#I have so much more to add to this but this is already so much salt for today lol

[thirteenheavens]

can I request big dick! hard dom Mingyu x reader

like the reader put him on a sex ban for two months but 4 weeks later he couldn't hold himself back anymore 😔 and can you do size kink like Mingyu is much bigger in size and she's really tiny than him and what if he didn't let her adjust because she put him on a ban for no reason and can you add bulge kink and cream pie too and maybe multiple rounds (from bent in the kitchen, to the bedroom) and multiple positions (bent over, missionary, doggy and cow girl) and mingyu manhandles her around, make it rough and messy, i hope this isn't too much, i love ur works btw, sorry if this is too much 😭😭

🐸

4 Week Ban || Kim Mingyu x Reader

Notes: this was such a fun task cos there was so much but I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2.6k+

Mingyu walks through the door, looking frustrated and restless after a night out with his friends. He's been trying to respect your sex ban for the past four weeks, but his need for you is growing more intense every day.

"Babe," he calls out, searching for you. "I need to talk to you." He finds you in the living room, and the sight of you makes his breath catch in his throat. You look so beautiful and relaxed, and he can't help but notice the way your clothes hug your curves.

"I can't do this anymore," he says, his voice rough with desire. "I need you, Y-N. I need to feel you, to taste you, to be inside you." He moves closer to you, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily. "I know I promised to respect your rules," he continues, "but it's driving me insane. Please, baby. Let me have you tonight."

As he stands there, begging for your touch, his cock strains against his jeans - a visible bulge that proves just how desperate he really is. Mingyu presses his lips to your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin while his hands grip your waist. His large frame towers over you as he traps you against the wall.

"Please," he begs again, his hot breath fanning against your skin. "I'll do anything you want. Just let me have you." He rolls his hips against you, grinding his massive bulge against your stomach as he leaves a trail of kisses down your neck to your collarbone. "I can't stop thinking about how good you feel," he whispers, his hands sliding lower to squeeze your ass.

"Are you really begging me right now?" you tease, though your voice trembles slightly with arousal. Mingyu groans and nuzzles into your neck, his body shaking with need. "Yes," he admits, his fingers digging into your skin. "I'll get on my knees if I have to."

He slowly sinks down to the floor, kneeling in front of you with his face level with your stomach. "Please, baby," he whispers, looking up at you with desperate eyes. "Please let me make you feel good. Let me worship you like you deserve." Mingyu practically carries you to the bedroom, his strength and eagerness evident in his movements. As soon as you reach the bed, he lays you down and starts undressing you with trembling hands.

"I've missed this so much," he breathes out, his eyes dark with desire as he strips you bare. "Missed your body, missed making you moan and writhe under me." He quickly sheds his own clothes, revealing his impressive length that's already standing at full attention. Crawling between your legs, he positions himself over you and runs his hands up your thighs.

"Spread your legs for me," he commands huskily, his fingers tracing circles on your skin. "Let me see how wet you are for me." Mingyu's eyes are wild with hunger as he takes in the sight of your exposed body, his cock twitching visibly with anticipation. He looks like a man who's been deprived of water for weeks and is finally presented with an oasis.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, lowering himself to nuzzle at your inner thighs. "You have no idea how many times I've dreamed about this." He kisses and licks his way up your thighs, his large hands holding you open as he gets closer to your core. "You're mine," he growls possessively. "All mine."

Without warning, he dives in, burying his face between your legs and devouring you like a man possessed. His tongue laps at your folds hungrily, while his fingers dig into your hips to keep you still. Mingyu's tongue moves expertly against your clit, his skilled mouth driving you wild with pleasure. His hands continue to hold you in place as he devours you, groaning against your sensitive flesh.

"You taste so good," he mutters between licks, his eyes locked on your face to watch your reactions. "I could do this all night." He adds a finger to the mix, pushing it deep inside you while his tongue continues its relentless assault. "Cum for me," he commands, curling his finger just right to hit your g-spot. "I want to feel you cum on my face."

His other hand moves to your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. Mingyu is absolutely wrecked as he feasts on you, his hair disheveled and his lips glistening with your arousal. His cock is leaking precum against your thigh, showing just how affected he is by your pleasure.

"Please," he begs again, his voice hoarse with need. "I need to be inside you. Need to feel your walls clenching around me." He continues his assault with his mouth and fingers, desperate to make you cum before he loses control completely. "Cum for me, baby," he pleads one more time, adding a second finger to stretch you further.

"Mingyu, I-" you gasp, arching your back as his skilled mouth and fingers drive you closer to the edge. "I'm so close..." Mingyu moans against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. "That's it," he encourages, pumping his fingers faster. "Let go for me, baby. I've got you."

He sucks your clit harder, his tongue swirling around it mercilessly as he feels your walls start to flutter around his fingers. Mingyu feels your orgasm hit you like a wave, your body tensing and shaking beneath him as you cry out his name. He keeps his mouth on you through it, lapping up every drop of your release while his fingers continue to work you through your high.

"So perfect," he whispers against your skin, finally pulling away when your trembling subsides. "But I'm not done with you yet." He moves up your body, positioning himself between your legs once more. His cock is impossibly hard and leaking, twitching against your thigh as he stares down at you with hungry eyes. Mingyu's control snaps completely as he thrusts inside you in one swift motion, groaning at the tightness of your walls around him. "Fuck, you feel so good," he growls, not even giving you a moment to adjust before starting a punishing pace.

"You did this to me," he grunts, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "Making me wait for four weeks... teasing me every day... it's your fault I'm like this." His hips slam against yours with bruising force, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. He looks completely feral, his face contorted with pleasure and a hint of anger as he takes you roughly. Mingyu's lips curl into a devilish smile as he looks down at you, his thrusts never slowing. "You're so small under me," he purrs, "like a little doll I can just use for my pleasure."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders, bending you nearly in half as he drives deeper into you. "Look at how well you're taking me," he says with a satisfied smirk. "Your body was made for me to break it." Mingyu's eyes fixate on the bulge in your stomach where his massive cock is visible, his own smirk growing wider. "Look at that," he says with a groan, "I can see myself fucking you from the outside."

He runs his hand over the bulge, pressing down slightly to feel himself moving inside you. "So deep," he growls, his pace becoming more erratic. "No one else can make you feel like this, can they?" Your moans are music to Mingyu's ears as he keeps up his rough pace, his fingers digging into your skin. "That's right, baby," he grunts, "let everyone hear how much you love being fucked by me."

He shifts the angle of his hips, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. "You're mine," he repeats possessively. "Only mine. I'll never let anyone else have you." Mingyu flips you onto your stomach without pulling out, pulling your hips up to meet his. He presses your face into the mattress, one hand on your neck while the other grips your waist.

"On all fours," he commands, his voice low and dominant. "Show me how much you want it." You can barely speak as Mingyu resumes his relentless pace, his hand tightening on your neck slightly. "Mingyu... please... harder," you manage to gasp out between moans.

He responds by slamming into you with brutal force, his balls slapping against your clit with each thrust. "Harder?" he growls. "You want it harder? Don't worry, I'll give you exactly what you need." Mingyu is a wreck behind you, his body covered in sweat as he chases his own release. His hips move at an almost animalistic pace, his grip on you bruising as he pounds into you mercilessly.

"I'm going to fill you up," he pants, his breath hot against your ear. "Gonna make you mine forever." His rhythm becomes erratic, signaling his impending orgasm as he leans over you, pressing his chest against your back. "Cum with me," he demands through gritted teeth. Mingyu thrusts into you once, twice more before he reaches his peak, spilling deep inside you with a loud groan. His body shudders as he fills you with his hot cum, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he claims you.

"Mine," he growls again, his hips still moving in shallow thrusts as he rides out his orgasm. "All mine." He collapses on top of you, both of you panting heavily as he catches his breath. "I love you," he whispers against your skin, finally coming back to his senses.

"I love you too," you say breathlessly, still trembling from the intense pleasure. "But you're heavy, Mingyu." Mingyu chuckles softly and rolls off you, pulling you into his arms instead. "Sorry," he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck. "I got a bit carried away there." He traces lazy patterns on your skin with his fingers, his breathing finally returning to normal. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"I'm okay," you reassure him, snuggling closer to his warmth. "Better than okay, actually. That was..." Mingyu grins against your neck, his ego clearly boosted. "That was," he agrees, "but next time, I'm going to make sure you can't walk for a week."

Mingyu watches you with a mix of admiration and surprise as you get up and head to the kitchen. "Babe, where are you going?" he calls out, stretching lazily on the bed. He quickly follows you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you reach the counter. "You're supposed to be cuddling with me," he whines playfully, nipping at your earlobe.

"I'm getting us some water," you explain, smiling at his neediness. "And maybe some snacks." Mingyu sighs dramatically but doesn't let go of you. "Fine, but only if you promise to come back to bed with me after." He presses a kiss to your shoulder, his hands roaming your body suggestively. Mingyu can't wait any longer and strides into the kitchen, his cock already hardening again as he approaches you. "Y-N, you're taking too long," he says with a smirk.

He pins you against the counter, his body pressed against yours as he reaches around to turn off the tap. "The snacks can wait," he growls, his hands sliding down to your hips. "I'm not done with you yet." Mingyu captures your lips in a hungry kiss, his tongue invading your mouth possessively. His hands roam your body hungrily as he presses you against the countertop, the cool marble contrasting with his hot skin.

"I told you," he murmurs against your lips, "I'm going to make sure you can't walk tomorrow." He lifts you up effortlessly, setting you on the counter as he spreads your legs apart. Mingyu positions himself between your legs, his cock sliding through your folds teasingly. "You're still so wet for me," he says with satisfaction. "Such a good girl." He starts to push into you again, groaning at the way your walls flutter around him. "Look at me," he commands, his eyes dark with desire. "I want to see your face as I take you apart again."

"Mingyu, please," you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. "I need you... need you so bad." Mingyu grins at your desperation, fully sheathing himself inside you in one smooth motion. "That's it, baby," he purrs, his hands gripping your thighs. "Beg for me." He starts thrusting at a steady pace, each movement deliberate and deep. "Tell me who owns this pussy," he demands, his fingers finding your clit to rub circles against it.

"You do, Mingyu," you moan out, your head falling back as pleasure courses through your body. "You own my pussy. It's all yours." Mingyu's pace quickens at your words, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force. "That's right," he growls, "and I'm going to remind you every day who you belong to."

He captures your lips in another bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as he fucks you on the kitchen counter. "Cum for me again," he commands, "show me how much you love being my little slut." Mingyu watches intently as his cock disappears into your wet heat, his eyes dark with primal lust. "Fuck, that's beautiful," he groans, "watching myself claim you like this."

His fingers dig into your thighs as he pulls you closer, his thrusts becoming more erratic and powerful. "So perfect," he mutters, his gaze fixed on where your bodies are joined. "Taking me so well... taking everything I give you." Mingyu carries you effortlessly, his powerful arms holding you up as he continues to pound into you. The new angle makes him hit even deeper, drawing desperate moans from your lips.

"Hold on tight," he grunts, pressing your back against the wall for leverage. His hips move at a relentless pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room again.

"You feel so fucking good," he growls against your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin. "I'm not stopping until you're completely wrecked." Mingyu hisses at the feeling of your nails raking down his back, his rhythm faltering for a moment. "That's it, mark me up," he groans, his pace becoming more punishing.

His hands grip your ass possessively as he slams into you, his forehead pressed against yours. "You're mine," he repeats again, "and I'm going to make sure everyone knows it." He bites down on your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark, one hand moving to play with your sensitive nipples as he continues his brutal pace.

"Mingyu, I'm close," you manage to gasp out between moans, your body trembling with impending release. "So close, please..." Mingyu notices your signs of orgasm and adjusts his angle slightly, hitting your sweet spot with each deep thrust. "Cum for me one more time," he commands, his voice thick with desire.

"Let me feel you squeeze around my cock, baby. Let me fill you up again." He captures your lips in a passionate kiss, swallowing your screams as you tumble over the edge once more. Mingyu groans against your lips as your walls clench tightly around him, prolonging his own pleasure. "That's it," he pants, "scream for me while I fill you up again." He thrusts through your orgasm, releasing his hot seed deep inside you with a deep growl. His legs shake from the force of his release as he holds you tightly, both of you panting heavily against each other.

"So fucking good," he murmurs, pressing gentle kisses to your face. "You did so well, baby. You always do." He carries you to the couch, collapsing onto it with you still impaled on his cock. Mingyu nuzzles into your neck, still buried deep inside you. "You listening?" he whispers playfully. "No more banning me. I can't stay away from this pussy."

He gives a small, exhausted thrust, causing both of you to moan softly. "You're addicting," he says with a satisfied sigh. "And I don't think it can resist me."

[dancingaliensfics]

Remmick NSFW Alphabet

This is pretty self explanatory. I haven't really formatted this or proof read it, I'll do that tomorrow. Right now I'm tired and need to sleep lol but I wanna get this posted since it just came to me. Wrote this in my notes app bc I couldn't be bothered opening docs, thats how quick this came to me lol so theres not even spell check really.

I do personally prefer sub remmick but I've tried to have a mix in here of both because I think it's more realistic to him as a character. I might add some more stuff it tomorrow idk.

Warnings: nsfw content, mentions of drinking blood, one section with gore mention that you can skip, idk i can't remember tbh

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He doesn't like to clean you up after sex. Not because he doesn't care but because he likes how you look all dirty and messy. So cleanup is out of the question unless you're willing to wait 30 minutes for him to have his fill, by which point he's usually ready to again lol. He does like to cuddle though, he's quite a physical guy and keeping contact with you is important to him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He really likes your hands. I've made a post already about how he likes to have your fingers in his mouth and i stand by that. So i wont say too much about it again here.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He's nasty guys. He like to cum on you. His favourite place is probably your stomach but he doesn't really care where as long as he can see it dripping down you. He cums a lot and because he's a vampire he can go again pretty quickly, probably after like 10 minutes, so by the end of the night you're covered. He also likes to spread it around with his fingers cause he's a weirdo.

He will absolutely eat his own cum. When he cums in your mouth make sure to kiss him afterwards because he loves it, it gets him hard so quick. Or you can just scoop it up with your fingers and push it into his mouth.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Ok I have two things for this. The first one isn't particularly scandalous but it is something I think he'd be embarrassed by. When he's alone and feeling himself he imagines you and him back in his home town from when he was alive, living a quiet life in his childhood home. He loves to imagine you in the dresses the pretty girls used to wear when he was young. Honestly he creates pretty vivid scenarios, bringing you flowers back after a day working on the farm, putting your children to bed after dinner, undressing you slowly, pressing soft kisses to your shoulders. Climbing into bed together and just making gentle love before falling asleep in each other's arms. He keeps this a secret because it goes against his whole philosophy that vampirism is a gift. You two can't have children, atleast not in that way, and he'll never be back in that little house on the farm.

