#and it’s just Big words. and like. the thing is they used to stick in my brain. I used to be able to add them to the list and use it whenev

[littelovelunette]

Ok PLEASE hear me out but Sevika x reader where Sevika does something really fucked up but she doesn't realize how bad it was and thinks reader is just ignoring her because she's being dramatic and bcs they're both stubborn they don't talk for weeks until Sevika is sick of it and rants to Ran probably and she tells sev like "dude.. you fucked up bad bro" and since Sevika is just so desperate for r's attention she does the most dramatic apology every with flowers, all of r's fav stuff, probably even a hose Ran insisted on holding to make it look like she's in the rain (r notices and says hi to Ran) but um yk if you'd like ofc

Messy But She Tries

Contains angst

Toxic!Sevika x Fem!Reader

The night Sevika betrayed you was the night she proved she didn’t trust you.

It had started with an accusation—one she hadn’t even given you the dignity of hearing first.

Instead, you had walked into The Last Drop to find her sitting at a corner table, drink in hand, watching you like a predator waiting for you to step into the trap.

Her grey eyes had that cold, assessing gleam, the one she used when she was deciding whether or not to throw a punch.

“You got something you want to tell me?” she asked, low and even, but something in her tone made the hair on your arms rise.

“What?” you frowned, stepping closer.

She exhaled, shaking her head like she was disappointed.

“Word is, you’ve been talking to the wrong people. Piltover types. Enforcers.”

You froze. “What?”

Sevika leaned forward, flexing the fingers of her mechanical arm. “Funny, right? ‘Cause I could’ve sworn you weren’t that fucking stupid. But here we are.”

Your stomach turned. “You think I’d—”

“I think you’re gonna tell me the truth before I have to make you.”

And that was the moment. The moment you realized she had already made up her mind.

She wasn’t asking. She wasn’t looking for clarity. She had set a test, and in her mind, you had already failed.

It didn’t matter that you had never even looked at an Enforcer, let alone spoken to one. It didn’t matter that you had stayed at her side, through every close call, every late night, every fucking wound you’d patched up after her fights.

None of it mattered.

“Wow,” you laughed, but it wasn’t funny. It was hollow. Bitter. “So this is what you think of me?”

Sevika didn’t flinch. “I think I need to be careful about who I trust.”

You clenched your jaw. You could see it in her face—the way she was already shutting down, closing herself off like this was just another job.

Another problem she had to eliminate.

“Then don’t,” you said, your voice quiet. “If you think so little of me, don’t trust me. But just so you know, you can take all those allegations of me, stick them up where the sun don't shine. I am done.”

For a second, just a second, you thought she might say something else. That she might take it back. But instead, she picked up her drink and took another slow sip, watching you over the rim.

Cold. Detached. Like she didn’t care.

Like you didn’t matter.

You walked out.

And she let you.

The first few days were the worst.

You kept expecting her to show up. To stop by your place, lean in the doorway with that cocky smirk, and say something half-assed that wasn’t quite an apology but was close enough to mean she wanted things to be okay.

But she never came.

You used to complain about how she smelled like cigar smoke and metal, how her body heat was too much sometimes—but now?

Now the bed felt too big. Too empty.

And she?

She was fine.

“Shit,” Sevika muttered under her breath, slamming her glass onto the bar.

“You’re in a mood tonight,” Ran drawled from her spot beside her. She leaned back, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “Let me guess. This have anything to do with that poor girl you ran off a few weeks ago?”

Sevika exhaled sharply through her nose. “Not talking about it.”

“Uh-huh.” Ran took a slow sip of her drink. “Funny, ‘cause you sure as hell won’t shut up about not talking about it.”

Sevika shot her a glare, but Ran just grinned.

"Look, I'm sick of ignoring her," Sevika finally admitted, rolling her drink between her fingers. “But I’m not crawling back, either.”

Ran snorted. “Dumbass, that’s exactly what you need to do.”

Sevika scowled.

“You accused her of snitching,” Ran reminded her, as if she needed the fucking recap.

“Your GIRLFRIEND! The one who’s had your back since day one. And then, instead of fixing it, you let her walk away. So yeah, sweetheart, if you want her back, you ARE crawling. And you’re gonna do it big.”

Sevika groaned, rubbing her face. “I don’t do ‘big gestures.’”

Ran leaned in, smirking. “Then I guess you won't get her back.”

“…What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Ran grinned. “Oh, I’ve got a few ideas.”

When you heard the doorbell ring, you hadn't expected to see Sevika standing on the other side of the door. But you didn't open the door. Instead, you asked from the other side.

“What do you want?” You asked, arms crossing over your chest.

“Open the door,” Sevika said, voice calculated and calm.

“Can you just fuck off already?” you hissed venomously.

“Not unless you hear me out,” Sevika said, her voice now had an undertone of plea, you could hear that she was genuine so you reluctantly opened the door.

You froze when you saw Sevika holding a fat bouquet of your favourite flowers, they looked so fresh and almost heavenly.

“I'm sorry?” Sevika held up the bouquet alongside a huge box of your favourite chocolates, a few shopping bags were dangling from her wrist.

The biggest grin broke on your lips, you giggled, “This is all for me?”

“Mhm,” Sevika gave you the bouquet which you took a whiff of.

“Fresh,” you smiled up at her, “Thank you,” you said shyly before you frowned a little seeing the sprinkles of water as if it was raining.

You squinted over Sevika's shoulder seeing Ran standing in a distance, she was holding a hose of water towards the sky. Ran waved.

You laughed softly, waving back.

“Does that mean I'm forgiven?” Sevika grumbled.

“Of course,” you hugged her which she gladly returned.

[daryltwdixon]

Summary: You and Tommy had been trying for a baby for years. When a trip to the gyno answers questions you didn’t even know to ask, your husband enlists the help of his one and only brother.

|| smut MDNI 18+, pinv, no outbreak, talk of infertility, not cheating but def not exactly kosher, baby makin', breeding kink, dirty talk, size kink, boundaries being crossed || notes: forgive me father for I have sinned. this is filthy. but also thinking about a part 2. kinda sorta maybe inspired by some crazy reddit stories. you'd be surprised how many there are like this LOL

You knew this was a crazy idea. Batshit crazy, actually. You were aware. But maybe, just maybe, if you spun it the right way, if you framed it with enough love and logic, it wouldn’t seem so absurd.

See, the thing is, you and Tommy had been trying for a baby for years. Trying and, well, failing. It wasn’t until your last visit to the OB-GYN that a simple question—"Has Tommy ever been tested?"—sent everything spiraling. A few weeks of waiting. A single piece of paper. An answer you never expected. It wasn’t you. It was him.

Not that you’d ever blame him. You loved him too much. But no matter how many old wives’ tricks you tried—holding your legs up after he emptied himself into you, orgasms before and after, cinnamon and honey in your morning tea—nothing could change the fact that no amount of effort would make it stick.

Which brings you to now. Sat at the kitchen table in your quaint, cozy home with Joel across from you, a few glasses of wine deep. His expression was somewhere between exhausted and mildly entertained from whatever dumb story Tommy had been telling. You’d needed a glass yourself, just to steady your nerves.

And then Tommy popped the question.

Joel blinked once. Twice. His mouth opened, then shut again, then opened just enough for a noise—somewhere between a scoff and an incredulous laugh—to escape. He shifted in his chair, pushing back just slightly, like he needed to physically distance himself from what he was hearing.

“You…” he started, then stopped. Shook his head. “You want me to—?”

He didn’t even finish the sentence. Just motioned vaguely, like the words were so ridiculous they refused to come out of his mouth.

Tommy sighed, his grip firm around your hand while the other wrapped around your shoulders. “Yeah.”

Joel exhaled sharply, eyes darting between the two of you, like maybe, just maybe, this was a joke. That you'd all start laughing and point at him with a big 'got ya!'. His lips parted slightly, his forehead creased.

“You’re serious.”

“We wouldn’t ask anyone else,” Tommy said, voice steady.

Joel let out a breathy laugh, hollow and disbelieving. He dragged a hand down his face before pressing his palms against the table, fingers splaying out like he needed to brace himself.

“This ain’t a normal conversation to be havin’ over dinner, Tommy.”

“We know.”

“Do you?” Joel snapped, finally looking at his brother again, his voice sharper now. “Because I gotta tell ya, it really don’t seem like you do.”

“This ain’t easy for either of us,” Tommy said, his voice steady despite the tension winding between the three of you. “But we wouldn’t ask anyone else. We want to keep it in the family, so…the baby would still be related to me.”

Joel’s jaw tensed. His fingers gripped the stem of his wine glass like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. 

He looked over in your direction, but not directly at you, just at the table. At your hand in Tommy’s.

“And you’re…okay with this?” His voice was different now. Lower. Measured, like he was afraid of the answer.

You nodded. “We’ve talked about it. A lot. Ever since the results came back, we’ve been weighing options, and this—” You hesitated, swallowing, trying to gauge if he was even absorbing a single word. “It makes the most sense. More than adopting. More than a stranger. It keeps things in the family.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his ears tinged pink. He still wasn’t looking at you.

Not until you said his name. Soft. Careful.

His eyes flicked to yours, just for a second. Just long enough for you to see everything—the disbelief, the sheer what the fuck of it all—before he dropped his gaze again, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to decide now,” you said gently, exhaling softly. “Just… take some time to think about it.”

Joel didn’t respond.

A few minutes later, he left—no joke, no small talk of the next Sunday night football game could cut through the weight pressing down on the room. Just a stiff nod, a muttered see ya, and the quiet sound of the door closing behind him.

The following Sunday, it almost felt like the conversation had never happened.

The three of you sat at the sports bar, watching the Cowboys play on the massive screens, the air thick with the scent of beer and fried food. Tommy was his usual self, shouting at the refs, leaning into Joel’s shoulder every time the score tipped in their favor. Joel, on the other hand, was harder to read. He was relaxed enough, beer in hand, his usual dry remarks slipping out here and there, but there was something quieter beneath it all—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Not one mention of a baby. Not a single word about what you’d asked of him.

And maybe that was his answer.

When your husband got up, throwing out the excuse of takin’ a leak, the energy between you and Joel shifted. Not in a way you could name—just… thicker. More noticeable.

He sat a seat away, the empty barstool between you like a buffer neither of you had the nerve to close.

You tried to let it roll off your shoulders, but as you sat there, your mind wandered. What if Joel had said yes? What if it worked? Would the baby have his dark eyes, that heavy, thoughtful brow? Would they get that serious little crease between their eyes when they were thinking? His thick hair, his strong hands?

Tommy would still be their father. That was what mattered. That was the whole point. But the idea of seeing traces of Joel—subtle things, the shape of a nose, the curve of a smile…

The thought sent a strange, unfamiliar feeling curling in your chest.

It hurt, his lack of an answer, of course it did. But how could you blame him? You were asking for too much. Asking him to do something unnatural, something messy, something that could never be as clean and logical as you and Tommy had tried to convince yourselves it was.

You swallowed, setting your drink down as the silence stretched. “Listen, Joel—”

“I’ll do it.”

It was quiet. Like he wasn’t sure if he meant to say it out loud.

Your breath caught, as you stared at him, mouth agape. The side of his face gave nothing away as he kept his eyes on the TV as you waited for some kind of smirk, some sign that he was messing with you.

But he wasn’t.

Joel kept his eyes averted, like this was the kind of thing a person could say without looking someone in the eye. He took a long drink from his bottle, then set it down with a dull thud.

“You and Tommy deserve this,” he murmured, rolling the glass between his palms as he stared down at it. “To have a kid.”

Your heart constricted at the sincerity in his voice.

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “My life is better ‘cause of Sarah. Don’t think I ever told Tommy that outright, but… it is. I’d love to see him get to have that too.”

You blinked. “Are you…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “You serious?”

Joel turned to you finally, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since last week before you dropped the bomb on him, “Yeah.” he said finally, “Yeah, I’m serious.”

He was clearly uncomfortable, clearly still working through it—but the fact that he said it at all, that he meant it... that was more than you expected.

To be honest, you knew the baster idea wouldn’t work.

Not that you’d ever say it out loud. Not to your very loving, very kind, very hopeful husband. But deep down, you were pretty sure that by the time Joel had taken care of himself, transferred it into a container, driven it over, and you’d sat back on the bed with your legs up, whatever needed to be alive in there was long dead.

You didn’t bring it up. Couldn’t. Not when Tommy was trying so hard to make this work.

Across from you in the kitchen one morning, another negative pregnancy test sitting between you, your husband sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw before reaching for his mug, “If I ask you somethin’,” he murmured, voice low, hesitant, “will you tell me the truth?”

Your eyes flicked up to his. “Of course, baby.”

His hand rested on the granite, fingers close enough that you reached out, tracing them lightly with your own. His eyes drifted down to your delicate touch against him.

Then, he exhaled slowly and cleared his throat.

“Do you think we should try…” His fingers twitched under yours. “Ya know. The old-fashioned way?”

For a second, the words didn’t land.

Not until you saw the way his eyes found yours and he was looking at you—serious, thoughtful, like he’d been turning it over in his head for longer than he wanted to admit.

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Tommy sighed, pressing his lips together before setting his coffee down. “I just think… for it to stick properly, we might need to try somethin’ more… natural.”

Your mind reeled. Heat crept up your neck, flushing your skin before you could stop it.

The idea of being with another man…

Tommy saw it. The way your lips parted, the way your breath caught just slightly.

He stepped closer, smoothing his hands over your cheeks, tilting your face up toward his.

“Only if you were comfortable with it,” he assured, voice gentle, steady. “I’d never ask you to do somethin’ you didn’t wanna do.”

You swallowed hard, still trying to process. “I—I don’t know, Tommy.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “And Joel would flip out if we asked that of him.”

Tommy hummed, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “Yeah, he might.”

Might was an understatement.

Joel was over the following day to help with your bathroom remodel, a project the brothers had taken on during the slow season. You were busy finishing whatever odds and ends you needed to get done upstairs when you heard his voice traveling through the house.

Not just his voice—but the volume of it.

“Are you outta your goddamn mind?!”

The sound rattled through the house, shaking the walls as you hovered at the top of the stairs, heart pounding.

“Joel—” Tommy’s voice, calm but firm.

“No. No, you don’t get to ‘Joel’ me right now, Tommy, because what you just said—what you just— Christ.” There was the distinct sound of something slamming—a fist on the table? A chair shoved back? You weren’t sure, but it made you wince.

“Look, man, I knew you’d be pissed,” Tommy started, only to be cut off immediately.

“Oh, did you?” Joel’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You knew I’d be pissed, but you went ahead and asked anyway? Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I’m already crossin’ so many lines with what we’re doin’, and now you’re askin’ me to…to—!?”

You could picture it perfectly—Joel pacing the length of the room, one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair, winding up, because when Joel was really mad, he didn’t just stand there.

“You’re makin’ it a bigger deal than it is,” Tommy tried, tone even.

Joel let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I misunderstand the part where you just asked me to fuck your wife?”

Heat crawled up your neck.

“We ain’t askin’ that, Jesus, Joel, don’t talk about her like—”

“You are absolutely askin’ that.”

“It’s not like that.”

“The hell it ain’t!”

Silence. Heavy, tense.

You swallowed hard, gripping the banister, unsure whether to go down there or stay put.

Then—Joel’s voice, lower now, but still laced with disbelief.

“Tell me you didn’t really think I’d say yes to this.”

And Tommy, just as steady as ever:

“I think you wanna say no.” A pause, and you could almost feel the shift in the air between them. “But deep down? I think you’re already considerin’ it.”

Joel let out a slow, sharp exhale, but he didn’t argue.

And a week later, he was back at your doorstep.

There were three rules.

