#was obvious enough not to need explanation

[hoofpeet]

?trying to make any art guide / explanation is like. trying to navigate the worry that I'm autistically overexplaining things & account for it means that I go back & forth on how far to break things down while putting a guide together in case it comes off as insulting to belabor the point in some way... & that combined with crippling self doubt making me second guess basic anatomy ends up with me struggling to articulate a drawing tip for an hour before getting overwhelmed by the feeling that I'm just loudly pulling nonsense out of my ass while calling it realistic anatomy/physics/whatever... And/or the feeling that I'm unknowingly a good 5 steps behind everyone else and explaining basic anatomical concepts that most people have already figured out & consider obvious enough as to not even feel the need to explain ... I think in general it's not even possible for me to feel confident enough in my knowledge of something to feel like i have the right to explain it ...... Really hard to not add as many refs & sources as I can just to reassure MYSELF that I'm not confidently & stupidly spreading misinformation .. IDK tl;dr I'd like to make more guides [specifically on drawing bipedal unguligrade legs] but i think at some point in the process of compiling a guide it starts to feel more like I'm explaining myself to a judge or something ... #sawtrap

[deiaiko]

#21 - Wall

Masterlist

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☕ Buy me coffee ☕

[soviet-siscon]

Maybe not something I should need to say and I get that it's intended as fun and games but I really do not appreciate jokes/speculation about my sexuality thank you. you can keep that to yourself even if it is just a joke.

[galacticlamps]

actually ascension needs its own post since that's the one with the most details to speculate over and im starved for soho talk so i will talk to myself if need be

First the cover again, because I kinda can't get over it:

my only thing is that I had been hoping we might get Lizbeth on a cover again since she's never been on one of the boxsets before, despite being the 2nd person credited on all 4 of them (even if that's just alphabetical, still, she's the only one of the four main characters who never makes the cover)

But letting that go...

I know we already kinda knew the brief for this one but damn I didn't expect it to go quite this hard. Maybe that's just because the Parasite & Ashenden covers were (comparatively) similarish to each other and I was so pleased with Unbegotten's, and then got so used to it as the placeholder for Ascension while they kept postponing it, I wasn't expecting anything this colorful or detailed or with what I can't help but register as Fun New Outfits even though these are still like, pretty damn basic as far as costumes go. Still, it's a different vibe from everyone in suits and trenchcoats on every cover, technically. (Oh the woes of being an audio fan such that two characters owning sweaters actually does qualify as new information)

On top of just being visually delightful though, I know we knew religion was gonna be a fairly big part of this one, but I didn't actually expect to get quite this much of it - though I'm glad of it for a number of reasons. The BF twitter already made the ineffable joke so I don't have to, but also yeah I did very much spend all of season 2 episode 4 of good omens half convinced Samuel Barnett & Dervla Kirwan were about to pop up around any given corner (if you will go around being gay supernatural and horrible at your messy bureaucratic jobs in midcentury soho then I'm sorry, this is where my brain's gonna go) - so, fuel to that fire. But in terms of actual important things, at least one of my Soho wishes looks to be being granted because we have a Rev Edward Folgate on the cast list, which must mean we're finally meeting Norton's father, even if his mother & brother don't appear (which they could, technically, I've definitely seen BF not list all the doublings on their cast tabs before). Religion, domesticity, and the nuclear family are all things that absolutely fascinate me when it comes to Norton's character, so getting any amount of story involving his father & his church is something I've been actively hoping for for a long time now.

(I will say I'm a tiny bit bummed Saffron Coomber isn't on the cast list to play Mia again, but I kinda figured she wasn't going to be since Greg Austin's Armitage, who's making his first recurring appearance after originating in Unbegotten, was listed ever since the boxset was announced - presumably if she was also returning, that would've been handled in the same way. But since Unbegotten ended with Lizbeth and Mia going on a date, I still held out hope. Who knows though, maybe things did go well for them and Lizbeth just has a better work/life balance than Norton so she can date someone without them getting dragged into every scifi plot. I know that's not a very common accomplishment for any Torchwood agent, but a gal can hope)

At this point I know I'm completely in the realm of speculation & even wishful thinking, but I'm really really hoping we get some more clues as to Norton's overall timeline in this one, and I have a feeling that even if there's nothing as direct as dates given, the events of a plot like this one are going to heavily influence my personal interpretation of it.

To say that life & death are major themes for the soho crew feels wildly reductive, but even by Torchwood's standards and taking into account its origins as a piece of media with Jack Harkness & his newfound immortality at the heart of it, the living/dead status of this bunch has always been fantastically up in the air to me. Obviously Ghost Mission introduced Norton as kind of a ghost before revealing more obvious ghostly characters later on to which the title might have been referring, but his being from the past did beg the question of his survival into Torchwood's present era all the same, which Outbreak later alludes to much more directly, and his habit of showing up via hologram in multiple stories only further obfuscates any certainty we might have about where & when he definitely can be said to be alive and well. Then you've got Lizbeth and Gideon both being effectively 'brought back to life' via paradoxes that prevented them ever having died in the first place. Again, they are very very far from being the only Torcwhood characters this happens to (for a sprawling EU, it's really rather impressive how often & in how many different ways Torchwood as a whole manages to circle back to being about like. chaotic undead queers at the end of every day. though I suppose that consistency is part of why I keep falling in love with its different iterations again and again). That's without even getting into the question of Norton's dubious fate in God Among Us - and I say dubious because I know some people take that to be his ultimate death, but I personally think that reading something as vague as that as having any kind of finality rather goes against the spirit of this whole world/series, not just because I want him to live. (There are obviously other ways to make him survive/reappear, but I don't see this as a River Song scenario where we can safely assume one of his earlier-released adventures had to happen at the end of his personal timeline). But wherever God Among Us falls for him, he does very much meet God in it - or at least, a god, since the sentinel in Unbegotten is also described as a god of sorts, and even if he doesn't ultimately have the status of the god Jacqueline King is playing there, Unbegotten is still full to bursting with ghosts/undead/came back wrong/echo characters to continue underscoring that life/afterlife theme.

So all things considered, even allowing for the fact that we know Norton's twin hobbies are lying about himself and abusing time travel to suit his own ends/ever-shifting alliances, I find it difficult to believe we could get through a whole 6-part boxset about religion & death without something providing some kind of compelling evidence about where this adventure fits in among his other run-ins with apocalypses and gods and ghosts and dead-but-still-here characters/creatures, so I'm very much looking forward to any further exploration on that front.

And lastly, and least intellectually, I really want to know what the hell 20th-century Torchwood's obsession with Reginalds is. Reading through the cast list, I had to do two separate doubletakes over the character 'Sir Reginald Peebles' - firstly, because I had Reginald Rigsby on the brain, this being Soho (and the other Troughton brother being so active on BF's releases for this same month) - and secondly, because reading this in conjunction with the announcement for the July monthly adventure in which the new main Torchwood guy of the 20s is apparently called Sir Reginald Dellafield, there was a brief moment where I took that monthly release to be a tie-in with Ascension. I don't expect it to be, but damn. was it really so popular a name?

anyways, catch me thinking about those stained glass windows for the next couple months I guess (and knowing Torchwood Soho, for a long long time after it comes out as well lol)

[ohitslen]

OOOOH CHAPTER THREE IS UP!! ✨✨✨

In today’s chapter of “Easy to care, easy to love ” we have first impressions! Perpetually confused Vash and Woowoo! And oh is someone already getting a little smitten?? Read to find out! 💖

[riddlesrose]

kissin him stupid

w/ the housewardens

in which you were recently gifted a tube of lipstick from grim, you're unsure of where he got it or why he decided it's yours now but it's given you a fantastic idea.

(he probably stole it from vil somehow and wants to place the blame on you..)

note; malleus' is the shortest but the most full of love i swear to goooood but the post itself is quite long

part two!

if riddle could form a proper sentence right now, he might scold you for slacking off, or breaking rule six hundred and seventeen, or he may just ask you to do it again. if colours could speak, his face would scream in comparison to the red accents in the housewarden’s room, uniform and matching hair. 

you attempt to keep a sober expression but he seriously cannot be so flustered by a single kiss? the red lip stain on his cheek is bright against the flush of his cheeks, as he sputters vowels and consonants, attempting to speak, to protest, to ask you what in the queen’s name are you doing.

you invited riddle over to the ramshackle dorm under the guise of needing help with studying, but you had this motive the entire time. riddle could feel your rebel to his help and directions if he ignored the obvious fact you hadn’t even cracked the spine of your book yet (to be fair it was only assigned today, and it was a new book), and the devious smile you attempted to hide until now. 

riddle took a breath, finally feeling sensible enough, “what… was that.” 

“affection, riddle. this isn’t new.” you shot, tone dripping in sarcasm. 

“yes, my rose, i know that. i mean,” he grabs hold of your uniform tie, drawing you closer, “what’s with the lipstick?” your head probably could have exploded, where did this riddle come from and how can he be drawn out more often?

you press a swift kiss to riddle’s other cheek, thanks to the proximity. “i have no explanation,” you press another kiss onto his forehead, “i simply was gifted it,” a kiss to his temple, “this morning.” the grip riddle has on your tie loosens completely as it falls back onto your chest, slightly wrinkled from the force. 

“i just had this ironed!” you frown. 

“i-i’ll get it done again.” riddle stands, brushing invisible dust off his jacket, though nothing could distract from the shade of pink that covers his face. 

“you’ll iron my tie for me? how kind.” you wrap an arm around riddle’s waist, pulling him close. he drops his forehead against your chest with a thud, inaudibly mumbling to himself. 

you wrap your other arm around him as he takes your face between his hands, slightly squishing into your cheeks he drags your face to his height, kissing you feverishly. 

“where did this riddle come from? i like him.” 

“i just felt… bold i suppose.” riddle’s red tinted lips smile against yours.

“do it again!”

leona stirs underneath you. you’re sat, straddling either side of his hips, weight pressed on his defined torso. leona doesn’t know it but you’ve practically trapped him where he sleeps. where he’s asleep currently, that is. in your dorm. 

on your couch.

using your pillows, taking in the setting sun like a true feline, though you would never dare utter the word feline anywhere near him lest you face the wrath of a moody boyfriend. 

you silently laugh to yourself, leaning down and pressing your lips on the prince’s temple.

leona stirs again at that, attempting to roll over – he cracks an eye when you gasp. slowly, coming to his senses, he furrows his brows at your positioning. you weren’t there when he fell asleep, when did you do that, and why are you sitting on him with half of a sinister smile across your lips…

and when did your lips turn red? he brings a hand up to rub his face, trying to shake the sleep out of his fogged mind, but you catch his hand before it makes contant. 

“don’t, it’ll mess up all my hard work,” you say with a half hint of embarrassment. (just a hint; only because you were caught before you could slip away undiscovered.)

leona’s confusion increases, as he detaches your hand from his wrist. he takes his freed hand up to your lips and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, smudging it further across the line of your lip.

he inspects his red finger, “is this… lipstick?” you purse your lips in an attempt to stifle the laugh that bubbles in your chest. he looks ridiculous; eyes half lidded, nose crunched in focus and red marks painting his face.

your tinted lips curl upwards slightly into a smug grin, “maybe?” if leona knows one thing, it’s smug grins. he matches yours and wipes his thumb on your cheek, smearing the lipstick off his thumb and onto your skin. 

you playfully swat his hand away and lean down to continue painting your masterpiece, placing another kiss on his skin – onto the spot between his eyebrows. leona’s hand find your hip, giving a teasing pinch to the side. 

leona may be a prince used to some pampering, but this is some treatment he could get used to. 

azul has a finger in every pie, as riddle likes to say. you’re very much aware of that as your boyfriend likes to talk your ear off about his investments, new opportunities and the lounge. you’re so very proud of all of his hard work but sometimes he gets off on a tangent that doesn’t stop until you make him. usually with a kiss. it flusters him just enough that he forgets what he was going on about and it works every time. 

this time, however, was a bit different. azul didn’t take notice of the hue change of your lips as you leaned in and shut him up. drawing back, you snicker at his pursed lips and flushed cheeks, and the red lipstick smeared around his lips.

azul peeked in your direction, curious. you usually find it funny when he’s flustered like this but you were laughing a little too much. he noticed the messy red lipstick and furrowed his brows, wiping a finger across his lips. 

you suppressed a smile as you watched him curiously examine his stained finger, “it’s lipstick.” he concludes. 

“well… obviously? i thought that would have been pretty clear,” you grab his hand, wiping the red off of his finger. 

before azul can retort you lean in to kiss him again; anywhere you can get your lips on before he shells himself away, utterly embarrassed. a kiss to his cheek, jaw, forehead, nose, other cheek, forehead again, has him sputtering, almost begging to be released. 

azul places his free hand on your shoulder, trying to push you away while laughing between breaths. when you do back up, leaning back on your hand, he almost looks sad. (as if he wasn’t actively trying to get you off!) 

“so, mister ashengrotto? feeling loved and appreciated yet?” you give him a toothy grin, watching as his face contorts from flustered to even-more-flustered. (if that’s possible.)

“well yes! i dare say i’m feeling very valued and cherished as well.” despite his rosy features, his voice is unwavering, full of conviction. 

his confident, put-together outer layer completely melts away when you’re alone with him, but this has him absolutely on fire, a feeling no number could replace. numbers can’t give affection, you give it tenfold in their stead. 

kalim’s permanent grin widens when you claim you’ve got a gift for him. he expectantly holds out his hands, making you shake your head. 

“it’s more of an eyes closed kind of gift,” you start, kalim instantly squeezes his eyes shut. he puts so much trust in you that you worry jamil has eyes everywhere. everywhere. but you brush the jesting idea away, believing that you wouldn’t even be allowed on scarabia grounds if jamil didn’t trust you with the housewarden. 

you turn to a nearby mirror, passing the tube of red lipstick over your lips. the smooth makeup applies nice and neatly. (doesn’t matter because you know it won’t be neat for long.)

you step back over to where kalim’s sitting on the edge of his bed, standing between his knees. he’s waiting not-so patiently, he looks like he’s almost vibrating, is he really that excited? you suppress a smile as you gently grab onto his jaw, tilting his head to the side as you press your lips to his cheek. his laughter immediately fills the room, making you press more kisses over his face. one to his forehead, one on the nose, another on the other cheek, his temples, and anywhere you can get before he’s laughing too much, pushing you away.

“it tickles,” he heaves a breath, “stop!” a wider smile grows on his face after seeing yours, the red lipstick you applied had smudged around your lips, looking not-so neat. his face isn’t much better, tan skin littered in red kisses.

while you’re mentally retaining the image of kalim covered in red lip marks, you notice him looking more intently at you. you raise a brow, curiously.

“my turn, give it here!” he reaches a hand out, expecting the tube of lipstick?

you look at him bewildered, “what?” 

“my turn!” he repeats. he seems real set on returning the ‘gift’ it seems. kalim’s all smiles as you hand him the black tube. he exposes the stick and passes it over his own lips, tossing it aside and pulling you down to his seated height. he flattens his lips across the expanse of your face, getting at any skin he can just like you did to him. 

when he deems he’s finished, you’re dazed and equally covered in red lipstick stains, smiles wide across your faces. matching stained faces for matching blitheringly infatuated idiots.

vil leans on the back of his vanity chair; his face littered in different coloured lip marks. the reason? he claims he wants to see which ones compliment him the most. 

you know he already knows exactly which shades of each brand line do exactly that. (thanks, rook.) vil doesn’t know that you know he’s already figured this out. 

you wipe the makeup remover-soaked cotton pad across your lips, ridding it of the pink. “what would all of your fans think if they knew you were being covered completely in rainbow kisses?” you wipe the moisture from your lips as vil reaches around you to grab another tube, but you stop him. 

“i’m sure they would lose their minds,” you reach into your pocket, revealing a miscellaneous tube of lipstick, it matches none of the previously discarded lipsticks, nor does it have a brand logo on it. “where did you find this?” vil takes the lipstick in his hand, nimbly examining the exterior. he removes the top to reveal a rich, velvety red colour. his eyes widen just slightly. 

“it’s a secret,” you wink and take the lipstick from him and apply it, smiling as you replace its cap and let it fall from your hand, onto a messy vanity behind you. 

vil wraps an arm around your neck, drawing you closer to his seated level, “well, share your secret with me, if you would be so kind.” you swiftly close the gap between yourself and the housewarden, administering a healthy dose of red onto his lips and the surrounding skin. 

he parts first, his cheeks dawn a hint of pink that’s hidden behind the various stains on his otherwise perfect skin. he truly is the most beautiful person ever. makeup or not, hair tied back or loose, vil is sincerely as pretty as the morning's first light, a flower; freshly bloomed, and a fresh set of nails. 

“you’re staring. not that i mind,” you snap out of your hazy daydream about your gorgeous boyfriend and back into reality. 

“yeah, sorry. you’re just really fucking pretty.” you lean down and tenderly kiss his forehead as he internally squeals like one of his fan-girls. he really hit the jackpot with you as his (second) biggest fan.

idia looks up at you with wide yellow eyes, but they have a sort of gloss over them that makes you believe he would not want you to get up and leave his dorm right now. you grin at his feeble attempt of a silent, inconclusive plea. an ask to what, you’re unsure because his face (minus the eyes) and hands grabbing at you tell you he’s very much enjoying you straddling his hips right now.

you reach into your pocket, revealing your master plan. a tube of lipstick, you swipe it over your lips once, then twice before replacing the cap and tossing it down, letting it hit the plush bedsheet you’re atop. 

the translucent tips of his hair start to turn pink as you lean down towards his face. a trembling hand comes up to your shoulder, not pushing you away but seemingly grounding the housewarden underneath you. “how cute,” you smile against his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his left cheek, then the right. one more on his forehead for good measure. maybe one more. okay, one last one couldn’t hurt.

you sit upright and drag a hand down idia’s chest, over the sweater you know is probably two sizes to large for him, (but that’s how he likes them you suppose and it just makes for a more comfortable sweater when you steal ‘em) while admiring the definitely not smudge-proof lipstick marks on idia’s face, giggling as you compare the red smears to his blue features. you wonder if-

the rapid rise and fall of idia’s chest catches your attention, it almost sounds like he’s hyperventilating, but when you look up to his face it’s surrounded by fiery pink hair and a flush across his cheeks, spanning down his neck, you realize he’s fine. probably a little more than fine. 

“well, that’s some false advertising,” you smile, wiping at the edges of your lips lightly with a finger. idia snaps out of his stupor, hastily agreeing with a stuttered breath. his hands find your hips, giving you a small squeeze. you lean down and press a proper kiss to his lips, you lift away just as quick as you bent down, pushing idia back down as he chases you up, hoping for more. a pitiful whine escapes him as his hair burns brighter. 

the red lipstick mixes with his natural blue lips gives him a sort of purple that would put the octavinelle’s house colour to shame. though, he almost looks forlorn. the usual solemn and gloomy housewarden; reduced to a blushing mess after a few kisses. 

hilarious, isn’t it?

malleus’s eyes flutter shut, a pleased sigh escapes his lips. his hands, hidden by your sweater, trace messy patterns on your back as his nails scratch lightly. he’s unsure of how he got himself into this humanoid predicament but he’s not complaining. 

you’re sat in his lap, placing kisses all over his face, leaving red lip marks behind. 

“you look like you’re enjoying this more than i am, malleus.” you bring a hand up to rake it through his bangs, pushing them behind his horns and revealing the shiny scales hidden beneath. 

the housewarden cracks a sharp emerald eye, examining your features. the slope of your nose, the curve of your stained lips, your eyelashes, cheeks. your eyes. oh how he loves your eyes, the way they look up to him with adoration, not fear or indifference like other humans do. 

you cup his cheek, “malleus?” 

he blinks once, twice. the gloss over his eyes breaks, refocusing on you. “i apologize, i was lost in thought.” 

“i could tell,” you trace your finger to the tip of his ear, then drop your hand back into your lap. “what were you thinking of? me?” 

“yes.” 

“woah, okay. blunt!” heat rises to your face. 

a hand leaves your back, trailing around your side and up to tuck a piece of hair away from your eyes. “was i not suppose to tell the truth?” 

“no, malleus, you should have said you were thinking of pancakes.” 

“but i wasn’t? i was thinking of-” you cut him off, placing a kiss on his lips. 

“now, let me resume my art.”

malleus is more than happy to sit as still as the gargoyle statues he studies while you press kisses all over his face. he is, truly is.

this was so self indulgent i ain’t even sorry (is my favouritism showing??)

masterlist

[blueivyy99]

Calm and Serenity (Part 5)

Sylus x Non!MC

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

tags: angst, romance, hurt and comfort, confused sylus, non-mc reader, mentions of death/dying, cursing

taglist: @fknblsht @aboobie @nin10doo @ixloom819 @damatically @sylusgirlie7 @stellisangelicus-world @kira-loves0905 @wanderlustingcastaway @browneyedgirl22 @lumieresdreams @babygirl-panda19 @picnicinthegarden @96jnie @xxfaithlynxx @wrimaira @reni502 @lazypostfandomer @augustdxjiminx @hey-airam @vevlvtcherie @marquitas-en-verano @ma-cherie-lovely @zeskyzed @imnikki @shiorihoshino @mentaltrouble2201 @sylustoru @imaginarytheatre @seris-the-amious @zoyadarling @sanghyuksgasolinestationscream @young-adult-summer @iamawkwardandshy @r0ckb1n @openthenyoor01 @malleus-draconias-rose @syyyy4ever @yutterfly @xsammijoanneex @reni502 @animegamerfox @hao-ming-8 @angelicspaceprince @codedove @bxtchopolis @nommingonfood @esylwen @phisen @gojosbedwarmer @rubyninja1 @lemonn015 @cordidy @blueesmiski @yunhogrippers @sleepykittenenergy @thatsbunnysmind @lumi-s-garlic @splaterparty0-0 @soulaandshere @sillyfeeakfanparty (OMG I CAN'T TAG ANYMORE HELP)

note: one last part next. and a big thank you to the love on this series. y'all make me wanna cryyyyy 🥹🥹🥹

Masterlist

Sylus eyes flickered over the screen scanning every area in N109 Zone’s security cameras hoping in one of them he'll see you but for some reasons he can't.

The frustration is slowly creeping to his skin. He doesn't like the obvious fact that you left him with no explanation, that he is too late. That it took him long enough before giving you the assurance that you needed.

But most of all, he didn't like it that he inflicted such an amount of pain on you that you had to leave him quietly.

For every moment that passes without any news of you, Sylus can feel the anxiousness in him double in numbers. He won't stay still. He needs to find you now.

He grabbed his jacket and was about to get his keys when he heard footsteps approaching his directions.

He hoped that it was you. That you decided to finally come back and maybe hear him out. He quickened his steps but when he saw the red link on his wrists glowing, immediate disappointment consumed him.