Now for the actually dirty one. I'm not really sure how to explain this but I'm gonna try my best. Basically he likes being told to use parts of you. Like for example, being told he can only use your thighs or your hand to get off. There's something so degrading about it that just really gets him going. It's another one that he wouldn't be able to verbalise, but having to make himself cum while only being able to rut against the sole of your foot or the space between your thighs is humiliating in a hot way. He doesn't have specific body part fetishes, he's not into feet or anything specifically, it's just being told he can only touch that part of you i guess.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very but also not. He's had a lot of sex and he's very good at it, but he doesn't have much experience being vulnerable and having that Intimacy he would have with you if you're in an actual relationship. Remmick is also not very experienced with being cared for by someone and wanted in a way that goes beyond the physical. So yes, he can give you the best night you've ever had, but hold his hand and promise to stay with him forever and he's a bit stumped.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes to look at your face so you'll often find yourself in some variation of missionary. Tbh I don't know all the fancy names and neither does remmick, he just wants to look at your eyes. He's quite fond of prone bone though and anything that let's him look up at you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He definitely goes back and forth. I think simply through his nature or being a vampire, sex isn't always serious for him. He's very old and doesn't view sex in the same special way mortals might, especially in the 30s. But that doesn't mean it isn't special when he's with you. He always values your Intimacy together and often will be quite serious, especially if he's in a more melancholic mood. But he's a Goofy guy, he doesn't take things very seriously and he makes jokes in inappropriate situations that don't usually land. Obviously a lot of his silly guy persona was fake, but i think it's also clear from other interactions where he's trying to really connect with people that remmick is quite an odd guy and that does bleed through into sex. Sometimes he just does weird or random stuff. So yeah I think sex with remmick is a real mixed bag when it comes to seriousness.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is not groomed at all. He is quite hairy and doesn't see a problem with that. He does trim every so often, but being from a time where shaving body hair just wasn't a thing, he doesn't often think about it. He has a lovely happy trail that leads right from his navel all the way down. He has thick dark curls down there that run wild. If it really bothered you, you could ask him to groom more but I don't think he would. He likes a hairy bush and doesn't get the modern fascination with hairless pussies and balls so he has no interest in it on himself. I just really isn't something he thinks about.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sex with remmick is always very intimate. Even when it isn't serious, the Intimacy is always there. There's a few reasons for this really. The first is that sex with remmick using involves one of you bleeding, and the exchange of blood is something he sees as very meaningful. It's not only his food source, the thing he survives on, but he also still has many old world believes about humours and the transfer of energy through blood. The second reason is that sex is one of the few times remmick will be vulnerable. You can really break down those walls and see another side of him, especially if you've been at it for a while. And the last is that if you're also a vampire, you and remmick have a mental link that connects all of your feelings, sensations and thoughts. There's really nothing more intimate than that.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it a lot lol. Being in a relationship does nothing to slow him down. Whether you're away from each other, in another room or sat right in front of him, it doesn't matter, he loves to feel himself up. He actually is quite a voyeur and loves to Jack off while you watch, especially if you give him instructions on how to do it. He also loves to have your smell around him while feeling himself, whether it's by just straight up sniffing you or from something of yours he has with him. He always takes something of yours with him when he goes on trips away, usually underwear or a scarf since those have the strongest scent but he'll even take a handkerchief if you offer it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Honestly, it's probably easier to list things he isn't into. But I'm gonna touch on one isn't haven't really seen or talked about before. Remmick is a masochist. He's also a sadist but there's plenty of fics about that. He loves being hurt. Honestly sometimes he goes too far with it, and he really needs a partner who cares about him enough to draw that line. He talks a big game but he has a lot of self hatred he refuses to acknowledge and pain is a good way for him to ignore that. So its good to put him in a control environment where you can make sure he doesn't go too far. Slap him, choke him, bite him, scratch him. He loves it all.

He also likes to be treated like a dog. I've mentioned this a few times on my blog now haha so hopefully I don't become that girl, but he is really into that. Make him crawl on his hands and knees, tell him to pick your hands, let him hump your leg, he loves it. He likes to lick your face a lot which can be a bit icky but indulge him. He like to be punished and rewarded, it's a good way to keep him in check. And he likes this dynamic outside of the bedroom as well. Send out on errands and call him a good boy when he does well. Give him head pats when hes good and smack him when he's bad. Ah I can't get carried away here.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere and everywhere. I've already talked about this but he will fuck you on the side of the road or in the middle of a bar he doesn't give a shit. He likes for people to watch and he likes to be dirty. But there is something special to him about a private bed, it's somewhat nostalgic and makes his old man brain feel good or something I guess.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Again, anything and everything. This man is so horny, he is ready to go 24/7. But simple things like the wind blowing through your hair, watching you walk barefoot through a field or the smell of you as you walk past, are often the ones that do it the most him. Oh and watching you perform, if you're some kind of artist. That really drives him wild.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don't thing he likes the thought of really degrading someone he's actually in love with much. Don't get me wrong, he can be a mean dom when he wants, but I don't think he would ever do something that would actually make you feel bad. His whole world revolves around his partner, they're his god in a weird, possessive way, and he wouldn't do something like brand you or insult your physical appearance. He would also never make you feel bad about your personality. While he might call you a slut or pathetic, things like insulting you for being needy he just wouldn't do. I think he also would be interested in others degrading you. So while he enjoys bringing others into your sex life, it's purely for them to service you. He'll never tolerate someone insulting you in anyway.

He also won't let any of the fresh vampires near you because he doesn't think it's a good idea. Even if you're also a vampire, they can be too rowdy and he doesn't like it so yeah there's a waiting time for anyone freshly turned.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

HES A MUNCH.

Cmon we all know that. This man loves eating pussy, day and night. If it was possible he would never stop. He loves the taste, the smell, the feeling of your legs squeezing his head. He just can't get enough. He eats like man starving, and he laps that shit up like a dog. He also moans so loud while eating you out. He honestly doesn't like 69 very much because he wants to focus on the task at hand lmao.

I also have to say, he loves sucking dick. He find it so relaxing, he could honestly fall asleep with a dick in his mouth. He loves to struggle on a big cock and he loves to take a small one fully into his mouth. The one thing I'm sad about is that I don't have a dick for this man to suck because it really is one of his favourite things.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Ah it really depends. His mood changes quite quickly and that influences how he fucks. A session can start out one way and change up half way through. There's not much consistency with Remmick.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Remmick loves a quickie. He'll ask for them all the time, at every opportunity. God forbid you have to be somewhere on time because he will stop you at some point to ask for a quick fuck. Most of the time he asks for a quickie though, it isn't so he can fuck you, it's so he can get a taste of your pussy.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes yes yes. He will give almost anything a try atleast once, although most things he's already done. He's also a massive voyeur as I said before so he doesn't care about getting caught. I mean he shares a hive mind so it doesn't really matter to him anyway.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's a vampire so his Stamina is very good but not impossibly so. He can if he wants to last a long time each round but remmick is not a patient man so he usually doesn't. You can tell him to hold out though and then he's happy to. But to him it doesn't matter because whether he's cum or not, your fussy is getting eaten. He can go for quite a lot of rounds honestly, probably 4 or 5 most days but stretching up to 7 if he pushes it. But he still needs time between and he doesn't like to over do things so most days it's gonna be more like 2 to 3.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

What toys did they have in the 1930s? I'm not sure i need to do some reading on that. But I think remmick quite likes involving toys both on himself and you, whatever they are. He especially likes bondage on you both although he keeps breaking all the pretty rope you get.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

This man is the king of teasing. Good luck if he gets in one of these moods because there is no escape. It will start at dusk as soon you're up, with light touches and coy looks and continue right up until dawn when he finally let's you cum after hours of fucking you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Remmick is so loud jesus. If you have neighbours, they hate you. And if you're trying to stray hidden you'll have to gag him. Even then you can still hear his panting and muffled moans. He also talks none stop during sex, I mean really runs him mouth. The man does not know how to shut up.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Big gore warning here, i personally feel a bit sick reading stuff like this even though I wrote it so just warning you guys first.

He wants you to bite him. Ok yeah that's obvious. But not just a few times, he wants you to cover him all over in deep, bloody bites. He wants it to hurt. He wants people to look at him and think he's been attacked by some wild animal. Honestly he wants you to eat him. To tear chunks off and swallow them. To crack his bones and tear parts off him. Break open his ribs and pull out his heart and rip pieces out with your teeth. He finds the idea of being consumed deeply erotic and also very intimate. It makes him feel very safe, knowing pieces of him are inside of you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Nice and thick. Probably a solid 6 to 6.5 inches with a good girth. He stretches you out just right. Uncut and a red tip. Heavy balls that hang low.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

All day everyday, ask and you shall receive. He really is hungry as a dog lol.

You know he's ready for it when he starts drooling. The drool really isn't something he can control, it just happens when his body decides its time to eat which often gets mixed up with being horny. So yeah, it's pretty common for you to look over and see him covered in drool, mouth open and shameless.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall  asleep)

Depends. Some days he's straight to sleep while others he gets kinda sad and wistful after sex and stays awake watching you. He also gets kinda stressed you're gonna disappear or leave if he closes his eyes sometimes so you might occasionally find him staring at you for a long time. But your presence is very comforting for him and he always sleeps better with you.

[mattsstarlet]

𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜— 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

matt enjoys watching you on your knees acting so needy and whiny.

contains: smut (no p in v), oral (male receiving), praise kink, slight dumbification kink, softdom!matt.

“please matt… wanna suck you off so bad.” you whisper, your hands running up and down his legs as your wide eyes plead into his with desperation. he looked so good tonight, a black t-shirt paired with black jeans and a backwards cap on as an accessory, your pussy ached with need from how bad you want him in your mouth, it was almost pathetic.

matt sheepishly grins down at you, you always did look so pretty on your knees between his legs for him, so eager and happy to please him for your own pleasure. he reaches out, petting your soft hair before he runs his finger through your locks, cooing at you in a mocking manner.

"what a whiny girl you are, sweetheart." he chuckles, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing over your bottom lip, watching the muscle glisten with your shiny lip gloss. "so needy f'my cock, huh?"

you nod eagerly, pressing your face against his thigh and fluttering your wispy lashes, gaining another laugh from him at your desperate attempts to have his cock shoved down your throat. you couldn't help it, you needed him.

"gonna make it messy? just how i like it?" he cocks his head, wanting to get a rise out of you for the fun of it. the sight of you yearning for him made his dick twitch, you were so willing, such a good girl.

"i promise."

he grins once more, showing off his pearly white teeth this time. his palm leaves your pouty face and makes a beeline towards his zipper, taunting you by pulling it down slowly, lifting his hips to pool his jeans and briefs around his knees.

matt grips himself tightly, using his free hand to tug you closer by your hair, gently slapping his cock against your pink toned cheek, humming softly at the sight of you closing your pretty eyes.

"you look so pretty like this." he whispers, brushing his mushroom tip over your lips, watching your lashes flutter open, looking up at him so wide and hungry. "such a pretty girl with my cock against her face."

you whine softly, parting your lips only to fed his cockhead, though you take it like a good girl and wrap them around him, swirling your tongue before letting go with a 'pop', gently kissing his slit.

he curses under his breath, letting his hands drop besides him on each side as you took him in once again, this time swallowing him deeper.

a tiny tear drop rolled down your puffy cheek once you felt him hit the back of your throat, he gently wipes it away, purposefully bucking his hips upwards. "cryin' already? is it too much f'you, baby? hm?" he teases, letting out a chuckle that quickly gets replaced by a groan.

you pick up your pace, bobbing your head as spit drools down his balls, your hand reaching upwards to cup them and smear your saliva over his sensitive skin. you were a mess, making slurping noises and moaning around his thick shaft to send him vibrations, just the way he likes it.

"good fuckin' girl, all drooly and dumb over my cock." he remarks, pushing your head down, your nose touching his pelvis for a few seconds before he lets you come up for air, gasping and inhaling sharply while you pumped him with your hands.

"cum... please cum for me." you softly rasp out, your vison blurred out as you flicked your gaze up at him, craning your neck to kiss his loaded balls, eventually sucking them as you continued to stroke his glistening cock.

a tiny bead of precum forms at the tip solely based off your request, as much as he wanted the feeling to last longer, he couldn’t hold back anymore, he wanted to add to your teary face by making a mess of himself.

“yeah?” his rhetoric ask comes out shaky and breathless, losing his cocky persona as he throws his head back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows down his moans. in a matter of seconds he pulls your mouth off him, taking his dick in one hand and the other keeping your head still. “c’mere then.”

you watch with a blur as he milks himself with a firm grip, twisting and squeezing his wrist ever so slightly, tapping his messy cockhead against your lips, letting out a soft ‘mhm’ as you opened wide.

“shit, baby, m’cummin all over you.” he warns before a loud groan rips through his throat, coating your pink muscle with spurts of his warm load, a few ropes of cum landing on your cheek, igniting a few moans from you. “shit, shit, shit.”

pumping every little drop out, his chest heaves with exhaustion, lazily sweeping his cum off your cheek to your mouth, smirking tiredly as you licked it off.

“you look so sexy with my cum on your face, sweetheart.” he mutters as he leans forward towards you, brushing away your sweaty strands. “such a pretty girl.”

© 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍

note ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ heavily inspired by this post !! he’s sooo sexy i need him. i hope u guys like this >_<

[ghelullu]

Prague 2025 skeletour recap!!

Tl;dr I love ghost they're all amazing and I'm happy

Long version under the cut

Probably the tallest crowd I've seen at a recent ghost concert

The way the light shines through the tears in the black curtain during peacefield is amazing no matter how many times you see it and of course peacefield is amazing too 10/10

Already multiple skin flashes during peacefield, thank you for the Fanservice

Dew is very mobile now! And someone painted bones imitating his skeleton on his boot, very cute. He's already a sassy diva again

Papa looked very pleased with himself during spirit again

Was overall VERY very smiley today! Many smiles and grins. At one time he saw someone on dews side of the stage hold up some sign and cracked up (sadly I couldn't see the sign)

Rain keeps headbanging so hard that his head peace flaps around and gets stuck sometimes

Papa had a weird lock of hair sticking out at the back of his head

We got the meliora special(tm) again tonight with pinnacle and majesty (would've loved to hear faith again tbh)

Phantom has the zoomies, this guy has so much energy, it's incredible. Sometimes he's just sprinting all over the stage and the person operating his spotlight STRUGGLES.

