#I really to draw them more but work is drying me so bad

[philistiniphagottini]

Hiii can I please request number 7 + Blade? I really enjoy the way you write him. Thank you if you end up doing this!

Thank you for the ask Anon. I appreciate you telling me that you enjoy the way I write Blade, he's my current favourite character and I'd love it if people wanted to talk to me more about him. I hope you enjoy. Comments/reblogs greatly appreciated.

cw. light angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of blood, gender neutral reader, chubby reader, minors DO NOT interact

7. Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

Prompts

Your room smelled of disinfectant and medicinal salves. It clogged your nose when you breathed deep, a pinch forming between your furrowed brow as you slowly and meticulously wrap fresh bandages around Blade’s exposed bicep. You had to discard his jacket, the material slashed and tattered laying in a bloody heap long forgotten on the floor as you gave your undivided attention to Blade. 

He thinks it's a wasted effort but he lets you do as you please. His free hand is resting in your lap, fingers lazily curled into your thigh until the soft skin squished beneath his touch. You feel incredibly warm beneath the tips of his fingers as he stared at you, absentmindedly watching you work patch up his wounds. Wounds that would naturally heal themselves just be another chip on his scarred and haggard body. Your attentiveness wasn’t needed when he was cursed to constantly heal but you always kicked up a fuss whenever he returned to you in a bloody heap, supporting fresh wounds and a tired look in his eyes. 

It was a little awkward for you shuffling around Blade as you worked. You were practically, almost in his lap as you hovered over him on the bed, the sheets already drying with flakes of blood and whatever else Blade had dragged in the door with him. The sheets needed to be changed as soon as you got the chance. The stench of decay and death was particularly strong on him today. It almost made you blanch. The tips of your fingers grazed the top of his bicep as you finished wrapping the bandage around him, your lips pressed into a tight, thin line as a pensive frown plagued your facade. You eventually had to stuff your bottom lip between the pinch of your teeth to stop it from quivering as you blinked rapidly to dispel the wetness clinging to the edges of your thick lashes. 

“Don’t give me that look” Blade said, his quiet murmur cutting through the thick silence. 

You released your bruised lip from between your teeth as your gaze now flickered up to his face, his piercing red stare causing a shiver to creep along the notches of your spine. You sniffled softly, unshed crystalline tears still vehemently beading at the corners of your eyes and making your vision a little blurry. 

“What look?” you asked as you reached for another bottle of medicinal salve. 

Blade gently caught your wrist before you could grab it, preventing you from swiping it off the little bedside table nestled close to you. Your hand started to shake and he could feel the tremble of your pulse when he pressed his fingers into your wrist. You peered up at him beneath the hood of your lashes as they fluttered over your round cheeks. 

“That look” Blade said. “Sadness doesn’t suit you.”

Something tugged on your heart strings. You were sad because of him. Because it hurt you to see his body so battered and bruised. It hurt you whenever he said you were wasting your time patching him up. He would naturally regenerate, such was his curse. It was barely a comforting thought. Too many bad thoughts plagued your head like a persistent swarm of insects, their buzzing incessant and never ceasing no matter how many times you tried to swat them away. You took a shuddering breath.

“It brings me no joy seeing you in pain.”

Tears threatened to spill down your cheeks and before they could, Blade was drawing you into his lap. You complained at first, not wanting your weight to hurt him in any way but he batted away your protests. He coiled his arms around your plump waist, giving your soft stomach a gentle squeeze as you were coddled in his lap, your thick thighs falling beside his as you were forced to sit on top of him. It felt a little ridiculous. He was the patient, not you. Blade wasn’t good with words. He didn’t know how to tell you not to worry. He couldn’t weave words like countless others he knew could. He lacked tact when it came to delicate matters and he knew his blunt words were only going to cause you further distress. You didn’t treat him like a weapon, the way he believed he deserved to be treated. You were too kind and soft hearted. You have no reason to be so close to him, when his sharp edges could cut into your soft skin and hurt you. Yet, you give your kindness to him so freely and easily, despite one wrong whisper of the mara threatening to creep in. He could hurt you. But you knew he wouldn’t. He’d rather fall on his sword than intentionally hurt you, mara or not. 

You hid your tear stained face from his sight, lips pressed to the purple and red bruises forming over his skin as they bled into his skin. These too would fade soon and the press of your plush lips was the healing balm. Blade slowly rubbed his hands along your back, his calloused fingers aching when he smoothed them against your pillowy soft skin. You were so incredibly soft and warm it was already lulling him into a state of peace. He can feel your salty tears wet his skin and it only makes him squeeze your soft waist harder. 

“Blade, can you please be a little more careful?” you softly requested. “If not for your sake, then for mine?”

He’s not sure you know what you’re asking of him. The way you had worded it, he’s unsure if it was intentional or not. Because it was exceedingly hard for Blade to refuse a request from you. Not when you ask it in such a sticky sweet voice that he can feel it rotting on the back of his teeth when you say his name like that. He was rough and sharp around the edges but only you were able to soften it up and dull it. You made him feel like he wanted to be good. Only wanted to be good just for you. No one else. Your skin squishes under his touch as his large, scarred hands touch your soft stomach, a soft hum stirring in the back of his throat as you plant another soft kiss on his bruises. 

“Just for you” he replied. 

He didn’t elaborate further and you hoped it was a promise he was going to keep. It brought a little smile to your face as you wrapped your arms around Blade’s neck, hugging him closer to your body as you tangled your hands in the baby hairs lining the nape of his neck. For now, it was enough.

[magnimoon]

I'm planning on doing more OptiLily content, however with another of his designs.

Which Optimus Prime would you like to see??

I know that Prime, RID 2015 and Rescue Bots is the same guy (somehow), but I want to try different styles so that eventually I can design my own version for the fanfic, just like I did with Bumblebee 💛

[puppppppppy]

for like 3 weeks i was wondering why i was sleeping so much and felt listless. and just now I managed to email 3 people and responded to a month old message in the span of an hour because I got back to TAKING MY FUCKIN MEDS..........

[thrashkink-coven]

Super easy and cheap devotional acts for beginners.

A nice cup and some clean, fresh, water on the altar can often be all you need for daily offerings

Grow a plant on your altar, use your weekly watering as a devotional act. Hermes is currently helping my peace lily grow :)

Draw their sigil on your nails and then paint over them with nail polish that matches their color correspondences.

If you can’t acquire alcohol for your deities (wine, vodka etc) because you’re too young, white vinegar also works. The quality we’re looking for is the purification aspect. White vinegar is natural, antibacterial and never goes bad. You can leave it on your altar until it evaporates if you want.

If you work with a deity involved with self love like Aphrodite, investing a little more time into your skin care and scent can be very rewarding. Nothing super boujie, it can be as simple as getting some nice smelling lotion at the dollar store.

Food and water offerings don’t have to be external, especially if you’re in the broom closet and don’t have an altar. Reserve the first bite of your meal for your deity. Savour its taste while you think about them. Pour yourself a crisp glass of cold water and guzzle it as a devotional act.

Use a washable or dry erase marker to draw sigils on your shower wall for bath rituals. It’ll come right off when you’re done.

Tea bags are just bags of dried herbs. You can use these as offerings or draw sigils on them and burn them for witchcraft. No one is ever suspicious about a little tea. Adding a tea bag to your water offerings also gives them an extra kick.

A couple dollars at the thrift store will take you a long way. I love thrifting items because they’re usually well loved. I especially like thrifting spirituality books that past practitioners have written in. Sometimes my deities communicate with me through the books that are available on any given day. If I was just talking to Leviathan about the power of water and I see a book about Hydromancy, I know that he’s sending me a sign. Like, 90% of the books Lucifer has sent me popped up at the thrift store. Most expensive one was $7.99. (and I tag swapped it for 2.99 😊 thanks, Hermes-

and on this note, literally steal. Not from small local thrift stores, but I mean this with my whole chest, steal from Value Village. If you can sneakily swap a tag and get something for cheaper literally do it. Value Village gets all their inventory for free I literally do not care. Corporate thrift stores don’t deserve rights. I steal from Value Village as a devotional act to Hermes 😊 lmao )

If you don’t have money to spend on really nice paintings and posters of your deities for your altar, start buying books about them. It’s a double win. A book about Greek religion will certainly have multiple beautiful sculptures and paintings of Aphrodite that I can cut out and put on my wall. A book about angels might have a cool painting of Lucifer. Books about Goddesses, ancient religions, anthropology, astrology etc. You get the opportunity to learn, and if it’s a book you don’t particularly care too much for, you can take it apart for imagery. People ask me all the time where I got all of my paintings and pictures from. BOOKS.

Does your deity have a kind of complicated sigil that you love but you also kinda hate redrawing every other day? Sorry Cerberus (Naberius) I love you but that sigil is so complicated babe.

Learn how to block print! It’s very simple. You get a block of linoleum (usually pretty cheap, I think mine were like $5) , some ink (~$10), and a carving tool (varies depending), and make a sigil stamp! All you gotta do is draw your sigil and carve it out nicely one time. You can still bless it and imbue it with your energy, and you can easily put it on prayers, talismans etc.

Chalk is your best friend. Use it to draw sigils on the floor or wall that can easily be wiped away. You can imbue special chalk and use it for casting circles if you don’t like the mess of salt.

[carbonfiction]

Beggin' Blue's

Its been a long day for you both; so what better way to unwind than with some couch cuddles that, with the help of Logans teasing, turn into you begging on your loves lap..

It would seem that deadpool & wolverine (and Hugh Jackman's oiled up abs) has brought me out of a hugeee writing rut..right back into whoresville.. So! Please enjoy a dose of unbridled filth!

Originally pictured with dp&w!logan but feel free to imagine whatever you like!

Masterlist

Warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI, Fem reader, pretty much porn without plot? Mostly smut with some fluff. unprotected sex, logan being a mouthy tease, begging, thigh riding, praise, light degradation? Pet names (bub, princess, fuck toy) couch sex? Uhh think thats it? (If I've missed anything please let me know! Its been a while..) Words: 2.4k

Closing your laptop and stretching out on the couch, you end up hearing Logan before you see him.

"Bub? You home?" he calls out as he drops his shoulders in a tired breath, toed off boots quickly thudding against the floor.

You shout back and hear him drag his feet along the hallway, making his way over to the couch where he knows he'll inevitably find you working.

"there she is!-" he beams at the sight of you despite the noticeable slouch of his frame. "You alright?"

You nod slightly, the smile that graced your lips forming into a small frown when he draws to a stop behind the couch. "Mhm, you okay? You look tired.

"I look tired? Yeah bub.. Was a long day...you know how Wade is" Logan sighs as he stretches his body slightly, his closed eyes unconsciously tensing from the strain of sore muscles. "Scoot over, want to sit with you"

You scoot over and he sits with a heavy sigh, your hand immediately finding his rough palm; holding it gently.

"How was your day, bub?"

"Shouldn't i be asking you that?" you tease with a soft smile before kissing the back of his hand, right along the knuckles that house his claws.

His skin crinkles with the rise of his lips, fondness shining bright in his eyes. "I always want to hear about your day, if it's a good or a bad one."

There's a calmed hush that falls over the room as you explain to him about your day, about that meeting you had over zoom and how your co worker Susan *really* needs to be more punctual for deadlines..

Then, Wordlessly, his head cocks to yours with a soft hum. "Come sit on my knee? Yeah, come on... There she is"

Soft smiles grace both your faces as you come to rest on his lap, your arms on his shoulders. You hug yourself into his body, hands quickly finding the hairs at the nape of his neck and playing with them.

He smells of ash and sweat and blood mixed with that thing that is just so distinctively *him*. A heady tobaccoed musk that brings such comfort to your heart every time you catch a wiff.

"Well then ... this is quite the position isn't it..." he smirks, hands finding your hips as his voice drops slightly, momentary confusion drawing itself in your expression "You know, You sat on top of me like this? Now, now bub...

A dusty blush heats your cheeks, teeth lowering into your lip at Logans playful words. For a man who was so calculated in his silence, he certainly knew how to play you like a fiddle with his words.

"Don't get all coy. Look at you getting all shy, you're adorable bub... So innocent and yet somehow such a.." he pauses, finding the right word. "Minx."

You take him in. All gruff and rugged and wronged. Hes so broad sat below you like this, wide shoulders, hefty biceps, all owering down to a pretty waist and thighs that you yourself would kill for.

"Look at me. Concentrate." Logans hands tap lightly on your ass, playful but demanding as he tuts; faux disappointment on his lips. "We were talking, remember? Focus on my voice."

You nod at that, eagerly, mouth drying as you feel his hands smoothing themselves up your thighs.

"Ohhh.." he chuckles "That made your ears perk up huh bub?..Does my good girl like hearin my voice? Yeah?"

You whine, wanton and bashful all in one delightful little sound, that drives Logan absolutely wild.

"Does it... make your belly feel warm? Hm bub? Yeah, deep inside... feeling all those butterflies when I call you my pretty girl?" Your sure hes mocking you at this point. Body in his lap, panties steadily soaking while he teases and mocks with his words. He'd had you wrapped around his thick fingers since the moment you'd met, truly.

"Lo- Logan please" you beg, what for your not fully certain, desperation building in your gut and clouding yout senses.

"What about... if I call you.." he pauses and you can feel the hardness of him growing beneath you. The urge to move your hips tugs at that spot in your lower stomach, beginning to rut slowly against his denim clad buldge.

His voice drops. "My pretty.. Little..Toy hm bub? Is that you? My very own little fuck toy?"

Now that; that draws a deep moan from your lips. Logan simply chuckles again, deep and throaty, planting a kiss on your forehead before he's nuzzling his bearded face down by your ear, your throat, your chest.

"Atta girl.. only girl I need...It's always been you bub."

His simple affirmation breaks you, makes your hips move against the hardness of him faster, control flying out of the window, unable to keep the slow pace any longer. You mewl as you move, the friction is still barley there, not remotely enough to make you cum. Its needy and dirty and desperately done but you *don't fucking care*.

You feel Logan's rumbled growl before you hear it, deep and guttural. His eyes are dark as he watches you move, hands simply resting on your hips, occasionally pulling you downwards, lips curled into that little half smirk that drives you up the absolute wall.

"Now tell me bub... You thinking about... All of the ways I could make you feel good? Tell me hm? Tell me what you want"

"W-want you logan, please, need you to touch me.. make me feel good"

with that he surges forward again, his scruffed face rubs along your skin as his lips finally connect to that spot just between your earlobe and neck, sucking softly, making you shudder. "Does it feel good...When I kiss your neck? like this?" his words are whispered but you feel each and every one against your skin. it makes you shake and whimper.

"listen to those pretty little whines, You know I love it when you get needy princess.."

your hips rock desperately, cotton rubbing on denim, groans tumbling from your mouths.

"Use your words bub. What'd you want? Want to get yourself off on my lap? Is that it? Hm? " its incredible that he gets the words out. the feeling of your cunt soaking through both your pants is driving him crazy.

"Just w-want you.. Please" its a whine, bratty and weak.

"You want me? You have me bub. I'm all yours, you have me beneath you grindin those pretty hips on me.. What do you really want? Come on, use your big girl words one last time, you can do it.."

"Logannn" you stretch the whine that boils embarrassingly in your throat, your legs beginning to tremor, the coil in your gut growing as you rut breathlessly. "p-please, not enough, want you.. want your cock.. Need to feel you inside; wanna cum on it" you plead, lips pouted and eyes teary as they lock into his gaze.