“Sylus, I kept calling you but I was sent straight to voicemail," she said with a pout.

“MC, now is not a good time. Please take your leave." he coldly said.

It made her frown and he knew that she's not used to him saying no to her. But it had to be done. He didn't define a proper boundary before and now his life is a mess so even if it's late, he will do his best to straighten up his act.

Maybe if he did this the heavens would smile at him and make you go back to him.

“MC? I thought I'm Miss Hunter? Or Kitten? What happened? Did Mephisto throw that away by the window?"

He just stood there unmoving. Hearing her say that is an additional punch to the gut. Sylus didn't hide anything from you including this. And even if he can't control what he feels, he should've taken control of the things he says.

It's not right to call her those pet names when you exists and it must've been hell for you to hear that rolling off his tongue so naturally.

"I said leave.” he finally managed to get a word out of his mouth.

“Why? I thought we were spending time together to establish our connections? For us to get synced when using our evols?” She inquired with an obvious irritation in her face.

If it were before he lost you, he might have laughed and teased her about it and will add a little bit of sass to rile her up more.

But now? All he can think about is how insensitive he is. An asshole even.

No wonder she left.

No. He can't think like that. He needs you back and he will do everything to see you tonight.

Sylus took a deep breath. He can feel his brows twitching. Every second wasted here is a risk for your safety and what if you come back and see her? What would you think?

He doesn't know exactly why you left but he is not stupid to not know that it has something to do with Miss Hunter.

“I don't want to have any connections with you," Sylus answered.

“What do you mean?"

“See this link?" He asked and showed her his wrist.

“Yes. That connects us, right? You, me, grew from the same soil, kindred spirits like you said." She recounted their previous conversations.

“Good. Now I want us to get rid of it. I want you to get rid of it."

Sylus can see the gears in her head turning at every word he says. He knows he's asking for too much. She doesn't even remember cursing him but Sylus is desperate. He needs to find you and he needs this connection to finally be broken.

He can live without half his soul. He's been doing that for a while now, but he cannot live without you.

"Are you out of your mind?” She exclaimed, "I don't even know how we got tied together and now you want me to break it?”

Sylus is losing hope. He doesn't want her to remember. What's the point? It will hurt her, it will make all of this complicated … but he also needs to break free from this curse.

He will make this conversation quick. He needs to get this out of the way.

“Y/N is missing," he said. “She left me and I know it's because of my own stupidity, but it also has something to do with this bond, MC."

“I-I don't understand,"

“I will explain, but not now.” Sylus met her gaze making sure she understands every word he says, "A lot has happened in the past and it had something to do with a curse that binds me to you in every life we live. And you know what's the worst part? We're always doomed. We don't get to be really happy. I always end up dead and you end up killing me … grieving me.”

Recalling it all, it leaves a bitter taste in his tongue. Always cursed to die, to suffer. To love her but always end up dead. It drained him of hope, of joy, of life.

"It made me who I am today because of all those experiences. Living day to day just to wait for the time that I'll die. But that changed here. It changed because of Y/N. I get to experience the things that I thought I was desensitized of. She made me hope that I can break free of this cycle.”

Sylus held her hand. Begging.

“So please, think of it. Help me find a way to break this cycle."

With a single tear and a shaky voice he begged. “Please let me go."

"Let me go!” You screamed and tried to kick Luke and Kieran. "Get off me!”

"No can do, Madame. You need to go home. Boss Man is going crazy looking for you.” Kieran said. "He's flipping the base inside out just to find you.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Ah so he does remember I exist? I was so close to being free and you just have to drag me back."

Indeed, you're so close to leaving the N109 Zone. Just one step and you're out of their radar but just before you can run, Mephisto’s blocking your way followed by Luke and Kieran.

“I know you've been having a hard time lately and the boss is really at fault. But come home for now. It's dangerous out here. He has a lot of enemies and they won't hesitate to use you to their advantage.” Luke said. “Plus, he has alerted everyone of his trusted alliances and the whole base to guard every entrance and exit in N109 Zone. Even if you manage to step outside you'll be dragged back home.”

“Fine. I guess I have no choice." All that running and hiding just to come back to base and it's not because you want to, but because you can't. You're sure that the moment you run, Mephisto is already tailing you and alerting everyone. Plus, you can't really outrun a bird.

“If you really want to leave, and you have enough reasons, Boss is not heartless enough to cage you. I know that you know it very well." Kieran said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You didn't give him an answer. You just walked with them to their car and closed your eyes. You can hear the twins updating Sylus that you're with them.

Right … Once you get home, you have no choice but to face the inevitable. You planned to just leave him be and let him live his life with Miss Hunter, but he just has to find you when you don't want to be found.

You're too busy thinking of every possibile thing that you'll say to Sylus and didn't notice the time it took before the car stopped in front of his home. Luke and Kieran left you saying something about giving you privacy. You can't really tell. You're not paying much attention.

Just as you were stepping down from the car, you saw Miss Hunter. Anger bubbled in your chest. You're here being dragged back home with the thought that he's looking for you because he cares but then you're gonna see her here?

You were about to march back to the car when you saw the state that Miss Hunter is in. Her eyes are puffy and red. Looked like she cried. Once she saw you, she avoided your gaze and muttered a brief “I'm sorry," and left.

It was weird. What's happening?

Behind her you saw Sylus running for his life. Immediately, you thought that he's running after her. That's the natural order of things right?

“You're back, you're really back." His hard body slammed yours and you were engulfed in a tight hug. You can feel his erratic heartbeat and his shaking hands that cradle the back of your head.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need anything?"

You looked at him. Your heart is splitting in two.

This is your Sylus. This is the Sylus you loved. The one who only looks at you. The one that loves you.

He's back.

But why now? Why now when you decided that you're done? You tear your gaze away from him.

“Sweetie, please say something." He begged, cupping your cheeks to make you look at him.

“I know I have not been a good boyfriend, but please hear me out, okay?” His voice breaks as he talks to you. You can hear fear, desperation and sadness in them. “I love you, I really do and I'm choosing you. I'm choosing us —”

A hiccup escaped from your lips. Since when did you start sobbing? You didn't know. But your tears are free flowing now. All the hurt that you kept hidden is now out in the open.

“But you left. You left me. You chose her. You always choose her." you said. Like a kid who lost her precious toy, you cried and hit Sylus's chest. “I know everything. You don't have to lie. Sweet Evil Trap, huh? Half of your soul? I know that. I read them in your journal."

“How can you tell me you love me when you have her? You were waiting for her. Not just once but in every lifetime." You sobbed as he pulled you to a hug. He didn't say a word. He just let you pour your heart out.

“All I wanted was one dinner with you. A time for just the two of us, but you're so ready to ditch me because she called. A-and I realized that no matter what you say, that no matter how much you tell me you love me, I can't really compete with her because you don't love me as much as her."

You tried to pull away from him but he just held you closer.

"That's not true, no, no, I love you. No one else. It's just complicated, darling. We have this bond —”

You snapped and pushed him away.

"That stupid bond again! How many times do I have to hear that? How many times do I have to be slapped by the fact that I do not have any connection with you? That you need to discard me as soon as possible to be with your soulmate!?”

He grabbed your wrist when you tried to walk away. “Listen to me first! Yes, there's a bond connecting us but I want it gone! AND IT'S NOT A FUCKING SOULMATE BOND IT'S A CURSE!"

He raised his voice at you and that made you shut up. He never yells at you. This is the first time. And you expect anger to fill his eyes but it's pure sadness and pleading that you give him a chance to tell his truth.

“Sylus,"

“It's a curse, alright? She cursed me to always have my soul tied to her. Yes we did have a past, it was beautifully tragic. She had to kill me. I had her kill me so I could save her. But it gets tiring over time. It gets tiring to always live just to die. I relived that life multiple times and I was not happy anymore.”

You see his tears flowing now. You want to wipe them away but you're stoned in place still trying to process what he said. So when he kissed your hand, you didn't pull away. You saw that it gave him a little relief so you let him continue.

“And then you came. You came and changed everything. For once, I wanted to be happy again. To be selfish again. To live for as long as I can just to be with you. I may have been a fool as of late, but that's the life that I was accustomed to.”

"Once she's here, I know it's a matter of time for me to die and I willingly throw myself in there. Because that's the fate I have to live. And this bond? This energy linkage makes sure that I hurt every time I try to defy my fate. But because of you, for once I have the desire to take control of my life again.”

You cannot stop crying now hearing all of that. He wipes your tears with his thumb and planted kisses on your temple. You mustered the courage to reach for his face and wipe the wetness off his cheeks. He leaned in to your touch savoring every moment.

“I talked to MC, I asked her to help me break the curse she bestowed upon me." He said kissing your palm. “I'm choosing you, sweetie. I'm choosing this life. So please, please let me make it up to you?"

You take a deep breath. You have decided.

"I love you. So, so much,” you gave him a quick kiss. "And thank you for choosing to live your life as your own.”

His hold on your hand tightens, "Baby, please.”

"But I still need to leave.” New waves of tears flowed from the both of you. "I know that you're telling me the truth and you're genuine, but the problem here is not just in your situation with MC but with the conflict on myself as well.”

"Sylus, I'm insecure and I'm having a hard time accepting that you're choosing me. In my head you're saying this because you're guilty. Because you're a good person and you can't bear to see me hurting so you're sacrificing your own happiness just to cater to me.” you said.

“Do you see the point I'm making? I acknowledge your bravery for choosing us, for choosing your happiness, but I also have to make this decision, Sylus. The hurt I felt won't be mended and healed just because you told me all of that. So I need to go away for some time. To heal, and find it in myself to trust you without any speck of doubt. You get me right? If I don't do this, I will just end up hurting you more because I am broken.”

“I need time, Sylus. Time to process and heal. And if by the time we see each other again and you're still feeling the same thing and I am as well, then maybe we'll go from there."

It was hard for Sylus but he knows that you need this. That you both need this. So despite not liking the idea of you leaving and the fear of the possibility that you won't be back, he nods his head. It was his own fault that you're thinking that way. He broke you and mere words are not enough to mend your heart.

He will live his life as his own. He will hope that you will keep him in your heart because he is sure that he won't be able to find anyone to love aside from you.

“I understand, darling." he replied, “I am so sorry for putting you through that, but please know that I love you and if ever you find it in your heart to come back to me, you know where to find me."

That same night, you packed your bags and left the N109 Zone. Sylus took you to Linkon. He remembered looking at your back as you walked away. Your shoulders obviously shaking as you cry.

That night was the night that Sylus felt the loneliest he has ever been. That night, Sylus wished that you'll find happiness and come back to him.

But if you don't?

Then he'll just be content and happy that even for a brief time it felt like he truly lived again.

OMG last part? Hmm Yes, No, Maybe so?

Reactions, reblogs and comments are welcome please let me hear them. Thank youuuu

[mariasont]

short n sweet but we need one where spencer loves head scratches and getting his hair played with

Heart Nebula - S.R

summary: spencer tells you every atom in your body was once part of a star, but you think he's the celestial wonder worth studying. pairings: spencer reid x reader warnings: fluff galore, existentialism, star-gazing, astrophysics inaccuracies im so sure wc: 2.1k

"You'd be so proud of me today, you know."

You scoot closer, disrupting the careful folds of the blanket. The fabric bunches beneath your legs, damp soil seeps through, not quite wet enough to be a problem, but enough to make you aware of it. A blade of grass tickles stubbornly at your ankle. You wiggle your foot once, twice, it stays. Some things do.

Your pinky grazes his, the barest of contact, but he turns his head anyway. The night seems to fold him in shadow, softens his features, makes him look almost ethereal. His eyes give him away, glinting back at you, tiny shards of cosmos blinking back at you. It should be impossible to feel jealously of the sky, and yet.

"Yeah?" The familiar crease settles between his brows, a well-loved marker in the pages of him. His head tilts, waiting, not impatiently, already certain he's going to love your answer. "Why's that?"

Your smile jumps ahead of you, swells into one of those too-big-for-your-face grins. The kind that crinkles your nose, bunches your cheeks, makes your face ache after a while.

"I learned about a nebula."

Spencer's laugh starts in his chest and works its way out, rattling through his ribs, shaking his shoulders, until the momentum knocks his knee into yours.

"Look at you," he says, all teasing admiration. "I am proud. Which one?"

"I think It was called the Heart Nebula?" You glance at him, waiting, watching, half-hoping that he'll recognize the name, that he'll give you that little nod of confirmation.

He does. You beam.

"I saw a picture earlier, and it was just —," You trail off, eyes tipping upwards, letting the sky steal whatever poetic explanation you were about to give. "I don't know. Too beautiful to be real."

Spencer had been so excited when you told him you wanted to stargaze, his eyes had practically glowed, already rattling off a dozen facts about atmospheric conditions and celestial visibility, and why tonight was perfect.

He barely took a breath before he had been launching into a dozen more reasons, winding himself up so tight with words that the only way to release them, apparently, was kissing you. Feverishly.

Like he had no other way to translate his excitement into something tangible, something felt.

It made you want to promise him everything, to tell him you'd do this forever, that you'd let him drag you under the stars a thousand times over if it meant being kissed like that.

Spencer glances at you, his mouth twitching like you've just said the punchline to a joke you don't realize you're telling. You're here, waxing about a sky full of ancient light, calling the Heart Nebula too beautiful to be real, and he's looking at you like you've missed the most obvious part.

You narrow your eyes, but he only shakes his head, like whatever crossed his mind was his to keep.

"The Heart Nebula is full of newborn stars," he tells you, gaze still pointed on the sky. "Their radiation makes the gas glow red, pink. The whole thing shifts under stellar winds, reshaping itself, over and over again."

His voice wades its way through the parts of your brain, finding its place. He has this way of explaining things, of turning something infinite into something intimate. 

And you love that. Love how he does that. Love the way he sees things. Love him.

"It's about 7,500 light-years away. Which means the light we're seeing now left before humans even figured out agriculture." A small, disbelieving laugh escapes him. "By the time it reaches us, whatever we're looking at doesn't exist the same way anymore. It's already changed. Probably unrecognizable."

His fingers twitch against his thigh, probably resisting the urge to gesture. "Space is weird like that."

"I don't know, Spence," you tease, fingers pinching the sleeve of his shirt, catching just enough of him to feel real. His dimple carves into his cheek and your heart stumbles, caught between beats. "It kind of sounds like you're telling me I can't trust my own eyes."

"Well, technically you can't." He turns fully toward you, dimple still firmly in place, eyes flicking, too quickly, too obviously, to your lips. "The human eye takes in scattered bits of light, and your brain—" he taps your temple for emphasis "—fills in the blanks. Adjusts for shadows, alters colors based on what it thinks is there. Your eyes are compulsive liars."

He pauses, tiling his head, considering. "And since our perception is limited by our optic nerves, no one really sees their own eyes the way others do. Which is a shame, because if you could see yours the way I do, you'd understand why I can't help but stare."

There are moments when Spencer says something so casually devastating that your brain just empties, and this is absolutely one of them. Your mouth opens, then closes again.

"That's —" Your voice catches, so you clear your throat, shake your head, try to reassemble your thoughts. "That's a really unfair thing to say, you know."

Spencer blinks, like he’s running back through the conversation in real time, replaying his own words to figure out what, exactly, made you forget how to breathe. 

"Why?"

"Because some of us have a very delicate hold on their emotional stability, and you—” you point at him, accusing “— just shattered it in two sentences."

"Technically, that’s the limbic system at work. The amygdala controls emotional reactivity, but the prefrontal cortex tempers it."

You would try to unpack that, really, you would, but then his hands find your waist, and suddenly the ground isn't where you thought it was. You gasp, giggle, crash right into him, catching yourself with shaking hands against his chest.

"So really," he continues, as if you aren't sprawled across him, "if your emotional stability was shattered, you should blame your neural pathways, not me."

Your fingers twist in his hair as you lean in to kiss him, deeply and thoroughly, like proof, like inevitability maybe, a thought forming in real time, one you can press straight into his skin. 

"Maybe my neural pathways are just adapting to something worth remembering," you whisper, and the way he stills, the way his lips part just slightly, makes you think you might not be the only one.

Spencer makes a small, pleased noise against your lips, something that was half sighed and smiled, and you feel it, all of it, in the way his throat moves beneath your fingertips as he swallows.

"That... might be my favorite use of neuroscience yet."

You flash him a grin. "And you thought I wasn't paying attention when you ramble."

"I should've known you'd find a way to weaponize it."

You let your full weight settle onto him, chin perched on his chest, his heartbeat a slow song beneath your cheek. Your fingers slip into his hair, threading through soft strands, nails scraping lightly over his scalp, testing a theory you already know the answer to.

Yeah. Definite reaction.

"So that's what it takes, huh?" you tease, lips curling against the material of his shirt. You scratch again to be sure, and his next breath comes slower. "Just a well-placed brain chemistry reference?"

"From you? Yeah, that'll do it."

"Noted." A pause. Then, softer. "Keep talking to me about space."

"You know, you're kind of demanding." Spencer's fingers skate along your waist before he squeezes, firm and quick, like a punctuation mark to his sentence. 

Your head lifts, eyebrow quirked, fingers hovering just out of reach, close enough for him to feel the absence. "Excuse me?"

His smirk vanishes instantly, wiped clean, replaced by something perilously close to distress. His hands twitch at your waist, fingers moving like he can pull you back, like he can make you continue if he just wants it badly enough.

"Wait, wait, I was kidding," he rushes out, voice just shy of frantic. “Don't stop."

You grin, tilting your head like you're considering it. "Hmmm. Apologize."

"I — okay, I'm sorry, you're perfect, please —" his breath hitches, his laugh a little wild, a little helpless, "please keep going."

You giggle, fingertips weaving back into his hair. His response is immediate, a low, shaky sound that buzzes against your skin, something so content it makes warmth spreads through you like a lit fuse, spilling all the way down to your toes.

Spencer smirks, fingers drumming against your waist.

"You really don't let a guy off easy, do you?" He pauses for a second, glancing past you at the sky like he's taking in his options.

"Alright. Here's a fact you might like, every single part of you was once part of a star. All the heavier elements in your body, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen, they were formed in the core of ancient stars, forged under immense heat and pressure, then scattered across the galaxy when those stars died, reforming."

His words drift to you, but you don't catch them all. You're too busy watching him.

Out here, in the absence of light pollution, you can see him more clearly than ever. The starlight doesn't just touch him, it claims him, dusting his skin in silver, catching in his lashes, turning the slopes of him almost unreal. Like if you blink too long, he might disappear, slip back into the night where he belongs. A constellation carved into the shape of a person.

You used to think brown was such a simple color. But then you met him, saw his eyes, now it's in everything. Wet earth after rain, cinnamon dusted over coffee, burnt sugar on your tongue.

And now, he’s teaching you it’s also carbon and oxygen forged in the cores of dying stars, pieces of the galaxy that had traveled billions of years to become chocolate flecks on a beautiful face.

He was right, it is a shame people never see their eyes the way others do.

"But how?" you ask. "Like... how does something go from being part of a star to being part of us?"

Spencer exhales softly and you can see the way he loves the question.

 "It's a long process. Billions of years, actually. When a star explodes, it sends all those elements out into space. They mix with other interstellar material, forming new stars, planets, and eventually..." He taps a gentle finger against your stomach. "You."

"That's kind of incredible."

Spencer huffs a quiet laugh, grinning, that beautiful grin, the one that makes your chest feel too small for your heart. His fingers find your temple, trail gently down to your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Then, without pause, he leans in and presses the gentlest kiss to your nose.

"It is," he murmurs, thumb brushing against your cheek. "We're built from pieces of space, borrowed, passed down, stitched together by time."

"So you're saying we've been part of the same universe forever? That's kind of romantic, Spence."

"It's also backed by astrophysics. Science just happens to be romantic sometimes. "

"Well, good," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his neck. "I like knowing there's proof... but I think I would've believed it anyway."

You barely have time to register the flicker in his eyes before, he moves. In a second, you're on your back, the sky stretching endlessly behind him. The stars flicker, countless and beautiful, but right now, they might as well not exist.

Because all you see is him.

He hovers over you, gaze intent, studying you, like you're a phenomenon he never expected to witness up close. Like he's sure now, more than he's ever been about anything. Like you are the discovery of a lifetime.

"The universe has been expanding for 13.8 billion years," he murmurs, fingers trailing along your jaw. "But I don't think it's ever made anything more beautiful than you."

Heat blooms beneath your skin. "More than the Heart Nebula?"

It should sound like teasing. It doesn't.

Spencer exhales, almost like he's amused by your doubt.

"The Heart Nebula exists purely because gravity and radiation dictate that it must. But you..." His gaze softens. "You exist because of a thousand tiny impossibilities stacking on top of each other. The odds of you, of this, are so astronomically low that it shouldn't have happened at all."

Spencer just looks at you for a moment. You don't move, don't breathe. And then he kisses you.

It crashes over you, stealing your breath before you even realize it's happening. His hands tighten at your sides, pulling you closer, like the space between you is unbearable. It's not rushed nor desperate, but it is consuming, the kind of thing that makes it impossible to think of anything else.

When he breaks away, he doesn't go far, forehead resting against yours. "If the universe was capable of making something more beautiful, it would have done it by now."

And maybe that’s true. Maybe the universe, for all its galaxies and nebulae and infinite expanse, never did anything better than this. Not just you, but you and him together. 

Or maybe the universe will never quite get it right again. Because maybe this was its best work.

But it won’t stop trying. It never does. Even after you’re gone, even after you and Spencer are nothing but scattered atoms, the universe will keep going. Creating. Expanding. Changing. New stars will be born, dust will settle into something new, planets will form, galaxies will stretch apart. And maybe, somewhere, the pieces that were once you and him will find their way back to each other. And maybe, if the universe has any kindness left in it, they’ll get to love like this.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[seumyo]

people thinking that sakusa’s being maltreated because of the bruises on his forearm, but the truth is . .

Sakusa is known to always wear his compression sleeves on and off the court for post-game press conferences. It completed his signature look. His overall flair.

Everything seemed normal at first, but it wasn’t long before murmurs surfaced through the room. Reporters exchanged glances, some scrolling through their phones, others whispering among themselves.

The reason? For the first time in a long while, Sakusa wasn’t wearing his compression sleeves.

His toned forearms were exposed for everyone to see, and to the media’s surprise, they weren’t completely unblemished. Faint bruises and clusters of reddish dots speckled his skin—nothing severe, but noticeable enough to raise eyebrows. Some looked older, fading into his skin, while others were more recent.

The questions were bound to come.

“Sakusa-san, many fans have noticed that you’re not wearing your usual sleeves today. And, well…” she hesitated, gesturing vaguely at his arms.

“There’s been a lot of speculation about the marks on your skin. Is everything alright?”

Sakusa blinked once, his expression unreadable. He glanced down at his arms, clearly catching onto what she meant. A moment of silence passed before he let out a slow exhale through his nose.

