#THIS SHOWED UP FOR ONLY HALF A SECOND HOW DID Y'ALL CATCH THAT

[barblaz-arts]

What do you think about MaoMao x Shisui?

What do I think about ShiMao? Bro...

They're all I've been thinking about for the past week 😭😭😭 I even changed my phone wallpaper to a shimao official art, which says a lot because until now my wallpaper was this one Chaggie fanart for a year and a half lmao

Ngl I did NOT expect their ship to be this good and have such good canon foundation(NOT confirmation mkay). I've been seeing clips of this show for a while, and people say it's good, but all I knew about it were the j*nmao stuff, which isn't terrible, but wasn't really my thing. So i didn't have plans to watch it, but then I saw gif sets of this scene, and I caved 💀

So my thought process was like, "The het romance probably isn't gonna be for me, but I'd probably like the female character and her friendships might be cute enough for some delusional shipping"

But y'all. Shipping Shimao doesn't even feel delusional...

J*nmao can be cute and I actually grew to like it in season 1, but when Shisui came into the picture in season 2, I couldn't see myself rooting for anything else.

Like I said in one of the screenshots I shared, I really love that Maomao and Shisui are essentially freak4freak, except both of them think each other is weirder which is so funny. They both have their own quirks and unladylike habits. Like when Maomao scolded Shisui for spitting and eating insects meanwhile Maomao has lifted up women's skirts and uses herself as a lab rat. Something something pots and kettles.

Then there's their dynamic.

Shisui is the first person Maomao got to interact with on equal footing in so many ways. They're the same age, so they don't have the same relationship Maomao has with Xiaolan, who is like a younger sister to Maomao, or with the Jade pavilion girlies and Verdigris girlies, who are like her older sisters. Maomao is comfortable teasing Shisui without the threat of looking disrespectful because she's younger or of lower status(to her knowledge), so we got to see a side of Maomao that we don't usually see. Maomao, freakiest in all of the rear palace, getting weirded out by the peppy bug girl but growing fond of her was so wonderful to see.

Shisui plays off so well with Maomao too, and that's probably because they're also on equal footing when it comes to their intellect. They each have their own specialties, but what they both have in common is their general cleverness. Shisui is smart enough to know how to deal with Maomao and is even one of the few people who is constantly one step ahead of Maomao. Only other person is probably Suirei, which is ironic. Catching Maomao off guard is proof enough that they're sisters lol.

It also says a lot that Shisui is the first person to make Maomao look so, idk, desperate to hold on to a person. That isn't very like her. Maomao goes with the flow and greets misfortune and loss with bitter and resigned acceptance. But when she realized Shisui is about to do something that would get her executed, Maomao tried to convince Shisui to do otherwise TWICE. Maomao, who has a strong sense of justice and knew Shisui had a hand in J*nshi's near death, told Shisui to forget about her responsibility with the Shi Clan and taking accountability for her crimes and just run away and survive. The angst in the final episodes was so damn painful, but it pulled at my heartstrings to see Maomao express how much their bond has meant to her through this conflict. And it was painful to see Shisui for one short second struggle to not take Maomao's hand.

Anyways. They're great. Shisui's gonna be one of my favorite fictional characters ever and I hope Maomao gets to see her again someday. Xiaolan is a child of divorce now and it breaks my heart that the series ends with them all parting ways.

[justvea18]

Does he have pregnancy mood swings?

I just spat out my drink what the hell

[inkpetrichor]

Nasty Dog! | Kuroo Tetsurou x f!reader

2.- Part two.

masterlist here<3

cw. MDNI. fem! reader. delinquent! reader. use of yn. smoking. cursing. smut. p in v. unprotected sex. oral sex (f receiving). overstimulation. dirty talking. power struggle. bratty! reader. kinda brat tamer kuroo (?. lemme know if i missed anything<3 wc. 5.5k an. thank you so much for all the love you showed the first part! i love y'all enjoy<3 comments are appreciated <3

Emi snorted behind her palm.

"So he blue-balled you? And you let him?"

"What was I supposed to do? I'm not gonna force myself on him. What am I, a man?" You sighed, shaking the soft carton box in your hands and pulling out a cigarette with your teeth and holding the flame a little longer than you needed to.

"Oh, he blue-balled you blue-balled you. Was his makeout game that good?"

"Oh, believe me, it was. And then he just stood up and left." You ran a hand through your hair, the skin where he'd bitten, sucked, and kissed still burning beneath your clothes—even after a whole weekend and then some.

"What a cocky bastard," you muttered, your fingers twitching at the memory of his smirk, that stupidly sexy bedhead, and his big, strong hands on your body.

The way he'd squeezed you, moved you over him like you belonged there—fuck. Just thinking about it made the heat crawl back into your cheeks and settle low in your stomach. You gave your head a sharp shake to chase the images away.

"So... that's it? You giving up?" Emi asked, fixing her mascara in the reflection of a classroom window.

"Do you know who you're talking to? Of course not." You turned with a slow smirk, catching her eye. She smiled back.

"I just have to push the right buttons."

Before Emi could reply, her eyes flicked past you, widening in alarm. The way they darted to the cigarette between your fingers said it all.

Shit.

You dropped it and stomped it out in one smooth motion, turning just in time to face the one person you really didn't want to see right now.

Inukai-sensei.

Your homeroom teacher stood a few paces away, looking down at the half-smoked cigarette by your boot. His posture was relaxed, but there was quiet authority in the way he carried himself—tall, lean, the kind of person who didn't need to raise his voice to be respected. His black hair was neatly trimmed, though time had started peppering his temples with gray. The pressed, earth-toned shirt and worn leather watch only added to the whole dad energy thing he had going on.

He was the kind of teacher who was there—not for a paycheck, but because he genuinely gave a shit. It would've disgusted you—how nice he was—if you didn't so often feel like the stray dog in the rain he'd stop and feed without a second thought.

His brown eyes, soft behind wire-thin glasses, lifted from the cigarette to meet your gaze. He held up a sheet of paper with a single raised brow.

"Who did you copy the chemistry homework from?"

You flinched, eyebrows furrowing, instantly offended.

"What? No one! I don't cheat."

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before letting out a small laugh through his nose.

"I know," he said. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Just had to make sure."

"Why? Is it good?" you asked, lips curling into a proud smile despite yourself.

"It's perfect," he admitted, shaking his head like he couldn't believe it. "Have you finally listened to your teachers and put some work into studying?"

Behind you, Emi snorted.

"She's been studying, all right," she muttered under her breath.

Inukai-sensei shot her a look, and she straightened like a scolded pup.

"I have a tutor," you said, giving her a sideways glare.

His gaze snapped back to you, eyebrows lifting.

"Really? Who?"

You wanted to tell him it was none of his business—formally, of course. You were a delinquent, not suicidal. But before you could answer, Emi slithered in beside you like a smug little devil.

"The volleyball team captain~," she sang, grinning.

You clicked your tongue, shooting her a sharp glare that only made her smile wider.

Inukai-sensei blinked in surprise.

"Kuroo Tetsurou-kun?"

"That's the one~," Emi chimed again, giggling as she dodged a flick of your hand meant for her shoulder.

"Well... he's top of his class. That's a good choice for a tutor," he said, nodding slowly, thoughtful.

"Top of my class, remember?"

The words echoed in your mind like they'd been tattooed behind your eyes. You bit your lip, hard, willing yourself not to replay the way he'd said it—in that low, cocky murmur while his mouth was on your neck, your hands tangled in his hair—

You were saved by the bell.

Thank fucking god.

You all but snatched the sheet from Inukai-sensei's hand as you breezed past him, calling over your shoulder, "Well, if that's all you needed—"

He called your name. You paused, bracing for a lecture about smoking on school grounds.

But when you turned, all you saw was that soft smile of his—the rare kind. The kind that stuck with you. There was something behind it, too. Something that looked suspiciously like pride.

"I knew you could do it."

You froze. The tips of your ears went hot. You looked away with a scoff and a roll of your eyes.

"Whatever..." you muttered under your breath.

Emi giggled and waved goodbye, and the two of you walked off. You didn't look back, but you heard him pick up the crushed cigarette and toss it into a nearby trash can.

Emi was practically bouncing as she pestered you for a look at the paper. You shoved it at her, annoyed, and she whistled low.

"Damn. That volleyball nerd of yours might actually be an angel. Who knows—maybe he'll help you pull your grades up. Fix your life n' shit."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, well, that's not what I'm actually interested in, am I?"

She pouted. "You're no fun," she said before skipping off toward her class.

It didn't matter.

Once you got what you wanted, you could forget about grades. Forget about stupidly handsome Kuroo Tetsurou.

Or at least, that's what you told yourself.

It was Wednesday, and the late afternoon sun bathed Nekoma's school grounds in a warm, honeyed light. For once, the place looked almost comforting as you made your way toward the exit, lulled by the quiet that blanketed the halls.

You had one more day until your next tutoring session with Kuroo.

You weren't counting.

Okay, maybe you were—but only in that restless, irritated way you counted down to something unfinished. Not because you wanted to see him. Not because his crooked smirks or annoyingly warm voice had burrowed under your skin like a splinter you couldn't reach. And definitely not because you missed the way his eyes tracked you like he already knew what you were going to say and dared you to surprise him anyway.

You hated how easy it was to think about him.

Worse, you hated that the thoughts didn't stop at his mouth or his hands or the phantom heat still clinging to your skin. They wandered off into the weird, dangerous parts—the parts where he laughed at your dumb jokes or challenged you just to see what you'd do. The parts where you imagined staying a little longer after tutoring just to argue about something stupid and feel him look at you like you mattered.

You stuffed your hands in your pockets, jaw tight, and scoffed to yourself. Fuck that. You weren't catching feelings. He blue-balled you and walked out. You just wanted to finish what you'd started.

You just wanted... revenge. Or control. Or something else you couldn't name.

Your boots hit the pavement a little harder as you rounded the building, trying to shove it all down.

Time to go home, text Emi, and forget about the excitement bubbling in your gut at the thought of seeing him again.

Or so you told yourself—until you heard the sharp, unmistakable bark of Kenkiba's voice behind the main school building.

"I told you to apologize. You tryna pick a fight with me, little pudding head?"

You rolled your eyes, heading toward the noise, where the group you were a part of—the so-called troublemakers of Nekoma where well... Making trouble.

There were six of you in total, with you and Emi being the only girls. You were never looked down on though—especially when the boys knew damn well you could take any of them in a fight and win. Not that they would risk it; they were "delinquents," sure, but not monsters. There was a weird kind of chivalry among them, the kind that kicked in when a particularly pretty girl caught their attention—or when someone messed with someone they cared about.

Kenkiba Haruki had that rough-around-the-edges charm that made you overlook his dumb choices more often than you should. His wavy, dark brown hair constantly fell into his eyes—he just refused to get it cut properly—and there was always a bandage somewhere on him, evidence of a fight, a fall, or just a stupid stunt. His uniform was a disaster: blazer slung over his shoulder, shirt half-untucked, school tie? Nowhere in sight.

Tall, broad-shouldered, always in motion—leaning back in chairs, slouching against walls, draped across desks with a lazy grin. His eyes were sharp, always scanning, like he half-expected someone to come at him with trouble. Or snacks. (Either was fine.)

When he laughed, it was loud, wild, infectious—the kind that cracked even the tensest moments wide open. But when he got serious, especially when it came to protecting someone, there was a stillness to him. Like a mutt that wouldn't let go of the hand it had chosen to trust.

And then there was Shibata Taiga. Where Kiba was brawn, Taiga was brains—though not the studious kind. More like chaotic, scheming energy bottled up in a leaner frame. His dyed hair always showed dark roots, like he was halfway between rebellion and not caring enough to finish what he started. And his ever-raised eyebrow made it seem like he lived in a constant state of sarcasm. (He did.)

Shorter than Kiba, wirier, and always wearing at least two accessories the school rules banned—maybe a ring, maybe a chain around his neck, usually both. He got Kiba into most of their trouble, but he was also the one who could talk them out of it. Sharp-tongued, quicker-witted, and while he'd talk shit about you to your face, he'd throw himself into a fight if anyone else tried it.

Rumor had it they once fought an entire group of upperclassmen and won. No one knew why. The story changed every time. They probably started it for something stupid. They probably didn't even remember.

You liked them. You didn't always like them. But you trusted them.

The same couldn't be said for the other two, Junpei and Inuzuka.

They were quieter, less flashy, always hanging around the edges. You couldn't quite put your finger on what rubbed you wrong—but there was something about their glances—too quick, too calculating—that made you cautious. Where Kiba and Taiga wore their hearts on their sleeves (and fists), those two kept everything close to the chest. Too close. You weren't sure they'd have your back if things got messy.

You'd put your neck out for Kiba and Taiga. They'd do the same for you. You couldn't say that for the last two.

Inukai-sensei, oddly enough, was one of the few adults the group respected, and the only teacher who you'd listen to. Maybe because he saw right through the "delinquent" facade to what you really were: a bunch of loud, messy kids trying to figure shit out. He never coddled you, but he never judged you either.

Normally, you wouldn't have had an issue with the group stirring trouble—they did it all the time.

But today? Today you had a problem.

Because standing in the middle of the group was none other than Kozume Kenma.

Kenma always looked vaguely annoyed, like the world was a mild inconvenience he'd learned to tolerate. But Kiba's glare and close proximity pulled an extra twitch from his brow—just enough to show he was actually irritated.

Kiba barked, "So? Are you gonna apologize or what?"

"I already did," Kenma said flatly. No fear. No anger. Just cold efficiency.

"Not energetically enough. I wanna hear you loud and clear."

Kenma scoffed, quiet and dismissive, like the whole exchange was beneath him. His fingers twitched around the console in his hands as he tried to retreat into the screen again, attempting to walk past the group.

Kiba knocked the console from his hands. It clattered onto the pavement.

Kenma stared at it, then slowly lifted his gaze to Kiba. The look he shot him was a flash of cold fury that could have cut through steel. You could practically feel the chill that ran down Kiba's spine.

Kiba reached out, hand forming into a fist, ready to grab Kenma by the collar, mouth opening—probably to say something stupid.

"Kenkiba."

Your voice cut through the moment like a blade.

The boys turned. You gave Kiba a tired jerk of your chin. "Leave him alone."

"Huh?! He bumped into me!"

"I heard him say he apologized."

"Well I didn't hear him."

You sighed, stepping closer. "Kibaaaa," you drawled, low and threatening. "Leave him alone."

It made him shift, visibly uncomfortable.

He was scared, you could see it in his stiff shoulders. But he still stared right back at you, defiant.

You sighed again, switching tactics.

"I heard Emi was looking for you."

That got him. He straightened instantly, a blush climbing up his neck like ivy. You felt a little bad using his crush against him—but Kenma needed saving. The idea of Kuroo's best friend vouching against you didn't sit right in your chest.

"She did?"

You nodded, tired. "Yeah... Something about karaoke?"

And just like that, Kiba's brain emptied. Tail practically wagging.

"Where is she?"

You shrugged, smiling. "I dunno. Go look for her before she invites that scum of an ex instead."

It was all it took. The boys wandered off, a chorus of grumbles and last-minute teasing trailing after them.

When the crowd finally left, Kenma knelt to retrieve his console. He picked it up with a tight jaw, inspecting it for damage. His brows were furrowed in quiet irritation as he wiped the screen with the hem of his shirt.

"Sorry about that," you said, quiet but honest.

He glanced up at you, squinting slightly like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn't care to finish.

"I don't need you to protect me."

You shrugged. "I didn't think you did. But it's easier when you have some help, right?"

His mouth pulled into a reluctant scowl, more pout than real anger. Still, he took the tissue you offered without a word.

You watched him clean his console with meticulous care, thumbs brushing lightly over the buttons. His movements were sharp but restrained. His face calm, but you could tell—just barely—he was irritated. Not at you. Not even really at Kiba. Just... at the inconvenience of it all.

"I don't like you," he muttered later, accepting the canned coffee you handed him as an apology.

"I know."

"You'll get Kuro in trouble."

You raised a brow. "Hopefully not."

"And your friends suck."

You exhaled, sitting beside him on the bench. "They're not that bad. Once you get to know them."

Kenma didn't respond, just stared at you, quiet and still.

You tapped the can against your thigh before continuing.

"Taiga? The dyed one? He has a soft spot for animals. Feeds the school's stray cats. He got detention once for sneaking a sick puppy into the nurse's office. Swears he doesn't care. Totally does."

Kenma glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

"And Kiba..." you chuckled. "He was late to a hangout once because he found a first-year crying behind the gym. He didn't say anything—just sat with him until he was done. Turned out the kid was getting bullied. Kiba swore he didn't beat the bullies up, but his knuckles were a mess when he finally showed up to karaoke. We let him pretend like he isn't a big softie."

