#they would suffocate under the weight of my love for them if i was able to show it better lmao :/ probably good that i can't bc i'd be in

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

it sucks to have no one to talk about the big emotions to because they're either too close to you or too far away... i simply don't know how to cope with real life and i don't know how people do

[p3achfilm]

𝒮𝒰𝒢𝒜𝑅. eren.

𝒞𝒲: nsfw thick! reader, in which you’re insecure so eren eats your pussy against the wall. minors dni. third person.

she detested summer. the oppressive heat that clung to her skin, the relentless buzzing of insects, and the suffocating air made her long for the cool, crisp days of fall. but most of all she hated how she was unable to hide under layers of clothing. "ugh." russet eyes bore into the body length mirror, indifferent to the person that stared back. full lips pulled into a pout as she smoothed her hands over her wide hips, unsatisfied with the way her stomach spilled over the side of the denim. another curse from her lips, fingers looped in the belt holes as she jumped up and down in the jeans. her thighs rubbed together, the fabric stretching to its limits. it was the loosest pair that she owned and they were still snug. the young woman stopped her efforts with a defeated sigh. she had already tried sucking her gut in and jumping time and time again. yet, they would not give. the button was barely able to stay connected, the zipper stuck in one spot. if she sat down in them it would probably take a crowbar to get her back out.

she glanced over at her bed, taking in the discarded piles of jeans and skirts. all of them had the same problem. nothing seemed to fit her. her mother had always told her that her hips would blossom in her twenties, but the woman never imagined that they would bloom this much.

a sudden knock at her bedroom door interrupted her reverie. the girl turned toward the sound, her hand instinctively resting on her abdomen. she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her as her boyfriend entered the room, engrossed in his phone and unaware of her inner turmoil. "hey, i just got off the phone with the guys, and they want to go out tonight. you in?" eren glanced up from his device, and his expression immediately shifted to one of concern. "baby what's wrong?" he asked, his brows knitting together. he quickly closed the distance between them and enveloped her in his arms, drawing her close.

"nothing," she murmured softly, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her words muffled against his skin. "just feeling a bit under the weather, i suppose." while not entirely untrue, her statement concealed the deeper issue troubling her—her self-image. "you suppose? ⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆, what's really going on?" she gently pulled away, his hands still resting on her arms. her brown cheeks flushed, and she found it difficult to meet his gaze. "my clothes . . . don’t fit me."

her sweet boyfriend was silent for a moment, trying to process her words. she could feel his intruding eyes rake over her, taking in her appearance. truth was, eren had noticed weeks ago how plump his girlfriend now was. all the weight had shifted to her breast and her ass, he fucking loved it. she was always beautiful to him but now? god, he had to fight off an erection each time he laid eyes on her. the way her clothes fit, the way she kept him warm at night, the way her thighs felt around his head while she trimmed his hair. it was all so damn intoxicating.

his rough hands moved down her sides, feeling the soft curves that drove him wild. he loved the way her body felt under his touch, the warmth radiating from her skin. "what are you talking about? you look amazin’. you always do," eren states with a laugh, giving her sides a squeeze. she couldn't believe what she was hearing. did he not see the way her pants were practically ripping at the seams? how they dug into her sides and threatened to break her in half if she moved the wrong way? did he not realize how much bigger her stomach had gotten over the past month? the way it jutted out, pushing the material of her shirt to its limits.

"are you blind?" she cried, the frustration she had been feeling all day finally boiling over. "i'm fat, okay? i'm a huge, fat, disgusting blob. my pants are three sizes too small. and you can't tell me they aren't because i can't even get the damn zipper to zip. i'm a whale." tears pooled in her chestnut colored eyes, her bottom lip quivering. god, she felt pathetic. "babe," eren started, his voice calm. he tried to wipe away her tears with his thumbs, but she quickly pushed him away, his touch making her sick.

"don't," she mumbled. "don't even. just- i can't believe you don't see how big i've gotten. and if you do see it, then you're a liar. and if you're lying, that's just a whole other can of worms. god, i just- i'm not in the mood to go out, alright?" with that she stormed past him and disappeared into her bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

the man was left standing in the shared room, bewildered and at a loss for words. he hadn't been expecting the sudden outburst, especially since she had been acting normally all evening. he didn't understand why she was upset. the sound of the sink turning on snapped him out of his thoughts. he shook his head and headed out of the room, his phone forgotten on the floor.

the cool water did little to soothe her heated cheeks. the girl leaned over the sink, her palms pressing against the marble. her hair fell in dark waves around her, curtaining her face. she could feel her heart pounding against her chest, the blood roaring in her ears. why did she get so mad? her boyfriend didn't deserve the way she had treated him. but his ignorance towards her weight gain had only fueled her anger. she hadn't meant to blow up like that, but his words had cut her deeper than she cared to admit.

after a few moments, the girl finally stood up straight, turning the water off. she stared at herself in the mirror, taking in the puffiness of her eyes and the redness of her cheeks. her lash extensions were wet and clumped together, lip-combo faded. with a heavy sigh, the girl picked up her makeup remover, beginning to fix her face. it wasn't eren’s fault that her clothes didn't fit. he wasn't the one who was eating so much, who had gained so much weight. it was her own fault that she was getting bigger and bigger by the day. a quiet knock at the door disrupted her thoughts. "hey bug, can we talk?" his voice was muffled through the wood.

"no." her voice was barely above a whisper.

"what was that?"

"i said no." she raised her voice, her tone clipped.

"baby, come on, i just want to talk to you."

eren was relieved when the door swung open, revealing his puffy-eyed girlfriend. "eren—" she was cut off as his lips pressed against hers, head leaning to the side as his lips messily moved over her fuller ones. "you're fuckin' perfect to me," he murmured, his voice laced with something she couldn't quite pin down. her throat ached as she resisted the urge to cry at her his reassurance.

eren was by no means a weak man, yet it still took her by surprise when he cupped her thick thighs and wrapped them around his lean waist, breaking the kiss. his hands gripped her flesh firmly, the warmth of his touch seeping through her skin and sending shivers down her spine. his tongue prodded her lips, seeking entrance, and she parted them, allowing him to deepen the kiss. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of passion and tenderness that left her breathless. she could feel the strength in his arms as he held her up, his muscles tensing with the effort. his body pressed against hers, the heat between them growing more intense with every passing second.

her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as their kiss grew more fervent. she could taste the desperation in his kiss, the need to convey just how much he adored her. his lips moved with a fervor that made her head spin, and she couldn't help but melt into him, her body responding to his every touch. "you're crazy," she breathed out, her fingers scratching at his scalp. the man hummed against her lips, his tongue tracing her jawline. "maybe, but i know what i like." his teeth scraped her earlobe, pulling the flesh into his mouth. he could feel her thighs squeeze his waist, a soft moan escaping her. his lips trailed down her neck, leaving wet kisses in their wake. she couldn't help but tilt her head to the side, giving him more access. "eren. . .” his name came out in a low groan.

"mm, i know." he rocked his hips forward, pressing his clothed cock against her throbbing cunt.

the girl pulled him into a deeper kiss, her nails digging into his shoulders. eren's hands kneaded her thighs, squeezing and massaging the thick flesh. she let out a whine when his fingertips dug into her inner thigh, dangerously close to where she wanted him the most. "please," she whispered, her voice breathy. he smirked.

"please what?"

"please touch me."

eren chuckled. he pulled away from her lips, his nose brushing against hers. "but i am touching you," he teased, his fingers squeezing her plush thighs once more. "asshole." she snorts. "you know what i want to hear." he coo’s, "fine." the girl rolled her eyes, her face burning in embarrassment. "eren, please eat my pussy. please. i'm so horny. i need your tongue inside me. i want you to make me cum.”

"that wasn't so hard, was it?"

before she could respond, he was already tugging the denim down her legs and throwing them onto the bathroom floor. his fingers hooking into the cherry printed lace of her underwear, pulling them down. he groaned when her cunt was finally exposed, her juices coating her thick lips. "you're so pretty," he murmurs, green eyes glossy.

once again she’d underestimated eren’s strength as he hoisted her up, confusion riddling her soft features. his inked arms, adorned with intricate designs that told stories of battles and victories, settled her thighs on each shoulder, grounding her. eren was gonna eat his loving girlfriends’ pussy aganist the wall. her stomach churned, raw power in his grip contrasting with the tenderness in his eyes, creating a whirlwind of emotions within her. he pressed her against the cool, unforgiving wall, the rough texture a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from his body. she could feel his breath, hot and ragged, against her as he murmured something indecipherable.

her cunt was inches away from his mouth and he could feel his mouth water. his tongue poked out, gliding along her slit. the girl whimpered above him, her fingers threading through his hair. eren's large hands held her thighs in place as he dove his tongue between her folds, slurping up her sweet nectar. her eyes fluttered shut, her back arching against the wall. her clit throbbed as he sucked the sensitive nub between his lips, his tongue lashing over it. her legs quivered, pleasure coursing through her veins. eren moaned, the vibrations sending shockwaves up her spine, her walls fluttering. "shit," she cried, her thighs closing around his head. eren grunted, his fingers digging into her skin.

"don't stop, don't stop, don't stop." her cries were like music to his ears. his tongue worked over her clit, alternating between flicking the tip over it and sucking. her grip tightened further in his hair, the roots straining against her grasp. eren grunted, his eyes squeezing shut. he could feel her legs tense around him, juices flowing into his mouth. his cock was straining against his shorts and he could feel his precum leaking out.

eren," she moaned, her thighs threatening to give out. "please."

"please what?"

"i need more."

"what do you want me to do?"

"fuck, just use your fingers."

eren chuckled.

"use them where?"

"in my pussy. fuck. please."

"good girl."

he gave her clit one last sloppy lewd kiss before pulling his mouth away, one hand holding her. the other taking his tongues place, his pointer and middle finger rubbed circles over the swollen purple nub, his tongue trailing up her slit. she shivered, her head falling back. his fingers slid lower, teasing her hole. he slowly pushed his middle finger in, groaning at the way her walls clenched around him. she was soaked, dripping all over his hand. he couldn't resist burying his face back into her cunt, his tongue dipping in alongside his finger. desperate moans filled the bedroom, her manicured toes curling. eren fucked his finger into her tight pussy, his tongue relentlessly licking her folds.

"oh god," she moaned, her hips rocking against his face. "right there. don't stop, don't stop." her body was on fire. it had been weeks since eren had gone down on her and it was the best feeling in the world right now. a ring of cream built around his digit, a sight that made his dick jump in excitement. it strained painfully against his pants, desperate to be buried inside her warm cunt.

"you like it when i eat your pussy?" eren's words were muffled, his fingers and mouth working overtime. the girl could only nod, her words lost in the pleasure. her moans grew louder, her legs shaking as her orgasm approached. her hips rolled, her thighs trapping his face between them. god, he fucking loved how thick you are. “tell me you’re pretty.”

"e-eren."

"say it. say you're pretty. you're so fucking pretty."

"i'm pretty," the girl panted, her nails clawing his scalp. "fuck, i'm so pretty."

eren couldn't help but grin. "that's right." the sound of his lips against her pussy is disgusting. the way he sucked her clit in his mouth, and the way his fingers curl deep within her cunt, reaching places she didn’t know existed drives her mad. her mind is hazy and her legs are numb. the pleasure is too much, she can't help but ride his face and his fingers, desperate for the high. eren hums as his nose bumps against her sensitive clit, her slick dripping down his chin. eren’s fucking messy, tongue lazily peppering wet licks on her inner thighs. his fingers never cease in their pace, his fingers never cease in their pace, and the girl can feel her legs shake , her vision spotting.

"gonna cum, eren," she whined, her back arching further off the wall. a loud sob fumbles from her as she finally reaches her peak, full-on crying as eren continues his assault. the brown girl is a blabbering incoherent mess as her boyfriend sucks on her pussy, fingers pulling at his hair for sympathy. but there is none, tears sliding down her flushed cheeks. "m’ i got you," eren comforts as he finally pulls away, gently guiding her aching body down. he’s nothing but a gentleman after, cleaning her up with a nice warm rag, slipping a pair of his boxers up her thighs, then one of his hoodies. once again it makes her tear up knowing how lucky she is. "shh. it’s okay, m’here." eren presses kisses against her face, "nothing would ever make me look at you differently."

he looks into her eyes, his gaze soft and reassuring, wiping away the tears that still cling to her cheeks. "you are everything to me. my future wife, the mother of my child, the one I want to grow old with. wether you’re a hundred pounds or two, i don’t care.” he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to her frazzled nerves. his kisses are light and delicate, each one a promise of his unwavering affection. in his arms, she feels cherished and safe, the world outside fading away as she bask in the sweetness of his care.

:,) to have a man like this.

[artinvain]

Hey, idk if you’ve already written it but a smut with a heavier reader would be much appreciated. I’m sure Abby would love to have readers tits spill out of her hands when she grabs them. Also pls don’t make reader insecure about their weight. Every fic that does include a heavier reader makes them insecure and that doesn’t reflect everyone. Sorry this was a bit of ramble. Thx.

abby x plus! reader smut <33 cw: daddy kink, lesbian smut, strap usage, oral from the back, est. relationship.

men, minors, ageless and blink blogs dni or follow!!

abby can't keep her hands off you, she's never been able to. especially not tonight with the way your tiny skirt is sitting just below you ample ass and she can't but moan aloud when you grind back on her as you dance, her hands coming up to squeeze your tits.

"fuck, i wanna take you home baby," abby moans into your ear, watching over your shoulder at the way your tits spill our between her fingers. your face contorts as she squeezes your tits and nipples. neither of you are even thinking about the other people on the dance floor. Especially when she turns you around to kiss you, licking into your mouth and moaning at your taste.

abby hands grab and squeeze your ass as she presses you closer to her, your plump body pressed against her and god she wants to feel your thighs soft and squeezing around her.

"fuck it, let's go - now."

you hardly have time to say bye to your friends the way abby is gripping you close and dragging you out of the club and into a cab. her hands rub up and down your thighs as you kiss and mouth at her neck. "wanna feel these pretty, thick thighs around my head, eat you until you can't speak," abby groans at the feeling of your mouth soft on her throat and making marks.

when you pull up to your apartment abby's removing your clothes in a rush, groaning against you as she grabs and squeezes at your plush hips, bending you over and smacking your ass, cupping your cheeks and moving them to watch your ass jiggle.

