#I won’t and I don’t think you should either

[harryslittlefreakk]

off limits

summary: planning your brother’s birthday turns into crossing a line with his best friend. everyone say thank you @bethiegurl19 for the request!!!

wordcount: 4.5k

warnings: angst, smut (foreplay, protected sex)

a/n: back with a bang baby!!!!!

masterlist 😋🌷🫧🍒 taglist

“You’re not bringing him.”

“You can’t dictate that.”

“Yes I can.”

“No, Harry, you can’t. It’s my house, my brother, and my-.” Your voice trailed off, not knowing what you could actually call Matt. Harry knew as well as you did that he wasn’t your boyfriend, he was the man who bothered with you when his other options were busy.

“Jake doesn’t even like him,” Harry muttered, his jaw flexing as he spoke.

“Neither of you will ever like who I date while you still see me as a kid,” you shot back, standing up too fast, feeling the wine rush to your head as you turned your back on Harry. It was the fourth night you’ve gotten together to try and plan your brother‘s birthday, the fourth night Harry had fought you about Matt.

“It’s not about that. He’s an arse and everyone sees it except you.”

You rested your elbows on the counter, rubbing at your temples. “It’s not your place to see it. But fine. I won’t invite him,” you sighed, hating that you were giving in to Harry.

“Good,” Harry all but growled, downing the rest of his wine in one sip.

“And I don’t still see you as a kid,” he added, walking over to you, his hand brushing your side as he reached for a new bottle of wine. His touch was light, barely even there, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you, heat blossoming against your skin. You could feel his presence next to you, close enough that the scent of his cologne mixed with the dry oaky smell of the wine on his breath. He hesitated for the briefest second, his hand lingering near your side. But even if he had noticed the way you’d gone totally rigid, he didn’t say anything.

You moved away slightly, trying to focus on the wine splashing into the glasses in front of you, the walls of the glass stained pink from Harry’s sloppy pouring, ignoring the way your skin buzzed in the aftermath of his touch. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, your mood worse.

“You’re not even pouring it right,” you muttered, snapping at Harry before you could stop yourself.

His head turned, and you could feel his eyes on you as he straightened, the bottle still in his hand.

“Pouring it right?”, he laughed, that fucking smirk tugging at his lips. It boiled your blood.

You turned to lean your hip against the counter, grabbing the bottle from his grip.

Harry let out another low, frustrated laugh, raking a hand through his long curls as he turned towards you fully.

“Relax,” he said finally, pulling the bottle back slamming it back down on the counter. “You’ve been on my case all week. The decorations, the music – you fought me on every single thing. What, because I don’t like your little boyfriend?”

You froze as Harry stepped closer, his tense frame towering over you. His green eyes were locked on yours, sharp and darkened in his frustration.

“Tell me then. What the fuck are you even doing with a guy like Matt?” His voice was low and biting, but not teasing in the way you’d grown to expect.

Your jaw clenched, your throat dry as your hands reached behind you to grip onto the edge of the counter. “You don’t know him,” was all you managed to say.

“Yes I do, y/n. I went to school with him. Jake went to school with him. And I’ve seen enough of him to know he hasn’t changed at all,” Harry shot back, his voice rising.

“It’s none of your business! I’m old enough to make my own mistakes. I don’t need either of you to protect me anymore,” you shouted, glaring at Harry.

“You never needed our protection. But look at you! You’re trying to pick a fight because I don’t think your hook up should be at Jake’s party. Is he even worth it?”

Your stomach twisted at Harry’s words, heat flooding your cheeks. You knew what he was asking. He wanted to know if despite all of Matt’s other flaws, of which there were many, he was a good enough fuck for you to keep him around.

“It’s worth it just to piss you off,” you mumbled.

Harry ran a hand over his face, looking straight through you as he laughed. “You’ve wasted a year fucking him because it pisses me off?”

“I’m not discussing that with you.”

“Why not? Because you don’t want to admit that’s the entire reason you carried on seeing him? Or because you don’t want to admit that he isn’t even a good fuck?”

You opened your mouth to spit something back at Harry, but nothing came out. Harry clearly knew you better than you thought, and no matter how much you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t.

Your silence didn’t go unnoticed. That same irritating look of amusement was still on Harry’s face as he looked down at you.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his voice low, his eyes flickering to your lips where they lingered for just a second before snapping back to your eyes.

You hated him in that moment. For being right, for knowing you so well, for backing you into a corner you couldn’t see a way out of. But more than anything you hated how your body was reacting to him, the way his closeness made your heart race.

You wanted to punch him, to shove him out of your house and never see him again. But when your hand reached out towards Harry, it betrayed you, gripping at his t-shirt and pulling him closer rather than pushing him away.

It was all the confirmation he needed. His lips were on yours, rough and urgent, like he’d been holding himself back for weeks and finally couldn’t anymore. For a split second, you froze, your mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. But then his hands were on your waist, pulling you even closer.

You kissed him back without thinking, your hands clutching at the cotton of his t-shirt as if you needed to hold on to something to keep from falling. His body pressed against yours, his warmth searing into you, that big wall of muscle pushing against your front.

Harry groaned against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he backed you up against the counter. The edge of it pressed into your lower back, but you didn’t care. All you could care about was him - the way his lips moved against yours, the way his fingers dug into your skin, the way he tasted like wine and heat and something unmistakably Harry.

He stepped back, running a hand through his curls, his breathing uneven as his eyes darted between your face and the floor. His lips were red and swollen, and you couldn’t look at him without feeling like the world had tilted sideways. He stared at you, his eyes dark and wild, his hands still gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twitched into a smirk, though his eyes were still dark and locked onto yours. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice rough. “Didn’t seem like you minded.”

“I should go,” he said quietly after a minute, his voice hoarse and full of something you couldn’t quite place.

Your chest tightened, but you nodded, your arms wrapping around yourself in a futile attempt to fill the sudden ache his words created. “Yeah,” you said softly, avoiding his eyes. “You should.”

For a moment, he hesitated, like he was waiting for you to stop him. But you didn’t. You just stood there, rooted in place as he turned toward the door. He didn’t look back as he left, and the soft click of the door shutting behind him felt deafening.

You let out a breath, leaning back against the counter as you tried to gather your thoughts. Your lips still tingled from his kiss, your skin still warm where his hands had held you, and you hated how empty the room felt without him. You hated that you even wanted him to stay and kiss you again.

The thought hit you like a wave, but you shook it off, forcing yourself to push away the longing that crept into your chest. He was gone, and it was already messy. It didn’t need to go deeper.

But when the knock at the door came, your heart leapt into your throat, and before you could even process what you were doing, you were pulling it open.

Harry stood there, his hand braced on the doorframe, his eyes dark as they met yours. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you like he was fighting an internal battle he’d already lost.

“I couldn’t go,” he said finally, his voice rough.

You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, because he was stepping inside, kicking the door shut behind him as his hands found your waist. He pulled you to him, wrapping your legs around his hips as he pinned you against the wall, his lips finding yours with a desperate, hungry urgency that left you breathless.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered against your lips, his voice thick with frustration as his hands gripped your thighs. “You know that?”

“You’re the one who came back,” you shot back, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed you again, deeper this time.

“Yeah, because I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he growled, his lips trailing down your neck, sending a shiver racing through you. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how I’m right. Matt isn’t enough for you, is he?”

Your breath hitched, your nails scraping lightly against his scalp. “Don’t—”

You hated how easily he got under your skin, how his words hit far too close to the truth. “You’re so full of yourself,” you snapped, though your voice lacked conviction, trembling under the weight of his presence.

Harry smirked, his hands tightening on your hips as he carried you toward your bedroom, not breaking eye contact. “Maybe,” he admitted, his voice dripping with confidence. “But I’m not wrong, am I?”

You didn’t answer, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But the heat in your cheeks and the way you clung to him told him everything he needed to know.

By the time he reached your bedroom, your resolve was gone, replaced by a desperate ache in your core that only he could seem to satisfy. He laid you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours as his lips brushed against your ear.

“Let me show you how it’s supposed to feel,” he murmured, his voice rough but steady.

And as his lips found yours again, his green eyes locked onto yours for just a split second, looking at you in a way that showed you both permission and forgiveness.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Harry whispered, his words muffled against your mouth, the scent of the wine warm against your skin.

“I can handle it,” you replied, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

“Say you’ll tell me,” he repeated, firm and commanding.

“I’ll tell you,” you echoed, heat spreading through your body as he planted his hands either side of your head, caging you in.

The silver rings on his fingers caught the lone beam of moonlight streaming through the curtains, the chilled metal brushing against your skin as he moved closer still. Your gaze follow the lines of his tattoos, the dark ink curling up his forearm, disappearing under the pushed-up sleeve of his t-shirt.

Harry‘s mouth moved from yours to the curve of your neck, his lips brushing over your wild pulse with a deliberate slowness. His teeth grazed your skin, a contrast to the soft flex of his tongue as he kissed his way down, and you couldn’t stop the quiet whimper that slipped past your lips.

“Think you finally ran out of shit to say,“ he teased, his hand shifting to wrap your leg around his hip, his touch firm and possessive as he pressed himself against you.

The hardness of him against your inner thigh made your head spin, the friction of his jeans against the thin cotton of your leggings burning into you. You rolled your lower lip into your mouth, trying to suppress the moan threatening to escape as his hips rolled against yours, his cock pushing against you.

“These jeans,“ you whispered, your voice breathy as your hand slid between your bodies, tugging at their skin-tight waistband. “I hate them.”

“D’you really?” Harry asked, his voice laced with that same teasing amusement as he moved back off the bed. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure they’re driving you crazy right now.“

You glared up at him, your lips pulled into a reluctant smirk, waiting on your brain to form some sort of comeback. Instead, you pushed up onto your knees, grabbing at Harry‘s t-shirt until his lips crashed back onto yours in a kiss that was all teeth and heat and frustration.

Harry groaned into your mouth, the sound low and guttural as it echoed through you, his hands roaming over your body, sliding beneath your t-shirt. His touch left trails of fire and goosebumps in its wake, your back arching into him, your fingers curling into his hair.

“D’you want me to stop?“ he murmured against your lips.

“No,“ you breathed, your lips brushing against his before his mouth captured yours again. More insistent now, his fingers splayed across the curve of your waist. Your world was spinning with every touch, your every thought consumed by him – his taste, his scent, the way his lean frame press against yours like even an inch of empty space between you would be too much.

He let you part for just a second, just long enough to pull your shirt over your head, his eyes somehow darkening even further as they roamed the skin that had, until then, been off limits to him. His breath hitched, his fingers skimming along the soft lace of your bra. He took his time, like he wanted to memorise every inch of you.

“Even better than I imagined,” he murmured, his voice gravelly yet almost silent, as if he wasn’t saying that to you, but to himself.

Your eyebrows quirked in questioning as his eyes snapped back to yours, something dangerous in the depths of darkened greens. “More than I should’ve,” he confessed, leaning down to press his lips to the sharp angle of your collarbone. “Much more.“

His confession sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your fingers finding their way back to his hair, tugging him closer as his mouth continued down your body.

When his fingers slipped into the waistband of your leggings, he paused, pushing you softly back down onto the bed, his eyes boring into you. “I need to hear you say you want this,“ he said, pushing his free hand through his curls.

“I want this,” you breathed without hesitation. “I want you.”

That was the final confirmation he needed, his hands never leaving your skin as he stripped away the barriers between you, first the remainder of your clothes, and then his.

When he finally pulled his shirt off, you let your eyes wander over his body, drinking in the sharp lines of his torso, the way his tattoos rose and fell with his breathing. You kept your gaze on his body as he kicked off those damn jeans and his underwear, Letting yourself appreciate the soft smack of his cock against his flesh as he freed it, something your teenage self was sure to thank you for.

You felt your eyes wide and slightly as you registered his size, your breath catching in your throat.