"Why are you telling me this?"

You shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I just want you to know not everything is what it looks like."

He studied you for a beat, his expression somewhere between curious and mildly annoyed—before shifting his gaze to the horizon.

"Huh... I still don't like you."

You shrugged with a smile.

"I know. You'll see I'm not that bad eventually."

He didn't answer. Just looked away and took a slow sip of his coffee.

Then, after a beat—quietly:

"I don't want to owe you a favor."

You tilted your head. "So you admit I did you a favor?"

Kenma rolled his eyes so hard you almost laughed.

"You're just like Kuro."

You snorted and pulled your wallet from your bag.

"Nah, he's smarter than me. Here." You handed him 3000 yen.

Kenma stared at it like the money might bite him. You chuckled and shook the bills a little.

"Give this to him? It's for tomorrow's tutoring. That way you won't owe me anything."

He took the money cautiously, unsure whether this counted as a trap or a transaction.

You drank the rest of your coffee in a somewhat comfortable silence, letting him study you. You could feel his eyes flick toward your profile now and then, measuring, analyzing, trying to figure out where exactly you fit on his mental chart of tolerable people.

It wasn't judgment, exactly. More like curiosity disguised as apathy.

Eventually, he stood and left without saying goodbye.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Emi <3: Did u just pimp me out to Kiba? Not cool (•̀⤙•́ )

Emi <3: Get ur ass to karaoke, we're all here.

You laughed under your breath, slung your bag over your shoulder, and headed for the gates.

It was Thursday afternoon.

The apartment was too quiet now—the kind of quiet that made every creak sound like a dare. You'd lit a cigarette earlier, let it burn in the ashtray untouched, like you were trying to give the room a scent. Something smoky. Sharp. Tangible. You didn't want to feel nervous, but you did—because this time, you weren't just dressing for revenge or seduction.

You were dressing for success.

So you opened the door for him like sin wrapped in cotton. Oversized tee swallowing you whole, no bra, bare thighs flashing underneath, just a hint of gym shorts if he looked hard enough.

Calculated. Deliberate.

You leaned on the doorframe, one brow arched—as if you hadn't been thinking about his mouth on your neck all week.

"Thought you might cancel," you said.

Kuroo didn't blink. Just looked you over slowly, like he had every right to. "You paid me early."

You stepped aside. "Right. Professional."

God, he was so calm.

But you were done waiting. He was smug, in control, keeping you teetering on the edge—tonight, you were going to make him crack.

No textbooks. No pens. No charade. Just you on the living room couch, cross-legged in that oversized tee, eyes locked on the door as he walked in.

He paused. Took one long look, and raised a brow. Cool, unreadable—as if he hadn't been fucking his fist to the thought of you all week.

"You forget the textbook?" he asked.

You smirked. "I think you've drilled enough chemistry into me by now."

"Maybe," he murmured, dropping his bag on the low table. "But exams are close."

You stood slowly from the couch. Sauntered over and straddled his lap before he could even unzip the bag. His hands hovered at your hips, hesitant— But you grabbed his wrists and shoved them higher, guiding them to your waist. Daring him.

"I'm done playing, Tetsurou," you whispered against his mouth. The way you purred his name—slow, dirty, like you were already imagining him inside you—made him fucking growl under his breath.

He laughed, teeth catching his lower lip like he was still trying to hold on. Like he wasn't seconds away from giving it up.

All the mental prep he'd done before getting here? All that resolve he built at practice, all the times he swore he wouldn't fold, all the times he told himself You are not letting her win—already out the fucking window. It was gone the second you opened the door, really. Your eyes, heavy-lidded. Your lips, parted. A siren in cotton and nerve.

Fuck, you were gonna be the death of him.

"You sure you can handle it?" he asked.

"You act like I'm scared of you," you said, cocky as hell. "You're the one always running. Afraid I'll laugh at your size?"

"Oh?" he said, voice slow and smug, hands tightening on your waist like a challenge. "Worried I'll disappoint you?"

You shrugged, feigning boredom even as your pulse pounded like a war drum in your throat. "You haven't impressed me yet."

That did it. The expert provocateur of Nekoma's volleyball team had just gotten played. Ironic.

His grip locked like a trap. In one move, he dragged you down into his lap and kissed you like he was collecting a debt—mouth greedy, tongue deep, teeth catching your lower lip just to hear you gasp. It melted into his mouth, hands threading into his hair, hips grinding against the thick, already-hard bulge straining through his pants.

"You think you're running this?" he murmured against your mouth, one hand dragging down your thigh with deliberate slowness. "That mouth of yours keeps writing checks you can't cash."

"Can't I?" you shot back, yanking his hair until he hissed through gritted teeth. "You're hard every time I breathe too loud."

His breath hitched—then he chuckled. Low and dark. Like he was already ten moves ahead.

"You think I haven't imagined fucking that attitude out of you?" he said, almost conversationally.

You didn't answer. You didn't need to.

His mouth found your throat—hot and biting—teeth grazing your skin like a threat. His hand slipped beneath your shirt, pushing it up in slow, deliberate increments, your body already hot and shaking—exposing you like a secret he intended to learn by heart. Your nails raked down his back, your body betraying every ounce of bravado.

He yanked your shirt off and tossed it aside, pulled back just enough to drink in the sight of you—bare, flushed, his golden eyes dark and greedy.

"Just say you want me," he murmured, voice like velvet stretched over something dangerous.

"Fuck you," you spat, even as your thighs clenched tighter around his hips.

That smirk—the one that always meant trouble—cut across his face.

"Exactly."

He scooped you up like you weighed nothing and dropped onto the couch, keeping you in his lap. His hips surged beneath you, cock grinding against you through his pants. Two fingers slipped into your panties and found your folds—slick and aching.

His breath left him in a hiss. "Goddamn."

He pushed one finger inside, and your body jolted like it had been lit. Then another—stretching you open, curling, finding, his thumb circling your clit like he was testing reactions for later.

"All that attitude and this is what's underneath? Fuck, you're soaked."

You cried out, hips jerking. Barely able to breathe, pleasure coiling tight in your belly.

"Oh god—Kuroo, fuck—"

He cut you off with a filthy kiss, tongue fucking into your mouth while his fingers fucked into your pussy harder, faster—angling just right until your thighs were shaking and your moans melted into his mouth. His palm grinding against your heat until your whole body trembled.

Just when your release was right there—on the tip of your tongue—

He stopped.

You gasped, trembling. "What the fuck—"

He pulled away from you and laid flat across your couch. Eyes dark. Mouth wet. Dangerous.

"You wanted control?" he said, voice low and razor-sharp as he hauled your hips toward his face. "You've got it. Ride my face."

You didn't hesitate. You didn't think. You just moved—got naked, gripped his hair, and straddled his face, sinking down on his tongue with a broken, desperate sound. The way he groaned into your pussy when he tasted you sent a shiver through your spine.

You rolled your hips helplessly against his mouth—slick, shaking—tasting lightning on your tongue, the obscene wet sounds echoing in your bones.

He groaned into you, devoured you. Tongue working you open, lips sucking, dragging along your clit, his moans vibrating straight through your core. The grip on your hips was bruising—keeping you in place, forcing you to take everything he gave.

Your thighs shook as you rode his face, eyes rolled back, moaning so loud you were afraid your neighbors would hear. His tongue flattened and flicked, sucked and swirled, obscene noises pouring from his mouth and yours.

You came hard. Pathetically fast. Screaming his name like you were trying to curse him and beg him in the same breath, thighs locked around his head as his tongue fucked you through it.

But he didn't stop.

Didn't even slow down.

He kept going—licking, sucking, fucking you through the aftershocks, dragging you past the edge of sanity into pure overstimulation.

You squirmed, clawed at his arms, but he held you there until you were babbling nonsense, until your pussy was twitching and fluttering against his mouth.

Finally, he pulled you off his mouth and back into his lap—body limp, lips trembling. 

And that's when you felt it.

Really felt it.

His cock—rock-hard between your thighs.

He was big.

He sat up slowly, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like a fucking savage, like he was savoring the mess he'd made. His golden eyes blazing with something dangerous and hungry, like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

"I'm not done," he whispered.

His zipper came down with a sharp, metallic hiss, and you tried—really fucking tried—not to lose it, even as your blood surged and your knees barely held out long enough for him to shove his pants down.

But there was no fucking way you were giving up control that easily.

He reached for you—quick, instinctive—but you ducked under his arm, shoving him back onto the couch with a smirk that didn't match the chaos between your legs. He let you—head tilted, teeth bared like a predator indulging its prey.

Those cat-like eyes followed your every move—hungry. Unblinking. Waiting for the excuse to pounce.

"Your turn to listen," you said between his legs.

You yanked his pants down to mid-thigh, rough and unceremonious, your palms sliding over the thick heat straining against his soaked boxers. He was already dripping, the fabric clinging, sticky and damp with precum.

Kuroo's jaw ticked. His hands flexed against the couch cushions like he was fighting the urge to grab your throat.

Good.

"Not so smug now, are you?" you murmured, licking a slow, filthy stripe up the length of him through the fabric. You dragged your tongue over the head, felt it twitch violently beneath your mouth.

He groaned, low and wrecked, head dropping back, abs twitching as you mouthed at him again—and yet he didn't lose composure.

Not yet.

You hooked your fingers into his waistband and peeled it down, slow and deliberate, revealing all of him—hard, massive, gorgeous—and fuck, your breath caught.

Your lips hovered over the flushed, leaking head, so close the heat of him made your mouth water.

"Had me aching for days," you whispered. "Maybe it's time you beg."

That did it.

He grabbed you—fast, brutal—lifting and flipping you like you weighed nothing. A blur of motion and you were face-down on the cushions, ass up, thighs quivering—and his cock grinding against your dripping heat.

Then his hand slid between your legs—coating his fingers in your slick before you could curse. You moaned, helpless, spine arching, legs spreading wider like a traitor.

"You wanna act tough?" he growled into your ear, voice all gravel and heat. "Then why do you melt the second I touch you?"

"Fuck you—"

"You'd love that."

He lined up behind you, dragging the fat head of his cock through your folds, rubbing over your swollen clit again and again until your hips were jerking backward, chasing it, clenching around nothing, desperate to take him in—but his hand clamped hard at your waist.

"You're gonna behave," he murmured against your ear, smug and sharp. "Or I'll edge you until you cry."

You whimpered—pathetic and honest—and that bastard grinned against your skin and kissed the back of your neck like a reward.

Then he pushed in, slow and deliberate, like he had all day to ruin you. Each inch a taunt, a lesson. You choked on a curse, and he groaned—long and low—as he bottomed out.

"Oh my god," you choked out. "You're such a—"

SMACK!

His palm hit your ass—sharp, controlled. Not cruel. But dominant enough to make you gasp and clench around him like a vice.

"Keep running your mouth," he said, "let's see where it gets you."

Then he moved.

Hard. Brutal. Unrelenting.

Relentless. Perfect rhythm. Every thrust designed to ruin you.

Still—you fought back.

Still rolled your hips. Still matched his rhythm. Still snarled through your moans.

"Thought you were gonna break me," you rasped, voice shredded. "I'm still standing."

"You're shaking," he grunted—pleased.

He wasn't wrong. But you didn't stop. You twisted under him, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and yanked him down into a kiss so messy, so fucking desperate, your teeth clacked.

"I'm not tapping out," you growled against his lips.

His laugh curled dark and smug against your lips. "You will."

Then he flipped you again, shirt finally coming off—muscles taut, eyes wild. Your legs hooked over his shoulders. He slammed back in, deep enough to make you scream.

Your back arched, fingers scraping angry red lines down his arms.

"Say my name," he snarled.

You bit your lip. Refused. Really tried not to.

But then his hand snaked between your thighs—thumb zeroing in on your clit with ruthless precision, stroking you in tight, devastating circles, perfectly timed with his hips—and you broke.

"FUCK—Tetsurou—don't stop—!"

He silenced you with a kiss, messy and needy, one hand wrapping around your throat—not choking, just holding—like a leash.

"You like being fucked stupid, don't you?" he panted, voice thick, messy. "Fuck—such a sl—"

You slapped a hand over his mouth, your fingers trembling but firm, and he immediately stopped. His eyes went wide—shocked, chest heaving.

"No." You whispered, voice soft but unshakable. "Not that."

Immediately—he shifted.

Tension eased from his jaw. The glint in his eyes softened.

He blinked, like he'd just realized he'd gone too far.

Then—softness.

He kissed your palm, slow and grounding. Turned his head to press his lips to your wrist—an apology in motion.

"Okay," he murmured, voice hoarse. "Got it."

He braced himself beside your head on his forearm. He let out a heavy breath, and you felt his cock twitch—even deeper in this angle, but tender in a way that made your chest ache.

When he moved again, it was still rough—but different.

Intentional.

He wasn't just fucking you now.

Only your name on his lips.

He kissed you between each thrust, murmured filthy praise into your skin—so tight, so good, meant for me—until you shattered around him with a cry that bordered on a sob.

But he didn't stop.

He fucked you through it, hands gripping your waist like a lifeline, until he buried his face in your neck, groaning your name like a curse, and pulled out just in time—his release hot and thick across your belly, his entire body trembling as he came undone.

He collapsed on top of you, gasping, drenched in sweat and slick, a mess of tangled limbs and overstimulated nerves.

For a long moment, there was only your breathing.

Then—your voice, hoarse and smug:

"So... what page of the textbook was that again?"

He laughed, breathless, hiding his face in your neck.

"Extra credit," he rasped.

You were still tangled together, skin slick, breaths slowing. His hand rested gently on your hip, thumb tracing soft circles like he hadn't just wrecked you five minutes ago—just to help you clean his mess right after, brushing the hair from your face like it mattered.

You hated that it made you feel... safe.

Your head fell back against the cushions as you tried to gather your thoughts—but they were scattered all over the room like your clothes. Your heart wouldn't stop racing. Not just from the sex—though God, that had been next level—but from him. The way he'd held you after you said no. The way he'd listened without flinching, shifted without hesitation.

It was the bare minimum, yeah—but it was messing with you.

The sudden change from absolute filth to softness was confusing you way more than you'd like to admit.

This wasn't supposed to be real. You were paying him, for fuck's sake. A fun excuse. A hot distraction. A stupid little crush you meant to burn through with one dirty, fast, no-strings fuck.

Not... this.

Not warm hands lingering after. 

Not this soft.

You let your eyes roam over his body as he lay beside you now—chest rising and falling, arm slung over his eyes like he didn't want you to see him. You stared anyway.

You took your time, tracing the sweat-slick curve of his chest, his stomach. Then, inevitably, your gaze returned to his face—beautiful, vulnerable, real. Dangerous in a way you hadn't planned for.

"Don't look at me like that..." he murmured.

"Why? Afraid I'll fall for you?" you replied, voice light, teasing—but not genuine.

He moved his arm to study your expression, eyes sharp.

"Don't worry, smart boy. I'm not that dumb. I know how this works."

He didn't answer. Just looked at you from beneath heavy lashes, unreadable.

For a second, you thought maybe he'd call your bluff. Say something smart. Something cutting. But instead, he just breathed out through his nose—quiet. Nodded once like it didn't bother him.

Like he hadn't felt it too.

Then he sat up—slow and lazy, like he didn't have a single thought in his pretty head.

"Post-nut clarity is a bitch," he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. The words were casual. The tightness in his jaw wasn't. He grabbed his shirt off the floor, buttoning it up without looking at you.

There was a strange silence then. Not quite awkward. Just... thin. Like one wrong word might tear it wide open.

He swung his bag over his shoulder while you lit a cigarette.

"You don't have to walk me out," he said. Not cold, not warm. Neutral. Controlled. Like this was just another Thursday.

You nodded. "Didn't plan to."

He hesitated at the door, back still turned. "See you next session?"

Your chest tightened, but you gave a little shrug. "If you're not too busy solving the mysteries of the universe, sure."

He didn't laugh. Just glanced at you over his shoulder—and for a second, there was something in his eyes you couldn't name.

Then he left.

And that was it.

A conversation that didn't happen. A conversation that maybe should've.

But hey, it wasn't like things could get even more complicated, right?

...Right?