Logan groans, his pants feeling impossibly tight at your state as he *finally* brings his hands up, up, up until your shirt is nothing but a bundle on the floor.

In response you tug his off too, leaving you both bare chested. The cool air of the room crossed with the heat of his naked chest has your nipples pebbled.

Hard and sensitive, they rub against his pecks, the smattering of hair tickling across them in a delightful way.

"So fucking cute... Look at you bub, such a pretty girl soaking herself on my lap.. Go on, get me out and take it, take what you need from me"

A simple nod of your head is the only Indelicator you've heard him as your fingers rake down his chest, nails scraping against his abs, down to his happy trail and the large, soaked denim buldge that sits below it.

You say nothing as you move quick, your leggings and underwear joining the hasty pile of shirts on the floor.

You kneel fully nude next to him, deft fingers wasting no time as the button of logans jeans is popped, the zipper quickly tugged free as you hurriedly try to reach beneath them. Panting, your other hand gives a tap to his left hip and he lifts himself up; knowing and just as needy; enough to push his ruined jeans and underwear down his thighs.

He growls deep in his throat as he slaps against his lower stomach, your hand immediately making contact with the full length of him. It sends sparks up his spine, his heavy cockhead leaking and red.

Its only a blink before your back on his lap, knees caging his thick thighs as you spread yourself wide. You slip his cock hole to clit, teasing, before your lining him up and slipping down.

Logan groans deep in his chest, your slick walls enveloping him with wet warmth, bringing him home inside you.

And for a moment, brief and all too quick, you still above him. Hands resting heavy on his chest while you adjust to the delicious stretch of him.

Fuck. Fuck he feels good.

"Come on bub... move those hips, make us feel good"

That gets you moving, content to do all of the work as a steadying sloppy *plap* joins the sounds that spill from you. Lifting and falling against him feels good, so good, inside of you and its a wonder you ever really let him leave.

If life didnt matter and there was no such thing as bills or a universe to save you know your pussy would be moulded to him, or at least more than it already is. It would become a human necessity to have him wrapped tight and snug in every given moment, holding him close. Logan, you, your bodies and souls connected in every possible way until you both withered.

Its lewd and dirty as Logans hips meet yours every down thrust, nudging himself against that little spot deep inside that only he can reach, you whining and panting into his neck.

"L-Logan haaaa- fuck, feels so good." its choked out between moans and the clash of teeth, lips meeting in what can only be described as a downright pornographic kiss, the pleasure building in your gut as you bounce and rock on his lap.

"Love when you get up real fucking close bub. Moving your hips up and down. Thattts it, yeaaaah, good girl, keep bouncing. love doing as you're told." Logans hands grip tight on your hips, on your boobs, on your ass- anywhere he can reach as he throws his head back against the couch, a smile tugging on his lips that makes your cunt clench around him; body begining to quiver.

"You. love. being. fucked. Don't you princess..." he punctuates his words with one, two, three, *four* slow methodical thrusts that each hit a spot deeper than the last, one hand giving a rough, sharp slap against your taught nipples before he grips the meat of the left tight.

It has you mewling, borderline writhing above him, loud crys falling from your lips as your pace starts faltering, the tips of your fingers and toes begin to tingle with that telltale sign of release.

"G-gonna cum, Lo-mhmm- logan, fuck, please please let me cum" its a sob, tears brimming as his fingers drift from your chest, finding your throbbing bud of nerves and strumming against it.

"Then cum. Go on, you're allowed. You have my permission. Cum real fucking pretty for me bub."

Your orgasm crashes over you, like a bucket of iced water thrown. You sob out as he takes the lead fucking you through it, until overstimulation bubbling in.

"Thats it- fuckkkkk, There you fucking go... that's a good girl!" Logan grits out at feeling of your pussy clenching rhythmically around his cock.

You take over rocking your hips as you come down from the feeling of euphoria; body still tingling with the aftershocks as you pull his weighty hand away from your puffy clit, dragging his arms up and pinning them besides his head with yours.

Beneath you logans lip is held between his teeth as you lean forward planting your lips on his. The kiss is messy, if you can even call it one, a clash of lips and tongue. His eyes screw shut with a moan as you feel his cock twitch in your sensitive cunt and you whisper out a small, hardly audible "inside, please"

You move quicker now, needing to feel him release, no longer bouncing but grinding. It has him louder against your mouth as you circle above him, desperately trying to maintain a consistent pace despite the overstimulation bubbling up your spine, a painful kind of pleasure.

"Fuck... d-don't do that... f-fucking circling your hips... shit! Oh my god... Gonna cum!" Logan borderline yelps the words out, before he moans. Actually moans. Loud and far too pussy drunk to care as his hips stutter, cock pulsing, as his balls drain themselves of the hot cum actively shooting out in ribbons inside the depths of your cunt.

He's nothing short of breathless as he finally breaks your grip, bringing his hands down to your hips tightly, stopping you from moving.

Then, for a brief while, the only sounds come from deep in your chests, racing hearts pressed against one another with heavy breaths.

The hush that falls over you both after sex was one of your favorites, feeling the closeness of eachother whilst your brain buzzes to catch up. Its a warm, contented feeling that logan never expected to have, not with all hes been through... But with you? Head nestled into his neck, body clinging onto his and on the very verge of sleep? Hes more than thankful he gets the experience.

He shifts to move, cock softening inside of you, likely heading for the shower before your small, meek voice stills him with a unhappy whine. "Mhm no, wanna stay here, jus' for a little"

You hold yourself further onto his body, worn and wearily attempting to steel yourself from his movements. He simply smiles, warm and tired. A quiet hum vibrates against your head, before his arms wrap around you tigher.

"just for a little, then we gotta get you cleaned up bub" He agrees, shuffling back further on the plush couch cushions, one hand rubbing soothingly over you back. You feel his scruffed cheek turn, lips placing a soft kiss to the top of your hair as your eyes flutter sleepily, just barely hearing the words he whispers.

"Thats it.. Close your eyes pretty girl.. You're alright, I've got you"

[airybcby]

Having His Baby

a/n — osamu brainrot is actually insane. not proofread so for sure horrible i wrote this on a whim 🫶🏼

content — nsfw, 18+, osamu x fem! reader, breeding kink, goes back and forth between high school and time skip, reader and osamu are high school sweethearts, reader and osamu are married, mating press, cursing, talk of a pregnancy scare, nicknames(pretty girl, nasty girl, baby, maybe more i forgot), daddy kink if you squint, i think that’s it! lmk if i missed anything!

synopsis — in high school osamu miya knew you were meant to be a mom, but seven years later he’d finally decided he would make you one himself.

✿.｡.“ screaming but daddy i love him! ”.｡.✿

Osamu always knew you’d be a good mom. From the moment he'd met you in the nurse's office during his first year, you simply radiated that aura. Always so willing to help him every time he and atsumu got in a fight or he got hurt in volleyball — you would drop everything to come help him in the nurse's office.

Sure, it wasn't exactly smart to skip the classes that Osamu needed you in, but that was your job. You were the nurse's student assistant after all.

You hadn't gotten the courage to actually speak to him until his fourth appearance in there, yes you'd given him your number just so he could text if he needed help, but the two of you only texted when he was hurt. (you had no idea how many “you up?” texts he had wanted to send to you to see if you'd respond)

It was an accident really, saying your first real words to him. They were simply out of shock as you saw his lip cut open and his jaw already beginning to bruise, "what happened to you?” you had asked, hand slightly grazing the boy's, now bruised, jaw.

That was a million years ago in Osamu’s mind, while it really had only been seven. So much had changed since he first met you, you started dating not soon after, and then he'd married you, he’d opened his own onigiri business, and it all led here — to the two of you cooking in the kitchen. " ‘samu, can you get me a bowl? There's none in the drying rack and my hands are dirty.” your cute voice broke him out of the weird trance he was under as he watched you work. “Anything for you baby.” he cooed as he reached over your head and grabbed a clean bowl for you.

Everything was always clean in your shared home, which shouldn't have been a bad thing— except it was to Osamu. As a kid, he remembered him and Atsumu making various messes whether it be with liquids or even drawing on the walls- their home was very rarely clean. Osamu loved and appreciated everything you did for the house, but the ache to have kids that would make simple messes prodded at him more often than he would've liked to admit. He remembered the first time he brought kids up to you in high school during second year.

“ ya ever think about havin' kids? ” he asked as the both of you lay in his bed, his TV just droning on as background noise since the two of you had been talking the entire time. “Hmm…sometimes. I have dreams that we have kids- twins actually,” you admitted. Your raw and honest confession shouldn't have had his cock stirring in his pants the way it did, “Really?” he asked as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, imagining your stomach all round with his children, not one child, but twins. “Yeah, and they look like you,” you said simply, hands finding their way to his dyed locs and running through them. That conversation made Osamu Miya realize that he would rather die than not have kids with you. (and that he had a breeding kink but he found that far too embarrassing to tell you)

When you press the spoon to Osamus's mouth is when he suddenly comes back to the present, “Open samu, need my favorite person to make sure it tastes good.” you smiled as the man opened his mouth and allowed you to feed him— which only made him think of you feeding a baby - your baby. The male nodded as he pulled away from the spoon, “tastes good baby.” He wasn’t lying, it did taste good- but maybe the thought of you feeding a child made his mind a bit fuzzy. “thank goodness, it’s a new recipe, so I was really worried.” you gave your husband a smile as you turned back around, grabbing the bowl osamu had gotten you.

Maybe it was the high school memories coming back to him, or maybe it was him thinking about how the house was always spotless, hell— perhaps it was because you just looked so cute right now with your apron around your waist and spoon in hand. Whatever it was, Osamu couldn’t help the ache he felt in his pants, coming behind you and placing his hands on your stomach. “ ‘Yer so cute…”

“mhm, thank you, baby. you’re real cute too.” you smiled as you tilted your head up, giving him a quick peck on the chin. As you returned to what you were doing, filling bowls with the soup you had made for dinner, Osamu pressed himself against you, his hard-on very prominent. As much as you could’ve tried to ignore him, your husband always got his way when it came to you, “ ‘Samu dinners ready…” you said as you pressed your back into his chest- face beginning to heat up.

“ it can wait…need you right now-” usually your husband was a kind, patient man (except when he ‘had’ to fuck you in the back room of onigiri miya when you brought him some lunch) “You’d be such a good mommy…so good to our babies.” the male muttered against your hair, grabbing your waist and grinding against your clothed cunt. a small moan fell from your lips, “ ‘s-samu! it’ll get cold-”

It wasn’t like you were oblivious to Osamu's want for kids, in your third year you and Osamu had had a pregnancy scare. While many other 18-year-old boys would’ve probably been relieved seeing that one line on the pregnancy test, Osamu felt some strange emptiness and disappointment. sure, it wasn’t ideal to be teen parents, but he couldn’t figure out why he so badly wanted you to have his baby. It was on that same day that he figured out he didn’t want a professional volleyball career, no he wanted to have a true career that let him be home with you as often as he could be (so he could knock you up.) ever since that day, every time you passed the baby section in a store- his eyes would glaze over and he’d mention how tiny the shoes and clothes were, and you’d talked about kids- but never were you guys actually ‘trying’ for a baby.

“ jus’ reheat it,” Osamu mumbled as he picked you up, strong hands that still hold proof of his years of playing volleyball and now being a professional chef digging into the underside of your thighs. Your house wasn’t large in the slightest, but the minute it took for him to carry you felt like it took an eternity. The second Osamu’s foot crossed over the barrier of your shared bedroom- his lips were on yours. The kiss was downright disgusting, spit being shared as his tongue invaded your mouth, leaving you gasping for air when he finally pulled away. “ so pretty…” he mumbled as he carried you over to the bed, using one of his hands to untie the apron that hugged your waist in a way that turned his brain to mush.

Osamu groaned as he pulled off your shirt, seeing that you had no bra on, “you knew this was gon’ happen didn’t ya pretty?” he asked as skillfully he pulled his gray shirt off with one hand, making you squirm under his intense gaze. “n-no I just-” but Osamu didn’t want to hear your excuses, there was no need for them now. his hand quickly pushed you down to where your back met the mattress, lips puckering around one of your nipples as he played with your other one. he wasn’t much of a boob man, much rather enjoying your ass, but even he couldn’t stop the images of your tits full of milk from invading his mind. he let out a groan as he looked up at you, hand covering your mouth as you watched him- face flushed in arousal and maybe some embarrassment. “let me hear you pretty girl.” he came up and caught your lips in another kiss, hand sneaking down to the waistband of your his shorts and pulling them off of your legs in one quick movement. if there was one thing about Osamu Miya, it was that he knew how to get you undressed in a matter of seconds.

You instinctively tried closing your legs, but Osamu knew you too well, his knee already finding solace between your legs as he pulled away from the kiss, a string of spit connecting the two of you as he looked down at you. “fuck baby…look at how wet you are,” you let out a small moan as he ran a finger over your clothed cunt, your panties becoming insanely wet as you reached down and grabbed his wrist. “please ‘samu, need you…” you begged as you shook your head. “want you in me-”

Now usually your husband wasn’t the type to fuck you without fingering you or (his favorite) eating you out, but right now his cock was begging to be freed from the confines of his jeans. “my pretty girl…”he mumbled as he pulled off your panties, a string of arousal connecting to you, making him let out a groan. “need to fuck ya right now…” and Osamu made good on his word, quickly getting rid of his jeans and boxers, cock springing to life- making you moan as you saw it. it didn’t matter how many times you’d seen Osamu in his bare glory, it always made you want to thank whatever gods decided you were good enough for him.

You remembered in high school when the two of you had first had sex, both inexperienced as you tried figuring out what position worked for the both of you and accidentally breaking his bed— something atsumu never lets you forget.

Osamu groaned as his tip met your entrance, staring at you with those bedroom eyes that were like a remedy to any problem you ever had,chest heaving as he stopped himself from shoving into you- wanting you to be ready for him. “please samu…need it so bad-” you cried out as you reached up to his neck, moaning as you brought him down for another kiss. osamu miya was nothing if not a gentleman who listened to his wife, pushing into your hole and bottoming out almost immediately, groaning against your lips,“still so tight fa me, huh baby?” the moan you let out was almost pornographic, back arching into your husband,“ fuck! S-samu!” you cried out, legs wrapping around his waist.

Sure, Osamu could’ve been nice and given you time to adjust to him like he usually did, but who had time for that when he needed to get you pregnant tonight? The male groaned as he took your legs and pushed them to where your knees were pressed against your chest, making him feel extra deep, “s-samu!” you cried out as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “yer so pretty, baby, my pretty girl…”osamu mumbled to himself. he didn’t even give you a warning before pulling out and slamming back into you, letting out his own moan as your nails scratched into his back.

You’d always been sensitive when it came to osamu, but never had you felt him this deep inside of you before, gasps and moans leaving your mouth. “feel me, baby? gonna get you pregnant, full of my cum.”osamu pressed down on your stomach as he thrust in and out of you in a rhythm you knew all too well. you tried answering him, truly you did, but even two seconds with Osamu into your cunt made you brain dead. “mhm-” was the only word you could make, giving your husband a small laugh as he looked down at you.