But Harry only smirked, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time, his hand sliding under you to cut the back of your neck as his body settled over yours. His weight, his heat, the feel of his skin against yours – it was overwhelming.

“I told you he wasn’t enough for you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him once again that he was arrogant, but his hand slid between your thighs, and the words died on your tongue.

You let out a strangled gasp of his name, your head falling back into the pillows as the part of his thumb worked at your clit.

“Say it,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your jaw. “Say I’m better for you than he is.”

You wanted to fight him, to deny him and take him down a notch, but all you could do was whimper against his skin, your body arching into his touch as heat pooled in your core.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his lips trailing across all the skin they could reach, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

The roughness of his hands contrasted with the gentle touch of his movements, intoxicating and addictive as his hips ground against yours.

“You’re already so worked up for me,” he muttered, his voice almost a growl as he pushed two fingers into you. “All this time, y’just needed to be fucked right.”

“Shut up,” you managed to bite back, losing the edge to your voice as his fingers flexed against your sweet spot.

Harry chuckled, a deep, throaty laugh that sent shivers down your spine. “That’s why you get so riled up. Because every time I fight you about Matt, you’re thinking about this.”

You tried to glare at him, but the way his fingers fucked into you made it impossible to do anything but push your hips against his touch, your cheek turning to him as his lips grazed your ear.

“What do you think about, hmm? Me touching you like this?” he continued, taking your silence as confirmation.

“Harry,” you groaned, gathering a fistful of his hair as his hand stilled, his thumb pressed to your nerves.

“C’mon, kitten. Tell me,” he pressed, a commanding edge to his words that only deepened the ache in your core.

“What you’d feel like, how you’d sound. How you’d fuck m-“

You didn’t get to finish, Harry’s lips were on yours again, swallowing the rest of your words in a kiss so deep and consuming that it felt like he was pulling the life from your body. He pushed a third finger into you, his rings stone-cold against your folds, the silence punctured by breathy gasps and your wetness pushing in and out of you with his every movement.

Your breathing quickened, each stroke of Harry’s fingers building the pressure in your core. He worked at you expertly, his thumb circling your clit in a rhythm that had your skin overheating, your toes starting to curl, your hips bucking into his palm.

His name spilled from your lips like a mantra as your body tensed. Harry kept his eyes locked on you, his brows furrowed as he watched you unravel beneath him.

“Let go, love,” he murmured, his voice thick and coaxing, his fingers curling just right to hit the sweet spot that had you seeing stars.

He didn’t need to tell you twice. The tension that had built inside you snapped, a fresh wave of ecstasy crashing over you with such power that you couldn’t hold back from crying out. Your muscles tightened around his fingers as hot, pulsing waves of pleasure worked their way over your skin, leaving sharp tingles in their wake.

Harry didn’t let up, drawing out your high with slow, deliberate movements, his thumb back to pressing firmly at your clit as his fingers worked you through it.

When you finally went limp beneath him, your chest heaving, he slowly withdrew his hand, the sudden lack of touch drawing out a needy whine from your throat.

You watched through blurry eyes as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste you. A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips, an appreciative groan echoing from his throat.

You let out a shaky breath, your head spinning, your world now entirely tilted on its axis. But Harry didn’t give you much time to recover. He leaned back down, his lips brushing yours, letting you taste your sweetness on his tongue as his hand cupped your cheek.

“Not done with you yet,” he promised, his voice muffled against your lips.

“Then don’t stop,” you whispered, your mouth quirking into a smile, heart racing as he fished through his pockets for a condom.

“I’ve been patient with you,” he said, tearing the foil wrapper with his teeth as he knelt between your legs. “Not anymore.”

You swallowed hard as he rolled the condom over his cock, his length hard and heavy in his hand.

“I can handle you,” you retorted, heat flooding through you.

Harry let out a low chuckle, his nose brushing against yours as he lined himself up, his tip just barely pressing against your entrance. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

He pushed into you slowly, his hips rolling forward inch by inch. The stretch had you gasping, your hands flying to his shoulders. Harry groaned, the sound raw and guttural, his forehead falling to yours as he stilled, letting you adjust to him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice strained. “Feel so good, princess.”

Your fingernails dug into his skin as your body arched into his, trying to adjust to the overwhelming fullness of him. “Move,” you whimpered, desperate for him to do something to help ease the ache building inside you.

Harry obeyed, his hips rolling back before snapping forward again, and again, the force of his thrusts sending a jolt of pleasure through you. He moved deliberately, his pace slow and calculated, his free hand grabbing needily at the flesh of your hip.

“Look at you,” he groaned, full of awe as he watched the way your body responded to him. “Taking me so well. You were made for this.”

Your head rolled back on the pillow, your nails raking down Harry’s back as he drove into you, his pace unrelenting. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathless moans and Harry’s gravelly groans as he buried himself in you over and over again.

Every thrust brought you closer to the brink, the coil in your stomach tightening with every snap of his hips. Harry seemed to sense it, his hand sliding underneath his body, finding your clit and circling the nerves with practiced precision.

“You gonna come for me?” he asked, his teeth grazing the skin at your jaw. “Gonna let me feel you fall apart?”

Your entire body trembled as Harry’s words broke through the fog in your mind, his deep, commanding tone sending shockwaves through you. His fingers on your clit matched the rhythm of his thrusts, each movement calculated to push you further into a haze of pleasure.

“Please,” you whimpered, your hands clutching desperately at his curls.

“Wanna feel how good I make you feel,” he pressed, his lips brushing against your ear.

Your back arched off the bed as his hips slammed into yours, the angle perfect, his cock burying itself deep inside you. You howled out his name, your walls clenching and pulsing around him.

Harry groaned deeply, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he fought to maintain control.

“That’s it,” he growled. “That’s my good girl.”

He didn’t stop, his hips continuing to drive into you, his fingers on your clit prolonging your orgasm until your body shuddered from the overstimulation. You writhed and whimpered, trying to ground yourself, but Harry wasn’t done with you yet.

“You’ve got another one in you,” he whispered against your ear, his voice rough and full of intent.

“I can’t,” you whined, completely sure that you couldn’t handle more, that another orgasm might break you, but the fire in his gaze told you it wasn’t a question.

He shifted, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, your body already sensitive, but the way his cock dragged against your sweet spot had you spiraling all over again.

His fingers left your clit only to grab your other thigh, pulling you flush against him, his pace growing rougher, more desperate. “You feel that?” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “Feel how good you’re taking me? Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You could barely think, your mind foggy with pleasure as the pressure built inside you again, faster and harder this time. Harry’s lips found yours, swallowing your moans, his movements growing erratic as he chased his own release.

“Come with me,” he urged, his forehead pressing against yours, his voice barely more than a breath. “Come with me, kitten. Let me feel you.”

And then you were falling again, your body clenching around him as another orgasm ripped through you, white-hot and all-consuming. Harry followed just a second later, his groan low and guttural as he buried himself deep, his body trembling as he spilled into you.

The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, your bodies tangled together as you both came down from the high. Harry’s weight pressed against you, grounding you, his lips ghosting over your temple in a surprisingly tender gesture.

“You okay?” he asked after a moment, his voice softer now, full of concern as he brushed your damp hair away from your face.

You nodded, still catching your breath, your lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. “More than okay.”

Harry chuckled, the sound warm and comforting as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Good,” he murmured, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your cheek. “Still think I’m full of myself?”

You shook your head, “no. Just thinking about me being full of you,” you grinned, biting down on your lip.

He cupped the back of your head, rolling onto his back and bringing you with him, holding you flush to his body. “I think your brother might kill me,” he whispered, a nervous edge to his usually steady voice.

[plaidcowboy]

છ !loner!shoupe being rafe’s alibi

── ✦ .ᐟ loner!shoupe!reader

  ‧₊˚ ׁ  ׅ after the peterkin situation :

୭ 𝜗𝜚 ⠀ ┈─⠀ִㅤ ░ ㅤ��

“i can log into the system.. and cause an error so they can’t track the gun to you..” you held your phone tightly to your cheek, peering at your cracked door for any movement of your dad. rafe whispered back in response to your whispering, though he didn’t need to.

“you can do that for me, fugitive?” his low voice sounded in your ear.

you’d do anything for him. this was only the first of many instances to come that would prove that. you knew upon meeting him you would do whatever to make him stay. there wasn’t anything you were opposed to doing for him. he confided in you about his family issues which only made you feel that more protective. nothing could come between you two. neither of you would let it. what rafe did to the sheriff didn’t come close to what he would do if you were taken from him.

“of course.. i.. i don’t want them to figure out it’s yours. that would mean they’d connect you shot her. i don’t want you to go to jail, rafe. i don’t know what i’d do..”

“shh. i don’t want that, either. they think they’re testing me with this peterkin situation, if anything happens with you, i’ll show them how far i can go”

rafe’s constant reassuring words always made you swoon. no one wanted you like that. no one showed you they cared like rafe does. he showed you the standard of how you should be treated. you thrived off of it.

“but nothing’s going to happen. not with you being so good to me. what did i do to deserve you?”

you started, taken aback by his question. “i don’t deserve you. you treat me too well, i.. i can do more. i can get the cops to focus on the actual perp.. i’ll make them lock him up, you won’t have to worry..”

“no, don’t do that. you’re doing good already, it’s fine.” rafe hadn’t told you who the real perpetrator was. as much as he trusted you with his secrets, this one he still didn’t yet want to tell. you would never rat out ward, him being too close to rafe. it would only upset rafe and that was the last thing you wanted. rafe knew it would only make you more upset with ward. he didn’t need you worrying.

“okay.. i’ll call you tomorrow once i finish.”

 ‧₊˚ ׁ  ׅ visiting rafe in jail :

୭ 𝜗𝜚 ⠀ ┈─⠀ִㅤ ░ ㅤׄ

“no, don’t tear up, you tried your best” rafe wished he could reach through the glass to wipe your tears. your plan to sabotage the computer system did work.. but your father came up with a different way to figure out who the murder weapon belonged to. which led to you and rafe being separated by aforementioned glass.

you softly sniffled, bringing up your sleeve covered arm that went past your wrist to swipe at your nose. “i know.. but..” you hiccuped. “..now you’re in there” your nose twitched.

“i don’t want those tears messing with my little fugitive’s pretty face. i’m not mad at you, alright?”

you sighed out a breath, collecting yourself. “okay.. do you need me to do anything? check on your sisters?”

rafe appreciated your willingness to help. you were always willing. whatever made rafe happy. even messing with the law. or talking to his sisters for the first time..

“nah, don’t talk to them. ’specially not sarah. i’ll deal with her myself” he trailed off to a mumble, slight vengeance forming in his eyes. it should scare you, the inference of what rafe would do to his sister. but you didn’t like sarah’s traitorous actions. family or not, anyone who didn’t care for rafe like you did didn’t stand out in your book. of course, you’d yet to find out what rafe did to sarah.

“okay.. anything else?”

rafe leaned closer to the glass, assessing you. “i’d love if you could visit everyday..”

“i will. i’ll come see you everyday” you rushed out before rafe could finish his sentence. he smirked at your eagerness.

“..but you can’t make your dad suspicious of where you’re going everyday.” you slightly pouted, knowing he was right. you only were able to get away and see rafe now because your dad was called to a scene. usually, he wouldn’t be letting you out of his sight.

“so.. you still got that camera, right?” he referred to your polaroid that you kept on your dresser. that you two used to take pictures of yourselves to keep. you two couldn’t always be around each other what with your dad’s relationship with rafe and reluctance to let you out of the house. “yeah..”

“could you take some pictures for me? don’t think i can go too long without seeing that pretty face.” rafe spoke with an awe to his voice. you wouldn’t get enough of his compliments.

“okay. whatever you want.” you attempted a smile at him.

୭ 𝜗𝜚 ⠀ ┈─⠀ִㅤ ░ ㅤׄ

‧₊˚ ׁ  ׅ part two..