Next chapter↪

tags. @themoreeviltwin @taylordenae @rhea-sylvea @iluvikeu @tgnvhp @adangerousbalance @orphicarchive taglist open! let me know in the comments ♡

[sl-vega]

SWEET N' SOUR ! - a scaramouche celebrity smau

-> PROLOGUE; all because I liked a boy

additional notes:

HI HI

i wanted to post this chapter yesterday but i'm SUPER sick right now so staring at a screen was basically a death sentence for me

so to make it up to you guys I wanted to make this chapter longer than I originally wanted it to be!

i was debating whether I wanted to release to prologue or the profiles first, but seeing as how scara's fg isn't relevant yet (and how y/n's entire gc was shown in the second teaser, I decided on uploading the prologue first!

and part of me also want you guys to guess some of the irl equivalents to some of the characters here!

aka half of them

only half of y/n friend group (including y/n mind you) are essentially au versions of another celebrity/semi famous person

so leave your guesses in my ask box/comments!

anyways LMAO other random notes

while this smau won't be an exact one to one of how the music industry works (ie me taking creative liberties with fontinalia being based off of broadway records even though it functions VERY differently from the source) I do like to include accurately depicted parts of it when I can!

when Beidou was talking about qixing showing an interest in y/n, the A&R team that she mentioned is a very real part of any record label!

A&R stands for artists and repertoire, and it's basically a fancy term for talent scouts who find new artists to sign to the label they work for!

anyways lmao this was a VERY long a/n, so thanks for reading all that if you did

as per usual, taglist is always open and please let me know if you want to have a cameo as a fan username (and thank you to all the people who let me use their's as fans in this chapter!)

also let me know if any of y'all are comfortable with being scara haters, venti can't keep doing the work for you

˚୨୧⋆｡ synopsis:  the bright lights of fame and fortune aren’t for everyone, and you’re starting to think you’re part of that majority. You just can’t seem to catch a break! Every movie you’re in goes straight to DVD, every album you drop just barely gets any streams. From child star to sub par popstar, it seems clear that the world has some kind of vendetta against you and you love to blame it on a certain rising musical sensation; Scaramouche. Thanks to your godforsaken luck you happened to go out with the wrong guy at the wrong time because he just so happened to be Scaramouche’s ex, next thing you know you wake up to truck loads of death threats, your record label dropping you, AND a whole album labelling you as the ‘other woman’! After what seemed like a never ending onslaught of straight bullying and harassment, you had long since retreated from the limelight, the only thing left from your music career being ever so occasional covers on YouTube that only your few close friends watched religiously. However, after writing a heartfelt original piece and uploading it from your humble bedroom, it goes viral! A single song has thrusted you head first into stardom once more, and face to face with the person you ruined it for you.

<- prev ll masterlist ll next ->

🍬 (open) taglist: @shrii-kk @freyao7 @analiee6 @thetwinkims @bellflower1257 @blvdmrcnry @bloukoup @yuan1819 @yourstrulymauki @fungaltoehehe @enrions @atlatcaheart @mywillt0live @myeomiz @adornavia @automaticpatroltragedy @scaraenthusiast1 @sesamemin @syunifu @blueberrybxba @fishii28 @a-sorrowful-tune @emvss @jiminscarmex @mwaiu @lloversss @d4y-dr3am3r @usagiarchive @idaissupercool @raytoebiter @lizzie-harper @anqelkoz @blue-moonies @lalalaloveallmydays @jinjjjia

[billyboyblue]

Ran out of tags 🫤

if derek hale dont get behind stiles stilinski and jerk him off right now omfg

[auroragreenvale]

People Watching - JJ Maybank

They met in class for metaphysical philosophy, he tells his friends I like her ‘cause she’s so much smarter than me

OR How you and JJ met

Summary: A look into different points of JJ and reader's relationship inspired by People Watching by Conan Gray. 3k words

***

A/N: I loveee this song especially the opening verse and I always loved picturing the people that inspired it. The chapters wont follow the order of the lyrics. I hope y'all enjoy :)

***

“Dude look what is this shit?” He smacked the paper before holding it out to Pope. He took hold of it, looking over each class listed in his friend’s schedule for the upcoming year until he found the so-called “shit” JJ was referring to: Philosophy. Pope let out a chuckle the moment he registered the word and looked over at his friend, amused. “Pope, man this isn’t funny they must’ve messed up my schedule and shit! I can’t take this class, man!” Pope could only continue to laugh, catching Kiara’s attention. She grabbed the paper out of Pope’s hand and quickly displayed the same reaction as him. 

“Wow JJ I had no idea you were such a scholar! An intellectual if you will?”

“Shut up Kie!” JJ rolled his eyes as his friends’ laughter died down, ready to show a little sympathy. 

“Look JJ,” Pope started, “It really isn’t that big a deal. This stuff happens just go talk to the counselor and get it fixed, easy.”

“Yeah alright… gimme that,” JJ snatched back his class schedule before roughly folding it and putting it into his pocket. He’d probably remember to look at it again before the first day. Probably.

***

To JJ, school was the single biggest waste of his time. He sat through stupid classes all day, missing out on prime surfing time. And what’s worse, it’s not like he could smoke a joint in the middle of history, much less chat with any of his friends in English. He was just glad to have guaranteed easy classes that required close to nothing on his end. That and the knowledge that he didn’t have parents riding his case about his education or caring about his future allowed him to ignore the nuisance that was school once he left the building. But being put in philosophy did not work into his plan. Philosophy was for the smart people. Like Pope smart. Maybe even smarter and JJ definitely considered himself a lot less smart than Pope. JJ took the classes that were required of him and absolutely nothing else. The people who took philosophy probably finished half of their requirements in middle school and overloaded on classes with specific topics because they were actually interested in them. He shuddered at the thought of more school as he entered his next class. Seven students sat at the various desks, not even filling half of them. JJ thought maybe the rest of the class was running late but he thought it was weird that everyone there currently sat toward the front of the room. His other classes were always full and people had no issue sitting in the very back row even if the one closest to the teacher had yet to be filled. But JJ was a master at blending in of course and even though he planned to get out of this class by tomorrow, he could still have fun pretending to be one of the smart kids. He slid into the last empty seat in the second row, looking around and observing his temporary classmates. His brow furrowed in confusion when he noticed them all with faces in books or scribbling away in their notebooks. How were they doing work before the bell had even rung? He slid down slightly in his seat letting his head hang down in the direction of his empty desktop, hoping to divert attention away from himself so as not to blow his cover and ruin his little game. His hand came up to the side of his face, blocking it from the others in his row as he waited for the dreaded class to begin. 

“Hi!” The sound came from the desk next to him. He lowered his hand and looked over at the girl sitting there. “...I… haven’t seen you before, I’m Y/N.”

“Oh well… I typically take a lotta... math... classes so this is kinda… new for me,” he tested out.

“Oh me too! Maybe we’ll have some more classes together.” You smiled at him warmly.

“Mmm yeah maybe,” he smiled, amused at the possibility, “I’m JJ.”

“Nice to meet you. Glad to have you in class JJ.” Again he smiled, you reading it as politeness when he really was trying to hold back laughter. Finally the bell rang signaling the beginning of class and JJ realized no other students had entered the room. If the first bell took that long to sound, he knew it would take an eternity before the last one would sound, ending his philosophy career and his misery. 

***

“You’re kidding me what!? What do you mean there’s no other classes??” JJ yelled, ignoring that he was in the administrative office. 

“Please keep it down Mr. Maybank. What I mean is that all the other classes at that time are full so we can’t move you out of your current class.”

“Ughh! … Yall messed this up, you gotta fix it!”

“I’m sorry JJ but there’s nothing I can do.”

“Okay but you don’t understand I can’t spend the whole semester in this class its for like the genius kids! I can’t do that shit!”

“Mr. Maybank please watch your language. And as for these ‘genius kids’ I suggest you talk to one of them about tutoring you.” At that JJ threw his head back and groaned as he exited the office and made his way outside to join his friends for lunch. They immediately noticed his dramatic expression as he approached. 

“Whats up J,” Kiara asked slowly. 

“This bullshit! They said they can’t take me outta that stupid class!”

“Wait you mean philosophy? You have to stay in it all semester,” Pope asked. JJ nodded.

“And what’s worse they said I should get a fucking tutor! Like I’m gonna go outta my way and do more school when I’m not even at school,” JJ shook his head, “I think I’ll just go ahead and fail.”

“Hate to break it to you man but if you fail it they’ll probably make you retake it over the summer.”

“Pope dude are you serious?” He nodded. “Fuuuck.” Kiara patted his shoulder, looking amused.

“Well uh, guess you’re getting a tutor.”

***

JJ walked into his second day of philosophy and slumped down in the seat next to yours. Blowing out a breath, he reluctantly looked over at you, preparing to ask you the dreaded question. You gave him a small smile.

“So uh… do you like… tutor people ever? For a friend! He’s… he’s looking for a… tutor.” Your smile grew, knowing where this was going. 

“Oh yeah I do what does your, uh friend need tutoring in?”

“This class!-- Well not this… class but you know this subject.”

“Mmm okay well I’d be willing to be your friend’s study buddy, help ‘em out.”

“Okay cool cool.... Cool. That's real uh cool of you.” You giggled. 

“Cool,” you answered sarcastically. This made JJ laugh softly, dropping his charade.

“Yeah so uh… should we get crackin’ like today I-- I think that would… be good. And do we… me at… the library or…?”

“Um we could or we could just go to my place if that's better?”

“Okay yeah… yeah sure that's good I’ll uh, meet you after school?”

“Sounds good.” He mirrored the smile you gave him before you both turned to face the front of the class where the teacher stood.

***

“JJ come on, the final’s in two weeks you need to get some more work done on your paper so you can start reviewing in time.”

“But dude. This paper is so stupid I do not care about any of these old guys’ theories.”

“Okay but you know them, I know ‘cause I helped you learn them, so pick one and write something about it.” JJ groaned in his usual dramatic fashion making both of you laugh. You shoved him lightly, telling him to write which he eventually began to do. When you had finished up your own essay you turned your attention to what JJ had started writing. You read over the beginnings of his essay a couple of times.

“JJ! This is good. These ideas are really good!”

“Well don’t sound so surprised,” he joked.

“I just mean I figured you had nothing since you didn’t want to write it so bad. But this is good, keep going and we can polish it up.”

“For real?”

“Yeah I’m really proud of you.” It was a simple statement and you quickly turned your attention to work for your other classes. But JJ let his gaze linger on you for a few seconds longer, a small smile on his lips. No one had ever said they were proud of him before. At least not that he could remember and definitely not when it came to smart stuff like this. He felt his heart expand hearing those words and he wondered how it would feel to hear them again. And again. He hoped he might do something else deserving of someone’s pride again. It made him feel taken care of in the way he tries to take care of his friends and it felt good to be on the other side of that kind of affection. He turned his attention back to his work and for the first time in his education, felt some motivation.

“No listen John B she’s like, so smart it's like cool! She might even be smarter than Pope and he’s probably the smartest person I know.” In his modesty, Pope let out a loud laugh, thinking JJ must have pretty low standards for intelligence if he was on the smartest end. “Pope what the hell is funny man?” This made Kiara snicker as well. JJ’s friends were all amused at how serious he seemed to be about this, all seeing what he couldn’t.

“Uh, JJ it sounds like you might have a little crush,” John B said. 

“Shit,” JJ said, brushing off the notion. “Fuck,” he said more quietly in realization in disbelief. His friends continued their quiet giggling at his apparent predicament. 

“You gonna… you gonna ask her out or what? I mean you’ll only be in class together for another what, two weeks? And I doubt you’ll ever be in one of her classes again so,” Pope laughed. 

“Shut up man I could be, I'm doing pretty good.”

“I’m sorry could any of you imagine JJ dating this apparent genius girl,” Kiara laughed at the images it brought to her mind.

“Yeah I don’t know if she’d be down to date like a surfer dude,” John B changed his voice to mock his friend. 

“Or she’d be like studying or something and you’re all,” Kiara also took on a ridiculous voice, “‘Hey babe wanna hit,’” she mimicked blowing out smoke and took on a stoner persona that they all knew was incredibly far off from JJ. But they still found it funny.

“You guys are the fucking worst and I’m gonna ask her out and you’re all gona feel like idiots okay,” JJ said holding both of his middle fingers up for all of his still amused friends to see. 

“Just invite us to the wedding okay,” Kiara mocked, earning a shove from her friend as she fell out laughing. 

***

“Hey I wanna… say, ya know thanks for helping, uh my friend out with this class,” JJ said trying to bring you back to the beginning of the semester with this class. You closed your book figuring it was time for a break. You gave JJ a tired smile that was nonetheless bright. He almost rolled his eyes when he smiled back just as big remembering how his friends noticed his feelings before he did and hating them being right. 

“Well he was a pretty… okay study buddy,” you joked back. JJ let out a breathy laugh.

“Just okay?”

“Well you’re pretty easily distracted but you do keep it fun. So better than okay I guess. And you really impressed me this semester. You’re a lot smarter than you think.” When JJ recalls this moment he can only assume he blushed a bright pink at your genuine statement and the look in your eyes. Thinking about it, he still wants to melt in both embarrassment and somehow happiness. He quickly changed the subject.

“Gonna be weird not seein’ each other all the time huh?” He had really gotten used to seeing you everyday, enjoying the time he spent with you even if it was filled doing activities he didn’t so much enjoy. 

“Yeah.” You paused. “...No one in my classes is ever as,” you searched for the right word but couldn’t find it, “...fun as you.” 

“Well no one in my classes is ever so damn smart like you,” he replied, “But uh, I was wondering did you maybe wanna hang out sometime? Like no studying or anything?”

“Yeah I would, yeah. Let’s do that,” You smiled at him and then opened your textbook again, eyes going down to the words you knew you would no longer be able to focus on. 

***

JJ stood in front of the small bathroom mirror in the Chateau fluffing and fixing his hair over and over, indecisive. He wore his least dirty pair of boots and had borrowed one of John B’s less loud button down shirts. He topped it with a jacket. He felt a little weird but he hoped you’d think he looked nice in the clothes that were slightly nicer than what he typically wore to school. He smoothed back his hair one more time and ran his hand through it once. He settled on that. At least it was clean and dry, an improvement from the usual. He drove the Twinkie to your place, a very familiar route by now. When he arrived he paused in the driver's seat. Did he text you he was here or did he go up and knock? Was that what people did to pick up a friend or just dates? You hadn’t said this was a date. And what if one of your family members answered the door? He let out a breath and opened the car door before he could stop himself. He walked up to the door and knocked. He waited almost a moment too long, beginning to contemplate going back to the car and texting you when you opened the door grinning. You were actually really excited to hang out with JJ and get to know him more without homework and studying. You had enjoyed his company over the semester. JJ smiled and felt relief when you appeared and then suddenly felt self conscious. You looked exactly like yourself and he was wearing someone else's clothes. So fucking stupid. He tried to push it out of his mind as you greeted each other and he walked you to the Twinkie. As you both almost arrived at the driver's side of the car, he had the idea to open your door for you. He stopped awkwardly and abruptly, confusing you, as he changed direction to go around the front of the van. He opened the door for you and you got in thanking him. You showed little confusion, just a small smile, as you were used to his odd actions at this point. JJ got in the car, turned up the music and began driving. He felt nervous as shit. He spent the entire semester with you and now you were causing him to act like an idiot. And this wasn’t even a date! What was wrong with him? He clutched the top of the steering wheel and glanced over at you quickly before he started speaking.

“So uh I was thinking we could maybe get some food over at The Wreck? That… that cool?”

“Yeah that sounds good,” you responded. JJ didn’t really love the idea of going to the place Kie’s parents owned and she worked there. He’d be surprised if he didn’t see his dumbass best friends there trying to spy on his date. If they all weren’t, Kie would definitely be working there, and have prime position to embarrass him. But she did offer to cover half the bill and it was a hot spot. JJ figured it would look good and maybe earn him another date. Or a first real one actually. God he just hoped he wouldn't blow it. Another date with you, even if only one more sounded like a great deal to JJ, and he needed to do everything possible to make it happen.

***

You sat in the passenger seat of the van that JJ had informed you was called the Twinkie. The conversation lulled as he drove the car up to your house and in that moment of silence, realization dawned on you. Your brows scrunched as you tried to make sense of the thought that had appeared in your mind. JJput the car in park and you turned to him before he could say anything. You took a breath. 

“JJ? Was this a date?” You asked it with hesitation but more confidence than you expected to come through your words. JJ turned to you, caught off guard, but quickly painted on his signature playful smirk.

“Did you want it to be,” he asks. You almost rolled your eyes. 

“JJ,” you repeated more sternly this time. You really wanted to know his answer. “Was this a date?” His face softened and his expression changed from the confident boy most knew well to almost bashful. You decided you liked that look on him.

“I was kinda hoping it could be.” He looked up at you at the end of his statement and mustering all of his confidence leaned in. It happened quickly. He touched his lips briefly to yours in a soft kiss. It was so delicate that it stole your breath, making you dizzy. He pulled away before you could even process that moment. He looked at you, eyes closed and bottom lip between your teeth to suppress a smile. You took a deep breath in. 

“Definitely a date then.” You opened your eyes slowly.

