#Adventures in Light Distortion | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingsbychlo · 7 months ago

Text

LOSE YOUR INHIBITIONS

mattheo riddle & theodore nott | 8.1k

your boyfriend thought it would be fun to play a game of hide and seek only knowing one another's costumes. neither of you anticipated the mix-up of someone else wearing the same mask, or the thrilling events that follow.

note: happy hallowe'en, angels! you knew me and @theostrophywife would never leave you hanging on this special day, right? enjoy xo

Accepting the shot presented to you at the door, Fred Weasley delivered the vial with a charming grin. With a flick of his wrist, the door to the Gryffindor common room opened, letting the sounds of the party spill out from within. It was raging already, though this was no surprise, as the parties the twins threw had always been legendary.

Swirling the sparkling liquid around inside the tube, it flickered in iridescent shades as the flashing lights from within rippled through it, and a smirk tugged on your painted lips. It smelled like sugared cherries and vanilla, a mouthwatering and tempting combination. Bringing it to your lips, you let the flavour wash over you, like silk as it ran down your throat dangerously smoothly.

This party had been all anyone could talk about for the past two weeks, since the infamous Weasley pair had finally revealed the theme for this year's Hallowe’en bash. A masquerade party, hence the broken doll makeup that covered the right side of your face, but that hadn't been enough to satisfy the pair. No, rather than stop there, they’d gone on to craft themselves a potion of their own imagining, one that began to leave the edges of your vision blurring in a perfect kind of haze, and you placed the empty tube back down onto the tray in his hand.

“How’s it feel?” Fred grinned, red hair shining under the low lights as you blinked away the fuzziness in the edges of your vision. It was then, as you stared a moment longer, that the recognition of a face you’d known for almost a decade slipped your mind entirely.

“Oh… wow.”

“Recognise me?” He chuckled, handing a couple of vials to a group of giggling girls who passed you by, none of whom you now found you could place the identity of. Even the timbre of his voice sounded distorted and different as you processed it, knowing what he normally sounded like.

“I only know it’s you because… well, because we've been talking. I have no idea who just walked past.” You murmured, a pleasant tingling spreading through your body, slipping away any anxieties and worries. Only warmth and excitement were left in its wake.

“Didn’t we tell you to arrive with your friends, hm? Good luck finding anyone in there.” Fred tutted teasingly, motioning for you to go inside, and you hummed your acknowledgement as you walked into the party.

The floors vibrated under your feet, making you wonder just how many other students they’d had to coerce into helping cast the charms keeping this party a secret from the professors. Enchanted lights refracted and bounced around the expanded common room space, changing colours and leaving patterns streaking the darkened atmosphere.

Upon entering the main room, the heavy base of the music shook you so hard it rocked all the way up into your stomach with every step you took, and bodies filled every space in the room. Dancing, talking, laughing, playing games, drinking. They’d thought of it all, and you made your way slowly over to the drinks table to fill yourself up a cup with the spiced elf wine you were so fond of this time of year.

Some people milled around in groups, clinging to those whose identities they knew, while others boldly adventured and mingled in the freedom of anonymity. With a cursory glance across the crowds, all of the faces and voices around you blurred away before you could properly identify them. People you’d known for years were strangers to you for the night, and the spike of adrenaline it caused felt light lightning.

With a twist in your stomach, and another gulp of wine, the music beat as your feet guided you through the throngs of people, beginning the search for a familiar mask.

Mattheo hadn't told you when he’d arrive, only that it would be after you.

Originally planning to arrive together, your boyfriend had thought it all the more amusing to turn the night into a thrilling game for the pair of you. You were only given the knowledge of what his mask looked like; something he’d picked up at a Muggle costume store to ensure nobody else would be wearing the same thing.

The black and white details were burned into your mind, and yet, every face you passed wasn’t what you were looking for. After completing your first lap of the party, you’d found yourself situated in a new corner. With a heady mixture of wine and adrenaline buzzing through your bloodstream, you tapped your fingers against your thigh in anticipation.

The second lap you took of the room resulted in much the same way. Though, this time, it had certainly taken longer. The dance floor had long since been overflowed, the groups, couples and solo dancers for the night had spilt out to fill almost half of the room. Grinding, swaying, twirling, you’d become caught up with different people at least three times, as the atmosphere of the party swept you away. Laughing, flushed cheeks, you finally stumbled from the masses and back into the rest of the room.

More people had arrived since you had first started the hunt of your game, and you had no doubt now that he was in here somewhere, waiting for you to find him. No mask fit, no costume was right, and you’d done almost three laps of the room before you spotted him.

Hours had melted by, you were sure of it, but suddenly it all felt like nothing as you spotted the masked man standing across the room.

Tall, dressed impeccably in all black, and breathing out smoke from under the edge of the mask as he passed a cigarette around the group of boys he was standing with. His head tipped back as he laughed, and as you saw the mask you had memorised, you were sure of it.

Slipping over, you made sure to skirt around the edges of the group, delighting in the squeal you involuntarily let loose when his head turned in your direction. Though you couldn't see his eyes beneath the mask, you could feel his sights locked onto your own, and for a moment, it felt like the breath was trapped in your lungs.

Tall, imposing, terrifying. You bit your lip, waving your fingers at him, and watching his lips twist into a smirk, before he was handing off the cigarette in his hands, and waving back. Crooking a finger to beckon him closer, those long legs carried him until he stood before you, the smell of smoke and spiced whiskey rolling off of him and covering your senses.

“Well, hello there.” You whispered, hands reaching out to settle on his arms as you took a small step forward. Trailing your hands along his sleeves, your fingers brushed against the embroidery on his cuff, and your smile widened at confirmation under your fingertips of the sewing you’d put there.

“Hello, doll.” He mused, humoured by his own joke, and you rolled your eyes gently, taking his hands in your own, and tugging him towards the dance floor.

“Come on, I’ve been waiting all evening to dance.”

“Have you now?” He rolled his lower lip through his teeth, watching your hips move as you led him to a space you’d be able to occupy enough to move amongst the bodies. “And what have you been waiting for?”

“The right partner, of course.” Happy with the spot you’d found, you looped your arms around his neck, stepping into your boyfriend’s space a lot more, and his hands slid down your sides to settle on your hips. “Glad I finally found you.”

“Found me, indeed.” He mumbled, his forehead coming down to rest on your own, and a happy sigh slipped from your lips. You couldn't see much beyond the black-out eyes of the mask, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t need to, instead, you turned your back to him and pressed yourself into his chest, pulling his arms around you in the same way you always did.

Swaying together in harmony, your head rolled back to sit on his shoulder, the words to the songs happily flowing from your lips as your hips ground against your boyfriend’s. Hands wandered, weak groans and ghosts of his breath along your neck were exchanged for your giggles.

Where one game ended, a new one arose, a game of push and pull as you danced together. Pressing your arse back into his crotch, he returned the force, the outline of him pressing through his jeans to display his interest, and his arms tightened around you.

“You’re confident, hm?” He teased, both hands dropping to your thighs, nails skating over your skin in a new and delicious way that made you shiver. When he reached the edge of your dress, his fingertips barely dipped below, before opting to toy with the fabric instead and slip away.

“You love it.” Came your response, guiding one of his hands a little further up your body, skimming it over your breast tantalisingly before bringing your joined hands up, raised in the air to sway to the song. His laughter was warm and contagious, and time seemed to melt away once again as you sank into his embrace.

At some point, he had tugged up the edge of his mask, his mouth descending upon your neck to kiss and lick and bite, drawing moans and whimpers from your lips. When dancing had grown tiresome for you both, you’d slipped back to the drinks table, laughing your way through a shot of Gigglewater each, before finding your way to one of the more secluded couches in the darker corners of the room.

Now, your mouth was on his neck, marking his skin with red lipstick prints as one of his hands continued to grip your hips, allowing you to roll your core ever so slowly over the growing bulge in the front of his jeans. His other hand was splayed across one of your breasts, squeezing slowly as he panted, pulse racing under your lips.

“(Y/n)?” A voice broke you from your reverie, and you nibbled on the sweet spot on his neck.

“Yeah, Matty?” You whispered, believing the call to have come from the man underneath you. However, when he stiffened, so suddenly and harshly it was like he’d turned to stone, you pulled back. Your brows furrowed, you couldn't see what was wrong with his mask on, and you were reaching to remove it when you became aware of the other figure, standing behind the couch.

With a gasp as you observed his almost identical attire, your heart felt for a moment like it stopped beating. In what you were sure would’ve looked almost comical in any other situation, you looked dumbly between the two matching masks.

A soberingly cold bolt of shock sliced through you as you looked up, finding another tall, impeccably-clad man in all black standing behind the couch on which you were currently straddling Mattheo on. Or, thought you were, but now, as you took in the identical mask on his face, doubt began to creep in. The second man crossed his arms, legs widening in eerily familiar body language.

A sick feeling twisted in your stomach as you pulled back, pushing the man beneath you away by his shoulders. His neck was shining from the hickeys you had been enthusiastically marking his neck with. No matter how hard you tried, however, you couldn't place the features of either, recognition dancing just out of reach within your mind, and you let slip a frustrated growl.

“Matty?” You whispered, and the man underneath you somehow stiffened further, a feat you’d thought impossible, as the one standing squared his shoulders and seemed to grow angrier through stance alone.

“That would be me, sweetheart.” The one standing ground out through his teeth, voice so cold it made you feel like the temperature in the room had dropped. Springing up from the couch, you shook your head, feeling as though the whole world had just been tipped upside down. You had no chance to process it, as the intruder voiced the question also on your mind, “What the fuck is going on?”

“I found you! I found the mask!” An uncomfortable feeling raced through your body, heart pounding in your chest. As you rubbed at the place it thumped so hard, trying to escape, he seemed to soften a little. “I was so sure! Fuck, this stupid game—”

The flashing lights were too much, the noise and the people and the complete lack of awareness were all too much, and you stumbled for the exit. The moment you were out of the party and alone in the corridors, it was like you could breathe again. Gasping cold breaths into your lungs, you found yourself in silence, the charms working perfectly to contain the secrecy of the party, the only noise was your heaving breaths and the sound of your heart pumping.

Pressing your back into the cool stone of the wall, you tugged off the mask on your face, shaky fingers dropping it to the ground as the balls of your hands pressed to your eyes, just trying to think.

Then, like a whoosh of warmth and a burst in the tranquillity of the corridor, a body slammed into the stone beside you, a groan slipping free as the breath left his lungs. The mask was still on his face, covering his identity, not that you’d be able to tell who it was even if it was gone, but you could recognise Mattheo by default now. He’d taken off his mask, his features swimming just outside of your consciousness like in a dream, but those flattened curls, and the chain around his neck, it was no doubt.

“Someone better start explaining what the fuck is going on.” Mattheo hissed, brown eyes growing a little more familiar the longer you looked at them, filled with both rage and vulnerability.

“I-I was so sure, Matty! I checked the sleeve and everything, I’m sorry.” The man whom you now knew to be your boyfriend was wearing a black t-shirt only, and you fumbled for the stranger’s sleeve, tugging the left one forward and tracing your finger over the embroidered initials that you had sewn into every shirt, jumper and tee he owned.

Mattheo gripped the stranger's wrist in a far tighter hold than you had, yanking him forward to inspect the markings on the sleeve, and silent confusion settled between the three of you. Seconds ticked past in what felt more like hours, and then, Mattheo groaned in frustration, dropping the man’s wrist and raking his hand through his curls instead. He turned, kicking the wall on the opposite side of the corridor.

“Fucking potion, I don’t even know who the fuck you are! You’ve got my sweater, I mean, what is this, a set-up?” With a swing, his open palm slammed down on the rock on the side of the stranger’s head, Mattheo’s unfamiliar features close enough to the stranger that he’d smell the whiskey on your boyfriend’s breath. “What to do with you now, huh? When I kick the shit out of you for kissing my girlfriend, I want to know exactly who I’m hitting.”

“I’ll tell you.” The stranger croaked, and Mattheo let out a dry laugh as he backed away.

“And I’m supposed to just trust you, huh?”

You swallowed thickly, fingers gripping your ribs as your arms wrapped around yourself, unprepared for the answer, whether it was the truth or not. More silence ticked by, so many moments that your skin pebbled with goosebumps in the chill, and you rubbed your arms for warmth in the cold castle corridors.

Eventually, the stranger balled his shaking hands, and cursed under his breath in a language you recognised immediately. Italian. Your next inhale caught painfully in your throat as realisation struck before he’d even begun to speak. “I’m sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean for this or happen. I—”

Shoes scuffled against the floor, and then Mattheo had him by the collar of his sweater, backed to the wall once again as his fist reared back for the swing—

“It’s Theo!”

Mattheo’s punch halted, the impact of stopping so suddenly rippling along his body, and his tension faltered. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?” He implored, tugging off his mask at last, to reveal the same blurred, dreamlike features, but a recognisable head of golden-brown hair. “I can explain, I swear. Can you just put your fist down for a second?”

