#nowhere: above below and beyond

[abloomsdayy]

flower trivia

[lilianne-tarot]

Pick-A-Card: If They Could Speak to you, This Is What They’d Say…‎✧˚₊‧

I know many of you are carrying unanswered questions from someone who disappeared, whether they ghosted, blocked, or drifted away. Just because they’re silent doesn’t mean they don’t feel something. This reading will reveal what they feel now, what they wish they could say, and the truth behind their silence. If you’ve been searching for closure, this might be exactly what your heart needs. This is a timeless reading.

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

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જ⁀➴PILE I

Cards pulled: 10 of wands, the chariot, knight of pentacles, 9 of wands, 5 of cups.

Omg, lovely, I can already feel the weight of this situation. Your person is literally carrying the weight of regret on their back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they go about their day pretending everything is fine, but the moment they’re alone? Boom. The reality of what happened between you two slams them like a truck. This disconnection is heavy for them. There’s guilt, sadness, and this exhausting feeling of, “Did I seriously let this go? Did I mess this up beyond repair?” They’re haunted by what went down, but instead of dealing with it, they’re burying themselves in responsibilities, work, distractions, ANYTHING to avoid facing their own emotions.

And can we talk about the 9 of Wands real quick? Because this is telling me that even though they feel all this, they are STUBBORN AF about actually doing something about it. Like, they’re standing behind this emotional wall, peeking out every now and then like, “Should I reach out? Should I say something?” And then immediately retreating like, “Nah, can’t risk getting hurt again.” It’s this push-and-pull energy where they miss you like hell but are too scared to face what reconnecting would mean. It’s frustrating because I can FEEL their emotions bubbling under the surface, but their pride, fear, or past pain is making them act like they don’t care. They care. A LOT.

Are They Still Thinking About You? Oh, 1000%. This person might be hyper-fixating on work, hobbies, or even other people as a way to convince themselves they’re “over it,” but the gag is… they are NOT. This was a lesson in emotional growth, resilience, and learning to let go of what isn’t serving you. This wasn’t just a random breakup or separation, this was divinely orchestrated to push you BOTH into a new phase of life. Whether that’s healing, self-worth, or realizing that love isn’t meant to be this exhausting, this situation was meant to wake you up. The universe was like, “Okay, I’m gonna rip this band-aid off because y’all clearly aren’t doing it yourselves.” For them, this disconnection was supposed to teach them how to actually process emotions instead of avoiding them. For you? This was a test in knowing your own worth and not waiting around for someone to figure out theirs. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already outgrown this situation in some ways. Like, you’re looking back and realizing that this person’s emotional immaturity, avoidance, or inability to take action was something you deserved better than.

Because right now, you’re The Chariot. You’re the one being pushed forward by the universe, stepping into your power, and realizing that you don’t have to keep carrying the emotional weight for someone who won’t even acknowledge theirs. I feel like if there’s a reconciliation, it’ll be one of those moments where they show up out of nowhere, suddenly ready to talk, but you’re already at peace with how things played out.

At the end of the day, bestie, the choice is yours. Do you want to wait and see if they finally grow up emotionally? Or do you want to fully step into your Chariot era and say, “If they wanted to, they would.” Whatever you choose, just know you are NOT the one who lost here. they are. The universe didn’t remove this person from your life to punish you, it did it because you deserve someone who isn’t emotionally constipated. Whether this person ever steps up or not, you’re already on the path to something bigger and better. Don’t let their slowness keep you stuck when you’re meant to soar. Period. 

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જ⁀➴PILE II

Cards pulled: 2 of cups, empress, 4 of cups, 3 of wands, 8 of wands

Let’s start with the 2 of Cups + 4 of Cups because, this is a whole messy situationship in their heart. On one hand, they KNOW what you two had was special. Like, deep down, this person still feels so connected to you, there’s love, attraction, and this magnetic pull they can’t explain. BUT, instead of embracing it, they’re in a situation which is like, “Ugh, I don’t know what to do with these feelings, so I’ll just pretend I don’t have them.” Make it make sense. This person is giving emotional avoidance at its finest. They’re sitting there thinking about you CONSTANTLY, yet they’re also refusing to act on it. Why? Pride? Fear? Stubbornness? Check, check, and check. This person is SO in their feelings, but they’d rather stare at their phone in silent suffering than send that “I miss you” text.

If you ever doubted your impact on this person, let me tell you right now—you are THE standard. The Empress energy is giving “no one else compares”, and trust me, they feel that. You weren’t just another person in their life; you were a whole universe, comfort, love, beauty, growth. They looked up to you, even if they never said it. And now? Now they’re sitting in that misery like, “Wait… did I actually fumble them? Did I just ruin the best thing I ever had?” And babe, the answer? Yes. Yes, they did. Instead of owning their feelings and reaching out like a normal person, they’re watching from the sidelines probably lurking your social media, let’s be real. It’s like they’re waiting for you to make the move, but at the same time, their ego is screaming, “No, don’t do it! Stay mysterious and suffer in silence!” The duality is strong.

Do they still think about you? LOL. the cards said said, “Let me be so serious right now.” YES, bestie, they think about you ALL THE TIME.

The 3 of Wands tells me they’re waiting, but for what?? A sign? Divine intervention? A carrier pigeon with your message? SERIOUSLY, this person has a very princess energy ( i mean it sarcastically🫠)  It’s like they’re standing at the edge of a cliff, looking out into the distance, wondering if you’ll come back, BUT THEY WON’T MAKE THE MOVE. They’re definitely thinking about reaching out, but they’re terrified of rejection, of things not going how they want, of you realizing you deserve better (which you do, btw). This person is itching to talk to you. Like, the urge to break the silence is REAL, but their fear of vulnerability is holding them hostage. They want that fast, passionate, “let’s fix this” conversation, but at the same time, they don’t know how to start it. So instead, they overthink, procrastinate,

For you, this was about realizing your worth, stepping into your Empress energy and knowing that you don’t have to chase love or beg for emotional availability. You’re learning that if someone isn’t showing up fully and completely, they aren’t worth your energy. For them? This was a harsh lesson in what happens when you take something beautiful for granted. They had the 2 of Cups connection in their hands, and instead of nurturing it, they let their own fears, ego, and hesitation sabotage it. Now, they’re left staring at their phone, wondering why it feels like something’s missing. (Spoiler: It’s you.)

It depends on them. The 8 of Wands is the biggest clue here, IF they find the courage to reach out, this could move FAST. Like, once the dam breaks, expect texts, calls, maybe even some dramatic love confession energy. BUT, and this is a huge but, are they actually ready to show up for you the way you deserve? Because if they come back with the same inconsistent, emotionally avoidant energy, then babe… NEXT. 

The universe didn’t make you go through this pain just for you to settle for half-assed love. If they step up, if they come back genuinely ready to make this work, then cool. But if they’re just coming back because they’re lonely and miss your warmth? You already know the answer.

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જ⁀➴PILE III .

Cards pulled: temperance, queen of swords, 3 of swords, death, lovers

Omg, buckle up, bestie, because this reading is major. Three out of five cards are Major Arcana? Yeah, this isn’t some casual, “Oh, we drifted apart” situation. And I’m already getting chills.

First off, yes, this person still thinks about you. Like, a lot. But here’s the twist: their thoughts are a mix of regret, self-defense, and straight-up emotional exhaustion. I’m seeing someone who’s torn between wanting to reach out and knowing that doing so might just reopen wounds they aren’t ready to face. This is giving heavy "I messed up but I don’t know how to fix it" energy, mixed with a sprinkle of "but also, am I even ready to?" vibes.

Let’s talk about the situation here, because ouch. This was not a simple falling-out. This was heartbreak in its purest form. Whether it was betrayal, a painful truth, or just the gut-wrenching realization that you two couldn’t continue as you were, this was an ending that HURT. The kind that still lingers, even if you try to act like it doesn’t. And the thing is? This connection had to break apart. The universe literally forced this transformation on both of you. Death isn’t just about loss, it’s about endings that lead to major rebirth. Whether you wanted to or not, this separation changed you both. This person sees you as someone who’s balanced, mature, and, dare I say it, lowkey intimidating. Like, you’re in your healed era (or at least you seem like you are), and they don’t even know how to approach you anymore. There’s a sense of, “Would they even give me the time of day?” but also, “I know I need to be on my best behavior if I even think about coming back.” It’s like they know they can’t play the same games or bring the same energy they did before.

And The Lovers? Whew. This is deep. On a soul level, this connection was REAL. Like, cosmic contract, past-life, meant-to-be-a-lesson kind of real. Whether that means “meant to be together” or “meant to change each other’s lives” is another question, but the bond? Unbreakable. Even in separation, you two are still energetically linked.

So, what’s the truth they’re not saying? I’m getting that they regret something big, possibly a choice they made, something they said, or maybe just how they handled the situation as a whole. But their pride (or fear) is stopping them from admitting it. There’s also a level of stubbornness here. Like, they don’t want to come back unless they’re sure they’ll be received well. They don’t want to be vulnerable unless they know it’s safe. Why did this happen from a higher perspective? Because, bestie, you needed to step into your power. The Queen of Swords isn’t here by accident. This situation forced you to set boundaries, demand better, and step into your own clarity. You’re wiser now, sharper, and honestly? You won’t tolerate the same nonsense anymore. The universe was like, “Let me remove this person so you can actually step into the next version of yourself.” And whether they realize it or not, they were also meant to learn something from you. They may not have grown as much as you (yet), but your impact on them? Unforgettable.

So… reconciliation? Here’s the thing: It’s possible, but it wouldn’t be the same. If they were to come back, they’d have to be a whole new version of themselves, and honestly? You might not even want them anymore once you fully step into your power. This isn’t about waiting around for them, it’s about knowing that you’re on a completely new path, and if they can’t meet you at your level? That’s their loss.

Final advice? Trust this transformation. Even if it hurts, even if you miss them, know that this ending was a divine redirection towards something so much better. Whether that means a renewed version of this relationship or a completely new chapter, either way, you’re leveling up, and that’s the real takeaway here.

Sending you all the love, bestie. And remember, you’re THAT person. Don’t let anyone make you forget it. ✨

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog, it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hii could you please write upper moon 0 reader ((like just above Kokushibou and just below Muzan))abusing their power to (consensually) fuck the other moons lower than themself? Any character of your choice

Dom!uppermoon!reader x sub!kokushibo - reader is gn

Word count: ~3.7k

Warning: teasing, calling Kokushibo an old man, handjob, marking, nipple play, dacryphilia, men whimpering <333, mention of blood (little bit)

AYOOOO??? *rubs my hands together and giggles like some pervert* I think I picked the most difficult character for no reason-

This was ridiculous, nothing more than a joke. He was the one who received the most blood from him, he was the one honing his skills for centuries. So obviously he was supposed to be the strongest, second to none but that man alone.

Then how did you get here? Appearing out of nowhere, causing an uproar in the ranks. You were only a few decades old, too green behind the ears for your position, not to mention too obnoxious and childish. At the same time you were undeniably talented, climbing the ranks like nothing, surpassing others whose had way more blood than you, eaten way more people. Surpassing even him.

It reminded him much of a certain other person, which was not helping your image. How was this even possible? Is this what pure talent and sheer luck looks like? He was frustrated beyond words, and to some degree, he envied you. Jealous of how a snobby kid like you could have beaten him by miles, taking his rightful place next to the lord as one of the strongest. No, never, he wasn’t going to be satisfied with third place.

That mentality of his paired with his disapproval of you is what caused your current situation, it was the root of this shaky relationship.

“Hey, old man! You’ve gotten better since last time!” You commented in a sarcastic manner, sitting down on a fallen-over tree trunk. That indolent tone of yours again, you had no respect for your elders. On the other hand, you were stretching your body and twisting your wrists, as if you didn’t even get to warm up, eyes sneakily darting to the demon in front of you.

A man with long hair and a slightly torn purple kimono was kneeling on one knee a few meters away from you, his grip shaking around his weapon. “…but you might wanna work on your endurance, I can’t work with that.” You smiled innocently, jumping to your feet again. With leisure steps, you walked closer to him, grabbing his chin and making him look up at you.

His six eyes all glared at you, a red glow of fury radiating off him. You weren’t intimidated though, maybe you were when you used to be a lower moon, but not anymore. “After experiencing it firsthand, no wonder I managed to become an uppermoon so soon. You bunch are weaker than I expected.” That taunting voice of yours, paired with that mocking smile, you really knew how to provoke someone.

Kokushibo grabbed your collar and lifted himself up, “really, you should learn when to shut up.” You let him do it, not resisting while asking, “hmm? What’s gonna happen if I don’t listen? What, you gonna fight me?” An uncontrollable series of laughter escaped your throat, “and you always stressed the importance of respecting the ranks~!!”

His fist clenched around your clothes, and you smirked once you noticed it. Your words were getting to him, despite his indifferent facade. Good, how fun. You had him exactly where you wanted, any second from now he should— “let’s have another duel.” —aha, there it is. “Well that’s certainly not a problem, but I’m kinda getting bored over here.” You slapped his hand away, then straightened out your clothes, “I mean, why should I keep wasting time here? It’s not like I get any benefits.”

No matter how annoying you were, and how much he hated to agree with you, you were right. Since he just lost, it was pretty unreasonable to wish for another duel so soon. “What are your conditions.” Kokushibo said in a low voice, still glaring, not bothering with keeping a calm facade with you anymore. He brushed off the dust from his shredded kimono, which revealed little snippets of his muscular form, ranging from his biceps to his abdomen.

“If I win…” You crossed your arms in front of your chest, then pointed at him with your index finger, “I want you to do whatever I want for today~” judging by the way your voice got higher towards the end, you were clearly enjoying yourself. How irritating. Its to be expected that you are a little screwed. A normal person- demon -wouldn’t be able to climb the ranks like you. But he still agreed to your condition, because his priority was to beat you and have things return to its original state. “I accept.”

This poor thing and his inferiority complex, his vulnerable little heart with that frail ego of his.

You weren’t sure what he was expecting, considering you’ve just beat him a couple minutes earlier. While he was a tough opponent, who improved drastically in a short period, it wasn’t enough to sweep you off your feet. The result was set in stone the moment he agreed. A part of you was actually hoping he did it on purpose, because he wanted to know what you’d do to him. Though obviously that was just wishful thinking, there’s no way this man would do that.

No matter how often he lost, he’d never get used to the humiliating feeling, the awkwardness that followed. Especially now, since on top of losing, he owned you something. Maybe he shouldn’t have made that bet, he kept thinking, but he was too stubborn to back out now. “What do you want me to do?” Kokushibo sighed, eventually facing reality and lowering his head with a scorn. You couldn’t hold back a smirk and said, “first, promise you won’t get too~ mad.”

He knew he promised, well, you basically forced him to, but still. For him to run out of patience and get angry so soon, only you were capable of doing this to him. “You are shameless.” The male groaned with furrowed brows, his wrists straining against the rope tied around it. You could see him tensing his muscles, did he hate it that much?

All you did was tie him to the bed and loosening up his kimono, positioning yourself between his legs. Maybe slipping a hand underneath his clothes to grope his chest, it’s not your fault he looks so inviting. The rope was already making snapping sounds, even though you told him to control his strength. “Geez, and why did I went through the trouble of learning bondage again?” You clicked your tongue in disappointment, but untied the rope.

“It was a stupid idea to begin with. Why do you even want my body?” Kokushibo frowned, trying to sit up, thinking you finally gave up on your goal. But you grabbed both of his wrists instead and pinned them over his head, “what kinda question is that? Isn’t the normal conclusion that I find you attractive?” You chuckled a little, as if surprised by such a naive question.

He flinched when you suddenly yanked his arms up, and asked in a rather hesitant voice, “wait, why are you still..?” You tilted your head to the side, acting a little cheeky, “what, you thought i was done? I haven’t done anything with my price yet.” A moment of silence passed, all he did was focusing his eyes on you, in search of any hints that you were joking. There was none, despite you smiling brightly.

“…you still want to keep going?” The way he couldn’t even fathom the words that came out of his own mouth. Just, it was too out of place. I mean, you- with him? Have you always had such intentions towards him? “Kokushibo, you are acting as if you’re an old man. Oh wait, you are.” You teased, pulling at the waistband of his pants. “Ah- wait��” he felt a weird tingle spread where your fingers touched his skin, he brushed it off as him being irritated.

Seeing him so embarrassed at the smallest exposure, you decided to do him a favour and simply slipped your hand inside. At the same time, you whispered sickeningly sweet, “just relax, alright? I will do my best to make you feel good too.” The hand that was clumsily messing around finally found a starting point, and was slowly caressing his inner thighs. You didn’t need to probe long to find out he was muscular, not that you doubted it for even a moment.

“Say…” with a little more assertiveness, you pushed your head into the nook of his neck, mumbling against the part of his neck right under his ear, “won’t you allow me to?” About half of his eyes were closed and the others half-lidded, but he was definitely avoiding your intense gaze. How did you say such things with no shame while keeping eye contact? He gulped loudly, bawling his hands into fists above his head, “now you are asking…”

“Hmm? Don’t want to?” You tilted your head, to mutter directly into his ear, blowing air at the shell. The man flinched at the notion, and he groaned, “I already agreed since you won… what more do you want?” Such a temper, he was acting more like a cat than a demon. “Let’s see, how about you being honest with me?” Without any warning, you let go of one of his wrists and brought the other one to your lips, placing a kiss to his palms.

“You-!” He jumped at the sight, finally looking at you again. Never in his pretty long lifetime has anyone behaved like this towards him. At this point, he didn’t even know what he wanted. It was only because of the bet, that’s the mindset he had when he entered this room at least. But would he have the same one when he leaves? “…I’ll tell you when I hate it.” And that was it with the eye contact, with his pupils rolling to the side again. Seriously, what was so interesting about starring at walls?

“So you are tolerating it until then?~” you sighed, acting as if you were hurt. While he was distracted by your acting, you wrapped his arm around your neck and leaning down to pinch his cheeks. “Don’t be shy. Tell me, doesn’t this feel good?” You clasped your hand around his half erect dick, measuring him with your fingers. For no particular reason, you just wanted to keep your hands busy. He hiccuped at the friction and twitched, unable to keep his hips under control. “HnnG..?! Ahh…”

Gosh, his moans were really addicting. You almost lost your reason there. Moving the hand on his face a little to tilt his head, making him look up at you. “Tell me, kokushibo.” Hearing you say his name like that felt strangely foreign, you were really putting your all into this. He clenched his eyes shut as his blush darkened, squeezing out a quiet, “feels good..” What a relief it is that he doesn’t know the power his voice has over you, that little confession was enough to make you beam with delight. “Seriously, why do you keep seducing me~?”

Seduce??? He couldn’t even argue with you before you suddenly pumped him up and down, causing him to jump a little. “Ugh..!” After getting his consent, you weren’t holding back as much anymore. Pulling his pants down to reveal his groin without a second thought. His arms clawed at your back instinctively, and despite him expecting this to happen, he couldn’t hide how ashamed he was.