“Fucked ya dumb already pretty girl? C'mon, know ya got more in ya-” The teasing tone in his voice made you want to cry, but some sick sort of enjoyment of being embarrassed held back those tears. you looked so pretty under Osamu, your wedding ring adorning your finger as your hair was messily sprawled out beneath you with your knees pushed to your chest. Osamu thought he could take a mental picture and have enough spank bank material for three months, at least.

“Gonna cum- ah samu!” you whined out, nails scratching down your husband's back. Osamu let out a groan, maybe he should give you more money to get your nails done, because the short acrylics you have on scraping down his back made him want to short circuit. “cum for me baby, gonna look so good filled with my cum.” Osamu was on the brink of his release, groaning as he brought a hand down to finally rub your clit, giving you the final push to let go. you moaned out his name over and over, even slipping a small ‘daddy’ in the chant of words. With that one word, you made Osamu want to blow his load- feeling his hips stutter before stilling inside of you and releasing his cum. you whined as you felt him fill you up, your husband had always came a lot- but something about right now- this singular moment- made him give you everything he had.

Osamu looked down where the two of you were connected, seeing his and your cum mixing as it spilled out around his cock,“ fuck…” he said as he pulled out watching as more seeped out of your abused cunt. it would be a waste if you didn’t keep it all in, though. Osamu hummed as he fingered the cum back into you, making you let out a gasp from how overstimulated you already were.

“gotta make sure it sticks, baby.”

✿.｡.“ i’m having his baby ”.｡.✿

if you can’t tell, i love the miyas.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT

THE BOSS 🐙 SOSUKE AIZEN X F! MAID! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 4: SPANKING

🐙 requested by: Anonymous Hi my request for kinktober is: day 4: spanking, aizen x fem reader, dom aizen and kinda sub reader vibes and maybe make it slightly suggestive too. ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. spanking. aizen is a millionaire who thinks can do whatever he wants (he is right :p). dom! aizen. maid! reader. spanking. fingering. hair pulling. misfeasance. remembering how he humbled Grimmjow? well... 🐙 wc: 972 // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist

“(Name)!” Aizen screams from his office, startling you.

He usually doesn’t raise his voice, so he must be either stressed or very, very mad at you.

“Yes, Sosuke-sama?” you ask, drying your hands on your apron. You were washing porcelain crockery to have everything ready for the night; the Aizen family is hosting a dinner tonight, those where rich people come and laugh in equal “millionaire” tone as they brag about their wealth.

“I’ve been trying to contact my lawyer, some stupid problems with the company… come here” he says, a lot more calm now while patting his lap.

You start walking his way, swinging your body like a cat through his office. The ruffles of your short skirt, are just a cute accent on your maid uniform. The apron, a little bit wet still, immediately catches Aizen’s attention.

“Why are you wet? You shouldn’t mess with your uniform” he scolds you softly, as he receives you in his lap.

You straddle your hips on top of his legs, the ruffled under skirt gets all puffed up against his belly. Your cheeks become hot; and so does your crotch…

“I was doing the dishes, Aizen-sama…” you excuse yourself, trying to hide your apron underneath your hands. “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry… I wanted everything cleaned for tonight’s dinner”

Sosuke raises one of his brows, he is thinking about something. And, soon enough, his lips draw a naughty curve; a smirk that both gives you shivers and lustful thoughts.

“Why are you washing the crockery just now instead of having it already prepared? What have you been doing, (Name)?” he asks, this time a little bit more serious but still tinted in second -perverted- intentions.

“We had a lot of work to do, Aizen-sama! Your younger brother, Gin, asked us to …”

You are cut short as Sosuke doesn’t really care about your excuses, and much less about your reasons. There are two aspects in which he is your boss; one is related to work, and the other one as your dom. A whimsical, powerful millionaire that once decided your body was his property too. And you… how could you say no to Aizen Sosuke himself?

A heavy hand squeezes your cheeks; lips protruding, eyes scared… and yet, a core becoming wet, drippy, needy…

“When did I ever allow you to give me excuses, mh… (Name) (Surname)?” he asks, leaving you out of breath, almost asphyxiated by his mere attitude. A dominant, scary aura.

You blink rapidly; eyes teary… what if this time he won’t use your body, but instead you end up fired?

That, however, was exactly the right answer as Aizen quickly moved you so that your belly would land on his lap. Somehow, you are now laying over his legs, like a bad kid that needs to be spanked.

“I must reprimand your actions, or else, you will never learn to respect me or my orders” he hums, sliding his hand under your ruffled skirt. His palm lands right on one of your ass cheeks, caressing it ever so softly, even like a soft tickle, in circle motions.

Your whole body tenses, your toes curl and your hands grip tightly to his fine fabric pants. You know exactly what he is about to do, and how much this will hurt… and you can’t wait for it.

“Sh… relax…” he whispers, passing his free hand through your nape and hair. Aizen grabs some strands, tangling them around his long fingers, pulling then your head back to look at him from underneath.

The sharp angle of his mandible, the tensed muscles of his neck, the chocolate tuft of hair caressing his perfect nose… everything, absolutely everything of his façade is deadly beautiful. However, what you might like the most about him, it is how brutal and yet calm he can be when dominating your whole being.

The circles on your buttocks suddenly stops, as his hand lifts from your flesh and immediately after -with painful intent- slaps it.

You curl your back, shutting your eyelids close with painful grimace and a loud whimper coming out your mouth. Your nails carve on his leg, pulling after from his pants.

“Look” -spank- “at” -spank- “me” – spank- “when I’m disciplining you”

what a cruel man, wanting to see the eyes of his own victim…

You open your eyes, with tears pooling right on the corner of them. Your lips trembling, your skin on fire.

“Ye-yes, Aizen-sama… I’m sorry…” you excuse yourself once again. And another spank comes. “Keep giving me excuses… come on” Your legs, that hang from his lap down, tremble with pain. Your nose, becomes runny from the tears.

“Oh no, no…” he mumbles, smirking as your pain only makes him harder. A hardness you can totally feel against your belly as it gets bigger and erect.

Aizen stops for a moment; your ass feels blessed that he has. But his fingers, this time, preferred to visit a close location of those lands that are your body… your core.

“Would you look at that, completely dampened… even inner legs are sticky… what a hoe you are…” he whispers, as he lets go of your head by giving your scalp a rest with the hair pulling.

Your right cheek lands on his thigh; panting from pain and heat you await for Sosuke’s next movement. And oh girl, you’ve been wanting this…

He rips your dampened lace panties, specifically chosen by himself. Aizen enjoys the shine of your labia covered with lustful nectar in contrast with the burning surface of your ass cheeks.

Without much hesitation, his finger slides inside your folds; he doesn’t really care whether you are ready or not, Aizen only wants to feel the warmth of your neediness around his index.

“Aizen-sama…” you whine “Mhh? You want more than a finger, don’t you? ~

Taglist of amazing babes: @awas-posts @missfuriosa @theneighbourhoodferret @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919 💕🌻 @cyberdazetragedy

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! I just recently discovered your blog and I’m in love with your Spencer fic’s. :)) Could you perchance write one where reader is sick and Spencer takes care of her??

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 792 words

“I’m fine,” you croak. 

“You’re not fine,” says Spencer, stirring honey into your tea. “You let this go too long without resting, and now it’s bad.” 

You inhale, looking like you’re going to disagree, but a coughing fit supersedes you. The force of it bends you over, and Spencer rubs your back, wincing. You sound like you’re hacking up a lung.

“Okay,” you say once you can, still coughing weakly. “You’re right, I’m dying.” 

“You’re not dying either.” A smile tugs at his lips. “You just need to rest. Is anything bothering you, other than your throat?” 

You shake your head. 

Spencer eyes you skeptically, passing over your tea. You’re infamous for this sort of downplaying. You’d been so good at covering up that you were feeling sick that even your FBI profiler boyfriend hadn’t been able to spot it until a couple of days ago, and even then you’d managed to convince him it was mild enough to go to work until he’d heard you coughing in the shower this morning. Spencer still isn’t sure if, when he’d come home today to find you flushed and miserable in the bed, you’d gotten worse or only stopped hiding it. 

 “Really, nothing?” he asks. “You don’t have any other symptoms?” 

You shrug. “Just other normal sick stuff.” 

“Tell me about them. How do you feel?” 

You frown, blowing on your tea. “Hot and dry. I feel like my entire body needs chapstick. And I’m tired, I guess.” 

Spencer frowns. He brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers stoke down your overwarm cheek. “You look terrible,” he says. 

You snort. Your cough latches onto it as an opportunity, and you launch into another fit. “Ow,” you wheeze, putting a hand to your chest. “Thanks, you’re really—really wooing me, Spence.” 

“No, I’m sorry,” he laughs, somewhat nervously. “I just meant that you look so sad, honey. I don’t like seeing you so sick.” 

“Me neither,” you admit. You take a scratchy breath in, deep as you can without it catching. You look like you’re savoring it. 

He feels his eyebrows draw together compassionately. “You should try to sleep.” 

“It’s barely six. I don’t want to sleep.” 

“You don't have to wait until it’s late to go to sleep. It might make you feel better.” 

“I know, I just…I don’t want to.” 

Spencer looks at you for a while, thinking of what to do with you. Your tea is still too hot to drink. He’d bought you cough drops on his way home, but you’d already had so many throughout the day that now you say they’re making your mouth feel sore and raw, and you don’t want to take them if you can help it. Maybe he could have you gargle saltwater…

“You should stay at your place tonight,” you tell him gently. “I don’t want to get you sick.” 

He knew you would say that. He’s practically moved into your apartment, though he keeps his basically as a storage unit at this point. Whereas Spencer has filled his apartment with enough things for one person (one towel hook in the bathroom, one nightstand, only one really good pillow on the bed), your apartment looks like you’ve always assumed you’d eventually share it. The first time Spencer came over, you already had fuzzy socks for guests, enough towels for an army, and two really, really great pillows on the bed. It made him realize that his apartment was really just a place to sleep; yours was a home. He never wants to leave, but certainly not while you’re like this.

“I won’t get sick,” he lies. (He definitely will. He’s already been exposed to you for days already and his immune system has never had his back.) “And anyway, how will I teach you chess from my apartment?” 

You groan. 

“This is really the best time,” Spencer says, going into the living room to grab the chess board you’d let him keep here. “You’ll never have more free time than when you’re sick. And this way, you won’t get bored.” 

“Sure about that?” you ask wryly as he comes back in, but you’re smiling. 

“Unless you want to try to sleep?” 

You look like you’re actually considering it. “When I was little and I got sick, I used to play mad libs.” 

Spencer feels his face screw up. “I don’t really like that game. They never make any sense at the end.” 

“That’s the point,” you laugh. A weak cough follows it. “Anyway, I’m sick. I promise I’ll let you teach me to play chess soon.” 

“You’re sick,” he allows, setting the chess board on the floor. Not that you don’t get what you want the rest of the time anyway.

[nipuni]

Blog time Hello! We are back from our trip! I'd say I'm feeling refreshed but coming back to sweltering dry heat shut down that feeling very quickly. Now we are even more determined to move to the seaside within the year though 🏃‍♀️ It's incredible how much of an effect on your health the weather can have. These days we have been hiking for around 8 hours a day in the mountains and coast without breaking a sweat in 17-22ºc high humidity weather. In contrast, today back home we walked to the store five streets away in a dry 33ºc sun and we felt like throwing up and never leaving the house again lmao and it only gets much worse until september aaaa I can't wait to move out of the city and start a new colder and quieter phase of life where I don't have to dread the coming of summer every year!! But at the same time I've been feeling this trepidation about settling down somewhere permanently, I realized that every 5 years or so I get the itch to move somewhere new and it worries me a bit tbh, I hope it is just my fear of commitment acting up and the fact that we just haven't found the right place yet. And the longer we spend in this place the more we feel like it will be the right one so I'm hopeful!

We have also been watching more of David's filmography! we watched Des, Single Father, Recovery, Bad Samaritan and Deadwater Fell. We enjoyed Recovery, Single father and Deadwater Fell the most, all were really good!! then Des was decent and Bad Samaritan was terrible. But as expected David steals the show every time and you end up sitting through the most ridiculous scripts just to see him give it his all and elevate the whole thing with every scene lmao the sheer range of this man!! let me gush for a second, he goes from the most charming and pitiful train wreck you would kill to protect to the most terrifying monster of a person so effortlessly you can hardly tell it's the same actor. He is so outstandingly good at every role!! Anyway I love watching our little shows of our favourite guy with Nicolas everyday, it has been the highlight of my year 🥰

I've also been meaning to get back into games but I just can't find the right one! I tried the whole cozy farming/survival/sandbox game thing and came to the conclusion that it's not for me, I don't find them engaging enough so it ends up feeling like a time sink 😞 I also thought of going back to FFXIV but the new expansion doesn't sound like something I would really enjoy and while I love RPG I'm finding it hard to commit to 40+ hours of storyline lately, BG3, Cyberpunk 2077 and Disco Elysium have been sitting in my library for ages now and I can't bring myself to play them even tho I want to!! I'm hoping DA4 will get me back into the RPG mood. I've also played Hades II but I'm all out of content until release! Maybe shooters will do the trick, something fast paced I can play for a little bit as a distraction from work. I've been meaning to check how Warframe is doing too, I love it and haven't played in ages, and every time I check it's like a completely different game so that could be fun! but I'm rambling now, if you have any game recommendations let me know! I hope you are all doing well 😊 I'll get back to drawing now and will share some sea pictures later!

[squirting-sub]

Gentle aftercare

The session was heavily s/m and involved constant pain for me without any breaks. It was a lot on my body, including being tied in the same position for way over an hour, a very big butt plug, wax play, impact play, knife play, clothespins, and degrading. On top of that, the play room was too cold to be naked in for this amount of time. Nonetheless, I ended up flying.

We have a deal that if butt plugs are involved, we each want to remove and clean it ourselves. Despite that, she removes the plug from my ass toward the end of the session, knowing I won't be able to do it. She ends the session by making me cum. We're on the floor and while I don't feel the cold yet, she can see I desperately need warmth. She covers me in a blanket and hugs me, telling me I can't stay on the floor and that she'll draw me a hot bath. After I agree, she lifts me up, holding me tight in case my legs give out. She makes me put on slippers, then holds my hand leading the way. On the way down the circular stair case she walks backwards, still holding my hand, to make sure she can catch me if I fall. When we make it to the bathroom she tells me to get in the tub and sit.

