#and i love that mine can be separated from urs and from others like that

[raddest-laddest]

OH MY FUCKING—

THE NOISE I MADE WAS NOT HUMAN

RAAAGHGH QUIRRELMON BLAST 💚💙 my part of an art trade with @raddest-laddest ft. their gijinka designs of them :)

[oofmybad]

I know a place

synopsis: the two of you go dancing at a gay club in london. part 2 to hometown glory. pt. 1 here

warnings: nothing really, fluff, slightly suggestive at the end, not proof read

a/n: ur gonna have to keep suspending disbelief pls and thank u. billie is billie, but for the sake of the story, she does not get recognized.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“come on, baby, pleaseeeee” you beg your girlfriend, giving her the most doe eyes possible.

the mini tour you’re giving billie has landed you in soho. when you started university you would regularly visit the gay clubs around the area. some of your fondest memories with your closest friends were made those nights. so you wanted to share the experience with billie - it having been so affirming in your ‘baby gay’ days.

“it’s just not my kind of thing, y/n. you should call your friends and go, though! ” billie replies, squeezing your face in one hand and pecking your lips.

“i’ve already gone countless times with my friends - i wanna go with you! and, it’s not really my scene anymore, either, but you have to go once in your life - it’s a gay right of passage!” you go on at billie. you grab her hand that was just on your face and squeeze it, emphasizing your desire.

“ughhhhhhh fine! but only ‘cause you’re so pretty” billie rolls her eyes.

“YES! YES! YES!” you jump up and down, “you’re gonna love it!”

***time skip to the gay club***

the two of you walk in after having gone through security checks. there is a dimly lit staircase that leads you underground the train tracks - where the club is. as you two descend into the warehouse the music gets louder with each step.

amongst all of the laser beams and people it’s getting hard to keep track of billie so you reach your hand out for her to grab, she immediately takes your hold.

‘dancing on my own’ is blaring through the speakers and you can see a drag queen lip syncing to the song on the stage on the far side of the room.

“come on! follow me!” you yell at billie over the deafening music. she nods and allows herself to be dragged into the crowd.

once you’re happy with your spot - you have a view of the stage but you’re still surrounded by bodies - you pull billie into your hold and begin to dance with her.

both of your hips are swaying in unison, your arms around her shoulders. billie makes eye contact and mouths, “it’s so sweaty!” with a laugh.

“that’s the best part!” you yell back, joking, trying to get her to loosen up.

the song finishes and warps into ‘how to be a heartbreaker’. billie jokingly moans at the new song choice, “i love this song!”

you giggle at her excitement and separate your body from hers - the two of you now screaming the lyrics into each others faces. billie is starting to let go of her inhibitions, relaxing into the anonymity of the dark room.

kylie minogue comes on next, billie screaming, “banger after banger!”

once you two have been dancing around for a while, you lean into billie’s neck and say, “i’m hot, i’m gonna put my jacket in the cloak room.”

“ok, let’s go!” you two dance-walk out of the crowd and through the tunnels to the cloak room.

“here, put your jacket into mine so we only have to pay for one hanger” you order billie. she laughs at how frugal you are, giving you a ‘really?’ look but follows you orders anyway.

after you’ve successfully put your jackets away, you walk to the bar in search of hydration. as you two are chugging your pints of water, ‘i know a place’ by muna comes on.

“ohhhhh! i LOVE this song! dance floor. now.” you tell billie, slamming your cup down, and yank her with you.

“the first time i came here when i was 18 this song played. it was like a euphoric scene from an indie movie” you cheese, recollecting the first night you truly felt free in your body.

by the time the pre chorus arrives, you’re screaming along, getting ready for the beat to drop. once it does, the two of you jump with it. your enthusiasm has rubbed off on billie - she can’t help it when you look so adorable.

billie places her hands on your hips as you’re swaying them and pulls you closer so that the front of your body is pressed against hers. the two of you dance in sync, whilst you comb your fingers through her ever-so-slightly damp hair.

both of you stare deep into each others eyes, billie brings her face closer to yours. “you look so beautiful, y/n” she says with her forehead resting on yours as you sway.

her words cause you to cradle her head, searching for more intimacy amongst the bustling crowd of sweaty bodies. you lean in to kiss her, but quickly stop yourself, unsure of billie’s comfort level.

she notices your hesitation and squeezes your waist to tell you to continue. at that, your mouths connect and you make out with her. the climax of the song crescendos as your lips meet and hundreds of pink balloons fall from the sky. you both peer up in response to the roar from everyone around you, seeing the balloons.

giggling, your lips meet again, but this time only for a quick kiss. “the indie movie continues” you quip, pulling back.

various songs soundtrack your night, the two of you cycling through jumping up and down, swaying against each other, and heading back to the bar for more water.

while you’re on the dance floor some girl bumped into you - she’s obviously very drunk. the two of you are making small conversation, you blowing off her apologies for hitting you. amidst you little conversation, the beat drops into ‘treat me like a slut’ causing you to shoot back around to billie in amazement.

you’ve both agreed before that this is a song that will always make you feral, no matter the situation.

the ghost of slutty past takes over your body and you turn your body so that your back is now to billie. she knows exactly what’s about to happen, so she grabs onto your hip with one hand and uses the other to push your head down so you’re bent over in front of her.

immediately your back arches and your ass starts jumping. you shake ass against billie - her hands occasionally grabbing a handful of you, or her hand pulling down your skirt for you (she’s more concerned about your modesty than you are right now).

billie crosses her arms so they can hold your opposite hip, and begins to thrust into you. you catch on to her rhythm, and sync your ass so it bounces as her hips meet yours. with your hands on your knees you turn your head and look up at billie - a submissive look in your eyes.

she says nothing but smacks your ass and uses your hair to pull you upright again, the front of your bodies flush again. billie wraps her right arm around your waist and uses her left hand to coax your head towards her mouth. she swerves, though, and whispers “careful, princess” in your ear. you gasp slightly, only loud enough for you to hear, but billie feels you tense under her touch.

[brookediamonds]

can you make a fic where the fem reader and axel are sort of rivals (academically and athletically) where axel likes to tease the reader by calling her "princess" and its like a slow burn between the two, and theres lots of sexual tension between them, and they end up making out while sparring. (maybe even some slight smut) and love ur work btw!!

talk too much | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: After four years of rivalry between you and Axel, you both come to your breaking points unable to avoid the friction that's been pent up.

Word Count: 3.7k Warnings: enemies to lovers, smut, oral (f receiving) 18+, minors dni

gif is not mine

The classroom was buzzing with conversations about the group projects due this week, but all you could focus on was him.

Axel sat beside you in his desk, one arm lazily draped over the back of his chair, the other tapping a pen against his textbook.

He was too relaxed, too smug for someone who was supposed to be under the same deadline as you.

Your group projects were due at the end of the week, and of course, you and Axel had been placed in separate teams, each tasked with presenting a solution to the same problem.

The entire class had turned it into a competition before the teacher even announced the assignment.

It was you versus him. Again.

For all of high school, you and Axel had competed for the best grades, best projects, extra credit, the number one spot as Valedictorian, and of course the best in karate.

Your eyes flickered to his notebook, his messy, slanted handwriting sprawled across the page, filled with calculations and notes that you knew were meant to be impressive.

You hated that you were impressed.

"You look stressed, princess." Axel’s voice cut through the noise, smooth and teasing as he leaned forward slightly. "Having trouble with the reading?"

You scoffed, setting your pen down with an audible clack. "I’d be more worried about yourself, Axel. You look awfully confident for someone who's about to lose."

"Oh? And what makes you so sure?" He tilted his head, a slow smirk curling at his lips.

"Because I actually did the research," you shot back, pushing a thick stack of highlighted notes toward him for emphasis. "While you were probably wasting time thinking of new ways to be insufferable."

Axel hummed, glancing at your papers before meeting your gaze again. "That’s cute. You really think memorizing a bunch of facts is gonna make up for a lack of creativity?"

Your jaw clenched, eyes narrowing towards him. "You—"

"Okay, everyone!" The teacher’s voice interrupted your brewing argument, forcing you both to pull back, but neither of you looked away.

Even as the teacher spoke, your eyes stayed locked in silent challenge.

You were going to crush him.

And he knew it.

Because he was thinking the same thing about you.

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

The classroom was alive with anticipation, the hum of whispers and rustling papers barely masking the brewing storm between you and Axel.

You sat across from him, arms crossed, eyes locked, the air between you crackling like a live wire.

The entire class had turned their attention to your teams, more specifically, to you and him.

It was no secret that every assignment, every challenge, every breath between you two had been a competition since freshman year.

And now, standing at the front of the class, presenting opposing solutions to the same project, it was clear that neither of you intended to back down.

Axel leaned against the podium in your debate class, his usual lazy smirk in place as he flipped through his notes.

"Your plan is logical," he admitted, tilting his head as if considering it. "But it’s also completely predictable. No originality, no risk."

Your eyes narrowed. "My plan is effective. It actually works. Unlike your overcomplicated mess of a solution."

A few classmates murmured at the sharpness in your voice, but Axel only grinned.

"Oh, princess," he drawled, leaning forward slightly. "Effective isn’t the same as best. And I like to win with a little style."

Your stomach flipped at the nickname, stupid, infuriating nickname, but you didn’t let it show.

"Then explain why your ‘stylish’ approach is statistically less reliable," you shot back, tapping the projected data on the board behind you. "Or do you just feel like it’s better?"

Axel exhaled sharply, pushing off the podium.

"You really think spitting out a bunch of numbers makes you right?" His voice was lower now, a little more serious, a little more challenging.

You lifted your chin. "I think facts do, yeah."

He stepped closer. "Then maybe—"

"OH MY GOD, JUST KISS ALREADY!"

A mix of laughter and gasps filled the room, the heat in your face skyrocketing.

You and Axel both snapped toward the interruption, only to find Hawk leaning back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, looking absolutely thrilled with himself.

Axel went completely still beside you. He didn’t turn red, didn’t flinch, but his jaw ticked just slightly, just enough for you to notice.

"Shut. Up." You shot Hawk the deadliest glare you could muster.

Hawk only wiggled his eyebrows. "Not denying it, huh?"

The teacher sighed, rubbing his temples. "Enough. Both of you, sit down. Now."

You barely heard him. Your whole body was burning, but not from embarrassment, no, it was something else. Something worse.

Because when you turned back to Axel, he was already looking at you. Not with smugness. Not with amusement.

With something darker. Something unreadable.

You held his stare for a second longer than you should have before shoving past him toward your seat.

The tension in the room didn’t fade.

Neither did the tension between you and Axel.

And by the time the final bell rang, you knew this wasn’t over.

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

The dojo was empty except for the dim glow of the overhead lights and the faint echo of your breath.

You stood in the center of the mat, fists clenched, muscles coiled, waiting.

Axel stood across from you, mirroring your stance. He hadn't said a word when you'd challenged him after school, just given you a slow, knowing smirk and showed up here hours later.

No audience. No interruptions. Just you and him.

"Still mad about losing in class?" Axel taunted, rolling his shoulders. "Or do you just like spending extra time with me, princess?"

You rolled your eyes, stepping back into your beginning stance. "I came here to win."

"Then show me," Axel’s grin sharpens, moving back to hold his hands up.

The second he finished speaking, you lunged forward.

Fists met forearms, dodges turned into counters, steps became a blur across the mat. Every move, every strike, every dodge was charged.

It wasn’t just a fight. It was something else entirely, something unspoken but undeniable.

You swept his leg, he barely avoided it. He caught your wrist, you broke free in seconds. The frustration, the anticipation, the tension from the classroom, it was all bleeding into this.

You moved too fast, miscalculating your next step. Axel saw it before you did. He grabbed your arm, twisting effortlessly, sending you off-balance.

You stumbled, and before you could recover, he had you pinned against the mat.

His hands were braced on either side of your head, caging you in. His chest was rising and falling hard, just like yours.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you breathed.

You should shove him off. You should say something sharp, something cutting, something, anything.

But you didn’t.

Because Axel was looking at you again. That look. The one from earlier. Dark. Intent. Certain.

