#and the animations for the opening were so so fluid and pretty

[oneguardian15]

holy smokes, 1074 was flipping insaneeeee

i’m amazed, flabbergasted, emotional, in love!

the animations were GORGEOUS for the main part of the battle (and luffy is stunning as usual 🥰) it was so fast i’m gonna have to rewatch it like 50 times to try and see everything clearly, like wow. but it was SO. COOL

[etheries1015]

He walks in on you touching yourself... (18+ Minors DNI)

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader. Can be read as established or non-established relationship, completely up to whatever your cup of tea is... (Reader for Azul and the tweels is pretty confident and daring. be warned.) Also not proof read.

TW: Touching himself while watching you masturbate, 'unbeknownst' to you. Being caught, mentions of heat.

Featuring: Lilia (separate) , Azul (separate), and the tweels (together...might be OOC. I don't write for them often wahhhh)

Lilia

It was obvious by the sounds of wetness and low whines ringing through the hall what was conspiring in your bedroom. Lilia had dropped by simply to play some games or to say hello, but was pleasantly greeted by the glorious sight before him after making his way down the hall towards your sleeping chambers. With the door cracked slightly, the red-eyed fae had clear few of your naked body sprawled on your bed, hands working at your groin with such vigor and excitement. Fluids ran down your thighs and a layer of sweat clearly coating your flushed body, telling him you have been at this for quite some time. With a raised eyebrow and a smirk quirking on the side of his lips, he could feel his erection pressing against the cloth of his pants practically begging to be freed.

He had little shame when it came to things of pleasure, he himself thoroughly enjoyed indulging in such activities when time permitted. It's a normal part of life, and although he felt mildly guilty for thinking such things when you were touching yourself unaware of his gaze...all reason left his mind the moment your lips uttered his name in a moan that would have been barely audible for a normal human to hear. His eyes open in surprise with his smirk turning into a dark grin, fangs poking out as he bit his lip and began to slowly unzip his trousers.

Freeing himself from his confines, he watched your fingers eagerly working themselves in your hole and the other teasing the outer parts of your body. He thought to himself how much he wanted to be inside you as his cock twitched, yet also wondering how he could just stand there and watch you get off, knowing it was his image in your mind while you so eagerly found your release. Would he ruin the mood if he opened the door and presented himself at that moment? Would you be embarrassed and no longer in the mood? He slowly began using a hand to pump his cock while he watched you through the crack of the door, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips and lustful eyes watching earnestly as you switch positions. You were so...thorough in the way you touched yourself, Lilia almost found himself envious at your own hands stroking attentively to your sensitive spots rather than him.

The second time you moaned his name, he broke in his resolve of keeping his endeavor behind your door a secret falter rather quickly. Removing his hand from his throbbing and flushed cock and lazily slipping his boxers back over his erection, Lilia allowed his presence to be heard as he creaked the door open. Hearing your movements stop suddenly and a small (and rather adorable) gasp escape your lips, the fae watched as you were quick to cover up with the sheets and face flushed a deep scarlet that only enhanced his desire to ruin you further.

"Now now~" Lilia purred, "You were so vocal before, moaning my name like an animal in heat..." He crawled onto the bed, leaning towards you as your gaze so obviously flickered from his piercing eyes to the tent in his boxers, taking note of his unzipped pants and wet spot that soaked through the cloth. His hand quickly grabbed your cheeks and lifted your gaze to his, lips crashing against yours.

"How about you moan for me again, my precious bat? Hmm? I wonder just how loud I could get you the mewl when rather than your fingers, it's my cock buried deep inside you..."

Azul

Azul had noticed something was awry when you weren't there to greet him immediately at the entrance of Ramshackle. The door had been unlocked, almost as if inviting him right in without a worry in the world. He often scolded you for such acts, being rather wary of intruders himself and understanding your disposition of being the sole human in the dorm, he was certain to give you a lecture as he often had.

Walking deeper into the dorm attempting to find you, he could smell something sweet and alluring, something that slowly yet almost simultaneously left his cheeks flushing a slight tint of pink and skin moist with heat at the touch. It was almost a sickening sweet smell- something that he was familiar with only by the definitions of the textbooks.

Heat. Someone was in heat, he could feel it affecting him as such. He took a gulp as his instincts left him wandering mindlessly to the source, hearing the feeble pants of a familiar voice and the sound of wet and sticky skin filling the air as he came closer to the source of the sickeningly sweet scent. Azul began trembling as if he were entering some sort of forbidden den in which he should not be entering. He noticed at the end of the hall a door open, wider than one may think should be. Curious and trembling with anticipation, the merman peaked his head through the rather wide crack of the door, stumbling upon a rather...interesting scene.

