#I promise it is fluff and cute and sweet

[blueberrywhale123]

Meet the Parents

Hi! So my patient Violetta fans, I finally got the chapter out! It's a two-parter because Vilu had a lot of emotions that she wanted to talk about 😅 hope you don't mind. I wanted to have a lot of the dinner part so that had to turn into it's own chapter. hope you like it! I posted it on my Ao3 account too! It's under blueberrywhale with the same title.

~~~~~~

Chapter 1

The bright afternoon sun streamed through the trees and hit the bold colors that painted the face of the large building, making it glow vibrantly. The building’s name was pasted over the front, proudly displaying “Studio 21” for all to see. The studio’s entire look and atmosphere - from the kaleidoscope of coordinating colors and abstract designs to the constant stream of music seeping through the walls - would alert even the most unobservant to the fact that it was a school for the arts. It was a prestigious and well-loved school - meant for those young people who were truly passionate about making music their career - and prided itself on the dedication both student and teacher applied to their craft.

Inside, the students who had completed all their lessons were heading home for the day, herds of people swarmed the lockers and the doors as they packed and left their precious sanctuary of musical delight. Four students had clustered around their lockers: Maxi, Camila, Francesca, and Violetta.

“I totally aced that assignment, you guys! I just know it!” Maxi’s smile was infectious, and the girls all returned his grin with equal force. He had been complaining about his composition for Beto for the past two weeks, and it felt like the weight of its competition hadn’t only been lifted from his shoulders.

“And what are you planning on doing to celebrate this achievement, musical genius?” Francesca hooked her arm over her locker door to lean forward, swinging with the hinge gracefully as she shot him a cheeky smile.

“Sleep!” Maxi fell against the wall, head tilting back and eyes closing as he tucked his hands by the side of his head in a gesture representing the blissful state he wanted to be in.

“Are you crazy?” Camila yelped, a big smile stretching her lips, “We should go out! Have some fun. What do you say? Arcade? Karaoke? Roller-blading? Roller-blading karaoke? I’m open to suggestions.”

“So long as it’s not where Luca can bother me, I’m in,” Francesca countered, finger pointed in the air to emphasize.

“Deal,” Camila and Francesca shook hands and turned to Maxi with devious grins.

Maxi took five seconds to cave, his laughter ringing through his surrender. “Alright, sounds fun.” He turned to his left. “You in, Vilu?”

Violetta had been watching her friends silently, her mouth pulling upwards in a fond contented smile. When their eyes locked on her, Violetta’s smile turned rueful with a pinch of her eyebrows and pursing of her lips.

“Sorry, León’s … well - León’s taking me to dinner to meet his parents.” 

The words tumbled from her lips and Violetta only managed to blink before Camila and Francesca tackled Violetta in a hug, pulling back to bounce in place and squeal, heedless of any onlookers’ strange stares. Maxi hung back, just as happy but wise enough to keep himself safe from the whirlwind that was Camila and Francesca. Violetta’s cheeks flushed a soft pink and her eyes shone with anxious excitement as she nibbled on the bottom of her lip.

Francesca spoke with her cheek pressed against Violetta’s hair, “You definitely get a pass. I’m going to need as many details as you can give me afterward. Understand?”

Camila gripped Violetta by her shoulders, staring deep into her eyes. “Vilu-” she said earnestly- “this is really big. Like, crazy big. You and León are heading to a different level now. You’re meeting his parents. This is so big.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Francesca ran her hand comfortingly down Violetta’s arm, a mothering smile on her face. “Camila’s right, this is great.”

“Excited for you, Vilu,” Maxi squeezed his way through to the other side of Violetta.

Her friends’ happiness for her left Violetta light and giddy. She gripped each of their hands in turn, giving them a gentle squeeze to help convey her feelings. The weight of the evening had been on her shoulders all day. What usually happens when you meet the parents of your amazingly wonderful boyfriend? Surely Mr. and Mrs. Vargas were expecting someone worthy of their son. Would they be measuring her against their idea of who was good enough for León? What if the Vargas didn’t like her? This was the only worry that Violetta could calm; León had broken up with Ludmila of all people just this year. If anything, all she had to do was make a better impression than Ludmila and all would be well.

And yet, even that wasn't enough to assuage her fears. Violetta had no delusions about her conversation skills; she got far too in her head and tried to create the perfect conversation only for it to fall flat a majority of the time. She stumbled over her words and had the hardest time initiating any topic of substance with adults. No, no, Violetta was much better at being talked at.

At the very least, she could hope that Mr. and Mrs. Vargas wouldn't be as overbearing as her father. León wouldn't be looking forward to it as much as he was if that were the case.

“I can't believe you’re meeting his parents already,” Camila mused. “Time really flies. It feels like just yesterday when you were telling us about your first kiss.”

“They grow up so fast,” Maxi crooned, tugging gently on the side of Violetta’s hair. Violetta laughed with Francesca as she swatted his hand away.

“You’ve got to try and make a good impression,” Camila said.

Francesca frowned, “Vilu is very charming, Cami. She’s like an innocent little lamb.”

“Of course she is. That’s not what I meant,” Camila waved away Francesca’s defense. “I just mean that this is a really important step so you want to make an extra effort. Sure, you don’t need their blessing or permission or all that, but it’s so much easier to date someone when their parents don’t hate your guts. Get it? Just saying it’s good to run onto the battlefield after you’ve strategized and have proper weaponry. Am I making any sense?”

A battlefield? Violetta’s mouth went dry at the comparison. 

“No,” Francesca furrowed her brows in confusion. “What does a battlefield have to do with any of this?”

“Oh, you know. They want to ask you everything from your hobbies to how many cows you’re able to give in exchange for their son’s hand in marriage.” Camila wrinkled her nose like she had a personal grudge against this imaginary question in particular. “And it’s like a landmine, one wrong answer and they’ve decided you’re the worst, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

Oh no. Violetta hadn't felt this nervous since she had tried to run away from her singing audition. The very tempting idea to run away now dangled in her mind despite knowing she wouldn't take it. This was so important to León and she would suffer through it if she had to. Would it be rude to refuse to speak the entire dinner? What if she feigned losing her voice? All Violetta knew for certain was that she would feel the smallest she ever had at the dinner table that night. Every flaw that she possessed came stumbling forward in her mind. You’re too shy, they whispered. You don’t have enough experience, they mocked. They’ll think you need León to do everything, they jeered. In the wake of all that awaited her tonight, Violetta was woefully underprepared.

“Vilu, you okay?”

Violetta drug herself up from the depths of her mind and saw Francesca huddled in her face, a frown pulling her features into the very picture of concern.

“Yeah … yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous, I guess.”

“That’s totally normal,” Francesca rubbed up and down Violetta’s arm but she paid it little mind. Some of her anxiety must have leaked through across her face because Francesca spun around with a disapproving frown. “Cami, look at what you did!”

Camila turned abruptly from where she and Maxi had bent their heads together, murmuring about where to hang out later. Violetta watched as Camila took in Francesca and herself, watching as the state Violetta was in tipped her off to the severity of her anxiety over the event. With a sweet croon, Camila swept near and took both Violetta’s hands in hers.

“Girlie, sorry, I just got a bit overboard. But Fran’s right, you’re charming and sweet, they’ll love you.”

“You don’t have to say that, Cami,”

“But she’s right,” Francesca said firmly. “They’d have to be fools not to like you.”

 Maxi butted in, “And León’s parents aren’t going to ban him from dating someone he likes. I mean, he dated Ludmila.”

~~~~~~~~~

If Violetta could wish for a superpower in that every moment, it would have been the power to stop time. The ticking of her clock had continued to push on with merciless speed no matter how much she glared and begged for the hands to cease. Her room was a mess, piles of clothing littered the bed, her desk, and any surface she could find room on; nearly every item she owned was out in a haphazard display as she endlessly circled through different combinations, trying to find the perfect outfit.

This one was too short. This one was too casual. This one was too formal.

Violetta would have thrown herself across her bed in anguish if it wasn't so piled high. As it was, Violetta decided that burrowing her face into her pillow was an adequate replacement.

She was still buried in the fluffy plush of her pillow, a silent scream on her lips when a hesitant knock rapped against her locked bedroom door.

“Coming,”

German stood in the open doorway, looking for all the world that he would rather be doing anything else than getting ready to send Violetta off to meet the parents of her boyfriend. “Are you almost ready, Vilu? I was hoping to talk with you for a minute.”

Violetta groaned in dispair. German jerked back as if the sound had shocked him with a current of electricity.

“What’s wrong, Sweetie?”

“I won’t be ready until I have something to wear, Dad,”

“Oh, having trouble?”

Violetta withheld the eye-roll that she wanted to make, choosing to simply walk back toward her pile of clothes. Why did it always feel like her words were falling short at some invisible barrier when it came to her father; she could talk and talk, but he only ever seemed to hear half of what she said, and even then, it was hardly what she meant for him to understand. She left the door open, however, and German stepped through into her room after a few seconds of deliberation.

“I know, I’ll clean it later. Promise.”

But German did not say anything. His eyes roamed the room; the piles, the walls, and finally Violetta herself were swept along in his gaze. Violetta watched him in turn, taking note of the growing lines gathering on his forehead and around his mouth. It was a look she knew well, though it had more than one outcome.

“Your mother had a white dress with flowers all over,” Whatever silent war he had raged within himself had been concluded and the lines along his face softened, though they merely took on the mask of dull heartache. “She wore it when she went to meet my parents. She was so nervous, she kept twisting her skirt over her finger. Wore a hole in it before dinner was done.”

Violetta smiled, mirroring the distant grief that her father’s involuntary smile possessed, if only different. But if one thing was similar between their sadness, it was that neither felt the time they had with Maria was enough.

“You look beautiful in anything, Sweetie,”

Violetta turned her smile onto her father before turning to root through her pile on the bed. She emerged with a pale blue dress with little white flowers scattered across the fabric, the closest thing to what German described. Her mother might not be there to see her off, but at the very least, Violetta could feel like Maria was with her throughout the whole thing. Just the touch of the fabric on her skin was enough to ease the churning in her stomach.

“Thanks, Dad,” and Violetta hoped that he could hear the many things she was thanking him for in her two simple words.

German smiled, kissed her head, and walked out the door. Violetta pretended not to notice the tears he swiped away from his eyes as he turned out of sight.

Her outfit chosen, Violetta sprung into action. She slipped her white heels on, brushed out her hair, and deftly applied her bit of makeup. By the time she had double and triple-checked that everything was in order, her phone chimed with a message from León announcing his arrival.

The text gave her wings and Violetta was flying down the stairs just as the front door was closing behind León. Already breathless in anxious excitement, what little breath she had was caught in her throat at the sight of him; his clothes were smart yet comfortable, hugging him in a way that flattered his form and added to the effortlessly charming confidence that laced his every move. She paused for a second or two on the stairs to take him in but he caught her stare and she almost averted her gaze, conscious of the swirling heat that enveloped her neck and cheeks. But Violetta didn't look away and so was rewarded with watching León’s momentary lapse as he stood - dare she say - stunned by her. His reaction sent a thrill through her just as much as it embarrassed her to be the cause of it.

It took a moment to notice that Ramallo and German were also present. The latter was talking about curfews as sternly as if it was the first time that León had received this spiel; Ramallo made no attempt to stop his boss aside from sparing Violetta an amused look. León, for his part, endured the conversation with grace, once more reassuring German that Violetta would be home by his required time like he did every time.

“Good,” German was saying, satisfied with his reprisal of the rules. “Do you want anything to drink or eat, León? I think Olga is making chocolate chip cookies.”

Violetta hurtled herself forward with all speed to León’s side and latched on to his arm just as León was taking a breath to answer. “Dad,” Violetta moaned, stretching out her one word so amply lace it with chiding, “we have to go or we’ll be late.”

León nodded exaggeratedly beside her, his hand lifted to gesture to Violetta as if to draw German’s attention to some wonderful point she had made.

German flung out his hands in surrender, his words of acquiescence bubbling up with a light and unconcerned air. Violetta smiled and embraced her father, kissing him quickly on the cheek before bidding Ramallo goodbye as well. León and German shook hands.

“Bye, German. Don’t worry, I’ll return her in one piece,”

They were halfway through the door when German hastily announced he wanted to drive them so they wouldn't be late. Ramallo was by his side in the blink of an eye, his hand gently laid on German’s shoulder. Steering him off, Ramallo promised León had it all sorted; why, he’d even brought his own transportation for the special occasion. Ramallo shot a wink over his shoulder as he nudged the door closed with his foot.

Violetta and León’s eyes met and amusement brimmed behind their eyes, lips pursed to hold back the quiet laughter threatening to spill out. León took her hand softly in his.

“Ready,”

Violetta took a deep breath and nodded. León’s smile was sunshine itself - warm and nourishing - as he slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow and wound it around his forearm. They scurried down the driveway and Violetta almost stopped short at the sleek red and black motorcycle that was leaning on its kickstand just tucked out of sight behind the house’s wall. No wonder Ramallo had been so intent on keeping German in the house. León led them up to the contraption; he let go of her hand for a moment to swing himself over the seat and pull the two helmets into his lap. Settled, León grinned at her but trepidation kept Violetta’s feet firmly planted on the ground. Her stomach roiled and her mind whirled.

“León, you’ve been driving for a while, right?” She didn't bother to hide her fear as she stared unblinkingly at the bike.

It did not go unnoticed.

“Since I was sixteen,” León’s answer was soft, his eager smile sliding off. She felt his warm strong hand take hers but he didn't tug her closer, just wiggled one of her fingers to get her eyes on him instead of the bike.

“I figured we’ve already conquered one type of bike, why not the other?”

Violetta was still unconvinced. This was not the same as learning to ride a simple peddle bike. “You’re sure I won’t fall off?”

León grinned, crooked and mischievous, “Only if you don't hold on to me really tight.”

Violetta huffed a laugh at his bouncing eyebrows and made up her mind. Though she was still tense as a plank of wood, Violetta plopped the helmet over her hair with care and settled behind León, her front pressed against his back, arms locked around his middle in a grip of steel. He wouldn't have brought the motorcycle if he didn’t think he could handle the drive and really, new experiences were never as scary as they could be when León was with her.

Before he started the bike, León grew still and serious. “We can walk if you’d rather. It’s no big deal.”

His offer, so earnest and given without a thought except to make her comfortable, was enough to swell her heart with love and bolster her courage. Always so thoughtful. Violetta bumped her helmet against his. “I’m good. You’re with me.”

León patted her hand and turned forward. The engine reeved to life, the bike rumbling beneath them. Violetta vibrated under the machine's steady droning, the feeling oddly reminiscent of the way the bass thrummed through the stage floor despite the motorcycle being far louder by far. She squeezed León once and he was off; the wind pelting against her legs, the neighborhood whipping by, and her heart pounding with the exhilaration of the freeing speed.

[amelia-yap]

Hiii First of, I looooove your Dragon Weiss AU and designs for her and he fam. So I was thinking, What would it look like if Whitley (wanting to be a protective baby brother that he is) wanted to intimidate the rest of RBY and showed them his full dragon form, but it doesn't quite work cuz he is fluffy and way smaller compared to his sisters so he looks huggable instead of menacing?

Again, love ya work smuch!

yeah! he is friend shaped! Both schneeblings are absolutely protective of weiss (she suffers a lot in my timeline) (favorite character curse) i think he would be a bit self-conscious of his dragon because he's fluffy. he lets winter do all the intimidating , he does all the verbal threats he wants!!

[the-ineffable-dance]

Gift For SpaceGiraffe

It's @nightshiftcaffiene's birthday!! I wanted to surprise her with a fic featuring an OC of mine that she really likes, Jophiel from my River of Stars fic!

Also a huge thank you to @kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon for a lovely beta, and also @happynachohologram and @on1occasionfork for cheer reads and support! And especial huge thanks to @sightkeeper for this amazing artwork! Jophiel looks AMAZING!!

Title: Let My Beloved Come To His Garden Rating: G Word Count: 2075 Summary:

Aziraphale and his best friend Archangel Jophiel examine the Garden before the humans arrive to admire their hard work and miss lost friends.

Excerpt:

“Um… Jophiel, dear, what are you doing?” Aziraphale twisted his hands, glancing anxiously between the sky above them and Jophiel as he slipped free of the sandal. “You know what Gabriel said… about the temples of our bodies and … erm, the base earth…”

“We just won’t tell him,” Jophiel replied, waving his hand to disperse the thought of the Supreme Archangel as though it was as trivial a matter as a group of gnats. “Come, Aziraphale! ‘The base earth’… this whole place is divine!” With a cheeky grin he placed his bare foot upon the sand and pressed down, feeling the sand smoosh up between his toes. He laughed, delighted, and quickly pulled his foot back to look at the print left behind.

“Look! Aziraphale! Do you see?” Laughter bubbling out of him, he began to dance around the wet sand, holding his robes up around his knees as he watched his footprints appearing behind him.

Read more here on AO3!!

@goodomensafterdark

[osamusriceballs]

The Accident - Part XIV

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: Alcohol

Words: ~ 2.3 k

About: Meeting Atsumu- not in the way you planned though >.<

Part I II -> Next Part

"How would you feel about maybe going out tonight? Hinata and Kageyama will be there too. They would love to see you again, y/n!" You press the phone against your ear and listen to Yachi's cheerful voice while you get a glass of water. "I'd rather stay at home, if that's alright with you." Yachi breaths out deeply at your reply, and you embarrassedly scratch the back of your head.

"That's okay. Is it... because you're still thinking about him?" She carefully asks, and your heart skips a beat when your thoughts drift to him.

She's talking about Atsumu, who still hasn't tried to contact you after more than a month- and you still stalk his Instagram every day, kind of hoping that he'll notice you. A part of you finds yourself very pathetic for that, but you know that you'll let him go eventually. Or at least you hope that you'll be able to. You still feel a pang in your heart whenever you receive a letter addressed to "Mrs. Miya" or when you look at the diamond ring that you finally put aside in a box in your nightstand.

"A bit, yeah. But it's not because of him. I'm just a bit tired. I'll probably go to bed early today."

She hums and hesitates for a second. "If you need me, or if you need to talk about him again, you know that you can always reach out to me, 'kay?" You smile fondly at her words, her concern for you making you feel a bit more at ease, because you know she'll always be on your side. "Thank you. Have fun and say hello to Hinata and Kageyama!"

"I will!"

You both say goodbye, and then you end the call. A relaxing night with a good TV show and a facial mask sounds just perfect to you. And this also might help you to get Atsumu off your mind.

xxx

The shrill ringing sound of your phone wakes you in the middle of the night, and you're alert when you blindly reach out for the phone and see the contact's name.

Osamu Miya is calling

You remember when he had given you his card back then at Onigiri Miya's while Atsumu was using the restroom, just in case anything ever happens, and you had saved his contact without giving it much thought but never reached out to him. Why would he call you in the middle of the night?

You hesitate but finally take the call.

"Hello?"

"Y/n? It's Osamu. I know you probably don't wanna talk to me too, but can I ask for a favor?"

You're in shock when you hear his familiar voice, even more so when you hear his request. "Uhm... what favor?"

"It's about—ya know. Tsumu. He's... kinda unstable ever since ya ignored him. I wanted—" You frown at his words and can't help yourself but to interrupt him.

"Wait a second. What do you mean ignored him?"

You sit up straight in your bed, all your fatigue gone instantly. "The message he left last week? Listen, I get it, he is an idiot, and he is a little pain in the ass, I wouldn't listen to him either."

You blink confused, having no clue what he's talking about and he seems to interpret your silence as agreement.

"Forget it. Y/n, the favor. Can ya come over at Onigiri Miya's? He's drunk and dumb, and I can't do this anymore. I don't know what'll happen if he keeps up with that attitude."

You hold your breath while you listen to him, and your jaw drops at his words. "I- I don't know what to say. If you really need me, I'll come. I don't know if I can be much of a help though."

"Yes. Yes, we need ya here. Ya need a taxi? I can get ya one." He is quick to offer and you hear him sigh in relief.

"Uhm... yes, that would be good. Thanks." You hear a loud shout in the back and the sound of a shattering glass and flinch subconsciously. Osamu curses and yells something inaudible before you hear him clearly again.

"You're welcome. Thank ya for helpin' me out."

"Uhm... sure? I Shouldn't you call his girlfriend though?" Osamu yells another time and you nervously fidget with the blanket in your hands.

"His girlfriend? Wait. Ya actually met her? No wonder ya never tried to reach out. Forget that freak real quick, just come here. He can explain that whole thing to ya."

You stay silent and then nod. This might be the only way for you to find out what really happened back then. "Okay. He'll have a lot of explaining to do, though."

"Sure."

You nod and hang up the call to get off the bed, your whole body feeling electrified. You definitely wouldn't have thought that you'd meet him so soon- leave alone tonight. But thinking about how you've been feeling during these past few weeks, you know that you need this. You need to talk to Atsumu Miya, and you need to talk to him tonight.

xxx

You take a deep breath when you finally stand in front of Onigiri Miya. Not exactly how you expected your Saturday night to go, but here you are. At 2:10 am.

You hesitantly reach out for the door and pause. How will he react when he sees you? Has Osamu already told him that you'll come? How will you react when you see him? You push the door open with sweaty palms and you're met with a sight you did not expect.

Atsumu is sitting at the counter of the restaurant with Osamu standing right next to him, both of them yelling at each other and Osamu wildly gesticulating and throwing a towel. You spot two bottles of beer behind them on the counter and you're pretty sure that they are both from Atsumu. They both don't seem to notice you, still too absorbed into their fight.