And then he moved.

His lips crash against yours with a hunger that steals your breath. 

The impact is electric, violent, inevitable. His mouth is hot and demanding, nothing like the careful, uncertain kisses you've had before. 

This is raw. This is real. This is everything you've been pretending not to want.

Your body responds before your mind catches up, fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. 

He tastes like mint and the scent of his cologne, fills your lungs as you breathe him in, drowning in sensations you've denied yourself for too long.

Axel makes a sound against your mouth, something between a groan and a sigh, like he's both victorious and defeated at once. 

His fingers thread through your hair, cradling the back of your head against the mat. The weight of him presses you down, solid and warm against every inch of you.

A delicious pressure that makes your skin burn beneath your practice clothes.

You should hate this. You should hate him. But the line between hatred and desire has never been thinner.

"I knew it," he whispers against your mouth, his accent slipping through, thicker now with emotion. "I knew you wanted this as much as I did."

Something in you rebels at his smugness, even now. You bite his lower lip, not quite gently, and feel him tense above you.

"Don't flatter yourself," you breathe, but your hands betray you, sliding up his back, feeling the taut muscles shift beneath your fingertips.

Axel pulls back just enough to look at the blush upon your face. 

His eyes are almost luminous in the dim light of the dojo, pupils dilated with desire. His chest rises and falls against yours, the rhythm unsteady and quick.

You can feel his heartbeat hammering through his thin t-shirt, matching the frantic pace of your own.

"What?" you challenge, trying to sound defiant despite the breathlessness in your voice. "Surprised that I don't just roll over and surrender like everyone else?"

His laugh is low and appreciative, vibrating through you where your bodies connect. 

"God, no. That's exactly what I love about you." The word 'love' hangs in the air between you, neither acknowledged nor retracted. "You never make anything easy."

"I could say the same about you," you manage, trying to ignore how his thumb is now tracing slow circles against your temple, how his hips are pressed firmly against yours, how every slight movement sends sparks cascading through your body.

Axel's eyes drift down to your lips, swollen from his kisses. 

"Always fighting me," he murmurs. "Always pushing back."

His fingers trail down your neck, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. 

"You like the push back," you tease him, a smirk tugging at your lips. 

His eyes darken at your words, his fingers pausing their descent at the hollow of your throat. For a moment, you think you've pushed too far, said too much.

But then his lips curve into that infuriating smirk that's haunted your dreams for years.

"You have no idea," Axel whispers, his accent thickening with each word, "how fucking hot it is when you fight back."

The confession hangs between you, honest and raw in a way that makes your breath catch. His eyes hold yours, searching for something, permission, perhaps, or denial.

You give him neither, just the same challenging stare you've always offered.

His hand slides lower, skimming over your collarbone, down to where your practice shirt clings to your body. The touch is deliberate, testing, waiting for you to stop him. 

"Four years," he continues, voice rough. "Four years of watching you challenge everything I do. Four years of wondering what you'd taste like."

His words send a tremor through your body, a weakness you've never allowed yourself to show. 

"And now?" you ask, your voice barely audible in the empty dojo.

Axel's eyes flash with something primal. "Now I don't have to wonder anymore."

His eyes never leave yours as he begins to move, sliding down your body with deliberate slowness.

The mat crinkles beneath his knees as he repositions himself, his hands trailing fire along your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

"Tell me to stop," he challenges, his voice a husky whisper that echoes in the empty space. "Tell me this isn't what you've been thinking about every time we've fought."

You say nothing, your chest rising and falling rapidly, the silence between you charged with years of tension finally breaking. Your silence is answer enough.

His fingers find the waistband of your gym shorts, hooking into the elastic with agonizing precision. 

"You’ve kept me waiting long enough," you breathe out, your attitude never failing to fully leave you. 

The corner of Axel's mouth twitches upward at your command, the challenge in your voice igniting something fierce in his eyes. 

"Always so demanding," he murmurs. "Even now."

Before you can retort, his fingers tighten on your waistband, and with one fluid motion, he drags your shorts down your legs. 

Your breath catches in your throat as Axel's eyes drop to take in what he's revealed.

There, in stark contrast to the dimly lit dojo, your neon yellow underwear practically glows against your skin. 

The bright, unapologetic color seems to capture everything about you that he's always found irresistible, bold, unexpected, refusing to be ignored.

Axel's breath catches visibly, his pupils dilating as he takes in the sight of you beneath him.

His fingers hover just above the bright fabric, trembling slightly. The first sign of uncertainty you've ever seen from him.

"Yellow," he murmurs, his voice rough with appreciation. "Of course it would be yellow. Bright enough to blind me."

You say nothing, can't say anything, your breath shallow and quick as you watch him watching you.

The cool air of the dojo raises goosebumps across your exposed thighs, a stark contrast to the heat pooling low in your belly.

"I should have known," he continues, "that even your underwear would be a statement. Nothing subtle about you, is there, princess?"

The term of endearment that normally makes you bristle now sends a shiver down your spine. 

Your lips part to respond, but the words die in your throat as Axel finally, finally reaches between your legs, softly running his fingers over the fabric covering your heat.

His touch sends an electrifying feeling through you. 

"God," he breathes, voice strained as he traces the outline of you through the thin material. "You're already so wet."

Your hips twitch involuntarily, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of him. His eyes flick up to catch yours, that infuriating smugness returning to his features.

"Impatient?" he asks, but his voice lacks its usual edge, replaced by something darker, hungrier.

"You talk too much," you manage to say, though your voice trembles betrayingly.

Axel's laugh is low and dangerous. "Maybe. But I want to hear you say it."

You groan impatiently, sitting up on your elbows to yell at him before he gives in. The words form on your tongue, sharp and biting, ready to slice through his smugness, but they never make it past your lips.

Because Axel leans forward in one swift motion, pressing his mouth against the thin yellow fabric between your legs. 

The heat of his breath seeps through immediately, and your planned insult dissolves into a gasping moan that echoes through the empty dojo.

Your head falls back, elbows nearly giving way as the sensation ripples through your body.

The ceiling blurs above you, the lights creating halos in your vision as you struggle to process the feeling of his mouth against you.

"That's better," he murmurs against your inner thigh, his lips moving against your sensitive skin. "Much better than arguing."

His fingers hook into the sides of your underwear, tugging them down your legs with deliberate slowness. 

The bright yellow fabric slides against your skin, catching slightly on your ankles before he frees them completely. 

You watch, breath suspended in your lungs, as Axel brings the underwear to his face, inhaling deeply with his eyes closed.

"I'm keeping these," he declares, his voice rough and possessive.

Before you can protest, he folds the bright yellow fabric with surprising care and tucks it deep into the pocket of his gym shorts. 

The sight of your most intimate garment disappearing into his possession sends a forbidden thrill through you, something primal and possessive that you've never felt before.

"You can't just—" you start to object, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"I can," he interrupts, pressing a hand to your sternum and gently pushing you back down. "And I will. Something to remember this by."

He leans over you sloppily brushing his lips against yours, before he slides back down between your legs, pressing soft yet firm kisses to the insides of your thighs. 

Your protests die on your lips, replaced by a sharp intake of breath as his kisses move higher up your thighs. Each press of his mouth is deliberate, calculated, leaving no doubt about his destination.

He's taking his time. Savoring the journey. Making you wait.

Typical Axel. Even here, even now, he has to be in control.

His breath ghosts across your center, so close yet not touching, the anticipation building to an almost unbearable pressure. 

Your hips rise slightly, seeking contact, but his strong hands press down on your thighs, holding you in place.

"Always so impatient," he murmurs against your skin, his accent thicker now, rougher. "You never could wait for anything, could you?"

You open your mouth to snap back at him, but the words transform into a gasping moan as he finally, finally presses his lips to your center. 

You gasp, your fingers instinctively reaching down to tangle in his light brown hair.

Axel makes a sound against you, something between a growl and a moan, that vibrates through your core. 

His tongue traces a slow, long path along your folds, exploring you with the same meticulous attention he gives everything that matters to him.

"Fuck," he breathes against you, pulling back just enough to look up at your flushed face. "You taste even better than I imagined."

Your back arches as his strong hands lift your thighs over his shoulders, changing the angle. You can't hold back the moan that escapes you.

"Tell me, princess," he murmurs against your inner thigh, "have you thought about this too? About me?"

You open your mouth to deny it, to lie, but his tongue finds your center again and the truth spills out instead.

"Yes." A breathless admission. "All the time."

His eyes flash up to meet yours, triumphant. Hungry. "I knew it."

He devours you then, all pretense of teasing gone. His mouth works against you with the same intensity he brings to everything, relentless, skilled, determined to win.

His tongue circles your clit before flattening against it, the pressure perfect and maddening.

Your fingers tighten in his hair. You're making sounds he could only hear in his dreams, to hear them now out loud, was captivating. 

The pressure builds inside you, winding tighter with each stroke of his tongue. Your head thrashes against the mat, control slipping away with every second.

"Axel—" His name tears from your throat, half-warning, half-plea.

He doesn't stop. If anything, he intensifies his efforts, one hand sliding up to grip your hip, pinning you firmly against his mouth. 

His other hand moves between your legs, fingers teasing your entrance before slowly pressing inside.

The intrusion makes you gasp, walls clenching around his fingers as he curls them forward, finding that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

"That's it," he murmurs against you, his voice vibrating through your core. "Let go for me. Show me."

Your rivalry, your pride, your stubborn need to win, none of it matters now. There's only sensation, only Axel

The tension in your body builds to a crescendo. Your back arches off the mat, pleasure radiating from your core in waves.

You try to bite back the sounds escaping your throat, but Axel's relentless attention tears them from you.

"Stop fighting it," he growls against your flesh. "Let me hear you."

His fingers curl inside you again, his tongue circling your clit with devastating precision. Your thighs begin to tremble against his shoulders.

"Axel!" His name breaks from your lips as the first waves of your orgasm crash through you. Your body convulses, inner walls pulsing around his fingers.

He doesn't stop. Doesn't even slow down. His eyes remain fixed on your face, watching you come undone with an intensity that only heightens your pleasure.

Axel doesn't relent, drawing out your climax until you're trembling, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his shoulders.

"You're beautiful when you let go," he murmurs, his accent thick with desire. "When you stop fighting me."

You want to bite back, but you're too boneless, too sated to summon your usual fire.

Instead, you watch through half-lidded eyes as he lowers his head again, this time pressing his lips to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

He doesn't say anything as he kisses the inside of your thighs again, this time leaving love bites and hickies to mark you as his. 

The first press of his teeth against your sensitive skin makes you gasp. 

The sensation borders on pain before melting into something else entirely, something primal and possessive that makes your stomach tighten all over again.

Axel takes his time, methodical in his attention. Each mark is placed with deliberate care, high enough to be hidden during the day, but positioned where only he would know they exist. 

His eyes flick up to yours after each one, gauging your reaction, seeking permission without words.

You should protest. Should tell him to stop. These marks are declarations, claims staked on your body that will remain long after you leave this dojo. 

But you don't. 

Instead, you thread your fingers through his hair, neither pulling him away nor pulling him closer. Just holding him there, in this moment.

"So you get my underwear and I get your…" You trail off as he finishes leaving his trail of markings on your skin. 

He smirks, completing your sentence for you. "My undivided attention. My mouth. My fingers. My..." His eyes darken, flickering down your body then back to your face. "Everything."

You shift beneath him, propping yourself up on your elbows, still trembling slightly from your release. His everything.

"Is that right?" you challenge, finding your voice again. "Your everything? Pretty bold claim for someone who's only gotten started."

Axel's eyes darken at your words, pupils dilating. His fingers trace idle patterns on your thighs, each touch sending aftershocks through your sensitized body.

"You doubt me?" His accent thickens with each word, rolling off his tongue in a way that makes your stomach tighten. 

You push yourself up fully, closing the distance between your faces. Your legs are still draped over his shoulders, your body still exposed to his hungry gaze.

The position would make you feel vulnerable, but instead, you feel powerful, seeing the raw need etched across his features.