[ditzydoe444]

Personally, i think you should do more perv! Jason where he is just a big meanie. I really liked the wedgie idea too so maybe he gives you a really tight and painful wedgie, you whine and you squirm but he just won’t let you go. He pinches and twists your nipples and pulls your panties just a bit tighter and lets your it rub against your clit. “I just wanted a good look” he says, after he lets you go. He’s acting like these aren’t the exact panties he fucked you in a week ago.

MDNI 18+

a/n: i love this idea of perv jason 🤭🤭

living with jason meant following his rules, you had to walk around in either the tiniest of clothes with nothing under, or just in some small tiny panties. this time, you settled for the latter, bouncing around the house in a tiny pair of pink panties. jason, being the little bully he was would take advantage of it, tugging into the tiny triangle piece of fabric covering your ass into your cheeks. “jacey,” you whined with a pout, trying to wiggle away whilst he literally just gave you a wedgie so damn deep.

it was free use at home, meaning he could and will take you anywhere and anytime, abusing the hell out of your tight cunt.

jason let out a low chuckle, you were propped on top of his lap, whilst he played with your panties, not caring about your whines and mewls. “t-this is mean,” you pouted as he tugged your panties, rubbing the side of it on your clit. “just playin’ around doll,” as he twisted your nipples, making you squirm and whine even more. the more you squirmed the tighter his grip on your waist got, until a harsh slap landed on your clothed clit.

“jay!”

“don’t move, just takin’ a look.” his hands gently rubbing your swollen clit against your panties. “take a look? you’ve seen it enough” you pouted, if he wanted to look you would’ve taken them off in a second, he didn’t need to be mean. “just wanna see my pretty little pussy,” his hand pinching your nipples. you were soaked, god your panties were basically so damn wet you could see the outline of your cunt, your arousal dripping onto his pants.

“can’t play around with my favourite girl?”

you were just so damn sensitive you were about to come from him rubbing your panties against your clit, tugging the material. ‘g-gonna come,” you whined as you arched your back, your hands fisting whatever they were on. “so sensitive you’re gone come from just a piece of fabric rubbing you? just how pathetic are you?”

you shook your head vigorously, “not fabric, f-from you.”

jason chuckled, his stubble gazing against your cheek as he leaned into your ear. “from me sweet thing? well i’m flattered, let me reward you hm?”

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Every Day That You Want

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, tooth-rotting fluff, pregnancy, pre-established relationship, marriage proposal

Summary/Warnings: You have big news for Dean. News you have to tell him, wether he likes it or not. You really hope he likes it, though.

Author's Note: Kind of a prequel to another fic of mine (Still You Want Me), but can be read alone. I just love putting big scary men in normal situations.

Word Count: 2.9k

You can do this. You’ve been to hell and back, you’ve killed angels, you’ve survived at least three apocalypses, and you’ve helped raise the Anti-Christ. This should, comparatively, be easy. 

It’s not. It’s the most daunting and terrifying thing you’ve ever done. It’s just words, but you’re going to choke on them because they could ruin your life. You’ve rehearsed in front of the mirror until your voice didn’t sound like yours anymore and nothing you said seemed real. It had been like repeating the same one word over and over again, until it’s nothing but an odd sound. Until it meant nothing.

But this has to mean something. You have to be able to say this to Dean, and you have to try and not get lost in the possibilities of how he’ll respond. He won’t leave you—Dean would never leave you—but he might tell you he doesn’t want this, and then you’ll have to make a choice. You don’t want to make a choice. You don’t want to hear Dean tell you that, with the lives you lead, this wouldn’t be a good idea. That it doesn’t matter what either of you want, because this isn’t something you get to have.

You want to have this, though. You want to have Dean and the baby. You want to have him as you’ve always had him before—strong and tired, always fighting because it’s all he knows how to do, but resting his head on your chest in the dark and humming against your lips when he kisses you—but you also want to have him in this new way. Where he’d smile for more reasons than just you and Sam and Cas. Where he’d get to direct some of that undying loyalty to someone who’d never be ungrateful, who’d would see him as a hero in a way he might finally believe. 

He’d be so good at it. Dean would spoil the kid, and teach them everything he knew, and care for them more than he’d ever care for himself. It breaks your heart sometimes, how he doesn’t kill himself for Sam, and he doesn’t drink himself to death for Cas, and he tries to get better for you, but he still doesn’t really know how to look in the mirror and not see a shadow.

And this would be the piece of him that’s never been tainted. The piece of him that crawls over you in bed just to hold you, that still watches cartoons and gets excited when he sees a cool car or hears an awesome drumline. The part of him that still cares, against all odds, and cares so much you’ve been worried it would kill him. The part of him that’s so simply made of light and love, crushed under years of his soul being bruised and beaten.

A part of him that won’t break. A part of him you love just as much as the rest of his wreckage, but that you still try to tend to, because you’ll love him the same if it vanishes, but you don’t think he deserves that. Dean deserves to only have that piece of him expand, to have it absorb all the love you throw at him, to grow until he can see it too. Until he can believe it’s there.

You know that it’s all so fucking hard. That Dean will never be all light, but you wouldn’t ever expect him to be. You know that a baby won’t fix him, not by far, but you also know it will show him he can create something. That he doesn’t poison everything he touches. 

That he made something entirely good, with you.

And if he tells you he doesn’t want this, you’ll live with that. You’ve lived with worse.

But you don’t even want to try to live with it. You’ll probably have to, but you’d like to pretend you won’t. 

The most you’re daring to pray for is that he doesn’t freak out. But angels don’t really take your calls anymore. 

So you’ll just have to hope.

You’ve set this up perfectly. There’s a pie in the oven that you will not let burn. There’s bacon and pancakes on a plate waiting for him when he finally gets his ass up. You have the whole bunker to yourself, because Sam’s off to see Eileen.

You’re not allowed to tell Dean that—Sam says he gets annoying—but you will in order to get him in a better mood. Sam’s fatal mistake was believing that you wouldn’t do anything to make Dean happy. So this is really on Sam. He’s the one that introduced you to Dean in the first place. Just because you were his friend first doesn’t mean he didn’t lose your automatic allegiance the moment he said this is my brother and his brother was the hottest man you’d ever seen. 

Sam should’ve known better. His big head should’ve understood that letting you anywhere near Dean—let enough so close that you’d be allowed to fall in love with him—would have always resulted in you using his secrets against him to make Dean happy, so you could slip in the fact that you were pregnant with Dean’s baby as easily as possible. 

Like any sane person would.

Although you have been up for hours, after only sleeping two. And you might be losing your mind. But anyone would lose their mind in a situation like this. Waiting for their dumb boyfriend to wake up so they can change his life forever. 

But Dean’s still asleep. You’re starting to get worried. He usually sleeps in late, especially after hunts, but not this late. Not past noon, long enough for you to stress eat half of his pie, then make a whole second one. Not long enough for the coffee to go cold three times.

You’re about to go check on him when he appears in the kitchen door. Bleary eyes and mussed hair, his glazed eyes focusing slightly when they land on you.

He starts to shuffle towards you, and you forget everything you’d rehearsed. He looks sleepy and adorable, and you’ve seen him like this before but you’d like to see it a million times more. You’d like Dean to always drop his head on your shoulder and wrap his arms around your torso, to always slump over you with a low hum. To always kiss the crook of your neck and let out a long breath when your hands snake around his neck and your fingers tangle in his soft hair.

You could have him like this forever. 

You just have to tell him. 

“Dean-“

“Why’re you up.” He speaks against your skin, his voice slurring slightly, tugging you a little closer. “’S early.”

“It’s 3pm, baby.” You draw back to smile at him, and he just blinks at you. “You’ve been knocked out for fourteen hours.”

He shakes his head, pouting slightly as he takes your hand in his. “Nah. Doesn’t feel it. C’mon.”

Dean starts to walk away, taking you with him, and you’re snapped out of the daze.

“Wait,” You pull on his grip, and he turns with a frown. “Where are you going?”

“We’re goin’ back to bed.”

You give him an amused look, your affection briefly overpowering your panic. “We?”

He nods, tugging your hand in his until you’re pressed right against his chest. “Only up ‘cause you weren’t there. Need to get my girl back to bed, you need sleep too-“

You do need sleep, but until you tell Dean, you might as well be injecting caffeine right into your bloodstream.

“But I made you bacon-“

“Course you did.” He grins, pressing a light kiss to your nose. “You’re awesome, baby.” 

You feel your stomach flutter, and at this stage it has to only be nerves, but that doesn’t make anything easier. “Can we please eat?”

Dean hums, scanning carefully over your face. “You eat already?”

“I had some applesauce-“

“Then we’re good.” He starts to move again, and now you’re attached to him like a magnet. You couldn’t move away if you tried. “Bed.”

You’re frayed and wired and on edge, trying so hard to find the will to insist he stay and eat, but Dean’s so warm and suddenly you’re drunk on him. He’s sturdy and soft in all the right places, herding you back to bed with hands on your shoulders and mumbled praise about being his dream girl, making him bacon for breakfast and lovin’ him more than he deserves, and you wish you had enough backbone to just shout at him that he does deserve your love. He deserves whatever you can give him, including a baby that he needs to know about now before you explode.

But he gets you back into bed, splaying his body over yours and pinning you down.

“Didn’t see Sammy,” his head is buried in your chest, his voice muffled against your skin. “Where’dhe go?”

“Eileen’s.” You sigh, running your fingers through his hair. “I’m not supposed to tell you that, though.”

Dean chuckles, his hands drawing slow circles on your hips. “You’re a little backstabber, sweetheart. I’m never tellin’ you anything again.”

“I’m backstabbing Sam for you.” You shrug, smiling at the air. “I’d never backstab you.”

“’S exactly what a backstabber would say.”

You giggle. “You’re tired, Dean. Your brain’s not working right. Maybe if we get up-“

“Not getting up.” He grunts, squeezing your body. “Not until you get your own fourteen hours.”

“I’m okay, Dean-“

“No. Sleep.”

You sigh, squirming slightly under him. “You know, it’s bad for you to sleep in. It’ll mess up your circadian rhythm-“ 

Dean tilts his head up, frowning at you. “What’s going on with you?”

“I, um-“ You swallow, your whole body suddenly far too warm. “Huh?”

“You always make me sleep extra after hunts.” His voice is a little stronger, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Why’re you suddenly trying to get me up?”

“Nothing’s going on-“

“No.” Dean’s sitting up now, rolling onto his back and pulling you over his lap, his gaze stern. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong either-“

He says your name, squeezing your waist as he rubs his jaw. “Please just tell me. If it’s a body we can hide it, but I need to know if it’s a monster body or person body-“

“Why the hell would it be a person body-“

“I dunno, but if it is you gotta tell me, so I can grab the salt.” He cups your cheek, offering you on his charming, downright boyish grins. “I’m not letting any ghosts haunt your hot ass, babygirl.”

“Thank you.” You mumble, dropping your brow to his. “But it’s not a body.”

“So there is something.”

“Yeah.” You whisper. “But I… I’m not-“

“Hey,” Dean leans back, holding your gaze as he tucks some hair behind your ear. “Whatever it is, I don’t care. I’m helping you.”

You swallow, squeezing your eyes shut. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, like it’s simple. Like this will really be that easy. “For you? Always.”

It takes deep breathes, and hands curled in Dean’s t-shirt—gripping him hard, making sure he won’t fly away or vanish into the air when you speak—but you do it. You run over your entire rehearsal one last time and let it all go, because Dean’s right here, in front of you, and you just need to-

“I’m pregnant.”

You say it, and he doesn’t vanish into nothing. Dean just stares at you, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them, and whispers, “With a baby?”

“Yeah, Dean.” You offer him a small smile. “A baby.”

“My- my baby?” 

You open your mouth with a slight frown, and Dean’s hand flies to cover your mouth before you can speak.