"god you're so fucking hot," abby moans, kissing down your back and squeezing you ass, smacking and eventually pulling it down on her face as she licks into your cunt. your gasp and arch your back so abby's face sinks into your cunt and she groans at the taste. licking and suckling your clit until you're convulsing.

abby sucks and licks at your clit, two fingers easing into your puffy cunt and she moans as the feeling, suffocating under your ass and between your thighs and she's in fucking heaven.

"please, please daddy m'so close," you gasp as abby curls her fingers into your gspot and hums around your clit until you're cumming. "good girl," abby slurs, bushing hair out of her face and moaning at the taste of you, the light-headedness she feels as she stands and turns you over.

"god, pretty girl, let me - wanna be inside you - please," abby moans, bending over you and gathering your tits to lick and suck at your nipples. abby lavishes them until they're hard and sensitive. "yeah abby, please," she kisses your mouth and disappears just to come clambering back into the bed. abby huffs, rubbing your dark inner thighs and fisting her cock with lube.

"please, want you inside," you moan and abby groans, sinking into you and pulling your thighs around her hips so she can feel your plush hips against hers. "oh fuck!" you yelp at the feeling of abby's cock spearing into your gspot, she keeps bucking her hips into you -- watching your face as it scrunches up in pleasure.

"god, you feel so good - so fucking wet and soft, shit" abby moans as the sound of your pussy sucking her in as desperately as you moan for her, trying to meet her thrusts and groaning as she presses your hips down to control the thrusts.

abby starts to fuck you continually until you're whining and grunting with each thrust, "abby, m'gonna cum, please," you moan and abby sighs, reaching down to rub your clit until you're cumming around her, eyes rolling back and you scratch down her back. abby's hips keep moving as she huffs and grunts with each heard thrust inside you, her strap pressing against her clit.

"fuck, shit. baby -- m'gonna cum - can i cum inside you? please?" you yelp at the way abby begs and you nod, "yeah, yes daddy cum inside," is all you manage to say before she's cumming. abby's eyes shut tight as she collapses into your soft body and feels you engulf her - your arms wrapped tightly around her as you scratch your nails through her hair.

(❁´◡`❁)🏷️ @lesbian-useless @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat @lavendersgirl @emiliabby

[bearw-me]

Lute x really flexible/gymnast fem reader with toned abs and legs that she's a little insecure about?

ORRRRR

Idk if you watch helluva boss, but: Lute reacting to her gf snapping a neck/suffocating a demon with her thighs like Millie did to that agent?

Your choice!!! (You might be able to combine these, idk)

i do watch helluva boss! blitzo's probably my spirit animal lmao. So i decided to do both! ( your request also strikes a nerve that may or may not include milly + moxxie )

𝐋𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐰��𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐆𝐲𝐦𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫!

𐐒 includes : lute x fem!reader 𐐒 cw : fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing, lute struggles to be soft, suggestive 𐐒 summary : Lute can tell somethings up with you, she just has to confront you 𐐒 word count : 757 𐐒 note : hcs i wrote at the start of this are included! loved working on this request it just took some time to get out p e r f e c t l y ~

The lieutenant picks a spot next to you on a cool cloud, her black wings folding in on themselves firmly.

"Hey," she starts.

"Hey," you repeat.

And the way she stares at you make you feel like she knows somethings wrong. That classic, sharp stare of hers. It makes you shrink a bit more into yourself, hiding parts of your skin from her as if they were wounded.

Lute looks ahead, mushing the cumulus under her hands as she stares ahead towards the training grounds. You had been watching her train. . . but only watching.

"So, you aren't going to train anymore? You know I-. . ." Lute catches her voice with a hiss. Its so incredibly hard and so awkward for her to get her words out.

WHY

You watch with a little smile as she rips two little chunks of clouds out. Gripping them tightly against her face in frustration.

If she were scolding her army, or telling Adam to watch his mouth, this would be so, easy! But. . . she was talking to you. Her girlfriend, and she knew something was wrong.

Getting there, to that honest softness inside her was- fucking hard!- but she had to try.

With a new found determination, she turned her whole body towards you, eyebrows hardened into a flat line.

"I love you," Lute sat forward, letting her warm hands rest on your legs, "and I want you to tell me what's bothering you. . . You know you can tell me anything. I can handle it." She offered a reassuring smile.

With a shaky sigh, you turned to face her, watching as the dark angel now took your hands in hers, rubbing little circles into your skin. It felt like a barbed wire was clutching at your throat, nerves clamping around your heart.

Maybe she'd think its stupid.

With a long, shaky breath, your lips parted in soft confession.

"I'm just not feeling that confident in. . . in how I look," your tone broke from the weight of the truth, head falling with shame.

Lute let her grip slip of your grasp, the pair of pale hands cupping your face instead, insisting that you looked up at her.

Your eyes popped open with surprise.

The way she was looking at you: her golden eyes held an unspeakable softness to them, edged with those dark lashes that made her intimidating. . .

She's only ever looked at you like that.

And now, there was a little patch of scarlet blooming across the bridge of her nose. The sexiest blush that made your heart speed up.

"So that's why you didn't want to train huh?" Lute tsked you, wiping tears from your eyes you didn't know you had with her thumbs. "You remember that sinner I saw you kill?"

It was your turn to blush this time. Vaguely remembering that guys neck you snapped with your legs. "Oh god," you mumble, trying to hide and squirm from her hands.

"Hey!" Lute laughs, pulling you closer into her lap.

God she's strong.

She lifted your legs over hers, motioning for you to put your arms over her shoulders whilst she nestled hers around your waist. The dark feathers of her wings expanding like a protective wall around her back to yours.

Honesty is a virtue, she reminds herself.

"Seeing you kill that sinner was- literally the sexiest thing I've ever witnessed."

"Lute!"

She laughs, giving your middle a firm squeeze "You're the sexiest thing in heaven, and there's not one thing about you body that I don't worship." This time, she sighs, glancing you shamelessly up and down.

"Gods, I'm horrible at this. . ." Lute lets her head plop into your shoulder, glancing up at you in order to gauge your reaction.

"I love you, and its for a lot of reasons," she mumbles, straightening up in your arms. So close you can feel her breath on your lips. "Just don't forget that."

Lute biting her lip until it bleeds

physical affection all the way with your body (she'd have trouble taking her hands off you when no one else is around)

And to put it simply, she may not tell you all the time that she adores your body, but she definitely shows it

supports you in anyway and always shows up to watch you during practice or competitions (on that note she'd be the one cheering the loudest for you)

she's super proud to be your girlfriend / call you hers

squish her head like a watermelon whattt

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Cover Me

Request: I got a request in my inbox for this fic. A Channie bias had sent an anon request wishing for a reaction. They had shared that they had lost their parents and they are an only child with no one, so there were times they felt alone and wake up feeling empty. I was editing the fic and accidentally posted it- and then deleted it because it wasn't finished thus leading me to lose that inbox request- so I'm really really hoping that they can see this either on my page or due to a repost or something. Because I just want to say that I know in times of suffering words rarely do anything to actually help. But I do know that words can create scenarios that provide an escape- even if just for a few minutes. So I'm hoping this can create that pocket of peace for you; and hopefully bring you a smile. Because I'm more than sure wherever your parents are now that they're smiling; and would love to see you smile back. <3

Chan x Gn!Reader Angst (Established Relationship)TW: Mentions of Death and Loss

I sort of wanted to make this kind of based off the song "Cover Me" by SKZ. When Rockstar was first released, I remember pressing play right at 12am when it dropped- and when Cover Me played I began to cry. Even without understanding the lyrics at the time I could hear the vulnerability of a searing kind of sadness. And it immediately became one of my all time favorite songs- if not tied for favorite along with Hellevator. Pain is a universal thing- but each and every person's experience with pain and grief is a unique experience. And even just through the sound of the song I think it was touched on beautifully. Because in those times everyone looks to be covered...So if you're the kind of person who like to relate stories to music- then I'd recommend giving Cover Me a listen.

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The night enveloped your apartment, thick with silence and shadows.

It was a quiet yet constant reminder of what you’d lost - your parents, their laughter, the warmth of their hugs. Their words. Lectures. Things you may have taken for granted in the moment but wished more than anything now you could be a part of once more.

Being an only child, that ache felt sharper, more isolating than it would be for most. Especially on mornings like this, the weight of loneliness is suffocating. And it didn't help that you had barely been able to get to sleep the night prior.

You had woken up today with a heaviness in your chest, a reminder of the emptiness that followed you like a relentless shadow. In a desperate attempt to escape it, you turned on your phone, scrolling through your playlists until you landed on Stray Kids.

Chan’s voice, the soothing anchor in your sea of sorrow, filled the room as you pulled up an old livestream.

As you listened to him laugh, joke, and share stories with fans, a bittersweet smile tugged at your lips.

In real life or online, he had a way of making everything feel lighter but even his comforting presence couldn’t always chase away the ghosts of your past.

More often than not they just provided a temporary escape.

In the midst of his laughter, you felt tears well up and blur your vision.

You missed your parents terribly today. You wanted them to be here, to share in the little things in life, your favorite moments - the way the moon shone outside, how it painted everything in silver, the memories that had been exchanged in moments that you had never known were going to be your last.

You felt the loss like a physical weight, the ache in your heart mirroring the brightness of the moon outside.

You choked on a sob, wishing someone would hear your cry, wishing for that warmth, that comfort that embrace that acted as a panacea to the worries of life.

And just as you thought you’d crumble under the loneliness, you felt a familiar warmth envelop you. You hadn't even heard him come home. but now Chan was there, arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin rested softly on your shoulder.

"I heard you crying," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with concern. "What’s wrong, love?"

The warmth of his presence grounded you, and you leaned back into him, seeking the comfort of his body against yours. "I miss them so much today," you confessed, the words spilling out in a rush. "It hurts."

He tightened his hold, his fingers tangling gently in your hair. "Thats only normal." he said, his voice filled with empathy. "I’m right here, love. Know that I'm here."

You turned to face him, the moonlight illuminating his features, making him look ethereal. His eyes were soft yet filled with understanding, and it felt like he could see right into your heart.

"I don’t know how to cope with this sometimes," you admitted, your voice trembling. "Some days are harder than others. And I don't know why some days I don't think about it at all. Why can't all days be like those days?"

He brushed a thumb across your cheek, catching a stray tear. "You’re allowed to grieve. And it's not a linear thing. You'll have those ups and downs. Just know that whenever the pain feels too much, I’ll be here to help you carry it. I'll always be willing to help you carry it."

As you leaned into him, the tears continued to fall, but this time, they felt lighter. The vulnerability in the air was palpable, but so was the warmth of Chan’s love. His presence was a cure, easing the sharpness of your sorrow.

You settled into the rhythm of his heartbeat, the soft rise and fall of his chest soothing your racing thoughts. "You make me feel less alone."

Chan nodded, understanding the depth of your feelings albeit a few simple words. "I’ll always be that someone for you. You’re never alone, even in your darkest moments." His voice was steady, a reassuring anchor amidst the storm.

Then he kissed your forehead softly, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. You felt the tension begin to ease, his soothing presence wrapping around you like a protective blanket.

"Let’s watch the stars together," he suggested, pulling you up gently; then leading you toward the backyard.

You stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin. You settled into the grass, Chan sitting beside you as you gazed up at the stars. "Look at how beautiful they are," he said, pointing out constellations. "I'd like to think that maybe your parents were allowed to hang some up for you as a lasting gift, hmm?"

You took a shaky breath and spoke. "I think they would have gifted me moonbeams..." You said quietly, looking at the full moon that lookes so fat and bright- as if you could reach out and grab it. "They always knew I loved the moon."

You laid back and Chan laid back with you in the grass, the blades tickling the back of your neck as a soft breeze blew past.

In the quietness, you heard Chan start to hum softly- and then sing.

"Dari ireoke nunbusineun bamen..." (On nights when the moon shines this bright)

You closed your eyes and let Chan's voice travel through your ears.

"Why do I feel so lonely in this night? Saebyeokbarameun mabeobilkka?" (Is the dawn breeze magical?)

In that moment, surrounded by the stars and moon wrapped in Chan’s voice you let your tears fall silently.

It hurt. With every beat of your heart you felt that strain.

"Yeah, I tried to hide away from all the sorrow and pain. But little did I know that I was going insane. The sun will always be there waiting after the rain."

And this moment only made you realize ever so much that the pain of loss would never fully fade.

"I can't take it anymore, what should I do?."

Your tears were hot as Chan intertwined his fingers through yours. Squeezing them lightly.

"Oneureun moreun cheok nungama jwo..." (Today, pretend not to notice and close your eyes)

You opened your eyes looking up at the silver moon. Wondering if they could see you, hear you. Acknowledge that pain you were harboring.

"So cover me now."

Please. Please.

"Cover me now."

You swallowed continued to stare at the moon and let your eyes trace over the stars as well. Leading you to the person beside you.

"Dari ireoke nunbusineun bamen.Nuga jeo bicheul garyeojugil oechyeo." (On nights when the moon shines this bright. I cry out, hoping for someone to cover that light)

His eyes were closed, a few tears of his own falling; letting you know that he felt for you too. That someone was out there, willing to help with that burden of pain.

A burden you had long since gotten tired of carrying.

"Bami eoneusae kkeuchi naneun najen Ttaseuhan bicheul naerijjoeneun bicheul."  (During the day, when night finally ends. I accept the warm light shining down)

A burden you no longer had to carry alone.

Since you had finally found your cover.

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@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

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@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

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@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

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[suavemania]

― ROSE FIELDS.

pairing: leon kennedy x partner!reader summary: leon kissed you during a mission. you confront him, but leon struggles to tell you the truth. that he loves you. words: 861 words, short and sweet. warnings: pretty angsty! leon deals with his trauma & self hate badly. light suicidal ideations. notes: i originally wrote this with my resident evil oc in mind. but i re-wrote this to fit into a reader perspective for tumblr to hopefully enjoy. written from leon's pov in mind. ummm, not super proofread BUT yeah. idk. it just spilled! i have pt. 2 and 3 already written but not sure if theres much interest tisstiss

"Leon, the kiss-"

"Don't."

