#and I’m too lazy to check so I’m tagging both

[alaiasole]

🌲 welcome back to solè’s bar🌲

tonight’s special: armin arlert, a secluded cabin, & steam rising from the hot tub.

→ armin x black!reader | smut | modern au | mountain getaway, hot tub teasing, wine, and no distractions

→ tags: dry humping, riding, dirty talk,armin obsessed with youuuuu (as he should)

a/n: I’M BACK GUYSSS

☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

the hot tub was bubbling, steam curling into the night air, and you were curled up beside him, arms brushing, legs tangled under the water. skin slick and warm. but the truth? neither of you had been able to keep your hands to yourselves since check-in.

his lips found your jaw again, lazy and soft. you giggled, pushing at his chest just a little.

“armin…”

he only smiled, kissed your lips once, then again. slow and sweet. like he couldn’t help it.

“i’m gonna pour us some wine,” he murmured against your mouth.

he stood, grabbed the bottle from the edge of the tub, and filled both glasses without rushing. he handed you yours with a small smile.

“thank you,” you whispered, already taking a sip.

your eyes lit up. “ouuu this one is good…”

he took a sip too, nodding. “yeah… but i think you taste better.”

“armin!” you laughed, swatting at him.

he grinned, leaning in again, voice low in your ear.

“what? am i lying?”

his lips grazed your skin.

“are you tipsy already?”

“no,” he whispered. “i’m just telling you the truth.”

you roll your eyes at him, cheeks warm, heart full.

“we really needed this, honestly.”

your voice was soft, floating between you two like the steam curling around your shoulders.

“yeah,” he nods, eyes steady on yours. “we needed to get away for a bit.”

his hand brushes over your thigh under the water, thumb smoothing over skin like it belonged there.

“and i’m so glad i’m here with you.”

he leans in and kisses you again, sweet and slow. lips warm.

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth.

you smile as you kiss him back, whispering, “and i love you.”

your fingers slide into his hair, gentle, like you can’t stop touching him either.

he looks at you like he’s never seen anything so beautiful.

“i wanna spend the rest of my life with you,” he murmurs.

you don’t even have time to respond—his lips are on yours again, this time deeper, messier. it builds fast. his hands grip your waist. your mouths move like you’ve been starving, kissing through little gasps, breath hitching.

you end up straddling him, water sloshing softly against your hips as you move. your arms loop around his neck. your chest presses to his. you start grinding into him slow, feeling him throb beneath you, hard and thick even through his swim trunks.

“baby…” armin whimpers against your mouth, voice already breaking. he’s so sensitive, so reactive. you roll your hips again and feel him twitch under you. your clit slides right over him, the pressure making your thighs tremble.

you kiss him harder, moaning into his mouth as you keep grinding down, slow and deep. your nails dig into his shoulders. the water rocks with your motion, splashing softly at the edges of the tub.

your clit pulses, throbbing as the friction sends heat racing through you. your eyes roll back.

“fuck… feels so good…” you whisper, barely able to get the words out.

you’re dripping, swollen, soaked in every way. every slow grind sends another wave of pleasure rolling through you. you moan again, higher, breathier—your hips stuttering as your orgasm crashes over you.

you cum on him, shaking, breath catching, body arching just a little as your moans spill into his mouth. you don’t stop kissing him. it’s messy. desperate. all teeth and tongue and breathless whimpers.

you’re still trembling in his lap, and armin’s just holding you, stroking your back, breathing like he’s about to lose it too.

“baby, i need you so bad,” armin’s voice is all husky and rough, like he’s been holding back forever. his eyes locked on you, all dark and needy. “you don’t even know how much.”

you bite your lip, feeling that heat bubbling up inside your chest. “yeah?” you say slow, teasing, reaching between you both.

your hand slides under the waistband of his swim trunks, pulling them down nice and slow, giving him that little show. your palm wraps around his cock hard, thick, and dripping wet.

he whines low, eyes half-closed, watching you like you’re the only thing that matters. “fuck, you feel so good already.”

you stroke him slow, making his hips jerk into your hand. “baby,” he groans, voice breaking, “please.”

you slide your bikini bottoms to the side just a bit, letting him see you. heart racing, you drag the tip of him over your clit, biting your lip so you don’t moan.

“damn, you’re so wet for me,” armin breathes, voice low, lips brushing your ear. “you always get me like this.”

you lean in, kissing his jaw, then his neck, your tongue flicking over that spot that makes him shiver. “i wanna feel all of you,” you whisper.

slowly, you push him inside, inch by inch, savoring the stretch and heat. the water moves soft around you as you press close.

“fuck,” you both moan, breath catching, feeling everything so damn good.

you grip his shoulders tight, sinking down to adjust.

armin’s hands find your ass, grabbing firm and warm, pulling you closer as you start moving. just slow at first, rocking your hips, waking up that fire.

“god, you feel so good,” you whisper, eyes closing.

he leans in, crashing his lips onto yours hungry and hard. tongues dance, moans muffled between you. his hands knead your hips, pulling you close while you bounce.

“you’re mine,” he growls between kisses, “so damn wet for me.”

“only you, baby,” you pant, grinding harder, feeling every inch.

your hand slides back down, rubbing your clit in tight circles, breath hitching, hips rolling.

“armin,” you moan, voice thick, “i’m close…”

he groans, thrusting faster, fingers digging into your skin.

“come for me, baby,” he whispers in your ear, voice broken, “let me feel you.”

your stomach twists, the knot snaps, your body shaking, moaning his name as you ride it out.

armin shudders, thrusting deep and messy, panting, “fuck, you’re so good. gonna come too…”

he cums hard inside you, hips jerking, whispering your name every time.

you hold him close, breathless, skin slick with sweat and water.

after a minute, you giggle, lips brushing his in a slow messy kiss.

“you’re crazy,” you murmur, fingers tracing his jaw.

“only for you,” he grins, pulling you in tight.

then—knock knock.

“oh shit, the food,” armin laughs, voice still thick.

“we better clean up,” you say, laughing, grabbing a towel.

door opens, delivery person smiles, food bags in hand.

armin grabs the bags, eyes on you. “let’s eat… then round two?”

you grin, wrapping your arms around him, already knowing exactly what’s coming next.

[aipurjopa]

Parchufies Comm…

(I can never catch a fucking break. All this was for a gear set btw.)

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: KISS & MAKE UP

✩ ‧ ˚. streamer!au: after the breakup, you two decide to make up in the traditional way—by having sex! NSFW

contents: fem!reader. oral (f. recieving), p –> v, teasing, praise, hair pulling (m. recieving), missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, use of pet names (too many to list here). not proofread bc you couldn't pay me to read all this again. 2.5k words. read this fic beforehand for better understanding of the context, but you don't have to.

author's note: tumblr hates me and that's why the banner quality's trash. if u wanna see the details, click here. anyways the streamer!gojo smut has finally arrived, tagging @satorena @screampied @cultrise, enjoyyy ;)

“did you tell them we’re back together?”

satoru nods in response to your question, plopping down on the couch next to you. he's spent the last hour chatting with his stream, and eventually he broke the news that you and him were back together after the breakup.

“yeah, i did,” he confirms, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. your hands automatically move to his hair and you thread your fingers through the soft white strands, pausing after a couple seconds to give him a quick kiss on the forehead.

a week ago, you and satoru had an admittedly messy breakup—not messy in the sense that it got toxic or dramatic, but messy in the way that it could’ve easily been avoided. it wasn’t that big of a deal, but thankfully, you and satoru resolved your misunderstanding within a relatively short time.

since then, things have been a little different—satoru’s been taking a break from streaming, which gave him move time to spend with you and away from his thousands of fans. it was his suggestion, and not surprisingly, it worked. but all good things have to come to an end, and your “honeymoon” away from satoru’s stream seems to be coming to a close.

“something smells good,” satoru notes, lifting his head and glancing at the kitchen. “wait, is that ramen?” your boyfriend gasps, eyes rounding as he looks at you hopefully. 

“yeah, you said you were craving it, so i made some,” you reply with a smile, untangling yourself from his arms and walking over to the kitchen. satoru blows you a flurry of kisses that you see out of the corner of your eye as you check on the ramen, which looks pretty much done.

“y’know, i still haven’t forgiven you for the shit you pulled last week,” you say dryly, turning off the stove and draining the water from the ramen into your sink. the steam rises up as the boiling water slips down into the drain, clouding your face for a moment before it dissipates into thin air. 

“...does that mean i don’t get to eat that ramen?” satoru asks tentatively, a nervous smile on his lips as you empty a packet of flavored powder into the ramen. you shoot him a look and raise an eyebrow, turning back to the stove to hide your smile.

“maybe, maybe not,” you reply coyly, not wanting to give in too soon.

“boo, you whore.”

you roll your eyes and divide the ramen into two bowls, one for you and one for your boyfriend. “you’re lucky i’m too nice to let you starve, regina,” you say pointedly, walking back over to the couch and handing one of the bowls to him, which satoru takes with both hands—a habit from his childhood that never went away. “otherwise you’d be—”

satoru cuts you off by poking your lips with his chopsticks, steaming hot ramen wrapped around them. you reluctantly open your mouth and let him feed you, smiling when he seals the bite with a kiss. 

“best girlfriend ever,” satoru proclaims when he pulls away, a lazy smile playing on his lips. his soft blue eyes study your own, observing your unusually guarded expression and frowning.

“how many times do i gotta apologize for my bullshit before you stop making that face at me?” he grumbles, twirling his chopsticks in his bowl and taking a bite of the ramen. it’s cute how satoru’s face lights up at the taste, and it’s even cuter how his eyes round at you in awe when he takes another bite. “i didn’t know instant ramen could be this good,” he muses, licking any lingering flavor off of his lips.

“very funny, satoru,” you laugh, swirling your chopsticks around the broth and watching the rest of the steam rise from your bowl. “and to answer your question, i don’t really know.”

satoru tilts his head and takes a sip of his water, ice clinking against the side of the glass. when you respond to his question, he pauses and tilts his head in confusion. “...wait, what does that mean?”

you think for a second, choosing your words carefully. “i’m not sure how long it’ll take until we’re back to… normal,” you say cautiously. in all honesty, you weren’t that pissed off at him—you never were. but the fact that satoru was so ready to throw your relationship away over something as small as that was upsetting, to say the least. and you weren’t entirely sure it wouldn’t happen again.

satoru looks at you thoughtfully, more serious than you’ve seen him in a while. you can almost see the gears turning in his head before he replies. “any idea how i can make it up to you?”

you shrug, swallowing another bite of ramen before you meet his eyes. “you tell me. actions speak louder than words.”

your boyfriend drops his chopsticks, letting them clatter around in the bowl before he stands up. he extends a hand to you, a determined glint in his eye. “then lemme prove it to you.”

“satoru, you can’t bribe me with sex.”

“that’s not all i’ll be doing, sweetheart. trust me.”

and that’s how you ended up in his room, hands tangled in satoru’s soft white hair as he eats you out. his tongue laps at your cunt with quick, kitten-like strokes, and he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh. “feels s’good, satoru,” you breathe, involuntarily tugging on his hair and dragging out a groan from his lips. “sorry—”

“don’t apologize,” satoru mumbles in reply, nose brushing against your dripping thighs as his tongue slips past your folds and goes in deeper. he looks up and locks eyes with you, unable to resist smiling at the way your legs tremble around him. “aw, you’re so fuckin’ cute,” he murmurs, flicking his tongue in and out of your cunt with a grin. “and i’m the one who should be—fuck, you’re gorgeous—apologizing.”

this isn’t the first time satoru’s eaten you out, but it feels like it every single time—somehow, his tongue has a talent of rendering you unable to focus on anything else but him. you grind your hips against satoru’s face, eyes squinted shut as your boyfriend flattens his tongue before lapping your slick up with cloudy eyes. “shit, i don’t know what i’d be without you,” he murmurs, voice low and steady—and something about his tone makes you certain he’s being completely honest with you.

“you’re so—fuck, satoru, i’m gonna cum,” you breathe, back automatically arching when satoru’s tongue reaches that spot inside you. he laughs, and the vibration of the soft sound against your puffy, sensitive cunt almost makes your legs give out—but thankfully, satoru’s hands are secured around your thighs, holding you in place. “‘toru, i can’t—”

“yeah, y’can, just relax that pretty pussy for me,” he cooes, licking up the slick dripping down his chin. “c’mon, you’re doing so good f’me, keep going, baby.” and just like that, his tongue slips out of your cunt and he lets you cum—the sheer force of your orgasm hits you like a truck, and your hips roll against satoru’s face in a choppy rhythm as you desperately ride it out, hands gripping and accidentally yanking his hair.

you stutter out his name a couple more times, unable to focus on anything but the feeling of satoru’s mouth on your sensitive, gushing pussy. your boyfriend praises you the whole way, gently murmuring soft words about how sweet you are for letting him taste you, even while your relationship was rocky. when your voice steadies enough for satoru to make out what you’re begging him to do, he’s not at all surprised to hear you plea for him to fuck you—so stands up and tugs you down onto his bed, hand intertwined with yours as he pulls the sheets over your bodies. 

you squeeze satoru’s hand and lean in to kiss him, chest still heaving from your earlier orgasm. naturally, you miss his lips and end up kissing the side of his face, which is flushed bright red from the way his body reacts to the taste of your pussy. “don’t ever leave me like that again,” you whisper, tears pricking at your eyes for some reason—maybe it’s the lovesick way satoru looks at you, or maybe it’s the way he’s holding onto you like there’s no place he’d rather be.

“i won’t,” satoru promises, pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead and pulling your head into his chest. his lips touch the top of your head as he murmurs, “and if i do, shoot me.” it sounds like a joke, but you both know that he’s dead serious.

“good thing i won’t have to do that,” you say with a soft giggle. your smile is heart-achingly familiar to satoru, and it feels like home—and that’s the realization that has him stripping off what little clothing the two of you still have on before he climbs on top of you. 

satoru touches the tip of his dick to your pussy, waiting for your nod to allow him to go in all the way. after a second, you dip your chin and trail your fingers down satoru’s jaw, grabbing his chin and pulling him down into another kiss. his lips linger for a couple seconds, still-minty breath tickling your face, before he pulls away. satoru slowly lowers his hips and nudges his dick inside of your desperate cunt, hands resting on either side of you.

even though it’s only been a little over a week since you last had sex with satoru, it feels like it’s been forever—your boyfriend curses when he feels how tight you are, mumbling something about missing you “so fucking much” as he goes in deeper and deeper. it hurts a little at first, but you quickly get used to the feeling of him inside of you. 

“fuckin’ hell, i’m never gonna get tired of this,” satoru breathes, dipping his head and kissing your collarbone. a single drop of sweat drips down the side of his face as he watches you squirm, eyes soft and endearing as you do so. he starts rolling his hips back and forth against you to loosen you up a little, dragging out soft moans from you as he does so. 

“yeah, you better not,” you mutter, tilting your head back and drawing in a long breath of air. you can’t remember the last time you felt this good—maybe it was the last time satoru fucked you. “satoru, y’re going so slow—”

your boyfriend cuts you off with a particularly harsh thrust, making your body jolt against his mattress. satoru lifts his head and looks you in the eye, a breathy laugh slipping out of him when he sees the pout on your lips. “the fuck you mean, i’m going slow? you want me to tear you apart? silly girl,” he tuts, back to his usual cocky self. he shakes his head and goes deep enough in you to force you to arch your back, starting to grin at the way you paw at his chest. “always so selfish, aren’t you?” he cooes, dipping his head and giving you a sloppy kiss on the forehead. “but you’re always—so—fuckin’—sweet,” satoru whispers, punctuating each word with a thrust hard enough for you to moan out his name more times than you can count.

“you’re the selfish one,” you mumble, lips trembling enough to muffle your voice. satoru huffs out a sigh and kisses your mouth, teeth gently brushing against your bottom lip. “you broke up with me for no reason,” you continue, tears pricking at your eyes again. “you think i’m gonna forgive you this fast?” 

satoru shakes his head again and caresses the side of your face. “will you?” he asks, slowing his pace enough for you to notice. you mutter something about him edging you on purpose, to which satoru shushes you and repeats his question.

“maybe.”

“you gotta stop giving me maybe’s, baby—y’re drivin’ me crazy here.”

in the past week, satoru’s done so much for you, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. on the day after your breakup, he picked you up from your house and took you for a picnic entirely curated by him. on the second day, he made you breakfast, lunch and dinner—it wasn’t the best food you ever had, but it was definitely the most memorable (in more ways than one). on the third day, he took you out to your favorite amusement park and did everything he could to make you smile—by then, you had pretty much forgiven him, and the giant teddy bear he dropped in your bedroom only made you love him more. the rest of the days were filled with longing glances and little gifts left around your house, which only helped him earn more and more of you back.

so, you figure that satoru deserves what comes next.

“okay,” you whisper. 

satoru’s eyes widen and he hesitates before he tentatively asks, “does this mean—”

you don’t let him finish his question, instead grabbing his face and tugging him down into a full kiss. he lets out a soft hm? in surprise, but kisses you back more than gratefully. “c’mon, make me cum,” you breathe when he finally pulls away. satoru nods dazedly and mouths “i love you” before he goes back in you, pace faster than before.

one of his hands snakes down to your waist, holding it in pace while the other caresses your face. you gaze up at him with a soft smile, eyes fluttering open and closed every time his dick hits your sweet spot—which is more times than your body can handle, but you welcome the feeling of him deep inside of you. after barely a couple thrusts, a coil forms in your stomach, growing tighter and tighter with each movement of satoru’s hips. 

satoru laughs, chest heaving as he grins down at you cheekily. “i knew you’d forgive me,” he murmurs, pinching your cheek affectionately. “m’ so sorry—”

“shut up and fuck me,” you interrupt, tongue starting to loll out of your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to cumming all over satoru’s dick. 