“Wait, shit, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just-“ He groans, his eyes seeming to drive right into your soul as his voice because hoarse. “You’re sure? That you’re… growing one?”

You wish you could read him better right now. You’d laugh at him saying growing one.

Instead you just nod, and it’s like something flips in Dean. He grins—wide and toothy and unrestrained—and you barely have time for the relief to hit when he’s kissing you. Long and deep and passionate, until you’re dizzy and grinding down onto him, falling over his chest and clinging to his shoulders.

“Dean,” you gasp as he dives down to kiss a line over your collarbone. “Shouldn’t we, shit-“ He starts suck on a soft spot behind your ear, and all your exhaustion is starting to catch back up with you, so everything is really just a haze. “Don’t we need to talk-“

“No,” he mutters, rutting slightly up into you and chuckling against your skin when you whine. “Just need you, baby, need to- son of a bitch!”

Dean’s yanks himself up and twists to his bedside table—his hand on your hips holding you steadily against him—scrambling around the drawers as he mutters low words you can’t hear.

“Are you okay?” You ask, your hand fisting in his shirt once more. “I mean, I know you might have doubts about-“

You’re cut off as Dean surges back up to kiss you again, this one shorter and soft, but still firm. 

“No doubts, sweetheart.” He mutters against your lips. “And I’m better than okay. I’m fucking amazing.”

“Good.” You sigh, pulling back to scan over his face. “What was that, then?”

Dean smiles at you, and it’s… nervous. He’s almost never really, truly nervous, but this smile has no edge, no carefully designed charm. It’s just Dean, purely him, smiling at you like you’re holding his heart in your body.

You kind of are.

“I know I, uh, I don’t say it enough. You know I’m not good at saying it. But I do love you,” Dean says your name, and you blink at him. This sounds like a speech. “I love you so much it drives me insane. And I’d never want this, want a baby, with anyone but you. But, I, uh, I want all of this. Whole stupid, apple pie thing, just with you.” He takes a long breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “Marry me.”

You gape at him. “What?”

“Marry- shit, wait-“ Dean reaches slightly behind him, grabbing a small box, and pops it open with his thumb. There’s a diamond ring inside, and it looks like a real one. Not the ones you’d use on cases, that would give you a rash for a week after. This looks… carefully made.

Made for you.

“Dean-“

“Marry me?” Dean looks between your slack jaw and the box, his voice almost nervous. “Please?”

“I-“ This is going better than you could’ve ever even imagined. You’re not sure how to handle it. “I don’t want you to marry me just because you knocked me up-“

“Baby, I didn’t pull this ring out of my ass.” He drawls, his voice a little firmer. “I’ve been getting ready to ask you for months. I was going to kick Sammy out next week, make a picnic in the library-“

“Really?”

“Yeah, I-“ He frowns. “Why’d you think I was poking about your ring size?”

“I don’t, um, I don’t remember you doing that.”

Dean laughs, shaking his head slightly. “That’s good. I was worried I ruined it. I, um-“ he glances down at the ring, his face falling back to the nerves, and you realize you haven’t actually answered him yet. “I haven’t-“

It’s your turn to kiss Dean, and these words aren’t difficult to say at all. “Yes,” you whisper, pressing another, smaller kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll marry you.”

“Awesome.” He grins, and the ring is barely on your finger when he’s diving back into you, kissing you until you can’t ever remember anything has been difficult in your life. 

You yawn right as Dean pulls away, and he chuckles. 

“You alright, sweetheart?”

You hum, nodding. “I’m good. So good. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Dean says your name in your ear, and it’s quiet and gentle. Not like a secret, but a promise. “How’s a day in bed sound? We can try and get you pregnant again.”

“That’s not how it works, babe.” You giggle, folding a little deeper into his hold. “I’m gonna have to buy you some books.”

“I’ll read them.” Dean kisses the top of your head, and you can feel his smile on your skin. “For you.”

“Thank you.”

“Course.” He sighs, squeezing your body slightly. “We’re having a fucking baby.”

“Yeah.” You smile, and there’s that piece of him, shining on the surface. All joy and wonder for something that’s really just good. “We are.”

End Note: Dean Winchester in my head this is indeed the life you live every day. Season 15 isn't real it can't hurt me.

Title from Waste by Foster the People

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Taglist

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@chi-raz @lori19 @wynnthewynnderful

[milkoomi]

finding & knowing your worth. ᥫ᭡

i wanted to take some time and talk about self-worth. this is something that was extremely difficult for me to find and realize for myself, but as i look back on my life and reflect on my growth, i’ve found myself truly knowing my own worth. of course, i still have those days that are more difficult than others, but i’ve been able to quickly pick myself back up. why? because i know my worth. i want to share a few things that have helped me realize that for myself, so i hope this post is able to enlighten you. ㅤ��

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — lose interest in outsider opinions

in simpler terms: stop caring. i kept asking myself, “why do i care so much about what others are thinking of me?” and then i came across a couple quotes where one said, “if you wouldn’t trust their advice, why would you take their criticism?” and the other said, “i would never want to trade lives with someone who hates me.” those two quotes really stuck with me because it reminded me that those people who didn’t have a good opinion of me were the same people i needed to stop caring about.

so what if someone didn’t like me? that person is either no longer a part of my life (for good reason) or they don’t know me in the ways that my loved ones or my own self do, so why should what they have to say or think about me matter?

i knew myself better than anyone, so whatever anyone had to say about me shouldn’t have bothered me, and i let it stop bothering me. i also realized that as my day goes on and i find myself not thinking about what someone said, i tell myself that it wasn’t even worth a single thought in the first place because, clearly, it doesn’t bother me anymore!

if it won’t matter to you in 5 years, don’t continue to give it any more of a meaning.

୨ৎ — stop seeking validation

to piggyback off of my previous point, seeking outside validation is 1. not worth your time and 2. pointless. other people should never be the ones who define your worth. you have to seek validation from yourself. nobody else has a right to tell you whether or not you’re worthy.

i was always looking for validation from others, and it made my own journey to finding myself even more difficult. there were so many different opinions about me that i kept hearing, and it made me feel lost. it felt like i was getting further and further from truly discovering myself and feeling like i was worth something.

i had to pretty much force myself to seek validation within myself rather than from anyone else. it was hard, but the longer i kept searching for some kind of worth to others the more miserable and empty i felt.

୨ৎ — self reflection

time to bring out that journal, babe. we’re going to write about ourselves.

no, seriously, take some time to reflect on yourself. look within yourself and understand yourself a bit more. getting to know yourself and taking the time to focus on yourself can help you figure some things out and even bring you one step closer to truly knowing your worth.

prompts for reflection:

what are 3 characteristics about your personality do you like about yourself? why?

what are your strengths? how do those things about you make you a better person?

what’s your favorite thing(s) about you? how would they compare to what a loved one would say about you?

what are the things that weigh you down? what can you do to lift that weight off your shoulders?

how have you changed within the last 3 years? what about you has changed that you’re really proud of?

self reflection has helped me grow so much. i’ve learned so many new things about myself and it’s helped appreciate myself way more. you’ll be surprised at all the things you find about yourself, and guess what? one of those things will be your own worth.

୨ৎ — surround yourself with positivity

the people who you surround yourself with will play a huge role in how you feel about yourself. i spent too many years surrounded by people who made me feel like i was never enough, and i continued to keep the same kind of people around. i was sick of it. i was tired of being mistreated and feeling betrayed. those people made me feel miserable and they only ever brought me down rather than lifted me up.

even the media i consumed didn’t help me. i was always so focused on comparing myself to those instagram models and tiktok girls who looked nothing like me, and it made me feel worse about myself. even watching videos or shows that brought me down made my esteem drop too.

it’s important to surround yourself with people and media that make you feel good, that lift you up, and that help you feel confident because that kind of good treatment is what you deserve! you shouldn’t have to submit yourself to negativity, it only makes you feel worse and it’ll continue to get worse the longer you keep those things and people around.

now that i have people in my life that make me feel genuinely loved and cared for, i feel like i can offer that same energy those people give me to myself! it really makes a huge difference who your close circle consists of, so make sure those people are people who are genuinely and unconditionally there for you.

୨ৎ — final notes

if you do need a reminder: you are worthy, and you always have been! finding and knowing your own worth is no easy feat, but the journey you’ll go on to discover it and implement it into your life will be so extremely worth it. i promise!

you will always be more than enough, and i hope you can continue to remind yourself of that. treat yourself with genuine love and kindness, and don’t ever take yourself for granted. you have achieved so much and you have so many things to offer in life. you may not see it now, but once you do, you’ll see just how beautiful and bright your own light is.

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[starzify]

DESPERATE

pairing rick grimes x fem!reader

warnings smut | fingering | p in v

MASTERLIST

You had just finished a supply run with your boyfriend and the supply outcome hadn’t come out so great; everything either being soiled or empty. Currently you were both in the car on your way back to camp; the roads completely empty and the cool breeze washing over your face from the cracked open window, knowing the man beside you was driving a little faster than he should.

“Stop staring at me.” You remarked, turning your head to look over at him; his blue eyes still fixated on you. “Rick.”

“Get in the back seat.” The low tone of his voice had you pausing; eyes widening briefly at the change in atmosphere, feeling the car beginning to slow. “Do I need to repeat myself?” Heat pooled between your legs at his dominance; unintentionally letting out a moan which had his lips curving up into a smirk, climbing into the back seats right as the car came to a complete stop.

“Clothes off.” Your shirt and jeans were off as fast as you could remove them, fumbling with the hooks on your bra in your haste to get naked; huffing lightly in annoyance.

“Can you help me please?” Looking at him pleadingly he complied, unhooking your bra when you twisted so your back was facing him; removing it from your arms after. “Thank you.” You murmured, managing to get your panties off before the man was on top of you as you laid across the seats; shuddering as goose bumps popped up on your skin when his large slightly rough hands trailed over your body, making him smile. “What do you want me to do?”

“Lie still while I touch you.” He stated, causing you to relax your body to let him do as he pleased; soon having his lips pressed against yours as his fingers trailed over your abdomen.

You mewled softly into his mouth when he made contact with your folds, rubbing his thumb at your entrance which had you growing wet; hearing the satisfied hum from his chest when he took notice. “Good girl. You can make noise darlin’.”

“Walkers.” You muttered, squirming beneath him slightly as he continued to tease you; moaning quietly as two of his fingers pushed into you, stretching you to get you ready for him.

“They won’t get in the car.” He assured, groaning as he scissored his fingers inside of you. “I’m desperate, sweetheart. Think you can take me now?”

“Mhm.” He puffed out a sigh and removed his fingers, unbuckling his belt as you awkwardly opened your legs for him to fit between them; the limited space making it a little difficult.

Shifting to a more comfortable position where your head wasn’t against the car door you felt his heavy erection against your thigh, jumping lightly when the soft skin brushed against your clit; hooking your legs around his hips. Despite being desperate he entered you slowly so as not to hurt you, dropping his head into the crook of your neck with a groan; releasing a shudder as his teeth nipped at your skin. “Rick, I’m not fragile.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He grunted, bracing his hands either side of your head; lifting his own so his piercing blue eyes locked on yours.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“You-“

“Don’t hold back.” You stated, reaching around and digging your fingers lightly into his back; causing his eyes to briefly screw shut before his resolve broke. He slammed himself into you repeatedly as he began thrusting, forcing you to hold tightly onto him as he fucked you down into the back seats of the car; moaning loudly at his roughness. Your hands slid round to his front and popped the buttons of his shirt, revealing his tanned chest to you and dragging your fingernails over his bare skin; causing him to shudder as he continued to pound you. “Rick!” you moaned, gripping onto his sides as your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure; the temperature in the car increasing as the windows began to steam up.