He and dew are absolute chaos twins, bless them. They had tons of moments together. But also phantom and the ghoulettes!! During one song he was with them, after cirrus keytar solo they chased each other over the stage and during the slightly awkward break after majesty he was at cirrus Plattform and they chatted or something

Papa in the silk shirt kills me everytime, I'm too weak for this. This shirt was an evil choice.

He did the times are shitty talk but somehow some people seemed to not to thing that times are shitty lmao and he was like, very sassy, it's okay to think that the world isn't shit right now before leading into tfiafl

Made multiple unnecessarily horny noises (moan, ah's) in this song and others help

I love seeing the variations of papas crisis during the Latin bit(ft. Priestbias on the screen) and the guitar solo (cowering on the stairs dramatically) in satanized

At the end he lifted his arms and we saw the hair again, without the Berlin incident I wouldn't have looked closely enough but.... Hmhmmhmm yes.

Satanized is a total audience fave

I can't wait to see when he decides to add the wings for cirice because he keeps doing the vampire arms bit when coming on stage, but still no wings

Fingered the mic stand again, though. And dew.

When he ciriced the person he got so close to the mounted camera that we got like a SUPER closeup shot until the point where you basically only saw the white eye before the video crew cut away to another camera angle of it haha

Generally some really cool new camera angles for example from unterneath the drums when papa faces the drums and such!!! Really big props to the video screen crew they're doing an AMAZING job

Papa slapped, I think it was rain, butt when leaving the stage

Rain was super done with dew and turned his guitar off for their ritual bit while phantom was being phantom on the other side

Umbra had ALL the smoke cannon action, very cool with the purple light and all, and the song SLAPS so hard. I love how papa loses his brain function while coming up from below the stage with the cowbell raised above his head and just... Wakes up, staring at it confusedly before quickly dropping it into the new ghoulettes (who has the collective braincell in that moment) waiting hands

I need to say how great the ghoulettes are with their little wings, I love them. And I like how they have some more bits, moving in the stage etc

I love year zero so much!!!

Dew stood so close to one of the pyro thingies that I thought he'd headbang right into the flame at some point. little fire gremlin

Papa was kinda defeated in the year zero bit with the disobedient ghouls, didn't even fight their standoffish ways, just walked around rain and dew but the got extra diva with phantom. In general he's either just accepting them being uncooperative OR goes full sassy diva and there's nothing inbetween

Papas mic was very silent for a lot of the show but ON during he is (and then rather silent again???) also the jesus rocket at the end of he is always ends me

Was the church backdrop always broken on dews side? Like the bow of the first smaller window bit on that side is broken (interrupted at the top) and they also turned the screen off at that part to simulate a missing window. Very cool detail!

Taint tickling for mummy dust!!

Some very nice mummy thrusting thank you very much

Rolled a mummy dust bill up like a cigarette or joint and then slowly with A LOT OF tongue licked the whole thing and threw it (very badly, it barely reached barrier) into the crowd. I died a little bit. Slut.

His monstrance clock speech was super funny, first of all he was like "don't fucking whimper now" (can't remember the exact words, but whimpering was in there), then said something in Swedish (i didn't understand obviously but swedes kn twitter said it was: "i'm the one to be the one") "as they say in Swedish....... WHICH I DONT.", he said he was just told to say that 😂😂 (and asked if someone's from sweden here, some people at the front cheered) bless him. Then people screamed so long thst they couldn't start monstrance clock and he said we are wasting time now before shushing us

I love monstrance clock part 38844. Also at the end of it the person responsible for the video screen forgot to shut it off, so the porn font lyrics kept rolling and rolling despite the song having ended

His little encore speech about being predictable and all was very cute and fun again, he smiled a lot and spoke I a horrible English accent that they're having one last good song up their sleeve. Also called it his daddy's song

Something was different about the keyboard sound for moac I think? Doesn't matter, it was amazing as always

No wobble for Dance Macabre and also no confetti - not sure it the cannons malfunctioned or if it was intentional

This is the time I'm addressing the boner allegations, bc twitter keeps talking about how he's "constantly bricked up" and idk. I'm not a boner expert, but as someone who knows clothes from experience and drawing and also the fact that the ridiculous cardinal pants existed for 2 years without a single incident... My scientific guess is that due to the, already very tailored to the crotch, pants slipping down, esp at the front due to the heavy belt buckle, it creates a sort of pouch and the ghunk just collects in there, yk. During dance macabre he jumped up and down a few times and it sorted the whole situation, which wouldn't have happened with a ghoner. Not that it matters but twitter talks about it so much lol

Phantom got Ryan's attention who was standing underneath him and handed him a pick to deliver it to someone in the crowd which I thought was very cute of them

Papa told dew to "get his ass over here" for squammer and at the end didn't do the high note again but the "right here right.... Now we're done"

Ghoulettes made paper planes out of setlist again, we are so close to the return of origami ghoulettes of the prequelle era.

Dew has a cane for the bows!! Very distinguished fire gremlin!

Despite standing 8 rows from the barrier I had a very sweet moment with Papa thst will keep me alive for the rest of the year thanks

Dew yeeted picks at 984848kmh all the way over to the seats

Lots of kisses from papa for the crowd but also his ghouls

I love them all so much and I'm very sad that this was my last ritual for the year but I'm also super happy and grateful thst I could see them 4 times, I don't take this for granted at all.

Thank you for reading ❤️

My Other ritual recaps

[bearyfast]

The Envelope - LN4

Partnering: Lando Norris x impliedfem!reader

(There is no reader in this story but he talks about reader, no name is stated and reader never actually appears)

Type: Angst

Summary: Lando finally opens up at a therapy appointment and then goes home to deal with his grief- over whose death? The love of his life's, who happened to leave him a mysterious envelope.

Warnings: mentions of drugs, death, grieving, overdose, pregnancy, therapy, and suicide. (Let me know if I've missed any and I'll add them!)

F1 Masterlist

“It's been two months since our last appointment. How do you feel after the break?” The voice broke through Lando’s thoughts, making him realise that he hadn’t been paying attention since he sat down on the stiff couch.

“Fine,” Lando spoke as he looked up to the woman’s eyes slowly, seeing the look in her eyes that let him know that she didn’t believe him. “I’m fine.”

“Lando, this is a very difficult process to go through and understand, someone who was a constant in your life for years, someone who you loved-”

“I know what I lost, thanks. No need to remind me” Lando’s cold voice interrupted her as he looked to the ground again.

Dr. Maryes looked at him with sympathy- something he was sick and tired of seeing in people’s eyes when they looked at him recently. The woman, Dr. Maryes, was a therapist that his team had gotten for him; something about “needing to handle his grief better” or some stupid spiel like that.

He understood why he was there, he just didn’t want to be there. Lando didn’t need some therapist who understood nothing about you and his deep love surrounding everything to do with you to tell him how to deal with his feelings.

“I’ll never know what that felt like Lando, to lose what mattered most to you in the blink of an eye, while you couldn’t do anything; all the way across the globe.” Dr. Maryes told him softly.

Over the last few sessions with her, it had been a constant battle with Lando. He didn’t want to accept her help, feeling as though he was betraying your memory by moving on- like he was forgetting you by allowing himself to live.

“But you have to remember that she would want you to live. Isn’t that what you said in our last session? That she always wanted you to put yourself first, putting her own career on hold to follow you around the world for Formula One. She would want you to be happy instead of wasting away” Dr. Maryes always avoided using your name, knowing that it would just set Lando back even further than he already was.

As he just stared at the carpeted floor of the therapist’s office, Lando gave a small nod. That was you, always the one to sacrifice your own happiness so that you could see Lando flourish and thrive. 

You cared so much about him that even if you were sure when you were younger that you would never get married, Lando now constantly fiddled with your engagement ring that was on a necklace around his neck after the police gave it back to him. It was only a gold band with a few small but nice diamonds, just the way you wanted it, so he could wear it while racing.

“She was always the best part of me” Lando mumbled, reaching up with one hand to hold your ring in his fingers tightly.

“Sometimes closure can come from having something from the person to remember them by,” Dr. Maryes spoke after a moment of silence. “That ring on your necklace, can you tell me about it?”

Lando swallowed as a single tear was in his eyes, quickly wiping it away before speaking again.

“When we were kids, she used to say that she would never get married. So when we started dating I remembered that, but after three years she just started… hinting at engagement rings-” Lando’s voice cracked slightly as he talked about you more and more.

“It’s okay, talking about it is good. Is there anything else you have of hers?” She asked.

“Yeah. She had a locket that I got her on our first anniversary, it has a little- a little- a picture inside,” Lando stumbled over his words as he thought about you more. “With… us. Together. On our first date, when we had our first kiss.”

“Why don’t you wear that as well? Along with the engagement ring” Dr. Maryes asked as she leaned forward slightly; this was the most she had gotten out of Lando the entire time he had been talking with her.

“I just- everytime I look at the picture, her smiling face, her innocent features-” A sob broke out but he continued speaking. “I don’t know, it gets me thinking about things I know I shouldn’t.”

“What things, Lando?”

“Maybe if I forced her to come with me, if I had noticed earlier, if- if I would have been better then maybe she wouldn’t have done what she did. I mean- I spent the most time with her, I should have noticed the behaviours-”

“Lando, it’s not your fault-”

“But it is. There were signs. I ignored them because I thought she was getting better, I thought she was getting over it, over the addiction. But I was wrong, and she died because of it”

That was the first time that Lando had actually opened up about his feelings towards what happened to you. Yes, his friends had speculated amongst themselves that he felt guilt about your death since he knew about the addiction but he thought that you were getting better.

You had been seeing your own therapist about your own… issues. Lando himself had seen an improvement in your behaviour- hell, you had even brought up having children without any hinting from Lando.

It brought  him to tears even thinking about the fact that you were so far gone when you said that to the point of definitely having no idea what you were saying. Maybe it was all the drugs, making you happier, making you want children after years of not thinking about it, and that’s what hurt Lando the most in the days after he found out how you died. 

How the Coroner's Office said that the orderdose had been building up for weeks, months even, in small doses.

How he will never know how much of the last few months you spent together making Lando think you were getting better, making Lando think that you wanted children, making Lando think that everything would be okay. He’ll never know how much of that time you knew you would be overdosing on purpose a few months later, leaving him alone.

Clearly you had known, that much was clear not even just from what the Coroner’s Office said; a note had been left on the kitchen counter addressed to him, though Lando hadn’t brought himself to read it yet. He knew that it would just bring him right back to the start of his grieving.

Dr. Maryes must have kept talking since the end of the session came quickly, but Lando didn’t pay attention at all, too much into his thoughts to even think about listening to others.

“That’s all the time we have today, Lando. What I want you to take away from this session is that grief morphs the feelings of love and pain into one, you might spend the rest of your life trying to make sense of a decision she made in silence, but she wouldn’t want that” Dr. Maryes finished, getting up and leaving the room- knowing Lando might take a moment to leave on his own.

After an hour, Lando finally made it through his own front door.

It didn’t take an hour to get to his home- no, not a home, it was now just a house. Just an empty shell of a house without your blooming presence. Without the smell of your constant baking in the kitchen, the flowers that used to be everywhere in the apartment- which were now all dying due to Lando not taking care of them. You lingered but you weren’t there.

Instead of coming straight home, he took the long way that had barely any people on the street- the paparazzi and people in general were looking at him like they were waiting for him to fall apart on the sidewalk every since the news of your death spread (which they somehow found before Lando even told his team).

As he walked through the empty apartment, Lando kept his eyes on the ground. All around the apartment were photos of you two together, photos of you with your nieces and nephews, and just little touches that reminded him of you everywhere he looked that he couldn’t bring himself to put in a box but couldn’t bear to look at either.

“Goddamn it, Max” Lando groaned once he saw containers of food on his kitchen counter which was now clean instead of being filled with old plates and probably moldy food that he hadn't been bothered to clean up. 

Giving Max the spare key to the apartment was obviously a mistake, seeing as Lando hadn’t left in weeks he had the ability to turn Max’s food away at the door, but since he was out at the therapy appointment Max must’ve come in by himself.

Max also left the letter from you on the table, leading to Lando frantically checking the seal to make sure it hadn’t been opened. Obviously he knew that Max would never open it without his permission but he couldn’t help but check, seeing as the aging, months-old seal had become a comfort for Lando.

Though when he picked it up to turn it over, for the first time he touched the centre of the envelope instead of just the edges.

One would think this wouldn’t make a difference but Lando realised that what laid inside the envelope was in fact not a letter, or not just a letter. Instead inside the envelope was something like a… stick. He always assumed the reason the envelope was thick was because she wrote a thick letter, maybe a lot of pages, not this.

“No, don’t do this to me, love” Lando whispered like a broken man at a sudden thought about what could be in the envelope, choking out another sob as his heart somehow shattered for what felt like the thousandth time since your death.

As curiosity got the better of him, he slowly opened that seal with precision not even seen on the race track, his shaky hands looking away before he could even see what was inside.

Lando moved to grab his phone out of his back pocket- as much as he wanted to seal the envelope up again and cry whenever he saw it, he knew that he needed support from the one person who knew him best, but who he kept pushing away.

“Lando?” Max’s voice came through the speaker as Lando’s hands gripped the edge of the counter-top to the point of his knuckles turning white.

“I just- fuck, I don’t know what to do, Max” Lando’s voice got shakier as he spoke more, his eyes burning down at the opened envelope without looking at its contents.

“Talk to me, Lando. Tell me what’s wrong, let me help you” Max frantically said in a calm way, not knowing if Lando would just hang up on him if he took too long to answer.

“You know how before everything happened I told you that she brought up children?” Lando asked rhetorically before gulping and speaking again. “I- I touched the envelope today, and- I think there’s a- a- a you know… inside”

He couldn’t bring himself to speak the words, afraid of making it come true.

“Oh. Well, she clearly wanted you to know, and I think you should open it. I’ll stay on here the entire time, you can hang up if it gets too much, but we both know not knowing will kill you inside”

Max is right. It would kill him inside. Maybe not just inside but all together.

Why would she leave it for him if she didn’t want him to know?

But what if it’s positive? What if she killed herself knowing that she was pregnant with his child? Would that make him see her differently?

But what if it was negative? Would it make every little worry go away? Or would he be even further broken knowing that he never had a chance of having children with her? Giving him the negative test just to rub it in?

“Okay.” Lando spoke after minutes of silence and just thinking. “I’m going to open it, please just- I can’t do this alone.”

“You’re not doing this alone, I’m with you the whole way, Lando. I’m here” Max reassured him, bringing a comforting presence to Lando’s cold apartment.

Slowly reaching for the envelope, memories flash past his eyes; your first kiss, when you first started hinting at engagement rings, him proposing, you being there at his first Formula One Grand Prix win, your first time at a race, him at your university graduation- you bringing up children.