1. No kissing.

That was the hard line, the non-negotiable. Kissing was too intimate— too personal, too close to something else entirely. You could rationalize everything else, strip it down to the mechanics of what needed to happen, but kissing blurred the lines. That made it mean something. And this couldn’t mean anything.

2. No talking about it outside the bedroom. 

No slipping up over dinner, no awkward mentions in passing, no weird jokes over a few beers. It had to stay contained. A thing that only existed in a room with the door closed and the world shut out. Because once it bled into the rest of your life—once it became something you acknowledged beyond those four walls—it would become real.

3. No names

No whispered Joel in the dark, he couldn’t say yours while he was inside you. Names had weight. Names had meaning. And the second you said them, it stopped being about a baby.

So when your ovulation window came within the next few days, you found yourself in your bedroom with the two brothers. When Tommy excused himself from the room—pressing a kiss to your forehead before heading out to meet his buddies at the bar like this wasn’t the weirdest fucking thing in the world— you turned to Joel

Over the years, you’d come to know him, grown comfortable with him. That familiarity should’ve helped, should’ve made this easier. But sitting here now, alone in the bedroom with him, awkward was an understatement.

Joel sighed, rubbing his forefinger and thumb along his brows as he stood at the edge of the bed. “Guess we better get to it, then.”

You nodded numbly, tucking your legs beneath you on the bedspread, looking up at him.

He was already tense, broad shoulders squared, avoiding your gaze like you weren’t even in the damn room. He exhaled sharply, then—without ceremony—unbuckled his belt. The clink of metal sent a strange ripple through your stomach, but you forced yourself to focus, watching as he shucked his jeans down to his thighs, taking his boxers with them.

Your breath caught.

Even soft as he was at the moment, he was bigger than Tommy. Thicker.

Joel cleared his throat, shifting his stance, one hand bracing against the bedpost while the other wrapped around himself. He wasn’t looking at you. Not even close. His gaze stayed fixed somewhere off to the side, jaw locked, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he started moving his hand.

It wasn’t working.

Minutes passed, the air between you thick and suffocating, but he remained… soft. The tension in his face deepened, brows knitting, his motions growing stilted.

You chewed your lip, watching as his frustration mounted.

“You don’t gotta sit there starin’ at me,” he muttered, voice gruff, like this was somehow your fault.

You exhaled through your nose. “I’m just… tryin’ to think how I can help.”

His hand stilled. “You’re fine. Just–just give me a minute,”

Then suddenly as the idea struck, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it up.

Joel’s head snapped toward you, eyes going wide. “What’re you doin’?” His voice was sharp, edged in something that sounded suspiciously close to panic.

You hesitated. “Just… thought maybe it’d help.”

“Well, don’t.” His ears were red. “Keep your damn clothes on.”

You huffed. “Jesus, it’s just a shirt.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but let it go, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe any of this was happening.

Another beat of silence, only the sound of skin on skin filling the air as he fisted himself.

“Can I help?”

His gaze flicked to yours, skeptical. “Help how?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. What do you like?”

Joel tensed. “…The hell kinda question is that?”

“A valid one,” you shot back, tilting your head. “C’mon, there’s gotta be somethin’. What do you like?”

He hesitated, shifting where he stood, uncomfortable. You rattled off a few suggestions, some kinks you’d heard of. He barely reacted.

Then finally, one seemed to slap him upside the head, “Do you like dirty talk?”

His entire body stilled.

His eyes finally, finally found yours.

Bingo.

A slow pulse of heat curled low in your stomach.

You leaned forward slightly, voice softer now. “What kind of things do you say?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at you, the tension in his jaw loosening, his pupils starting to widen.

“Come on, Joel,” you said, then immediately pressed your lips together, realizing you’d already broken one of your own rules—not even five minutes in.

“Sorry—” You exhaled, shaking your head. “But c’mon, do you want me to talk to you? Or what do you usually say to women?”

Joel’s eyes were suddenly burning into you, his chest rising and falling just a little heavier now. He exhaled sharply, remembering himself as his gaze flickered around the room like he wasn’t sure where to land it, like maybe if he didn’t look at you, this would stay clinical—mechanical.

“I uh…” He wet his lips, voice rough. “Usually will tell ‘em they’re bein’ real good for me,” he said, exhaling through his teeth. “Bein’ a good girl.”

The temperature of the room shifted, the air growing heavy, pressing down on you. A slow, pooling ache pulsed low in your belly. His nostrils flared as his eyes found yours again, like maybe he could see exactly what that did to you.

You swallowed, “What else?”

Joel’s hips twitched. He hesitated, his grip flexing around himself, fingers curling just slightly. You caught the bob of his throat, the faint shift of his stance. He was getting there.

His gaze dropped to your mouth. “Tell ‘em how pretty they look on their knees.” His voice had taken on a new weight—thicker, heavier, his drawl rolling low in his throat. “How sweet they sound when they moan for me. How bad I wanna feel ‘em wrapped around me, drippin’ and ready, beggin’ for more.”

The room contracted, the air impossibly tight, each breath harder to pull in. Your skin felt hot, your lips parting as you fought to keep your breathing steady. And you knew—knew—your pupils were wide, knew your face was flushed.

Because his was too.

His eyes had darkened, locked on yours, heat simmering beneath the surface. You inhaled deeply, the air between you charged, electric. You reached out, fingers grazing along his forearm. He tensed, muscles flexing beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“You wanna take this off?” you murmured, voice quiet but sure, fingers tracing up toward the sleeve of his shirt.

Joel let out a slow breath, something flickering behind his eyes—hesitation, uncertainty—but then, after a beat, he reached down and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor.

Your gaze raked over him.

Christ. He was the epitome of masculinity—broad and solid, built like something carved from rough earth, from long years of labor and hardship. His chest was strong, lined with thick, dark hair that tapered down his stomach in a steady trail, leading lower—disappearing into the patch just above where he was hardening in his hand. 

Your mouth was dry, your pulse a slow, deliberate thrum in your veins.

You lifted your hands to the hem of your own shirt, pausing just slightly. He hadn’t looked away.

“Okay?” you asked softly.

His jaw flexed, gaze dark, unreadable—but after a second, he nodded.

You pulled it over your head, the fabric slipping away, baring more skin than you’d ever thought he’d see.

Joel exhaled sharply, his eyes dragging down your body, heavy and slow, his pupils swallowing the color of his eyes. Your nipples pebbled in the open air, a shiver running through you as his gaze settled there, his breath hitching just slightly.

You reached for him again, fingers trailing along the hard lines of his chest, dipping over the planes of his stomach. He was warm beneath your touch and he smelled like pine and musk and something richer, something leathered and sun-baked—something distinctly Joel.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “O—okay,” he exhaled, voice rough. “I think I’m… good,” he added shakily, and you could see his body finally catching up to the filth rolling off his tongue, the thick weight of him fully hard now. You swallowed dryly at the sheer size of him in his palm.

Standing slowly, your hands dropped from his body, but your eyes never left his as you slid your pants down your hips and let them pool at your feet.

Bare. You were both bare.

Your gaze dragged over him, from the broad stretch of his shoulders down to his stomach, the solid cut of his thighs, his cock standing thick and heavy between you. It was the most you’d ever seen of him. The most he’d ever seen of you.

And he was beautiful.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw tight as his gaze traveled over every inch of you. Then, wordlessly, you laid back down on the bedspread, opening your legs for him.

He cursed under his breath.

You caught the way his throat bobbed, the way his fingers twitched at his sides before he climbed onto the bed after you, settling between your legs. His eyes darted down, locked onto the wetness pooling between your thighs, and his nostrils flared.

“All this from just a few sweet words, huh?” His voice was lower now, edged with something amused but dark, something he hadn’t meant to let slip through.

He shifted forward, but you stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, suddenly shy. “It’s said that women are more likely to get pregnant if, um… if they orgasm during or… or before, I think.”

Joel stilled for half a second before a slow smirk pulled at his lips. “You doubt me so much?”

The teasing edge in his voice—the cockiness—made some of the tension in your chest loosen. You let out a breathless laugh, your body unwinding slightly from the tension earlier. “I just… I’ve never…”

Something shifted in his face. The smirk faltered just a little. “You’re sayin’ my baby brother doesn’t take care of his own wife?”

“No!” you said quickly, your hand flexing against his chest defensively. “He does, it’s just… I can’t finish just from penetration. Most women can’t, actually.”

“I know, darlin’.”

You gasped as the thick head of his cock suddenly swiped through your slick arousal, and he hissed, pressing his other hand into the pillow beside your head as he leaned over you.

“Fuck—”

His voice was rough, gravelly, wrecked, and something about it made your thighs squeeze around his waist, made the heat coil even tighter in your belly.

Joel lingered there, his cock sliding through your slick, slow and deliberate, teasing against your swollen clit with every pass. The thick head caught at your entrance, nudging just slightly, and a gasp broke from your lips before you could swallow it down.

His jaw ticked, fingers flexing in the pillow beside your head, his body wound tight like a spring.

“This okay?” he asked, voice rough, strained.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yes.”

He pressed forward, just an inch, just enough for you to feel the blunt stretch of him, and your breath hitched.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “So damn wet.”

Heat flooded your face, but you couldn’t think—couldn’t focus on anything other than how thick he was, how different he was from Tommy. You felt like you were being split in two, but you wanted more. Every inch only made that need, that hunger, grow.

His hand lifted from his cock, skimming over your hip before settling on your thigh, holding you open.

“Gotta take it slow,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You swallowed hard, fingers curling into the sheets beside you. “I can take it.”

His head dropped for a second, a quiet curse slipping past his lips. “Don’t say shit like that, sweetheart.”

Something about that word, the way it left his mouth—low and full of something dangerous—made your stomach clench.

The stretch was slow, unbearable in the best way as he pushed forward even more, your body giving inch by inch, and you let out a sharp exhale as he filled you.

Joel groaned, deep and low, his fingers tightening on your thigh as he finally buried himself to the hilt.

Jesus Christ.

The weight of him inside you, the way he fit—it was overwhelming, taking up every inch of space, leaving you panting beneath him.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his hips flush with yours now, his jaw tight. “You’re—shit, you’re squeezin’ me so damn tight.”

Your thighs trembled around his waist, your body working to adjust to the fullness, to the sheer size of him, and then—oh god—then he moved.

A slow pull out, a deep thrust back in.

You moaned, head falling back against the pillows, fingers flexing against the sheets.

Joel’s breath was ragged, his grip tightening. “That’s it.”

As he began to set a steady pace, a deep thrust in, a gentle pull out, the tingling sensation you knew all too well was rising fast—too fast. It climbed up your spine, coiling tight, and your breath hitched in your throat. The sensation was familiar, so familiar, but not like this. Not from this.

Joel moved with deep, deliberate thrusts, each one stretching you full, dragging against every oversensitive nerve inside you with agonizing precision. His cock was thick, heavy, unrelenting—pressing deep, pressing right, pleasure licking up your spine like fire.

His hand moved between you, thumb finding your clit with ease, the calloused pad brushing over the swollen bundle of nerves, a touch just firm enough to make you jolt. Your whole body reacted, thighs trembling, an involuntary gasp ripping from your lips.

His breath hitched as he felt it too, and he let out a dark, pleased hum.

“Feel that?” he murmured, his voice a slow, deliberate drag against your skin. His thumb moved again, slick and sure, working tight little circles against you. “Now, what was it you said again?”

Your chest heaved, your fingers gripping at the sheets, at him, anything to keep yourself tethered, because the pleasure was coming in hot, hard waves now—building, climbing, making your skin flush and prickle with heat.

“I—I never—” You gasped, voice breaking, lips parting as your back arched into the feeling, as you felt your muscles tighten and clench under him.

Joel leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “C’mon, sweet girl. Use your words.”

Your hips met every thrust, dragging a moan from deep in your chest.

“I’ve never—ah!—never come like this before,” you choked out, breathless and desperate.

Joel swore under his breath.

“You’re tellin’ me,” he rasped, voice dripping in absolute filth and sin, “my pissy little brother never made you come on his cock before?”

The shame of it—the filthy, shameless truth of it—slammed into you just as hard as the pleasure. Your breath came in short, stilted gasps, your thighs twitching, heat curling low and tight, twisting like a wire pulled too taut. You gripped his biceps hard where they caged you in, your nails digging into his skin.

“I–”

“Never felt the way you’re squeezin’ the life outta me right now, baby?” His voice dipped lower, rougher, as his thumb pressed, rubbing slow and tight. “Never had you like this? Drippin’ and desperate? Makin’ the prettiest fuckin’ sounds I’ve ever heard?”

Heat flared in your belly, your legs shaking around him, pleasure tearing through you.

Joel felt it, the way you clenched down around him, and he grinned, breath hot against your mouth as he groaned through his teeth.

“Fuck—that’s it. Let me feel you.”

And you did.

Your body suddenly snapped. The orgasm slammed into you, white-hot and merciless, every nerve in your body firing at once, blinding you with pleasure so intense it was nearly unbearable. Your breath punched from your lungs as your back arched clean off the bed, thighs trembling, a cry tearing from your lips as waves of heat crashed through you.

Joel swore under his breath, hips stuttering as you clenched tight around him, and his mouth hovered just above yours, his breath mixing with yours, the air between you thick and electric.

He felt the way your body fluttered around him, still pulsing with the comedown of your orgasm, dragging him deeper, tighter—trapping him. His breath was heavy, coming in sharp, ragged exhales as he dropped his head, his forehead resting against yours.

His hips kept moving quick and uneven, dragging his cock in and out of your still-clenching walls. He was throbbing, thick and hot inside you, every roll of his hips sending sharp little sparks of overstimulation through your system.

That was when, after coming back to earth, you saw the way his lips parted slightly, his breath hitching whenever you squeezed around him just right. The tension in his face, the way his muscles coiled and flexed with every deliberate movement.

He was close.

You wondered…

Your breath was still shaky, voice unsteady, but you let it slip out, slow and sultry, testing the waters, “You feel so good,” you whispered.

Joel froze for a split second, a sharp breath punching from his lungs as he reeled his head back to look down at you.

"Does it feel good for you?” you whispered, your fingers trailing up the nape of his neck. “Filling me up? Making me feel so full? So good?”

Joel let out a ragged, wrecked sound, his fingers digging into your skin, gripping you like a lifeline.

And in that moment—fuck the rules.

Because this was anything but clinical now.

You pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, letting your breath fan against his ear as you whispered, gentle, teasing.

“You gonna give me a baby, Joel?”

Joel let out a wrecked groan, his grip on your hips tightening, his pace faltering. His thrusts turned rougher, sharper, his body moving on pure instinct now—chasing it.

And then he snapped.

A strangled moan ripped from his throat as he slammed deep, burying himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing inside you as heat flooded you. His whole body shook, a ragged, guttural sound tearing from his chest as he came, thick and hot, spilling deep, his fingers flexing against your hips like he was trying to ground himself.

You gasped at the feeling, at the warmth spreading inside you, at the way his body shook above you.

Joel was panting, forehead pressed to yours, sweat damp at his hairline, his breath fanning against your lips, warm and unsteady.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Joel was still inside you, still filling you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, grounding you. His breath was heavy, warm against your cheek as he turned his head, his chest rising and falling against yours in slow, uneven waves.

“I should, uh…” His voice was hoarse, thick with something he wasn’t naming. He swallowed, clearing his throat as he sat up. “I should probably—”

You shifted slightly beneath him, still sensitive, still pulsing with the warmth of him inside you. Your thighs trembled, the ache delicious, spreading through you like slow heat.

“You can go,” you murmured, voice soft, a little sleepy. “I’m gonna stay here for a while.”

He hesitated as he looked down at you, your bodies still connected. 

You blinked up at him, lips curving in a lazy, satisfied smile.