At this point I can feel the cold. I sit, wrapping my arms around my legs and start shivering, teeth clattering. My dom makes sure the water is warm before taking the shower head and working her way around my body with it. The warm water slowly makes me stop shivering and once the tub is filled almost halfway I try to stretch my legs to get them submerged. I'm weak and they're shaking, so I use my hands to help. My dom asks me if I'm ok and if there's anything I want or need. I tell her no and while the tub keeps filling up, she adds bath salts. When the tub is almost full she asks me if the temperature is good or if I want it hotter. I say it's alright, but knowing I take my showers extremely hot, she turns the water hotter. Once the tub is full, she asks again if I need anything and then decides I need to drink. A moment later she's back with a bottle of water and makes me drink, checking the amount I drank when I hand the bottle back. We talk and when I lean forward to kiss her she tells me to stay still, gently pushing me back again with her hand on my chest. Instead, she leans over me and kisses me. She sits next to the tub, her hand still on my chest and I decide to hold it while we talk, giving her arm and hand gentle kisses. Eventually she asks if I'll be ok on my own for a moment because she's officially still working (home office). I tell her yes and right on time her phone rings. She leaves the bathroom to take the call. I feel so exhausted and tired, I turn on my side and close my eyes, enjoying the warmth. When the door opens a few minutes later, I look up at my dom. "You're not fainting on me, are you?" "Sleepy.." "Then you have to get out of the tub. I can't have you falling asleep in there." I tell her I want to wash my hair and body. When she asks if I'm strong enough to do it I say sure, but she stays anyway. She helps me up while the water drains from the tub and once I'm standing, I get dizzy, holding onto her. She asks if it's bad, to which I say no. After I manage to shower, washing myself, she hands me a towel for my hair, then wraps me in a big towel. While I dry myself, she gets me a fluffy bathrobe and puts it on me when she returns. She has me lay on the sofa and gets a warm blanket from the bedroom, wrapping me in it. She even tucks it under my feet. I smile and say "great service". She kisses me, "Well, I was really rough with you after all.". I kiss her more, "I wanted that.". She gets me tea, but I'm already half asleep. I hear her moving around the room, staying close by. The whole time, she kept asking me if I'm ok and if there's anything else I need or she can do. She was so gentle and it was a whole 180 from how she was during the session.

[levemetal]

Hi hello, I rushed this and I cannot be arsed to properly render this. I have other things to draw, many of them. But also. I really put too much effort into the flat of this that I kinda burned myself out LMAO

ANYWAY CALAMITY/GHOST KING SHEN JIU DESIGN. Take it, cherish him like I would. I wanted to dress him up like the pretty princess he is <3 Plus, ghost kings a la tgcf gotta slay in all categories so here we go. I'll ramble more about the more coherent thoughts I have but you can tear ghost king SJ from my cold dead hands. ٩( ᐛ )و

His motivations more becoming a ghost king/calamity are fairly straightforward if you're familiar with Shen Jiu and all the funky workings of his mind. It is to be stronger than everybody else and attaining a place that cannot be taken from him cause he has the power for it. So that no one else can have any power over him either.

However this also means that he does not necessarily have any grand plans of what to do with that power. I imagine he'd be a recluse, living off and alone somewhere hardly getting involved in the affairs of the living and gods etc.

If he does, I imagine it might more be in the style of killing slavers and otherwise bad men. Maybe a sort of brothel workers protector, getting rid of the most problematic and horrible clients? Let your imagination wander!

For a title? I have no clue man, I am not good enough at words for this. Something with green or teal as the color and leaves. That's how far I got.

Now the juicy stuff, POWERS. Leaves. Leaves and fans is the tldr version. I imagine he'd use the qi-infused leaves as in canon, just far more deadlier (probably) and conjured rather than just reliant on leaves off trees in the vicinity. For a weapon, if available (read: SY is not possessing SJ's OG body, or Xiu Ya was not obtained) I think he should get to keep Xiu Ya, or otherwise a blood weapon shaped after it. Tho if I had to give him a blood weapon a la Hua Cheng's E'ming, it would be a fan. The blades on it would likely be shift on, both an edge to cut with and places for darts to fly out. Otherwise in terms of weapons I could see daggers very well too for SJ. They'd suit him, as he could get in and get a quick stab or just throw them from afar. With his fighting style that likely has a lot of the ruthless tactics of his youth incorporated, I think it would fit just like a battle fan.

Otherwise, I do see him being a capable shapeshifter, or some sort of abilities to stay in the shadows undetected. If he needs some sort of animal or communication/surveillance skill associated with him, I personally would pick ravens. Spiritually created ravens as a sort of spying network and surveillance method.

Another juicy detail could be cultivation method. Tgcf does mention that the ghosts still have their own form of cultivating their power. For example, He Xuan eats and absorbs the abilities of other ghosts, whereas Hua Cheng is mentioned to cultivate via slaughtering. The xianxia in tgcf is rather vague now that I have a few more danmei under my belt, and specifically Devil Venerable also wants to know has given me a looot of thoughts about some interesting ways to detail this if it is so desired for a setting. Do please keep in mind tho I haven't really researched cultivation and the wuxia/xianxia 101 worldbuilding yet so this may not make sense. Anywho:

For Shen Jiu in particular I'd find it interesting to give him his own form rather than just copying either Hua Cheng (most fitting imo) or He Xuan (bonus eating disorder included, hooray!). So here are some ideas I had in no particular order:

- Take the core melting aspect from mdzs and applying it to ghosts (sorta): dissolving and absorbing the cores/qi of cultivators and ghosts alike, thus claiming the power for his own.

- Blood. Think less vampire and more slaughter. The messier the kill essentially, bleed the victims dry and absorb the blood to transform it into qi. (Thank you returning Dragon Age brainrot)

- dvawtk's Path of Slaughter. It doesn't really fit SJ as it relies on constantly finding stronger opponents to fight and challenge, especially ones stronger than oneself and persevering against the odds. Not his personal choice but it would poetically fit him and his entire life pretty well.

That's all for now. If you made it till here.... have a gold star: ⭐️

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 8

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Almost to the holiday.

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

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

“Well,” Ransom stops in the doorway as you stand on the tile, Ernie at your heels, “grab a bowl for the damn dog.”

You look at him but say nothing. Ernie isn’t mean without reason so you hardly feel bad for him. He must’ve done something really bad to make the giant sweetheart into such a beast.

You go to the counter and reach to the cupboard. He doesn’t offer any direction as you find only glasses and mugs inside. You move to the next; dry goods and cans. You shift back the other way and pop open another door; there’s a stack of bowls inside. A bit small but it’ll have to do.

As you clasp the edge of the bowl, you feel a sudden presence behind you. Before you can react, Ransom is against you, his arms hooking under yours as he cups your tits in his hands. He rocks with you as Ernie snarls.

“Get the dog to shut up,” he squeezes. “Or I’ll feed it bleach.”

You call Ernie’s name. He gives one last rumble but quiets. You set the bowl on the counter as Ransom leans into you, nuzzling your head as he fondles you. You hope he can’t feel your heart pounding.

“Mmm, they feel just as nice as they look. Why don’t you slip that sweater off so I can get a taste,” he pushes you against the counter, “you give that fuzzy-lipped bastard the good stuff–”

“Goddamnit,” Andy’s hiss cuts through the tension. Ransom sighs onto your hair, giving a tweak through the wool before reluctantly parting, “keep your hands to yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” Ransom spins and stomps his foot, ���what are we even waiting for? We do all this–” He gestures with his hand, “and you’re bossing me around like a child.”

“You are,” Andy accuses as he approaches and puts down the bag of kibble on the counter, “I salvaged what I can,” he says to you directly.

“Um, thank you,” you swallow. He smiles before he faces the other man again, “we haven’t even opened our presents.”

Ransom narrows his eyes as his cheek ticks. He arches a brow and shrugs, “fine. So why don’t we get it over with?”

“Breakfast first,” Andy insists. “It’s tradition.”

“Who’s fucking tradition?”

“They have to start somewhere, don’t they?” Andy challenges. 

You frown. Tradition. You really hope you don’t have time to build any of those.

“Honey, you stay, help me with breakfast,” Andy turns his back on Ransom, “the other two can get the table ready…” he pauses and looks over his shoulder, “you can handle that, can’t you?”

Ransom’s nostrils flare and he bares his teeth. He kind of reminds you of Ernie when he does that. The dog tilts his head curiously as he watches the scene, ignorant of the words but sensing the vibes.

“You’d be surprised what I’m capable of,” Ransom growls. “Have fun playing fucking house.”

He storms off, his shoulder hitting the door frame in his anger and drawing a grunt from him. You flinch and bring your hands up to wring. Andy tuts and faces the counter, glancing over at you.

“Are you alright, honey?” He asks, letting his hand fingers flutter to the edge of your cuff.

“Yeah,” you answer smally. That’s what he wants. For you to be helpless, to need him. And you do, just not the way he intends. “He… he isn’t nice like you.”

The corners of his lips curve just a little as his eyes search you, “you think so?”

You nod and slide the bowl off the counter, “I’m going to feed Ernie.”

“Alright,” he relents and takes a step back, “uh, yeah, he’s probably starving.”

You move around Andy and dip the bowl into the bag of kibble. He clears his throat and goes to work, pulling down ingredients. Nothing fancy. He sets a box of pancake batter as he pulls the waffle maker away from the wall. Your stomach growls loudly and Andy grins in your direction.

“You too, huh?”

You smile over the bowl of kibble in your hands, “a little, yeah.” You turn to Ernie as he sniffs the air and drools. You go to him and bend your knees to put the bowl on the floor. You know he’s watching. Good, he’s just as simple as the others.

🎀

You’re the only one who seems interested in the meal. Only because it gives you something to focus on to keep your imagination from straying too far. Of course, you’re not as stupid as these men think. You know all too well their intent. Yet there efforts continue to confound you.

You offer to clean up. Another excuse to keep yourself busy. Away from them. Andy insists that he does that task and sends you off the other two to the front room. You’re less than eager to walk between them as they get closer and closer, nearly squishing you as you reach your destination.

You flit away from them and claim a spot in the lone armchair. Ernie follows and sits at your feet. He keeps his head up, panting as he watches the men and you avoid looking at them altogether. Lloyd strolls along the mantle and sucks his teeth as Ransom sits on the extension of the sectional.

“Fucking lame…” Lloyd mutters.

“Tell me about it,” Ransom agrees, the clink of dishes sounding from the kitchen.

You hate to admit it so you won’t, but they’re right. 

Your eyes drift along and settle on the tree. There are a slew of wrapped gifts underneath. They weren’t there the day before.

The awkward silence doesn’t last long as Andy emerges. He looks around, tucking his hands in his pockets as he takes in the room. He’s not in his typical suit. You didn’t take time to notice before but he looks cozy. He wears a blue sweater and a pair of jeans a shade darker. It makes him look softer than usual.

You check the other men. They’re not very festive. They wear what you can only assume is their usual look. Lloyd in a tight black tee which does little to conceal the buds of his nipples. Your gaze wants to fixate there but you resist that odd temptation. He’s paired the dark top with a pair of pine striped ankle pants and velvet loafers. You call it douche formal. The customers who dress like that usually don’t even understand how to check the website.

Then Ransom. Not too dissimilar to Andy but still himself. An ivory sweater with brown pants, a locket peeking out below his collar from the slim gold chain around his neck. It screams rich prick trying too hard to look like he’s not trying.

The one thing these men have in common is their ignorance. They don’t know, they never considered that you can read them. You spent years in retail, you know people. A little more than you like. They took your demeanour as innocent and naive, they don’t consider it as defensive.

“Alright, finally, let’s open some presents,” Andy claps his hands together.

“Before we start,” Lloyd leans beside the mantle, “I have a question?”

Andy looks at him, waiting.

“Shouldn't you be doing this with your family–”

“Shut the fuck up,” Andy snaps but stops himself, showing his palm, “that’s not for you to worry about.”

“I’m looking out for you–”

“I know what you’re doing,” Andy points at him.

Lloyd snickers.

“I’d like to make a suggestion,” Ransom stands, Ernie tense as he does. They look at each other. “Can we put the dog away?

All three men look at Ernie. You look back at them as you reach to pet the dog’s broad head.

“He’s not hurting anyone,” you plead.

“Not yet,” Ransom scoffs.

“Look, pussy cat, you’re lucky that thing’s even here.”

You want to scowl and bite back. They knew you had a dog when they took you. You mentioned him several times. It’s not exactly your fault they didn’t factor him into the equation.

“We don’t want him to get worked up,” Andy assuages, “why don’t you take him to your room for now? We wouldn’t want him to ruin any of your gifts.”

“He won’t,” you argue, not quick enough to stop yourself. “He’s trained.

“I know, honey, but just for a little. He can come back out later.”

“Yeah, or I can drive him out to the highway,” Lloyd snorts.

You furrow your brow at him. He snickers as your anger amuses him. You quickly wipe it away. You can’t lose your cool yet. You slowly get up, stepping over Ernie and exposing a bit too much thigh. You call the dog’s name but he doesn’t move. He knows something’s wrong.

You bend and grab his collar, “come on, buddy, please.”

At first he doesn’t budge but relents as you coax him with quiet whispers. He lets you lead him out, dragging his large paws with your less than urgent pace. You get to the open bedroom and look inside.

“Sorry, Ern,” you say as you nudge him ahead, “it’ll be okay, I promise. Mama take care of you.”

He goes into the room and turns to stare back at you with his doe eyes. You want to melt into a puddle. He’s so cute and sweet. He doesn’t deserve all this. If it was just you, you’d fight, but you have to worry about him. 

You shut the door and go back to the living room. The men seem anxious as you enter. Ransom pinches the locket around his neck between his fingers, Andy smooths the front of his sweater with his large hand, and Lloyd digs his heel into the floor as he picks his fingernail.

“Alright,” Andy exhales as he faces you, “so, honey, you start.”

You blink at him and cross your arms. You don’t know what he means. You glance around, between each of them.

“Open a gift,” Andy steps back and gestures to the tree, “they’re all for you.”

Your stomach churns and your heart flips. Something about this is off. Not just that you’ve been abducted or this weird house with locks on the doors and deafening walls. More than these men and their incessant leers. There’s more than a dozen presents, for you alone, but why?

“Me?” You pull your arms apart and force them down to your sides, clutching the weave of the sweater dress.

“Go on,” Lloyd encourages with a wink.

You restrain yourself as best you can. Fear courses through you as you try to unravel their riddle. What are they up to? They’re watching you like wolves, prowling, ready to pounce, so why don’t they?

You tiptoe forward and as you near Andy, he stays exactly where he is. You brush against him and feel his breath fan over you. You pass Ransom as he once more sits on the foot of the sectional. 

You stop before the tree and consider the array of gifts; boxes, bags, and wrapped bundles. It’s the sort of haul any child dreams of. You remember the Christmas Eves you lay awake sleepless hoping for just this. Waking to only a new pair of socks and a couple toiletries from the group home. You didn’t often get what you wanted, but you could get by with what you needed.

You bend your knees, the hem of the sweater rising up your thighs as you reach for a small box. You stand and turn to the men, staring down at the red box with a gold bow on top. You gulp and peek up at them. They all just watch. 

You wiggle the lid until it pops off. You reveal a pair of dangling pearl earrings. They’re pretty. Probably real but you don’t have the eye to tell. You peer up again, confused. It’s actually a very nice gift.

“Who’s it from?” Andy asks.

You flinch and check the tag. You should’ve done that first. You pull it straight as it hides under the tail of the bow, “Ransom,” you read.

“Ha!” He claps his hands, together then on his knees, “fuck yeah.”

“Huh?” You utter dumbly.

“Shit,” Lloyd mutters and Andy lets his disappointment flow out heavily.

“What…” you can’t finish the question.

“Pretty nice gift, huh?” Ransom taunts, “so, uh, what’s my gift, sweetheart?”

You grimace and examine the wall behind him, “I don’t… have anything…”

“Actually,” he interjects, “I think you do. Why don’t you pop those on, then pop your tits out?”

You gape at him. He bites his lip as you stand dumbfounded and humiliated. Lloyd chuckles and Andy growls as he paces, sitting in the armchair.

“I don’t…”

“It’s an exchange, not free for all, you got yours. I get mine,” he tilts his head, “so put those on and let me fuck your tits.”

