#Diamond Cut Rope

[stirlingscornerblog]

Diamond-cut rope chains

One of the key reasons why jade diamond-cut rope chains are a popular choice among brides is their vibrant green shade. Jade, which comes in two types-jadeite and nephrite, is a rare and valuable gemstone. Jadeite, in particular, is highly prized for its rarity and vibrant color, making it a unique and meaningful choice for your engagement ring. Most jewelers will tell you to avoid treated stones as they can enhance the appearance of your stone but deteriorate over time.

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤFRIENDLY NEIGHBORㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Batboys x Fem Reader Part 1

☆⁠ HEADCANON : What If Bruce Find A Kid With Spider Powers?

☆⁠ NOTES : Reader have the same abilities as spiderman. She's 10 years old and a year younger than Dick. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You were on your way back home with a hefty diamond in hand—a steal worth more than anything you’d swiped before. Sure, it wasn’t exactly something a kid could sell at a pawn shop, but you weren’t stupid. You knew where to go, who to talk to. You weren’t scared of the shady underworld—it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

That was until the Bat and his little bird found you.

“Drop it,” a deep, commanding voice called from the shadows.

You froze mid-swing, perched high on a rooftop with the bag strapped to your back. Turning your head slightly, you caught the unmistakable silhouette of Batman. Next to him, Robin—a kid about your age—stood with his hands on his hips, looking ridiculously eager.

“Oh, hell no,” you muttered under your breath before shooting a web to the nearest building and bolting.

But they were faster than you anticipated. They cut you off at every turn. You snarled and swung as fast as you could, but a Batarang snagged your web mid-flight, sending you tumbling to the ground. Before you could recover, a pair of strong hands pinned you down.

“Let me go, you big asshole!” you screamed, thrashing wildly as Bruce cuffed your hands with some high-tech restraints.

“Not happening,” he replied gruffly.

“Language,” Dick added with an almost scolding tone.

And that was how you found yourself in this position. They tied you up like some kind of psycho, ropes binding your wrists and ankles as you sat in a chair in the Batcave. You didn’t make it easy for them, twisting and spitting curses like a feral cat.

“Let me go, you freak!” you yelled, thrashing as Bruce stood over you, arms crossed. “You think this is gonna scare me?!”

Dick stepped forward, trying to defuse the situation. “Hey, uh...bro,” he said awkwardly, his boyish grin in full force. “Look, I get it. You’re upset. But this place is actually kinda cool, don’t you think? Like—wow, are those real bats up there?”

You turned your glare on him, looking him up and down with a sneer. “Wow, are you real stupid or just playin’ dumb?” you snapped. “Do I look like I wanna talk about your creepy bat zoo?”

Dick blinked, clearly not expecting your hostility. But then he grinned again, undeterred. “You’ve got powers, huh? That’s pretty awesome. Maybe we could be—”

“Shut up, Robin Hood,” you interrupted. “I wouldn’t be caught dead hangin’ with some sidekick in a green elf costume. You’re embarrassing.”

Dick’s face turned red, and he fidgeted, unsure how to respond. Meanwhile, Bruce crouched in front of you, his piercing gaze boring into yours.

“You’re very...hostile for someone so young,” he said calmly. “Why don’t you tell me who you’re working with? That diamond you stole isn’t something a kid like you can sell on your own.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair as much as the ropes would allow. “Oh, sure, let me just spill my whole evil plan to the Bat Guy,” you drawled. “What are you gonna do, ground me?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened slightly, but he stayed calm.

Dick, meanwhile, was still fuming from your earlier insult. “You're such a bitch, you know that?” he blurted. “I was just trying to be nice!”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Aw, poor baby. Did I hurt your little feelings? Go cry about it, Boy Blunder.”

“He’s… feisty,” Dick whispered.

“That's a girl,” Bruce corrected flatly.

Dick blinked, his face going red as he stared at you. “W-Wait, you’re a girl?!”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “Duh, dumbass.”

“I-I just thought—”

“Yeah, yeah, you thought wrong. Congrats. Now SHUT UP!”

Bruce sighed. “Robin, step back.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Dick retreated reluctantly, glancing at you with a mix of irritation and curiosity. Bruce leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone. “Let’s try this again. Who are you working with?”

You spat on his face. “Your mom, bitch.”

That was it. Before you could blink, Bruce grabbed the ropes and hoisted you upside down, letting you dangle in mid-air.

“HEY! Put me down, you psychopath!” you yelled, kicking uselessly.

Bruce's jaw ticked. Without a word, he stormed off, leaving you hanging upside down like a piñata.

Dick stayed behind, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Finally, he managed, “S-So... uh... you... doing okay up there?”

“What do you think?!”

Dick winced, laughing nervously. “R-Right. Yeah. Of course. Stupid question.” He paused, glancing at the ropes holding you up, then back at your upside-down glare. “Uh, you're really a girl huh?” he stammered, cheeks red.

You stared at him, unimpressed. “Yeah...”

“Wow... That's so cool, I—I mean, uh, I know you’re a girl now! B-But before, I—I thought you were a... a guy. B-But not in a bad way! Just in a... ‘cool guy’ way! But now you’re, uh... y-you’re a cool girl!” He laughed nervously. “You’re different from other girls I’ve met, I mean, in a good way! Like, you’re cool, and, uh—”

“Please stop talking before I lose what little respect I have for you.”

“Right. Uh. Got it,” he mumbled, backing away slowly. “I’ll, uh... just... be over here if you need anything! Or, uh, don’t. That’s cool too...”

You groaned, closing your eyes. “Kill me now.”

“Y-You don’t mean that, right?” he asked nervously, his voice cracking slightly.

“Robin.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“R-Right. Shutting up now.”

The next day, Bruce returned with new information. He sat in front of you, untied this time but still under his watchful gaze.

“I know why you’re stealing,” he said simply.

You stiffened, your usual bravado faltering for a moment. “Yeah? Good for you.”

“Your mother has cancer,” he continued. “And you’re trying to take care of her and your siblings. That’s a lot for someone your age.”

Your throat tightened, and you clenched your jaw. Your blood ran cold. “You leave them out of this.”

Bruce’s expression softened ever so slightly. “Don't worry. I’m going to help them. But you have to stop stealing.”

You blinked at him, suspicious. “Help?”

“A house, medical care for your mom, clothes, food—everything you need.”

You clenched your jaw, tears threatening to spill. You wouldn’t let him see you cry. “Why would you help me?”

“Because I can.”

For once, you were speechless.

True to his word, Bruce Wayne—Batman—changed your life. He bought your family a house, new clothes, paid for your mother’s hospital bills and now you and your siblings going to school. You didn’t know how to thank him. So, you didn’t. Not right away.

One night, two years after Bruce first caught you, you climbed through his window at the Manor. He had just returned from patrol, removing his cowl when he saw you.

“The new clothes suit you,” he said, his usual gruffness tinged with something softer. “You look...lovely.”

Your face heated. You looked away, fiddling with the pink clip in your now longer hair. "Thanks," you mumbled, then, after a pause, "I… I wanted to say… thank you. For everything." You shifted uncomfortably, still not used to feeling like someone actually cared about you.

"No need," he said.

Bruce smiled, and there was something in his eyes that made your chest tighten. Then, without thinking, you blurted out, “Can I join you? In... whatever this is. I mean, you’ve helped me. So… it's only make sense if I do the same, right?”

Bruce studied you for a long moment before nodding. “We’ll see.”

And for the first time you smiled back.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— SIDE HEADCANON ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[yandere-wishes]

༺ 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒹𝑜 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐵𝓇𝓊𝒸𝑒 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒟𝒶𝓂𝒾𝒶𝓃'𝓈 𝒸𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝑜𝓃 𝒞𝒶𝓇𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁? ༻

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

The problem with bats is that they tend to solely rely on their instincts, their carvings. They tend to forget their surroundings, that other creatures exist as much as they do.

Selina rings her arms around your frame pushing you closer, nose nuzzling your ear and cheek. Her hug only loosens when she hears the bat speak his echolocation ringing clearly through her ears.

"Daimian brought her home last, he's...he has a crush, I think."

Wasn't there some sort of new bat-eating fungus discovered in the north?

For a moment she debates asking Oswald to export in a batch or two.

"It's inevitable," Selina says, laying a bowl of food at the foot of the counter for the cats. Exhaustion seeps through her words, she speaks from experience, experience too deep to voice. "Bats are tenacious rodents, and robins are hard to kill. Mix that with demons blood and I'd say we're just about doomed." Your eyes stare up at her, even sideways, and anxious she's gorgeous. You'd always dreamed you'd grow up to be her. Inherit the claws and whip and lust for the endless shimmer.

But you're starting to think you'll never make it to that.

Not with the bird, who shows affection by breaking bones and spilling blood.

Selina doesn't like it, not fully, not utterly. She doesn't trust the boy wonder, doesn't trust a future she can not see. The boy is young and overbearing, he'll only end up trapping you within a glittering cage. Domesticating the girl he loves, satiating her by handing her pearls and diamonds and gold. He won't let her take, won't let her bleed for own life. She's seen one too many men like that, she's escaped every one of them. The bat may believe in freedom but his heir does not. And after all this time, all these years she refuses to let your sovereignty be stripped of you.

Be silent thy traitorous voices screaming sanguinity inside her wry head.

Voices that utter such affirmations, that say this is destiny, that this too must happen. Who safer than the son of the bat, the blood son at that? Freaks stick to freaks, masks, and capes, and cowls. Selina would never trust a normal man to treat you the way you deserve...

But she knows a Wayne never could either...

Selina watches as the Boy Wonder's kick nests in between your ribs. He wasted no time, swinging straight for you. Your body tumbles back, finally gaining enough momentum to filp landing on your feet, knees bent ready to pounce. Your claws tear through the flesh of his cheek, scrapping up the skin, freeing the red letting it mar the concrete. But the bird only slithers in closer, pecking your lips before, slamming his head into yours. Selina's eyes land on the bat, the darkness at the ledge, he stands immobile, as if actually watching a cat and bird fight, as if thinking this is nothing more than a cartoon playing at the drive-through theater.

She extends her whip, lashing it through the air letting the leather coil around Damian before pulling him away. The demon boy shrieks in anger, he kicks, and writhes vying for freedom. You land behind your mentor, hiding behind her. For the first time ever Selina is almost sorry her suit is so tight, sorry she can't provide more shelter.

"Can you please keep this one a leash, bats? It's starting to annoy my kitten."

Batman doesn't say anything, he only cuts away the rope and drags his son away.

"Aren't bats just rodents?" You ask arms crossed as you finally crawl out of your temporary sanctuary.

"Yes, why?" It takes Selina another moment before she finally tears her eyes away from the disappearing silhouettes in the skyline.

"So why haven't we just killed them?"

It's only back in the apartment that both you and Selina realize he took your stolen jewels too.

Selina curses she really liked that new necklace.

This could all be a cruel joke, Bruce thinks as he watches Damian sulking on his bed, arms crossed. Robin suit still on.

After all, what's funnier than the son you unknowingly sired with your ex-lover falling so madly in love with the adopted daughter of your complex midnight affair, who you may or may not be madly in love with...

Bruce can't think of one,

He doesn't even think Joker could come up with anything better.

Or worst.

He's too tired to fully tell.

"Hey, Bruce?" Tim asks, poking him with the sharp end of a frame. "Can you hand him this when he's done brooding? I'd go in but I need my bones intact for the next few days." Bruce sighs, taking the frame from Tim and inspecting it with worry. Sure enough, it's a picture of you crouching in an ally, stalking some prey or another.

He can't help but think his sons are progressively getting worse.

Regardless Bruce leaves the frame in Damian's room.

When he closes the door a little pride bubbles in his chest.

Bruce knows that freaks stick to freaks.

Masks, and capes, and cowls.

Who better to understand you than another who wears your endeavors?

Who can love an anomaly if not for another anomaly?

Bruce leaves, missing how the young heir, gently kisses your photo.

Running his hands across your photo, muttering a silent, simple 'I love you'.

Damian pricks his finger on his tooth.

Drawing a bloody heart around your face.

"You'll be mine my love" he promises.

He swears it on his cape and cowl.

He swears it on his lineage.

Tumblr keeps eating my asks when I try to answer 😭😭

But anyway heyy Anon, so to answer your question:

Selina is torn because she wants you to be free and live the life you want. This includes picking who you fall in love with and how the two of you spend your lives together. She finds Damian's obsession annoying, if not dangerous. She knows he'll try to "domesticate" you, to make you into nothing more than his doll. And really she just wants to buy you as much time as possible to be free. However, she also knows, deep down, that the only person who can really understand you is another "freak" whether a rogue or a hero. Someone who knows what it's like to wear a second skin. She just really wants you to pick who that "freak" is.

Bruce on the other hand is simultaneously proud and amused. A part of him really really understands why Damian would fall in love with Catgirl. It just goes to show how similar Damian is to him. A chip off the old block if you will. He also shares both Damian's perspective of seeing this all as legacy, as passing on the torch, feeling like in a way Damian is really ready to step in as the next Batman if need be. He however also shares Selina's perspective of "freaks" being with "freaks", really approving of his son falling for someone with obsessions and desires, someone twisted like they are.

[hoe4hotchner]

aaron x supermodel reader?? 👀👀

Mystery man | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Supermodel!reader | WC: 1.9k | CW: Fluff, reader is wearing lingerie in a picture at one point

The relentless flashes of cameras were nearly blinding as the black town car came to a halt in front of the venue. You took a moment to steady yourself, exhaling softly before stepping out into the chaos. The city was alive tonight, the buzz of Paris Fashion Week crackling in the evening air like electricity as journalists, media outlets, paparazzi's, and so on had gathered around the velvet ropes to the red carpet.