“as you wish, princess.”

satoru’s breathing slowly changes, becoming more choppy and uneven the closer you watch him get to his high—it’s so, so close for both of you, and when it comes, it takes over both of your minds like a drug. satoru curses and groans out your name, thrusts growing sloppy as he desperately rides out his orgasm. cum shoots out from his dick and coats the inside of your cunt white, dripping out once you physically can’t take any more.

you run your hands all over satoru’s body, clawing and gripping at every inch of skin you can latch onto—satoru’s always been your anchor, and you hope that he always will be. one of his hands leaves the side of your face and tangles with your fingers, holding it down against the mattress as he promises to never screw you over like that again, and you’re only too welcoming to him and his words as you squirt all over his dick. “fuck, satoru—”

he lifts his eyes and meets your own, and unlike you, his vision is clearer than ever. “shoot me if i ever leave you again, baby. i’m serious.”

you raise a shaky hand and touch the side of his face, eyes fluttering shut as you murmur, “i know i won’t have to.”

[lazysoulwriter]

soft launch sabotage - pedro pascal. ── .✦

requested! thank you. content: fluff, social media reveal, anxious Pedro, established but secret relationship

---

It wasn’t like you and Pedro had planned to keep your relationship a secret forever.

But it was new, and you were both a little drunk on each other. The kind of drunk where even going to the grocery store together felt too intimate to risk. Too good. Too delicate. And Pedro, bless him, had been so respectful of that — always checking before posting, always turning a soft smile toward you when someone asked about his love life and saying something vague like, “I'm very loved up lately, let’s say that.”

But then the awards show happened.

And Pedro, in a sharp navy suit and those glasses you loved, was practically glowing with nervous excitement as he stepped onto the red carpet. He was halfway through an interview when it happened. The reporter said, “You look incredible, Pedro. Who helped you pick out the suit tonight?”

And without thinking — not even pausing — he said: “My girlfriend. She has this eye for tones, and she—she’s amazing. She said this color makes my eyes look 'less tired in photos.’”

He blinked. The reporter blinked. The camera operator did not blink.

Pedro’s smile froze slightly as his brain caught up with his mouth, and he tried to chuckle it off. “I mean, my...stylist. I call her that sometimes. You know. Fashion girlfriend. Fashion ghost. Ha.”

It didn’t work. It definitely didn’t work.

By the time he made it off the carpet, your names were trending together on Twitter. People had screen-recorded the interview in HD and were doing TikTok deep dives on your recent vacation photos. Somehow, a blurry pic he’d taken of your legs on a hammock two weeks ago had resurfaced. The caption — “Heaven looks like this.” — was now very much in question.

Pedro’s anxiety had kicked in full force. He didn’t even go to the afterparty. He just went home and called you the second he walked in the door, pulling off his tie with trembling fingers.

“I fucked up,” he said immediately. “Baby, I fucked up so bad. I'm so sorry. You didn’t even get a say in this and I just—blurted it. I opened the gates and now they’re gonna find everything. I didn’t mean to out us, I swear, I wasn’t thinking, it was—”

“Pedro,” you said gently, trying not to smile.

“I should've kept it to myself. I just—I was thinking about you. I always think about you. And they asked and it just came out and—fuck, you hate this kind of attention. I ruined it, didn’t I?”

“Pedro.” You laughed now, full and warm. “I don’t care.”

He blinked, and your voice came through the phone like balm. “I mean, maybe I would’ve liked to post a really cute soft-launch first. You in the kitchen with that ridiculous apron you wear. Or me in your hoodie. But... it’s fine. It’s you. And I love you. I’m not mad.”

He was quiet for a second.

Then: “You love me?”

“Oh my God,” you rolled your eyes. “Yes. Obviously. I just thought I’d wait to say it until after you accidentally told the entire entertainment industry we’re dating.”

Pedro’s breath caught in his throat — and then the nervous wreck of a man melted. He was giggling, pacing around the living room with a hand on his chest like you’d hit him with a tranquilizer dart made of love. “Fuck. I love you too. You’re sure you're okay?”

“Yes, Pascal. In fact—” you grinned. “Now you have to post me. No turning back.”

So the next morning, he did.

pascalispunk 📸 a carousel of you and him — the first one was a candid: you curled into his lap, laughing in a sunbeam, his sunglasses half off your face. The second was blurrier, you kissing his temple while he cooked. The third was that same hammock photo — but this time, he tagged you.

Caption: Guess the secret’s out. Best accident I ever made. 💛

The comments were unhinged. The internet fully lost its mind. But Pedro didn’t care — not with you curled into his chest, hand tucked under his shirt, scrolling through them with a lazy grin and whispering, “They’re right, you do look less tired in that suit.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

---

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @joelmillerpascal @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure@barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512 @alltounwell @libbyaller @beaagiannelli @broad-shouldrs @oceanmcu @kysosa @melloispunk @jollycupcakeblizzard @angvlicsoulll @needz1nk @daddypascal17 @agustdpeach @mrsbilicablog @k4t13ispunk @hotdadlvr95 @lnnysnts @pedropascalfan221 @queenofklonnie22 @christinamadsen @ilovecheriies @stvr-bloom

---

[kentosovertime]

𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔦𝔞 - (n.) the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self, or way of life; spiritual conversion

✨Masterlist | Tag List | Ask Box✨ ☽ nanami is desperate to win back his ex wife ☽ cw: explicit content, alcohol, jealousy

“Where do you think you’re going?” He questions, annoyed as you stalk around your walk-in closet for an outfit. His shirt lays open, only half buttoned since he stripped his tie off at the door.

“You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Ken.” You sigh as you cock your head to the side, sliding an earring in before doing the other. “I didn’t invite you over.” 

“We both know I’m over here every night.” He tries to remind you, following you as you grab a dress off the hanger. 

“We’re divorced.” You point out the obvious as you jump into a skin tight black dress, smoothing it out over your curves. You rotate in front of the mirror, checking yourself from all angles. You decide it's more than passable. You had worn this on one of your first dates with him, and from the look he’s giving you he’s remembering it well… and how it ended up on the floor by the end of that night. “And it’s just a date. Though I’d appreciate it if you were gone by the time I get home.” 

You know he’s upset by the insinuation of what you would be doing after this date. If you were being honest, you didn’t see it going that far with the coworker who asked you out, but you never know. And you love how it makes Ken squirm as he pictures your night time activities without him. 

As you turn he crowds your space, backing you into the closet door with his proximity. 

“I don’t appreciate your disregard of-” he starts, his voice a low, gravelly growl. 

“Disregard of what?” Your eyes flare with anger as you push him away from you. “How does it feel to be the afterthought for once, Ken?” 

It had taken divorcing him to open his eyes. By the time he was ready to fight for you, to put work and promotions aside, you were already too far gone for him to reach. And you had let him go… in every way but physically. It was always the one area the two of you never had any issues in, and if anything it was even better now with the taste of desperation he brought to the interactions.

But you need more than sex. That was why you were finally ripping off the band-aid. 

“You’re… you’re not.” He stumbles, thrown off. Normally you’d let him pin you to the nearest surface and fuck you senseless. 

“I wish I believed you.” You push past him, making your way to the rack of shoes, picking a strappy pair of heels. 

“How can I prove that to you if you won’t let me?” He asks with a hint of desperation. You admit it pulls at your heartstrings, but that’s what has kept him hanging around for so long. 

You’ve stopped asking him to prove it a long time ago and you don’t know if you can’t ever get back to where you were at the beginning of your marriage. But at the thought of him stopping fighting for you, a pit forms in your stomach. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You sigh and kick off your shoes, stumbling slightly from the alcohol bleeding through your system. The night had gone well. Well enough to have him ask you out to another date later this week… you however, were still on the fence. 

Why couldn’t you just move on? 

“Where’s lover boy?” You hear Ken’s voice slur from your living room. The lamp on the side table flicks on and he’s leaning there, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He swirls it absentmindedly before knocking the liquid back and staring at you. 

“I never said he was coming over, Ken.” You curse him silently, drunk again and it's because of you. The drinking had started after you presented him with the divorce papers. On the nights he came over like this it always ended with him having his way with you. “I told you not to be here when I got back.” 

You march into your apartment, setting your purse and the bouquet of roses on your kitchen island as you shed your jewelry, too lazy and fed up to make it to your bedroom. You knew what would happen if you unintentionally lured him into that space. 

“The hell are these?” He mutters, his body suddenly caging you against the counter. His large hands grasp around the flowers, lifting them with disgust evident on his handsome face. 

You snatch them out of his hands reflexively, setting them back on the counter until you can get a vase for them to live in on your dining room table. You turn, facing where he has you pinned anger written on your face. 

“Do you get off on-” Your angry words are cut off when his hands grasp your cheeks and pull you forward, laying a desperate kiss on your lips. When you try to push him away, his free hand snakes around your waist and hauls you close to him as kneads your hips in the way that makes you go boneless. 

“You want flowers?” He pulls away, taking deep breaths as he lays his forehead against yours. “I can do that.” 

“K-ken-” He doesn’t allow you to protest as he dives back in, fiery and slow to make you savor how he feels pressed against you. His tongue dances with yours and he swallows your needy whimpers, the kiss fueling a fire inside of you. 

“You want fancy dinners?” He pants, dipping down to lift you up by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I can give you that.” 

You hungrily meet his lips this time and he walks you towards your bedroom, gently laying you on the mattress. You haul him down, sighing as his weight settles on top of you. He slides closer, using his legs to spread your knees open. 

“You’re not wearing this for anyone else again.” He growls low, ripping your dress down the middle so he can kiss and suck down your neck. He makes his way down your body, crooning at you as he makes his way to his destination. 

You gasp and fist his hair, keeping him close to your body. Your dress hangs from your body as your chest heaves when he kisses you through your panties. 

“Let me make you feel good.” He hums, lapping at your cloth covered sex. “Let me be yours.” 

“Ken- We can’t-” Your whimpers cut you off and you hear a loud ripping sound as Kento throws your ruined thong over his shoulder before spreading you open by your thighs. His fingers dig into his curves, as if holding himself back. 

“We can.” He insists, testing the waters with a slow lick up your center, pulling a gasp from you. “You can let yourself want this.” 

He doesn’t let you respond as he sucks down on your clit. Slowly he presses his fingers into you and builds you up steadily, letting you feel the attention he’s promising to give you if you take him back. Your back arches, pressing your center into him as you try to ride his face. He wraps his free arm around you, pinning your hips to the mattress so he can control the pace. 

You find yourself breaking down, showered with all this affection. You can see yourself giving in to his demands, see him loving you again. Any protests you have die as you come apart on fingers and tongue. Your body spasms, shaking as he works you through your high, bringing you down gently until you're boneless and satisfied. 

You feel the bed rustle as he stands, taking the image of your sated form as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, dropping it to the ground with his pants and boxers. The bed dips again as he kneels on the surface. His form dips, gathering you by your hips to haul you towards the edge of the bed. 

“P-please.” You plead needily, your will broken, needing him to fill the void left inside of you by his absence. 

The head of his cock trails through your center and gently presses past your entrance as he shushes your whimpers. No matter how many times you had been with him, you never quite got used to his size. It leaves you limp, panting as the burn subsides. He takes pity on you this time, easing you into it as he rocks his length back and forth, making you feel the slide of every inch an and out of you. 

“Say it, sweetheart.” He coos, taking a hand and forcing you to keep eye contact as his hips roll into you, clapping in a steady rhythm. 

“N-need…” Your eyes flutter, watering at the tightening feeling in your stomach. “Need you, Ken- Please stay-” 

He moans at your words, seemingly letting them sink into his alcohol riddled mind. He leans in, kissing you roughly as his hands clasp both of yours, holding you as his thrust turn hard while keeping the same slow pace. 

“F-fuck, sweetheart. Cum for me.” He slides your hands up above your head, holding them down with one hand as he expertly circles your clit just the way you like it. 

White explodes in your vision and your legs lace around his waist, pulling him deep while you clench around him. He burrows his face into your neck, biting into your skin with a groan as your climax triggers his. You whimper and hold him close, your walls in ruins, your heart craving the love that only he can give you. 

“Please stay.” You murmur again against his skin, like you won’t change your mind in the morning, like you won’t do this song and dance again. 

“I’ll never leave you.”

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @silversslut @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @rafzaha @chososhoney @littlemochi @bebechinas99 @saoney @meromelo @pelicanpizza @katgalle @honeyyjems @tsukikoxo @adequate-superstar @thytourturedpoet [[ if your blog name is crossed out i couldn't tag you]]

[rafedarling]

Maybe a Drew x fem famous reader, when Drew accidentally walks out of a store holding a drink he didn’t pay for.You: “DREW, YOU JUST STOLE THAT.” Drew panicking “I THOUGHT I BOUGHT IT.”Cue him running back inside, dramatically throwing cash at the cashier, and apologizing way too much.

𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥

pairing: drew starkey x famous!reader

summary: a peaceful coffee run takes an unexpected turn when drew, in all his distracted glory, accidentally walks out of a store with a drink he didn’t pay for. cue sheer panic, a dramatic redemption arc, and you trying not to laugh as your boyfriend over-apologizes to a very confused cashier.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff, drew being an adorable mess, secondhand embarrassment, and an excessive amount of apologizing.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore

i actually kinda bored so it would be great if we talk, you can send me anything through here → 💌 (will reply later, i had to charge my phone now :0)

Your and Drew morning had started off perfectly.

You and Drew had just wrapped up a long press tour, and finally, a lazy day together was in order. Hoodies, sunglasses, and a quick coffee run, so simple, right?

Well… almost.

You held Drew’s hand as you both walked into the small coffee shop, a place that had become a quiet favorite of yours over the past few months. It wasn’t too crowded, the baristas were nice, and most importantly, they made the best iced vanilla lattes.

Drew was half-distracted, scrolling through his phone with his free hand, probably checking a text from his agent.

Meanwhile, you stepped up to the counter, ordering your usual and Drew’s preferred cold brew. He grinned at you, pocketing his phone and wrapping an arm around your shoulder while the barista rang you up.

The moment the drinks were placed on the counter, you thanked the barista, grabbed your cup, and turned to Drew, expecting him to do the same. Except—

He was already walking out the door.

With his drink.

That he did not pay for.

Your eyes widened as you called after him.

“DREW, YOU JUST STOLE THAT.”

Drew, mid-sip, froze in place.

His blue eyes widened in sheer horror as he turned to look at you, then at the store, then at the drink in his hand. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“I THOUGHT I BOUGHT IT.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as he stood there, looking like a deer caught in headlights. The barista behind the counter blinked at him, half-amused, half-confused.

“Babe,” you whispered through your giggles, walking toward him.

“You didn’t even take out your wallet.”

Drew’s face turned a shade of pink you rarely saw.

“Oh my god. Oh. my god.”

His voice came out in panicked whispers before he turned on his heel and sprinted, actually sprinted back inside.

What happened next would be forever etched into your memory.

Drew dramatically dug into his pocket, pulled out a handful of bills, and threw them onto the counter.

“I AM SO SORRY,” he announced, as if he had just committed a grand felony.

“I SWEAR I DIDN’T MEAN TO—I WAS JUST—I GOT DISTRACTED AND—”

The barista, bless his soul, simply nodded.

“Happens all the time, dude.”

But Drew wasn’t done.

“I SWEAR I’M NOT A CRIMINAL.”

You lost it.

You actually doubled over laughing, tears pricking at your eyes as Drew continued his over-apologizing spree. The poor barista just gave him a thumbs-up, clearly unsure of what to do with the sixteen dollars Drew had thrown at him for a four-dollar drink.

“Baby,” you wheezed, stepping beside him.

“I think they forgive you.”

Drew exhaled dramatically, running a hand through his hair as if he had just survived a life-threatening event. He turned to you with a sheepish expression.

“I panicked.”

You wrapped an arm around his waist, grinning up at him.

“I noticed.”

He groaned, hiding his face in your hair.

“I can never come back here again.”

The barista, who was definitely going to tell this story later… cleared his throat.

“No worries, man. I’ll just put a ‘Wanted’ poster up with your face.”

You cackled as Drew shot him a look of pure betrayal.

“Bro, don’t do me like that.”

Still laughing, you tugged on Drew’s hoodie, pulling him toward the door.

“Come on, Bonnie, let’s go before you accidentally commit another crime.”

Drew huffed but followed you, his arm slung lazily around your shoulders as you walked back to the car. He glanced down at you, a lopsided smile playing on his lips.

“You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

You smirked.

“Not a chance, Clyde.”

And with that, the legend of Drew Starkey: Accidental Criminal was born.

[girly-girlk]

live on air (part 2)

joe burrow x reporter!reader

summary: you and joe meet again after a game

you weren’t fired.

not even reprimanded. in fact, the clip of joe’s ��motivation” line hit a million views before you made it back to the hotel. your producer sent a gif of your stunned expression with a thumbs-up emoji and a “nice work, superstar.”

you wanted to die. or scream. or… replay it.

over and over.

you definitely didn’t check his Instagram story that night. or the next morning. or when he tagged you in a blurry tunnel photo captioned:

“postgame press. 10/10 motivation.”

so yeah. you were not okay.

⸻

game day came faster than you expected.

same tunnel. same mic. same routine.

except this time, you were hyper-aware of the curls bouncing beneath his helmet as he jogged off the field, eyes already searching for you. you tried to look unbothered. you really did.

“burrow,” you said as the camera rolled. “another win. back-to-back comeback drives. is this a pattern we should be worried about?”

he took the mic like it was nothing, gaze sweeping over you with that annoyingly lazy confidence. “nah. i just like to keep things interesting for you.”

your laugh caught in your throat, but you covered it with a quick, “right. strictly for entertainment value.”

he smirked. “exactly. can’t have you getting bored out here.”

you shifted your stance, grounding yourself. “well, you certainly know how to make headlines.”

he tilted his head. “that a compliment or a warning?”

you smiled. “a little of both.”

the questions flew by—clean, sharp, professional. but there was always something just under the surface. the way his hand brushed yours when he passed the mic back. the way he leaned a little closer than necessary. the way you felt like the only person in a 60,000-seat stadium when he looked at you.

the segment wrapped. the camera cut. silence.

he stepped forward, close enough you had to look up. “so.”

you blinked. “so?”

“dinner.”

your stomach flipped. “you’re persistent.”

“i’m a quarterback,” he said with a grin. “we don’t throw unless we think we can complete it.”

you shook your head, trying not to smile too hard. “that was terrible.”