You close your mouth. You’re not surprised but you’re not ready either. You didn’t expect them to hold out forever but you need more time. The problem is they’re not playing by your schedule, you have to adjust to yours. That means, you’ll be working from behind.

“I’m waiting,” Ransom huffs, “you know, you’re being pretty ungrateful there, sweetheart.”

Andy plants his elbow on the armrest as you look at him, “do it.”

“But…” you pout, “you said…”

“He gave you a gift,” Andy said. “He won’t hurt you. I’m here.”

You nearly drop the box. What does he mean he won’t hurt you? You don’t want to do that.

Well…

You don’t have a choice. As rotten as it is, it will only be worse if you refuse. You lower your chin and nod. You turn to set the box down on the small table just beside the couch, too close to Ransom. He snickers as you hear his zipper whisper down. Oh god.

You pull out your plain gold hoops and replace them with the teardrop pearls. You feel them dangle between your fingertips and raise your head. Worse than what you’re about to do is the audience. This isn’t just you being violated, this is that violation being witnessed.

You walk along the sectional and Ransom catches your wrist, pulling you forward impatiently. He turns you to face him. Your eyes widen as you try not to look lower than you need to. His cock bobs at the edge of your vision.

“Take this off,” he touches the hem of the dress.

You spread your sweaty palms over the wool. Slowly, you tug it upwards. Your skin speckles with goosebumps as you reveal your nakedness to the room. You stand only in the knee highs and panties.

“Damn,” Lloyd clucks, “an ass on this one.”

Andy doesn’t comment, he only hums as the chair creaks under his weight.

“Get down,” he orders.

You hold your breath and obey. You get to your knees as Ransom plays with himself. You can’t look him in the face and you definitely don’t want to look down. You stare instead at his sweater.

“Push your tits together,” he demands.

Again, you listen. It’s like you’re in a trance. The room is fuzzy and your body is hollow. He laughs again and taps his tip against your tits.

“Fuck, those are some nice tits,” he remarks, grabbing your shoulder to urge your closer.

He slips his dick between your cleavage. His throbbing head pokes up above the swell of flesh. He dips down and back up, rocking you by your shoulder as he guides you. You move with him, fighting back the tide of repulsion.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, “come on and give it a kiss, sweetheart.”

You flinch. He squeezes your shoulder. A warning. You bend your head and kiss his tip as it once more pokes above your cleavage. He groans and his hand moves to cover one of yours, making you grope yourself tighter.

“Fuck,” he rasp, “you know what…” he turns to Andy, reminding you of the others, of them watching you, “I think I get it now.” He winks at you as you fuck his length with your tits, “good fucking choice, Barber.��

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

Weasel

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!F!Reader

Summary: A back and forth with the infamous Fred Weasley sends the two nemeses into a back-and-forth that lands them in detention, where both their frustration and anger send them into a deep argument full of insults, tension, and revelations.

Warning: LONG, 8k words, lots of scene cuts becuz a LOT happens, rivals to lovers (not really, Fred's obsessed with reader and is a little shit), boy pulls on the pigtails of the girl he claims he dislike type trope, was forced to give reader at least a last name, same for her best friend ( went with one of the most generic name Tiffany), Fred being a little shit, argument, tension, reader is unhinged

A/N: Fun fact about this fic it almost included a Pygmy Puff before I checked and discovered that they were created by the twins for their shop and since they are still students I had to go and swap it up with a baby puffskein. No idea how to describe that fic, there will definitely be multiple parts, enjoy!

There are no other places like Hogwarts.

The scenery, the castle's secrets, and the yearly competition between houses are something to behold.

But what might be icing on the cake is the library. The place where I can lose track of time all the while learning about the magical world.

The library has a hush rule but you can't help the coughs, the few ink pots falling to the ground, or even the giggles here and there but it doesn't bother me one bit, it even helps me focus as I enjoy yet one more day in the castle.

"Hi there Raven."

And there goes my enjoyment.

With a roll of my eye, I direct them toward the annoying voice belonging to none other than Fred Weasley who stands there with his satchel on his side leaning against one of the book-filled shelves.

"Weasel," I acknowledge him with a sigh looking back down at my page.

"Weasley," he corrects drily.

I brush him off as I finish my inked sentence and wait for it to dry before turning the page and asking him what he's doing here.

He leans on the table by his hip and crosses his arms inclining his head towards me, "What is it to you?"

"You being here is a bad omen so either you're here to sell your stupid stuff to the first years," I say glancing at his sachel for a second before looking back down at my work, "Or it involves annoying me and I'm having a good day to waste it dealing with you today."

I don't look at him and instead focus on my next sentence when I hear some shuffling and a piece of rolled-up parchment drops next to me that I recognize all too well.

"You must be kidding me," I groan snatching the parchment from the table.

"Unfortunately no. McGonagall benched me and said that if I wanted to stay on the quidditch team I needed a tutor."

His speech makes me groan as the lines reiterate his rant in a distinguished manner and is signed at the bottom by Professor Flitwick.

"McGonagall sent me to Flitwick who recommended you. Said you needed tutoring on your record."

I let go of the paper and join my hands together placing my thumbs on the base of my nose to try and diminish the incoming headache.

"Soo," he draws out attracting my gaze, "See you later, I'll be waiting for your owl."

I see him walking backward, all cocky as he dares to wink at me before turning around and descending the spiral stairs.

I audibly scoff and slam my notebook closed.

Yet another day ruined by that damn Weasel.

"He's a pest."

"You're exaggerating again," she laughs at me standing up from her seat.

"No, I'm not!" I say shoving the last book in my bag as class just ended, "He's obnoxious and annoying and a nuisance to my peace," I stand up and follow right after her.

It's been a few days since my unfortunate meeting with the least likable Weasley in the library and the meeting with Professor Flitwick and McGonagall this early morning couldn't have gotten any worse since no amount of pleading on my part could get them not to assign me with him. As a supplement I had the redhead walk in on me pleading which had him reveling at my misery digging me into a deeper foul mood.

"He's a funny guy that sometimes goes too far," she says pushing a chair that wasn't tucked under its assigned table.

"He's the bane of my existence," I say full of venom.

She laughs walking toward the classroom's exit," That's romantic."

"No, saying someone is the bane of your existence isn't romantic."

"I'm sure you could turn it into something romantic, like a poem or a book about forbidden love," she daydream walking through the door.

"You read too many romance books," I say stepping outside the classroom when I freeze and feel like I'm going underwater as my body is iced out for a moment.

It feels as if I've been hit with glacius but I'm able to use my voice and squeal in shock as the feeling subsides and I'm brought back from my shock by two giggles.

I see two first-year Gryffindors laughing nervously before they simultaneously decide to run away, one of them letting loose on her wand that was levitating the bucket letting it fall on the ground with a loud clash.

I'm left in the middle of the open hallway surrounded by classmates who just exited their class.

The wind hits me and I feel my body shiver before I look up at my friend whose mouth is covered by her hands in surprise.

I hear it.

The annoying infuriating sound of distant laughter, one I cannot mistake for another.

My eyes zero on him sitting on the transfiguration courtyard's tree clutching his stomach as he laughs balancing himself on the branch.

"You were saying?" I ask her rhetorically still dripping in the pink-colored jelly-like liquid.

She lowers her hands and approaches me slowly trying to wipe my face.

I feel the bubbling of rage making its way up my throat with my breathing taking up seeing him seated up there on the branch looking like a king sitting upon the throne of his buffoonery surrounded by his brainless friends, or rather, George's brainless friends and it makes me snap.

I push her hand away and stomp my way through the hallway onto the courtyard's grass toward him.

"Weasley!" I yell as I march to him.

"Oh, now she remembers my name," he laughs out loud for his twin and his friends to hear as the number of students stopping by increases.

He slides off the branch with ease and starts strutting to me with this damn cocky smile.

George stands up from his leaning stance on the tree, "Fred," he says.

I don't know if it's a warning or a scolding but his intent doesn't matter to me.

My hearing is replaced with the beats of my heart drumming in my ears as my face feels as hot as lava.

My steps get bigger and bigger and the closer his infuriating smirk approaches, the rage escapes me as my hand swings back and closes into a fist before landing in his face mid-step.

The audible hit is met with a groan and while I'm far too small to send him to the ground with a punch it does send him swaying back and hunching over.

In a second George jogs to his twin and hands him support grabbing his elbow as Fred's groan turns into another one of his annoying chuckles.

"You see how she hit me?!" he shouts looking delighted by the situation before he lays his gaze back on me with a bit of blood on his teeth.

His smirk falls and I believe for a moment that I finally did it, I finally managed to instate fear in this jackass before I realize his gaze moved from my frame to someone behind me.

The buzzing in my ears ceases and my hearing comes back to me as the grass crunches under one's weight indicating someone approaching.

A cold sweat travels through my body when I turn around and spot none other than Professor Hooch standing tall in front of us.

By instinct, I take a step back and bump into Fred before jumping aside as if he burnt me which isn't far off as my knuckles are calling out for help burning and tingling from the impact it had on his cheek.

She sends us both one of her infamous hawk looks that could petrify Dumbledor himself, "I presume that display of violence can be explained by your appearance?" her pointed look is directed at me.

I try to wipe the substance off my hair with an annoyed huff.

Her eyes travel to Fred whose head is pointed down grabbing his chin and messing with his mouth moving his jaw from side to side.

"That rewards the both of you with an hour's detention," that answer makes him groan and I point at him with outrage.

"But he-!" My disbelief doesn't reach her before she cuts me off.

"You're both dismissed. Mr.Weasley, I advise you to escort your brother to the infirmary to tend to his injury. As for you, I advise you to go clean yourself up before heading to the infirmary as well, perhaps at a time Mr.Weasley won't be there," she finishes her sentence looking at George who acknowledges her insinuation with a nod.

Still clutching his jaw, Fred is led away by his elbow by George as Hooch walks to stand in front of me, "While I understand your frustration I did expect better from you than violence."

My eyes widen and the breath I take in is cut off, "He-"

"This isn't about Mr.Weasley's childish behavior, he will receive his punishment either way. What disappoints me is that you could've avoided any punishment by reporting this to me or any other professor in the area but instead, you will ecope of an hour's detention as well."

She says shaking her head as she walks away leaving me standing here in the courtyard covered in the substance and an aching fist that doesn't even feel satisfying knowing it didn't teach the jerk anything.

"Why is it so windy today?! I thought it was supposed to be sunny!" I complain trying to be louder than the wind.

"No it's supposed to switch all day, look," my friend says motioning to the daily prophet in her hands bringing the paper closer to my face so I can see the weather section indeed announcing an insufferable change of weather all day.

"You can still spot the puddles from the rain earlier," Luna Lovegood points to the Quidditch pitch where the grass is still two shades darker and the random puddles of water stir with strength from the wind blowing.

My venting is interrupted by a loud collision that sends me twisting around back to the pitch to see Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teammates fighting over the quaffle like rabid dogs in what is supposed to be an amicable match as a form of training.

"Remind me again what's the point of an amicable match if there is no amicability?" I ask turning to face them just to miss the apparent goal from a Gryffindor through one of the Ravenclaw's lowest hoops.

I groan when I recognize the face of the person who managed to pass our defenses as he basks in the small victory.

"What is it raven?! Can't take in the sigh of greatness?!" he gloats seated comfortably on his broom with his red hair all tussled.

His pretentiousness blinds him and his arrogance leaves him to ignore the whistle suggesting the match continues and leaves a fellow Ravenclaw to score in a flash right behind him. The only indicator that anything happened at all is the small thunder of applause and shouts of approval coming from the small gathering of students who decided to kill time and participate in the amicable match to cheer each team on.

His head whips around and the sight of the opposite team scoring sends him tilting his head back with a groan that he tries to conceal but it doesn't escape anyone's notice.

The karma is enough but it is so rare to catch the weasel in one of his life life-learning moments that I don't hesitate before deciding that I need to add my little grain of salt to the wound.

I have it, I have the perfect response to give him right on the tip of my tongue and I wonder for a second if the smirk grazing my lips isn't a giveaway but my witty taunt is stopped when a broom enters my line of vision.

"See?! I told you your presence would do me good. Look at that, bullseye!"

I'm sure he means no harm, I know him to be humble but the poor lad either didn't see Weasley or simply decided to ignore his presence.

The fact that he is being ignored after being wrecked is sickly satisfying and my smirk manages to widen somehow.

It is clear he simply didn't see Fred as this one's scowl sends him silently flying away in an awkward, one-sided staredown that ends with him glancing at me with an uncomfortable wide-eyed stare, silently asking for help.

I stare at him flying further and further away and only look back when I notice George approaching his twin on his broom.

His frustration is clear and the eye roll along with his head thrown back pleases me a great deal.

The devilish idea is too good and it doesn't take a lot of self-convincing before I fall for temptation.

"What is it Weasel, too busy drowning in your own ego you can't pay attention?!" I shout so my sickly honeyed voice reaches him and George as I tuck my now pastel pink hair behind my ears.

'The concoction should last less than a week. This Flemont Potter was a genius!' nurse Pomfrey said.

The scowl adorning his face fills me with warmth and electricity buzzes through my veins knowing I have the last word for once.

"Nice hair," he tries himself at a desperate dig that does not work as Professor Hooch whistles for him to fly back to the match.

Turning his back to me, he flies back to the center of the field I can't help but laugh realizing that it's the first time he turns his back to me without walking away with the last word.

The whistle is blown and the speed at which each team goes at the other's throat could cause whiplash if one wasn't used to it.

I'm focused on a group of players when my peripheral vision drags my eyes to my friend throwing the quaffle with all his strength leaving another small group of three players to speed away.

Taking a moment to take in his throw he looks back down and waves at me with a smile, satisfied with his play.

I wave back with a grin of my own before he disappears out of my sight as a bludger hits him straight in the back of the head with a resounding thunk throwing him off his broom and crashing to the ground.

I hear a loud yell and realize it comes from me as my body instinctively reacts and bolts toward the pitch.

Professor Hooch is already by his side by the time I run to his limp self.

"Is he okay?!" I get caught off guard by my friend reaching him and kneeling at his side before I do.

I stand there looking down at him in shock as people start surrounding the area trying to take a look at the wounded on the ground when I notice the Gryffindor team lowering themselves on the ground including the culprit.

His quidditch robe swings with each one of his steps as he walks towards the commotion very slowly like in a trance.

"You too bring a stretcher," she says shooing away both a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw player.

I hear George Weasley calling after his brother who has now reached Professor Hooch kneeling on the ground

"Is he okay?"

How dare he. His filthy meek voice asking about his well-being as if he isn't the reason my friend is lying unresponsive on the ground.

That familiar boiling sensation in my chest rises again and I feel my fists clenching by themselves.

Before I can comprehend my thought process I am bolting toward him. Still, before I can reach him George jumps in front of him getting ready for whatever, a whatever that does not come as I am held up by the waist by two Gryffindor players sensing the hostility.

"What is wrong with you!" I holler up in the air struggling with all my might against the hold of the chasers which is useless against the player's strength.

The rest is a blur, George pushes the douche towards the locker room as I follow the stretcher closely to the infirmary.

"If you stare any harder you're gonna be the first third year student here to achieve wandless magic," she chuckles "It's you! You did this!" he yells shoving me back and sending me stumbling on the ground probably trying to get me as dirty as he is. back down at her textbook.

"False," I utter not leaving the weasel out of my burning stare.