As you swung one long leg out of the car, the delicate fabric of your gown cascaded in shimmering ripples around you. The dress was a masterpiece—silk that seemed to flow like water, catching the thousand lights with every movement. Diamond earrings glinted against your skin, and your heels—custom-designed, of course—clicked against the cobblestones as you straightened to your full height.

The crowd outside erupted into a frenzy the moment they spotted you, shouting your name in a symphony of accents, the occasional “over here!” cutting through the noise. You didn’t flinch, didn’t falter; you were used to this. It was your stage, and you owned it.

But tonight wasn’t just about you.

You turned, holding out a hand, and watched as he stepped out of the car.

Aaron Hotchner.

Even in the middle of the whirlwind, he exuded a calm authority that made heads turn. The black suit he wore was impeccably tailored, the kind of understated elegance that spoke volumes without trying too hard. You had insisted on having the designer of your attire make something for him too—for the occasion you'd shrugged.

His dark eyes scanned the crowd, not with the excitement of someone dazzled by the spectacle, but with the sharp awareness of a man—an agent—who didn’t miss a thing.

For a moment, you wondered what he was thinking. If he felt out of place or if he was regretting saying yes to your impulsive invitation. But when his gaze shifted to you, the faintest trace of a smile curved his lips, and any doubt disappeared.

You reached for his hand, and when his fingers closed around yours, the crowd’s focus shifted instantly.

“Who is that?”

“Is that her date?”

“Oh my God, he’s hot!”

“Someone get a name!”

The whispers grew louder as the two of you began walking toward the beginning of the carpet. Hotch’s presence next to you was a contrast to your usual presence at these events. Normally you would've given the cameras a little pre-show, before heading inside to get dressed in the collection of the evening.

And where most people—even celebrities—might have preened for the cameras in the slowest way possible, he simply carried himself with confidence, his free hand brushing against the edge of his jacket.

When another wave of flashes erupted, he leaned in closer. “This is... different,” he murmured, his voice so low you could feel it more than hear it.

You glanced up at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Different good or different bad?”

He gave you a look—half exasperated, half amused. “Let’s just say I’m starting to understand why you always come home exhausted after these things.”

Your laugh turned brighter, drawing even more attention from the photographers. “Welcome to my world, Agent Hotchner.”

The questions from the crowd grew more pointed. Someone yelled, “Are you two together?” while another voice called out, “Is this your boyfriend?”

Aaron’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over yours as if to steady you both. You could feel his discomfort at the attention, but he didn’t let it show outwardly.

As you approached the gilded double doors of the venue, you slowed, tilting your head toward him. “They’ll figure out who you are by tomorrow,” you said softly with a teasing tone.

He raised a brow. “Is that a warning?”

“More like a promise.” You smiled, squeezing his hand before leading him inside.

Once the heavy doors shut behind you, the noise from outside faded into a muffled hum. Aaron exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he looked around the space.

“Now that,” he said, meeting your gaze, “was intense.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, stepping closer to fix his tie, which had shifted slightly during the commotion. “And it’s only the beginning.”

The sun had barely begun to stream through the blinds of Garcia’s apartment, casting a soft, golden hue across her kitchen. She hummed quietly to herself, a melody she’d picked up from the latest show she had managed to binge between cases, as she went about her morning ritual.

Her bright pink robe swished around her as she moved. Everything in her kitchen had just as much personality as her; from the gleaming chrome appliances to the rainbow of coffee pods stacked neatly by her machine.

She hit the button for her usual shot of espresso, the familiar whirring sound filling the room as she reached for her favorite mug—a ceramic cat face with ears that doubled as handles and then turned to her fridge to gather all the fixings.

Her TV, mounted in the corner of her living room and perpetually tuned to a morning show, prattled on in the background. It was her morning white noise, the kind of chatter she half-listened to while focusing on more important things, like perfecting her froth-to-espresso ratio.

“...Paris Fashion Week turned heads last night with more than just couture,” the announcer’s voice chimed, accompanied by upbeat music. “A surprise appearance by a supermodel and her mysterious companion has everyone talking this morning.”

Garcia paused mid-pour, her interest piqued. Her gaze flicked to the screen, where a paparazzi photo filled the frame.

She squinted.

The image showed a stunning figure draped in a flowing gown, her hand firmly clasped in a man’s. His face wasn’t entirely visible, but his strong profile and familiar suit cut made Garcia gasp.

“No. Freaking. Way,” she whispered, her coffee momentarily forgotten.

The announcer continued, the screen now displaying the bold headline:

Supermodel Spotted With Mystery Man at Paris Fashion Week!

The next photo zoomed in on the man’s face, his stoic expression unmistakable.

“Oh my God,” Garcia said louder, her hand flying to her mouth. “That’s Hotch!”

The caption beneath the image confirmed it, sending her brain into overdrive: Mystery Man Identified as Aaron Hotchner, FBI Unit Chief.

Her half-made latte was abandoned on the counter as she scrambled for her phone. “This is not happening. This is not happening,” she muttered, her fingers flying over the screen until she found the contact she needed.

The phone barely rang before Derek Morgan’s voice came through, groggy and unamused. “Garcia, it’s not even eight, Hotch is away there's no need to wake up this ear—”

“Did you see it?” she blurted, cutting him off.

“See what?”

“Our boss!” she shrieked, pacing the length of her kitchen. “Hotch! He was at Paris Fashion Week! Holding hands with a supermodel! It’s on every channel!”

There was a pause, followed by Morgan’s skeptical laugh. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Hotch? Our Hotch?”

“Yes, our Hotch! The Aaron Hotchner! He’s on TV right now looking like James Bond at a runway show!”

Another pause, and then Morgan’s full-throated laugh rumbled through the line. “This I gotta see. Send me the link.”

Garcia was already snapping a picture of the TV screen, muttering under her breath. “I can’t believe this. He’s going to walk into work on Monday like nothing happened. Nothing happened!”

Morgan’s voice was rich with amusement. “Think he’ll bring her to the office?”

“Oh, don’t even joke,” Garcia groaned, dramatically flopping onto her couch. “This is going to be the topic of gossip for weeks. Months. Years! I need answers, Derek. Answers!”

Morgan’s chuckle softened. “Good luck getting any. You know how tight-lipped he is.”

Garcia sighed, already plotting her strategy. If anyone could get the inside scoop, it was her.

The streets of Paris were alive with the afternoon bustle as busy Parisians were heading home after a day's work. The sunlight streamed through the wrought-iron balconies and cast warm patterns on the cobblestone streets as the sun started to set. You sat at a small café table nestled in the corner of a quiet terrace, the scent of freshly baked croissants and strong espresso mingling in the air. Across from you, Aaron was the picture of peace, a man who seemed utterly unbothered by the flurry of attention he’d unwittingly garnered in just one night.

On the small table between you sat a glossy gossip magazine, its cover adorned with a candid shot of the two of you from the night before. The headline practically screamed: Supermodel’s Mystery Man: Who Is He? FBI Unit Chief Turns Heads at Paris Fashion Week!

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and bubbling as you traced a finger over the grainy image of Hotch, his sharp profile and protective grip on your hand immortalized in print. “They’ve already printed it,” you said, your tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

Aaron leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. His phone buzzed incessantly on the table, the notifications relentless, but he didn’t so much as glance at it. Instead, his focus remained entirely on you, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

“They’re calling you a ‘mystery man,’” you teased, flipping the magazine open to the full-page spread inside. The photos captured every angle of the two of you from last night—the hand-holding, the shared smiles, the way he had leaned in to speak to you amidst the chaos of flashing cameras.

“And here’s my personal favorite,” you added, pointing to a particularly flattering shot of him looking utterly smitten as you had walked down the runway in a set of silver lingerie.

Hotch’s dark eyes flicked to the image before returning to yours. “I think I prefer to keep them guessing,” he said, his voice was warm, he knew that wouldn't be the case. He reached for his coffee, the faintest trace of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Hmm,” you mused, tilting your head as you studied him. “Not sure your team agrees.” You nodded toward his phone, which buzzed again with what had to be its twentieth alert in the last ten minutes.

He sighed, a sound more affectionate than exasperated, and finally picked up the device. “Garcia,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he read a series of increasingly unbelieving messages. “And Morgan,” he added, his smirk deepening.

You rested your chin in your hand, grinning at him. “I told you they’d find out.”

Hotch set the phone back on the table without responding to the messages, his gaze softening as it met yours. “Let them talk,” he said simply, his voice carrying the conviction you adored. “Right now, I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Your chest warmed at his words, and you leaned forward, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Good,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Because I wouldn’t want you anywhere else.”

For a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, the noise and chaos of the city fading into the background below.

“Though,” you added, breaking the moment with a mischievous smile and a wink, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you on next year’s cover of GQ. You know, for the sake of balance.”

Hotch chuckled, the sound so utterly endearing, as he shook his head. “Let’s not get too carried away.”

[pucksandpower]

Sea Cows and Koalas

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: Oscar just wants to impress his girlfriend, but those stupid sea cows keep stealing your attention

The South Florida sun beats down mercilessly as Logan’s sleek speedboat cuts through the turquoise waters of Biscayne Bay. Oscar leans back, soaking in the warmth and salty sea breeze while fiddling with the wakeboard bindings. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches you gazing wistfully over the side of the boat, peering into the depths.

“Looking for something, babe?” Oscar asks with an amused grin.

You turn towards him, eyes lit up with anticipation. “Manatees! I read they’re really common around here.”

Logan chuckles from the driver’s seat. “Good luck spotting one. Those sea potatoes are sneaky.”

“Sea potatoes?” Oscar snorts. “Is that an American thing?”

“What can I say? They’re fuzzy and they float.” Logan winks at you. “Like your man’s ego after a few drinks.”

“Hey!” Oscar reaches over to playfully shove Logan’s shoulder. “I’ll show you who’s all fluff out there.”

With a devilish smirk, he secures the final binding and stands tall, wakeboard in hand. Logan revs the engine, kicking up a spray of saltwater that has you giggling. Oscar shoots you a roguish wink before plunging into the azure waves.

Moments later, the corded rope connecting Oscar to the boat grows taut. He rockets out of the water, carving through the air with effortless grace. A wide grin spreads across his face as the wind whips through his hair.

“Woohoo!” Oscar hollers, riding the wakes with the confidence of a seasoned pro. He slices through the swell, spraying diamond showers that glisten in the sunlight.

You watch in awe, your face bright with adoration. But then something in the water catches your eye — a gray shape moving just below the surface. You gasp, scrambling to the edge of the boat and nearly tumbling overboard in your excitement.

“Manatee! I see one!”

Oscar’s brow furrows in confusion at your sudden outburst. His distraction costs him, and with a yelp he loses his edge, slamming into the unforgiving surface in an unceremonious belly flop.

Logan cackles, easing back on the throttle as Oscar bobs up, sputtering saltwater and treading water in a daze. “Smooth moves, Pretty Boy!”

Your face falls as the manatee disappears into the depths once more. “Oh no, I missed it!”

Oscar doggie paddles over to the boat, his ego more bruised than his body. “You just had to get distracted, didn’t you?” He grumbles, reaching up with pleading eyes. “A little help here?”

You bite your lip, trying to stifle a giggle as you grab his outstretched hand and haul him aboard with a grunt. Oscar flops down beside you, leaving a puddle on the immaculate deck. Water streams from his hair and board shorts as he shoots you a petulant glare.

“Really? Sea cows over me?”

You can’t help but laugh at his childish pout. “Oh, don’t be such a baby! You were amazing out there.”

“Was I?” An impish grin plays across Oscar’s lips as he inches closer, leaving a trail of water in his wake. “Prove it.”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you into a sopping wet embrace. You squeal in surprise as the cold lake water seeps into your clothes.

“Oscar! You’re getting me all wet!”

“That’s the idea,” he murmurs, drinking in your flushed features.

Logan shakes his head in amusement. “Get a room, you two.”

Oscar is only too happy to oblige, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steams up the air around you. His fingers tangle in your damp hair as the passionate embrace deepens, banishing all thought of manatees or wakeboarding from your mind.

At least until a crashing wave erupts nearby, dousing you both in a shock of frigid saltwater. You yelp, breaking the kiss with a sputter while Oscar sits back with a sheepish grin.

Logan cackles from the helm. “Easy, lovebirds! There’s no lifeguard on duty.”

You shoot the American a playful glare, then turn back to your breathless boyfriend. Tenderly, you brush a stray lock of dripping hair from his brow, cradling his chiseled jaw in your palm.

“You know, as fun as watching you show off is ...” You lean in until your lips brush tantalizingly against the sensitive skin just below his ear. “I prefer my Oscar humble and pliant.”

A visible shiver races down Oscar’s spine as your breath ghosts over him. He swallows hard, brown eyes darkening with unspoken desire. “Your wish is my command.”

You can’t help but smirk at how easily he surrenders to your whims. With a soft giggle, you trail a line of feather-light kisses along the sharp line of his jaw, relishing the way his breath catches in his throat.

Logan lets out an obnoxious whistle. “Alright, alright! Keep it PG over there!”

Reluctantly, you pull away, leaving Oscar dazed and slightly flushed. He watches you with a wistful smile as you return your gaze to the gently lapping waves, ever vigilant for signs of the elusive sea cows.