“It’s said that if a woman stays lying down after, it increases the chances of conception.” You hummed, stretching slightly, body still warm and loose. “Just want to give it time to stick.”

You felt him twitch inside you, like his body had just caught up to the meaning of your words, and then he was pulling out, hissing under his breath as he eased away from you.

His heat vanished instantly, and a shiver ran through you at the sudden emptiness, the cool air replacing where he’d been pressed so solidly against you. You exhaled, tugging the covers up over yourself, shifting deeper into the mattress, letting your body sink into the afterglow.

Joel, on the other hand, was already moving, and fast.

He turned away from the bed, running a hand through his hair, reaching for his jeans like he needed them back on, needed the barrier, needed to be done with this.

“Hey,” you called softly as he stepped toward the door, one leg shoved into his pants.

He paused, turning slightly, just enough to look at you over his shoulder.

You blinked up at him sleepily, the blankets pulled up to your bare shoulders, your voice softer now. “You okay?”

Joel hesitated. Just for a second.

His hands hovered at his belt, his fingers twitching. His lips pressed together, like he was weighing his answer, like he didn’t trust whatever was sitting heavy on his tongue.

Then, he gave you a short, stiff nod. “Yeah. ‘M good.”

You hummed, unconvinced, watching the way his chest still rose and fell in uneven breaths, the lingering flush at his throat, the tension in his hands as he buckled his belt like he was fighting something.

“Okay,” you murmured, turning your head into the pillow, eyes half-lidded, “And, Joel?”

His gaze flickered back to you, hovering, like he was bracing himself.

You swallowed, shifting slightly under the blankets, warmth settling deep in your bones. “Thank you.”

Joel’s fingers twitched where they grabbed for his shirt, his throat working around something thick, something stuck. His eyes dragged over you one last time, heavy, unreadable, before he gave a single, curt nod.

“I’ll see you,” he muttered, voice rough, almost hesitant.

Then he turned, and with the sound of the door clicking shut behind him, he was gone.

[illbegottenfaith]

stuck with u

you get stuck in the Room of Requirement with a not-so-distant acquaintance and realise there's no where else you'd rather be (theo nott x reader)

all this loving you, hating you, wanting you...

a/n - ahh my first entry for hogmarch! I can't believe I'm finally writing a trope I used to devourrr as a (younger) teen and although 'stuck' tropes aren't my absolute favourites I like that I went for a little unconventional take on it :D I decided to blend the week 1 & 2 themes since im wayyy past the week 1 timeframe oops (midterms...) anyways this was so so fun to write cuz even 5 years on I love love loveee stuck with u ARGHH its so good so enjoy :)))

tropes/warnings - mutual pining, friends-ish to lovers, fluff, happy ending <3

word count - 2.5k

taglist - @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf

You’d never been one to stick around - not when it came to people.

You had friends. Plenty of them, in fact. You’re easy to get along with, know how to fill the silences with laughter. But close friendships - the kind where you let them actually know you, the kind where you let them in, let them see something real - those have been few and far between.

It wasn’t that you were afraid of people. You just didn’t trust easily.

Most friendships, to you, felt temporary. People drift in and out of each other’s lives all the time, and you’d never seen much use in pretending otherwise. You kept things surface-level, just enough to be friendly. But the moment someone gets too close, asking questions you don’t want to answer, you pull away. Create distance before they can even get the chance to disappoint you.

But then there’s Theo. And, for some reason, he’s the only person you’ve never managed to push away.

Not that you haven’t tried.

In your first year, when you tripped down the last few steps of the dungeon staircase and sent your books flying, it was Theo who had crouched beside you, silently gathering them up, not a single snide remark on his lips as 11-year-old boys were prone to hand out. No, all you got was a faint smirk as he handed them back to you without a word, all while you gaped gormlessly at him.

In your third year, when you missed a week of classes after a particularly vicious stomach bug, it was Theo who had slid his notes across the table in Potions, muttering “don’t ask me to explain any of it” out the corner of his mouth. All the same, with every mildly incoherent word in his slanted, cursive handwriting, he was surprisingly cooperative in deciphering it for you.

In your fourth year, when you got hexed in the middle of the corridor and spent the entire afternoon with bright green hair, it was Theo who had walked you to the Prefects’ Bathroom, rolling his eyes as he mumbled something about how he “might as well supervise” before you inevitably made it worse.

And this year - your last year - he’s always there.

You don’t understand it. You don’t have the kind of friendship where you confide in each other, where you talk about things that matter. But somehow, Theo always seems to be around when it matters - watching with those observant, calculating eyes of his, offering help without making a big deal out of it, like he knows you wouldn’t take it if he did.

It’s a running joke now - one you always throw at him with a grin. You just can’t get rid of me, huh?

And every time, he huffs a quiet laugh. Apparently not.

The next time you get stuck with him is over spring break. Naturally, all your friends wanted to do was laze around the Common Room, half-dozing. Eventually, someone proposed the brilliant idea of fetching a game for a little intellectual stimulation, like Uno. Unfortunately, no one wanted to actually get up to get it other than you and Theo.

“This isn’t going to work,” you said. You and Theo were standing in an empty corridor on one of the higher floors, one where the Room of Requirement was rumoured to appear. He shushed you impatiently, his eyes still screwed shut as he thought long and hard about a deck of uno cards.

You sighed, waiting for him to get this over with. This close, you could see every individual eyelash of his, all of which were unfairly long. Really, it was a waste of a beautiful feature on a perfectly mediocre boy.

He finally opened his eyes, which almost immediately found yours. You hadn’t realised you were standing so close to each other. For a brief moment, you were struck by how pretty his eyes were - marbled, watercolour eyes that lent a softness to his otherwise strong, harsh features. Momentarily speechless, you looked away, following his line of sight over your shoulder.

Well, I’ll be damned, you thought. A door. An actual door.

Sure enough, it opened to a narrow, cavernous room filled to the brim with every board game you could dream up. The two of you wandered in, weaving in and out of stacks upon stacks of games. Once you picked out a suitable deck of Uno cards, you both meandered back to the entrance. Or what was the entrance.

You turned the corner of a stack, back to where the entrance was, only to see Theo standing with his back to you, his face hidden, fingertips ghosting a blank stretch of stone.

“Theo,” you started, stating the complete obvious, “why is there wall where the door is supposed to be?”

"I don't believe it," you heard him mumble disbelievingly under his breath. "It was here just a moment ago."

"You lost the door?" you cried out. He was starting to look a little green around the gills, his eyes darting to the other walls. He gave a weak, unconvincing laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous."

“Do something, Theodore!”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder!”

Theo winced. “Quit yelling, would you?”

You sat down, slumped against the opposite wall, dragging a hand across your face. “Great. This is just perfect. We’re going to grow old and die and shrivel up in here and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault? If you had just waited by the door like I asked - ”

"You didn't tell me the door was going to disappear!"

"Yeah - well - it's never happened before." Theo dragged his hand out of his hair, now wildly sticking up in all directions, fingers trailing up the wall as if trying to feel for a hidden door. You scoffed.

"I told you we should have gone down to Hogsmeade to buy a deck, but no, you didn’t want to walk all that way.”

“Unlike you, I actually know how to work the Room.”

Theo turned just in time to dodge the Monopoly figurine you had hurled at his head.

"Then work it. Get us out of here."

--------

"Stop chucking things at me."

Grudgingly, you paused your assault. Half an hour ago, you had been ready to climb the walls and tear them down to get out of this place. Now, the craze had passed, so you settled for pelting Theo with all the tiny games figurines you could get your hands on while he paced wearily, trying to think of a solution.

“I’ll stop when we have an exit.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Theo turned back to the blank stone wall, muttering something under his breath as he pressed his palm against it. When nothing happened, he shoved both hands through his already-ruffled hair and swore under his breath.

Your eyes tracked his movements critically. “You have no idea how to get us out of here, do you?”

“Of course I do,” Theo shot back, a little too quickly.

"Right."

Five minutes later, he finally admitted defeat. He joined you where you were slumped in a corner, unsuccessfully trying to juggle the chess pieces. To your credit, you didn't say it, but your whole body language hummed with an undercurrent of I told you so.

"The Room's going to let us out when it wants to let us out," he said finally. "All we can do is wait till it feels like it."

He sounded so defeated you were starting to feel a little bad for being so hard on him. You sighed.

"I just can't believe we're stuck in here when everybody else is...you know, out there."

“Yes,” he said drily, “because there’s so many better places to we need to be. Merlin forbid we fall behind on our couch-rotting hours.”

You grinned as he picked up the deck of cards on your lap, starting to shuffle them.

"Might as well make the most of it while we're stuck here."

You raised your eyebrows as he started expertly manipulating the deck.

"Shuffling's the newest panty-dropper, eh?"

The corner of his mouth ticked upwards as his eyes remained fixed on the deck. "You'd be surprised."

You can practically see him puffing out his chest on the showier tricks he does with laser-focused concentration. It makes you want to laugh, his almost childish need to be impressive. To impress others. To impress you.

But, for reasons that eluded you, you were impressed. Not once had Theo ever let you down. It was as though he was incapable of it. You didn't exactly rely on him, but when he was around, his deep, self-assured voice was guaranteed to soothe your frazzled nerves. Even now, when all you wanted to do was bitch and moan about how you were never going to see the light of day again, he somehow managed to distract you, amuse you. Theo always knew how to turn a bad situation around and, well, to someone as catastrophic as you, what could sound more appealing?

Game after game, time began to blur. The cards whispered as they slid over each other in his hands, a hypnotic rhythm filling the silence between you. You let your head tilt back against the wall, exhaling slowly, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little.

Your head lolled against your shoulder as you lazily watched Theo shuffle the cards for the umpteenth time.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you noted, tilting your head toward him.

He didn't look up from the cards. "A novel concept, I know."

You nudged him in the ribs and he gave an exaggerated wince.

"Watch it. There's no exit and I'm more than capable of beating your ass."

Theo laughed at that, openly and unabashed.

"You're going to beat my ass?"

"Just said I would, didn't I?"

Theo snorted, mumbling something somewhat affectionate under his breath. You turned away, hiding your grin. Your cheeks were pink and your eyes glittered with the thrill of being Theo's company - the only person who could keep up with you.

He continued shuffling the cards, a little slower now.

“I’m thinking.”

You looked back at him, once again interested. “Dangerous.”

He flicked a card at you without looking, and you batted it away with a grin. “Thinking about what?”

His shuffling slowed to a stop. “Nothing.”

“Oh, it’s something.” You leaned even closer to him now, your knees brushing against his thigh. “Something broody and dramatic, I bet. Come on, spill.”

Theo exhaled through his nose. “Drop it.”

“Not a chance,” you chirped. "Just tell me what it is. Unless you’re scared.”

That got him. His jaw ticked, fingers tapping on the deck.

“Didn’t peg you for a coward, Nott,” you goaded, bumping your knee against his. “You can tell me.”

Theo let out a slow breath, his shoulders tensing. He shuffled the deck once more, but this time, his movements weren’t just for show. They were measured, thoughtful, almost like he was buying himself time.

You covered his hands with yours, stopping him. He glanced down to where the two of you were practically holding hands.

“If I tell you something, you have to promise not to laugh.”

You nodded. "Did you kill a man."

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "No."

"Is it about the shuffling? Were you secretly roped into an underground gambling ring over the summer? Is that where you learnt all those tricks?"

You could tell he desperately wanted to smile but was stopping himself. "No," Theo said, his grip on your hand tightening.

"You started an underground gambling ring? Without me?"

"Do you ever shut up?"

You dropped your eyes to his crotch for a fraction of a second.

"Ach - not like t - that's not what I meant."

"I'm just messing with you." You ran a hand through his hair despite his desperate, one-handed attempts to bat you away. "Tell me already."

Theo hesitated. You became suddenly aware of how quiet the Room was. You felt an awful, sinking feeling in your stomach that maybe Theo was right. You weren't going to like what he had to say.

“I don’t mind being stuck here.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

He shifted beside you, tapping the deck of cards against his knee.

“I mean, yeah, it’s a bit ridiculous how we ended up here, but…” He trailed off, searching for the right words.

“It’s not the worst thing in the world. Being here. Being stuck here. With you.”

You stared at him. His eyes shone with that stupidly optimistic sincerity of his that you only saw glimpses of from time to time. He meant every single word.

His grip slackened. Wordlessly, you retracted your hand. How were you to bear this?

"You're right," you said in a voice thick with unshed tears. "That is absolutely ridiculous. It's downright - " your voice quivered. You brushed a hand across your eyes. "Downright laughable."

A sobering silence followed. You wondered if Theo was kicking himself for having opened his mouth in the first place. You wondered if you should say something.

"You really don't mind this?" you started hoarsely. You tilted your head to face him. "You don't mind me? I mean, I pelted you with Monopoly pieces while yelling abuse at you. I messed up your hair."

His mouth curved into that faint, breezy smile of his.

"'Course I don't mind it."

"Why not?" You should.

"'Cause it's you." It's you. It's always been you.

Your eyes fluttered shut. You felt the exhaustion of being trapped in here catching up to you. You rested your head on his clavicle. Hesitantly, he turned his head to press his lips to your temple.

"I have to be honest, Y/N," he muttered against your hair. "I don't know if we're getting out of here."

"S'alright." You pressed a tiny kiss to his shoulder. "There's nothing I'd rather than do, either."

It's what all this loving him, hating him, wanting him boiled down to. Interlacing his long, careful fingers with your own, you decided that yes, there was no one else you'd rather be stuck with.

[writingdevil]

I know you wrote a fic for Burned Bridges already, so I’m just gonna request a potential platonic interaction between them. If that’s ok

(Of course! I'm completely fine with writing stuff for the same ship so don't be afraid to request for the same stuff, because I honestly don't mind. Anyway, enjoy!)

Smitten turned to the left in his bed, hoping that now would be the moment that his mind granted him peace.

It wasn't.

Smitten sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and tucking his blanket right up to under his chin, but it was no use. No amount of tossing and turning was going to make him go asleep.

He groaned, throwing the blanket off him and trying to ignore how cold the rest of his bed felt, and he sat up.

He looked out of his window, admiring the stars in the sky for a few moments, and then allowing a frown to fall on his face, one that he makes sure he doesn't let the others see.

He was lonely.

Smitten was so lonely.

He tried to make the best of this freedom, to put on a big smile and encourage others to pursue the things they loved, to follow their hearts-but Smitten couldn't even do that himself.

Where was his princess to adore? What was his purpose if not to give everything to one specific person?

Of course he loved his flock-of course he did-but they weren't as passionate or as yearning for romance as Smitten was, and Smitten didn't want them to try and pretend for him.

Before he knew it, he was throwing his legs over the side of his bed, because he couldn't possibly stay in his room for another lonely minute.

He felt a heavy sadness weighing down on him as he walked out of his bedroom, and he was almost disgusted with how much it was affecting him. Him, who was once nothing more than a tiny voice in a God's head. Him, who had been granted freedom and agency. Him, who had ten other amazing people to spend the rest of his new life with-and he was complaining about being lonely?

His feet guided him down the quiet hallway and into the living room, and Smitten thought that maybe reading or preening his feathers for long enough would make him sleepy again.

He walked into the living, immediately shivering at how cold the room was, and his feathers instinctively puffed up to try and preserve some body heat for him. He took a step into the room, wondering where the candles were, when Smitten suddenly felt a light but firm breeze hit his face from the right.

He turned to the right and-"Shit!"

There, just leaning against a wall and blending into the darkness, was Cold.

Smitten jumped back while clutching a hand to his chest, his body freezing in shock as Cold took a step forward, his brows arched in surprise.

"I didn't know you cursed," Cold mused quietly in the night, and Smitten gave him a half-hearted glare once the shock wore off. "I try my best not to," he replied stiffly, standing up straight as Cold's gaze seemed to drill into his skin, and he pushed away the mortification of slipping up and using such vulgar language.