“My my, you are pretty wet down here.” You commented, noticing the way he kept leaking precum. Soon it covered your entire palm, and you used it as lube to spread it evenly around his sex. “Haaah… what do you mean wet…?” Ah- right. This man, even if he looks young it didn’t mean his mental age is the same. But explaining it would kind of ruin the mood…

“I mean, look how much’s comin’ out.” You rubbed his tip, turning your hand around as he shuddered, arching his back off the bed. Once you were satisfied with the amount of pre you’ve collected, you proudly displayed it in front of him. He shot one quick glance at the thick fluid coating your fingers and squeezed his eyes shut, whining out a “stop that.” For some reason, you felt offended by his reaction, responding with a “why do you look disgusted? This came out of you!”

“No need to shout it.” One of his hands moved to cover his face with the back of his palm and he clenched his teeth. Really, what were you going to do with this overly sensitive man? “Aren’t you hard to please.” You rolled your eyes, but ended up giggling over it. “Fine I’ll stop.” In return, you moved the hand on his cheeks down to grope his firm chest. The texture was softer than you expected, considering it was pure muscle.

After uttering that, you wrapped the dirtied hand around his shaft again, and jerked him off slowly. Due to the awfully slow motions and the fluids, it created filthy squelching sounds that bounced off the walls. His breath hitched at the sudden rush of pleasure, and his toes curled into the bed sheets. The way his chest heaved and his breathing quickened was too cute, not to mention his melting expressions mirroring the bliss he was experiencing. “Ah- ahhh…” even the way his lips parted was cute, what to do?

You noticed how his hips were jerking, dick twitching in your hand. That, paired with the erotic view laid out before you, manifested your desires even more. It was as if you were in a trance, unable to peel your eyes off him, staring at him like a hunter at its prey. His hair was spread out on the bed so beautifully, and you were ecstatic to see his body tremble with pleasure. You subconsciously quickened your pace, wanting to see more of his debauched state.

“Hnngh,,,Y-y/n, wait.. ah, just- s-slow down… a bit..” he had a troubled expression now, cheeks flushed red as he clawed at your back, trapping you in his arms. When the burning sensation in his core didn’t stop but intensified instead, he accidentally dug his nails into your skin, leaving behind some scratch marks. “Please, y/n…” the male begged in a gentle tone, lowering his head as the embarrassment finally got to him.

Isnt this the first time he used your name? …haha, this isnt fair, he moaned out your name in such a lewd manner, who wouldn’t fold instantly. This time you were sure, if he knew the power his voice had over you, he’d win every competition between you two. You chuckled awkwardly and mumbled something under your breath. He couldn’t quite catch it, because he couldn’t focused on anything else but the drag of your hand across his dick. The agonising tingles that made him go mad, the warmth and comfort of your touch.

“Nghhh- mhm!!… y/n, y-y/nnn…♡♥︎” he slurred over his words, hands fisting and pulling at your clothes. All these sensations were too much for him, the last time he felt anything remotely similar to this was when he left home. No, even then, it was never this stimulating. The way his entire body was like on fire, shaking with the overwhelming amount of raw arousal flooding his senses. Every single touch, every sound of your voice was messing with him.

You swallowed the lingering hesitation down, and circled around his nipple with your index finger. It didn’t take long before it hardened, quivering shamelessly. All while you moved the other hand up and down his sex. The more noise that movement made, the louder and more frequent his moans got, and it all mingled together into a lewd melody reserved for your ears only. It seems he knew how loud he was, because he suddenly bit down on his bottom lip, enough for it to swell and bleed.

“Now now, don’t hold back your voice. I wanna hear you callin’ my name for everyone to hear.” The vibrations of your voice tickled his sensitive skin, and he turned his head to the opposite side, granting you more access to his neck. His heart pounded in his chest, skipping a beat at the thought of others hearing his pathetic whines. Causing him to react with sealing his lips shut with more fervour, body flinching at every seductive spell of yours.

“I thought I told you to call my name? Aren’t you gonna do it, kokushibo?” You asked, placing gentle kissed from his jawline down to his collarbone. Not enough to leave marks, you wanted to take it one step at a time. “Come on~” you placed your thumb on his slit and rubbed around his tip, ending up with him leaking even more.

He tried to clench his thighs together but to no avail, it was as if his muscles couldn’t respond to him. Going limp under your actions. “Y/n…” he eventually groaned out. After hearing him say that, you bit down on his shoulder, leaving your first visible claim. Though he could heal it in a second, you still loved the thought of leaving bruises on him. “Good boy.”

Muffled groans and whimpers spilled from his sinful lips, his brain was too mushy to function coherently. Everything was too much for him to handle, and he felt tears streaming down his face. From the upper eyes to the lower ones. It was quite the weird feeling, so he blinked the tears away, trying to control his sobbing as he chirped, “y- hnNghh…! Y/n..?” How could he let himself be ruined and reduced to such a pathetic mess? Breaking down in tears at such an insignificant thing, letting you take charge like that…

The way his tone drifted off to being unsure and questioning was so adorable, you basically grinned from ear to ear. “Look at you, crying so prettily. It hasn’t been that long since we began.” He must have been so touch starved, to become such a cute mess because of a handjob, that was the downside to being at the top. You finally flicked and played with his nipple after teasing the surrounding area for so long. He cried out like it was the last straw of his sanity breaking, turning him into nothing more but a blabbering wreck.

“Ah-arghh…, I ca-can’t.. haah, urgh..! I’m close, y/n, p-please..” where did he learn to plead like that? It gave you goosebumps due to how erotic it was. “Aww, gonna cum? Go on, let it all out~” you kissed him, using his shock to your advantage and sticking your tongue inside his mouth, tasting the faint metallic taste of blood. At the same time, you fastened your pace on his cock, making him shudder and wither into the kiss. He continued to weep, to hold onto you desperately while he squirmed around, wriggling his hips as if he wanted to escape the pleasure. Your tongue fumbled around with his, drinking up his moans.

Though muffled, your ears picked up the bits that did seep out, and he was chanting your name like a prayer, just as you wanted. His eyes were glazed over and unfocused, sweat and tears were now mixing with drool as well. And the blush crept onto his cheeks has spread like a pest, to his ears and shoulders, as well as his chest. Slowly, he felt the strength leaving his limbs as the ecstasy threatened to consume him whole. He’s been teetering on the brink of release for a while now, the building anticipation was agonisingly slow. “Mhmmff- uhhh, hmm~!! ♥︎♥︎♥︎”

Suddenly, his back arched off the bed, and his nails dug harsh enough for your skin to tear. You pulled back once he started choking, and he immediately lunched at you, to hide in the nook of your neck. “Haaa-hah, hnghh- hmmff…” that’s when he caught you off guard by biting into your shoulder to keep his voice down. “You surprised me there.” You flinched before running a hand through his long hair, stroking him. The wound was nothing serious anyway.

“Haaah… y/n, y/n, ooOhhh, y/ny/n y— hmmnfff~~♡♥︎♡” he moaned out one last time as his release washed over him. Soon a sticky white fluid spurt out of his aching dick, coating the entirety of your hand to the point of dripping down his own shaft. It pooled around his pelvis or flowed all the way down his thighs. Once your hand separated from him, strings of cum connected the two. Even after cumming, he was breathing heavily, mumbling your name softly while catching his breath.

You slowly guided him through his orgasm, cooing at him, “good job, such a pretty thing, aren’t you.” His body was still shivering in the afterglow, but he managed his breathing pretty fast, and thus the hiccups got better. It didn’t take long before the high washed off, and while he was still disoriented, he was already starting to feel ashamed again. Pulling back as he tried to blink away the shame. This was so humiliating, how could he cry in front of you- At least his crying stopped now.

Then he flopped back onto the mattress, turning his head to the side to hide it behind the fluffy pillow, as well as using the back of his palm to cover his face. A few minutes of silence passed, where he was busy shorting out his thoughts. He really did that kind of thing… with an inexperienced brat like you… “a-are we done now?” Once he was certain he could speak coherently again, he spoke up. “Well…” in the meantime, you’ve spread his legs apart and used the cum-covered hand to reach to his backside. “…it’s time for me to have some—“

Before you could end your sentence, you noticed him drifting off to a peaceful slumber. “Kokushibo? Hey, kokushibo??” You rubbed his cheeks, wondering if he really just passed out like that. “…hah!” You couldn’t hold back your laughter, one orgasm and he’s knocked out cold? Hilarious. “I told you to build up some endurance, old man.”

[cheol-e-kat]

HEYYYY!! If you don't mind can you do enemies to lovers or the tentacles for mingyu. Thank you and have a great day

hehe so idk why but this one was hitting with me today and it’s uhh maybe a little more fluffy but still hope you enjoy - also i know you said OR…

♡ kat

bingo squares: enemies to lovers + tentacles

pairing: k. mg x f!reader

word count: 3.7k

summary: working with mingyu is distinctly frustrating, even when you find out the secret reason he is so fast at everything

genre: magical realism au, fantasy au, monster au, tentacles!mingyu, coffee shop/ tea house au, enemies (rivals) to lovers, workplace au

⚠︎ rating: 21+ / explicit / MNDI ⚠︎

warnings below cut

warnings: explicit language, mind reading, tentacles, tentacle sex, penetrative sex, slick, cum inflation, belly bulge, cervix fucking, overstimulation

mingyu was too perfect. literally. he had been made ‘employee of the month’ for the last three months. you had never actually been employee of the month, but still, who was he? 

regardless, what actually annoyed you, besides his fake smile and the annoying way he flirted with literally everyone, was the fact that he had all but taken over the opening shift. that was the thing you couldn’t stand. 

the morning shift was your oasis. it was the perfect time of day to go through and clean up all the messes that brenda managed to make before closing, and you could reorganize and setup and just all the things you actually loved about your stupid job. it was the little happiness you had carved out for yourself - and he was fucking ruining it. 

because mr. perfect-kim-mingyu appeared from nowhere and wanted the opening shift. and initially, you had to give it up because you had a new schedule and really early classes. but now you were back to normal. and you wanted your preferred shift back. 

but when you went to ask him about it, his normally smiling face disappeared. 

“i think it works better this way,” he said, voice flat and his tone coming off as if this were some final decision. 

you rolled your eyes in response. “there’s new guidance - it’s a two-person shift now,” you tried to sound reasonable even if he seemed to be staring straight through you. 

he shrugged, “yeah, well ‘guidance’ sounds like it’s open to interpretation to me.”

and then he just walked away. which was fine, because the new shift requests were open, so you listed yourself, right next to his name. and you got the time that you wanted, despite what he thought. 

and that was all great, until the first morning you walked in. everything was already set. you stared around, completely annoyed because it was your job to at least help. and while it was commendable, it was weird as fuck behavior. and kind of frustrating. 

the only conclusion you could reach was mingyu hated you enough to show up early, do the job of three people (if you were being accurate - he went above and beyond), and just stare at you smugly from behind the counter while he sipped whatever nightmare coffee he had whipped up. 

“see, i really don’t need help,” he quipped. no greeting, nothing, just straight to ‘you’re not needed.’

you sighed, “it’s not a competition,”—

he cut you off, “no, actually i think it is because i told you i was fine and you pushed anyway - so now, i want to make it very clear that i do not need your help.”

“it’s a corporate thing, mingyu - that isn’t how it works - they don’t care that one person in one location managed to do this,” you were trying to be reasonable and grasping for all the straws because he kind of made you want to smack him - just one good, solid smack across his very symetrical face. 

he shrugged, “maybe i can change their minds.”

you stared blankly, “what is your problem?”

he raised an eyebrow, “i don’t have one,” he answered quickly. 

“right, you just hate the idea of working with me so much that you’ve done all of this to prove to everyone i’m bad at my job,” you groaned, exasperated. 

it was too early for this. mornings were meant to be drama free. 

he watched you for a moment, “i didn’t say you’re bad at your job - i just happen to be more efficient,” he responded, his voice had less of an edge. 

you nodded, “right, okay - whatever - i’m going to clock in and sit in a corner, and you can take all the orders and tips - whatever,” you were done with this conversation. 

it was great to have someone to help with a shift, but someone who took over and refused to listen to anything you had to say was something else. it went on like that for weeks, even when you moved to a later shift, it always felt like he was there to point out why you were wrong about anything, up to and including how the bathroom toilet paper was installed. 

you finally just stopped talking in group meetings, because what was the point when mr.know-it-all, smiley face was there to field every question anyway. 

it was almost nice in a way to just step back, focus on classes, and forget work. it was just a coffee house job anyway. and it wasn’t like anyone missed the special tea blends you did. plus, who cared just how bad brenda was with the blenders anyway. in fact, you were fairly certain she was getting worse by the day somehow. but you didn’t need to worry about cleaning up those messes - mingyu had it covered. 

or so you thought, until you got a text from your boss, jerry, asking that you rejoin the opening shift because he felt like mingyu was getting overwhelmed. you tried to gently suggest you weren’t the best person. and he was not accepting that. 

so you found yourself, once again, going in early. but because you hadn’t really slept that well, you went in earlier than you needed to - you weren’t going back to sleep anyway, what could it hurt. 

you were wearing headphones, mumble singing fleetwood mac to yourself, barely paying attention to anything until you walked into the prep area to see mingyu and …and what looked like a million little vibrant blue snakelike things all around him, holding various pieces of equipment and washing and organizing and the longer you stared the more it started to sink in that all the little snake-y things were part of him. 

you blinked slowly, wondering if this were a dream or side effects from your meds or just the general lack of sleep you dealt with. but no, they were there. 

you were quiet. you thought of backing out of the room, out of the coffee house, just going back home and hiding under your covers. maybe quit too - send jerry a super fast “nope, i’m out, byeee” because this seemed like an excellent time to quit. 

mingyu was watching you though. he didn’t move, and neither did any of his extra appendages. he stayed exactly where he was. it was possibly the most ridiculous stand-off. 

you couldn’t help yourself when you spoke, “so, is this the part where you kill me?”

his eyes got huge, “kill you?” he sounded confused. 

you nodded, “yeah, you know that’s what happens in every sci-fi show - someone finds out someone is uh,” you waved your hand at him, “you know not what they appear and then they - they you know - die because you can’t have someone walking around knowing things, right?” you laughed nervously - he would definitely kill you - he already hated you, right?

you kind of wanted to scream, though. but you didn’t because it was maybe the most innocuous scene. he was just cleaning things, not like feasting on a freshly killed body or something. 

he rolled his eyes, sighing loudly, “why would i kill you? even if you told someone, who would believe you?”

you nodded, “fair point,” you mumbled, “okay, but why is jerry saying he thinks you need help? when you seem to have a lot of help…” you trailed off, still feeling wary.

mingyu shrugged, “probably because,” he shrugged again, like he knew but he couldn’t be asked to share. 

you rolled your eyes, “seriously? i think we’re past the point of not sharing,” you glanced again at his little blue helpers - no wonder he got so much done, you decided, almost marveling at the constellation of tiny assistants he seemed to have. 

you wanted to poke one. they looked a bit slimy, but for some reason you felt like they probably weren’t. you resisted the urge, knowing it was probably really rude. plus you had attended enough hr training seminars to know touching a co-worker was just not okay. 

he groaned, “can i just get back to work? like go play some game on your phone or something,” you were surprised to hear him sound even the tiniest bit distraught, even amongst the obvious annoyance. 

smug, haughty, condescending, perky - sure - those were the only tones he ever had when talking to you. distraught…never.  

you bit your lip lightly, wondering if maybe a pet had died or something. and wondering if ‘aliens’ had pets - you had no idea what to consider him, but the tentacles weren’t exactly human. or maybe they were - your mind conjured up some image of a laboratory where the whole goal was to create super heroes for coffee shops? your imagination was failing you quickly. 

you sighed, “can i help at least?”

he shrugged while he viciously mopped a corner. you nodded, knowing the answer was a resounding ‘no, fuck off.’

you found yourself going in the back and shuffling around with the various tea ingredients - your preferred drink, actually. you considered briefly that he might be allergic to something, but you waved off that feeling. you came back out with a blend that you thought might be helpful, even for whatever he was.

he had virtually finished everything while you had been gone. he was sitting at one of the tables, looking a bit sweaty and worse for wear. all of his little friends were gone - he just looked like his normal self, so a cute gym bro with a small man-pony.

“is it okay if i join you?” you were really trying to be nice but coming across as stilted and weird. 

he nodded, so you sat, and gingerly scooted the cup of tea towards him. he glanced at it. 

“if you’re trying to drug me, it isn’t that easy,” he traced his index finger around the rim of the tea cup. 

you didn’t answer, even if you detected the smallest amount of sarcasm from him.

he groaned, “so this is like that extra stuff jerry says you do - part of why he likes you here for opening,” he stared at the cup and glanced quickly at you. 

you shrugged, “i mean it’s a thing i do - i don’t know that it’s exactly anything notable, though.”

he rolled his eyes, and after a few moments, finally took a sip from the cup. you waited for him to say something asinine. some comment about how the flavor wasn’t balanced. 

instead, he slowly drank it all and whispered ‘thank you,’ when he was finished. and then he was back up, doing fifty things at once. you went back to the tea room and stayed there. it was one place he seemed uncertain about. 

and that was your new routine. you came in, barely acknowledged mingyu’s whatever-they-were and just stuck to making the tea selection that was on for the day. it was an easy routine once mingyu and you seemed to get used to one another’s presence. 

what you weren’t used to was when he would randomly pop in and look around sheepishly before asking if you would make something for him.

the first time it happened, you had been wearing your headphones singing along, poorly as fuck, to dreams - humming along with ‘what you had and what you lost’ and you turned to see him practically filling the doorway with his six foot, huge, boy body. 

you yelped, “what the fuck - don’t do that!”

he glanced around, “there’s literally no one else.”

“and your point? i’m in here singing badly, oblivious to the world - plus i don’t bother you while you’re doing your thing out there” you pouted - it was really that he had heard your shitty singing. 

he watched you for a moment, “so, you probably wouldn’t be willing to make whatever you made for me last week?”

you stared for a moment, “you mean the thing you thought i was tying to drug you with?”

he groaned, “so funny, y/n - for real though, would you?”

you watched him, trying to figure out an ulterior motive, “fine, okay - now, get out,” you mumbled, turning back to what you were doing.

the problem was that once you made it the second time, he kept coming back. always leaning against the doorframe, and asking in his nice, soft voice if you would ‘please’ make the tea for him. but it was also that he seemed different when you were even behind the counter together - instead of saying snarky things to you, he was nice. cute even. 

it was absolutely weird. because what happened to the mingyu who seemed to constantly take issue with you - this new upgraded version was a little concerning. especially when he started brushing against you randomly. like when you were super busy and things were hectic and jesssicaaaa was upset with how her name was spelled and you maybe envisioned throwing whatever was within reach in her face, and you felt his hand gently brush your arm, as he stepped between you and the soul sucking banshee you were ready to fight. 

it wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate that he was willing to handle unhinged customers, but it was the way it made you feel. because it almost made you hope for all of the insane customers to queue up at once just so he could stand in front of you and block them out with his wide shoulders and blinding smile. and because you maybe wanted to lean against him and know exactly how his laundry detergent smelled. 

you had to put an end to that though, which meant staying in the one place he still seemed to have trepidation over, which was the tea cupboard. you came in, gave him and his little blue friends a wave, and then fully hid. because even if he asked for tea, there was something about the room that seemed to keep him just outside the doorway. it was like he was a vampire and you hadn’t invited him into your home.

for all you knew he was a vampire. 

but the holidays were ramping up and avoidance was becoming less and less of an option. brenda got added to the morning shift, which meant there were only a few blissful hours of quiet before she came in to work her particular brand of violence on every blender available. 

and just a few days in, she was elbowing you, “why is he moody again?”

you glanced at her, “who?”

she gave you a judgmental look, “who? the only ‘he’ here,” she practically hissed, and then sighing, “mingyu,” she whispered, “he was all cute again until a few weeks ago.”

you were trying to focus on not burning yourself, “cute again? what does that mean?”

