#Because one at a time is better for right now

[yumeka-sxf]

A very short new chapter this week but...wow, the preview mentioned that it's about a dream Anya had, but I wasn't expecting baby Anya right off the bat 😭

A couple things we can infer about this short scene with her mother is that 1) they're both wearing what appears to be hospital or another kind of medical facility gowns, which indicates that they were perhaps both at the lab together. Likely her mother was there first for who knows how long, and Anya was born there?

And 2) the emphasis on being able to fly like a butterfly makes me think that they're trapped there. Anya is too young at this point to understand what's happening, but her mother desires that at least Anya is able to "fly away" to a better life someday.

It's hard to tell if Anya has her mind reading ability yet, or if her mother can read minds too. We don't see any of the "sparkles" that are used as a visual cue for when Anya is mind-reading...I feel like we would have seen that in the scene below when she's looking up at her mother before hugging her. But it could just be too short of a scene to say for sure.

Some notes about the Japanese version, @spencer-is-someone and others were wondering if she calls her ママ ("mama") here as opposed to what she calls Yor, はは ("haha"), and yes, she does call her biological mother the actual word "Mama." This is consistent with the Eden interview scene too.

The first panel of the Japanese version also has this extra text on the left that reads "a precious memory from some other time..."

Something that I mentioned in my review of chapter 102 is how Endo hides the faces of certain characters in other characters' flashbacks, such as how Loid's parents' faces are hidden, as is the face of Henry's wife in Martha's flashback. In the same vein, Anya's mother's face is obscured as well.

I interpret this as the characters' suppressing the memory of the character whose face is hidden due to the emotional trauma that character elicits, a trauma that the character having the flashback is trying to overcome, whether they realize it or not. In Anya's case, it could simply be that she doesn't remember her mother's face since she was so young, but regardless, I like that Endo is being consistent with this.

Side note, it seems like the design for Anya's mother is based on Ashe, a character from one of Endo's previous works. Anya's design was based on Ashe as well, so makes sense that her mother would have a stronger resemblance.

Before the chapter ends, we're treated to "soft" Loid with the little sigh he has (the "phew" cloud in the lower right) whenever he's genuinely relaxing around the family 😊

It's interesting how the mind-reading thing from the previous chapters with Melinda is brought up...when Anya asks if Yor can read her mind, Loid looks concerned, but when Yor tells him she only knew about the potato gratin because Anya saw it on TV, he relaxed.

I kinda hope that the Melinda story continues in the next chapter, but it could be paused for now. Likely we'll be moving onto something else next time. Maybe we'll go back to the "Anya reveals her secret to Damian" thing, since school is resuming according to Loid. I am a bit surprised though that this chapter was so short despite not being called a "Short Mission" chapter. Endo could still be trying to catch up after the recent long hiatus he had due to illness. But it's fine, I'm happy with crumbs of Anya's backstory not matter how small! 😅

[cherrybr4t]

pretty boys bring you to heaven - jeon wonwoo (m)

CONTENT WARNINGS: biker bf!wonwoo, jealous wonwoo (hehe.), SMUT!, unprotected p in v, oral (f rec), praise 😇, marking up (f rec), creampie, slightly possessive wonu, overused trope but! dom!wonwoo, sub fem!reader, kitchen counter sex 😔

WC: 2k

A/N: hello..fulfilling my inner teen wattpad days with a cliche scenario & trope. but. hot jealous biker bf wonwoo. one for me pls. i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this 😔 (slightly inspired by real life events)

enjoy! <3

"sorry miss, excuse me... my friends and i were over there and we thought you were really pretty.. any chance we could get your digits?"

you were already freezing outside the izakaya restuarant, waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up. said boyfriend was about 10 minutes late from the arranged timing.

mustering up the kindest smile you could in that condition, you waved a hand politely, "no thank you, i have a boyfriend." with a curt nod, you shifted about 5 inches to the side.

expecting the guy to take his leave, he offered a cynical chuckle on that scornful face instead.

"come on, it's just your number, hm?" he inched closer, waving his phone in your face.

scoffing, you turned to him, "i'm telling you, i have a boyfriend and he's about to be here any minute now so if i were you, i would walk away,"

"well, i don't see that boyfriend of yours anywhere baby, how 'bout you stop lying—"

"turn around," your eyebrows raised at the familiar deep timbre. you gulped, knowing that you tried to give that poor guy a small warning.

"ah," the guy turned around, took one look over before shaking his head. "didn't peg you for a pretty boy kinda girl babe, oh, and pretty boy rides," he mocked after seeing the sleek black helmet wonwoo was clutching onto.

“yeah? this pretty boy right here s’bout to turn you extra pretty with this helmet right here if you don’t step away from his girlfriend,”

you looked at your boyfriend, sharp eyes daggering through the man, knowing that he meant every word. wonwoo was a rather mellow person, but when things came down to it, you’ve seen first hand how it’s never good to rub him off in the wrong way.

with the exception of yourself, of course. you could do no wrong in your simp of a boyfriend’s eyes.

you felt your insides churn at how he stepped in with such a sinister glare. lips threatening to break into a giddy smile as you were feeling so in love with your boyfriend at the moment, as well as satisfied at how the man is now avoiding his gaze, slowly backing off.

“got it dude, chill out. s’not like i can’t find another one of these bitches out there,”

something in wonwoo snapped and he lunged forward, grabbing onto the man’s shirt with his precious helmet now dropped on the pavement.

“what did you fucking say?”

you decided it was time to step in, not wanting to cause any ruckus — you just wanted the night to be over and done with and to head home, tucked in with your boyfriend.

“alright alright, wonwoo, it’s fine let it go, he’s not worth the trouble,” you tugged onto wonwoo’s shirt, hand reaching up to massage his nape, calming him down.

wonwoo’s muscles relaxed immediately at your touch, before turning over to look at you. taking a few moments before deciding to let go —which was for the better because you knew that guy stood no chance against your hapkido black belt man.

wonwoo pushed him towards the road before grabbing onto your hand, chuckling once he saw that you’ve already picked up the helmet. you shrugged, holding onto him tighter before dragging him towards his bike.

“i’m sorry baby, this wouldn’t have happened if i got here on time.. i swear the traffic lights just weren’t in my favour today,” wonwoo cupped your face gently in his hands, pecking you gently on your lips.

“stop, this isn’t your fault wonwoo.. there’re always gonna be pesky rats out and about, plus i still remember some moves you taught me,” you got into your fight stance, flailing your arms while making exaggerated ‘hah’s.

wonwoo let out a chortle, before patting down your head, “good girl, but… i can tell you’re slightly pissed, you’re calling me wonwoo and not baby,” he wraps his arms around you, lowering his face to rub his obvious pout in your face.

“gosh you’re such a baby, baby.” you kissed his pout to which he gladly welcomed and engulfed you into an open mouth kiss, tightening his grip on you.

“that’s more like it baby, now let’s go home, need to keep my pretty baby out of these dangerous streets,”

wonwoo has you up on the counter back home, between your legs as he kisses you so fervidly while his hands grip onto your waist tightly. you rake your fingers on his nape and across his scalp as you deepen the kiss, tongue entering to find his.

his deep rumble of groans as you run your nails through his scalp has you clenching and you let out a small whimper mid-kiss. he pulls apart and stares at you.

“my pretty baby, so fucking beautiful you got all these men thinking they’ve got a shot,” he groans as he peppers small kisses along your jawline.

“til they find out that you’re mine, hm? not a fucking chance,” he follows through, kissing his way down your neck, stopping at your sweet spot he knows all too well, and starts sucking lightly.

you let out a full fledged moan at this point, head tilting back – unable to control how your boyfriend makes you deranged just by a few kisses.

“wonwoo…” you whine.

“yes baby? needa mark you up all prettily so no one else dares to even make a move hm? all mine mine mine,” he goes down on the same spot, sucking harshly with a few bites before smoothing it over with his tongue. you squeak out in pleasure, loving how his tongue feels so strong yet so good against that bruised spot.

“i'm all yours baby, l-let them all know who i belong to,” you beg, wanting to feel his mouth all over your body, not wanting him to miss any spot.

wonwoo moves on to his next spot, sucking, biting and soothing. you feel so giddy, totally missing his hand creeping towards your core, until you feel him directly palming your cunt aggressively – and you realise just how soaked you are when you feel your panties stick to your cunt.

“fuuck baby, you’re soaking through your fucking pants fuck,” wonwoo pants, inner fire growing stronger seeing how you react to him marking you up. he hastily removes your pants and kicks them aside, licking his lips subtly at the sight of your drenched cunt through your thin panties.

“wo-baby, do something, please,” you grab at nothing desperately on the counter, needing him to do something to release the tension in your core that’s been growing – you feel the need to rub against air.

“yeah? whatever my pretty baby wants,” he starts rubbing on your clothed cunt, before pushing the destroyed fabric aside, fingers soaking in your juices as he plays with your folds.

his other hand grabs onto your jaw forcing you to look at him, “open up,” he whispers before taking his fingers out of your cunt to stuff them into your mouth. you moan at the taste of yourself, eyes fluttering shut.

“so fucking delicious aren’t you,”

he spreads your legs wider before ripping your panties off. getting onto his knees, he positions his face directly in front of your cunt before going in straight and kissing your growing bud.

“fuck fuck fuck,” you scream out as you feel him start to suckle on your swollen bud, before leaving kisses over your folds. he sticks his tongue out, teasing over them before going in through layers of your folds.

“wonwoo!” moaning out your boyfriends name with a cracked voice, you thrust your hips in his face, craving more.

“as always, fucking sweet and fucking delicious, god,” he moans into your cunt, looking like a starved man as he eats and laps at your cunt so ravenously.

he grabs onto your thighs, forcing them to stay apart as he continues diving deeper into your sweet cunt, that tall nose of his hitting the right spot, rubbing against your bundle of nerves at a consistent pace.

“w-wonwoo, i’m gonna cum, gonna cum, wanna cum c-can i,” you cry out, feeling the gates of your dam about to break open any time.

wonwoo looks up you, half-lidded and lustful gaze as he urges you, "cum baby, cum all over my face fuck, need you to,"

few seconds after, you grab onto wonwoo’s hair as you feel the last string break, feeling of numbness engulfing your whole as you feel all the tension pump out of you. pulling his locks as you release your juices, moaning out his name like a mantra as you came, and you feel like you've been to heaven and back.

wonwoo doesn’t stop, and continues drinking in all of you – every last drop of your release. you pushed his head away due to oversensitivity, and wonwoo stands up chuckling.

“you make the prettiest sounds when you cum for me baby, can you do it again for me?” wonwoo coos, and kisses your forehead, slowly removing the remaining articles of clothing between the both of you.

“only if i get to cum around your cock this time,” you shot back lazily, eyes still hazy and drunk on your previous orgasm, yet still greedy for wonwoo’s cock. always greedy for more of him.

“of course baby, gotta feed this pussy more of my cock and my cum to remind who it belongs to, hm?” he turns you around before bending you over the counter. you smirk, heart palpitating at being manhandled to one of your favourite positions.

wonwoo glides his hands down your spine, caressing your cheeks, playing with them before slapping his pink and bulging tip on them.

“perfect ass, perfect tits, perfect everything, my fucking perfect baby, you were made for me and only me,” wonwoo moans out, letting his tip drench in your juices along your folds.

“mm wonwoo, baby, put it in, please,” you wiggle your hips backwards, and after a few more slaps against your cunt, he finally slides his tip in, causing you to gasp and fall forward onto the counter more.

you feel your walls constrict and expand aggressively, trying to suck your boyfriends length in inch by inch desperately.

wonwoo has a hand wrapped around your waist as he slides his full length in, both of you releasing the airiest moan once feeling each other on every nerve ending.

wonwoo starts to find a rhythm, hips thrusting so deep in you feel his tip hitting your cervix so comfortably and so fully every thrust you can’t help but scream out every time his tip nudges against that spot.

“so fucking good, cunt was made for me baby, making me see stars and shit,” wonwoo rasps out, panting as he struggles to formulate a sentence without breaking into moans.

“nngh, it feels so good wonwoo, so big, s-so good,” you were mind-fucked. having his cock in you deduced your brain to having no thoughts but him. crying out for him with no other care in this world.

“my pretty baby, wanna see you cum for me again, need to feel you cum around my cock for me, can–ah fuck–can you do that for me?” with an arm around you playing with your tits, and another arm suddenly reaching towards your exposed and swollen bud, you feel all hairs stand and being the most stimulated you’ve ever been.

“argh! wonwoo.. fuck,” you wail out his name, feeling so close to that eureka moment once again as your boyfriend rubs sloppy yet tight circles around your clit.

“mm baby, its okay, just cum for me hm? come on, cum around your cock, cum for me, cum cum,”

with him voicing his encouragements right behind you, you feel your abdomen reach its tightest point, before you feel the tipping point pour over, letting the waves of ecstasy wash over you, trembling underneath your boyfriend. squeezing the life out of his cock, you hear him groan.

“good girl, fuck, so fucking good, gonna cum for you now baby,”

soon after your release, you feel wonwoo’s body lurch and fall atop yours as his cum fills you up to the brim, and you moan at the warm liquid blanketing your cunt and its walls.

wonwoo steps back to admire his cum dripping out of your swollen cunt for a good minute, before you whine out for him - needing your after-fuck hugs and kisses.

he obliges, but whispers as he nibbles on your ear lobe, "don't think i'm done with you yet baby, you've got a loooong night ahead of you,"

a/n: hit the reblog if you've enjoyed this my loves! thank you so much for reading <3 sending love and kisses to everyone!

[moonstruckme]

hai lovie!!! im not sure of youve written something like this for emt!marauders yet but could you write something where they come home from work to reader lying on the floor on the hallway due to having low blood pressure and shed tried to go get something to eat or something but had started feeling faint and had to lie down? and then when they come up to reader she starts to cry because being unwell makes her anxious (im not fussed if you dont add that last part up to you <3). i had really low blood pressure the other day and bad to lie on the floor for a good two hours and it really stressed me out :< anyway thanks lovie i hope youre doing well !!!!

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: mention of dizziness, nausea, worries about being alone when unwell and also being unwell in general

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’re half propped up with your elbow on a step when you hear the front door open. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello!” comes James’ chipper reply, followed by Sirius’ groan and the clunking of shoes as he no doubt kicks them off, beelining for the couch. After a moment of you not appearing to greet them, James asks, “Where are you?” 

“I’m—here.” You soften your voice when Sirius walks by the stairs, his step faltering as he locks eyes with you. 

His eyebrows bunch, concerned before he really knows why. “What’re you doing?” 

“I’m…” You shrug limply, trying on a helpless smile. Tears threaten to spill over from the way your eyes squish up. “I don’t feel right.” 

Sirius has only taken his first, slow step toward you, bemusement written across his features, before James and Remus are behind him at the base of the stairs. 

“Oh. Hi, angel.” James’ voice matches his expression, all gentleness, and worry hidden beneath counterfeit cheer. “Having a little lie down?” 

“Yeah,” you say. Sirius’ touch is a relief as he reaches you. He cups your face and feels your forehead, brows stitched together. You’re happy to be in capable hands. “I started to fall, so I just laid down here. I’m a bit dizzy.” 

There’s only so many of you that can fit on the stairs. James makes it to you next, crouching beside Sirius to take your hand in his and press his fingers to your pulse, so Remus is left peering over them both. He frowns, looking conflicted about his inability to help and worried in general. You try another smile for his sake; unfortunately, this time, the tears do spill. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” Sirius says, no real chiding in his tone as he knuckles them from your cheeks. 

“Sorry.” You force yourself to breathe, but new ones come anyway. It’s a slow sort of cry, the result of a good long while feeling sorry for yourself. “I just, I felt sick, so I tried to go upstairs to the toilet, but then I started to faint and I didn’t think I could make it back down to my phone, and I didn’t know when you would be home, or if anyone would find me…” 

“We’re here now, though, sweetheart,” Remus stops you gently. “It all worked out alright. You’re okay.” 

“Yeah.” You wipe underneath your eyes. “I think my blood pressure just dropped all of a sudden or something, but I still feel weird. It was scary.” 

“I think you’re right,” James says. He runs his thumb over your wrist. “I mean, I’d like to think it’s just because we’re home and you’re pleased to see us, but your heart’s going pretty fast, m’love. How long ago did you lie down here?” 

“I don’t know,” you reply, sniffling, feeling silly. “I don’t have my phone. Less than an hour, I think.” 

Remus hums. “That’s still a long while.” 

Honestly, you feel better just having your boyfriends here with you. Partly because of the security, of course, that you know you won’t faint and hit your head with no one to help you, but also, perhaps, there’s a small part of you that enjoys their fussing. The concerned set of Sirius’ brow, the way Remus’ mouth puckers thoughtfully, how James keeps rubbing his thumb over your wrist like he can soothe your heart back into its regular rhythm. 

“Well, then.” Sirius pats your hip, rising from his crouch. “Not much point in figuring it all out here, is there? C’mon, pretty girl, that step has to be killing your side.” 

It’s true; you think the edge of the step probably leaves an indent in your waist after you let Sirius haul you up, supporting you down the stairs and over to the couch. 

