#and that might start to make you uncomfortable

[cinnonym]

putting my own tags here because they inspired me to write a fic and it doesn't make sense without them (i think). anyway, here goes:

After the Idea comes the silence, a heavy, horrible thing in the stillness of the office. It yawns and stretches, then settles like a beast for the night, unperturbed by anything but their breaths: Regina’s, slow and pronounced from where she perches on the desk, and Emma’s own, stumbling with the effort to not be suspicious. To not be afraid and wet and wanting in light of the Idea.

The call has ended; Regina ended it. The Idea has affected her as well, even if she is breathing slowly now, Emma is sure: when the Idea was uttered, Regina’s finger twitched. Emma saw it. It was the last thing she saw, before her heart started hammering and her gaze slipped and scrambled for cover, before her brain caught up with the mentioning of the Idea and all its implications. In the space between hearing and understanding, she saw. She saw Regina’s index finger spasm once, curling inwards into a sudden, protective claw, before it relaxed again and ended the call. Then she stopped moving altogether.

Emma wishes, abruptly and with surprising ferocity, that she had never developed the habit of watching Regina so closely. The motion of a single finger – what kind of a creep does one have to be to even notice that, let alone be able to interpret it? The hitch of Regina’s breath, too, the rigidity of her posture, the oppressive, unnatural, ever-extending silence –

But of course, Emma isn’t actually mad at her observation skills, or at knowing Regina Mills well enough to read every line of her body. She’s just mad at the Idea. At how, having been spoken into existence, it is bearing down on them like a weight, like a sharp-edged, monstrous weight that has been dropped on the tightrope that is their relationship, shocking it into oscillation. And where before they could be content in their balance, a reaction to the Idea is now inevitable. Underneath the silence lies a growing need:

They must talk about it.

The problem with the Idea is that it’s not new; it has made a home of Emma’s mind long ago. She means this not in a crude, disrespectful manner, quite the opposite: the Idea, to her, is a soft thing, a want so heartfelt that she cannot but lock it away, for fear it may be harmed in its exposure to the world. Her Idea, that is, her idea of the Idea, her wish for it, is unspeakable, and thereby unfeasible.

Now, however, it has been spoken. It has been heard, which is even worse, for in hearing it, the Idea now exists in Regina’s mind as well. It has spread, it has breached Emma’s carefully constructed containment, and here they are, sitting in silence, both of them thinking about it, which means they must talk about it.

While Emma is still wrestling with that conclusion, the silence around her becomes brittle and breaks as Regina finally emerges out of her petrification and slips off the desk. Her heel hits the floor with a clack; she exhales.

“Well,” she says then. “That’s Cruella for you. She doesn’t mince her words any more than she would her beloved furs.”

Emma swallows. She still doesn’t dare to meet Regina’s eyes for fear of what she might find in them. It seemed so clear to her that they cannot simply move on from this, that the speaking of the Idea must have consequences, yet Regina’s voice is business-like as ever, unperturbed except for the slightest waver in it towards the end, and that may just have been disapproval for Cruella’s fashion choices.

She decides to venture a chuckle. “Right…”

Another silence ensues, and Emma wants to scream. She can feel Regina’s gaze on her, but cannot read it without looking up. Concern, disapproval, anger… Regina could feel anything towards her now, and Emma would be none the wiser. It’s terrifying to be so in the dark about what is going on inside Regina, terrifying and unfamiliar and almost uncomfortable enough to make Emma give in and chance a glance at her. But she doesn’t, because the only thing worse than the not knowing is her fear of the knowing.

After another minute or so, Regina sighs. “Don’t listen to her,” she says quietly. “She only lashes out like this because she’s been in love with Ursula for years and is too afraid to do something about it.”

“What?” That gets Emma to look up, she can’t help it. Blood rushes in her ears and she’s aware that her eyes are too wide, too tell-tale, but she simply must know what Regina’s face looks like, in the aftermath of having said that. If it’s flushed as hers is, or tight with anger and repulsion, indignant about the indecency of the Idea that is desiring your best friend.

But as Emma turns towards Regina, Regina turns away, and her face remains unreadable. Only her breath can give any indication of her state of mind, and it is as slow and conscious as before. Inhale. Exhale. Then: “It’s true. Everybody can see it, except for Ursula herself.”

A thought occurs to Emma, a convoluted thing of metaphor and displacement, a theory so hopeful and yet so improbable that she only knows to voice it in cipher. “How,” she says, “does Ursula feel about Cruella?”

If Regina freezes, it’s only for a second; then she finally looks Emma in the eye. Her gaze is heavy and meaningful. “I don’t know. I have never asked her.”

“I think,” Emma says carefully, “communication could help in many such cases.”

Regina inclines her head, just barely.

“I also think,” Emma continues, “that sometimes a little nudge from someone else can help. In such cases.”

There’s a loaded pause, an opposite silence to the one from before. That was a divided silence, a tense, uncomfortable thing. This one is so mutually charged, it sparks.

Regina is again the one to break it; she smiles. “An inappropriate phone call should do it.”

And Emma nods. “I know exactly what to say…”

[lucydixon]

Julia's Best Friend Headcanons

I think I'm gonna follow this up with a one-shot... or two, idk.

The first time you came by the Campbell house, Erik wasn’t home. You’d met Julia at the local Community college, and the two of you had immediately hit it off.

When she learned, a few weeks into your friendship, that you had no family in the area, she insisted on having you over for the First Campbell Barbeque of the season. 

The Campbell family welcomed you with open arms, so generous and caring that it made you a little uncomfortable at first. You weren’t close with your family, and you certainly weren’t used to being hugged by strangers when you introduced yourself to them. 

An hour in, you were sipping on a margarita and playing board games with Julia, her cousin Charlie, and her younger brother, Bobby, who reminded you of a little puppy. He was just so bright-eyed and innocent, despite being in his senior year of high school, and it was adorable. 

You fit right in, and it didn’t take long for Julia to start bringing you home with her all the time. 

The first time you saw Erik, you were draped across the basement couch, watching a movie with Julia and Bobby. The two of you locked eyes the second he walked into the room, clutching a beer bottle. He was about to take a sip, but it was frozen halfway to his mouth. 

Your head cocked slightly to the side and a half smirk tugged at your lips. “Jules, you didn’t tell me your brother was hot.” You thought he might get flustered. You’d hoped for it, even. But he just matched your energy and asked his sister, “Who’s the babe?”.

And so, the game began. 

Every time you and Erik crossed paths in the weeks that followed. You made flirty remarks and batted your lashes at him, smiling coyly. Julia always rolled her eyes, so you both figured it was okay.

You’d call him ‘old man’, and he’d call you ‘kid’ as if there wasn’t just a four-year difference between your twenty-three and twenty-seven. Neither of you had made any kind of move. It was just harmless flirting. Right?

The next time the Campbell siblings had a movie night, Erik sat right next to you with a sly little smirk, facing forward. He was so close that you were almost touching. So close that you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. 

You weren’t about to lean into him, and he wasn’t about to lean into you either. Neither of you was willing to be the one who ‘caved’ when it came to physical contact, which just turned into a relentless back and forth between the two of you. You’d almost brush up against him in the hallway, and he’d hover when you were brushing your teeth on nights you slept over. 

It wound up being both of you that folded at the same time. The fleeting glances had started to linger, and the urge to make contact was growing overwhelming for both of you. It had been a stupid movie, something Bobby had been watching, and the rest of you sat down to join him. It was about a girl sneaking around with her best friend's brother, and it just hit a little too close to home. 

Bobby and Julia had both fallen asleep, and you and Erik had exchanged a look. A clear look of intention. You’d both gotten up without exchanging a word and gone into Erik’s room downstairs. 

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics Gif Made by @jst2guyz

[goomyloid]

ty for also being so based about kriselle. just got into deltarune with the new chapters and jesus fucking christ these estranged childhood friends turned into… traumatized murder accomplices has me in a chokehold. everything about the weird route makes me utterly insane. other than the ferris wheel, what other messed up scenes do you want between these two? i’m personally rooting for a recreation between whatever went down with Dess (and possibly Kris?) in the bunker.

thankyou... this is exactly what i hoped would happen with the new chapters welcome to the team man. heres a wip i probably wont finish

want to immediately get closer to your estranged childhood friend overnight? just become secret murder accomplices in such a way where there are strange romantic undertones to the whole ordeal what the hell sure

uhh scenes i want to see... hmmm... aside from the ferris wheel, i think i just hope like, they spend a lot of time together at the festival... i want it to be deeply uncomfortable and eerie especially because noelle might be in a strangely good mood? Looking forward to it? While kris is just miserable. peak dynamic

i dont necessarily know how much i want to see this happen but i think it would be an extremely interesting turn of events if noelle, with her newfound power and confidence, starts to really pursue What She Wants (which may include any number of friends or family members' safety and health) (my personal hunch) (or something crazy like literally becoming an angel) (wait actually thats kinda fire i hope that happens now) and kris gets pushed aside from the story as collateral almost. like i simultaneously do and dont want it to happen. i want their fates to be so irreversibly deeply intertwined but i also want things to be utterly heartbreaking at every turn i want them to get WORSE. do NOT heal each other. Stew in your misery and die together. (said lovingly)

[lvrsturniolo]

𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 -c.s

warnings; smut. lots of toy use tbh. anal(if that makes you uncomfortable pls pls pls don’t read this! that’s what’s going on the entire time). lots of praise. pet names(sweet girl, pretty girl, bun, bunny, etc.). This is not proofread because I’m blazed and im lazy 😛.

wc: 3.7k

starring.. BOYFRIEND!CHRIS X BUNNY!READER

01: GIFT ONE

The sun was setting when Chris came home, the soft golden light spilling through the windows of your shared bedroom. You were curled up on his bed, oversized hoodie covering your bare legs, a book open in your lap. He walked in slowly, carefully, like he always did.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he murmured, dropping his keys on the nightstand and kneeling in front of you.

You looked up, shy smile curling on your lips. “Hi, Chris.”

He kissed your knee through the hoodie. “Missed you today.”

You nodded. “Missed you too.”

Chris reached behind him and pulled a small velvet box out of his backpack, setting it gently on your lap. You blinked down at it, fingers tightening on the edges of your book.

“What’s this?” you whispered.

“Just a little surprise,” he said softly, reaching to brush your hair back. “I picked it out just for you.”

Your heart fluttered. With a deep breath, you opened the box carefully.

Inside, nestled in satin, was a beautiful pink glass plug. The base was shaped like a little heart. You’d talked about doing this a few times, it was always something you’d been curious about— you didn’t know he was really listening though.

Your breath hitched.

Chris moved slowly, gauging your reaction, his voice velvet-smooth. “It’s pretty, huh?”

You nodded, cheeks burning. “It’s… really pretty.”

“I thought so too,” he said, voice dipping lower as he reached out and ran his fingers lightly over your thigh. “Thought it might help my pretty girl start getting ready. Only if you want to, okay? We can take our time.”

You nodded, eyes wide and trusting. “Okay.”

“Yeah? You want to bun?” he asked gently.

“Y-yes— I do.” you whispered, and he leaned up to kiss your cheek.

Chris laid you on your tummy on the bed, hoodie tugged up, panties off. He sat between your legs, hands warm and slow as he rubbed soft lube over your ass, then leaned forward to kiss the small of your back.

“You’re so good for me, bun,” he murmured. “Always so sweet. Thank you for trustin’ me sweet girl.”

Your breath was shaky as you nodded. “I-I’ll always trust you.”

“I know you will baby,” he praised, smiling as he picked up the plug, now warmed in his palm. “We’ll start slow, just a little pressure, okay? Just let me know if anything doesn’t feel good.”

You made a soft noise of agreement, hiding your face in the pillow. Chris spread your cheeks gently, fingers so careful as he circled your hole with lube again.

“Relax for me, baby,” he whispered, kissing the back of your thigh. “Take a deep breath.”

You did—and as you exhaled, he pressed the tip of the plug slowly against you, not pushing, just holding it there. You whimpered softly, your hips twitching, but Chris’s other hand came to your lower back, grounding you.

“Shh, there you go… that’s my good girl. Just breathe. You’re doing so well already.”

The plug slid in slowly, just the tip at first, then a bit deeper, until the bulb was nestled inside. You gasped, instinctively clenching, but Chris ran his hand up and down your spine.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “God, you look so perfect like this— you’re so pretty baby.”

You squirmed, feeling so full, even though the plug itself wasn’t that large.

“It’s so much,” you whispered.

“I know, bun,” he cooed, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder. “But you’re doing amazing. You look so pretty with it in.”

His fingers brushed the heart-shaped base, pressing it lightly against your skin.

“I’m gonna leave it in for just a few minutes tonight, okay?” he said. “Then we’ll take it out, clean you up, and cuddle. Just a little step.”

You nodded again, voice barely audible. “Y-yes sir”

He groaned softly at the nickname, lips finding the back of your neck. “Fuck, I love when you call me that.”

You stayed there, face down, cheeks hot and heart pounding, while he whispered sweet praise in your ear. “Such a brave girl, hm? So fucking beautiful like this— makes me ‘s proud of you baby.”

He took the plug out gently, cleaned you up, and tucked you under the blankets. His hoodie swallowed your frame again, and you curled up against his chest like always, soft and pliant.

“I love you, bun,” he whispered against your hair.

“I love you too,” you murmured, sleepily. “Thank you… for going slow.”

“I’ll always go slow for you,” he promised. “If you ever feel rushed, let me know okay?”

“Mkay,” you mumble softly before drifting off to sleep.

02: GIFT TWO

The plug became part of your routine after that first night. You never had to ask—Chris always knew when to bring it out. Some nights, it would be after a movie, while you were curled up in his lap. Other times, it was early morning, when you were still soft and sleepy under the covers. He never rushed, never forced—just waited for the soft, shy nod that meant you were ready and you wanted it.

The second time he used it, he whispered, “Let’s see if you can take it a little longer tonight, yeah?”

You nodded, biting your lip, laying down on your tummy like before. You always hid your face when he touched you there—it made you feel too vulnerable, too exposed—but Chris loved it.

“You’re real cute when you’re shy,” he told you, massaging your hips while he spread lube with two fingers. “But I don’t want you to hide too much. You’re beautiful, bun. Especially when you’re like this.”

Every time he slid the plug in, it got easier. Not easy—but easier. The sting turned into pressure. The pressure turned into warmth. And after a week, you caught yourself clenching around it. Needing more. Wanting more.

Chris noticed that too.

One night, after he’d settled the plug inside and sat back to admire how the heart-shaped base peeked out from between your soft cheeks, he ran his palm gently down your spine.

“You like it more now, sweet girl?” He asked, softly kissing your collarbone. “I can feel that you do, your body tells it all.”

You whimpered and nodded, pushing your hips into the bed. “I—I do…”

He leaned over you, lips brushing your ear.

“You wanna take the next step?” he asked. “Something just a little bigger, a little deeper?”

You turned your head to look at him, eyes wide and shiny. “What kind of step?”

Chris smiled, and that smile made your stomach flip.

“I got you one more gift.”

The box was longer this time. He opened it in front of you, lifting out a slim, pretty glass dildo with a pink heart tip that’s almost the same color as the plug. Its longer and elegant, with soft curves down its shaft. It shimmered in the light like something out of a dream.

Your thighs squeezed together.

Chris caught it instantly. “See?” he grinned, kissing your temple. “Your body’s already curious.”

“It’s so… pretty,” you whispered, reaching to trace the glass.

“It’s a little smaller than me,” Chris added, his voice dropping. “Way thinner. But a little deeper than the plug. I wanna try it on you, bun. Get you used to having more.”

You swallowed hard, face burning. “Okay.”

He took his time—long, slow kisses on your neck while you laid on your side, one leg hooked over his thigh. You were completely bare waist down, wrapped in nothing but Chris’s hoodie, trembling under his touch.

“I’ll go slow,” he whispered, pressing kisses down your belly. “Just breathe and let me open you up baby.”

He started with his fingers—two, slick and careful, gently stretching you open as you whined into the pillow.

“Such a good girl… so tight, you takin my fingers so well, bun. Just like that… yeah?”

When he replaced them with the tip of the dildo, you gasped—cool glass touching hot, soft skin.

“Deep breath, baby,” he said, coaxing it slowly in. “There you go. That’s it.”

You cried out softly as it slid deeper than the plug had ever reached—cool, smooth, and so full.

“F-Feels so— full,” you whimpered.

Chris’s voice dropped to a low hum. “You are full, bun. And you’re doing so fucking good.”

He didn’t thrust—not at first. Just held it there, watching your body flutter and clench.