Reaching out, he placed a hand over Mattheo’s, lowering it slowly, and you crept forward to wrap your own hands around Mattheo’s, sliding his fist open to slip your fingers between his. He squeezed back fiercely, angrily. But, then, he lifted your hand up to his mouth, and kissed the back of your hand in a gesture you knew so well, all while glaring at ‘Theo’.

“Look, I didn’t have a costume. It’s stupid, I wasn’t planning on coming to the party at all, but I changed my mind.” With another nervous breath, you rubbed your thumb over Mattheo’s, feeling him tense and release over and over again as bursts of anger shot through him. “You were in the shower and your mask was hanging on the back of the door, so I just used a Geminio on yours. I grabbed the first pair of black jeans and a sweater I could find, I didn’t think you’d mind, we share clothes all the time! I’m sorry.”

Mattheo took a deep breath and another. And another.

His head tipped back to stare at the ceiling, and blue eyes that ticked at being familiar found yours, “I’m sorry, bella. I didn’t mean for all this to happen. I figured you two would show up together, and…”

“It was a game.” You finally croaked out, voice sore from holding back tears. “It was just a stupid game, I thought I found Matty but it was you.”

“I should’ve asked for your name. But, the potion and my inhibitions…”

“How does this even happen, Theo? Are you such a slut you were just letting a girl grind on you when you didn’t even know her name?” Mattheo jabbed, but the heat of rage was gone from his words, and instead lingered a desperation for some kind of explanation.

“Yes, apparently, I am!” Theo slapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late now. The potion, the weed, the whiskey, it was all mixing, and Theo had always been a chatterbox when intoxicated. “Cazzo, she’s so fucking hot, mate! I didn’t want to stop and ask questions, I just wanted to get my hands on her and—” His words disintegrated into a gurgled choke as Mattheo once again pinned him to the wall, this time with a hand on his throat.

His fingers flexed, and with a ragged swear he released the grip he had on Theo, allowing him to speak once again.

“Mattheo, you have to let me go.”

“Why?” Your boyfriend demanded, even as his hand loosened a fraction more. No matter how angry he was, you all knew he was incapable of hurting Theo. Mattheo would sooner injure himself than someone he loved, and Theo fell squarely into that category. “Why should I?”

“Because you’re not going to hurt me, we both know that,” Theo said gently, and Mattheo growled in a threat that scared nobody. “It’s not our fault. We were laced with a potion, a potion that is still very much in my system and blurring my boundaries. I was already hard as fuck, and this is really turning me on. Please let me go before this gets any more embarrassing for all of us.”

Your eyes widened, much like Mattheo’s, and Theo smirked a little at the shock he’d managed to inflict. “What?”

“Merde, since it’s clear that I’m not getting fucked tonight, and blue balls are setting in, could you kindly let me go, before I cream myself from your choking, Mattheo?” Theo hissed, his fingers wrapping around the wrist of the hand now merely sitting like a warm presence on his throat.

Mattheo considered it for a second, two, three. A whole new kind of tension lingered in the air, and his hand slipped down from Theo’s throat to his shoulder instead. He turned to look at you, his gaze finding your own, a questioning heat swirling in them that you knew all too well. Mattheo wanted it. That kind of burning desire was something you were intimately familiar with, as was his secret wish to fuck his best friend. He’d wanted it long since before the two of you had gotten together, and he’d confided it in you early on. You’d discussed the possibility before, sure, but Theo had never been unattached, or the timing had never been right. You’d never dared cross such a line before. Now, the line was all but obliterated anyway, might as well proceed without caution.

With a small nod, excitement lit up Mattheo’s face in replacement of dark anger.

“Who says you’re not getting fucked?”

It was Theo’s turn to be speechless, that smirk melting off of his face as he gaped instead. With all the elegance and eloquence you knew him to possess, he uttered a simple, “Huh?”

Turning back to you, Mattheo slipped a hand over your eyes, while pressing a kiss to your cheek. He muttered a few Geminio’s, and when he removed his hand, both of them had their masks back on, and matching attire now. In identical tees and jeans, right down to the boots and gloves, they looked the same. Your heart skipped a beat, and your throat bobbed with anticipation.

“Can you tell who’s who?” One of them asked, their voice unrecognisable once again, and without the simple features you’d clung to for identity, your lips parted. On a trembling, excited breath, you shook your head.

“No. I can’t.”

“Good.” With that, a hand slipped into each of your own, a tug within your stomach telling you that someone had apparated the three of you, because when you blinked next, you were in the boys’ dorm. The latch on the door flicked locked with a quiet spell, and the needle on the record player lowered to begin crooning one of Mattheo’s favourite albums for these kinds of moments.

You looked between them both, a twisted glee at having no idea who was who. One of them reached a hand out, brushing cold fingers along your cheek, and you leaned into his touch, peering into the dark spaces of the mask hiding his eyes.

“I think this moment deserves a picture, don’t you?” One of them whispered, head tipping to the other, and a condescending and arousing chuckle made you shudder with anticipation. In a flurry of moving hands and bodies, you found yourself kneeling before the full-length mirror in the room, both of the masked men standing behind you. One had your hair twisted around his hand loosely, as the other held the camera.

Click.

“So pretty.” Came a quiet mumble, you weren’t even sure which man said it, but it made you flush and smile nonetheless. Untwisting his hand from your hair, he offered it to you instead, your fingers settling over his own as he helped you back to your feet. With a small tug, you were tumbling into his body, a gasp leaving you as your back settled on his chest.

The next photo came as you stood, your head rolled back onto a shoulder, and your dress pulled down to bunch around your waist, leaving your breasts and lacy bra on show. Large hands covered your tits, squeezing appreciatively as your vision spotted from the flash of the little Polaroid once again.

Click.

“Guess who?” The voice purred beside your ear, those hands moving to your hips, your thighs, tracing your body as though a new wonder before him.

“Theo?” You whispered, tipping your head to come face to face with the mask.

“Wrong.” The one holding the camera said, and a whimper slipped from your throat as Mattheo slapped your arse with just the kind of punishing pressure he knew so well. Biting down on your lip, you let them readjust you, slipping your eyes closed as you stood in the centre of the room. Someone tugged your dress the rest of the way down, someone held your hips as you slipped out of your heels, and then someone was flicking open the catch on your bra, until you were stood naked in the centre of the room.

For a long moment, nobody touched you at all, and your nerves skittered at the thrill, breath catching in your throat.

Then, warm hands without the leather gloves now were on your body. Behind you, their breath on your neck, hands skimming up your arms lightly, and you gasped. You understood the game they wanted to play.

“Theo?” You whispered, sure you’d guessed correctly this time, with the reverent and cautious touch it seemed to be. The sharp sting of a hand coming down across your arse proved you wrong.

“Nope.”

The figure stepped away from you, and your fingers twitched to reach out, your lips pulling in a grin as you waited for the next set of hands to come. When they did, it was without hesitation, two large hands closing over the top of your bra, and taking an appreciative squeeze.

The force with which he grabbed you pulled you back into his chest, and you chuckled, tipping your head until you could feel the beat of his heart against you.

“Theo.”

You were certain of that, getting a rumbling him against your back, and a kiss to your shoulder blades as he backed away, confirming your choice.

The next touch was on your stomach, knuckles skimming in a featherlight touch over your skin, circling your navel, before fingertips traced the top of your panties. Snapping the elastic against your skin, he drew a breathy moan from you. “Matty.”

“Wrong.” His words were punctuated with a slap, your legs shaking with the impact, and you clenched your thighs together, forcing your eyes to stay closed no matter how much you wanted to open them. The camera never stopped clicking, observing you and recording you in the moment of erotic vulnerability.

A handful of tense moments passed this time, you were sure they were communicating something outside of your knowledge. There seemed to be no order or system to their touches, nothing you could latch onto, leaving you completely in the dark, and it was thrilling.

A light touch traced its way up the inside of your thighs, a contrast to the foot that roughly kicked the insides of your feet, forcing your thighs to open wider. The other hand was on your back, tracing your spine until he pushed between your shoulders forcing you to bend. And as you did, those same fingers traced your cunt through your underwear, drawing an impatient whine from you as you were forced to keep waiting. “Teddy?”

“Wrong again,” Came Mattheo’s amused voice, and this time, you didn’t get a spank across your arse, but instead, a pinch to your clit that made your entire body jerk.

“That was Mattheo.” You squeaked, familiar with his antics and the way he touched your body, and a face in front of you laughed. Cracking your eyes open to peer at someone so familiar and yet so unfamiliar at the same time, he smirked at you.

“That was an obvious one.”

“Mhm.” Licking across your lower lip, you pushed forward, eager to close the distance and kiss your boyfriend for the first time tonight. He let you, his mouth sealing against your own in comforting familiarity, his hands holding your jaw as he straightened you back up.

His tongue played with your own while he guided you backwards until he was lowering you onto the bed, his knee between your thighs to grind on, pressing against your aching core and giving you the relief you so desperately needed. “You’re so wet, sweetheart. Is this getting’ you going?” He teased, raising your hands above you, and all you could do was nod and moan. His hand cupped your face, his thumb rubbing across your cheek, as his mouth trailed your jaw on the other side.

When he’d finished marking his favourite spot on your neck, leaving the skin stinging in the best way possible with his prints, he pulled away once again. He flipped you over, onto your stomach, undoing the catch on your bra and letting you shake your arms out of it, before you were without touch once again, back to both of your men as they stood behind you.

Face down in the bed, you once again lost track of who was who, feeling another set of hands snaking their way up your thighs, into the lace of your panties. Inching them own, slowly, so slowly, another hand laced into your hair, pulling your head up from the bedding, and a body pressed against your back, the camera flashing in your face once again.

“Oh, fuck.” You whined, the desperation beginning to cloud any semblance of morals or judgement you might’ve had left far more than any potion ever could. “Enough pictures, I need you, please!”

“Who do you need, baby? Who’s on their knees for you, huh? Get it right, and you can have it.” Clenching your thighs, you keened, throwing an arrogant smirk over your shoulder.

“Theo.”

They both paused for a second before Mattheo chuckled. “How’d you know?”

“Because when you eat me out, Matty, you bite me first.” Your smirk was countered with a spank to the back of your thighs, and Theo sank his teeth into one of your arse cheeks as a consequence for your attitude, but it was worth it.

Flipping up your skirt and exposing the sensitive skin of your backside to the room, Theo blew a streak of cold air across your bare pussy, making you jerk forwards with a startled gasp. “I’ve wanted to get my mouth between your legs for so long, bella. You have no idea how often I think about this.”

With that, Theo licked a long stripe up your dripping folds, and his moan was almost as loud as yours as he got a taste. Like a man possessed, Theo began to eat. He didn’t hold back, not even for a moment, confident in his movements as he proved all those rumours true. Girls loved to talk, Theo was a hot topic in gossip groups, and you were ashamed of how often you’d listened in. Now, you knew it all to be true.

You were just beginning to lose yourself to the feeling, hips rocking against Theo’s face as he eagerly encouraged the actions, when your head was yanked up, to meet another ghost-faced mask peering down at you. You were sure your heart had stopped beating altogether.

Kneeling before you on the bed was Mattheo. If you weren’t well aware by this point that Theo was the one on his knees behind you, devouring you like you were his final meal, you’d have recognised Mattheo by his cock alone. Pretty pink tip and a slight curve that always hit just right, the silvery bead of arousal running down his tip and into his fingers as he pumped slowly made your mouth water.

His fingers brushed your cheek, settling on your jaw, and you opened your mouth for him.

“My good girl.” He murmured, allowing you enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows before the heated head of his cock found its way between your lips and settled like a heavy weight on your tongue. The salty taste of him was familiar, slicking across your tastebuds as you swirled your tongue around him, a deep and throaty rumble echoing from his chest as he settled back.

With your hips pinned to the bed, your cries of pleasure were muffled by the cock in your mouth, he switched between fucking you with his tongue and teasing your clit. The sensations were overwhelming, so much going on that your head was spinning.

Kneeling there, thick thighs spread as your hands smoothed up them, you moaned around Mattheo, passing on the pleasure Theo made you feel. Sliding one hand up higher as the other supported you, your head bobbed, fingertips raking his flexing abs under his shirt. Tugging on a handful of the material, Mattheo tipped his covered face back to you, and you swore you could feel his smirk under the mask in the mere way he tilted his head.

Pulling back with an obscene pop, you gasped for air, straightening your arm and leaning up as far as you could, while Theo still brutally gripped your hips to keep you in place against his face. “Please, Matty, take it off.”

With a mutter, his shirt disappeared, the chain you knew so well hanging around his neck, glinting in the warm lights against the glow of his skin. He held your face in his hands, pulling you up, and the mouth of the mask pressed against your lips. The taste of him through the fabric made your head spin, rationale abandoning you once again as you kissed him through the mask.

His fingers threaded into your hair, tightening ever so slightly, as he pushed your head back down. “Suck, sweetheart.”