“I don’t feel as dizzy as I was expecting,” you admit. “Maybe I was overreacting.” 

“You?” Sirius exclaims, feigning astoundment. 

“Better to be safe,” says Remus. He claims a spot next to you quickly, as though seizing his opportunity. It makes your lips tug. “I’m glad you were careful, love.” 

You lean your head on his shoulder in a silent plea for coddling; he appeases you, pressing his lips to your hair while Sirius pinches the skin of your forearm gently. You watch him with mild interest. 

“When was the last time you drank water?” he asks. 

“Um…” You think back. 

Sirius lets go of your skin and tuts. “Yeah, seems like it’s been long enough for you not to remember.” 

“On it,” James announces, coming back from the kitchen with a large glass of water. He passes it to you over the back of the couch, and it’s so full a tiny bit spills over the rim onto your wrist, making you shiver. “It’s more common than you’d think for dehydration to do that to you. Gotta be careful.” 

“Yes,” says Remus drily, though his arm comes around your shoulders. “Rather easily avoidable.” 

You shrink, mumbling, “Sorry,” into your glass. 

James awws and bends over the back of the couch to plant a kiss on your head, his good cheer restored, genuinely now. “We all forget sometimes, lovie.” 

“Don’t enable her,” Sirius tells him. He cradles your arm in his hand, stroking the skin he’d pinched as though in apology for his treatment of it. “Don’t listen to him. It’s a grave oversight and you must repent forever.” 

“Forever?” Your smile still feels weak, but you’re coming back to yourself some. “How will I do that?” 

“Mm,” Sirius takes to kissing your arm instead, mumbling with a sternness that borders upon silly, “start with filling your water bottle every day before leaving the house, and at least three times after that.” 

You go quiet, gaze sliding to Remus skeptically. 

He raises an eyebrow. “What?” 

“Is that…really how much I’m supposed to have?”

His other eyebrow lifts, too. “Yes.” 

“Every day?” 

“Yes.” Remus laughs, exasperated. “Yes, that’s the water intake your body needs.” 

“There’s no way everyone’s doing that.” 

“They’re not,” James agrees. “Instead, everyone is getting dizzy and calling us so we can go pick them up from halfway up the stairs.” 

You bring the glass back to your lips, muttering, “I didn’t call, you just found me.” 

James kisses your head again, fiercely. “And we always will, lucky girl.”

[lazysoulwriter]

Soft for You - Rafe Cameron!

requests are still open! - 💌

“For the last time, Rafe is not going to kill me.”

The words leave your mouth so naturally, like it’s a daily routine at this point. Your friends just give you that same look—half amusement, half concern—and shake their heads.

“Okay, but if you end up missing, we’re not gonna be surprised,” JJ says, leaning back against the couch.

“Not funny.” You cross your arms.

“I mean,” Kie shrugs, “He has a reputation, you know?”

“A reputation that doesn’t apply to me,” you insist. “He’s different when it’s just us.”

Pope lets out a chuckle. “Sure, sure. An angel, right?”

“Exactly,” you say, unfazed. “He’s my angel.”

It’s a quiet afternoon at Rafe’s house, the kind you love the most. With his dad gone and Sarah never around, it’s practically yours and his now—a big, empty house just for the two of you.

You’re curled up on the couch when he walks in, shirt slightly unbuttoned, hair still damp from his shower. His face softens immediately when he sees you.

“Babyyy,” he hums, making his way over.

You giggle, pulling him down beside you. “Rafe, don’t call me that in that voice.”

“What voice?” he teases, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“That baby voice,” you laugh.

“But you love it,” he grins, kissing your cheek.

And you do. As much as you pretend to hate it, the way he softens around you, the way his voice gets all sweet and playful, makes your heart flutter every time.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, pulling you onto his lap.

“You saw me this morning,” you remind him.

“Doesn’t matter. Missed you anyway.”

You melt against him, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his jaw. His arms wrap around you tightly, like he never wants to let go. You kiss him, slow and sweet, feeling him smile against your lips.

“How do you always do this to me?” he whispers.

“Do what?”

“Make me wanna be soft,” he says, resting his forehead against yours.

You giggle, cupping his face. “Maybe because you are soft. For me, at least.”

He sighs, pressing another lingering kiss to your lips.

The afternoon passes in a blur of whispered words and shared smiles. You end up sprawled across his bed, legs tangled together, your head resting on his chest. He traces slow, absentminded patterns on your arm, his other hand playing with your hair.

“You make me wanna be better,” he murmurs.

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze. “You already are.”

He scoffs playfully. “Tell that to literally anyone else.”

You grin. “Oh, I do. But no one believes me.”

Rafe chuckles, shifting so he can look at you better. “Maybe because they only see one side of me.”

“Then they don’t know the real you,” you say simply, running a hand down his chest.

He hums in thought before pulling you closer. “I don’t care what they think. As long as you know.”

“I do,” you assure him. “And I love you for it.”

His breath hitches slightly, but then he’s smiling, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“If only people knew,” you murmur. “I wish I could record this and just end your whole bad boy reputation.”

Rafe laughs, shaking his head. “Let ‘em think what they want, baby. I only care what you think.”

And that’s all that matters.

[romanoffsbish]

Insatiable

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

As you prepare for your college reunion, and life evolves around you, your wife realizes she’s ready for more. | WC: 1978

18+ | Minors DNI

Smut: Natasha has a penis | Oral / Fingering (R) | Overstimulation | 🤏 Penetration (R) | Breeding

You weren't exactly sure how you got here, or so you feigned—because one second you are on the phone, telling your bestie about your plans for the reunion today with Wanda, the other piece of your trio. Then the next you're pressed up against a door until things eventually escalated to the bed. Certainly, you weren't complaining but you did hear Darcy's muffled disgust followed by the earned dial tone, shortly after a moan.

———

Now though, after an hour, you were starting to feel an aching where pleasure once reigned. "Tasha please," you mewled but she just couldn't stop, "shh," her tone was hushed yet intensely raspy as she begged, "just one more for me detka, please." You moaned, discomfort quieted down for now, your spent body melting into the mattress as it succumbed to the pleasure; again.

Natasha couldn't help it, her eyes were transfixed on your cunt as she just continued to plow her fingers into you, the finest rings of white continued to form on her skin, passing her knuckles and thickening every time she pulled out to slam back in and curl up. Each time without fail you'd gasp, then whine rather incoherently—your pussy took over speaking for you as it gushed and her tongue communicated right back, all you could vaguely hear now was your juices splashing about since her lips had left the curve of your jaw to devour you.

It amazed Natasha just how much you always gave, she looked forward to making love to you every few days just so she could bury herself in your warm core. It wasn't scheduled or anything, just a perfect routine that always led to communal pleasure and comfort. It'd be daily but she liked to give you a break from time to time, even though she still spent it wrapped up in you because she couldn't imagine anywhere better to be.

Ever since retirement you'd become her only focus, she read novels from time to time—like whenever you were out with Wanda and Darcy, which in turn inspired many long nights as you usually walked in wearing a new outfit meant to catch her attention, with a sway to your hips that left her pants tight and her mind wild.

Outside of that though, she had no hobbies, her hero training replaced with nights of endless passion. You were astonished that your vagina still worked; it wept for her the same way your heart yearned for her care.

Natasha was a perfect lover, in all ways, but it wasn't always the case. It took years of patience to receive her unwavering love like this. You fought so hard for her too, making it through hell and back in this life just to find her, then it took forever to break down her walls. Because, up until you she had never regarded anyone romantically; everything was carnal for the redhead.

Now, there was a much deeper connection—a roaring fire lit within you by being her one and only lover. It never wavered; the passion, even on the calm nights where you two were just cuddling, the unique, for you intimacy, it just always got you to a point of neediness..

Like last night, when Natasha stretched behind you and you'd felt the soft outline of her bulge against your backside, it made you wet but then she curled around you so sweetly you'd fall for it, she yawned against your cheek before teasingly questioning your disengaged focus, "how are you liking the movie, moya 'lyubov?"

Knowing full and damn well you were more than likely desperate for her touch, she kept her grip on you firm but it was begrudgingly innocent enough. Which was distracting beyond words as you tried to remember any stupid scene you could critique before huffing, "I hate the Bond series, Tasha." Your wife snuggled closer and kissed you tenderly before changing the film, softening you into the perfect, pliable mess you now were.

Natasha was already clued in when you woke up today, you exited the room in a plush grey robe which usually insinuated you were working on your hygiene routine, shaving away your unwanted hair, leaving behind a soft mound for both of your comfort. You had grabbed a banana then winked at your wife as you walked by and she knew that was an invitation to come ruin you.

Whenever she heard the water being turned off is when she knew you would be close to ready for her, so she set her dishes in the sink and briefly waited for the sign. Soon enough the pipes in the wall swooshed and the redhead ran up the stairs, in a grey sports bra and boxers that had an embarrassing wet patch at the top.

Just as you exited you found yourself between strong arms, with warm lips repeatedly being pressed into the crook of your jaw and neck as her hands gripped your hips roughly. A sweet whimper left your lips as she nipped and sucked on your pulse and the redhead chuckled softly, endeared by your usual neediness.

Then a phone fell from your nervous hands right by her feet and she momentarily froze, then you moaned and she was back, the phone loudly disconnected. It was a blur of sinful pleasure; you were desperate.

Natasha pulled away rather abruptly, biting back a laugh with her smirk as you glared at her. "You've already RSVP'd detka, shouldn't we be leaving now?" It took you a long moment to understand what she was even referring to seeing as how the only thing really thinking for you was your dripping, needy pussy.

You were supposed to go to a reunion luncheon today, that's what you were telling Darcy, who was already with the redhead, because Wanda knew better than to expect you there. To greet the class that brought you into both of their lives when you could stay in solitude with your lover. Plus, she is only even going because she is spearheading a scholarship for young women in stem with her boat loads of Tony Stark's guilt money.

If not for her required presence to pass the first check on in a show, she'd be back at home with her wife, Monica, and their kids—Toby, a blue eyed siamese kitten, and Evelyn, their three month old daughter.

It was crazy to think about, how different life is after a decade of being in one another's lives. Natasha never imagined her circumstances would be this sweet and she thanks the witches ambition for it. She'd went to the college campus one day to visit the Sokovian, who decided to get an education alongside her hero gig. It was an end of the world situation, you were with your part time dorm mate at the time and so the Russian brought you too—muttering crap about your safety.

Four months on the lam later, and you were her girl. Tony apologized and got your education fees paid off for all your prior years and the rest to come for being the reason you nearly lost your future, but now you know you were just being rerouted to the right spot.

"Come back to me sweetheart," she cooed, her heart melting as she somehow caught your love drunk gaze. It was like she was lost in the memories with you. The chance to fall in love all over again was enticing but then she remembered her stubbornness and settled into the moment with you. "What's your color?"

"Yellow." It was an instant answer, but you shrugged because you were unsure if you were truly done yet. Natasha knew that what you needed here was a break, so she made the choice to ignore her throbbing cock.

The redhead hummed softly, then kissed your lips just the same, a smile instantly disrupting the gesture as she felt your delicate hands cup her cheeks to firmly hold her in place. There was no rush to the moment though, you two simply kissed, as if you weren't the same women who just missed a college reunion to fuck.

Natasha had plans for tonight though, while everyone there reminisced on their past few years she had you pinned to the mattress with the future on her mind. For years she turned your pleas down for a variety of reasons, but now, after seeing you with Wanda's baby she realized that there's no more time for her fears. You looked so at peace, with the infant you soothed in your arms and she could see your life to be so clearly.

The kiss that spoke your love for one another came to an end when she felt your grip on her face going limp. Natasha chose then to gently slip her fingers out of you. A soft whimper left you at the loss, soothed only into silence as the redhead lovingly kissed your neck.

Once she pulled back from your body, to kneel above you, her eyes were enamored by the way your essence coated her fingers and slowly trailed down the grooves of her palm. She licked her skin clean, sinful noises leaving her as she shamelessly slurped and moaned. She peered down to see your eyes shut, so she left the room. You were much too tired to protest the loss of your wife's comforting embrace, because the delicious void of sleep began to creep into your once clear vision.

Natasha returned to the room a while later, boxers tight with need but heart full as she found you snoring softly. You looked so pretty, curled around her pillow as if it had actually pained you to be apart from her. A singular tear trailed down her cheek at the feeling of your love that surrounded her in this quiet moment.

A sudden urge to fill you, to give you what you wanted, took over her body as she rushed forward. Still, her approach to you was tender, a thumb traced over the apple of your cheek before descending to your lips, where she gently tapped until you naturally pouted. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, met with the smile of your beautiful wife, you instantly smiled back at her.

"Welcome back," she teased, bringing a bottle of water to your lips before you could sass her right back. Then you were being fed various fruits from the tip of a fork, there was no conversation flowing, the both of you enjoying the comfort of the silence. You were oblivious to your lovers giddy look as you enjoyed a watermelon chunk, unaware she was ready to break it. Then you heard the sound of the fork scraping against ceramic, you flinched back to reality in time to hear her loud and clear, "I am finally ready to fuck a baby into you."

"Natasha no," you warned without the bark, she could see you were asking her not to joke, and her face lit up with resolute amusement. "Fuck," you gulped, her body now hovered yours once again, and you knew you were a goner when she wolfishly grinned down at you. "Detka," her hands wrapped around your ankles and you propped your body up on your elbows to watch.

"Color?" There was no hesitation from you, her eyes told you that she meant it, she was ready, "green."

"Oh fuck," you cried when the tip of her thick cock slid through your glistening slit, unrestricted for the first time, her thumbs dug into the dimples in your thighs as she felt your warmth envelop her. "Dermo." You knew once her mouth met yours—moans leaving her in carnal waves as her hips repeatedly met yours with brutal force, that you were screwed beyond a prayer.

Or, to be more on the nose, you were about to be...

[atlas-of-andromeda]

Because I can, I'm answering all of them.

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

Alot of things, obviously, but if I had to pick, I'd say:

Being straight up bullied for expressing interest in things growing up by my brother

Being largely a social outcast for most of my life

And video games

show us a picture of your handwriting?

Yes, I know it looks like shit.

For any curious, it's the lyrics to Does The Swallow Dream Of Flying by Cosmo Sheldrake that I wrote at school a few days ago because it was stuck in my head but I was in math so I couldn't listen to it.

3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

Wolfwalkers

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Heathers (1989)

what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

Piss

(It's a long story)

what made you start your blog?

P.M. Seymour

what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

Best? The anonymity of it.

Worse? The anonymity of it.

what scares you the most and why?

People hating me. I couldn't tell you why even if I wanted to.

any recurring dreams?

Sometimes I have this dream where I'm in a massive... sinkhole? I guess? That's covered entirely in moss, grass, trees, and miscellaneous foliage. There's also a waterfall somewhere in it. Everytime I have the dream it's dark, little light making it to where I am from the surface. I'm stood on this little cliff edge on the side of the hole, and everytime I look over the edge, and fall. And the dream ends there. I've had it at seemingly random intervals throughout the past... maybe nine-ish years?

There's also this dream I consistently have once, every four years. Where I'm awake in my bedroom at like... maybe 04:00 or something. And it's the early winter, snow just dusting the ground. I leave my room and the washroom door is open, light on, but all other lights are off. I walk over to the entranceway, and I can hear my mother screaming from the basement. I proceed to leave through the backdoor. I walk out into the front yard and my brother is there, and the lights on my family's car are on.

It gets a little fuzzy from then on, but I know that at some point I go back inside and there's a spoon - like the utensil - is important is some capacity. And at some point the dream suddenly switches into another, unrelated dream; where I'm laying on my back, on the floor of a massive almost warehouse-like building, completely empty, and except of the white and grey metal normally in warehouses, this building is made out of wooden planks. There's a giant fan on the roof blowing straight down on me. Balloons are involved at some point.

So... feel free to psychoanalyze me if you so wish!

tell a story about your childhood

One time my family and I were out visiting my grandfather, and there was a large lake near where he lived, so we went swimming. Now, I was like, five or six when this happened; I was very small (still am, but less so). And my older brother (by like four years) was walking out into the lake, and I was following him, because I did that sometimes when I was younger. And because he was (and still is) a lot bigger than me, he went out just fine. But because I was so small, the water picked me up and flipped me over, and I started drowning. My parents came to the rescue (my brother ignored me (dick)).

would you say you’re an emotional person?

I've gotten better in the last year or two, but yes.

what do you consider to be romance?

Couldn't tell you if I tried.

what’s some good advice you want to share?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

what are you doing right now?

Typing shit on Tumblr.

what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

Come out.

what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

A house.

if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I'd make myself braver and less of of a push-over

name 3 things that make you happy

Music, drawing, walking in nature

do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

Nope. Not even kinda.

favourite thing about the day?

Being on the bus to and from school. I'm not at school or my house and I get to talk with my friend.

favourite things about the night?

Nobody bothers you. You are left alone for hours on end. It's the only time you get peace.

are you a spiritual person?