“but it worked.”

you rolled your eyes. “maybe.”

“next friday. i’ll send you the place.” he was already pulling off his gloves. “unless you’re scared.”

you met his gaze, steady now. “not even a little.”

he grinned. “good. ‘cause i’ve got a whole season to win you over.”

you should’ve walked away. said something cool. played it smooth.

but you just stood there, heart hammering, while he jogged off toward the locker room.

and you realized something terrifying:

joe burrow might be your favorite postgame problem.

[aurorasdaybreak]

if this world were ours ‿❀° sylus qin (m)

summary: during the first sunny spring day in linkon city, you and sylus decide to pick up right where you left off. info: sylus x afab!reader | story compliant | fluff, smut | 18+ | 11k words warnings: this is tooth rotting fluff with cheese levels comparable to a romcom bc the sweetest man deserves it after everything he's been through (;-;), hesitation on both sylus and mc's parts, references night of secrecy memory but if mc didn't go with sylus, tara and simone make an appearance, almost getting caught in a dressing room by the previously mentioned characters, sylus x reader smut, the slightest bit of dom!sylus x sub!afab!reader but it's barely mentioned, use of pet names (kitten, angel, vixen), f!receiving nipple play, teasing, f!receiving oral sex, clit play, f!receiving multiple orgasms, f!receiving overstimulation (GUYS SYLUS IS A PLEASURE DOM I KNOW IT IN MY SOUL), mentions of safe signals, sylus has a big dick, unprotected sex, cumming inside, this is very sappy and cheesy i am warning you NOW author's note: guys titles are hard to come up with SDGHJBGFHJSD but happy belated birthday to the sweetest dragon man - and thank you guys for waiting :')) work is kicking my ass but MAYBE HOPEFULY FINALLY I AM WRITING MORE!! as always pls feel free to leave your thoughts in my ask :')) thank you for reading!! <3 disclaimer: not beta read, will edit soon for any mistakes!! if you are a minor and you're seeing this, i ask that you turn away and do not read. this is an 18+ story and minors are not welcome. if you are uncomfortable with any of the topics listed in the warning, please do not read this story! ‿❀° songs listened to include take a chance with me by niki and luther by kendrick lamar and sza

The first sunny spring day after a long winter is always your favorite day of the year.

You wake up to the warmth of sunlight on your cheek, filtering in between the gap of your curtain. There’s a pleasantly lazy feeling that spreads through your body - one that makes you want to curl back into your sheets and doze off for a couple more hours.

You groan when you hear your phone vibrate against your side table, though, and you blindly reach around to grab the offending gadget.

You don’t even look, simply swiping your phone across the screen and holding it up to your ear. “____ here, what’s up?”

“____!” Came a cheerful, peppy voice that has you waking up just a little bit faster. You sit up as you process that it’s Tara, and you can’t help but smile as you run your fingers along the silky fabric of your bedding.

“Something’s definitely up,” you joke as you rub your eyes. “It’s 6 am and you’re always grumpy at this time, so either we get today off or you got a really good coffee.”

“Ding ding ding! We have today off, bestie!” Tara’s excitement is contagious, and you can’t help but laugh. “The higher ups have some sort of meeting out of town today, so while tech staff have to be in office today we’re on call but technically have the day off. Simone and I were talking about going to the mall so we can get noodles and blind boxes, do you wanna tag along?”

“Hmm,” you muse, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “While I’d love to, I need to do some grocery shopping and return some books. Maybe we can plan a proper outing together soon?”

“For sure,” Tara says. “Maybe we can check out that new karaoke place and barbecue place during the weekend! We need a good girl’s night out.”

“As long as I’m not the DD,” comes your half-joking, half serious reply. “The way you convinced Simone to keep taking shots was…inspiring, to say the least.”

“Oh please,” she scoffs, and if you put your mind to it you could almost see her waving her hand. “I’ll just have Nero pick us up or something. You need to partake in the shots too - don’t think I haven’t seen the way you gaze out the window and sigh longingly to yourself about your mystery hunk.”

“I have not!” Even with how quickly your reply comes, though, you and Tara both know that she’s right.

Because, oh, yes you have.

It had been some weeks since your…night with a certain Onychinus leader - a night that you keep replaying in your head over and over again, no matter how many times you tried to focus on the present and current missions in front of you.

You had been slated to go with him to your shared destination, but a frantic call from Jenna had you regretfully cancelling your ticket last minute and dropping him off at the airport instead. You still remember the way his palms felt cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing the damp skin under your eyes and wiping away your sadness before pressing his lips to your forehead and leaning down to whisper in your ear:

“Don’t miss me too much sweetie, we’ll see each other soon.”

You turn your head to the direction of your bedroom window following the end of your memory, staring at the dust dancing between the filtered streams of sunlight while you think of soft eyes and an uncharacteristically sweet smile as he turned back and gave you a salute before disappearing in the sea of travelers.

You wonder what he’s doing right now.

“Earth to ____!” Came Tara’s teasing voice from your phone. You blink rapidly and feel yourself heat slightly with embarrassment at how you’ve left Tara hanging. “You’re thinking about your mystery hunk, huh?”

“Ye-no, ugh! Tara!” You try to ignore the flare of indignation that burns in your stomach at her laughter, although you can’t help the smile that begins to form on your face. “I’m hanging up now.”

“See you tomorrow, ____!” With her last greeting, you hang up the call and toss your phone towards the foot of your bed before flopping back down onto your pillow and grabbing a random plushie so that you can scream into the soft toy.

“Freaking stupid,” you mumble to yourself when you finally lift your head away from the plushie, only to groan when you see it’s the stuffed crow that he won for you. You poke at its eye, imagining that it can see right through you like the person who won you the toy.

“Y’know, sometimes I think that he can see me through you,” you mutter softly, tracing the crow’s exaggerated eyebrows. You poke at its beak, and you giggle when you imagine poking a certain someone’s nose. You poke its beak once more before you reach up to pet its head, shaking your head and sighing deeply while you do so. “If it just so happens that he can see me through you…well, you better get home safely.”

You hold your breath, waiting for the crow’s right eye to glow a vivid red.

One beat passes, and then another…

…but nothing happens.

You sigh once more, gently placing the crow by your pillow before pulling the sheets off of your legs and standing up to stretch and get ready for the day.

It would do you no good to worry about him, you have stuff you need to do for yourself.

You’re proud to say it - you’ve gotten a lot of shit done in the past couple of hours.

You’ve returned your books that were teetering on the edge of being overdue, smiling sheepishly at the librarian who quirked an eyebrow at you when you plopped down another stack of romance novels onto the checkout counter. After quickly dropping off your books back at your apartment, you make your way to the mall nearby so that you do some window shopping.

You slowly make your way through the crowded mall halls, easily dodging the small children that run amuck and apologizing to the couples strolling arm in arm when you’re too slow to maneuver past them. Even with how busy it is, however, you still maintain your good mood - and it seems as though everyone around you does as well.

Everyone around you is relishing in the first warmth of spring, and you can’t help but smile in contentment.

You stop outside of a Twinkle Toys storefront, looking down at the new blind boxes that they have on display. You hope that none of them catch your eye, but then you see it: a cherry blossom series where your favorite characters have silly poses and goofy smiles.

You heave a sigh, torn between buying a full set so that you can display it throughout the entire year or saving your hard-earned money. Your eyes flicker between the set and your purse, and you shake your head to yourself before stepping in and approaching the display.

“Just this once,” you murmur to yourself as you pick up a box. “Just this one set, to reward yourself for doing a good job.”

You make your way to the cashier, and you try not to cringe as you place the box on the counter. The worker barely blinks though, and easily scans the item as they read off your total. You bend your head so that you can fish out your wallet, but before you can hand over your card you find your attention caught by something.

A 6’2, silver-haired, red-eyed something.

“Please tap your card on the screen- lady, hey, wait-!”

You don’t even register that you’re walking away from your new blind box set and making your way out of the store, pushing past a crowd of college students as you begin to pick up your pace.

There’s no way it’s him, right?

You slowly see that head of silver hair come into your vision, and you all but break out into a sprint as you attempt to catch up to him before the crowd swallows you whole. You’re not gonna let him go - not without talking to him first, at least.

Soon enough, you’re within a fingertip’s reach to the man’s (ridiculously ornate) trench coat, and you reach out to grab the fabric so that you can get his attention-

-only to be pushed into his solid frame, stumbling and crashing into his body.

You hear an oof escape his chest as you collide, and you squeal as you try and stabilize your body so that you don’t topple over. Your footing isn’t so steady, however, so you end up tumbling into a pair of arms.

You gulp when you see a black silk button-up, and you let your head slowly move up just so that you avoid his eyes - instead focusing on the pair of lips you’ve dreamed about over the past couple of weeks. You watch as the mouth forms its signature smirk, and you can’t help but shiver when you hear the laugh you didn’t realize you were craving until now.

“Looks like the kitten distribution system is at work today,” comes Sylus’s amused tone, and you feel yourself heat slightly before pushing your body away from him. 

“I just had to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating,” you murmur back sheepishly, taking the time to straighten your cardigan and smoothing your skirt of its nonexistent wrinkles. You finally build up the courage to stare at his full face, and you can’t help the way that your stomach flips when you gaze at him.

Oh, how you missed his handsome face. You didn’t even realize how much you craved his presence until just now, when you were confronted with the sight of him after a long couple of weeks.

You try and wrack your brain for something, anything to say. You should ask him about the trip, how the investigation went, and when did he come back to Linkon? Why is he in Linkon in the first place? 

Did Sylus think of you as much as you thought of him?

Out of all of the things you could say, however, the first thing that slips out of your mouth is a breathless, “There’s no way you’re not sweating in that ridiculous trench coat.”

Sylus quirks an eyebrow at your statement. “I’m quite well ventilated, thank you very much.”

“Well…you don’t really fit in,” you say lamely, gesturing to the crowd around you. “It’s uh, it’s pretty warm today, Sylus.”

The corners of his lips tilt up, and you can see the exact moment he decides to humor you. “Oh, is that right sweetie? What do you suggest we do about that?”

You can’t quite hide the pleased smile that forms on your face as you hear the word “we”, although you try to maintain your bravado as you pretend to ponder over your already created solution. Your contemplation is short-lived, however, when a couple jostles you back into his arms.

Sylus catches you with ease, and you try to disguise the way your hands shake as you push him away once more. You can still see his smirk, however, so you scowl and push the sleeves of your cardigan up to your elbows.

“You need a clothing makeover.” It’s a ridiculous statement that makes him chuckle and you think for a moment that he’ll shoot down the idea, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he grabs your hand and places it in the crook of your elbow with a gentle reverence.

“And what will this clothing makeover have in store?” His voice is right by your ear, and you fight the shiver that races down your spine at his sudden proximity and deep, lilting voice. “Polyester?”

It’s his way of teasing you - you know it from the way his eyes sparkle as he regards you softly, the beginnings of a genuine smile curling on the corners of his lips. He’s waiting to see if you’ll back down or rise to the occasion, to see just how much of a rise he can get out of you - so you decide to play coy.

“Worse.” You make it so that your tone reflects his intimate quality, and you find that you feel pleased in the way he looks slightly flustered when you tiptoe up so that you can place your lips right by the shell of his ear. “Matching cardigans.”

“Oh?” Sylus shakes off his momentary daze and composes himself. His eyes trace a line from the curve of your neck to the white knitted cardigan you paired with your jean skirt this morning, and you feel your fingers tremble when you see the tiniest spark in his eyes before it flits away. “Don’t suppose this comes in black?”

You barely feel it, but his hand snakes around your back and settles on your hip, making a subtle show of rubbing the fabric in between his fingers and letting the pads of his fingers just barely run along the curve of your hip. You feel yourself heat slightly at this sudden proximity - torn between pulling yourself together so that you can spend a proper day with him or pulling him towards the bus stop so you can bring him to your apartment and show him just how much you missed him.

“Kitten?”

Sylus breaks you from your self-imposed lust with a squeeze to your hip, and you fight the urge to go with the latter option. Instead, you shake your head to give yourself clarity before smiling up at him. “It’s nothing at all, let’s get you a matching cardigan in black.”

You wait with bated breath as you see if he’ll buy your lame excuse, hoping that he doesn’t look too deeply into your shaky smile and the way you know your eyes look slightly unfocused. You know you look like you’ve been thinking about something that shouldn’t be thought of in the middle of a public space - it’s the same look that Tara and Simone have caught you with while Sylus was gone the past couple of weeks, and you pray that Sylus just doesn’t think too heavily about it.

You don’t quite know what you would say to him if he even brought it up.

Thankfully, Sylus chooses to brush past it - retracting his hand from your wait and placing your hand back into the crook of his elbow. “All right, sweetie,” he says as he looks at you expectantly. “Lead the way.”

“First order of business,” you say as you pull Sylus into a clothing store. “You’re in clothing that’s way too gaudy and…fine for all of us civilians here in Linkon City. We need to disguise you so that the Hunters who are off duty don’t haul your ass to the Association.”

“Interesting,” he muses as you gesture for him to turn for you. He grins and humors you, holding out his arms and slowly turning in an exaggerated circle. He stops his movements with an over the top pose, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“Keep your arms out,” you command, and he follows your request as you guide him to the men’s clothing section.

“This is quite a lot, sweetie,” Sylus says curiously as you begin to dump a selection of short sleeved button downs and cotton shirts into his arms. “And very…mundane.”

“Oh calm down, almighty leader of Onychinus.” You grab a plain shirt from the pile in his arms and hold up the tag to his eyes, making sure that he sees the words 100% COTTON written on the label. “These clothes aren’t going to make you any less handsome or make you break out into hives because it’s not silk, they’re just meant to have you blend in with everyone here in Linkon.”

“So you think I’m handsome,” he replies cheekily. You fight the urge to roll your eyes once again, although you can’t help the way your skin heats slightly at his teasing tone.

“Oh, shut it Sylus,” you mumble, and he laughs at the way you turn your head back so that you can rub at your cheeks furiously.

His arms full of clothing, you begin guiding him into the dressing rooms nearby. The attendant raises an eyebrow at the amount of clothing Sylus has with him, but lets him enter anyway. You walk him to his assigned dressing room, and Sylus raises an eyebrow at you that has you giving your own confused look back at him.

“Aren’t you going to join me, kitten?” He asks, and you sputter at the insane question.

“What- no! Sylus, you’re the only one meant in the room-” The words tumble frantically from your mouth as you all but push him into the room, yanking the curtain shut so that he can’t see the way he leaves you flustered so easily. “Just…just try on the damn clothes Sylus!”

You try to ignore the way his chuckle makes your knees weak.

You stand vigil at his dress room, occasionally offering comments to him when he opens the curtain and lets you see his try on haul. You automatically say no to an electric blue short sleeve (“It’s like your color analysis only favors you in shades of red and black!”) and he discards all of the shirts that have even a percentage of polyester in its blend (“Absolutely not, ____.”) but you both find a common favorite with a simple, black, short-sleeved button down.

“It’s just…” you begin, and you taper off when you see the way the buttons at his chest strain.

“Just what?” He repeats, and he looks down in confusion when you point at his chest - looking off at the wall behind his head so you don’t have to see the muscles of his body or the smirk on his face.

“Ah.” He replies, and he shrugs casually as he begins to unbutton the top. “Just get me a bigger size, then.”

And before you can even say anything else, he shuts the curtain.

On you.

“Dammit Sylus,” you mutter, and you roll your eyes when you hear his snort from the other side of the curtain.

“Unless you want me to go out-” he begins, but you gulp and pull the curtains shut when you see his fingers wrap around the fabric, ready to pull it open.

“Just stay there!” You squeak, and you run off before his teasing laughter can envelope you once more.

You take your sweet time wandering around the store - not because you don’t know where the button down is, but because you need the time to get a grip on yourself. Why are you acting like a giddy, doe-eyed college girl around him? It’s just Sylus, for goodness sake!

You stop in front of a mirror by the button downs, looking at yourself in the reflection. It’s still you - still the same cardigan, tank top, and long jean skirt you put on this morning. Still the same hair, same nails, same eye bags under your eyes you gained when you tossed and turned over him and his safety…

You scowl at your reflection, marching over to the rack you picked up the shirt and rifling through for a bigger size. By the time you grab the article of clothing, you have settled something in yourself and created a new, calm demeanor in which to approach your emotions so that they don’t go mucking up your time with him.

It was one night, and he surely isn’t thinking about it in the same way you were over the past couple of weeks. You’re over it. You don’t care.

And you’ll spend the rest of this spring day convincing yourself if you have to.

You make your way back to the dressing room, but you pause when you hear a pair of voices drawing closer to you. You pause, straining to hear - only for your muscles to freeze up when you realize just who those tones belong to.

Shit shit shit, ____! Hide behind the clothing rack-

“Man, I miss ____,” Tara sighs as you all but throw your body against the nearest clothing rack, holding the shirt you picked up for Sylus and praying that the silky black fabric makes you vanish from all view. “She’d make today so fun! I mean, we could go to the library and then do groceries, maybe cook a meal in her dream of a kitchen?”

“____ and I would be cooking,” Simone corrects, and you shiver when you hear Tara’s scoff move closer to you. “You would be eating the things we prepared before we even finished anything!”

“Okay, in my defense-” Tara begins, but you can’t find it in yourself to be interested in their rambles when you see Simone’s signature inky black hair in your peripheral vision. You don’t even think, you just walk as fast as you can towards the dressing room.

You breathe a deep sigh of relief when you make your way back to Sylus’s designated fitting room, pulling the fabric just the tiniest bit and shoving the hanger into the small room.

“You were gone for a while, ____.” Sylus’s voice is casual as he takes the hanger from you, although you don’t miss the curiosity that tinges his tone as he pulls the curtain shut. “What were you doing, fighting Wanderers in the mall?”

“I wish,” you mumble, and you tilt your head back against a nearby column as you remember your vow to keep your cool around him. “I got…I got lost.”

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” he replies teasingly.

“I- fuck, Sylus,” you curse, and you fiddle with the ends of your cardigan as you direct your vision to the ceiling and try your absolute hardest to not spill your every thought about him to him. “I saw my friends so I needed to dodge them.”

“Why would you need to hide from them? Did something happen?”