He knew this would happen eventually.

“Seriously?” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Then, into the mic, he deadpanned, “I’m fine.”

The room remained unconvinced.

Sakusa could already imagine what the internet was saying. Rumors were probably spreading like wildfire—was he getting into fights? Had he been injured in training? Worse, was something happening at home?

“If I may, are those from mosquitos? With the recent outbreak of mosquitos due to the warm weather, could it be from those?”

“No.”

“Allergies, perhaps?”

“None.”

A few more reporters shuffled in their seats, hesitant but clearly eager to dig deeper.

Then, another one asked, “Just to clarify, you’re saying these marks aren’t from… any sort of external conflict?”

Sakusa’s brow twitched. He leaned forward slightly, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask as he adjusted the mic, and let out another small sigh. “I’m not being abused, if that’s what people are implying.”

The room went silent. His fellow players exchanged approving nods, letting their teammate handle the situation.

“My wife is in medical school,” Sakusa continued, his voice even, matter-of-fact. “She’s refreshing her phlebotomy skills, and I often volunteer to be her patient whenever she needs someone for a demo or assignment.”

The silence stretched for a moment before a few quiet chuckles broke through, some from relief, others from sheer amusement at the unexpected explanation. Well, it wasn’t often Sakusa talked about you.

“So… you’re saying these marks are from blood extractions?”

“Yes,” he answered, tilting his head slightly as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “She wants to practice, and I’d rather help her than have her struggle to find volunteers.”

Hinata whispered something to Bokuto, but even with the low volume of the mic, Sakusa still caught it.

“That’s kinda romantic.”

He turned his head slightly to glare at them, but Bokuto was already grinning. “No, but really! That’s, like, peak husband material. You’re not even fond of monthly checkups.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Meian chuckled. “You’re literally letting someone practice on you repeatedly. That’s dedication.”

Reporters were already typing away, some clearly rewriting their headlines. What had started as a potentially scandalous story had turned into something else entirely.

The media had long known Sakusa to be a private person, almost aggressively so. He rarely spoke about his personal life, and to this day, many fans still couldn’t believe he was married. Out of all the MSBY Black Jackals players, Sakusa and your marriage are by far the most private.

It wouldn’t even have been known if it weren’t for Hinata’s post with the newly wedded couple a year ago!

And yet, here he was, casually revealing that he lets you practice medical procedures on him just to support your studies.

“Is she any good?” another reporter asked, grinning now. “At phlebotomy?”

His eyes narrowed briefly. “Her undergraduate course is medical laboratory science—so yes, she’s been doing this for years.”

“And you’ve never complained?”

He shrugged. That was the stupidest question he’s heard today.

“Why would I? She supports me in my career. The least I can do is support her in hers.”

The room was quiet for a second before a wave of approving murmurs spread across the lobby area. The tension had completely shifted.

Bokuto grinned. “Man, you’re really down bad for your wife, huh?”

Sakusa sighed, clearly regretting every life decision that led him to sitting next to Bokuto in this moment. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to volleyball.”

Hinata laughed. “It’s not, but it’s fun to watch you get all flustered as you tell them more about [Last Name], Omi!”

“I’m not flustered,” Sakusa muttered, tugging at his jersey sleeve slightly as if contemplating whether he should just start wearing them all the time again to avoid situations like this.

“Like hell ye aren’t,” Atsumu snorted.

By the time the conference ended, social media had already latched onto the revelation.

#SakusaBestHusband started trending almost immediately, with fans gushing over how unexpectedly sweet he was. Some joked that they wanted a “Sakusa-level” of support in their relationships.

-

You had been watching the press conference from your laptop at home, your face buried in your hands as your notifications blew up.

A few minutes later, Sakusa messaged you.

Kiyoomi: I hate the internet.

You: And they love you, actually.

Kiyoomi: They won’t shut up about me letting you stab me with needles.

You: You do let me stab you with needles.

Kiyoomi: It’s more than that. Ugh, people don’t educate themselves enough about your profession

Kiyoomi: And it sounds worse when you say it like that.

You laughed, shaking your head.

You: Well, you are the best husband in the whole world ever. You kind of brought this on yourself.

He didn’t reply right away, and you assumed he was on his way back home. But when your phone buzzed again, your heart warmed at the short but sincere message.

Kiyoomi: You’re worth it. Be home in 20 minutes

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[takes1]

your needy Kenma smut was SOOO good omfg I was biting my fist reading it!! can i request a needy suna smut?

needy!suna rintarou x reader

hi!! so glad you liked it!! wow this took me so long i'm so sorry! i just could not find a way to write it without it being exactly the same as kenma's!

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / forbidden, established relationship / manager!reader / vocal!suna / whiny!suna / needy!suna / bratty!suna / liiiight mommy kink nobody freak tf out!! / suna has a cute laugh / creampie / raw cuddly sex / 1.9k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines. my request box

"Don't look at me like that, Rin'."

Your fingers were smushing the lower half of his face, angling his head away from you. His head stayed obediently forward at the center court, but those eyes were still piercing through you.

Through his fishy-lips, his words became jumbled together, "'can' helb i'--,"

It wasn't his fault he looked so mean, so critical when he focused in on something.

"I can't help it," He spat, rubbing his jaw.

Suna wasn't careful about his hand placement. The members of Inarizaki knew you had been dating for a time, but Coach Kurosu did not need a reason to question your managerial position.

When you pushed his hand away from your waist, his face scrunched; that mean and bitter look returned, tenfold.

A frustrated, hushed, but not quiet, "I want you."

Though it wasn't an appropriate time, place, or circumstance, it would be lie to say that it wasn't hot. The unique mixture of his assertive, court-like focus and lesser-known bedroom-only begging forced you to cross your arms.

"You-," You glanced around, thankful nobody heard that, "Have a game to focus on."

The attitude he gave was not only unwarranted, but it succeeded in making you less receptive. To you, it was obvious that he was only looking for an out. He was tired and halfway through a challenging match. You couldn't spare to be his partner right now, and he did not like that.

He sucked his teeth, tapped his foot, crossed his arms, worked his jaw, and gave you a sharp sigh, all within five minutes of angry silence.

What a whiny bastard.

You found his struggle almost amusing. At the moment, it was more important to maintain your focus, for the both of you.

Still, it kept you wondering throughout the remainder of the match: What had you possibly done to warrant such a strong response?

Every instance that he had to be around the bench, drinking water, a temporary switch-out, he would send you a deeply dissatisfied glance. You didn't justify it with a reaction. He was being bratty.

Though you were a prude, anti-PDA personality in public, especially around the team-- you were the one to push him back onto the mattress and throw his shirt across the room, once you were back at his place.

"Fuck--mnh!"

That pretty sigh was all he could get out before you were on top of him.

"Start talking," You muttered. Your shirt was off in seconds.

His breathing grew heavy, eyes black with lust at the sight of your pretty skin, his favorite bra he clocked earlier under your shirt- the whole reason his mind got to spinning.

Suna was kept this irritating, calculating, slithery persona up around his friends, and especially during matches, because he learned that it kept him safe. He didn't always like being so on edge. He wanted to trust somebody enough to tell them everything that passed through his mind, to be skin-to-skin and a little weird, because you were comfortable and safe.

Here, under you, after enough love and time, he knew he didn't need to waste energy on appearances.

"I- ah-h, I just wanted you so bad," Was his honest attempt at an explanation.

He sat up to touch you, kiss you, but you kept him to the sheets with a forearm.

"Are you trying to get me kicked out?"

Suna huffed, eyes bouncing from your face, to your confined tits, then back, "What?""

Your legs slid a bit further apart, weight settling better onto his warm lap, "If Coach finds out we're dating, you know I'm gone."

You snapped, just for emphasis, but he flinched, "Like that. In an instant."

He was painfully hard. You could feel him throbbing, even through his combo of athletic shorts and thick sweatpants. Despite the circumstances, you knew he was keen enough to understand that you were a little pissed off about his lack of restraint.

He was in that spot you liked seeing him work through. Struggling, deciding whether to be nice, or snarky.

"You're smarter than that, baby," Was much kinder of a statement in tone, but it tipped him off to be rude, instead.

Those narrowed eyes dripped down to your chest slow, sweet, like honey.

"Why'd you wear that, then?" He felt you stiffen. He placed a hot palm onto your hip to help his well-intentioned venom settle.

You couldn't believe that was his entire problem, summed up in five words.

"Are you really so dirty-minded that you could tell what bra I was wearing? Under my shirt?"

The call-out was meant to return his energy, but he responded in a more secure way than you.

"When it's you, yeah--," He sat up with ease, against your pushing, just to remind you that he could outclass your force if he wanted to. He caught your small frown and he corrected himself, "Yes, ma'am."

You gave a small hum, a low-lidded stare right back at him. He was so hot when he deferred to you.

It warranted a strong, messy kiss- all charged with hours of denial, suggestive glances, and too many minutes of clothed rubbing.

All your clothes came off in a range of easy to difficult, distracted efforts.

Suna lay under you, all flushed and twitchy with anticipation. Your hands flitted down his sensitive, strong sides, his cock crammed between your legs, getting spoiled and slick. Not inside, not just yet.

You loved tickling him just to hear his laugh.

And he'd tolerate anything with you gliding over his dick, like that. Giving him such a good view.

"Shhh-haha-h-ahh!" He bit his lip to keep from giggling, moaning, too much or too loudly.

That look he gave you was enough. All twisted, pleading, intelligent. Like he knew exactly what he said and how he said it, would get you turned on.

His sound was adorable, rare.

It was unrestrained, and light, cute, enough to understand why he kept it behind his hand around his friends. Sounded exactly like something a bunch of guys might make fun of him for.

"Hmm.. Let's cuddle fuck," You pressed a tingly kiss just under his ear.

You knew he was feeling lazy. Your job today wasn't easy, either. You wanted to feel close at the end of a busy day, more than anything.

Suna was warm, and tired, and tacky to the touch but it all added to how badly you wanted each other. It was a demanding match, and getting all upset with each other made it feel that much longer.

Slick, and hot, and easy was the adjustment to him. Nothing to do with his real size- you were just ready, after having to put up an act, as if you were too above all of it.

The panting you had to listen to on the sidelines, watching him miss his mouth with the squeezy bottle, all the sweat and water dripping onto his jersey, it ate at you, corroded the brick walls you put up. Even his frustrated glare was sexy. He couldn't stop looking at you, even with an important task at hand, or when his teammates needed him to focus.

Now he fucked you like your mean -still, justified- rejection was never a problem, like he was savoring you slowly.

"Yes-yes, yesyes," Suna swallowed up your moans in a greedy kiss.

"Mmh- how's that feel--?" You purred.

"So good," A satisfied groan, "Fuck- Got such a perfect pussy."

His hand kept your thigh up, your knee close to your shoulder. He inspired a gasp at how quickly he bottomed out to your teasing.

He stretched you so good, so easily, and kept your trembling steady in his grasp-- but every sound he made was shaky, barely held together, and never masked.

After three months, Suna decided at some point on his own that he could trust you enough to completely let go in the bedroom. Though he naturally gravitated to a more submissive role, he usually said some downright sleazy, vulgar shit to get his kicks.

"A-ha, h-fuc-k, aughh, you feel so good, you--," His breath clipped into a high, closed-mouth whine as he pulled you harder onto the base of his cock, just flexing hard, as deep as he could get.

Your teeth sunk into his pillowcase, fingers filled with plush.

The knowledge that he loved it, but couldn't ever get as deep as he wanted, had your strength waning. Squeezing, bracing, at all the butterflies tired you out.

Although, if it were a competition, Suna had you beat by a mile. The drooling, whiny mess behind you may have had enough to strength to use his body weight to keep you smushed, but you could tell he was sloppier, clumsier, with exhaustion.

He buried his face in your neck.

"I-I'h- needed you so bad," His moan was so light and breathy- like he was swimming on Cloud 9-, "So-h, so... fucking...bad."

Your uncontrollable squirm to get away from the sensation was met with instant crushing. Even if you wanted your thigh back, it would never happen.

"Mh-h-! Rin-," You tried to speak, but he was hitting all your angles just right, so you stopped.

His words were twisting up that knot in your tummy, the trap of his arms a steady, innocent backdrop to how filthy he decided to fuck you.

Slurred mutters, consisting of mostly nonsense syllables and phrases, sometimes bred real messages like, "So hot," "Mommy," "So much," and, "'Can't take it."

His yapping, you thought, may have been a way of making up for how little he spoke, usually. You were generally much quieter than him here, but outside of the bedroom, the opposite remained true. It was cute.

"M'so- close-mh," His groans were short, choked on pleasure, his squeezing desperate and uneven.

The idea of him finishing close, hugging you, just like this, was too hot to let not happen.

You gathered yourself to tell him, "C-um-- Mh, inside, pretty boy."

"F-uck!" That tone completely tipped him over the edge.

Your grin was to yourself, twitchy and genuine, before the feeling of fullness set in.

He was left to fuck out his load as deep inside of you as he could get, "Fuckfu-ck- Ahh-hh-!"

Your nails dragged across his skin- the white hot, pulsing enough to spur a sudden orgasm. Dark lines remained in their wake as your muffled whines filled his ears.

And Suna was nothing if not dedicated. He fucked you as well as he could through your own, whinier, less violent experience. His breath, laden in the resolution of his own, was hot and tingly across your sensitive ear.

You squeezed his arm to stop and he finally let your leg down.

"Hm...sorry," He mumbled into a peck against your cheek, "You okay?"

Sore, and achy, you shared a giggly kiss. He softened naturally and you readjusted to hold each other, warm and soft, with chemical infatuation.

"Mhmm," You stole a longer, slower kiss.

Those pretty eyes watched you, worshipped you, as you rubbed your hand across his jaw.

"Perfect."

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[thisisntmyrightera]

Together - CHO HYUN-JU x Fem Reader

Summary: Reader is scammed and abandoned by her boyfriend, leaving her alone in South Korea to her fate, so in desperate search of a solution to return to her home country she decides to join the squid games to get money, within the game she meets a couple of people who become her friends and could possibly be something more.

Warning: In this episode none!

In futures episodes: Violence, Strong language, female main character is considered heterosexual but she have feelings for a female (Cho Hyun-ju) and it is reciprocated, abuse for male characters.

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You were stupid, very stupid and naive, that was what you repeated to yourself every day since your ex-boyfriend scammed you and abandoned you in a country where you didn't know anyone, you couldn't even understand the language well and now you were locked up in a place full of strangers in a green uniform and with a headache you could barely bear.

Why were you doing such stupid things? You should have said no when that man approached you and offered you money, it was all for the damn money, otherwise how would you find another way to get home?

Barely a day had passed, you understood little of the first game where you saw one person after another die around you, what you had gotten yourself into, this wasn't a game, it was a massacre, as you sat cross-legged on the cold bed that had been assigned to you you could feel your hands shaking and you felt warm tears rolling down your cheeks.

Hey - a kind voice rumbled slowly but enough to wake you from your trance to look up and see a boy with long, slicked-back hair holding a small metal tray - I noticed you didn't come over for your food, I brought you some

His equally shaky hand moved a little closer to you, leaving the tray on the bed, staring at you, afraid you'd react

It's okay if you don't want to eat it, it's just that if we're going to keep playing you need strength for tomorrow - his kind but shy smile and his clear disinterest in leaving made you wipe your tears with the sleeves of your sweater, nodding taking a deep breath - Thanks - you told him, trying not to sound upset, because you really weren't and if you were it was only with yourself

My name is Dae-Ho, yours is… 144 - he looked at you curiously taking a bite of his food

Y/N… my name is Y/N - you sighed, hugging your legs uncomfortably and nervous

Hey, leave her alone - a loud and somewhat curious voice sounded behind Dae-Ho making the two look towards the sound - don't you see that you're making her uncomfortable? go away

I… I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, it's just that… - Dae-Ho looked at you embarrassed, walking away just a few steps

You don't have to give explanations, go away - the girl, a little taller than Dae-Ho, looked at him firmly, almost annoyed, following the man with her gaze as he walked away quickly and embarrassed, joining a group of men on the other shelf of beds

you can eat in peace - the girl looked at you kindly while you only responded with a slight nod and she walked away returning to her place two beds down on the shelf next to you

It was difficult for you not to go unnoticed and it was obvious that everyone wanted to get away from you, you weren't like them, you didn't share their nationality, their traditions, or their topics of conversation, you didn't even understand many of them what they were talking about, they all looked at you like a weirdo, like why a foreigner could come and want to steal their prize, it was unfair.

That's how you spent the first night, alone, trembling from the cold and fear, looking into the darkness while you cried silently and the gunshots echoed in your ears, it was a nightmare and that's how you were until sleep overcame you

The second day wasn't any better, you could barely carry yourself, you were tired, hungry and much more scared than yesterday, surrounded by hundreds of people in a courtyard with drawings of children and rainbows on the floor.

''Now, it's time to form teams of 5, you have 10 minutes'' the voice of the speaker sounded repeatedly before an alarm sounded and you saw how everyone ran looking for members for their team, but everyone seemed to avoid you like a plague.

They ran and pushed you but no one looked at you to join and if they looked at you it was to laugh and murmur

There she was again, standing in front of you with a sad look that barely met your eyes she looked at the floor and walked by your side.

Hey… - you murmured barely, only to her with fear and shame - if you still don't have a team… I can join you if you don't mind - she looked at you over her shoulder giving a sigh of relief nodding offering you her hand so she could walk by your side and not get lost in the crowd

Between your fingers you could notice the difference in size between your small and fragile hand and hers, it was big with a different strength and somewhat rough but still made you feel protected and confident

So you both walked almost in circles finding the fragile old woman and her son and then the little girl with bangs forming a team of 5

Again the games were confusing for you, you could identify some that resembled what you had once played in your country but fear consumed you making your hands tremble again

Calm down - her voice again fragile but somewhat thick made you look at her holding the air - everything will be fine, don't push yourself too much okay? Do you think you can take charge of throwing the rocks? It's just a matter of taking a rock, throwing it and making the second one fall, that's all you have to do - her voice was like a murmur trying not to interrupt the game of the first two teams that were participating

Should I just throw it? - you looked at her nervously, looking at her dark eyes behind her bangs

You just have to throw it, it's easy - she smiled at you giving you hope making you smile barely as you looked at the floor again nervously trying not to think about everything that was tormenting your head, in the background you could hear the screams and cheers that the other players made while the teams participated until a round of gunshots made you jump scared covering your ears and closing your eyes tightly - calm down, calm down nothing is happening - her arms surrounded you quickly, adjusting you against her chest, you could feel the strands of her hair on your face and a slight aroma of herbs coming from it - it's over, don't open your eyes until I tell you okay?

Your head barely nodded as you took a deep breath, the aroma of her hair made you remember the gardens where you walked when you first arrived in South Korea and her arms for some reason made you feel protected, nothing could happen to you

A couple of minutes (that seemed like an eternity) passed slowly, people were talking, some were crying and in the background you could hear the sound of the sirens of the forklifts that had come to pick up the bodies, one second after another it was a damn nightmare.

''Next team, you can take your position'' the voice from the speaker again

It's our turn - the old woman sighed getting up while you opened your eyes and stood up slowly with fear

The guards tied your ankles and after a shot the game for you began.

You walked counting the steps, being constant and fast in your tasks, first Ddjaki, the little girl with the bangs did well, then the flying rock, your trembling hands held it strong and letting out a deep sigh you threw it against the rock in the distance failing in the attempt

Girl concentrate, what's wrong with you! - the old woman shouted making your friend look at her annoyed and after her firm indication and walking as a team to pick it up the 5 of them returned to their position - don't fail, please girl!

We trust you… calm down, take a breath and throw it, you'll do well - Your new best friend looked at you smiling lightly giving you courage.

A sigh again, a fixed look at the rock and after throwing it it fell with a blow.

Everyone screamed, applauded and so on again until reaching the final task ''Team 2, you have completed your tasks'' you had never been so happy to hear that spooky voice on the speaker and once the guards untied your ankles they all ran screaming and laughing to the fence that separated you from the rest of the players, you could finally return to the dormitory and finally had survived another day.

Everyone was happy, so much so that all of you were jumping and screaming with excitement, your friend, the tall girl ran to you without wasting a second surrounding you with her strong arms making you spin in the air while both of you laughed

We did it, I told you, we did it right - she laughed jumping with you still in her arms making you scream when you felt the air on your face and your legs hanging in the air

Now, stop it, you're going to make her dizzy - the old woman laughed patting her back as a sign that it was enough until you heard gunshots in the distance again making the team erase their smile and remember the horrible place where they were

Come on let's sit down - her hand slowly and carefully took yours walking towards the bed shelves climbing up and sitting on the steps - are you okay?

Yes… I'm pretty well, thanks for helping me - you smiled rubbing your hands on your legs nervously

By the way, my name is Cho Hyun-Ju… are you? - she looked at you curiously

Y/N… my name is Y/N - you smiled shyly at her

You have a very pretty name - she smiled back shyly with her cheeks slightly tinted - thanks for letting me join you in the game you were the only person who approached me

You don't have to thank me, I think we are both rejected for certain reasons and that makes us unique in the crowd right? it's better to be united and be stronger than alone - your cheeks felt hot, the sign that they were red like cherries

You're right..

Part 2 ✨

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Thanks for reading, this is the first episode I've written about Squid Game and it was short since I have little time to update but I didn't want to go to sleep without writing the beginning of the story, I have ideas but I'd like to hear yours and write them down, just to reinforce the theme of this story the reader and Cho Hyun-ju will possibly have a romance so if these themes aren't to you please don't read it, I know you'll find something that suits your tastes. 🫶🏻

Again, Thanks for reading, I'll be back soon!

BTW: Happy New Year everyone 🥂✨

[rin-may-1103]

Turn Back the Frozen Sands of Time. Pt3.

Previous | Master Post | Next (to be written)

Danny remained silent as he followed his mother down the winding halls. Some of her spies came and went with reports, muttering just low enough that human ears shouldn't be able to hear.

Group C was in the south wing, and Group D was finishing up with their task. Mother had something planned, which meant they were right smack dab in the middle of it. She was affected by the time travel, but whether it's she, herself, that came back or she's acting on anonymous information, is yet to be determined.

Danny glanced at Damian again, studying his brother without the pretense of their actions being his own fault.

Just like earlier, nothing seemed out of place, except for the fact that Damian was standing closer than usual. As if he were worried or guarding Danny.

Danny knew Damian loved him, just like how he loved Damian. But Danny also knew that Damian would do whatever Ra's (and Mother) told him to, blindly trusting the man with their lives. (Literally, if his first death wasn't evident enough.) So, obviously, he's worried about Danny, and acting as if he knows Danny's in danger, but from whom and what is unclear.