He knew that the kiss was going to haunt him, that he would never be able to take it back. He placed his lips on yours, feather-like; as if he kissed you too hard you’d crumble under him. That’s all it was, he defended. A moment of weakness. But it was gone all too soon.

He sat on the bed, defeated. His shoulders stiff as he leaned forward, resting his weight on the elbows that were resting on his heavy legs. He felt your eyes burn into him. You were upset, confused, your emotions swirled in your throat, and Leon just sat there, silent. He refused to look at you, he couldn't. 

"Please." you plead.

And the guilt piles in his stomach once more. The canine teeth of his shame sinking in on his shoulders like pure poison, pumping his veins. He felt like he always made you feel like this, always selfishly hinging his feelings like bait, giving you bits of evidence to his true feelings whenever he felt like he would suffocate; whenever his heart burst at the seams. All he could do to defend himself was that this was for your own good, that it's nothing. You shouldn't know, you can't know, it would- it would­- what would it...

Coward.

That's what he thought about himself.

The truth was that Leon was scared of allowing himself to live in rose fields, let alone walk in them. After Raccoon City, he was so used to spending time in the dim and dark. The bright worlds felt foreign, forbidden; like something his mind and body had long forgotten. the light: it felt like a fantasy, you were like a fantasy. But Leon would rather let his heart waste away inside him than chase after a dream. His dream for safety, security, and knowing that his heart would be protected, shielded from his nightmares and guilt.

"Please, just talk to me."

But Leon kept his mouth shut, his head lowered to avoid seeing your silhouette. Had he given in, had he let his mouth confess his true feelings for his partner; he would have simply had to build another cage for his heart to live in: the inevitable fate of heartbreak, disappointing the one he loved the most. Leon had allowed himself to melt into his self-hatred long ago, feeding the insects at his feet and meeting the soil like honey. He would never admit that loudly, though. That would be thoughts he would sink with until the sticky soil met his broken body, his dampened soul melting into the stars. Or so he hoped.

Moments of silence pass, and as you stand in front of him, he notices your hands picking at each other (a bad habit, he knew that about you). For a brief moment, Leon allowed himself to marvel at you, to selfishly gaze at the only thing that mattered in his life. 

You.

The sun, he thought. He bit his tongue even harder, feeling his jaw clench tightly. Don't do this. Don't be so selfish, don't. What makes him think that he could ever pay off his mistakes, his sins that came back to haunt him every night; clawing at his back. The morbid pictures of Raccoon City were carved inside him, deeply imprinted into his body and mind. He couldn’t allow himself to lose another, especially if the person in question was you. 

He had imagined it if you were there that night, if he had lost you to the memory of Raccoon City. In his scenario, he would clammer his hands tightly onto yours. You’ve been infected, sick and weeping as you rot in front of him, your body actively decaying as he tries to fix you, trying to squeeze his power into you. You cried, blaming him for your slow, painful death. But that wasn’t a reality, and it was something he avoided by not telling you the truth, by not admitting that he loved you. Desperately. 

Maybe he was destined to be married to his work and not the person who stood in front of him. Had he thought about it? Absolutely, more than he would like to admit. Whenever he had trouble sleeping at night, his mind would wander into his better fantasies. He had played a ridiculous amount of scenarios in his head, all that would never come true. they would range from holding his partner's hand while they slept, to him taking photos of them as they explored the world together and the beauty that remained. 

“Leon, please-”

You felt your heart in your throat as you begged Leon with desperate eyes to speak, to answer your questions and feelings. You were filled with warmth, and your warmth was all Leon wanted to indulge himself in, to dive into. He wanted to feel you, to allow you to sand down his bones and brain until all he could be was the remains of his love, your love.

And he could just taste it, the sweet taste in his mouth. It was unbearable. He felt himself shred his hearts walls, the sting burning its remains in his chest, and all he could spit out was,

"I love you."

[archangeldyke-all]

hi! okay so im actually a mutual and a fellow writer of yours but im too shy to ask with my user visible. anyways i've been following you and reading your work on here and ao3 for a while but i didn't realize that was both you!! you're literally my fav sevika writer on ao3 (here too ofc)

anyways, if you haven't done this yet, i'd really appreciate sevika with a gf who is curvy and plump. like how would she react, what would she like abt her gf and such. can be sfw or nsfw, whatever you wish!

thank you for your work and i wish you a happy new year <3

hi bb!! thank u so much for such a lovely compliment! i wrote a little blurb about an insecure chubby reader getting her insecurities fucked outta her by sev ;) which you can read here!

but it's 2024! let's write some not-sad chubby reader, because this year we're loving our bodies and thanking them for everything they've gotten us through, no matter what they look like!!!

men and minors dni

sevika. loves. big girls.

idc what anyone says.

sure, she trains for her job. but her real motivation for hitting the gym every single night is the excited/horny/giddy look you get in your eyes when she picks you up with ease.

when her arms get wobbly and she considers just calling it a night and heading home, she thinks of the way you squeal when she throws you over her shoulder and shakes her head, grits her teeth, and continues her reps.

she loves having you in her lap. it takes a while to convince you. you're certain you're going to squish her, make her uncomfortable, but the weight of you against her is so comforting and soothing to sevika-- she's addicted to it. she's always got you on top of her, sitting in her lap or laying on her chest while you watch tv.

she loves how soft you are. besides your elbows and knees and skull-- every part of you is soft and pliable and plush and so so so grope-able.

she'll grope any part of you.

your flabby biceps? she's feeling them up like they're your tits.

the little pouch of fat under your chin? she's always pinching and rubbing when she holds your head in her hands as you kiss.

and your belly?!

sevika goes wild for your belly.

the way it rolls, the way it jiggles, the way it hangs over your waistband or peeks out of your shirt when you reach up-- sevika's constantly drooling over your belly.

if you're in the house, she demands you be shirtless. just so she can see your belly. sure, your tits are there too, and that's great when she's in the mood, but most of the time it's more wholesome than that. she's just obsessed with your stomach. she loves seeing the way it expands and contracts when she makes you laugh, loves tracing the little lines that form from your rolls when you stand after sitting for a while, adores the stretchmarks that decorate it.

in the bedroom, she'd constantly be biting you. she loves sinking her teeth into your soft flesh, loves the marks she leaves behind, loves the way it makes you gasp.

and the groping gets ten times worse.

one hand on each of your ass cheeks while you ride her, one on each of your tits during doggystyle. during missionary, she spends just as much time looking at your face as she does looking at your stomach, both of her hands gripping your hips, her fingertips sinking into your skin. if she's got you in a mating press, she's got her fingers pinching your thighs.

you don't sit on her face for a long time.

you're convinced you'll hurt her or suffocate her, and each time you tell her this she just grins and says, 'please do.'

but once she manages to get you to agree-- it becomes both of your new favorite position.

sevika's fucking magical with her tongue-- but when she's eating you out she's always teasing you, pulling away before you can cum or getting distracted by pressing kisses and sucking hickeys on your thighs and fupa. but when you're on top, you get full control, and you can grind your cunt against her wickedly talented lips and that gorgeous nose of hers as much as you please.

sevika, meanwhile, cums in her pants the first time you sit on her face. with your smell enveloping her, your taste on her lips, your sounds in her ears, her hands clinging on your hips-- how could she not cum? especially when your thighs start twitching around her ears.

she's always buying you clothes just a size too small. likes the way they cling to you, likes watching your flesh strain against the fabric.

on a similar note, she's always making you wear her clothes-- no matter how tight they are on you. she'll even chop the sleeves and waistline hems off for you so they're more comfortable for you to wear. she loves the way you spill out of her clothes, and she loves the way they slowly ride up to your waist over time, revealing your wide hips to her.

if you ever need to win an argument or really fluster sevika, all you have to do is wear thigh high socks. something about the way your thighs spill out over the hem drives her wild. she'll do anything if you ask while you're wearing thigh highs.

my other chubby reader blurb covers this much more in depth, but if you have any insecurities about your body, you won't have them for long with sevika around.

to her, you have The Perfect Body. sure, she's ripped like an olympian, but you are shaped like a fucking goddess. and she's very, very happy to worship.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbie

[inside-black-moon]

Little spoiler with psychological analysis.

You see right through me - how often have I heard this. You know that moment when...psychological traumas surface and in front of you stands not an adult, but a frightened child? Of any gender. At such moments I think - oh no...what happened to you then...

This slips into some phrases that are not typical of self-sufficient adults. Someone calls this "ability" to see people from the inside something like "people scanners" or simply "scanning". I would call it the usual creation of a cause-and-effect relationship and the ability to analyze. Otherwise, the simplest things will seem like magic.

Sometimes we take on social roles that are too big for us. Sometimes these are useful because they can become a growth point and motivation to develop. But often it works in the opposite direction and we simply break under the weight of this role. And there is disappointment in ourselves, hatred, exactingness due to inflated expectations. And the fear that others will see this weakness. Life hack for loved ones who have such people around - never focus on their failures, it will kill them.

If... if you understand that even superheroes can be out of shape, that they can have days when they cry into their pillow all night from helplessness, from the desire to give up their role, but at the same time they are torn to pieces by the thought "then I will let the others down and be a loser in their eyes, but I can't do this anymore", then you will be able to hear the answer to what they really want.

But it often happens that due to too long a stay in the conditions of "you are my hero, justify this title" they stop feeling and hearing their own desires. They do not know what they want and feverishly push responsibility for the choice onto others.

When you accept such a person in any state, and not only in moments of success, it causes a very strong attachment in them. Sometimes - suffocating with mistrust and jealousy. This is a sincere fear of losing this all-accepting connection, where you are not judged for who you are even in moments of weakness. Such people are in dire need of psychological security, a kind of "home" for the soul.

And with such people there will be endless tests like "do you really love me?" Such relationships require a lot of patience. I immediately remember the first years of my life with my husband. We traveled a lot by train and one day I fell asleep, and he came out of the compartment at that moment. I woke up, and he was gone. At that moment, I calmly decided that several years of life together were a figment of my imagination. That is, getting from hell to heaven, you will involuntarily pinch yourself constantly, not believing that you have ended up in normal human conditions.

Let's cross our fingers for Arthur - this nice guy hides great potential under a layer of self-doubt and self-criticism.

[egg-emperor]

there is no question, ramble about his butt

With pleasure hehe Eggman's butt is so glorious and big and fat and heavy 😍

His butt looks very big and round but smoothed out in canon with no distinct shape of his cheeks because if you could see them, nobody would be able to pay attention to anything else fjdbdkgjdgh. He really has huge round shapely cheeks, very wide, thick, and voluptuous. If he lets his bodysuit cling back there as tightly as everywhere else, they're very visible and are absolutely irresistible

He has such thick cheeks that wobble when he walks and he really knows how to twerk and make his cheeks shake side to side, wobble and bounce up and down, and make them clap. If he wants to show it off, he can shake it and really arch his back to make it stick it out and make it so tempting. Very lucky ones will even get him backing it up to them and shaking it on them and they'll fall in love!

If his ass is smacked by surprise from behind because it's just so inviting, he'll get flustered and yell at them like it's so preposterous. But what they didn't see is when he was facing the other way, he reacted with a heavy blush and was definitely into it. After he'll purposefully stand with his ass sticking out or bend over in hopes they'll do it again despite his embarrassed outburst

It will become obvious that he likes it really when he's bent over and smacked over and over, he loves a good spanking. He can't hide it anymore and sighs and moans from pain and pleasure. He likes being told he's a naughty boy that deserves it for being a very bad man, he giggles and cheekily takes pride in his wrongdoing and enjoys the experience of being "punished" for it

However by the end of it when it gets too red, sore, and sensitive he'll get grumpy and grumbly about it again, as if he didn't just allow it to happen and clearly loved it. But after tender loving aftercare with rubbing lotion round and round his sore plump cheeks and soothing it, he'll end up one very happy man again, very blissed out and content, albeit a little embarrassed by how much he likes it

Squeezing his butt and pulling his cheeks apart gets big full handfuls of warm soft blubbery fat that makes him gasp in delight. When lifted up they feel so heavy and when let go they jiggle and bounce as they drop. If he's been denying he likes it, it'll immediately reveal him a liar as he drops everything and turns into putty in their palms - figuratively and literally with how his ass feels in them XD

Being buried under his huge butt and nearly suffocating is heavenly. He says "yeahhh, you think you can handle being smothered deep between my cheeks, feel my heavy weight, and breathe my musk?" feeling very mischievous and shifts and pushes down harder when he hears their muffled voice or cries under him. It's certainly very heavy, suffocating, sweaty, and musky down there

He'll use it like it's a punishment that only he gets a kick out of in some situations but it should really always be seen as a reward, because when he finally gets off them, their face will be red from blushing so hard as much as the suffocation lol and they'll be lovestruck. Then he'll tease them for enjoying it so much and then boast that he's just so hot that even being punished by him is enjoyable

He enjoys shoving it into people's faces with a cheeky smirk, backing it to make them take it more in a more assertive dominant state. But there are times he'll enjoy it so much that he'll completely get down and push himself up to them in a "please take me" way instead. He'll swear that it's always a case of the former but they'll be like fake ass strict dom I saw you enjoying the submission XD

At first he wants to keep the way he enjoys having his butt played with secret. But I can imagine that once he takes over the world and is fully in control and proven his power so he doesn't have to worry about ruining his reputation of feared mighty ruler, he'll bend over or lay down ass up and order it to be loved up and worshipped by servants, where anyone can see without a care

Because anyone should be able to see that it absolutely deserves all the love and worship like every other part of him! 🥰 I mean, who wouldn't want to smack, squeeze, fill, and kiss the glorious handsome mighty emperor's ass (in every sense of the phrase!) ? They'll all be eagerly lining up for a taste of that delicious cake. If only I could get my hands on it myself 🤤💘💜

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Hear me out I am very high from a edible rn but HEAR ME OUT DUDE

so we all know Chris Evans and his absolute slutty build like cmon he literally was nicknamed the human dorito bc slutty waist

Anyways thinking about that one promo pic of Chris in the cap suit with his back turned to the camera and his ass is just perfect ANYWAYS FR THIS TIME

Thinking about stucky but not like dating but Bucky being obsessed with Steve’s absolutely slutty figure and once the two get close to being fully retired Steve gets bigger as he slowly grows accustomed to taking it easy for once. but not exactly just fatter everything is the same but somehow softer and bigger. His thighs spread out more when he sits his chest is massive not quite defined pecs but far from being flabby moobs they’re just huge, his abs are long gone but he doesn’t have a round gut (Atleast when he’s empty) and the best part that makes bucky go crazy is his love handles , ass, and thighs, all perfectly packed together in one big package that makes Bucky lose his shit. Steves ass has nearly doubled but it’s still a perfect bubble butt, and his thighs have filled out enough to close any gap that might’ve occurred even when he has a wide stance. (Think those really chunky frat boys that manspread and their thighs are still somehow touching) BUT Steve’s suit and most of his wardrobe hasn’t changed so his clothes just accentuate his assets. His thighs and ass taking up most of the room in his pants and they perfectly leave Steve’s bulge completely on display almost like a gift from god to Bucky. Anyways I’m sure if you did add to this you’d be able to express that better than I could! And if you don’t THATS ALSO COOL (pls by no means feel like you have to answer this right away )

THIS HAS VIBES 🤤🤤

You know what kind of vibes? Exhibitionist Captain America vibes from this post by iwritetheweirdstuff

And I assume you're talking about this photo, which I nabbed from forchrisevans

Okay, shit...