“No, not at all!” you begin, trying to think of some sort of reason that’ll get him off of your back. “I just-”

“Just what, kitten?”

“I-” you try to begin again, but your voice tapers off as it dawns on you just how insane this entire situation is. The person you’re falling deeply for is currently trying on clothes, and you’re right outside his dressing room while your friends are in the same store the two of you are in. You’re on the precipice of inadvertently announcing to the world that the infamous leader of Onychinus is the one you can’t get your mind off at all - but your fear of his response is holding you back.

You try to squash the words that are on the tip of your tongue, the questions that have been haunting you over the past couple of weeks. How can you even begin to tell Sylus how much you missed him, that you think about that night more times than you care to admit?

Does he know how deeply he’s burrowed himself into your heart?

You clench your fists and open your mouth, ready to come up with some shitty excuse, but before something can spill out you hear Tara’s voice and you gasp.

“Shit-” you all but gasp to yourself as you yank the curtain open, stuffing yourself into the dressing room before you can even think about your actions.

“I could’ve sworn I heard her voice,” you hear Simone muse as you hear footsteps walk past the dressing room. “She said something about a…stylus?”

You hear a chuckle from above you, and you immediately push your hand up to cover his mouth while you grip the curtain in your fist. “Don’t. Even. Start.”

“Just say you miss ____ and keep moving!” Tara’s muffled voice gets louder as the pair passes by Sylus’s dressing room, and you close your eyes as if it’ll make you disappear. “Although…I miss her too, honestly.”

“I’m not exaggerating, Tara,” Simone scoffs back, and a little piece of you dies when you hear her enter the dressing room opposite the one you’re currently in. “I could’ve sworn I saw her too, in that cardigan she was agonizing over buying-”

“You just have ____. She’s probably at home, cooking my favorite meal while I can’t swipe it away.” Tara sighs. You hear the dressing room’s curtain next to your’s swish open, and your stomach drops even more when you hear Tara’s laughter too close to your space as she shuts the curtain. “Or taking a nap. Maybe reading a book.”

“Didn’t you say she has a mysterious man she’s been sighing over for the past couple of weeks?” You feel Sylus’s mouth quirk up in a smirk from beneath your palm at Simone’s musings and you scowl as you press your hand harder against his face, cursing all those times you dreamed about those same lips while at work. “Maybe she’s getting railed.”

You feel the embarrassment deep in your stomach before you even register what she said, but when your brain processes what she just said - “Oh no, oh no no no this cannot be happening,” you squeal quietly to yourself, chancing a look at the man who’s lips went slack against your hand.

You see Sylus’s eyes widen in realization before taking on a slight sparkle. His lips begin to move against your palm but you press your hand into his face, looking back up at the ceiling and chanting at the universe to do something, anything to get you out of this situation. Hell, you’d even accept a Wanderer just magically spawning in the middle of the dressing room instead of this mess.

“Ew, Simone - not something to be discussing in a dressing room!” Tara fake gags and you almost want to say thank you out loud - but that’s before Tara laughs once again. “But let’s be real, she probably is getting railed right now.”

“And good for her!” The both of them laugh in their respective dressing rooms, and you look down at your feet because you want nothing more than to have the ground swallow you whole.

There’s no way this is happening to you right now.

All of a sudden, you feel your wrist being pulled away and your body being pressed up against the wall of the dressing room. Your eyes widen as you see Sylus in his cocky, confident glory, and you try not to gasp too loudly when his palms rest against your waist. “You’ve been dreaming about me at work, kitten?”

“That’s not-” You try to begin, but you find that you can’t focus on his eyes and his face because you refuse to believe that this is happening to you right now. You have to shift your attention now, because if you don’t you lose your mind at your shared proximity with him right now.

You feel yourself grow flustered as the seconds begin to drag by and you try to look somewhere, anywhere that isn’t his face, but that means looking at his neck - the same neck you’ve been wanting to leave marks on. Your eyes travel past the silver chain resting against his collarbones and it’s only when you see the top of his chest do you realize that he’s shirtless - only in the unbuttoned cotton shirt he was trying on and his low hanging pants.

“Fuck,” you mumble, and you try to hide just how nervous you are by closing your eyes and willing yourself to just get it together.

“I think it’s endearing, ____,” Sylus whispers, and you gasp when you feel his mouth against your ear. His lips just barely brush against your earlobe in a way that has you believing that you’re dreaming, and you shiver when he begins to map a course along your jawline. As his lips run its course down your neck his hands slowly move down from your waist, and you feel your stomach do a dangerous flip when his palms slowly squeeze the flesh of your hips. You can’t help it - you move your hands up to his shoulders and let your head fall against his collarbone so that you can try to disguise just how much he affects you.

“How cute you must be, looking out the window and thinking about little old me,” he teases - just enough to annoy you, but also in a gentle tone that lets you know he more than likes the idea of your thoughts being consumed wholly by him. His hand reaches up and cups your chin, forcing you to look up at his soft eyes and coy smirk. “So much so that your friends know and think that you’re…how did they say it?”

His fingers tense against your chin ever so slightly, and the words tumble out from your lips before you can stop them. “You railing me.”

Sylus’s eyes widen at your candidness, and he huffs out a small laugh as pink begins to dust his cheeks. “Yeah, that.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as the two of you hear Tara and Simone giggle softly, discussing something amongst themselves. That telltale tightness of apprehension begins to grip at you and you move to make some sort of space between you and Sylus, but before you can do so he shifts so that his left arm is braced above your head and his right hand rests on your cheek, thumb gently brushing the skin right below your lips.

“Is that what you want, ____?” He murmurs, this time letting his lips press harder against the skin of your cheek. “Do you want me to press you into your mattress and fuck you until you’re crying into your pillows?”

“Sylus-” You gasp at his sudden crass words, and you feel lightheaded as all of the fear of getting caught turns into molten lust that settles into the pit of your stomach. “Don’t say that so loudly-”

“I’m not, though.” He knows it, and you know it too. “Can you even process what I’ve said over the beating of your heart, ____?”

You still yourself as much as you can, and you register with a start that he’s right - your heart is practically beating out of your chest, the drumming clouding your earlobes. “I-”

“I don’t want to fuck you like that, though.”

Your hands travel from your sides to his shoulders, fingers grazing the wrists of his silvery white hair as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. You finally allow yourself to tilt your head up to look directly into his burning gaze - one that speaks of the desire that he has only for you.

“I want to take my time with you,” Sylus confesses softly, pressing his body against yours. Your fingers tighten on his hair when you feel the beginnings of hardness against your stomach, and you fight every urge in your body screaming to roll your hips against his when you hear a low groan rumble in his chest. “I want it to be gentle and take care of you, like that night. I - fuck, ____, I want to worship every inch of you again.”

His lips are hovering dangerously close to yours, and you know that if you angle your head up at just the right angle - he would lean down and finish the job. And oh, you want him to do it.

You want him to confirm the truth that the both of you know. You want him to make you his.

“Sylus-” you sigh, neediness coloring your tone as you begin to tilt your head up. “I-”

“I know, my angel,” he murmurs softly, lips just far away enough you can feel his lips barely brush against yours. “Is it terrible for me to confess that all of my thoughts were consumed by you while I was gone?”

“No,” you immediately say back, the movement of your lips creating the slightest bit of friction against his smiling mouth. “My friends are right, you know. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you these past few weeks but you…you haven’t left my mind in a long time, Sylus.”

You feel the corners of your lips tilt upwards in a smile that mirrors him, and your heart melts ever so slightly when you see the crinkles on the corners of his eyes - the ones that only appear when he’s truly happy. Your thumb swoops down to trace the skin and he leans into the contact, allowing his nose to brush against yours.

“____,” he whispers softly, beginning to bend down and press his forehead against yours. You tiptoe up, beginning to close the space in between the two of you and he presses his hands into your hips to steady you. “I-”

“-I’m starving!” Tara squeals as you both hear the curtain next to you open.

It’s like a bucket of cold water was thrown at the two of you. You’re both immediately creating space between each other - you rubbing at your cheeks furiously to hide the dazed look you know is on your face while Sylus clears his throat and tries to discreetly adjust the front of his pants.

“Yeah yeah,” Simone grumbles, and your sudden relief almost drowns out your intense need when you hear her curtain open too. You hear their footsteps join together, and you hold your breath as they continue their conversation.

“Can we get noodles now? I’ll pay this time, swear on my life,” Their footsteps travel past the dressing room you and Sylus are in, and you hear Simone make a noise of agreement before their sounds recede into the distance.

You count to ten in your head, gathering as much bravado as you can and schooling your face into as calm and pleasant of one as you can manage before turning around to face him. While you were steeling yourself for whatever Sylus may have thrown at you, you still feel yourself deflate at how quickly he’s composed himself too - although you can still see a particular softness in his gaze as he regards you.

“I take it we’re not getting noodles?” He asks rhetorically, and you can’t help but snort.

“Absolutely not,” you mumble. You look at the pile of clothing in the dressing room, and you point to the black, short-sleeved button down that’s currently on his body. “I like that one, by the way.”

And before he can say anything else, you’re making your way out of the dressing room - lest you do something stupid like kiss him then and there.

Surprisingly enough, you and Sylus bounce back easily from…whatever the fuck happened in that dressing room.

Dinner was a quick affair, with you insisting on pasta from an Italian spot close to the center of the city. Having changed into his casual spring clothing, Sylus drove the two of you to the chosen restaurant. It was clear to you that Sylus was also affected by what happened because his hand hadn’t rested on your thigh like it always did. Instead, his fingers tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel as you looked out on the horizon - craving his contact but knowing that the two of you needed time to think about what was said.

Even during the actual meal, the two of you were silent save for the occasional praise for the pasta or the appetizers. You could feel the tension between the two of you - thick as a knife, but which one of you would make the first move?

You wish you had the courage to reach out and hold his hand.

Even now, as you’re walking in the Linkon City Central Gardens, it’s clear that the two of you are too afraid to reach out and do something. Sylus walks a comfortable distance behind you, taking in the beginnings of blooms that line the paths. Cherry blossom petals drift in the air and you think to yourself that it would be much better with someone walking side by side with you - holding your hand, arm around your shoulder, anything.

That’s it, you think to yourself. Have courage and think of something.

“You know, they sometimes have daturas on display,” you begin.

You hear his strides grow longer until he walks beside you, the beginnings of sunset washing him in a golden hue. “Oh, yeah? Are they hidden in a corner because they’re poisonous?”

There’s a bitter edge in his tone, and you realize the implications of your words. Does he think that you don’t want to display your affection for him to the entire world?

“Not at all,” you reply, and you finally take your chance and stretch your pinky so that it brushes against his ever so slightly. You breathe a slight sigh of relief when his pinky reaches out, looping itself around you and you take it as your sign to continue. “The gardens have education nights, and they have a specific one called MIsunderstood Beauties. Daturas are a big highlight of those nights.”

“And why is that?” Sylus muses.

“Well,” you begin, fighting to keep your breathing even when he finally intertwines your fingers together. “They first go over the risks of them, just for safety. And then they talk about the science and structure of the flower.”

“And then?”

“Then they talk about the myths,” you continue, letting your feet guide the two of you aimlessly. “People fear the things they don’t understand, so they create reasons to cope with that. Yes, the flowers are poisonous but they’re given a bad rep of witchcraft and evil. They’re actually more complex than that, though.”

“Tell me more,” Sylus says, and you look over your shoulder to look at him curiously. Your heart beats just a little bit faster when he looks at you with rapt attention, although you’re not quite sure if it’s because of your impromptu flower lesson or you.

“In another culture, daturas symbolize protection.” Sylus’s fingers tighten at your statement, and you smile to yourself as you continue. “People would display them in front of their houses to ward off evil and invite sweet dreams in. Daturas grew to be a symbol of safe keeping - the most beautiful protector of all things good.”

You let a comforting silence blanket the two of you as you continue to guide him around. You know he isn’t dumb, you know he’s figured out what you’re trying to tell him. 

You just hope that he knows you mean it.

You stumble upon a clearing, and you gasp as you come across one of your favorite flowers. “Sylus!” You squeal, and before you even register what’s happening you're dragging him to look at the field full of sunset colored ranunculus flowers.

“I didn’t realize they were blooming already!” You begin excitedly, taking in the nearest peach colored bloom. “They only bloom for a few weeks during the springtime…”

You don’t even realize it in the throes of your happiness, but Sylus is looking down at you with an unspeakable warmth in his eyes as you continue to ramble on about the flowers - the beginnings of his rare, real smile forming at the corners of his lips as he takes in the sheer joy that is you.

He slowly moves his eyes down your face, carving each detail he’s cherished in his past lifetime into his memory for safekeeping. The slope of your nose, your mouth gasping in awe at the flowers before you, the way the setting sun hits the back of your head and gives the illusion that you’re a real angel - every bit of you is scored onto his heart, because he doesn’t want to forget the details that make you his very reason for existence. 

Not only in this lifetime, but in future lives.

His hand twitches, and he jolts a little when he realizes you still have his fingers wound around his own. He looks down at your intertwined digits and every instinct is screaming at him to pull you closer, wrap his arms around you and never let you go, to kiss you, dammit - anything at all. He should do something to cement this moment, mark it as something that only exists between the two of you-

-but he can’t bring himself to do so.

Sylus knows in his heart of hearts you feel the way that he feels - that you care for him in a way that he doesn’t deserve. He knows he’ll move heaven and earth to give you anything you would ever want, make sure you never felt any sort of pain or sadness. He wants to protect you because you are the good in his life - but he’s scared to let you know that.

He doesn’t deserve this purity - your overwhelming love and light.

Realizing that Sylus has gone still, you stop your ramblings about the flowers and look up at him with a curious expression. “What is it?”

You feel his fingers tense slightly between your own as you take in the way he swallows nervously, giving him the time to formulate his response. You watch as he battles with the swirling thoughts in his mind, and you feel your heart sink slightly at the way he schools his face into his usual cool demeanor - although you're slightly placated by the way his fingers squeeze reassuringly.

“It’s nothing, ____.” He murmurs. “Let’s get you home.”

The drive home is…uneventful.

In a way, you’re almost thankful for it - thankful that you even have this peaceful time with Sylus after the time he’s spent away from you. The silence that filled his car wasn’t uncomfortable at all - it’s pleasant, the two of you simply soaking in the last inky strands of purple that streak the horizon before the dark indigo of night spread itself over the entirety of the sky. His hand resting on your thigh never strays any higher and your palm easily finds its way on top of his, gently massaging his knuckles while wishing that you were just a little bit braver.

For what? You’re not entirely sure.

Maybe to say something to him when he was looking at you while the two of you were at the Linkon City Central Gardens. His eyes were indescribably soft, and his mouth was slightly slack before it morphed itself into a real smile. It wasn’t any of his usual smirks or half grins -your favorite one that overtakes his entire face. 

A smile that mirrors how you feel about him.

He had pulled away from you then, but maybe you can try to find it in you to pull him back in. Even just to tell him how you truly feel - how you feel that he’s the datura that protects you and brings you peace in your sleep when he’s close. Maybe kiss him on his cheek.

Yes, maybe you’ll do that tonight.

You don’t realize your self-imposed stupor until you feel the car slowly roll to a stop, Sylus cutting the engine and squeezing your thigh gently. “We’re at your’s now, kitten.”

You can’t help the way your heart sinks in your chest, but you put on a brave smile as you squeeze his hand in response. “Will you walk me up to mine?”

You know you don’t even have to ask, but he humors you by giving you a wink and pushing himself out of the car. You wait patiently for him to walk around the front and open the passenger door, and you accept his waiting hand.

“Make sure to drink plenty of water,” he says softly as the two of you step into the elevator. You press the button that leads to your floor, and you allow yourself to lean your head against his shoulder. Sylus responds by pressing his temple against your own, and you can’t help but smile at the sudden warmth.

“You need to take care of yourself too,” you reply once you hear the telltale ding! of the elevator stopping. You both walk towards your door, and you swiftly type in your apartment’s code before opening the door and standing at the threshold.

“Well…” Your voice drifts off as you try and think of a way to extend your time with him - you don't want this to end at all.

Sylus quirks an eyebrow at you, a teasing smirk beginning to form on his face as he crosses his arms. “Well, kitten?”

The silence stretches as you try and think of something to do. The ball is very well in your court and you don’t want to toss away this opportunity - you need to think of something and fast.

Fuck it, you finally think to yourself before you tiptoe up to press a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

You watch with slight mirth as his face flushes an endearing pink, his fingers reaching up to touch the skin your lips graced. You flash a quick smile at him, and you murmur a soft goodnight before turning to enter your apartment-

-only to be turned back around by a strong hand, and a warm mouth finally pressing against your own.

Your eyes instantly flutter shut, arms reaching up to wrap around Sylus’s broad shoulders. Sylus’s hands fumble blindly behind you, pushing the door open and allowing him the space to guide you into your apartment. He kicks the door shut behind him, and it’s only a quick moment before his hands travel to your thighs and picks you up easily, wrapping you in his embrace.

“Sylus-” you pull away and barely gasp his name before he groans, leaning back down to press kisses all over your face. You giggle at the feeling and he smiles down at you before recapturing your lips.

The kisses are slow, filled with a sense of longing that the two of you felt during your long weeks apart. You can feel Sylus’s intent to stay - to hold you for as long as he can, to lavish you in the attention you so crave from him.

And you have no intention of stopping him.

Soon enough, you enter your bedroom and he gently pushes you down onto the bed, allowing for him to press his entire body weight onto your body as you slowly sink into the cushy material. It feels like you’re floating in the best way possible - you’re surrounded by the spicy, almost wine-like scent that lingers on his clothes that mixes in with something that makes Sylus Sylus.

It’s addicting. You never want it, him, to go away.

You pull away just a little bit to take in the flush on his cheeks and you smile when you do so, gently pushing his hair away from his forehead and letting yourself play with the slightly sweaty strands. “You’re so handsome.”

He scoffs slightly, grabbing your wrist so that he can bring his mouth to your hand. You shiver when he presses gentle kisses onto the pads of your fingers, his actions reverent and filling your stomach with that same lazy, content feeling you experienced this morning when you woke up.

