#how to make lip balm

[stellewriites]

please candle making is so fun look at my first try!!!

so the one on the left has a pink layer at the bottom and also has little hearts all the way through and the right is just plain with dried leaves along the sides and on the top

like i neeeed more wax now to give this another try is was so fun and i want to get better at pouring and mixing colours and doing fancier designs

[e-adlirez]

Treasure Seekers 2 go brrrrr

So this sequel... exists :D

Welcome to the second entry in the Treasure Seekers trilogy that I'm gonna ramble about for the next six hours (in me time, in you time it's probably gonna be like thirty minutes or less), if you wanna read it yourself before reading this ramble, here's an Archive copy. Otherwise, enjoy the ride :D

So our story begins with the Thea Sisters locked in a basement in the dark, with Russia's penchant for matches (and the basement's lack of a smoke alarm) coming in clutch. Seems like another vacation's gone awry for them :3 How could it have possibly turned out this way?

Flashback: so the girls are vibing in Moscow, visiting all the cool sights and all that, Pam is wanting to try some Russian cuisine, when they spot this girl that's wearing what appears to be a barrette that used to belong to Aurora's sister Hannah Lane. They follow her a bit, find a THUG JUMPSCARE, follow the girl, Cassidy and co into the building they're heading into, and oh dear door with passcode is in the way. They find this dood Sergei, explain to him the situation, deal with him being like "who is u, and wth are you on about mate" until they hear a scream and oh dear turns out that girl with the barrette is Sergei's sister Irina and she's in trouble.

Sergei opens the door, they go in, walk in on Cassidy, Stan and Max (who I will from now call SM for simplicity) doing their whole thug jumpscare thing and kidnapping Irina in 4K. SM somehow rolls a high enough strength roll (or the girls roll a low enough initiative) that two roughly intimidating guys successfully trap six people into a basement without breaking a sweat get yourself some self-defense classes girls oml, and that's the end of that.

Luke's up to his shenanigans again, and it seems that he's targeted Irina Lenenko for the same reason the girls double-taked at the sight of her barrette: Irina (and Sergei in conjunction) is a descendant of Hannah Lane, and Hannah Lane may or may not have known a thing or two about one of the seven treasures. It's such a shame tho that Irina doesn't wanna spill any of the tea. What's this about a "queen's jewel"?

Oh also Luke has Aurora's third diary. I would like you to pay attention to this detail in particular. Oh and he's keeping Irina ratgrabbed until she tells them what he wants to know from her. Oh naur

Meanwhile the girls infodump all of the TS 1 LANE LOORRREEEE to Sergei in one whole sitting and finally manage to get around to "what the hell does this have to do with my sister". Sergei thinks it's not really possible for Irina to know anything about great-grandma Hannah's involvement with Aurora, but Irina's still in trouble soooo time to solve this nerdy-ass science trivia keypad puzzle to get outa the basement. Irina's nowhere to be found in the lab itself, so they regroup at Sergei's place to use his phone tracker app on his computer.

Bad news, SM dumped Irina's phone somewhere in the lab so the tracker app is useless; good news, while looking for some Lane Lore™ to get some context about the situation, the girls find some Lane Lore™ :D

-

Turns out Aurora was looking for one of the seven treasures again, y'know just updating her sister on that, who'd moved to Saint Petersburg with her husband Ivan.

Seems like Aurora's quest at the time involved "the queen's jewel", which Aurora said she was 1000% down to ramble about to Hannah, maybe when she's done finding all seven treasures and hiding them from Jan.

I would like to take this moment to remind you that Aurora is a British Amelia Earhart, and if you dunno what that means, look up what Earhart was famous for and then look at this with that given context :']

-

With that lead, the girls plus Sergei take a ride on presumably the Krasnaya Strela night train to Saint Petersburg, read some Lane Lore on the way, Peter-Griffin upon realizing that they spent the whole night reading AO3 fanfics Aurora's diaries and it's like 2AM now, land in Saint Petersburg, stop by Nevsky Prospekt Street to have some breakfast (I think they went to Venezia?), and discussion.

(For the rest of this review, please assume when I say "the girls", I'm including Sergei because Sergei tags along with them and helps them out in their entire journey. It's okay, Sergei may be biologically male but he is an honorary female in our hearts /j)

Aurora mentioned the queen's jewel in her diary, and when you're in Russia, the first queen that comes to mind is Catherine II, so maybe something relating to her? Some Lane Lore of Aurora taking interest in Catherine II's Amber Room in her palace specifically confirms their theories, sooooooooo it's time to go to the Amber Room to see if Aurora left any clu--

The girls are about to walk out of the Catherine Palace to Peter Griffin in private when SM JUMPSCARE--

So SM is stalkin' around the Catherine Palace looking for something, so the girls stalk them back and follow them out of the palace, into a car (the girls called a separate taxi to follow them), and to a little gray building in the outskirts of the city. They don't follow SM into the building because it might be dangerous, but Irina's scarf lying around near the premises confirms that Irina was in fact there and possibly being held hostage in the building.

The girls do a little tactic I like to call "the Ding Dong Ditch": Pam and Nicky knock on the door, SM answers it, do a little Metal Gear exclamation point "HOW DID YOU GET HERE", Nicky and Pam book it so SM chases them, and that's literally how the other girls plus Sergei sneak into the building to get Irina out. (You dunno how badly I wanted to make a videogame reference for this but I couldn't find anything so here we are--)

With that, the girls plus the Lenenko siblings book it outa there without SM being none the wiser (seriously it doesn't even cross their mind that there are more than two Thea Sisters, that's how dum they are). Irina books a hotel room at a friend's place and gives them some extra Lane Lore that she never told Klawitz despite the interrogations:

Hannah Lane was once visited by Aurora unexpectedly, a little after Hannah and her husband moved to a house near the Ob River, in Siberia. Possible lead :3c? The girls think maybe, so they decide to head on over to the exact address in Novosibirsk, Siberia.

In Siberia, the girls cross the frozen Ob River in Novosibirsk to this abandoned little house, where they find this little note with a riddle that talks about Cleopatra and an emerald she had at one point, and CASSIDY JUMPSCARE--

Cassidy busts in, snatches the note and books it away on her snowmobile before the girls can even react. You may be wondering, how the hell did Cassidy get there and know where they were? The answer is the same as the reason behind the SM jumpscares in Russia and in book 1, and that is Luke.

Luke Von Klawitz is doing a little segment that I like to call: Luke Touch Grass, where it becomes increasingly clear that Luke's spent way too much time on 4Chan (/j but you'll see what I mean). Luke hears about SM's failure and facepalms. Then he calls his friend Petrovski, who has access to the database of all of Russia's airports, for help tracking down "six mice leaving Saint Petersburg". Petrovski gives him results in minutes: the girls and Sergei are leaving Saint Petersburg and heading for Novosibirsk, Siberia (most likely Tolmachevo Airport). With that intel, Klawitz looks into his own database of Aurora Beatrix Lane, finds a picture of Hannah and Aurora together, and uses his own version of Google Lens to figure out the exact coordinates where the picture was taken, which happens to be in Novosibirsk, Siberia.

No this man does not in fact canonically touch grass on the regular, who's asking

Anyway so he sent Cassidy the coords, instructions and Aurora's diary to go, and that's how Cassidy walked in on the girls in that little abandoned hut next to Ob River. Only thing is uh, she dropped her purse on the way out. A purse that just so happened to contain Aurora's diary that Luke gave her.

So the girls scoop that puppy up and assume that the treasure is Cleopatra's emerald, thus they think it's in Egypt.

So the girls go to Egypt :D (29 and a half hour flight there good god no wonder they conked out in the plane--)

The girls read some Lane Lore, something about Aurora finding the treasure and hiding it somewhere in a desert, in an "expanse pure and white" that a star compass will lead to. First thing the girls think of at the desert bit is the White Desert (Sahara el Beyda), specifically a spot near Cleopatra's pool, so they leave the airport (not realizing Cassidy is following them now) and head over to a market to buy some supplies because might I remind you, they initially went to Moscow, Russia for vacation.

While in the market, Pam meets a guy named Omar. Pam tells him a little bit about them going to Cleopatra's pool in Sahara el Beyda, and she finds out that Omar just so happens to be an Archaeology major in Oxford University who's here on his summer vacation and works as a guide for Sahara el Beyda, and is more than down to give the girls a tour. Talk about lucky :D

The next day the girls take the scenic route and after a while make it to Siwa, where Omar books a room in a hotel for them, and the girls find this interesting myth there about Cleopatra that I will summarize here:

Cleopatra was once given a jewel that maxes out the owner's rizz and the effect is supposedly indefinite. Cleopatra liked the jewel so much that she wore it on her crown at all times... until she grew a bit self-conscious about the gem's maxxed rizz effect and how everyone kept eyeing the emerald a second too long for comfort, so she decided to hide away said rizz in a spot where none of her rivals could get to it. Oh and uh Cleopatra wrote up a dedication to Ra that's hella cryptic too.

One long rest later, the girls go to Cleopatra's pool on a donkey cart. Yes, a donkey cart. It was Omar's idea. Speaking of Omar, prepare yourself buddy because the girls have dubiously decided to give you some Lane Lore to chew on. O-oh you like it a lot. A lot a lot. Well okay cool, maybe you can help out, cool.

The girls manage to figure out the riddle in Cleopatra's dedication, find a little stone coffer that has the queen's treasure and-- SM JUMPSCARE

With a donkey as the girls' only escape method and Omar having suddenly disappeared, a scuffle ensues where the girls play hot potato with the box until SM gets their hands on it and opens it, and here we get a very accurate depiction of what SM and the girls found in the box once it was actually opened.

Description: a hand made of salt shaped in an upside-down "ok" symbol, circa 1920s-30s.

The sheer whiplash of this leaves both sides of the conflict losing enough HP that they're all on red-- SM is blaming the girls for this (how dare >:[) and dip. Omar is gone, and all the girls get as compensation is the empty box and a letter from Aurora telling them that they'll know to read the hidden clues. The girls head back feeling very hollow and dead inside, and this is the one time one of the girls questions how the hell did SM know they were at Siwa. I mean they never get any answer to this (kinda), but it is a milestone! They're aware of it now!

Once they get back to Cairo, they ask around and find that Omar's completely up and vanished, and they decide they'll just head back to Moscow since their investigation has come to a dead end. On the way, Pam comments about the falafel she bought being hella salty, which leads Violet to an epiphany that hey, the Sahara isn't the only desert that exists, let alone the only desert known for how white it is (like how Boracay Beach is known for how white and fine its sand is, but it's not the only white sand beach that exists). A quick Google search (and a long flight (35 HOURS CAIRO TO SUCRE???)) leads them to the Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia.

Nicky reserves a room for them at Hotel Luna Salada (a real place you can book a stay at actually :D), and they make a friend by the name of Adriana, a local waitress in the hotel restaurant. Adriana helps them pick out a dessert, fills them in on some stuff about the Salar since the girls came here 100% out of impulse, and talks about possible itinerary locations to go to, like the Isla de Pescado, Tiwanaku (the "Gate of the Sun"), Lake Titiaca, and Laguna Colorada. Y'know, typical tourist stuff, and Adriana was so kind to show them pictures she took when she visited said places herself! :D

Anyway so while the girls long rest, Luke is mulling about in his base waiting for updates. Someone calls him about the whole Egypt thing, and Luke calls the girls incompetent? Rude, oh and something about the caller being Luke's "secret weapon". Cassidy calls him on a theory she has about the gemstone being in Cleopatra's palace, and since the girls are currently long-resting (which means they aren't doing anything), Luke figures that a little diving trip in Alexandria to search for the gem with Cassidy won't hurt. Besides, he still has his secret weapon.

Oh yeah and he knows the girls are long resting because he has a drone in Bolivia spying on them and showing him their every move. Touch grass, Luke. No, going on a diving trip in Alexandria doesn't count, there's barely any grass there /j

Morning comes in Bolivia, and the girls head out early to search the Salar as much as they can. They look around the flat white desert, eat some late breakfast, toy around with forced perspective camera shenanigans for a bit, and read up on some LANE LOOORREEEEE

So Aurora's been to Pumapunku and Tiwanaku which is cool, she paid a visit to the archaeological site probably and that's really cool. She says something about hiding the queen's treasure in a fish's stomach covered in very fine thorns. Sergei ends up having an epiphany, and that leads the girls to Isla de Pescado, which just so happens to be "Fish Island" in Spanish, and has cacti on it, it's all coming together :D

Oh and the fish drawing Aurora made is coords to the treasure seemingly so that's cool-- OMAR JUMPSCARE

The girls are very surprised to find Omar joining them, and Omar explains that he booked it when SM came over and lost his cellphone as a result. However, he managed to figure out that Aurora's riddle was about salt and not sand, and decided to head on over to Bolivia since he assumed that's where the girls are going. How did he find them? It was just out of pure coincidence, and also the fact that the girls are extremely recognizable. Hm.

Anyway, Paulina plugs the coordinates into her GPS and leads the girls plus Omar to a little cave at the bottom of a little embankment. The girls find that, lo and behold, there's an old tin box containing a bright green emerald!

Meanwhile Luke is not finding anything in Alexandria haha L, LVK L get dunked on Luke, Cassidy girlie that's not a man to simp for find someone else gurl-- oh dear Luke is alerted that the treasure has been found and now he's planning on heading over to Bolivia? Now how could he possibly know that?