You dropped on shaky arms, taking the length of him down your throat once again, using him to muffle the sounds of your moans from Theo’s relentless assault on your cunt. The pressure building inside of you swelled, your hips grinding back against Theo’s face, pushing into the security of his hands on your body as he held so tight he’d bruise. With a cry around Mattheo’s cock, you fell apart.

Your boyfriend pulled back as you came, your shouts and pleas exposed to the room as you trembled through an incredible orgasm. Theo kept up with you, every wave and dip, until you were boneless and spent on the bed.

But he never stopped.

Your fingers twisted in the sheets, a sensitive mewl escaping you, and as you tried to claw your way up the mattress, Theo pulled back, biting at your inner thigh.

“You’re not going anywhere, dolcezza. I’ve waited so long for this, and who knows if I’ll ever get the chance again. I’m making the most of this. And I’m not finished.”

Mattheo slid off the bed as Theo flipped you over, letting you face the ceiling instead of the sheets now as he lifted one knee over each of his shoulders, his arms banding around your thighs. It locked you where you were, splayed open and unable to escape as he dove back in.

Your back arched, head pressing into the mattress as his assault began anew on your overly sensitive cunt. As he worked, his own moans increased in volume and urgency, and you found the strength to lift your head for only a moment. Kneeling on the floor behind the maskless stranger that you knew to be Theo, was Mattheo. Now without his mask too, messy curls on display again, Theo sank two fingers into your core and scissored them open, freeing himself up to toss his head back onto Mattheo’s shoulder.

Mattheo was kissing and biting his way along Theo’s shoulder and up his throat, his arm around Theo’s body moving in a way that you knew exactly why Theo was moaning in such a way. When Mattheo’s kisses reached high enough, Theo twisted his head, lips locking on Mattheo’s, and you clenched down around his fingers, dropping your head back to the bedding at the sight.

Theo switched between kissing your boyfriend and kissing your pussy, both involving copious amounts of tongue, as his fingers never let up inside of you. Already being so overstimulated, it didn’t take long until you were teetering on the brink of another earth-shattering climax, ears ringing with your noise and Theo’s.

Hopefully, everybody was at the party, because you’d forgotten to cast a Muffliato and there was no doubt that anyone passing by would be able to hear your moans. That, and the needy sounds Theo was making as Mattheo worked him closer and closer to the edge.

When you finally came again, your body shook and trembled against the mattress, legs snapping closed as your wetness soaked your thighs, and you gasped for burning breaths amid the delirious pleasure. On the floor, Mattheo tugged an overstimulated Theo’s head back with a fistful of his golden hair, and bit the lobe of his ear, hard. Theo’s eyes rolled back happily as Mattheo mumbled, “Don’t you dare come yet, pretty boy, I have plans for you.”

With that, Theo was whining pathetically as Mattheo retracted from touching him at all, rocking to his feet with far too much arrogant ease for the state both you and Theo rendered to. The final pieces of clothing between the three of you were shed, somewhere between Theo pulling Mattheo in for desperate kisses, and Mattheo mumbling into the snog about how long he’s desired this. You watched, through hooded eyes, as the tangled men stumbled their way towards you, hips grinding together through decreasing layers of clothing, until Mattheo was gripping them both in his hand to thrust together.

You threw an arm over your eyes, too turned on by the sight before you to even catch your breath, and the mattress was soon bouncing as another body hit it. You found yourself lying beside Theo on the bed, his features ever so slowly starting to seep back into focus. The potion was nearing its end, and the smile on his swollen lips was familiar as he leaned over to kiss you.

“Hi, bella.”

“Hi, Teddy.” You grinned as his mouth slanted against your own, a heady mix of Mattheo’s flavour, your arousal, and simply him, all meeting in the kiss. It was enough to melt you into his arms in half a second. Theo rolled onto his back, bringing you with him, and you yelped as Mattheo gripped your hips and lifted you to straddle Theo properly.

“You looked so pretty squirming in his lap before, baby. Show me again.” Mattheo mocked, and you had no doubt you were far from pretty, now. Your tears would’ve ruined your makeup, smeared into your hands or the sheets, you no doubt looked like a fucked-out mess, but the only thing you saw reflected in either of their gazes was raw, primal desire.

Theo slipped a hand from your hip to his cock, notching the leaking tip to your entrance, already stretched out from his previous activities. You were clenching around nothing, your whining reaching your ears, fading out into moans as he slowly sank into you. Inch by inch, Theo was stretching you out for the first time this evening. He was longer than Mattheo, surpassing any depths you’d ever been fucked to before, and your eyes rolled back, panting through shallowed breaths as you pushed back against him until you were filled.

It truly felt like he was splitting you in half, the tip of his cock pressing so deep and the outline of him present on your stomach. You traced the bulge of him with a sick kind of thrill. “So big, Teddy.”

“That's because I’ve never been this turned on in my fucking life. Merde.” He wheezed, his head pressing back into the bedding behind his head. Mattheo chuckled from behind you both, his kisses leading up your spine as you sat in Theo’s lap, adjusting to the fill of him.

“Look at my sweethearts, already so spent,” Mattheo murmured, hooking his chin over your shoulder, his arm snaking around your waist to toy slowly with your throbbing clit. As your hips began to move, Theo’s jaw dropped open, and his eyes constantly moved between where you met, your face, and Mattheo. He couldn't decide where to look or what to watch, as Mattheo littered your mouth with hickeys behind you, and you rode Theo.

The potions were finally wearing off, and you were thrilled to see the familiar features reappear. Beneath you, at last, Theo came into full focus. His messy hair, his flushed cheeks, swollen lips and shining eyes. He was the most beautiful you’d ever seen him, and that was saying something because he was gorgeous every moment of every damn day. You couldn't help yourself as you smiled, and he beamed back with genuine emotion, not just lust.

Rocking your hips needily against his own, chasing both of your climaxes, you leaned down to him and smothered his lips with your own. He kissed back just as tenderly, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, and he sighed in a soft manner as your fingers slipped into his hair, and your tongue tangled with his.

He settled for propping himself up during the kiss, giving you the perfect place to lean against his chest. Finally finding himself and crooking his legs behind you, his motions tossed you forward a little more, your mouths parting with your surprised gasp. He smirked as you lost your momentum and power, only to hand it all over to him as he began to thrust up into you from below. In your new position, Mattheo let out a contented sound at the sight, running calloused hands down the sides of your ribs, over your hips, and to your arse.

Pulling your cheeks apart, he whispered a new spell you’d been experimenting with lately, and the warm, wet sensation of a lubricating charm trickled out from between your cheeks. A fingertip teased your puckering hole, sliding in to the first knuckle, and then deeper.

“Think you can take us both, baby?” Mattheo asked, teasing, but genuine concern coated his voice through the lust, and when you nodded frantically, it wasn’t enough.

“Both?” Theo panted, his thrusts slowing to a stop as you pushed yourself back onto what was now two of Mattheo’s fingers, stretching you open to take a second cock. “Oh, fuck, you’re— voi due siete come se il mio sogno più bello diventasse realtà.” Theo moaned, his hands holding your hips tight as he slammed a single, frantically hard thrust into you and then stilling for Mattheo.

“Yes or no, sweetheart? I don’t want to—”

“Yes, Mattheo! Merlin, yes, please! Please, do it.” Your begging was hurried and blurred, no longer capable of proper thought of speech, all you knew was what you needed from him. From them both.

Mattheo slipped his fingers out of you, gripping his cock and spitting down onto himself, smearing it around his cock in the wetness already gathered, and positioning himself. At the sight, Theo whined again, “Me next,” He mumbled, and Mattheo laughed breathlessly.

“To be spat on, or to be fucked up the arse?” Mattheo questioned, sinking himself into you slowly, and your eyes rolled back.

“Cazzo, what kind of question is that? Both. Absolutely both.” Theo yapped, only drowned out by the volume of the sound you made. Pornographic, filthy, and uncontrollable. Your arms finally gave way, and you collapsed down to be cradled against Theo’s chest as you were finally filled with them both. It was so much it was overwhelming, in the best way possible, and you knew now that you were definitely being split in two this time. It was exquisite.

Beginning to rock their hips into you, the two soon found a pace and worked together, and you lost yourself to the pleasure of it. Pure, unadulterated bliss took you over, the feeling spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes, and clouding everything thought in your head that wasn't begging or their names. Your body rocked with them, your throat raw, and it wasn’t long before the feelings were all consuming.

Catapulting over the brink of bliss, a feeling you’d only experienced once or twice before took hold of you. Your juices gushed from you, a mess that soaked both the man under you as well as the one behind you. Mattheo praised you through an orgasm that came with so much force you were sure you blacked out for a moment, while Theo rode you through it and observed in awe. Your heart was pounding so hard you felt as though you were hardly breathing, screams petering off into absolute silence as tears ran down your cheeks. It was perfect.

Mattheo soon followed, emptying himself inside of you with a deep and feral growl, pressing you into Theo’s chest as his body collapsed against your own. Shaking against you through his bliss, Mattheo left a collection of fast, loving kisses along your neck and shoulders, before pulling you off of Theo.

Letting you roll to the side and shudder through the aftershocks, Mattheo focused his attention on the other member of your trio. Theo couldn’t even find the words to complain before Mattheo was circling a finger and thumb around the base of Theo’s cock, following the creamy circle of your arousal, and squeezing.

Theo’s back arched, his legs spasming, and the veins in his biceps stood out as his cheeks went red with the strain of his desperation.

“No!” He howled, slamming a fist into the bedding, almost hitting the discarded camera, and your hand caught it just before it rolled off of the edge of the bed. Surprising, that it had survived there for this long. “Why, Matty? I was— I was—”

Theo’s voice cracked, tears lining his eyes at being held at the brink when he was so close to the edge, and he took gasping, audible breaths as he tried to settle himself, sniffling.

“I know, my pretty boy, I know,” Mattheo whispered, leaning down to kiss Theo’s frown. “You can come, just let me get my mouth on you first. I’ve always wanted you to come down my throat, I just needed you to hold off for me.”

Theo let out a pained groan at that, his anger fading away as he nodded, and he slipped long fingers into dark curls before your very eyes as Mattheo descended upon his best friend’s cock.

He dragged his tongue along the entire length of him, licking your juices from Theo’s skin, and his cock twitched dangerously. Taking the hint, Mattheo swallowed him down, and he wasn’t even halfway before Theo’s back arched, and he came.

It was a beautiful sight and sound, both you and Mattheo watching in admiration as Theo finally reached his peak. Positioning the camera in your unsteady hands, you snapped a picture of the sight before you. Theo’s arched back, Mattheo with his flushed cheeks stuffed full, watching the man he was pleasuring.

Click.

At the flash in the room, Mattheo’s focus moved to you, a wicked look flashing in those pretty eyes as he sucked one more time against Theo’s cock, before pulling back. He opened his mouth, tongue out, a picture of perfect filth as he showed just how much come Theo had released, dripping across his tongue.

Click.

He took the camera from your hands and tossed it to the ground the second the photo was out, leaning down to kiss you messily and share the prize he’d won. Hurried kisses with Mattheo slowed as Theo’s taste seeped away, and your racing hearts all managed to settle.

The three of you lay in the bed, slowly gathering yourselves once again as you came back down from orbit. You were covered in bruises and bites, Theo was covered in your scratches and hickeys, and Mattheo was just a mess. The room smelled of sweat, sex, and weed Mattheo sparked up. Theo uttered a few charms and spells, whatever he could think of as you all basked in the afterglow, sharing the spliff between you.

Curling onto your side when it was finished, you caught Mattheo’s eye over the top of Theo’s chest, the grin he wore told you just how content and satisfied he was with the night’s events. Theo lifted an arm, brushing it through his hair with a heavy sigh, and when he lowered it back down, you caught his hand.

Lacing his fingers with your own and snuggling in closer, your cheek came to rest on his shoulder as you kissed his knuckles. “That was incredible.” You whispered into the room, the music sputtering out and the lights lowering to fade out with a click of Mattheo’s fingers.

“We’re doing that again soon, right?” Mattheo asked, prompting tired laughs from both you and Theo. “What? I haven’t even begun to scratch off the bucket list of things I want the three of us to do together.”

893 notes · View notes

comatosebunny09 · 6 months ago

Text

merry christmas, mr. sylus

— summary: the one where you nearly tear your hair out, trying to find the perfect christmas gift for your office crush. — cw: fluff, romance, jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, reader is not mc, ceo au, modern au, aged-up characters, mutual pining — notes: part 2 here — now playing: merry christmas mr. lawrence - utada

What do you get a man who has everything? Who can buy anything at the drop of a hat?

Nothing. The answer is nothing. And the realization, as it slowly descends onto your shoulders, is really starting to piss you off.

You blow some hair from your face for the umpteenth time since you’ve started this little adventure. Throw yourself against the bench in the midst of the mall’s second floor, peering up at the ceiling as if it can solve all your problems.

Your wares, bags of varying colors, sizes, and materials, sit off to the side. It’s an impressive haul—gifts for coworkers, family, and friends. But nothing buried beneath the sparkly tissue paper of said bags is for him.