“And you’re the most ethereal person I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing,” he mumbles back, kissing your mouth lazily. He pulls away and props himself up, letting his hands push the fabric of your cardigan and tank top up over your stomach. “I want these off, angel.”

You comply with his soft command, letting him drag the layers over your head and tossing them to some corner of your room. Your fingers dance along the buttons of the shirt you brought him and he lets you push the offending garment off of his shoulders before pressing himself against your body - but this time, he kisses the skin of your jaw and slowly moves down.

You shiver when his lips run along the column of your neck and you arch your back, subtly giving him a hint. He catches your meaning, deftly unclasping your bra and helping you remove the garment so that he can pay attention to all of you.

“Sylus,” you moan softly, and your head falls back when his lips wrap around one of your nipples. You whimper when he flicks his tongue against the sensitive skin, his left hand reaching up to tease the other bud. His ministrations leave you writhing on your bed, and you all but gasp out, “More, please.”

“Good girl,” he praises, and he continues to move his lips down your stomach. His fingers make quick work of the button holding your jeans closed and pulls the stiff fabric off in one movement, leaving you exposed to the cold air of your bedroom and his hungry stare.

You watch, body trembling as his eyes slightly narrow and his lips slightly open in awe. When you first spent the night with him, he had asked you to never be shy when with him - so you keep these thoughts in mind as you slowly spread your legs open.

“I missed you a lot,” you confess shyly, although your movements are anything but demure. “What are you going to do about it?”

In a blink of an eye you’re flat on the bed with your legs high in the air, Sylus slowly kneeling in front of you. His breathing is labored, eyes hooded as he looks up at you. You gasp when his hands land on your thighs, placing them on his shoulders and effectively keeping you spread open for him - exposing yourself for his awaiting mouth.

“Little vixen,” he murmurs. His warm breath washes over your most sensitive spots and you shiver, feeling yourself clench in anticipation. Your eyes slip shut when you feel a single finger slide up the front of the panties you’re wearing, and his laughter has your stomach doing a delicious turn - right on the precipice of getting exactly what you want.

“I should make you wait,” Sylus muses darkly.

“Please don’t,” you whimper, voice cutting off in a high pitched whine when his finger rubs a slow circle right on top of your clit. The sudden stimulation has your back arching, core fluttering dangerously close to his devilish lips. Sylus presses a firm hand on your lower stomach, though, stopping all movement and letting you stew in your desperation.

“Please,” you beg, tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes. “Please, it’s been too long and we didn’t get to go together. I missed you, I need you, please don’t make me wait.”

“You’re right, we’ve waited long enough,” he replies. His fingers push the soaked piece of fabric away from your sticky folds, and you jolt when you feel the sudden air on your sensitive pussy. Sylus pinches your thigh and you look down just in time to see him give you a quick wink before he presses his lips against you.

“Fuck, Sylus-” Your voice is a broken moan, and your hands immediately find themselves in his silky hair in a bid to pull him closer. Sylus hums in pleasure and the tiny vibrations spread throughout your body, bathing you in an electric pleasure that has your head spinning.

Sylus’s tongue is slow, gently flicking the tip up and down the length of your entire pussy so that he can collect your juices and savor what he missed over your weeks apart. His movements slowly build up a pleasurable knot in your stomach that you feel will unravel at any moment - but Sylus is the one that gets to decide when that is, leaving you entirely at his mercy.

“Please,” you gasp. Tears prick on the corners of your eyes as you tug on his hair imploringly, making his lips disconnect from your pussy for just one moment - a moment that feels like an eternity in your lust-affected state. “Sy- Sylus, please make me cum.”

His eyes meet yours, and you feel yourself clench at the dazed look in his eyes. Sylus rarely ever lets things get the best of him, you know that to be pure fact. But in this moment, with how vulnerable and hazy he looks just from lightly pleasuring you - it makes you feel incredible.

He’s quick to recover, though the hazy look in his eyes never fully diminishes. His hands tighten on your thighs and he regards you once more. “You know the signal, right?”

You tap your thumb on his forehead twice, and he gives you a smile and a quick kiss on your knee. The subtle touches have you melting for him in more ways than you could ever fathom, the sweet movements making your heart skip a beat as he slowly wrecks you from the inside out.

His mouth is back on your pussy with a flash, lips wrapping around your clit so that his tongue can lightly flick at the sensitive bud. Your head falls back onto the mattress and your chest heaves, the sudden onslaught of sensations bathing your body in an inescapable pleasure that has the knot in your stomach unravelling. “Sylus-” you begin, but he stops you.

“Cum for me, angel,” he murmurs, just audible enough for you to hear before sucking on your clit once more.

The knot in your stomach snaps at his soft command and you can barely gasp as your orgasm washes over your entire body, making your toes curl and thighs shake against his head. You barely register the moans you’re making - would anyone file a noise complaint tomorrow? You don’t really care, not when Sylus is igniting your body with the pleasure he laves over your body with just his mouth.

Your orgasm slowly subsides, and you whine at the sensitivity of your pussy as Sylus continues to suck against your hole, groaning at the taste of you against his tongue. Your hips buck so that you can try and move away from his mouth, but his hand reaches down to stop you once more. 

“You know the signal, angel.” It’s a reminder, a dangerous one when you feel his fingers slowly beginning to sink into your needy hole. “I’ll stop when you want, but you have to tell me properly.”

Even with his rough tone, he pulls away just the slightest bit - waiting for you to call the shots. His care makes your heart soar, and you shake your head the tiniest bit. He nods once more, returning to your pussy with the same amount of vigor as before, but this time, his fingers join the fray.

You whine at the feeling of his ring finger entering your cunt, the stretch making you moan. While he was gone, you had tried to fill the gaps in yourself but it never felt good as when he did it - and so you welcome the burn, especially when his middle finger joins his first finger, slowly beginning to thrust in and out.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he says in a whisper. “I missed your beautiful body, this pretty pussy…”

His voice tapers off as his fingers begin to speed up, and your voice leaves you in a pretty gasp. “The way you tighten around me as you moan, wishing it was my cock.”

His fingertips graze a certain spot in you, and you cry out. Even though you’re sensitive out of your mind, Sylus’s ministrations have you back on the teetering on the edge, ready to fall off-

-and he grants you that, letting his fingers press against your g-spot and triggering the end you so desire.

Your body seizes up and you nearly scream at the sensation, your orgasm leaving you breathless and covering your body in a light sheen of sweat. Your fingers flex against Sylus’s head - undecided on whether to pull him closer or push him away because you’re overstimulated beyond belief but you want him to continue ruining you in the way you’ve craved.

Sylus decides for the both of you, and he hastens his movements to help you ride out your orgasm. He pulls his fingers out of your fluttering hole and places his hand back on your thighs, pulling you as close as he can so that he can drown in you. You cry out when you feel his tongue lash at your clit once, twice, three times before a weaker climax washes over your body and leaves you limp on your bed.

You barely register Sylus pulling away, the drunk look on his eyes warring with the concerned frown that graces his lips. “Kitten, are you okay?” His fingers brush against your forehead, and you shiver when his thumb moves to brush the line of your jaw before pressing against your swollen lips.

“You. I need you, please.”

It’s a breathy plea, one that’s full of yearning and a signal that let’s Sylus know you’re okay. You know he would stop with just one word from you, but you have no intention of stopping until you see him unravel in the same way he made you fall apart.

You see Sylus’s hesitation, but before he can say anything you wrap your legs around his thighs to pull him closer to you, allowing for his hard cock to brush against your sensitive pussy. You both moan at the contact, and you let yourself wantonly grind your hips against the fly of his pants so that he knows just how much you want him.

“Pretty angel,” he murmurs, his fingers massaging the skin of your hips as he guides your rhythm. “You’re glowing as you make a mess of yourself on my pants, you know that? You’re so beautiful right now.”

“I just want you,” you moan back. Your hands land on top of his and you intertwine his fingers in between yours, giving him a squeeze. “I want you to feel good, too.”

“I already feel incredible, ____.” Sylus lets himself fall on top of you, shifting his weight so that his hips press against your pussy just a little bit harder. He leans down to brush a chaste kiss over your mouth and you tilt your head up, chasing the lips that you so deeply crave. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, my angel.”

“I’m more than okay,” comes your immediate response. Your hands travel down his shoulders, past defined pecs and the center of his chest. Your fingers brush the sensitive area and he groans, letting his head flop onto your shoulder. You take his heavy breaths as encouragement, tracing his abs before finally letting your fingers graze against the waistband of his pants.

“I want you in me,” you say softly, equal parts desire and honesty coloring your voice. “I missed you, Sylus. I don’t want you to leave for a long time - I want you to stay with me.”

Sylus’s eyes soften at your words, and he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. You feel his hands cover your own, and he helps you with unbuttoning his pants before he pushes the unnecessary fabric down his legs, kicking them aside.

“You already have all of me.” It’s a statement he seals with a kiss to your lips before he pulls at the flimsy lace of your panties. You force your hips up and he drags the scrap of fabric down your legs, barely casting it a glance before he tosses them over his shoulder. He adjusts your body so that your heads rest on your pillows and you’re settled comfortably before the bed, and he makes his way on top of you so that he hovers above you.

Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his swollen tip catch against your clit and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he presses himself flush against your pussy, letting himself grind messily against your cunt. “All of this for me,” he muses in between short pants. “My kitten, my angel, my ____. I’m all yours, even if you decide that you don’t want me anymore.”

“I’ll always want you,” you reply, matching your hips with his rhythm. You place your palms against his cheeks, directing his gaze so that he’s looking directly at you and the sincerity in your expression. “I’ll always find you, and you’ll always be by my side.”

A beat passes, and your heart clenches when you see an indescribable emotion pass over Sylus’s face - one full of intense yearning and a tinge of pain that lets you know he was afraid of you going against your promises in the past. His face smooths out and he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss as he begins to push himself into you.

Even with your climaxes before and how wet you currently are, it’s still a tight fit. The stretch makes you gasp against his mouth, fingernails digging into his shoulders as you try to hold on so that you don’t fall apart from just his cock barely entering you. Sylus takes his time though, massaging your hips and letting his lips wander all of your face as you relax and let him in further and further - until he’s all the way in and you’re full of him.

“Sylus-” you moan, head falling back. His head rests against your neck and he latches his mouth against your sensitive pulse point, sucking on the skin until he leaves a noticeable mark. Your walls clench at his action and you both moan at how your walls squeeze him tightly, trying to pull him in further and further.

“I forgot how fucking tight you get,” he seethes. He leans down and kisses you once again, borderline desperate from how worked up he was seeing you fall apart multiple times and now - deep inside the woman he’s so deeply in love with. “You truly never want me to leave, do you?”

“No,” you cry out. Sylus begins to move his hips - slow, rolling movements that consistently hit your sweet spot and bring you closer and closer towards your shattering point. Your ankles cross against the small of his back, keeping him in place as you begin to lose yourself in the feeling of him ruining you. “Stay with me, please.”

“I don’t intend to ever leave you, my angel,” Sylus grunts out. One of his hands moves to rest on your mound so that his fingers have easy access to your clit. His fingers strum along the sensitive bud as he punctuates his statement with a thrust of his hips, leaving you a moaning mess on his cock. “I don’t intend for the most beautiful person the universe has given me to slip in between my fingers.”

His words have your stomach tightening, and you pull him down so that you can kiss him. Unlike the last slow and languid kisses of before, this one is filled with desperation and need - letting the both of you know that you’re both reaching your respective ends.

“Please,” you whisper, neediness coloring your voice. “I want you to cum in me.”

“Fuck, ____-” he groans, voice cutting short when he hits your g-spot - making you moan and tighten impossibly more around his cock. “Are you sure, angel?”

“Please,” you beg. Your stomach tightens once more, almost about to fall towards your climax. “Cum in me, Sylus.”

“Oh, shit-” With his words he falls apart, his lips falling onto yours with a messy kiss as he cums in your pussy. The sensation triggers your final end and you fall after him, tremors wracking your body as your back arches. So lost in your pleasure, you can’t register the words that Sylus groans reverently above you, but you don’t care in the slightest.

It feels like you’re glowing from the inside out - both from the overwhelming pleasure he’s currently giving you and the intense love that you feel for him in your chest.

Sylus leans down and presses his lips against your own in an open-mouthed kiss. His kiss is messy and hot, tongues dancing together as he thrusts into you with a stilted rhythm. Even in his end, he’s still making sure you feel incredible, and your heart warms at that obvious motive.

Sylus groans after he finishes his spend, letting himself fall on top of you. The sudden weight knocks what little wind out of your body, and you laugh as you gasp for air. “Sylus!”

“Mmm, shush kitten,” he mumbles, nuzzling his nose into your neck and breathing in deeply. “I feel like my soul left my body.”

His statement draws another giggle from your chest, and you feel his smile in the kiss that he leaves on the mark on your neck. Your arms wrap around his neck and your fingers brush the sweaty strands that stick to his forehead, and you feel the almost purr that rumbles his chest at your fingernails slightly scratching his head.

“I meant what I said.” It’s a sudden serious statement that has Sylus looking up at you, although you continue to stroke his hair. “I want you to stay with me.”

His eyes soften, and he smiles at you with your most favorite smile. “And I mean it too, ____. I don’t intend to leave you in this lifetime.”

Sylus shifts upwards, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close until your breasts are pressed against his chest. His hand catches your wrist gently and he moves your hand down so that it rests on his left pec - right on top of his steadily beating heart.

“I may be a wanted criminal by the Hunter’s Association, and I may not be able to fully express my…affection for you,” he says steadily, although you catch his hesitation right before he says “affection.” He clears his throat though, and lets his nose brush against your nose. “But you, ____, are scored on my heart.” 

He presses your hand against his heart, and you feel your eyes water at the devotion in his eyes. “I swear to always be there for you.. We may not be able to ever go on big public dates, but I swear to you, I will be beside you as an equal if you’ll let me. And I…I will always protect you.”

His words render you speechless, eyes watering at his honest declaration. He may not have said it out loud, but you both know that deep down, he loves you.

And you love him.

More than life itself.

“When this world is ours, I’ll show you off and scream that you’re mine from the rooftops.” Your voice is steady with conviction, and you grin when he laughs at you. “But for now…”

Your hips roll against his once more, and you both groan when you feel his cock begin to harden against you once more.

“Why don’t we make up for lost time?”

a/n: well ,,, hello there :D i hope you enjoyed <3

[notsodelirious]

Anon from that last ask here, yes king i am also down for goody two shoes hero reader 🫡🫡🫡

appreciate it 💀 here you go <3 (original ask here)

synopsis: Jason swoops in and fucks up your mission, and you deserve compensation

notes: NSFW MDNI, also no, I cannot explain why some of my Jason fics end up with a vague undertone of pet play I’m normal I swear (it’s mostly his muzzle mask)

tags: dubcon (but Jason is very much into it, mostly the illusion of lack of choice), restraints, anal, reader is pretty mean, bickering, rivals to lovers(?), male reader, roughly 2k words, no use of y/n

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

You’d been too late—you’d been trailing this group for weeks, tracking their movements, detailing their transactions, cross referencing every single background check, alibi, crumb of information.

For nothing.

To find the entire gang either dead or close to dying.

You only felt anger as your footsteps, dampened by the blood under your soles, squelched as you moved forward into the carnage. They were traffickers, human traffickers, some of the worst scum of the earth you had ever seen but even then you couldn’t bear to look down at the corpses lying at your feet.

“Fuck.”

“You like it?”

You already knew who it was—you didn’t need to turn around to see his smug grin or his lazy stride as he came up behind, leaning over your shoulder.

“Heard you were looking for ‘em, so I thought I’d do you a solid.”

“This isn’t doing me a solid.”

This was bleak, undeserved, morbid. Undeserved? Maybe not. But it was cruel.

“You can’t keep murdering them.”

“They can’t keep doing crime,” he shrugged as you heard him holster his guns and walk around you and finally came into view. You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“You still can’t kill them, Jason.”

He paused to look up at you—you couldn’t tell behind the muzzle but you knew he was smiling behind his mask.

“Oh, we’re on a first name basis now?”

“I think you’re changing the subject.”

“Oh, am I, Mr Goody Two shoes?”

He stalked back towards you—you always noticed when he squared his shoulders, trying to look so much bigger than you but you were both vigilantes. He was strong, yes, but you all were, you had to be.

Somewhere, his intimidation tactics started leaving you less scared—you didn’t want to think about what was left in its place.

“Fucking bite me.”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Your hand shot out before you could think; grabbing his face and pulling down towards yours, the metal of his muzzle was unforgiving under your gloved fingers. So close he smelled of blood and smog, like a true Gothamite born and bred—only a lifetime of misery and spite could leave such a sour taste.

“Can’t even be muzzled properly, bitch.”

“You love hearing me call your name too much for that.”

You couldn’t even retaliate before you felt a blow to the kneecap, sending you sprawling to the ground with a grunt and he was off, climbing up into the rafters of the warehouse.

He gave you a cheeky wave before he disappeared out the window, leaving you to scramble after him.

You ran across shipping containers as he yelled asinine insults back at you—he knew he was getting under your skin. He loved it, riling you up, pushing you further and further in the hopes of seeing you snap.

You never had.

Not until now.

You didn’t know what random Gotham rooftop he had escaped to. It was the same depressing grey everywhere anyway.

The only things of note were the chain link fence that wrapped around the rooftop parapet and the hole you both climbed through to get where you were.

Jason had slowed during your chase—being chased upstream from the Gotham harbour up into Chinatown would do that to a person, even as trained as Jason. It was the only reason you had managed to grab him before he could fully climb over the fence and dragged him back down, almost smiling when he landed with a thud.

“You are such a pain in the ass,” you said through heavy breathing before you were dragged down to the ground alongside him. It was only through his will that you got him on his stomach, his arm in a lock, and he stayed still as you held him. You ignored how your dick pressed against his ass, or how you were practically straddling his thighs.

“You wish I was a pain in your ass,” you could hear the damn smirk in his grin again as you tugged his arm further, listening to him hiss. But he didn’t break away.

“Bold of you to assume I’d let you do that.”

“What, you? A fucking top? Give me a break,” he snorted.