"Take me home and show me properly," you say teasingly biting your lip.

Axel's eyes flash at your challenge, something primal and possessive darkening his features. His hands tighten on your thighs before sliding down to grip your waist, pulling you up against him in one fluid motion.

You're suddenly pressed chest to chest, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His arousal presses against you through his gym shorts, hard and insistent.

"Careful what you ask for, princess," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "I've been holding back."

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath his thin t-shirt. 

"I've never known you to hold back anything."

He laughs, the sound low and dangerous. 

"You have no idea."

And just like that, your shorts are back on, with Axel hot on your heels as you both beeline for your cars, and speed to your home where you have finally crossed the line between being rivals to now lovers.

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

Masterlist

Taglist: @ggrgcribg

(a/n: i loved this one a little too much, the enemy trope is so fun to write. a little off topic but do any of y'all follow along Jackie and Shadow the eagles? they remind me of my sunshine!axel x grumpy!reader trope, i might write a one shot on that bc it's so funny the way Jackie puts up with Shadow 😭🤣 anywho, hope you enjoyed this

ps. sorry i got carried away with the smut)

[kiwi-but-the-bird-not-the-fruit]

Helloo

Ur nefero fics are soo good😙 Could you write something like maybe how much he worships reader?? Thank uu<3

Great minds think alike bestie I'd love to write this sooo here we go!

__________________________________________

Male Nefera x fem! Reader

Prompt: Nefero but he's just worshiping you

She her pronouns

Fluff/kissing/female worship/

Image not mine found in pinterest

(I'm obsessed this is literally how he sees you full goddes)

__________________________________________

Nefero looks at you with adoring eyes as you talked about the book you had just finished,eyes lit up,hands moving all around for emphasis on a specific part of the story that you said in I quote "was the most unrealistic thing ever" you keep talking/rambling off to your boyfriend at your table in the (just them since he liked days where it was just the two of you).

[Name] let out a frustrated sigh as she finished speaking "like it's totally crazy right Nefie?" You stopped waiting for his response "yes very" he nodded his head hoping you'd continue talking till your heart's content "thank you ugh, you get me" then she continued for the remaining lunch time while taking breaks to actually eat.

"Is there something on my face?" [Name] asked, quickly getting out a small mirror "No your fine, my jewel excuse my rudeness" he sets down the mirror from your hands and took it; placing it back in your purse "oh well that's okay, I love when you stare though please tell me i have nothing on my face next time haha" the ghoul looked away sheepishly "it's always nice to know you still look at me that way really" she said earnestly "I'll always admire your beautiful self,all day if you asked me too" Nefero took her hand in his smiling wide "hehe you got smile lines Nefie" "WHAT?!"

In their class Nefero is yet again looking at [Name] with heart shaped pupils in his purple eyes, he watched as you reapplied your lip gloss "so you like this color on me?" You turn your head to him and pointed at the lip gloss bottle and then your lips ``it looks absolutely Divine on you my queen" he told you sincerely

The two walk out of school the day had finished and now it was time to get you home "are you gonna stay home with me? I'm making dinner today" you asked your boyfriend looking at his hands intertwined "of course my jewel but I need to go home and change first" [Name] looked at him perplexed "but I have some of your clothes at my house, why not shower and change there?" She tilted her head "my jewel you only have my shirts not pants or shorts" he teased

"Ohhh haha right" she looked to the side "maybe I should steal your pants so you won't have to go and change" "What?" [Name] looked at him "Well if I have some of your clothes other than shirts you won't have to be apart from me! Plus we could shower together, did you know that can save our water bill" you tried to play it off with some "statistics"

Nefero held your face in his hands smirking at you;making your face feel hot"My dear we can do that anytime you wish no need for an excuse" he leaned in and kissed your lips gently,you hummed through the kiss then separated making Nefero pout "oh stop you big baby let's get going so you can change quickly at your house and take me to mine" "but don't you have to start dinner?"

"Nah my parents won't be home till late I have time" you explain " now come on I wanna choose your outfit" taking his hand [Name] dragged him to his limo

_________________________________

[Name] is seen in her kitchen cooking up a meat stew and some rice she wears a "kiss the cook" apron which happens a lot when Nefero is around so she thought why not buy it

She hums along the song on the radio as she puts in a some herbs in the stew and then stirred it thoroughly

Nefero is at the stool of the kitchen island sipping at the strawberry smoothies he made for the both of you with your blender "it smells incredible my jewel" he compliments, [Name] turns around with a smile "would you like to try the stew?" He eagerly nods anything you make was bound to be heavenly he felt so lucky he gets to try it first "Alright here" your bring a soup spoon to his lips and he opens his mouth and swallowing the the liquid gold, it was savory and spicy the meat was tender and with the potatoes, corn, and carrots made all the better.

"Ahhh that is absolutely exquisite" he looks into your eyes with a smile as he leans forward making a move to kiss you and you obliged "muaw!" You gave him a quick kiss dramatically sounding it, he immediately pouted "I want an actually kiss" you sighed and go around towering over him seductively "oh really?" He nodded again

"Alright only cause you asked" you lean down grabbing his collar and pulled him into a deep kiss, he opened his mouth and let you in, moaning as you dominated his tongue then you let him go "there" you panted " *deep exhale* thank you my queen" Nefero wraps his arms on your hip and leans his head onto your stomach while he's still sitting down.

[Name] ruffles his hair up giggling at his cuteness "of course my king" you stayed like that for a few more minutes until you said you had to check on the food which he whined but let you go

He can't help the way your presence makes him feel giddy with excitement, the smell of your sweet perfume, holding you in his embrace, bodies squished together, hearing your heartbeat as he rests his head on your chest at night.

"You look absolutely gorgeous" he said all of a sudden at the dinner table as you ate in comfortable silence "really?" Nefero nodded "you do and I just can't help saying it, in fact it's my duty to tell you any time I see fit, which to be frank is all the time" [Name] looked at him bewildered as if this was a new thing

Yet it wasn't but still it warmed your heart he still looked at you that way for a moment you didn't say anything then with a smile you responded "thank you, my love it means alot that you still admire me like this" she admitted "my queen" he held her hand "I cannot fathom a second in my life where I don't worship your entire being, it's in my nature to do so, for only you"

He lifted her hand and kissed it then continued up until he was met only inches away from her face, looking at her eyes [Name]'s breath hitch then Nefero kissed her cheek gently "would you let me worship you tonight my queen" he said above a whisper "well..." she looked at the clock "they won't be here in about another 6 hours..." she thought about it then looked at him patiently waiting 'why not' [Name] got up and dragged him by the sleeves and up to her bedroom "Let's see how much worship I can get you to say, that suddenly it sounds like a prayer~"

____________________________________________

I feel conflicted with this one, I like the way I wrote it but idk if it truly captured the promt but I feel like this is better than what I write previously

I tried my best but head empty no thoughts I guess, still hope you like it maybe I'm just having imposter syndrome

[w2sology]

can i request a wedding day fic for harry pls? no worries if not. could also be a wedding day hc if that’s easier. thank u!

YES YES YES i'm so in love w this idea.... and i’m also so in love w harry 😣 tried not to make the descriptions of things too specific bc i know everyone has a different idea of what they want their wedding to be like, so most of this is up to ur imagination! <3

mrs wroetoshaw, harry lewis.

summary: you and harry get married, and it's full of so many emotions.

warnings: language, wedding jitters, that's about it!

you both being a nervous mess. it's a canon event.

both of you in separate rooms but still feeling united in your panic

the boys would be trying to reassure harry whilst he pretty much undresses himself in stress, complaining that it's too hot

the girls trying to make sure you don't cry and ruin your makeup

but eventually you both get over it, realising that it's your special day and it's also the day you and harry become best friends for life

the girls all telling you how they've always known you were going to be mrs wroetoshaw from the beginning and you tearing up at that

he would be an absolute mess seeing you walk down the isle, he told everyone he wouldn't cry but god was he wrong...

is it really harry if he doesn't drop a few jokes in his speech? exactly.

olive as your ring bearer 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

once the ceremony part is over, everyone is honestly so glad that they made it through in one piece

being ambushed with kisses and hugs of congratulations from everyone !!!!

harry had his suit matching your dress, down to his socks and underwear bc happy wife = happy life xo

the after party... the boys literally could not wait for it

best man and maid of honour speeches pretty much exposing the both of you but you wouldn't have it any other way!

the slow dance us a must, and even though he'd nag on about how cringe it was, harry would be loving every moment of it

"you're so beautiful" and "can't believe i made you mine for life" being whispered to you by him all day

harry can't wait to use the phrase "my wife", he's literally been using it since you two got engaged tbf

"can this thing end already so we can christen the new home?"

"harry! we haven't even cut the cake yet."

handsy harry. SO handsy. he literally can't believe that he's married because he never saw himself as the type to settle down, but here he is and he's gonna show that off

once he has a few drinks in him he really starts to let loose

and so do you!

dancing with your girls, holding a random child's hands as you bask in the joy of the day

the older guests start to retire to their hotel rooms or homes before everyone else, and when the party starts to die down, harry quite literally scoops you up in his arms and leaves

lots and lots of smiley kisses, kisses on your cheek... anywhere that he can reach

harry fiddling with your ring, something he's always done when you wear them but this time, it feels more special.

you already making plans on what you'll do as a married woman, harry rolling his eyes but you already know he'd be right behind you

he'd be in such a hurry trying to undress himself when you guys get back to your room, a giggling mess in between a make-out session as he tries to take off his top

"i love you so much," he's mumbling to you. "my pretty, pretty wife."

and you're in for a hell of a ride.

[nanaminsmoon]

hiiii, so sorry if this is a lil long but bare w me pls, i love ur writing btw <3

ok: reader & plug!ony broke up about a year ago bc of something ony did (something bad but not like 100% unforgivable) but the feelings never left. he’s been tryna get her back over the year but she wasn’t budging cus she hadn’t seen any growth. recently tho she’s noticed he’s growing & she misses him. then at a function, she sees him pop out w a new girl & all their friends are staring at her like waiting for a reaction and in a littleee moment of jealousy, she goes up to ony like “you’re mine for life right?” and he jumps away from the other girl so fast like he BEEN waiting on this news 😭😭

omg thank you!! i was about to write something just like this but this is so much better!! i hope you like it and i'm sorry it took so long i just wanted it to be okay😭

cw: kinda angsty, oral (f receiving), car sex, ony calls reader 'ma', n word usage, mentions of breeding.

wc: 3913

atonement is hardly ever easy, and ony knew that first-hand. closing the gap between you and the person you once held closest to you can, surprisingly, be very difficult. even if a year of ‘separation’ is spent showing up at your ex-lovers’ door, or workplace, nail tech, or hair lady’s house. sometimes getting back to where you once where is needlessly difficult. especially if your definitions of said place are vastly different.

from the outside looking in, you and ony’s relationship had been picture perfect. he loved you as much as you loved him, and he wasn’t shy about it. everyone knew not to even look at you wrong, because they knew that they would have ony to deal with—and no one fucked with ony’s girl. except for him. because that picture had been held by a fraudulent frame; purposely hung over the large dent in your relationship. that being, his occupation.

from small kickbacks, to rich white kids who want to snort rebellion off their house keys, everyone had one thing in common—ony. no party started until ony got there and, as happy as you were for him, that didn’t come without its burdens. ony was almost always out dealing, giving you very little quality time to hang out. on the few occasions you got his undivided attention for more than a few hours, your peace would be interrupted by the ear-splitting noise erupting from his stupid nokia burner phone.

of course, small huffs of disappointment would slip past your lips when he told you that he had to leave. but you were used to it now, and that’s what helped ony sleep at night; knowing that you had become inured to his disconcerting disappearances, and abrupt reappearances. you knew that other people needed him, even if it meant that your needs were temporarily pushed aside. one time you had asked him, why it always had to be him that they called, and his response had been:

”my shit is the best, ma.”, said through a chortle, as he put his shoes on by your front door.