At least, not yet.

You lean back in a defeated slouch, arms crossed over your chest. Puffing your cheeks out, you exhale all slow and dramatic, watching the lights adorning the Christmas tree in the mall’s epicenter twinkle like bokeh. Your lips twist into a pout.

Mr. Sylus isn’t particularly picky, at least from what you’ve gleaned from working as his secretary the past year. You know how he likes his coffee: black. How he prefers your morning briefs: quick and concise. How he often falls asleep in his office, propped on an elbow on his desk, the usual furrow between his brows traded for something more serene as sunlight bleeds in, framing him like a halo–your cheeks warm at the memory.

You bow forward with a sigh, your head held in your hands.

You know enough about your boss to appease him. To level with him. You just wished you knew him a little…better. Enough to make this gift-buying venture you’ve been on since 8 AM worthwhile.

You tried asking Luke and Kieran, his financial and technology advisors, for pointers. They’d worked with him longer than anyone else at Starlight Enterprises. Naturally, they knew him like the backs of their hands. But they spoke in riddles when you asked. Confused the hell out of you, speaking of challenging his authority to get to his heart and things of that nature.

You didn’t know what the hell any of that meant. And even if you did, it’s not like you were out to steal his heart, though you someday hoped to.

As cordial as Mr. Sylus had been since you began working for him, you always felt like he kept you at arm’s length, even as the months under his tutelage eased by. He steeled himself against you, though your coworkers swore they’d never heard him so talkative.

Sure, he occasionally greeted you with rare smiles and snickered at your terrible, cringe-inducing jokes. Entertained you with sporadic coffee runs and maybe went out of his way to chat you up before disappearing behind the heavy, oakwood door to his office. But you didn’t expect a man like him to fully open his chest cavity to you, no matter how disarming you were.

You were so desperate for the perfect present that you even perused through his contacts and reached out to someone who’d frequented his office more times than you could count. Ms. Hunter. She had a name, but you’d grown accustomed to addressing her as such, adopting the moniker from your boss.

Sylus always smiled so youthfully when she swung around your desk and walked into his office. Her presence alone seemed to shave 10 years off his life in a way you were envious of. You didn’t know the semantics of their relationship. Could never make out what they were saying, their voices distorted murmurs behind a closed door. As far as you were concerned, they were good friends. Or your delusions had convinced you of such, and you still secretly hoped you stood a chance with him.

But you couldn’t help how your stomach gnarled, and words stalled in your throat when, after each time she left, Mr. Sylus was particularly cheerful. Or as spirited as a man like him could be, his eyes shining with residual fondness as he requested you reschedule his meetings before he shacked up in his office again.

You shake your head to dispel your thoughts. You’ve sunken into the abyss of self-deprecation again. Now’s not the time to pity yourself.

The bottom line was that Ms. Hunter wasn’t much help, either; she was cryptic on the phone as she threw out generic options, seemingly disinterested. But you wouldn’t give up despite how unhelpful everyone around you was. Mr. Sylus deserved something—anything to show how grateful you were to have been taken under his wing.

You sit up again, watching as families and couples mill about, swept up by the Christmas spirit. Briefly, you wonder if Mr. Sylus even celebrates Christmas. Your endeavor might've been for naught. He doesn’t strike you as the type to indulge in silly holiday traditions. He’s usually all business and stoned-faced when he isn’t entertaining your morbid jokes or his lady friend. But you’re persistent, having organized a holiday party on Christmas Eve at the office without his consent.

You told him after you already set your plans into motion. And he looked at you from the rim of his monitor with a quirked brow and a smirk canting one corner of his lips skyward. He sat back in an easy slouch, tapping the tips of his fingers together, seemingly mulling over your request.

“Do I even have a say in the matter?” he teased in that humored, attractive rasp.

You stood before him, determined, a hand on your hip whilst the other clutched a set of Manila folders to your chest. “Not at all.”

Mr. Sylus scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew he was fighting a losing battle.

You could be terribly insistent when you wanted to be. Most of the time, it got you into trouble in your previous professions. However, as you grew more accustomed to your boss, you found he coddled your fighting spirit.

And with time, you also discovered it easier to manipulate him—at least to a certain degree. Your pout and guilt-tripping when he wouldn’t bend to your will, he could manage. But you barging into his office, insisting he eat, stretch, or simply take a load off? He could not contest that.

Or he at least chose not to.

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, the amusement never leaving his face. “You drive a hard bargain. I won’t interfere. But don’t expect me to help you orchestrate this little soiree.”

You smiled triumphantly, peering down at your boss from the tip of your nose. “I don’t. I just expect you to be there with your cutest Christmas sweater, smiling and ready to party.”

He gave you a look. One that read, ‘I don’t do cute.’ And you stifled a laugh, imagining your stoic and trendy boss donning something other than a suit. He must’ve caught wind of what was going on in your head, lifting a brow at your mischievous cackle.

He waved his hand dismissively. Cheek dimpled whilst he busied himself with some financial reports on his desk. You spun on your heel, skipping out of his office with all the eagerness of a child, set to finish your work for the evening.

The earlier you finished, the more time you had for gift shopping and preparing for your holiday shindig.

Funnily enough, though your boss insisted he wouldn’t entertain your holiday antics, extra funds mysteriously appeared on the company card.

Two days later, you find yourself a huffy, downtrodden mess, stewing in your inadequacy.

You’ve scoured the city for the perfect gift over the past few days. Woke up early to travel out of town even, hoping to find something. Anything to make your boss all misty-eyed and appreciative. You’ve come up short; nothing seems to fit his vibe.

You’ve looked at watches, ties, cologne, and luxurious sweaters. Checked stores with prices that made your paycheck shudder. Nothing seems to resonate with him. To capture the essence of Mr. Sylus.

A glance at your smartwatch reveals it’s mid-afternoon. You deflate. Here you are, cities away from the investment firm, and you’ve nothing to show for your efforts.

It’s Christmas Eve. Your day off. You should be using it to prepare for the party, but your coworkers assured you they’d handle the decorations while you ran your errands.

Still, you’re at least an hour away from your home. Traffic is a hellscape around this time of year. You need to get back quickly to wrap presents and gather yourself for the festivities.

Resigned, you peel yourself from the bench, your bags weighted in either of your hands. You trudge across the mall’s upper level in search of the escalator. Maybe Mr. Sylus will forgive you for not having gotten him a gift. Anything you could think of getting, he could buy himself. He’s the CEO of the most notable investment company in the city. Surely, he wouldn’t bat an eye if you showed up to the party empty-handed.

Your head slung low, you’re about to descend on the escalator. However, something catches your attention in your periphery. You curiously meander towards a display window adorned with gaudy Alternative Christmas decorations. Something inside captures your interest, and a smile slowly crawls onto your lips.

With a renewed tide of optimism washing over you, you wander into the store.

Maybe fate is on your side today.

—

Your holiday soirée is fairly low-key.

It’s littered with modest decorations. Christmas garlands adorn the walls and columns of the tenth floor, dripping from the ceiling. String lights twinkle overhead, tables donned with red and green tablecloths and poinsettia centerpieces.

The six-foot tall Christmas tree is the focal point, frocked with artificial snow and sparkling ethereally amid the dark grey walls of your office space. Sure, you had to strain on tippy-toe to put the star up. And maybe you still had a bit of the faux powder in your hair. But, with a glass of bubbly poised at your lips, you inwardly pat yourself on the back. You truly outdid yourself, breathing life into these otherwise drab walls.

A few of your coworkers along with some of the other department heads are in attendance, trading work talk and gossip. Even Ms. Hunter carved out some time—at your insistence—to come.

Over your time as his secretary, you’ve gathered that Mr. Sylus is a bit of an introvert. You didn’t want to overwhelm him with a crowd. He gets enough attention as it is, being amongst the country's youngest, most successful business moguls. He’s always under scrutiny, much to your dismay. He deserves to take a load off from time to time, which is why you were so adamant about throwing this party in the first place.

Speaking of the devil, you haven’t taken your eyes off him since he made his grand entrance. Always had him in sight, sneaking little glimpses of his figure as it cut a sharp, regal outline amid the humble decor.

He looks amazing. Then again, when hasn’t he? With his striking white hair and uncommon, scarlet eyes, he sifts through his guests as he entertains them with fruitless chatter.

Though he didn’t entirely humor you with an ugly Christmas getup, he still wore something festive. A burgundy sweater that doesn’t betray his usual style. Complimented it with a black button-up beneath, matching slacks, and onyx loafers. Still so inherently Mr. Sylus.

He routinely captures your gaze. Raises his champagne glass to you in greeting, a small, dimpled smirk lighting up his features. You hide your bashfulness behind your glass, turning away to chat up your coworkers beneath the ambient crooning of the jazz music spilling from the speakers.

The night eases by with a bit of champagne. With hors d'oeuvres, karaoke, silly party games, and raucous laughter coloring the atmosphere. Everyone appears to be in good spirits, a few of the party’s attendees stopping by to let you know what a great job you’ve done putting everything together.

You brush them off with a lopsided smile, the bubbly fizzling in your system. You gnaw on your bottom lip once left to your own devices. You grapple with the idea of giving your present to your boss now. It’s a quarter ‘till 10 PM, and you’re sure you won’t have a more opportune time to present it to him.

You spot your boss amid the partygoers, the world around him blurring and bending as you focus solely on him. He talks with his Chief Technology Officer, a hand stuffed in his pocket. His posture is relaxed, an occasional, rich laugh spilling from his throat. You decide you quite like this side of him. His defenses at half-mast, swept up in the holiday cheer.

Your face warms. You’re not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the magnetic pull you feel towards him. With a bit of liquid encouragement, you swallow your resolve and swipe your gift from beneath the Christmas tree, making a beeline towards the man of the hour after his conversation ends.

But fate has other plans for you tonight, no longer working in your favor.

You’re halfway across the room when she walks into frame—Ms. Hunter. The smile you once held dampens, and you clutch your gift to your chest, stock-still. You watch with bated breath as she produces a thin, rectangular box from behind her and presents it to your boss, the glossy wrapping paper catching in the incandescent light.

He accepts it with a rare smile. Sets his champagne flute on a high-top table and carefully unravels the gift. Once the box’s contents are revealed, your throat grows dry, your eyes prickling with something warm.

It’s a crudely knit, crimson scarf. It looks like it itches and is two sizes too big for just one person. But it’s clearly a labor of love, and Mr. Sylus bends to allow his lady friend to drape it around his neck. He exudes a quiet fondness as she grazes the tip of his nose with one of the scarf’s frayed ends. It’s simple, yet it speaks volumes of the affection blooming between them.

Without having spoken a word, you sense whatever relationship they share stretches beyond that of mere friendship. It’s something more. Something you could only hope to obtain, but you’re grossly outmatched. All those months you spent in denial, rose-tinted glasses perched on your nose. You never stood a chance, and the realization slams into you with the force of a tsunami.

With a bitter chuckle, you peer down at the intricately wrapped gift in your hands. You’d taped and retaped it several times, determined to get the lines and creasing just right. Took your time curling the ribbons with scissors and scrawling his name on the To line. You protected your gift with your life on your way to the party. Cradled it like a baby. But now, the sight of it makes your stomach churn, the taste of bile heavy on the back of your tongue.

Feeling incredibly foolish, you hide your present at the small of your back, quietly stepping away to nurse your wounded pride.

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #christmas fic #holiday fic #sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus qin #modern au #ceo au

1K notes · View notes

lapinlunaire-games · 1 month ago

Text

Leonora is a UI template for use with the Sugarcube story format in Twine.

Inspired by an imaginary cathedral by the sea and the distorted, sacred devotions of a woman who was once a girl there.

Did this template need three stories for its demo? No, but here they are anyway: there's flash fiction, a petite novelette, and a branching interactive adventure to show off everything Leonora can do. All lovingly written, coded, and styled by hand.

Features:

Mannerism-inspired design

3 built-in themes (dark, light, sepia)

Customisable title screen

Matching settings & save menus

Optional built-in Character Profile

Annotated passage guide, CSS stylesheet, and Story Javascript for easy customisation

Responsive design for desktop, tablets, and mobile devices

Includes both portrait and landscape styling for small screens

Download + play the demo on itch:

#twine template #twine games #interactive fiction #indie game dev #writers on tumblr #writeblr #game assets #original fiction #short fiction #ok that's all my tag soup! i am very proud of these stories n the template i will not lie. all 32k words of em (only cried a little over js #i had a lot of fun making them and i learned a lot of cool new things >:3 #project oblation #name reveal i suppose #jinx.exe #leonora template

363 notes · View notes

maryychill · 10 days ago

Text

Digimon Adventure Tri: why it's more than you think

Originally posted on Reddit.

I believe Digimon Adventure Tri deserves a more careful, emotionally attuned rereading. I'm not here to claim absolute truth. I just want to share what I understood and felt, hoping this might encourage viewers to see the work through a different lens, especially if they're open to reevaluating it.