You didn’t answer, not as you slipped the handcuffs out of your utility belt and around his wrists, swiftly passing the chain behind on the fence post.

You leaned forward, chest pressed along Jason’s back as you reached around to pull his mask off. His body was so warm against yours, still panting and sweaty, no doubt from the exertion—but maybe also from the sudden realisation of entrapment.

“You? A bottom? Because this is what it’s looking like.”

He blinked as he looked down at his wrists, at his very handcuffed wrists, before he tugged harshly, making the entire chain link fence rattle but the restraints didn’t budge.

“What the fuck?” he spat, looking over his shoulder to see you grinning down at him victoriously.

“What’s wrong, baby? Stuck?”

Your hands trailed down, gripping his waist softly—his shoulder-to-waist ratio was truly stupid and caused you to stare more than you probably should. You tugged at his shirt a little, revealing just a sliver of skin.

“You sly fucker, let me go-“

“Which one of these pockets has the lube, hmm? Is it this one?” You groped around his hips as you helped him up onto all fours before you went rifling through his utility belt. You brandished a pocket-sized bottle lube and a condom with a knowing smile.

“How naughty.”

“For fucking... sex ed, you dick.”

“Uh huh, that’s what we’re going with? Sex Ed?” You set both items to the side as you leaned over him again, pulling his hood down so you could see the nape of his neck, the small hairs that were raising along his skin. “You’re such a shit liar,” you whispered as you ran your hand through his hair, lightly scratching the back of his head with blunt nails.

His head dropped the slightest bit and the tension in his shoulders relaxed a little.

“That’s it… good boy.”

“Fuck off,” he groaned but didn’t raise his head. He tugged again at the handcuffs, softer this time, but they wouldn’t budge—the fence post was rusted and poorly cemented into the parapet so it would have probably budge if he’d just twisted his hands a little.

“Not so tough anymore?”

You rolled your hips against his ass as you gently cupped his bulge, only smiling brighter at the feeling of his dick tenting his trousers.

“Such a shit liar.”

“Get the fuck-“ he tried to buck you off but you only used the momentum to pull down his clothes, exposing his cock to the cold Gotham night air.

“Fuck!”

“There you are, gorgeous,” you stroked his cock kindly, watching him twitch and tense in his restraints as he tried to muffle his sounds—it only made your own dick strain uncomfortably in its confines.

You let go of his dick in favour of grabbing his ass, pulling his cheeks apart just to see his hole wink at you, clenching around nothing. You tugged a glove off with your teeth before dropping it.

“Stop fucking teasing.”

“Well which is it?” you asked as you picked up the lube, watching him shiver as you pour some onto his asshole, “Fuck off or stop teasing?” You cover your own fingers before you’re pushing into him, a single finger at first.

He winced as you pushed the second and third in—maybe a little prematurely but your heart leapt at the sound of his whimper as you stretched him open, petting his warm walls.

“Fucking dick,” he grumbled as he tensed around your fingers, acclimatising to the burn.

“Yes, that’s the goal.” You laughed as you held his hips down so he couldn’t kick you, just before curling your fingers into his prostate, watching him fall limp and moan loudly, as if you weren’t finger fucking him on an open rooftop.

You wiped your fingers on his thighs as you pulled out, when you deemed him stretched enough to take you, before reaching down for a condom and the lube again.

“Ready, baby?” you asked but didn’t really care for an answer as you pushed the tip of your cock into his tight warmth. “Oh fuck-“ you gripped his waist as you sat still for a minute, all in an attempt to not blow your load immediately.

You pushed into him slowly, inch by inch just watching as his ass swallowed you whole.

“Ah, ah, shit,” Jason groaned as he dropped his head.

“What’s that handsome?” you smiled before slamming yourself down to the hilt, just to hear him cry out. You grip the back of his hair as you start fucking into him, taking your time as you rut against him, tilting his head so you can see his face, cheeks flush and lips parted. “Aww, is somebody going to cry?”

“So much,” he mumbled as tears brimmed his eyes and yeah, being underprepped and having a fat cock shoved into your ass would make you feel that way.

You just cooed as you leaned down to kiss his cheek, still thrusting into his tight warmth, groaning softly when he’d clench around you.

“You fucking love it, don’t you?” you said as your hands found his balls, rolling them in your hands, watching his cock twitch and leak more pre-cum, dripping onto the concrete floor beneath you, “Keep fucking pushing my buttons—all to get me to fuck your dumb ass, huh?”

You let go of him, pushing your gloved fingers between parted lips instead, watching him gag and drool around the rough leather. His eyes rolled back as you tilted your hips, a punched out moan leaving his mouth as his entire frame trembled, chains jangling against the fence post.

“Did I find the spot?” you smiled as you slammed down again and again, bullying his prostate with your cock. You saw the tension in his jaw before he could bit down on your fingers—you pressed down on his tongue and pulled his mouth open, “No fucking biting.”

You could tell it was coming as he moaned as he laid helplessly beneath you—body tensed and you felt his balls draw up in your hands before he was shooting ropes of cum onto the floor beneath him, his walls tightening around your dick.

You fucked him through his orgasm before tumbling close behind, burying yourself into his ass, dumping your load into the rubber.

“Fuck,” you breathed, heart racing as you looked at the debauched sight beneath you—you pulled away from him completely, listening to him whine as his asshole clenched around nothing, face covered in drool and eyes hazy. “So fucking gorgeous.”

You pulled your condom off and wiped your fingers on his thighs one last time before you tucked yourself away. You unlocked his handcuffs, catching him before he could slump forward face first into the concrete.

“Okay, baby, it’s okay,” you said softly as you brushed his hair back, “You did good.”

“Fuck off,” it was barely more than a rasp but it made you chuckle softly anyway.

“You like me too much for that,” you said in the same soft tone as you tried to wipe down as much of your mess as possible with a tissue before eventually giving up and just shimmying him back into his clothes.

You snorted at the face he pulled.

“You can shower at mine,” you promised as you wiped his face with your sleeve.

“Yours?” he croaked.

“What you trust me to fuck you up the ass but not bring you back to mine?” you laughed as you carefully helped him stand, grin only widening as he winced, “Hate to tell you, mate, but the worst that could happen already happened.”

“You’re such an ass,” you opened your mouth but he just covered it, glaring a little more effectively, “Can it.”

You just raise your hand in surrender before you help him gather your stuff off the rooftop, leaving nothing more than a cum stain on the concrete before the two of you are off disappearing into the night again.

“So, round 2 in the shower?”

“No. My ass hurts.”

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

This was actually so much fun to write when I realised I could tweak that minor detail lol—I really love writing queer relationships

requests are open <3 yes I am ignoring my schoolwork to write these but it’s fine

[gingerteafairy]

𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞

Somethings drag on for too long.

tags n warnings: carmy berzatto x reader, language, longtime friends, suggestive, slow burn past. word count: 2.4k masterlist

Everyone knew Carmy was a little bossy. Well, it was part of his job. Maybe he didn’t like giving orders, especially when they often ended with someone yelling or feeling desperate. However, your relationship with him seemed too close to be labeled as authoritarian abuse, free therapy sessions, or toxic interactions. Damn, you had known him for so long. You’d gone through so many seasons together—trends, wines, changes. Everything seemed to evolve except for the complex dynamic between you and Carmen Berzatto.

“That’s wrong.” Carmy’s voice cut through the kitchen noise, as if he could telepathically sense you skimping on a few sealing seconds out of sheer laziness.

“I know,” you replied without looking, reigniting the flame and moving forward. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be good enough.

"God, Carm,” Marcus grumbled, drying his hands to return to his station beside the chef. "Chill."

“She knows how I am,” was all Carmy needed to say, putting a quiet end to the conversation. Each of you returned to your tasks. "She has known me for a long time. Knows how i work."

“Hands!” you called, plating the dish in the designated container. Everything was just as perfect as Carmy had wanted.

“Chef, can you grab my knife from the other station, please?” Carmy asked, lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes.

“I’m only doing this because I love you,” you teased.

You smiled as light as a feather, heading to the sink to wash your hands before fetching what he needed. The air in the kitchen thickened—though perhaps it was floating rather than heavy—because everyone could see the shared sweetness in the smiles you and Carm exchanged over that dish he was finishing with Marcus.

Handing him the knife, your fingers lingered on his for just a second longer than necessary. You could feel the sugary tension in the air, and an involuntary smile tugged at your lips as you returned to your station. Maybe you had known Carm for too long to change anything now.

Carmen found himself watching your back, like he was trying to figure out what expression you were wearing without having to ask. He knew you were focused. The little curve of your lips when things didn’t turn out how you wanted. The way your brows knit together before you relaxed, remembering how frowning could cause wrinkles. He even pictured you mentally griping about your oily skin and how no cream ever seemed to help. The worst part? He was dead-on. And like you, he felt like he’d known you too long to want anything to change.

You could feel his eyes on you. Your cheeks warmed—not from the kitchen’s heat, but from the sparks in Carmy’s blue eyes. You knew his tells: how he scratched his nose when he was nervous, or how Marcus teased him for staring at you too long for just a boss.

Everybody knew. You both knew.

This unspoken game always made time fly. Maybe just the idea of being close to Carmy was more addicting than the idea of actually being with him. Fear of rejection? Probably. Mostly from him.

As the shift wound down, he quietly set a small slice of pie on your workstation and slipped off to check something in the fridge. His shoulder brushed yours as he passed—so subtle, but deliberate.

You found yourself smiling as you packed up and finally rewarded your taste buds with another one of his masterpieces. You’d wanted to go to Copenhagen with him. Not just for the work. You wanted to share those nights on that tiny boat. To bump into him while moving around, bicker over who got the bathroom first, and watch each other over morning coffee.

You took your time with every bite, savoring each piece like it was gold. In the fridge, Carmen lingered. He tried cooling his body, his mind—maybe his whole life. He worried the pie had come out too dense. He didn’t realize he’d been gone too long until the silence got heavy, and he timidly twisted the lock.

You were still there, pie half-finished.

Damn. Too dense. His chest tightened at your slow chewing, not realizing it was for the opposite reason—it was light as air, like the curls brushing his forehead. You just wanted to savor every second.

“Hey, you wanna head out?” His voice was soft as he scratched the back of his head. He often drove you home after work, but tonight it felt… different.

“Sure.” You took another bite, speeding up to finish. Not a crumb left behind.

“Where to?” He cleared his throat and rubbed his nose. Definitely nervous. That was rare for Carmy. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw him this jittery around you.

“I’ll go wherever you go.” You pulled off your apron, stepping toward the lockers.

“Cool. Follow me.”

“I will.”

It felt like a familiar song—something you’d heard a hundred times but never got sick of. Carmy followed you, your lockers side by side. You bent to grab your bag, and his stubborn gaze followed before he quickly looked away as you stood. You both exchanged smiles before heading to his car.

He’d driven you countless times, yet it always felt new to him. You climbed in, and he started the engine. The destination felt as unclear as it did certain—a pull leading you both somewhere.

“There,” you pointed toward a park. He nodded.

It wasn’t too dangerous—people still strolled here at this hour. You gave a small, awkward smile, realizing couples often came here to kiss or lean on each other under the trees. But this was Carmy. What could you do?

He parked and turned off the engine. Neither of you moved. Realizing it, he switched on the heater and reluctantly turned to you. You’d already been looking at him for a while.

“How you doin’?” His voice broke the quiet. You paused, then turned toward him.

“Good. I think.” You didn’t want to overthink it. Life wasn’t bad—just… monotonous. “What about you?”

“Good.” He shifted in his seat, hands gripping the wheel. Then he exhaled. “Actually, no. I’m good, but I’m nervous. I’m always so fucking… wired.”

“Same.” You sighed heavily. “You still in therapy?”

“Yeah… Actually, AA. I told you.”

“That’s right. Sorry, I forgot.” You unbuckled to sit more comfortably. He did the same, resting his hands in his lap. You pulled out your phone. “How are you today?”

The app showed a smiley face that changed with his input. Carmy chuckled, sliding the bar to neutral. Neither positive nor negative. But when he looked at you again, he changed it to a smile. "Good day."

“Where’d you get that?”

“Found it when I was feelin’ pretty low and wanted to track it,” you explained, tucking your phone away. “You’d be surprised how many neutral faces are logged in there.”

“I wouldn’t be any different.” He let out a soft laugh. “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with my future. Makes me anxious.”

“Same.” You laughed, though it felt more bittersweet.

Carmy’s phone buzzed. He checked it, shaking his head with a smile.

“What’s up?” You leaned in. He lowered his phone.

“Richie. Sending pictures of half-naked dudes and saying happy birthday. And it’s not even my birthday.”

“That’s your idea of ‘heavy’?” You teased as he put his phone away.

“Yeah… guess it’s not heavy.” His smile lingered as he ran a hand over his face, trying to smother the laugh bubbling up.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What do you think about dating?” Your heart wavered, but your voice stayed steady. Carmy clicked his tongue, seeming to chew over the question.

He scratched his head, sighing before answering. “I never got far enough to have an opinion. You know that.”

“I know.” You responded, feeling a little more awkward this time. “Have you had your first kiss?”

“Yeah. Actually… I had my first kiss when I was, like, 3.” He laughed, the ridiculous memory shaking through his body. “I was trying to copy… I dunno… something I saw on a soap opera.”

“What were we thinking, huh?” You chuckled with him, the mood lightening, opening up a little more. “I’ve had a few. But I dunno. It’s like, when things start heating up, I kinda lose interest. Like, ‘well, I’m here now.’”

“Yeah… exactly. There are highs—everything’s great for a minute, then…” He traced a sudden dip with his hand, shaking his head. “It just disappears. And I’m stuck there, same as before.”

“Feels like the idea of being close is way more interesting than actual closeness.” You said thoughtfully, and he stopped, snapping his fingers.

“That’s it.” He licked his lips, glancing around before settling his gaze back on you. “We’re cut from the same cloth.”

“Yeah…” You exhaled, the laughter fading into a comfortable silence. “Wanna kiss?”

“Sure.” He laughed, the sound growing louder as you puckered your lips dramatically. “What’s that?”

“A kiss.” You laughed, blowing him an air kiss that he caught and pressed to his chest. Then his hand moved up, pressing to his lips. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Kiss.” He whispered, resting his hands back on his lap. His lips insisted on curving into a smile. You turned your head to hide yours, just like he did.

For a brief moment, you wanted the playful game to continue—wanted something different. But who knows? Maybe that moment had come and gone. Maybe it had stretched too long.

The silence stayed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like something unspoken hung in the air—heavy with expectation. Carmy let out a long breath, rubbing his hands on his thighs like he was trying to work out some kind of nervous energy.

“You think we’ve been putting something off?” he asked, his gaze fixed straight ahead, like he couldn’t bring himself to look at you.

Your heart jumped at the question. Of course, you’d thought about it before, but hearing it from him made it feel real.

“Maybe,” you answered, softer than you intended. “But if we are… what do you wanna do about it?”

Carmy finally turned his head toward you. His blue eyes locked on yours—intense, but laced with uncertainty. “I’m not good at this. Like, saying what I want. What I feel. It’s just easier when I’m working.”

“What if it doesn’t have to be perfect? What if it just… happens?” you suggested, hoping to ease the weight pressing on his chest.

A small, crooked smile tugged at his lips—one of those rare, genuine smiles. “You always make things sound simpler.”

“Maybe because sometimes they are. We just make ‘em complicated.”

You held each other’s gaze for a long moment. The warmth of the car heater wrapped around you both, making the space feel even more intimate. Carmy’s hands tightened on the steering wheel before he let out another deep breath.

“Wanna take a walk?” he asked, his eyes flickering away for a second before landing back on you.

“Yeah,” you said with a soft smile, sensing the shift in the air.

You stepped out of the car together, walking along the park path. Distant sounds of footsteps and laughter filled the night air, mingling with the occasional rustle of leaves. Conversation came easier—work stories, childhood memories, even a few half-formed plans for the future.

After a while, Carmy came to a stop. He turned to face you, hesitation mingling with a newfound determination in his expression.

“Can I try somethin’?” he asked, voice low and careful.

“Yeah. You can.”

He stepped in closer, the distance between you shrinking until the air felt charged, heavy with unsaid words and possibilities. The sounds of the park faded into the background—the faint rustle of leaves and distant footsteps no longer mattered. The only thing you were aware of was him.

Carmy hesitated, his gaze searching yours as if silently asking for permission. There was a vulnerability in his eyes—an openness he rarely let anyone see. His hand twitched slightly at his side, as if he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure he should. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he leaned in.

Time seemed to slow down. His breath mingled with yours, warm against the cool night air. He moved with that same mixture of care and uncertainty that was so distinctly him—measured, cautious, but also raw with emotion.

When his lips finally brushed yours, it was gentle—like he was afraid to break something fragile. Yet there was a quiet intensity beneath it, a weight carried by all the moments you’d both left unspoken. The kiss lingered, neither of you willing to let it end too soon, hands taking a slow path to each other's side, gripping gently on your waist.

When he pulled back, his eyes stayed locked on yours, his breathing slightly uneven. He didn’t move far—just enough to study your face. He was searching for something—for regret, hesitation, or anything that might tell him he’d misread the moment.

But there was nothing like that. Instead, your gaze held his, steady and sure. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips—a silent reassurance that you were exactly where you wanted to be. And slowly, the tension in his shoulders began to ease.

“Was that… okay?” he asked, his nervous smile giving him away.

“It was more than okay.” You reached out, your fingers lightly grazing the back of his hand. “It was… how do you say? Ottimo?”

“Yeah, ottimo.” He chuckled, roaming your face, his eyes resting on your lips.

“Ottimo.” you echoed, trying to suppress a terrible fake italian accent coming through. “Did I do great?”

“Attagirl. Molto bene."

“Yeah… whatever this is.” you laughed, licking your own lips, umid on his taste. For the first time, it felt like all the waiting—all the second-guessing—had finally led you both to the right place.

He took a deep breath, like a weight he’d carried for years—maybe even decades—was finally lifted off his shoulders. He clicked his tongue, glancing around to check for any strangers or suspicious movement nearby. But there was nothing—just the warmth radiating from both your bodies.

