#slowly my lines get thinner and thinner...

[warmfuzzyanimal]

wish i had a consistent character to show for this, but since i don't i just used icons :0]

blank template for those that want it under the cut

[oreo-creampies]

“𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 (𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲!)”

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭! Sukuna fucks you, queen of the fae, into a messy cum covered whore

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! queen of the fae!reader, demon king!sukuna (true-form), size kink, hentai logic lets say his monster sized cock fits in your fairy cunt, pussy drunk, overstimulation/hints of mindbreak, cock-drunk, monster sized cocks one has a knot the other is softly ribbed, HUGE HUGE HUGE SIZE KINK, sensitive wings, squirting, degradation/some praise, sukuna is 10ft tall in this one, your pussy is like a pocket of holding and it can take that shit, lets say you have tits even if you don’t for this one, titty fucking, double pentration (cunt and anal), pain kink, restraining/rough manhandling, fucking you in front of a mirror then on the bed, reader has magical abilities, sukun eats your ass a little with one of his hand’s mouth, sukuna is mean but gentle with your wings, pussy slapping, some anal fingering (he doesn't touch you with the hand after), belly bulge from both his cock and cum, squirting his cum when he pushes on your stomach, he covers you in his cum too, fingering

Fey; i get it if you judge me for this one, but in my defense my coochie held me at gun point to write this one. I'm giving you one more warning to use hentai logic with this one!!!

Sukuna strokes the base of your iridescent wings making them stretch out and flutter. Trembling, arching your back, digging your nails into the arm of the hand clenching your waist. Getting off on how Sukuna can hold you up, to use like a cocksleeve, with one massive hand.

“I look so big taking your stupid lil bratty ass from behind, look at yourself, you’re built like a handheld toy for me to use whenever I want.” Sukuna that’s massive, from his height to his hands, to the cocks stretching out both of your sloppy wet holes.

He croons, “You’re hot crying with your tiny wings fluttering n’ your stomach bulging.” Slowly stretching your wings out then pulling you upright by a firm grasp on your throat. Your wings occasionally brush Sukuna’s warm chest.

Your sloppy wet cunt is gushing on his cock, thick warm cum squirts and trickles onto the floor. Both of your wet holes quiver, clenching his thick cocks.

Sukuna moans, “Stupid slutty lil princess make a mess on my cocks, cumming so damn much you’ve made a puddle on the floor.

His four eyes fixating on how his thick knot tugs on your cunt. “Nnnn look at that you’re clenching me too tightly for me to pull out?” You squirm and cry when he sucks on your clit with a hand’s mouth.

Insisting, “Princess? I'm a queen?!” He licks your cock-stuffed cunt with a hand’s tongue. When he moves his hand away you’re fixating on how your cunt is split into a perfect circle by his thick knot.

Sharply crying when Sukuna pinches your sensitive clit. “Yet you’re taking my cocks like a common whore.” He roughly pulls his knot and cocks out eliciting a needy whine from you when you’re empty.

Dropping you on the massive nearby bed which floats with with a wave of your hand. “It doesn't make me any less a queen.” Spreading your legs for him, “It just means I'm a queen whose a monster cock loving slut.”

Sukuna pins your thighs by your side, lining his bottom cock up and nudging your asshole with his cockhead. Unlike his other cock’s blunt head it has a thinner cone-shaped like tip, which gets thicker after each soft ridge.

He rests his other cock on top of you, covering your cunt and resting between your tits. “And to think you were just takin’ me in your soft lil‘ cunt, I knew fae magic was something else but this is isn't what I expected.” His cock is so big, yet he feels no deeper than your belly button when inside.

Pressing your breasts together, squeezing his fat cock. He grabs your hair yanking your head up, making you look at his cock peeking out from between your tits.

Sukuna groans when you lick his cockhead. “I wonder how much you can take before your magic runs out and you break.” Slowly rolling his hips fucking your soft ass, his cock on top stroking your sensitive clit.

Pleading with Sukuna, “Break me, fuck! Nnn it won't be too long before I'm ready for more! Please! I can't get enough they’re so big, I can't get enough! Please fuck me with both cocks please! Please! Please!” He covers your mouth sticking his fat tongue into your mouth, you can faintly taste yourself.

“What? You’re looking up at me like you want to kiss some different lips.” He smirks gliding himself out of your ass and takes his other cock off your body to let them both hang

He leans down, “Hah you’re too small to properly kiss me.” You lean forward covering his larger lips in kisses, sliding your fingers into his hair.

“I can cover you in kisses.” Sukuna’s lips covers your cheek when he kisses you. Standing up he’s a ten foot monstrous demon and you love it. You love how small you feel beneath him, restrained in a mating press for him to mercilessly fuck both sensitive, sloppy wet holes.

He roughly smacks your cunt, licking your asshole with his thick tongue. The sharp pain rips wonderfully through the pleasure of having your ass ate. Loudly pleading, “Fuck me please, please fuck me. I wanna cum again!”

“Greedy lil brat is a better title for you, after you squirted and made a mess all over my floor you’re begging to cum again.” Another harsh slap to your cunt has you crying.

Pleading with Sukuna, “Im a greedy slut for your thick cocks! I can't help it! It feels like I'm about to go into heat. Please use whatever hole you want my King it gets me off how you use me for your pleasure.” Grabbing the bottle of lube left on the bed, taking his tongue out of your ass.

He pours a lot onto your tight hole then stuffs it in with two thick fingers. Some of the lube drips onto the sheets, “Good girl.” Pumping his fingers faster, smearing the lube. “Call me me your King again.”

He lines himself up, “Please fuck me My King.” He roughly stuffing both holes in a swift thrust. Your body tenses up with a sudden jolt, he’s too big. And being unable run away from the overwhelming intensity magnifies it.

Sukuna demands, “This is my sloppy lil’ cunt to cum in till I get bored of you. Say it!” Putting his weight into your thrust watching your stomach expand when his cock nestles in deep.

“Nnnn!” You can’t focus his words his cock stretching out both holes making the strip of skin between go taunt. You’re a fuck toy for him and it feels so good.

He’s so perfect from cocky smirk, to the condescending way he is looking down at you, and his thick cocks stirring you up pushing you towards cumming again.

He sneers, “Are you already too cock drunk?” Trailing his fingers gently along the top of one of your expanded wings. “Be a good girl and tell me who owns you brat.” Licking your clit with his stomach’s tongue, the pleasure is building rapidly.

Even after squirting on his cock he’s getting you this worked up so fast. It's hard not to with the intense stimulation from Sukuna licking your clit whilst mercilessly fucking you sloppy holes into a loose with his monster cocks.

You whine, “You do my King! ‘S your cunt! Nnn I wanna covered in your cum.” Picking up his pace, even with your magic the bed is rocking. “Fuck you’re so big! Nnnn please please! I'm your good girl.” Grabbing his thick, tattooed forearms, digging your nails in.

“Good girls get cummed in don’t they?” He fondled your breasts, biting and sucking on your nipple. The way he’s toying with your body is wonderful.

You beg him, “We shouldn't, we aren't married, but I want you to! Nnnn! Fuck! You’d cum so much, I would be so full!” Softly clutching the sheets when he flicks your tongue faster, adding a little more pressure. “I wanna feel your warm cum.”

A couple more strokes and your reasoning is quickly crumbling as you cum. All you can think about are his cocks throbbing inside you, filling both holes up. It’s too tempting you're begging with Sukuna, “Please cum! Please cum! Wanna feel your warm thick cum!”

He wonders, “How long did you spend making a spell that can let you take cocks bigger than you should. Or did it come naturally to a slut like you?”

You’re unable to process his question instead you’re loudly moaning, “Please cum! Please! Please! My king! Daddy! Sir! Please! Suukunnna.” Sukuna squeezes your throat and lifts you off the bed. Using his grasp on your throat and his to make you meet his merciless thrusts.

It’s hot to hear Sukuna sound so needy as he whines, “Nn!!! Nn! ‘S tight, wet! Fuck!” He grabs your hair yanking your head back so he can watch you cry while he fucksyou. Keeping eye contact with two eyes while the other two fixate on how your stomach bulges.

Softly growling and grunting “Mine! All fuckin! Nnnnn! Stupid pretty lil’ brat.” His jaw drops with needy loud whines as he loses himself in the intoxicating pleasure of your wet holes clenching his cocks.

There is a crash as the bed hits the floor. Sukuna turns around and lies down on an uneven half-broken bed. He digs his heels into the bed and roughly rutting his hips. “Fuck so damn hot! So fucking small, I wanna make you cry and ruin your tight cunt.”

You lean forward resting your hands on his abs above his stomach’s mouth. “Please cum! Sukuna please!” He softly growls then fucks you harder making it hard for you to string a word together in between your cries.

His brows pinch together and his jaw drops with a loud groan. “C-cum on mmmmm!” It’s impossible to think with the way your soft, soaking-wet holes are gripping and rubbing his cock. Your tears rolling down your beautiful face spurring him on getting him so close to cumming inside you.

“Cry! Louder! Fuck me!” Your cunt spasms as you cum on Sukuna’s thick cock. Sukuna’s eyes roll back, shoulders curl in and he tosses his head back. Whining loudly, “Nnn too-too too tight! Too much! Please!” Thick hot cum spurts in your stomach making it swell.

When he lets your throat go you use your first steady breath to whine “Please?” Sukuna's cheeks flushes a dark shade of pink matching his hair. He stuffs a finger in your mouth and fondles your soft breast, sucking on your nipple.

His cock pulses as more thick cum keeps trickling out. Your aching holes spasm around his cock. It’s wonderful to be so full of Sukuna’s cum and cocks.

He rolls over, towering over you with two massive cocks stuffed in each hole. “Don’t think this means we are done. Im going to clean up then see if your lil’ bratty cunt can take both of my cocks.” Slowly gliding his cocks out, Sukuna pushes on your building stomach making his cum squirts onto his hand and the bed.

Sukuna smears his thick cum over your thighs, tits, and waist. Gliding his finger inside you costing himself in cum which he stuffs into your mouth. “How do we taste?” You groan whilst sucking his thick finger as he holds his dirty hand to your asshole, licking your cum filled asshole.

He pulls his finger out with a wet pop. “Bitter, but I love being filled with and feeling your cum gushing out of me!” Lifting you off the bed by your hair Sukuna dangles you in front of the mirror.

“You look hotter covered and dripping with my cum.” He glides a thick finger into your cunt, pushing more thick cum out of you faster with slow pumps.

Letting your hair go causing you to flutter your wings to afloat. “How long can you keep hovering with those little wings while I'm fingering you?”

Oreo’s m.list

[itoshiierae]

helloooo!!! i would like to request for quaterback!oliver aiku & nerd!reader doing it in the locker room 5 mins before his practice 🥵🥵😭

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

ᡣ𐭩 ft: quarterback!oliver aiku x nerd!reader

ᡣ𐭩 notes: i mean realistically, 5 mins before practice there should be teammates around… but smut logic > realistic sports schedules after all right???? 🤭

ᡣ𐭩 cw: minors dni, semi-public sex (locker room setting, risk of being caught), f!reader, unprotected sex, cursing, cheating (reader is technically the other woman), possessive dirty talk, rough handling, toxic dynamic, light degradation

you told yourself you wouldn’t answer again. but then his name flashes across your screen, and suddenly your resolve feels thinner than your excuses. somehow, he always knows how to pull you back in.

aiku: locker room. 4:55. don’t be late.

as usual, straight to the point. no “hi” or “how’ve you been.” just oliver aiku with that same cocky confidence, expecting you to show up and you hate how you always do.

──★

you sneak in through the back route the one behind the old gym storage, where the sensor lights don’t work and the door never fully locks. he’s the one who showed you the way. told you no one would notice if you timed it right.

your fingers brush against the edge of the locker room door.

and when you finally push it open, he’s already there leaning against one of the lockers like he owns the place. towel slung low on his hips, pads discarded lazily to the side, hair damp from the pre-practice rinse he took just to cool off.

he doesn’t even flinch when you arrive — just tilts his head, with that same infuriating smirk and lidded gaze.

“knew you’d come,” he chuckles, eyes dragging over you slowly.

“you always do when i call, huh??”

you roll your eyes, feigning indifference. but it’s a weak attempt and he knows it. your body moves before your brain catches up. you walk towards him hesitant, but unable to stop yourself. then in two strides, he’s already in front of you and your back immediately hits the locker with a muted thud. now suddenly, pretending like you don’t want him doesn’t feel so easy anymore.

and before you know it, his mouth crashes into yours like he’s been holding back all day. you gasp into his mouth, already off-balance from how rough he’s kissing you. and then his hand finds its way under your skirt, “five minutes,” he murmurs, fingers curling around your panties. “i’ll make it count.”

your panties barely hit the floor before he’s already lining himself up; no hesitation or trace of gentleness in the way his body moves. he immediately drives into you without warning, one hand steadying your hips, the other muffling your cry before it even forms.

your eyes go wide, jaw slack, as he buries himself in one clean motion. your body jerks, hips tilting — and his respond just as fast, snapping forward with practiced force.

“quiet,” he whispers, lips brushing against your ear.

“can’t let them hear how good i fuck my favorite little nerd dumb, huh???”

“y-you’re too rough— i can’t— it’s too much—”, your words blur into moans, barely intelligible as his grip tightens.

your knees falter beneath you, spine arching as your mind empties. not a single thought remains, only the way he’s hitting all the right spots and the obscene rhythm that leaves your body clinging to his.

“damn…” he mutters, almost to himself. “you’re doing so fucking good for me, you know that??”

his pace doesn’t slow. if anything, it gets rougher— like your whimper was permission. he grips your hips tighter, his pace turning desperate as if he’s trying to bury everything he’s not ready to say inside you.

“fuck—this how you act when you miss me, huh?” he laughs breathlessly, teeth grazing your neck.

“being so good… so goddamn good i might actually lose my mind…”

you gasp. your body’s trembling now. but he’s not done. he grips your face and makes you look at him.

“don’t look away,” he growls, hips still snapping forward.

“wanna see that pretty face while you fall apart on my cock.”

right when your body begins to unravel, your grip tightening around his back like you’re holding on for dear life — a sharp whistle cuts through the air from the field outside, dragging you back to reality like a slap to the face. he doesn’t pull out right away. just leans down instead, mouth brushing your skin like it’s a habit.

“time’s up, sweetheart,” he says, breath warm on your shoulder. “the team’s waiting… and so’s my girl.”

you blink at him, stunned. “…you said she wasn’t serious.”

“she isn’t,” he says without missing a beat. then he leans in — gaze steady until he’s close enough for you to feel the weight of it.

“but i think about you before every touchdown…. every damn time.”

a soft whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it. embarrassment prickles under your skin, but beneath it… there’s that ache again. the one you never know how to silence. he cups your jaw, thumb tracing the edge of it before tilting your head up as his gaze locked onto yours like he’s daring you to deny him.