Now you just have me thinking about chunky but still super fucking muscular Steve. I’m going off the rails over here, biting and clawing at my enclosure. I don’t think this rambling is actually totally related to your original idea, so just know I love your original idea!

But this reaoly gets me because Steve would be such a fucking classic MAN. Yanno? Big and heavy and robust. He looks like he could take Bucky in his big, beefy arms and rip him apart. He’s healthy. Hefty. Rippling muscles hidden under this layer of pudge.

Yum.

Unbeta'd stucky belly kink ahead. Warning for weight gain, muscle chub talk, tight clothes, Bucky being a little creepy by drooling over Steve before they're an item, etc.

Before gaining weight and when he was wearing the title of Captain American so tightly that it was suffocating him to the point that he was unforgiving of himself, never good enough as Steve Rogers, Steve was like a Thoroughbred. A racehorse, smooth and lean, with a single objective. Win. But now that he’s looser with the title and deciding what he wants for himself, more often calling himself a nomad than going by Cap… now he’s gruff, ignoring the rules (ignoring them even more than he did before, which is saying something for a troublemaker like him), and he’s like a Clydesdale. He’s a tank.

A fucking beast.

When he’s running, you get out of the fucking way because of all the mass behind that force. If you let him collide with you at full speed, full force… it ain’t pretty. His feet pound the ground. Jesus wept. These days his chest, belly, and ass shake when he runs, even when his big, big body is wrapped tightly in all that deep, navy-blue Kevlar. The sight just destroys Bucky.

Bucky can’t fucking fight next to him anymore when they’re called in for Avenging every now and again, half-retired as they are. It was bad enough when Steve was that Thoroughbred, rippling lean muscle and a shiny, bright blond head of short hair. Always distracting Bucky. But now it’s worse because Steve is a Clydesdale with this heft to him and his dirty blond hair and dark, thick beard. He’s even letting his body hair grow in, and it’s all Bucky can do to not faint, landing face-first into the deepening cleavage between his robust pecs, inhaling the musk of him. Every time Steve grunts with the effort of punching or kicking or tearing some offending villain to pieces, Bucky swears he feels faint. He has this completely involuntary feral reaction to the burly man he’s become. Hunky. Stocky. Ripped. Hefty. Whatever fucking word there is for the built he’s got going… it makes Bucky’s mouth water.

Of course, Steve’s still only two inches taller - 6’2” to Bucky’s 6’0” - but suddenly he feels a whole foot taller, and he feels twice as wide as Bucky. Those broad shoulders are only made wider, reinforced by the extra protein he’s eating, thickening his muscles and adding soft pudge; his pecs are still high and tight but even more… they’re swollen almost, added to by an irresistible layer of fat that Bucky has the primal urge to bite; the abs he had once upon a time, defined enough to use as a washboard have softened, especially after a hearty meal like a good lumberjack’s breakfast or a caveman’s dinner, just, these big plates with plenty of meat piled onto them, which turn his stomach into this drool-worthy curve, a little belly that sticks around until he somehow manages to digest it all; that fucking ass made even rounder and more shapely to the point that his pants all strain across it, his sweats especially, nearly splitting down the middle whenever he gets out of his comfy recliner; his thighs, oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, they’re ripe, rubbing together and trying to bust outta his jeans, his sweats, even his Captain America uniform.

Bucky has it bad.

If he weren’t so focused on trying to not let his animal out, growling and just fucking tackling Steve to the floor, he would feel terrible for how much he’s sexualizing his best pal. It seems no matter what he’s doing, Bucky’s caveman brain is thinking about how to best peel him out of his too-small clothes. Too tight when he was lean with rippling muscles, barely any body fat on him, and especially too fucking tight now when he has this delicious extra give to him. He looks like a size two sausage stuffed into a size one casing. Bucky curses his wardrobe at the same time that he would fall to his knees and thank it with his hands pressed together, praying to it. He wants to be there for the day that Steve busts out of it after a heavy, hearty, indulgent dinner.

‘Cause, listen, Bucky’s spank bank is just overflowing these days:

When the most recent battle is done and Steve bends over to pick up a fucking massive slab of concrete, he unintentionally gives Bucky a front-row seat to his thick ass. His curves barely fit in his uniform these days. Honestly, Bucky doesn’t know how he puts that godforsaken, tight-as-hell uniform on by himself anyway. And he doesn’t want to think about it. Not in public! The only way he can imagine it happening is with Steve naked save for a jock strap, alone in his room. First, he steps into the legs, then he works it up his calves, getting it to his thighs where it gets stuck. He’s outgrowing it. It’s a tight fit, but he still fits for now. At least, he fits when he shimmies and wiggles into it. Better than a damn stripper. Moving his body in this unintentionally, totally sexy way. Wiggling. Pulling. Squirming. Even jumping while he’s at it, pulling hard at the thick Kevlar, his biceps bulging - they’re bigger than Bucky’s fucking head now - grunting as he holds his breath, sucking in. Sucking in! His chest expanding without his pudgy, starter belly going anywhere, stubborn and jiggly.

Whenever he bends over, he gives Bucky a show, really. It doesn’t matter where they are...

When he’s bent over looking at the leaky pipe under their kitchen sink, his waist filling more of the open cabinet than it once would have. While he’s down there, his shirt rolls up over his soft little hips, the new weight just beginning to accumulate there. The start of what could be real love handles someday.

When he’s looking through the bottom drawer of the fridge, doing a head count before they head out for groceries. He’s not dressed yet, though, so he doesn’t have a belt to hold his pants up and his sweats slide down the shelf of his ass, displaying just enough of his asscrack for Bucky to feel starved, meaning he’s extra grumpy at having to wander around an overcrowded store. Shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Hungry and horny.

When he’s drawing on the couch and he accidentally lets a pencil fall onto the floor, so he has to get up, but, oops, it looks like it must’ve rolled under the couch so he gets even lower. Onto his knees and forearms. Searching blindly for the pencil… blind to Bucky’s eyes, perving out on how his thighs touch from the back now, his legs getting just as thick as his ass is. And it’s thick.

When he’s doing stretches on their balcony in the morning, breathing in the fresh air, doing some cat-cows, and inadvertently displaying his new belly that’s still rumbling through last night’s dessert. A classic, couple 'a slices of pie and ice cream. Too much pie and ice cream judging by how distended his belly looks.

When they’re getting some of their energy out now that they’re not constantly going out and avenging, half-retired, by sparing with each other in the gym. Sparing, kind of wrestling, too. They’re not trying to be tactical about it, they’re just having fun, being big kids, reminiscent of the days when they’d pull the mattress off the bed and start to play fighting on the floor. But they aren’t kids and Steve isn’t so much smaller than him, so Bucky doesn’t have to focus on finding that perfect balance of holding back just enough where it doesn’t seem like he is but he’s also not at risk of pushing Steve’s frail body too far. Now they can really whale on each other. Which is fun… until it isn’t. Because Bucky is laughing and sweating and actually starting to feel tired, and then he’s pinned, and he’s choking back a moan, sweating harder. Steve is on top of him. Steve is crushing him. Steve’s big, hot chest is against his back - Bucky can feel how he’s sweating through his skintight white t-shirt, his thick pecs squishing against his shoulder blades. Steve’s delightful, chubby, little belly is slotted perfectly into the small of his back. While fighting, Bucky’s shirt has risen up, and apparently, Steve’s has done the same, despite how firmly it had been clinging to his soft middle the last time he dared to sneak a peak because now their sweaty, hot skin is pressed together. Steve’s hairy tummy is tickling him, making Bucky want to squirm. He wants to moan. It’s a good fucking thing he’s face-down with Steve on top of him. He wants more than just to squirm and moan, he wants to hump the floor like an animal because with Steve’s tits pressed to his back and his belly squished to his back, it aligns his crotch right up against his ass. Bucky can feel Steve’s dick on his ass through the thin layers of their sweatpants and underwear. He can feel how heavy it is. And he’s thinking about how Steve’s dick probably blushes a dusky pink and gets wet at the time and how it probably curves a little and gets so thick when he’s hard and… this is where Bucky dies because Steve readjusts himself, making it worse by spreading his killer thighs to either side of Bucky’s legs, practically grinding into him, trapping him between his watermelon-crushing thighs. “Had enough?” Steve teases him with a shit-eating grin. God. Only if the fucker knew.

When Natasha adopts a new, abandoned kitten that she’s named Liho and they go over to play with him at Tasha’s apartment and Steve decides to grin like he does, always breath-taking, his smile the sweetest, most affectionate thing as he lifts Liho up above his head like Simba in the Lion King (yes, they’ve caught up on that modern pop culture reference, thank you very much). Bucky nearly goes cross-eyed, staring at his pecs. His t-shirt clings to his round, heavy tits. With his arms up, it forces his pecs to move up, too. High and plump. Bucky can see every detail of them, he can see every breath he takes, making them heave, and he’s almost able to pick out the tiniest creaking groan of the seams of his shirt screaming under all that pressure. Tasha doesn’t bat an eye, at the treatment Steve is giving her new companion, she just squeezes past Steve in her kitchen (is the apartment that small, or is Steve that big?), flicking one of his hard nipples. The points of them are obvious through the straining, thin fabric. She refills her mug with coffee but she doesn’t take a sip until she reminds Steve that if he wants to see how much more comfortable running can be, he only has to say the word and she’ll show him the magic of sports bras. Everyone can see that he needs it, and he might as well embrace it. They can even get matching ones if he wants. Her smile is razor-sharp, teasing. Bucky nearly chokes on his tongue, imagining the heavy mounds of his tits hoised up higher, giving him even more cleavage than he normally sports. Guh. Bucky wouldn’t survive.

When later during that same day, Steve decides he’s going to lie down on Natasha’s couch as they watch a movie - some Russian production that Tasha’s been telling Bucky about forever (he’s hardly paying attention and it’s Steve’s fault that he’s going to have to watch this again, on his own, during one of his sleepless nights when he can pay attention to it) - and Liho decides that Steve’s his favorite. So, he wanders back over to curl up on his soft chest and belly and starts fucking kneading his plush chest and belly like it’s the comfiest, fluffiest pillow ever. It probably fucking is! And Bucky can’t blame the kitten for purring so loudly - despite Steve’s and Tasha’s amusement at it - Bucky would be no better. He spends the rest of the evening biting the inside of his cheek and trying to banish all the mental images of his own hands kneading and squishing and groping those tits until Steve’s blushing, his mouth open, eyes heavily lidded, sweat beading at his hairline, begging Bucky to move on and touch him somewhere else, anywhere else! His nipples swollen and so hard. Irrestable. Bucky would indulge him… sort of. He would move on. But he’d have to give the same thorough attention to his soft belly, his growing hips, his thick thighs, and his fat ass. His body deserves to be pleasured until he’s out of his mind.

When Steve’s loose and warm, they’re hanging out in some back-alley sports bar in Brooklyn for a game, watching the feed on TV, downing beers and greasy bar food with Sam and some other guys from the VA, and a sip goes down the wrong pipe so Steve has to pound his chest with a closed fist, ending up not coughing but belching loudly. For everyone else, the sound is covered by the rowdy cheers filling the crowded, dimly lit space. But not for Bucky. For Bucky, Steve is the only thing in focus. Steve, with his looser fit shirt disguise, blending in, his baseball cap tugged down low on his forehead, shading his eyes, his beard grown out, thick, and… Bucky can’t take it. His body. The way his belly scrunches up when he sits down, bulging out further. The way his throat moves when he chugs from a long-necked bottle. The way his pecs jiggle when he jumps up excitedly, cheering loudly, and the similar way his belly wobbles at the same time. The way he groans at the end of his beer burp, voice rough from yelling all night and soaked in hoppy, malty richness. The way his thighs spread out over his bar stool, expanding, stressing the seams of his jeans. He’s taking up so much space with his broad shoulders, excitable hand gestures as he talks, and his manspreading. Yet, it’s still not enough. His thighs fill out his tight, dark-wash denim so well that even when he’s manspreading, his thighs still touch. Bucky aches to curl up in his lap and kiss him, feeling his beard tickling his face. He wants the heat of that big, big body underneath him. He wants to feel the hot line of his erection when he grinds down into him - their stomachs pressed together, Steve’s heavy with bloating, greasy, fattening bar appetizers.

Bucky’s spank bank is over-fucking-flowing as Steve starts putting on weight and if Bucky didn’t know better, he would think Steve is doing it to him on purpose, teasing him, trying to get him to jump his bones 😏

[honeeysagee]

Supernova Chronicles #1: Star Girl

{dad's best friend!sam}

summary: Living under your ex-military father's strict rules has always been suffocating, but now that your parents are leaving for a three-month trip, you're finally getting a taste of freedom. However, just as you're ready to embrace it, your father adds a new layer of oversight by arranging for a friend to keep an eye on you. Despite the looming watchfulness, you're determined to prove your independence.