“I feel like a hypocrite now,” you teased, his hand resting firmly on your hip, giving a gentle squeeze as you chuckled.

“How come?”

“Intimacy doesn’t seem so bad anymore,” you admitted, letting yourself get carried by the lightness of your laugh.

“Doesn’t seem bad at all.” His smile softened, shy as ever but now intertwined with something deeper. Everything you hadn’t said to each other—but that the whole world seemed to know—hung between you. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer before he finally spoke again. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

“Okay.”

The way he said it wasn’t just casual. It was a quiet promise—a subtle acknowledgment that something had shifted. And as you both started walking back to the car, it was clear: things wouldn’t be the same after tonight.

[amirawrah]

⭐︎ Healing looks like this

with MICHAEL OLISE⭐︎

synopsis: After getting injured during a match, Michael Olise is grumpy, restless, and hates being babied—by everyone except you. You turn into his personal nurse, from snacks and Netflix to hair twists and painted nails. He’s sulking with the world but melts the second you walk in. Because if anyone’s gonna baby him, it’s gotta be you. @muglermami

It happened fast.

One bad tackle, a twist of the knee, and suddenly Michael was on the pitch, flat on his back, jaw clenched and pain written across his usually unreadable face. You were watching from home, phone already halfway to your ear before the medics even reached him.

The next few hours were a blur—MRIs, the club doctor saying something about a few weeks out, maybe more depending on how rehab went. Michael didn’t say much. He never really did. But you could see the frustration brewing beneath the surface.

He hated this. The attention, the fuss, the idea of being stuck in one place.

And he especially hated being babied.

Well… by everyone except you.

You showed up to his house that night, already knowing he’d refuse help if it came with pity. So you didn’t pity him.

You kissed his forehead, plopped a bag of snacks on the couch, and said, “Hi, I’m your nurse for the next two weeks. No refunds.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re injured,” you replied sweetly. “So shut up and eat these apple slices I cut into hearts.”

That earned you a tiny smile.

It became a routine.

You came by every day after work, sometimes before. He’d pretend he was fine, but the second he saw you, he visibly softened. His brows relaxed. His shoulders dropped. He’d never admit it out loud, but the sound of your keys jingling at the door? Comfort.

You set him up on the couch like a king. Blankets. Pillows. The remote always within reach. His favorite lemon-lime sports drink in the fridge. You’d scroll Netflix while he leaned back, leg elevated, head tipped toward you.

He’d grumble whenever anyone else checked on him. His teammates? “Too loud.” Physios? “Too nosy.” Nutritionist bringing food? “I said I didn’t want that.”

But when you walked in?

“Hey,” he’d mumble, voice low and warm.

“Hey, baby,” you’d smile back, setting down your tote bag. “Pain level?”

“Less when you’re here.”

You’d roll your eyes, even as you smiled.

One lazy afternoon, you sat on the floor between his legs, twisting his locs while a nature doc played quietly in the background. He was nearly asleep, head tilted, lips slightly parted.

“You’re good at this,” he murmured.

“What, twisting hair or tolerating your grumpiness?”

“Both.”

You smirked. “You like when I baby you. Just admit it.”

He scoffed. “I don’t.”

“You literally pouted when I was ten minutes late yesterday.”

“I didn’t pout.”

“You did. Even the doorman said so.”

Silence.

Then

“…Maybe.”

Later that week, you caught him staring at your nails—freshly painted burgundy.

“You want me to do yours?” you joked.

He shrugged. “Kinda bored, innit.”

And that’s how you ended up painting Michael Olise’s nails. He sat still, legs stretched out, a bowl of popcorn in his lap while you carefully brushed his nails.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said when you were done.

“Michael, you literally let me paint little stars on your ring fingers.”

“Still. Don’t.”

But he didn’t stop you when you took a picture of his hand next to yours. And when you posted it on your story—no tags, no faces, just the two sets of matching nails—he reshared it to his close friends.

The injury sucked. Rehab sucked. Not playing sucked.

But having you?

The late nights, the snacks, the hair-twisting, the quiet giggles, the way you kissed his temple after icing his knee, the way you always knew exactly what he needed before he even asked?

That made everything softer. Lighter.

Easier.

You weren’t just his nurse.

You were his peace.

One night, he pulled you into his chest while the credits of Shrek 2 rolled.

“You know I’d let you do this even if I wasn’t injured, right?”

You blinked. “Do what?”

“This. All of it.” He kissed your hair. “I like being babied by you.”

You smiled into his hoodie.

“Good. ’Cause I’m never clocking out.”

And he held you tighter, thinking— Yeah. I hope you never do.

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Twisted Wonderland Boys x Fem Reader in their respective Fairytales (Series)

Leona's Part

Previous Part (Riddle)

─────❅───── A/n: I might have butchered Leona, I'm so sorry :(

Content Warning: This Fic will be tagged as 16+ since it is a bit suggestive along with mentions of Gorey themes (Azul), it’s very vague. I haven’t finished Book 6 and Book 7 because I’m stuck in Tartarus, but they’re not done here yet. Riddle (Suggestive Themes), Leona (Cussing, Blood mention), Azul (Obsession, Manipulation, Cussing once, Potential Cannibalism? (He eats merpeople who are turned into Polyps). The reason for potential OOC was cause I mixed both the classic Villains with the personality of our beloved boys

Due to the Tumblr Limit, Each one will be divided unfortunately, hopefully, it's an easy navigation for all of you!

─────❅─────

First Batch would be: Riddle, Leona, Azul Second Batch would be: Kalim, Idia, Malleus

List of Villains interconnecting with each character:

Riddle = Queen of Hearts

Leona = Scar

Azul = Ursula

─────❅─────

Leona:

It’s hot, you thought to yourself, sweating bullets as if you were in the middle of a savanna, which, unfortunately, you were. Looking around; you only noticed a small cave that was a few feet away from you.

You could go there just by walking so without a doubt, you made your way to it, the closer you were the bigger the cave got, fanning yourself, you immediately went inside, sighing in relief as you felt cold water dripping to your forehead, it might be a wet pit cave. You were going to step further when you felt something squish beneath your feet.

“Urghk” a grunt was heard, causing you to jump back in surprise, the perfectly camouflaged man stirred up, sitting as he placed his tail on his lap, rubbing the part you stepped on. “Fuck, what the hell is a prey doing here?” snarling as he opened his eyes, piercing into your figure like he wanted to devour you here and there. “You’re lucky that I’m too lazy to eat you” he continued, sounding annoyed, standing up, he grabbed the collar of your shirt, pulling you roughly near to his face so that he could examine you better.

“You really are a prey,” he said amusedly, while you froze, not from fear, maybe a bit of that but also from surprise, Leona, your lover, was standing infront of you shirtless, with only just his pants, since when was he this bold?

“Leona!” you squeaked, covering your eyes to shy yourself away from the lion, who looked lost. “What?” he asked, crossing his arms, he found you looking like an idiot, covering your eyes like that, but instead of getting irritated, he found himself intrigued by how stupid the situation was.

“Put on some clothes please” you muttered, still not glancing at him, okay that was ridiculous, he grabbed your collar once again forcing you to look at him, “What kind of idiot would get flushed over a body?” he asked, after all, in this land, almost every beastmen and beastwomen were half naked, or fully naked, so why are you flustered? Huh, now examining your outfit, you didn’t seem to be a beast type.

"Hm," he murmured, pulling away to maintain a safe distance. "A human in the territory of beasts." He glanced lazily behind you, checking if you bought any of your herbivore friends with you. Finding none, he couldn't decide if you were bold or simply foolish. With a slight laugh, he added "You're bold. I'm surprised you weren't mauled and served as today's dinner on your way here."

“What does that mean?” you pouted, Leona somehow senses a feeling of familiarity in it, so he grabbed your hand, dragging you to his lair further as he sat down, placing you beside him, he draped himself on you.

Yeah, this feels familiar, he thought to himself, laying on your plush thighs, you didn’t even push him away automatically brushing your fingers in his hair. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here Prey,” he asked, eyes closing as he feasted on your affection.

“Yeah, I just happen to be here” you replied shortly, you didn’t really know what to say, this guy might not even be Leona, maybe he’s an evil counterpart, but the thing is he seemed to be fond of you, so what’s the difference? Was it the fact that the scar on his eye was bigger? Or the fact that he was littered with tattoos, unlike your Leona? The black ink spreading all over his arms to his back and neck was pretty, it suits him.

“When I take the throne, I’ll make you my little mouse,” he said so casually which caused you to stiffen. “Take the throne?” you asked as your fingers nimbly pushed the hair back that was covering his face, the moment he opened his eyes you saw the determination in his usually bored eyes.

“I will be king someday,” he said, grabbing your wrist you felt him pull it to his lips as he nuzzled it, so uncharacteristic of him, however, you’re not even sure who he is, so maybe not.

Pain suddenly surrounds your wrist, squeaking when Leona bit your wrist, letting the blood drip into his mouth; that hurt, you tried to pull your hand away but his grab on you was firm.

“I’ll be ten times the king Farena and his little brat will ever be” he stated, letting your wrist go when he saw the look you gave, fear, it suits you.

Yeah, He’s decided, the way you react, the way you stare at him with both love and fear. He’s going to keep you.   I’m sure you knew what he meant when he said he would take the throne right?

Azul Part one

[tokkiiecloud]

It’s hot outside so get hit by this bus take whv this is (Also don’t mind my writing, I ain’t no writer I have written a few fanfictions here and there soo..yeah)

WHB : it’s summer and it’s hot / Beach dates :

Characters : gn!reader ; Belphegor ; Bael ; Gamigin ; ppyong (Juno p) +angel : Raphael

CW : Sweating ; OOC

Belphegor :

this dude just sleeps through the heat

He’s inside with the air conditioner on

You just came back from a small trip in town with Agares and Vassago, and directly joined Belphegor who was sleeping in his room, you were drenched in sweat because of the FUCKING HOT AIR OUTSIDE and you were too lazy to go shower and change into a pair of fresh and cool clothes(he rubbed off on you)

You collapsed on the bed where Belphegor was sleeping, when he felt something that resembled a wet rat, he had to wake up from the discomfort, when he saw it was you he pushed you off the bed :

“WT- BELPHI?! THIS HURTS!” You yelled at him, he ignored you and went back to sleep, you were forced to take a shower and change when you came back he finally used you as a pillow.

Bael :

This man works through the heat (ac broken)

Collapsed bcs of the heat after waking up he started working again.

You walked inside of Bael’s office, he was still working despite when entering you could feel the unbearable heat, you started sweating profusely how could Bael work in this environment??

He smelt you’re sweats and looked at you giving a weak smile, he was close to collapsing, alerted, you quickly went to him and grabbed his face worry in your eyes :

“Bael?! Your office is like an oven?!” You said worried, he just looked at you and apologized

“Sorry..the ac is actually broken but I’m used to the heat do not worry about me, go somewhere where the ac is on-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence before you dragged him out of the room, he wasn’t able to fight back because of his brain being turned to mush because of the heat.

After dragging him to a random chamber placing him onto the bed, making him drink some water, changing him into more comfortable clothes and going into the bed to cuddle with him.

He smiled softly before kissing your forehead and letting himself be taken care of by you.(Bael my beloved)

Gamigin :

He’s very worried about you staying hydrated

“Please don’t go outside too much”

Paradise lost, for some reason is not that hot?? But Gamigin still worries a lot about you he heard from Lucifer that human’s can’t withstand too much heat so he’s constantly checking on you, giving you water to keep you hydrated!

Ppyong (Juno p) :

Spends his day at the beach to be able to cool himself in the water

Listens to Avril Lavigne while swimming

He begged MC to go to the beach with him so he could spend some alone time together! Drinking wine together, watching the sunset together, swimming, his perfect idea for a date! Sadly he can’t hang out because the others will tag along…

At least he got a kiss on the forehead for the cute idea! It was worth it :

“Ppyong, I mean Juno, this is a very cute idea! Let’s do this next time!”

He giggles as you kiss his forehead, his smile is super bright almost blinding you more than the sun

Raphael :

Doesn’t give a flying fck at the heat

Has tried to kiss you while watching the sunset and will continue to try when he can

Interestingly, you found Raphael at the beach while hanging out with the devils of Gehenna and when he saw you…He took you away from them so for the rest of the day you spent you’re time with him

It was fun! You had a really good and goofy time with him he was still acting high and mighty but he was softer than usual until the sun started to set, both of you were sitting down on the golden sand :

“The sunset is beautiful..all those golden and pinkish mixed with a hint of blue create such a unique and ethereal look…”

He looks at you, eyes sparkling, he smiles at you as he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, extremely gently as if he was handling a crystal glass :

“You know what else is beautiful and ethereal?” He looks deep into your eyes, leaning in closer to your face, when suddenly a bunch of demons intervened and brutally ended the sweet moment by starting a fight after the fight Raphael left but not without saying one last thing :

“Our moment was interrupted but we’ll have time to continue it some time later. See you dear” he smirks and flies away.

It’s donneeee!! YAYY! Don’t mind it going from weird /goofy or cringe ?? To sweet, I couldn’t stop myself from writing about them I just had too before the fandom completely dies you know?? So every time I get an idea I’ll write it!! :3

[mapsthewanderer]

Caleb takes you sport climbing

Details: 1300ish words of Caleb being supportive, athletic, and absolutely drenched in sexual tension. Fun fact: I do sport climbing, so this one’s got a special place in my heart (and maybe my delusions).

Tags: @gavin3469 (I think you’ll like this heeh)

Belaying

The climbing gym is quiet this early in the morning, all soft rubber and the dry tang of chalk dust in the air. The towering walls loom above you, speckled with plastic holds like colorful constellations. Caleb walks beside you, the climbing rope slung around his neck like a lazy scarf, coiled in loops that sway against his chest with each step. His sleeveless shirt clings to his torso, arms bare and dusted with a few faint white smudges—chalk or dried sweat, maybe both.

He’s already smirking.

“We’re doing lead climbing today,” he says, his voice low and smooth, with that teasing lilt you know too well. “You’ve got the legs for it. Strong hips. Good balance.”

Then, that smirk.

“And before you ask—no,” he adds, looping the rope once around his fingers, “I’m not helping you cheat gravity this time. Last time I practically hauled you up the wall.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off with a raised brow.

“This time, you’re climbing for real,” he says, stepping a little closer. “And if you fall…” His eyes flick to your lips, lingering. “You fall for me.”

That grin. That infuriating, perfect grin. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

You shoot him a look, half protest, half flustered, but he’s already crouched in front of the rental shelf, scanning for your size.

“First rule,” Caleb says, holding up a pair of aggressively snug shoes, “a good climber sacrifices their comfort. These’ll curl your toes just right.”

You take the shoes from him and pull them on, grimacing as your feet cram inside. He watches you test your stance on the mat, your toes pressing the edge of a thin hold.

“Perfect,” he says with quiet satisfaction.

Then comes the harness. Caleb picks it up from his own pack—sleek, a deep slate gray. He holds it open and nods for you to step in. His hands are warm as he guides the straps around your thighs, up your hips, and then tightens the waist belt with a single, fluid motion that makes the padded webbing cinch against your lower belly.

“Lift your arms for me,” he murmurs.

You do. He fastens the buckle, fingers brushing too slowly along your sides. Then he crouches slightly, hands on your hips as he adjusts the straps down along your thighs. A beat. Then another. He runs his palms over the harness, checking the fit.

“Turn,” he says.

You hesitate, but obey, and feel the featherlight graze of his hand across your bum—calculated and slow. “Straps sit just right,” he murmurs behind you. “Nice and snug.” He steps back with a flicker of a grin that curls his lip, and you suddenly can’t tell if it’s the chalk in the air or the tension between your legs making your pulse spike.

Caleb lifts the rope from his neck and tosses it down with a soft thud. You watch as he crouches again, fluid and focused, pulling the line toward you.

“Time for your knot,” Caleb says, his voice a little rougher now, the teasing laced with something deeper. He crouches in front of you, tugging the end of the rope toward your harness with practiced ease. You watch as he begins threading it through your tie-in loops, his knuckles brushing just under your navel.

His face is so close.

You feel the warmth of his breath against your lower belly, and your muscles clench in response. He doesn’t move fast—no, every motion is slow, intentional. He doubles the rope back, eyes flicking up to yours for a split second before focusing again on the knot. He leans in closer as he loops the figure-eight, his jaw nearly grazing the waistband of your tights.

The rope slides through his fingers, and you feel the faintest brush of his cheek against your skin. It steals the breath from your lungs.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, voice low enough to be dangerous. His fingers cinch the knot tight, just below your hips, and the sudden pressure makes you gasp. “That’s how I know you’re not going anywhere.”

Then—just to make sure—you feel a sharp, possessive tug on the rope. It tugs the harness flush to your body, locking you in place.

He stands slowly, eyes dragging up your body like he’s memorizing every inch. “Now you’re mine,” he says, voice a whisper that coils straight into your core.

You swallow hard.

Then he turns to his own gear, clipping the assisted belay device onto his harness with a satisfying click. “Even if I let go,” he says, “you’re safe. This’ll catch you.” He runs the rope through the mechanism, the line stretching between the two of you like a lifeline. “Watch—locked here, carabiner through the hardpoints. Zero slack. Even if you fall—” he flicks the end of the rope toward you, showing you the backup knot tied tight as a last resort— “you’re not going anywhere.”

You glance down at your own gear, then up at him. Your tights hug your thighs; his arms flex slightly as he tugs on the brake line. Everything about him is steady. Strong.

And god, you feel so exposed under that gaze.

“The first three clips are where it matters most,” he says, stepping close again. “If you fall there, you fall into me.” He pauses, lowering his voice just a little more. “And I always catch what’s mine.”

You might be about to climb, but your knees are already weak.

Before you even move, Caleb steps in close again, pulling the strap of his own chalk bag through the loops at the back of your harness. “You’ll probably need this,” he says softly, and you feel the way he fastens it—low on your back, snug, hands brushing just enough to make your breath hitch.

He gives the buckle a quick tug, just tight enough to make you feel it. Then, he leans in and taps the bag once with two fingers.

“Look up,” he murmurs.

You do—and your gaze follows the route, hold by hold, all the way to the top of the wall. It seems impossibly far.