The door loudly falls shut behind you and both suddenly stop yelling—not that you could even get a single word—but the sudden silence is almost awkward. They turn to you, and they both just look at you like you're a ghost, without saying anything. You wait for a few seconds, but can't stand any more awkwardness when the silence stretches longer.

"Uhm... hello?"

Atsumu suddenly gets on his feet and approaches you, and you stand there frozen when you see his red-rimmed eyes and the way he's almost stumbling while trying to reach you. Before he gets even close to you, he suddenly falls to the ground, his feet clumsily tangling with each other.

"Atsumu!" you quickly get closer and kneel next to him, concern evident in your voice, and he heavily gets on his arms and lifts his upper body just enough to look at you. You stare wide-eyed at him, your hands hesitantly reaching out for him but pausing mid-air while you look down at him.

"Y/n?" It sounds a bit slurred, and you nod with a frown.

"Yeah." You awkwardly stare at him while he clumsily takes a seat on his ass, his eyes now shining happily while he watches you. "I missed ya." You force a smile on your lips that you hope doesn't look too bitter. He pinches his eyes together, and one of his hands comes to your cheek—almost slapping you, and you flinch a bit when he leans a bit closer, the strong alcohol in his breath evident when he exhales deeply. "Ya don't look happy." He looks sad while he watches your face, and you suddenly feel tears in your eyes. "I'm... you hurt me, Atsumu." You know that he is intoxicated, and that he is in no state to give you a proper answer, but you still needed to get this off your chest.

"Hurt?" he echoes, his eyebrows furrowed while he's trying to understand your words. "Don't wanna hurt ya."

You nod and gently take his hand to remove it from your cheek and hold it. He looks kind of cute sitting there on his ass, and you simply stare at him, a part of you wanting to cry while another part wants to yell at him, but you just stay silent.

You hear someone clear his throat and look at Osamu standing behind him and watching you both attentively. "Don't wanna interrupt, but I wanna go home. I couldn't get him to leave tonight. It's gotten worse since last week. Since that message he left ya."

"What message?" You frown and direct your attention to Osamu. He raises an eyebrow and gestures towards Atsumu. "The one in which he pathetically asked ya to talk to him?"

You shake your head. "I didn't get a message from him."

"Oh." You look blankly at Osamu, and he looks blankly at you. Atsumu's hand suddenly tightens around you, and he whines cutely. "Y/n! Talk to me- yer here for me!" Osamu rolls his eyes and sighs deeply.

"I'm sorry. I was just so annoyed, couldn't stand him. It's fine if ya don't wanna give me a hand here."

"No, I can... I can help you out. What do you want me to do?" You try to ignore how your skin prickles where Atsumu starts to rub circles on the back of your hand, something that feels surprisingly way too intimate for you.

"Can ya help me get him home? I can get ya a taxi or- wait. Do you have a driver's license?"

You nod, and Osamu smiles happily. "Ya wanna drive his car then? Don't worry about the insurance, it's all good. You're officially married after all." He snorts at that and grabs Atsumu's bag to search for the keys. "It's only fair that ya get to drive his damn car then."

Your eyes go wide when you think about driving Atsumu's luxurious car, but you know that Atsumu does not live too far away, so you hesitantly nod, thinking about how nice Osamu has always been to you and how you want to help him out of this misery. And since you're already here, you can at least help him get Atsumu back.

You turn to Atsumu and try to smile as sweetly as you can. "Atsumu? Will you come with me then?" Atsumu seems to have a hard time understanding what you want from him, but finally nods and grabs your hand tighter while he tries to get on his feet. Osamu is quick to come from behind and to pull on his shoulders until he's fully standing, and you raise your brows when you see Atsumu barely pulling himself together. "I'll help ya get him in the car. I need to close the store; will you manage on your own after that? You can call if you need me."

You nod wearily and watch him carry Atsumu basically to the front door, when Atsumu starts complaining. "Y/n, come with us—" he whines and grabs your hand tighter, and you actually smile a bit when he's pouting adorably. "I'm here. Don't worry."

It feels like an eternity to get Atsumu in the car when he calls for you every few seconds and wants to make sure you're still with him, but Osamu finally managed to get Atsumu on the passenger seat where he starts snoring after a few moments.

Osamu sighs and rubs his eyes. "If he's not waking up when yer at his place, ya can call me. I'll take care of him then."

You nod and take the car keys with a slight hint of nervousness. You're just glad that the streets are basically empty at this time, so it should be fine for just a few minutes of driving. And technically, you're still his wife, so this should be fine, even if you scratch it accidentally. Osamu looks at you and nods, and you grab the keys tighter. "Thank you." Osamu opens the car door for you, and you slowly get on the seat. "I really appreciate it. Yer gettin' a free meal when yer comin' to Onigiri Miya next." You softly laugh at his comment and nod. "I'll come back to that offer."

He grins and yawns tiredly. "Drive safely."

You turn on the engine, and you wave at him. "You too. See ya."

"See ya."

xxx

The ride went smoothly, and you couldn't be more thankful when you finally park the car in the spacious garage. Atsumu has simply been snoring next to you, just mumbling a few inaudible things every now and then and the streets were basically empty at this time. You exit the car and open the door on his side, softly shaking his shoulder. "Atsumu? Can you come with me? Atsumu?" You coo, trying to softly wake him up, and he finally opens his eyes, still groggy and sleepy. "Y/n?"

"Yes, it's me. Will you come with me?"

He seems to have a hard time understanding what you want from him again, but he nods.

"Come here." You wrap Atsumu's arm around your shoulders and desperately pull him with you, and he finally gives in and lets you take him out of the car. "Y/n... missed ya. Yer gonna stay the night? Ya can have my bed. We can share. Share with my pretty- wife." He hiccups, and you take a deep breath to suppress your feelings. He sounds so genuine and cute, you almost want to believe his words. "Come on. We can talk about that later."

You have no idea how long it takes you to bring him to the elevator—more like drag him to the elevator—but you sigh in relief when you press the familiar number, even though the elevator has brought you so many painful memories by now. He mumbles some barely understandable words in your neck, his weight heavily resting on your body while you pull him with you as soon as the doors open.

"Come on, we're almost there."

"Hmm... coming." He lulls, following your direction, and you both finally make it around the corner—only to find someone already standing there. A familiar face that you hoped to never see again.

"You?"

[emmyrosee]

REVERIE

REVERIE STARLIGHT

HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

small atsumu thing bc he IS the loml and i had a thought~

gn!reader, lowercase intentional, fluff with a small trace of angst but it’s pure comfort.

“you know you’re always going to be my first choice, right?”

it was quiet in your bedroom up until those words were murmured. moonlight was the only thing making it possible to see the concerned, almost desperate look on his face. like he needed to get those words out right then or he’d combust.

“what?” you asked, not sure why he was bringing it up as you were both about to fall asleep.

“my first choice. it’s always going to be you.”

you were silent for a minute, touched by his words, more than you could handle, but still not understanding why he was bringing it up. he must have seen the confusion written on your face because he continued speaking.

“earlier when we were talking about our school days, you mentioned that you weren’t really anyone’s first choice, that it kind of followed you from elementary through to university.”

you understood where he was coming from now. you had only offhandedly mentioned it, not really dwelling on it for too long before jumping into a story about your favourite teacher. you had mostly learned to make peace with it after so many years of internalizing it, anyway.

had he been thinking about that all day?

your eyes welled with tears a bit and your lower lip wobbled. “tsum.”

“and I know what it feels like. or I did when I was a kid, anyway. so I just want you to understand that you’re my number one,” he placed a hand on your cheek and wiped away a stray tear. “you are my first pick for everything, my first choice always. I’d pick you first a million times over. and I’m always going to fight for you and defend you and be on your side. I mean that with everything I have. It’s a promise.”

more tears were flowing now, on both of your faces, and you had never felt more seen in your life. you hadn’t realized how much you longed to actually hear those words until they were coming out of someone’s mouth.

and not just anyone’s mouth, either- someone who loved you unconditionally, someone who understood you. you couldn’t be more grateful for someone like atsumu. you felt so at home with him.

you wrapped your arms around him as best you could while laying face to face on your sides and sobbed into his shoulder.

he just rubbed up and down your back and whispered sweet nothings to you as your cries died down. “i love you so much atsumu, you’re always going to be my first choice as well. i mean it.”

“thank you, baby. that means the world to me. I love you, too.” he sealed it with a tender kiss against your lips. you happily reciprocated, hands moving from around his neck to lay flat against his chest. the arm that was casually draped over your side pulled you closer.

you broke apart and looked into each other’s eyes for a moment before you sighed and snuggled up against his chest, letting sleep attempt to take over once again.

wow both miya twins in under 24hrs! this was SO comforting for me, I didn’t even know I still felt this way until I got the idea for it. I hope you enjoyed!! Please consider Reblogging and commenting <3

[aleksatia]

Possession, Obsession, Devotion: A Study in Five Men

Nope, I haven’t vanished. Super grateful for all your messages and the sweet support — seriously, thank you. Just swamped with work right now, so writing’s slowed down a bit. Still working on your requests, I promise! And I’m knee-deep in a pretty massive, emotionally wrecking angst based on a Songfic prompt. While that one’s cooking, I thought I’d drop another batch of my random writer notes — all bundled up in one chaotic little post.

CW/TW: Headcanons, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Love, Jealousy, Power Imbalance, Toxic Romance, Red Flags Treated as Romance, Intimacy with Control Undertones, Emotional Manipulation (Mild), Dubious Coping Mechanisms, Intense Emotional Dependency, Suggestive Themes, Mild Sexual Content, Unhealthy Attachment Framed as Devotion Genre: Romance-Infused, Erotically-Charged Drabbles with a Generous Side of Fluff Words Count: 8.6K

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Caleb’s Obsessed With You

1. You call another man “handsome” — even as a joke. You were teasing. Flirting, in that harmless, breezy way of yours. Caleb laughed. Then immediately kissed you like he needed to reassert territorial dominance with tongue and body weight. Funny how your jokes always end with your back against the wall and his hand on your throat. Lovingly.

2. You go to someone else for help instead of him. You needed tech support. A charger. Help moving the couch. And instead of calling your six-foot-two, military-trained, emotionally unstable boyfriend — you asked Xavier. Caleb didn’t say anything. Just stood in the doorway, watching, calculating how long it would take to move the entire solar system to make sure you never do that again.

3. You don’t sit on his lap when there’s clearly space.You chose the chair. Next to him. Not on him. He’s not mad. No, no. He's just questioning the entire fabric of your connection and whether you’ve lost all sense of instinct. And when you finally realize and climb into his lap? He sighs like a man being restored to life.

4. You post a photo where you're not touching him.Nice shot. Great lighting. Cute outfit. But why is he two feet away and not glued to your side like a shadow with military clearance? His arm belongs around your waist. His hand belongs on your thigh. And your caption? Should’ve been his name, followed by a possessive noun.

5. You forget to wear his dog tags. He left them for you. Carefully. On your nightstand. The same tags he’s worn through hell. And you? Walked out the door wearing a cute sweater and nothing that says “belonging to Colonel Caleb.” He’ll never say a word. He’ll just strip you slow the second you get home and fasten them back around your neck himself. With teeth.

5 Lies Caleb Tells Himself About You

1. “I don’t care that she uses my toothbrush.”You could take a fresh one. You don’t. You reach for his, same as always — like that handle belongs to you more than to him. He mutters something about germs. Then watches you rinse with that smug little smile. And later, when you're asleep, he moves it back to your side of the sink. Right where you like it.

2. “She can wear whatever she wants.”And you do. His shirt. His flight jacket. That tiny black top you swear is “practical.” He acts unbothered. Says nothing. But the second someone else looks too long? He stands behind you. One hand on your waist. That casual kind of possessive that feels like a warning wrapped in warmth.

3. “I don’t need her to text me when she gets home.”You’re a grown woman. A Hunter. You’ve neutralized things with more teeth than common sense. You say “Don’t wait up.” He says “Sure.” Then checks his phone every ten minutes like it's a heartbeat monitor and he's waiting to hear yours again.

4. “It’s fine if she flirts. I know it’s harmless.”You’re charming. It’s part of who you are. You wink. Smile. Lean in a little too close. Caleb plays it cool. Says, “She’s always like that.” Then grabs your waist in front of everyone and whispers: “Try that again, and I’ll fuck you so hard next time you won’t remember anyone else’s name.”

5. “She doesn’t need to say she loves me every day.”You say it once. In passing. A low little “love you” as you walk away, like it’s nothing. But he hears it like an oath. And that night? He holds your hand a little tighter. Pulls your body a little closer. Not because he needs to hear it again. But because if he doesn’t touch you, he might forget how to breathe.

5 Things That Make Him Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. Your hair falls in his face. Leaning over him. Stretching across the couch. Just close enough that it brushes his cheek like it has rights. You don’t even notice. But he does. Every time. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. Just breathes in and lets the world narrow to that one soft, smug part of you.

2. You chew on your thumb when you’re thinking. Not seductively. Not even consciously. Just a tiny bite to the edge of your nail while you’re mid-rant about your latest recon or trying to remember the name of a street vendor. It’s nothing. Stupid. Barely a gesture. And yet — he stares. Tracks it like a countdown. Fists flexing slow. Jaw tight. Because that mouth should never look that innocent.

3. You interrupt him when he’s cooking. He’s focused. Knife in hand. Half-distracted by heat and oil. And then you slide in behind him. Touch his lower back. Squeeze something you shouldn’t. Say “Smells good, chef,” with a grin that makes his whole spine forget how to hold. He curses. Tries to shoo you off. You lick something off his finger. And now dinner’s going to burn.

4. You try on his Fleet cap like it’s a joke. You lift it off the rack. Set it crooked on your head. Salute with two fingers and that smile that once made him fall off a training tower. “Colonel,” you say. And he’s gone. He should laugh. He doesn’t. He walks over, takes it off you slow, and kisses your temple like he’s reassigning you to a very different kind of mission.

5. You say “I’m yours”. Not in bed. Not in public. Just… casually. In passing. In that low voice you only use when something’s real. “I’m yours.”He looks at you like you just disarmed a bomb with your bare hands. And then he ruins you for saying it so lightly.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. You’re the only one allowed to fly with him in his military jet.Clearance denied. Protocol says no. Regulations triple-confirm it. And yet — you’re in the co-pilot seat, boots up, fingers tracing buttons you’re not supposed to touch. He doesn’t stop you. Someone once asked why you get to ride with him when no one else does. He looked up from the cockpit and said, “She’s my gravity.” End of discussion.

2. You only need to place your hand on his to calm him down.No words. No pleading. No strategic de-escalation. Just your fingers, settling lightly over his, when something in him starts to coil too tight. And just like that — his spine eases. The heat in his eyes lowers by a degree. People have seen him end arguments with three words. They’ve never seen him go silent for anyone but you.

3. You’re the only person he’ll interrupt a briefing for.He’s mid-sentence. Room full of officers. Tactical projections glowing on the wall. His phone buzzes. He glances down, sees your name — and pauses. “Give me five,” he says. And walks out without waiting for permission. Someone once asked who it was.  He said, “The only priority higher than this fleet.”  No one asked again.

4. You walk in on his arm at the Farspace Fleet annual gala.He’s in dress whites. You’re in black. And the room — full of admirals, envoys, diplomats — parts like mist when you enter. He doesn’t introduce you. He doesn’t need to. You’re not just his date. You’re the one who makes him dangerous in silence. And everyone knows it.

5. You don’t need words to communicate.One glance. A tilt of your head. A tiny shift in posture across the room. He’s already moving. Already reading you like mission data. To others, it looks like magic. Intuition. Maybe telepathy. But for you two?  It’s just muscle memory — built from years of almosts, nevers, and finallys.

5 Times Caleb Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He pulled the full personnel file on a man you once smiled at.You were being polite. Friendly. The guy asked something harmless, you laughed. By morning, Caleb had his record open on a secure datapad, scrolling like he wasn’t reading a life — just calculating the risk factor. You asked what he was doing. He said, “I like knowing who wants what’s mine.” And then kissed you like he hoped you never asked him to stop.

2. He showed up at your door at 02:03 AM. Soaking wet. Furious. Silent.You missed one message. One. He waited. Thirty minutes. An hour. And then something in him snapped. No threats. No drama. Just the sound of his knock like a warning shot. You opened the door. He didn’t speak. Just stared. And then pulled you in with a grip like survival wasn’t optional anymore.

3. He scared the hell out of a junior pilot for asking your name.The kid was fresh. Eager. Smiled a little too long. Said, “Hey, what should I call you?” You started to answer. Then turned — and saw Caleb across the room. Expression calm. Stance neutral. Eyes loaded. The pilot apologized before you even said a word.

4. He slammed his hand on the table when you joked about breaking up.Just a joke. A throwaway line. Something stupid like “Guess I’ll go find someone less intense.” And his hand hit the surface before the words fully left your mouth. Not loud. Not violent. Just final. He didn’t yell. Didn’t argue. Just looked at you like you’d put a knife in his ribs and smiled about it. You never made that joke again.

5. He called you “dangerous” — and meant it like a vow.It was late. You were arguing. You said something sharp. He caught your wrist and said it low, almost reverent: “You’re dangerous.” But not like an accusation. Like awe. Like worship. Like he’d already decided to stay, even if you wrecked him completely. Even if he’d have to protect the world from you. Or protect you from himself.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Zayne’s Obsessed With You

1. Someone else bandaged your scratch. Just a graze. A stupid piece of shrapnel across your forearm. A colleague wrapped it up. No big deal. You came home smiling. Told him it barely hurt. He nodded. Quiet. Then excused himself to the kitchen. Five minutes later, he returned with antiseptic, clean gauze, and the words: “Take it off. I’m doing it properly.”  You didn’t argue. Neither did he. 2. Someone at work lent you their umbrella. A man. It was raining. You forgot yours. He offered. You accepted.  Zayne didn’t say a thing when you mentioned it over dinner. Just hummed. Neutral. The next morning, you found a new umbrella in your bag. Carbon fiber. Windproof. Labeled discreetly with your initials. You didn’t ask how he knew the exact weight your bag could carry without straining your shoulder. 3. You asked the waiter to recommend a wine. It was harmless. Polite. You were curious. But Zayne was sitting right there. He didn’t blink. Just looked at the waiter, then at you. Then took the list back. “Actually,” he said, calm as glass, “she prefers reds with less acidity. I’ll order.” You nodded. The waiter nodded. And somewhere between the clink of glasses, you realized that wasn't about wine at all. 4. You didn’t invite him to your morning training. He’d had a night shift. Surgery ran late. You wanted him to rest. So you left quietly. He woke up to an empty bed, your gym bag missing, and a silence that felt like a closed door. You came back to find his routine disrupted, his pulse still too fast — and a protein shake mixed just how you like it, chilled and waiting on the table. He never mentioned it. But now, if you decide to “let him rest” again… your training starts later. And doesn’t involve clothes. 5. You called another man “smart.” It was a game show. Trivia night. Some stranger on-screen made a clever move. You smiled. “Wow. That was actually really smart.” Zayne didn’t look up from his tablet. Didn’t even shift. But ten minutes later, you found yourself in a very precise debate about probability, strategy, and why that move wasn’t that brilliant after all. You didn’t argue. You just leaned closer. He didn’t smirk, but you felt it anyway.

5 Lies Zayne Tells Himself About You

1. "I’m just your cardiologist during exams." It’s clinical. Professional. Necessary. He listens to your heartbeat, takes your vitals, asks you to breathe deeper — deeper. You unbutton your shirt. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look. Doesn’t feel anything. Except for the part where he adjusts his gloves a little too tightly. And maybe takes one extra second to remove the stethoscope from your skin. 2. "Lunch tastes the same without you." He orders the same thing. Same café. Same tea. But the pastry tastes off. The space feels louder. The table — emptier. He tells himself it’s fine. Then brings the leftovers back to his office. Doesn’t touch them. Just leaves the box where your hand might find it later. 3. "I don’t need to pick you up." It’s logical. You’re a professional. Your job runs over sometimes. So does his. But your message was short. The streetlights are on. The buses are unreliable.  He checks traffic cams. Weather. Public transit delays. Then sits very still, staring at his phone, wondering how to offer you a ride without making it sound like panic. 4. "I’m not checking. I’m sleeping." You once left while he was asleep. You thought it was kinder. Quieter. Now he says he “needed water” or “had a dream.” But every night, at 3 AM, his hand reaches. Just to feel your back. Your wrist. The smallest proof that you haven’t disappeared again. 5. "Short skirts are inefficient." He says they’re impractical. Not suited for cold weather. Definitely not for terrain with hostile wanderer activity. You raise a brow. He adds, “You’re not seventeen. Dress like it.” But the second no one’s watching, his hand is already sliding up your thigh under the table. And when you raise a brow at him, he just says, flat: “Checking for circulation.” You’re not fooled. He’s already failed the mission.

