#(though it can make for some good bonding and comforting)

[godzexperiment]

His capacity to think an absurd amount+information storage- how it impacts his thinking and conveying things when he's passionately rambling. Or trying to get it out into visual writing etc. But also, the pain literally of it. When he overtaxes all his brain; so he's just noticeably caught up in it all and not quite processing the physical space around him. But not in his usual ways. And because there is no off switch every new little observation or thing to file away just makes it worst, makes his head hurt.

[seijorhi]

All In

the beta fic you have been waiting months for <33 Ushijima Wakatoshi, Semi Eita & Tendou Satori x female reader w.c 6.8k tw: yandere themes, a/b/o, noncon, (sorta) smut, nsfw, one mention of blood and oozing wounds, implied stalking, forced claiming

“They’re good guys – good alphas. This won’t be like last time, I promise. You’ll see what I mean when you meet them,” Ayako murmurs, squeezing your hand in reassurance and offering you a brilliant grin. “They’re gonna love you.”

Love seems a bit of a stretch.

But Aya looks so… hopeful. You sigh. “You really like them, huh?”

“I really like them,” she admits, a pretty pink blush tingeing her cheeks. “You come first, though. You’re my beta, and if it doesn’t feel right, we’ll walk, okay? No questions asked.” 

A promise she’s kept more than once. Too many times. Omegas like Aya, young and vibrant and oh-so-lovely, shouldn’t have any trouble finding a pack to settle down with. Hell, alphas should be banging down the door just for a chance with her – to fuck, to bond, anything and everything in between. You’re the sticking point. The reason why Ayako hasn’t bonded into a pack yet.

Alphas have no interest in betas. They do nothing for them – can’t take a knot, don’t have heats. Betas aren’t durable enough to ride out an alpha’s rut. All that compounded by the simple fact that bonding bites between the two don’t last longer than a few months, so why bother?

You’re dead weight. Aya clings to you anyway. 

She pulls your hand to her cheek, the tender, delicate spot right beneath the curve of her jaw. Scenting, you realise a touch belatedly. Omegas have stronger scents than betas do; florals, spice, indulgent, enticing things – you once knew an omega whose scent reminded you of hot caramel drizzled over apple pie. Ayako smells like lilacs and the rain, a softer scent admittedly, yet one that screams of home and comfort and familiar things. 

Your own scent is milder. Now, on top of sea salt and that faint whisper of summer, you’ll smell a little of her. She’s claiming you as pack, as hers. Her beta, exactly as she’d said

A flutter of warmth blooms in your chest, and you smile back at her, the first genuine one of the night. 

“You look great, by the way,” she tells you. “Come on, Tendou messaged to say they’re running a bit late and we should head on in without them. Ushijima’s practice doesn’t finish up ‘til about seven, so we’ve got plenty of time for the show.” She winks and lets out a bubbling laugh and you kind of feel like you’ve missed the joke.

Nevertheless, you let her tug you into the stadium. The lady behind the ticketing counter slides across two visitor’s passes on lanyards when Ayako gives your names.

“Practices are closed to the public,” the omega explains in a hushed voice while the two of you make your way towards the door for the stands. “Apparently the team get a few passes they can hand out to whoever they like – pack, usually.”

The pass has your name printed on it. Beneath it, in bold; Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

You finger the plastic edges absentmindedly. 

There’s other people in the stands, all wearing the same style lanyard draped around your neck. Some, you think, are partners. Friends and family. Pack, like Ayako said. You spy a woman maybe a few years older than you, bouncing a toddler on her lap and pointing animatedly towards the court, another guy sitting beside her, an arm curled over the back of her seat. Others appear to be there in a more official capacity – staff, you suppose, wearing the same white polo edged in blue and gold (team colours, you guess), talking quietly amongst themselves and jotting things down on expensive looking tablets. 

They pay you no mind. Ayako does the same, dragging you right up to the guard-rail with an excited gasp. You’d been expecting them to be running laps or tossing balls in pairs or something. You weren’t expecting anything like this. 

Without the roar of a crowd, every noise on the court is amplified; the squeaking of shoes, the thwack of palms meeting leather, shouts ricocheting from both sides as they scramble for the ball.

Scramble isn’t the right word, though. It flies through the air between the players, choreographed chaos.

One of the players, a dark haired behemoth, shoots up and connects with the ball, slamming it over the net with a terrifying force – you feel the impact in your chest when it hits the floor.

A whistle rings out.

“Oh my god,” Aya breathes.

The behemoth turns, dark eyes zeroing in on your figure from across the court. His nostrils flare.

Alpha, you realise. He’s one of Aya’s alphas.

Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

“You know he’s one of the top wing spikers in the country, and he’s on the national team? He’s already got like three Olympic medals! Three!” she gushes. “He’s incredible.”

You hardly hear her. The other players on the court, his teammates, are already re-setting, a blond slapping Ushijima on the back, another hurling a teasing jab across the net – earning him a middle finger in response – Ushijima’s gaze doesn’t shift, his attention doesn’t waver. You swear you see his pupils dilate. 

Your breath is caught somewhere in your chest. 

“Are you gonna wave at the alpha you dressed so pretty for?” 

“Would you stop?” you hiss, tearing your gaze away to jab an elbow into Ayako’s side, which she artfully dodges with a delighted giggle. 

“Can’t say I blame you for drooling. I practically melted into a puddle the first time Semi dragged him into the bakery. He’s hot as hell,” she sighs. 

The problem is, she isn't wrong. Weird, heavy, way too intense eye contact aside, Ushijima is the textbook definition of ‘hot alpha’; all tall and broad shouldered, his face hewn with clean, strong lines. Add on the ridiculous athleticism, the muscles that clearly aren’t just for show – yeah, no wonder Aya’s got heart eyes already. 

On the court below, the whistle blows. More cheers. Another point scored. By the time you glance down again, Ushijima’s lost interest, his focus returned to the game, nodding at something one of the (you presume) coaches yells across the court.

The tight, prickling feeling writhing beneath your skin, that doesn’t fade as quick. 

God, you’re way too worked up about this whole thing. 

“He’s very, uh…” 

“Intimidating? No– impressive? Or were you gonna say sexy? All true, by the way. Ushiwaka’s a beast.”

The other two alphas have finally deigned to grace you with their presence. Wonderful. 

Swallowing back a wince, you turn to face the duo. “Good,” you say. “I was going to say he’s very… good.”

Aya had told you the basics, of course; Semi’s the lead singer slash guitarist in a band, Tendou’s a chocolatier. The former used to be a civil servant, the latter recently moved back from a stint in Paris, and both of them played Volleyball with Ushijima in high school. 

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting. Carbon cutouts of their packmate, maybe, big, brawny, radiating the kind of imposing dominance that forces everyone around them – other alphas included – to sit down and shut up with a look alone. 

The two alphas before you aren’t that. 

The shorter of the two, more wiry in his build than the redhead beside him, smirks. “Good, huh?” 

He’s teasing you. They’re both teasing you. Your cheeks burn hotter. Before you can open your mouth to apologise, try and sidestep you shoving your own foot in your mouth as a first impression, Aya intervenes. 

“You should’ve seen her a minute ago, her jaw was on the ground. She’s playing it cool.”

The sound of her laugh digs at you in a way it shouldn’t. 

It’s not fair, not when you’re the one who’s acting like you don’t have a single working brain cell and she’s trying to cover for you, but it bothers you when Ayako acts like she has to smoothe over your edges, make you more palatable, more pleasing. You’re not an omega, you won’t ever be an omega, and sometimes you can’t help but wonder if Aya’s gonna spend the rest of your lives trying to compensate for that.

Her shoulder knocks with yours, a gentle bump, that same hopeful, painfully optimistic look in her eyes. 

Guilt, an old, familiar friend at this point, washes over you. 

“This is Semi,” she introduces, gesturing at the ash-blond with the ripped jeans, “and Tendou,” the gangly redhead. 

“And you must be our beta,” Semi surmises, slowly eyeing you over. 

The casual possessiveness rankles you, your tight smile freezing in place. Again Ayako simply laughs, her fingers, very deliberately, lacing with yours once more. “She’s my beta, you have yet to win her over.”

Neither alpha appears all that put out by the prospect.

Tendou, eyes crinkling with a wide, eager grin that takes you a little aback, thrusts a hand out towards you, a white gift bag you hadn’t noticed dangling from his fingertips. “Presents help with the whole wooing thing, right?” he jokes.

From your experience, yes. 

Aya’s received plenty. You, as her tag along beta, less so. 

One pack brought you a bouquet of pink and white peonies on your first date. Not quite as  extravagant as the arrangement of roses they presented Aya with, they had a lovely, subtle perfume and when you put them in a vase and set them atop your nightstand, they brightened up the whole room. You could appreciate that they’d at least tried to make you feel an equal part of this. 

They’d been willing to play pretend.

Back then, when Aya first started bringing potential packs around, you were… idealistic. Naive, maybe. 

You watched them dote on her. Lap up Aya’s attention like it was the sweetest fix. You saw the hunger. The arousal that flared, thick and syrupy, whenever she did something unintentionally appealing to the alpha inside of them – a simple stretch, nibbling on her bottom lip while she mulled over a menu, the sway of her hips as she walked up to the bar.

Oh, they were polite to you. Drew you into conversations, chatted about your job, your hobbies, the plans the two of you had for the holidays in a few weeks’ time – all the while tracking every movement of the omega beside you from the corner of their eyes.

They were nice to you. You didn’t want ‘nice’. You wanted what they so freely offered to Aya; hunger and captivated attention, a desire so thick in the air you could choke on it. 

Foolish, pretty fantasies. There’s no competing with biology, you know that. The most interesting, beautiful beta in the room is still just a beta. 

Down below, the court’s quieter, muted chatter drifting up to the bleachers in place of squeaking and thuds and the sharp trill of whistles blowing. Did the practice match finish up?

Aya squeezes your hand. Drops it. As subtle a cue as she can manage. 

Brain kicking back into gear, you step closer and pluck the gift from the alpha’s outstretched hand, an odd little shiver trickling down your spine when the tips of your fingers graze his rough palm. 

“Ah, thank you,” you say, remembering your manners at last.

Tendou’s eyes flutter shut, breathing in deep, shuddering a little on the exhale. When they open again, there’s a giddy sort of satisfaction creeping from his expression. He licks his lips, smiling wide. “Sea salt.”

“… Sorry?”

“The chocolates,” his chin juts towards the gift. “Sea salt caramel. I had a feeling, went with it. I’m not usually wrong.” He sounds absurdly proud of the fact. 

“Oh.” 

Beside you, Aya looks as lost as you feel. Semi, on the other hand, snorts, shaking his head. “You might wanna ease up on the beta, dude. She met you all of three minutes ago.”

“Yeah, but we’re gonna be besties. I can feel it.” Without warning he slings an arm over your shoulders, dragging you close to smush you into his side, unbothered by your startled yelp, the way the bag of chocolates smacks against his torso when the hand clutching it jerks out to steady yourself. “Don’t be jealous ‘cuz I’m already the favourite, Semi-Semi.”

Semi shrugs, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, leaning back against the centre railing behind him. Slowly, a smirk unfurls. A challenge. “For now.”

Plastered against Tendou’s side, swallowed up by the heat of him, the heady scent of cherrywood – of alpha – thick and strong, and with no sign of him letting you go anytime soon, you dart a glance to Aya.

Your best, oldest (admittedly only) friend, watching the three of you with a quirked eyebrow, expression otherwise indecipherable–

And then, she giggles, rolling her eyes with exasperated amusement. “Can we at least sit while you two fight over my well-earned spot?” 

You wonder if they notice the brief look of concern she throws your way as Tendou relaxes his hold and the two usher you over to a seat, Semi snagging the one to your left, Aya taking the right.

Her promise from earlier rings in your head. One word and she’ll walk, no questions asked. 

Aya needs a pack. She wants this one. She likes this one, but at some point, she’ll need one. 

Omegas don’t do well long term without mates. Right now her heats are okay, manageable with suppressants and toys – eventually those won’t be enough. They’ll get worse, come without warning, more frequently. The suppressants won’t help, she’ll ache and burn up, forgo food, water, sleep…

The lucky ones end up hospitalised. The unlucky ones either end up dead or in situations where it’d be a kindness if they were. 

“You okay?” she asks, whisper soft. Her voice won’t carry, the other two aren’t paying attention anyway. Semi’s thigh brushes up against yours when he spreads his legs wide, thumbing out a message on his phone, and Tendou’s leaning over the backrest between you, chin perched on his folded forearms, watching him type. 

One word and she’ll walk, that’s what Aya promised. 

Down on the court below, the players spread across the floor, stretching out and cooling down, half empty water bottles and sweat towels scattered around them. Ushjima’s lying on your side of the court, one thigh drawn over the other, twisting out his lower back. If he realises he’s got an audience in you and Aya, he gives no indication of caring, holding the stretch for a few seconds longer before repeating the motion with the other leg. 

“Yeah.”

If chocolates and overly tactile besties are what you get out of this, you can manage that. 

—

While you wait out front of the stadium for Ushijima to finish up, Semi smokes.

A lit cigarette dangles loosely between two fingers, the tip glowing cherry red with every drag. He stands separate from the three of you, a few feet away, because when he’d fished out the slightly crumpled packet from his jacket pocket to pluck one out, Aya’s nose wrinkled. Omegas are sensitive to strong smells at the best of times, and Aya’s loathed the stench of cigarettes ever since she was a kid and her dad would smoke on the back porch of her gran’s place. He died years ago, and to this day she swears up and down that every time she sets foot back there, she smells those Seven Stars.

To her credit, she hadn’t actually said anything, and to Semi’s, he hadn’t kicked up a fuss. He’d shrugged, shuffled on back and lit up anyway. Water off a duck’s back.

Tendou talks loudly and Aya’s giggling laugh echoes louder. Semi watches. Idle – bored, almost. 

Until his gaze shifts to you.

And stays there.

From a young age, you’re taught that alphas are stronger than betas and omegas. They’re quicker. Smarter. In the old days, they tell you, alphas were the hunters, the providers – protectors, when the situation called for it. What they mean, dressing the truth up in nicer, more palatable terms is that alphas are, down to their marrow, predators. 

Those instincts don’t go away just because society’s a little more civilised these days. 

Semi’s expression doesn’t change. There’s nothing particularly dangerous or threatening there, nothing to explain the sudden ball of anxiety that lodges itself in your stomach. 

Yet you can’t shake the sense that with that stare, every ounce of his focus rests solely on you. Every breath, every nervous twitch, shift of your muscles, all of it tracked, analysed. He stares, breathing out a slow plume of smoke, and you feel the physical weight of it bearing down on you.

He won’t bite, lunge for the kill – but he could.

His chin tilts, eyebrow lifting. A flicker of amusement, as if he knows exactly the thoughts running wild in your head. You shake them off, ignore the hammering of your heart to follow the wordless, beckoning call to his side, nudging Aya on the way past so she won’t think you’ve abandoned her. 

“You realise she’s gonna try and get you to quit,” you tell him in what you hope is a friendly, upbeat tone. 

Semi scoffs and takes another drag of his cigarette. You watch, off-kilter, a little dazed as his head tilts back, exposing the long, lithe column of his throat, and he slowly exhales.

With dark, sweeping lashes and angular features, the problem, you realise, is that Semi is distractingly pretty. An artless, grunged up sort of pretty. Pretty like pools of oil on asphalt after it rains. 

Pretty in the way that poisonous things often are. 

“She’s more than welcome to try.” He plucks his cig from his lips and extends it your way, his expression almost… goading. 

You don’t take it.

There isn’t much surprise to be found in your refusal, his pretty mouth pursing as his arm falls by the wayside. “Omega’s got her claws stuck in you good, huh.”

And that’s the rub, isn’t it. What all this boils down to. Right from the start, the very first pack you met and every pack since – Aya’s made it clear from the get-go. They don’t get her without you. You’re her beta. 

“Is that a problem for you?”

You won’t take the cigarette because Aya has issues with it. She won’t entertain you leaving her because the two of you are too fucking entangled in one another to handle extrication.

You’re pack, you’re family, you’re all each other has left, now that her grandma – the woman who essentially raised you and her – is gone. 

You won’t play second fiddle, if only because Aya won’t allow them to push you aside like that. If that’s a problem, a dealbreaker (and, historically speaking, it has been) better they figure it out now, before she – or you – gets too attached and ends up hurt. 

Semi regards you for a long moment, taking one last puff of his cigarette before he flicks it away, grinds the smoldering butt into the cement with the toe of his boot. “Don’t know yet. Guess we’ll find out.”

And you nod, because at least that’s an honest answer. 

“Tendou came back to Japan for her, didn’t he?” It’d twigged when you’d gone to hand back your visitor’s pass and the lady behind the counter made some casual comment about not expecting to see him ‘til next season.

Not back for a visit, back permanently.

Semi shakes his head, “He was always coming back. Paris was only ever a temporary thing,” he corrects. “But yeah, he made the decision to come home early when we realised the opportunity that’d fallen into our laps.”

While you don’t love the way he makes meeting Aya sound, you understand the gravity of what he’s saying. Tendou uprooted his life for her. 

You glance back over your shoulder, fiddling with the handles of the bag of chocolates he’d made for you. They’re still talking, quieter now, both of them subtly – subconsciously, probably – angled towards the two of you; Aya with that same bright-eyed look about her, Tendou like he’s just itching to interrupt and steal your attention back for himself. He, at least, might actually like you. 

“And you? Are you all in, too?”

The words slip out before you can stop them. Semi doesn’t owe you an answer, you know that. It’s not fair that you asked, it’s just– you can’t get a read on him. For all his sharp edges and the smirks that make your insides squirm, you don’t know whether this is what he wants. Wanted, maybe.

Semi surprises you. In a move too quick for you to catch, he closes in on you. He doesn’t pin you down per se. You’re not caged in, trapped between his body and a wall. Physically speaking, there’s nothing stopping you from stepping back and regaining that inch of space as he looms over your shorter frame, tilting your chin upwards with two curled fingers like he’s going to kiss you. 

Nothing except your suddenly jelly legs. 

There’s barely anything separating you. Millimetres. Heat floods your face. Your stomach tightens, blood simmering, writhing beneath your skin. Long fingers encircle your wrist, right where Aya had scented you, his thumb digging in over your fluttering pulse. A noise escapes you then, a distressed sort of whimper you thought yourself above, and Semi’s eyes flick down to your lips, something dark and hungry flaring in response. 

Alpha. Smaller than his packmates, but no less. 

“Who d’you think called him and told him to get his ass back home, little beta?” 

You swallow unsteadily–

“Time to share, Semi-Semi,” Tendou sings, snaking an arm around your waist to haul you away from the blond. To you, he says, “You wanna come say hi to our big, bad pack alpha, don’tcha?” 

It’s then you realise that Ushijima, along with several of his teammates, have finally emerged. While they wave each other off, scattering across the carpark, some heading to their cars, others in the direction of buses and the train station, Ushijima halts near the door – Aya already skipping on over. 

“Ah… yes?”

Tendou snickers. 

“Relax,” Semi tells you with a smirk, clapping your shoulder as he brushes on past. “Ushiwaka doesn’t bite.” 

As Tendou nudges you forward like an errant duckling, you fix Semi with an unimpressed look. He winks. Asshole.

Omegas, especially unbonded omegas, tend to be picky about touch and physical affection outside of pack and family. Aya, for all her moon-eyed infatuation, doesn’t throw herself at the alpha. Ushijima offers a single, wooden pat on her head, the edges of his mouth lifting in what you suppose is an approximation of a smile.

She beams all the same.

“– and this is my beta,” she introduces. 

You’re not anticipating an overly warm welcome. For one, he looks stiff enough smiling at Aya to suspect he’s not practised with the expression, for another… the whole, weird staring thing from earlier sits all too fresh in your mind. If he’d heard your awkward fumbling with his packmates in the aftermath, you doubt that’s helped endear you to him any.

Nothing prepares you for the way he turns, every speck of goodwill falling from his features when your scent finally reaches him. Cold, remote stone, eyeing you down. 

“You smell like lilacs,” he grunts, like the very concept offends him. You, a beta, wearing his would-be mate’s scent. 

—

The izakaya the alphas take you to is only a few minutes walk from the stadium, and each one of them passes in near unbearable, stilted tension. 