He couldn't help but let out an audible gasp, eyes widening before slapping a hand over his mouth and looking away. He pressed his back against the wall, looking down at the clear erection that poked at the cloth of his dress pants. It hurt almost, enough that Azul found himself almost unable to move with the itching need to unzip his pants and release himself of this burning sensation immediately. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see what he had just witnessed...the beloved prefect, someone who was well respected and known around the campus, legs wide on top of the blankets for anyone to see as your fingers buried deep inside your hole with your other hand twisting your hardened nipple. Your hair was a sweaty tangled mess, mouth open lips glistening with drool and lust.

Azul was not used to such erotic behaviors being so close and in eyeshot of him, much less affecting him the way you seemed to be. He couldn't help but guiltily open his eyes and glance again, watching through the cracked door and rubbing his legs uncomfortably. He let out a deep sigh as his hands moved with a mind of their own, dipping the inside of his pants and boxers in an attempt to stroke himself for some sort of release of the discomfort his hardened cock had caused. He watched you with his mouth ajar, his heart pounding so loud he almost feared you would hear it. Your moans began to become louder, almost as if...on purpose. Azul continued to rub his shaft with hesitant and trembling hands, before a moment passed and it seemed...like you two had made eye contact.

It was almost a split second, where he felt as if your gaze had locked onto his through the door. Yet you turned your attention back to your naked body, a sly smile crawling onto your lips. That split second cause his heart to drop straight into the pit of his stomach with guilt, yet at the same time such risk left his body trembling as he used one hand to muffle a high pitched whine that escaped his lips as he shamefully finished in his pants almost as quickly as he had begun. With legs that were shaking and a heart beating so rapid he felt it would pop out of his chest at any second, the merman pursed his lips and wiped his brow, finally finding the courage to use his legs to make a hasty exit...you were quick to interrupt his escape.

"Awwee...did you cum already, Azul?" He froze as you called his name, Azul letting out a yelp of surprise and hung his head low in almost shame.

"No need to be shy," You called out, "Come here. Let your prefect take care of our pretty little octopus..."

Jade + Floyd

You were a brazen soul, something that both Jade and Floyd would admire. Often times your brave endeavors left them astonished and intrigued all the same. The three of you were doing your weekly movie night, but the two could already tell something was different in your actions. The way you would rub your legs together and the sweet scent wafting off of your figure left the two side-eyeing each other with knowing intent. The movie was the last thing on your mind, for under the sheets the warmth that was leaving your bottom half aching with desire left your hands wandering beneath the blankets almost unable to hold back your urges.

"Are you alright?" Jade inquired, watching your focused face flush as you looked up at him with surprise at the question. He looked down at you almost knowingly, his typical smile leaving you unaware of the thoughts that were behind those eyes. You gave him a slight smile and a nod of your head, burying yourself deeper in the sheets and halting your hands from going beneath the cloth of your pants like you so desperately wanted to. A few moments of the movie going on, and you were vividly aware of where each of the twins were on both sides of you.

Floyd was brazenly wrapping an arm from behind your shoulders, while Jade sat with one of your legs intertwining with yours beneath the blanket. You found yourself throbbing more intensely below the pile of warm blankets, the heat becoming far more unbearable as your hands began to snake underneath the blankets and into your pants with no self-control and little regard for the two attractive men who were accompanying you. You pursed your lips and inched your fingers toward your groin, a needy sigh escaping your trembling lips as you began to slowly gratify yourself careful not to be loud or obvious. You couldn't help it, you were so desperately seeking release, and patience wasn't always one of your strong suits.

This went on for a mere minute before a hand landed on top of yours through the mountain of cloth that separated your skin from his hand, Jades face peering closer to yours with eyes glinting with mischief as his nose pressed against yours. "You're rather distracted," Jade hummed, eyes closing as he disregarded the movie that was still playing, "If I remove these blankets, what do you think we will see? Hmm? Something naughty?" you gave a shy nod in response, almost as if testing them to see if their blatant words would become materialized in something more. He glanced up to his brother, Floyd who had a wide toothy grin and a tilt of his head. He moved forward to take a whiff of you, his own cheeks becoming flushed a deep scarlet color while pulling you closer to his side.

"little Shrimpy is in heeatt..." Floyd sang, "I didn't know humans can get that, too. But it's sweet, real sweet," He purred. Jade moved away from you, inching the blanket off of your body to reveal yourself with legs held together and hands taken away from pleasuring your sensitive spot. At the same time, You could hear the unzipping of pants as they both released themselves from their pants, you watched in excitement and lustful eyes as the eels began doing as you had done, shamelessly and brazenly touching themselves with little regard for the place and company they were in. The twins encouraged you by each using a hand to grab a knee and spread your legs open, showing your arousal as your own hands twitched with anticipation and neediness. Shy at the whole endeavor, you found yourself hesitating despite their eagerness.

"Don't get shy now," Jade said, beginning to stroke himself and urging you to do the same.

"Yeah, You started this," Floyd pointed out, "let's have fun together...isn't that the whole point?"