“You’re squeezing so tight around it, baby,” he whispered, completely entranced. “Pretty ass loves this, I knew she would.”

When he finally started moving it—tiny strokes, just a little motion—you nearly broke.

You moaned, back arching, and Chris’s free hand slid between your legs.

“Wanna make you cum just like this,” he whispered.

You gasped. “Chrisss…”

“You close?” he asked, his hand gently rubbing your clit.

You nodded frantically. “Please—feels so good—don’t stop—”

When you came, the dildo still deep inside, your body tensed around the glass and Chris groaned.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “So pretty when you cum.”

He held you while you trembled, still snug around the dildo, lips pressed to your temple.

“Think you’re almost ready, bun,” he said softly. “Almost ready to take all of me.”

You whimpered. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, rocking the dildo just a little. “I can feel it. Your body’s much more relaxed now.”

03. READY

It was a quiet night. Rain tapped against the window, soft and steady. You were curled up in Chris’s bed, one of his T-shirts hanging loose off your frame, nothing underneath. Your cheek was pressed to his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. It’d been a few weeks since the first time you used the dildo, but you’d used it multiple times since, getting more and more comfortable with it.

He brushed his fingers through your hair and kissed the top of your head.

“Chris?” You whisper softly, not daring to look up at him because of the nasty things you’re about to say.

“Hm? What is it baby?” He mumbles back, noticing you ducking your head down low.

You peeked up at him, eyes wide and warm. “I like it… when you stretch me out— and w-when you say nice things.”

Chris’s smile made your stomach flip. “I know you do. You’re my good girl. You like being taken care of.”

You nodded shyly, pressing your face into his chest. “I wanna do more.”

He stilled for a second. “More?”

“I wanna try. The real thing,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I want you to be… in me.”

His breath caught, and he tilted your chin up gently to look you in the eye.

“You sure?”

You nodded, cheeks burning. “I trust you, Chris. ‘m ready.”

He undressed you slowly, kissing every inch of skin he revealed. His hands were warm, steady, grounding. You laid on your tummy, like always, but this time, he positioned a pillow under your hips, raising you just slightly.

“Just like that,” he murmured, spreading your legs slowly. “Let me see you, bun.”

You whimpered when his fingers found your hole, already slicked with lube, already twitching.

“God, look at you,” he breathed.

Chris started with one finger—just to test. Then two. Then he slid the glass dildo in again, watching the way your body hugged it so perfectly.

“You’ve trained so well, bunny. Look at you, takin’ this like it was nothing.”

You moaned into the pillow, clenching around it. “Chris… please.”

He kissed the curve of your spine, then leaned up, and you felt the toy slide out.

“You ready for me, bun?” he asked, voice full of awe.

“Please,” you whispered. “Wanna feel you.”

—————————

You could feel the difference the moment the tip of him pressed against your entrance. He was so much warmer than the glass, thicker, throbbing. Your whole body tensed—but then his hand came to rest on your lower back, grounding you.

“Deep breath for me,” he whispered. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You exhaled slowly, and he pushed just a little—only the tip—and your whole body reacted.

You gasped, back arching. “Oh my god…”

“Shhh,” he soothed, pausing. “That’s it. You’re doing so good. Just let me in a little at a time.”

He rocked forward again, inch by inch, until the thickest part of his head popped past the tight ring of muscle. You cried out, gripping the sheets, but it wasn’t pain—not really. It was pressure. Stretch. Fullness.

Chris moaned low in his throat. “O-oh fuuuck pretty girl. You’re so tight—so warm.”

“F-Feels… so big,” you whimpered.

“I know, I know. But you’re taking me so good. Look at you,” he said softly. “Already halfway in— y’doin perfect for me.”

He moved slowly, praising you the entire time. When he bottomed out, both of you froze—his hips snug against your ass, your back arched, your thighs trembling.

“Theeeeere we go, baby— y’doin it,” he whispered, kissing your shoulder. “You’re taking all of me. Look at how good you are.”

You were shaking—so full you could barely think. But your body… wanted more.

“Move, Chrisss… please…”

He groaned, pulling out halfway and easing back in with one slow stroke. “I’ve got you, bunny. Gonna fuck you so good. Gonna let you feel every inch of me inside you.”

And he did—deep, steady thrusts that rubbed against places inside you you didn’t even know existed. You moaned into the pillow, gasping his name again and again.

“That feel good, baby?” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your temple. “You feel so fucking amazing around me.”

“So full,” you whimpered. “So deep—Chris, I-I’m gonna—”

He reached down, rubbing your clit with careful fingers, and that was all it took.

You came hard, body clenching around his cock, mouth falling open in a silent cry. Chris cursed under his breath, trying not to fall apart at how tight you were when you came.

“Fuck, fuck—gonna cum too—can I— fuck can I cum inside?”

“Yes—please, Chris—please—”

He pushed in deep and groaned, spilling inside you while whispering praise into your ear.

04: Aftercare

You were trembling after, limp and quiet, breathing fast. Chris cleaned you up with a warm towel, kissing you over and over—your cheeks, your thighs, your spine.

“You did so good,” he whispered, pulling you into his chest. “You’re such a good girl— always.”

You curled into him, glassy-eyed and soft. “Felt— so good, Chris…”

“I know, baby,” he murmured. “You were perfect. My perfect girl.”

He dressed you gently, slid one of his hoodies over your head, and tucked the blankets around both of you. His fingers played in your hair while you came down.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Chris smiled. “I love you more.”

dividers by @/bernardsbendystraws

A/N: sorry if there are any errors in spelling or anything— im absolutely blazed rn but I got this idea and had to do smtn w it

tags: @emely9274 @courta13 @sturniolo-szn2 @sophand4n4 @lezleeferguson-120 @chrislover696969 @slvt4chriss @riasturns @ivysturnss @auttysturnz @tezzzzzzzz @iloveduckssm @conspiracy-ash



[afroslacks]

Hi I saw that you were taking requests and I was wondering if you were interested in doing something with girldad smoke whose teen daughter has his negotiation skills and her uncle's smart mouth and hustler mentality getting into trouble at school and reader being upset because obviously she get it from those two

Or a smoke x stack x reader where they are together and they meet readers family who don't know about them and how they react to the relationship maybe throw in an annoying old fling of readers who won't leave her alone

Obviously only if you're interested it's cool if you're not

ou, Smoke, and Stack have been in a relationship for one year. But your relationship is anything but normal. Not many people date two siblings at the same time. So, you’ve decided to keep things private to save yourself from public scrutiny and prying eyes. The boys don’t care, as long as you don’t take your love away — that’s all they want: your love and affection.

You're lying on the couch with Stack holding your feet in his lap and Smoke sitting beside you.

“So, when are we going to tell your parents about us?” Stack asks, breaking the peaceful silence as the three of you watch television.

At the sound of his words, your heart drops at the uncomfortable question. Your eyes bulge.

“What?” you ask, sitting up from your position.

“You heard him. When are you going to introduce us?” Smoke pauses the television and turns to you.

In your mind, you're scrambling to come up with a million excuses to put this meeting off. But ultimately, none of them seem believable.

The twins are anything but stupid — pushy, sure — but stupid? Not a chance in hell.

“Baby, I would love to, but… you know how my family is.”

At your reply, Stack’s face curls in annoyance at your lame excuse, and he moves your feet from his lap.

“Bullshit,” he spits, standing up from the couch.

Smoke silently shakes his head at the situation unfolding. You reach out to place your hand on his arm, but he moves it before you can touch his skin — he feels betrayed by your lies.

“Elijah,” you croak, hurt by your usually silent lover. Smoke has always been the type to still love you, no matter how upset he got. After dating them for a while, you’ve grown used to Stack’s chaotic, unpredictable energy. But you’ve also come to understand the quiet storm that is Smoke.

“Are you ashamed of us or something?” Smoke asks, raising a brow.

You immediately shake your head. “No, baby, I love you both too much for that.”

Stack scoffs at your pretty words. “You sure as hell ain’t acting like it. We wanna be like normal couples and meet your family. Nothing in our lives has been normal or peaceful — except for you.” He confesses this, locking his deep brown eyes onto yours.

You exhale at the weight of his words and start to feel ashamed for trying to shut them out of another part of your life.

“I only said no because my family might not accept our relationship. They may view it as… unnatural,” you explain, looking at them both.

Your family is very religious, while you identify as atheist or agnostic. You’re not as deep into faith as they are. You prefer facts over fiction or fairy tales, which always makes things awkward. Even when you bring up a progressive idea, for some reason, those old folks still fantasize about "the good ol' days."

“So what — we’re supposed to be your dirty little secret until you walk down the aisle and give them a nice surprise?” Smoke asks, not buying your explanation.

“No—” you begin, but Stack cuts you off.

“Are we always supposed to disappear every time you get on FaceTime with them?”

You sigh heavily, trying again.

“I’m not saying—”

Smoke adds in, “Nah, Stack, she wants to keep her famous lie going — you know, that she's 'focusing on herself,' whatever that shit means.”

You shut your mouth, having no good comeback to combat their words.

Instead, you dramatically flop onto the back of the couch, looking at the ceiling and wishing you could rewind time by five minutes.

“Oh, now you ain’t got nothing to say?” Stack crosses his arms, standing in front of the television, refusing to let the conversation die.

After some thought, you come to the conclusion that you have nothing left to lose. So, reluctantly, you agree.

“Okay.”

The Moore twins break into big grins.

One week later

You sit in the passenger seat of Smoke’s car as Stack leans forward from the back like an eager kid, eyes glued to your family home. Then he shifts his attention to your queasy, uneasy face.

“Calm down, we’ll behave,” he snickers, placing a hand on your cheek and rubbing his thumb soothingly.

You hastily push his hand away.

“Not right now, Stack. I don’t have time for your games. When we get inside, I need you to behave,” you say, turning to look at him directly.

You don’t even glance at Smoke — he knows better. He doesn’t act like a crazy man.

“Whatever. Let’s go. I’m ready to meet my in-laws,” Stack says as he gets out of the car. Then he opens your door, standing there with his hand out, ready for you to place your palm in his.

You look at him reluctantly, then slowly place your hand in his, wondering if it’s too late to back out.

Sensing your hesitation, both twins each grab one of your arms and begin walking you toward the door.

“Don’t run now — we haven’t even made it to the door yet,” Smoke says, tightening his grip.

Stack firmly knocks.

Moments later, your mother opens the door with a smile — which quickly fades when she sees your uneasy face.

“Honey, what’s wrong? I thought you said we were meeting your lover.”

You say nothing, heart racing, hoping she picks up on the situation herself.

She looks past you to the twins.

“Hello. I’m Elijah, and this is my brother Elias. We’re both taken with your child,” Smoke says in the most gentlemanly voice possible.

Your mother looks back at you, eyes wide — and promptly faints.

“Mama!” you cry, breaking free from the boys to check on her.

Leaning over her, you place a hand on her forehead. Then you turn to the twins, frustration bubbling.

“Now do you see why I didn’t want you to meet them?” you scoff, then turn back toward your mother. “Monica, what are you doing on the floor?” you hear your father call out as his footsteps approach.

Just when you think the day can’t get any worse, it does.

You remember — all of this started just because they were so desperate to meet your family.

Stack mutters, “Baby, your mama’s dramatic, and I don’t even know her yet,” adjusting his clothes.

Then your father finally appears at the door. He takes one look at the twins, then down at you.

“What the fuck is this?” he asks, staring at you with a mix of anger and disappointment.

You focus on your mother, unable to meet his eyes.

[heartsiebyul]

Hello heartsie! I’m not sure if you’re currently open for requests but if you do, may i ask for the overblot boys x female reader who loves to collect rocks in her room and for her pet bugs terrarium/enclosures (especially spiders—preferably jumping spiders and tarantulas)? Much obliged! Hopefully you have a wonderful and enjoyable day/night, and hopefully my request won’t tire you out or even makes you uncomfortable since it’s fem reader and mentioning bugs as well, but if you’re uncomfortable or simply don’t write for fem readers—you can ignore this, I don’t mind! Your comfort is the main priority after all. ^•^

જ⁀➴ Twisted Wonderland x reader!

featuring — Overblot Boys : Riddle : Leona : Azul : Jamil : Vil : Idia : Malleus.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle was initially puzzled when he entered your room for the first time. His eyes darted around, taking in the display of rocks carefully arranged on your shelves and the small, carefully maintained terrariums that housed your pet bugs. His lips twitched into a frown as he noted the large, slightly intimidating tarantula in one enclosure. "How can you even stand to have such creatures in your room?" he asked, his voice a mixture of concern and slight discomfort. Though he couldn’t fully understand your fascination, Riddle couldn’t help but admire your dedication to your collection. He found himself fascinated by how organized everything was, from the way the rocks were grouped by type to the careful environment you created for your little critters.

As time passed, Riddle found himself drawn into your hobby more than he expected. He was always looking for new ways to show his affection, so he started bringing you little gifts related to your passions. Whether it was a rare, smooth stone or an exotic type of bug, he carefully present them to you, clearly trying to make up for his initial unease. While he still couldn’t quite grasp the appeal of the spiders, he found comfort in knowing they made you happy. In his own way, Riddle began to appreciate the quiet beauty of your room, where everything had a purpose and every creature a place.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona leans casually against the doorframe of your room, arms crossed as he surveys the assortment of rocks and terrariums. His eyes flick over the rock collection with mild interest before falling to the spiders, with a raised brow. “You really enjoy these creepy crawlers, huh?” he asks, walking up to one of the enclosures and peering inside with a lazy grin. “They don’t bite, do they?” He tilts his head as a jumping spider scuttles across a branch, his ears twitching in what might be curiosity or slight discomfort. Leona’s not a fan of spiders, but he’s not the type to be afraid of them either. Instead, he’s intrigued by how easily you seem to handle them, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced by a genuine interest in your unique hobby.

As the days went by, Leona found himself idly watching as you tended to your spiders. There was something mesmerizing about the way you spoke to them so softly, your gentle care. One day, when you were distracted, he snuck over to one of the enclosures and, without warning, let his fingers brush the glass. He didn’t flinch at the sight of the tarantula, though he wouldn’t admit it. It wasn’t much, but it was his way of showing that maybe he was starting to understand you a bit more, bugs and all.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul’s first visit to your room left him somewhat stunned. The sheer number of terrariums, each with its own distinct environment for your bugs, made his head spin. He admired the attention to detail, though a small part of him couldn’t help but feel the weight of discomfort as he stood before the giant tarantula enclosure. “Fascinating,” he said with a strained smile, trying to mask his unease. “You have quite the collection.” He didn’t want to show how unsettling he found the creatures, but there was no denying the admiration he had for your attention to detail. He was well-acquainted with creating environments for things, just not this type of thing.

Despite his initial discomfort, Azul found himself enchanted by your quiet enthusiasm. He wasn’t one to outright engage with your collection, but he would leave little gifts related to your hobby in your room, each with a small note of encouragement. A rare gemstone, a fancy jar for your collection, or even an extra-special spider enclosure, all presented with his signature charm. He appreciated how something as unconventional as your passion could bring such joy and purpose to your life, even if he would prefer to keep a polite distance from the creatures themselves.

Jamil Viper

The moment Jamil stepped into your room and caught sight of the terrariums lining your shelves, he froze. His eyes locked onto the nearest one, where a bold little jumping spider perched on a twig and he visibly recoiled. “You keep those in here?” he asked, voice tight with barely concealed discomfort. Jamil dislikes insects, and spiders were no exception. He avoided eye contact with the tarantula entirely, subtly angling his body away from it. The rock collection was fine, maybe even relaxing in its order and variety, but the bugs? Absolutely not. Still, he tried to keep his tone neutral, not wanting to upset you. “I hope they don’t get out,” he added under his breath, glancing warily at the enclosures.

Despite his aversion, Jamil never asked you to get rid of them. He respected your passions, even if they made his skin crawl. He wouldn’t go near the spiders, but he would stand at the doorway and listen to you talk about them, nodding along with a tight-lipped smile. If you ever asked him to hold one, he'd swiftly change the subject or suddenly "remember" he had something to cook. And yet, there was always a faint note of effort, he once gave you a polished desert stone he found on a trip to the Scalding Sands, wrapped carefully in cloth so he didn’t have to touch it directly. It wasn’t much, but for Jamil, who preferred control and comfort, he admired your ability to find beauty and fascination in the things that terrified him.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil had a strong reaction when he first entered your room, his eyes quickly flicking over to the spiders in their enclosures, his usual composure slipping just a little. “What on earth is this mess?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. The rocks weren’t quite as bad, but they were hardly the kind of aesthetic he associated with refinement. He took a cautious step backward, noting how the tarantula in the corner moved languidly in its enclosure. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Spiders? Of all things…” His lip curled slightly, but there was also something oddly admiring about how much care you put into maintaining everything.