“That cool with you,” JJ asked, growing nervous. You nodded flashing that smile that JJ already found intoxicating. 

“I’m hoping you can… take me on another one?”

“Yeah of course.”

“Okay,” you said. You leaned over quickly, mirroring his actions, and placed a kiss on his cheek. Just as quickly, you exited the car with one more look back at the boy. With your back to him as you unlocked your door, he let out a cheer before speeding off. You smiled to yourself as you entered your house and JJ grinned his whole way home.

[crimsonprose]

Coffee and Dessert (part one)

lottie matthews x natalie scatorccio

married!lottie x homewrecker!Nat

summary: self-explanatory

643 words

warnings: NSFT, 18+, cheating

-----------------------------------

When Lottie had asked her to come over for coffee and dessert, Nat had never expected to meet her husband. 

And yet, here she sits next to Lottie, at the supposedly ‘happy’ couple’s kitchen table, finishing off her tiramisu and trying to pretend like there’s nothing awkward about this at all, while he sits stirring his coffee across from them. 

“Where did you two meet again?” he asks, for what feels like the dozenth time.

“High school, babe,” says Lottie. “We played soccer together.”

“Oh right,” he says. 

And part of Natalie wants to punch him right in the teeth, because she knows she’s the one Lottie should be calling ‘babe’, but she’s too busy secretly rubbing the inside of Lottie’s thigh to worry about that right now. 

Lottie still has her slacks on, so she can only run her fingers along the outside of the fabric— but she’ll take care of that problem later, once he leaves. 

Fucking christ, she hopes he leaves soon. 

“In fact,” Lottie says next, “I was thinking about showing Nat my memorabilia box from high school while she’s here. You wouldn’t mind, would you, hun? We might be a while. You know how us girls get when we haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

He doesn’t have a fucking clue, and Nat can see it all over his face. The dumbass really thinks they’re just long lost friends, having an innocent catch up. She almost feels sorry for him, except she doesn’t. 

Earlier that day, when Nat had run into her at the grocery store, Lottie had told her he hadn’t been able to make her cum in almost ten years. 

Pathetic bastard should have put in a little more effort, as far as Nat’s concerned. 

Lottie takes her hand and stands from the table, urging her to do the same. Her fingers feel so warm as they intertwine with Nat’s— and the blatant way she lets him see them holding hands makes Nat smile. It takes everything in her not to shoot him a ‘haha’ look on her way out. 

Part of her wonders if Lottie enjoys this— dangling her right in front of his face in plain sight. It seems like she does. But Nat isn’t worried about that right now either. That’s his problem. 

All she wants to do right now is fuck Lottie in the way she truly deserves. 

Lottie takes her down a long hallway, never letting go of her hand. The bedroom they finally enter is obviously a guest room, simply furnished with a double bed and a nightstand. Nat notices that she locks the door behind her. 

“You didn’t tell me he’d be home,” says Nat, looking her up and down like a meal about to be devoured. 

Lottie’s already unbuttoning her silk blouse and biting down on a smile. “Is it a problem?”

Nat’s already taking off her leather jacket. “Not for me.”

The leather jacket drops with a thud behind Nat, revealing a black tank top with no bra underneath. Her hands immediately reach out and start unbuckling the belt on Lottie’s slacks. 

“We might have to be quick though,” says Lottie next, letting her blouse fall to the floor. 

She’s not wearing a bra either. Jesus, how fucking delicious. 

With the belt now undone, Nat unzips her slacks and slides one hand inside them, beneath her underwear. Lottie hasn’t shaved recently, but Nat’s fingers slip easily through the soft curls to find her clit, which hardens at her touch. 

She hears Lottie quietly gasp and gives her a grin.  

“Do you want this rough or soft?” Nat asks.  

Lottie’s breath has already gone shallow, and she has to take a pause before answering, but she never takes her hungry, half-lidded eyes off Nat. Not for a second. 

“I want your mouth,” she finally breathes out. 

--------------------------------------------------

*to be continued . . . (maybe?) let me know if y'all want more

[cowboyemeritus]

Il Suo Campione (Copia/Reader)

Chapter Seven

Series Masterlist

Summary: An exhibition match.

Warnings: violence, blood, descriptions of injury, gang violence, death

Read on AO3

Notes: i was originally going to have this chapter end somewhat differently but for the purposes of Plot changed my mind, so if parts are clunky... whoops. not sure how i feel about this one.

thanks again everyone! i'm glad y'all are enjoying the story so far. y'all are so sweet :)

feedback is always welcome!

Copia has the uncanny ability to get people to do what he wants. You probably wouldn’t be in this position if not. Maybe that white eye is magic, imbued with the power to bend others to his will. If that’s the case, then it’s no wonder the Emeritus Family has been able to carve out such a large slice of the city for themselves in only a few decades.

Whatever… gift Copia has, whether it be luck, natural charm, or some sort of animal magnetism, it’s at work tonight. The noise from the crowd is thunderous, bouncing off the walls of the old gym and magnifying to an almost intolerable degree. Based on the sound alone, this is for sure a new attendance record. Under normal circumstances, that would be enough to satisfy him for the night, regardless of the outcome of the fight.

He’s trying not to look nervous, leg bouncing as he sits on a folding chair nestled between his two brothers. You’re not the only one who notices. Secondo nudges Copia in the side, uttering something to him. One of the bookies passes by, obscuring your view so that you can’t read his lips. When Secondo looks back up, your eyes accidentally meet. A chill runs down your spine.

“He can be rather aggressive when he is upset about something,” Copia explained over breakfast after your trip to The Pinnacle. “I don’t know what set him off.”

You have to tear your gaze away from the second Emeritus brother, your skin crawling. Instead, you look to Copia. There’s still nervous tension on his face, but when he sees you he forces a smile, throwing you a little wave before sitting back in the chair and doing his best to look nonchalant.

“I promise you did nothing wrong, cara. You were perfect. Me?” He sighed, poking at a piece of pancake. “Do you think I sold them on it?”

The pressure is on, just as much for him as is it for you. Awkwardly, you wave back.

Terzo has been chatting with his guests, Cumulus and the silver-haired woman you saw dancing. Why either of them would want to be here is beyond you. His younger brother’s restlessness catches his attention. Seeing that Copia’s eyes are still on you, he turns and shoots you a wink. You cringe, the taste of licorice and bile burnt into your memory. Now, with three pairs of green and white eyes trained on you, you’re starting to feel a little uneasy.

The bell rings.

You’re half-listening to the announcer prattle on about this evening’s show, checking and double-checking your wraps to make sure they’re secured. When he steps back you know it’s time to go, rising from your seat in one of the corners, your opponent mirroring you. Through the building rush of adrenaline, you feel anxiety, like pins and needles, in your stomach. This woman is at least a head taller than you. Unlike legitimate boxing, there are no weight classes here. Although, as Copia says, it makes for a better show when the fighters are evenly matched, that isn’t always feasible. Sometimes, you just have to put your head down and fight whoever’s in front of you, even if it means getting your shit rocked.

This isn’t one of those times, though. Copia is counting on you tonight.

Your opponent is bouncing on the balls of her feet as you approach, the two of you sizing each other up. From between her raised fists you can sort of get a look at her, something you neglected to do before. She’s pretty in a rugged sort of way, with well-sculpted muscle and bronze skin like an well-polished statue. A valkyrie, versus the feral animal thing you’ve got going on. She looks down at you with sympathy, maybe even a little pity, in her eyes. Both of you know this match-up isn’t fair.

“No hard feelings, yeah?” You respond by throwing the first punch. She’s able to tilt her head to the side in time, the blow glancing off her cheek. Again you swipe at her, and this time she blocks you with a raised arm. When your fist connects, she doesn’t budge at all. She’s rock solid.

You dance around each other for the rest of the first round. Your opponent takes a few swings at you, but you’re able to dodge them. Still, her speed is worrisome. At the beginning of the second round you go to block a punch and her fist connects with your left wrist. Something pops. If it’s supposed to hurt, the pain is drowned out by the blood racing through your veins.

You certainly feel it the next time she gets you, socking you right in the eye with fifteen seconds left in the round. The full force of the impact is brutal, momentarily throwing you off balance. As you stumble she’s able to hit you twice more, each blow harder than the last. With the first punch you feel your teeth cut the inside of your cheek. When she hits you again you’re able to turn your head to the side, your brow ridge taking the brunt of it. The skin splits, and blood begins to pour down your face, hot and sticky. It gathers in the grooves around your already swelling eye, making it nearly impossible to see.

The round ends with a heavy, uneasy feeling settling into your gut. Even considering the size difference, you’re performing poorly. It’s not like you to be this jittery. Taking a short, life-giving sip of water, it does little to wash away the coppery taste in your mouth. As you’re catching your breath and trying to steel yourself, Copia ducks under the ropes, a washcloth in hand. You simultaneously wish he’d go away and wrap you his arms. You’re angry at him for putting you in this position, and yet you can’t help but want to please him. He needs you. It’s hard to look at him as he wipes away the blood gumming up your eye; he’s trying to play it off but you can tell by the slight scrunch of his eyebrows that he’s nervous. Neither of you say anything, and the break ends dreadfully soon.

You go into round three with a plan: evasion. Move around as much as possible and tire her out. Not a strategy you’d normally opt for, but these are desperate times. The bell chimes and she comes at you fast, leaving you scrambling to avoid her. When the opportunity presents itself you take it, ducking under her arm to hit her in the torso. Your wrist complains with each blow that lands but you ignore it, the rush starting to take over. Miraculously, you go to fake her out and she falls for it, giving you a clear shot. You deliver a vicious right hook to her face and her nose immediately begins gushing blood. She pays you back in kind almost instantly but you’re so caught up in a sense of smug satisfaction that it hardly fazes you.

All you needed to do was turn the gas on. This is fine, actually. You can do this.

You go blow-for-blow until the last thirty seconds of round four. The laceration on your eyebrow is still bleeding and no matter how many times you wipe the blood away, you end up blind in that eye. Both of you are sweaty and breathing hard, keen to make the other drop as soon as possible and finish this. You’re trying to focus on making that happen, planning your next strike, but it’s hard now that your vision has started to go double. The sense of urgency builds inside you, your heart hammering as you fight to control your breathing.

The mat beneath you is soaked with blood and sweat. Trying to evade one of your opponent’s blows, you step in one of the small puddles, your foot nearly sliding out from beneath you. It’s all the opportunity she needs. Before you can even raise a fist in defense she swings, catching you in the jaw. The roar of the crowd is only surpassed by the thump of your pulse. Like carrion birds, they can sense the end drawing near. Your vision narrows as you stumble, black spots dancing around the room.

The round is almost over. You can make it through this. You have to make it through this.

You’re off balance, swaying as you try and plant your feet again. The gym is spinning. If you could just lay down, even for a second, you’re certain you could make it stop. You don’t dare look at the time, not when your opponent is so close. Why won’t the round end already?

She steps towards you. You can see her clear as day, but your brain, fogged up, is light-years behind. By the time you register what’s going on, her fist is already coming at you. The best you can do is turn your head to the side. You can feel the nerves light up as she makes contact by your ear, but you’re already unconscious before the real pain sets in.

I am a fool. A miserable, pathetic fool.

The crowd goes wild as you crumple to the ground. Those who bet right scream with excitement, while others groan and hang their heads.

How could I do this?

When presented with the size difference between you and your opponent, Copia had turned his head. It didn’t matter. He thought — he knew — you would be victorious. You always are. And what a better way to win over his brothers than by taking down someone twice your size? Everyone loves an underdog.

Things had gotten off to a rocky start, but you were turning it around. What happened?

The count begins. Perhaps you’ll get up. It’s happened before, you rising like the dead to claim your rightful victory. It’s unlikely, given the way your body fell limp, like a rag-doll, but Copia clings to that hope nonetheless, riding the edge of his seat. If anyone can pull it off, it’s you. It’s his campionessa.

One, two, three-

“Come on, girl,” he hears Cumulus murmur. “Get up.”

Four, five, six-

“Get up!” From the seat next to him, Secondo scoffs.

Seven, eight, nine-

Terzo places a gentle hand on Copia’s shoulder.

Ten.

He sighs. “That is really too bad, fratellino.”

There’s a sinking feeling in Copia’s stomach, like he’s falling over the edge of some vast, inescapable chasm. Disappointed and more than a little regretful, he sits, overthinking, as the crowd begins to disperse. He can still salvage this, he just needs to-

“She’s still not moving,” Mist observes. Copia is torn away from his train of thought. In the ring, a small crowd is gathering around your prone form, more than a few people looking expectantly in his direction.

“Shit,” he mutters, immediately rising from his seat. “Shit.” Every atom of his being screams at him to run to you, but he knows he can’t. He has to maintain the usual illusion of calm and detachment. It’s a performance he puts on not only for his clients, but for himself. He settles for a hurried jog. His heart pounds, not from the exertion, but with fear at what he might find beyond the ropes.

What have I done?

You’re lying flat on your back. If not for the blood on your face, still gushing from your eyebrow, you could be asleep. The referee is trying, with no success, to rouse you, lightly tapping your cheek with a flattened hand. Your victorious opponent is surrounded by a gaggle of admirers, but observes out of the corner of her eye with clear concern. She’s more sportsmanlike than you, that’s for certain.

Copia comes to kneel by your side. He jostles you with a hand on your shoulder but still you remain unconscious. Anxiety, like a hot iron, pokes and prods the inside of his stomach.

“Dolcezza.” He shakes you again. “You have to get up.” For a moment he’s considering blowing the lid off this whole operation and calling for an ambulance but you groan, eyes cracking open. You squint hard under the old fluorescent lights, like you’re looking directly into the sun. “Oh, meno male.”

You perk up a little more at the sound of his voice. “Papa..?” The ref gives him a suspicious look but says nothing. Copia laughs, suddenly uncomfortable, pulling the washcloth out of his jacket pocket and dabbing at your bloodied face.

“I’m here,” he says, fighting the urge to go full mother hen. “You scared me, cara.” Your eyebrows scrunch together.

“Have to go to work,” you mutter weakly. “Where’s Mary?” There’s a pinprick of something in his chest — he doesn’t dare call it jealousy — at the mention of your brother, but it’s quickly drowned out by worry, bordering on panic. Not good. Not good at all. He scans the crowd of remaining spectators, knowing at least a few of his regulars are doctors. There are none that he recognizes, but he notices Aether placed tactically among the swarm, monitoring the flow of people. A paramedic in his past life, surely there must be something he can do for you. Copia is about to call for him when your opponent approaches. She’s got some welts on her face and twisted cotton balls stuffed in both nostrils, but otherwise looks to be in decent shape. She’s gotten off miraculously easy. He still thinks you could have beaten her.

“Is she okay?” The woman asks, a fearful edge to her voice. You jolt, grimacing as you try to get up. There’s a wild look in your eyes. Copia has to coax you to lay back down, one hand supporting your head, the other pushing down on your shoulder.

“Easy,” he warns. “The fight is over.” The look of confusion on your face transforms into something else. It’s a myriad of emotions: pain, anger, sadness, shame.

“I lost…” Copia nods. Your eyebrows knit even further together as you stare at the ceiling, unable to meet his gaze. “‘M sorry.”

It’s like his heart is being torn from his chest.

“I- No, dolcezza.” This is my fault. I made her do this. I put this pressure on her. “It’s okay.” It’s not entirely a lie. Not knowing what else to say and not having the bandwidth for it, he calls for Aether, shooing everyone else away. This has been enough of a spectacle already.

“Boss.” The large man gives Copia a nod as he ducks under the ropes. He kneels on your other side. “Hey, love.” Copia wants to reprimand him for calling you that, but lets it slide for now. “You got knocked about pretty hard. I’m just gonna check a few things, okay?” Using his thumb and forefinger, he pries one of your eyelids open. Your pupils are blown out, hardly dilating under the harsh light. You grunt, grabbing Aether’s wrist. He easily pries your fingers off, repeating the process with the other eye. It has the same reaction. “You know what day it is?”

“Thursday,” you mumble, sounding more with it and clearly irritated by Aether’s pestering. He nods in approval. Copia has never felt more useless in his life.

“Yeah, that’s it. Very good. Think you can sit up?” You nod, starting to rise from the filthy old mat. Before Aether can try, Copia places a hand on your back to support you the rest of the way up. Your right hand goes to your hairline, fingers massaging the area around your tight braids. The other arm hangs limp by your side. Aether gently picks it up, inspecting your wrist. It’s already deep purple and the shape of it is… wrong. He pokes at where a bone protrudes awkwardly under the skin and you frown at it. “I can pop it back in. ’S gonna hurt, though.”

You give him a skeptical look. “Do it.”