Nope.

say 3 things about someone you love

You're always making such shit comments about LGBT+ and minority people, and I can't say anything in retort. You make it easy to forget what a shit person you are, and I'm happy until you make one of those comments again. You're the only person who seems to care about me, even if I know that that if I were to be honest with you that'd change in a second.

say 3 things about someone you hate

You can't shut up for five seconds and give me peace and quiet. You've ruined my life in so many ways for so long. I can't wait for you to be gone.

what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

Going on for this long.

fave season and why?

Autumn. Cold, but not frostbite cold. limited amounts of bugs. Pretty colours. :)

fave colour and why?

Red. No reason, just like it.

any nicknames?

Pumpkin - my father.

do you collect anything?

Yeah! Rocks and breadclips! (Random. I know)

what do you do when you’re sad?

Depends. If I'm in public, suck it up until in private. In private, cry and read fanfiction.

what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

Music.

are you messy or organized?

Pretty organized.

how many tabs do you have open right now?

...17...

any hobbies?

Drawing, writing, dancing, singing, playing guitar, playing harmonica.

any pet peeves?

People with no volume control.

do you trust easily?

Not really.

are you an open book or do you have walls up?

As many walls as possible.

share a secret

No. :)

fave song at the moment?

Vulture Culture by Fangclub

youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

Rendog. Idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

any bad habits?

Biting my nails.

questions I think would be fun to be asked

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

show us a picture of your handwriting?

3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

what made you start your blog?

what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

what scares you the most and why?

any reacquiring dreams?

tell a story about your childhood

would you say you’re an emotional person?

what do you consider to be romance?

what’s some good advice you want to share?

what are you doing right now?

what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

name 3 things that make you happy

do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

favourite thing about the day?

favourite things about the night?

are you a spiritual person?

say 3 things about someone you love

say 3 things about someone you hate

what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

fave season and why?

fave colour and why?

any nicknames?

do you collect anything?

what do you do when you’re sad?

what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

are you messy or organised?

how many tabs do you have open right now?

any hobbies?

any pet peeves?

do you trust easily?

are you an open book or do you have walls up?

share a secret

fave song at the moment?

youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

any bad habits?

(this post was stolen from @teenage-mutant-ninja-freak, since it couldn't be reblogged anymore)

[vikasmama]

that mean caitlyn drabble you wrote nghh *short circuiting noises*

distracting her while she's trying to work, filling out some ridiculous paperwork or something that means nothing to you. so desperate it hurts, trying not to make it obvious how you rut against one of her office chairs watching her work. her long fingers twirling her pen and her brows furrowed in concentration, all fueling your neediness until she stops pretending she doesn't hear you and reprimands you for being such a whore omgggg

⭑ need to be her dumb office pet.

⋆౨ৎ ₊cw. — (men + minors dni!) afab!reader, mean dom!caitlyn, fingering, choking, edging, degradation, dumbification…. gulp. no aftercare ˊᴖˋ use of “whore”, “slut”, “my love / dear”. i fully ran w this teehee!

“sit in my office with me, dear.” caitlyn airily suggests, trailing her slender fingers down your arm, squeezing before passing you in the hall.

“please. i work better with you around.”

it’s hard to deny caitlyn of anything, and usually you wouldn’t. you won’t because her hair is down, cascading down her shoulders and back, and she’s wearing that tight, black turtleneck you love. so, yes, you will sit pretty in her office like she wants, even though you hesitated from how needy you’d gotten with her simple touch in the hallway.

now, it is becoming more difficult by the second to ignore the warm ache between your legs. she’s reading something, analyzing it? she’s completely engrossed, eyebrows creased in the same way they appear when she’s concentrated on stuffing her cock into you just right. she readjusts in her seat, leaning fully back against the chair and bringing the document closer, giving you a full view of her pillowy thighs begging for you to have a seat. her favorite fountain pen is twirled back and forth between her fingers, and you’re suppressing whines at the thought of being the object.

you’ve become incredibly thankful for the armrests that the chairs in her office have. your hands dig into the cushioning, holding all your restraint to not moan and make a scene in your grip. your thighs clench together just watching her, slowly grinding yourself into the chair as best you can. it isn’t enough, it never stood a chance of being so. just a weak imitation of her fingers, her tongue, her dick - anything your imagination could conjure. still, you find a decent angle every few rock of your hips and that’s enough to satiate you for now.

( fast forward to her recognizing your labored breaths, calling you over and demanding you display yourself on top her desk since you want to act so “perverted”. )

“you cannot sit still for more than a few minutes?” caitlyn chastises you, a bite to her words you often hear when she’s irritated. your once suppressed whines come out full throttle now, arching off the desk when her slender fingers push deeper into you.

“so desperate. you’re pathetic.”

“c-cait-”

“shut up. stupid sluts don’t get to speak to me. you’ll cum and then leave me to my fucking work.” your eyes are tightly squeezed close, though if they weren’t you’d see how her cold gaze doesn’t once leave your face. her one uncovered eye watches you, the sadisticness in her deriving pleasure from how utterly dumb she makes you. she lets out a sigh as your bucking hips knock a few papers off the desk, her jaw clenching.

pushing you further back atop the surface, caitlyn invades your space more. her fingers deftly increasing in speed, highlighting the dirty, depraved squelching sounds your cunt makes. you suck her in so eagerly, wetness pooling under you, over her documents. your lover grabs your face, focusing your withering attention on her. still, her eyes remain on yours. even as her thumb finds your clit and you thrash a little from the overwhelm, she stares. caitlyn’s always been one for nonverbal communication, actions are louder than words and all that. she’s learned with much time how much she likes to watch. to see how you tremble, the pout you wear and extra whines you let out when she calls you names. caitlyn thinks you’re so beautiful like this, a sweet, dumb mess all for her. her poor baby.

“tell me, do you have any idea how important this work is?everything i must fill out, sign off, to keep this city going?” a third finger is added to her strokes somewhere during her questioning, you don’t even remember feeling it. you can’t remember much of anything. she squeezes your cheeks hard, pursing your lips adorably as your sounds become garbled. she scoffs out a dry laugh, “of course not. this is all you think about.”

you nod, too excitedly for the way you’re being spoken to. she lets your face go and you moan out her name, digging your nails into the grooves of wood to steady yourself. the stretch caitlyn gives you has your eyes crossing, and you’re quickly teetering over the edge of cumming.

“cait, pl-please,” the only thing you can think to do is beg because you know she knows. she always does. “let me cum, please! ohmygod, fuckfuck- mmph!” and she lets you beg, even if she also knows she’s not going to give you what you want.

“you want to cum, my love?”

her accented voice leveled, unaffected, just sounds so fucking good. you're pulsing. squeaking out series of pleads and yeses, your thighs twitch uncontrollably and almost squeeze around her arm. you can feel it, your lower stomach tightening and it’s so hot; your mind goes blank and you’re ready to scream— and she stops.

“hm. dumb whore. how naive.”

all the adrenaline, titillation you’d built falls flat. the sudden loss of stimulation makes you sniffle, breathing heavy as your beating heart does its best to still. she doesn’t pull out, just lets you grapple with how full you are with nothing to do about it. you have half the mind to whine and be a brat about it, call her mean and turn your nose up at her advances. but then you’d be like this for hours, taking her fingers or whatever else she decides you deserve and maybe you wouldn’t get to cum at all… yeah, you’ll be good and take it.

“do you honestly think you deserve to? tearing me away from my work like this, dripping all over my documents. i should just leave you like this.” her scolding has you whining like a kicked puppy. she shifts her fingers ever so slightly to tease, fighting back a chuckle with how quickly she feels your pussy clench and try to suck them deeper in. “i’m just reinforcing bad behavior, aren’t i?”

“no, fuck- please! please, it won’t happen again,” it will. “i’ll be good, caitlyn, i swear!” you won’t.

shit, you’re breathtaking. the sheen of sweat covering your forehead, the tip of your nose, makes you glow akin to a star. she wants to kiss away your frown, pinch your rosy cheeks, pamper you as she usually does. and of course she wants to see you cum, right after she’s taught you a bit about patience.

a gasp catches in your throat when she leisurely starts circling your clit once again. it’s too slow, you need more, more. though before you’re given the chance to consider complaining, fingers wrap around your neck and press deliciously into your skin. fuck, what were you even thinking about? she pulls you forward by her hold, looking down on you with a merciless smile. you try not to buck or squirm under her touch so she keeps going, your wrecked moans strained while you let her have her way.

“you do know how to sit still, then.” eyes meet and a whimper escapes you at her unwavering gaze. you feel completely brainless by now, unable to compute anything other than getting her to keep fucking you. you attempt a nod to show that yes, you’re learning. please, please just go faster. caitlyn seems to appreciate it, humming and bringing her lips to your ear.

“good sluts that wait get rewarded.”

and then her forgotten fingers are curling inside you, dragging along your walls and hitting your favorite spot with more speed she’d given you previously. caitlyn’s fingers squeeze tighter around your neck, muddling your brain more and keeping you in place for her viewing pleasure. her entire study smells like sex, the air is hot and so are you, so hot and warm — she just started again and you feel the warmth building up as quickly as before. “thank you…thaank youthankyou-” your gratitude messily falls from your lips, but you’re cut off by your girl’s annoyed tone.

“stop whining and cum.”

her permission gives you the final push you needed. feeling yourself reach your peak, whole body tensed and seeing white, it’s so much. it’s so good. you claw at caitlyn’s arm holding your throat for stability while her fingers fuck you through it expertly. she hums in approval when you start trembling, thighs burning and tired and overstimulation starting to build from her mercilessness. she releases your throat, and with some last few strokes she also pulls out, inspecting the stickiness coating her now pruned fingers.

“open.” and immediately your jaw falls slack like the trained slut she’s made of you. you suck like it’s all you know, eyes rolling back from her prodding on your tongue. for once, caitlyn coos soothingly, rubbing one of your thighs to ease your comedown.

“there you are. come, dear, let’s get you cleaned up.”

maybe she’ll bend you over the desk next time.

— 𖦹₊⊹ vikasmama.

[aakeysmash]

Pregnancy cravings

Farmer!Sukuna’s masterlist

Farmer!Sukuna thought dealing with your pregnancy cravings would be a walk in the park. I mean, come on, you two are basically self sufficient: he’s literally a farmer, what could you possibly crave that he doesn’t already have planted or stored?

Your cravings hit at the start of your second trimester. You’re barely showing, and probably the fact that nothing you eat stays in your stomach for more than two hours isn’t helping your case.

It’s winter and it’s snowing: your fields are currently covered in snow, your chickens are huddled up in their coop, your cows are sleeping in their heated stable… and you? You’re reading a book right in front of your fireplace. Sukuna gets home with his arms full of logs to keep the fire alive all night. He sets them on the ground before plopping down next to you with snow clinging to his hair.

“Get off, your nose is cold,” you mumble, pushing him away when he tries to give you a kiss. He raises one of his eyebrows, kissing you on the cheek either way (two times, to spite you). You let out a dramatic whine.

He chuckles, ruffling his hair and wetting your book’s pages with a couple of snowflakes. Annoyed, you roughly close the book, and turn around to give him a piece of your mind, just to find yourself wrapped in his arms.

“I said get off,” you repeat, softer, leaning in despite your words. His body heat is doing a better job than the fire at thawing the chill from your limbs.

“And I don’t care,” he replies nonchalantly. He kisses your temple, cocooning you deeper into him by opening his legs and tucking you into the space in front of him. You grumble something unintelligible.

“How are the only two people I can stand doing today?” He asks you, rocking you side by side. Seeing you pregnant makes him feel uncomfortably soft. And seeing you pregnant with his child? Oh god.

“I want ice cream.”

He stops.

“Huh?”

“More like your offspring wants ice cream,” you sniffle from under his jaw.

“I don’t think we have any in the freezer,” he responds, looking you in the eyes. Your lip starts wobbling.

“But I want it,” you brokenly say, trying to swallow your sobs. His heart clenches.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to have it today,” he says, and immediately regrets it when your eyes well up with tears.

“C’mon, don’t cry now, it’s just ice cream,” he tries to comfort you. Apparently he does a horrible job, because you start bawling.

“But I want it! And I hate that I want it so bad! You know how much I hate playing the weak and fragile woman part, why are you being mean?” you wail, shoving him away and getting up. You quickly go to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, the duvet that was covering you mere seconds ago acting as your cloak.

“No, babe, I’m not-“

You snap your head back angrily, levelling him with a hostile glare. “Yes you are! You’re being mean when it’s your fault I’m like this!” You motion to your body.

“Actually, you begged for it, wife,” he shrugs, a corner of his mouth lifting. He doesn’t expect the punch you throw at his chest.

“Don’t ever come near me again,” you seethe, drinking your water and flying up the stairs. He sighs, rubbing his temples, wincing when he hears you sniffle again.

After ten minutes he knocks on your bedroom door- the same one you not-so-gracefully threw in his face.

“C’mon. Get out,” he grits out. Who knew dealing with a pregnant woman would strip him of the little patience he still has left?

“No. You value me less than ice cream.”

He sighs. “What can I do t’ make you forgive me?” He hears the soft pit pat of your sock-clad feet on the floor before the door creaks open. From the last few months, he'd say your mood swing should be finished by now.

You gently lower the handle, looking at his condescending espression. Then you sag your shoulder, gazing at the floor.

"You big crybaby. C'mere," he smirks, opening his arms. You bury your head in his shoulder, and he pats your hair mockingly.

"I still want ice cream, though," you mumble.

"I'll go get it at the city right now if ya stop crying," he chuckles. He widens his eyes, realizing that... he caught himself too late.

You abruptly step back. He winces.

"And you'd leave me here all alone?! Why don't you love me anymore?!"

[sirenpearldust]

Found you 2

Baby Daddy Azriel!

Series masterlist ⋆ Part one ⋆ Part three

Pair: Azriel x Spring Court! Reader

Word count: 3.050

Warning: fluff

Summary: conditions are set

Azriel sat up straighter in his seat, he cleaned up, looked more put together. He wanted to make a better impression on his son than last time. The memory of his terrified face hasn’t left him, it has been haunting his dreams. Just the reminder unsettled him. 

A hint of nervousness crept in, what if one misstep meant he wouldn’t be allowed to see his son again?

Meanwhile, you watched him as he sat across from you, dressed in black pants and a blouse that accentuated every defined muscle he had honed through years of training in the illyrian camps.

His piercing hazel eyes wandered intensely as he surveyed the room. Until they locked onto you, sharp and unyielding. His knuckles repeatedly tightened until they turned white before he forced himself to let go. Black massive wings folded tightly against his back, his shadows swirling around him, still inspecting the unfamiliar space. 

Instead of his usual cold, detached demeanor, irritation flickered across his features. 

That’s a first, you thought. 

For once, he wasn’t emotionless.

For once, he was unraveling and it was because of you.

You had to hand it to his genes, you had basically birthed his twin. Amias was the spitting image of him, inheriting the same elegant planes of his face, a beauty that was almost otherworldly. He had his hair, his wings and even his skin tone.  The only feature that set him apart were his eyes. Those were yours, a striking reminder of your Spring Court legacy shining through.

You still remembered the sadness, the ache in your chest as you watched your son grow into the features of his father. 

The same scowl, the same smile, the same dimples. 

It felt like a cruel twist of fate that your son had to look so much like the man who had caused you so much pain.

Sipping your tea, you deliberately avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the view outside.               He didn’t deserve an ounce of your attention, not anymore. 

You two were here for one reason and one reason only; to discuss Amias.                                        You had to push your feelings aside, no matter how difficult it was.

It hadn’t been part of your plan for Amias to get to know Azriel. He wasn’t supposed to find out about him, he was meant to be raised by you, away from any danger.

Azriel’s presence now posed a threat to your role as a parent and as a noble in Spring. His work was dangerous enough and his ties to the Inner Circle only added more risks. The already volatile situation in Spring was bad enough already. You didn’t need to be accused of treason or colluding with the enemy, you’ve already had enough problems.

“Are you going to sit there silent again and not say anything?” Azriel asked, his shadows darkening around him.

Your lip curled in a faint smile. It was almost amusing, holding something over him, having a semblance of power for once. You might have felt guilty for using your son in this way, but Amias didn’t even know his father, not really, not the way you did.

He had no idea of the darkness and cruelty Azriel was capable of.

“You’re too loud,” you said softly, setting your tea cup down. His wings bristled, and you could tell it had pissed him off.

“I’ll lay the conditions out for you,” you continued, calm and unwavering. 

“Be against even one of them and you’ll have no right to see my son.”

“Our son,” Azriel corrected, his jaw tightening as his knuckles turned white again. He knew, he knew you had set traps, and he wasn’t sure if he was prepared to navigate them.

“He’s my son too, Y/N,” Azriel said, frustration lacing his voice as his hand ran through his hair roughly.

“I only want what’s best for him.”

You ignored him. 

Without a glance in his direction, you opened the folder and slid the sheet in front of him, wordlessly demanding his attention to what truly mattered now.

The conditions were clear and non-negotiable. They were there to protect Amias and you.