“you’ll stay quiet, yeah?” he whispers. and then he finishes inside you, a final thrust stealing the breath from your lungs and what little sense you had left.

his eyes drop for a second to the mess between your thighs and the smirk that curls on his lips is nothing short of wicked. then, he quickly slips on his practice gear from the nearby bench like he didn’t just ruin you in five reckless minutes.

“next week, same time,” he grins. “and leave a little mess behind, yeah?? i like when the boys ask why my gloves smell like heaven.”

you hear it the second the door clicks shut behind him — whistles blowing, teammates shouting, the field coming alive. his world resumes like nothing happened. and you’re still tucked away in the corner of the locker room, throbbing between your legs, breath caught somewhere in your throat. but the worst part? your body’s still begging for him and deep down, you know you’d let him ruin you all over again.

© itoshiierae 2025 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ please do not modify or repost my content onto any other platforms.

[hopeyoufindalovelikethis]

Exactly as It Should Be

Hello! I’ll never get tired of saying thank you to all of you who’ve shared your love for my writing. Today’s post traces the slow bloom of a relationship — not in a rush, but through the personal moments that truly matter. I hope it resonates with you.

Synopsis | They started as strangers—two people whose lives barely brushed at first. But step by step, moment by moment, something quiet and meaningful began to grow between them. What began with uneasiness and distance slowly turned into shared glances, heartfelt conversations, and an unspoken comfort in each other’s presence. Now, after everything, they’re no longer just two people crossing paths—they’re finally together, as it should be.

The first time you saw Sylus, it wasn't under soft skies or easy circumstances, but in the middle of chaos — a failed mission. It was the slow click of his boots against the pavement, the way the shadows seemed to bend away from him, the glint of crimson eyes like dying stars cutting through the dark. The man who had kidnapped you didn't even get the chance to beg. He was gone before you could blink, swallowed by his Evol with a kind of brutal, silent efficiency that made your skin crawl.

And then he turned those red eyes on you — expression cold, jaw set, power radiating from every inch of his body like a warning no sane creature would ignore. You flinched when he reached for you. He didn’t smile. Didn’t offer reassurances.

He only cut the binds from your wrists with a small, brutal flick of his blade and said, voice low and edged like a knife, "You owe me."

That was the beginning. Not with flowers. Not with softness. But with a debt. A promise you didn’t understand yet.

•••

You thought you would never see him again, just a nightmare to forget. But instead, Sylus appeared in your life again — and again — always in the edges of your world, silent, sharp, inevitable. You didn’t know whether it was a fate or a curse.

At first, you hated every second. He was cruel and demanding — his words cut deeper than his blades ever could. But somewhere along the way, the cruelty softened — not into kindness, exactly — but into something drier, lighter. His sharp criticisms slowly turned into sarcastic comments. His hard commands morphed into teasing observations. The tension between you stretched thinner, not with anger, but with something neither of you had the language to name yet.

Slowly, you realized something. His teasing wasn't mockery — it was care. It was his way of unwinding the tight knots in your chest. His way of lifting the weight from your shoulders without ever admitting he was doing it.

•••

Once, he called when the day had just begun a few hours ago — yet, it was after a long night of missed calls and unread messages for him, his voice gruff through the receiver.

"I’m just calling..." he muttered, almost like he hated the sound of the words. "... before I crash."

You blinked, sitting upright on your working chair, still blinking because you didn’t believe what you just heard.

"I thought you sleep during the day?"

He grunted, "Usually. Not yet at the moment."

You heard the subtle exhaustion in his tone — but also the strange comfort, the way he seemed to settle once he heard your voice. And somehow, without needing to ask, Sylus picked up on the heaviness lingering between your silences.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, low and sharp, like he'd caught the scent of blood.

You hesitated — but it was Sylus. He never asked unless he wanted the truth.

"I’m chasing a deadline," you said finally, voice tight. "But I don’t think I’m going to make it."

There was a rustle on the other end of the line — the sound of leather, the faint clink of metal.

"Where are you now?" he asked. "I'm coming over."

You blinked.

"What?"

Before you could protest, he was already moving — already halfway to you — and within the hour, Sylus was at your apartment door, carrying bags filled with your favorite snacks he’d learned about during all the times you visited and hung out at his base.

He didn’t lecture you — nor did he hover. He simply sat across from you as you worked, silent and steady, his presence a shield against the creeping weight of failure.

When you finished — hours later, your head pounding, eyes burning — he patiently tugged you to your feet and guided you to bed.

"Sleep," he said, tucking the blanket up around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And when you woke up, he was gone — but a handwritten note rested on your pillow:

Proud of you, Kitten.

•••

The other time, he called you in the middle of the night. You weren’t working, but you were breaking. Thinking too much, feeling too heavy, drowning under the weight of a life you weren’t sure you wanted anymore. And somehow — impossibly — he sensed it again.

"What’s wrong?" he said, voice rough.

You hesitated — then broke, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

"I’m tired," you whispered. "I want to let everything go, but I can’t. I can’t even figure out what I’m holding onto anymore."

There was no judgment from Sylus. No empty comfort. Just quiet breath on the other end of the line.

"Then let them go," he said finally. "Or keep them close. Whichever feels right to you."

Your heart twisted. "It’s not that simple—"

"It is," Sylus said, voice steady as a hand at your back. "The rest, I’ll handle. You just decide what you want, Kitten. That’s all you have to do."

You closed your eyes. If anyone else had said it, you would have laughed or screamed. But Sylus never said anything he didn’t mean. And something inside you shifted.

•••

You didn’t know when the friendship changed. Maybe it was in the way your heart clenched every time he leaned too close. Maybe it was in the way you started to save all your stories just to tell him later. Maybe it was in the way you started to crave the sound of your name in his voice more than any other music in the world.

You loved him. And it ached.

Because you thought he only found you amusing — a kitten baring her claws at a wolf who could destroy entire worlds. He called you that, after all. Kitten. Always with a lazy smile when you tried to argue with him. Always when you threatened him with tiny fists, he caught effortlessly in his larger hands.

You were his kitten. And he was your impossible.

•••

Until one night, after a successful hunt with him, Sylus pulled you aside.

“Safehouse,” he said, nodding toward one of his hideouts tucked away in the deserted farmland. “You need to rest.”

You didn’t argue.

From the outside, the cottage looked like it had long been forgotten — its roof weathered, vines creeping along the cracked stone, and the surrounding farmland left to wild silence. But inside, it told a different story. The space was simple but surprisingly warm — dark walls softened by the glow of dim lights, and a heavy couch that practically swallowed you whole. Sylus pulled a worn deck of cards from a drawer and tossed it onto the coffee table, a rare spark of mischief in his eyes.

"Truth or Dare," he said, his voice lighter than usual. "Old-fashioned rules."

You rolled your eyes but played along, and it was fun — until it wasn’t. The question landed in front of you: Who do you love at the moment?

Your heart stopped. You fumbled, reaching for another card.

"Dare," you blurted. "I pick Dare."

But Sylus was faster. He plucked the card from your fingers and leaned back lazily, holding it up.

"No switching, Kitten," he said, voice low. "Answer."

You swallowed hard, cheeks burning, the words catching in your throat.

"I—" you started, trying to joke, trying to twist it.

"If you want my answer first," Sylus said quietly, cutting through your panic, "I'll give it."

You froze. He set the card down carefully between you. Then looked you straight in the eyes.

"You," he said simply. "It’s you."

The world tilted. You stared at him — stunned, frozen, your heart hammering so loudly you were sure he could hear it. The ache in your chest cracked wide open. Sylus only tilted his head slightly, watching you, those crimson eyes unreadable in the low light.

And then, after a beat, he murmured — his voice quieter now, softer at the edges, “It’s okay. You don’t have to answer.”

He started to push himself up from the couch, moving slowly, giving you space. And the motion jolted something inside you — panic, longing, something too big to hold.

“Wait,” you blurted, sharper than you meant.

Sylus stilled immediately, his attention sliding back to you without a flicker of impatience. You gripped the edge of the couch, your voice barely above a whisper as you forced the words out.

“How can you say something like that so easily?” you asked. “Are you… are you joking?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Then he sank back down into his seat, his posture relaxed, his gaze steady.

“If I were joking,” he said, his voice low and certain, “I would’ve laughed.”

You swallowed, your heart beating against your ribs painfully. Sylus leaned his forearms onto his knees, the shadows slipping across his face, making his expression unreadable but somehow even more real.

"I’m a beast, Kitten," he murmured, eyes unwavering. "I don’t pretend. When I want something, I take it. When I don’t, I walk away. I don’t waste time dressing up instincts as something delicate."

He said it like it was the simplest truth in the world — like breathing. You didn’t know what to say, so you just stared at him. Sylus shifted, glancing over his shoulder, as if sensing the weight in the air and wanting to ease the tension, to give you a private moment. He was already moving, as if about to stand — when the lump in your chest cracked open, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“You.”

He stopped mid-motion, his body stilling like a statue carved in shadow and light. Slowly, Sylus turned his head to look at you — face unreadable, impassive. And for a terrifying moment, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But you couldn’t stop yourself now.

“For me…” you said, voice trembling, “it’s you too.”

You dropped your gaze immediately to the floor, your cheeks burning, shame and fear knotting inside you. The silence stretched — each second sharpened the fear in your ribs. Your fingers curled tightly into the fabric of your jeans.

Maybe he was joking? Maybe he’d meant nothing? Maybe you had just thrown your heart into empty hands?

And then, his voice, low and rough and impossibly gentle, “Kitten.”

You lifted your head, eyes still blinking — and there he was, smiling at you. It wasn’t the usual smirk, not the sharp curve he used when teasing you. No — this smile was different. It was warm, real, and beautiful. The kind of smile that cracked through every mask he wore. The kind that spoke volumes without a single word: I’m yours.

You stared at him, breath catching in your throat, the world narrowing down to nothing but him and you and the soft glow between you. And in that moment — without question, without fear — you knew that you truly loved this man.

For a long moment, Sylus didn’t move. He just stayed there, watching you. His smile softening even more, the kind of softness that could break a thousand walls at once.

And then, finally, he stood. Not with the sharp, efficient motion he used when preparing for a fight, but slower and deliberate, like every step toward you mattered. He crossed the small space between you without a word. His hand reached out, palm up — not grabbing, not demanding, just offering.

You looked at it, your heart aching so hard it felt like it might tear itself apart. Slowly, almost trembling, you placed your hand in his. His fingers closed around yours — steady, strong, careful — then he was pulling you up from the couch, up into him.

You stumbled forward, your hands pressing instinctively against his chest. The scent of him — clean, sharp, faintly metallic like the night — wrapped around you immediately. Sylus shifted his arms — one sliding around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head. Gathering you against him with a tenderness you hadn’t known he was capable of.

He didn’t speak. He just held you. Tight enough that you felt the steady thrum of his heart through his chest. Tight enough that you knew — with absolute certainty — that he would never let you go.

“Kitten,” he murmured. “You aren't alone anymore.”

You clutched him tighter, your chest full of something too big to name. Because somewhere — between being saved and being loved, between fighting and falling — you had found something you thought didn’t exist. You had found a place where you could finally belong. And it was in his arms.

Sylus didn’t move to let go. If anything, he held you closer — his fingers brushing slow, almost absent patterns along your spine. Like he was memorizing you, anchoring himself to this moment. It was only after a while when the silence had stretched so long it felt sacred, that you heard his voice again. Low and rough around the edges — almost tender.

“I was waiting,” he murmured against your hair.

You shifted slightly, looking up at him, confusion flickering in your eyes. He smiled — that rare devastating smile that he reserved only for you — and his hand cupped the side of your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone lightly.

“I was waiting for you to see me,” Sylus said quietly. “The way I’ve always seen you.”

Your breath caught. You meant to ask when it started, how long it had been — but the words faded into the warmth blooming in your chest. Because you already knew. It wasn’t one moment. It was always there — in his quiet glances, in the way he protected your heart, in how he made you feel seen in a world that tried to make you small.

You buried your face in his chest again, your arms tightening around him. And Sylus, silent as always, just pressed his lips into your hair, holding you against him like he had found something he had spent his whole life looking for.

•••

You sit back on the sofa, resting your head on his shoulder.

You didn’t remember when your breathing slowed or when your body, exhausted from all the walls you had finally let fall, grew heavier against him. All you knew was that Sylus stayed — solid and steady. His hands moved in slow, soothing motions against your back, his breath steady against your hair.

Somewhere in the deep quiet, your eyelids fluttered closed. Sleep pulled at you softly, and for once, you didn’t fight it. You drifted. Wrapped in his warmth, your fingers still tangled in the fabric of his shirt, your heart steady against his.

Sylus didn’t move for a long time. He stayed perfectly still — like he was afraid that even a breath too loud might break whatever delicate, beautiful thing had finally blossomed between you. It was only when he felt your breathing even out, the last shivers of tension leaving your body, that he stirred.

Slowly, carefully, he shifted just enough to grab a soft throw blanket from the side of the couch, pulling it up and over your smaller form with a care that felt almost reverent. He tucked it around you — sealing you against him, as if even the cold night air was something he wouldn’t allow to touch you now.

For a moment he just looked down at you. At your face, peaceful now, your hand still clutching lightly at his shirt as if even in sleep, you refused to let him go. His free hand found your hair, brushing a loose strand from your cheek.

And in a voice so low it was almost a breath, he whispered against your forehead, “Finally.”

Then he leaned back, his arms still wrapped around you, and closed his eyes. Letting sleep pull him under too. With the rare and certain peace that came from knowing that for the first time in all the bloody, brutal years of his life, he wasn’t alone anymore.

You were here. You were his. And he — finally — was yours.

[ceyanabbiolo]

CONTRACT // C.S [21]

Summary: Christopher Sturniolo, a 26-year-old billionaire CEO, agrees to a strategic marriage with Aurora Devereaux, the 21-year-old daughter of his rival, to save his company during a crisis. Raised in a cold, arrogant environment, Chris is used to control and detachment. Aurora, a final-year fashion student, is forced into the arrangement by her powerful father and struggles with the fear of losing herself. As the two navigate their unexpected marriage, they begin to confront emotional walls and develop a connection that challenges everything they thought they knew about love and trust. But with their families’ influence looming, will their bond be strong enough to survive—or will it fall apart?

Warnings: angst, crying, longing, kissing.

wc: 5769

Chapter 21: The Look Of Love

By the end of April, I was alright. Not great, not whole—but alright. I was moving through the days with a quiet steadiness, finally breathing without everything hurting.

I had my routines, my shopping days, my little walks through the city with earbuds in and my bag slung over my shoulder. I was letting time do what it does best—soften the sharp edges of everything.

Then came the trial.