Terzo picks the perfect time to butt in. “Well, fratellino- Ahia!” He recoils as Aether manipulates the joint just right, the bone slipping back into its normal position with an audible crack. You remain unfazed other than a wince. Terzo blinks once, twice, before motioning Copia over. Hesitantly, he obeys, glancing worriedly over his shoulder at you as he heeds his brother’s call. Terzo leans against the ropes, looking up at him with a smug smile. Dread burrows into Copia’s stomach, clawing at his insides like a horde of starving rats.

“Let me guess: just a fluke?” Copia scowls down at his brother.

“As a matter of fact, it was.” He chooses not to mention his part in it. Terzo laughs.

“Always so serious. All of you.” At least he seems sober tonight. There’s a pause, Terzo glancing over to where Aether is triaging you. “I do not know what you see in the girl. No offense — we all have different tastes.” Copia scowls at him harder. Terzo makes a sweeping gesture around the room. “But, I can see the potential in all this.” Relief, like a tidal wave, crashes over him. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from breaking out into an idiotic grin.

“Well, good,” is all he says.

“Secondo left already. He may need more convincing,” Terzo notes. “But I will work on him. Call it a favor, from me to you.”

“That’s fine.” Copia doesn’t like the idea of being indebted to his brother, but he can survive it if this works out.

Terzo claps Copia on the back. “We will be in touch. Go take care of your lady friend.” He’s going to protest the use of that vocabulary but before he can blink he’s gone, collecting his girls. He exchanges a few words with them, at which point Cumulus jogs over.

“We brought this,” she reaches into her purse and pulls out a bright orange sports drink, “for her.” Copia smiles. He goes to take it, grabbing one end, but she holds on tight to the other. Her eyes narrow. “You’re gonna take care of her, right, C?” It’s both a command and a threat. Gulping, he nods.

“Yes, ma’am.” Cumulus lets go of the bottle, smiling sweetly.

“Great! Thanks for having us!” She gives him a quick peck on the cheek before skipping away, turning and waving as she follows Terzo and Mist out the door.

Copia scratches the back of his head. “Yeesh…”

He’s in a much better mood as he returns to you, even when Aether tells him you’re concussed. You’re no longer confused and the cut on your eyebrow has stopped bleeding, but that frustrated, ashamed look in your eyes remains. He tells you the good news as he cleans the blood and sweat from your swollen face, and it seems to elevate your mood the slightest bit. Still dizzy, you lean against Copia for support as you file out of the old gym with the rest of the stragglers. Aether had offered to carry you, but you had politely refused, cheeks pink. Copia is relieved; he likes the weight of you on his arm — substantial, but not overly burdensome. It’s like you were made to be there. He’d be loathe to have anyone else squander that, even someone he trusts as deeply as Aether.

The street is dark and quiet, most of the buildings on it also abandoned. These are the times we live in, Copia thinks, eyes darting from one run-down storefront to the other. We all must steal to survive. That’s not important right now, though. Not when he’s one step closer to realizing his goal, to making the old man acknowledge what he’s done.

Tonight didn’t turn out exactly how he wanted, but this is still a victory. Copia decides he’s in a celebratory mood.

“Do you think you will be able to eat, cara? I was thinking about making-“

About ten yards down the street, a car explodes. The shockwave sends you both tumbling to the ground. Tiny pieces of debris pelt Copia’s back, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s thrown himself on top of you. His ears are ringing. Around you the scene descends into chaos, tires screeching as people begin to flee. The cops will undoubtedly be here soon. He looks down at you, knowing the fall couldn’t have been good for your head. You appear unharmed but are staring, wide-eyed, at a point behind him.

“Are you alright?” You don’t answer. Copia gets up and off of you, turning to see what it is you’re looking at. A man is lying on the scorched pavement, convulsing weakly. Based on the remaining scraps of clothes it’s Diego, one of the bookies longest in his employ. His body is covered in burns and he clutches at his throat, a large shard of glass jutting out between his fingers. Copia turns back to find you fixated on the dying man, eyes glazed over as you watch the lifeblood pour out of his neck. He goes to shake you, but thinks better of it. “Dolce-“

“We need to go,” Aether yells, running over to help you both up. You’re unable to rise to your feet until both men grab your arms and pull. The whole time you remain staring at Diego, who has now stopped moving, tripping over your feet as they drag you across the street to the vehicle you’d arrived in. Copia dives into the back seat with you, scrambling to buckle your seatbelt as Aether throws the already started car into drive. The wreck is in flames as he peels away. That thing had been Diego’s pride and joy. He was a good guy. A wife, a few kids; he was just another person trying to make ends meet.

Copia tries not to think about that, or about how his car was nearly identical to the vehicle you’re riding in right now.

[grumpybunny-edith]

"Hey, uh, can I --"

"Oh gosh, I remember you two!" called the girl from behind the counter of the Hot Topic. I could've sworn her teeth and nails looked a little sharper than last time we met. I could tell she was studying me too, her eyes dancing between my ears to catch any growth. Her eyes got caught on Anabella's wings too, but only for a second. "You got some jeans last time you were here, right? Did your ears get longer?

"Yeah, this is… kinda the only place where I can get stuff that accomodates a tail. Oh, and, um, they tend to do that, yeah," I blushed. About a month ago she had spent like a half-hour helping me find pairs that would fit. I took a deep breath, feeling my tail shake anxiously behind me. Ana giggled at that, which frustrated me, only making it wag more. Why bunnies had to have the most embarrassing tails on the planet was beyond me, but getting to hear it laugh was worth something. I was just thankful the cashier couldn't see.

"It's so shitty how few options y'all get," said the cashier like it had anything to do with her. I turned knowingly to Ana, who just ruffled her feathers and shook its head. "Anyway, can I help you find anything?"

I grinned, trying to hide my anxiety, and held a plastic bag out to her. "I, uh, need to make a return." She took the bag, opened it, and raised an eyebrow.

"Are these not the jeans you just bought like, three weeks ago?"

I blushed and tried to hide behind my ears. They're not quite long enough to do that yet - the best I could do was hide a bit of the blush creeping up from behind my mask. Being covid-conscious is cool, but really I just prefer to keep it covered so people hopefully fill in the gap with something a little more affirming than what's under it.

"Yeah, they just… Don't fit anymore." I gestured to the snug black sweats I was wearing. I had cut a hole in the back for my tail like I'd done for most of my pants, and turned to the side to show her. Ana would rib me for this choice later, calling me a show-off, but I swear it's not like that. That decision had nothing to do with how cute the cashier was.

"Ohh, because of the medication?" She said, "Or have you just been hitting the squats too hard?" I'd done a lot of wishing my face had the full-coverage fur some other girls have, and the amount of blushing I was doing wasn't making that wish go away. I wanted to look cool; I needed to look cool. That was at least fifty percent of the reason to even be in this shop in the first place.

"A little bit of both," I said sheepishly.

The girl behind the counter looked over her shoulder to nobody, then leaned in. "Technically, our policy doesn't allow returns after two weeks,' she started in a whisper. "But! That policy is bullshit and unfair and you seem cool, so no worries! It's important to be a good ally, or whatever."

After we got the returns handled, she helped me find some new ones, cut me a discount, and assured me I could return them whenever I needed to. At the rate I've been developing at, that's quite the relief. Anabella mostly floated around the conversation, speaking up only right as we crossed the threshhold to leave.

"You know she was staring at you constantly, right bestie?" it said matter-of-factly, adjusting a couple askew feathers. The task seemed to frustrate her quickly, and she never complained when I realigned them instead. Gave me something to do other than be a blushy mess.

"Yeah, people stare, whatever," I said quickly.

"You know what I mean." She shook its wings out and pulled them in.

"I'm gonna count it as another point for her being one of us," I chided, hopping along a step ahead of Ana. I wasn't not hoping to garner a little more attention.

"Sometimes people are nice and gay, Edith," said Ana, its voice like a hand waving my sentence away as she made the same motion with her actual hand and wing in tandem.

"And sometimes they're nice, gay catgirls. When have I ever been wrong?" My tail fluttered unconsciously - I was still getting used to it - and I crossed my arms triumphantly.

"When you decided to spend $200 on a bunch of pants that you knew wouldn't fit a month later," Ana giggled. My new ears were too good at picking up that noise; I nearly melted into it, but managed to stay strong.

---

Thank you @flightlessbirdgirl for letting me write with your character 🩶

[theodoraflowerday]

heartstopper s3e2 live episode reaction

and it's gonna start to get so much worse I wanna bask on that final scene for a little longer

bro it took me one hour to watch a half hour episode

"shame mom had to pull out" honestly yeah it's such a shame I'm gonna miss Sarah so much this season

but also HELLO AUNT PEGGY CARTER

oh he wrote it down lmao me too charlie

OH. OH OKAY CHARLES

bro and by the end of this they're gonna be having sex idk how I'm gonna cope

tori's face.... she's always so worried about charlie I get her so much

oh my god

JANE STOP

TORI SPRING CHARLIE'S #1 DEFENDER

"can you please not undermine me like that in front of him" stop making her do your job then she's a *child*

I see julio's prob not gonna be in this season either lol bc that was his line not tori's

oh my god auntie diane didn't know (or at least not officially bc i know sarah was gushing over charlie)

bro and nick came out to her just like that....... my baby boy I'm so proud of him

"you know me" "I do" oh I BET y'all do

"I'll be good" "not too good tho" OOHHHHHH AYEEEEEEEEEE

I know in the comics they've only been dating for a year and I know they're probably at MOST late 20s but please can we have a nathan/youssef wedding in s4 (at least just a mention)

STOP DARCY'S GRANDMA IS SO WHOLESOME please don't be transphobic

not sahar saying she's unsurprised about imogen's high drama grade skfjdkfk y'all are gonna be the messiest gfs

oh darcy baby

ALL NINES??????

OXBRIDGE PREP GROUP AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA LETS FUCKIN GO TARA

"exams mean nothing" oh tori baby

omg nick did terrible at math he's so relatable I love him

oh wait he passed math. is it obvious I'm not english lmao

"NEVER IN DOUBT" oh uncle rick you'll always be famous

god please let charlie go to menorca with nick's family next year please

oh that's not great

NOT A SHIRTLESS SELFIE NICHOLAS YOU WHORE

oh isaac youll get used to this don't worry (yes worry)

OH HELLO JACK MADDOX

"you're abandoning me again" god every time tori speaks it tugs at my heartstrings

"I don't wanna see mum" and she accepts it.... greatest big sister in the world bro

oh char

CATCH PLANES NOT FEELINGS LMFAOOOOOOO IMOGEN I LOVE YOU

OH AUNTIE DIANE IS A PSYCHIATRIST LETS GOOOOOOO TEAM PSYCH

oh nick baby talk to her she's about the single most qualified person you could be talking about this to

oh I love you darcy's grandma you're so cute

darcy giving away her skirts..... or should I say THEIR SKIRTS. LET'S GO NB DARCY

oh tori

oh tori no

oh my god tori no

bro tori is breaking my heart CAN WE GET MICHAEL HERE WE NEED SUNSHINE

TAO NOOOOOOOOOO

"I wish I'd sat still" oh no

bro this show is gonna fuck me up

Isaac being worried about charlie 😭 also isaac being annoyed is SO ME I'd be smacking them left and right like wow

NOT ELLE COPYING TAO'S "RRRUDE"

ISAAC WENT TO CHECK ON CHARLIE what the fuck no one appreciates isaac enough what the fuck

oh they're watching a movie :( bffs :(

I love them so much your honor

also where are imogen and sahar I miss them :(

oh my GOD TORI IS ON TUMBLR

HER BEST FRIENDS HER BROTHER I LOVE YOU TORIIII

I know this season probably kills any solitaire adaptation hopes but I would have loved to see solitaire :(

omg julio IS here and being horrible at cooking!

OH MY GOD SHES LOOKING AT HIS LAPTOP

TORI'S TEXTING NICK OH MY H OD

tori 🤝 nick -> being charlie's #1 stans

OH MY GOD SHE SAID ILY

BRO THATS SO CUTEEEEEEEEEE I LOVE THEM

oh my god that's so horrifying

god you can *feel* his anxiety

I'm preemptively crying don't mind me

I was right to start preemptively crying that was *so* bad oh my god

bro charlie's face how he can't contain the tears i

im not gonna cope well with any of this

oh god im literally *sobbing*

my cat heard me sobbing, started kneading on my legs for like a few seconds and then left lmao skfkskfldkf tjsgs not good none of this is great

there's no way that was the ending

they just had me sobbing my eyes out and were like "ok time for a break" ok THANKS

please give both joe and kit like a thousand emmys

[starlitangels]

WIP Wednesday!

@romirola put out an open tag for WIP Wednesday so I'm going to participate

I'm continuing the Open Tag! If you wanna do it, go for it! Show me what you got! But I will prod at @zozo-01 @gingerbreadmonsters and @pinksparkl to see if they have anything they're working on and might be willing to share? (No pressure, friends!)

Y'all remember my "(Still) Not a Tank" pair of one-shots (the race/role swap AU)? Yeah... I'm trying to finish Part 3! Have a taste!

—

Sam stared for just a moment. “Didn’t think you’d just… be on my kitchen counter, darlin’,” he said.

They chuckled, kicking their boots slightly where they dangled. “Thought it’d be better than just lingering on the porch for your Neighborhood Watch to call the unempowered cops on me. Dunno if you’ve noticed this, but I like dark clothes. People tend to think that’s… suspicious.”

“How long you been waitin’ here?”

“Since right after sundown.”

Sam blinked several times. “That was near two hours ago.”

They shrugged. “Didn’t know when you’d get back. Figured I’d get over here as soon as I could.”

“... Why?”

They stared at him, their silver eyes reflecting like a cat’s off the half-light peeking through the shutters from outside. “You… you said you wanted to see me again.”

“I did say that. I did—do—want to see you again.”

That earned a one-shoulder shrug. “I’m not used to… people… wanting to see me. I’m used to being… tolerated.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better… I’m not used to… someone else bein’ so… eager to visit me.”

They looked away, turning their eyes down onto the hardwood floor. Biting their lower lip like they were trying to force down a smile. Sam caught the points of their fangs digging deeper than the rest of their teeth. He heard them say something, but didn’t catch any words.

“What was that?” he asked. Am I already that old that my hearin’s goin’? Or are they just that quiet?

They cleared their throat. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” They kept not meeting his gaze. “Anyway. What did you want to see me for? Just a social visit? Or am I due for a one-day follow up?”

Sam snorted. “Smartass,” he said.

They smirked—and it grew broader the second Sam’s heart kicked faster in response. “Is that why you wanted to see me? Get your blood racing a little faster?” They finally met his gaze and bit their tongue between their fangs on one side.

“You’re a nightmare.”

“Your heart’s still racing.”

“Even if—” Sam sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re too young for me.”

“Like, five years max is not ‘too young,’ cowboy,” they remarked, leaning back on their hands on the counter. Entire body on display. Sam forced himself to only hold focus on their eyes, not drink in the rest of the sight. The tank top showing off scarred, muscled arms, jeans too tight to comfortably run in—Stop, Collins.

“Two,” he corrected.

They smiled. “Even better.”

“No—dar—Tank—”

Their eyebrow raised. “‘Tank’?” they quoted. “Thought you figured that nickname was stupid or something.”

“Look. You’re in your mid-twenties.”

��No, I’m not.” Their fangs slid out defensively. A growl was low in their throat. “I’m tired of people treating me like a child because I was turned in my mid-twenties!”

“I’m not tryna—”

“Then let’s be honest with each other. We’re adults. No dancing around like idiot teenagers.”

He had to admire how bold and blunt they were, if nothing else.

He took a deep breath. “Alright.”

[possumbynite]

imp summoning as metaphor

(with apologies to Susan Sontag. after Heart Eyes by Benji Bright and Feralsong by TJ Klune.)

It looked like a bruise, at first - purple, blue, black, diffuse. And it made sense too, after everything that happened. The crawling progression from your neck to your shoulder to your chest, the emerging greens and golds, the shape resolving into something vaguely familiar. All understandable hallmarks of the healing process. Pooled blood slowly being digested and repurposed.

***

"When did you get a new tattoo?" your friend asks you. You're out to lunch together some weeks later. It's finally warm enough for you to shift your wardrobe from heavy sweaters and coats to something lighter for spring. Today was particularly temperate, so you chose something that showed off your neck and shoulders. You hadn't thought about the mark for a few days now, and you'd only taken cursory glances in mirrors. It had escaped your notice.

"I didn't," you lie, and they squint at you, but don't push. They text a couple days later and tell you that there's never judgement between y'all, and when you're ready to talk, they are. You take a few days to respond.