1. You are not allowed to take Amias without my permission.

2. Wherever you go with him, you must inform me first.

3. He’s my heir and will receive his education in Spring.

4. He will not train in the Illyrian camps unless he is of age and wishes to do so.

5. You will have no authority over me as his mother.

6. You will be a present father unless he chooses not to see you.

7. Your highest priority is to protect him, cherish him and ensure his safety.

8. You will treat him with respect, kindness and love.

9. You will not arrange or force any marriage upon him.

10. You will not harm me, kill me, or order anyone else to do so in order to have Amias.

11. You will not inform your family of his existence without my permission.

12. You will protect Amias before anyone else, this includes you protecting and serving your High Lord or your mate.

13. You will protect what is mine and what is automatically our son’s legacy.

14. In the event of my death, you will safeguard his wealth, inheritance and well-being. No one shall touch it.

15. You will not take Amias out of Spring unless he is in grave danger, or I am dead.

16. If you choose to have any other children, you are to treat them the same as Amias.

17. Any woman you decide to stay in a relationship with and who is to get to know our son, you will introduce to me first.

18. In the case of a mating bond between us, you will not force it upon me and will let it go if I do not want it.

19. You will not disturb my private life, you will treat me with respect and courtesy.

Azriel rubbed his temples, clearly irritated. 

Most of the conditions were reasonable, but the restrictions on when and how he could see Amias gnawed at him. 

Why did you have to control every aspect? Why did you have to approve when and if he could spend time alone with his son, or when his family could know about his existence?

“Can I introduce him to my family?” Azriel asked, his voice tight with frustration.

“No,” you replied coldly, your gaze unwavering. You hated the Night Court, they were the reason for Spring’s ruin and had caused multiple issues in Prythian across almost every court.

“He has a cousin,” Azriel pressed.

“You and I have no living siblings,” you shot back.

Azriel’s temper flared. 

“Rhys has a son.”

“He’s your High Lord,” you responded flatly.

“He’s my brother.”

You sighed rolling your eyes. “Sure.”

“So can he see his cousin?”

“No!”

Azriel groaned in frustration, his patience running thin. 

“Will you ever allow any of this to be permissible?”

You shrugged, taking another sip of that damned tea, that Azriel now seemed to take a dislike to.

“You either accept the conditions and make this bargain, or you can say goodbye to the future you’ve imagined,” you said, your voice steady but firm.

Azriel sighed, knowing full well you were serious. 

“These conditions are set to protect Amias. He doesn’t know you and I won’t thrust him into your world directly.”

“What about condition 18?” Azriel asked, his voice tight,.

“What about it?” you responded, your gaze unwavering. 

“Will you reject it?”

“There is no bond,” you replied, your tone cold.

Azriel’s jaw clenched again, the tension rising in his chest. “If there is one, will you reject it?”

“Most likely.”

His heart twinged painfully and an uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach, like a bad omen. He hoped he wasn’t your mate because if he was, you would let him suffer. He was sure of it especially after what had happened.

“You know I’ll go insane from a rejected mating bond.” 

You hummed in response, uncaring of the worry in his voice. 

“Let’s then hope it doesn’t happen,” you said, a sharp smile playing on your lips as you met his eyes.

Azriel’s wings shuddered as the weight of the situation settled in. He didn’t feel good about this, not one bit.

“Fine,” he said, his voice resigned, “I accept all 19 conditions.”

You smiled and extended your hand. He took it without hesitation, his rough, scarred hand engulfing yours. The touch brought a flood of memories, both beautiful and painful.

Azriel couldn’t help but notice the softness of your skin, a stark contrast to the calluses and scars that marked his own. 

In that brief moment, you both felt something, an electric jolt, a slight burning sensation. You felt the tattoo spreading under your chest, across your ribs. You were glad that you could hide it, no one had to know about what was happening.

Azriel’s breath caught. He opened his top, revealing the tattoo spreading underneath his pectorals. Tracing the lines with his fingers. You almost choked on your spit. What was he doing?

You quickly turned your face away, not wanting to see the sudden state of undress. It was nothing you hadn’t seen before, nothing you wanted to revisit, either.

In the brief glance you noticed something else, new scars. Some were fresh, still pink against his skin, while others had faded to white, stark against his tan.

“Roses,” Azriel murmured to himself.

“Now that we have a bargain, you can see him.”

You stood up, the white floral dress a stark contrast to Azriel’s dark attire.

Azriel was just a step behind you, he was eager to see his son. 

He wanted to teach Amias how to fly, how to fight, to show him the things a father should. He wasn't going to abandon him the way he had been. No, he would be present. He would be the father his son deserved, a steady presence in his life.

For the first time in his life he had hope for a bright future, he wants to build something better, to give Amias a future full of care, love and guidance. 

⋆ ♡ ⋆

Amias had been full of questions ever since he first met Azriel. His curiosity was boundless, he would comment on Azriel’s wings, marveling at how similar they were to his own. He spoke of the shadows, how they moved like his did.

Azriel’s shadows mingled with his own, twisting and swirling in a gentle dance and Amias couldn’t help but laugh whenever they played with him. They were soft and cool against his skin.

Azriel’s gaze softened when he heard his giggling. He felt this immense feeling seeing his son’s joy, feeling his happiness, hearing it, being a part of it.

He had come with presents - toys, books, sweets.  He bought him books, child stories from the night court, stories of Illyrian legends, a little teddy bear and a bag filled with small cherry candies, you know Azriel enjoyed. 

“Amias,” you called softly, lowering yourself to his level with open arms. He ran toward you, his little face lighting up as he kissed you on the cheek. You smiled, warmth flooding your chest as you gave him small kisses back, holding him close for a moment. You breathed him in, he smelled like a baby, you didn’t want him to grow up. He was already bigger than the other children his age. 

Azriel watched the scene from a few steps behind, it stirred up memories he had long forgotten, pushed away. It reminded him of his own rare moments of excitement as a child, the joy he’d felt in those fleeting times he was allowed to see his mother, when he was out of the cell.

He observed how animatedly Amias spoke to you, his small hands gesturing wildly as he recounted his latest “battle” with his plushies. Azriel couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, he was in awe as he took in the pure, unrestrained joy of your son, their son.

Amias’s eyes wandered up to him. He immediately recognized Azriel, but this time, instead of looking scared like before, he smiled at him.

He was taken aback by his reaction. His eyes immediately searched yours, knowing you had something to do with it, but you ignored him, focused on brushing Amias’s hair. 

It had grown long, already reaching his shoulders, he was in need of a new haircut.

Amias slowly slipped from your arms and stood in front of Azriel, his clothes a soft baby blue. His wings pressed tightly against his back and a shadow lingered at his feet. He stood there in awe, his eyes wide and round, smiling and giggling up at Azriel.

Azriel slowly lowered himself to Amias’s level. Even kneeling, his towering figure still loomed larger than both you and Amias. His sheer size stirred something hot inside you, something you’d buried long ago.

“Hello,” Azriel said softly.

Amias took a step back, looking at you for reassurance, as if searching for confirmation.

You smiled brightly, nodding and giving him the encouragement to go ahead. Amias turned toward Azriel again, his hands nervously fiddling. “Are you my daddy?”

Azriel’s breath hitched. There, standing in front of him, was his son, real and alive.

 “Yeah, I am.”

Amias took a step toward him, wrapping his small arms around Azriel and pressing his tiny head into his chest, sniffling. You and Azriel watched as Amias’s small hands clung to him. Without hesitation, Azriel held him close as he cried silently, his heart pounding in his chest. He sat on the floor, embracing him tightly, gently caressing his head, whispering apologies for not being there all this time.

That’s how the three of you spent the afternoon into the evening, watching Amias play, him eagerly dragging both of you into his games.

Yet, he was always a little nervous, always turning toward Azriel, as if he feared his father might disappear again.

You both sat on the floor next to each other.

“Thank you,” he said, watching you. Your eyes never leaving Amias.

“For what?” 

“For birthing, raising and loving him.”

“He’s my son. That’s a given.”

Azriel searched your eyes and this time, you didn’t look away. His gaze was soft and you hated the vulnerability in it.

“You know how they treat bastards.”

“We’re in spring,” you replied softly, making sure Amias wouldn’t overhear. 

“Bastards are a given. What do you think happens after Calanmai?”

He nodded, relieved that his son wouldn’t be ignored or left alone.

“Even if he is Illyrian?”

You laughed softly, a touch of amusement in your voice.

“Yes, even then.”

“They don’t care about that,” you said, your tone steady. “You’d know that if you picked up a book once in a while.”

Azriel winced at the jab, his eyes narrowing slightly. Here he thought you were finally opening up to him, but your words made it clear how you felt about him.

“Spring is inherently open,” you continued, “We accept everyone and everything. That’s why festivals like Calanmai exist and the land prospered with children, happy, healthy children. At least, before Amarantha came and your Lords, or shall I say your “brother” and his runaway whore”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, the urge to retort rising in him. He wanted to tell you that Tamlin had been warned, that he had continued despite it all, but he couldn’t. Your son was here and he shouldn’t witness his parents fighting. But god, the way your eyes burned with hatred whenever you looked at him or spoke about the Night Court, it stung.

“Daddy are you angry?”

Azriel noticed the worry in Amias’s face and immediately smiled, shaking his head. “Just tired.”

“Mama tired too,” Amias added.

You chuckled softly at his cuteness. 

You felt Azriels rage just a few seconds ago, you were thankful that he was still good at lying. You only cared about your son, Azriel’s feelings couldn’t interest you in the slightest.

“Amias, full sentences, please.”

“Mama, I am tired too.”

“You wanna go sleep with Daddy?” Azriel asked gently.

Amias nodded, his tiny arms stretching out toward Azriel. In his fathers arms, he stopped you from going to the office, where you usually spent your time.

You looked at him, noticing the expectant look in his eyes. “Can you both come?”

You nodded, glancing at Azriel. “You’ve got time, or do you need to go to work?”

Azriel smirked, scaring you. “I’m on vacation.”

The surprise was evident in your eyes as Azriel caught you off guard for the first time. Before you could respond, he scooped up Amias, who giggled in delight.

“Where is your room, little prince?” Azriel asked, holding his son up in the air with a grin.

Azriel’s smile was radiant and Amias looked so happy, it made your heart swell. Even if the reason behind it all was the sperm donor, the sight of your son so content made everything feel right.

“Let’s go,” Azriel said, his voice warm as he began to walk.

⋆ ♡ ⋆

There you three laid, Amias down in the middle, nestled safely between you both. 

Azriel had woken up, his internal clock honed over centuries stirring him from sleep. But as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, the sight before him felt almost unreal, like a dream he wasn’t ready to wake from.

His son was here and you.                                                                                                                 There you were, lying beside Amias, your long hair fanned out behind you, arms wrapped protectively around the small boy as he cuddled into you. It was endearing, the way you both slept so peacefully next to him. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, Azriel had slept through the night, no nightmares, no restlessness, just quiet, steady breaths filling the space around him.

His eyelids grew heavy again and he let himself sink back into the warmth of the mattress. Just as he was drifting off, Amias stirred, sleepily turning toward him. Tiny hands reached for him as he snuggled into Azriel’s chest, his breath soft and steady.

Azriel let out a slow breath, wrapping an arm around his son. 

And for the first time in a long, long time, he let himself rest again.

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[lovecla]

FAVORITE KIND OF NIGHT ; HUGHES, SLAFKOVSKÝ

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, juraj slafkovský x fem!reader, ex-cole caufield x fem!reader

SUMMARY when you found out your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you the entire time, you do what every girl does when they get cheated on: you fuck his best friends.

WORD COUNT 5,5k

WARNINGS taboo content, cheating, foursome (f/m/m/m), p in v, unprotected sex, degradation, mention of stomach bulge, creampie, double p in v, rough sex, manhandling, dirty talk, humiliation, subspace, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), gagging, dacryphilia, brief aftercare.

FROM ME TO YOU my loves, listen to your clara very carefully: if you do not agree with ANY of what’s written here, please consider not reading. this is just a silly idea i had a few days ago and i wanted to write about it. i have zero intentions of offending anyone: this is pure fiction! none of this is real! anyways, thank you @cyberhughes for listening to my naughty thoughts about this plot and for having my back. love you juni baby, this one’s for you <3 and for those who are still here, have a nice reading!

𖧷

on that lonely night, said it wouldn't be love

but we felt the rush (fell in love)

it made us believe it was only us

THE THING about being a hockey girlfriend is that you will, most certainly, get cheated on.

When you first heard that, you thought it was just bullshit— not all men are the same and all of that. Some people were just unfortunate to have shitty boyfriends, but not you.

Or at least that’s what you thought before watching a viral video of your boyfriend of two years kissing three different girls at a party.

The video was blurry, and maybe if you were a little bit more naive, you wouldn’t have noticed that the man eating those girls’ lips was, in fact, Cole Caufield, the man you swore to be the love of your life.

“Maybe it’s not him, Y/n,” your friend said, voice soft and gentle, as she put your phone down and locked it. “Cole wouldn’t do that… right?”

Right, you want to say. Of course he wouldn’t do that.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to lie and betray your own trust. You sat there, on your couch, thinking about what you were going to do.

Your relationship was public, Cole had already posted pictures of you several times over the years, but now, so was the fact that he cheated on you with not just one girl, but with two more.

Now, everyone knows that you got cheated on, and that you weren’t an exception to the Hockey rule.

“‘s okay,” you sniff, cleaning your nose with your sweater’s sleeve. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, really, but what else could you do?

Truth is, even though you love— loved?— Cole a lot, you had been feeling a little bit weird. Cole didn’t seek you anymore, he didn’t look at you the same way he used to do when you first started dating.

You thought it was just the fact that he was tired and feeling responsible for his team’s recklessness, but clearly, it wasn’t just that.

Days passed after the terrible, awful video, and even though you hadn’t spoken to Cole in probably two weeks— he was away and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer his texts—, you wanted to break things up with him in person.

“Why would you do that?” Your friend asked over the phone, and you sighed.

“Because I’m better than he is,” you say. “And because I need to get closure.”

“I guess you’re right,” she sighs, and then she’s quiet for a few seconds. But, “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” You ask, rolling to your side. “What is it?”

“There’s going to be a party at Zegras’ place tonight,” she says. “Heard Cole shit ass is going.”

“Who told you that?”

“I was talking to one of his new buddies, and he invited me to the party. Said I could go if I kept my mouth shut to you,” she scoffed. “I thought about telling him to hell and then telling him to fuck himself but I thought it might be more useful to pretend I wasn’t going to tell you anything and then tell you everything.”

You chuckled. “Yeah. We’re going, then?”

“We so are going,” she giggles. “I’ll bring the eggs.”

“I’ll bring the flour.”

𖧷

THE PARTY looked more like a frat party than anything, which lowkey disgusted you.

You knew the majority of the players were young and still in their teenager mindset, but whenever you went to a party, it usually had more decorum than whatever this was.

The music was so loud you couldn’t hear your friend talking next to you. People were grinding against each other like they were in heat and ready to fuck in front of everyone, and the room had a strong smell of marijuana and cheap beer.

You rolled your eyes but focused on your reason to be there: find Cole, break up with him and maybe even embarrass him in front of all of his friends.

You tried to warn your friend about where you were going, but since the music was too loud, you just signaled to the door on your right. She nodded, and you moved around the room, feeling with your feet the way the floor shook with the song’s thrumming.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to walk much. Cole’s stupid ass seemed to have forgotten to close his room’s door, and now you were staring at the 5’8” man you thought was going to be the father of your kids, kissing another girl.

“So, this looks really fun, huh?” You said, closing the room’s door, and suddenly, all of the eyes were on you. Cole’s included.

“Y-Y/n, what,” he stutters, removing the girl from his lap and getting up. “What are you doing here, baby?”

“No, what are you doing here?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling yourself start to burn with anger. “Weren’t you supposed to be in New York?”

“No, you see—”

“Is your name New York, sweetie?” You ask the girl who was previously kissing him, who looks like a scared, little kitten. Little does she know you’re not going after her— you couldn't care less about her. “Uh, I guess not.”

There were at least eight other people in the room, sitting there and goofing around. But now, all of them looked like they would pay a hundred thousand bucks not to be in Cole’s shoes.

“Y/n—” he tries again, reaching for your arm.

You step back, flinching away from his touch. “Don’t fucking touch me, Cole. You’re fucking sick. I hope y’all have fun,” you hiss, turning around and heading towards the room’s door again. You look over your shoulder, watching Cole’s sorrowful face. “Enjoy as much as you can, darling. I know his dick won’t make you happy.”

You leave the room with fast steps, not before hearing Cole’s so-called friends laugh out loud with your words. You could feel yourself burning with anger, which made you happy. You thought you were going to feel destroyed, sad and depressed when you confronted him about the fact that he cheated on you regularly.

But after seeing his pathetic expression and actions, you realised you weren’t the one who should be feeling that way.

Your legs were moving on their own, and when you noticed, you were on the second floor, barging in another room, opening its door with full strength.

Only to blush even more, this time not with anger, no.

“Oh, hey there, Y/n. Where’s the fire?”

Jack’s sarcastic tone made you hold the door’s handle tighter, and when you looked around, you felt like a fish out of its tank.