"You must be trying so hard to hold back, aren't you? Let it all go...you're good at surprising us, and were so desperate a mere moment ago.... So go on, give us a show."

[spiritsdiary]

— PRAISE with QIMIR/THE STRANGER

wc: 786 | content: p in v smut, i was again reasonably tipsy while writing this

❛❛good.” he breathes the word into the skin of your shoulder, watching intently as you work.

you wonder if he does it on purpose; if he’s feigning complete obliviousness to how suggestive he sounds. like right now— saying good like that when all you’ve done is properly mix a poison the way he taught you. maybe it’s because you’re a quick study when your reward is him.

when you first met qimir, you thought he was just like every other apothecary owner you utilized when necessary: clumsy, generally oblivious, a drunk who saw nothing wrong with being intoxicated before noon. to your defense, he played the part very well. it was only when you mentioned that you’d be extending your stay for a while and could use some work that you started to see the cracks in his facade.

spending so much time with him gave you a glimpse into his true persona— something darker, yes, but instead of scaring you off, it drew you in. you had a feeling that there was more to him underneath his baggy clothes and perpetually messy hair, but you never thought that all you’d have to do was let him teach you his trade in order to find out what more was.

“good,” he says again now as you insert the stopper into the vial of poison. “that’s perfect.”

you chew on your lip as you think about the last time he said that to you. “anything else you need from me?”

he hums, fiddling with the material of your sleeve at your wrist. “stay while i close up?”

you never understand how he’s able to get you to do what he wants so easily until you’re in bed with him.

his arms are so much more built than you’d imagined, his whole body really, and the first time he used that hidden strength to get you exactly where he wanted you, the words “thank you” genuinely slipped past your lips. you told yourself you were thanking the maker.

you do a lot of thanking the maker these days.

he moves differently in bed than he does in all other aspects of his life. here, he’s fluid, powerful, commanding. and he spares no detail.

“yes, yesyesyes,” he moans out when you sink down on him, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave bruises, slowly beginning to guide you back and forth. “just like this. you know how to do it.”

your hands are gripping his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him while he clutches at your back, and your hips seem to move with a will of their own. you don’t care if it exhausts you. if his pleasure is at your own expense.

“there you go, pretty girl,” he says, voice deep with desire, passion, for you. “let me see how good you are.”

you lean forward and press your lips to his, let him pry you open with his tongue, pull depraved sounds from your mouth. his hips cant up into yours as you do everything he taught you, everything that you know makes him feel good.

it makes you feel good too, knowing you’ve earned every gasp and moan and touch he gives you. he’s a different animal when it’s just the two of you, and you love knowing that you’re the only one that can bring it out of him.

“qimir,” you whine into his mouth, right when he hits that spot inside of you that has you seeing white. “good?”

you need to hear him say it. he needs to tell you.

“so good. so warm, so tight, so beautiful, fuck—” his hand is between your legs, thumb brushing you with practiced ease. “always my good girl.”

“only me?” you can’t think properly, not when it feels this good, this right to be so close to him, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, soul to soul with the way he reads your mind.

he nods, pushes your hair back from your face.

“only ever you.” he says it with such a passionate intensity, his dark eyes searching yours.

it sets you aflame, has you crying out mere moments later, collapsing into him as he gives you everything he has to give.

there’s something darker inside of him. a deep, yearning darkness prowling under his skin, simmering in his bones. you can practically feel it as you slide a hand over his chest, his pounding heart. like it’s calling to you.

“you always do so good for me,” he’s whispering into your hair, letting you press yourself against him. “sometimes i think i dreamt you up.”

you smile, kissing his neck just to make him shiver.

maybe there’s something darker inside of you too.

m.list

© spiritsdiary 2024. do not repost without permission.

[oldermenlvrgrl]

Filthy animal

Logan doesn’t regret much in his life but pushing you away is his biggest mistake.

Logan howlett x human! reader.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: hella angst to cry to, swearing, excessive drinking, loss & grief, his fighting era, dark themes, he’s an alcoholic, stalking, insecurities, depression, anxiety, memories of sex & sexual themes, kissing, talk of breeding/pregnancy, hormones, ovulation, mentioning of self harm, a/b/o themes, he eats raw meat like a feral animal.

A/n: to the one person that wanted me to write this, between when origins end and x-men begins era. He has a bike in this before he goes to the academy idc he’s hot when he’s on a bike

The house is too quiet. The log cabin stood on a mountain top overlooking the vast earthly landscape below. His fingers trace over the wooden bannister of the front door. Feeling every crevice and panel. His mind is numb to the feeling of longing. He doesn’t even know why he did it anymore. The pain in his chest that never yields is too unbearing. He sighs, locking the door and leaving it behind him, like he did with you. Locking away the love he had for you in a cage and leaving it behind.