Mother stopped to converse with another spy, hurriedly ordering them to do something in code just loud enough for both of them to hear. Damian's brows furrowed, but he didn't seem to understand the order either.

ok, think Danyal; Mother is frantic. She's never frantic; the only reasonable explanation was that she knew something, something she feared and was trying to prevent.

Whatever she knows, Damian has been informed of, but Danny hasn't. She's trusting Damian to follow her orders without argument, which they all know he will. But, she's not trusting Danny with knowing the situation; most likely because she believes he'll react irrationally.

Second, whatever, or whoever, caused this didn't do it because of Danny. In fact, they probably didn't even know he was here, or existed. Which meant an outsider, someone not of the league, was involved. (Was it Father? Batman does have quite a few interesting rogues, but what do they have to do with the league?)

which means Danny's existence here, in the past, is an accident.

ok, how can he use this to his advantage?

"Damian," Danny whispered, glancing at another spy rushing up to Mother and hurriedly whispering orders and reports.

Damian hummed, glancing back down the halls with tense shoulders. Yep, he definitely knew something was going on, and he did not like it.

The best way to get information out of people was to catch them off guard and keep them off balance. Best way to do that for Damian? go back and forth between acting normal and completely different. Oh, and doing the most obvious thing first is usually the least expected.

"Mother wouldn't happen to be planning on confronting grandfather, would she?" Danny asked, casually, studying an empty hall. (he remembered spying on her, overhearing her slowly start to question grandfather and what he stood for. It was only a matter of time before she tried to fight him. He just needed to know what was forcing her to do it before she was ready. Before Danny is supposed to die.)

Damian tensed, whirling back to face Danny like he'd been struck, "What?"

"We both know she's been questioning Grandfather for a while now, so it's not surprising that she's trying to usurp him. What I'm confused about is how rushed and..." Danny glanced at Mother, watching as she closed her eyes for just a moment before ordering her people again. "Frantic, she's acting."

Damian blinked at him, his eyes sharpening to study Danny closely. Now to put his acting skills to the true test.

Turning to Damian, Danny kept his body language open. Standing to attention, ready for a quick order from Mother, but nervously fiddling with his hidden knives, and eyes glancing around like he was scared Grandfather would jump out and attack them at any moment. Confusion on why the two of them are acting weird, but not confused enough to make his knowledge of Mother's plans suspicious.

He was Danyal Al Ghul, a Nine-year-old assassin, just pulled from his daily classes with no idea why; Because honestly, what could Mother possibly need both him and Damian for if she's planning on usurping Grandfather?

Damian glanced away, trying to figure out what he could and couldn't tell Danny. Mother most likely ordered him not to (due to his possible irrational actions), but Danny just revealed he knew and is fine with Mother's plans, which means he's not acting as they expected him to.

"Look," Damian started, watching Mother for a moment, before stepping closer to whisper, "I can't tell you right now, there's too much at risk and I need more time to lay it all out without making it confusing. but essentially," he glanced away, this time down a hall, he was lying then, "Mother was informed of some plans that put both of us in danger. Our job is to do as we're told and stay alive."

"Ok," Danny agreed, simply stepping back and turning to watch Mother again. Damian blinked at him in slight confusion, before his eyes widened like he had just realized something, and he turned back to face Mother.

Danny's old plans to be underestimated hadn't worked before, and they'll likely not work now. Which means he only had a limited amount of time to be underestimated before people caught on.

Damian knew him best; he's likely to have already caught on based on the fact that he just looked like he realised Danny tricked him into telling him more than he was supposed to. (It didn't confirm much, just the fact that whatever happened, put them in danger, but also didn't reveal that he's supposed to die in three days. interesting)

which was technically the plan, Danyal wouldn't have questioned anything, Danyal was loyal and didn't question orders. Danny just used one of the most obvious manipulation tactics he's been taught, and it only worked because of Danyal's established personality. Damian is sure to be suspicious of danny's actions from here on out.

Mother was the next most likely to catch on, and considering she knows he's snuck down into the caves to study the language, she already knows something's up. She'll keep a close eye on his movements from now on.

"Confirmation, Ra's is in the caves, but he has more guards than normal. We don't have enough people to take them out, without notifying him of your plans." Spy 1 reported, bowing to mother and waiting for her orders.

Mother's jaw tensed, her nails biting into her palms as she nervously recalculated. If Grandfather hasn't caught on to how strange she's been acting yet, that means he's been down in the cave for a while.

For either of two reasons, one, so he can verbally lay out his plans and evaluate if they actually make sense (which he does quite often, saying something out loud helps a surprising amount when you get stuck on something mentally).

Or two, for a 'ritual'. Or, in other words, taking a dip in the nasty death slime. Whether it's him or someone else is up in the air.

Cool, so now Danny has to help Mother before she gets the three of them killed, because that's exactly what she's doing by rushing into things. Hopefully, Ra's will be caught by surprise long enough for this to work.

"I can get us in," Danny offered, tilting his head innocently to the side. Mother turned sharply and stared at him, calculating if he was being honest. She glanced at Damian with a brow raised. Damian nodded his head, quickly signing later to hold off having to explain.

Sighing, Mother straightened up and nodded her head, "Lead the way."

And wow, Danny was honestly expecting her to put up more of a fight than that. But as the saying goes, don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

Nodding his head back, Danny turned and silently marched down the hall to their left. "I found an entrance a while ago, it hasn't been used in years. If grandfather knows of it, he hasn't deemed it necessary to watch. There are no guards on it like the others. Watch your feet, the ground is very loose."

letting his nine-year-old instincts take over, Danny quietly led the growing group down the halls and into a room. The others stopped, glancing around like they'd never known of the room's existence, which maybe they hadn't. Danyal hadn't run into much of anyone while down here.

Casually, making his way to the back, Danny grabbed a specific book and then two others, making sure to use the correct order. A sharp click, then the sound of old gears filled the room. The others tensed, on high alert at the loud sound.

"Don't worry, the natural twists and turns of the passage muffle the sounds. He'll be none the wiser of our presence," Danny rolled his eyes, gesturing for Mother to go first.

"Follow the marked path, it leads to an opening right above the main chamber. Grandfather never looks up, not unless he's the one in the pit. If he is, you'll have to wait for him to get out before you're safe to move from the shadows."

"How long, exactly, have you been using this entrance?" Mother demanded, frowning down at him.

Danny glanced away, sheepishly picking his nails, "a while."

"Right," she huffed, turning and moving into the tunnel.

Turning, Danny held out his hand for his brother. He had a feeling things were about to get crazy, or crazier than it was right now, at least. He'll just have to use this time to be as close to his brother as he can. (he still really wants to punch him, though; it's the least he deserves for killing him.)

Danny wasn't sure what was going on, or how long he'll be stuck in the past before Clockwork inevitably finds him (and he will, Clockwork would have warned him if this was supposed to happen. the fact he hadn't? Meant nothing good, but he trusted his mentor, he'd find Danny. He always did.) but he'd survive, he'd be fine.

Damian reached out and took his hand, turning to pull Danny down the tunnel with tense shoulders.

Danny squeezed his twin's hand, getting a squeeze back a moment later.

[feeder86]

Lust, Lies and Legacies

It was instant, that heart-thumping moment when Danny first set eyes on Nial’s new boyfriend. He’d heard about the guy several times from his housemate, alongside a detailed run-through of each of their dates so far. Hell, he’d even seen a couple of pictures on Nial’s cell phone, but nothing could have prepared him for that feeling when he first opened the door to him that one evening after work. 

“You must be Danny?” the handsome man asked, standing at the door, waiting to come in. “I’m Ted; Nial’s…” “Yes!” Danny shot back, needing no explanation and immediately stepping back from the threshold to allow the man inside. So breathtakingly tall and naturally broad, Ted breezed by; the scent of his aftershave causing butterflies to flutter in Danny’s stomach. “You know that Nial won’t be back from work for another half an hour or so?” he asked the impossibly good-looking man standing in the hallway with him. 

Ted shrugged. “I know,” he nodded. “Nial told me to come over anyway. He said you’d be here to let me in. I usually go to the gym after work but, half an hour isn’t really enough time to get stuck in.”

Danny made the man feel welcome, sitting him down in their lounge area and pouring him some coffee. Like his mother before him, Danny knew how to be hospitable to guests and soon had Ted talking all about himself. He heard about his family and education, his career and even his ex-boyfriends, of which there were surprisingly few. The boy had such kind eyes, Danny thought to himself, getting lost within them. Despite his imposing, giant, muscular build, he spoke so calmly and softly, like the genuinely nice guy he appeared to be.

“Sorry,” Ted chuckled, realising the time as Nial began unlocking the front door behind him. “I’ve just talked at you for the last thirty minutes. I’m not usually this chatty.”  It was obvious that he felt quite relaxed in Danny’s company and, perhaps, even a little disappointed that he wouldn’t get the chance to have a second mug of his special coffee.

For Danny, he sighed, realising that Nial would soon do what he did with all his boyfriends and sweep Ted away to his bedroom. He felt a pang of jealousy as he saw Nial embrace him and kiss him gently on the mouth. Nial was as handsome as they came, but it was obvious that Ted was far too sweet for him. There was an innocence and wholesomeness about the man that Danny had fallen for straight away. It broke his heart to imagine him getting mixed up with a guy like Nial.

“What did you think?” Nial asked a few hours later, after Ted had gone home. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? A proper hunk! He played football in college, y’know.”

Danny nodded. Ted’s impeccable physique had not evaded his attention. “He’s a really great guy,” he conceded.

“And he’ll fatten up a treat!” Nial continued, smirking as he saw the future mapped out in his head. “You should see how much he can eat!” he swooned. “If I just keep putting him off from going to the gym, I’ll have more than a few extra pounds on him in no time. He’s in that perfect sweet spot after finishing college last year and no longer playing football: the appetite of an athlete, without the exercise. Excess calories can pile up with ease!”

On paper, Danny and his housemate had relatively little in common. That was, apart from their shared appreciation of significantly larger guys. The theory of how Nial operated, seducing his lovers and then tweaking their diets to quietly fatten them up, had excited Danny at first. However, the reality had made him feel more than a little guilty. He’d moved in six months ago and witnessed Nial taking his ex from ‘chubby’ to really quite significantly overweight, before they ended things. And his ex had just been one of several innocent victims Nial had sunk his claws into over the years. Whatever this guy did with these boys, it apparently never failed to work.

“This’ll be the first time you’ll see me fattening a guy from scratch!” Nial grinned, clearly excited by the many weeks and months of work ahead. “You’re going to love it. Those first fifty pounds of blubber are always the sweetest!”

“I’m not sure Ted’s really the right sort of man for that,” Danny began nervously. “He’s so sweet. He doesn’t really deserve…”

Nial simply laughed. “The sweet ones are always the easiest prey!” he shot back. “You’ve seen him. He’s going to look so fucking hot when I push a proper gut out on him. Just imagine that handsome face framed by a delicious double chin!”

Danny mumbled nervously. There was so much he wanted to say to Nial, but given the fact that Nial’s family owned the house they shared, the balance of power didn’t always seem equal. More than once, Nial had threatened to throw him out after a relatively minor disagreement. Cheap rooms in this part of the city were incredibly rare. If he wanted to keep a roof over his head, it wouldn’t do to challenge Nial. And so, if Danny was going to protect Ted in the way he felt compelled to do, he would have to be smarter about it.

There wasn’t anything particularly smart about Danny’s plan. It had been sheer dumb luck that the massive container of diet pills his mother had given up on just so happened to be the exact same shape and size as the appetite enhancers he knew Nial used to ensure his lovers overate. Swapping them had been simple; his scheming unnoticed. However, it meant that when Ted would come over after his work, Danny could at least look him in the eye, knowing that he was trying to do some good for him.

“That looks incredible!” Ted gasped, seeing the immaculately decorated cake Danny had prepared for his sister’s engagement party that weekend. “I had no idea you were so talented!”

Danny blushed. He was quite pleased with how it had turned out, but the way Ted looked at him with such awe made him squirm with embarrassment. Surely Ted would be able to tell how quietly smitten he was by him just from the way he fell to pieces whenever the slightest bit of praise was sent his way. “It’s nothing,” he shrugged.

Ted leaned down and smelt the frosting. “It’s incredible!” he marvelled. “My mouth is literally watering! I’ve just had the most insane sweet tooth for weeks now.”

Danny looked down nervously. He knew how hard Nial had been pushing the sweet treats on Ted. It was no wonder that the guy was getting cravings for sugar. Yet there Ted stood, statuesque and unchanged; unknowingly benefitting from the diet pill’s effect to prevent fat absorption and speed up his youthful metabolism. The other morning, they’d both been embarrassed when Ted was caught strolling out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his lower half. Before that moment, Danny had been convinced that such tight and muscular six packs had only ever existed in the movies.

After Nial had arrived home, Danny returned downstairs to see that a giant slice had been cut out from the cake he had spent all day working on, now resting on a plate in Nial’s hand. Danny had gasped, open mouthed, looking angrily into Nial’s face.

“Relax! It’s just a cake!” Nial shot back irritably.”You can bake another one. I’m taking this one for Ted.”

A few seconds later, Ted came racing into the kitchen, having been presented with the cake slice by Nial and knowing exactly where it had come from. “I’m so sorry!” he called out. “I didn’t realise that Nial was going to cut a slice. I was only telling him how delicious it smelt!”

“It’s fine!” Danny replied calmly back, not wanting to upset the sweet guy. “I said Nial could cut into,” he lied, spotting Nial watching them from behind Ted’s back. “I forgot that one of my sister’s friends is gluten intolerant, so I knew I’d have to remake it.”

“You see, honey. It’s fine,” Nial cooed, rubbing his boyfriend’s large back. “Danny wants you to have that cake. So why don’t you open up and tell him what you think?”

Ted glanced down, picking the fork up from his plate. He looked to Danny one final time to ensure it really was okay, then cut and fed himself a giant section. “Mmm! That is just incredible!” he moaned. “It’s the best cake I’ve ever had!”

Danny really was delighted to hear him say that, even if it meant a long time baking again the next morning, before the party. Perhaps that was why he had always had a thing for chubbier guys in the first place: the idea of bringing them such pleasure, minus the guilt and resistance of a man who was more insistent on keeping in shape.

Victoriously, Nial smirked behind his lover. He really was good at this. So much so that, by the following morning, almost half of the entire cake had been completely consumed.

Arriving back from an all-you-can-eat banquet one evening, Nial was grinning from ear to ear as a bloated Ted was sitting, grumbling as he rubbed his swollen stomach in the living area. Pretty soon afterwards, he drifted off to sleep as Nial played one of his dull reality shows that he was well aware Ted couldn’t stand.

“Look!” Nial whispered as Danny came down for a glass of water, lifting Ted’s shirt up so that the rounded shape of the guy’s stomach could be seen. It was obvious how much the tall man must have eaten to push it out that far, almost to the limits of physics.

Danny nodded, not really knowing why Nial still insisted on showing off like he did. Danny had never encouraged his wicked tactics and had made it quite plain that he didn’t think it was fair. Nevertheless, the guy followed him into the kitchen, overcome with elation and needing to speak to someone.

“Danny, you should have seen him!” Nial marvelled. “It was absolutely grotesque how much he was eating! I was just bringing little dishes back and forth to the table and he mindlessly ate every last one of them. He’s obviously been trained to clear his plate his whole life. He can’t stand wasting food. He’s a proper pig!”

Danny winced at the word. He had never enjoyed hearing Nial use it to describe the man who was obviously so taken with him. “I’ve got my sister coming over tomorrow afternoon. Are you two going to be about?” he asked, trying to change the conversation quickly, just in case he ended up telling Nial what he really thought of his awful manners.

“You’ll have to meet your sister elsewhere,” Nial simply shot back. “It’s Sunday and I have a full day of overeating planned for Ted. I don’t want anyone getting in the way.”

“I thought Ted said you guys were off for a hike tomorrow morning?” Danny asked.

Nial chuckled at that. “I’ll be telling him that I have a migraine in the morning. We won’t be leaving the house.”

“But Ted was really looking forward to taking you up that trail,” Danny protested, always feeling nothing but sympathy for the guy. “It’s where they scattered his family dog’s ashes.”

“As if I want to spend my Sunday hearing stories about some dumb dead dog!!” Nial blasted. “I’ve got an appetite to build. Every day I can get him to eat more and more. Already, he can get down more than a man three times his size. Once I finally destroy the pig’s metabolism, I’m going to witness the most spectacular show on Earth!”

Two weeks later, and still determined to help Ted, Danny crept into Nial’s room to check on the large container he had piled high with diet pills. For over three months, oblivious Ted had been fed one after the other, helping him resist the otherwise inevitable weight gain that would have resulted from the vast quantities he was eating every day. Time and again Danny had witnessed the consumption of overwhelming portions and the decimation of everything Nial was getting in for his lover to consume. Yet, Ted still arrived each and every day looking like none of it was having even the slightest effect on him. With over half the diet pills still in the container, Danny topped it up only very slightly so as not to cause suspicion. 

Perhaps it wouldn’t be long now until Nial changed his tactics. Then all of Danny’s work would be lost and Nial would at last have his own way. It was all so inevitable. Pretty soon, Ted was going to have to fend for himself.

“You don’t like Nial all that much, do you?” Ted asked one afternoon during the sweet thirty minutes they had alone together.

“What makes you say that?” Danny asked, surprised by Ted’s bluntness as the guy roamed around the kitchen hoovering up the many stashes of snacks Nial kept in for him.

“It’s just the way you’re so guarded with him,” Ted replied thoughtfully, finally stopping to look at him.

“Is that what Nial thinks?” Danny asked, nervous for both their sakes if it was true that Nial had realised that he didn’t really like him.

“Of course not,” Ted chuckled. “Nial thinks everyone loves him. It’s part of what drew me to him in the first place: that confidence. Now, though, I sometimes feel like he doesn’t even like me. Some days, he can be so short-tempered.”

Danny nodded sympathetically. He’d noticed it too. Nial’s complete failure with Ted over the last six months had made him more irritable than he had ever seen him before. In some ways, he could understand why. Given how many calories Ted was eating in a day and how little cardio he was getting, on paper, the guy should have been piling on the weight like crazy.

“I’ve actually been thinking about moving out,” Danny admitted, checking his watch and seeing that he still had at least fifteen minutes until he needed to worry about Nial getting home and overhearing them. “I’ve been saving so much these last few months, I now have more than enough to get somewhere by myself.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” Ted asked, sensing Danny’s hesitancy. The man was so in-tune with Danny; so sensitive and astute. “Wait! You’re sticking around for my sake?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“No… I just…” Danny mumbled back, feeling suddenly like his every movement would give him away. “I just don’t feel comfortable leaving you here on your own with Nial,” he tried to reason.

“You really distrust him that much?” Ted asked now.

Danny exhaled, wondering how this conversation had gone so badly wrong so incredibly quickly. “Yeah,” he finally nodded, deciding that the truth was better than attempting a lie that Ted would immediately call him out on. “He’s not good enough for you. Not even the smallest bit. You’re so sweet and kind and thoughtful and calm. Any guy who had you should be…””

What happened next caught Danny off-guard more than any other moment in his life so far. The gorgeous Ted moved closer towards him, cupping Danny’s face in those large, masculine hands, before planting a kiss on his lips like no other Danny had ever experienced. It was followed by a rapid succession of others, more frantic, furious and passionate than the last.

Something dreadful and, at the same time, completely wonderfu,l had just happened

Danny had been the one to insist that Nial was not told. He happily relinquished his love as soon as his housemate got in, and disappeared upstairs. It was only later that he heard Nial complaining that Ted had finished with him.

“Good riddance!” Nial called out bitterly. “He couldn’t even put on a single pound in months!”

“Is that really all you care about?” Danny asked, feeling a little impatient at Nial’s one-dimensional complaints.

“Well, I was hardly with him for his scintillating conversation, was I?” Nial spat back, resurrecting his frequent complaints that he’d actually found Ted to be rather boring. “Six months I wasted on that guy… for nothing!”

Danny rolled his eyes and escaped upstairs. With Ted safely out of harm’s way, there was no need for him to hang around anymore. Already, he had found a place online that he liked the look of. Danny was moving out.

“I want to see you,” Ted had messaged Danny over the coming week. “I can’t believe how much I miss our time together each day.”

Danny had smiled broadly, hardly believing that he held such sweet words from Ted in his own hands. As much as he wanted to run straight into Ted’s arms, he knew it would be wiser and more dignified to hold back. Nial was as clever as they came. Any change in Danny’s routine and he would know that something was up. Then he’d unravel it all and make his life absolute hell, without a place to stay and no family in the city to help him out. And, the worst part was, he’d probably deserve it. Danny felt so much shame for what he had done: kissing Ted when he knew he was with someone else; ultimately causing their break-up. A little cooling-off period was definitely necessary if they truly were to make a go of things. It was best to put everything on ice for now and wait until his new apartment was ready to move into. Five more weeks, that was all. FIve more weeks and he would be free.

Nial hadn’t taken the news that he was moving out particularly well. Danny’s rent money helped to fund his disposable income and the news that his cash-flow was about to decrease had left him more than a little pissed off. As well as that, about a week after finishing with Ted, he’d started sleeping with a chubby guy, called James. The boy was nice enough, however Nial had been distraught to see that he’d actually started to drop a few pounds since they’d got together. He simply couldn’t understand it. Why, after all those years of success stories, had secretly fattening a guy become so difficult? As such, frustrated Nial became almost impossible to live with.

The two housemates weren’t really talking to each other the day Danny moved out. Nial went off to work without saying goodbye and returned home to an empty house, without so much as a forwarding address for his now former housemate. Meanwhile, Danny was grinning from ear to ear as he stroked his sparkling kitchen counter and sat himself down on the brand new couch that had arrived only an hour earlier. Tomorrow, Ted was coming over for the first time since that kiss. The buzz and excitement was almost too much to take. At long last, Danny felt like he was having an entirely fresh start.

“Hello there!” came the deep, alluringly sexy voice of Ted as he stood on the threshold, waiting to be invited in. He gazed at Danny, smiling sweetly, then stepped across to kiss him once more. “This has been the longest six weeks of my life!” he whispered, embracing him as the door swung shut behind them. 

Danny felt so consumed and safe in that hug, completely swallowed up by the big man’s giant arms. Ted was so much shorter than he was. When he held him, Danny could feel his whole, small body starting to relax, allowing himself to be delicate and fragile once more; that hard exterior he had created to get through the last few weeks of living with Nial, crumbling away. They both breathed in and exhaled with relief, perhaps not realising how deep their affection for one another had been until they were parted like this.

Holding the tall man’s hand, Danny led Ted around the apartment, room by room. The sexy man made all the right noises but he wasn’t really listening. He seemed to simply enjoy being in Danny’s company again and listening to his voice. It was something a guy had never done with Danny before, allowing himself to show how smitten he was and abandoning the ego that most men seemed to have. At the sight of Danny’s new, cosy bedroom, Ted smiled happily and kissed him once more, clearly hoping that this would be where they would spend many a happy night, lying side by side.

