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mssainz · 2 months

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PART 2 | AFTER FIVE YEARS

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader

Summary: Carlos Sainz finally met his son he had with her ex-wife, Y/N.

Warning: None

AN: We are still getting there guys. I'll update as soon as I can. Please bear with me. You can comment down so I can tag you for the next part. I hope you like this one. Love youuuu!

Cael faced Carlos. He said thank you and gave him his sweetest smile. The smile that he actually got from him. Yes, Cael is a spitting image of his father. He is indeed Carlos mini-me which you think is unfair as you are the one, who carried him for months and took care of him for years.

Looking at Carlos standing in front of you is making your world stop. Your shoes become glued, refusing to move your feet out of the ground and an immense silence dampens your ears. And the moment you met his eyes, your mind started to tell you to run but your body is casually betraying you. All of this made you rethink your decision to come back here.

Fate must be joking with me and this is not very funny.

“Mama, can I still get an ice cream?” Cael said, interrupting your train of thoughts. Your eyes move to your son.

Thank you baby, I think your ice cream will save us right now.

You smiled and gave him a nod of approval. You swiftly reached out for his hand and made a move. Years have passed and you thought you were completely healed and had the strength to face him again. But now that he is here, you realize that your wounds are still fresh.

Cael, get Mama out of here. Please, I'm still not ready for this. Not yet.

You didn't even say thank you to Carlos for returning your son safely in your arms. But before you can even walk away from him. Carlos called out for Cael, which made your son stop and look back at him.

“Wait Cael,” Carlos said and started walking towards you two.

What the hell? Get away from me. I mean from us.

He knelt down to talk to Cael. He is just a few inches away from you, talking with your son, with his son. You stand frozen beside Cael not knowing what to do. You are just trying to read what Carlos is trying to do and what's going on in his mind right now.

“I think I'm also craving ice cream. Can I come with you bud?” Carlos asked, not breaking eye contact with Cael.

Lies. You don't like ice cream Carlos. You are not fond of it. What are you even thinking right now? How can you stay so calm when I am literally about to faint here?

You saw how Cael’s face lit up. That glow in his eyes and that smile in his face, you knew he wanted Carlos to come with you two. No doubt about it you know Cael's expression very much.

“Mama, can he come with us?” Cael said looking up to you, waiting for your response. Carlos also looked at you.

“Mama please,” and there goes Cael giving you his puppy eyes. And Carlos smiling beside him is not helping the situation. You never know that Cael and Carlos combo is something you cannot resist.

“Okay, fine. He can come with us,” you gave in and rolled your eyes. Cael gave Carlos a high five before giggling with each other.

What is going on, seriously? How come these two get along so much when they just met? What on Earth is happening?

Carlos lifted Cael and carried him. Your jaw dropped but immediately brushed it off. You two walk side-by-side towards the ice cream stall. And it is the longest walk you have taken in your entire life. You can't help but wonder why Carlos is not asking you anything.

You bought two chocolate ice creams for the boys. Meanwhile, you got a pistachio ice cream for yourself. You didn't even want an ice cream in the first place but you needed something to do to lessen how awkward you feel about this whole situation. The three of you sat on the bench near the ice cream stall.

“Mama, what's the flavor you got?” Cael curiously asked while looking at what's on your hand.

“It's called pistachio ice cream, honey. Do you want to try it?” You asked Cael who is now sitting on Carlos lap. You try to focus on your son avoiding Carlos.

He is invisible, he is not here and he is not real.

Cael nodded and gave your ice cream a try. His face immediately wrinkled which made Carlos laugh.

“You didn't like it?” Carlos asked while wiping some of the ice cream at the corner of Cael's lips.

“It doesn't taste good, Mama. Chocolate is better,” Cael said after gulping the remaining pistachio in his mouth. You just laugh at your son's reaction.

You sat there awkwardly until you finished the ice cream. All this time you were munching the pistachio that you got, avoiding having conversation with Carlos. Fortunately, he is also not talking to you and just focused on Cael on his lap. They are casually teasing each other, giggling beside you. You are still puzzled why he is just enjoying the moment and not confronting you. You know he definitely has a clue on what's going on and you can notice that.

After having ice cream, Cael and Carlos decided to play tag. You have never seen Cael this happy. This view feels so wrong but feels right at the same time. It feels so wrong that that the boys have to meet this way. But it feels so right that they are finally having fun with each other.

The sky changes into its orange hue. Carlos offers to drive you two to where you are staying here in Madrid. You didn't refuse because you were too exhausted to even grab a cab.

“Where are you two staying?” These are the first words that he said to you. After five years of not seeing each other this is where you start your conversation.

“In a nearby Airbnb,” you bluntly replied.

As you entered his car, his scent started intoxicating you. It is still the same. This scent once felt like home but not anymore or as you make yourself believe it was not anymore.

The drive to your place was still awkward. You were in the passenger seat with Cael who is constantly asking you questions about what he is seeing on the road. And you can tell that Carlos is checking on you two in his rear-mirror.

“What was your name again?” Cael blurted out of nowhere while leaning to Carlos at the driver seat.

Wait, what Cael? Baby, you two played together and you didn't even know his name! Now it makes sense to me how you didn't even insist that he is your Papa immediately after he told you that maybe he just looks like him. Cael, I think I should remind you more about not talking to strangers, honey.

“You can call me Uncle Chilli,” You raised an eyebrow on what he just said.

Uncle Chilli, huh?

“Okay, Uncle Chilli,” Cael said giggling. You can see that he finds his name silly.

After almost an hour's drive, you finally arrived at your place. You immediately get out of his car with Cael. Carlos followed you two at the doorstep. You then opened the door and let Cael go in first.

“I think we need to talk,” Carlos said.

“Yes. We need to. That's I'm here,”

I'm calling all the angels and saints, the Avengers, and even Power Rangers. Please give me the strength to talk to this man.

TAG LIST:

@seasonswinter @charizznorizz @itsjustkhaos @celesteablack @openthenyoor01 @carlossainzbelongswithme @timmychalametsstuff @viennakarma @charlottef1 @i-love-ptv @evie-119 @somepeoplemaybe @amberpanda99 @gotthatname @karlossainz @wonderfulkawaii

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#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula one x you #afterfiveyears #cs55 #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz jr

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 8 months

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i’ve always loved the way you eat ; suguru geto

synopsis; suguru is a morning person. he likes the serenity of it all; the quiet of the early hours, the expensive feel of his coffee pot. more than anything, he likes bringing you breakfast in bed.

word count; 4.9k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, just comfy morning vibes, fluff fluff fluff!!, suguru being a good soon-to-be husband, lots of petnames, reader is whipped (and so am i) but suguru is even worse, i need him biblically.

a/n; this is my personal essay on why suguru geto is the perfect man and wife. bon appetit !!

something smells good.

as your eyelids flutter open, and you gradually slip out of sleep’s fuzzy embrace, you are engulfed by that one thought. that one sensation.

there’s a sweet fragrance in the air, an unnamed something you can’t place. a force of love.

soft sunrays flit in through the haphazardly closed window blinds of your bedroom, cascading across the floorboards and bouncing off the walls. splotches of sunshine envelop you in a hazy kind of glow; gentle and coaxing, stirring you awake. it feels good on your skin.

indulging in a few more slow blinks, you shift to lie on your back, halfheartedly attempting to chase the sleepiness away. tangled up in silken sheets and fluffy blankets, you stare at the ceiling — but even such a mundane task feels so nice. just wallowing in the tantalizing scent drifting through the bedroom, the flurry of little kisses that the sun smothers you with.

it’s still early, and you’re still sleepy. outside the walls of your apartment, the sun is rising to its feet, dyeing the world in warm colours; violets and blues melting into pinks and oranges, like an egg cracked open on the canvas of the sky. everything is quiet, not a sound to be heard except for the very distant chirping of cicadas from the trees outside your window. utter peace. like time isn’t even passing.

in the midst of such a precious moment, all you want is to laze around. it’s just that kind of pleasant, mellow morning; the kind that makes you wish the sun would never fully rise.

a satisfied little sigh slips from your lips. content to soak in the heavenly feeling until it passes, your eyes flutter shut — you’re just so sleepy, and the sun just feels so warm. soothing you, making it even harder to stay awake, cradling you in its hazy embrace. sunlit and saccharine.

with the morning fatigue clouding your senses, you don’t even notice the other presence in the room.

suguru smiles, from his spot by the door — leaning against the wall and gazing at your relaxed expression, an immense fondness reflected in his eyes. taking a moment to silently admire you.

you look so content. tangled up in blankets and pillows, with your limbs outstretched and starfished across the mattress. your hair is a little messy, and you’re drooling just a smidge, wearing his shirt; it’s a couple sizes too big for you, slipping off your shoulder and exposing your sunkissed skin. as suguru’s eyes trail over your features, the fond smile on his face only grows, shifting into something honeyed and giddy.

you’re perfect, he thinks. absolutely perfect.

a moment passes. then another. suguru continues to stare, as if trying to etch the image of you into his memory. trying to prolong the moment for as long as he can.

until, finally, he’s had his fill. simply admiring you from afar isn’t enough — he needs to see you up close, needs to hear the sleepy little tilt of your voice. so he opts to make his presence known, voice gravelly and sweet, echoing softly throughout the room.

“good morning, sweetheart.”

softly, your eyes flicker open. the familiar voice sends a tremor of something running through your chest — and suddenly, it feels as if some of the sleep clinging to your skin has been washed away. it’s a little easier to make yourself move, shifting to your side to get a better look at the source of the sound.

and the warmth that blossoms in your chest when your eyes meet suguru’s is almost overwhelming.

(god, he’s pretty.)

suguru looks perfect, in the morning. he looks like the rest of your life. hair a little messy, tied up into a lazy half-done bun, silky black strands cascading down his neck. and wearing a pair of comfy sweatpants that hang a little low on his hips, but no shirt — showing off the curve of his tiny waist, the slight twitch of his arms when he indulges in an idle stretch.

you try to restrain yourself from ogling his bare chest and arms too much, but it’s tough. frighteningly so. with the sunlight embracing his skin, muscles on full display, he looks a bit like a sculpture. a little too good to be real.

but he is. and he’s yours. and he’s smirking at you, lazily, affectionately — eyes half-lidded as he balances the tray that’s making the room smell so sweet. just standing there, looking so unfairly gorgeous. waiting for you to muster up the energy to respond to his greeting, more than happy to watch the way your eyes soften as they trail across his features in the meantime.

“morning,” is all you can rasp, eyes closing as your cheek sinks deeper into the mattress. a bit too tired to talk to him properly, and a bit too unguarded to look at him without feeling as if your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

he’s a little too pretty, like this. framed by the hazy sunshine, like something out of a dream. all soft clouds and gentle caresses, the scent of dried lavender, the pitter patter of rain against a windowsill. all things kind and comforting.

you’re afraid that your heart might give out, if you look at him for too long.

suguru doesn’t seem to mind. he only chuckles, voice deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine. his lips quirk up into a smooth kind of smile, and he’s quick to make his way to your side; crouching down to meet you at eye level after placing the tray on the nightstand.

a hand comes to caress your cheek. the rough pads of his fingers smooth down your jaw, gentle and doting, as if coaxing you out of hiding. as if you’re made of porcelain. suguru always treats you like you’re fragile, like you’re the most precious thing he has.

(because you are, he thinks. more precious than the expensive vanilla extract he used to make the waffles on the tray, more precious than the diamond-clad ring he’s hidden away in a drawer of the guest room. more precious than anything this world has to offer.)

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you nuzzle into his palm. suguru leans forward to smear a kiss against your forehead, overcome with fondness; warm lips lingering on your skin.

the sensation strikes you as just a little heavenly. his touch is so tender, every caress so full of love. instinctual, the way his love bleeds into his touch, trickles down his veins to the tips of his fingers — smoothing along your skin. such a heavy thing, but he just makes it feel so light.

“still sleepy?” he hums, a little teasing. eyes crinkling, voice bordering on a coo.

and it’s infuriating. the amusement that flickers through his eyes, the way you can tell he’s itching to tease you for being so groggy and tired.

between the two of you, suguru’s always been the one to get out of bed first, to your grave annoyance. and he’s so smug about it. you want to tell him that waking up so early on a saturday isn’t normal, that he’s the weird one for not being sleepy —

but when he’s cupping your cheek so gently, all you manage is a meek little murmur of mm. one that has suguru stifling a coo, lips curling up into an adoring smile.

look at you. his sleepy little baby, dyed in sunrays and tiny specks of dust. so effortlessly pretty, tangled up in fluffy blankets, an image so precious he almost feels like he shouldn’t be looking at it. yet he continues to do so, mesmerized.

(suguru doesn’t mind being a little greedy, when it comes to you.)

“i made you breakfast,” he continues, as you melt into his touch. an absentminded action, but almost brimming with trust; the trust you have in him to treat you well. one he’ll always, always affirm. “your favorite. wanna eat with me?”

breakfast.

something in your brain visibly reacts to the sound of the word, shooing away a little of the morning fatigue still clouding your senses. before you know it, you’ve forced yourself into a sitting position, with groggy movements and a soft groan. rubbing the skin beneath your eyes and kicking the blanket off your legs, a little clumsily.

suguru breathes out a soft bout of laughter, low and amused, as you lazily stretch and indulge in slow blinks. his hand goes to ruffle your hair, and all you do is lean into it.

“i’ll take that as a yes,” he teases, eyes full of fondness. you crack a sleepy smile at his amused tone of voice.

suguru’s hands are big, and a little rough, but still so very soft. you could spend hours tracing them — from the tips of his fingers down to the veins of his wrist, across his knuckles littered with small scratches and barely visible scars. stories of his childhood, that he loves telling you about, almost as much as you love hearing them.

you love his hands. they’re so pretty. so warm and grounding, as they smooth down your hair, unmistakably caring. the weight of them is a comfort, as his fingers card through your bedhead, scratching softly at your scalp. a sensation that makes you feel all fuzzy inside.

suguru is just so good to you.

and you’re only further reminded of that fact when your gaze trails over to the assortment of breakfast foods he’s prepared, neatly stacked on the nightstand. all your favorites, made with so much love; and it’s so evident, even just in the presentation. the freshness of the strawberry slices, the perfect amount of syrup spread over the waffles. the cup of coffee made just the way you like it.

maybe it’s the morning fatigue, or just the softness of the moment. the intimacy, so palpable you can almost reach out and touch it. or maybe it’s something else entirely — whatever the cause, you feel your eyes get somewhat glassy.

a meek little sniffle leaves your lips, and it catches even you off guard.

suguru blinks. suddenly alert, his morning-fatigued brain trying to comprehend the sight of your teary eyes. brain spinning in circles, not sure if it should be telling him to panic just yet. something in him constricts, twists and turns, a desperate kind of yearning to protect you.

but before he can even reach out to wipe away the wetness with his thumb, you’ve latched yourself onto him.

arms snug around his waist, face tucked under his chin. fitting into him like a puzzle piece. breathing in the remnants of the cologne on his neck; a nice bergamot mix that you like, so he sprays on a little extra just for you. so close to him that you can feel the patter of his heart against you, as you soak in his body warmth.

and his arms find their way around your form just as naturally, without him even having to think. like every bone in his body was born with a desire to cradle you close. like he was crafted in the image of someone made to soothe you.

being in suguru’s arms is pure bliss. the most grounding sensation you know, one that never fails to calm you down, no matter how stressed or anxious you’re feeling. with his broad chest and strong arms, his bergamot-scented skin. so doting, pressing little kisses to your shoulder, trying to console you. his hair tickles your cheek a little, but it’s comforting.

”what’s wrong, honey?” he questions, voice set on a low, particularly soothing lilt. coaxing, almost cooing — a tone that buzzes with safety. his big hands go to rest on your head and back, smoothing down your spine.

”nothing,” you sniffle. feeling a little silly. ”you’re just too perfect. ‘s not fair.”

a pause.

then, a chuckle bubbles up from suguru’s throat. something fond and delightful unfurls in his chest, a kind of relief; a feather-light amusement.

(you’re so ridiculous, he thinks.)

but you only nuzzle further into his neck, all sleepy and affectionate — and it stirs his heartstrings in a way that makes him feel rather helpless. crumbling beneath your touch. gazing at you with soft eyes, a happy little hum buzzing in his throat.

he takes you in, in all your clingy glory; so impossibly sweet. maybe he should have sprinkled some sugar on the strawberry slices, just to see if the taste could ever measure up.

”ah, is that so?” he drawls, a lazy amusement flickering through his eyes. playful. ”i’m sorry, baby. i should be the one saying that to you, though.”

but you just shake your head, arms tightening around his midriff. as if offended that he’d have the audacity to brush off your objectively correct statement, to even think to deny how perfect he is.

and suguru raises a brow at you, in tandem, a mild protest resting on the tip of his tongue — offended at your blatant disrespect, shaking your head at his factually correct words, as if disagreeing with your own evident perfection.

but before he can even begin to fight you on the topic, you part your lips to speak.

”thanks for breakfast, sugu,” you sleepily murmur, biting back a yawn. still a little meek, but oh so loving. ”i would die for you.”

he stills, once more. then another soft bout of laughter escapes his lungs, rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm. it makes you feel so terribly safe.

“there’s no need for that,” he assures you. ”don’t you wanna eat instead?”

to his surprise, he’s met with another soft shake of your head. so snug in his embrace that you could practically live there, only clinging to him a little tighter with a huff.

”just wanna hug you first…” you yawn, arms squeezing at his waist affectionately. shifting in his hold until your lips find their way to his neck.

”i love you,” you mumble, kissing down his jaw and collarbone. sleepy, open mouthed pecks, trailing over the expanse of his pretty skin. ”so much.”

it tickles, a little. suguru digs his teeth into his cheek, ever so slightly, just to hold back the giggle that threatens to break out from his throat.

and it’s maybe just a little too sweet, the sensation that blossoms in his chest, something honeyed and flowery; fluttering deep within his ribcage, like a dragonfly buzzing and trying to break free. it gets him a little weak in the knees.

to distract himself from the voice in his head urging him to go get the ring in the guest room drawer right this instant, suguru scoops you up. cradling you close, as he plops down on the mattress, legs crossed to give you space on his lap.

you don’t protest, only snuggling a little closer — as if yearning to tuck yourself away within his ribcage.

and suguru chuckles, the deep tremor of his voice reverberating through his chest, echoing in your head as you listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart. rubbing your back with a teasing smile, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head.

“i should make breakfast more often if it’ll get you like this,” he grins, basking in the warmth of your body against his.

a little whine falls from your lips. muffled into the curve of his shoulder, against his bare skin. “it’s not about the breakfast,” you pout, looping your arms around his neck. “it’s everything you do…”

a heat rises to your cheeks, a little embarrassed at the sappiness you’re exuding. but the sun feels so nice on your skin, and the bedroom smells so good, and the whole world feels so kind.

inhaling the fragrance of bergamot and coffee, you can only fall apart at the intimacy of the moment.