In the meantime, I dunno what's up in the air or if it's the Archaeology major speaking in him but Omar's really invested in this treasure, even more so than the girls to the degree that the girls are a little freaked out by it-- RHEA JUMPSCARE-- Paulina calms the big bord down and gets it to not trample Omar please, he's still a friend of theirs. Colette picks up this blue notebook Omar seems to have dropped.

The girls plus Omar head back to the SUVs, and Omar is really trying to persuade the girls that he should bring it back to Cairo. The girls are not jazzed at the idea because Omar bringing it back alone will be too unsafe, y'know with Luke and Cassidy and SM and all. They gotta think about this rationally-- WHOA OKAY OMAR calm your man tits buddy why are you demanding they trust you like you automatically deserve your trust-- ohh that's how Klawitz has known about the girls' whereabouts, Omar was working as a double agent.

So yeah Omar snatches the box from Colette and drives off in his SUV, leaving the girls in the dust. The girls freak out and are feeling that EMOTIONAL DAMAGE, but Colette for some reason is very calm about Omar booking it with the emerald. And that's because SHE HAS IT :D she did a lil' switcheroo so now the emerald's with her while the box is with Omar.

For context about how Colette knew about this, remember the blue notebook Omar dropped? Yeah that notebook was a company LVK notebook, straight from Luke himself. Then after Colette saw it, everything about Omar became incredibly sus, so she performed this precautionary measure.

So now the girls talk to the local authorities about how the whole thing with the emerald is gonna go down, and soon the girls are waiting for a plane back to Moscow.

As for Omar, well, he goes over to Luke's super-fancy hotel in La Paz, Bolivia, and he hands the box to Luke, explicitly stating that he decided he'd let Luke open it before he himself can appreciate it.

Luke opens the box, and here we see an accurate depiction of what Luke sees.

Description: an upside-down "ok" symbol drawn in strawberry pink lip balm, signed Colette [insert last name], circa 2018.

Luke punts the box (prolly with the lip balm still inside it) into the swimming pool, tells Omar to get out, and that's the end of that. Haha Omar L Luke L

The girls head back to Moscow to drop Sergei off when SURPRISE PARTY BY IRINA'S SQUAD :DDD

Then the girls are about to return to Whale Island to presumably Peter Griffin in their dorms, when Colette suggests they make a journal a la Aurora Beatrix Lane, and they do. In a pink notebook because it was Colette's idea so we might as well give her that

And they take a black-and-white group picture of them wearing adventurer clothes like Aurora would've done. The brainrot is real, these girls are mentally ill /j

And that's the book :D

... Honestly it's the most meh out of the trilogy besides the big-brain bits in the middle and the end imo

The writing was so much more stilted in this one, even for Scholastic standards, and everything feels pretty..... kid's book. Even more so than the usual in the book's English translations. I do readings for the books in some of my Discords, and this book did not read well at aaallll. And I haven't even mentioned the typos in the book (they're not a lot, but they exist, and they're kinda egregious :D) and some grammar errors if I'm remembering things correctly. It might just be a translation thing-- I worry a bit for the translator who had to put this together.

Luke's character here is also kinda wonk? For one we see him directly contradict his anti-friendship spiel in TS 1 since he literally greets Petrovski like a friend (maybe it's a "friendship doesn't exist except in 4Chan" thing, I dunno). Then in the middle of the book, he gets... very Disney villain-y. The most egregious example here is the chapter "Lurking in the Shadows", where as you can see

I am confusion?? Luke has been described as a to-the-point brat who hardly cares for the means to his end (unless it will impact his ability to achieve the end) and is so fixated on his goal that he doesn't touch grass. Is this not-touching-grass behavior? Yeah, definitely, but this??? This is too Disney villain???? Why does the man break into an evil cackle in front of Cassidy???? I understood it in book 1 because man thinks he's doing a "You may think you have outsmarted me but I have OUTSMARTED YOUR OUTSMARTING", but this one?? Maybe it's my personal taste, but it's too cartoonish and too... deviated from what we know of him up to this point.

ALSO TWIRLING HIS MUSTACHE? WHAT MUSTACHE IS HE TWIRLING THAT THING IS NOT TWIRL-ABLE

Also time to address the one big plot hole in this book: Aurora's diary.

So in this book there's only one diary, which is infinitely simpler than the two we got in the first book. This diary supposedly contains Aurora's records of her mission in hiding Cleopatra's Rizzmerald, and the details are supposedly vague enough that Luke felt the need to kidnap and interrogate Irina, a Hannah Lane descendant, to fill in the blanks. However, when you look at the contents of the diary itself (which lord knows how many times Luke himself has looked through it), there's hardly any blanks that need to be filled, at least if you're Luke.

The diary itself is mostly in the background-- like I said, not as much Lane Lore here as the previous book, the girls mostly rely on Aurora's letters to Hannah here-- but there's one specific entry the girls read in the latter half of the book that explicitly mentions Pumapunku and Tiwanaku, and how Aurora is there for her mission to hide the emerald. Complete with coordinates hidden in a little drawing! My one question I have for Luke is, why didn't he go straight to Bolivia and started searching there? Why did he go through all the effort of kidnapping Irina, tailing the girls around Sahara el Beyda, letting SM fall for the salt replica gambit, left his base to touch grass and go on a dive with Cassidy in Egypt; all if he could've just gone straight to Bolivia to look for the treasure there? Sure, Aurora did a good job hiding the coordinates in the fish doodle, but someone as observant and as obsessed about the outcome instead of the journey like Luke would rather have sidestepped all the Aurora shenanigans and beelined straight to the goal if he was able to.

Luke hardly has an excuse here because he owned the diary at the start of the book, and most definitely read through it many times (and we know he's the type to do this, see TS 1). The plot hole is plot hole-ing, it seems :/

Maybe it was just an excuse for the girls to get a giant glowing arrow pointing in the direction of the treasure? It certainly feels like it.

Anyway, the things that carry this book and made it memorable when I first read it (and allowed me to ignore the iffy bits) are the gottems and Omar as a character. Aurora setting up a salt replica of the Rizzmerald as a gottem in a time capsule, only to be opened almost a hundred years later to still be as potent as intended when it was made so long ago? That is amazing, like c'mon, pure comedy material.

Even funnier is Colette doing the exact same thing, only with her lip balm. Luke is quaking in his bougie-ass leather boots.

Now for Omar. This may be a hot take of mine here, but Omar's sus-ness is actually at a decent level compared to the girls and what they usually deal with. On one hand, Omar is incredibly suspicious with how incredibly lucky the girls are to find an Archaeology Oxford major working as a Sahara el Beyda tour guide; but on the other hand, the girls had almost the exact same situation with Diego in Mexico (I didn't mention him in the first review, but he came in clutch in TS 1).

The girls met Diego in Merida, Mexico, and he helped them with their research into "the invisible place", which happened to be Uxmal, along the Puuc Route. Diego also just so happened to be a tour-guide-in-training for the Puuc Route, which was the place the girls just so happened to need to go to find Aurora's second journal.

In comparison, the girls meet Omar in Khan El-Khalili while they were looking for supplies for their trip to the Siwa Oasis. It comes up in conversation that the girls are headed to Siwa, and Omar just so happened to be a tour guide for Sahara el Beyda, which was where the Siwa Oasis is, and it just so happened to be where the girls needed to go. When you stack them up together, it made perfect sense that the girls thought they could trust him-- Diego didn't know much about their trip and helped them the best he could (which was a lot), so why wouldn't Omar do the same? He's an Oxford Archaeology major, too, for crying out loud, the girls struck gold in the end!

Gold that was too shiny and too good to be true. Gold that was, in the end, nothing more than pyrite, fool's gold.

Omar is a good case for why you should be careful with who you trust, and when you should start thinking a little bit when you're getting a little too lucky with the people you meet. When the girls got to know him a little more and decided to trust him and tell him the deal with their trip, he got way invested in the gem-- too invested to not be a little bit suspicious. Maybe the girls mistook it for his passion for his archaeology major, maybe they mistook it for something else-- but whatever the case, Omar pulled the cheesecloth over the girls' eyes and really only fell apart near the end, when his alibis and behavior started becoming more and more suspicious; and by then, Omar didn't need to be as inconspicuous, and the girls had gotten to know him too much to readily say to him "okay buddy can you kindly f%ck off, your vibes are not vibing here".

The girls probably should've been suspicious when Omar reappeared in Bolivia out of nowhere, but I guess his alibi was just good enough (and the girls at this point were probably running on adrenaline, caffeine and a brain on 70% capacity at most) to pass the Deception check.

Fr tho there were some bits where the girls should've found him sus but they didn't (him accidentally saying "I did it" when they uncovered the emerald, and also him handling the emerald the way he did), so shrugs. It could be a translation thing, but it could also be something else.

Anyway, kinda meh for a sequel, but it does have its standouts that allow it to somewhat stand on the same level as the first and third books. Kinda.

Hey, at least it's not as bad as Crystal Fairies-- that's the bar of bad-ness I'm setting. It's not as bad as Crystal Fairies and that's what matters--

Also special thanks to @ishmeowwow (it won't let me ping you for some reason bestie <:[) for making the lil' artworks haha

[furyreblogs]

So I read Reforged by Seth Haddon and then read the first Captive Prince from c.s.pacat right after.

I adored Reforged. I loved every second. I was so just satisfied, content. Bliss.

Captive Prince was tough, it's meant to be a tough read I think, I was gonna give up on it but the few scenes at the end that are more court intrigue focused I enjoyed so I may try the second book literally that last moment where it's oh shit he's wearing armor I was just lets fucking go okay I'll keep going

But man after reading both of these I have never felt more demisexual in my entire life lmfao

[wewontbesleeping]

I haven’t worn a full face of makeup regularly in literal years, and I only wore it twice last year for weddings that I was in. So tell me WHY I just went through everything and while I did manage to throw away like 50% of it, I still was like… well… maybe I should keep this purple eyeliner from 2009 just in case…

[potahun]

i would like to have more furukaza (<- person who has been fed a ton of furukaza by official sources and no longer remembers that kazami is a character that only appeared 4 times in a 1100+ chapter series)

[buckytakethewheel]

heavy in your arms

Summary: Bucky has big arms. And you've been dreaming about losing yourself in them since you saw him for the first time. Inspo: beefy!bucky wrapping his bicep around your neck to pull you flush to his chest while he pounds into you deliciously Pairing: beefy!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Warnings/tags: smut; porn without plot; breath play (kinda); arm kink; chocking kink; silent play; p in v; unprotected sex; praise kink (reader); no use of Y/N Word count: 2.6k Notes: quick drabble i wrote in like two hours because i couldn't stop thinking about this post by @fckmebarnes

You’re not entirely sure how you got to tonight’s events.

You met Bucky Barnes a few months ago in a local market. He seemed lost. Like buying tomatoes and plums from a sweet vendor on the street was the hardest chore someone could do in a lifetime. You approached. He looked uneasy, pulled away. You spoke, soft and tender. He barely answered. American. 

But you saw each other again. And again. And again, on the same market. At some point, you wondered if he would come just to see you. One day, you invited him to your home. You didn’t think he would say yes, but he did.

You know his name. He’s hiding something dark, deep, and he’s got a shiny metal arm instead of a left human arm. All the rest of him is… normal. He’s quiet, quieter than should be comfortable, but you’re okay with it. And his presence in your home comes like a balm. Becomes a routine. He comes over once a week, you make him his favorite soup. He always looks tired.

Then, tonight, something shifted. You made a comment about his arms. His big fucking arms, because, God, he’s muscular and big, so much bigger than you. And you’ve wondered what it would be like to lose yourself in those arms, to have them wrapped around you as he fucked you into oblivion, until you forgot yourself.

You’re both in the living room, and Bucky is the first to reach forward, towards you. He’s careful in his motion, but firm, his body moving with a certain precision. Flesh hand, warm, wraps around your smaller right wrist and tugs you closer, until your bodies are practically touching. Every inch of him on every inch of you - almost.

His icy blue eyes trail over your features like he’s studying you, learning, memorizing. They are directly locked into your own eyes for a moment, holding your gaze, and you think you detect something behind that look, like he’s about to say something, but decides against it. Then his eyes are on your cheeks, taking in the pinkish tone on your skin, and then lower, on your lips. Plump, a little trembling, as if they are begging to be kissed. To be devoured by his own. You don’t need to ask it out loud. Bucky’s memories are scattered across the continents, but the look on your face - the want - that one he recognizes.

His body towers over yours and he starts to lean down, and you still catch the moment he starts to close his eyes. And then, a hairsbreadth later, his lips are pressing to yours. The kiss isn’t tender, isn’t sweet. You didn’t expect sweetness from him, anyway.

Bucky is hungry and he kisses you exactly like a man starving. When was the last time his lips were on someone else’s willingly? When was the last time he felt like his body really was his own? He’s not sure he remembers, but this, right here, your small, fragile body on his - it feels good.

Your lips move together, hard and hungry, and he tastes like alcohol and fruit and the mixture is strange on your tongue but not unpleasant. He licks over your lips, inviting himself into your mouth before his tongue slides past your lips and tastes all of you. His flesh hand is still holding on to your wrist, but when he kisses you like that you moan and instantly, his hand moves to grip your hip tight. Bucky holds you hard against his body, and already you feel the outline of his hard cock through his jeans. Your hips roll forward, teasing, seeking friction, and he makes a noise into your mouth which you swallow like it’s your own.

Bucky breaks the kiss for a moment to search for air, and he takes in the sight of your flustered face. He seems proud of the work he’s done, metal arm reaching up and craddling your cheek as his thumb rubs over the reddened skin.