Pretty soon they were sitting together on the new couch, kissing yet again. Yet something felt odd about it all. Up close like this, Ted’s face was somehow…different. Danny brushed it aside, thinking that he was imagining it all. However, once their hands started to roam more freely onto each other’s bodies, he could tell for certain that Ted was not quite the man he had once been. Slipping his hand down onto Ted’s torso, Danny could feel that the boy had quietly amassed quite a few extra pounds since their kiss, only six weeks ago. When he looked down, a slight paunch was pressing against the material of Ted’s t-shirt, quite startlingly obvious in this sitting position. He kept quiet and carried on, not wanting to make Ted at all self-conscious, acting like it wasn’t even there. Their kisses were so pleasurable anyway, nothing else mattered. 

The pair chatted freely, enjoying not having to worry about anyone bursting in and spoiling their flow. This small, overpriced apartment could be their little piece of heaven; a refuge from everything outside; freedom from everyone who didn’t really matter. Ted got up and helped Danny with some of the remaining flat pack furniture that needed building, laughing as the pair of them couldn’t follow the simple instructions for gazing adoringly into the other’s eyes. How was it that Nial wasn’t completely besotted by this guy? There was such innocence behind those big eyes, his smile so broad and genuine. Even as a teenager, Danny had never felt anything so intense as this.

The pair of them had done well to control themselves up until that point. But as the light faded and Danny pulled out some romantic candles, the temptation to slip into the bedroom became all too much. With their clothes off, it was obvious how Ted had an almost complete absence of any stomach muscles whatsoever; the sides of his once tight waist now fluffy and slightly puffed out; his skin marked by the new, less flattering fit of his underwear. They made love, quite passionately, without any acknowledgement whatsoever of the rather sudden and dramatic weight gain Ted had undergone. Even as the big man thrusted, a fluttering of fresh fat was threatening to steal all of Danny’s attention.

Pleasure, joy and bliss. In that perfect hour, there were only the two of them left on the entire Earth. But as Ted got up to start getting dressed again, Danny had to wonder: just what had happened to him? How could everything Nial had been secretly trying to do to him over months and months, suddenly start happening the very moment that they broke up?

Over the course of the next few days, everything became abundantly clear to Danny. Box by box, carton by carton, Ted had destroyed almost all the meagre supplies in his new kitchen. The man was an eating machine, seeming to uphold the very bad habits that had been trained into him during his time with Nial. He’d head out to the store and return with a full tray of doughnuts that he would then stuff into himself very slowly over the following few hours, alternatively grazing on sweet and then savory snacks. Attempting to count the calories his new lover could consume in a day was near impossible. Danny had little comprehension of how much the guy was quietly eating until he went to the cupboards and noticed how bare they were. Within a further two weeks, the boy’s paunch had swollen up even more, only concealed now when Ted wore his large, warm winter jacket. A more generous bounce and flutter of the stomach began not long afterwards and it became more than apparent how much Ted’s underwear in particular were pinching him.

Although Danny hated to admit his own responsibility, he had to accept that everything that was happening now was entirely of his own making. It was the legacy of those damned diet pills. Whilst they had definitely worked well during the time Ted was taking them, the reality was that by masking the effect of all that overeating, they’d allowed Ted to build up an appetite that was no longer easily quashed. He had been permitted to overeat and indulge in a way that had not produced the slightest consequence for months and months; all whilst quietly enabled and encouraged by a lover who did not have his best interests at heart. Indeed, sometimes, it was really rather strikingly obvious that Ted had unknowingly dated a feeder. He could get aroused alarmingly quickly after a huge boost of sugar and he seemed to think it normal to take a can of whipped cream into the bedroom and squirt it onto Danny’s body before licking every last bit up.

Perhaps Nial had told him how manly and attractive his vast appetite was, for Ted would grin proudly after consuming a particularly large meal and appeared to enjoy the feeling of being so satisfied. He wanted Danny to start baking for him and didn’t seem to think twice about consuming an entire tray of fresh cookies before they had even had the chance to cool down. Despite being the enviable college football star only two years earlier, Ted had seemed to fall into a life of surprisingly lethargic gluttony. After months of speeding up his metabolism, Ted’s whole system had seemingly crashed and he piled on the pounds with almost alarming speed. Once the paunch had properly developed some shape to it, it seemed to become more and more extreme with each passing day. It was firm and shapely, morphing into love handles that wrapped around his middle. 

Ted, who had never been an especially vain man, took it all in his stride. He had come to accept how different his life was now that he was out on his own and working every day. He had to hold down a job at City Hall and maintain his relationship, reasoning that he didn’t really have the time to devote to the gym, as he once would have done. As such, he’d have to understand that he’d be carrying a little more weight. And if Ted’s weight was no great deal to Danny, then why should he stress about it? 

“Nial always used to say that happy folks always gain a few pounds when they’re in love.” Ted chuckled. He patted his stomach, which had recently become firmer and more tank-like than ever before. “I just happen to be very, very in love,” he teased, kissing Danny sweetly as they snuggled into the couch, ready to watch a movie.

The sex had always been amazing with Ted, but as he got heavier, his body became increasingly homely and cosy to snuggle up with. He was warm and padded, safe and relaxing. Even with the insane amount of money Danny was spending on food each week, he knew that he would never find anyone he would want to be with for the rest of his life, as he felt every single moment with Ted.

Danny didn’t know exactly when the threshold had been passed. There seemed to come a time when people were less accepting of Ted’s post-football career chunk, and more disparaging of the significant extra mass he was carrying all over his body. Thirty pounds people could cope with, but try adding sixty or more, and the overwhelming reaction of others was that of significant disapproval. Perhaps it was when Ted’s chest started to soften, away from the traditional pectoral muscles he had had for so many years.

Danny would take it surprisingly personally when he saw Ted’s friends treating him a little differently, or when his family poked fun. Some days, Ted’s mother could be deliberately frosty with Danny himself, blaming all his baking the increasing difficulties her son was having with his weight.

It appeared to frustrate people how relaxed Ted was about his chubbier physique. The guy was too practical for his own good. When his underwear or pants became too tight, he simply bought new ones. When people were unkind about his weight, he’d only shrug and roll his eyes. “What business is it of theirs?” he’d ask, quite rightly. Some days he did try to eat more sensibly, but he also didn’t lose any sleep on those other days when he had clearly overdone it. Again, Danny had to remind himself that he had no idea what Nial had quietly done during the time they had dated. For all he knew, the guy could have been streaming some hypnotic recording into Ted’s ears as he slept, reinforcing the need to overeat and helping him accept the inevitable changes that would occur as a result. Indeed, despite living with him for over a year, Nial’s actual methods still remained a complete mystery.

It seemed strange to admit, but it was easy to become blind to just how much Ted overate. The giant portions didn’t seem so extreme anymore and the casual snacking was just something Ted did. The guy was so big and tall; of course he was going to need to eat a lot more than most folks. Practically living with Danny now, the cupboards were filled with the things that the big man enjoyed and a large, ugly, reclining chair had appeared in front of the TV where Ted would park himself to play the games console that Nial had been responsible for getting him into.

“Are you really sure about Ted?” asked Danny’s mother one day, noting the way her son’s hard-earned, stylish apartment was beginning to evolve into a space that was clearly inhabited by a fat guy: the smell of stale cheese from the emptied pizza boxes still on the kitchen counter; the generous heap of sugary snacks piled up beside Ted’s chair. “I know he’s a lovely boy, but it’s quite obvious that he’s the type of person who is always going to struggle with his weight.”

Danny bristled with irritation. “Ted could weigh six hundred pounds and I’d still love him,” he answered defiantly.

His mother simply stared at the pile of fresh laundry that Danny was sorting as he tried to ignore her concerns: the new, wavy, withered waistband of Ted’s tortured underwear. “The problem is,” she sighed, “I think that’s exactly where he may end up.”

It had been almost a year since Danny had moved out of Nial’s place, yet the shadow of him loomed within his mind on a daily basis. Danny hated how he had such a wonderful relationship with Ted, yet was still having to keep this dreadful secret about everything that had really happened behind the scenes. If Danny began to explain even one small part of it all, it would be inevitable that his conscience would lead him on to detailing his own despicable part in ultimately crashing Ted’s metabolism; sending him on this journey of seemingly never-ending and remarkably rapid weight gain.

“You’ll never guess who I saw today!” Ted announced, getting in that evening and throwing off his tie.

Danny’s heart sank. He knew the day was coming and every muscle in his body tensed as he watched his lover form Nial’s name with his lips. “What did you say to him?” he asked nervously.

As was usual at this time, Ted went over to the cookie jar and began loading his hand with several treats to take back with him to his chair. “He was surprisingly chatty and friendly,” Ted beamed, pleased that they had all seemingly moved on from the hostility of that break-up.

“Did you tell him about us?” Danny asked, still hoping for a miracle.

“Yeah! And he was absolutely fine about it!” Ted nodded happily, trying to reassure his boyfriend. “He was really pleased for us. In fact, he wants to come over some time and drop off a box of your things he’s found after you moved out.”

Danny spotted the lie straight away. He had checked and double-checked every last inch of that place to ensure that absolutely nothing was left behind.“Did you give him my address?” he asked, trying to conceal the horror in his voice.

Ted nodded. “He said he’d misplaced it, so I wrote it down for him again. He seemed super keen to get back in touch with you.”

Danny nodded, smiling with his mouth despite the whirring of brain cells behind his eyes and the gentle sweat that was creeping over his body. Why had he allowed Ted to go into work in such a tight shirt today? The buttons were so stressed and tortured by the giant stomach, well underway in its construction. Of course such attire would make Ted stand out more in the crowds; it made people stare and look. Folks who may have casually walked by suddenly stopped and studied, recognising someone they used to know… Such a change would have ignited Nial’s curiosity to learn every last detail about what had happened to Ted since their break-up. Perhaps he would want him back? Maybe he thought Danny had done this to him? That this whole thing had been orchestrated since Day One?

Whatever the motives, the feeder would soon be back in all their lives. After all this time, Nial was about to find out everything.

It would have been an easy bet that Nial would arrive the very next morning, well aware that Danny would be working from home and that Ted would be out. Indeed, the guy had made it into the building without calling to be buzzed in, then knocked gently at the door, just like Mrs Lee across the hallway. Suddenly, there he was, right in front of Danny’s eyes, grinning from ear to ear.

“You know…” the guy began, strutting in without an invitation, “...people used to ask me why we were friends. You’re not interesting, particularly clever or funny…”

Danny sighed, feeling like he was only an observer in his own body; powerless to stop whatever move Nial was about to play.

“I told them!” Nial smirked. “I said to them, ‘Danny’s got a lot more about him than you realise!’ I warned them all that there was a devilish streak behind the mundane exterior. And I was absolutely right, wasn’t I?”

“What do you want, Nial?” Danny grunted, still holding the door open in the hope that he could get the guy out as soon as possible.

Nial laughed as he saw a pair of Ted’s pants draped over the back of one of the chairs. He picked them up and whistled in appreciation of their size. “”Fuck me! Look at these!” he laughed. “Looks like old Teddy-Boy has let himself go a bit! When I saw him yesterday, I could hardly believe my eyes. That stomach!” he laughed wickedly. “And the tits are beautiful by the way. I definitely need to congratulate you on those. You’ve clearly been working exceedingly hard to fatten him up.”

Danny quickly shut the door, not wanting anyone to overhear a single word. “I’m not like that!” he shot back. “I’m not like you. I never have been.”

“First of all, you stole my boyfriend from me. So don’t be playing the innocent card here!” Nial suddenly flared up; his patience evaporating. “Secondly, are you really trying to convince yourself that you’re not every bit as twisted as I am? I was thinking about it all night. I bet they hate you, don’t they? His whole family was so stuck up. I bet they despise you now you’ve done this to their little prince. He’s so tall, I bet he’s even heavier than he looks. What is he now? 350lbs? 360?”

Danny didn’t know how to reply. Yet in his silence was everything Nial needed.

“I could tell them all, you know. No one wants a feeder in the family. One phone call and this whole false world you’ve built together would come crashing down.”

“But I haven’t done anything!” Danny argued back, sensing his worst fears coming to life.

“Of course you have! Look at him! He’s a walking, talking human-pig!”

“Don’t call him that!” Danny growled.

“I’ll call him whatever the fuck I like,” Nial hit back defiantly. “He was mine long before you started to sink your claws into him. I’ll do it, y’know. I’ll tell his family everything. Ted is such a mommy’s boy, he’d end it with you the second his mother told him to.”

“Why would anyone believe a single nasty word that came out of your mouth?” Danny argued back, actually raising his voice a little, so palpable was his fury. For over a year he had had to live with the knowledge of the sordid deeds he had played his part in. It was a looming darkness that threatened to destroy the beautiful happiness that he in no way deserved.

“Because it wouldn’t be the words coming out of my mouth that they would be listening to,” Nial smirked back. He pulled out his cell phone and began scrolling back to his and Nial’s messages to each other from over two years ago, when they had first met. Back then, it had been a revelation to discover anyone else who liked their men with a little more weight on them. Danny remembered how captivated he had been by Nial at the time. It felt so freeing to be able to discuss his love of those chubbier physiques as Nial found pictures of fat guys online and sent them over for him to rate.

“He’s cute…” came the tinny recorded tones of Danny on the voice note, “...but he’d be even cuter with another fifty pounds on him.”

Nial grinned and scrolled to the next; another fat guy picture that needed rating.

“That belly is so damn hot! I just want to rub it and feed him doughnuts all through the night!” a long ago, naive Danny had said.

Triumphantly, Nial put his cell phone back in his pocket. He could have gone on for hours playing those voice notes. There would have been hundreds of them; each one more incriminating than the last.

“What do you want?” Danny sighed, knowing when he had been beaten.

Pleased to see Danny cooperating at last, Nial sat himself down and got comfortable. “I want to know how you did it. I put more effort into fattening Ted than anyone else I’ve ever dated. Then you came along and packed over one hundred pounds on him in just over a year.”

“But if I tell you, you’re just going to do it to other guys, and this whole cycle will just go on and on…”

Nial held up his hands and laughed wickedly. “You’ve got me there!” he nodded. “That is exactly what I want. I need to recreate whatever it is you’re doing with every single guy I sleep with.” 

Despite his smug appearance, Nial was clearly aware that Danny was more than a little uncomfortable by the idea. Danny had to think fast. He knew that he couldn’t tell Nial about the diet pills, no matter what. He couldn’t sink to Nial’s level and pile on even more guilt than he already felt. Instead, he headed off to the bedroom and quickly scribbled down something that he hoped would get Nial off his back, if only for a short time.

“What’s this?” Nial grunted, presented with a single, folded piece of paper.

“It’s my shake recipe,” Danny explained, having been inspired by the dusty pair of Ted’s dumbbells that lay unused by the couch. “Ted trains with weights and each time he does, I feed him this fake protein shake. It floods his body with calories and builds the appetite like you won’t believe,” he lied.

Nial looked sceptically back at him. “What, and he just continues to drink them? Even with how fat he’s clearly gotten?”

“He trusts me,” Danny shrugged, knowing that his lies were deeply flawed. But what other choice did he have?

At that, Nial smirked and slipped the paper into his back pocket, seemingly satisfied. “It’s always the quiet ones you need to watch out for!” he chuckled, almost proudly at how Danny had turned out to be so seemingly cruel and wicked. “I’ll be keeping a keen eye on you from now on. If these shakes really work as you say they do, Ted is going to keep on getting fat as fuck.”

“He will,” Danny nodded, ready to say anything that would convince Nial that he didn’t need to stick around and press him for further details. “You’ll see. I’m not lying. This recipe really does work!”

Trying to refocus back on Danny’s work after Nial left was completely impossible. In his mind, Danny tried to play out every single scenario of what could happen next. He hadn’t seen the last of Nial; of that he was certain. It was all so frustrating! This sort of drama was not what he wanted in life and he cursed himself for every wrong turn he had ever taken that had brought him here.

When Ted got home, he headed straight over to the refrigerator and began his early snacking, grunting as he parked his increasingly hefty rear in his seat and turning on his games console.

“Dinner won’t be long,” Danny smiled, handing his man a cool beer. Despite all the pleasures he took in looking after Ted so well, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all a ticking time bomb, ready to explode the moment Nial decided to light the match.

Ted and Danny had been on vacation at the time of the proposal. Unbeknownst to Danny, Ted had arranged the whole thing: the amazing tour of the island, followed by a meal at the fanciest restaurant they’d ever been to, where Ted then got down on one knee and popped the question. Of course Dany had said yes straight away. There was no part of him that even questioned his desire to be with the oversized man forever.

Despite the many miles they had travelled to be there, so much of the trip had been consumed by long hours of passion in the bedroom. The food was so readily available and Ted didn’t seem to have the slightest hang up about his weight as he strutted about with his large gut jiggling as he went. He’d dive into the pool, not realising how much of an inelegant splash he created, quietly frustrating those lounging at the side.

Upon their return home, Ted’s pants failed to close and it was obvious that a massive spike in his weight had occurred in only two short weeks. Ted’s complete descent into obesity was cemented as his hips widened and his thighs rocked with fresh lard. The previous solidness of his swollen middle had been replaced by a layer that was significantly softer and plusher. Giant love handles draped over his belt buckle and his back had broadened further as the fat from his chest now carried very heavily under his arms. And those arms of his! So large and wide, pumped full of new softness. Danny felt so safe and secure within them.

“What are the chances of bumping into you two here?” came a voice that Danny had dreaded. 

Nial suddenly sprang out at them as they strolled about at a venue they were considering for their wedding. Ted quietly huffed in disappointment. Their romantic day of visiting potential locations had been interrupted in the most unexpected way possible. 

“I hear congratulations are in order?” Nial beamed, looking from one to the other. “We’d be delighted to host your wedding here. I’m sure I can offer you very generous rates.”

Both of them were shocked to see that Nial not only worked there, but was actually managing this prestigious venue these days. They awkwardly followed along as Ted’s ex led the way through the building, giving them the big sell. His butt was so tight and handsome in those dress pants; surely Ted must be admiring it with at least a little longing?

“I can just imagine you two having your first dance here; Ted looking all handsome in his suit,” Nial smiled playfully. Was he actually doing it? Was he actually flirting with Ted right in front of Danny?

Ted squirmed awkwardly, heading off to the restroom for a quick break from it all. There was no way on Earth they would be having their wedding here if this was where Nial now worked. This had been Ted’s choice to visit here. Or had it? Now that Danny thought about it, he didn’t really know how it was that the assistant manager had come to call him up in order to arrange this appointment in the first place.

“You absolute fucking liar!” Nial laughed the moment Ted was out of earshot; the pair of them watching the man’s wide rear as he disappeared away and turned sideways in order to get through one of the doors. “Look at him! There’s no way you did that with just those shakes. I saw the pictures of you two on that vacation. You turned my Ted into pure blubber!”

“He’s not yours!” Danny growled, unable to let that one go. “I don’t want to talk about any of this now,” He sighed impatiently. He’d spent all week looking forward to today; a step towards the future, not a prison ship sailing him back into his dubious, murky past.

“There’s barely even four hundred calories in that shake recipe you wrote down. I added it all up and knew straight away that it was a load of bullshit. You’re a liar, as well as a thief!”

“I am not!” Danny argued, turning to walk into the lounge area where it was too filled with listening ears for Nial to continue trying to press this type of conversation.

“You’ve got one week,” Nial simply stated, not even attempting to chase after Danny. “You tell me what you’re doingto make him so fucking fat, or I make sure everyone knows what a kinky little freak you really are.”

Danny didn’t sleep that night. He didn’t sleep the night after either. His mind was whirring with a panicked frenzy, trying to think about how he could escape this pincer grip he felt ensnared by.

Can we talk?” Danny asked his fiance, exhausted by so little sleep that Monday evening.

Ted smiled, patting his knee for Danny to sit with him, just as they usually did. However, this time, everything Danny had to say was far too serious to discuss whilst perching on Ted’s knee. He placed himself on the edge of the couch, clearly setting Ted’s nerves on edge as he spotted the fear and panic in his lover’s eyes. “Did Nial say something on Saturday?” he asked instinctively. “You’ve been so weird since we bumped into him.”

Danny rolled his eyes. If only it had been as simple as a lone snarky comment from a jealous former friend. If only Satruday had been a genuine, coincidental reunion between old housemates and lovers. But Nial was too calculating for that.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Ted pressed, seeing that Danny would need a little nudging along in this conversation. “Nial said something to you?”

Danny exhaled. He’d practised the wording all afternoon, yet it still didn’t sound right even as it passed through his lips. “Nial seems to have it in his head that your weight gain is my fault.”

Ted chuckled. “And there was me thinking how nice he was not to comment on how fat I’ve gotten since we dated.”

“Oh, he’s noticed alright!” Danny sighed. “He wants to tell your whole family that I’m some sort of feeder.”

Ted frowned; the unusual shift seemingly sucking all joy and humour out of the conversation. He stayed quiet, waiting for Danny to elaborate.

“There’s something that happened long ago that I’ve been keeping from you,” Danny began, feeling his heart beating fast. “When you hear about it, there’s no going back. It’ll ruin everything!”

Poor Ted. He was such a nice boy. Even now he seemed genuinely heartbroken to see Danny so upset. He reached out a hand across to him, wanting to hold his hand in his and comfort him.

Danny took the large palm, but forced himself to look Ted straight in the eye. “You see… I may not be a feeder, but… it is my error that you’re so overweight. It’s all completely my fault…”

Soon afterwards, Ted pulled his hand back. Bit by bit, the entire truth came out; every last sickening detail. He stared at Danny as if seeing him for the very first time; as if he didn’t really know him at all.

Danny was extremely low for the next couple of days and in no mood to see a perky-looking Nial grinning happily at him when he opened his door one early evening. The man was holding a giant cream-filled cake in a large card box and he strolled in once again without a word of invitation. “Is Fat Boy home yet?” he asked with surprising volume.

Danny simply sighed. He didn’t care about Nial’s games anymore and he wasn’t about to give the guy the pleasure of seeing him squirm. “If you’re referring to Ted, no; I don’t know what time he’ll be back,” he replied, checking his watch and seeing that Ted was probably staying out late again, just as he had done for the last couple of nights, without letting Danny know.

“Well, call him up!” Nial insisted. “I want to see his face when I tell him what I’ve got to say.”

Danny felt a surge of anger bubbling up inside of him. Couldn’t Nial see the bedsheets by the couch where Ted had been sleeping the last couple of nights? The guy had always been so consumed by himself, without a thought to the havok that he wreaked all around him; setting his large cake on the kitchen counter as if moving the next piece on his imaginary chess board. Watching him, Danny’s face contorted in frustration as he prepared to unleash his tongue, explaining to Nial exactly how fucked up all these lies had made everything. He took in a huge breath, ready to begin, when the door suddenly opened and in walked Ted, confused to see Nial standing in their living room.