“What do you think about children?” She asked Lando, leaning over the barrier at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix.

“Children? What- you want them?” Lando asked her, leaning closer to her as well with a smile once she nodded slightly. “Really? With me?”

“Of course with you, Lan. Who else?” She teased, kissing him softly with a giggle.

“God, you make me so happy, love. If anything happened to you I don’t know what I’d do” Lando grinned before kissing her cheek and rushing away to his team.

Lando should have noticed the happy glint in your eyes fading at the mention of him losing you, he should have told your therapist about what he was seeing at home, but he wanted to believe that you were getting better.

The stick dropped from the envelope and landed upside down, the side that Lando actually wanted to see facing the counter.

With the drop and then silence, Max spoke again. “Everything alright? What does it say?”

“It’s fucking upside down mate.” Lando whispered. Any other person would just flip it around, maybe ask ‘why can’t you just flip it over, answer all your questions?’. “I can’t do it.”

“What? Do you need me to come over?”

“No, I- I just- I can’t do it. What if the results ruin the image that I have of her forever? She’s- she’s fucking perfect and if this is a result that I don’t like I don’t want to know, Max”

Even if he doesn’t know which result he would prefer, Lando knows that whatever the outcome is- it will change his view on your memory forever, and that’s something that he can’t just ignore to look past it onto all the good ones. Lando can look past the drugs and the overdose and the lying- he’d seen what it did to you, how it changed you and how you genuinely were trying to get better at some point; that it had just gotten to be too much.

But either you knew you were pregnant when you overdosed or you were almost taunting him with the fact that you weren’t pregnant and you had brought up children? That was something Lando could not bear to think about, let alone look past.

“Shit- I’m coming over, Lando. Don’t move and don’t leave the apartment, okay? I’ll be there in a minute, it will be alright” Max’s panicked voice came through the speaker as Lando could hear him walking, almost running, to his car.

Even with Max coming to help him through it, Lando still couldn’t do it. Maybe it was for the best, it might make it easier to move on.

With one final breath, shaky hands, and more tears running down his face than ever but somehow time moved slower than ever. Picking up the pregnancy test, he placed it back into the envelope and sealed it again, leaving it back in the place where he found it.

A mystery envelope for another day, maybe when he was on his deathbed,  maybe next week, maybe in ten years- who knows. But for when he was better and it wouldn’t change how he saw the beautiful, kind, amazing woman he used to know and now only see’s in his dreams and in his mind.

It might kill him to not open the envelope, but it would kill him even more to know.

[youthereader]

Echoes in the Dark part 3.

PAIRING: joel miller (the last of us) x fem!reader

SUMMARY: 2.4k words. Every morning you wake up and remember two things. Firstly, that your son is dead, and secondly, that Joel Miller is your patient. || A fix-it fic. Reader is Joel’s carer as he recovers from Abby’s attempt on his life.

RATING: E. hand job, praise kink if you squint. age gap (reader is in their 30s, Joel is in his 60s). heavy angst, grief and loss of a child, graphic violence.

A/N: bon appétit, babes. I wrote this like a thirsty lady possessed.

PART 2.

From then on, you catch yourself hoping to be closer to Joel. You become more eager to see him, take pride in looking after him, and oftentimes you imagine him being restored of strength, throwing you down on his bed. In these fantasies, his huge hands are rough and demanding, and the fucking is downright filthy.

You bring yourself back to reality, usually watching him hold a book with his brows furrowed over the words, his grey curls inviting you to run your fingers through them. He doesn’t notice you zone out, you don’t think, he’s usually busy trying to get something done at his new desk he has installed over his bed like you suggested. 

He’s gaining some of his strength back and his ribs are mostly healed. His leg is still the biggest issue, as well as his reluctance to nap. You can see him fighting his exhaustion so by the afternoon he has to rest whether he likes it or not, and you never say it out loud, but you know your face says ‘I told you so’. He narrows his heavy eyes even more at you and you crack a smile. If he were younger, maybe you’d consider it almost flirting, but you don’t know if he’s attracted to you. He mostly tip-toes around anything to do with your personal life, having understood you’re not opening up to him anytime soon. 

One afternoon a couple weeks after you saw his naked chest for the first time, he asks you to take him to see Gail, a lady you don’t know very well. You only spoke to her a handful of times, giving your usual superficial routine. You know exactly who she is, but you didn’t realize Joel saw her until he handed you a plastic bag of weed. You open it and take a deep breath.

“Holy shit, this is a lot,” you murmur. 

“It’s not, actually.”

You love the scent, remembering it from some distant piece of your past. You never smoked it much as an adult. It was hard to come by for years. 

“It’s what I pay her,” he adds, wheeling himself out of his room. 

You follow, pocketing the bag in your jacket. You offer you hand more often now, secretly hoping he takes it, and he’s never disappointed you. It’s like you reached a place where he doesn’t need to give you an arm to help him. Since no-one ever really touches you otherwise, the intimacy of this is staggering, further egging you on. Sometimes, you want to risk it all, say what you’ve been picturing over and over. You want to share the details of what he could do to you if he asked - and honestly, he could do anything.

You never get brave enough to follow through, though, always ending up feeling a little pathetic, because your crush is the best thing going on right now, and it’s not even that serious. Some days, he barely talks to you because he’s too fucking tired to move. His recovery has been brutal.

You wheel him to Gail’s house and knock on her front door. 

“You can leave me to it,” he says, when you hand him back the weed.

You turn your heel, doing as your told, but Gail is faster than you expect and opens the door, greeting Joel. She calls out:

“So you’re his-?”

Joel interrupts. “Yeah, she’s my…”

“Oh,” she says, looking at you fully. She smiles. 

She seems off, possibly stoned already. You don’t blame her. Finishing her silent assessment, she gives Joel a look. 

“I’ll be back in an hour,” you say, before anyone else can talk. You look at Joel. “Do you need anything?”

He shakes his head, scratching the back of it. You almost run away, hands shoved into your pockets as you watch your feet the entire way, super aware of how awkward you were. 

-

You return to Joel’s place and strip his bed, swapping the sheets for clean ones. You focus on your tasks, and try not to study his home, and learn more about him as you make your way through it, cleaning what you can as fast as possible. 

You’re washing his dishes when there’s a knock and then a key in the front door. Tommy appears behind you, eyes falling to your arms deep in the sink, the suds up to your elbows.

“Hey, he’s not here?” 

“No,” you say, not sure if Gail’s someone Joel talks to Tommy about. “But he’ll be back soon.”

“I can’t come by tonight, the foal’s coming now,” he says, thumb jutting behind him. “They need me down there-”

“Oh, for sure,” you say. “Is the mom okay?”

The whole town was voting on what to call the foal when it’s born. Your pick was ‘Maple’. Joel never told you his. 

“It just means he’ll stink a little longer.”

Oh. Tommy bathes him, you forgot. It wasn’t something you ever did, you never thought about it much since Joel never smells bad to you, not that Tommy needs to know that.

“He won’t mind.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” Tommy mutters. He hurries off. “See ya…”

He disappears and you stop scrubbing, moving on to rinsing the final dishes. Your movements are slower. 

-

You keep quiet when you retrieve Joel from Gail’s, warmth in your guts as your mind keeps turning, turning, turning…

“What?” you blurt, missing something he says. 

“I said, ‘The snow’s finally melting.’”

He’s right. The trees drip occasionally. You see patches of green, you can smell the earth again. You take a deep breath now, nodding.

“Yeah.”

He takes your hand when you’re inside, his callouses scraping across your palm. He has a strong grip, made gentler. Your stomach flips - it fucking flips. You swallow, putting him back in his wheelchair in the hallway. 

“Uh, Tommy came by,” you begin, and Joel’s briefly alarmed, you see it plain as day. “Everything’s fine, except he can’t shower you tonight, he’s gotta help out in the stables…”

You trail off, and feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You want him to ask. It would be so much easier if he just…

“Oh, okay,” he says, hands going to his wheels. He doesn’t roll away. “Um. I could really use it, though. I’ve been sweatin’ a bit…”

“I can’t tell,” you blurt, and he smirks. 

“Thanks. But you don’t know the half of it.”

“You really don’t stink, Joel,” you insist. 

You know where this conversation is heading and you don’t know how to handle it, your heartbeat picking up. Your eagerness threatens to burst out of you.

His voice lowers and you think you can die:

“It’s not in your job description, but…”

“I can help you,” you say, your face on fire. 

“I know it’s making you uncomfortable-”

“It’s not,” you go on. “It totally does not. Seriously.”

Why do you have to sound like a teenager, even younger than you already are? Shut up. Oh, my God. Shut the fuck up!

“Just keep your underwear on,” you babble. 

“Sure,” Joel says. 

There’s a brief silence you wish to fill, but you know you’ll only say something batshit and embarrassing, so you press your lips together. 

“Let’s go, then,” Joel mutters, and he rolls off. 

You press a hand to your face, wanting to hit yourself a few times behind his back. 

“Uh-huh,” you reply. 

You tell yourself to grow up. If you want to be a nurse, you’re going to deal with a lot of nudity. It’s really immature of you to think this is any different. And unprofessional. And weird. You berate yourself internally as you make your way into the bathroom, slipping past his wheelchair to open the shower door. 

There’s a white plastic garden chair and a detachable shower head resting on it. You take a deep breath and turn back to Joel, who is already taking off his thick jacket. You hover, then finally help him when his chest is fully exposed. He has less issues with his upper body movements now. He gingerly stands up and you move forward for his hand to grab the space between your shoulder and neck like a vice. 

Your stomach flips, warmth collecting in your belly. 

“Wait,” you whisper, and move back, Joel going still. You flip on the water and quickly move back, his hand back on you. “Don’t want you shivering too much.”

“Thanks,” he mutters. “Dunno how long the hot water will last…”

He looks uncomfortable, and it’s like a reality check. He’s not enjoying this, so it’s best to be out of your own head right now. He’s the guy you’re helping, not a piece of meat. He uses his free hand to awkwardly pull down his sweatpants, shuffling toward the shower door. 

He grabs it, and you crouch to tug his pants off the rest of the way. You can’t help staring at him, at the broad expanse of him, aware of how he towers over you. You lick your lips and grab the shower head, gesturing to the seat. You test the water against your palm.

“Damn, your shower pressure is way better than mine,” you mutter, and he clears his throat.

“I’ll, uh, look at that for you sometime,” he says. 

You glance at him, letting him see you smile a little more, but he doesn’t return it. 

“Thanks. Appreciate it.”

He says nothing, seeming tense. He sits down with your assistance, frowning. You hand him the showerhead and grab the bodywash on the floor. The label is faded and barely legible, something from decades ago that you can’t make out, but it smells sharp. 

“‘Aquatic Splash’ or somethin’,” Joel mutters, taking it from you to squeeze in his hand. “I dunno.”

He’s grumpy. Embarrassed, you realize. He washes his upper half with his eyes elsewhere, brows knitted together. You wait, until he clears his throat again.

“I’m gonna need you to… uh,” he says, and you spring forward, probably too eager. 

He doesn’t seem to notice. He hands you the showerhead, refusing to look your way as you lather his leg away from the bandage. You watch as he grits his teeth. He doesn’t take pain meds anymore, though he definitely should. His stitches won’t be out for a while, and rehab will still go on for months. You wash away the suds and stare at his face until he acknowledges you on the tiled floor. 

“It’s okay, I’m supposed to be helping you,” you say. “And it’ll help you relax.”

“Help me relax,” he parrots, and then smirks, shaking his head.

“Why?”

“You’re…”

He trails off, sighing. You do your best to ignore his grumbling as you lean up, closer to him. 

“Lemme do your back.” 

He gives in, bending forward a bit. You move around to kneel behind his back, then reach up to lather soap on his shoulder blades. He grunts.

“Am I hurting you?”

“Nah,” he whispers. “Feels good.”

You know you’re wet when he says that, licking your lips again, staring at the back of his head. You take a deep breath, composing yourself. 

“What if I…?”

Your hand follows the lather, thumb digging into his muscle. He gives a little groan. You do it again, his head falling forward. He lets out a huff. 

“My back is killin’ me,” he admits.

“You should’ve said something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he says, with a weak chuckle. “If it meant you doing this.”

You can’t see his face so you don’t know what he means, if he likes you in particular doing this. You do it harder and he groans, and you move onto his other shoulder blade. He makes a pained sort of sound and you smirk, digging into the muscle. It’s a little awkward with you left hand only and your right still holding the showerhead, but it’s working. 

He lets out a low breath, and then you go completely still, his hand coming up to grip your wrist - and the showerhead falls to the tiles with an echoing clatter. You can’t form the words to apologize, when he turns back and locks eyes with you. 

You think you’ve overstepped, your heart racing, until he places your right hand on his heaving chest. His gaze pulls you in, your chest meeting his back, your faces so close together now that you can feel his breath on your parted lips. 

He watches you, waiting, eyes dipping to your mouth, and then he pulls your hand lower, lower down to his stomach. He is a little soft, like you predicted. He has a middle-aged belly but hidden beneath is a rock hard core. Your clit pulses, and you move the last couple inches down, slipping under the waistband of his soaked briefs to wrap your hand around his thick cock. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, and you press your forehead to his wet shoulder, groaning. “F-fuck…”

You slide up and down, so slowly, and he falls forward again, like he means to bend himself in half. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispers, and you smile against his skin, lips brushing him. “I knew you’d be good at this…Goddamn, sweetheart…”

Warmth blooms in your chest and your cunt gives a little squeeze. Joel’s hips fail to lift but he tries anyway, to fuck into your tight fist. He groans again and you nip at his flesh. 

“Fuck, you're so fuckin’... soft,” he mumbles. He breathes your name and you sigh, giving him the briefest lick.

You jerk him nice and slow and he groans like a dream, your thumb dragging over his sensitive tip of him, your left hand sliding down to join your right. You take him out of his drenched underwear and cup his balls. He jumps in your hand, cursing your name. The action caught him off-guard and he gives a shaky laugh, moaning. 

You pepper his skin with kisses, up to the back of his head. He turns, hand coming up to grab you by the jaw, his brute strength back tenfold. His thumb brushes your mouth, and you nip at him again, wrapping your lips around him. Knuckle deep, you give him a few sucks, and he's mesmerized. His eyes are nearly black, and he grunts, fingers scraping your scalp. 

“Fuck–”

He gasps, balls drawing up. He comes hard. It's slow, long spurts over your knuckles, dripping onto the floor. His eyes squeeze shut and your foreheads press together, his thumb still in your mouth, your incisor piercing its pad.

The water still runs from the forgotten shower head, his come following it down the drain. You let go of his spent cock, lifting your hand to your mouth to suck and lap up the mess, eyes locked with his. Your face burns and you savor his taste. You swallow it all, sighing contentedly. 