The hot sun soon dries the lingering drops clinging to Oscar’s reddening skin. He leans back with a contented sigh, idly toying with the wakeboarding rope while studying your rapt profile. The salty ocean breeze tousles your hair in an enchanting dance that has his chest swelling with unabashed adoration.

How did he ever get so lucky?

Oscar isn’t sure how long he sits there mesmerized before Logan’s laughter shatters the peaceful reverie.

“Hate to break it to you, man, but I think your girl likes manatees more than you!” Logan teases, slapping the throttle with a cheeky grin.

Oscar blinks, bemused, until he follows Logan’s gaze to you — still transfixed on the glassy waters below. A fond smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Of course you would fall under the spell of such gentle, unassuming creatures. His beautiful weirdo.

With a dramatic huff, Oscar flops down beside you, draping his head in your lap and batting his lashes up at you imploringly.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He asks in an exaggerated sulk. “When did sea potatoes become more interesting than me?”

You giggle at his playful antics, giving his chiseled jaw an affectionate scratch. “Don’t worry, buttercup. There’s enough of me to go around.”

Oscar arches a skeptical brow. “Is that so?”

Without warning, he rolls over and nuzzles his face into your stomach, peppering your cotton shirt with sloppy, pouty kisses. You can’t stifle your laughter as his ticklish stubble assaults your sensitive skin.

“Oscar! St-stop it!” You squirm and swat at him halfheartedly, breathless with mirth. “We have company!”

Logan shoots you a roguish wink from behind the steering wheel. “Don’t mind me, love birds. Just pretend I’m not here.”

Oscar grins wickedly, ignoring Logan as he continues his relentless assault, until finally you cry for mercy between gasping peals of laughter.

“Okay, okay! You win!” Tenderly, you cup Oscar’s face in your hands and guide him up until your noses are brushing. “You’ve got my full, undivided attention. Happy now, Mr. Needy?”

“Getting there,” Oscar murmurs, drinking in your flushed, breathless features with unfiltered longing. He leans in until your foreheads are touching, savoring your intoxicating closeness. “All I need is one more thing ...”

You regard him with an arched brow, unable to resist playing along. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Rather than answering directly, Oscar closes the scant distance between you, claiming your lips in a searing, all-consuming kiss. You melt against him with a contented sigh, cradling the back of his neck as you lose yourself in the embrace.

Logan whistles again from the helm. “Not gonna lie, I’m a little jealous over here!”

Reluctantly, you break away with a breathless giggle, nuzzling your flushed cheek against Oscar’s. “Okay, okay. I think you’ve successfully reminded me who has my heart.”

A smug grin tugs at Oscar’s lips. “And don’t you forget it.”

He punctuates the smug remark with another lingering peck. But just as he’s withdrawing, you catch a fleeting glimpse of movement beneath the waves — a sleek gray shape growing closer and closer.

You gasp in delight, headbutting Oscar as you scramble upright. “There! Did you see that!”

Oscar blinks owlishly, rubbing the spot on his forehead where you clocked him. “I … what?”

“A manatee!” You exclaim, bouncing excitedly on the cushioned deck. “It was right there! Oh, they’re even more adorable than I imagined!”

You shoot Oscar your most imploring puppy dog eyes, bottom lip protruding in an irresistible pout. “Can we … get one?”

Oscar’s brows climb toward his hairline. “Get one? As in … you want to adopt a manatee?”

You nod fervently. “Why not? They’re the sweetest things!”

A chuckle rumbles up from Oscar’s chest as he regards you with a blend of adoration and bewilderment. Leave it to you to fall head-over-heels for a three-ton marine mammal.

“And just where do you propose we keep this … pet manatee?” He asks, struggling to keep a straight face.

You open your mouth, then falter, momentarily stumped. A crease forms between your brows as you ponder the dilemma. After a beat, your eyes light up with your stroke of genius.

“The bathtub!”

Oscar barks out a laugh, loud and uninhibited. “The bathtub? Seriously?”

You level him with a deadpan stare, completely serious. “What? We have a big tub.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Oscar pulls you into a fond embrace, lips brushing your forehead in a gentle kiss. “You’re certifiable, you know that?”

A contented hum rumbles in your throat as you snuggle deeper into the circle of his arms. “Maybe. But you love me for it.”

“That I do,” Oscar murmurs, resting his cheek on top of your head as the sun begins its descent over Miami’s shimmering coastline. “That I do.”

[hecksee]

me when im having one of those days where i wish i didn't have a body. me when i know i cant be everything to everyone but i just want to be everything to someone. me when i feel like a rope that has to be cut to make useable again. me when hope is a fever dream resilience tinged sacharine. me when the rough my diamond was in is so rough that no one bothered to start digging it up. me when pieces of me line the pavement and my blood soaks the cracks in the road. me when youre sick of me always screaming but im screaming at my demons. me when i dont even know if imma laugh or cry. me when i want to sit with you and have healthy conversations. me when right now im wondering if it'll always be this way. me when i promise to text back, as long as its death till we part. me when if i never called it heartbreak, how can i be heartbroken. me when i write little poems each day inside my head, my only conclusion i dont want to die yet. me when i just want to know that youre with me. me when im trying to distract myself from the fears ive discovered. me when its disillusion and confusion this illusion of me. me when bears in trees.

[solxamber]

Kind of want to see how you write White Rabbit!Reader overbloting with the TWST characters.

On your rules, it didn't state whether or not you wrote angst or not, soooooo......

I imagine while everyone else sees it as just teasing anxious/shy beastman, White Rabbit!Reader doesn't find it funny at all and finds it kind of insulting that people are willing to tease them in some shape or form or even try to rope them into a deal.

TBH, if I was White Rabbit!Reader, I would feel insulted or agitated that people are willing to take advantage of them.

Thank you for the request, I hope you like it <3

Part 1 with the characters interaction with white rabbit!reader

You’ve always been the nervous type. Jumpy, shy, the sort of person people look at and think, Ah, easy to tease. It’s not like you want to be like this, constantly on edge, always trying to avoid the next embarrassment. But that’s just how things are, right? No one really sees you, not beyond the anxious White Rabbit who always stumbles over their words and drops paperwork.

Everyone thinks it’s harmless. The playful teasing, the way they poke at you like it’s some kind of game. You try to smile, laugh it off, and pretend like it doesn’t bother you. But inside? It’s different. It’s not funny. It’s exhausting. Day after day, week after week—there’s only so much you can take before the cracks start to show.

As you fall deeper into your overblot, surrounded by thick, inky shadows and an overwhelming sense of betrayal, each of them reacts differently. They’ve never seen you like this before—never imagined you’d reach a breaking point. But here you are, consumed by magic, frustration, and the hurt they didn’t realize they’d inflicted.

Riddle Rosehearts:

Riddle is the first to react, freezing in place as memories of his own overblot flood back. He knows what it’s like to snap under the pressure, to feel like the world is pressing down on you with impossible expectations. But seeing you, someone so quiet and timid, become consumed by that darkness? It hits him harder than he expected.

“White Rabbit…” he mutters, voice tight, guilt pooling in his chest. He knows what it’s like to feel trapped by rules, but he never thought his teasing could push someone to this. The weight of his own overblot sits heavily in his gut. He had no right to let his frustrations out on you, to not recognize the burden you were carrying.

“Enough!” he shouts, not to you, but to the others. “This is my fault… I should’ve noticed.” He’s desperate to keep you from making the same mistakes he did.

Trey Clover:

Trey is shocked but calm, his expression unreadable as he watches the chaos unfold around you. He thought he knew you, thought you were just shy, a bit anxious. But this? This darkness swirling around you? It tells him how badly he misread things.

“I didn’t realize…” he admits under his breath. Trey has always been the ‘caretaker,’ the calm one, but he wonders now if his casual teasing and pushing you along without addressing your stress was a mistake. “I never meant for things to go this far.” He takes a step forward, hoping to pull you back from the brink.

“I’ll help you,” Trey says, trying to reach through the rage and chaos. “You’re not alone in this.”

Cater Diamond:

Cater flinches when he sees your overblot form, a deep pang of guilt hitting him. He had always laughed off your reactions, thinking you were just a little skittish. Maybe he even found it cute in a weird way. But now, seeing the result of all those moments, he’s not laughing anymore.

“Whoa… I didn’t think—” He cuts himself off, realizing there’s no way to make light of this. His chest tightens with anxiety, memories of watching Riddle’s overblot flood his mind. He’s always been the type to avoid confrontation, to stay on the sidelines and keep things light. But now, he feels guilty for not paying more attention to your feelings.

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Cater says softly, watching the chaos unravel. “Come on, this isn’t like you…”

Ace Trappola:

Ace is terrified but refuses to show it, the smirk on his face slipping into something much more serious as he watches you spiral. He knew you were jumpy, but he never expected this from you. The thought that his teasing, his joking around, might’ve actually hurt you? It’s a hard pill to swallow.

“Damn… you’re really pissed, huh?” Ace mutters, trying to keep his voice light, but the guilt creeps in. He remembers when Riddle overblotted, how terrifying that was. He wonders if this is how you felt back then—small, powerless, cornered.

“I didn’t mean to push you so hard, okay?” he says, raising his hands defensively. He takes a step forward, though he’s still uncertain. “We’ll fix this, alright? You don’t have to do it alone.”

Deuce Spade:

Deuce’s heart races as he watches you overblot, his mind scrambling to process what’s happening. He never wanted to make you feel like this. You were his friend, and he thought the teasing was just harmless fun. But now? Now he sees how wrong he was.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Deuce shouts, stepping forward, fists clenched. He remembers when he lost control of his temper, how it felt like the world was collapsing around him. And now, you’re going through the same thing. “I didn’t mean it! I swear, I didn’t think—”

He feels sick, watching the darkness consume you. He knows what it’s like to feel cornered, but he can’t bear to see you fall apart like this. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here.”

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona watches your overblot unfold with a cold, calculating gaze, his own memories of overblot lurking in the back of his mind. He knows what it’s like to reach your breaking point, to feel like you’ve been pushed too far by the world around you. But seeing you, so jittery and anxious, transform into something so full of rage and power? It catches him off guard.

“Tch. Should’ve seen this coming,” Leona mutters, though his voice lacks its usual bite. He remembers the humiliation of his own overblot, the way it felt to be consumed by bitterness and frustration. He won’t admit it, but he feels a flicker of empathy for you.

“Don’t get cocky just because you snapped,” he says, stepping forward. “You think you’re the only one who’s been pushed too far? Get a grip.” But behind his harsh words is a hint of understanding. He knows this darkness all too well.

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie’s first instinct is to run, to get as far away from the chaos as possible. But then he hesitates, seeing the pain etched into your overblotted form. He knew you were an easy target for teasing, but he never meant for things to get this bad. You’re just the anxious bunny who always jumped at shadows, right?

“Ah, man…” Ruggie rubs the back of his neck, feeling a pang of guilt. “Didn’t mean to push ya so hard.” He understands what it’s like to be at the bottom, to feel like people are using you. It’s something he’s lived with his whole life.

“Look, I get it. Everyone pushes you around, huh?” Ruggie says, his voice softer now. “But this ain’t the way to deal with it. We can figure this out, alright?”

Jack Howl:

Jack’s eyes widen as he sees the darkness surge around you. He’s always respected your timid nature, never the type to tease you like the others. But still, he didn’t realize how much pressure you were under, how deeply the teasing had cut. Seeing you overblot like this—it makes him feel guilty for not stepping in sooner.

“You...” Jack mutters, his voice filled with concern. He knows what it’s like to feel small and powerless, but he never imagined you’d reach this point. “I should’ve stopped them. I should’ve said something earlier.”

His instincts kick in, and he steps forward, determined to help you. “You don’t have to go through this alone. We’re packmates, right? I won’t let this take you.” He braces himself for whatever comes next, ready to face the storm by your side.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul’s eyes widen in shock, but a familiar pang of guilt hits him. Seeing you succumb to an overblot drags up memories of his own, the crushing weight of failure and inferiority pressing down on him. He had worked so hard to keep himself from feeling powerless, just as you had kept trying to stay in control.

“Not again…” Azul mutters to himself, his mind flashing back to when he was in your shoes. He had been mocked, taken advantage of, and pushed to the edge—just like you. But he realizes now how unfair it was to tease you, to make you feel as though your anxiety and insecurity were something to exploit.

He straightens up, trying to shake off his own feelings. “I won’t let you go through what I did. I’ll help you, White Rabbit.” He knows what it’s like to drown in despair, and he won’t let you be consumed by it.

Jade Leech:

Jade’s smile falters, his gaze sharp and observant as he watches your overblot unfold. To him, you had always been the anxious little White Rabbit, easy to fluster, easy to toy with. But now, seeing the raw fury and pain that has overtaken you, he wonders if he pushed too far.

“Fascinating,” he murmurs softly, though there’s a note of regret in his voice. He had always found your reactions amusing, but he never thought it would come to this. He’s not entirely unfamiliar with what it feels like to be pushed beyond one’s limit. But even so, this wasn’t what he intended.

“I wonder…” Jade steps forward slowly, voice calm. “What can be done to quell this storm?” His tone is smooth, but there’s a genuine desire to help beneath it.

Floyd Leech:

Floyd grins at first, excited by the chaos, but his grin quickly fades when he realizes how serious this is. He’s seen overblots before, but yours? It’s different. He thought messing with you was fun—seeing you all flustered and scared always gave him a good time. But now? Now, he’s not so sure.

“Oi, Rabbity” Floyd says, tilting his head. “I didn’t think you’d snap like this.” There’s a note of surprise in his voice, even a little bit of guilt. He knows what it’s like to be driven to the edge, to feel like everything is just too much, but he never thought you’d end up like this.