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As you lifted your eyes from the pages of your book, you were surprised to find the night had settled in faster than you anticipated. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving behind only a gentle, lingering glow that barely touched the corners of your room. Sleep eluded you, knowing that in a short while, you’d see your parents off on their trip, a farewell that weighed lighter with each passing minute.

Seconds ticked away as your thoughts drifted, pondering what freedom might feel like if not for the constant, looming presence of your ex-military father, whose shadow seemed to shape your every move. You knew he meant well, that his strict rules and watchful eyes came from a place of love, but it often felt suffocating.

He wasn’t just a father; he was a guardian, a sentinel who saw the world as a place filled with threats rather than opportunities. His experiences had made him cautious, and that caution had seeped into your life, shaping your choices, your actions, and even your thoughts. Yet, all of that would soon come to a pause when you wished them good luck on their three-month trip, a temporary release from the constant watchfulness that had defined your existence.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the prospect of having the house to yourself stirred something unfamiliar—a mix of excitement and anxiety. The absence of your father’s ever-present gaze would grant you a freedom you hadn’t known in years. But with that freedom came uncertainty. Without his steady hand guiding every move, you would finally be able to explore life on your own terms.

There were so many possibilities, so many things you had pushed aside out of respect for his boundaries. You could stay out late without a curfew, invite friends over without worrying about his disapproving look, or even take a spontaneous trip without needing to provide a detailed itinerary. But along with the excitement was the nagging fear of stepping too far, of what might happen without his protection.

Your father’s voice boomed through the room, "Young lady," The weight of his tone instantly commanded your attention, as it always did. You turned to face him, bracing yourself for whatever lecture or piece of advice he was about to deliver. His expression was stern, his eyes searching yours as if he could read every thought and feeling you were trying to hide.

You went to nod before your mother stepped out from behind him, her expression softer and filled with understanding. "Give her a break, Maliki. She's 21," she said, her tone gentle yet firm.

Her words brought a momentary relief, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as the tension in the room eased slightly. Your father's eyes flicked to her, his brows furrowed in that familiar way he always did when he was caught between his protective instincts and the reality that you were no longer a child. "I know," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of a man who had seen too much in his life to ever take safety lightly. "But she's still our daughter, and it’s my job to make sure she’s safe, even when we’re not here." There was a pause, his gaze locking onto yours as if silently pleading for your understanding.

Your mother stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm, her touch doing what words couldn’t—calming the tension that had built in the room. "Maliki," she said softly, her voice a soothing balm to his worries. "She’s responsible. We’ve raised her well. Let her have some space to prove it."

He sighed deeply, the sound heavy with a mixture of concern and resignation. The years of military service had made him see the world through a lens of potential threats, and letting go—even just a little—was no small task for him. He turned back to you, his expression softening as he looked into your eyes, the same eyes he had watched grow from a curious child to a determined young woman.

"Alright," he conceded, though his voice still carried that underlying edge of caution. "But you know the rules, and I expect you to follow them."

"I will," you promised, your voice steady as you tried to reassure him. The tension in your chest eased slightly, thanks to your mother’s gentle intervention. Your father turned to retrieve their bags, the sound of his footsteps momentarily filling the room with a sense of finality.

Your mother smiled warmly at you, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding of what this moment meant. It was a look that spoke volumes—a mix of pride in the person you had become, trust in your ability to handle things on your own, and an unspoken acknowledgment that this was your time to step into your independence. "Have a little fun while we’re gone, okay? But not too much," she added with a playful wink, her attempt to lighten the mood bringing a soft chuckle from you.

Her words were a gentle reminder that while your father’s rules still applied, there was room for you to breathe, explore, and to enjoy the space they were leaving behind.

"One more thing," your father announced, marching back into the room with his usual determined stride. You sighed deeply, the sound heavy with a mix of exasperation and resignation. If it weren’t for your mother, this place would be run like a military camp, every minute accounted for, every action scrutinized.

He paused, clearly preparing to deliver another one of his directives. "I have a friend who's moving into town while we're gone. I asked him to keep an eye on you for me."

You felt your heart sink a little at the thought. Just when you had started to embrace the idea of freedom, another layer of oversight was being added. It was classic Dad—always thinking two steps ahead, always making sure you were protected, even if it meant infringing on your newfound independence.

Your mother, ever the mediator, shot him a look that spoke volumes, but he remained steadfast. His concern for your safety outweighed any notions of giving you space. As much as you appreciated his intentions, the idea of someone else watching over you in his absence felt like a tether, holding you back just when you were ready to spread your wings.

You and your mother exchanged glances, both of you struggling to hide your disbelief. You wanted to protest, to argue that you were capable of managing things on your own, but you knew better than to invite an hour-long lecture. So, instead, you took a deep breath and nodded.

"I am an adult, Dad," you said with as much sincerity as you could muster. "But thanks for looking out for me. I promise all the rules will be followed."

Your father's expression softened a bit at your words, though the concern in his eyes didn’t entirely fade. He gave a nod of approval, seemingly satisfied with your response. Your mother’s smile was both understanding and relieved, her eyes conveying a silent message of support.

With one last look around the room, your father finally turned to finish preparing for their departure. You felt a mix of frustration and acceptance, knowing that while you might have a bit more freedom, your father’s protective instincts would always be a part of your life.

With the little freedom you did have before the mystery friend showed up, you decided that spending the night at an old fling's house was smart. Except… as the night wore on, you realized that old sparks didn’t always reignite the way you expected. What once felt exciting now seemed dull, the connection that had once drawn you to them fading into something that felt almost forced.

The conversation lagged, the laughter felt hollow, and the thrill you’d anticipated was replaced with a creeping sense of discomfort. That led you to a bar within walking distance of the college you attended. It was a place where you had spent many nights before—familiar enough to feel comfortable but far enough from home to let you forget about the lingering weight of your father’s rules. As you pushed through the doors and into the dimly lit room, the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses provided the backdrop you needed to clear your head. Here, among strangers and old acquaintances, you could lose yourself in the anonymity of the crowd.

You settled by the bar, knowing the bartender, Danny. You called out to him, and as you did, you noticed his eyes already scanning you, a familiar gleam in them. "Is that my baby?" he teased, his voice warm and inviting, the grin on his face growing wider.

It was the kind of greeting that brought an instant smile to your face, easing the lingering discomfort from earlier in the night. You felt a sense of comfort in his playful tone, the familiarity of it all a welcome change from the awkwardness you had just left behind.

"Only if you’ve got something strong for me," you replied, your voice carrying the same playful edge.

He chuckled, already reaching for a glass. "For you? Always." With that, he poured you a shot, the amber liquid catching the low light as it filled the glass. He slid it across the bar towards you with a wink. "On me tonight," he added, his tone softening with a touch of familiarity.

Your eyes lingered on the drink for a moment, watching the way the light played off its surface, shifting colors as it danced through the glass, casting an orange glow. You wrapped your fingers around the cool glass, bringing it to your lips with a sense of anticipation.

As you downed the shot, the burn of the alcohol was immediate, but it quickly gave way to a spreading warmth that settled deep within you.

Danny smiled deeply at you before returning to some people who shouted orders at him. But even during the chaos, he didn’t forget about you. Without a second thought, Danny placed two glasses in front of you—a small routine he’d developed over the years. One glass held another mystery alcohol, something he knew would be strong but smooth, and the other was filled with water, a silent reminder to pace yourself.

You took both glasses in hand, the coolness of the water a sharp contrast to the warmth still lingering from the first shot. With a nod of thanks, you left the bar and headed upstairs to your usual table on the second floor, a quiet spot tucked away from the busier parts of the bar.

Yet, as you approached your usual table, you found it already occupied. Sitting there was a man who seemed to draw every eye in the room.

He had a striking presence that commanded attention effortlessly. Tall and broad-shouldered, he exuded a confidence that was both relaxed and commanding. His skin was a deep, warm brown that seemed to glow under the bar’s ambient lighting, and his well-defined features were framed by a neatly trimmed beard that added a touch of rugged charm.

His eyes were captivating—dark, expressive, and framed by thick lashes that only intensified their depth. They held a warmth and intensity that suggested both kindness and a hint of mischief. He wore a simple yet stylish outfit: a well-fitted shirt that accentuated his muscular frame, with sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, toned arms. His casual, yet impeccably put-together appearance spoke of someone who was effortlessly stylish, with an air of sophistication that suggested he knew exactly how to balance charm and grace.

As he leaned back in the chair, his posture was relaxed but confident, and every movement he made seemed deliberate, adding to his aura of effortless cool. It was the kind of presence that made heads turn and hearts flutter, the kind of charisma that made any woman, or anyone, for that matter, fall for him almost instantly. And despite not even hearing this man speak, you were falling.

"Excuse me, you're in my booth." The words came out with a boldness that surprised even you. Normally, if your spot was taken, you would have found somewhere else to enjoy your drink and listen to the live music. But tonight was different. Something in you stirred, pushing you to assert yourself in a way you usually wouldn’t.

The man looked up, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. He didn’t seem fazed by your direct approach—instead, a hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth, as if he found your boldness refreshing. He straightened in his chair, his posture now more attentive, and his eyes sparkled with interest.

"I’m sorry about that," he said, his voice smooth and reassuring, with just a touch of charm. "I didn’t realize we had assigned seating in the bar."

The playful glint in his eyes suggested he was enjoying the exchange. His smile remained, warm and inviting, as if he were genuinely intrigued by your assertiveness. You noticed the way his smile seemed to light up the space around him, making it hard to stay annoyed. Despite the initial irritation of having your usual spot taken, you found yourself drawn to his easy confidence and charm.

"No, but it’s my usual spot," You continued, trying to maintain a balance between firmness and the hint of humor in your voice. "I guess I just get a little territorial over it."

He chuckled softly, the sound smooth and easy on the ears. "I see. Well, if it’s that important to you, princess, I’m happy to move." Yet, he didn’t budge. Instead, he picked up his drink, taking a casual sip while holding your gaze.

You found yourself swimming in the depths of his eyes, losing track of everything else around you. There was a magnetic quality to his stare, a captivating intensity that made it hard to look away. The playful challenge in his expression seemed to dare you to continue, making the air between you feel charged with unspoken possibilities.

You met his gaze with a raised eyebrow, trying to maintain your composure despite the flutter of excitement in your chest. The question hung in the air, a playful invitation wrapped in charm.

“Well, considering you seem to be quite comfortable,” you replied, a touch of amusement in your voice, “I guess I’ll have to find another spot.” You started to turn, but his voice stopped you.

“Why don’t you join me?” he offered, his tone a bit darker despite the earlier banter.

The subtle shift in his voice didn't scare you away. Instead, it drew you closer, adding an intriguing layer to the conversation. The seriousness of his offer contrasted with the playful edge, making the invitation feel more intimate. You settle into the booth - just across from him.

"How long have you been in college?"

The question took you by surprise. It was an unexpected shift from the lighthearted banter you’d been engaged in. You blinked, momentarily caught off guard, trying to gauge the intent behind the seemingly simple question.

You quickly recovered, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. “A couple of years,” you replied, your tone casual but with a trace of curiosity. “How did you know I was in college?”

His gaze remained steady, as if he were genuinely interested in your answer, adding a new layer to the encounter. "You have a full glass of alcohol in your hand. The college is quite literally walking distance from the bar. Plus, you just have that look." You were used to being read. Your father did it effortlessly, and you often found it intrusive and irritating. But when this man did it, you found it surprisingly attractive. Something was compelling about the way he observed you, his insight was delivered with a mix of curiosity and charm that felt both flattering and intriguing.

A smile tugged at your lips as you leaned in slightly, your interest piqued. “And what kind of look is that?” you asked, your voice laced with playful challenge. The attraction you felt was undeniable, and you found yourself wanting to dive deeper into this unexpected connection.

"What are you studying in college?" He ignored you, but the way he spoke, with that mix of confidence and insight, made the atmosphere between you both feel electric. His words, though perceptive, were wrapped in a charm. You took a sip from your glass, savoring the warmth of the alcohol as you considered his observation. “Psychology. Minor in astrology,” You admitted your voice soft. His eyes never left yours, and there was something in his gaze that made you feel seen in a way you rarely experienced.

"Oh, a stargirl. What, you're going to read my palm? Tell me that my sun's in retrograde, and I'm going to experience something devasting next week?" He was playing with you. That teasing grin plastered on his face told you everything. You played along,

"You wish," you replied with a smirk, leaning in slightly. "But no, I’m more interested in the why behind it all. Like why you think your not-so-subtle charm works, Mr…" His teasing grin faltered for a moment, caught off guard by your directness. You could see him recalculating, trying to figure out whether you were playing the same game or a different one entirely.

"Call me Sam."

"Sam." You repeated. "Nice to meet you." You let his name linger on your lips, testing the waters. The way he watched you, eyes narrowing slightly, told you he was still trying to get a read on you. "Well, now that we’re on a first-name basis, care to enlighten me on why you think my charm isn’t working?" he asked, leaning in closer, his tone playful but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

You tilted your head, considering him for a moment before responding. "It's not that it isn’t working. It’s just that it’s a little too practiced. Like you’ve used it one too many times and are still waiting for someone to catch on."

His smile grew, but there was something different behind it now—an acknowledgment that you weren’t just another easy mark. "Maybe you’re right," he conceded, his voice dropping lower. "But maybe I’m not the only one with a practiced game."

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at your lips as Sam slipped closer to you in the booth. The sudden closeness sent a jolt of awareness through you, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the warmth of his presence. His arm brushed against yours, a deliberate move, but his gaze remained steady on yours, searching, perhaps, for a reaction.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting, “it’s not often I meet someone who can see through the act.”

You felt the pull of his words, the way he was trying to draw you in, but you weren’t about to let him take control so easily. “Maybe it’s because I’ve seen it all before,” you replied, your tone casual, though your heart was pounding. “Or maybe it’s just that I’m not as easily swayed as you think.”

The band downstairs began to play a tamer version of "Lost in The Fire" by The Weeknd, the sensual beats weaving through the air, amplifying the tension between you and Sam. He leaned in even closer, his voice barely cutting through the music. “Seems like the universe is giving us a moment,” he teased, his lips dangerously close to your ear. You could feel the heat of his breath, the intimacy of the moment making your pulse quicken.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, which had grown darker, more intense under the dim lights. “Is that what you think this is?” you asked, your tone playful but edged with challenge.