I notice her raising her head from my side view in wonder.

"Granger," I state chewing on my thumb's fingernail.

The sight of him simply sitting there without any consequences under the excuse of 'it's part of the game, nobody can prove there were any malicious intents behind that strike' drives me mad and haunts my head with multiple scenarios of murder that keep replaying again and again.

"You have to let it go. Pomfresh said he'll be fine."

"He didn't deserve that strike it was targeted to piss me off because I got the last word," I say wincing when I realize I bit my thumb a bit too hard and drew some blood.

"It's part of Quidditch, many, many people took strikes to the head."

"Bullshit. A strike to the head during an amicable match? Come on," I roll my eyes frustrated that everybody seems so eager to just brush this incident off.

"I'm gonna start thinking you're checking him out and not actually glaring at him."

"Have you lost your mind?!" I say louder than intended, my head whipping left to glare at her this time.

There is no silence as the Care for the Magical Creature class takes place outside and the lack of chatter is covered up by the sound of wind rustling the nearest tree's leaves and the distant purrs and grumbles of the different creatures in their pen.

"Is there a problem?"

Unlike McGonagall or Snape, Professor Hagrid's tone of voice isn't accusatory but genuinely one of concern. This concern eats at me as the idea that he might believe even for a moment that my words are targeted towards him makes bile rise in my throat.

"No!" is my immediate response to reassure the professor but the rest of my explanation seems to be stuck in my throat as I have a hard time imagining myself explaining to the class that I was just defending myself at the mention of me hypothetically checking Weasley out.

That same person here in the open classroom with a side smirk plastered on his annoying face trying his best not to laugh at me, not because it would be rude but because not laughing at the right time alongside the rest of the class wouldn't be as satisfying as a full-on public humiliation.

I see Hagrid lowering his chalk and I can already foresight him asking what he might have done wrong which is not something you want to ask as a teacher in front of a bunch of ruthless teenagers.

His other hand joins in on the other starting to mess with his chalk making him appear anxious and way less mighty.

The awkwardness doesn't begin to measure to the remorse of having put him in this situation because of my impulsive nature.

"It's my fault!" my friend shouts in my defense.

Looking at her, Tiffany managed to snatch up a baby puffskein and hold it up to Hagrid's sight.

"I put him in her hair and she was afraid he would do a pooh."

The laughs are inevitable but I'm certain the 'do a pooh' will haunt my nightmare.

The mocking is a harmony of taunting and I can only look beside me to glare at her sitting there with the puffskein in hand as I wish he would just 'do a pooh' in her hands this instant.

At least Professor Hagrid seems reassured, smiles as the misunderstanding is cleared up, and turns back around to continue the lesson.

We're sent to different enclosures containing different creatures and are instructed to feed them to create a bond.

"Look at him acting casual as if he didn't send someone to the infirmary with a trauma to the head," I say full of venom seeing him being buddy-buddy with another Gryffindor girl as they try to feed Mooncalf in the open and have a laugh as they are surrounded by the eager herd starving for pets and seeds.

"Will you quit it and enjoy one of the only course that's relaxing here," she scolds kneeling closer to the ground to feed a diricawl who nibs at her finger affectionately before walking past her hand and pitter-pattering to her to lay his head on her chest to receive pats on his head.

"Plus you've already been told we can't know if the blow was on purpose."

"That's a load of bullshit and you know it, he's one of the best beaters here," I say with a pointed look at her throwing a violent handful of seeds towards the rest of the diricawls.

"Did I just hear you compliment Fred Weasley?" she says looking up at me with a teasing smile.

"It's not a compliment I'm just stating a fact, the probability of Weasley hitting someone right on the head by accident at such distance is close to none," I say throwing another handful as my eyes catch a paddock with dubogs in it, one in particular who is devouring the weasel with his bulgy eyes.

There are three dubogs in the small paddock and two of them are cooling off in the dirty pond uninterested in anything else but sunbathing with only their eyes above the murky water blinking one at a time as the third one is eating up Weasley with his eyes.

A devilish idea makes its way into my head. The opening I get is served to me on a gold platter as Tiffany is distracted by the herd of diricawl overtaking her landing her on the ground, surrounded.

My chance is heightened by Weasley's back turned to me talking with his little girlfriend.

I take my chance disregarding any rational thought invading my head. Sneakily climbing over the fence, I crouch and walk toward the desired enclosure. The creature doesn't seem to sense me approaching and if he does he doesn't seem to care one bit licking his eye and pawing the ground with his hind leg.

A part of me wishes I could egg him on and ask him if he wants to nibble on the Weasel's ankles but I'd rather not throw my plan out of the window. Instead, I carefully slide my arm to the latch and pull on it slowly to make sure not to make any noise before giving the door a small push to create the crack that seems to be enough to throw the creature out for a jog as he crashes against the paddock's door.

I don't get to see the seconds before the disaster as I have to hurry back and jump over the fence once again, running back to my friend and free her from the diricawl's clutches giving her a hand and raising her back up as the show starts.

The screams that grace my ears aren't from fear but more from shock as the tall redhead lands on the ground when I finally get to lay my eyes on him. The dubog licks him from bottom to top with the creature's natural dirt and slimey skin rubbing off on him as his Gryffindor girlfriend screeches for help calling for Professor Hagrid who runs up to help in a flash.

The man's height isn't only impressive and intimidating but also a great advantage to grab the massive creature off and drag it back to its enclosure where the other two are still sunk in the water, sunbathing and behaving.

Once shut close, Professor Hagrid grips the wooden bars of the enclosure to gather himself before turning around and helping Weasley up with just one hand gripping the back of his blouse. While he seems shaken up by the encounter, he tries to rub off some of the mud on his face but only manages to smear it looking around at the rest of us.

The reactions vary, some are as shocked as he is and others shrug off their worries and are now laughing at his appearance now that they've established that he is healthy and no longer in danger.

I myself giggle knowing that while I can't get him punished for his action back on the pitch, I get to watch him look like a fool and even up the score. My friend does not agree and lets me know by elbowing me in the ribs making me groan mixing laughter and painful grunts.

Laughter that is spotted by the redhead when his head whips to me before his eyes light up.

His eyes shift from eureka to burning hatred. Shrugging off the hand of his friend trying to tidy him up and storms in my direction.

"It's you! You did this!" he yells shoving me back and sending me stumbling on the ground probably trying to get me as dirty as he is. The confrontation is cut short when Hagrid once again showcases his immeasurable strength by yanking the weasel back with a tug on his now mostly white blouse and throwing him behind his eleven-foot frame that stands now right in front of me.

"Enough with the both of you!" his voice booms in the open area.

He takes a step back and I can get a peak at the redhead enough to see him huffing and puffing from being thrown around like a doll.

"This is a classroom, not a pub. Now the both of you will walk all the way up to Professor McGonagall's office and explain exactly why I had to send the both of you to her and she will be the one to give you your punishment!"

I look at him now, hair disheveled and his tie undone covered in dirt and mud and slime. He still looks somewhat decent as he pushes his hair back with a huff.

I must look just as messy with my pink hair having been thrown on the ground and I decide to tug at the end of my own blouse trying to tidy myself up and avoid any more wrinkles on it.

"Miss Granger, please accompany those two, you know what to do if they misbehave."

"She tried to kill me!" Fred yells pointing at me.

"Do you have any proof, Mr.Weasley?"

He seems to hesitate for less than a second before motioning to me with his hand in frustration.

"It's logical thinking, she hates my gut and she's crazy!"

"You jerk-!" I bellow throwing myself in his direction before I'm engulfed in the Professor's arms.

"Enough!" He yells once more letting me go only when I stop fidgeting in his hold.

"There is no way of proving the Miss did anything. This paddock's lock has been faulty for a while and after this incident, I will personally see that it is dealt with."

He says as if he was addressing the whole class who is still standing all around us watching the event unfold.

"As for the both of you, you will do as you're told and let Miss.Granger accompany the both of you back to the castle and receive the punishment the both of you deserve for the waste of both my time and your classmates' time."

The tone is harsh and the decision is final.

"I am very disappointed in the both of you. You're worth so much more than this petty rivalry," the man shakes his head walking away.

Those words seem to have the same result on both of us. We look down a bit ashamed before we are ushered away by Hermione as we start the long and silent journey back to the castle.

We both stand in silence, side by side with yet a respectable distance as the two professors stand in front of us with judgmental stares that don't need any words to transcribe their distaste…or is it disappointment?

We were sent to our respective bathrooms to clean up 'as best as you can' while my request to wash off completely was denied by both teachers and so here I stand with the back of my blouse tainted by dirt as Weasley could barely wash the slimy texture out of his own blouse and barely dry it with what I believe might have been a spell.

And so here he stands looking dirtier than me despite the order to clean up.

"Now that the awful stench has been managed I believe a proper punishment is in order," McGonagall says with her hands joined in front of her.

"I agree, my cauldrons are in dire need of a scrub," Snape says with his usual disinterested tone.

Weasley starts protesting and claims that I should receive a harsher punishment for my so-called actions.

"She tried to kill me!" he protests.

"And as I told you Mr.Weasley there is no way for us to possibly prove this claim as Professor Hagrid did not see any of this unravel."

"Just like no one saw you throw that bulger." I bite under my breath.

"Exactly Miss.Hermlock. And I would suggest you speak with your full chest if you have any objection." Mc.Gonagall drily berates me.

"Snape-Professor Snape," he quickly corrects himself, "said multiple times that in such cases veritaserum should be used, and since she's SO confident saying she didn't do anything she won't mind doing this, won't she," he says towering over my side.

"I've always known you were a moron but I never thought you would outdo yourself in front of teachers," I smirk crossing my arms.

"Mr.Weasley, even with Miss.Hermlock's permission, the usage of such beverage on a student is forbidden. I would've hoped that with a father working for the ministry, you out of all of us would remember that."

My smirk doubles in size which I thought would never be possible.

In the end, my smirk is wiped away when we are both awarded two hours of detention with Snape. And as if it wasn't enough the punishment is cleaning the endless potion class's cauldrons.

We're ordered to go clean up, thoroughly this time and go for lunch before being expected in the dungeons for our detention hours.

We arrive at the same time just as the last student exits the class, we are left standing side by side, or more precisely 3 feet away from each other as we walk in right in front of Snape's office where he is seated with his head down to his paper purposely stalling and letting us stand there in awkward silence.

What must've been minutes feel like hours as I try my best not to side-eye the redhead standing silently beside me.

I wonder if I should've refrained from opening that damn pen when I hear those continuous scraping of pen meant to insult us as the dark-haired teacher ignore our presence.

He finally puts his feather back in its inkwell before he stands resting both his hands on his desk, "I believe I don't have to remind you what you need to do during those two hours of detention."

Neither of us answers and that seems to egg him on to stand straight and walk around his desk to stand right in front of us, his hands placed behind him.

"You two will clean every single cauldron here, I made sure none of my classes cleaned their equipment to make sure the lesson will stick and you won't have to keep me company again on such a fine day," he says bending to my height and looking straight into my eyes for just a moment before moving his sight onto Weasley, "At least one of you will learn."

Standing back up his speech is interrupted by strong stomps getting closer.

Turning around, the three of us look towards the class's entrance as we spot for a single second a figure sliding across the entrance and disappearing with a loud thud that sounds painful.

It is the first time I make eye contact with the weasel since the last time we butted heads and it is to share a sour scrunched-up expression for the victim of the fall who we hear grunting in the hallway before the sound of their footsteps echoes once more and we see the face of the one who rushed here most likely to speak to Snape.

He's bent over leaning on the door out of breath.

"Berkshire, if you're done fooling around you may grace us with an explanation as to why you're disturbing this detention."

Still out of breath, Enzo Berkshire huffs and puffs for a few more seconds before settling down still bent over.

"It's Nott," he exhales deeply before breathing in once more, "He and Wood started a brawl between quidditch teams, Hooch told me to come get you."

Turning back to the teacher, his eye roll is noticeable and his silence is an obvious assessment of the situation as he probably is planning what to do now that he is torn between us two and the alleged brawl.

"Alright, As the head teacher of house Slytherin, I will accompany Berkshire and assist Professor Hooch in this conflict."

He points to us, "As for the two of you. You will stay here and complete your detention without any complaints. If you leave before your time is up, I will know and that will reward you an entire week of detention."

Pointing at Berkshire, Snape walks past us and orders him to lead them away and with a flick of his wand makes it known that it is thanks to that maneuver that he'll know of us potentially leaving the classroom.

"Behave." is all he says before walking right behind a speeding Enzo Berkshire.

I wonder if he was referring to the both of us or maybe just Weasley.

I don't get to ponder on that before my thoughts are drawn elsewhere at the realization that my worst nightmare is unfolding before me, I am now stuck with the most insufferable student here for two hours doing the most aggravating task besides cleaning the house bathrooms.

I only get back to reality when I hear him throw his robe and satchel on a nearby station.

Being left alone with him, the task at hand, and the absence of Snape to muzzle the redhead angers me as I frop my own bag and stomp to one of the sinks filled to the brim with dirty cauldrons.

I don't even get to enjoy a full minute of tense peace as the douchebag starts his usual yapping.

"Can't say I'm surprised he would leave me alone with you, Snape has always hated me and it's no wonder he left me with you considering you tried to kill me," he mouths off as always lifting a cauldron from its stove and piling it on top of another one.

"And yet you're still breathing, what a shame." I roll my eyes as well as my sleeves picking up a scraper.

A moment of silence passes and I pray this is the moment he realizes he needs to shut up so we can endure the rest of this detention in mild peace but alas this is a good idea and everyone knows that Frederick Weasley never had one of those in his life.

"Damn. The sorting hat must've made a mistake, maybe you belong with the other psychopaths in Slytherin." He throws both cauldrons beside the filled sink with a loud clang.

"I'm sorry but I'm not the one cladding the scales." I bite back.

"Oh, she has claws," he draws out loudly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"What is wrong with you?" I ask genuinely turning around to face him.

"No, the question is what is wrong with you," He asks back louder.

"Nothing is wrong with me! You're the one who can't figure out when to stop, you're the one who always goes too far and you're the one who went too far once again, so much so that you ended up sending my friend to the infirmary!" I hurl and see him losing that fire that usually overtakes his pupils showing he enjoys egging on people once they are set off.

"It's the risk when you play Quidditch," he tries and fails to sound firm in his statement making me scoff.

"For Rowena's sake, you're still acting as if you didn't purposely throw that bulger at him!" I say running my hands through my hair in frustration.

"I didn't!" he says even less believable.

Done with his excuses I turn back around to give all my attention back to the dirty cauldrons when he manages to slide between me and the sink making me take a huge step back.

"I didn't mean to throw it that hard."

I stare at him, no, I glare at him feeling the urge to punch him again but I remember that it didn't do anything for me the last time and instead opt to let out my frustration by hollering at him and walking away before I make the mistake of punching him and have a Professor magically appear out of nowhere to give me more detention again.

Even when I think I finally win and have him admit to his wrongs he still finds a way to make excuses for himself.

"What were you expecting?! I'm a beater that's what we do!"

Does he really think I don't know what a bloody beater is?!

Is he trying to make me pass off as an emotional wreck because of my appropriate reaction to such injury during a supposed amicable match?!

Any beater whether amateur or professional could agree that either maliciously or not that throw was unwarranted during training.