"Why are you awake?" Smitten asked, walking around in search of a candle. He tried not to shiver as he felt Cold's gaze stick to him as he moved around the dark room.

He managed to find a candle to light, and that was when Cold hummed in thought, and when Smitten turned around, he was stunned to find Cold holding out a match for him to light.

Smitten stared at the match, then lifted his gaze to Cold, who just shrugged and said, "Couldn't sleep."

Smitten wasn't sure if he could believe that, but trying to understand someone like Cold was a fools errand, so he just accepted the match without another word.

When the living room was quickly illuminated in a dim light, it already made Smitten feel less alone and melancholic. He sat down on the couch, wrapping his wings around himself for comfort, watching as Cold didn't move a muscle.

"Is it often that you're awake at this hour?" Smitten asked, and Cold shrugged. "It depends on how the day went. It wasn't particularly eventful, so I don't don't feel the need to sleep right now."

Then Cold gave him a look that Smitten knew what was about to be asked, but he just lowered his head in shame in the hopes that Cold wouldn't bother.

But alas, that only made Cold more intrigued. "Why couldn't someone as fanciful as yourself fall asleep? Couldn't think of another romantic daydream to fall asleep to?"

Smitten didn't have enough energy to do anything more than glare in Cold's direction, not bothered enough to even call him a villain right now.

Himself and Cold had a very-unique-relationship. It was true that Smitten couldn't fathom the way the other lived, numbing the feelings he deemed unnecessary, acting as if that was one needed to survive, to live. But Smitten knew that their petty arguments were becoming wearisome to the rest of his flock, so he tried his best to just be civil around Cold.

They mostly stayed out of each other's way, but Smitten couldn't help the burning curiosity in his chest for the other. How could somebody possibly live with such a hole in their heart?

"No," Smitten said emptily, "I'm just-restless."

"Restless?" Cold echoed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "This is the first time I've heard of you being restless instead of-how did you put it? Bursting with fiery passion?" There was a tug of a smirk on Cold's lips, but Smitten couldn't find it within him to care that much right now.

So he just gave Cold a blank look and shrugged, offering no arguments there, and that was when Cold seemed the most shocked, his eyes widening in surprise at Smitten's lack of fight.

Neither of them spoke a word for the next few minutes, and Smitten found that the silence was quiet peaceful. Usually he preferred being a part of swift, energetic moments-but there was also a beauty in silence.

He didn't notice when Cold sat down beside him, but when he did, the bird's voice was much softer and less teasing. "Do you know what might be making you so restless?"

"Why do you care?" Smitten asked, and Cold shrugged, glancing around the room as he replied, "Well, I figured it must be something quite serious if it's knocked you down to this."

Then Smitten did something he never thought he'd do with Cold. He laughed.

His chuckle was weak and pathetic, all things considered-but it did make something loosen up within his chest, and seeing Cold's look of surprise also helped.

He leaned back against the couch, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling. "I-um-" Smitten gulped, not entirely sure if admitting his issues with Cold was a good idea, "-I couldn't fall asleep because-because I was lonely."

He paused, waiting for the sting of Cold's monotone insult to land-but it never came.

Once he started, Smitten felt like he had to finish. "I just couldn't find it in me to sleep in my bed when I feel like I should be sharing it with someone-but I'm not, and it just feels wrong to me, that I don't have that anymore."

"What's that?"

"Love," Smitten blurted out without thinking. "That desire to give my entire heart to one person. I feel unfulfilled without that."

After a few seconds, Smitten's words begin to weigh him down, and he brought his knees up to tuck under his chin. "You must think me selfish," he mumbled, "that I've been given the chance of a lifetime to live my own life, and yet still I complain."

"I don't think it's wrong to have something bad to say about this," Cold said, making Smitten look up at him in intrigue.

"As pointless as complaining may be, you can't help how you feel towards a certain thing, no matter how great that thing may be. If anything, critising something makes you seem sharp, like the way your brother is."

Smitten smiled at the thought of Skeptic, but still asked, "Do you have any complaints about our freedom?"

"No," was Cold's immediate response, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking away from Smitten. "I don't have to be burdened with you all anymore."

Smitten chuckled again, and his eyelids were beginning to feel heavy. "For someone who claims to be numb," Smitten said, "you sure have an awful lot of feelings on certain matters."

This time, it was Cold who let a huff of laughter out, and Smitten smiled in victory.

He couldn't believe he was saying this-but he was actually enjoying this talk with Cold.

He yawned, and found himself resting his head on Cold's shoulder, who flinched, then relaxed.

"I'm sorry for ever calling you a villain," Smitten mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open, "You're not as heartless as I thought."

A pause, and then Cold asked, "What changed your mind?"

"The fact that you're here, talking to me."

Cold was silent for so long that Smitten almost dozed off to sleep, but then Cold spoke up, voice quiet and gentle in the dark.

"For what it's worth, I think it's incorrect to say that you're lonely for one true love, when you're surrounded by a whole flock of people that care for you. Just today, Broken helped you sew the blanket that you sleep in, Hunted preened your wings before bed, and Hero ate dinner with you today. All those acts count as love, so to discard them in favour of a perfect romance seems stupid-at least on behalf of them."

Smitten found himself smiling at the way Cold tried to sound so disinterested in Smitten's dilemma, but his words showed otherwise.

He was right, though. Smitten didn't feel lonely anymore, and he promised himself that he would notice the love that the others gave him from now on with complete sincerity.

He fell asleep next to Cold, and he had the first peaceful sleep in months.

[tavolgisvist]

Cage / Paul and John in 1978

(after this)

Paul and the Eastmans had more business to discuss during that June visit [16-19 June 1978], namely, the still unresolved matter of dividing up the millions of dollars in record royalties that had accumulated in Apple’s coffers since March 1971. Dissolution papers, signed by the four Beatles in December 1974, severed their business ties, but the Beatles recording royalties continued to flow into Apple, with each Beatle receiving 5 percent, while 80 percent went into Apple’s bank account. According to Paul, the main sticking point in reaching a financial settlement was John’s insistence that the others indemnify him against both US and UK tax claims. Until now, the Eastmans had resisted any such agreement, but keen to break the deadlock, Paul sought their blessing to accept Lennon’s terms; after all, what good was a divorce without a settlement?

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

I spoke to the Eastmans. I said, “If we all think he’s not going to have a tax consequence, let’s give [the indemnity] to him.”’Cause, you know, if all sides are that smart, let’s all offer it. Break the deadlock. I went to New York, feeling like the bringer of good news. I rang him up. “Hello, John, how are you? Hello, how’s the kids? Oh, great. What’s all this about publishing? Yeah, great”—laugh laugh laugh—“What about Apple?” Tense. You know, that was the unfortunate thing in the last ten years. The moment you mention the word Apple, all of us go, eeeeep! Dread and horror and shock goes through all our systems. I said, “Look, as I understand it, you need this indemnity.” John said, “Fucking indemnity. Fucking this, fucking that. You don’t need to give me fucking indemnity, you fucking—” I think we ended up just sort of swearing at each other. I said, “Fuck you, ya big cunt,” ’cause I just couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t be sweet and reasonable anymore. I was shaking for an hour after that. Of course, the funniest thing was, I then meant to ring John Eastman and say to him, “No, no, it’s not gonna work, this whole thing. I tried to do the indemnity, it’s not gonna work.” Of course, I got the phone numbers wrong. I rang John Lennon back instead. [When the phone was answered, I said,] “Hello, John? Yeah, listen, I just—oh—yeah well…” But it was Yoko this time, and then I said, “Look, I didn’t mean for it to get like that—but, shit, you know, it seems to have got…” The funny thing was, they knew I was trying to ring John Eastman immediately after, so that would have reinforced their little feelings about me double-dealing. I’ve hardly talked to him since.

(Paul McCartney, 1980, in All You Need Is Love by Peter Brown and Steven Gaines, 2024)

Paul’s rage turned to embarrassment. Desperate to set the record straight and not leave New York under a storm cloud, Paul took a taxi ride to the Dakota building. The Lennons’ interior gardener, Mike Meideros, was watering plants when Paul pulled up outside. “It was maybe like five o’clock in the evening,” Meideros recalled, “and the concierge called up. I don’t know the exact conversation because I didn’t hear it, I just heard Yoko saying, ‘No, he can’t come up now.’ And I thought that was pretty cold.”

(Robert Rodriguez, Audio interview with Mike “Tree” Meideros for Something About the Beatles podcast, first broadcast March 10, 2024 - in The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

The next song Paul brought in was a peculiar but musically fascinating medley. The first part, which he had demoed during the summer [June-July 1978], was a lively track built over an energetically bouncing bass line, alternatively called ‘Emotional Moments’ (after the opening lines, “Emotional moments / You left in a rage”) and ‘Cage’ (after the refrain, which immediately follows, “And if you could love me now / I wouldn’t be in a cage”). In the demos, the bass figure, shadowed by a synthesizer, continued in various permutations through the full track, and included a brisk, ear-catching chordal interlude dominated by the synthesizer. Now Paul added a second verse, which more or less explained the “cage” reference: “Provisional license* / I’m under arrest / But if you could get me out / I’d like to take another test.” The chordal interlude was moved to the end of the song, where it precedes a final verse. In the medley, Paul has interposed an entirely different song between the opening and closing verses of ‘Emotional Moments.’ Called ‘He Didn’t Mean It,’ this second song is slower and more melodic. In its lyrics, Paul revives a trick the Beatles had used in ‘She Loves You’…

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

Emotional moments, you left in a rage But if you could love me now, I wouldn't be in a cage Provisional license, I'm under arrest But if you could get me out, I'd like to take another test I've been sent to tell you That the man you were with last night Is feeling sorry, sorry But he told me to tell you That he hardly ever lies But he lied to you last night He didn't mean it, no Said he didn't mean it, no I've been sent to tell you That the man you were with last night Is feeling lonely only for you He told me to tell you That he hardly ever cries But he cried for you last night, ooh He didn't mean it, no Said he didn't mean it, no

(Cage/Emotional moment)

[maraudersidk]

doing eyeliner makes me wanna bang my head against the wall and bawl my eyes out.

Anyway my makeup is eating the suffering was worth it.

[strawberryfaced]

I NEED. TO DO. OR MAKE SOMETHING. PLEASE

[crystalleoi]

oc stuff ^^

their names in order of images are Aero(+ their beloved wife Mackenzie), Venus, and Zettabyte

additional doodles underground

mostly aero because their design hasn't changed very much at all... i've drawn plenty of the others but a lot of it is of their older designs :/

[tonycries]

DDD

Synopsis. What’s destroyed on Destroy D!ck December? Him.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, MARATHONS, heavy overstím, creampíes, BRÉEDING, cúmplay, pússydrunk men, ínnapropríate use of jujutsu, powers going haywire, matíng press, making them cry, bondagé (Nanami), GOJO’S POWERS, mánhandling, true form Sukuna, dp, Sukuna’s mouths, p talking, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 6.1k

A/N. Hope you all have a lovely December <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 23rd Dec. 5:46AM

It’s around this time that Toji Fushiguro loses count - loses his damn mind. 

Gasping- heaving back every tiny whimper when his ruby red tip plants sopping wet smacks right down your tender folds. Gushing out generous helpings of pearly white that slip and slide all the way down.

And it hasn’t been once. Oh, it hasn’t even been twice. 

Dozens upon dozens of times - for hours now - Toji was collapsing his big, beefy limbs down into yours in the messiest mating press. With a dragged-out groan, he’s smearing his thumb down the edges of your treacling slit, popping it into his mouth eagerly. 

“Heh- jus’ look at her all overflowin’ f’me.” Toji’s rasping - voice so shot he could barely even breathe. And you wonder if he even realizes he’s babbling this way. “S’that oh- s’that twenty-three, yet?” 

It better not be.

Toji refuses to let it be. 

“C-can feel it coming again-” he’s choking out a ragged whine. How embarrassing. Thick fingers curling around your throat to squeeze, “-can hah- can I- inside again…please, doll.”

It’s as if on some slutty autopilot that you let his massive, calloused palms glide down your thighs and push. The way his bulging biceps flex with strain makes your mouth water - all bulging and covered in a thin sheen of sweat that smears against yours. 

He was out of control. Out of his sanity.

And just one peak down at the creamy ring your cunt was coating around his hefty hilt was enough for Toji to throw his head back with a moan of your name.

Destroyed. 

With a fatigued shiver, he’s spearheading his fat head into you until you see white, dragging a drippingly wet swipe of steaming hot precum all over your cushiony sweet spots.. 

Whispering, “Shit- what ya do to me- s-squeeze me- squeeze me with that pretty pussy jus’ once.” Racking out a bout of violent shivers down the entirety of his hulking body when your sloppy walls give his girth a tight little clench. 

And that’s all it takes for Toji to cum.

All it takes for his sensitive cock to bawl out in stringy wads of seed that splatter right into the bottom of your pussy, pumping you full. Toji falls tiredly onto his elbows with a sudden hiss at the stinging thwack! of his twitchy balls sticking to your skin. 

“O-oh yeah- that’s twenty-two- milk me- milk me, doll.” And it feels so good that it’s almost painful, stars bursting over and over behind his teary lids when his own seed sloshes a white gloss down every delicate ridge and vein of his. “Heheh- takin’ m-me so well-  jus’ one more right? We’re almost there-”

But he’s already lost count.

And Toji doesn’t care - he doesn’t even give a shit.

The way your puffy pussy lips were sucking up his cock was like a sheer miracle after the long, treacherous task of November. Tch- who even came up with such a thing as no nutting? Though, he couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t like the idea of December…

Yeah, he was going to fill his girl’s needy lil’ pussy with his cum again and again until he reaches his mark of twenty-three even if it kills him. And he could die a happy death right between these jittery legs of yours. 

You whine, grappling towards the thudding headboard that was now indenting your poor wall. You didn’t know how the hell he was still going. “B-but are you sure you can, baby? Don’t know if it’ll f-fit-”

“Oh- don’t speak so f-filthy ta me with that sweet mouth, ma.” 

“But Toji—”

Toji juts his scarred lips out in what you swear was almost a pout. He’s squeezing your delicate neck warningly, other hand pushing down on your tummy to make your sloppy entrance gush out in milky white dredges. Strangling out, “See? A-all you hafta ta do is shut up and take my fuckin’ cock- take my cum.” And he’s so lazy, all dripping with sweat and sheer sex when Toji slides his cheek down your own like an animal. “My pretty girl can ngh- d-do that f’me, right?”

It was so rare that you get to see the great Toji Fushiguro like this. 

So drunk on the power and the way he was kissing up French peck after peck against your g-spot that it makes you smile. “O-only if you hngh- beg.”

“Doll…”

“Beg.”

Truly, you imagined that Toji would roll his greedy green eyes- shit, were those tears in them? at you and simply snicker. 

What you didn’t expect was for him to grunt, before dragging you with the vice-like grip on your neck to meet his smacking sharp hips. Down, down, down- 

“Tch.” he’s grumbling, condensed breath feverish on your face. Sharp jaw clenching almost painfully - but not as painfully as the way his thick cock was swollen so rock-hard. Needy. Desperate. “M’begging you, ma- please l-let me cum- inside this cute cunt.”

You can only nod - nod and nod when his weepy tip plants pound after pound on your thoroughly bruised cervix. 

“Atta girl.”

And with a slight swat! from the rounded edges of his fat digits down onto your pulsing clit - you don’t know who’s cumming first. 

So hot and blissful. It’s like you were floating in heaven when Toji wrangles your body down flat onto the sheets and cums. Cumming and cumming yet- his utterly dazed eyes snap open, nothing was coming out.