Aya doesn’t question you when you make a bee-line for the bathroom rather than following the others to a table, though the small furrow between her brows says plenty.

You just need a minute.

The single unisex stall offers spartan amenities at best – a sink with a cracked mirror hammered into the wall, paper towels, and a lone, flickering light above. 

Braced over the porcelain vanity, eyes closed, shaking like a leaf with remnants of ice-cold water dripping down your face, you will the frantic, sickening churn inside you to ease. 

Fuck. 

What’s wrong with you?

Ushijima could barely stand that Aya had scented you, and you’re supposed to believe he’d let you bond into the pack with her? And if he did, what kind of life would that be? You, forever on the outside, pack but not really, not in the ways that matter. 

What place does a beta have between alphas and their omega?

More to the point, how, after all the packs you and Aya have tried this with, all the the indifference and dismissal you’ve weathered, the cruel insults you weren’t supposed to hear–

Think of it this way, dude; it’s a spare hole for you to stick your cock in while the omega’s busy bouncing on my knot.

–how are you still surprised that they don’t want you?

You let a slow breath out, shoulders sagging. Okay. 

Okay. 

Straightening up, you rip a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser, dabbing to remove any trace of distress from your face. You can do this, you tell yourself. Smile, play pretend. A few drinks, some dumplings, yakitori – two, three hours max.

Nothing’s changed.

The alphas want Ayako. Ayako wants these alphas.

In spite of that, in spite of the blushing and fawning and big, lovely doe eyes that bat ever so prettily for her alphas, she’ll hold true to her promise if you ask it of her. 

No questions asked, without an ounce of resentment, she’d walk away from them. She’d choose you. 

It’d be a few weeks of moping around, picking each other up and dusting yourselves off. There’ll be other packs. Aya’s got a few years yet before her heats really become an issue. You can always try again.

The thing is… you don’t want to anymore.

They like you as a friend. You’re in the way. They wanna fuck you, but only if the omega’s otherwise occupied. You can take care of the household stuff during heats and ruts, right? Maybe one day there could be something more. 

They wouldn’t look twice if it wasn’t for Ayako. 

Every time it hurts, like clawing out pieces of yourself, and you just… you can’t anymore. You won’t.

So tonight, you’ll be the bestie. Let her have her fun, flirt with the big, strong alphas she’s so enamoured by, and then tomorrow… tomorrow you’ll find a way to cut yourself loose from all of this. Aya gets her pack and you can find a nice, normal beta to settle down with. You’ll both be happier for it in the long run. 

Wiping a smudge of mascara from under your eye, you suck in another fortifying breath, nodding at yourself in the mirror. A few hours of pretending is nothing. A piece of cake.

Focused entirely on the veneer you have to slip into, you don’t notice the large, muscular frame blocking the door until you quite literally collide with it.

“Oof– Sorry, my b–”

The words wither like ash on your tongue when you look up to find Ushijima standing over you.

Despite the resolution you’d come to mere moments ago, you’re not feeling particularly charitable towards the hulking behemoth of an alpha, and you have every intention of wordlessly skirting around him to head back to the table and join your friend, civility be damned. 

You make it all of a single step before a change sweeps over him and he stiffens, nostrils flaring like they had back on the court. His eyes bleed black, and that’s the only warning you get before he seizes your wrist in one giant hand and starts to haul you back into the stall, slamming the door shut behind you both. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” you hiss. 

“She scented you,” he growls, looking angrier than he did before. “You smell like omega.”

No, this isn’t anger. Not exactly. Ushijima’s shoulders heave with every breath, his whole frame almost shuddering, pulled taut like a bowstring primed to snap–

And that’s when realisation hits. 

“You’re in a rut,” you whisper, eyes going wide in horror. “Ushiji–” You don’t get to finish the sentence. 

Big should mean slow. Clumsy. Ushijima’s neither. 

In an instant he surges into motion, one hand clamping down over your mouth, the other shoving you forward, trapping you on the tips of your toes between his hulking body and the vanity that was your lifeline five minutes ago. Just like then, your hands automatically reach out, clutching the edge of the sink to steady yourself. Stupid, when the full weight of Ushijima pins you precariously in place anyway.

Your heart hammers, panic and terror clawing at your stomach. You aren’t an omega, you can’t take a knot. If Ushijima tries to fuck you like he wants – like his instincts are driving him to – he’ll tear you apart. He’ll break you. 

But if any part of the mindless, snarling alpha behind you recognises that, he doesn’t care. The warm body in his grasp smells like lilacs, like the omega outside, and that’s good enough.

He noses at your hair and pants, yanking your skirt up to rip at your underwear. The fabric gives easily.

While he rips and claws at his own clothes to free his cock, Ushijima stares at your reflection, watching you shake as the tears well up and spill over. There’s nothing human there, nothing cognizant. The black pits staring back at you are pure alpha, consumed by the need to fuck and breed. 

You have seconds – seconds – to brace yourself.

Ushijima drags the head of his cock along your slit just once, bends you over, and without warning or preamble, splits you in two. 

Omegas have slick to help with sudden ruts. You don’t. 

It doesn’t matter that you’re not prepared to take him, that it hurts worse than anything you’ve experienced before and you’re choking on tears and muffled wails. You scream into his hand and Ushijima grunts, bullying his cock into you one agonising millimetre at a time. 

He fucks into you like you’re made to take his cock, every thrust slamming you into the unforgiving edge of the sink while your legs scramble for purchase. You’re fairly sure you’re close to passing out when you feel the swell of his knot start to catch. 

Oblivious to your panic, the wheezing cries and pleas dashed against his palm, the alpha snarls in open-mouthed pleasure, his spare hand coming down to cover one of your own, braced against the sink. “Mine.”

With the added weight, the vanity unit rattles against the wall, and you pray that someone’s walking by and hears it, cares enough to come investigate.

You aren’t that lucky, though.

Ushijima hauls you back upright, and as his knot swells, thick and pulsing, stretching you to breaking point and spurts of hot cum coat your insides, you cling on to consciousness just long enough to watch him tilt your chin to the side, lap at a bead of sweat trailing down your neck, and bury his teeth in your skin. 

—

Three days after your release from hospital, you wake to Aya knocking at your bedroom.

“S’posed to be at the bakery,” you mumble, curling tighter into the warm cocoon of your sheets. Soft morning light spills into your room. You can’t be bothered reaching for your phone to see the time, however your internal clock tells you that whatever the time is, it’s too early.

Aya sighs, taking that as an invitation to slip inside and plant herself on the edge of the mattress beside you. “Soon. I swapped shifts so I could start a bit later. I didn’t want…” she seems to struggle to find the right words, her shoulders rising and falling in a helpless shrug. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know.”

That isn’t the problem. 

“You remember the day your mom left?” The stark flinch beneath the covers must serve as answer enough. “You wouldn’t stop crying. Gran was so worried you’d make yourself sick, kept bringing you tea, bottles of water, anything to keep you hydrated.” 

An omega like her granddaughter, the last of her alphas having passed away a few years before, she’d paced fretfully outside Aya’s bedroom door for hours while you’d sobbed into your best friend’s arms, an absolute wreck. 

A bittersweet feeling floods your heart at the memory. No one ever loved you like gran did. 

Aya continues, “I made a decision that day. I wasn’t going to leave. I wasn’t going to run off with a bunch of alphas to live out some fairytale happily ever after and leave you behind. You can blame me for what happened. I get it. If I hadn’t scented you, he–” she breaks off with a sharp inhale.

He wouldn’t have tipped into a rut.

Wouldn’t have fucked you.

Knotted you.

Bit you. 

“You can blame me for it,” she repeats, though her voice shakes and her eyes shine with tears she won’t let fall. “Hate me for it if you have to, so long as you know I’m not going anywhere. You’re still my beta, my best friend. All I wanted was to keep us together.”

Aya waits for you to say something. To forgive or condemn, and you try– you genuinely do, because blaming her isn’t fair, and you could no sooner hate her than you could carve out a lung. 

Only… you open your mouth and there’s nothing. 

The way her expression collapses before she has a chance to plaster over it hits you like a punch to the stomach. 

“Alright, lovely girl. I’ll see you when I get back – four-ish probably, unless we get hit with a late rush. I’ll try and steal some of those mini strawberry cakes to bring home too, I know how much you like them,” she rambles, patting your blanket covered knee and rising to her feet. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Aya–”

Already halfway to the door, she turns, perfect brow arched, “Hm?” Like she’s expecting you to ask for another blanket. Some tea. Nothing wrong, nothing amiss. 

“Love you, too.”

And it’s like the sun coming out from the clouds. Aya beams a watery smile, and quietly closes the door behind her. 

Sleep drags you back under before you hear the front door click. The doctors warned you about that; one of the many charming side effects you’d be subjected to over the next few weeks.

Bond sickness, they called it. An alpha’s bite formed a mating bond, and that bond doesn’t respond well when it’s neglected, say by putting several miles of distance between you and the alpha who marked you. For omegas it can be deadly if it goes on long enough. Alphas have a sense of it, but it doesn’t affect them in the same way. They don’t get sick. For you, it means a month or so of lethargy, aches, low grade fevers and chills, nausea, a veritable shopping list of symptoms that’ll ease and fade as the bond itself does. 

None of that had stopped one of the nurse’s at the hospital from suggesting that, despite the delicate nature of the situation, it might be beneficial for your health if you moved in with Ushijima and his pack until it did fade. 

It was Aya who’d jumped down her throat for that one. 

You were still in shock. Numb–

Except for the foreign, slow simmering anger lodged like a thorn between your ribs. A small piece of you that wasn’t you at all. 

—

Sometime around midmorning, you stir again.

There’s footsteps in the living room, pattering through towards your bedroom. Dancing on the edge of awake, your brain slow and sluggish, jumps to the most logical conclusion. 

“Aya?” 

You expect your door to open, that familiar bloom of lilacs to spill into your room along with your best friend, a bowl of noodle soup from the shop on the corner in tow, the strawberry cakes she promised earlier, extra pillows, coffee, her laptop with your favourite movie already queued up; comfort things she knows will help.

The door does swing open, and neither one of the tall, looming frames behind it belong to Aya. 

“Sorry to disappoint, little beta,” Semi drawls, crossing the threshold like he has every right to be there. “Your girlfriend’s busy, you’re gonna have to play with us instead.”

The blood in your veins runs cold. 

Drawing your legs up tight to put as much distance between you and the advancing alpha as you can, your eyes dart between the two, Tendou lingering in the doorway, fingers drumming against the jamb. 

“I didn’t report him. I’m not going to,” you tell them, clutching at the blankets around you so your hands won’t shake. “I know how it’ll go, I’m not i-interested in–”

Semi reaches your bed. That look he’d had in his eyes back at the stadium, dark, focused, predatory – it’s there again, sharp and gleaming. He’s smirking. 

“There’s no– you don’t need to threaten me, or-or try to scare me–” His knee hits the mattress and your voice jumps to a squeak as he climbs on up.

You squirm back against the headboard. Semi prowls closer. 

There’s nowhere for you to go. 

Tendou’s not so subtly placed himself between you and the exit, and even if you could launch yourself out of bed without Semi catching you – without your head spinning and stomach threatening to upheave – they’re alphas. You couldn’t outrun them on a good day, you sure as hell can’t fight them.  

“Please. You can go. I-I won’t say anything.”

“Fuck, that’s cute,” Tendou shivers, the deep red of his iris nearly swallowed by black. His fingers aren’t idly drumming anymore, they’re digging into the wood, splintering it beneath his grip. 

Inches away from you, Semi suddenly freezes, his attention snapping downwards to focus on something near his right hand. His nose wrinkles, lip curling. “You wanna know what I liked best about the omega?” he asks, lifting his gaze back to you. “I don’t think you really believed me back at the stadium.”

You shake your head. You don’t want to know. If they aren’t here to scare you into keeping your mouth shut about Ushijima, then–

A low, husky chuckle comes from the doorway. 

“When she’d show up smelling like the sea in summer.” 

He strikes hard and fast – seizing your ankle to yank you under him. His mouth finds the soft curve where your neck meets your shoulder and he bites down. Hard. 

Agony washes you over you, chased by fire. 

Panting wildly, your body locks up, arcing against him; against the warmth that crowds you, the hard muscles that cage you, the face now tucked into the crook of your neck, licking at the bloody, oozing wound. 

He’s there inside of you, too. Buried beneath your skin, brimming with smug satisfaction. 

“Bite her and we’ll take her home to the nest. I’m not fucking her here,” he calls over his shoulder, keeping his eyes fixed on you. He pats your hair, strokes your cheek. “Little beta needs her mates, don’t you?”

“Course she does!”

You’re gasping for air that won’t come, trembling, heart beating so frantically inside your chest you worry it’ll give out.

Tendou, bounding over with puppy-like eagerness, jumps on the bed and shoves his fellow alpha out of the way. 

“A…ya,” you rasp, weakly pushing at the large body crawling atop yours. You’re not sure whether it’s a question or a plea, but you get the sense that it doesn’t actually matter either way. 

Semi rolls his eyes – you can feel the flicker of his irritation – while Tendou, pawing at your sleep tee, pushing it up and shoving his face into the soft skin revealed there only groans, huffing at your scent like he can’t get enough. 

“Pretty omega like her? She’ll have her own alphas to worry about,” Semi dismisses, a faint frown marring his pretty face as he zeros in on the bandage over your neck. 

A split second too late, you realise his intentions. 

“No, don’t–”

He rips off the gauze.

Ushijima’s bite is puffy and inflamed. Calloused fingertips drift over the edges of the wound, Semi’s eyes boring into you as you let out a low, anxious whine. As Tendou licks and nips at your chest, working his way upwards, the blond increases the pressure, digging in.

You choke on a cry, pleasure, rather than pain, flooding and overwhelming your senses, and deep in your core, the answering surge of rabid need rips through you so viciously it punches the air from your lungs–

“We don’t fucking share.”

–and you scream as Tendou’s teeth sink into the curve of your breast, claiming you one final time.

[unluckiestmember]

Mouthwashing X Innocent! Reader

Characters: Anya, Swansea, Daisuke, Curly and Jimmy

Warning: Mention of death, but outside of that, none. SFW.

A/N: Should I open up requests for Mouthwashing? I absolutely love this game so I wouldn't mind doing some headcanons here and there for it!

Anya

When it came to everyone in the Tulpar, Anya tried her best to have a strong bond with her crewmates. You were no exception. She found your presence along the spacecraft to be a breath of fresh air. She is always delighted to see you and super excited to teach you all she knows about medical practices and safety she’s read up on. When you, her and Daisuke are together on game nights, she always knows it’s going to be one of the best nights ever.

Some nights when she stays up, she appreciates your company and will even tap into her motherly instincts by laying your head on her shoulder or lap while she hums a tune to you. You are one of the only people who knew about her “incident” and jumped straight into action against Jimmy. Anya greatly appreciated it but always tries to keep you out of trouble out of fear of you getting hurt. The final days of her life were hard, but at least she can look back and confidently say that you were one of the best people she’s ever met. She hopes you two meet again in another life…

Swansea

Swamsea didn’t like you when he first met you. He thought you were another airhead like Daisuke or some quiet soul like Anya. But after a while, he came to secretly care for you like one of his children back on Earth. You are one of the only people he opens up about his family to, reminiscing on the past and revealing his inner turmoil as a father. He appreciates how you simply listen instead of overlapping him, bearing his heart to you unlike another lovable young member aboard to Tulpar.

If you love shoes, Swansea will find it easier to love you since the both of you bond over shoes of many kinds. If your shoes get ruined during the crash, he won’t hesitate to give you his own shoes so you don’t hurt your feet on loose materials. Swansea reminds you a lot of your own father, so you guess you can call him a dad away from home? He’ll act annoyed, but he secretly loved this title. He always did…

Daisuke

Let’s not lie to ourselves, when Daisuke first laid eyes on you, he wasted no time rushing to your side. In your eyes, you might’ve seen only a fellow co-worker, but for him, he saw a new friend. The both of you ended up being pals way before the Tulpar even set off into space! The members aboard the ship like to label you two as siblings, one being a chaotic brother and the other the sweet gentle sibling. A golden retriever and a puppy to say the least.

When he’s not bothering Swansea or hanging out with Anya, he’s rushing to your side to see if you want to take turns playing Pokemon on his gameboy or if you want to play dress up with his abundance of clothing. Sometimes he’ll open up about his life at home, revealing the troubles he has with his parents and how he doesn’t like to be labeled as the “rich kid on board for fun and games”. It hurts, but it helps knowing that you’re sweet enough to look past that aspect of him. Even with that axe hanging over his head, he could at least close his eyes and drift to sleep knowing that in taking this job, he met his true best friend; You.

Curly

Though the both of you didn’t spend much time together, whenever Curly was around he always tried his best to make sure you were comfortable along the Tulpar. When you two first met, he could tell you were shy and nervous about your space voyage together. So in good spirits, he opened up a dialogue of Pokemon with you, leading to not only you revealing more of yourself to him, but also attracting the rest of the team. Whenever he had cake aboard the ship, he would always sneak his slices over to you and Daisuke since he made sure to note you loved sweets.

After evaluations with Anya and others, he always made sure to treat you in some way for being such a good member of the crew. The time the both of you spent together was short, but also as sweet as commodorative cake and Curly would’ve loved to spend more time with you. Unfortunately, his chance has passed… There were so many times he wished he would have opened up to you and just. Be your friend instead of your captain… Some captain he was, right? If only he knew that even up to the end, you still cared for him…

Jimmy

If you got any requests for Arcane or X-Men '97, send them my way! Screw it, if you have Mouthwashing requests too, then throw them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[deadsnakey]

𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆 —> 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏

GENRE —> FLUFF

characters; Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise zabini, Lorenzo Berkshire, Draco Malfoy.

You've been accepted into the friend group, the longer you're with everyone the more you build bonds with each one.

Inspired by @girllblogging777

✩ You and mattheo are definitely best friends and are the closest out of the whole group.

✩ Lorenzo sees you as a little sister and you see him as an older brother, but mattheo and you radiate the most sibling energy; you both have curly hair probably, bonus if it's also brown.

✩ You and blaise study together since the rest aren't helpful or they're just a distraction…mattheo and draco specifically. At least theo isn't too distracting even if he’s bored.

✩ chaotic, certain duos or trios are worse then others.

✩ Pansy and you always do girls night together every friday or Saturday depending if someone busy or not. masks, doing nails, crafts, make up on each other, trying products out theatre weird, movie marathon with snacks, etc. its a blast and the boys always complain because that seems so fun omg????

✩ the boys love teasing the shit out of you because they think its entertaining but will back off if they realize they're taking it too far

✩ you probably teach most of them how to correctly treat a women and things not/to say and not/to do, etc. give them a little reward for becoming gentlemen to keep motivating them. (they're dogs.)

✩ they listen to you most of the time

✩ tbh if you're studying or sum that needs a lot of focus and is serious to you, they will let you work and help as much as they can if you ask for it.

✩ they are probably really protective over you.

✩ most to lease? Mattheo, Draco, Pansy, Theodore, Lorenzo, Blaise.

✩ mattheo, Draco and Pansy is the worst of it, will fight for you.

✩ Theodore and Lorenzo are more verbally abusing someone and Blaise has a sharp tongue when he wants too, he is not afraid to be an ass to someone when it comes down to it.

✩ Lorenzo and Blaise are the nicest in the group not including you. They are still assholes but more toned down.

✩ Pansy and you team up on them allllll the time and they sometimes hate it, so they do it back to you cause they're petty little shits.

✩ when you're throwing up, they'll rush over to get your hair out of your way as quickly as possible.

✩ will try their best to comfort you if they find you crying or upset or sum. Theo and Mattheo are ones who immediately pull you into their chest to protect you; holding you firmly.

✩ they all give really good hugs, but Lorenzo's are probably the best.

✩ they make sure you're eating enough, drinking enough water, not over exhausting yourself and overall just watching over you to make sure you're taking care of yourself.

✩ if they find out you're not taking care of yourself like you should be, they will constantly be on you about it to the point it starts getting annoying.

✩ anytime y'all have classes with one another they will be pestering you asking if you drunk water today and if not, "ok, here's some water now drink, love.", like they will shove food down your throat so please just take care of yourself, its not worth the annoyance and hassle.