😈❤️

Oh, man. This was seriously fun to write. Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist.

[nataliaphantomhivesblog]

BLACK BUTLER ENDING

Okay so honestly, since we are reaching the climax of the manga, i can't help but realize how after the climax, there's the falling action...and then finally, the ending. We are getting so close to it and honestly I still can't even begin to elaborate how anxious I am about how it will all wrap up.

There is still many characters and plotlines that are yet needed to wrap up, so I do think building to the climax AND falling action will take a few years (give or take...5-10 years? maybe more if the chapters continues on being cut down and overall slow).

But no matter, I will put my trust in Miss Yana (as i have for years), and she's rarely let me down, so I can only count on her and believe that she will continue to raise the stakes and expectations for Kuroshitsuji.

Now, as for the ending, there's many theories out there, and i'm not in the mood to fully fledge out my theories at the moment, but I do want to talk about what I would wish for the ending of Black Butler as someone who has stuck by this story for years.

For starters, i think the majority of the fandom can agree that the most predictable and plausible ending is o!Ciel fullfilling his revenge, and Sebastian to be able to consume his soul at last.

Honestly, I think if that’s how it ends, it might feel a bit disappointing to some readers—especially since it’s what everyone expects. But there’s also an inevitable tragedy in knowing from the beginning that o!Ciel was always doomed to face a bitter end.

If Yana goes to the safe route of Sebastian eating o!Ciel's soul, here's some elements that I think could add so much nuance to the narrative:

The revenge while being climatic for the readers, being unsatisfying for our earl.

A recurring theme in Black Butler is the inescapable downfall that comes from sacrificing others for your own ambitions.

The BOC arc completely solidifies this ongoing narrative and message:

Ciel isn't laughing mockingly, if anything, he's spiraling.

The circus trope was kidnapping children in order to protect their own, in the end however, it is revealed that Baron Kelvin had already killed these children.

The futility of all their efforts stands out, and you can see a clear parallel between them and their goal, as well as o!Ciel and his pursuit of revenge.

Each of them strayed down a dark path, driven by desperation to achieve something they once believed in—resorting to actions they likely never imagined themselves capable of. Just for it to all be for nothing.

o!Ciel must sense that this might be his own fate too—that when his revenge is fulfilled, it may leave him with nothing but emptiness.

And I don't even need to spell out how deeply the boc arc haunts our earl and the overall narrative: Snake becoming a Phantomhive servant, Joker and Doll resurfacing in The Green Witch arc to taunt o!Ciel’s psyche, Doll’s tragic return as a Bizarre Doll… the echoes are constant.

It's clear that the themes and consequences of BoC don't just linger—they bleed into nearly every arc that follows, casting long shadows over the entire story.

And i dare say that the message boc conveys was slightly shown even before said arc: (i.e: in the red butler arc, madam red killing prostitutes driven by grief and anger, forcing her to confront her own nephew and getting killed in the process by the one reaper who was fueling Red's blood lust.) So Yana has had this theme loom over the story for years, but in my pov it became fully prominent in the boc arc as stated before.

So i can only hope, that while the revenge that o!Ciel is able to obtain is satisfying for the narrative, I hope it leaves our earl the same way it left the circus trope and many others he has trampled: empty and with a desire to continue living.

It's lowkey crazy how much I want this to be portrayed for this particular ending considering o!ciel is lit my favorite character and I want him to be happy, but at the same time, I am a sucker for tragedy, and if this story will end with o!ciel's demise, I can only hope it follows one of my favorite theme's of the story.

2. Sebastian regretting taking o!Ciel's soul to parallel our earls lack of satisfaction with revenge.

Guys I swear I don't mean this in a uwu s*baciel way or in a "awe bassy is so soft !! I want him to cry after eating his soul in regret!!"

What I DO mean however, is Sebastian to be hit with the realization that his whole motivation of wanting to acquire and eat the most delicious soul meant nothing in comparison to the life he led as the butler, as Sebastian.

We know that this demon actually enjoys his life as a butler, i mean in the GWA he literally states how he prefers it over unleashing the beast:

He also takes into consideration advice from human!butler's and even goes an extra mile and compliment a human butler if they do their job in an admirable manner (albiet, he only does this with human butlers whom he deems respectable, like Agni and Tanaka):

Sebastian takes his role as a butler very seriously, sometimes im convinced he gets lost in it:

Sebastian in this pannel teases o!ciel about how he needs to eat well in order to grow up, the irony is that our little lord will never get the chance to, considering the butler himself will cut his time short.

That's why he stares at Sebastian like this, and what I find intresting is that the demon butler genuienly didn't catch or understand why o!ciel is looking at him this way. If he was really taunting him about never growing up, there would've clearly been a smirk on his face, but he looks actually confused.

(I got this interpretation and example from another post, i can't recall if it was twitter or tumblr, I really wish I could give credits to OP. If you find the original post, please link it down in the coments)

So i think it's safe to say that overtime, Sebastian really started to enjoy and have fun with his butler life, and he will loose that the moment he gains o!Ciel's soul.

I don't want him to miss o!Ciel persay, I want him to miss the life he led as the butler Sebastian Michaelis.

If Sebastian has shaped the boy into what he is now, then maybe the boy can, in some small way, reshape the demon too.

And not just the young master—I want the entirety of Sebastian’s butler life to leave its mark. The loyalty of the Phantomhive servants, Agni’s unwavering warmth, the chaos and quiet of every mission, every case, every twisted corner of human nature he’s come to know.

I want all of it to shape him. I want the accumulation of these experiences to shape Sebastian, not just as a flawless servant, but as a demon who cannot come out of this unchanged.

all in all, I want sebastian to feel miserable and bored as karma for eating my childs soul/hj

3. For the story to not just end the moment Sebastian consumes o!Ciel's soul.

I mean, yana herself has told us how Sebastian is the true protagonist of this story. So for it all to end with o!Ciel’s death and nothing more would feel incomplete.

If they do end up showcasing signs of regret from Sebastian after eating our earls soul (fingers crossed), I want the weight of his actions to loom over the Phantomhive manor, over the servants, Elizabeth, Prince Soma, and everyone who’s been touched by Ciel’s life. The loss is universal, not just limited to Sebastian, and I hope they do showcase that tragedy.

But more than that, I want Sebastian's longing to be palpable. After devouring Ciel’s soul, I want the demon to be trapped in a kind of haunting limbo, unable to shake the life he once had as a butler. It should feel like he's yearning for what he lost—his purpose, his role, that delicate balance between master and servant. His regret would not be just a burden, but a twisted kind of desire for what came before.

To wrap all this ranting up:

If we’re not getting a fluff ending for this manga, then the tragedy better hit so deeply, so irreparably, that it even shakes the protagonist demon we first met as cold, calculated, and entirely unfeeling.

I want the grief to linger in the silence of the manor halls, in the absence of a young master’s voice, in the routines that no longer have purpose.

Because if Ciel’s story ends in devastation, then Sebastian’s should end in the quiet, unbearable echo of everything he can’t unsee, unfeel, or undo. I want the tragedy to crack through that perfect façade—and leave something raw beneath it.

[ririright]

“Sole Mate: Hayden & His Unstoppable Yeezys”

Husband! Hayden x Wife Reader (Headcannons)

❤︎ The “I Love Them” Defense

Hayden first sees the Yeezys online and is immediately captivated by the bold, mismatched colors.

“They’ve got character!” he insists, excitedly clicking “Add to Cart.”

When they arrive, he’s genuinely thrilled, trying them on and admiring them in the mirror.

You walk in, take one look, and burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, Hayden, what are those?”

“They’re iconic,” he defends with a playful pout, striking a dramatic pose.

“You just don’t get high fashion.”

❤︎ Fan Reactions

He makes the mistake of wearing them in a candid paparazzi photo, and the internet immediately has a field day.

Fans on Twitter flood his mentions with memes, comparing the shoes to traffic cones, hot Cheetos, and an exploded art palette.

His Instagram comment section is a mix of love and lighthearted teasing:

“Hayden, blink twice if they forced you to wear those.”

“Bestie… the shoes…”

“Respectfully, sir, those look like they’re made of melted crayons.”

❤︎ Your Relentless Teasing

You’re merciless. Every time he puts them on, you squint dramatically.

“Babe, are you sure you don’t need sunglasses to look at those?”

You threaten to hide them, but Hayden just laughs, pulling you into a hug. “You wouldn’t dare.”

When you’re both going out, you’ll jokingly say, “Should I grab my shades? The shoes are coming with us, right?”

❤︎ His Adorable Pride

Despite the teasing, he proudly wears them everywhere—walking the farm, taking Barron to the park, even on a casual date with you.

Somehow, with his easy confidence and that handsome grin, he actually makes them look… good.

In photos, he pairs them with his simple jeans and a plain shirt, letting the shoes be the star of the show. And fans hate to admit it, but he really does pull them off.

❤︎ Barron’s Honest Opinion

Your son is brutally honest. When Hayden first wears the Yeezys, Barron wrinkles his nose. “Daddy, they’re so bright!”

“That’s called style, buddy.”

A week later, Barron asks for his own colorful shoes “just like Daddy’s.” Hayden beams with pride.

❤︎ He Finds His People

At a fan event, someone shows up wearing the exact same Yeezys, and Hayden’s face lights up.

They take a picture together, Hayden pointing to their shoes with the biggest grin.

“See?” he tells you later. “I’m not alone.”

“You’re a trendsetter, babe.”

❤︎ “Yeezy, Not Easy” Argument

Once, while going out for a family dinner, you begged him to wear a nicer pair of shoes

“Sweetheart, please, I promise you can wear them tomorrow.”

“But they go with everything!” he insists, stubbornly slipping them on anyway.

You sigh dramatically, but he grins, walking up and kissing you until you’re laughing.

❤︎ The Signature Walk

Hayden’s walk is already confident, but when he’s wearing the Yeezys, there’s a little extra swagger.

He claims it’s just the perfect cushioning, but you know it’s because he feels like a rockstar.

❤︎ Secret Compliments

Despite the teasing, you once caught one of his friends quietly complimenting the shoes

“Dude, those are actually kinda cool.”

Hayden played it cool, but the second he got home, he told you all about it with the giddiness of a kid.

❤︎ Yeezy-Related Complaints

Sometimes, you’ll find him muttering in the closet because he can’t decide which outfit matches the shoes best.

“Too much pattern… not enough color… No, I’m overthinking this.”

Once, he asked if you thought the Yeezys were “too much” for a casual dinner. You just stared at him, and he burst out laughing. “Okay, fair point.”

❤︎ Special Cleaning Ritual

He has a dedicated shoe cleaning kit just for the Yeezys. Brushes, wipes, even a special cleaner for the vibrant colors.

You once joked that he spends more time pampering those shoes than his hair.

“Well, the shoes don’t have a natural, effortlessly messy look. They need help.”

❤︎ The Battle of the Closet Space

His Yeezys have a designated spot on the shoe rack—front and center.

Once, you tried moving them to the back, but Hayden noticed immediately.

“Who moved the masterpieces?” he gasped, dramatically rearranging them to their place of honor.

❤︎ Sneaky Customization

You once secretly swap out the laces for some ridiculous neon rainbow laces as a prank.

He’s stunned when he sees them but decides he loves the look and keeps them.

“Wow… you’ve just made them better.”

❤︎ A Quiet, Sweet Confession

One night, when it’s just you two cuddled up on the couch, he admits why he loves the shoes so much.

“I know they’re silly… but they make me feel like… me. You know? Like I don’t have to try to be cool.”

You kiss his cheek, your heart melting.

“You don’t. You’re always cool to me.”

[thirteenheavens]

What about threesome with Dom Seungcheol and Dom Mingyu? ⭐️

He’ll be mad|| KMG x Y/N x CSC

Word count: 1.6k

Notes: gawd damnnnn writing this was fun hehe

As you lay in bed with Mingyu, you feel his large hands tracing patterns on your skin. He nuzzles into your neck, his breath hot against your ear.

"Cheol's not home yet," he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. "We have time..." His fingers trail down your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You shiver under his touch, feeling yourself growing wet at his suggestive words.

"He'll be mad," you whisper, though the thought only seems to excite you more. Mingyu grins against your skin.

"Let him be mad," he says confidently. "We both know he can't resist you when he's angry." His hand moves lower, sliding between your thighs.

"He won't let me cum then," you whimper softly, knowing Seungcheol's possessive side all too well. Mingyu chuckles darkly, his fingers continuing their teasing exploration. "Let him try to stop us," he whispers, nipping at your earlobe.

"Besides, you're already so wet for me," he purrs, sliding a finger into your dripping entrance. "I can feel how badly you want this." Mingyu adds another finger, slowly pumping them in and out while his thumb circles your clit. "You're so beautiful like this," he growls. Your back arches off the bed as he increases his pace, pleasure building within you. "Please... more," you beg breathlessly, completely surrendering to his touch.

"That's it," he encourages, his free hand roaming your body possessively. "Let go for me. Let me hear you."

"Fuck, Mingyu..." you moan, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the pleasure mounts. "I'm close..." He groans in response, pressing his hard length against your thigh. "I know baby," he whispers huskily. "Cum for me. Show me how good I make you feel."

His thumb presses harder on your clit while his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot. The orgasm crashes over you, making you cry out his name as you tremble beneath him. Mingyu pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, revealing his toned chest and abs. His lips find yours in a heated kiss as he presses his body against yours.

"You taste so sweet when you cum," he murmurs against your lips, his hands roaming your curves possessively. "I need to taste more of you." His mouth trails down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses as he moves lower. He reaches your sensitive breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth while teasing the other with his fingers. The sound of the front door opening can be heard. You try to warn Mingyu but he shows no sign of stopping.

As Seungcheol's footsteps approach the bedroom, Mingyu continues his exploration of your body. His lips move to your other breast, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive flesh. The door creaks open and Seungcheol freezes in the doorway, his eyes darkening with a mixture of desire and anger. Mingyu finally lifts his head, a cocky grin on his face.

"Welcome home, Cheol," he says nonchalantly, still keeping his hands on you. "We were just having some fun." Seungcheol's jaw clenches as he takes in the scene - you naked and marked up by Mingyu, with Mingyu's hands still possessively on your body.

"Get your hands off her," Seungcheol growls, his voice low and dangerous. Mingyu simply smirks and squeezes your hip tighter.

"Why should I? She's enjoying it," he challenges, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "And we both know how much you like seeing her all marked up." Mingyu slowly removes his pants, revealing his hard length. Seungcheol's eyes darken further with a mix of anger and desire as he watches.