“Come on, don’t be boring. Let’s stop this,” Floyd says, his voice still playful, but there’s concern in his eyes.

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim’s heart breaks as he sees you overblot. You were always so quiet, so nervous, and he never imagined that all the teasing, all the casual comments, could push you to this point. He’s never experienced an overblot himself, but he’s seen it before—he saw Jamil’s, after all—and he knows how much pain must be inside you right now.

“I’m so sorry!” Kalim cries, rushing toward you. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like this! Please, [Name], I never wanted to hurt you!” There’s desperation in his voice as he tries to reach through the swirling darkness to get to you.

“We’re friends, right? I’ll help you! I promise!”

Jamil Viper:

Jamil’s stomach churns as he watches the darkness swallow you. It’s a feeling he knows intimately, the suffocating need for control and the constant pressure to serve, only to snap under it all. His own overblot had been a rebellion, an explosion of resentment he could no longer contain.

But you? You were different—or so he thought. Now he sees it clearly: you’ve been pushed into a corner, taken advantage of just like he was. A bitter taste fills his mouth.

He calls out to you, voice steady but not unfeeling. “Overblotting won’t free you. Trust me, I’ve been there. It might feel like the only option right now, but in the end, you’ll still be trapped—just in a different kind of cage.”

He takes a slow step closer, his mind already working through how to defuse the situation. “Let’s solve this another way. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil watches your transformation with narrowed eyes, his heart clenched in a mixture of anger and regret. He knows all too well the feeling of perfection slipping through his fingers, the desperation to control everything, only to lose it all. His own overblot was a moment of utter failure, a lapse in control that still stings his pride.

But this is different—your overblot is not about vanity or the fear of fading. It’s about being pushed, teased, and broken.

He steps forward, his voice sharp but laced with an undertone of empathy. “Is this what you want? To lose yourself because of what others think?” His gaze hardens, but there’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “I understand your frustration. I’ve been where you are, and trust me—overblotting won’t make it any better. It’ll only steal more from you.”

Vil may be harsh, but his words carry the weight of someone who’s learned a bitter lesson. “Come back to yourself, or you’ll regret it.”

Rook Hunt:

Rook’s eyes light up with both fascination and concern as he watches the darkness surround you. He’s always been keenly aware of people’s emotions, but he never realized just how much you were struggling. He thought your nervousness was simply part of your charm, but now he sees how deeply the teasing cut.

“Mon lapin, such fury!” Rook exclaims, though there’s a softness in his tone. “I never meant to push you so far. I only wished to see you shine, but I see now that I have caused you harm.”

Rook steps forward, his voice gentle. “Let me help you find your way back to the light.”

Epel Felmier:

Epel feels a pang of guilt as he watches you overblot. He thought you were just shy, just a little jumpy, and he didn’t think much of the teasing. But now, seeing the darkness consume you, he realizes how much you were holding back.

“Dang it…” Epel mutters, clenching his fists. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He knows what it’s like to feel underestimated, to feel like you’re being pushed around, and he can’t help but feel responsible for not standing up for you sooner.

“Come on, we’re better than this! Don’t let them get to you like this!"

Idia Shroud:

Idia feels a wave of guilt wash over him as he watches your overblot. Memories of his own overblot come flooding back—the fear, the anger, the feeling of being utterly powerless. He knows what it’s like to feel like the world is against you, and seeing you go through the same thing? It hits too close to home.

“Ah, crap…” Idia mutters, running a hand through his hair. He’s been there, and it’s terrifying. The isolation, the pressure, the overwhelming urge to just… break. He never thought you’d reach that point, though. He always saw you as the timid one, the anxious White Rabbit that everyone teased, but he didn’t realize just how much you were holding in.

“I-I get it,” Idia says, his voice wavering slightly. “It’s not fair. None of it is. But you don’t have to do this.” He feels a strange connection to you now, and the last thing he wants is for you to go through what he did.

“We’ll figure it out, okay? I won’t let you end up like me.”

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho’s sensors flash in alarm as he registers your overblot. He’s never experienced one himself, but he’s seen it happen to Idia, and he knows how dangerous it can be. His eyes widen as he scans your vitals, detecting the surge of magic and stress that’s overtaking you.

“You’re overblotting!” Ortho shouts, his voice filled with concern. He hovers closer, his holographic wings fluttering as he tries to figure out how to help. “You don’t have to go through this alone! We can fix this! I promise!”

He reaches out, trying to connect with you on a personal level. “My brother went through something similar, but we helped him. We’ll help you too! You’re not alone, okay?”

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus watches your overblot with a calm, contemplative gaze. He’s no stranger to feeling isolated, to being misunderstood and feared, and seeing you succumb to the darkness brings up a strange sense of kinship. You were always anxious around him, always jumpy, and he wonders if he contributed to the pressure that broke you.

“So, even the White Rabbit has fallen to despair,” Malleus murmurs, his voice low. He knows the weight of loneliness, and he feels a deep sympathy for you. “You are not alone in this,.I will help you, as you have helped me.”

He steps forward, his presence commanding and calm. “Do not let the darkness consume you. You are stronger than you believe.”

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia’s playful demeanor shifts as he watches your overblot unfold. He’s lived a long life and seen many things, but overblots are always tragic. He thought your timid nature was just part of who you were, but now he sees the pain you were hiding.

“My, my… I didn’t think you’d reach this point,” Lilia says softly. “I should’ve paid more attention to the signs.” There’s regret in his voice as he steps forward, his usual playful tone replaced with seriousness.

“Come now, little one. There’s no need to let the darkness take you. We’ll get through this together.”

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek is taken aback by your overblot, his usually brash demeanor faltering for a moment. He thought you were just weak, just anxious, but now he sees how much pressure you were under. He didn’t expect you to snap like this.

“White Rabbit! Pull yourself together!” Sebek shouts, though there’s a hint of concern in his voice. He’s not good at dealing with emotions, but he knows what it’s like to feel like you’re not living up to expectations.

“Don’t let this consume you! You’re stronger than this!”

Silver:

Silver watches you overblot with a calm but concerned expression. He’s always been quiet, like you, and he knows what it’s like to feel overwhelmed by the expectations of others. He didn’t think the teasing would push you this far, but now he regrets not stepping in sooner.

“I should’ve noticed,” Silver says softly. “I should’ve done more to help you.” He steps forward, his voice gentle. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here.”

Rollo Flamme

Rollo’s eyes blaze with a mixture of horror and triumph as he watches you descend into your overblot. The corruption seeping through your veins, the monstrous form taking shape—it only reinforces everything he’s ever believed about the dangers of magic, especially from those at NRC.

“This is exactly what I’ve warned against,” he mutters, his voice cold. He steps back, disgust etched on his face as he tightens his grip on his staff. “Another student, corrupted by the very environment they’re surrounded by.”

He glares at the swirling darkness around you, his hatred for Night Raven College deepening. “This place… it turns even the meekest into monsters. You should’ve never come here.”

Yet, despite his disdain, there’s a flicker of pity in his eyes. “ I had hoped you’d be different.” But that hope has been dashed, and now, all he sees is confirmation of his worst fears.

Dire Crowley:

Crowley stands frozen for a moment, his usual air of superiority faltering as the gravity of the situation hits him. “[Name]… an overblot? How could this happen under my watch?” His voice is laced with disbelief, but it’s quickly replaced by a sense of urgency.

“This is most unfortunate!” he exclaims, hands fluttering in a dramatic display of panic. “But do not fear, my dear student, your magnanimous headmaster will ensure that you are saved!”

Despite his outward bravado, there’s a flicker of guilt in his eyes. He knew how much you struggled, but he never paid enough attention. Always too busy, always passing off the responsibility to others.

“Now, let’s remain calm, everyone!” he declares, trying to rally the other students. “We must contain the situation! For the good of the school, of course.”

Divus Crewel:

Crewel’s sharp eyes narrow as he takes in the scene, the dark magic radiating off you in waves. He’s trained many students, seen plenty of potential disasters, but this… this is something he should have seen coming.

“Overblot?” he mutters, shaking his head. “Honestly, pup, I expected better from you. Letting your emotions take control? That’s a rookie mistake.”

His words are biting, but there’s a hint of something softer beneath them. He doesn’t pity you, but he understands the pressure you’ve been under. He’s seen students buckle before, and now it’s happening again.

“You’re better than this,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “Get a hold of yourself before you do something truly irreversible. Or do I have to clean up your mess, too?”

Crewel doesn’t tolerate weakness, but he’s not about to let you fall without trying to snap you out of it.

Mozus Trein:

Trein’s stern gaze hardens as he watches the chaos unfold. There’s no surprise in his eyes, only a deep, resigned understanding. “Another overblot…” he mutters under his breath, his face grave but composed. “You, of all people…”

He adjusts his glasses, his expression lined with disappointment. “It is always the quiet ones, the ones who bottle their emotions until they explode. I should have seen it coming.”

Trein steps forward, his voice measured and calm despite the swirling darkness around you. “Magic is a gift, not a tool for reckless venting of one’s frustrations. Overblotting won’t bring you peace, only further destruction.”

Though his words are stern, there’s a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. He’s seen too many students fall victim to their own emotions, and he knows that sometimes, the weight of expectations and pressure is too much for anyone to bear.

“Control yourself,” he says, his tone softening slightly. “You are not the first to feel overwhelmed, but you must find another way to deal with it.” His words are laced with the wisdom of experience, but whether or not you hear them in your current state is another matter entirely.

Ashton Vargas:

Vargas frowns, confusion etched on his face as he watches your overblot unfold. You? The shy, anxious student who could barely run a lap? He never expected you’d be capable of this.

“Whoa, hold on!” he shouts, rushing forward with the same intensity he brings to every physical challenge. “What’s going on here? Overblotting isn’t the answer! You need to sweat it out, not let it take over!”

His approach is as straightforward as ever, but there’s a genuine concern in his voice. He’s used to pushing his students to their limits, but he never meant for you to break like this.

“Come on,” he says, raising his voice like a coach urging you to keep going. “You’re stronger than this! Fight it! Don’t let the darkness win!”

Sam:

Sam watches from the shadows, his usual carefree smile slipping as he observes your overblot. “Well, well, looks like things got a little out of hand, huh?” His tone is light, but there’s an underlying seriousness that’s hard to miss.

He’s seen plenty of students walk through his shop, weighed down by their struggles, but you? You were always so jittery, so nervous. He never thought you’d snap like this.

“Hey now,” he calls out, his voice steady and calm. “You don’t want to go down this path. Trust me, there’s no deal worth making with that kind of power.”

He steps closer, keeping his movements slow and unthreatening. “Let’s talk it out, yeah? No need to let this magic get the best of you. After all, you’ve still got plenty of life left in you—and it’s worth more than whatever this overblot’s promising.”

Sam’s no stranger to dark magic, but he’s not about to let you drown in it without a fight.

Grim:

Grim's reaction to your overblot would be a mix of shock, fear, and frustration. Despite his usual bravado, seeing you consumed by darkness would unsettle him deeply. He paces back and forth, tail puffed up and ears flat against his head.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are ya doin', henchman? This isn't part of the plan!" Grim yelps, his voice a bit shaky despite the tough front. He jumps back as the overblot's magic flares, eyes wide. "You can't just let that dark stuff take over! You’re better than this!"

Despite his fear, Grim tries to stand tall, though his usual cockiness is nowhere to be seen. “I know you're mad and tired of gettin' pushed around, but trust me, this isn’t the way! You think I wanna lose my partner to some shadowy overblot nonsense?”

His little paws are clenched into fists as he edges closer, determined. “We’ve gotta fight this! You’ve still got me, right? I’m not lettin’ you go without a fight!”

Masterlist

[redvexillum]

@nyx91 I swear, my kinktober wouldn't be as sexy without your saucy, devilish little mind! Thank you for the request. I would like to dedicate this story to @ritualofcirice - as a fellow red flag connoisseur, this is for you bbg 😘

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, established relationship, quickie, p in v, fingering, period-typical racism, period-typical sexism, dom/sub undertone, alastor being a lil shit

The music swelled around you, a melody meant to evoke elegance, but it felt suffocating, like a veil draped over the quiet chatter of faceless strangers. Their gazes pierced, indifferent yet heavy, but not as heavy as the hand draped across your shoulder, its weight oppressive, a silent command for obedience. The man beside you, your husband in name only, pulled you closer as though to cement the truth of your captivity.  

Suffocating.  

You had been sold like a decorative doll – prettily packaged, displayed for the highest bidder. Your smile, meticulously crafted, gave the illusion of perfection. But you and he knew the truth behind your smile. It was hollow, an empty facade to continue the play, an act, until you bow out for the rest of eternity.  

You didn’t belong here, trapped in a glided world of opulence, where the diamonds adorning your neck felt more like chains than luxury.  

You had everything you needed to survive. No, that wasn’t right. You had everything required to prolong your existence, to keep breathing, but you weren’t living. How could you be, when your life was confined to a sparkling prison? You were a possession, locked away, waiting to be presented as an accessory to those who owned the world.  

Was it living to have your voice silenced, your soul stifled, your body surrendered? 

Suffocating – each breath tightening the invisible noose around your throat. Your fingers itched, clawing desperately at the ever–tightening rope that cut off your air, but no matter how hard you struggled, it wouldn’t loosen. The weight of expectation, of disdain, pressed down on you, drowning you into the deep depth of the sea with unreachable air. You begged silently, for release – just one breath – but instead, it was stolen from you, over and over again.  