“You’re beautiful.”, he says, and his voice is rough with desire. You open your mouth to say something, but Bucky catches your lips in another lustful kiss that leaves you breathless before you can get a word out. Then he’s pulling away again. “No, love. No speaking unless I ask you to.” His head lowers and you think he’s about to kiss you again but instead his head dips between your neck and your shoulder and he licks a strip across your neck. Then, his teeth are digging into the skin before he sucks it into his mouth and that elicits another moan from you. His hand on your hip tightens and he groans in disapproval. “No noises either, love. You don’t make a sound. Do you understand?�� You’re a quick learner, because his question doesn’t receive a spoken answer. Instead, you simply nod, your body already slightly trembling under his hold. “Good. Such a good girl for me.”

His words bleed into your ears like acid, burning their way through every inch of your skin, crawling, a brand being placed upon you. Such a good girl for me. It echoes inside of you, and you can imagine that, many moons from now, those words will still be glued to you like they are a part of your core.

Bucky is still kissing your neck, and his teeth graze the skin ever so slightly a couple of times. He’s testing you, testing your restraint. And you provide nothing. Not a single sound, only your eyes rolling into the back of your head, back arching slightly into him. He’s hot and warm and built like a wall - firm, big, his muscles so big they completely crowd your every sense. There is so much of him. Standing tall and strong, the red henley strained against his arms as his muscles flex as he grips you tight. And your mind is spiraling, because you had to be blind to not notice how big he was, but now, this close, you feel so small in comparison, so breakable. And you are sure he could break you if he wanted to. You’re not entirely sure he isn’t doing that, right now, just in an entirely different way.

You almost mewl in disappointment when Bucky momentarily pulls away from you, but you don’t, and he takes notice. You’re being such a good girl, and he’s never been quite this turned on, even though you’ve barely done anything at all. Both his hands move to the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. Then he’s walking forward, and you walk backwards, and somehow, you end up with your back against the couch. Bucky is grinning at you. Not a full grin, no, but a delicious half-smile, confident he’s tearing you apart bit by bit. His eyes are skimming over your torso, landing on your black lacy bra and he can’t help but immediately move his flesh hand to massage one of your breasts, grabbing, the size of it perfect in his big palm. His thumb brushes the soft material of the bra to the side, just enough to free your hardened nipple and he plays with it between his fingers. 

You still don’t make a sound. God, it’s the hardest thing you’ve done all your life - not making a sound when he’s teasing you like this. But you’re a good girl. You can be good for him.

“Love-”, Bucky breathes and he kisses over the expanse of your chest. “Tell me how you’re feeling.” His voice isn’t demanding like the rest of his body is right now, but it’s rough enough to make it clear he needs an answer.

“So good.” 

*

A while later, you’re both naked, Bucky stroking your bare back with his fingers as you suck in a breath.

You are slightly bent over your couch, legs spread, and your arousal is slowly dripping down the inside of your thigh. Bucky catches some of it in his fingers and uses it to stroke his cock as he looks at you. 

What a sight to behold. You, spread out for him. Wanting, needing, not making a damn sound, like he asked you to. The imagery makes his cock twitch in his hand and he has to take a deep breath, slow his thoughts, otherwise he’d be gone before this even started. 

Bucky runs his metal hand over your hip, around the base of your back, so close to your ass, and his touch is reverent, like he physically needs to touch every inch of skin to make this perfect. Then, the tip of his cock is pressing against your folds, and the intrusion is most welcomed. Your hips roll back into him, and Bucky rests both hands on your hips to stop your movement.

“Don’t be greedy.”, he breathes, but in the next second he’s slowly sinking himself inside of you. His cock stretches you out and you grip the edges of the couch hard, so hard maybe you’ll leave nail marks afterwards, because it’s the only way you can stop yourself from making a sound. Sweat coats your body, and his, and his metal arm circles your waist, gently pressing against your stomach to keep you pressed tight to him as he sinks deeper, and deeper, until he’s fully seated inside of you.

Bucky groans and it’s the hottest sound you’ve ever heard in your life. He doesn’t remember any other feeling quite like the feeling of being buried so deep inside of you. Your pussy feels divine, wet and warm, gripping him like a vice. It feels like it’s singing to him, a goddamn siren song, and he will never be able to leave again. 

“Oh, fuck, love- so tight.”, Bucky says, half a whimper, and he gives one tentative thrust. And you feel it then - his body shaking against yours. “Tell me this feels good. Tell me you want this.” Bucky’s pleading, a small contrast to the way he’s handling you, and you let out a soft gasp you had been holding on.

“Please, Bucky, I want you. I want you so bad.”, you respond, and the arousal in your voice is confirmation enough that you’re not lying. “Please, your cock feels so fucking good-”

And then your sentence is interrupted, because Bucky slides his flesh arm around your neck, hard bicep wrapped around you as he pulls you flush to his chest. He uses his knee to lift one of your legs from behind, resting it against the back of the couch, and then he starts fucking into you, thrusts slow, hard, deep, his bicep pressed so hard around your neck that you feel almost light headed. The grip of his arm is not enough to take your breath away, but it is enough to hold you in place, to stop you from moving, from doing anything at all. Anything but moan for him. You’re not sure he wants you to right now, but you can’t really hold it back when his cock is buried so deep, hitting every sweet spot, his balls slapping against your ass in a slow, sensual rhythm that sends you flying.

“Bad girl.”, he moans into your ear, but he doesn’t make a move to stop, and instead, fucks you through it, a little harder, a little deeper. “Making noise when I told you to be quiet.”, he continues speaking, voice hoarse, but his hips don’t snap out of their rhythm, and so you still moan. One of your hands comes up from the back of the couch and you drag your nails over his large arm, the one wrapped around your neck, and his hips stutter for half a second. “Naughty. And I fucking love it.”

He angles his hips better, lifts your leg a little higher with his knee and then he’s changing the pace, his cock driving in and out of you a little faster. The noises coming out of you are pure filth, obscene, and you’re glad he isn’t asking you to be quiet now, because you don’t think you could. Bucky’s lips drop to your neck, and he kisses the soft skin as his metal fingers slide down your stomach and start rubbing circles around your clit in time with his thrusts. He feels you trembling in his arms and he tightens the arm around your neck, keeping you more in place.

“I’ve got you, love.”, he moans against your neck, and his metal hand doesn’t stop, his hips don’t stop and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, along with your moans. “You’re so amazing. Could stay inside this tight pussy for hours.” Your body shudders against him, teeth digging into your bottom lip as his filthy praise makes his way into you. God, you want, need, more of this, more of him. 

But he has you pressed flush against his chest, against his body, and you’re his to take. He doesn’t let you move anything other than your arms, everything else in his total control. And you love it, you’d beg for it if he made you.

His metal fingers fasten the movements on your clit, and the cold metal feels perfect against the heat of your folds, so perfect. Your stomach feels tight, muscles coiled with the pressure of the orgasm that is building right in the back of your gut, spreading over your every limb, expanding and threatening to make a mess out of you. Bucky feels it, feels your walls clutching around his cock and it only spurs him on. His hips snap faster, fucking you with renewed vigor and his lips trail from your neck to your ear, whispering all the filthy things you seem to love.

“Gonna cum so hard inside this pretty pussy.”, he says and you whimper. He responds to that by thrusting particularly hard inside of you. “So good for me. My favorite girl. You gonna cum for me, love? Gonna cum all over my cock? Let me feel you.” 

Your arms are clawing at the bicep still tightly wrapped around your neck, not because you want him to move it but because you need to hold on to something as you come apart, in all senses of the word. “Bucky, I’m so close- please don’t stop.”

He wasn’t planning to. 

And shortly after, he tips you over the edge. You see white, your mouth opening to let out a strangled gasp as your orgasm washes over you and your whole body trembles against Bucky. He whispers soft praise into your ear as you cum, hold you through every spasm and moan, flush against his chest, and his hips don’t falter. He fucks you fast and hard and hot until you’re going limp in his body, and then he thrusts a couple more times, his rhythm broken, before he curses your name under his breath and spills himself inside of you, his seed filling your pussy to the brim. 

For another minute he just fucks lazily into you, like he’s just making sure no second of his or your orgasm go to waste. His arm around your neck loosens up and it seems like he’s about to move it completely out of the way, but you hold on to it. You feel his gaze on you, almost confused.

“Don’t move.” You ask, a little pleading. Your eyes are closed as you try to get your breathing back to normal. “Stay. For a while.”

He does.

For a while.

[frogmisc]

LEAVING AFTER AN ARUGMENT. . . you leave for an unrelated reason after an argument and he panics lads & f! reader

( I. ) first time writing for these guys kinda nervous eeeeeek ALSO what nicknames are we calling the boys? like is it baby, honey, or what cuz sometimes i wanna write dialogue for reader when she calls him and it's not his actual name if that makes any sense? lol

( II. ) send any lads reqs if you want ! i can't guarantee i'll get to them, but i'll try :)

. . .

it seemed like all you did was argue lately. tensions were high as both your schedules clashed, leaving no time for any meaningful connection. he was busy with work, irritated beyond belief as his colleagues continued to piss him off; you were drowning in missions, sorely overdue for some time off. everything you did annoyed him, and everything he did annoyed you.

you came out the shower, clad in your pajamas. you applied some lip balm while your eyes drifted to where he sat in the living room. despite your own exhaustion, you could tell he was stressed and wanted to offer some comfort. but after just one question of are you okay—

"for the last time, don't worry about it." he snapped, his jaw clenching as he attempted to retain control on his emotions.

your eyes narrowed at his tone, swallowing the hurt stuck in your throat as you carefully chose your next words. "i only want to help you—"

"well, you're not. in fact, you're making things worse."

your mouth opened... then closed. you stepped back, shaking your head at the audacity, emotionally clocking out of the conversation.

"right." you muttered, grabbing your phone and keys before snatching your coat off the rack impatiently.

he was so consumed in his own problems and how he would fix them that he hadn't noticed the uneasy silence that followed. he looked up, his discerning gaze scanning his surroundings. he caught the slam of the front door, blood draining from his face. he'd done it now.

🍎 CALEB

"...pips?" he asked the empty room, his voice quiet as if hoping to attract wildlife. the couch creaked as he stood slowly, his heart racing erratically in his chest. "hello?"

when he was met with no response, he ran over to the door. his throat constricted when he didn’t see your shoes next to his. shit. he shouldn't have said that. he groaned and ran his hands over his face. he really shouldn't have said that.

"makin' things worse? really, caleb?" he mumbled to himself in disbelief.

though his hand flew to the door handle, he hesitated to turn it. his thumb tapped on the handle anxiously. stupid, stupid, stupid. every fiber of his being ached to run after you, scoop you up into his arms, and take you back home where you belonged.

a part of him was scared—what if he ran after you and you finally told him to go away for good? he wouldn't do that in a million years, of course, but... he didn't want you to hate him, whatever the reason was. especially if it was his own doing. he couldn't live without you, and the empty house he stood in was a painful reminder.

he thought back to all the times he's brushed you off for work recently, leaving you in his flat with a placating kiss to your cheek. he didn't expect the fleet to demand so much of his attention, and now both of you were suffering for it.

caleb cursed under his breath and shoved his feet into his shoes, ripping the door open and sprinting down the street. he called your name, spinning around on the road to cover his bases, searching for any rustle, scent, or noise that would lead him to you.

"caleb, what are you doing?" you sighed from behind him.

he straightened up and turned, his hopes refusing to sink even after seeing the glare on your face. you just looked so cute in your pajamas and puffy jacket. he frowned, a new wave of guilt washing over him.

"get out of the road, please? and put on a shirt if you're outside—" your lecture was cut short as caleb hugged you tight, worming his warm hands under the wings of your coat and clothes "...what is up with you?" you asked softly, returning the embrace.

he squeezed you tight, savoring the feeling of your skin under his fingers. "i thought you left."

"i mean, i did. i just forgot my headphones in my car—"

"you scared me," he whispered into your neck.

an unbelieving laugh bubbled out of you, put off by his strong reaction. "what—did you think i left left?"

"yes." he whined, standing back and tilting your head up to face him. "you don't ever make things worse, princess. i don't know why i said that—"

"caleb."

"no, you're the only good thing i have left and i—" he choked up, his eyelids squeezing shut. "you don't deserve that. i love you, you know that right? i love you."

"i love you, too." you gripped his wrist, bringing him back down. "our lives aren't easy, and i don't expect you to be perfect all the time. we're both going to get to stressed and maybe annoyed with each other, but... i don't want us to grow apart because of it."

"no, never." he gripped your face with both hands, holding you firmly as if he were trying to communicate his pledge into your skull. "i'll never lash out like that again, pips, i promise. i know you were just trying to help—i'm so sorry." he peppered kisses all over your face until you wriggled out of his arms.

you extended your pinky, an expectant look on your face. he smiled gratefully and hooked his pinky with yours, allowing you to string him along back to bed and into your arms, where he belonged.

SYLUS

he checked the cameras surrounding his home, watching you storm down the pathway to your car. his heart thumped when the car door slammed shut, and he turned off the camera feed to save his thoughts from running wild.

he rose calmly from his chair, abandoning his drink and phone as he paced. ...he shouldn't have snapped at you. your look of hurt and betrayal was seared into his mind. the echo of you persisted even as he closed his eyes. i only want to help.

sylus debated enlisting the help of luke and kieran to keep an eye on you. he didn't want to pressure you to return home if you were upset with him, but he also wanted to be the one to comfort you... for a slight of his own doing... hm. what a paradoxical feeling.

his work required much of his time and effort, as did yours. of course the N109 zone had to act up when you finally found the time to spend the night. his stomach twisted with disappointment. what kind of man was he to put work over the most precious treasure of his life?

sylus gritted his teeth, grabbing his robe and tying it on before racing out the door. his motorcycle buzzed to life as he approached. mounting it with ease, he pulled up the map on his phone to check—

"where are you going at this hour?" you cast him a sideways look, judgement written all over your features.