“i’m really grateful…” you murmur, resting your lips against his skin. buzzing with a warmth that has him shuddering. “‘m just bad at expressing it.”

suguru’s eyes soften. melting into a tender hue, like that of a creamsicle sunrise sky. a dreamy look smoothes over his features, and a fond hum buzzes in his throat.

“nah, you’re fine,” he drawls, squeezing at your hips affectionately. pulling away ever so slightly, just to plant a kiss on your forehead, brushing your bangs away with a certain bleeding tenderness. “you don’t need to say it out loud. i know, anyway.”

and he does. suguru understands you better than anyone; a point of immense pride, for him. knowing you so deeply that he can practically hear your thoughts before you speak them, knowing what you need at a single glance. just from a certain furrow of your brows, or the slight tilt of a smile you’re trying to hide.

always one step ahead, folding your laundry on days you’re feeling particularly stressed out, or giving your hand a comforting squeeze when he notices that you’re nervous. always so attentive. it’s a little overwhelming, but also so comforting — to be so thoroughly understood.

his eyes are warm. full of pure affection, a devotion so heavy it makes your heart stutter in your chest. all you can do is glance down, shyly, slumping your forehead against his bare chest.

your voice comes out a little strangled, still raspy. a little wobbly in the wake of your adoration.

“i wanna appreciate you…” is muffled against his skin, your lips curled down into a soft pout. and suguru breathes out a flustered little breath, amused — somewhat delighted.

“you can appreciate me by eating a hearty breakfast,” he suggests, a teasing tilt to his husky voice. cradling you just a little closer, as if even the miniscule distance between you is unbearable. as if he needs your hearts pressed together to keep himself intact. “how about that, hm? or would you rather give me a kiss?”

a moment passes, and a sleepy hum slips from your tongue. he feels your lips touch the soft skin of his neck, once more; then you muster up the strength to pull back from his embrace, slumping against his shoulder with your back against the headboard. it takes concentrated effort.

and suguru chuckles, again. odd, how a man who’s normally so put-together can’t seem to ever hide his joy whenever you’re around. but suguru is just a little too weak for you — he can’t help but let you strum his heartstrings along, however you want. any kind of melody you desire.

(it just so happens that no melody sounds prettier than a joyous one, when it’s falling from his lips.)

a lovesick smile painted on his face, suguru watches as you finally dig in. and he thinks it’s precious, the strawberry juice smearing your lips, the contentment in your features as your eyelids flutter shut. a mellow kind of pride swells in his chest with every satisfied hum that you grace him with, every giddy declaration of how delicious it all is.

there’s something about it he can’t quite explain, can’t put his finger on. something almost otherworldly, in how fulfilled it makes him feel, like he’s lived his entire life just for this moment. just for the sake of making you breakfast and watching you wolf it all down.

suguru doesn’t think there's a single better way to show his love for you than this; cooking for you, putting every last drop of his love into everything he makes. from beverages to pastries, each of them carefully chosen to suit your tastes.

there’s an intensity to the labour, something that brings him great joy. the care and excitement in something as small as the flick of his wrist when he pours sugar into your coffee, or the weight he puts on the kitchen knife while cutting the fresh strawberries he spent four minutes picking out at the market.

there’s something about it that’s just so, so tender. that earnest wish to see you happy and healthy, to make sure you never go hungry. taking care of you. it's pure, domestic, love incarnate. he’s so weak for it, so sappy, but he just can’t help it — suguru loves watching you eat his cooking more than anything.

that, and your blissful little expression is a sight to behold. sunkissed by the morning rays flitting in through the window blinds, suguru thinks you look something like an angel, soft and fleeting and so beautiful it makes his heart squeeze painfully inside his chest. heavy thumps of blood; warmth trickling from his heart to his wrists to the pads of his fingers, as he rubs absentminded circles into the skin of your thighs.

and he thinks to himself that all the happiness he needs is right here in front of him. in this moment, with you tiredly munching on the breakfast he made, sipping slowly from your cup of coffee and savouring every last drop. smiling at him so sweetly, so positively precious that he simply can't resist leaning down to taste the caffeine off your lips.

everything feels so wonderful, so completely and utterly right. the world feels so kind, like this. a world where all that exists is you, and him, and the sun. heaven on earth.

all of it sends a tremor running through his heart, every slight change of the scene reflected in his eyes. the soft smile on your lips, the way you lean your head against his shoulder and bite back a yawn, the expectant look in your eyes as you feed him pieces of your food with a giddy grin —

suguru thinks to himself that he’d sooner die than give it up.

as much as he loves sleeping in, loves indulging in your warmth until the sun sits comfortably on the blue canvas of the sky, he loves this even more. loves dragging himself out of bed before the sun even has a chance to peek out beneath the horizon painted pink and purple, tired and groggy, and so disgruntled at the warmth that leaves him when he pulls away from your skin. loves making his way to the kitchen almost in a daze, moving around the open space so very naturally; fingers curling around the lid of the espresso machine, and the crinkled paper bag of pastries, and the carton of orange juice he bought just for you.

just watching the world wake up, basking in the peace and domesticity of it all. basking in the thought of you — you, with your messy bedhead and droopy eyes, always blinking up at him so sleepily when he returns to you in the morning. he loves it all.

the soft little frown that sometimes tugs at your lips when you’re still lost in dreamland, blindly and subconsciously reaching for the empty side of the bed when he gets up to stretch. the weight of your arms around his waist, hugging his back on the somewhat rare occasion that you make your way to him before he makes his way to you. the grumbles against his skin about how he always abandons you on your days off, even if he only does it so he can make you both coffee.

you, in all your glory — now resting against his shoulder as you plop the last strawberry into your mouth, closing your eyes with a blissful little sigh.

and suguru feels so lucky. so very honoured, to be the one you chose. the one and only person who gets to see you like this, when your voice is still raspy and your hair is still messy, and you have crumbs sticking to your soft lips that you're too sleepy to wipe away.

he does so, himself, with an amused little huff that’s really more of a sigh laced with adoration. thumb smoothing over your skin gently, a silent i love you hanging on the tip of his tongue. his fingers find their way to your skin so effortlessly. like they belong there, like they exist solely to trace the softness of your jaw and to cradle your cheek.

”thank you,” you beam up at him, grinning sweetly.

and suguru knows that you mean it. he knows that you’re grateful, knows not a moment goes by when you don’t notice his affections, no matter how subtle. he thinks you're a little bit silly for worrying that he doesn't. but he thinks you're even sillier for not realizing that you deserve all of it and more, that just that sweet smile of yours alone is more than enough to make up for it.

more than anything, he hopes from the bottom of his heart that you know the opposite is true as well. that he appreciates every single thing you do, notices everything you do for him, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem to you.

you're so good to him. always have been. how could he ever bear to not repay you in tenfold?

”you’re welcome,” he smiles, soft and saccharine and genuine. his lips brush against your forehead with a soft peck, one that has your body melting into his just a little more.

breakfast passes you both by in a flurry of warmth, splotches of sunlight and content hums, until you’re lying side by side beneath the blankets once again. curled up close to each other, with you resting on suguru’s chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart. his arm rests on your back, cradling you closer.

”that was delicious,” you chirp, something soft buzzing in your voice as you bite back a yawn. stretching your limbs out lazily, a honeyed smile on your face. ”as always.”

suguru’s a little too tired to fully hide the soft grin that crawls up to rest on his lips, almost smug. awfully happy with himself, and your words of earnest praise.

“yeah? ’m glad,” he hums, looking at you with affection swimming in his eyes. ”i haven’t lost my touch yet, then.”

”of course not,” you exhale, somewhere in between a huff and a chirp. “you could start a whole breakfast diner with your skills!”

the words are teasing, a little much, but laced with a syrupy sweet sincerity that has suguru’s heart doing laps in his chest. thump, thump, thump — strumming his heartstrings along as you please, conducting the orchestra inside his ribcage. but he’d much prefer to think of you as his muse.

a low chuckle rumbles through his body, akin to a purr. buzzing right by your ear, as his fingers curl around yours, his thumb rubbing soft circles into the skin of your hand. ”you think so?”

an eager nod, as you gaze up at him happily. the sight makes his lips twitch upward, and he can only hope you don’t catch the way his heart skips a beat.

smoothing a large palm over your head, he tousles your hair fondly. ”yeah?” he chuckles, again. “you'll be my first customer, then.”

the smile on your face widens. ”will i get a discount?” you ask, a fuzzy contentment in the way your eyes glimmer. ”since i’m your favorite.”

suguru grins. a husky puff of laughter seeps out of his throat, filling the air with a palpable fondness. it’s almost overwhelming, the affection that simmers in his chest, a cup overflowing. he wants to reach over and smother you in kisses, wants to coo at you. wants to tell you how irresistable you are, like this; so cute and sleepy that he thinks you could probably coax him into giving you every star in the sky.

but that can all wait for another time. he doesn’t want to break the peace of the mellow moment, the subtle intimacy that lingers in the air. the playfulness in your words.

”of course,” he simply says, indulging you with a sweet smile. ”you’ll get all the discounts you want, baby. nothing less for my favorite customer.”

suguru’s eyes crinkle, brimming with love when he hears the happy little giggle that tumbles from your pretty lips. so pretty that he can’t resist pulling you a little closer, to give you another kiss — relishing in the way you soften against him. like you could fall asleep just like this, so safe and comfortable. breathing him in.

sunlight shines in through the window blinds, engulfing you in that familiar heavenly hue. your bedroom almost seems to glow, like a hazy polaroid, a moment that feels too precious to put into words.

you look stunning, he thinks, with your droopy eyes and sleepy yawns. absolutely breathtaking. soaked in a brightness rivaling that of the sun herself, the most precious thing this world has to offer.

and suguru thinks to himself that this might just be it. that this might be all that he needs, all that he’ll ever need — but he already knew that.

he thinks of sunrises. of soft embraces and fluffy blankets, of expensive coffee pots and diamond rings, of the way your lips curl up every time he kisses you. he thinks of the light of morning, how it always seems to devour everything else. how it makes every sliver of darkness seem so inconsequential.

he thinks of how your presence always seems to do the same.

when suguru looks down, pulled out of his lovesick stupor by the sound of a little snore, you’ve fallen back asleep. cheek squished against his bare chest, drooling a smidge as you dream so prettily, your chest rising up and down in a rhythmic serenity.

his heart flutters. fleeting and giddy, a little dove trapped in his chest. with a sweet coo, he reaches over to caress your skin with the back of his hand, careful not to wake you — so gentle that he holds his breath, as if afraid that even a single exhale could disrupt your well-deserved rest.

butterflies dance in his stomach, when he sees the way that makes you smile. a whirlwind of them, wings fluttering eagerly, as if attempting to fly out of his throat. he gulps them down again, but he can still feel them. just like he could when you first met.

butterflies that still haven't gone away, despite how long you’ve been together. butterflies that never will go away, as long as there are plates to fill and breakfasts to be made.

in other words, they're there to stay — forever and ever.

(suguru’s gaze falls on your ring finger. he thinks of the secret in the bottom of the drawer, and wonders what kind of breakfast he should make for you when it’s time to bring it out.)

#im normal abt him!! i swear i am!!!!!#smth about extremely devoted malewives with black hair just do it for me #suguru geto n aki hayakawa are like this🤞in my brain #i think suguru was like. crafted specifically to look good in the morning #like that deep voice……. his hair in a messy bun………. wearing sweatpants w no shirt……………….. i am on my hands n knees #this ended up almost as a parallel to my gojo fic…. it wasnt even intentional blame stsgs soulmatism #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #geto fluff #geto suguru x you #jjk geto #jjk x reader #jjk

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bakugoushotwife · 8 months

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kinktober day twelve: threesome kink

>>> brain go brrrr! i can only write a stsg threesome i swear it's bad these days. i just love this dynamic so bad and am clinically addicted omfg i hope u all love it as bad as i do--it is officially the longest piece thus far

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!fem!reader x suguru geto >>> cw: mfm threesome, m/m interaction, fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! receiving), spitroasting, reverse cowgirl, double penetration (same hole), overstimulation, hard dom!geto, pleasure dom!gojo, switch gojo, switch reader, squirting, creampie(s). >>> wc: 5.3k >>> event masterlist

he’s not sure when things changed. he’d always seen you in one light, he thought: his friend, his teammate, and a powerful sorceress that made the group a triple threat. you were easy to get along with and impressive to work alongside. you were also funny and had the same taste in music as him, which was a method of bonding during your early years of school. and sure, you were also insanely beautiful, but it was inappropriate for him to have a crush on his classmate. besides, yaga says it’s best not to intermingle with other sorcerers anyways. it would only complicate things, especially as you grow to be closer friends. so geto dated around to distance himself beyond missions and tried to to forget the butterflies your smile gave him for the sake of your group. with his luck, you were probably into satoru anyway.

he’s always been in love with you, he thinks, but enjoyed playing hard to get. unlike suguru, he didn’t shy away from spending time with you. he loved to follow you around campus with his arm hooked around your waist, all big grins and pick up lines that made you roll your eyes every time. he was able to play it off on his nature, claiming that annoying you was worth every extra second of his time. he was all too fond of your amazing skill and intellect, your immense beauty and body for days was only an added benefit. gojo made it a point to train with you exclusively, something that brought the two of you closer and allowed you to see the serious side of one of your best friends. he could never bring himself to make a real move. with his luck, you were probably into suguru anyway—like everyone else.

this delicate balance continued through the rest of your years at jujutsu tech and into your young adult years. the strongest, the curse-eater, and the girl that captured both of their hearts–and connected theirs to each other. gojo was able to satiate himself on his little touches and glimpses of your flustered smiles, shamelessly jerking off at night to the daydreams he has of his precious little girl best friend bouncing on his cock and moaning his name. geto tries to delude himself into feeling like a protective older brother, making it his job to monitor your safety and suitors. but no matter how much he tries, his hand still finds his cock in the comfort of his own bed in the middle of the night, shamefully pleasuring himself to the idea of having your body rocking beneath him and his hand around your neck.

everything gets worse—or better, depending on who you ask— when you all move in together. it was gojo’s idea, claiming his home was too big for just one singular man. so of course he would invite you to come live with him, he hoped to make you woman of the house at some point in the future anyway, so why not now? he extends the same invitation to his other best friend, only because he knows geto would kill him for taking you for himself. the men were close, closer than most friends in multiple ways, so it was no mystery that their shared crush on you eventually became common knowledge. neither of them minded the competition, seemingly convinced he would win your heart on his own before the other could do the same—or in the worst case scenario they would share you! (and whose idea do you think that was?)

but they had to up the ante.

it started small, geto dropped all his flings, even earning a few comments from you about how lonely he must be with his lack of company these days. he always chuckles and give you that suave smile of his, purring out a it’s time i get serious with a wink. he offered to make dinner nightly, making sure the brunt of housework didn’t fall on you since you were already on laundry duty. he always gave you rather selfish relationship advice, making sure you knew how differently he would treat a woman. it wasn’t lost on you, nor were gojo’s efforts.

he encouraged you to take his card and go crazy, often accompanying you on shopping sprees for the house and making sure you leave with an armful of new clothes and whatever else your eyes lingered on too long. satoru showed you his serious side, keeping the house regularly dusted and the floors cleaned, insisting a family should clean up after themselves and not keep servants to make their lives more detached. he invested in your hobbies, letting you try to teach him how to knit, play video games, even trying to do a little book club with you—that unfortunately, suguru was better at, much to his disappointment.

you weren’t dim, you could tell what was happening. you had your suspicions for a while, the two of them practically glued to your sides at all times nowadays—unless one of you was away on a mission, which happened far too often for their liking. you would be lying if you said their attention didn’t make you feel like the luckiest woman in the world, the two were easily the strongest sorcerers the world had to offer if you didn’t take one of those spots for yourself. they were both undeniably gorgeous in their own ways—so how could you possibly choose? your forced obliviousness is the only thing keeping you three firmly planted in friendshipville. though, it’s been more than obvious that you haven’t been seeing anyone outside of them, thank god, and you’re getting antsy. you have to apply more pressure, figure out something that would push them over the edge. you had to keep them competing for you since you couldn’t pick one over the other on your own. aha, you’ve got it—it’s low, scheming even, but you’re growing desperate. you’d just have to dust off your best acting skills and sluttiest outfit.

it was late that night. you knew the boys were still awake, able to hear their laughter from your room. with one final and steadying breath, you peeked into the living room. they were sitting together on the couch watching a movie that was forgotten about as soon as you walked in, the soft sound of your door closing behind drawing their attention. you were evil in your cropped tank that made it painfully clear that was the only thing covering your perky tits, and it didn’t stop there. you didn’t bother with shorts, a cute thong cupping your pussy and sitting along those glorious wide hips. they could die–the effect you have is clear immediately. suguru clutches a throw pillow over his lap, hoping to smoothly hide the throbbing erection just looking at you gave him, while satoru only makes his more obvious by spreading his legs—at least geto tried to respect you. their eyes are practically bulging from their heads, suguru’s lip was between his teeth meanwhile satoru’s curls into a smirk.

“you guys are being so loud out here.” you bat your eyes innocently, twirling a lock of your hair around your finger as you let your gaze bounce between them. gojo slides his glasses off, a bit starstruck as he sets them aside and looks over to suguru, needing him to be on the same page.

“sorry princess,” satoru pouts, patting the spot in between him and geto. “since you’re up…why don’t you hang out with us?” you note the greed swimming in those all-seeing eyes. you force some bashfulness.

“oh–dressed like this?” you rotate your hips a little bit to further your point and suguru has to clench his jaw tight to not groan aloud. “i wouldn't wanna make you guys uncomfortable.”

“you won’t.” suguru blurts out, tucking some of his overgrown bangs behind his ear. satoru nods his agreement.

“yeah! you’re our girl, you could never make us uncomfortable.” the white headed one says, cunningly petting the cushion again. you smirk to yourself, giving them a faux-reluctant nod before striding to sit. your ass ripples as you step past suguru, and his dick throbs pathetically. as soon as your back touches the couch, satoru’s arm is around your waist to tug your upper half into a lean; then suguru puts a massive paw over your thigh, kneading and stroking the exposed skin gently. they’re both so close, the heavy feeling of their hands on your skin was intoxicating; you could hardly tell where one stopped and the other one began. their scents were so overbearing, suguru’s spicy cinnamon and bourbon contrasted the honeyed vanilla sweetness of satoru so perfectly it had you drunk and losing sight of your master plan before anything had even really happened. but don’t worry, they’ll take very good care of you. you’ve gotten the ball rolling, which is good enough, right?

they pretend to keep their eyes on the tv, heads forward like they don’t notice what the other was doing. satoru’s hand starts to creep under the hemline of your tank top, sinewy fingers long enough to brush against the underside of your breast. you hum softly at the touch, only encouraging the lean man to do it again. suguru watches patiently, waiting for more of your approval. you burrow deeper in his side, pushing your chest out even further. he could practically giggle with excitement at your eagerness. suguru scoots closer, sliding his arm across your lower back to grab handfuls of your thick ass free to fondle thanks to your slutty panties. your weight falls back to the middle, wanting to give geto more of your attention. he smiles at satoru at the action, taking it as a sign of your affection. the other man rolls his eyes, leaning into your side to nuzzle your cheek.

the black haired man does the same into your neck, their hands kneading and rubbing and stroking your skin. you lean your head back against the couch, throwing your arms around them to encourage them further with a blissed out grin of your own.