Going to my father’s hearing was something I had tried to mentally prepare for, but nothing quite readied me for seeing him again. He looked thinner. His suit hung loosely on him, and his hair was grayer than I remembered. What unsettled me most wasn’t his appearance—it was how unaffected he looked. His face was stiff, cold, the same expressionless mask he’d worn my whole life. 

There was no remorse in his eyes. No guilt. Just silence, like he was still clinging to the control he’d always demanded.

Chris was there, too. I saw him the moment I walked in, standing off to the side in a dark coat, hands in his pockets, jaw tight. But I didn’t acknowledge him. I stayed close to my mom and Jen the whole time. We sat in the second row, and when the sentence was read out—essentially life—I felt nothing. Not joy. Not relief. Just a hollow finality. Like turning the last page of a book I never wanted to read in the first place.

Even then, Chris kept looking at me.

But I didn’t look back. 

The first week of May, Darren and I went on our first real date. He took me to a retro arcade just outside the city—walls lined with flashing machines, the sound of buttons being mashed and 80s music playing in the background. It was relaxed, easy.

But even as I laughed and nudged him during a game of basketball shootout, there was a quiet truth settling in my chest—he felt more like a friend. The kind you could spend hours with and still not feel that ache in your ribs. There was no spark, not the kind that made your hands shake or your heart race.

Still, I let myself enjoy the night. Maybe friendship was enough. Maybe that’s all I could handle right now.

The more time I spent with Darren, the more I realized how different we really were. At first, I thought it was just surface-level—maybe different upbringings, different worlds. But it wasn’t that. Not really.

It was deeper than that. He saw things in a way I couldn’t quite align with. In small moments—in how he spoke about people, how he dismissed certain things I cared about, how quick he was to justify things that didn’t sit right with me—I started to notice cracks.

He didn’t necessarily mean harm, but there were times he just… lacked the same sense of accountability or empathy I held close. We weren’t raised differently—we just believed in different things. At our core, we just didn’t match.

By the end of May, the weather was getting hotter, marking the quiet shift from spring to summer. 

Everything was slowly falling back into place.

I was preparing for my fellowship, which I’d be leaving for in August—two months earlier than necessary. I wanted time to adjust to Paris before the program began. Besides, I didn’t have a reason to stay in Boston anymore. It felt like the right time to start living for myself.

My mother’s divorce was finally getting finalized next week. After everything he put her through, she was free. We both were. My father… well, he wasn’t just gone—he was gone for good. Sentenced to what was essentially life in prison. A certain ex-fiancée of mine made sure of it. It still felt surreal sometimes. Like I’d wake up and none of it had happened. Like I’d still hear his voice echoing in our house, calling for me like I was still some pawn in his perfect little empire. 

But he wasn’t coming back. Not this time.

Tonight, I was tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, sharing dinner with Darren. We’d gone on a few casual dates here and there, but this was our first real dinner—something that felt slightly more intentional.

It wasn’t anything serious. Not yet, at least. I was still a little slow to reply to his messages, often distracted or just too tired to make conversation. Luckily, Darren was swamped with work most of the time, so the pace didn’t seem to bother him. It worked for now—low effort, low expectations.

“So… you’re really leaving. In August,” Darren said as we lingered over the last bites of dinner, his voice quieter now.

I nodded, setting down my fork. “Yeah. I’m excited.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s amazing, Aurora. Really. Paris is—well, it’s Paris.” He laughed softly. “I’m happy for you.”

I tilted my head. “You don’t sound that happy.”

He leaned back slightly, eyes flicking toward the window before settling back on me. “It’s not that I’m not happy for you. I am. I just…I was hoping you’d stay a little longer.”

A pause hung between us. I took a sip of my drink, my heart ticking a little faster.

“Why?” I asked, even though part of me already knew.

Darren’s gaze softened. “Because I was going to ask if you wanted to be my girlfriend.”

I blinked. The words sat in the space between us, simple and sincere.

He shrugged, trying to play it off. “I know the timing isn't great. And I know things have been casual. But I like you, Aurora. And I thought maybe we could see where this goes.”

I looked at him—really looked at him. 

But all I could feel was the weight of everything unsaid inside me. 

I stayed quiet, unsure how to answer him without leading him on—or hurting him. The pause stretched a little too long, thickening the air between us.

Darren looked at me, still hopeful, but his smile had faded slightly. 

“Aurora?” he asked again, softer this time. “Would you want to be my girlfriend?”

I looked away for a second, toward the small street outside the café where people walked past with gelato and shopping bags, where the world felt a little less complicated.

“I don’t know,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He exhaled—slowly. Not dramatic or annoyed, just…tired. 

“I figured,” he muttered with a small, dry laugh. “But I had to ask.”

The silence that followed wasn’t warm anymore. It was tense. Awkward. We both looked down at our plates, pretending to still be hungry. Neither of us moved.

Then, mercifully, the waiter came by with a polite smile. “Can I bring the bill over?”

“Yes, please,” Darren said before I could answer. “We’ll split it.”

I blinked, surprised.

Not because I couldn’t afford it—I could easily pay for the whole restaurant if I wanted to—but because I wasn’t used to it. I’d never split a bill before in my life.

Not even with the worst men I knew. Not even with my father, who made a habit of reminding me what I owed him, but never once let me reach for my card at dinner.

Something about it caught me off guard. Not in a spoiled way—just in a this-is-new kind of way. It felt like another small reminder that Darren and I were never going to see things quite the same.

I reached for my purse slowly, keeping my expression neutral.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, even though I didn’t really know what I was thanking him for.

He gave a quick nod, like he didn’t want to dwell on it either.

By the time we stepped outside, the warmth of the evening couldn’t quite thaw the distance between us.

Outside, the street was quieter than before. The buzz of the city had faded into softer echoes—dim headlights passing, the occasional laugh from a distant patio. The sky had turned that deep navy blue, the kind that makes everything feel lonelier than it is.

Darren pulled me into a hug. It was brief, one-armed, like something you’d give a friend you didn’t know how to say goodbye to.

“I’ll see you later,” he said as he pulled back.

I gave a small nod, still feeling the weight of the unspoken things between us. “Yeah. See you.”

Then he paused. “Do you have a ride home?”

I stared at him for a second, blinking. “Didn’t you…Pick me up?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my eyes. “Yeah, I did. Sorry, I just—I’ve got an early morning and I figured you might have called someone or something.”

Excuse me? Who raised this guy? 

He picked me up. We drove here together, and now—what? I was supposed to just…figure it out?

“Right,” I said quietly, more to myself than to him. “I’ll get an Uber.”

Darren nodded like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Cool. Text me when you get home, yeah?”

Then he was already turning away, unlocking his car, slipping into the driver’s seat without a second glance.

I didn’t move. I just stood on the curb, staring after his car as it pulled off and disappeared around the corner.

Something about it sat wrong in my chest. Not because I couldn’t get home—had options. I could call a car in thirty seconds. I could call my driver. 

But it was the way he didn’t even offer. It was dark. Late. I was wearing heels. We had just finished a full dinner together. Somehow, I was suddenly just… someone to be dropped off emotionally and physically.

Not even dropped off. Left to drop myself off.

I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone, intending to order an Uber. But the screen stays stubbornly black.

I pressed the screen again—nothing.

My phone was dead.

Of course.

I stared at it, frustration rising. No way to call, no way to text, no way to get an Uber.

The street was quiet, dimly lit by flickering streetlights. The night suddenly felt colder, lonelier.

Help me. Anyone. 

I stared down at my dead phone like it had betrayed me. No texts, no calls, no Uber. Just silence.

Darren was gone. The street was mostly empty, and I was alone. Just cars, no people on the sidewalk.

I looked around, hoping maybe, by some miracle, there’d be a cab nearby. Nothing. Not even a soul walking past. 

I tightened my coat around myself and glanced down the sidewalk, exhaling slowly. I wasn’t going to lie, I was slightly scared. I wouldn’t say Boston was safe at night. 

I didn’t live far. Maybe…two hours on foot. 

I wanted to cry. 

It was late, and dark, and I was in heels, but I didn’t really have a choice.

So I started walking.

The city looked different when you weren’t looking at it from a window or a car. It felt bigger. The shadows stretched longer. My footsteps echoed on the pavement louder than they should have. I kept my head down, my bag clenched tightly to my side.

Every sound made me flinch just slightly—a car door, a siren in the distance, someone laughing too far away to be comforting.

I was halfway down the block when headlights swung around the corner behind me. I instinctively stepped to the side, hugging the edge of the sidewalk.

The car slowed.

I didn’t look back.

But I heard the window roll down.

“Aurora?”

I froze.

That voice.

I turned slowly, blinking against the lights.

Christopher.

He was in the driver’s seat of his expensive jeep, eyes narrowing with confusion and something else—concern? Anger?

“What the hell are you doing out here?” he asked yelling, pulling the car closer to the curb.

This guy was the last person I needed to see right now.

I turned away without a word and kept walking, heels clicking against the pavement, faster this time.

I heard his car door slam behind me, but I didn’t look back.

I couldn’t. Not tonight.

Let him drive away. Let him be confused or irritated or whatever emotion he wanted to wrap around that sharp tongue of his.

But then—

I felt it.

A hand wrapped gently but firmly around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

My breath caught.

“Aurora,” he said again, closer this time, voice lower, more serious. “Stop.”

I didn’t turn around at first. I just stared ahead, heart pounding for reasons I didn’t want to admit.

“Let go,” I said quietly.

He did—but didn’t move back.

I straightened my posture before turning halfway, brushing my hair behind my ear with a calm I didn’t feel. 

“I was just going for a walk.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “In heels? At ten at night? Alone?”

I swallowed, glancing at the sidewalk. “I needed air.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Right. Try again”

I sighed. “I was out with friends, okay? My car didn’t have enough gas, and my phone died. It’s not a big deal.”

His eyes locked on mine, sharp and unrelenting.

“You don’t drive in the dark and you flinch at sidewalk cracks,” he said flatly. 

I didn’t answer.

Mostly because there was nothing left in me to say, but when I looked at him, it was like no time had passed at all. Like he hadn’t shattered me. Like my heart hadn’t learned how to ache because of him. 

So instead, I just let out a snarky comment. 

“Why the hell are you even here? Are you keeping tabs on me?” I scoffed. 

Chris looked past me, then tilted his head toward the street. “Look over there.”

I followed his gaze.

Across the road, glowing white letters lit up the dark glass of a tall building.

His building. His company. His logo.

I blinked. Oh.  

“I was working late,” he said quietly, his tone low and unreadable. “You’re in my district, Aurora. So really, I should be the one asking—are you keeping tabs on me?”

I felt my stomach twist, embarrassment crawling up my throat.

I hadn’t even realized where I was. Of all places.

I felt a sudden drop fall onto my nose. 

Great. This is just great. 

He looked at me again. “You don’t have to tell me the truth. But I’m not letting you walk home.”

He stepped back, nodding toward his car.

“Get in. It's going to rain.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

“Aurora—”

“No,” I said, louder. “I’m fine.”

I turned again and started walking—fast, anywhere, nowhere. My feet carried me into some random parking lot, the kind that looked deserted after hours, shadows cast by broken lights and half-empty signs.

I didn’t even know where I was going. I just needed to move. To get away.

“Aurora,” Chris called behind me, footsteps catching up. “Where are you going?”

I didn’t answer. My hands were fists at my sides.

“Seriously? Into a dark parking lot? What are you doing?”

“Leave me alone!” I snapped over my shoulder, not stopping.

He kept coming. “You’re being difficult for no reason—”

I whipped around.

“No reason?” My voice cracked.

He froze.

The droplets started to increase. 

I let out a shaky breath, arms dropping to my sides. “You think I want to see you? You think I want to sit in your car and pretend like we’re—like we’re fine?”

Silence.

“I didn’t ask you to show up. I didn’t ask you to save me,” I said, voice rising. “I didn’t ask for anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said quietly. 

I looked away, blinking fast. My throat was burning.

“I had one bad night,” I whispered, “and of course, it had to be you who saw me.”

He took a careful step forward. “Why does that bother you so much?”

I looked at him, eyes glassy. “Because I’m trying to move on. And every time I think I’m doing okay, you show up.”

His expression softened. “Aurora—”

“I don’t want to need you.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Chris didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Suddenly, I felt everything all at once—embarrassment, anger, exhaustion.

I wrapped my arms around myself. “I just wanted one night. One simple night without memories, without you in my head.”

For a long second, he said nothing. 

Then, quietly, “What happened tonight?”

I looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

“I don’t care anymore,” I said flatly, pulling my arms tighter around myself. “You showing up like this—it doesn’t mean anything.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Then why are you shaking?”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

I looked away. “Just leave.”

But he didn’t move. Not even a step. He just stood there, the rain properly drizzling now. 

Both of us soaked. 

He tilted his head, studying me like he was trying to read a language he used to know but couldn’t quite translate anymore. “You’re not okay. And I don’t believe for a second that you just happened to be out walking alone—at night, in this neighbourhood, with a dead phone.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“I never said you did.”

“Then stop acting like you deserve one.” I snapped. “We’re not anything anymore, Chris. You don’t get to show up and act like you still know me.” 

I heard him sigh. I just wanted him to feel, though. 

“I have a boyfriend,” I said, the words leaving my mouth like I’d rehearsed them a hundred times, even though I hadn’t.

Chris froze, eyebrows pulling together. “What?”

I didn’t flinch. “You heard me.”

His voice dropped. “Who?”

I shrugged. “The guy you saw at the show a few months ago.”

Chris’s eyes narrowed, the memory hitting him. “That guy…you’re with him now?”

I hesitated for half a second before answering.

“He asked,” I said, voice light, indifferent. “And I’m going to say yes.”

Chris stared at me like I’d just punched him in the gut.

“You’re going to say yes,” he repeated slowly, like he needed to hear it out loud again to believe it.

I nodded, but I couldn’t meet his eyes for long.

Chris’s face drained of colour, like the world had suddenly tipped sideways. I thought I saw his eyes glisten—was that a tear? No, I must be imagining it. Though his voice, when he spoke, was barely more than a whisper, raw and desperate.

No. Chris Sturniolo doesn’t hurt, he does the hurting. 

We stood there in the rain with complete silence between us. Before he spoke up. 

“Please…don’t say yes.” 

He stepped closer, his hands trembling as if holding himself together was a struggle.

“Why?” I whispered, heart pounding, trying to stay calm.

“Because you’re not meant for that,” he said, voice cracking with a kind of pleading I’d never heard from him. “You don’t give up like that. Not on yourself. Not on me.”

He swallowed hard, eyes searching mine, vulnerable and raw. “I know I don’t deserve it. I know I’ve hurt you. But… Please, don’t forget me.”

His body was so close to me now, the red in his face evident. 

I wasn’t wrong. Chris was…Chris was crying. 

Before I could say anything, his shoulders sagged, and he stumbled forward like all the strength had drained out of him. His head dropped against my chest, and I felt the sudden, warm weight of his body lean into me.