The man beside you, the one whose touch made your skin crawl, let his hand drift lower, resting possessively on your stomach. “Ah, we’re still trying, aren’t we?” His laughter was thick, rich with the arrogance that came from power, but you could see it – the tension, the anger, the thinly veiled contempt in the set of his jaw. “Perhaps, by God’s grace, we’ll finally be blessed with a child.” 

You saw their glances, their cruel smirks hidden behind masks of sympathy. You could hear their whispered judgments, each word laced with venom. It was your fault – you had failed. No child, no purpose.  

A doll – that's all you were.  

Thoughtless.  

Lifeless. 

Useless.  

When their stares became unbearable, when your husband’s presence suffocated the last fragments of your will, you forced yourself to smile. It was a trembling thing, fragile and uncertain. Your hand rested lightly on his, a touch that felt foreign on your own skin. You dared to meet his icy blue eyes, his aging features seeming to grow harder under the weight of his resentment. “Dear, I...I would like to freshen up.” 

Your words were laced with a tremor, posed as a statement, yet asking permission all the same.  

His gaze cut to you, sharp as a blade, and for a moment, the world stilled. With a heavy sigh, devoid of warmth, he gave a single nod. “Of course, dear,” he said, his voice as lifeless as your own. There was no love, no affection – nothing but the void.  

Despite the sweltering heat that clung to the Louisiana air, you were always cold. Cold, and drowning in a world that wasn’t meant for you.  

With a controlled nod, you ascended the stairs. Each step measured, deliberate, though your heart pounded wildly beneath the facade of calm. You needed to maintain the mask, yet inside, your chest tightened, desperate for air, for freedom. The moment you crossed the threshold of the master bedroom, you finally took a breath – deep and revitalizing, your lungs filling as though for the first time all evening.  

“My, it must be quite the tough crowd down there, cher!” A voice, smooth and rich with an almost dangerous charm, cut through the stillness. It was familiar – achingly familiar.  

Your eyes snapped toward the source, and there he was. Alastor, lounging casually on your marital bed, legs crossed, his eyes inspecting his nails through his circular glasses. His brown hair, always so alive, shifted with his movements as he tilted his head, that ever-present grin stretching across his face.  

“Al...Alastor?” His name slipped from your lips, soft and breathless, your mind struggling to form anything beyond the simple syllables. A torrent of questions rushed through your thoughts.  

How have you been? 

Why are you here? 

Did you know how much I’ve missed you? 

But none of those questions made it past your lips. Instead, your body acted on its own.  

Before you knew it, you had crossed the room and threw yourself at him, the momentum forcing him back onto the bed. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your face burying into the familiar crook of his shoulder. That scent – rich black coffee with a faint metallic tang – washed over you, flooding your senses with memories. Safety. Desire. Love. 

“Oh, cher,” Alastor’s voice was a low, intimate whisper, his hand tracing a slow path down your spine. “Right here? On your marital bed?” His tone teased, warm and dangerous, as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hands roaming in those familiar, tantalizing patterns.  

Trembling, you slowly pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, tears blurring your vision, smudging the mask of perfection you wore so carefully. “How are you here, Alastor?” you breathed, barely able to speak. Your fingers grazed his chest, lingering on the fabric of his suit. “This place...the security...” Panic began to take root in your chest, twisting sharply. “You have to leave – if my husband finds you, he’ll - he’ll kill you!”  

You grabbed his wrist, a frantic tug to get him off the bed, but he didn’t budge, at least not from your force. Instead, he stood in one smooth motion, and before you could register what was happening, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His other hand gently clasped yours, a slow, intimate dance forming between you.  

Confusion painted your face as he swayed, guiding you in time with the muted music that filtered through the floorboards from the party below. “Ah, I’ve missed this,” Alastor purred, his grin never dropping, as if the danger meant nothing to him. “You and me, cher. We used to be quite the pair at Mimzy’s, remember? People would come just to watch us dance!”  

His voice was warm, teasing, dripping with nostalgia. You wanted to stay mad, to push him away. But your resolve wavered. “I was foolish,” you began, trying to sound firm, to mimic the cold, detached tone your husband wielded so effortlessly. “You mean nothing to me,” you forced out, but your voice quivered, betraying the truth behind your words. “After all, I’m just another loose woman,” the self-deprecating laughter fell weakly from your lips, and you hated how easily the cracks were revealing itself.  

“Mmm,” Alastor hummed, his hold tightening around your waist. His grip was possessive, unyielding. “Is that what you believe?” His voice was soft now, a whisper in the intimate space he had created for the both of you. He spun you gently, his breath brushing against your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.  

You nodded, though your throat tightened painfully. “Of course,” you whispered, your laugh sharp, broken. “Why would I choose some small-time radio host over all of this?” You gestured weakly around the room – the polished wood, the silk sheets, the closet lined with designer clothes and sparkling jewels. It was everything society told you to want. “Why would I choose you?” Your voice cracked, barely above a whisper, and the tears you had tried so hard to suppress began to spill over, streaking your cheeks.  

Alastor turned you around to face him, then his hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing the tears away as they fell. He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Because, cher,” he whispered, his voice low and sensual, “no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, you know deep down...you’ve always wanted me.” 

Your heart stuttered at his words, the heat between you growing palpable. His touch was fire against your skin, burning away the cold of your marriage, the numbness of your glided cage. With him, you felt alive again – dangerously alive, as if every nerve in your body had been reawakened. You shuddered against him, your mind caught between the addicting pull of desire and the sharp bite of fear.  

He leaned down, his lips hovering just above yours, his voice nothing but a sultry murmur. “I’m here now, cher. And I’m not leaving until you admit what you really want.” 

Before you could utter a response, Alastor’s grip tightened as he guided your body toward the window, the cool glass casting your reflection into the darkness of the night. Only the moon, high and full, bore witness to the scene unfolding, its pale light shimmering on the wine-red curtains that cloaked you both in secrecy. The silken fabric draped around you like a veil, shrouding the sinful, forbidden moment with another man.  

“So, tell me...” Alastor’s lips dipped low, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers pressed firmly into your cheeks, turning your gaze toward the window. The reflection staring back was undeniable – the image of two lovers entwined in passion, his whisky-brown eyes locking onto yours through the glass. His ever-present grin curled devilishly, brimming with dangerous delight. “Why do you look like a woman in love, cher?” he whispered, his lips brushing over your cheek in a feather-light kiss, warm and inviting, his breath sending a shiver through you.  

His hand drifted down, fingers trailing over your skin with the slow, tantalizing precision that made your heart race. One by one, the buttons of your dress came undone, and with each release, the fabric parted until your white bra was fully exposed to the night.  

You should’ve felt shame, knowing anyone who glanced up might see you like this – exposed, vulnerable, sinful. But when Alastor tugged down your bra, freeing your breasts to the cool air, the thrill of it only made your nipples pebble, sharp against the sudden chill.  

“Ah, cher, you look like a woman drenched in sin.” His words were molten, dripping with heat as his lips grazed the curve of your ear. His fingers found your nipple, teasing, pinching, drawing a sharp gasp from you that you couldn’t suppress.  

Alastor shushed you with a dark chuckle, his hand tightening around your waist. “Careful, love. You wouldn’t want him to hear us, would you?” The danger in his voice set a rush of excitement flooding your veins, every nerve alive with desire.  

Immediately, you bit your lower lip, nodding, your breath shallow as you fought to keep quiet.  

“Good girl,” he murmured, the words a caress that sent a delightful jolt down your spine. His body pressed closer, his hips grinding slowly against you, his desire evident, burning. “Now, show me how much you want me,” he breathed, his tone filled with a dark, seductive command. “Show me how much you missed me.” 

For a fleeting second, you caught it – a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, something soft and aching beneath the confident, teasing mask. But it vanished just as quickly, leaving you wondering if you’d imagined it.  

Turning your head, you pulled your gaze away from the reflection and looked at him, really looked at him. Not the illusion of him through the glass, but the real man before you.  

“I’m not allowed to want you,” you whispered, voice trembling as the weight of your emotions crashed over you. A single tear slipped down your cheek, and with it, the perfect mask you had worn for so long began to melt away. “I’m not allowed to think,” another tear passed the threshold, the barrier of unfeeling you had tried so hard to uphold. “I’m not allowed to love you, Alastor.” 

The words hung in the air, raw and exposed, words you had never dared to speak aloud, finally escaping into the night.  

“Then don’t,” Alastor whispered back, his voice low and dangerous, just before his lips captured yours in a kiss that stole your breath. You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his words. How could he ask you not to want him, not to think of him, not to love him, when every touch, every kiss, every moment with him set your soul ablaze? 

But you understood what he meant. He didn’t care, and neither should you. At this moment, with him, propriety, expectations, rules – those didn’t matter.  

He spun you around to face him fully, pressing your back against the cool glass of the window. The sensation of the cold pane against your heated skin made you gasp, but Alastor’s hands were quick, pulling your leg up to hook around his waist. The clink of his belt unbuckling rang loud in the quiet room, a promise of what was to come.  

“Tell me you want me, and I’m yours,” he said softly, his voice a gentle plea, his fingers hooking into the band of your underwear, pulling it down slowly. “Tell me to leave, and...” His breath stuttered for just a second, and he paused, his eyes searching yours, his lips hovering as if he didn’t want to finish the thought.  

But before he could say another word, you closed the distance, your lips crashing into his in a kiss full of desperation, full of need.  

You, the sinful, wretched, adulterous woman, wanted him - wanted him more than anything.  

Your fingers tangled into the back of his hair, pulling him closer as your lips melded together, tasting, licking, savouring every breathless second of the kiss. A soft moan escaped you, the sensation of him after so long overwhelming every sense. His warmth, his smell – all of it was intoxicating, all of it drowned you.  

“Oh, cher,” Alastor murmured, his voice a wicked purr, just before he tore your underwear away with a sharp, satisfying rip. The blunt, heated tip of him pressed against your core, rubbing in slow, deliberate strokes. He moaned into your mouth, his words a low chant of pleasure. “You missed me, you missed me.” 

Slowly, deliberately, he pushed into you, savouring every inch, every stretch. The heat between you two felt unbearable, a throbbing pulse that only deepened the craving you had tried to bury. 

“Al-Alastor,” you whimpered, your voice catching as your walls clenched around him. He filled you slowly, drawing out the moment, making you feel every single second of him entering you, making you remember every inch of what you had missed.  

You bit down on your lip, squeezing your eyes shut as the intensity of it coursed through you. Your body screamed with need, the lewd moan threatening to escape held firmly behind gritted teeth. Here, in the bedroom you shared with your husband, you were pressed against the window, fucking another man behind a flimsy red curtain.  

The thought sent a thrill racing down your body, but reality pulled at you, reminding you how close you were to getting caught. Your husband would come looking for you soon. You couldn’t stay away too long. “I-I-” you stammered, taking in a sharp breath as Alastor buried himself to the hilt, filling you completely.  

“I know, cher, I know,” Alastor muttered against your skin, his voice filled with understanding. And then he quickened his pace, his hips snapping forward, thrusting into you with reckless abandon.  

Your suppressed moans mingled with his, the heat between you rising, rising, rising – his breath coming out ragged as he kept up his relentless rhythm. He was close – you could feel it in the way his movements grew more desperate. And then, with one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, the hot spurt of his release filling you, flooding your core.  

Just as the pleasure surged through your body, the door to the room creaked open.  

Alastor’s hand flew to cover your lips, muffling any sound as his body stilled against yours, his cock still pulsing inside you. Your breath was stuck in your throat as the familiar voice of your husband echoed through the room.  

“Dear?” His voice was calm, almost indifferent, but each footstep that creaked across the floor sent your heart racing faster.  

Your eyes locked with Alastor’s, and for a brief moment, you wondered how he could remain so composed. His grin didn’t falter, not even with the looming danger. Your husband could kill him – claim it was self-defence to protect his honour, saving face from the scandal of an adulterous wife.  

“Damn, where did that bitch go?” Your husband muttered under his breath, his voice growing closer.  

You felt Alastor soften inside you, the remnants of his release dripping down your thighs, but he wasn’t finished. His hand slid down, finding your clit, his fingers circling the sensitive nub in slow, tantalizing strokes. His other hand remained over your mouth, stifling any sound, his eyes glinting with that familiar, manic thrill.  

He scooped his own seed from your thigh, pushing it back into you, teasing your already sensitive core as you trembled in his arms.  

And still, he grinned, devilishly, as if daring your husband to step just a little closer.  

Instinctively, your hips bucked against his fingers, desperate for the release Alastor was teasing from you. He closed his eyes, a low, stifled groan escaping his throat as he ground his softening cock against your thigh, savouring the sensation of your wetness mixed with his seed. The heat of his spent length against your skin sent sparks through your trembling body.  

You bit your lip, eyes squeezed shut, fighting back the moan that threatened to spill from your throat. The sound of his fingers working you, slick with a mixture of both of you, filled your ears. It was deafening in the otherwise silent room, your husband just steps away. The danger, the thrill – it was too much. You were spiralling closer toward the edge, your body coiling tighter with each stroke.  

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you opened them, meeting Alastor’s gaze, silently pleading for him to stop. You were so close to falling apart, right here in your marital bed, with your husband in the same room.  

If he caught you – if he knew – you couldn’t bear it. You couldn’t bear the thought of Alastor’s life in danger because of your sins.  

But he didn’t stop.  

Instead, Alastor’s lips curled into that wicked, wolfish grin that sent shivers down your spine. He pushed you further, faster, his fingers working you into a frenzy. The door clicked shut, your husband leaving the room, blissfully unaware. The instant the threat was gone, Alastor’s hand moved with abandon, his fingers rubbing your clit in maddening, slick circles. The wet, lewd sound echoed through your ears, the final push you needed.  