The room was poorly lit, only the yellow light from the lamps reflected on the dark walls of the room, making the environment seem more intimate than it really was.

There were sofas along the room, and low music was playing, probably coming from one of the cell phones.

Because not only Jack Hughes was there, but his oldest brother, Quinn and Juraj Slafkovský.

You didn’t even know Quinn and Jack got along with Slaf, yet there they were, sitting and chatting with each other like they weren’t all rivals during the weekdays.

They laughed with Jack’s little remark before Quinn said: “You can come in, we don’t bite.”

“Unless you want to.” Juraj was the one who said this, to your ultimate surprise, and you rolled your eyes, doing as they said and getting in, closing the door behind you.

“Dude, come on,” Jack laughs. “She has a boyfriend.”

“Not anymore,” you say, for the first time since you opened the door. You eyed the drink cart in the corner of the room, taking full steps towards it and opening the first bottle you say. Whiskey. Great. “I just broke up with Cole, actually.”

There was a second of silence before you heard some clapping behind you, which made you turn around and stare at the grown men sitting across the room.

“What’s this clapping for?” You ask.

“It was about time, Y/n, what the hell,” Juraj says. “Guy’s been cheating on you for months.”

“And you guys didn’t think of, I don’t know, maybe give me a heads up?” You ask, sarcasm pouring out of your mouth while you pour the alcoholic drink in the glass sitting on the wooden surface. Then, you walk until you’re sitting beside Quinn and Juraj. “Would’ve been nice.”

“Sorry,” Quinn says, poking your shoulder. “In my defense, I wasn’t around enough to know he was cheating.”

“In my defense,” Jack starts. “I don’t like him.”

“In my defense,” Juraj finishes, opening his legs and resting his arms behind his head. “I couldn’t do it, because I would’ve been called a homewrecker.”

You almost choked on your drink. “What?!”

“You know I’ve been wanting to fuck you for ages now,” he sighs, like he’s tired of saying that; like he’s been saying that for a long time now. “But you can’t exactly fuck your homie’s girlfriend, can you?”

“Word.” Jack says, leaning forward to fist bumping Juraj. Quinn only chuckles and you can’t believe your eyes.

You’ve known all of them for basically the same amount of time, and you liked them a lot. Jack was a little, teasing shit, way too different from Quinn, but he was funny and so were his brothers— hanging out with them was always fun.

Quinn was private but sweet, probably one of your favorite people in the league. His soft spoken demeanor had made its way into your heart and was now stuck there, for the rest of your life, probably.

And Juraj was an old friend, someone you knew even before you started dating Cole— he was the reason you and Cole got together in the first place.

So hearing that one of your closest friends wants to have sex with you is weird, especially because he had just confessed that in front of two other men.

You stare at them, incredulous. “What are you even talking about?”

“Come on, Y/n, you can’t be this oblivious,” Jack grunts, and you tilt your head, confused. “You didn’t notice the way he looks at you?”

“Fuck you, Hughes,” Slaf curses, giving him the middle finger. “Like you’re one to talk. Everyone knows you’re head over heels for her and you know which head I’m talking about.”

Quinn laughs like what Slaf said had been the funniest thing he’d heard in a while, while Jack simply shrugs and looks at you with expectant eyes.

“You are all drunk. That’s the only explanation I can find,” you say, still choosing not to see what is right in front of you. “And I’m about to be the next one.”

You took just one sip before Quinn wrapped his hand around your glass and took it out of your hands. You were about to complain and ask him what happened when he shook his head, clicking his tongue. “We are not drunk, Y/n. And we don’t want you to be.”

“What? Why not?” You ask. “I promise I’m not that type of person who talks about their love life when they’re drunk. I might talk about Tik Tok memes, though.”

“That’s worse than talking about your shit ass love life,” Jack murmurs and you turn around to look at him with angry eyes. “What?” He asks, grinning, with his hands in the air.

“It’s not my fault I can’t find the right guys,” you sigh, resting your head on Quinn’s shoulder like you’re used to doing. “Why do men suck?”

“Not all of them do, sweets.” Quinn says, placing his hand on your naked thigh, making you blush faintly.

“We don’t.” Juraj murmurs beside you, and you hum.

“Well,” you say, measuring your words. “Unfortunately, I can’t have any of you. So, yeah, I still have the same problem.”

“Who said you can’t have any of us?” Juraj says, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows at him. “Or even better, all of us.”

There’s a beat of silence. The room is suddenly too warm for you, and even if you’re just wearing a skirt and a crop top, you still feel yourself starting to get sweaty.

The song is still playing, an unknown melody reverberating through the room, and what once felt big and spacious suffocates you now.

“You guys. You can’t be serious… right?” You ask, looking at each and every single one of them in the eye.

Jack is the first one to break the silence. “Come on, Y/n. Haven’t you ever thought about us like that?”

You can feel their eyes on you as you think of what to answer. You can’t say you haven’t— that would be a lie. You were loyal to Cole and you loved him, but you weren’t blind.

And now that you’re really thinking, these guys hadn’t been particularly sleek either; Jack with his obsession with calling you pet names, Quinn finding any and every excuse to touch you whenever you were in the same room and Juraj eye-fucking you from afar while you cuddled with his teammate.

So yeah, you have wondered about it before, but it all sounded so insane you didn’t think about it twice. The odds of all four of them liking you were pretty low, so why bother fooling yourself with these kinds of thoughts?

But now, you were sitting in the same room as them, with Juraj’s arm touching yours, Quinn’s hand running up and down your leg, and Jack’s eyes on you, like you were a prey or something similar.

“We can’t do that,” you whisper, trying your hardest to hold onto that single piece of sanity and morals you still had. “You guys are insane. Jack, Quinn’s your brother.” You reason, expecting to knock some sense into them.

Quinn squeezes your thigh slightly. “It wouldn’t be our first time.”

“Besides, it’s fine because we’re not going to fuck each other,” Jack says, like he’s telling you the sky’s blue. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“We are going to fuck you,” Juraj corrects, and you close your eyes, holding your hands together on your lap, trying to keep them still. “What do you say, chéri?” He asks, getting dangerously close to your neck, his strong, masculine scent making your head spin. His lips briefly touch your neck, the contact so light you wouldn’t feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of your surroundings.

Quinn’s warm, big hand is moving up, up and up, and that startles you.

You get up, panting as hard as if you had ran an entire marathon, and you stand in the middle of the room, surrounded by them. By your friends who had just asked to fuck you.

“I can’t— I can’t do this,” you whisper. “What about Cole, what about—”

“Sweetheart, Cole is probably balls deep inside someone else right now,” Quinn replies, and the others hum in agreement. “If you don’t want it because you don’t want to, it’s fine, you know we’d never force you. But,” he spreads his thighs, the outline of his cock is visible and right there for you to see. You gulp, not sure of what to do. “If you don’t want to do it because you still believe Cole deserves your kindness, then I have to say—”

“You’re being dumb,” Juraj finishes Quinn’s sentence, smirking. “You’ll be crying over one small cock when you have three waiting for you. It’s your pick, really.”

Your head is spinning and you feel aware of your body, which is something you hate. You can feel your arms and legs starting to give in, and to your absolute horror and panic, you can feel your underwear start to get sticky.

You walk towards the door, ready to leave, ready to put this night behind and pretend this was all a fever dream, and never think about this again. But, as you grab the handle, you know you won’t be able to forget this, not even if you wanted to.

So, you stop being a hypocrite, and grab the door’s key, locking the door once, and then twice, before exhaling and turning around again.

All three of them are staring at you, with the same expression; lust. It’s sinful and you are certain that you’re going to hell for this, but as you start to get undressed, right there, in the middle of the room, for all of them to see, you can’t help but feel like what you’re doing is nothing but right.

You remove your crop top, pulling the fabric over your head and dropping it on the floor, shivering slightly when the cold breeze hits your naked skin. You do the same with your skirt, letting it fall around your feet like a river, leaving you standing with only your bra and lace underwear in front of them.

“Fuck.” You hear one of them say, you’re not sure who, the word nothing but a whisper.

Juraj is the first one to get up, and get his hands on you. He’s rough, hungry and not careful at all, something you’re not used to but like it anyway.

His lips are on yours almost instantly, and his hands are holding you down while he licks and sucks your mouth. He tastes like some kind of candy you’ve had before, and your brain is screaming that what you’re doing is wrong, so wrong and that you literally just broke up with your boyfriend of two years not even thirty minutes ago but you can’t stop.

It’s maddening, it’s addictive and you want more.

It gets worse when you feel another pair of hands on your back, unclamping your bra. You hear a soft tud, which you can only assume is your bralette hitting the floor. Then, there are hands squeezing your tits, hands almost as rough as Slaf’s, and it has you moaning inside his mouth.

“So fucking soft,” you hear Jack say behind you as he gets closer, his hard dick poking your ass over your underwear. “Tits so fucking soft for us, baby.”

And he pinches both of your nipples, making you whimper loud and separate your lips from Juraj’s. There’s a saliva string connecting both of you and it makes you feel nasty.

He gives you a brief peck before gently slapping your thighs twice, silently asking you to remove your underwear, which you promptly do. You slide your lace panties over your legs, shyly throwing them away from you.

It’s only then that you notice Quinn staring at you from the couch, half naked with his dick out of his boxers— the thought of him getting off only by watching you makes you squeeze your thighs together, to stop your hole from clenching around nothing.

“Let’s get you wet and ready, alright?” Juraj says, manhandling you around like you were just a toy for him to break, until your back touched the cold, wooden surface of the table sitting in the middle of the dark room. You arch your back, pouting with the coldness and Slaf coos at you. “I’m sorry there isn’t anything more comfortable than this.”

“Like she cares about comfort,” Quinn snorts. “The only thing she’s worried about it’s whether she’s taking one or two cocks in that greedy pussy of hers.”

The humiliation Quinn’s words bring you is almost unbearable, yet it has you dripping anyway. Their laughs, the way they’re all staring at you like some piece of meat makes you feel hot all over.

Juraj lays you down carefully, only to spread your legs open with the same roughness he used before, when his lips were on yours. You yelped, feeling exposed and embarrassed— your bare, glistening pussy was on display for all three of them to see.

“Holy shit,” you hear someone say, Juraj maybe, and you cringe, hiding your face with your hands. “She’s perfect.”

“We’ll see about that,” you hear Jack say behind you and you remove your hands from your face. Suddenly, he’s sliding his pants down, his dick touching his covered abs as wraps his fist around his length, slowly jerking off in front of you.

You’re watching it in awe, even as you stare at him upside down, since your head is hanging off the table’s edge. He smirks down at you at the same time Juraj licks your clenching hole, making you moan for the first time, loud and involuntary.

“Ah.”

“Shit,” you hear Slaf say. “Pussy so fucking wet and sweet. Y/n, you’ll drive me crazy.”

You don’t answer; not because you don’t want to but because Jack places his hands on both sides of your cheeks, squeezing them together until your mouth forms the perfect O and he can slide his entire dick inside it.

He moans noisily as you gag on his long dick. It’s an unexpected feeling, to have your throat fucked like this— Cole wasn’t a big fan of messy, rough blowjobs— but fuck if it doesn’t get you wetter.

Juraj is still working hard on your pussy, licking your folds and throbbing clit, eating it with a loud slurp, the sound of your wetness making you close your eyes with pleasure and shame.

“Your mouth feels so good, pretty,” Jack moans behind you, still holding your head in place while he drags his dick through your throat. Your eyes are wet with unshed tears and you feel your mouth so full it is starting to hurt. “Almost as tight as a pussy.”

It’s overwhelming to try to manage the feeling of Juraj’s tongue and Jack’s cock on you. You feel warm, your hands are gripping the table like your life depends on it, and you can feel yourself start to slip more and more.

“She’s wet enough already,” Quinn states, and the fact that he’s referring to you like you’re not even there makes you whimper loudly around Jack’s cock.

Next thing you know, you’re being manhandled again; Jack’s rough hands leave your cheeks to hold your waist instead, taking you to the nearest couch and laying down with you on top of him.

You’re facing him, those blue eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n,” he starts, his tone gentle for the first time that night. You hum, adjusting yourself on top of him, until you have both of your legs on each side of his body, almost on fours on top of him, highly aware that Quinn and Slaf could see everything. “We are going to be rough.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“I’m not asking for permission, baby, do you understand that?” He talks to you like one would do to a child, using a tone so soft it could put you to sleep, if it were any other situation. You bite your lips, feeling Slaf’s long fingers sliding up and down your pussy, rubbing circles on your swollen clit while Jack speaks. “We are going to be rough. Tonight, you’re nothing but a toy for us to play with, alright? A hole for us to fuck.”

You nod, closing your eyes momentarily as Juraj pinches your clit, hard. He tugs it and it feels like he just placed a clothespin on you. It hurts so. Good.

“I need your words, baby.”

“I u-understand that,” you sob, hot tears running freely down your face as you continue to speak. “I w-want it.”

Jack chuckles, touching your face with care. “It would be so nice if we actually cared about what you want, huh?”

You bit your lip again, suppressing a loud moan. It would be even more embarrassing if they realized how wet you got every time they were mean towards you.

“Bitch gets wetter and wetter every time you say shit like that, Hughes,” Juraj says, and your entire face burns with shame, as you hide it in the crock of Jack’s neck. “Come see this shit, Quinn.”

You tremble as you hear a pair of steps echoing through the room, and without warning, you feel your hips getting lifted, just slightly, at the same time you feel two fingers being inserted inside deeply in your pussy.

You whine loudly, not even feeling pain with how wet you were. His fingers were moving around like you were nothing but a sex doll, making you hold Jack’s arm to steady yourself.

“Look at this tight, little thing,” Juraj says, twirling his fingers around, scissoring them inside you. “Merde. She’s milking my fucking fingers, bro.”

“I can see that,” Quinn hums. “Pussy so fucking greedy she’s taking you without complaints.”

You were about to moan again when Juraj removed his fingers from you, leaving you clenching around nothing, once again. “Let’s start, then.”

After that, it’s hard to tell what really happened. You were thrown around, and suddenly, Slaf was laying under you, Quinn was standing beside you and you assumed Jack was behind you.

You could feel one of them poking their cock through your slit, gathering all your wetness to use as lube. Then, he slowly started to insert it, the stretch making you whimper inside Slaf’s mouth, as he bruised your lips roughly again.

Jack had barely given you time to adjust to his length when you felt Juraj’s tip poking at your entrance too. You gasped inside his mouth, feeling his dick joining Jack’s inside you and.

Oh.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

You opened your eyes, glistening with tears, and stared at Quinn standing beside you, who was looking at you with fond eyes. He chuckles while staring down at you, taking his dick out again and grabbing it with his right hand, running the tip over your mouth.

The salty taste of his precum painting your lips white distracted you momentarily from the fact that Juraj was still trying to put his dick inside you, accompanying Jack’s.

But it wasn’t enough, of course— even if Juraj's thick, long fingers had stretched you, it didn’t compare to having both of their cocks inside you, together.

“Oh,” you heard Quinn coo. “She’s crying. Maybe she can’t take it?”

You shook your head immediately, not even acknowledging how desperate you looked. Quinn put his thumb inside your mouth at the same time Juraj completely bottomed out inside you, making you scream around the brunette’s finger.

“Sh, sh,” Juraj mumbled under you. “Take it, hm?”

The stretch hurt, yet you couldn’t ask them to stop— you felt so full and you swear you can feel them rearranging your guts, reaching so deep inside your body that if you were to look, you’d probably see a bulge in your stomach.

“Holy shit, man,” Jack moaned, dragging his dick slowly until only the tip was in, so that he could slam it back into you again. “She’s so fucking tight.”

“Move, Hughes.” Juraj hissed under you, and after that, everything fell into a pure state of lust.

Jack and Juraj slammed their cocks inside you rhythmically, like they were dancing a well rehearsed dance. Your body jolted forward as they pounded inside you, rough hands— you didn’t know who's— holding you by your waist and pulling your hair at the same time.

Quinn, who had just been jerking his cock while looking at you, decides to take the opportunity and shove his dick inside you, making you gag around his thick length.

“Shit, Y/n,” he moans, throwing his head back. “I’m going to wreck your mouth like they’re doing with your pussy.”

And he wasn’t lying. He tilted your head to the side and thrust his dick deep inside your mouth, until your nose touched his crotch area. You gagged, still not used to the reckless act, but you were far too gone to complain.

The room smelled like sex, lust and sin. The dark walls watched as you laid on top of Juraj’s much bigger body while you took their cocks in two of your holes, with your pupils blown and wide. Your face was destroyed, it didn’t need to be a genius to realize that; your mascara had smudged under your eyes and the tears had spread the black ink almost everywhere.

Your legs hurt, and so did your jaw, but the pleasure was bigger than any pain. You had never felt this dirty, this raw before, but you feared that after this night, you wouldn’t ever be the same; nothing besides them would ever be enough.

“She feels so good,” Jack says, voice filled with need. “She was born for this.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Juraj says, kissing your neck while you gagged around Quinn’s dick. “Born to take cock inside her tiny pussy.”

After that, you keep slipping and slipping. You come on their dicks at least twice, falling apart each time you feel your wetness coating their dicks.