Tri isn't broken, it's fractured on purpose

Tri is not a classic sequel. It doesn't try to replicate the adventure spirit of the original series. Instead, it dares to explore a more introspective and emotional space. I've read some people saying that there are many subplots. But if you pay attention, everything that seems scattered is actually tied together by one common thread: the dissonance between who they once were, and who they begin to be when life stops giving easy answers.

I understand that not everyone wants to see their childhood characters grow up. That's valid. Sometimes we'd rather keep them frozen in time, running across the digiworld without ever facing heartbreak or existential crisis.

But Tri proposes something different.

It doesn't ask us to return to who we were, it asks us to acknowledge that we've changed. It shows that heroes can hesitate, that bonds can shift, and that searching for meaning is part of the fight too.

I find it moving that these characters have grown, that they're still evolving, each in their own way. That gives me hope. Because evolving doesn't always look like a flashy transformation. Sometimes it looks like staying, questioning, choosing not to run.

And if this stage doesn't resonate with you, that's okay too. Maybe it wasn't your moment. Or maybe your connection to Adventure lives on a different plane.

The beauty is that nothing takes away what came before or what comes after. It just gains new layers over time.

An emotional, not conventional structure

Tri doesn't talk about an external enemy. It speaks of an internal fracture.

From the very beginning, it tells us:

“Demiurge, the soulless creator... Idea, the true form of the world...”

This isn't just poetic dressing, it's the story's thesis. The Digital World was created as a system, but one that never truly understood the beings it would hold. The infection corrupting digimon isn't just a virus. It's a metaphor, a crack in the digital soul.

Tri doesn't follow the traditional "adventure-enemy-digivolution" formula. Its core conflict often comes in silences, glances, inner contradictions.

What hurts isn't always what happens. Sometimes it's the feelings too complex to name.

Taichi hasn't lost his courage, he's transformed it into responsibility.

Yamato isn't angry for drama's sake, he's frustrated because he doesn't know how to reach Taichi anymore.

Sora doesn't fade, she's depleted from holding everyone together while forgetting how to hold herself.

Joe isn't a coward, he's the first to confront doubt.

Mimi isn't shallow, she's defending her authenticity in a world that tries to mute it.

Koushiro isn't just the genius, he's a child who made logic his shield to avoid emotional collapse.

Takeru isn't just the optimist, his quiet strength is how he doesn't get pulled under by others' pain.

Hikari isn't just light, she's a channel. Her sensitivity connects her to the invisible, but it also makes her deeply vulnerable.

Meiko isn't a mistake, she's the weight of quiet guilt and undeserved blame.

Himekawa isn't a villain, she's a warning, consumed by a love that couldn't let go.

Nishijima isn't a mentor, he's a man who regrets arriving too late.

A symbolic reading of the Digital World

Tri challenges the Digital World's mythology. It introduces concepts like the Demiurge (imperfect creator) and Idea (true essence), pulling from gnostic and platonic philosophy. The infection is not just a digital bug. It's the result of a world built without understanding the emotions that would one day inhabit it.

Distortions in space, corrupted binary code (like the unexplained "2" in a system built on 0 and 1), the merging of realities, and the appearance of soulless replicas like Imperialdramon, none of it is random. It all speaks to a world collapsing from within, not due to external battles.

A quiet story of transformation

At the beginning of this story, Taichi wants to bring everyone back together, but time has passed. They've taken different paths, changed in ways that aren't always compatible. It's not about caring less. It's about learning that closeness sometimes fades without meaning to, and that trying to reclaim it isn't always simple.

A common criticism is that Taichi now hesitates and that this is regression.

Taichi's hesitation isn't fear, it's awareness. A pause. A question: can I still protect, without hurting anyone?

This isn't a contradiction, it's a continuation.

Let’s go back to Adventure:

Episode 16: SkullGreymon emerges from his recklessness

Episode 45: his leadership fractures the group

Episode 48: we see him doubt and we learn the origin of his guilt, blaming himself for Hikari's near death as a child.

02 never explored that aftermath. The story shifted focus to a new cast. But Tri picks up that thread and now Taichi isn't afraid of danger, he's afraid of causing harm. That’s not cowardice, it's growth.

And in that pause, we glimpse the roots of the future Taichi, who will one day become a diplomat, working for coexistence between humans and digimon.

Yamato doesn't understand the change, and he pushes, hoping to ignite the old spark. But underneath the anger is the fear of losing a connection that once felt unbreakable.

Meanwhile, the Digital World is fracturing.

Not from outside danger, but from the blurring lines between emotion and system, past and present, role and identity.

Soulless Systems

These aren't classic "villains":

Yggdrasill is not an evil mastermind or alien invader. It's a symbolic, near-divine system that governs without empathy. Cold, logical, and utterly disconnected. It never appears because it doesn't need to. Its will is carried out through proxies like Alphamon, corrupted Gennai, and even manipulated humans. Yggdrasill represents the idea of a creator that has lost touch with its creation, a divine absence rather than a presence.

Alphamon is not an enemy. He's an executor without voice or motive. He doesn't speak, doesn't hate, doesn't choose. He deletes threats because that is his function. He is kind of a ghost in armor, a weapon with no soul, following the will of a broken god.

Homeostasis is not the "good side". It's a system that seeks balance. A bodiless, emotionless protocol whose only priority is to restore order when chaos threatens to collapse the Digital World. It doesn't act out of empathy or cruelty, it simply follows its function. It doesn't shift because it changes its mind, but because its compass is not moral, it's systemic. It speaks through vessels (like Hikari) and intervenes not with force, but by rebooting what’s broken to restore balance.

Hackmon / Jesmon is not a friend or foe. He is the system's messenger. He watches from the shadows, especially focused on Meicoomon, whom he perceives as a destabilizing anomaly. But Hackmon doesn't act on feeling. He is the voice of Homeostasis. Its blade. And when observation is no longer enough, he digivolves into Jesmon. But Jesmon is not hope, is protocol. A final measure. He doesn't come to save, he comes to execute.

When the system doesn't grasp the soul

In a world where connections become unpredictable, systems try to fix what they don't understand.

But emotions can't be repaired or deleted with code.

It's there, amidst reboots and algorithms, that the chosen children must decide whether to obey or to choose.

Meicoomon, a rift in the soul

Meicoomon isn't just an infected digimon, she contains Libra, which can't be controlled or regulated.. Her bond with Meiko is the most fragile, yet it's also honest.

Meiko, a chosen child who struggles to understand and bear her role, still chooses to stay. She remains, even when she feels she's the source of the pain, and even when her presence brings discomfort to others.

Libra, the code sealed in the soul

Libra is more than just a virus or a system error. It's an anomaly within the code, a burden sealed within Meicoomon from her origin. Imagine it as a living archive, holding the emotional record of the Digital World before its reboot: light and shadow, order and chaos.

To safeguard this data, it was encrypted inside her, unbeknownst to her and beyond her capacity to handle.

But Meicoomon was not created to carry such a burden. Her sensitivity and natural instability made her vulnerable to that information. It overwhelmed her, turning her into a contradiction of innocence and chaos.

Libra is not her fault. It's the Digital World's doing for putting such a heavy burden on a digimon who simply deserved to exist.

The Reboot: resetting isn't healing

The reboot wasn't a mere narrative whim or an attempt to "fix" the Digital World. It was an emergency measure. The infection had destabilized the system so severely that Homeostasis executed its last resort to restore balance: a complete reset.

This reboot came with an incredibly high cost: the loss of memories, of everything shared between the chosen children and their partners.

It wasn't an act of malice, but one of coldness. A systemic protocol that simply doesn't account for emotions. For Homeostasis, a bond is just another variable in the equation of balance.

Some criticize the reboot for "failing" because Meicoomon remained infected. But that's precisely the point: Libra wasn't a superficial error. It was a deep rift, inscribed in her soul. It wasn't just digital, it was existential. And that can't be erased with a reset. Systems can be rebooted, but the soul cannot.

Yet, even though the reboot failed in its ultimate goal, the most valuable outcome was this: even without memories, without data, without prior programming... the bonds found their way back. Because some connections don't depend on memory. Some encounters transcend code. When the soul recognizes another, it doesn't need reasons. It simply responds.

Tri shows us that some connections can't be explained, they can only be felt. These are the bonds that endure, even through forgetfulness and loss.

And it's within this very mystery, something that completely eludes rigid systems, that the emotional and the intangible begin.

The "canon" isn't broken, the story has layers

The absence of the 02 kids has been one of the most persistent criticisms of Tri. However, from the first episode, their disappearance is presented as a deliberate choice, not an oversight. It's not a case of forgetting or erasing them. It was about narrowing the focus. Also, a narrative void designed to generate uncertainty, and that uncertainty is a key part of the emotional tone the story aims to convey.

Alphamon defeats them off-screen, and while this bothers their fans, it also emphasizes a crucial point: this isn't their story. It's the story of the original chosen children. Of those who are drifting apart and question if they are still the same people. Himekawa deceives them, telling them everything is fine, much like the system watches them silently. This manipulation also reflects an uncomfortable truth: sometimes, we grow up believing everything remains as it was, until it no longer does.

And when Imperialdramon appears in Episode 8 “Determination - Part 4”, it does so as a shadow. Not as the return of a beloved digimon, but as an anomaly. Daisuke and Ken aren't there. There's no digivice, no connection. It's a silent replica that attacks as if the Digital World were projecting a broken memory.

Could the pain of their absence have been explored more deeply? Maybe. But Tri chooses to focus its lens. It doesn't erase or contradict, it simply pauses at a different stage: the stage of those who are present. Those who, without intending to, also somewhat disappeared from themselves.

Perhaps Tri wasn't created to please. Perhaps it was created to make us feel.

Not all errors are failures

Tri isn't perfect. There are narrative moments that could have been more polished, and even the technical aspects of the art could have been refined. Yet, as a whole, it's a work that takes risks and proposes new ideas. It shifts the focus from "what happens" to "what we feel".

And for a series built on emotion and evolution, that might be one of the most natural next steps it could take.

What Tri tells us (if we dare to listen)

Tri shows us that growing up isn't just about leaving things behind, it's about relearning who you are when everything changes.

It shows us that sometimes, bonds break without anyone being at fault.

It reminds us that you can't always save another person, but you can stay, watch, feel, and simply be there.

And above all, Tri makes us realize a powerful truth: that bonds, even if they fade, change, or cause pain, are still what makes life truly meaningful. Because to feel, to doubt, to make mistakes, and to try again with another, that is truly to evolve, and it's absolutely worth it.

Recommendations for a better viewing experience

Divide it into chapters. I know Tri was originally released as OVAs, but you might find it on platforms like Crunchyroll, which divides it into episodes. This makes it easier to digest its emotional pacing.

Watch at least these prequels beforehand: Digimon Adventure, Our War Game and Digimon Adventure 02. Not because they're strictly mandatory, but because I think Tri is in direct conversation with the memories and events of those stories.

Choose the original japanese audio with subtitles. The dubs (especially in english and spanish) often contain significant errors that distort the emotional message. The original japanese voice acting is also rich with subtle nuances.

Avoid external noise. Don't let soulless criticisms or external expectations contaminate your experience. Watch Tri with a clear mind and open heart. Let the story unfold and speak to you, at your own pace, in your own way.

If it helps, approach it as a side story. Think of Tri less as a continuation and more as an exploration of this particular stage in the original Adventure kids' lives.

And if Tri wasn't for you, that's perfectly fine. Don't worry. It doesn't ruin anything, and it doesn't change anything. You can simply choose to omit its existence, or you can enjoy the layers it adds as it leads us toward the epilogue of Adventure 02.

Thanks for reading. If Tri also stirred something within you, offered you comfort, or left you with questions... it's truly wonderful to inhabit that space with you.

163 notes · View notes

chimcess · 5 months ago

Text

Pitch Black || jjk (Prologue)

⮞ Chapter 0: Prologue Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Convict!Jungkook, Escaped Prisoner!Jungkook, Piolet!Reader, Captain!Reader, Holyman!Namjoon, Captain!Taehyung, Doctor!Jimin, Genre: Sci-Fi, Action, Adventure, Thriller, Suspense, Strangers to Enemies to ???, Slow Burn, LOTS of Angst, Light Fluff, Eventual Smut, Third Person POV, 18+ Only Word Count: 400+ Summary: Stranded on a barren planet lit by three suns, a group of survivors struggle to survive after their transporter crash-lands. Their situation grows dire when pilot Y/N discovers that every 22 years, an eclipse plunges the planet into darkness, unleashing swarms of flesh-eating creatures. Facing both external threats and internal tensions, the group forms a fragile alliance. As mistrust and secrets surface, Y/N's complicated dynamic with convict and murderer Jungkook intensifies, making the fight for survival against the darkness and the creatures even more perilous. A/N: When I decided to rewatch the Riddick movies and reread the comics, I never thought I'd get so inspired to write a fanfiction based off of a "what-if" scenario, but here we are. So, this story follows the main storyline in Pitch Black (I think that's pretty obvious by the title) with a pretty large twist that leads into the rest of the story that's to come. Like everything I write (I'm so sorry), this will be a massive series that's pulling from a few of my new obsessions as well as my own creative thoughts and feelings. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you guys will follow along.