“That’s right...that’s right,” he murmured, against your skin, his voice a low, intoxicating drawl. “Come for me, cher.” 

The words shattered you. Your body seized, muscles tensing, your moans muffled by his hand. Your fingers dug into the sleeve of his jacket, clutching at anything to ground yourself as your orgasm ripped through you.  

Alastor’s eyes never left you, watching every moment of your undoing, the dark gleam of satisfaction never leaving his face as he kept you pinned in his grip.  

As your trembling subsided, and the waves of your climax began to fade, Alastor leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “When you go downstairs, cher, don’t clean yourself up,” he whispered, his voice drenched with possessive heat. His hand slowly left your mouth, only to slip lower, fingers slick with his release. “I want you to feel me, “ he muttered, scooping up more of his thick seed and plunging his fingers deep inside you once more, “all night.” 

Your mind spun, lost in the haze of lust as he pressed his cum-soaked fingers to your lips. Without a second thought, you wrapped your mouth around them, slowly sucking, tasting the salt of him and the lingering heat of your own desire. You cleaned his fingers obediently, your tongue swirling around them as he watched with a sharp grin.  

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you hurried to button your dress, your hands shaking as you tried to fix your makeup and smooth your hair. Alastor slipped out the window, leaving you trembling in the wake of your shared sin. The tattered remains of your underwear did nothing to cover you, and the cool breeze caressed your slick folds as you stood there, still reeling.  

Returning downstairs to greet your husband, you felt the unmistakable warmth of Alastor’s seed slowly dripping down your inner thighs. You pressed them together, trying to keep it contained, but true to his word, you felt him with every step, every moment. His presence lingered on your skin, inside you, for the rest of the night.  

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[stirlingscornerblog]

Discover the Unique Design Inspirations for Jade Engagement Rings

For brides searching for durable, vibrant, and sentimental gemstones, jade pendants are the ideal choice. Jade comes steeped in centuries of history and culture, making it suitable for sentimental brides.

Many people believed that jade could often cure its wearer of pain and had a lot of spiritual associations. This deep-rooted belief not only adds a sense of connection but also reassurance to your choice of a jade engagement ring.

Reasons to love Jade rings

One of the key reasons why jade diamond-cut rope chains are a popular choice among brides is their vibrant green shade. Jade, which comes in two types-jadeite and nephrite, is a rare and valuable gemstone. Jadeite, in particular, is highly prized for its rarity and vibrant color, making it a unique and meaningful choice for your engagement ring.

Most jewelers will tell you to avoid treated stones as they can enhance the appearance of your stone but deteriorate over time.

While a jade Virgin Mary pendant can come in a variety of shades, including yellow, orange, brown, lavender, and red, the most coveted hue is imperial green jade. This shade, which was originally reserved for the emperor of China, is a symbol of prestige and luxury, making it a perfect choice for your special day.

Most brides opt for a jade center stone with smaller side diamonds or a halo of emeralds for added shine and a pop of color.

In Summary

Jade is quite durable and resistant to scratches; however, it can scratch if roughly handled. To ensure your jade stone looks new and shiny for years to come, it's important to take it to a professional for cleaning, repair, and maintenance every couple of months. This responsibility not only adds to the value and longevity of your jade engagement ring but also shows your care and attention to detail.

[the1920sinpictures]

1923 c. Van Cleef and Arpels "The Florence Gould Natural Pearl Evening Purse". Designed as a seed pearl and white leather pouch, trimmed by a seed pearl triangular overlay, suspending pearl drops with circular and rose-cut diamond caps and ribbon detail, to the twin-rope cinch cord, gathered by rose-cut diamond roundelles, mounted in platinum. From 1st Dibs.

[wnbnny]

gone - b.c

genre: angst, breakup

synopsis: you shouldn't have married me. the words rang in your head, eyes widening ever so slightly as your fragile heart finally shattered like a piece of glass, the final blow delivered by chan's words.

word count: 0.4k (short drabble)

author's note: just a short drabble to keep y'all entertained while i write my longer fics:]

"why can't you just leave me alone??" chan was on the brink of exhaustion, and you nagging at him was not helping at all.

"chan-" you began, but was cut off by him almost immediately. "no! you tell me to sleep every single day, you call me 15 times in one day, you won't let me have even a single fucking second to myself!" chan's hands gripped at his hair as he yelled, gesturing around wildly.

"i just tell you to take care of yourself! you stay up until 3am in the morning, never eat and starve yourself, you never even say a fucking goodbye in the morning when you leave!" you yelled, lips wobbling as you felt all the pent-up emotions starting to expand, rising and rising until it was pushing against the walls of your heart and threatening to explode.

"do you know how shitty it feels to have a fucking husband that feels like a long-distance boyfriend? you don't even say goodbye, you come back at 4am every day, and i haven't even seen you in a month-" you stop, a sob threatening to escape, so you compressed your trembling lips into a straight line keep the tears in, though it was a futile attempt.

"well you shouldn't have even fucking married me then! i don't need a fucking second mother bossing me around every single second of the day! this marriage isn't even fucking working!"

you shouldn't have married me.

the words rang in your head, eyes widening ever so slightly as your fragile heart finally shattered like a piece of glass, the final blow delivered by chan's words. you could only stand in place, frozen and rooted in place, tears finally cascading down your face.

"wait- no, shit-" chan could only stammer as he watched your face fall, instantly regretting what he had just carelessly uttered.

"fine." one word, yet said with so much finality. the one word that broke his heart.

hand shaking, you brought your right hand to your left, finally twisting the small band encrusted with sparkling diamonds off. your wedding ring.

how ironic, that the symbol of your love would become the symbol of your separation.

you slammed the ring down on the counter, grabbed your coat and keys, and walked out the front door. he knew your heart was gone, the frayed rope holding your relationship together by a thread finally snapping with the sharp knife of his words.

you were gone.

[fountainpenguin]

sdflkj, Mumbo's Episode 3 is just one gut punch after another:

Logs in. Is dead. - "I was kicked when the server reset, leaving no death message... and no evidence."

Trotting around in confusion trying to figure out how he died. Returns to the scene of the crime. Confusing bits and pieces start rendering in. They answer nothing. He's shook.

Uses chickens on ropes for structural support

Tries to distract Iskall so he can sneakily add oodles of blocks to his base.

Decides the best way to enter his base is by dying and respawning. Designs a system for this.

Realizes he has no way to get items into his base. Designs an item launcher that fires things into it.

For unknown reasons, Mumbo plays a gag like 3 times in this episode where he pretends to be taking down and rebuilding his slime farm.

"Despite his glaring faults, I managed to not blast Ren."

Runs around, unable to find anyone with ice.

Chirps that he's shocked Scar is doing anything besides standing around all day blaring his train whistle.

Finally gets a silk touch pick off Scar. Leaves. Puts the pick in a chest and throws himself into lava.

Starts gaslighting Scar in the chat, claiming he died in a pool of lava that formed under ice. Scar keeps protesting this makes no sense and Mumbo keeps insisting this is what happened.

Disappointed Scar bribes him with a diamond block for Mumbo to replace the pick. Mumbo promptly gives it to him and laughs his head off.

"I must just exude poverty." - Mumbo, wearing a full suit.

Mumbo dying in order to access his starter base. He forgot to set spawn inside. He's stuck outside. It's Episode 3.

Mumbo on a quest to solve his own murder. Plays a bit of all the clues that led him to this conclusion, does his outro, and cuts to himself watching Tango's video where the murder occurred.

20-minute episode.

[daddyfordaeddy]

Pairing: San x f! Reader

Word Count: 2269

Warnings: cursing, talks of insecurity about your nether regions, too much league of legends talk, none otherwise (smut warnings under cut)

Genre: smut, fluff, rated M for mature, established relationship au

Summary: You lost a bet to San, and now he gets to do whatever he wants

Smut warnings: fingering, oral (male & female receiving, fem focused), blindfold, dirty talk, spit play, light bondage (yn's tied to a chair), multiple orgasms

I’m only doing a couple of the February Filth Fest, and this is day/track 25! free use/spit play, and i chose the latter (once more)! i know almost nothing about spit play so i hope its good!

And if you want to know what other days I’m doing? You’ll just have to wait and see ;) This is the second to last one!

-

“Baby, can you come here for a minute?” Your boyfriend, San, calls for you and your head pops up from the book you were reading. It wasn’t very interesting anyway, something you had to read for class, so you have no qualms about putting it down and seeing what San needs. He’s currently in the computer room, waiting for you with a large and mischievous grin on his face.

“What’s that look for,” you laugh, approaching him and leaning down to peck his lips. “You look like a cat who swallowed a bird.” San pouts at the analogy but he can’t really fight it.

San sighs, his eyes crinkling with a smile and you can’t help but kiss him again at the adorable sight. “I just had an idea. Hear me out, okay?”

You laugh but plop into your chair next to him. “Shoot.”

“So.” San seems almost embarrassed but the smile on your face doesn’t waver and he squares his shoulders. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to bet with me. You know how you’ve been playing league pretty competitively lately?”

You nod. Your friends roped you into playing ranked games with them and you’ve somehow made your way as a platinum player. Every so often, San would join you and your friends in playing games and every time he does, you’re reminded of how he used to be a diamond level. “Yeah, why? You wanna play again?”

San chuckles. “Kind of. I don’t want to go the competitive route again, but I want to play one game with you.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. You may be good now, but you’re pretty sure San has been practising behind your back. “What do I get if I win?”

San’s smile grows wider. “You can do whatever you want with me in bed. But the same goes for me if I win. Deal?”

You hum. “Sure, but we get to pick each other’s champions.”

Without another word, San holds out his hand and you give it a firm shake. “I’ll have you play Neeko.”

You snort. “Well, you picked so nicely you can play Akali. I’d let you be Graves but I’ve never played against one.” San leans over to smack your leg but you dodge it with a giggle.

San sighs but his eyes are full of fondness. “Of course, so kind. Now, I hope you’re ready to get your ass beat.” His words are tender but he’s not playing around. He’s both competitive and horny and he’ll do whatever to win. And you won’t lie, you’re enjoying the idea of it too.

“I think you might be talking to yourself, Sannie,” you wink. “I hope you like getting pegged.”

-

The beginning of the match was fairly easy. The bots, of course, were evenly matched and you and San were fairly even. Although you tend to scale more late-game and San does best in mid-game, you were playing it safe.

“Ah, fuck!” You squawk when the opposing top just shows up, stunning you and San lands his first kill. “That was so mean,” you complain and San chuckles, leaning past his computer screen to pat your knee.

“Sorry, baby, that’s the game,” he hums before narrowing his eyes to reconcentrate. You find it hotter than you should. Unfortunately, after your death, San got a leg up and it’s hard to pick up the slack. And with how close the two of you were in skill, that small difference turned into a big difference. In no time whatsoever, your nexus is already on the brink of death and no matter how hard you try, you end up losing.

“Fuck,” you whine, pulling off your headphones and slinging them around your neck. “That was so close I could almost imagine my victory.”

San snickers, rolling his chair over to practically flop onto your body. “Sorry, baby, but it looks like I’m the winner here.”

You pout playfully, carding your fingers through his soft hair. “Fine, fine. What do you wanna do,” you concede, bending down to kiss his temple.

San hums but you know he’s not really thinking about it. You’ve known him long enough that you can tell that he had been planning this for a while. “I wanna eat you out.”

His words cause you to stiffen and turn your eyes away. You’ve always disliked the idea of you receiving oral. Not because you find it gross, of course. You like sucking dick, what difference is there? Your past boyfriends offered before, you just didn’t take them up on it and they didn’t press the issue. It just stems from your insecurities about your vagina, you suppose.

In your eyes, it’s too weird-looking. And you know San is just happy to do whatever but you can’t get over your mental block. But as San stares up at you, you sigh. You’re too prideful to back out. It’s not like it’s the worst thing San could’ve chosen. You just don’t like it. It’d be like if you won and wanted to peg him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t–” San tries to help you when it takes you a tad too long to respond but you shake your head.

“It’s okay. You can.”

San’s eyes brighten and his lips twitch but he sits up, a little more serious. “Are you absolutely sure? I don’t want to make you feel like you had to.” And your heart blooms with appreciation for his words. And it only makes you want to trust him more.

“I am.”

—

Your body is stiff in the chair you’re tied loosely to as you anticipate what's to come. A blindfold rests over your eyes and it's almost barely see-through so you can see the shadows moving around you but not what it is. You're not quite sure what you expect but the unsurety of it all makes your thighs clench.

“You're so tense,” San's voice floats towards you and you can almost feel his presence as he comes to stand in front of you. “Are you ready?”

At your nod, his hand comes to rest on your bare thigh, nothing covering your lower half except the hem of your shirt. “Don't worry, I'll make you feel good, baby.”

Before you can even respond, his breath ghosts over your cunt and your breath stops in your throat. He giggles at how stiff you're holding yourself before he presses a soft kiss to the junction of your inner thigh. And another. And another.

“Hurry up already,” you groan. “Can't get this over with if you take five years–” Your words are cut off as soon as San places a kiss to your clit, pleasure shooting up your spine. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as your hips jerk at the sensation.

“Come on, don’t be shy. I want to hear all your pretty moans,” San hums, pressing another kiss to your clit as his tongue darts out to flick at it. “Taste so good baby, can’t believe I finally get to do this. Been dreaming about eating you for dessert and now I finally get to. So perfect for me.”