He goes to the bar, the only place known to give him comfort is at the end of a whiskey bottle. A fat stogy lit between his fingers. The smoke dancing in the air. He doesn’t care that he’s told to not smoke. He nurses the glass, hunched over the bar. Aggression flaring up his face. A hungry dog with food aggression bowed over lapping at liquor. He clenches and opens his hand, feeling the metal under the skin gyrate.

For weeks this is all he has known. Lumber yard (when he shows up), fighting cage, bar and home. It wasn’t even home without you there. You were the only thing that was home to him. Now that you were gone he didn’t have a home.

“Now introducing…the Wolverine!”

Logan gets up staggering along the sea of people. Putting the head of the cigar in the drip of whiskey that resides in his glass. Shedding his flannel and his tank to his bare chest. His veins pulsing and his vision impaired. They open the fenced gate and his head is hung down as he focuses on walking straight. He never planned to win this fight. He didn’t want to. He wanted to get the shit beat out of him so he can feel something other than grief.

The man before him is about seven foot, a mutant with the way his skin is stretched. The bell rings and they size each other up. Walking around the cage. They don’t speak and he prefers it to be that way. He raises his fists and cowers his head behind them. The abomination swings and hits him in the side of his head where his ear is. The hit wasn't normal, the hit felt like he got his head run over by a train. He smiles knowing that this beating was exactly what he lusted after.

He staggers up against the side of the cage. The coldness of the metal burns his hot skin. His drunken eyes look at the crowd and he faintly imagines that he sees your silhouette. Another hit to his abdomen. He holds his arm over his stomach and holds onto the fence. He stares out with unsteady eyes to where he sees a mirage of you wearing his dog tags around your neck. Your pretty neck, your pretty hair, your pretty face. His pretty girl. He starts to smile wider, white bloodied teeth. The blood poured behind the crevices in his mouth. Down his chest. Speckling his skin with rogue.

His head rears back as the abomination throws his fist into his nose. Blood starts flowing down his nasal passages. The square part of his chin where it’s shaved is covered in fluid. Another, another, another. He’s surprised he’s not missing teeth as he’s sprawled down on the white plastic floor in a splattered bloody pool. His torso, bruised and battered. He’s laughing. It’s taxing as he feels his broken ribs poke into his lungs. He watches the man parade around him in a victory lap, money starts being handed to and fro. Cradling his ribs as he continues to laugh. He laughs at himself, at how much of a joke he is. How he doesn’t have any restraint or respect for himself. He’s a mockery of who he once was. He looks to the crowd once more to see your face and he doesn’t.

The usher lifts him up and shoves his balled up clothes into his chest. Telling him that he’s banned from the establishment. He’s a joke to the fighting scene and to the bar. Logan isn’t sure if it’s the concussion or the liquor that makes him hear “come back tomorrow.” So he pats the man on his shoulder with a bloodied grin and goes back home.

He drinks himself to sleep that night. If he doesn’t drink, he can’t forget and he’d rather go bankrupt with all the liquor he buys than to remember you. There’s a part of him that desperately latches onto your memory. The bits and pieces that were domestic.

He doesn’t even bother going to the yard. Deep down he knows he’s fired, he couldn’t care. He sits in his big empty wooden cage and just watches the sun change into the moon and stars. Fighting off war flashbacks and memories of you. The only cure is whiskey, and he hadn’t eaten in days. His hunger only grows with each passing day. He can’t eat anything after remembering those home cooked meals you made him.

Nothing suffices. His house was destroyed after he purged it. His couch was torn to shreds, his clothes, and walls. Everything. He didn’t have a television or radio.

So he sits in a leather chair overlooking the mountain in the loose boxers that hang loosely around his hips. His legs spread wide and out, his arms lazily laid over the rests. His bicep only flexes as he sips from the lip of the bottle. A lit cigar he lethargically puffs on occasionally, feeling the burn in his chest simmer down his stomach. The tendons in his neck bulge as his heart rate rises. Fuck, he thought about you.

He thought about the times he’s hurt you.

Once it was deep in his sleep, you cradled against his broad sweaty chest. The sheets scattered in the dark. One of your legs kicked over his torso. His arm around your back, pushing you closer. His body is rigid and tense. His body feverish as he perspires. Sweat drips along his brows and temples.

His face winces as he watches his brother dismember innocent people before him. The hopeless desperate yearning he feels in the pit of his stomach grows. He feels nauseous as his face twists in agony. He shouts and shouts to no avail. The metal between his knuckles, pushing out. He grows anxious.

He feels you shuffle and that’s when he slices your upper arm. Your breath staggers as you jolt awake with fearful eyes, he’ll never forget you pulling away from him. He stands from the bed, watching you with horror, stricken across his pale face. He watches your feeble hand touch the blood that welts from the wound. The sheets draped over your torso as you stood and walked to him. He doesn’t look into your remorseful eyes as your soft red painted hand comes to touch the hair on his face. Cradling his jaw in your palm. He doesn’t welcome your warmth, he doesn’t deserve it. As your touch lingers, his claws retract.