“Ah, there he is!” Nial smiled, sliding over to the big man like a slithering snake. “Danny invited me over to discuss the extra discounts we could offer on your wedding,” he lied.

Behind Nial’s back, Danny simply shook his head. Letting Ted know that this was yet another one of the guy’s lies.

“That’s… “ Ted began sounding surprisingly calm, despite all the horrible things he had now learned about his ex. “We’re actually still undecided on the wedding.” 

Feeling glum, Danny held it together in front of Nial. it wasn’t just the wedding that was in peril; his whole relationship felt like it was crumbling. However, with Nial there before them, Ted suddenly strutted over and kissed him sweetly on the head just as he always used to, until recently; perhaps trying to show some sort of united front with their mutual enemy.

“I’m guessing that you brought the cake?” Ted asked, staring down at the large cream-filled dessert that had been placed on the kitchen counter.

“I remembered that this was always your favorite!” Nial beamed back.

Ted nodded, dropping his hand into the box and ripping off a big section to eat there and then. “Absolutely!” he nodded. “I started going crazy for these sorts of treats when we were dating,” he agreed, speaking as he chewed. “That’s probably why I’m so enormous these days,” he pretended to joke, patting his fat tummy as if happy to poke fun at himself.

Inside, Danny squirmed, wondering where all this was possibly leading.

“That is some seriously good cake!,” Ted nodded, licking his fingers and happy to dive his hand back in for more.”

“Perhaps Danny will have to start making you some just like this?” Nial smirked, seeming pleased to see the fat man eating. “I remember he had some good baking skills back when we used to live together.”

“Oh, he does!” Ted chuckled. “Whatever I ask for, he whips up for me in no time.” He reached into the drawer, grabbing himself a fork before pulling out the entire cake to start attacking it alone; that whole, giant cake, without any intention of sharing. “I’m in very good hands.”

Nial looked to Danny, seemingly impressed. No man would start gorging on an entire cake, like Ted currently was, without some serious, sustained overfeeding in the past. The whole process seemed so effortless as well; forkful by forkful, the greedy man was consuming it all without even a glass of water to wash it down. 

As he ate, Ted was listing off all the amazing bakes he enjoyed most that Danny made. He spoke about it all with such enthusiasm that his giant, tank-like stomach no longer seemed so misplaced on him. The man removed his work tie, leaned over the counter, making that large gut fall out from the bottom of his stretched shirt, and continued the assault as if it was too exhausting for him to stay entirely upright. The next time he did stand up tall, he brought with him the platter that the former cake had been sitting on, scraping the entirety of the messy remains straight into his gluttonous mouth.

“I’m going to leave you guys to it,” Ted announced afterwards. “I’ll do a couple of minutes of my weights and then head into the shower.” He then turned specifically to Danny. “Honey, do you mind making up one of my protein shakes for when I’ve finished?.”

At that moment, Danny realised exactly what this whole performance had all been about. Just like that, Ted was fixing all the problems that Danny had been facing for months now. Revenge was beneath them both. A war with Nial would quickly get very messy; especially if he was going to start involving Ted’s family. It would be far easier to simply convince the guy that everything Danny had told him about the fake protein shakes was absolutely true: that Danny really was a genuine feeder and nothing more.

“Sure. I’ll have that ready for you shortly,” Danny smiled back, accepting another sweet kiss on his head from the big man before he disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door.

“Well…” Nial breathed, clearly still in shock. “I never imagined in a million years that…”

“I don’t want you coming around here anymore,” Danny jumped in impatiently. With Ted’s exit, he had passed Danny the baton to deal with Nial once and for all; to prove himself. As such, it was not an opportunity that he had any intention of wasting. 

Nial seemed taken aback by the assertiveness behind Danny’s voice.

“You’ve seen what you wanted to see. I’m not lying to you about anything. It’s time to go our separate ways. For good,” he stated without a hint of compromise.

“I actually quite enjoy seeing what a handsome chub you’re making. Ted is…”

“Mine,” Danny jumped in, unwilling to indulge Nial’s ramblings. “You had your chance and you squandered it. Jealousy is not a good look on you.”

“I’m not jealous!” Nial growled back, obviously wounded by the suggestion. “I have a whole load of future fatties I could play with whenever I want.”

“Like that hot little barman I saw you making eyes at in your work the other day?” Danny asked knowingly. “I wonder what he would have to say if I told him all the many, many tales I have about you. Shit like that spreads around a workplace like you wouldn’t believe.”

Nial stared him out for a second, before nodding. “Fine,” he spat, trying to portray an air of apathy. “I’ll leave you alone. But I’m not wrong about those protein shakes. You’d get much better results if you…”

“My results speak for themselves,” Danny hit back, opening the front door and pointing for the houseguest to leave. Nial looked as if he wanted to say something in response as he stepped through it, however the door was slammed so quickly and unceremoniously shut afterwards, there wasn’t a hope of stopping it.

Danny rested his head against the door. The blackmail was over. Yet, in its wake was a problem far worse than any other he had ever come across. It hadn’t been the diet pills that had angered Ted. Anyone could see that Danny had, in his own, slightly misguided way, been trying to help the situation. No, it had been the secrets that had disappointed Ted; the fact that this problem had been allowed to grow and fester for so long, until it had become a monster that threatened their whole relationship.

“I take it he’s gone?” came a soft voice as a shirtless Ted stepped out of the bedroom. “Problem solved?” he asked.

“He’s not coming back. No,” Danny replied, gratefully. “I’m sorry you had to eat an entire cake just to get me off the hook,” he tried to joke.

Ted smiled for the first time in days. “I actually quite enjoyed that part,” he chuckled, stepping closer. “You know what I’m like when it comes to cake.”

Danny nodded happily as Ted came close enough to embrace; that enormous, powerful, soft and cuddly body swallowing him up once more. Had he actually been forgiven?

“There is one good thing to come out of all of this,” Ted explained, stepping back slightly. “At least I know you do genuinely enjoy my body these days,” he laughed, grabbing at a huge wedge of his giant stomach.

“Oh…” Danny grinned, gazing at his man with complete awe and lust, “I absolutely do!” he nodded emphatically.

Ted smirked back, suddenly reaching down and sweeping Danny off his feet to hold him in his arms. “Good. Because now we’re getting married, this fat guy is going to be yours for life!” The pair kissed passionately, both relieved to have worked through everything. “And, to celebrate that fact, I’m going to take you into our bedroom and show you exactly what us big boys can do…” he whispered teasingly. “Then you can come out and cook me a nice, big supper, given that I’m going to be building up quite the appetite!”

“I think I can handle that!” Danny winked, kissing his huge, greedy lover once more. Then off they both went into the bedroom, closing that door firmly behind them.

[finelinevogue]

OMG imagine kit and reader begin co stars in something and people making those compilations of them that are like “____ and ____ acting like a couple for 12 minutes and seven seconds straight” 🤭🤭🤭

oh im SOOO on for this🤭✨

the compilation

summary - you and kit are secretly dating but the fans are too perceptive and make a montage of your flirtiest moments

pairing - kit connor x co-star!reader

🫧🎥🫧🎬🫧🎥🫧🎬🫧🎥🫧🎬🫧🎥🫧🎬🫧

The video started with a short video of Kit being filmed for an interview, where he had to describe his co-star.

“What do I think about Y/N in 5 words?” He asked the man behind the camera.

The reporter confirmed the question and waited for Kit to respond.

“I don’t think there’s 5 words that are good enough.” Kit mumbled to himself but the microphone attached to him picked it up.

The rest of the people in the interview room swooned, but Kit was too busy trying to come up with a good enough answer to see.

“Okay…” Kit sat up straight, ready to answer properly.

“Kind. I know it’s a basic one, but it’s just true.”

“Funny. I’ve never known someone who could make me belly laugh before Y/N.”

“Compassionate. No matter how hard Y/N’s day is, you will always be granted a hug.” Kit laughed at that one, hearing how cheesy he sounded.

“Unpredictable. I feel like that needs no explanation.”

“And….” Kit smirked then, the camera zooming in on it, as he tried to think of an appropriate thing to say last, “I’ll go with safe.”

“Safe?” An interviewer questions.

“Yeah.” Kit responded with no intention to explain himself.

Once you watched the interview you would know exactly what he meant though, because you felt just as safe with Kit as he did with you.

🌊.

The next few clips were a compilation of videos that had been secretly recorded of you two from set or from friends.

The movie you’d been filming together had been a romance, which had only magnified your relationship seeing as you’d actually met through a mutual friend; Joe.

Joe would argue that he was the reason you were together. Kit would argue that it was his charm solely that got you together. You would argue that it was a bit of both, just to keep the peace.

The first clip that played was from a day that you visited the Heartstopper set.

You, Joe and Kit were all laying in “Nick’s” bed, laughing at something that Kit had just said. It must have been ridiculously funny because the next thing that happened was you rolling off the edge of the bed and onto the floor with a thump.

Kit had rolled to try and catch you but the thump on the floor suggested otherwise. The situation only made you laugh harder.

The second clip was something from Joe’s Instagram story, where he was filming a group of you walking down the River Thames. You were hitching a ride on Kit’s back, his arms around your legs that were wrapped around his waist. Your arms dangling around his neck and your cheek pressed against his.

The third clip was on the set of your new movie together.

You were both in Kit’s trailer and practicing some lines.

“You said you didn’t care!” You shouted, playing your character Rosa.

“Well I lied. I do care.” Kit shouted back, looking from his script to your face, playing his character Oscar.

“You’re insufferable.” You groaned.

“I’m sorry that me trying to figure out my feelings for you is insufferable.”

“F-feelings?” You questioned, your voice going quieter.

“I thought I was being obvious.” Kit chuckled, “Did you not think that there might’ve been a reason I cared that you kissed Danny?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I cared because I wished you’d been kissing me instead.”

Then Kit broke character and launched himself on you, pretending to kiss you all over. You were belly laughing as Kit crushed himself over you, pushing you into the leather sofa that you’d been sitting on.

“Kit get off!” You laughed and then the video cut, leaving the viewers to question what happened next and curse whoever had decided to stop recording.

🌊.

The video then cut to an interview you’d done together and it had gone viral mainly for the way Kit had been looking at you throughout the whole thing.

It had been a normal interview and yet Kit had been feeling the extra love towards you that day, so he sat and watched you answer lovingly.

There had even been a point where he got caught, but that hadn’t worried him.

“And Kit? Your answer?” The interviewer asked.

He looked from you to the interviewer, realising he’d been asked something.

“Oh I’m so sorry. Could you repeat the question please?” He laughed it off, as did you and the interviewer.

“I was just wondering what attracted you to the role of Oscar?”

Kit hummed with a smile, forcing himself to not say your name as the answer. You nudged his shoulder to pull him out of his head.

“I think….”

🌊.

Then there was the interview where you’d been really anxious in.

It had been a rubbish day from start to finish, mainly because the anxiety weighing on your chest had been so heavy all day.

It was in an interview close to the end of the day that the small, intimate, moment came from.

“And I think that’s why we resonate–.” The interviewer was talking.

“I’m so sorry, can we stop for one moment please.” You interrupted in the most polite way you could.

“Yeah of course.” The interviewer nodded, sitting patiently.

It was not unknown that you suffered with anxiety, in fact you were pretty open about it. Why hide something that was such a huge part of you, especially when you were in a position where you could help break the stigma surrounding it.

Kit swerved his body so the cameras could no longer see you, just see his back. He knew the cameras would keep rolling and your mics would stay on, but he was trying to do whatever would be most comfortable for you.

“I’m sorry.” You could be heard saying.

Kit’s hands could be seen moving around to meet yours, both of your hands situated in your lap now. You’d often spoken out about how physical touch can ground you in these situations.

“No. Don’t be sorry.” Kit said, waiting for you to give the signal on whether he should or shouldn’t keep talking.

“Just felt a panic attack coming and I wanted to calm it before it actually came.”

Kit nodded.

“You did good. You’re doing good.”

“Thank you.” You whispered.

It was at least another three minutes before you felt okay enough to mentally return to the room. Kit turned back around in his chair, but kept ahold of your hand with his.

You apologised to the interviewer again, but she was completely fine with it and the producers had allowed her to regain her allotted interview time.

“Would you mind keeping that footage? I would quite like to share it to show that even ‘celebrities’ can feel like rubbish sometimes.” You laughed, Kit squeezing your hand in the process.

“Of course.”

“Ready?” Kit asked you once more. You nodded and the interview continued, Kit holding your hand for the rest of it and then for the rest of the day.

🌊.

The video ended the same way it began.

It was a similar interview to Kit’s, where you got asked to describe Kit in 5 words.

You couldn’t help but smile, because you love sharing the love so much - especially when it’s about your boyfriend who you care about a lot.

“Loyal. He’s so loyal to his friends and family.”

“Kind. He has so much love in his heart and he always shows it in the little moments.”

“Artistic. I don’t think he would agree, but he is.”

“Magnetic. Kit just attracts anyone and everyone to him, you can’t help but love him.”

“And one more?” The interviewer asked.

You pondered for a moment.

“Grumpy. You would not believe how much of a grump he is in a morning.” You laughed, not even thinking about the repercussions of admitting that you see Kit in the mornings.

It’s not a surprise that you’re both trending the next day and there’s a million theories about you two. Hence why the compilation video is made.

[sugarwarachan]

hot for teacher

chapter three previous

pairing: shouta aizawa x f!reader

synopsis: You’re not expecting your day to fall to pieces at 8:21 a.m., but life hasn’t really been going your way lately. A string of lackluster dates, followed by two dead vibrators (with missing cords!), and the only outlet left for your mounting sexual frustration—the smut blog you diligently update—has been discovered by the one person you never wanted to find it: fellow teacher Shouta Aizawa. Who might just be the inspiration behind most of the fantasies you post about.

chapter cws: just enough plot to keep the porn coming, hizashi and rumi being super obvious in their meddling, Shouta ‘talks you through it’ Aizawa, more dirty talk than is perhaps necessary, the filthiest fingering scene i've ever written, soft degradation, ("good little whore" 🤭) d/s elements but never explicitly stated

word count: 3k

andy's notes: AHHHHHH i know this is late thank you all for waiting so patiently!! AIZAWA IS DOWN SO BAD I AM GOING INSANE

Rays of sunlight dance across Shouta’s face as his alarm clock blares. Scrubbing a hand over one eye, he hits the clock and rolls over, burying his face into the pillow.

Holy fuck. 

He’s imagined you before. Knew you would look gorgeous spread out for him on any surface, but the reality of watching you cum, your mouth hanging open in that soft o, brow furrowed tight... He rolls his hips into the mattress in memory. Jesus Christ. If he’s not careful, he’ll have to rub one out before he can even start the day.

Shouta grabs his phone in an attempt to distract himself and immediately regrets it when he sees the text notification on the screen.

Hiz(ass)hi: signed us up for something!!!

He groans and presses call. It’s always better to find out exactly what his best friend's up to as soon as possible. 

“What did you do?” he asks as soon as he picks up.

Hizashi doesn’t miss a beat. “Check your email yet?”

“I appreciate what little work-life balance I have.”

“Well," Hizashi coughs, "then you might not entirely love the surprise I’ve got in store for you, but it involves a certain you-know-whoooooo.”

“Fucking hell.” Shouta swings out of bed and passes a hand through his hair, nerves shooting through his stomach. “I’m serious, did you do something weird?”

He logs into his email, half-listening to Hizashi's explanation that he volunteered them both as chaperones for the upcoming debate team competition and texted you straight after.

“Perfect opportunity to spend some more time together,” Hizashi sing-songs, just as Shouta clocks your 7:35 a.m. reply.

Count me in!

An image of you tucked into his side erupts in his head, hair tousled from sleep and sex, tired smile on your face. 

“You good, man?” Hizashi asks when Shouta lets the line stay silent. 

Hasn’t he been wanting this exactly? A chance to get to know you more?

Shouta heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, I’m good. Just really wish you’d sat next to someone else in high school.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be sure to include me in your wedding vows.”

Shouta huffs a laugh and clicks off the phone.

He doesn’t know much about the debate team, except that he can hear Bakugou and Midoriya arguing from clear down the hall. Toshinori acts as the team’s usual advisor, but he’s been in and out of the hospital lately.

He imagines the last thing that man needs is accompanying a rowdy group of teenagers on an overnight trip.

He scans the remaining names. Todoroki, Jiro, and Yaoyorozu should behave themselves, at least.

Shouta: How many of us are going?

Hiz(ass)hi: 4. You, me, Rumi, and Y/N. See you tomorrow, sucker!

Shouta isn’t good in relationships.

That’s what he’s always told himself, but it’s not entirely true. He’s simply more deliberate, more exacting in what he wants than the typical person. He sees no point in dating frivolously.

Which is probably why he spent so much time deciding how to approach you.

When Hizashi came to him with his suspicions about your blog, Shouta gave himself an ultimatum.

One story. One glimpse into your head.

It wouldn’t be fair to you to form an opinion based on words alone; words he hasn’t yet confirmed aren’t simply fantasy.  But the minute he reads the story, it unlocks a hunger in him that can’t be smothered.

He knows in his bones that it’s you. The intonation, the cadence; he can hear the way you talk to Rumi, the way you speak to the students.

And you’re fantasizing about someone taking care of you and fucking you stupid in ways he’s only considered in his head.

He never stood a chance.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a last-minute, hastily-put-together trip will result in at least one disaster.

The minibus slowly rolling to a stop along a country road is precisely such an event.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Shouta murmurs under his breath, resisting the urge to bang his hands in frustration on the steering wheel.

You peek over his shoulder. 

“Did we seriously run out of gas?”

He barely hears you; you smell like jasmine and vanilla, and if he’s not careful, he’ll turn around and haul you into his lap in front of everyone on this bus. 

Rumi laughs uproariously, rousing the students from their slumber. Jiro glares at her. “You had one job, Yamada, and you couldn’t manage filling up the tank?”

“It was full when we left, wasn’t it?” he shouts back at her.

Shouto, ever-dependable, is already typing into his phone. “There’s an inn up the road.”

Midoriya folds his body over the seat to get a look at the screen. “Oh! Do you think it’s close enough to this one temple I’ve been reading about?”

“Oi!” Bakugou barks, sweatshirt laid across his face. “Could we prioritize where to sleep and not whatever nerdy-ass thing you want to do?”

“Enough!” Aizawa bites out. “Watch your mouth, Bakugou, you’re still representing the school out here. All of you, go with Yamada and Usagiyama and book us rooms for the night. Y/N and I will stay here with the luggage.”

He ignores Hizashi’s smirk over your head.

“Some luck we have,” you say, digging a toe into the dirt as the two of you watch the group disappear into the fading light. “Do you imagine they’ll have enough rooms?”

For the sake of his sanity, they fucking will.

But as Shouta looks down the road at Hizashi’s retreating form, he knows for a fact that he sent the wrong pair of people ahead to deal with room arrangements.

Hizashi and Rumi return in a borrowed car and a slapped-together reason for the teachers sleeping co-ed that nearly makes him want to punch Yamada in the head. 

“You want to catch up on One Piece together,” is all you say, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

As you and Shouta pile into the back of the car, you nudge him with a shoulder. “Glad to know they’re both as subtle as a brick to the face.”

He nudges you back, not caring that he’s being just as subtle as his two conniving friends.

The backseat is small, and he’s by no means a small man. Even without the bumps in the road that keep jostling you close to him, you’re already practically in his lap. Excited anticipation sets loose in his belly. 

It’s been forever since he’s felt like this. Perhaps never, if he’s being honest. And by the time everyone is settled in for the night, he’s desperate to be alone with you.

“I hope you're clear that I’m not mad about this,” you say as soon as he shuts the door and faces the reality that it’s going to be very difficult fucking you in a way that doesn’t wake up the entire inn. 

He takes in your face and smiles. “Not mad about this, either.”

“Should we talk about, like, ground rules?”

He likes how direct you are, but he also knows that a part of you is asking to stall.

“I’m no expert, but the color system works for me if it works for you.”

You nod, foot tapping an anxious rhythm into the carpet. 

“Nothing has to happen. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” You smile softly, but there’s heat curling in the back of your eyes. “But I wanna feel what I felt the other night again. With you.”

He breathes out through his nose, and you grin like the little cocktease you are. 

Seriously, can he soundproof these rooms?

“You didn’t happen to bring that pleated skirt of yours, did you?"

 Your laugh is like honey. “I did happen to bring it. Should I wear it?”

“Please.”

“Got it, sir.”

The memory of your preferred words when you’ve acted out plays through his head as he suggests that you both wash up for the night. 

When you come back warm and soft from the bath, hair curling slightly at your temple, you stop straight in your tracks. 

Your eyes drop to his sweatpants and linger there.

“Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. “I was, umm. Noticing.”

His dick jumps.

“You are really big.” You’re suddenly in front of him, one hand on his chest, the other trailing down his belly. “You know, I think I’ve been wet since last night.”

Shouta’s not entirely sure what sound he makes.

“Yeah, baby?” He hitches your thigh up. “Been a little needy for me?”

You whimper your answer, faltering in your exploration of his happy trail as he rubs the pad of his fingers along your creamy slit. Your underwear is soaked through.

“I feel like I’m losing my mind a little. Like I can’t get enough.” 

“I can tell. You’re shakin’ just from this.” He pulls your panties to the side and sucks in a breath. “Oh, sweetheart. This little cunt of yours is practically drooling.”

Ignoring your little squeak, he scoops you in his arms and carries you to the bed, folding your legs on either side of his thighs. 

“Have you ever been this wet for someone else?” He doesn’t know where the question comes from, when the possession grabs hold. He cups your pussy, one hand tight on your waist. 

“No, never,” you breathe out, rolling your pelvis forward into the heel of his hand, and then you frown, bottom lip jutting out in what he knows is embarrassment. “I’ve never even cum while being fingered.” You lean forward, resting your arms around his neck. “I always thought there was something wrong with me.”

Oh.

He stills. “You trust me, sweetheart?”

You nod, a mixture of eagerness and apprehension that makes his chest squeeze. 

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for good?”

You wave a hand. “Yes, yes, I know all that.”

He raises a brow, but decides he can address your tone later. One problem at a time. 

“Lay over my lap, y/n.” 

You arrange yourself accordingly, brushing your tits against his thigh as you do so. His palm twitches. 

“We’re gonna have a little lesson, sweetheart.” He caresses the back of your thighs. Your breath hitches. “Spread your knees wider, there you go. Lift your ass up for me, too, can you do that?”

Before he gives you time to think, he flips the fabric of your skirt over your hips and lands a crack on your ass. You squeal, fingers tight in the bedsheets.

“oh my fuck oh my fuck, harder,” you keen, thrusting your ass back at his palm.