“our slutty little roommate came dressed like that for a reason.” satoru snickers, bringing his other hand to cradle your jawline, tossing a wink towards his dark haired counterpart.

you hum, prying your eyes open to look at him with a smirk. “course i did…just like you asked me to move in for a reason and sugu gives me back massages for a reason.” you muse, humming as you walk your fingers down their spines. they look at each other with slight surprise, clearly they thought you were unsuspecting of them all this time. you chuckle softly, trailing your digits down their arms to close around their wrists, moving their massive hands to your chest, a boob each. you smirk at them. “everything that’s about to go down is only because i want it to happen, understand?”

you look at gojo first, reveling in his amused expression. he hadn’t expected you to take over and become the boss, but he wasn’t necessarily opposed either. it was sexy to think that he had fallen for your trap, and not the other way around. he’d happily do anything that you wanted, all he wanted was you. you arch your brow and he nods dumbly, nuzzling into your cheek again to show his devotion. no woman had tamed him before, but it wouldn’t be so bad to start now, especially not when the woman in question is his very sexy best friend. you give him a soft smile of approval before turning to the real work, geto.

many women had tried and failed to tame him, and he thought it was pretty funny each and every time. but now here you are, his gorgeous lady best friend, prepared to tell him what to do and exactly how to do it. now that was just plain adorable. you could see see the flames of intrigue flicker in his obsidian eyes, a gaze so intense it made you shrink into satoru a little bit. suguru was being hand gifted the only thing he’s ever wished for, but he would still have it on his terms. he squeezes down harshly on your breast, making you squirm. “cute. we wanted this longer though, so. how about you listen to me instead?”

you scoff, looking down at his hand on you. “don’t act so bold now, sugu. if you wanted to be in charge, you should have acted like it.” you tease, and even gojo smirks behind you. he thought it would be pretty amusing to watch you two battle for dominance, though he’s smart enough to capitalize on an opportunity when he sees one. he pulls you against him, kneading your hips and giving your exposed neck sweet sloppy kisses, all playing into your favor. “maybe i’ll let you give out orders next time–but if you want to be a diva, i’ll just fuck satoru—i’m sure he’s more than enough.”

the mentioned man hums, happy to be in your good graces and your leveraging tool. nothing drives suguru crazier than watching gojo get all the attention. geto gives you a look of dissatisfaction, only pushing you to climb onto your lanky friend’s lap, smiling down at him like an angel from heaven. gojo thought he may die right here. you’re perfect, the way your weight feels in his lap pressing up against his semi is so glorious already he’s afraid he may embarrass himself. his hands find your waist, and he’s looking up to you like he has no idea what to do next. he really is so clueless that it’s adorable. satoru acted like a pussy magnet, which wasn’t necessarily wrong since he is so gorgeous, powerful, and tall, but he never knew how to interact with them—especially since all his fantasies consisted of you, anyway. you smile down at him again and he knows it will be alright, that he��ll do what he does best and learn on the fly—he has to make you feel good.

“take my shirt off, baby.” you coo to him, lifting your arms a bit so he could peel it off. He leans forward unsurely, almost looking to geto for approval before he pinches the fabric and brings it over your head. your tits fall from the little tank top holding them in place, a beautifully heavy chest with pebbled buds wait, calling gojo’s name. his face turns red and he looks up to you for the next order, feeling his semi grow into a full blown problem. geto watches you with narrowed eyes, aching bulge straining against his pants still, and you were only making it worse. he curses himself for being enamored with someone like you, an expert in pushing buttons. you’re his woman whether you know it or not, and he’s only willing to share you with his bestest of friends, even if you were grating on his last nerve.

“do what feels natural, sato.” you breathe out, focused on the way his eyes grow at your permission and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. he’s been fixated on you as long as he can remember, and now it was his time to prove that he was the one for you. he drags your hips closer, wanting you to feel his erection pressing into that tiny thong you had the nerve to put on. you gasp in surprise, though a giggle quickly replaces the sound. you rest your arms on his shoulders, content to twirl locks of snowy white around your fingers. he groans at the sensation, struggling to keep his head on straight already. your body is so warm beneath his hands, so soft and pliable. you duck your head down to kiss him, and he tilts his head up to receive it. it swallows up all his senses, tunneling out everything around him to only focus on your touch, taste, and smell. he’s hungry, eager to prove his worth as a lover, wanting nothing else but to make you feel good. he grabs at your hips to feel you closer, and you indulge by circling your movements in his lap. he moans into your mouth as he feels your tits brush up against his shirt, making him break the kiss and lean back so he could get it off. he does it so quick that you aren’t prepared for his mouth to smack up against yours again, teeth clashing. you giggle again, enchanted by his boyish charm and overwhelming affection for you. it was sweet, and even though he was inexperienced, his kisses were full of passion and heat.

geto had mixed feelings. on one hand, you looked magnificent. your body is like nothing he’s ever seen before, almost to the point of unfairness. no woman could ever compare after this. he’d either have to marry you or be forever disappointed. but, on the other hand, you were wiggling around in gojo’s lap instead of his, and that’s only tolerable for so long. gojo is lucky still, if it were anyone else there would be no tolerance at all. but his patience is wearing thin, especially once you start letting little moans of your own go because of satoru’s big hands massaging your tits and his bulge catching on your puffy clothed clit. you even sound angelic, and it’s pissing him off. this was just a display of your power over them, but suguru wanted to teach a few lessons of his own. he scoots closer, letting his hands mingle around with satoru’s, feeling the dips of your body.

you can feel his touch, easily differentiating between satoru and suguru. your lanky friend’s hands were slimmer and warmer–moving around clumsily. your dark locked counterpart moved with more experience, his fingers thicker and rougher. you smirk at his impatience, clearly not able to be as obedient as dear satoru. you knew it would go like this, with gojo doing anything to please you and geto vying for control himself. you didn’t mind—you know it would push gojo to compete.

geto wastes no time in pulling you off of gojo’s lap and into his own, much to his friend’s disappointment. you give him a pointed look, brow raised and all, but you still wrap your arms around his shoulders the same way you did your other bestie. he smirks up at you, expecting nothing but your compliance once he sees how wet gojo got you. he can tell from the look in your eyes that you don’t have a lot of fight left in you despite the way you act, and that’s perfect for him. he plans to make you brainless, able to remember nothing but him anyway.

“greedy much?” you tease, tossing a look to the pouty white-haired boy watching with contempt. suguru shrugs.

“hardly, just proving that he is not all you need.” he smiles up at you innocently, raking his touch over your thighs. unlike gojo, he knows exactly how to work you up and melt in his hands. gojo harrumphs in the corner of the couch. geto’s brow creeps up even though his head is laxly leaned back against the sofa. he watches you like he owns you, and you love the contrast between the two boys. you roll your eyes and lean down to kiss him anyway, and his lips tell you that the show is over. he gnashes his teeth against your lip, making you squeal and open up for him, wherein he promptly shoves his tongue in to smother yours out. your fingers card through the black tresses cascading over his shoulders and down his back as you hum into his mouth. he’s humming at your eagerness, letting his hand drift from the meaty parts of your hips over to the wet patch on your panties, grinning when you gasp. he works his deft fingers over your heat, and gojo makes a strangled noise as he watches you lewdly suck on geto’s tongue. you let your hips roll into his hand, his other one coming down on your rippling ass. you moan softly, prompting him to spank you again, much to satoru’s enjoyment.

“s’fat, looks so pretty when you do that.” he compliments his friend, shoving out of his pants in anticipation of what comes next. his hand grabs around his proud length, pumping the curved shaft for minimal relief. geto hisses, feeling your hips move desperately towards your own release. he slaps your ass a third time, making you groan out and toss your head back, the picture of a perfect mess.

“gonna cum already?” he tsked, though the smirk on his face betrays him. you nod, tugging on the roots of his hair hard enough to cause a little sting. satoru groans, tired of watching and desperate for any form of aid, but you’re too intoxicating to rush. “then cum.” he demands, stopping his touch.

he knew he had pushed you far enough already, feeling your pelvis stutter against his hand. he watches you come undone, digging pearly white teeth into swollen lips as you dampen your panties another level. he doesn’t give you any type of reprieve before he’s pushing and tugging and arranging you for his preference on the cluttered couch. your brain is foggy already, clit throbbing from satoru’s craze and suguru’s abuse. he’s got you on all fours, face positioned over a huge cock nestled in trimmed white hair.

“be easy on her, satoru.” geto warns as gojo gets to his knees, fisting your hair to get your attention. if you enjoyed suguru’s dominance then he would try some of his own. he directs your mouth over his leaky tip, and you stick out your tongue to encourage him. he nearly shudders just from that, and you whine at the feeling of geto sliding his hands down your ass and thighs with his breath fanning over your shiny hole. you’re gagging on satoru’s length hitting the back of your throat as suguru his fat tongue licks a teasingly slow stripe down your slit. you can’t help but pressed yourself further back into his muscle and force yourself down to the hilt of satoru. he groans loudly, giving you a taste of your own medicine with how he pulls on your hair. he guides you along him, amazed at how much better you feel than his hand. your velvet cheeks feel so wet and warm, it’s amazing he doesn’t cum down your throat instantly. meanwhile geto eats you from the back, sucking on your lips and nudging up against your bud in alternating motions, making your head cloud up with dizziness. that could be from the lack of air you’re able to get in around gojo’s cock stuffing your mouth, tears sliding down your flustered cheeks and drool spilling out around him. he’s whimpering, the sound of him coupled with squelching from both ends had suguru grunting into your folds, letting your sweet essence dribble down his chin. he’s grabbing handfuls of your ass, bruising and smacking the fat. your hands explore the lean expanse that is satoru’s body, muscular thighs keeping you steady and flexing abs making you clench around your other friend’s tongue.

“gah, this—is amazing–fu-huck.” satoru whines, fisting your hair as his cock jumps at the sight of you. you moan your approval, pussy spasming for geto once again without warning, releasing on his face this time. your vision is already blurring, pleasure ripping through you all at once. he’s drunk on the taste of you, sitting upright on his knees as he scoops some of your cum out, coating his fingers with the slick. he may be the slightest bit possessive, but what’s his is gojo’s, and he had to let the other man taste you and get just as pussydrunk as he is. his other hand tugs you off his friend’s dick with a pop, pushing his hardness to the crack of your ass. he leans over you, body like a slab of concrete as he extends his hand to gojo. he leans up immediately, and you’re amazed at the sight of satoru sucking your juice off of suguru’s fingers, moaning slightly at your taste. geto smirks at him, settling back to his original spot. gojo grins widely as he wipes some residual tears from your face.

“she’s so pretty, tell her suguru.” he sings, pushing some hair out of your face as the aforementioned wraps a beefy arm around your waist and pulls you to a sitting position against him. he’s so solid, you can feel how thick and long he is against your back, and it makes you tingle with need like you haven’t came twice already. he pulls you along as he repositions himself, sitting on the couch like it’s intended to be used for with you balanced on his abdomen.

“oh of course, our pretty lady is the only girl i see.” suguru croons, pulling your hair into a ponytail just because he could. you look down at his cock, biting down on your lip at the sight. he was an inch or two shorter than gojo, but made up for it with his thickness. he had veins running along the shaft much like his muscular arms, and a dark tip growing impatient. they were perfect, you knew they would please you in different ways, but you had to have them both.

when satoru gets to his feet and stands in front of you, pale fingers stroking his pretty cock, you knew that was their plan.

geto snakes his hands to your thighs, prying them apart with little resistance from you. he lifts you with this grip, lowering you down all at once on him. he chuckles when you hiss and squirm at the stretch, feeling like a hot knife just gutted you. suguru continues sinking his hips into the cushions below and slamming them back up into you, locking eyes with his best friend eagerly awaiting his turn. you were a whimpering mess, falling back against the man railing you and leaving him responsible for holding you upright as your head finds home on his shoulder.

“if i go easy on you now, you won’t be able to fit us.” suguru explains with a labored breath, your walls so tight he didn’t know if you’d be able to take them anyhow—but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. you nod your understanding, moving your hips to help his strokes hit even deeper. you already feel so full, you can’t imagine what it’s gonna be like when satoru tries to push in. “so fucking wet for your best friends, you’ll take us, won’t you?”

you nod vigorously. it feels like you’re floating, every snap of suguru’s hips slammed his cock impossibly deeper. you knew your little act of control would only last so long, but it worked beautifully. if not for you, they’d probably be jacking off to you for the foreseeable future.

“say it, wanna hear it from our girl’s mouth.” he coos, the tone of his voice so contradictory to what he actually says. it makes your pussy squeeze him anyway.

“wanna take my best friend’s cocks.” you babble, feeling satoru’s hands on your waist again.

“and what else?” suguru groans, almost irritated that your pussy fucked this good and you’ve had the nerve to keep it to yourself all this time. his hand closes around your throat this time, trusting satoru to keep you from falling over. you were so pliable and it was such a treat to hear you talk like this.

“and i’m soaking wet for you both, god–stop teasin’.” you whine, batting your eyes at satoru. he’s sympathetic to your cause, wanting nothing more than to shove his rod deep in you and wonder who makes you feel better, not keen to wait for orders anymore, eager to earn your praise. suguru has your legs spread open perfectly; so while geto snickers from your answer, gojo steps forward and shoves his cock over his best friend’s and into your choking cunt. the feeling takes even suguru aback as you cry out from the stretch. It’s impossible, it’s too much, you feel like they’ll break you in half if they start to move, but the burning subsides, your fingers digging at gojo’s chest when suguru starts to move.

all three of you moan. it’s too good not to, your cunt locking the men against each other, rubbing against your silken walls and the bumpy texture of the other’s ridges was the best way to fuck, they found out. suguru is slow, and prompts gojo to go even slower, feeling you loosen up as the pressure of them in your gut only makes you delirious. you’re so loud, nasty moans and curses coming from your lips as their pace increases, the two men locked in competition to make you and even the other cum first. satoru leans in, pressing his rock hard abdomen against you and deepening his angle. he has to balance himself by bracing his hand on suguru’s other shoulder, both of you close enough to kiss. this was how it was always meant to be, the three of you. he gives you a sloppy kiss, his free hand cupping your cheek to tell you how much this means to him. geto’s caught up in the moment, he tells himself, but everything feels so clear. they were never in competition—you needed them both, and he needed you both, and satoru needed the two of you both. then he feels it, a sloppy kiss meant for him, and he hums in realization. it wasn’t much different from kissing you, though satoru certainly needed the practice. you moan lewdly, the sounds of your cunt being stuffed and their grunts and groans of pleasure provide the soundtrack as they work in tandem to drive you crazy.

“g’na–ngh–cum boys, ohhh~” you cry, legs starting to shake in suguru’s grip. they break their kiss to watch you jerk and jump, fucking into you as deep as their hips will allow. Satoru presses his fingers to your clit, hoping to increase your cute little spasms, but what you do instead is even sexier. you push at his shoulders, a clear liquid gushing and spraying over his abdomen and dripping down your cunt to cover suguru’s balls, leaving them both gaping in amazement.

“that’s a good fucking girl, shit–” suguru mumbles, watching satoru’s face scrunch up in overwhelming pleasure. he doesn’t warn you, holding your hips down to receive all of his cum, the hot feeling making you writhe and moan in his lap to send satoru spurting too. it’s so much, the burning warmth in your gut, their seed mixing together inside of you and gushing out around them both, making such a mess you’re almost embarrassed. satoru slumps forward to kiss you all over, mumbling out thanks for letting them destroy you like this as he lifts you off of suguru, cuddling up with you—mess be damned. you’re panting, sensitive, and dripping but you can’t stop grinning at your success. suguru rolls his eyes at satoru’s childishness, but it really just amuses him. he’d rather you have company as he cleans up the messes anyway, cleaning you and even satoru up before himself. satoru spoons you from behind and suguru shoves himself on the couch to hold you the other way, content at his display of power over the two strongest sorcerers in the room. everyone settles their breathing and into a lull of peace, the only sound in the room was the forgotten movie on the flatscreen, until.

“hey—i didn’t get to eat her outtttttt.” gojo whines, squeezing your body. you laugh, expecting geto to do the same, but he entertains this argument.

“you got your dick sucked—i didn’t get that—”

“we have plenty of time to even the score, shut up and let me sleep before i use my technique to un-fuck you.” you giggle.

#kyleewritesjjk #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #stsg #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 days

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Dirty Work 54

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I am back to work tmrw.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You choose a simple dress. You like the shade of peach even as Loki eyes you archly. It might not be the choice that offends him but the state of yourself. Your nose is still healing, bandaged but not as heavily, and you have much left to recover. His own injuries remain tinged on his pale skin.

You shimmy the dress on and turn your back to him as he drones cynically. His fingers creep up along your bottom to meet the zipper and he tugs it up slowly. He’s reluctant.

“What is it? You don’t like the dress?” You face him.

“I’d rather prefer you naked,” he purrs with a wink, “but I am not overly fond of the colour, no.”

“Oh, but... you bought it?”

“Yes, my sister did have it included in the purchase but... it is rather bright.”

“I like it,” you run your hands over your stomach and hips, “it fits nicely but if you want me to change...”

“No, darling, do what you wish,” he crosses his arms, “I must learn to let you do so.”

You narrow your eyes. His malleability does not come without resentment. You shrug. You don’t have all day to be sussing out his preference.

“What is it you and my mother have planned?” He asks.

“I’m not certain,” you say as you search for your phone. The one he gave you.

“No? Hm, darling, what about a necklace?” He goes to the jewellery box and plucks out a golden chain with a peridot emblem.

“I guess,” you dig around in your work bag, most of your luggage still unpacked.

“You guess? It is a pretty necklace. What about amethyst?”

“Loki,” you fish out your phone but not the one you meant to. Your old flip.

You put it down on the nightstand stiffly and return to your search. It feels so long ago that you were that person. That sad girl living with your father and flitting through a meandering existence. You won’t say you’ve moved up very much, still at the whim of a man, but you feel distant from that person.

Perhaps Walpurgisnacht was more a rebirth than you could know.

“Pet...” Loki comes closer as you retrieve your work phone. It’s dead.

“I need to charge it,” you show him the device.

“You should toss the old one. Doubt it even works.”

“I know, I will. I have to back it up,” you say evasively. There’s not much on it but it’s the only connection you still have to your previous life. You’re not ready to slice through that last strand.