***

The linework is resolving more and more into something intentional, even recognizable. Some days you think it's a hannya mask, toothy and threatening. Other days it's a script you don't recognize, poetry you don't have the context to read. Other days still it's a handprint in paint, the cracked lines marking you as belonging to someone else, the whorls and wrinkles obviously foreign to your touch. Usually, you wear a top with enough coverage, or use a little concealer. Your friend seems less worried, but they also silently ask you questions that you don't have answers for, and they content themselves with your silence in reply.

***

It's a rush, isn't it? he asks you in the unnatural silence of the room, candlelight slashing across his face.

Of course it is, you lie.

You get to keep this with you forever, he promises.

I don't really have another choice, you don't say.

***

You think you see the impressions of claws pushing against the mark from the inside when you catch yourself in the mirror, half-asleep. You woke up to take a piss and planned to go right back to bed. Your pulse hitches as you go to flick on the light, but it's just the way it was before when you look again. You conjure a simple ward and try to go back to bed. You're not sure if the itching is in your head. You don't sleep well.

***

Your friend is finally brave enough to ask you what happened a year later. You tell them enough to slake their concern and their curiosity. They hug you and thank you for trusting them with that. They ask you if you wanna report this. You tell them it's been too long. They don't ask about it again.

***

You stopped noticing the itch after the second month. You almost miss it. You don't know how you feel about that.

***

"Are you okay? I think you might be bleeding."

You touch your mark. Your hand comes back wet and red.

"It's a new tattoo. They do that."

You get dressed in silence and delete her number. You apologize on Messenger a few days after that, and then block her everywhere anyway.

***

Every time you think it's finally settled, it's shifted into something unrecognizable, the linework fresh and raw. You thought about going to a shop that works spells into their art, covering it over so at least you get to choose what this means, what it does. You decide against it when you have vivid nightmares of teeth and claws, and you recognize your friend's face in the sanguine aftermath. You text them for the first time in a couple weeks when you wake up soaked in sweat, the mark oozing gently and staining your sheets. Again.

hey. i miss you. <3

i miss you too bitch!!!!! lunch soon?

definitely.

***

You try calling a hotline, once, when the ward gets slack and the itching starts back again. The person that answers reminds you that it wasn't your fault. They ask a bare minimum of questions and offer you a spot in the support group for survivors. You politely decline.

***

The police never connect you to the dead body, couldn't.

He doesn't really recognize you when you run into each other at a bar. But magic has fingerprints, and you're pretty sure you recognize his as it rips itself out of your mark.

When it crawls back inside, the itching goes quiet.

You don't tell your friend what happened. You don't tell your therapist.

You go out drinking with your friend a few weeks later, when his death makes the local news. "Don't you feel relieved?" they ask you. "Of course," you lie.

***

It stays quiet for a while.

***

You're at the beach when you notice someone else with a mark like yours. You briefly make eye contact with each other, and don't say anything. You nod at each other, curtly.

His tongue tastes like cinnamon candy when you find him later at tea dance. He's a perfect gentleman, and the hard line of his body is just perfect slotting into the sloping curves of yours. But there's something too familiar about him, something in the way he immediately understands when you decline his invite back to his room. The way he handles you like fine china after you tell him that you're not ready for that, yet. You trade numbers and text for a couple months, but things cool off and you gradually drift away from each other. You still like each other's posts on social media, and there's still warmth between you when you run into each other a few months later at another club.

That's enough, you tell yourself.

[1-p-29]

My Brother, Ivo

Ch 4: Tricked by a Wolf, Saved by a Relative

Read the other parts first! I'm too lazy to add so many links, sorry not sorry.

Let's get one thing straight... I hope to GOD y'all don't call Carol a dumbass after this, cuz she isn't. She's more... Common sense and less... Colossal IQ... and she's also just clumsy... very clumsy 😅...

Summary: She gets fooled by Barker, but someone saves here! He also... Wait... HE REGRETS IT!?

______________________________________________

"Hm... how curious..." Said Barker.

"What, Boss?" Asked one of his henchmen.

"This human is quite similar to Eggman... yet they both deny having any relation to one another."

"Really...? I don't see it."

"That's because you're incompetent."

"Oh."

Barker had been spying on them ever since he noticed how close they've been.

One day, Barker had decided to stop by her home and... have a chat.

After knocking on the door, she revealed a new mask she made. It was still a bunny (cuz she loves bunnies), but it had a black strip over the eyes. The black strip powered on and revealed two yellow dots representing eyes.

They then changed into small arches after she greeted the wolf man, asking if he'd like some tea. (He actually did)

"My, what a marvelous mask you have on, my dear! May I inspect it?"

"I'd love to hand it over, but I have personal reasons to not want my face to be shown, sorry."

"Ah, I see... my apologies for making you uncomfortable... it's just... you must have a very beautiful face... it's a shame you can't show it off."

"Beautiful, huh...?" The mask's eyes became semi circles. (the top half)

Barker nodded, causing the cheeks of the mask to glow pink.

"I assume that means you're blushing...?"

"Oh my, I'm sorry if that's awkward, I just don't get called that very often, that's all."

"I understand, Madame... Say, what's your opinion on Eggman...?"

"Hm...? My opinion on Eggman...? Why?"

"It's just... you two are somewhat similar... but I heard you have no relation to each other."

"I view Eggman as a dear friend of mine, a 'brother figure' if you will... but that's really all there is to it."

"Is that so...?"

"Yep..."

". . . Alrighty, then. . ."

Barker got up out of his seat and kindly said his goodbyes before leaving the house.

He had an idea on how to have a good look at her face, but it would be difficult, especially with the possibility of Eggman catching onto him.

'A most difficult challenge indeed,' thought Barker. 'But I've never NOT gotten what I wanted, even if only for a split second.'

His plan is this: He'll invite her to a gathering in the town square, slip a camera into her purse once she's not looking, and hope she takes off her mask in front of it. However, in order to retrieve the camera back, he must go back to her house and grab it himself.

And the plan would have worked out just fine if she didn't carry her purse around 24/7. She never took it off, not even while she was using the bathroom.

He asked why she was very protective of it and, even though she felt suspicious of him for asking, she had said it was because one of her ex's stole 500 dollars from her... and explained how she hunted him down and made him immobile for the rest of his life... and no one even believed she did it. (If you needed a better reason to why her and Eggman got along, then here it is😈)

Barker got a little scared of her after that night, knowing that this might be a little too much to handle, even for him.

But he's not a quitter, so he attempted it in a different way.

Instead of her purse, he would plant it in the bathroom on top of the mirror, so that way he'd have an easier time retrieving it. (She never changed in front of it, don't worry)

He visits her a lot, actually, but he doesn't know why... Does he, perhaps, like her company...?

No... no, he doesn't... he doesn't...

'Pull yourself together, Barker! You need to focus!' He scolded himself.

The plan did, infact, work, and he was astonished! 😧

"I knew they were hiding something! So... Eggman's long lost sister, eh...?"

He was about to post it globally, but someone barges into the room and kicks him to the ground before he could do it.

"Sh-Shadow!?"

"Silence, fool! I won't have you tearing this family apart more than it already is!"

'How does he know about all this!?' he thought.

Barker growled and demanded Shadow how he found him.

"I'm the ultimate life form, Barker... you can't hide from me. Also, your henchmen are weak."

"Why do you even care! Didn't Eggman trick you once!? Don't you want revenge!?"

"I already got it, you fool! Besides, even if I didn't, this isn't what I'd do! This family has already been through hell! And I won't allow you to make it even worse!"

Shadow grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of his 'lair' all while knocking out Barker's henchman again in the process.

Then he tied Barker up and brought him to Eggman, explaining the situation to him.

"YOU. ABSOLUTE. NO GOOD. F@#KING LOSER!!!"

Eggman was furious! He would have killed him if Shadow wasn't holding him back.

"Your lucky he's holding me back, you pile of garbage!"

"Doctor, calm TF down."

Eggman grumbled and sighed. Defeated, he calmed himself down as much as he could, before leaning against a wall.

"Now that your calm, why don't we question this little germ?"

"It would be my pleasure."

After tons of questions and Barker begging for forgiveness, Eggman had an idea.

"So... how do you like her company?" He asked.

"Excuse me?" Barker was confused... Him, enjoying time with her!? Preposterous!

"Don't lie to yourself, Barker," Shadow intervened. "I've seen the way you look at her."

Barker couldn't... NO! He didn't like her! That's MADNESS!

"B-Bullshit!"

"Really now...? Cuz from where I'm standing..." Eggman leaned in closer to Barker's ear and whispered, "You got a small little crush on my sister." (Barker's age was never disclosed, but because of how he sounds when he talks, I head canon that he's in his mid 40s)

"I-I... th-that's... n-not-!"

"Barker." They said in unison.

In case you hadn't noticed, Barker is currently at war with himself. He was a thief; a scammer; a criminal. He was all things bad, a current red flag... And yet...

"sighs... Alright, alright... Fine, yes... I do... Like her..."

"Then why were you about to post her face online?" Asked Eggman.

"He hesitated." Shadow replied.

"I didn't... Ok, fine, yes... I did..."

"But why...?"

"I... don't know... this is too... confusing..."

"Hey, word of advice, for you in particular, be yourself, but don't scam or expose my sister, ever..." Eggman pointed to the laser device around his arm. "Or it will be the last mistake you'll ever make."

"Uh... Y-Yes sir." Barker didn't realize how terrifying Eggman could get when he's angry.

"By the way, Shadow... thank you for keeping an eye on her. I was worried you wouldn't care when I asked."

"I care because I owe her one... she visited me and Maria a lot, along with her mother, and told me about GUNs side of the story when I talked to her for a bit."

"Were they justified...?"

"No... not in my opinion... I'd rather be shot dead then shoot someone just to save my career. He quit after that happened anyways, so what even was the point?"

"Damn right."

"I feel like a third wheel, now." Barker said, not understanding what they were talking about.

"Nobody asked." They said in unison.

"Ouch... but I deserved that."

"He's learning, at least." Shadow said.

"Ooh, how fun this is! You and my sister are PERFECT for each other!" Eggman exclaimed, happy for his little sister.

"You're... NOT going to kill me for crushing on her?" Asked Barker, confused with Eggman's reaction.

"Oh, no! Not at all! At the moment, I'm so happy I might explode! But..." Eggman grabbed Barker's shoulders and said, "If you break her heart and even think about double crossing her, or even make her upset; make her cry..." He started squeezing him tightly, making Barker wince a little. "I will follow you til' the end of time and torture you beyond your imagination... Not even Death itself can save you from my grasp because I will follow you down to Hell and torture you there as well... Do you understand me...?"

The atmosphere was so tense even Shadow felt chills. Eggman was a force to be reckoned with when he's serious.

"Y-Yes, sir! I got it! I-I'll make her happy! I p-promise!"

"Good... now let's go visit her and tell her everything that happened!"

"Wait, what-"

Before Barker could protest, he was grabbed and thrown into the Egg Mobile. While they flew over the water, Shadow followed behind them, using his shoes to hover across the water as he glided towards the town. (He's so awesome🤩)

After arriving to her house, getting settled and making sure they weren't being watched, Shadow and Eggman told her about what Barker was about to do. She took off her mask, now knowing Barker knew her identity, and glared at him.

"I'm disappointed, Barker... you should know better than this..."

"I'm sorry, Madame... I just- sighs... I have no excuse..."

'That's a good first step, right?' He thought to himself.

"Welp, at least he admitted it... anyways, Baker has something to tell you, Carol." Shadow said.

"Ooh, yeah... he DEFINITELY does." Eggman continued.

Barker's face flushes a deep red, and he glared at them, their smirks only growing wider. (Sorry if Boom Shadow smiling sounds cursed, but who cares lol)

"Barker... are you alright...?"

"Yes, M-Ma-Madame."

"Really...? You're heating up rapidly."

"We'll leave you to it, Barker!" Shadow remarked.

"Don't kill her, or I kill you! Have fun!" Eggman exclaimed.

After they leave, Barker slowly, but surely, explained how he had feelings for her.

Her face had turned as bright red as his.

"O-Oh my...! I-I uhm... I don't know what to say!"

"Well... would you like to, as they say... go out with me...?"

"So a date...?"

"If... that's what you want."

"Then yes, I would love to."

Then they had fun hanging out for the rest of the night. (Don't even think about it, adults... This is a family show)

After that night, Barker had lessened his urge to scam and manipulate people for his own gain. Again lessened... meaning he didn't really stop, he just didn't do it 24/7.

He stole a couple things sometimes, but Carol refuses any of it to be taken to her house. She doesn't want any beef with the authorities here.

Now we got a whole squad of friends! (Two of them dating)

Want to find out about how Shadow and Barker hang out while Eggman and Carol went back to visit the city she grew up in?

Stay tuned!

______________________________________________

Ok... I know Barker is this very VERY bad person... But hear me out! He's just, handsome! So that's why I did this. "He's still an evil prick, but he's MY evil prick." -Carol Robotnik.

[justabigassnerd]

The Perfect Gift

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader

Word count - 3,144

Warnings - mentions of Goose & Carole so a smidge of angst but mostly wholesome Christmas fluff!!

Song - The Perfect Gift by Joshua Bassett

Summary - Rooster is determined to make this the perfect Christmas ever. Only problem? He can't find the perfect gift

A/N - Happy Christmas y'all! I rise from the dead once more to provide a Christmas fic for y'all! I love this song so much it's definitely one of my top Christmas songs and it's definitely a song that could work with Rooster. Anyways I'll stop rambling and let y'all get on and read. As per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

In the run-up to Christmas, Rooster had been worrying his ass off about what to get you. You’d been together a couple of years now and he was beginning to run out of ideas on what to get you, especially because you didn’t show much interest in anything. Despite it not being your first Christmas together, he still wanted it to be perfect. He even enlisted the help of your dad, Maverick in finding a gift, dragging him around countless malls and shops to try and find the perfect gift for you. It was the first Christmas since Rooster had allowed Maverick back into his life since cutting him out when he pulled his application to the naval academy so Rooster wanted to utilise having Maverick around and recruited him to help him hunt for presents since he knew Hangman would’ve rather done two hundred push-ups than help Rooster with his dilemma.

“Bradley, you know she doesn’t care about what you get her. Christmas is special because you’re getting to spend time together. She cares more about getting to spend time with you than any gift.” Maverick had said as Rooster dragged him into yet another jewellery shop to look at what they had to offer.

“I care about that too. But I want this to be perfect. I love her so much and I don’t know what to get her when she’s already the perfect gift.” Rooster said, and the second those words left his mouth his eyes widened, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do.

“I got it! Okay, I’ve just had the best idea I got some work to do. But I need you to help me out.” Rooster says quickly, gesturing for Maverick to follow him and as the two men walked out of the shop, Rooster began to explain his plan.

When it came to Christmas, Rooster’s gift for you was finally complete but as it reached Christmas Eve, he began to second guess himself and began to wonder if you’d like the gift or not. He constantly put himself under a lot of pressure and you always reassured him that you’d love it no matter what.

“Bradley, honey, you could get me an empty box and I’d still love it because it was from you.” You said sweetly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, helping him to calm down enough to lie beside you in your shared bed as you snuggle into his side. As you always did, you rested your head on his chest and found yourself being lulled to sleep by Rooster’s steady heartbeat while his hand made its way to your head, messing with your hair and helping to drive you closer to sleep. However, despite how much sleep had taken a hold of you, you managed to mutter out one last ‘I love you’ before giving in to the clutches of sleep as a smile made its way across Rooster’s face.

“I love you more, sweetheart.”

The next morning, Rooster was awoken by you nuzzling closer to him for warmth as the duvet clearly did very little to provide you with warmth and Rooster, as always, accepted the opportunity for more cuddles, especially on Christmas morning. Rooster smiled to himself as you cuddled as close as humanly possible to him, you’d always said that Rooster was your own personal heater, and he never doubted your words for a second since more often than not he’d wake up with you half on top of him trying to maintain warmth. But you’d never catch him complaining about it. He wrapped both his arms around you and embraced you fully, pressing kisses to the top of your head as you begin to stir slightly. You clung tighter to him as you began to blink your eyes open, squinting at the light at first before your eyes adapted. Once you had woken up you looked up at Rooster, a tired yet happy smile on your face.

“Good morning baby.” You whisper as Rooster leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips in greeting.

“Good morning, and Merry Christmas.” Rooster replies once the two of you have parted for air.

“Merry Christmas to you too.” You say with a smile before attempting to get up only to be stopped by Rooster’s strong arms tightening around you and pulling you back into his side as you laugh.

“Bradley, we have to get up.” You manage to say through your laughter as Rooster buries his face in your shoulder and tugs the duvet right up to your shoulders.

“Nope. It’s Christmas so I think we deserve some cuddles in bed if you ask me.” He mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt as he moves to pepper kisses along your neck and jawline.