“you know, like not just customer service or whatever, like happy, i guess - i don’t know, but he keeps staring at you like a sad puppy,” she finished.

you hadn’t noticed anything significantly different. and brenda had the emotional acuity of a car battery. you weren’t that concerned. 

even when you had taken a second shift (and so had he by the way - like how was he on the same shifts as you when he could barely stand you just a few weeks…months ago - you weren’t keeping track), and you were maybe, just a tiny bit tired, and closed your eyes for like two seconds. 

he was there to whisper in your ear that you could just go in the back. 

you opened your eyes immediately, leaning away from him, “what? then it would just be you doing everything.”

he shrugged, “i’m fine.”

you sighed, “it’s work - you don’t get to just meander off,” you stood up, looking for some way to be busy. 

“there’s almost no one here, y/n.”

you sighed loudly, “that isn’t the point.”

there really were almost no customers - it was genuinely a lull - there was maybe one guy outside next to the outdoor heater. 

and then you found yourself watching mingyu’s fingers make contact with your hand and trace along the inside of your wrist before he leaned close again, “go sleep,” he whispered.

his fingertips were so warm against your skin. you felt a sweet tingling travel through your entire body. you looked up at him again, only to find him watching you with his steady gaze that made your stomach shift around in excited, uncertainty. you wondered for a moment how it would feel to be surrounded by his warmth, and then your mind wandered farther off the path, thinking about where all of the little blue tentacles went when he wasn’t using them. you had definitely spent zero minutes considering the things he could do with them outside of the coffee shop - like how they would feel against your skin or deep inside you. 

and this was why you didn’t need to be near him. your thoughts were too embarrassing - how could you look at him without blushing when - not only did you know something very personal about him - but you definitely wondered how it would feel for your pussy to be filled full of all of his blue thingies. you still hadn’t mentally decided what to call them. even worse was the thought about how many could fit inside you - how many would it take until you were asking him to stop. begging would be more accurate - how many until you were crying and begging for him to stop. and then could you take just one more, you wondered. 

you felt his lips brush your cheek, “is that all?” he whispered.

you froze, knowing you hadn’t said any of that out loud. not a single word. you were certain your life flashed before your eyes. you felt his tongue trace along your earlobe.

“they would love to fill you,” he whispered, breath warm against your skin, “go as deep as you want.”

you knew your heart was beating faster - just feeling him close was enough to cause that. but what he was saying - what he was offering - you could feel warmth creeping through your body at the idea of it. you knew exactly how much you wanted it. 

you nodded, shivering when you felt a single, vine-like tentacle wrap gently around your wrist.

“good,” he murmured.

you were still tired and muddled through the rest of your shift, but when everything was set for the night and the place was locked - you found yourself falling in step with him. he lived close by - you weren’t surprised that it was tidy. 

there was no rush to make out or undress or anything. instead, it was slow. you sat on the sofa with him, making out, and finally letting yourself consciously acknowledge the way he looked at you. and even when you moved to his bed, neither of you hurried to strip. but when you had, you couldn’t help wanting to touch him. he really was - perfect. there was no other word. mingyu was perfection, and he was in front of you, all of him on display. 

he reached out, pulling you into his lap, kissing you while his hands traced along your back. 

he leaned back, “turn around.”

you found yourself sitting in his lap, your back pressed against his chest. he kissed your throat and squeezed your breasts, and then you felt the soft, round tips, stroking and teasing your wet pussy lips.

“relax,” he whispered against your skin. 

you nodded, feeling the two tentacles slide deep inside you, and then you felt a third teasing your clit, circling it and squeezing and pulling gently. it felt like it only took seconds for you to be breathing hard, whining softly as they worked in tandem. you reached back for him, finding his mouth, wanting to kiss him while you were being fucked. you could feel them going deeper, and expanding inside you, stretching you gently as they went.

“fuck,” you whimpered against his lips, pressing close, not wanting to break the kiss.

his hands slid down, gently resting on your thighs. his thumbs traced little circles against your skin, as you were overwhelmed - you were being stretched and fucked and your clit was aching. you wanted to come. you pulled his hair roughly.

“i thought you wanted to beg,” he asked.

you almost laughed, vaguely wondering how many of your thoughts he knew, “fuck, please, mingyu - please, let me come,” you kept mumbling under your breath as the same two tentacles pumped into you harder. and they were so deep, you were certain they were stretching the entrance to your cervix, filling it too. 

“come inside me,” you whispered, feeling the tentacles shivering inside you, like they were ready too - you assumed they did something like that. 

you felt him smile as he kissed the back of your neck, “they’ll make a mess,” he warned.

you were desperate, “then make it stay inside,” you gasped, feeling one of them hit so deep you were sure you were seeing stars. 

he groaned softly, “so whiny and desperate,” he pulled you back close against him, grasping your jaw and staring down at you - you felt the tip of his finger tease your lips, “can’t say ‘no’ to you to can i?” he asked gently. 

you whined in response, “please, please, mingyu,” and you almost screamed as your orgasm ripped through you - but the tentacles were still fucking you, your cum just making their slide that much smoother, messier.

you would have fallen forward if he weren’t holding you so tightly. you whined and arched back against him as you came - still they kept fucking into you, even as you moaned and cried from the overstimulation. 

but then you felt them come, you knew it was deeper than your had ever felt because you were sure you could see the bulge in your stomach - you shivered, knowing you were full of cum, his cum - just touching your stomach, pressing it lightly, almost caused a new orgasm. 

you felt his hands gently pulling yours away from your stomach, “keep it inside, pretty girl, i’ll clean you up after you’ve slept.

you nodded, feeling him shift you around gently. he pulled the duvet close and wrapped himself around you. you slept easily, warm and stuffed full.

a/n: yeah, sorry they def went through some stages...if you don't want plot, idk why you're asking me (said light heartedly)

let me know if you want more of these two

♡ kat

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seungcheol: knotting + marking | professor (prof. choi, pt. 1) | monster | spanking (neighbor seungcheol) | big dick + hate sex | forced masturbastion (prof. choi, pt ii) | voyeurism + punishment | coffee shop au + forbidden relationship (untitled alpha!!cheol pt. 1) |

mingyu: lingerie + praise kink | bed sharing + big dick | praise + worship kink | vehicle sex + oral fixation | drunk pda + no underwear | enemies to lovers + tentacles |

seungcheol & mingyu threesome: oral |

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[melanieph321]

Mason Mount x Reader - On Top of Summer

+ 18

Who wouldn't want to spend summer with Mason? 🤭

A snippet of you and Mason, spending the summer together off the coast of Italy.

Enjoy ☀️

Summer was coming in hot.

Without a care in the world for neither work or training, you and Mason found a way to relax on a boat, docked near the coast surrounded by the Mediterranean Sea.

It was the perfect outlet to just be. To simply exist in each other's presence, far away from any pressure or expectations that you had of yourself or your lives.

"Babe, you hungry?"

No answer.

"Baby?"

The wind blew cooly underneath the shade of the parasol. You groaned as you lay on your back, your boyfriend tugging annoyingly at the thin straps of your bikini. "Mason...stop."

He shifted where he lay beside you, his voice a whisper in your ear. "Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat."

You waved your hand by your ear, chasing him away like a fly. "No, go away."

His laughter drummed in your ear but became more distant as Mason got up to make himself a snack in the kitchen below deck, while you returned to your peaceful sleep, drifting off to the sound of the sea, with the sun massaging your bare feet.

Maybe an hour passed before you woke up again. The sun was still set high in the sky, reflecting brightly against the surface of the deep blue sea.

"Mason?" You called out his name, your boyfriend nowhere to be found. "Baby?"

His towel still lay beside yours, the smell of his skin lingering in your nose.

"Mason?"

Had he gone for a swim, or was he still making a snack in the kitchen down below? Like you said, an hour could have passed since you had shut your eyes. But without your phone near it was impossible to tell.

Both you and Mason had agreed on no devices on this trip. However, you deeply regretted that now, seeing as you came up empty after a lap around deck, both below and above it. There were no traces of your boyfriend.

"Mason, come on!" You shouted, a slight anger rising within you. Had your boyfriend taken the smaller boat into land? Had he gone for a trip into town without you? If this was the case, then—

"I'm down here!"

You froze, searching for the sound of his voice.

"Jupp, down here. You're getting warmer."

"Mason, it's not funn—

"Warmer, keep walking."

You rolled your eyes, but let the sound of his voice guide you to the back of the boat, past where you had laid out your towels, towards the far end of the fleet. There, splashing around in the water was Mason, an amused smile on his lips as you appeared before him with your hands on your hips.

"Good morning sunshine. Sleep well?"

"Fuck you."

"Now, honey. I know how cranky you get when you haven't eaten in a while. But I did offer to make you something two hours ago."

"Two hours?" You gasped. "Has it been that long?"

Your boyfriend brimmed from ear to ear. "I guess we should take it easier with the red wine during dinner from now on."

You stepped up towards the edge of the boat, where Mason had neatly left his sunglasses and flip-flops, reaching down to playfully wack him in the head with the shoe.

"Ouch, whatchu' do that for?"

"Because I can."

Oh, yeah?"

"Yes."

"Well, can you stop being so sleepy and come join your boyfriend for a swim?"

You smiled. "Sure. Just give me a sec."

You stepped further out onto the deck, holding on to the railing in order to dip your toes and feel the temperature of the water. However, your boyfriend didn't like that, scrunching his face at you.

"What?"

"Just jump in."

"No way. I have to mentally prepare."

"For what?"

"The cold."

"It's not that cold baby, jump in!"

"Fine. I'm coming, I'm coming."

"Oh, and one more thing."

"What?" You pused with your hand on the railing, frowning at the way your boyfriend was grinning at you. "Mason, what is it?"

"Take off your bikini."

Heat flushed your face. "What? No way, Mason, there's people around."

"Not for another mile or so. Come on, I'm naked too."

You narrowed your eyes, trying to see beyond the waves of water that hid half of your boyfriend's body. "No, you're not." You protested.

"No? Why don't you jump in and find out for yourself."

"Mason, I can't—"

"Why not?" He laughed. "Trust me, you'll like it."

The water did look inviting.

And after spending so much time in the sun, it would be nice to cool down a bit.

"Come on. I know you wanna."

You scuffed at your boyfriend, although he could tell by the smile on your face that he had definitely won you over.

You moved quickly, stepping out of your bikini before jumping into the water.

"That's my girl!"

You did so without a count to three, resurfacing beside your boyfriend who was quick to rail you in and pin you against the side of the boat. "There you are. I've missed you."

"You have?" Your arms draped around his neck, his free hand caressing your cheek.

"Of course, I have. It's you and me, no?"

You smiled, mimicking the way Mason was already grinning at you. "Kiss me."

He chuckled but did not have to be told twice.

The kiss was raw. Two naked bodies pressing hard against each other. Cold lips seeking contact. Raking hands scratching soft skin.

"Mason." You moaned. his tongue swiping soflty across your bottom lip, his breath hot against your mouth.

"Yes, baby?" He was breathless, his arms keeping you both afloat.

"I don't want to swim anymore."

"No?" He pulled back, observing you with a drunk concentration. "What would you like to do instead?"

But Mason had other plans.

You raised your chin, teeth biting down on your lips, eyes big and seductive. "You know exactly what I want."

You could feel it, his flesh coming alive below you, growing hard against your folds. You could have him right here in the water. Guide his leaking tip right into the warmth of your folds, aching to feel him. To please him.

Bare cheeked the two of you hurried up and out of the water, wet footprints rushing towards the bedroom below deck. The mattress was damp against your back, Mason coming into you hard but slow. All senses in your nerve endings shot down your spine and through the arch in your back, numbing any sense of pain with every thrust.

"Fuck" was uttered often and hoarse. But in the end a breathless silence marked the level of your satisfaction.

"God, baby. I love how you feel."

Tangled up in the wet sheets, you turned around in his arms, meeting the eyes of a man in love. "Oh, yeah? And what exactly do I feel like?"

He chuckled but settled a hand against the swell of your breast, slowly but firmly rolling your nipple between his cold fingers. "Like this."

"Mhmm."

"But a thousand times better."

[redhoodi]

Takes one to know one | Rhett Abbott/Reader

Rhett couldn’t play your games anymore, he needs you to know he lost.

word count: 1.5K warnings: none

note Find this fic on AO3 #hi haven’t written anything or been kissed in a long time. Sighs. Anyways happy yearner Rhett for those who celebrate. Mentions of God and subtly comparing love to religion. English isn’t my first language btw, hope you like it ^_^ !

While the moonlight couldn’t compete with the white lights turning the rodeo into a spectacle, only his reddening face looking at the ground once his eyes find you in the crowd. He fixes his hat before raising for your challenge, he licks his lips thinking it would distract you from noticing a smile on his face.

It was your favorite game, lowering your head, rising your eyebrows along with the corners of your lips and nodding once just to let him know you see him. That he’s doing a good job at not letting you see how his hand grips on his waist, how his breathing weights on his chest when you’re locked on his eyes.

You wore a tight long-sleeved shirt which color could be stained with wine and it wouldn’t show a difference. Dark red, maroon, Rhett knew about colors. It’s the type of detail it would make you compare it to a certain wine brand or his bruised hands after riding. Type of detail that doesn’t escape your ability to continue chatting. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. Semi-finals had caught him on a cold night. Bull was rougher. His mind could’ve lingered a little longer on the top if it weren’t for the red lipstick painted on your face. The lights started to dim, and people began to fade.

Rhett’s questioned where would you go after this on the tip of his tongue but he was betrayed by his own body the moment he had you only meters away from him. People walking around your bodies like a river softening stones. His shoulders falling once your steps got you closer to him. He froze, keeping in mind the way your father whispered in your ear before the rodeo. He caught your mother’s disapproving eyes staring up and down and calculating just how much of a man he was that couldn’t measure to be even remotely deserving of capturing your eyes. He waited on you to make a move. Not as tough as people made him out to be.

Some say you reap what you sow. And your little eye game riled up his mind beyond forming any coherent word as you got closer. Maybe it was the moon dancing over the side you brushed your hair behind your ear. Maybe his breathing finally stopped and he had you confused with an angel all those years ago.

His clothes stuck to his body from the sweat, bringing out his broad shoulders and tightening around his chest. You swallowed, keeping posture before trying to meet his eyes but he was nowhere to be found. His gaze wandered the floor below and his fingers trailed his brown leather jacket. Boots tapping the dry sand he stood above, there wasn’t any escape and doe eyes stared at you caught on the brightness of your presence.

Then your greetings came as a whisper. Pride on his mouth was spit to the ground before he did something he’d be scared not to regret.

“Not bad,” you insisted as a wry smile adorned his face. As his features could be detailed closer and the skin below your nose tarnished hot from his breath. It was only a matter of time before he got so close he could see behind your façade. Shivers went down your spine steading you to the ground. Focusing on his eyes and the dim light reflecting distracted you from noticing them tracing your mouth. Pink painted his nose and cheeks as the wind blushed his face.

“Expected more” he recited with a low voice, while the grip on his jacket tightened. The results were enough for next round and the thought circles his mind as birds preying, he had been just enough, not good nor great. He swallows the thought before taking a pause to let the mix of hay, sweat and vanilla fill his lungs. The last scent makes him travel to the first and only time he had enough audacity to dare his nose trail the skin below your jaw. A grin lights his face remembering, like yours when it happened.

The kind of games that you played with him worked too well. The small balancing of your torso in place, waltzing to yourself before him, impatient. Something was between you two for years since you’ve started as a nurse in town. You faking you didn’t know what you were doing when you licked your lips staring him with a frown, confusing and intoxicating. It started to poison him the moment he saw you standing on the bleachers tonight. Losing temped him.

There hadn’t been a day now where the thought of tasting you wasn’t the only thought in mind. His family played dumb. Misplacing a plate on the fridge when he caught a bird outside the window that you told him about its legs automatically clamping on branches when they sleep so they don’t fall, his smile only raised concerns to his mother that he was slowly losing it. When you wore a dress tight on your torso and loose on your hips, cut a little above your knees, spotting him staring and smiled, making him miss the door on the store to end up on a wall, Perry only laughed. Now, jeans hugging your legs, arms behind your back, acting all innocent for him, his stupid causing a grin on you.

“Stop that” only making you frown from his stern shaking voice. “What are we doing?”

“What do you mean,” you tilted your head. Amusing yourself with the idea of riling him up without even a touch. The saintly woman you ought to be couldn’t let herself enjoy knowing the effect you had on him. He never stood a change under your voice, your gaze. Delighted by the desperate sight of a man finding little interest in praying to God, pleading to you.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart,” he held his fingers close to your waist, never quite reaching. “Once we do this, I don’t want nothing else”

He was tortured by your ever addicting laugh. Rhett should grab you but his hands stood still, he never waited on permission but any word from you could bring him to ruin. Anger filled his cheeks red trying to find the joke of of having him wrapped around your fingers.

“I want you,” consumed by the loss of his mind, surrendering himself to you. His hands began to shake in place, once you lowered your head to see them. Frowning further.

“What about Maria?” it came as a whisper again, tainted with mistrust. The first time he didn’t hear a gambler tone, or followed up by a topic changing the leading of the conversation as he caught you doing when he tried to flirt with you out front. He did once, thought he could get you easily. Then he got to know you and learned you loved proving people wrong about their expectations of you. It only made you stronger than smoking. He was the one frowning now, searching for the confident foe he made you out to be.

“What about her?”

“You’ve been in love with her since forever,” you reached for his fingers with yours, not reaching his palm. “When she looks at you, you’ll be done with me”

“Was a high-school crush,” he holds your fingers to lead them to his chest, not trying to hide the trembling of his hands. His heart raced on your palm and his eyes traveled from your golden rings adorning your hands to your eyes focusing on him. “I can’t anymore, I know I ain’t much. God’s honest truth that is. But I want all of you”

Rough voice against your tender lips. The tip of your noses lightly finding each other. Your eyebrows relaxed once under his eyes and the pressing of your lips goes unnoticed by the shadow casted from his hat. He takes it off with his free hand, when the right still steadies above your own. Daring to brush his thumb to bring you back. You begin to move your head softly. His head rested on the right side of his neck now, almost bowing.

“I should kiss that grin out of your face,” you manage to say and what kind of man was he to stop you.

“Should’ve done it sooner” before resting his hat on your head and reaching for your ear between his index and middle finger and allowing his thumb to play around your smiling cheek. He sighs when he realizes your free hand reaching for the back of his neck and bringing him closer.

“I hate you” was the last thing he heard before your lips greet his. Slowly finding your way against his mouth. He could taste the lipstick before you opened your mouth to taste his tongue.