“It’s just a scratch.”

You whisper softly. He doesn’t listen.

“It’s just a scratch.”

He mutters to himself as he takes another drink from the bottle. It wasn’t just a scratch, not to him. That single cut meant that he couldn’t even protect you from himself. How was he supposed to protect you if he contributed to your harm? He thinks of another memory.

He was close. His abdomen tightening and his balls drawn tight. He feels your walls constrict around the thickness of his cock. Pulling and tugging with each bounce of your hips. His head thrown back into the pillows as he grits his teeth together, thick eyebrows furrowed as he concentrates on feeling your wet slick coating his wide thighs. The smell is brutalizing him. The smell of your cunt weeping for him.

He peeks and watches your breasts bounce and your nails dig into his hairy chest. The hair on his lower stomach glistening with your slick. He bucks his hips up into your core, hitting that spot deep inside your womb. He feels your heated breath on his neck. Your nipples brushing against his own as you lay on top of him, the metal of his dog tags pressed between each of your chests.

Allowing him to bury himself inside you. His strong hands hold your hips in place, your legs widening to let his aggression grow. He pours everything he has into breeding you. His heart hammers against his chest as he hears your whimpers. The silent cry of yours to breed you full of his pups.

He growls deep in the back of his throat. Jackhammering his thrusts, the filthy sound of your squelching cunt is music to him. The sweet smell of your ovulation makes him drunker than any whiskey. He can’t control himself anymore. He ruts and ruts against your puffy pussy as you squeal for him to slow so you can breathe. He doesn’t and continues to pound into your pelvis, rocking your entire body against his. It’s painful how hard and fast he’s pulling you down. His legs half bent as he pulls your ass down to touch his thighs with every thrust. He growls as he pushes all the way inside and releases his seed into your weeping cunt.

The pain from his bleeding knuckles is excruciating but not as much as the quiet squeak from your little mouth. He pulls his head up and sees the little slits he made on your thighs. He lays his head against the pillows with a long sigh. Knowing that he couldn’t bear hurting you anymore. He couldn’t have you baring his pups and risk hurting you.

He couldn’t even get hard anymore without you. He couldn’t smell your hormones, couldn’t smell how desperate you wanted him. It wasn’t the same without you. He drinks. The cigar burns the inside of his index and middle, he doesn’t care. He lets it scorch his tanned skin. If it burnt the entire cabin he wouldn’t care either. He remembers the night he ended it with you.

He was drunk to the point where he was a vegetable on his leather couch. Shirtless and only in his dirtied torn blue jeans. He waited until you got home after work. He made up his mind a couple days ago and he didn’t have the courage to do it sober minded so he drank himself to it. He smelled you before he watched as the door knob wobbled and you stepped forward. He hated how beautiful you looked and his stomach twisted. You had groceries and a pretty smile on your face. It turned into a frown as you saw him with the bottle.

You asked him if something happened at the yard and he said no. You took the groceries into the kitchen after kicking the door closed with your foot. You started taking the groceries out and putting them into the cupboards. The raw meat you had to get from the local farmers was bloody as you put it in the fridge. You turned to get another item and were met with his glossy eyes. His mouth turned into a snarl. His eyes glanced over your confusion and his heart weakened. He desperately wanted to comfort you, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t in his nature to. His chest heaved as he looked at the inscribed dog tags around your neck.

“I want you out of my house.”

His words were heavily slurred, but he knew you understood them as your brows pinched together and you stopped looking for things to put up.

“What?”

It was weak and it killed him. He stared at the wooden floor, taking another swig. He raised a thick eyebrow and looked down the curve of his nose at you with blurry hazel eyes.

“You heard me.”

You shook your head and placed your hands on the counter, trying to ground yourself. Your world was falling apart in front of you.

“You’re drunk.”

You say meekly, barely above a whisper. He doesn’t reply. That was true, but the saying drunken words are sober thoughts still apply. A wave of emotion hits you, and your eyes water. You sniffle and turn to him. Your Logan wasn’t there. His eyes were glossed over and he was a shell.

“You don't mean that.”

He watches your bottom lip wobble and tears fall down your face. His heart drops and he drinks. His lips polished over with alcohol. The tension is thick and restricting.

“What happened to our future together? Where you wanted me to be your wife and to have your kids?”

You look down at your feet as you cry.

“When you said you’d never leave and that I’d always be your girl?”

He doesn’t speak and resentment grows in your heart.

“Is there another girl?!”

He doesn’t know why but you insinuating that he’d be able to love another woman than you angers him. His snarl grows and he shakes his head.

“Answer me!”