5 Things That Make Zayne Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. You straighten his tie. You’re not thinking about it. Just reaching out, adjusting the knot, smoothing the line down his chest like it’s second nature. He stays still. Breath held. Eyes on your face. You step back. He doesn’t. Because now all he can think about is using that same tie to bind your wrists to the chair in his office — and how many minutes he can steal between appointments without compromising your breathing. 2. You dip your finger into the frosting of his pastry. You don’t ask. Just lean in, collect a bit of cream with your fingertip — and taste it. Oblivious. Innocent. Distracted by something else. He watches. Silently. And now the fork in his hand feels criminally unnecessary, because his mouth is dry, his mind’s gone blank, and he’s halfway to pulling you into his lap just to return the favor — with interest. 3. You take off your bra without removing your shirt. It’s casual. Automatic. You’re talking about your day, laughing, and then — One arm out. Then the other. The strap slides through the sleeve and vanishes into your laundry bag like it never existed. His brain glitches. His hands twitch. And he will absolutely spend the rest of the evening pretending to listen while picturing every technical step of reversing that maneuver with his teeth. 4. You imitate him. Badly. You’re wearing his lab coat. His glasses. Sitting at his desk, brows drawn, lips pressed tight. Your impression is awful. He should be annoyed. But instead — he watches. Sharp. Quiet. And when you finally laugh and start to take it off, he gets up. Takes the coat from your shoulders himself. And tells you, too evenly, “You forgot the gloves.” 5. You trace lazy shapes on his wrist while talking about something unrelated. You’re saying something about your neighbor’s cat. Something trivial. But your fingers are moving in a slow, absent pattern across his skin. And Zayne — who has operated on live hearts under pressure, who has held lives in one hand and death in the other — is currently struggling not to grab your wrist and drag you onto the desk. Because apparently, nothing in this galaxy has the precision impact of your fingertip.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. You have a keycard to his office.Not a guest pass. Not a shared access code. A permanent, personalized, high-level card to a room most staff can’t even knock on without permission. You walked in one day mid-shift, casual, spinning the card between your fingers like it was a hairpin. Three nurses saw. One dropped her tablet. Rumors started before you even closed the door. Zayne didn’t correct them.

2. When he received a prestigious award, the first person he thanked was you.Best cardiothoracic surgeon of the year. Cameras flashing. Applause rising. Everyone expected a speech about innovation and responsibility. Instead, he said: “I’d like to thank the one person who keeps me alive enough to do this work. My partner. My favorite interruption.”Then he looked straight at you. The auditorium melted.

3. You’re both dressed like weapons. And everyone notices.He wears tailored coats, precision-cut collars, charcoal palettes like a tactical signature.You? Heels like blades. A suit that redefines “combat-ready.” And when you walk together — sharp, silent, side by side — people stop talking. Someone once tried to photograph you. The headline read: Unknown dignitaries arrive. Security does not comment.

4. You don’t argue. You duet.Someone crossed a line. Loud, drunk, smug. Zayne responded first — clean, cold, just one sentence long. The man blinked. Started to retort. You finished it for him. Elegant, sharp, no profanity required. He left. Fast. And you turned back to Zayne like nothing happened — while everyone else tried to recover from what could only be described as a linguistic orgasm.

5. He opens doors, buttons coats, and moves chairs like it’s instinct.Not performative. Not flashy. Just… precise. He adjusts your sleeve without thinking. Helps you into the car like it’s always been his hand. You barely register it. But the woman across the street? The one who saw it all from behind her coffee cup? She’s still texting her group chat about “the man in the long coat and the woman who ruined my standards.”

5 Times Zayne Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He gets live data from your heart monitor.Your Hunter’s Watch sends updates to the cloud. Zayne rerouted the feed to his private tablet. “Just in case,” he said. Now he knows when your pulse spikes. When you’re injured. When you don’t sleep. You never gave him access. You never had to. The first time he called mid-mission to say “slow your breathing” — you realized he wasn’t tracking. He was watching over.

2. He absolutely hates when you drive. Always.You're capable. Fast. Efficient. And yet — every time you take the wheel, something in him shuts down. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t protest. Just goes silent. And stares at the road like it personally offended him. He says, “It’s fine.” But he holds the dashboard too tightly for that to be true.

3. He freezes every time you say “I can handle it.”You mean well. You’re strong. You are capable. But when you brush him off with a casual “I’ve got this,” he doesn’t nod. Doesn’t smile. He just stops. Eyes unreadable. Hands still. And when you come back later — even fine — there’s already a backup plan on your datapad. Three versions. In color.

4. He never replies to emotional messages right away.You send: “I miss you. A lot.” His read receipt appears. Then… nothing. For two hours. And just when you start to spiral — he sends a photo. Of your favorite pastry. Waiting on his table. With one word: “Soon.” You hate how well it works. 

5. He spoke to the man flirting with you like he was reviewing his autopsy.It was harmless. A drink. A joke. A compliment. You laughed. Zayne didn’t. He stepped in, shook the man’s hand, and said: "Tell me, has anyone ever checked your prefrontal lobe for impulse control irregularities?"The man left. Quickly. You rolled your eyes. Zayne didn’t apologize. He just took your hand. And changed the subject. Completely calm. Fully satisfied.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Rafayel’s Obsessed With You

1. Someone comments “🔥” under your photo — and you like it.He sees it. Of course he does. He sees everything. You think it’s harmless. He thinks it’s appalling that someone dared mark your beauty with an emoji better suited to grilled meat. He says nothing. But that night, you get a charcoal sketch of yourself in your favorite pose, signed with a tiny flame in the corner. When you ask about it, he hums. “Oh, just honoring your admirers’ creative input.”

2. You linger too long in front of another artist’s painting.Not just glance. Linger. Eyes soft. Head tilted. That thoughtful little breath you take when something moves you. He stands beside you, perfectly still. Smiling. Then leans in and whispers, “Cutie, if you start weeping, I may need to challenge the gallery owner to a duel.” You're not sure if he’s joking. You’re also not sure you want him to be.

3. You talk about a beautiful place you visited… without him.You’re glowing. Describing the light, the air, the view. He listens, nods, even asks questions. Then: “And did the sun taste the same without me there?” You pause. He smiles, all charm and cheekbones. “I’m just wondering how it dared rise, knowing we weren’t together.”

4. You send him a photo — and there’s someone else’s hand in the frame.You didn’t notice it. He did. He stares at the image like it’s a crime scene. Zooms in. Later, he replies: “Beautiful composition. Fascinating use of background tension. Would love to discuss the symbolism of that wrist — whose is it?” You laugh. He doesn’t.

5. You say some actor is “exactly your type.”He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just goes very still, then casually asks, “Before or after makeup?” Later, you find your datapad background changed. It’s him. In perfect lighting. Shirt unbuttoned just so. The caption reads: “Still unsure who your type is? Look into my eyes. You’ll remember.”

5 Lies Rafayel Tells Himself About You

1. “I didn’t paint you. It’s just resemblance.”He insists it’s a study of emotion. A symbol. A face from memory. But the tilt of the head, the mouth, the birthmark near the collarbone — they’re all yours. You ask, teasing: “Is that me?” He blinks. Smiles slowly. “Cutie,” he says, “I wouldn’t paint you without permission.” And then changes the subject. Very deliberately.

2. “I don't reread your old messages.”He’s far too elegant for that. Far too composed. Except on quiet nights. On long flights. In museums where the silence scratches at his skin. Then he opens the archive. Just for the rhythm of your words. The accidental poetry. The way you once wrote “come home soon” like it meant more than time and place. He says it’s for “emotional reference.” He lies beautifully.

3. “I don't watch your mouth when you talk.”He’s an artist. A visual thinker. Of course he looks at faces. But not like that. Not at yours. Not like he’s memorizing the shape of every syllable just to feel them later against his throat. Not like he’s fantasizing mid-conversation about shutting you up with his tongue and tasting the sentence off your lips. No. Never. He’s listening.

4. “I haven’t memorized your scent through every season.”He claims not to notice. But he knows the spring version of you — soft rain, citrus skin, the aftershock of lilac. He knows the winter version — leather gloves, cinnamon breath, quiet wool. He doesn’t name them. Doesn’t chase the memory. But when you walk past — his eyes close. Briefly. Automatically. Like he’s gathering air before going under.

5. “I don't imagine your name with mine.”He’s not that romantic. Puh-lease. Marriage is a construct, surnames are politics, and love is beyond paperwork. He says all that with a flourish. And yet — there’s a notebook. Tucked under his mattress. Full of signatures. Yours. His. Just to see how it would look. Just in case.

5 Things That Make Rafayel Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. When you eat something juicy. Fruit. Fingers. With zero awareness.You bite into it slowly, distracted. Something sweet. Ripe. Juice glides over your lower lip, and your tongue follows without thinking. He watches, motionless. Not breathing. Not blinking. You glance at him. He tilts his head. Smiles. Says lightly: "That peach is about to become my personal enemy." You laugh. He doesn’t. He’s too busy wondering how it’s possible to be jealous of the fruit.

2. When you kiss his hand instead of his mouth. He leans in, expecting lips. Contact. Heat. And instead — you take his hand. Press a kiss into his palm. Soft. Deliberate. His breath catches. His throat tightens. Because that wasn’t affection. That was submission. And now he’s wondering just how far you’d let him take it. 3. When you tease him with your voice. Not the words. The tone. The whisper. You say his name like silk sliding over glass. You ask “You think so?” like it means “prove it.” You laugh — not loudly, but just enough to make his chest hurt. He could diagram it, break it into sound waves, prove the seduction in math. But instead, he just steps closer. And says, low: "Say that again. Slower." 4. When you sit on the floor, barefoot, flipping through his sketches — looking like you belong there. You’re humming something. Knees tucked up. No shoes. No guard. You tilt your head, study a piece, murmur: “I like this one.” He doesn’t even remember drawing it. He just remembers the way your hair spills over your shoulder and how the studio feels suddenly too small for how much he wants you. He doesn’t touch you. Not yet. He just watches like a starving thing. Memorizing the moment in case he dies of it later. 5. When you say “more.” In any context. “More sugar.” “More time.” “More.” That’s all it takes. One syllable. One open door. You never mean it the way he hears it — but he takes it as a promise. Like permission. Like a match tossed onto something already too dry to survive. And the next time he touches you? He makes damn sure you say it again.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. He painted a self-portrait — with you reflected in his pupils. Not your full form. Not a shared composition. Just his face. Direct gaze. And in both eyes: you. Looking at him. Always. When the painting debuted in the gallery’s main hall, critics called it “a study in obsession.” He called it accurate. 2. In an interview, he said you’re the only one who gets his sketches. The host asked who his work goes to first — gallery, agent, press. He smiled lazily and answered, “Her.” The room stilled. “The raw ones. The incomplete. The brutal drafts no one else deserves to see.” He didn’t say your name. He didn’t have to. The moment he said it, you were already trending. 3. He delayed his own exhibition opening because you weren’t there yet. The venue was full. Lights ready. Guests murmuring. But he stood at the entrance, fingers laced behind his back, perfectly calm. “She’s on the way,” he said. “She had a prior engagement.” No one questioned him. Later, when you finally arrived — graceful, composed, in a deep sapphire gown that matched the evening — only he noticed the tiny scratch on your knuckle. The faintest shadow of something darker, just beneath the perfume. You smiled. He took your hand. And the doors opened like they’d been waiting for you all along. 4. Someone flirted with him. He looked at you. Then said: “I’m already spoken for. Permanently.” It was charming. Playful. Someone touched his wrist, laughed softly, leaned a little too close. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t react. Just turned his head toward you. Found your eyes. Then said it — quietly, cleanly, like a closing signature on a finished masterpiece. 5. At a charity auction, he sold a painting titled: “Painted Between Her Breathing and Mine.” The crowd didn’t know what to do with that. Some laughed nervously. Some applauded. The bidding started high and ended astronomical. But as the winning guest walked past you, holding the canvas with reverent hands — he still glanced back. At you. As if to say: That canvas holds the image. But I keep the original.

5 Times Rafayel Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He can disappear for three days and return with, “I just needed to stop being jealous.” No warning. No calls. Just silence, like he fell off the planet. You panic. Rage. Rehearse five speeches. And then he walks in — composed, scented like night air and oil paint. “Sorry,” he says softly. “I was being irrational. Had to… recalibrate.” You want to scream. Instead, you breathe him in like he’s home. 2. He destroyed the career of a critic who called your photo “poorly lit.” It wasn’t even a real insult. Just a throwaway line in a blog. But Raf read it. Once. And within a week, that critic was blacklisted from three galleries, publicly corrected by five curators, and accidentally misquoted in a viral controversy. You found out much later. He just looked at you and said, “No one calls shadow a flaw when it falls across you.” 3. He faked an illness so you wouldn’t leave for a mission. Nothing dramatic. Just a cough. A warm forehead. You hesitated. Postponed. Stayed. The next morning, he was radiant. Healthy. Annoyingly smug. You narrowed your eyes. He only shrugged, kissed your wrist, and whispered, “I needed one more night. Forgive the performance.” You did. Of course you did. The guilt felt almost like foreplay. 4. He left your clothes wet in the wash so you’d wear his shirt instead. Accident, he claimed. Timing. Cycles. But somehow, your entire outfit was still in the machine — cold, damp, and useless — while his favorite linen shirt lay folded neatly on the bed. You put it on. He watched you button it. And smiled like he'd won a silent war no one else even knew was happening. 5. He reads your messages without asking. Calmly. You know it. He knows you know. He doesn’t deny it. Just traces your jaw one evening and says, “You don’t hide anything from me. That’s why it doesn’t count as intrusion.” And the worst part? He’s right. You stopped hiding a long time ago.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Xavier’s Obsessed With You

1. You nap on the wrong side of the bed.You nap on the wrong side of the bed. Not wrong, exactly. Just… not his. You’re curled up in the late-afternoon light, peaceful, quiet, unaware. He doesn’t wake you. Doesn’t move you. But when you stir, there’s a weight in the silence. His side of the bed is untouched. Pillow perfectly aligned. No warmth. No scent. And your blanket — tucked just a little tighter — like a quiet reminder that even when you’re here, something’s missing. Something he’s not sure how to ask for without sounding ridiculous. Like: your perfume. On his pillow. Where it should be.

2. You tell him about a dream. Someone else was in it.You describe it absently. A mission. A flash of danger. And a man — not him — at your side. He listens. Nods. Doesn’t blink. But that night, when he kisses you, his hand stays on the back of your neck longer than usual. And his mouth says I want you, but his grip says: you don’t forget me, even in sleep.

3. You keep something old, worn, unnamed.A keychain. A patch. A folded slip of paper. Nothing dramatic. But it’s always near. He asks, once: “What is that?” You smile. “Just something from a long time ago.” He nods. Never brings it up again. But two days later, he leaves something else beside it. Not to replace. Just to match the weight.

4. You let the barista choose your drink instead of him.You smiled. Said “sure, why not.” Took the new coffee without hesitation. He was beside you. Holding your usual. You didn’t notice. But when you left the café, his own drink sat untouched. And he walked a little faster. A little quieter. As if recalibrating the fact that maybe someone else knows your taste. Even if it’s just in coffee.

5. You close your laptop too fast when he walks in.“Just a movie,” you say. Too quickly. He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t tilt his head. Just nods and sets his gloves on the table like he didn’t notice the flicker in your tone. Later, while checking your tabs, he sees the paused frame — teeth on skin, hands holding wrists, someone begging. Silently. His breath doesn’t change. His expression stays neutral. But when he finds you, hours later, he doesn’t speak. Just pins your arms above your head and kisses you until you can’t remember what the scene looked like — only what it felt like when it became real.

5 Lies Xavier Tells Himself About You

1. “I’m not jealous of whoever taught you how to fight like that.”He knows it doesn’t matter. It’s skill. It’s history. Efficiency passed from one warrior to another. He tells himself it’s irrelevant. But when he watches you move — precise, lethal, beautiful — something coils in his chest. Not because of the technique. But because someone else saw you become this version of yourself. And he didn’t.

2. “It’s logical to sleep apart sometimes.” You need rest. Space. Post-mission decompression. He understands. It’s healthy. Statistically sound. But the first night you say “I’ll sleep in my own apartment,” the bed feels wrong. His internal balance off by degrees he can’t quantify. He tells himself it’s fine. Then stares at the ceiling for hours, heart syncing to a rhythm that isn’t there.

3. “It doesn’t bother me when you keep things to yourself.” You’re independent. He respects that. Boundaries are natural. But you say “I’m fine” with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, and he catalogs ten micro-expressions that say otherwise. Still, he nods. Doesn’t push. Then replays your words in his head for the next three days, trying to solve you like a puzzle that refuses to open.

4. "I could walk away, if it ever came to that." He tells himself he’s rational. Detached. If you chose something else — someone else — he would adapt. But deep down, he knows: he’s already memorized your weight in his arms, the way your name fits inside his silence. If it ever came to leaving… he wouldn’t walk. He’d stay exactly where you left him. Quiet. Waiting. Ruined.

5. "You wouldn’t lie to protect me. Would you?" You say “it was nothing,” “I’m just tired,” “I handled it.” And he accepts it. On the surface. But his mind starts building alternate versions. Safer ones. Worse ones. Ones where you bled and said nothing. He tells himself you’d never hide real danger. But he still checks your vitals in the logs. Every time.

5 Things That Make Xavier Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. You walk in wearing a bright yellow duck kigurumi.  Absurd. Fuzzy. Zipped up wrong. You yawn, mumble something about tea, and pad across the room like comfort incarnate. He looks up. Blinks once. And forgets what he was doing. The beak hood. The bare ankles. The way you scratch your neck, half-asleep. None of it should be seductive. But now he can’t look away. His gaze tracks you like threat assessment — only it's not danger he’s calculating. It’s proximity. Access. How long he can pretend he's unaffected… before you end up against the wall. Still wearing the duck. For now.

2. You adjust the chest plate of his armor.  No rush. Just fingertips over matte metal, sliding a buckle, pressing a clasp. Your hands linger longer than they need to. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. But he does. He’s counting your seconds, your pressure, the exact placement of your thumb. If anyone asks why his next shot missed the center by half an inch, it’s because you touched him like a secret no one else was allowed to see. 3. You peel off your combat gloves with your teeth.  It’s efficient. Quick. Practical. But the way your mouth closes around the strap and your fingers flex once, twice, before they’re bare — He’s staring before he knows he is. Processing nothing but the curve of your jaw and the memory of that same mouth around his length. The second glove doesn’t stand a chance. Neither does he, honestly. 4. You wear a thin black choker.  No explanation. No warning. It’s not part of your gear. Has no field utility. But it’s there, snug against your throat like a promise no one else knows about. He sees it once and looks away. Sees it again and swallows too hard. The third time, he doesn’t look at all — he just shifts in his seat like everything in his world needs immediate recalibration. 5. You say “later” when he leans in.  Just a little. Enough to feel the pull. And you smile, soft, apologetic, not teasing — just... not now. He nods, like he understands. He always does. But from that second forward, every calculation, every breath, every cell in his body becomes attuned to the moment you say now. And when you finally do — he doesn’t wait. He doesn’t ask. He just takes, like patience was never part of the equation to begin with.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. You moved in perfect sync — without saying a single word. In the training hall, you didn’t say a word — but moved like a mirrored code. You shifted, he adjusted. You reached, he passed. No signals, no commands. Just two bodies in absolute sync. Someone watching whispered, “Do they rehearse this?” Someone else muttered, “No. That’s just them.” And suddenly, no one wanted to spar with either of you. 2. Someone called him “too quiet.” You didn’t let it slide. It was a throwaway comment —“He’s so silent, it’s weird.” You didn’t even look up from your drink. “Then you’ve never heard him breathe next to you.” The room went still. Xavier didn’t react. But you felt it — how he went still too, the way his attention locked fully on you. As if your words changed the temperature. 3. He braided your hair for three weeks while your wrist healed. At your desk. Between reports. No comments. No hesitation. Just practiced hands and quiet efficiency, like it belonged in the schedule. And maybe it wasn’t romantic. Or loud. But after that, no one ever looked at you the same way — because somehow, without trying, the two of you had redefined what closeness looked like. 4. You didn’t ask for his jacket. You didn’t have to. A shift in the wind. Goosebumps on your arms. No complaint, no drama. He just stepped behind you, slid his cardigan onto your shoulders like it belonged there, and said nothing. The couple walking by paused. Stared. You didn’t. You were already reaching for his hand. 5. There’s a photo of you on his desk.  Just you, caught mid-laugh, in natural light. Among tactical reports and encrypted drives. He never explains it. Never acknowledges it. But everyone who enters that room sees it. And no one ever asks if he's serious about you. They already know.

5 Times Xavier Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He monitors your meals like it’s a clinical trial. “You didn’t eat enough protein today.” “That pastry had no nutritional value.” “Are you hydrating?” He says it softly. Calmly. Like a doctor. Like someone who cares. And yet — you’ve seen him survive three days on black coffee and whatever snack bar was closest to his hand. You mention this once. He pauses. Then says, “That’s different. I’m used to operating under stress. You’re not.” End of discussion.

2. He didn’t argue. He made the argument disappear. You disagreed about something small. Nothing dramatic. Just opposing views. He didn’t push back. Just nodded, quiet. Said, “If that’s what you think.” Later, you realized the entire issue — schedule, person, condition — was gone. Resolved. Removed. Replaced. No apology. No discussion. Just silence... and a solution that left you with nothing to win.

3. He never asked where you’d been.Not once. Not even after you were late. Not even when your message came hours too late. He didn’t accuse. Didn’t guess. He already knew. Tracked your path, logged your signal drift, checked your pulse history. All without a word. And still held the door open when you arrived.

4. He always calls via video when you’re in another city.He never misses a day. Never just texts. Always video. He says he likes seeing your face. That it “grounds him.” And maybe that’s true. Maybe. But every time the screen lights up, you notice how carefully his eyes scan the room behind you. How his voice sounds different if there’s movement. How he never quite hangs up until you say, “I’m alone. It’s quiet here.” Only then does he relax. A little. Maybe.