“Touch yourself.” He demanded; his order turning you on even more as you moved one of your hands down to rub at your clit, your slickness providing lubrication. You gasped at the added pleasure and managed to re-open your eyes, finding Rick staring at where your bodies were connected; moaning at the fact he loved to watch. You could feel an orgasm fast approaching, causing your muscles to clench which had him groaning in pleasure; picking up the pace and quickly having you screaming as you came. “Hands and knees.” He rasped; not giving you time to compose yourself as he pulled out and watched you clamber into the position he wanted, crying out as he slammed himself back into you. Your arms almost buckled as your body trembled from the remnants of your orgasm, feeling Rick’s hands gripping your hips; his rhythm faltering as he neared his own climax. The man behind you grunted and tightened his grip on you, releasing a deep groan as he thrust once more and kept himself sheathed inside of you as he came; triggering a second orgasm as you were still sensitive from the first.

“You need to be desperate more often.” You breathed, hearing him chuckle as he leant forward and kissed the back of your shoulder. “We should get going.” Rick pulled out of you and you heard his belt click as he tucked himself back into his jeans, moving back to the front to give you more room to redress yourself; releasing a squeal when your elbow met the window with an audible thud.

“Careful.” He chuckled, watching as you finished and clambered back into the front passenger seat; leaning over to give him a brief kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too Rick.”

tags: @urloveada @ultravi0lence14 @bluemerakis @frosttbitessam @floralscented @inspiredangel @bluestrd

cassie chats: only on s2 and i’m already gooning bro 😭����

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> slow-burn, soulmate au, Hunger Games au paring(s) -> ATEEZ OT8 x FEM!READER warning(s) -> murder, mental health, gore, suicidal thoughts. words -> 2.5k

abstract -> who said sacrifices were easy?

Y/N’S PERSPECTIVE 

“What are you two planning?” he asked me and the male tribute… and I didn’t know how to answer. What was I going to showcase after a few days of training? All I’ve been practicing was fish tackling for fishing, swimming, and studying the plants in humid plains. My ally was of help but she couldn’t even wield a spear… how was I a threat to anyone?

“The best thing for the two of you would be to act weak… then you won’t be a target for the career's best-case scenario, where you’d get an average score and won’t be targeted for a while,” he said, and suddenly, the elevator opened… We walked in and saw District Twelves’s mentor.

Kim Hongjoong. The Devil in Disguise… The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing.

Jeonghan stepped forward standing next to him while we stood before our mentor.

“I heard you’re trying this year,” he said to Jeonghan, earning a scoff.

“I heard you left your tributes to die?” he asked and Hongjoong laughed. How could you laugh when people were dying when you knew what this felt like? When you didn’t even want to help them… when they were just in your position?

“They don’t have what it takes… most of my district doesn’t,” he said and the doors opened as we walked off. I don’t know what came over me but I turned behind me to see him looking at us. 

He waved his right hand making my eyes widen. Another red string connecting to me? 

“Whatever happens here is fine… okay so don’t get too nervous, they go in order of district with the male tributes going first. Good luck”

Everyone, starting from District One and ending at District Twelve, sat in silence, waiting to be called. This was all to showcase how we could survive or kill one another. 

It felt like forever when it was finally my turn… with everyone’s eyes on me as I walked. 

I went inside to see the game makers. Jeonghan had mentioned that they’ll be on edge and watch every tribute this year since Hongjoong won.

Last year, he was given a meek rating of two… he truly was considered weak. But Jeonghan said to avoid that—not only would I be targeted, but sponsors wouldn’t help me, which is something he told me I needed to heavily rely on. 

I still didn’t know what to do so I could use a weapon… so when I decided to go to the plants they laughed and conversed with themselves. They didn’t pay attention to me after. 

I didn’t know if that was good or not so… I had to think of something to bump my score, anything even a little. So I practiced memorizing beaches and tropical plants when I realized… Maybe I should talk to them. 

“This year's arena is favoring District 4 right? Either beach or ocean?” I asked as I looked behind me slightly and they stopped talking to look at me. I smiled as I got confirmation what I was doing was correct. I was relieved as I continued, facing away from them as I showed them everything I chose of tropical plants… stating I knew from the start what they were planning. 

“You want District Four to win this year… but respectfully I don’t think they will,” I said as I finished and bowed, thanking them for my time as I walked out and I was confident. Walking passed all the other District tributes to the outside where I was going to find Jeonghan.

“I’m guessing they weren’t as observant?” I heard and I saw Hongjoong. “That doesn’t matter,” I said, not wanting to tell him anything. “It doesn’t matter about this small little detail. If you were smart like your district is known for… you’d stop fighting for your life. The victor's life wouldn’t suit you” he said and I was confused about what he meant.

“Seonghwa may put hope in your head if your brother already hadn’t but trust me. Death would suit you better than a cage” he said and I didn’t understand…

You’d think being soulmates would—

“y/n!” I heard and I saw Jeonghan’s glare. I walked to him and he looked at me angrily. “Come on,” he said as he led me away from the lobby where I heard Hongjoong’s laugh… we walked away from my psychotic and knowing soulmate. When we were finally out of the public’s view… I had to ask. 

“What did—“ “I think it's time to make a choice… he’s right you know. Living in a cage isn’t fun at all,” he said, cutting me off and I didn’t know what anything meant. What did Hongjoong mean?

We were on the elevator when he asked what I did.

“Plants at first—“ he sighed disappointedly “—but then I asked them about the arena,” I said and his eyes widened. “Why would you do that!? You needed to take the chance rather than…” He yelled but stopped as he saw my reassuring smile… “I needed to know… if I was right or not so I could see if what I calculated was wrong. Jeonghan…” I said and he looked at me worried. Like everything could come crumbling down… the stress in his eyes was evident but I gave him a relieved smile of my own.

“Jeonghan… I was right it's an arena for District Four”

The next step was now waiting for results. Seeing if we could get a high enough score to not be a target and be low enough to also not be a target. However, this year the careers were deadly, the highest ranking being eleven. 

My tribute partner ranked a two for my escort to try to cheer him up while Jeonghan didn’t even try. He waited for mine. I knew he deserved to fight for his life too but… it was him or me and I had to choose myself for Junghwan. 

“It’s okay dear, it’s different in the arena” our escort comforted the boy crying next to me as my name was called out and then a score…“So y/n, a score of… 10” I felt my eyes widen. Just for telling them what arena I knew? 

“Ok… not bad but you did put a target on your back,” Jeonghan said and I felt scared. More than ever.. in just three days of training and now the results of our showcase were… terrifying. 

Tomorrow is the interview… everything was suddenly going so fast. After the interview, I'd step into my death if I didn’t play it right. 

While everyone went to sleep I didn’t know what to do… At first, it felt like a nightmare… What would I even say tomorrow?

“Let me tell you a piece of advice, kid” I heard and I saw Jeonghan with a drink in his hand as he approached me. He put a hand on my head trying to comfort me when he asked…

“You have people to live for don’t you?” I nodded… Junghwan but also… “You said you met your soulmate… is it in your district or here in the capital?” He asked and I didn’t see any point to lie when I might die in the next day or so. Besides… I think I could trust Jeonghan. 

“My stylist and Hongjoong…” I said and he sighed almost like he was also debating on what to tell me... “The minute a victor leaves you get crowded with lights and pretty words from the capitalites and they idolize you but they don’t know nor do they ever realize that you were killed in there… that you have blood staining your hands that won’t ever come out,” he said and I didn’t think of the guilt afterward…. Survivors' guilt.

“But then you meet the president and he will seem to give you a good life and deals… but be smart. Don’t go against the president… or the ones you love will be killed off one by one. Your brother and your stylist could die at any minute just because you misbehaved” he said and I nodded. 

Act good… behave.

“Hongjoong had lost his parents this year because he didn’t follow that rule. I can tell that the only thing pushing you is your brother… otherwise, this would be complete suicide so I don’t want to see what could happen if your brother died because of something you did”

Behave… I’d just have to act the part. Jeonghan said he had to learn to put on a fake mask in front of the audience. I’d have to do the same… be charming, cute, and perfect in their eyes. Get sponsors… and make me a loveable victor that they wouldn't want to see die

His games… he showed me them and he told me everything he did as well as his thought process. He made an elaborate plan and lied to them to gain sponsors. Those same sponsors are the reason he won… so what would I do?

“Hello again” I heard and I saw Seonghwa. My soulmate… someone I wanted to protect but would he look at me the same after seeing what I'd do if I did survive? “Are you ready to look like you belong from the capital?” He gave me a smile. How… could he be from the capital and smile knowing tomorrow there’d be so many deaths?

“You’ll win. You got a score of ten, that's impressive you know!” He praised me as he started doing my hair. He talked on and on about his plans for me and praised me for my score. He was clinging to the idea of me surviving…

He was just as desperate as I was but… the thought ran around my head. Isn’t it better to just… have to protect my brother? He’s safer with everyone thinking that I had only my brother. 

I don’t think I'd ever forgive myself if I was the reason for his death. I can’t imagine… having to attend his funeral or living my life knowing it was all my fault. Not when he looked at me with admiration, hope, and… love. 

“Here, let’s get you to put on the dress my love, it’s going to make you look heavenly!”

“So y/n!!” I heard the caster say as I walked onto the stage in the white feathered dress with gold accessories adorning my hair neck and arms. 

“Well don’t you look like an angel” he smiled. Boo Seungkwan… Jeonghan told me he knew him personally and trusted his character. So I could do the same and I found comfort in him weirdly enough…

“Now, when you were chosen I had goosebumps. Everything was silent unlike the previous districts since yours is the cut-off from careers. But the boy… his pleas were heartbreaking. Can you tell me about him?” He asked and I nodded. I couldn’t help but smile thinking of my silly brother. 

“He's my brother… he turned twelve this year,” I said and he smiled softly. “How about your parents?” He asked and I shook my head. 

“Our parents died a few years back… it’s been only the two of us since then. It’s why… I need to win” I said and I heard the awws from the audience. How could they aww to two orphans and a boy potentially losing his only family left… orphans who lost their parents to peacemakers… workers for their president?

When it was their rules they implemented… that we had to live this way?

“I see my dear… may the odds be ever in your favor for his sake. Let’s talk about the parade… Your dress was a fan favorite. The feathers made you look… like an angel!” He said and I smiled. 

“My stylist had a good eye,” I said and he chuckled “Well of course and even today's dress!” He announced and I smiled. “I could give you a spin?” I offered and he nodded as we stood up. 

He took my hand and twirled me. It cascaded feathers down to the crowd which capitilites tried to get. The dress even had two parts where the feathers separated almost making it look like wings “Even if this dress gives this light, your district represents power. How does this reflect that?” He asked and I chuckled.

“Light is important, isn’t it? Without district three we wouldn’t have electricity let alone the light. We need something to shine in our lives at the hardest times Mr. Boo'' I said and he smiled. 

“You’re very right my dear. Now, how do you feel about tomorrow?” He asked to make the atmosphere serious as we sat down. The audience seemed entranced so now… make them cry as Jeonghan advised. 

“Worried and a bit scared. I’ll get back to my brother either in his heart or in person” I said with tears blurring my vision. The emotion was real… this wasn’t an act. 

“But surely you have some confidence you got a ten!” He said and I had an idea pop inside my mind.

“Yeah… if I’m being honest? I only got a high score because I predicted the arena” I said and his eyes widened and I heard gasps of shock. 

“Predicted it?” He asked, confused and maybe intrigued… I nodded confirming he didn’t hear incorrectly. I’d do the same thing as Jeonghan… differently but the same aspect. He is my mentor after all… this could ruin District Three’s reputation but it didn’t matter to me. 

“Do you wanna know a secret?” I asked and he leaned in. “A dessert arena”

“You little genius!” Jeonghan exclaimed and I smiled. “They’ll be fed wrong information and some of the tributes will take the trap,” he said and I nodded. He gave praise and he honestly looked relieved…

“Ooh! You already have a nickname in the capital!” My escort soon said running to us excitedly. She was too innocent for all of this. 