You push his chest and he stumbles back. That enrages him, his claws push out. He puts the bottle on the counter and pins your hands together and pushes your hips against the wood. You try to move and get his grip to loosen but it doesn’t. He pins you with your hands together behind your back and his body pushed against yours. His hands pulled into fists as he attempted to control his anger. He smells like liquor and his musk. He smells your fear and sees the same sorrow he feels.

“No. There’s never been and never will be. If you come back to my house and if I ever see you again..”

He trails off and looks to the bottle of booze, not wanting to admit it but deep in his heart he knows it’s for the best.

“I’ll kill you.”

You frown and choke out a sob as he lets you go. He stands in the middle of the kitchen with his head downturned. He hears you weep as you gather your things. Dreading the sounds of hearing the wheels of your suitcase trail down the wood. He hears the door open.

“You don’t mean that.”

He listens to the door close and the scent of you leave. Fury rages through him as he destroys everything around him, it doesn’t matter if it’s handmade or expensive he ruins it. He destroys his entire house trying to defile the thought of you. Destroying everything you’ve touched or reminded him of you. He wanted to destroy himself.

He decided later that night he had to see you. Had to breathe in your smell and that’ll fix him, put his mind on track. He was still scared as hell to hurt you, but the agony of being without you is greater than the risk of hurting you. Logan was selfish and all he wanted was you.

He sat outside the building where you worked on his bike and waited. Perched like a predator waiting for prey. He was surprised that he was steady enough to even get there unscathed. He sat on the side of the road, not in the parking lot. The engine turned off and he listened to the birds chirp. He made sure to not let you see him. Digging into his pocket he takes the fat cigar out and places it between his lips. Taking the lighter and cupping his hands around the flame as he puffs it to life. The embers burn and the smoke swirls around his head. The evening slowly dying into night.

Raising his nose to the air and sniffing as he smells your hormones. Your car pulls out of the lot shortly after and passes him. He sees the side of your face through the window and his heart burns. Your face is puffy and gloomy, completely contrasting the sunshine you exude.

Chewing on the end of the cigar, he starts the motorcycle and turns behind you. A good couple cars between him and you to separate the distance. He follows you down the familiar path down to your parents house. The long pine trees and barren fields full of crops. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he’s doing or what he’s going to do. All he knows is that he needs to see you, something primal deep inside him tells him that.

He pulls into an open field, overlooking the farm house. Staring with foggy eyes as you pull in. Gazing at your car door as it opens and you step out. He leans forward to fully look at you as much as he can from the distance. Whistling low at the pretty sight. Then as if you were never there you leave his sight and enter the house. He sighs, leaning back on his bike. Looking to the sky he determines that night shouldn’t take no longer than an hour. He waits.

He waits with a cigar between his plush lips. His hands flexing on top of his thighs. Clenching and opening, enticing the burn of his knuckles spreading open. Observing with eager eyes as each light in every window turns dark, except yours. A wishful smile spreads on his face. Knowing the next thing you’re about to do before going to bed is cracking your window open, and without fail he sees your little hands opening the pane. His heart soars as he’s proud that you’re still his girl. Still, having the same habits and quirks he’s grown to admire.

With that, he takes the cigar from his lips and pushes the end into the palm of his hand. Snuffing the smoke and flicking it into the field. He swings one of his long legs over the bike and starts his trail down to your window.

Begrudgingly, he comes to terms with having to climb up the side of your family's house to your room. The ivy woven into the side provides a grip for his climb. The poor gutter he tried to climb groaned and cried as the hinges unscrewed from the roof as he tried to pull his body weight up it, so the ivy would just have to be adequate. As he climbs, your scent grows stronger and his head starts to get fuzzy. The toes of his boots stuck between some panels. The broad pads of his fingers stuck on the window sill.

Propping his head up, he watches you lay on your bed watching television. Some movie played that you weren’t too keen on paying attention to. If you looked over you’d be able to see his wild hazel eyes and his tufts of hair poking far above his head.

You move to lay on your other side and he wishes to see your pretty face again. Without fail and as overplayed as it is, you truly were a sight for sore eyes. He listens eagerly to your mother’s voice beckoning you to dinner. Like the good sweet girl you are, you obey. Getting up from your bed and walking over to your door. A hand outstretched and touching the knob, but hesitantly, you pause. Logan’s heart drops and the hair on the back of his neck perks up. Can you see him? Your beautiful eyes wander over to the window screen and he ducks his head. Almost losing his grip and falling into the grass below. Your mother yells your name again and he doesn’t pull his head back up until he hears the door close.

He takes one of his hands and summons the metal between his knuckles to grow out. Cutting open the side of the window screen, he pulls it to the side. Hoisting himself up and over into the other side of the window ungracefully.

He’s not as nimble as he once was. He falls on his hands and knees with a loud thud, similar to a cat. He stills, anxiety rushing to his face as he listens for a reaction. Only hearing the chatter of common conversation between your parents and you, he stands. Reality hits him with a rush of adrenaline. He’s in your room. What the fuck is he doing? Guilt crawls up his spine and he flicks his head, ridding the fear. He needs this. His fingers trail over various objects in your room. Wooden dresser, mattress, vanity. His slow saunter stops as he looks at your vanity closer, his dog tags nestled with a Polaroid tucked under the chain.