✩ crackheads, always getting into some shit and dragging you into it unless you don't wanna be apart of it. (though they'll beg you to agree lol.)

[esote-rika]

lose some, win some | Spencer Reid Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut 18+, MDNI Summary: COLLEGE AU! When your debate team loses the national championship, you and Spencer return to your shared room and find a productive way to take out your frustrations. Content: Waldorf!Reader is a sore loser, lots of dialogue in the beginning, Sassy!Spencer, some talk of misogyny, Spencer makes up for it by being a munch (so f receiving oral), virgin!Spencer but he’s also a little shit, they are both little shits but it’s cute I swear, handjob, raw p in v but reader mentions she is on the pill, creampies, multiple orgasms for both of them (they’re frustrated and horny give them a break) Word count: 4.8k (it's porn with a plot for once) A/N: Not really frenemies or rivals, they’re just really angry young adults. Idk what Spencer’s actual age was in college, but he studied several times so for this fic, he’s on his third degree and is 21. If the debate stuff is incorrect, I'm sorry. I did do some research but there's so many different rules and styles lmfao. My friend who competes says it’s fine and understandable so :) also massive thanks to @just-call-me-by-yn @mggslover and @notlongtolove for helping me brainstorm and @wheresmacoffee because she was there JK  ILY ANDY their banter during the filthy part is for you <3.

Spencer Reid doesn’t particularly care about the prestige that comes with winning. Most people crave it for the validation, or because it’s another impressive thing they can slap onto their resumes, but being a genius his entire life allows him not to worry about that. His academics speak for themselves. He doesn’t need to pad it with extracurriculars. Instead, he enjoys the skills that are honed from debate—learning to listen to arguments, finding the perfect way to rebut, memorization and reviewing with like minded individuals. The university team is a well oiled machine composed of four people— him on his third degree, two other male juniors, and you, the only woman.

Over the span of two semesters, he’s memorized the quirks of his teammates. It’s essential to building rapport, after all, and he’s eager to get something good out of this. Something less academic, and more social. Friends, perhaps. While he’s formed a bond with the other members, you have always been an enigma. Stoic and ambitious, you remind him of a statue. Cold and oh so beautiful. You’ve often kept to yourself. And after several rejected attempts at friendship, he’s learned to just observe from afar.

He knows from experience that observing allows you deep insight into people, and so he knows after two semesters that you’re perhaps the most competitive out of the entire team, the most hungry for a win. This drive, he suspects, comes from a deeply rooted desire to prove yourself, though he’s unsure why. What else do you have to prove? You have everything, as far as he’s concerned. Keenly intelligent, beautiful, with a circle of friends that adore you. You aren’t like him, who has to sink his claws deep into this debate team in order to get a dose of social interaction. No, you have a life, no matter how marblesque you may seem.

And yet, somehow it’s still not enough for you.

He thinks it’s utterly ridiculous, and absolutely fascinating.

The weekend of nationals is taxing. You’ve been fighting for the opener role since the semis, but it would require too much adjustment, which no one is willing to risk so close to nationals. Not only does he not want to give up his spot, he also knows how ruthless you can be as a rebuttal speaker. He's meek, and you have a tendency to be aggressive, it's why the original roles go so well. 

Your adviser agreed, and there’s been tension ever since. 

To make matters worse, hotel arrangements somehow have placed both of you in the same room. The force of your resentment is palpable even to a normally clueless guy like him. Distracting. Pages being turned in your exaggerated annoyance. He’d complain of dramatics, but he doesn’t want to start anything. 

The fact that you’re rooming together also doesn’t help him. Sure, there are different beds, small twin mattresses on either side of the room, but still. Proximity to a woman his age has him anxious for reasons entirely unrelated to nationals. 

So when you lose the championship, his concern for your reaction behind doors overwhelms the regret of losing. 

No one is happy with the results. It is obvious from the set of his jaw, the tenseness of your shoulders. Spencer tries to calm down, accept defeat with a modicum of grace, at least in front of other people. He can tell the rest of the team is trying too, but quite unconvincingly. Onstage, accepting the medals for second place—mockingly silver, and no trophies—the team’s smiles are forced, plastic. 

Back to the hotel rooms are a different story. When you slam the hotel door shut, it echoes down the hall and makes even your debate adviser flinch. It would have made Spencer flinch too, if he hadn't already expected it. He's grown accustomed to how bad of a loser you can be. Like a tornado, your anger spares no one from its destruction. It is in these moments that your stoic resolve crumbles, no longer unfeeling, but rather fully human. Hurtful. Ruthless Unfortunately for him, he's directly in your line of fire.

He catches bits and pieces of your muttered diatribes. He’s used to those too. Normally, he would have ignored them. Losing sucks the energy out of a person, regardless of how uncompetitive he is. Besides, your ranting is mostly harmless, until one sentence snags his attention.

“— knew I should have been the opening speaker —”

He is clawing at his tie, trying desperately to get it off, but the words make him stop immediately. He whirls around, brows furrowed, “What?”

You pause as well, “What?”

“What did you say about being the opening speaker?” He watches you roll your eyes. It does nothing to calm the bitterness in the back of his throat. The normal song and dance goes like this: he’d say a string of words in an attempt to soothe the fire burning in your nerves, and you'd say something so vitriolic he'd refuse to speak to you for the rest of your time together. 

But today, having just lost the biggest championship after working so hard, he's a short fuse and your words are incendiary.

“I said I should have done it, like I asked—”

“Ah, as usual, you're mad that you didn't get what you wanted.” 

An offended scoff. He's almost proud he managed to pull that out of you. “You take too long—”

“Nationals isn't the time to suddenly alter the roles,” he tells you, shaking his head. He manages to loosen the tie, finally, tossing it on his bed with so much aggression it misses the mattress and lands limply on the floor, “I've always been the opening speaker.”

“Yes, and one would think that after going through so many debate competitions,  you would learn to be more succinct,” you snap, shoes making harsh clacks against the tiled floor, “The goal isn't to let us know you're the smartest person in the room, Spencer, it's to set up the tone and groundwork of—”

“I don't need you to lecture me about being the opening,” he interrupts, “I know what my role requires of me.”

“Do you?” Eyes flashing, you walk to him until you're almost chest to chest, “Because we still lost.”

“And you blaming me?” he hisses, leaning down. He hates doing this, stooping to your level of pettiness. Normally, he would choose to be the bigger person, refusing your verbal sparring; he likes to focus his energy on the actual debate, the opposing team, not his own teammates. But your words cut deeper than normal; it isn't the fault the team lost, that's just a flat out lie, “We advised you multiple times to memorize the statistics—”

“Something you're better at!” You look physically pained to admit his superiority, but the words spill anyway, “You'd be so much better to do the rebuttals since you have your stupid photographic memory, and I can set the tone better, but nobody on this little boys club ever listens to me!”

He's surprised at the choked tone your voice has taken. In his mind, you're a complete equal—you made it to the team through hard work and impeccable skills, like the rest of them did, after all. It didn't matter that you are a woman to him, so of course his instinct is to deny. “That���s not true.” but even his voice sounds weak. 

How would he know if it’s not true? He’s never been in your shoes before, never had to reckon with what comes with being the only woman in a team of men.

“Isn’t it?” he flinches at the venom in your voice, “You all act like I'm an afterthought—I get the shittiest positions even when I know I can be more effective in a different one, no one ever asks me for strategy, hell, you never invite me to your stupid chess games.”

His mouth opens and closes foolishly, latching on to the one thing he has a full response to, “I thought you hate chess.”

A sharp laugh, petulant and bitter, “I do, but it would have been nice to be included.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve turned around, yanking off your pristine maroon blazer so roughly he’s afraid it might rip. The silence that grows makes him itch, hands balling into fists as he tries to think of what to do. Social dynamics have always been a thing of mystery to him. 

He wonders if he is part of this problem. He’s no stranger to feeling different and on the outs, and it pains him to think that he inadvertently caused someone else to feel that same, unpleasant exclusion.

But, no. Quickly, he recalls every single time he’s tried to include you—a museum trip that you’d declined because you had a party you wanted to attend. His extra tickets to the Nutcracker.

“That’s not true,” his voice is firm now, following you until he’s standing right behind. Lavender hits his nose and his brain registers the scent of your shampoo. Definitely too close if he can smell that, but he refuses to back away, intent on getting his point across, “That’s not true, I’ve tried to— you were always too busy.”

“What, I’m a liar now?” you spin around, pretty features twisted to somehow express both anger and hurt. He almost falters. Almost. 

But he’s too worked up, even though he knows he should back off, to not trivialize your experiences in order to defend himself. He should know better than this, but the sting of your accusation spurs him on. So he pushes, eyes narrowing, “Last year, September 14, 21, and 29, I invited you to come with us for several casual chess tournaments, you declined all invitations because you claimed you hated chess. October 29th, I told you about the new exhibit they were displaying—”

“It was Halloween weekend, I already had plans—”

“December 19th, I offered you Nutcracker tickets and you said you’d already seen it—”

“I have,” your voice has grown quiet now, and if he stops speaking for a single moment to look, your features have relaxed into something gentler. But he’s on a roll, and you have always been right about things; his inability to be succinct is one of them.

“Even this year, I invited you to study multiple times, but you’ve always had prior plans,” the words are spoken with neutrality. He isn’t even angry anymore, just eager to list everything down and let you know how hard he’s tried with you. Even after the numerous rejections, he’s made an effort, but of course, you have other friends, other plans outside your nerdy debate team. He’s never held that against you, but if you wanted to point fingers, he has the means to defend himself. And sure, he wants to prove you wrong on some level too, but that’s the lesser point. “Maybe if you stopped acting like you’re better than me, and just accepted, you wouldn’t be feeling so excluded.”

“I don’t act like I’m better than you.”

“You just said you would have made a better opening speaker.”

You scoff, “Oh my god, you’re infuriating, I can’t believe I’m stuck with you!”

Spencer bristles at that, “I’m giving you the facts, it’s not my fault you can’t handle them.” he says, leaning closer, trying to make her see his point, “You’re always so closed off and the other guys have just given up trying. Maybe if you—”

“What? If I smiled more? Acted less like a bitch?” you sneer, eyes narrowed dangerously, “I thought a genius like you would know better than to use misogynistic language like that.”

“Wha— no! Don’t put words in my mouth.” Spencer replies, shaking his head. The conversation is devolving into something dangerous, the air crackling with something electric. He assumes it’s anger. They will never get anywhere, so he sighs, softening slightly, “I never said that. I’m just pointing out that you weren’t blameless in this, you know?”

You’re silent. He watches you, takes in how the resentment in your eyes have been dulled by something more contemplative.

He continues, “Listen, I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel like you were on the outs. I’m sure we have to do so much reflection as a team and as individuals about how we treat each other, but it’s unfair to say that we never include you when I have actively been making efforts to—”

Your lips are upon him. 

That’s inaccurate. 

You are upon him, arms flung around his neck, body pressed flush against his. He feels the entire world tilt, and he’s unsure if it’s because you’re pulling him down or because your lips are so pillowy he’s instantly eager for more. Wants it like a man starved. Needs it, needs more, but his body betrays him. Whether it’s his inexperience or surprise or a combination of both. He freezes, blinking rapidly at the sight of you. Eyes shut, and face so close to him; so, so close he can count each individual eyelash, see the tiny freckle on your eyelid that gets hidden if your eyes are open.

And then you're gone. The freckle disappears as you look at him with wide eyed mortification. 

“Shit, Spencer, I—”

It’s his lips that cut you off this time, seeking out the velvety warmth of your mouth. Your lips part under his, and he registers a sound, soft and whining. It takes him a moment to realize it came from him, from the back of his throat and muffled by your lips and tongue and oh you’re both falling.

Literally. He must have leaned too far into you; you’re suddenly collapsing, forcing him down because your arms have him in a vice grip and he’s too busy chasing after your lips. The next thing he knows is he’s on top of you and you’re sprawled on the bed beneath him. Time stands still; he’s painfully aware of how cliche that is, but every sense of eloquence seems to have been expelled from his brain as he takes you in; lips swollen and wet from his kisses, pupils blown wide. Every breath you take pushes your chest up against his, and he can feel your heart thrumming against his body. 

“Well, that was one way of shutting you up,” you chuckle with a cockiness that makes his heart speed up, though it isn’t borne out of embarrassment. Every single physiological effect of your body is evidence that you’re enjoying this, telling him you’re just as worked up as he is. The breathiness in your voice, the quickness of your heartbeat. 

The fact that you’re pulling him down again, legs hooking around his hips. He surrenders to it, lips meeting yours once again, deeper and more desperate this time.

He closes his eyes, relishing this, kissing you, touching you, an act he had believed is reserved for attractive jocks and charismatic art nerds. Not him, quiet and lanky, shifting to avoid his angular bones from digging into you, and to place himself more comfortably on the bed. Inexperienced, ungainly, and yet here he is, his tongue pushing into your mouth in his first forays into something that his peers have experienced years ago.

Spencer Reid isn’t used to being the one behind, doing the catching up. Child prodigy, genius, the words aren’t meaningless. He’s been ahead academically—which, up until this point, has been his whole life. But feeling warm lips beneath his own has him reconsidering some of his life choices. 

The kiss is messy. Sloppy from his clumsy attempts to keep up with your eagerness. You’re tugging at something, and he realizes it’s to untuck the rest of the crisp shirt you’ve donned for the debate tournament out from your skirt. His hands settle on your waist, finding smooth, heated skin from where your shirt has ridden up. Careful fingers help push it up, burying under the fabric until his palms are mapping out the slopes of your body. 

Soft. So damn soft. 

Not cold marble after all. He theorizes you must be soft everywhere, and he decides to test it out with his lips, laving kisses along your jaw, down the sweet, musky skin of your neck where your perfume still lingers. Instincts take over and he allows himself a taste, tongue darting out. You shudder, so he does it again, greedy for your pretty moans and gasps. 

He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, “Thought you were mad at me?” he mumbles, trailing his kisses down the column of your throat. 

You’re all mhms and ohhhs right now, so far from the usual image you present to the world, a preppy, manicured woman who wrestles for control over everything. You must hate this, he thinks, being beneath him physically, caged within his arms which are deceptively strong for how fragile he looks. 

“Shut up,” you grumble.

“Make me.” His grin is dopey when he lifts his head to meet her gaze.

Something brushes against his crotch, and now he’s the one gasping, jerking in surprise at the friction. You’ve slotted your thigh between his, and his traitorous body responds by grinding down on it shamelessly. The look on your face is smug, triumphant.

“Huh,” saccharine and mocking, you blink up at him innocently, “That was easier than I thought.”

His head drops to your neck again, but he isn’t kissing you anymore. Just open mouthed breathing as he rubs himself on your thigh, hands tightening on your sides, “Mhm.”

“Are you gonna come? Spencer, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He sinks his teeth into your flesh to fight the needy whines because yes, he’s so embarrassingly close and you’re both still fully dressed. He hears a hiss, and he backs off immediately, murmuring apologies, “Didn’t mean to—”

“‘S okay,” you tilt your head back, give him more access to your neck, “Just don’t leave marks.”

Permission to bite. He gulps, heart beating wildly, before ducking back down. Chapped lips run over your neck, finding a soft spot to bite, forcing himself to soften the way his teeth sink into your skin. All the while rubbing himself on your thigh because it’s probably the closest thing to heaven a man such as him will ever experience. 

He hears your laughter, your mocking cooes of, “You’re so fucking needy” but he can’t bring himself to care.

You’re correct, he decides, as you usually are. He’s needy, desperately so, eagerly chasing the delicious pleasure of dry humping your thigh. 

“Hold on, Spencer.”

You push him back gently. A whine rips from his throat, “Mhm—why?”

He gets his answer soon enough. Your hands undo his belt and he swears this sets his whole body on fire. Nobody’s ever seen him like this. Never has another person touched him so intimately, seen him so out of control, so brainless. He’s babbling incoherently as your hand strokes up and down his length, his hips rutting into your hand. It’s out of sync. Two dancers on entirely different rhythms.

Your laughter rings in his ears, one hand tangled in his hair as the other does unspeakable, tantalizing things to his aching cock. 

“Mhm, can’t— I’m gonna—” and he’s spilling into your hand, hot, viscous liquid overflowing from your hand and staining your skirt, “Ah, shit.”

He collapses against you, head on the crook of your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “‘M sorry, I’ll– I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.”

Your chest shakes as you laugh, “Would you? I think you owe me more than that.” The heat in your voice makes his breath catch in his throat.

Soft kisses press upon your neck as he gathers his thoughts, willing his brain to work again. Anatomy, female anatomy. Female pleasure. What does he know about this? A lot, surprisingly, though mostly from books. Mostly in theory, but that’s a start. He can put them to practice right now. His hands drag down your sides until they catch the waistband of your skirt. “May I?”

“Okay.”

He pulls gently, exposing the rest of your thighs and legs. Honey brown eyes devour the expanse of your skin, hands clutching at the softness. He marvels at the way your flesh accepts his own, bright red splotches imprinted from his fingertips.   

He thinks of poetry, the uncountable amount of words and phrases written to immortalize women and love and sex, and he finds himself wishing he has the skill to compose something as beautiful, something worthy of you right now, radiant and half naked and somehow all his. 

But he is no poet, so he touches his lips upon your body instead. Pretty words will escape him, but his lips can speak even without them, he’ll make sure of it. He kisses down your abdomen, making sure to pay attention to every hidden freckle and birthmark he comes across. Your reactions make him feel drunk, to the point of affecting him physically. Messier kisses. Hands tugging and nearly ripping the lace of your panties because he’s unaware of his own strength. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles, “So pretty.” It’s all he can repeat, but then his tongue lands on your slick heat and suddenly words are forgotten in favor of vague groaning. Because how can he accurately describe the sensation of this? Tasting you. God how has he gone so long without this? Your nails scraping his scalp, his fingers sinking into your thighs as he keeps you still. He’s halfway off the bed, legs dangling off the edge, your thighs squeezing his face. 

There’s nowhere else he would rather be. 

He laps at your folds like a mad man, tongue pressed flat and dragging up slowly to get as much of you in his mouth as possible. His feet find the floor, allowing himself more stability to once again rub his growing erection against a solid object. The poor mattress is going to be ruined once they’re done.

“Faster,” you gasp, jerking your hips into his face, “Spencer— oh, yeah like that!”

Spencer Reid is a quick study, and when he hears the positive reactions, he doubles down until he feels you convulse against his tongue. You jerk so violently he has to hold you down. He pushes his tongue past your entrance experimentally, and feels you tug roughly on his hair in response, gasping his name and God’s name in slurred phrases as you ride out your high.

It’s the hottest damn thing he’s ever experienced.

 “Jesus Christ,” you gasp, and he has to repeat that ridiculous sentence again, because it’s true and he feels you deserve it.

“You’re so pretty.” He fears you might be some kind of magnet, because his lips keep getting drawn back to your skin. He lets his kisses travel up your hip bone, before grinning up at you, “Even when you’re being insufferable, you’re still so beautiful.”

“Gee thanks,” you huff, pulling at his arm, “How romantic, I’m swooning.”

“Might not be swooning, but you did just come on my face.” brilliant rows of teeth flash at you as he smiles smugly.

“Asshole.”

“Is that how you say thank you?” he drags his body up lazily, draping himself over you.

“I’m not— wait, are you hard again?”

“Uh…”

“Needy, needy boy.” you pull him down to you, and he almost protests, his chin and mouth still covered with your slick. But you don’t seem to care, so he follows your lead, God at this point he would follow you anywhere at all. You’re shifting beneath him, and the next thing he knows is your legs are wrapped around his waist again, your heat completely exposed and pressing against his cock.

“Mhm,” he pulls back, eyes wide, “I—”

“What?” you whisper, lifting your head to continue giving him kisses, teeth playfully nipping at his jaw, “It’s fine, I’m on birth control.”

“It’s not that,” he can’t deny you, his body relaxing back down over you. His lips catch yours for a moment, slow and achingly tender, “I’ve just never really done this before.”

He waits for the inevitable laughter. Here he is, at 21, and somehow still the same person he had been when he first entered college at 14. But you continue to look at him with heavy lids, breathless and flushed. 