”i get that, but what about me?”, your arms crossed, as you tilted your head at your man—ony’s weakness. once you did that, with that look in your eyes, he couldn’t say no to you. but tonight, his priorities were different.

just let me do what i gotta do, and i’ll come right back to you. then i’m yours for the whole night.”, he had reassured, kissing your temple.

”just for the night?”, you scoffed.

”for life. now stay here, and i’ll be back.”, and that would appease you for the evening. but there’s only so much cracking one heart can do, before no adhesive can keep it whole, and it shatters into a million pieces. that night, you stripped yourself of ony’s shirt you had been wearing, and threw it into the corner of your bedroom; it smelt too much like him, and you hated it.

harmless hatred became deep disdain on the evening of your birthday. you had organised a dinner for a few of your closest friends and family, and had vehemently stressed to ony that he had to be there on time. because, if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t just be wasting your time, but he’d be wasting that of those closest to you as well. and he had promised you that if there’s something that had to be handled during the time of your dinner, he’d get connie or eren to do it so he could be with you. but 15 minutes of waiting for him became 30. and 30 soon became an hour, and your friends grew reasonably irate due to hunger. so you said they could order, and you’d just call ony one more time. but in a time where all you wanted to hear was your boyfriend’s voice, all you were met with was rings on the other line. that sound resounded all over the side of your face. and that feeling grew once the realisation hit that had you been a client, he wouldn’t have let the phone ring for more than five seconds. and that gave you a lot to think about.

you didn’t know how long the dinner lasted because your focus had remained on keeping your tears from falling into your food. you hated how pitiful you looked, lifting your head up every time someone walked into the restaurant, and the crestfallen expression that landed on your face each time you saw it wasn’t ony. it made no sense to you how the man who swore he would do anything for you, the man who placed a band on your ring finger, promising you that one day he’d marry you. the man who swore he had never loved anyone more than you, refused to put you before something so fleeting.

ony finally did show up though…two hours after the dinner had ended. heartbroken cries in your bedroom, had constantly been interrupted by calls coming from ony’s contact. but every single one went unanswered; he needed to feel what you felt when he had embarrassed you in front of your loved ones. though mere missed calls could never compare to the taste of your celebratory dinner food meshing awkwardly with the swallowed cries in your throat, you had to make him feel a morsel of the anguish he had put you through.

if ony could’ve gone full 2000s rnb music video; shirtless, singing outside your window with his chain blowing in the windy rain, he would’ve done. he would’ve even started throwing pebbles if he could, but your apartment was too high on your building. so he just settled on incessantly pressing the button next to your door number. and, after the nth try, you opened the door for him and he ran inside—pressing the elevator button a thousand times once he got in. and, just as he was about to knock on the door, it opened. and you stood on the other side, utterly unimpressed; bonnet on, your own pyjamas (instead of one of his shirts), and eyes reddened by tears. the impact caused by his heart unceremoniously dropping to the pit of his stomach caused a soft sigh to leave his mouth. then his lips began moving to explain himself.

“look, i'm sorry. i lost track of ti—”, his explanations were waved off—your own thoughts outweighing whatever he had to say to you.

“we're done, ony.”, was all you said to him before closing the door, and ony’s brain turned off, then back on again because what the fuck did you just say??

“y/n, open the door”, he banged on the door. and, not wanting any noise complaints, you opened it.

“what?”, you scowled.

“the fuck you mean done? talk to me”, ony’s hand reached out to yours, but quickly retreated when you pulled back from him. you had never done that; even when you were mad at him, you at least gave him a chance to get back into your good books again.

“you missed my birthday dinner, ony”, your voice was small, tears about to fall yet again.

“i know, and i'm sor—”,

“two years in a row.”,

“like i said, i'm sor—”,

“and my graduation, the party we had when i finally got my drivers license, the lunch you promised me on my first day at my new job. and you were meant to be my date at my sisters wedding.”, every example was punctuated by your fingertip harshly poking at his chest, and the tears just started falling on their own.

“i'm sorry, y/n”, ony’s voice started cracking, as his hand embraced the hand you had been poking him with.

“sorry isn't good enough anymore, ony. i deserve someone who prioritises me”,

“but everything i do is for us.”, he kissed your hand, “imma use this money to buy you ever—”,

“do you not understand that i don't want your money or gifts? i want you, ony.”, your breathed out, exasperation deeply set in your voice, and in your slumping posture, “anyone could give me bags and shoes, ony. but only you could give me your time. but you won’t, and that's the problem”

“so what, this is it?”,

“until you figure yourself out, yeah.”, you slid your hand from him, “it pains me because i love you so much, but i can’t keep living like this. if you're not ready for a girlfriend then you should've never got with me”

“but i am ready”, he pleaded.

“then act like it.”. were the words that echoed in ony’s head every time he showed up to the places he saw you posting on your story—heart holding hopes that your paths would cross. you didn’t know how he did it, but ony became your shadow for nearly the whole year you spent separated. even when you told him to give it up, he refused; sending bouquets of flowers to your workplace every few days, talking to you through your friends and family, and even showing up to your job to make up for that lunch he promised you. it hurt you to turn him away when you could see in his eyes that he would give up the world to have you in his orbit again. but, when you would ask him about where he got the money to even buy you these flowers in the first place, his silence was very telling.

but word on the street was that ony was a changed man now. your sources told you that he wasn’t dealing as much, and he had gotten a job. those sources being his instagram story that you watched through a burner account. seeing him everywhere made it impossible for you to wash yourself of him completely, so desparate times called for desparate measures. you missed that man so much, it was driving you crazy. it pissed you off seeing him being the man you had asked him to be, but not having the chance to bask in his progress. your love for ony wouldn’t vanish overnight, but it sure as hell hadn’t faded in the year you had been separated either. you kept his shirts and hoodies, and the promise ring he bought you was still on your finger.

so elated didn’t even begin to explain the feeling in your chest when, upon arriving at some house party, one of your girls told you that ony was there too. you tried to not seem so eager, but you had no control over your heart beating rapidly at the idea that you might see him again. all you needed was for him to apologise one more time, and you’d be all his. that was until you came to find that there was a hole blocking your reunion—that hole being in the shape of some girl giggling in his face, as his arm sat around her waist. every fibre of your being urged you to stomp over there, and scream his ear off. but he wasn’t your man anymore so there was nothing you could do but kiss your teeth and glower that them.

no man, not even ony, could get in the way of you and your friends enjoying yourselves. so that’s exactly what you did. for an hour, or two, ony didn’t exist and you just laughed and danced with your friends. however, the end of that would be marked when you stood, talking some guy you had just met, and one of your friends nudged you and nodded in ony’s direction.

“that doesn't bother you?”, she asked, obviously asking about the girl sat on ony’s lap.

“why would it?”, you shrugged back.

“you ain't say you missed the nigga?”, your other friend chimed in.

“okay? that doesn't mean i want him back”, you lied through your teeth.

“so you’re just missing him as hobby?”, sasha laughed.

“leave me alone.”, you chided, and your friends dropped the whole thing. but you wished those saltine whispers of jealousy would leave your eyes, and let you at least pretend to enjoy yourself in peace.

and if it wasn’t them ruining your fun, it was the girl’s friends staring at you.

“why are her friends looking at me?”, you whispered to connie. he had come over to speak to you, and that had caught ony’s attention. mainly because he wondered why you were willing to speak to his friend, but not him.

“they’re gloating.”, connie put a comforting arm around you, and pulled you closer to himself.

“well, tell them to stop.”, as if you could feel ony’s eyes on you, you moved connie’s arm from you, and connie laughed before putting it back where it was.

“they won’t. in their mind, she stole ony from you.”, he explained, and you scoffed.

“pfft, i could get that nigga back anytime i wanted”, you retorted, earning some knowing looks from your friends, before unprecedented words fell from sasha’s mouth.

“then do it.”, she nudged you, “you keep saying you want him so bad, go get him. he’s your man. go collect him”, that didn’t sound like a suggestion, it sounded like a dare. and you were never one to back down from a dare.

“fuck it”.

you didn’t know where your strides were leading you until you were barging past ony’s friends to link your arm around his own. at first, his body went into fight or flight because he thought he was about to be robbed, then calm came in the sound of your voice,

“ony, baby, where did you go? i've been looking for you everywhere”, you made sure to stick yourself onto him, and he didn’t move from you because he was too busy comprehending what the fuck was going on.

“y/n?”,

“i thought you guys were done?”, miss.whatever-her-name-was, linked ony’s other arm with her own, and pulled him towards herself.

“yeah, so did i”, ony spoke under his breath, looking down at you in bewilderment as he thought to himself; ”how much did i fucking smoke?”.

“who’s done?”, you looked up at him, “you’re mine for life, right?”, you pouted up at him, and all those memories of that night he had promised you he wouldn’t be long, came flooding back—ony folded immediately.

“always.”, he grinned at you, simultaneously yanking his arm away from whatever her name was.

“ony?”, she complained—now it was your turn to gloat.

“what?”, he sneered at her.

“you told me you guys were done”, she whined, and he rolled his eyes at her.

“well then don’t believe everything a nigga tells you”, was his final rebuttal before he pulled you outside.

at first, you just sat in silence, taking in the cool summer breeze. but ony had questions and, more importantly, he wanted to hear your voice.

“you forgive me then?”, his elbow gently met your arm.

“who said that?”, you stared down at your feet, kicking into the ground beneath you.

“you don't forgive me but you wanna do all that shit back there?”, he laughed.

“she didn't look good for you”, you finally looked up at him, and ony just laughed at you.

“you don't know her”,

“i just got that vibe”, you feigned a shudder, eyes still on him.

“what'd you really want, y/n?”, his index finger lifted your chin.

“you.”, your frank demeanour, and sincere eye contact, blew ony’s eyes wide open.

“well, you got me.”, as much as ony had changed in that year, his love for you remained incorrigible, and he’d be dumb to try and convince you otherwise. so he wouldn’t; he’d been wanting you back for far too long, and he’d finally gotten what he wanted.

“that easy?”, you teased.

“even if you’re not mine, i’ll always be yours, y/n. you know that”, ony’s words directed themselves at your lips; brown irises stuck onto your shining gloss.

“well then…can i be yours again?”, you muttered apprehensively, and the pause after that comment was unreadable.

“y’don’t even have to ask, c’mere”, ony reached his hand out to you.

gentle fingers, interlocked with yours, led you out of the party, and down a road that would end at ony’s car—parked overlooking the local area. he wasted no time; unlocking it before opening the back door, and gesturing for you to get in.

"already? you don’t at least want to talk first?”, you laughed at how keen he was, and a lazy smirk graced his face.

”we’ll talk after. get in.”, any anger, or disappointment, built up over the time you were together, had been mollified with just one comment. missing ony was something you never wanted to do again, and seeing the person he had apparently become, meant that you probably never would. all memories of past arguments, and splits, dispersed in ony’s mind once his lips met yours in a fervent kiss. it was one of longing, and regret. the heat emanating off his body causing particles of his internal regret to fill the inside of the car. you could feel it bouncing off your skin, as his tongue met with yours, and his hands kneaded at your flesh through your clothes. ultimately moving south to help you shimmy your way out of your jeans and underwear. he wouldn’t take them off completely, just leave them by your ankles as he laid you on your back, his mouth already placing soft kisses on your upper thigh. that lasted all of five seconds before ony’s tongue was wrapping around your clit, sucking on it gently. for him, this was a meal that was long overdue, and you could feel it in the way he ate you out like a starved man. taking no breaks; wet noises and thirsty moans, omitted by the ever-moving mouth entertaining your core, pervaded the vehicle.

ony had always luxuriated in eating you out, so it wasn’t long until you came; a rivulet dousing his lower face, before he finally came up for air.

”you still taste as good as i remember”, he uttered lowly, moving to give you a taste of yourself as he pressed his lips against yours. his kisses were haste as his hands fumbled to pull down his jeans and boxers, to angle himself at your entrance. the way you took in that first inch of him had him incapacitated; his forehead dropped to meet yours, while deep groans left his mouth.