The weekend your parents took you both camping. He was supposed to propose to you on that trip but got cold feet.

You’re sitting in a little dress on one of his spread thighs in a lawn chair. The neck of a beer bottle was between his fingers over the side of the arm rest. You’re wrapped behind one of his big burly arms. The veins and muscle in his bicep flexed. Caging you to his strong chest as he holds you close. He’s only wearing his white sweat and oil stained tank. He just got done working on the bike, trying to figure out why it’s making a funny noise and arguing with your father about something. It’s evening time and the sun is shining between the maple trees. Everyone waited eagerly as your father grilled dinner. Your cheeks are rosy with a big precious smile as his face is shoved in your neck, pressing kisses into the tender area making you giggle. Your mother took that picture.

He swallows thickly as he sits with that feeling deep in his chest. Logan knows what he did was wrong and he feels like a reformed prisoner in his own mind. The duality is that he is also the police officer always beating him with a bat, constantly repeating the same behavior that has caused him to get in the prison. He loves to self sabotage and he fears that this fatal mistake was the end of it all. All he was and ever will be is an animal.

A strong aroma hits him all at once, he lifts his face and sniffs the air. Oh, god. It’s your clothes. Your smell is on all of them and it's surrounding him. Suffocating him. Something spurs him to start opening drawers. He pulls out various clothing, shirts, and jeans are too faint.

Pulling out another drawer, he goes to his knees. Panties. He grabs a handful, one of them being a devious pair of white cotton that has your name embroidered on the top and shoves them into his leather pocket of his jacket, closing the drawer. Stealing one of your dainty shirts that had your scent on it the strongest and holding that to his chest. He holds it to his nose and takes a long breath in, holding the smell deep in his chest. He almost moans as he exhales. He feels the front of his jeans tightening and his metal belt buckle poking his abdomen. He groans and adjusts the crotch of his jeans, trying to ease the discomfort, but it only makes his fervor grow.

He stares at himself long and carefully in your vanity mirror. An animal is all he sees, stealing your clothes because he can’t bear not breathing your scent. A pervert even. He smiles at the names, pride swelling in his chest. The pride is shot with a steady arrow as he hears a set of footsteps coming up the hall. Looking frantically for somewhere to hide, he figures your closet would be as best as he’s going to get. He makes sure that everything was in place as he first saw it and barricades himself inside your wardrobe.

This great and powerful Wolverine had fought in many wars and witnessed things that not even the most seasoned veteran can survive. Yet, he’s scared of the judgment of a woman he’s in love with. He’s sweating bullets, fat dwallops of sweat rolls down his hairline and neck.

Through the slits in your door he watches eagerly as the towel wrapped around the bust of your breasts falls. His breath stutters and he balls the shirt up and presses it against his mouth to stifle his hurried breaths. His almost green eyes roll back in his head, watching your bare breasts contort along with your body as you bend over to find clothes in your dresser. The smell is unbearable, the fresh scent of your dewy skin. The warmth of the water falling into every hidden crevice that only he can see.

His stomach growls. His starvation is growing worse. He palms his hard length. Raising your arms you put on one of his old hockey jerseys he gave you. He groans and his head thumps against the back wall. He can’t bear it. What if he jumped out and ravaged you? Would you be upset? He’d never forgive himself for it, but the need for release is far too much for him to withstand. You’re just a little woman, he couldn’t do that to you. Defile his sweet girl and breed her, only in his thoughts he entertains the thought. Stepping into some of his old boxers too. He’s been wondering where those had gone. Maybe he and his girl weren't too far off. Cut from the same perverted cloth.

You crawl into your bed with a deep sigh. Cuddling up with some childhood teddy bear. He watches your heavenly face twist as you cry into the fur of the bear. His heart breaks. He’s defeated, he hates to see you cry and it’s even worse when he can actually feel the sorrow fill his heart. He stands there for what seems to be an eternity watching you break down into a helpless little girl. Broken and distraught. In that moment he knows that you’d never love him the same.

He waits until your puffy eyes close and the soft snore falls from your parted lips to leave your closet. Closing the door behind him, he stands before your sleeping beauty. Admiring your face from afar. Logan is a hated man and he’s never cared, but he cares all too much that you do. He goes to his knees, quietly. Tucking your shirt into the waistband of his jeans. He tucks a fallen strand of hair behind your ear and kisses your nose gently. As gently as an animal like him could. Pulling up your blanket under your chin.

“I’m sorry.”

He whispers. He stands to his feet again, marveling at the memories he’s had with such a dream of a woman in the glow of the moon. Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the wiggle of the door knob and your mothers breath of your name. He twists his body and jumps out of the window. Again, he lands on his feet and he runs. He runs on all fours. Dirt getting under his fists as the claws give him leverage to run faster.