“Our little angel,” she said and I was going for a bird-like demeanor but the angel was a lot better. “You’re going to win this… I promise you will” she said and I smiled. The rest of the interviews went as planned… but soon everyone was talking about the spoilers of tomorrow’s arena. I took the attention off everyone which was good…

As we had dinner I waited for my partner's tribute and our escort to leave… because if I was gonna die tomorrow I needed to know everything… “What did you mean by Hongjoong was right?” I asked, referring to the other day and he sighed. 

“Would you die for your brother?” he asked and I nodded. “That's the problem,” he said, confusing me. “Hongjoong lost his family this year to a ‘disease’… that's what the public knows. But our lovely president killed them to punish him and now he’s free. Your brother would be in danger–"

"So it would be better if I die in the arena?” I asked and he sighed. He looked at me conflicted… there wasn’t a right or wrong answer to this. It seems there wasn’t an answer at all…

“I'll be honest… you're a pretty girl, so prostitution, escort ship, paid company, whatever you'd like to call it… he might assign that on to you,” he said and I was confused. 

“So if I behave my brother is safe?” I asked and he nodded with nervousness in his eyes but even with knowing this detail... 

“Then nothing else matters”

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[curiousnightly]

sylus smut sneak peek

a/n: i couldn't help myself from writing something based off this thought i posted about recently and figured i'd give y'all a teeny tiny glance at what i've wrote so far. let me know what you guys think and if i should finish the entire piece.

also, bonus points if you can guess the scenario that i am shamelessly a sucker for ( •̀ω •́ )

MDNI - 18+ NSFW

warnings: mature content, horny sylus

not proofread; ~500-600 words

“Sylus, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why. And from the looks of it, you seem to be reacting to that powder,” I trail off as I approach him. 

I take only one step forward when Sylus quickly stands from his seat. He takes a moment to look at me with a pained expression before throwing his glasses down onto the table and turning his back from me. 

“Don’t-don’t get any closer,” he groans as he places a hand on the table next to him to steady himself. 

Seeing him lose balance, I ignore his request by rushing to wrap my arms around his waist to steady him. Though, as soon as I touch him, a deep, husky moan comes from his chest. My body tenses, not sure how to react to his own reaction. 

“Sylus,” I whisper softly behind him, trying to assess whether that reaction of his was my own desire for him playing tricks with me or if he genuinely reacted to my touch in that way. But prior to coming to that conclusion on my own, he manages to provide that answer for me as he suddenly shifts in my arms. His large hands quickly find my waist and in rapid movements, I am shoved into the seat he once occupied and caged in as both of his large arms take hold of the armrests on either side of me. I take a second to adjust before looking up at him and seeing pure lust in his hungry gaze. I swallow hard as the sight in front of me directly sends heat to my lower core. 

I call out to him once more, both timid and aroused. Hearing his name, Sylus pinches his eyes shut and takes a deep inhale as if it's agonizing for him to hear me say his name. However, I quickly realize his labored breathing is the result of his horns reappearing on his head. My mouth falls open at the sight of them. Something is clearly not right.

“Sweetie,” his voice registers extremely low and hoarse, “if you say my name like that, I won’t be able to hold myself back.” He slowly opens his eyes and this time I notice that his pupils are completely blown. My legs instinctively close tighter, which only brings his attention from my face down to the exposed skin below the hem of my skirt. Sylus curses to himself. 

Ignoring my own sexual frustrations from seeing his reactions, I try to return to the topic at hand. 

“Sylus, what is going on,” I coaxed, placing one of my hands on top of his. His skin is hot, I immediately take notice. His breath hitches upon the skin to skin contact. He closes his eyes again as if trying to compose himself. 

“I-I can’t,” he struggles, his eyes returning to me with an expression of both pain and guilt, “Sweetie, I need you to do me a favor.” His plea comes out with a shaky breath. I quickly nod in response. He drops his attention from my face to look down at himself. Not hearing him saying anything, I slowly look down to where his focus has shifted to until my eyes land directly on it: his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants.

My face shoots back up to look at him, expressing both pity and slight amusement. 

“Sylus…are you horny right now?” I can’t help the small laugh that follows my question. He frowns.

“Kitten, I am not in the mood for your games right now,” he chided, voice strained with frustration. “I need an answer before I do something I regret,” his tone coming out more serious as he practically speaks through his teeth. His control is slipping.

[leftneb]

for the wip ask game! 🌩

🌩 Share something funny/cracky from your WIP. from this ask game

from The Hands Fic WIP! heads up there is one (1) brief mention of explicit content in here!

“D’you remember the lie detector? Thought that thing was gonna cut my fingers off.” Lando rambles on, not realising how much closer he just put Oscar to tripping over his own feet in front of what might as well be their entire team.

In lieu of an appropriate reaction Oscar lets his face just do what it wants. He feels, helpless, as his eyebrows raise and his eyes widen, staring staunchly at the floor because as long as he doesn’t look Lando in the eye he can still plausibly deny having had any sort of reaction to d’you remember the lie detector of all fucking things. 

Oh, does he remember the lie detector? Fucking hell. Of course he remembers the fucking lie detector. Could he ever not.

“Hmm,” he says, trying to school his voice into something that doesn’t sound suspiciously like yeah I remember how you giggled and blushed and hid your face into the crook of your elbow, I watched every single moment of it or the somehow catastrophically worse yes I’ve been jacking off to the knowledge of you having to re-buckle the straps because your monster-sized fingers wouldn’t fit into the space mine were perfectly fucking snug in, so thanks yeah I reckon I remember the lie detector.

Instead, he says, in an unfortunately conspiratorial tone, “I don’t recall it was that tight for me.” Which is somehow worse, and more revealing, than just the truth. If he’s lucky Lando won’t make the connection between Oscar remembering the lie detector and being able to fucking, compare their hand girth like an actual stalker.

“Heh, right,” Lando huffs. “You and your dainty princess hands. I’m jealous, Osc, mine are like, fucking monstrous,” he teases, mischief in his voice like he’s not just flipped Oscar’s world upside down. 

Lando shimmies both his hands out of his pockets and lifts them chest-level, demonstrating his point to Oscar. 

Inexplicably, some primal part of his brain decides that he should be listening to his mirror neurons instead of basic etiquette. He lifts his hands to match. “Yeah,” he says. 

“See? Tiny.” Lando says for emphasis, taking his other hand and craning it all the way over just to poke Oscar’s frozen-still limb. If Oscar wasn’t already used to Lando’s complete disregard of personal space, he’d think it was weird. Well he’d probably think it was weird if he could think at all right now. 

“Yeah,” he says again, pleasantly surprised that his tone is still bored levels of flat. Fucking hell. 

“Well, you know what they say about a guy’s hands…” Lando jests. He turns – to Oscar’s utter horror – to look him dead in the eye, anticipating something; Oscar’s reaction, maybe even a response. 

Oscar opens his mouth, says, voice mortifyingly rough, “right,” realises that there’s no way that’ll be enough to save either of them from social oblivion, and continues. “Big hands, big-” he fails to think rationally, “ego?”

And Lando- Lando laughs. Not a big outburst, just a cackle, of sorts. It brings the crinkle back to the corner of his eyes and snaps the tension from his shoulders. 

“Big hands, big ego!” He says. Bright like the sun, a happy little tremor in his voice. Like he’s relieved Oscar’s joke was funny. 

[lou-struck]

Blanket of Snow

Belpheghor x reader

W.C: 2.4k

~ As the Avatar of Sloth, Belpheghor can fall asleep just about anywhere. But just because he can doesnt mean he should. 

a/n: This was the ‘Other’ option on my poll from a few days ago. I hope everyone is staying warm out there unlike Belphie. 

Apparently a single cardigan, no matter how fluffy it is, is not warm enough to withstand the icy northern winds of a Devildom winter. After staying late to watch Beel’s Fangol practice, The Avatar of Sloth finds himself cold and uncomfortable as he fights against the chill. 

Belphie is miserable, and with each slow step he takes fighting against the heavy air, he lists off the million other places he would rather be at the moment. 

In his bed

*step

In your bed

*step

That really comfortable couch by the fireplace

*step

Eventually just thinking about napping tires him out, and he reaches into the pocket of his too thin cardigan to pull out his DDD for just a bit of motivation. 

He fumbles with the cold screen, pulling up his call logs and pressing your name. The speaker begins to ring and he holds the device to his ear expectantly waiting for you to pick up and make today just a bit better. 

“Hello?” your voice says coming through the receiver a bit staticy from the strong wind. 

“Hey, are you almost home?” he asks, “I’m tired and want to take a nap before dinner.”

“Not quite,” you muse, the lack of your chattering teeth tells the Demon that at least you managed to pack a warm jacket. “I actually am on my way to Purgatory hall to pick up my charger. I won't be home until dinner.”

Belphie frowns, his bottom lip pouting at your words. “Use my charger then, it’s too cold for you to walk all the way there.”

It’s too late.” you chuckle, no doubt imagine his youngest sibling pout. “I’m already here, but i’ll be home soon.”

“Fine, but make sure not to bring home any more of Solomon’s cooking.” he warns. “You’re too nice to that shady guy.”

“I won’t, besides Mammon is cooking tonight and wants everyone to come home hungry.”

Belphie pales because Mammon isn’t that great of a cook either. “Never mind, let's go get sushi instead.”

“Nope,” your reply is firm. “But we can go tomorrow.”

His cheeks warm slightly at your words. “Could we go to the place with the Conveyor belt? It’s all you can eat so we can bring some home for Beel.”

“That sounds great.” you say a warm fondness in your tone that pulls at his inhuman heart, “It’s a date then.” 

The well lit windows of the House of Lamination shine brightly in the distance. “I don’t know why, but just the sound of your voice makes me feel warmer.” he murmurs into the phone. “I’m almost home so I’m going to find a place to take a nap.”

“I’ll see you soon Belphie,” you hum. “I want to make it home before the snow starts to fall.”

“I lov~” the line goes dead. Pulling the device from his ear as the cold screen flickers weakly before dying, leaving his declaration unheard by you. Annoyed, he slides the now useless brick into his pocket and climbs the front steps. 

As soon as he pushes open the front door, he is hit with a cloud of suffocatingly dark smoke. It’s burnt spicy taste invades Belpheghor’s senses, and as it hits the back of his throat it sends him into a coughing fit. Ducking away from the toxicity, the door slams roughly behind him. Eyes watering as he followed the trail to the Kitchen where Mammon stands up on the countertop. In his hand he waves a pathetic-looking dish towel in front of the smoke alarm.“Of course it would be you trying to burn the house down.” He mumbles as the smoke begins to stream out the cracked window.

“Ya could help me ya know.” Mammon pants stepping down from the countertop, looking down at the ashes of what would’ve been dinner. “Yer jus standin there all judgy.”

The smell of burnt food makes the tired Demon grimace “ there’s too much smoke, I won’t be able to take a nap in here now.”

Mammon crosses his arms, “go find somewhere else to sleep then if yer jus gonna complain about it.”

“Fine, I will.” he mumbles, his favorite blanket appearing in his hand and he turns and walks down the hall to find a less smokey resting place. 

~

Mammon hands shake as he sets the glass bowls on the table. After confiding in you that he had ruined the dish he was making earlier, he had to resort to a plan B that he could pull together in under an hour, an instant noodle bar. 

Although making the large pot of noodles wasn't too complicated for the Avatar of Greed, the thing that really made this dinner stand out was all of the different sauces and toppings he prepared so everyone could make their perfect bowl. 

You look around the dinner table and find that for once, his brothers are without complaint. “I must admit Mammon, this was an unexpected surprise.” Lucifer hums looking around at the various toppings.

 “It’s not a big deal or anythin, I'm just a genius.” he mutters, clearly blushing from the attention. 

“Oh really?” then why did the house smell like the inside of a chimney when I got home?” Asmo chirps, “What did you burn?”