“Maybe,” he said, his eyes flicking down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Or maybe it’s just a lucky coincidence. Either way, I’m not going to waste it.”

The brief touch of his lips sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could fully process the moment, he closed the distance completely, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was both soft and deliberate. The world around you seemed to blur, the music, the crowd, everything fading into the background as the warmth of his kiss anchored you to the moment. For a second, you hesitated, feeling the intensity of the connection, the electricity between you both undeniable. But then you found yourself responding, your hand instinctively reaching up to touch his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of stubble beneath your fingertips.

The kiss was his, yours—a perfect blend of give and take, like a dance where neither led nor followed, but both moved in sync. It wasn’t just about the physical connection; there was something deeper, an unspoken understanding that neither of you had expected but couldn’t ignore. You weren’t new to this. Kissing strangers in a bar whenever the mood struck was something you could handle—a momentary escape, a way to feel something real in the midst of a night out. But this time, it felt different. There was something in the way Sam kissed you, something more than just a fleeting connection. It lingered, like a spark that refused to die out.

The desire for more surged through you, overpowering the usual restraint you held onto in these moments. You bit his lip, a teasing nip that conveyed your need without words. It was a bold move, one that signaled you were no longer just playing along—you were in control, too.

His response was immediate. A low groan escaped him, and you felt the shift in his demeanor as his hand slipped up your leg, fingers tracing a path that left a trail of heat in its wake. The closeness between you intensified, the air around you thick with tension as the line between want and need blurred.

You were teetering on the edge, knowing that you were pushing boundaries, both yours and his. The thrill of it all, the way he responded to your every move, made you crave more. It wasn’t just about the kiss anymore; it was about the power, the connection, the undeniable chemistry that was sparking between you two.

He pulled away just enough to shift your position, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap. The movement was fluid, controlled, and he held you there with a firm grip, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation. For a brief second, he paused, giving you the space to decide, to back out if you wanted to. But who were you to do so? The thrill of the moment, the intensity of the connection—it was all too intoxicating to resist. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm as you steadied yourself on his chest, your legs now straddling his.

His hands settled on your hips, holding you close, but still allowing you the freedom to move, to take control if you wanted. The music, the dim lights, the distant hum of the crowd—all of it faded into the background as the space between you vanished once again.

His hand traveled farther up your thigh, reaching the edge of your lacey underwear. The touch was tentative at first, his fingers brushing lightly against the delicate fabric. You could feel the heat of his touch through the lace, a mix of anticipation and excitement building between you both.

His eyes remained locked on yours, seeking any hint of reluctance, but all he saw was the undeniable intensity between you. Your question, murmured against his lips, was met with a dark, hungry look.

“Nervous? I can stop if you don’t think you can handle it?” you asked, your voice teasing and breathless.

He responded by pulling you down harder onto him, the pressure of his hard on unmistakable against you. You could feel the heat and firmness through the fabric of his jeans, his desire pressing firmly into you. The action was assertive, a clear statement of just how much he wanted you.

His grip on your hips tightened, his gaze intense as he sought your reaction. “Handle it?” he growled softly, his voice a mix of raw desire and playful challenge. “I’m just getting started."

Finally, his pulls your underwear to the side, and ran his thick, long fingers against your pussy. You let out a soft gasp as his fingers did wanders. He bit at your neck as you moaned. His thumb stroked your clit gently, and he smirked when he heard you suck in a sharp intake of breath, the sensation making you arch against his hand. "Tell me how much you want it, my stargirl?" He purred, his voice rough. He pressed his hand forward, rubbing against your center, slowly increasing the pace and pressure, his other hand moving higher, stroking over your breasts while his mouth trailed kisses along your neck and down your jawline to your shoulder.

A deep groan tore from your throat as you bucked against his hand, the sensations overwhelming you. The pleasure was intense, a wave of heat and desire crashing over you, making it hard to focus on anything else. You could only hope that the music blaring around you would drown out the sounds of your moans, as you lost yourself in the moment.

His hand pressed against you with increasing firmness, each touch igniting a new wave of pleasure that had you gasping for breath. The crowd and the music faded into a distant background as you focused solely on the connection between you, your body responding instinctively to every movement he made.

The intensity of the moment was undeniable, the pleasure building with every second, leaving you both caught in a heady mix of desire and anticipation. Sam knew exactly how to touch you, his touches always light, almost hesitant.

His hand now underneath your shirt and letting his rough fingers pull and rub on your nipple. As soon as the sensation became too much, you arched your back towards him, desperate for release, wanting his touch to be the only thing keeping you grounded as you struggled to hold on. He continued to tease you. His words floated through your head, charged with a mix of command and promise. “Don’t you come, or I’ll bend you over the table and let the world see how beautiful you look when you moan.”

The intensity of his voice, combined with the forbidden edge of his words, only heightened the pleasure you were already experiencing. The image he painted was both thrilling and provocative, pushing you to the brink of control. Your body trembled in the need to comply with this stranger's demand. You could feel him, feel yourself pulsating beneath his hand as his finger played around the tip of your swollen clit. The sensations were indescribable, sending your mind flying as you tried desperately to stay afloat on the waves of sensation crashing around you. His fingers worked quickly, his motions slow and calculated.

“Sam,” you whined, your voice a mixture of desperation and desire. The sound was almost a plea, a soft, urgent call. He responded with a low, approving growl, his hand continuing its relentless exploration. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Let me hear you, Stargirl."

You whimpered, the sound vibrating in your throat as his lips pressed harshly against the spot below your ear, his teeth grazing ever so slightly across the sensitive flesh. The combination of his touch and his rough, seductive whisper made your breath hitch.

“Come,” he murmured, his voice rough and commanding, “Come on, Baby Girl. Tell me what you want.” The raw intensity of his voice was a seduction all on its own, fueling the fire within you. Your pleas came out in a breathless rush. “I want it. I want it so bad. Please.”

You were pleading with the devil himself, caught in the overwhelming blend of desire and desperation, the need for his touch and his dominance consuming you completely. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, the touch burning through the thin fabric of his shirt, making him shudder slightly as you gripped him. He could feel your nails digging into his scalp, scratching at the strands of his hair before dragging them down his neck. He shuddered again as his fingers moved faster, circling your clit in small circles. Each one drove you closer to the edge, until there was no turning back. No running from this. There was no going back after this, only forward.

As the orgasm took over, your cries echoed throughout the room, punctuated by gasps and moans that grew louder with every passing second. The intensity of the moment left you breathless, your body struggling to contain the overwhelming surge of pleasure building inside you. Each muscle felt strained, pushed beyond its limits, as every thrust drove you closer to the edge.

The sounds you made, the way he looked at you, and the intensity of his touch all combined to fuel the fire between you. The passion and energy surged, driving both of you to the brink, as you fought to get even closer, to experience the connection at its fullest.

With every movement and every word spoken in your favor, the climax approached with a force that left you completely vulnerable, the moment consuming you entirely as you both reached for that ultimate release. As the climax surged through you, it felt like an explosion of sensation, every fiber of your being caught in the throes of ecstasy. Your cries grew more frantic, each sound a testament to the intensity of the moment. The room seemed to spin around you, the music and the crowd becoming distant echoes as you were consumed by the overwhelming pleasure.

His movements were relentless, perfectly in tune with your responses, pushing you to the absolute edge. Every thrust, every touch was precise, maximizing the pleasure that you were both experiencing. His eyes never left yours, filled with a fierce, possessive intensity that only heightened the sensation.

The energy between you was electric, a tangible force that seemed to build with each passing second. You could feel the sweat on your skin, the heat of his body against yours, and the rhythm of your combined breaths creating a symphony of desire.

As the final wave of orgasm washed over you, it was as if time stood still. Your body tensed and shuddered uncontrollably, every muscle locked in a state of heightened pleasure. You were utterly lost in the moment, every sensation amplified, every sound magnified.

Finally, as the climax began to ebb, you both slowly came back to yourselves, the immediate rush of pleasure giving way to a lingering sense of satisfaction. The intensity of the connection between you remained, a testament to the shared experience and the power of the moment. He gently eased his hold on you, his touch becoming tender and reassuring as he helped you settle.

"Your charm is working wonders." You whispered to him

His eyes sparkled with a mix of satisfaction and amusement as he looked at you. You could see the effect your words had on him, the way his smile widened at your playful gratitude. He brushed his thumb over your lip before leaning in close to your face, pressing his mouth to yours in a passionate kiss. "It really does."

౨ৎ.....................................................౨ৎ...................................................౨ৎ

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, you lay in bed, reflecting on the night you had just shared. The warmth of Sam’s touch and the intensity of your connection replayed in your mind, vivid and electrifying. You could still feel the lingering traces of pleasure, a reminder of the unforgettable experience that had left an indelible mark on you.

But as you thought back on the night, a pang of regret tugged at your heart. The abruptness of your departure weighed heavily on your mind, leaving you unsettled. You had wanted to leave with him, to linger in the warmth of the connection you had forged. But as he turned to pay the tab, a sudden wave of uncertainty had washed over you.

In that fleeting moment, doubt had crept in. The intensity of what you had shared felt almost too real, too overwhelming, and the vulnerability that came with it scared you. So, instead of waiting for him, instead of letting yourself be drawn back into his orbit, you slipped quietly through the bar door, leaving before he had a chance to turn around. Not to mention, your father's call.

Now, in the light of morning, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had made a mistake. You had let the moment slip away, leaving behind something that had felt meaningful, something that had the potential to be more than just a fleeting encounter.

You wondered what Sam had thought when he turned around and found you gone, and whether he had felt the same connection you did. The regret gnawed at you, but so did the uncertainty of what might have happened if you had stayed.

As you lay there, the room quiet and still, you couldn’t help but replay the scene in your head. You remembered the way Sam had looked at you, the way he had responded to your every touch and whisper. The memory was tinged with a bittersweet edge now, the sudden end to such a profound connection leaving you with mixed emotions.

The departure had been sudden and unceremonious, and you found yourself wishing you had been able to give the night—and Sam—the closure they deserved. You thought about how you might reach out to him, how you might explain the abrupt end and express your gratitude for the night you had shared. Yet, your little Cinderella act left with you nothing.

You decided, then, that you couldn't waste your three months of freedom of fantasizing over what ifs with a guy the same age as your father. It would never happen, and besides, you knew nothing about him. He was just some guy in the bar with really nice hands.

The doorbell rang, pulling you from your thoughts. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you sat up in bed, wondering who could be at the door so early. The bell kept ringing, persistent and insistent, refusing to be ignored. After another few moments, you gave in, sighing as you pushed off the covers and swung your legs over the side of the mattress.

As you made your way downstairs, you passed through the kitchen, absently pushing some dishes into the sink, just in case your father had returned. The house was quiet, the early morning light casting soft shadows across the floor. You couldn’t shake the strange mix of anticipation and anxiety that had settled in your chest, a nagging feeling that something unexpected was about to happen.

Reaching the door, you paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before opening it. The thought of who might be on the other side lingered in your mind, a blend of curiosity and trepidation swirling together.

With a quick twist of the knob, you pulled the door open, and the breath caught in your throat. There he was. Sam.

He stood on the doorstep, phone pressed to his ear, but his eyes were fixed on you, an unreadable expression on his face. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension from the night before lingering in the air between you. The surprise of seeing him here, of all places, left you momentarily speechless.

His gaze didn’t waver, and though he was speaking softly into the phone, his attention was entirely on you. There was a mixture of emotions in his eyes—curiosity, maybe even a hint of something deeper, something unresolved from the night before.

He said something quickly into the phone, his voice low and calm, "Yeah, she came to the door."

You cocked your head to the side slightly, confusion and curiosity mixing in your expression. The way he spoke, so assured and composed, contrasted with the flurry of emotions you were feeling. His words hung in the air, leaving you to wonder who he had been talking to and why he was here.

"Sure thing, Maliki," he said, putting extra emphasis on your father's name. The realization hit you like a jolt—this wasn’t just a chance encounter. This was the man your father had sent to watch over you.

Your eyes widened slightly as the pieces fell into place. The sudden phone call last night, the urgency in your father’s voice, and now Sam standing here on your doorstep, all made sense. The night you had shared, the connection that felt so real, now had an entirely different context. He wasn’t just some guy you met at the bar—he was here because your father had sent him.

"Don't worry," Sam stated, his tone darker and more intense than anything you had heard from him the night before. The shift in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and your heart fluttered with a mix of fear and curiosity, wondering what he truly meant.

"I'll make sure she never leaves the house," he continued, his words lingering in the air, heavy with implications.

Your pulse quickened, a knot of anxiety forming in your chest as you tried to decipher his intent. The man who had been charming and playful just hours ago now seemed to harbor a side you hadn’t anticipated—a side that was far more serious, possibly even dangerous.

[neteyamb]

ashes to ashes: chapter three

pairing: loak x f!omatikaya reader

summary: as a healer, y/n had taken an oath to treat every patient with their best interests in mind. this hadn’t been a problem, until loak’s petty injuries become a routine. she has to swallow her pride and feign concern, feign kindness, and face the ugly hate that has been brewing between them for years. 

tags: enemies to lovers, slight angst, best friend kiri, mentions of blood, mentions of war, language

word count: 2.2k

notes: you know exactky as much as i do what will happen next. its a secret to the both of us, babe!

⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･

billie bossa nova

love when it makes you lose your bearings / it might be more of an obsession / you better lock your phone / and look at me when you're alone / won't take a lot to get you goin' / i'm sorry if it's torture though / that heavy breathin' on the floor / i’m yours, i'm yours 

nova – a star that suddenly increases its light output tremendously and then fades away to its former obscurity

when the RDA returned to pandora six years ago, young and promising navi warriors got beaten to a pulp left and right. some of them never made a full recovery. now familiar with human weaponry, the omatikaya were able to push back in the war significantly, but this didn’t come without the help of maiya. she was swift to open the doors of an additional healing hut. moat, as tsahik, had hers located centrally in the village while maiya placed hers on the outskirts; readily able to patch up any injured that limped in from the forest by foot. 

the raids became even more frequent, and maiya was quick to recruit new healers. you were seventeen, and roaming aimlessly with empty hands. while you were capable enough to be a warrior, she had convinced you it was better to have another healer than another soldier in the battlefield. at the time there were–what, three or four healers? and thousands on the frontlines? the ratio wasn’t effective, and she urgently needed help. you promptly agreed.