"You're going to regret this," Seungcheol warns, but his feet remain planted where he stands, unable to look away from the scene. Mingyu ignores the threat, positioning himself between your legs. "I don't think I will," he says confidently, his cock twitching against your entrance. "Y-N wants this just as much as I do."

As Mingyu starts to push inside you, Seungcheol's breath hitches audibly. He watches intently, his fists clenched at his sides. Despite his obvious desire, Seungcheol forces himself to speak. "You're both mine," he growls possessively. "And I'll show you exactly who's in charge."

Mingyu looks over at Seungcheol with a challenging glint in his eye. "Try it then," he taunts, thrusting deeper into you. "But we both know who she really wants right now." Seungcheol's hands move to his tie, slowly pulling it off as he watches Mingyu fuck you. The fabric slips from his fingers and lands on the floor with a soft thud.

"You're both going to regret disobeying me," he says darkly, his voice thick with lust. "But first, I'll show you what happens when you disrespect me." Mingyu continues his rough pace, your moans filling the room. Seungcheol moves closer, his eyes fixed on the way your body responds to Mingyu's thrusts. Seungcheol's hands move to his belt, undoing it with deliberate slowness. The leather hisses as it slides through the loops.

"Such a greedy little thing," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. "Taking both of us like this. But you'll learn who really owns you." He pulls his belt free and steps closer to the bed, his eyes flickering between your writhing body and Mingyu's smug expression. "Hold her hands," he commands Mingyu. Mingyu grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head as Seungcheol approaches with his belt in hand. The leather makes a soft thud as it hits the bed beside you.

"You're going to be tied up while we both take you," Seungcheol growls, his eyes dark with possessive desire. "And you're going to beg for more." Mingyu chuckles at your gasp, his grip on your wrists tightening as Seungcheol loops the belt around them. "Sounds like a perfect punishment to me," he says, his thrusts becoming deeper and more forceful.

"Please..." you whimper, your eyes fixed on Seungcheol's throbbing length. "I need both of you." Seungcheol grins at your desperate plea, pressing the tip of his cock against your lips. "Open up," he commands, watching as you eagerly part your lips to take him in.

Mingyu groans at the sight, his hips snapping against yours with increased intensity. "That's it," he encourages, his free hand coming up to squeeze your breasts. "Take us both like a good girl." Mingyu bites his lip hard as he watches you take Seungcheol's cock deeper into your mouth. His thrusts become more erratic, his breathing heavy.

"Fuck, that's hot," he moans, his eyes flicking between your mouth and the way Seungcheol's face twists in pleasure. "I'm so close..." Seungcheol threads his fingers through your hair, holding your head steady as he starts to fuck your mouth. "Cum with me," he growls, his voice strained with impending release. Mingyu's hips stutter as he reaches his climax, filling you with his hot release. He collapses onto the bed beside you, panting heavily as he watches Seungcheol continue to dominate your mouth.

"God, that was amazing," Mingyu says breathlessly, his hand stroking your sweat-slicked skin. "But Cheol's not done yet." Seungcheol pulls his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, his eyes dark and hungry. "Roll her over," he commands Mingyu, his voice rough with need. "I want to finish in her properly." Mingyu helps roll you onto your stomach, keeping your wrists restrained by the belt. Your face is pressed into the mattress as Seungcheol positions himself behind you.

"Look at how swollen your pussy is," he groans, sliding his fingers through the mix of cum and arousal. "All because of us." He lines himself up with your entrance, his hands gripping your hips firmly. "Ready to take my cock like a good girl?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes, Cheol," you moan into the sheets, arching your back to present yourself to him. "Please fill me up." Seungcheol thrusts into you in one smooth motion, his grip on your hips bruisingly tight. "So tight," he growls, setting a brutal pace that has you gasping for air.

Mingyu moves to kneel in front of you, his cock still half-hard as he watches Seungcheol fuck you. "Clean me up," he demands, pressing the tip against your lips again. You eagerly take Mingyu's cock back into your mouth, tasting your combined fluids as Seungcheol pounds into you from behind. The overstimulation makes you whimper around the shaft in your mouth.

"That's it, suck him clean," Seungcheol orders, his hips snapping against your ass with each thrust. "You're going to swallow every drop." Mingyu tangles his fingers in your hair, holding your head steady as he pushes deeper. "Such a good little cumdump," he groans, his cock twitching in your mouth. Seungcheol's pace becomes erratic as he nears his climax, his fingers digging into your flesh. "I'm going to fill you up," he growls, his thrusts becoming harder and deeper.

"Take our cum," Mingyu adds, his voice thick with desire. "Take all of it inside you." Seungcheol lets out a deep groan as he finally reaches his peak, spilling his hot seed deep inside you. Mingyu follows suit, releasing down your throat with a satisfied moan.

As Seungcheol pulls out of you, his cum dripping down your thighs, he gently releases the belt from your wrists. The leather falls to the bed with a soft thud. Mingyu pulls out of your mouth, helping you turn onto your back as you catch your breath. Your body is covered in sweat and various fluids, marked up by both of their claiming touches.

"You were amazing," Seungcheol murmurs, running his fingers through your hair. "Both of you." He kisses you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue.

[hermajestyimher]

I don’t entertain nonchalant men. I don’t care how much stoicism or “alpha male” manosphere content this new batch of men has consumed. The only reason they think it’s cool to act detached with women is because their egos are hurt and they’re deeply insecure. And unfortunately for them, many of us aren’t playing that game anymore.

If you show little to no interest in me, guess what I’m going to do? I’m moving on to the next man who does—someone who shows he cares through his actions and the way he pursues me. There’s already a massive shortage of men with genuine manners and chivalry, so when someone shows up with that and adds qualities like empathy and emotional intelligence, he becomes infinitely more attractive than the superficial, “trying-to-act-cool” gym bro who wants to get rich doing drop shipping. That’s exactly why so many of us fantasize about the hot, empathetic nerd.

There’s a male loneliness epidemic not because women have impossible standards, but because too many men are taking advice from the worst kinds of online personalities instead of listening to what women actually want.

[mandukkul]

#48 with Ni-ki for your 1k celebration event. You can use whatever you’d like for the trope (maybe fake dating or childhood friends?)

7:55pm — nrk

tags: ni-ki x reader, fake dating, prompt #48, "okay, that's it. we're leaving. come on.." , fluff, crack

word count: 1.3k , not proofread, likes + comments + reblogs appreciated

°❀⋆manny's 1k celebration event .ೃ࿔*:･

After 4 months of faking your relationship with, equally as infamous, famous Ni-ki, people are starting to suspect something. Because, Ni-ki being Ni-ki, was known for his physical touch and his closeness to people. He drapes a lazy arm around his friends, leans on them, punches them, literally anything as long as he glues himself to their side.

But after getting together with you, people startb to notice how you and Ni-ki barely interact. Sure they see you two always together in the hallways, lunch, sometimes even catch you togetehr after school. But there's always been a distance between you two, a barrier that was unspoken. For all the time theyve seen you and Ni-ki together, theyve only seen you hug once, hold hands twice, and possibly a finger graze one other time.

Outsiders assumed that you– in particular– were not much for PDA, with your quiet disposition, standoffish personality, but with how his friends ended up befriending you too, they come to think otherwise.

Ever the observant. Sunghoon was the first to notice, to see how you and Ni-ki bickered with eachother— like a married couple— but still standing within arms length of eachother. How you’d walk side by side, but never bump into eachother. not even once.

Then it was Sunoo, who was quick to take in how you never shied away from Jake’s constant high fives and aggressive back pats, but never seem to even come close to the minimal effort you and Ni-ki put into the relationship.

and later, each member had their encounter with you’re down to earth ness, and attraction to physical touch despite what you lead others to believe.

Now you’ve started to pick up more eyes on you than normal. you’ve gotten used to the lingering gaze of others, becuase Ni-ki being Ni-ki, you were bound to be the talk of some conversations. How you’d here some defend you and your shy (not really) demeanour, but not Ni-ki’s (now yours too) friends.

You’re all out at the theme park, after begging from Jake and Ni-ki saying it’d be good for your relationship’s reputation.

After the obligatory rides forced by Ni-ki, and a queasy amount of overpriced carnival food and a blurry hour of god knows what, you’ve all settled down together, on one of the picnic tables.

you sit across from ni-ki, who’s finishing off what’s left of your red bean bun. Despite how tired you are, you’re still inclined to tune into the conversation.

“We just had our first kiss last week!” Sunoo recounts, just getting into a relationship of his own barely a month ago.

Absent-mindedly, you reach over to Ni-ki, silently asking for the bubble tea you guys decided to share.

“That’s crazy! The honeymoon phase is so strong with you too!” Jake exclaims as he stuffs his face with various fried foods. “i think it’s normal” Jungwon adds as he reaches a hand over to jake to stop the inhalation of food.

“yeah you’re right” Jake nods, though he doesn’t relent in the food in his hold. Then his eyes flick towards you and ni-ki.

He observes you both silently, how you’re chewing on your straw, completely zoned out while Ni-ki stuffs his mouth with more taiyaki.

“hey, did you guys have your first kiss already?” Jake blurts out, which instantly snap both you and Ni-ki’s attention.

you share a brief gaze to each other, silent panic in your bones.

“why?” you retort back, short and curt.

Jake simply shrugs, “you’re nearly at your 5 month anniversary, and i barely see you too even bump shoulders” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“it’s because his shoulders are at the ceilings” you’re quick to reply, but you know it’s true.

you got into a fake relationship for your family to get off your back about setting you up with a family friend and his to stop the rapid flow of confessions heading his way.

you were merely strangers at first, in two completely opposite ends in the social circles. barely even knowing each other's names before you decided to strike up a deal with each other.

and despite how annoying he is, you’ve become unlikely friends— maybe likely with how often you spend around others. Nonetheless, you guys are close.

But you hope that it isn’t just you who notices the lingering gazes you give each other, the smallest presence of electricity when your knees knock into each other, the way your pinkies graze; the way you seek for him when you walk into a room.

You hope.

“don’t be weird, we like how lowkey our relationship is” Ni-ki quips, punching Jake's shoulder for good measure.

until Heeseung decides to add his 2 cents.

“Jake’s right, for all the time we see you two together, you seem to not be close”

For obvious reasons, you can't reveal your relationship, and you can’t reiterate enough about how the mere actions Ni-ki does makes your heart skip.

“it’s like you guys aren’t even togeth-“

“Okay, that's it. we're leaving. come on.” Ni-ki suddenly declares as your eyes instinctively follow his standing figure. you’re mid sip when Ni-ki pulls you along by the wrist hearing cheers coming from your friends as you leave.

Ni-ki drags you all the way to the ferris wheel. his fingers around your wrist leaves a burning sensation. Your cheap soda was discarded at some point, leaving you undeniably parched as your eyes follow the leading figure in front of you.

You don't even know when he bought tickets for the ferris wheel, only that you're suddenly in a carriage, sitting awkwardly across from your pretend boyfriend.

Ni-ki is slumped over, in a sulky position, as you stare out the window to watch people turn into ants.

“You know” you start, as your eyes flick to glance at Ni-ki. “I wouldn't mind kissing you, you know, to shut them up” you choose to leave out the part where your heart is patter so irrecoverably hard against your chest that you're sure would rattle against the cart’s walls.

Ni-ki all but stares at you, eyes of bewilderment finding your figure. Your own staring out the window, the sunset shining into the carriage, the slight wobble of the cart– doing everything but look at him.

Suddenly, the space inside the carriage seems too tight, too small, as your feet somehow knock into Ni-ki’s.

And then there's a hakting pause that swings your cart, shaking it hard enough to lose your seating.

When you find yourself on top of Ni-ki, hand securely around your waist as the other one braces himself.

You try your best to not make eye contact as your hand finds home tucked into his chest.

“Im gonna kill myself” you mutter to no one in particular, though he doesn’t miss the reddening of your ears as you look down, and you sure don’t miss the creeping blush on his cheeks.

A deep, reverbated chuckle erupts in his chest, and suddenly you're pulled deeper into his chest and feel his chin settle on top yours.

“Not here” he laughs, and your eyebrows knit.

“Huh?”

“Killing yourself i mean” he jokes, stroking your hair softly.

“But a kiss, i'm totally up for”

So you lean up without hesitation, lips on his like it's the simplest thing in the world.

And time stops.

Until you hear Ni-ki’s phone vibrate once. And then twice, and then it's a cacophony of buzzing that unfortunately pulls you both away with a frustrated sigh.

“These idiots” he sighs, pulling out his phone and being welcomed with an array of sneaky videos recorded from the bottom of the ferris wheel.

You laugh heartily as you settle yourself back on your seat, much to Ni-ki’s dismay, peering over to look down to your group of friends, camera pointed up like paparazzi.

At least now, faking it will be a little easier.

[starlighthosh]

Hii~ i’ve read most of ur writings and this is my first time sending a request. Can you write something similar like Vernon one but instead with Woozi cuz i just know behind that shy image, he just a hunk that loves the thrill to get his fat c-ck blown

Totally agreeing with anon🙌🏻 he might look cute, but that man is a freak in the sheets (I’m ready to blow him off anytime he wants). Enjoy! MDNI

Right here? - l.jh

The concert started in approximately 25 minutes. Everyone seemed to go through their usual pre-concert routine. Everyone, but Woozi.

He quietly sat in a corner, shaking his leg up and down. Obviously, something bothered him, but you couldn’t figure out what.

You tapped his shaking leg. “Stop, that’s a bad habit” you gently scolded, not wanting to add more pressure onto him. His eyes fixed on you, starring with a dark lust.

His hips slightly bucked up, as the things he wanted to do with you took over his mind. “Y/n” he whispered, his voice thick with arousal “I need your help”. You looked at him with concern. His eyes wandered over your body, imagining you naked beneath him.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Wordlessly, he took one of your hands and pulled you with him into the empty dressing room, locking the door behind you.

His lips collapsed with yours. “Suck me off, please baby. I really need to feel you right now” he whined. Something inside you shifted. Your eyes turned dark and a playful grin creeped up on your lips.

You pushed him onto the couch, straddling his lap. Woozi already panted with need. “If I blow you off right here, you have to be very quiet for me, okay?” you teased, palming his growing errection through the fabric. He squeezed his eyes, concentrating on not busting right this moment.

“Yes, yes. I will be very quiet” he gasped. You started to undo his belt, pulling his pants down just enough for him to be freed. A big hard cock catching your eyes, already covered with pre-cum.

You wrapped your hand around his length, giving him a few slow strokes. Woozi couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of your hands. You suddenly stopped. “What? No, don’t stop. Please” he pouted.

“I told you to be quiet. Or do you want everyone to know how needy you are right now?” you asked him with a warning look. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he quickly apologized.