Mammon's eyes widen, darting around the room looking for a distraction and they settle on Belpheghor’s empty chair. “Where's Belphie? I thought we all had to be at these family dinners?” 

His utterance draws all seven pairs of eyes to the only unoccupied seat for the first time. “I see, it appears we are missing someone. Does anyone know where Belphegor is?”

“I thought he was home,” you mention, thinking back to your earlier conversation with the seventh born. “We were on the phone when he was walking up, but he was tired.”

“Probably jus fell asleep somewhere.” Mammon grumbles, sinking into his chair. 

“I see,” Lucifer says, settling down in his chair at the head of the table. “Well then, dinner will not be served until he arrives, so unless you wish to dine on cold noodles, I suggest searching for him.”

It only takes half a second for his threat to make Beel spring up from the table, his stomach growling so loud the table shakes. “There’s no time to waste, everyone get up and find Belphie.”

Having put another brother on the chopping block, Mammon slips away knowing that if he is the one to find Belphie, it will make him look much better and perhaps the whole fire in the kitchen thing will get swept under the rug.

“I wonder where he could be?” you murmur glancing outside as the heavily falling snow that already coats the dark ground in a white blanket.

“You look worried,” Satan says walking up to the window. His relaxed smile in the reflection comforts you a bit. “I’m sure Belphie just lost track of time and is napping in one of his usual spots. I’m headed up to the attic now, but you could try the living room.”

“I will, thanks Satan.” you say, recalling the seventh born’s love for the fireplace and cozy couches as the true middle child disappears up the stairs. 

The living room is dark as you approach, but the lack of light does not deter you. One time in the human world, you found Belphie napping in the trunk of a moving car to escape the harsh summer rays. 

But the cold breeze that twists the long curtains, brings you back down to reality. Goosebumps litter your skin as you spot the open french doors. A slushed mix of water droplets and melted snow litters the stone ground. 

Worriedly you rush to the door and grip the ice cold handle, The hinges squeak as you start to shut them, but stop yourself when you notice a particularly large and uneven  amount of snow covering one of the outdoor couches. 

It is mindblowing how fast the snow can pile up in the Devildom. Just fifteen minutes ago, the first few flakes were falling from the sky as you climbed the House of Laminations familiar steps. 

But it’s crazier still that most of the snow has piled up on the couch on the right in particular while its twin just on the other side of it has significantly less. 

It’s almost as if someone is under that mountain of snow…

Oh no

Although your feet are only protected by some particularly fuzzy socks, you rush outside into the elements. The cold, wet snow gets absorbed into the balls of your feet as you stand in front of the Belphie shaped mound of snow.

Although the demon does have a tendency to fall asleep in the strangest places, this may be a new record. Your fingers feel like pins and needles as they dig through fresh powder, the discomfort makes you doubt yourself until you hit something hard. Digging turns to brushing when you uncover Belphies face. 

His skin is ice cold as snowflakes land on his closed eyelids. At first you fear the worst but he lets out a snore…

How is he sleeping through this

Panic turns to annoyance as you waste no time brushing off his shoulders and shaking his awake. He stirs slightly, violet iries blinking up at you sleepily as he smiles. 

“Hey Mc, It’s cold out here,” he mumbles snow falls from his arms as he wipes the powder off his face. 

“Why in the three realms are you sleeping out here in the middle of a snowstorm?” you exclaim, your cold feet jogging in place to try and keep warm.

“I wasn't snowing when I came out here,” he groans sitting up. “I just wanted to sleep somewhere that didn't smell like smoke. 

“S-still,” you shiver wrapping your arms around your midsection for warmth. “T-t-there are a d-dozen places you could've s-slept without putting yourself at risk of f-frostbite.”

“I’m not gonna get frostbite,” he mumbles, taking your hand. I’m a demon, the cold is just annoying for me, but you look cold. Let’s go inside.”

He leads you into the much warmer house as you peel off your ruined socks, placing them outside to deal with later. “You had me worried,” you huff eyeing his snow covered blanket and rosy cheeks. “You should change out of those clothes and take a warm shower. Demon’s may not get frostbite, but I know you guys can get sick.”

“Fine, I am a little cold.” he relents stubbornly, “I’ll go upstairs but you should eat, i’ll eat later after I get some more sleep.”

“Told ya so, I’ll come see you in a little bit,” you hum, watching fondly as he walks away, leaving a trail of melted snow in his wake. 

~

After explaining the circumstances surrounding Belphies’ absence to Lucifer and the rest of the brothers, dinner resumed. 

Beel looked over the moon as he dug into his noodle bowl topped with everything he could get his hands on. Watching him slurp down and work through the savory mountain was quite entertaining, but with all eyes on the sixth born, you almost missed Lucifer silently making a bowl for his youngest brother, slipping away to bring it to his room.

“That was nice of you,” you say quietly leaning closer to his chair when he returns. 

“I do not know what you’re talking about,” he hums, taking a long sip from his glass, avoiding eye contact with you. “But I think you should check on him when you have the chance.”

You nod,  taking the last few bites of your dinner and heading up to Belphie’s room to see how he is faring after his chilly napping spot. 

The twins’ door is shut when you approach. “Hey, it’s me.” you knock. “Can I come in?”

Pressing your ear to the door you hear a muffled but affirmative grunt in response. 

Stepping into the bedroom hits you with a strange sense of deja vu seeing the two beds on the opposing walls, Beel’s is made diligently, sheets tucked under the mattress with military precision while Bellphie’s is piled high with what looks to be every blanket in his collection. 

“At least it’s not snow this time,” you hum, eyeing the empty bowl of soup on his nightstand as you turn your attention to the shivering mound. You pull away the blanket layers gently until you meet his eyes. I’m cold,” he mumbles, strands of his hair sticking up from the blankets. 

Instinctually you flatten the wayward strands as you sit on the edge of the mattress. “I bet, but that’s what happens when you choose to sleep under a blanket of snow.”

He pouts, grabbing your extended hand and pulling it closer, While giving you an accusatory look. “It’s all your fault.”

“How is this my fault?” you ask, trying to retract your hand, but his grip is too tight. 

“You found me outside and woke me up.” he says obviously, pulling back the blankets in a silent request for you to join him. “If I was still sleeping I wouldn't know I was cold.”

“Or you would’ve froze to death.” you counter, sliding out of your slippers as he pulls you under the mountain. 

“There is no way of knowing that would’ve happened,” he smiles, seeing your body relax as the weight of the blankets brings you closer to him, his skin is far colder than it should be, but that doesn't deter you in the slightest. “So you have to face the consequences for your actions and help me warm up.”

“Fine,” you relent, clinging to the sleepy demon. The smell of lavender and fresh linens surrounds you and you breathe in deeply, eyelids growing heavier by the second. Belphie shivers slightly as you look to his lips wondering if they too need a bit of warming up.

“What’s wrong MC?” he breathes, his somnolent gaze twinkling impishly as he leans in closer, but not all the way. “Something on your mind?”

Although the room has grown ever so darker since entering, you can tell that his lips are just centimeters from your own, but he is counting on you to close the distance before you both close your eyes for the night. 

And you have never been one to let him down.

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network

[twopoppies]

Sometimes I feel like parts of this fandom just won’t allow Harry and Louis to grow up. Or they can’t grapple with what that would mean for how they see them and feel about them. It’s like the Harry and Louis of 2011 are preserved in amber in their minds, forever young and moony-eyed over each other, hungry for anything their wild new life was putting in their paths.

I think about this a lot with Harry, in particular, especially lately. The Harry who was 21 in 2015 when the Azoffs were laying the world at his feet for the taking was a very different man, I would imagine, from the one about to turn 31 next week. I don’t think it’s entirely outside the realm of possibility that the past few years have drastically changed his perspective on who he is and what he wants, and that he has perhaps come to a place where he is trying on a new version of himself he’s only recently met. (If you believe in astrological stuff he just came out of his first Return of Saturn, which shakes everything up.)

Frankly, I really hope things have gone a bit psychically akimbo for him in the past few years - he’s damn lucky he walked away from Holivia without being permanently labeled a home-wrecking himbo by the GP, (especially with all the drama rama that was coming out towards the end with the salad dressing and the lying down in front of cars. 🫣) Saturn’s meddling aside, I have to imagine someone as thoughtful and introspective as Harry has spent quite a bit of time reflecting on that chapter in his story and finding the lessons in it.

No matter who we are, life is about change. People change. What people want from life changes, either because of experiences we have, (or maybe because of experiences we’re denied.) But any way you look at it, none of us are the same people at 30 (or 40 or 50) that we were when we were 20. And if we are, that should be cause for tremendous concern.

Harry and Louis are no different from any of us. They put their pants on one leg at a time in the morning just like the rest of us, they just have the space and opportunities their wealth provides for them to pursue their personal growth with perhaps much lower stakes than those of us who have to pay rent every month and pray we have enough stashed away to someday retire. I am curious to see how this growth manifests for both of them over the coming years, in their art and in how they choose to show up in the world publicly. I want all of us to give them the space and grace to be who they want to be.

Sorry for the novel here. You just really make me think sometimes, Gina!

In some ways I understand wanting them to stay the same, but honestly, I don’t think I could love an artist who didn’t learn and grow and examine their life and how it relates to their art over time. And I wouldn’t doubt that the last few years has really changed both of them—they’ve been through a lot (both good and bad).

[fancifulplaguerat]

was re-reading your additions to that post about having played classic hd/daniil is bad discourse and since you mentioned it i’d like to ask what are your main issues with his p2 characterization? as someone who also hates it (so far, i am giving him the benefit of the doubt since his own route is not out yet. even as an npc he was so much better in p1 though.)

Tbh it’s mostly my subjective taste; I don’t think Daniil’s character is inherently “bad” in P2, but I am inevitably going to contrast it with PHD Daniil and. Well. Essentially I think Daniil is a caricature of himself in P2 and is less thematically interesting because of it.

Sorry this will be long bc I have many Thoughts and Opinions.

I immediately found P2 Daniil unnecessarily abrasive. Like “I was blessed with a naturally high intelligence,” Patho Classic Daniil would not fucking say that. Or at the very least that would be an inside thought. Plus how he discusses Rubin with Artemy: “Oh, I doubt it. I’m much more cautious than you. And attentive. And heedful. For example, I’ve managed to establish a friendly relationship with Rubin, your so-called friend.” This is just dripping with condescension in the very structure of it. He undermines Artemy’s ability and doubles-down on his presumed superiority, which he punctuates with further assertions that he knows better. Maybe it’s crazed behavior to consider the syntax, but seriously, ‘And attentive. And heedful.’ are more forceful because of the full-stops, like he either A) purposefully spoke in this staccato for emphasis, or B) couldn’t help himself from adding even more ways that his authority outweighs Artemy’s. He also rubs unnecessary salt in the wound by exemplifying his supposed authority via a connection with an individual Artemy has history with; like the ‘so-called friend’ is so dastardly for no reason.

And he KEEPS GOING.

“Allow me to sum up. Rubin told me he’s the only decent doctor in town, but you’re a competent surgeon! I need you alive, healthy, and quiet. Close at hand. Spare me any wild improvisations—I’ll be the one handling the situation. Medicum morbo adhibere. […] [Rubin’s] gone to carry out my orders! From now on, your Rubin does what I tell him to do. He entered my service of his own accord. I suggest that you do the same. It will help everyone.”

This makes me want to choke him the fuck out, he sounds so ungodly arrogant. ‘I need you quiet’? He is treating Artemy like a child at best, a tool at worst, and him suggesting that Artemy fall in line like Rubin grosses me tf out.

I know I’m preaching to the choir, but for the sake of tediously stating my opinion, compare this with some rough equivalents in HD.

First:

Bachelor: Master Rubin, who doesn’t trust me and is concealing something important, has an unusual source of infected tissue. […] You’re closer to him than I am, though; perhaps he’d be willing to share with you the information that he is concealing from me. > Rubin hates me. Bachelor: He absolutely doesn’t. Last time we talked, I described your feats in detail and proved that his suspicions were completely baseless. You’re his hero now, and he’s deeply ashamed of his tantrum.”