“Shit-” Toji guides his free hand to wrap around his fat reddened base. Pumping up and down up and down up and- he half blacks out. “Fuck…c-completely ruined me, ma.” And the only thing that Toji can let loose is a few thick beads of his seed that dot your precious sweet spots. 

But he wasn’t having that.

In an instant, you’re being jostled with every ounce of strength in his large body. Straddling Toji’s slender hips, you’re collapsing to rub down his washboard abs. And he only grins, he only lolls his head drunkenly into the plush pillows. 

Overstimulated cock twitching ferally against your elastic walls as he still keeps cumming dry, he didn’t know if he could make it…“That- ngh- doesn’t count. So why dontcha ride me to t-twenty-three, doll?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 16th Dec. 7:30PM

“Don’t run.” Nanami keens brokenly at the back of his throat. More. He needs more. “Please d-don’t run don’t run, my love-” 

And if it wasn’t for that velvety yellow tie binding his strong arms behind his back, they would be wrapping around your arched body so tight until you were sure your husband never wanted to let go. It’s all that Nanami can do to jump his thighs up higher to glissade your pretty pussy down his girthy shaft.

You’re whining out a little, “C-can’t help it, Kento- you’re jus’ filling me up so much-”

God, the ever-sensible Nanami Kento was so ruined by now. 

So utterly pussydrunk that even the mere sound of your honeyed tone complimenting him is enough to have him rutting his flushed cockhead to nudge deeper and deeper into your gooey walls. You were riding him so languidly, spreading open your insides on just the curve. 

More more more more-

“D-don’t say that—” he all but cries in a deep whine over the syrupy squelch after smooching squelch. Sweat-slicked face pushing into the tender crook of your neck, “-I m-might cum from jus’ that, darling. S’wasted- n-need to fuck a baby into ya, remember?”

With a drunkenly smug daze smeared across your face, you’re cushioning your hands all over his heaving chest. Muscled. Rugged. Peaking your trembly fingers across his bulging pecs, “That would be the ngh- sixteenth time, right, Ken? And in your office, too- so dirty~”

It was so fun to tease your dear Nanami.

To watch his drooping glasses fog up with heady condensation, to watch his high cheekbones blush into something innocently rosy. Stern mouth slack with awe when you glide the fat of your thumb across its corner to swipe away his translucent trail of overstimulated drool. 

Sensitive. Shit, so sensitive.

And you’re hearing miniscule rips! when he pulls against the tie - the only thing keeping Nanami from tattering it into a million pieces was your wish to tie your handsome husband up.

“B-but how could I not?” he hisses, genuinely floored. You feel yourself be bounced through the sheer strength in his toned core. Atoms stand on end with jujutsu - his technique. Your g-spot is battered. Up and down up and down up and- “Y-you’re just so perfect n’ pretty ngh- a-and oh I can’t stay away from this pretty cunt–”

Nanami’s head lolls pussydrunkenly with every squelching shove into your tight channel. He’s opening up every sweet nook and cranny inside you, mashing into that magical spot. 

“My pretty girl- gonna make such a pretty momma. Y-you just feel so oh-” Words are failing him. And with a shuddering gulp he dares look down at the way your cunt was drenching him in milky wave after wave of cum. Breeding you. Breathing out, “-this might jus’ be heaven.”

And heaven it was.

“Aw, you’re so ngh- sweet, Ken– s’this from how long ya had to wait in November?” He’s so pretty. Your fingers caress over the big, fat tears welling their way up in his half-lidded eyes. Planting a salty peck against his wobbly lips, “Love you–”

“I love you, too-” Nanami breathes - he whimpers. “Love you love you love you- ngh- m’never participating in that goddamn No Nut November again. S-sixteen’s not ‘nough- s’never gonna e-enough-”

And Nanami didn’t even know if he could make it to sixteen.

Because his hefty balls were jostling against your ass so harshly, every press of your ass down his tight, cum-filled sack making him spurt out a few wispy sputters of cum. Sloshing your cozy insides- But it didn’t count - no, it didn’t count unless he had you overspilling. 

“O-overspilling?” you giggle- shit, did he say that out loud? “Ken- are you ser-”

SLAM!

Desperation bleeds into his movement. Into his breaths. Into every single stroke of his sloppy cock when Nanami wrenches his hands free from the restraint in a split-second. 

A single split-second is all it takes for him to bully your pliant body down on his desk in one, fluid motion.

In control now.

Well, as in control as he could be when he was fucking losing it.

The desk rattles with every pound he’s gifting your poor, battered g-spot. Over and over- shit, it was so scarily accurate that it left you reeling about whether Nanami was using his ratio technique - did he even realize. 

Slam! 

Nanami’s arm shudders down onto the rustling papers that he definitely should’ve been working on instead. And you bolt at the sudden cinch of atoms - yeah, definitely his technique. “M’serious- ngh oh- I’ve never been more serious in m’life, my love-” Hunching over now, you could admire the way his back muscles popped and flexed with every rough jackhammer. 

“So pretty and-” Words choking into tiny moans at the back of his throat, “-and mine.”

As soon as Nanami’s thick digits pop into his mouth, you feel his overwhelmed cock strike up a few electric jolts before cumming. Hot shaft swelling and throbbing with his pumping pulse, fucking your snug cunt full of syrupy oozes of cum. Your poor sweet spots - over and over, powers out of control. 

And so was Nanami.

Eyeing the creamy globs spittling down the side of your slit, he’s smearing open your swollen pussy folds with a few thick fingers, making you flinch at the cool touch of his wedding ring.  Greedily scooping them up into his mouth to spit. Right onto your very tastebuds, before dragging you into a filthy, filthy mess of a kiss. 

“Ngh- gonna marry ya- have all round and glowing.” he’s panting against your open mouth. “Gonna- sh-shit gonna make you my wife-”

You’re letting off a few sweet moans every time he’s clashing wetly against your-spot. “I am your wife, Kento-”

Five words. 

Only five words does it take for Nanami to halt in his tracks. For him to strain out a crazed, “E-even better…”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 11th Dec. 2:28AM

“What was that?”

“Suguru-”

He’s shutting you up promptly with a swift smack! right onto the edge of your plump clit, fingers lingering to smear over those excess dredges of cum from just before. 

They have you weakening on all fours. 

They have you making such a fucking mess. 

And you hear Geto shudder in a shrill breath at the sight of your drooling cunt dripping all down his wrist, you hear him clear his rasping throat of a few traitorous whimpers. Oh, it takes everything in him to pretend he wasn’t as fucking ruined as he was. “Letting it drip a-all out of your slutty pussy, d-didn’t I tell ya to ngh- take all eleven, gorgeous?” 

It’s a trick question.. 

And Geto isn’t waiting for an answer, Geto can barely even hear you through the thundering of his own furious pulse in his ears. Ringing and making him so dizzy- 

With one hand kneading down on the arch of your back, his hips pummel into you thoroughly, shoving your squirming hips back down onto the silken sheets. Rotund, pinkish head feeding into all your sweetest spots without even trying.

“Mhmmm–” he’s letting his head loll back to swipe a few greedy digits over the creamy ring at his hilt - plugging them easily back into your overly stuffed pussy. Slender and swirling all around the outer edges of his fat cock. With the other he pretends to count, “-nine, ten eleven- sure did. S-so that ah- eleventh one didn’t count, riiiight?”

And you just about only have the strength to gasp, “D-doesn’t count?”

“Nuh uh, doesn’t count.”

Thwacking a stinging smack! right onto the jiggling flesh of your ass, Geto only pushes and pushes and reels out peak after peak of white-hot pleasure with every pound. Grinning when your slack-jawed lips gasp in lewd awe to mewl, “Th-then- ah! I w-want it all in this time. No teasing, Sugu–”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit - he really underestimated how much a lil’ minx his girl was.

Because that makes Geto let out a heavy gasp, it makes his dewey deep eyes pop out almost dramatically. Sweeping one hand through his long, curtaining bangs to get a better scope of your jittery body. All splayed out and so prettily fucked underneath him.

Beautiful. So, so beautiful and- oh, he was more drunk on your pussy than he thought. 

“Oh, p-pretty girl–” His lips smear up your sweat-glistening spine in a trail of kisses. Up, up, up to press a saccharine sweet peck onto your cheek. “Heh, how could I not?”

And you swear Geto’s melodic voice cracked into something desperate at the end -almost as if it was…a whine.

But you don’t get to confirm, not before with a rippling thud! you’re feeling something heavy rest itself on your head. Whirling your bleary eyes as much as you could to take in what was Geto’s foot - so rudely positioned upon your body to shovel himself even deeper into your plushy cunt.

It felt too damn good.

And, fuck, Geto was angry at himself for the way he was letting big, overstimulated tears well up in his eyes with every pretty peck into your sopping wet cervix. Fucking you like an animal. With every wet swipe right at the bottom of your cunt- 

“S-Sugu-” you’re babbling out, heart stuttering at the feeling of something wet drizzling down heatedly onto your shoulder. “Are you cry-”

“No.”

Yes.

Because Geto was so sensitive. So stimulated. Every sodden crash into your tight pussy had stars bursting behind Geto’s eyes, throat ragged raw with a sudden keen. “M-m’not cryin’ s’just- fuuuck- yer a real troublemaker, aren’t ya?” 

It takes a few sloppy seconds before you realize with a jolt that Geto isn’t talking to you - no, he had his flaming eyes downturned to look at your bulging cunt. To salivate over the way your puffy folds were greedily drenching all his staggering inches. 

And he’s talking to her, nodding all to every honeyed squelch! that makes your ears burn.

“Right right–” Geto cups one of you jiggling tits with his massive palms. Kneading. Squeezing. “-sh-she is gorgeous-” Pressing a too-sweet smooch by your sweat-dampened forehead, “-my gorgeous girl…hehh- you knew what would oh- h-happen when you told me about this challenge, right?”

“Know what, Suguru?” you’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes him grit through a shudder. Evil, evil tricks you had. 

But whatever you could do - Geto Suguru could, too, ten times worse. 

Which is why he’s slamming into you so fast that you’re finding yourself almost thrown into the jittering headboard. Bolting fast. Hard. 

Curling a few fingers around your neck to bounce you back into his sharp hipbones, “Where do you think you’re r-running away? Don’t run away–”

You weren’t. 

But Geto sounded so genuinely upset, so genuinely in disbelief. His cheeks hollowing when he sucks in a sudden breath and rummages at your melty insides so good. Planting tiny pinches to your clit like it was going to make you forget the pearly, splattering tears into your shoulder. Yet, with the way that Geto was fucking you positively stupid then you think you just might. 

Geto’s curling his deft fingers inside to sneak across your sweetened spots, around and around before swiping the remnant dredges of cum across his pre-glossed lips. 

“K-kiss me, gorgeous.” He tastes like honey. Hot. Voice practically a roughened growl at this point. “G-gonna take it all, aren’t ya? Gonna fill this pretty p-pussy up with my cum- ngh- gonna have it s-so everyone knows what I did- ah- so they know-”

And no matter how composed Geto pretended to be - you could hear the tiny whimpers curling at the back of his throat, the grumbling ah! ah! ah! at every thrust. 

He’s babbling, drunken and you don’t even think he remembers a thing about the challenge anymore. “M’gonna get ya pregnant, doll…”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 8th Dec. 6:45PM

“B-baby-” Choso’s voice is so warm - so broken. Sobbing. He’s gifting your ankle with an innocent peck, “Baby let me s-see your pretty face- p-please look my way–”

“M’already here…” With a slightly syrupy giggle you press a gentle kiss against Choso’s sweat-streaked forehead. “Let it out- let it alll out, Cho-”

That forgotten movie plays over and over in the background when with a flinching shudder, Choso cums. Wrangling your limp body to him so tight that you’re feeling every tiny flex of his washboard abs, every sweaty glissade of his muscular thighs kneeing apart yours. 

“O-oh–” Choso hisses out the tiniest of whimpers against your skin with every splat! of cozy rivers of cum down your snug cunt. “M-move that pretty hand- move it for me-”

Gently shoving away the overwhelmed hand on your bulging cunt, he’s pulling out his achy cock from your entrance. Making such a mess on your poor couch. “Oh.”

And Choso doesn’t say anything more - not a word. 

He can’t.

Not even a peep while he’s fixating his widened eyes down on the way your inner thighs were drooling all over with waves of his own cum. So full. And he gulps. 

You’re running your fingers through his silky soft strands, “All done, baby?”

And Choso only jolts his entire muscular body on top of you as if the thought never even crossed his mind. Sheer panic bleeding into those pussy drunken eyes of his when they widen and bore down into yours, “A-actually that’s not- ngh- that’s-”

Shit, he couldn’t even explain himself right now. Because Choso didn’t have to say anything - he was already moving.

Head throwing back when his hips push back downwards in a wet little grind - experimental. Just the singular clench of your elastic walls around his length in a perfectly cozy hug makes him throw his head back with a whimper. So sensitive. “I’m sorry, baby I- I can’t stop.”

It didn’t matter what day it was today. It didn’t matter exactly how many times Choso had pumped your pretty pussy full of his voluminous cum. Because it was never enough. 

Never will be enough.

He was too addicted to the way his own warm cum was sloshing around your gooey insides, making such a filthy slurping gloss that practically speaks to him. Your pussy was extra talkative today, slurring out the most saturated squelches! whenever he’s diving his fat cockhead past your entrance. 

“Wh-what is it? The ngh- eight?” Meshing a wet kiss over and over that magical g-spot - just the way he was with your pouty mouth. Lips wobbling as he begs, “I-I can c-cum inside again, right, baby? P-please–? Look I’ll even make room-”

And before you can utter a word, your dear, sweet boyfriend was plunging out. Accompanied by a few sopping wet slurps of his seed that waterfall freely and drizzle down his furiously reddened length. 

Choso bites his lip at the heavenly sight, holding back a grin that curls down the sides of his rosy red mouth. Oh, this was so not just about “making room.”

Something that makes you hum, “Well then-” And as soon as you’re smearing your legs open even wider, Choso gapes. Urgently pressing a thumb over his weepy divot to keep himself from cumming all over again. “-wontcha be a hngh good boy f’me, then?”

Choso nods - nods over and over when he fucks back through your gummy hole. Nods with every drawling babble that leaves his mouth, “G-gonna be your good boy, baby- gonna cum inside- gonna let me, right? Promise I’ll m-make it to eight-”

Not to mind the fact that he already had. 

But he doesn’t care. Not a single ounce when your inflated walls were molding around him this way - like you were made for him.

“R-right here–” He’s trailing up the rounded curve of one thick index about halfway down your tummy, pressing down on the slight swollen nudge of where he could feel himself absolutely wrecking you. Wrecking himself. “-gonna be f-finishing the challenge riiiight here.”

“Yes yes yes-” you whine, hips bucking up to catch onto his sloppy cadence. It almost hurts just how hard he was fucking into you - dragging rawly all over your cunt, no sweetened spot left unbruised. “-cum inside- cum in me, Cho–”

“F-fuck-”

It’s a tiny whimper - broken. So utterly fucked-out when Choso crashes his lips onto your battered ones and sucks. 

And you think Choso is cumming - you feel Choso cumming. His hulking boy hunches, his strong arms bend you to his lewd will so hard you think you hear your joint creak. Positioning in the perfect angle to flood your insides with heap after sloshing heap of cum.

Once. Twice. 

Multiple orgasms clashing into each other before it tapers out into nothing and you’re feeling Choso’s bawling divot at the very ends of his tip cum dry. 

Only a few seconds later do you realize that those wet speckles crashing heatedly onto your cheeks are tears. And even later do you realize that Choso’s latched his rough fingers onto your overwhelmed clit to pinch. Rolling it so harshly that your fatigued body has no choice but to crash headfirst into your own orgasm.