He was crying.

Real, raw tears, silent but unstoppable. He was actually crying. 

The coldhearted, arrogant, stern Chris was holding onto me, begging me not to leave.

I froze, heart hammering, breath caught in my throat. I had never seen him like this—never imagined this side of him.

His hands clenched weakly at my waist as he trembled, his tears mixing with the rain falling. 

I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to pull away, but another part wrapped itself around him, steadying him, holding him.

“Chris…” I whispered, voice barely audible, still stunned.

His face was pressed into the crook of my neck, warm and trembling against my skin. His voice came out barely above a whisper, rough with emotion.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low. 

I stiffened, struggling to steady myself. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t fall for him, Ma,” he pleaded, tone thick with yearning. “Don’t fall for anyone but me.”

My own tears started to enter my waterline, begging not to fall. 

“Chris”, I said, still holding him.

After a moment, he held himself up. Still close, but looking into my watery eyes, with his own. 

“In December, on that beach,” he began softly, “you asked me if I’d ever been in love. I said no.”

I stayed silent, waiting.

“Ask me again.”

My breath caught in my throat. I knew what he was going to say. I didn’t want him to say it.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered, wiping away a tear that slipped down my cheek.

“Aurora, I lov—”

“Don’t say it.”

“I love you.”

“Chris!” 

My chest heaved.

He didn’t stop. 

“I love you, Aurora!” he said, louder this time—like it had been clawing its way out of him for months.

His voice cracked. “I hurt you, I know I have—and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you let me.”

My tears were falling freely now, hot and silent. My whole body was burning, caught between the past and everything we never said.

He reached out, cupping my cheek with trembling fingers, wiping a tear away with his thumb.

“Tell me you don’t feel it, Aurora,” he whispered, eyes searching mine like they held his last hope. “Tell me you don’t love me.”

I stared up at him, and every bit of restraint I had built—shattered in that moment. 

“Loving you was never the problem, Chris,” I said, my voice barely above a breath. “Being with you was all I wanted”. 

“Then be with me, baby.” he pulled me closer, the rain swallowing both of us. “I’ve been waiting for you, ever since you left. I’ve been waiting”. 

He took my head and tucked it into his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into my hair.

“Do you even know why you’re apologizing?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t fight for you harder. I’m sorry I wasn’t ready to love you the way you deserved.”

He continued. 

“I know I’m not perfect—God, I’m far from it. I’ve messed up more times than I can count. But I’ll learn. I’ll change. I’ll become better if it means I get to be yours. I love you so damn much, I don’t even know what to do with myself. I tried…I really tried to live without you. But I can’t. Everything reminds me of you. The penthouse doesn’t feel like home anymore—it’s just empty without you. I miss you. I miss us.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“I’d rather hurt with you than heal without you.”

His words cut deep. 

“Please, Aurora,” he said softly, his voice laced with worry. “Just come home tonight. You’re going to get sick out here.”

The night air had grown colder, and the rain clung to our skin like a second layer. My straight hair had turned wavy from the damp, clinging to my face in loose, messy strands. His hair, usually styled to perfection, had fallen flat, droplets dripping from the ends. We stood there, soaked. 

I looked away, torn. My lips parted like I had something to say, but nothing came out. I didn’t know what the right thing was anymore.

He took a step closer. “You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to decide anything now. Just…let me take care of you, even if it’s just for a few hours. I don’t want you alone tonight.”

I hesitated—just for a second—but it was long enough for him to notice. His hand brushed against mine, careful, waiting for me to pull away.

“Okay.”

He looked at me, before it melted into a broken smile.

“Okay?” he echoed, like he needed to hear it again just to believe it.

I nodded, slowly. “Yeah.”

Gently, he reached for my hand. His fingers laced through mine, warm and familiar. We didn’t say another word as he led me toward his car. 

Just as he opened the front passenger door for me, I heard him murmur under his breath. 

“I’m never leaving you again.”

CHRISTOPHER 

It didn’t take long to get Aurora back to my place—our place.

The drive was quiet. Unsettlingly quiet. She stared out the window the whole time, her face unreadable, but her fingers fidgeted in her lap. I knew her well enough to know that meant she was overwhelmed. Maybe scared. Probably both.

I kept my eyes on the road, but every red light, every slow turn, I found myself glancing at her. Just to make sure she was real. That she was actually here. That I hadn’t just imagined the entire night—her voice, her tears, the way her arms finally wrapped around me like she needed me again.

Gosh, I needed her, too.

I killed the engine and stepped out. I opened her door like I always used to. She didn’t say anything, just stepped out quietly and followed me inside. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, I heard the soft sound of her footsteps beside mine.

She was home. Now I just had to figure out how to keep her here.

As soon as we stepped inside, I saw her shiver. The warmth of the house hit me, but it didn’t seem to reach her.

“You’re still cold,” I said, my voice low. “Come on.”

She didn’t respond, but her eyes met mine for a second—guarded, tired—and then she followed.

I led her into my room.

“Take a hot shower,” I told her gently. “You’re soaked.”

She stood near the doorway like she wasn’t sure she should be here. Like she didn’t know if it was still her place.

Without saying anything else, I opened my closet and grabbed a hoodie—one I remembered she used to steal from me—and a pair of grey sweatpants that would probably fall off her, but they’d be warm.

“I’ll leave these here,” I said, setting them on the edge of the bed. “There are towels in the bathroom drawer. Just... take your time.”

She still hadn’t moved. Still hadn’t spoken. But when I passed by her on my way out, I felt her eyes on me.

“Aurora?” I said, pausing in the doorway.

She looked up. 

“I’ll be right outside. Okay?”

She gave the faintest nod.

I had gone back to the kitchen, running a hand through my damp hair, when Ana spotted me.

“Who’s here?” she asked, her brows lifting with concern.

“Aurora,” I said quietly.

Her eyes widened. “Aurora? Where is she? Is she alright?”

“She’s upstairs,” I replied, glancing toward the staircase. “She was caught in the rain. I told her to take a shower, warm up.”

Ana’s expression softened, but her worry didn’t fade. “Is she hurt? Did something happen?”

I shook my head. 

“Not physically, no. But…” I trailed off, unsure how to explain the storm I’d seen behind Aurora’s eyes. The way she looked at me was like she still carried every piece of pain I’d caused her.

Ana stepped forward, her voice lowering. “Did she come here on her own?”

“No. I found her.” My jaw tightened. “She was walking. Alone..”

Ana blinked, then placed a hand on my arm. “Chris…”

I sighed and maneuvered my way further into the kitchen. 

Around half an hour passed, and I still hadn’t heard from her.

I knocked lightly on the bathroom door—nothing.

“Aurora?” I called, my voice low but cautious.

Still no answer.

I pushed the door open gently. The bathroom was empty, and the towel she’d used hung neatly on the rack. My heart dropped. I stepped into the bedroom—no sign of her. The shirt and sweatpants I’d given her were gone from the bed. My pulse quickened. 

No. She wouldn’t just leave again. Not without saying anything. Not this time.

I moved fast, checking the hallway, the guest room, the front door—locked. I was just about to grab my phone when something caught my eye through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

There she was. Out on the balcony. Like no time had passed. Her favorite place.

I stood frozen, staring at the curve of her back. The sight felt painfully familiar—like a memory I’d replayed a hundred times before but never thought I’d get to see again. The way the soft light hit her hair, the quiet stillness she carried—it was both comforting and heartbreaking all at once.

I grabbed a mug of tea from the kitchen and quietly stepped out onto the balcony.

She didn’t turn around, but I set the warm cup down beside her.

The steam curled up between us in the cool night air.

“I thought you might need this,” I said softly, my voice barely more than a whisper.

She didn’t say anything, but I could tell she appreciated it.

She accepted the cup and settled into one of the chairs.

Silence wasn’t something I was comfortable with.

“Talk to me, baby,” I urged gently, sitting down beside her. 

She turned her head towards me, her beautiful doe eyes staring at me. 

I couldn’t believe she was really here—actually here—after all these months of distance between us. She was with me, in my home, even wearing my clothes.

Suddenly, a small smile broke across her face.

I narrowed my eyes. “What’s that about?”

She teased, “Aren’t you gonna pull out a cigarette now?”

I exhaled softly, a chuckle escaping me. “No, Ma. I quit.”

She raised an eyebrow. “When’d you quit?”

I shrugged lightly. “A couple of months ago.”

“That’s good,” she said softly, then glanced at me curiously. “Why’d you quit? What changed you’re mind?”

I gave a lazy smile her way, “You don’t like smokers.”

She blinked, caught off guard.

“Wait…you actually quit smoking because of me?” Her voice was soft, almost disbelieving.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, but there was a hint of something real in my eyes.

“Figured if I wanted any chance with you, I had to quit.”

She looked at me, a mix of surprise and something softer in her gaze.

I met her gaze and said, “Since you asked me something, now it’s my turn.”

She nodded quietly, a little wary but willing.

“So,” I began, “what was the real reason you were out tonight?”

Her shoulders sagged slightly, and after a long pause, she spoke, her voice low and hesitant. She looked a bit embarrassed. 

“So, um… Darren—the guy from the show. We went to eat tonight, and he couldn’t drop me off,” she said hesitantly.

I narrowed my eyes. “The same guy who asked you to be his girlfriend?”

She nodded, biting her lip. 

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. 

“Some asshole left you alone. In the dark,” I said, my voice shaking with fury. 

Who in their right mind lets a woman walk alone, especially at night?

“You could’ve gotten hurt. Anything could’ve happened to you”, I said, protectiveness crawling into me. 

I turned to face her again, my chest rising and falling. I watched her closely, a frown on her face. 

“That guy? He’s done. I don’t care what excuse he gave. A real man doesn’t leave a woman stranded. Especially you. Not ever.”

She stayed silent. 

I lowered my voice but not my protectiveness. “I want him gone. You hear me? I don’t want him calling you, texting you—nothing. You’re mine, and I swear I’ll break his neck if he tries some shit”

I exhaled, some of the anger sliding as I looked at her. I couldn’t stop looking at her, even though I had her whole face basically engraved in my mind. 

I examined her silence. 

“You alright?” I asked, softer now. “Tell me the truth.”

She gave a small smile. “Yeah. Just…my feet hurt. Heels were a bad idea.”

I looked down and noticed her feet tucked against the balcony chair; she had socks on, my socks. 

I smiled, realizing she had taken a pair from my drawer. 

One step closer to her feeling at home again. 

Without a word, I reached over and gently pulled one leg onto my lap.

Her head turned toward me, brows raised slightly. “What are you doing?”

“Relax,” I said, my hands already working over the arch of her foot.

She didn’t say anything—just watched me as I continued rubbing soft circles into her, easing the tension from her soles. I moved to the other foot, taking care of it. I watched her relax and drink the tea. 

A few quiet minutes passed. The night air was calmer now, the rain long gone. 

She hadn't spoken, but I could tell something was shifting in her. Her breathing was steadier, her shoulders less tense. 

Then, softly, almost like she was afraid of breaking the stillness, she asked, “Did you mean it?”

I looked at her, my brows pulling together. “Mean what?”

She hesitated, biting her lip. Her eyes didn’t meet mine right away. “That you still care… that you… Love me.”

My heart thudded hard in my chest.

I took one of her hands in mine. Her softness engulfed me, my thumb traced gentle circles against her skin, memorizing her all over again.

“I meant every word, my love”. 

She looked at me—really looked—and for a second, it felt like the world slowed. Like the pain, the distance, the lost time… all of it folded into this moment.

“I never say things I don’t mean,” I added. “Especially not with you.”

I held her gaze, letting the quiet settle between us, and I cupped her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my palm.

She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. A world without her would be a world without beauty, at least for me.

I leaned in slowly, our faces just inches apart, giving her a moment to pull away if she wanted. She didn’t. So I closed the distance gently, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. The familiar warmth hit me instantly.  

When we pulled apart, she glanced away for a moment, a faint blush coloring her cheek. Small smiles played on both our lips.

I stared at her face, showering her with the look of love. 

READ ALL RELEASED CHAPTERS HERE!

[a/n: I missed them to be honest. Time for the healing process! I can't believe were near the end of this series. Like and reblog! Mwah I love you] – Ceyana

tags: @loser41ifee @bluestriips @mattsfrenchtoast @slvtf0rchr1s @courta13 @emeraldsturns @mattscore @chriss-slutt @chrissturniolodailysluts @pip4444chris @oopsiedaisydeer @y3sterdaysproblem @sagesturns @prettyingreen4chris @ilovenicksturniolosblog @lm-a-mirrorball @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @kingofeverythingmb @kitty-meow-meow44 @maraschino9 @mattsdemi @chrissturniolobendmeovernow @kenah-sturniolo @le4hsblog @idkwhatthisis2009 @anonymouslyachris @maricat12

[inkskinned]

no, but really, we need to talk about the casual objectification that has become the fallback discourse of the internet: if you're pretty and dressed nicely, you're a slut. and if you're even vaguely outside of their body standard, you're fucking disgusting.

too-frequently, people position sex workers as being "the problem". they sneer you're addicted to pornography, you don't know what a real woman looks like. but real women are in pornography. the real bodies on display are not the issue here: the issue is that other people feel extremely confident when commenting on someone's physique.