Over time, Vil softened his stance, especially after he saw how dedicated you were. He began finding ways to subtly integrate your hobbies into the more stylish aspects of your life. A delicate necklace shaped like one of your rocks, or a custom-made terrarium with a chic, polished finish. He didn’t particularly like the spiders, but he would never let something as trivial as that interfere with his affection for you. If anything, he respected your passion for the bizarre and would happily indulge you in little ways, perhaps even considering a future where your strange collection had a more glamorous flair.

Idia Shroud

Idia had a lot of questions when he first saw your collection of rocks and bugs. “Wait, wait, wait...you keep bugs? specifically tarantulas? Are you insane?!” His eyes were wide, practically glowing with confusion and disbelief. As much as he wanted to step back, his curiosity kept him rooted to the spot. He couldn’t understand it at first, the creatures were so… alive, so unpredictable but after some research on his own, he found himself unable to dismiss the idea entirely. The more he watched you handle them with ease, the more fascinated he became, even if his first instinct was to flinch every time one of the spiders moved.

After a while, Idia would show up to your room, always a little awkward, but his heart was in the right place. He’d bring you the latest tech gadget or a new game to play with, hoping you’d enjoy it. But every time, there was something in his eyes that said he wasn’t quite as freaked out by the spiders anymore. Maybe he even grew a tiny soft spot for them, though he'd never say it aloud.

Malleus Draconia

When Malleus first entered your room, he felt an unusual mix of curiosity and admiration. He’d never seen a collection like yours, so eccentric yet so deliberate. The rocks, all arranged with precision, reminded him of ancient treasures, while the bugs seemed like tiny, mysterious creatures that fit right into his realm of magical fascination. “You are truly a curious one,” Malleus remarked, his deep voice soft and thoughtful as his eyes lingered on the tarantula. “They are quite beautiful, in their own way.” While he wasn’t as interested in the bugs themselves, he understood the importance of finding harmony with the creatures.

In the days that followed, Malleus found himself returning to your room, his fascination growing with each visit. He might not share your love for bugs, but he respected the bond you had with them. One day, he might even bring you a rare, mythical creature to add to your collection, something that would match your unique charm. For now, he was content to watch over you, knowing that your room, filled with rocks and creatures, was a space where you could truly be yourself.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

[giuliannna]

LESSON PLAN

studying isn’t so entertaining when you have something else on your mind - something that involves your shy tutor. inspired by this request

contains: loss of virginity (don’t read if uncomfortable)

hamzah always knocks on your door too lightly, shifting from foot to foot like he’s thinking about running away. you open the door and he’s standing there with his sleeves tugged down over his hands, backpack hung on his shoulders.

“hi,” he mumbles, not meeting your eyes.

“you’re late,” you say, but you’re smiling, leaning against the doorframe in a tank top that’s showing too much. or not enough, depending how you look at it.

“sorry - uh, my car.. i mean- yeah. sorry.”

you step aside to let him in, and he walks in like he’s entering a museum. eyes darting around your room - pink sheets, candles, glossy lip balm tubes scattered on the desk - like he doesn’t know where he’s allowed to look. his cheeks are already turning pink.

“you can sit,” you say, already flopping onto your bed.

he hesitates. “uh- here?”

“yeah, hamzah,” you grin, patting your bedspread. “you’re not gonna, like, catch cooties. i’m tired of you always sitting at my desk all the time. you’re too far away.”

he laughs, but it’s nervous. he sinks down onto the very edge of the mattress, leaving a prominent gap of space between you two. he opens the cover of his textbook, flipping through pages with shaky hands. he clears his throat.

“so.. i figured we could start with the practice on page 211. if that’s okay.”

you hum. “sure.”

you lean over to look at the page. and when you do, your arm brushes his. his breath catches. he tries not to move, but he tries even harder not to look at the way your collarbone is peeking out or how your lip gloss shines.

you glance at him. he looks like he’s trying to remember how to breathe.

“you okay?”

“y-yeah. yep. page 211.”

he’s trying so hard.

his voice is all quiet and focused, like he really believes you’re going to care about vectors and kinematic equations just because he’s reading them off a flashcard.

“so, um, if the object’s moving with constant acceleration, you can use the formula - i mean, like.. initial velocity plus acceleration times time is..”

he squints down at his notes and pushes his glasses up with the side of his hand.

the frames keep sliding down his nose. you want to tug them off and crawl into his lap.

you’re sprawled out on the bed in your tiny sleep shorts, legs stretched long and bare toward him, like you’re just testing the waters - seeing how far you can push him before something breaks.

he’s still perched right on the edge of the mattress, like your bed is a sacred place. like one wrong move might make him bolt from the room.

“hamzah,” you hum, voice sugar-sweet and full of amusement.

his eyes dart up, nervous and wide behind his lenses. “yeah?”

you tilt your head, playing with the strap of your top. “you’re so cute when you talk about physics.”

he blinks. you see the pink rise to his cheeks.

“i- uh, thanks. it’s, um.. it’s just the way the curriculum explains it, i’m not, like, making it up or anything-”

you smile. “i know. you’re just so smart.”

his voice stutters into silence. his fingers tighten around the flashcard.

you roll onto your stomach, bending your knees up and swinging your feet lazily. “are you always this nervous around girls?”

“i’m not - i’m not nervous,” he says too fast, eyes flitting around the room like they’re begging for a safe place to land. “i just, uh, wanna make sure you understand it. the material. so you don’t fail.”

you giggle. “oh, right. i stopped listening, like, fifteen minutes ago.” your voice softens into a pout. “i’m bored.”

he hears that tone in your voice and looks up at you, the flashcard in his hand starting to tremble a little.

“b-bored?”

you nod, stretching again, letting your shorts ride up just a bit more. “mhm. think you could teach me something else?”

he swallows. audibly. “i- i don’t know what else you’d want me to teach you..”

you sit up on your knees and shift closer, slow and casual, like this isn’t going to break his entire understanding of reality.

“well,” you murmur, touching the hem of his sleeve. “you know what i heard?”

“what?” he nearly whispers.

“i heard that you’ve never kissed a girl before.”

he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t even try to deny it. his mouth opens like he wants to speak, but nothing comes out.

you hum, pleased. “you want to?”

his whole body tenses. “i.. y-you mean.. right now?”

you reach up and adjust his crooked glasses, nodding. “right now.”

his eyes flick to your mouth and back up again. “y-yeah. if.. if you want to.”

you laugh softly and cup his cheek with one hand.

he melts.

he makes a tiny, broken noise in the back of his throat like that short-circuited something in his brain.

you kiss him.

he gasps against your mouth - not dramatic, just genuinely surprised. he doesn’t know where to put his hands, he doesn’t even move at all until you guide him, fingers lacing with his and placing them on your hips.

his mouth is soft, warm, clumsy. he kisses like he’s afraid to mess it up, like he’s thinking too hard about what to do with it. his lips are glossy and red when you finally pull back.

he blinks up at you like he’s not sure the kiss actually happened. like maybe he blacked out halfway through it. his glasses are crooked again. you fix them for him gently.

“you wanna learn something?” you whisper.

he nods, like it’s instinct.

“lie back. i’ll show you how to make a girl feel good.”

he obeys. no questions asked.

and you’re already thinking about how he’s going to look between your thighs - desperate, overwhelmed, ready to worship you without even knowing how.

he lies back, palms flat against your sheets. his fingers are twitching like he doesn’t know what to do with them, and his legs are a little too close together, stiff with nerves. his shirt rides up at the hem and his glasses are fogging slightly, but he watches you as you crawl over him and straddle his waist like you’ve already done this a hundred times.

he looks terrified.

yet already, he’s so hard.

you lean down, kiss his flushed cheek, whisper against his ear, “you wanna go down on me?”

his breath catches. “i- i’ve never..”

“i know.”

you smile and kiss him again, slower this time. “i’ll help you.”

and that’s all it takes. he nods, frantic, already trying to sit up like he wants to be useful.

you tug your shorts down slow, teasing, watching the way his eyes track every inch of your skin. when you toss your panties aside, his mouth drops open like he’s seeing something heavenly.

you climb up and settle your thighs over his face, one knee on either side of his head. “you okay down there?” you ask sweetly.

he breathes out hard, nodding. “yeah. yeah, i’m- fuck.”

you giggle.

and then you lower yourself.

his first lick is so clumsy it barely even lands. he sort of just presses his tongue to you like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do, and it’s so messy, so warm, so desperate it makes you laugh breathlessly.

“oh my god,” you whisper, grinding down just a little. “you really have no idea what you’re doing, hamzah.”

he moans into you. it vibrates through your whole body.

“but you want to, don’t you?”

he nods under you. you feel it. his hands are on your thighs now, squeezing gently, trying to hold you in place even though you’re the one doing all the moving.

“don’t think too hard about it,” you murmur. “just try.”

and he does.

he’s sloppy and starved and so completely in awe of your body. he licks too fast, then too slow, then gets better when you tug on his hair and grind your hips just right.

he’s not coordinated, but he’s willing.

you rock against his face, moaning when his tongue finally catches your clit the way you want it to.

“fuck - right there, hamzah. keep going, don’t stop.”

he whimpers, like the praise is feeding him more than your cunt is. you ride it out, guiding his head, rolling your hips while he holds on and tries so hard to avoid screwing it up.

he’s soaked. his chin, his nose, his whole mouth - all wet. all yours.

when you finally cum, it’s sharp and fast and mean, your fingers yanking his hair and your thighs trembling around his head.

you don’t even get all the way off him. you just slide down until you’re sitting on his chest, catching your breath, looking down at him.

his mouth is red and slick and his lips are parted. he looks ruined. you smile, feeling proud.

“good boy,” you whisper.

he twitches under you - hips jerking up like he’s this close from just finishing in his pants.

his hands hover in the air like he doesn’t know where to put them. not on your waist, not on your hips, not on your thighs. you take them and pin them to the bed.

“stay still,” you tease, climbing down his body. “i’m not done with you yet.”

his eyes flutter shut for a second, overwhelmed. he’s so red in the face you can see it creeping down his neck, blooming along his skin like heatstroke.

“you’ve never even.. touched a girl before, have you?”

he shakes his head. swallows hard. “n-no. i mean, not - not like this.”

you hum like you’re thinking. “not even.. over-the-clothes stuff?”

“no,” he breathes. “i’ve only ever - like.. y’know. on my own.”

you sit back and smile like you’re delighted. “god, that’s so cute.”

he groans, burying his face in his arm. “please don’t make fun of me.”

“hamzah,” you purr, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth, “i’m not making fun of you. i love it.”

his hips twitch at that. he doesn’t even mean to - it’s just instinct, pure and helpless.

you reach down and finally palm him over his sweats. he’s rock hard, twitching, so sensitive. he gasps, trying to hold still.

“look at you,” you murmur. “all worked up and i haven’t even taken these off yet.”

he covers his face again. “i’m sorry-”

you laugh sweetly. “don’t be sorry, hamzah. you’re doing perfect.”

your fingers curl into the waistband of his sweats. you pull them down slow, along with his boxers, and he lifts his hips eagerly without you even asking.

and when he springs free - flushed and leaking and pretty - you just look at him for a second.

“fuck,” you whisper. “you’ve been keeping this from me?”

his face is burning. “i didn’t - m’sorry, i didn’t think-”

you cut him off with a kiss.

“you want me to be your first, don’t you?” you exhale against his lips.

he nods instantly. “please. i want it so bad.”

“yeah?” you stroke him once, slow and mean. he chokes on a moan. “you gonna be good for me?”

“yes. yes, i will, just - tell me what to do. i don’t wanna mess anything up.”

you climb back over him and straddle his hips again, dragging your slick along the length of his cock so he can feel how ready you are.

“you’re not gonna mess it up, hamzah. i’ll take care of everything.”

his whole body shudders. you reach down and guide him with one hand, pressing the head of his cock to your entrance.

“wait,” he whispers, chest rising and falling rapidly, “i don’t - i don’t wanna cum yet.”

you smile. “you’re not gonna. not yet. just breathe.”

his hands grip your waist, fingers digging in just enough to ground himself. his eyes are locked on where your bodies meet - lips parted, completely speechless.

you sink down slow. his head hits the pillow. a choked moan leaves his lips. his hips jerk without permission.

“oh - oh my god,” he whispers, voice cracking. “it’s so.. good, it’s - fuck, i’m..”

you pause halfway, hand splayed across his chest. “c’mon, breathe, hamzah.”

he gasps like he’s forgotten how.

you press a kiss to his jaw. “you’re doing so good, i promise.”

you take the rest of him inch by inch, letting him stretch you slowly. his cock is twitching inside you, like everything is too much, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this exact moment.

you settle fully, hips snug against his, and you don’t move. he’s trembling under you.

“this okay?” you ask softly, running your fingers down his chest.

he nods. “y-yeah. i just.. it’s so much. i can’t think.”

you lean down and kiss his temple. “that’s good. you think too much. you don’t have to for once.”

you rock your hips once - shallow, gentle. he gasps.

“oh my god- don’t stop-”

you shush him sweetly. his hands are fisting the sheets now. his head turns to the side like he’s trying to ground himself in anything that isn’t you, but you won’t let him look away.

you grip his chin and make him face you.

“eyes on me.”

he obeys instantly. he’s all flushed, fucked-out.

you start rocking your hips again, slow and steady, dragging yourself up and down his cock while he just whines under you.

his hands twitch at your waist, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch you more, but when you grind down just right and clench around him - he loses all of that control.

his hips snap up into you without warning. once. twice. again.

“shit - i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to-”

you gasp, caught off guard by how deep he hits. your hand slaps down on his chest to keep yourself steady, but he’s already chasing it now - thrusting up into you, messy and fast and needy.

“fuck-! i can’t stop, oh god - sorry,” he whimpers.

you moan, loud. “don’t be sorry, hamzah - oh, my god.. fuck me just like that.”

his eyes go wide. his hands grip your ass, holding you down as he drives up into you with these frantic, uncoordinated thrusts.

“you feel so good - jesus, i didn’t know it would feel like this-”

you’re bouncing now, letting him fuck up into you while your fingers dig into his chest. he’s gasping under you, all choked breaths and flushed skin and eyes locked on your tits through the thin fabric of your top.

“you gonna cum already?” you tease, breathless, grinning down at him.

he nods, eyes glossy. “i’m trying not to - i swear, i’m trying.. i don’t wanna cum yet, please-”

“why not?” you pant, leaning close so your nose brushes his. “you wanna make me finish first?”

he whimpers. “yes.”

you smile. “good boy.”

and that breaks him.

he bucks up harder, sweat gathering at his temples, teeth sinking into his lip. his hands are sliding all over your waist now, greedy and clumsy like he can’t decide whether to hold you still or pull you closer.

you guide one of his hands to your clit. “touch me here, hamzah. just like i showed you.”

he does. shaky at first, then more confident when he hears how loud you moan.

and then you’re right there - hips stuttering, thighs trembling, your whole body shaking on top of him.

“hamzah, fuck- don’t stop..”

he watches you fall apart like he’s witnessing something holy.

you cry out as you cum again, clenching hard around him, and that’s when he completely unravels.

“oh fuckfuckfuck - i’m gonna cum, i can’t-”

he sobs your name as he finishes. hips locked, cock twitching, entire body stiffening under you. he moans through it, whimpering and cursing, clinging to you like you’re the only thing keeping him on earth.

his chest heaves. your body goes limp over his. and neither of you say a thing for a second - just trying to breathe. your thighs are shaking and his chest is slick with sweat, his glasses fogged and askew, but neither of you move right away.

he blinks up at the ceiling.

“oh, my god.”

you giggle against his shoulder, tucking his glasses up onto his forehead gently. “s’that good, huh?”

he just stares at you with this wrecked, teary, completely worshipful face. that’s all you need to know.

“mm. glad i could teach you something for a change.”

a/n: not proofread again sorryyyy

xoxo giulia

taglist: @gulicore @slushedup @arroganceisherfavoritecolor @layzerzlovesu46 @babysitter19 @marixoa @starjely @viennawaiits @h-yalexaaaa @freakzah444 @anginluv @gabwilliams @sturniyolo @screamertannie @brlwla @yourstrulykiya @angelegss @hamzaholic @isathefantastic @divinesturn @forestlv4r @mayapuma20 @ottakugirl @hamzahsbestone @pulcen @rustnroll @venus-planetof-love @hamzahsn1gf @rock678 @wandas-lovey @guiltyfemcel @axetheboyboss @harrys0nlyange1 @ttlynotme @yassqueen1303 @animalcrossingshameless @opiumfidgetspinner @pictureperfectblue @slushingmynoob @vampzah @ilovezah @wh1speringstarr

[starlight-sev]

NSFW Alphabet (Severus Snape)

Here we are, back by popular demand!