The sweetest con often comes in the idea of an indefinite place of faith by someone else’s hands. His, bruised in purple and green with scratches he often downplayed their severity to calm you down, rough and slightly dirty fingers traced a path on the edge of your cheeks. The Rhett Abbott from everyone’s eyes could be careless, couldn’t be more different than the one whose hands slightly tremble when holding your face. You pretend not to notice how he crumbles from touching you, how his eyes tempest blue underneath your gaze.

-

© redhoodi 2025 my writing is prohibited from any replication consisting of reposting, copying, translating or profiting, on any platform regardless if credit is given.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

snowed in⋆⁺₊❅

Eddie Munson x Reader (from Happy Hours, but can be read as a standalone)

Word Count: 1.4K

Summary: My first contribution to @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas revisits Bouncer!Eddie and Bartender!Reader as they brave a blizzard together. 

Content: Cosy and domestic overall. Mentions of sex (oral m & f recieving, penetrative sex). Spit / spit kink mention. Vomit mention if you squint. Hints to anxiety.

December 1993

Silhouetted by the brilliant white sky, he looks like spilled ink framed by the wooden window frame. Accidentally beautiful or intentionally dark and mysterious, a Rorschach print filled with meaning, you want to mount him on the wall and admire him from every angle. 

Eddie gazes out at the falling snow, the way it blankets the city streets below. He watches the flakes float and fall, fat and frosty from the fit-to-burst clouds above, and twists the red phone cord around his fingers as he listens to Wayne on the other end. 

You can’t see his face from your spot on the couch, curled up beneath a blanket with fuzzy socks and your hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea, but you would bet all of your earthly possessions that he’s wearing his worry beneath his bangs, pinched between two dark brows. You would also wager that Wayne is insisting he is fine and dandy, teasing him for fretting like an old woman (but secretly feeling heart-warm that his boy cares so much). 

Your tea is cool enough now to sip without scalding your lips (which Eddie would gladly kiss better if such a tragedy would occur). You smile into the cup when he laughs low and throaty, warming you inside out. 

“We’re good, Wayne. Yeah, the bar’s closed tonight, we’re staying put.” Eddie twists slightly to look over his shoulder and winks at you, “Yeah, I’ll tell her.” In socked feet, he shuffles back from the icy-cold glass and turns his back on the blizzard beyond. “You too, old man. Tell Laurel hi from us… Call me tomorrow, okay? Bye, Wayne. Bye.”

You watch him place the phone and its cradle back on the sideboard once his fingers have been untangled from the cord. “How’s Hawkins?” you ask.

“Pretty bad. They closed the Plant, that never happens.” 

He picks up his coffee cup, drains the dregs, and comes to join you on the couch. Eddie is grateful when you lift the fuzzy blanket for him and lays himself on his front with his head against your heart. Going quiet, he sighs and soaks in your warmth before continuing - you can feel the tension wash away now that he has spoke to his Uncle.

“And Wayne? He sounded in good spirits.”

“Mmhm. He’s good. Staying with Laurel, her heating is less-shitty. They’re stocked up on groceries for a few days, so it’s fine.” His voice is muffled against your sweater, but you can feel his relief that Wayne and his girlfriend have each other and don’t have to brave the blizzard alone. Just like you and Eddie. Being snowed in alone would royally suck.

You had enjoyed the light dusting of snow that came at the start of the week, braved the sub-zero temperatures to keep the patrons of Jackie’s happy and drunk, and endured a busy Walmart with Eddie to stock up the fridge and cupboards ‘just in case’. It was fun at first, writing your initials in the snow and pegging snowballs at Eddie, laughing until your ribs ached when you tried and failed to dodge his retribution and cold hands. But winter in Chicago was no joke and overnight, a dump of powdery white perfection and a frigid wind had frozen the midwest. Luckily, the bar closed early last night so everyone could get home safe and sound. The phone call from Frank this morning woke you both up and alerted you to the city at a standstill; there was no need to open the bar tonight and maybe tomorrow. With nowhere to be and nowhere to go, you both curled up again to sleep the day away.

A few hours later, Eddie stood by his sleepy promise to keep you warm by burrowing beneath the blankets and making himself at home between your thighs until you were both sweaty and satisfied and the bedroom windows had fogged up behind the thick curtains. 

You started cooking a lasagne as Eddie called around to make sure your group of friends were safe and sound and fully stocked up for the next few days. He cancelled guitar lessons planned for the next few days, bidding farewell to the extra cash that makes the Holidays a little more extravagant for you two. When Eddie joined you in the kitchen to help chop and taste-test, he brought loose plans to meet in the park and build a snowman tomorrow if the blizzard permitted. He watched the clock, giving  Wayne time to sleep after his night shift; intrusive thoughts of black ice and snow drifts and his Uncle frozen to the bone tightened the tension in his shoulders and made him restless. Finally, he was able to relax once he knew everyone was coping, and once he knew Wayne was safe and warm a two-hundred-odd miles away.

You watch a few episodes of Twin Peaks with the lights low and Eddie falls asleep for a while, looking younger and so peaceful. An unplanned day off is exactly what he needed, wrung out from extra shifts at the bar and guitar lessons and odd jobs he picks up along the way - a day here or there working a sound desk for community theatre, slotting in as a session musician, and learning the ropes at a local radio station (sometimes you even get to hear his voice on the air, though that’s usually when he forgets to mute himself, or his laughter breaches the booth). His ability to try his hand at anything, watching him persist and flourish, makes your heart ache with how much you adore him. Though you do wish he would not spread himself so thinly some weeks, especially now when the days feel so short, when the bar is getting busier as the Holidays tick closer and the days off are fewer and fewer. This snow day, you think, is some sort of divine intervention and you let him sleep on for a little longer than he might like - there’s nowhere to be, nowhere to rush to.

Now the apartment you share smells like the rich and warming lasagne you made together and cheesy garlic bread. Outside, the snow is settling and you sit together at the little dining table with candles and two beers in lieu of wine or something fancy. Eddie’s cheeks are rosy warm and one dimple is stained with a speck of tomato sauce that you will wipe away so gently and call him your ‘mucky pup’. Taking the opportunity to make this an impromptu date night, he attempted to serenade you in butchered Italian until you had to cover his mouth with your hand. 

“Baby, I love you so so much, but we’re going to get another noise compla- Ew! Did you lick me?!” 

You wiped your spit-damp hand on his face as he cackled and threatened to not give him an edge piece of the lasagne - as if you would ever deny him his share of that crispy cheese topping, as if licking your hand was any worse than living with his boyish burps and flatulence, as if you haven’t nursed him through food poisoning, as if your eyes don’t roll into your skull when he spits in your mouth while your legs are up on his shoulders.

Two empty plates sit in front of you as you share memories of snow days passed and agree that this might just be the best one both of you have ever had. Better than the giant snowman Wayne helped him build when he was eight, better than the big hill you went sledging on when you were ten, better than every cup of cocoa with marshmallows that warmed your cold hands after snowball fights. 

Soon you will stand side by side in the kitchen, washing and drying the dishes as you agree on a movie to watch and and wondering aloud if the snow will settle enough for a snowball fight fuelled with hipflasks of warming whiskey with your friends tomorrow. Eddie will call Wayne one more time before bed, and you will talk in the darkness of your bedroom as you fall asleep curled together under too many blankets.

Neither of you is sure what tomorrow will be like, but you both know that you won’t have to spend it alone.

Thank you for reading - I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs, comments and likes are loved, cherished and adored!

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

So I wrote another story for Nifty. I wanted to write one that was complete in one chapter. So I wrote the one below. Yes I had AI generate some of the content, but the twistedness is all me.

Upon completion I decided that I like the setting, so I decided to create an anthology of stories. When I am in the mood to create a different story in this setting, the structure will be there.

The title of the anthology series: "Stories from the Motel Next to the Truck Stop". I know, I know, very simple. But I wanted the casual Nifty reader to know exactly what this will involved: truckers and a seedy motel. I also have it set across the street from a biker bar. I plan on beginning each chapter with the same intro.

This chapter is called "Blindfolded and Cuffed."

The above pic is AI as well. Please don't try to figure out how the door works.

As Nifty has yet to publish it, I include it below.

-------------------

Introduction

There was an intersection of two highways in the middle of nowhere that offers the only stop light for fifty miles.  On the two west corners were two truck stops--one was run by a big named truck fuel company and the other was a truly independently run truck stop.  These stops offering the wayward traveler gas, the best food cooked on rollers, and directions for those that need it.  The other two corners each had named motels with a fast-food joint on the property.  Beyond the big named two truck stop and set back from it was a biker bar.  Many of the truckers would go for a drink before heading to get some sleep or get some ass from the group of local hookers. 

But some of the drivers and even bikers would walk across the road from the bar to the motel sitting next to the independent stop.  The motel was made up of two buildings, one in front and one around back.  The one around back was closer to the semi-truck parking lot than it was to the front building and the main office. 

Drivers from both stops and the bikers from the bar would come over for some attention that a woman could never give.  This was primal and aggressive and sometimes violent and sometimes nasty.  Drivers and bikers in the know would come from all over the country to use the faggots there, and the faggots in the know knew that this was not roleplay.  These men wanted to use them and they were in control.  Most of the gay men would come here from their gay cities hundreds of miles away.  Those that were in doubt of going were advised to stay away.

The motel owner knew that his motel was a faggot's heaven.  And all the fag had to ask for was a room in the back.  He always charged more for those discrete rooms.  Sometimes the same room would be rented multiple times a night.  He would tell the new guest that the room hadn't been cleaned since the last guest checked out an hour or so ago; he would give them a small discount.  Everything was done with cash.  This is how the owner made his money, but only after he paid twenty percent to the local sheriff for protection.  Once the cocksucker paid, he let them be the whores they always needed to be. 

The owner didn't care what went on in the rooms and was proud to be oblivious to the intense sex between his patrons and the horny truckers.  If there were any problems, the sheriff he paid off would take care of it.  All he cared for was the cash he would make from the faggots. 

Horny truck drivers and bikers would come to that back parking lot at any hour of the night and find a faggot to take care of his needs without fear.  No cameras or bright lights of the truck stop.  No police presence unless their needs were being taken care of.  Nobody back there who didn't belong.  Just men using other men to get off.  No one ever complained.  Just one wild time after another.

This is one of the stories from The Motel Next to the Truck Stop.

-------------------

Blindfolded and Cuffed

Skylar arrived late and took the last available room.  The room smelled faintly of bleach and sweat, the kind of scent that clung to cheap motel sheets and didn't budge no matter how many times they were washed.  He lay on the bed, his body arranged exactly as he'd planned--knees pushed into the mattress, ass high in the air, his face pressed into the pillow.  The blindfold was tight, cutting off his vision, but he'd made sure the curtains were open, the door cracked just enough to invite someone in.  His heart pounded as he waited, the anticipation coiling in his stomach like a spring.  Who would it be?  How many would come?  He didn't know, and that was the thrill of it.

The sound of boots thudding against the cracked pavement outside made his breath hitch.  Heavy, purposeful steps.  A large man's steps.  Skylar's fingers curled into the sheets, his body trembling with excitement.  The door creaked open further, the hinges groaning in protest.  A gust of warm air washed over his exposed skin, followed by the scent of diesel and musky aftershave.

"Well, well," a deep, gravelly voice said, the words rich with amusement.  "Look what we've got here."

Skylar's breaths came faster, his chest rising and falling as the man stepped inside.  He didn't need to see him to know he was big--the way the floorboards groaned under his weight was proof enough.  Skylar's body tensed, waiting.

"What's this?" the man asked, his voice closer now.  "You just gonna lie there, huh?  Ass up like a goddamn whore?"

Skylar's lips parted, a shiver running down his spine at the man's tone.  Yes, he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come.  Instead, he spread his thighs wider, the movement slow, deliberate.  A silent invitation.

The man chuckled, low and dark.  "That's what I thought.  You're just a little slut waiting to be used, ain't ya?"

Skylar's pulse quickened, his cock already hardening between his legs.  The man's boots thudded closer, and then a calloused hand slapped his ass, the sharp sting making him gasp.  The sound seemed to please the man, because he did it again, harder this time, his palm leaving a burning imprint on Skylar's skin.

"You like that, huh?  Like being treated like the dirty little cunt you are?"

Skylar moaned, the sound muffled by the pillow.  He did like it.  He loved it.  The man's voice, the way he was already taking control, the way he was owning him--it was everything Skylar craved.

"What's your name, faggot?" the man asked, his hand sliding between Skylar's thighs, fingers brushing against his balls.

"Skylar," he whispered, his voice trembling.

The man let out a derisive snort.  "Skylar?  That's a stupid fucking name.  There's no way I'm going to call you that.  You'll answer to anything I call you like: Faggot, Pussy, Shithead, Asseater, Bitch, Loser, or whatever....  No, there's a better name for you, Cunt.  That's what you are, ain't it?  A worthless little cunt?"

Yes, Cunt thought, his body trembling with anticipation.  "Yes, Sir" he breathed, the word barely audible.

The man's hand moved again, this time gripping the faggot's cock and giving it a rough squeeze.  "That's better.  Now, Cunt, you gonna let me fuck you?  Really fuck you--mean, cruel, relentless.  You up for that, or you gonna bitch out?"

The bitchboy's stomach twisted with excitement.  "Yes," he said, louder this time.  "Please.  I want it."

The man let out a dark laugh.  "Good.  Because I'm not holding back.  If you can't handle it and want me to stop, all you just have to say a safe phrase and I will stop, you got that?"

Cunt nodded eagerly, his heart racing.  "Got it."

"It's the same phrase I use on all faggots.  And that safe phrase is just four words: 'Use me harder, Sir.' Got it?"

Reluctantly the faggot replied, "Got it."

"What do we have here?" 

The large trucker, whose name was Buck, looked at a pile of sex related items on the second bed: condoms, lube, poppers, riding crop, butt plug, collar, handcuffs, hood, and so on. 

"Looks like I got me a perverted cunt tonight..."  The trucker grabbed the handcuffs, and--recalling his time in law enforcement many years ago--had them on in seconds.  He even had the second lock set.  "...and a stupid one at that."

The man's hands gripped the bitch's hips, his grip bruising.  Then, without warning, he shoved himself inside, his cock stretching Cunt open in one brutal thrust.  The fag cried out, the sound swallowed by the pillow as pain and pleasure coursed through him.  The man didn't wait for him to adjust, didn't give him a moment to breathe.  He pulled out almost as quickly as he'd entered, only to slam back in, his pace relentless.

"That's it, Cunt," the man growled, his hands digging into the bitch's flesh.  "Take it.  Take my cock like the little slut you are."

The bitch's back arched, his fingers clutching the sheets as the man fucked him with abandon.  Each thrust was harder than the last, the man's cock hitting him deep, his rhythm brutal and unyielding.  The pain was sharp, almost too much, but it was exactly what the faggot wanted.  He moaned, the sound broken and desperate, his cock dripping onto the sheets as the man claimed him.

"You like that, don't you?" the man taunted, his voice thick with satisfaction.  "You like being fucked like a worthless piece of meat?"

"Yes," Cunt gasped, his body shaking.  "Yes, I like it."

The man laughed, the sound dark and guttural.  "Course you do.  You're nothing but a filthy cunt, made to be used.  And I'm gonna use you good."

He dug his fingers into the faggot's hips, pulling him back onto his cock with each thrust.  The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with the bitch's moans and the man's gruff words.  The man's cock was relentless, driving into him again and again, hitting that spot inside him that made his vision blur with pleasure.

"That's it, Cunt," the man muttered, his breath ragged.  "Take it.  Take every fucking inch."

Pussyboy's cries grew louder, his body trembling as the man's cock stretched him open, filling him completely.  The pain was fading now, replaced by an overwhelming pleasure that coiled in his stomach, threatening to burst.  He was close, so close, but he didn't want it to end.  He wanted this--wanted the man to keep using him, to keep claiming him.

The man seemed to sense it, because he leaned down, his breath hot against the fag's ear.  "You gonna come, Cunt?  That what you're waiting for?  You wanna come like the little slut you are?"

"Yes, Sir" the fag whimpered, his voice raw.  "Please."

The man's hand slid under him, gripping his cock and stroking it roughly.  "Then come.  Show me the selfish dirty little cunt you are."

The whore's body tensed, his hips bucking as pleasure crashed over him in waves.  He came hard into the bedsheets without jerking based on how the man was pounding his prostate, his voice breaking.  The trucker didn't stop, didn't slow down.  He kept fucking him, his cock driving into him as the pussy trembled with oversensitivity.

"You fucking cunt," the man growled.

Cunt's body spasmed, his vision going white as the man's thrusts became heavy hitting his prostate.  Collapsing onto the bed, he managed to pull away from the trucker's cock, his body boneless, his mind blissfully empty. 

The man's hand smacked his ass again, the sharp sting making him jerk.

"Get back here, Cunt," the man said, his voice rough with annoyance.  "I'm nowhere near being done."

"But I just came.  I need a break."

"I don't give a shit.  That's your problem not mine." The man continued by pounding his cock into Cunt's hole. 

A knock at the door doesn't stop the man from his assault.  Another trucker asked, "Up for some company?"

Buck didn't even look back when he grabbed a handful of the whore's hair and yanked his head back.  "You can fuck its toilet mouth.  I ain't using it.  And close the door and pull the blind's.  The bitch only has two holes, and I'm not up for sharing the one I'm in."

The door creaked shut, and the new trucker's boots thudded heavily against the motel floor.  Buck's relentless pace didn't falter, his thick cock driving into the whore with force.  The air grew heavier, warmer, as another body entered the fray.

Buck's voice cut through the room, rough and commanding.  He addressed the other driver, "Bend over for the cunt.  I want to watch him eat your shithole while I take the other one."

With the handcuffs on, the bitch couldn't lift his head to rim the new trucker.  Buck grabbed a handful of hair and elevated its head. 

The new driver stripped completely and bent over in front of the bitch.

The cunt's stomach churned, but the thrill of submission surged through him, overriding any hesitation.  He couldn't see the other trucker, but he could smell him--a pungent mix of sweat, diesel, and something earthy.  Real.  Raw.  It made his pulse race even as his nerves spiked.

The new trucker hesitated, his voice gruff but unsure.  "Uh, I haven't showered in three days.  You sure about this?"

Buck barked a laugh, his hips slamming into the bitch with bruising force.  "You ain't gonna kiss him, are you?  So why the fuck does it matter?  Pull apart your hairy ass cheeks so he can dive in deep. "

"I have a better idea."

There was a pause, then the sound of footsteps approaching the bed.  The mattress dipped under the weight of the second trucker.  Pussyboy could hear the rustle of fabric as the man positioned himself on his back with his legs up in the air and spread wide. 

Buck turned both of them for better ass eating access.  He released his handful of hair and the bitch's face fell right into the new trucker's crack.  

The warm, musky scent of the asscrack filled faggot's nostrils.  He flinched instinctively.

Buck's hand grabbed another fistful of hair, yanking the bitch's head back only to release the grip and making his face drop back into the trucker's ass crack.

"Just wanted to see that again.  Open wide, Cunt, and get that tongue in clean up mode.  I want that man's shithole clean inside and out." Buck growled, his voice dripping with sadistic glee.