5. You told him, “Sometimes, you scare me.” He said, “Good.”It slipped out. Low. Uncertain. Not a joke, not an accusation — just the truth. He didn’t deny it. Didn’t soften. Just met your eyes and said, calm as ever, “Good. Then you’ll stay alert.” And for a moment, you weren’t sure if he was warning you… or protecting you from something only he could see coming.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Sylus’s Obsessed With You

1. You didn’t tag him. He made sure the world knew anyway.You posted a photo. Cute. Stylish. Perfect lighting. But no mention of him. No tag. No trace. He reposted it within minutes. Same photo. New caption: “Correction: mine.” It got five times the reach. And suddenly, everyone knew better.

2. Someone else made you laugh. Sylus didn’t.The waiter was charming. A little too witty. You laughed — loud, unfiltered. Sylus just raised a brow, pulled out his wallet, and handed the man $2000. “For your last night in customer service,” he said. He smiled. You choked on your wine. The waiter never came back.

3. You called some man a friend. Sylus ran a background check.“He’s just a friend,” you said. Lightly. Barely thinking. Sylus smiled. Tilted his head. “I’m just a man with access to his tax history.”And that was the end of that conversation.

4. You said another man had a nice voice. Sylus gave you no air.It was innocent. Harmless. “His voice is kind of nice.”  Sylus said nothing. Just waited. That night, he read you poetry in three languages, one line at a time — mouth against your neck, breasts, stomach, thighs — until you begged him to stop. Not because you wanted him to. Because you physically couldn’t take more.

5. You forgot to wear his ring. He didn’t forget anything.It wasn’t intentional. You were rushing. Distracted. But he noticed. Of course he did. He said nothing all day. Then, that night — when you were breathless, undone, on your knees — he took your hand, kissed your finger, and slid the ring back into place. Slowly. Deliberately. Like sealing a deal you forgot you signed.

5 Lies Sylus Tells Himself About You

1. “I didn’t pick your outfit to match mine. Must’ve been the stylist.”It was just coincidence. That your lipstick matched his cufflinks. That your dress followed the same line as his collarbones. That when you walked in together, people paused — like royalty had arrived. He didn’t say a word. Just looked at you once. And didn’t look away for the rest of the night.

2. “I’m not furious that I wasn’t your first.”He says it doesn’t matter. Shrugs. “I’m not a teenager.” And yet, the thought of someone else touching you before him? It coils in his chest like smoke that won’t clear. He tells himself you chose him now — and that’s what counts. But the next time you moan his name, he fucks you hard enough to make sure no one else’s ever mattered.

3. “I don’t answer your messages instantly. I’m just always holding the phone.”He just… saw it. Right away. Just happened to be holding his phone. Just happened to pause mid-meeting, mid-deal, mid-war — to write: “Be safe.” You tease him for how fast he replies. He teases back. And never mentions the part where your name makes him drop everything.

4. “I’m not obsessed with the way you say my name when you’re annoyed.”You do it without thinking. That exact tone. That breath. That syllable dipped in heat. He rolls his eyes. Says, “What now, kitten?” But every time it happens — he shifts closer. Hears it again later in his head. And stores it next to the version you whisper when you want him most.

5. “I wouldn’t beg. If it came to that. …But only for you. And only once.”He’s not that man. He doesn’t plead. Doesn’t bend. But when he thinks of you leaving — really leaving — something dark and fragile coils behind his ribs. He tells himself he’d let you go. That he wouldn’t chase. But even in the lie… he’s already halfway down the hallway.

5 Things That Make Sylus Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. You ask him to zip your dress. Then don’t wear anything underneath. It’s casual. Innocent. “Help me?” You turn your back, lift your hair, and wait. He moves slow — almost reverent. But when his fingers meet bare skin where silk should be… he doesn’t finish the zip. He turns you around, steps in close, and says, “You came dressed for trouble. Good. So did I.” 2. You say “don’t be gentle” with a smile that promises you’ll say it again, louder. He always controls the pace. The heat. The rhythm. But when you lean in, lips brushing his ear, and whisper those words — something in him fractures. He doesn’t ask if you’re sure. He doesn’t give you time to change your mind. He just obeys. And makes sure you feel the echo for days. 3. You use his tie to pull him into a kiss. He likes power. Centered, composed. Collar straight, voice cool. But when you grab that perfect silk tie, wrap it around your fingers, and yank — he stumbles into you like a man starved. You kiss him once. He kisses you back like vengeance. 4. You say “yes, sir” in a tone that means the opposite. You drawl it. Sweet. Defiant. Like you know exactly what it does to him. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t smile. Just leans in, voice low against your throat, and says, “Keep using that tone, kitten. Let’s see how long you last when I take it seriously.” You don’t last long. Not that night. 5. You put on his ring and ask, “So what does this buy me?” It’s a joke. Almost. You twirl it on your finger, playful, reckless. He watches. Then smiles slow, wicked. “That?” he says, stepping closer. “That buys you a night where I don’t stop until you forget your own name.” And just like that, you do.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. The earring incident at the casino. You dropped it. Somewhere between the blackjack table and the bar. Nothing dramatic — until your face shifted. That quiet flicker of loss. Sylus didn’t sigh. Didn’t scold. Just raised a brow. And a dozen seasoned criminals began crawling across the velvet floor. They found it in twenty minutes. You wore it for the rest of the night. He wore the look of a man who’d moved the world back into place. 2. The arrivals are always his favorite part. You come back from missions — tired, sore, alive. And there it is: his sportscar. Engine humming. He’s waiting with a bouquet of roses so rare you don’t recognize half the species. The entire terminal watches. You don’t. You’re too busy smiling. He says, “Welcome home.” And just like that, the war disappears from your shoulders. 3. The seat at the head of the table. It was a high-stakes meeting. Old money. Dangerous names. Sylus led you in by the hand — then pulled out his chair. You blinked. He said nothing. And while you sat at the head, calm and poised, he stood behind you like a king who knows exactly where real power sits. No one even dared raise a brow. 4. The auction. Your hand. His silence. He gave you the paddle. Not instructions. You bid on instinct — numbers rising, tension thick. The item? A rare protocore with blackout-level clearance. Sylus didn’t flinch. Not once. And when the gavel dropped — he leaned in, lips brushing your ear, and said, “You can spend my money however you want, kitten. Just make sure they see you doing it.” 5. The moment the room lost him to you. It was mid-negotiation. Tense. Crucial. Every word counted. But across the table, your fingers tapped. Your eyes glazed. You were bored. Sylus watched. Then stood. “Deal’s done,” he said. “You’ll take our terms.” And somehow, they did. Because the only person in the room whose attention he wanted — was already drifting.

5 Times Sylus Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He knows what’s in your delivery before you do. No one told him. But every time you order something — clothes, tech, vitamins — it’s re-screened. Not stopped. Not blocked. Just… “verified.” You only noticed when your favorite moisturizer showed up improved. New formula. Better scent. Hand-selected. Of course. 2. He said he’d put you on IV if you skip another meal. You were busy. Distracted. He asked what you’d eaten. You said, “Does coffee count?” He laughed. Once. And muttered something about installing a medical station in your apartment. He was “joking.” Until you saw the discreet courier bring an IV stand the next day. Just in case. 3. He took you to dinner at a place you hadn’t been since Academy. You didn’t realize where you were — until you saw your ex across the room. The one who cheated. Sylus just smiled. You were in a dress that made people stop breathing. He ordered champagne. Lobster. Left a four-digit tip. And made sure your ex saw everything. Including the way you kissed Sylus on the way out. 4. He froze your accounts. Just to prove a point. You said you didn’t need his money. You insisted on “independence.” So he waited until your card declined at the pharmacy. Then texted: “You have my black card. Use it. Or stay home.” You gave in. He sent flowers. 5. He apologized like a storm front. You fought. It was ugly. The next day, a gift arrived at HQ. Then another. Then six more. By day four, your car was full. You marched to his door, furious. He opened it, leaned against the frame, and said, “Took you long enough. Come yell at me. I’ll pour the wine.”

[arabella0001]

✧ cn: fluff, marriage, husband toji, suggestive

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Toji isn’t the kind of man who says “I love you” often. Not because he doesn’t feel it—but because words have never been his thing.

But when he sees you now, sitting on the floor with Megumi, trying to explain how to fit little wooden shapes into the right holes so he can learn geometry—something Toji knows damn well he’d never have the patience for, something hits him.

Fuck. This is what loving someone looks like.

It’s not just that you look cute when you smile, or how gently you stroke Megumi’s hair when he gets frustrated. It’s not even just how sweet your voice gets when you say, “That’s the triangle, baby. Good job.”

It’s that you’re beautiful. So beautiful it actually pisses him off a little.

Those damn shorts he always says make your ass look bigger—rolled up slightly, your hair tied back in that way that’s both innocent and deadly. From one angle, you look like the softest woman he’s ever seen. From another… like the kind he wants to bend over the couch and fuck until you're gasping his name, gripping the cushion while he pulls your hair and keeps your back pressed to his chest like you’re not going anywhere—

But that’s not what matters right now.

His heart beats a little harder just sitting there, slouched on the couch, legs spread, exhausted after a mission. And still… it’s you he’s watching.

“Hey,” he calls out.

You don’t look up, too focused on Megumi, but your voice comes out sweet, without thinking.

“Hmm? Yes, love?”

He wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out quite right. The pause is too long, so you finally turn to look at him.

His eyes meet yours—intense, unreadable.

“Something wrong, baby?”

He hesitates. It comes out awkward, maybe even stupid. But it’s real.

“If you ever need anything from me… tell me.”

You blink, confused for a second, brows knitting.

“Toji, I’m completely happy with what i have. With you and Me—”

“Promise me.”

A beat.

“Yes, Toji. I promise.”

He nods, looking away, voice low—half to himself.

“I’d give you anything you want from me.”

[ariichive]

JEALOUSY☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

jealous scenarios ft. phainon, anaxa, and mydei!

gen. neutral reader

cw: anaxa is kinda crazy he puts his gun to reader, possessiveness, mentions of violence, fluff, not proofread im so tired :')

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

phainon

phainon was one to pride himself on his natural charm, he was a very easy going guy. the stark contrast between him in battle and off was admirable.

though as much as he hates to admit it, sometimes the warrior takes over his instincts. for instance, right now as he watched the droma’s caretaker openly flirt with you.

it wasn’t just the flirting—though that was annoying enough—it was the way you laughed, the way your eyes softened, the way you didn’t immediately pull away. phainon knew you weren’t his, not in the way that would justify this sudden surge of possessiveness. but logic had never been good at taming instinct.

his fingers twitched at his side, an old habit from years of battle. the part of him that thrived in combat, the part that didn’t hesitate when faced with a challenge, whispered at him to act. it would be so easy to step in, to slide an arm around your waist, to make it clear to everyone in the room—especially to the man standing too close—that you weren’t available.

but that wasn’t his place. not yet, at least. so instead, he forced himself to take a breath, to unclench his fists, to remind himself that he was phainon—charming, laid-back, not the type to pick a fight over something so trivial.

“phainon, this one likes me!”

his stoic expression softened when he realized, in fact, you were talking about the loving dromas and not that man.

phainon smiled gently at your joy, “i can tell, he sure does like you a lot!”

there was a certain edge to his voice that could’ve been missed by onlookers. you gave him a concerned glance, one which he smiled at and didn’t question further.

and yet, when the caretaker let out another laugh, explaining the most basic knowledge of dromas ever, his hand brushing against yours, phainon found himself smiling again. it wasn’t a friendly smile.

“having fun?” he asked, voice smooth but carrying an edge beneath it as he finally approached the two of you.

“yeah—!” you were quick to respond only to look up at phainon and realize his attention wasn’t on you. “phainon..”

“yes my lovely spouse, who i treasure more than any riches and i’d also kill for?” now his attention was focused on you, his smile bittersweet.

the thing with phainon is whenever he looked at you, there was always such intensity.

“don’t start, i’m okay i promise.”

there was a joking tilt to your voice, but it was enough to calm him down.

“now, come over and feed the dromas with me! this one’s name is castor, very sweet we should take him home!”

phainon let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. "my love, as much as i would adore bringing castor home, i fear he would not fit through our door."

you laughed, reaching out to pet the dromas, who nuzzled into your touch affectionately. "we could make it work," you teased, "build a bigger door, you're strong enough. or, you know, just let him live in our backyard."

phainon hummed in thought, stepping closer until he was right beside you. "tempting," he mused, reaching out to pet castor. "but then i’d have to compete for your affection, and i don’t think my heart could take it."

you rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. "oh, please. you already know you’re my favorite."

his grin softened into something more genuine, his blue eyes filled with something tender. "good. because my dearest, you are mine." phainon swears the dromas narrowed its eyes at him (the caretaker did too but phainon was too busy enjoying the memoment with you to get mad all over again).

you burst into laughter as the dromas let out a soft sound, clearly pleased with itself. "maybe if you were as cute as them, you’d stand a chance."

phainon clutched his chest. "wounded. utterly wounded."

but despite his theatrics, he leaned in closer, his hand brushing against yours as you both continued to feed the dromas together, the warmth between you as steady as ever.

...

"y'know, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to take one home, then we wouldn't have to come back here. i can't believe that vile man had the nerve to even look at you..!"

"phainon, my dear, we are not actually going to take one home."

"...i like the name kevin, wouldn't you agree, [name]?"

the rest of the day was spent with phainon in your ear.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

anaxa

the carefully crafted lunched in your hands was the least of your worries as a soft click was heard from behind you followed by a pressure being applied to the back of your head.

just to think; you went out of your way to bring lunch to your oh-so-kind boyfriend and this is how he greets you?

you would say you're surprised but... this isn't the first time something like this has happened.

"do tell me, what's the foul mood for now?"

he didn't appreciate the snarky comment as the gun pushed against your head even more.

"my [name], you seemed to enjoy yourself outside with that man. would i be correct to assume so?"

so this is what he's mad about.

you exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "if you must know, i was just making conversation. you know, something normal people do?"

the gun pressed harder against your skull in response, the warning clear. anaxa hated being mocked.

"careful," he murmured, voice quieter now, more dangerous. "i'm already being generous by allowing you to explain yourself. do not test my patience."

you tilted your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. his expression was unreadable, but his grip on the gun was steady—too steady.

"allowing me to explain myself?" you echoed, amusement creeping into your tone. "and here i thought my oh-so-loving boyfriend would trust me a little more by now."

anaxa exhaled sharply through his nose, but he said nothing. the silence stretched between you for a few moments before the pressure at the back of your head finally disappeared.

anaxa let out a low hum, his voice smooth yet laced with something sharp—jealousy, possessiveness, something only he could wield so effortlessly. "you know how i feel about you entertaining the company of other men," he said, tilting his head slightly. "and yet, there you were, laughing as if you had no care in the world."

you sigh, "i promise you it was a very brief interaction. i even told him i was visiting you for lunch."

anaxa looked away in faux annoyance as he gently took the lunch from your hands.

"thank you, [name]." anaxa was genuine in his thanks, he understood how troublesome it could be to reach him in the grove of epiphany.

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "i'd say 'you're welcome,' but i'm not sure you deserve it after that stunt."

he sighed dramatically, setting the lunch down on his desk before taking a seat. his movements were as measured as ever, graceful even in something as simple as this. "you wound me, truly," he drawled, undoing the buttons of his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up. "but i suppose my cruelty knows no bounds, does it? threatening my beloved over something as insignificant as a passing interaction."

"so you admit it was ridiculous?" you quirked a brow, leaning against the edge of his desk.

anaxa leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you with a gaze so heavy it felt like an unseen weight pressing against you. "i admit nothing," he corrected, voice as smooth as ever. "but even the most brilliant minds are prone to… lapses in judgment."

you let out a small scoff, shaking your head. "right. 'lapses in judgment.' is that what we're calling your absurd jealousy now?"

he exhaled through his nose, as if considering your words, before finally opening the meal you had brought him. "call it whatever you like, my dear," he said idly, plucking a piece of food with deliberate ease. "but tell me, if i were to flirt so freely with another, would you be so composed?"

your mouth opened, but the words died on your tongue. anaxa watched your hesitation with something akin to satisfaction, his smirk deepening ever so slightly.

"i thought as much," he said smoothly, taking a slow, deliberate bite of his food. "jealousy, my dear, is a universal affliction. i am simply more… expressive about mine."

you huffed, looking away, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "you're insufferable and lucky i have the patience for you," you muttered.

he let out a soft chuckle, low and indulgent. "patience," he mused, reaching out to brush a gloved finger against your cheek, slow and deliberate. "such a rare and commendable virtue. though i must wonder..."

his touch trailed lower, tracing the curve of your jaw before finally resting under your chin. with the lightest pressure, he tilted your face ever so slightly upward, forcing you to hold his gaze.

"how much longer will that patience last, i wonder?"

you swallowed, refusing to look away. "depends," you said, barely above a breath. "how many more times do you plan on pulling a gun on me?"

anaxa’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, but his eyes flickered with something softer—something dangerously close to fondness.

"ah," he sighed dramatically, finally releasing you and leaning back into his chair. "a fair question. but, my dear, you wound me. surely you know by now that i only threaten the things i cannot bear to lose?"

you stared at him, feeling both shocked and flustered.

you huffed, shaking your head as you finally relented, letting the conversation settle into something resembling peace. and despite everything—despite his absurd possessiveness, his impossible nature, his maddeningly smug demeanor—you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

because somehow, against all logic, against every ounce of reason—anaxa was yours. and that was something even he, with all his sharp words and sharper wit, could never deny.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

mydei

mydei always found himself in petty competitions with phainon. whether it was who could pick the most apples to who could slay the most enemies, phainon always knew how to push his buttons.

though he might’ve pushed them a little too far..

“afraid you’ll lose? i would’ve never guessed that the great mydeimos was scared of talking to a girl. or are you scared [name] will end up liking me more?”

“deliverer,” mydei said with a scary amount of joy in his voice, “tell me, do you enjoy being humiliated by a kremnoan heir?”

“so is it a deal?”

“if that’s what you wish to call it, we’ll start now. try not to make an utter fool out of yourself. you won't even be able to touch them."

there was absolutely no way mydei was going to even let phainon breathe the same air as you.

phainon grinned, entirely unfazed by mydei’s sharp tone. “oh? possessive already? my, my, what will [name] think of this? surely they've noticed your crush on them by now.”

mydei exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “they will think nothing of it because you will not get the opportunity to so much as look at them.”

phainon laughed, tilting his head with an almost lazy confidence. “bold words. i wonder if you’ll still be saying that once they’re hanging off my arm instead.”

the barely restrained fury in mydei’s eyes was almost comical. “you delude yourself.”

“and you’re stalling.” phainon shrugged, already turning on his heel. “come now, mydeimos. unless, of course, you are afraid?”

mydei scoffed, stepping forward with an air of unwavering confidence. “i fear nothing—least of all a fool with an overinflated ego.”

the competition had begun.

mydei was the first to find you. he's always remembered the places you often frequented, the bathhouse being common among them.

mydei found you tucked away in one of the quieter corners of the bathhouse, steam curling through the air in delicate wisps. he approached silently, his footsteps barely making a sound against the stone floor.

he had always been observant—perhaps more than you'd realized. no matter how much time passed, he never forgot the places you sought comfort in.

"i thought i'd find you here," he murmured, his voice low and steady, cutting through the gentle trickle of water. "it's peaceful here," you said softly, returning your gaze to the water, watching a rubber duck float by.

after a long moment, you glanced at him, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

"you always find me."

mydei's crimson eyes softened, a rare hint of fondness breaking through his composed exterior.

"of course," he said quietly. "you're worth finding."

mydei had a huge advantage over phainon; everything that came out of his mouth was genuine.

you felt your body heat amplifying from his intense gaze, the steam from the bath worsening your situation.

the air between you two felt thick with unspoken words, the steam in the room only adding to the intensity. mydei’s crimson eyes were locked onto you with an unwavering focus, as if trying to read something deeper than just your expressions.

“you know, you really don’t make this easy,” you muttered, trying to divert your thoughts, the heat rising in your chest feeling like it might burst through your skin.

he raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving yours. "make what easy?"

you shifted uncomfortably, the faintest of blush creeping onto your cheeks. “this... this tension.”

mydei tilted his head slightly, the smallest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth. “tension?” he repeated, his voice smooth and calculated. “i’m simply speaking the truth.”

you shot him a glance, his words echoing in your mind. you’re worth finding.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard him say such things before, but this time, it felt different. There was no teasing, no veiled sarcasm—just the raw sincerity that mydei rarely offered.

“you never do anything half-heartedly, do you?” you said, a small sigh escaping your lips.

mydei didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence looming like a silent promise. His gaze softened as he spoke, but there was still a quiet intensity behind it.

"only when it’s worth it," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but it still hit you like a wave.

your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

he moment hung between you two, the weight of his words settling deep within you. mydei’s presence was suffocating in the best way—an intensity that seemed to radiate from him, the kind that made it impossible to think of anything else but him.

you opened your mouth, but the words stuck. something about his steady gaze and the closeness between you left you speechless, your heart thudding in your chest.

“mydei…” you whispered, almost as if testing the air, "would you like to join me in the bath? i'm sue it'll help relieve any sores you might have?"

mydei's gaze flickered to you, and for a brief moment, the quiet intensity in his eyes softened, replaced by a curious, almost amused glint. he took a step closer, the space between you two shrinking even more.