You nodded as an acceptance and slowly made your way down to him. With one last lick over his tip, you took him in your mouth. Woozis eyes shut close, as the warmth of your mouth surrounded him. He tried to shut himself up with biting his arm, but you could still hear the muffled whispers from him.

It kinda made you smirk, knowing how much he’s struggling right now. “You feel so good baby, please go faster” he breathed hardly. You quickened your pace, sloppily sucking him off, while he became a trembling mess beneath you.

“Yes, just like that” he moaned quietly. But it wasn’t enough for him. His hips bucked up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with every bop. His dick already stretched your mouth out perfectly, now it got even harder to breathe.

You gulped and whimpered around him, getting him closer to the edge. His dick twitched in your mouth and his hips stuttered the more pleasure build up.

Woozi grabbed your head, pushing himself balls-deep in your mouth. Tears started to form at the corner of your eyes. “Fuuuckkk” he groaned, using your mouth as his own sex toy.

He thrusted into your mouth a few more times till he buried himself in your mouth again. His dick shooting cum down your throat, while it took everything inside of him to remain as silent as possible. But there’s no way no one heard his pathetic whimpers.

You pulled back from his dick, your saliva and his cum running down your chin. “Do you feel better now?” you teasingly asked. He nodded, his body still shaking from the pleasure.

Suddenly someone knocked at the door. “Concert begins in 10 minutes” staff called out. He quickly fixed his clothes, while you cleaned your faces, making sure everything looks like before.

He kissed you one last time for support. “Make sure you’re ready for me later” he winked at you, before leaving through the door and gathering up with the other members.

[sturniololuvz]

Okay helloo!! i was wondering if you could write a fic where like the triplets little sister around 13-15 has been like distancing herself and Matt notices in one of the photos that they posted with her on insta she has recent-ish looking scars on her thigh and she was looking A LOT thinner maybe he had known that she had struggled with sh in the past but he thought she was clean? (up to u but maybe add like she was like sorta an influencer with like 400k and had been getting a lot of comments on her weight?) sorry if that didnt make sense!! IF U DONT FEEL COMFORTABLE WRITING IT DONT WRITE IT!!

“Not Just a Picture”

At first, it was little things.

Y/N wasn’t around as much, even when she was home. Her door stayed closed more. Her laugh, usually loud and unfiltered, had gotten quieter. She skipped meals sometimes — said she already ate, or wasn’t hungry.

And Matt had noticed, in that instinctive big-brother way, but he told himself she was just going through a phase. She was fifteen. Growing up. Maybe pulling back a little was normal.

Then came the photo.

They had posted a casual Instagram pic a few days ago — one of those sunny, everyone’s-home-so-let’s-smile kind of shots. Y/N had agreed reluctantly, standing between Matt and Chris, one hand on Nick’s shoulder, giving a small smile.

She looked okay.

At first.

But then Matt started reading the comments under her repost of it. The ones from strangers.

“She’s definitely lost weight… hope she’s okay.”

“Is that a scar on her thigh??”

“Why does she look so sad?”

And then he zoomed in.

She was wearing shorts — not something she usually did anymore. There, half-covered by her palm, was a faint line of fresh-looking scars along her upper thigh. Faded but real.

His heart stopped.

He thought she was past this. He thought she’d been okay.

That night, while Chris and Nick were on Twitch, Matt knocked softly on her bedroom door.

No answer.

“Y/N,” he said gently, “Can I come in?”

A pause. Then a tired, quiet voice: “I guess.”

He opened the door slowly. She was curled up in bed, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, scrolling on her phone like she was trying to disappear into it.

“You busy?”

She shrugged. “Just looking at comments.”

Matt sat at the end of her bed. “Don’t.”

She blinked up at him.

He hesitated. “I saw your post. And the picture. And… your leg.”

Y/N froze.

Matt’s voice cracked. “I thought you were okay. I wanted you to be okay.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” she whispered, eyes brimming. “I didn’t want to ruin how proud you were of me.”

“You don’t ruin anything,” he said, voice soft but firm. “You’re not a disappointment. You’re just hurting.”

She finally let the tears fall.

“It’s the comments,” she admitted, voice shaking. “They keep saying I look better smaller. That I’m ‘glowing.’ So I just… I kept doing it. And I felt so guilty when I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to eat. And then I felt worse, and I—I didn’t know what else to do.”

Matt moved closer and pulled her into a hug, holding her like she was still the little girl who used to fall asleep on his chest watching cartoons.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner,” he murmured. “I should’ve asked. I should’ve checked in.”

She sobbed into his shoulder, all the pain she’d been holding in finally breaking loose.

“You don’t have to be perfect, Y/N. Not for your followers. Not for us. You’re allowed to not be okay.”

“But everyone expects me to be—”

“I don’t,” he cut in. “I just expect you to keep fighting. And when you can’t, we’ll carry it with you. Me, Chris, Nick… Nate. Whoever you need.”

—

That night, she didn’t sleep in her room. She fell asleep curled next to Matt on the couch, his hoodie wrapped around her, the weight of shame finally lighter.

And the next morning, the triplets posted a photo — not one of her made up or posed.

Just her, laughing — in sweats, no makeup — in the kitchen with Matt.

The caption read:

“No filter needed when you’ve got this much heart.”

Comments flooded in.

“She looks happy here.”

“Glad she’s okay.”

“This is the content we love to see.”

But Y/N didn’t read them this time.

Because she knew, finally, that love didn’t live in likes.

It lived in people who stayed.

—

[actuallybean]

Holy Virgin* | Part Two

You've shared everything with Sam but one thing—your faith. It’s never been a problem… until Heaven turns its gaze on you, and suddenly, devotion takes on a darker meaning. *Contains sexual material, pregnancy, thoughts of suicide/attempted suicide, virginity and has some religious themes: Minors DNI Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader (Platonic), Castiel x Reader (Platonic) Tag list: @mostlymarvelgirl @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing Part Three Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The Bunker felt warmer on Sundays.

Maybe it was the smell of eggs sizzling in Dean’s old cast-iron pan, the one he swore made them crispier, greasier, “more American.” Maybe it was the way Sam moved slower in the mornings, long limbs draped lazily over the arms of chairs, like his body finally trusted that—for one sacred morning—no one needed saving. Or maybe it was just the way sunlight slipped through the narrow slats of the kitchen window, catching on motes of dust like falling grace. Warm gold on steel and stone. A gentle defiance against how cold the world usually was.

You sat curled at the round table, barefoot, one of Sam’s flannels swallowing you whole, the hem brushing your thighs. You were flipping through a battered old cookbook you found wedged behind some takeout menus in the Bunker’s pantry. The pages smelled like bacon grease and faint mildew, with handwritten notes in the margins—“add more cayenne” or “Dean liked this one”—and cracked eggshells preserved in the spine from some long-ago spill.

“You know,” Dean said, cracking an egg with theatrical precision, “if you two are gonna keep playing house like this, we’re gonna have to get you matching aprons.”

You didn’t even glance up. “Yours would say ‘Kiss the Hunter.’ With a little heart stitched in blood.”

Sam snorted into his coffee.

Dean raised a brow. “Mine would say ‘World’s Greatest Brother,’ thank you very much.”

“You’re just mad she doesn’t cook for you,” Sam said without looking up, nursing his mug like it was the last good thing left in the world.

“She’s never offered,” Dean shot back.

“She’s not your girlfriend.”

Dean turned dramatically, wiping his hands on a dish towel and leaning his hip against the counter. “Not yet.”

You blinked. Sam’s brow twitched.

Dean smirked, eyes glinting. “I’m just saying, man—she already wears your clothes, hogs your coffee, steals your books. How far off are we, really, from a full-on Winchester wedding? You want me to start looking for rings? Or maybe I can officiate it myself—‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in this haunted-ass bunker—’”

“Dean,” Sam cut in, but there was no heat behind it.

Dean held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, hey, I’m just teasing. Mostly. But let’s not pretend this isn’t the closest thing to domestic bliss any of us are ever gonna get.”

You finally looked up, lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “You really know how to make a girl feel romantic.”

Dean grinned and pointed his spatula at you. “Don’t I?”

Then, more quietly, more honestly, he added, “I mean it, though. You’re family. You know that, right?”

The humor softened in the space between you, fading like steam off a skillet. The kind of quiet that holds weight.

Your gaze met his, gentler now. “I know.”

Dean’s eyes flicked to Sam and back. “It’s just… this feels good. Normal. And God knows we don’t get a lot of that. So, yeah. I wouldn’t mind a sister-in-law who prays before eating and makes Sam stop brooding.”

“I do not brood,” Sam muttered, deadpan.

Dean ignored him. “Plus, you’re like… the only one who can get him to watch something other than documentaries and sad indie dramas.”

“He cried during Little Women,” you said with a teasing glance toward Sam.

“I did not,” Sam protested, cheeks faintly flushed. “That scene with Beth was—objectively emotional.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, smiling into the fabric of his shirt. “Sure, baby. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Dean cackled from the stove.

You stayed like that for a beat longer, your hand sneaking across the table under the clutter of old napkins and Dean’s half-finished crossword puzzle. Sam’s fingers found yours easily, warm and callused, lacing with familiar confidence.

“You two make me sick,” Dean announced, scooping eggs onto plates. “If I’d known letting her live here would result in public displays of affection, I would’ve stuck to solo missions.”

“Yeah, but then who would’ve kept you from eating expired Hot Pockets and drinking gas station whiskey on an empty stomach?” you shot back.

Dean raised his hands. “Point taken. Now eat this before I decide to throw it at you out of sheer bitterness.”

He set down a plate in front of you with a flourish. Eggs, toast, bacon, and what looked like an attempt at hash browns—crispy on one side, still raw on the other.

You made sure the boys dug in first.

Dean was halfway through cutting his toast when you folded your hands in your lap, lowered your head, and closed your eyes.

“Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts which we are about to receive from Thy bounty…” you murmured, the prayer so familiar it came like breathing. You always prayed before eating—especially here. Especially with them.

Dean noticed this time. You could feel his eyes on you. Not mocking. Not confused. Just… quietly watching.

When you lifted your head again, Dean hadn’t touched his fork. He was still staring, brow furrowed like he was trying to figure out a puzzle he hadn’t realized he cared about until now.

“What do you feel when you pray?” he asked suddenly, cutting through the comfortable clatter of breakfast.

You blinked, surprised. “Peace,” you said softly, leaning back in your chair. “Mostly peace. Or hope. Sometimes fear. But never alone.”

Dean tilted his head, chewing on the edge of your words. “Fear?” he echoed, voice lower now.

You nodded. “Not of God. Of everything else. Of what’s out there. Of what we fight. There are days where it feels like the world is held together with duct tape and a wish. But when I pray… it feels like it doesn’t all fall on me. Like someone else is carrying it, too. Someone stronger. Someone good.”

Sam’s thumb moved against your hand again, slower this time.

Dean stared at you for a long moment. Then he looked down at his plate. Picked up his fork. “I get that,” he said quietly. “I really do.”

You watched him take a bite and chew slowly, eyes distant. For all his swagger and sarcasm, there were oceans under Dean Winchester’s surface. You’d known that for years. But moments like this? When he let the water show? They were rare. And precious.

Sam turned to you, his voice a whisper meant only for your ears. “He doesn’t say things like that to just anyone.”

You smiled, lifting his hand to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “Neither do I.”

The three of you ate in a peaceful silence after that. The kind that didn’t need filling. The kind that only came with real love.

✦

The day passed slow. Lazy. Beautiful in the way only rare peace can be.

The Bunker held warmth in its bones that Sunday, humming softly beneath your bare feet as you padded down the hall, drawn by the scent of coffee and the quiet rustle of pages turning. Hours slipped by like melted honey, and none of you rushed them. Sam had pulled you into the couch sometime after breakfast, and neither of you had moved much since. One of his thick theology books lay open across his lap while you leaned against him, your legs tangled lazily with his, your head resting comfortably against the curve of his shoulder. He smelled faintly of cedarwood and paper, and every so often, he’d reach over to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

Dean sat at the war room table, field-stripping one of his favorite guns, the parts arranged in perfect little rows like silver bones. He had a Western playing on low volume, something dusty and dramatic from the seventies that featured more scowls than dialogue. Every time a horse neighed or a revolver clicked, Dean mimicked the sound under his breath, even as his hands moved with methodical grace over oiled metal. You caught him glancing over a few times—at you, at Sam—and though he said nothing, the softness in his expression was louder than words.

Eventually, when the book had grown heavy in Sam’s lap and the Western ended with a poorly executed duel, the three of you agreed on a better option.

“The Princess Bride,” Dean suggested, casual.

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

He shrugged. “What? It’s got fencing. Fighting. Revenge. True love. All the essentials.”

Sam grinned. “He’s not wrong.”

And so it played.

You curled tighter against Sam, nestled beneath one of the patchwork quilts Dean had claimed from an old case in Wyoming. Your cheek pressed to Sam’s chest, and you could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his henley, feel the way it slowed in rhythm with his breath as the familiar scenes unfolded. The glow of the television bathed the room in flickering light—Inigo Montoya’s blade flashing silver, Westley’s voice thick with devotion.

“As you wish…”

You smiled into Sam’s shirt, lips barely moving.

Safe. Whole. Loved.

The moment felt suspended in amber—timeless, untouchable.

Until the flicker.

It was small, at first. A brief hiccup in the screen, like the film strip had caught. Then another. Then the lights.

They didn’t go out. Not completely. But they dimmed all at once, shadows lengthening in the corners of the room, the overheads lowering to a deep gold like candlelight. You sat up slowly, eyes scanning the space. Sam’s arm came instinctively around your waist. Dean rose before the sound even finished.

The wings.

That unmistakable rush of air that was neither wind nor sound—but both. Felt more than heard. A hush fell so suddenly over the Bunker that even the old pipes seemed to still.

And then—he was there.

Castiel.

He stood near the archway of the room, his coat rumpled as always, blue tie slightly askew. But his expression was different. Tight. Troubled. His eyes, usually the color of stormy sky, were darker now—clouded with something deeper than worry.

Flanking him were two angels you had never seen before.

They were... beautiful. But not in any way you could call comforting. Their presence carried a weight that made your bones ache, as though gravity itself bowed around them. The one to Castiel’s left had silver hair that shone like polished steel, his face angular, sharp, ageless. The other was bald, his skin smooth and pale as moonlight, but his eyes—his eyes were suns. Too bright. Too much. You looked away instinctively, heart kicking up in your chest.

You tried to stand. Sam rose beside you, his hand lingering on your back.

Castiel’s gaze found you immediately. “We need to speak with you.”

His voice was calm. Low. But there was no mistaking the urgency.

Dean narrowed his eyes, stepping forward. “Cas, what the hell’s going on?”