The fag's lips parted, his breath trembling as the other man's ass pressed against his face.  The coarse hair tickled his skin, and the smell was overpowering, a mix of sweat, musk, and something sour that made his stomach twist.  But he didn't pull away.  He couldn't.  Instead, he leaned in, his tongue probing deep into the crevice.

The other trucker started pounding his dick and let out a low groan, shifting his weight to press harder against the asseater's face.  His legs swayed in the air.  "Damn, that's… that's something else."

Buck chuckled darkly, his pace never slowing.  "He's a good little whore."

The cunt's tongue worked hesitantly at first, tasting the salt and sweat that clung to the man's skin.  The bitter flavor was intense, almost overwhelming, but it wasn't long before his body began to respond to the degradation, the heat pooling in his groin despite the disgust twisting his stomach.  He pressed deeper, his tongue probing as he tried to focus on the sensations--the coarse hair, the firm muscle, the way the man shuddered.  But there was no way of escaping the taste.

Buck's voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding.  "That's it, Cunt.  Show him what you're good for."

The other trucker groaned, his hips shifting to press harder against the bitch's face.  "Fuck, that's nasty… but I can't stop."

The fag's head spun, the mix of shame and arousal making his cock throb once again.  He breathed through his mouth, trying to block out the smell, but it was impossible.  The taste was inescapable, filling his senses as he licked and probed, his tongue working in slow, deliberate strokes.  His body was betraying him, the humiliation only heightening his pleasure as Buck's cock pistoned into him, hitting that spot inside him that made his toes curl.

Buck's hand tightened around the bitch's hair once again, yanking his head back sharply.  "You like that, Cunt?  You like being used like a roll of fucking toilet paper?"

He gasped, his voice trembling.  "Yes, Sir."

"Good," Buck snarled, slamming into him with a force that made the whore cry out.  "Because you're not done yet."

The other trucker shifted, his hands gripping the headboard for leverage as he ground his ass against fag's face.  "Fuck, this is wild.  Never thought I'd be into something like this."

Buck laughed, a deep, rumbling sound.  "Thought you'd just stick your dick in him and call it a night?  Nah, Cunt here's got more uses than that."

The asseater's lungs burned as he struggled to breathe, his face buried in the man's ass.  The taste was getting to him, the sour and bitter tang mixing with the salt of sweat as his tongue worked deeper.  His cock ached, untouched and ignored, but the humiliation was enough to keep him on edge, his body trembling with need.

The other trucker let out a shaky breath, his hips grinding harder against the moist tongue.  "Fuck, I think I'm close."

Buck's cock continued to slam with brutal force, hitting that spot inside the cunt.  "Then shoot."  That was a command.

Cunt's body was on fire, every nerve alight with sensation.  He could feel the other man's muscles tensing, his breath coming in ragged gasps.  The taste was overwhelming, but he didn't stop, couldn't stop.  His tongue worked feverishly, his body trembling as Buck's cock pounded into him with relentless force.

The other trucker let out a low, guttural groan, his hips jerking as he came, the scent of his release mixing with the sweat and musk that already filled the room.  A huge load dumped on the driver's chest.

Slowly the trucker lowered his legs, effectively disconnecting from the tongue.  He climbed down from the bed.  His chest and cock covered in his load.  He looked around for a rag.

"Have Cunt here clean up your cock."

The trucker brought his deflating cock to the skid marked mouth.  Buck scooped some of the chest load on to his hand.  "When you are done using Cunt's mouth, you can use the shower in the bathroom.  It will cost you though."  Buck applied the load to his cock and returned to fucking.

The driver looked at Buck.

"Leave your filthy underwear.  They will make a great gag when the faggot thinks that using his voice is important."

The driver chuckled, "You got it."

He walked over to his clothes and Buck said, "Open up the window and door like you found it.  The cunt needs to service more men."

After opening up the room, he grabbed his briefs and threw them onto the second bed before going into the bathroom.

Buck and the fag saw the huge skid mark on it.

"Say one wrong thing and this is going in your mouth with his shit stain going on your tongue."

Buck's hips slammed into him with brutal force, his cock hitting that spot inside him that made his vision blur.  "You're a filthy little whore, Cunt.  And you're gonna take everything I give you.  You have anything to say?"

Cunt's breath hitched, his body trembling as Buck's cock pistoned into him with relentless force.  He could feel the other man's cum on his tongue, the taste mixing with the sweat and musk that already filled his senses.

He really needed a break, but the brutal trucker held him in place.  He decided to use the safe phrase.  "Use me harder, Sir."

"You got it Cunt!" And with that Buck started to slam into Cunt's cunt with increased severity and brutality.  The bitch started to cry.  That's all it took for Buck to go into overdrive.

Buck's hips pistoned into the hole with a force that made the bed creak under their weight, his thick, unrelenting cock driving deep into the younger man's ass.  Each thrust was accompanied by a low, guttural growl, the sound vibrating through the bitch's body as if it were part of him.

"You're nothing but a filthy cunt," Buck snarled, his voice rough and dripping with contempt.  "A worthless hole for me to use.  Say it, bitch."

The faggot's face was pressed into the mattress, his blindfold damp with sweat as he gasped for air.  "I'm… I'm a filthy worthless cunt," he whimpered, his voice trembling but obedient.  The words sent a rush of humiliation through him, making his cock twitch despite the overwhelming pain and pleasure coursing through his body.

Buck let out a dark laugh, his hands digging into bitch boy's hips hard enough to leave bruises.  "Damn right you are.  You're my fucking cunt, and you'll take every inch of me until I'm done with you."

The other trucker, now clean and dressed, stood by the door, watching the scene with a mix of amusement and arousal.  He zipped up his jeans and grabbed his bag, shaking his head with a smirk.  "Damn, you're gonna break the poor boy."

Buck didn't even glance his way, his focus entirely on the writhing body beneath him.  "He asked for it.  Didn't you, Cunt?"

The whore nodded frantically, his voice catching as Buck's cock slammed into him again.  "Y-yes, Sir…"

The other driver chuckled, tossing his skidmarked underwear from the other bed.  "Don't forget this," he said, his tone mocking.  Before he left, he added, "There's plenty more of me for you to taste."  The briefs landed on faggot's head.

Buck shoved them into the ass eater's mouth without hesitation.  The faggot gagged, the foul taste of sweat and bodily waste once again overwhelming his senses.  "Shut up and take it, Cunt," Buck growled, his thrusts becoming even more brutal.  "You're a fucking toilet, a cum dump.  Nothing more."

The bitch's body convulsed.  He could feel Buck's cock swelling inside him, the trucker's breath coming in ragged gasps as he neared his own climax.

"You're gonna take every drop, Cunt," Buck snarled, his voice thick with lust.  "Every last fucking drop."

And then it happened.  Buck let out a guttural roar, his hips slamming into the cunt one final time as he erupted deep inside him.  The cum dump whore felt the hot, sticky fluid fill him, the sensation sending a wave of shame and ecstasy through his body.  Buck's hands tightened on his hips, keeping him in place as he continued to pump his seed into him, his breaths coming in short, animalistic pants.

Finally, Buck collapsed onto the bitch's back, his weight crushing him into the mattress.  The room was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and the faint hum of the motel air conditioner.  For a moment, there was silence.

Then, Buck pushed himself up, his voice cold and dismissive.  "Get the fuck out of here."

Still disoriented from the intensity of what had just happened, the whore mumbled the single word "What?" around the underwear still stuffed in his mouth.

"Get out," Buck repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.  He grabbed the cum dump by the arm, dragging him off the bed and toward the door.  The handcuffs restricted him.  "I need some sleep."

"This is… my room," the meek protest were barely audible through the fabric in his mouth.

Buck didn't respond, instead he shoved him toward the door.  The fag stumbled, barely managing to catch himself as he was pushed out into the parking lot.  The cold night air hit his naked skin, making him shiver.

"I don't care," Buck said, slamming the door shut behind him.  The sound of the lock clicking into place was final.

Skylar stood there, naked and exposed, the blindfold still covering his eyes.  After a dozen or so head flicks, he was able to flick it off his head, blinking in the dim light of the parking lot.  The motel room's curtains were already drawn, the door shut.  He was naked.  He was alone.

For a moment, he just stood there, unsure of what to do.  His body ached, his ass still throbbing from the brutal fuck he'd just endured.  The taste of the other man's underwear lingered in his mouth, a bitter reminder of his submission.  Then Skyler's asshole relaxed and some of Buck's load escaped.

"Hey Knuckles, is that a naked faggot in front of us?"

Skyler looked in the direction of the question glanced around and saw two beefy bikers.

From behind, a hand fell on Skyler's shoulder.  Skyler looked over his shoulder and saw a big behemoth of a man with a white beard.

The man looked down at him and squinted.  Without breaking his glance, the man said, "Not so fast boys, I saw him first."

Skyler didn't move a muscle out of terror.  The only sensation he had was the feeling of Buck's load roll down his leg.

[diamonddaze01]

STORM'S EDGE

⚡︎ PAIRING: httyd! jeonghan x fem! reader | ⚡︎ WC: 1.7K ⚡︎ A/N: check out the rest of ASH AND AETHER if you want more httyd! jeonghan

It was supposed to be a normal patrol flight.

A scout had spotted something unusual on the horizon—a flicker of movement beyond the eastern cliffs, there one moment and gone the next. It could’ve been anything: a stray ship, a migrating sea beast, just a trick of the light. But Jeonghan, ever the proactive chief, wasn’t one to let things slide.

“We’ll check it out,” he’d said, already mounting Luma before you even had a chance to argue. “You’re coming with me.”

You hadn’t even finished tying your boots before he was tugging you onto Nox’s saddle. Not that you minded. You’d always been one step behind Jeonghan, a presence at his side whether in battle, at meetings, or on these spontaneous flights. You were his second-in-command first, his girlfriend second.

He made it hard to separate the two.

The sky stretched wide and endless above you, the late afternoon sun washing everything in golden hues. Below, the sea rippled in waves of molten silver, the wind carrying the scent of salt and damp earth from the cliffs. It was peaceful, for once.

“You know,” you called over the wind, tilting your head toward him, “for someone who preaches strategy, you’re really impulsive.”

Jeonghan smirked, adjusting his grip on Luma’s reins. “I call it efficient.”

“I call it reckless.”

“Reckless was when you set the training fields on fire last month.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging your dragon closer to his. “That was an accident.”

“You let Jun pour a barrel of oil over the targets and then thought it was a good idea to test fire arrows.”

“Again—an accident.”

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. “Chief instincts tell me otherwise.”

“Chief instincts? You mean that little voice in your head that tells you you’re always right?”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

You scoffed, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. These flights had always been your favorite moments—where it was just the two of you, the sky, and the dragons, no weight of responsibility pressing down. For a little while, it was easy to pretend that things were simple.

And then the storm rolled in.

The first gust of wind nearly knocked the air from your lungs. It came out of nowhere, swallowing the sky in an instant. One moment, there had been blue stretching far and wide, the sea below calm and endless. The next, the horizon was gone, smothered in thick clouds that curled like ink spills across the heavens.

Wind howled, lashing against you like a beast with untamed claws, and rain pelted down in sheets, drenching your furs in an instant. Your grip on the saddle tightened as Nox struggled against the storm’s fury, wings beating frantically to keep you aloft.

Jeonghan’s posture shifted immediately. His easy confidence snapped into something sharper, tenser. “We need to land—now.”

You gritted your teeth, Nox’s wings straining against the storm’s force. “We’re too close to turn back now!”

“You think we can keep flying in this?” His voice was sharp, but not panicked. Jeonghan never panicked. He just pushed forward, made decisions, expected you to follow.

You locked eyes with him through the downpour, the rain lashing against your skin like tiny knives. He wanted to play it safe. For once.

You didn’t.

“I can see a clearing ahead,” you called over the wind, pointing past the jagged cliffs. It wasn’t much—just a sliver of rocky terrain cutting through the fog—but it was enough. If you could make it past the worst of the storm, you wouldn’t have to land.

Jeonghan’s expression hardened. “That’s too far. We won’t make it.”

You shot him a grin, reckless and wild. “You underestimate me, Chief.”

Then, before he could stop you, you urged Nox forward—straight into the thick of the storm.

The wind screamed, nearly wrenching you sideways. Nox faltered for half a beat, wings catching an unpredictable current, before correcting himself. Every muscle in your body tensed as you fought against the storm’s wrath, fingers locked onto the saddle’s grip, breath coming in sharp bursts. Rain blurred your vision, the world reduced to a whirlwind of gray and black.

Then, suddenly, he was there, pulling up alongside you, his eyes blazing with something furious.

“Dammit—” He pulled up alongside you, his movements tighter, more controlled. His frustration burned through the storm’s cold, visible even through the sheets of rain. He was keeping pace, but barely. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Not if we move fast!” You yelled back. “We can still—” 

You didn’t have time to finish the sentence before the sky cracked open. A violent gust of wind roared through the canyon, shoving against both your dragons with the force of a tidal wave. Your stomach lurched as you felt Nox’s balance slip.

No. No, no, no—

Nox let out a sharp cry, wings folding in slightly to regain control, but it was too late. The wind had already sent you plummeting.

“Damn it—” Jeonghan veered toward you, Luma’s wings cutting through the rain as he reached for you—too far, too fast—

Nox fought against gravity, twisting, wings snapping open at the last second. The impact hit like a hammer as you broke through the lower clouds, narrowly missing the rocky cliffs below. You gasped, heart hammering against your ribs. Your dragon righted himself, breathing hard, sides heaving.

Jeonghan was already pulling ahead, motioning frantically toward a cave nestled at the cliffside. No more time for reckless flights.

This time, you didn’t argue.

You landed hard, sliding off your dragon before your legs could properly catch you. Your knees nearly buckled, but you caught yourself, breath still coming too fast. Your dragon shook out her wings, letting out a low, exhausted huff.

You barely had time to process before Jeonghan was in front of you, shoving his soaked hood back, fury carved into every inch of him.

“What the hell was that?”

You yanked off your gloves and threw them to the ground, not even bothering to shake out your dripping sleeves. “You tell me! You’re the one who wanted to come out here in the first place!”

“I wasn’t the one who flew straight into the worst part of the storm!” He took a step closer, close enough that you could see the rain trailing down his face, sticking to his lashes. “Do you have any idea how easily that could’ve gone wrong?”

“It didn’t,” you shot back, voice sharp. “Because I knew what I was doing.”

He let out a laugh, short and humorless. “Really? Because from where I was flying, it looked a hell of a lot like you were falling.”

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. “You’re acting like I haven’t been flying my whole life, Jeonghan.”

“You nearly crashed—”

“You wanted to land, Jeonghan! If we’d done that, we would’ve been stranded out in the open—”

“We could’ve waited it out instead of nearly crashing into the sea!” His voice was sharp, raw with frustration. “You don’t think, you just act!”

Your jaw clenched. “You’re calling me reckless? This was your idea, remember? I didn’t drag us out here on some half-baked whim—you did.”

Jeonghan ran a hand through his soaked hair, shaking his head. “This isn’t about the patrol anymore.”

Something in your chest tightened. “Then what is this about?”

He exhaled sharply, like he wasn’t sure if he should say it. “You never listen.” His voice wasn’t loud this time. Just tired. “Every time I try to keep you safe, you fight me. Every. Single. Time.”

You let out a short, bitter laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry—did I ruin your perfect plan? Maybe I should’ve just sat back and let you make all the decisions like you always do.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Because that’s what this is about, isn’t it?” You stepped closer, voice cutting through the space between you. “It’s not about keeping me safe, it’s about control. You want me to follow orders, like everyone else does. Why? Because you’re the chief?”

Jeonghan stared at you, rain trailing down his cheekbones. His fists clenched at his sides. “Because it’s my job to keep you safe.”

The words landed between you like a drawn sword.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “I’m not some helpless villager, Jeonghan. I’m your second-in-command. Or did you forget that?”

His jaw tensed, lips pressing into a thin line. “I didn’t forget.”

“Then stop acting like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Silence thickened around you, the storm’s echoes distant now, muffled by the cave walls. The only sound between you was your heavy breathing, the lingering anger still crackling in the space where your argument had been.

Jeonghan stared at you, something unspoken thrumming behind his eyes. His fists clenched at his sides, chest still rising and falling too fast, too uneven.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” His voice was lower now, rougher, each word carved out of something raw. “I—”

Then he moved.

A sharp inhale was all you managed before his hands were on you, fingers curling into the damp fabric at your waist, pulling you forward with a force that left no room for hesitation. His lips crashed against yours, urgent, desperate, like he was trying to prove something neither of you could ever put into words.

You gasped against him, but your hands found him just as fiercely, gripping onto his tunic like it was the only thing keeping you tethered. His body was warm, feverish, despite the cold seeping into your bones. The kiss was messy—rain-slicked skin, clashing breath, the lingering taste of salt from the storm—but you drank it in like a woman starved.

Jeonghan broke away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breath hot, unsteady. His hands still held you like he didn’t trust himself to let go.

“I can’t—” His voice was hoarse. “I can’t watch you risk yourself like that.”

Your fingers curled against the back of his neck, grounding him. “And I can’t watch you do it either.”

He let out something between a sigh and a laugh, shaking his head slightly before pressing another, softer kiss to your lips. Slower, this time.

No more words. Just the quiet hum of breath shared, the way his touch lingered even as the storm raged on outside.

[naffeclipse]

Sand and Sea

Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

I have the pleasure of being commissioned by @missdreamyhead to write a fluffy and sweet fic for @tubbyartz's birthday! Happy birthday! I hope you have a lovely day! Enjoy a little slice of Orca!Eclipse and the reader in a tropical setting and spending time together in the water! <3

———

Eclipse meant what he said: he would hunt you down to the ends of the earth. There is nowhere you can go where he can’t find you, reach you and draw you back into the water into his sea salt embrace. 

You find yourself rather content with such an arrangement. Leaving the Arctic wasn’t easy, not with how long you knew he would have to wait to find you again, but you sit on a warm, white sand beach. The ocean softly laps up against the land, eager to touch your toes and drench your ankles. 

Where is he? Eclipse is not one to keep you waiting or to stay away from you. He couldn’t hardly keep his hands off of you when he did rediscover you again standing waist-deep in the shallows and eagerly snatching you up to admire you once more. It had only been a few weeks, but he greedily devoured you with his eyes as if he were a man who had been shipwrecked without food for days.

You hum and tap on your journal. There are a few interesting species growing on this island, especially of the fungal kind. You’ve kept yourself busy searching for mushrooms along the decaying wood. The rich moisture and the fallen trees lend to a beautiful crop of fairy inkcap mushrooms and oyster mushrooms. 

Beyond the edges of your journal, the waves splash and toss further from the island, overturning softly with white crests and deep, aquamarine hues. The air is blissfully warm as it heats your skin. The sun shines brightly upon the pale grains of sand. You wiggle your feet a little deeper into the beach just to feel the ground shift and heat the top of your feet. 

You couldn’t have gone farther from the frozen Arctic tundra if you tried. Eclipse doesn’t seem to care that these waters are not of his home—so long as he has you close by. 

You feared for a time that these warm waters would be uncomfortable for him, so unlike the icy, gray wafts of his cold homeland. He reportedly told you that he is none too affected by the change save for getting used to the prey that he must snatch up around the shores of the island. The fish are not as tasty as seals, but he says it means little to him now that he has you.