In the cold stillness of his cryosleep chamber, Jungkook's thoughts flickered like static on a faulty transmission, defying the stasis meant to consume him. They said cryosleep shut down most of the brain—all but the primitive side, the animal instincts that lurked beneath reason. Maybe that explained why he was still awake when no one else was. He didn’t question it much anymore. It just was.

Transporting him with civilians had been a bold choice, one he suspected someone would regret soon enough. The faint echoes of the world beyond his chamber filtered through his sharpened senses—a faint murmuring with an Saramic lilt, chanting low and steady. Likely a holy man, heading for New Mecca. But what route would they take to get there? He played out the possibilities in his mind, trying to map the path based on the faint hum of the engines and the sense of distance stretching endlessly ahead.

Then there was the scent. Subtle, but there: sweat mixed with leather, the metallic tang of tools, and the earthy grit of worn boots. A woman, no doubt—a prospector, maybe one of those free settlers who carved out a living on the fringes of colonized space. He imagined her kind: practical, determined, stubborn as hell. And he knew one thing for certain. They never traveled the main roads.

That brought his focus back to the real problem: Taemin Lee. The so-called lawman. A brown-eyed devil with a mercenary streak and a personal agenda. Jungkook knew exactly what Lee planned to do—drag him back to slam, back to a cage. But Lee had made a critical mistake this time. He’d picked the wrong route. The long route. The ghost lane.

A long time between stops. A long time for something to go wrong.

And as if summoned by that thought, something did feel wrong. Subtly at first, but unmistakable. The hum of the engines wasn’t right—too uneven, like a heartbeat skipping in the dark. The muffled sounds of the ship’s systems filtered through the walls of his chamber, distorted but insistent. Alerts, maybe. Warnings. He couldn’t make out the specifics, but the tone was unmistakable: something was off.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, his senses sharpening as his body fought against the enforced stillness of cryosleep. The faint shiver of vibration in the chamber walls had changed, the ship itself broadcasting unease. It was subtle, but he felt it—like prey sensing a predator in the shadows.

A long time between stops, indeed.

217 notes · View notes

syerra-637 · 2 months ago

Text

Melancholy -Yandere!Malleus x f!reader-

SUMMARY: Prisoner of a castle and a love that has become your golden cage TW: captivity, depression, suicidal thoughts, infantilization, isolation, unbalanced relationship, angst WORD COUNT : 2.0k

You let out a long sigh. A strange sensation tightened your chest, a sweet bitterness that rose up to your throat. It was a deep sadness, mixed with nostalgia, loneliness, emptiness… but also with a strange, bitter pleasure in letting yourself be consumed by it.

Through the window, you watched the rain fall. The drops slid slowly down the glass, tracing hesitant paths that your gaze followed without truly thinking about anything. Outside, despite the heavy sky and the puddles on the paths, everything seemed more alive than your gilded prison. A fleeting desire to leave, maybe even to disappear, passed through you—no more lasting than a heartbeat.

Eventually, you left the window ledge and sat down in one of the two armchairs placed in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled softly, casting trembling lights on the walls of the room. The warmth was gentle, almost maternal, but it did not ease the unease that weighed deep inside you.

Your gaze drifted toward the tall and imposing bookshelf that covered almost an entire wall. The shelves were heavy with books of all sizes: worn-out adventure novels, poetry collections, a few philosophical treatises, and many fairy tales. You already knew all these stories by heart. As for the unknown books, their severe and dusty titles did not entice you to open a single one.

Your mind, numb, wanted neither to think nor to dream. You simply stayed there, your eyes lost somewhere between the flames and the shadows, listening to the silence.

You could have approached the castle's library, searched for a book, perhaps even one you hadn't yet read. But you lacked the will. Nothing seemed worthy of your attention. You remained still, your eyes locked on one of the intricate patterns of the carpet covering the floor. The fine, complex designs seemed to twist and distort with the rhythm of your thoughts, like a distant echo of your own torment.

How much time passed like this? You had no idea. Everything had become blurry, a mixture of silence and heaviness. But suddenly, the distinct sound of a heavy wooden door creaking shattered the torpor. The great door of the gothic castle opened, and through that simple sound, he arrived.

You slowly turned your head, casting a furtive glance in his direction, as if merely looking at him could anchor you back to a more tangible reality. And there he was, standing in the doorway, an imposing, almost unreal figure.

It had to be said—Malleus possessed an otherworldly beauty, a beauty that was not merely physical but seemed to emanate from him, a nearly tangible aura. His face was finely sculpted, his features delicate and harmonious, with eyes of deep green, almost luminous, as if a stormy sky was hidden in his gaze. His pale skin seemed almost translucent under the dim firelight, and a cascade of jet-black, smooth, and thick hair tumbled over his shoulders. He wore clothes from another era, almost medieval, but the way he carried them made them timeless. The cut of his coat, trailing almost to the floor, spoke of ancient nobility, yet there was an astonishing lightness in his gait, something elusive, as if he were not entirely human.

His pointed ears, discreet yet undeniable, betrayed his belonging to the lineage of the fae, mythical beings caught between shadow and light. He had that strange way of looking at you, piercing through you, as if your soul could hide nothing from him. Every movement of his body, every gesture, carried the elegance and majesty of a king—but a king without a crown, a being older than the castle itself.

He entered with a slow step, as if carefully observing you without rushing. The door closed behind him with a soft thud, and the air seemed to grow heavy with an imperceptible tension, an almost palpable energy mixing with the warmth of the fire.

You were now staring at him, like prey fascinated by its predator. But he was in no hurry. Malleus seemed to savor the moment, every second stretched by the power of his presence, and in that suspended instant, you knew something was about to happen. Something that would finally shatter the silence weighing upon the room.

He approached you without a word. His footsteps, silent on the thick carpet, seemed more like gliding than walking. When he reached you, he gently took your hands in his, his cold fingers wrapping around yours with an almost solemn tenderness. Then, slowly, he knelt before you, his green eyes locked onto yours, with a gaze both loving, delirious, and obsessively intense.

There was a time when you would have given anything to be looked at that way, with so much intensity, so much raw, unfiltered love. But today, you knew. You understood that such a gaze was no gift, nor a comfort. It was dangerous. Far more dangerous than the black stare of a warrior on a battlefield, for Malleus, in the name of the love he bore for you, could justify acts that no war could ever pardon.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked in a soft, almost whispered voice, as if afraid to break something fragile within you.

Ah, that question.

Your gaze clouded over for a moment, and despite yourself, memories rose to the surface. A little over two and a half months ago, you had fallen seriously ill. First came the dull and persistent nausea, then the incessant vomiting, the devouring fever, the stabbing abdominal pain, and those violent headaches that felt like they would split your skull open from within. The full array of physical distress.

After examining you, the physician—a discreet woman with an overly analytical gaze—had asked you a few unusual questions, not about your body, but about your mind. Your mood, your sleep, your thoughts… It was strange. It had been so long since anyone had asked you about your mental well-being.

You still remembered the moment when, without warning, she had risen to leave the room and headed straight for Malleus’s study. The place where decisions were made. The place where you, even sick, had never been allowed to set foot.

It was ironic—tragically ironic: you were the one suffering, and yet you weren’t even allowed to know what was happening to you. Like a child deemed too naive to understand her own pain. You were no longer the master of your own body, even less of your own fate.

Since that day, Malleus had made it his sacred mission to ask you that damned question daily, sometimes even several times a day if he felt like it. The worst part wasn’t the question itself, but the answer you had to give. Each day, you had to innovate, find a new way to respond—convincing enough for him to be satisfied and stop questioning you, yet concise enough to avoid delving into that horrible topic that made you sick to your stomach. It was as if, for two months, you had to find a different way to say that the wall was made of stone. It was exhausting, complicated, and soul-draining.

Your throat dry, an irresistible urge to flee gripped you, though you knew escape would be impossible. Where could you go in this vast castle, where everyone obeyed Malleus? You prepared to speak, but the sound was trapped in your throat, while your mind scrambled to find an acceptable answer.

"I'm fine. It's just… a little tiring sometimes, but I'm fine." The words came out with difficulty, flat and mechanical. It was all you could offer — a polite lie, because the truth was far too complex, far too heavy to express.

Malleus didn’t seem entirely convinced by your answer, his green eyes shining with a dull concern. Before he could open his mouth to press further, you quickly took the initiative, clumsily changing the subject with almost childish awkwardness:

"I'm a little hungry… Are we eating soon? What’s for dinner?"

A flash of alarm crossed his gaze. It seemed inconceivable to him that you could feel hunger without it being immediately addressed.

"Dinner will be served in about an hour," he answered softly but firmly, "but I will ask the kitchens to prepare you a snack."

No sooner had he spoken than he had already stood up, summoning a valet with a wave of his hand. The servant appeared almost instantly, as if emerging from the shadows.

In a way, you could consider yourself lucky. Malleus had always shown infinite gentleness toward you, even at your worst moments. When you fell into fits of rage, destroying furniture and trinkets, sometimes even trying to hurt him (without success), he had never raised his voice, never lifted a hand against you. He had always preferred to soothe you, to reward the slightest sign of calm rather than punish your anger.

Over time, your fury had dulled. Breaking furniture had no impact: it was replaced within hours, as if your wrath had never existed. And deep down, you felt vaguely guilty for giving the servants extra work. So you had stopped.

As for Malleus… trying to hurt him was pure absurdity. Pain seemed to slide off him like rain on glass. The rare scratches you managed to inflict disappeared within minutes, leaving you with a bitter sense of helplessness, like a fly crashing against a mountain.

As soon as the order was given, the valet quickly disappeared, hurrying to the kitchens without a word. Malleus returned calmly to you and sat in the adjacent armchair, close enough that your shoulders almost brushed.

"How was your day?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with a feverish hope.

"As usual."

The reply escaped your lips in a breath, flat and emotionless. And unsurprisingly, it didn’t satisfy him.

You knew that look: a glimmer of disappointment mixed with endless patience. What he wanted wasn't just a few tossed-off words. He wished you would open up to him, talk freely, offer him a long monologue, a living fresco of your day, even filled with trivial details — the strange shape of a cloud, the creak of the floorboards under your feet, a fleeting thought you had while watching the fire dance.

But you hadn’t done that. Not today. Not yesterday. With every desperate attempt he made to spark a conversation, you erected an invisible wall, responding only with short, almost laconic sentences. A frugal use of words that had become your last refuge.

That night, as usual, you fell asleep in Malleus’s arms. He held you gently against him, his embrace full of silent tenderness. Yet you didn’t return the gesture. A part of you longed to, perhaps out of nostalgia, for that unconditional love you had once felt for him… But that desire was nothing more than a distant shadow.

Sleep that night was anything but restful. Bitter memories haunted your mind, like ghosts you couldn't banish. You relived the day Malleus had destroyed the portal — your only hope of returning to your dimension. That day, he had sealed your fate, chaining you to him forever. For what could a young adult without magic do here, trapped in a world that wasn’t hers?

Then, some time later, he had been crowned King of Briar Valley. The general jubilation, the songs, the shouts of joy… none of it touched you. That happiness, you could not share. And the distance between you had only grown since then. Such sadness.

When morning came, as always, Malleus was no longer by your side when you opened your eyes. But it didn’t matter. You had neither the strength nor the will to get up. So you closed your eyes again and fell back asleep almost immediately, with one silent wish: never to wake up. But you knew — you must never confess such thoughts to Malleus. Never.

#x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #yandere x reader #syerra-637 #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #soft yandere #soft yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere thoughts #yandere things #yandere twst #angst

130 notes · View notes

felassan · 9 months ago

Text

Dragon Age: "Photo mode is coming to Dragon Age: The Veilguard at launch! 📸 Capture stunning memories from your adventure in Thedas - and check out some that IGN captured here: [link]"

[source]

Photo Mode is confirmed!

Features of photo mode:

" - Free-roaming camera, tilt, focal length, and lens distortion - Depth of Field - Auto Focus - Distance - F-Stop, which lets you control the lighting - Vignette mode, which darkens the edge of the screen and gives it a more cinematic look - Bloom strength - Saturation, brightness, and contrast - The ability to hide the player, the party, enemies, or NPCs"

The article also mentions that DA:TV's photo mode was inspired by Mass Effect:

"Director Corinne Busche credits Mass Effect: Legendary Edition producer Brenon Holmes for getting photo mode implemented into The Veilguard. "Not only did he drive this feature, he did a lot of the work to support it," she explained. "What I really like is the tab that lets you hide various characters. So hide character, hide party, hide enemies, hide NPCs. You can really curate the shot to your liking...You might be mid-fight with a dragon, but there’s a character in the way, so you can clear them out.”"

[source]

The article also contains a gallery of new screenshots of DA:TV taken by IGN using photo mode.