...perhaps he should have checked the garage cameras before rushing outside with the intent of chasing your car down.

for once, his expression did not reflect his usual collected demeanor. "i... i thought you had left."

you held up your headphones. "forgot these in the car."

"i see." sylus cleared his throat, turning off his bike's engine. he swallowed thicky, choosing his words carefully as he had failed to do earlier. "i didn't mean what i said, kitten. making things worse is something you are not capable of."

you waved him off, turning to retire to bed. he frowned, hopping off his motorcycle and catching your hand, halting your withdrawal.

"i'm tired, sylus." you sighed, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

of me? he thought in a panic, his throat suddenly bone-dry. sylus always had something to say, but in this moment, nothing he came up with seemed right. "what i said was in error. i never want to hurt you, so for tonight, i deeply apologize."

"sy..." you quirked an amused smile up, and his brows furrowed in confusion. "i am really tired. and i imagine you are, too. we're both high-strung, and you're not going to be perfect all the time."

"you deserve nothing less," he argued with a firm shake of his head. his hands rested on your waist, rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

"you demonstrate that to me everyday, but i don't expect that of you all the time. you're human." your hand lifted to hold his cheek, thumb brushing over his skin after he leaned into your touch. "but when we fall short, i don't want us to take it out on each other."

his hand covered yours, pressing a kiss to your palm regretfully. "...i know, sweetie. i'm sorry. i love you, and seeing you walk out today reminded me that you mean the world to me. i would sooner abandon my work than push you away."

"i love you, too." you smiled and he brought you closer to his chest, hugging you as though he were afraid you would disappear.

when the night breeze made you shiver, he lifted you in his arms and tumbled into bed with you, his work long forgotten the moment your soft giggles hit his ears.

RAFAYEL

rafayel didn't look up from his blank canvas after realizing you left, but painting was the last thing on his mind. his knee bobbed uncontrollably, his brush wagging between his fingers nervously.

why did he say that? he always had to have the last word, even when he didn't mean anything that left his mouth. he might as well have said get out, i don't need you, when the truth was the polar opposite.

he heard your car engine rumble to life and fear seized his chest. you weren't—you weren't leaving were you?

rafayel knew his attitude was a lot to deal with sometimes. getting snippy when you were both upset was a recipe for disaster, and he often envied your patience in those instances. he always wondered when you would finally get fed up with him though he never believed it would happen.

until it did, today.

you were one of the few that loved him as he was and he was not letting you go because he let his exhaustion screw everything up.

he let his tools clatter to the floor as he sprung to his feet, speeding to the driveway. he spotted your car and practically ran into it, slamming his hands against the driver's window.

huh? rafayel peered inside but the driver's seat was empty. weird, he swore he heard you scream...

the backseat window rolled down, your annoyed head popping out soon after. "what are you doing?! you scared me!"

he scooted over to the back window sheepishly, his confusion apparent on his face. "what, uh... what are you doing?" he coughed to cover up his quivering voice, resting his arms on the door.

you bent over, searching under the seats. "i'm looking for my headphones. i'm pretty sure they rolled under here somewhere..."

his eyes darted to the front, seeing the dashboard lit and ready to go. "you turned the car on, so i thought..."

"i needed the lights. my phone wasn't enough." you explained hurriedly, then paused. you sat up and stared at him. "...you thought what?"

"i thought you left." he mumbled. rafayel's fingers rapped along the roof of your vehicle that it could've passed as rain. after a moment, he gave into his need to be close to you, opening the door and slipping into the backseat.

"you know i didn't mean it, right?" he began.

you glanced at him, shrugging. "i don't know. did you?"

"i didn't." he said indignantly, but his tone softened when he remembered his goal: apologize, not defend. "i would never mean something like that, cutie. i say stupid things when i'm backed into a corner. that's no excuse, though."

"yeah." you concede, sitting beside him. the soft melodies from the radio made the dip in the conversation less uncomfortable. "you really thought i was going to leave?"

he ran his hand through his hair nervously. "i thought you finally got tired of me."

"raf..." you frowned, your hand reaching to his. "we'll get tired of each other from time to time. it comes with being life partners—there's good days and bad days. doesn't mean we love each other any less."

you pulled his head into your shoulder and he didn't waste any time curling into you, clinging to you like his life depended on it. you could feel his racing heartbeat against your skin, but with every deep breath of your scent, it calmed down. little by little. his hair brushed against your cheek as he nuzzled impossibly closer.

"i know. but as your life partner, i should be making you happier. i'm sorry for losing sight of my top priority." he pressed an apologetic kiss to the crook of your neck. "i love you more than anything."

you smiled, stroking his fluffy hair. "i love you, too."

thomas found you two cuddled up in the backseat together the next morning.

ZAYNE

regret flooded him immediately. he let his head drop into his hands in disappointment, but his shame found him even as he closed his eyes. he didn't give himself time to wallow in self-pity—he got up, grabbed his jacket, and flew out the door after you.

he called your name just as he sees a flash of your pajamas turning around the corner into the garage. keys. he vaguely remembered the jingle of keys—did you intend to leave?

he burst into the garage after you, his breath short as he locked eyes with you over the hood of your car.

you raised an eyebrow but didn't stop moving. you were about to open the door when he grasped your arm, turning your body to face him. his grip fell from your biceps to your hands, lacing your fingers together pleadingly. you looked up in confusion—

"forgive me. i did not mean to snap. you were only trying to help, i know that—"

"zayne—"

"please, allow me to finish. i will never force you to do anything you do not wish to, but i promise i will never let my stress cloud my judgement in a way that makes you suffer. please don't go. i will—"

"zayne," your lips curved into a smile and zayne's brain had to buffer. "i'm not leaving."

he blinked, his eyes darting between you and your car. "but..."

you nodded to the center compartment through the window. "i left my headphones inside."

"oh."

your smile only grew as he released your hands, stepping back to allow you to open the door and retrieve your headphones. you pocketed your stuff and hooked arms with him, a gesture that weighed guilty upon his shoulders. he didn't deserve your affection after he lashed out at you, at least not so easily.

"i accept your apology." you hummed, leaning your head against his arm as he walked you back inside. "i wasn't mad, just... annoyed. we're both stressed out, and stuff like this will happen when we're both in bad moods. let's try not to make a habit of it."

"of course." he whispered. then, even quieter, "i don't deserve you."

you pursed your lips. "i don't like it when you talk down on yourself."

"i know," zayne murmured. "though it's hard not to when you... you make things so easy."

you smiled up at him. "loving you is easy."

his eyes communicated his gratitude, but the way he stopped in his tracks to embrace you said much more. i love you.

XAVIER

shit. xavier frowned, leaning back and peering through the window. he caught you walking down the street, dialing someone on your phone. when you spun around, he quickly let the curtains fall back into place. he didn't know what to do.

he was an idiot, that much he knew. xavier often got short when he was sleepy, but even more so when sleepy and stressed. he never meant to lash out at you, and normally he wouldn't, but... you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. with the sorry state he was in, the next person that talked to him was going to be unfairly assailed.

his palms grew clammy as he caught your voice muffled through the glass. you sounded upset. he peeked outside again, watching you vent. he winced and sunk back into the couch, his mind racing—what does he do? what does he say?

next, he heard a car pulling up to the house. his heart dropped in panic—he whipped around, watching someone park right where you stood. you opened the door...

oh, no. xavier scrambled off the couch, running past his coat and shoes out the door. he called your name as he sprinted down the sidewalk.

"what're you doing, xav?" you gave him a look before you entered the car, keeping a foot on the pavement to stabilize yourself as you climbed inside.

"wait—!" xavier came to an abrupt stop behind you, ready to pull you out if he needed to.

"yeah, that's my boyfriend." you laughed softly to tara. your friend ducked her head to catch a glimpse of him through the open door and waved in greeting.

huh?

"he looks like he's seen a ghost." tara mirrored your odd look from earlier.

xavier shifted behind you.

"he's been out of it all week, you know... working pretty hard." you rifled for something in the backseat, exclaiming happily once you recovered your headphones. "thanks for coming all this way, i appreciate it. have fun on your vacation."

"of course, no problem. think about having one yourself, hm?" tara smiled, honking her car in farewell as she disappeared down the street.

"i—i thought—" xavier took deep breaths to calm himself. "i'm so sorry."

"you thought what?" you asked, stuffing your headphones in your pockets.

"that you were going to leave." he admitted, blue eyes filled with panic and worry. "i'm sorry for snapping at you, you didn't deserve it. you never deserve anything like that, it won't happen again."

you flattened your hand against his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. "it's okay, xav—"

"it's not." xavier's eyes hardened, guilt welling up inside him. why were you being so forgiving?

"i trust you won't do it again. even you seem surprised by your outburst. this isn't you, and both of us know that." you continued calmly. "sometimes the stress gets to us. i get it."

he bowed his head, covering your hand with his own and squeezing it every so often to soothe his nerves. "you could never make things worse. i love you, so much."

you smiled. "i love you, too. let's sleep in? i'll call in if you will."

"yes, please." he groaned with relief, nodding. he intertwined your fingers, swinging your hands between you as you walked back home.

──── love, honey.

[joonieskinks]

simon ghost riley is sometimes a little blunt (warning: smut)

You adore him for who he is, but it still unnerves you with just how blunt he can be at times.

It usually happens privately with just you:

“In about 5 minutes, I’m gonna eat you out.” He says as you are in the middle of The Goblet of Fire on the couch. You almost choked on your popcorn.

Or you’re doing laundry in the morning. “We need pineapple juice next time we’re out, want you to enjoy swallowin next time you’re suckin me off.” Jaw dropped.

He does it in front of the team too- and sometimes it’s even worse:

You accidentally dropped your lip balm onto the bar floor while fishing it out of your purse and bend to pick it up.

“Haven’t seen that angle in a while, dove. It’s been too long since we done doggy.”

It’s a never-ending series of eyebrow raises when Simon decides to open up his mouth and you’re around, needless to say. You brunt all of the embarrassment and the deep blushes, Simon couldn’t give a shit. He didn’t even clock it when John, Johnny and Kyle would all give him shocked looks. Man just owns it. Completely unbothered.

“Youre wearin the skirt you wear when you wanna get fucked. That your goal?”

“Simon!” You hiss, you can feel the red hot heat rush to your face.

But he just stares back at you in earnest, waiting for your response. You can hardly believe how composed he is when his Captain is right there glaring at him.

“So?”

“I need another beer.” John excuses himself, he can’t even look you in the eyes right now. Kyle joins him shortly after making a run for it, but you’re left with a quiet Johnny patiently waiting for you to respond. Eager, almost. Joy.

“You can’t just say things like that in public, especially not in front of your friends!” You lecture, pulling down your skirt in the process.

“Why? If you wanted to fuck, you could’ve just said so, love. Give me 2 to down this pint and I’ll meet you in the toilets, yeah?”

“Simon!” You smack his thigh.

“Can I watch?” Johnny asks excitedly.

“No!-“ “Fine.”

Johnny’s face lights up while yours turns slowly to give Simon a death stare.

“Do you want it or not?” You roll your eyes and throw your purse over your shoulder.

“You two are ridiculous.” And they watch you walk away.

Simon only shrugs, pounding back his beer before coming after you. Doesn’t make a difference to him if he fucks you here and now or at home and later.

“… so is that a no?” Johnny asks with puppy eyes.

[clarabowmp3]

gave the Mac lipgloss a second chance and honestly the primer rlly rlly helps it’s so unbearable without it but even with the primer it doesn’t feel as wearable as rare beauty’s lip balms

[mywritersmind]

LITTLE SISTERS ARE UNKNOWINGLY GREAT MATCH MAKERS - KA12

summary : Girlhood is meeting a younger girl in a bathroom and giving her a friendship bracelet. You happen to get lucky when that little girls introduces you to the youngest driver on the grid.

listen up : no warnings!

words : 1212 (wow that’s crazy)

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“I like your dress.” A little girl says, her voice confident and clearly italian. I smile at her in the mirror before pulling my hands away from the sink and grabbing a towel.

I turn fully to her, her eyes big and brown, looking up at me in awe, “Thank you!” I throw the towel away as she smiles softly, “I like your headphones.” She's in white pants and a black jacket, the bright pink headphones around her neck.

She looks down when I say it, “Bit stupid.”

I shake my head as she backs away from the sink, “Never!” I reach into my purse and pull out my little earplugs that are in a clear case. She smiles at this.

I turn back to the mirror again, fixing my hair and applying my lipgloss. My eyes wander to the small girl who still resides next to me, looking at herself in the mirror and swiping on chapstick.

“You’re a mercedes fan?” I say.

She nods eagerly, pushing her lip balm into her pocket and touching her hat. “It’s my brother's team!” I smile at her enthusiasm, “Are you?”

“Not particularly…” As in George Rusell makes me uneasy and Kimi Antonelli is making me feel unaccomplished since we’re the same age. “I root for Mclaren.”