You catch a sharp red dorsal fin cutting through the surface. You straighten where you sit on the beach, your heart picking up softly at the familiar sight. The water is crystalline and blue, giving way to a sharp shape of black and white and red just below the rippling surface. 

There he is.

Setting your journal aside before it can get wet, you patiently brace for Eclipse to get your attention. You don’t have to wait for his head to rear. Framed in sharp, pointed frills, bleeding burnt orange and deep red hues like a darkening sunset, his face rises above the water with heavy trickles dropping back into the ocean. His black and white crescent mark face splits into a grin. Razor-sharp teeth flash in sheer delight. 

He stops his shark-like approach, almost beached in the shallows. His tail waves slowly side to side and stirs up sand, clouding the space where he lies in anticipation. Resting on his elbows, his sleek and dangerous frame half submerged and revealing his beautiful, shiny pattern of black and white, Eclipse slowly lifts a hand. Arching a black-bone clawed finger, he grins.

“Come closer, mushroom,” he rumbles low, sweet and abysmal. He beckons with his fingers. “I want to see you.”

You lift your chin, a mischievous streak painting you with playful intent. You grin. Eclipse is already on guard, his wide eyes drilling into you with the intensity of twin suns, one yellow, and one red. 

“But it’s so nice on the beach.” You reach down and pat the sand beside you. The heat of the sun warms it underneath your palm. “Won’t you join me?”

His grin turns harsher, askew. He lowers his hand but you watch it drag just underneath the water, cutting into sand and leaving ribbons in his wake. 

“You will be so much warmer in my arms.” As if to emphasize this, he opens them to welcome you into his embrace. His claws curly slightly with a greedy need. “Come closer, my fairy.”

“I didn’t hear a please,” you answer, batting your eyelashes sweetly. “Besides, the sun is so warm already! If you joined me, you could find out for yourself.”

He will beach himself. You know he will, but he wants you in the water today. You see it in how his tail curls, almost as if to slap the surface with his frustrations but the game is still going. It’s his turn now.

Eclipse is no less spirited when he snaps his jaws. “Please, mushroom. I won’t beg again. Come closer. Let me hold you. Let me have you entirely.” 

You brush your hair back over your shoulder. Fixing your red hat, mushroom in shape and dotted with small white specks, you slowly get to your feet. You stand, pushing Eclipse’s patience as you regard the water and then him with a mirthful smile.

“Come closer to me. Meet me halfway,” you press, flippant and challenging, all at once.

The orca siren snarls low, yet he never loses the glimmer in his gaze as he pushes himself up the shore. You balk internally, catch off guard at how quickly he beaches himself, his tail almost entirely out of the water as he regards you with a hunger bordering on something savage. 

“I am here.” He presses a wet hand into the hand, pushing himself into a looming, threatening shadow over the sand. His one claws curl. Your insides bubble at his intensity. “Come. Closer. You only need to take a few steps to be mine.”

Softly, you take a step forward. His eyes flash to your toes curling in the sand and you hold your stance again. A growl rumbles through his chest. You shouldn’t enjoy this so much. He could have sang and already had you in his clutches, but he enjoys your feisty dares as much as you do. Holding yourself strong, you return his gaze unblinkingly. 

“You have to be nice, or else I’ll swim far away.” You bite back a note of laughter.

Eclipse, however, does not. His pulsing chortle echoes, almost rippling over the waves in melodic amusement.

“Even in your siren form, you aren’t fast enough to escape from me.” He holds out a hand. The slickness of his palm, just inches away from snatching the edges of your pale dress. “But I will be good to you. I always am.”

You muse for a moment, and his gaze narrows in the slightest. You’ve reached the end of his rope.

“Be good, my little fairy.” His black bone claws turn underneath the sunlight, glinting wickedly, and you almost choke at how beautiful and terrible they are. “Come closer.”

You have resisted him for long enough. Teasingly, you walk slowly, stretching your stride and sinking into the sand. Eclipse shimmers slightly, almost drying out underneath the baking sun. His tail and fins shift anxiously as if he intends to pounce upon you. Once you move within reach, you can hardly blink before he captures your wrist and gently pulls you down with him.

You laugh once as he quickly covers you in his shadow. He’s been waiting far too long, you imagine. Your knees are propped on otherside of him as he bears down upon you, nearly pinning you underneath his weight before studying you slowly. His looming form provides a gentle reprieve from the harsh sunlight. 

“You need to be good,” he reminds you. A deep rumble vibrates the very air and touches you. You gasp softly underneath him. A claw carefully brushes away a thick, dark brown lock of hair from your face. “I must always have you within reach.”

“You always grab me when you do,” you counter with a pointed look, but a smile traces your lips.

“I want to see you.” He lowers himself until he’s almost laying on top of you. His sleek body gleams and a few drops of water fall from the end of his head frills and onto the sand around you. “All of you. I want to feel how soft and sweet you are.”

Internally, you begin to melt. A softness washes over you, taking you underneath his gentle touch. The orca siren draws his fingertips carefully along your cheekbone, carefully memorizing the shape of your face. His slick touch leaves a residue of sea salt and water behind. It cools your skin gently. He parts his mouth and swipes his tongue over his rows of teeth. Your eyes follow the movement, captivated. He chortles.

“You want to see me as well,” he purrs. “You must have me close. You always want me here with you. Say it.”

You resist for a moment, a teasing retort somewhere in the back of your throat, but he takes hold of your chin and you are lost in his burning eyes. He is too stunning, too overwhelming. Your body is hot and molten. 

Softly, you echo his words. “I do. I want you close to me.” You blush as you keep speaking, unable to resist the red surge in your cheeks. “I want you here with me. Always.”

“Good, my little fairy,” he drawls, and his grin widens with delight, “Come here. Swim with me in the water again.”

He gently tugs you further and further off the sand. You let him, carefully cradled in the strength of his arms, small and tiny in his embrace. You hide your face briefly in the crook of his shoulder. The scent of sea salt and a harsh musk like rime fills your nostrils, and you breathe easier. 

The first touch of the water against your skin sends a shiver up your spine. Quickly, your body adjusts to the warm, soothing temperature of the water. The sand stirs, filling the shallows as Eclipse manages to flip his tail and bring you with him as the slope of land underneath your body falls lower, and lower still. 

“Eclipse?” you ask softly. You touch his hands, holding them tighter to you as he begins swimming from the safety of shore. He easily keeps you above the lapping waves trying to drench your head and mushroom hat. 

“I won’t allow you to sink,” the orca siren rumbles as sweetly as the lowest cords of bass in a song. Held to his chest, the water splashing your sides, you believe him. There is no place safer than within his arms. “I have missed your beautiful tail and how silky your hair becomes in the water. Let me see you like that again.”

He stops well within sight of the island. You turn within his embrace. His large hands rest on your waist and keep you afloat. A gentle shudder falls over you with the encouraging brush of his finger along your spine, pressing the fabric of your soaked dress against your skin. 

“You swam with me yesterday.” You meant to answer with more resolve, more of a teasing bite, but it leaves your lips softly, as if reminiscing on how far he swam with you, the great reefs he helped you explore and then the sandy shore you both laid upon as you explained to him the nature of fungi and how beautifully and diverse they grow.

“I did. I want to see you again.” His gaze softens. His pelvic fins softly sway to keep him steady against the ever nudging presence of the tide. You watch his tail for a moment, breathless. His black and white colors strike out against the blues and his red and orange tipped flukes cut through the depths with ease. 

His hand, slick and salty, cups your cheek. You fall softly into his embrace. Gently, you cup his much larger digits closer against your face. 

“My little fairy. Swim with me,” he murmurs, raspy and yearning. 

His voice lowers to a gentle hum as he presses you closer against him still. Your legs slide against his sleek flesh and your breath rattles out of your throat, overwhelmed by his closeness. How much he hungers for you. You close your eyes and nod gently.

“Alright,” you chuckle, “Just this once.”

But you’ve said that before.

Eclipse clicks a joyful series of sounds. His jaws clap as his hand cups the back of your head. Claws entangled with your long, brown locks. A smile tugs on the corner of your mouth as he closes the distance. 

In the sea, the orca siren dips you low into a kiss, pulling you underneath the surface with a soft swirl of bubbles. The great eruption of magic and power flows into you, set free by his lips and gently pressed into your body, stirring up your marrow and lying over your skin. It is energy and love; it is the will of a siren who has claimed you as his mate.

He gently eases you back. You float softly in the water, but when your lips part, free of his magic and air, you freely intake water. Oxygen flows through you, keeping you buoyant and uncensored as any other fish who swim these crystal clear tides. 

A sweet hum ripples through the water and washes over you. Eclipse eyes roam you freely, hungrily. Softly, you open your arms and look down at yourself, your dress still hanging wet and secure against your body but your legs are no more. Instead, a slender, flowing tail flicks through the sea. You’ve grown used to the waving motion of fins, flipping back and forth—though Eclipse often saves you from such effort by carrying you where you would like to go. 

Long tendrils flow from your mushroom hat. Your senses awaken to the new appendages as they surround you like the tentacles of a jellyfish and your cap acting as the bell. Your hair flows freely through the water, softly twisting and waving. You gently push up your hat to gaze adoringly at Eclipse.

His hands find your waist and gradually slide down. His palms are large, almost squeezing you with his adoration before he brushes a hand softly over a red flowing fin, dotting in white not unlike your mushroom cap. 

His eyes glimmer. A tenderness fills his frame while softly, he admires your stunning new form. It is thanks to him you can even experience the sea in such a way. You wonder if your red tail stands out too much or if the vivid yellow tendrils falling down from your cap are too strange to a siren, but Eclipse easily brushes those aside to meet you underneath the water. His mouth parts and a few bubbles escape. His lips mouth words of sweet nothing. 

You blush fiercely when he takes your face gently in his hands. You breathe softly as he draws nearer. His claw carefully traces the shell of your ear, following the sharp point and admiring it as if it were sea glass or a treasured seashell. How he looks at you, how he holds you spills over with cherishment that sets your heart aflame. It is a miracle the water around you doesn’t bubble and fizz when he at last pushes aside the last of the ocean separating you and captures your mouth sweetly in a kiss.

The gentle pressure of his presence trickles into you, filling you like an empty well given fresh rain. You trace his arms. Underneath your touch, you marvel at the lithe cords of muscle tucked underneath his sleek, shiny skin. His claws wickedly trace the corners of your jawbone until you let out a soft, sweet sound of awe. 

He parts from you gently and grins like a shark with the prey already between his teeth.

Gently, he turns and tugs on your hand. You follow with a flick of your tail, your soft, translucent fins seemingly more for beauty than any speed or agility akin to an orca siren. 

Eclipse told you when he first changed you with his siren song that you are perfect. Though you don’t have his teeth and talons, he promises to protect and provide for you. You always thought he was far too eager to serve, to give you everything, but his love has always been like a floodtide, washing you out to sea with the force of it.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

His flukes flick carefully, minding how you fit along his side. Even in a siren form, you are tiny in comparison to his natural streamline body and cutting-edge fins. You don’t mind. Eclipse has tried to feed you fish time and time again and you refused, opting to wait until you had your human legs back to find food and feast. 

Towards the back end of the island, the trees grow too dense and the ground too muddy and slick to traverse well, but through the water, you arrive without an ounce of difficulty. 

Eclipse gently takes you by the arms, guiding you forward while he swims you faster than you could have hoped. A beautiful reef teams with life, bursting with colors in dozens of corals and darting with tiny fish and creatures who propel and jump and dash through the aquamarine and sunshine dazzling the ground.

You marvel. Your hand softly flies to your mouth as you gaze at the vision. Gently, you reach for Eclipse’s hand. He slows enough for you to push your mushroom cap up, peeking out from underneath, and beam at him with all your might. 

Eclipse chortles. He doesn’t speak in the water but he doesn’t have to. You show him how pleased you are, and softly, while twirling one of your yellow tendrils gently around his finger, Eclipse glides with you over the reef to admire the beautiful wildlife.

[abloomsdayy]

overly specific chair

[luckyartdrawer]

Burning Celestials Ch 2: Fall For Me

2nd Chapter has released, Yippieee! Feel free to read on ao3 or look below the break to read!

Click here for AO3 Link!

Ch 1. Sun, Ch 3. Eclipse

Summary: You were gone, but not really. Somewhere new. Besides the suddenness, you weren't caught too off guard. Moon wasn't either, well, until he actually looked at you that is. 2815 words

When you appeared, he almost completely missed you.

You didn't make a dent in the space around you, a mere speck who should have gone unnoticed and declared unimportant as you arrived. You did absolutely nothing but just show up.

Moon was originally just going on his usual, boring, but necessary, mindless wandering. It's not as if he noticed all the pointed stares you earned, popping out of nowhere, it was more like he noticed the lack of glares being trained on him.

He had half the mind to keep moving, but it was rather unusual for a planet and their orbitals to not actively avoid his presence.

Moon couldn't help but cast a curious glance in the same direction as the spectators, finding himself looking down at the winding roads below. There, beyond the labyrinth of one way trails, compacted dust and rock contained in golden silks of light, was the main attraction. Moon was high above, but even then he could still spot the reason why you had such a captive audience.

You were a being who contained antimatter. Poor thing, frozen to the spot, surrounded by judging eyes.

Moon could've chuckled at your unfortunate fate, if he himself was not living the same story. You just had to be someone with a magnetic pull worthy of rivaling a planet’s. A being not aligned in this cursed place’s straight and narrow hierarchy.

Moon waited as he watched the murmurings dwindle and scatter rapidly, the drifters succumbing to your pull before greedy planets or other moons dramatically pulled them away. The golden roads quickly cleared; the audience plummeting from many to one.

Looks like no one was in the mood to deal with you right away.

Moon had his fill of entertainment for the day, fine with leaving the encounter as this; just a mere glance. Yet, once he made that glance at you, no longer observing how the others observed you, he found something that made it hard to turn away.

You seemed to believe you were now alone, staring at the expanse around you, slowly twirling to take it all in. Your foot snagged on the uneven ground and you fell, your yelp failed to reach him through the thick vacuum of space.

You were nothing impressive… But your confusing emotional state was hard to miss.

What's wrong with you?

He got a little closer, jumping down to a road slightly below the trail he was on. Your figure was somewhat easier to decipher now, what with the void of your body matching the black of the surroundings making it difficult. It's easier to define some of your edges the closer he gets, the colorful dust surrounding your body much more noticeable.

He thought you were a black hole, but perhaps not…

You pushed at the rocks, sifted through the dust, and plucked at the glowing strings that hold the roads together. He couldn't read your emotions from so far, but anyone sane would be able to notice when someone is enchanted by the ground.

How could you be so preoccupied with something like that, especially after what just happened?

So, like any reasonable being, he wanted to know why.

Moon crouched at the path’s edge, coaxing the loose light hanging to the rest of its mass to pull and expand into his hand. He layered it over his shoulder, looping it until he believed he had a long enough spool of light to force a stop.

Then, with a jump, he descended, grasping the end with one hand and guiding the slack with the other as he free-fell.

His world spun, the pieces of his body juddered and grinded together, new crumbs speckling the dark half of his face and body, the murky essence keeping him whole. The feeling of floating completely, being swallowed by the inky black of space even for a moment…

It's so easy to get lost in it.

If he were to just let go…

Unfortunately he remembered to shake the euphoric feeling away; he couldn't allow it while on this little escapade. The easy glide through space led him so close to you, but with a simple twist of his leg and foot around the leftover slack, he stopped upside-down just a couple of feet above you. 

Your pull was there, but only noticeable within this close radius. At least, for him that is... That odd detail by itself already planted a seed within his mind.

He's never felt a pull like this before…

Moon watched silently as you fiddled with the light, hearing your quiet awes at how it bends and allows your hand to push through with enough force. When you raised yourself back to standing however, he decided to finally announce himself.

His voice surprised you so bad that you stumbled back to the ground, twisting onto your back to look up at him.

How unperceptive. It's… cute.

Moon could practically feel the tension radiating off of you, but he focused on his inspection of you as you collected yourself. He's heard of beings appearing from nowhere, but this is the first time he's seen someone who has.

You certainly fit the part…

Besides your unusual coverings, the biggest thing he took note of was your eyes… They're a blindingly bright white, somehow not swallowed by the void of your body.

It confused Moon greatly; the Black holes that brought him to existence had no facial features at all. They were all but swallowed whole once they became the cold creatures they were doomed to be, or so the story goes. Even the antimatter that keeps himself together threatens to swallow his 2nd eye.

Yet here you are without even a single vortex, stardust hovering around you with controlled ease. How are you calmly defying the unstoppable?

He wanted to unravel these mysteries that are suddenly piling up. Questions that he would usually never care for start to form in his mind, all directed at you.

After you relaxed in his presence and struck up a hesitant introduction, you desperately took his offer to travel with you when he acknowledged your lost expression. As he uncoiled and released himself from the golden rope, you caught him off guard with how quick you aimed to seek out answers to every little thing, starting with his now abandoned shortcut.

Seems both of you wanted to unravel the other.

Moon wasn't unreceptive to your lines of questioning, despite how new this kind of interaction is to him, rather, he was oddly charmed by them.

They were such simple queries, grounded in reality.

There were no untold rules or distrust of his presence. It was as if you didn't even feel the radius of his magnetism, easily wandering close and far from him as you wandered together.

Perhaps your pull was just simply stronger than his?

Yet, that same pull, as much as it coaxes him in, is gentle. Open. An invite rather than a demand.

It's not the commandeering gravity of the planets or the black holes, dragging all who cannot resist their orbit as part of their entourage. The cold war between those with such intense pulls is mind numbing. One claiming that it is their birthright to rule, while the other simply exists, unable to help themselves from eventually consuming those they ensnare, bit by bit.

Yet here you are, nothing like them. You don't demand anything from him. You don't cast him out for not clinging to you like how he “should” be.

To you, he's more than just a Moon, but probably no more than anyone else.

Moon would much rather prefer if all pulls felt like yours. He hoped his own enticed you just as much, if to just keep you from eventually drifting too far away.

You rapidly became a new comfort.

Watching him with wide doe eyes.

Falling in step, side by side.

To say it was intoxicating would be a little on the nose.

He taught you about so many things as the cycles passed; made more reasons for you to drift closer.

He rambled about the expanse beyond that none can touch. Moon would tell you all the fables and constellations of every system he's ever seen, if you'd just ask. He'd point out the colors that occasionally blend in the universe, explaining their meanings in mythos; it's something so enchanting that he cannot help but stand and watch from time to time, an explosion of dust and color shining through a dark, star-filled void.

It's beautiful, but unreachable.

You made the rather astute observation that the view looked like you...

Exactly, so don't leave.

Don't drift away or become untouchable.

Be his piece of the sky.

He emphasized how the roads never end and are always shifting in the loose expanse of space. Not built by the celestials but rather as if weaved by reality for their very way of life. The theories and beliefs of some other worldly beings never cease to prickle at his mind. These strange roads of fate wind around gigantic planets, becoming paths that allow celestials to reside wherever they'd like on each one, while others find comfort in reaching a star and carving out their own home within.