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #mass effect #the context here is initially it was said that photo mode was confirmed #then it was said that they aren't sure but hope to have it in there and are working on it #so it's confirmed now which is so cool :D

326 notes · View notes

yahoo201027 · 1 year ago

Text

Day in Fandom History: January 30…

After Greg gets kidnapped by Blue Diamond after the events of “Steven’s Dream”, Steven, Pearl, Amethyst, and Garnet head out on a rescue and recovery mission to save the captured human by jumping into hyperspace to get to their destination. “Adventures in Light Distortion,” premiered on this day, 7 Years Ago.

#Day in Fandom History #7 Years Ago #Steven Universe #Season 4 #Episode 11 #Adventures in Light Distortion #Cartoon #Animation

11 notes · View notes

amongemeraldclouds · 6 months ago

Text

sparks fly

Camping with Mattheo to celebrate the new year leads to a different type of firework show (fluff).

Mattheo Riddle x gf!Reader (modern au)

A/N: I live in a place where winter is mild and completely forgot it's too cold to go camping for some places rn. Suspend your belief for this fic! In this setting, it's still perfect camping weather.

Warning: smut implied in the end.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Mattheo Riddle Masterlist | 965 words

The holidays at the Riddle's can be delicately summed up in one word: complicated. Christmas dinner was composed of tight-lipped conversation and awkward silences that made the entire affair feel more like a funeral than a party. The Riddle estate was majestic and imposing, the way a museum was rather than a home.

Thankfully, your New Year's celebration was up to you. Having had more than enough of your fair share of family drama, you proposed a getaway just for you and Mattheo. All he said was, "what would I do without you?" To which you replied with, "run out of fingernails to chew before we ring in the new year. Can't let that happen now, can I? I rather like all of you, fingernails and all."

To reach the campsite on time, you agreed to leave at 6AM. Mattheo in his gloriously nocturnal ways, decided to power through the evening and early hours of the morning so he'd make it on time. His bleary eyes and messy curls, adorable as they were, alarmed you.

You volunteered to take the first shift driving instead with a casual, "ladies first". With a festive playlist on blast and your offkey-but-passionate singing, the holidays were in full swing.

Leaning over to smile at Mattheo, you found his head tilted to one side of his shoulder, mouth hanging in peaceful slumber. You couldn't help but stop on the side of the road to take a picture for your growing collection of your boyfriend's silliest moments. The boy with a mean scowl and a penchant for danger let his guard down with you and it warmed your heart.

Your hands shook as you tried to stifle your giggles, careful not to wake him. You smiled in triumph when the photo was safely tucked into your camera roll.

The rest of the drive consisted of more singing, breathtaking sceneries, and exchanging horror stories with Mattheo when he finally woke up and took over the drive.

You tried to one up each other, going for darker and gorier tales. The sunrays painted them lighter and tamer than they actually were, but you'd find out soon just how scary they were when the sun hid behind the moon.

Setting up camp only required muscle memory at this point. You had been on so many camping adventures with Mattheo yet they were always as enjoyable as the first time.

You grilled meats and potatoes for dinner, while enjoying champagne and small treats as you cooked. Needless to say, your hearts and bellies were as full as holiday celebrations deemed they should be.

As you wound down for the night and settled into the tent, the silence amplified cricket chirps and rustling in the trees, sending a chill down your spine. Images of your horror stories from the drive flashed through your mind. Your panic swung into full gear when your light source went out, engulfing you in darkness. A strangled yelp escaped from your throat.

Your eyes searched in the dark only to be met by a sudden blinding light and the distorted features of Mattheo, as he held the flashlight under his chin. "Boo!"

Between fight or flight, your instinct was always going to be to fight. Before you could process what was happening, you lunged at Mattheo, knocking the flashlight to the ground.

It was Mattheo's turn to yelp at your sudden movements and he pressed his hands up in surrender. "You know I love your fiery spirit, but right now you're scarier than all those ghosts we talked about."

You laughed at his sudden admission. It still caught you off guard how much more of himself he could be around you. It set him off too, your laughter was infectious and it's his favourite sound. You rested your head on his chest as you laughed together, shoulders shaking and breath heaving. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

As your laughter faded, Mattheo leaned down to kiss your forehead. "Happy new year, love. Thanks for setting this all up."

"Better than Christmas?"

He rolled his eyes, "please, even Snape's lecture is better than Christmas with my family. This is way better."

You moved up then to kiss him and Mattheo caught the way the flashlight cast your shadows across the tent. He smirked, an idea forming in his head.

"I know that smile. What kind of nonsense are we getting into this time?" You matched his smile as you rested your arms on his chest.

His smirk grew wide to a full grin as he traced his finger playfully down your arm, sending electric sparks all the way down to your toes.

"Watch our shadows," he says, pointing to the silhouettes across you.

"You want to do shadow puppets?" You asked, moving your hands together to mimic a bird, just like you did as a child.

"Even better," he said, pausing for effect, "we can watch our shadows fucking."

You giggled at how silly it was, a wave of giddiness washing through you. Of course with Mattheo it would always turn sexual at some point, igniting your own desires in response to his. "So we can have our own firework show here?"

"You get the vision!" He responds, pulling you in for a kiss. It was so familiar by now the way your lips moved, knowing just where they fit against each other. Yet every moan and every gasp felt brand new. The champagne buzzed in your veins, burning with the intoxication of your desires.

You grinned when you both broke up for air, "well then love, let's make it one heck of a show."

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as he looked into your eyes. "That's my girl!" It was a happy new year indeed.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Mattheo Riddle Masterlist

Credit: Divider by @strangergraphics

A/N: Funny how this grew from HC, to blurb, to now a full blown fic. Love it!

#mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #amongemeraldcloudswrites #amongemeraldclouds fluff

129 notes · View notes

joelmillerswife9 · 1 month ago

Text

Hearts on Fire Part 2: The Morning After ☀

Thank you so much for all the love for Hearts on Fire. Here is Part 2, The Morning After!! Click here for Part 1

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! Joel and f!reader. Age Gap (reader is 30 Joel's in his 50s) kissing, female receiving o! , pandv, fingering, light spanking, hair pulling, cursing, light biting

The early morning sunlight slithered through the window making your dozy eyes twinkle. A soft groggy grunt escapes you as reality slowly sinks back in. You’re not sure what time it is, but by the aqua blue sky piercing through the opening it’s still early. The sun paints a beautiful golden shadow along your bedroom walls making the space seem less dull. What a beautiful morning, you think to yourself.

Taking in a deep inhale, your body starts to wake up. You stretch your arms and legs out crowding all the space on the bed; a feeling of serotonin traveling along your limbs creates a comforting feeling in your tummy. The soft warm sheets crumple and your body turns to where Joel was nestled. He’s not there, but his scent still lingers on the pillow and that’s enough to awaken the goosebumps. At first, you think he went home, but realize his flannel still rests on your curves. Unless he’s brave enough to do the walk of shame shirtless in 20 degree weather, he has to be somewhere in the house. Knowing Joel, he’s probably checking the appliances, making sure everything is running smoothly.

Glancing out the window, watching the clouds create distorted figures in the endless sky, memories from last night flood your brain. Butterflies start to pervade your tummy creating a ticklish sensation. Feral gasps and pants, from the memorable evening, echo in your ears. Your hands shield your eyes in an embarrassing manner, and uncontrollable giggles howl around the space. Soaking in the morning delight, your soft palms trickle along your body making the hair on your skin rise. You undo the top button on Joel’s flannel and delicately slip a hand inside, gently massaging your tender breasts. Your lips part at the thought of Joel’s delicious mouth grazing around your pebbled nipples. The sweet warmth that’s nestled in your tummy starts to explore around the lower regions. Your hands trickle down your torso where Joel’s plump lips and broad hands cherished you. You’d sell your soul to relive last night again.

The lower the adventure continues, the more flannel buttons come undone. Your legs part, as if under a magical spell and your hand creeps into your panties. You moan at the familiar ache of excitement building between your sweet cunny. Your fingers find your swollen pearl and delicately press down on the sensitive tissue, having your middle finger rub in an up and down motion.

“Mmmmm”

Your head sinks deeper into your pillow as you pleasure yourself. You want more. You crave more. Your middle and index finger slide down to your soaking opening and disappear inside, making you sigh into the pillow. You begin moving your fingers in a “come here” motion hitting all the sweet spots. Your other hand grabs onto the bedpost keeping you steady. Your pelvis elevates off the bed and your womanly hips grind into your fingers as if it’s Joel’s cock you’re riding.

“Oohh…..Joel” you breathlessly whimper. Removing the fingers from your aching cunny, you bring them to your mouth and savor the sweet juices. You slide the fingers back inside you and continue your little morning me time. A smile curves on your lips as you soak in the pleasure.

You feel your core tighten, a natural reaction when your climax is heating up. Suddenly, something catches you off guard; rough calloused hands pulling at your small wrist. Your eyes open and there’s Joel. His hair perfectly tousled from sleep and his eyes burning with excitement. His half naked body dips onto the mattress putting his knee in between your legs. How long had he been watching you? It was enough for his manhood to be bulging out of his boxer briefs.

“Good morning, my sweet sex kitten,” he says with a devilish grin.

You pull at the flannel covering your breasts from his view, now feeling slightly self-conscious from the level of exposure.

“Joel… I”

His index finger presses against your lips hushing you. Joel removes your arms and opens the flannel exposing your bare chest. He places his palm on your sternum, admiring the alluring vision that is your body. The dip of your curves reminds him of the gorgeous Jackson hills that sit right outside of his bedroom window. The glow of your delicate skin makes Joel quiver at the touch and the sunlight hitting your eyes makes them look like precious crystals.

There’s no word that could help describe you, in Joel’s eyes. Pretty… beautiful.. gorgeous… it’s not enough.

Ineffable is what you are to Joel Miller.

“I want to see you, babygirl. You never have to cover up for me”

Joel dips his head and kisses you on the mouth. You wrap your arms around his neck embracing his lips. It had only been a couple of hours since Joel kissed you, but the distance felt like an eternity. Joel moans into your mouth as his tongue peaks through the crevices of your lips.

“God honey, that was quite a show you put on just now” he utters, biting at your bottom lip.

“You liked watching me taste myself, Joel?”

“Mmhmm that was beyond sexy, babygirl … Can I?” Joel pleads looking down at her and back up at you.

You smile and kiss his lip, “I know you can, but may you?”

Joel chuckles, “Ohh, where are my manners, miss? May I?”

“Now, how can I say no to these baby browns?”

“You can’t, that’s the point” he scoffs.

You chuckle at his response, you love how witty he can be. Joel starts to make his way down under, but you feel the urge to confess something to him.

“Joel..”

“Yes, honey?” his southern drawl mutters.

You prop yourself on your elbows gazing at him. His tousled hair falls perfectly on his face creating a beautiful “rolled out of bed” look. You’re wondering if this is a good time to have a serious conversation with Joel when he’s half way in between your legs. But, you don’t want Joel to get the wrong idea of you; that all you want out of this is sex.

“I… I don’t want this to be just a one time thing.. between you and I. I do like you, Joel. I actually have for a while now.” You confess.

Joel gazes at you with the sweetest smile sported across his face. He slowly comes back up and brushes his hand on your soft cheek.

“You’re so sweet, kitten. I never expected to make this a one time fling. I can’t pretend, to just see you as only a friend”

Your heart is ready to burst out of your chest, knowing that Joel yearns for you too, but then anxiety rears its ugly head. How will people in Jackson react when they see you holding hands with Joel Miller? How will Tommy and Maria take it? And Ellie! Will school become an awkward space if Joel is dating his daughter’s teacher? Knots start to form in your tummy causing discomfort.

“What are we gonna do?”

Joel can see a cloud of worry form in your eyes, he kisses your forehead and brushes his nose against yours.

“We’ll figure it out darlin’. Cross my heart” he gestures a cross on his chest, showing that you can trust him.

Joel always knows how to ease your mind, you know everything will work out with the help of time and patience. You glance at him with a soft smile and whisper, “Okay”

“Kitten, can we maybe talk more about this later? I might lose my mind if you don’t let me play with her”

You laugh and nod in approval. Joel nibbles along your jawline and down your neck making your squirm. He hisses and teeth playfully bite along your skin like a vampire making you shriek. Your hands try to push his face away but he’s just too damn strong.

Laughing uncontrollably you yell, “Joel, don’t! That’s my tickle spot!”

He adores bringing you joy, even in the silliest ways.

“I bet I can find another tickle spot” he whispers on your skin making your breath hitch.

“You wanna bet, Mr. Miller?” Joel’s cock twitches at your teasing request.

Joel’s lips paint passionate kisses along your chest, he looks at you with the most devilish grin before pulling the soft navy blue sheets over himself. All that’s visible of Joel is a silhouette of his physique traveling lower and lower down the bed. His hot breath traces along your skin making you gasp and hungry for him.

Your breath hitches when you feel his strong hands caress your meaty thighs. You prop yourself on your elbows watching the sheets slowly move up and down. Your body jolts when you feel his warm mouth kiss your inner thighs.