“Okay, we can cuddle for a bit, but we do have to be at dad and Penny’s for lunch like we promised.” You say, giving in to your boyfriend’s request almost instantly.

“You mean you promised Mav we’d be there.” Rooster retorts jokingly as you roll your eyes in response.

“It’s the first Christmas since you two made up. Christmas doesn’t need to be split up anymore because my boyfriend refuses to be within five feet of my dad.” You say with a raised eyebrow as Rooster pulls away slightly, sitting up and avoiding your eyes out of embarrassment.

“Oh, Bradley I’m sorry that was a bad joke. I’m over the moon that you and dad are getting along, really, I am. It makes me so happy you two are getting on. It means I don’t have to spend time with one or the other on days like this. I get to be with both of you.” You say, sitting up, cupping Rooster’s face gently, and lifting it so his eyes meet yours.

“I’m sorry, baby.” You apologise once more, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I’m sorry too. My anger towards Mav put you in a bad situation. And I’m so sorry for it.” Rooster then apologises, making you lean further into him, so your lips connect.

“You don’t need to apologise. I understand. How about we both stop apologising and cuddle for a bit more before getting up, hmm?” You offer, watching as a smile crosses your boyfriend’s beautiful face once more before wrapping his arms around you and flopping back against the mattress with you laying atop his chest as you both laugh. The two of you lie in bed, enjoying each other’s embrace for a few minutes before you decide it’s time you should get up and start the day. You get up first as Rooster pouts, with you pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m going for a shower. I won’t be gone forever, pretty boy.” You say before disappearing into the bathroom and the familiar sound of the shower running starts as Rooster lies in bed, going over how the gift he has could go down with you. He tries to keep his mind from running by focusing on the humming he hears coming from the bathroom and takes some deep breaths. Before he knew it, you had emerged from the bathroom, allowing him to get showered while you got changed. When he’d finished his shower and got changed, he joined you downstairs where you were pouring both him and yourself a cup of coffee as well as preparing breakfast. Rooster helped to finish breakfast which the two of you ate before taking your coffee cups into the living room where the Christmas tree was sat waiting with gifts underneath from each other and your fellow aviators. You decided to open the gifts from Dagger Squad first, laughing to each other when Rooster continually unwrapped more and more Hawaiian shirts to add to his never-ending collection of them. You unwrapped a variety of different items from each aviator and the two of you sent a message to each of your friends thanking them for their gifts before you move on to gifts from each other. You got Rooster a few different gifts, some of his favourite aftershave, and a new book of sheet music to play on the piano. But your final gift was a special one. You gave Rooster a Hawaiian shirt that was a carbon copy of the one his dad used to wear. You knew his original one had gotten lost in a move and Rooster had been beyond devastated so you spoke with your dad, who found a picture of Goose with his bright blue Hawaiian shirt on and the two of you were able to track down a similar shirt.

When it came to Rooster’s turn, he was sweating buckets when he handed you the first couple of gifts. He and Mav had been able to track down a few small things you’d like before he got to the main present. He got you perfume and a new pair of earrings before he told you to close your eyes so he could run upstairs to grab something. When you opened your eyes at his request you saw him sat in front of you with his guitar in hand.

“I’m going to be honest. Getting you something this year was the hardest it’s ever been because I wanted everything to be so perfect for you and so I kind of wrote a song because how could I find a perfect gift when the perfect gift is you?” Rooster says, making you smile widely as he begins to strum on his guitar and sing.

As Rooster began to sing, every lyric of his song brought memories of your relationship into your head. The first kiss the two of you shared under the night sky after Rooster took you out on a date. Holding Rooster as he sobbed when he found out your dad pulled his papers. He was initially angry at you too until you managed to calm him down and convince him of your innocence. You remembered being there by his side as your dad walked into the room the day of your first training session for the uranium mission, holding his hand to soothe him as your dad took over from Cyclone. You remembered every little detail about Bradley Bradshaw that you loved. The scars on his face that you loved to kiss. His sandy-coloured hair that you loved to run your hands through. His gorgeous singing voice that could overpower every patron of the Hard Deck when singing ‘Great Balls of Fire’. How he was the most badass aviator but was the sweetest guy when the two of you were at home. How he made you feel loved and protected. He was your best friend, and you were grateful you were able to love a man like Bradley Bradshaw.

When he finished his song, you wiped the tears you hadn’t realised had fallen down your cheeks and clapped as Rooster gave you a sheepish smile before putting his guitar to the side just in time for you to launch into his arms for a hug and a kiss.

“Did you like it?” He asks nervously when you pull away.

“Was the fact I tackled you into a hug and kissed you like there’s no tomorrow not a good enough answer? I loved it, baby.” You say, wiping the remainder of your tears before moving to sit opposite Rooster.

“I’m glad you liked it. You actually have one more present. I put it in the tree.” Rooster says as you stand up from where you were sat on the floor and start searching the tree but not seeing any sign of the present he’s talking about.

“Bradley I can’t see anything. What’s this all about?” You say, eyes still scouring the tree until your eyes land on a piece of paper nestled in amongst the pine needles. You grab it and open it carefully seeing the words ‘turn around’ written on it and you do as the paper says, folding it back up to ask Rooster what was going on before you gasped, dropping the paper at the sight before you. Rooster was on one knee with a small velvet box in his hands, a gorgeous ring settled inside as more happy tears began to well in your eyes.

“y/n Mitchell. You’ve been my best friend my whole life and I’m the luckiest guy in the world to get to call you, my girlfriend. But I’d be even luckier if I got to call you, my wife. You’ve been with me through thick and thin and there’s no one else on this world I can imagine spending the rest of my life with other than you. Will you marry me?” He asks, making you nod repeatedly before words were finally able to escape your mouth.

“Yes! Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!” You exclaim happily as Rooster stands up to pull you into an embrace hugging you tightly before your lips crash with his. Both of you were smiling too much so the kiss became two smiles pressed together but you were both so happy you couldn’t stop smiling. When you pulled away, Rooster took your left hand in his own and slipped the ring on your finger, grinning. You stared at the ring in awe before a spark of realisation overcame you.

“Is this… your mum's ring?” You ask cautiously, remembering when you were younger, and you’d see this ring shining on Carole’s hand. That and her wedding ring being a way to keep Goose with her.

“Yeah. She gave it to me before she died. She said to use it when I met the right girl. But between you and me I think she wanted it to be you from the get-go.” Rooster admits, both of you smiling as you look back at the ring. You knew that Goose and Carole were watching over their son and that they were probably cheering like they were watching a football game when he proposed.

“We should probably head to Mav’s, huh? Tell him the good news?” Rooster then says, smiling knowingly as you quirk an eyebrow.

“Something tells me you and dad were in on this together?” You ask as you grab the gifts for your dad, Penny, and Amelia before putting on your shoes and heading out to the Bronco.

“I did most of the work. He just gave me his permission to propose to you.” Rooster says as he climbs into the car, starting the engine and beginning the drive to your dad’s house. When you arrive you and Rooster grab the gifts and knock on the door to be greeted by your dad who throws the door open.

“I take it from the fact that the two of you arrived together everything went well?” Your dad asks, looking over at Rooster as he nods, lifting your connected hands and showing the ring glistening on your finger.

“Congratulations you two. I couldn’t be happier.” Your dad then says, bringing you into the house before engulfing you in a tight hug.

“Thank you, dad.” You whisper as he hugs you tighter.

“I’m so happy for you sweetheart. You deserve the best and Bradley is the only man I trust to provide you with nothing but the best.” He replies, making you laugh lightly against his shoulder before you pull away.

“Come on. Let’s tell Penny and Amelia the good news.” Rooster then says, gathering up the presents you had put down so you could hug Maverick and heading into the living room to join the two.

"We heard you in the hall. Congratulations you two!" Penny says happily as Amelia grins.

“There goes the surprise then. Merry Christmas you two.” You and Rooster greet as you settle down on the sofa, handing each gift to their respective person and watching as they unwrap them. When the gifts have been exchanged Penny and Amelia turn to you.

“Let us see the ring, y/n.” Amelia all but begs, both of them leaning closer when you extend your hand towards them so they could get a closer look at the ring.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous, y/n.” Penny gushes, admiring the ring as Rooster winds his arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Not as gorgeous as her.” Rooster shamelessly flirts as Amelia groans and Maverick slaps his hands on his thighs and stands up.

“And just for that disgustingly cute comment. You’re on dinner duty with me. Come on in the kitchen.” He says, gesturing for Rooster to follow him into the kitchen while you stay in the living room with Penny and Amelia to have a catch-up.

“She’s lucky to have you, you know.” Maverick’s voice cuts through the quietly playing Christmas music in the kitchen as Rooster looks up from where he was peeling potatoes.

“I’m the lucky one.” Rooster replies with a laugh as he hears you telling the two in the living room how the proposal happened.

“Goose and Carole always had a bet going that you two would end up together. I was against it because I hated the thought of my little girl dating anyone, but I was very wrong. There’s no one better for her than you.” Maverick then says, memories of his old friends coming to the surface as he remembers him and Goose watching the two of you one day as you toddled around on the beach when Goose made the offhand comment that he was sure the two of you would end up together in your future.

“I miss them so much. I just wish they could be here.” Rooster manages to say after a brief silence. Thinking about how much he wants his parents to see him get married to the woman he loves most in the world.

“I miss them too, kid. But I know they are so proud of you. You were their world Bradley, so I know they’ve been cheering you on every step of your journey. I want them to be at your wedding just as much as you do but I know they’ll be there in spirit. They’re still with us.” Maverick says, turning to face the man soon to become his son-in-law. Rooster nods at his words with misty eyes and Maverick wastes no time bringing him into a hug which Rooster welcomes. When he pulled away, he thanked Maverick quietly and wiped his eyes of any potential tears before hearing your laughter coming from the other room, which brought a smile to his face. He was already so excited about getting to call you, his fiancée. But what he couldn’t wait for was to be able to introduce you to people as Mrs Bradshaw. His wife.

[battybriefs]

Remember kids, it's only grooming when it's gay.

But for real heres personal story time. Let's talk about actual grooming.

I grew up in the Mormon church in the 90s and early 2000s. Like a good child, I participated in all the church activities including the young women's program. My parents wanted me to do it, i was told the church leaders were good people so I didnt question anything.

While the guys in the boyscouts and young mens program were learning survival skills, learning woodworking, learning how to fix cars, and learning financial literacy ... we were learning to do our makeup, can food, bake bread, sew clothes, cook large meals, and learn about changing diapers. It was hammered in our heads from a young age that our entire purpose in life was to get married, serve the husband, have kids and raise a family.

I remember when I was a Beehive, around 13 or 14, our ward was invited to participate in a fashion show for one of the local bridal stores. They dressed all the young women up, did our makeup and hair, put us in wedding dresses, and invited all the men in the ward to come watch us runway walk in the cultural hall. I was a literal child. I didnt even have tıts yet. Men in their 60s and 70s in our ward came to watch us parade around in our little wedding gowns. That's straight up a pedopagent and grooming child brides, y'all, and I didn't even realize it because things like that were so normalized in the church.

I remember sitting in the bishops office interviewing for my first temple reccomend so I could participate in the young women's activity to do baptisms for the dead. He asks me if I live by the laws of chastity. I was young, naive, sheltered and didn't even know what the word chastity meant. I remember him aggressively, explicitly asking me questions about my virginity- had I ever kissed a boy, touched a boy, thought about a boy, touched myself, touched a girl, thought about a girl, felt tingly down there, had a hymen. He kept asking me over and over if I was sure about my answers, and would elaborate on what he meant like he was fishing for a specific answer. It felt so dirty and invasive. In hind sight it felt more like he was trying to get spank bank material than trying to find out if I was being a "good girl".

Fast forward a few years. Im in Junior High, probably about 15 years old. I'm a closeted homo sitting next to my girlfriend in church, trying my damndest to hold my tongue and not let people catch on that I was crying. The young woman's lesson was about a woman's worth.

They opened up by talking about how we're getting old enough to go to college in a few years and that that's great, but a career and college education should be a hobby and not a goal. They stressed that we shouldn't put our educations and careers as a priority over finding a man, getting married in the temple, and starting a family. They said as soon as we found a man, we needed to drop out and become stay at home mothers. It was the mans duty to provide for the family. We were told that the reason God sent women to this earth to serve men and raise families, and that it was a divine and sacred calling.

The second half was about how lesbians and gay people were sent by the devil to destroy families. We were told if we "struggled with same sex attraction" we needed to pray, repent and try harder to be straight. That we needed to tell the bishop so they could help us get gay conversion therapy. That even if we liked girls, we needed to find a man to marry and bear his children. They actively encouraged gay men and women to catfish straight partners and trick them into thinking you loved them with the purpose of bearing children. Can you imagine how fucking awful it would be to fall in love and marry a person thinking they felt the same way, only to find out they're gay and living a lie so they don't go to hell?

The church advocating "its ok to be gay but you have to be celibate and single for the rest of your life" was a change the church made a few years later when Prop 8 passed and their members started leaving in hoards.

Meanwhile I've been to drag shows since I was in high-school. It's just a bunch of people with great makeup skills doing lavish impressions of Lady Gaga and Freddy Mercury.

Why is a drag show considered grooming but telling actual children that theyre going to be mommies and daddies when they grow up not? Why is it grooming if a trans person is out in public doing something mundane like grocery shopping, but it isn't grooming watching television shows that has love triangle plotlines that revolve around teenagers making out and exploring their sexuality? Why is it grooming when a children's show has a character with two daddies but not grooming when the children's show character has a mom and a dad?

If people really give a shit about grooming, they need to start in their own backyard. Start by deconstructing straight representation in media. Start by asking why its ok to joke that a toddler is going to be a ladies man when he grows up. Start by asking why child beauty pagents even exist. Start by looking at how your religion teaches and enforces sexuality. Start with comprehensive and age appropriate lessons about the human body and consent with little Suzy so when uncle Bob is being inappropriate at the family reunion she has the knowlege and tools to know whats going on, to assert her boundaries, and the confidence to tell another grownup what's going on.

[sassykattery]

A Divine Triad, Pt. 6

Welcome, welcome readers. This is Part 6 of "A Divine Triad."

I feel the need to address this on this part: if I catch you in my notifications without an age on your blog or you are a minor, I will block you immediately.

Anyway! I don't think y'all are ready for this part. It's super long so hold tight!

Let's go.

CW: MC is poly and afab. she/her pronouns are used. suggestive speech before smut scene. This part is pure smut, and smut scenes start with a pink asterisk (*): threesome, unprotected sex, explicit description of male and female genitalia, fingering, squirting, orgasm denial, daddy doms, oral [m! and f! receiving and giving], spitroast, creampie, use of names: daddy, good girl

themes: DiavoloxMCxLucifer, sex, romance,

Again, ageless and minors DNI or get blocked.

18+ only

Enjoy the show~

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"Well, what do we have here?" a voice called from the direction of the door, the sound of a lock turning behind it.

You stiffened immediately, knowing the sound of that voice.

"I remember saying to let her rest, did I not, Lucifer?" Diavolo inquired.

Lucifer broke from the kiss and relinquished you. He stared at you with his eyes half-lidded, still full of lust and need for you. In his mind, he was trying to calm himself down, thinking of stringing up any of his brothers to distract from how you looked pushed up against a wall and his body only moments ago.

After several seconds, Lucifer stood to the side and both of you looked at Diavolo.

Diavolo stood in front of the closed bedroom door with his arms crossed. He didn't look or sound angry, per se, just surprised. He walked over to where you and Lucifer were standing, stopping right in front of you, facing you, with Lucifer still to the side, facing Diavolo.

Diavolo continued, "Are you feeling better?" You nodded. "Good, I'm glad," he said.

Without warning, Diavolo then pushed you back into the wall, just as Lucifer had, and started fiercely kissing you as well. Your eyes went wide at the prince's sudden moves, and you couldn't help but side-eye Lucifer, who looked at you with mild shock, but, if your imagination wasn't playing tricks on you, you also saw traces of desire from watching you.

Diavolo's hands made their way to cupping your jaw, now sending his tongue to invade your mouth, wildly lapping at your lips and running across your teeth. He tasted like fresh Demonus, and it was rather enjoyable, so your eyes closed as you melted into him. Your hands dug into his bare waist, and you could feel both of your heartbeats thundering wildly against each other's chests.

Finally, Diavolo released your lips and gazed into your eyes, with his hands now on your waist, he spoke, "It's really unfair to keep her all to yourself like that, Lucifer."

Lucifer remained silent, unsure of whether to answer. It was hard to peel your eyes away from Diavolo's penetrating gaze.