She seems a bit sad at this, but nods nonetheless. “Do you want a friendship bracelet?” I ask just before she goes to leave. She’s absolutely adorable and definitely a new friend (one i’ll probably never see again) but still, I take one of the beaded bracelets off my wrist and hand it to her.

It says, VROOM, with a tiny beaded F1 car that took me a whole hour to figure out how to make. “Wow!”

I stand up straighter, “I’m Y/n!”

“Maggie.” She says her name quick, her eyes unmoving from her wrist, the bracelet a tad too big. She finally looks up at me again when we both go to leave, “Thank you!”

We walk into the public area, the paddock not crowded for the first time all day, “I’m glad you like it.” I’m too focused on her little eyes lighting up to notice that a guy is staring at us. He pushes off the wall, walking towards us in a far too familiar way. Holy shit.

Maggie says something in italian.

She says something in italian directed to the guy.

The guy who also happens to be Kimi Antonelli.

Kimi smiles at the girl as it all dawns on me. Oh fuck. When she said, ‘it’s my brother's team’ she didn’t just mean that he supports them. She meant he drives for them!

He tugs at her hat so it goes over her eyes as she groans and elbows him, “No wonder you took so long, making friends?”

Maggie nods, saying something in Italian and raising her wrist so Kimi can see her bracelet. He nods, probably not interested but he smiles at her.

Then he smiles at me.

“Did you make it yourself?” His accent is smooth yet his demeanor is still boyish.

I laugh awkwardly, “Uh yeah, sorry I didn’t make any Mercedes ones.” He shrugs it off.

“Black and teal gets boring!” Maggie cuts in, still admiring her bracelet under Kimi’s arm, “I like pink!” Kimi and I look at eachother, smiling at the younger girls' excitement. She clearly gets distracted when she sees an older woman, promptly running away and yelling, “Mama!”

Kimi laughs, not making a move to leave, “I think this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to her all weekend.” He slips his hands into his pockets, smiling at me. Christ he’s cute.

“Honestly she’s made my weekend.” I swipe a piece of hair from my face, “I’m sure she was more excited about her brother’s big F1 debut than a bracelet.” I scoff as he laughs.

“I don’t know…” He looks at Maggie, her hair bobbing up and down as she shows their mom her new jewelry. “Show her pink and she sort of gravitates…”

I smile, “Is she an Alpine fan then?”

He shakes his head, still smiling shyly, “I won’t let that happen.” When I don’t say anything, he sways, “Are you? An Alpine fan, I mean…”

I shake my head, looking down at my light pink dress, “Nah… just hate wearing bright orange.”

He nods, “Oh! I’m Kimi, by the way.”

I hold back a grin, “I know… I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/n.” I think my heart skips a beat when he says my name, “Thanks for being so nice to my sister.”

“No problem, she’s adorable!”

Maggie comes up to us again, “Could you teach me how to make one?”

Kimi raises a brow, “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t just carry beads with her, Mag.”

I blush, “Actually… I do, and I can totally try!”

She runs off again, leaving Kimi and I, “She’s really sweet, though she might not want my help with the beads… I made one and gave up like two hours in.”

He laughs, “She referred to you as ‘pretty girl’ when she told me you gave her a bracelet, so I'm pretty sure she already loves you no matter if you can recreate it or not.” I laugh a bit when he says this, my cheeks are probably already red.

“I remember being like that with every older girl I encountered.” It’s true, every little girl I see I just want to cry because of how much I loved being that young.

“Yeah well she’s got good instincts.” his tongue runs over his bottom lip, “How old are you?”

“Eighteen… you know, my mom found out you were driving this year and made me get a job!” He’s laughing harder now.

“Shit… I'm sorry. What were you forced into?”

“Well, it’s not bad.” I shrug, “I intern at McLaren actually. My mom’s a driver manager.” His eyebrows go up, nodding at my words.

“So you get to travel with the drivers?” He looks almost… hopeful.

I nod, “Basically. I want to work in F1 media so it’s hopefully getting me used to my future.”

“That’s really cool.” Honestly if it were any other teenage boy saying that, I wouldn’t believe him. But something about Kimi Antonelli tells me that he doesn’t half ass anything, even his words.

“Yeah…” I bite my lip, swaying on my feet.

“Hey! Um before you go…” He pulls out his phone, “Can I get your number?” I raise a brow instinctively, “For Maggie!” I try not to frown, taking the phone and typing in my number and name, “And maybe… for dinner sometime? I fly to China right after this.”

I bite back a smile, “That’d be fun, I go straight there after the race.”

I think he’s… blushing? “Right. Well uh… maybe I can convince you that black and teal are right for you.”

“If you take me out and try to convert me from papaya, I will never let you forget it!” I threaten as he starts walking away backwards.

“Yeah I'm planning on that, pretty.” He bites his lip, nodding and leaving. I roll my eyes and walk away, my cheeks pink and my smile wide.

[maskedbyghost]

more possessive!reader and our man Simon? hell yes!

You leave your stuff at his place like it’s your second apartment. Hair ties on his nightstand, your clothes in his laundry. That one lip balm he pretends not to use but absolutely does. He once found your earring on his pillow and sat there staring at it for ten minutes straight.

You correct girls when they flirt with him. Not rudely. Just with some subtle things. “He doesn’t like gin, actually,” with a little smile. “Simon’s more of a bourbon guy.” Meanwhile, Simon’s standing behind you, blinking like a confused dog. He didn’t even know he was a bourbon guy until you said so.

He starts dressing the way you like without realizing it. You complimented his black joggers once? Suddenly, they’re in heavy rotation. Mention his cologne smells good? He’s wearing it to the grocery store. You say, “I like when you leave your hair messy like that,” and now he’s suspiciously tousled 24/7.

You use your phone like a weapon. Screenshotting girls who like his pics. “This one again?” with a raised eyebrow. Sending him selfies when he’s out late with a little “missing you” just to make sure he’s thinking about you.

Simon tries to stay cool, tries to act unbothered. But then you say something like, “I don’t like when other girls touch you,” and he’s short-circuiting. Sitting there all red-eared and tense like his body’s trying to pretend it’s not turning into goo.

You say “mine” a lot. Half-joking. Especially when someone flirts with him in front of you. You’ll just wrap your arms around his waist, smile up at him, and go, “God, you’re so mine,” like it’s nothing, and he eats it up.

He tries to “set boundaries” exactly one time. It lasts approximately three days before you show up looking hot, acting normal, and sleeping in his bed like nothing ever changed. He doesn’t bring it up again.

He gets real quiet sometimes. He just looks at you like he’s still trying to figure out how the hell he got here, with you wrapped around him, calling him “baby” like it’s always been his name. And then he just mutters, “How the fuck did I ever think we were just friends?”

He calls you bossy. You take it as a compliment. And let’s be honest, so does he. You tell him where to sit, when to eat, what show to watch—and the worst part? He likes it. It’s the only time his brain shuts off. Just nods and goes, “Yes, love,” like you didn’t just grab him by the collar and steer him like a Roomba.

You never pretend to be casual about him. You look at him like he belongs to you. Like the very idea of someone else getting his attention is personally offensive. He’ll be tying his boots, not even thinking about anything, and you’ll mutter, “I hope no one tries to flirt with you today. I don’t feel like playing nice.”

You get real smug when he shuts down other women. Like, you knew he would, but it still hits different hearing him say “nah, I’ve got someone” without hesitation. You’ll just smile to yourself and say, “Good boy,” when he gets home—and he’ll pretend to roll his eyes while trying not to get hard.

You don’t get jealous. You get territorial. There's a difference. Jealousy is insecure. Territorial is knowing you’ve already won and still refusing to let anyone look at your prize without remembering whose he is.

And he loves it. Loves the way you don’t play games. Loves that you’re all in. Loves that being with you feels like being chosen every day.

PART 3

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@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6

[sunskisser]

bucky barnes who doesn’t trust unless it comes to you. whose eyes soften at the sight of you, because his heart knows that it’s okay to let his guard down. he believed the world always had its claws out to get him, until he fell straight into your gentle arms. he tells you the word love meant nothing to him until you came along.

bucky barnes who would live for you. the winter soldier would kill for anyone, the white wolf would die for anyone, but bucky would live for you. he’s never believed in fate, but if it wasn't destiny that brought you to him, he doesn’t know what it was. he thinks maybe it was all worth it, the trauma and the scars and the pain, if it all lead up to the moment when you told him i love you.

bucky barnes who searches for you even in nightmares, screams your name till his lungs burn with self-hatred. you’re his safe space, his home. he’s drawn back to wakefulness as soon as he feels your touch, the gentleness of your breath on his skin like an aching balm to his wounds. he’ll never stop apologising for the burden that comes with his affection, yet he won’t ever stop loving you.

bucky barnes who thinks of hurting you as no less than a sin. who believes even pulling out a single strand of your hair is a hundred times worse than every murder committed as the winter soldier. because what’s a few dozen people in comparison to his whole universe?

bucky barnes who wakes up a little earlier in the morning; not to see the sun rise, but to watch the soft rays dapple your face. he thinks you look angelic, the golden hue painting you in so much beauty that he feels blessed; wonders if he ought to start praying to gods he never once believed in.

bucky barnes who tells you he loves you more times than he can count. whose voice is hardened from years of tortured, ragged cries; but the word doll tumbles out of his lips like soft petals when he looks at you. he knows seven different tongues, and is fluent in every single one. he claims that none of them have the words to describe how you make him feel.

bucky barnes who kisses like a hungry dog, like there’s an ache in his soul that can only be filled by the feeling of your lips on his, skin to skin. he believes the sole purpose of his metal arm is to pin you to the wall. roughness is the only form of love he’s ever known.

bucky barnes who buys you everything you talk about in passing, who takes you out wherever your heart yearns to go, who kisses your knuckles with the softest touch of his lips. he inhales when you exhale at night to make space for the rise of your chest. he only ever holds your hand with his non-metal one so as to not hurt you. he traces your features while you sleep. he loves you with the full force of the word, because you’re his girl.

bucky barnes who could never unlove you, would never want to. even if the strings of his soul were tied to another, he would cut them off and run straight to you.

[anantaru]

EX HUSBAND SYLUS

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — ex! husband sylus headcanons

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — fem! reader, oral (fem! receiving), possessive ex husband trope, stalking, voyeurism, pervert sylus, he misses you, hitting it raw, masturbation, fantasizing about you

ex husband sylus who never took his ring off— what he will do instead was pretend he did. to save face in public? for sure. in reality it's tucked away in a drawer— your drawer, the one you used to keep your lip balms and perfumes in as his wedding band lays beside your jewelry. sometimes, when sylus was feeling especially sad, he takes it out and sleeps with it in his palm, mostly when he's feeling lost or conflicted.

ex husband sylus who still uses your name as his passwords and changes them every cycle, frankly, they always consist of things related to you, for example your birthday or favorite pet, most beloved color or nickname he used to call you— one in particular consisted of the coordinates of the place you honeymooned in.

ex husband sylus calls it "muscle memory" when his fingers twitch in that same obsessive rhythm when he dreams about you and the way they used to press against your hips too, fuck, his dream was slowly turning into a particular kind again, eagerly fantasizing on how he used to grip your thighs when he cummed inside you.

ex husband sylus who still watches you, wether it was through mephisto, luke and kieran or when he's got some time to spare himself. he still watches from a distance, not stalkerish in his own eyes— protective if he had to explain it— and well, of course he tracks your location silly, of course he still has access to your security cameras so he always knows when you could be in possible danger. (or when you could be bringing someone else home)

ex husband sylus watches you in agony each night, especially when you're alone— most dearly when you're touching yourself and sylus filthily mouths along with the whimpers you tend to make while bullying your fingers past your hole— fuck, he can practically taste you on his tongue, his teeth sinking into his fist just to stop himself from calling you, just to hold himself back from watching you in such intimate way.

ex husband sylus who wasn't dating, instead, he's trying to feel you again through proxies, through ghosts, yet it's never enough, nothing ever was. and every time he fucked someone else— and well despite it being rare, he's always thinking of you within it, pretending it's your soft cunt he's feeling, fingering someone and saying your name, or getting head while his brain replays the exact angle of your throat and how you adored taking him when lastly, finishing into someone's mouth, then plastering it back onto their face because it just wasn't you.

ex husband sylus who runs into you in public— by chance or "chance" when he immediately plays it cool with his signature crooked smirk and head being slightly tilt, that's how you knew him, casual as ever. regardless, what you do not see was that his hands were shaking and afterwards, he goes home hard, ever so frustrated and fists his cock until he's feeling dizzy, saying your name over and over like a prayer and a curse at the same time. this is when sylus realizes that he will never get over you and you could so much as brush past him, his dick will twitch like it remembers, and obviously it does, it always does.

ex husband sylus who dreams about the filthiest version of you, no matter how many times it's always the same— he fantasizes about you apologizing and sobbing, begging him to touch you again after the divorce was settled and in his dream, sylus doesn't speak, he just pins you down with that glacial calmness inside of him and fucks you deep and rough, until you scream his name the same way you did the night he proposed to you.

following this, when he wakes up at last, there's cum all over his hand and funnily enough, he hasn't even touched himself, in fact, his body doesn't need to anymore, at this point you're carved into his nervous system.

ex husband sylus who sends you encrypted messages, believing that you do not know that it's him. okay, at first you really thought you had gained a new stalker besides your ex husband, considering they came through systems you no longer used— apps you've forgotten, channels buried in layers of old code.

honestly, you think you're dreaming when you hear your old ringtone late at night— but he's there, typing while watching you, bleeding through the digital static like a ghost in the machine.