Your throat is raw, your jaw is hurting, but Quinn is close to his climax, like his brother and Slaf.

Jack and Slaf are the first to come, both painting your walls white with their seed. It’s maddening, your belly feels full of them, but you don’t have time to acknowledge that properly, not when Quinn is also coming deep inside your throat.

You lay limp on top of Slaf’s broad chest, closing your eyes, tired.

But—

“Y/n, hey,” you hear Quinn calling, and you open your eyes, just barely. “Can you stand up, just for a bit?”

“Don’t let it go to waste, baby,” Juraj warns you, and you keep clenching even after they remove their dicks. It’s hard, you feel so open you should be disgusted at yourself but you still try to do as they said.

You feel a pair of hands lifting you, and you sigh, exhausted. They manhandled you until you were laying on top of the couch, head resting on your arms. A rough pair of hands— Jack’s— spread your legs open, leaving you exposed once again.

“Go on,” he commands, and you let it go, feeling their sticky cum pour out of your used, gaping pussy. You sob, feeling dirty.

“Jesus fuck.”

“I think I’m hard again.”

“Lowkey, yeah.”

You collapse on the couch once you feel like there’s nothing left, blacking out as soon as your head hits the leather.

𖧷

YOU WOKE up with a light touch on your cheek.

It takes a while for you to manage to open your eyes, but when you do, you thank whoever decided to put a yellow, warm lighting in that room.

“Hi.”

Jack’s voice brings you back to the present, and you lift your head, only then realising that you were in his lap, fully clothed— with clothes that weren’t yours— and covered with something heavy that felt like a blanket.

You frowned.

“What… what happened?” You ask, looking around. There was Juraj, who was placing a few takeout bags on the table, and Quinn, who was holding an old piece of cloth. “Oh my God.”

It was real. You fucked Jack, Juraj and Quinn.

“Oh my God,” you groan, hiding your face in Jack’s chest.

“I hope these exclamations of yours are because you’re wearing Zegras’ hideous clothes and not because you realized you fucked the three of us.” Jack says, sarcasm taking over his face.

“Why would we do that,” you mumble. “Gosh. That’s wrong in so many ways, I can’t even begin to—”

“Y/n,” Quinn calls you, dropping the cloth on the table— the same table Juraj had eaten you out on— and walking towards you, lifting your chin with two of his fingers. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I— Well— We—” you stumbled over your words, not sure of what to say.

He applies pressure on your chin, sapphire eyes squinting at you. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“I—” you sighed. “Yeah. I did.”

He smiled.

“Then we’re fine.” It’s all he says, before pecking your lips, briefly. It was your first time kissing him and you secretly didn’t want it to be the last.

“We liked it too,” Jack says once his brother lets you go. He winks at you, smirking. “I’ll never forget the sight of you full with my—”

You put your hand over his mouth, red as an apple. “Okay, alright, shut up.”

He chuckles, taking your hand away and kissing you, exploring your mouth with his tongue, just like his brother had done, barely two minutes ago.

“You guys are no fun,” you hear Slaf’s voice. “In my opinion, we should just keep doing this.”

“No,” you say. “This was a one time thing. We can’t keep fucking each other like this.”

“As I said, no fun.”

“She’ll change her mind in a few days, I just know it.” Jack says under you and you roll your eyes at his cockiness.

“I’m too tired to argue with you,” you say. “I smell Chinese food. Can we eat?”

“Yeah, we should probably do that,” Quinn says, nodding. “It’s late already. Let’s eat and take Y/n home.”

Juraj and Jack agree with just a few more complaints, and while you watch them take turns to feed you, you realize, with shame, that Jack was wrong about one thing.

It wouldn’t take a few days for you to change your mind.

You had already done it.

NHL MASTERLIST.

JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST.

QUINN HUGHES MASTERLIST.

[cowgirlvi]

mdni, sub bottom!vi, fem top!reader, vaginal sex, strap-on usage, rough sex, filthy

wc; 1,256

thinking about being ex-girlfriends with vi. since the breakup, you’ve heard numerous rumors about her getting around campus, taking girls out on sweet little dates and then fucking them stupid afterwards. it would normally bother you, except you know vi’s pent up, you know she’s not fully satisfied with the sex she’s having, because you know none of these other girls have put in the effort to fuck vi. 

you’ve yet to hear any rumors about these girls stuffing vi’s hole with their cocks, and you know it must be killing her. she’s always had a greedy hole, one that needs constant attention— whether it’s from your tongue, your fingers, or your strap. 

after seeing the types of girls vi has been taking out on dates, you know for a fact that they’re not fucking her— and even if they wanted to, they wouldn’t be able to fuck her right, they wouldn’t be able to fuck her like you do.

so you honestly find this whole situation funny, the way vi is so clearly trying to rub these girls in your face. you’re not falling for her bait, you’re not going to give her a reaction, because there’s nothing to even react to.

which is why you aren’t surprised when vi shows up at your doorstep a week later. her cheeks are flushed and her puppy-dog eyes are round and filled with a mix of conflicting emotions. you almost laugh in her face, but you’re quick to school your emotions.

clearing your throat, you say, “can i help you, vi?”

”i just— i feel bad about the way things ended between us,” vi replies. god, her eyes are so blue, so full of hope and desperation. she longs for you to fuck her, that you’ll finally make the ache go away, the one that’s been tormenting her little pussy.

”mmm, you do?” you tap your manicured nails against your front door, appearing bored and uninterested. “will that be all, vi?” you ask, already beginning to shut your door.

vi is quick to shove her hand against your door with a loud thud, pushing it open and then peering at you with eyes suddenly full of shame. “baby, i— fuck, i miss you, okay?” she finally admits.

you smile. you already knew that.

which explains how vi ended up in your bed, the pink sheets a ruffled mess, her clothes flung across the room, and her muscular frame a trembling mess on your mattress. she’s laying on her back, holding her legs up to her chest, her cute pussy on full display, and your strap is pressed inside her to the hilt.

you can reach so deep inside her in this position, you can hit all the spots that make her shake, that make her cry and scream. not to mention, the view of her cunt swallowing you whole, her fluttering hole drowning your cock in her tangy juices. 

you can see the desperation in every line of her body, the way she’s aching to be used. it’s a sight that would have once filled you with jealousy and possessiveness if anyone else were to see it, but now as you stare down at vi, all you want to do is laugh at her, to coo at how pathetic she looks.

”you missed me, huh?” you say, driving your hips forward with a rough thrust. “that’s funny, baby. i heard you’ve been keeping pretty busy.”

vi goes crosseyed when you slam against her cunt, a strangled moan escaping her pouty lips. “mmffuck!”

you run a finger along vi’s slit while keeping a steady pace with your strap, feeling the slick, warm heat of her arousal. vi shudders at the touch, her hips twitching forward slightly, seeking more contact. you giggle, knowing that no matter how many girls vi brought home, no matter how many times she tried to replace you... nothing could compare to this.

”fuck, baby, your pussy’s a mess. none of those girls knew how to take care of this greedy cunt, did they?”

vi immediately shakes her head, mindlessly moaning. “ahh, only y-you— it’s only ever been you— unhh— i swear!“

you know vi too well, you know her body better than vi knows it herself. you know that vi needs to be stretched, to be filled, to be used hard and fast and without mercy. and judging by the desperate— borderline anguished— look on vi’s face, you were right to assume that none of those other girls could give her what she craved.

vi’s feet bob aimlessly in the air, her legs spread as wide as her flexibility allows her to, and she looks like an easy whore— she looks like the type of dumb slut that would be desperate enough to beg some rando on the street to fill her up.

”poor baby,” you coo down at her. “you just needed me to take care of you all this time.”

”yes, yes, fuck! need you, uuuh—“

you relish in the desperation in vi’s voice. you know you have vi right where you want her, trembling and needy, craving the one thing no one else can give her.

the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by vi’s high, breathy moans and grunts. you know you’re hitting all the right spots, know that you’re fucking vi in a way no one else will ever be able to replicate. she’s stuck with you forever.

"fuck, baby... you're so tight," you groan, your hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. “your pussy is sucking on me so hard— mmf— can’t get enough, can you?”

her creamy pussy is hugging your strap like a vise and you relish in the way her body spasms around you. you know vi is addicted to this feeling, to the delicious mix of pleasure and pain that only you can give her, to the way you stir up her guts. it’s a high she can’t find anywhere else, a blissful oblivion that vi has been desperately chasing ever since your breakup.

you watch in dark satisfaction as vi’s tough, muscular body goes pliant and soft underneath you, all because she’s filled with cock. vi’s a fucked-out disaster; her abs twitching and flexing, her arms trembling as she tries to hold her legs back for you, her thick thighs quivering.

”ohh— hnnnggff! fuck, fuck, i’m gonna come!” vi sobs, her back arching harshly, her tits bouncing obscenely with every slam of your hips. her voice is raspy and she looks sinful.

you grip vi’s waist hard enough to leave bruises as you piston your hips impossibly faster, her wetness splashing between the two of you. vi’s eyes roll back in her head, her tongue hanging out stupidly as she surrenders to the intense pleasure radiating from her core. 

“come for me, vi. who knows, ah, if i’ll ever wanna fuck you again after this, so you better come right fucking now,” you threaten.

it’s like a flip switches within her because suddenly vi’s body seizes beneath you, as if she has no choice but to obey. she’s squealing and gasping as her body tenses and shakes at the same time, her thighs trying to close around you, but you’re quick to shove her legs back open; you’re determined to wring out every last drop of pleasure.

“mmffagh! holy fuuck— ahhh! yes, yes, please!”

it’s the most devastating orgasm of her life.

[beepbeepmfkr]

Well replies are restricted and that's a bit telling so time for me to be Annoying again :)

That's not how any of this works. And it feels like the replies are off so people can keep regurgitating this mindset so they feel better about their refusal to engage with a system that literally demands voter engagement to work on a substantial level. It's literally how it was made. No engagement or skewed engagement means skewed results. Pretty cut and dry.

Now. There's a few things to address here.

One. Executive orders are not bills. We are being flooded by what is essentially a Christmas List Of Shit The Executive Branch Wants Real Bad. The Christmas list is not real. The Christmas list will be challenged by the other branches of government and the Executive Branch might get a few throwaways from their Christmas list but they won't get the whole thing because that's not how any of this works.

Two - it feels slower when the Dems are in office because the Dems aren't sensationalizing every single thing they do and are instead just... Going about the system of democracy to put their plans in place. It takes longer to get things done when you respect the democratic process.

Also. Painting democratic terms as useless or as if they do nothing is just another way that far right groups drive wedges into the many groups that could ultimately keep them from power. It's not true. It's never been true. Go do a quick Google search and go see how many times we wound up with a right wing bastard as a president immediately after people complained about a "weak" democratic president. Seriously.

the last four years of democratic presidency has seen strides in environmental legislation, has seen civil infrastructure and social services bolster, has seen many of the executive orders that stuck around from Trump's first Christmas list overturned and done away with. They've done shit. People just don't know and don't care to know because it upsets the narrative that tells them they're actually so morally justified and pure for folding their arms and turning their noses up at civic responsibility like a toddler given a plate of brussel sprouts at dinner time. It's silly. It's childish. We walk around with too much access to knowledge for this level of willful ignorance to be This Common

[talulagrimm]

Soo I really should’ve posted this a while ago but I was waiting to get marks back for it. I don’t know what my unis policy is with posting assignments but I wanted to be safe rather than sorry.

So this tri one of my classes was on animation in video games and the assignment was we had to make ‘a game entity.’ What they expected us to do was to use pre made assets and just add code in unreal engine to make them playable.

Me being *normal* and *sane* pitched IN FRONT OF MY ENTIRE CLASS (I swear everyone at that university just knows me as the miraculous girl) to make cat noir and do ALL THE ANIMATIONS from scratch. Yknow like a moron.

They’re not my best work but time constraints. I picked cat noir over ladybug because I knew I could draw him faster (all those spots make me want to die) and his pre s6 design for the same reason, I know it better so I can do it faster.

The animations I made were an idle, jump, fall, run and attack. (Everything but the attack was mandatory to pass)

I drew some new buildings for the environment (but I mostly reused spring and a storm assets SUE ME I HAD TO CUT CORNERS SOMEWHERE) and made cat noir into a *mostly* functional video game character.

Now before anyone asks. No I’m not making this into a full video game. I did it for my university and that’s it. While it was fun, I do not have the time nor energy to start a project that big right now.

[munsonsmixtapes]

This could be just my hormones going insane but I just need a fix of Steve/eddie (or both) giving reader some loving cause all of her friends are having babies and she’s feeling a little bit frustrated it’s not happening with her. Either of the boys end up catching the vibes so they doo all they can to help our girl out and it sticks

What I would GIVE!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) grinding, breeding kink, creampie, mention of pregnancy, hurt/comfort, cockwarming

Having a baby isn’t something you’ve ever really thought about. Your life has always been so you haven’t really had the time, but as you’ve gotten older, you’ve begun to wonder if maybe you wouldn’t mind having a little one running around. You see the tiny little clothes when you’ve gone shopping and your heart bursts. At restaurants, you’ll see the cute little families and wonder what if that could be you?

Your baby fever get even worse when one of your close friends who just had her first child invites you over to meet him. The second she puts him in your arms and his tiny hand wraps around your finger, that's it. You just know you want one of your own. A little baby that you would raise until they eventually would venture out in the world on their own.

But that's all a pipe dream in your eyes. That would never happen for you because you’re single and sperm donors and adoptions can be tricky. So you're just stuck thinking about it for the rest of your life, just hoping, wishing that it'll miraculously happen.

You spend the whole drive home sobbing. You can barely even see through your tears, but you somehow make it home to your apartment that you share with your best friend, Steve. And for once, you hope he isn’t home, because there's no way you can tell him why you're crying. It'd be way too embarrassing.

So you wordlessly hurry to your room where you bury yourself under your covers as the sobs pour out of you. You feel so pathetic for crying about something like this, but you can't help it. It just hurts way more than it should.

There's a knock at the door and you're so glad that you locked it. You really can't talk to Steve right now. He just wouldn't understand. You know that he would be understanding and sympathetic like always, but this time, it would be even better if he was actually experiencing what you are.

"Hey, y/n," he says from the other side of the door and you can just imagine him with furrowed eyebrows, the look he always gets when he's upset. You know you've hurt his feeling by shutting him out, but this is for his own good. He doesn't want to have this awkward conversation with you. You're sure of it.

"I know you're upset about something so I uh, I made you that hot chocolate you like." He's so sweet that it makes your heart ache sometimes. What did you do to deserve a best friend like him?

You throw the covers off of you and make your way to the door. You unlock and open it to reveal Steve's sympathetic smile. He holds the mug out to you and you take it, taking a sip before heading back to your bed, Steve sitting next to you, but making sure to keep some space between the two of you.

Just like always, the silence isn't awkward between the two of you as you sip on your beverage and he just sits there. You set the mug on your desk then sit next to him again, this time to where your thighs are touching and you lean your head on his shoulder.

His arm wraps around your arm, his hand moving lazily up and down it as a way to comfort you. You can't help but let you mind wonder what it would be life if Steve was the father of your child. You're he'd be the perfect candidate, but you're sure that he'd think it was weird. His best friend wants to have a baby with him? That's definitely out of his comfort zone and you know it.

"You wanna tell me what's bothering you?" No fucking way. you're taking that shit to the grave. You've got to make something up, and fast.

"Just womanly stuff, you know how it is," you sniff, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks again. You do your best to try and pretend that your stomach is cramping and Steve is quick to pull you into his lap.

His rests is hands on the lower part of your stomach where he knows they get really bad and he begins to massage the area to relieve some of the pain. He always take sure good care of you and that's how you know that he would be a great dad.

You think about him doing the exact same thing when your stomach starts showing, talking to the baby and you suddenly feeling wet between your legs. You're staring to see Steve in a different way and you're not entirely sure how to feel about it.

"How does that feel?" He asks, looking down at you and suddenly, every single thought is replaced by your need to know what his lips feel like. They look like two pretty, pink pillows and you just can't stop staring.

“I’m not really cramping,” you tell him, feeling guilty that you lied to him. “I uh, I was actually upset because-well, because everyone around me is getting married and having children and I just-that’s what I want. I just want a family, Stevie.”

You look so heartbroken and Steve can see your eyes welling up again. He suddenly gets an idea, but he knows it’s crazy. When you mentioned having a family, clearly he wasn’t supposed to be in the picture. But now that it’s come to his mind, he can’t stop thinking about it.

He’d be honored to have a baby with you. He just knows you’d be an amazing mother, especially when he’s seen you with the kids in his family at different Harrington functions. Now that he’s thought of it, he can’t unsee it. Now he’s got to see it through. That is, if you agree. And why would you? The idea really isn’t something that he should be suggesting to his best friend, but what the hell?

“What if we had a baby?” He asks, his honey eyes boring into yours and you swear you just might melt. He’s so sweet sometimes that you don’t feel like you deserve him. He takes your silence as his answer and quickly tries to backtrack. “Just forget I said anything.”