“Mmm Joel… Joel” your desperate aching moan is like a symphony to Joel. Sharing his mouth love to the other thigh, he positions himself in between you. His nose brushes up against your panties taking in your sweet natural scent. Joel grunts and slowly slides your panties off your body. He fists them in his strong palm, lucky for him he has another parting gift to take home.

“Mmmm, baby” you hear him groan under the sheets. You want to watch him mouth fuck your cunny; you grab the sheets pulling them up and he glances up at you.

“Hey, no peeking” Joel says grinning. You chuckle and pull the covers back down. Your head sinks into the pillow. You gently caress the sheets to calm the butterflies. You feel Joel’s breath on her, he gently blows on your cunny. The cool air makes you shiver. He loves her, he’s in love with her.

Joel takes two fingers and slides inside your dripping folds making you sing out in pleasure. You gasp his name as he rhythmically fingers you. Your cunny makes sweet sloppy sounds from the wetness delivered by Joel. His thick fingers send electrifying ecstasy all over your body, you feel like a goddess being worshipped.

Joel’s veins pop out of his muscular arm, and he can’t take it. He has to taste her. With his fingers inside you, he lets out a low growl before diving in. Your knees buck from his mouth and finger duo.

“OhhhmyyyGOOODDDD” you cry out. Back arching, nails clawing the bedpost, eyes rolling…Joel Miller is a god in the sheets.

“Ohhhgoooddd… right thereeee” you whine as Joel devours you. Your mind becomes hazy from the overwhelming wave of pleasure, you wonder if passing out is a possibility.

Joel dives deeper slurping up the delicious juices pouring out of your cunny.

Core tightening, walls clenching, you’re like a rocket ship ready for take off.

“Joel… I’m gonna..I..”

Your heart goes cold when you don’t feel him anymore. The sheets ruffle as you watch Joel’s figure maneuver back up. The mix of pain and pleasure from hitting the peak of orgasm is too much. You were seconds away from coming and he decides to torture you.

Grabbing his shoulders you plead, “Ohh no no please, Joel. Why did you stop? I was so close”

Tears fill your eyes from built up pleasure ripping through your body. Joel kisses you. “I don’t want you to come yet baby. I wanna have you for hours”

“Joel…I need… ” you whimper trying to calculate words.

“What do you need, baby?” he pants.

“I need… m-more Joel I need to feel your cock”

“Yea?” Joel says mockingly.

You nod as a way of answering.

He grabs your chin making you stare back into his eyes, this is a different side of him you’ve never seen before.

“Use your words, kitten” he demands.

You’re getting a taste of his animalistic side; you love it.

“Yess… please baby” you whimper.

“I love when you get naughty for me. Show me what a bad girl you can be” Joel growls in your neck.

You graze his ear and bite your lip, “Fuck me hard, Joel. I wanna come on your thick cock”

Without saying a word, Joel grins and turns you on your tummy. Facing the wooden bed posts, you prop yourself on your elbows. Joel’s warm calloused hands pull your hips up making your back arch. Face down ass up, Joel glides his hands on your perfectly round ass and makes his way to your back.

“Are you comfortable, kitten?”

“Mmmhmm”

Joel grabs your hair and plants a slap on your ass making you yelp.

“WORDS, BABY”

“Y-yes, Joel” you whine.

Joel groans as he grabs for his shaft. He traces it along your soaking wet opening. Gliding it up and down escalating your anticipation. Joel grazes his lips along your ear. His southern drawl creates goosebumps along your skin.

“I’m gonna make her scream for me, honey… but you have to promise me something” Joel orders.

“Okay…” you whimper trying to concentrate on his voice.

“You won’t climax until I tell you to. Understand?”

“Yes” you answer breathlessly.

Joel kisses and licks your spine and his cock slowly glides into you filling the walls of your tight cunny. He groans when he feels your tight warm walls pull him in. Being in this position allows Joel to go deeper than you could have thought. You claw at the wooden bedpost and sink your teeth into the pillowcase.

Joel’s hips start rolling, still holding you by the hair his other hand grabs at your hips keeping you in place. You love hearing the moans Joel makes as he’s filling you. You feel his lips trace along your back.

“My naughty lil kitten” his southern accent dark and rough.

“Mmm.. fuck.. yes, Joel. Destroy me!”

Joel hips snap into your backside as he thrusts harder. Your core is on fire and you’re fighting every feeling to not collapse on his cock.

“Joel, please… please let me come” you beg him.

“No, baby”

“Joel, pleaseee” desperately whimpering.

A part of you doesn’t think you can hold on, but you want to know what he’ll do if you don’t listen to him. A risk worth taking.

“God I love when you beg” he growls.

You gasp as his thrusts become harder making the bed shake. Deep down, you wish he tied you up.

“Joel” you whine gripping tightly onto the bed post.

“Don’t you dare” he barks behind you.

Joel dips his body on top of yours. His chest hugging your back. He kisses your spine and moves your hair to one side exposing your neck. He plants sloppy kisses on your skin. You turn your head to look at him.

“Bite me” you moan. You can tell he’s surprised by your request. Clearly, you’re not the innocent teacher he thought you were.

Joel growls and you feel his teeth dig into your shoulder. It makes you shriek with pleasure. He does it again, this time with more pressure.

“Mmmmffuccckkk” you whimper. Your hands find his hip and you dig your nails into his skin expressing the unspeakable pleasure you’re enduring. But, you remain his good girl and fight your urge to climax.

With one hand tangled in your curls and the other snaking around your tummy, Joel pulls your body up having him hug you from behind. His breath panting in your ear and his hands gliding along your breast, you know you're not going to last much longer. His strong hand kneads your breast and you overlap your hand onto his. Your fingers intertwine grasping tight onto one another.

“Ohhh honey, I love your body.” Joel growls thrusting inside you hitting your walls. He kisses your shoulder and glides his hand on your waist and hip.

“Joel…Y… you’re amazing” you pant breathlessly.

Joel nibbles along your ear and down your cheek. He watches as a smile curves onto your face.

“Do I fuck you the best, kitten?” Joel utters in your ear. Giving a slow but deep thrusts, making you moan.

“Mmm..yes” you whimper, throwing your head back on his shoulder.

“Say it”

“You fuck me the best, Joel”

He turns your head kissing your mouth. You say it again, “You fuck me the best”

“You fuck me the best….you fuck me the best… you fuck me the best” you whimper over and over with every long thrust.

“Please… Joel” he knows you’re aching to climax.

“Come for me, sweet girl” he sings in your ear.

“Come for me…”

“Come with me” you whisper. You want to share your euphoria together.

Your climax hits like a freight train. You grasp his hand and tug at his curls. The most melodious sound Joel has ever heard escapes your lips. Your body spasms as if you’re going to fall forward, Joel never lets go of you.

“I’ve got you, baby girl”

And with that, Joel loses himself. His gaze is hazy and all he can do is focus on your touch. Every time is more intense than the last. His grunts sing in your ears, you adore hearing him reach his high.

You’re both boneless… breathless… dazed in the after math. You loosen your grip and turn to him. He gently kisses your mouth and trickles down your neck.

“I’m dizzy,” you gasp. Joel chuckles behind you. He slowly maneuvers himself out releasing a low grunt. You guide him down next to you on the mattress, the cool sheets hitting your warm skin. He spoons your body making you feel two times smaller than you are. You nuzzle into your pillow letting out a soft sigh. You turn your clock to see it read 8:22.

“Do ya have patrol today” Joel questions.

“Not on Sundays, but I help out with dinner duty. You?”

“Yea..not till 4:30 though”

You turn towards him and gaze at his warm eyes. They’re still glowing with excitement. You smile and plant a kiss on his lips. Joel pulls the covers over both of you and caresses your face. The moment is interrupted by a loud rumble coming from your tummy. You giggle and bury your head into your pillow out of self consciousness.

“You gonna answer that, darlin’?” Joel jokes.

You look up at him.

“Breakfast?”

“Depends, what’s on the menu?” Joel swipes his hand along your wet folds making you gasp. For a man in his 50s, he sure has a vigorous sexual appetite.

“As much as I’d love you to, I need a cool down, cowboy”

Joel smiles and kisses you. You kiss him back, your hands resting on his face. The moment is broken when Joel quickly jolts up out of bed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Did you hear that?” he questions quickly.

You sit up on the bed. You both hear it this time, the door bell rings and a familiar voice calls from outside, “Hello?”

It’s Ellie.

“SHIT!” You squeal. You both jump out of bed and frantically look for something to cover yourself.

“Here” Joel throws your red fuzzy bathrobe at you.

“Be right there!” You yell downstairs.

You wrap the robe around your body and fix your hair.

“Do I look okay?” You question Joel.

“Yea… walkin’ a little funny though. What were ya’ doin’?” Joel jokes.

“Shut up” you snap back.

“Stay up here”

“Whatta I look like an idiot?” He questions.

“Ya really want me to answer that?” You have jokes too.

He nudges you and gives one last kiss. You rush down the stairs and give one last look in the mirror. The lock clicks and you casually open the front door; the cold air stings your face. Ellie and Maria stand on the other side.

“Hey guys! Sorry, I was about to take a shower and didn’t hear the door.” Trying not to seem too enthusiastic.

“Hi! Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but have you seen Joel? I came home this morning, and the house looked untouchable which is so unlike him” Ellie explains.

“Ohhh.. maybe he’s on patrol? I know he was talking to someone last night about switching shifts” You’re impressed by your quick thinking.

Maria says, “We checked. Nobody has seen him. I remember y’all walked home together after the bar….” her eyebrow slightly raised.

You’re not sure if she can sense any suspicion, she has an amazing poker face. You remember his cowboy hat and jacket are in the kitchen and shift your body in a way to block the view.

“Yeah, I remember him telling me, on our walk home, how half of Jackson’s been having issues with their heaters. I’m sure he’s probably at someone’s house. You know Joel, he’s always gotta be doin’ something” you laugh.

Ellie and Maria let out a giggle agreeing that’s definitely something Joel would do, always coming to the rescue.

“But if I see him, I’ll let him know y’all were lookin’ for him. If you want Ellie, I can beat ‘em up for makin’ ya worry”

She laughs, “Thanks! Well, I’ll see ya around”

Ellie and Maria say goodbye and go on their way. You give a quick wave and smile as you close the door. You lean up against the door and exhale deeply.

“Coast is clear” you holler.

Joel comes down the stairs in his jeans and flannel. His stomps echoing off the steps.

“What was that talk about beatin’ me up, little lady?”

“Put em’ up, old man” you say playfully, raising your fist to jab.

Joel laughs and you tug his flannel bringing him in for a hug. He wraps his big arms around your curves. You breathe in his cologne that’s clung to his shirt.

“So.. breakfast..?” You question looking up at him.

Joel hums and his forehead connects to yours. “I’d love to… but I think it’s best if I get goin’. Spies might be onto us”

You know he should leave, but you’d give anything for him to stay. You pout your lips and flaunt the blue doe eyes hoping it’ll make him stay for another hour.

“Pleaseeee. I’ll make whatever you want”

Joel smirks and palms your face. Brushing his thumb on your cheek he gives you a kiss.

“Don’t do that to me darlin’. You’re making me feel bad”

“So it’s working..” again pouting your lip out.

He chuckles and cherishes your natural beauty. He wonders how you can look like a supermodel in an apocalyptic world.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen, kitten”

You nuzzle your cheek into his palm and kiss it.

“You clean up good yourself, Mr. Miller….if you have to go I understand”

He kisses the tip of your nose, “Trust me… if I didn’t have to, I’d stay here forever”

“Maybe.. I can bring you and Ellie some dinner, later”

“I won’t say no to that."

You kiss his sharp nose and brush your nose against his.

“Alright, get outta here before Maria forms a search party”

Joel laughs walking into the kitchen to grab his jacket. His hat is left on the table.

“Whoa, you’re missing something, cowboy” you say waving his hat in the air.

Joel snickers and takes it from you. He glances at it and then gently places the cowboy hat on your head.

“Keep it for now, cowgirl. Looks better on you anyway”

You giggle and adjust the hat on your head. You glide your hand on his flannel and look up at him.

“Maybe it can come in handy for our next sleep over..”

Joel smirks, “Ohh really”

“Mmmhmmm”

“See you around, cowgirl”

“Be safe on patrol, cowboy”

You open your front door and Joel walks out into the cold Jackson air. He turns around one last time, killing you with a wink. You smirk and blow a kiss before closing the door. Joel walks out in the freezing Jackson air. He balls his fists into his jacket and caresses the two pairs of panties he slipped into his pocket. You’re with him always, now...

Tagging my hunnies: @baronessvonglitter @mani-pedro @jazzy11scorpio @pascalispunkczechia @deaneatspie @littledes1re @whoaitspascal87 @whocaresstillthelouvre @fairylights-throughthemist @iamladyp @kyloispunk @joeldarling @heavens-whore @iamsherlocked-1998 @chasingthepoguelife

#joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #delulu #joel miller x female reader #older man <3 #female writers #romance #smut #angst

72 notes · View notes