The silver-haired angel took a single step into the room, and though he moved with grace, the air around him seemed to chill. “We have a message.”

Dean’s hand drifted toward his waistband.

“It’s not a threat,” Castiel said quickly, holding up a hand. “But it is… from God.”

Your breath hitched so hard it felt like something fractured inside your lungs.

You stared at him, then at the others. “Me?”

The bald one nodded once. “You have been chosen.”

The words were like cold water dumped over your spine.

“I—I don’t understand.”

“We don’t either,” Castiel admitted. “The message was delivered by the new Scribe of Heaven. It bore the highest seal. And it spoke your name.”

You shook your head. “There’s a mistake. I’m no one.”

“You are known,” said the silver-haired angel. “You are named. You are prepared.”

Sam stepped in front of you without hesitation, towering between you and them. “What does that mean?”

The silver-haired angel extended a hand, palm upward. “If she allows, we will show her.”

Dean moved now, standing to Sam’s right, voice cold. “She’s not doing anything unless she agrees. And if this is some kind of possession—”

“It isn’t,” Castiel said firmly, cutting across the tension. “No control. No invasion. It’s… more like revelation. A divine vision.”

You stared at Castiel. “Will it hurt?”

“No,” he said. Then softer, “But it will change everything.”

Your pulse thudded in your ears.

You turned to Sam.

He looked at you like you were a world he didn’t want to lose. His eyes locked on yours, hands gently finding your arms. He didn’t say no. He wouldn’t hold you back. But his jaw was tight, and he looked like he was already grieving.

Then, finally, he nodded.

You turned back to the angels. Your voice was barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

The bald angel moved forward. Slowly. Carefully. He lifted his hand and pressed two fingers to your forehead.

And the world disappeared.

No sound. No breath. No body.

Only white.

Endless, echoing white—so bright it was neither color nor light, just... presence. A silence that pulsed. A stillness so pure it hurt.

And then—

A voice.

Not in your ears. In you. Through you.

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t boom. But it was. Vast. Timeless. Made of wind and thunder and lullabies and galaxies folding in on themselves.

My daughter. You have been chosen. You will carry My son. As Mary once did, so shall you. This is My will.

Your soul quaked.

You wanted to scream. Wanted to cry out that you were not worthy, not ready, not enough.

But there was no mouth. No voice. No flesh. Only your essence—and it bent beneath the weight of His decree.

You didn’t understand.

You didn’t want this.

You hadn’t chosen this.

And then—

The Bunker.

The world rushed back all at once, color and sound crashing into your senses.

You were falling.

Arms caught you. Strong. Familiar. Sam.

Your body trembled violently, your knees unable to bear your weight. Dean grabbed your legs, lowering you gently to the floor, while Castiel caught the back of your head with both hands, keeping you steady.

You were shaking so hard you could barely breathe.

Sam’s voice was frantic. Desperate.

“Hey—hey, look at me. It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Talk to me.”

You clung to him like a lifeline, fists curled in the fabric of his shirt, nails digging into his chest.

When your voice finally came, it cracked in half.

“Sam…” Your lip trembled. Your eyes burned. “I didn’t choose this…”

He pulled you closer, cradling you against his chest like something fragile. Like something sacred.

And in the silence that followed, no one spoke.

Because what could they say?

God had spoken.

And everything was about to change.

[venusfe-art]

Okay so I have a THEORY, I have already talked a bit about it in the discord but Tumblr needs to know too.

Silverborn spoilers ahead!!

At the end of Hollowpox we find out there’s someone, or something, more dangerous than Squall. I feel it’s very hinted at/obvious this thing is either President Maud Wintersea or just the Wintersea Party and Republic in general. I’m leaning more towards the party BECAUSE what if the other Wundersmiths aren’t dead, but kept captive?

There has been multiple fake deaths in the entire series to this point, from Jupiter faking Morrigan’s death with Mesmerism dust or whatever he calls it, to Bertram Crow basically doing the exact same thing as Morrigan, running off with/being kidnapped by some Wundrous Society dude to join the entrance trials and live in Nevermoor. We also don’t know if Mildmay is dead or not, although Squall’s “I took care of him” absolutely makes it sound like he murdered him.

There is still SO much we don’t know about the Courage Square Massacre. Why it happened, how it happened (the buildup), and what happened after. Squall does not talk about it despite Morrigan’s constant reminders that he’s a murderer, but she has never actually asked for his side of the story. Squall has never actually gotten to explain himself, and we know he doesn’t tell Morrigan more than he deems necessary. There are no records of the Massacre in history books because it has all been abridged, removed, forgotten, and Morrigan isn’t allowed by Jupiter to return to the Gobleian Library to check out the other Wundrous Art volumes (although, if she really wanted to go she would. She had her mind elsewhere during Silverborn, poor thing).

We know some things about Wundersmiths and specifically how Squall views *being* a Wundersmith though. We know there are supposed to be nine, and when one dies, within everywhere from a few days to a few years the power will transfer and a new Wundersmith will be born. The fact that no new Wundersmiths have been born for a hundred years is WEIRD if you ask me. Maybe Wunder was shocked, tapped out, in mourning over its lost Smiths, Wunder’s interperator for the citizens of the world. Maybe it didn’t want to risk the same happening again. Wunder has an amazing memory, Jupiter says.

We also know about Squall’s frustration with being a servant to the public. “Wundersmiths take none of the credit and all of the blame”, talking about how Wundersmiths are made to do rich people’s bidding just because they have the power. I think he wanted to regain control over his own abilities and Wundrous Acts, so when the Wintersea Party offered him exactly that, control, he took the opportunity. But! Just killing all of the other Wundersmiths would be a stupid idea, because then they would all just be reincarnated and, even though they wouldn’t have any teachers to teach them the Wundrous Arts, cause trouble for Squall if he wasn’t able to track them down. He kills all Cursed children, but we know that most of the Cursed children, if not all of them except Morrigan, are not Wundersmiths. I think he, or his collaborators, made up the rumour about Cursed children to have someone to blame when things didn’t go their way. Humans love to have someone else to blame instead of putting the shame on themselves, it’s just manipulation.

It would also just generally be weird that 1. ALL Wundersmiths are born on eveningtide when it’s said to be random (it’s not specified all Wundersmiths are Eveningtide children, at least), and 2. that NO Wundersmiths are born in the Free State. It doesn’t add up, which means that Morrigan has to be the first Wundersmith after the Massacre.

But why was Morrigan born? What triggered it? Why did she become a Wundersmith, and how is she the first in 100 years?

Because a different Wundersmith died.

What if the reason for why Squall is so terrified of Maud Wintersea is because she or the Wintersea Party was the one to order the kidnapping of the eight other Wundersmiths of Squall’s generation?

I keep saying Maud specifically because I find it very possible she is either some kind of long-living species of human or she has a knack related to it, or, more likely, she gets Squall to use Tempus to stretch out her lifespan. We know very little about her, other than she’s sketchy as fuuuck.

Kidnapping the other Wundersmiths, maybe putting them in some kind of stasis, paralyzed, unable to do anything-state, would give Squall total control over Wunder. What he didn’t anticipate was falling into an even deeper trap by joining Wintersea.

I just generally find it so weird with how he acts in the Ghostly Hours, and Morrigan also points it out herself, his relationship with his friends seemed so “normal”. No maliciousness, no deep-rooted hidden hate, just a normal kid with friends at school. There was no hint to him turning on his friends and murdering them, so in my mind there HAS to be someone who influenced him or commanded him to do it. To me he almost seems regretful when snapping and ranting about Wundersmiths being servants and used by the elite. He didn’t want to hurt his friends.

[hijadelverano]

A secret place, just for them

Summary: two lonely souls met in their most sacred place and suddenly, it was like they knew each other forever

World count: 1.6k

Warnings: it's just a lot of fluff and a lot of reflection on what literature means to them (and for me, so this is kinda an insert???). My character is latina, I put a photo here but you can imagine her as you want. No beta read and english is not my first language, so sorry in advance.

Note: I have six mid-term exams next week but I couldn't continue living without finishing this.

Hope you enjoy!

We went around without looking for each other, but knowing we went around to find each other.

-Julio Cortázar

When you’re little and your teacher asks you to think about what literature means to you, your mind goes black. The classroom’s answers are all the same: either it’s fun or boring and feels like some kind of obligation. But at the back of the class, a kid thinks differently but is ashamed to admit it out loud. Luckily, those who were shy could write the answers on a piece of paper anonymously. 

Later, when the kids are entertained with their tasks, the teacher takes a moment to read those answers and there’s one that catches her eye. It is an escape, she read, like a portal to another world that has to have a good ending.

My goodness, she whispered. These kids were barely ten, how could they think like that? Those words held so much wisdom and a hint of sadness too. She had a guess of who could’ve written this but in the end, she did nothing but continue teaching the value of books hoping that would be enough.

The years passed, these kids grew up and forged their personalities as the time passed. Some of them changed but one stayed the same. That girl in the back stayed the same, she might’ve grown taller, her body more mature as she entered her adulthood but her soul was the same. She never changed that opinion about books, and that must’ve been the first sign of her loneliness.

She was alone until she remembered the words she carried with her, the weight of the book waiting to be held again. Books became her companion, her escape but also the anchor that she needed when her mind tried to escape from reality. The words grounded her, hugged her when the sadness took over, and answered the question she never dared to say out loud. They were her lullabies in times of insomnia when her mind wouldn’t turn off .

We live and breathe words, a quote from a book she doesn’t remember but it lingered enough in her heart to have it tattooed on her wrist years later. A reminder that literature is everywhere and, whether you're conscious about it or not, it shapes not only your mind but the entire society you live in.

Sol, that was her name, created a tradition she didn’t share with anyone but her. Every time she felt the words were stuck in her throat, she would find a quote, read it, and even print it. That way her soul found peace, because there was someone who felt the same, wrote it, and published it so that everybody could identify with the words.

Those quotes were her armor, her salvation when the world felt too heavy to carry, and she never thought she could find someone who felt the same until she did.

The meeting was so cheesy in a Hallmark movie style. Of all the places fate could’ve chosen, it picked the most sacred one - for both of them.

It was a library, of course it was. Not a regular one that felt too impersonal. It was the coziest and warmest library, each shelf hiding secret passages in between. It was small but it still fitted a cafeteria in a corner like it was always supposed to be there. The smell of books - old and new - mixed with coffee made the place a safe heaven, a limbo where you could disconnect and just be.

One hand already holding two books - quite heavy, may she add - while the other one trying to reach one above her. She’s trying so hard to not curse, too stubborn to get help, stepping on her toes trying to reach that black book that caught her attention.

And like it was scripted, a hand behind her reached the book and grabbed it like it was the easiest thing in the world. When she turned to thank her savior - just for courtesy as she swears she could’ve done it by herself -, she raised her gaze and met the warmest brown eyes she’s ever seen. He was older than her, the lines beside his eyes hid an entire story she was curious to know, and was holding his own stack of books in his big arms - was it getting warmer there or it was just her imagination?

“Hmm, Cortázar” he read the author's name, his voice was deep and soft “ wait, this is Hopscotch?” he asked, handing her the book.

She thanked him and smiled before answering “Yes, this is the Spanish version. I’m just lucky they got it here”.

“Never read that one before, I heard the chapters are disorganized and it’s difficult to read”.

“There are multiple ways to read this book, and that’s what makes it so fascinating: you get different stories from the same book,” you said, happy at the opportunity to talk about her favorite novel, hoping she could convince him to read it.

Her eyes flicked quickly to one of the books he was holding, reading the name of the author, and then added “But I guess the best arguments in the world won’t change a person’s mind. The only thing that can do that is a good story”.

To her delight, his eyes widened, recognizing the quote. His face illuminated in a way she didn’t expect, always assuming no one would know her references.

“You’ve read Richard Powers?”

Before they knew it, they had paid for their books and were sitting at the small table in the corner waiting for their coffee order. They didn’t know anything about each other, the personal questions felt unnecessary at the moment. Every second of their conversation was used to talk about their favorite author and the books that marked them growing up. When they found out they read the same book, a new endless conversation started. They couldn’t stop smiling, even though their cheeks hurt. 

None of them wanted to stop, but the library was closing. Maybe they should’ve followed this in another place, but this shared encounter was already perfect as it was. Meeting each other in a place that was a sacred heaven for both of them felt so great. It was like fate, God or whoever had the power, decided to finally gift them some grace and cross their road. 

So here they stood, outside the library, looking at each other while finding the courage to say goodbye. Their way back home was in opposite directions which saddened them. Suddenly she was nervous,  gripping the plastic bag in her right hand a little too tight.

“I’ve just realized I don’t know your name” she said and they laughed.

“Let me do this right,”  he extended his hand. “I’m Michael Robinavitch, but my friends call me Robby.”

“Sol Torres, you can call me Sol but my friends like to annoy me with Sunny” she said, grabbing his hand. Their touch felt electric against their skin like it was sealing something they couldn’t name yet but they accepted it either way.

Here goes nothing, she thought before extending a bag to him “This is for you”, God she could feel her cheeks getting warmer at every second. He was definitely surprised, his eyes going from the bag to look at her face and to the bag again.

Robby.exe had stopped working. 

It took him many seconds for his brain to send a signal to his hand and finally grab the bag. He was beyond surprised, his face didn’t even try to hide it. When he took the book out of the plastic bag, he went speechless.

“Hopscotch? How - When?” he stuttered while looking at the brand new edition of the Cortázar book, this one in english, that initiated everything just mere hours ago.

“When you went to the bathroom” she explained, omitting the fact that she almost ran to the counter and asked the girl on the counter to help her. The librarian, already sensing the vibes, just said I got you girl and when Robby came back to the table, he didn’t notice the new plastic bag beside her.

“I can’t accept this” you are telling him that she bought the same book, her favorite, in both Spanish and English so that she could give him an edition he could read? The heart inside him woke up from its slumber and started beating so hard that all of Pittsburgh could hear it.

This woman can’t be real.

“Open the book,” she said, her voice was soft, no longer nervous as before. He did as she said (on a parallel note, he vowed to forever answer her commands, but he pushed that thought to the bottom of his brain quickly as his heart could deal with that right now) and opened the book, speechless again. “See that number? I expect a text when you finish the book”

“And if I want to call you instead?”

It was already night outside, but her smile, oh her smile, was just as bright as the sun - a true honor to her name.

Without knowing, their little bookclub became their lifeline, a little paradise only for the two of them, where they could hide when the world became too much. Little by little, they learned about each other, every quote they shared came with a story of their past and present. By the end of the day, these two souls weren’t lonely anymore, for they found their true companion to carry the weight they felt. 

In literature, they have an escape and that’s where they found each other.