Shouta bites down on his lip hard just to maintain some semblance of reason.

You’re fucking made for him.

“Did you say there was something wrong with you?”

Another smack makes the meat of your ass jiggle. You muffle the sound you make in the sheets beneath you and Shouta frowns.

“Nah ah, baby.” He lifts your chin up. “Let me hear you, huh? Can already tell you like being punished.”

“But our students might hear us, Shou,” you say, squirming in his lap. The nickname steals his breath. “I don’t want to be embarrassed like that.”

“Like that?” He raises an eyebrow and laughs softly when you rebury your face into the mattress. “We'll talk about that later, huh? But you’re right. Good thinking, sweetheart.”

Even that simple amount of praise makes your eyes glaze over. He doesn’t know if you fully understand how long he’s wanted someone to place their trust in him like this

“Grab the pillow, and use that to help stay quiet,” he directs you. “No one but me will hear you this time, okay?”

“Thank you.” You twist on your forearms to smile at him. “I know we do a lot of stopping and starting. Thanks for being cool about that, too.”

He has no idea what kind of scumbags have mistreated you before, but he’s happy to erase their influence on you however he can.

“Stopping and starting is par for the course.” He motions for you to sit up. “Should have done this first anyway.”

Shouta’s never been one to wax poetic, but the moment he presses his mouth to yours, he’s a goner. Your hands tangle in his hair and tug, demanding greater access. He grants it, grinning like a fool while you lick your way into his mouth.

“Stop smiling.” You pull away with a mock huff, but you’re smiling, too, and you don’t look annoyed in the slightest. “It makes it hard to kiss you.”

“We were in the middle of something.”

Your eyes gleam. “Are you gonna spank me again?”

He pulls you to him as a chuckle rumbles out of his chest. He cradles the back of your head and caresses the slim bit of skin exposed above your skirt. “Eager?”

You sigh and press your face into his neck. “Very.”

“Take your clothes off, then, and get back on my lap. Keep the skirt on.”

Shouta flips up the fabric again, massaging the exposed skin when you wriggle. The tips of his fingers brush dangerously close to your slit, and you drop your hips to chase the sensation.

“Ass up, sweetheart.” He jiggles his leg under you. “And answer my question.”

“Yes, yes.” A spark of irritation colors your tone. “I said there was something wrong with me.”

“Still believe that?” He finally touches you, knuckles sliding through your gummy folds, savoring the way your back bows at his touch. You’re soaking and trembling from this alone. “Your thighs are wet, honey. I’m pretty sure you’ll cum around my finger the second I slip it in.”

“Oh god.” Your voice is a reedy little gasp, high with embarrassment. 

He sees the mirror across from you on the wall, and an idea sparks. Rearranging you on his lap, he spreads your legs wide and grabs your chin, directing your gaze to where your cunt drools arousal all over his lap. 

“There’s nothing wrong with this slutty pussy of mine, is there, baby?”

The hitch in your breath is reward enough. A slow smile spreads across his face as you shake your head.

“That’s exactly right, honey. Nothing wrong with my girl.” 

He teases your hole with the tip of his fingers. You shudder in his arms, keeping your eyes locked on his in the mirror.

“You think I don’t like seeing how good I’m makin’ you feel?” 

This entire time his cock has been leaking pre and throbbing against the side of his leg. There’s no rush, he knows, because watching you like this will probably have him spilling in his briefs anyway.

He slides a finger up to the knuckle, plugging you up tight. Your eyes roll back in your head when he rolls his thumb over your swollen bud. 

"What’s wrong, sweetheart? That bratty tone from earlier gone already?” 

He adds another finger, the hand on your waist holding you still as you keep squirming. A feral part of him knows exactly how deep his cock is going to be inside you as he presses down on your lower belly.  

“Maybe you’ve never cum like this before because no one’s given you what you needed. Ever think of that, sweetheart?” His gaze scorches you in the reflection. “No one knows how much you like your cunt stuffed up tight. Little whore likes being used a bit roughly, doesn’t she?”

The sound you make is sinful, a shuddering sigh of happiness and arousal that momentarily stops his breath. 

“Please, Shouta.” You’re doing your best to be quiet, but he’s not making it easy on you. You fall into a prayer of pleas as he dangles you over the edge for just a little bit longer, the litany of praise and degradation sparking such headiness in your eyes he’s half-afraid he won’t be able to stop. 

“Keep your eyes on us. There’s my girl.” He ruts his dick against your ass, groaning into your neck. “Can’t wait to sink inside you, honey. Gonna remold this fucking pussy to the shape of me.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s saying at this point. He needs to see you cum, needs to feel your arousal drip all over his hands.

“Let me see it, baby, let me see how much you like being my good little whore.”

He slaps a hand over your mouth just as you shatter around him, swallowing the majority of your keening wail by pressing your face into the side of his neck.  

You go boneless and soft after you cum, limp in his arms and nuzzling into his chest like you belong there. 

“Gonna go clean us up,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. You hum in response, falling back on the mattress. 

He cleans you slowly, gently, and offers you one of his t-shirts to sleep in. You pat the space next to you, and he crawls in instantly, tucking you into his side. 

“I didn’t know it could feel like that.” You look up into his eyes, happiness radiating out of yours. “Thank you, Shouta.”

As your breathing slows and you fall asleep, Shouta realizes that, truthfully, he didn’t know it could feel like that, either. 

taglist: @phaticserpent, @magidzi, @hotlosergirl17, @luckybibucky, @heyithinkilike, @getoisinnocent, @personally4runa, @kennys-partner, @geektastic84, @bakery-angel, @constanttea, @aryuunachigiri, @sskorvid, @therefore-evermore, @one-scarred-mofo, @food4dead, @alphabetsoupyum, @cielito--lindo, @rentheannihilator, @juiceeypeach, @imastorytelleritsondvd, @ivydoesit23, @anotherfuckedupdayinthelifeofme, @deputy-azor, @ibby-miyoshi-nerd, @h3rmit-purrrrple420, @lousypotatoes, @hisbitch101, @greedygobbo, @ginevraxrogers, @alucardsdaddyissues, @minminroie, @honeyoru, @gothsquash, @aldebrana, @yansfanficwritings, @babypeapoddd, @fashionably-a-hippie, @junehasnotbeenfound, @citruki, @bitch-spaghetti-o

ONE LAST NOTE: If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know! I hope you enjoy this, I had a lot of fun writing it. Next chapter is the two of them being freaky and nasty and horny and fucking like bunnies

[ilovemarvel97]

Until You Touched Me

Elizabeth Olsen x G!P Reader

Summary: After a month of teasing, Lizzie finally confronts Y/N about why they haven’t taken the next step.

Word Count: 7,346

Request: Yes

Warnings: fluff, smut, (18+), insecurities.

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

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****: Smut Alert

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It had been a month since they made things official.

One month of soft good mornings and sleepy goodnights. One month of tangled limbs during weekend movie marathons and shared meals at half-finished kitchen tables. One month of holding hands beneath tables, secret smiles across crowded rooms, and kisses that grew deeper every time they lingered in the shadows just long enough to breathe each other in.

But not once had they crossed the line they were both circling.

And it wasn’t from lack of want — God, no.

The tension between them was like a live wire humming under skin. Magnetic. Constant. Dangerous in the best way.

And yet, every time they kissed — deeply, breathlessly, hungrily — and Lizzie let her hands wander, let her hips shift closer, Y/N would still pull back. Still catch her breath and rest her forehead against Lizzie’s, chest rising and falling like she was steadying herself.

“We should stop,” she’d whisper. And it always left Lizzie aching.

Worse than the ache was the confusion. Because it wasn’t like Y/N had ever hidden herself. Not from Lizzie. Not from anyone, really.

She was out. Proud. Honest. The world knew Y/N was intersex — and she didn’t soften it for anyone. Not in her lyrics. Not in her interviews. Not in her clothes.

And definitely not with Lizzie.

She never shied away from walking around in just a tank and boxers, her curves and the natural weight between her legs obvious — even when she knew Lizzie was looking. Even when she smirked as Lizzie looked, once.

Y/N was all soft cotton and heat and boldness, and Lizzie loved every part of her for it.

So it wasn’t modesty. And it wasn’t shame.

Which left only one other explanation — and it was driving Lizzie insane.

Because she wanted her. Badly.

Not just her body — though yes, desperately — but her. Every messy, thoughtful, scarred, sweet, funny inch of her. She wanted to worship her, learn her, love her fully.

And yet here they were. Still circling. Still stuck in this beautiful, frustrating dance.

That night, they were curled together on Wanda’s couch. Lizzie was tucked under her arm, one leg over Y/N’s thigh, their bodies pressed from hip to shoulder. The end credits of some old rom-com were rolling on the screen. Neither of them moved to turn it off.

Y/N’s fingers traced lazy patterns on the inside of Lizzie’s thigh. Casual. Thoughtless.

But Lizzie wasn’t feeling casual at all.

She turned slightly, watching Y/N’s profile in the flickering blue light.

“Can I ask you something?” Lizzie said quietly.

Y/N looked down, surprised at the shift in tone. “Of course.”

“But really answer me this time, okay?” Lizzie added gently. “No jokes. No changing the subject.”

Y/N straightened just a bit, the playful curve of her lips fading. “Okay. What is it?”

Lizzie took a breath. “Why haven’t you… made a move? I mean, really made a move?”

Y/N blinked.

Lizzie kept going, her voice soft but steady. “I know you want me. I feel it when we kiss. I feel it when you stop. And I know you’ve had a boner the last three times we made out—”

Y/N immediately groaned, dropping her head back with a hand over her eyes. “Jesus.”

Lizzie laughed — flustered but bold. “Don’t ‘Jesus’ me! You think I don’t notice? I’m literally straddling your thigh half the time and you still try to play it off like we’re in a PG-13 movie!”

Y/N dragged a hand down her face. “It’s not because I don’t want you.”

“I know that,” Lizzie said, then softened. “That’s why it’s driving me crazy. So if you’re not nervous about me, and you’re not uncomfortable with you… then what is it?”

There was a long pause.

Y/N sat up straighter, disentangling herself gently, like she needed room to think. She rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding Lizzie’s eyes for a moment.

Then finally, she spoke.

“I’ve had people tell me they were okay with everything,” she said. “That they loved how open I was, how different I was. But the second things got real, they flinched. Or hesitated. Or asked questions that made it clear they’d never really thought it through.”

Lizzie watched her. Silent. Heart squeezing.

“I’ve had people sleep with me because they were curious,” Y/N said, her voice quieter now. “And people who backed out halfway because they thought they were ready… but weren’t.”

She finally looked at Lizzie again. “But you — you’re different. You don’t treat me like some novelty. You don’t pretend you’re not looking at me. You look at me like you see me.”

“I do,” Lizzie whispered.

“And that scares the hell out of me,” Y/N admitted. “Because I want you so much I can barely think straight, and the last thing I want to do is make you feel like you have to want me back in the same way. I’ve waited my whole life to be seen like this — and I just don’t want to rush it and ruin what we have.”

Lizzie leaned forward, took Y/N’s hand.

“I want you,” she said, slowly and clearly. “I’m not confused. I’m not experimenting. I don’t just want your hands on me, I want you. All of you.”

Y/N’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard.

Lizzie leaned in, kissed her — soft and steady, and sure. Her fingers brushed the curve of Y/N’s neck, her other hand finding the waistband of those damn boxers that had been haunting her thoughts for weeks.

Y/N’s breath hitched the moment Lizzie’s fingers dipped just under the hem, not fully touching — just there. A silent question wrapped in a feather-light caress.

Y/N didn’t stop her.

That was new.

And that was all Lizzie needed.

The next kiss wasn’t soft. It was hungry — weeks of slow-burning tension snapping like a live wire. She climbed into Y/N’s lap without thinking, thighs straddling her, hands in her hair as she tilted her head and deepened the kiss until they were both breathless.

Y/N’s hands settled on Lizzie’s hips, squeezing, grounding them both — but she didn’t pull away. This time, she held on.

Lizzie gasped against her mouth when their hips met — the hard line pressing beneath those boxers unmistakable. She rocked once, experimentally, and Y/N let out a low, helpless sound that shot straight through her.

“God,” Y/N muttered, her hands flexing on Lizzie’s waist. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“You’ve been killing me for weeks,” Lizzie breathed, dragging her lips down Y/N’s jaw, her neck. “Walking around in your boxers. Teasing me without even realizing.”

“Oh, I realized,” Y/N said hoarsely, tipping her head back when Lizzie kissed beneath her ear. “I realized every damn time you looked at me like you wanted to devour me.”

Lizzie hummed, her hand finally slipping under the waistband, just enough to trace the edge of skin, the heat. She wasn’t rushing — she wanted Y/N to feel everything. To feel wanted in every way.

“I meant what I said,” Lizzie whispered, lifting her head to meet her eyes again. “I want all of you. If you want me too… we don’t have to wait anymore.”

Y/N’s eyes searched hers, like she was double-checking that this was real. That Lizzie still saw her. Still wanted her — now more than ever.

She did.

And Y/N finally nodded. Slowly. Breathlessly. “Okay.”

Lizzie kissed her again — deeper, slower now — and the world narrowed to just them: the warmth of shared breath, the heat between them, the feel of hands exploring without fear.

No shame. No hesitation.

Just them.

****

Y/N’s hands, previously grounding Lizzie, now moved with a purpose that sent shivers through Lizzie’s core. One hand curved around Lizzie’s lower back, pulling her even closer until there was no space left between them. The other found the hem of Lizzie’s shirt, slowly, deliberately, as the kiss deepened.

It was a languid, knowing kiss, no longer frantic but laced with a profound promise. Y/N tasted like desire and relief, and Lizzie drowned in it, her own body humming with a reciprocal wanting. As Y/N’s fingers traced the skin beneath the fabric, Lizzie arched into the touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

With a final, lingering brush of her thumb against Lizzie’s spine, Y/N broke the kiss, just enough to gaze into Lizzie’s eyes. There was a raw, unshielded intensity there that made Lizzie’s breath hitch. A silent question, a shared understanding.

"Okay," Y/N whispered again, the word a soft exhalation of acceptance. Her eyes flickered to Lizzie’s shirt, then back to her face, seeking confirmation.

Lizzie simply nodded, her own gaze unwavering, her hands still tangled in Y/N’s hair. The unspoken permission hung in the air, thick and sweet.

Y/N’s hands moved then, with a confident grace that stole Lizzie’s breath. One hand remained at Lizzie’s back, supporting her as the other deftly peeled away the fabric of her shirt, sliding it up and over her head. The cool air on her skin, followed by the immediate warmth of Y/N’s gaze, was an intoxicating contrast.

Lizzie’s shirt landed with a soft rustle on the floor beside the couch. As Y/N’s eyes swept over her, a slow, appreciative smile curved her lips. It was a look that wasn’t just about physical attraction, but about genuine adoration, and it made Lizzie feel utterly beautiful, utterly seen.

Y/N leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Lizzie’s bare shoulder, then another to the sensitive skin just beneath her collarbone. Each touch was deliberate, worshipful. Lizzie shivered, her fingers tightening their grip on Y/N’s hair, silently urging her on.

"You're incredible," Y/N murmured against her skin, her voice rough with emotion.

With a gentle shift, Y/N adjusted their position, one hand sliding under Lizzie’s thigh, the other still at her back. Slowly, carefully, she began to ease Lizzie off her lap and onto the cushions of the couch. Lizzie helped, shifting her weight, her eyes locked on Y/N’s, never breaking the connection.

In moments, Lizzie was lying on the soft cushions, the lingering warmth of Y/N’s body still radiating around her. Y/N hovered above her, propped on her forearms, her gaze unwavering, her hair falling forward to frame her face. The blue light from the television cast long, dancing shadows across their forms, making the moment feel both intimate and otherworldly.

Y/N’s fingers, now free, drifted to Lizzie’s waist, tracing the curve of her hip, then sliding upward, brushing against her ribs, teasingly close to the swell of her breast. Lizzie gasped, a small, involuntary sound, and arched into the touch, her desire a palpable ache.

"Are you still okay?" Y/N asked, her voice a low rumble, her eyes searching Lizzie’s for any sign of hesitation. The question was soft, but the depth of concern in her gaze was profound.

"More than okay," Lizzie breathed, her voice a little shaky, but firm. She reached up, pulling Y/N’s head down for another kiss, this one a sweet promise of everything that was to come. Their lips met, soft at first, then deepening, a symphony of unspoken words and long-held desires finally being unleashed.

Y/N's lips left Lizzie's, trailing a path of fire down her jawline, across her collarbone, and finally settling just above her breast, where her breath hitched with every rapid beat of Lizzie’s heart.

Lizzie’s hands, no longer just in Y/N’s hair, moved to her shoulders, gripping the soft fabric of her shirt, feeling the lean muscle beneath.

The scent of Y/N’s skin—a clean, warm musk with a hint of something sweet—filled Lizzie’s senses, mixing with the heady aroma of their shared desire. She could feel the steady press of Y/N’s body above her, the hard line of her cock still distinct beneath her boxers.

Y/N lifted her head slightly, her eyes dark and intense, a question still lingering there despite Lizzie’s earlier affirmation. "Are you sure?" she murmured, her voice a low, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down Lizzie’s spine. It wasn't a question of consent, but of emotional readiness, a deep-seated need for Lizzie to be truly present and unburdened.

Lizzie reached up, her fingers cupping Y/N’s cheek, feeling the slight stubble there. "I’ve never been surer," she breathed, her voice thick with emotion. She pulled Y/N down again, meeting her lips in a kiss that was both a promise and a desperate plea.

This time, the kiss was deeper, a slow, sensual exploration. Y/N's hands moved from Lizzie's hips, one sliding under her back, cradling her, while the other began to trace patterns along her bare side, dipping into the soft curve of her waist. Lizzie whimpered softly, arching into the touch, her own hips beginning to shift against Y/N's.

Y/N responded instantly, a low groan rumbling in her chest. Her leg, still tucked between Lizzie’s, pressed more firmly, the undeniable evidence of her desire a searing brand against Lizzie's inner thigh. Lizzie instinctively wrapped her leg around Y/N's, pulling her closer, wanting more, wanting all of her.

A soft chuckle vibrated through Y/N's chest as she broke the kiss again, her gaze lingering on Lizzie's flushed face. "You're beautiful," she whispered, her thumb stroking the curve of Lizzie's cheekbone. "Absolutely beautiful."

Lizzie blushed, a soft smile playing on her lips. "You're not so bad yourself," she countered, her eyes dropping to Y/N's still-clothed form. "But you're still dressed."

Y/N’s smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Are you in a hurry?" she teased, though her own breath was coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Yes," Lizzie said, her voice firm, but a playful glint in her own eyes. She lifted her hands, tracing the line of Y/N’s shoulders, then down her arms, letting her fingers brush against the hem of Y/N’s t-shirt. "Very much so."

Y/N’s eyes searched hers again, a silent confirmation passing between them. Then, with a soft exhale, she shifted, her movements becoming more deliberate. She lifted herself slightly, just enough to give Lizzie room to move, her hands still caressing Lizzie’s sides.

Lizzie didn't hesitate. Her fingers found the hem of Y/N’s t-shirt, tugging lightly. Y/N arched her back, helping Lizzie pull the fabric up, over her chest, and then finally, over her head. The shirt joined Lizzie’s on the floor, a testament to the shedding of inhibitions.

With Y/N's shirt gone, the flickering blue light from the TV now bathed her in its glow, highlighting the toned expanse of her abdomen. Lizzie’s gaze lingered on the sculpted lines of Y/N’s abs, a testament to her dedication, before finally landing on the sleek black fabric of a Calvin Klein bra. It was simple, athletic, and utterly captivating against her skin.

"There," Lizzie murmured, her voice a little breathless as she reached out to trace the taut line of Y/N’s obliques. "Much better."

Y/N let out a low chuckle, a rich, warm sound that vibrated through Lizzie. Her hands, no longer supporting herself, settled on either side of Lizzie’s head, her fingers tangling gently in Lizzie’s hair. Their eyes met, and in that silent exchange, the last vestiges of hesitation dissolved.

The kiss that followed was a deepening current, pulling them both under. It was slower, more deliberate, as if they were savoring each moment, each new layer of intimacy unveiled. Y/N’s lips were soft yet firm, tasting of warmth and longing, and Lizzie responded with equal fervor, her fingers now splayed across Y/N’s toned back, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath her touch.

Y/N shifted, her weight settling more fully between Lizzie’s legs, the hard evidence of her desire pressing against Lizzie’s inner thigh through Y/N’s pants. Lizzie gasped against Y/N’s mouth, a thrill shooting through her. She instinctively arched upward, wanting more, wanting to feel the full, hardness and heat in Y/N’s pants.

"God, Lizzie," Y/N whispered against her lips, pulling back just enough for a ragged breath. Her eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire, reflecting the same hunger Lizzie felt. "You're going to be the death of me."

Lizzie chuckled, a triumphant, breathless sound. "Only if you let me be." She pulled Y/N back down, deepening the kiss once more, her hands sliding from Y/N’s back to the waistband of her boxers that peaked out of her pants, a silent question hanging in the air. This time, there was no pulling away, only a soft moan of assent from Y/N as Lizzie’s fingers slipped under the elastic, brushing against the warm skin beneath.

Lizzie’s fingers, now beneath the waistband of Y/N’s boxers, grazed skin that was already hot and damp. The subtle, feather-light touch was enough. A low, guttural moan rumbled from Y/N’s chest, a sound of pure pleasure and desperate anticipation. Her hips instinctively bucked once, a hard, undeniable press against Lizzie’s covered center, the significant bulge in her pants a clear testament to her arousal.

"God," Y/N breathed, her voice thick with desire, eyes squeezed shut as she leaned her forehead against Lizzie’s. Her hands tightened in Lizzie’s hair, not pulling, but holding on, like she was grounding herself against a rising tide. "You have no idea what you do to me."

Lizzie chuckled softly, a triumphant, breathless sound. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," she whispered back, her own hips beginning to move in a slow, experimental grind against Y/N’s. The friction, even through the layers of clothing, was electric, sending a jolt straight through her. She felt the immediate surge of Y/N’s response, the low growl that vibrated against her.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, dark and hungry, meeting Lizzie’s. There was no hesitation now, only a raw, unyielding want that mirrored Lizzie’s own. "Lizzie," she murmured, a warning and a plea wrapped into one word.

"Mmm?" Lizzie hummed, her smile teasing, her hips continuing their slow, deliberate rhythm. She felt the insistent press against her, growing harder, more demanding with every movement.

Y/N let out a shuddering breath, her hands leaving Lizzie’s hair to cup her face, her thumbs stroking gently along her cheekbones. "I want you out of those pants," she stated, her voice raspy, direct. "Now."

Lizzie's smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Only if you are too," she countered, her hands now boldly exploring the hard curve of Y/N’s butt through the fabric of her boxers, pulling her even closer. The sheer, heat radiating from Y/N was intoxicating.