”fuck…”, ony had to pause to compose himself before he gently pushed the rest of his length inside you. once he did, he just stayed there; eyes locked with yours, thanks to the streetlights, and you could’ve sworn that this man was close to tears with the way his eyes were glossing over.

the way he was fucking you was ineffable; a year was nothing compared to the others ony had spent studying your body, and the things it reacted to. like the way you’d grow tighter around him at his hands pressing your legs against your chest, as he fucked into you. even in the confined space, head crouched down so he didn’t hit the ceiling, ony still fucked you like you were in the comfort of his bedroom—with all the space, and time, in the world. his ireful tip would caress that spongy spot inside of you, over and over again, making your head spin. all those years of learning your body had not been in vain, because a few minutes in that position, and you came around him. keening his name, as your back lifted off the leather seats. ony was planning on taking you back to his place, and making up for lost time properly. but, for now, he would just turn you around and fuck into you from the back—your hands immediately finding the steamy windows,

”don’t do that, ma. people will know what we’re doin’ in here”, he chuckled at you and you moaned out a distorted version of,

”and the moving car doesn’t make it obvious?”. somehow, ony understood you; he was just used to your fucked out rebuttals, and he scoffed at you before giving the moving flesh surrounding your hips two quick slaps. your hands grabbed at anything they could to gain balance, ultimately deciding on the arm rest on the door. and ony’s hands would follow suit, but as he went to intertwine your fingers, his hands were met with cold metal. it was pretty dark in there, so he couldn’t really make out what it was, but a fleeting headlight revealed the ring he had bought you.

“still got that ring on?”, he smiled to himself.

“you p-promised me…”, you stammered out.

“that i’d marry you.”, his eyes softened at the fact that you had been wearing that ring, despite not being together. all because of that lovestruck vow he had made you,

“and imma keep to that promise. imma marry you, then imma fuck some babies into you”, he spoke to you, “that okay with you?”, you moaned out in loud agreement, and that drove ony to fuck you harder.

“good.”, the thought of you being his wife, sat in your marital bed, with his child in your arms sent him over the edge, and ony came in you. deep hums, containing declarations of his love, spilt all over the back of your neck. but his hips didn’t still because he could feel you coming again.

once you both came down from your orgasms, ony laid you down on your side, before pulling his boxers and jeans up and leaving the car momentarily to turn the car on. he opened the windows slightly, before returning to the back of the car. his back would soon be attached to the back door, yours against his chest as your fingers intertwined. even though you hadn’t covered yourself yet, and his nut was leaking out of you onto the leather seats, everything just seemed perfect. in its own weird way; you in ony’s arms again, and his lips pressing loving kisses on your temple.

”y’know it would’ve taken just one more knock at my front door for me to forgive you?”, you looked up at him. and, once the initial shock subsided, he chuckled at you.

”but i kinda think it’s better this way.”, he shrugged.

”how?”, you sat up to face him properly.

”it felt good to finally be able to give you my attention when you asked it of me.”, he smiled, reaching out to stroke your cheek, ”no interruptions. just us.”, after all the emotional turmoil, it was nice hearing that word again; ”us”.

”for life.”, you kissed his knuckle.

”for life.”

© Rights owned by nanaminsmooninc. Do not repost without permission.

[pepi1989]

Hi love ur amazing 🫶 English isn’t my first language so I hope this makes sense. can you write a long story about Laver Cup where for the first time, a WTP player can join for a mixed doubles and a women’s match? And reader is the WTP tennis player on team Europe, with banter and mock rivalry between Team World since she’s close with them as friends but obviously being on opposing team means they have rivalry? And then both teams sitting on one sofa on the last day, Ben and reader getting very close together and flirting and the bench can picks up some of it and they both get asked separately on their team press conference?

Don't worry honey, your English is very good! Loved this idea, let's make it like they didn't make Ben play every doubles game lol

Rivals, or Something Like That - Ben Shelton

I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, watching Alcaraz and Zverev take on Team World. The match is intense, but it’s not what’s keeping my mind occupied. Across the court, in their red and black jackets, Ben and Frances are sitting on the Team World bench, loudly cheering for their teammates. And, of course, they’re throwing comments my way. Because why wouldn’t they? It’s Ben.

“[Y/N], you better be ready for a beatdown!” Ben’s voice echoes across the court, catching me completely off guard. He grins that grin, the grin while Frances chuckles beside him. I roll my eyes, trying to focus on the match, but honestly, all I can think about is what kind of beatdown he’s talking about. In tennis, obviously. Right?

I glance over at Grigor, who’s sitting next to me on the bench, and he just raises his eyebrows at me like he knows exactly what’s going through my head. “Don’t let him get in your head, [Y/N],” Grigor says with a smirk. I’m about to respond when Frances chimes in from across the court. “Don’t worry, [Y/N], we’ll go easy on you. We don’t want to make you cry.”

Oh, it’s like that?

“You two better focus on your team losing,” I shoot back, trying to hide my smirk. But Ben doesn’t let up. “We’ll see who’s crying when we’re done with you,” Ben calls, his voice all teasing but with this weird tension underneath it. It’s just banter, right? That’s what we always do. Except now, I can’t stop thinking about how Ben keeps looking over at me in between matches. And why is it that, every time he does, my stomach feels like it’s doing somersaults?

When the time finally comes for my match, I’m paired with Dimitrov against Ben and Frances. Of course it’s Ben. Because why wouldn’t it be? The whole thing feels weirdly set up, but I push those thoughts aside and focus. The first few rallies are tight, every point fought for. Ben’s powerful serves are no joke, but I’m managing to keep up. Still, every time I look across the net, I catch him looking at me, like we’re in some secret tennis duel only the two of us understand.

At one point, I miss a volley, barely, and Ben doesn’t let it slide. “Nice try, [Y/N],” he says with that smirk that’s becoming a little too familiar. “Need me to show you how it’s done?” Please. “Only if you want to lose faster,” I snap back, my heart racing, and not just because of the game.

But then Frances, being Frances, decides to make it even weirder. “Why don’t you two just get it over with already? You’ve been flirting all day.” I nearly choke on air. Excuse me? Ben just laughs, but the heat rushing to my face is undeniable. I shoot a glare at Frances, who is absolutely not helping. “Focus on the game, Frances,” I mumble, hoping no one else noticed. But, of course, everyone noticed.

After the match, we all end up backstage, completely exhausted. There’s this giant sofa that’s supposed to fit everyone, but honestly, it’s a miracle we’re not all on top of each other. And, because the universe has a sense of humor, I end up squished between Ben and Alcaraz. “Comfortable?” Ben asks, his voice a little too close for comfort as his leg presses up against mine. We’re basically sharing half the same cushion at this point, and I swear I can feel the warmth of his arm next to mine.

I don’t look at him, instead keeping my eyes on the ceiling, like that’s the most interesting thing in the world right now. “Oh yeah, super comfortable,” I deadpan, shifting slightly, but somehow, we end up even closer. The banter doesn’t stop, but now it’s all weirdly charged. I catch Ben’s grin out of the corner of my eye, and Frances, of course, just can’t let us be. “You two should really get your own sofa,” he mutters, not even bothering to hide his smirk.

I want to disappear. Is it that obvious? Ben just shrugs, leaning in a little more. “Hey, I’m not the one complaining.” At this point, Alcaraz and the rest of Team Europe are trying to stifle their laughter, but it’s no use. Everyone is in on the joke. Even Taylor Fritz from the other side of the room calls out, “Are you guys sure you’re on opposite teams? Because it doesn’t look like it.” “I’m about to switch teams if you keep this up,” I mutter under my breath, trying to ignore the fact that my face is probably bright red by now. Ben just smirks. “Don’t worry, [Y/N]. I’ve got room on Team World for you.”

What does that even mean?

The next day, we’ve won, and I’m sitting at the post-match press conference, trying to act like everything is normal. Except it’s not. Because the press? They’ve noticed everything. “So, [Y/N],” one journalist starts, and I can already tell this is going to be bad. “There’s been a lot of talk about your interactions with Ben Shelton during the tournament. Care to comment?”

I feel my face heat up, and my teammates are no help, stifling their laughter beside me. Dimitrov is the worst offender, elbowing me like he can’t wait to hear my answer. “We’re just friends,” I say, trying to play it off cool. But honestly, it sounds a lot less convincing than I wanted it to. The journalist presses on. “It seemed like there was a bit more than just friendly competition on that sofa yesterday.”

I hear someone, probably Zverev, laugh softly beside me. I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. “Look, we were just… you know, teammates… on opposing teams…” What am I even saying?

Meanwhile, across the room, Ben’s handling his own press conference, and of course, they’re asking him about the exact same thing. “Ben, there seemed to be some extra chemistry between you and [Y/N] during the tournament. Can you tell us what’s going on there?”

I’m watching from the screen backstage, my face burning as I wait for his answer. Ben just grins, leaning into the mic like this is the most natural question in the world. “Oh, we’re just having a little fun,” he says, clearly enjoying this way too much. “She’s a great competitor, no more than that.” But then he glances at the camera, and I swear he winks. “You’ll have to keep watching, though. Who knows what might happen next?”

[shizunitis]

No, ur absolutely so right about Bingcest. Preach louder because like. It’s just so fun. Any reason why they would be doing it is so fun. Is Bingge fucking Bingmei to show him how he needs to fuck Shizun? Is it a domination thing? What crazy kinks would Bingmei learn from Bingge? How would he try and incorporate them with Shizun? So many questions. I want Bingge to bite Bingmei’s lips when they kiss.

anon i love you and am willing to go through the abyss for you empty-handed and with my hands tied. will give you my firstborn. thank you for letting me talk about this please never leave me

now that the bingmei rp is over, and keeping in mind that i am forever sleep deprived, in a vaguely bingge mood, and also very sorry for what that means for any passersby, here’s my answer. horniness and thoughts (hopefully coherent enough) under the cut

though i find the shizun sandwich version of bingcest to be extremely tasty and a great apperitif, i feel like the pure bingge-bingmei storylines my brain throws at me every now and then are so fucking good (read: hhNnNg) on their own.

a non-exhaustive list of some ideas i didn’t ever think too deeply about but like for reasons:

what if bingge is bingmei’s shizun.

what if bingmei gets stranded in pidw.

what if bingge accompanies bingmei in the abyss.

what if instead of only having bingge and bingmei, we also throw in oo!lbh into the mix and make this the worst throuple to have ever existed.

what if the system fucks up and there’s two binghe’s from the very beginning, twins or clones or whatever, and they brave the world on their own so as not to strain the washerwoman’s already precarious situation further than they did the first time around.

what if bingmei wishes very, very hard for a father during his disciplehood, and the system plops bingge into his world when shen yuan is mia.

what if bingge goes out and tries to find the svsss world again but ends up in oo!pidw.

what if bingge and bingmei live to the ends of their lives and meet after the universe is wiped as cosmic beings and they have incomprehensible sex to soothe the pain.

what if bingmei suspects bingge came back to steal shizun during the monthly wifeplots, and just jumps the gun and goes after the fucker directly.

what if modern au.

what if modern au where they’re separated at birth.

what if actual lab clones of each other!

et cetera (many more examples. none of which i can think of right now and if i’m being honest? half of these i thought up on the fly, so i was lying. fibbing. other words. never ever assume i know what i’m talking about)

in any and all these situations shen qingqiu and/or shen yuan could and perhaps should be integrated, but for my purposes he can take a moment to breathe. i’ll return him his husbands shortly.

back to the point: i love every iteration of bingcest.

bingge and bingmei being very alpha vs. alpha about fucking and literally fighting for dominance. bingmei being horrible at kissing and bingge getting annoyed with the teeth thing and showing him how to actually bite someone (stealing your desires as they perfectly align with mine, anon) and then finding out that what bingge would consider lowly and ignoble (is that how you use the word? probably not), bingmei blushes and whines for so prettily.

exchanging blood and it fails to do anything but induce arousal in the other and then using that as a way to torment each other.

i want the snapping teeth and the clawing and the violence. the almost-tangible, suffocating hatred and frustration. them choking on their leashes tied together without their knowledge. choking on them where the’re tied to opposite ends of the bed as they try to get to the other. and so forth

but soft bingcest works beautifully too. don’t know how they’d end up in that situation but i’m picturing it and it’s very nice.

bingge’s vanity and desire to be perfect projected onto his own self staring back at him, bingmei’s bratty disobedience challenging bingge’s desire to subjugate and conquer and take, all of this culminating in the two of them understanding their differences but also loathing them in a way. why is he different, he’s me, why can’t he understand, why isn’t he doing what i would, why does he hate me, the likes

oh!! bingmei should yell that at bingge actually. or growl it while he pins bingge down to get him to listen to him. and bingge should want to say, “are you stupid?” but holds back because now isn’t the time. where did the brat even get that idea from? he’s done everything he could to make him stronger, to make him realise that the world is a shit, cruel place and they only have each other in the end, and yeah it’s a shit hand to be dealt, but is it? is it really?

hm. don’t really know where that thought ends up but i’m pretty sure it ends up with both of them fucking unbearably tenderly (by their standards) in a forest somewhere.

anyway.

i don’t mean to exclude shizun because. i wouldn’t fucking dare? but bingcest is. it’s dear to me. i’m a bingcest purist if you’d like, but bingcestqiu/yuan is second on the list. third is mobingcumplane/moshangbingqiu but that’s another thing altogether

(i have no actual clue if there’s ship names for these already. surely there are?)