"My guests and I were starting to miss her, so I wanted to see for myself that she was alright. Though, given how frenzied you were when you left, Lucifer, I'm not surprised to find you like this." He finally turned his head to look at the Avatar of Pride, with a smirk. "Though, had I been as close as you were to her, I may have been too."

You watched in mild confusion and shock during the silent exchange of glances between the two demons.

Lucifer finally responded, not backing down, "Well, if she wasn't such a tease." His gaze shifted down to you. "Dancing like that, it was like she was begging for me to take her," he said with a smirk.

"Indeed, she was rather enamoring. I could hardly focus on what I was talking about. All I could think about was getting her back in my arms," Diavolo mused, looking back at you as well.

Your mouth was agape, and your eyes kept flickering back and forth between the demons, unable to register what was going on here. They're joking right now, right? Right? you thought. But there was something rather exciting about the exchange, too.

"And that scent she was emitting, I'm sure there wasn't a demon there who didn't want her," Lucifer purred.

Diavolo's chuckle vibrated against your body as he was still pressed up against you. "Intoxicating, was it not?" he asked.

"Still is, it looks like she's enjoying this," Lucifer replied.

Diavolo pulled you from the wall and then positioned you to face Lucifer, with putting himself behind you.

"I guess we could share," Diavolo said into your ear. Lucifer grabbed one of your hands and pulled it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

"I suppose, if she's willing," Lucifer concurred. Diavolo grazed his fingertips against your bare shoulders, causing you to shiver.

Diavolo continued, "How about it? What do you want?" he whispered into your ear.

You swallowed thickly. "Wh-what about the ball..." you squeaked out.

Diavolo chuckled, "Barbatos will see everyone out. I did tell him if I didn't return to do so."

Lucifer kissed his way up your arm and stopped, "So, what do you want?"

*"Both of you, I want both of you," you whispered. Your heart felt like it stopped when the words left your lips.

Lucifer smirked at you and continued his ministrations on your arm and made his way to your collarbone, up your neck, and finally landed on your lips. Diavolo's hands were busy slowly unzipping the back of your dress as he kissed your shoulder blades. Once it was unzipped, it fell down in a puddle at your feet.

Admiring you, Diavolo whispered in your ear, "So stunning." Lucifer broke your kiss and let his eyes wander down the front of you.

"I couldn't agree more, she's perfect," Lucifer purred. He helped you step out of your gown and kicked it aside. "Though, I'd like a full view," he added.

He turned you around to face Diavolo. Diavolo immediately captured your lips with his, hungrily tasting you and attacking your tongue with his, running his hands up and down your arms. Lucifer planted kisses down your spine and knelt down to tug at your black lace panties, letting them fall to your feet. He stood again, pressing himself into your back, and found that spot on the back of your neck that drove you wild, attacking it with his tongue and teeth, all while unhooking your bra and tossing it.

You moaned into Diavolo's mouth at the sensations on your neck, feeling the ache in your core only wind up tighter, like a spring that's ready to pop. You couldn't let yourself think too much about what was happening, because if you did, you knew your rational mind would tell you to run. But everything felt so good, their touch made your heart and body sing in unison.

Diavolo pulled away from your lips, and to your surprise when you opened your eyes, he was in his regular form. He walked backwards toward the bed, taking your hand to follow. Sitting on the mattress, he turned you around and pulled you onto his lap, your legs spread to hook around his to face and expose yourself to the demon approaching you. Lucifer was also now in his regular form. He removed his coat and gloves, rolling up his shirt sleeves. He bent down to you and made out with you while Diavolo's hand slowly worked its way to your dripping sex. When his fingers grazed your vulva, you jolted, unprepared for the electricity you felt.

Diavolo's fingers slipped into your folds, gently rubbing circles into your clit. Moaning into Lucifer's mouth, your hips bucked forward into Diavolo's hand.

Though technically none of their moves were new for you, having the both of them worship your body like this at the same time was other-worldly.

Lucifer pulled away and held his face in front of yours. Almost as though he read your thoughts, he said, "Do you like us both worshipping you? Both of us making you moan and feel good?" You nodded. Diavolo's teeth grazed your ear lobe as his slipped two fingers into your entrance. Gasping, your eyes started to close as your pleasure mounted and you turned your head.

Growling, Diavolo said, "I can tell she does, she's so wet. We must have really worked her up."

Then, Lucifer grabbed your chin and pulled it up and demanded, "Look at me while you're being fingered. I want to see your pretty eyes."

You opened your eyes and stared straight into Lucifer's crimson ones. It was hard to keep your focus, when all you wanted was to hide your embarrassment.

"Don't be shy now, dove, you're beautiful," Lucifer cooed. His praise heightened your arousal, and Diavolo was now hitting that sweet spot inside of you with his digits. You started panting and rolling into the pleasure you felt. Diavolo's free hand snatched your hip to keep you still, as you were grinding against his erection and driving him wild.

"Are you going to cum?" Diavolo whispered, feeling your walls clenching down and your legs tightening. You nodded. Diavolo looked to Lucifer, "Should we let her?"

Lucifer smirked and looked at you. "I don't know, I'm not sure she deserves to just yet," he mused.

"Please," you whimpered, as Diavolo slightly retreated from that spongey spot in your core, teasing you and holding that orgasm just out of your reach while his thumb barely grazed your clit.

"Please what?" Diavolo growled.

This time a whine escaped your lips, "Please Daddy, I want to cum."

Lucifer grabbed your jaw firmly, bending over to bring his face right in front of yours again. "Oh? You call him Daddy too, do you?"

Your eyes widened and when he released your jaw you stammered, "No- I- wait."

"Is that right? I'm afraid there can only be one," Diavolo purred into your ear, biting your lobe harder.

"So, who is it, dove? Who's your Daddy?" Lucifer asked, his tone slightly menacing but also teasing. It felt like whole your body was on aflame from embarrassment and arousal. You simply shook your head, unable to answer. Diavolo tutted you in your ear.

"I think we should make her wait, see if she can be a good girl for us," Lucifer growled, glaring at you for your mistep. You whimpered as Diavolo's fingers slipped from you, denying your release.

Diavolo unhooked your legs and helped you off his lap to stand; you were wobbly from being so close to your orgasm, and it was hard to keep your knees from buckling. He stood behind you and took off his coat, tie, and shirt. You heard the unbuckling of his belt and felt him brush against you as he removed his trousers and underwear.

Turning you around, Diavolo pulled you back onto the bed with him. He was fully reclined, and you were on your knees, bent at the hips. You saw his hard cock, and without hesitation he took your hand and placed it on his throbbing member. He hissed as you grasped it, and his hand shot to your head, gently pulling it down. Getting the hint, you bowed your head and slowly took the head of his cock into your warm, wet mouth. A moan escaped his lips, and he watched as you continued lowering your mouth down his shaft, taking in as much as you could.

Behind you, Lucifer disrobed as well. He stood at the edge of the bed, just an inch away from your ass that was stuck out in the air, just for him to grab a hold of and knead with his strong hands. This made you moan onto Diavolo's cock, the vibrations sending bursts of pleasure to him. Diavolo grabbed the top of your head to hang on to as your mouth worked him over, creating a deliriously wonderful suction, bobbing your head up and down.

To your surprise, Lucifer began playing with your pussy, rubbing your clit just how you like it. Your body quivered with pleasure as he pushed onto that sensitive bud, causing you to lunge forward, but his free hand gripped your hip to pull you back into place. Suddenly, he slipped a finger into your core, working up a fast pace, and then adding a second finger not long after, still rubbing your clit with the other hand. Your cunt made the most delicious noises as he finger-fucked you.

Seeing tears streaming down your face and you starting to gag, Diavolo pulled you off his cock to breathe, seeing spit running down your chin and how your eyes were glazed over, he smiled at how sweet you looked. Lucifer deepened his ministrations and reached that sweet spot again, and you moaned out your appreciation for it.

"Hmm, have you been a good girl yet?" Diavolo asked. You nodded furiously at him.

"Yes, I want to be a good girl, I'll do anything," you pleaded.

"I think she's earned this one, don't you think?" Diavolo inquired. Lucifer responded by pressing harder into your g-spot, furiously ramming his fingers into it, and you sputtered at the intensity of the shocks you felt from it. Your moans turned to sobs in an instant, and all you could say was "Please" over and over. In a sweet voice, Diavolo commanded you, "Cum for us."

He held your head up as your core took the pummeling of Lucifer's fingers. In seconds, your pleas turned into mindless screams as your release sank its teeth into you, unfurling every stretch of your mind that still remained coherent. Your cunt made sickeningly wet noise as you squirted, and you were quiet as a silent scream took hold, unable to voice anything. Lucifer slowed his pace, gently withdrew his drenched fingers from you, and you fell limp onto Diavolo, panting.

Diavolo pulled you up to him, cradling you against him. "You did so well, my love" he whispered, kissing your forehead. When you were a bit more coherent, he tipped up your chin to look at him. "Do you want to stop? Just tell us and we will," he said.

You blinked. "No... I want more," you replied. "I want more of you both." Not exactly sure where your sudden confidence was coming from, you tried to commit to it before your bravery dissipated.

Detaching from Diavolo, you sat up and came back to the edge of the bed, facing Lucifer. Standing upright on your knees, you pulled him down for a kiss, and his arms wrapped around your waist as he returned the kiss softly, almost like an apology for being so rough.

Pulling away, you started kissing down his jaw and neck, which elicited a groan from him. You shuffled back as you continued planting kisses down his chest and torso, bent at the hip on your knees. When you finally reached his groin, you gave searing kisses everywhere but where he desperately wanted to feel you the most.

Behind you, Diavolo rolled onto his back and slid himself underneath you and began to return the favor you gave him by working his tongue into your folds, and he used his hands to massage your thighs and ass, whichever he saw fit to grab.

Finally having enough of the teasing, Lucifer grabbed your chin and stared down at you, looking just a tad menacing. Looking up into his beautiful face, you grabbed his cock in one hand, stroking it slowly. He groaned again but kept his eyes locked on yours as you sent your tongue to lick the length of his dick. How pretty you looked to him when you did that while moaning out your pleasure; it drove him wild.

"Hm, this has got to go," he mused while quickly removing the dozens of pins in your hair. Your hair came tumbling down and he grabbed a hold of it into his fist while you wrapped your mouth around the head of his cock. His hips bucked forward, sending more of his length into your sweet mouth, causing both of you to moan.

Diavolo had started fingering you while still lapping at your drenched pussy, and you were being worked up again, setting up for another orgasm. His fingering caused you to start bucking forward, and Lucifer rolled his hips in sync with you to fuck your face. His head rolled back in pleasure, and his hand squeezed, tightening his hold on your head. Your sob was muffled around his dick, fighting your gag reflex as he relentlessly railed into your mouth.

Your walls were tightening on Diavolo's fingers, it was getting harder and harder to focus on working Lucifer's cock. Lucifer looked back down at you, seeing what a mess you were, gagging on him. He withdrew from your mouth to let you breathe and stroked himself while he watched you. Your moans were hitching and bordering on sobs, and he could see how your thighs were trembling as the crushing weight of your release was about drop onto you.

Once you caught your breath, he fed you his cock once more, thrusting faster than before. He wanted to cum with you. You used your hand stroke him simultaneously with sucking his length, working him up. For Lucifer, seeing you beneath him like that, lips luxuriously rolling up and down his cock, you looking up at him, it was his weakness. He ordinarily wanted to be the one giving instead of receiving, but the way you wanted to please him in equal measure made him melt.

Diavolo used his fingers to incessantly rub into your sweet g-spot, and it was all over for you. With a muffled moan, you chased your release with rocking your hips into his fingers. Your eyes rolled back, and your thighs tightened up around Diavolo's head, trapping him. He vigorously lapped up your cum, moaning his approval of your deliciousness. Reality melted before you, and Lucifer felt you shudder along with your hand grasping his length harder. He gave your mouth just a few more thrusts before pulling away to release onto your neck and chest, watching the drops of his warm load rolling down your chest.

He knelt down to the floor to be face-to-face with you and gave you a series of soft kisses and sweet praises.

"You've been a very good girl for us, you're so perfect and beautiful. I love you so much, my little dove," he whispered on your lips. He cleaned up your chest for you and continued peppering you with kisses.

Beneath you, Diavolo slid out from under you and rolled himself to sit on his knees, directly behind your ass as you were still bent at the hip on your knees. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down your folds, getting himself wet with your juices. You whimpered into Lucifer's mouth, knowing what was about to come. Diavolo slipped into your dripping entrance and leaned over you to grab your arms, which you limply gave, and he pulled you up so your back was flush with his chest. His lips grazed your ear, hot breath tickling your scalp, "My turn," he huffed. He bent your arms back and hooked his arms through, effectively pinning you in place.

Lucifer knelt onto the bed in front of you, upright on his knees, and kissed you softly, kneading your breasts. Diavolo was slowly and smoothly rocking his hips into you and resorted to kissing that sweet spot on the back of your neck, which made you try to lurch forward, but Diavolo's hold on you kept you in place.

The stimulation from each demon swirled together into a symphony of bliss that you were subjugated to, and you didn't fight it. Every nerve, every inch of skin, was on fire; but not a roaring fire, it was a simmering glow of the coals as they would when they begin to heat up slowly, the small fires dancing on every nerve ending.

Rather than tensing up, your body relaxed into the pleasure, letting it slowly build in your core. A smile crossed your lips as your head lolled back onto Diavolo's shoulder, eyes closed. He kissed your cheek and jaw, admiring your dreamy expression. Lucifer saw this as well, and kissed down your neck and chest, gently sucking and scraping his teeth against your soft skin. He dropped down to one of your breasts and took a nipple into his mouth. A lewd moan escaped your smiling lips, more joyous and appreciative, contrary to the unfiltered screams from before.

Diavolo purred into your ear, "My, it seems we hit the sweet spot for you, haven't we?"

"Y-Yes," you said breathlessly.

Continuing, Diavolo said, "Is this what you've always wanted? For both of us to make love to you? To worship you like the goddess you are?"

You turned your head toward him, still laying back on his shoulder. He stole kisses from you as he continued to slowly rub his cock into your glorious pussy. He was savoring you just as much, memorizing how gorgeous you look in such a state of heavenly delight. Diavolo loved that they could make you look this way.

Groaning into your mouth, Diavolo reveled at your walls starting to clamp down on his cock and picked up his pace slightly. He broke the kiss and returned to your ear. "I love you so much, I just want to make you feel good, my darling. I want to feel you cum on my cock" he murmured. The fires burning across your body grew hotter, coinciding with the escalation of your moans.

Lucifer came back up and continued to make out with you, his tongue swirling around yours. In efforts to push you over that edge you were nearing, his hand snuck down to your clit and began rubbing circles around it, and his other hand continued massaging one of your breasts. Diavolo dove back down to the spot on your neck and sucked hard, even sinking his teeth into your skin, and the pain just mixed in with the unbridled pleasure you felt.

In a moment, that was it, your finale began. Your core felt as though it had been twisting and twisting for so long, the pressure becoming almost insurmountable. The combinations of their ministrations created the final chord in the song that was your pleasure. A supernova of euphoria exploded with in you, and you trembled beneath the weight of its crash.

Your face scrunched up and contorted into that of an orgasm so intense you pushed back into Diavolo, but of course he stood firm, being the wall that you needed.

Lucifer pulled away from the kiss and simply watched you, totally captivated by how your body handled the intensity of your high. To see you feel that good made his chest tighten and heart squeeze. He hadn't seen anything more beautiful in all his years. You tried opening your eyes, seeing his sparkling ones gazing upon you, but your eyes screwed shut again as another wave hit.

Diavolo couldn't contain himself, seeing you writhe like that against his body with his cock inside you. He could see part of your face, and how angelic you looked under the enslavement of your orgasm, drove him into his own state of bliss, and he fully sheathed himself inside of you. His cock throbbed as ropes of cum shot out into your spasming cunt. He moaned and huffed into your neck. It seemed like your release was drawing out his as well, it felt like eons before the haze of his pleasure faded, but you were still riding your shockwaves.

Your mind had melted into nothing, no thoughts or concepts crossed it. The racks of ecstasy slowed, fading feelings of pleasure turning into pure exhaustion. Your gasps were evened out and returning to normal. Completely letting go of yourself, you slumped against Diavolo's hold. It was too much to even open your eyes or speak. They took that as a sign of your satisfaction and resignation.

Diavolo pulled out of you and gently released your arms. He softly guided your limp frame to lay down on the bed, Lucifer helping to bring up the covers over you. Both demons crawled in after you, laying on either side of you. The three of you laid there in complete bliss, satisfied with yourselves and each other. Your body refused any correspondence to move, so you allowed yourself to fall into slumber.

Thank you for reading~ <3

Posted by sassykattery. Do not repost. Likes and reblogs appreciated!

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