18+ only for reasons obviously mentioned in title above. MDNI, please and thank you!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He gravitates to you immediately. Limbs intertwined, holding you close as if the world might end. Severus always needs to feel you, to have a hand on you in some way just to remind himself that you're real, that what the two of you just shared was real.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Severus doesn't really like anything about himself. If you were to ask him to pick something, I'm pretty sure he'd just frown and close himself in emotionally a bit. He's still learning how to love himself that way.

He loves your hands -- being able to lace his fingers through yours, feeling you holding him close. It keeps him grounded.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I honestly think he'd feel really awkward and uncomfortable at first about finishing with you literally right there with him. He's not used to having someone else in the room.

Once he grows more comfortable with you though, Severus would want to cum inside you. His possessive side starts to show the more he's with you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sometimes he'll read your mind to figure out what fantasies you have and what you're willing to try. He's a bit too afraid to straight up ask you, so he'll use Legilimency on you.

You do notice it, that little nudge at the back of your thoughts that feels a little off. You know it's him, but you find it kind of sweet and hot in a way. So you keep it secret too.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I would say Severus had a fair bit of experience after Hogwarts, during his time with the Death Eaters. He's good at the physical aspect of sex, but the emotional aspect is what throws him off.

He's not used to so many emotions at once, and the overwhelm makes him fumble a bit more than he would expect.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Having you on top. Severus is a switch but I really feel like he gravitates more towards being a sub when he's with you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's an anxious mess for the first few times with you. I feel like once he sees you laugh, or even just smile, it's enough to help him lighten up a bit and just be present with you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Since being with you, he puts a bit more effort into self-care overall but it's not a super huge focus for him just yet. He's still learning how to prioritize himself without feeling uncomfortable doing so.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Oh my god don't even get me started. Fingers lacing through yours, neck kisses, Severus murmuring your name over and over between breaths.

This man worships you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He'd only masturbate if he were desperate -- it was never something he felt he could enjoy and sometimes he still struggles with the guilt. He'd honestly much rather let that tension build up until you're able to be together again.

Be prepared to not get a single minute of sleep if that's the case ooo boy

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

One kink I think it would take Severus a while to work up the courage to tell you about is his desire to be blindfolded. To see only through touch and put all his trust in you.

One day, he'll tell you about it. But like everything else with Severus, it will take some time.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In bed. He's much too careful to risk getting caught anywhere.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Feeling your hands run through his hair. He's not sure why that gesture specifically turns him on so much, but he practically melts on the spot as soon as he feels your fingers.

Severus will very nearly fall apart if you tug his hair gently. It's his biggest weakness.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing degrading, for either person. Hits too close to home, too many memories resurface. He's not a huge fan of BDSM either, for similar reasons.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Severus would much rather prefer to give than receive. He's still getting used to this whole trust and letting go thing when it comes to sex, and not to mention, where does he put his hands?? He's quite awkward about it when he's receiving, he overthinks everything. He's more comfortable giving, plus the sounds you make really turn him on.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual always except when he's had a particularly rough day, and you happen to visit while he's still emotionally charged.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not a fan. Reminds him too much of his Death Eater days. He'd much rather take his time with you, because you deserve that attention and love and care.

The only time I could see him taking you up on a quickie is if the two of you were at a party, and he had had a drink or two. Enough to get his mind off the past, at least.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Depends on what it is. He's got constant fears that it'll either be triggering in some way, or he might hurt you. It would take a lot of talks and reassurance, but eventually he'll learn that you're a safe person, and you share a safe space together.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I think one or two. Emotionally, it's a lot for him. Some days, he needs the aftercare more than he needs the sex itself.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No, but I could definitely see him inventing new spells to try on/with you after enough time together. Mostly on you, though. He's often finding new ways to please you beyond traditional means.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

I feel like most of the time Severus does it unintentionally. He'll get too carried away with caressing your skin without realizing it, until you start quietly begging to get on with it already. He'd never admit it, but it turns him on.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's pretty quiet, the most you'd get are gasps or your name moaned softly.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Severus can get possessive, and this is also when he becomes more reckless and risky. Sex at a party in a coat closet because he saw someone else trying to make a move on you? Absolutely. Pulling you into the darkness just long enough to leave a mark on your neck, reminding you of who holds your heart? There's no stopping him. Leaning in to whisper something to you, only to bite your ear gently as both reassurance and a warning? Hell yeah.

If he can't find a way to get you alone easily after seeing someone getting too close to you, you can bet he'd keep a hand on you at all times.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Remember that scene from Order of the Phoenix? Yeah. Enough said.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Severus does have his low moments, but they're less frequent since you've been in his life. Sometimes it's almost as if his sex drive keeps increasing. He just can't get enough of you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sleep has never come easy for him, but it takes a shorter time to fall asleep after sex than it usually does. It helps if you're the big spoon, too. That extra comfort makes a huge difference.

[snail-day]

I fear i would let yandere nanami control every aspect of my life as long as i get some of that dick at the end of the day

You're so real for this anon,

Tw: Breeding kink, Somno, Yandere, Captivity.

Because honestly? You’re not even living that bad of a life, all things considered. Not compared to what other yanderes might do to you. With Nanami, at least, there’s structure. Routine. Cleanliness.

He doesn’t hover. Not exactly. He gives you space, but the kind of space with eyes on it. Cameras tucked in the corners of every room, soft red dots blinking above the doorways. Not that you’re planning to hurt yourself. Not that you could, really, with the locks on the drawers and the blunt-edged utensils. Still, he likes to be cautious. “Just in case,” he murmurs, smoothing your hair down whenever you look too long at the windows, a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You’re too precious to lose.”

You only get one hour of television a day, but you can read as much as you want. His shelves are lined with classic literature and economic theory, but lately… lately, there’s been a shift. He’s started leaving out parenting books. Stacked neatly on the coffee table, spines uncracked, titles like Your First Year with Baby and The Art of Gentle Discipline catching your eye as you pass. He never says a word about them. Though he does smile when you pick one up, even lets you have an extra hour of your silly show.

There’s a calendar on the wall now, too. The days are crossed off in thin black ink, except for one that’s circled in red, thick and loud. Your expected start date. As if that part of you belongs to him, too. And when it doesn’t come on time, when your body betrays you with even the smallest delay, he gets so visibly hopeful.

But when it comes anyway, when you’re curled up on the couch and he sees the faint stain on your pajamas, his whole expression goes quiet. Dimmed. He says nothing. Just rubs his temples and murmurs something about age. Thirty isn’t old, he reminds himself. Again. And again. And again.

So the routine intensifies.

It starts every night, like clockwork. He pulls you into his lap while the lights are dimmed, pressing kisses to your shoulder, your jaw, the bend of your neck. His voice is warm, low, as he murmurs about how soft you are, how good, how ready. And when he lays you down, it’s always slow and tender. He holds you close as he fucks you, one hand laced in yours, the other resting protectively on your stomach. He kisses your face between thrusts, praises you with every breath, “Just like that, darling. I’ve got you.” Yet no matter how much he fucks you, the stretch is always uncomfortable. He always has to tell you to breathe when he settles deep inside you, rocking his hips in shallow thrusts. Though he thinks it's so sweet when you go limp. Trusting him to take care of you <3

You’re usually half-asleep by the time he finishes. Sometimes drooling into his chest, body pliant beneath him, your legs numb from being pressed so tightly to your chest. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he loves it. Says it helps everything “settle” just right.

“You’re doing so well,” he'll whisper against the shell of your ear, rocking into you slow and deep. “Just a little more, sweetheart. Got to fill you up properly. Make sure it takes.”

Your legs are sore every morning. Aching from the weight of his body, the constant stretch of his cock, the way he folds you in half to push as deep as possible. But he takes care of that too. Pulls you into his lap, belly down, and massages your thighs with strong, calloused hands, brushing kisses along your calves as he murmurs praise into your skin.

And then, without fail, he spreads you open again. From the back, he buries his face between your thighs like he’s starving. Tongue lapping at your folds, slow and indulgent, tasting the remnants of the night before. He doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, until your fingers are gripping his sheets and your breath is catching. And only when you’ve come undone just for him, does he slide back inside, sometimes not even waiting until your velvety walls have stopped fluttering.

He’s late for work more often than not these days. Has to wake up earlier, shower, smooth down his tie with shaky hands, and kiss your forehead like he didn’t just spend the last two hours breeding you full.

But to him, it's worth it. So just be a good girl and keep dozing off in his arms while he breeds you, okay? He’ll take care of everything else.

[cowboybeepboop]

Red

"Now, now, darlin', We're not done just yet.”

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.7k 

Summary: You’re playing football with the team and Jake gets a little worked up, he goes to cool off but you have plans of your own. 

a/n: Glen Powell is always on my mind guys 😣 i can't escape him

No one on this team is more of a flirt than Jake Seresin, he’s been all over you since the day he laid eyes on you. It’s not that you don’t enjoy the attention but you know better than to give into him. Although your fight is starting to waver. He might be a flirt, a real player, but damn is he perfect.

He is, to say the least, an attractive sight—and that was what annoyed you the most, his perfect smile, the way he'd smile your way, making your heart skip a beat, his cocky demeanor, and the way he looked in his flight suit. 

The beach football game was in full swing, the sun was shining and the team was split into two. You wore a red bikini top and some shorts, and you stood out from the rest of the men as one of the two women in the group.

Hangman was having a really hard time focusing on the game, his eyes constantly traveling to you. The sight of you in your red bikini top, and shorts, your legs on full display. He constantly found himself getting distracted by your body, especially the way your curves looked in the clothing. He was struggling to keep his cool while playing the game but he still was playing decently, however, he kept sneaking glances at you in your lovely attire.

As you moved to block the pass, you noticed Jake was distracted, very much distracted. His eyes were practically glued to your body, it was obvious that he was struggling to focus on the game, the way your body looked in your outfit was driving him insane, he was finding it hard to resist the urge to just stop playing and just look at you instead.

“Are you distracted Hangman?” you quip with a slight smirk. 

Hangman's eyes snapped up from your body and he quickly regained his composure. "Distracted? Me? Never" he replied with a cocky smile, trying to act unaffected. His eyes still lingered on your body for a moment before he quickly looked away.

“Oh really?” you brush your hand against his hip, “You look like you’re imagining me without my top.” Hangman's breath hitched when you brushed your hand against his hip, a shiver running down his spine at your touch. And as you walk away, giving him a suggestive glance over your shoulder, he couldn't help but let out a low, quiet groan.

"God damn you" he muttered to himself as he watched you walk away, his mind replaying your words over and over, the image of you without your top on now burned in his mind. 

Hangman's eyes were fixated on your chest, watching every move as you jumped up, the way your breasts bounced and the way your body moved. He was trying so hard to focus on the game, to ignore the way you were distracting him, but the more he tried, the more his thoughts became filled with only you.

He shifted uncomfortably in his shorts, feeling them becoming tighter and more restricted as his mind filled with thoughts of you, the way you looked in your bikini top. 

As the game ended and your team won, you turned to look at Jake, only to find him looking incredibly distracted. It was obvious that he had been struggling to focus on the game in the last few minutes, his eyes had been constantly on you, the way you moved, the way you looked in your bikini.

"You okay over there, Hangman?" you ask with a knowing smirk, enjoying the effect you were having on him. Jake's eyes snapped up to meet yours, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said with a cocky smile, though his voice was slightly strained. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to act nonchalant, but he couldn't help the way his eyes drifted down to your body again, taking in your appearance.

As the team sits on the beach with their beers, enjoying the sunset, you notice Jake stealing glances at you, his eyes wandering to your body every now and then. You smirk to yourself, knowing exactly what he's looking at.

And when you catch his gaze, you pull your hair back, revealing your collarbone to him, a subtle yet deliberate tease. Hangman's eyes widen slightly, his gaze immediately drawn to the exposed skin, his mouth going dry at the sight.

Jake mumbles something about going for a swim, adjusting his shorts as he walks towards the water. You catch a glimpse of the subtle movement, noticing the way he's trying to hide the aching bulge.

As he enters the water, he lets out a sigh of relief, hoping the cool water will help calm his arousal. But looking around, he catches sight of you sitting on the beach. 

You quickly slip out of your shorts, aware that Jake's gaze was fixed on you. You could feel his eyes on you, watching every move you made. The thought of him watching you made you feel a little bit daring.

As you stepped towards the water, you made sure to move slowly, giving him the full view of your body in your bikini, the evening's light emphasizing your curves and making you shimmer.

“Thought I would join you.” As you stepped into the water, a shiver ran down your spine from the coldness, immediately bringing a sense of goosebumps on your skin. But still, you continued to approach him, your eyes full of mischief.

Jake's eyes followed your every step, his gaze tracing the contour of your body, the way your bikini top moved as you adjusted it, his breaths becoming more shallow as you neared him.

“You seem really worked up there, Seresin.” you tease, stopping in front of him. 

Jake took a shuddering breath, trying to keep his cool as he replied with a smirk. "Worked up, honey? Never."

But his response was strained, his voice hoarse as he struggled to maintain his composure with you standing so close. His eyes were raking over your body once more, taking in the sight of you in your bikini.

“So then, you wouldn’t mind if I swam topless?” you raise an eyebrow, watching his reaction. Jake's eyes widened at your suggestion, a mix of surprise and desire flashing across his face. 

He tried to keep his cool but couldn't help the way his mouth went dry at the thought of you with no top on. "I... uh... I'd actually prefer if you did." he managed to say, his voice gruff and his eyes fixated on you, hungry and full of lust.

“Tsk, of course you would.” you turn your back to him, “Then why don't you do the honor and untie me.” Jake swallowed hard, his eyes following you as you turned around, showing him your back and the strap of your bikini top. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, his hands itching to touch you, to feel your skin against his.

"You really don't need to ask twice," he said, his voice low and hoarse. He took a step forward, his hands moving to the strap on your back, his fingers slightly shaking from excitement and anticipation.

He slowly untied the knot, his eyes never leaving your body, his breathing becoming more labored with each passing second. Jake's eyes were transfixed as the strings dangle at your side, his hand moving closer to your bare skin, yearning to touch you, to feel your body against his. 

But he held back, waiting, waiting to see if you would pull it from around your neck, anticipating the moment when he could finally let himself touch you. "God damn.." he breathed out, his eyes raking over your bare back, his hands twitching by his sides, holding onto the last bit of self-control he had.

“You’re holding back a lot better than I anticipated.” you tease, turning to face him. Jake's breath hitched at your touch, the feel of your finger gently pressing under his chin to make him meet your gaze sent a bolt of electricity through him. 

He tried to keep his cool, he really did, but the feeling of your hand on his skin and the sight of your bare chest in front of him was driving him insane. He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on yours, his voice hoarse as he replied "You have no idea how much I'm holding back, darlin'.."

Your hand trails down his chest, fingers tracing his muscles as you move closer. “I don't want you to hold back Jake.” his eyes darkened with desire as you stepped closer, your bodies almost touching.

He took a ragged breath as your words registered in his mind, "You... you don't?" he managed to breathe out, his voice low and gruff, his body tensing under your touch. You shake your head, a small smirk still painted on your lips. You tuck your bikini top in the waistband of your bottoms, making sure not to lose them. 

“I’ve been teasing you for a reason. Don’t you know how impractical it is to play football in a skimpy bikini?” you brush past him, treading further into the water, beckoning for him to come closer. 

"You have been a tease.. a very good one," he said, his voice low and hoarse with lust. He followed you into the water, his steps becoming more eager as you beckoned him closer, his body aching to touch you.

You stop moving once the water covers your chest, turning to face him once again. “And you’ve been very good at keeping your hands to yourself.” 

Jake couldn't take his eyes off you, watching as the water covered your chest, making your skin glisten in the soft lighting. Your words snapped him out of his trance, his hands itching to touch you, to feel your skin under his palms.

He took a step closer, his hands reaching out to touch you, gently tracing your collarbone with his fingers, the contact sending a shiver down his spine. "I've been trying real hard, but you're making it damn near impossible" he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

You shiver at his touch, hands moving to his hips as you grip him softly. “Then stop resisting your urges, Jake.” 

Jake's breath hitched as your hands move to his hips, gripping him softly, the contact sending a bolt of electricity through him. Your words echoed in his mind, the small permission giving him the last push he needed.

"You really want me to stop holding back, darling?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse, his eyes darkened with lust as he looked down at you, his hands beginning to move, tracing the curves of your body.

“I want you to fuck me.” your fingers dig into his skin as you kiss his chest. “Right here, in the water.” you gaze up at him, eyes full of desire. Jake's breath caught in his throat as your words hit him, a sharp intake of air as the desire in your eyes and your kiss on his chest made his body tense with need.

"You... you're killing me, woman.." he breathed out, his hands gripping your hips, pulling your body closer to him. "Right here, huh? In the water?" he asked, his voice rough with lust as he looked down at you.

“Mhm..” you wrap your arms around his neck, your hardened nipples pressing into his warm chest. “Right here, out in the open.” Jake groaned as your arms wrapped around his neck, your body pressed firmly against his, your nipples hardening against his chest. The feeling sent a shiver of desire through him, his control slipping further and further.

He grabbed your hips, holding you tightly against him, his voice low and gruff as he replied, "You're wicked, darlin'..." he captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss, his body responding to your presence, his need for you growing.

Jake's hands grasped your thighs firmly, gently guiding them to wrap around his waist as the water reached your hips. His strong arms supported your weight effortlessly as he kissed you, his tongue delving into your mouth with a passion that mirrored the heat building in your core. 

His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping the strands as he deepened the kiss, his desire for you unmistakable. The taste of saltwater mingled with the sweetness of your lips, adding a wild, natural flavor to the intensity of the moment. Your legs tightened around him, your body instinctively drawing closer, craving the connection as the cool water enveloped you both. 

The sensation of his bare chest against your skin, the feel of his cock pressing against you, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore were the only things that existed in your world as the kiss grew more urgent, more demanding.

As the kiss grew more heated, Jake's hands slid down to your ass, cupping it firmly as he began to move you both further into the water, the gentle waves now reaching your waist. He knew everyone was around, but the lust in your eyes and the feel of your body against his was too much to resist. 

The water swirled around you, obscuring the lower portions of your bodies as he began to grind up into you, his hardened length pressing against the fabric of your bikini bottoms. You gasped into his mouth as the sensation shot through you, your core already soaked and eager for more. 

The coolness of the ocean water didn't dampen the fire between you; if anything, it made the heat of your bodies stand out even more, a stark contrast to the surrounding elements. The way he held you, the way his body moved against yours, it was like he was claiming you right here and now, and you couldn't get enough of it. 

Your nails dug into his back, urging him closer, the friction between you growing more intense with each passing second. The world around you melted away as your focus narrowed to the two of you, the passion in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

Jake broke the kiss for a moment, his breaths heavy and eyes filled with a primal hunger. He slid his hands down to the waistband of his swim trunks and with a quick motion, slipped them down, his erection springing free and poking into your clothed pussy. He groaned at the sensation, the fabric of your bikini bottom the only barrier between you two. 

His hand slid between your thighs and with a gentle yet firm tug, he slid the fabric aside, exposing your bare pussy to the cool ocean water and his eager length. He leaned back in, capturing your mouth in another fiery kiss as he positioned himself, the tip of his erection nudging at your entrance. 

You moaned into his mouth, the anticipation building, your legs tightening around his waist as you silently begged for him to fill you. Jake's hands gripped your ass tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pushed himself closer, the water rushing in to fill the space between your bodies. 

The pressure was unbearable, the need for him to be inside you growing with each pulse of your heart. And with one final, desperate kiss, he thrust into you, the feel of your warmness enveloping him making him groan with pleasure.

With a groan of pure pleasure, Jake began to slowly guide your hips on him, his powerful thighs flexing as he thrust up to meet your movements. Each stroke was measured, deliberate, as he filled you completely, the friction of your bodies moving together in the cool water sending waves of heat through your core. 

His kisses trailed down from your mouth to your neck, along your collarbone, and to the tops of your breasts, leaving a trail of wetness and desire in their wake. His teeth nipped at your sensitive skin, eliciting gasps and soft moans that only served to spur him on. His hands roamed over your bare back, tracing the lines of your spine as he felt your muscles tighten and release with each movement. 

The sound of your moans and the feel of your tight pussy gripping him was driving him wild. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how much he wanted you, how much he needed this, as his hips met yours in a steady, passionate rhythm. The water around you grew warmer, churned by your vigorous movements and the heat of your passion. 

Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, your body responding to his touch as if it had been made for this moment. His eyes locked on yours, watching the ecstasy build within you, feeling the tension coil tighter with every gasp for breath. His strokes grew more urgent, his kisses more demanding, as he claimed every inch of you, leaving no part of your body untouched by his desire.

Jake's body tensed as his own release grew imminent, his hips bucking up into yours with a desperation that mirrored the need in your eyes. He could feel your warm breath on his shoulder as you buried your face into his neck, the soft moans escaping your lips music to his ears. Each stroke grew more demanding, his cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy with a slickness that only added to the urgency of the moment. 

The water around you swirled with your movements, the waves lapping at your bodies as the intensity grew. His fingers dug into your ass, holding you in place as he drove into you harder, faster, his own breaths coming in ragged gasps. He knew you were close, could feel the tremors in your legs and the way your nails dug into his skin. His movements grew erratic, his need for release overpowering his control. 

The sound of your moans grew louder, yet not loud enough to reach the shore, your body tightening around him as you reached the peak of pleasure. With one final, deep thrust, Jake let go, his body shuddering as he filled you with his warmth, the feeling of your orgasm milking him dry. 

You clung to him, your breaths mingling as the waves of pleasure washed over both of you, leaving you both gasping for air and weak in the knees. The world around you ceased to exist as you both rode the waves of your climax, lost in the moment of pure, unbridled passion.

His face was buried in your hair, his breath hot on your neck as his chest heaved with exertion. He was silent for a moment, the only sounds the gentle lapping of the waves and the distant chatter of the others on the beach.

Finally, he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his gaze roaming over your face as if he was seeing you for the first time. You cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. 

He watched as your legs unwrapped from his waist, a pang of emptiness filling him as he felt you move away. Jake wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as his hands roamed over your body, tracing the lines and curves as if to memorize every inch of you. 

You press a soft kiss to his lips, one much less intense than your last few. Jake responded to the softer kiss with equal tenderness, his lips molding gently against yours. The intensity of the moment had subsided, replaced by a quieter, more intimate connection. 

He savored the feel of your mouth on his, the taste of your lips, the way your bodies fit seamlessly together. His hands held you close, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entry to deepen the connection further.

“Jake,” you murmur his name while pulling back, one hand going to retrieve your bikini top. “Can you tie this back on?” You hand him the small piece of fabric. 

Jake's eyes flutter open as you murmur his name, the sound of your voice sending a shiver down his spine. He watches as you hand him your bikini top, his fingers brushing against yours briefly before he takes it.

"Of course, darlin'" he replies, his voice still hoarse from the previous moments.

He stands in the water, holding the bikini top in his hands, his gaze lingering on your bare chest for a moment longer before he turns his attention to the task at hand. The gentleness of his touch sends a shiver down your back as you lean into his body. 

Jake's fingers move deftly as he ties the bikini top on your back, his hands brushing against your skin as he works. He can feel your body shiver under his touch, the reaction making his heart thump a little faster.

As he finishes tying the final knot, he lets his hands drift to your waist, holding you against him. His chin rests on your shoulder, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "Done, darlin'"

“Mm, thank you.” You pat his chest as you pull away from him, closing your eyes before you plunge into the cold saltwater. 

As soon as you ducked into the cold water, Jake's hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back up to him. He pulled you tight against his chest, relishing the feel of your body pressed against his.

"Now, now, darlin'," he drawled, his voice dripping with charm. "We're not done just yet."

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he let his fingers trail up and down your spine. "Can't have you floating away on me just yet."

[mandatory-ftmbreeder]

I'm ftm, and I am super attracted to men, but I've never been with a man and I don't know how to start. I guess my question is how do you do it? I hesitate every time there's a chance at a conversation, and i can't fathom anything progressing beyond that. I feel stuck lmao.

I have a bit of a slow burn method to this lol.

Ask about his interests and try to establish common ground. Music, food, his clothes, monsterfucking, video games, whatever. If you tend to freak out in the moment and can't come up with topics to talk about, make a list of questions that you can memorize. Things like "Where are you from? What do you do for work? Do you come here a lot? What do you like to do to relax?" And use his answers as avenues to ask more questions. If he responds with "Oh, I like to watch tv and pet my dog after work to relax." You could ask about what kind of stuff he likes to watch, ask about his dog, ask if he likes animals. The important thing is to keep the conversation going. And find mutual interests!

I also rarely ever flirt upfront with someone. I'm very indirect and need a bit of time before I can do that. I much prefer to establish a bit of a friendship with someone, sense their vibe, and then start some lighthearted flirting.

After the initial meeting, I try to maintain contact with the guy through some means. Usually I ask for his instagram or whatever so then I can send him posts I think he'll like.

I also try to find excuses to invite him to hang out. Maybe I got a new video game he's been wanting, so I invite him over to play. Or a new cafe opened that I heard is really good so I ask him if he wants to come with me.

Once we've hung out a few times, I'll start some lighthearted teasing/flirting. I also like to say things that can easily be turned into a dirty joke: I might say "oh fuck you, suck my dick" and see if he responds with something like "Okay, give me a time and place" (possibly a good sign) or if he just kinda laughs uncomfortably or something (possibly not a good sign and I'll ease up)

Once I've established all that and feel like he probably is into me, I'll ramp up the flirting and get dirtier with it. I might also do shit like bend down in front of him and see if he says anything. Any excuse I can get to touch/tease/flirt/etc, I'll take it. Then I just keep trying to be alone with him (especially if we're also drinking or high), keep flirting, and eventually one of you is gonna give in and admit you wanna fuck. (Or kiss or whatever)

Despite acting like a cocky bitch on here sometimes, I'm actually quite hesitant, cautious, and indirect irl lol. This method may be weird or crazy idk but its how I go about it.

You can also look online thru reddit or fetlife or something but that's kind of a hassle and gets exhausting quickly. I prefer meeting people organically irl as much as I can.

Hopefully this helped and wasn't just a jumbled mess 😅

[cannibal-alien]

Heh...dusekkar x shy!reader...

-dusekkar simp anon

🎃dusekkar x shy!reader hcs ⋆˚࿔

omgosh yayyy more dusekkar rqs!!! from da 1 and only dusekkar simp anon... hope this is enough to suffice<3 wrote this while drinking baja blast #theyputcokeinbajablasts #ilovebajablast

- - - - - - - ꒰ ♡ ꒱ - - - - - - -

dusekkar doesn’t mind your shyness! they find it quite endearing, really. they can relate in their own personal way. not shy in the ‘awkward’ sense, but soft spoken & reserved instead. initially, things between you two were rather quiet until dusekkar spoke up first. although they were very, very curious about you, there was a hint of hesitation. it’s safe to say your relationship was preeettyyy slow burn

you’ll start to notice dusekkar drifting toward you more frequently, casually checking in to make sure you’re doing okay. shedletsky even noticed it too, how the pumpkin was growing more and more fond of you each day. shed never fails to tease his friend about it, laughing at how dusekkar tries to brush it off, blushing and fumbling to change the subject. but there was always a touch of amusement in their tone, hmmm

dusekkar waits and waits, waiting for the perfect moment to confess how they feel, but in the spectre’s world there was hardly such a thing, if at all. it was actually shedletsky who managed to convince them, reminding dusekk that no one’s truly promised tomorrow. and the thought of never being able to tell you the truth just didn’t sit right with them.

the quietest, most peaceful place dusekkar could think to take you was the dock, even if it was a bit cliche. they just want to make sure you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable with anyone else around. which dusekkar understood, because even if you were more open, they still would’ve chosen someplace secluded. this moment was meant for you two only. absolutely nobody else was allowed to see them like this, only you

their confession was simple and straight to the point as they’ve had plenty of time to think about it (maybe a little too much.. oops...) dusekkar was careful not to say it in a way that might make you feel pressured, as the last thing they wanted was to make you feel like you owed them something. so when the words finally came out, it was as soft as they could manage. “i adore you more than you may know- no need to rush, please take it slow,”

you two spend hours together reading side by side. sometimes they read audibly, sometimes you just enjoy the comfortable silence. you like resting your head on their shoulder, dozing off to sleep with an ancient spellbook between you. i mean seriously those books are literally falling apart...

something as small as holding hands is enough to make dusekkar feel a liiittleee fuzzy inside, but you’re not much different either. though you’ve noticed their hands are usually kinda.. cold?? dusekk’s grip is firm yet soft and they’ll often take your hand whenever they sense you’re feeling nervous. their touch is sincere and genuine, gentle enough for comfort, never overwhelming. which summarizes the rest of your relationship preeetty well i think!!! lel

[icarusinstatic]

Murderbot Episode 6 review

Non-spoiler review: highly enjoyable, but there is a definite non-small amount of body horror in this episode. It actually gives me hope for Season 2 (if we get it) Murderbot having its operation/alteration done by its future non-human bestie and that scene being done justice. But seriously, no joke, if body horror / scene’s of a medical procedure make you uncomfortable, please be cautious.

Spoiler review under the cut

Mensah and MB’s developing (non-romantic) relationship definitely feels different than the books, but also very similar, if you catch my drift. Yes Mensah, you are still going to be MB’s favorite human, but it’s going to be a relationship founded on a little bit of snark, a definite difference of opinion on the quality of Sanctuary Moon, and a whole lot of understanding of each other’s (not flaws, but points of sensitivity) weak points.

I loved that MB used an episode of Sanctuary Moon to help Mensah come down from a panic attack, and at the same time let Mensah see one of the main things that gives MB a point of reference for humanity. (This is important later in the episode imo).

The body horror of Mensah having to do spinal surgery on MB and being horrified by it, but also seeing that MB is right, this needs to be done for the two of them to get back to the team. She is going to need so much therapy. (MB should get some too, but it’s not there yet).

I have a lot more thoughts on Mensah and Murderbot’s points of view on each other, but those thoughts are currently rotating in my head like a rotisserie chicken, so I might post about that later.

Oh LeBeeBee we hardly knew you - thank god for that.

I will say, despite my genuine distaste for her continued sexualization of MB, I did like how disgusted Gurathin and Baradwaj were hearing LeBeeBee do it. I feel like if Baradwaj and Gurathin were in the hopper to hear he make those first comments about MB while it was unconscious then they would have told off (Gurathin) or gently chided (Baradwaj) LeBeeBee right away.

Gurathin absolutely suspected LeBeeBee of shenanigans from the start, but didn’t have time to warn the rest of the team before Mensah and MB left to launch the beacon. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.

I cannot wait for the threesome to fall apart, please let it happen already. Ratthi basically inserting himself into a moment that he was not invited into was just really off putting to me. Yeah, he’s definitely emotionally into Pin Lee and Arada, but they gave him some pretty obvious “we need some time alone” vibes when he asked them if they wanted his help packing and he still came in later to join them. It’s not just Ratthi’s fault though, because Pin Lee can’t be honest with Arada, and Arada is obviously not ready to terminate the threesome contract. In short, it’s a mess.

Baradwaj, you are my favorite non-Gurathin survey member for a reason, and that reason is your emotional honesty and your desire to see the best in everyone.

Obviously she was never going to get LeBeeBee to turn over a new leaf, that was just not in the cards. But her willingness to try even after LeBeeBee had shot Gurathin and it not feel like just a ploy to save the team, but to help LeBeeBee was really refreshing.

She has spoken to Gurathin about feeling compassion for others before - makes me think he was a real mess when Mensah found him in the CR. I cannot wait for next weeks episode, because I heard it was supposed to be Gurathin heavy.

The ending… OMG the ending was everything to me. (Okay I have one gripe, but that can come later). I feel like MB shooting LeBeeBee while she held a gun to Gurathin’s head was completely justified. Gurathin freaking out because he could have been shot to, was definitely in character, and MB’s pretty blasé response was very in character. Obviously MB wouldn’t have shot Gurathin on accident, but Gurathin was freaked out and MB doesn’t really like him, so fair’s fair. Though, I will say that once he has a chance to think about it I think that Gurathin will be the member of the team that’s not Mensah to really understand MB.

Mensah probably thought that all the work she and MB had done to understand each other went down the drain as soon as MB shot LeBeeBee, but I think this is something that HAD to happen, because MB is right Mensah was treating MB like a human, and that’s not what it is, and is not what it want’s to be. Mensah, by the end of this season, may not be all the way there, but Ideally will be in a good place to get to an understanding of MB in the future. She needs to really “see” MB to be a good friend to it.

Everyone else’s reaction to MB was very visceral, and also very necessary. MB just killed someone in front of them, and these guys are NOT used to the level of violence that MB is. This is NOT normal, and that’s genuinely a good thing for PresAux. There is a reason we say the CR is hell after all. This act of violent protection is outside the norm for PresAux but they are not in a normal situation right now. They are being hunted by another entity (Evil Survey) and they don’t want to hold hands with PresAux, they want to kill them. I feel like this made everything real to the team, and it’s about time they get with the program.

Finally, MB realizing that its clients will not be acting like the Blorblo’s from its shows was really spot on. MB has been using it’s media to understand human’s and it’s self, which is a good thing, but It hasn’t really made the connection that that media isn’t based in real life human’s reactions to those types of situations. It’s going to be a rocky road for MB to walk, but if it wants to self actualize (and it won’t admit it, but it does) then it needs to have these experiences to be able to grow.

I maintain that MB didn’t feel good killing LeBeeBee for the hell of it. It felt good about it, because it was protecting its clients, and getting a bit of revenge for how LeBeeBee had treated it.

I am excited about the rest of the season, and pretty curious to see how everything is going to play out considering the changes that the show is doing, but so far so good. (If someone else sexualizes MB before the end of the season I will throw hands though).

*I wrote this at like 1 in the morning, I tried to keep MB’s It/It’s pronouns but If I messed up at a part, please let me know so I can correct any errors. Thank you guys!

[butchsucker]

(1) NEW MESSAGE (or, ellie accidentally sends a picture to abby that has her knocking on her door)

contents: subtop!ellie, dombottom!abby, pussy eating, fingering, strap-on use, abby throwing ellie around, overstim, technically college!au, but i will not pretend like that matters, pretty much just porn.

word count: 5,468

It’s a few minutes shy of midnight when Abby’s phone buzzes on her nightstand. Nothing unusual about that. Her screen lights up with the kind of low glow that usually signals an Instagram reel from Manny or a spam text about winning a cruise she never entered.

But this one stops her thumb mid-scroll. It’s from an unsaved number. That’s the first oddity. The second is that it’s a photo. She frowns, instinctively wary, but taps the notification anyway, thumb sluggish from sleep. The image bursts onto her screen and her breath catches like a fist tightening in her chest.

Her heart stutters, then barrels forward at a sprint. Because she knows that body: lean muscle wrapped in sun-kissed skin, a constellation of freckles she’s glimpsed only in the periphery of locker room glances.

Ellie. Naked from the waist up, her jeans slung low enough to reveal black harness straps sharp against her hips. Her lip caught between her teeth, a casual sort of suggestion in the way one hand rests on her taut stomach like she’s offering something. A sheen of sweat glistens at her collarbone. Post-workout, maybe. There’s a message below the photo, short and utterly incendiary: Thinking about you.

Abby stares. Her pulse beats hard in her ears, drowning out the soft hum of late-night traffic outside her window. It doesn’t make sense. Not in the cosmic, karmic, world-spinning-off-its-axis kind of way.

Ellie Williams—her teammate, her occasional sparring partner in post-practice banter, the girl who’s always two seconds away from a fight (usually with Abby)—sent her this? There’s no reason for it, no context.

They aren’t friends. They barely tolerate each other’s presence, each interaction laced with competitive edge or thinly veiled snark. The only reason they even have each other’s numbers is the team group chat, a necessary evil for coordinating practice schedules and lineup changes. Abby hadn’t thought twice about it. And now she’s staring at a picture that feels like it was meant for someone else. Has to be.

Her brain scrambles for a rational response. Maybe it was an accident. A misfire. Maybe Ellie meant to send it to someone else—a girlfriend, a situationship, whoever her harness-and-sweat selfies are usually reserved for. It’d make more sense.

Thinking about you.

She chews on the inside of her cheek. She could ignore it. Probably should. But then what? Just pretend it never happened? Let Ellie squirm in silence? That doesn’t sit right either. The last thing she wants is for Ellie to feel weird around her—or worse, think she’s made Abby uncomfortable. And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? The thing twisting low in her stomach. Because she isn’t uncomfortable. Not really. If she’s honest, and God help her, she hates being honest with herself about this. She’s…something else.

Ellie doesn’t seem like the type to be embarrassed by something like this, not with the way she carries herself like she’s always in on the joke before it’s even been told. Abby’s overheard enough of her cocky, borderline obscene anecdotes to know modesty isn’t exactly in her vocabulary.

And yet, this feels different. Personal. Intimate in a way that Abby isn’t sure how to categorize. She locks her phone and sets it down face-first, staring up at the ceiling like the plaster might offer answers. But her mind is a hurricane of possibilities, and all of them start with the same unthinkable truth: she’s seen Ellie Williams in a way she never has before and she doesn't want to look away.

Abby doesn’t mean to hit “call.” Not really. Her thumb hovers over the screen for a full five minutes, the photo burned into her retinas. Every rational part of her is screaming to leave it alone, but she can’t. Her thumb moves like it has a mind of its own, and suddenly the phone is ringing. One ring. Two. Three—shit, she’s going to hang up.

What the hell is she even doing? Who calls people about this? She doesn't know the perfect solution, but it can't possibly be this.

And then it clicks.

“Hello?” A voice, rough and cotton-thick with sleep, stretches through the line.

Abby freezes. She’s already halfway to pulling the phone away when Ellie keeps going, her tone flipping quick into mischief like a switchblade flicked open.

“Wow. Didn’t think you’d be calling me back that fast,” Ellie drawls. There’s the distinct sound of bed sheets rustling. “But I'm glad you did. Anderson's been such a hard-ass lately, I could really use the relief.”

Abby scoffs, agitation overriding panic. “Jesus. You’re such a slacker.”

There’s a beat. A pause that splinters at the edges. Then—

“…Wait.” The voice sharpens. “Wait, what the fuck—Anderson?”

And just like that, any softness Abby might’ve brought into this call evaporates like mist under a blowtorch.

“Why the fuck are you on my phone right now?” Ellie all but screeches, the soft, sleepy edge gone from her voice.

Abby pushes herself up from the bed, pacing without realizing it, voice tighter than she means it to be. “You’re the one who interrupted my night, Williams. Why the fuck was I just looking at your tits?”

There’s a pause so long Abby wonders if the call dropped. But no. It’s Ellie, very much still there, very much absorbing what she just said.

Then, low and slow: “…Dude. That is my bad.”

And then Ellie starts laughing. Not a small chuckle, not a little embarrassed giggle but a full-bodied, wheezing, what-the-fuck-is-life laugh, like this is the best goddamn comedy set she’s ever heard in her life. Abby pulls the phone away slightly, eyebrows drawn together, equal parts stunned and offended.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she mutters, but it only makes Ellie laugh harder.

“I just—Oh my God, Anderson,” she gasps between cackles. “You saw that? I sent that to you? Holy shit.”

“You think this is funny?” Abby deadpans.

“It’s hilarious. So...did it get you all hot and bothered?”

“I'm not—” Abby starts, but then shuts her mouth. Because fine. Yes. A little.

“Fuck,” Ellie says again, and Abby can hear the grin in her voice now. “Out of all the people I could’ve accidentally sexted…”

“Lucky me,” Abby says dryly.

“Seriously. You gonna make a formal complaint to Coach? Get me benched for harassment?”

Abby closes her eyes. There’s a headache forming behind her left eye. “No. But maybe you should stop taking thirst traps when you could be practicing.”

“That's cool and all, but it feels like the trap is working.” Ellie hums. “You called me, didn’t you?”

Abby glares at her bedroom wall like it personally wronged her. “I think you have a face that should be punched.”

Ellie laughs again, softer this time. “Come over and punch it then.”

Abby scoffs. "You're ridiculous."

“You should just come over,” Ellie says, like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world. Like they aren't consistently seconds away from tearing each other to shreds. “I mean, you’re already up. We’ve crossed the threshold of decency at this point.”

Abby snorts. “No fucking way.”

“Why not?” Ellie asks, sing-song. “Too scared?”

Abby lets that hang in the air, refuses to dignify it with an answer. Her silence is all the fuel Ellie needs.

“You’re thinking about it,” she says, voice low and smug. “I can hear it. That little wheel spinning in your big ol’ head—”

“I’m not.”

Ellie chuckles, like she doesn’t believe her for a second. “C’mon. I swear on my life, I fuck good.”

Abby presses the heel of her hand to her forehead and lets out a noise that’s somewhere between frustration and disbelief. “You are so full of yourself.”

“Yeah,” Ellie replies, unapologetic. “And you're still on the phone.”

“Guess I should hang up,” Abby says, but doesn't, unable to resist the pull of their usual back-and-forth.

“Why do you deny yourself heaven? I could change your life.” Her voice dips in a way that’s meant to fluster, and annoyingly, it does.

Abby walks over to the window and yanks the curtain closed, like that’ll help settle her nerves. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You wanna come over,” Ellie teases. “You just don’t wanna admit it. But picture this: my bed, me in my boxers, you sitting all awkward and stiff because you won’t let yourself relax. But when I get my hands on you...you'd melt.”

“I’m hanging up now,” Abby mutters.

“Chicken.”

“I swear to God—”

“Come on, Anderson. What’ve you got to lose?”

“My dignity?”

“Oh, that ship sailed when admitted to staring at my tits.”

Abby grits her teeth, opens her mouth to fire back, then closes it again. A breath. Another.

"I wasn't staring."

Ellie hums, obviously delighted in the way she worms under Abby's skin. "Weren't you, though?"

“…Goodnight, Ellie.”

“Aww, don’t be like—”

Click.

Abby tosses her phone onto the bed and stares at it for a long moment, arms crossed, mouth tight. The silence stretches, comfortable in its own tension.

She should just go to bed.

Abby knocks softly, hoping Ellie doesn’t make a whole thing out of it. Which, in hindsight, is exactly the kind of delusional optimism that led her here in the first place. She’s standing on Ellie’s porch in a pair of gray sweatpants and a black tank top, sports bra underneath because it was closest and clean.

The door swings open and there’s Ellie. Barefoot, boxers low on her hips, legs covered in a few bruises from their last game. She’s wearing a cropped band tee that’s been through one too many dryers and reads “ANARCHY IN THE YOUTH LEAGUE” in cracked red letters across the chest. Her smile is slow and sleep-warmed and smug in a way that makes Abby want to shove her or kiss her, or maybe both.

“Well, well,” Ellie says, one hand braced on the doorframe like she’s in a coming-of-age movie. “Look who showed up anyway.”

Abby rolls her eyes so hard it hurts. “Shut the fuck up.”

Ellie’s grin stretches. “Please let me say I told you so? Because I really want to say it.”

Abby steps forward and pushes her way inside without waiting for permission. “Seriously. Shut up.”

Ellie lets out a low laugh, stepping back, letting the door fall shut behind her. Abby doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t want to give Ellie the satisfaction of seeing her face—because it’s doing something, and she doesn’t even know what. All she knows is that she’s here, and Ellie’s warm, and the air between them is thick enough to slice with a knife.

“Make yourself at home,” Ellie says, voice bright, teasing. “My fuck palace is your fuck palace.”

Abby shoots her a glare over her shoulder. “I hate the idea that you say stuff like that and girls still have sex with you.”

"And yet they do!" Ellie grins wider, like she’s already won. "Exhibit A," she says, motioning towards Abby.

The hall is dim, the only light coming from the warm lamp glow spilling out of Ellie’s room like something half-inviting, half-dangerous. Abby steps in, eyes adjusting, and takes a slow breath before lowering herself to sit on the edge of the bed. Her hands rest on her thighs, fingers flexing.

The mattress gives under her weight, too soft. Too intimate. She feels her heart kicking up again, that old instinct screaming to retreat, to reassert control, to not fall into whatever this is—this mess, this heat, this girl.

Ellie watches her, leaning in the doorway like she’s seen this kind of hesitation before. Like she knows exactly what to do with it. She walks over with all the ease of someone who’s never second-guessed a single goddamn thing in her life, and when she stops between Abby’s knees, that cocky smirk is already blooming. “You’re nervous,” she says, mock-sweet. “That’s adorable.”

Abby scowls. “I’m not nervous.”

Ellie arches a brow. “You sure? Sitting there like you’ve never been in a bedroom before.”

“Shut up,” Abby mutters, but she doesn’t move. Not even when Ellie leans in, palms on either side of her thighs, close enough that Abby can smell her skin, the lazy linger of laundry detergent and sleep. And then Ellie’s kissing her. No hesitation, no question. There is only warm lips and wicked tongue and soft hands tugging her forward by the front of her shirt like she belongs closer.

Abby groans into it, caught off guard by the rush that slams into her chest, that pools hot in her belly. She kisses back harder, tilts her chin, grips Ellie’s hip like she can anchor herself there. But then Ellie pulls back with a breathless little laugh, eyes shining.

“Y'know, Anderson,” she says, smug and breathy. “Didn’t know you were that into me.”

Abby huffs, cheeks flushed. “You’re unbearable.”

Ellie grins. “That's not a very nice way to talk to someone who's about to be fucking you.”

Abby doesn’t bother replying. She stands instead, all tense muscles and simmering heat, and before Ellie can get another word in, Abby grabs her by the waist and lifts just enough to toss her backward onto the bed with a soft oomph. Ellie sprawls across the sheets, laughing as she props herself up on her elbows.

“Well damn,” she says. “And here I thought you'd be all cute and willing. Gonna make me work for it, huh?”

Abby shrugs, nonchalant, even though her heart’s doing parkour in her chest. “Of course.”

Ellie watches her with something greedy in her gaze as Abby reaches for the waistband of her sweats and drags them down her legs in one smooth motion, leaving herself in just her tank and a pair of dark briefs.

She doesn’t miss the way Ellie’s eyes track her every movement, like she’s cataloging everything, like she’s been waiting for this moment with an aching kind of patience. She's sitting fully up now, legs criss-crossed. Abby climbs onto the bed, slow and heavy, not yet sure if she's down to surrender.

They’re barely settled before the next argument sparks — natural, inevitable.

“Lie down,” Abby says, nudging Ellie’s hip.

“You lie down,” Ellie counters, shifting her weight just to be stubborn.

Abby gives her a look. “Why would I—?”

“Because I’m trying to eat you out, dumbass.”

Abby’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

Ellie grins, teeth sharp in the low light. “What? You want your pussy ate or not?”

Abby groans and drops her head back against the pillow. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

But she lays back anyway.

Because she does, in fact, want that.

Ellie’s hands are warm on Abby’s thighs, fingers spread wide, thumbs brushing along the inside like she’s mapping out every inch. Abby's breath hitches without her permission, chest rising and falling with a rhythm that’s already offbeat.

Abby watches shamelessly as Ellie drapes herself between her legs like it’s her natural habitat. And maybe it is. Maybe this is where Ellie Williams thrives: with her face buried between a girl’s thighs.

“You can relax, you know,” Ellie murmurs, mouth grazing the inside of Abby’s knee, voice all soft provocation. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“You actually haven't stopped touching me,” Abby grumbles, breath catching again as Ellie presses a lingering kiss higher.

“You know what I mean,” Ellie says, smiling against her skin.

She doesn’t rush. She works slowly, like she wants to savor it, like she’s giving Abby every opportunity to bail. Eventually her thumbs hook under the waistband of Abby’s briefs, and she glances up.

“Good?”

Abby grits her teeth and nods once. “Hurry up.”

“Bossy,” Ellie mutters, but she's grinning. She peels the briefs down slowly, watches the way Abby shifts, how her breath gets shakier with each inch of skin exposed. Then Ellie tosses them somewhere off the bed and lowers herself fully, shoulders braced under Abby’s thighs.

The first swipe of her tongue is gentle, exploratory. Just a taste. But it’s enough to make Abby jolt, her spine arching slightly off the mattress as a low sound escapes her throat. Ellie hums, pleased, and licks again. And again. Until Abby’s head falls back and her hand finds the sheets, twisting them tight around her fingers.

Ellie’s mouth is warm, steady, methodical. She kisses and sucks like she’s trying to prove something. She's always trying to prove something. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and Abby, for all her pride and restraint, can’t fucking hide it.

Her breathing grows uneven, soft curses slipping through clenched teeth. Her thighs twitch under Ellie’s grip, and when Ellie slips her tongue a little deeper, curling it just right, Abby moans. Low and sharp, involuntary.

Ellie pulls back just slightly, lips slick and smug. “That was a very pretty noise.”

Abby exhales hard through her nose, scowling up at the ceiling. “Keep going or I’m going to wring your neck.”

“You could say please,” Ellie teases, already dragging her tongue in a slow, deliberate stripe back up. She pauses just before reaching her again, hovering like she's waiting.

Abby lets out a sharp, frustrated noise and lifts her head just enough to shoot her a glare. “Ellie.”

“God, I love when you say my name like that.” Her voice drops, thick with satisfaction, and then—without warning—she sinks two fingers into Abby, slow but certain. Abby gasps, the sound raw and sharp, catching in her throat like it surprised even her.

Ellie kisses just above her clit, then settles back in without preamble—tongue and fingers working in tandem, slow and deep and mercilessly steady. Abby’s hips begin to rock into her mouth, chasing every inch of contact, every spark of friction. There’s no shame in it anymore. No hesitation. Just need.

Her breathing goes uneven, then ragged soft, broken sounds pouring out of her, interspersed with the occasional gasp whenever Ellie changes her angle or pressure. It’s good, so good, but it’s not enough.

Ellie knows that. Of course she does.

She keeps slowing down just as Abby teeters close to the edge, pulling back with a deliberate drag of her tongue or easing the pressure of her fingers by the smallest, most maddening degree. Abby doesn’t even have to look to know Ellie’s smiling—smirking—because every time she forces another frustrated sound out of her, it only feeds her.

“Stop fucking around,” Abby growls, reaching down and fisting a hand in Ellie’s hair to tug her up. The sudden movement earns her a surprised little sound, and that smug grin still lingers at the corners of Ellie’s mouth.

“I’m gonna go home. Swear to god.”

Ellie just laughs, soft and low, her eyes half-lidded with heat. “No, you’re not.” She drops her gaze again, presses a kiss to the inside of Abby’s thigh, then ghosts her lips over her clit so lightly it’s more suggestion than touch. When her eyes lift again, they’re molten. “You know, I still haven’t heard you say please.”

Abby doesn’t respond. Instead, she tightens her thighs around Ellie’s shoulders, hooks her legs underneath to trap her, and flips them in one smooth motion. Ellie lets out an indignant squeak, cut off by a breathless laugh as she lands flat on her back.

Abby keeps her pinned, thighs pressing firm against Ellie’s arms, holding her exactly where she wants her. She leans forward, panting, flushed, hovering above Ellie’s face.

“This okay?” she asks, voice low and shaken but sure.

Ellie looks up at her with wide, wild eyes, pupils blown and mouth parted in awe. Her breath stutters before she grins and nods almost frantically.

“Shit. You’re so fucking hot.”

Abby watches that look in Ellie’s eyes shifts from want into hunger, pupils dilating so wide they nearly swallow the green. And then, without breaking her gaze, she sinks down.

Ellie moans into it, the sound muffled and desperate. Her arms twitch, instinctively trying to rise, to reach for Abby’s hips, her thighs, anything. But they’re still pinned by the weight of Abby’s legs, useless. Trapped.

Her hands flex against the sheets in frustration.

Abby hums, low and almost sympathetic. “No,” she says, steady, breath catching just slightly as she adjusts her weight and rolls her hips down more firmly. “You don’t get to touch.”

Ellie groans, straining again, her fingers curling like she could will them free. She tries to speak, but Abby just tightens her hold and cuts her off with a slow grind of her hips, smearing slick across Ellie’s mouth, her chin, her nose.

“You had your chance,” Abby says, voice thinner now, a little frayed around the edges. “You fucked around.”

She drags herself forward, slow and deliberate, rides Ellie’s face from tongue to chin to nose, then back again, chasing the contact, the edge, the pressure.

Ellie’s tongue is relentless, mouth open wide, licking and sucking like she’s starved. Her eyes roll and flutter shut, hands still pinned, but she arches up as much as she can beneath Abby’s weight, chasing every movement like it might be the last.

Abby starts panting harder, rhythm faltering as sensation builds, her thighs trembling where they cage Ellie’s head. Her hands grip the headboard behind Ellie for leverage, knuckles white, arms shaking.

“God—fuck, just—” she gasps, jaw slack, hips stuttering forward with less control now, mouth open but too overwhelmed to keep speaking.

Ellie groans into her again, deep and guttural, and that’s all it takes.

Abby comes hard, legs seizing around her, riding through it with long, grinding rolls, burying Ellie in her until her whole body starts to go soft, boneless and spent. She keeps going until it’s too much—until she finally lets herself lift up, barely, and shifts to the side, chest heaving, heart pounding in her ears.

For a long second, neither of them moves. Just the sound of their breathing in the dim room.

Ellie eventually makes a strangled little noise—half whimper, half laughter. “Come here,” she says, pulling Abby in by the back of her head. She slots their mouths together, kisses her sloppy and uncoordinated.

Abby laughs softly into her mouth, grips her by the chin to hold her steady and deepens the kiss. She bites at Ellie's lip, revels in the little gasp that pulls from her.

"So, about that life-changing fucking?" Abby asks, rubbing her hands along Ellie's side.

Ellie grins against Abby’s mouth, eyes glittering with something sharp and dangerous. She pulls away with a final nip to Abby’s bottom lip, then rolls off the bed in one smooth motion. Abby watches her move, lazy and sated but buzzing just under the surface with anticipation.

Ellie digs through the top drawer of her dresser with the kind of frantic determination that makes Abby smile to herself, even as her thighs twitch from exertion.

“Get on your hands and knees,” Ellie says, voice thick and a little rough around the edges as she straps in.

Abby arches an eyebrow but moves anyway, slow and deliberate, turning and sinking onto her elbows before lifting herself up onto all fours. Her ass tilts back instinctively, back curved with just enough invitation. “Okay,” she says, soft but not shy, a little amused. “You can have this one.”

She doesn’t say she wants it too. Ellie already knows anyway.

Ellie returns to the bed, kneels behind her, and runs her hands over the backs of Abby’s thighs, up to the swell of her ass. Abby shivers. Then Ellie grabs the base and drags the tip slowly through her folds—slick and ready, teasing without comment.

Abby exhales sharply, pushes back a little without thinking.

And then Ellie’s lining up and sinking in, slow and deep and steady. Abby’s head dips between her shoulders, a long breath spilling out of her mouth as she takes it. It’s thick, the stretch just enough to burn, and Ellie gives her every inch with maddening control.

She pulls all the way out, until just the head stays hooked inside, then thrusts back in with a groan.

Again. And again.

Abby starts meeting her halfway, slamming her hips back with precise force, the wet clap of contact echoing obscenely in the room. Every time Ellie pulls out, Abby follows, chasing the drag and the heat and the friction.

“Fuck, Abby,” Ellie pants, her voice barely holding together. “That’s it. Just like that. You're—shit—you’re so fucking good at this.”

Her pace begins to stutter. She still pulls all the way out each time, but now she drives back in faster, deeper, each thrust more desperate than the last. Abby keeps up, refuses to be passive, her ass bouncing back with a rhythm that leaves Ellie gasping.

“God, you feel...fuck...you feel so good around me.”

Abby hears it in her voice, that telltale tremble, and grins despite herself.

“Oh my god,” she laughs breathlessly, “you’re about to come already, aren’t you?”

Ellie lets out a strangled noise and tries to slow her hips, to pull herself back from the edge, but Abby can feel the twitch in her rhythm, the way her hands scrabble at her waist now like she needs to hold on or she’ll fall apart.

“So much for life-changing,” Abby teases.

Ellie keens. “Shut up, I—god, it’s your fault. You’re so—fuck, you’re too hot, taking it too good—”

The praise goes straight through her. Abby makes a sound dangerously close to a giggle, a new wave of arousal soaking her thighs.

“Yeah?” she says. “Then keep fucking me. I don’t care if you come. Don’t care if you’re sensitive. You better not fucking stop.”

Ellie sobs something incoherent and tries. She really tries.

But she only manages a few more thrusts before she’s coming, hips jerking out of rhythm, her moan muffled against Abby’s shoulder as she collapses forward, arms trembling with the effort to keep moving.

Abby doesn’t let her rest. She reaches back, grips Ellie by the thigh, and starts grinding back against her with purpose.

“You’re not done,” she growls. “Come on, babe. Give me more.”

Ellie whimpers but obeys, her whole body shaking as she starts moving again—slower, uneven now, her hips stuttering with overstimulation, but she doesn’t stop.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Abby pants. “Good girl. Just like that.”

Ellie’s a mess—sweat-damp and flushed, brow furrowed like she’s on the edge of breaking.

Eventually Abby takes pity on her.

She pushes Ellie down onto her back, straddles her, and sinks back onto the strap in one smooth movement. Ellie moans so loud it breaks into a sob, arms flung out above her as Abby starts to ride.

There’s no teasing now. No pretense. Abby fucks herself on Ellie’s cock with single-minded focus, her rhythm relentless, using her like a toy like a gift. She chases her own pleasure with a growing hunger, her pace building and building until it crests into something loud and breathtaking and final.

She falls apart with a cry, shuddering and grinding down until it’s too much, everything gone electric and raw beneath her skin.

Ellie can only lie there, stunned, dazed, her chest heaving as Abby finally slumps forward, kisses pressed soft into her neck.

“My bad for thinking I could keep up with you,” Ellie mutters, still catching her breath. “You’re a fucking animal, Anderson.”

“Maybe you’d be able to keep up if you stopped skipping practice,” Abby says, voice worn but smug. She pulls back just far enough to meet Ellie’s eyes, grinning. “And wasted less energy trying to start fights with me.”

“What can I say? I like it when you get angry.” Ellie shrugs beneath her, the movement lazy and loose. “I also like that I’m the only one who can get you there. Takes me on a real power trip.”

Abby rolls her eyes. “There’s definitely something very wrong with you.”

That punches a laugh out of Ellie—quiet and bright and completely unguarded. “You’re the one trying to lecture me while I’m still inside you.”

Abby snorts and slowly eases off of her, limbs wobbly. “Not my fault you’re too slow to pull out.”

“Rude,” Ellie mutters, but she’s still grinning, stretching her arms up over her head like a cat, then watching Abby from beneath her lashes.

“Hey,” she says, quieter this time, still a little breathless. “We gonna do this again?”

Abby glances over her shoulder, already halfway to the bathroom, and raises an eyebrow. “You mean the part where I throw you around or the part where I do everything myself while you whine?”

Ellie grabs a pillow and throws it at her—it misses by a mile.

Abby catches it anyway, tucks it under her arm, and softens just a little. “Yeah,” she says, quieter. “We are.”

Ellie’s smile goes crooked—pleased but almost surprised—and she sits up, stretching again before starting to clean herself up. “Cool,” she says, trying not to sound too eager as she pulls off the harness and grabs a towel. “You wanna stay the night?”

Abby looks over at her, eyes narrowed like she’s trying to decide if it’s a trap. But there’s something easy in Ellie’s face now. Open. Undemanding.

“Yeah,” Abby says again, after a beat. “I’ll stay.”

Ellie doesn’t wait. The second Abby slides back into bed, Ellie is on her, dragging her into a tangle of limbs and blankets, pressing her face into the crook of Abby’s neck like she’s been waiting all night for the excuse.

Abby lets herself be pulled in, arms wrapping around Ellie’s waist, their legs knotting together under the covers.

The room falls quiet except for the slowing cadence of their breathing. Ellie relaxes all at once, like a thread’s been cut, and Abby feels it in the way her muscles go slack against her, the way her fingers curl into Abby’s side just once before going still.

It doesn’t take long before they’re both asleep like that—tangled up, held close, warm.

-

The morning light cuts a soft, golden slant across the room, and Abby moves through it quietly, careful not to wake Ellie as she pulls her shirt back over her head. Her pants are found somewhere at the foot of the bed, so she grabs those next, hopping on one foot as she slides them on, grimacing when her ankle nearly catches on the hem.

The bed shifts behind her, the blankets rustling.

“Where you goin’?” Ellie’s voice is thick with sleep, scratchy and half-muffled by the pillow.

Abby turns just enough to glance at her over her shoulder. Ellie’s still sprawled where she left her, tangled in the sheets like a shipwreck victim, hair a wild halo around her head. One eye open. Barely.

“I’ve got class,” Abby says, voice low. “Shouldn’t even be up this late, honestly.”

Ellie stretches one arm out, palm open. “Just five more minutes.”

Abby rolls her eyes but crosses back to the bed anyway, bending to press a kiss to Ellie’s forehead. Ellie tries to catch her by the back of the neck, dragging her in for a proper kiss, but Abby dodges it, pulling away with a smirk.

“You’re evil,” Ellie grumbles, reaching again, a little more persistent.

Abby leans in just enough to let their lips brush, then pulls back before it can deepen. "You're surprisingly domesticated."

Ellie lets out a wounded little whine that punches straight through Abby’s chest.

“Don’t do that,” she murmurs, eyes flicking over Ellie’s face. “You’re gonna make me skip.”

“So?” Ellie mutters, curling deeper into the blankets. “You already know I’m worth it.”

Abby snorts but can’t help the soft little smile that tugs at her mouth. “Idiot,” she says under her breath as she grabs her bag and makes for the door.

She slips out quietly, pulling the door shut behind her, and heads for the front entrance. But as she crosses the living room and nears the kitchen, she hears her name.

“Abby?”

She freezes mid-step.

There, standing in the kitchen with a mug of coffee and a single raised eyebrow, is Dina.

Abby goes pink immediately.

“Hey, Captain,” Dina says with a smirk, leaning against the counter like she’s been waiting. “What are you doing sneaking out of my house?”

Abby flounders. “I...I wasn’t sneaking. I was just—uh, Ellie said I could crash—”

Dina sips her coffee with the air of someone watching a really good show.

“We were hanging out,” Abby blurts. “Studying. I mean, we had to study. Ellie had to study and I was helping her...study, that is.”

Dina nods solemnly. “Right. Studying. At one a.m.”

“I—” Abby makes a noise like a laugh, then huffs out a sigh. “You’re gonna make this weird, aren’t you?”

“Not at all,” Dina says sweetly. “You’re doing a great job all on your own.”

Abby groans and starts edging toward the door. “Bye, Dina.”

“See you at practice, Captain.” Dina raises her mug in a toast.

Abby walks faster.

[viceria]

Lui character analysis/rant

Before I start my character analysis on Lui, can I just say the number of content my guy has is diabolical. He is literally part of the main four, what do you mean he’s like a rare pokemon where most of their content appeared years ago??? Maybe I still don’t know how to use filters (and please tell me otherwise because he’s such a cool character my god), but it’s just so disappointing.

Back on track, but I believe Lui is by far one of the most observant people in the series. He can understand a situation with a single glance and identify the improvements a blader requires off the bat. He saw Valt once and already knows the potential Valkyrie has, met Red Eye once and connected the dots that he’s Shu, and was the only person to realise Shu’s true goal when he joined forces with Lean by his own. (I know Valt knew, but it was implied that Shu informed him earlier of his plan. Did Valt agree with it? Hell no, but he trusted Shu to not go evil again). Moreover, all of his ‘critiques’ towards people are all factual. They’re just incredibly said out wrongly. While this could just be Lui’s natural behaviour, I think it has something to do with his childhood.

I mean, it’s kinda obvious how he has neglectful parents, considering they allowed a six year old to travel around the world. But on a deeper note, I feel like his character was built on harsh criticism. It would explain how his comments came off as natural, as if it were in his nature to point out someone’s faults than their skills. Moreover, it explains how he never cared when people insults him, since it would be so normalised to encounter. An example would be Gou stopping his teammates from cheering him on in the finals, claiming it would only distract Lui. Just imagine having faced so much disproval in your life that someone’s cheers would act more of a distraction than encouragement. He might even believe that they were nothing more than empty words. I know it’s a minor comment, but it makes Lui’s situation much more grimmer when taken into consideration.

Another analyst is how he isn’t the typical ‘genius’ people claim him as. That is the natural genius, like Free. Instead he trains as hard, or even more harder than Shu throughout the show. Every time we see Lui outside of a battle, it’s always when he’s training, and when he’s not, he would only stay for a few seconds to amuse his interest before returning to his training routine. The only difference between Shu and Lui is experience, literally. Unlike Shu, he knows his body’s limits, and he knows that treating your body poorly would be detrimental to your performance. Using his knowledge over himself, he made an entire training session that aligns perfectly for him. According to the manga - or maybe I’m delusional and imagined it - Lui lacks muscle or the strength most bladers have. So what does he do? Makes a machine focusing on his launching form, training his arm and leg muscles. Which would explain why he has more defined legs and arms than everyone. Moreover, according to the manga, he had to study martial arts to gather enough power despite that lack of strength.

Even then, when Shu does take breaks, he doesn’t seem entirely uncomfortable. At most times, he seems relaxed and generally happy spending time with the people he loves. While he does stress on growing stronger, back then in Burst, he doesn’t make a beeline to train the moment he feels like he isn’t included. It only worsens when he gets manipulated and mentally tormented by Ashtem. On the other hand, Lui looks immensely uncomfortable, often shielded with boredom. He wants to train, and feels like he is getting worse if he doesn’t train every damn second. Hell, he would actively leave a conversation if his use was finished or useless. His team against a weaker opponent? No point in attending when he could train instead. Lost a match? Laughs then walks off. Lost a tournament? Immediately walks back to train. At least Shu is trying to hide it, Lui is a walking workaholic. Hell, he tells Hyuga he trains 24/7 as if it were a normal thing or something praise worthy. Like no that isn’t impressive, that’s depressing.

I would like to point out that this guy has trained for nearly five years and was still way below Free’s level. Sure he was ranked second in the world, but it was so clear that Free saw him as a playmate than anything threatening. Which was why it shocked Free so much when Lui won. Because up until that point, it was hinted that Lui barely won through anything that wasn’t a ring or spin finish. Also to put it into retrospection, Valt trained for one year - excluding the year he bought Valkyrie since he was basically having her as a good luck charm than really trying - and took the belt one try. Shu trained for two years and while thanks to the Requiem Project that exceeded his strength, bet Lui and came close to first against Valt, who was on par on Free’s strength.

This guy is a lot of things, but a natural genius ain’t one of them. The only reason why he was able to win and achieve so much was because of his observation skills and intelligence. Without that, he would be a typical side antagonist against Valt. However, I’m not saying he isn’t talented. I’d say he has ~40% of natural ability and ~60% of hard work. Looking back, he resembles Fubuki more than Suoh. Crazy enough.

Also some side note, since I love his guy (as if that weren’t obvious), this guy is a walking introvert. I don’t understand why people write him out as this angry, always violent guy in some fanfics. Like yeah he is rude, but only when you annoy him. Aside from that, he wouldn’t even bother talking to anyone. He was a loner in school, not a bully. Another thing, it really shows his character development throughout the show as he starts to show more compassion towards people. And before anyone say it- HE WAS ALWAYS COMPASSIONATE. Just towards the people he cares about.

I know very crazy, but HEAR ME OUT.

The only people he cared and respected in Burst were Xhaka, Zac, Gou, and Longinus. However in a more emotional dynamic, Gou and Longinus takes first easy. (The list extends more but for now we’re focusing on pre-timeskip) When he came to Zac’s birthday party, he hated it, but he stayed because Gou asked him to. He hated going to his teammate’s matches because he saw it as a waste of time, but since Gou asked in a serious tone, he obliged. Hell, before he could leave, when Gou told him to stay, he gave in. When Longinus told him to battle Valt, he might’ve groaned a bit but he listened. Same with Aiga and his gang. When Longinus got shattered, bro stared at him like the world fell apart. LIKE HAVE YOU SEEN THE DISTRAUGHT FACE HE MADE STARING AT HIS PARTNER??? He was shaking, genuinely shaking. Eyes darting around at the pieces of Longinus. Like that was more than Valt and Valkyrie and that’s saying something. I kid you not, he should’ve shed tears if Longinus didn’t use the last of his strength to comfort him with a dim glow. I genuinely think that was the first and last time he has ever shown fear towards anything, and the fact it wasn’t some typical overpowered kid with an immense aura to do that, but the wellbeing of his partner shows so much of the person he tries to hide.

Moreover, for Free - YES HE ALSO CARES FOR FREE I SWEAR ON MY LIFE. Lui wasn’t an idiot and knew that Free saw him as a playmate and nothing more, then. I can imagine him hating tardiness, especially when it comes to training. Also considering that Free was the world champion, he would hate to have him be late to their training matches. However, he allows it because despite everything, he has slowly grown to care for him. This is especially shown where Lui showed off his natural personality around him - reserved and dismissive - and even gestured a few genuine smiles towards him.

I could rant off about their growth together but this post is already getting long as it is. If anyone read the entire thing, boy I love you.

[scriptedinkbyxim]

The Maid of Honor

Part One: The Announcement

The one where Theodore Nott has six weeks to get over his best friend and be the best Maid Men of Honor she could ever wish for. Or the one where Theodore Nott has six weeks to tell Y/N Black she is the love of his life before losing her forever.

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Reader, Charlie Weasley x reader, Past! Cedric Diggory x reader.

Warnings: Slight Angst.

A/N: Hi! I'm back but this time with a Harry Potter post-War Fic. I love the movie The Maid of Honor and It inspired me to write this. English Is not my first lenguage so apologises in advance. Don't be a ghost reader. Hope you like It!

Theodore Nott had always prided himself on being unflappable. It was a trait that had served him well during the war, through his father's imprisonment, and in the years that followed when he'd carefully rebuilt his life from the ashes of his family's disgrace. But as he sat in the elegantly appointed private dining room of the Leaky Cauldron, watching Y/N Black's face light up with a happiness he hadn't seen since before Cedric Diggory died, Theo felt his carefully constructed composure begin to crack.

"Charlie proposed three days ago, and I've been dying to tell you!" Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she held up her left hand, where a simple diamond ring caught the candlelight.

Theo forced his lips into what he hoped resembled a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "Three days? And you're only telling me now?" He kept his voice light, teasing, the way it had always been between them. "I'm wounded, Y/N. Truly."

She laughed, that musical sound that had been the soundtrack to his life for as long as he could remember. "Oh, stop being dramatic. You know you're the first person I wanted to tell. Well, after I told Aunt Narcissa and Uncle Lucius, of course. And Draco. But you're definitely in the top five."

"Top five?" Theo clutched his chest in mock horror. "I've been demoted. What's next, am I going to find out about the wedding through the Daily Prophet?"

"Actually," Y/N's smile turned mischievous, "that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Theo, I want you to be my maid of honor."

The words hit him like a Bludger to the chest. Theo blinked, certain he'd misheard. "Your what now?"

"My maid of honor. Well, man of honor, technically, but you know what I mean." Y/N leaned forward, her expression suddenly earnest. "Theo, you're my best friend. You've been there for me through everything – the war, losing my parents, Cedric, those awful years when we were all just trying to survive. When I went to America to train as a Healer, you came with me without question. You're the person I trust most in this world, and I can't imagine getting married without you by my side."

Theo stared at her, his throat tight. She was asking him to stand beside her while she married another man. To smile and be supportive while she promised to love someone else for the rest of her life. The irony was almost poetic in its cruelty.

"Of course," he heard himself say, his voice steady despite the chaos in his chest. "I'd be honored."

The relief that washed over Y/N's face was immediate and profound. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Thank you. I was worried you might think it was weird, having a man as maid of honor, but—"

"Nothing about our friendship has ever been conventional," Theo interrupted, his thumb brushing over her knuckles before he forced himself to let go. "Besides, someone needs to make sure those Weasley women don't corrupt you with their wholesome family values."

Y/N snorted with laughter. "Ginny Potter is going to be one of my bridesmaids, you know. Along with Pansy, Astoria and..." she paused, her expression growing slightly uncomfortable, "Daphne."

Theo raised an eyebrow. "Daphne Greengrass? Your future sister-in-law's sister, who also happens to be my ex-girlfriend who absolutely despises me?"

"The very one." Y/N grimaced. "Tori insisted. Something about family harmony and fresh starts. I think Draco's hoping that having her in the wedding party will help smooth things over between our families. It was weird that she stopped talking to me after fifth year."

"Well, this should be interesting," Theo murmured, taking a long sip of his firewhiskey. "When's the happy day?"

"Six weeks."

Theo choked on his drink. "Six weeks? Y/N, that's—"

"I know it's fast," she said quickly, her cheeks flushing pink. "But Charlie got offered a promotion. He's going to lead the dragon sanctuary in Romania, and he wants us to be married before we move. It's a wonderful opportunity, and the timing just worked out perfectly."

Six weeks. Theo felt something cold settle in his stomach like a lead weight. Six weeks to watch the woman he'd been in love with for over a decade marry someone else. Six weeks to plan a wedding that would take her away from him permanently. Six weeks to figure out how to smile and be happy for her when his heart was breaking.

"Romania," he repeated, his voice carefully neutral. "That's... quite far."

Something in his tone must have given him away because Y/N's expression softened. "Oh, Theo. I know it's a big change, but it's not forever. Charlie says the position is for three years initially, and we'll visit all the time. London will always be home."

Three years. Three years of letters and occasional visits instead of daily conversations and impromptu dinners. Three years of being an ocean away while she built a life with someone else.

"I'm happy for you," Theo said, and he almost managed to sound like he meant it. "Charlie's a good man. He'll take care of you."

"He will," Y/N agreed, her smile returning. "Theo, I know this must seem sudden, but I love him. I really, truly love him. For the first time since Cedric, I feel... whole again."

The knife in Theo's chest twisted a little deeper. He remembered the girl who had cried in his arms for months after Cedric's death, who had blamed herself for surviving when he didn't. He remembered holding her through nightmares and panic attacks, watching her slowly piece herself back together with a strength that had awed him. He'd been so proud of her progress, so grateful to see her healing.

He just hadn't expected her healing to take her away from him.

"You never told me how did you meet." Theo said, because that's what a good friend would ask.

Y/N's face lit up again, and Theo settled in to listen to the story of how the woman he loved had fallen for someone else.

Φ

Ten months earlier

Y/N had been sitting alone at a corner table in the Leaky Cauldron, checking her watch for the third time in five minutes. Theo was over an hour late, which wasn't entirely unusual – his tendency to lose track of time when he was with a woman was a running joke among their friend group – but tonight felt different. Tonight, she'd had something important to tell him.

She'd been offered a position at St. Mungo's, completing her Healer training that she'd started in New York. It meant staying in London permanently, putting down roots again after years of feeling adrift. It meant building a real life instead of just existing day to day. She'd wanted Theo to be the first to know.

But as the minutes ticked by and her dinner grew cold, Y/N felt the familiar sting of disappointment. This was the third time this month that Theo had stood her up for one of his conquests. She understood, in theory – after everything they'd been through during the war, they all deserved to find comfort where they could. But it still hurt to feel like she was coming in second to whatever witch had caught his eye that week.

She was just about to give up and go home when a voice behind her said, "Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you could use some company."

Y/N turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered man with kind blue eyes and weathered hands standing beside her table. His red hair was long and tied back in a practical ponytail, and he had a small scar running along his jawline that spoke of dangerous work.

"I'm fine," she said automatically, then sighed. "Actually, no. I'm not fine. I'm stood up, apparently."

The man's expression grew sympathetic. "Mind if I sit? I'm Charlie, by the way. Charlie Weasley."

“Y/N Black," she replied, gesturing to the empty chair across from her. "And yes, before you ask, those Blacks. Though I prefer to think of myself as the reformed branch of the family tree."

Charlie's grin was warm and genuine. "I don't judge people by their family names. Trust me, being a Weasley comes with its own set of assumptions."

They'd talked for hours that night. Charlie told her about his work with dragons in Romania, about the challenges of conservation and the thrill of working with such magnificent creatures. Y/N found herself sharing stories about her training in New York, about the differences between American and British magical medicine, about her hopes for her career at St. Mungo's.

It wasn't until much later that she realized she hadn't thought about Theo once during their entire conversation.

Φ

"And that was it," Y/N finished, her eyes soft with memory. "We've been writing to each other ever since. He comes to London whenever he can get leave, and I visited him in Romania twice. He's... he's everything I didn't know I was looking for, Theo."

Theo nodded, his chest tight. "He sounds perfect for you."

"He is." Y/N's smile was radiant. "I know it probably seems fast to everyone else, but when you know, you know. Right?"

"Right," Theo echoed, though the word tasted like ash in his mouth.

They talked for another hour about wedding plans and guest lists, about Y/N's excitement for her new life and her nerves about meeting more of Charlie's family. Theo played his part perfectly – the supportive best friend, excited for her happiness, ready to help with whatever she needed. It was a performance he'd been perfecting for years, and by now it came as naturally as breathing.

It was only after Y/N had kissed his cheek goodbye after he walked her to Grimmauld Place that Theo allowed his mask to slip and finally let himself feel the full weight of what he would lose.

He'd been in love with Y/N Black since they were thirteen years old. He'd loved her through her relationship with Cedric, had held his tongue because he'd seen how happy Diggory made her. He'd loved her through her grief after Cedric's death, had been there to pick up the pieces without expecting anything in return. He'd loved her through the war, through the years of healing and rebuilding, through their time in New York and their return to London.

He'd told himself there would be time. That someday, when she was ready, when the wounds had healed and the timing was right, he would find the courage to tell her how he felt. He'd convinced himself that their friendship was so strong, their connection so deep, that she must feel something too.

But now she was getting married in six weeks, and he was going to have to stand beside her and watch her promise herself to someone else.

Theo wished for another firewhiskey and thougth on how he was going to survive the next six weeks without falling apart completely.

Φ

Fifteen years earlier - Malfoy Manor

"Theo, look what I found!"

Eight-year-old Y/N came running across the manor's back garden, her dark hair flying behind her like a banner. In her cupped hands, she carried something small and fragile – a baby bird that had fallen from its nest.

"Is it hurt?" nine-year-old Theodore asked, abandoning the Quidditch magazines he'd been reading with Draco to examine her find. Even then, he'd never been able to ignore Y/N when she needed something.

"I think its wing is broken," Y/N said, her dark eyes wide with concern. "We have to help it, Theo. We can't just leave it to die."

Theo looked at the tiny creature in her hands, then at her face, and felt something shift in his chest. Y/N had always been like this – drawn to wounded things, determined to fix what was broken. It was one of the things that made her special.

"Alright," he said, already mentally cataloging what they would need. "Let's take it inside. I think mother might  know a spell that can help."

They spent the rest of the afternoon in Theo's room, carefully tending to the bird. Y/N held it while Theo’s mom performed a simple healing charm he'd overheard her use on their owl. When the tiny creature's wing was mended, they made it a nest in a box and took turns feeding it drops of water.

"Do you think it will be okay?" Y/N asked that evening, curled up beside Theo on his bedroom floor, both of them watching the bird sleep.

"It will be," Theo said with the confidence of a nine-year-old who thought he could fix anything if he just tried hard enough. "We'll take care of it until it's strong enough to fly away."

Y/N smiled at him, bright and trusting, and Theo felt that strange flutter in his chest again. "You always know what to do, Theo. That's why you're my best friend."

"Always," Theo promised, meaning it with every fiber of his being.

Two months later, they released the bird back into the garden, watching it soar away on strong, healed wings. Y/N had cried a little, sad to see it go but happy that it was free. Theo had put his arm around her shoulders and promised they'd done the right thing.

He'd never told her that watching things fly away was sometimes the hardest part of loving them.

Φ

Theo's flat was dark when he finally apparated home, the silence pressing against him like a physical weight. He poured himself another drink and stood at his living room window, looking out at the London skyline, remembering.

There had been so many moments over the years when he'd almost told her. Moments when the words had been right there on his tongue, when the way she looked at him made him think maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way.

The night before their seventh year at Hogwarts, when they'd sat in the Malfoy Manor garden talking about the future and she'd said she couldn't imagine her life without him in it. The morning after the Battle of Hogwarts, when she'd found him in the infirmary and cried with relief that he'd survived. The day she had graduated from her Healer program in New York, when she'd hugged him so tightly he could barely breathe and whispered that she couldn't have done it without him.

But there had always been something holding him back. The war, his father's crimes, his own reputation as someone who couldn't be trusted with anything important. Y/N deserved better than the son of a Death Eater, better than someone whose family name was synonymous with betrayal and cruelty.

And now it was too late.

Theo closed his eyes and tried to imagine the next six weeks. The dress fittings and cake tastings, the bachelor and bachelorette parties, the rehearsal dinner where he'd have to give a speech about how perfect Y/N and Charlie were together. The wedding itself, where he'd stand beside her in front of all their friends and family and watch her become Mrs. Weasley.

And after that... after that, she'd be gone. Off to Romania to start her new life, and he'd be left behind with nothing but memories and the crushing weight of everything he'd never said.

His owl arrived with a letter from Y/N.

Thank you for dinner tonight. And thank you for saying yes to being my man of honor. I love you, Theo. You're the best friend a girl could ask for.

Theo stared at the parchment for a long time, his thumb hovering over her neat handwriting. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many words he'd kept locked inside for years. But in the end, he wrote back what he always did.

Love you too. Always here for you.

He hit send and poured himself another drink, wondering how many more times he'd have to say those words while meaning something entirely different.

Outside his window, London sparkled in the darkness, beautiful and distant and cold. Somewhere out there, Y/N was probably writing to their other friends to share her happy news, planning the wedding that would take her away from him forever.

And Theo was already planning how to survive it.