "But I don't always have someone to watch them with me. There aren't a lot of other kids here right now. Last time Pearl was here she tried to teach me to plié, but I'm not very good at ballet."
"No one's better at ballet than Pearl," said Ash.
"I'm only good for my age. So far," Pearl insisted with a confident smile. "But one day I'll dance Swan Lake with the SanMy Ballet Company."
Anjali smiled. "I have no doubt you will, Miss Pearl. But I hope you'll all excuse me while I get painting."
"Did your mom do all the murals here?" Ash wondered.
"Most were already here, but she's an artist."
"I could do art on my craft table and bring it another time," Ash said thoughtfully. "Or can you do crafts here?"
"If we get enough donated art stuff, we can, but craft supplies get lost, toddlers eat the crayons, and most of the cafe money goes to food and stuff we need, not stuff we like," explained Zach. "We're not allowed to use the mural paint."
Downstairs, Conrad and Heather were chatting in the kitchen while a hearty cottage pie baked in the oven. "It smells incredible, Conrad. What ingredients did you use?"
"I could tell you that, but this recipe is a Gordon family secret. You've got to marry in to get it."
"There's still snow on the ground," she reminded him. "No coats, and no one freezing to death! That is the least I could hope for at our wedding."
He laughed. "Then the secret ingredients stay with me. For now."
"Would Ben know it? Maybe I'll try to ask him with Mrs. Goth's seance table," she teased, and with a sudden hiss, the power inside The Soup Kitchen went out. The lights in the large kitchen went dark, the electric stove stopped baking, and the movie upstairs shut off with a click.
"What happened?" asked Pearl, looking around fearfully and noting every light in the building was out.
"Power outages happen a lot," said Zach. "My mom says the building should have better wiring, but it's too expensive. But sometimes when the power goes out, we don't get warm dinner. Just snacks."
Listening to Zach, Ash stood with conviction. "We don't need the power on to make dinner. I have an idea!" ->
<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary
Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary
ICYMI Cozy Winterfest Xtras: Winterfest With Bella Goth & Happy Holidays from the Nesbitt-Landgraab-Gordon Household
WCIF Soup Kitchen: This phenomenal lot by Fejuna in the Sims 4 Gallery. It's stunning and so detailed and the setting helped me write the story, so thank you a million times to Fejuna, and to every builder who makes my gameplay time so much more fun by sharing such incredible creations.
#sims 4#sims 4 gameplay#sims 4 screenshots#sims 4 legacy#sims in bloom#ts4#ts4 gameplay#ts4 legacy#ts4 screenshots#sims 4 story#ts4 story#legacy challenge#sims legacy#ts4 legacy challenge#gen 2#brindleton bay#san myshuno
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nobody can directly be linked the tweet anymore because viv privated her twitter, but if i remember correctly, when the dire gentlemen made a video on her with the title being the question of, "why did helluva boss fall off so hard?" after exes and oohs dropped, viv made a vague tweet about it. and off the top of my head, she said something along the lines of, "professional writers dont shit on other writers work publicly. professional writers know better," because the dire gentlemen themselves stated that they were professional writers in the video, or maybe because theyre publicly known to be professional writers based on that video where they critique lily orchards writing tips. i even remember someone else responded to that tweet and pointed out that she consistently doesnt take critique well publicly, and she said something in response like, "i can handle critique just fine. i just find it laughable when other professionals do things like this. its funny." it mustve stung for viv, because they used to make videos praising s1 a lot, not realizing it was because of brandon that the writing was as good as it was, and not because of her, if her heavier involvement in s2 is any indication. i mean, they REALLY didnt like the circus, and that was all written by her. anyway, hope someone has a screenshot of this tweet, because i certainly dont! i'll look on chaifootsteps blog for it, but i dont think he has it since people just sent in asks about how immature it was of viv to do that, not with a link to the actual tweet itself to my knowledge.
Don’t worry Anon, I got you. I don’t have Twitter but thank god for Google. (Hopefully it’s the right one). But yeah like I mentioned earlier with DireGentlemen they praised the hell out of Helluva Boss then season 2 came and they understandably got its ass.
#vivziepop critical#vivziepop criticism#anonymous#helluva boss critical#helluva boss criticism#diregentlemen
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