2000's super-thin is slowly worming its way back into the public ideal. recently i saw someone get told to "go for a run", despite the fact she was on the thinner side of average. not that it would ever be appropriate to say that: but it's kind of like sticker shock when you see it. people think that is fat? holy shit. do they just have no idea about things?

but what are you going to do about it? that's the problem, right. because chances are - you're a normal person. we can say normalize carrying fat on your body, but we are not the billion-dollar diet industry. we are not the billion-dollar fashion industry. we are just, like. people. who are trying to make content on the internet, without being treated shittily.

as someone who has been on both sides of things: you are treated better when you are thin and pretty. this is statistically correct. i am not saying that you cannot be bullied for being thin; i'm saying there are objective institutional biases against certain bodytypes. there are videos of men and women who lost weight all saying: i now know for a fact exactly how much worse you're treated. in the comments, some asshole inevitably says something akin to you deserved to be dehumanized when you were fat.

which means that ... the easiest thing to do is be pretty and thin. it is the path of least resistance, because of course it is, because any time you post a picture of yourself without a thigh gap, someone immediately comments something like you need to try a diet.

the other half is also dehumanizing though, huh, just in a different way. when i put on makeup and nice clothes, i am told i slept my way to the top as a professional. do you know how many women in STEM have told me they purposefully dress to "unimpress" because they already struggle to be taken seriously and if they're ever considered pretty - it for some reason takes away from their authority.

so they make it seem like it's your fault. you, existing in a body - it's your fault! if you didn't want shitty comments, don't have a body. they position us against each other like chess pieces; vying for male attention we don't even need.

and i can be an authority on this unless you think i'm fat and unattractive. when i am pretty and thin, i'm an activist. when i am just a normal person who makes a good point: i am immediately dismissed. nobody fucking believes you if you're not seen as attractive. you literally lose value. you cease to exist.

but the whole time, it feels like - is anyone actually grounded the fuck in reality? the line of "pretty and thin" keeps shifting. nobody seems to understand what "a normal weight" even looks like, because it's not something that exists - you cannot tell a person's health by looking at their body. even if you think you could tell that, even if you're sure a person is dangerously overweight - people are not your dolls. they do not need to be dressed up or displayed properly to soothe your aesthetics. you aren't concerned for them, you're stealing their agency. you don't get to say if they're "allowed" to take pictures and post them on the internet - you don't get to tell them how to exist.

people hide behind "the obesity epidemic" without any actual qualifications. they crow things about "normalizing unhealthiness".

but it's bullshit. i have visible abs. there is a pair of parallel lines on my body, even when i'm relaxed; where my obliques meet my abdominal wall. i am proud of this because it means i'm strong, because i overcame an eating disorder only to be ripped as fuck. it is genetic and physical luck that i even get any definition, i'm pleased as punch.

but it does mean that my abdominal wall sticks out a little bit. the other day i posted a video of myself dancing, and, for a moment, my shirt slipped. you could see a little bit of my stomach. i was cartwheeling to the floor. moments before this, i'd had my foot over my head.

a guy slid into my DMs. a row of vomiting emojis prefaced: you should really lose some weight before you think about dancing.

i stared at it for a long time. there was a time when i would have been triggered by this, where it would have encouraged me to starve myself. i would have ignored the fact i'm flexible, agile, good at jumping: i would have lost the weight for a stranger's passing comment. i would have found myself and my body fucking disgusting.

and for what? to please what? because why? so that he can exist in this world without an unchallenged eyeball? what would my self-hatred even accomplish? usually i write paragraphs. obviously. on this particular occasion, in this body i've been at war with for ages: i just felt exhausted.

it shouldn't be even worth saying. it shouldn't be hard to explain. all of this emotional turmoil when he cannot even comprehend the most basic truth: i am not an object on display for him.

[bug-slappy]

sharing my opinion here about serizawas design inconsistencies over time (spoilers for mp100 ending) i feel like in each new rendition of serizawa weve seen in official art ever since the start of S3 something feels off in a different way with every new merch release

lets start here ⬇ serizawa looks like,, himself. accurate to how hes drawn since his first anime appearance

⬇⬇⬇ and then slowly,,, things start to look off. his jawline is slowly getting slimmer, his eyes look wider (same with mobs too)

AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THESE. especially the one on the right my god. who is that

every new promo art that comes out just feels very careless. I think you could say so for all the characters (mobs giant eyes, reigens waist getting skinnier/pointier features. the PROMO art of dimple that was literally FULLY TRACED OFF OF A TEMU PIRATE HALLOWEEN COSTUME. they all look bad here)

it just feels a little depressing how little they seem to care anymore, like theyre just trying to pump out merch without bothering to use a character reference.

i notice the changes the most with serizawa. every promo art looks like theyre playing a game of telephone. each version of him is based on the last, instead of his initial design (shown below)

at the end of S2, when reigen cuts serizawas hair, he still looks like himself. they did a great job of showing "how serizawa would look underneath his moustache and big hair". In S3 it feels like they've lost that mentality completely. like he's no longer based off of his original design, but an entirely new reference of his salary man look. some comparisons between S3 vs S2 and OVA down below

I find that the line weight in S3 is much heavier and unfocused. but what bothers me most of all is that... Serizawa looks different in nearly every scene... as if they're undecided on what he should look like. the shape of his nose and jaw, his hair all change depending on the episode entirely.

The art style change for S3 was meant to be "more accurate to the manga", but I find that it had the opposite effect. especially how serizawas and ritsus eye shapes changed. ritsus large pupils and serizawas more almond shaped eyes were more reflective of their manga designs there are plenty of inconsistences in S1 and 2, but they're clearly done with purpose to reflect on ONEs art style (my beloved). I feel like the thinner lines allow more room for detail and extreme facial expressions that truly hold a candle to ONEs insane talent for capturing emotions.

these ^^^ compared to..

erm.. this.. ⬇

just felt very underwhelming... and serizawa certainly does mellow out once he starts working at S&S, but that doesn't mean that there's less opportunity for detailed expressions !!

the yokai fight scene was beautifully made i have no qualms.. but the amount of serizawa lore and dialogue in the manga that got cut from the anime just made him look like a cardboard cut out standing behind everyone. lots of funny and interesting moments cut to make room for the moefication of serizawa katsuya..

I feel like there's a lot of important moments that were cut, (reigen "i hope i can become a partner like that" arataka, serizawa "ive had a similar experience myself" katsuya )

or sad, intense scenes that were made lighthearted (the body improvement club trying to help mob, mob and ??? dialogue being cut, reigen removing his shoes in the final arc made to be meant for better grip rather than... his passively suicidal tendencies )

i think the people at bones are very talented dont get me wrong, i just felt like S3 could have been adapted better. this keeps me up at night its like 1am :) anywhosies thank you for listening to my ted talk i love you

[thereweredragonshere]

Hi!!!!

First I just wanted to say that I love your art, and that your art of Astrid has been slowly pulling me into the Buffstrid camp!

And secondly, do you have any advice on drawing Night Furies? I've been having trouble with it (there's a 1/4 complete drawing I have just TAUNTING me) and in particular trouble with boiling it down to just shapes.

Heyy!!! :D

Thank you so so much!! <3

I find that night furies can be broken up into five basic shapes, which are then expanded upon

I will admit that it is hard to put the connection between these shapes into words. I find a lot of this comes from having traced over toothless so many times that my hand quit its job and filed a lawsuit against me. My best advice is to use those basic shapes and trace over toothless with them in mind to gain your own understanding of how he is structured, as it works differently in every artist’s mind.

- The chest is boxy and the broadest part of the torso (Think kinda like a bird, cuz they gotta have all that muscle for the wings. And the ribcage is there)

- The midsection gets increasingly thinner

- The pelvis is the pinch point where the body transitions into the tail

Another thing is the structure of the back.

I know that looks horrible and mathematical but I promise you those three red triangles are such life savers.

The top blue line is where the spine (presumably) is, so that is the most flexible part of the back. Everything will bend in accordance with it. It starts at point A of the red triangles, and ends at the pelvis. Point A to point C is on a slant, and is the absolute widest part of the body.

Because I’ve done it so many times I don’t actually draw out that triangle when I’m structuring a night fury, but it’s something that I’m always thinking about whilst plotting the important meeting points.

Another thing I tend to do is draw a line down the direct middle of the back when planning out how the pose will look

Here are a few sketches I did recently of my oc Prosper.

You can see in the first sketch that there is a directional line going down the very centre of her back. That was draw before I did any of the actual structured parts of her body.

BUT ALSO!! In the sketch closest to the right, you can see that I very obviously ignored the whole triangle shite with the chest. This is a psa that you do not under all circumstances have to stick to anatomy rules. Sometimes drawing tips do not apply and fuck yeah artistic stylisation man! That ribcage would not at all function on a real animal but does it look awful and horrible and like it should die? Nope! And- in the middle sketch, I did stick to the triangle rule. Example of selectively using drawing tips where they feel appropriate!!

Honestly there are so many points I could make when it comes to drawing these guys that there are just too many for one post. If there’s anything you want me to go specifically into detail on please do feel free to send in asks for it!

[gigiii1sblog]

DORM-ROOM DEVIL 014

Warnings: mature content, fluff, sexual content, teasing, dirty talk, unprotected sexual content.

Chapter Fourteen: Whats Left Of Us.

Y/N POV: A couple days later

I hadn’t planned on coming back.

The idea of walking into that dorm, into that scent that clung to his hoodie, the silence between the walls, the memories echoing in my mattress, made me sick. Literally.

But I had to come back. I didn’t want my mom asking questions, and I couldn’t keep hiding in my childhood bedroom pretending everything was fine while secretly staring at two pink lines taped behind my mirror.

So I came back. Quietly. Slipped through the hallway like a ghost, key trembling in my hand, hoping, praying, he wasn’t there.

The second I opened the door, though, I knew he was.

The air was thick. That familiar blend of weed and whatever cologne he always overused. The room was dim, music buzzing low from his speaker, some moody, lazy rap beat. And there he was.

Chris.

Laid out on the couch, hoodie halfway off, eyes red and glassy, an unlit blunt tucked behind his ear like a cigarette. He didn’t even look up at first.

I shut the door quietly, dropped my bag at the edge of the counter, and moved past him like he was furniture.

But he always noticed me, even when he was high.

“You came back,” he muttered, voice hoarse like smoke and regret.

I didn’t say anything. Just kept my eyes on the fridge as I opened it and stared at nothing but Pepsi’s.

He sat up slowly. “Y/N… Can we—can we not do the cold shoulder thing? Please?”

I blinked hard, forcing my jaw to stay locked, the pressure building behind my eyes like a storm.

“You don’t get to ask me for anything right now,” I said flatly, keeping my back turned.

He let out a sharp breath. “You said I’d never lose you.”

“Well maybe you should stop testing that theory.”

That shut him up.

A beat of silence fell, heavy and suffocating.

I finally turned around, arms crossed tight, heart pounding. His face was pale. Not in the way it was after a workout or a long night, but in that way where someone looks like they’re slowly rotting from the inside. He was thinner, more tired. The rings under his eyes were darker.

“You look like shit,” I whispered. “Have you even eaten?”

He smiled, and it cracked me. That same crooked, boyish grin I’d fallen in love with. Only now it looked hollow.

“Didn’t really feel like it without you.”

God.

I turned away again, biting the inside of my cheek. The silence in the room hurt more than screaming.

“Y/N,” he said after a long pause. “Talk to me. Please.”

“Why? So you can gaslight me again? Pretend I’m crazy for feeling too much while you act like your world never changed?”

His voice cracked this time. “My world did change. When you left.. it fuck, it stopped.”

I pressed my hands to the counter, body trembling.

“I didn’t leave, Chris. I ran. There’s a difference.”

He got up, slowly, cautiously, like I was some fragile thing that might shatter at any moment. And he wasn’t wrong.

“I’m sorry.” he asked quietly. “I-It was the biggest mistake I’ve ever done.”

I turned around, finally meeting his blue eyes.

And for the first time, I let him see it. The terror. The ache. The truth.

My lips parted. My voice came out like a breath.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Just pure, soul-numbing silence.

His mouth opened, but no words came. His eyes flickered from mine to my stomach, then back again.

I laughed bitterly, a tear slipping down my cheek. “Yeah. Shocking, right? Except maybe not so shocking, considering we were playing house without rules.”

He took a slow step forward. “Y/N… Are you sure?”

I nodded, breath hitching. “Three tests. And a missed period. And the vomiting. And my mom practically begged me to take the test after I fainted in the kitchen.”

He looked like the world was tilting under him. Like everything was shifting too fast.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know if you’d care.”

That broke him.

“Don’t say that,” he breathed, stepping forward, but I flinched back.

“I didn’t want to tell you and watch you shut down. I didn’t want you to look at me like I ruined your life. I’ve been trying to figure it out alone because… because this, whatever this is between us, it’s never felt safe enough to hold something that big.”

His eyes welled up. I don’t think I’d ever seen him cry before.

“I know I’ve hurt you,” he whispered. “God, I know that. I’ve been a fucking mess without you. Every night, I think about the things I should’ve said. The things I never gave you. And now… this.”

I sank to the floor, back against the cabinets, knees pulled to my chest. The tears came faster now, hot and bitter.

He sat beside me, silent, shoulder barely brushing mine.

“I’m scared,” I choked. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t even know if I want this.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute. Just let the silence stretch between us. Then:

“We’ll figure it out.”

I looked at him. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I do. I mean it. I don’t care if we’re broken, or if I’ve screwed up more than I can fix. I’m not letting you do this alone.”

His voice was low. Steady. But terrified.

“You’ll hate me eventually,” I whispered. “When it gets hard.”

“No,” he said softly. “I’ll hate myself if I walk away.”

He reached out, slowly, hand brushing over mine, trembling.

“You’re it for me, Y/N. Always have been. Even when I was too stupid to act like it.”

I let my head fall against his shoulder, tears soaking his sleeve.

We sat there like that.

Two broken kids on a kitchen floor, clinging to what little was left of us, of hope.

And for the first time in weeks, I let myself believe we might survive this.

CHRIS POV:

She said the words and everything stopped.

“I’m pregnant.”

Three syllables, soft and breaking, but loud enough to shatter everything I thought I knew.

I should’ve said something immediately. Anything. But my brain just… froze. All I could think about was her voice trembling, her knees buckling as she lowered to the floor, and the way she couldn’t look me in the eyes.

She’d been carrying this alone.

And I didn’t even know.

What kind of person am I, what kind of man, that the girl I’m in love with was sitting in her childhood home taking pregnancy tests, while I was here getting high and pretending I didn’t miss her?

The guilt hit like a truck.

The silence after her confession was louder than any fight we’d ever had. It felt like standing still in the middle of a burning building, choking on everything I couldn’t say fast enough.

“We’ll figure it out.”

I said it because I meant it. I said it because she needed to hear it. But I was lying, too.

I didn’t know how we’d figure it out. I didn’t know anything, actually. My hands were shaking. My chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about the first time I realized I loved her.

⸻

FLASHBACK:

It was late. We’d snuck out and gone to the beach, just us, a stolen pizza, and a Bluetooth speaker she barely knew how to work.

She had sauce on her cheek. Her hoodie was falling off one shoulder. She was laughing so hard she snorted when I told her the dumbest joke. Her whole face lit up like the moon had competition.

And I remember thinking:

“God. I’m gonna ruin this.”

Not because I wanted to. But because that’s what I did.

I burned things I loved. I didn’t know how not to.

But I also remember the way she looked at me, like she didn’t care that I was messy, or loud, or unpredictable. She saw through it. She stayed anyway.

And then one night, she said it.

“I love you, Chris.”

Like it wasn’t hard. Like it didn’t terrify her.

But I couldn’t say it back. Not because I didn’t feel it, but because it terrified me. Because loving her meant becoming someone I wasn’t sure I could be.

⸻

Now here she was.

Not just knowing she loved me, but trusting me with something that could change her entire life. Our lives.

And I’d almost ruined that, too.

Watching her cry on the kitchen floor was the worst moment of my life. Not because she was broken, but because I didn’t know how to fix it.

I’d never seen her look that scared before. And I’d seen Y/N in every mood, angry, reckless, stubborn, sassy, soft. But this? This wasn’t a version of her I never wanted to see again.

She kept whispering she didn’t know what to do.

And I kept thinking I didn’t deserve to be the one holding her through it.

But she let me.