The last vestiges of the rom-com credits had faded from the screen, leaving the room in a soft, blue-tinged darkness that felt entirely private, entirely theirs. And in that intimate space, the final barriers between them began to crumble, replaced by a tangible, aching need that had been building for weeks, finally ready to consume them both.

With a decisive movement, Y/N reached for the remote and clicked off the TV, plunging the living room into near darkness, save for the soft glow from the city outside. The sudden silence was potent, amplifying the sound of their ragged breaths and pounding hearts.

Without a word, Y/N scooped Lizzie into her arms. Lizzie gasped, a surprised laugh escaping her lips as she instinctively wrapped her legs around Y/N's waist, burying her face in the curve of Y/N's neck.

The short journey to the bedroom was a blur of motion and electric anticipation. Y/N kicked the door shut with her heel, then gently lowered Lizzie onto the soft mattress. As Lizzie’s feet touched the floor, Y/N knelt before her, her hands already reaching for the waistband of Lizzie’s jeans. The denim slid down with a whisper, pooling around her ankles, and Lizzie kicked them off, her eyes fixed on Y/N.

Y/N stood, her gaze locked with Lizzie’s, and with a quick tug, shed her own pants. The sight of Y/N’s boxers, now taut and undeniably bulging with her arousal, sent a shiver of intense hunger through Lizzie. She watched, captivated, as Y/N's raw desire was so visibly displayed.

Lizzie, perched on the edge of the bed, slowly reached behind her back, her fingers finding the clasp of her bra. With a soft click, the lace fell away, revealing her breasts. She tossed it aside, her gaze never leaving Y/N’s, a silent invitation in her eyes.

Y/N’s breath hitched. Her own hands went to her chest, and in one fluid motion, she unhooked her bra, letting it drop to the floor. She remained in her boxers, a powerful, magnetic presence.

Then, with a low growl, Y/N climbed onto the bed, looming over Lizzie. She settled herself between Lizzie’s legs, but didn't press down fully, hovering just above her. Her eyes, dark and heavy-lidded with desire, devoured Lizzie’s form before locking with her gaze.

"Finally," Y/N murmured, her voice rough with a primal hunger, before she lowered herself, her lips finding Lizzie’s in a deep, ravenous kiss. It was a kiss that devoured, that consumed, weeks of pent-up yearning finally unleashed.

Y/N’s hands slid down Lizzie’s sides, finding the soft curve of her breasts. Her thumbs stroked the sensitive peaks, lightly at first, then with more pressure, eliciting a soft moan from Lizzie that was swallowed by the kiss. Lizzie arched into the touch, her body alive with sensation, her fingers tangling in Y/N’s hair, pulling her closer, deeper into the intoxicating swirl of their shared passion. The thin lace of Lizzie's underwear was the only barrier left.

Y/N’s mouth left Lizzie’s, leaving a trail of electric heat as she moved lower, drawing a soft gasp from Lizzie when her lips grazed the sensitive skin of her neck, then the hollow of her throat. Her hands continued their tender assault on Lizzie’s breasts, thumbs flicking over her nipples, making them tighten and peak. Lizzie arched into the touch, a low hum of pleasure vibrating deep in her chest.

"You feel incredible," Y/N murmured, her breath warm against Lizzie’s skin as her mouth found one of Lizzie’s breasts. She teased the tip with her tongue before drawing it gently into her mouth, a soft suckle that sent a shockwave through Lizzie’s entire body. Lizzie cried out, her fingers tangling in Y/N’s hair, holding her close, urging her on.

Y/N nursed at Lizzie’s breast, alternating between soft tugs and languid swirls of her tongue, driving Lizzie to the brink. Lizzie’s hips began to writhe instinctively, pressing into the undeniable bulge in Y/N’s boxers. The friction was a sweet torment, a promise of what was to come.

"Please," Lizzie whimpered, her voice strained with desire, "Y/N, please."

Y/N lifted her head, her eyes dark and heavy with passion, meeting Lizzie’s pleading gaze. A slow, knowing smile played on her lips. "Patience, love," she rasped, "we have all night." But her actions betrayed her words. With a soft groan, Y/N shifted, her hand leaving Lizzie’s breast to slide lower, over her stomach, then resting just above the lacy edge of Lizzie’s underwear.

Lizzie’s breath hitched, her body tensing in delicious anticipation. Y/N’s fingers lingered there, teasingly close, tracing the line of the lace without fully touching. The unspoken question hung in the air, a silent permission seeking to be granted.

Lizzie’s hips lifted, a clear, desperate invitation. "Yes," she whispered, "Please, Y/N. Yes."

Y/N let out a low, satisfied hum, a deep rumble that Lizzie felt in her very core. Her fingers, which had been teasing, now slipped beneath the delicate lace of Lizzie’s underwear. 

Y/N’s fingers, which had been teasing, now slipped beneath the delicate lace of Lizzie’s underwear. Lizzie gasped, a sharp intake of breath as Y/N's warm, firm touch finally met her, sending a jolt of pure pleasure through her.

Y/N’s touch was everything Lizzie had imagined, and more. Her finger slid inside, a slow, deliberate invasion that made Lizzie arch her back, a soft cry escaping her lips. Lizzie’s hips instinctively lifted, urging Y/N deeper, inviting more. Her legs parted wider, trembling slightly with the intensity of the sensation.

Y/N leaned down, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to Lizzie’s neck, just beneath her ear. "So ready for me," she whispered, her voice rough with escalating desire.

Lizzie whimpered, her hands finding Y/N’s shoulders and squeezing, her nails digging in slightly. The combination of Y/N’s mouth on her neck and the masterful touch below was almost unbearable. Her body tightened, vibrating with a delicious tension.

Y/N continued her rhythmic work, her single finger expertly circling and pressing, building the pressure within Lizzie. Lizzie’s breathing became ragged, her moans soft cries that filled the quiet bedroom. She could feel herself spiraling, every nerve ending alive and tingling.

Then, with a low groan that reverberated against Lizzie’s lips as Y/N captured them in a deep, hungry kiss, Y/N added another finger. Lizzie’s body convulsed around her, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat as the added fullness brought her to the brink. Y/N's touch intensified, sending Lizzie soaring, her hips bucking against the exquisite pressure.

A soft cry escaped Lizzie’s throat, muffled by Y/N’s kiss, as her body convulsed around Y/N’s fingers, tremors shaking her from head to toe. Y/N held her, her body pressed firmly against Lizzie’s, absorbing every shiver, every delicious tremor.

When the last echoes of the orgasm faded, Lizzie lay breathless, utterly sated, yet already yearning for more. Y/N pulled back just enough to look at her, a triumphant, tender smile gracing her lips.

“So beautiful,” Y/N murmured, her voice husky with lingering desire as she leaned down to kiss Lizzie’s cheek, the soft brush of her lips sending another shiver through Lizzie’s cooling skin. Y/N then slowly, carefully, pulled her fingers out from inside Lizzie. Lizzie felt the absence immediately, a fresh ache already building.

Y/N leaned in, her lips finding Lizzie’s for a soft, tender kiss, allowing Lizzie a moment to recover from the intense high. But recovery wasn't what Lizzie wanted. Her body was already humming with a renewed, insistent demand. Without a moment's hesitation, Lizzie deepened the kiss, her own lips pressing more firmly against Y/N's, her tongue boldly seeking entry.

At the same time, Lizzie’s hands, driven by an undeniable hunger, reached down. Her fingers found the prominent bulge in Y/N’s boxers, gently cupping the significant weight she’d been circling for weeks. A soft groan rumbled from Y/N’s chest as Lizzie began to stroke her hard member through the fabric, a silent promise of all the pleasure yet to come.

A low, helpless sound escaped Y/N's throat, a mixture of surprise and pure, unadulterated pleasure, as Lizzie's fingers closed around her hard member through the soft cotton of her boxers. The immediate, intense friction sent a jolt of fire through Y/N, making her hips instinctively buck against Lizzie's hand. The kiss deepened, becoming more fervent, a desperate clash of mouths.

Lizzie, emboldened by Y/N's reaction, continued to stroke, feeling the impressive length and heat beneath her palm. She shifted slightly, allowing her hips to grind against Y/N's, the thin fabric of her own lace underwear doing little to dampen the exquisite friction.

Y/N groaned against Lizzie's lips, pulling back just enough to gasp for air, her eyes squeezed shut. "Lizzie," she choked out, her voice ragged with desire. Her hands, which had been gently cupping Lizzie's face, moved to grip her wrists, not to stop her, but to hold on, to anchor herself against the overwhelming sensation. "You're going to make me come right through these damn boxers."

Lizzie's eyes glinted with mischief, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. "Is that a threat?" she purred, her fingers continuing their delicious work. She felt the palpable tremors running through Y/N's body, the desperate clench of her muscles.

"It's a promise," Y/N countered, her voice barely a whisper, as she leaned back in for another hungry kiss, her tongue tangling with Lizzie's. The taste of Lizzie, sharp and sweet with desire, was all she could focus on. This was it. This was the moment they had both been waiting for, circling for. No more hesitation, no more holding back. Just pure, unadulterated want, finally unleashed.

With a final, decisive movement, Lizzie’s fingers hooked into the waistband of Y/N’s boxers, pulling them down. Y/N gasped, a sharp, choked sound, as the fabric slid past her hips, freeing her. Lizzie’s hand was instantly there, wrapping around Y/N's exposed, throbbing arousal.

Lizzie then gently, but firmly, pushed Y/N down onto the bed. Y/N landed with a soft thump, a surprised groan escaping her lips as Lizzie shifted, now hovering over her. Her eyes, wide and dark with desire, met Lizzie’s. This was a new position, a new dynamic, and the raw hunger in Lizzie’s gaze made Y/N’s breath hitch.

Lizzie leaned down, her lips brushing Y/N's ear. "My turn," she whispered, her voice husky, before she lowered her head, her eyes fixed on Y/N’s magnificent, now fully revealed, form.

Lizzie's gaze devoured Y/N's exposed form. The sight of her hard, engorged member, heavy and pulsing, was breathtaking. It was a tangible expression of the desire that had been simmering between them for weeks, now laid bare and glorious. Lizzie reached out, her fingers tentatively tracing the length of Y/N's shaft, feeling the heat, the slick readiness of her.

Y/N let out a shuddering breath, her hands clenching the sheets beside her, her head tilting back as Lizzie’s touch ignited a new wave of sensation. "Oh, God, Lizzie," she rasped, her voice thick with a mixture of awe and desperate yearning.

Lizzie’s fingers tightened, a confident, possessive grip. She watched Y/N’s face, tracing the exquisite lines of pleasure and vulnerability there. It was a powerful, intoxicating feeling to be the one to bring Y/N to this point, to see her so utterly consumed. With a soft sigh, Lizzie leaned down, her lips brushing the tip of Y/N's arousal. The taste was sharp, musky, and utterly intoxicating.

Lizzie's gaze devoured Y/N's exposed form. The sight of her hard, engorged member, heavy and pulsing, was breathtaking. It was a tangible expression of the desire that had been simmering between them for weeks, now laid bare and glorious. Lizzie reached out, her fingers tentatively tracing the length of Y/N's shaft, feeling the heat, the slick readiness of her.

Y/N let out a shuddering breath, her hands clenching the sheets beside her, her head tilting back as Lizzie’s touch ignited a new wave of sensation. "Oh, God, Lizzie," she rasped, her voice thick with a mixture of awe and desperate yearning.

Lizzie’s fingers tightened, a confident, possessive grip. She watched Y/N’s face, tracing the exquisite lines of pleasure and vulnerability there. It was a powerful, intoxicating feeling to be the one to bring Y/N to this point, to see her so utterly consumed. With a soft sigh, Lizzie leaned down, her lips brushing the tip of Y/N's arousal. The taste was sharp, musky, and utterly intoxicating.

Y/N arched into Lizzie’s touch, a guttural groan vibrating through her chest. Her hips lifted instinctively from the bed, meeting Lizzie’s mouth with a desperate urgency. Lizzie took her in, slowly, deliberately, drawing Y/N deeper into her mouth. The sheer size, the intense heat, the rhythmic pulse against her tongue – it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

Lizzie worked her magic, her tongue flicking, swirling, and tracing, while her hands continued to stroke and guide. Y/N’s breathing became ragged, a series of short, sharp gasps, as her fingers dug into the sheets, her body trembling under Lizzie’s ministrations.

"Lizzie," Y/N choked out, her voice barely recognizable, strained with building pleasure. Her legs began to tremble, her entire body taut with the exquisite tension. "I'm... I'm going to—"

Lizzie didn't let her finish, deepening her efforts, wanting to be the one to bring Y/N over the edge. She felt Y/N’s entire body clench, a deep moan tearing from her throat as she pulsed against Lizzie’s mouth. The taste of her release, hot and musky, filled Lizzie’s mouth, a sweet victory.

Y/N collapsed back onto the bed, breathless, her body still quivering from the aftershocks. Lizzie stayed with her for a moment, savoring the taste, before slowly pulling away, a triumphant smile on her lips. She looked at Y/N, her eyes shining with affection and fierce satisfaction.

"Now," she whispered, her voice husky, "I think it's time to get rid of this." Her fingers found the lace at her own hips, and with a swift, deliberate movement, she slid the delicate fabric down her legs. It joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor, leaving her entirely bare.

Lizzie then parted her legs, a silent, open invitation. Y/N's eyes, still glazed with the afterglow of her own release, widened, now fixed on the sight of Lizzie's nakedness. A fresh wave of desire surged through Y/N, replacing the lingering pleasure with a new, potent ache.

With a low groan, Y/N shifted, moving to lay fully on top of Lizzie. The press of her heavy, satisfied body against Lizzie's eager one was a sensation Lizzie had craved for weeks. Y/N captured Lizzie's mouth in a deep, hungry kiss, tasting her own desire, her own triumph, on Lizzie's lips. Their bodies molded together, skin against skin, the heat between them electric and undeniable.

Y/N broke the kiss, her forehead resting against Lizzie's, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. Her eyes, still dark with desire, searched Lizzie's. "Do you... do you have a condom here?" Y/N asked, her voice a little breathless, her gaze sweeping around Lizzie’s familiar bedroom.

Lizzie smiled, a soft, reassuring curve of her lips. She reached up, cupping Y/N’s cheek. "No need, love," she murmured, her thumb stroking Y/N’s skin. "I'm on the pill."

A relieved sigh escaped Y/N’s lips, the last flicker of concern vanishing from her eyes as Lizzie confirmed she was on the pill. The unspoken barrier of protection, now unnecessary, melted away, leaving only raw, uninhibited desire. Y/N’s body, already primed and throbbing, pressed more intimately against Lizzie’s.

"Good," Y/N breathed, her voice a low growl, her lips finding Lizzie’s again. This kiss was deeper, hungrier, a testament to the sheer relief and burgeoning excitement. There were no more words, only a primal language of touch and sensation.

Y/N shifted, her hips grinding slowly against Lizzie’s. The friction, skin on skin, sent shivers through Lizzie’s core. She wrapped her legs around Y/N’s waist, pulling her closer, higher, her body instinctively arching to meet Y/N’s palpable need.

A soft moan tore from Y/N’s throat as their bodies finally aligned. She poised herself at Lizzie’s entrance, her gaze locking with Lizzie’s, a silent question in her eyes. It was a moment of profound connection, of shared vulnerability and undeniable anticipation.

Lizzie’s eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of desperate yearning and utter trust. She nodded, a small, eager movement of her head, her hips lifting in an undeniable invitation. "Yes," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Please, Y/N."

With a guttural groan, Y/N began to move, slowly at first, easing herself into Lizzie’s warmth. Lizzie gasped, her body adjusting, accommodating the delicious invasion. The sensation was intense, a deep, satisfying fullness that made her arch her back and cling to Y/N, her nails digging into Y/N’s shoulders.

But then, as Y/N pushed a little deeper, Lizzie’s breath hitched, and a sharp, involuntary hiss escaped her lips.

Y/N froze, stopping immediately. Her body tensed above Lizzie, her breath catching in her throat. She looked down, her eyes wide with immediate concern. "Lizzie? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Her voice was tight with worry, her movements still.

Lizzie reached up, her hands finding Y/N's face, her fingers stroking her cheeks. "No," she whispered, her voice a little breathless but firm, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. "No, you didn't hurt me." Her hips lifted again, a soft, insistent demand. "It's just… you're bigger than I'm used to." She arched into Y/N, urging her closer. "But it feels so good. Perfect."

Her eyes, still wide with desire, pleaded with Y/N. "Don't stop," she breathed, pulling Y/N's head down for a fierce, hungry kiss. "Please, Y/N. Just… move."

Y/N’s gaze searched Lizzie’s, finding nothing but raw desire and unwavering trust. A wave of relief washed over her, quickly replaced by a surge of desperate longing. With a low, guttural groan, Y/N began to move again, slowly at first, carefully, allowing Lizzie’s body to stretch and adapt.

Lizzie gasped, a sound of both pain and exquisite pleasure, as Y/N eased deeper. Her fingers tightened on Y/N’s shoulders, her legs locking around Y/N’s waist, pulling her closer, higher. The initial discomfort quickly faded, replaced by a deep, fulfilling pressure that spread through her core.

Y/N watched Lizzie's face, meticulously gauging her reactions, slowing her rhythm when Lizzie tensed, then picking up the pace when Lizzie arched into her. She moved with a primal instinct, a dance of give and take, pushing Lizzie to the edge of her comfort zone only to pull her back into a world of pure sensation.

The bed beneath them began to creak a rhythmic protest as their movements grew more fervent. Lizzie’s moans became louder, more uninhibited, mirroring the raw, guttural sounds that tore from Y/N’s throat. Their bodies slapped together, slick with sweat and desire, a symphony of pleasure echoing in the quiet bedroom. The air grew thick with their shared heat and the scent of aroused skin.

Lizzie was lost, utterly consumed by the rhythm, by the feel of Y/N so completely within her. She clung to Y/N, her nails digging into Y/N’s back, urging her faster, deeper. Each thrust brought her closer, building a coil of tension that hummed through her entire body.

"Y/N," Lizzie cried out, her voice ragged, "I’m… oh God, Y/N!"

Y/N responded instantly, her movements becoming a powerful, relentless drive. She pressed into Lizzie, feeling the delicious tightening around her, knowing they were both on the brink. Her own climax was building fast, a fire roaring through her veins. "Lizzie!" she roared, her voice raw with passion, pushing in one final, deep thrust.

A wave of intense pleasure crashed over Lizzie, a breathless, shuddering orgasm that rippled through her. Her body convulsed around Y/N, clinging to her, as a simultaneous groan tore from Y/N’s throat, her own body arching and trembling above Lizzie as she poured herself into her.

****

They collapsed together, heavy and breathless, bodies slick with sweat, heartbeats slowly synchronizing. Y/N buried her face in the crook of Lizzie’s neck, her arm tightening around Lizzie’s waist, holding her close, utterly spent yet utterly content. The air around them thrummed with the fading echoes of their climax, leaving behind a profound sense of peace and deep, satiated connection.

After a few quiet moments, Y/N stirred, lifting her head to look at Lizzie. Her eyes, though still heavy-lidded, were full of a soft, tender adoration. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Lizzie’s temple, then her nose, then finally, a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

"Are you... are you really okay?" Y/N whispered, her voice still a little rough, but laced with genuine concern. The memory of Lizzie's initial hiss still lingered.

Lizzie smiled, her own eyes soft and hazy with contentment. She reached up, stroking Y/N’s damp hair back from her forehead. "More than okay, Y/N," she murmured, her voice husky. "Perfect. You were absolutely perfect." She tightened her arms around Y/N, pulling her closer, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s shoulder. "See? I told you. No confusion. Just... you."

Y/N let out a shaky breath, a sound of profound relief and happiness. She shifted slightly, easing some of her weight off Lizzie, but still keeping their bodies intimately connected. Her fingers began to trace lazy patterns on Lizzie’s hip, a calming, possessive touch.

"I didn't rush it this time, did I?" Y/N asked, a hint of vulnerability in her tone.

Lizzie chuckled softly. "Definitely not. But I think we've made up for lost time, wouldn't you say?"

Y/N laughed, a rich, satisfied sound. She pulled back just enough to meet Lizzie’s gaze, her eyes shining. "I'd say. And I'd say it was worth every damn second of the wait." She leaned down and kissed Lizzie again, a slow, deep kiss that promised many more nights just like this one, finally unburdened by hesitation or fear. The beautiful, frustrating dance was over. Now, there was just them.

A few contented moments later, Y/N stirred, gently pulling herself out of Lizzie. Lizzie let out a soft murmur of protest at the loss of contact, but Y/N just smiled, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead.

"Stay right there," Y/N whispered, her voice husky. She swung her legs off the bed, her movements fluid and unhurried as she padded towards the en-suite bathroom. Lizzie watched her go, a warm flush spreading through her body.

Y/N returned quickly, a soft, damp washcloth in hand. She sat on the edge of the bed, facing Lizzie, and with tender care, began to gently wipe away the evidence of their passion from Lizzie's inner thighs and stomach. Her touch was warm, intimate, and full of quiet reverence. Lizzie simply closed her eyes, basking in the tenderness, feeling utterly cherished.

Once Lizzie was clean, Y/N moved to herself, carefully wiping down her own body with the same cloth. She took a moment, her eyes briefly closing as she savored the afterglow, before meeting Lizzie's gaze again.

"Comfy?" Y/N asked, her voice soft, as she tossed the washcloth aside and then leaned over Lizzie, propping herself up on one arm. She pressed a gentle kiss to Lizzie’s lips, then another, a slow, lingering exploration. "Sleepy?"

Lizzie hummed, her eyes still heavy-lidded, but a contented smile playing on her lips. "Content," she corrected, her voice a soft murmur. She reached out, tracing the curve of Y/N's jaw. "Very, very content."

Y/N smiled, a genuinely happy, relaxed smile that reached her eyes. She shifted, pulling Lizzie closer until they were curled together, skin to skin under the covers. Lizzie nestled her head on Y/N's shoulder, feeling the steady beat of her heart against her ear.

Lizzie's fingers began to trace languid patterns over Y/N’s toned abs, feeling the lean, sculpted muscle beneath her touch. She moved her hand up and down, from Y/N’s ribs to the soft curve of her lower abdomen. Sometimes, her touch would linger closer to Y/N’s soft member, a silent, teasing reminder of the passion they had just shared, and a gentle promise of more to come. Y/N let out a soft sigh, pressing a kiss into Lizzie’s hair, utterly relaxed in her embrace.

"Good," Y/N whispered, her lips brushing Lizzie's hair. "Me too." She held Lizzie tight, the comfortable silence of the room punctuated only by their synchronized breathing. This was the peace she’d longed for, the quiet intimacy that felt like coming home.

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