“Okay,” your voice is kind, sweet, “Take it slow then.” your hand wraps around his length again, the movement slower this time, as you align him to your entrance. He hisses as the sensitive tip grazes against your folds, as he feels your entrance slowly give way to him and envelop his cock. 

“Oh,” he sighs. With your help, he sinks halfway into you, one hand gripping your hip, the other bracing himself on his elbow. Eyes squeezed shut, he stills and manages to ask, “Are you okay?”

You don’t speak, and so he forces his eyes to focus and look at you. The sight has him twitching inside you. Mouth agape and eyes hazy, you’re nodding up at him wordlessly as your hips rock up into his. “More.”

It’s exhilarating. He’s known you for the past year, worked alongside you but respected your need for distance. And now, here you are, not merely close, but one. Spencer sighs, and thrusts shallowly, eyes zeroed in on you and your reactions. He doesn’t want to hurt you, doesn’t want it to end too soon, so he moves slowly, dragging out his cock until only the tip rests inside you, then sliding into the hilt.

It elicits the most mellifluous sounds from you, making him smile in relief. He lets his forehead rest against yours, thrusts growing more confident, but still in that slow, almost dreamy pace. He memorizes every detail of this moment, from the way your eyes flutter closed, to the quiver of your legs as they wrap tighter around his thighs. 

“So good,” he hears himself say, “God, you feel so good.”

“Mhm,” you nod, nails digging into his back, even through his clothes. In the heat of the moment, you’re both still half dressed, only getting rid of your bottom clothes in order to get what you need from each other, “More, Spencer, I need more.”

He nods, letting his thrusts grow faster, rougher. It’s an awkward angle, he’s afraid his knees will start cramping, but the feeling of being surrounded by your warmth, drowning in your moans has him reckless. “There?” he grunts, angling just so, and he can’t help the smirk on his face when he feels your walls clenching around him.

“There, there, yes!”

He’s not sure how he manages to last as long as he does. Maybe it’s the sheer desire to feel you fall apart, for his cock to be drenched in your slick that keeps his release at bay. Maybe he has too much pent up sexual energy that’s just been dying to come out. Whatever it is, he’s thankful for it, because it means he’s spending more time inside you, hips moving with so much impact he’s pushing you forward with each thrust. 

“Yes, just like that.” you’re shuddering beneath him, and he moves his arm to the top of your head, creating a barrier between you and the headboard so you don’t hit it. He could stop, readjust your positions, but he doesn’t have it in him. 

No, he wants to stay inside you, forever if there’s an anatomically feasible way to do it. But unless he invents it, he’ll settle for right now, settle for the heat between your bodies, and how you’re practically melting into the mattress, arching so prettily against him.

“You close?” he murmurs, one hand finding your clit, drawing gentle circles with his fingertips.

“No fair,” you whine, bucking into him, “That’s cheat— Spencer!” 

You come undone in the most enthralling way, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip bitten by your own lips. You squeeze and flutter around him, and he’s helpless to stop his own release, spilling deep inside you with a broken cry from his own mouth. Your name is whispered, over and over again, until he stills, his vision blurry as he collapses against you.

He curls around you, trying to get as close, “You—that was—wow.” 

You giggle, still breathless and glassy eyed, “Are you sure that was your first time?”

“Yes,” he gives you a series of kisses along your temple, “Yes, it was. You—wow.” he carefully pulls out of you, hissing quietly when the cool air conditioned air hits his sensitive flesh. “Was that enough of an apology for not including you to our chess nights?”

“You’re making jokes now?”

“No,” he smiles, leaning away to look at you, all starry eyed and boneless, “Not a joke. Because if it’s not enough, I can do it again.” a kiss to your cheek, “And again.” one on the tip of your nose, “And again.”

When you laugh in response, he cups your cheek, “I mean it.” he says with all the seriousness he can muster.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Does this mean you’ll accept my invitations now?” he lights up, a large smile splitting his face.

“Only if it’s a date.”

"Then it's a date."

[katsu28]

welcome home, little guy

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: to you, summer break means no races, no responsibilities, and all the poolside piña coladas you can drink. apparently to your boyfriend, it means bringing home a new addition to your family. (1.8k)

a/n: working on way too many things at once rn but i simply couldn't resist <3 lando puppy video u will always be famous to me

To say you’re looking forward to the summer break is an understatement. It’s the first time during the whole season you get to spend two straight weeks with Lando, doing whatever you want, whenever you want. No races, no working, nothing but relaxing with the love of your life for fourteen whole days. You can only imagine the things you’ll do, the places you’ll go. 

Truth be told, he needs this more than you do. Things have been a bit tough lately, on and off the track, so to have some time off to rest and recharge before the second half of the season will be good for him. Good for you too, so you can make sure he isn’t thinking about anything other than his well being. 

You’re buzzing with excitement at the thought of him coming home any minute now, opting to await his arrival in the comfort of your shared apartment instead of braving the swarming crowd you know for a fact is waiting for him when his jet touches down in Nice. You’re so eager you’re surprised you haven’t paced a hole in the living room carpet. You like to think you’ll kiss him stupid once you set eyes on him, though you also think you’re more likely to cry a little first. 

The beep of the front door padlock powering down pulls you out of your thoughts, and then his voice, achingly familiar and soft, “Baby? Are you home?” 

“Yeah!” You say, nearly bouncing on the balls of your feet. He appears from the hallway slowly after a few seconds, and his back is facing you, which makes you pause. “Uh…Lan? What’s happening? Why are you facing the other way?” 

“Don’t get mad at me,” He replies over his shoulder, lowering his bag onto the floor gently with one hand. 

You narrow your eyes at his back, suspicious more than anything. “Why? What’ve you—oh my god, please don’t tell me you got that tattoo you were talking about a few weeks ago.”

“Alright, relax, I didn’t get a tattoo,” He huffs. He’s still facing backwards. “Though it’s good to know how unsupportive you’ll be if I ever do get it, thanks, babe.” 

“Seriously, what is going on with you? And for fuck’s sake, love, will you please turn around?”

He spins on his heel gingerly, beaming so bright it rivals the sun. At first, you think it’s because of you, but then you catch sight of what’s most likely the reason for that big smile, and your breath catches in your chest.

The tiniest puppy you’ve ever seen sits snuggled in Lando’s arms, peering out at you with wide eyes. Dark brown fur covers its head and pointy little ears, fading into a lighter coppery color around its eyes before turning pure white at the snout and along the rest of its body. The same lighter brown spreads in a patch along its back. 

“Lando, you did not.” 

“I did.” 

“Are you serious?” 

He smiles guiltily, stepping closer with the pup. “Are you mad at me?” 

“No, I’m…just surprised, is all. How did you—when did you have time to get a dog while you were working?” 

“The team partnered with a shelter for dogs for a video to, like, bring awareness and hopefully get the pups some forever homes, and um, they brought a bunch of puppies,” Lando explains, shifting the puppy a little higher against his chest. You close the leftover gap, reaching out to let the timid pup sniff your hand a few times. “This little guy crawled right up into my lap and didn’t move the whole time we were filming, and I think we just bonded with each other immediately.”

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you?” You smile, stroking its soft fur gently. Whether you’re talking to the puppy or Lando, you’re not really sure, but either way, you’re already feeling yourself start to fall in love. 

He gazes down at the dog curled up in the crook of his elbow so fondly you’re almost jealous. You’re not, but you’ve never seen Lando look at anyone or anything with this much love in his eyes before (other than you, and maybe spring rolls). “I know we've never really talked a lot about the right time to get a dog, but I couldn’t—I knew I couldn’t not bring him home with me.” 

The pup leans forward, licking your fingertips with his little pink tongue, and your heart melts into a puddle at your feet. It’s true, you’ve had the dog conversation with Lando many times before, all of which always ended the same way. With Lando being away so much and you with your own job, bringing in a new addition to your lives would be tough to figure out. 

But as Lando transfers him into your arms, and he instantly nestles up against you like you’re his home, every excuse you’ve ever made for not getting a dog flies right out the window. You know it in your heart, this is the dog you and Lando were meant to love. 

“Hi, darling,” You say softly, lifting the pup to your eye level. He’s so small he fits comfortably in two hands, tiny black nose twitching as he cranes his neck out to sniff at you. “You really did a number on this one, huh? Made him fall in love with you?” 

Lando steps behind you, sliding his arms around your waist to bring you flush against him. He hooks his chin over your shoulder comfortably, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he gives the pup scratch under the chin. “Seems like he’s doing the same to you.” 

“Seems like it,” You hum. You bring him back against your chest and up towards Lando, who breaks into a fit of giggles as his nose gets a good few licks. 

“So…can we keep him?” 

“This isn’t going to be easy, Lan, you know that, right?” You say. He nods. “We’ve got to take him to the vet, set up sessions with a trainer, potty train him. Figure out how we’re gonna do this when you’re gone.”

“We’ll figure it out before I leave again, baby. We’ve got time,” He insists, rubbing his hands up and down your arms reassuringly. “Besides, I’ve already asked Charles and Alex for tips, they’re coming round for lunch and a chat as soon as they’re back in Monaco. And they’re bringing Leo, so who knows, maybe these two will become best friends.” 

“Look at you, planning puppy playdates already. He’s got forever with us now, you know? Let’s get him used to us and this place before we introduce him to others, dog dad.” 

Lando scoffs, but not unkindly. More amused than anything. “Well! Seems like we already know which one is going to be the mean parent out of the both of us, don’t we, Archie?” 

“That’s his name? Archie?”

“It’s the one the shelter gave him, but we can still change it if we find one we like more.”

“No, it’s perfect,” You murmur, planting a kiss atop Archie’s furry head. “Welcome home, Archie.” 

“Yeah,” Lando replies, squeezing you a little tighter. “Welcome home, little guy. We love you so much already.” 

You angle your head towards him, catching his chin with your free hand, bringing him towards you and kissing him gently. Lando all but melts into you, happily reciprocating. “Welcome home to you too, my love.” 

“Mm, I’ve missed you,” He hums, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a content, deflating sigh. “Gonna be a nice break, innit? No more grainy video chats or time differences for fourteen days, just you and me.” 

Archie lets out a whine, the first noise he’s made since Lando’s gotten home, as if to remind the both of you that he’s here too. Lando laughs, smoothing his fingers between the pup’s ears goodnaturedly. “And you too, of course, buddy.” 

You know Archie can’t understand a word either of you say, but the way he cocks his head intuitively makes you think that maybe, just maybe, he might. 

-------

You’re used to Lando being an early riser, but he always stays in bed waiting for you to wake up on his off days, ready to cuddle with you until one of you gets hungry. 

This morning, however, when you lazily reach out an arm to find him, you come up with nothing but cold sheets. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes as much as you can, you squint over at his side of the bed to see his squashed pillow and rumpled duvet, but no Lando. In your half asleep state, part of you thinks you’d just imagined him coming home with a puppy yesterday. 

But then you see the crinkly fish shaped toy on the floor in the hall as you go to find Lando, the one you’d insisted on getting on your impromptu trip to the nearest pet supply store last night despite all his huffing and puffing about it.

It’s Archie’s favorite out of all the toys you’d bought, you’d say, based on the way he’d dragged it around the living room for ages even though it was nearly the size of him. 

Lando’s laying on the floor in the middle of the kitchen when you make your way in, spread eagle on his back with said puppy standing right on his chest. As soon as he spots you, he lifts his head, grinning at you excitedly. Archie takes note of the sudden movement and barks, leaping off Lando and making a beeline straight to where you’re crouched with open hands. 

“Little traitor!” Lando grumbles, pouting as he pulls himself into a cross-legged position. “I’ve played with you for the last hour and you run away as soon as someone else comes along? Rejection is a bitter cold.” 

“Don’t be jealous, Lan. Archie just knows who his favorite is already.”

“That’s bullshit,” He scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully. He directs his next words at the pup currently enjoying a nice belly rub from you. “Remember who brought you home, Archibald Norris.” 

“Hang on, why does he get your last name? Why can’t it be mine?” 

Lando shrugs nonchalantly. “Mine’s got a better ring to it. Duh.” 

“That’s not fair, he’s my son too, he should have my last name!” 

“Fine, we’ll hyphenate. Happy?” 

Your nose scrunches, head tilting side to side in contemplation. “Mm, feels like the short end of the stick, but I’ll take it. Alright buddy, go to your dad! Go, go!” You encourage, throwing the fish toy you’d picked up towards Lando. 

“Not the fucking fish!” He yelps, but he grabs it anyway, scrambling to his feet to have Archie come after him in pursuit of his beloved toy. Archie barks up a storm as he chases Lando, tongue lolling out of his mouth, little legs moving as quick as they can. 

Sure, maybe there won't be any jet setting away on holiday during this break, but it’s fine. You haven’t seen Lando look this happy in a long time now, so you don’t care at all, really. 

In fact, as you watch Lando and Archie run around the apartment like they’ve been best buddies forever, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[wifelivvyx]

magazines - fred weasley.(fred x fem!reader)

✮ — In the burrow alone in with Fred in his room which was shared with his twin brother, you find a dirty magazine.

(handjob, teasing, smut, minors dni!)

also should i continue this story?? i dont think its that good but

You and Fred were sitting in the cluttered, mismatched room that George and Fred shared at The Burrow. The scent of old wood and faint traces of their mother's cooking filled the air. The room was cozy in a way that only a space filled with years of memories could be: posters of famous Quidditch players were pinned up haphazardly, a few stray socks lay on the floor, and a pile of half-finished experiments sat on the desk. The room felt like a reflection of Fred himself—chaotic, creative, and always just a little bit mischievous.

Fred was propped up against the headboard of his bed, tossing a small ball of parchment between his hands. You sat cross-legged at the edge, your attention fixed on the open notebook between you, filled with doodles and ideas for your wizard joke shop. The soft glow from a nearby lamp cast a warm, golden hue over the room as you both scribbled, your minds brimming with the next big prank or invention that could take the wizarding world by storm.

Though George and the rest of the Weasley family were somewhere else in the house, probably causing some sort of commotion in the kitchen or lounge room, you and Fred were content to stay in your little corner of the Burrow, brainstorming in the quiet. It was the perfect moment for brainstorming—no interruptions, just the two of you and your wild ideas.

Your hand paused mid-scribble as you glanced up at Fred, catching his eye for a split second. There was a familiar comfort in the space you shared—one that had developed over years of friendship. The dynamic had always been easy between you, starting from childhood, when you would race around the Burrow together, exploring every nook and cranny of the place. But now, there was something else, something unspoken that lingered in the air between you.

You were aware of it, and Fred—well, he seemed to be aware too. You had both noticed that your bond had changed over time, growing deeper, quieter, but still somehow more powerful. It was a silent intimacy that neither of you really spoke about, but you both felt it—especially now, sitting together like this, with the hum of the Burrow in the background, the world outside just slightly out of reach.

You sighed, obviously bored - not to mention your hand was starting to cramp from all this writing. Your eyes wandered around the room before your eyes locked onto his bedside draw. Her fingers wrapped around the draw puller. "Lets see what you have in here," She said with a grin.

"Eh, not much," Fred replied, a slight grin on his face. He knew you had always been curious about his room. "Just some potions textbooks, a few quidditch supplies, and a hidden stash of sweets. Oh, and a couple of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes prototypes that we never got around to selling."

He nudged you with his elbow playfully. "Mind you, you might have to dig a bit to find the sweets. I'm not going to make it easy for you, now, am I?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but paused when you saw something that looked.. out of place. It was some sort of magazine, hiding under loose parchment and potion textbooks. Your fingers wrap around it and pull the magazine out. "Hey, what's this?-"

Fred's eyes visibly widened and he hastily snatched it out of your hand. "Its nothing, just a boring catalog." He said, his tone rushed and slightly shaky. He quickly hid it back in its original place, letting out a loud breath that almost sounded like relief.

You eyed him suspiciously. "If its just a boring catalog, why are you hiding it?" He was now refusing to meet your eye. "It- well, you know-" He tried to stutter out, failing miserably. She tried not to snicker. "It- well- can I see it or not?" She retorted, crossing her legs as she turned to face him fully. He gave her a serious look, one you rarely see on either one of the Weasley twins. "Listen,-" As soon as he even tried to explain himself, she had swiftly snatched the book and ran to the other side of the room. You were hoping it was something that would embarrass him. She expected it to be a diary, a journal - you opened the book swiftly, only to see naked women posing in different types of positions - this was a pornography magazine.

Your cheeks flushed - you had never thought about your child best friend masturbating, you didn't even think he would be able to sneak around doing such a lewd thing without getting caught by at least one family member.

Fred had turned into a stumbling mess, unable to form words. "No, you- its not what it looks like!" Fred could feel the heat radiating from his body, and he knew you would never let him live this down. He tried to laugh nervously, hoping that maybe you'd find the whole situation amusing.

You were at a loss for words, you were incredibly flustered..

but that only lasted a few moments.

She flicked through the pages with her thumb, seeing a particular girl on her knees staring up at the camera. The page had spots of what looked like cum, which glistened the page. "Looks like you really liked this position," She turned the magazine so he could see for himself. She stared at him for a moment, seeing a tent begin to form in his pants - he looked slightly ashamed, and his cheeks were almost the same color as his hair. This was the perfect opportunity to mess with him. she slowly walked over to him, standing in front of his legs. she grabbed his knees, spreading them open so she could stand in between them.

Fred was beyond confused now, but he said nothing, his tent in his pants more obvious than earlier. She put the magazine on the bed, then sat down on her knees, looking up at him. "Does this do something to you?" She said, looking up at him. Fred's eyes widened as he took you in, his eyes travelling your position. You could now clearly see the outline of his entire dick, the head almost completely visible. "Aww," She fake pouted. "Poor baby's got a terrible erection." She made a 'tutting' sound with her mouth, then used two fingers to slide into his waist band and tug his pants down to his ankles. Fred's breath hitched as his erection bounced off his stomach. She used her thumb to wipe his tip, his pre-cum already leaking through his underwear. He let out a groan. "Shh, there's people downstairs." She teased. Most of the Weasley family was indeed just downstairs, chatting away. she drags her thumb along the tip of his cock, and she can’t help but smirk against his skin as he shudders. You slipped a hand down his trousers and into his boxers, running it along his length. His eyes were screwed shut in the sheer amount of pleasure that was washing over him as you pumped your hand up and down. He bit his lip to the point that it looked like it was going to start bleeding any second. Fred bucked his hips into her hand, letting out muffled groans. his knuckles began to turn white from how hard he’s gripping his bedsheets. She can feel his dick twitch in her hands.

She then pulls her hand out from his boxers.

He let out a gasp at the sudden loss of touch, his hips thrusting the air for a moment. Fred let out an annoyed groan. "Please-"

She couldn’t help but laugh, a mischievous glint in her eyes. The situation felt far too entertaining for her to keep a straight face. "Seriously, be quiet," she teased, her tone playful but with an edge of caution. "We don’t want anyone hearing us, do we?" A smirk curled on her lips as she let the words sink in. She relished the brief moment of tension in the air, her eyes glinting with amusement.

Then, she stood, taking her time as she made her way toward the door. Her hand brushed the cool wood of the doorframe, lingering for a second as if she was debating something, before she turned back toward him. The playful gleam in her gaze softened, replaced by a more subtle, knowing expression. "I wouldn’t stay in here too long, your family'll get suspicious." She let the words hang in the air for a beat before pushing the door open and stepping out, a confident smirk playing on her lips as she pulled it shut quietly behind her.

Descending the stairs with purpose, she felt a sense of pride swell in her chest. She could hear the sounds of conversation from below, and as she turned the corner, she saw the family in the living room. Molly and Arthur were perched on the couch, the usual warmth of their presence filling the room. George and Ginny sat on the floor in front of them, the faint sound of their laughter mixing with the creaking of the wooden floor beneath their feet.

Molly’s eyes brightened when she spotted her, and she beamed, gesturing for her to join them. "Dear! Come sit, come sit! Where's Freddie?" The question was filled with curiosity, but also the kind of innocent concern that only a mother could express.

Without missing a beat, she slid onto the couch next to George, her body language confident as she casually leaned back. "He’s still upstairs," she replied nonchalantly. "He should be coming down now." She could hear the soft creaking of the stairs from above, the sound of Freddie making his way toward them.

Fred came over, his legs looking as if they were cramped together, and his hands trying to causally look like they were comfortably placed over his crotch - he was hiding his obvious boner. He looked like such a mess - face flushed, breathing unsteadily. George looked at Fred then you suspiciously, and it seemed only him and Authur suspected anything.