“you offer me company in the bath?” he asked, his voice holding a hint of surprise. “how… bold.”

you could hear the teasing undertone in his words, but it wasn’t as biting as usual. there was something more… tender in the way he spoke, something that made your heart flutter despite the calmness of the moment.

“i only thought it might help you relax,” you replied, keeping your tone light, though your pulse quickened slightly under his steady gaze. “and you’re always so tense. even the crown prince needs to rest now and then.”

mydei let out a quiet chuckle at that, the sound warm and soft, like the fleeting warmth of the bath. "i’m afraid i’ve never had much time for relaxation," he murmured, his tone shifting again, darker, but with an edge of something more vulnerable. "but perhaps you’re right. it’s been... a long time since i allowed myself the luxury."

there was a pause, and you could see the weight of his words settle over him, like he’d just made a decision. his eyes softened, and he took another step closer, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he gently took your hand.

"then, i’ll join you. for once, perhaps i could allow myself this."

as mydei settled comfortably next to you in the bath, he couldn't help but wonder where phainon had been all this time.

and there was a small voice in the back of his head, saying 'if phainon found you first, would you have invited him into the bath with you?'

he glanced sideways at you, his gaze unreadable for a brief moment as he tried to suppress the discomfort he felt at the idea.

as he took in your relaxed face, mydei realized how important such moments were to the two of you. this was just the start of many more scenarios he would spend with you.

if you enjoyed please consider following/liking/reblogging :)

i just love the idea of unhinged anaxa

[monicaalexandraaa]

THE BEST !!!!! Made my day🩷🩷

Pucking Rookie Extra II

Read Pucking Rookie here | ~4.6k words

From me: I probs should have made this two parts but I felt like Harry was suffering at the end of where I wanted to cut it off and I think you'll see that he's suffered enough.

Warnings: angsty and fluffy

Summary: Before the season begins, Charlie tells the team his niece is off limits. After they're together, Harry wants to cry because he loves her so much and is all but dying to say it.

*Preseason*

“Look who decided to grace us with his presence!” Charlie could hear Asher’s voice coming from the next room. He shook his head with an eye roll. His players were loud, cheeky, and very forthcoming with their sexual partners toward each other. Charlie ignored most of it...

“Sorry y’can’t find a woman put up with your sorry ass,” Harry called back.

Charlie loved his team. They were like a giant extended family—a set of twenty-something sons. But the boys were in their twenties, just like his niece. And today he took notice of how they talked about women.

To be fair, they never spoke poorly of women. Honestly, there was no question in Charlie’s mind that they adored women.

Especially his star forward, Harry Styles.

But maybe he had ignored it because he hadn’t really had a conversation with his niece in a long while. Maybe he hadn’t thought about his daughter growing up and being the same age as some future hockey star that would make his skin crawl to know she liked. Or maybe, it just wasn’t his concern because since he had been assistant coach, the team and his extended family were mostly separated and the connection didn’t click for him.

But that was before. He had just gotten off the phone with his brother. He had called and asked if he could give his sweet niece a call. It sounded a little ominous and Charlie was ready to battle like the hot-tempered hockey boys in the locker room just outside his office. In fact, at first, he considered asking the boys for help. They would blindly love getting into it with a stranger. Especially on his behalf. There was no question that the team respected Charlie. “Of course I can, is everything alright?”

“She’s not giving me much to work with,” he explained. “Give me a call back if you figure it out.”

Charlie responded to his brother, but he listened in to the conversation happening behind him.

“Maybe if you didn’t sleep with the entire city there would be a woman to put up with him,” Callie answered Harry’s rebuttal on Asher’s behalf.

“S’not the entire city,” Charlie could practically hear Harry’s eye roll.

“Anything more than five may as well be,” Asher grumbled.

Charlie looked at the family portrait on his desk. Himself, his wife, and their two kids: daughter and son. Captured by the lovely niece he was just thinking about. The quality of her photography was unmatched. She called herself an amateur when she sent the pictures over, but they were lovely. There were a couple photos blown up and framed in his house and he couldn’t thank her enough for capturing the love in his family.

It made him more nervous about her call.

“Hi Sweetheart,” he smiled into the receiver.

“Hi Uncle Charlie,” she sighed. Her voice cracked a bit. “Thank you for calling me. I’m sorry to interrupt and I hope I’m not bothering you and your busy schedule.”

He frowned immediately. He remembered the little girl the day she was born and how she didn’t cry the way some newborns did around strangers. She looked around in fascination even if her eyes weren’t developed yet and couldn’t see more than a centimeter in front of her. It was like she was already looking for that perfect angle when she was just hours old. Hoping to find the right moment to capture in her little mind just like the camera she would hold in several years’ time. He adored his older brother and by proxy this little girl was wrapped around his finger. Even after all this time, his niece was one of his favorite people. He loved seeing her, loved hanging out with her, and loved talking hockey with her.

If she didn’t cry coming into this crazy world, Charlie didn’t think she ever would. So, hearing the sadness in her voice made him miserable. Ready to tell the boys to get in their cars and head to wherever she was and make sure whomever made her cry never did it again. “Sweetheart, you’re no bother. Ever. What’s the matter? You sound upset.”

She took a shaky breath and sniffled. “I-I’m sorry.... I-I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “Kael,” she swallowed, her voice breaking on a cry. “I’m sorry,” she took a deep breath trying to steel herself. “Kael and I are over. I’m moving out your way. I’m going to waitress at The Locker Room. Have you heard of it?”

Good riddance, Charlie thought. Kael Crowe was the worst kind of guy for her. Granted he probably would have thought about that for the best guy there was for her. But Kael didn’t appreciate her the way she deserved, that was obvious. But they had been together for years. For them to be over something bad must have happened.

Of course he had heard of The Locker Room. It was the team’s favorite hangout. “Yeah, Sweetheart. It’s a good place. Louis is a good guy.”

“I figured because I dropped your name,” she swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

He chuckled without humor. “That’s what it’s for, Sweetheart. Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t... not right now. But it’s bad,” she took another shaky breath. “But waitressing isn’t going to be enough,” she sniffled. “Do you have any media leads? I’ll do anything. I’ll run the Instagram account. I’ll take pictures of the old jerseys you want to auction off. I just...”

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll call over right now. You can have whatever you want.”

She took a deep breath and paused. “Thank you, Uncle Charlie. So much. I promise I’ll do whatever you need too. Photos, babysitting, anything.”

“You don’t have to do anything Sweetheart. Promise the guys are going to give you a run for your money.”

“That’s okay,” she laughed dryly. “I’m done with hockey players.”

“You’re jus’ jealous that I can get laid every night and you can’t,” Harry had a shrug in his voice overshadowing the conversation he was having with the girl who would always be a baby in his eyes.

Good. He thought to himself. “Sweetheart,” he said tentatively.

“How your dick hasn’t fallen off I’ll never know.”

“S’jus’ like hockey, practice make perfect,” Harry answered casually making his teammates laugh.

“Yeah?” She asked quietly.

“You know that Kael’s number one rival is on the team,” he reminded her.

“So he is,” she mumbled. “Guess working for you will be two-fold.”

He smiled. “Harry...” he said quietly just in case the boys walked by his office. “He’s a bit... over the top sometimes.”

“I just told you I’m done with hockey players. Especially ones that know they’re the best in the league and are on track to break franchise records in scoring, assists, and fights.”

“You keeping tabs on my players?” He chuckled and was looking forward to adding a picture to his desk of his niece. Couldn’t wait to spend more time with her. He felt awful she was sad, but he was excited to get some quality bonding time.

“I can get laid every night,” Callie countered. “I am also just looking for the one I want to fuck every night.”

“Is that why you hooked up with that hot girl from Seattle? So you could fuck her every night?” Lang chuckled.

“I would love to fuck her every night,” he groaned.

“Me too,” Asher agreed.

“Not with this job,” Harry snorted. Charlie was suddenly and acutely, more aware of the sexuality of his players. Hearing that his beautiful, sweet, kind, and intelligent niece was practically on her way to the clubhouse... he had to give a warning.

He had already warned her of Harry... because it was no secret he enjoyed spending time with women. But the thought of any of his players with his niece made his blood boil. Especially knowing that Kael hurt her in some way that was making her uproot her life.

However, he couldn’t help but notice the tinge of sadness in Harry’s voice. It was overpowered by the idea of murdering his best player if he hurt the sweet girl about to take photos of them all, but he still heard it.

“The boys will love you,” Charlie warned.

“Plenty of people have wives and girlfriends in the league,” Niall reminded his best friend.

“Good for them. M’happy with m’situation,” he affirmed with the same shrug in his voice. “No strings, no heartache, and a whole lot of fun,” he chuckled.

“I’m sure I’ll love them. They probably hate Kael as much as I do,” she sniffled.

He frowned. “Do you need help, Sweetheart? Moving or anything?”

“No... I’m leaving a lot behind. I just have to get out of here.”

“I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.”

“It’s okay,” her voice broke again. “It’s for the best.”

“Call me if you need anything. Are you flying?”

“Yes.”

“Have a safe flight, Sweetheart.”

“Thanks Uncle Charlie. Thank Uncle Ray for me as well.”

Charlie pushed back from his desk and headed to the locker room, his hands in his pockets as he watched the players in their various states of dress and undress. He leaned against the wall casually. “Team meeting,” he called.

They all glanced at their head coach’s office. They all knew Ray was tending to business elsewhere, so they were confused about their meeting. They watched with rapt attention, Lang quieted the younger guys with his captain authority and waited for the announcement.

“My niece is coming to be part of the media staff,” he stated.

“Finally,” Callie cheered. “It’s about time we got some pretty motivation around here.”

“Which is exactly why I’m having this conversation, Calloway,” he narrowed his eyes at him. “She is completely off-limits. She’s done with hockey players.”

“She’s got a thing for hockey players?!” Asher perked up excitedly.

“I just said she’s done with you lot.”

“Hit too many times into the boards, Coach,” Callie smiled. “Can’t understand you sometimes.”

“If I find out that any of you, so much as breathe on her when she doesn’t want it, I’ll kill you. Then bench you,” he threatened. “Even Niall,” he added.

The team looked at one another in surprise. Niall was the golden boy. He was their goalie. The sweetest by far on the team.

Coach meant business.

“Didn’t know you had a niece coach,” Lang mumbled. “Everything okay?”

“No,” he said. “We also hate Kael Crowe more.”

“Oh, y’should have led with that, Coach,” Harry rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Can’t wait t’wreck him for two reasons now.”

“Holy shit, this is your niece, Charlie? Thank God your genetics are weak,” Callie grinned holding his phone in front of him.

“Let me see!” Asher crowded nearby and then the rest of the team was itching and moving to huddle around Callie’s phone to get a look at his niece. Charlie snagged his phone from his hand and dropped it in the trash can without so much as a second glance.

“Hey!”

“Off-limits. All of you,” his eyes paused on Harry for an extra second. “Styles, my office.”

“Ooh...” the sound echoed while Callie stuck his head halfway into the trash bin filled with medical tape and discarded Gatorade bottles to retrieve his phone.

Harry sighed, rolled his eyes, and followed Coach. Once inside, he closed the office door. Harry sat in the seat across from his desk. “You can’t fight Kael, not for my niece.”

“T’be fair coach, I was going t’fight him anyway,” he shrugged. “Y’jus’ gave me another reason t’win.”

“You are not to fuck with my family,” he stated next. “Do you understand?”

“Why are you singling me out?” he frowned.

He was right to, but he didn’t really want his coach knowing of that. He looked up to Charlie and he wanted to earn his respect. “Because I know you’re popular with the ladies... and my niece is too sweet and doesn’t deserve her heart to be broken by the two top forwards in the league.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Crowe isn’t even that good.”

Charlie snorted. “Not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“If you hurt my niece, I’ll kill you. Which is bad for the team. I love this team, Harry.”

“M’not gonna hurt her,” he rolled his eyes. “M’very respectful towards women,” he reminded him.

“From the sound of what I hear, you really respect women.”

Harry felt the slightest bit of shame creep up from his chest, up his throat, and a burning sensation filled his cheeks. “I do,” his voice was quiet. Because he meant it. He may have slept with a lot of women, but he respected them first and foremost.

“My niece is off limits.”

“Isn’t she old enough t’make her own decisions?” He asked. See? Respectful. She deserved to decide herself if Harry was worth her time. Harry didn’t even want a girlfriend. He was happy with his life. It made sense. There wasn’t time for a girlfriend. Wasn’t time for love that made his heart stutter. Retirement. That was when he would find a girl and get the family he always dreamed of having. Right now, was for hockey and sex.

“She’s vulnerable, Harry. She’s going through a hard time right now and she doesn’t need you to be... you while she figures things out.”

Harry frowned and glanced away. It felt like he was in trouble at the principal’s office. “M’not going t’do anything,” he mumbled.

“She’s the best, Harry. Literally the best. You cannot hurt her.”

“Jesus Coach, I won’t. Fuck. Y’gonna give Callie this talk?”

“Callie doesn’t have a list of women in every city. Callie doesn’t come telling the locker room his conquests from the previous night.”

Harry could feel his blood boiling. But he was right. “You’re a tremendous young man, Harry,” Coach said gently, and Harry swallowed down the emotion in his throat, he was angry, frustrated, and hurt. It was all his own doing and for what? So, he wouldn’t hit on Coach’s niece? Whatever, he couldn’t date a woman anyway. Not with his schedule. He wasn’t going to fall in love. He didn’t deserve it.

Coach was right. It was bitter and awful to feel. But he was. Harry wasn’t the love and relationship guy. Not right now.

“I just don’t want my niece to get her heart broken again.”

Harry nodded silently. “We’re done here?” He asked.

“Done,” he responded.

Harry practically jumped out of the chair so quickly it tipped a bit before righting itself. He slammed the office door open so hard he was surprised the glass didn’t shatter. Fuming, he headed toward the rink. He punched the wall hard and then growled out a moan as he clutched his hand to his chest and turned toward the trainer’s office hoping he only sprained his finger and not broke the knuckle for the beginning of the season.

*Present*

Harry came home from a grueling day at practice. His body was aching, and he missed the pretty photographer that seemed as much of a fixture of the rink as net or bench. But she wasn’t truly needed for the day, and she was working at The Locker Room that night,so she wanted to get some things done around the house.

Not that Harry didn’t insist that he could hire someone to clean now that it was worth cleaning. When it was just him, he didn’t care much. But now his princess lived with him, and he didn’t want her living in filth.

“Hi, Harry!” She called.

Harry smiled instantly, all the achiness and exhaustion melted off him. Her voice carried from the living room. Michael and Marc were on the sofa playing a video game while she snuggled on the chair with her book. Harry leaned over the back of her chair and kissed the top of her head. “Hi Rookie,” he grinned and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“Where’s my kiss?” Marc asked.

“Shut up,” Michael rolled his eyes. “You sound desperate, and you have a boyfriend.”

“We both have a mutual understanding about Harry.”

She shook her head, ignoring her friends while she flipped to the next page. “There’s food on the stove; it just finished a little bit ago.”

“It’s delicious,” Marc added. “I didn’t think chickpeas could taste that good but put it with sweet potatoes and veggies and apparently I’m in.”

Harry chuckled to himself and went to the kitchen to make himself a plate.

“We’ll get out of your hair,” Michael said.

“Speak for yourself!” Marc frowned. “I don’t have my study dates anymore.”

Harry brought his plate back to the living room and stood in front of her. She finished her page and looked up with a grin. “Can I help you?”

“Get up,” Harry murmured. She tilted her head at him.

“Why?”

“Jus’ get up,” he sighed. “M’tired, Bunny. Please don’t argue,” he mumbled and yawned as if to prove his point.

She giggled but stood up. Instantly, Harry sat down and with his free hand pulled her down to his lap. She shifted slightly so he could eat comfortably, and she could read without putting too much pressure on his leg or groin. “There’s a whole couch over here you know,” Marc patted the seat beside him with a megawatt grin. He also squished Michael into the other end of the couch at the same time.

“You’re pathetic,” Michael saved his progress and stood. “Thanks for letting us come over, babe,” he squeezed her shoulder as he passed her and headed for the front door. “Marc, let’s get out of their hair.”

He sighed dramatically. “Bye babe,” he mumbled. “Bye Harry,” his voice was flirtier and airy as he spoke to him. Harry smirked around his bite of food.

“Bye Marc. Bye Michael.” Once they heard the door close, she stood from the chair to give Harry some breathing room.

Tried to, anyway.

“Where are y’going?” he grumbled, frowning as he snagged her with one hand and tugged her back almost dropping his yummy food in the process. She sat right back in his lap. She turned, grabbing his plate while he adjusted her so she sat cradled on his legs. She fed him another bite as she spoke.

“I was just giving you space to eat.”

“What ‘bout me says I want space from you?” He questioned, his eyebrows pinching together in the process.

“You’re a fun boyfriend,” she giggled feeding him another bite.

He rolled his eyes. “M-hmm. Why’s it so cold in here?” He asked, taking another forkful of his food. She wiped her thumb on the corner of his mouth as she shrugged.

“To save money. It was just me for most of the day.”

He frowned. His heart aching for her. “Kitten, y’don’t need t’save money on heat. I don’t want you t’be cold. Y’don’t live in your apartment anymore,” he reminded her.

“I know, but still...it seems...wasteful.”

“S’not. Nothing ‘bout you is wasteful, Rookie,” he promised gently and kissed her cheek. “S’cold at the rink, want t’come home t’a warm house with a warm girlfriend.”

She tucked her face into his neck and Harry squeezed his arm around her waist sympathetically. He leaned forward to set the plate on the coffee table and pulled her closer to him and rocked her gently for a moment in his lap. “I suppose m’partial to this though,” he practically moaned kissing her neck. The need to say I love you was so prominent. It was aching to leave his mouth. She felt so good in his arms. He wanted her to melt into his body so they could meld into one person, and he would never have to leave her. “Missed you,” he mumbled instead.

“Oh, thank God. I missed you too. I thought I was insane. It wasn’t that long but I missed you anyway.”

He practically groaned. “Don’t go to work, Bunny...”

“Harry!” She giggled. “I have to,” she rubbed his back and pulled his face from her throat so she could read his eyes. “You don’t have to come out—”

“Of course, m’going t’come out. Jus’ because we’re dating doesn’t mean m’gonna change everything. I just get to fuck you now,” he cupped her jaw and parted her lips with his own. He had that boyish smile pressed against her mouth as she laughed into the kiss.

“You had a long day though, you should stay—”

“I can’t be away from y’for this long, Rookie. I’ll go insane.”

She opened her mouth to say something but at that moment her phone rang. “I’m sorry I have to take this,” she sighed. “Hello...? This is she. Thank you for getting back to me,” she listened closely, and he could see her thinking actively as she listened, calculating, and questioning something that was said. “I just don’t understand how that’s possible. I’ve had this policy for years. Since I first got my license. I’ve been such a loyal customer and—”

Harry’s lips parted. “Oh, shit,” he whispered.

She looked up at him and realization colored her face as well as his own. She put together that Harry knew exactly what happened with his quiet expletive. “I’m so sorry, can you please hold on one second?” She pulled her phone from her ear and muted it. “What?”

“Is that your car insurance?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah, I got a notice that my policy was terminated and I—”

Harry sucked his lip into his mouth and sighed. “That’s my fault.”

She stared at him. “Why?” She asked.

“Well... I figured y’were driving m’car it would be easier t’have you on m’insurance. So... I jus’ kinda told them y’lived here and...”

“How did you get my information?” She asked her eyebrows pinched together. She didn’t seem mad.

“Well... I really only needed your birthday—”

She gasped as the understanding came over her in an instant. “Is that why you asked about my birthday the first time I came over?” She whispered. Her eyes watered almost instantly, and Harry frowned.

He asked for her birthday months ago. He put her on his car insurance months ago. They weren’t even a thing. Not even in the way the rest of the team insinuated when they were at the airport, or when she wore Niall’s jersey.

“Yes,” he nodded and brushed his thumb beneath her eye even though no tear had fallen. “S’when I gave you my car t’borrow,” he shrugged. “I didn’t want you t’have t’worry ‘bout anything—”

She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing as she dropped her eyes to her lap. She put the phone back to her ear after unmuting. “Sorry about that, I figured out what happened... I’m sorry for the confusion, everything is all set. Thank you for the help,” she hung up and she looked at Harry, her face pouting so cutely Harry wanted to take a picture of her himself. Honestly, he wanted to capture every emotion that crossed her pretty face on film so he could look at it when he missed her. Even if she was only gone for a few hours. “Harry,” she said seriously, her voice catching as she said his name. It practically broke his heart to hear her say it with so much admiration. He didn’t deserve it. She was perfect and she deserved so much better than a hot-tempered hockey player who was busy seven months out of the year.

“Yeah?” He asked tentatively. Maybe she was upset. An overreach yet again. But he wanted her to have the best of everything. Car insurance to make her safer. A car that wasn’t going to break down at a moment’s notice. An art gallery displaying beautiful photos of the sports world she loved perhaps as much as he did if not more.

“How did you get the reputation you did?” She began and Harry felt his stomach nearly fall out from him. She was in his arms, unmoving, but he was so scared she was going to bolt. Why wouldn’t she? He overstepped a lot. He was clingy and he was gone so much. He had never been so in love with someone, and he couldn’t even tell her. Somehow, he offended her, and he couldn’t help but think about when coach had told him she was off limits. Harry didn’t deserve love because of his schedule and who he was. Top player in more than one way. No wonder coach threatened him. Here he was not enough once more and now she realized it.