"you wore the red silk dress last night." "you touched yourself at 2:17 a.m. i almost came just hearing you." "i will never stop being yours."

yes, it's a bit creepy, so you delete them, but they always come back.

ex husband sylus who believes that, well, perhaps you two weren't a good fit on paper, but in bed? fuck, he's never felt peace like that again. on the outside, you were sweet, yes, but filthy, so fucking sexy that you used to ride him with both hands flat on his chest, whispering the nastiest shit into his ears— telling him how thick he felt in your tight cunt or how impossibly big he was, how much you needed his cum or how your cunt ached when he didn't fuck you hard enough, not to mention how full you liked to be of his warm, sticky cum over and over.

sometimes you'd even edge him just to watch him break apart right underneath you, letting him whimper and beg you to be able to spill himself inside your soft pussy. and what happened when you finally let him have it you ask? obviously you'd kiss him slow and open mouthed, your tongue tenderly dancing around his own, "i love you sylus," you whine as he cums untouched from that alone.

after all this time, he's never forgotten that night.

ex husband sylus who still uses your shampoo as your scent lives in his hair whenever he showers. sylus still uses your old bottle— down to the last dribble as his entire bathroom looks like a shrine of things you love— one of your old towels still folded on the rack like you're coming back, like it belongs there, because to him, it does.

ex husband sylus who, when he jerks off— daily, violently, he uses your lotion, the one that smells like your favorite scent, the one his nostrils would pick up on when he was deep into your guts. now, when he fists his cock and heaves out your name, nose buried in the sleeve of your old dress you forgot at his place, he's moaning like he's losing his mind, his cum dribbling all over his knuckles and making a mess only you, in his mind, were capable to clean up with your tongue.

ex husband sylus who's furious that you're letting anyone else fuck you— and listen now, even if you didn't, even if it was just a rumor, sylus seethes just imagining you spreading your legs for someone else's hands, not to mention someone else's mouth. when he comes across the rumor of you finding another partner, he doesn't sleep, he doesn't eat either— yet when you see him again by chance, there's something unhinged in his gaze, not angry of course, but hollow, like the version of him that once smiled has been overwritten with cold calculation.

but all it took was your voice, one tremble, one "sylus…" and he cracks again, immediately grabbing your face and saying, "don't ever make me think you've moved on again," as he suffocates the space between your lips to finally kiss you after all this time, with tears beading his lashes at being one with you again.

this wasn't supposed to happen, originally you just wanted to nod politely and pass him like strangers in a city that once belonged to the both of you, pick up the things you've left in his house and be gone for good this time. yet he said your name— your name, not the ghost of it, not the public version people used, but the one he whispered against your bare skin and suddenly you were trembling like a violin string plucked too hard.

fuck, he kissed you like nothing had changed, like it hadn't been months, like you hadn't signed papers with hands that wouldn't stop shaking now, like your lawyer hadn't had to slide the pen back into your grip, the same grip that was now entangled in his hair. after all, you could still remember when sylus stood across the room and refused to look at you, his jaw clenched so tight you could hear the bones grind.

his mouth still felt the same— dangerously soft and wickedly sure, feeling like memory, yet tasting like sin, as if his regret was set on fire. yet your body responded before your mind could even catch up and process on what was happening— your hands messily in his hair, your nails digging and dragging him into you, your lips parting because he needed to be let in.

you hated him, no, you loved him, fuck, you hated that you still loved him.

he drops to his knees and eats your pussy like he's starving— no prep, no teasing, just tongue fucking you with brutal, obsessive precision. you're gasping his name, thighs shaking around his head and cunt clenching on nothing, yet he doesn't stop even when your knees buckle and your hands fist through his silver hair.

you cum on his face that night, multiple times in fact, because he won't stop until he feels you sobbing, "you taste the same," he drawls hoarsely, wiping his mouth on your thigh, "fuck— you taste like you're still mine," as you're soaking him, messing up his chin with your slick when you're riding his face. sylus pins you open like it's a crime to let you close, eating you out like the only thing that could ever satisfy him was the sound of your wrecked little pussy and the way your slick stained his tongue so fucking nicely.

ex husband sylus who hates condoms now, you barely used them when you were married yet tried to be responsible, although now? he rips them from your hand, "we were married, do you think i care about this?" as he pushes his cock through you in one raw, thick, unrelenting stroke. he fucks you like it's the last time— because perhaps afterwards you might remember that you're still divorced and shouldn't be doing this.

everything that crossed sylus's mind right now was that if he doesn't fill you up, he'll lose you again. fuck, he's angry, but he doesn't know why, or maybe he just wanted to be mad at something— wanted to pretend it's not desperation that guided him, no aching grief that was wrapped in jealousy and lust as he could never forgive himself for letting you go.

in this moment in time, he's inside of you again and it feels like heaven— fucking you like the resentment's burning through his spine, and even though he was still mad, it's lost somewhere within the brutal rhythm of each thrust shattering your body. his hips crash into yours with punishing force as his nails bite deep into your soft hips like he's holding onto something that just kept slipping away.

and the sounds you're making, fuck, you must be joking, the slap of his balls against your ass repeatedly echoing the wet squelch of your cunt receiving his blows again and again— it made it impossible to think, let alone say his feeling out loud. and when he cums? he watches it leak out of you with a look of silent lust before greedily shoving it back in with his fingers, "i want it to stay," he whispers, "i want you so full that you have no other choice but to dream about me."

ex husband sylus who knows you were the only thing that ever calmed him down, the only one who could ever talk him off the ledge when his voice cracks with static and fury and guilt, you were the one that got under his skin and stayed there. but with you leaving? it wasn't just heartbreak, it was a full system collapse and now he's running on fumes as he just wanted to grab you forever, drag you back into his bed and his world, his hell, you could say, and ruin you all over again.

and ex husband sylus didn't want to lie to you, really, didn't want to pretend you had left something inside his house because he hated you, no, he wasn't selfish either, it's not your body he wanted, you have to believe him on that one— but because he still loves you with the sickness of a man who has never known how to live outside of your orbit. the way a dying star didn't simply fall into gravity— it clung to it the same way sylus clasped his arms around you this very second.

ex husband sylus's love was just like that, you see? like something terminal, like your absence alone was a wound he himself repeatedly presses into, over and over, just to remember what your warmth used to feel like.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[biscuitdolly]

୨ৎ the girl with everything in her bag .ᐟ

your ultimate guide on how to prepare a bag for whatever the world throws at you!

( any bag should work ─ you could use a smaller bag or use a bigger bag with heaps of pockets! )

WHAT TO PACK .ᐟ

face/makeup related:

makeup for touch ups (if you wear it!)

spare lash glue (if your use falsies!)

lip balm

lip gloss

mini flip mirror

body, hand and hair related:

deodorant (preferably spray on)

mini perfume/body mist

mini lotion

hand cream

hand sanitizer

nail file

spare pad/tampon

hairbrush and/or comb

hair ties

pencil case:

mini notebook

pen and pencil

eraser

mini ruler

sharpener

highlighter

purse/wallet essentials:

house/car keys

ID

drivers license (if you drive)

credit card

spare loose cash

any useful gift cards you own (make sure they have money on them and that they're not expired!)

misc:

gum

mints

wet wipes

mini tissue pack

a snack

bandages (you can also go the extra mile and make a mini first aid kit, although this is optional!)

if you have braces, a toothbrush and mini toothpaste in a travel case are a must!

[ninisdollie]

more boyfriend Ni-ki with his hyperfemenine gf thoughts (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧

Your boyfriend Ni-ki pretends to judge you for spending so much money in makeup, telling you that you need to save or spend it in something that really worths it, but at the end of the day, he sits through every one of your Sephora unboxings like he’s your assistant. He’ll lay on your pink sheets, black hoodie cap over his messy hair, watching you with a half-lidded gaze as you peel the bubble wrap off your sixth gloss of the week like it’s a treasure. He’ll say things like, “Another one?” or “25 dollars for a gloss is insane” with the driest voice, eyes lazy as he’s sooo bored, but when you flute your eyelashes at him, small smile on your plumped lips, he’s the first to hold out his arm when you start testing swatches.

He lets you paint his entire forearm with shimmer eyeshadows and bronzers and cherry red blushes, grumbling under his breath warning you to not tell the boys later. He even holds still while you paint his thick lips with a shiny, sheer pink gloss, and even smacks his lips together like he’s on a get ready with me video. 

“It’s sweet” he shrugs “Suits you better” and then he kisses you, soft and messy at the same time, the gloss falls from your hand as you kiss him back and fall on your back on the mattress. 

Then a few days later, when you’re stressed because you can’t find your new strawberry lip balm and ask him if he’s seen it, he doesn’t even blink. “What? You have like ten of those” 

“You literally stole it. It’s mine!” he just looks at you, so nonchalant, and goes, “Yeah, but it makes my lips soft. Plus… it smells like you.”

You ended up finding it on his desk. Not tucked away or hidden, just lying there like it belongs next to his wallet and keys. Like he didn’t swiped it from your vanity and started using it like it was his all along.

Ni-ki used to groan every time you said “Just ten more minutes” before a date. He would lean against your bedroom doorframe with his arms crossed and a dramatic sigh, saying things like “How are you not done yet?” Or “It looks good, I’m hungry” But instead of actually getting mad, he started watching you. Watching how your hands moved when you did your eyeliner. How your lip combo needed to be layered just right. How you curled your hair in sections and flipped the ends out naturally. 

And one day, he just… asked. “Which one makes it wavy?” You paused, mascara wand mid-air, staring at him. “You wanna help me get ready?” “I wanna help you get faster,” he said flatly. But you saw the little spark in his eyes.

So you handed him your curling iron.

Your boyfriend Ni-ki watched one tutorial on YouTube from a beauty blogger, and then practiced on a doll head you had from your childhood “just for fun,” but secretly he wanted to get it perfect for you. He learned to section your hair, to twist and hold, to use the glove so he wouldn’t burn his fingers, though he totally did once and blamed you for distracting him by being “too pretty.”

He now stands behind you while you sit on your vanity and do your makeup, tongue between his teeth in concentration as he wraps a strand of your hair around the barrel. You’ll be focusing on your eyeliner and hear the soft click of the iron turning off, then his voice: “Next section.” Sometimes he clips your hair back with one of your frilly pink claw clips, totally unfazed by how cute and domestic he looks doing it. Other times, he hums Enhypen songs under his breath while working, casually asking, “Big curls or soft waves today?”

To be fair, he still says, “You take forever to get ready,” but now it’s while he's smoothing a section of your hair down and checking the back with his phone camera to make sure it’s even.

Ni-ki is one of the most dry texters in the world, but you don’t care that much, because when he’s on tour, he doesn’t say “I miss you” too much, but always comes back with something for you tucked in his bag.

Not big things. Not the kind of gifts meant to impress or flex. But cute things. Thoughtful things. Things that say “I saw this and thought of you” in the quietest way. Like the time he was in Japan, and you sent him a half-joking, half-serious message at 2 a.m. that just said, “Bring me back something My Melody or I’m breaking up with you.” But forgot about it immediately, he didn’t. 

He came home with a little box wrapped in pink tissue paper, handed it to you without a word, and inside were three keychains—Hello Kitty, My Melody, and Kuromi—each one in a tiny outfit matching the city he’d been in. There was also a fluffy pouch with sparkly zippers and a note in his handwriting with pink pen that just said, “Don’t break up with me.”

Or the time that he went to Milan for the fashion week and rolled his eyes when you told him to buy you something expensive. But when he came back, he handed you a pink Prada purse and a silk scarf with little hearts woven into the trim. 

“This reminded me of you. The memory was prettier tho” You punched his arm and he kissed your cheek.

He’s too cool to gush but always notices. Always remembers. He never forgets that you love sparkly keychains and girly pouches and lip balms shaped like desserts. And even when he’s thousands of miles away, he walks through each airport, each city street, each backstage area wondering what tiny, soft thing he can bring back to make you smile. And when you tease him, “You miss me that bad, huh?” He’ll just click his tongue, toss a plushie onto your lap, and mutter, “Shut up. It was cute. And you like cute things.”

Your boyfriend Ni-ki pretends to be soo bored when you push him into your bedroom to try on new clothes. He flops onto your bed like he’s been inconvenienced for the millionth time, phone in hand, legs crossed at the ankle, but the truth is? He lives for this. For the way you light up when you’re in front of your closet. For the way you model outfits for him like you’re on a runway made of pink carpet and perfume mist. He barely looks up when you walk out in the first dress, just gives a quick glance and hums, “Cute.”

But by the third outfit, when the top dips a little lower and your shorts hug a little tighter, he suddenly forgets how to breathe normally. You know what you’re doing. You twirl slowly, hands on your hips, acting innocent. “Too short?” you ask, lifting the hem just slightly to adjust it. He sits up straighter. “You’re trying to start something.” You just flutter you eyelashes. “I’m just trying on clothes.” 

Ni-ki is so whipped for you that he starts biting his lip by the fourth outfit. You come out in a little skirt with bows on the sides and a cropped cardigan that’s one button away from scandal, and he’s already shoving his phone into the sheets and leaning back like he’s trying to stay calm.“Babe,” he warns, voice low, “what is this, a fashion show or a test of my self-control?” You smirk. “Depends. How am I doing?” He drags a hand down his face. “Terribly.” 

He breaks the second you spin around in front of the mirror and bend a little too far while adjusting the neckline, the skirt showing the perfect curve of your ass. He’s behind you before you even realize he moved, hands sliding around your waist, lips brushing your ear.