Your nails draw red, red lines all the way down his pale, sculpted back. Honestly, Choso was so mean when he wanted to be. 

“Y-yeah? K-kiss gimme a kiss, baby–” He’s peeking up at you with practically gleaming eyes - and the syrupy sweet love swirling around was palpable. “Am I a good boy- ngh- d-does it feel good, baby–?”

And you can only nod right about now. Feeling so full inside that it was like his sickly sweet cum was barging into your womb. You gasp when his thickened cock slips out ever-so-slightly from your entrance, gumming out a wet trail of cum. Making Choso snap his head down and-

“Oh.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 28th Dec. 12:01AM

“Sooo…” Sukuna grumbles his hot breath to condense in a feverish puff against the side of your ear in such a mean full nelson. He’s practically laughing at you - chuckling in a drunkenly delirious way. “Think that lil’ human body of yours can give me a hah- twenty-eighth today?”

Hell, you didn’t think it was even possible to withstand such a stretch of his doubly swollen girths jostling around your snug channel. You didn’t think it was possible to last this long-

You’re baring him with a pretty, pretty pout that makes him tunnel his long hard cocks into you even harder. Faster. “O-of course I can-”

Heh…cute. Sukuna didn’t bother telling your proud self that it’d been the reversed curse technique that still kept your drooling cunt so needy without breaking a few bones. Yet. 

“Well, that mouth of yours says ya can- but this pretty pussy…” Trailing off, sharpened black nails trace over your cunt and make you shiver. As if that wasn’t enough - as if the squelching slurps emanating from where your cunt was being so tightly split-apart wasn’t enough - Sukuna manifests his second mouth on a smaller scale to give your pretty clit a long French kiss. “-she’s fuckin’ bratty, isn’t she?”

And he’s planting a staggering smack right onto the neglected bud of your clit. Swiping his heated tongue around and around in such a way that makes you buck-

Swat!

“Oi- keep that cunt still f’me or else…” Now, Sukuna didn’t have to try to ever sound threatening - but then again he never had to bite back such pathetic whimpers from the back of his throat. He never had to hold in his tired whines when your gummy walls stretch so rawly around his cocks. So unfairly good. “O-or else…fuuuck.”

You whirl your dazed eyes around with a sudden gasp - did Ryomen Sukuna stutter? It has you babbling out a stupid, “Kuna, d-did you just-”

Like hell he would let his pretty queen see him like that. 

And without warning - without even a single symptom that he heard your question - Sukuna stands up right onto his muscular feet. 

You’re being slapped with a heavy crash of his dripping wet heads against your bulbous g-spot. Gravity taking its lewd advantage to slide you down, down, down his throbbing lengths until you were scratching up against the wild tufts of pink under Sukuna’s toned abs. Massaged up and down by his muscles - such an obvious show of strength for the king. 

He has you splayed out shamefully - with your legs hooked underneath two of his strong forearms, completely weightless. The other two interlocking on top of your head to have you swallowing every single one of his solid inches. Filthy. 

Sukuna smirks at the translucent rivulets of slick that gloss down his disappearing lengths, “Wh-what- ahem- what were you sayin’, woman? Sorry- ya got a little-” Pounding up even harder. “-loud.”

“I-I don’t-” you’re mewling out, wincing at the rough drag of his second - much larger - tongue craning across your forgotten clit. “-don’ remember, Kuna–”

Of course. 

“Don’t remember?” Sukuna seethes - deep baritone a few octaves higher than usual, words dripping with such utter mocking. “Now h-how will we get to twenty-eight if you can’t even ah- think, brat?”

Nevermind the fact that he couldn’t either. Couldn’t even breathe if he didn’t want to drag out rasping ahs! from his throat. So fucking stimulated that he feels his lips tremble, and can hear his other fucking mouth snicker. Snicker. 

“Tch- open that pretty mouth f’me.”

You barely have a second thought as you do - all so perfect for Sukuna to bless your tongue with a thick wad of his saliva. Honeyed and dripping down your throat.

You’re looking right into his devilishly red eyes as you swallow. “Wan’ more, Kuna–”

“More…” Sukuna breathes out. Small. Broken. More to himself than anything. And he can’t believe it - can’t even compute how the hell he ever got so lucky. Not before chuckling in such a dark and humorless way that makes your sopping pussy even more drenched. “More more more more- hah! I’ll give ya more- She wants more- ya hear that?”

Sukuna’s leering his sleazy gaze allll the way down to your headily dribbling cunt and talking. In utter disbelief - he’s seeing stars right behind his eyes with every raw rub your gripping walls onto his cocks, with every glissading massage against each other. It was such a tight fit. 

“Y-you’re so ngh- gone-” you’re bumbling out boldly. 

“So fuckin’ what-” he’s sneering. “H-honestly- fuckin- let that pretty cunt of yours speak, woman- she’s nicer.”

Syrupy wet slurps following with every crash of his wet tip against your sweet spots. Every languid lick down your presoaked slit, his mouth was everywhere now. Out of control. 

And like he was urging your pussy louder, whispering out a rasping c’mon c’mon c’mon every time he’s pummeling you like he hates you. Twenty eight? Twenty eight Sukuna’s ass, he was going to make your poor pussy cum hard enough for the entire month combined. 

So when you do - that’s exactly how you feel.

Your entire body thrashes in Sukuna’s unforgiving hold. Whining. White-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes, it just felt too good. In the thundering distance somewhere, you hear someone whimper - not you. Sukuna.

His mouth parting into a barely-lucid oh! when his rummaging cocks suddenly burst out in such honeyed trickles of cum. And Sukuna came a lot - he always did - but this was ridiculous. 

You could feel the hefty weight of his lengths double as he floods your bruised and battered insides with swirling swivels of cum. Sloshing around to stick to your inner walls like a second skin with every fuck up deeper and deeper-

“B-brat.” Sukuna whines. Whines. You don’t know what’s more shocking - that or the glassy tears collecting in his eyes. “Such a merciless queen you’d be…”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 31st Dec. 4:44AM

“Please-” And no one can ever say they’ve had the privilege of hearing the great Gojo Satoru beg before. No one can ever say they’ve known the feeling of his hot tears splat! splat! splat! against your shoulder like a slight drizzle. Whimpering, “-please we’re almost- almost there…”

He has you splayed out on your side on that decadent king-sized bed of his, massive palms sliding up and down your shaky thighs to perk them up for him to feed his cock right between them. Over and over and-

“I-I think I c-can feel it coming-” Gojo’s sputtering out, and at this point his rugged thrusts are barely even that. Slow, slurring grinds of his toned hips that make you squeal. “Think I can- ohhh fuck- I think m’gonna cum again, s-sweetheart.”

It’s just about all you can do to clear your shot throat, rasping out a whiny. “C-cum inside, Toru– wan’ it all oh-” 

And of course when Gojo cums, he’s not going to cum alone. Of course, when he’s nearing his dangerous peak - tipping over practically - he’s giving your plump clit a sudden thwack! with his fingertips. Long, and coated in buzzing cursed energy to make you see stars. 

“Heheh- yer cummin’ again–” he’s crooning in a feverish pitch into your ear. “Such a naughty cunt- h-how are you still creaming all over my hah- cock, darlin’?” Fucking giggling - oh, and for all Gojo’s big mouth he doesn’t even realize that he’s cumming too. 

Bolts of tiny blue lightning peaking at the corners of his eyes, fingertips flashing with the pressure of atoms - and you’re sure that if the bedroom lights hadn’t already shattered many, many orgasms ago then they would have right now.

It takes you a few seconds to regain the feeling in your legs - it takes Gojo a few seconds to realize that he’s cumming dry. Slowly swirling around his fat head in little swipes down your tenderized sweet spots, hips picking up the tempo more. And more. And more and more like he was furious - like he was fuming at the lack of sloshing wads of cum that stream into your gooey depths. 

Fuck.

“O-oh- you’ve broken me-” he’s whining, running those electrified hands up and down your body. Before finally resting on your hardened nipples and pinching. “-look what you’ve- shit- I can’t- I need to. Honey, I need it-”

Shit, he sounded so desperate.

And his movements were just as needy. Teleporting - yeah, not even pulling out for a mere millisecond, he couldn’t even stand the thought - to loom above your body. Flipping you onto your back, his biceps bulge at the fatigue when Gojo’s veering your legs to dangle around his neck.

“A mating press?” you mewl, the burn so merciless. 

But Gojo doesn’t answer- shit, can he even hear you right now? Only gruffing out a rough, “Lock your ankles.” 

You’ve barely even moved to do as your thoroughly pussydrunken husband had said before he’s plugging every spare inch into your cunt so full. Starting off with tiny, lazy gyrations before building up and up and-

“T-Toru–” you sputter out, syrupy voice so sweet that it makes Gojo kiss away your pout in a sodden drag of his rosy lip. And his eyes droop dangerously closed when your clingy walls clutch around him so tight. “Wh-what’s gotten into you- what has you like…”

This.

So feral.

Barely even human at this point.

After pathetically failing at No Nut November, the strongest was determined to complete this month’s challenge. Even it kills him.

Gojo was fucking you so hard into the bed that you’re noticing one side of it had utterly splintered and sagged. And a particularly hard mash of his swollen, red tip into your bouncy cervix makes him slam! one overwhelmed palm down beside your head. In your peripheral vision, you notice that your silky bedsheets had a palm print burnt into it.

“What h-has me like this?” he’s echoing your words like he’s just now heard them. “What has me like this- hahah! What else do you think…” Pressing down onto your inflationary bulge hard so that all voluminous dumps of his cum seeps right through your leaky slit. Gojo’s running a thumb down your teary cunt and plugging it right into your mouth. “Suck. Wh-what do you oh-”

You don’t even give him the sanity to finish his sentence, wrapping those pretty kiss-bitten lips of yours to give his thick thumb a thorough French kiss. You’re tasting him - tasting yourself. 

And the sight is enough for Gojo to let his head fall into your neck and cum. 

“This time-” Gojo’s rasping under his breath, muscular hips jamming into yours again. Fucking his furiously twitchy cock up into your forbidden areas. “This time.” And again. And again and again until the pale, sweat-slicked skin at his abs were rubbed red. “This time- this time- this time this time- fuck no–”

But it’s no use.

No matter how much Gojo’s ramming his weepy length down your snug walls, he was simply cumming dry. Keening at the familiar gloss of oozy cum that dredge their way down his coral pink shaft.

You brush away the drenched locks of snowy white from his pretty features - scrunched and on the verge of sobbing when you’re rutting your hips up tiredly to bounce against his. The mating press was so sloppy that it had your joints popping - ones that your husband immediately rubs over with reversed curse technique. Mumbling, “S’okay, Toru- you lasted this whole ah- month. You don’t need to-”

“-no no no but I need it.” he’s cutting you off. Swirling a few greedy fingers over your clit, “I need it- need it so bad b-because this Christmas…” Momentarily in awe at the way you were so sweetly holding him, so sweetly gulping up every one of his staggering inches. ”-I want a baby.”

Maybe you’re cumming - maybe Gojo is cumming. Maybe both.

You’re not even sure at this point, because despite being broken into a million different shards, the overhead lights flicker on and off. And what you feel is a wisping splatter of his seed drenching the very gooey bottom of yout cunt. Finally. 

Gojo’s orgasm coming out in waves up and down - your own nothing but a tight tingle. He’s dragging his cock to fuck out pearly beads of something delicious. More. More and more- “O-oh no…was that thirty one- hngh- were you keeping count, sweetheart?”

“...”

He has the audacity to grin - all pearly white teeth and glistening trail of drool on display. Big, fat tears rolling down his pretty eyes, “O-one more to make sure?”

A/N. I love making men cry.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but, Bruce gentle parenting the fuck out of the Justice League is literally such a funny concept. Like, the only reason it works so well is because of the overwhelming amount JL Daddy Issues; they’re all secretly desperate for some parental affection and Bruce is so naturally a Dad that he can’t help himself.

That gold star thing he used to do with Dick? Where he gave him a little star every time he kept himself safe during a patrol? Same thing works perfectly for Clark. He’s literally indestructible (but Bruce worries) so whenever he comes out unscathed from a battle (which is most of the time) he’ll hand Clark a little golden star sticker. Clark collects those things like they’re priceless artifacts and sticks them on his laptop.

The anger management therapy he did with Jason? Where he’d run through katas (a series of choreographed martial arts movements) whilst doing breathing exercises? Works like a charm on Diana and Dinah. They’re both super powered, so anything Bruce puts in front of her they’ll destroy, so going through a good old fashioned kata before a big mission will help them both focus without risking the destruction of the Watchtower.

The mindful meditation he did with Tim? When they’d sit in silence until Tim’s brain finally trained itself to know rest? It’s the perfect thing for Barry. He’s a speedster so his brain moves at about the same pace as Bruce and Tim’s (though maybe not quite as analytically); the post-mission meditation sessions are the perfect thing to help him calm down.

The art therapy he did with Damian? Where they’d paint memories that brought them pain/loneliness/loss/sadness because talking about it was too hard? Surprisingly, both John and Hal are into it. (Must be a Lantern thing.) Neither of them are great artists, but John paints about his time in the army and Hal about his time in the Air Force. They’ve both lost friends and comrades, have seen the worst of humanity up close, and just can’t always verbalize that feelingly of powerlessness even though their the galaxy’s greatest warriors—but they can paint it.

The silent chess games he’d play with Cassandra? Where’d they’d sit there and pick each others brains without having to say a word, could communicate an immense amount of emotion with the slide of a pawn? Great for Jon. He can’t talk into Bruce’s mind (not without considerable effort) and he can’t really talk to Bruce about everything that happened to him on Mars, but they can sit and play chess until they both have a mutual understanding of one another’s trauma.

All the crocheting he’s done with Steph? Where they’d sit in front of a fireplace in Wayne Manor and discuss their similarly complex relationships with their parents? Loved to do this with Arthur, of all people. They have to get waterproof Atlantean yarn, but the efforts worth the creations they make during Monitor duty, and it’s one of those rare time when Arthur can really vent about all of his troubles leading a life above and below sea, being a king, his love life—anything. Bruce will always listen.

And then, all of the soccer that he’s played with Duke? Where they’d let loose and just be competitive? Cyborg similarly appreciates this, but prefers football, naturally. Now, Bruce is too old to tackle a Mother-Box-Enhanced human, but that doesn’t stop him from covertly setting up pick-up football games on the front lawn of the Hall of Justice every other week.

So yeah. Bruce and his gentle parenting.

[luna-azzurra]

How to Write a Death Scene

So, you want to write a death scene that hits your readers hard, right? Something that sticks with them, makes them feel something real?

First, give the death meaning. You can’t just toss in a death for the shock factor and call it a day. Even if it’s sudden or unexpected, the death has to matter to the story. Think about how it changes things for the characters who survive. Does it mess with their relationships? Their goals? Make sure this moment sends ripples through the rest of your plot. It’s gotta affect everything that happens after, like an emotional earthquake.

Then, think about timing. You don’t want to drop a death scene at the wrong moment and ruin the vibe. If it’s part of a big heroic moment or a heartbreaking loss in the middle of the story, it should feel earned. The timing of the death decides how your readers will react, whether they feel relief, gut-wrenching sorrow, or are totally blindsided. The right moment makes all the difference.

Next up, focus on the characters’ emotions. Here’s the thing, it's not always the actual death that makes a reader cry, it's how everyone feels about it. How do the characters react? Is the person dying scared, or are they at peace? Are the people around them in shock, angry, or just completely destroyed? You need to dive deep into these emotions, because that’s where your reader connects.

Make sure to use sensory details to pull readers into the scene. What does it feel like? The sound of their breathing, the stillness when they’re gone, the way everything feels heavy and wrong. Little details make the death feel real and personal, like the reader is right there with the characters, feeling the weight of the moment.