"There really is something wrong with you," I walk right in front of him, toe to toe, and spite my statement right in his face pushing him aside to gain back access to the sink.

I start scrubbing as my mind throws all the different reasons I despise the fucker. Irresponsible, unfunny, no compassion.

I'm so lost in my spiteful analysis of him that I don't register that my thoughts aren't my own anymore as I unconsciously start rambling out loud.

"An idiot who doesn't even think before taking people down with him," I grumble scrubbing away.

"Come on now it's not like he's dead," He nips throwing down yet another pile of small cauldrons beside me.

"I'm talking about me!" I yell letting go of my current task and letting the pot fall and clang with another one causing a ruckus in the sink.

"Not only is my friend in the infirmary because of you but I'm also stuck with you trying to teach someone who I learned has never been slacking in muggle history before recently."

His jaw slacks open and his eyes double in size like the breakfast sausages I had this morning.

"Wait a minute. You think I'm doing this on purpose?!"

You do everything on purpose! Your dad works for the ministry, he is a Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office employee dammit! If anyone is an expert at muggle stuff it's your dad!" I say as a matter of fact.

"And tell me exactly what would it bring me to purposely be bad at this subject all of a sudden?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe to annoy me more often than usual." it sounds like a question but I know I'm just clarifying the situation.

"You think I'm gonna waste my days stuck with you in the library acting dumb for fun?" he tries to ask sarcastically.

"And why not? Beside the library part isn't that what you do all day anyways?"

The quick wit seems like it struck him as he scoffs with a broad smile.

"If you want to be a failure for the rest of your life go ahead and be my guest but I'll ask you not to take me down with you."

That same disbelief smile disappears and leaves place for a blank look that doesn't often grace his face.

"Unlike what you think, success doesn't necessarily come from academic prowesses." he tries to bite.

"Obviously not when it comes to you." I mock before turning back around feeling satisfied for getting him not once but twice in a row.

The triumphant silence doesn't last long before he dwells in a monologue that I don't bother listening to. Instead, I tune him out and start scrubbing which helps to cover the annoying sound of his voice.

His speech feels like hours long but is probably just a few minutes tangent as by the time my ears recognize his next sentence I'm only done with the first cauldron.

"-With such a nasty attitude it's no wonder Murphy didn't show up to your date."

The cauldron clashes with another as I let it fall back into the abnormally huge sink before turning my head toward the nuisance of my life.

"How do you know about that?" the voice that comes out of my mouth is one I don't recognize.

He pauses and seems to hesitate.

"Heard Katie talk about it to her friend."

"I never said anything about it to Katie, 'matter of fact I never said anything about this date to anyone ever so there's no way you heard this through gossip."

"He told me." he tries again even less believable than the first time.

"Bullshit." I seeth.

It's bluff, while I believe I might know Murphy it's not to say that he isn't just like any other guy and simply good at hiding his real intentions.

He starts ranting about some story I can tell is made up on the spot and it's like the wheels stopped turning and the lightbulb lights up in my head with such intensity that the next words come out of my mouth in a loud realization that echoes his own.

"You did this, It was you!" I accuse him with a rageful glare.

He steps back and rolls his eyes tilting his head back, "Oh my-you know what?! Yeah, I did. I warned the guy and I did well because he deserved better than to be stuck on a date with a stuck-up cunt like you." he finishes his tirade by sticking his index finger in my enraged face.

"You're fucking evil." I spit it like it's a statement everyone agrees upon watching him turn his back to me walking farther away.

My outburst is so intense that I have to take a shaky breath and keep my tears at bay as my better judgment is thrown out the window and I decide to finally pour all my frustration out.

"You know, you always take some sick pleasure in telling me I'm cold-hearted," the beginning of my speech is shakey but I quickly regain strength in my voice to let out all my poison,"But you can't even own up to your own fucking flaws and the fact that you're nothing but a jackass who use your so-called 'pranks' to harass everyone in school because they know better to be friends with an asshole like you who's only friend is his twin because no one else wants to be around you!"

My rant is over and the only noise filling the space is my heavy breathing. Catching my breath I feel hot and can barely focus on anything other than my heart beating in my ears as I feel my boiling blood travel all through my body as I stare dead into the eyes of the one who brought me to such an extent of anger.

When my heart settles and I can finally hear my breathing slow down I can focus solely on him and realize that his stare is dead.

He's not glaring, he's just looking. All trace of anger is gone and he's left staring at me or rather through me with dead eyes.

I seem to have struck a nerve and for once the guy doesn't have a comeback. Instead, I'm rewarded with the shoulder shove of a six-foot-something figure who passes me to walk to the sink and starts scrubbing away…

What the heck?

The feeling of regret invades me for a moment but is quickly replaced by one of annoyance.

Why should I feel regret? It's not like he ever feels regret for the horrible things he does. He never apologizes to anyone no matter how far he crosses the line.

The regret quickly fades and I instead let the small spot of confidence inside me grow. It's the first time I've ever shut the mouth of the biggest jerk there is, why shouldn't I enjoy it as long as it lasts?

After everything, I'm entitled to this. I'm entitled to twist the knife.

I take a first careful step and then a second, more confident one closer to him and the sink.

"Yeah, I might be a cold-hearted bitch. But you're an arrogant jackass who's not even funny." I say more calmly yet still petty.

"Oh piss off!" he shouts throwing the cauldron back into the sink with a smash that I wonder might have actually shattered or maybe chipped one of them.

I jump aside to avoid another shoulder shove and follow him with my eyesight to spot him grabbing his stuff and realize he is trying to escape this detention to avoid my lash-out.

Figuring out his plan I catch up and run past him to stand in front of the door blocking his way out.

"No! No, You called me what you called me and now I get to call you whatever I want!"

I wonder for a moment why he doesn't push past me, for sure his frame can easily overpower mine but instead of crashing into me to walk out of the potion class he instead turns around and throws both robe and satchel on a station with a shout that almost rivals mine.

"Alright then let's go ahead, get it all out of your system sweetheart." He snarls standing in the middle of the class, his arms expanded before he places them on his hips.

"You!" the bitter tone escapes me in a rough huff as I point at him, "Have done nothing but make my life hell since the day I arrived." I start walking towards him, "And for what? I have NEVER given you any reason to hate me and yet I have been the target of so many of your pranks that I started being known as the damn Weasley's guinea pig!" I throw my finger in his direction before it falls back on my sides as I walk slowly but with conviction towards him.

"There we go!" he says faking being proud probably to egg me on in my rant with a sick smirk bending down to my eye level and crossing his arms probably to toy with me and undermine me as he always does.

"You do nothing at school but be a nuisance and waste everyone's time including mine and it's so sick to think that you can't even let others be successful just because you can't achieve anything on your own, it's pathetic!" I'm getting closer, almost toe to toe with the redhead who doesn't take a step back and stays planted where he stands or rather is bent over.

"Come on let it all out," he snarls.

"But somehow I was still stupid enough to think that this time you would have the decency to at least admit you went too far and apologize for hurting my friend but even then you cannot take responsibility as always," I finish my tirade taking my final step right in front of him as our noses brush.

"Anything else?!" he angrily spits in my face with a scowl.

I breathe in harshly wishing I could punch him or clap back like I did before but realize if my rant hasn't aroused all kinds of empathy it is useless to keep calling him names it won't male a difference.

"Yeah, your attempt to make me look ugly by turning my hair pink completely failed because I still look good unlike you," I say sourly throwing a glance at his mop of hair.

He sneers.

His arms that were crossed in front of him manage to travel up and brush strands of hair behind my ears before his fingers slide down and twirl the locks in his hands toying with them.

When I'm done bathing in the hatred coating his eyes I notice I'm not the only one panting when I feel his breath brush my face.

Why is he panting? I'm the one who just rambled angrily for five minutes.

"Got it all out?" he says calmer this time around.

I look at him and my eyes make the mistake of switching between his eyes and lips just a second to see his doing just the same and analyze my face.

We haven't moved from our spot and I don't know why.

"Yeah, I think so," he whispers his lips brushing over mine with each syllable.

He stands back up, his hands leaving my hair and falling back to his side as he brushes past me leaving me to stand there frozen trying to comprehend the goosebumps littering my body and my hands shaking by my hips.

I manage to turn around and see him grabbing his stuff and making his way to the class entrance once more.

I find my voice, less confident than before but still strong enough to try and stop him.

"What are you doing detention isn't over yet!" I begrudgingly state.

"Then I guess I'll get a week's worth of detention!" he announces walking out with one hand clutching his satchel and the other one throwing his robe over his shoulder.

He's gone, and in the newly found silence, I breathe out through my nose and assess what just happened.

Weasley just mocked me, pissed me off and egged me on, undermined me, and left me in a classroom filled to the brim with cauldrons to clean all by myself after toying with my anger, my hair, and…

My hand bolts into fists and my nails sink into my palms as I conclude what I already know.

I hate him.

[wikipediette]

emotional motion sickness

General g/n headcanons (an analysation of abuse in the relationship); mentions of abuse dynamics in relationships, talks of physical, emotional, and mental abuse, if these topics trigger you please dont read

so I'll start with the idea of being on earth with Jimmy, I'd like to imagine that curly set you two up, hoping that you'd rub off on him

Your first date you meet and you're charmed by him, he's a sarcastic, flirty, handsome man with a sense of humor (albeit a dry sense of humor)

people like Jimmy are VERY charming and can pretend to be a certain person to draw you in. Then slowly up the ante until you feel trapped

He starts off cute, comes a little late to dates, clothes wrinkled, flowers bent. But hes apologetic and you cant help but feel bad for him

As you get deeper into the relationship the faults start to show.

Maybe a year or so in he starts asking about friends. Nothing too dramatic just an occasional "who's that?"

And at first its cute! He's just worried and protective. But it slowly gets more and more controlling.

One of the first things an abuser will do is isolate you to make it hard to leave them. so he asks you to stop talking to a few people, coworkers or group project friends.

if you question it he will get very intense very fast and uestion why your so hesitant to cut them off.

"is there something your not telling me?" He asks, he had both arms caging you down onto your armchair, his body leaned down to look at you closely. "No!" You exclaim sitting up as best you can with him so close, "I just think it's weird you suddenly aren't ok with me and danny talking anymore!" He laughs but it holds no humor if the look on his face is anything to go by "I know you probably didn't notice but he's constantly flirting with you, he obviously wants to fuck you." you begin to mentally look over your conversations in your head, had he? Was there something you missed? Something misinterpreted? "Really?" You ask, doubting if you really should be talking to a man who liked you while in a relationship. "yes! that's why I don't want you talking to him, he's trying to take advantage of you." you sigh before nodding "yeah, sorry I... didn't even realize" "its fine" he says softly holding the back of your head to lead you into a kiss "I just want to keep you safe".

so you bite and agree, you slowly begin to cut less important people out. As you do he'll pavlov you, with each friend you pick off he'll love bomb you. kisses, hugs, gifts, sex, sweet talk, pet names, bragging about you. He'll play into whatever you want as long as you follow his rules.

When it comes to the biggest hitters like family, close circle friends, and best friends he'll wait a few years to cut them out

He'll plant ideas of a us vs them mentality.

they just want to break us apart.

they're jealous of us.

your too good for them.

they don't treat you right.

they're the abusers.

i'm the only one who REALLY loves you

and after so many years with him, despite your ups and downs you cant help but do what he says because you just don't see him as this horrible monster everyone's making him out to be.

you love him and he loves you!

people just don't understand your dynamic,

they don't know him like you do.

when it's bad its bad but when it's good its so damn good.

and his lonely act works well too, besides curly he doesn't really have any friends.

he has acquaintances and coworkers, but friends? no.

if you broke up with him he'd have no one. and you've been together so long it'd be such a jump. going from deep conversations and intense love to asking about a person's favorite color? fuck that.

when he has you were he wants you that's when all hell breaks loose.

you barely go anywhere and if you do he either needs your location the whole time (probably makes you get life360) or has to be with you, hand on hip, glaring at anyone who talks to you.

when you two get invited to parties he'll play nice (after all he is in public) and let you roam.

you'll talk to people you haven't in a bit while he drinks and talks to curly.

and its times like that that makes the worst moments feel worth it.

speaking of the worst moments.....he's a very jealous person, he constantly is worried if you're cheating on him.

he'll argue with you and wont relent till your crying and exhausted.

then once he thinks you've proved yourself he'll scoop you up and let you cry on his shoulder. murmuring that he loves you and he sorry.

he'll open up, say he knows there's something wrong with him, and he's sorry hes like this, that you deserve better and he's trying.

"I'm sorry" Jimmy softly says into your ear. cradling you like a baby in his arms. your arms are around his neck, your eyes burn with drying tears and sleep, your nose is stuffy, your throat is dry from yelling and sobbing for hours. the rocking isn't helping your sleepiness. "I'm sorry, I know there's something wrong with me. Please don't leave me"

trying to leave in these situations is probably the worst thing you could do

now I'm not under the impression that Jimmy would be overly physically abusive given that his character is all about the subtleties of abuse.

BUT! I do believe he'd restrain you, push you, grab you harder than needed, ect. If you tried to leave him while arguing.

He doesn't like you taking control of the situation and it gets him very mad, as a result he'll force you to stay where he wants.

But he doesn't explicitly hit you as that would leave marks

he wouldn't want you to be bruised because that would bring suspicion to the safety of your relationship.

And most of the relationships abuse is kept to a level that could pass as normal to others.

I think having a friend like curly in these moments that always tries to smooth things over without any bridge burning would definitely lead to him unintentionally gaslighting you about it.

side note: ok this is the first time I've really written in this format, made a romantic x reader, AND this is also my first time posting x reader onto Tumblr lol. apologies if this is ooc I never refreshed myself on Jimmy's character simply bc I don't have the time for that lol. this is also based off of my general knowledge of abusive relationships. if anyone wants more plz let me know i really wanted to try writing fanfiction seriously for a while now lmao, bye :)

[farmhandler]

lil prompt: wade gives logan and laura (and himself ofc) an at home spa day bc god knows they could both use it. (optional: with vanessa's help)

“I’m not good at this. Why do you keep making me do it?” Logan asked.

Wade sighed explosively, as though Logan's utter lack of interest in painting Wade's nails was a personal failing.

“Laura needs a role model now more than ever. How will you help paint her nails if you can’t even paint mine?”

"I think I could do a better job with my eyes closed," Laura said. Her eyes were, in fact, closed due to the cooling mask Wade had forced on her first thing when they'd come over. "Why do I have this on?"

"Your eyebags could give mine a run for their money," Wade said.

“She’s fucking eighteen years old," Logan said. "She doesn’t need my help painting her nails. And I'm pretty sure our 'eyebags' are genetic.”

“Then what about me, daddy?” Wade said, fluttering his lashes at Logan. Logan kicked his leg under the table.

Wade wasn't to be deterred. He wiggled his fingers imploringly, waiting, and Logan decided, fuck it, and he tried. Genuinely, really tried to paint Wade's nails, and paint them however he liked.

"Painting outside the lines," Wade said as he watched him make no attempt to try and keep the paint on his nail. "Your technique intrigues me, Peanut."

"Shut it. I've got this," Logan muttered. He finished painstakingly drawing a little star on each nail and then scraped away the paint around Wade's nail afterwards with tissues. He figured cleaning up this way was better than trying to be precise on the first try and failing anyway.

Wade kept a straight face the whole time. Then he lifted his nails and bit his lip, hard.