“No one has ever been as kind to me as you. Or as thoughtful. I feel so adored—so seen by you,” Harry’s heartbeat flew.

He was wrong. She wasn’t upset. He felt his throat tighten on his vocal cords as he tried to say something to stop her so he could beat her to the punch. But she left him speechless. Utterly stunned that she was going to say it before him. “I love you so much I can’t keep it in any longer,” she held his gaze as she said it, only blurred slightly by her own unshed tears. “You don’t have to say it if I’m too soon or if—”

Harry crushed her to his chest and buried his face in her hair against her neck once more. He tried to work his jaw to loosen his vocal cords, but the ache wouldn’t go away. Then he sniffled unwillingly. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You weren’t supposed t’say it first, Bunny. I wanted t’say it after our first real night together,” he croaked. “I love you so much, I’ve waited m’whole life for you, Rookie. I don’t deserve you or—”

“Harry,” she cooed. “Baby,” she frowned cupping his face. “Of course I deserve you. You’ve been taking care of me from the moment you caught me from slipping on the ice the first day I met you,” she reminded him. “You have cared for me in ways no one ever has. You could have said it, baby,” she peppered kisses along his hairline so sweetly it made him want to cry harder.

Perhaps he was hiding all these years about how badly he wanted this kind of love. How much he wanted to love someone. All the women he had been with were lovely in their own way. Served a purpose, but it wasn’t real. They couldn’t be. It never would have worked. Now that he knew what this felt like with the beautiful woman who took pictures of his team, it seemed so obvious.

“I love you so, so much,” she whispered in his ear and clutched to him despite the fact she knew she probably turned his leg numb from holding her for so long. “I’m sorry I pushed you away, baby. You didn’t deserve that... I don’t deserve you. You’re perfect in every way. I wouldn’t change a second of our relationship or an ounce of your personality. I know we joke, but I was right: any girl would be lucky to have you and I’m the luckiest there is.”

Harry was hopeful the guys never found out that he burst into tears over the pretty girl on his lap telling him she loved him for the first time.

But even if they did, he wouldn’t mind. He was too in love to care.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissinthekitchen @boopookie @indierockgirrl @stylesfever @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @mads3502

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl @emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10 @tulips4harry @spinninc @sassamanda77 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @mp-269 @jmp1494 @fangirl509east @sideboobrry11 @drewrry @dutchtheatrelore @copiastricycle @mypolicemanharryyy @harry2121 @inharryshelter @fandomxo

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[lemonlover1110]

Sylus

Summary: Sylus struggles to put your baby girl to sleep.

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

You’ve never thought you’d find Sylus in this situation. You’ve pictured your husband doing a lot of things– But this? Never in a million years. 

You want to step into the room, but you can’t allow yourself to interrupt. The scene fills your stomach with butterflies, and reminds you why you fell for him all over again. The man really has a softer side that many don’t get to witness. You see it often; but no one will see it as much as her.

“Twinkle, twinkle– I guess you don’t like it.” Sylus’ singing is cut off by his baby’s cries. He’s rocking her back and forth, hoping to get his baby girl to fall asleep. He promised you that he’d take over so you could take the night off, but tonight his babygirl is as energetic as ever.

Though the singing stops, the crying doesn’t. He shushes her before telling her, “I promise I won’t sing again.”

The shrill cries stop, but his baby’s eyes are still wide open. She’s a difficult one to fall asleep, and he knows exactly who she got that from. Offering money won’t work with her yet, so he’s forced to play a waiting game. 

“I’m trying to spend time with your mom, love. C’mon, help me out.” She laughs at the tired look on her father’s face, and Sylus can’t help but smile. She’s laughing at his misery, but at least it’s a cute laugh.

“I’ll get payback one day.” Sylus says as he lifts her in the air before blowing a raspberry on her tummy. Another laugh comes from the little one. He kisses her chubby cheeks, pure joy overtaking him. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute, I’d be mad otherwise.” He tells her, earning a coo from the energetic girl. He chuckles.

“I can handle her.” You finally step into the room, cutting off the sweet moment between Sylus and your baby girl. You don’t want him to get frustrated with her, even when he looks overjoyed to just hold her.

“It’s fine.” Sylus assures you. He’s smiling down at her. “I can handle my little sweetheart.”

[jeonginsleftcheek]

sweet tooth

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff

wc: 2.8k

synopsis: a sweet afternoon with your boyfriend turns into something more when you decide to tease him.

warnings: oral(f), unprotected sex, creampies

a/n: if you remember surprise!, this is the same pairing but you don't have to read that one to enjoy this! thanks for giving me the idea @jehhskz 🩷

~ masterlist

You were just finishing putting some chocolate chip cookies on a plate, before placing it on the tray with two glasses of chocolate milk when your boyfriend startled you, his arms wrapping around you.

Hyunjin nuzzled his face in your neck and closed his eyes, a small blissful smile playing on his lips.

"I told you to wait in the living room." you pouted even though your body melted back into his. "You're ruining the surprise."

"My eyes are closed." he teased, smirking against the sensitive skin on the side of your neck. You wanted to protest but any time you found yourself in his arms, you became putty. The effect he had on you couldn't be ignored.

"You're something else." you smirked and shook your head, adding the last detail on the tray, a little vase with yellow flowers in it. "Did you prepare the blankets?"

"Mhm." Hyunjin sighed, nuzzling into your hair. He was getting impatient, all he wanted was to finally have you in his arms after an exhausting week of work, to steal as many moments alone with you as he could. But, he didn't whine at you, knowing you wanted to make this evening as perfect as it could be, he knew that the little details meant a lot to you.

"Go to the living room, Jinnie." you chuckled. "I'll be right there. And no peeking."

"Alright, alright. Walking away, eyes closed." he let go of you and raised his arms in surrender.

"Be care-"

"Ow!" it was already too late for your warnings as Hyunjin bumped into the furniture, making you snicker.

"Laugh while you can!" he yelled playfully from the living room and you kept chuckling to yourself, waiting for him to finally sit down on the couch. You grabbed the tray and carefully made your way to the living room, sneaking a glance at Hyunjin and checking if he still had his eyes closed like you had asked him.

You giggled, setting the tray on the coffee table and almost melting at the anticipation written in his face and body language.

"Can I open my eyes already?" he asked impatiently and you laughed, sitting down next to him.

"Yes, you can open your eyes." you said and Hyunjin blinked a few times, his eyes widening and a gasp leaving his lips before they curled into the sweetest smile.

"You drew a heart?" he asked cutely, you wanted to make his chocomilk even sweeter by drawing a heart on the surface with cocoa powder. "And the flowers, they're for me?"

"Of course they're for you, silly." you chuckled and he laughed, wrapping his arms around you and leaning his head on your shoulder.

"You're adorable, you know that? You really spoil me with so much love." he sighed happily, relaxing against you.

"I can't help it, I like doing these things for you." you giggled as you held him, holding your entire world in your arms.

"And never stop doing them, please." he nuzzled into your neck, closing his eyes for a moment as you reached over and threw the fluffy blanket over your bodies.

"I won't, I promise." you said as you got comfortable on the couch, grabbing the remote and pressing play.

One of your favorite cartoons, Powerpuff Girls started playing and Hyunjin let out a chuckle, delighted to see your happy face while watching it. At this moment, he really didn't care what was playing on the screen as long as he got to hold you and spend time with you, it was just one of those days where he had missed you and needed you close.

"Don't judge me." your cheeks heated up at the sound of his chuckle.

"I'm not, I think it's adorable." he poked your side, making you squirm for a moment.

"Just drink your milk." you teased him back and he mirrored the smirk that was playing on his face.

Hyunjin reached for his glass and drank the chocolate milk, looking absolutely adorable as you stared at him with hearts in your eyes. You couldn't believe that this was the same man who was so crazy desperate for you yesterday when you got home from work that he took you right there against the wall, next to the front door. A shiver ran down your spine as you remembered the events from last night, the way his hands gripped at your hips and the way he panted against your neck, whispering how good you feel and how much he loves you.

You drank your chocomilk quickly, both of you munching on the cookies as you commented on the cartoon playing on the tv. The living room filled with laughter as you enjoyed the peaceful evening with your boyfriend, feeling completely relaxed in his arms. Knowing that the weekend was coming around and that both of you had free time gave way to so many possibilities that involved resting and spending quality time together.

As it got later and Hyunjin's body became warmer all pressed against yours, your hand which was resting on his chest started sliding down to his abs. You caressed him absentmindedly, almost missing the way his breath hitched whenever you slid your hand a little lower, fingertips dipping under the blanket. Hyunjin was starting to have trouble concentrating on the tv as the images started to blur, his mind was starting to be occupied only by your presence and your touches. It seemed as if you were unaware of what you were doing to him and it frustrated him in a way he wouldn't dare admit that he liked.

But you knew, of course you did. After all, you felt him shiver each time you dipped your hand lower and you could hear his heart racing where your ear was pressed against his chest. You were enjoying the effect you had on him just touching him over his shirt in a relaxed manner, like you weren't taking his breath away with each caress.

Your hand moved lower, now completely under the blanket as you touched his thigh, sliding your hand on the sensitive inner part. Hyunjin's breath hitched and you felt his muscles flex under your palm as you gently moved your hand up and down, coming closer to his core each time you went up.

"Y/n." he tried to chuckle but instead his voice came out unsteady, in a mix of a moan and gasp. You smirked against his chest as your palm pressed on his growing bulge and Hyunjin gripped at your arm, letting out another strained moan.

"Doll." he groaned when you palmed him slowly, feeling him twitch under your touch. You finally looked up at him and electricity rushed through you when you saw just how needy and wrecked he looked. His eyes were half lidded, full of desire for you, his cheeks were rosy and his lips parted as he stared at you.

You knew you were playing with fire now but you couldn't care less, the thought of having him in the palm of your hand literally and figuratively was making you feel excited. You squeezed him and kept touching him as he spread his legs a little and moaned, throwing his head back, letting you have your way with him. Your thighs pressed together at the sight of him falling apart for you so feeling bold, you started sliding your hand into his underwear. As soon as your fingertips reached the tip of his length, Hyunjin looked at you darkly and gripped your wrist gently.

"Tsk. Naughty girl." he smirked and just like that the tables were turned. You barely had time to gasp as he manhandled you and pinned you down on the couch, his strong arms caging you in.

"H-Hyunjin!" you whimpered, your eyes wide as another shot of electricity ran through your entire body, goosebumps rising on your skin.

"You want me to play with you a little, hm?" Hyunjin teased, the blanket thrown aside as his large hands ended up on your waist.

You opened your mouth to speak but he interrupted you.

"You could've just asked, doll. You know how crazy I am about you." he kept smirking as he leaned his face closer to yours.

Your breath hitched, anticipating his lips on yours, even though you've been with him for almost six months, you could never get enough of him. It was as if you wanted him more and more with each passing day spent with him.

Hyunjin was equally as infatuated with you, gravitating towards you as if you were pulling him in and his lips pressed against yours, creating sparks between you. Your hands instantly flew to grab at him but before you could, he grabbed a hold of your wrists and pinned them above your head.

"So needy. Couldn't even wait for us to go to our bedroom." Hyunjin smirked, teasing you by being so close but not giving you exactly what you wanted. You whined, your body arching towards him as you gave him a little smirk.

"I don't think that fucking around the apartment is foreign to us." you retorted and Hyunjin chuckled, the need in his eyes growing.

"You're right, doll. We're too horny to be all fancy about it." he grinned and crashed his lips on yours.

You gasped and his tongue immediately found its way inside your mouth, licking at you and savoring. Both of you tasted sweet, like the chocolate milk you were just drinking and the sweet taste was adding onto the excitement that was building inside you. He pressed his body against yours, caging you in completely and when his middle touch yours, you felt just how hard he got only from the little back and forth between you.

You weren't any better than him, by now your panties were almost completely soaked just because he pinned you down and had you under him. Your cheeks became red with embarrassment when you realized just how much power he had over you.

"Getting shy, doll?" Hyunjin teased as he slowly grinded against you.

"N-no." you whimpered, arching up into him immediately and Hyunjin chuckled, letting go of your hands so he could touch your heated cheeks gently, a sweet gesture amid the fire that was burning between your bodies and your hearts.

"So cute." he continued teasing you and before you could protest, he kissed you again. Your arms, now free, wrapped around his shoulders immediately and your palms ended up on the upper back muscles that just seemed to be more and more defined lately. You touched him, your nails already digging into his skin as he bit on your bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth. Hyunjin's kisses became greedy as he left them on your jaw, down your neck to your collarbone.

"You don't need this." he smirked and grabbed the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and tossing it aside. "Or these." he added, sliding your shorts down with your underwear and throwing the items somewhere behind him, leaving you completely bare before him.

Hyunjin's kisses continued down to your breasts, worshipping them as he wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked, his hands on your inner thighs, spreading you as he moved them gently up and down on your sensitive skin. He kissed down your stomach to your core, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts and play with them.

"I love chocolate milk but you taste even sweeter." he smirked as he slid down between your legs, looking at your wet core clenching around nothing.

"You're a fool." you let out a little whine of embarrassment as he stared at you intently.

"A fool for you." his hot breath ghosted over your clit, sending tingles through you.

"And cheesy." you whined again and he laughed.

"Mhm, and you love it." he smirked again and before you could think of a comeback, his lips attached to your clit, wrapping around the sensitive nub and sucking on it gently, the tip of his tongue adding onto the feeling. Your legs trembled as he played your body with just his lips and you couldn't help but let out moans and whispers of his name. Hyunjin hummed against you, his tongue darting out to lick a stripe on your wet pussy before he pushed inside, parting your lips and tasting you.

A loud moan left your lips as your hands flew to his hair, fingers digging into his scalp as you finally had something to grip onto and pull. He's been letting his hair grow out lately and the little tufts that would stick in different directions were the cutest thing ever, seeing him all messy in the morning was a sight that warmed your heart and woke up the cuteness aggression inside you. But, what you loved especially was that now, whenever he was making a mess of you, you could make a mess of him too.

And Hyunjin enjoyed it, the feeling of your fingers tangled in his hair and the sweet pain mixed with pleasure as you pulled on it fueled his desire for you even more. He moaned into you, sending shivers up your spine as his tongue lapped at your sweet juices, swallowing everything you gave him. Your grip on his hair became harder when he slowly pushed two fingers inside you, his tongue now playing with your sensitive clit.

"Hyun-Hyunjin!" you groaned, waves of pleasure coursing through your entire body as your toes curled. He easily found the sweet spot inside you, the tips of his fingers brushing against it.

You trembled as he fucked you at a steady pace, his fingers touching all the right spots inside you, his pretty plump lips wrapped around your clit. You were already close, remembering how even the first time you fucked on the kitchen table, you came so fast that it left you deeply embarrassed.

But you didn't care in this moment while he worked hard to bring you to your release and you shamelessly came in less than a few minutes, spilling on his fingers and tongue. Hyunjin groaned, lapping it all up and licking at his fingers eagerly.

"I need you, doll." his voice was raspy as he shakily pulled at his clothes, the items joining the pile of yours on the floor.

"I need you too, Jinnie." your voice was equally as spent but you weren't even near to being done as your legs wrapped around him and brought him closer. Hyunjin slowly pushed inside you, filling you up and touching all the places that only he had the privilege to feel. Your eyes fluttered shut as you clutched onto him, letting him rock your body with his.

"So tight, always so good for me, doll." Hyunjin groaned, losing himself inside you. You could only let out a moan of pleasure as his tip kept brushing against your spot, torturing you in the sweetest way as he set a slow pace.

"Look at me." he demanded in a low voice and you let out a whimper as you opened your eyes and looked into his, noticing the desire swimming inside them. "Just like that, doll. Keep your eyes on me." He continued moving inside you, still keeping the slow and deliberate drag just to drive you completely insane, like only he knew how to.

His thrusts got deeper and harder gradually and your eyes fluttered again, the pleasure building up and becoming too much.

"Don't look away, doll." Hyunjin smirked, picking up the pace. "I want you to look at me while I make you fall apart."

A series of moans and gasps left your lips and your hands slid up from his shoulders to his hair, pulling on it again and Hyunjin snapped in that moment. His hands gripped at your thighs harshly, folding you so your knees touched your shoulders before he started fucking into you harder. You couldn't keep your eyes open when he was rocking your entire world and pulling you apart before putting you back together again.

You kept pulling on his hair, watching the way he trembled above you, his eyes completely taken over by lust as he held you down.

"Gonna cum, doll. Be a good girl and take it all." Hyunjin groaned deeply and all you could was whimper and take it as he exploded and filled you up with his warm cum. The feeling of him claiming you drove you over the edge too and your pussy clenched around him as you came, milking him completely in the process.

His eyes were the ones to roll back this time as you squeezed him, prolonging his high as much as you could. He collapsed on top of you, face tucked in your neck as a blissful smile spread on his face.

"You didn't finish your choco milk." you teased when you finally caught your breath and Hyunjin chuckled.

"I got my dose of sweetness." he looked up at you with a smirk. "For now." he added, his eyes darting between you and your bedroom door.

You gave him a look and he chuckled, holding you tighter.

"I love you. Thanks for the flowers and the choco heart." he nuzzled into you and you giggled.

"I love you too."

Your weekend couldn't have started off better.

@moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @hwangjoanna @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @minniesverse @skzdreamer13 @0325ale @j-ji-jia @shannthewriter @mhluvie @my-neurodivergent-world @hyyunjinnn @spookybuttsstuff-blog @pancake-freckle @felixsbrowniesarmystayengene @minhooofr

[ssahotchnerr]

Hello!!! I’ve got a request. Say wife!reader works in the fbi or in some kind of specialty field she gets called in to consult the team for the first time. Would they be professional or sweet with Hotch? Would also be so cute to see how the team reacts to their dynamic!!

expert opinion

definitely an equal part of both 💓 cw; consultant fem!reader, typical cm case violence, established relationship, fluff <333

As you approached the door to his office, you could already hear the familiar sound of your husband’s voice from the other side.

You smiled to yourself; hearing his confident conversational voice, putting out fires from the sound of it. After a second, you rapped your knuckles against the door – already slightly ajar – and leaned in hesitantly, wary of disturbing him in case the conversation he was having was of any particular importance.

Aaron's eyes lifted at the intrusion, his eyes softening from his professional rigidity - revealing a flicker of warmth - at his wife. Your face equally formed into one of gentle greeting. Into the phone, he said, "I'll have to give you a call back."

Hanging up and approaching you, his lips quirked into a smile. "Hi sweetheart."

"Hi honey," His head tilted downward, his lips meeting yours in a quick, sweet kiss. "Hope I wasn't interrupting anything important."

"No, no. You're right on time, I knew I married you for a reason." His teasing left him lightly, before his dark brows drew over his eyes. It wasn't as profound if you were anyone else; there was a gentleness to them, more quizzical than anything else. "I appreciate you taking the time to come in." His playfulness returned for just a moment more, "I'll have to show you how much later. Did you get a chance to review the file I sent over?"

"Is that a promise?' You raised your eyebrows, gaining a cheeky smirk from Aaron - who was never one to go back on his word. "And profusely, yes."

"Perfect." Something to look forward to after whatever unpleasantness awaited on this case. "C'mon, the team's waiting."

His hand found the small of your back, shutting his door and guiding you down the walkway. He was to your right, creating a sense of protectiveness from the bullpen, and kept the natural affection under wraps.

His touch only disappeared as you entered the roundtable room, the sound of your heels against the vinyl flooring drawing focus. Aaron squared his shoulders, strictly switching into Unit Chief mode.

"Oh, we got the Mrs. today?" Morgan commented as the two of you entered in perfect sync. "Hotchners taking the BAU over?"

You grinned, "Nice to see you too, Derek."

"My lovely!" Penelope abandoned her spot at the front near the screen to throw her arms around you in an embrace. She squeezed you, tilting you side to side. "How I've missed you!"

"Keeping Aaron on his toes, I hope." Dave chimed in, looking far too amused for his own good.

"Of course," you laughed.

"We can make nice later." Aaron commented, causing Penelope to release you and circling back to the subject at hand. If he hadn't, the team would’ve been more than happy to spend an hour catching up with you. "She's here to assist us with further analyzing the COD of the victims."

With the unsub's sadistic way of dissecting an individual, your expertise as a forensic pathologist made you more than qualified to retrace the story written within the body; each wound a deliberate signature etched in the flesh. You knew how to separate chaos from precision, rage from ritual. Where others saw horror, you saw patterns; the twisted messages left behind.

So when Aaron called and asked for your help, you hadn't hesitated to free up a portion of your day.

"Our hero." JJ shuddered, crossing her arms in disgust. "It sure is something."

"I'm more than happy to help." You assured, your tone warm and sincere, leaving no doubt that your willingness was genuine. "Aaron sent over the ME's findings earlier, and I have a few insights that I hope will be helpful."

His first name rolled off your tongue, it not even occurring to you to refer to him as Hotch, and why would you? He's always been Aaron. The others, however, found it quite novel, trading bemused looks with each other around the table. 

Aaron pulled a chair out for you, only taking his own once you were seated. There was a gleam of pride in his eyes as he prompted, "What have you got for us?"

"So, it appears..."

As you listed off your findings, Aaron couldn’t help but listen in complete awe of you. He’d known you were intelligent, of course, and he was aware – in an abstract sense – that you were good at your job, but this was the first time he’d seen you in your element.