If your character has the chance, give them some final words or actions. What they say or do in those last seconds can really hit hard. Maybe they share a piece of advice, ask for forgiveness, or try to comfort the people around them. Even a simple gesture, a smile, a touch, a last look can leave a lasting impression. This is your last chance to show who this character was, so make it count.

Finally, don’t just stop when the character dies. The aftermath is just as important. How do the survivors deal with it? Does your main character fall apart, or do they find a new sense of purpose? Are there regrets? Peace? Whatever happens next should be shaped by the death, like a shadow that never quite goes away. Let your characters carry that weight as they move forward.

[amaranthinespirit]

boyfriend!simon riley who's very attentive to everything about you

simon knows you like the back of his hand; he can tell whenever something's changed about you, down to the smallest of things.

he can see the difference when you get your hair done. even if you only got a couple inches of dead ends off, he'll run his calloused fingertips through the silky strands and comment about how good it looks on you.

you always smell so good, though after an extended period of time, he becomes nose blind to the way you smell. when you get a new perfume, it's like he's lost all sense of himself, dumb and mindless as he follows you like a lost dog through the house.

"smell s'good, luvie," he'll hover over your shoulder as he indulges in the sweet scent that wafts from your skin, sticking his nose where the perfume concentrates on your neck.

he's made a note of everything you've got in your closet, the way you cycle through your clothes. so, naturally, he notices when you get a new article of clothing or a pair of shoes, and not because of the tiniest dent in his wallet that it makes. his eyebrows perk up at the sight of a new top, his eyes having a more lively look behind them. the way his rough hands paw at your hips to pull you closer, rubbing the fabric of the new cloth between his fingertips.

"s'pretty, jus' f'me, hm?" he'll mumble gruffly while his hands tease around the hem of the material.

when you get your period, and the way your face contorts with discomfort. his big hands you grasp at to use as a personal heating pad. he huffs out a chuckle, but nonetheless lays with you while you use him for his body heat.

when your mood is off and the way your thighs clench together with every word that falls from his lips, no matter the insinuation. just the fact that his deep, gruff voice whispers in your ear, the warmth of his breath kissing your skin, makes your pussy throb and thigh press harder to relieve the pressure. suddenly, you're hyper-aware of the way your panties seem to rub against your desperate cunt. the cotton across your clit makes you shiver next to him on the couch.

when your eyes are hazed over as he fucks his fat, lengthy dick into your tight pussy, grunts falling from his lips as you clench around him. the sound of flesh slapping is filthy and lewd, the squelch of your sopping cunt whenever he drives his cock back into your hole. his bulbous tip kisses your cervix every time his hips piston into yours. the backs of your thighs are turned red, arousal dripping down them as it pools onto the couch cushions beneath you.

he holds your knees together with a single, large hand, the other reaching down to toy with your clit. his ears prick, becoming more sensitive to the way your little mewls and gasps are strained, quieter as if stuck in your throat.

when you're about to come, the heat in your tummy building and building as his fingers continue to paw at your clit furiously. he's mumbling strings of phrases, praise, and more encouragement that doesn't reach your ears as they begin to ring. his cock is painted white, a creamy ring nearly to the base of his cock and more painted down your thighs and sticking to his hips whenever he slowly drives his hips forward.

"jus' needed t'go dumb on m'cock, hm?"

[snowballseal]

Pretty Bird

Sylus X Reader

Summary: Sylus is jealous of you giving Mephisto attention. That's it. You tease him when you find out.

Word Count: 2123

Note: Nothing really, hope I did him justice! His dialogue is a little harder for me to nail down.

---

The first time it happens is when you cross to the N109 Zone to accompany Sylus on an “errand”.

The first thing you do when you reach the ornate, empty house - of course - is say hello to your favorite bird.

“Hey there pretty bird.”

Mephisto squawks, bobbing excitedly on his perch as you bound up to him. You grin and give the crow a gentle scratch on his head. He preens under your touch, mechanical feathers fluffing with another quiet, scruffy caw. Adorable.

Despite his unnerving gaze, which you find to be eerily similar to a certain Onychinus leader, you can’t help but love the little bird. For some reason, it always comforts you a little bit to see him perched outside your apartment, or following you around Linkon. He always tries to act like he’s not spying on you, but you know he is, and you know he’s going to report right back to Sylus. Maybe that’s why it’s comforting.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to sway his loyalties.”

Speak of the devil.

“As if,” you snicker, giving the bird one final scratch before spinning on your heels to face Sylus. He sits across the room in one of his big armchairs, eyes glued to the gun he’s loading, face carefully blank. As always. You saunter over and pop yourself onto the arm of the chair, bumping his shoulder. “You know Mephisto doesn’t listen to anyone but you. I’m just like the fun mom who gives him things.”

His lips twitch ever so slightly, “Mmm, does that make me your husband in this situation?”

Heat creeps up your cheeks.

You are no stranger to Sylus’ flirty nature. That’s how things have always been between you, though it only really gets to you now. Before, when you kind of hated his guts, it was just annoying. Well, maybe even then-

“You wish,” you retort, but there’s no hiding the blush painting your cheeks.

“Hm, I thought you knew me better than that, sweetie.” In an instant, his hand curls around your wrist, giving it a sharp tug that knocks you off balance. You let out an undignified squeak, tumbling right into his lap. And before you can squirm away, Sylus locks an arm over your legs, keeping you trapped against him. Those red eyes freeze you in place, dark and warm with mischief. “Why would I wish for something I could so easily take?”

You stare at him, eyes blown wide, face completely red now. You can’t even form any words in response, which seems to amuse him even more. A smirk curls his lips, and he gives your hip a playful pinch.

“What? Crow got your tongue, sweetie?”

You sputter, finally finding your voice, “Sylus!”

“Good. Now that you’re focused, we can go handle business.” Sylus sets you on the ground, making sure you’re steady before he stands nonchalantly and tucks his gun in its holster. Like nothing just happened! “We don’t want to be late now, do we?”

Before you can even say anything more, he’s heading for the door. It takes a few seconds to shake yourself from your  state of shock, and then you’re quickly following after him.

“Sylus-!”

He cuts you off, that stupid, attractive smirk still on his lips, “And by the way, try not to spoil Mephisto too much, sweetie. He’s grown rather petulant when you’re not around.”

You’re pretty sure your blush sticks around for the entire car ride after.

---

The second time is when you visit on one of your off days. 

When you get there, Sylus is still asleep. You take a moment to crouch by his bed, a fond smile adorning your lips as you take in his peaceful face. You remember when he used to sleep sitting up, so he was ready for anything, but now he looks relaxed. Though you still spot the gun tucked under his bed.

Deciding not to bother him, you quietly make your way back out to the living room and grab a book. It’s about the only way to pass time in the N109 Zone, at least, without getting yourself into anything dangerous. As soon as you sit down, Mephisto flaps across the room and lands on your arm, plopping himself down into your lap like a cat.

A giggle escapes you when the crow throws his head back, looking up at the most awkward angle you can imagine. You give his beak a little rub, and he makes a soft clicking sound, beady red eyes falling shut.

“I swear, it’s almost like you’re a crow with cat programming,” you hum, mostly to yourself. Mephisto ruffles his feathers, though, at the word ‘cat’, eyes flashing back open. You snort, easing a hand over his wings, “No worries, pretty bird, no cats. I’m just kidding.”

He settles back down, seemingly embarrassed by his reaction, which only makes you want to coddle him more. So cute. If only Sylus would be this cute with you. Heat tinges your cheeks at the thought of the tall man resting against your lap, looking up at you with softly narrowed eyes, humming in content as you pet his ha-

Snapping your book open, you throw yourself into the story in hopes of banishing such rogue thoughts. If Sylus knew what you were imagining, he would tease you for years. You really don’t want to feed his ego even more. Mephisto wedges himself between your arm and your side, happy to just fall asleep as you read, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

It doesn’t take you long to actually get immersed in the storyline, though. So much so that you don’t hear the steps coming up behind you.

“It seems you come here more often to spend time with Mephisto than with me.”

You practically jump out of your skin when a strong arm circles your shoulders. Sylus’ voice is a low rumble in your ear, thick with sleep. He leans over the back of your chair, and you narrowly miss the way he eyes the bird in your lap with distaste. He looks far too content curled up on your lap.

“I didn’t want to bother you while you were sleeping,” you hum, closing the book.

He grumbles, sleepy eyes shifting to bore into you. The smallest pout pulls at his lips, and you have to stifle a giggle as you reach up to smooth down his messy hair. Sylus leans into your touch, much like Mephisto did, his eyes flickering shut. Okay, maybe he is just as cute.

“Are you mad I didn’t come cuddle with you?” You tease. Sleepy Sylus is definitely your favorite Sylus. “I didn’t know the big, bad Onychinus leader likes to snuggle.”

“It’s simply to ensure you don’t cause trouble in the N109 Zone,” he murmurs, still just as quick-witted though he’s half-asleep, “I can’t have my kitten wandering around all by herself, now can I?”

“I was just reading, Sylus. No trouble here.”

“Hmm, then you might as well come read in bed.”

You hesitate, fingers tracing along his jaw lightly, “You sure I won’t disturb your sleep?”

Those dark eyes blink back open lazily, a rare, genuine smile dancing in their depths, “Trust me, kitten, my sleep will be much better with you at my side.”

God, you’re weak for this man. Mephisto squawks his complaints as you lift him from your lap, but takes off to his perch without much fight. Sylus feels a flash of victory as you intertwine your fingers. The sensation of your small hand in his eases the strange tightness in his chest whenever you’re apart. He curls his other arm around you possessively, sending the bird a smug smirk.

You catch it this time, lifting a brow as you glance between him and Mephisto. Your brain stalls. Was he…jealous? No way. There’s no way Sylus would be jealous of you spending time with his bird. He’s more mature than that…or maybe not, you realize as he drags you back to his bed, only to lay himself over you like a large cat, using your lap as his pillow. Exactly as you imagined.

Your heart flutters a little, which you’re sure he hears somehow, because he squeezes your waist teasingly. You pinch his cheek lightly before running your fingers through his snowy hair. It’s always softer than you expect.

“Go to sleep, Sylus,” you murmur, voice far too fond, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He hums, and you can feel the sound vibrate through his body. Almost like a purr.

God, you don’t even have a chance, do you?

---

The final time is when you visit the N109 Zone to attend another auction with Sylus. And this time, you catch him in it.

“Where’s Mephisto?”

Sylus’ face sours at your question. You bite back a smile.

Ever since the day you spent napping in his room, you haven’t been able to escape that thought swirling in the back of your mind. So you decided to test your theory. Sylus is always messing with you, afterall. It’s only fair you get a bit of revenge.

“I sent him out to gather intel,” Sylus huffs eventually. Why do you always look for that d***  bird first? “That is his purpose, afterall.”

“Oh.” You feign sadness, letting out a long sigh. “That’s too bad! I brought him some treats.”

“Well, you can leave them here. I’m sure he’ll eat them later,” he says, voice dismissive as he fixes the cuffs of his coat.

“Hmm-” You slowly make your way over to him. Those perceptive eyes narrow on you, watching you carefully while you straighten his collar. “Will he be here later? Maybe I can give them to him after the auction. I miss my pretty bird.” 

Amusement curls in your chest when you see the man’s brows twitch ever so slightly. He’s really annoyed. Now you understand why he loves pushing your buttons so much.

“No, I’m afraid he’ll be busy all night.” You can practically hear him gritting his teeth. Almost there. You keep your eyes focused on his coat, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. He’s trying to figure you out and you’re scared that if you look up, the laughter you're holding back will break loose. Instead, you put on an exaggerated pout.

“That’s unfortunate. I was really hoping to see him tonight.”

Sylus growls. Actually growls in annoyance.

“Would you prefer to have Mephisto on your arm tonight instead of me?” His words come out biting and harsh, tinged with unmistakable jealousy.

The air goes silent.

Before you burst into a fit of giggles. Sylus’ eyes widen when you collapse against his chest, your entire body shaking with laughter. He freezes, though his confusion quickly gives way to realization. 

You were playing with him.

“I suppose this is some form of revenge,” he hums, shaking his head. It’s surprising it took him so long to catch on. With anyone else, he’d be beyond angry, but your laughter is so bright, so infectious, that he can’t stop the small smile that pulls at his lips. When you finally look up at him, tears glint in the corners of your eyes. Who thought this would amuse you so much?

“You’re jealous! The Sylus is jealous of a little bird. His bird.” You bite down on your lip in an attempt to muffle the giggles that keep coming, but it doesn’t do much to help. It’s just too much for you. You never ever thought you’d see Sylus actually jealous of someone, let alone an animal.

Sylus narrows his eyes, though they glow with a certain fondness. “Such a sadist, sweetie, messing with a man’s heart so lightly.”

“Oh, but your reaction was so adorable,” you sing, reaching up to poke his cheek. He playfully bites at your finger, making you draw it back quickly with another laugh. “Just the fact that you could even think I like Mephisto more than you is so silly. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Hmm, then I’m afraid you’ll just have to prove my silly conclusion wrong, won’t you?” His hands settle on your waist, drawing you closer to the warmth of his body. You oblige him, stretching your arms up and around his neck to draw him down.

“Of course. I can’t have my pretty bird walking around thinking he’s second best,” you tease, fingers curling through his hair. “Even if he has a jealousy prob-”

“Quiet.”

Anything else you say is muffled as Sylus finally kisses you.

Safe to say, after that, you make sure to give Sylus extra attention, especially when Mephisto is around. (Though you do still sneak him treats when Sylus isn’t looking.)

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Handsy Vika

Sevika x Female Reader.

Your girlfriend loves your chest.

(Head Cannons || Smut + Fluff)

MEN DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT!!!

Cw: Nipple play. Reader doesn’t have a specific chest size, but do they bounce?? idk if thats like.. IDK. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Not Proofread || Note: HAPPY NEW YEARS AAYYY!!! 🥳

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Sevika’s more of the handsy type.

She likes having her grip on things. Whether it’s holding your hand, tapping your ass, wrapping an arm around your waist or even your hips, she likes having you in her grasp— she likes the silent marking of her territory. Letting everyone know you’re hers and only hers.

One thing, however, that gets her attention more than anything else is your chest. She likes how plump your breasts look, how they’re just screaming for her to touch; for her hands.

She doesn’t have a specific type in how big her girlfriend’s boobs should be. But, as they say, the more the merrier.

She enjoys the view of your cleavage. She could stare at it for hours, really. The sight of you in a low cut top makes her hands itch for a poke, a squeeze even.

Even sitting in her lap at The Last Drop she has to hold back the urge to get a brush of a touch. It’s like there’s this invisible force pulling her hand to your chest.

One thing she’ll never admit is that she actually enjoys watching you walk around. She gets lewd thoughts just watching your breasts slightly bounce up and down.

We all know Sevika’s pretty damn protective, but it’s heightened whenever she sees someone’s eyes lingering a millisecond too long on the exposed skin of your chest. She knows you’re pretty, and pretty things attract attention, but that doesn’t mean she likes it. You’re her pretty thing, not some lost diamond waiting to be claimed.

What about when no one else is around? When it’s just the two of you in your shared apartment? When she can do whatever she wants to you?

Watching you walk around with your tight tank top turns her on. More than you’d ever expect.

It’s the way you’re so casually making your way towards the kitchen for a cup of water that gets her heart rate spiling. It’s the way your damn breasts look, all round and soft, that gets her mouth watering.

After trying her best to hold back, your girlfriend will call you over, feigning loneliness and luring you into her lap. And, undoubtedly, you never say no. Not even when her finger runs up and down your stomach, inching closer to your bra. How could you say no to pleasure?