[sketchtastrophee]

more old art!! featuring theo and my human harley fan design!! RUN THEODORE RUN (he's cooked)

im gonna talk about chapter 4 under here so only click if ur ok with spoilers! also its a huge yapfest. like HUUGE. i just want to voice my opinions about prototype because i've seen ppl sort of miss the point of what happened at the end of the chapter

I LOVED CHAPTER 4! IT WAS SO COOL!! i was sooo worried but im glad it turned out good. rip pianosaurus tho..

tldr (for the bunch of paragraphs where I talk abt prototype)

prototype being ollie is deranged because it means he was terrorizing the toys of safe haven on purpose for the fun of it when he could have killed them at any time. he also created an extremely close emotional bond with poppy for OVER A DECADE just to tear it all away from her at the end and tell her it was meaningless (he then proceeds to taunt her over the phone abt it). bro is LITERALLY TROLLING

you cant tell me that final scene w the "ive got something special in mind. i prepared it just for you, and this time you'll never want to leave." isnt some tom and jerry shit

ABT PROTOTYPE REVEALING HIMSELF AS OLLIE... (the long explanation)

we ALL knew he was ollie, but i don't think people are seeing the point of this reveal. it wasn't about revealing himself to us the player, it's about the implications that arise from it. he had been playing both sides for 10+ YEARS. that's deranged enough but not even CLOSE to the end of it

as ollie he had emotionally supported poppy in her lowest moments (as heard in the ollie and poppy tape). this tape also insinuates that (at least around the time it was recorded) the two of them called frequently, possibly every night. he wasn't just pretending to be everyone's ally, he was PRETENDING TO BE THEIR CLOSEST FRIEND THAT THEY COULD VENT TO 😭 he heard this poor girl sob into the phone and tell him about how she felt her humanity being taken from her, AND HE KEPT UP THE CHARADE AND COMFORTED HER, KNOWING THIS PATH HAD BAD INTENTIONS

what's worse than all of that, though, is that him being ollie means that at any time in the last 10 years he could have used the persona to force his way into safe haven. AT ANY TIME HE COULD HAVE KILLED THEM ALL. HE COULD SIMPLY USE THE OLLIE VOICE AND ASK THEM TO OPEN THE DOOR. why is this worse, you ask? because HE WAS LITERALLY TERRORIZING THEM ON PURPOSE.

think about the note in the cart/cave area. a toy from safe haven writes that prototype was right outside the door the night before, he'd gotten past the traps and was just tapping on the wall and staring. they said after he was gone they still felt they could hear it. HE IS LITERALLY BEING SCARY ON PURPOSE???? LEGIT TRAUMATIZING THEM AND FOR NO REASON. HE COULD GET IN THERE, HE'S SIMPLY CHOOSING TO MAKE THEIR LIVES HELL

so thats crazy.. BUT ALSO THE ENDING? in the poppy and ollie tape he says "im right here, poppy. for you. i'll always be here." AND AT THE END OF THE GAME, WHEN POPPY ASKS WHAT HE DID WITH OLLIE, HE SAYS THAT. you know what that means? that means he said that shit to her ALL THE TIME. clearly only the two of them would be familiar with the phrase which is why after he said it, she immediately knew he was ollie the whole time

i feel bad for poppy. she ran off but she was valid for that. all her friends from safe haven are dead, the only ones left are the player, kissy and ollie, but she soon realizes that ollie is WORSE than dead. he is LITERALLY HER ENEMY. the thousands of conversations they had, probably hundreds of times she vented and told him her plans and discussed her life with him? ALL FOR NOTHING. any time she thought she was winning the past 10 years was a lie, she was ALWAYS LOSING because he was GETTING ALL THE INFO FROM THEM. she genuinely never had a chance and i think she realized that

in her dialogue you can tell she's grieving ollie (obviously he IS prototype, but i think she's grieving the thought of him). saying "you lied to me" to the prototype of all people is absurd (considering he's done far worse than lie) but when you think about how she feels, it makes sense.

also the part where she said "this isn't right". again, a weird thing to say to him of all people, but if you put yourself in her shoes she's grieving the friend she thought she had, and she's struggling to grapple with the fact that it all meant nothing. somewhere in her mind she believes "ollie" as a personality is there somewhere, because how could someone be that close with you and mean none of it? she thinks that voicing this pain he's inflicted will change his mind, but it won't. and that's why it's genuinely really sad. that's why she asks if there was ever an ollie. i don't think she meant it literally, and i don't think his answer was literal either. she didn't mean "were you a mf named ollie once" she meant it like "was our friendship ever genuine?" which makes his response both heartbreaking and interesting.

so not only is her world shattered now, most of her friends are dead and the one who wasn't turned out to be her opp, but now he's TAUNTING HER OVER THE PHONE AND THREATENING HER. nice one... (loved the quip after she ran off btw. that shit was hilarious. like bro u made her crash out and went "some friend, huh?" YOU CANT SAY THAT BRO)

anyway think of it from her perspective: everyone you knew is gone, and soon the only 2 people that remain will be too. you can't run, or hide, or do anything. he WILL find you, and when he does he'll lock you away FOREVER where NOBODY WILL BE LEFT TO SAVE YOU. I WOULD RUN TOO.............. plus her running off probably led him away so.. she saved us sorta.

ALL THAT TO SAY THAT I REALLY LIKE THE OLLIE REVEAL FOR REASONS FAR BEYOND A SIMPLE TWIST. him being ollie for over a decade raises many many questions, and suggests very dark things.

hes crazy and the fact he did a monologue means he knows he won. he wouldn't have spilled the beans otherwise...

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Hey guys the Worms are coming back so I’m having thoughts,

tw: a/b/o dynamics, major angst no aftercare, panic attacks, past abuse, military

I love the stories where the 141 (in a/b/o context) are all alphas or a mix, but I also haven’t seen much of them being all omegas, which I think would really make sense.

Imagine it, omegas are more sensitive to their surroundings I think, with sharper instincts and reaction time imo, and they’re probably smaller than the stereotypical alpha so they can move faster. They can stay relatively calm under pressure and suppressants deal with the issue of a heat. I’ve always more imagined the 141 as four omegas, but four that stand out, and are used to criticism from people not in the military that don’t understand their team bonds.

So imagine they one day get news of a new transfer onto their team (maybe replacing soap as he’s recovering from his bullet wound HES NOT DEAD MW3 NEVER HAPPENED) and they’re not worried until they’re told it’s an alpha. An American alpha, too, if I let this get really self indulgent. Americans are loud and proud and annoying, so they fear the worst, you could throw off their team bonds, or make fun of them, or mess up their missions, etc, etc.

But in this imaginary world imagine that omegas also have more societal power than alphas, not physical power though, and you happened to be a victim of alpha-abuse. So what if the alpha that comes is shockingly quiet despite your imposing height and strength, and even looks nervous. The 141 would be absolutely ready for a brawl, I think, scents stinking up the room, only for you to stiffen as your nose stings from the potent mix of scents.

They’d observe you the entire time of the initial scenting, your stiff posture, uncomfortable behavior, and most of all the odd texture and scarring of your scent gland on your neck. Not unusual in your line of work.

After that, they made it clear you were an afterthought.

They wouldn’t let you get them food in the mess, or let you enter their shared nesting area, or even linger in Price’s office. If you covered them on a mission they’d nip at you or give you little low growls. They didn’t like the change to it, having to adjust, or just wanted to prove that they didn’t need an alpha, especially not to replace Soap.

You were trying. You knew you had to work your ass off for their respect and trust, and you were trying so hard. They didn’t seem to care.

Before they’d met you, they’d never thought that an alpha could have anything similar to a distress, nothing even close to the physical and psychological damage and pure stress someone had to be put through to reach that point. That was, until, one day when Ghost yanked you down to his scent gland to take a whiff when you ask how he covers the gunpowder from missions in his scent (spoiler: he doesn’t) and you just completely…freak out.

Shoving him away, eyes wide and looking through him, heart rate and breathing too fast. You’d absolutely booked it to your lone, sterile room that was the opposite of their cozy nest. It had taken a good hour just for Price and the rest to drag a medic and find out what the hell was wrong, only for you to be diagnosed with “Cane Baker Condition”,

“It’s, essentially, a form of PTSD related to a secondary gender, or experiences with one in a negative light. Think like a panic attack that lasts until their body is convinced they’re safe. Keep them out of bright light, away from loud noises or anything triggering for them, and give them some recognizable items from the nest, and they’ll snap out of it.”

It was then that they’d realized you had no recognizable items. Because they’d not let you even have a chance to enter their nest, and here they were now. You, lying underneath your piss poor bed in a pitch black room with one blanket in a sad mockery of a nest for comfort, getting as close to a panicked whimper that an alpha could between every breath.

Now they had to figure out how to earn your trust and respect, especially after they’d given absolutely none to you, neglected and abused you, for weeks.

should I make this a series?? (midterms are almost over so I’ll be more active soon, so far I’ve passed all of them!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

[moonstruckme]

for thawing out, i see how you've already characterized the reader as kind of the calm, even keeled one of the group and i would LOVE to just see her stand up for herself and absolutely blow up after getting pushed too far by the boys (a little mean of me to want her to go through that but-) but yes i love me a good out of character moment that kind of make the characters be like "oh shit maybe we shouldn't be acting this way-" love you babe 🫶

Hi lovely, idk if this is exactly what you had in mind but thanks sm for requesting! Love you <3

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, chronic pain, implied past abuse, hurt no comfort (for some)

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.9k words

When Remus arrives at your apartment the next morning, Sirius is already standing at the front door. His arms are crossed over his chest as he glowers in Remus’ direction, but it’s difficult to find him very intimidating when his nose is pink from the cold. 

“Oh,” he says, feeling awkward. “Hello.” 

“Hi,” Sirius replies drily. “What are you doing here?” 

Remus shrugs. Fine. If Sirius wants to be a prick (and what else is new), he can do that too. “I didn’t think you’d come. Have you knocked already?” 

“Of course I knocked,” he all but sneers. “Why would you assume I wasn’t going to be here? I said I would be.” 

“I honestly didn’t expect you’d be able to drag yourself out of bed.” 

Sirius looks ready to make a retort, but your door opens. You look surprised to see both boys on your doorstep, your smile tentative. Remus still doesn’t understand how you can do that at such an early hour. 

“Hi,” you say. Then you turn to Sirius, grin widening as you pinch the frozen tip of his nose fondly. “You made it.” 

“Obviously I made it!” The other boy’s voice takes on a wounded tone, and Remus has to tuck a smile into his scarf. Sirius must suspect, because his gaze narrows.

“How did you get this address?” he asks Remus. 

Remus feels his brow crinkle. It’s not as if he’s the one you’re in danger of. 

“He texted me last night, and I gave it to him,” you answer for him. “I sort of assumed you’d oversleep.” 

Sirius makes an indignant scoffing noise, but he appears to have nothing more to say. He seems in especially brutish form today. You’re as unphased by his moods as usual, hooking your arm through his. 

“I’m sorry to get you both up so early, but I suppose two guard dogs are even better than one.” You squeeze Sirius’ bicep affectionately, and the look you send Remus is pure sweetness. “It’s really nice of you both to come.” 

Something warm and fond blooms in Remus’ chest. Sirius mutters some disgruntled sort of assent. 

You grin. “And now, we can all buy our own drinks!” 

“Oh, fuck this then,” Sirius’ irritating pugnacious tone is back, though now it’s at least partly for show. “I didn’t realize that was part of the deal. I want out.” 

You only make an amused pffting sound, pulling him playfully against your side. 

Remus falls back to let the two of you walk alongside each other on the sidewalk. It’s odd and occasionally entertaining to watch you, so entirely familiar and at ease with each other. It’s the sort of relationship Remus hasn’t had in years, and he’s beginning to question whether he ever had a bond quite as close as yours. It’s obvious even from the outside that the pair of you know each other inside and out, and that you love each other just as deeply. But Sirius’ love is another thing entirely; the way he looks at you is almost too painful to witness. 

Remus doesn’t understand why Sirius hasn’t pursued you. He certainly prefers it this way; it makes his job considerably easier with things platonic and professional between the pair of you, but it just doesn’t add up. Sirius strikes him as the sort of cocksure prat who goes for what he wants, every time. He’s certainly arrogant enough to be sure he’ll get it, and admittedly, with his looks and devil-may-care attitude, there aren’t many people Remus can see turning him down. (They definitely should, but they likely wouldn’t.) Perhaps, after knowing him so long and working with him so closely, you’re simply too smart to get entangled with the likes of Sirius Black. 

You do eventually look back to call Remus up to join the two of you. Sirius looks irked at this, and Remus wishes he could say he was more mature, but he goes in large part because of it. You loop your other arm through his and make sure to include him in your conversation the rest of the way to the rink. 

The morning’s practice goes by with much of the same forced camaraderie. You’re friendly and receptive, Sirius is loud and irksome, but overall Remus is pleased with how things are going. You’re improving every day, to a degree Remus can’t help but admire. He can easily see you perfecting this routine by the Olympics in less than a month, which certainly defies his expectations from when he first started coaching you. Sirius is the same as always; he’s not as consistent or as controlled as Remus would like, but he doesn’t seem inclined to change and his form is (though Remus wouldn’t admit it aloud even at knifepoint) truly beautiful to watch. 

By the end, he has only one thing to say. 

“I think we need to up the ante.” 

You look up from where you’re putting on your skate guards, intrigued. “How do you mean?”

“You’re going to perfect this routine.” Remus can say that with confidence now. A nice little bonus is the way your face lights with bashful pride when he does. “You’ll get plenty of execution points from that, but if you want to really compete it wouldn’t hurt to add a higher difficulty move.” 

Sirius looks up, his gaze watchful. 

“What did you have in mind?” you ask.

“A death spiral,” says Remus. “We could fit it in during the lower-level sequence towards the end. You should be ending with more of a crescendo anyway.” 

You’re nodding. “An outside death spiral?” 

“And backwards, if you’re up for it.” 

“No way.” Sirius’ skates are already in his bag. You look over at him, bemused, but he’s looking at Remus. “You can’t fuck with the program this late. It’s only a couple of weeks before we leave.” 

Reluctantly, Remus turns to face him. His eyes are like a brewing storm. “And would you like to medal whilst you’re there?” 

“We don’t need this to medal.” 

“You don’t know what the competition will be like. You need to bring everything you can to the routine.” 

Sirius kisses his teeth. He stands, looking at Remus with barely repressed malice. “A backwards outside death spiral isn’t something you can just toss in at the last minute. We’re only just starting to manage what we have in the routine already! It’s too risky.” 

Remus fights the urge to roll his eyes. Sirius isn’t subtle; it’s clear what this is really about. “She’s going to be fine,” he says firmly, refusing to back down when the other boy's eyes narrow. “She’s perfectly capable of deciding for herself whether she wants to do this, and your feelings cannot be the deciding factor here. The death spiral is a staple of pair routines. You have to take some risks if you want to compete at this level.” 

“Oh, do you?” Sirius’ laugh is cold and dead. “Is that what you did? If it’s so fucking easy, why don’t we get out there so you can show us how it’s done?” He juts his chin towards the ice, jaw set and eyes blazing. “You can let us see how great it works out to take risks.” 

Remus doesn’t even feel the ache in his hip as he takes two quick steps towards Sirius, towering over the other boy with his blood pounding in his ears. Sirius is forced to look up, but he turns his chin up defiantly. His face hardens as he takes in a short, quick breath. 

You cram yourself between them. 

It’s like snapping back into his body. Remus stumbles back, his hip screaming at the hurried motion. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste iron, collapsing backwards onto the bench while you put yourself in front of Sirius like a human shield. Your expression is wrathful. 

“Do not do that,” you growl. You reach behind you, taking Sirius’ forearm in your grasp as though to keep him from moving. “God, why do you both have to be such dickheads to each other? We’re done here.” 

You march straight past Remus, dragging Sirius along on your other side like a dog on a leash. He looks about as shell-shocked as Remus feels. Your outburst knocked him flat on his ass, literally. It’s not that Remus didn’t think you were capable of yelling; he suspected you had fangs, but the venom came as a surprise. 

He winces when the door bangs shut behind you. They probably deserve that. He doesn’t envy Sirius, who’s likely to get a lengthy lecture from you on the walk home, but Remus does realize this could mean him losing his job. Trading petty remarks with Sirius had almost begun to feel like part of his role, but he’d never expected to make you so furious. He doesn’t know what it will mean for him that he has. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

During the entirety of Remus’ long, steamy shower, he cannot stop thinking of the look on Sirius’ face. The way his eyes had almost changed color, going from a murky gray to blue like the hottest part of a flame. He’d looked almost pleading, for half a second after Remus first brought up the death spiral, before his face hardened back into harsh stoniness. He keeps fixating on that look, that second where the dynamic between them seemed on the brink of shifting before it didn’t. But maybe it never could have. Maybe Remus imagined the whole thing; it was only half a second, anyway. 

Regardless, he feels stupid for stooping to Sirius’ level. He’s better than that, he hopes, but in the last few weeks he’s let the other boy bring out the worst in him. He decides that if you don’t fire him, he’s going to try harder to be above it. If Sirius wants to trade insults like a child, Remus can treat him like a child; with patience and a repertoire of aloof platitudes, but he won’t engage with him anymore. 

He’s put on a pair of pajama pants and is moving the waistband to hold a pack of frozen peas to his hip when there’s a knock on his door. He leans back to peer through the window, and there you are, blowing into your hands and shivering on his doorstep. 

Remus groans as he gets up. He was really hoping to have at least one night of relaxation before having to have this conversation. 

You must stop rubbing your hands together when you hear him opening the door. “Hi,” you say. 

“Hi,” Remus replies, amused despite himself. They’re having one of those odd nights where snow falls but doesn’t stick, except to you apparently. Little white flakes are tangled in your hair and dusted across your shoulders. Remus can see some between your eyelashes when you blink. You’re stiff as a board, but there’s no hiding the tiny waves of trembles that shake your frame. 

“I hope it’s okay that I didn’t call first.” Your voice is teetering on the brink of a chitter.

“Yeah, it’s alright.” Remus really shouldn’t feel so warm towards you when you’re likely here to fire (or at the very least, berate) him, but you do look terribly cold. “Would you like to come in?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” You step inside so fast he hardly has time to make room for you, and the sleeve of your coat brushes against his bare chest, making him shiver. Remus realizes then that he’s not wearing a shirt, but he decides not to care; it is his house (or his rental, at least), and you’re the one who showed up unannounced. He’s entitled to be as underdressed as he likes. 

This small bit of indignance, though founded entirely from a battle within himself, reminds Remus to be miffed with you. 

“If you’re going to ask me to apologize to Sirius,” he says, going to the kitchen to put the kettle on (he may be miffed, but he is still Welsh), “you can save it. I have no intention of getting into a row like that with him again, but I was not the one who was being unreasonable.” 

You rub your lips together, nodding. “Yeah, I agree. You shouldn’t apologize to him.” 

Remus feels his eyebrows draw together. “Okay…good. Because I’m not planning on it,” he says, just to be sure you understand. “He was completely out of line.” 

You nod again. “He was.” 

Remus finds his eyes straying to the door while he mulls over whether he’s feeling impolite enough to ask the next logical question. Then what are you doing here?

You take in a breath, letting it whoosh out of you. “I came because I want to apologize.” 

It’s impossible to keep the surprise off his face. “You?” 

“Yeah.” You rock a bit on your feet, and Remus realizes you’re still wearing your coat. Either you don’t plan to stay long, or you’re too anxious to take it off without an invitation. “I’m sorry I shouted at you earlier. It was really harsh—I mean, I was right, but I didn’t need to be cruel about it.” You glance to the side, a bit of bashfulness softening your voice. “I also shouldn’t have called you a dickhead.” 

A little chuckle escapes him. “We were being dickheads.” 

“You were,” you agree, “but I still shouldn’t have said it. I don’t want to be like that. I’m sorry, and I hope you still want to stay with us.” 

You look back at him, your expression intentionally firm but your eyes beseeching, and some part of Remus melts. He and Sirius get into fights all the time—loud ones, with shouting and name calling and absolutely no holds barred—but you snap at them once, and here you are. Having walked here by yourself in the cold because you feel bad about it. 