Despite how encouraging the winding paths are for wandering celestials, Moon chose to never keep a home. The moment he stupidly told you, you immediately set out to make him one.

He couldn’t risk getting caught, let alone having you do such a thing for him. He told you as such; the black holes will find him, the planets will chase him away, yet you debated with him over it repeatedly.

The pesky insistent attitude annoyed him with how much emotion that welled up within him.

Longing.

Hope.

Fear.

Craving.

Desolation.

Excitement.

He could have shot you down, left, and kept safe, even after you found an, admittedly , lovely vacant star to occupy. But… He wouldn't willingly pull away that far.

He loves how you cling to him, even during an argument. He'd save unsaid counterpoints just so he could start the bickering again when feeling particularly needy. Addicted to your touch.

What may have finally convinced him to stay was when you pouted, saying you'll just live there without him.

And oh… when he realized you intended to stay with him.

The flutter in the dark matter that keeps him whole made him pang. Burn in a million different ways. Pine to hold you. Beg to absorb you.

You wanted to stay with him . Live with him.

Not that random you'd frivolously talk about when explaining your past.

Part of Moon ever regrets asking, jealous of the tone shift of your voice becoming more animated and lively when you started to talk about another man. The way he’d taught you things before Moon ever had the chance of meeting you. The kiss you shared before you suddenly departed from him…

He usually tried his best to constantly keep that character out of his mind, wanting to be blissfully ignorant. He wanted to live in his fantasy where the universe was just you and him.

But now…

Did he finally get you to stop seeing that man in every little thing you saw?

Oh, please… Please let it be true.

You're too alluring to ignore the feelings in his chest anymore. He's been hooked on you the moment he saw you.

It's so hard to pretend that he doesn't want to pull you in. Mesh together until one is the other. Take him fully and wholly.

He wants to revel in you.

Stop chasing someone else light-years away when he's right here…

He couldn't just tell you, no no no, not when you could still be enamored with that memory. So he showed it in small ways. Enough to quell his bleeding heart into a sore ache. Begging for you to see his signs.

Let him entice you.

Come to him, follow his pull, like he does with yours.

He'd let you hang off his arm when you needed some reprieve from the constant walking, he feels stronger than the universe when you ask to be carried.

He'd hold you close from behind and tuck his head into your shoulder whenever either of you was emotional or introspective, disguising his selfish cravings as a physical comfort. Though, it's not much of a disguise if you were to see his wandering, clouded eyes.

He'd comfortably stand with you, regardless of where or why, and look into your eyes. Your acknowledgement or returned gaze was not necessary, you seem to have grown used to it and continue on with whatever work you carved out for today. Just seeing you from up close, being allowed to speak, allowed to touch, allowed to admire; it's enough to keep his twitching, itching, scratching desires at bay. 

He'd woven a staircase of light from the golden path and connected it to your shared home, large but dazzling railings encasing his creation to ensure you'd never fall into the void below.

He'd never let you fall without him.

So fall for him, please.

Crash into him so hard that he breaks from the inside out.

He's always been so fragile, but you are the only one allowed to shatter him.

Moon feels such desire constantly. Each smile thrown his way, all the appreciative shows of thanks, and every shiver from you in his arms makes him hope more and more.

You fulfill every craving.

He can't part from you, refuses to, so give him anything and everything you're willing to.

Please.

Shatter him completely.

He couldn't wait anymore unfortunately.

You never took the plunge, at least not openly. Now he couldn't let you come to him, not at a time like this.

The black holes finally tracked him down. The planets were furious at their arrival. You both were surrounded by each party; the all encompassing and possessive beings that hungered for something to fill their empty voids, and the prideful and spiteful monarchs that won't allow a single one of their charges or harems to be taken from them, regardless of the feelings of their lessers.

The black holes wanted to keep building upon him, the only being they so far able to create rather than destroy. Something they could feed off of for all eternity.

The Planets wanted him and you gone, a looming hidden threat to their ever growing rule, believing that you'd both side with the destruction of the black holes.

Cornered from both sides, home invaded and crushed into stardust, Moon did the only thing he could do.

And you'd fall with him.

Yanking you by the collar into his chest, he leaped past the ledge.

The twine of light he held in his other hand was the only tether between the two of you and land. He held you close and spun, allowing the string to tie you two tightly together.

Even in this situation, the uncertainty of it all, his heart is soaring.

You're so close, reliant on him. Your terrified screams as you hide your face into his chest only proves it. He's elated, euphoric even, to be here with you. The light you emit shines as brighter than anything he's ever seen.

If he closes his eyes and relaxes his body, he could even feel like he's one with the void.

One with you. The two of you are just masses of antimatter, dust, and light.

What a wonderful dream…

Your screams stop and his tight hold becomes suddenly loose.

His eyes open and with an enchanted sigh he becomes breathless.

His tether is gone.

The golden roads are so far away.

You are not in his arms.

Tears flood out of his good eye as you've done exactly what he dreaded.

You drifted away. You became one with the sky. You became untouchable.

Without him.

But oh, look at you… You're everywhere, flooding his vision with black and white, speckles of colored gas and dust gently floating in the void. You're right where you belong.

He couldn't stay mad at you for that. All he can hope is that soon enough he will be one with the sky too.

Together you'd be the greatest mythos to grace the universe. Even if he'd be the only one to believe in it.

Tingles dance upon his back as he allows his vision to blur.

If he focuses enough, it still feels like you're there.

Holding him. In his arms. Feeling the warmth and coolness of your bodies mingling together.

He dreams of his lips dancing across the crook of your neck like he was always tempted to do.

Trailing along the path he'd measure daily in his mind.

He dreams of your lips meeting his.

A gift from the divine, a taste of the untouchable.

Then finally, he dreams of black.

[theonlyonesora]

The Shift

Nico Rosberg x Reader x Lewis Hamilton

The night was made of champagne flutes and shimmering silk dresses, laughter gliding like a breeze over the balustrades of a villa perched high above Monaco. You stood alone, your heels barely making a sound on the marble terrace, the hem of your dress fluttering in the sea-kissed wind. Below, the city glittered like someone had spilled diamonds into the coastline.

You hadn’t planned on coming alone. You had arrived with Lewis. His hand had rested low on your back as cameras flashed. Whispers floated around you. “Who is she?” “His date?” “Just friends?”

But now, he was nowhere near. Somewhere across the crowd, Lewis was laughing with someone else—a model, maybe, or a team sponsor, her hand brushing his arm just a little too familiarly.

You tried not to look again.

And then—

“Not your scene?” A deep, familiar voice.

You turned, and there he was. Nico Rosberg. His golden hair tousled by the breeze, tuxedo undone at the collar, that effortless charm he'd always carried like a tailored suit. His eyes met yours—intelligent, amused, warm.

“I could say the same for you,” you replied, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

Nico stepped beside you, offering a drink from a nearby waiter’s tray like it was choreographed. “I’m more of a quiet-bar-and-good-conversation type these days,” he said, tilting his glass toward the crowd. “This? All noise.”

You clinked your glass with his. “So what’s kept you here?”

He looked at you. Really looked. And it was as if the night stilled.

“You.”

Your breath hitched just slightly. A rush of wind curled through your hair, and for the first time that evening, you didn’t feel left behind.

You laughed, light and a little nervous, sipping your drink. “Careful. People might start to talk.”

Nico’s smile curved like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Let them.”

He offered you his arm, and you took it—like it had always been yours. You walked the perimeter of the terrace together, voices murmuring in your wake.

Later, when the party had thinned out and the sea was louder than the music, Nico pulled his jacket around your shoulders. You stood together at the railing, close enough that your fingertips brushed.

“I don’t usually get involved in these things anymore,” he murmured.

You looked up at him, moonlight catching the soft lines of his face. “Then why now?”

He smiled, small and almost shy. “Because some things feel different. And I don’t want to let them pass.”

And when his fingers found yours, interlaced them like he’d been waiting to all night, your heart knew something had shifted—quietly, impossibly, under the stars of Monaco.

.

The soft gold of the Monaco sunrise poured through the sheer curtains of Nico’s penthouse, gilding everything it touched—the white sheets tangled at your waist, the ocean glittering just beyond the glass, and the man lying next to you, already awake but content to just watch.

His arm was curled lazily around your middle, your cheek resting on his chest. You could still smell the faint salt in his hair from the sea breeze the night before, mingling with the warmth of his skin and the scent of his cologne—quietly masculine, understated and grounding. Nico wasn’t the kind of man who needed to make noise to command a room. He simply existed, and people turned.

“I can’t believe it,” you murmured into his skin, voice still heavy with sleep. “We were on Page Six before breakfast.”

He chuckled softly, fingers trailing the bare curve of your hip, slow and soothing. “You mean this breakfast?” he said, reaching to show you his phone. On the screen: a pap photo from the party. You and Nico, walking toward his car, your hand in his, a smile playing on both your lips like a shared secret. The headlines were unforgiving.

“Rosberg’s New Flame? Former World Champion Spotted Leaving Party With Hamilton’s Plus One” “Scandal in the Streets of Monaco: Exes, Allies, and a Mysterious Woman in Red”

You laughed despite yourself, covering your face. “I wore one backless dress…”

“And looked too good in it,” Nico teased, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “That’s your real crime.”

Your phone buzzed across the nightstand.

Lewis.

The preview of the message alone made your heart sink a little.

“You were my guest. That wasn’t cool. You know what that looked like.”

You sat up slowly, Nico watching you with a quiet, thoughtful expression. You passed him the phone. “He messaged me.” He read it, gave a small exhale.

By the time Nico had gone into the kitchen to make coffee, your phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t just a passive-aggressive text. It was Lewis—with more to say.

Lewis Hamilton: I’m not angry. Not really. But I invited you to the party. I brought you into that space. And you left with him. You know what the media’s going to do with that. You were my friend. At least, I thought you were. Just… don’t respond. I needed to say it. That’s all.

Your heart ached as the words sunk in. Lewis wasn’t cruel—he never was. But disappointment had a sound, and it was in every full stop. You stared at the message for a long time, letting the morning quiet around you grow louder.

.

You didn’t say much to Nico when you slipped your arms into your dress again. The fabric still smelled like his cologne, like saltwater and sun and the kiss he’d pressed to your neck as you both fell asleep.

He drove you back to your hotel, one hand on the wheel, sunglasses shielding his eyes, the wind from the early Monaco coast combing through his hair.

When he pulled up outside the glass-fronted hotel, he didn’t park. Just rested his hand briefly on your thigh, gave you a small smile.

“You’ll be alright?”

You nodded, lips curved into something soft and uncertain. “Of course.”

He leaned in, pressed one last kiss to your cheek, just enough to leave your skin tingling.

But then… he didn’t ask for your number.

And you didn’t offer it.

Maybe he thought you’d give it. Maybe you thought he already had it. Maybe it was just meant to be one night.

You stepped out of the car with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

The glass doors slid open. Monaco buzzed behind you. And somewhere in between champagne kisses and unread messages, something fleeting had bloomed and vanished like sea foam on the shore.

[blairwritingscript]

**Hunters of the Silent Moon**

PAIRINGS : Yautjas x F!Reader

SUMMARY : Two yautjas come down and take you hostage on their ship to become an experiment.

AUTHORS NOTE : part 11 soon, I try posting two times a day, this fic is not dead :D

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six) (part seven) (part eight) (part nine) (part ten)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night was thick with humidity, the air alive with the chorus of insects and the rustle of unseen creatures in the dense jungle. A lone village lay nestled in the shadows of the towering trees, its simple dwellings dimly lit by oil lamps. The people slept, unaware that they were being watched.

High above, perched on the thick limb of a ceiba tree, two figures crouched—hulking, unseen, their presence masked by shifting waves of light and shadow. Their cloaking devices shimmered faintly against the moonlight filtering through the canopy. They had come to hunt, but not for sport. Tonight’s prize was no trophy, no skull to polish or spine to mount in honor.

Tonight, they sought a specimen.

**"The air here is thick with heat,"** the larger of the two Yautja rumbled in their guttural tongue, his voice distorted slightly through his bio-mask. His name was Ka’Thar, a veteran of many hunts. **"Strong stock. This world breeds survivors."**

Beside him, his younger companion, Vey’ta, adjusted his mask’s vision mode, scanning the village below. His mandibles twitched in consideration. **"We must be careful. They are fragile, but their kind is unpredictable."**

Ka’Thar let out a low, rumbling chuckle. **"That is what makes them valuable."**

For centuries, the Yautja had tested humanity, culling the strong and erasing the weak. But there were other uses for this species—uses that went beyond the thrill of the hunt. Their elders had deemed it necessary to bring back a female, one of prime genetic stock. Whether for experimentation, study, or something else, Ka’Thar did not question. He was a hunter, not a scientist. His duty was only to retrieve the target.

Vey’ta zoomed in on the village, his mask highlighting figures in warm shades of orange and red. **"There,"** he murmured, marking a young woman moving between the huts. She carried a bundle of firewood, her form lean but strong, her gait confident despite the darkness.

Ka’Thar studied her. **"That one. She will do."**

A silent agreement passed between them.

The hunt had begun.

The jungle was alive with sound, but she moved through it with practiced ease. The woman—Y/N—had grown up in this village, knew its paths, its dangers. The darkness did not frighten her.

She balanced the firewood in her arms as she stepped between the huts, her mind lost in thought. The night was unusually still now. No insects, no wind. A hush had fallen, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Then—

A whisper of movement.

Y/N spun, her heart hammering. Nothing. Just shadows shifting between the trees. She exhaled slowly, shaking off the unease. Maybe a jaguar, watching from the undergrowth. But the jungle cats always made their presence known before striking. This felt different.

She turned back toward her hut—

And froze.

A massive shape loomed before her, seemingly appearing from nowhere. The air around it shimmered, bending like heat waves before solidifying into something real. A towering figure, armored, monstrous. Its mask caught the moonlight, the reflective lenses locking onto her with a predatory focus.

Y/N dropped the firewood and bolted.

A guttural click echoed behind her.

Her feet pounded against the dirt as she sprinted between the huts, her breath sharp and ragged. She didn’t know what she had seen—only that it wasn’t human. She had to warn the others—

But then something hit her. Hard.

A heavy net exploded around her, tightening instantly, knocking her off balance. She crashed to the ground, gasping as the cords dug into her skin. She struggled, kicking wildly, but the more she moved, the tighter it constricted.

Boots thudded against the ground as the two beings approached.

Y/N’s breath came fast, her mind screaming at her to move, to fight. One of the creatures crouched beside her, tilting its head as it observed her. She caught a glimpse of its mandibles twitching beneath the mask.

**"She fights."** The voice was deep, distorted.

The second creature huffed. **"Good. The weak are not worth the effort."**

Y/N twisted, reaching for the knife at her hip. Her fingers found the handle, pulled—

The first creature moved in a blur. A powerful hand clamped around her wrist, stopping her effortlessly. The strength behind its grip was inhuman.

She bared her teeth, defiant. **"Let me go!"** she snarled, wrenching against the restraint.

The creature tilted its head again, as if considering her words. Then it reached up and pressed something on its gauntlet.

A sharp hiss—

And the world faded to black.

[earthlybeam]

Could you write about reader welcoming Haldir home after a long patrol?

Thank you 💕 your writing really is fantastic.

Haldir’s patrol is taking longer than usual, and you, his lover, can’t shake the worry creeping in. Every passing moment without word makes you more anxious, your thoughts racing with concern.

Haldir version below

🏹𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓻

The golden trees of Lothlórien stood sentinel in the fading light, their delicate leaves rustling softly in the evening breeze. Their beauty was undeniable, a reflection of the timeless grace of the Golden Wood, but tonight, it was lost on you. Your heart was a tangle of fear and unease. Haldir was late. He had left in the pale light of dawn, his voice calm as he reassured you. “I will return by sundown,” he had said, his hand brushing yours in a fleeting, tender gesture before he vanished into the forest with his patrol. Yet now, the moon hung high, casting a silver glow over the woods, and still, he was nowhere to be seen.

You paced the length of your shared bedchambers, your steps growing quicker and more frantic with each passing moment. The carved wooden floor creaked faintly beneath you, the only sound in the suffocating quiet. You had tried to distract yourself—tidying the space, brewing tea you couldn’t bring yourself to drink—but nothing could quell the storm of anxious thoughts. Haldir was skilled, you reminded yourself. No one knew the borders of Lothlórien better than he. His senses were sharper than any blade, his bow unmatched. But even the finest warrior could falter. The world beyond these golden woods was cruel and dangerous. Orcs, trolls, ambushes—they were not invincible threats.

You paused, pressing a hand to your chest, as if the gesture could steady the racing of your heart. The shared bedchambers suddenly felt too small, too still. You couldn’t bear it any longer. Grabbing your cloak, you wrapped it tightly around your shoulders and descended the spiraling stairs to the forest floor below. The air was cool against your skin, carrying with it the familiar, earthy scent of the woods. But tonight, the calm of the forest felt ominous, every sound amplified, every shadow a potential threat. The leaves whispered above you, their movement like hushed voices sharing secrets you couldn’t decipher.

You walked the well-worn paths beneath the trees, your boots muffled by the soft undergrowth. The moonlight filtered through the canopy in silvery patches, casting shifting patterns that your restless mind interpreted as movement. Your breath hitched with every distant rustle, every faint sound that echoed through the stillness. “Haldir,” you called softly, your voice trembling as it broke the silence.

The sound barely carried, and the stillness that followed was unbearable. Your pulse quickened as you scanned the shadows, searching desperately for some sign of him. Nothing. Only the quiet sigh of the wind through the leaves. You bit your lip, your fingers tightening around the edges of your cloak. The fear that had gnawed at you all evening began to swell, threatening to overwhelm you. What if something had happened to him? What if he was out there, wounded—or worse—beyond your reach? “Haldir,” you whispered again, louder this time, though your voice wavered. It felt like the woods themselves were holding their breath, their silence unyielding. You wrapped your arms around yourself, staring into the moonlit forest, silently pleading with the shadows to release him to you.

The ache in your chest grew sharper, and for a moment, you were unsure if you could keep moving. The thought of not finding him—of never seeing him step through the trees again with that calm, steady presence that you had come to rely on—was too much to bear. You exhaled shakily, your breath clouding faintly in the night air. Somewhere deep in the woods, he was out there. He had to be. You clung to that hope as you took another step forward, the moonlight catching in your eyes as they scanned the path ahead.

To you, it felt as though you had been pacing the same patch of ground for hours, your feet moving with a restless urgency that matched the growing unease within you. The soft, golden light of the Lothlórien trees flickered like stars in the moonlight, their leaves shimmering in the evening breeze, but none of their beauty could reach the depths of your worry. Every rustling branch, every whisper of wind, seemed to echo your anxiety. You paused yet again, staring into the shadows of the forest, but your mind was no longer seeing the familiar paths. Instead, it conjured only the worst possibilities.

What if something had gone wrong? What if Haldir had been caught off guard? What if he was hurt, alone, unable to make it back? What if… what if he didn’t return at all? The questions turned in your mind like a relentless tide, each one more chilling than the last. You swallowed hard, trying to quiet the panic rising in your chest, but it only seemed to grow, squeezing at your ribs, tightening around your heart. The evening air felt colder now, the silence in the woods too heavy. You blinked rapidly, your eyes stinging as tears threatened to spill. The thought of losing him was unbearable, and yet, it lingered in the back of your mind, always just within reach.