BUT. adding shizun into the mix is wonderful. i’ve rec’ed it before but through the eye of a needle is SUCH a good fic PLEASE give it a read it’s my favourite fic ever ever in the history of ever

i love the idea of shizun trying to tame these two idiots and failing miserably. i also love the idea of him succeeding. i want bingmei making bingge drink some ‘respect shizun’ juice and i want bingge to give bingmei some much needed ‘fuck shizun’ lessons. i want shizun to direct their every movement while he casually drinks his tea and pretends like he’s not foaming at the mouth seeing the two protagonists being “forced” to go at each other like they’re passionate, devoted lovers.

just.

bingcest…

there’s so much i want from bingcest. i want the guilt, and the confusion, and the rage! i want the angst! the territorial spats, the dick measuring contests (literal and metaphorical). the comfort! the. idk man they should be allowed to be horrible to each other, it’s not like they can die.

(holy shit what if one of them dies. fuck i’m exhausted but please. kill one of them and make the other revive him. somehow. maybe we can make regret of chunshan reality but it’s bingcest, if you understand)

but mainly i want the two pretty idiots humping each other’s thighs like teenagers. making bingge crawl for bingmei is also a very fun thought that would make him (plural) react in a very entertaining way. getting bingmei to power bottom is chef’s kiss when bingge’s on the other end. teaching bingge about the beauty of surrendering to his own self, which he does not trust with anything but also understands more than he’d like or wants to acknowledge is also neat. they would get up to degeneracies that i can’t speak of. i’m shy and also inarticulate about them

oooh also lebingcest. exactly the same as before but it’s better. because lesbian yaoi

[another-random-paradise]

Hiii! I saw ur account is open to Twisted Wonderland requests and I do hope I can make one request!

Maybe a request for Mozus Trein with an S/O(ofc they’re the same age as him) that is shy and timid but was once an outgoing teenager when they were young and how the two bond now that they’re seeing each other again with both of them knowing that both of them obviously had a crush on one another since teens but separated due to familial circumstances(def didn’t inspire this by an oc of mine, hahahahahaaa-)

Thank you so much for the request!! and yeahh, many of my ideas are based of OC's- Since you didn't specify, I decided to write this as a short fic, since i've been wanting to write one for quite a while now, i hope that's okay!! (tbh I'm so used to writing headcanons, that if you really want to, you can also read this as headcanons) Hope you enjoy :) Also, i refuse to take Treins girl dad privilege's so i simply turned his marriage into an arranged one-

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

Trein and Childhood crush!Reader reconnecting after years apart

Characters: Mozus Trein

Format: Short Fic (972 words)

Warnings: None that i can think of

Trein was rummaging through some old stuff, with his wife's death a few years ago, he decided to declutter, when he stumbled upon an old box. An old box, filled with memories of his time as a teenager. Many of them included pictures of the two of you, how could they not, when he used to spend most of his time wishing he could spend every waking moment with you. Trein has always been an orderly person, perhaps that's why he loved you, you and your outgoing personality, never shying away from anything. If he was completely honest, he still does, and there is nothing he regrets more, than not marrying you.

He still remembers the day like it was yesterday, when his parents told him he was to be married, to a woman he didn't even know, once they were both eighteen, how it broke his heart. Of course, it had to be the same day he planned to finally confess to you. So, when you met him at your favorite spot, instead of a carefully planned speech about his feeling, one he knows he would have messed up anyways at the sight of your smile, he blurted out that he's engaged. He had never felt more pain, than as he watched your heart break, seeing the pain in your eyes. He only wishes that you were able to see how it hurt him too. And the two of you coming from a generation before phones existed made it hard to stay connected, so, in the end you lost sight of each other. Oh, how he wished he could have rebelled against his parents, he still wishes he did, but he always followed the rules his parents set, believing they only wanted the best for him, so how was he supposed to just stop? He is truly happy with his life, there is nothing he loves more than his daughters, and yet to this day, you have never left his heart. To this day, it wishes it were you with who he lived this life.

And it seems that his wishes were heard for once, as the doorbell rings. He is confused at first, the person at the door seems familiar to him, he just can't quite pin point it, at least not until the familiar stranger speaks-

"Long time no see, Mozus"

No matter how much you've changed over the years, the way you speak his name as you smile at him is something that remained the same, something that he could never forget. He invited you inside, the shock of seeing you so long painted clearly on his face. The two of you sit down at the coffee table, as he hands you your drink. He has many questions, and he can only assume you do too. It doesn't take long before you two are talking as openly as you did when you were younger, reminiscing about the older days, discussing what each of you did during your time apart; he tells much about his lovely daughters, talking about each of them as if they're a piece of art, before asking what you did during your time away. He noticed rather quickly that you spoke much quieter than when you were young, holding yourself back during stories instead of making them as big as can be, where he wouldn't have gotten a word in when you were young, he was now leading the conversation. But he couldn't say that he minded, it was only normal to change with age, and he's afraid his aged body wouldn't be able to handle the adventures attitude you had as a child; the change is welcomed with open arms, just as you welcomed everything that changed about him. The conversation lasts well into the night, it is already dark out when the two of you finally become tired. Being the gentleman that he is, and always was, he invites you to stay the night, perhaps even a few more if you have travelled from afar to meet him. As he goes to sleep, he feels a warmth he hasn't felt in years.

It was an early morning, when the sound of meows awoke you. It seems it didn't take long for Lucius to warm up to you either, as the tuxedo cat lets you pet him, albeit only for a few minutes, before elegantly walking of to eat breakfast. Deciding to follow suit, you get dressed and make your way to the kitchen. When you arrive, Trein is already making breakfast, wishing you a good morning, before returning his attention to the eggs. He is already dressed to a tee, you can only imagine how early he woke up. You decide to help him, carrying the finished food to the table, as you started to properly wake up. "Didn't you say you work at a college? don't you have to go to work soon?" you ask as you both sit down at the table. "Luckily, you visited me during the holidays, I have three more weeks before i need to return to work." He responded, a smile on his face. Very quickly the two of you made plans for these weeks, to reconnect.

And reconnect you did. Your plans very quickly turned into dates, as the two of you realize that neither of you ever got over your feelings. You finally do all, or rather all the things that you can do at your age, that you wanted to do as teenagers. Eventually, you even meet his daughters, who luckily seem to like you. They know their parents marriage was arranged, and seeing their father happy with you, makes them happy.

It may have taken many, many years of longing, but it seems that, in the end, fate still had a happy ending in mind for the two of you.

Very fun to write, very happy that i finally had the chance to try and write a proper fic!!

Feedback is welcomed, just be nice please :)

Hope you have a nice day/night!

[peachy-wolfhard]

Dating Leo II

a/n: I wanted to add more after I posted part one so here it is Bone Apple Teeth, I love leo sm so its LONG

Let me know if you would like to be on my tmnt taglist!

Warnings: swearing, grandchildren mention (splinter is gonna splinter), illness mention, insomnia, mentions of slapping leos bald head

Word count: 738 -woof

Insomnia gang

This turtle physically cannot sleep

When you don't spend the night he is CONSTANTLY texting you everything that comes to mind

“y/n…why is pizza a circle?” “idk lee can i come over :3” “yeth pls HURRY IM DYING HERE WITHOUT U”

Lying in his bed, cuddling, matching eyemasks ON, fan ON

Even with all of that, nothing works

The nights that the both of you are actually able to sleep he has a grasp on you

Holds you so close to him all the time, you guys are joined at the hip

Everyone besides Mikey and Splinter thinks you guys are gross

“You can't even say their names apart now it's ALWAYS Leo and y/n. You can't separate them they will DIE without each other”

“Calm down Mikey please you're scaring Shelldon”

Splinter is…well Splinter. He stays in your guys' relationship, with how dramatic you guys are he doesn't need his soaps

He loves to show you baby pictures of the boys esp the ones of Leo

((cough cough he definitely mentions grandchildren like the old man he is))

Bites all the time like anytime anywhere

Making breakfast peacefully listening to music- CHOMP

Getting ready for work- CHOMP

Dr. Delicate Touch has to intervene

Play fights with you in slow-motion

(slow motion voice) “yyy/nnn iiiimm goooinggg tooo kick your aaaasssss”

(also slow motion voice) “im gooonnnaaa kick yours firrrst”

HAND! HOLDING!

Initially, it started as a way to keep Leo from running off when exploring places, but then it turned into a regular thing

“My love, light of my life, future spouse eHEM!”

“What Leo”

“WHERE’S YOUR HAND I AM GOING TO DIE WITHOUT YOUR HAND IN MINE!! I ALREADY FEEL WEAK PLEASE I AM SUFFERING”

Absolute drama queen and don't get me started when he’s sick

Picture those old paintings of the sick children in bed, he’s that but dialed up to eleven

All he wants is cuddles and daytime television and don't you DARE come in between him and his Maury

Giving him medicine is surprisingly easy maybe it’s because he’s so out of it or maybe he’s just in love he’d let you do anything to him

But if you’re ever sick he does the exact same for you

If you fight medicine (just like me fr) he’s NOT afraid to use those ninja moves to get you to take your meds

Loves it when you read to him no matter what you are reading

Manga? Sign him up! Horror book? Let's get spooky! Sad book? I'll get the tissues! He just loves to hear your voice especially if you do different voices for the characters but not overly comedic voices, he’s here for the story!

Falls asleep listening to your voice with his head on your lap 99% of the time

Going to the Hidden City for date nights and getting up to absolute mischief

(having to then call Raph to come get you guys because you pissed someone off and just kicked their butt)

Speaking of the Hidden City! During their break in the Hidden City (when everyone gets arrested) you join Leo at the spa

After he gets kicked out he BEGS you to go to the creepy spa across the street with him

“Sorry sweetheart I too am in DIRE need of some relaxation plus it’s not often I’m in an exclusive club”

The moment he shows up with that gorgeous hair you’re suspicious

Texts you a selfie of his new hair with the creepy ass background

“Whatcha think? Even more handsome than normal? ;)” “go back to being bald i miss slapping ur bald head :(“

Anyway when he starts “sleepwalking” your immediate reaction is “Maybe it's the wig” but quickly forget all about it due to relaxation

“Um… yyyy/nnnn could you please help me out with one teeny tiny situation…? Please?”

Now you and Leo are on the case!

“Ooo lala finally some privacy ;)”

“Don't touch me until you’re bald AND we figure this out”

“Pwetty pwease? JUST ONE!”

“Fine, ONE kiss”

After the evil hair reveal and fighting with your boyfriend’s hair he's finally bald again

Leo explains the massage guy’s deal but it falls on deaf ears

“Hey, who’s that guy?” “He'sthe non-member we kicked out earlier!”