She let me wrap my arms around her. She let me kiss the side of her head. She let me promise things I’m still not sure I know how to deliver.

But I will.

Because even if I’m a hurricane, she’s not just a house with open windows anymore.

She’s the girl I’ll rebuild myself for.

She’s the girl who made my chaos quiet.

And now she’s carrying something I helped create. Something terrifying and real and unfinished.

And I’ll be damned if she ever has to feel alone again because to me she looked like salvation.

And I—

I only ever knew how to sin.

I warned her.

Told her not to love a boy who kisses like he’s starving.

Told her I’d ruin her.

And she smiled like she didn’t care.

But I did.

God, I did.

And still—I let go.

Not all at once.

Not with some big final fight or a door slamming behind me.

But slowly.

With every careless word.

With that kiss I gave someone else when I was drunk and lost and looking for anything to distract me from the way I couldn’t breathe without her.

It was one kiss.

One second.

One massive fucking mistake.

And I thought that was the worst thing I’d ever do to her.

Until the hallway light hit her face,

her hands trembling as she walked in.

I questioned her once,

twice,

and she looked up at me like she was drowning and whispered—

“I’m pregnant.”

Everything went still.

The walls didn’t move.

The air didn’t shift.

But inside me, something shattered.

Not because I didn’t want it.

Not because I didn’t want her.

But because suddenly I was standing at a crossroads I never thought I’d be at 20.

And in every direction I saw her face.

I saw the way she talked about her dad.

The silence in her voice when his name came up.

The hollow ache in her laugh when she said he was never there.

And suddenly it wasn’t about me anymore.

It was about not becoming him.

I couldn’t be the guy who left.

I couldn’t be the reason another kid grew up with questions instead of answers, tears instead of hugs.

But I didn’t know how to say that.

Didn’t know how to make her believe it wasn’t just about guilt.

That I wanted this, wanted her, even if I was scared as hell.

I remember I just sat there,

quiet after begging,

while she packed her bag and told me she was leaving.

I let her leave.

Again.

And she doesn’t know this—

but I sat on that dorm floor after she slammed the door,

head between my knees,

praying to a God, I stopped talking to years ago

that she wouldn’t shut me out forever.

I love her.

I love her in the kind of way that makes your chest hurt.

The kind of way that doesn’t go away even after you’ve broken every part of her.

Even after she says she hates you.

But I can’t take it back.

The kiss.

The silence.

The fear.

I can’t rewrite the way she looked at me that night in the dorm hallway.

Tears in her eyes, throwing things.

That wild, hurt look on her face like I’d just set her whole world on fire.

But I can try to be better.

Not just for her.

Not just for me.

But for the little life growing inside her that didn’t ask for any of this.

Because this time,

I can’t be the boy who walks away.

Not when I know what leaving costs.

Not when I’ve seen what that did to her.

And if she gives me the chance—

even just one—

I’ll spend the rest of my life unlearning every part of me that hurt her.

Because I love her.

Because I choose her.

Because I refuse to become her father.

@izzylovesmatt @riggysworld @amiraisafreakokaysorry @ansteeze @pair-of-pantaloons @kitty-meow-meow44@emeraldsturns @sturnslux3 @kalel2005 @sarahsturnn @teheabrams @needchrissturniolobad @julessspoetry @sturniszn @slutforchrissturniolo2@alinagrace11 @beardedbernard @matthewswifeyy @blindedheartp

[daycourtofficial]

Come Back to Bed

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night needing Eris.

Warnings: smut, literally just smut, cock-warming, degradation, Eris being the hottest man alive

Your footsteps are silent as you patter down the hall, the silence of the Forest House a nice surprise. Between Eris’s brothers and the staff of the house, the place was usually bustling with people and noise.

You slink to Eris’s study, slowly opening the door, trying not to disturb him too much. You walk over to him, draping your arms over his shoulders from behind and whisper, “come to bed.”

Your mate had told you he would have a long night tonight - he had been neglecting some correspondence the past week in favor of time with you, and he didn’t want it to get too bad.

He grabs your hand, rubbing soothing circles on the back of it. “I just need another hour, bunny.”

You sigh into his neck, and walk around the chair, moving his arms so you can sit directly on his lap.

He at least had changed into some loose sleep pants, your mate often choosing formality over comfort. You’re glad he listened to you about being comfortable, however the thinner pants might be a problem for you, considering the reason you came to seek him out.

He sets his quill down, his hands ghosting over the backs of your thighs that your short nightgown doesn’t cover, helping you lower yourself right over him.

You practically moan feeling his cock pressed against you, and he gives you a feline smirk.

“Oh, bunny, is that why you came to find me?” He asks, one of his hands softly grabbing your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking of me?”

Your hips start grinding against him, the only thing separating you two is his thin pants.

The hand on his neck gently glides down your body, caressing your breasts as it moves, and lands on one of your hips, his other hand taking the other hip, holding you in place.

He starts guiding your grinding, forcing you to go faster, as you tell him quietly, “I had a-a dream.”

His smirk grows even larger, his fingers digging deeper into your skin.

“My little bunny can’t have a peaceful night’s rest without my cock, can she?”

He quickly pulls you off his cock, your whine making him chuckle. He rests you on his thigh, barely making contact with it before starting to grind again.

He starts to undo the button on his pants, allowing his cock to spring free of the fabric. You stare at it, the need inside of you becoming so much stronger.

“If you don’t close your mouth, you’re going to start drooling,” he laughs, “maybe I should just leave you to look at it, see if you will drool.”

You whine, picking up the pace on his thigh, his pant leg coated in your arousal.

He grabs your hips again, placing you back on top of him, allowing you to line yourself up with his cock, slowly stretching yourself on him.

You gasp as he fills you up, and you go to start moving again, when you feel a ring of fire around your waist, keeping you in place.

He grabs your face, looking so smug you want to slap him, “aw, did my bunny think it’d be that easy? I still have work to finish. But if she’s good and waits patiently right here, I’ll let her have what she wants.”

You sigh, trying to just move your damn hips, but his fire is keeping you in place.

“Oh and one more thing,” he says, a ring of fire binding each of your hands to his shoulders, “no touching yourself either.”

He sits up a little straighter, making a big deal of pressing his cock further into you, reaching past you and grabbing his quill, picking up where he left off.

You’re not really sure how long it’s been when you hear Eris put the quill down, your head snapping straight up to look into his eyes, full of mischief and enjoyment.

You want to snarl at him.

He picks you up, letting you off of his cock, as he lays you down on the desk, all the letters still covering it.

“Now, for being a good little bunny, I’m going to fuck you right on top of all my correspondence,” his hands start moving up your sides, helping guide you to lay on top of the chaos of his desk. “Maybe your scent will coat the letters, and everyone will know how much of a needy little whore my mate is and they’ll understand the delay in communication.”

You moan at his words. He crawls on top of you, his hands trailing up your legs, his fingers caressing you, feeling how wet and needy you are.

He drags one of his fingers through your folds, your breath hitching in your throat as he brings the finger up to his mouth to taste you.

“Such a needy bunny,” he says, letting his cock drag across your folds, watching you shiver with need.

“Is this what you need?”

You nod your head, but he grabs your jaw, making you look at him, “Use your words.”

“Yes,” you say, keeping your eyes locked onto his.

“Good,” he says, as he slides himself into you again. Instead of staying in place like he had been for the past hour, he sets a quick pace with his thrusts.

He leans down to kiss you, his tongue licking your lips for entry. You let him in, the taste of your own arousal entering your mouth.

The sounds coming from you are utterly sinful, and his sounds are no purer. The fast pace, the sounds, his tongue in your mouth.

It’s too much for you, it’s too much for him, and you feel his warm seed fill you up, causing you to come undone.

You’re panting, trying to remember anything other than Eris, when he pulls himself out of you slowly, and starts inching his hand down to you, collecting all the semen that leaked out of you and was coating your folds.

“What are you doing?” You ask, trying to catch your breath.

“Well if you’re so needy, I want you to have every last drop.”

He plunges the fingers coated in him inside of you, starting with one, then adding a second.

“Maybe if I keep you fuller, it’ll keep you satiated for longer.”

You’re grinding down on his fingers as they work in and out of you. You’re bordering on overstimulation, when he begins biting your neck.

That causes you to come undone again, Eris smirking at you spasming around his fingers.

He kisses you gently as he pulls out his fingers and scoops you up so you’re curled in his lap as he sits back down in his chair, holding you close to him.

“Do you think,” you say, out of breath, “all the ink was dry when you laid me down?”

He laughs, looking at the desk where a few letters are smudged. “Not a chance.”

[storm-angel989]

hey could you do a Valentino x Daughter Reader where the Vees/Angel finds out that Reader has been starving herself and taking pills that make her lose weight?

Hi there,

So I did write one of these already (check out my master list!) but I wrote another version because you asked to include Angel Dust. Diet pills are another thing I have personal experience with, and I promise you they're not worth it. As hard as it is somedays, our bodies are worthy of love and respect always <3

<3 Mandy

Privacy had never really been a big deal to me. 

Growing up the tech overlord’s niece, I was acutely aware that anything and everything I brought, sent, typed, created, handed in was subject to scrutiny by my Uncle Vox. Not that he went out of his way to divulge into my personal life, but there had definitely been a few times I had been reminded of his power to keep tabs on me. 

It wasn’t until I started dieting to get more into shape for the upcoming school year that Vox’s constant monitoring became an issue. 

It started with the ballerina tea in September. Something my friends at school swore up and down would help me trim down before the holiday season. For the first time in my life, I heard whispers- too big, too small. Just right. Fashion presented in a way even my Aunt Velvette hadn’t shown me. As we thumbed through magazines, shifted through racks of clothes at the local mall, I slowly started to see my friend’s point, and everything my body wasn’t. 

Thoughtlessly, I clicked on the order now button and in minutes, my phone rang.

“Hey, kid. I canceled your order. You can’t drink that stuff, it will seriously mess up your gut,” my Uncle Vox’s voice came through on the line. 

I felt shame spread across my face. Not a single parental figure in my life had ever scolded me for what I wanted to put in my body. Hell, my Dad even let me have ice cream for breakfast one morning when my Mom was out of town. Why was my Uncle Vox even remotely paying attention to what I wanted to drink? Embarrassment. Did he not know just how flawed I was?

Somewhere inside, a little voice told me to keep quiet. 

“Reader? Did you hear me?” Vox’s voice repeated. 

“Ye-yeah, Uncle Vox, sorry,” I squeaked out. “I just…my friends at school they…”

“If your friends at school all jumped off a cliff, would you? I can make a doctor's appointment if you’d like and she can explain exactly what…”

“No, no, Uncle Vox. I’m good,” I replied quickly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight, kiddo.”

I hung up the phone in dismay as cracks in my fantasies began to form. How exactly was I supposed to be thinner if I was hitting a wall trying to use the resources available to me? How was I supposed to look like the models on the cover of Aunt Velvette’s magazines if I kept doing what I was doing? I needed help, but from where? 

My answer lay in the network of friends I had available to me. A quiet whisper- folded notes with paper currency passed in study hall returned with white powder filled capsules. 

Drink a glass of water and take one pill three times a day, the note back read. 

Instructions I could follow easily, and all it took was downing that first pill to get me absolutely hooked. I couldn’t pinpoint when I slowly started to cut back on what I ate, or when the little voice inside my head started to tell me I didn’t deserve food. That the number on the scale was the only thing that mattered and the faster the number went down, the happier the voice inside my head became. Beauty, numbers, purity took over my thoughts. 

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I decided that voice had a name. Ana. And she was my only friend in the entire world. 

Two months passed before my world came crashing down. 

“Hey babe, I know you’re on your way out the door, but meet me in my studio afterschool today, hm?” My fathers voice carried across the kitchen. 

I froze. On my normal day to day, I wasn’t allowed anywhere near my fathers business office- or studio, as he called it. I was well aware of what he was in the business of, but he did his best to keep me from it. Or at least, from the worst of it. 

“Why?” I asked, my back turned to him.

“You have a half day. Your Aunt and Uncle both have meetings, so you’ll be doing your homework in my office tonight,” he replied. “And I received several forms in the mail from the school. You need a physical before winter season begins, so we might as well get that done. And then I’ll take you out to lunch. It’s been awhile since we’ve spent time together.” 

The entire thing sounded like my current worst nightmare. I struggled to come up with the words to try to get out of it. 

“But I was going to go to…I have plans, I…”

“Bebita, whatever plans you have, consider them canceled. In my studio, by twelve. The limo will pick you up. That’s all.” Valentino finished. 

An overwhelming sense of dread washed over me. Ana’s voice grew louder, nonsense that I couldn’t discern. No matter how hard I tried,  I couldn’t see my way out of this. Anxiety flooded through me and I worried my way through the entire morning. In truth, I had planned on making up the extra steps I was losing by leaving early at the school gym before I went home. 

Just take an extra dose, Ana whispered. And double each dose, even. Make up for those extra steps missed, and the extra calories I was sure I would end up taking in. A sense of relief washed over me. Of course. Ana always knew what to do. 

I walked into my father’s studio, backpack slung over his shoulder. Noticeably empty was my father’s directors chair. On stage, Angel sat on the bed, wrapped in his pink red trimmed robe. I brightened up instantly. Angel was the only employee of my father’s I knew, the only one I had any sort of relationship with. 

“Hey sweetheart,” Angel said cheerfully. He stood up and walked over to me. “Yer Daddy said you were coming in, how’s school?”

I shrugged. “Fine. Where is Dad?” I glanced at the clock. Twelve thirty. I needed to duck out and take that fourth dose now if I wanted it to be effective. “I have a ton of homework and I want to get started.”

“In a meetin’, but you can use my dressing room,” he replied as he sashayed across the floor. 

I followed him and he pushed open the door, ushering me inside. 

“Trust me, your gonna wanna hang tight, Val- er, your Dad’s mood is gonna be good or bad dependin on how this meetin’ goes,” Angel told me. 

I settled myself on the couch and dug around in my backpack. Behind me, Angel took a seat at his vanity and picked up a brush. I seized the opportunity to unscrew my water bottle and pull out the plastic bag of pills. I had just swallowed the two capsule when a hand plucked the bag out of mine. 

Shit. 

“Hey, kid. Whatcha got there?” Angel asked as he held the bag up to his face. 

“Give those back, they’re mine!” I yelled as I jumped to my feet. “Angel, give them to me!” 

Angel ignored me and instead took the bag over to his vanity. I watched in dismay as he cracked open one of the clear capsules and inspected the contents. 

“How many of these did you take?” He asked.

Silence for a heartbeat. 

“Does your Dad know you’re taking these?” Was his next question.

“No, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him,” I growled. “Angel, give them back!”

He crossed his arms, plastic bag in hand. “Only if you tell me how many you’ve taken today,” he replied. 