“No, Steve,” you grab hold of his face in your hands, forcing him to look you in the eye. “I’d love to have a baby with you. Honored, actually.”

“You would?” His face lights up and you can’t help but laugh at how adorable he is.

“Yes,” you nod.

You move so that you’re straddling his lap while his hands rest on your waist. Shit, you’re really doing this and Steve can’t hide his excitement. This might be the smartest thing he’s ever done.

You make the first move, leaning down and bringing your face to his, slowly capturing his lips with yours. He's quick to respond, trying to match your pace as his lips move against yours. Yours are soft and he's convinced that this is the best kiss he's ever had. You know exactly what you're doing and he's just desperate for more.

Just as he melting into you, he feels you grinding against his crotch and he lets out a whine, already feeling himself getting hard. This has to be a record for sure. He lets you do what you want, loving everything you're doing so far.

His tongue slides into your mouth and he swears he's going to come just from hearing you. It's so hot and now that he's hearing it person and not on the other side of the wall when you pleasure yourself, he's sure it's even hotter because he's the cause of it.

“God, you’d look so pretty,” he sighs against your lips. “So fucking hot. And I’d praise you any chance I got.”

He’s saying all the right things and now you think you’re ready. You’ve-you’ve never done anything like this with Steve, but something about it feels so good, so right.

Your top comes off and it’s thrown to the side as Steve takes advantage of your now exposed skin. He kisses and nips at chest as you melt in his arms, mewling at every touch of his lips.

He slips the straps of your bra off of your shoulders and continues his kisses there, mixing in his lips with it as your hands grab hold of his biceps, digging your fingers into his skin.

“So fucking pretty,” he mumbles against your skin and you flush, feeling hot from both his compliments and his soft lips. “Now let me see you.” He unhooks your bra and pulls it away from your body to reveal your bare chest.

Your nipples are hard and Steve’s mouth waters as he thinks about how badly he wants them in his mouth. They’re practically begging for it as your back arches, moving your body from side to side, his gaze following you.

Without warning, Steve grabs hold of your waist and turns your bodies so your back is flat against your bed, him on top of you. He goes straight for your nipple, taking it into his mouth, giving it a hard suck as he pins your arms to the bed.

You gasp as the feeling and Steve continues, introducing his tongue as he licks and sucks on your nipple, one of his hands moving to massage the other one so it gets some attention as well.

Your back arches against his as a pretty moan falls from your lips and he takes that as an invitation to continue. He bites down hard and you mewl, your fingers gripping the bedding underneath you.

“That’s a pretty sound, baby,” he compliments as he pulls away for a split second. “Wanna make it again?”

“Please,” you whine and he goes in again with another as you let out another moan. Once you’ve reached your peak, he moves onto the other nipple, doing the exact same routine until you’re orgasming again, grabbing onto his shirt, trying to pull it off of him so you can proceed.

Steve’s shirt is off in an instant and he kisses his way down your torso slowly, giving your stomach special attention. He peppers it with kisses as he showers you with the sweetest words, wanting to make you feel special, to know that he really wants this and isn’t just doing it because he should.

“You’re gonna be such a great mother,” he starts off, pressing a kiss to the spot right above your belly button. “I’d be honored to raise a child with you.” Another kiss to the spot. “Fuck, I’m gonna love filling you,” is what he finishes off with before pressing a kiss to the spot right above your jeans. He then unbuttons them and you just now you’re a mess now, feeling your slick rolling down your legs.

Your jeans are off in an instant followed by your panties and Steve undressed himself before spreading your legs wide, lining himself up with you before slowly inserting himself. It’s a tight fit, but by the time he’s done with you, you’re going to be so loose.

His pace is slow as he takes his time, watching you so intently to make sure that you’re okay. You’re more than enjoying yourself, it seems as you moan and whine, your nails scratching down his back. Steve didn’t realize just how much he loves not using a condom, feeling every single part of you against him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he says as his thrusts pick up, moving even faster, inch by inch trying to get all of himself inside you.

“Haven’t done this in a while.” It’s at least been a couple of months.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll loosen you up in no time.” He’s pumping even harder and faster now, trying to get to a pace that the two of you will enjoy and continues at that pace as you respond positively.

“And look at that. You’re taking me so well.” He’s moving so fast now that the bed is squeaking underneath you, moving back and forth with every pump and you’re eating it up, needing feel all of him.

“More,” you whine and Steve just chuckles.

“Can’t go any faster than this.”

“No, Steve, more.” You grab hold of his hips and push him further inside you, bucking your hips against his so he gets the hint.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he winks. “Sure I’m not gonna hurt you?”

“I want you to. I just need to feel you. Want you to fill me.” You buck your hips again and again as the two of you work together, trying your best to get the other off.

He’s all the way inside you now and you can feel tears pricking your eyes as you can feel every single inch of him, so sure that he’s going to split you apart. Not that you mind. That would actually be the best way to go of you’re being honest.

“Taking me so well. Look at you, so close to coming. I can see it. Fuck, you’re beautiful. Gonna look even more beautiful with my baby. Gonna-“ his words are cut off as he reaches his own orgasm. He releases inside you and you watch him come undone, curling his head towards his chest as his eyes shut tight. His fingers are digging into your waist and you push his hair away from his sweaty face as he’s coming down.

He’s got just enough energy for little more. Just enough to get you there. He’s moving as hard and fast as he can, watching you come undone underneath him. You’re so pretty, the perfect mother for his child.

As soon as your orgasm is over, Steve lowers himself down onto, not even bothering to pull out because he just wants to be this close to you for a little longer. His lips find yours in a gentle kiss before he lays his head on your chest, your fingers running through his hair.

You spend the rest of the night like that before cuddling up in your bed, the two of you discussing baby names, deciding that neither of you care whether it’s a boy or girl.

Nine months later, you welcome your baby girl into the world. Steve is right by your side the entire delivery and seeing you hold her for the first time, he’s sure that you’re going to be an amazing mother and he’s so excited to navigate parenting with you.

[ravens-bird]

Yours to Keep - Sylus.

Pairing: Sylus x F!Reader.

Tags: Boyfriend Sylus, fluff, smut, kissing, fingering. this was supposed to be like soft sex (and it is) but I almost got carried away. Blame the man not me. Not Beta'd we die like Caleb. MDNI‼️

Nicknames used: Sweetie, Kitten, Sweetheart.

Note: Based on the prompt "Making love, except it’s on the bedroom floor" (link)

wc: 3.6k.

Sylus had long since stopped being surprised by your tendency to do random things on a whim. By now, he knew better than anyone to not question the little things that you did just because they felt right.

Like when you decide that having a whole block of cheese as a midnight snack was completely normal, or when you apply random products and make questionable concoctions in the name of skincare and then drag him into it while calling it a ‘spa day’.  

Sure, watching you Do Your Thing was quite amusing to him, but sometimes he wished he could take a look inside your head and Understand.

Case in point, he wasn’t sure why you were sprawled out on the plush carpet beside the bed, akin to a cat that curled up and napped anywhere it deemed a worthy spot. His red eyes flicker with quiet amusement as he stood in the doorway of the bedroom, watching you.

“You do know we have a bed and a desk in this room right, Sweetie?”

You don’t bother looking up, shrugging in response as you spread out your haul from the gift shop — a thick leather-bound scrapbook, three different types of decorative tape, a set of colourful markers — and Sylus stopped counting.

His eyes furrow. “What are you doing?”

You finally glance up at him, blinking at him as if he was being silly. “Scrapbooking? Duh.”

His lips twitch at the corners, though the sigh he lets out is equal parts amused and exasperated.

“I can see that,” his tone is dry. He straightens up, pushing off the doorframe as he saunters towards you, a little curious. When you pat the space next to you, urging him to join you, he doesn’t hesitate.

He lowers himself onto the floor beside you, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he leans his back against the bedframe, taking in the mess— ahem, the arrangement of art supplies. The carpet is warm, and the faint evening light streaming in through the window paints the room a warm gold.

You scoot closer to him, nudging the scrapbook towards him. “Wanna help?”

He hums in thought, reaching for one of the photos from the pile you'd set aside — probably to include in the scrapbook, he assumed.

It was from one of your first public dates together, taken at Café Destiny — with you striking a peace sign, half out of the frame, while the camera had caught him mid-sip, eyes on you instead of his drink.

He smiles, picking up another one.

This one was from the new year celebration, taken by the twins — you were beaming, while Mephisto perched on your hand, with a tiny white ruff around his neck — an imitation of the Grumpy Crow plushie, looking thoroughly affronted and a touch betrayed, with his head turned towards Sylus who was standing out of frame.

Sylus hummed in amusement, flipping through a few more photos. His sharp eyes softened as he took in the little snapshots of your time together — laughing over coffee, wandering through night markets, you dozing off on his shoulder in the back of a car after an auction. Most were candids.

He briefly ponders how much you might have bribed Luke and Keiran for these.

“You’re really into this, huh?” His voice is softer now, more curious than teasing.

You smile, turning back to the task at hand. “Of course. It’s our memories.”

There’s a warmth spreading through him that he doesn’t quite know how to react to. So instead of trying, he just picks up the Polaroid camera beside him, aims it at you, and snaps a picture.

The flash makes you startle. “Hey!”

His crimson eyes gleam with mirth as he shakes the developing photo in front of you like one would dangle a feather-toy in front of a curious cat.

Once it clears, he holds it up for the both of you to see. For a quick picture, it had come out rather well, but it looked a little silly - because he had snapped it right as you closed your eyes.

Your pout lasts all of three seconds before you’re giggling, reaching for the camera yourself. Sylus doesn’t resist when you take it from him, instead hooking an arm around your middle and pulling you to him.

You squeak at the sudden movement, instinctively grabbing onto his arms as he settles you into his lap with ease, resting his chin on your shoulder as he keeps a lazy hold on your waist. Trying to ignore the way your heart flutters, you lift the camera, angling it so both of you fit in the frame. “Alright, smile.”

Sylus huffs but obliges, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

You press the button, the camera clicks, and as the photo develops, you glance down at it with satisfaction.

“See?” you say, turning the picture toward him. “We look cute.”

You glance up at him, still in his arms, expecting him to study the image but instead he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You let out a small, surprised noise before melting into it, reaching up to touch his cheek softly.

When he pulls back, your smile is dazzling.

Sylus has always wondered how it would feel like for his heart to race — either out of fear or excitement. Lately, he’s been experiencing it often, thanks to you — though, oddly enough, it seemed to be due to a secret third thing.

Which was not much of a secret, anyway.

Everyone around him — at least, those he considered relevant — knew he was smitten with you. But still. His chest feels full.

So full that, when you giggle again, he doesn’t think — just shifts the scrapbook and the photos aside, guiding you gently down onto the carpet with him as the camera slides out of your grip, falling into the carpet with a muffled thud.

You let out a small gasp, eyes wide, as he flops you down, one arm bracing the back of your head as he mindlessly shoves the camera aside.

His name barely leaves your mouth before he’s pressing his lips to yours, fingers grazing your waist with his free hand. He kisses you slowly, deeply, and you lose yourself in his kiss, his touch, the scent and feel of him, that you forget entirely about what you were doing.

He pulls back a little and your breath is shaky as he nips at your bottom lip, before he swipes his tongue over it, soothing the sting. His hand slides up, cradling your jaw with a tenderness that makes your heart stutter. His thumb traces just below your eye, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing the shape of you.

His face is so unguarded, so open, that words fail you.

Sylus despised vulnerability.

The mere thought of giving someone that kind of power over him had always been unbearable. Not that it was a common occurrence or anything — but with you, it was different. You made it feel less like a weakness and more like something he could surrender to — something safe.

He may not always find the right words to tell you how he feels, but in moments like this, his touch speaks for him.

Desire sings in his veins as you tug lightly on his collar, kissing him again. When his tongue teases the seam of your lips again, you open your mouth, and the noise of satisfaction that escapes your lips has his ego soaring.

He was determined to drag out more such sounds from you.

He goes easily when you flip him over, relaxing under you as you straddle his waist, feeling the press of his hardening erection against your heat. He watches you with a quiet intensity as you settle yourself over him, taking the lead, and his sharp intake of breath when you roll your hips gives you immense satisfaction.

His hands trail up your thighs to rest on your hips. “I’d rather take the initiative,” he speaks, red eyes sparking. “But I must admit. It is quite nice seeing you on top like this sometimes, kitten.”

You roll your eyes playfully, tipping forward to kiss again. He sighs against your lips, squeezing your side in response, before his fingers begin fidgeting with the material of your shirt.

You splay your palm against his chest, right above his heart, while resting the other on his shoulder, letting him hold you up and his hand sneaks beneath your clothes, caressing the skin underneath. 

Before long, he starts moving his hips too, jerking upward to grind against you and you gasp into his mouth, and his responding groan sends a spark of desire straight down to your cunt, and suddenly, there’s just too many layers of clothing separating the two of you.

Sylus seems to be thinking the same, because when he tugs at the hem of your shirt, you pull back, pulling it off immediately so that the only thing covering your upper half is your bra. When you reach for the buttons of his shirt immediately, he chuckles lightly.

“You’re rather impatient today, Sweetie.” 

You ignore his comment, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing them off his shoulders, and the amusement vanishes from his eyes when you run your hands down his front, all the way down to the waistband of his pants. 

He sits up then, pulling you into him as he presses hot, wet kisses against your lips, your cheek, your jaw, and your neck, trailing down to the swell of your chest before he unclasps your bra in one quick movement, baring your breasts.

You feel a wave of heat wash over you, tinging your cheeks red — not in embarrassment, but because of the way he looks at you. His eyes rake over you slowly, and the quirk of his mouth tells you that he's enjoying it immensely.

That, and the way his cock hardens further underneath you.

His voice is a quiet rumble as he cups one breast and gives it a little squeeze, “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.”

“Sylus—” His name is barely out of your mouth before he rolls a pert nipple between his fingers, and you whine. “Stop teasing.”

He chuckles again, “Your wish is my command, kitten.”

And when he takes your other breast in his mouth, his wet, hot tongue pressing against your nipple, your nails dig into the smooth, pale skin of his shoulder. His shirt was shoved off one shoulder, resting at the crook of his elbow and the sight of him like this, with his mouth on your chest, a faint blush on his face, is truly one to behold.

Your fingers get lost in the strands of his hair, tugging at them as he worries the sensitive flesh with his teeth, when his right hand trails down to the waistband of your shorts. You lift your hips readily when he tugs, and he pulls back to slide your shorts off you with ease.

“So eager,” he murmurs teasingly, as if he wasn't the one who started all of this. You don’t get to retort, because his hand is on you again, rubbing you against the fabric of your damp panties.

Sylus's fingers ghost over the material, teasing the sensitive skin beneath, before applying just the right amount of pressure that sends a surge of warmth pooling low in your belly, and your breath catches in a soft whimper as he finally pushes your underwear aside, dragging his fingers up to circle over your clit.

When you buck your hips against his hand instinctively, craving more friction, impatient and a little desperate for him to just touch you properly, god damn it all, he gathers some slickness in his fingers, slowly pressing into you.

A delicious mix of relief and tension flooding over you.

He thrusts his fingers in and out slowly at first, and you moan at the sensation, clenching around him. when he curls his fingers ever so slightly, and finds that one spot that has you crying out and grinding into his hand, he picks up his pace. Soon, you start to feel the waves of pleasure heighten, and you wrap both arms around him, holding on.

When Sylus gently presses the pad of his thumb against your clit, keeping his pace steady as he breathes against your mouth, you could do little except cling to him, and you come hard, drenching his hand, lap and your panties as well as your thighs.

He flips you over gently, letting you rest on the carpet on your back and you immediately try to stop him. 

“We’re going to ruin the carpet—!”

“I don’t care about the carpet, Sweetie.” He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, pushing you back down gently. “Not when I'm on top of you.” 

He pulls your panties off easily, and you help him take his shirt off, running your hands down the swell of his muscles appreciatively, and gasp in pleasure when he presses his clothed erection against your core.

You reach down, palming him through the material of his pants, as he kisses you again, and with great patience, he kneads the softness of your body, running his hands up and down teasingly yet carefully, as if he was trying to etch the memory into his mind.

“Sylus, please.” You whimper, empty and needy, already starting to feel aroused again, and he caves, letting you unzip his pants and take them off along with his underwear. 

He reaches for the nightstand and takes a condom out. You bite down on your lip in anticipation as you watch him roll it onto his fully erect cock. Despite the number of times you’ve done it before, the Moment Before was always a little intimidating. 

He lines himself up at your entrance, breath quickening as he looks down at you, gaze soft yet burning with anticipation.

"Are you ready, Sweetie?" His voice is low, laced with desire and affection.

You nod, heart racing as he presses a gentle kiss to your brow as he begins to slide inside. Your breath hitches as he sinks deeper, burying himself to the hilt.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust.

You nod quickly, urging him to move. "Mmm, you feel so good."

"You're so tight," he breathes against your lips as he kisses you sloppily.

When he starts to move, your toes curl with the sensation and you wrap your legs around his waist. His breath shudders as he picks up the pace, and the wet squelching sounds of his dick sliding in and out of your cunt, paired with the sounds escaping you both, adds a layer of lewdness to the whole ordeal.