Referencing parts of the autopsy report, distinguishing patterns in the crime scene images - the unrestrained rage and the violence. You even pointed out a signature hidden within, something so minuscule it could've been easily missed. And all through your spiel you didn't bat an eye or hesitate - you were completely confident in what you knew. A true professional.

While Aaron was paying thorough attention to your points, he couldn’t help but set aside some room to fawn over you, admiration filling his chest.

His wife was a badass, to say the least.

"Wow." Emily blinked once you finished, turning towards him. "Can we keep her?"

"I wouldn't argue against that." He exchanged a glance with you, his lips lifting lightly at the ends. Thank you.

Your hand immediately found his under the table, squeezing gently. You’d do the same for me.

[todoriin]

can call me obsessed | phainon x gn!reader

clingy, sad, soppy phainon, fluff, sfw, unedited, modern!au

phainon: Good morning baby! phainon: Thinking of you :( phainon: I hope you have a good day!

phainon: I just walked by a cafe that you would like phainon: We should go soon!

phainon: Goodnight my love :> phainon: Sweet dreams phainon: I hope you're sleeping well phainon: And on time phainon: Don't stay up, ok? phainon: I love you

For nearly a week and a half, Phainon has been texting you relentlessly. After you had told him you needed some space, that you weren't feeling like a priority to him and needed a break to gather your bearings, he had agreed with barely concealed disappointment, looking as if you had torn his heart out and stomped it flat.

Phainon was always someone who had one foot in many doors, an overachiever of sorts, and for how busy he was, he did try his best to accomodate and spend time with you. However, one person can only stomach so much before other things start feeling arbitrary, and after many rain checks and late meetups, you didn't want to be the thing to hold him back and drag him down.

You didn't want to lose him, and you still loved him dearly, but sometimes love is not enough. You needed time to see if this relationship was something you and him still wanted.

"You're not breaking up with me, right?" He asks through a wobbly frown, eyes silently begging and saying what he didn't after you proposed some distance from each other.

"No, I just- you're a busy person, Phainon, and I'm not feeling like a priority right now, or like you even want to be with me," you reasoned.

"What? You've always been a priority to me, and I do want to be with you, I don't want anyone else but you!"

"You say that, but it's difficult to believe when it feels like you've put me on the backburner."

"I'm sorry, I'll do better, we can work through it, I promise!"

"It's not your fault, Phainon, life gets in the way sometimes. I just need space to figure things out."

"I don't want space," he frowns, holding your hand even tighter, refusing to let you go. "I especially don't want space from you."

"Phainon..."

"What can I do to fix this?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Give me some time, I'll... I'll let you know when I'm ready."

Eventually, he relents, but he voices his resistance and asks for one last kiss for the road. You grant it, and he pulls you in and breathes you in like air, as if you were the oxygen he needed before diving into deep waters and swimming against tough currents, even refusing to let you go for a moment so he can sneak more than just one kiss, pressing his lips against yours again and again.

He lets you go after that, staring at you like a kicked puppy as you walk away.

You never said he couldn't text you, so here you were, reading multiple texts that he sends a week, most of them detailing how he was thinking of you or missing you. It seems as if you occupied a lot of space on his mind, and he was determined to let you know whenever you did.

You would offer a reply here and there, and he would respond with great enthusiasm, trying his best to keep the conversation going; to prompt more out of you.

phainon: [ photo ] phainon: Look at this cute dog I saw! He had a little hat! phainon: You would have loved him haha phainon: Wish you were here phainon: ... phainon: Like. A lot

At the end of the day, you've realised how much you wanted him around too, and it was tough being without him. It seems as though he feels the same, if the texts were anything to go by.

you: can we talk?

For some reason, he doesn't respond within a close time frame this time. No, your message is left on delivered for a while, and you're left wondering if you've really messed up this time, or maybe you're too late and Phainon is finally fed up. Maybe he realised he deserved better than what you could give him.

Half an hour later, the doorbell to your apartment rings, and it's Phainon's voice that comes through the intercom.

"I'm here," he sounds breathless through the speaker, and you're so overwhelmed by the suddenness of the situation that all you can do is mutter a small 'come in', and hear him slam the door behind him.

You wait by the entrance, slightly nervous as you bite your nails. Why didn't he respond to you? Did he drop everything to come to yours?

A barrage of impatient knocks attack your door.

"Take me back," he pleads as soon as you open it. He has a big bouquet of flowers in one hand and his heart in the other, offering both to you with great desperation.

There are subtle deteriorations to his appearance- his hair is slightly matted, as if he has been running a hand through it, there are barely noticeable eyebags on his perfect skin, along with a few blemishes, and his cheeks are a little sunken. It seems like he hasn't been taking care of himself since you last saw him.

You forgot why you even asked for space in the first place.

Soulmates is a concept made by people trying to justify love and wholeness that being with someone brings you, that needed to put a label on this irreplaceable feeling of knowing you love someone and they love you in kind.

The feeling that Phainon brings you, and it's never been more clear that he's the only one for you.

However, in your daze, he has seemingly mistook your silence for rejection, watching your expression remain unreadable with a sense of impatience that creeps up his chest, squeezes his throat, and begs for an answer.

To your bewilderment, he drops to his knees, the bouquet falling to the floor as he wraps his arms around your hips and thighs, face pressed against your lower stomach.

"Please?" He pleads.

"Whoa, Phainon, stand up!" You exclaim, steadying yourself by putting your hands on his shoulders.

He shakes his head with firm resolution. "Not until you take me back, so please?"

"Phainon-"

"- I'll be good, I'll be everything you need!"

"I love you."

That silences him real quick, and all of a sudden he's jumping to his feet and wrapping you in his arms, keeping you pressed close to his chest until there's no space in between you. Then, Phainon breathes a sigh of relief, as if all is right with the world again.

He's all over you as soon as you let him in. When the bouquet is placed on the table, he's clinging to you like no other, laying on your lap and hugging your waist.

You fear he may burst into tears any moment.

The rest of the day is spent together. You go out for lunch, Phainon pays, you stay in for dinner, one that you cook, and things fall right back into place. He tells you about what he's been up to, you ask to know more, and he does the same, listening with great eagerness, and as his thumb rubs circles into the back of your hand, you realise how privileged you are to be loved by him.

When the moon is high in the sky and most of the lights in homes have been turned off, Phainon lays on top of you under your covers, his cheek resting on your chest and arms wrapped around your sides.

"I've missed you," he confesses while your hands run through his hair, untangling any knots they get stuck in.

"I missed you too, I'm sorry for being distant and thank you for being patient," you say. "You're too good to me."

He shakes his head. "I realised you were right, I've always had a tendency to keep myself busy and never give myself a break, I didn't realise how important that was until you brought it up."

"Still, I think there were better and less selfish ways for us to get there, but I appreciate that you were considerate of me, I needed some time to gather my thoughts. I love you."

Phainon presses a lingering kiss to your collarbone. "I love you more, I'm happy you're feeling better now, my love."

You hum happily, but suddenly, he wails very quietly, wrapping his arms around you even tighter. Before you can ask what's wrong, he speaks up.

"Never do that to me again, never ask for space again. If something's bothering you, we'll work through it together," he pleads. "Being without you was like prolonged torture, I don't want to go through that again."

You can't help but laugh softly. "I'm sorry, but I'm here now, right?"

"And I'm not letting you go ever again."

© TODORIIN 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 · 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧

contents: fluff. established relationship. you always sleep better when you're with him. 600 wc.

It’s been long since darkness cloaked the firmament and Sylus is absorbed in the tranquil silence of his studies overlooking documents and official records. A common routine given his atypical profession in dealing with illegal weaponry and other business practices that caught his interest. His fingers idly tapping against the armrest come to a halt when faint footsteps reach his ears. The sound draws nearer and closer with each pace and the corner of his mouth tugs upward into a smirk while he waits in anticipation.

“Kitten, shouldn’t you be in bed where I had left you?” Sylus meets your heavy-lidded gaze and registers your appearance as a cashmere blanket wraps around your shoulders and your hair tousled from what seems to be troubled sleep. Despite his question, he beckons you with a gesture and you settle across his lap, your body turning in towards him to nuzzle your face into his neck with your arms coiling around him. He gently shifts your weight closer to him for a more secure hold and lays a sweet kiss on your head once your movement stills.

“You’re more comfy… way more comfy. I prefer this much more.” You hum and return his kiss by brushing your lips against his skin. He can feel you ease into him as he studies your adorable sleepy face and his heart swells with so much love and tenderness for you. He loves it when you seek him out even when you've spent the entire day together and still can't get enough of him.

“Is that so? I suppose I’m more comfortable than a bed, huh?” He strokes your hair, lulling you deeper into your drowsiness and you can only muster a noise of contentment. He wonders if he can emulate the same sense of comfort you provide him when he’s resting his head on your lap. The sweet and intimate sensation of your fingers caressing through his silver locks with the lingering scent of your perfume makes everything seem right in the world even if just brieftly. “You know I can’t work when you’re in my lap like this. I have too many distractions that way. You and the cute way you snore.”

You grunt softly. “I do not snore… do you really want me to leave?” You slowly unravel yourself from him with a small pout on your lower lip, and he softens with the realization that maybe he shouldn’t have teased you when you’re laced with sleep. You feel something warm against your forehead through your bleary eyes, and he can’t have his darling feeling unloved and unwanted by mistake and he intends to remedy that. His hand reaches up and moves your head back where it was moments ago and you are pliant under his touch.

“Now, I didn’t say you had to go anywhere. Stay here with me. I promise you won’t get in the way.” Sylus cooes you gently, his hand smooths along your back and he rests his cheek against your hair as he savors the feeling of having you in his arms. “I love you, sweet kitten. Sleep now. I’ll hold you until you do.” You murmur you love him back and for a few minutes, there’s nothing but silence and the steady rhythm of your breathing as your consciousness begins to drift.

Sylus gazes down at you with a fond and affectionate expression, whispering quiet reassurances that he hopes will reach you in your dreams. He resumes skimming through the paperwork he was doing before, his actions slower and deliberate so as not to wake you. Although his focus has shifted, he enjoys having you here with him like this and he could certainly get used to it.

[gloomwitchwrites]

can we get a quick drabble of the tf141 going on a super long deployment and finding out their kid snuck their favorite plushie or toy car etc into one of the duffle bags as a good luck charm

Ah! Anon! I love this idea! It's so cute. Dad!141 is a fav. I adore picturing them as fathers so this had me in a chokehold. I hope you enjoy these little double drabbles I put together!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings: fluff, dad!141, minor language

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

Sweaty and jetlagged, John walks off the military plane with a weary step. Simon, Johnny, and Kyle follow behind, the three men talking softly to each other as John walks ahead of them. It’s a quick stop for a meal before he finally finds his cot in their private tent.

Dropping his duffle on the cot beside him, he unzips the bag, and freezes. On top, resting on his uniform, is his daughter’s teddy bear. It’s light brown in color, missing an arm and an eye, the red bow around its neck is frayed from years of love.

John smiles, a great warmth blooming in his heart. He brings the stuffed bear to his face, inhaling. It smells of home—of you, and of his daughter. The kid must have snuck it in when he wasn’t looking. She’d never part with it otherwise. The bear always stays by her side—a source of comfort.

Now it’s a good luck charm. And a reminder of a promise. The inclusion of the bear in his duffle is a silent command from his daughter.

Come home. Return it to me.

With great care and gentleness, John rests the teddy bear against his pillow.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“What’s this?” murmurs Johnny, opening his duffle bag wider.

With a curious curve to his brow, he removes the top item where he glimpsed a bright burst of color. Tumbling out of the folds of a black shirt is a bright red toy racing car. It’s small, the kind you put on a track or push around with your hand. A black stripe across the top cuts the red in half.

It’s his son’s favorite. It’s always in a pocket or clutched in his hand. You’re always finding it in the laundry or wedged between the sofa cushions. He’d never willingly part with it, but then Johnny remembers tucking him into bed one last time before leaving.

“Take my car, Da. It’ll keep you safe.”

Johnny smiles, holding the little red car in the palm of his hand. With a chuckle, he places it on the nearby table, fingers resting on the top. He moves it back and forth, making shroom sounds like he’s in a race.

“What are you doing, Johnny?” sighs Simon, appearing like a ghost from the dark.

“Driving,” he answers, lifting it off the table, moving it through the air in front of Simon’s unamused expression.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

It’s late, and all Simon wants to do is sleep. He’s been traveling the last couple days for the mission Task Force 141 was just assigned. Price says it’ll be a long one, that they might be gone for a few months. It’s not what he wanted to hear, especially since it takes him away from his family.

Simon drops his duffle bag on the ground next to him. He sits on the edge of the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose as a headache starts to form. From tomorrow on, it’ll be bedrolls and the hard ground. He should enjoy it while it’s still possible.

Simon opens the duffle bag for a fresh shirt he can sleep in. Finding one, he retrieves it, but something comes with it. A white blanket with pastel ducks on it. Small. For a child. Simon knows it. It’s his son’s baby blanket. He still sleeps with it even though it doesn’t cover his feet.

“Must of snuck it in,” he murmurs, smiling down at it.

Gently folding it, Simon places it on the bed beside him, resting his hand atop it knowing he needs to make every effort to bring it home.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Johnny peers over Kyle’s shoulder. “Have any of those sweets?”

He’s acting coy, pretending that he’s not eager for the caramels you always make whenever Kyle leaves for a mission. Johnny has a notorious sweet tooth, so you make a few extra just for him.

With a wicked, knowing grin, Kyle unzips the duffle bag.

“Let’s see here,” says Kyle, feigning ignorance about whether the caramels will be in there.

They are. He’s already eaten three.

Reaching in, Kyle withdraws the contraband. Johnny groans, snatching the bag from him. Kyle watches with amusement as Johnny pops one into his mouth.

“Piss off, MacTavish,” laughs Kyle as the Scots heads for the door.

With a smile that’s starting to hurt, Kyle reaches back into his duffle bag, and brushes against something made of a smooth material with angled, indented lines. Hand shifting, he finds that it’s round.

“What the—”

Pushing clothes aside reveals a football. It’s a classic white and black, scuffed to shit from being kicked around. This is his daughter’s. He can tell by the one pink hexagon. Turning it, he finds a little message written on the white in black ink.

For good luck. And a game.

[reilemon]

Return To You

♡︎ synopsis: You rely on Sylus to keep you warm on a winter getaway.

♡︎pairing: Sylus x fem!reader

♡︎ tags: fluff, oral (female receiving), love making (for a change)

♡︎ word count: 6.1k

♡︎ a/n: some cute holiday fluff for @hesperisms 💕✨

♡︎ Not beta read, but I'm still giving a shoutout to my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎.

divider by @anitalenia

The town square looks like a winter wonderland straight out of a postcard. Fairy lights shimmer like little stars from every tree, their warm glow reflected on the thin snowy blanket and salt-covered cobblestones. The air carries the sweet scent of roasted chestnuts, caramel apples, and spiced mulled wine – the aromas making your mouth water with every step as you lead, or better yet, drag Sylus towards the ice rink. You’d been eyeing the rink all night, and now, with only a handful of skaters, it’s the perfect time to venture out.

You turn to Sylus who is dressed impeccably, as always, his coat tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders. You can’t help but smile at his rosy cheeks and nose, the color from the winter air making him look less intimidating. Though, he still stands out in this festive setting.

"You’ve been indulging me all day," you say, leaning closer to him, pulling his focus back to you. "I think it’s time to try something fun together."

He raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking in a small, amused smirk. "And your idea of fun is strapping blades to our feet and risking broken bones?"

You laugh. "C’mon, it’s almost empty!" You nod towards the skate rental stand. “Let’s go and get our skates!”

"Our?" he repeats. "I’m more than happy to watch you make a spectacle of yourself while I stay safely on solid ground."

You pout, crossing your arms over your winter coat. "That’s not fair. I’m not good at this, and I need someone strong to keep me upright."

Sylus doesn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze shifting back to the ice rink, then to you, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Don’t tell me you’ve never ice-skated before," you tease, a grin tugging at your lips.

"I didn’t say that," he replies smoothly. "I’m simply saying I prefer to observe."

"That’s just a fancy way of saying you’re bad at it," you counter and playfully nudge his side with your elbow. "Please, Sylus? It’ll be fun. I promise not to let go of your hand."

His mouth opens as if to argue, but your wide-eyed, pleading look stops him. He exhales slowly, a puff of mist curling in the air between you, and shakes his head with the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

"Fine," he mutters. "But if I fall, you’re to blame."

You beam at him, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the skate rental stand. "Deal! But I’m warning you now—I’m terrible at this, so we might both fall."

As the cheerful attendant hands over your skates, you glance up at Sylus.

"Thank you," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

"Don’t thank me yet," he replies, as he looks at the skates. "Let’s see if we survive this first."

As you step onto the rink, Sylus’ grip on your hand tightens, the grip of his gloved hand firm and his presence reassuring against the slippery unpredictability of the ice. He steps further, leading you slowly with him. His fitness and natural grace give him an edge, but you can tell by the slight furrow in his brow that he’s carefully adjusting to the sensation of skating.

"You need to keep your knees slightly bent," Sylus instructs as he glances down at you wobbling by his side.

You giggle nervously, your free hand flailing slightly for balance. "Easier said than done! This is harder than I remember."

He watches you with a mixture of amusement and focus as you take a cautious step forward. "Relax. Lean forward slightly— I know you can do it."

Following his instructions, you do as you’re told, feeling a little more stable as you start to glide, although slowly. Sylus moves alongside you, his strides smooth and confident now, his hand never letting go of yours.

"You’re a natural," you tease, grinning up at him.

"Hardly," he replies with a small smirk. "But at least one of us needs to stay upright."

The sound of your laughter fills the crisp air as you grow bolder, gliding a little faster, though your feet still wobble occasionally. Sylus keeps up with you effortlessly, his focus shifting between your movements and the icy terrain ahead. At one point, as you make a sharper turn, your skate catches slightly, making you stumble. Before you can hit the ice, Sylus’ arm wraps securely around your waist, pulling you close.

"Careful, kitten." he murmurs, as he steadies you.

You laugh, your cheeks flushed from the cold and him. "Thank you. You’re like my personal safety net."

Sylus’ lips twitch in a faint smile, but he says nothing, his hand lingering on your waist for a moment longer before he releases you. Feeling emboldened after a few minutes of smooth gliding, you try to add a little twist, lifting your arms and attempting a small spin. The move immediately throws you off balance, and before you can topple over, Sylus catches you again, his grip firm but careful.

"No spins," he says firmly, leaving no room for negotiation.

"But—"

"You’re going to hurt yourself," he interrupts. Even though he is serious, you can see that he’s amused by your confidence in your skills.

You pout playfully. "Fine. But only if you promise we’ll come back for more ice-skating dates until I can spin."

Sylus sighs, the mist leaving his lips with the faint smile. "Fine. We’ll come back. But only if you promise not to try anything reckless again."

"Deal," you say brightly, grabbing his hand again as you continue gliding across the ice.

Though Sylus was reluctant at first, he finds that skating isn’t so bad as he watches you enjoy yourself. The cold air bites at your cheeks, your laughter echoing in the winter night, and for a brief moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you on the shimmering ice.

⋆⁺₊❅. ♡ ︎⋆⁺₊❅.

After leaving the ice rink, a little flushed and breathless, Sylus leads you through the bustling rows of stalls. He buys you your favorite candy, while he picks out some odd, colorful confections for himself—strange mix of flavors that you wouldn’t have dared to try, but he seems intrigued.

As you stroll further, your eyes catch on a vibrant display of oversized plushies at a game stall. A particularly cute dragon plushie catches your attention, its soft fabric shimmering slightly under the lights. You figure that this is a good time to regain some dignity you lost on the ice. You step up to the booth, pay the attendant, and pick up the air rifle. The attendant’s jaw practically drops as you shoot all the targets effortlessly, and Sylus’ admiration shines evident as he watches you from the side.

“Is there any space left in your apartment for more toys?” he remarks as you hug the plushie to your chest.

You shrug with a self-satisfied smile. “If not, I’ll just bring some to you.”

He chuckles, slipping his hand into yours as you continue walking through the festive town, the dragon plushie tucked snugly under your arm.

⋆⁺₊❅. ♡ ︎⋆⁺₊❅.

Back at the cozy lodge, you push the door open, greeted by the warmth and the comforting scent of cedar and cinnamon. Sylus steps in behind you, his arms carrying bags of candies, trinkets, and wrapped gifts you’d picked out for your friends back home. You set your dragon plushie on the couch, fluffing its wings a little before turning to help him organize everything.  He puts down a bottle of on the kitchen counter and you find the small bundle of herbs you’d picked out. After setting everything down, you feel the weight of the day in your limbs. Your arms and thighs ache from all the skating and carrying bags, but it’s almost a satisfying buzz in your muscles.

Sylus turns to you, tilting his head slightly. “You’re slowing down,” he says.

“I’m not slowing down,” you protest, but a yawn betrays you. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Come on,” he says, motioning toward the hallway. “Let’s clean up. The bathtub’s big enough to fit both of us.”

You glance at him, but he’s already on his way to the bathroom, so you follow behind, almost giddy at the thought of a relaxing bath.

⋆⁺₊❅. ♡ ︎⋆⁺₊❅.

He adjusts the temperature in the shower while you start to light candles around the room. Steam begins to fill the air, carrying the faint scent of the bath salts you placed by the tub. Stripping down, you step into the shower together. The warm spray cascades over your skin, washing away the remnants of the day’s adventures.