“I bet he and that human are the thieves. Call the cops”

After a quick stay in jail, you’re now peacefully back home

[amber-laughs]

one of the most interesting things about cat and jons relationship is that from her point of view jon is, first and foremost, a threat, but she is in some way able to separate that from the boy himself. like you said she feels guilt over her treatment of him even as she still argues for him being a threat. i just like that little bit of separation in her idea of him, to be a threat and still just a boy

another thing i like to roll around in my mind is the fact that shes not Wrong. many men have bastards and most bastards fade into the background their entire lives, but, historically, raising a bastard in your own castle (daemon I blackfyre) and even having two legitimate but politically separate sects of the family (the dance) have not ended well

i also like to ponder if some of her intense worry/arguing about it is related to her being from the south – northerners can be just as treacherous, of course, but they at least like to Think their fellow northmen are Better than the treacherous southerners. also in some ways i get the sense that the north doesnt put Quite as much stock into historical wars because they're is often able to sit them out. not to mention that the riverlands always get the worst thrashing in any war and i wouldnt be surprised if riverlords (and ladies) are raised to be a bit more politically minded, in the hopes of saving their house if/when things go to hell

sorry for the super long ask and also sorry if half of this makes no sense i just started rambling LOL. tl;dr i have too many catjon thoughts and i like ur posts about them ❤️

Exactly!! it's like how she honestly enjoys Mya until she finds out she's a bastard. Catelyn probably could be fond of Jon but that would mean having to get to know Jon and let him in which she can't let herself do which is ironic because if she got to know him she might see that he would never harm her children and have her fears eased. but of course its not that simple because as she explains to Robb its not just Jon, it's Jon's children and their children after them and the lords around them.

which makes you right! she's not wrong to be worried of him because of people like Daemon Blackfyre, but then she is wrong because Brandon Snow was willing to take on 3 dragons by himself for his half brother King Torrhen, but then she's right because Ramsay killed Domeric but then she's wrong because Stannis and Renly are warring for the throne and she should be just as worried about trueborn family and the list can go on and on and back and forth.

and yeah i completely agree that the Riverlands have more reason to be wary of war than other nobles and Catelyn specifically was raised as Hoster's heir for a little while and is clearly more politically observant than a lot of others around her. i would even say in early AGoT Cat comes across slightly paranoid with her fear of Robert's wrath over Ned declining the HotK position but seeing how things turned out maybe my sister was the only one who knew something was about to shake the table

neverrrrr apologize for rambling in my DMs i love hearing everyones thoughts and feeling like you guys care about mine lol come drop your thoughts and opinions as often as you want!

[the-good-bad-truth]

The Pregnancy announcement

I just want to start off by saying at the end of the day these people, this “lovely” couple are having a baby. But also, they choose to make their relationship our business, so I’m going to talk about it. If you disagree then whatever.  Scroll past this.

First I think it’s quite odd that she chose to announce it in that way with black goo and all that. Most pregnant women and celebrities would do something more cutesy, motherly vibes but it's Megan, so I guess you know. I know she had a miscarriage and all that, but I don’t get why she chose to use that caption. I’m not into spirituality like that but isn’t that like putting bad juju on your pregnancy by saying it’s the baby that committed “Su****e” last time. Idk. Her words not mine.

Also why are we having a baby with someone you don’t see marrying or you have no intentions of ever getting married, or being too scared to tell us the status of your relationship even tho for years you would give us all the private details down to how the table saw things and cutting holes in ur clothes to yk.  She does realize this means she will be stuck with this “demonic” creature for the rest of her life. If we also look back at their relationship, they have broken up at least 20 times in the almost 6 years they were together. Not exactly the most stable environment for a child but ok.  They also got engaged for like 8 months then the ring was never spotted again. They didn’t even confirm it until like a whole year later and she was very vague about it. Talking about how their relationship is not for public consumption but yet you get the public fed with headlines for years. And are we forgetting her whole temper tantrum where she used a SEX TRAFFICKING poster to get back at him and ALLOWED for one of his band members to be SLUT shamed for a WHOLE week before saying something and when she did it was all OUR fault. Ok. Even at the early stages of their relationship, like I’m talking only two months together, they were referring to each other as twin flames, tatts but yet praying to a tree, A TREE to take a storm away so they can spend a couple hours together before they would have to separate for like 2 weeks cuz they said if they didn’t, they would break up.

She has filled his head with lies and bullshited him throughout the whole relationship through public interviews, captions, and hate poems. Don't you remember Megan how you wrote poems insinuating that he forced you to wear a short skirt, had his hand around the back of your neck and is a narcissist not exactly father of your future children material. Right? I wouldn't even be surprised if this pregnancy was her idea, and she knew she could guilt trip him into having a baby. Is that not Coercion or? I don’t understand why she would do that unless her intention was to trap him because remember he is only like a year sober, he might be thinking of leaving his past, all of it.  She is an emotionally abusive person, but we all have to play DELULU otherwise we are not part of EST. Take a look a her and Brian’s relationship and how they would break, file for divorce and then she would end up pregnant. Maybe this is how she knows or thinks of keeping them.

If I’m being honest he’s never going to win a grammy. He’s just not and I fear that this baby is going to stop him from even trying to attempt to achieve that dream. That's why he got in a relationship, y'all do realize because she was the Transformers baddie that would give an ego boost and also help him promote his music. His thing, his purpose is to make music, to create art. It is where he flourishes the most and I would argue the happiest with the exception of Casie. And even then he would combine the two having her own stage with him and sharing songs with her. That is their thing. Casie is the muse; the reason he wants to achieve greatness is to prove to his daughter that she has an amazing and talented father. I have my suspicions that she wants to have a girl to maybe take some of that from Casie, but idk.

I think they will last maybe and I’m being generous for ¾ years, possibly. One because this baby that they will claim is made out of love will make or break them. He is either going to have to sacrifice going on tour and opportunities to stay and change diapers. Which I don't really see him trying to slow down at all, in fact I think it will just motivate him even more or cling on to whenever Megan will criticizes for his parenting styles. Do they even have similar parenting styles. The other option is he will distance himself from her to focus on his career like he wants to and choose to co-parent but that will piss her off. And I feel she will make up narratives of how he is a bad parent not directly but then again who knows. Did she not blast Brian for posting a picture of his own son. She can and will play the victim. Always. That the greatest role of her life to play woe is me, fame is a prison, the world is against me, misogyny and mean feminist, they don't understand my humor.

Also pay attention to how she names it. It might be something that is either rock, gothic, dark aesthetic. She wants an aesthetic baby so that these fan pages of hers can edit or whatever and say OMG Imagine saying your are MGK and THE Megan fox, WOW! The GeNeTiCs.

For Colson. Oh Colson. Good luck to you brother. You going need it. But if you are not too busy maybe you can release or at least try to work on the Rap album you promised us for over a year now.

 Xoxo the good bad truth

[kennedys-lvr]

TENNESSEE WHISKEY, STRAWBERRY WINE — CHAPTER 21 (AO3)

yall ready for some sweet sweet smut? 😈 ngl lowkey loved writing chris redfield smut... i can't wait until i eventually get to the fic where chris is gonna be a main man in it. but that won't be for a VERYY long time yet, so enjoy this taster.

NOTICE: because ao3 has been inundated with a slew of bots that accuse authors of using ai, which have been targeting my fics, i have decided to lock my fics so that only registered users can comment. guests, u can still kudos (im pretty sure) but until the bots stop or at least cool off, if u wanna comment on my fics ur either gonna need an account or u can use my tumblr askbox as a reaction space lol.

full chapter here! enjoy it chris girlies 😉

If someone had told ten-year-old me that in fifteen years I would be kissing Chris Redfield after having one of the wildest first dates of my life at The Hay Barn, she wouldn’t have believed it. If someone had told fourteen-year-old me this, she would have been curious about it, giving them her rapt attention whilst also doing her best not to squirm too much.

But, here I am—straddling the lap of the guy I had liked at ten years old, loved at fourteen years old, and at twenty-five years old.. I’m not too sure. All I can say is there’s a reason I had fallen hard for him back then, and perhaps this is it.

Chris’ lips are soft against my own, moving with certainty yet also with a sense of wanting to take his time. Always wanting to have me at ease, as my fingers thread into those cropped strands of brown whilst his own hand wraps around my hair, gently tugging on it enough to make me tilt my head back slightly so that his tongue can gently slip past my lips with grace and decorum like a polite guest.

This is everything I had once dreamed of, right down to the music—when we had got into the truck, staring at each other with the nervousness of teenagers on prom night, he had held my gaze as he had switched on his truck, adjusted his playlist to play Foreigner’s ‘I Wanna Know What Love Is’, and then pressed his lips onto mine without a second of hesitation or doubt.

He groans into my mouth as his tongue dances around mine—two circling waltzers, snakes sliding against one another in a dance that is easy to pick up once the mood settles. I suck in that sound, letting it run through me like a shot of vodka straight into my gut.

His other hand, the one that has been pressed into my hip and keeping me held to his lap, drags itself up my front. His fingernail rasps against the metal teeth of my zipper as he goes, my stomach clenching at the sound and my heart skipping a beat as his fingers settle on the pull tab.

Our mouths separate, a string of saliva breaking between us as we both breathe heavily. My eyes flutter back open, blurry as I gaze into his own glassy eyes and heavy-lidded stare, his kiss-swollen lips making me bite my bottom lip nervously.

“Can I?” His voice is a deep, almost needy rasp—and it reminds me of him. 

I blink, Chris’ features blending back into Leon’s as arousal starts to confuse me. My heart races as I picture Leon’s lips again, remembering the feeling of his tongue in my mouth, the drag of hands against my skin as he had held me up against that wall.

But then Chris is back in front of me. His eyes are patient, locked onto my own parted lips as his fingers hesitate on my zipper. Awaiting for my go-ahead, my approval, my anticipation for this.

I close my eyes, feeling that pinching feeling again. My body cries out for this, for more, but my heart aches because as much as I want Chris, I want somebody else more.

But that someone else isn't here. That someone else doesn't want me.

Chris wants me.

“Yes.” I breathe out before I can change my mind, squeezing my eyes shut tight as stars dot around my eyelids. I tense slightly at the rasp of the zipper, gasping at the searing drag of his hands as he pushes the material from my shoulders. 

Goosebumps track across my skin like something skitters across it, the warm huff of his breath on my bare skin making me suck in another breath. “Holy fuck..”

I’m so nervous—even though I've had guys stare at me before. I’ve allowed men to undress me slowly, or undressed for men and let them in myself. Chris’ reaction is one I’ve heard before, yet it still makes that flush on my cheeks spread across my skin like a fever.

“What?” A laugh bubbles in my throat as I ask a question that doesn't need answering.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Just—”

One of his hands comes up to my breasts. He cups one of them, squeezing the heavy mound through the plush black material. I let out a soft whimper, arching myself into his shaking, waiting hand as his thumb swipes at my nipple through the fabric, pressing down just hard enough for me to feel that jolt that chases right down into my core.

“Just trying to wrap my head around it, is all. That you.. are actually fucking here, sitting on my lap and letting me touch you.”

His head dips down to my neck, pressing soft yet insistent kisses against my fluttering pulse. My mouth drops open on a soft whine, my hand tightening in his hair as his lips move down to my collarbone. His tongue marks a hot trail right to the top of my breast.

Something presses up at me from between my legs, that denim bulge making my stomach drop. I press back into it naturally, and Chris lets out a low groan that has me freezing as I’m forced back into that memory I’m trying so hard to forget—the haze of the club, the rocking of those hips against my own, the deep sensation of a bulge that I had to hastily recreate to finish myself off because I had only received a fraction of it—

“More.” I whisper, a gentle whimper of begging leaving my throat as I tip my head back and rock my hips again, seeking that delicious friction. 

Chris sucks in a breath, his hands moving quickly to unlatch my bra. I shudder as his warm breath ghosts over my bare breasts, my nipples hardening to sore peaks begging for more attention from him—from Leon. My body is back inside that club, willing and ready for him, searching for more than he had given me.