You wiped your face with trembling hands, feeling a helplessness take hold of you. Your thoughts were so tangled, your body exhausted from walking in circles through the moonlit glade. You had ventured so far from your talan that the comfort of home felt a distant memory, and now, with every passing moment, you began to question whether you had made a mistake by coming out here. What good was it to search in the dark? Yet, turning back seemed impossible. You couldn’t leave without knowing he was safe.

And then, just as your resolve began to crumble, a sudden movement caught your eye, something in the distance shifting through the trees. You froze, your breath catching in your throat, your heart leaping, suspended for a moment between dread and hope. At first, it seemed as though the shadows themselves were playing tricks on you, the rustle of leaves or perhaps a ripple of moonlight on the forest floor. But no. It wasn’t just a trick of the eye. A figure emerged from the darkness, tall and unmistakable. Haldir…

Your pulse quickened, your breath faltering as he stepped into the moonlight. The faint glow of the silvery beams caught his golden hair, making it seem almost ethereal, like something born of the stars themselves. But even in that ethereal light, you could see something was wrong. His steps were slower than usual, more deliberate, as if each movement took more effort than the last. He appeared wearier than you’d ever seen him before, the usual effortless grace of his movements tainted by exhaustion. His cloak was tattered from the rough journey, heavy with the dirt of the patrol, the deep folds of his garments stained from the hours spent in the forest.

His face, usually so stern and composed, bore the marks of a hard-fought day. A shallow cut marred his cheek, a thin streak of red staining the pale skin. But even the evidence of a battle, the telltale signs of fatigue, did little to diminish his presence. His eyes, sharp and unwavering, scanned the forest for a moment before they locked onto you. The instant his gaze found yours, the tension in his features seemed to soften. The weariness on his face turned into something warmer, more familiar—a quiet, relieved smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

Your breath hitched as your gaze locked on the movement in the distance. At first, the shadows played tricks on your eyes, but then, with unmistakable clarity, you saw him—tall, poised, and golden-haired, emerging from the darkened woods. The moonlight touched his figure, casting a soft glow over his form, making him appear almost otherworldly. For a moment, the weight of your worry lifted, only to be replaced by an immediate, sharp rush of fear. His steps were slower than usual, his gait heavy, the unmistakable signs of exhaustion clouding his usual grace. A shadow passed over him, and though you could see the outline of his familiar frame, something in his posture struck you.

Behind him, the rest of his patrol followed in silence, their movements ghostly in the gloom of the trees. A deep knot of anxiety twisted inside you, but as you looked closely at the elf leading them, your heart slowed, if only for a beat. It was him. Haldir. He was here. Before your mind could process more, your body moved on its own. You stumbled forward, your feet carrying you through the silent glade as your chest tightened with overwhelming emotion. Your breath quickened as you called his name, the tremor in your voice betraying the fear you had kept buried.

“Haldir!” He halted at the sound of your voice, his head lifting with an almost imperceptible shift, his sharp, golden eyes locking with yours. Despite the strain on his face, his gaze softened the moment it found you, and you saw the brief flicker of relief in his expression. As your eyes met, you could see the exhaustion that had taken hold of him—the slight droop of his shoulders, the deep lines around his eyes that spoke of long hours under the strain of the patrol. Yet, beneath all of that, he still stood strong, his presence unwavering. As you closed the distance between you, every step you took seemed to be drawn from the deep well of longing you’d felt all evening. The quiet night air seemed to stand still as you neared him, and then, without thought or hesitation, you threw yourself into his arms.

His reaction was instinctive—immediate, powerful. He caught you, his arms wrapping around you with a steadiness that grounded you in the moment. The relief that flooded you was almost overwhelming, and you buried your face against his chest, feeling the fabric of his cloak and the solid warmth of him beneath. The rush of emotion you’d kept at bay for so long—fear, worry, longing—finally spilled over as tears welled up, unbidden, and fell freely down your cheeks. His scent—earth, pine, and something uniquely Haldir—wrapped around you, filling your senses with the comfort of home. “I worried for you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, muffled against the folds of his cloak. Your fingers clutched at the fabric as if holding him could undo all the fear that had held you captive. “You were so late… I thought—”

“I know, meleth nîn,” he murmured softly, his voice warm and soothing, like a balm to your troubled soul. His lips brushed the crown of your head, a light, tender touch that carried more comfort than words ever could. “I am sorry to have caused you worry.” He shifted then, pulling back just enough to look down at you, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. The faint moonlight caught his features, softening them even as weariness lingered in the lines of his face. His tired eyes, however, still held the same depth of care they always had. As you gazed up at him, you saw the exhaustion etched into his face, but it was his eyes—his eyes that softened as they met yours—that made your heart ache with both relief and renewed concern. “The patrol took longer than expected,” he explained softly, his voice lower than usual, as if the weight of the long hours had settled deep into his bones. “The borders were troubled tonight.”

“Troubled?” Your voice caught in your throat, a fresh wave of fear rising at his words. Without thinking, your hands moved to his face, cupping his jaw gently as you sought the truth of his well-being in his expression. Your thumb traced the shallow cut on his cheek, the evidence of the struggle he’d faced. “Are you hurt?”

“Nothing that will not heal,” he reassured you, his hand lifting to cover yours as it rested on his cheek. The warmth of his palm against yours grounded you, his touch as steady and sure as ever, even though you could feel the lingering tension in his body. “I could not leave until the threat was dealt with.” His voice softened further, the words heavy with the weight of his duty. “I would not bring danger back to you.”

You leaned into his touch, the comfort of his hand on your face helping to still the fluttering, restless fear in your chest. His words were meant to soothe, but still, you couldn’t help the deep ache in your heart. You knew Haldir, knew the weight of his responsibilities. The way he always carried the burden of protecting the woods and those he loved. But even so, hearing the echoes of danger in his voice made something twist inside you. “You always carry the weight of these woods,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, the words catching like a knot in your throat. “And I always worry.” His hand, warm and steady, slid gently along your cheek, his thumb brushing over the delicate curve of your skin before settling beneath your jaw. His eyes searched yours, and in them, you saw not just the fatigue of a long patrol, but the reassurance of his promise.

“And I always return to you,” he said, his voice soft but unwavering. The words settled over you like a blanket, like a promise that spanned the depths of the years you had spent together. “No matter how long it takes.” You closed your eyes, leaning into him, feeling the weight of the world shift with the certainty in his words. You let your forehead rest gently against his, the steady rhythm of his breath syncing with your own as the world around you seemed to quieten. The wind through the trees, the distant calls of the night creatures—everything blurred into the background. For now, he was here, safe and whole, and you allowed yourself to hold onto that truth for as long as you could. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

As you walked side by side, the path back to your shared chambers felt both endless and timeless. The steady cadence of your footsteps was a balm to your anxious mind, the rhythm of him beside you grounding you further with each step. His hand, still warm and solid in yours, conveyed more than words ever could—a reassurance, a silent promise that he was there, and he would always return to you….

Haldir’s pace was slower than usual, his body weary from the night’s patrol. The weight of his responsibilities, of the long hours spent on watch, clung to him like an invisible burden. His usual grace seemed dulled by exhaustion, the strain of protecting Lothlórien evident in the subtle slump of his broad shoulders. Yet, even in this state, he exuded an undeniable strength, a quiet confidence that you had come to know well. The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the canopy above, casting ethereal shadows on the forest floor. You could hear the distant rustling of leaves as the wind stirred the trees, but it felt distant, like a world apart. Everything outside of the two of you seemed to fade into the background. The calls of night creatures, the chirping of crickets—they were all drowned out by the steady beat of your heart, now aligned with his.

Neither of you spoke for a time, but there was a comfort in the silence between you. His mere presence beside you, his hand in yours, was enough to quiet the storm of worries that had plagued your mind earlier. The worst of your fears had already been pushed back by the certainty of his touch. You didn’t need to ask him what had happened on the patrol, nor did he seem inclined to speak of it. The absence of words felt like an unspoken agreement—a mutual understanding that whatever danger had lurked out there in the woods was no longer something to concern you. Haldir was home. That was all that mattered now.

His grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly as if sensing your unspoken thoughts, and you squeezed his hand in return, the connection between you palpable. It was in these small gestures that you found comfort. You knew that no matter what the world threw at him, he would always return to you. And as the familiar silhouette of your talan came into view, the sense of relief in your chest deepened. The night’s uncertainty faded into the past, replaced by the simple, profound truth that Haldir was safe, and you were together once more. The path back had been long, but the journey now seemed to have reached its destination.

When you arrived, you ushered him inside, your eyes never leaving him as you gently guided him to the edge of bed, His movements were slower now, and you could see the exhaustion etched into his features—the subtle sag of his shoulders, the tiredness in his golden eyes that had become duller from the long hours and the strain of his duties. Without saying a word, you moved to fetch a basin of warm water, the soft clink of the ceramic bowl breaking the quiet of the room.

You returned to him and, without asking, he tilted his head slightly, offering you the access you needed to the cut on his cheek. The wound was shallow, but the blood had dried dark against his pale skin, leaving a faint trail that you could not ignore. You took a cloth from the table, soaking it gently in the warm water, and knelt in front of him, your hands steady as you approached the mark.

Your fingers were delicate as you began to clean the dried blood, your movements tender as you wiped away the evidence of the night’s struggles. Haldir sat quietly, his gaze fixed on you, though his expression softened in a way that only he could—faint, but unmistakable. The quiet hum of the evening drifted around you both, the weight of the silence wrapping around you as you tended to him. You couldn’t help but let your thoughts wander, your heart heavy with the memory of the hours you spent in worry.

As you gently wiped away the last traces of blood from his cheek, you couldn’t suppress the words that had been gnawing at you since his absence. “I hate when you’re late,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. It was raw, fragile, and it trembled as you spoke the truth that had been suffocating you. “I can’t stop thinking of what might happen to you out there… what could go wrong.” Your hands hovered for a moment, the ache of your fear making your heart squeeze. Haldir’s hand reached up then, his fingers brushing over your knuckles in a soft, comforting gesture.

He caught your hand gently, bringing it up to his lips for a fleeting kiss to your fingers, and his thumb traced a slow, reassuring arc over the skin of your palm. His voice, low and filled with affection, cut through the weight of your worry. “And I hate to see you worry so,” he said quietly, his words wrapping around you like a shield. “But know this: no matter how far I must go, I will always return to you. Always.”

The softness of his words, coupled with the quiet strength behind them, soothed the ache in your chest. His words were a promise, a vow, and they settled deep into your soul, grounding you with the certainty that he would always come back to you. In that moment, nothing else seemed to matter. You leaned forward, drawn into him as the quiet room seemed to fall away. Without hesitation, you sank into his embrace, your arms wrapping around him as you pressed your cheek against the warmth of his chest. His arms encircled you instantly, holding you close, his strength, his warmth, the very presence of him filling the space between you.

For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to release the tension that had coiled tightly in your muscles, your body relaxing against him as his steady heartbeat steadied your own. The fear that had clung to you like a shadow began to dissipate, replaced by the comforting, constant presence of Haldir in your arms. The world beyond Lothlórien was dangerous, that much you knew. There would always be threats, always be fears lurking on the borders of their peaceful realm, but here, in the shelter of your shared chambers, in his arms, you felt safe. For now, you could face whatever came, because Haldir was home. And for the moment, that was all that mattered…

The warmth of Haldir’s embrace, the steady rhythm of his breathing, settled you further into the safety of your shared space. You leaned back against the softness of the bedding, your bodies intertwined, enveloped by the quiet peace that seemed to radiate from him. The faint glow of moonlight streamed through the window, casting soft, shifting shadows that danced across the walls, but inside your room, there was only him. The world outside, with its dangers and uncertainties, felt like a distant memory, a fading echo.

Haldir, always attuned to you, seemed to sense the lingering traces of your unease. His fingers, warm and gentle, threaded through your hair with a tenderness that sent a wave of relief through you. The touch was soft and deliberate, as if he were mapping out every strand, memorizing the texture of your hair, the sensation of you beneath his hands. His movements were slow, deliberate, each stroke of his fingers brushing against your scalp with a reverence that spoke of his love and devotion. There was something profoundly comforting in the way his touch grounded you, pulling you further into the moment, making the world outside feel small and insignificant. His hands, strong yet gentle, moved through the silken strands, calming the storm of thoughts and fears that had threatened to take hold.

His lips, warm and soft, brushed against your forehead, his kiss lingering there for a moment longer than the last. The sensation was both tender and reassuring, as though with each kiss, he was erasing the fear from your heart, replacing it with the quiet certainty of his love. First one kiss, then another, a soft rhythm that matched the beating of your heart. You could feel the weight of his affection in each press of his lips, his love seeping into your skin, soothing the frayed edges of your mind. When his lips lingered a little longer on your forehead, you could almost feel the silent promise in the air between you—a promise of protection, of love, and of his unyielding devotion.

“You need not worry so, meleth nîn,” he murmured softly, his voice a balm to your racing thoughts. His words wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, the warmth of his breath brushing your skin. “I am home now, and I will always return to you. The woods can be dangerous, but they are nothing compared to what I would face without you by my side.”

His other hand, steady and sure, moved from your hair to your back. His fingers began to trace slow, soothing patterns along the curve of your spine, the touch both comforting and grounding. The pressure was gentle yet firm, a slow caress that seemed to wash over you, each stroke moving in perfect rhythm with the rise and fall of your breath. His hand continued its careful path, tracing the length of your back in deliberate, soothing patterns. Each movement was like a lullaby, soft and rhythmic, pulling you deeper into his embrace. His touch was steady, like an anchor that kept you firmly rooted to the present, to the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

“I know you worry,” he continued, his voice low and soothing as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head once more. His lips lingered for just a moment, as if savoring the feeling of you in his arms, the peace that only you could bring him. “But I need you to understand—you are my heart. I would never risk losing you. My place is here, with you, always.”

His words wrapped around you like a tender embrace, and you could feel your heart settling in response, the weight of the night’s fears lifting. The rhythm of his hand on your back, combined with the soft kisses on your forehead, created a cocoon of warmth and comfort around you, a quiet space where nothing could reach you, where nothing else mattered. Every subtle gesture, every shift of his body, was a reminder of the deep, unwavering love he had for you. With each stroke of his hand, each soft breath he took, you felt safe, cherished, and completely at peace.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to relax fully into his touch, trusting him, trusting the bond between you. The anxiety that had once clung to you began to melt away, replaced by the soothing warmth of his love. His presence—so steady, so constant—was everything you needed to calm the storm within you. His fingers, moving with that steady, rhythmic pattern along your back, seemed to chase away every lingering trace of worry, every shadow of doubt. His kisses, gentle and frequent, felt like a promise, a reminder that he would always be there, no matter the challenges or dangers of the world beyond.

“I am here, my love,” he whispered again, his voice barely more than a breath, as though he were speaking only to you. “For you, always.” And for now, in this quiet moment, that was enough. Everything else faded away, and all that remained was the warmth of his touch, the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear, and the quiet certainty that you were home. Wrapped in his arms, in the safety of his love, there was nothing to fear. And for the moment, that was all that mattered.

[vimse]

Ah wow it’s almost 2025, which means it’s time for the yearly art recap. Time flies when you’re struggling through your thesis, but I’m very pleased to scrounge up at least one Tech drawing per month. I’ll do a (not so) short reflection about my 2024 art under the cut if you’re interested, but for now, I’d like to express my greatest gratitude for everybody who has stuck around and shared my art. Hoping that 2025 will be a more productive art year. Byeee 🧡

Tl;dr under the cut: ramblings about my struggle in school, 2024 highlights, hopes and dreams next year

—

Let’s look back at last year’s summary:

What's next in 2024?

More Tech. Some things I'd like to explore in 2024 is character drawings beyond portraits, anatomy, simple backgrounds, OCs, storytelling through short comics, TBB band au, and maybe some commission work

Well, safe to say I didn’t get too much of that done haha. The reason for that is I’ve been really struggling with my undergraduate thesis work in chemistry. I don’t really know the root cause of it, but I just can’t bring myself to finish it and I’ve been procrastinating badly, so much that I’ve missed two presentation opportunities. The third opportunity is within 2 weeks and I’m nowhere finished or ready. It has been a constant source of stress and anxiety throughout 2024. I got burned out by the end of May and went to the school counsel to hand in my resignation notice, but got convinced to stick around but to finish it at a later date, because this is literally the last thing to do before I get my degree. Then afterwards I decided to go back to my old job full time, which has been very tiring and took a long time to adjust to. This is very obviously reflected in the amount of full illustration produced during July to October, especially September when I couldn’t bring myself to draw anything beyond Tech’s hand lol.

If I don’t finish my thesis in time for this round, I think I’ll finally throw in the towel for real. Maybe I’ve doomed my future or something but…this experience has made me feel incredibly (and constantly) bad for a whole year, and it has affected every aspect of my life. I’m very tired of it. And although my current job is very tiresome and probably detrimental to my health, it pays well and the colleagues are wonderful. Additionally, it is a niche job that I have years of experience in, with good connections, so I’m not currently worrying about my future job at all. And it’s still within the chemistry industry, so all the time I spent in school isn’t going to waste. In regard to my future, I’m more worried about wasting all of it on a conventional 7-16 job, of which I don’t think a degree in analytical chemistry would help me avoid anyways.

Okay, I’ve rambled enough. If you’re still here, thank you. Now, let’s look back to some positive highlights in my art year of 2024:

I think I’ve finally reached the point where I’m content with how I draw Tech. As evident by the picture above, it’s sort of consistent too, which is a bonus.

I joined my first zine!! It’s the Pabu Days zine and I can’t wait for everyone to get their copy of it. Everybody’s pieces are amazing. I wish I did better/more, but the creation period was during the worst time of my year, mental health-wise, and I have to accept that it was the best I could do at the time.

As for the “masterpiece” of 2024, my most proudest work is the CX-Tech piece I did during the height of TBB season 3. I’m incredibly happy with how the rim lights turned out and the overall mood of it. Also the texture on the armour turned out sooo good, I can’t believe I was the one who painted it lol. I wish I could personally show the picture from my monitor, because all the details seem to disappear when viewed on tumblr. Below is the illustration I’m talking about, along with a side by side comparison to the picture I referenced the lighting from + some closeups. Looking back at it now, I wish I added a stronger frontal light source, so that the picture isn’t so dark.

Also, extra shout out to the back study series. I am traditionally not a painter (just grew up as an anime weeb) so making these this was an incredible accomplishment.

With that, I’m wrapping this very long post (sorry) with some 2025 hopes and dreams. Basically it’s the same things I wanted to do in 2024: improve anatomy, more background, work on OC, work on AUs. I want to try very hard to make commissions happen next year, if people are still interested. Something else I want to do that isn’t strictly art related is to connect more with people, especially with those who are still hyperfixated on TBB as I am. I find it hard to socialise on tumblr, but I try to be more social on bluesky. Idk, I think it would be fun to find a small active community that is maybe more focused on clones and oc stuff.

Okay, that’s all! If you’ve made it this far, thank you thank you thank you. Have a happy holiday and may your 2025 be a wonderful, wonderful year.

🧡 vimse