“Mm, right then, well, another to do for the list,” he steps nearer and tickles your waist, “suppose you delay your little outing with my mother and I take you to lunch--”

“She’s a guest, and your mother,” you rebuke. “Loki, I’m only doing what I need to do. Isn’t that what you want?”

He sighs, “yes, but... it is still my house. I would like more than my leave. I should say when you need go pick out flowers or tablecloths or whatnot.”

“Proposals typically lead to all that,” you say, “at least from what I know.”

“What you know?” He muses.

“Yeah, I’ve seen a few Kate Hudson movies,” you quip and give a goofy smile but quickly repress it. “Sorry, that wasn’t... funny.”

His cheeks dimple and his nostrils flair, his lips slightly curved, “is that... humour? From you?”

“Well, I... yeah, why not?”

“Hm, it isn’t a slight but you are not one for laughter.”

“Or maybe you’ve never made me laugh,” you blurt out and quickly snap your mouth shut.

His brows drop and his smile too. You stare at him. Oops. You are getting to comfortable. Even if you are to be his wife, you aren’t his equal. You don’t know that you could ever be.

He chuckles, “darling, how very sharp.” He reaches to frame your chin and turns you to him completely, “I should try harder then, to hear your sweet laughs.”

You smile, a flutter in your chest, “that’s sweet.”

“I am sweet,” he says, offended. “What do you mean?”

You just stare at him. Is he kidding?

“Don’t,” he warns with a frown. “Very well, go, have fun. Should I need anything, I will be certain to let mother know since you will be without tether...” he keeps his hand on you, squeezing, “you will be safe with her, I know.”

“Loki,” you murmur, “he’s not coming back. He wouldn’t.”

He stares at you solemnly, “no, he shouldn’t.”

It seems as if he doubts his own words. For a moment, you do too. He knows his brother much better. Yet, how can Thor return when all have turned their backs on him?

“There is no hurry, mother can wait...”

“Loki, she’s only visiting,” you remind him, “the sooner it’s done, the sooner they go, right?”

“Mm, you are clever,” he looks past you with apprehension, “suppose so. And I should speak with father about some things...” he leans in and kisses your forehead, withdrawing absently as he taps his fingertips together, “weddings and such...”

You give him a look but he’s too distracted to notice. This whole affair is his idea and yet he is uncertain. You watch him placidly.

“We don’t have to... marry--”

“No, no,” he returns his attention to you, “of course we must. We will—how could you—oh, I know it is all very new to you, pet, but trust in me. It isn’t my first rodeo. Regrettably.”

You feel a pang at the allusion to his previous marriage. You remember Sif with her sleek figure and her perfect smile and her sparkling eyes. You are second in all ways to her.

“I should go,” you insist with a sniff.

“Mm, yes, you should,” he grabs your shoulders and lays another kiss, this time on your lips. “I have told mother very strictly not to dawdle so you shouldn’t either.”

“We’ll be fine,” you assure him.

“When did you get so confident,” he teases as he retracts from you.

You offer a sheepish smile. Not confident, but hopeful. A change nonetheless.

✨

Frigga insists on lunch before you do anything. You’re struck with deja vu as she returns to that same place you went to with her sons. That day feels like eons ago but it’s been just over a month.

The change feels all the more sudden after a lifetime of stagnancy. With your dad, every day blurred together, the constancy was as dull as it was oppressive. Yet, you mourn it all the same. The spontaneity and turbulence of your new existence proves just as paralysing at times.

You may have gone from maid to fiancee, but it doesn’t dissolve your expected deference. You are marrying into the Odinsons, they have no need to ingratiate themselves to you. Even as the reminder of her elder son troubles you, you will not mention your worries aloud to the matriarch.

Frigga orders a sparkling water with fruit, you ask for the same. The waitress is not subtle as she eyes your bandaged nose. Just another reason for you to feel out of place. It's tender but feels much better.

You peer up at the sky as you sit in the open patio and the scent of the curated flowers around the space wafts in the air. Your dress rustles and tickles your leg, causing you to flinch. Another flash of before. That day you ate with Thor at your side, his hand under the table...

You shudder and blow away the memory. You reach for your water and sip as you look over the entrees. Your appetite is erratic. One second you’re ravenous, the next, nauseous. The tuna sounds good but sickening at once. You’ll get a salad.

“We will have to plan an engagement party first. Perhaps a local venue for that,” she looks at her phone and turns it on its screen as you hear it buzzing.

“Or the house? I thought... the gazebo...”

“Mm, yes, I recall, what was the name of that contractor you hired? I wouldn’t mind a similar build back at our house. Oh, and perhaps if you did want to do the wedding at home as well, a wedding arch might be a thought. I’m certain a carpenter might be up to that task,” she continues, ignoring how her phone rattles her glass. “So, we’ll skip over venues then. But invitations, perhaps? Oo, do you have a dress in mind? A brunch or something in the evening?”

You can hardly keep up with her questions. At least she offers distraction from the shadow looming over your shoulder. Both of them. If it isn’t one son, it’s the other.

The waitress returns and you order. Frigga eyes you as she puts in for a monte cristo with the soup du jour. You try to smile. You’re tired.

“Are you okay, dear? You’ve not been eating very much.”

“Oh, haven’t I?” You squirm evasively. “I’m... fine, I guess I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Oh, darling, forgive me if I am overloading you,” she fans herself with her hand, “I apologise. I’ve a bad habit of getting head over feet about these things. I have so many ideas all at once but if I sit still, I feel I might burst.”

Her words call you back to Loki pacing and circling at the hotel, then at home, he manic muttering.

“It’s alright. I don’t think of any of it. I don’t know where to begin,” you assure her.

“Ah, well, yes, but I’ve had a wedding and my son’s had a wedding already,” she chuckles, “so I do have a bit more experience. You shouldn’t worry terribly if you have questions. I am simply here to guide you.”

“I know--”

Her phone shakes again and she sighs.

“Pardon,” she tilts the phone up and you see the incoming call; Loki. She quickly turns off the ringer. “My, he is a pest. It cannot be that important--”

“I don’t have my phone,” you say, “maybe he needs something.”

“My son can wait. He is so selfish. Especially about you. Surely, he trusts his own mother,” she scoffs, “anyhow, I think a luncheon might be pleasant enough. Perhaps with a theme. Summer is here and the flowers will be lovely this time of season.”

“Excuse me, miss,” the waitress comes up to the table, a cordless phone in her hand, “there’s a gentleman on the phone asking for you.”

You frown at Frigga then glance up, realising the woman is speaking to you. You blink and take the phone from her. You put it to your ear, staring at Frigga.

“Hello?”

“Pet,” Loki bursts eagerly, “oh, I knew you’d be there. Yes, I only wanted to check in, hear your voice, but I couldn’t get through to mother.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, sorry, we were just ordering--”

‘Give me the phone’ Frigga mouths and gestures.

“I...” you begin and her green eyes flare. You hand over the phone.

“Loki, this is not your time. You can wait. We are busy. You have a lovely day and we will be home in a few hours,” she says tritely, “certainly, you might find something to keep yourself busy.”

She doesn’t wait for his response as she hits the end button and hands the phone back to the server, thanking her with a smile. The brunette flits away and you tap your fingers on the table top. Frigga plays with a wave and pushes it behind her ear, “darling, don’t even worry about my son. You just focus on yourself.”��

“Thank you, I just...”

“You just don’t worry,” she repeats, “if my son has issue with us doing exactly as we told him we would, then he may take it up with me. Uh, he always was a needy little boy.”

You almost laugh. You might agree with part of her sentiment but you could never imagine Loki as a little boy. In your mind, he just seems as if he’s always been grown. Not like you.

You’ve always felt clueless and inadequate. As if you never moved past childhood, that you got caught behind some wall and watched the adults from afar. Yet, now that you’re on the other side, you still feel a barrier. Like them, but not the same.

Not like the Odinsons especially. A family. You don’t have any of that. The more you think of the wedding, the more you see empty seats. No bridesmaids, not father-daughter dance, no one on your side.

“Dear, have I upset you?” Frigga cuts the silence and you catch yourself staring at the table.

You shake your head and sit up, “no, sorry, just thinking...” you scramble for a lie. You hate that you do that so often now, “what about a tea party?”

“A tea party? Marvelous, I love it,” she trills, “oh, yes, we will have to find some fine porcelain for the event.”

“Loki has lots--”

“Yes, but this is special, dear. You’ll need a special set so you can always remember the party. Oh, and teas. There is a tea shop nearby. They sell loose leaf. We can have a whole array. Ooh, and biscuits, pastries...” she begins to list off. You let her, thankful to forget everything else for the minutest of details. Tea is easy.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor #series

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house-of-daena · 1 year

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my dear puppet [kabukimono x amab!reader]

content: no specified pronouns, afab!kabukimono, dom reader/sub kabukimono, nsfw, virginity taking, vanilla, corruption, size kink, tell me if i miss anything.

꒰ (pre fatui scara btw) this was supposed to be for a different post, but it didn't fit the concept so i just made this into a separate post. hi am back ꒱

he makes it so easy for you to lose control.

to just grab him by his ridiculously slim waist each time he presses his body against yours, to push him against a wall and finally capture his lips each time he pouts so cutely at you, or to make him cry prettily as he takes in your cock whenever he looks up at you with his big, innocent doe eyes that sparkle at the mere sight of you. he was so small compared to you, your own hands could easily grab both of his wrists if you wanted to.

though, he doesn't realize your struggles when it comes to restraining yourself against him.

he clings to you, almost too much, ever since you discovered the abandoned puppet inside shakkei pavilion. he cries your name whenever he's uncertain, he tugs on your sleeves when you've begun to stray farther from him- he was similar to a baby duckling. he was far too pure and innocent for the world you live in, and you intend to help him; teach him everything you knew; happiness, sadness, anger, love- about being human.

unfortunately, his innocence proves to be more of an inconvenience, especially to you. there are just some things that the puppet couldn't understand, no matter how many times you've clarified it to him.

he doesn't understand the immense desire you have to have him laying underneath you, squirming and crying whilst he rakes his delicate fingernails down your back. truly, it was his fault for filling your mind with such uncouth fantasies. he may be innocent, but he just wouldn't listen. the more he learns more about the world, the more stubborn and curious he becomes. so he unknowingly pushes your buttons to the limit.

his soft, unblemished hands touching you in places you'd warned him not to; fingertips lightly caressing your inner thigh as you sip on the tea he had prepared for you, slowly testing your patience by brushing his slim fingers over the growing bulge on your crotch, his face suddenly oh so close to you, lips inches apart. despite all of this, his eyes were filled with pure, genuine curiosity... and a tiny bit of mischief from disobeying you.

where did he learn all of this? you'll have to talk to the married ladies in your village later on...

the raiden shogun herself can strike you down if you were lying, you exasperatedly swore to the people who'd notice the puppet's rather explicit advances towards you that you've explained to him what these actions meant. still, he continues to be curious, wondering why your face gets all red, your breath getting caught in your throat, your hands itching to touch him, instead of looking down at him in disgust and pushing him away.

the kabukimono doesn't really understand the whole concept of what he was insinuating, making love, as they call it, but he does know that it's meant to deepen the bond between two people. people that are in love. and even he could tell that when you look at him, it holds a different kind of fondness. him, and only him. he kisses you on the corners of your lips, hands pressed against your wide chest- slowly, he became more bold. you've told him to stop, but you hesitate. you never once told him you were discomforted at his actions, he could sense that you were quite enjoying it, craving desperately for more, but would rather gently scold him for the nth time.

you're just, but a man after all. a man with wild carnal desires for the puppet that straddles your lap. he was too innocent, too pure for you. once you delve deep into your urges, he will become corrupted, perhaps starved for more; addicted. merely touching him sent shivers down your spine. you had warned him, hands shakily settling on his hips as he lowers himself down on your lap finally, and yet he chose to accept it. if it was you, the person he loves with his whole heart, the person that never treated him differently than others, the one who taught him everything when it comes to love, he would let you corrupt him again and again, just to hold you close to him, to feel you, your love and your entire being.

he doesn't understand the weight of his words or the consequences of his curiosity. so you'll make him understand.

you shouldn't have doubted that your dearest puppet could never get more precious than he is now. lashes glittering from the tears that rolled down his pink cheeks, and lips that opened and closed simultaneously as the pretty noises that you never thought you'd hear escaped him. his chest heaved at each moan, his legs tightly wrapped around your waist as if he refuses for you to ever pull away from him, and his hands, so gentle and small, cupping your face. how he managed to maintain eye contact with you whilst you slowly plunged yourself deep inside his walls makes you wonder, but it only added more fuel to your burning fire of passion and lust for him.

he was so sweet, whispering loving praises only meant for you as you fuck into him. as much as you want to just grab his ankles and fold him, to just relentlessly pound your thick cock deeper into his quivering pussy, you held yourself back for the sake of the love of your life. he cried at the feeling of your dick drag agonizingly slow in and out of his pussy, clamping so tight onto you despite the foreign feeling of being so full. he desperately desired more as he pulled your face closer to him, kissing you like there's no tomorrow.

but you wanted to be gentle with him first. you wanted to make him feel how much you love him, that you accept him for who he is, despite all his flaws. with every inch, you bury deeper amounts much more of your affection for him. leaning against his caring touch, you bring your hand up to your cheek and placed it atop his hand.

you could always do the things you've fantasized about him now that you have him wrapped around your fingers, you know he'd let you do anything to him. as long it was you, only you. you'll return his love for you by sending him into a deep spiral of pure bliss by simply loving him.

#» asmo's writings #» kuni/scara/wanderer #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #sub genshin #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader

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shorthaltsjester · 8 months

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god i cannot express how impressed in general i am with the storytelling that cr is doing with candela obscura but what really strikes me is how evident it is that the storytelling they do is defined by the hearts of those who are putting it together rather than adhering to a specific idea or image of a given story that they want to uphold. there is such a stark difference between the tones of chapter one and chapter two (to the fault of neither, i’ve enjoyed them both immensely because they both happen to hit parts of the supernatural-horror genre that I am so deeply fond of and so happy to see in a real play medium).

there’s the obvious difference in gming styles, matt has fantasy running through his veins and that’s evident in the way that chapter one ends up having a tone akin to something like the scarier episodes of buffy the vampire slayer. spenser outright references mike flanagan in his pre-interview thing and good grief is that so so evident in his narration and the way he emphasizes the themes emerging in the story in the environment of the world they journey through and choices like the letter from sean’s mother that subvert the audiences ability to rely on a character’s perception.

but the energy the groups of players bring to the storytelling is obviously also so important, too. like, even just looking at the groups prior to watching each I probably could’ve guessed which might’ve had a more lighthearted tone. the combination of ashley, anjali, and robbie already would be one i’d guess a more warm/goofy vibe for (not to say they can’t be serious and dramatic, but the tone of the seriousness is still warm and the world that prompts them towards drama likewise feels warm) and laura, despite her propensity for goofs, does tend to be a chameleon with group make ups. likewise i think we all had a certain (affectionate) fear™ when it was revealed that marisha, brennan, luis, and travis would be reuniting in another short form story and that has certainly held up and been incredibly bolstered by zehra’s absolute commitment and immersion into the story (constantly fucking blown away that this is her first real play she’s incredible).

this is all just to say as someone deeply interested in digital storytelling, i am so so enamoured by cr’s commitment to following their own desires as humans telling stories to one another while adhering to the requirements they have as a company. and also if you haven’t you should watch candela obscura, especially now that spooky season is here.

#candela obscura #the vassal and the veil #the circle of needle and thread #spenser starke #matt mercer #critical role #candela obscura chapter 1 #candela obscura chapter 2 #i want to make it so so immensely clear that when i say chapter 1 was warm i don’t mean like. light because there was some Shit in it #but the world felt much much kinder in chapter 1 and that has a lot to do with matt and his storytelling #but also given the session one where robbie was like :((( idk if i wanna be enemies for this #it speaks to the heart of them All as storytellers that chapter 1 is a Warmer world with people trying their best #whereas spenser has crafted a cold world that the backstories and attitudes of the players and their characters echoes #but it’s still one where the people are trying their best #god i’m just so so impressed with candela obscura

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pendwelling · 1 year

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Venetiaan vs. Riester fashion🌷

(ft. model Yeseo and Cédric's imagination~)

Additional notes! :D

Venetiaan fashion:

Inspired by 16th-century Western aristocratic clothing (as confirmed by Sookym). Supporting that, both Losna and Werner have been shown wearing furs and robes!

Round cheongsam-like collars

Wide and flowy sleeves/arms/silhouette

Buttons are distinct from Riester's

Riester fashion:

19th?-century inspired

Suits, vests, button-ups! Neckties are in style since the collars permits it, unlike Venetiaan's high and round collars

Typically slim silhouettes for men (with the exception of cloaks and tailcoats)

(Honestly I just think of it as the typical RoFan webtoon visual fashion LMFAO)

This is just my interpretation haha, it's sorta what I gathered from the info given by Sookym in both in-novel and their notes! Distinct fashion/culture between Venetiaan and Riester has always been interesting to me, especially since Jesse (and Johann) have been noted to switch clothing styles once they become more concretely affiliated with the Riester Empire. (I tried giving Jesse more colourful/darker attires for his Venetiaan wardrobe like in my references pics, but his palette works best with whites/light colours so I couldn't bring myself to do it wkdhdkdksk)

When we first meet Johann, he is distinctly from Venetiaan, wearning its clothing and even greeting Jesse, the prince from said country, as "Your Highness" (which is what people from Riester call Cédric) rather than "prince-nim" (which is what they call Jesse, and what Jesse calls Cédric), displaying his nationality and the royal family whom he serves. He only begins dressing like a citizen of the Empire once he pledges his life and abilities to serve Empress Frédérique and become one of her people!

And as for Yeseo, he only begins to be dressed by his attendants in the attire of the Empire following his 'resurrection', and we can see more of this sort of shift when he goes from being addressed less as "prince-nim", and more as (마마—) "gungju-nim" (palace lord). There's also him eventually being referred to as the Moon of the Empire, instead of the Moon of the Holy Kingdom 🥹

I'm really fond of the webtoon because if there's one thing it does right, it is absolutely how it captures the lighthearted charm, atmosphere, and vibe of the original novel—though one thing im lowkey sad about is that the visual distinction between Venetiaan and Riester culture via clothing seems to have been lost :') It's a small detail on the surface, but it's actually a pretty significant and symbolic shift when Jesse gradually begins to be dressed less like "Prince Jesse Venetiaan", and more as "Marquis de Sérénité of Riester", the Palace Lord of Juliette :')) But of course, making a webtoon is hard work and I still immensely appreciate the artist's work nonetheless (btw I am eternally grateful for them giving Yeseo an ahoge/hair antenna, it is GENIUS chara design and so so so very cute, i love webtoon jesse so much hahajhsjh)

#when the third wheel strikes back #서브 남주가 파업하면 생기는 일 #twsb #섭남파업 #jesse venetiaan #jung yeseo #cédric riester #cedjess #cedyes #twsb fanart #my art #venetiaan holy kingdom culture #riester empire culture #i love how sookym portrays the cultural differences between the two countries

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mschievousx · 3 days

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now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she loves her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

vii. seven: we would still be friends

loraine walked with aim under the silence of the night. she took a step out of the comfort of the house and into their gardens, sighting the swing. she will always be fond of it. it held a lot of memories when they were all younger and had no worries in the world but saying farewell for the day.

the young silva held it still, sitting down as she leaned her head on the rope. she needed a break from everything. fortunately, she was able to think fast and make up a story earlier at dinner when violet asked her about her early departure and her father's lack of presence in the ball.

she had a lot on her mind, but of course, she could not miss the way he occupied the other swing beside her. benedict leaned on the rope as well, facing her with a cigarette in between his fingers.