“Now,” Caleb says, voice right at your ear, “envision how you’ll move. Visualize every reach. Every shift of weight. Where you’ll place your feet. What you’ll grab with your right hand when your left starts to burn.”

His palm hovers just above the small of your back, not touching—but close. “Trust your body. It’s already stronger than you think.”

He waits until your breathing evens out, your focus narrowing.

Then he steps back, calm and sure, and coils the rope loosely through his brake. He’s already in position—thumb hooked lightly under the rope, hands raised, ready.

You reach back, dipping both hands into the chalk bag. The fine white powder coats your fingers, cool and dry, settling into the lines of your palms. You rub your hands together. Caleb watches. You feel it. His eyes on you, quiet and steady, as you shake out your arms once, then place your fingers on the first hold. And then—no more thinking. No more teasing. No more breathless tension.

You climb.

And somehow—you do it. The wall rises around you, each move a test of focus and fire, every muscle trembling with effort and adrenaline. “Clipping!” you call out at the first quickdraw, fingers fumbling slightly as you feed the rope through.

“Clipped,” Caleb’s voice answers from below, steady and sure. You glance down once—he’s locked in, rope perfect, arms up, gaze on you like a spotlight.

Second clip. “Clipping!” you call again, and this time your fingers are faster, the rope smooth in your grip.

“Got you,” he calls back, quieter now, focused.

By the third clip your body’s burning. Chalk smears your knuckles, and you can barely hear yourself say “Clipping!” over your own heartbeat. But Caleb’s voice cuts through it like rope through air.

“Safe.”

You keep going.

And when you finally slam your hand against the final hold, fingers burning, lungs raw—you hear it.

A low whistle from below. Then his voice.

“Look at you,” he calls up, voice warm and full of pride. “Told you those hips were made for this.”

You laugh—out of breath, high on the climb, high on him—and then let go, trusting him completely.

And he catches you.

The rope pulls snug, and in one fluid motion, Caleb lowers you down through the air like it’s nothing. When your feet touch the mat, you stumble just a little, but he’s already there, steadying you with one firm hand on your waist.

“I’m proud of you,” he says, low against your ear, voice rich. “You did great.”

“And you flashed a 5a. First try. No falls.” He lets out a quiet, impressed exhale, his hand sliding briefly, warmly across your lower back. “That’s not nothing.”

Your chest swells at the praise, but before you can say anything, he’s already slinging the rope off his shoulder, walking toward the exit.

“Oh,” he throws over his shoulder casually, “next time, I’m renting the whole hall. Just for us. No clothes. Just the harness.”

You blink, mouth parting.

“What?”

But he’s already striding off with that damn smirk, rope bouncing on his back, muscles flexing, and you have no idea if he’s joking or dead serious.

Writer’s note: My initial inspiration? The text you can trigger called Rock Climbing. My stomach dropped when I got it—because I’ve been sport climbing for 3 years (5c-ish level, nothing great), and suddenly the universe handed me the perfect fictional man to go on pretend dates with while I’m at the climbing gym. Like? Hello???

I cannot explain how stupidly hot he’d be climbing an 8b+ (French grade, obviously), because yes—of course he’s flashing those routes without acknowledging his gravity evol even exists. He’s just there like some long-lost brother of Adam Ondra (OG legend), casually rewriting physics while looking annoyingly good doing it. (Yea I think Caleb would climb like Adam Ondra, probably moaning just as much as he does lol).

And no, we don’t normally kneel when tying the knot… but I needed Caleb’s face to be, y’know—strategically lowered. Huhuhu. Creative liberties were taken. Also, yes—some of the dialogue is straight-up inside jokes from the climbing gym. We’re all weirdos. (Climbing nude would hurt like hell—do not try it. Unless, of course, friction burns in the crotch are your idea of a good time. No judgment.)

Update: Just have proofreading left on chapter four of Plated! Posting this weekend—maybe today, maybe Sunday, who knows?. Also, I’ve got a special lil something for all the bois simmering in my drafts, and I’ll be sharing that soon too. Love ya’ll—can’t wait to toss more chaos into the void! Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[httpscomorg]

Little Red

Summary: You're a little pissed off at one of your partners, but he of course, makes up for it.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Wade x Reader x Logan

Warnings: Mention of sex. That’s it really. Heavy foul language?

Word Count: 2004

(I don't check for grammar, I'm too lazy for that shite)

“They’re in my sights, I’m moving in.” You look down at him from above the dark bridge, gun trained on the enemy as Wade moves in, gun pointed in their direction as they search for both of you, and you grin, you had them cornered and they didn’t even know it.

“Wait…” You mumble, sweeping your gun over the area again. “I thought there was three…”

“Shit-“ Then you hear it, the gun as it shoots you right in the back, your gun powering down for the next 10 seconds.

Fucking laser tag.

“Haha, I got you!” Peter pokes your forehead, pushing your head back playfully before running off for the last five seconds you had left, waiting for your gun to power back up.

Were you winning? Absolutely. Were you having fun? Most definitely. Should you all be out on a mission right now? We don’t talk about that.

There’s arcade music as your gun powers back up, and you immediately go back into ‘Call of Duty mode,’ as you like to call it, treating it as if it was a real mission and you didn’t just get shot in the back.

Turning a corner you see a blue glow, that meant Wade was there, your other partner having left already claiming the game wasn’t fair to them. Just because they’re blind, doesn’t mean it’s impossible.

“One is in the back left corner of the room, I’ll get the two on the opposite bridge.” Wade tells you, crouch running to get to the other side, cause who really gives a fuck about no running rules in laser tag rooms? Once the gun is in your hand and the vest is strapped around your front, the rules no longer apply, it was every man, or woman, for themselves, and you took it pretty damned seriously.

You turn the corner, the end of your gun pointed ahead with only 12 seconds left on the little screen, and so you rush it, moving into a jog to get to the end, searching for Kurt, and finding Peter, shooting him straight in the side while he’s looking up at Wade, satisfied with the 10 second time out, that meant he was done about 7 seconds early, so you pass him, ignoring the stupid look of defeat he gives you. You always start, and end with the first and last shot, and you always win. Today would not be the day you lost. So with your gun at the ready, you spot Kurt, he’s got his gun trained up where Wade is, you can tell by the blue glow, and he was waiting for Wades vest to pop up, but you knew it wasn’t going to, so you get close enough for the gun to catch onto the sensors, and you pull the trigger, but it doesn’t push down, instead of the classic video game gun sound, there’s a power down button as the lights turn on, cancelling out the neon and black lights, a groan leaving your throat.

“Why didn’t you shoot me?” Kurt laughs, standing up and looking at Wade again who was now scaling his way down the bridge over to you, Kurt, Peter, and Jane. Scott had also left the room because he was scared of lasers.

“I thought I had enough time for a takedown!” You smile largely, Wade coming up from behind you and lifting you around the waist, waddling awkwardly as he walks you to the exit.

You get out, looking up at the scoreboard. As usual, flawless accuracy, and the most points, you sigh. Thank you Clint. The winning team? Well, Wade picking you up and twirling you like a princess is enough to answer that question, obviously the blue team won. Meaning 500 tickets would be sent into your wristband, and your team wouldn’t be able to play again for thirty more minutes.

“Who won?” Al comes up behind you smiling, holding the big stuffie that she wants to believe is a teddy bear, no one had the heart to tell her…

“Uh, who do you think won?” Wade wiggles his finger directly in front of Al’s face.

“Judging by your hot breath on my face regardless of the mask, I’m assuming you and little red won?” Little red. You love Wade, but God that nickname was getting to be a bit much.

“You’re just mad you couldn’t see.”

“Bitch I got more shots than you probably.”

“Which would be impressive if your kill to death ratio wasn’t seven to twenty three.”

“Girls, come on, the pizza should be ready, and Logan should be here any minute now.” You grab Wades gloved hand, and you gently guide Althea over to the table where Scott was sitting, a small cup of tickets on the table, and a large box of pizza, only two missing. But you weren’t hungry, you were just excited to see Logan.

“Face it, he’s not coming.” Jane nudges you, grabbing a slice for herself, but you were pretty dedicated to looking towards the door, hoping his grumpy ass would peek in at any minute now. But to no avail.

“After this, we should do the race track.” Wade points at Kurt with the tip of his pizza, the weird bastard was eating it crust first. As if Wade couldn’t get weirder.

“Ze race track?” Kurt lifts the two litre bottle of coke, pouring it into a styrofoam cup with some ice that was half melted as you look down at your watch. Logan should’ve been there by now, he promised he’d be there… Surely he didn’t forget. Right?

“Yea, I mean one of us is bound to beat little red in racing, right?” Wade chuckles, looking at you looking at the doors.

“Right? Little red?” You feel a hand on your shoulder and you throw on a smile. “You can’t be good at racing too.”

“Actually, Tony Stark taught me himself.” Is what you would’ve said, but you’ll pass on that for now, those are stories for another time. “Wade, I will kick all of your asses in racing… I could beat you all with my eyes closed.” He smiles.

“Wanna give that a try?”

“No, I wanna go outside for a moment…” You answer quickly, it sounded almost sarcastic, but by the way Wade's chest heaves up and down in a silent heavy sigh, you know he’s disappointed. You were completely reliant on Logan, but you couldn’t help it. That bitch saved your life. And he wouldn’t even show up to an arcade for you now. “I just need a breather…” Wade nods, letting you go, a pat on the shoulder for comfort.

“Well, we’re gonna go practice rounds with five year olds as a replacement, and maybe we can even get Al driving. I'd love to see what she looks like behind a wheel completely unaware of another car in front of her.” You chuckle dryly, taking a step back.

“I’ll be right there, I promise.” You mumble the promise, stepping out of the large arcade and you go over to your truck, climbing into the bed and then onto the roof, sitting with your legs crossed as you open your phone, first checking Logan’s location, which as usual, was turned off. So you call him.

It rings.

And rings.

And rings.

And guess what?

It fucking rings.

You groan, opening your texts with him, the last one he sent being, “I’ll be there baby, I promise. Tell Wade I love him too.” Which makes you feel a wave of hurt just stroke through your body.

You call the number again for some reason. And it rings, and rings. Then it doesn’t.

“What the fuck?” Did this motherfucker just decline my call? Who the fuck does he think he is? You call back, and this time it only rings once before it’s sent straight back to voicemail. So again, you call, same thing. So you call again and again until you’re sure his voice box would be full of frustrated grumbles and groans from your side. “You motherfucking bitch…” Is what’s in the last voicemail until you open your camera app. Only to discover a fucking wall.

And that was it.

You hop off the roof of your truck, opening the door and starting the engine, letting it roar to life despite the snow as you buckle up quickly and swing out of the parking lot. You were not letting this motherfucker ignore you.

You take a sharp turn, speeding down the roads when you could, the little sticker on the back of your licence plate a warning for police not to pull you over.

“What the fuck could this ancient piece of art be possibly hiding from me?” You start yelling at nothing, wishing Wade was sitting next to you. “You save the fucking world with someone and you think you know a guy… especially one that’s been fucking inside of you.” You’re talking to the snow on your windshield now. You knew you’d get attached when you agreed to being in a relationship with Wade and Logan. You’re latched onto the two unkillable fucks like a leech, and until they see you when you’re out of your prime, you weren’t going anywhere, and they sure as hell weren’t gonna push you away. Especially not on the birthday that they all promised to be at. Which honestly, if it was just you, Wade, and Logan, you would’ve been completely satisfied. But with Logan missing, it just felt like a teenage hangout, Wade counting as a child.

You pull off the road, driving up the gravel quickly to the little cabin the three of you had put together, and you turn off the engine of the truck, throwing yourself out of the drivers seat, jamming the keys into the front door, and you push it slab of wood open, basically slamming it behind you before you freeze at the red coating the hardwood floor.

Rose petals…?

Your eyes squint in confusion. And you take another step inside. Red rose petals lead to the bedroom. Little fake candles lit up in the kitchen and living room. And you could barely hear two voices arguing with each other in the bedroom. Wade and Logan…

Logan…

Wade?

How the fuck-

Kurt…

You groan, taking slow and calculated steps towards the bedroom, you weren’t big on surprises, especially since on the other side of the wall there’s usually just a man with a gun.

But as soon as you step into the bedroom…

“Surprise!” Wade shouts, conferring thrown into the air, and there’s glitter flying at you, making you turn away but it just covers your clothes and the floor, not reaching your eyes, nose, or mouth.

Wade was standing in jeans and a pink polo now, his suit and mask kicked into the corner as if it was expertly hidden, and he even managed to get Logan to wear something else from his usual beater and jeans. He was now just wearing elmo pyjamas and a pink hoodie.

“Happy birthdayyy little red!” Wade sings, clapping his hands and running up to you for a hug, which you of course give him, sending a death glance towards Logan who just laughe, taking a few steps towards you.

“I know, I promised to go to the arcade, but baby I am more than two hundred years old, pac man isn’t exactly my thing…” He grabs your waist, wrapping one arm around you and smiling.

“So you set this up…?” He nods, and you feel Wade come up behind you.

“Figured we’d give you a break and let you relax while we take care of you…”

“It was my idea…” Wade chirps, and Logan growls. “Mostly my idea… the sex part was my idea…” His hands also rest on your waist, smiling against your neck as Logan stares down into your eyes.

“Happy birthday, little red…” He leans down, kissing you, and suddenly the nickname doesn’t seem all that bad.

[honeywyrdie]

Sangiovese Cellar {1}

Bang Chan x Reader

genre: slow burn, angst, eventual smut warnings: vampires, cults, blood, host clubs [[more tags to be added as story progresses]] {masterlist}

Synopsis: Being a brand new blood donor at the Sangiovese Cellar seems like your chance at a fresh start. At this exclusive vampire club, the undead guests are looking for some human entertainment, and donors are both the advertisement and the product. Seduction is the sale. You get a safe place to get away from your past, all of your earthly needs are cared for, and you have final say over any patron you interact with, what more could you want? The Cellar only asks for one thing - Your blood. But one of the new clients seems to have his eye on you specifically, and it makes your body burn in a way you’ve never felt before. What will happen when others start to take notice?

“Do you faint at the sight of blood?” 

Hyunjin asks as he leans in, crowding into your personal space. He holds a small lancet as his fingers grasp your hand, palm facing up.

You scoff. 

“No, I’m not squeamish about blood. I’ve had my blood drawn thousands of times,” you say.

“Just checking,” he smirks. “One can never be too careful with you little Soltersa defectors. I once had a Soltist boy sob into my best silk shirt when I barely poked him. I had to hold him down to get even a droplet.”

Soltist? Your brow furrows in confusion.

“Don’t listen to him, Y/n,” Rhae says, watching as your expression hardens. “That’s what the outsiders like to call us. Hyunjin just likes to be overdramatic when it comes to blood.”

Hyunjin gasps in mock offense, eyes sparkling with his smoked out makeup. “How dare you, I’d never misbehave with blood!”

At that, he pulls your palm toward him and places the lancet against the pad of your index finger. He looks at you, and it’s like the room disappears. The moment is suspended in the air, there’s a lurch in your stomach, like jumping high on a trampoline before gravity pulls you back down. The playfulness in Hyunijn’s eyes is replaced with a genuine curiosity. 

“Ready?”

You nod, closing your eyes. 

The needle pierces your skin quickly. You suck air through your teeth as you wince at the sensation. All the nerve endings in your finger sear with such a precise pain.

- better to spill your blood for Sol than to cast it willingly into the mouths of the lifeless.

The remnant of an old litany surfaces in your mind as the lancet meets your skin. During your training as a child, you dealt with plenty of cuts and scrapes, so you’re no stranger to pain. Yet this small prick of the finger makes your eyes water at your own defiance to what you had drilled into your head.

It’s over as soon as it started. When you finally open your eyes, Hyunjin is pressing your finger hard, making a small droplet well up on the skin. The way you’re holding your hand looks like you’re showing off a small garnet balancing perfectly on your fingertip. 

“Now spread it on your wrist, right on your pulse,” he says. “Then, we’ll spray you with one of my perfumes. It drives the bloodsuckers absolutely batshit. They will probably drink you dry right on the main floor!”

He leans forward and clacks his teeth together, as if he’s trying to bite you. 

“W-what?” you say, voice wavering as worry trickles into your chest. They had told you you’d be safe around the clientele at the Cellar, that they weren’t like the horrible monsters you had heard about all your life. 

“Hyunjin!” Rhae says, smacking his shoulder. “Be gentle, she’s barely gotten comfortable here!”

“Relax Y/n, I’m only teasing,” he says, a lazy smile growing on his plump lips. He flits over to his vanity to grab one of his scents from the shelf. “The blood and perfume trick is to give them the smallest hint of a sample so they decide to buy your stock, but not enough to send the more sensitive clientele into a frenzy. It is way more effective than the blood typing cards we hand out. Why do you think I’m one of the most requested donors?”

“Hyunjin, how is it helpful to give our newest donor a panic attack right before her first night on the main floor?” Rhae says, patting your shoulder. You’re glad to have her so close. She’s the one link in this chain connecting your Soltersa past with your present, the one source of comfort for such a chaotic shift in your life.

“I’m okay, I’m just feeling a little jittery is all,” you murmur, looking down at the droplet of blood. You watch as the bead perched on your finger starts to drip slowly down. Before you think about it for too long, you smear it on your wrist, patting the coagulating blood into your skin. It leaves a sheer tint of red on your skin.

“Perfect,” Hyunjin says, spritzing you with a scent from a perfume bottle. It’s a deep red crystal in a teardrop shape, the smell reminds you of the spice of harvest season and the citrus smell of the groves you grew up in. Hyunjin instructs you to press your wrists together, stamping the scent mixed with that one drop of blood on both pulse points. 

“Now… let’s go show off the fresh meat.”

~~~

author's note: Finally writing about one of my favorite things in the world - vampires! I've been cooking this story up for quite a few months now, it's been the one source of dopamine I cling to like a life raft while I'm getting through grad school. This will be a long form story, slow burn romance, and it will DEFINITELY be smutty down the line. Have patience my little hemoglobins, I promise to feed you well. 💘

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I have only posted this here and on AO3- user: honeywyrdie