✶✶✶✶

humiliation twisted in your gut as she spoke. “i will not accept this behaviour in my own hut, y/n. you are too old for this.” you look down at your feet, ears ringing as her sharp voice filled the silent room. “do you know how bad it would look if my own apprentice was the cause of our soldiers’ injuries? i cannot allow it.” she rubbed her temple, sighing in defeat. you choked on the air in your lungs as if you were suffocating under the weight of her disappointment. “fix this,” she muttered, “don’t come back until you do.” 

✶✶✶✶

loak thunders into his family’s hut, arm bloody and face pinched. kiri eyes him from the corner, placing her yarn down carefully. “what happened? you’re walking like an orangutan, i can practically see the stream leaving your ears.” he didn’t appreciate the joke, instead flopping onto his hammock with a defiant grunt. “so broody! loak, c’mon. fess up.” he tries to swat her off his conscious like a bug, but she wasn’t having it. “i can’t weave if you’re gonna be mumbling and grunting every few seconds.” he rolls over to face her begrudgingly, and she raises her eyebrows. her words are firm, and he sighs, giving in. “y/n and i got into a little spat. i’m sure maiya’s getting her good right now for it.” he winces, awaiting her response. he knows how it sounds, but you were a little too good at aggravating him. everytime you’re within his eyesight, his gears start grinding like an explosion in slow motion. you were electric, equal to him in emotion as well as verbal combat.

kiri’s eyes fall on his wounded bicep, and she points. “is this the result?” he’s quick to ease her alarm. “no–no, this is unrelated. that’s actually why i went to see her.” her shoulders relax and she takes her seat again. “grandmother’s hut is far closer. you could just go there.” kiri picked up her yarn once more, fiddling with it as she spoke. loak’s gaze lowered and he chewed his lip, hoping that stubborn silence would end the conversation. “you know, if you just pulled your head out of your ass, she might actually like you. she’s cool like that.” loak suddenly felt restless. he abruptly got to his feet, heading out as quickly as he came. “yeah, yeah.” he muttered under his breath, trying to brush her observations off in vain.

✶✶✶✶

your eyes swelled in frustration as you left the tent, but you were too embarrassed to cry. this was your own doing. your feet padded on the dirt, steadily increasing their speed as you travel deeper into the forest. after running for what felt like hours, the air was bitter in your lungs and they heaved with effort. you crumbled beside a small creek, throat still tight like a vice enveloped it as you dropped your feet in the water. you were unmoving for several minutes. a flat stone flies past your arm, and you look in the direction it came from with trepidation creeping into your muscles. loak follows the flying stone with his eyes as it skips over the water’s surface, face stoic. you don’t relax at the sight of him, instead rigidly turning back to the creek as you anxiously run your tongue over your teeth. 

loak stands still for a moment, staring at the tension in your shoulders before apprehensively sitting down a few feet away from you, letting the water lap at his calves. eyes glued to the folded hands on your thighs, you ask, “why are you here, loak?” with quiet defeat in your tone. he begins absentmindedly moving his feet in the water. “i probably shouldn't have done that back there. it crossed a line.” you scowl at your hands, uncomfortable with his pity. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you bristle. there were never apologies, never any outright confrontations like this. not with loak. he throws his head back, sighing through his teeth at the clouds above as a silent plea for the virtue of patience. “cut that shit out. i know she yelled at you.” his eyes drop, watching as you twist your hands. “thanks for the pity, you can be on your way now.” you snap, challenging him as your narrowed eyes bore into his own. 

loak huffed exasperatedly, laying on his back as his feet swayed in the cool water. “when my dad found out the RDA was back, he really grilled us with training. more than before. i got yelled at left and right,” he licks his lips, aware of your now attentive gaze on him. “and it fucking sucked. i’m just saying, i get it.” you hummed lowly, pursing your lips and pinching your brows together. “you probably had it coming,” you inhale sharply through your mouth, “but yeah. it fucking sucks.” this was uncomfortable; toying with an unspoken boundary. you didn’t like the vulnerability that hung in the air. 

you bite the bullet. you knew you had to have a word with him eventually, for maiya, but you didn’t expect it to happen when you were still licking your wounds. “maybe i shouldn’t be beating people up in a healing hut.” laughter rolls through his torso, hands on his stomach. “you did not beat me up, y/n.” you allow a small smile to play at your lips, cautiously shuffling closer. if he noticed, he didn’t say anything about it. 

the two of you sat awkwardly by the creek for some time. loak confided in you about how he felt he didn’t belong in his father’s squad, and you did the same. the conversation was timid, unsure, but wholehearted. as you spoke, his eyes fell to the dip in your cupid’s bow before snapping back up to your bright eyes. it happened so fast, he was sure you weren’t aware. to put it plainly, loak was nervous. your closeness made his heart pound in his chest, and he struggled to control his breathing. he didn’t know where to look; your eyes felt too intimate, but if his were to wander it would be moreso. he restricted himself to watching the gentle breeze rock the water, but still your voice infiltrated his ears, your scent filled his nose. you were overwhelming, everywhere, and it made him uneasy. 

✶✶✶✶

loak had walked back with you to the village, tail stiff behind him. you now stood outside of maiya’s hut, fretfully alternating your weight on each foot as you listened to her soft hums inside. you were close to chickening out, but before you dejectedly turned back, you hear her sigh. “come inside, maite.” you suck in a breath before lifting the entrance flap, looking sheepish. “i am so sorry, maiya. it’s been resolved. please forgive me.” the words are escaping your mouth like vomit. she rests a heavy hand on your shoulder and rustles your hair with a soft smile on her face. “all is well. come, i need a second opinion on this paste.” she turns back towards the counter, mixing peacefully. you’re rooted to the ground for a moment, processing her words slowly, before stepping to her side. 

the sky had grown dark, and you put your fingers to your forehead to bid maiya farewell. as you walked home, something curled in the pit of your stomach. you were sure you had overshared with loak, and regret was creeping its way into your mind. only when you climbed into your hammock did it begin to unfurl. it was unlike him to reach out to you like he had, and you feel skeptical about the unfamiliarity of the situation. hopefully, it was a misnomer you could write off.

✶✶✶✶

it was noon, and loak was flying his ikran closely above the treetops alongside his dad, brother, and a handful of other warriors. the raid had gone as planned, but there were knicks from bullets painting his skin and he was almost positive there was blood running down his spine. as they landed, loak removed his queue from the animal and walked wearily with heavy footing towards his grandmother’s hut; the fact that it was closer than yours and he was exhausted was a bonus, but his main concern was the on-edge feeling you had given him the day before. had he made a mistake, allowing himself to be close to you? he didn’t have the energy to entertain that line of thought. loak peeks into the entrance to find his grandmother already working on several of his colleagues, most of which are substantially more injured than he is. moat sees his shadow on the floor and looks up, pulling a tight smile. “tìrol, i am afraid i cannot assist you right now. will you need help getting to maiya?” he grimaced internally, before responding, “no grandmother, i’ll be alright. thank you.” 

he departed swiftly, feeling pain shoot up his left leg with every step. you were prepared with abundant supplies, already tending to one other navi soldier. in the entrance, he watched your brows pinch as you stitched up a deep gash in the man's thigh. maiya wasped around you, analyzing your skill as she prepared gauze for the wound. loak almost forgot why he was here, why he didn’t come here sooner. his eyes drank in your graceful movements; after you expressed your lack of confidence in being a proper healer, he was sure you would go pale at serious injuries, but instead you worked fast and calm. he watched your hands caress the skin with calculated movements, watched as your smooth voice eradicated the fear in the warrior’s eyes. only when maiya took over with the gauze did you see him in the entrance, stricken with grief at your skill. 

for an awful moment, there were flashes of envy in his gut; he had devoted his life to reminding you that he was better than you, but you were here all this time actively making a difference in the clan while he disappeared into a sea of identical soldiers. and the way the warrior looked at you kindly, with blind appreciation–he had never been able to wear that look on his face with you. loak suddenly feels cheated by life; it was really that easy? his gut became heavy. you offer him a clipped smile, motioning him inside. feeling sick, he was grateful to take a seat on the mat, tucking his legs underneath his thighs in earnest. “how are you feeling?” you ask, already bringing an array of remedies to the mat. “tired,” he mumbles distantly. you trip over your words, embarrassed at his blunt misunderstanding; surely asking on his emotional wellbeing was too intimate? “i mean–well, are there–do you feel any pain anywhere?” he feels dumb, a blush beginning to raise on his neck. “my leg hurts,” he admits uncomfortably. you nod, holding your hands out apprehensively in question.

loak understands, unfolding his legs and pushing the left one towards you silently. you feel for any fracture or break in bone, and allow yourself to breath out when there aren’t any. still, you apply a numbing cream and move to his back. your fingers were so light on his spine they almost tickled, and he shifted awkwardly under your touch. he prayed wordless thanks that he wasn’t in need of stitches; he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. tentatively, you fill the heavy silence. “okay, i think you’ll be fine–” your breath hitches as you move around to his front, catching his dazed eyes with your own. your interactions with loak now felt clumsy, full of doubt and hesitancy, and you didn’t like it; you could no longer predict his thoughts, much less his next move. he clenches his jaw and brings a shaky hand to the floor, pushing himself up and moving his eyes away from you. “thanks, i’ll be on my way now.” you share a look with maiya as he walks off, still shaking.

⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･

notes: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

taglist: @weasleytwinwheezes

[nyoomfruits]

always always kudos to your writing those recent ones are so cute and lovely ❤️❤️💙💙

can't wait for the magic helmet au and a programler max au ?? Wahh color me excited

if you're still accepting requests from the prompt clichés -> zipping up their dress race suit?

i don't even need you to write it just some thoughts if you want (maybe you got a lot of prompts idk) but i saw the prompt and mind just went !!!!!

thank you so much ;-; if everything goes according to plan i should finish the magic helmet au either today or tomorrow!!!! so get ready for that somewhere in the upcoming days :D the programmer au will probably take considerably longer because i keep adding plot points and ideas to it lmao. anyway!!! idk if this is what you wanted for the prompt but its where my brain went so!!!!! i hope you enjoy :)

The pictures leak on a Saturday evening, right before a race. Charles can’t help but feel like it’s some kind of cosmic justice for being reckless, careless, for thinking no one would catch him making out with that guy at a party a few weeks ago.

There’s really no denying it. It’s clearly him, and it’s clearly him kissing another guy. Ferrari’s PR team is in shambles, his own management is scrabbling to get some kind of public statement ready before the race, and the whole time Charles just feels like he’s floating through it all.

They manage to smuggle him in through the back, so he doesn’t have to speak to any press before the race, and he keeps his head held high as he makes his way through the garage towards the cars on track, trying desperately not to pay attention to the stares and whispers that follow him.

No one tries to talk to him, and he’s not sure if that’s a bad thing, or if they’re just trying to give him space. No matter the intention, all it does is make him feel alone.

He always knew he was going to have to come out at some point, impossible to hide forever in today’s day and age of phones and social media, but he always thought he would be able to do it on his own terms. Not to have the rug pulled from under him like this.

His hands are shaking, and he’s struggling to pull the zipper of his race suit back up. He can feel tears stinging in the corner of his eyes, knowing all eyes are on him, knowing everyone is seeing the effects all of this has on him. He’s about to give up, about to say ‘fuck it all’ and just go home, when there’s suddenly hands on his, gently prying them away from the zipper.

“Hi,” Max says, taking the zipper from Charles and slowly doing it up. “How are you holding up?”

And Max. Max is just smiling at him, in that same soft gentle way he always does, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Charles feels a weight fall of his shoulders. “Terribly,” he says, because he knows Max values honesty, and there’s not point in hiding, not for him.

Max hums, lets his hands linger at the throat of Charles’s race suit for a bit. “You’ll get through it,” he says, voice so sure, so certain. “You always do.”

Charles can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Max.”

“Anytime,” Max says, and his left hand moves to Charles’s shoulder, squeezes lightly, before letting go and stepping away. “Have a good race,” he says, smiling that small, private little smile he seems to reserve for Charles.

“You too,” Charles says, staring after Max as he walks back to his team.

It’s a weight off his shoulders, knowing that Max will still treat him like he always does. That nothing much has really changed. Suddenly, the stares of the people around him feels less suffocating, less all consuming.

Max is right. He’ll get through this.

[beevean]

He had forgotten how it felt to suffocate.

If he could, Dracula would gasp for useless air, and shed tears that his eyes no longer needed, and scream until every glass in the castle shattered. But his body held still, slumped in an armchair in front of a fire whose warmth didn’t reach him.

Immortality without her would be nothing but emptiness. He could no longer recall his old friend’s face, but he would never, ever forget the sorrow with which he had uttered those words that, damn him, proved themselves to be true once again.

Dracula would laugh at God for his audacity. Would curse him, spite at him the vilest blasphemies that could rise to his tongue until he fell to the Earth under the weight of his crimes. He did neither. Death had taken Lisa with him, and even though he had made the Reaper bend his shoulder at him, not even the Dark Lord had the power to call back a departed soul.

And so Dracula was once again alone. He closed his eyelids, the light of the dancing flames still burning behind them, not enough to cover the memories of Lisa’s cold, torn body in his arms. Sleep did not reach him, and it never would. There was no escape for him, no reprieve from the mire he was drowning into.

Then there would be no escape for the humans, either. If the rest of Dracula’s existence was doomed to be nothing but agony, then the rest of the humans’ pitiful life shall be the same.

A loud knock roused Dracula from his poisoned thoughts.

“My Lord?”

He perked his head up at the sound of Hector’s voice. Of all inhabitants of the castle, he wasn’t expecting his Generals to look for him: he had ordered them to spend every waking hour of theirs in the laboratory, to create an army for him. The rest of their life shall be working for him, working until their own flesh melted away, as they had sworn to do.

He could drive them away. Even without a reflection, he was able to tell that he did not look the part of a Lord worth to be respected. However, an uncharacteristic hesitation stilled his hand.