“You know I’m not gonna sit there like a good boy when you parade around looking like that.” Your outfit ends up on the floor. He never gives his opinion. You both forget you were even getting ready.

Your boyfriend Ni-ki doesn’t just say “You’re pretty” when you’re writhing under him, he says it like a prayer, like it hurts him how pretty you are.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this.” “Look at you… look how perfect you are for me.” “Made just for me, huh? That’s it, baby—show me.”

His voice never raises. It stays soft, reverent, like he’s telling you a secret that only the two of you should know. Even when he’s breathless. Even when he’s deep inside you, thumb brushing your bottom lip while he watches your eyes flutter and roll.

“Such a good girl for me… always take me so well.” “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?” “You make me lose my mind, princess. Fuck—look at the mess you’re making.”

He says the filthiest things while holding your jaw so gently, like he’s cradling something delicate and priceless.

“You’re dripping just from my voice, aren’t you? You like when I talk to you like this.” “You want me to make it worse? Want me to ruin this little body while I tell you how much I love it?”

Because he does love it. Every inch of you. And he says it, over and over, between kisses and thrusts and choked moans.

“I love you so much, baby. So fucking much.” “No one’s ever gonna touch you like this. No one’s ever gonna talk to you like this.” “You’re mine. Say it. Say it again.”

He gets off on your pleasure more than anything. The sound of your voice, the way your fingers curl in his hair, the little gasps you make when he presses deeper.

“That’s it, my pretty girl… you gonna come for me?” “I want you to fall apart, yeah? Be good and make a mess for me.”

And when you do, when your voice breaks and your body trembles and you cling to him like he’s the only thing anchoring you to this earth, he kisses you everywhere he can reach. Your cheek. Your shoulder. Your chest. The side of your neck.

“You’re okay, baby. I got you.” “You’re my princess. My everything.” 

And when he finishes, he doesn’t just roll over and catch his breath after, t’s like the second you fall apart, he pulls himself back together just to take care of you. Because he knows.

He knows that after you finish, your voice goes quiet. Your fingers reach for him, searching without words. You blink slower, lips parted, too overwhelmed to speak. And he knows that’s when you need softness the most. So he gathers you up. Instantly.

Ni-ki wraps his arms around your trembling frame and pulls you into his chest, skin to skin, his hand cradling the back of your head like he’s shielding you from the world. “Hey,” he murmurs, lips brushing your forehead. “You’re okay.” He kisses your temple, your eyelids, your damp hair, even the tip of your nose, like he needs to cover every part of you in warmth. In reassurance. He speaks softly, over and over, even when you’re too tired to respond.

“I’ve got you.” “You’re so perfect for me.” “Still with me, pretty girl?” “I love you. You’re my everything.”

His fingers draw lazy shapes on your back, his legs tangled with yours beneath the blankets. When he feels you start to drift, he kisses your shoulder and tightens his hold. “Don’t disappear yet,” he whispers, teasing but gentle.

And when you finally look up at him with hazy, fluttering eyes and a sleepy pout, he smiles like it physically hurts how much he loves you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and presses his forehead to yours. “Still my princess,” he murmurs, voice low, “even when you’re all messy and dazed like this.”

Boyfriend Ni-ki, who gets up just to grab a warm cloth and clean you softly, slowly, never rushing, like he’s touching something sacred. Then helps you into his hoodie, kisses your cheek, and pulls you back into bed with a quiet “Come here, need you close.”

Because he knows you go small after. And there’s nowhere safer to be small than wrapped in him.

[tojicide]

ABOUT YOU. ♥︎ SYLUS.

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦. it was easy to get lost in the whirlwind of your new roles as first-time parents, and somewhere along the way, you nearly forgot about the other titles you held—husband and wife. tonight, that changes. for good.

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠. fem!reader, husband + dad!sylus, fluff galore, themes of insecurity, pet names, praise, fondling, oral ( fem. receiving ), soft sex, missionary, unprotected, creampie, aftercare. references to his nightplumes card. loverboy sylus is very prominent in this one. 𝑤𝑐. 5k.

𝑛𝘰𝑤 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔. about you — the 1975.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Anticipation and anxiety were two sides of the same coin—at least you think so. 

Your heart pounded against your chest, the sound was a far cry from the peaceful silence that surrounded the extravagant lodge. Only the wind passing through managed to break that found quiet. 

Snowflakes slowly fell from the sky as you stepped out onto the wooden back deck, the brisk breeze threading through your hair in a way that forces a sharp chill down your spine. Goosebumps pricked at your skin, though you quickly cross your arms over your chest to remedy them. 

You were beginning to notice that it was almost too quiet. After all, by this time of night, you were accustomed to only hearing the sounds of your infant’s quiet fussing in between the soft static of the baby monitor. 

This was different. Different because it was the first time you were away from your daughter from the moment she was born, but also because it was the first time you were truly given alone time for yourself. It was a rarity these days, and you weren’t quite sure how to indulge in it. 

However, the quiet, careful sounds of your husband’s footsteps approaching you from behind quickly gave you an idea as to how you could. 

Sylus’s scent served as soothing balm, the rich essense of his cologne accompanied by a smell that was uniquely him wafted through the air around you. 

“Aren’t you cold, sweetie?” he quietly asks you, his hands coming up to run along the bared skin of your arms. 

You briefly glance over your shoulder, covering one of his hands with one of your own. “Hm? No, no… I like the cold.”

The fabric of your dress did very little to conceal you from the elements, though it was a sacrifice worth making in your opinion. It wasn’t often that you had the opportunity nor the time to dress up for any occasion apart from the mock tea parties that your babbling daughter puts on for both your husband and yourself.

“I mean…” your words trail, and you find yourself leaning back into his broad chest. “I know that I’m not exactly dressed for this climate. I just wanted to try and look nice tonight. For you, for this… for… for us.”

His hands smooth over the curve of your elbows as his eyes trace the noticeable bumps that the weather had brought to you. Pressing a longing kiss on the back of your head, he opts to wrap his arms around your shoulders, pulling you even tighter against his chest. “You don’t have to try, sweetie. You look absolutely beautiful no matter what you wear.”

You slowly nod your head, your gaze moving over the vibrant hues of light that emerged from the darkness of the sky. The Northern Lights. Aurora Borealis. It was beautiful, casting faint shadows over your conjoined form as the two of you admired the way the hues blend together.

“I know, I just… I don’t know,” you stammer, knowing that your words must sound like a jumble of incomprehensible words. “It’s been a while since I’ve dressed up for anything, since… since you’ve seen me like this.” 

Your temple is warmed up by the press of his lips, and you find yourself unconsciously leaning into it, earning you another peck. “I just… didn’t want you to forget, I guess.”

“Sweetheart.” All you could feel was his hold tighten on you ever so slightly, lowering his head just enough to brush his cheek against the soft skin of your own. “Do you think I’ve forgotten about you?”

For a moment, you were stumped. You weren’t sure how to respond to that question, even though you had inspired it to be asked in the first place. Everything has changed, and motherhood has had impacts on your life that you weren’t initially anticipating. It was tough and unsure at times, yet so rewarding and beautiful. 

Guilt set into your heart. You hadn’t meant to bring down the mood of your getaway before it had truly started, but you knew that the feelings you had needed to be lifted from your chest. Now was as good of a time as any.

“I don’t know,” you breathe, tilting your head to rest it against his. “I just… I’m afraid that we’ve forgotten about each other. That we’ll never be able to be like we were before. I feel like a mess all the time, I am a mess all the time.”

Carefully, Sylus takes a hold of your chin to give himself access to your eyes. Minutes could have passed, or perhaps it was only mere seconds, but you hardly felt the passage of time with those softened red eyes staring into yours and his hand running along your arm. 

“I don’t think that at all,” he states, his voice still soft yet resolute. “Change isn’t a bad thing, sweetie. Not change of this nature. We’re still learning. It’s only natural that we lose our footing for a small while.”

“You don’t think so?” Your question only has a split second to hang in the air before your words cut it off, and the shake of your head solidifies it. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’m just… overthinking.”

“Then I will over explain.” His thumb brushes along the curve of your chin, his softened red eyes taking in the appearance of you with snowflakes in your hair and on your cheeks. “My heart is so full of you that I can no longer call it mine. For that reason alone, you will never be forgotten by me.”

“But…”

Sylus shakes his head, kissing away your worry with a quick peck of his lips. “There are no ‘buts’ here, baby. There is nothing in this world that could ever drive me away from you, from the family that we have created together. Not busyness, not sleep deprivation, not anything.”

Relief must have been the first emotion to cross your features, because it almost immediately brought a hint of a smile to Sylus’s lips. Overthinking was a habit of yours, one that you couldn’t evade no matter how hard you tried. But he was perfect. When was he not?

“Not even me smelling like baby spit up half of the time?” you tentatively ask, a familiar humor lacing your words. 

He chuckles, the sound a deep rumble omitting from his chest. “Has the scent driven you away from me?” 

Your answer is almost immediate. “No.”

Sylus runs his hand over the back of your head, cradling it in his gentle grasp. “Well, there’s your answer.” He pecks your forehead. “Motherhood has looked good on you from the moment our little sweetie started to grow.”

“Little sweetie?” you ask. “That’s new.”

“It’s… something Luke and Kieran came up with. You’re my sweetie, so by default, she is… little sweetie.” A moment later, he clears his throat. “Don’t go telling the twins that I’ve developed a liking for the name. They may begin to venture out into unthinkable territory.”

You raise an eyebrow and faintly muse, “Maybe we can all call you big sweetie.”

He clicks his tongue with a squeeze to your hips. “You’re lucky there aren’t people around for miles, baby. Having that material in the wrong hands could be detrimental.”

Once again, a comfortable silence falls over the two of you. He unwraps his arms to reach for the zipper of his coat, slipping it off his broad frame to drown you in the thick, warm fabric instead. He smiles to himself, wrapping his arms around your middle once more as he dips his head just enough for his chin to rest on the crook of your shoulder. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, your saccharine voice filtering into the soothing ambiance of the winter night. 

He merely shakes his head, turning just enough to press a soft kiss on the side of your neck. “No need to thank me.”

You knew that he’d never accept your thanks, but you felt the need to say it regardless. His reassurance, his way with his words, his selfless gestures that were unending and unconditional—he deserved to hear that. You knew it. 

Tilting your head up, you can’t help but huff out a laugh that turns to condensation in the cool air. “You have snow in your hair, you know.”

Sylus smiles, raising an eyebrow as he lowers his head once more. “Help me.”

And you do just that, raising your hand to shake away some of the pesty fallen snow that had nestled in his silver locks of hair. You were sure that you would have had some too if he wasn’t constantly touching your head.

With that, he places his hands on either side of you on the wooden banister that outlined the luxurious deck. He rests his chin on top of your head, his eyes reflecting the green and purple hues of light that nature put on for the two of you. 

After a long stretch of peace and quiet, you hear the faint sound of scratching in the snow. When you look down, you find Sylus dragging his finger through the fallen snow on the banister to draw two small pictures. 

“What are you drawing?” you ask.

He smiles, kissing your cheek as he reveals the two semi-finished works of art to your gaze. With his pointer finger, he draws two carets on one of the circles. “A mother kitten,” he murmurs, drawing two smaller carets on the tinier circle. “And her baby kitten.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re silly.”

“Silly?” he soon echoes. Evidently, your habit of censoring your language around your daughter has even bled into your conversations with adults. It was a tooth rotting-ly adorable habit you had that Sylus adored. “That’s an interesting way to describe a man in love.”

Your skin tingles in the wake of his fingertips brushing your hair away from your neck, his other hand coming up to rest on the curve of your shoulder. “Oh? What would a better word have been?”

“Hmm…” He kisses your cheek. “Enamored.” He kisses your jaw. “Smitten.” He kisses your neck. “Besotted.” He kisses the curve of your shoulder. “Lovestruck.” 

A hearty laugh consumes you as you inch away from his ticklish kisses, your hand coming up to rest on the back of his head. “Okay, okay!”

He chuckles too, cupping your chin to turn your head to face him once more. “Though I must say, my original verbiage was the most accurate.” His breath was warm and comforting as it found your forehead, and the longing press of his lips followed it. “I am in love. With you, with the life that we created together, with the life that you have given me. Just… in love.”

Your smile is far too wide to hide now, a sight that threatens to bring your husband to his knees, right here on the snowy porch. “I love you too.” And somehow, your words still paled in comparison to the sweetness of your grin, the curve of your lips and the crinkle of your eyes. “Hey… aren’t you cold now?”

Entirely distracted, Sylus buries his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent that always managed to make his legs feel weak without fail. “Mm-mm. Not really,” he murmurs, one of his large hands curving around your waist. “Not when I have my beautiful wife to keep me warm.”

There was that damn smile of yours again. So gorgeous, so natural, so… you. If lovesickness could be medically diagnosed, he would be the first known patient without a doubt. It wasn’t until you spoke again that Sylus blinks three times in a row, forcing his eyes to meet yours once again.

“Not really isn’t a total no, though,” you simply say.

His thumb brushes away the few water droplets that the melting snow had left on your cheeks that are warm with a blush he’s sure the cold weather hadn’t produced alone. “In that case, what would be your preferred method of warming us up?”

“Well…” you say with a dreamy sigh, turning around to face him and wrap your arms around his neck. “I think I saw a fireplace in the master bedroom when we sat down our suitcases.”