“How much more?” Chris asks, his hands grasping and groping at my breasts before he drags a hand slowly down my stomach. Heat chases after it, making me feel sick as it pools in my gut then tingles into my clit, making me gasp desperately for air as my mouth opens wide.

“More,” I hiss, my body feeling like it’s on fire. My fingertips burn to feel something, my mouth is simultaneously dry and full of saliva, and I feel dizzy. 

If my brain was an office building right now, a fire alarm would be going off and panic would be ensuing as that flood warning is being broadcast.

His fingers stop at the edge of my panties, tracing the elasticated edge like he was waiting for something. He sucks in a breath and then lets out a groan as his hand begins pushing past that barrier between us—between my aching, pulsing folds and his delicate yet rough fingers.

“Holy shit..” His thumb presses into my clit, causing the little bundle of nerves to spasm with greed. I moan, my hips surging upwards to allow more space for his hand as it ducks fully underneath. When I settle, I feel his callouses dragging across my sensitive skin, shivering from the overload of lust coursing through my veins.

He moves his thumb in slow circles against me, and I groan at the churning sensation in my gut, the tsunami of pleasure that ripples through me at a fever pitch. He presses tighter when he reaches the top of that circular motion, then as he rounds back down he releases the pressure in a move that has my arousal mounting to new heights. 

I find myself thinking back to my fourteen-year-old self, who had sat in that bedroom in that spacious and empty New York apartment, clicking tentatively on a YouTube video of him that Claire had sent me. I remember the sudden flutter of nerves in my stomach as I had watched Chris in the saddle in that widescreen aspect ratio, rocking back and forth as the Albertan crowd cheered for him. Everything in me had felt numb, and the very first instance of what I would later come to know as pleasure had raced through me.

And nothing compares to whatever the fuck this is. This is real. And I’m chasing that craving like a ravenous lioness, drunk on pleasure and bliss and a lot of vodka.

The soft thump of his head hitting the headrest behind him has me fluttering my eyes open, my blurry vision soaking him in. He stares down between us, at the way his hand has pushed so brazenly past my panty line. His eyes then flash up to meet mine, blazing beneath the dim light of the truck’s cab. A slow grin stretches across his lips like he can't believe this is happening either.

Then suddenly Leon is back in my head, as I picture a dark, sweaty mop of hair and a hardened gaze, the flash of perfect white teeth and a stubbled scratchy jawline framing perfect lips that I miss the sensation of.

I groan, bucking into his hand as Chris sinks his fingers into me after another slow, deep rub against my clit with his thumb as if to mentally prepare me. Slowly at first, he gives me his pointer finger, then pulls out gently and adds his middle finger. They push up against my spongy inner muscles, the tightness of my pussy making him hiss as his thumb presses down deeper onto my frazzled—frail—clit. 

I squeak and moan, biting down hard on my tongue as I ride into him, seeking more.

[ranticore]

happy anniversary STBH!! i bought both books while on a week break and read them both in two days voraciously despite my phone failing to decipher the epub files (squinting at a 200x zoomed pdf is a painful way to read but it was so worth it). i am periodically rotating the characters round my mind like the hypothetical apple number 1. Cain especially has been placed in my little mental cabinet of curiosity that i drop by during quiet hours to think about. love that man. number one cain fan. chewing him like an interesting stick. i love every other character as well though theyre all so fascinating and v human

anyway all this ramble to say i love your works and im patiently waiting for the moth release. ur prose is so lovely and i love love love the way you interpret folklore and mythology and your art

question for the stbh gang: what actually are their daemons? i know felix has estibarith the swan but im so curious as to the rest...

omg noo i'm so sorry the epub didn't work! i know you already suffered through it but for anyone else with this issue, i have a recommendation for google books app (if using android) but even if that doesn't work, you can always contact me and we can make something more readable (like a pdf with big font or something) that fits

i'm so happy that cain resonates with people, that old man is a favourite of mine even if i did forget to change his name from the original placeholder (whoops). he's a lil fucked up now but his story is far from over

as for tha daemons..

Islin: i narrowed it down to two potentials?? That i kind of bounce between. I tend to lean more towards a polled bull than anything else - a same-sex daemon which would be the only one in the cast i think, which i tried to parallel in pern story with him being the only one who doesn't match the canon rules for rider sexuality & dragon colour. but regardless the daemon is called Tarannach and the overall symbolism is a massive powerful dominant animal who is nonetheless "de-fanged" in some way (polled cattle naturally lack horns!) and appears more peaceful as a result. Tarannach is wilful and domineering, disagrees with Islin frequently (before Islin has his spine-growing moments), and unapologetically takes up space. would also be a massive inconvenience in day to day life but that's kind of the point. Before settling as a bull, Tarannach went through phases of wanting to be smaller and smaller.

Bowman has a dog daemon. It just has to be that way, there's no getting around it. I joked around that she would be a poodle but actually I would lean more towards a collie instead, a herding type. Something that looks rough and ready but is actually surprisingly high maintenance. Her name is Nell/Nellie. Her personality is irreverent, never takes anything seriously. She turns into a feral animal during the full moon.

We know Estibariz is a swan but some more about her - she wanted to be a lioness, something big and fierce, and Félix insisted that she would probably end up a serpent or a fox, something with connotations of being a sneaky liar, and he felt that when she did settle, it would be an externalisation of some inner ugliness he never wanted anyone else to see. when she did settle she enjoyed a big I Told You So. When he was taken by Puck and spat out again, she returned as a form-shifting daemon again, and had gained the ability to separate from him and travel long distances. She never shapeshifted willingly though. The first person to touch Estibariz aside from Félix was Bowman. The second person was Helena.

Clarion is the only one whose daemon was actually, for real, a horse. His name was Drey and he was a dapple grey draft breed.

Senca is obviously a witch so also had a daemon who could travel far from her. He was a bird, I thought maybe a nightjar or collared dove. Never got that far in the au so didn't pick a name. We'll just call him Namiliyath

Léa's was a thorny devil

Jean's is a ferret and her name is Missy. It looks like it could potentially be an ermine, a symbol of nobility, but no. It's a common hunting animal, white with black eyes.

Erica's is a magpie

Pascal does not have a daemon. There's something there that looks very swanlike, but it speaks with his voice. In a human au, it's a golden eagle.

I don't think I made anything for other characters, again I never got that far writing it

[ax-y10]

hii!!

i saw ur wilbur x reader fic of reader being obsessed with his fluffy hair and i adored it!!! it was so cute !!

as a curly haired gal, it got me thinking of fem!reader who has curly hair helping will style his curls and teaching him how to do it

thank you!! :]

Fluffy Pt.2

In which- you love his curls, and you may have taught him a new skill

A/n: thx for your request, I love your writing. I'm genuinely trying so fucking hard to get stuff out so I can clear my drafts.

Headcanon info: I actually don't know but it's mainly fluff, pet names, swearing, and Wilbur being a little shit

Pronouns: None (You/Yours)

Masterlist:

Having someone with the same hair type as you was definitely a plus in the relationship.

Being able to relate to each and every hair problem, like it not curling right, or it becoming really frizzy etc.

So when you met Wilbur, your curly-haired boyfriend, The hair twirling he would do would be so calming, each and every finger lacing through your hair effortlessly.

The same goes for you, his short, fluffy and curly hair so soothing to you and your fingers, being able to separate each curl, making it poofier.

One day, you proposed the idea of teaching him how to curl his hair and style it, you having curly hair and knowing how to help, and he immediately agreed.

Now, if you have long hair, you would have to learn how to style short hair, your long hair techniques not working.

But of you had shorter hair, it would be so much easier to help him, the occasional challenge here and there but overall super easy to help.

The showers together washing each others hair and the late nights, him sat on the bathroom counter, you applying random things in his hair to experiment

"Darling? What the fuck is Aloe Vera? Don't tell me you're putting this in my hair... FUCK OFF NO!" He'd protest. "But it'll help the curls" "Okay"

He'd be so happy and bubbly the next day because his hair was bouncy

And Ash would text you and say "What the fuck happened to Wil?"

And your text back? "I made his hair bouncy"

This golden retriever motherfucker would genuinely be like "OMG ASH MY HAIR'S BOUNCY! LOOK!" and he'd make a point by pulling on a strand of hair and it bouncing back.

(I actually don't know what else to say so here's a small drabble)

You proposed the idea of styling his curls while sitting on the couch watching a movie. Well, in reality, you were currently in a staring contest with him, him starting it by staring at you hair, obsessing over your curls. You'd lost, of course, so he got to separate your curls and make your hair poofy, much to your dismay, but at least he was happy. "Wil, I should style your curls like mine. You seem to love my hair, so you can obsess over yours instead of fucking up my hair," You spoke, half jokingly, him probably being scared of all the weird stuff you were going to put in his hair, but he immediately agreed. "YES! Lets go, come one" And you were being dragged to the bathroom, and sat on the bench so you could reach his head. "Now sweet, you are going to have to stay still for me while I wet your hair," and this motherfucker shook his hair. "Hold the fuck up, I can't put this stuff in your hair until you stop dancing around like a maniac and stay in front of me, and I especially can't dry your hair," you scolded while your boyfriend bounced around the bathroom, already obsessing over his wet curls. Eventually, you got his hair all prepped for the morning, despite his protests against many products. You wrapped it in a small towel and went to bed, knowing he's going to wake up on the floor, towel across the room, and the blankets stolen from his moving around. Surprisingly, you woke up to him making you breakfast with his curls perfectly intact.

[myfandomrealitea]

saw ur post about going incognito into spaces and stuff and i wanted to add my own thoughts about my experience of basically being stuck in places where proshippers r hated (not against wut ur saying! i definitely agree that theres no benefits and honestly its not that fun)

the fandom that im currently in is.. very toxic. someone got harassed to the point of having to delete their account bc they "supported" a proshipper (it was literally just them saying that u shouldnt harass this person just bc theyre proship-). a lot of my friends were very supportive of this person and agreed that ppl shouldnt be harassed over shit like that and many of them seem to have similar viewpoints as me (anti harassment and all that) but prefer to stay away from that stuff

the fandom is basically ran by antis. theres a small corner that some ppl have made where they talk about proship stuff freely (love those ppl so much theyre genuinely so nice) but overall its. not the best place to be if ur proship. which is interesting to me bc theres actually a shocking amount of proshippers that just... dont say anything. on my side blog ive had multiple ppl interact that i thought were anti (or at least just. not proship in some way) but would literally go and like all my posts about incest ships of the characters.

and sometimes i think about it and how theres actually a bunch of proshippers but we're so heavily harassed and silenced that we just- dont say anything. but the fandom is small and we cant exactly separate ourselves from it if we really like the show. and i feel especially bad for some of the bigger blogs that ppl love and adore bc i know wut would happen if somehow ppl found out and made some big post or wutever.

i dont pretend to be antiship but i dont outright say im proship unless i really trust that person

im currently trying to make my own lil space with some friends so at least if anything goes wrong i at least have a few ppl but its a bit scary to think about honestly-

Although it can be full of snot-nosed superiority complexes, I do recommend using the AO3 Subreddit in order to find likeminded people for your fandom. The very vast majority of the AO3 Subreddit is proship or at least proship neutral. Antis are generally eviscerated on sight whenever they try to poke their nose into it.

If you have any other fandoms that you are active in or have friends within, there's also no harm in introducing them to your small fandom.

From what I understand the Marvel fandom did kind of the same thing you're describing with the Starker shippers, but they flourished and supported each other anyway.

I know its easy for me to simply say 'do it anyway' as someone who generally could not give a fuck about anyone's opinion of me, but honestly. Do it anyway. Form your little collective. Support each other. Learn how to write and draw and make GIFs so you feed your own portion of the fandom. You physically do not need those people, it just unfortunately takes a bit of effort and means potentially a bit less content until you start really generating your own.

Fandom spaces do not start out from nothing. Promote the shit out of your fandom. Draw people in. Comb through the proship tags and send asks to blogs like mine asking other proshippers to check out the source material.

People in small fandoms are easy to bully because you're so enclosed into this circle of the exact same people. They happen to be the majority in the room and they're weaponising it.

Force them into a bigger room.