Company… would be appreciated, at the moment. And of the few people he was willing to admit that he trusted, his boys were two of them.

“Come in,” Dracula beckoned them, in a shamefully hoarse voice. He did not have the will to stand up, and he decided that it didn’t matter. The door creaked, and in the room stepped Hector and…

He was alone.

“Where is Isaac?” Dracula asked, curiosity piqued. Usually, the two were joined at the hip. Then again, usually Lisa would be sitting at his side, welcoming the young Generals with a smile on her lovely face. It was fitting, then, that the both of them were without their closest companions.

“Isaac doesn’t wish to disturb you, my Lord.”

“And you do?”

The boy’s impassive face did not hide a faster heartbeat. “I’ll leave if my presence is unwarranted, my Lord. But… I wanted to make sure you were doing alright, first.”

Alright? The notion was nearly offensive. No, he was not doing alright. He was dying, over and over again, every second that he spent on that armchair, without Lisa to hold to his chest.

However, despite the insensitive words, Dracula reined in his anger, because Hector cared. He had no reason to come to him; not even Adrian had deigned to approach him since their last heated argument. Him and his ridiculous notion of sparing mankind: how dare his own son stand on the side of his mother’s murderers! Instead, his own student showed him compassion. Perhaps Hector could lend him a better ear.

“No need to leave, Hector. You may come closer.”

Hector obeyed, with his back straight, hands behind his back and head dutifully bowed. Always concerned with discipline, even in a world that made no longer sense. The cloth of the armchair gave beneath Dracula’s claws: how could he pretend everything was still normal? How could he still act like a proper knight, when Dracula didn’t even feel like a person? Why did he, why did all of them, have the privilege to go on about their life unaffected when everything was over?

No, there was no place for order anymore, not in a world that delighted in ripping everything dear away from him.

“I knew that one day, I would have to say goodbye to my Lisa,” Dracula spoke, more to the fireplace than to Hector; still, the boy’s breath sounded closer. “But I figured that she would die in peace on her bed, after living a long life at my side. Not like this, Hector, she didn’t deserve this, not a pure soul like she was. What a cruel, petty being God is… and his creation followed his footsteps…”

Death, death to them all. They will suffer what they put his Lisa through tenfold, a hundred-fold; he will tear them apart limb from limb, slit their throats and bathe in their muddy blood, crush their skulls under his boots. And with the mountains of corpses that he would leave in his wake, he would climb to Heaven, and repay God for all the injustices he had committed. He would reduce this husk of a world to dust in his fingers.

Perhaps that would be enough to bring him some needed cheer.

Dracula did not expect Hector to respond, to even begin to understand him, as young and reserved as he was. He didn’t mind: the heat radiating from him, the low thrumming of his heart, they were an almost familiar comfort. He was not Lisa, but it would do, for now. The boy needed not do anything more but exist next to him, without rejecting him.

And yet, Hector spoke.

“There isn’t a creature in the castle that she didn’t touch with her presence, my Lord. I can’t imagine the depths of the love you feel for her… but know that we all cared about Lady Lisa, in some fashion: it would have been impossible to not do so. I will always be thankful for what she did. Lady Lisa…” His breath hitched. “She was the mother I never had.”

The boy stepped closer, his gaze kept at his feet as Dracula taught him to do, even though this time it was him who looked up at his student, leaning to listen to his words.

“You’re not alone, my Lord. I don’t have the power to bring the dead back… but if there is anything you need, I will give it to you.”

And Dracula, resurfacing from his mire for a second, believed him. If there was anyone who could keep that promise, it was his prodigy of a student.

Moved by an impetus without a name, Dracula clasped his boy’s hand: humans burned hot on his skin, yet he welcomed the fire, the heat radiating from the contact that seeped through until it reached his chest. He used to draw warmth from Lisa in much the same way.

“Then help me, Hector.” It was an order; it was a plea. “Let me rain down fire and brimstone upon those wretched creatures who dared to took her away from me, until the wind blows away their ashes.”

Seconds passed, marked by the ticking of the clock. For a terrible moment, Dracula feared that Hector had been seized by hesitation, by rebellion, much like Adrian. No, he would not, not diligent, loyal Hector. He had sworn.

“If humans have decided to declare war on you, then we will retaliate as they deserve,” Hector asserted at last. His head snapped upwards, and Hector looked at Dracula with his icy eyes, that put in his mind the harsh winters that killed hundreds. “Her death won’t be in vain. I will make them scream in your name, my Lord.”

A smile found its way on Dracula’s lips.

“Oh, Hector. When did you grow up so much?”

“It was under your care, my Lord.”

[axolotlsupremacyowo]

Find the Word...Nature Edition!

Hi besties!

It's been a long time, hasn't it? Way too long! And since I have so many new fics to get excerpts from, I decided to start up another round! And this time...with the theme of nature! It's a fun theme, I think. Nature is always lovely.

Now, I'm gonna tag my usual gang, that being @mrsmungus @oceangirl24 @sliebman10 @danceswithdarkspawn @kayedium-writes @tsunderesalty @fattybattysblog @hylianjo @udaberriwrites @sergeantneko @mikaharuka @narcissasdaffodil, and of course, open tag for anyone who wants to join!

Words for me to find

Shore, Bark, Lightning, Barren, Foliage

Words for you to find

Ivy, Palm, Moss, Blossom, Pebble,

Now, let's go on shall we?

Shore (Hermit Crabs)

Soon, they were sat on the sands of the shores, watching a hermit crab trudge along through the sand. Klavier had to admit, it was adorable. “You know, hermit crabs don’t like being out during the day.” Apollo spoke up. “They don’t?” Klavier inquired. “Yeah, they don’t. They’re nocturnal creatures, so they usually come out only during the night. But sometimes though, a couple of them come out during the day. It’s pretty fascinating why they do this…” Apollo then went on a ramble about hermit crabs, Klavier happily listening along. He’d be the first to admit, he had no idea what Apollo was talking about. But it was the way that he said it, the passion and the smile on his face, it kept him engaged the entire time. The smile Apollo had on his face, wide and full of wonder, Klavier was glad he was getting to share this moment. Just between the two of them. This was the man he was dating, this was the man he was in love with, and he couldn’t have been any happier.

Bark (Green Emeralds and High Tides, Chapter 3)

Now that the fiasco earlier was over, Klavier got a better look at the mage, and what he was wearing. Brown eyes that seemed to take in the world sharply, almost skeptically, and hair the perfect shade of tree bark brown. He wore a large brimmed hat, red vest, white shirt with rolled up sleeves, a belt with potions and pouches attached to it, and a golden bracelet with carved eye designs. He was…cute, the mage, even when his sharp brown eyes zeroed in on him the moment the door opened. In fact, that actually made him cuter. As soon as the door opened, the mage’s gaze went directly to Klavier, carefully watching his every move. Cautiously, Klavier had realized, he was watching him cautiously. “Hallo.” Klavier greeted with a warm friendly smile. The mage eyed Klavier warily. “…Hey.”

Lightning, Barren (Yours Truly Franziska von Karma, Chapter 3)

The defendant lobby, that was where it all happened, it was the catalyst for the change in Franziska’s life. Franziska didn’t remember much about that afternoon, it all blurred together into a single horrifying sensation, a sensation that crashed over her like strong waves in the ocean, suffocating her under the weight of it all. All she remembered was the flickering light of the lightning, the thunderous sound of thunder accompanied with angry shouts, and the throbbing pain on her back as she was thrown to the wall. However, there was one thing Franziska remembered so vividly, and that was the scream. She could still hear it, the horrible scream that she had heard when she had fired the gun. Franziska was back in that very same defendant lobby, sat on the floor of the very defendant lobby where it happened. It was raining, just like it had before when it had happened. Though, something was different about it. It was darker, more cold and barren, and Franziska could sense an undeniable malevolent force. She could barely see the walls, ground, and ceiling, having to squint her eyes at the darkness to be able to make out the forms. Every now and again she would hear the sound of thunder, and the familiar terrifying flashing of lightning. In the darkness of the defendant lobby, Franziska could see the form of a person. The form was laying on the ground, almost as if it were dead. But it wasn’t dead, Franziska could see the way its chest rose and fell, it was still alive. Almost sleeping, in a way. Franziska’s eyes widened as she realized who the body was. It was her mother.

Foliage (Those Shining Jade Eyes)

It was always so beautiful in the springtime, vibrant green grass with flowers blooming in bursts of color all throughout the valley. Warm enough to not need to bundle enough, but not too much to become uncomfortable. And even if it got too hot, the canopy of the foliage of Cindersnap Forest’s trees provided enough shade to be comfortable. Sometimes Alana saw forageables on the ground of the forests, picking up and then putting them into her backpack. And on this particular day she had picked up many foraged goods. She even went to the patch where spring onions grew, a place that Dickon had shown her when he first showed her around the valley, a tour he gave her so that she could get ready for her new job in Pelican Town. A forest ranger, Alana had done a lot of research on it before she decided to drop everything and move. It had taken an infuriating amount of paperwork and bureaucratic bullshit that she didn’t care about, but when it was all done, Alana was relieved to finally be done with the oppressive hold that corporate life had on her. And she liked her job as a forest ranger, it was a lot calmer and in an odd way, it livened up her brain, unlike the way her job at Joja sucked out the life from her. And she liked living with the local artist Leah, making new friends in the valley. There was of course her friend Dickon, his insufferable husband Sebastian, the bubbly bartender Emily, her roommate and great new friend Leah, and so many other friendly acquaintances that Alana treasured deeply. Though, there were a select few that Alana truly became close with. Everyone in the valley would be lying if they said they didn’t notice how Alana joined the writer artist duo Elliot and Leah so well, to the point that a time when she wasn’t their friend seemed so long ago, even if it had only been a little over a year ago. She was friends with everyone, she really was, but she seemed to click with them the most, connected with them in a way that she hadn’t in a while. Leah was friendly and creative, always smiling gently and cared deeply about nature as much as Alana did. Kind enough to let Alana live with her, laughing when Alana had at first refused, saying that it’d be nice to finally have a roommate again. And then there was Elliot.

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hiiii!!! this is for the match up thingy :3

im fixated on um. oh god. weight in gold - gallant, literally every hozier song ever and if im being honest - dodie. i really like the backing music and lyrics of all these songs and obviously i cant just choose one :3

ok i have no idea what this means but from highest? to lowest it’s apparently 6, 4, 3, 2, 8, 1, 5, 9 and 7

I ABSOLUTELY DO. i love learning so much,, i dont have a favourite but video games or historic events or horror are my favourite genre :3

i dont remember my childhood friends much but i conjured them up because everyone else had one and i felt left out. purely out of spite. but i loved them lots :3

ok. i sleep on my side with my leg out and switch between that and just on my stomach, suffocating in my pillow. and i never sleep in the silence. like i always have headphones on with music or asmr playing

i changed my name!!! i hated my birthname and the one i chose is much better. it also is the name of my sibling which i knew nothing about so i am basically a psychic

oh god. i reallt like gavins recent studying one annnnd ashers cookies one. and the damn bowling one. im gonna stop before i name 100 of them but i love them because they are so comforting and make me overflow in happiness :3 i love them

sam. sorry.. his videos r so boring to me BUT they make good sleep aids :3

princess and the frog, criminal minds and community. its a problem.

HUXLEY!!! oh my god i need to be his best friend and make him pottery SO bad. need to protect him with my life. oh my god. my beloved.

i talk a LOT about space and dinosaurs and the sea :3 i fucking love learning so i have a lot of lil facts from reading encyclopaedias and watching documentaries :3

oh god it changes every fucking time im in there but recently any flavoured milk and red doritos

amazing world of gumball. and uhh any other kids animation shows. reliving my childhood multiple years later smileyfaceemoji

other important stuff is probably my love language? main one is quality time and also gift giving in the sense that i WILL spend 17 hours straight on something if you merely mention it once. do not tempt me. i am the middle child of 5 but the eldest daughter and basically raised my younger siblings haha somoene help. um my MBTI is ISFP, ihave autism and adhd and have horribly high standards for myself!!! haha c: idk what else to say. i quite literallt am always chewing something and its either something that is definitely not edible and needs to be removed or strawberry gum. i also love fruit. so much. and lovingly bullying people is my love language. AND i apparently exude ‘ginger cat’ energy according to literally everyone i have the pleasure of knowing. so loved.

thank u so much for doing this, this was a mountain of an ask omgim sos sorry bff

You are such a dear- there was so much fun information in your ask for me to work with. Everything you gave me just makes me so sure and brings me such delight to talk about how perfect you would be with David!

One, ginger cat energy combined with big German shepherd energy? Cute as fuck, a match made in heaven. Two, an eldest daughter pairs perfectly with him and his only child/eldest brother in the pack vibes. It’s a lot of responsibility and obligation, I know from personal experience, and being able to chill out with that and just rely on him would be just what you need. Three, David is totally autistic, and we love an A4A couple.

Y’all would generally be just so cute and be exactly what you need in each other’s lives. Type Sixes are characterized as wanting security and support in their lives and relationships, and he heads a security companyyy (/j). Meanwhile you’d bring a joie de vivre and nurturing energy to his home and the pack that would be so appreciated. He’s not the only one who’d love to be around you; it’d be all the Shaws.

Song:

Feeling alive all over again/ As deep as the sky that's under my skin/ "Like being in love, " she says, "For the first time"/ Well, maybe I'm wrong, I'm feeling right/ Where I belong with you tonight/ Like being in love, to feel for the first time

My favorite David headcanon is that a lot of his music taste comes from rock/grunge music Gabe and Juliet (my hc name for his mom) used to play. That is exactly how I know this song, so I think it’s perfect for him. Plus, David seems like the type of guy where that first love is it. He imprints like a duck, mates for life like a penguin; he has you for his first and only love.

Runner-ups:

Vincent would be a cute runner up because he also has ginger cat energy once he dropped that flirty, Lestat-esque facade, so you’d make a fun, chaotic pair. Elliott, I like because I think you’d like a lot of the same things. He strikes me as the type of guy who would love a good Criminal Minds binge.

note: you’ve got great taste in movies and tv Community is one of my favorite shows 💕 also, thank you for being my fiftieth matchup 💌

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