Your thighs are so tense, both from your nerves and from the feeling of his tongue pressing against your folds. “San–” you groan, clenching so hard you feel you may get a cramp in your hip, but San’s having none of that. His thumbs press into the junction connecting your thighs and torso, and you hiss at the pressure. “Fuck,” you groan.

You can hear the slick sounds of San lapping at your pussy, his nose pressing into your clit so perfectly you fear you may come already. His fingers are pressing slowly into you as he licks around them. “Fuck, you’re squeezing around me so well,” he groans. “So needy, look at you.”

Without warning, he spits on your pussy, and you gasp at the sensation of his saliva dripping down your heated skin. “San!” You don’t know how to react and your boyfriend chuckles at your astonishment. He bends down, licking at the mixture of your slick and his spit, kissing your clit again as he bites at the flesh.

A high-pitched whine escapes your throat as his teeth scrape against your folds and your hips kick up as you reach your high, coming with a groan. It feels like you’re about to pee, just so much more intense, and your core clenches as your head is thrown back in bliss. San’s tongue leaves your folds although his fingers are still pumping inside of you.

“Fuck, babe, I didn’t know you could squirt,” he says, voice filled with awe. “Fuck.” He spits again on your pussy, flattening his tongue to lick a long stripe up it and your breath catches at the feeling.

“Oh God,” you groan, eyes fluttering shut as your teeth work into your spit-covered lower lip. “Fuck, it’s so much, Sannie.”

San hums, mouth still pressed against your sopping cunt and if you think hard enough, you can just imagine how shiny his face must be after eating you out for what seems like hours. “You’re just so perfect, how could I stop?” he groans, the vibrations in your cunt making you twitch. “Colour?”

“Fuck– green,” you cry, trying to grind down on the chair, and San chuckles, puffing his warm breath onto your nether regions. “Sannie, please–”

Without another word, he spits onto his free hand, pressing his palm onto your clit and rubbing it in small circles. You can’t help but arch your back, whimpers and gasps leaving your lips like you’re getting paid for every sound you make. The light filtering through your blindfold is suddenly covered, and before you can even register what’s happening, San’s lips press against yours and you eagerly accept his kiss.

You can taste yourself in his mouth as you lick into it, mouth falling open as San spits in it. “Swallow,” he commands, and you rush to do so, eyes rolling back in your head as his fingers pump inside of you and the hand that was rubbing your clit moves up to pinch and knead your breast.

“Nng, San, I’m close again,” you warn, and San laughs, kissing down your neck and biting at your shoulder.

“Ah, again? So needy, begging for me,” he hums, mouth travelling down to suck at your other boob, his teeth scraping over your nipple. “You’re so pretty, (Y/N), taste so good, I could eat you up for hours.”

And, true to his word, he presses his tongue against your flushed skin, dragging it down to taste the mixture of sweat and come until it reaches your clit again. With a groan, he slurps at your sensitive bud, nipping at it.

“Shit–” you cry out, legs jerking. San laughs, drawing his fingers out of your cunt and away from your chest as he pins your legs down to have uninterrupted access. The hot muscle of his tongue slowly presses into you, flicking at your convulsing flesh so perfectly. With so many sensations overcoming your body, you feel like you might die as you reach your second orgasm of the night.

It washes over you wave after wave, and San’s tongue won’t stop pushing in and out of you at a slowing speed. “So perfect for me,” he repeats himself as he sighs against your quivering pussy. “You’re dripping so much for me. Eat you so well you can’t stop, hmm?”

“Fuck off,” you gasp, although there’s not much bite to your words. Not when San spreads your lower lips and presses his tongue impossibly further into your wet heat. “Ah, shit.”

As much as he likes to tease you, San doesn’t want to overwhelm you and he slows down, letting you come down from your high without too much overstimulation. Your body feels limp on the chair, your legs jello. You feel San’s breath on your temple right before he kisses it as he unties your wrists and pulls off your blindfold.

You blink blearily up at him, a smile forming at the sight of how wrecked he looks just as much as you. His hair is a mess and his crooked grin is shining with his spit and your slick. You grab his collar, unable to resist pulling him for another kiss as your hand wanders down to press against the obvious bulge in his slacks.

“Ah–” San sighs at the pressure, just letting you unzip his pants and pull out his thick cock, your thumb rubbing the head of it. “You don’t have–”

You interrupt him by leaning down and pressing your lips against the tip, letting your spit dribble down the length of it before enveloping half of it in your mouth. As you reach down to fondle his balls, you keep his dick resting in your mouth, spit pooling and sliding down the veins.

San looks ready to blow already, his eyes squeezed shut and his hand gripping your hair. It makes your heart and cunt throb at how beautiful he looks and you scrape your teeth gently against him. With an almost pained groan, he comes into your mouth and you swallow the bitter taste with a sigh and hum.

The hold he has on your hair loosens and his hand falls to cup your face to bring you back up to him for another long kiss. “Thanks for letting me do this,” San smiles against your lips and you tug him closer by his belt loops.

“Thanks for doing this,” you smile right back. “Next time, I’ll win.”

[dejaonline]

same space | shuriri x spoiled!black!fem!reader

Summary: you and shuri have a unique romantic history—the two of you have been bonded by an “arrangement”, but it’s been a good while since you’ve seen each other last. What happens when a routine drunk call + rescue reveals that it is no longer just the two of you.

Content includes: mentions of drugs and alcohol, swearing, semi-offensive insults.

Translations:

nkosazana- princess

umhle nkosazana yam- you look beautiful, my princess

Author’s note: ahh! Baby’s first fic! I am extremely nervous posting this, but i’m equally just as excited. I wanna say thank you to my baby boo @prettymrswright for all of her help and encouragement throughout the process. my tummy is achinggg (anxious girlies stand up!) but i cannot wait to hear what you guys think! thank ya’ll in advance for reading <3

Tagging some of my favsss: @prettymrswright @sapphicvqmpires @kisskourt @inmyheadimobsessed @pvnks0ul @vampzxi @quintessencewrites

Shuri took a deep breath, bracing herself for the chaos awaiting her just behind the heavy doors of the mansion. She could feel the music up through her arm as she pushed through the barrier.

She stepped inside and took in her surroundings. Glitter covered the marble floors, shimmering beneath the beams of light coming from one of the many disco balls hanging down from the high ceilings. A neon ‘Studio 54’ sign was mounted on the wall surrounded by vintage photographs and abstract art pieces.

To the left was a dimly-lit lounge with large, plush earth-toned couches and loveseats. People dressed in rhinestone covered jumpsuits and bell bottoms were socializing throughout the space, some smoking or sitting at the bar with decorated martini glasses.

The young royal ventured down a dark hallway to the right of her, following the sound of music emitting from the commodious ballroom. Colorful rays of light bounced off the walls and beneath Siri’s black boots, multi-colored tiles danced around to the beat.

The queen stood out amongst the sea of metallic gogo boots and fringe. Her slender frame was concealed beneath a black, oversized blazer and perfectly tailored pants to match. Her wandering eyes hid behind her favorite pair of black shades.

Shuri did her best to avoid getting sandwiched between a couple of inebriated bodies thrashing around her. She swiveled her head, attempting to locate you amongst the crowd until finally spotting you.

You were tucked away in a roped off section, attention focused on someone sitting dangerously close to you in the conversation pit. In the center sat a glass table, littered with empty liquor bottles, ashtrays, and assorted sizes of plastic bags. Your smooth, rich skin was covered in a sheer, floor length gown. Diamonds cascaded in detailed patterns across the fabric and tufts of feathers decorated the sleeves and hem, sweeping the silver open-toed platform heels on your feet. Your fresh braids lay parted down the center, hanging down to your lower back. You looked opulent and sexy in the iconic gown. The shimmer on your eyelids and glossy lips catching the light.

You sat with your legs crossed, one arm stretched out beside you and the other resting on your thigh while you sat back engaged in a conversation with a girl in a beaded mini dress. You watched her lips as she chatted about..stuff.

Your liquor induced arousal was immediately redirected once you caught sight of the slim figure looming behind the stranger.

“I hate to cut you off baby, but my ride is here.”

You eyed Shuri from head to toe, lingering on the bit of exposed chest behind her blazer. You leaned forward to plant a quick kiss on the girl's left cheek before standing to take Shuri’s awaiting hand.

She pressed her palm against the small of your back, steadying you.

“You okay to walk, nkosazana?”

You looked to Shuri with big, pleading eyes and she took the hint. She wrapped one of your arms around the back of her neck and scooped you up into her arms bridal style.

The two of you made your way back to the entrance. You were highly intoxicated and giggling in Shuri’s hold, your head pressed against her chest. You caught a whiff of her signature scent, the mix of sweetness and musk that you recognized as Tom Ford Vanille Fatale. You bought it for her a while back and it had been her favorite ever since.

Meanwhile, Shuri was playing it cool, trying not to make it obvious how happy she was to have you this close again. She cracked a smile at how easily tickled you became at her praise.

Although the noise level had significantly quieted down, Shuri whispered into you again.

“You look beautiful, my love.”

Another giggle escaped you and it was music to Shuri’s ears.

“Thank you, shuri bear”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that, y/n” Shuri huffed before letting you down, her still wrapped around you until the swaying ceased.

“Oh, by the way, this is Riri.”

Shuri softly tapped on the tinted window, prompting the stranger to roll it down.

Riri sat stone-faced and unamused. Her sharp jaw clenched in annoyance before she threw an uninterested two finger wave your way. She still had not looked in your direction, but your gaze locked in on her. She sat slouched in the front seat of Shuri’s Maserati Quattroporte, wearing a baggy denim jacket over a tight fitting white crop top with matching baggy jeans.

Your attention focused on the neat star design braided into the side of her head and the joint tucked behind her ear.

Even drunk, you could sense that she didn’t like you. Or at least she didn’t care much for you. She didn’t even know you, how could she not like you?

“You good, Cher?”

Riri’s low voice pulled you from your thoughts and you tightened up immediately, flipping your braids back and straightening out your dress. You wouldn’t let her see you sweat, but can admit you were impressed she caught the reference. You threw on a fake smile before bending down to reach her level.

‘You’re in my seat, Riri—“

Before she could respond Shuri snatched you away from the window.

“Hey watch the dress!” You shouted.

Shuri pulled you around to the driver’s side pushing you up against the side of the car. You yanked your arm out of her grip.

“The fuck was that for?”

Shuri stepped closer to you, the front of her body touching yours.

“Riri is my girlfriend, she’s not riding in the back.”

You stared blankly at Shuri as your thoughts began to race again.

Girlfriend? When did this happen? How did this happen?

It seemed Shuri could read your mind.

“We can talk about this later. Just sit in the back and be good for me, please? Riri likes to fight.”

Shuri opened the back door, helping you inside. She was about to close the door, but stopped to pop her head back inside the vehicle, taking your chin between her thumb and index finger.

“Play nice” she whispered

Your eyes followed Shuri as she hopped back into the front seat. The engine purred to life and the three of you were off.

You stared out the window at the star lit sky, watching the lavish residence disappear from view, thinking back to the last time you had seen Shuri.

Four months ago the two of you were inseparable. Showing up to parties together, showering each other with gifts, sneaking away to private islands. It may have seemed extravagant to others, but it was a lifestyle the two of you were accustomed to.

You enjoyed your time together, but both parties especially enjoyed the freedom that came with not committing.

It was no secret that you and Shuri had undeniable chemistry. She would do anything for you, go anywhere with you.

The reason you weren’t in Riri’s position was because you didn’t need to be. Girlfriend or not, Shuri was never really out of reach. Your history ran deep and you had been through a lot together. Somewhere down the line, friends became more and things became romantic.

You both saw other people, nothing serious. Shuri usually had a few girls on rotation. It didn’t really bother you because she would abandon whomever she was using to occupy her time with to be with you.

It was one of the things you loved most about her. She was kind and attentive, kept you in check, never let you get lazy or unfocused.

On top of that she really knew how to f—

“-uck is she back there daydreaming about?” Riri snapped.

“She does that a lot” Shuri laughed.

“You wanna hit this or not? Don’t got all night.”

Riri held the lit joint between her fingers, pointing it in your direction.

“Thanks.” You replied dryly

You took it from her, then began to examine the bubblegum pink rolling paper.

“You roll this, Riri?”

“Yeah. Problem?”

You didn’t miss the small smirk that crept upon her face as she awaited your response.

“You used my rolling papers.” You stated matter-of-factly.

Your voice came out more shrill than you intended.

Shuri cut her eyes to you through the rear view mirror. It was a look you had come to learn was a silent warning.

“You left them behind the last time you were over, nkosazana”

You looked back over to Riri, who had now cracked a full blown smile. She watched in amusement as you took a long drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs.

You blew a path directly at her with the remaining smoke, letting it drift around her chiseled face and creating the illusion of her sitting among the clouds.

Her gaze had yet to leave yours. She was studying you: the way your nose scrunched up in annoyance, how your plump lips seemed to always sit in a permanent pout, and fixating on the way your chest increasingly rose and fell.

Maybe it was the weed or maybe it was the fact that Riri was stunning. Her eyes were intense as they bore into you, it made you nervous. It also made you extremely horny.

The car finally rolled into Shuri’s garage. And although you felt a suffocating heaviness in the vehicle, neither you nor Riri moved. You both knew better than to touch your own door handle.

Shuri went for your door first. You stepped out and pushed right past her, leaving no room for conversation. The clicking of your heels echoed throughout the vast garage as you stormed off, hips swaying beneath your dress.