She’ll sweet talk in your ear, whispering dirty little words about your breasts all the while cupping them under your shirt.

“My baby has really soft tits.” Yes, she calls them tits. “You’re harder than before, y’like this?” She’s referring to your hardened nipples. “What if I just?..” and she’ll give you a pinch and a hard pull.

Sometimes what turns her on further is pulling your shirt over your chest, not taking it off but only moving it. Sevika doesn’t understand why she thinks it’s so much more hotter, but all she knows is that she enjoys it.

Kissing your neck with her dark lips while twisting your nipples inbetween her fingers is one way to start it off. She’ll occasionally give them soft squeezes, pushing them together and, as embarrassing as it is for you, poke them and watch them recoil.

All you can do is shiver and moan. The cool metal of her mech hand always makes it harder to focus, especially when she slides it down, under your shorts, and presses it against your clit. It’s a sensation you can’t get enough of, can’t really describe. There’s no real motion, no friction, just a cold touch that makes you squirm.

(No, she won’t stick her mech fingers up your hoo-haa. She’s too scared it’ll scratch you. What if it malfunctions? She’d rather use her flesh fingers.)

Switching spots with her mech hand, she’ll rub against your pulsing clit. She likes feeling your hips shudder in her lap, the way your thighs close and push her fingers harder against you. She has no shame in what it does to her.

Her silver eyes never leave your form. She’ll stare at how her mech fingers are able to dig into your breast, how her flesh hand looks under your shorts, giving them a buldge, how you bite your lip in pure enjoyment, and even how your jaw drops afterwards. Sevika’s in love with your reactions.

Other than using her hands, Sevika likes tasting them aswell. In a comfortable position, she could gobble you up. Nipple in her mouth, she rubs her tongue against the tip. She’ll even, occasionally, give you a gentle bite, a suck and a pull.

She likes keeping eye contact while she does this, because, again, she loves seeing your face as she’s making you feel good. Knowing full well your cunt’s throbbing for more, yelling for contact, she won’t give it to you that quickly.

Alright, now.. what about Sevika when she’s not in the mood for sex? When all she needs is comfort?

After a long day of fixing up after someone’s bullshit, all your girlfriend needs is you.

She’ll come home late and immediately drag herself to the bedroom, laying her eyes on your half-asleep figure. It makes her sleepier.

And you, being the amazing girlfriend you are, always opening your arms for her muscular body to melt into.

She’ll rest her head on your natural cushions, arms lazily draped beside you on the bed as she deeply sighs in relief. Her back pain’s gone (she’s just distracted), her headache lessened, and she’s feeling so, so, so much better.

You’ll press heavenly kisses on her head, fingers playing with her dark hair all the while massaging her scalp. You know full well how to get her relaxed.

Earlier, the mention of your breasts feeling like stress balls— Yeah.. she’ll flip on her side and let her flesh hand give your chest a few, lazy squeezes. Your girlfriend’s too exhausted to care and she’ll continue until she’s snoring in your arms.

[ryker-writes]

Well, here we are! After my head cannons about giving them a rock, and it might be some way to propose to fae, I’m here to deliver!

Request rules and Masterlists

Accidentally proposing by giving him a rock (Malleus)

Being friends with fae is confusing sometimes. Of course, they’re great! But their culture is new to you, and you’re trying to learn. Of course there’s bound to be misunderstandings and mistakes every so often! It’s part of the learning process.

Well, this is probably the biggest misunderstanding that could’ve possibly happened.

You’d simply wanted to give Malleus a gift to help express how much you care about him. So when you found this nice smooth black rock with specks of gray and green, you thought it was perfect for him. Who doesn’t love rocks anyway? From what you’ve learned about fae, they’re very in tune and connected to nature. So surely Malleus would appreciate the rock!

So when you see him next, you told him had a gift for him. But when you held the rock out to him, he was…stunned to say the least. The ever so calm Malleus Draconia had wide eyes when he saw it, and he’d gone completely stiff and silent. In hindsight, that definitely should’ve told you something was wrong. But at the time, you naively thought he was just stunned you gave him a gift. You were well aware he hasn’t gotten to experience friendships like the average person first most of his life. So it made sense why he’d be surprised when you gave him a gift. He’s not used to receiving gifts.

“Child of man…do you truly mean this?”

You’d smiled at him, and nodded, “Of course. I wanted to give you something to show I care and how much I appreciate you. This rock reminded me of you with the spots of green on the black.”

Just like that, the biggest smile grew on his face. One of his hands moved and gently held onto the bottom of your own hand that held out the rock, and the other carefully picked it up. He held the stone close to his chest, and looked down at you with such softness.

“Words cannot properly express how grateful I am to receive such a gift from you. I am delighted to accept this treasure. Rest assured, I will keep it safe and make the proper preparations for everything.”

It was hard to question what he meant when he said he’d make preparations when he looked so happy and held onto the rock like it’s sacred. He probably meant that he’d set something up to protect the rock, like a place for it to sit on display or something. Yeah, that seems like something he’d do.

You thought it was odd when Sebek was at the door to Ramshackle the next morning. He seemed rather upset, and he woke Grim up with his shouting, but he insisted that it was his duty to stick around. In your freshly woken up state, you didn’t quite process everything he’d said. Something about the audacity of humans, how Malleus is so humble and kind, and that regardless he would fulfill his duty to Malleus at all costs. But all that was pretty normal talk for Sebek.

It was a lot easier to let Sebek just escort you to your first class than to try and argue about being able to get there on your own. It was a lot quieter after he left to go to his own classes. Grim actually fell asleep during class, claiming that he woke up too early from Sebek’s yelling.

Around lunch time, Lilia had stopped by your table (Scaring Ace in the process). He’d greeted you with a big smile, and arms outstretched.

“Congratulations! Young people sure do move fast. But I’m glad to see Malleus so happy. He told us all about it when he came back to Diasomnia yesterday. It seems Briar Valley’s future is looking rather interesting, and more accepting of humans.”

Okay, now you were very confused, and so was everyone else. Unfortunately, when Ace asked what was going on, Lilia just laughed.

“Ah, it is hard to keep up with younger folks sometimes. Anyway, I will be off. Much to do, things to help arrange.”

He disappeared before anyone could get another word in.

It’s safe to say you were now thoroughly confused. All you did was give Malleus a rock, and now you have Sebek acting like he had to escort you places, and Lilia congratulating you? Was the rock some magical item? It wouldn’t be the first time you accidentally came across something magical. Maybe it was Malleus just being protective? He did have a habit of going over the top a bit to protect those he cares about.

Either way, the only way to know what was really going on would be to ask Malleus himself. So after classes were over, you and Grim made your way over to Diasomnia to find Malleus.

You’d never seen Diasomnia so…scattered. Several students were moving around quickly, some even avoiding eye contact or going still as you walked past them. And sitting in the lounge was the dragon prince himself, Malleus, with a big smile on his face as he spoke with Lilia.

As soon as Malleus saw you approaching, his smile grew again, and he looked at you with such joy and affection.

“Ah, Child of man, how lovely it is for you to visit. Everything is going smoothly.”

You blinked up at him in confusion, “What’s going smoothly?”

At that, he seemed surprised for a moment before answering, “The preparations for our marriage of course.”

…

What.

Grim practically squeaked beside you at the revelation and began shouting, “Marriage?! Who said you could marry my hench-human? You didn’t even ask for permission to propose to my minion!”

Malleus laughed softly, “There was no need for me to seek your approval. Child of man proposed to me themself. It was quite the honor.”

The small direbeast looked quickly between you and Malleus in shock, and slight offense that you didn’t tell him. Malleus wasn’t a mage he wanted to provoke, but you were his hench-human! How could you propose to him without even consulting or telling him first?!

In the pause, Malleus continued, “I have taken great lengths to ensure the precious stone is safe. It is a symbol of our engagement, and will be a fine piece at our ceremony. Grandmother has already received word, and will be welcoming you to Briar Valley by my side.”

Oh great seven. The Queen of Briar Valley knows you somehow proposed to the Prince by giving him…a rock?? This must be some part of fae culture you’d yet to learn about. Courtship wasn’t exactly a priority when learning about their culture, so you hadn’t gotten there yet.

Snapping out of your shocked daze, you had to ask, “We’re…engaged??”

Malleus nodded, “Of course. Was that not the purpose of your gift of stone?”

Part of you wanted to clarify that proposing was very much not the intention, but he looked so happy and Lilia was giving you a look beside him. Malleus even told his grandma, made Sebek escort you this morning, and now all of Diasomnia is treating you like some sort of royalty. He was so excited about it. How could you tell him that you weren’t proposing when he was so excited? That might break his heart.

Unsure of what to say, you stayed silent for a moment. Lilia, ever the protector of Malleus’ feelings, laughed lightly, “Ah young love. Proposing and yet being so flustered about it. It’s relieving to see the future rulers of Briar Valley being oh so in love. Humans and fae coming together after so long.”

Malleus smiled again, and stepped by your side, “I am honored to be your chosen partner. Now, we must set up a time for you to meet Grandmother before the wedding.”

Oh yeah, you’re done for.

[calebsdraft]

warnings : stepcest, possessive caleb, pussy inspection (again), fingering, bimbo/dumb!reader, manipulative caleb?? idk, use of pipsqueak, angel, gege, caleb refers to your pussy as your princess, he also tells you inaccurate things about your pussy, caleb brings up that y’all guys are step-sibilings, like a lot :(

౨ৎ au : 𝓼tepbrother!caleb x 𝓫imbo/dumb!reader ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

𝒴ou nervously knocked on your step-brothers door. it was late, but you needed caleb’s help. something happened—you woke up to your panties all damp and sticky; not to mention the annoying ache between your legs. you knew that caleb would help you, like usual. before you could knock again, he opened the door and you were welcomed with the sight of him without a shirt, grey sweatpants low on his hips.

again, you felt the ache between your legs get stronger and you pouted. “pipsqueak? what are you doing up this late?” he asked you, lifting an eyebrow. suddenly, you felt nervous. when you thought about it, it sounded silly now. you could’ve just asked a friend or looked it up. you made a small little uh, glancing down and rubbing your thighs together.

you heard a sigh from caleb before he tilted your head up with two fingers, making you look up at him. “angel, what’s the matter?” you let out a whine and bit your lip. with one hand, you pointed to the spot in between your thighs as they rubbed together. it did little to help the weird feeling, but at least it helped.

caleb looked down at you and a small little smirk formed on his soft lips. “sorry, what? i don’t understand. ‘need words,” he said and you knew he was teasing. you whimpered and rubbed your thighs again. “caleb…” you tried looking down again but he just pulled you closer, making you hit his chest. “i need words.”

“i-its—achy. i don’t know why, but—but i woke up and they were all wet,” you whispered, looking down nervously as you did. all caleb did was hum and pull you inside his room. he shut the door behind you and locked it, making you look up at him curiously. “i think i know what’s the problem. here, lay down on the bed for me.” you didn’t know why you had to, but you did it anyway. after all, caleb was much smarter and older than you. he must have a good reason!

you did as he told and lay down on his bed carefully. he watched as you did, standing in front of you. “good girl. now, can you lift your hips up for me?” you felt yourself pulse down there at the sound of his voice and you felt your panties sticking to you, making you whine. you did as he said, lifting your hips. to your surprise, he grabbed the hem of your silk pajama pants and slid them down to your ankles.

“mm—caleb?” you asked and lifted your head up to look at the larger man. he hushed you and his hands ran up your legs to your thighs, squeezing the fat gently. “you want me to help you out, right? this is what all big brothers do.” you hummed and nodded, plopping your head back down on the bed. if caleb said that this was normal, then it was. why would he lie to you? his hands left you and suddenly your panties were getting pulled off, revealing your wet folds. “ah, you really are wet, pipsqueak.” you lifted your head up a bit and saw him on his knees inside your legs.

you watched as he shamelessly put the wet spot against his nose and breathed in deeply, letting out a low groan. the sound made you let out a soft whimper, feeling you clench. “gege… the ache…” you whined and he hushed you again. “i know. do you know what that ache is, angel?” he placed your panties beside him and his large hands came back to your thighs, massaging them. you shook your head at his words, blushing. he hummed in understanding. “well, you feel this achy feeling whenever your pretty princess down here wants your gege. she gets all wet and it’s like it has own heartbeat, y’know? when that happens, you go and immediately tell me. i’ll make it feel better.”

you listened to his words carefully, your lips spreading apart a bit. you nodded. “will you help me right now?” you asked, your voice small. caleb gave you a comforting smile and nodded. “jus’ gotta see what she needs.” with that, he grabbed your knees and put your feet on top of the bed, making you spread your legs. he got as close as he could to your princess and he spread your lips with his fingers. you shivered when the cold air hit you but you didn’t stop him. after all, he was just checking what your princess needs.

he hummed as he inspected your pussy, a slim finger coming to run down your wet slit, making your hips jolt. “god, she’s so wet. were you thinking about your step-brother, pipsqueak?” he murmured and you bit your lip. you did have a dream about him—but all you were doing to him was what you do to your pillows! nothing bad. when you told him that, he looked up at you with a smirk.

his thumb came to your clit, rubbing and circling it and you gasped at the pleasurable sensation, hands coming to his hair. “and what do you do to your pillows?” he asked and a finger came to run over one of your folds. “i-i just rub against them.” that wasn’t bad, right? no, of course not.

much to your demise, caleb tsks his tongue. “dirty girl. rubbing against your pillows? i bet your princess was achy then, huh? i forgive you, though, angel. you didn’t know,” he said and you let out a sigh of relief. that sigh turned into a choked moan when caleb’s finger ran down your slit again, gathering your wetness before he circled your hole.

“this is where your gege’s fingers go. they enter this tight little hole and your princess will stop aching then, okay? it’s only pleasurable if your big brother does it, no one else though, okay?” he told you and you nodded, eyes fluttering shut. he pushed the tip of his finger in and you let out a mewl, tugging at the soft strands of his hair. it was a strange feeling, but you didn’t want to disobey caleb and tell him to stop.

he slowly pushes it in bit by bit, stretching you out. you gasped at the feeling, your walls fluttering around it. thankfully with how wet you were, it was easy for him to push his fingers into you until he was knuckles deep. you let out a moan when he began to move, thrusting in and out. you had never actually touched yourself, only rubbing or bouncing on a pillow—but this was much better. you felt another finger nudge next to it and soon he was pumping three fingers into you.

all you could do was let out moans and whines, your head splaying around on your silk pillow. your legs twitched and caleb gently hugged you, mentally thanking that your parents weren’t there. “good girl, let it all out. moan for your gege, hm?” he murmured and your hips bucked at his words.

the lewd sounds of your squelching wetness filled the room and you felt small tears form in the corner of your eyes. the more and more his large fingers massage that spongy inside of you the more you felt your gut clench. you were starting to feel a weird, strong coil in your gut and you let out a whimper. “gege! it feels weird—stop, stop!” you sniffed, hands coming to try to push his fingers away. the feeling was too much, too overwhelming—too new.

he tsked and slapped your hand away, making you let out a small sob and you felt his hand press on your stomach gently. “go on, cum for me, angel. come on my fingers,” he snickered and your jaw dropped when you felt the coil finally snapped. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you saw bright stars as you gushed all over his fingers. your walls fluttered around him as you came, your small body squirming.

“good girl, atta girl,” he praised you. you were left panting, sniffling as your cheek lied on top of your pillow dumbly. his fingers entered his mouth and he let out a groan at the taste of you, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the divine taste. once he sucked your cum all off, he gently picked you up. “alright. your gege’s gonna take care of you now, hm? just go to bed, pipsqueak.”

you let out a stupid, blissed out hum, head resting against his shoulder and you knew that your gege would always help you. no matter what ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა