#and maybe i can express it better now but the fact that i said it at all means something

[cowboybrunch]

had a fun talk with my roommate about how art that comes from a place of sincerity is meaningful and important and "good" even if it's not technically pristine or profound. which is not a new idea but is def reassuring. if you're putting your whole self into what you create, it's gonna be good even if it's not "good"

he's not a writer but he is a reader and his main gripe was feeling like books getting overedited to be more marketable means he's not reading the story that was meant to be told. sure it might be "cleaner" and more palatable to a wider audience but how much can you water down authenticity before it just becomes water, u feel me?

what im trying to say is, tell the story you wanna tell. not new advice but still good advice

[lordofdestructionm]

Did anyone else feel like Jax was trying to reach out more to the others in this episode?

Before Gangle freaks him out a little with the threat of a punishment he is his usual jerk self

Then he tries to have a very casual and relaxed conversation with Zooble about the situation. No sarcasm and no mean comments.

He tries to downplay the earlier threat, and seems to want them to agree with him that Caine wouldn't actually do anything that bad

Of course Zooble out of everyone in the group has the least patience for Jax so he doesn't get any reassurance from them

Then just before Gangle send him off for his employee training/Clockwork orange torture session, he responds to Gangle's manic behaviour with the comment "I like you better when your sad"

That could just be him being mean and saying that he likes it better when she's like that because its easier to pick on her and stops her standing up to him

But considering he always goes out of his way to break the Comedy Mask at every opportunity, it could be that he simply prefers when she is her authentic self, and not putting on some fake act (a lesson gangle herself seems to learn at the end when she rips off the new mask and smiles despite wearing the Tragedy mask)

Plus look at his face when he's saying it. He isn't grinning or making any other mocking expression, he just looks tired

Then when has encounters drunk Ragatha he asks her if she can move, despite the fact that he could easily walk over her with those long legs, and he does exactly that a moment later. Was he being polite? Or was he asking her literally if she could still move her body in the state she was in?

Either way he get another little blow when the nicest person in the group says outright she hates him

Then he tries to do with Pomni what he attempted with Zooble earlier, have a relaxed casual conversation about things without any signs of sarcasm of mean teasing.

Pomni herself is even taken aback and doesn't know what to make of it, suspecting probably that he is trying to trick her in some way. Again Jax's previous mean behaviour is now a barrier stopping him from connecting with the others even when he actually wants to

He makes one last effort to pretend everything is normal and get back to his usual persona, but the second he is out the door and out of sight of everyone, the frustration and despair are clear

When Gooseworx said that people who want to see Jax "get worse" will "enjoy what they have planned", maybe they didn't mean he would get more evil, maybe they meant his mental health would start sinking as the bully/prankster persona he hides behind starts to break down

Maybe he is starting to realize how isolated he is making himself

[valentinedrifter]

Days with Somi: Expression

male reader x Jeon Somi

~13.9k words

A/N: I apologize if the plot (there's plot?) doesn't make sense because all the recent Somi pics got me dented in the head.

Thanks to @suchsweetstories for the beta read!

Enjoy.

Jeon Somi loves having sex. 

Specifically, having sex with you.

You call it her ‘love language’. Her way to shower you with affection. Which you have to admit, for someone like Somi, checks off all of the boxes.

Receiving Gifts? Being able to fuck her on the daily is a gift itself. Especially when she offers up anal.

Physical Touch? You can spank her ass and grope her tits and she’d tell you to do it again. She even encourages you to do it as much as you want.

Quality Time? She’d fuck you anywhere if she gets in the mood. Your apartment, her apartment, the fast food restaurant’s bathroom, your car in a public parking lot. The post-sex cuddles you have with her are amazing too.

Words of Affirmation? Her screams of, quote: “Fuck, yes, more–” are enough to push you to go harder. She’s also expressing her appreciation of how good you’re pounding her pussy.

Acts of Service? Either she wakes you up with a blowjob or you wake her up by eating her out. It usually ends with one–sometimes both–of you being late to work. It’s one hell of an alarm clock though.

Sex has become a pivotal portion of your life ever since you started seeing her for a couple of months now. And it’s not like you’d ever say no to doing it with Somi. You made that mistake once, and while it was…an experience, you’d rather not have to call in sick because she fucked you too hard. 

It’s the fact that sex is the only consistent way she shows her feelings for you that makes it feel a little bit superficial. 

She comes over to your apartment angry at how the latest batch of makeup she made was shipped to the wrong address? She won’t ask you for comforting hugs, she’ll tell you to push her legs over her head and dick her down till she can’t walk. 

You get frustrated over the new Return-To-Office policy your job announced because the office is an hour drive? She won’t say a word, just pull your pants down and squeeze your cock in between her tits.

You won’t lie, sex with Somi is Grade A, Top Tier, Perfection. You’ll never get tired of her body, her moans, her willingness to do anything. What you are tired of, is the absence of romance—for the lack of a better term—in your life.

Not in the physical way, no, she already gives you enough to last a lifetime. It’s that the emotional link that you feel was starting to degrade.

You want to be able to do the whole “Netflix and Chill” bit without it ending in the couch getting wet. To be embracing her as you wake up in the mornings. To spend the day doing nothing together.

And it wasn’t like she doesn’t say the words that you’ve been wanting to hear, because she does. She just says it with ‘your cock’ instead of ‘you’ a lot more than you’d like.

You’re starting to think that this is becoming more casual, something to scratch her itch, some sort of fuck buddy set up instead of as a couple. Maybe when this relationship with Somi was still at its infancy would you consider that type of deal–purely physical–because that’s what this was built on.

Thinking back, it’s how it’s always been. Even as she first approached you at the bar you two met. She ordered what you had—a shot of whiskey—and started off with small talk. You two got to know each other, and you may have had a few too many shots that made your lips a bit looser. 

That’s why when you drunkenly tell her that she was hot in that white crop top she was wearing, and that you wanted to lick the alcohol off her stomach, all she does is smirk. The next words she said sobered you straight up.

“When and where?”

And that’s how you ended up playing body shots inside her apartment. It started off innocent enough. Well, as innocent as playing the sort of game that inevitably gets you both drunk and fucked.

You two kept in touch after that night. After a week or so of trading messages and a few racy pics from her, she invited you to meet up again.

This is when the cycle began. One of you invites the other to meet up for something, you do said something, and you two end up doing each other after. Then it happens again.

Somewhere along the way feelings were aired out and you two started to see each other more seriously. At the same time, railing Somi into any nearby surface became a 9-5 job.

Yet you can’t help but want more than that.

To be honest, you might be overthinking things. Maybe you should have sat her down, talked like two responsible adults, and figured out whatever’s happening between you two—really just you—before it got out of hand.

So you do the responsible move. Ask a friend for advice. 

Although, you might have asked the wrong person.

“You’re overthinking things.” Aeri deadpans, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’m not overthinking it.” You deny. “I’m just…stressing about it.”

“That’s the same thing.” 

“Look, are you gonna help out or not?” You scowl, crossing your arms.

“Fine. But you’re presenting to the boss next week.” She sighs, dramatically placing her drink down on the table. “Here’s what you do–”

The next hour becomes a weird lecture consisting of Aeri laying out an entire thesis of plans on how to woo Somi with your heart and not with your dick. You needed to note it all down just to make sure you didn’t miss anything.

After some planning and finalizing some dates, you settled on a beach trip. It was ordinary, casual, relaxing. A chance to have fun without too many shenanigans involved. You can even take her to the nearby festival that’s going to take place for some celebration too.

Of course, the trip being with Somi makes that a pipe dream. 

Day one was mostly spent on actually getting to the venue, getting a feel for the area, and checking into the hotel. 

And everything was going great. It was all going according to plan. After you take a break from all the driving you’ve done you told yourself that you’d take her out to see the tourist spots.

Said break is how you two end up at the hotel’s restaurant, enjoying the cuisine of different nations, the aroma of delicacies, the sound of the piano fluttering across the air. You had to veto room service because no breaks and no eating would happen otherwise.

“Oh my God.” The clattering of metal hitting ceramic fills the table. “I’m so full.” Somi’s slouched over the chair, hand over her stomach as you finish up your own plate.

“You did get two plates worth of dumplings.” You shrug, stabbing your fork down on a leaf. “And the crab too.”

“But it was so good.” She’s justifying, arms out across the table. “I kinda want more.”

“And make your ass explode all over the bathroom later?”

“Fuck you.” She laughs, throwing a napkin at your face. “Like you won’t be doing that later.”

“O–kay.” You exasperate, gesturing down. “Not in front of my salad.”

“Come on.” Her chin’s resting on a hand, tilting her head as she smirks. And it’s that smirk, that fucking smirk, that always precedes your downfall to the drug that is Somi. 

Ruining her is usually an eventuality, especially given that you’re going to be alone with her for the next few days. But this time, you will not falter. You remind yourself why you’re here, what the point of this entire trip was about. That this is to show her how much you–

Oh Goddamnit.

Somi’s finger is on her tank top, stretching the fabric outwards. Her tits are practically squished together, making them a lot more bigger than they already are. Then she pulls down, and you find out that she wasn’t wearing a bra this entire time. You also find out that the only thing that was on her boobs were a pair of nipple tape covering her buds.

“You sure you don’t want to?” Her finger’s moving across her top, showing you more of that milky white skin, and she knows that you’re getting hooked. “I even brought lube.”

“Somi-” Your hand springs up, slapping her hand away and pulling her top back up in one smooth motion. “I thought we said no funny business outside the hotel.”

“We’re still in the hotel aren’t we?” Of course she’s gonna pull semantics at you. “Just a little quickie before we head out for the festival.”

The line’s set, and you’re tugging it. “You just can’t help yourself, can you.” 

She’s lifting her arms above her head, emphasizing her chest, her tight clothing rising with it to show her stomach, defined and toned from all the yoga lessons she’s been doing. You unconsciously grip the table sheets.

“I just wanna show my appreciation for my sweet, sweet boyfriend-” She’s reeling you in, hard, and you inevitably let yourself be swept away. “-who set up this entire trip and drove me all the way here so early in the morning.”

You’re thinking of happy thoughts, the logistics of the rest of the trip that you have yet to do with her, the caesar salad that you’ve been enjoying. Anything to stop yourself from appreciating the view right in front of you because this is getting out of hand.

The chair screeches. “So whenever you’re done here,” Somi’s standing up, giving you a very nice view of her cleavage as she does. “I’ll be heading back up and getting myself ready.” That smirk is still on her face when she leans in. “Maybe if you’re fast enough you can have a piece of my ass.”

Your resolve is officially gone, the idea of having Somi’s sweet, tight ass once more becoming too tempting as she walks away, waving her keycard at you like it was some sort of prize. Your eyes are glued to her waist moving from side to side.

Sinker.

—

You had to sit and wave at the waiter to pay for the food. Normally you’d go right up to the cashier to do that but a particular brunette made it hard to stand up. Once you manage to get up from your seat without your hard-on in full display to the other patrons, you immediately speed walk it to the elevator. 

You’re falling back into the same repetition of Somi causing trouble, dragging you to another round of debauchery. You already tried to set ground rules by only doing it inside the hotel, but you suppose you’ll need to re-negotiate it to just being in the hotel room.

Which, thinking on it, was where you were going. Sigh.

She’s irresistible, and she knows it. Shit, she flaunts it whenever she can around you because she knows you’ll give in eventually.

Maybe you can slip in one dose of Jeon Somi’s tight ass before you move on with your plan to take her out for a romantic date. Considering the plan’s already screwed up as it is, all cause Somi—and by extension, you—decided to have some fun. 

Though, you really should stop this. Say no. Sounded simple enough. Just one word. Lay it out flat.

But the seed’s already planted. The picture of her in your hotel room, waiting, naked, touching herself, prepping for all the dirty things you’ll be doing to her; Your inhibitions get shot to pieces.

You already know what’s going to happen when you walk through that door. She’ll be somewhere in the room—the balcony, you bet—ready for you to ravish her. And for all intents and purposes, you might as well enjoy the detour.

Soon as you open the door to your hotel room, the TV’s blaring out music and the bathroom door’s open. You take your shoes off before walking up to the doorway to be greeted with the unholy sight of Somi.

Naked, leaned into the bathroom counter where she uses the mirror to glance at you, her ass swaying as one of her hands are in between her legs and the other resting on the cold marble right next to a clear little bottle.

“Hey there.” She sighs out. “Just–finishing up.” Her eyes are fluttering shut, two fingers pumping into her puckered hole, already knuckle deep at this point. Somi knows the drill when it comes to preparing herself for anal; she has it down to a science at this point.

Her hand slides over to the bottle, pushing it towards you as a silent suggestion before she ruffles her hair, making her all the more ruinable. You’re shaking your head, but you step behind her anyway, unbuckling your belt in the process.

“Always a tease.” You’re pulling your pants down, your boxers following after to let your cock feel the cold air of the bathroom.

“Like you don’t love it.” She replies, orbs blinking open, looking at you through the mirror with fuck me eyes as she pulls her hand away from her hole. “Ready when you are.”

You’re applying an ample amount of lube onto your cock, stroking to help cover your entire shaft as you move closer, resting yourself on her ass. “You’re excited.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ve been horny ever since we got in the car.” 

You scoff. “You’re always horny.” 

She laughs. “Who wouldn’t when you have that cock–” Your tip’s pressing against her asshole, making her unable to reply as she feels you push into her. It’s splitting her open, her tight, slick ass taking you in slowly.

“Hurry up.” She’s taking deep, steady breaths as she presses back onto your cock, adjusting to the feeling of your cock inside her, taking even more of you as you grip her hips. As you bottom out, she lets out a groan, smiling through the pain of taking your entire dick up her ass.

“You’re getting impatient.” A hand lifts up from her hip to grab one of her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh. “Thought you’d wanna take your time.”

“You still gotta take me to that festival.” She moans out as you’re pulling out slowly, letting her get used to your size before you stretch her out again. She clenches around you, impossibly tight, as you slowly begin to buck into her. “And I wanna get to–Fuck, that’s it–get to the beach too.”

She loops one of her hands around her neck as a harness, pulling herself up to give you a kiss. “So as much as I want to enjoy this–“ Another sigh slips out of her, the pleasure slowly erasing any of the pain that she’s feeling. “–You need to dick me down, fast, so we can enjoy our vacation.”

You smile, dipping down to pepper kisses around her neck. “Something we agree on, babe.” Your thrusts progressively get faster into her, enjoying the feel of her ass, the lube doing wonders for the both of you as she braces herself once more on the counter.

She’s so unbelievably snug, the feel of her abs flexing on your hand as she sucks you in so much easier now, the wet, sticky, warm hole overtaking your mind as you get to pounding her asshole.

”Fucking missed this ass, didn’t you?” She’s watching you over the reflection, your gaze laser focused on the bounce of her ass. It was hypnotizing, seeing it recoil from how hard you’re ramming your cock into her. 

“I never say no to your ass.” You grunt out, gripping her hip a bit firmer, squeezing her tit a bit harder, hammering a bit faster as you enjoy hearing her whimper your name out, her hand shooting up to hold onto yours as she shifts her body to lean into you instead.

”Then ruin my ass–“ She’s grinning, squeezing her breast over your hand. Her other hand is moving back down between her legs again, circling her clit, adding even more to the bliss she’s feeling. “–ruin it for anyone else.”

You oblige, hand crashing down on her ass before you grip her again, near the small of her back this time as you get rougher, thrusts getting more frantic as she starts to sing all these filthy words out.

“God, love you in my ass. Love it when you stretch my ass out, filling me, breaking me.” She’s on a tangent, muttering out all these porn star-y lines as if she is one, and honestly? She can probably make bank if all she had to do was take dick. “Gonna–Gonna make me your whore, aren’t you? Make me take your cock in all my tight fucking holes till I can’t fucking walk anymore–”

A sharp crack airs out, followed by a chuckle, slow, breathy, enticing. Her tongue’s out, tracing her lips. “Do it again. Slap my ass some more.”

And you do it. God do you do it. Your palm’s leaving hard slaps on her skin, leaving it with red marks that gets her even more fucked up as she watches, mouth widening at how much you’re utterly obsessed with her and her ass.

“Only think about cock nowadays don’t you, you stupid bitch.” You pinch a bud, giving her another slap on the ass. Whether she tightens up from the slap or the degrading nickname, you can only guess. “Guess it’s a good thing you’re getting mine.”

”Yes, love your cock–“ Somi’s rubbing herself faster now, fingers getting desperate as you slam harder into her hole, unrelenting. “Own this ass–” Her eyes are rolling back, her entire body starts to tremble, losing herself as she grips the counter again, letting herself be used like a doll. 

”Oh, fuck–“ She lets out this scream, raw, husky as liquid starts to drip out of her, dripping down her legs all the way to the tiles. Her head slacks downward, eyes shutting, her ass somehow gets even more vice-like than you thought it could get, making you murmur out a curse, reluctantly pulling out of her ass to stop yourself from following her.

Her fingers are persistent, working her clit when you spread her ass, looking at her gaping hole. You grip your shaft, lowering it down to her pussy, slick from her cum, dragging it up and down, the feeling of her heat making you wet your lips.

She shudders when you push inside her cunt, legs still shaking as you bury deep inside her. Her ass may have been tighter, but the feeling of her pussy being so much more slicker and the way it was radiating heat makes you groan out.

“Miss my pussy too?” She purrs, using the mirror to look at the both of you. Her hair’s a mess, brown strands sticking out all over the place, tongue playfully peeking out as that damn smirk forms on her mouth while you start fucking her.

“Just getting a taste.” You’re wrapping your arms around her, locking eyes with Somi through the glass as you lean in to whisper in her ear. “Promise to cum inside your ass.”

She grins, leaning back, mouth dropping open as you start to pick up the pace, her  body rocking forward every time you get balls deep inside of her. “You better. Want that cum filling up my ass, baby.”

You’re still focused on her face, from the way her eyes are rolling back again, from how rough you pummel into her, her mouth that’s panting out moans and begging for more of you, your cock, your cum. Her gaze never loses sight of you, watching you pound her into the marble.

Then you feel it. That all-familiar stirring in your balls, making you go feral, and she can sense it too, by how she pushes back against your hips, letting her take you for a ride.

You’re holding onto her tits, squeezing the soft flesh, rolling her nipples between your fingers, tugging at them, while Somi’s grounding herself by the counter as she’s bucking, grinding her ass against you whenever she takes you all in.

Her ass is fucking unbelievable to look at, soft, firm, bouncing with this rhythm that edges you closer to the end. The slaps of her backside hitting your pelvis is all you can hear, fueling you further to bursting. That tightness in your balls is building, the feel of her wet, hot pussy sending you to the deep end before you spill inside her.

“Gonna cum, Somi, fuck–” You lock up, going for one last push to cross the finish line as you send it, deep, filling her completely with your length.

The pressure breaks, hands sliding down to hold onto her curves, locking her in place as you cum, shooting up her pussy, the few hot spurts painting her walls. Then you remember where you’re supposed to cum, and pull out abruptly. Cum’s still leaking out as you press your tip into her asshole, flooding her pucker with your load.

“That’s it.” She stills, moaning in tune with every pulse of your cock, filling her ass, rolling her hips as you thrust, stuffing her with cock, giving her every bit of your cum. “So much hot, fucking cum all inside me.”

You slump over Somi, resting your head by her nape, completely spent and she’s glowing. As if your cum was some sort of energy drink that invigorates her, looking like she wasn’t pounded into the bathroom sink. 

“So–” She plants this sloppy kiss on your cheek, a snicker coming out of her as she rests her head on yours. “My ass still as good as you remember?”

“Always.” You sigh out, pulling out of her and drawing her into your arms. “Now shut up and let me have this moment.”

Her lips curve upwards, air scoffing out through her nose as she leans into you, running a hand through your hair, damp from your past actions. She leaves another kiss on your shoulder, soft, loving.

“This is nice,” she mutters out, nestling underneath you.

You hum in agreement, seeing yourself smiling over the reflection of the mirror.

Even if you two have done this so many times, you’d never get tired of having Somi in your arms.

—

After the bathroom incident, you both took a shower—separately, of course, you didn’t want any more unpredicted scenes happening—and walked to the nearby festival. Fucking about in the short trip to the venue was something you’d expect coming from her.

“Why is the festival so far away from the beach?” Somi’s fixing her bucket hat, using the nearby window of a cafe as a mirror. “You said that it was nearby.”

“It is.” You place a hand on the small of her back, steering her away from the window where people were definitely watching her model for free. “It’s a ten minute walk.”

“That’s ten minutes too long though-” And the countdown’s at five. You’re rushing her to the crossing, guiding her out of any more trouble. “-and my feet are starting to hurt.”

“Somi, we just got out of the hotel.” You deadpan. “And how does your feet hurt in All-Stars?” You stop at the other side, turning your head to face her.

“Because you’re walking too fast, jackass.” She pouts. It’s not something you see everyday from her. “Slow down a bit, enjoy the scenery.”

You know what she meant by ‘scenery’. It was Somi-speak for ‘Let’s find a place for a quickie’. One more way to derail this break you’ve planned for weeks. And you were not gonna fall for it a second time.

“Somi.” Your voice is stern, calling her out on her bullshit. “Seriously, not outside.”

She rolls her eyes, lips jutting out just enough for it to look adorably pissed off. “It’s just a joke–”

“No, it wasn’t.” You cut her off. “I know you. And that’s not a joke.”

Some would think you’re being too harsh on her. Normally, you’d agree. But you need to put your foot down this time. The glare on your face surprises her, like she wasn’t expecting you to push back on something that’s become the norm in your relationship.

She’s a walking trouble magnet. Anytime, anywhere. It didn’t matter if it was a risky fuck in a public bathroom or getting fingered at a park. If she wants to get off, she’ll more than likely drag you to it. She usually expects you to follow through. Do whatever type of fucking on whatever surface is nearby. 

You can tell she doesn’t like hearing it. It was foreign. Unfamiliar territory that she’s stepped on. Wasn’t like you want to say it either, because you don’t. But Somi was pushing, even with that ‘hotel only’ rule-thing in place. 

Somi knows it. She had to. It’s why she hasn’t said anything. Only stared, searching, sighing. You know you’ve won when she adjusts her bucket hat and purses her lips together.

“You’re no fun today.” She says, wrapping her arms around yours, hiding her face from your gaze, and mutters something you barely heard.

“...But I get it.”

You let air come out through your nose, and relax just a tiny bit. Enough for her to know that you’re not truly mad, and maybe a tad bit disappointed. Her arms tighten their grip. She exhales, dramatic, exaggerated, theatrical.

“I hope you know that you owe me one later.” Her smirk is creeping back onto her face, the teasing coming back in full swing. And perhaps, even a bit of understanding slipping in.

“Yeah, yeah.” You shake your head, giving her an amused little smile. “Put it on the tab.”

She giggles, leaning into your side as you continue walking. Her head turns.

“Is that coconut?” She asks, leaning just a bit more to smell your scent.

“Yeah, why?” You’re turning a corner, a small sign pointing to the festival’s venue stuck on a wall.

“Nothing.” She gets comfy in your arms, resting her head on your shoulder. “Smells nice, is all.”

This is nice too; Quiet, comfortable, enjoying each other’s company.

Until you feel it. The crowd getting thicker, the chatter and the footsteps matching the beat of the traditional drums. You felt livelier, hell, the entire place felt alive, and the smell of mouthwatering, rich, smoky, meat enters you.

Rows upon rows of food stalls are lined up; The sizzling meat, the cold boba, the multitude of grub tempting you to take part in it.

“Oh my God.” Somi lets go of your arm, slipping downward to hold your hand instead. Her stare is darting, left, right, looking between the display of delicious delights. She feels warm. “We are so eating first.”

“I thought you said you were full.”

“After what we did earlier, I need a little pick me up.” She’s dragging you to the nearby booth, the aroma of sweet, sweet meat filling your nostrils, and by God you wanted one too.

Sausages, kebabs, fishcakes. Everything looked so good you can’t choose where to start. It’s a good thing Somi does, as she takes a skewer of pork—maybe beef? You weren’t sure—and a cup of fishcakes, already pulling out change from her handbag to pay the vendor, giving her thanks while she’s at it.

She turns to you, already taking a bite of her skewer, taking the top piece off before she practically moans.

“This is sho good.” She’s shameless with the food, swiping her tongue to get the sauce off her lips, the sounds coming out of her bordering pornographic, getting her the occasional odd stare from others. “You want some?”

Shit, if the smell didn’t tempt you, the way she ate the meat would have.

She’s offering you the stick, and you were about to take it off her hands before she pulls it away, an “uh-uh” coming out disapprovingly. 

“What?” You ask, looking back at her, head tilted, giving you a look. She holds it up one more time, closer to your mouth this time. 

Your eyes cycle back and forth from hers to the stick, trying to figure if there’s some sort of ulterior motive that Somi’s trying to pull. But seeing her round ebony globes turn to crescents, face grinning, brows wagging lets you know that she really does want to feed you her meat. 

Your breath catches briefly before you let out this airy laugh. This doesn’t feel remotely close to the Somi you know, but you’re enjoying it either way.

“Unbelievable.” You mutter out, leaning in to bite the cube of flesh off the stick, chewing it slowly, savoring the flavor of the meat—definitely pork—and the sweet taste of the sauce it was dipped on before Somi bought it off the stall.

“Told you it’s good.” She’s already smug about it, finishing up the skewer before she uses the stick to dig into the fishcakes. “Almost as good as yours.”

“Did–did you just compare me to pork?” 

“Yours is still the best, babe.” She’s smirking, putting a piece of cake into her mouth before walking away. “Let’s go see what else is on the menu.”

You two move through the area, trying out whatever peaks catches your interest, like those fish bread that had bean paste inside, some fried dumplings, and a bowl of spicy ramen that you could get for free if you ate it within the set time limit. 

Both you and Somi left that shop a few bills short and egos bruised.

Your tongue is scorching from the heat and spices of whatever monstrosity of a ramen bowl you just ate, half tempted to take off your jacket while you’re at it and Somi’s wiping a tear from her eye, huffing short breaths. Just trying to recover from how fucking spicy the noodles were, and trying to salvage any shred of pride you two have.

“I think I’m dying.” She hisses out, fanning her face with her bucket hat. “We need milk or something. Anything. Just–what the fuck was in that ramen–just needs to be cold.”

You're scanning the nearby stalls, trying to find something that can alleviate this flame burning your mouths. Ice cream, shakes, something freezing. You’d take plain old water if it was kept frozen for hours on end.

Then you see it. Squeezed between two vendors, condensation dripping down the glass dispenser, ice and lemons floating over the body of water within. You can feel how cold it is from a mile away. It’s a Godsend, a light to guide you out of this hell, and Somi sees it too, speed walking towards the kiosk with you right behind her.

As soon as you approach the owner, he’s already preparing cups as if he knows everyone who’s tried the ramen came to his stall. Freezing cubes, citrusy yellow fruits, chilly H2O, all combined into a concoction that would bring forth paradise to the inside of your lips.

Somi doesn’t bother with a straw, she just pops the lid open and starts chugging it down while you’re still paying for your drinks, saying your thanks as you start drinking your own plastic cup. It’s refreshing, dousing the blaze in icy cold liquid.

The lemonade does its job, allowing a respite to finally breathe again. Somi’s already finished her drink, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, letting out a laugh.

“We’re checking every instant ramen pack we buy after that.” She says, shaking her head, blowing air through her mouth, still feeling the effects of the noodles. You let out this hum of agreement, too occupied with the bliss of the cold refreshment.

“Oh yeah.” You finally sigh out, licking your lips. “That was worse than your cooking.”

She swats your arm, light but firm enough to make you almost drop your juice. 

“My cooking’s great!” Her brows furrow, cheeks puffing out.

“Exactly. That was made by the Devil. Anything’s better than that.” You shift your grip, making sure that nothing spilled onto your hand while giving her a look.

She rolls her eyes, muttering about how ‘ungrateful’ you are when her gaze flickers past you; Her brows raise, jaw slacking slightly making you turn your head to follow her sight.

Your lips were about to part, to ask her what she’s looking at, until a deep boom cuts through the festival. It was slow, steady, pulsing, shaking the ground with each beat. Everyone around you stirs, turning to the source near the open area in the middle. You see costumed dancers with large fans on their hands. The beat of the drums goes faster, and you’re unconsciously taking Somi by the wrist, pulling her towards the performance. 

The show is spectacular; the colors of their dresses swirling around, the lights bouncing off them. They dance like a well-oiled machine, giving the spectators a show of a lifetime.

Your head turns, glancing at Somi, who’s just as immersed as you were, a glow in her those small orbs that you can get lost in that only ever shows when she’s gazing at things she cares intimately about. The orange light frames her face perfectly, the flickering shining through, a rawness in how she’s watching being written in her visage.

You can tell that she’s not just watching. The way her lips are still parted, her body nodding to the beat. She’s taking it in, losing herself in it, oblivious to the outside world. Oblivious to your staring.

Everyone’s focused on the dancers, the ballad of drums thumping along with each step they take, the muttering of the crowd as they’re wow’d by the show blending in with the smell of the nearby food stands. But all you’re focused on is her.

Somi’s blowing you away under the warm hue of the lanterns, a honeyed light encapsulating her hazel hair that makes her look like a Goddess; Shit, she probably is, and you can’t help but trace every little feature of her face; The curves of her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips, the light in her eyes. While everyone’s breath is taken away from the performers, yours is taken away by her.

She looks like she’s a dream that you’ve all but imagined. One you could spend the rest of your life looking at.

And you want to tell her. God, do you want to tell her.

But you settle for holding her hand instead, giving it a light squeeze. She squeezes back.

“It’s beautiful.” Her focus is still centered on them, talking about the performance.

“Yeah.” You’re talking about her. “It is.”

She turns, locking her gaze onto yours, and she realizes that too. 

Her grip on your hand gets tighter as the last beat drums out into the air, the group posing, bowing, thanking everyone. Claps and cheers sound out as everyone slowly returns to what they were doing before.

Just like the two of you do, when a smirk appears on her face. “Getting sappy on me?”

“Shut up.” You chuckle, walking backwards, your hand never letting go of hers as you continue on exploring. The warmth in your chest still lingers.

She lets out this tiny teasing giggle, fingers squeezing playfully, letting herself be strung along the crowd. The entire place feels even more lively than it was before the dance, the swarm of people occupying the stalls once more, the energy at an all time high. 

You can still smell the aroma of the kebabs, trying to pull you back in for another taste. You see the hellish ramen shop full of people lined up to take on the challenge; The lemonade stand has pre-made cups ready.

You nudge Somi, nodding to the stand, where the current contestant’s booking it to buy said juice, causing you two to laugh at the similarities.

You and her floated, going everywhere, doing everything. Listening to the band that performed earlier do a much more calmer beat. Watching Somi try—and fail—at shooting darts.

“You good?” Your arms are crossed, amusement coloring your face as she’s aiming at the board, an eyelid closed, tongue sticking out at the side, arm cocking forward. “I can do it for you, you know.”

“Shush.” A moment. An arm extending. A thunk in the air.

“Nice.” You’re clapping. “You hit nothing three times.”

She grunts, slamming down coins on the table. “You do it then.”

And you did. You hit dead center twice. You got a small keychain of a lantern too.

Somi’s sulking, arms crossed as she stares at the board, muttering out one word. “How?”

“You’re just bad.” You can’t help but be smug about it.

You got another smack on the arm for that.

The sun’s starting to set when the both of you ended up at the souvenir portion of the place, where you can see another line on a small photobooth on the side, stalls of handmade jewelry, charms, candles, whatever can be kept as keepsakes after today.

You’re window shopping—mostly—while Somi’s going through each and every one of the sellers, picking up trinkets that catch her eye. A bracelet here, an amulet there, she’ll try them all.

You’re mostly sticking to one, browsing through columns of rings, some similar, others completely different; A variety of colors, simply intricate designs, silver and gold bands all presented in ring boxes. A few have stones adorned on them, or have engravings etched in the metal.

Yet you only see one, tucked away in a corner. You hover over it, brushing your fingers over its container, and you pick it up.

The ring itself is made of this ashen grey metal, a thin turquoise line running in the middle, looping around it. It doesn’t scream attention, but there’s something fitting about it that makes you want to-

“What you got there?” Somi’s back with you, staring at the box that you’re holding. 

You blink, and you have an epiphany; The ring wasn’t for you, it’s for her.

“Put it on.” You take the ring out of the box and place it down, and you can feel the merchant look away and whistle.

“You’re proposing already?”

“Thought it would suit you.”

She laughs, takes it off your hands and twirls it, examining it for herself. She smiles, small, almost unnoticeable, and slowly slides it on her ring finger—it fits perfectly.

“What do you know,” Somi’s admiring it on her hand. “It does suit me.” There’s a fondness in the way she says it, as if she already likes the feeling of having it on her finger.

You were expecting her to follow up on that proposal joke she made before she put it on; She didn’t.

You had that gut feeling that she’d like it earlier, but the way she looks at it catches you off guard. Like it was something that she didn’t know she needed. Like a memento that came from someone special. Someone like you.

And that was all you needed to know to get it for her.

“So what did you get?” You’re nonchalantly changing the topic, trying to hide your excitement by fishing a few more bills out of your wallet, making a subtle face at the seller like you were asking for the price.

“This.” She says just as you pay and grab the ring box from the table. “You got me this.”

“Oh.” You shrug. That wasn’t the response you were expecting. “Well, I-uh, I hope you like it.”

“I love it.” She corrects, thumbing the ring. “I’m never taking it off.”

“Now who’s getting sappy?”

She makes this noise—happy, embarrassed—and shakes her head, smiling. “I hate you.”

You chuckle. “No, you don’t.”

She doesn’t answer. She only tugs you by the hand. “Come on, I heard there’s fireworks and the beach has the best view.”

You can’t help but tease her a bit when your brow raises and your lip turns upwards. “You didn’t get me anything did you?”

“Keep talking and I won’t get you anything at all.”

—

You can feel the festival’s energy stay with you two when you reach the outskirts of the beach, the faint smell of all the food you’ve passed by lingering on your clothes. But the chaos of it all is dimmer, the coastline not as populated, with only a few scattered around the area.

You took the long way back, enjoying the nightlife scenery of the area—without shenanigans—seeing everyone else enjoy the festival just as you did, the orange lights being replaced with the moonlight, some of the organizers prepping the colorful rockets that will dazzle the crowd later on.

Somi hasn’t stopped smiling, fooling around every other moment, raving all about the fireworks like it's the New Years and she needs someone to do that kissing tradition people do when it hits quadruple zeroes.

Wasn’t like you’d say no. Win in your books really.

The both of you end up on a pathway of rubble and stones, eventually coming across a set of benches looking towards the shore. She acts first, moving forward, pulling you with her to sit on the wooden chair.

Other than the sound of the waves crashing and the cicadas, it was finally quiet. A nice, comfortable quiet. Enjoying the silent peace, away from the chaos of the festival.

She rests her head on your shoulder, hand still looped around yours. “Borrow your jacket?”

“Sure.” You don’t hesitate, already moving to take your jacket off. You pull away from her for a moment to slip it from your shoulders and drape it over hers, securing it over her arms.

“Thanks.” Her fingers take a hold of the leather, pulling it closer to herself before she nestles back against you. A moment passes between you two, then–

“It’s still fucking cold.”

“I can always get you another bowl of that ramen–”

“No. Snuggle me.”

“O-kay.” And snuggle her you did. Arm over her shoulder, a kiss on her forehead. You two stay like that for a while until she takes another whiff of you, and squints.

“You really need to tell me that perfume you’re wearing.” She states.

“I’ll hand you the bottle back at the hotel.” She pouts.

“Just tell me the name already.” She whines. It was cute.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” She’s puffing her cheeks. It was cuter.

“Killjoy.” She elbows lightly. “Gonna snoop through your luggage for that bottle.”

“And now you’ll never get it.” You grin. It turns into a laugh when she elbows you a bit harder this time.

You two quiet down after, enjoying the view of the beach. She’s holding on to your hand, that ring on her finger glinting. She stares at it, smiling like an idiot again.

“Really outdid yourself this time, huh.” She mutters, too low for you to hear.

You hum, glancing down at her still staring at her hand. “Did you say something?”

She meets your eyes, giving you that look that she had back when you two were watching the performance happen. She holds it a beat too long, and opens her mouth to speak—

“Aeri told me.” She starts, gaze staying on you, even as you look away. Of course Aeri is a rat. “About why we’re here.” She chuckles. “And I think I should clear things up between us.”

“You don’t have to-” A nudge stops you from continuing.

“Shut up and let me talk.” Even when she’s serious there’s still that faint teasing inside of her. But it gives way when she breathes in and holds it, and lets it go.

“Every ex I’ve had was there because I’m ‘hot’. The easy fuck. And I knew about it.” She continues, thumb moving around the ring once more. “So I leaned into that stuff. I love doing it anyway, so I thought it’d be a win-win for everyone, you know?” She looks away, back to the shoreline. “But it didn’t feel right. Like–like yeah the sex was good–you’re the best–” She clarifies, and that kind of made your ego swell up a bit.

By a lot, actually.

“–But it was just sex. Honestly felt like I was booty call than anything else.” She shakes her head, sighing, tired from remembering those times, but pushes on anyway.

“So when we started fucking, it was different.” Her fingers tighten around the jacket. “It was fun. Well, sex is always fun, but it was funnier–”

“Funner.” You interject. Another elbow.

“Shut up.” She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, with you it’s sorta not like that. I actually want to fuck you because I–”

She licks her lips, a little embarrassed about what she’s going to say next even though you already know what she’s about to do anyways.

“–I love you and I know that I don’t say it too much and I knowIshouldbutlikeIdont–”

“Somi, breathe.” Your arm over her grips her shoulder, just enough to ground her back from her short crashout.

She leans back into your chest, hiding, whining, breathing. One last deep inhale, and she’s sitting back up.

“Okay, okay.” Somi exhales, shaking off any sort of fluster she has left. “I’m fine, good, chill.” A finger pokes your chest. “You really need to tell me what your perfume is.”

“If it lets you say ‘I love you’ more then I’ll get you an entire bottle.”

“Oh my God.” She laughs, hand over her face. “You are not gonna tell me the name aren’t you?”

“Maybe after the trip.” You shrug, chuckling yourself as you watch her laugh harder.

“Such a jackass.” She lets out, her laughter dying down. “Seriously though, you might think that I fuck you for shits and giggles like Aeri said you were thinking. And while I appreciate the fact that you did all this–” Her hand finds yours, soft, firm, assuring. You can feel the ring indent against your skin. “–I also appreciate you a lot more. So don’t you fucking doubt that, got it?”

“Yes ma’am.” You smile, pecking her lips. “Love you.”

“...Love you too.” She smiles, hiding behind her hair this time. “Even if you won’t give me your damn perfume.”

“You are obsessed with finding out what it is.” 

“Yeah, and I am losing my fucking mind about it.” She’s back to cuddling you, your arm over her frame, dumb dopey little smiles on each of your faces. The small quiet moment passes, then—

“Sorry if I brought up exes, just–thought it was important.”

“You let me know I’m your best fuck. Nothing to be sorry about.” You get another light ribbing for that, but the giggle that comes out of her doesn’t deny your statement.

Something else was gnawing at you though.

“Did Aeri really rat me out?” You ask, scoffing, noting that you shouldn’t trust Aeri with any more secret trips. And maybe advice too.

Her eyebrows hike up. “What, because she let me know that you’re a closet Romeo in hiding?”

“I want to say that I’m more Han Solo than Romeo when it comes to romance.”

And the laugh that comes out of her sounded so genuine, so beautiful, so hers. “And I’m Princess Leia?”

“I mean,” You exaggerated, prolonging the word out in the air and making this face at her. “It’s better than being dead as Juliet. And Romeo too.”

She laughs harder, and you can’t help but get drawn into it too. It’s contagious, her energy, her teasing, her everything.

Eventually it dies down to small giggles and chuckles, and you’re back to having that comfortable silence with her. Then she stands up and turns to you, arm outstretched towards you. “Come on Romeo, still gotta get you something.”

“Are you trying to cheapskate by getting me a seashell?” A grin appears on your face as you let yourself be dragged away by her once more.

“Don’t forget about the fireworks.” She tosses over her shoulder, hurrying the both of you towards the sand, kicking off her shoes. You tug off your own, taking both pairs with you, leaving footprints down as you follow her into the grain.

The cold salty breeze of the sea hits you, and you see Somi waving to some of the people she passes by. Her hair flows down her back as the wind blows through, tilting her head back to feel the air, smiling as she closes her eyes. You wish you can take a photo of her because fucking hell is she beautiful.

Her head’s turning before you can, that familiar playful glint in her eye alongside a warmth that you’ve been craving for. So much so you’re unconsciously letting a smile break out of your face.

“What?” She asks, lips curling, as if she already knows where this is going. “Does Romeo have something to say?”

You don’t speak, only walk forward. Somi’s an arm’s length away when you drop your shoes onto the sand and take a hold of her, wrapping your arm around her waist, another resting on her cheek. She doesn’t pull away, if anything she leans into you, her own arms closing around your neck, and before you can act on kissing her, she’s pulling you instead.

Everything fades when her lips meet yours; All you can feel is how soft she is, the faint taste of fishcake and lemon hitting your tastebuds, her fingers threading around your hair. The way her cheek leans into your hand, the heat of her body molding to yours.

It’s different, not unlike every other kiss you’ve had with her. Desire, arousal, whatever you call it, it’s muted, replaced with warmth, joy, love. Less of a flicker and more of a flame, slowly gaining strength and settling within.

When she pulls away for air, the sight of her grinning is the first thing you see, breathless, eyes brighter than the shine of the moon. “Love you.” She utters, pecking your lips briefly, arms resting on your chest.

You only tilt your head, resting your forehead on hers, hands staying on her waist, keeping her close. You press your lips against hers, and it’s all the words she needs to feel how much you love her too.

A crack in the air splits the moment, making you turn your head to see bright lights in the air, the first wave of fireworks bursting into rainbows, crossing the dark skies.

“Told you this was the best view.” She says, eyes reflecting the colors in the clouds, the sounds of people cheering in the background muffled by all the cracking in the sky. 

You’re still holding her close as you watch the night get infected with the festival’s energy, each explosion painting the stars. The colors dance on the both of you—gold, crimson, azure—and you just can’t get enough of staring at her. 

“Ten out of ten.” You let out, no longer afraid of being caught by her. The smile on her face says she knows you’re talking about her, just like she did back at the festival. She doesn’t tease this time, accepting it instead.

Eventually the pauses between each wave of fireworks get longer, and you’re left with the sound of the waves crashing, the crowd splitting up into silent murmurs.

She sighs out, a small one, but you can feel the weight of everything leaving her. A laugh slips out, that familiar, joking little laugh with a hint of friskiness behind it.

“So,” A tug of your hand, and you’re heading back to the path out of the beach, passing by to pick up your shoes. “Wanna head back to the hotel and fuck all night?”

“Somi-”

“No, no.” She clarifies, swinging her arm and yours follow. “Romeo needs to realize that I love him. So I need to show him how much I do.”

…Oh.

There’s no teasing in there; Just pure honest resolve coming out. And when the words from before and now finally start to sink in, and your heart start to beat faster from the desire and the warmth that comes with all the implications of them. Physical, emotional, mental, spiritual.

Wasn’t just you thinking it’s all about fucking for her anymore. Not after that. You were just too wrapped up in your own thoughts to see the bigger picture. 

Maybe you did overthink things.

You don’t even feel her tugging you for a kiss, your name whispering out her lips. “I want this. I want you. No bullshit.”

And she means it. You believe her. With everything that she’s saying and doing and wanting and needing.

“I want you too. All of you.”

“Good.” She grins, and that was the brightest thing you’ve ever seen today. “Cause you’re not getting any sleep tonight.”

—

If there’s one thing that you didn’t regret paying for, it’s the hotel room. It wasn’t a suite or anything high-end nor was it any of the simple ones. It was the type after that, with the softer bed, the balcony view, a bigger TV—overall, just better.

So when you’re pushed down on the couch, Somi climbing on top of you, tongue shoved down your throat, you’re glad that the couch was pretty soft. You’re also glad that you can feel her tits pressing up against your chest when you kiss back.

She rolls her hips and gives your lower lip a bite that just fucks you up; She knows it too, when she grins and steals another kiss. Your hands rests on her waist, still rocking, grinding onto you. 

Somi’s everywhere; Resting on your shoulders, playing with your hair, slipping underneath your shirt. All the while her tongue is fighting yours, your own hands playing with the edges of her shirt.

You can feel your cock stirring, thickening underneath your pants, and it encourages her, keeping the slow pace that’s driving you insane.

“Someone’s enjoying this.” Her hands finally rest on your chest, face inches away from yours, that damn grin plastered on her face. She does it again, slower this time, and the sigh that comes out of her sounded like heaven on earth. Her grin widens, eyes flicking down to where you’re straining underneath your pants. “Really enjoying it.”

“Hey,” You squeeze a hip, smiling. “You fuck yourself on my lap like that, it’s kinda hard not to.” 

She hums, bringing your hands up to her tits, squeezing them over the shirt, molding them to be yours once more. You’ve felt her breasts so many times, through fabric, lace, bare, and you’ll never get tired of being able to have the privilege to cup them in your hands.

“God, Somi,” You groan, both from the way she’s forcing you to grope her chest—you’re into it as much as she is—and the way her hips are still rolling. She’s always been enthusiastic about sex, but this, this felt different. This is her offering everything, heart, body, and soul.

It wasn’t about her pleasure tonight. It was about yours.

“Does Romeo need help?” She asks, grinding, circling her weight down on you, making you squeeze harder on her tits. Intentional or not, she didn't care, all she does is let out another laugh because she knows you’re this close to throwing her to the bed.

She doesn’t wait for you to reply, take action, anything. Somi’s sinking down on her knees with this greedy, hungry look, her fingers making quick work of your belt buckle as she pushes your pants and your boxers down, your throbbing cock freed.

You know what’s going to happen; She’s done this so many times, she’s perfected the art of it. And you can’t wait.

“Fuck-” Somi licks her lips, wrapping a hand around you. She jerks you off slowly as she settles in between your legs, getting closer to your cock. You can feel her breath being so damn close. “Gonna worship you tonight baby.”

And the way she drags her tongue from the tip to the base in one agonizingly slow lick makes you wanna just, shit, you don’t even know. She was hot, wet, too damn slow, your cock twitching in her hand as she went back up to your head.

The next few minutes were her tongue tracing along your cock, leaving kisses where she knows you’re weak to, leaving your cock covered in spit, and she hasn’t even taken it in her mouth yet. 

She’s a damn tease, leaving you dying from the pleasure, arms gripping the couch as you let her do whatever she wanted with your cock. Her hands aren’t idle, stroking your spit-laden cock, playing with your balls, breathy little moans coming out of her mouth when she twirls her tongue on the tip.

You’re this close to begging, the need to thrust into her lips growing higher. But you won’t. Even though this is for you, it’s her play, and you’re here to enjoy the show.

You don’t even realize you called her name out, only that a smile appears on her face when she starts licking past the base of your cock and down to your balls. She takes one of them into her mouth, wetting them, her hot breath enveloping, encapsulating.

And the way she sucks on them, God it was like she wanted to kill you. Her tongue coating one, two, both, while her hands were playing with your shaft, jerking you, using her nails to trace the veins, thumbing the tip of your cock.

Somi’s a fucking menace, and she knows it. 

“Still alive?” She mutters, letting your balls go with a pop, sucking in her spit, drooling it all over your cock, making such a pretty mess of you.

“I need,” You’re desperate, panting, your own hands finding solace in her hair, resting, gripping, cock painfully wanting her mouth on it. You can’t even fucking talk, because this wasn’t pleasure, it was torture.

“Tell me.” She says, mouth hovering over your tip, letting out these pants that make your cock ache even more. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“Somi-” You can’t. Not when she’s fucking teasing you with her tongue, running it all over your tip, those brown eyes darkening with a need for your cock, your words, your end.

“Come on, Romeo.” You can barely call it jerking off with how much she’s slowed her hands down. “You can do it.”

“Shit, need you-” You’re thrusting your hips, throwing away your pride to silently beg instead of telling her what you want.

“Just one word, baby.”

“Somi, please-”

And her mouth takes you. All of you.

You swear a bell rang out the moment her lips came into contact with your cock, because the only thing you can see is white, and she’s the angel that’s coming to bring you to Heaven.

Once she takes your entire length, she stops, holding you there inside of her throat. Her tongue’s flat under your shaft, trying to move and get a taste of your balls. You don’t know how long she’s had your cock in her mouth, and you don’t care. You already lost count when she got on her knees.

She pulls back, spit coating her chin, dripping down her shirt. Strings of them are still connecting her lips to your cock as she wraps them back into you, sucking on the tip, tongue working all over, and her hands are back to pumping you.

“So good,” She lets out, lips still making out with your tip, giving you a cheeky wink that is making you lose your fucking mind. She takes more of you, mouth so damn hot, cock drowning how it’s getting wetter, cheeks hollowing as she starts to suck.

You thought you were dying when it was just her tongue. You’re six feet under when she starts bobbing her head on your cock, and she isn’t just worshipping. Fuck that, this is murder. 

There’s no method to her madness. She’ll go with slow, shallow, deep strokes, memorizing every inch, every vein of your cock that makes your toes curl. Suddenly she ramps it up to eleven and fucks her face on your cock, burying you inside of her throat, bracing yourself by gripping her hair tighter. Or she’ll be doing it somewhere in-between, her tongue flicking the tip, hands jerking you, eyes staring into yours.

“You love this, don’t you.” It’s a statement, one she makes after she’s throated your cock. You can’t let out a response when she’s coming back down, lips making out with your tip instead of going back down to the base.

You’re losing your fucking mind. Every time you thought she’d settle into a rhythm, she switches it up, keeping you on your toes, lips grinning, tiny little giggles coming out of her while she’s giving your cock the best blowjob you’ve ever had.

“Fucking adore this cock.” Your cock’s pushing against her cheeks, giving you this one hell of a view. “And it’s all mine.”

Her eyes did not fucking help. Every flick of her tongue, stroke of her hand, bob of her head. Those dark eyes did not leave yours. She’s already ruined you for anyone else, but this is ruining you.

The only thing you can do is let out these weak groans, moans that were borderline begging, just trying to hang on to the ride she’s giving you.

“God–” She starts, spitting another batch of saliva down your cock, her entire face a mess with spit and . “I could do this all night.”

Somi loves it. You know she does. Relishing in it, thriving off of every flex of your leg, every twitch of your fingers, every thrust of your hips.

It’s fueling her, knowing that you’re letting her do anything she wants to you. It’s a goddamn power trip, and she lets you feel how much she’s enjoying you wrapped around her pretty lips.

The moans she’s letting out causing those vibrations to spread all over your cock. The gags that follow were fucking filthy, so wet, so raw. Her throat’s pulsing, contracting around you whenever she takes you down all the damn way. Every choke is a sign of victory that keeps her going, fingers digging your thighs, spit leaking down her mouth.

She pops off of your cock, sucking in a breath. You heard it differently. Messy, needy, undeniably Somi. She’s grinning as she comes back to sliding her tongue over your shaft, spit all over the place.

Somi was not lying when she’ll be worshipping your cock tonight. She’s staking her claim on you, letting you know that nobody else can do it like she can. She’s in the top 1 percent of sucking dick, and you’re extremely lucky to have met this whirlwind of a woman.

“Gimme.” She doesn’t bother asking if you’re close. She can see you’ve been wanting to burst ever since she put her lips on you. “Gimme all that cum, baby. I’ll take all of it. Mouth, face, anywhere you fucking want.”

“Somi–” You growl, teeth gritting, the urge to ruin her entire face with your load at an all time high. Your hands pull her hair, signaling where you want it. “Fa–shit, babe. All over your face.”

“Yeah?” Somi’s stroking you faster, eyes locking with yours, sticking her tongue out as she opens wide. She’s just as fucked as you were, hair all messy from the pushing and pulling you’ve done, strands of it sticking to her flushed cheeks, spit running down her chin.

She’s the filthiest she’s ever been on her knees, and all the nasty things she’s saying, every single word that comes out of her mouth, that sent you over the edge.

“Gonna ruin me? Cover me in your cum? Turn me into your cumdump–ah!”

You're all over her. On her forehead, over her eye, on top of her nose. She’s gasping, moaning, reveling in your cum. She’s getting messier, cum on her hair, her cheeks, her lips.

“Fuck yes,” She draws out, licking her lips, having a taste. “Always so much cum.”

It’s a damn shame you couldn’t commit the view to memory because all you can feel is how good it was when Somi’s jerking you off, covering herself in you. It felt even better when she shoves herself back down her throat, swallowing the last few drops.

You groan, feeling her cheeks hollow out one last time, draining you of the last few drops you let out. You finally get a good view of her after the fallout of your orgasm, and she is drenched in white, one eye closed, lips stretched in a smile even with your cock sandwiching them. 

She pulls your cock out of her lips, and she grins while you’re still sitting on the couch reeling from whatever the fuck that was.

“Oh my God,” You sear her cum-streaked face into your brain, her shirt wet from the spit and cum, because holy shit does she look shamelessly ecstatic with how dirty she is while you’re still remembering how to breathe. “You’re just–what the fuck?”

Somi laughs, tongue flicking out to catch a drop of cum sticking to her lips. Her fingers aren’t idle too, scooping up the cum and sucking them clean. “That’s one.”

“What, are we–” You adjust yourself, watching how she cleans herself up of your cum. Every stray, every glob of it lands on her mouth, and she’s enjoying it like it’s ice cream. “Are we keeping score?”

She smirks, hands dropping down to grip the hem of her shirt, and she’s pulling it over her head, landing somewhere behind her—you don’t care—showing a lacy black bra. 

“Round two?” The bra comes off too, and you’re left looking at two very convincing arguments to keep going.

Then she’s coming back down to your cock, giving you these lazy licks, cleaning you up, taking care of you. You consider it the third argument, your cock stirring, twitching back upwards.

“Come on, Romeo. My tits still need to be fucked.” She says, cupping said breasts, giving them a good squeeze. She leans down, letting a trickle of her spit fall down between them; You are so fucking screwed.

Somi’s pulling your hands to her tits, holding them over her hands. You already had a feel of them earlier, but God are they—she—the best you’ve ever held in your arms. 

“Relax, baby.” And she’s wrapping her perfect fucking tits around you, soft, warm, killer. “Just enjoy.”

She starts slow. Tits sliding up and down your cock, hands pressing around her chest. Yours, hers, it didn’t matter. She presses tighter, the pressure, pleasure, both increasing as every pump between them sends your already sensitive cock to another orgasm.

“Holy shit,” You groan, because it’s the only thing you can do. She has you wrapped around her finger, her tits, her tongue, which is occasionally licking your tip whenever it peaks and God, this is going to make you cum so damn fast.

“You can move, you know.” She’s even encouraging you to, letting out another glob of spit down her breasts, moving faster. “Fuck my tits, fuck them like you own them.”

And you do. You thrust up, once, experimental, and she slides down. Then another. Your hands settle on her shoulders. Another thrust. She squeezes tighter. The tempo goes faster.

“That’s it. Use my tits. Make a mess all over them. Want to feel it all in my tits, baby.” Somi’s riling you up again with all the dirty words that come out of her mouth. “Your slut wants more of your cum. Please. Please.”

Her shoulders are your lifeline, pumping faster, her tits bouncing with each stroke. She’s biting her lip, watching you—eager, hungry, devoted—fall apart under the slick, warm cushion of her breasts.

It’s all sending you closer to pumping another load onto her. Her tits, her face, her moans. It’s like you’re in a lucid dream with the way it all feels. Soft, tight, wet, it’s all too much for you, and that aching in your stomach is coming back too strong, too fast.

You’re so fucked out of your mind from earlier that your pace doesn’t last. Your rhythm stutters, and she picks up right where you left off, even faster than you did.

“Yeah, that’s it–” She’s gasping, her hot breath teasing you with every thrust. “Cum for me. Come on, baby, give me more.”

She puts her tongue back in the mix, leaning down to flick the head, and that makes you lose control.

Your hand takes a hold of her cheek as you give one last pump, hot spurts painting her chest, filling her cleavage, lining her collarbone.

Somi’s still fucking her tits on your cock, milking you for every last drop and you’re left shaking. Legs, hips, it didn’t matter. All you know is that you’re cumming for her, and her chest is your next canvas.

And when you’ve given her what she’s wanted, you’re slumping back, vision foggy, body suffering from the pleasure that Somi’s has brought before you. 

She’s grinning, giggling, laughing. Your cum’s all over her, dripping down, sticking onto her like glue, a pearl necklace fashioned over her. She’s licking the cum off her tits, scooping up the bits she can’t, having her second serving of your cum for the night.

She’s making a performance out of it, now and before, when she cleans herself up. Drawn out moans, hums, teasing little giggles. Eyes holding yours.

“So,” Somi takes a hold of your cock, lips on you once more, and it’s more painful than pleasurable this time. She’s still hungry for more and shit, you are too. Hungry for her.

“Shower?”

—

You didn’t even make it to the shower when you decided to pick her up, place her on the marble counter, pull her jeans down, and push her thong to the side. She was drenched, her pussy glistening, dripping in arousal. And you are starving.

Your mouth is on her pretty lips, tongue swiping everywhere. Teasing her slit with slow, teasing licks, fucking her entrance with your tongue, flicking her clit with your thumb. She’s trying to drown you with her juices, the taste of her so sweet and pungent.

“Keep going–fuck, right there–” She’s gasping, cursing, grinding on your mouth. Her soft thighs are wrapping around your face, pulling you deeper, nails digging into your scalp. The pleasure’s taking over her entire being, filth spewing out of her mouth.

You’re holding her thighs, forcing them apart before you start to fuck her with your fingers—two—while your tongue moves to flicking her clit. Her walls are squeezing them, tight, wet, hot.

“Oh my God,” Somi’s panting, watching you feast on her pussy, tracking the hand that gave her thigh a little slap—a warning—before you reach upwards to cup one of her tits, feeling how good it molds to your touch.

You pinch a bud just as you curl your fingers insider her, hitting her right where you know will fuck her up even more. And she does, moaning, squirming, trembling all for you.

“I’m so close–please, please, please–” Somi’s singing you praises, hips thrusting into you, wanting to chase that high that you’ve been holding her back from, edging her from achieving it.

Until you decided that she’s been a good enough girl for you and started pumping your fingers and your tongue faster. You grope her breast harder, watch her fall apart for you, her voice peaking, begging. Her pussy making these filthy noises with each thrust of your fingers.

You give her tit another greedy grope, and you raise your hand to give it a rough slap. That’s enough to send her spiraling, reeling, cumming.

“Fuck–fuck–fuck–” Somi’s shaking, thighs quivering, back arching as the pleasure consumes her. You’re fucking her all throughout it, sucking her clit. She’s dripping down your fingers, your chin, the counter.

“Shit, baby–” Somi’s pushing your head off, her own resting back onto the mirror behind her. Her legs are still twitching as you stand up, caressing them. “This payback from earlier or what–”

“A guy can’t eat his girlfriend out?” You peck her lips, one of your hands reaching up to cup her tits as the other is brushing up the inside of her thighs.

“Make that two and a half then.” She chuckles, and for a second there her eyes had this loving glint, layered with the normal teasing gleam in them.

“Now, seriously. Shower and then we make it three.”

—

“Cumming!”

Somi’s wrapping her legs around your waist, back against the glass, pussy tightening around your cock. Her chocolate hair is sticking on her face, wet from the warm water that was falling around your bodies.

Her toes are curling as you pound her throughout her orgasm, her arms pulling you tighter, moaning profanities into your ear while you readjust your grip on her ass and give her slow, deep thrusts to keep you from slipping under the tiles.

“Harder–fuck–fuck me harder–” Her pussy’s gushing around you, thighs shaking, holding onto you for dear life as you slowly start to thrust faster. “Want, want your cum inside–shit–”

You grunt as her nails start to dig into your back, burying your face into her neck, biting hard enough to leave marks. She whimpers, legs locking around you, pussy somehow squeezing you tighter, and it’s getting to you.

Her soft, big tits pressed against your chest, her sighs directly reverberating into your ears combined with the sound of wet flesh slapping together, pussy clenching everytime you hit her g-spot.

It’s making you want to go faster, harder, deeper. You’re getting desperate to chase your high, all because of Somi. 

“‘M close.” You groan just as she cries out, her pussy pulsing, another climax approaching her body. She pulls away from your neck to press her lips against yours—needy, loving moans humming out of her as she tangles her fingers into her hair.

And that was all it took to make you cum, slamming into her, spilling your cum deep inside, the ecstasy crashing over your body as you lean forward to have the shower glass support the both of you. 

Somi’s shaking, milking you of every drop, screams echoing around the bathroom as she experiences another wave of pleasure rippling her entire body. 

The sound of water falling and breathing is the only thing left filling the air, the both of you clinging to each other to bask in the afterglow.

“Fuck, Romeo.” She giggles, forehead pressing against yours. “First you go down on me, now this?”

“What can I say,” You nuzzle back into her neck, leaving a kiss over one of the hickeys you’ve left her. “You got me all worked up back on the couch.”

And she laughs, head tilting back, and even with the water blinding you she looks so beautiful.

—

Your hands were busy groping her soft, full ass when she straddles you, back facing your chest as she rubs her pussy on your length before she eases herself down. She’s taking all of you, pussy dripping, heat wrapping around.

“God, this cock,” She sighs, arching her back. “Still so hard for me.”

You’re loving the way her pussy’s clenching around you, taking your length every time Somi bounced that tight ass of hers. Your hold on her ass tightens when she starts to pick up speed, that rhythmic sound of skin hitting skin starting to permeate the air.

It’s a symphony of moans spilling out of lips, creaks of the bed underneath you, and wet slicks of her pussy gripping your cock playing in the room, and you had the best view in the house when she starts to roll her hips like that.

“Babe, what–what the fuck–” The next few seconds were spent spouting out the dumbest shit you’ve ever said in your life, because the moment she leaned forward and popped her ass out even more to fuck herself on your cock you were losing mental capacity by the second.

“Want it slow?” She slows down and turns her head to look at you. It’s torture hidden in paradise, the pace she’s bouncing almost stopping to a crawl. “Or fast?”

“Whatever you want, just, you–” You can’t help but crash your hand down on her ass, the smack rippling the air. Somi takes it the wrong—or right, who gives a fuck—way and starts to ride you, picking up right where she left off; Ruining you.

She’s unrelenting now, fucking herself on your cock, that hypnotizing ripple of her ass staring back at you, drawing you in, drowning you. From the way she’s moving her hips, hitting every deep spot inside her on every drop of her ass, the curses that she’s singing; It’s all so fucking devilishly heavenly.

Hands grip the sheets, holding on for dear life as she’s getting more and more unhinged with how she’s slamming down on you. One of them reaches up to her ass, that goddamn ass that looks so fuckable, you can’t stop yourself from sliding your thumb over her asshole.

“Y-Yeah?” She’s too lost in her own pleasure to give out any sort of decent reply, her voice coming out as whimpers and moans and cries of pleasure in between all of it. “Want, want my ass again don’t you Romeo–”

You push your finger in the entrance, and she starts to break.

“Oh shit–” She gets impossibly tight as she starts convulsing, toes curling, body falling, hips still fucking fucking. One last slam of her ass and she’s lost it, moans, whimpers, screams; All in a span of a few moments.

You take it as a sign to move. Leave another slap on her ass as you sit upright and pull her towards you, falling back down as you start to fuck her, chasing after your own orgasm, the want to give another coating of your load inside of her growing higher and higher.

Hands grab everywhere; Her tight stomach, heavy tits, her neck. You’re not letting her rest after her climax as you give her neck a little squeeze, her cunt clenching around you, and that makes you see stars.

She’s coming with you when she’s pulled for a kiss, sloppy and needy and so adoring. Tongues are fighting when you’re buried deep inside her, taking every single drop of hot white cum. She’s groaning, feeling all of you pour into her.

And when it ends, you’re both catching your breath, 

“You might end up killing me tonight.” She mutters, leaving these little pecks and kisses over your jaw, your cheeks, your lips.

“You’ll do me in first.” You reply, hands coming back down to wrap around her waist as you pull out, feeling your spunk leak out onto the sheets.

She giggles like she always does, leaving another kiss on your lips, cheeks flushing from uttering the next words that come out of her. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Somi.” You grin. Two simple words and you’re getting all giddy again. “Love you too.”

—

You two didn’t really stop.

There were breaks in between, of course. Get a glass of water, have short cuddly moments, make out sessions before she pulls you into another round. Or vice versa.

It’s a back and forth, really.

She drags you outside to rail her in the balcony, the cool air hitting the both of you as the view of the beach greets you. Somi’s loud, uncaring of the nearby rooms as you pump her cunt full of another load.

You have her head dangling off the side of the bed, fucking her face, lodging your cock down her throat. Spit’s running down her face as she takes every inch of you, trying—and failing—to finger herself in time with your thrusts while you’re holding onto her tits until she can drink all of the cum that you’ll inevitably feed her.

Somi’s shoving you back down the couch, cock up her ass as she rides you. Her tits are fucking hypnotizing, and you’re latching onto one of her buds, sucking, swirling, nipping. She’s crying out, shoving you deeper into her cleavage as you fill her ass.

You’re fucking her on top of the table, her back scraping the wood. She’s pulling your hands to her tits, giving one of them a slap before pinching her hard nub, another staying down to rub her clit. You leave a kiss on her forehead as you cum together.

She’s on top of you again—on the bed this time—as she grinds her hips, her walls gripping, pulsing around your cock. She took it slow, deliberate, teasing, enjoying how much you’re squirming underneath her. Her nubs are brushing against your chest as she locks lips with yours, all tongue, until your legs lock up and you’re cumming inside her.

The hotel was a complete mess by the time you two were done.

You ended up back on the bed, the both of you spent. Your cock is aching from the amount of times you came in the last few (How long were you two fucking?) hours while her cunt’s leaking all the cum you’ve dumped inside of her.

Somi’s draping an arm over your chest, her fingers tracing shapes on your skin. That ring you gave her never came off the entire night.

“Nine’s a hell of a record.” She smiles, curling up to you, breathing heavy from all the activities. “Best night of my life.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, playing with her hair. “Tell that to my dick.”

“I don’t hear you complaining.” She slaps your chest, light, teasing. “You loved it.”

“You’re not wrong.” You leave a kiss on her forehead. “I do.”

“Love you too.” She smiles, reaching up to give you a kiss. She’s warm, that tingly feeling rising out of your stomach. You’re both grinning into the kiss, slow, deep, hands cupping her face, hers resting on your chest.

The next few minutes were spent talking about the random things that crossed your minds.

Shit like showers—

“We’re gonna need another shower.” 

“I’m too sore.”

“I can probably carry–”

“...I take it back. I can’t move either.”

Getting Aeri back for ratting you out—

“You seriously think Aeri would hook up with him of all people?”

“I mean, they kinda already did.”

“What the hell, since when?”

“The night after they fucked–”

“Don’t be a smartass, Romeo.”

The plans tomorrow—

“We’re hitting the beach tomorrow.”

“You just want to see me in a bikini.”

“And maybe dunk you in the water. But yeah. Bikini.”

Somi being a lovingly clingy idiot for the first time—

“Love me.”

“I am loving you.”

“You’re not doing it enough.”

It was dumb, pointless, and sorta ironic. From the quiet moments that you wanted and the copious amounts of sex you tried to avoid, it felt oddly worth it.

And it was just the first day. You don’t know whether you should be jumping for joy or scared for your life.

But you can’t say that you can ask for anything else—

“Wanna have another go to round it up?”

“Somi–”

Now, if there is such a word that combines happiness and fear, that would be what you’re feeling right now.

Still worth it.

[seumyo]

thinking about the aftermath of the final war with bakugou.

It’s more often that you and Bakugou are the only ones left in the dorms after the war. The others chose to go back to their homes when the school’s implementation of mandatory dorm living lifted, and some decided to stay a little longer.

“Taste this.”

Bakugou raised a brow but didn’t protest as you walked over, spooning some curry towards his mouth. With a slight huff, he leaned forward, lips parting just enough to take the spoon. The moment it hit his tongue, his nose scrunched slightly.

“Careful, it’s still a bit hot.”

“Mild,” he muttered after swallowing. “You could barely even taste the richness of the sauce, too.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, frowning. “Are you serious? I followed your recipe.”

“Still mild; you brought shame to my recipe.”

You gave him an unimpressed look before turning back on the pot. “Wow, then maybe you should’ve been the one cooking here. I’m gonna check what went wrong.”

“I would if I could, dipshit.”

“Just get over here and check, too.”

“Nuh-uh. You said you’d cook tonight.”

“And you’re the one who keeps on complaining that I didn’t do your recipe justice!”

“That’s a fact.”

“Starve.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he went back to his writing practice, but there was something in his expression—something almost amused.

-

Bakugou sat by his study desk, his left hand gripping a pen tightly as he tried to force his stubborn fingers into writing something readable. His handwriting had always been sharp and textbook-pristine penmanship that you could mistake it for being printed, but now, with his right hand still recovering, it looked… awful.

You sat a good distance next to him, watching with an unreadable expression.

“Oi,” Bakugou grunted, not looking up. “The hell are you staring at?”

“Your letters look like a baby bird scratched them out,” you said bluntly, not even bothering to hold back on your words.

He clicked his tongue. “Like I don’t already know that.”

You reached over, grabbing his notebook before he could protest, flipping back to his first attempts from a few weeks ago. The letters were uneven, practically illegible. Then you held it up next to his latest attempt.

“See? You’re getting better.” You turned the notebook toward him. “You can actually read this one.”

He scoffed but didn’t deny it. Instead, he reached for the notebook, but you yanked it away at the last second, grinning.

“You don’t get this back until you admit I’m a good teacher.”

Bakugou glared at you, debating whether this was worth a fight. Finally, he sighed, leaning back against the chair.

“Fine. You’re not the worst teacher.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Don’t get too cocky.”

“Me? Never. That’s more of a you thing and not a me thing.”

“Like hell it’s only me.”

You laughed. “Let’s try numbers this time; I even bought a tracing book.”

“That shit’s for kids,” he scoffed.

“It says three and up,” you argued. “You’re three and up, are you not? And—who knows? Maybe after this you’ll be ambidextrous.”

“Shut up.”

-

“Run.”

That was the only warning before Bakugou grabbed your wrist and bolted.

The sound of rapid footsteps and excited squeals filled the hall behind you. A group of first-year girls was hot on your trail, giddy with the thrill of chasing UA’s most popular second-year student.

“Why the hell do they keep following me?!” Bakugou barked as you rounded a corner, his grip still firm on your wrist.

“Because you’re literally their idol,” you said between breaths, peeking to see as the girls went the opposite direction. “They see you as some kind of bad boy heartthrob ever since the Sports Festival. It’s kinda cute.”

“It’s not cute—it’s annoying!”

You found an empty classroom and slammed the door shut. Both of you stood there, panting. Outside, the sounds of giggling and footsteps faded down the hall, the first-years continuing their search elsewhere.

You let out a breath and leaned against a desk. “Could be worse. They could be chasing you with cameras like the paparazzi did.”

Bakugou groaned, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “Don’t even joke about that.”

You nudged his shoulder, smiling. “You didn’t have to drag me with you, y’know? Or is this an excuse to be alone in a room with me?”

He glared at you, opening his mouth to argue—but then he caught the teasing glint in your eyes and scoffed, shaking his head.

“Fucking idiot. You’d get trampled over by that mob.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll tell Iida to see if he can scout the area to make sure no one’s going to jump at us when we leave.”

You laughed, and despite himself, Bakugou didn’t find it all that annoying. He actually found it... familiar and worth something he can’t put into words.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[writersrkive]

Don't shut up | Spencer Reid

summary: Spencer is used to people who constantly tell him to shut up, but somehow, he feels even more embarrassed and sad when he thinks you want him to stop talking after looking at the tired and confused expression you have when he's trying to help you. The thing is you hate when people do that to Spence and would spend years just listening to his voice.

genre: fluff

pairing: Early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: mentions of the team shutting Spencer down. Derek and JJ being a little mean to him when he's spreading information. Spencer being a cutie potato. Mention of a stomachache and its causes (mention of miscarriage as one of the causes, but nothing happens). Reader not being a native english speaker, but just a slight mention.

a/n: Dr. Spencer Reid is a genius.... I am not. I literally had to search for information and copy-paste here in some parts, so if there's misinformation, it's Google's fault, lmao. I wrote this yesterday when I was about to sleep, so I'm sorry if something is wrong with the writing (even though I already edited). English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

Spencer and you arrived early that morning. He hated being late for anything. He couldn't afford to be late if he wanted to stick as closely as possible to his assigned schedule, especially because he took public transport. On the other hand, you had no choice but to arrive early when you woke up at four in the morning thanks to a severe stomachache and couldn't go back to sleep.

That's how your conversation started. Your genius workmate was surprised to see you, first hour in the morning, when he walked in the office, even before Hotch arrived.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. You couldn't deny that the expression was too cute for your own good.

“Yeah… I think so. It's not even the stomach ache that bothers me, it's the fact that even if I was sleepy, I couldn't fall asleep again. You know? That happens to me a lot. Once I open my eyes, I can't go back to sleep. I've also been feeling mildly unwell for a week, but even though the medication is controlling it, it doesn't stop."

At this point, he already set up his desk, leaving his briefcase on his own chair to walk over to you and sit at your desk, next to the chair you were sitting in, to listen to you attentively and answer.

“The brain works with different phases of sleep: light sleep, deep sleep, and REM sleep. The cycle usually restarts every eighty to one hundred minutes, and we typically have four to six cycles each night.”

Hotch came out of the elevator and walked upstairs after both of you waved at him, and he let out a soft “good morning”. Emily arrived a few seconds later. You greeted her too, as she took place on her desk, but that didn't stop your conversation.

“So, it's completely normal that we wake up in the middle of the night because of that process, but if it is frequent, for three months or more, it may be a symptom of insomnia.”

Your view went to the floor, and your head nodded in a semi-unconscious movement, because although you knew that your sleep cycle was ruined by work, you had not come to that conclusion, maybe that was it.

“Now, the stomachache…” He said, taking one pen from your pencil case to concentrate. He usually never took other people's belongings or shared his own stuff because of the germs, but somehow, after a few years of working together, he had come to have a good amount of closeness with you to borrow some stuff from you. Months ago, it hadn't gone unnoticed by Penelope that Spencer had a box full of pens reserved for you, in case you needed one, nor the fact that he denied JJ one of them once, when the blonde girl needed something to write with quickly.

“The causes can be the most common, such as gas, indigestion, a muscle injury, or stress. Although there are also more serious causes: gastrointestinal infections, inflammatory bowel disease, irritable bowel syndrome, ectopic pregnancy or miscarriage..."

“Wow, what are you trying to do? Scare her?” Derek's voice invaded the place and Emily smirked.

“What? No, I'm just saying the possibilities…” Spencer whispered, looking down, a little worried that he might actually scared the person he cared more, besides his mom.

“It's okay.” You answer loud enough so your friends and coworkers would hear. “Thanks, Spence. I already went to the doctor, so I have none of… those.” I gave him a little smile. “But about stress…” The sentence hung in the air, so Spencer looked up and continued speaking automatically.

“Stress can cause stomach pain because the autonomic nervous system of the gastrointestinal tract reacts to the same hormones and neurotransmitters as the brain. This is because the digestive system is connected to the nervous system, and the enteric nervous system, which is located in the digestive system, is able to send and receive impulses and assimilate emotions.” He started to talk faster.

Your focus on the genius boy and his explanation was sincere, but maybe it was the fact that you didn't rest well, plus the fact that he was speaking too fast and not vocalizing all the syllables, that for a moment your brain didn't process what he was saying.

It was weird. At some point you didn't even hear words, just sounds from his mouth. That didn't happen to you for a really long time because you already had experience with the native speakers, even if english wasn't your mother language. The exhausting feeling of not being able to sleep well was definitely to blame.

While your brain was coming to that conclusion, Spencer could only see your furrowed brow, tense jaw, tilted head, and dissociated look.

“You want me to shut up, right?” That whisper was enough for you to come back to reality. His cheeks were red and his eyes looked a little sad, not to mention the way his mouth formed a line like whenever he felt awkward.

“Yes, please!” Derek answered instead, leaning back in his seat and looking up with his arms outstretched as if he'd had to deal with seven unsubs in the five minutes he'd been there, listening from his place to the information Spencer was giving you.

“Little genius boy got excited… again.” JJ said, looking at some documents in front of her, opening her eyes wide in an expression of tiredness and disinterest.

The young profiler stood up from your desk thinking about returning to his chair, a little embarrassed, but you took his pinky with yours —that way you wouldn't make him feel uncomfortable in case he wasn't in the mood for physical touch, something he refused unless it was you. Again, another special treat—. “Wait. It wasn't like that.” Hazel eyes looked at you intently, still with a bit of doubt. “I'm sorry Spencer. Yes, you got excited, but that's not something bad.”

“It isn't?” He questioned.

“No, but you started to speak fast, and the fact that there are some words that I have a hard time processing in English and I couldn't quite catch what you were saying because I didn't sleep enough, well, that distracted me. Would you mind repeating it again, slower?” This time, you were the one with warm cheeks.

“Oh. Are you sure you don't want me to shut up?” The boy was actually intrigued and a little surprised.

“Why would I want that?” The fact that your teammates often shut Spencer up when he tried to share extra information, or information that he had been asked about, was something you had noticed from the moment you started working with the team. You thought that was rude. You understood that sometimes Spencer got excited, gave information that was perhaps better saved for another time since you were investigating a case, or people could be tired and want silence, but the team either silenced him or made fun of him most of the time. Plus, there weren't many other things you liked more than hearing his voice.

The sweet, soothing tone of his words helped you sleep on the jet after a long case, or made you want to hear more about whatever he was talking about. Feeling like he was sharing with you, a mere mortal, some of the vast knowledge he had was nice.

“I'm always happy to hear whatever you need to say, even if it's about something I don't understand. And, right now, you are helping me a lot, so, please, don't shut up.” The crimson color returned to the tall boy's face, this time not because he was uncomfortable. Your kind and somewhat complicit smile made his heart race, like almost every time he was with you. Spencer knew that no matter how tired he got, he would never shut up if you wanted him to keep talking.

[livelaughlovesubs]

~ O2.10 - (hsr) Blade ~

Dom!reader x sub!blade - reader is gender neutral

Warning: yan!reader, NTR (?), fingering, pegging (I use dick), anal play, double penetration, marking, biting, hair pulling, sex toys, cumming untouched, teasing, dirty talk (?), bondage, dacryphilia, mind break, sub-space, obsessiveness (mention of wanting to lock him up etc.)

~ Word count: 6.8k ~

Nini!rant: I felt like a pervert writing this, also why the unnecessary drama?!

Kinktober list 2024

You really shouldn’t be mad. Of course, you were understanding and patient with him, damn it, you really were. Well, you out of everyone knew best what he was like. Cold, distant, and quiet, that icy demeanor of his wasn’t only for show. He didn’t like expressing his emotions too excessively or catching a lot of attention.

Also, work comes first, every time with no fail. Normally you didn’t mind it at all, because you adored him nonetheless. All of that wasn’t off-putting, it was what you loved about him. No matter how compliant you are with him, he’d still hurt you sometimes without noticing. You knew he never meant to do it on purpose, but you wished he was a little more considerate. If only he understood your perspective a little more. 

Today was different though, in the fact that you had enough. This time you were fed up with him, to the point you could feel your blood boil. For example, you reached out for his hand, obviously because you wanted to hold it. To your dismay, he immediately shook off your touch and avoided your eyes. Was it because Silver Wolf and Kafka were also there? Sure, He wasn’t one to enjoy showing public affection, yet his reaction was too much. If one didn’t know the whole truth they’d think he disliked you, you were a little offended by it.

On the same day but later, Kafka teased blade about how much you loved him since you always looked out for your dear partner. Instead of agreeing with her, maybe even complimenting you (not that you expected him to do so), he answered with, “I can only wait til the day we separate.”

It was an accident that you heard them, you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But, what kind of answer is that?! Could this be his way of telling you he wants to break up? And the damn reason is what, because you like him too much? Your break up is not something he can decide. In the end, you couldn’t keep your frustrations and anger under control. Were you the only one who cherished this relationship?

You were understanding, really, but you had a limit as well.

Loud stomping sounds echoed through the halls, your presence was soon made known to everyone. Honestly, you couldn’t care less about being noisy right now. Without wasting any time, you walked over to him, just to grab his wrist and drag him along. One didn’t need to be a genius to guess you were furious, even someone with low emotional intelligence like him knew.

He decided it would be the smarter move to follow obediently. To be fair he always let you do whatever you wanted, because he didn’t want to hurt you. What if he pushed you away, causing you to trip because he couldn't control his strength? That man thought of his own power as something destructive and despicable, with the mindset that he was no better than a weapon.

Most of the time you were allowed to do whatever you wanted except spoiling him with affection in public.

Now that you thought about it, this was probably because he never expected your relationship to last, and he still doesn’t trust the fact that you won’t leave him or vanish out of thin air. How absurd, you wouldn't leave him even if he begs you to. Heck, not even death would be able to do you two apart. You were ready to become a parasite that lives inside him for the rest of his life, so you two won’t ever be separated. With that being said, how is he that stubborn with his mindset, still firmly believing that you would get sick of him one day.

What a naive thought. Yet that was just how Blade was, and it hurt you like a deep cut in your heart. Damn it, did he really have that little trust in you or in himself? Both options made your heart throb with sadness and sorrow. The previous anger subsided and bitterness filled your senses at the realisation. It was as if everything you thought you had built with him, achieved during all that time meant nothing. Like a fleeting memory, worth as much as a cloud in the sky. You couldn't wrap your head around how he can let you go so easily.

What to do, what to do... You’ve brought him to your room to nag him, but now you weren’t even angry anymore. Only staring at him with a familiar pity in your eyes. One that he has never seen on anyone's face when they interact with him except yours. Whenever you pulled that expression, Blade would ponder over what kind of thoughts were running through your head. Fury? Despair? Or emptiness? If only he could ease your burden and guilt only a little, he'd be willing to do whatever it takes. Maybe you two were never meant to be. Was there anything you could have done to prevent this outcome?

Blade too knew what got you acting up, he had a pretty accurate guess. You probably overheard his conversation with his fellow colleagues, which wasn’t meant for your ears. He wondered how much you heard, a glimmer of hope prayed that today will be the day you end things. He wanted you to break up with him first, so you can save more face and leave without regrets. Instead of keeping silent like always, he took the initiative this time. The boy took a deep breath first, then asked, “So you know?” Somehow it wasn’t akin to a question, more like a confirmation.

Anyone else would think he was being emotionless again, due to how he kept a nonchalant expression even during such situations. Or how his voice had that usual carefree undertone. Yet you knew. You were certain he was frustrated too. You knew him better than anyone, better than he himself. Every single one of his features, habits, and actions, you’ve got it all mesmerized and stuck in your head like a curse. If someone said he wasn’t expressive, you were ready to defend him like the best lawyer out there.

“I won’t break up with you.” You said immediately, getting straight to the point and making yourself clear. “I’d never do that, even if you don’t like me anymore.” Maybe you were a little clingy, or even possessive. Even so, you tried your best to accommodate your own desires to fit into his comfort zone. You've done so much for him, no one loves him more than you, so it’s fine to be egoistic right? “You should, I can’t return the things you give me.” He advised you, now acknowledging your efforts.

Bright red eyes reflecting the colors of a destructive fire stared right into yours, the flame was wild and uncontrolled like always. “You can’t decide that for me, I won't allow you to end our relationship so easily.” You stood by your point, not afraid to keep the eye contact with him. There was just no way you’d let him go, he needs you, and he loves you. Not to mention you do too, so what more did he need?

As if something inside you snapped, you asked him in an almost desperate tone, “What more conditions do I have to fulfil for you to stay? And who will comfort you if not me, who will care for your health if i’m not here?” Your voice was on the edge of breaking, it reflected your inner emotions very well. You couldn’t afford for him to leave. Blade sighed, he growled a little as he spoke, “it’s not about you, it’s me. I’m a sinner, and I still have a price to pay. I don't want to cling to the realm of the living any longer, I don’t deserve it, the only salvation I seek is death.”

You countered him almost immediately, speaking in a slightly more aggressive manner now, “I’m not dating you only because of you, I want it too. I don't care about your past or future destiny, I want to stay with you, in this fleeting moment, in this forsaken universe, and I don’t want anyone else.” Why were you this determined, that's so annoying. There were so many better candidates besides him, who aren’t condemned convicts and have brighter futures! Can’t you see he’s doing it for your sake? Slowly you were getting on his nerves.

A moment of silence broke out, both of you didn’t dare utter a single word. You didn’t want to break the ice first, and neither did he. After a good minute, you couldn’t stand it anymore, it was even more awkward just standing there glaring at each other. Which is why you walked up to him until you were right in front of the male, “answer me, and only this question with no strings attached. Do you- no, did you not like our relationship?”

The fury you previously held returned, now eating away at you even more viciously than before. Blade took his sweet time answering him, both of you knew the truth anyway. “I never said that,” the male those to stay as neutral as possible. To admit he actually wants to continue this path of hardship and suffering wouldn’t help him out of this situation. “I said answer my question only.” You reinforced your point, trying to pressure a response out of him.

He sighed, bawling his hands into fists as he replied, “I regret not being able to be the partner you wished for me to be.” Suddenly you grabbed his shoulders, shaking him roughly, “that’s not what I asked for!” Despite you sounding so angry you could explode at him, blade noticed the underlying fear and frustration in your voice. “What does my answer change? It doesn’t make me less unsuitable for you.”

“So what? Why can’t we stay together? It’s not like you are in prison! No— never mind, don’t answer me. I know you won’t change your opinion even if this continues.” You stopped squeezing his shoulders as if he would disappear if you didn’t, but you didn’t let go of him. Then you uttered under your breath, “I’ll have to make you stay in a different way then…”

He didn’t quite get what you meant by that, but he also didn’t get the chance to ask. Blade frowned at your ignorance. Don’t you know just how dangerous he is? How stupid does one have to be, to stay this close to someone bathing in blood like him? It’s not that he enjoyed arguing with you, all he wished for was your safety and happiness. He didn't think you could achieve that while being with him.

Every time he came back from a mission, the worried and bitter look on your face would hurt more than any wound he gets on the battlefield. That look you bore would follow him to his nightmares, ripping him off any shred of sleep he could have gotten. Your smile would also drop instantly whenever you saw blood dripping from his body, even if it wasn’t his. Isn’t this proof enough that you should leave? You were clearly scared of him.

At that moment, he lost himself in his thoughts, but you quickly snapped him out of it. All due to a rough push that caused him trip backward and crash onto your bed. He immediately tried to sit up because of his reflexes, since he can’t stay in a vulnerable position during battle for all too long. Though this time you were faster, trapping him between your arms without any exits. Blade stared up at you, his voice caught in his throat. Something about your vibe told him this was not normal, or at least not your gentle self he was used to.

With a cold commanding voice, you said, “strip, blade.” Your voice was so different. The tone was harsh and somewhat unsettling, he knew it wasn’t a suggestion but an order. Without questioning your actions too much, he followed your words as always. First his jacket, then his pants. Underneath his top, he wore nothing but bandages that were wrapped around his torso. Huge battle scars covered his body, proof of his countless fights and victories.

You stared at his scars very intensely. He almost thought you were thrown off by them or maybe even disturbed, if not for your next moves proving him wrong. Since you suddenly started groping his body, touching him all over with your hands. Chest, belly, and waist, all of it while not leaving a single spot untouched.

The face he pulled was almost funny. Poor boy looked so confused yet also slightly embarrassed, were you implying that you didn’t care about those hideous marks? As if you could read his mind, you commented, “your scars are nice, I like them.” He wasn’t ashamed of them, since they were his trophies, his achievements, yet calling them pretty was a white lie. At least that’s what he thought, until you changed his view on them.

To his surprise, you started kissing those scars and licking them, before you eventually left new marks behind. It ranged from bites to hickeys. Some spots were fortunate and only had red dots, other parts were less lucky and are now plagued with bruises. It almost looked like he just went to a battlefield with a beast.

Honestly? For someone who’s basically the definition of fighting, he had surprisingly delicate skin.

Despite how bold you seemed, making a move on him like that, you were actually struggling internally. What could you do to make him abandon those useless thoughts, to make him tied to you forever? It has to be something you haven’t tried yet, and it has to make him go crazy. Otherwise, you will end up in a situation like today again. Then a pretty unholy thought crossed your mind, one that made you smirk to yourself. If you made him into a sex-drunk slut, maybe he'd be dependent on you? Haha, what a joke. No way in hell that dumb idea could work. But... it wouldn't hurt to try…?

“Mhmm… uhnng- hah, haa…” In the meantime blade furrowed his brows, throwing a hand over his mouth to muffle his whimpers. You weren’t playing today, attacking his sensitive spot from the get-go. Fingertips brushed over his chest, all the way to his pelvis, stopping right above where he wanted you the most. “Tsk.” The now seemingly annoyed male clicked his tongue at your playful antics, avoiding eye contact due to his own embarrassment. How did things escalate to this anyway? Weren’t you two just arguing? Today was supposed to be the day he ended it all. Yet here he was, adding more sins to his record.

Just as he decided to indulge himself once more, you stopped. To his surprise you pulled away from him, standing up to grab some tools you’ll need for your plan, leaving him all alone on the bed. Well, this was awkward now. Him, sitting all nude on your mattress while you were fully dressed, fumbling with your drawer. Talk about ruining the mood, were you trying to tease him, or to torment him?

After a short while you came back holding a few toys as well as a bottle of lube. There were so many different things to choose from. Out of nowhere aa thought crossed his mind, could it be that you were going to use him as a stress relief? Somehow his cheeks flushed at the possibility, having you treat him like an object would be better than with care and adoration.

On your way back you noticed a certain crimson fabric lying around on the ground, hidden beneath all the other layers. It was the ribbon that was usually tied around his back. You picked it up with your free hand, or the hand with less stuff to carry, and then threw all of the tools onto the mattress. A fully developed blush covered his cheeks now, he was also fully erect.

What a naughty boy, all hard already with such a desperate look in his eyes. Did the sight of these toys finally ring a bell? You couldn’t mask your excitement behind an angry facade anymore. No matter how much he hurts you, everything is alright again the moment you remember just how gorgeous your pretty boy is. Are you too easy? Yes. Do you give a damn? Heck no.

“Stay still.” You told him as you held his wrists together, slowly binding them behind his back. To do that, you had to flip him over first. Now he was kneeling, holding his ass up high in the air. His muscles immediately tensed, not because of you tying him up, but due to the humiliation he felt in that moment. This position was really shameful, yet he couldn’t help but get excited.

Exposing himself like this, how it brought forth shameless memories. The rope you used was unexpectedly long, so you had to tie it into a bow for it to stay out of the way. It looked really adorable actually. Him, all vulnerable and at your mercy with no possibility to escape. Oh, how you wished you could just tie him up and never let him go. Sadly, he was too strong and would be able to break free from any kind of restraint. What a shame, wasn’t it?

You pressed down on his shoulder to make him arch his back further, earning a small gasp from the male. He couldn’t see or guess what you were doing since you were behind him, so he was being very cautious. Focussing on every rustle and movement he could sense, which also led to him being extra sensitive. Being on such high alert has its on advantages and weaknesses.

That was the reason why he twitched at every contact you created with him. Ever since he started seeing you, he has not only cursed his immortality but also his sensitivity which seems to multiply with each day he spends within your care. Did you feed him anything funny or how was it even possible?

You on the other hand were admiring his toned body, he looked like a sculpture with how perfect he was. Porcelain skin paired with the scars you have caressed already, hickeys and bites all over his frame as well as the faint blush clouding his face. The red ribbon wrapped around him like some accessories was a nice contrast to his pale complexion, or his back muscles that always make you go feral over him. This man was such a fine piece of art; does he really not know? Sometimes you wondered if he was just acting. It only he himself knew what a gem he was.

After finally snapping back to reality, you squeezed his butt cheek with one hand, spreading it slightly to reveal his pink hole. Then using the other hand to squish the bottle of lube, watching the contents drop and drip down his body. First his entrance, then his balls, all the way to his thighs. “Hnng- give me a head up next time..” The coldness of the liquid caught him a little off guard, earning you a yelp from the male. You didn’t even pay attention to his words, you were focused on how the lube slowly ran down his body.

This looked no different than an erotic game, everything was so perverted you almost felt shameful. He shivered a little due to the temperature of the lube was, still not used to it. Cut him some slack, alright? It was the total opposite of his burning hot skin after all. But his body temperature caused you worries as well, it was as if he had a fever. Head spinning while every inch of his body was on fire, heating up like never before.

You had to bite onto your own bottom lip to concentrate, whenever you were with him you got carried off so easily. Damn his pretty face. Really, you had to control yourself to not just force a dildo inside him here and now. Without any further delay, since your patience was on a thin line, you stuck one finger inside his ass, wriggling it around in circles.

“HmM-hngg.." A low hiss escaped him at the sudden intrusion, his rim clenched down onto you almost instantly. “Calm down, I’m preparing you for something way worse than this.” Did you really have to word it like that? This was only making him more nervous and excited. But he had to try to follow your request since it’s what you wanted from him. Even now he was acting on instincts, on the instincts you taught him, on how to be your good boy.

Blade took a few deep breaths until he inhaled and exhaled at a steady pace. After a good minute, he was ready to take more, which is why a second finger joined in soon. This time his reaction was a little less heretic. His shoulders still jumped upwards as well as him throwing his head back due to the sensations, yet that was it. You were able to split and fold him apart without any further troubles.

Eventually you changed the rubbing and trusting motions you previously used to scissoring ones, while watching him struggle not to break your restraints. What a good boy he was, only for you, the training payed off. How will you ever be able to find someone as adorable as him? His whines also picked up, and more lewd sounds of pleasure slipped from him. “Mhmm.. uhHH.!! Damn..it, haaAHH..." Gosh, he was too cute.

You swore listening to those blissful whimpers of his is erasing all your stress, as well as adding years to your lifespan. Gradually, your digits moved faster inside him, pressing against his spongy walls and making him gasp for air. You could feel his soft yet warm insides twitch around you, almost as if his body was begging for more. At this rate, he was going to cum before you get to the main part.

Which is why you stopped, pulling your fingers out of him. As soon as you took them out, his rim clenched around nothing and tensed up. A string of lube connected your fingertips with his hole, it stuck to both sides and refused to let loose. You reached for the bottle again, adding more lubricant to the already enormous amount. “HnnGh… y/n.” The way he moaned your name was so hot, he doesn’t even know just how much you adored him. Everything about him got you acting up like an animal.

Ahhh… That’s it, you couldn’t hold back anymore. On one hand, you wanted to tease him with a toy to the point he begs for you to fuck him, until he tells you how much he needs your dick. Then again you also want to pound into his puffy little hole til he’s a whiny, crying mess, who can’t stop sobbing about how amazing you feel. Until he tells you only yours can satisfy him. You wanted to make him into a slut so badly. What to do? Both options are nice, and they always give great results. Maybe first the toy, and if he begs enough the other choice? While you were still contemplating your choices, the boy distracted you.

“Hurry up.. uh-ugh... teasing me like this isn’t like you.” Blade complained, squinting his eyes while looking away. No way, he is begging you already, when all you’ve done was a little fingering? “Haha~ so needy today, aren’t you? You only show this side to me don’t you, Bladie?” You couldn't let such a fitting opportunity slip and had to tease him about it.

The blush on his face darkened again, his ears and shoulders had been infected too. Your question was met with a meek nod before silence occurred again. He only shows this side to you, only you and no one else. Heh. “My, since you like it so much.” You grabbed the silicon toy and pressed the tip against him, before slowly inserting it. Sharp gasps and groans can be heard from him, his hands clutched the sheets like his life depended on it.

“Wa-wait… y/n, y-y/n.?! It’s too su-sudden, mhmm, ah fuck..” The poor boy was gazing at you over his shoulder, his hands clenching the restrains with newfound despair. Was he really stretched enough to take something so big inside him? God.. the shame, curiosity and pleasure are mingling inside him, mixing together into a perfect blend. You always managed to make him excited and on edge, you made his life much more tolerable than before.

When the tip was inside him, he was already mewling and shaking. The deeper you penetrated him, the louder he became. At the point where you finally reach the half, he was already groaning and blabbering useless things, incoherent nonsense like, “ah, too-! MhHm, good?! oHH, ah, y/NNNnmm..!!” His moans were like blessings to your ears, the most beautiful singing that could put sirens to shame.

It didn’t take long before the entire thing was inside him, you prepared him a lot after all and you were quite generous with the lube. “Ah.. fuck, I- mhm, mo-more...” What a greedy boy, he just got what he wanted and he’s already craving more. You couldn’t help but giggle at that, cooing gently. “Shh, get used to this first.” After all that drama, you still tried to be gentle with him, to make him feel good and become dependent on you. Yet reality shows it backfired. Blade grinned a little, his feisty, kind of intimidating smirk. And it caught you off guard.

Out of nowhere, he mocked you in a snickering tone, “is- mhm, this all you’ve go-got?” He tried to taunt you, but still stumbled over his words a little. His stuttering was almost cute if it weren’t for the words he voiced out. “Huh?” You replied, seemingly annoyed now. “You said.. hah, that you’ll, ha-hnghhh… make me stay, so do- fuck..!! Do it.” What’s gotten into him, his mood just did a whole 180. Suddenly he turned into a brat? Oh how he has done it, he dug his own grave, you weren't going to be nice to such an annoying thing.

You grabbed his bottom and spread it with your hands, the dildo inserted into him was being pushed to one side. His eyes widened as if he was a deer caught in headlights, finally reaching the point of realising what he got himself into. He grit his teeth enough for you to hear, all while the ribbon started binding him to rip. Sweat was rolling down his forehead, his eyes exposed how much he loved every single second of this. Not long after, you lined your own length against him, slowly penetrating him. Now even you were amazed at how loose he was since he was able to fit two inside.

It was an act of impulse, to fill him up like that, though now you were getting into it. Just the thought of it was kind of hot, him, taking two dicks inside that adorable pink hole of his? “UgHH!! mhMM- gaAhHH!! AhHHH <3!! Too bi-big..!” Blade complained once again, his knuckles turned white with how he was clenching his fists. “Too much.., n-no!! Slower, my stomach feels so full..♡♡”

So now he’s whining about it being too much when he had been such a whore moments before, begging for more? Oh no, you weren’t going to stop now, not when he seemed to be enjoying himself so much. I mean, he was whimpering as tears collect in his eye sockets, marks from his nails forming on his palm due to the pure strength he was using. His hands weren’t on his back anymore, instead above his head and writhing away.

The way he squirmed and trashed around, desperately trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure and sensations, ahh you loved him so much! Then how about you comment on his poor, neglected cock? How it's twitching around all uselessly while dirtying your sheets? There were so many things you could do to him, and you had all the time in the world.

It took a little fighting, but you eventually bottomed out inside him. Finally fitting both of the lengthy dicks inside his soft, hot walls. “Haah, shit, you are too tight.” You growled, he didn’t know if it was a compliment or not. On the other hand there was no way you could move when he’s been stuffed full like this, the tight muscle was holding onto you for dear life. His rim squeezed you as if it would break if not. That’s when you heard sobs emerging from him, paired with the most erotic moans you’ve encountered ever.

“Oh-hmHhH!!! AhhHHhnn, fuck, fuck, fuuUckKK! Y/n, oh please..” A rough voice which used to be at least a few octaves deeper was now itching closer to the high-pitched singing of a mockingbird, alongside hiccups standing in his own way each time he opened his mouth. Simply heavenly, there were no words to describe this beautiful scenery in front of you.

And to think you were the cause of it, oh dear, he really wanted to seduce you, doesn't he?

If he really wanted to break up with you, he shouldn’t make such sounds! In the end, you had to wait quite a bit until he got somewhat used to it, so that you could move your hips slightly. Blade on the other side buried his face between your pillows, bawling his eyes out. It hurt, yet it felt so good it was mind breaking. Oh lord, he could feel himself getting stretched so much that it was almost scary.

“HnNGhh.. ahh-hic, y/n.. I feel so fu-full- damn it m’ gonna break if you continue!” Sweat rolled down his face, hair stuck to his body and his precum was everywhere. Thighs, shaft, and sheets, you name it. What a messy boy he was, so dirty, filthy and lovable. You stroked his back while he sobbed, rubbing his sacrum and spine causing him to shudder even more, just the lightest touches were enough to make him succumb to bliss and ecstasy that were otherworldly. Seriously, at this rate he was really going to break..!

Then you grabbed his hair and yanked on his locks, whispering in a soft tone again, “Bladie, you have to loosen up a little. I can barely fuck you.” “MhmMMM!! Do-don’t say it like that..! You’re embarrassing me!” Aha, so talking dirty can still earn you a loud groan from the boy, he was just as sensible as at the start of your session. If not, he only got more sensitive. You tamed him well.

The pain he felt was quickly converted into pleasure, confusing his body and tad bit. Don’t you know he’s trying his best? He’s never taken two at the same time, he could swear his butt was going to tear at any moment. Though all these tingles he felt with no end in sight, the way his nerves were being stimulated on a whole new level he couldn’t fathom, yea it was worth it.

This was pure paradise, the first paradise he got to savour. He could swear this was something normally only aeons could get to enjoy, that’s how exhilarating these emotions were. You noticed how he tried to take everything you gave him, to accommodate it and make it fit, but to no avail of course. In honour of his efforts, you added some more lube and pressed your dick deeper inside him. This time it reached his sweet spot, hitting his prostate with such accuracy it made him see the pearly gates. The boy couldn’t help but growl out loud again, “AaaAahHHH.. ♥︎♡!!! OoHh- mhMm, too deeeEEKK!!”

The way you stared at him got him breathless, it made him feel ashamed and humiliated. Letting you see all those despicable sides of him was too much, he only wanted to show you his best after all. “Do-don’t look at me.. so intensely.” Blade whined, nuzzling his face into the mattress. “Why not?” You asked him with a lewd grin, licking your lips as you admired how adorable he looked.

“I’m fi-filthy, and it’s humiliating…!” Now he’s suddenly being humble and self-conscious? When he was just teasing you moments ago? Your gaze changed into a sickly sweet one, loving, possessive even. “Don’t worry bladie, in my eyes, you are an angel.” Then you ran your fingertips over his skin again, before pulling them back to have a better grip on his body.

Every time you moved even the slightest bit, he’d let out the most intense and lewd noises ever, as if he copied them straight from a porno. The poor man was so ashamed, he didn’t know what to do. Everything you did to him felt just too damn good, he couldn’t keep himself under control. Now he was biting the soaked pillows in a pathetic attempt to muffle those sweet whimpers, shaking his ass due to his knees going weak under him. Your poor pillow.. it was wet with tears and drool, also a bit of sweat. Well, not that you even noticed.

"Fuck this is hot.” That was all you could think of in that situation. How could you think of anything but your dearest boyfriend after all? A wicked smile pestered your features while your eyes took in the view. If you had one wish, you’d wish time would stop at exactly this moment, you would have been so content. Gods, aeons, please, you needed this man so badly it was a curse. It was gnawing away at you from the inside!

The overflowing desire took over your rational mind, and you suddenly started pounding into him at a rough pace. All you wanted was more, more of him, more of his voice, more of this control you held over him. Now you were consumed by lust and greed huh? “AahHHGH?!? Y-y/nNN..! MhmMngHN...?!?” So unbelievably mean you were, rutting into him like he was some used, cheap-ass whore. As if he was nothing but your flashlight, your rag doll. He secretly loved it, but he would never tell you. Even if he was a dead men, he valued his dignity.

With one hand you grabbed his waist, with the other hand, you held the dildo to keep it in its rightful place, in case it slipped out. Damn it, you aren't leaving him any choices, are you? Not that he wanted to escape anyway. Once again your stunning little lover couldn't hold his tears back, sobbing in a meek voice about how you were too fast and too huge.

“Bi-biiiig… too mMHmm, biiiiiggg..!!” Choked out whines was all that filled the room, alongside his adorable mewling. Each time your hips snapped against his, you would create loud slapping noises that are being echoed through the room. His dick would also swing around and hit his tummy. This happened so often that strings of sticky precum connected his belly with the tip of his cock.

During your own excitement, you started babbling nonstop, repeating the same words over and over again. “Blade, fuuuck. I love you, I love you so much. Stay with me, don't leave. I love you.”

Somehow your hand found itself entangled in his long, dark blue hair again. Yanking on them like it was some makeshift leash, getting off to the sight of his pained face. How his eyes rolled back, tongue stuck out and body shaking like a weak, helpless animal. Would it be too mean and sadistic for you to say you took pleasure in him being vulnerable? He himself also couldn't form coherent sentences anymore, he has lost that skill for quite a while now. All Blade could do was scream out your name and beg for god-knows-what, while hoping you'll grant him some relief soon.

“Y/n, y/nnN! OohHH, ha-AhhNhhnN~!! Touch my di-dick too... please, oh ple-please~ mhmm...!” Right, there was still that useless yet cute little thing hanging between his legs. You hadn't touched it even once, hence why it was an angry shade of red and all swollen. Despite all that, nothing can beat how bruised up and abused his hole was. You weren’t as tender with him as you planned to, well, this was fine too.

“No way, I’m only going to fuck your pussy here.” As always, you just can't keep your mouth shut once you see his flustered and fucked out expressions, spewing one nonsense after another. "Ahh.. I'm clo-cloOohhsee <3, fuck me harder, please, y/n, please please please!!" Now he was over the moon, having already abandoned any shred of dignity he might have had beforehand.

The tears decorated his pretty face, trailing off his cheeks shone brightly. Every erotic word in the book could be heard coming from his lips, enticing you to give it your best to pound him until he gets drunk on the pleasure. He probably was already but wouldn’t hurt to keep going, right? It was also your initial plan anyway, if you hadn't lost yourself in his moans like that.

“It's alright, cum for me darling. I love you.” You reassured him, caressing his scalp now instead of tugging on it. After thinking about it for a few seconds… wouldn't this mean he is cumming untouched? This adorable but perverted bastard. Heh.

For Blade, these words of reassurance were all he needed to hear right now, that was enough to snap the final straw within him and make him finish all over the sheets. “Ah-aahHnnGHN uhNHMMM!!! Cumming- I’m cummingnnn!! <3~~!!” That was basically a scream, he was so loud, you were sure everyone on the spaceship must have heard him. All his comrades and subordinates. Somehow that made you very happy, now everyone will know your relationship is still healthy and you two have no plans of going separate ways. Not like you would have let him anyway.

If you didn't consider your bed defiled before, now you obviously do. A nice and huge load shoot out of his poor member, covering the area beneath him in white. The wet spots were overwhelming, it was so nasty that you couldn’t help but smile. As for blade, it would be an understatement to simply say he was exhausted. He was way more than just that. You basically fucked every sense of self he had out of him, turning his brain into mush that could only beg for more of your touch.

After receiving and having a taste of the Paradies on earth, he won't be able to turn back anymore. Everything was just to bind him to you forever. Well, this was fine too, if you execute everything in the right way, he won't be able to go a day without thinking about you ever again! (As if he wasn’t like that before already) His body will remember you and only you, until it can only be pleased by you. Even if you had to turn him into a cock hungry slut, you would gladly do it.

Come on, your obsession was justified! Just look at him, he's everything you ever wanted in a man, he was your only desire. Your world, your colours, your breath. If he isn’t with you, you’ll lose your mind. Then everything becomes to tasteless. What do they say again? Love changes a person.

His skin shone due to the thin layer of sweat covering his body, eyes still rolled into the back of his skull since his brain was still processing the sensations and pleasures up to this point. His orgasm and the aftermath made him so tired and battered, even after waiting for a good minute he couldn't calm down nor move a single muscle.

When you pulled out of him and took the toy out as well, his stretched entrance was gaping as if he wanted to be filled again. Then you untied his wrists, throwing the red ribbon onto the ground. Evidence of the binds and his struggles were left behind, pretty marks were around his tender wrist. You’ll need to apply some medicine later. How must he feel? Even you were a little shaken by all that tension, and you weren't even on the receiving end.

After giving him another minute to catch his breath, you deemed him conscious enough to understand your words. Without hesitation and a single ounce of shame, you whispered into his ear, "you are mine and I’m yours, bladie~ So please, stay with me, even after your immortality ends."

Tags: @ghostiegirl56 @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze @sh1-n0bu

Nini!rant 2.0:

Being a yandere irl is not hot at all, it’s creepy as heck (but in fiction I’m down for a pathetic whimpy clumsy yandere)

Yandere is a word mixed from two different ones and ordinates from Japanese. The first is ‘yanderu’, which means “to be sick,” and the second is ‘deredere’, it means smt like “lovestruck” — so yandere just describes someone who’s sickly in love, or, loves someone to the point it’s sick.

Often times they are depicted in one way only. The typical, disgusting and intimidating ones. Kidnapping their darling while threatening/ killing anyone who comes to close to them, or the potential love rivals. Due to these rather… extrem methods, yandere’s are often depicted as doms. But yandere come in all flavours, they don’t have to be just dom.

To be obsessive in love can go both ways, to want to possess the person, or to want to worship the ground they walk on. Sometimes the person doesn’t even know they were a yandere, thinking what they did was alright. There are also yandere’s that love & hate their darling, which is an interesting dynamic?

[myownwholewildworld]

what do we think about jackson!joel miller x make up sex? 👀

no because you REALLY had me thinking here, nonnie... fffffuck 😮‍💨 i was chewing my fist while writing this, i swear asdfghjkñ i hope you like it!! <3 thank you so much for sending this in!

old man!joel miller collection masterlist

tw/tags: 18+, mdni. pwp/filthy smut. breeding & pregnancy kink. public sex (someone sees you two fucking, oops). joel is a bit rough but he's trying to discipline you and fuck the anger out of you. makeup sex. creampie. implied age gap. some fluff at the end <3 reader is female but not described apart from wearing a sundress.

Joel was really testing your patience today. First, you had woken up to an empty bed, sheets cold with his absence. Not the best start to your day when you liked cuddling up in the morning, maybe getting him to bring you to a state of ecstasy so you would feel relaxed for the rest of the day. When you had gathered the strength to roll out of bed, you had tripped with his boots—mind you, they were neatly tucked away next to his nightstand, but they were still in the way.

With sleepy eyes, you had gotten to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet and almost fell into the bowl because he had left the seat up.

By that point you were fuming, so when you sauntered downstairs to the kitchen and found out the coffee had run out, you were about to fucking lose it.

Perhaps your levels of oestrogen and progesterone were fluctuating a bit too much, your mood swinging within a matter of minutes. But regardless of that, you found these little things annoying. Luckily Joel had already left for patrol, otherwise you’d have bit his head off and spat it out.

Once he had come back, you gave him the cold shoulder—not consciously, you were just not in the mood to socialise. And when you felt so edgy, it was better to be left alone. But Joel, being himself, would not let you be. He’d asked you a few times now what was wrong, but you had only shrugged, muttering a “nothing, m’just tired.”

Obviously, he hadn’t bought it. The fact that he was so attuned to you, so in sync with your body language, was both a blessing and a curse. Most of the time you didn’t need to voice what you wanted, because Joel was already on it before you opened your mouth.

Today though it was definitely a curse.

You both were in the community hall, helping to get the town ready for an early summer festivity. When the first waves of warmth arrived at Jackson and the sun kissed the streets, the town came to life beautifully. The council had proposed a barbeque, have the townsfolk gather together for some lunch and build up the community spirit.

“Sweetheart, can you pass me the salad bowl, please?” Joel interrupted your train of thought—not that you were thinking anything in particular, but it just added to your annoyance.

“Last time I checked you had hands to grab it yourself?” you snapped back, unable to rein in the words before they slipped out.

You realised your mistake when some subtle gasps rumbled around you. The rest of the people around the table pretended to not have heard your answer, but their expressions said it all.

Venturing a side glance at Joel, you saw how his brows bunched up, the crease between them deepening. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight and the vein in his neck bulging. He was mad. And probably rightfully so.

You should have apologised but instead opted to retreat. To soothe your curt reply, you gave him the bowl he had asked for.

“Gotta check the stock room, see if there are any more napkins,” you mumbled, averting your eyes, before you scurried along to the back of the hall.

With every step, you felt Joel’s eyes on you, following your every movement like a rabid dog, but you kept your back straight and chin up—it was his fault for getting you pregnant, really. It didn’t matter that you had begged him to come inside multiple times because you wanted to carry his kids—no, right now it was solely his fault.

Once in the pantry, you left the door ajar as you trudged to the back of the room. Going on your tiptoes, you tried several times to reach for the wooden box on the top shelf unsuccessfully. Grunting now, you extended your arm as much as you could, your fingertips almost grabbing the handle.

“What the fuck was that about, hm?” Joel startled you, making you jump on the spot, your heart racing wildly.

Joel’s broad hands landed on your hipbones, pushing your ass back into him while you held onto a shelf. His fingers bunched up your sundress in his fists, the hem of your attire running up your thighs.

“You got so much fucking attitude today and I don’t even know why,” he growled, his teeth nipping at your ear.

You opened your mouth to reply, but he silenced you with a stern tut.

“Right now I don’t fucking care, honestly. That was so rude. And in front of everyone?” he went on. You heard some rustling behind you but couldn’t look over your shoulder—Joel had you pinned against the shelving. “Gotta teach you some manners. But first I’mma fuck the anger out of you so we can talk like civilised adults later.”

Joel lifted the back of your sundress and then you felt it—his hard length poking at your entrance over your panties. He moved them aside, his throbbing cock skidding on your wet slit.

Your eyes darted to the ajar door in a panic, but the lust pooling low in your pussy impeded your talking.

“Yeah, door’s open. If someone comes in and sees how I’m disciplining you, then you might learn the lesson,” Joel husked in your ear, his cockhead nudging your palpitating clit.

You gasped at the intimate touch, your fingers clutching the edge of the wooden shelf with a strength you didn’t know you had. Joel’s hips slanted back, the tip of his cock dragging along your dripping seam with ease.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the resolution of your anger slowly fading away, brushed away by a few strokes of his drumming dick on your slick folds. How you melted for him so effortlessly should have been somewhat infuriating, but reality was, this was exactly what you needed.

“You’re so fucking wet, desperately leaking onto my cock like that,” Joel’s breath caressed the shell of your ear, your pussy lips snugly hugging his glans, your hole mouthing for him. “Is that it? You’re upset ‘cause I didn’t fuck you stupid this morning, hm?”

You whimpered in response, grinding your ass onto his lower tummy, adjusting your position ever so slightly so his searing cockhead would kiss your opening. Silently begging him to stuff your cunt full of him.

“Yeah, that’s fucking it. You’re so desperate for your old man,” Joel purred, all of your hairs standing up in anticipation.

And with that, Joel thrusted in sharply, burying himself down to the hilt, his fists holding your dress up while the squelching sound of your bodies meeting filled the room. You moaned at the intrusion, threads of spit wetting the corners of your mouth.

“There you go, just what you needed,” Joel gritted, kissing the curve of your neck before he pushed back, then harshly back in.

You didn’t reply, just rested your forehead on the edge of the shelf while Joel fucked you from behind, your knees shaking with the burning passion melting your insides. Your crying pussy hugged him tight, clenching around his thick girth as if she never wanted to let him go. This was where he belonged.

Every time Joel jackhammered into your weeping cunt, you saw blinding stars behind your eyelids. The tip of his dick would shyly kiss your cervix, careful not to hurt you—keeping you on the sharp blade of the pleasure knife. He filled your entire pussy, stretching your walls apart to house the whole of him, cracking you open just for his own enjoyment and amusement.

And you’d let him. Wished he’d have you just like this every waking second of your day, the pregnancy hormones having you in a constant state of animalistic heat. It probably wasn’t normal, but you didn’t care.

Rutting into you, Joel built up a punishing pace. He was fucking you so hard now, the shelf you were holding onto for dear life began rattling, the glass jars clinking and moving around. Your legs started trembling too, the sheer force of his plunges draining the energy out of your cunt while the coil inside you tightened to breaking point.

Joel’s calloused hands moved from your hips, the skirt of your sundress cascading down your body, and he placed his palms right under your swollen belly. He held your pregnant tummy up, and you suddenly felt as if a heavy weight had been taken off your lower back, an instant release coursing through your system.

You signed heavily, and Joel picked up on it.

“My poor baby, carrying all this weight by herself. You look radiantly beautiful and sexy, so perfectly round with my kid. Our kid,” he added, licking the salt of your neck—your whole skin bristled. “I’d have you be pregnant forever, so everyone knows who you belong to. Who fucks you until your brain is blown out every single day of your life. Who has your sweet tight pussy drooling everywhere.”

“Y-yes, I want that too,” you managed to speak through chattering teeth, your ass meeting his hips every time he ploughed you. “F-fuck, Joel…” you groaned, looking down to see your juices running down your inner thighs.

“Yeah, I know you do, sweetheart—wanna carry my kids, make me a daddy,” your pussy fluttered around him with the last spoken word, your sobs louder. “That’s right, darling. Make me a fucking daddy. I want you swollen with my child all year round. I’d be destroying this sweet little cunt of yours every single day so my cum takes.”

Joel was diabolical, his dirty talk hitting right on that kink of yours—you wanted him to breed you, to fuck you stupid, to fill you with his sperm. Just the thought had you wantonly moaning. All his breeding talk had you gushing, your mind filled with a relaxing, buzzing noise as all thoughts vacated the premises.

Your eyes briefly shot to the ajar door and you could have sworn you’d seen someone peeking through the crack in the door. But after blinking, the mirage was gone. Perhaps you’d just imagined it.

An imminent warm sensation flushed through your veins, your attention drifting from the door, and your inner walls clamped around him, strangling his cock as you came—the big wave of your orgasm drowning you, your wails louder than they should be considering where you were. All taut muscles in your body relaxed at once, your knees almost giving way while your racing heart calmed down and your breathing stabilised.

Joel managed to keep you upright, his hands holding your belly while his hips pinned you against the standing shelf, fucking into you maddeningly quick. You felt the pulse surging through his shaft, announcing his climax, and to help him get there faster, you clutched your spent cunt around him.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Hug me tight like that,” he groaned in your ear, breathless and agitated.

You squeezed him hard again at his command, and soon enough he gifted you a warm, fresh load of his cum, painting your womb white. Joel leaked into you in spurts, tacky ropes filling you up.

Joel kissed your neck while you unclenched, releasing him from your grasp. His cock slowly started to soften inside you and carefully Joel pulled out. With one hand still below your belly to give you some much needed comfort, his other one travelled down your front to your groin, readjusting your panties.

“You’re gonna walk around here with your sweet pussy leaking my cum, soaking your laced panties, until we get home, darling. And then I’ll give you another load, see if you’re in a better mood then,” Joel muttered.

He let go of your tummy, the weight of your growing child pulling the muscles on your lower back again. You heard him zipping up his jeans and then he gently turned you around in his embrace.

“Care to explain now what the issue was?” he asked, peppering kisses around your mouth, but not on your lips.

You pouted, draping your arms around his neck.

“You left without saying goodbye, without… you know,” you whispered, pecking his jawline.

Joel laughed, a hearty one that filled you with joy and made you smile. “Without fucking you. Won’t happen again. Noted. Anything else?”

“I tripped with your boots,” you saw him opening his mouth to retort back, but you silenced him with a quick kiss. “I know, I know. They were tucked away. I still tripped anyway. Then I went to the toilet and the seat was up. I almost got my ass wet when I went to pee. And thinking it couldn’t get any worse than that… I go to the kitchen to find that we’ve run out of coffee?”

Your words were not accusing, not anymore. Joel and you knew how to talk things out—even the smallest details, so there wouldn’t be anything nagging neither of you. This was one of the strongest pillars of your relationship, and you loved being able to openly talk to him about absolutely anything.

“I see. I’ve been an ass today. M’sorry, sweetheart,” his apology was heartfelt, the guilt in his eyes evident.

You smiled at him, your fingers tracing the edge of his jawline.

“It’s okay. I forgive you, baby,” you mumbled lovingly.

You searched for his mouth and melted into a slow-paced, open-mouthed kiss that left you breathless. You had to pause to collect your thoughts when the kiss came to an end, Joel pecking the tip of your nose.

“What did you come here to get? We can’t leave empty-handed,” Joel joked, and you giggled before intertwining your fingers with his.

“The napkins. Can you grab them for me?”

[yurinaa-world]

Since you're taking requests, I would like to make one with Amphoreus men. Can I request a shy reader, (like a really shy person who probably avoids social interactions at any cost) with Phainon, Mydei and Anaxa? Thank you so muchh!! Have a good day/night

"𝓘 𝔀𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓰𝓸!"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Phainon, Anaxa, & Mydei x Gender-neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a shy reader who avoids social interactions at any cost

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: aAfluff & Spelling mistakes

💫𝒫𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓃𝑜𝓃 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑜 𝑜𝒻 𝒜𝓂𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓈"

He’s the utter opposite of you—the extreme introvert with the extravert—whenever you two go out together, people stop you both just to talk to him, only for you to stand awkwardly to the side. Maybe even moving slightly away and closer to a bench, where you don’t need to talk to anyone.

Which he notices and lets you do—while quickly trying to end the conversation—before coming to your side again and making sure not to leave you for another conversation.

There are times when you are even shy of his affections towards you. For example, when you're lying down tired, your legs feel like they’re going numb from the pain. You gasp when you feel Phainon grab one of your legs gently to massage the soles of your feet.

You tried to tell him that it wasn’t necessary and he is probably tired right now from a hard day of work, but he continued and said that he didn’t mind the slightest. Watching your cheeks turn a pink hue as your feet twitched at his touch.

💫𝑀𝓎𝒹𝑒𝒾 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒞𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒦𝓇𝑒𝓂𝓃𝑜𝓈"

He’s like your knight, protecting you from any type of social interaction you're scared of with his scary appearance and expression. Also, with the added fact that he can see you from a mile away, one because you're his lover and second, that you stick out like a sore thumb.

He can’t help but smile when the kids drag you away to play games with them, having that nervous expression on your face while you're basically begged into playing hot potato with them (Mydei will, of course, join in, to make you feel better about the whole thing).

He has a habit of teasing you with his intense gaze (sometimes without realizing it). He purposely stares you down, not in a threatening way at all, just watching you switch through staring back before averting everywhere but his face after a couple of seconds of eye contact.

Or he'll put you in the corner of a room, away from most people, having your back pressed against the wall while he stares at you with a loving gaze.

💫𝒜𝓃𝒶𝓍𝒶 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒜𝓂𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓈"

He’ll just accept you for who you are. Since you're shying away behind a pillar when you first saw him, acting all scared when he tried to talk to you. In all honesty, who wouldn’t be scared when they first meet Anaxa and his scary outer layer? 

He’s perfectly fine with your behavior, you know what? How about you two just stay home wearing your Dromas onesies and call it a day while you both drink from two cute Dromas cups and eat from your Dromas plates?

He always makes you shy on purpose, even though you’ve been together for such a long time, you still have that habit of getting shy and beginning to blush, and at times he likes to extort it out of you, just for experimental reasons, he tells himself, but deep down he likes to mess with you, with no proper reason.

If you’re trying to make a point but stumble over your words, he’ll tilt his head and say, “Take your time. I like hearing your voice,” or when you say something quiet and he actually hears you, and ends up bringing it into the conversation or answering it.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[lexiputellas]

Car Kiss

The moment your car collides with his, two things hit you harder than the airbag that just exploded in your face:

1. This was absolutely not your fault. (Technically.)

2. You did not deserve this.

For a second, everything is still. Your hands are locked around the wheel, heart pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat. The scent of burnt fabric and chemicals fills the car, the deployed airbag sagging pathetically in your lap like it just gave up on life.

Then—

"Are you fucking serious right now?!"

A voice—loud, pissed, and very much alive—cuts through your haze.

Your pulse stumbles.

Right. The other driver.

Slowly, stiffly, you peel your fingers off the wheel, every nerve in your body still humming with leftover adrenaline. The heat outside is relentless, pressing against the windshield, turning the inside of the car into an oven. Your skin feels sticky, your dress clinging uncomfortably as you try to process the disaster you just walked into.

You force yourself to move. The door groans as you push it open, and the second you step out, the sun slams into you like it's personally offended by your existence.

The man standing by the other car is fuming.

He's tall, broad, dressed in a crisp white button-down that’s now slightly wrinkled—probably from the sheer force of his frustration. His tie is loosened, his hands are on his head, and his expression is pure disbelief.

"You weren’t even looking!" he accuses, waving a hand toward the wreckage like it’s some kind of crime scene.

You inhale slowly, adjusting your sunglasses, trying to summon even a shred of calm. "Okay, first of all—let’s not jump to accusations."

His nostrils flare. "Look. At. My. Car."

You do.

And—okay. Yeah. It’s… seen better days. The bumper is hanging on by a miracle, the front crumpled in like a crushed soda can.

Then you turn to Alexia’s car.

And feel actual fear for the first time.

The front end looks exhausted. Like it’s seen things and would like to never be perceived again. The airbag is fully deployed, slumped over the steering wheel in silent, tragic judgment. The scent of burnt chemicals still lingers in the air.

You swallow hard. Maybe you should’ve just stayed home today.

"Are you even listening?!" the guy snaps, dragging a hand down his face. "You literally just crashed into me, and you’re acting like—"

"Okay, I hear you," you interrupt, forcing a smile. "I do. But, like… have you ever tried deep breathing? It’s amazing for stressful situations."

His eye twitches. "We're calling insurance."

You're already pulling out your phone. "Great idea!"

Of course, you’re not calling insurance.

You're calling her.

Alexia picks up after two rings.

"Bebé” Her voice is soft, familiar, but there’s an edge to it—like she already knows.

You hesitate.

The airbag. The crumpled hood. The fact that this isn’t even your car.

"Before I say anything," you start, voice syrupy sweet, "just know that I love you."

Silence.

Then—

"What did you do?"

You glance at the guy, who is still pacing beside his ruined car, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like legal threats.

You wince. "Hypothetically speaking, if something happened to your car—"

The silence sharpens.

"—not saying it did, but if it had a little accident—"

"Define ‘little.’"

You peek back at the scene. The wreckage. The airbag’s limp, tragic existence. The guy still looking like he’s one second away from suing you for emotional distress.

"Like… a kiss. A car kiss. Just a very unfortunate, high-speed one."

"You said you needed my car for work."

"I did. And I used it so responsibly. Except for this… one tiny—okay, medium—moment."

She exhales, long and sharp. "Is it bad?"

You hesitate. "...Define bad?"

"Is it drivable?"

"Technically."

"Is anything hanging off?"

"...Define ‘hanging.’"

"You’re actually unreal."

"It’s mostly cosmetic!" you argue. "Like, it still looks like a car! Just… also like it needs a nap. And a therapist."

"Where are you?"

"Outside work. I just parked. But the guy’s yelling about insurance and—wait, hold on—" You lower the phone. "Sir, are we exchanging info, or are you just gonna keep pacing?"

He glares. "Someone’s paying for this."

You sigh, lifting the phone back. "Ale, babe. Help."

"Send me a picture."

"...Are you sure? Wouldn’t you rather hear about it first?"

"Now."

The call ends.

You groan and snap a photo of the wreckage. Then, because you’re already in deep shit, you send another one.

Of your boobs—one of the many emergency nudes you keep saved, because honestly, who doesn’t have a backup plan?

Her reply is immediate.

Alexia:

You are actually deranged.

A few more seconds. Then—

Alexia:

I’m leaving training. Stay there.

Uh-oh.

Fifteen minutes later, an SUV pulls up fast.

Too fast.

The tires bite into the pavement, rolling to a sharp, precise stop. The door swings open, and she steps out.

And suddenly, the heat of the sun feels second to the way she carries herself.

Alexia looks dangerous in the way only someone completely in control can. She’s still in her training gear—dark compression shorts hugging her legs, a fitted Barça tee damp with sweat. Her hair is tied back, loose strands framing her face in a way that should not look as good as it does. She shuts the car door with purpose, her sharp gaze sweeping the scene like she’s assessing an opponent.

First, the damage.

Then, the guy.

Then, you.

You smile delicately, clasping your hands together like the very picture of innocence. "Hi, my love."

"Are you hurt?"

The question takes you by surprise.

You blink. "Huh?"

Her eyes soften—just barely. "Are you hurt?" she repeats.

Your stomach does something weird.

You clear your throat. "No. Just—bruised ego."

She nods once, accepting that, before turning to the guy.

"We’ll handle this through insurance," she states, her tone cool, absolute.

The guy, who had previously been full of righteous anger, suddenly looks… uncertain. "Well, yeah, obviously, but—"

"Give me your details," she cuts in, leaving zero room for argument. "The tow truck is already on its way. We’ll handle the paperwork."

You glance at your phone, realizing you missed the call she must’ve made while driving.

The guy hesitates, then sighs in defeat. "Fine."

Alexia doesn’t waste another second. She turns to you, jaw tight. "Passenger seat."

You hesitate. "I can explai—"

"Passenger. Seat."

Your stomach flips.

Something about the way she says it—calm, but final—sends a thrill through you. You don’t argue this time.

The tow truck arrives as you settle in, the driver stepping out and immediately greeting Alexia with a handshake. She’s already handling it, already making the process smooth, efficient. You watch her through the windshield, chin propped on your hand.

Eventually, she gets back in. Silence settles between you as she pulls onto the road. It lingers for a while, heavy with everything that just happened.

Inside the car, you watch her, awed despite yourself. The way she carries herself. The way people listen to her. Honestly, kind of hot for someone who’s about to yell at you.

You reach over, fingers brushing against hers on the console. Her grip loosens slightly.

"You're mad," you murmur.

She exhales through her nose. "You sent me nudes after crashing my car."

You grin. "Did it help?"

Her lips twitch—just slightly. "You're impossible."

You smile. "But you’re not mad about the boobs, right?" A pause. Then, carefully—

"You crash my car and send me nudes." She shakes her head, half in disbelief, half in something else you can’t quite place. "Honestly. Who raised you?"

You shrug. "A woman with taste."

A pause. Then, carefully—

"Your driving privileges are suspended."

You gasp. "You can’t do that."

"Watch me."

"Babe. My freedom."

She glances over, lips twitching. "I’ll think about it."

You grin, leaning in, voice low, teasing. "I can be very persuasive."

She hums, eyes still on the road but amusement curling at the edges of her mouth.

[spiderb00bs]

- MURDEROUS LOVE

Tara Carpenter x (g!p) reader  (requets) MDNI

" Tara Carpenter doesn't like Ghostfaces, but what happens if you're one of them?”  

Genre – smut        Warnings – Blood, degradation, reader is literally a murderer 

Now playing – P*RNSTAR, by Nessa Barrett 

The knife you were holding was completely stained with blood, the blood of another one of your victims. The tall guy, who was now dead on his own couch, was the same jerk who had flirted with Tara a few weeks ago. Tara wasn't your girlfriend, but there was something inside you that bubbled dangerously when some idiot like that hit on the younger Carpenter.   

You didn't understand how these assholes thought they had the slightest chance with her, they were so stupid that you got angry, and that's why you decided it was better that they could never be able to breathe again.  

Wiping the blood from your knife, you breathed heavily through the mask you wore. All the chasing and screaming of that idiot had excited you, and as if it were a sign from the universe, your phone rang, Tara's name on the message handle.   

Babadook girl – I'm alone, do you want to come?  

Seeing the message, your expression perked up under the mask, an idea popping into your head. You and Tara weren't official, you weren't dating, but maybe it was your chance to tell young Carpenter who she belonged to. By quickly typing a short answer, you left your victim's house, your effort to do a perfect job leaving you without a trace. 

Meanwhile, Tara had the apartment to herself, silence hung in the corners of the room and young Carpenter was impatient, expecting you to be at her door at any moment. The television was showing some program that Tara was not very interested in watching. In fact, the girl was constantly looking in the direction of the door, as if it would make you get there faster.   

When her phone rang on the table, Tara got a little startle, curling up on the couch before finally reaching for the electronics on the coffee table. "Unknown number" was what it said on the caller ID, and for a moment, Tara felt an agonizing shiver run down her spine. Pressing the green button, Tara brought the phone to her ear, she was sure the person on the other end of the line could hear her unregulated breathing, but she couldn't care less.   

"Hello..."   

"Why did it take you so long to answer me Tara?"   

 The same voice, that same distorted and sick voice was speaking to Tara now. The same voice she has nightmares about, the same voice with someone else under the mask. Tara's hand began to tremble, and before she could even text Sam, a noise of broken glass was heard inside the apartment.   

Tara, who was in the living room, went in silent steps to the kitchen, grabbing one of the largest knives in one of the drawers, going to the corner of the wall and trying to normalize her breathing, the last thing she would want was to have an asthma attack now. Bringing the phone closer to her ear again, Tara heard a sinister laugh, making all of the younger Carpenter's senses grow two times stronger.   

"Are you coming to find me? Or do you want me to come to you, Tara?"   

"Fuck You." Looking in the direction of the hallway, Tara walked slowly to the door, trying her best not to make a sound.   

"I can do that." The laugh that the person on the other line let out made Tara nauseous, the tone that Ghostface used was sinister and suggestive at the same time. "Why are you so shy Tara? You asked me to come..."   

"I would never ask a motherfucker like you to come here!" Tara said, her breathing quickening as she tried to unlock the front door without making a sound.   

From the sound she had heard, The Ghostface could only be in one of the rooms, and the last thing she wanted was for them to hear her opening the door. As the sound of the lock clicked across the apartment, Tara turned the handle, the sense of freedom quickly replaced by horror, as all she felt was Gosthface's gloved hand squeezing her neck.   

Tara's phone was now on the floor, and when she tried to scream only grumbles came out when Ghostface put them hand over her mouth. Tara thought she had no more chance, she had ended up there.   

"Did you think you were going to leave me, you bitch?" Tara didn't know what, but something about the touch of the person underneath the mask was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. "You called me here, Tara. It's not going to be that easy."   

When the masked person threw Tara onto the couch and towered over her, all the young Carpenter did was fight, punching and kicking the masked person, who didn't seem to be affected by any of the woman's blows beneath them. But we all have a breaking point, and while none of Tara's blows hurt them, it was all becoming too much for the person under the mask.   

"STOP IT FUCKING OFF!" The Ghostface screamed, pinning Tara's hands on top of her head, not too hard to hurt her, but strong enough to scare the young Carpenter. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? I DID ALL THIS FOR YOU!"   

Tara didn't know what to say, the words of the masked person on top of her didn't make sense. The sound of heavy breathing was all over the apartment, echoing over the walls. And it was only when Ghostface took off the mask, that everything clicked in Tara's head.   

"Yn?" Tara was confused, tears running down her face. Seeing her friend, the person she had confided so much with, the girl she had fallen in love with, was just devastating. "Why?"   

"Because I love you, Tara." You said, running one of your hands over the Carpenter girl's face, pulling out the wires that came out of place in the fight. "I did all this for you, baby. I killed all those guys, for you. You're mine, Tara."  

Tara didn't want to, but looking at you, on top of her, saying that you did all this for her, made her excited. You could be arrested, you could ruin your future, you put everything to waste, for her. Young Carpenter knew that what she was feeling was sick and distorted, but she couldn't help it when it came to you.   

"You didn't have to do that to have me, you could have said." Tara said, looking into your eyes, the same eyes she looked at when you were in bed together. "You killed people, Yn."   

"No, no, no." You quickly denied it, the movement of your head emphasized what you were saying. "I killed boys. Those idiots who thought they had a chance with someone as perfect as you, Tara."   

The puppy eyes you were giving Tara, made her melt, made her think you just wanted to protect her.   

"Remember that idiot, the one who called you a whore because you said you wouldn't go out with him?! I killed that son of a bitch, Tara." The woman paid attention to your every word, it was not only making her ego grow, but also the moisture between her legs. "He died with my knife in his mouth, because only I can call you things like that, Tara. You are mine."  

Stroking the woman's hair beneath you, you took a second to look at her, contrary to what you thought, Tara was no longer so scared, she seemed afraid of something, but not terrified like she was when you walked through the door.  

"Did you do everything for me?" Tara asked, her legs were trapped by your weight on top of them, but you didn't let the way she rubbed her thighs pass.   

"Why? Did you like it?" You asked, taking Tara's chin in your hand and making her look at you, with an embarrassed look. "Tell me if you liked it, Tara."   

"Yes." The words came out of young Carpenter's mouth like a groan, making you start to think that she liked it as much as you did.   

"You like it, don't you? You slut." Your grip was still firm on her cheeks, but Tara still managed to shake her head in confirmation. "You liked to know what I did to those idiots who tried to be like me, didn't you?!" Your free hand went down to the button of the pants Tara was wearing, unbuttoning and sliding in.   

 "God, yes. I only like it when it's you." Your fingers circled her clitoris, making the woman beneath you let out sighs and gasping moans.   

"You're a little whore just for me, aren't you Tara?" Your fingers slippery enough that you finally slid them inside her.   

"Fuck, yes. Please."   

"Do you want to cum, Tara?" making a back and forth with your fingers, you got close to the young Carpenter's face, kissing her forehead and watching her confirm with her head. "Use your words, slut."   

"yes, I want to cum." And as soon as the words left Tara's mouth, your fingers stopped moving.   

Taking your hand out of the brunette's pants, you pulled her by the hair, making her get up from the couch. The moan that the woman let out was soon silenced by your mouth, which pulled her into a messy kiss. The two of you teeth collided in the kiss, and Tara could feel you bite her lip hard.   

In the middle of the kiss, Tara's hands went down your black outfit, finding the zipper and lowering it. The brunette couldn't lie, but seeing you only in your bra and underwear did something to her, it was like you were walking around, killing the people who had already made her feel uncomfortable, only to come back and fuck her at the end of the day.   

"Fuck, you're so hard." Tara said, getting off your lap and kneeling in front of you.   

Her hand making up and down movements over the fabric was making you even more excited, and you couldn't believe it was really happening. The adrenaline rush of the things you'd done before and the moment you'd had with Tara had driven you crazy, wanting a piece of the Carpenter girl as soon as possible.   

"All for you, baby." You said, helping Tara take your underwear off you.   

Your cock jumped, landing on your abs, pre-cum was leaking from your pink tip and for a moment Tara was hypnotized.   

"Do you love me, baby?" Starting the movements again, she looked at you with those big eyes that you knew very well.   

"More than anything." Throwing your head back, you answered Tara's question, moaning as the woman on her knees gave a kiss to the pink head of your cock.   

"Do you want to date me?" Tara asked, giving an experimental lick from the base to the head.   

"Fuck, yes." Seeing you with your eyes closed and your head thrown back, Tara dug her nails into your thighs, making you moan in pain and look at her immediately.   

"Then ask." What was she doing? She wasn't in charge, you were.  

 "What the fuck are you doing, you slut-" You tried to say, being cut as Tara dragged her nails across your skin, drops of blood forming in the tracks she had left.   

"FUCK, YOU BITCH!"   

"ASK, IF YOU DID ALL THAT FOR ME THEN PROVE IT!"   

"FUCK! OKAY!" 

Stopping the screaming for a second, Tara waited for you to say what she wanted to hear, and although she was afraid of what you could do to her because she said, deep down she knew you would never hurt her, you needed her.   

"Tara, do you want to be my girlfriend?" You asked, making the brunette smile at you, not even answering you before putting part of your cock inside her mouth.   

"Fuck!" To your surprise, you threw your head back again, then straightened up and tilted your head so that you could see all the work Tara was doing on you. "You're mine, only mine."  

Your hand, which was now lovingly positioned on Tara's head, followed the woman's movements, Tara's mouth was hot, and all that stimulation was driving you crazy. The speed with which Tara's mouth worked on you and her hands jerking off what she couldn't put in her mouth, became too much for you.   

"Tara, I'm going to cum."   

Letting your cock slide out of her mouth, Tara stood up, moving away from you and making the knot in your stomach shrink considerably. With a tearful groan, you looked at Carpenter in front of you, who was unbuttoning her pants and sliding her panties down her heels.   

"Sam will be coming soon, we don't have much time." Settling into your lap, Tara guided your cock to her pussy, your bodies fitting as if you were made for it.   

When you finally entered the woman, the moans that came out of the two of you echoed through the apartment. At this point, Tara wouldn't even mind receiving a complaint about the noise, she just wanted you. Being inside Tara was paradise, and you never wanted to leave. Her walls embraced you with love and the sensation you felt made your eyes roll.   

"Fuck, you're so tight, baby." You said, Tara moving her hands from your neck to your hair, messing it up as she pulled your head in, making you look at her.   

"Is that what you wanted?" Tara asked, innocent eyes staring back at you. "Did you want me to be yours?!"   

"Yes, only mine. None of those guys can touch you, because you're my slut." Spreading your hands on Tara's ass, you started to push inside her, making the woman on top of you let out moans of pleasure.   

Even though she liked all the words you called her, and liked to see you being so dominant and powerful in your Ghostface outfit, Tara knew exactly how to control you, 

make you think you'd always be in control of your relationship, when in fact, the younger Carpenter had you in the palm of her hand.   

"I love you, baby. None of those guys will ever have you." You said, putting your hand on the brunette's neck and accelerating the pace of your thrusts.  

"I'm yours, baby. Completely yours, no one else's."   

Your impulses were fast, making Tara's moans get louder and louder, and you knew that meant she was about to cum. Placing your hand just below her abs, you applied pressure, causing Tara to scream louder than you thought she could. With your other hand, you drew circles on her clit, driving the woman beneath you crazy.   

Rolling her eyes, Tara felt like she was in heaven, you hitting her non-stop, the pressure you made on her and your fingers working from her clitoris, were too much. Tara's body twitched, spasms coming out involuntarily, and you knew she was cumming when you felt the woman's insides tighten around you.   

Without stopping your movements, you continued chasing your orgasm, while prolonging Tara's. Your eyes rolled back just like the woman below you, you let out a grunt accompanied by Tara's moan, who now contemplated the sensation of your warm seed pouring inside her.   

Lying on the couch next to the smaller woman, you kissed Tara passionately, just a confirmation that everything was fine.   

"That was amazing." Tara said looking at you. Her hand caressed your hair, trying to comb it back into place.   

"I love you, Tara. And I don't regret anything." You said, watching Tara's eyes falter a little. 

"we can talk about this later. We'll enjoy it while Sam wasn't here yet."  

She didn't know how to make you stop, but she would have to find a way without you getting hurt. 

Hi guys, the first request for this account has just been made.

Thank you to anon who placed the request <3

Stay safe, drink water

xoxo, spider.

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she can date whoever she wants to, i don't care.

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James and you still aren't on talking terms, he avoids you, never gets too close to you, yet complains to everyone when he sees you get close to your new charms partner.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r is a gryffindor lol, this is lowkey super short… 2.1k words, the next chapter will be better...trust

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It had been weeks. Weeks since James had last spoken to you, the last time you had talked was in december, now you're almost two weeks into february, and the rift between you only seemed to grow wider. At first, he told himself he was giving you space. He thought that if he stayed back, you’d eventually come to him, and things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

Every time James worked up the courage to approach you, it was the same thing: you were with him.

Finn Laurier.

James hated how the name left a sour taste in his mouth. Finn wasn’t a bad guy—he was charming, clever, and polite. Too polite, in James’s opinion. Finn Laurier was completely different from James, and that only made the knot of insecurity and jealousy in James’s chest tighten.

While James was loud and brash, Finn had an easygoing, quiet confidence about him. Where James was all about grand gestures and bold declarations, Finn had a knack for subtlety and knowing the right thing to say at the right time. It didn’t help that Finn had somehow managed to claim the spot James had always held at your side, and you didn’t seem to mind.

From across the common room, James watched as Finn leaned in closer to you, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. You laughed at something he said, the sound tugging at James’s heart in a way that made him feel like an idiot.

He slumped back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “What does she even see in him?” he muttered under his breath.

Sirius, sprawled out beside him, didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s good-looking, smart, and doesn’t look like he’s been moping for weeks?”

James glared at him. “I’m not moping.”

“Sure, you’re not,” Sirius drawled. “That’s why you’ve been staring at them for the past ten minutes like you’re about to hex him.”

“I’m not going to hex him,” James grumbled. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s very mature of you, Prongs,” Remus chimed in from his corner, not looking up from his book. “But maybe instead of glaring at him, you should focus on fixing things with her.”

“Yeah, because that’s gone so well for me so far,” James shot back bitterly.

“Have you even tried?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

James opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. The truth was, he had tried—at least, he thought he had. But every time he saw you, Finn was there, making you laugh, leaning just a little too close. And every time, James felt like his chances were slipping further and further away.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to ignore the knot of confusion and hurt that James’s behavior had left behind. You weren’t blind to the way he’d been avoiding you, or how he seemed to retreat every time you so much as glanced in his direction.

Finn had been a welcome distraction. He was kind, easy to talk to, and, most importantly, he didn’t make you feel like you’d done something wrong. But even as you laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling of James’s eyes on you from across the room.

“Everything okay?” Finn asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet all of a sudden,” Finn said, tilting his head slightly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you said quickly, offering him a small smile. “I just… I guess I’m a little distracted.”

Finn nodded, his expression understanding. “Fair enough. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“Thanks, Finn,” you said softly, though your gaze drifted back toward James.

He was still sitting on the couch with Sirius, looking like he was caught between frustration and defeat. When your eyes met for the briefest of moments, he quickly looked away, running a hand through his already messy hair.

You sighed, your chest tightening. Whatever had happened between you and James, it felt bigger than anything you could fix with a simple conversation. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle this silent stalemate.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was now James’s second least favorite day—Valentine’s Day. His least favorite day was still the one he’d sat in Charms class and watched you laugh with Finn Laurier for the first time. That moment had burned itself into his memory, playing on a cruel loop every time he closed his eyes.

But this… this was a close second.

If you had told James back in December that he’d be avoiding you on Valentine’s Day instead of spending it as a happy, loved-up couple, he would have called you mad. Back then, he’d been so sure of himself. So sure that his letter, his heartfelt, trembling confession, would be the thing that finally made you see him as more than just James Potter, your goofy best friend.

And yet, here he was, slouched in a chair in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by heart-shaped confetti that refused to disappear no matter how many times he swatted it away. The house elves had really outdone themselves this year—floating cupid decorations zipped around the room, shooting glittering pink arrows into the air. James glared at one that came a little too close, muttering something about “bloody overkill.”

“I hate this,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking lower into his chair.

“Well, don’t be sulking for the whole day,” Sirius said, perched on the arm of the couch nearby. His tone was a mix of amusement and exasperation, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re all supposed to go to The Three Broomsticks soon, remember?”

James let out another unintelligible grumble, something that sounded suspiciously like “don’t want to,” though the exact words were lost in his sulk.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Come on, mate, this is getting ridiculous. You’ve been moping around for weeks.”

“I’m not moping,” James shot back, though the words lacked any real conviction.

“You’re literally the definition of moping,” Sirius said, smirking. “You’re sitting here, arms crossed, glaring at a cupid like it personally insulted your family.”

“I don’t want to go to The Three Broomsticks,” James muttered.

“And why not?” Sirius pressed, though James could tell from his tone that he already knew the answer.

James sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Because she might be there,” he admitted quietly.

“She, as in you-know-who?” Sirius teased, though his smirk softened slightly when he saw the genuine frustration on James’s face. “Look, Prongs, you can’t avoid her forever. It’s a small castle. You’re bound to run into her eventually.”

“I know that,” James said, his voice tight. “But I just… I can’t deal with seeing her with him today, alright? Not on bloody Valentine’s Day.”

Sirius leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re assuming she’s spending the day with Finn, but has she actually told you that?”

James hesitated. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. “But why wouldn’t she? He’s—he’s Finn Laurier, for Merlin’s sake. He’s perfect. Why wouldn’t she spend Valentine’s Day with him?”

“You’re an idiot,” Sirius said matter-of-factly.

James blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sirius said, standing up and stretching, “that instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, you could actually try talking to her. Maybe, just maybe, things aren’t as hopeless as you think.”

James stared at him, his heart hammering in his chest. The idea of approaching you now, after everything, felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. But Sirius’s words planted a small, stubborn seed of hope in his mind.

“Fine,” James muttered, standing up. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m hexing you.”

Sirius grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As James followed Sirius out of the common room, his mind raced with a hundred different scenarios. He wasn’t sure what he’d say if he saw you—or if he even had the courage to say anything at all. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t keep hiding forever. But it looks like the odds were not in his favor–he felt like his world was crumbling. He knew he shouldn't have listened to Sirius, it just made things worse. You had said yes to being Finn’s valentine–and worst of all, who asks a girl out on valentine's day?

James scoffed, his sadness shifting into a simmering anger. He quickly left the scene, Sirius trailed behind him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

“Slow down, Prongs!” Sirius called.

James didn’t respond, only slowing when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He paused there, allowing Sirius to catch up before muttering the password under his breath. As the portrait swung open, James turned to his friend with a scowl.

“I’m never listening to you again.”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius protested, throwing up his hands. “How was I supposed to know Laurier would swoop in right then and there?”

Inside the common room, Remus and Peter exchanged curious glances.

“What happened?” Remus asked, his tone cautious.

“She was right there,” James burst out, his voice rising with frustration. “And so was Laurier. He asked her out! They didn’t even see me—or Sirius, thankfully—but still!” He threw himself into an armchair, running a hand through his already messy hair.

The others stayed silent, unsure how to comfort him.

After an awkward three minutes, Peter cleared his throat and attempted to lighten the mood. “Why don’t we head to the Three Broomsticks? A bit of butterbeer might help take your mind off things.”

For a moment, James said nothing. Then, as if possessed by some newfound resolve, he stood abruptly.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, surprising everyone. “If she can be completely unbothered after I confessed my undying love for her, then ignore me, and worst of all—start dating some tosser who’s the polar opposite of me—then fine. I’ll move on too. Starting now. Let’s go.”

The other Marauders stared at him, dumbfounded. This wasn’t the James they knew—the James who would spend hours pestering Sirius about why you hadn’t replied to his letters, the James who badgered Remus for details about your every interaction, the James who constantly begged Peter for updates about you in the classes you shared.

It was as if the James Potter they knew had been replaced by someone else entirely.

The streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed with snow, the cold biting at their cheeks as the Marauders made their way to the Three Broomsticks. James led the group, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his jaw set tight. He was unusually quiet, his normal easy going demeanor replaced with something sharper, more defensive.

Sirius tried to break the silence first. “Prongs, mate, you know she didn’t do it to hurt you, right? She probably didn’t even know how you felt.”

James let out a sharp laugh, his breath clouding in the cold air. “She didn’t know? Oh, she knew. I wrote her a bloody letter, Padfoot. I poured my heart out. If she didn’t get the hint, then she’s thicker than I thought—and she’s not thick.”

Sirius grimaced, clearly regretting his choice of words. “Alright, alright, bad point. But still, Laurier? The guy’s got the personality of a Flobberworm.”

“Doesn’t matter,” James muttered. “Apparently, she likes Flobberworms.”

Peter, trying to ease the tension, piped up, “Well, maybe Laurier’s just a rebound, you know? She’ll realize what a tosser he is soon enough.”

Remus shot Peter a warning look, but James seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

“Rebound from what?” James muttered. “She’s never been with anyone to rebound from.”

They reached the Three Broomsticks, the warm glow from inside spilling out onto the snow-covered street. The group filed in, quickly finding a table in the back corner. The usual bustling energy of the pub seemed muted to James, his mind too occupied with replaying the moment he’d seen you say yes to Finn Laurier.

A round of butterbeers arrived at the table, and Sirius pushed a tankard in front of James. “Alright, here’s the plan,” Sirius said, leaning forward. “We’re going to have a laugh, you’re going to forget about Laurier, and tomorrow, you’ll go back to being your annoying, charming self. Sounds good?”

James took a long sip of his butterbeer, the warm liquid doing little to ease the ache in his chest. “Yeah, sure. Forget about her. Easy.”

“James,” Remus said gently, “it’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m not acting,” James snapped, though his tone softened almost immediately. “I’m fine. Really.”

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus, both of them unconvinced.

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[unholybacon355]

What's under my christmas tree?

Shin Ryujin x Male Reader

Word Count: 6 K

TW: Incest.

A/N:

I have to say some important things.

First, they are deeply wrong and damaged. Please notice that.

Second. I was supposed to release this on christmas eve but things happened so I'm posting it now.

And third, this is the continuation of Day 1 of my Kinktober stories. You don't need to read that after this, since is a short story gives zero context to this one. But if you want to read it you can find it on my profile.

And last one. This was supposed to be a one shot, but I thing would be better if I split it in two. So second chapter is coming soon.

CHAPTER ONE

Another family dinner, as the thousand you have had since you’re alive, nothing special about this one that makes it memorable. Just a complete normal family dinner with your dad, your mom, and your older sister. Everything normal, nothing to care about, not at all. Just the usual things like Ryujin making fun of you for being a loser and not getting bitches. She is loving messing with you while she’s rubbing her foot against your crotch under the table. Just a totally normal Christmas dinner with your family.

You’re hard and nervous at the same time. You want to take off your pants and let your sister perform a proper footjob, but for obvious reasons you can’t do that in the middle of the family dinner. She knows that and you can see in her deep brown eyes that that is exactly the reason why she’s messing with you right now.

You can remember exactly how this insane side of your relationship started. Was years ago during one of your vacation that she found you smelling an used pair of panties. You thought it was from one of her friends, Chaeryeong, who was with your family on that vacation. But ended up being one of Ryujin’s used panties instead. That crazy night she maybe had drank more than she should have and one thing led to another so you ended up putting a show from your sister and masturbating in front of her, smelling her pussy aroma from her dirty underwear while she was making fun and encouraging you at the same time. From there things were periodically escalating within days, and by the end of the vacations you two eventually ended fucking.

You seriously think that you should feel bad about the fact that at least once per month you cum inside your sister’s pussy, but seriously she’s so annoying on a daily basis that you believe that is a great compensation.

You aren't getting bitches, as Ryujin always says, and she takes advantage of that by always messing with you. Always rubbing her body against you in the most subtle ways, like for example how she did during the family photo this same evening.

You were sitting on the couch accommodating for the said photo and Ryujin just sat on your lap. The problem was that she was rubbing her ass on your crotch, causing you a massive erection. The almost imperceptibly slow and circular movement of her ass made your shaft stab her, and she was smiling all the time. No one could notice it on the photo but you were holding it to not bend her over the carpet and fuck your sister in front of the christmas tree.

And now you have her foot rubbing your erection while she's making jokes and asking you mom to pass her the salad. Your sister is a truly evil being, but you have to give credit to her for maintaining this charade. She should venture into acting since is too good at putting on that poker face while doing nasty things. 

You know how fast her expressions can change since one of her favorite activities is ruining your orgasm by looking right into your eyes with her most dirty and slutty face, and in the right moment changing to a disgusting or angry face. Your sister could easily be an actress and win an Oscar.

Is incredible how Ryuijin can manage to look like a good daughter while bringing you to the very verge of an orgasm. Her foot works on your crotch pressing and rubbing your erection  with expert and precise movements, as if she had done this countless times. And maybe she did it, since even you know the rumors about her that people tell in her campus. And it is her expert foot that finally makes you cum, but is a disappointing orgasm. Totally ruined by the fact that you can make any noise and have to maintain your composure since you're in front of your parents, still at the family dinner. Ryujin's foot immediately leaves your erection in peace when she notices that you have already cummed. 

Somehow you managed to maintain composure and not moan right there. Only your mom noticed something was wrong and asked you if everything was ok. You were quick to tell her that you have eaten so much because everything was delicious, and that's all. That was just you having a full stomach and nothing more. Deflecting all doubts into a burst of giggles from your sister. At least she helps you with this one. 

After dinner came the exchange of gifts, which you had to go through with your boxer soaked in your cum. It feels dirty and makes you worry that your parents might smell it, or your pants get stained and they could notice it. Luckily for you nothing happens and everything goes right, you even get a pretty gift from Ryujin. Which considering what she just did to you at the dinner was giving you mixed feelings.

After all, family night ended up being beautiful, as a christmas night should be for everyone. All the fun and family games ended sooner than you wish because your parents had to leave to attend a friend’s party and obviously you weren't going to be hanging out with your sister in the living room. So one second after your mom let you know that they aren’t coming back till tomorrow lunch and  leave the house, you're running to your room without giving any chance to Ryujin to mess with you again. 

Hours have passed but you are still awake, being occasionally distracted from your studies by the snow falling at the other side of the window, and for your sister’s steps coming down and up on the stairs. What she’s doing is a mystery for you and honestly you don’t wanna know, maybe she’s sneaking one of her friends in the house to get her guts rearranged. In which case you don’t wanna know, or maybe you want and you will use the sounds of Ryujin getting railed to jack off properly. Since she ruined your orgasm at dinner, that sounds fair. You’re now curious but to your surprise her steps stop in front of your door. 

“Are you still up, loser?” Ryujin asks after carefully opening your door and sticking just her head in the room. For some reason she’s wearing makeup and a christmas hat. 

“Get out, I'm studying. I have an exam next week.” You make her a gesture with your hand to leave the room but instead she blatantly steps inside. Know you really don't know what is happening because Ryujin is dressed like some kind of Santa Claus. The all red costume could be considered sexy in some way because she’s wearing a miniskirt that barely covers more than her ass, thigh highs and a crop top jacket leaving her stomach exposed. All of that topped by a cape, that is actually what is preventing her ass to be seen, and said hat. “What’s going on with you?”

“Oh come on! Stop being a loser. Is christmas.” She’s putting on a show here because is pouting and stepping on the floor as if she were some kind of spoiled child. Which in part she is. “Don’t you wanna watch a movie with your sister and have a nice night? I already settled everything on the first floor.”

“Why are you suddenly being so nice?” You have the right to be suspicious since clearly your sister is plotting something here. 

“Come on Loser, is christmas. I don’t wanna waste my night sleeping, not tonight. Besides you study a lot, you're practically the first in your class. You deserve a rest too.” Well, at least she was right on that. “I already prepared hot chocolate and cookies. But if you don’t want it, all it's gonna be for me.” And recovering her bratty attitude, more or less her true nature, Ryujin sticks out her tongue and leaves your room. Obviously she didn’t close the door.

When you were about to close the door something made you change your mind and instead you shouted to the first floor. “Wait for me, I’m coming down in a minute.” Maybe she’s right and you deserved a rest after hardly studying the entire year. 

Minutes later you're amazed by what Ryujin prepared for your little movie night. She has moved things in the living room, making a big space in the middle. There on the floor she placed blankets and some pillows piled against the big couch, making a bed for you two. There is also a center tabled with what seems to be a thermos with hot chocolate and some christmas cookies, two mugs of that hot chocolate have been already served and are steaming there. All of this is being illuminated by the light of the christmas tree and the big freaking 85 inches tv your dad insisted your family needed. This scene could be romantic if not were because you two are siblings.

"Why are you suddenly doing this?" This seems like too much coming from your sister. “What are you plotting?”

“Can you not be a prick for a moment?” Ryujin seems to be a little offended by your doubts, or maybe she’s acting up again. With her you never know. “Already said it. Just wanna have a nice christmas.”

“Ok, ok. Maybe the Christmas spirit possessed you or something. Can I pick the movie or have you already prepared that too?” You ask sitting in the blankets. 

“No, you can’t.” Ryujin sits beside you and covers you two with one blanket. She puts a mug of hot chocolate in your hand and press play. Your sister had selected a romantic comedy. One of those movies that always happens in New York where a young couple inevitably falls in love, but at least it was a Christmas movie so that’s something. 

The night was so relaxing and for the first time in months you were just there having a good time. The movie ended up being quite good and you were able to enjoy it, you two were having fun after all. You didn’t even notice how or when Ryujin hugged you, this time without trying to inappropriately touch you, or how she was feeding you with pieces of cookies by putting them directly in your mouth. So for almost two hours you and your sister were laying there enjoying the movie and having a lovely night. The fact that at times this seemed more like a date than two siblings watching a movie together flew over your head, you were completely blinded by enjoying the warmth of your sister hugging you instead of fighting with her. 

By the time the movie credits appear on screen Ryujin had her head resting on your shoulder and you were petting her. This was maybe the first time you were like this in years; with no fights, no jokes, no sex, just both of you enjoying a lovely moment. But the spell broke once the movie came to at it inevitable end. That trance that blinded your eyes during the movie wasn’t present now and for the first time you were aware of Ryujin’s body pressing against yours in a tight hug. 

“Was a good movie after all, but it is late now.” You broke the reigning silence in the room, and despiste your word you weren't sure if you wanna stop hugging your sister.

“Did you like it?” She asks with her head still on your shoulder. “Never thought my little loser was into that kind of movie.”

“I’m not into it, but this movie was good. And…” Suddenly the realization that she called you “My” hit you. “Why did you call me like that? I’m not yours. Why do you always call me loser?” Your arms are no longer surrounding her body.

“You have to ruin everything, right?” Ryujin pushed you and stood up. The blanket that was covering you fell to a side, the cold hit your bodies now since each other warm was missing. “You’re my brother and I’m the only one that calls you Loser. Can’t I show some love for you now?” This sudden change in her mood surprised you.

“Ok, just calm down.” You're standing too now. “Maybe I’m suspicious since you decided to give me a footjob in the dinner. Did you forget that?”

“You’re acting as if you didn’t enjoyed it.” Well she was right, once again. “You're always so happy to cum on me and then act like if I were using you or something.” To your surprise she pushed you. That caught you off guard causing you to fall into the couch. 

“What’s wrong with you?” You quickly stand again and grab her hands when Ryujin tries to push you again. Despite being younger you were visibly taller and heavier than your sister so it wasn't too much difficult for you. “Seriously, what is happening with you?” Ryujin tried to escape from your grasp but you didn’t let her go anywhere. “The footjob, the present, the movie, and now this. Are you crazy or something?”

“Let me…” She finally can free herself, or maybe you let her go because you just noticed how tears were forming in her eyes. “ I’m just tired and really wanted to have a nice moment with someone that at least loved me in the past.” She was holding tears.

“Ryu…” You can control yourself and you surround her with your arms in a tight hug. “I still love you. You’re my sister. Yes, you’re annoying most of the time, but I still do love you.”

“Then why do you have to treat me like your sex toy?” She was sobbing now. “ Why can't you be gentle? Why at least you can’t be gentle with me?”

“Ryu, what’s happening.” You really don’t understand what’s happening here, what is this all about. “I don’t know. Maybe because you bully me when we fuck? But I like it, and… And… Maybe I don’t wanna admit that I enjoy fucking my sister.” This is really the first time you say that because it is truly the first time you two get remotely close to talk about this.

Ryujin tries to push you away but your hug is thigh. “Lier, you’re just like the others. You want me because you can fuck me everytime you want.”

“What? Nooo Ryu, no.” Seriously, this is going to a weird place. “Are the rumors true?”

“Yes, they are. I’m campus's easiest slut to fuck as everyone knows, even you had hear that.” She sobs loudly” I’m so tired of people faking that they are close to me because they wanna fuck me. I’m so tired of people trying to get me drunk because in that way is more easy to fuck me.” Your sister was losing the battle against tears because some had dropped over her cheeks. “I’m a person too. I’m capable of more things than getting my holes stuffed and moaning. I just can’t stop, I can’t feel ok if I'm not drunk or messing with you.”

“Ryu stop!” Maybe you said that a little louder than you should have. “What are you talking about?” Now you hold her face with one hand and dry her tears with the other. “You’re more than that to me. Remember, you're my sister. Don’t you remember who pulled me out of the lake that time I almost drowned when we were kids? Did you forget that time when I broke auntie’s Joohyun porcelain and you said that it was your fault so that they wouldn't scold me?” More tears came from your sister’s eyes when she heard your words. “Have you never noticed why I’m always studying so much? Is because of you. When I started college I wanted to have the same good grades as you because you're so smart. You don’t even need to study. Even now that you're drunk almost every weekend you still have good grades. How can you not see that I do care for you?”

“Lier…” Ryujin wasn’t fighting anymore. She was just there crying in silence, grabbing you tightly by your jacket.  

“Ryu, please. I really enjoy our times together… I. “ This is something you don’t wanna admit, not even in your mind, but maybe this is the only moment you could do it. “You wanna know why I’m not getting laid? Isn’t because I’m a nerd or something, in fact some girls have asked me to go on dates with them but I can’t. They aren’t annoying like you, they aren’t as smart as you… I can’t go with them.” Yeah. Your relationship with your sister was really fucked up, and for the things you were saying this was a point from no return.

“You…” Her hands were shaking. “ You really mean it?” Even with the poor light you could see a bright in her eyes when she asked that, and wasn’t the bright of her tears.

“Yes, and you can call me your loser if you want.” Now Ryujin is the one who hugged you, hiding her head in your chest but never stop crying. “But please stop crying. We still can have a good night. We can watch another movie or somet…” You weren't able to finish what you were to say because Ryujin grabbed your face and kissed you.

Was a shy kiss, something different to everything you had ever had with her. Normally your kisses are dirty, furtive, charged with sexual tension and short. This was different, more needy for something that you can’t describe at the moment, but you were kissing her too. Her tears were wetting your face while your lips were dancing together. One of her hands was still holding tightly the side of your jacket. 

After what you said, after what you admitted, this feels so different. Suddenly you're hungry for your sister, you want more from her but you remember what she said and don’t wanna break this moment. You seriously love her for more than her pussy, after all she’s your big sister, but now this kiss is doing things to you.

You don’t need to worry anymore for whatever you should do because it is Ryujin who hugs you by your neck and makes her body closer to yours. Since the blanket isn’t covering you anymore, the temperature on your bodies has started to drop, but this kiss is bringing up the thermometer. The kiss is becoming needy and her hands are playing in your neck.

You grab her by the waist , a shiver ran through her body when your hands meet her skin making her tremble for a moment. Ryujin broke the kiss panting for air. She’s not crying anymore, instead there is this new light in her eyes. Something has changed on her. You try to say something but she muted you with a quick kiss on your lips and start lifting your jacked. You help her to take off the garment and your shirt goes along with it. The cold of the winter didn’t bother you because Ryujin's hands are over your chest, you feel a strange warm coming from where she touch you and spreading across your entire body. 

“Ryu…” But she muted you again with a kiss before taking a step back. Without taking her eyes from yours Ryujin opens her jacket, leaving her cape on, and lets it fall over the blanket on the floor. She’s not wearing lingerie or something fancy as someone would think, instead she’s wearing a normal bra like she would wear on a normal day. In some way you prefer it like this, but at least said garment is red, matching the thematic of her outfit. 

She attempts to take off her thigh highs but you stop her. “No… leave the stockings… Please.” She says nothing but just takes off her miniskirt instead. Ok, she wasn’t wearing lingerie but her underwear matches, even when they were simple pieces they were matching. You found that a lovely gesture because you understand that you weren't meant to see that since she wanted to have just a nice moment with you instead of hooking up. So the makeup and all the prep was just for her to feel better and pretty.

Your sister looks beautiful standing on the blankets, wearing only her underwear and cape. To you, the light from the television and the twinkling lights from the tree don't do justice to her flawless skin. You wish this had been a moonlight night so she could be bathed for the silver light, but instead the snow is falling and pilling outside. 

You both are nervous to make the first move, as if you were a couple having their first time instead of a pair of siblings that had known each other since forever. But it is Ryujin that finally reaches you first. She hugs you and soon her hands are playing with your neck again. You can help but find her lips and share a kiss, more passionate this time. Your hands wander across her skin, caressing her waist and tummy.

Despiste Ryujin exercising regularly, her body is not that toned. It's just on the verge between being fluffy and muscular, and you find that so attractive. You can see her biceps contract when she’s carrying something heavy, or punching you, but also can see her thighs jiggle when she walks around. Seeing your sister half naked like this is like a heavenly vision to you.

By this point you have been fucking around for almost two years, but you never have seen her completely naked. Well maybe that time when you ate her pussy from behind when she was about to take a shower. But that was just for a brief moment, nothing like this where she's yours to watch and touch, even when she isn’t completely naked. Your encounters are always fast, subtitles, hiding and trying not to make a noise so your parents can´t fin their children fucking. But here and now both of you know that you can give free rein to your darkest desires.

Ryujin again is the first to move and reach your waistband making you pant fall to your ankles. Your boxer does a miserable job at hiding the tent that formed where is your dick. But how not to be hard when you’re doing this with your beloved sister? It’s impossible not to. 

“My little loser is already so excited.” Of course she has to make fun of you in a moment like this, can’t be in another way. “Let noona take care of you tonight.” She whispered that into your ear with her raspy deep voice, and made a shiver run through your spine. Or maybe it is because Ryujin is stroking your erection, and even when is covered with your boxer she still can feel your bulge throbbing in her hand when it is being inflated with blood. 

You moan and kiss her again. Maybe the loudest moan you had ever allowed her to cause on you, but is quickly muted by the kiss. Your tongue invades her mouth and she accepts it, but she’s still the one that’s guiding the kiss. After all, your sister is the one with more experience here. You only have kissed a couple of girls before rejecting them, so your sister’s are the lips you have tasted the most.  

She takes off your boxer too and you kick it away with the rest of your clothes. Now you're totally naked and in her hands to do whatever she wants. The imbalance of power is evident here but you don’t care, after all Ryujin said that she will take care of you and you believe in her. So the gentle push she gave you on your chest didn't take you off guard this time, but still made you fall into the couch. 

“Shhhh.” She muted you by putting a finger over your lips when you opened your mouth to say something, and instead of letting you know what she was gonna do, Ryujin just knelt down between your legs. You knew what was coming by the way she was staring at your shaft with those feline eyes, as if a lion were stalking their prey. Ryujin wrapped her fingers around your erection once again and gave you gentle strokes, immediately a drop of precum forms on your tip. 

You feel her tongue on your head collecting your precum, and her warm breath on your shaft. The view you have is amazing and your sister stares back at your eyes, looking to your soul, when she starts engulfing your tip and slowly but never stopping she swallows your meat till her lips touch her hand. A big portion of your erected shaft is in your sister’s mouth, and you feel so comfortable being surrounded by her warmth that you don't even bother on think that this is wrong.

And then, Ryujin starts sucking your dick, but again something feels different. This is not fast, she’s taking her time to give you an actual blowjob and not just some quick blows. She strokes you at a slow pace while her head is going up and dong on your dick, her tongue also is playing around your meat maximizing the pleasure you're receiving. As she said, your sister is taking care of you.

“Relax, loser.” Her voice is so calm, and despiste calling you names you know this time she isn’t making fun of you. All you can do is pet her head and caress her hair while she continues sucking your shaft. The feeling is so amazing, like no other head she has ever given you. Your dick feels so welcome inside her warm mouth. 

Your sister doesn't go really deep, just swallowing half of your dick, but this still is so pleasant. Her tongue dances around your shaft in ways that you even knew were possible. That makes your breath heavy and by the look on her eyes she’s proud of that, she likes what she’s making you feel. But she still gives you more and the blowjob becomes messier and sloppy. Ryujin is now coating your shaft with her saliva.

When Ryujing takes your shaft out of her mouth it is so covered in her saliva that some drops fall into your balls. “Come here.” She makes space for you in the blankets beside her, and you let yourself slide from the couch to the floor. Your sister loses no time and sits on your lap, pressing her clothed core into your wet shaft. 

She finds your lips again, and despite feeling your taste on her mouth you don’t wanna be kissing someone else. Your hands find her ass and knead her plump buttocks. A needy moan is released right into your mouth at the time your sister starts riding you, and her hands are cupping your face. The way she moves over you drives you crazy and makes her underwear wet, you can feel it even with your shaft coated in her saliva, so her pussy must be completely soaked by her own juices.

“Just let me…” Ryujin raised her body a little to slide her panties to the side, releasing her pussy from the embrace of the fabric. Then she aligns her glistening folds over your tip and descends slowly, taking your dick at a tortuous pace. “You feel soooo stretching me out.” Her voice is so low when she talks again, but you still can hear traces of her raspy tone on it. “You’re filling me so well, Loser.” She don’t move, instead Ryujin just kiss your face and plays with your hair. Right now she’s so far from being the bully and annoying sister that she has been this past years.  

When Ryujin moves her hips again, you feel how her walls tighten around your throbbing shaft. That feels delicious, to say it in one way. Her warm wetness is surrounding your hard meat, and her lips are glued to yours in a passionate shared kiss. She rides you slowly, enjoying every movement and releasing waves of pleasure through your bodies. 

Once again, as you have been so many times, you're so buried inside your sister’s cunt. But despite all the times you have done this, this time feels more pleasant. Like if you had unblocked a new level of passion between you two. Something that wasn't supposed to be archived by a pair of siblings. A bonding really forbidden.

You need more of her body, so your hands reach for the back of her bra, but you struggle to get it open. You haven’t done it enough times to memorize the process yet. “Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” The words are followed by a small giggle. “Another day I'll teach you to open it with just one hand.” Ryujin bites your lower lip and you get nervous causing  your hands to slip from her bra. “Try it again.” Isn’t a order, is most like a petition. “Take off noona’s bra. I want my tiddies sucked.” You finally get the strength and concentration to get the damn clasp of her bra open. She laughs amused and throw her bra way, finally releasing her breasts. 

Her tiddies aren’t big, but are big enough to fill your hands. Her nipples feel so stuffed and you caressing them makes them harder. But regardless of the fact that this feels amazing, this isn’t what your sister said she wants. She was clear on her petition, she wants her tiddies sucked and you’re no one to refuse it. 

As soon as your mouth meets her right tit you feel how Ryujin’s arch her back. By pure instinct your tongue is playing with her hard nipple, and by the moans she’s releasing you think you’re doing good. Your other hand is on her left breast, playing with it as well. Ryujin practically huge your head holding you in place, so you can’t stop sucking her tits, and you do as you were told. From time to time you change what of her tiddies is on your mouth and what is being caressed by your hand, but you never stop sucking and your sister never stops riding you. 

Her movements are now faster and messier. You feel her wetness around you and how her walls embrace your throbbing shaft. The way she makes you feels is so amazing, never ever before fucking your sister has been so pleasant. Apparently she’s having a good time too, because her moans never stop. In fact, they are just becoming louder as she rides you and you play with her tits. 

“You're making noona feel so good.” You didn’t need a confirmation because you already could feel it, but her words are well received. The way she’s moaning, the way you make your sister moan and shiver in pleasure make you feel proud. Despite not being experienced you still can make Ryujin have a good time, and not one of those furtive hook ups you have been having.

“God, those batches don’t know what they’re missing.” Ryujin manages to say between her moans and whimpers. “My little brother's cock feels so good inside me.” Her dirty but affirmative words toward you make your dick throb inside her. 

You redoubles your attacks over her tiddies, sucking and kissing. Rolling her nipples between your fingers and covering them in saliva with your mouth.

 “You want noona to cum over you? To mark you?” You can’t respond because your mouth is busy sucking her left tiddie, but you can suck harder to let her know you want her to reach her orgasm over you, in your arms. Apparently the massage is well received because she changes the pace of her hips.

Now your sister’s movements are slower but conscious, she’s never breaking the pace. Also she’s taking you as deep as she can every time your hips meet, making your shaft completely disappear inside her.

Despite being a cold Christmas night, with snow falling and all, your bodies are warming each other to the point you feel no cold. Plus this is so pleasant that nobody could focus on feeling cold when you have your beautiful sister riding your cock.

“This feel good? Noona is taking good care of you?” She kisses your forehead in a gesture that's way too romantic for the situation, but honestly you don't care anymore. What's the point on denying that you aren't just fucking but you're making love with your sister? There is no worse blind than the one who doesn't want to see, they say. And maybe it is time to open your eyes and accept those feelings. No matter how twisted they are.

Maybe Ryujin needs someone that actually loves and takes care of her too, instead of just wanting to stuff her holes. And maybe you can be that person, or at least you can be there for her till she finds someone. But honestly, who can be better for her than you?

“My little loser is making noona feel so good.” The control she has over her voice even when is so close to orgasm is amazing. You feel how messy and fast her movements are, but nothing of that can be spotted on her voice. She sounds calm, with her deep raspy voice doing things to you. Making you throb inside of her as if you have a second heart down there.

Finally the wetness of her core drench your balls letting you know she reached the precious climax. But not just that, because you can hear how your sister is moaning right into your ear. Ryujin is still riding you, slowly decreasing her pace till she’s sitting in your lap, with your shaft buried inside her. 

She’s practically panting because she did almost all the effort, but hair isn’t what she needs now. All your sister can think is on finding your lips and sharing one of those passionate kisses with you. Ryujin is holding your face, not forcing you but not wanting you to go. She doesn't need hair because she can have that anytime, all she needs now is the only person that doesn't see her as a slut.

Time gets blurry when you are passionately kissing your sister like that. Hungry but also slowly, in a way you have never felt before. No girl’s lips made you feel like this before, is a new hunger that you just found and don’t know if it is right that you are satisfying it. This gluttony may be a capital sin.

“That was good.” Ryujin said before kissing your forehead again and playing with your hair. “Best orgasm I’ve had in a long time.” Your sister hugs you seeking for your body heat on this cold winter night. You are just there, laying on the floor with your sister hiding from the world under her christmas cape and between your arms. 

“What about me having an orgasm too?”

“Don’t know if you deserve one.” Her head is resting on your shoulder. “It's your punishment for making me cry.”

“I thought I made you cry with pleasure.” You joke while lovely petting her black hair, as if your balls were not coated on sex fluids for the second time that night. All your sister’s fault.

“Don’t be that bold, Loser. You are still not that capable. But…” She pauses to ponder whether she should say the following or not. “Maybe noona can give you another lesson. Another Christmas gift.” She said before kissing your jaw and asking with a whisper right into your ear. “Wanna be a big boy and fuck noona in the ass?”

[gtgbabie0]

{Wilderness!Nat caring for you when you get sick}

I love her sm I’m so not normal about her <3

Winter was brutal, more than anyone could have anticipated— more than anyone was ready for. The dense greenery of the forest had become suffocated by a thick layer of snow, leaving nothing to hunt. It brought an emptiness that was eerily quiet save for the wind that carried an icy bite to it, as it whistles through the air, it felt almost taunting the way it whispers.

Or maybe you were just going insane, it felt like it— Tassia said it was just a fever that’ll pass within a few days but then those few days turned into weeks and you still felt like you were on deaths door— the hunger certainly wasn’t helping and the fact you struggled to keep down the little bits of food you did have was just the cherry ontop of the rotten cake.

All you could do was curl up by the fireplace, trying to soak up the warmth of the flames— although they seemed miles away, providing little warmth. Natalie watches you, brows furrowed with concern as she tucks the bear pelt around your trembling shoulders in hopes that the fur might just keep the cold from seeping into your achy bones.

“Sshh— shhh, you’re okay.” She hadn’t left your side since the first raspy coughing fit that had seized you up left you crying in her arms. Now she watches over you as you sleep, sitting crossed legged beside you on the floor— brushing her rough knuckles along your clammy cheek as you shiver. “You’re gonna be fine, baby.” The words are mostly to herself, she downright refuses to loose you to a fucking cold.

The orangey flames of the fireplace bring colour back to your sickly face— the usual grimace that curls over your lips was replaced by a much more relaxed expression, cheek smushed against the pillows as you snore away and for a moment she could almost trick herself into believing that you were feeling better— not currently fighting for your life.

“Nat?” The weak croak in your voice snaps her out of her thoughts and she’s immediately turning all her attention to you— hand cupping your cheek gently.

“Yeah, I’m here— m’right here—” her words are slightly frantic, replacing that usual ‘don’t-give-a-fuck’ attitude. “You need water?— extra blanket?”

You couldn’t help but smile up at her— it was weak, barely ghosting over your chapped lips but it was there and it made Natalie’s heart leap. “Yeah, water would be nice.” You only ask so she doesn’t feel so useless just sitting around and watching you get worse.

Slowly, you push yourself to sit up against the wall— a cushion stuffed behind your back as you watch her pour some water into a small cup— they needed to try and boil some more, the supply was beginning to run out. But right now that was the very least of Natalie’s concerns.

She shuffles to kneel beside you, helping you take a few slow sips of water— fingers curled around the base of the cup. “Can you try and eat something, please?”

Her words instantly draw out a croaky groan, that horrid grimace curdling over your face and finding a home on lips once again. “It’s pointless. I’d just bring it back up.”

“You have to try— it’ll help.” And you know she’s no longer asking.

You cave, not having the energy to fight her on it despite how much your stomach shrinks on itself at the thought of eating the shitty slices of bear meat in some watery-soupy concoction Mari stirs up— even with the hunger your fever had found a way to completely destroyed your appetite.

But for the sake of your girlfriend’s sanity you’d try, even letting her spoon feed you tiny mouthfuls— trying to fight that sickly feeling that creeps up your throat and instead focusing on how the fireplace eases that ache in your muscles if only a little.

“You did good— just try n’keep it down, yeah?” She offers you a supportive smile, her hand rubbing slow circles over your back as you nod, humming in agreement. “I can handle a snotty nose just not your vomit, s’fuckin gross.”

Her words draw a scoff from your lips, amused, glancing over to her with a smirk— “Mhm, thanks babe.” You deadpan, watching as she shuffles to sit behind you, legs resting either side of your body, motioning for you to lay back against her.

“I shouldn’t— I could be all contagious n'stuff.” You sniffle, meeting her eyes from behind your shoulder with a sad-half smile, “I don’t wanna give you what I got.”

“I don’t care. Just c’mere silly.” It’s not an offer because her hands are tugging you backwards until you’re lying back against her chest, head tucked beneath her chin. “I’ll keep you warm.” She seals the promise with a kiss to the top of your head, arms wrapped tightly around you in a protective embrace. Natalie clings onto you like she's terrified you'll disappear, or succumb to this sickness, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't absolutely petrified of the idea.

[asce-of-hearts]

Asce darling (hope it’s ok I call you that!) , please please with a cherry on top may I please request yandere’s monster trio (separate if that’s to many maybe just Sanji) In there 40’s cause I am simp and omg there look amazing 😩👌 as hcs plesse 💗anon

Old man

contents: Yandere!Monster Trio headcanons when they're in their 40's (gn!reader)

more content of Luffy, Zoro and Sanji here

TAG LIST

WARNINGS: NSFW.

Monkey D. Luffy

The stubble always itches when he kisses you. No matter how much you tell him to shave he never does. Either way, also tickles a little when he gives head lol.

Obscenely strong, he was very lanky all of his life so you wonder just when did he get all broad. Broad back and shoulders, very muscly. Still thin but his body definitely changed.

It's insane how a man can look so much like his grandpa. You saw a picture of dragon once when you both were young and thought maybe he'd grow to look like that. Oh how wrong you were, he looks NOTHING like his father. But his grandpa on the other hand? Yeah, two peas in a pod.

Just a little bit more serious now that he's older, otherwise the same lighthearted, cheerful, optimistic ray of sunshine he has always been.

Whiny when he gets jealous. Possessively wraps his arms around you, stretching them until not an inch of you isn't covered and pouts as he gets you closer to him. Shooting daggers with his eyes at whoever is making him have such a reaction.

Cum gallons, at one point he really wants to secure a heir and he isn't letting you leave the bed until he's sure he has placed something inside your tummy.

Marathon sex is a must with him. He has insane amounts of stamina and recovers very quickly. Be prepared for back and hip pain, and also for a looot of sleepless nights.

Roronoa Zoro

He isn't four sword style Zoro because he can handle for swords, its a euphemism for his cock. And once you realize you can't get it out of your mind.

Smile and frown wrinkles that not only make him look more mature, also make him look insanely hot whenever he goes all expressive.

Drinks quite a lot, more than usual over the years, not an alcoholic but definitely likes to drink whenever he can.

Dad bod. His arms are enormous, his back is very broad. Very hairy also. A little beer tummy that he sometimes feels self conscious about, trains very hard on the days he feels particularly bad about it, ignoring the fact that you can still see his abs without him needing to flex.

Very nice, comfortable man tits for you to sleep over.

Silently possessive, only puts his hand around your waist or hip, sometimes goes all filthy and just starts delivering sloppy kisses as he stares at whoever is making him feel this way, grinning when you moan and tap out as he gropes your ass.

Still gets lost, never learned his lesson. Relies on you a lot to get to places.

Sex with him is slow and deep, his thrusts are very hard and he has to full nelson you every time just because he has broken multiple surfaces over the ship whenever he fucks you because he just can't control his strength when his cock is buried deep inside you.

Vinsmoke Sanji

Passionate man, let his hair grow because you once said he had pretty hair.

With the years his food just gets better and better, always imagining recipes whenever he's not thinking about you.

His voice gets a little deeper, it rumbles all around his chest whenever he talks. You like to fall asleep with him talking to you, its soothing to feel that.

The biggest sex drive, he CANNOT keep his hands off of you. It doesn't matter when or where, he's always ready to pounce over you and make you his.

Always smells like cigarettes, his cologne mixed with that smell is almost aphrodisiac.

Very pretty, very handsome. He evoques cute aggression from your part and only laughs whenever you get mean around him. He thinks he's sooo cool just because he has pretty hair and pretty eyes and a pretty body and a big cock.

Passionate man like I already said. Never goes rough during sex but that doesn't mean he's boring. You always end up crying from overstimulation because his words alone when he fucks you so deeply, so tight against him is enough to make your head spin.

Possessive but remains chivalrous about it. Whenever he talks about he refers to you as "My ___".

i want them dead actually

hope you enjoyed this!!!!!!!

have a great day/night

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[undiscovered-horizon]

[Mihawk prefers to keep work and his private life separate. On one rare occasion when these two have to comingle, Mihawk is rather upset at the attention you attract.]

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

When Mihawk said "It will be just a moment, my dear", you didn't think the issue would take more than half an hour. Yet here you are, two hours after he had left you in a fussy lounge in the back of Midnight Grove...

...and not a Dracule Mihawk in sight.

You let out an exasperated sigh and take another sip of your mai tai. The band is playing yet another song that sounds vaguely identical to the previous one. Similarly, the mob of other patrons seems to be merging into one, murky background of blurry figures in your eyes. Being used to the peaceful yet refined companionship of Mihawk, the aura of Midnight Grove is beyond unbearable.

Mindlessly playing with a coaster featuring a howling wolf, you don't notice a Marine cadet approaching you.

"I'm afraid I have to arrest you, my lady."

The unexpected and, frankly, unwelcome comment makes you look up from the devilishly fascinating coaster. Your eyes fall on a well-built man with long hair and a smug expression. The glint in his brown eyes makes you tense up in discomfort.

"Excuse me?" you ask him, not understanding the meaning behind his words.

The cadet gives you a bad parody of a flirtatious smile. "You look too beautiful," he purrs out.

You can't help but laugh. Somehow, you're undecided whether his pick-up disgusts or amuses you or maybe both. Perhaps his audacity forced a laugh out of you - the ring on your fourth finger is neither modest nor simple. Considering how the large gem in the golden band shone in the low light of the Midnight Grove, even a blind man could tell from a mile away that you are anything but single.

"Anyone waiting for you at home?" he continues his rather poor attempt at flirting.

With a casual flick of your wrist, you toss the coaster on the table. Feeling both curious and entertained, you decide to play along - for now, at least. "Why are you asking, sailor boy?" you question before taking another sip of your drink. The ice has melted and the diluted drink now tastes mostly of old freezer.

"He must be mighty jealous about you. And considering the gold you're wearing," he makes a point of staring at your cleavage, "a millionaire, too."

"Oh, this?" You look down at the necklace of jewels and pearls. A memory flashes before your eyes, suddenly remembering Mihawk's face, barely visible in candlelight as he clasps the jewellery around your neck, telling you sweet things only men in romance novels tend to say. "Yes, it's a gift from someone. I'm sure you know him," you tell the Marine cadet in a casual tone, already imagining how hilarious his face of terror will be when he realizes whose spouse he's been trying to woo. "Tall, yellow eyes, a rather large sword and...

"Awfully annoyed at your impertinence, boy."

The low, guttural voice laced with withheld anger makes both of you look away. There, standing right behind the cadet, is Mihawk himself. Part of his large physique blocks the scarce lighting, making him look significantly more insidious. In the twilight of the Midnight Grove, with fury burning in his eyes, Mihawk appears closer to a demon than a man.

Although the room is dark, you can clearly see the way the cadet's blood draws from his face and the way his eyes are suddenly bigger than an owl's. He scrambles to his feet, almost falling off his chair. Then, muttering apologies and promises of better behaviour, the young Marine runs off only to disappear in the crowd of Midnight Grove's patrons.

Mihawk's eyes follow the youngling for a moment.

"I should have him strung up and killed," he says more to himself than you.

"Or," you speak up, a playful smile curling your lips, "you could sit down, have a drink with your beautiful wife and gloat about the fact that you're the only man to undress her."

You might just be a witch because the change in his demeanour is instant. There is still something wild in his bright, yellow eyes but it's not bloodthirst or anger anymore. You notice how he glances at the ring and the necklace, admiring his own signs of "ownership". One would think they're big enough to send the message. Alas, some people just refuse to receive it.

"You have me convinced," Mihawk says as he sits down next to you.

[ckret2]

Chapter 89 of human Bill Cipher and his uneasy ceasefire with the Mystery Shack: Bill and Ford go to the museum to plant false clues that will fool Agent Powers into thinking Never mind all that, we're getting gay y'all

A turning point has been reached and none of them know it yet.

Also: Ford learns more about the Blind Eye than he's comfortable with, and Bill and Mabel have as much of a heart-to-heart as they can manage at like four in the morning.

####

The plan was simple. Break into the museum; watch a couple of videos, so that Ford could get a sense for how they sounded; record one of their own; strategically place it amongst the rest, along with the map that Mabel had made.

There was only one complication: the videos they'd be watching were the memories stolen by the Society of the Blind Eye.

Ford had been dying to know about them for thirty years. Back in the 80s, for a few days, the mysterious red-robed stalkers had probably done more to terrify Ford out of his sleep-deprived, paranoid mind than even Bill had. He'd realized they were the work of Fiddleford and his memory gun, but all the way up until last summer he'd never been sure whether they were Fiddleford's way of trying to forget Bill, or if Bill had infiltrated his mind and influenced him to ravage the town's minds.

Now? Ford still didn't know much more about them—just their founder, and the fact that they'd wielded Fiddleford's memory gun. He doubted even Fiddleford recalled what had inspired him to escalate from erasing his own trauma to forming a cult that literally brainwashed people; but, Ford had never asked.

There were things Ford and Fiddleford had tacitly agreed never to bring up. They didn't talk about the things they'd said to each other after the portal test. They didn't talk about the "demon" Ford had let haunt the halls the entire time Fiddleford had stayed in his house—at least, they didn't talk about the demon until he came back a few weeks ago. They didn't talk about their respective rapid mental breakdowns. They certainly didn't talk about Fiddleford's cult.

Under any other circumstances, Ford would have suspected Bill of deliberately choosing a plan that forced Ford to see Fiddleford's worst side again—except that Bill was so obviously miffed that Ford had been the only one qualified for this role. All the same, it felt like a betrayal to sneak behind Fiddleford's back and dig through his thirty-year-old dirty laundry. To go through all the things Fiddleford didn't want Ford to know and might not even remember himself.

He weighed up his desire to find out more about the cult against his loyalty to Fiddleford. As usual, Ford's curiosity won out over everything else. "Why are we using the Blind Eye?" Ford asked. "Were they one of your cults?"

Bill laughed shortly. It wasn't loud, but in the dark, silent car, it sounded like hammers on fine china. "You think the All-Seeing Eye ran the Blind Eye? Puh-leez. Your paranoia's slipped off its ball gag, Stanford." He pantomimed a pair of scissors with his hand. "If I wanted to erase anyone's memories, I'd snip 'em myself."

Ford didn't know whether or not that was a relief. Was it better to know Fiddleford had never been one of Bill's puppets, or would it have been better if Fiddleford hadn't been responsible for the Blind Eye? "Technically, you haven't said they weren't one of your—"

"No," Bill snapped. "They weren't."

Ford waited for Bill to elaborate—maybe explain why the Blind Eye had to be part of the plan? Boast about the cults he did have in the area? Insult Fiddleford's choice of mind-meddling techniques? But Bill just resumed the post he'd maintained since getting in the car: leaning against the passenger door as if trying to get as far away from Ford as possible, staring out the window at the passing night, and saying nothing. Bill had been a foul mood since leaving the house, and he was expressing it by ignoring Ford. It irked him, and he didn't know why he cared.

"All right," Ford said tiredly, "What in the world did I do to offend you today."

Bill didn't deign to reply.

"Tell me it's not because I used dollar coins."

"It's nothing you need to worry about," Bill said coldly. "Mabel just said I'm not allowed to be nice to you, that's all."

"Whatever she said, I'm sure it wasn't that," Ford said. "So you're giving me the silent treatment because you're mad at Mabel?"

"I'm not mad at Mabel and I'm not giving you the silent treatment. I don't have anything worth saying to you."

"You don't expect me to believe that. You could talk for a million years straight without pause."

"None of which you'd appreciate. Talking to you isn't worth the water vapor I'd exhale in the process."

"That's never stopped you before—"

"There's no winning," Bill snapped. "When I talk to you, you complain. When I don't, you complain. Either make up your mind or stop griping at me for existing!"

Ford shut his mouth. Yeah. All right. Fair enough.

He could only tolerate the silence for a few more seconds. "Here I thought you were the one who wanted to be friends again."

That was what made Bill explode. "Oh, that's what everyone thinks, isn't it! That I'm crawling on my hands and kneesbegging you to give me the time of day! Newsflash, Stanford: I'm over you. Ya blew it."

"Really." He would have assumed it was just another of Bill's attempts at manipulation—if Bill hadn't spent the last few days shooting down all of Ford's attempts to ask him basic questions. Now... it felt uncomfortably true.

 So, that was it? At last, Bill had given up on Ford? He should have been relieved. Instead, a part of him was disappointed.

He hadn't realized just how satisfying it was to repeatedly shoot Bill down. Satisfying to know that Bill still thought he was worth the pursuit. Ford had been so proud of himself for keeping Bill at arm's length—but did he actually want Bill any farther away than that? (After all this time, was he still just chasing Bill's approval?)

"What finally convinced you I'll never be one of your loyal little followers again?" Ford asked. "Was it the mac and cheese?"

"It didn't help," Bill said. "But no. It has a little bit more to do with the fact that you still want me dead."

Ford hit the breaks a little too soon at a stop sign so he could stare at Bill. "What in the world are you talking about? As Irecall, the last time we discussed the topic, I'd just spared your life!"

"Exactly!" Bill laughed bitterly. "Spared me because something I did gave you—" In the faint indirect glow of the streetlights, Ford could see Bill make sarcastic finger quotes, "'hope."

"Wh—That's it?! You're mad at me because I had the gall to have a little hope for you?!"

"Hope for me to what, Stanford Pines?" Bill had put on a sickeningly sweet sing-song voice, thick with venomous sarcasm. "Come on! We both know what you're hoping for, but I wanna hear you say it out loud!"

What? Ford's eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. "Hope for you to change for the better?" Had Bill assumed he meant something else?

"Exactly," Bill hissed. "What you have is hope against me. You didn't spare me—you spared an imaginary person you invented! You think I'm worth letting live because I might turn into someone else you like more—well what does that say about me?"

The quiet click of a seat belt buckle was the only warning Ford got before Bill was in his face, a finger jabbing in his chest, a sharp knee digging into his thigh. "That I'm not worth it! You're just keeping me around as a human sacrifice to the Bill Cipher you wish existed! You still wanna watch me die, you just want it without the violence! You're trying to kill me in your mind right now!"

"Bill, get off—" Ford's foot slipped off the brake pedal.

The car only jerked forward a few inches before Bill shoved the gear stick into park, all without breaking eye contact. He went on, relentless: "I'm supposed to be so grateful that I'll let you just—erase everything that makes me me and magically reincarnate as some good person—"

"You're already a good person!" Ford snarled.

It took him a moment to register that Bill was no longer trying to out-shout him. He took the opportunity to shove Bill back to his own side of the car; and then silence fell over them.

Ford stared at the seat between them. He felt like, if he looked up, Bill's eyes would be glowing in the dark. "That—didn't come out the way I meant it."

"Oh, phew, here I was trying to remember when I'd switched your definitions for 'good' and 'depraved.'"

"You are depraved. But—there's—" it was so much harder to say a second time, "—a good person in you somewhere."

"Well sure, with all the souls I've swallowed, one or two of them were bound to be—"

"Can it, I'm being serious!" Ford sucked in a sharp shaky breath. "I've seen that side of you! You've saved little girls from certain death! You saved Dipper and me! You've driven more than one hostile supernatural entity out of the house. You've said the household's under your protection. You taught Mabel and her friends to summon demons—"

"—hold on, that's a point for me?"

"It was a very informative lesson with a large emphasis on proper warding techniques," Ford said angrily. "And it wasn't the only time! You've also taught Mabel about—about alien genetics and non-Euclidean geometry and who knows what else! And maybe this is all just another one of your schemes, maybe you've made a fool of me yet again for convincing me you'd ever do anything without an ulterior motive, but—" His voice caught in his throat. He cleared it roughly. "You were—so patient with her. You were kind." The way he'd seemed kind when he'd taught Ford. "I... want to believe it's more than just a trick."

And that was the problem, wasn't it. He wanted to. Maybe Bill wasn't even suckering Ford this time; maybe Ford had suckered himself.

Bill finally muttered, "Of course I had an ulterior motive."

Ford's heart and shoulders sank. "Of course you did," he said, hollow. "What was it."

"The kid thought I thought she's stupid. When you compare her against every brat in her school that shares her last name and her birthday and her mitochondria, her GPA's at the rock bottom of the list, and that's what she's used to snotty know-it-alls judging her by—and I just so happen to know it all." Bill shrugged expansively. (That shrug he did with his hands instead of his shoulders.) "And she doesn't trust anything I say that she doesn't already believe—so if I want to convince her I know she's got plenty of neurons sloshing around under her cranium, hey, what about tricking her into cramming a college semester's worth of interdimensional science and extraterrestrial history into one afternoon!"

Ford stared at him, waiting for the rest of it. "That was your—? What kind of ulterior motive is that, that's not selfish."

"What are you talking about? Of course it is," Bill said. "Do you think I did all that for her sake? No! I did it for mine! I only hang out with her for that thousand-watt personality she's got, I'm not about to put up with her moping around like a thirty-watt busted bulb. Plus it tricked her into listening to everything I said for the rest of the day!"

"You felt bad because she felt bad," Ford said, "so you spent the rest of your day making her feel better."

"Yes," Bill sighed, "now you're getting i—" He stopped. He squinted at Ford. "You think this is some kind of empathy thing?" He sounded mildly disgusted by the suggestion.

Ford laughed, and he wasn't quite sure if it was in amazement, hysteria, or fury. "Listen to yourself! There's a good person in you—a wonderful person—and it's buried underneath the worst person I will ever have the displeasure of meeting—but it's in you." The words came out like a damning accusation. He shoved his hand deep in a coat pocket, felt around for a piece of folded paper—he didn't even need to look at it to know what it was; he'd carried it in his pockets for a week, felt it so many times that he could recognize its creases by touch alone—and he flung it into Bill's lap.

He could hear Bill unfolding the paper. Ford wasn't able to see it in the dark, but he was sure Bill could: 

A drawing of Bill, in his natural triangular form, floating in the sky with blue flames in his upraised hands, over Mabel's handwriting: "I BELIEVE IN YOU. YOU CAN CHANGE!"

"I don't believe you've changed one bit since the start of summer," Ford said. "And that means, this has always been a part of you! Just as much as the lying and the backstabbing! Any time you want, you could choose to be the muse you've always pretended to be! You already are that muse! So why don't you do it? When you could be like that every single day of your life—why are you like this?"

He heard a quick, quiet inhale from Bill. But he didn't reply.

Ford didn't even know whether he'd meant the question to be rhetorical. Part of him desperately wanted an answer.

"That's why I let you live," he said. "You're a piece of scum, Cipher. But, the chance that you might... might change, yes, but not into somebody new, just another version of who you already are... I think that—makes it worth it."

The dark almost swallowed Bill's voice: "Worth risking the universe for?"

Ford suddenly felt very vulnerable.

Bill's voice was oddly flat. Too self-controlled. "You know, coming from a guy that hates my guts, that means more to me than I can say."

"Just—shut up." Why had he ever imagined anything he said might get through to Bill.

They'd been parked at the stop sign for several minutes. Ford put the car in drive and pulled out. He heard Bill click his seat belt in place and shift to lean against the door again; and then an awkward silence fell over the car once more.

Why wasn't Bill saying anything? Privately gloating? Thinking about how he could turn this to his advantage? Congratulating himself on successfully using Mabel as a pawn to fool Ford into thinking he had a secret charitable side?

The silence was too much for Ford to bear.

Just as he was about to turn on the radio, Bill's hand shot out and snapped it on first.

A 90's R&B singer cooed, "Ohh baby, I'll give you one last try-iy-iy. Just promise, you won't break my hear-ar-art—"

Bill snapped off the radio.

They rode the rest of the way to the museum in silence.

####

Ford quietly sighed as they pulled up to the museum. Under any other circumstances, going to the museum, investigating a mind-wiping secret society, and roleplaying as a spy movie villain sounded like a great way to spend a night. He wantedto be able to enjoy it.

"Look, Bill. Neither of us wants to be here with each other, but we don't have to make each other miserable. Can we at least act..." He groped for a word.

"Friendly?"

Ford was sure he detected a hint of sarcasm. "I was thinking of something more like 'civil.'"

"Oh, of course! Let's not get unreasonable."

"Can you manage civility."

"Can you?"

"I can if you can."

"Ha! I could out-civil you in my sleep."

"Then fine."

"Fine."

"Fine." Off to a terrific start.

Ford got out and circled the car to open Bill's side.

As Bill got out, carrying the camcorder, he said, "You know, it was nice running around with that agent today! He held doors for me like he respected me. Instead of like a guard escorting a convict out of the prison bus."

Ford shut the door behind Bill. "You are a prisoner."

"Obviously!" He held up a wrist, showing off the bracelet chaining them together. "But do you think I like feeling like one?"

I don't care what you like, Ford nearly said—by reflex more than anything—then stopped himself. He wasn't about to be the first one not to be civil.

"You know, it would be really nice if I could open doors on my own—then I wouldn't have anything at all to complain about..."

"I won't compromise on the doors, but I'm willing to drop the bracelets."

That got Bill to look at him. "What?"

"You've had an opportunity to drown me, you escaped us for the weekend, and you spent an entire day seducing a government agent who would probably be thrilled to arrest everyone in the Mystery Shack if you told them you'd been kidnapped," Ford said. "If you were planning to run off, it wouldn't be here and now."

Bill's face was unreadable. But he slid off his bracelet and held it out dangling from one finger. Something in the atmosphere imperceptibly lightened as Ford took it.

Bill said, "Or maybe my grand plan is to go pound on his door at three in the morning, claim I just escaped a kidnapping, and have him catch the lot of you in the middle of drugging his agents and breaking into the police department."