“Let me get your coat,” he offers.

You take your tea to the couch, where you curl up automatically on the side opposite Remus’, pulling your legs in so he can pass between you and the coffee table. Remus picks his peas back up as he sits carefully, stifling a groan. It’s a bit embarrassing to ice his hip in front of you, but the pain has become too much to ignore. 

You wince as you watch him settle them underneath his waistband. “Is that because of me?” 

He can’t very well tell you the truth when you sound so guilty. “No,” he says. “I have to do this a lot.” That part’s not a lie. 

You nod, still looking sorry. Remus is grateful when you move on quickly. 

“Just so you know,” you say, “Sirius probably won’t apologize to you either.” 

Remus almost snorts. “Yeah, I wasn’t anticipating he would.” 

You smile ruefully. “I know he probably feels bad about saying what he did—he knows he had no right—but he just gets so caught up in anger sometimes. If it helps at all, today was just an especially hard day for him. He’s always…extra on edge around this time of year. You learn not to take the things he says personally.” 

Remus studies you through narrowed eyes. He blows steam off his tea. “Does he do that to you often?” 

You shake your head. “I don’t typically goad him,” you say with no small amount of humor. Or pointedness. 

He lifts a brow. He’s already told you he won’t be apologizing for giving as good as he gets. 

You sigh, your expression going somber. “Listen, I know Sirius can get really—” you shake your head again, blowing out a breath “—really quite hot headed, but you can’t get in his face like that. His life has—well, it’s not my place to tell you about what his life has been, but even when he says things like that, you can’t act all threatening just because you’re having a spat, okay?” 

Remus feels his brow wrinkle. “Threatening?” 

Your face softens. “You looked like you were about to hit him,” you say gently. 

Something inside Remus gutters. “I did?” 

You nod, looking almost apologetic. He feels nauseous. 

“I didn’t…” 

“I don’t think you would have,” you clarify. “I’m not saying I thought you were going to hit him, I just know how Sirius works. And from his perspective, I know how it looked. You can’t do that to him.” 

“I don’t want to do that to anyone.” Remus sounds injured even to his own ears, and so he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to shut out the pained pinch of your mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after a few moments. “I really had no idea that’s how it looked. I think I got too caught up in being angry about what he said, but it won’t happen again.” 

“I know.” Your voice is gentle. You set a hand on his knee, tentative but there. “I didn’t come here to make you feel bad. It’s okay, just…now you know. For next time.” Remus opens his eyes again, and you smile wryly. “You can shout at him all you want. Don’t let him dish it out without making him take it, but just stay away from physical stuff like that, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Remus agrees hoarsely. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” You give his knee a friendly pat, leaning back against the couch cushions and sipping your tea. 

Again, Remus marvels at you. Sirius fights for you every day, whether you ask him to or not, loud and bold and relentless in his devotion to you. He wonders if Sirius knows that even when he doesn’t ask, in your own way, you go to bat for him too.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hello dear!! I have a request for the Radio Demon

Do you mind writing sub!Alastor? Imagine your in lobby of the hotel with your beloved Alastor (on his lap) and you decide to do some frisky cockwarming with him.. well in the beginning he has control but then maybe Charlie or Lucifer u walks in.. you decide to tease him until he can't take it anymore and ends up having to cover his moans as he gums in you..

Welp! That's my request🎀 you can delete this ofc but do as you will ~

from windigo anon🦌

i’m drooling, frothing at the mouth, going insane, i love this idea!!! eeeee thank you so much i hope this was good enough i struggled a bit with cockwarming so i hope i did well

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, cockwarming, SUB!Alastor/DOM!Reader, creampie, possible breeding kink, exhibitionism, Lucifer knows what you’re doing, he’s the devil, and you use him to tease Al, jealous lucifer, lucifer is a cuck lowkey, reader wears a dress but no gendered terms or anything, maybe threesome elements?, OOC ALASTOR, NOT proof read, LMK what i missed! xo

word count: 1.9K

You and Alastor have been a thing for a very long time, and throughout the years he’d become rather comfortable with sexual intimacy. Alastor always held the reigns no matter where in life he was, that is excluding the bedroom. Alastor had made a foolish deal with you long ago, he wanted your soul and you were a fairly powerful demon at the time so there was a sit down conversation about such endeavours. You agreed to sell your soul and tie yourself to him, complete all tasks he needed done, so long as he was your bitch. Well, that wording wasn’t used back then, nor was there any sexual innuendos in the mix.

Before it simply meant he couldn’t try to place fear into you, he always had to speak truthfully when it came to you, and if plan involved you, essentially to the outside world he was allowed to look like the boss but behind closed doors he wasn’t allowed to pull that stunt. You two ended up getting along quite nicely as the years went by, your magic side of the deal made it so if he broke his promises, the deal would be off and more then likely fatal to the both of you, so it wasn’t too surprising things went well.

What was surprising was the relationship you developed, Alastor was unable to lie to you about most things due to your deal and most of the time you approached him as a peer lacking judgement. Even when you disagreed with his plans you still still gave your genuine advice and thoughts which made him trust you. Slowly through this weird bond of trust and leaning on each other, Alastor developed romantic feelings and thank god you felt them back.

Alastor was slow to warm up to affections, which meant you normally took over, letting him keep his poise and smile you’d always make the first move, asking for consent to push further whether it was a simple hug, kiss, or a little more frisky. Eventually though, things got to the point they’re at now, where Alastor craves you like his lungs crave air. He is ravenous for your touch, your kiss, your head surrounding his cock. It’s a tough couple months during mating season because he begs and begs for you like a starved man.

Because of his eagerness for you, and to please you, he’s very kindly broadened his horizons leading to absolutely tasteful trying of kinks. Recently the two of you have been planted at the hotel, Alastor called upon you the day he got there, and privately when alone explained his plans with the Devils child, your man had always been an ambitious one, but you couldn’t say no to him. So of course you stood alongside his plans, and now you’re not only dealing with the Devils child, but the devil himself.

Lucifer moved himself in after the big ol’ brawl, and thankfully things have gone somewhat smoothly between Alastor and Lucifer, as in they haven’t killed each other yet, but Lucifer made it his absolute mission to try and “steal you away,” like he did with Adam. Obviously you were committed to Alastor, but your mind would wander to sinful places about all the ways you could show Lucifer how much you loved you deer man. Oh and you just knew how.

Alastor sat in the lobby, looking through a newspaper as he sipped his coffee, music humming softly in the background. The whole lobby was vacant, even Husk was gone for the moment, you made sure of it. Walking into the lobby from the kitchen, your dress flowing around your legs, you walked up to Alastor with a warm smile on your face. “What’re you up to my dear?” You ask softly, making him hum eyes shifting from his newspaper to you, dragging up your form. “Just a little bit of reading, nothing much my doe,” Alastor seemed sleepy almost in the state he was in, his voice was soft and lacking his usual enthusiasm, however it wasn’t a state you were unfamiliar with knowing him for so long.

Slowly you lowered yourself sideways onto his lap, he complied with your actions wordlessly by whisking his newspaper away with his magic, allowing you to scootch yourself right up on him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you played with the short hairs at the base, causing him to visibly shiver. Alastor smiled down at you softly, watching you tenderly. “I feel,” You whispered with a pause, mimicking somebody taking a thoughtful breath. “Needy.” You breathe out with a cheesy smile plastered on your face. Alastor jolts a bit still entirely not used to forward language such as that, but he didn’t say anything simply blinked at you.

“I think i’m gonna lift this dress up, and your gonna unbuckle these pants, and i’m gonna seat myself nice n comfy on ya,” You purred hands messaging all around his chest as you spoke, trailing down to the button of his slacks and back up to his shoulders. You felt him twitch against his pants, the blood obviously was already flowing to his groin. “Dear we’re in public.” Try as he may, Alastors words were wobbly and his smile looked more like a grimace.

“No baby, we’re in private, in our new home, at the hotel, where no one can see.” You cooed condescendingly, pulling your hands away to hike up your dress. Alastor dared to looked down as you bunched your dress at your hips. Alastor closed his eyes, head falling back at the sight of you bare, nothing but your dress skirt keeping you covered. Turning yourself around, you put your back to him, grinding yourself down on him teasingly.

“Y’know what to do, don’t make me say it dear.” Your voice was stern compared to the tone you held before, Alastor blew out air at your words, head still thrown back at rest on the back of the sofa. Finally he brought his hands from the resting position next to him, and freed himself from his slacks and boxers. You sighed happily as you slowly inched your way down on him, Alastors hands gripped your hips harshly, and his legs kicked out and spasmed every inch you took down.

Once buttoned out, you fixed your gown to flow around you, and backed yourself up against his chest, head rested on his shoulder. Brining his head up to gaze down at you, Alastor gave you a questioning look, sweat already gathering on his forehead. “Dear please-” Alastors words got caught off by a boisterous call, and the front door swinging open. Fixing his posture, Alastor snapped into position, positioning his legs up right feet on the floor, straightening his back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up with him.

“Hellloooo everybody! Just had an amazing meeting, everything went in my favour, as always.” Lucifer waltzed in swinging his cane. He briefly paused scanning the room to see only you two sitting stiffly. You were more relaxed, eyes littled with an easygoing smile, Alastor however was tense; his smile was tight and unfriendly, with his eye twitching. “Well hello there you two, lovely to see you here.” Lucifer smiled happily plopping himself on the couch next to you, making you two shake.

The small bit of motion from Lucifer throwing himself down, made you clench, your arousal leaking down Alastors cock and onto his pants. Clearing his throat to suppress a moan, Alastor then gave a tiny ‘hello’ to the devil. Turning your body more toward the devil, you made sure to pick yourself up off Alastor a bit, and lower yourself back down, making him sink his nails into you.

Wrapping one arm around Alastors neck, you leaned sideways against him, facing Lucifer, your skirt successfully obstructing the entire view of your sin. “Do tell Luce.” You urge pretending to care, Lucifer caught on to the strange behaviour immediately however he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it yet, so he pushed on shrugging and explaining his meeting. You coyly moaned occasionally throughout his explanations playing it off as “oh”s and “ah”s to his story rather than Alastors twitching cock.

Leaning forward Alastor stuck his blushing face in your hair, breathing heavily into it. “Is he doing okay?” Lucifer asked suddenly, quirking a brow at Alastor. Around your waist Alastors arms tightened, and his legs once again spread and splayed out a bit allowing him more space. Alastor felt pitiful, but in a way he loved it, only you had this power and nobody else, he could live with that. Alastor was too blitzed out to realise he’d subtly humped up into you, needing some sort of release. Playing with Alastors hair, you shrugged your shoulders at the devil, your poise still in tacked.

“Yes, I do believe he’s a little sickly.” Lucifer noticed the twitch in Alastors hips now, his eyes growing in size every so slightly. “Yknow i just want to stay something Lucifer,” You begin to say, eyeing Al from your peripheral, seeing his eyes closed. “I really think we ought to stop with the battle, Alastor treats me very well, very good,” You purr fixing your posture, making Alastor groan into your hair.

“I think it’s time to stop with the whole ‘i could take your partner’ shtick.” You say sharply, with finality, Lucifers eyes at this point were flicking back and forth between the two of you, a prominent blush on his face. You grinned cheekily once again and shifted again trying to fix yourself to face forward again, as you did so you heard Lucifer take a breath to speak, but it got interrupted by a guttural groan from Alastor.

Without warning Alastors legs flexed his hips jerking involuntarily up against you, it caught you off guard and made you gasp and moan. It didn’t stop after one thrust, Alastor sunk his teeth into your shoulder jerking his hips up into you, panting and groaning without care. With one forceful thrust and growl, you whined feeling him force himself against you fully, cumming far up into you, stealing your breath. Lucifer watched bug eyed and taken aback, he never saw Alastor so pleasured, now he felt a ping of jealousy; before this moment he wanted to steal you away to show you how much better he can fuck you compared to Alastor, now he wanted you to fuck him and make him feel the way Alastor felt now.

Alastors form grew demonic, stretching and contorting, you still in his lap. You didn’t move an inch as he contorted, not afraid of Alastor what so ever. Alastors neck snapped inhumanely to Lucifer. “You are to never speak of this again.” Alastors voice didn’t sound like his own when he spoke, and whether or not Lucifer was truly scared didn’t matter as he fumbled, stuttered and then stumbled off covering his eyes and apologising. With the snap of his fingers, Alastor magicked the two of you in the safety of his radio tower, where no one dared to enter unwelcomed. “Dear, that was unacceptable. But amusing, you get away with this little fiasco only because it was Lucifer you did it in front of.”

Alastor growled at you demonic form on display, smile stretched, he had your cheeks tightly pinched in between his nails. Shrugging your shoulders, you tiptoed up to give his teeth a coy kiss. “Whatever maybe now he’ll leave us alone.”

[avocado-writing]

i'm not a very big chain person, but in my head i can picture so perfectly Logan getting him and his s/o a matching pair of chain necklaces or bracelets to quietly express his love and commitment. because, in comparison to other forms of jewelry, chains are durable- it's hard for a quality chain to break. to him, they signify how the bond you've fostered together is unbreakable too.

if he manages to get them in adamantium, there's the added layer of gifting you something made of the same material as his skeleton. his way of gifting you a part of him, of always being with you... ;-;

He used to wake up to a pounding skull and a truly bitter hatred of the world. A constant stream of alcohol had managed to silence the first issue - or, at least, make it tomorrow Logan’s problem - but had just made the second one far worse. 

He knew he was a mean drunk. Wade never shied away from letting him know what a cunt he was when he was ten drinks deep, but it was easier to face life when he stopped trying to be gracious to it.

The world had never cared about him, so why should he care about it right back?

That was… before, though. Before you. Not exactly some sort of holy light but you’d been damn well close. Someone he’d wanted to get his act together for, try to break free from the cocoon of rot and misery he’d made for himself. 

So, nowadays, he wakes up to soft singing and the smell of frying eggs. 

You’re an earlier riser than he is, slipping out of his grasp somehow - he always tries to grab you and keep you in bed with him, despite your dramatic but insincere protests - and getting a start on your day to make the most of it. You’re so much more of a functional person than he is that it’s laughable (Wade has pointed this out a couple of times, while laughing, and you’d talked him down from giving the merc a claw through the eye). 

He drags himself to his feet and heads into the kitchen. 

The radio is on quietly and you’re half-humming along with it, trying not to be too loud so as not to wake him. You can’t help but sing and secretly it’s one of those little things he fucking loves about you. It’s how he can tell you’re happy, so he never wants you to stop. 

You hear him appear and turn with a smile so bright it outdoes the morning sun. Ahh fuck, and you look amazing. Those short pyjamas that highlight the curve of your ass, those stupid fuzzy slippers you constantly leave around the apartment for him to trip over…

… and there, around your neck and resting on your clavicle, the chain. 

He’d never been good at gifts, but he knew he wanted a way to match you. Something to look at in his own reflection to remember you’re waiting for him at home; a part of him to carry with you so you know he’ll always keep you safe. Your eyes had lit up when you’d opened the jewellery case he’d handed over, neatly wrapped by the store, and then welled with tears when he’d shown you his own one. With blunt, uncareful fingers he’d fastened the clasp at the back of your neck, breathing in the comforting smell of you when you’d wrapped your arms around him. 

“I’m so lucky to have you, Logan.”

He’s more lucky to have you. You shine in the sun and so does every adamantium link. A fucking beacon in this world for him. A lighthouse. Bringing him home. 

“Hey, baby. Sorry, did I wake you up?” you ask, turning the music off now he has your full attention. He considers this and smirks. 

“Mmm, if I say yeah, do you have to find a way to apologise?”

You grin at the huskiness of his early morning voice and the promise of what’s next, turning off the heat on the pan before inevitably forgetting and burning the eggs. As you step into his arms he knows what the rest of the morning will entail: he’ll take you back to bed and show you how much you mean to him, three or four times if he can coax it out of you, then you’ll head to the diner across the street to eat because you’ll be too boneless to do much of anything else. 

Sounds pretty fucking perfect to him. His mind flashes to the ring he has in its little box, the one he bought at the same time as the chains and keeps stuffed in one of his jacket pockets, and is sure one day soon he’ll have the courage to give that to you too. 

Taglist: @mildly-salted @belilwen @malfoys-demigod @falsewordz @tvwebs @getmeoutofhell @rush-the-stars @s1eep-o @yrthr @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @childeslegstrap

[pretzel-box]

I love you writing! Could you do something with jealous Sebastian?

A joke too much

words: 1,3k

status: non-proof read

tags: established relationship, sebastian is jealous, random nameless guy to fill in for the plot, comfort & bad diving suit jokes

sebastian might be a bit ooc but that's nothing new lol

Despite all the horrible things that had happened so far in the drastic depths of the Hadal Blackside, you were more certain than ever that hardships are easier to overcome with a group of co-workers—or, in this case, familiar victims of the expendable project that Urbanshade had set up to retrieve a simple crystal.

One of those people was a fellow inmate who shared a punishment similar to yours, which made it easier to bond over the shared misery. Their sarcastic way of lightening up every dark situation was a refreshing change of pace amid all the horrors and violence that usually surrounded your group.

"I would have worked harder on my bikini body if I knew I’d end up here," the fellow prisoner joked, gesturing to the basic diving suit Urbanshade had issued as minimal equipment. The ill-fitting suit clung awkwardly to his frame, adding a touch of absurdity to an otherwise grim situation.

"Ah yes, these diving suits definitely highlight all the right curves," you hummed back in amusement, trying to suppress a grin.

The lighthearted banter continued as you both navigated the dim, foreboding corridors. The small, wholesome moments of connection were a welcome reprieve from the relentless tension. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep the growing dread at bay, if only for a little while.

Eventually, you found yourselves standing before Sebastian's signature vent—a crude entrance that had become all too familiar. With a quick push, the piece of metal flew across the dark floor, clattering noisily. From the other side, Sebastian's disinterested voice echoed in the narrow passage.

"Welcome back, you... and you," he muttered, his tone flat as his ear fins twitched slightly, betraying his annoyance. His gaze flicked to the person next to you, clearly sizing them up. "Another day, another poor selection of team members, huh? Shame I don’t sell good ones either."

His joke, dripping with sarcasm, didn’t go unnoticed, but it didn’t have the desired effect either. You could see the faint lines of irritation on his face when he noticed your unimpressed expression. His usual wit seemed to fall flat in the current circumstances, and even he seemed to sense it.

"Really, Sebastian?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Your new companion stifled a chuckle, but you could tell they were a bit wary of the sea-serpent’s mood.

Sebastian sighed, leaning back slightly as if trying to shake off the tension. "What can I say? The company down here isn’t exactly what I’d call inspiring," he retorted, though there was a hint of resignation in his voice. He glanced between you and your new friend, his irritation giving way to something softer, almost like concern and you didn't missed the way his tail moved, showing how bothered he actually is without speaking it out loud.

“Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to send us down here with nothing but these glorified wetsuits?” Your team mate joked trying to get the comfortable atmosphere from earlier back by continuing his joke, shaking his head in disbelief. “If I knew I’d be stuck in a metal box at the bottom of the ocean, I might’ve packed something a little more comfortable.”

You chuckled, trying to ease the palpable tension. “At least you’re making it work,” you said, playfully nudging him with your foot.

Sebastian’s ear fins twitched at the sound of your laughter, and own claw-like fingers digged themself uncomfortably into his own palm. Without a care, he spoke, his voice carrying a sharp edge. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of laughing at this situation.”

Your friend raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on Sebastian’s mood. He pushed off the wall and took a step closer to you, a lighthearted smile still on his face. “Hey, we’re all just trying to make the best of it, right? No harm in keeping things a little less... bleak.”

Sebastian finally faced him directly, his eyes locking onto your friend with an intensity that made the room feel even smaller. “If you’re so focused on keeping things light, maybe you should find somewhere else to do it.”

The words were laced with a possessiveness that took both you and your friend by surprise. The room fell into a heavy silence as Sebastian’s gaze shifted to you, his expression unreadable. “Or is this how you’d rather spend your time?”

You swallowed hard, sensing the unspoken conflict. “Sebastian, we’re all stuck in this together. We don’t have to turn on each other.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stuck together, sure. But don’t pretend like this is just another day at the office. We’re not exactly a team, are we?”