(Correction: Sylus carried and sat the bags down, and you watched with lovestruck eyes as you marveled over how this man could be even more perfect. It honestly worked best that way.)

“I like the way you think, sweetie.” 

In one swift motion, he scoops you up off the deck and carries you to the sliding glass door with one of his arms while his free hand reaches for the door handle. Pulling it open, he walks inside, but he has no clear intent of setting you down.

“Hey,” you say, poking his cheek. “I have two working feet, you know.”

He smiles, kissing your finger while his free hand expertly works at the straps of your heels. One by one, they fall onto the hardwood floor as the two of you make your way to the bedroom.

“I know,” is all he replies with.

“So… why haven’t you set me down?” you ask, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Just because my beautiful woman has two feet doesn’t mean she should be expected to use them,” he murmurs, crouching down to turn on the electric fireplace in the room. “Maybe I enjoy being your in-home transportation service.”

You chuckle. “Is that so?”

He can only nod, peppering a few kisses along your cheek that was now illuminated by the warm lights flickering inside of the fireplace. “It is.”

Sylus takes a seat on the edge of the bed, setting you sideways in his lap as he holds you close to his chest. Your head finds its familiar home on his shoulder, and he tilts his own to lean against yours. 

One of his hands settles on your back while the other runs long strides along your legs, the chilly feeling of his wedding ring gliding along your skin makes your muscles involuntarily tense. 

A nearly silent laugh spilled from his lips, his hand slipping beneath your closed thighs so that the metallic band would warm up. His eyes flit to you, the way your skin glows in the hue that the fire is casting onto the two of you. 

You were a sight for sore eyes. You were so perfect that he was inclined to believe that you could have been a figment of his imagination, a physical embodiment of his deepest desires. But you were here, in his arms. His wife. The mother of his child. 

Every lifetime with you had led him to this moment, and he would do it all over again if it meant that you were his. Because here, in the world that you two created, you were real. You were here. All that he has ever wanted, all that he could ever want—it’s you. 

Tears glossed over his eyes and he hadn’t even noticed. His hand gave your thigh a small squeeze, his head turning just enough to kiss your forehead. “You’re so beautiful.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. “So are you.” After a beat of silence, you turn in his lap to face him. “I’m warmed up now. Are you?”

He nods with a single jerk of his chin. “I am.”

Shifting around, you move to straddle his lap. Your arms wrap around his neck, and his hands settle on your hips. “I think it’s getting too warm in here.”

Sylus chuckles, giving your sides a gentle brush of his thumbs. “Are you suggesting I take you back outside and leave you to the elements? You’ll catch a cold, sweetie. We don’t want that, do we?”

You shake your head with a huff. “No, we don’t. But… there are other ways of cooling off you know.” 

To emphasize your point, your fingers find their way to the buttons of his shirt, slowly and tentatively popping them open one by one. His eyebrows raise, watching your expression as inch after inch of his toned torso is bared to your eyes. 

Curving a hand around your waist, he pinches the ribbon tying your dress together in between his thumb and forefinger. He inches closer—close enough for you to feel his breath on your lips—until he speaks. “Can I?”

Without hesitation, you nod and give him your permission. In turn, he slowly tugs on the fabric, watching the way your dress loosens and how it slowly begins to fall down your shoulders. 

Your eyes meet, and a smile tugs on the corners of your mouth as you notice the rosy hue that crept up onto Sylus’s ears and cheeks. It was something you never got tired of seeing, that blush of his. 

It was almost comical how his eyes lit up the moment your chest was revealed to his hungry gaze, and his fingertips gently brush over the fabric of your bra that covers your nipple. 

“Is this new?” he asks you, giving both of your breasts a firm knead.

You nod, placing your hands on his shoulders as the straps slowly fall down your arms. “Yeah. You like?”

“I love,” he replies, lowering his head to kiss along the valley of your breasts. A low groan leaves his mouth as his tongue laves over your skin, tasting you for the first time in what felt like forever. “I’ve missed these, pretty girl.”

His hands work at the clasp of your bra, undoing it in one swift moment before slowly tugging the garment down and off your arms. A sudden gasp leaves you as his lips wrap around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the pointed peak. 

Your hand snakes up the nape of his neck and into his hair, earning a deep groan from his mouth that vibrated against your skin. You could feel his cock quickly hardening beneath your bottom, the fabric of his slacks doing very little to conceal his more than obvious arousal. 

“Sy,” you whine, your hips instinctively working to grind your clothed sex over his bulge. You needed more, needed to feel him in a way you haven’t in so long. 

His hands latch onto your hips, halting your movements as he presses a faint kiss on your nipple after he releases it. “Don’t squirm,” he states, his voice low and full of command. “I need to take my time with you.”

And you believe him. This far surpassed want for him, this was a need. His need. His tone leaves very little room for argument or doubt, no matter how much you wish it did. Another sound of impatience and need leaves you as he sucks your neglected peak into his mouth, his iron grip still holding you still in his lap. 

In one swift, dizzying motion, he lowers you onto the bed. Your back hits the plush comforter, and he shifts to settle between your legs. He kneels on the mattress, shrugging off his unbuttoned shirt that you had begun to remove earlier. 

His hands then pull your dress down your legs, letting the fabric slip onto the floor near the bed. His lips press to your ankle as he looks down at you, his hands mapping out the skin of your thighs and calves as he hoists your legs up until the heels of your feet rest on his shoulders. 

Blinking twice, you feel a heavy sense of anticipation swirling in your lower stomach. You reach out, hooking a finger inside of his belt loop to try and tug him closer. He doesn’t budge. 

“Sylus,” you whine.

He can only grin, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your inner legs—your calves, your knees, your thighs—until he flattens onto his stomach. “I’ve never known you to be so impatient, baby.” 

You huff, tilting your head to the side. “And I’ve never known you to hold out on me.”

Clicking his tongue, he nuzzles his cheek against the warm skin of your inner thigh. “Holding out? No, that can’t be right.” His voice has a teasing lilt, one that would make you want to say something snarky in reply, but his mouth quickly distracts you from the idea. 

His lips leave soft kisses along the damp fabric of your panties, pointing his tongue to leave light kitten licks around your clit. You squirm, but his grip on your hips returns to keep you in place. 

“I’ve left my poor wife so pent up,” he whispers, ending his sentence with an open-mouthed kiss on your cunt. His fingers hook beneath the waistband, tugging them down your legs just enough for them to dangle around your ankles. “It’s only right I pay you a personal visit.”

And you almost scream when his mouth meets your pussy directly, dragging the muscle up and down to gather your slick on his tongue. He groans unabashedly, grasping onto your thighs to yank you even closer to his hungry mouth. 

He sucks your clit into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks. Your hands fly to his hair, hips bucking off the mattress as much as his grip on your thighs would allow them to. Grasping onto his soft silver locks, you nearly lose yourself when he fucks his tongue inside of you. 

“Sylus!” you pant, thighs pressing in on his head as he groans. “I—I can’t—I’m going to...”

Your warning is cut off by yet another whine, one that his groaning brought on. The hot sensations of his mouth and the trembling vibration of his voice stimulates your sensitive pearl, his words limited to coos of “I know, I know” that force you to come with a particularly hard grasp on his hair. 

All the while, he slows his movements, opting to give you faint licks as you come down from the intensity of your orgasm. A sigh of relief leaves your lips, and your smile returns with it. 

Kissing your mound one final time, he crawls up to meet you once more, his forearm bracing his weight as he towers over you. He chuckles as you bring your hand up to wipe away the wetness on his chin, prompting him to capture your wrist and kiss your palm. 

And when your hands then run down his toned torso to reach the belt of his slacks, a strained laugh leaves him. “Ah. Do you still feel that I’m holding out on you, sweetie?” 

“No,” you answer, undoing his belt and popping open the button of his trousers. “I just want to feel you.”

Sylus smiles, his biceps tightening up as he lowers himself just enough to leave a longing kiss on your lips. “I can do that for you, baby.”

As he begins to undress, all you can feel is a ball of nerves settling inside of you. You haven’t been intimate in this way in what felt like years, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little nervous. After all, much has changed since the last time and…

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, as if he had noticed the worry set into your beautiful face. “Sweetheart,” he softly whispers to snap you out of your thoughts. “I need you and your beautiful mind to stay with me. Can you do that?”

Sucking in a short breath, you nod your head. “I can do that.”

Kicking away the last of his clothing, he settles in between your parted thighs once more. “Spread your legs a little more for me, there you go.” 

His hands map out the dips and curves of your body, settling back onto his forearm beside your head while the other runs along his aching length. He runs his tip along your folds, gathering your slick for lubricant. And then, he slides his arm beneath your back, holding you firmly against his chest. 

“Hold onto me,” he murmurs, his breath hitching as the head of his cock catches your entrance. You listen, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

His cock slowly nudges inside of you, stretching you open with a sense of familiarity. Your nails dig into his back, leaving red welts in your wake. He keeps his movements slow and steady, easy rolls of his hips to fuck you long and deep, letting you feel every inch of him. 

“Feeling alright, sweetie?” he asks you, peppering soft, reverent kisses along your jaw and cheek as he begins to find a steady pace. 

You quickly nod, one of your hands delving into his hair. “Yes,” you breathe, clenching around him like a vice. “Feels so good, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“I’ve missed you so much, pretty,” he whispers, kissing your skin from your cheek to your jaw to your neck, his plush lips brushing against you in time with each snap of his hips. “You feel so perfect. I love you. I love you so much.”

His mouth finds yours in a sloppy kiss, one that was messy and disorganized but undoubtedly perfect. A whirlwind of whimpers and gasps leave the both of you, but the feeling of your thundering heartbeats pounding against your chests is what grounded you both. His hand next to your head strokes over your hair while the other grasps onto your hip. 

“I love you too,” you say against his lips, your nails on his back, holding him impossibly closer to you. 

One of Sylus’s hands shoots up, grasping firmly onto the headboard in an attempt to hold himself back. He needed this to be perfect—for you, his perfect wife who only deserved his best. 

You can feel the way his back muscles contort in the new position, prompting you to grasp onto him even more. “I’m close,” you manage.

His fingertips dig into the wooden frame enough for the sound of splintering to rip through the air, but Sylus pays it no mind. His attention is on you, the softness of your eyes and the parting of your lips. 

And when you clench around him and your sweet sounds fill the air, he knows that holding back is no use. It’s impossible. His pace staggers as he chases his own orgasm. Tensing up inside of you, you feel the way his seed floods inside of your inner channels, filling you up with the proof of his undying love for you.

For a long moment, all you can do is hold each other close. You breathe heavily into each other’s warm skin, exchanging stolen kisses and the smallest of smiles. 

Sylus finally releases the headboard with a huff, prompting you to tilt your head up and look at the damage. A gasp leaves you, your brows furrowing together. “Sylus!”

His eyebrow quirks up as he follows your gaze, finding that he had, in fact, splintered the wood under his vice-like grip. He sucks on his teeth, turning to face you again. “It’s alright. It’s just a… happy accident.” 

“A happy accident?” you echo, watching as he makes his way over to the en suite. “This bed frame probably cost a fortune.”

When he returns, he has a damp cloth in his hand and both of your bath robes. He settles between your legs once more, carefully wiping up the mess that he had made of you. “Mm-hmm. That it did.”

You raise an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

He shrugs, wiping himself clean before disposing of the cloth in the laundry hamper. He then wraps you up in the silken robe, following suit for himself. “Because I bought it just for us, sweetie.”

A gasp of surprise leaves your kiss-bitten lips as he scoops you up into his arms and walks you both towards the kitchen. “You did? But…we’ve never even thought of staying here until now.” 

“When we first started dating, I ensured that the furniture at each of my properties was well equipped to handle two guests,” he states as if it were obvious. “Though now, I should begin the furnishing process again to make plenty of room for three.” 

Your smile widens. “You’re such a softie.”

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

The following morning, sunlight cut through the maroon curtains that drape over the gaping windows of the bedroom. You rolled over onto your side, only to be met with Sylus’s back. 

Your eyes finally crack open, your fingertips slowly tracing over the scratches that you had left behind last night. Then, you snake a hand around his waist. He places his hand on top of yours to give it a lazy squeeze. 

“Good morning, sweetie,” he says, his voice still thick with sleep. 

“Good morni—”

Your voice was cut off by the sound of Sylus’s cell phone ringing on the bedside table. With a groan, he reaches out, tapping on the pesky green button to answer a call from Luke and Kieran. 

He winces at the sound of their loud and excited voices, rolling onto his back to throw an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. 

“Boss!” their voices cut through the speaker at the same time. “We came up with something that has little sweetie cracking up! Wanna hear it?”

“Go ahead.”

“Watch this, watch this,” Luke says into the receiver as if Sylus could see their escapades through the voice call. “Your mommy is the original sweetie, you are the little sweetie, and you daddy is the…” His voice cuts off for dramatic effect, before it blares through the speaker once again. “Big sweetie!”

You find yourself laughing at the sound of your daughter cracking up over the line, evidently having a great time with Uncle Luke and Uncle Kieran and their jokes that only an infant could find humorous. Sylus glances down at you with a glare, as if he were silently asking you a question.

You shake your head. “What? I didn’t tell them anything.”

𝑛𝘰𝘵𝑒. not that anyone asked but i’ve been working on my first series on this app and i’m motivated to write for the first time in forever :,) it’s for love and deepspace (of course) and it revolves around caleb. i’m lowkey nervous to post thoooo i might try and get a few beta readers to see if it’s any good. anywho thank you for reading, rb/comment if you enjoyed <3

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