"is there something going on?" he asked with concern in his features and worry lacing his words.

she chuckled lightly at the reminder, yet people cannot know, "nothing, why?"

he took another puff of his cigarette, his silence for the mean time speaking a lot. this made the girl think that perhaps, he is so preoccupied that he needed to turn to cigarettes for dopamine stimulation.

he could have just asked her to be with him though.

"you have not asked me yet," benedict began, wary of his choice of words, "why i am avoiding you."

"ah, that." raine replied resignedly with a small smile, "i just figured perhaps you are busy."

he nodded with a hum, "i am. my mind is quite all over the place."

the young silva wanted to laugh, to yell that she was too, to tell him about all that is happening and finally have him on her side.

yet, the only thing she could think of was to inquire about himself, "is that why you are still awake?"

"partly," he took a deep breath at that, treading carefully.

raine can now feel it. he was never cautious of his words around her, but now, this was the foretelling of a series of anguish. and, she wanted for time to stop so it will not be said.

"i want to tell you that maybe," he played with his mouth. it was as if he could taste the bitterness of his own words, "it is time to stop the confessions."

she shut her eyes closed, focusing on the beating of her heart as she responded dejectedly in understanding, "ah."

"may i ask why?" raine continued, gathering her thoughts.

benedict clicked his tongue, having a hard time to explain it as evident in his features, "i am... simply not interested in marriage. i do not wish to lead you on."

she nodded without question, but she did want to tell him that he already did—for eight years. however, she could not bring herself to fault him. the man answered her with clear rejection every time. and honestly, she did not believe he will eventually choose to marry her. but hopeful, she was—immensely.

"you are one of the eyed debutantes this season, and this," he gestured between them, wanting to make his point clear, "what you are doing ruins excellent marriage prospects for you."

raine could not stop herself from laughing it could be mistaken for sarcasm, "it is for my own benefit then?"

he could not pinpoint if she was mocking him or not, so he chose to let it pass, wondering to himself if he had done the right thing.

"you know," she turned to face him from the swing, lips forming a thin smile, "i really like you a lot."

she looked at him with eyes that cannot be read. it could either mean she is feeling a lot of emotions all at once... or simply none.

benedict looked at her, still with the same intensity as he always did, "believe me, i know."

"i really like you that even though this is what you are telling me, i am still elated because you talked to me."

he casted his eyes downward, an act akin to show shame. he wanted her to yell at him, to say that he could go fuck himself because she will still do what she wants and propose to him as much.

but, she did not. she was accepting it like a true lady that benedict could not help but admire her once more.

"why me?"

she let out a sigh at his question, "i ask the same thing everyday."

after a prolonged silence, he threw his cigarette away, taking a hold of her hand, enveloping it in his own, "i only want peace for you—within you, so i ask of you to let me go."

"i do not have the ability to let you go, ben. you were not mine to begin with. you have been free all along." she took her hands from his, lightly engulfing his in hers before leaning away, "it is i who needs to ask you that, but i can see the answer is quite apparent."

"i am not throwing away our friendship."

"of course," raine replied with ease, giving him a reassuring smile, "we would still be friends."

benedict nodded warmly at her, saying a few thanks before standing up to let the girl have her time to herself. she turned to the now empty swing beside her, his smell of ash and nicotine still present—the only indications that it indeed happened. and while she has convinced herself that she knew this was going to happen at some point, the tear that graced her cheeks was the witness of betrayal.

she has read it in a book before: perhaps, you have not really lived if love has not killed you at least once. she is on her way to becoming immortal.

and so, although he has broken her heart yet again, her warm smile never left her features. you can break my heart a thousand times if you like. she wanted to touch him, hoping not for the last time.

it was only ever yours to break anyway.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

raine woke up in the guest room of the bridgerton's house. she almost believed last night to be a dream—a nightmare, if it was. but, it was not. it was as real as it can be. a fact she has to face and move forward at the arrival of another day.

she descended the stairs and went to the drawing room where the the children's laughters can be heard.

"how did you sleep, dear?" violet greeted at the sight of the woman joining them.

"quite well, lady bridgerton. thank you."

"would you like to have breakfast? we are already done eating." she offered, raine realising that she has woken up quite late now with the sun too far out.

"it is alright. i am not feeling hungry." she smiled politely at the older woman as hyacinth took a hold of her hand eagerly.

"are you going home today, raine?"

she turned to her and replied, "yes, in a while. why?"

"play with us!" gregory joined the two.

she laughed as she ruffled the young man's hair, "of course, whatever game did you have in mind?"

"cards." hyacinth turned to her brother as the latter groaned.

"you will definitely beat me at that."

"house then." she chose again, hoping that the boy will agree so that they can finally start playing.

greg nodded, turning and running upstairs, "wait, let me get ben."

at the mention of him, raine turned to the little girl, "i think we can just play cards. let's defeat gregory again this time."

the young one was about to reply when the boy appeared in an instant, just as fast as he left, now with a scolding tone.

they both rounded up the corner as greg dragged him in, "you can go to your women later."

"i am not going to my—" the words died down in his throat when he saw her. the last night seems to haunt them both.

seeing her arm linked to hyacinth's, he had a clue on what was going to happen and he can do nothing as the kids dragged them both by hand.

"let us go to the gardens."

hyacinth placed a long cloth for them to sit atop on the grass. gregory came bearing kitchenwares, utensils, and biscuits.

oh, it was definitely shaping like a game of house.

the young girl has gestured for them to sit first and wait as the kids took care of everything for the act. raine sat easily on the cloth, taking a biscuit or two.

the other, however, did not know where to sit. he tried to rearrange the glasses and plates, avoiding to sit beside her as he thought she would be uncomfortable.

noticing what he was doing, raine dusted off her hands together away from the food to remove the crumbs and spoke.

"oh, come on, ben. we are friends."

he was surprised she addressed him at first but immediately smiled at that, finally sitting beside her. both kids arrived and now settled across them too. the game is about to start, it seems.

"okay, so cinth and i are the parents then you both are the children." the pair who was supposed to act as the children tilted their heads at the boy.

it was not that they did not want to act as kids or that they wanted to act as the other. they simply expected to act as the parents seeing as, well, they are older.

benedict questioned directly, "wait, why? who said you get to decide the roles?"

hyacinth sided with the boy, groaning as she answered for him, "ugh, it's no fun if we act as siblings and you a couple. why did we even play pretend if you just wanted to act like in real life?"

the older brother paused, his breath caught up at the mention once again. he did not know what to say to address what his sister said. should i deny it? no, that would be too strong as if i am repulsed by her. should i just let it be? no, that would also be as if i am accepting the idea—which could not be farther from the truth given what transpired last night.

his train of thoughts stopped when the lady beside him laughed genuinely as she reached across to hyacinth and pinched her cheeks, "fine, i will be a child."

and for the first time in today, benedict breathed with calmness and relief. he could not help but look at her as she laughed with his siblings, playing off everything.

and watching her like this, he allowed a warm smile to grace his lips and reach his eyes. everything is going to be okay. perhaps, this is the joy they have been longing for.

but like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.

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#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x oc #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton

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dryadalisliv · 8 months

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“What if I told you I loved you” Arthur's fingers played over the back of Merlin’s hand; grazing swiftly skin to skin, nearly not touching. A shiver went down Merlin spine.

“I don’t think that would help your case” Merlin whispered, trying to hold back both tears of joy and absolute grief at Arthur’s words that he knew he would never be allowed to accept nor return, no matter how much he reciprocated the feelings he spoke of.

“And why is that? Why can’t you tell me?” Arthur asked again. “If I tell you now that I love you, don’t you believe me?”

“I-“ to be frank Merlin had a hard time understanding how someone like Arthur could love someone like Merlin, but he swallowed back the words of protest in effort to make the king understand. “I do believe you” he settled on saying, “what worries me is how you feel after I tell you.”

Arthur looked him intensely in the eyes “What if I promised to love you no matter what, no matter what you tell me. I know in my heart that I love you, and you can’t change that” he sounded so sure that Merlin, for a moment, was tempted to tell him. Tell him all about the magic, of the prophecies, and the love. But,

“I can’t” Merlin’s voice broke.

“Then tell me why you can’t” Arthur voice had taken a desperate quality. “You said you believe me when I tell you that I love you, why would you expect me to not do so after?”

Merlin looked down at his hand, that the king was still slowly caressing. “Why?” Arthur pushed, and the raven looked up to catch his eyes.

“Hate stands the strongest when born from love” Merlin simply whispered.

Arthur was silent for a moment before saying: “I truly don’t think I have it in me to hate you. I simply don’t think I am capable.”

Merlin sighed, oh how he wished he could believe that. He could feel the sting in his eyes become more intense and he stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth, trying to choke down a cry.

“I’m- I can’t- I’m not ready to see your hate Arthur. Because you will hate me. And- And I’m so afraid” he choked on a sob, “I’m just so afraid.”

Arthur engulfed Merlin’s hand with his own and tugged at it forcefully, dragging Merlin’s body towards him so he could embrace him tightly. The gesture left Merlin even more tear wrecked, as he was sitting with his nose pressed against Arthur’s neck, and the tears from his eyes wetting the shoulder of the king’s tunic.

“I don’t want you to hate me” he whispered into his king’s neck. “I can’t- I can’t watch that”. His broken whisper was so lost, and Arthur’s embrace tightened.

“I don’t know what to say to make you believe me” Arthur said into Merlin’s hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “But I promise, I promise that I will love you no matter what. And if you don’t believe me then… then I’ll at least promise you that I will listen, that I will try to understand. I want to understand!”

Merlin felt the tears overwhelm him once more as he heard those words, and Arthur’s hand began soothing motions up and down his back, until it rested on the nape of his neck. “I promise” he whispered into Merlin’s ear.

The warlock fisted the back of Arthur’s tunic in his hands, desperately clinging to his king, before he said, barely over his breath: “I’m a warlock. I have magic”

And with those words he had never been more scared, and never been more free. He choked on a sob and held Arthur even tighter.

“Hey” Arthur whispered after a beat of silence. “Hey.” He moved his hands from Merlin’s neck to his chin and cupped his face, guiding his warlock to look at him.

“Look at me” he commanded with immense fondness.

When Merlin caught his light blue gaze, he felt more grounded than he had ever been before.

“I think we have overcome much worse challenges” Arthur smiled gently, but still looked like there was a sadness behind the words that he held at bay. “And for the record, I’m furious that you’ve had to lie for so long and that you did it to me; but my love for you still stands”

Merlin looked at his king in disbelief, and what else could he do than kiss him right there on the spot?

#merthur #bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin emrys #Merlin ficlet #merthur ficlet #merthur fanfic #merthur fic #merthur fanfiction #Merlin fanfic

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asa-do-your-thing · 29 days

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Release

18+ MINORS DNI Jacaerys Velaryon x F!Reader 2.6k Warnings: SMUT, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, innocence / corruption kink ig, as always no proofreading no nothing

You always knew that Prince Jacaerys Velaryon had a special fondness for you, and as you grew older, his feelings grew stronger. The Queen, his mother, seemed to approve of this and promised your father that a suitable marriage would be arranged. However, she failed to mention that this would only happen once Jacaerys married his cousin, Lady Baela.

Despite thinking of Jace as your closest friend, you came to realize that there were other reasons he wanted you around. He may have been too proper to admit it directly, but something was definitely going on between the two of you. Even during thunderstorms like this one, he couldn't resist reaching out to touch you or offering to hold you close in the dreary castle where you played these games together.

“Jace, I… I am not a child anymore, I don’t think I need to sit in your lap…,” you mumbled, playfully trying to wriggle out of his grasp. “And, Oh! Jace! You’ve such cold hands, I…!”

The sound of the thundering storm outside filled the room as Prince Jacaerys chuckled, his warm breath gently caressing your ear. His arms were like steel bands around you, pulling you closer to him as he settled comfortably in the overstuffed armchair beside the fireplace.

You felt your heart racing in anticipation - not just from fear of the storm but from the electricity that seemed to crackle between you both whenever he got this close.

"Oh come now, my dearest friend," he teased, his voice low and seductive. "You know that sitting on my lap is exactly what you want." His hot breath sent shivers down your spine and goosebumps across your skin as he nuzzled his cheek against yours. "And isn't it better to be warm and safe inside with me than out there, shivering in the cold?"

He held you tighter, almost possessively, and it was impossible not to notice the way his fingers danced along your arms, tracing patterns on your skin that sent delicious chills down your spine. You found yourself squirming under his touch, trying desperately not to let him see how much you enjoyed it. Your heart raced faster when he leaned in closer and whispered against your neck, "I've missed you these past moons." His words sent a wave of heat through you that was only amplified by the gentle breeze from the fireplace fanning against your skin. “King’s Landing is boring without you.”

You blushed and batted your eyelashes, feigning ignorance of the growing pressure under your buttocks. “I missed you too. You've missed the warmth - it was finally warm enough to go swimming. I went with your mother the Queen’s ladies’ maids. But then again… I don’t think you would’ve come with us, for we were all in the thinnest of shifts and they all turned see-through… No, right, you would probably just have trained with your uncle and your brother. What a foolish idea, you, swimming with us…”

There was a brief moment of stillness, and then you had to maintain a neutral expression as Jace moaned quietly into your hair. He placed his hand on your clothed thigh and gave it a squeeze, his arousal evident by the way his hardness twitched. It was amusing to act like an innocent maiden, and it clearly turned him on immensely.

Prince Jacaerys's eyes glinted with mischievous amusement, and he leaned in to nip at your earlobe. "Oh, really? And what were you ladies doing while I was gone?" His hand began to move up your thigh slowly, teasingly tracing patterns on your skin as he waited for your response. You could feel the anticipation building between you both as his fingers grazed closer and closer to the edge of your damp fabric.

"We swam in the warm sea," you replied coyly, trying not to squirm too much under his touch. "The waves were rough and salty, and the sand was warm and comforting. We splashed around and tried to steal each other’s shifts." You let out a momentary giggle, grinning to yourself. It’d been much tamer, of course, but you were playing expertly into his fantasy. You knew there was nothing he wanted as much as to make you his, to corrupt his favorite ‘little Lady’. "It felt so refreshing!"

"Mmm, I bet it did," he purred, and you could practically hear the wicked grin in his voice. His fingers had now reached the top of your thigh-high stocking, his fingertips tracing patterns along your bare skin. Goosebumps erupted across your body as he continued to tease you, inch by agonizing inch. "Tell me more…"

You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you continued with the charade, embellishing the details to please him. "Well," you began, slightly breathless, "the sun was so hot that day... and we were all quite flushed from our swim. We laid out on the sand to dry off, letting the breeze dry our damp hair... and... and our shifts." You let out a little gasp as his fingers brushed over a particularly sensitive spot behind your knee, just where the lace that held up the stocking was, sending shivers down your spine.

"Oh Jace! That tickles!"

The room was heavy with desire now, the only sound between you two becoming the crackling fireplace and the steady patter of rain against the windowpanes.

The tension was palpable as you both danced around what neither of you wanted to admit out loud - that this game had gone on long enough. You decided to finish this slowly, to tease and torture him just a little longer, seeing as you have wrapped him around your finger whilst he thought the same about himself.

“They told me some stories about what their Husbands were doing to, and uh… with them. I could hardly believe what they were saying… I… Oh, I wish I could talk about it with you, but you’re, well, you. It would be improper.”

The look on Jace's face was priceless - a mix of lust, desire, and determination to know more about your imagined trysts. His hand had stilled its ministrations, replaced by a feverish grip on your thigh as he leaned in closer. "Tell me. Please, I want to know."

You bit your lower lip, playing the part of the coy maiden to perfection. "Well, if you insist…" You leaned in closer to him adjusting your seat on his lap, all the while letting your hand sneak behind his neck, gently playing with his locks. "They… they said their husbands were... touching them... there," you said, blushing and pointing to your lower abdomen.

"And that it made them feel... quite nice. But... But I don't understand why that would be pleasant, Jace... They also said that they, when their husbands wished it, opened their mouths wide and did this to… well…," she mumbled and slowly licked her finger. “That sounds… so scandalous. Against walls, in the sea, over tables… In the mouth, in the lady parts and even… buttocks…”

The vulnerability you exuded, the innocence you presented, melted away as you allowed him a glimpse at the cunning woman underneath. You wanted this too, and by the Mother, did you want it now. An involuntary moan escaped your lips.

He growled low in his throat, his breath fanning over your heated skin, and you knew that the line between reality and fantasy had blurred for him. His hands were no longer playful but demanding as he cupped your bottom cheeks and pulled you closer to him. "And what do you think about that, little one? Do you want to experience such scandalous things? To feel the touch of your Prince?"

Your eyes locked with his as you ran your tongue along your lower lip. "I… I don't know, Your Grace," you purred, grinding slightly against his hardness through your petticoats. "Only you can show me…"

His eyes darkened as he stared into yours before he leaned in closer and pressed his mouth to yours in a hungry kiss. His lips were soft yet firm as they moved against yours urgently, desperately, as if he was trying to devour every part of you. His tongue slipped between your lips without waiting for permission and explored every inch of your mouth, tasting you like a man starved of water in the Dornish deserts.

You moaned into the kiss, unable to control yourself any longer. Your hands tangled themselves in his silky black hair as you pressed yourself closer to him seeking more contact between your bodies – desperate for something... more...

"You're such a tease," he murmured in your ear, lifting you up and carrying you to his bed. "I'll show you everything, I've been waiting for this moment for so long."

As he carefully laid you down on the bed, he assured you, "I won't hurt you, my dear. I just..." His words trailed off, mumbled like a drunken confession as he pushed your skirt up and reveled in the sensation of your wetness.

"Gods, I want you so badly." He dropped down onto his knees and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, sloppily kissing your thighs up to your sweetness. “Tell me you’re mine, I want to hear you screaming my name… My perfect little Lady…”

You didn't hesitate in your response. "Yours, Jace. I'm yours and only yours... please... I need you... now..."