Your friend cleared his throat awkwardly, realizing he was caught in the middle of something much deeper than he’d anticipated. “Look, maybe I should just... give you two some space,” he suggested, glancing between you and Sebastian.

Before you could respond, Sebastian stood up and slithered across the room, positioning himself between you and your friend, his tall frame blocking the view. “Yeah, maybe you should,” he said, his tone final, leaving no room for argument.

The air in the room was thick with tension as your friend hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Right. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later,” he mumbled before slipping out of the room by crawling back throug the vent behind him.

Once the two of you were alone, Sebastian didn’t move, standing with his back to you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You could feel the cold emanating from his body, but there was also something else—a vulnerability he rarely showed.

“Sebastian,” you started softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?”

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t turn around either. His voice was low when he finally spoke. “Because I’m tired of watching someone else take care of you when I’ve been the one keeping you alive all this time.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you suddenly understood the depth of his jealousy. It wasn’t just about the other guy—it was about everything you’d been through together, everything he’d done to protect you. He was scared of losing you, of not being enough and being replaced with someone you just met.

You stood up and stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head against his back. “I know, Sebastian. I know you’ve always been there for me. And I’m grateful for that. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as some of the tension drained from his body. Slowly, he turned in your arms, his cool hands resting on your shoulders as he looked down at you, his expression softening. “I just... I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m right here.”

Sebastian’s gaze searched yours, and after a moment, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms and tail around you in a protective embrace. The coldness of his body was no longer unsettling; instead, it was a familiar comfort.

For a while, you just stood there, holding each other in the quiet of the room, the earlier tension dissolving into a peaceful silence. Finally, Sebastian pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his breath cool against your skin. “I didn’t mean to get so... possessive.”

You smiled gently, your hands resting on his chest. “It’s okay. Just... remember that we’re in this together. Both of us.“

Sebastian nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Thank you, Sweetheart."

[coldfanbou]

On A Mission

Things are moving, and the playing field has started in this part. The ladies are going to start making their moves.

Length 3.1K

Nayeon X Mreader

Previous Part

Next Part

You wake up in the morning, feeling the soft breath of your lovers on your chest. Looking down, Momo and Jihyo rested their heads on your chest, arms wrapped around you as they peacefully slept. You look over at the nightstand and reach for your phone, checking the time. A few hours before work would start. You ease out of their grasp, trying not to wake them. You replace your body with a pillow, each woman pulling on it as they sleep. You grab your clothes and head home, leaving them a message. 

Once you’re home, you quickly shower and prepare for the day. When you arrive at Dahyun’s apartment building, you find her, Nayeon, and Jeongyeon waiting together, chatting as you arrive. “I’m surprised to see you two waiting here. Are you feeling better?” You ask, looking at Jeongyeon. 

She gives you a small smile, “Good enough to go to work.” With that, they pack into the car, and you take the usual route to work, dropping off Eunsoo at daycare first. Jeongyeon sits beside you as you begin the work day; coworkers pass by the entire day, checking in on her. You’re happy to have Jeongyeon back at work; she took a load of you, and having her presence around was generally comforting. 

As lunch came around, you found yourself in the break room with Nayeon, Jeongyeon, and Dahyun. Some light conversation happens between the four of you, but you notice Nayeon staring at you. “Do I have something on my face?” You ask her, interrupting the conversation.

“Oh, no. It’s nothing. I’m just not very good with faces, and I try to memorize people's looks,” she exclaims. You're about to question her answer, but Dahyun moves the conversation to another topic before you can say anything.

“Have any of you done karaoke before? A new place opened down the street, and I wanted to try it, but I’m scared to go alone.”

Nayeon’s eyes shoot open at the thought of karaoke, eyeing a perfect opportunity to keep the subject there. “Jeongyeon and I went to karaoke all the time with our group of friends in college.” Nayeon excitedly taps Jeongyeon’s shoulder, “We should try to get everyone together. It’s been so long since we’ve all been together.” The young woman turns to Dahyun before Jeongyeon can reply. “Dahyun, come with us. It’ll be like a big party. Jeongyeon is a great singer; you should hear her.” 

“Oh, um, sure. I’ll need a babysitter, though, so I can’t do it tonight.” Dahyun says, feeling overwhelmed by being invited to a group event. 

“We’ll get one for all the kids; that way, we don’t need to worry about it.” Nayeon says before raising her hands and cheering, “Girls night!” Her smile shines brightly, her two front teeth poking out like a bunny. You smile back, happy that they could all bond together like that. You don’t say a word about not being included, even if it did sting a little because you were right there. Nayeon continues talking, taking the lead in planning their girl's night by messaging her friends. You chuckle a little and catch Jeongyeon’s eye. She gives you a slight smile as if to say sorry about not being included. 

As your lunch ends, you return to your desk to begin the second half of the day. Before heading to her desk, though, Nayeon heads to the bathroom. She silently cursed herself; she had just learned that Jeongyeon, Dahyun, and Jihyo were competing for your affection, and she was bringing them all together. It was too late to take anything back, though; she had set a date with everyone and given the details to Jihyo, who had the babysitter take care of their babies there. She took a few minutes to compose herself, running through her conversation with Jeongyeon and figuring that they must all be on good terms if they were still talking. Nayeon took a deep breath and made her way to her desk, getting to work and finishing the day. 

As you dropped the women off at their homes at the end of the day, Jeongyeon stopped to tell you to drive her to her home. She sounded unsure of herself, and when you asked her if she was certain, she said she was. Jeongyeon knew she had to come home eventually, and though she would have preferred more time to get herself in order, she couldn’t leave her child with her husband. Once you were gone, she made her way to the front door, taking a deep breath before opening the door. Inside, she found a mess. One she could tell was from a man who didn’t know how to take care of a child; formula was spilled on the floor, milk was over the countertops, and toys were laid out on the floor. “Jeongyeon?” Her husband’s voice rang out from another room; he walked to the living room, caring little Jieun.

 “Where have you been?!” he yells, not caring about scaring the baby in his arms. “I tried calling you over and over again, and you never picked up!” The anger in his voice continues to rise, scaring Jeongyeon. 

Jeongyeon steeled herself, taking Jieun from his arms and clutching the baby to her chest. “If you’re going to yell, I’m going to walk right out that door,” Jeongyeon says, putting on a serious face. This shuts up her husband, who is unused to hearing Jeongyeon stand her ground. “You’ve been cheating on me. I-I don’t know how long it's been, but it’s clear it's been long enough that you felt comfortable talking to them about that sort of stuff when I’m around. Do you even know what I gave up for this relationship? I dreamed of being a singer but saw it as a future with you. So, I put that behind me and helped your career. I didn’t want a baby, but you did because it would make you look good. I cared for Jieun every day without your help because you said you had long nights working on big projects. I gave up my job and my dreams because I loved you.” Jeongyeon's voice becomes filled with anger as she continues, “And you decided to cheat on me?! Did I ever matter to you? Was I just some good-looking woman on your shoulder that would make you look good?” Her husband tries to speak up, but Jeongyeon continues, “Shut up! I’m talking! I’m-I’m done.” She says sternly, gulping as she speaks what she hopes will be her final words to him. “You aren’t the man I married. I don’t know if he even really existed. I’m leaving you. I want a divorce.” Jeongyeon can feel the tears welling up in her eyes but carries on. She moves past him, not letting him stop her, as she packs some of Jieun's things and gathers some of her clothes. She places everything into a single suitcase and carries it out of her room. 

He tries to talk to her, but she has none, leaving the place she once called home with her child. Jeongyeon sniffles, knowing she made the right decision by leaving him and gets on a bus. She finally lets herself shed tears as she holds Jieun to her chest. “I’m sorry, baby, it's just you and me now.” Jeongyeon climbs off the bus and walks a few blocks to Nayeon’s home. When she knocks on the door, Nayeon is quick to open it. The older woman gives Jeongyeon a supportive smile and welcomes the pair inside. She helps Jeongyeon and Jieun become accustomed to their temporary home.

----------------------------------------------

After work and dropping off the babies at Jihyo’s home, they headed straight to the karaoke place on Friday night. “Ladies, tonight we celebrate a few things. One is our first night out in a long time; the other is Jeongyeon divorcing that bastard husband!” Nayeon announces to the group as they begin their night of fun. While it shocked everyone, they raised their glasses and drank. The night was filled with music and laughter as the women enjoyed themselves, each singing songs they loved. Dahyun integrated well into the group of women, becoming fast friends with everyone. During one of the later pauses, the topic of sex came up. Momo couldn’t help but gush about her time with you and Jihyo. Dahyun released a surprised gasp and felt worry creep into her mind as every woman began to compare their experience with you. 

“Oh, Dahyun, have you been with him?” Dahyun mind became cluttered with thoughts, but one thing she knew was that she couldn’t give up. 

“I have; we’ve done it a few times.” The others give Dahyun an ovation, clapping for her and pressing her to tell some stories. A shy smile creeps onto her face, and Dahyun recounts her times with you. 

“I wonder who’s going to get him in the end.” Momo blurts out after Dahyun finishes telling her story. She laughs after, nearly spilling her drink on herself. Her statement brought questions, though, as each woman began to think of the other as competition. “I can tell you who it won’t be, though. Nayeon.” Momo’s comment brings laughter to the group; Nayeon was the only one you hadn’t had sex with. 

“Ya! It can totally be me. I’ll have sex with him tonight!” Nayeon declares. When the others laugh, she commits to it. “Don’t laugh! I’ll do it!” Nayeon shakes her friends, trying to get them to take her seriously. The situation is enough to put everyone at ease, but in the back of their heads, they realize they have to do more if they want to win your affection. They knew who had the best chance right now; it would be between Jihyo, Jeongyeon, and Dahyun. Each woman had more than a physical connection to you. Momo, Mina, might only see you as a piece of meat, but after their time with you, they weren’t too willing to have you taken away. As for Sana and Nayeon, they just felt a sense of competition after Momo’s words. 

Still, the night continued with each woman singing their heart out late into the night. Once their time was up, they headed home. Mina and Momo went to theirs, and Jihyo took Dahyun and Jeongyeon to her place to sleep off the night. Sana went her own way, leaving Nayeon, who was on her way to yours. Drunk but wholly focused on her goal, she got a taxi, barely remembering your place, and walked to your door. She pounded her fist against the door, “Ya! Open up!” When you didn’t come to the door immediately, she yelled again. You opened the door this time, yawning as she had woken you up. As soon as you opened the door, Nayeon lunged at you, wrapping her arms around you and pressing her lips against yours. You’re knocked to the floor and feel  Nayeon pull you in closer, pressing her chest against yours. “I need you to fuck me.” She moaned, grabbing your hands and placing them on her breasts. 

“Hey, hey, hold on, Nayeon!” You say, pushing her off you. You close the front door, and when you turn around, you see Nayeon stripping down, throwing her shirt onto the ground, and trying to get her pants off. You place your hands on Nayeon’s shoulders, “Nayeon, you’re drunk. I’m not having sex with you.” The drunk woman tries to shake your hands off, but you overpower her. Thinking quickly, you carry Nayeon to your room, tossing her on the bed before quickly leaving the room. You hold the door closed for a long time, finally letting go long after Nayeon’s given up.  You take a deep breath and walk to the couch, lying on it and falling asleep.

You wake up with a moan in the morning. Rubbing your eyes, you look down to see Nayeon’s lips wrapped around your cock. She’s bobbing her head, quickly taking you down her throat. Her flexible tongue swirls around your cock, as she strokes your shaft. “I told you I needed to have sex.” She mumbles, looking at you as she spits on your cock. Nayeon’s big hands move down your length, making you groan. “I’m not drunk now, so it’s not a problem,” Nayeon mutters as she moves over the top of you, lowering herself onto your face. You take a deep breath, grunting as you feel your cock hit the back of Nayeon’s throat. Nayeon pushes her cunt onto you, wanting you to eat her out. Relenting, you drag your tongue along her slit. Nayeon’s body tenses, and she moans into your cock. “That’s it, keep going.”

Nayeon teases you, grabbing your balls and giving them light squeezes as she laps at the tip of your cock. It was a far sight from the woman who was watching you fuck her friends not too long ago. You continue to lap at her cunt, going as far as to grab her ass and pull her down. Your tongue pushes inside Nayeon, making her cry out as she feels your tongue press against her walls. It was a foreign sensation to her but one that gave her immense pleasure the more she thought about it. As your fingers dig into her skin, Nayeon’s moans become louder. She arched her back and bit her lip, struggling to focus on her blowjob. She wrapped her plump lips around the head of your cock, swirling her tongue around it quickly as she moaned. She stroked your cock quickly, wanting you to cum soon.  Nayeon clenched her teeth, grimacing as she felt her core tighten before finally exploding as she climaxed. She tasted sweet, and you lapped at her cunt during her climax. Her body shuddered, and she collapsed on your body. You slide out from under Nayeon’s body and watch her chest rise and fall as she breathes heavily. You get behind Nayeon and grab her waist. “Hold on a second.”

You grab your cock and rub it against her folds. The sensation makes Nayeon whimper, and she looks over her shoulder, “If you’re going to do it, don’t tease me.” Her whimpers become louder as you continue to tease Nayeon. You push her thighs together and begin thrusting between her legs. Your cock drags along her lips, driving her crazy. “Please stop, put it in already,” she begs, grabbing your hands. “Fuck me already, give me your cock.” Nayeon’s cheeks fill with air, and she hits you with puppy eyes in an attempt to force your hand. You rub Nayeon’s ass before smacking her. She yelps and meets your gaze as you press your cock against her entrance. “Yes! Please fuck me!” You slide forward, slipping and going back between her folds. Nayeon’s heart drops, and she kicks her feet against the sofa cushion. 

You press the tip against her entrance again and push your cock inside. Nayeon smiles as she finally feels your cock slip inside her. It stretches her out and hits deep inside her. Nayeon places her head against the sofa, humming as you push more of your cock inside her. Every inch you put in stretches her a little more, and by the end, Nayeon feels completely filled. You pull out slowly, dragging out the process before ramming yourself back in. Nayeon groans as she feels your cock impale her; every thrust that follows is much the same. You stir her inside as you pound away at her body. Your bodies make a loud clap with each thrust. Nayeon keeps her head down, struggling as her core tightens again. Your consistent thrusts hit her g-spot, making her cry out as pleasure floods her body. “Fuck! Shit, I’m going to cum.” Nayeon says, gripping the cushion as she nears her climax. Her walls tighten around your cock; they rub against your cock, making you grit your teeth as you begin to speed up.

You grab Nayeon’s arms, pulling them back. Nayeon lets out a roar as she cums; her walls clamp down on your cock as you continue thrusting. The overwhelming pleasure breaks Nayeon for the moment; she begins mumbling as your thrusts continue. “C-cum inside me…” She weakly mumbles. Approaching your climax, you bury yourself inside Nayeon and unload. Your semen floods her cunt, painting her walls white as your cum makes its way to her womb. You let go of Nayeon’s arms and collapsed on top of her, pumping her full of cum. Nayeon groans as she feels the warmth of your cum spread throughout her body. 

Seeing the time you pull out of Nayeon, your cum flowing out of her sore cunt as you rush to take a shower before realizing that it was Saturday and you had the day off. You come back to the living room and notice Nayeon has barely moved, going from her stomach to her side. While you were rushing to shower, Nayeon took a picture of herself. She was covered in sweat, and her hair was a mess, but it would get the message across. She sent it to the group chat, showing the others she had fucked you. 

There’s a slight smile on her face as she pushes her stomach, and more cum flows out of her. The sight makes you hard, and you decide that you might as well fuck Nayeon while she’s still here. You walk over to the couch and move Nayeon onto her back, rubbing your cock against her folds. “I worked so hard to put that in you.”

“Maybe I want more,” Nayeon said with a smile as she spread her legs further apart. “I can see why everyone likes being fucked by you. Now let’s go again.” Nayeon said, aligning you with her entrance. 

At Jihyo’s home, the three women couldn’t help but laugh as they saw the message pop up. They glanced at each other, knowing what the goal was for each of them. “Well, ladies. We all know what we’re after.” Jihyo announced. 

“Right,” Jeongyeon followed. Dahyun remained silent; she wasn’t the most confident about her ability and knew she had to make her move. She pulled her phone out and texted the group chat, commenting on Nayeon following through with her word. It prompted the others to begin responding, chiding Nayeon for being competitive. While the others were distracted, Dahyun started messaging you, asking to meet you at a cafe. She took a deep breath and put her phone away. She wanted to secure a future with you. With Jeongyeon's divorce just beginning and Jihyo still married, she has the opportunity to lock you down. 

[httpstes]

Synastry observations/thoughts ll┊͙ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

(Overlays)

Link to synastry observations: Synastry observations l, Synastry observations lll

ღ Venus/Moon overlaying 4H

The familiar placement.

When ones Venus/Moon overlays your 4H there is a mutual level of comfortability between the two. Either partner in the relationship (or both) felt a strong almost familial connection to the other. This doesn’t mean you necessarily see each other as family but rather you both enjoy the others presence due to the fact there’s no need to hide your true selves, knowing you won’t be judged.

When I see this overlay between two people, I just know that there is an unbreakable bond, one that no one else can necessarily understand unless they were you. Whether the relationship between the person you share this overlay with is a positive one or not, this placement definitely can tell me that it’s hard to not see this person in your life, it’s hard to imagine a life without them, or that it’s hard to forget them after everything. The bond two individuals with this overlay have is remarkable. Both in good and bad, there is always a need to just have them there in your life. They’re the person that you can come back home to, the person you can call after several weeks of not being in contact, and nothing changes. No matter how far away these individuals may be from each other, or how many years it’s been, there is always some tie held between them, and when they reunite it feels as though everything has fallen back into place.

This connection can be traumatic for some, and even in those cases, you will always find yourself looking back to the moments you shared with them simply because of how much of an impact they had on you as an individual. You cant imagine how life would be without them storming into your life, because that reality doesn’t exist. They’re presence is familiar to you, you don’t have to act or be someone else, you can be your authentic self without question, and because of that comfortability, you will always find yourself being drawn back.

ღMars/Jupiter overlaying 3H/9H

Dual pursuit for academic/spiritual enlightenment

Mars overlaying the 3H can go 1 of two ways. The mars person may be attracted to the 3H person due to the 3H person's intellect, the way they communicate, their opinions and ideas etc. The Mars person may even feel energised by the way the 3H person expressed their thoughts and beliefs. Mars could believe they are extremely articulate and eloquent in the way they speak and or write but in such a way that is passionate and adrenaline-inducing for them. The 3H person here could find inspiration through the Mars person, especially if it comes to creative works (writing, art, poems, music singing etc), if not creatively then the Mars person could make the 3H individual feel more energised to get work done and to be as driven towards their goals as the ambitious mars individual. The second way this could go could actually be more of a competitive dynamic. I’ve noticed a lot of siblings have this overlay, as well as those who academically compete with their friend. This overlay definitely brings the raw competitive nature of our psyche out, and so these two individuals could get involved in heated arguments, debates often times their differing opinions and personal stances being the root and cause. The Mars person here could instead of inspiring, incite negative feelings from the 3H individual, as the 3rd houser could feel attacked by the Martian. Even if it’s not the Mars persons intention they may come off a bit too passionate for the 3rd house. The Martian could think that the 3rd houser is too all over the place and possibly too open-minded. The Mars person could view the 3rd house individual as a person with no backbone, no solidified opinions or stances (this could be especially true if it’s regarding religion of politics). This obviously could create tension in the relationship as the fierce Mars is loyal and knows where they stand in their opinions and beliefs whilst the 3H likes to wait for more lingering information to come to light.

Jupiter overlaying an individuals 9H illustrates a relationship focused on mutual growth, shared experience and understanding. Jupiter is at home in the 9th house as it’s co ruled by Sagittarius and Pisces, this allows for individuals to have a more easier connection when it comes to understanding deeper topics such as spirituality, philosophy, religion. This overlay allows for two individuals to explore and understand more difficult topics together. Most importantly it’s a placement that shows mutual learning and pursuit for experience therefore asking questions is met with acceptance regardless if the topic or question is absurd. The 9th house individual could be attracted to the optimism and faith held so strongly by the Jupiter person. This optimism is very much welcomed by the 9th house individual and can even help them when in times of doubt for pursuing something that may seem grandiose. Jupiter IS grandiose and they admire the vision or works of the 9th house individual and want to be apart of it. This pairing has the potential to work very well together in academic settings, religious or political settings. This is due to the patience and acceptance held by both parties as well as the insatiable hunger for wisdom in pursuit of truth.