"That would be just like you." Ford eyed the museum's double glass doors critically, then fished around in his pocket for his wallet. "Clever of you to admit your dastardly plan after I uncuff you."

"See, this is what makes me a real mastermind," Bill said. "I don't gloat about my brilliant plans until after it's too late for my enemies to stop 'em."

"Right, right." Ford pulled his miniature lockpicking kit from his wallet, selected a long stick with a hook on the end, and slid it into the gap between the two doors "Like when you only gloated about using me after I'd built your portal."

"Ye—"

"But before I let you through it."

Bill shot Ford an exasperated look. Ford smirked.  Bill rolled his eye. "And it was too late for you to stop me, because in the end, I got through! Checkmate."

Ford muttered, "You couldn't checkmate me if you tried."

Bill jabbed his arm with a finger. "Hey! Hey! Play me when I'm running on more than thirty minutes of nightmares and forty calories of mystery meat puree, we'll see who can checkmate who."

Ford nearly said he'd take him up that, before remembering who he was talking to. "That didn't feel like a very civil poke."

"You must be unfamiliar with poking etiquette!"

Bill was back up to his usual gregariousness. More than usual; Ford hadn't heard him this chatty in weeks. Not with him, anyway.

Just because of the bracelets? He couldn't imagine what else it might be.

He caught the hook around a hidden bar inside the door's lock, tugged it free, and unlocked the door. "Ha!" He swung the door open, beaming proudly—at Bill, who didn't look as though he'd registered that Ford had done anything interesting at all. "Oh. Right."

"'Oh right' what?" Bill walked past Ford into the museum.

"Nothing. It was just—an impressive bit of lock picking, that's all."

"Oh, I bet it was," Bill said sarcastically.

"It was!"

"And I'm supposed to just take your word for it because I can't prove you wrong? Sure."

"Why would I lie about that?!"

"To impress me!"

"I do not want to impress you!"

"That little smirk you did when you opened the door said otherwise!"

"That wasn't...!" Wait.

"So old even your body hair is gray, and you're still just a schoolboy so eager to impress your teacher that you're willing to lie!"

"I am not trying to impress you, I don't lie to teachers, and I am not lying now!"

Bill examined his nails casually. "Well if you want to convince me there's only one way! You have to give me the ability to understand what you just did!"

"Fine!" Ford reached for Bill—caught himself, and pulled his hand back. "Ah hah! Ahaha." He wagged a finger at Bill. "Nice try."

Bill grinned. He looked far too pleased with himself. "You almost fell for it."

"Not even close," Ford lied.

It was a relief to have Bill trying to get under his skin again.

While Ford dug in his pockets for a flashlight ("Didn't bring that useless Civil War lantern this time?" "I'm not lighting a kerosene lantern in a museum!"), Bill took the lead, wandering ahead into the dark. He informed Ford that they'd have to wait to visit the museum's subterranean ritual chamber until after they'd swung by the Hall of the Forgotten. This was the first Ford had ever heard of any subterranean ritual chamber beneath the museum. He would have been dying to see it first, if whatever "the Hall of the Forgotten" was didn't sound so cool.

And so, he followed Bill through the dark.

####

The Hall of the Forgotten had changed quite a bit since Bill had last seen it—mainly in terms of the quantity of memories cluttering it up.

Granted, he'd last seen it nearly twenty years ago—which was when they'd chiseled an X over the eye on the chest of the statue that watched over the room. Bill may have had billions of eyes upon Earth, but the Blind Eye had been rigorous about keeping them out of this room.

Not on purpose, he was sure—in spite of the fact that they'd taken over what had once been an Anti-Cipherite clubhouse, he was sure those idiots hadn't known a thing about him or how to counter him personally. It was simply a lingering relic of Specs's paranoia. But X-ing out any image of an eye they saw also meant X-ing out any eyes that just so happened to be intended to serve as one of his faces, and nobody was exactly flashing dollar bills around the room. He'd been frustratingly unable to keep up with the Blind Eye's movements for nigh on two decades now.

With, as it turned out, significant personal consequences.

The rebirthmark stretched across his chest itched.

As they entered the Hall and Bill didn't immediately see what he needed, he tried to peer above the third dimension to get a view past all those memory canisters piling up—and pain lanced his eye socket. He hissed, flipping up his eyepatch to press a hand over his eye. He'd more than overused his eyes today; he couldn't bend his eyes anymore until he'd gotten some rest. He'd have to look around like a normal person.

"Somewhere there should be a filing cabinet," Bill said. "Three drawers and painted a color so boring that looking at it makes you yawn. And a stock of unused canisters. Tell me if you find either of them." He started circling the room, peering around the piles, looking in the crates in hopes that he'd find one not full of old memories but fresh canisters. 

"What are all these?" Ford picked up a random canister. Bill glanced over at it; there was a label stuck to it with "ARNY WINN (TOURIST)" written on it in marker. Nobody important.

"Memories," Bill said.

Ford froze. He scanned the room, slowly making sense of what he saw—the mountains of canisters, some almost as tall as him. Bill fought back a smile, wishing that he could see the room through Ford's point of view: all these memories, people's memories, thrown in careless piles like they were nothing. There were more canisters than there were residents in Gravity Falls. It was a treasure trove of occult knowledge that Ford's precious college pal has robbed the town of—oh, that had to sting, didn't it. 

Horrified, Ford asked, "Every one of these is a memory?"

"Unfortunately, it looks like it," Bill grumbled. "Where the heck do they store the spare canisters!" He'd circled most of the room and dug at least a little into each of the crates, and hadn't found any blanks. He kicked the leg of one of a couple of heavy worktables in the room in frustration, then grunted in pain. He kicked the leg again a little harder. Oh, that was a nice. He'd do it again if he weren't worried about being able to walk without a limp the next few days. Had to be careful about doing permanent damage to this thing. He made a mental note about the work table for the next time he had the pleasure of driving a loaner body.

Ford asked, "Can we even use the canisters without the memory gun? I'd expected there to be a spare gun here."

"There'd better not be," Bill muttered, rubbing his chest. "But we don't need one! The packaging on these things is unusual to make 'em compatible with the gun—buuut at their core, they use the same tape you find in a standard video camera! If Specs was a little smarter maybe he would've designed his gun to work with the cassettes you already had in the house—but with a little jury-rigging," he lifted the camera they'd brought, "we can hook up one of the canisters to run through this baby, no prob."

Ah, there was the filing cabinet he'd been looking for: chest-high and beige, exactly where it had sat for twenty-five years, but now it was completely buried in canisters. Must not have been used for a while. Bill shoved an armful of memories off the filing cabinet, tapped twice on the top, and lifted it straight into the air as lightly as a balloon to free it from the memories burying it on every side. The pile slid in on itself and collapsed in the cabinet's wake.

Ford winced. "Careful with those! Don't break them."

"These tubes are made of plastic as thick as your incisor, they won't break." He settled it to the ground near the statue, tapped it once more to return its proper gravity, and started rummaging through its files. The Blind Eye used to keep meticulous records of all the victims they'd "helped"—name, time, date, circumstances under which they'd been brought in to have their memories erased, what they'd witnessed, who else might have witnessed it, the number of their unique memory canister—but it looked like they'd fallen behind some fifteen years ago. Probably as their memories of even their own secret society and its procedures became muddled and patchy. Bill might not have been able to watch their little club rooms from afar, but he'd certainly been able to check in on their dreams, and ohoho, were their minds a mess.

He found a well-worn folder with the memory gun's blueprints and their notes on its upkeep, and another folder with the society's membership list. He flipped through the memory gun file until he found Fiddleford's initial blueprints, and inserted Mabel's map with it, its corner peeking out of the folder like a tempting bookmark; then he emptied the top drawer's contents, plopped in the blueprint folder and the membership folder, and slammed the drawer shut.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Ford was examining the memory playback station. He had opened a drawer on one side of the console, revealing a couple dozen canisters neatly lined up.

"There they are! Finally!" Bill pulled out an empty canister. "All right, you get to researching—" He grabbed another canister off the shelf behind the robed statue, where the most important memories were stored, and plopped it down in front of Ford, "—while I set up the rest of the scene."

Ford glanced warily at the canister Bill had left for him—the one with Preston Northwest's name. "What exactly am I supposed to be researching?"

"Your character! You want to get his voice right, don't you?" Bill dug into another pile of memories, scanning the names. "Ah, this oughta be a good one." He set another in front of Ford.

"You expect me to watch these?"

Bill had already dug back into the memories, but he paused to glance at Ford. "You were planning not to?"

"I—of course I wasn't going to watch! These are records of—of people's psychic violations!"

Bill gave Ford what he hoped was an incredibly disbelieving stare.

"I mean..." Ford gestured helplessly at the memory canisters, "Sure, this is a treasure trove of Gravity Falls' lost and forgotten paranormal secrets. Of course I want to know what they contain. But finding out like this would be incrediblyunethical, since these are people's memories—and stolen memories at that—and none of them agreed for their memories to be taken, much less for me to watch them. No matter how much I'd like to—"

"Stanford Pines," Bill said. "If you'd stumbled on this room all by yourself, and if I weren't in the room inspiring you to second-guess the morality of everything you do—would you have stopped for a second before devouring these recordings as fast as you could?"

Ford thought that over. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched sheepishly. "Well."

He really was just like Bill in all the ways that mattered. He had the same appetites. If he weren't so stubbornly determined to reject everything Bill had ever taught him, by now he'd be regularly swimming in other humans' dreams just to comb through their memories—never mind watching stored memories at the museum. It was a pity for him he'd rejected all those gifts. Pity for them both.

"There's no one here for you to impress!" Bill gestured around the room, bereft of any human presence but Ford's. "But if you want to skip this part and risk getting the guy's accent a little wrong and tipping off the agents, fine! You're only risking your entire family's arrest—"

"I hate you." Ford reached for the canister with Preston's memory, then stopped and forced himself to take the other instead.

Bill turned away before the screen lit up. A woman's voice filled the room: "Where am I?! What do you think you're doing?! If you don't let me go, I swear I'll strangle you with your own stupid red bathrobes—"

Blind Ivan replied, "Be calm. Cooperate and this will all be over soon."

"Like hell am I cooperating! Let me go! HEEELP—"

"All we want is for you to tell us one thing: what is it that you have seen?"

Bill set another canister on the console. "You don't have to watch this one, Toot-Toot's not in it."

Ford had stood five feet back from the console to pretend he could literally distance himself from the violation he was participating in; but his eyes were already glued to the screen in fascination. He reluctantly dragged his gaze from the stolen memory. "If I don't need to watch it, then why are you adding it?"

"These aren't for you! I figure Agent Bermuda could use a little primer on the Blind Eye. These will show him everythinghe needs to know."

"None of them—implicate Fiddleford, do they?"

Oh, who cared if they did. Bill bit back several snide retorts. They were being civil. "No. They're all from the last five years."

Ford eyed the newest canister distrustfully.

Bill sighed heavily. "Fine! Don't take my word for it." He gestured at the playback station. "Watch it yourself, if you think we can afford to waste time!" He sat on the worktable, crossed his legs to cradle the camera in his lap, and pried it apart to get at the wires.

After the first memory ended, Ford grabbed the one Bill said he didn't need to watch. Bill had found another memory he wanted Powers to watch; but this one, he absolutely could not let Ford see. He took off his hoodie—he needed to be in his dress shirt for his part in their recording—and slipped the canister beneath it.

In between memory playbacks, Ford asked, "Does anything else in here implicate Fiddleford?"

Bill fought back another sigh. "Not directly. He took his own memory canister home when the kids brought him here." Bill would kill to find out what had happened in the museum that night. He'd been forced to stare in frustration at the hallways while agitated cultists and an entire half of Bill's zodiac ran back and forth between the Blind Eye's eye-free chambers. Spectacles recovering his full memories just days before Stanley was scheduled to reactivate the portal could have spelled disaster. "There might be a few memories in here that he recorded personally before Toot-Toot took over—but he was involved in the Blind Eye for under two years before he scrambled his own brains, anything he recorded is probably buried somewhere at the bottom of these mountains. Even I wouldn't know where they are."

Ford hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. "Fine."

Why in the world did he want to protect that hick so much anyway? When Ford found out one friend was up to secret shady things, he swore a thirty-year revenge mission against him; when he found out the other one was, his biggest worry was making sure he didn't get arrested for it! Bill had done far more for Ford than that walking waste of potential ever had or ever could—and of the two of them, Bill might have invaded Ford's brain, but he never erased part of it. Not without putting almost all of it back later, anyway! Oh, no no no—when Ford confronted Bill about what he'd been doing behind Ford's back, he didn't destroy the mnemonic evidence and deny everything, he owned up to it! It was admirable, really! But who did Ford consider "trustworthy"? Why didn't Bill warrant that kind of loyalty?

It was unfair. It made Bill feel... sick. That was probably the emotion he was feeling. Sick, that Ford wanted so badly to patch things up with that cowardly, backstabbing, underachieving loser, while he'd written Bill off completely.

(Not completely, Bill reminded himself. And then he buried that thought as deep into his subconscious as he could.)

Ford watched a few more random memories while Bill attached the empty canister to the camera with electrical tape; Bill heard him mutter, "'What is it that you have seen?'" under his breath, trying to match Ivan's inflection. Eh, Ford wouldn't win anything at the Academy, but it was good enough for community theater.

When Bill glanced over, one of Ford's hands was twitching toward his coat pocket the way it did when he wanted to grab his pen and start taking notes. He gradually moved closer to the console with each playback; by the time he turned the screen off, he was leaning on the console with both hands. "I think I've got the hang of my role."

"Great. Stick that first memory you watched back in, I want Powers to see it first." Bill hopped off the table, holding up the camera. "Ready for your acting debut?"

####

Half an hour later, as they walked back from the Blind Eye's ritual chamber to the Hall of the Forgotten, Bill said, "That wasn't so bad, was it!" He was spinning the canister with their false memory on one finger. (He'd almost dropped it three times.)

"No," Ford admitted grudgingly. "It was... a bit like Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons."

"Ugh."

"Except more immersive than pen-and-paper roleplay," Ford mused. "Maybe I was overly hasty when I dismissed Soos's invitation to FCLORP."

"Ugh. You're already nerdy enough, stay away from that slippery slope," Bill said. "Marker-and-cardboard isn't the step up from pen-and-paper you think it is. You wanna know why this is more immersive? Because you believe in the game you're playing now. Sure, you're only pretending to be the Blind Eye's boss—but you're actually part of a conspiracy to bamboozle a federal investigation."

Bill politely (smugly) pretended not to notice the gleam in Ford's eye—mainly because, if he dared point it out, Ford would immediately try to convince them both he wasn't enjoying this. "I suppose that's true," Ford said. "Fantasy can't measure up to reality. Pretending to battle undead sorcerers to plunder their dungeons has never been as thrilling as actually battling undead sorcerers to plunder their dungeons."

"Exac—hey, when did you ever battle undead sorcerers?"

"I needed a thousand-carat blessed antiprism to focus the beam of the Quantum Destabilizer, so I went to Dimension 777.7—"

Bill laughed in delighted surprise. "Hold on, you found the lost treasure of the Undying Sentinels of the Sacred Mines? Aww, you shouldn't have," he cooed. "I prefer gold, but I'm flattered you went so far just to get such an expensive diamond for me!"

Ford pretended not to hear him. "DD&MD still has its advantages, though," Ford said. "In real life, I don't get to do as much math in the middle of combat."

"And there he goes, tripping down the slope into the Gorge of Geekery."

Back in the Hall of the Forgotten, Bill wrote "GOLDIE LOCKE (VISITOR)" on their false memory's label and planted it prominently on the memory playback station with the other memory canisters he'd chosen for Powers. "Ta-da! Trap set." He added a date in 2009 to one of the canisters, and loaded it into the station so Powers would watch it first; then scooped up his hoodie. "Wanna watch another couple before we go?"

Ford looked longingly around at the room full of free information; then shook his head. "No! No. I watched what I had to for this plan of yours work, and that's it. You won't make a voyeur out of me."

"I don't have to! You're already a voyeur—and you've got the gnome mating ball photos to prove it!"

"That was for scientific research and the answer is still no."

Bill tucked his hoodie under one arm so he could pick up a memory canister, casually switch it out with the one currently loaded in the memory playback station, and click it down into place. "Oops!"

"Nope! Nope!" Ford marched determinedly toward the door, hands covering his ears. "I am not watching any more! I'm an ethical scientific researcher!"

"No you aren't!"

"Let me pretend!" Ford veered around a pile of memory canisters.

And he locked his eyes onto one canister, immediately did a U-turn back to the pile, picked it up, marched right back to the memory playback station, removed the one Bill had started, plugged the new one in, and crossed his arms.

The recording opened up on a shot of Mayor Befufftlefumpter, sitting in his wheelchair looking around placidly.

"What is it that you have seen?" "Speak!"

"Well, uh..." The major tapped his chin. "My vision isn't quite what it used to be..."

"Just describe it as best you can," Ivan said.

"Alrighty. Welp! I was visiting my office in Town Hall for the first time in ten years, looking for some coupons I think I left at my desk, when this bear walked through the wall—"

Ford smacked the console. "I knew he knew something about the ghost bears!"

He didn't look at Bill. "Stop smiling like that."

When the former mayor had finished recounting his tale of ursine phantoms, Ford stomped toward the door, red in the face, without looking at Bill.

Before Bill followed, he switched out the canisters again for the one he wanted Powers to see first—and took out the canister hidden in his hoodie to balance it carefully on the right corner of the console.

####

Bill diverged from their path into the museum to pluck an out-of-date calendar for the museum's May events from a corkboard, and around the corner a new addition to the museum caught Bill's eye: a heavy black curtain had been hung over one wing, and it was surrounded by signs reading "NO PHOTOGRAPHY" "NO CAMERAS" "🚫📷" That was intriguing. He'd just love to find out what was behind that curtain.

But Ford wouldn't slow down just to go sightseeing; and as badly as Bill's eyes were throbbing, he shouldn't try to peer through the curtain that way.

That was fine. He could wait to see what was in that wing. If everything worked out, he'd be back here tomorrow.

####

As they approached the exit, Ford mumbled in nobody's particular direction, "I'm sorry."

Bill gave him a suspicious look. "What?"

"For the mac and cheese," he told the floor. He stuffed his hands self-consciously in his pockets and felt like an idiot. "And giving you burnt eggs instead. It was... petty."

Bill didn't answer. When he stopped walking, it took Ford a moment to remember that he had to get the door. He pushed it open. 

Bill walked past Ford without looking at him. He said lightly, "Were they burned? I didn't notice. I didn't eat them."

Apology not accepted, apparently. "Well. I'm sorry anyway."

Bill scoffed. "I'd kill to be able to take a peek under your skull." (Ford suspected that wasn't a hyperbole.) "One day you're laughing in my face for thinking you worshiped me, a week later you're saving my life. All your multiverse-hopping must've scrambled your brain. Tragic, since that's the only thing you had going for you."

Ford re-locked the museum's doors behind them. "You don't think there are any options in between worshiping you or wanting you dead?"

"I'm not the kind of person who inspires indifference."

"That's true."

Bill stretched as they walked to the car—fingers laced together, palms turned out, arms lifted over his head. It was a muggy night, and Ford could feel the layers of his sweater and trench coat cling damply to his back; but when Bill's baggie hoodie sleeves fell down to his shoulders, he lowered his hands, shook out the sleeves, and hooked his thumbs in the cuffs so the sleeves wouldn't fall again when he repeated the stretch. "Just get me back to the tomb. This body needs a little sleep before Romeo comes looking for me tomorrow."

"'Romeo'? Are you planning to trick him into drinking poison?"

Bill flashed him a wicked grin. Sometimes Ford was still hit by how incorrect Bill's human face looked—a mouth too low, teeth shaped like tombstones instead of arrowheads—and it was usually at moments like this, when the gleeful curve of his eyes was so familiar. "Hmm, now that's a thought! Not yet; but you should know better than to give me fun ideas."

####

"How was it?" Mabel asked anxiously, the moment the back door unlatched.

She was answered with a piece of paper shoved over her face. "The good news is I got something for your last project," Bill said. "The bad news is Ford's considering taking up FCLORP. Talk him out of it."

"I'll make all his cardboard armor."

"When I get access to my gang's group chat again, I'm inviting you just so I can ban you."

"It was fine," Ford told Mabel. "We had no trouble getting in and out and I think our recording was convincing."

"Did you... get along?"

Ford paused. "We were—civil."

"Ha!" Bill crowed. "And you thought I couldn't do it!"

"I did not. I thought you wouldn't do it."

Mabel inspected the calendar page Bill had given her. Aww, the last weekend in May they'd decorated straw hats with live bird nests and she'd missed it.

Bill trudged into the living room, flopped into Abuelita's chair, and said, "Wake me up if anyone needs orders." He pulled his hood down over his face and retracted his arms from his sleeves. 

"Is there anything else I have to do?" Ford asked.

"Uhhh..." It took Bill a long moment to summon up an answer. "No. Go sleep. Up here, in case I change my mind."

"Fine," Ford said, sighing in relief.

Mabel waited until he'd headed upstairs to get ready for bed; then crept into the living room. "Hey, Bill?"

"Hmm?" He tilted his head just enough for one tired eye to peer out from the shadows beneath his hood. "Aren't you supposed to be writing a threatening anonymous letter?"

"It's fine, Grunkle Stan isn't back yet." She sat in Stan's chair by Bill. "So..." She sheepishly tried to dodge around having to apologize. "Are... we cool?"

"I dunno. Are you cool?" Bill asked. "You're not going to turn lame on me, are you?"

"What! Why would I turn lame? I'm literally the coolest."

"Well, I thought you were cool," Bill said. "But if you were only being cool until you thought we were close enough you could start nagging me about everything—"

"No! No. It was just a one-time thing, promise. Because you and Grunkle Ford have a history, and I had to make sure he's safe—"

"Safe from all that flirting I've never done with him?"

"I got worried, okay!"

Bill crossed his arms under his hoodie. "Find another way to worry. Maybe one that doesn't involve scolding me for something I never did," he said. "If I had been trying to sweep your uncle off his unexpectedly five-toed feet, that'd be one thing—"

"(I didn't need to know how many toes he has.)"

"—but when I wasn't and you keep treating me like I'm already guilty—" He stopped, and said suddenly, as if he were changing topics, with a slight sharp tilt to his head like an old-fashioned TV dial being turned to another station, "Didja know it's way less annoying to be called a liar when you are lying? If you weren't lying but no one believes you, it kinda makes you wonder—why are you wasting your breath telling the truth in the first place!" How much Bill had just offered her about himself?

She sank back in her chair, trying to figure out how to reply. I'm sorry didn't seem to cut it. She suspected Bill really had offered her something; she wanted Bill to know she got it. "One of my teachers thought I copied Dipper on a book report. Because she thought mine was too good."

Bill considered that. "Fifth grade?"

"You already knew about it."

"Not this time," Bill said. "Buuut I know that's the year you started skipping the assigned reading. And I don't blame ya! If you're gonna get a worse grade for working harder, you can save a lot of precious time by phoning it in."

"Yeah." Unexpected relief flooded over Mabel. "Yeah, that's—that's it." She'd never been able to put it into words. Her parents had been worried, Dipper had been exasperated with her. Bill had hit the nail on the head in one sentence.

"Been there. I had a teacher who thought I was using my eye to cheat," Bill said. "So you know what? I did!" He laughed, absolutely no shame.

Being called a cheater had been the most humiliating thing to ever happen in Mabel's seemingly never-ending academic career; Bill's apathy was almost enviable. "Okay. So. There's no emotional stuff going on with you and Grunkle Ford." Just to clear the air. They could agree on it and move on.

But even though Bill had denied it immediately the first time, now, his eyes flickered uncertainly before he said, "Right. None."

That had been less definitive than she'd hoped. "None?"

"No romantic emotional stuff," Bill said. "I think we've cycled through just about every other emotional cocktail that human neurotransmitters can mix up, but desire isn't one of them."

Mabel decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Then what are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," Bill said. "My brain's empty. Four pounds of inert meat with no neurons firing."

"Oh, come on." She jabbed a finger into his cheek. "I can see it on your face! What's bothering you?"

He scrunched a shoulder to guard his cheek. "Nothing bothers me."

Mabel hissed, "Yes it doesssss." She leaned across the gap between their seats to jab Bill's shoulder with both hands. "I can sssmell it."

"Retune your sniffer, Miss Nose-y!" He flipped one of his empty sleeves to wave away her hands like a couple of mosquitos; but something in his eyes had shifted, something in the tilt of his pupils. He was caving. "I was just thinking about what you'd said about the—the goofy little 'be yourself' moral the critters are so fond of."

She had to think back to their conversation yesterday: where she'd tried (and failed) to explain that be yourself didn't mean be a jerk, even if you were really good at being a jerk. "You were?" Even now, Mabel was surprised whenever she found out that Bill had been actually thinking about Color Critters when they weren't watching it. It was good that he was thinking about it—she was trying to use the cartoon to teach him morals, after all—but she kept assuming that Bill treated Color Critters the way she treated pre-algebra. "You'd better not try to use it as an excuse to be a jerk again..."

"No, not that. I—figured out what you meant," he said. "It's 'be yourself,' but—not sink down to your worst self. Rise up to meet your best potential. Be the..." he made a vague gesture ceilingward. "The best version of yourself."

"I... Yeah. I guess so. Yeah." Where the heck had that come from?

"This is supposed to be a cartoon for kindergarteners," Bill said wryly. "Their target audience can't even read yet, and they're expecting these kids to read between the lines?"

"Aww, was the kindergarten show's moral too complicated for you?"

"Shut your face. I figured out what it meant, didn't I?" Bill's eyes turned toward the doorway a moment before Mabel heard Ford's bootsteps coming downstairs. He pushed his arms back into his hoodie sleeves properly and timed his exit of the room so he was swooping onto the stairs the moment Ford stepped off. "I can't catch a nap down here," he griped. "Somebody thinks she's more important than this tyrannical body's need for R&REM."

"Sorryyy!"

"You are more important," Bill called down the stairs. "But that's the thing about tyrants! You can't reason with them."

Mabel should be getting to work on her next art assignment, anyway. But before she did, she followed Ford to his room and grabbed his sleeve. "Grunkle Ford, what'd you say to Bill while you guys were gone?"

"What?" He gave her a puzzled look. "Say to him about what?"

"I dunno! But you must've said something to him. He's been thinking thoughts."

Bewildered, Ford shrugged. "Whatever I said, it was the wrong thing. He gave me the silent treatment most of the way to the museum. I suspect he's even more irritated with me now."

Somehow, Mabel didn't think he was. She hugged Ford. "Well, whatever you said? Thank you."

####

Bill dug out his burner phone and plugged it into the extension cord Soos had strung into the room. He considered sneaking out his stolen journal to slide Mabel's crayon portrait in it, then elected to just hide it beneath the couch cushions. So that it would be within arm's reach, in case he ever needed it. For some reason.

And then Bill slept.

Or—tried to.

This stupid body needed it; he'd been up almost 22 hours, burning the psychological oil as he tried to pull together this scheme—and he'd had an hour or two of very vigorous exercise in the midst of all the scheming. By all rights, he should be out like a rock that vividly hallucinated 3-5 times a night.

But instead, he kept thrashing in his thin sheet, twisting and trying to get comfortable. He couldn't quiet his mind. Too restless. The thoughts he'd tried to drown in his subconscious had bobbed back to the surface. Hearing over and over in his head, there's a good person in you. A wonderful person. A wonderful person. A person worth risking a universe for.

Him.

Any time you want, you could choose to be the muse you've always pretended to be.

You already are that muse.

Dr. Stanford "Six-Fingers" Filbrick Pines had said that about him. The one and only Bill Mischief Cipher. Ford knew exactly who and what Bill was—and he'd said that about him.

He couldn't sleep. He could feel his heart fluttering in its cage. He could feel his lungs struggling to grasp at the thin air. He felt dizzy. His brain burned.

By the time Bill's mind finally quieted, he'd squirmed and clawed his way halfway across the orange couch. As his consciousness blinked out, he dully registered the scent in the cushion: the comforting scent of the Nightmare Realm. The smell of burning hair.

######

(Post-TBOB changes! Inserted one or two sentences saying the Anti-Cipherites originally used the Blind Eye's meeting places—I'd already decided the Blind Eye got the place due to a connection with the Northwests (and had already written a scene expanding on that), and Abigale Northwest née Blackwing is the only person with both the motivation and resources to build weird culty ritual chambers beneath the museum, so thanks TBOB.

Added some subtle Theraprism allusions to the wording of Bill's "you don't wanna save me, you wanna save some person you've imagined me to be" speech; he's always been indignant & defensive in this fic at the idea of people trying to "benevolently" "fix" him, TBOB just backs that up. Added a couple mentions of Bill's death scar. Since we were already talking about Bill & Mabel's slipshod school careers, I slipped in a light allusion to Bill's disdain for assigned reading.

Everything else is the same. One of the most common post-TBOB questions I've been asked is "are you gonna make it gay[er] in the wake of TBOB?" and my answer is always: no, I'm going to make it exactly as gay as I'd planned to since 2023, on the same schedule I've always had planned. This chapter very much included.)