He didn't need any more encouragement as he pulled your hiked your skirt, exposing your core to him completely. You gasped as his hot, wet tongue found your bud, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

He was as good with his mouth as he was with words, you realized, and you moaned louder, arching your back. This wasn't how Ladies spoke about it in stories, it was so much better... so much more intimate.

"You are so wet for me," Jace murmured between long, languid kisses and licks up your slit, his tongue working its magic as he tasted your arousal. He grinned against your folds, the hungry look in his eyes making him seem even more wicked and dangerous. His fingers found their way into your stockings, tracing up your thighs and teasingly skimming the sensitive skin beneath them, making you gasp and shiver.

"And how do you like this?" he asked, his rough voice sending shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help but whimper in response as he dipped a finger inside you, stretching your tight entrance, filling you with delicious pleasure. "Do you like feeling how wanton you are for me?"

His other hand slid underneath your shift to caress your bare stomach before trailing up to cup one of your breasts. His nails scraped lightly against your sensitive nipple, making you arch into him and made you let out a needy moan.

"Oh yes," he breathed against your skin, "Let me see how much you need me." With that, he pulled back the soft fabric of your chemise to expose one breast completely and took it into his mouth with a growl while his fingers continued to work their way inside of you.

His lips and tongue circled around the sensitive peak while his fingers thrust deeper into you, pushing against that wonderful, aching spot inside.

The sensations were out of this world and increased with each push of his fingers, though every time you came close to your undoing, he stopped what he was doing with a small smirk. “You really think I’m letting you finish so quickly? No, little one, you’ve teased me long enough. It’s my turn now…”

With a final, lingering suck on your nipple, he stood up and undid his trousers. His manhood, long and hard pressed against his trousers, could no longer be hidden. His eyes bored into yours as he removed the last barrier between you two. He positioned himself at your entrance and looked down at you expectantly, "Tell me you want this."

“Yes,” you breathed out, your voice unsteady with desire. “I want you, Jace. I want all of you... inside... now...”

He smiled a devilish grin before he entered you roughly in one go, stopping only momentarily to let you adjust to his size.

"Jace, oh..." You couldn't help but moan out loud as he filled you completely, stretching you in ways you never thought possible. The slight pain quickly dissipated as pleasure took its place. Panting for air, pearls of sweat began to form on your brow as Jace continued to thrust into you relentlessly - slowly at first then picking up speed with every moan that escaped your lips until your bodies were slapping against each other like the waves in the Narrow Sea during a stormy night.

“Mine… Mine, all mine, so perfect, such a beautiful cunny, all mine, so tight I…”, he rambled and held onto both of your shoulders to push himself deeper into you as you folded your legs around his handsome, muscular torso. “Only mine, so beautiful… Fuck, open your mouth, darling,”, he groaned and blushed when you wantonly opened your mouth, letting your tongue hang out. He gathered some spit and let it drip down into your mouth, shuddering at the feeling of your walls tightening around his hard cock.

“Is this what you wanted, Little One? To be used like a whore? A common whore with her legs spread wide for any man who would have her?”

Your hips bucked against his, meeting him thrust for thrust as you rode out the waves of pleasure crashing over you from his words and his cock. “You’re so wet, so slick, just for me… No one else, only me… no one can have this… this tight cunny…”

Tears of pleasure streamed down your face as you neared the precipice, not caring about decorum or anything else but the building fire between your legs. "Yes, Yours… only yours..." you panted, barely able to form a coherent sentence anymore. "Only yours... I want you... to... to... fuck me... make me yours forever... oh Jace...," you whined, clenching your fists and biting down on your lip as you convulsed in pure extasy.

It felt beautifully cruel as Jace continued chasing his high before pulling our at the last second, spraying his hot seed over your stomach and your hitched dress.

His groans of pleasure filled the room as he collapsed onto the bed next to you. His chest heaved, sweat pouring down his bare torso. After a moment, he turned towards you and you were met with a sight that rendered you speechless. His dark eyes shone with a mixture of satisfaction, lust, and something deeper, something tender that sent sparks fluttering in your belly.

"Forgive me," he whispered, his voice rough from the aftermath of his climax. "I was too rough." His hand moved up to trace lazy circles on your inner thigh, making you shiver at the touch. "I promise to be gentler next time," he murmured, his fingers moving higher until they traced the edge of your sore entrance.

He moved closer to you as his other hand cradled your cheek, his thumb lightly brushing against your lips. He leaned in and planted a light kiss on them. It was so different from the fierce and passionate ones you had shared earlier; this one was soft and gentle like a fleeting promise.

"From now on, I will treat you like a princess," he told you, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "I hope you enjoyed it," he added gingerly. You nodded in response even though there was a sudden lump in your throat that made it difficult for you to get any words out.

"I'm not a princess," you protested weakly.

"Well," he smirked down at you, "you are my princess."

#asas fics #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #hotd #hotd smut #house of the dragon #jace strong #jace velaryon #prince jacaerys smut

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tasteracha · 11 months

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a/n: this was 100% inspired by the news of hyune being made a global ambassador of versace (i'm so proud of him i'll cry). also this wasn't proofread in any way. oops.

you were in the middle of trying to make it look like you weren’t waiting at the door like an excited puppy when hyunjin came home, the lock to the front door rattling a bit as he unlocked it. he hasn’t been home this early in weeks, too busy with schedules and practices and meetings. you’re always immensely proud of him, happy to sit at home while he lives out his dreams but the pang of missing him has hurt a little more than usual lately.

all pretenses of trying to act cool flew out the window when you saw him though - he’s always beautiful, but something about the flowing silks and elegant patterns of his new versace clothes makes him look other-worldly. versace, the brand he was now a global ambassador of.

you didn’t know he was coming home all done up like this. even the shoes he kicks off are absurdly nice, smooth leathers complimented by lines of gold metal. your own body is clothed in your sleep shorts and an old worn out t-shirt, but the look of awe he gives you rivals the one on your face as he takes you in, the first thing he lays eyes on after a tiring day.

“hi, gorgeous,” he says, sweeping you into a hug and pressing a kiss onto the top of your head.

“shouldn’t i be the one calling you that?” you say, pulling back a bit to look him up and down. “you look amazing, mr. fancy brand ambassador.”

“it doesn’t matter what you wear, you’re always perfect,” he says sweetly, a fond smile on his face. he’s so sweet. but with the way he looks right now, like a greek god walking straight out of a myth, you suddenly don’t want sweet.

his eyes widen a bit when yours narrow in on him for a second, calculating. all your plans of cuddling him while you watch a movie and share a bottle of wine fly out the window as you pull him straight to the bedroom, not asking if he’d eaten or needed water or rest - that can happen later. once you’ve gotten what you wanted from him.

“i have to be careful with this, hmm?” you don’t waste any time as you slowly unbutton his silk shirt, the fabric rippling like water under your hands. “this probably is worth more than i am.”

“no,” he gasps when you get it open and run your hands up and down his chest, stopping at his nipples. you’ve caught him off guard. good. “yes. i don’t know?”

“awh, does my pretty boy feel shy because he’s all dolled up?” you tease as you slide the fabric off of his shoulders and neatly place it on the dresser. you know your words will push the wrong buttons. or the right ones, depending on his mood. for all of his shyness, he doesn’t usually like being teased in the bedroom. he likes it slow and sweet, sometimes hard and rough, but for the latter he needs to be pushed there.

“watch it,” he says, voice sharp in a way that slices right through you, just as you expected. you shiver when he pulls you close, his hand a harsh grip on your waist. you can smell his perfume from this close, the flowery scent mixing with his own natural one creating a melody of intoxicating aromas. his eyes are still soft though, he rarely ever looks at you with anything but pillowy fondness.

but the way he rips your shirt off when you just smirk at him in response is a sharp contrast to how you discarded him of his. it’s quick and rough, and you’re surprised that it didn’t rip before he threw it onto the floor behind you.

“you’re buying me a new shirt if you’re going to treat it like that,” your voice trembles when he cups your breasts in his hands, squeezing just so. for all your words, you know he’s winning this round. it’s a game of chess that you had prepared to lose.

“i’ll buy you a hundred shirts if you shut up and let me fuck you,” he almost growls, the frustration building up. fuck.

“i don’t know,” you pretend to think, placing your chin in your hand and rolling your eyes upwards in an exaggerated display. “why should i?”

before you can blink, he’s sliding your shorts and underwear down and pushing you backwards, and you feel the swoop of the fall in your stomach as your back hits your mattress. you let out a breathless laugh when he almost trips trying to get his own pants and boxers off, hopping on one foot when the other gets tangled up.

“do you need help?” you ask, voice sugar sweet and gaze locked onto him through your lashes. the final puzzle piece you needed, you realize, as his eyes ice over and the beautiful features on his face sharpen. he rids himself of the last of his clothes in one smooth movement, striding over to kneel on top of you on the bed.

“what’s gotten into you today, hmm?” he purrs, the hand that isn’t holding himself up over you is rubbing slow, hard circles into your inner thigh. you don’t answer, but the fight leaves you as you melt under him and your eyes flutter closed, content. he leans down to press a soft kiss to your jaw, then behind your ear, and finally to your mouth. “are you that desperate to get fucked?”

he pushes two fingers into you at once, making you keen and your eyes fly open as he starts pumping them in and out of you. he crooks his fingers just right every time, and you’re already seeing black spots in your vision as the pressure in your lower belly pools up.

“hyune-”, you gasp out, hands fluttering on his back. “what, ah-”

“you want me in control, right? i’m going to make you come on my fingers,” he pants out, his hand not slowing from its brutal pace. “and them i’m going to make you come on my cock. and you’re going to lay there and take it.”

the thought makes you groan and move your hips up to meet him, and when you look up at him hovering over you he looks like an angel. his hair is still done up, red-tinted lips parted and sparkly brown dusted eyes focused on how his fingers look inside of you. he moans when you clench hard around his fingers, like he’s feeling your pleasure too, and it sends you over the edge. you pull him down to meet you, parted pairs of lips meeting in a messy kiss as you all but sob into his mouth.

he doesn’t give you any time to recover as he pulls his slick-soaked fingers out of you, using it to pump his hard cock a few times before sliding it into you, propping himself onto his elbow so his entire body is covering yours. his mouth is still on yours, sucking and biting at your bottom lip, and even with that as a distraction you can feel every inch of him entering you. you can’t help the way your walls tighten around him when he starts moving and you break his kiss to throw your head back, an embarrassingly load moan leaving your mouth.

his lips move to your neck, latching on like his mouth can’t stay away from you. you can feel his breath panting out onto your skin, aligning with your own ragged breaths. you hook a leg around his waist, your hands scratching gently across the smooth planes of his back.

he comes before you do, pumping you full as he bites down on your neck, and he keeps fucking you until you follow him into the high. your legs shake and he whimpers, holding you close and burying his face into your neck as you both gain control of your breathing.

he rolls off of you once he can take breath that isn’t ragged and you lay your head on his chest, not minding the sweat. the both of you are serene, basking in the glow when you remember to ask -

“…do you think i get free clothes out of this too?”

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #hyunjin smut #hyunjin imagines

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chosonore · 2 years

Text

summary: your most prized possession was childe’s red scarf that he’d given to you before he left. a simple item really but it brought you so much solace and comfort while he was gone, easing your heart and worries until he came back. that was, until you lost it.

a/n: hello i am not okay after all the harbingers were just dropped onto us like that like i need a moment or two. but that being said, i kept seeing childe in his red scarf and oh my god i love how it looks on him? the big ass coat? the scarf? he looks so nice and i want it as a skin in-game.

“excuse me? is this what you’ve been looking for?” a lady came up behind you, tapping your shoulder gently to get your attention. immediately, you whirled around and teared up at the sight of the bright red scarf that she was holding in her hands. you’d spent hours upon hours looking for it after losing it sometime during the day, your frustration increasing with each hour that you spent looking for it.

you hadn’t noticed how it was gone until you were home, trying to place it at its usual spot on your armchair. your heart sank to your stomach, dread filling your chest. it was an uncomfortable feeling, like immense pressure on your chest, the air being pressed out of your lungs. the one most precious item that childe had given to you, you couldn’t have lost it. you needed to find it. on any other day, you probably wouldn’t have been as upset but you just didn’t have a good day - a good week really. everything that could have possibly gone wrong, went wrong. from breaking your favourite mug to getting into an unpleasant confrontation at work, not having heard of childe for months, and now losing the scarf was the cherry on top.

to the best of your abilities, you held back your tears as you traced back every single route that you took today, hoping that it was still somewhere on the way and that nobody had taken it from you. perhaps it was silly to attribute so much meaning to a simple item of clothing but it was so dear to you. it was one of the few items that childe gave to you, that you treasured in his absence. in a way, you kept it with you at all times to feel like he was with you wherever you went. so it would ease the ache you felt whenever you thought of him, whenever you missed him.

“do you really have to go?” you questioned quietly as you stood at the harbour, staring at your lover in sadness. the ice cold wind and flurrying snowflakes were nipping at your skin, slowly numbing your fingertips but nothing could compare to the heartbreak you felt upon childe’s departure. you knew it was part of his work but it didn’t make it any easier, knowing that he disappeared for months on end and sometimes only returned for a short period of time before vanishing again. it was hard on you but you couldn’t help it - your heart belonged to him and would always be his. and so you would wait, as long as it takes, for him to come back. because you prayed, you knew, that he always would.

childe whirled around to face you, his tall frame towering over you. “i’m sorry, baby, you know how it is,” he mumbled, stepping closer to you. the large coat shielded you from the curious gazes of the other fatui, it was rare that they could steal a glance at the infamous harbinger’s partner. though they might not look like it, childe knew they liked to gossip and he wasn’t very fond of it - the less they knew about you, the better. it was one of the rare instances that he couldn’t convince you to stay away, knowing that you would have found another way to find him just to see him off.

childe’s gloved hands found yours, eyebrows furrowing upon seeing that you weren’t wearing any. “i told you to wear them,” he grumbled, pulling you closer and wrapping his coat around you. “you’ll get sick.”

“will you come home sooner if i get sick?” you teased him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you huddled closer to his warmth. inhaling loudly, you tried to take in as much of him as you could before he left. his warmth, his unmistakable scent, the way he always held you in his arms - it was so hard to leave behind. would it be selfish of you to beg him to stay with you or to take you with him?

“you know i can’t do that, i’ll come home once i’m done with everything. properly.” childe reminded you again, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“how cold and cruel of you, just leaving your lover here to wonder when you’ll come back.”

“is that a challenge?” he grinned at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “i’ll be back in no time, don’t you worry. i just have to clean up the mess scaramouche left behind, nothing new. i’ll bring you some souvenirs.”

before you could give him a snippy reply, childe stepped back and took his large, red scarf off and haphazardly wrapping it around you. as he neared the ends of the scarf, he fumbled, clumsily trying to tie it around you. “what are you doing?” you laughed at your boyfriend, shaking your head at his clumsy hands.

“i wanted to make it a nice bow,” childe pouted and settled for a simple knot. “keep it, you’ll get cold otherwise and i know you don’t like the cold.” he couldn’t help but smile at the red bundle that you now were, looking comically small in the scarf. truthfully, he worried about you a lot while he was away but had taken precautions - there was always some fatui agent stationed near you, just to keep you safe. he knew you were more than capable of defending yourself, having sparred with him before and being a vision holder but he couldn’t bear the thought of someone even getting close to hurting you. especially since it was no secret that he was dating you; his reputation of being a protective partner who considered you his family as well preceded him.

he knew that you visited his family frequently to take care of his siblings and that they adored you, his whole family did. teucer had sworn up and down that he would always protect you while childe was away, telling him that he had nothing to worry about. seeing you so comfortable around his family, as if you’d always been there and belong there, it simultaneously warmed his heart and stirred a dull ache. oh how he longed for the day that he would finally find what he was looking for all this time so he could put his mind to rest and come home to you for good. to start a family with you one day, to be able to wake up to you everyday without fearing that he would have to leave the next.

“but it’s yours! i have one at home and i’m not cold, really,” you protested, trying to wiggle out of the tightly winded fabric.

“i said keep it,” childe silenced another protest by simply kissing you, continuing to do so whenever you opened your mouth until he rendered you speechless. you didn’t have the energy to say anything else, hiding your face in the scarf in embarrassment. “wherever you might be, it’ll be easier to spot you this way. i’ll always find my way back to you, hm?”

“are you implying i’ll run away from you?”

“i know you won’t.” you really wanted to wipe the confident smirk from his face. “but i’m saying that i might come home sooner than you think and surprise you.”

“thank you, thank you so much,” you thanked the kind lady profusely, wiping your tears quickly as you took the scarf and hugged it to you. you were still shaking slightly, whether from your frustration or the coldness, you couldn’t quite tell. you quickly offered her some kind of help in return, simply wanting to somehow repay the kindness. however, she shook her head, insisting that she didn’t do anything and simply held onto the scarf as she was sure someone was looking for it. in the darkness and the dimly lit alley, you couldn’t see the uniform she was wearing, unmistakably a fatui uniform. had you spotted it, maybe you could have put two and two together.

wrapping the scarf around you, you said goodbye to her and made your way home - only now did you realize how late it was, almost midnight. childe would scold you, if he only knew that you were still roaming the streets around this time of the day. you turned at the corner of the street, almost close to your home when someone grabbed your arm. in panic, you whirled around, hands on your weapon before your eyes fell onto a familiar figure.

“found you,” childe grinned at you as if he hadn’t been gone for months without sending any notice to either you or his family. so nonchalant and lighthearted as always. “told you the scarf was a telltale sign, i was able to spot you from miles away. what are you doing out at this hour, huh?”

not even greeting him, you jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly to you as the tears finally broke free from you again. “you idiot, you absolute idiot,” you sniffled, punching his chest lightly. “why didn’t you send any letter for months? do you know how much i’ve been worrying? and your family as well? and you come home like nothing happened?”

childe caught you, rubbing your back gently as he attempted to comfort you. maybe it wasn’t his smartest move to stay radio silent for months, his work got the best of him. he held you as he carried you the remainder of the way to your apartment, knowing it like the back of his hand. you didn’t let go as he tried to place you on the armchair, opting to carry you with him as he prepared the kettle for some tea. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to, i swear,” he apologized to you, gently pecking your cheeks. “i won’t be leaving anytime soon, promise.”

“i’m still mad at you,” you grumbled, letting go of him as he set you on the counter to grab some mugs.

“i know, and i’ll make it up to you.”

“to teucer, anthon and antonia too.”

“of course.”

you watched as he prepared your tea as you liked it. it almost felt unreal that he was back after all this time. in between your pent up frustration and anger from the day, your joy about his return made your heart soar, you could hardly get it to calm. that was until he faced you with raised eyebrows. “a little birdy told me you spent all this time outside trying to find the scarf? i could’ve just gotten you a new one, you know. it’s not that important.”

“to you. i was devastated. and how do you even know that? are you spying on me?”

“that’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

#genshin impact #gi #genshin childe #childe #tartaglia #genshin tartaglia #childe x reader #childe x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fatui #fatui harbinger #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you #writing

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eldritch-spouse · 9 months

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pinnie mummy thank you for feeding us on the daily mwah. feel free to ignore this as it's very self indulgent but I've just finished work at 2 am again and I can't stop thinking about sth. Who do you think would like (or at the very least be able to handle) a workaholic partner - and who'd absolutely loathe it? Workaholic as in - 'I need to finish this I can't talk to anyone or get distracted by anything till I get stuff done'.

Would enjoy/get along with a workaholic:

Pinter thinks that's the fucking spirit right there! A good worker is a good partner! Your sheer determination to get things done quickly and to never leave loose ends makes him value you immensely as a person and partner. He'll be right beside you pulling 2 to 3am work shifts.

Patches feels a bit more at home with someone who understands what it's like to have a lot of work in their hands. Whether or not you're passionate about said work is a whole other story, but he's the type of guy that will pull all-nighters without hesitation. The dullahan does worry for your health though, he's undead -It can't get much worse- You're alive.

Morell is a hard worker as well. He gets into he hum drum of routine very easily and he's not fond of distractions, to the point where he might tell others to shut the fuck up while he works. This means that he'll understand when you need focus and won't push much, though there comes a time where he forcibly makes you stop.

Cero works harder than you'd expect. Sure, he's an arrogant cunt, but some of his genuine and well-earned pride comes from the fact that he's a diligent worker. He silently admires your dedication, even if all you hear is an insult about not being able to find a balance.

Rieba and Jayde are hard working imps, they see a lot of themselves in you. And while one is more visibly stressed than the other, both are kind of hot messes and appreciate someone who can empathize with their 2am struggles.

**Hudsyn hopes your all-nighters are born of feverish mania and energetic episodes like his, but that might not be the case, it usually isn't. Still, he's there to make sure you don't pass out. And, if you choose to, he's there to pick you up.

Can "handle it":

Zizz can handle a workaholic, in the sense that he'll set a timer for how long into the night you're allowed to stay awake, then will make his way over to you, put a hand on your head and swiftly make you conk the fuck out for as long as he deems necessary.

Belo and Jonesy love your sense of duty! It's truly a beautiful thing to see in a lesser. You're exemplary and so very determined, they swoon at the sight alone. However, Jonesy is quick to dictate that you can no longer keep working after a set amount of time, and Belo will join in on your task when he notices it's getting too late for a human to be up.

Nebul likes discipline. It's nice to know that you don't have trouble focusing on a specific task for long periods of time, that you don't complain about it. He's filing that way for later, when it's time to train you. That being said, the wraith is very much willing to use his authoritative presence to intimidate you out of exhausting yourself.

Flints, much like Nebul, enjoys someone who can focus easily and isn't so easily swayed out of their responsibilities. But he's going to stand next to you silently at some point, tapping a bat on his palm. It's only a matter of time until he starts heading your way with that bat if you don't go the fuck to sleep.

Hates it:

Roch doesn't like seeing you work that much, it genuinely makes him stress out over you. It's bad, like at least take some naps! He'll go out of his way to get on your lap or fall asleep on your work like a house cat. That's enough for a day, stop it.

Fank-e can't stand seeing you so focused for so long at a time. He gets antsy over not having enough interaction with you and can't stay quiet for too long, so your annoyed outbursts will hurt him. He just doesn't know what to do aside from sit there and fidget, forcing himself to be quiet, or just leave.

Fasma won't quit chastising you over how destructive those habits are for your health. Like, you might as well start smoking kid, the way you want to get a burnout, back problems or a depressive episode- You're too young to be doing that shit to your body, take a fucking breather...

Obie likewise doesn't enjoy seeing you stay up so late over things that, to him, seem trivial. Stuff you could finish later or tomorrow. It reminds him of his mom, how she sometimes had to work much more than most sloth demons tolerate, and it would occasionally show in the way her mood would plummet.

Grimbly will perceive this as being ignored and will immediately hate it. There'll be many petty comments about how you don't even really need to work that specific job anyway. Sure, he likes to be spoiled, but working at The Clergy's Eye means he probably makes a lot more money than you, you know?

**[The ending of our little game with Hudsyn will alter him permanently as a character, meaning that depending on how things go, he'll behave very differently in many scenarios. So, in case things sour and you're reading this in the future thinking "That's not the Hudd I know", just know that we're still mid-game here :7]

#Cero oc #Pinter oc #Morell oc #Flints oc #Rieba oc #Jayde oc #Grimbly oc #Obie oc #Roch oc #Zizz oc #Nebul oc #Belo oc #Jonesy oc #Fasma oc #Patches oc #Hudd oc

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rafyki · 8 days

Text

Goth! Nico/ Surfer! Percy AU Part 3!

Here, have some awkward flirting by two absolute lovestruck losers (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Oh how I love writing them being absolute disaster around each other asdsgsdhdff

@neo-kid-funk I managed to finish this part before I thought, I hope you like it!!! And I hope it fuels your inspiration for new art *evil laugh*

(For everyone who hasn't seen it yet, go to Neo's blog and enjoy her beautiful art!! This fic was inspired by her perfect design of older goth Nico <33)

Part 1, Part 2

~~~~~~

Nico didn’t expect it to become a habit. He expected it to be a one time thing, the kind of thing that turns your world upside down for a while but doesn’t really change anything in the long run.

He expected to go back to work the next time for his shift and to not exchange more than a couple of words with Percy.

Even in his wildest fantasies he had not expected Percy to actually go and make conversation with him.

“Doesn’t it drive you crazy? That you’re always on the beach so close to the ocean yet you can’t go in the water?”

Percy had his usual drink in his hand, and Nico had been ready to wish him a nice day and watch him walk away as it always happened.

That was how things usually went. Not this.

Nico could feel his world shift around its axis (a little dramatic, yes, he knew, and he also had no doubt that Leo would tease him nonstop if he told him), and an annoying blush creeping up his neck to his face as Percy looked at him with a curious look.

He looked away, trying to find something, anything, to do that would make him appear busy and give him an excuse to avoid those way too perfect eyes.

He had not been prepared for this.

“Uhm”, he started, remembering that he had been asked a question.

He could almost hear Jason’s voice in his head yelling at him that it’s your chance, it’s your chance, talk to him!; together with Leo’s voice screaming go make him fall for you, goth boy!

Shaking his head a little, he tried to shoo them away.

“I’m not a huge fan of the ocean”, he said in the end.

And, well, that had been perhaps the wrong thing to say, judging by Percy’s horrified expression. Eyes wide wide and mouth hanging open there where he had been about to take another sip of his drink, he was looking at Nico like he had just admitted that he liked to kick kittens in his free time. It was equal parts comical and mortifying.

Before Nico could decide if he wanted to laugh at that expression or regret every life choice that had led him up to that point, Percy let out a shocked “What!?”

And for some reason, that made him chuckle, left him smiling behind his hand.

“Was that the wrong answer?”, he asked, trying and probably failing to keep the teasing tone out of his voice.

Percy took a moment to answer. He was looking at Nico carefully, a weird expression on his face now that Nico couldn’t read. It made Nico feel a little unstable on his feet; he didn’t even realize he was staring right back at Percy until he noticed the slight red on his nose and cheekbones and found himself thinking that it was cute how Percy still got sunburn even when it seemed that he basically lived on the beach under the sun.

Percy cleared his throat, and the world started moving again around them.

“Yes!”, he said. “How can you not like the ocean?”

Nico shrugged, and threw a glance at the immense expanse of water before him. There were a lot of reasons he wasn't really fond of it, but he wasn’t sure Percy would appreciate them.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just don’t like getting in the water”.

“That basically means you don’t like it though”.

Nico rolled his eyes. His heart was beating a little too fast, his hands were sweaty, and he kept playing nervously with the rings on his lips. And he wanted nothing more than for this moment and this conversation to stretch on for as long as possible.

“It seems you’re taking this pretty personally”, he said, smiling.

Percy smiled back, and Nico’s heart replied with somersaults. “I am, I take the ocean very seriously”.

Nico had guessed, but it was nice hearing it directly from Percy, adding this information to his mental list of things I know about him. For some reason, he had the feeling that that list would keep growing from now on.

His eyes fell on the trident tattoo on Percy’s left bicep. It made Nico feel weak in the knees every time he saw it, his mind immediately offering him the haunting thought of what it would feel like under his fingers. He sort of wanted to bite it.

No, not the time for this kind of thoughts!

He was definitely blushing now - he just hoped that the shadow of the kiosk's little roof was enough to hide it.

You’re the worst, Nico di Angelo, shame on you.

Percy must have noticed where he was looking though, because he glanced at his tattoo too. “Yeah, I guess it was pretty obvious”, he laughed.

Oh he had such a nice laugh.

“You’re a big fan of the Little Mermaid?”, Nico asked, because for some reason that was the first thing that had come to his mind.

It made Percy laugh a little more though, so Nico counted it as a victory.

“That’s definitely part of it, I think I must have watched that movie a thousand times when I was little”.

Nico mentally added that new information to his list.

“Maybe you were a mermaid in your past life”, he suggested. “Or some sort of sea god”.

Those last words escaped his mouth before he could hold them back. He had not meant to say them out loud - damn his brain and his too fast mouth and his stupid huge crush. Percy did look like a sea god but that didn’t mean Nico had to say it out loud and expose himself like that. See, that’s why he didn’t want to talk to Percy, he knew he would make a fool of himself. Maybe the ground would be so nice as to open up and swallow him whole right now.

(Oh, he knew his friends would laugh at him like crazy for this later).

When he found the courage to look back at Percy, he found him still smiling, an amused look in his eyes.

Nico’s stomach curled painfully on itself in a mix of embarrassment and stupid fondness. He was so weak for that look.

“In that case that would mean you just told a sea god that you don’t like the ocean”, Percy said. “That could be a problem”.

“I never said I don’t like it”, Nico pointed out, surprised at himself for how he could still speak despite his internal turmoil. “And also, I said you might have been one in your past life”.

Percy waved a hand. “That doesn’t matter. You know gods aren’t that reasonable”.

“Are you saying I should apologize?”

“Precisely”, Percy said, nodding solemnly.

That was such a weird conversation to have with someone you barely knew. Yet Nico couldn’t hold back the smile growing on his lips. Despite the continuous maelstrom raging inside him, he probably hadn’t stopped smiling for a second the whole time; it made him feel like a fool, but it was alright because Percy had been smiling for the whole time too.

“And how should I do that?”, Nico asked.

Percy seemed to think about it for a moment. “You could let me teach you how to surf”.

Nico stopped. Time stopped, the whole world stopped, even the waves of the ocean itself probably stopped moving.

In the least useful way possible, his mind conjured the terrible image of himself on a surfboard in the water with Percy wet and handsome next to him, holding him to show him what to do.

No, nope, no way. He would end up drowning after two seconds, either because surfing was definitely not his thing, or because letting the ocean swallow him would be the less embarrassing option.

“Uhm”, was the only thing that came out of his mouth“I… don’t think that would be such a good idea”.

Why is he asking me this though, oh my god what’s going on here.

His embarrassment must have caught up to Percy, because suddenly his smile turned awkward and so was also the short laugh that escaped his lips.

“I was just joking of course!”, he said quickly. Nico watched the way he rubbed his neck, the way he wasn’t looking at him anymore. “Well, then-”

“I mean!”, Nico cut him off without thinking.

That well then sounded way too much like Percy was about to leave, and Nico didn’t want that.

The relaxed feeling from before was gone, replaced with awkwardness hanging heavily in the air around them. If he had let Percy leave now, Nico was afraid he wouldn't see him again.

Don’t ruin this! It’s your chance!

This time, he tried his best to listen to his friends’ voices in his head.

“I- I mean”, he said again. “I’m really not good with water”.

He hoped his smile came out more apologetic than absolutely mortified and embarrassed. The pounding of his own heart was deafening almost, he could feel it in his throat, making it hard to breathe and push the words out. “Thanks for the offer though…?”. It came out more like a question than anything.

Idiot idiot idiot.

“Ah- uhm”, Percy, said, letting out an awkward laugh. He wasn't looking at Nico anymore, his eyes fixed on his still half full drink. “Yeah, sure”.

You have to fix this!

“I'll just- look at you surfing and enjoy the ocean from afar for now”.

Weird, that was weird! Had he really just admitted that he would just stare at him? Maybe drowning in the ocean really was the best case scenario for him. No way his blush wasn't visible right now.

Percy must be thinking that he was the weirdest and creepiest guy right now. Nico wanted to die.

But then, Percy looked back at him, and the look on his face wasn't creeped out or uncomfortable - just surprised, eyes blinking slowly and mouth hanging open like he wanted to say something but didn't know exactly what. Nico watched as a small smile made its way back to his lips. The red sunburn on Percy's cheeks was mesmerizing.

“Sounds good to me”.

And okay, perhaps he hadn't ruined everything completely. Perhaps he would get to talk to Percy again.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, making Nico almost jump out of his skin. He had forgotten there was a whole world outside of himself and the man in front of him.

“Nico, we have to switch, it's time for your break”, Jason's voice reached him, bringing him back to reality. His friend was looking at him with a clear question in his eyes and badly veiled excitement - Nico knew he would want to hear everything about his conversation with Percy later.

“Yeah, right”, he replied, half relieved and half disappointed that the moment was over.

He turned to Percy. He couldn't read the expression in his eyes. “Well, I have to go”, he said.

Percy nodded. The soft smile was back on his face, and Nico felt his heart melt at the sight. “It was nice talking to you Nico”.

“You too. Have a nice day, Percy”.

It was the first time he called him directly by his name, he realized. It sounded way too nice ok his tongue.

He kept staring at his retreating figure as he walked away, feeling unstable on his feet like someone had suddenly changed the gravity on Earth.

“You okay?”, Jason asked.

“Uhm… I think so? I'm not sure what just happened”.

Jason laughed and put a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

“You can tell me everything later, alright? Come to my and Leo's place after work”.

Nico grimaced at the prospect - he could already feel the teasing that would come of it. But he did need to talk about it, so he nodded.“Yeah, alright”, he agreed. “But I really need a smoke now”.

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #nico di angelo #percico #nicercy #pernico #pjo #percico fanfic #goth/surfer percico #official tag for this au!!

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drippingmoon · 6 months

Text

Merry new year to everyone, again! 🥳💞🥂

I know it wasn’t an event this year, but writing a yearly wrap-up is really therapeutic, you know? So I decided to continue the tradition, and if anyone wants to join me, absolutely view this as an open invitation^^ Introduction is over, and now let’s see what 2023 looked like:

(spoilers: I adored it. I'm also probably going to make this my fixed post, in case anyone ever wants to catch up with me. And also because my second baby, AoS, is growing, and it doesn't have an intro, but I can't leave it out.)

Stats

Aquiver, Aglow: 181k (draft 4) + 195k (draft 5) + hmm, draft 6 is an outlier, because I didn’t rewrite from scratch, so I’m unsure of the written word count. I didn’t change much from draft 5, so I’d say an extra 15-20k. Total word count: 376k+

Remains of a Night: 120k

Aberration of Sunlight: 134k

This was definitely my most productive year to date. And I got so hungry: the more I wrote, the more I just wanted to keep writing, and honestly? I’m proudest of myself for literally carving writing time whenever I got a spot into my schedule. Mostly it was from 8pm-11pm, but I had a mad run where my only free window was from 1am till I literally felt I was dying… I’ll talk about that separately🤣🤣👌

Though, I'm seriously understating it.

Like a lot of other people, I would have all these hours when I was younger when I didn't have anything to do, yet I'd still find some excuse not to write. "I'm waiting for the right time." "I'm anxious I'm not going to get it right." "Tomorrow! Tomorrow I can start right from the morning, and I'll have more time to write, yeah?" or "I'm too tired now, it's late..." and so the snowball rolled down and downhill and I found every reason under the sun not to write, now that I think about it. Sigh. So much time wasted. But I can't regret it either, because I needed those baby steps at that time.

And now! Now I do what I thought I'd never learn to: I prioritize, and I actually organize my daily stuff so it's not so impossible anymore to have a little bit of writing time. I don't take it for granted either. It feels like such character growth for me, I'm immensely proud of it.

And for the record? This year was a huge improvement over yesteryear mentally, too. It turns out, what I needed to get over my word count anxiety… was to be faced with people who literally didn’t give a fuck about it, and just cared about the story. One of the most unexpected things beta stage managed to do to me… was to quench all my anxieties. It’s as simple as that. I read and enjoy very long books. People also do that. So, I’m very happy to say I’m no longer in a tizzy about ‘quiv. It might kill my chances for trad publishing, it might not. I’ll be happy come what may.

Because it’s so simple how working on ‘quiv or thinking about it makes me joyous, and now I can just enjoy that freely. I will miss writing this story so much. I really will. But at least I’ll have it forever to reread, and I hope this thought brings comfort to everyone who also has problems letting go, like it does to me.

Let’s break it down a little, shall we?🤩

Aquiver, Aglow◇◇◇

My little star of the hour. How fond I am of it.

Like you could glean from above, ‘quiv went through three drafts this year. More specifically: in the first part of the year, practically almost as soon as February arrived. I knew it was getting closer to the final version, and gave me the push to finish all three back to back. I couldn’t justify anymore the bazillion AUs I do with rewrites (basically, WHAT IFs from events, WHAT IF it went this different way, WHAT IF Tyrone actually said this here… and so on and so forth. I wanted to test out as many pathways as possible, and did I exhaust every one of them in existence? Definitely not. I don’t think that can happen, you just keep getting new ideas. On and on. What happened, instead, is that these couple different pathways, at some point, cemented themselves as canon in my mind. I didn’t want to tease myself with alternatives anymore, and that’s when I knew they would be it. Some bits from the first draft, some from the third, some from the second. Some were even draft 6 originals!

It’s a bit of a weird process. I definitely didn’t need to reach draft 3, and meet Mezusa, because I could’ve feasibly made it work with just Yles in the story. It still would’ve made sense, though in a different way. But if I hadn’t… I might’ve missed one of the best characters I’ll ever probably have created, and the story (and Yles) is much stronger for her, if you ask me.

For that matter, yes, full rewrites every single draft might take a lot of time and effort, but honestly I don’t think I’d ever change my writing process (save for the moments of frustration when I think I will lol) because of the sheer satisfaction of it. Whoever said so long never to settle on the first version, I owe you a beer and probably some curses as well lmao, but very lovingly. You shaped my writing life.

I don’t have much else to share about ‘quiv, other than it’s off with my beta readers my beloved, and maybe a tentative promise that, if anyone wants, you’ll be able to read this precious ball of hope of mine relatively soon. This story is so gentle to me. And as much as I loved to write and work on it, I dearly hope that whoever decides to give it a go, is treated just the same. That’s the only wish I have.

I also don’t know if I’ll go trad or self-published. Instincts say trad, because I fuckin’ suck at marketing (fact), and I know I’d grow resentful if I’d have to put so many hours into advertising when I know I could instead… write. I’m a writer. That’s the only thing I know how to do. Trad, however, might not be as kind on a ~200k as life’s been, so I might not have a choice. If it comes down to that… I’ll just treat it as I do everything. I don't love this story any less if I just write, publish without a fuss, hope that maybe, just maybe, a reader or two will stumble upon the story and we could talk. Maybe we can have the fun of our lives, create some genuine connection. I know that’s applies to a lot of writers. I hope we can accomplish it.

And so, I’ll finish this section of the wrap-up with a kiss to my ‘quiv, for all the warmth it’s ever brought me. It’s come so far, I know it can live distinct from me from now on. It brings me great comfort. And I look forward to the times I’ll reread it, and we can relive our best experiences together. Never thought I’d get to this point. Thank you, ‘quiv.

Remains of a Night♤♤♤

Mwhahaha! And because ‘quiv took all the pressure, this left AoS to be an extremely fun and spirited experience. Literally the chillest I’ve ever been writing. In many ways, it’s more my thing than I expected ‘quiv to be: I get to murder characters left and right, it’s more plot-heavy and banking on the tension created by a creature that horrifies the characters down to their marrow, but still the only way to defeat it is to know it better, which, uh, might have unpleasant consequences for them. It’s got chase and stealth scenes, and it always shoots me with adrenaline to think about them. In short, exactly my jam.

It’s not a new book, nope. You knew it before as Aberration of Sunlight, but from the get-go I felt it would be bigger than ‘quiv. Very fortunately for me, I had a place where to break it, and behold: there’s RoaN (book 1), and AoS (book 2). There might be a third book, which I dearly hope not because titling sucks, but it depends on the Sycamine arc. More on that in AoS.

One last thing to note, before we delve into the story (hoo-ray for earlier drafts, because I can talk more frankly about them). This is the culprit of my 1am writing adventures!!😫❤ My schedule became too packed, then NaNo came round and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to honor how AoS began, because it was last year’s NaNo, aaand I’m happy to say I won NaNo, somehow, with 56k down before I died. At that time, I only had one section left to write (from both books), otherwise, hahahaha, yeah, it wouldn’t have flown. Still, most of draft 2 I’d written in September-October, with my fairy lights, late nights, and cups of hot cocoa, exactly like how life should be<3

Alright. We’re going through them chapter-by-chapter again, exactly because I love seeing the titles so much:

ACT 1

Cracked Visor, Scorpion Grass

I did it! I did! Twas another shower thought I managed to get down in time. Bare broken sentences, but they did the impossible, and arranged this chapter into a structure I adore to bits and won't ever change. (And 'quiv's naughty voice left me alone for once and I could write it properly!) While I don't think I'll ever be happy with a first chapter (not as a concept, but the writing — part of me will always wish that the reader just had all the information already lol), this one is in the right place.

It pays its respects to the story of the broken helmet at the foot of a spaceship, and how it reconnects Madigan with all the people who'd suffered from being tethered to the planets when they yearned to fly, but the Beast punished them cruelly for it. It makes him feel phantoms of their efforts. The tone is exactly what I needed this story to start from: melancholy and numbly hopeless, against the backdrop of the Beasts's echoed cries.

Rain Through the Universe

Unlike 'quiv, because RoaN and AoS are way more plot-heavy, it's not as easy to change things willy-nilly (whereas 'quiv was all about character bonds and dynamics). As such, it's very similar to draft 1. Because of that, I'll frankendraft next (select and combine drafts 1 and 2, rewrite to connect them) and afterwards I'll try something I've always wanted to. (Scrivener keeps hinting at it!) I'm gonna split the chapters into scenes, and focus on those individually and how I can just rewrite them and set their purpose in stone<3 I'm excited!

As for the chapter itself, gods, I love the atmosphere. Just the wreckage of a sundered ship, and Madigan’s sudden madman appearance making a lasting impression on Spica, because how could it not. They no longer answer distress calls in that age, it just means more dead bodies. In fact, they're forbidden to. Madigan instead brings him what he himself lacks: hope. And a lot of crawling around while dreading the Beast's lambent eye opening, and oh my, the moments are really flying by😈👏 extreme fun for me as the writer.

Aberration of Light

If you remember, the books follow two timelines, which will connect at some point. The first and main one is Madigan and Spica’s story. The other is Holloway’s, in the distant past of that universe, and who’s been dubbed the most selfish man in existence. That’s important, because of how the Beast came to be. But that becomes important later. For now, a weird-ass new recruit has joined the ship, and the witchy crew will very soon start making bets if she’s the Beast in human flesh, which really wouldn’t bode well for their future.

Night Falls On Their Reflection

Draft 2 became Spica’s draft. It was high time. He didn't exist in the original idea beyond chapter 2, but he refused to die with his story untold. And now he's one of the most independent thinkers I've ever written. Now he's Madigan's son (yes, even at 25), best friend, back-to-back partner all in one, and I could watch the trust and mutual respect between these two forever. To be sure: Madigan comes up with the dumbass plans, and Spica's only too happy to follow him through everything (it is good fun.)

He's repaying the incredible kindness Madigan's shown him when answering his distress call, after all.

But it goes a bit further than that, doesn't it? Madigan is used to watching over myriad people. He's the Superintendent of his planet, and while he genuinely loves people, kindness is his default. It doesn't go further than that for him. He doesn't necessarily think people need, much less desire his presence there beyond Madigan extending help, and most of the time, he's content with that. Kindness does make him happy. And it should be the same with Spica now, shouldn't it? He's kind, but he's not Spica's family, nor ever will be. Yet he immediately feels a connection with the boy, that has nothing to do with bonding over escaping-a-cosmic-disaster. And so does Spica.

This is the moment when Madigan starts feeling guilty, for stepping where he should not. But here's the beauty of Spica's character: he's nothing if not dead sure of his own feelings, and what he sees with his eyes. It's okay if Madigan keeps unexpectedly taking steps back. For very long, there'd been nobody to support Spica's beliefs. So he does the same, as when he followed his heart to go into dead space: he believes in himself and Madigan, and that their paths aren't meant to diverge. They mean too much to each other for that to ever happen.

(In short, and legend says you can still hear me screeching about these two ten thousand years later, I love these two so much, and especially the parallels between Spica going alone into outer space and loving Madigan.)

(And, okay, obviously all these developments don't happen in a single chapter, but I couldn't stop gushing🤭🥰.)

Who Puts These Tombs in Ice

Overall, I think draft 2’s Luitgart performed worse than draft 1. Mainly it's the setting I want to revert (still an icy, sempiternally dark hell, but with different ice constructions) because some of the beats are a huge improvement, and again, I gotta combine the two. Otherwise, I’m still as obsessed about the Luitgart arc as I’ve ever been, and huge thanks to it for being so strong it could function as an ending of its own, allowing me to split the book.

Gettin’ into spoilery territory, but I have to un-kill Madigan so many times it leaves me in hysterics. That was what I was supposed to fix this draft. It got worse. Considerably.

(One constant: the chapter being a love letter to Madigan, and how his first answer will always be to help the other, no matter if they deserve it or not<3 and finally, finally, he gets acknowledged for it, and the favor returned.)

ACT 2

Lemon-Dotted Days + Remnant

Two Holloway chapters! I’m actually massively pleased with how they’ve turned out. Last year, I said the main issue was that I had an outline, and that never works for me. So I did what I do best and rewrote everything from scratch, and the result is both uncanny and… unexpected.

Unexpected, because I never in my life thought Holloway’s voice would make me laugh so much. He’s supposed to be unsympathetic, but then you get his interactions with Saintlark (the new crewmate, possibly Beast) where they’re contemplating the harvest of a nebula, and he’s harshly critical of it, which gives Saintlark hope… only to go deadpan One Moment Later: if they’d used the nebula to prolong their lives instead of bolstering the war, they wouldn’t have died like clown idiots.

And, they could’ve maybe stolen immortality from the nebula. They would've had to share it with him, of course. Or he would've murdered them to get it.

That, my guys, is his personality in a nutshell.

I have a lot of feelings on Holloway now, and most involve me huffing and slapping my forehead while groaning, but oh my gods. Was it ever so fun. And wait, wait, wait. Since I'm talking of humor (apparently a lot of comedy fit into this horror lmfao) I have to show you guys the following section🤣🤣👏:

Corpse Snow

The drifters are set howling on the ice. They share glances, five separate vehicles nodding at each other. Madigan revs up the engine, splitting the air with a jet of steam and vibration.

The last of the marines are climbing into the box. A figure flashes past Madigan’s drifter — and he leans over, teeth grinding because of his ribs, and he does his very best to grab someone by the back of their suit and pull. Workout days were never his strength, though. He only succeeds in stopping them in the frost smoke.

It’s Spica dangling from his hand, expressionless.

Lieutenant Hahn instantly seizes on the situation. He throws Madigan a long, withering look. “Whatcha doing, Boss?” he asks softly, about to unhinge his jaw again.

Madigan nudges Spica into the drifter. “Picking up your boy.”

Spica gets the hint and deposits himself into the front seat, glancing from his father to his Superintendent. He seems to give up on whatever’s going on, and makes himself cozy in the frosty spot. And Madigan, of course, pretends not to notice Hahn’s drifter sliding closer.

“And you didn’t consider I might want to have my son with me?”

Madigan looks up and sighs. “Lieutenant, dear Lieutenant,” he starts pleadingly. “Why won’t you show some leniency to a poor, wounded man?”

Hahn’s drifter stops, summoning a breeze across the icy floor that gently rocks the other vehicle. His breathing distorts the comms with static. “And what exactly is my son right now?”

“My trusty navigator,” Madigan answers easily.

“Sir’s emotional walking stick?” Spica pipes in at the same time.

They both look over. Spica’s quietly turned to the navigation, as serene as daylight, seemingly oblivious to how Madigan's expression changes, lightning-fast. He quickly hides it under the guise of a polite mask, as the marines stir and turn their attention on them. They’re snickering.

Lieutenant Hahn throws up his hands, giving up on everything.

This is also the first 30k chapter I’ve ever written. It's everything I've ever wanted to do with ice.

Heart of the Void

The end of the book. Originally, it was the ending section to Corpse Snow, but since it already got so ungodly long, I chipped off that bit and I have to say I’m very happy with how it works as an epilogue! So it ends the frosty, weary journey, and I can’t see the two books as separate yet, but here we bid goodbye to the first.

Aberration of Sunlight♧♧♧

I did the unthinkable and created a fifth arc. This might not seem like much to you, but I was screaming bloody murder you guys😭😭😭. Sigh. It’s so sigh. For so long, AoS consisted of four clear-cut acts, but it was necessary. With the introduction of Sycamine, and making it two books, it was just needed. It’s still one of the worst things I’ve ever done because I was used to four😃💔

(The chapters continue from where RoaN left off – from chapter 10, to 21.)

ACT 3

Retro Spectrum

Sycamine, oh Sycamine. Definitely the break I needed before Days in Darkness. It made for a really neat beginning. It’s calmer, focusing on the knowledge they have on the Beast. It’s also a reflection on Procyon (their main star) and the story of the two straggler dog constellations, and what they'd been running away from. I liked the direction it took. It veered away from the Beast for a bit, so the tension kept expanding in the background. And when it returns, well... maybe they shouldn't have been so eager to see it again🤭.

It suffers from the same syndrome as draft 1’s first chapter… it’s there in the vicinity of the idea, but too much to the left. Not bad for a first attempt. The setting annoys me – I really don't enjoy writing cities, and AoS didn't change that. So, for our next try, I was thinking... maybe we don't need to be on the planet, but up close and veeery personal with it. It's a secret❤.

And, oh gods. I put a moustache-twirling villain in this. And then I couldn’t stop myself from naming some sucker Sweetman Calories. I don’t know what happened to me during those days, but I’m crying🤣🤣🤣.

Toast to the Light

Holloway and Saintlark’s story is slowly coming to an end. Unexpectedly bleaker than draft 1, yet it feels much more sincere. Holloway has a way of saying everything Saintlark needs to hear. No surprise. They did that to themselves.

Dissonant Recognition

Ahhhh, the Madigan-is-slowly-losing-his-grip-on-reality chapter, or maybe he should really stop staring into the suns. One of my favorites<3 Also because it features Moren (!!!) who has a blast staying in the grey morality area, because she doesn’t know if her actions could ever matter, or if she could change anything. Does she just exist? Is she a player or just pawn? Who knows. Besides that, she gets along great with Spica. They form such a teasing duo, the level of mutual respect they felt for each other on sight was a delight to write. My favorite ally of theirs, even if her destiny lies elsewhere.

Night Beneath the Elevator

Best title hands down, dethroning Solgesis. I’m going batshit crazy about the visuals, it's exactly my thing. This half-light slanted over an elevator waiting in a rundown basement to be boarded. And there's something underneath it, and always has been. Something insidiously creeping up and waving its tendril fingers at you as you're just waiting for the fucking thing to ascend. Immaculate, guys, I'm telling you, and I'm cursing my hands because I can't make a wallpaper of this. I want to eat that atmosphere.

Time-sensitive missions, y'all.

And why the heck did nobody inform me I was going to add Command as an actual character and have them talk with Madigan?! That entire convo, made up entirely on the spot but somehow with a direction, made me realize what an idiot I’d been for not doing it sooner. They mean so much to Madigan, after all.

(And Mariya. So much Mariya in these chapters.)

ACT 4

Loop System

Like Who Puts These Tombs in Ice, draft 1 might’ve done it better. Not Spica and Madigan, though, because of the sheer development Spica’s been through and the dynamic he’s managed to form with the crew. It's different from Madigan’s, but similar enough that it’s got Hahn commenting lightly: [Spica’s] picked up quite a few habits from Madigan, hasn’t he? Almost as if they’ve gotten very very close, huh? How about Madigan tell him more?

(I adore writing Hahn.)

Outreach

Another Holloway chapter. Doesn’t have the punch of the kids subplot from draft 1, but this just makes it worse for Saintlark personally, because, this time, the consequences are on her.

Days in Darkness

I knew the moment I first got the idea this would be my favorite chapter. Well, it finally happened in draft 2: when the entire crew is here, this time, and ready for the final countdown, to relive the experience of being trapped in a ship that's disintegrating. No more heroes left behind. I'd been so tired writing this chapter in draft 1, but this time around it was incredible. Everything went up sharply from here, both in terms of events and how on fire I was.

(Maybe less than the gorgon, but I was.)

ACT 5

Echo Terminal

The first of the two log chapters.

I've never written smoother, more visual chapters than in this period. Days in Darkness changed me so much, I was writing day and night by this point and couldn't get enough. Well, I hit my limit in the second half of the very last chapter, but I am beyond satisfied. Even the Beast's metamorphosis took me by storm, because I'd been wondering what the final verbs, the final images, the final design for it was going to be. I didn't expect it to come to me this early, and with such thrill. Those were my very best days of the year, and I toast to them.

(And I knew it was going to be fantastic when Halo's Warthog Run OST started blaring in my head, with as much adrenaline.)

Where, Now? + Solgesis

My beloved. The second and last of the two log chapters, but it’s Noelle Saintlark’s log.

Holloway’s timeline ends here. Or maybe it just gets carried into the future. I thought I’d want to rewrite his parts again, make the plot just a tiny bit more psychedelic and nonsensical because it’s so close to the Beast… but Solgesis put all my fears to rest. Even the formatting and layout is a bit of that special thing I’ve always wanted to try, and it really changes the perspective of the previous chapters. There's a new confession that stands at the heart of Holloway's stories.

Honestly, the only thing that needs urgent working on is the anger at the end of the chapter.

Anger is so hard for me to write sometimes. Not because I don’t connect with it, but because I feel self-conscious writing it. The wildest I felt it was when I tackled 'quiv's chapter 3 and Imera's Turning speech, both in quick succession (before I'd even written draft 1. I'd been taking notes.) Since then... I just thing back to how keenly I'd felt that anger, and I kind of intimidate myself out of it. Kind of like a natural resistence, I quench it from myself. Which is actually hilarious when you think about it. It’s like I’m going I BANISH THEE FROM MY BRAIN because generally, as a person, I dislike feeling and operating on anger. But no worries. I’m going to find a way around it.

Watch me😎.

What Goes Around…

(Now it’s the time for me to start crying some rivers, and, alright, it won’t be visible so I’ll say it: the chapter titles are holding a conversation, guys. They speak to each other. And sometimes it’s both sides of the same coin, like how What Goes Around (comes around) hints here. If you take two chapters, one from the beginning and one from the end (for example 1 and 21) it'll tell you a little secret. Okay, What Goes Around and Rain Through the Universe communicate through their plot, which I can’t spoil but of course it has to do with Madigan and Spica and how they first meet… but there is one title pair that does it best visibly.

Lemon-Dotted Days and Days in Darkness.

And I hadn’t even planned this. All the parallels I wanted to draw… I feel like they built themselves, guys. They really did, and it makes me so wildly happy I don’t even know how to stop my hands from flailing.

And, with them being 21 chapters, they meet in the middle, on the one unpaired chapter.

Called Toast to the Light.

I friggin’ love everything.

New Sunrise, Forget-Me-Right

Of course, Forget-Me-Right is a play on Scorpion Grass. But it’s also such a gentle name for the chapter, because everything ends here. Lying on their backs, staring out into the universe, and it really, really is over. Just a dark horizon on which stars flare and bloom. And suddenly, that maddened rush to make every sacrifice count, to remember every soul they’ve encountered because the legend says the Beast absorbs you when it kills you – all that suffocating pressure dissipates. Lightness remains. Because they’ve protected each other.

For the first time in my writing journey, blood rushed to my head with such emotion I had to stop writing, which never happens. I had to look up and exclaim, holy fuck. But how could I not, considering how the story ends for the Beast? I am speechless. A lot of gorgeous surprises this draft.

Conclusion□●□

Whew, what a year it's been! As for how 2024 will probably look like, though I don't like making plans: finishing the beta stage for 'quiv, and tackling RoaN and AoS's draft 3. Thaaaat one I'm actually starting on Christmas, when I can (finally!!) reread draft 2 with my mug of hot cocoa (or maybe mulled wine for a change) and, no surprises here, I'm hyper stoked for that<3 <3 <3 I legit can't wait to see where the new draft brings them. I might not have set any expectations for them, but they're vying to keep up with 'quiv and I adore it🤭❤

As for my lovely friends... well, you know by how I spam your tags how much I adore you and wish you happiness forever🤩🥺🥳 I don't know what my activity will look like in the near future, so for now I won't be saying anything, and my semi-hiatus continues. Semi, because you're unforgettable and I crave to see what everyone's been up to and (!!!!) what you've written!

So let's meet in 2024 again, and all the best wishes to you, the reader🥰🥂❤.

#ayearofwriting #2023 #aquiver-aglow #aberration of sunlight

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