“Four this morning. Four at ten. And I just took four. And I need to take another two tonight,” I replied sharply. “Now give them back.”

Surprise shot across his face. “You took twelve of them? Are you fuckin stupid?” He turned back to his desk and started to rummage through it. “Fucking stupid kids,” he muttered as he came up with a bright orange bottle. I watched as he poured the liquid into the cap. “Here, take this now or I’m goin right to Val,” he thrust the medication to me. “Now, or else. I mean it.” 

“Angel! I…”

“I said, now or I go pull your Daddy from his meetin and trust me, he’s gonna be pissed,” Angel shot back. 

I didn’t doubt any of that. Reluctantly, I took the cap and swallowed the contents. “There, now give me back my pills.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he replied. He reached out and grabbed my upper arm. “Come with me, otherwise you’re gonna puke all over my dressin room and I don’t think either of us wants that.”

“Angel!” I protested as he practically dragged me across the studio floor. “Angel where are we…” 

He shoved me into the nurses office and yelled to the lady at the front desk to page Valentino. Without waiting, he opened the bathroom door and shoved me inside. My anger turned to pain as my stomach cramped and I felt his hands pull my hair back as I emptied my belly of its contents. 

“That’a girl,” Angel muttered. “Yeah, get it all out.”

“Fuck you Angel, I’m fine,” I snarled. 

“Yeah, cause I make you puke. If I hadn’t, you’d have been dead in about twenty more minutes,” he replied. “Yer Dad’s on the way.” 

“Oh fuck you,” I snarled as the nurse came in. “I swear I…”

Whatever I was going to say stopped as a wave of dizziness hit me. I felt Angel help me kneel to the floor and laid me on my side. The feeling of hands on my chest, my fathers voice as my reality turned black. 

When I came to, I was sitting upright in a hospital bed. Wires attached to my chest and a plethora of monitors surrounded me. A tickle in my throat and I tried to cough as I raised my hand to itch my face. My fingers hit tape and plastic and I couldn’t Groggily, I strained to hear the noise on the other side of the door. 

“Val, I saw it in the mirror. She was sitting on the couch and she swallowed a few, but I got her to tell me how much she took. I had to make her puke or she woulda…” Angel’s desperate voice. 

“Where the fuck did she find that shit?” My father’s voice growled. “How the fuck did my daughter get ahold of that…Angel, just…” His tone shifted to frustration. Silence, and a sigh. “You did the right thing. Probably saved her. Just go, consider this shoot canceled and take the night. Go to the hotel or whatever it is you do, I need to handle this…situation.”

“Just, will ya lemme know when she wakes up?” Angel’s voice pleaded. “Val, if what she took was what I thought, she coulda died.”

“I know. And I will.” My father’s voice was softer. “Go.” 

Time passed and I felt myself slip in out of consciousness. I was vaguely aware of my father fussing, flashes of Angel, my Uncle Vox and Aunt Velvette. But for the most part I stayed asleep. At some point, the tickle in my throat vanished, but the needle in my arm stayed. It could have been a week, or maybe a day when I could I finally held myself awake long enough to hear what was going on. A few blinks, and I could make out my father’s figure standing next to my Aunt and Uncle at the base of the bed. 

“We’re lucky we caught it when we did, she’s lost some weight. Her bloodwork isn’t great, but it’s fixable. It’s more important now that she connects with a therapist and…” said an unfamiliar voice. 

“Daddy?” Even to me, my voice sounded scratchy. “Daddy?” 

Four heads turned to me. The Doctor walked over and began to check the monitors.

“Good to see you awake, baby girl,” my Uncle Vox said as he brushed away an invisible strand of hair. “How are you feeling?” 

“What happened?” I asked as my father sat on the side of the bed. “Why am I in the hospital?”

“Maybe you want to fill us in,” Velvette suggested. 

The doctor cleared his throat. “I would suggest waiting for the thera-”

“Leave us. This is a family matter for the time being,” my father commanded with the authority only an overlord of hell could have. 

I watched as he instantly turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him. My father turned his attention back to me. I hung my head and after a few moments of quiet, Valentino’s voice filled the air. 

“Let me break it down for you. Angel watched you- from the mirror- swallow two pills. You told him those were the twelfth ones you had taken that day. He, because he isn’t a dumbass and has probably taken them himself, recognizes them right away and forces ippapec down your throat. He gets you to the nurse and you vomit until you pass out. I show up, and we decide that your stomach needs to be pumped. Doc asks me how much you weigh and I realize that somehow, since September, you’ve lost about twenty seven pounds. Tell me, muñeca, how exactly does that happen?”

For the first time since this all began, Ana went silent. Without that voice to guide me, I swallowed back my nerves. 

“I went on a diet. I took diet pills, Dad. That’s what Angel got all mad about.”

“And rightly so,” Velvette interrupted. “All diet pills are dangerous, but the ones you took? They’re ten times as strong. Combined with skipping meals, they’ll wreck your body.”

“And don’t try to tell us you wern’t,” Vox added. “I reviewed the footage. We saw it all, honey.”

I looked down at the blanket. “So what happens now? Am I grounded?”

Silence from the three of them. I felt my fathers hand on mine and his finger tilted my chin up.

“I don’t think you quiet get the point. You almost died, honey. I…” 

I watched an expression I couldn’t quite read flit across his face. He took a deep breath before he continued. 

“Here is the plan. Now that you’re awake, you’re going to talk to a doctor. As soon as you get the all clear, you can go home. We can figure out where to go from then, but for now…for now honey, I’m just glad you’re alive.” 

I reached for him and my father folded me into his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I wasn’t trying to die, I…”

“Don’t be sorry. We’ll figure it out. I promise. I love you, mi amore,” he replied softly. “We all love you. We’ll get through this, I promise.”

[kenjo-arts]

Your AweSamDream art has given me so many brain worms how do you make your lines so thin and smooth??? Any time I try ultra thin lineart it always looks very... first time digital artist.

For me it was first i found a brush i liked and then I slowly just kept making it smaller or the canvas bigger. It's a gradual thing and I honestly don't really know what I do or don't do to make the lineart look good. I think maybe part of it is me doing alot of detailing?

I'll put some examples under the cut!

I don't know if these examples will help because I have no idea what im actually doing and can only guess based on what i think i might be doing æsldkjfælksd I colour my lineart which kinda hides(?) the mess a bit sometimes, smooths it out.

I think its important to note that my lineart isn't actually that smooth, it's kinda messy and sketchy alot because i don't put alot of details on my sketches (comparatively) and i dont follow the sketch perfectly when i line. my lineart would probably count as a detailed sketch for many. (the colouring helps alot!)

For an example c!dreams leather armour! in sketches or older arts its more flat where i draw more dimension to it now which also lets me add damage to the leather which i like doing because otherwise i end up feeling the lineart is "empty?" if theres too much space with no lines

I also paint on top of lineart when i don't like how it looked! (link to timelapse of this art)

In the second example i used a round brush for a new way i like with drawing hair! which is why as i wanted to use my favourite brush in this art, i made the lines so small so i could have more lines in the hair! as my favourite bush is fixed in a flat 20 degrees!

My sketches are generally pretty thick lined compared to what i end up lining so many times one line in the sketch becomes two lines in the lineart! i also draw pretty quickly which I'm happy with for the loser energy it gives the lineart (even tho colouring in the lineart can be a pain when i cant just select it all because of so many goddamn holes) But ultimately when you zoom in you can tell its not that smooth, its just smooth-sketchy but throughout it all which makes it conhesive! (i think) (maybe)

the fact c!dream is my own design i know basically on the back of my hand also helps! it means i can just slap it out without really thinking that hard about it because im so practiced ! (which is why i draw him alot lmaoooo) when i dont know a character as well i stuggle more with thinner lineart because i keep refrencing back instead of just doing what i want. when i draw new characters i usually start thicker and then slowly get thinner lines as i figure out how i want them to be drawn.

[water-to-drink]

Be a Gladiolus in a Field of Belladonnas pt10

Tree Hugger

(Summary): After narrowly escaping detection from the Natlan army it seems that the one from before has caught up with you and company

Part 1 Last Part Next Part

✧ Masterlist ✧

(Characters): Traveler!Lumine, Paimon, Abyss Prince!Aether, Childe, and ???

(Tags/Warnings): gn!reader, potentially bad fight scene, potentially ooc, potential inaccurate descriptions of Natlan, (lmk if I missed anything)

(Word Count): 2.1k

You ran until the layer of snow became thinner and the crunch beneath your shoes resonated less and less. of a heatwave. You ran until the sun that was once rising now sets and paints the sky with a beautiful mixture of red, orange, and purple. You ran despite your feet hurting beyond belief, but the adrenaline kept you pushing forward. You ran despite your lungs burning hotter and a summer day in the midst

Your feet become heavy and your movements became almost sluggish, it seems that Lumine has noticed this

Lumine looks over her shoulder towards you but you see her looking over you and her eyes widen in horror. You look in the same direction and your heart dropped. Just far into the distance you spotted the same jaguar like mask you saw back in Snezhnaya coming at you full speed

“Guys, someone’s found us!” Lumine yelled as she quickly pushed you behind her and summoned her sword

Your assailant summons their weapon, a long wooden claymore lined with pieces of sharp obsidian blades. They swung it at the traveler who expertly dodged the attacks. When Lumine swings her sword the masked individual blocks it with a shield decorated with colorful feathers. They lift up their club to strike Lumine but Aether comes in and stops the attack

The two fall into a familiar rhythm of fighting the attacker and covering the other, Lumine making swings with her right hand whilst Aether does the same with his left hand

The assailant takes out a cord with 3 balls tied to the ends of it and they swing it above their head before throwing it. The string entangles itself around Lumine’s ankles making her fall to the ground. Aether looks at Lumine to ensure she’s okay

“Aether watch out!” Lumine warns

The prince turns around to see their attacker about to deal a blow, but they put up their shield to block the hydro infused arrows, however some water splashes onto them

Seeing the opportunity Aether throws a few lightning strikes towards the assailant to stun them

Childe uses his hydro vision to make a pair of blades and charges at them. Still in a daze the attacker couldn’t react in time to block the slices dealt by the ginger

Lumine finally was able to untangle herself from the bolas

“Childe get down!” Lumine warned and she blasted a large cryo attack at the assailant, freezing them in place

Finally getting their bearings the masked individual puts their hands up in defeat. “I admit defeat, I expected nothing less from the three of you.” They finally spoke

“Who are you?” Aether said while pointing his sword at their neck

Their hands slowly make their way behind their head to remove the mask from their face. You spot two rounded ears covered in a rosette pattern, yellow eyes with slits in the pupils, and short reddish hair

“Oh my god!” You shouted out in surprise. “Wait, who are you?”

“I’m the high priestess in Natlan, Chimalma, I aid the mighty warriors in various thing, but that’s a topic for some other time.” Chimalma introduced herself

“Why should we trust you, for all we know you could have alerted your forces about us.” Aether asked still untrusting of the supposed high priestess

“I know what happened between you and the Raiden Shogun, her seeing your golden blood.” They stated matter of factly. “I also know that the Fatui has been searching for these ‘primogems’, but you haven’t had any luck finding more.”

“How do you know that?!” Lumine asked as she and Childe got in front of you ready to protect you in a moment’s notice

“I don’t mean to bring harm to their Grace, we only wish to help you on your journey.”

“Wait, ‘we?’ Who else is with you?” You asked

“Chimalma wouldn’t have known about your situation if a little birdie hadn’t told her.” A voice replied, you turned your head to see the iconic long pink hair with pink ears drooping because of heavy gold earrings with purple gems, one earring holding an electro vision

“Yae?!” You, Lumine, and Paimon shouted in unison

“Why hello your Grace.” The Guji greeted

“Wh-why are you here?! And how did you know that I’m not the imposter?!”

“Well the Shogun puppet came to the shrine one day and told me about the incident, she even told me about despite Ei seeing your blood but she was forced to raise her blade against you.” You saw Yae’s usual playful expression uncharacteristically turn into one of pain. “I apologize for our little priestess’ brash behavior earlier, I will deal with them later.”

“Wait, I understand where she learned the incident with Ei but how did she learn about the Fatui?!”

“It’s simple,” Chimalma said as she raised her hand out and a blue hummingbird flew over and perched itself her hand. “I had spies watching.”

“Birds talk here?!” You gasped in shock

“They do but only a chosen few can understand them. Soon you’ll understand them.”

“We need to head out soon, it’s getting late and do something about your clothes.” Yae looks over her shoulder and made a little gesture with her hand, a decent sided wooden carriage pulled by animals you don’t recognize and two men dressed in what you assumed to be Natlan clothing come out of the carriage. The twin instantly get in front of you at the sight of the men, sensing your nervousness they give Yae the box and kneel down before you

“Just as Lady Chimalma said, we don’t mean to bring you any harm.” One stated

“We would rather see that our end is met by your hands if you see us as untrustworthy .” The other continued

“No, you’re good. I’m not killing anyone except my doppelganger.” You reassured them

“Natlan warriors are an intense bunch.” Yae said as she walks towards you with the wooden box. “I know it’s not much but it’s all that we could find in such a short period.” Yae opens the box to reveal 7 Primogems

You take the gems and they disappear into a glittery blue dust very reminiscent of a nebula in space. You felt a tiny bit of power course through your arm and up to your chest causing an involuntary shiver racks through your body

“Whoa, I actually felt something this time.” You chuckled

“That’s good to hear, but I know a more effective method to getting your old powers back.”

“Really? What is it?” Paimon asked

“We need to go to Natlan for that.” Chimalma said as she melted the ice trapping her feet in place

“Don’t worry, little one. I will ensure your safety.” Yae said putting her hand on your shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. “However, before we enter Natlan’s boarder’s you all need to change into something less eye catching.” Yae said gesturing to your clothes

The Guji snapped her fingers and the two men go back into the carriage and bring out various clothing items, they present them to you and company

“You have to change out of your clothes to avoid suspicion.” Yae advised

You and the others quickly put on the disguises which consisted of a thick cloth shirt, leggings with a rosette pattern similar to the one that Chimalma has on her ears, and a wooden helmet carved in the shape of a bird, but you were told that could be put on later when in Natlan. Now you resembled the two men clothing wise, you all were ushered into the carriage and settled in. There was only enough room for you and Miko to sit on one side while the others sat right in front of you. The carriage began to make the long journey from Snezhnaya to Natlan, maybe the fact that you were finally stationary in hours because you found yourself dozing off and you almost rested your head on Yae’s shoulder

“You look tired, my dear. Why don’t you rest a little for now.” Yae smiled as she patted her thighs inviting you to lay your head on them

“Oh! A-are you sure, don’t want to impose…” You stuttered out as heat rushes to your face

“Nonsense, you need all the rest you can get, remember you have a long journey ahead of you.”