Once clean, you both step out and towel off. Sylus moves to the bathtub, sprinkling the bath salts into the hot water, the scent rising as he swirls the water with his hand, testing the temperature.

“Perfect,” he murmurs and takes your hand in his, helping you step into the tub first.

A relieved sigh leaves your lips as the hot water envelops you, the salts already working their magic on your tired muscles. Sylus follows, settling in across from you his broad shoulders just visible above the water’s shimmering surface. His silver hair clings to his forehead in damp strands, and his gaze is softened by the dim light as he takes in the sight of you.

You let out a long sigh, your eyes fluttering closed as you lean your head back against the bath pillow. “Well,” you mumble, “goodnight.”

A low, amused chuckle rumbles from his chest. Without a word, his leg nudges yours under the water, his foot brushing lightly against your calf, making your eyes flick open and look at him in mock annoyance.

“You can’t fall asleep here,” he says with a grin tugging at his lips.

You grin back, letting your toes nudge his shin in retaliation. “I wouldn’t. There’s hardly any room for my legs anyway, with yours taking up all the space.”

Sylus shifts slightly, the movement causing ripples across the water’s surface, as he lifts a hand and gestures toward you.

"Come here." he says, his voice low.

Your heart skips a beat at the invitation, but you don’t hesitate. Shifting forward, you move carefully through the water, as you settle in the space between his legs. He reaches up, his hands brushing lightly against your shoulders, and the weight of them is reassuring, grounding.

“Would you like a massage?” he asks, his breath warm against your damp neck.

“Yes, please,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

His hands begin to move, firm but gentle at the same time, starting at the curve of your shoulders. His thumbs press into the tense muscles there, working out knots you didn’t realize were still lingering from the day. A sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it. His hands slide down, from your shoulders to your arms, taking a moment to squeeze gently at the tension in your biceps before moves on the muscles of your upper back. Every touch melts away the strain of the evening. The water sways gently around you both, the soft ripples lapping against your skin.

“You’re easy to please,” he murmurs, a faint smile audible in his tone.

“Not true,” you counter, though the words lack conviction “Okay, maybe a little true.”

“You’re good at this,” you admit, your voice drowsy from the combination of his touch and the heat of the bath. His hands move to the back of your neck, his thumbs pressing into just the right spot to make you exhale deeply.

“I know. I have good hands.” he replies with amusement in his tone.

You laugh softly, letting your head rest against his chest for a moment as his hands finish their slow journey over your back, neck, and arms. Then, his hands slide around you, wrapping gently across your middle. You let out a soft, contented sigh as you fully lean back against him. Sylus rests his chin against the top of your head as he adjusts to hold you more snugly, his breath tickling the crown of your head. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Your eyes flutter closed, and you know that his are likely closed too, the tension you sensed in him earlier replaced by a rare ease.

You shift slightly, turning your cheek to rest against his chest, and the subtle vibration of his breath hums beneath your skin. You rest your hands on his forearms, your thumbs to kneading gently into his muscles. He hums in approval, the low sound vibrating against you.

Sylus’ hands start to move, his palms gliding over your stomach, as they settle on the curve of your waist, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive dip of your sides. Your breath catches as his hands venture lower, skimming over your thighs. His fingers linger there, kneading the muscle with firm, expert precision, but your legs remain closed. A soft moan escapes your lips, and you feel Sylus’ breath against your neck as he leans forward. His lips press against the curve where your shoulder meets your neck, planting slow, languid kisses that send tingling warmth through you.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper. His hands shifting upward now, his fingers grazing just beneath the swell of your breasts, his touch featherlight, drawing another gasp from you.

Your heartbeat quickens as his hands finally move higher, cupping your breasts. His palms glide over the soft, wet skin, his thumbs circling your nipples in a way that makes you arch slightly against him, pressing into his chest. The combination of his teasing touch and the sensation of his lips against your neck leaves you utterly lost in the moment.

His lips trail higher, brushing against your jawline, before the warmth of Sylus' hands leaves your skin. His palms slide gently from your breasts before wrapping around your middle. He presses a kiss to your temple. "The water’s getting cold," he murmurs, his embrace tightening for just a moment.

You sigh, reluctant to leave the comfort of the tub and his embrace. "You’re right." you reply, your voice tinged with disappointment.  

Sylus is the first to step out of the tub, water dripping down his toned physique as he offers you a hand. His grip is firm, steadying you as you rise, goosebumps spreading all over your wet skin. Your gaze unintentionally drops—and there it is. Your cheeks burn, and Sylus catches your look, a teasing smirk curling at his lips. “We’ll handle that later.” he says smoothly.

You bite your lip as you avert your gaze, heart fluttering as you grab a towel. After you dry off and pull on your bathrobe, the plush fabric warm against your skin, an idea pops into your head. Still slightly damp, you practically skip to your luggage bag.

Sylus watches you with a raised brow, leaning casually against the doorframe as he ties his robe around his waist. “What are you up to now?”

“Wait and see!” you say, as you unzip the bag and pull out the matching pajama set you’d hidden there—a playful, festive pattern of candy canes and gingerbread men. It smells faintly of your fabric softener, the scent wafting up as you hold it out to him.

Sylus takes the set from your hands, his eyes narrowing as he inspects the goofy design. He exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Of course, you’d pick something like this,”

“You’re wearing it,” you say firmly with a giddy smile.

With a mock sigh of resignation, Sylus slips into the pajamas, the soft fabric snug against his frame. You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, but he catches the gleam in your eyes.

“Laugh it up,” he says. "I’ll remember this.”

You grin unabashedly, slipping into your matching set before leading him out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen, eager to make mulled wine. Sylus opens the wine bottle while you gather the spices and a small pot. The two of you move seamlessly, your bodies brushing now and then as you prepare. The smell of cinnamon, cloves, and citrus soon fills the air, mixing with the aroma of red wine. As the wine simmers gently on the stove, Sylus excuses himself briefly, heading toward the living room. Moments later, the faint sound of a match striking is followed by the soft crackle of the fireplace. The warm scent of wood begins to fill the air, mingling with the spicy aroma of the mulled wine bubbling in the kitchen.

When he returns to the stove, you leave the kitchen to him and go around the other rooms, gathering every pillow and blanket you could find. Then you go to the living room where you arrange them into a cozy nest on the plush rug, settling everything just right by the fire. Satisfied with your work, you sit down and wrap yourself in one of the soft blankets, snuggling into it as you hold a well-loved box of Travel Size Kitty Cards in your hands.

When Sylus steps into the room carrying two steaming mugs of mulled wine, his lips quirk into an amused smile as he takes in the sight of you, warm and snug, holding the deck of cards. “Do you really want to spend the evening losing to me at this?”

“Losing?” You pout, shuffling the cards with more determination now. “You think you’re so good at this game, don’t you? Luck doesn’t count as skill.”

Sylus arches a brow. “Luck is a skill when you know how to use it.” He says as he sits across from you.

You roll your eyes, finishing the shuffle and placing the deck between you. “Alright, three rounds. I’ll win at least two, and when I do—” you lean forward with a cocky grin— “we’re buying matching reindeer onesies tomorrow.”

He shakes his head. “Reindeer onesies? That’s your wager?” He pauses, feigning deep contemplation, then leans closer. “Fine. But if I win, you’re wearing the gift I got you for the rest of the night.”

Your cheeks immediately heat at his words, your mind conjuring up images of delicate lace. You try to play it cool, though your blush betrays you, and you can’t quite meet his gaze. “Oh,” you murmur, “alright. Deal.”

His eyes catch every flicker of your expression. “You seem eager for me to win.”

You sigh, grabbing the deck of cards and start setting up the game. “Don’t get cocky, Sylus.” But as you focus on your hand, you find yourself secretly rooting for him, curious to see what he has picked out for you.

“Let’s see, then,” he murmurs, his voice rich with confidence as he picks up his cards. “Try to keep up.”

⋆⁺₊❅. ♡ ︎⋆⁺₊❅.

Sylus shakes his head as he gathers the cards, sliding them back into the little box, his smug grin never leaving his face.

"First round victory got you cocky," he teases. "And that, kitten, was your undoing."

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. "The wine clouded my judgment," you huff, your tone a mix of irritation and playful defiance.

Sylus chuckles as he sets the box aside. "We both know that’s not true," he replies. "You’ve had, what? One mug? Hardly enough to make you lose focus. So, really… it’s just you."

His grin widens as he leans back on one hand, utterly at ease while you sit there pouting. The firelight catches in his eyes, and the smugness radiating off him is maddening.

You feel your cheeks flush—not just from the fire or the wine. He’s right; you’re not drunk. The wine has only left you feeling perfectly warm, relaxed and a little tingly. And, unfortunately, that buzz has also heightened your awareness of him—the way he’s watching you, the faint curve of his lips both infuriating and unbearably attractive. You grumble something unintelligible, sinking further into your blanket cocoon, but Sylus, with his insufferable smirk, isn’t about to let you escape the moment unscathed.

He rises gracefully from the rug and he strides toward the bedroom. You watch him go, the wine’s gentle buzz amplifying your anticipation.

What could it be?

Your first thought is lingerie—something delicate and lacy, designed to make you blush the moment you open it. A dress, perhaps? you wonder. But then you dismiss the idea with a shake of your head; Sylus has already gifted you a breathtaking dress for the holiday banquet earlier this season. Maybe it’s a ridiculous onesie, you think. A cat? A sheep? Something he’d insist you wear just to tease you mercilessly the entire night. The mental image makes your cheeks flush, not entirely from embarrassment—because, honestly, you’d probably wear it, just to see that rare, carefree laugh of his.

Before your thoughts spiral further, Sylus returns, with a small box in his hands. Your breath catches. The unmistakable blue hue and the satin white bow make your eyes widen. He settles down across from you, and holds the box out. His smiles softly. "One of the gifts I brought for you," he says. "I thought it fitting for the trip."

Your heart flutters as you accept the gift. You gently tug at the bow, setting aside the satin ribbon, and your fingers tremble slightly as you lift the lid of the box. Your smile stretches wide the moment you see the necklace nestled inside the box, a heart-shaped pendant glimmering in the room’s dim light. Joy bubbles up in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you lunge forward, wrapping Sylus in a tight hug.

"Thank you," you murmur against his shoulder.

His arms hold you firmly for a brief moment before you pull back just enough to plant a smooch on his lips, quick and filled with gratitude. He smiles against your lips, his hand brushing over your back before you settle back into your spot to admire the necklace again. You lift the chain, examining every detail of the stunning craftmanship. But as your eyes adjust to the dim light, you notice something different. Your brow furrows, and you tilt the pendant closer.

The usual engraving isn’t there.

Instead, in elegant script, you read: Please return to Onychinus N109 Zone.

Your heart flutters, the customization turning an already beautiful gift into something deeply personal.

Sylus notices your pause and leans forward slightly, his voice low and warm. "It felt more fitting this way."

You glance up at him, and all you can do is nod.

"Let me," he says softly, reaching for the necklace. You hand it to him, and he moves closer, draping the chain around your neck. His fingers brush against your skin as he fastens it, sending a small shiver down your spine. He leans back to admire his work, his eyes gleaming as they move from the pendant to your face.

"It suits you," he says.

"Thank you," you say again, your fingers brushing over the pendant, feeling its cool surface against your skin.

Sylus’ lips curl into a playful smirk as his gaze dips briefly to your outfit. "But those pajamas don’t really go with it."

You roll your eyes at the comment, but as you replay his words, you stop. Your eyes narrow in mock accusation. "Wait…"

Wear my gift for the rest of the night.

Your face heats, a mix of embarrassment and excitement coiling in your stomach as you glance down at the necklace. You’re acutely aware of his presence, of the way his eyes haven’t left yours.

"I—" you start, but the words catch in your throat as he shifts closer to you.

Sylus’ hands move slowly to the hem of your pajama top, his fingertips delicately brushing against the fabric, his eyes locked on your face, waiting for your permission. Wordlessly, you lift your arms, and his lips quirk in a soft smile. He takes his time pulling the top over your head, the cool air of the room kissing your skin as it becomes bare. A shiver runs through you, goosebumps rising along your arms and chest as your pajama top is discarded.

"I’m going to be cold the rest of the night now," you pout, half-joking.

Sylus leans forward, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. When he pulls back, he whispers against your lips. "I’ll make sure you stay warm."

His words send a jolt of heat straight to your core as he guides you down, his weight pressing you into the soft blanket beneath. Your legs part instinctively, inviting him closer. Sylus hovers over you, his lips finding yours in a slow, intoxicating kiss. The faint taste of wine clings to him, rich and heady, as his tongue teases yours. Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling him deeper, needing him closer. He growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your mouth as he rolls his hips, grinding his hardness against your craving heat.

The sudden pressure against your clothed pussy makes you gasp into his mouth, your body arching into him as you feel the hard length of him straining against the fabric of his pajamas. Sylus pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his red eyes dark with hunger, his lips slick and swollen from the kiss. The firelight flickers over his sharp features, making him look devastatingly irresistible. His hips roll against yours again, grinding just right, pulling a desperate gasp from your lips as heat pools deep in your core.

He leans in, his breath tickling your skin before he drags his lips slowly along your pulse, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses that make your body arch into him. His tongue flicks over your skin, tasting you, the scrape of his teeth making you shiver beneath him.

He shifts slightly, his mouth traveling lower, trailing kisses down to your chest. A soft moan escapes your lips when his lips capture the peak of one breast. His tongue swirls around your nipple, teasing before he takes it into his mouth, sucking gently. At the same time, his fingers find your other breast, kneading it with care, his thumb circling the sensitive bud, the attention making you arch into his touch.

"Sylus," you whisper, his name tumbling from your lips as your fingers tangle in his hair again, holding him close to you.

He hums in response, the vibration adding to the sensation as his mouth continues savoring your body. His free hand skims down your side, tracing every curve, every dip, before settling at your waist. He releases your breast with a soft, wet sound, his lips immediately finding your belly. Then, his kisses trail lower, each press of his mouth against your skin making your impatience grow, but his hands steady your hips as his lips linger just above the waistband of your pajama pants.

His eyes flick up to meet yours. The way he looks at you—hungry, tender, and utterly devoted—makes your breath catch. The heat pooling between your thighs becomes unbearable, your panties damp with need as you writhe beneath him.

Finally, Sylus hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pajama pants and underwear, pulling them down in one smooth motion. His tongue darts out to wet his lips when he takes in the sight of you, bare and ready for him. Sylus starts slow, savoring every moment as his lips plant tender kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

"You’re trembling," he murmurs, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider. "So responsive... so beautiful."

The warmth of his breath fans over your dripping pussy, teasing, as he lets his lips linger just close enough for you to feel the ghost of a touch. Finally, his mouth moves to where you need him most. His tongue flattens against your folds, licking a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, making you gasp, your hips bucking instinctively toward his mouth. His tongue circles your clit, before his lips close around the swollen bundle of nerves, sucking gently at first, then harder as he finds the rhythm that makes your moans turn into cries.

One hand remains on your thigh, keeping you spread open for him, while the other slides up. His middle finger traces along your entrance, teasingly dipping in before retreating, then plunging back in, this time to the knuckle. He groans against your clit, as if the sensation of you gripping his finger drives him just as wild. He adds a second finger, his long digits stretching you, curling just right to press against your sweet spot. The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers has you writhing beneath him, drawing you closer to the edge. His tongue flicks rapidly over your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, the wet sounds mixing with your breathless cries.

Your thighs quiver, and he knows you’re close - his fingers curl deeper, pressing harder against that perfect spot as his lips suck your clit relentlessly. Your orgasm rips through you with a force that leaves you breathless. Your walls clamp around his fingers as your body arches off the rug, your cries filling the room as the pleasure pulses through every inch of you. Sylus doesn’t stop, prolonging your high as his tongue and fingers coax every last tremor of pleasure from your body until you’re trembling, gasping his name in broken, desperate whines.

Finally, he slows, withdrawing his fingers and pressing one last lingering kiss to your oversensitive clit, his lips curling into a smug smile as he looks up at you, his chin glistening with your release.

"My beautiful girl," he whispers, as he kisses the inside of your thigh one last time before sitting up. "All mine."

He takes off his pajama shirt, and in one fluid motion, he pulls off his pajama bottoms, leaving him completely bare. Your breath hitches at the sight of him, his cock thick, long, and hard. His eyes lock onto yours as he leans down, positioning himself between your legs. You gasp softly as the tip of his cock glides through your folds, his length sliding back and forth, coating himself in your mixed fluids. The sensation alone has you trembling, your legs instinctively parting wider for him.

Then, slowly, he presses against your entrance, the thick head of his cock stretching you as he begins to slide in, his eyes locked on you as your body takes in every inch. When he bottoms out, he pauses, his hips flush against yours, his cock buried deep. The sensation of being so completely filled sends waves of pleasure radiating through your body, leaving you gasping. His weight shifts as he lowers himself onto his elbows, bringing your bodies closer, his chest brushing against yours. He captures your lips in a slow kiss, making your head spin. His hips start to move, rolling against you in a languid rhythm drawing soft moans from you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing to feel more of him, your heels digging into his lower back. Your hands slide up to his shoulders, your fingers pressing into the taut muscles as he moves. His cock drags against your walls with each thrust, hitting spots that leave you gasping into his mouth. He swallows every sound, his kiss growing more feverent, his breath ragged as his body molds against yours. His hips grind against yours, his cock pressing deeper, harder, as you cling to him, your nails digging into his back.

Sylus’ pace begins to slow, his hips rolling more languidly as his lips break from yours.

“I need you closer.” he murmurs.

Without waiting for a response, he shifts his weight, one arm wrapping securely around your waist as he leans to the side, taking you with him. You gasp softly as your bodies roll together, your legs untangling briefly before one of his slips between yours.

Now on your sides, your bodies are pressed together so tightly you can feel his heartbeat. His arm stays snug around your waist, pulling you even closer, while his other hand cradles the back of your head. Your chest presses against his, and your hands rest against him, one lightly squished between your bodies. The other moves instinctively to his neck, your fingertips feeling his warmth, his pulse. Your leg hooks over his hip instinctively, granting him better access as his hips begin to move again.

The new angle makes you moan, his cock hitting even deeper, the angle forcing you to take all of him, and you clutch at his neck, your nails grazing his skin.

"My love." he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple as you press your face into his chest, overwhelmed by the closeness, the way he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in his world.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, your lips parting slightly. His eyes burn into yours, before his mouth captures yours in a deep, hungry kiss. The base of his cock presses perfectly against your clit with each thrust, the friction sending sparks of heat shooting through you. You’re helpless against the pleasure building inside, your breaths ragged and broken as his rhythm pushes you closer to the edge.

His hand on your back tightens, pulling you flush against him, the slick grind of his pelvis teasing that swollen, aching bud mercilessly. You arch into him, your nails digging into the hard muscle of his chest, and your gasps turn into needy, breathless cries.

“Just like that,” he rasps, his eyes stay locked on your face, devouring every flicker of pleasure that twists across your features. "Let me see you fall apart for me."

The way his cock fills you, stretching you with every roll of his hips, combined with the perfect pressure against your clit, is too much. Your body coils tighter, your thighs trembling where they’re hooked around his waist.

“Sylus…” you whimper, your voice trembling.

“Come for me,” he growls, one still cradling your head, the other pressing your back to him like he can’t stand even a breath of distance between you.

The tension inside you snaps, your body locks tight, your walls squeezing his cock with desperate intensity, milking him as a guttural moan escapes his throat. He thrusts into you harder, deeper, grinding his pelvis against your swollen clit, wringing every last pulse of pleasure from your throbbing pussy. Your cries fill the room, your entire body trembling in his arms. Sylus holds you through it all, his movements never faltering, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you as you ride out your high.

"That’s it." he murmurs tenderly, his gaze never leaving your face, memorizing the way you look in this moment—completely undone, completely his.

But he doesn’t stop - his hips keep rolling into you, his cock dragging against the oversensitive walls of your pussy, the friction is almost too much.

"You feel so perfect," he groans, his voice vibrating through his chest where you’re pressed tightly against him.

Your legs tremble, locked tight around his waist, keeping him buried deep. Sylus’ thrusts turn frantic, slamming into you harder, rougher, the sound of wet, filthy friction filling the room. His cock twitches inside you, driving deeper with every thrust.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost broken, as your name falls from his lips. His hand cups your face, fingers trembling as they stroke your cheek, grounding himself in the haze of his need.

His movements stutter, his cock throbbing, and with a guttural growl, he pushes into you one last time, spilling hot and thick cum inside you. His hips twitch helplessly, every pulse of his release sending a shudder through his body. He clings to you, forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged as he groans your name one last time.

His name escapes your lips in a soft, breathless moan, and he captures it in a searing kiss. The kiss slows as his movements still, the room filled with the sound of your mingled breathing and the faint crackle of the fire beside you. Sylus doesn’t pull away, his arms still wrapped around you, and you rest your head against his chest. His hands roam gently over your back and shoulders now, as if trying to soothe the tremble in your muscles. He kisses the top of your head before he pulls back just enough to look at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his fingertips grazing your cheek with a featherlight touch.

You nod with a soft smile.

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that feels entirely different from before—his mouth moves tenderly, as though memorizing the curve of your lips, savoring the taste, the warmth you offer. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin, grounding you both. When he pulls back slightly, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the stillness. His gaze, when it meets yours, is soft, filled with adoration. You could stay like this forever.