Daniil is being a little devious here, ostensibly trying to use Artemy/Rubin’s friendship (?) to get information he wants that Rubin won’t give him. But he acknowledges that Artemy is closer to Rubin and went to bat for him. I find this interesting because it raises questions about his character—what exactly was Daniil’s motivation to clear Artemy’s name? Was it just to this end, or did he personally care because his central character trait is justice? We also know that he hates lies above all else, and it was a lie (injustice) that Artemy committed patricide, so this action could reinforce the centrality of justice/truth to his character. What does the adjacent P2 exchange suggest? That Daniil has a superiority complex? That he is collaborative only in the sense that everyone he deems ‘useful’ should defer to his authority unquestioningly? What theme does it suggest/support in his character? Obviously, not every word a character utters has to have thematic significance, but I’m throwing it out there anyway.

To compare the second part:

“I heard a rumour of a man who is well-equipped to both dissect the dead and gut the living. […] I’m sure that whenever they find him, he will prove to be very helpful indeed. This is, after all, his line of occupation. He’s bound to do a better job than I ever could. As for me, I’ve had enough of that already.”

PHD Daniil recognizes Artemy’s utility like P2 Daniil, but doesn’t treat him like a tool. He outright acknowledges a deficiency in his own ability, though the final sentence expresses frustration which could arguably read as Daniil thinking he is above “that.” I still think (again. this is my arbitrary opinion not like. objective textual analysis) this reads more like snark than smug superiority. And to your NPC point, I think Daniil is at his lowest asshole capacity in the Haruspex Route, which is why the “Daniil is an ass in P2 because it’s Artemy’s perspective” falls flat to me. Not that that isn’t true—it very well could be, given Daniil’s characterization in The Marble Nest.

Also, I feel P2 Daniil aligns more with the Cold Selfish Academic archetype than PHD Daniil, who is pretty willing to work with others. He clearly cares about people, and his connections with them at that. Trust appears critical to him, and honestly he seems to trust people pretty quickly. He mentions “mutual trust” to Victor and Rubin, and then there’s his reaction to Aglaya’s betrayal; it still keeps me pacing my study that IN HIS OWN ROUTE Daniil’s central deciding factor for the Polyhedron’s fate is that Aglaya betrayed him and he is hurt/angry. He is lashing out because she hurt him—that’s the crux of Artemy’s argument in the Cathedral. Aglaya being a liar is also part of the rationale Daniil uses on Artemy in the Haruspex Route in the Polyhedron’s favor. So, his value of trust suggests that he cares about his relationships with others, and expects them to care back. He also generally establishes reciprocity, rather than trying to be the authority, as P2 Daniil.

Quick tangent: I think this apparent importance of trust connects to his central tenet of truth/justice. When an Herb Bride asks him “What makes you think [lies] have to be dark?” he can reply, “Because they replace the true state of affairs with a false one to profit from someone else’s suffering.” He sees lies as inherently malicious bc they involve a person’s suffering, *unjust* suffering at that.

PHD Daniil also often assumes responsibility for others’ safety (trigger-happy episodes aside, but I think those can be relegated to the Daniil Dankovsky Justice Complex), even those who aren’t his nearest&dearest like his Thanatica colleagues. There are two instances I can recall off the cuff where PHD Daniil changes his refusal to do something he considers “beneath” him—acting as Rubin’s ‘errand-boy’ and talking to Griff in the Haruspex Route—explicity because he is told his not doing those actions will result in someone’s harm/death. Likewise his replies to “Take care of [the Utopians], Bachelor. Let them live” are either: “I’ll do everything that’s in my power,” or “Huh, and let the others die, I suppose?” The second particularly suggests an intention to protect everyone possible. I’m not claiming P2 Daniil is a complete misanthrope, but his superior attitude departs from PHD Daniil in a way I personally dislike.

Part of the issue here is simply the difference between how PHD and P2 handle their themes. On that note. If Daniil is able to manipulate time, his character loses what I consider most poignant about him. For instance, his dialogues like “There is always hope,” “Hope lives forever,” are more impactful to me in his PHD characterization because it’s so entwined with PHD’s themes about futility/how endeavoring for the impossible is part of being human. Particularly since Daniil’s PHD victory functionally comes down to the achievement of people who are basically demigods (which nobody talks about but. that’s a whole separate post I might make one day). If Daniil has successfully broken the laws of nature, it just takes some of the resonant aspects out of his character for me.

[a-hazbin-spider]

“Hm, even for a pig, he ain’t a squealer. And I guess he ain’t one for words neither. Either way his Daddy ain’t raised no snitch! He likes to steal snacks though, I gotta make sure he has a supply, or things would go missin’!”

Angel chuckles softly, ease working its way through him as he feels the welcome warmth of what had to be… a form of camaraderie, friendliness that made it a little easier to breathe with him. And perhaps that might be the delectable smell of the meal they’d cooked together. But, you know what they say, the way to a man’s heart is said to be through the stomach! Even if that statement is in no way anatomically correct… There is something magical about sharing a meal, he can’t deny.

That- it is something he can say for certain. He often lacks suitable time or energy, quite familiar with the situation of being needed in one place or another, or being busy. Often he finds that if he isn’t here before the others rise, then the time for this is usually passed.

He’d felt lighter already. Well, in that area of his chest and shoulders at least. He’s still a bit sluggish, feeling heavy. But he is sure the nice meal before him will make him feel better. The fried egg giving a pleasantly fresh smell with the pepper and spice used.

He’s a little cautious, in a way that he’s making sure the plate is secure when it’s held. When it is offered to him, it’s taken gratefully, the warmth and smell savored just a moment but he doesn’t exactly wait for anything to cool, he’s convinced he needed a big bite right away. Yeah it’s hot, sure, but also he’s gratified by it being delicious. He’s not overzealous about it, but he does certainly show appreciation for the flavor.

“Fabulous..!” He feels a little silly, and perhaps a little like a stereotype, but it brought a good mood about him, it had been a good while since he had something nice and filling such as this. Of course he can appreciate it in its entirety.

“I don’t think I’ve had em cooked this way b’fore. I’ve used hotsauce, or soysauce but, this is definitely better. An’ it’s perfect texture too.” He has no choice, he’s gotta praise where he sees fit! He won’t praise something that’s not deserving, but he is in no way shy to give credit where it’s due. Especially seeing that it’d made him a bit giddy.

Hm. He’d definitely need to remember to approach their agreement with some form of caution and respect. Though in the mean time, this should give good insight. After all, he had been serious as to bring offerings for Alastor to eat should he really need some place else to feel security.

Sadly, there’s no such power that Angel has to read or sort thoughts, but, regardless of how little he believed his thoughts or efforts were worth, the minuscule result to be chastised- it is true that he did think of Alastor. And he found himself reaching out more and more, despite knowing the stag is capable, and astronomically more powerful, he puts himself in a position to aid, or simply to offer himself even without being prompted. Truly. It was strange. Then again, while he was no Samaritan, he considered the other to have importance. In general for sure, but to him.

Sure wishes that he could do a little more than hope, but, anything he can scratch the surface of… suppose it’d have to do. It’s all someone like him could do.

Angel flips the steak once more, nearly finished anyway. It won’t be long til they can eat. But it did give enough time for Alastor to flatter him beyond words. Well, beyond any words he knew. The trust and the benevolence given from an offer like that is nothing short of incredible. Alastor is an astounding type, one that really expects nothing from him. Never forces his hand, or makes his company any more conditional. He’s sure nobody else could get such a genuine and quite frankly generous offer such as that one. When the meat is seared and to a medium level of being cooked, the burner is flicked off, a small nod of finality given to say he was satisfied with it. It’d helped him have his eye on something else so he didn’t make his cheeks burn any brighter.

Angel is sure to keep his voice hushed, it drops into a lower pitch to murmur just above a whisper for his security. “You’d do that..? I think, I like that offer. I c’n promise nobody’d hear bout it. Aside from my pig.” He adds the last part for honesty’s sake, as well as the fact that it’d likely be something to ease any possible tension. Though in hindsight, there was the likelihood he may ask about rules for his pet at some point in the future.

“I appreciate it. I’ll be good about it, too. Maybe I can bring a snack over for ya, make it somethin’ nice.”

Though, knowing Alastor, he knows the other won’t do things if he is truly against it. But still, Angel would much rather bring a presence of elation or mutual comfort rather than that of some terrified kid who’s pissed the bed or something. But the gratitude he has for Alastor willing to take him in like he had before, both in health and in physical dismay, is certainly not wasted. Hell, Alastor had even thought it fine without taking the blood that Angel had agreed to give.

“Oh- speakin’ of: it’s ready.” Brightly, Angel gestures a little invitation for the stag to start off.

[3pirouette]

I will eventually clean this up and post to AO3, but I’m bordering on being late for work because of this ficlet.

I think we all need this right now.

Fic: Tomorrow starts the work. (1/1) Steggy

You can see this as either a part of my Dissents Speak or Seven if we’re lucky Universes…

~*~

It was a devastating blow.

Sitting, watching the results come in.

Watching each state turn red.

“Red Mirage, blue wave,” Steve muttered to himself as he paced between phone calls and texts, over and over for hours on end, managing the flow of information between Peggy and the outside world.

“It’s not coming,” she finally conceded, holding back tears.

“It’s still-“

“No,” she finally interrupted him, sniffing back her emotion. “No. It’s not coming.” Peggy stood, pulling at her shirt and reaching for her jacket. “I’ll have to meet with everyone, put together a speech.”

”I don’t understand how,” he said softly, looking between her and the screen, devastated and forlorn and confused. “We worked so hard, we told the truth, we showed everyone what the difference was…”

”And they weren’t ready,” Peggy said softly, sadly, as she reached for him, entwining her fingers in his. “So may people are, but not enough understood what was at stake.”

”What… what do we do?” He stammered, clutching her hand tight.

She looks at the TV, muted, with the prediction blaring in bold letters across the banner at the bottom: they’ve lost. It’s undeniable. “We try to sleep. We concede gracefully.”

Peggy smiles at him, reaching up and letting her hand run over his cheek. “You never even considered the possibility, did you, darling?”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t understand how…”

She sighs, full of love for the man before her, his optimism and his passion, and for the loss they’ve both now suffered. For the loss so many have suffered.

“Neither do I,” she reminds him gently, “but I need you to.” She can only smile at his quizzical look. “Tonight we can be sad, but tomorrow starts the work. This was an election, not a sentencing. Nothing is written in stone. For every policy, for every bill, for every ideaology he puts forward, we need to be there, ready to fight for what we know everyone deserves.”

He shakes his head, astounded at her strength. “I’m just- I’m so fucking tired, Peg…”

”Aren’t we all, darling?” She can’t keep the bone deep weariness out of her voice. “But we carry on, because that’s what we do. We carry on, because someone needs to fight, to educate, to do. The more we do, the more others will, too. If we stand still, if we get bogged down by this defeat, nothing will change. We will create that destiny for ourselves. Tomorrow is still unknown, and I’m going to do damn well everything in my power to make sure it isn’t the outcome I’m afraid of.”

He pulls her into his arms, holding her tightly. “You’re right.”

She laughs, even if a tear does escape her eyes. “Of course I’m right, darling.”

”Tomorrow starts the work,” he affirms, stepping back and running his thumb over her cheek, wiping away her single errant tear.

She smiles up at him, tinged with fear and loss, but full of the hope she never gives up on, “Tomorrow starts the work.”

[magpie-trove]

Actually I don’t think you are actually fr an adult author if you can’t write something without a s*x scene in it

[shakerula-miczula]

I believe shake and fry lock are brothers??

Are you a pro shipper ? :((

Actually they’re a cup of fries and a milkshake