ღNorth Node overlaying 12th house/8th house/4th house (water houses)

North Node overlaying any one of the water houses holds a deep profound sense of emotional connection and possible past karmic ties.

North node overlaying the 12th house indicates a mutual belief that both people feel spiritually connected to the other. This is something I've noticed in synastry and composite charts amongst best friends and lovers alike. Even if separated and no longer together, both individuals may still yearn for the same connection that somewhat felt fated, beyond our world's understanding. This connection definitely is giving platonic/romantic soulmates. On the downside, both individuals could be keeping secrets from the other, particularly the 12th house person and this can lead to a lot of miscommunication and lies. Even if the 12th house person doesn't mean it there could be this mutual understanding that the other just knows what they're feeling, however of course this doesn't play out that way all the time and can lead to strong pent-up feelings (most of the time negative) if not communicated healthily. This pair can often dream about the other and even connect in the dream realm, further pushing the belief that their connection is out of this world. I've also noticed at the beginning of the connection of this pair that there is somewhat of an addictive pull or obsessive tendency to hang out together all the time, but once this honeymoon phase ends it settles into something comfortable where now you don't have to be together all the time. There is a magnet pull here and even if you don't come into contact again (likely you both do) there is this sense of yearning for the other, even if the connection is unstable or toxic. With South Node overlaying the 6th house in a past connection/past life connection, both could have definitely been coworkers, or even a duo working hard to give their services for the benefit of others. The 6H-NN synastry shows mutual hardship and understanding for operating in a similar line of work. Both may have had to give themselves up for a greater cause and not focus much on their connection. Of course, they are bonded by mutual respect and compassion for what both work for/deal with. However, they are pushed now/this current life to focus more on themselves and their connection. As in the past/previous life,e much of their time was spent giving to others, now however they are able to learn to give back to themselves. This moves away from the service-oriented 6H to the isolated 12H. Both past and current have themes surrounding healing, just in different ways.

North Node overlaying the 8th house is still just as deep as the other houses but with less focus on the spiritual otherworldly connection. This is a synastry involving possible codependence and ties to finances depending on the other. In some cases, I've noticed one individual in this pair tends to lend their material items (whether it be money, clothes, food etc) to the other, and negative is not reciprocated. However, I've also seen where shared resources are reciprocated but I've seen this in healthier dynamics. In this connection the 8th house person may also confide a lot in the North Node individual, the NN being somewhat of a therapist lol. However, I've noticed the NN individual does not mind being vented to or helping the 8H person with their troubles and or trauma as it allows them to better understand the 8H individual and deepen the connection. NN individuals may want to learn everything they can about the 8H person. Both individuals may feel they just understand each other and don't feel the need to justify their actions. The 8H individual may have troubles with intimacy physically and or emotionally. They might struggle with opening up to others and letting their guard down. The NN individual may be one of the first to break down these barriers or allow the 8H person to heal through them. The North Node person however may be inclined to some kind of awakening (spiritual, psychological, physical etc), they are likely to be inspired by the 8H person's depth and life experience that they themselves transform and shift. With South Node in the 2nd house, much more of the financial dependence comes into play in the past/past life, themes surrounding taking the other's resources and depending on the other heavily show up. In a past connection, the 2nd house individual felt their confidence is somewhat dependent on the SN individual opinions/ideas, their self-esteem may have needed to be validated by the SN individual and this could have pressured the SN person to feel as though they're responsible for 2H individual's confidence. Both may have been deeply connected through shared values and morals, this factor being integral to their connection. With this in mind (SN-Past), they are now ready to move on and explore the depths of connection (8H) and away from the already established morals and material pursuit (2H).

North Node overlaying the 4H is somewhat similar to the Venus/moon overlaying the 4H in my opinion. This connection doesn't necessarily have to be a familial connection however that trust and bond that occurs with those you have familial connections to comes naturally with these two individuals. This is an overlay where both individuals feel very safe, especially the 4th house individual. They may feel unjudged, cared for, and nurtured by the NN individual. The house person could feel they have found a home with the other individual, however, this sentiment can go both ways. NN could remind the 4H individual of their own mother, or the mother they would've wanted. Even if it's not reminiscent of motherly love there is nurturing energy the NN exudes that allows for the 4H person to rest and feel at ease. With the South node in the 10th house, in childhood/past life, the 10H person could've been a mentor, a parent, or even a close colleague who gained a lot of respect and admiration from the SN individual. Upon first meeting, both individuals could view each other naturally on an equal level playing field, based on respect for the other.

ღAll my notes are personal observations and thoughts. I am not a professional astrologer and like to have a sense of whimsy in my life by looking at peoples charts, thankyou.

Went on a tangent during the NN/SN dynamics myb yall forgive me 🙏. Finally freed of the shackles high school had held me in. Free to do wtv now I'm back (still will post irregularly lol)

[pinkiemachine]

Alright @newtonnote ! This one’s for you!

STORYTIME!! (spoilers)

So, starting off, forming this new team was Tim’s idea. The OG Teen Titans had been drifting apart for a while, Cyborg was a member of the Justice League, and it looked as though the whole “Teen Titans” thing was gonna be shelved indefinitely until Tim came along with the idea for the old crew to form Young Justice instead, and he would reboot the TT.

Now, the first TT was not sanctioned. It was a spontaneous thing that happened more or less behind Batman’s back, but this time around, the Justice League had more of a say in the matter. Hence, all the sidekicks.

At the beginning of the NTT run, the only members are: Tim/Robin (founding member), Spoiler (invited herself), Miss Martian (Martian Manhunter volunteered her), Aqualad II (Aquaman volunteered him), and Wonder Girl II (volunteered by Wonder Woman). All the Justice Leaguers think it’ll be a good bonding and training experience for them, because they’re all a bunch of anti-social/socially awkward beans in their own ways. Tim likes the idea of leading the NTT, but soon realises he just might prefer working alone (if you want something done right, do it yourself) but he’s stuck in this situation now, so there’s not much he can do about it! XD Miss Martian is from Mars and she’s still learning all about every day teenagering, and can get very nervous about fitting in and can’t stand when she messes up. Wonder Girl (who I decided will only be called Olympia AFTER her time as Wonder Girl II) is a homeschooled girly (or, she *was* while her mother was an archeologist) but now she’s being forced out of her comfort zone and having to make friends for her stupid mental health, or whatever Wonder Woman said she had to do… meh… It’s not like she doesn’t want friends, it’s just that it’s so much work to make new ones. Then there’s Aqualad. He’s an interesting case, because no one else can seem to really understand him. He’s quiet, painfully practical, and almost emotionless. He doesn’t really do “chit chat” or “making friends.” He’s simply here following orders from Aquaman, and trying to be a “good soldier.” Steph/Spoiler is the only person keeping them all together.

The team’s first mission is in Atlantis, something super small scale that Aquaman picked out for them—almost laughably easy stuff. But while they’re in the underwater city, they happen to get their fortunes told by a fortune-teller lady. She says that someone in their team will betray them. Dun dun dun.

Not very long after that, the NTT get an alert that there’s a meteor headed straight into the ocean nearby! When they go to investigate, turns out it’s not a meteor, but a space ship. Inside, they find Kon El. He’s taken back to the Hall of Justice for questioning and other such scrutiny, but questions abound. (This happens after the Death of Superman, and Kara and Krypto are in outer space taking care some other stuff, which Batman thinks is suspicious timing.) So, without the only other Kryptonians around to verify this new guy’s legitimacy, they have to rely on his word and a DNA test for the time being. Kon-El claims that he was just one of the few lucky survivors after the end of Krypton, and when he heard that Superman was living on earth, he came as quickly as he could. Imagine his surprise when he was told that Superman was dead.

With nowhere else to go, he was allowed to stay with the NTT, as he adjusted to life on Earth. Kon-El decides to take up the secret identity name of Conner, and he decides that, if he should pass the Justice League’s tests and become a beginer superhero (which he does) then he wants to be called the next Superman. But the name doesn’t stick, and everyone winds up calling him Superboy instead, which irks him. All the while, that little prophecy the team had been told is hanging in the air.

Then—BLAM—the NTT’s first major fiasco happens! BLACK MANTA. He’s come for revenge, and to reclaim… Aqualad… his son? Dun dun dun! The backstabbing, just as it was foretold! And surprisingly, Aqualad goes with him! Now, to cut a long story short, here’s the skinny: When Aqualad (Kaldur) was a little toddler, he was present when Aquaman fought his father Black Manta, driving him away from Atlanits for a while, and accidentally killing his mother in the chaos. Aquaman felt so horrible that he decided to take Kaldur in and raise him at the palace. All the while, though, Kaldur seemed to be growing up a little… strange. Because of the shock he went into, witnessing all of that, his brain chose to react by almost shutting down all emotion. He was sleepwalking through life, too young to make sense of what had happened, and by the time he was old enough to understand, it was such a blur that he could barely remember any details. He accepted Aquaman’s hospitality, he entered the royal guard after a certain point, working his way up to becoming Aqualad, but through it all, the only reason he was doing it was because he was told to. He was told to learn to fight, because he was told he had an aptitude for it. He was told he could become Aqualad, so he accepted. And so on. But he never had any agency in those decisions. Life was happening to him. Around him. Never inside him. So when Black Manta came, telling him to leave the NTT and join him instead, Kaldur accepted.

Eventually, after a long and meaningful journey, the NTTs are able to get through to Kaldur, and essentially “wake him up.” For the first in his life, he was going to choose what he wanted to do, and what he wanted to do was protect his friends and his home from Black Manta. Double-double-cross! So Aqualad comes back to the NTT, Black Manta’s defeated, the prophecy (we presume) has come to pass, and Kaldur is actually a little excited to continue his journey with his new friends.

After that… I haven’t decided whose story is next, so we’ll leave that space blank for the moment, but I know whose story comes third! After the grande finale of (whoever, either Wonder Girl or Miss Martian) their story, there’s suddenly a time travel anomaly! A certain someone with big hair comes tumbling out of the time-stream—and it’s BART! aka IMPULSE!

So the next arc is all about Bart. He’s come back in time to warn the Justice League to prevent a horrible future from happening! One where planet Earth was invaded by an alien race called The Reach. Only problem is, not long after arriving, the Reach themselves travel back in time and try to capture Bart! They grab him, and are about to time travel back to the future, when the rest of the NTT grab onto them and stow away, sending them all beyond the Justice League’s help.

The Reach timeline is a grim existence. They invaded sneakily at first, posing as allies, but over time, they revealed their true colours. They were a nomad society, flying in one massive ship around the galaxy after their home planet was destroyed, going from planet to planet gathering resources. When they got to Earth, they discovered more than just water and minerals and crops… they discovered human beings, and their “Meta Gene.” No other known races in the universe possess this seemingly magic gene that grants superpowers, and once the Reach realised its true potential… they couldn’t just leave well enough alone. They schemed and they lied and they manipulated the human race so easily, they fell within a matter of years, and once they were in control, they started the Meta Human black market, where they would study Meta “Specimens” and/or sell them to other unsavoury alien races.

Where was the Justice League? Why didn’t they do anything? Batman was the first to suspect them, long before things turned bad. However, during his investigation, he was discovered by the Reach, and he was silenced. One by one, they found ways to lure, trick, manipulate, or just plain overpower many heroes, such as Superman and Wonder Woman, but they didn’t just kill them. No, no. Their central hubs were known as Mothercities. Entirely technofitted, entirely run by AI, entirely for the purpose of breading and raising and harvesting humans. The AI at the helm was a super advanced AI named Arcturus. The thing that made him so advanced was that he didn’t rely on normal computers for hardware and processing power. The Reach, as a whole, prefer biotech, and so what Arcturus used instead… was the human mind itself. By harvesting even a few dozen human beings, a massively powerful AI could be sustained, and the more minds you add, the bigger, badder, and faster it gets. Arcturus loooooved Batman and Wonder Woman’s minds, so full of processing power and knowledge about the planet, and the Reach were enthralled with studying Superman’s Kryptonian biology, being a member of an endangered species and all. Soon, they had built the Byway, a massive space station in Earth’s orbit, specifically for the black market’s selling and buying, and through it all, the Green Lanterns were nowhere in sight. Leaving Earth to believe they had been abandoned.

Over time, things just kept getting worse and worse. The superheroes kept on fighting, but with every victory came two losses. Then some of the Reach’s AI programs began going rampant. Some went straight up crazy, bombing as many locations as they could, or blasting themselves into space. Others changed allegences, to other countries or to the Resistance, but the most powerful—Arcturus chief among them—remained loyal to the Reach. All in all, it left Earth a tattered mess. To top it all off, Starfire, Princess of Tamaran, died trying to protect Earth, and the Tamaraneans were so livid… well… They called it “Skyfall.” A mixture of starbolts and space debris sent falling down onto the planet’s surface. Many Reach cities were destroyed… but many bases belonging to the Resistance were also hit.

Countless heroes were either harvested or killed during the years this took place over, but the few who remained made Atlantis their final stronghold. Including The Flash’s son, Don Allen, and his son, Bart Allen. Now, sadly, even though Bart was young, he was tasked with being a member of the American Meta Human Army due to the fact that he had a superpower. This would prove to be a terrible mistake, because during Skyfall, where Bart was present trying to evacuate refugees, he slipped up, and was captured by a Reach Harvester. For an entire year, he was plugged in to Arcturus’ mainframe, and boy did Arcturus love having a mind that could think so fast. He loved it so much that when Don Allen and a rescue team came to break Bart out, he swore that he would do everything in his power to get Bart back.

From that time on, Bart was not required to fight. Instead, he stayed with his father and his father’s cousin, Wally West, who were on the verge of a breakthrough. Time Travel, using the Speedforce. If this worked, they could undo everything. Fix Earth. Save their loved ones. Don and Bart were charged with the task of going back in time and warning the Justice League, but only Bart made it through. Don stayed behind to fend off a surprise attack from a group of Harvesters. Bart alone traveled to the past, where he met the New Teen Titans and the Justice League. But of course, after capturing Don Allen, a fellow speedster, the Reach were eventually able to figure out how to use the Speedforce for time travel as well, and used it to go after Bart.

Back to where we left off in the story:

Everyone was sucked into the Reach Timeline, and the NTT found themselves in a Mothercity, completely outmatched. Miss Martian and Aqualad were harvested almost instantly, Robin and Wonder Girl got caught shortly after that, and the only members who were able to escape into the lower levels of the city were Superboy, Spoiler, and Bart, who might have been able to prevent all of that from happening… if he hadn’t been so afraid. Ever since coming out of Arcturus, he’d been different, and mortally terrified of technology—any kind of technology. Now, though, if they were going to rescue their friends and get back to the present, he would need face his greatest fear one more time.

Now, I’ve thought about this story so much, and written so much down, I could go on for another 40 pages, but I’ll spare you each and every minute detail.

Yes, they rescue their friends eventually. They wind up breaking out of the Mothercity and joining the Resistance back in Atlantis. There’s a big final battle against the Reach and Arcturus—they go up into space and discover that the Green Lanterns hadn’t abandoned them, the Reach had simply been holding planet Earth hostage and forming a blockade, severely limiting what the Green Lanterns could and couldn’t do, and keeping them at arm’s length for years, though they were trying everything they could think of to save Earth. But now, things had changed. Sneaking the Green Lanterns onto the planet, the fight was finally fair, and they were about to beat Arcturus once and for all…

But then he pulled out one last dirty trick. He put his AI consciousness into a chip in Don Allen’s mind, effectively controlling him and using him to go back in time to prevent Bart from ever being rescued in the first place. The NTT chased him down through the timestream, but in the end, they realised that there was only one way to stop him. Only one way to stop a speedster. Bart looked away when it happened.

When they finally returned to the present, Bart was with them (their only means of returning to their time) and he was forced to keep living… but he couldn’t bear to remember everything. So he asked for his memories to be wiped. Thus began his new life with the NTT, as a new Bart Allen. (But those memories weren’t completely gone…)

Then begins Superboy’s arc. In the days following their little “time travel adventure,” Conner had been acting strange. He’d been disappearing a lot too. Eventually, it was discovered that Conner was secretly working with Lex Luthor. When the NTT found out, they were shocked. Conner had been a little wild and a little aggressive, but he was their friend. They told jokes, they stayed up late talking, they saved each other’s lives over and over again, and… now that his secret was out, he wanted them to know that he was sorry… but he couldn’t say no to his father. Lex.

Conner had been made in a lab, using spliced DNA from Superman and Lex Luthor. Superman’s powers + Lex Luthor’s brains. After countless failures, finally Conner was born. He was trained and “programmed” (as Lex called it) to covertly get close to the Justice League, learn their weaknesses, and ultimately be the force that brought them down from the inside. Then, Lex would frame it as though the Justice League had gone rogue, and his invention—his synthetic Heroes for Hire—had saved the day. Not only would HIS version of Superman become famous, he’d also get rich. But Conner… he was a lot more human than Lex ever gave him credit for. Ever since being born, all Conner wanted was some kind of affection from his father, but Lex made it very clear that he was not, and would never be, Conner’s father. Lex was Conner’s creator. His manufacturer. Conner was a product. Property. Nothing more. But secretly, Conner still wanted to impress him and please him, so he went along with his mission eagerly.

While he was away, he learned about Superman, his “other father.” He was crushed when he discovered he was dead, because for a moment he had thought that maybe he would be able to find a father figure in him instead… but it was not to be. Instead, he often found himself sitting alone in front of the Superman memorial statue at the Hall of Justice, talking to it for hours. Filling him in on how his life was going… imagining what it would be like to have a real dad… most of all, he told him about his new friends, and how… he didn’t want to betray them, but he didn’t want to betray Luthor more. He was sure that if he completed his mission, he’d get what he was after.

Flash forward, and the NTT were captured for discovering Conner’s secret, and the plan to take down the Justice League was in place, about to begin, and Conner looked to Luthor, hoping to hear some kind of encouragement, only to be reminded that he was just property. He did as he was told by Luthor, or he would be terminated and replaced by anther clone. But the cherry on top was when Luthor presented something to Connor. A Blue Scarab Beetle. The AI powered supersuit parasite that the Reach use to enslave their mightiest warriors. How did Luthor get his hands on this one? Conner had no idea, but the fact that Luthor wanted to use it on Conner… that was what finally convinced him that Luthor really wasn’t ever going to care about him, let alone love him. Now, thankfully the Scarab didn’t activate when presented to Conner, so that idea was a bust, but Luthor still had control over Conner with a kill-switch he could flip at any moment, so Superboy was forced to continue with the plan, fearing that there was nothing he could do. He really was nothing more than property. He was half of Lex Luthor, a villain, and he was about to do the unthinkable to his friends because of it.

That’s when Superman came back. The full story takes place with the Justice League, but there’s a crossover here. Superman comes back, totally scaring the living daylights out of Lex and foiling his plan, and in the end, he convinces Conner to join the light side by promising to protect him from anything Luthor would try to do to him. He was a good person inside, and he had people he cared about, and wanted to protect. Superman just helped bring out that side of him. When all was said and done, Luthor was defeated, and Conner’s kill-switch was destroyed. He was free to actually live. He was so excited to do all the things he thought he’d never be able to do, and to keep his friends! Most of all, he was excited to learn from his “big brother” Superman (though to himself, he still thought of Supes as a father) and he couldn’t wait to start making up for all the bad stuff he did. He didn’t care what he had to do to make things right—he was just happy he had the chance to! And of course, there was his budding relationship with Miss Martian… two awkward little alien beans…

So those are the most fleshed out stories I’ve got, but beyond that, Tim and Steph are a power couple—he’s the dark, she’s the light, he’s the calm, she’s crazy, and they’re amazing together. Wonder Girl II I’m still thoroughly exploring and learning about her character, and Miss Martian goes through a whole identity crisis as she tries to determine who she wants to be, because she’s spent her whole life trying to please other people, and be the girl they wanted her to be. Conner helps her discover herself on her journey.

I hope that wasn’t too much info… sorry if I buried you a little… but trust me…. this is the condensed version. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!