“Shit, you feel so good, Kitten,” Sylus’s praise unleashes a swarm of butterflies in your tummy, and you grip his shoulders harder, your head falling back. 

Just as you feel your climax start to build, Sylus slows down, making you whine but he merely hushes, uncurling your legs from around him and shifts.

“Patience, sweetheart.” Despite the commanding tone of his voice, his eyes and touch are gentle. But what you wanted was not gentle. Not right now. 

However, your protests are once again thwarted as he lifts your right leg up, pulling you closer by the hips, still inside you. 

You’re about to ask him what the hell was he trying to do — though you have an inkling as to what it is, when he slinging your leg over his shoulder and moves again, thrusting inside you. Deep. 

Your garbled moan gets a devious smirk in response, as he tilts his hips just enough, angling himself to hit your G-spot, his cheeks splotched red to match his eyes. Strands of light hair stick to his forehead, while beads of sweat dot his brow and temple. 

There are four red half-moons on each shoulder, from when your nails dug into him, and the half faded hickeys on his collarbone begs for attention.

He looks so sexy like this.

Your breath stutters as you catch his eyes, and the way he’s looking at you — the intensity of it, makes you wonder what you must look like to him. Naked and flushed, panting as your breasts bounced with the momentum of his thrusts, the sight of him moving in and out of your wet cunt… 

“Lost in your head again, Kitten?” The huskiness of his voice carries a hint of warning in it — something dangerous. “When I’m still inside you?” 

You quickly shake your head, but he’s unconvinced as his pace slows down yet again. 

“Sylus—” You gasp as he presses his thumb against your pussy again, rubbing your clit with just enough pressure for you to whimper. You try again. “Please.”

Sylus chuckles, low and dark, the sound vibrating against your skin. He watches you with sharp eyes, drinking in every little reaction as he drags his thumb in slow, torturous circles.

“Please, what?” His voice is a whisper of sin, teasing, coaxing. His hips barely move now, keeping you right on the edge, just out of reach.

You squirm beneath him, fingers digging into his arms, nails biting into his skin in frustration. He loves that—loves how desperate you get for him. But he’s not done playing.

“You get lost in that pretty head of yours so often,” he murmurs against the side of your calf, pressing a lingering kiss to the bend of your knee. “Maybe I should fuck you hard enough to remind you exactly where you are.”

His crass words send a shiver down your spine, anticipation crackling through your veins. Your breath catches when he pulls out nearly all the way—only to slam back in with a force that steals what little air you had left.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls as he turns his head to bite your leg slung over his shoulder, leaving an imprint on the skin, setting a brutal rhythm that has your body arching off the carpet, your moans spilling freely now. His fingers don’t stop either, overstimulating you and pushing you closer and closer to the ledge.

And this time, there’s no room for wandering thoughts—only him, only this.

Not that your thoughts ever strayed far from him to begin with.

But now, your mind is blissfully blank, lost in the waves of pleasure as your body tenses and trembles beneath him.

Your release crashes over you just as he continues his pace, dragging out every sensation, every spark, until he follows soon after — burying himself deep inside you with a low, shuddering groan as he too chases his high.

You sigh a little as he pulls out, feeling the sudden emptiness in you as he rolls off of you, laying next to you, breathing a little heavily. You both lay there for a moment, with you being drowsy after coming twice. 

You’re only half aware when he gets up to dispose of the used condom, and don’t protest much as he scoops you into his arms, holding you to his sweaty torso. 

He breathes you in, his lips ghosting over your ear as he whispers softly, "I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you."

And in the silence that follows, you feel your heart swell. The words come out before you can rethink them, breathless and full of warmth. "I’m all yours to keep."

Which is true. You don't think anyone else could quite make you feel the way he does, and anything else couldn't compare.

So when you smile, holding onto him like he’s your whole world, he finally understands why people compare love to the sun, the moon, and stars.

Because here, right now, having you in his arms—he has them all.

“Have you caught your breath yet, Sweetie?” His fingers rub lazy circles on your back as you nuzzle into his side. You hum sleepily in response. 

Then he chuckles, voice dark with intent. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Your eyes snap open. “Sylus, are you serious?”

He tilts his head, amused. “What? You look so pretty all wrecked like that. How could I resist?”

“No way! First, you interrupt my scrapbooking, and now you want to continue?” You scoff. 

“That’s not a no,” he drawls in response, before sneaking his hand down and giving your ass a quick, teasing squeeze. You yelp, swatting at him as he grins against your temple. 

“It is,” you wag a finger in front of his face playfully. “Let’s just clean up and get dinner already!”

Sylus sighs, clearly reluctant to let the... session end, but after a moment, he gives in. “Fine, fine.” He pushes himself up, then effortlessly scoops you into his arms, making you squeak, before he carries you to the attached bathroom. 

But as the warm water starts to stream down your bodies, his hands find your hips, his lips find your neck, and well…

Who’s to say that you both will only shower, though?

The night is still young.

Note: found the Praying Mantis position quite hot, despite its name being very... yeah. I think it's Sylus for me (get it??? 🤣)

Masterlist.

[elryuse]

Press Record

Julie X Male Reader

Tags : Record Sex, Naughty, Romance, Obsession, Cowgirl, Sweaty

Words : 2,813 Words

This Fic Is Dedicated to My Friend @Pizza_anon. Thanks once again For the Commission My Friend. I hope You Guys enjoyed it.

The first time Julie glanced my way, I felt it like a jolt of electricity. Her green eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto mine across the crowded dining hall. For a split second, her infectious smile flickered, replaced by something darker, more predatory. I should’ve looked away, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. That was my first mistake.

“You’re new, right?” she said, sliding into the seat across from me like she owned it. Her voice was low, teasing, and carried an edge that made my stomach twist. “I’m Julie. You’ve probably heard of me.”

I had. Everyone had. Julie wasn’t just a name; she was a reputation. The girl you didn’t cross, the girl who could turn your life into a minefield with a single smirk. But up close, she was magnetic—her messy dark hair, the way she leaned forward like she was about to share a secret, the faint scent of cherry lip gloss that made my pulse quicken.

“Yeah,” I managed, my voice steady despite the knot in my chest. “I’ve heard.”

Her lips curved into a smirk. “Good. Then you know not to waste my time.”

She stayed for exactly three minutes, just long enough to leave me flustered and confused, before disappearing back into the crowd. But that was just the beginning. Julie had a way of inserting herself into my life, like a storm I didn’t see coming. She’d show up at parties, corner me in hallways, and text me at random hours with messages that ranged from ”You’re cute when you’re nervous” to ”Don’t make me come find you.”

And then there was the night at her friend’s party. The night she pulled me into a bedroom, locked the door, and whispered, “Let’s film it,” like it was the most natural thing in the world. My heart raced, my hands trembled, and I should’ve said no. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because when Julie looked at me like that, with those piercing eyes and that devilish smile, I wasn’t just a target—I was something she wanted. And that was all it took.

Now, we’re alone in my dorm room, the air thick with tension. My roommate’s out for the evening, and Julie’s perched on the edge of my bed, her legs crossed, toe tapping idly against the floor. She’s wearing a leather jacket that’s too big for her, making her look smaller, more vulnerable. But I know better. Julie’s always in control.

“Let me film you,” she says, her voice low and steady, devoid of the teasing tone she usually uses. This isn’t a joke anymore. It’s a demand.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Julie…”

“Don’t ‘Julie’ me,” she interrupts, leaning forward so her face is inches from mine. Her breath is warm against my skin, and I can smell the faint hint of coffee on her lips. “You know you want to. You always do.”

“It’s not just about what I want,” I try, but she cuts me off with a sharp laugh.

“Bullshit. It’s always about what you want. You just won’t admit it.” Her hand finds my thigh, her fingers digging in just enough to make me wince. “You like it when I push you. You like it when I take control. Don’t act like you don’t.”

I want to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, but the words catch in my throat. Because she’s not wrong. Not even close. There’s something about Julie—the way she challenges me, the way she makes me feel alive in a way no one else ever has—that I can’t resist. It’s dangerous, intoxicating, and I know it’s going to end badly. But right now, I don’t care.

“Fine,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “But just this once.”

Her smirk returns, and she pulls her phone from her pocket, setting it up on the dresser with the camera angled perfectly. “That’s what you said last time,” she teases, sliding her jacket off and tossing it to the floor. “And the time before that.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I watch as she climbs onto the bed, straddling my lap with practiced ease. Her hands find my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin as she leans in close, her lips brushing against my ear. “Let’s see how loud I can make you,” she whispers, her breath hot against my skin.

And then she’s kissing me, hard and demanding, her tongue sliding against mine as her hips grind against me. I lose myself in the sensation, my hands gripping her waist as she takes control, her movements confident and relentless. I can feel the heat building between us, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it’s almost unbearable.

“Julie,” I groan, my hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. She responds with a low hum, her nails dragging down my chest as she breaks the kiss, her eyes locking onto mine.

“Say it,” she demands, her voice rough with desire. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” I breathe, my heart pounding in my chest. “I want you.”

Her smile is wicked, triumphant, and she leans in to kiss me again, her hands tangling in my hair as she moves against me. The sound of our breathing fills the room, mingling with the soft creak of the bedsprings as she takes what she wants, leaving me helpless to resist.

And then she pulls back, her eyes glittering with mischief as she glances at the camera. “Let’s give them something to talk about,” she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Before I can respond, she’s moving again, her hips grinding against mine in a way that makes my breath catch.

“Julie,” I gasp, my hands tightening on her hips as I feel myself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until I’m on the edge. She doesn’t slow down, doesn’t give me a moment to catch my breath, and I know she’s not going to stop until she gets what she wants.

“That’s it,” she purrs, her voice low and sultry as she leans in close, her lips brushing against mine. “Let me see you come undone.”

I don’t last much longer after that. The tension snaps, and I’m lost in the sensation, my hands gripping her hips as I spill inside her. She doesn’t stop, her movements slowing but not stopping as she rides out the aftershocks, her eyes locked on mine.

“Good boy,” she whispers, her voice soft and satisfied as she leans in to kiss me. But before I can respond, she’s pulling away, reaching for the camera and turning it off. “Now,” she says, her smirk returning, “let’s see who’s brave enough to ask what happened tonight.”

I watch as she slips her jacket back on, her movements casual and unhurried, like we didn’t just… like this wasn’t… I shake my head, trying to clear the fog in my mind, but Julie’s already at the door, her hand on the knob.

“Same time next week?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder with a smile that’s equal parts sweet and dangerous.

I don’t answer. I don’t need to. Because we both know I’ll be here just waiting for her. And she’d love that more than anything…. “You’re not that hard to figure out,” she smirks, turning the door open and walking out with not a care in the world.

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving me alone in the silence of the dorm room. My heart was still racing, my mind a chaotic swirl of desire, guilt, and something dangerously close to obsession. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t know how to feel. All I knew was that Julie had left her mark on me—again—and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to scrub it away.

The next week passed in a blur. I tried to focus on classes, on friends, on anything other than the promise of her return. But it was no use. Everywhere I looked, I saw her—her smirk, her eyes, her lips. She haunted me, even when she wasn’t there. And then, just like she said, she came.

It was late. The dorm room was dark, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside the window. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall, when the door flew open without warning. Julie stood in the doorway, her hair a mess, her eyes red and puffy. She looked wild, unpredictable, and more dangerous than ever. I froze, unsure of what to say, but before I could even think to ask what was wrong, she was on me.

“He fucking cheated on me,” she spat, her voice shaking with anger as she slammed the door shut behind her. “That piece of shit had the nerve to lie to my face, and I believed him. I actually fucking believed him.” Her hands were trembling, her chest heaving with every breath. She looked broken, but also furious—like a wounded animal ready to lash out.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even have time to process what was happening before she was in my face, her hands gripping the front of my shirt. “Do you know how that feels?” she demanded, her voice rising. “To give someone everything and have them throw it back in your face like it’s nothing?”

“Julie—” I started, but she cut me off.

“No. Don’t talk. Don’t say a fucking word.” Her eyes burned into mine, and for a moment, I thought she was going to hit me. Instead, she kissed me. Hard. Her lips crashed against mine, desperate and angry and raw. I could taste the salt of her tears, the bitter tang of her rage. She wasn’t asking for comfort. She was taking what she needed.

Her hands were everywhere—pulling at my clothes, clawing at my skin. I didn’t resist. I didn’t want to. There was something electric about her in that moment, something that made me forget everything except the feel of her body against mine. She pushed me back onto the bed, climbing on top of me with a ferocity that took my breath away.

“You’re going to make me forget him,” she said, her voice low and trembling. “You’re going to make me forget everything.”

I didn’t argue. I couldn’t. She was a storm, and I was caught in her chaos. Her hands tugged at the waistband of my pants, and within seconds, they were on the floor. She didn’t bother with finesse or foreplay. She was too angry, too desperate. She straddled me, her thighs pressing against my hips, and I could feel how wet she was through the thin fabric of her skirt.

“Julie—” I started again, but she didn’t let me finish.

“Shut up,” she growled, her hands gripping my shoulders so tightly it hurt. “You don’t get to talk. You don’t get to think. You’re just going to take it.”

And then she was on me, sliding down onto me with a gasp that sounded more like a cry of pain than pleasure. She didn’t stop, didn’t pause, didn’t give either of us time to adjust. She just moved, her hips grinding against mine in a rhythm that was as punishing as it was intoxicating. She was fucking me, but it didn’t feel like sex. It felt like revenge.

Her nails dug into my chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She was crying again, but I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or pain or something else entirely. Her body tightened around me, and I could feel every shudder, every tremor, every flicker of emotion that she was trying to drown out.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You’re fucking mine.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t even think. I just let her take what she needed, gave her what I could. Her body was slick with sweat, her skin hot against mine. The air in the room was thick, heavy, charged with raw, unspoken emotion. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against my ear, and I could feel her breath, warm and shaky.

“I hate him,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I hate him so much.”

And then she was coming, her body tightening around me in a way that made my vision blur. I followed her over the edge, unable to hold back any longer. She collapsed on top of me, her breathing ragged, her forehead pressed against my chest. For a moment, neither of us moved. I wasn’t sure if it was over, or if this was just another pause in the storm.

She lifted her head, her eyes meeting mine, and for the first time since she’d walked in, she looked vulnerable. “Don’t ever lie to me,” she said, her voice soft but deadly serious. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me.”

I nodded, unsure of what else to do. She stared at me for a moment longer, her eyes searching mine, and then she leaned in and kissed me. It was softer this time, slower, but there was still an edge to it—a reminder that she was in control, that she always would be.

“Good boy,” she whispered against my lips, and then she was pulling away, her body slipping off mine. She reached for her skirt, pulling it back on with quick, practiced movements. She didn’t look at me as she dressed, her face a mask of determination.

“Julie—” I started, but she cut me off with a sharp look.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice cold. “Just don’t.”

And then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her, leaving me alone in the silence once again. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my body still humming with the memory of her. I didn’t know what had just happened, or what it meant. All I knew was that Julie had blown through my life like a hurricane, leaving destruction in her wake, and I was already craving the next storm.

The first time she left, I thought it was over.

The second time, I knew better.

Julie had always been like this-hot, cold, here, gone. She never stuck around long enough to let things settle, never gave me a chance to ask what any of this meant. Maybe that's why I let it happen. Because I knew if I tried to hold onto her, she'd slip right through my fingers.

But she kept coming back.

The first time was a week after that night. My phone lit up at 2 a.m. with a single message.

Unlock your door.

And like an idiot, I did.

She didn't say a word when she slipped inside.

Just pulled me into her, fingers curling in my hair, mouth already on mine like she'd been starving for it. She never let me ask questions, never let me talk about what we were doing. She took what she wanted, and I let her.

It became a pattern.

Julie would vanish for days, sometimes weeks, and just when I started to think maybe I was finally free of her, she'd find her way back. A text. A knock on my door. A hand on my wrist when she caught me in the hallway between classes, her grip just tight enough to let me know she still had a hold on me.

And every time, I let her in.

Every time, I let her ruin me a little more.

But something was different now.

The first time she left, I thought she was running from me. Now, I wasn't so sure.

She started lingering after.

Not much-just a few minutes longer, just long enough to catch her watching me when she thought I wasn't looking. Just long enough to notice the way she hesitated before pulling her clothes back on, like she wanted to say something but didn't know how.

Just long enough for me to start wondering if maybe, just maybe, she was getting addicted, too.

Then one night, everything changed.

I wasn't expecting her. It had been two weeks since I'd last seen her, and I was finally starting to believe she was done with me for good. And then, out of nowhere, she was at my door, pounding so hard it made the walls shake.

When I opened it, she pushed past me without a word, her hair a mess, her hands trembling.

"Julie-"

"Shut up," she muttered, her voice unsteady. "Just -just let me stay."

And for the first time, she didn't touch me.

She didn't rip my clothes off, didn't press her lips to my skin. She just climbed into my bed, curled into herself, and closed her eyes.

And I knew, then and there, that I wasn't the only one craving the next storm.

She was, too.

And maybe-just maybe-this time, she was afraid of it.