The couple silently watched your figure stride past the rows of parked vehicles and vanish behind the door, making your way inside the house.

Shuri sighed deeply, carefully contemplating her next move. She grabbed Riri’s hands and kissed her knuckles before guiding her inside.

Inside, you made a b-line straight for the kitchen. You swung open one of the cabinets just above your head, snatching a wine glass from inside before slamming it shut.

Shuri was leaned up against the wall, right next to the small space that housed her impressive wine collection. Her eyes traveled down to the glass in your hand and she rolled her eyes, turning to grab the handle.

She disappeared inside, a look of contemplation on her face as she scanned the rows of bottles. Finally, she reached for a 1973 Chateau Montelena Chardonnay. She sauntered toward you, sending you a cryptic smile before heading right for the same cabinet you were just abusing.

In her hand she held two more wine glasses.

“I taught you better than that, y/n.” She teased.

Shuri made her way into the living room and you followed behind.

Riri sat alone on one of the couches, her hand rested over her face.

Shuri stood before you two, looking as beautiful as ever, oozing with charm and sex appeal. She set two of the glasses down, prompting you to add yours to the mix. You jumped at the ‘pop’ of the cork, anxious to have the glass back in your grasp.

“I think we should play a game, get to know each other a little better.” Her accent was thick, but it was no match for the tension in the air.

“And why would we do that?” You questioned.

The last thing you were interested in doing was learning anything about Riri. You felt you had gathered enough information about her from the ride to Shuri’s place: her name and the fact that she has a nasty attitude. Which is rich coming from you.

“Because, princess,” Shuri paused as she filled each glass. “If I’m going to keep both of you in my life, I want you two to bond, learn to get along.” She passed one to Riri, then you, before picking up the last for herself.

Before she could take a sip, her kimoyo beads hummed to life, signaling that someone was trying to contact her.

“I’ll be right back” was all she said before rushing out of the room.

Silence once again fell upon the house. You sipping from your glass, Riri staring you down from across the room. She was the first to speak up.

“So, what escort service did she find your ass from?”

You choked on your drink, appalled at the accusation.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, Keebler elf?”

You were trying to keep your voices down, afraid Shuri would hear from wherever she ran off to.

Riri stood up from her seat, coming face to face with you.

“There’s no way someone would be desperate enough to cling onto someone with a whole ass girlfriend the way that you do without getting paid for it.”

You stood your ground, pushing your upper body up to meet Riri halfway, mere inches away from her face.

“And you’d have to be one dumb bitch to think that title has any meaning.”

“Y/N!”

Before you could register the end of that exchange, Shuri grabbed you up for the second time that night, dragging you down the corridor and into a guest room. She slammed the door behind her, shoulders raising and dropping as she breathed heavily.

Stupidly, you opened your mouth to defend yourself.

“Shuri, that’s not fair, she was being awful to me—“

“I do not care! That is my partner, you do not speak to her like that. You disrespect her, you disrespect me. You’re lucky she even allowed you to step foot in our home!”

Our home. Your throat tightened at the sound. You were starting to feel sick.

“I should have told you earlier, I’m sorry.”

Shuri kneeled in front of you, taking your hands into hers.

“I met Riri a while back, when I went on that trip to Massachusetts.”

“That was six months ago.” You were trying to keep up with the timeline of events that Shuri was explaining to you.

“Yes. We kept in touch, nothing serious.” She peered up at you, waiting for your reaction.

“Go on.”

She cleared her throat before continuing.

“Of course you know, I got this place here in New York to be closer to you. But then I had to return home for a while.”

Things were starting to add up. You remembered having to say goodbye to Shuri, how much you had missed her over the last 4 months.

“Riri came to help me in the lab and we grew to enjoy each other's company. Not in the way that I’m used to, this was real. We made things official and when all the chaos settled, I asked her to return to the city with me.”

You were speechless for a moment, taking in Shuri’s words. You didn’t find yourself being angry, you had no right. The two of you were never exclusive and until a few weeks ago, you didn’t even entertain the thought of it. It had never bothered you that Shuri preferred an open relationship, but hearing that she was serious about Riri struck you to your core.

“Does she know?” You whispered.

“About us?” You nodded in response.

“Yes, I told her up front. My love for you never ceases. No matter who I am with, no matter where I go. You may not have chosen me, my love, but I will always choose you.”

Classic Shuri, girl always had a way with words.

“So how does this work?”

“Riri doesn't care for monogamy, that is how this even works in the first place. We’ll have to set some boundaries, of course, but I believe that we can figure this out. You just have to trust me, okay?”

It was a lot to consider. To say that you and Riri were at odds was an understatement, and establishing mutual tolerance would take some work. But you saw how much this meant to Shuri.

“I missed you, Shuri” you said honestly. Fatigue began to overcome you, and Shuri knew she didn’t have much longer to converse with you.

You laid back onto the bed while Shuri removed your heels. She covered you with a blanket and bent down towards your face. Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing second.

“We’ll talk some more in the morning. Get some rest now. Did I already tell you how beautiful you look?”

“Yeah, but you can tell me again.”

A big smile broke across Shuri’s face. She placed soft kisses on your cheeks, one after another, and lingered as she made contact with your forehead.

“umhle nkosazana yam”

It was the last thing you heard before sleep carried you off.

[aveli-li]

Safe word + Grayson

where the safe word is used and Grayson takes care of you.

warnings: use of safe word (Kerosene), usage of toys (wand vibrator), bondage play (ropes and handcuff), Grayson is fantastic in aftercare.

Grayson had strapped you onto the armchair, as well as the wand vibrator buzzing straight in your clit. You couldn't see her from the bandage that was covering your eyes, giving a mysterious feeling from only sensing her walking around you and hearing her voice driving you to many orgasms, and the wetness that dripped from the chair was making a mess on the floor already, but Grayson didn't stopped. You didn't asked her to, the nasty and lustful words coming from that gravy and sexy voice adding with the encouragement to gove her one more orgasm that she prayed in your ear added to the warm feeling creeping up your body to snap and flood you whole. Your legs trembled without control. You shook and tossed but couldn't make much movement from the restraints in your arms and legs. Your orgasm began crashing like waves into the shore, and it burned inside you. But once the feeling kicked in, you panicked. The feeling was beyond your thought, it was overwhelming, your clit hurt and legs went numb from the force you made against the rope to push you away from the toy. Grayson was quick to notice how your breath caught a strangled cry and got alarmed. Once she saw you tossing differently against the chair she pressed the key on her pocket and reached for her small knife on the other, which matched with the cry of yours save words.

“Kerosene Kerosene please please please stop I - I can't. Grayson!!” Your voice cracks, and small sobs begin to leave your lips. Grayson had already turned off the toy from her controller and undone the handcuff on your wrists and was cutting the ropes on your legs, such precision and calm to not flinch your skin or cause more panic to you. Moving to remove the blue bandage that covered your eyes.

The salty waters filled your cheeks as you saw her, jumping from your seat caused nothing but a sting of pain on your hips but Grayson caught you in her arms and moved your body to the near bed. “I'm here, my dear. I'm right here.” Your cries sinked her heart as your form contorted into a half moon to hug part of your body and let the tears fall down and relieve the bad feeling, “Can I touch you?.” You heard Grayson and gave a small nod in response, her hand caressing your arm slowly to not apply too much pressure and trigger anything more.

“Are you feeling good to talk? Honey, I need you to answer something to me.” Her voice was sweet and worried, low and reassuring, “Did you push yourself to one more because I asked you to do it?”

You snapped your eyes open, never in your life and after you would do something like that with her. Grayson was a gentle woman, always putting you first, showering you with the best, having you as her partner felt like you were royalty, plus the delicate ways she had talked to you about all this act never made you doubt or do something out of force, just because you wanted to please her and mostly important giving up your comfort and pleasure.

Trying to control your voice from the cries, you weakly reassured her about the moment. “I would never do this, I just thought I could handle it, but then… when it happened, everything was too much, and I said the word.” Tears fell down a bit more from your confession, feeling so vulnerable would cause you to feel weak and absent but Grayson leaned down to place a soft kiss on your cheek, wipe the misbehaved tears that messed your pretty face and make you feel like a diamond. Her diamond.

“Thank you for telling me this, my dear, and most of all, I'm so proud of you for not letting go of your well-being. You used the safe word well, and I'm proud of you.”

She stayed by your side until you calmed down, the hand on your arm were still drawing circles on your skin, the comfort brought from her words and the physical warmth were drifting you to sleep but Grayson's gravy voice pulled you back in.

“Hey hey now honey, I know you need rest, but I must've taken you to clean before you sleep. How about a quick warm shower, and I'll make the bed out thay comforter you love and cuddle by your side until the sun shines tomorrow.”

You smile at her, eyes getting heavier after every sentence, but you make an effort to get up just to be cupped by Grayson's arms that carried you to the bathroom. After a healthy cleaning, you were in your comfortable clothes again, the comforter wrapped around you and your lover, and the sleep quickly came with a kiss on your forehead.

taglist <3 :: @naoblack87 || @luv-tara-05 || @willow-nox || @ambessas-doll || @supalcina-3 || @sevikassluttywaist

Thank you for the support

[wowzees]

Charles x reader day out on the yacht, just fluffiness

a/n: sorry this took so long! jst found out my dog has cancer and am trying to get the expenses to care for treatment, or ill have to put him down. hope you enjoy!

The sun glimmered on the water as Charles’s yacht, a sleek white vessel called Sedici, cut through the turquoise waves. You leaned against the railing, feeling the salty breeze mess with your hair, and a calm washed over you. It was like the whole world had melted away, leaving only the gentle sway of the boat and the rhythmic sound of waves splashing against the hull.

"Ready for some fun?" Charles asked, his voice low and teasing next to you. He handed you a pair of sunglasses, the lenses reflecting the bright sunlight.

You put them on with a grin. "Always ready for an adventure with you."

The day was a mix of sunshine and laughter. You lounged on the deck, sipping champagne, soaking up the rays, and letting the sun warm your skin. You took turns steering the yacht, the wind rushing through your hair as you steered through the sparkling water. Every now and then, Charles would steer the yacht off course just to mess with you, sending you both into fits of giggles.

You tried your hand at waterskiing, holding onto the rope as Charles expertly navigated the boat. Of course, you wiped out a couple of times, but Charles was quick to pull you back onto the boat with a big laugh. His joy was contagious, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling lighter than you’d ever felt before.

Later, you swam in the crystal-clear water, your skin warming under the sun as you explored the underwater world with snorkels and masks. Schools of bright, colorful fish darted through the coral reefs, and you even saw a dolphin leaping through the waves, graceful and free.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the water, Charles led you to the bow of the yacht. He knelt down on one knee, the setting sun casting a golden glow across his face. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. In his hand, he held a small velvet box.

"Y/N," he started, his voice low and full of emotion. "From the moment I met you, my life has been filled with a light I didn’t even know I was missing. You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known—smart, kind, and beautiful. With you, every day is an adventure. Every moment is a new joy."

He paused, his eyes locked on yours, searching for the right words. "Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, too emotional to say anything. You reached for his hand, your fingers intertwining. "Yes, Charles," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Yes, a thousand times yes."

He slid the ring onto your finger, the diamond sparkling in the fading sunlight. Then, without a word, he pulled you into a kiss, the taste of salt and champagne lingering on your lips. Holding onto him, you felt an overwhelming happiness rush through you—a sense of completeness you never thought was possible.

Above, the stars twinkled brightly, silently watching over your love. On the deck of Sedici, under the vast sky, you had found your forever.

The rest of the evening was a blur of champagne, laughter, and whispered promises. Charles, always the gentleman, insisted on serving you a gourmet dinner under the stars. As you ate, the conversation flowed easily, filled with shared jokes, stolen glances, and talks about your dreams for the future. You talked about everything—your hopes, your fears, your plans—and it felt like the two of you were creating a beautiful, shared story.

As the night deepened, the stars above seemed to grow even brighter, filling the sky with a magical light. Charles, with a glint in his eyes, pulled out a guitar from a hidden compartment on the yacht. He started playing a soft melody, his rich voice singing a love song that made your heart swell with emotions you didn’t even know you had. You listened, completely mesmerized, as he poured his heart into the song.

Later, you lay side-by-side on the deck, the boat gently rocking, lulling you both to sleep. Charles wrapped his arms around you, his warmth melting away any remnants of tension. You snuggled closer, inhaling the scent of the sea mixed with his cologne. In that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Just the two of you, alone under the stars, drifting in a sea of love and peace.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of seagulls and the soft lapping of waves against the hull. Charles was still asleep beside you, his face peaceful and relaxed. You smiled, watching him, the magic of the night still lingering in your heart. You knew this was just the start of something amazing—an adventure filled with love, laughter, and endless memories.

As you got ready to leave the yacht, a wave of sadness hit you. You didn’t want to leave this perfect world you’d created with Charles. But as you looked into his eyes, you knew that no matter where you went, you’d carry the memories of this perfect day with you.

As you drove away from the marina, you glanced back at Sedici, its white hull glowing in the sunlight. It was a bittersweet moment, saying goodbye to this chapter of your life. But you also knew the best was yet to come. You had found your soulmate, and their love was worth more than anything else in the world.

The journey ahead was full of excitement and possibility. You had a wedding to plan, a life to build together, and a future full of love to look forward to. But as you drove away, you couldn’t help but glance back at Sedici, a soft smile on your lips. It was a reminder of the magic you’d experienced and the love that had blossomed under the summer sun.

And as you looked back, you knew that the magic of that day, and the love you’d shared, would stay with you forever.