“Oh my god," he breathed. "What are those?"

"They're stars. The blue background is a night sky." Logan pointed the bottle at him. "You fucking do this shit with this tiny ass little brush. I'm not made for precision."

"You're telling me, sweetie. The edges of my nails are awful. They’re so bad. I love them,” Wade gushed. He smiled at Logan with genuine glee, and Logan felt warm all over in a way he fucking hated, because he'd been feeling it a lot more lately.

Then Wade’s phone rang.

“Can you answer that for me, sweetums? I’m currently very wet and trying to harden up.”

Shaking his head, Logan leaned forward and answered the call without looking. It was Vanessa, letting them know she'd found the LED lamp for the nails Logan had bought not knowing they needed a stupid lamp to work. Why they asked him to do this shit when he obviously didn't know what he was doing, he'd never know.

When she showed up, she also had a bunch of other shit Logan didn't want to have anywhere near him either.

"Sorry I took so long. I had to go to a couple places to find the lamp." Vanessa swept past Logan after tugging him down for a kiss on the cheek by the door and set her bag on the table. "You started without me?"

"Just some nail painting. And giving Laura's eyes a rest."

"My eyes are freezing," she said from the couch.

Logan sat down next to her, because it felt safer to do so. Laura hated this stuff as much as he did. Or at least he assumed she did. He'd never asked.

"You have any idea what all this is?" he asked her, once she lifted the mask from her face. Laura hummed.

"Some of it." She handed him one of the samples Vanessa had dumped from wherever she'd gone. "You should use this."

"Nighttime eye cream?" he read aloud. "And this is supposed to do what?"

Wade was sitting waiting for his nails to dry, so Vanessa walked over and ripped open the packet. She then dabbed the cream under his eyes and rubbed it in. When Logan tried to yank his head away, she grabbed his chin and made him sit tight.

"Come on, put up with it for five seconds," she said. "Trust me, you'll like this one."

The scent wasn't overpowering, which was a plus. Still strong, but that was most things. The cream had a surprisingly soft texture. Once she was done, he wasn't going to admit it felt kind of nice, but he didn't need to. Wade grinned at Logan like a loon.

"You don't have to look so fucking smug about all this," Logan muttered.

"You lost the bet, so I don't even need to pretend," Wade said cheerfully.

"Because you cheated," Logan hissed.

"And I didn't get caught!" Wade clapped his hands together, apparently deeming them dry. "All right, now let's get serious."

About half an hour later, Logan really was regretting letting Wade get away with cheating.

He had an itchy mask on his face, his hair was pinned back by a headband with kitten ears on it, and Wade could not look any more pleased if he tried. Logan had assumed the nails that needed a lamp to cure them were for Laura or Vanessa, but everybody insisted on putting them on him. So he sat there while these sparkly pink nails dried, and the facemask did whatever it was doing on his face.

Logan hated it, but Laura...Laura was laughing. She's been laughing. She thought Wade was funny, but Vanessa and Wade together really set her off. Logan had never seen her laugh so much.

Logan exhaled. Maybe regret wasn't the right word. And maybe he didn't hate it.

"You ready for your mud bath?" Wade asked, sitting down next to him.

"You'd better be joking, bub."

"Only slightly. I do have a hot tub that's been bath bombed with your name on it. And all the supplies I need to work on your feet while you do. Don't worry: I have fully and mentally prepared myself to pick the fungus out of your toes."

"Ew," Laura said to their right. Vanessa was in the middle of pulling her hair back to join the face mask crowd.

I'm not doing that, Logan almost said, and then looked at Laura, and Vanessa.

If he let the night end now, sure, he'd be more comfortable, but...well, he didn't hate all this.

The candles were nice. Wade had picked really subtle scents, and nothing too fruity or overly clean. They reminded Logan of his cabin, the one he hadn't visited in years. After a rain, when the forest surrounding it smelled heavy and sweet in a way he couldn't explain to anyone who didn't get it.

"Yeah, all right," he said. Wade looked surprised.

"You okay?" Wade asked, inexplicably. He scooted closer to Logan and touched his knee. "I really won't force you into it, if it's that bad."

"It's not." Logan touched his hand. Their nails looked completely mismatched, especially his. On his gnarled hands, the pink stood out badly. He lifted them into the light for inspection. "I could use a bath. You coming in with me?"

It was both a tease and a genuine question. Wade laughed, startled, still grinning that shit-eating grin.

"And fondle your toes directly? Absolutely."

Logan thought back to that kiss on his cheek. So he kissed Wade's cheek, and when Wade made a soft sound of surprise, Logan shifted his mouth a few inches over to Wade's.

Now Wade looked stunned. Someone cleared their throat behind them.

"No fondling," Logan said, rising to a stand.

"A little fondling," Wade said, finally recovering enough to speak. He leapt up and followed Logan.

[fckeddiemunson]

Wrestle | Elwood Dalton

Summary: Dalton teaches you how to wrestle on the beach

Note: This isn't exactly how I pictured it in my head and I couldn't get it right - it also took me ages to write because I wasnt happy with it and I still dont think its my best work but please enjoy😊

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, creampie, public sex, unprotected sex, MAYBE ooc Dalton a little

From the day Elwood Dalton showed up in Glass Key, you were intrigued. You had never heard that name before but from the minute he stepped foot in the Road House, rumours begun simmering. Being a bartender meant you were near Dalton at most times when it was a quieter night. You watched him mostly from afar at first. Serving him coffee with only a shy smile shared between the two of you. Billy had told you that he used to be a fighter, one of the best. A local patron had told you he was disgraced from the sport for killing a guy. Another time you heard he was unhinged, really got some few screws loose, especially if you got on his bad side. Sure, he stopped all the bar fights from breaking out, but you couldn’t believe that he was insane.

He had started teaching Billy and the other guys how to fight and wrestle, so when he was gone, the Road House would be alright against fights that needed to be broken up. You had been eagerly watching them from a distance each morning before open, pretending to read but you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

You had asked Billy if he would teach you how to wrestle once Dalton was gone, you were too nervous to ask him yourself. You barely got the chance to talk to him, most nights were busy in the bar, and he was rather occupied with stopping fights. Your stolen glances were no stranger to him, he had often caught you staring, and it made you even more nervous to ask him to teach you to wrestle.

You had your back turned, leaning up against a pole as you dried cutlery. It was a quiet night and you were filling your shift with menial tasks. Dalton had crept up behind you, his breath fanning your ear, “Slow night, huh?”. You jumped, back colliding with his front and dropping the fork you were drying.

“You gave me a fright.” You mumbled, bending down to grab the fork and turning to look at him. He had a silly little smirk on his face, stepping back a little seeing you tense with him so close.

“Sorry honey, just trying to amuse myself. Theres not much else going on right now.”

“There must be more interesting things than scaring me.” You huffed but it turned into a grin when you met his eyes.

“Not really, you’re kind of the only interesting one here.” You blushed; despite knowing he didn’t mean it.

“Nah, you broke someone’s arm your first day. It’s hard to top that.” He shrugged and laughed; his big toothy grin was intoxicating to look at.

“So, you want to learn how to wrestle?” Dalton asked you, now leaning against the same pole as you, his crossed arms brushing against yours.

“Oh. Yeah, I do for self-defense if I needed it. I was just going to get Billy to teach me.” You rubbed your arms sheepishly.

“Yeah, he told me. He thinks it’d be better if I taught you.” You were going to kill Billy. There was no way you’d be able to cope having Dalton teach you how to wrestle.

“Umm, I mean if you’re sure you have the time.” Drawing out the ‘umm’ you felt his eyes piercing into you.

“Of course. Meet me outside my boat tomorrow at dawn. And don’t wear any loose clothing, don’t want anything your opponent can pull on.” You nodded as he walked away, secretly excited.

*

The next morning you stood outside his boat, waiting. It was quiet, only the soft sound of the waves sloshing filling the peace. Listening to Daltons advice, you had turned up in a sports bra and tiny little shorts. The door of the boat slammed open, Dalton stood there shirtless, also only in little shorts. Trying to tear your eyes away from his bare chest proved difficult and you could feel his eyes watching yours. A blush formed on your cheeks as you waved a hello to him.

“Alright so I’m going to basically tackle you first and show you where to put your hands and then you’re going to attempt to wrestle me down.” You nodded, feeling your breath catch in your throat with him coming so close.

“The easiest way to get somebody to the ground is a leg takedown. You basically grab onto one leg and throw yourself to the ground.” Dalton knelt down beside you, patting your thigh.

“I’ll do it real slow ok, honey?” You breathed out a sigh as Dalton stood up and took a step back.

“Ok so you’re going to dive at me, latch onto my leg, like this.” Daltons strong arms wrapped around your thigh and lurched forward. Your head landed on the sand, a dull throb travelled down your stomach as Dalton landed, half his body on yours, his arms still draped over your thigh.

“Oh well you made that look easy. Billy said you go super hard on him.” You pushed yourself up, readying yourself for another go.

“I can’t go too hard on you sweetheart, you’d break.” Dalton hovered over you, his voice sounding amused.

“Are you and Billy seeing each other?” You perked up at the question, a curious look in his eye.

“No, I’m not, just mates.” You narrowed your eyes up at him, but he shrugged, stepping back to show you another move.

“Okay, I want you to try that move on me.” He chuckled, seeing the look of hesitancy across your face. You readied yourself, crouching down and putting your hands out in front of you. Giving yourself a little runup you grabbed his leg and tackled him to the ground. You landed with a soft ‘oof’, arms like an iron grip on his thigh. He lifted his leg up, your grip faltered, you landed on his abs, leg thrown over the thigh you were gripping.

A playful smirk delighted his lips as you placed your hands on his chest, pushing yourself up, sitting on his thigh. You smiled, excited to have put him on the ground.

“See, you can go rougher with me.” You cheekily retorted to him, sticking out your tongue. Dalton’s eyes rolled, suddenly thrusting his hips upward, in one maneuver, throwing you off and pinning you to the ground, your hands above your head and his leg snug between yours, keeping you in place.

You gasped and struggled in his grasp, his knee nudging the softest parts of your thighs.

“See you’re fucked if someone gets you in this position. Go on, get out of it.” Dalton was speaking but your head was empty. You couldn’t focus on anything besides the feeling of him against your body. You were scared to move in case you accidentally grinded yourself on his leg. Dalton searched your eyes, trying to see if you heard him or not. He noticed the way your breath tightened and the way your stomach muscles clenched with him so close.

“Unless this is something you like? Being pinned down like this.” Dalton’s knee inched further up and you dug your heels in the sand, an overwhelming sense of embarrassment settling upon you. You thrusted back, throwing him off balance and kicking your leg over, kneeing him in the side. You lurched up, now pinning him to the ground, straddling him and holding one wrist each in your hands. His face inches from yours, he was letting you pin him there.

“Maybe you’re the one who likes to be pinned down?” Your voice was breathy and heavy, feeling Daltons eyes fixed on your chest you coughed, his eyes flung up to meet yours. For once it was him being caught staring and not you. In a rush of confidence, or madness, you let his wrist go and let your fingers run through his hair. A moment passed; you could feel your heartbeat in your chest thumping loudly. Daltons free hand slid up yours and pulled you down by your neck, your noses now bumping each other. Daltons other hand broke free of your grasp, cupping your face. His lips connected with yours, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulled you closer to him. He pulled a strangled sound from you feeling his hips roll against yours. A delicious feeling began to spread as you kissed him again, he nibbled at your bottom lip, his hands settling on your hips, kneading and squeezing. The lust in your eyes was palpable when you looked at him again, he couldn’t stop smirking at you. You grasped his hair, his teeth grazing at your neck, making his way down your sternum, to your stomach, nipping and sucking as he went. His fingers hooked delicately under your shorts, pulling them down and throwing them down the beach. The cool sand hit your butt, and you gasped, rolling your hips upwards. Dalton placed a kiss on your hip bone, sending chills through your body. His arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you closer and nuzzled his face in your thighs.

“Are you sure you want to do this right here in the open?” your face flushed at the prospect; his eyes met yours from between your thighs.

“We’re secluded here, nobody can see us.” You nodded and moaned, feeling him move your underwear to the side and pressing a hot kiss to your exposed cunt. His grip tightened on your thighs, licking a wet stripe into your pussy. You fisted the sand, a string of breathy moans leaving your mouth as he continued licking and sucking, sending shockwaves through you. You could feel yourself practically dripping onto the sand for him. Daltons eyes met yours as his middle and ring finger slipping inside you, immediately tugging upwards. Dalton groaned against you once he felt how wet you were for him, his hard crotch, grinding against the sand.

“You’re so wet.” Dalton whispered, his fingers picking up the pace, your heels dug in the ground, trying to bring yourself back to earth, you felt like you might float away.

“I need you, please.” You rolled your hips again, shuddering underneath the pleasure he was giving you. Dalton held you flush against him as he kissed back up your stomach, his hand brushed over your hardened nipple in your sports bra and pinched. You keened against him, nudging him up towards your mouth with your knees. He kissed you eagerly, right hand still kneading your boob and the other gripping firmly on your thigh, spreading you for him.

“You know I wanted to take you out to dinner, or lunch – anything. Thought you’d say no though, you’ve been a quiet little mouse. But now look at you, all spread out waiting for my cock.” Dalton slid your underwear to the side, leaving your pussy exposed as he pulled down his shorts. His fat cock slapped against your clit and you mewled at the feeling.

“I would have said yes if you asked me.” You whispered, feeling your cheeks warm, barely looking into his eyes. Dalton ran the tip of his dick over your wet pussy and chuckled.

“Doesn’t matter, you’re mine now.” He grinned but it fell away as he pushed his cock into you. You breathed heavily when he bottomed out, the pinch and stretch overwhelming.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll go real slow.” He smirked, mimicking his line from earlier. Dalton pulled out slightly and pushed back in agonizingly slowly. You let out a low quiet moan, adjusting to the feeling. Dalton hugged your thighs and lifted your legs up flush with his chest. His slow thrusts deepened at the new angle, his cock perfectly hitting that soft spot inside of you. All you could do was close your eyes and roll with his deep rhythm. He wrapped his arms around both your legs, his pace quickening. Your little moans turned loud breathless as his hips pounded into you. He wrapped his hands around your legs, completely locking you to his chest and raising your ass off the sand in the process. You all but dangled there as he hit the same deep spot in you over and over again. A warm flame was forming in your stomach, an explosion threatening to burst at any moment. Daltons pace did not relent and you moaned, grabbing fistfults of sand again, needing something to grab onto.

“I can feel you getting closer, honey.” His molten voice filled your ears and you nodded, too flushed and fucked out to speak.  Dalton’s pace slowed, his hips now rolling deep and slow against yours as he released your legs and pushed them against your chest. His thumb lazily stroked your clit, his thrusts doing most of the work moving you back and forth over it. You came suddenly with a gasp, waves of pleasure rolling through you. You tried to smack Dalton’s hand away, but he kept stroking your clit, turning your moans to breathless pleas as he fucked you into overstimulation.

“Where can I finish?” Daltons groans were louder now, his pace rapid and erratic as he neared his end.

“Inside me.” You whined and wrapped your legs around him, pulling him to your chest. His moans muffled in your neck as he came, hips stilling in a final thrust, pushing himself all the way in. He pulled out, watching as his seed spilled out of you and grinned.

“Would you like to have breakfast with me?”