“If you say so.” You said and laid your head down in her lap. Yae’s lap felt like heaven, you don’t know if it’s due to the fact that you’ve slept in a cave and spent the whole day running but her thighs were spiritually healing. You were so preoccupied with the comfort you were experiencing you completely missed the death glares thrown at Yae, who in turn smirked triumphantly

The next thing you feel is Yae gently shaking you awake, you sat up and in your groggy state you looked around and remembered where you are.

“We’re here.” Chimalma said as you all got out of the carriage and looked at the beautiful landscape. “Welcome to the nation of pyro, Natlan.”

“How did we get here that fast?” You asked in amazement

“It’s a secret~” Yae said holding her finger in front of her smirking lips

You look around to see reddish orange mountains with various paintings on them. A tap on your shoulder brings your attention towards Yae

“It isn’t safe to be out there for too long without your mask.”

You put on the wooden helmet and followed Yae and Chimalma who lead you and company to a tree with parts of its bark a glowing shade of blue

You see the two hybrids looking at you and the tree expectantly

“Ohh! Uhh, how do I ‘resonate’ with the tree?” You asked

“The same way our dear traveler resonates with the statues of the seven, by touching them.” Yae answered

You hesitantly extends your hands and rest your finger tips on the tree. After a while your tense shoulders slowly relax and you press your palms on the bark. The moment you spot the blue parts of the tree start glowing brighter than before you instantly withdrew your hands. The soft giggles from Yae drew your attention towards the Guji, she takes your hands and leads them back to the tree

“Relax, just concentrate on connecting with the tree.”

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, focusing on the tree you feel power and warmth course through you. You take your hands off the tree and open your eyes to see the blue parts glowing brightly

“So how do you feel?” Lumine asked

“That was intense, but other than that I feel the same.” You replied

“Summon some fire!” Chimalma urged

You hesitantly held out your dominant hand and imagined a flame coming out from your hand and once the image comes into your mind a decently sized fire envelopes your hand. Surprisingly the flame doesn’t hurt you and after a while the flame dies down into nothing

“Whoa, so the way for their Grace to regain their powers is to touch these trees, kinda like Lumine with the statues of the seven?” Paimon asked as she rubbed her chin

“Very intuitive little one, as to why it works for the Ley Lines instead of the statues I do not know.” Yae explains

You spot Aether wanting to say something but stopping himself from doing so, you stopped yourself from prying so to not make the situation awkward

“Now that we’re done here, let’s go time is of the essence.” Yae begins to walk away from the tree

“Wait before you go,” Chimalma said as she knelt down before you. “take this sword with you.” You took the sword and take it out of its sheath to examine it, a brown hilt leading to a blade with similar blue stripes as the tree you just resonated with

“Why are you giving their Grace a sword?! They have us to protect them!” Aether stated also offended at the implication that he and Lumine aren’t enough to protect you

“You never know and besides it’ll help jog up some memories.”

“I think you’re mistaken, I’ve never held a sword like this before.” You said

“Maybe in this life, but in your old life definitely. Everything that the old pyro archon knew, you taught it to them.”

You held the sword and felt something stir inside you and put it back in its sheath

“I’ll hold you to that statement.” You said

“I promise it’ll come in handy.”

You waved Chimalma goodbye and walk back to the carriage. Mentally preparing yourself for your next destination

The land of electro, Inazuma

Taglist:

@chuuya-brainrot @creation-magician @tartarsaucechi1de @vvyeislazzy @kokomisimpppp @aludicpoet @undecidingfate @annoying-mary @randomnatics @ventixthexanemoxarchon @bore2808 @lizzhearthz @ bidisasterforevermore @dxprived4-starboys @angstylittleb1tch @esthelily @yurivision @angelamelamela @d4y-dr3am3r @blackcoffex @not-the-shroom @raffaelo4ka @rebeccawinters @lhaol @artwitchh @imyme20 @nymphsdomain @sun7flowxr @itz-luna @flowerypesky @ghost-mint @mmmhyperfixation @legendaryexperthideout @lapinaenmicoche @sinsdumbdrabble @land-of-eternity @deathcvltcivilofficial

[chobani-flip]

@bucktommypositivityweek

prompt: what they love most about each other (yeah, idk... i just realised that this was happening like an hour ago? i was wondering why so many fics had a similar theme today... oh well... im not sure what this is, but it definitely is. enjoy?)

--

so there's this line that buck heard at a wedding once. it was while he was working as a bartender in peru, and this american couple who'd met in the bar he worked at during his shift decided to get married there.

and Sex-on-the-Beach-Easy-On-The-Cranberry-Juice said to Dark-And-Stormy: "how do i love thee, let me count the ways"

which made buck look up from where he'd been mixing up a margarita because: thee? really? but then Sex-on-the-Beach-Easy-On-The-Cranberry-Juice went on to list a truly ridiculous list of attributes which made buck sigh a little wistfully and wonder what it was like to have someone to love like that.

(who'd love you back)

he thought he'd found it with abby, but well...

and with taylor he sometimes lay awake at night rolling the words over on his tongue like bobby taught him you should do with wine, to actually have a chance at tasting some of the insane things the labels promise. but back then how do i love thee, let me count the ways always left a vague fuzziness all over his mouth, all grippy tannin.

(they weren't right for each other, buck knew that now. maybe they could have worked if they'd met sooner, or later, but not then.)

"evan?"

"hmmm?"

"the seatbelt?"

oh. slowly, buck blinked at tommy through the warm cabin light. he'd had just the mai tai at the bar, but it'd been a while since he'd had anything besides an occassional beer and he could feel the alcohol hitting him more than usual.

it made the interior of tommy's car blur just a little as he turned his head to reach for the seatbelt. it made him grin wide and stupid into tommy's lovely face as he smiled his crow's feet smile with his eyes and turned the key in the ignition.

a single sure turn of the wrist. buck loved tommy's hands. big. wide. and big. and the bone, the one that stuck out a little at the wrist. the one that hen smacked him for laughing at it for the hundredth time when he was helping her learn anatomy with flashcards. pisiform bone. buck loved it too.

"you ok?" "i like your hands"

they didn't speak at once, but tommy had barely finished his question when buck began his confession so it was very nearly the same thing. tommy threw his own hand a slightly bemused look before reaching for the gearshift and changing gear.

because tommy drove manual. buck loved to watch the muscles of his legs contract and release in perfect synchronicity as he released the clutch and stepped on the gas.

he wore jeans tonight for their meet-up with hen and karen. buck loved how they fit around his thighs, made him kinda wanna bite them.

and then move up and taste his hipbones again, and bury his nose in the hair at the base of tommy's cock and suck at the sensitive skin of his balls and-

"evan, you know i love to hear you talk but i really need you to shut up now. im glad you like how tight my jeans are but they're really fucking tight."

buck blinked a little faster at being brought back from his daydream, licked his dry lips and realized the sudden absence of sound vibrating his vocal cords.

huh.

tommy was throwing him little looks in between checking the side mirrors, smiling, maybe a little bit in disbelief. buck loved the way his upper lip grew thinner the wider he smiled. he also loved to bite on the fuller bottom lip.

how do i love thee, let me count the ways

buck bit his own lip to keep from grinning and, with the aftertaste of rum and sugar smooth at the back of his throat, went on with his list.

[bridgyrose]

RWBY girls do a caber toss, somehow Weiss wins.

(So, for the record: there are multiple events with caber tossing, so I chose to do something for distance. As well, cabers are usually between 100 to 180 lbs. This ended up being a lot more research than I expected.)

“And why are we doing this again?” Blake asked as she looked at the cabers lined up in front of everyone. 

Ruby sighed and glanced over to Yang. “As Yang put it, its the best way to tell which one of us is the strongest. She has a lot of strength, but most of it comes from her semblance. You can swing her around like she’s just a toy, I can swing Crescent Rose around like it weighs nothing… so we have to do something that puts us all on equal footing.” 

“Well I still dont see how this is equal footing,” Weiss said with a huff. Of all the members of her team, she was by far the weakest in arm strength. Not to say she couldnt lift anything, but she certainly couldnt lift as much as the rest. “I can barely lift one.” 

Yang rubbed the back of her head. “You’re here as more of a… baseline for the rest of us.” 

“A baseline,” Weiss said flatly. 

“You know, as a way to measure the rest of us by allowing us to see what would be considered average.” 

“Average?! Nothing about me is average!” 

“I dont mean it as an insult,” Yang answered back. “Just… I mean, I’d ask Jaune to do it, but since he’s been training with Pyrrha, he’s gotten as strong as her. Ren’s out of the question because he refused. Nora… Nora makes something like this look like child’s play. You’re the only one left we can use.” 

Weiss rolled her eyes and looked at Yang’s mechanical arm. “I still dont see why I should bother with this. Besides, your arm gives you an advantage at this.” 

“My arm is calibrated to be the same as my real one, but you dont have to participate.” Yang stepped up to her caber and lifted it, grunting. “You can just watch!” 

Weiss sighed as she watched the caber launch into the air and fall to the ground, landing nearly thirty feet away before falling over. She then watched Blake and Ruby as they tossed theirs, going nearly as far but still falling short. Blake only managed to get it out twenty five feet, while Ruby managed to get it closer to Yang. 

She took a deep breath as she stepped up to the caber she had chosen: one that was thinner than the others. She picked it up with a bit of a struggle, balancing it against her shoulders as she stared out towards the field. There was nothing in the rules her team set that said semblances couldnt be used. And if they were going to throw her into something like this against her wishes, then she’d have to put them in her place.

Weiss slowly squatted down as she readied herself, focusing on the caber that Yang had thrown. A pair of glyphs formed in her hands just as she willed it, keeping them hidden under the caber as she launched the caber with a hefty heave. 

The caber landed with a *thud* much further than Yang’s had gone. Weiss let out the breath she hadnt realized she was holding and gave a smile as the glyphs disappeared from her hands. “That was easier than expected.” 

Yang could only stare at the caber that Weiss had tossed. “How did you…” 

“I already told you, I’m not average.” Weiss turned to walk away. “I may not be perfect, but I refuse to let anyone beat me. That includes something as… barbaric… as this.” 

“But you’re not that…” Yang sighed and shook her head and went to grab another caber to toss. “I’m sure it was just a fluke.” 

Weiss could only smile as she continued away from the field, speaking under her breath. “Maybe that’ll keep them from including me in these again.”

[bealuminara]

Faded Lines

Simon Riley x Reader

Yn, the billionaire heiress trapped in a life she never chose, craves freedom—not love. Ghost, the ruthless mafia. Both needs something, which they cannot get. She believes in forever. He believes in momentary. In a world of power, danger, and secrets—will love find a way, or will they walk away before it begins?

Chapter 1

Yn

It was early spring. The cold breeze passed gently through the old tree. The swing hung lazily and swung slightly due to the wind. Birds chirping filled my room. I wished I could just fly like them. The air was filled with a strong scent of soft musk of trees, laced with the scent of the earth. It was peaceful. But inside my house was quite the opposite. A baby's angry cries with someone shouting about something. Clattering of glass followed but a slam of door. And suddenly everything stopped. All I could hear is the birds chirping.

I could feel my mother's stare. "Honey, I brought you some herbal tea. It's good for your skin, and specifically-" she continued. I had a feeling. Nowadays all my mother cared about was how I looked, smelt, sat, walked and so on. I am exhausted. I gave her a smile which did not even touch my eyes.

Today was the day, I was scared of. "Day of selection". I was given a month to choose a suitor for me- a suitable husband and man to take care of my father's property. I did not want to get married, at least not now. One thing that I learnt in years is that, my parents loved property, money, and power. I did not find a guy and now I am forced to choose between men, who only like me because of the money I come with. I really wished my prince charming would come and rescue me. Whenever I thought of prince charming, this specific person would pop up in my mind. A teen boy, I don't remember how he looks, or if he is even alive but I would love to meet him. He was my childhood crush. A simple fantasy that i probably had when I was in my teens, unbeknownst to how the real world goes. Poor me, I was never given a chance to choose. I always did what my parents asked me to. And now I regret every bit of it.

It was 6 pm. The corset hugged my chest and waist a little too tight. I could not breathe but it did not actually matter. The tighter the corset the thinner you look. Which also meant there will be eyes on my cleavage. It was disgusting. My mother made me do so much, just for this night.

There is a ball, more like a selection. I will have to choose a person, with whom I will have to spend the rest of my life with. And all I will be given is 3 hours. I am not a princess but I had power because of my father. My father, William Ford, has a lot of estates. I do not even properly know the exact number, money never really excited me. I preferred having a decent job and live a happy life, a free life, without constantly thinking about who will inherit my property. My father had an arranged marriage with my mother, Grace Brooks. It was suffocating, the thought of marrying a literal stranger. I wish I could escape. But my legs are chained. Well fate cannot be changed, can it?

As I entered the grand hall, the room was shimmered under the golden glow of the overhead golden chandelier. Bright but comforting golden rays filled the room. Dark red and white curtains draped down beside the large windows. The room was filled with men and women, in their most expensive clothes. Hands full of costly jewelry and watches which shone under the chandeliers' light.

The chaos came to pause and every single eye was on me. I smiled softly but I was choked with people's stare. Some men looked at me as if, I was a lottery. Maybe I was. After all no one came here to look for their future wife, they came here to inherit someone else's property. I slowly walked through the crowd, as no one approached me. But within a few seconds of me walking through the crowd, an unknown man started approaching me. After the umpteenth number of men dancing and talking with me, I had had enough. I was tired and a little fresh air could help. I was pretty sure no one would notice if I slipped away for a minute or two anyway.

As I stand by the railing, the soft air passes through my hair locks. I could breathe again. I wanted to sleep already, not that I have a choice. The full moon illuminated the outside. I let out a sigh. It was so peaceful, away from the chaos of the hall. It was kind of cold and I shivered.

Suddenly I felt a heavy coat over my shoulder. I gasped and turned around. Only to meet with a pair of dark brown eyes. He had slightly tousled brown hair, with a strong chiseled jawline, followed by cheekbone, gave him a sculpted appearance. He was attractive. He held a sharp gaze with me. He was slightly tanned. His masculine figure could be understood even when he was wearing a shirt. He was very close to me but I could smell his cologne. He smelt like scandalwood with a slight hint of cigar. He was addictive. Damn I could not stop staring and he understood that. He rough clearing of throat brought me back to reality.

"Um, sorry. I am alright, you can take your blazer. It's not that cold, I mean it is but, yeah." I was just muttering nonsense. I looked at him for any sort of answer. But he stared at me, shaked his and walked away, leaving me there. I did hear nor did I know his name. I wished I did not just embarrass myself like that. I found myself wanting to talk to him and I had to return his blazer anyway. I will find his name in the guest register later, but now I needed some rest. The ball was long forgotten. I knew I would have to listen to my father's disappointed speech later but I could not care less. But one thing was for sure, this unknown man would not be leaving my mind anytime soon.

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Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!

-Bea