Your mother places a gentle hand on your shoulder as she sits by your feet. Blinking your eyes open, you look at her with blurry vision.

“Logan?”

He’s panting and his eyes are wild as he flies down the road on his bike. Feeling as if he just robbed a bank. He’s a wanted man. You know that he was there. You had to. The deep pit in his stomach is too expensive for you to not have.

As soon as he’s up the mountain and parks haphazardly in front of the cabin, he’s stripping off his clothes. He’s burning alive. He’s left only in his tattered jeans. His stomach twists and turns and before he knows it, he’s pulling out every single meat he has in his fridge and tearing it open. He feasts like a wild animal. Tearing the plastic open and the blood dripping down onto him. His chest and jaw slathered in dead animals. Pork, poultry, cow it’s everywhere. He doesn’t care if it’s not cooked, his hunger is far greater than his rationality. He doesn’t even breathe as he devours. His hands were coated in blood like he murdered someone.

When he finishes he stares at his destruction. Only bones were left in various places. His torso was even coated in red. He groans, chewing the fat of some animal and swallowing with a gulp. He finds whatever beer he has in the fridge and pops the lid off with his claw. Taking a prolonged gradual swig. Your shirt, surprisingly, still hung sloppily and pure under his belt.

He roams to his trophy case, full of all his war memorabilia and opens the door. Taking the wooden case full of cigars out and putting one between his bloodied lips. He sets the bottle beside the case and lights the cigar. It’s almost as good as an orgasm. For the first time he feels full. His needs were almost completely met. The only thing missing was you. He walks sluggishly to his open front door, leaning his shoulder against the frame. Switching between smoking and drinking as he listens to the night's ambiance. Listening to the wild animals howl.

Just a game of hide and seek was all it was. It was Fall. The leaves were scattered like a carpet on the floor of the woods. It was a random day where both of you were off and rather going into town, he thought it’d be fun to teach you how to fish. After multiple failed attempts of you becoming bored, he decided to play a game with you.

The game was completely rigged. Who would’ve thought the man with insane primal senses would be great at finding things that didn’t want to be found. The adrenaline was catching up to you both as you sought after him. The widespread woods were winding and confusing, but you were determined to find the animal. The cold nipped at your face as you kept your perseverance. Suddenly, you stopped. Realizing that instead of you finding him, and him staying hidden he reversed the game and was trailing you. A peculiar feeling arose, the thought of him following you without you even knowing coiled your stomach.

All of your theories were proven right as his big arms wrap around your torso and pulls you down into the leaves. He laughs heartily against your neck as you push up, straddling his waist. You hit his chest softly.

“You filthy animal I was supposed to be hunting you!”

He shakes his head with a small smile, squeezing your hips as he stares up at you with childish eyes.

“Maybe you’re just not that good of a hunter.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open.

“Hey!”

You hit his chest again, and he sits up. Kissing your nose.

“It’s okay, lil’ bunny.”

It sincerely unnerves him how unobservant you were. How oblivious you were to the world, but that same reason is why he loves you. He loves that you’re different, even if you were human you understood what it felt like to be a mutant. He flicks the end of the cigar down into the asphalt and closes the front door. The blood on his body is dried and caked on him. Stripping the rest of his clothes in the hall as he goes to the bathroom. His house is still trashed and he doesn’t care to clean it until his life is put on track again. Until you’re in his life again.

He turns on the faucet and lets the water warm. Looking at himself in the mirror while he waits. He looks righteously like an animal. His hair wild on his head, the blood goes from his mouth down to the v-line of his hips. It’s brutal and chaotic. He wonders if this is what life is going to be like for him for the rest of eternity. Nature made him a freak, man had made him a weapon, and god is making it last too long. The water blurs the mirror and he no longer sees himself in the reflection. He steps inside the scalding hot water and his thoughts don’t slow.

All he’s thought about is you, all he can think about is you. You’re the last thing that’s keeping his humanity. Without you he turns into this beast of regret. He watches the blood pool around his feet. The blood mixed down his chest and face and down the drain. He wishes to drown but knows he can’t. He wishes to die but that’s too humanly for him for it to be possible. Maybe even love was too human for him to obtain. He thinks about calling you and then it passes. He thinks about his mother for a minute and that passes. Every wave of emotion, feeling and thought passes through him as he cleanses his body. He stays in that sauna of a shower for an hour.

When he gets out he pats his skin dry from one of the towels you bought out of the cupboard and ties it around his waist. Pushing his wet hair back it slicks back and stays. He knows he’ll wake to the two tufts being straightened on his head in the morning, he doesn’t bother. Bending down, he picks your shirt up off of the hallway floor and holds it to his nose. Closing his eyes and breathing in your intoxicating bodily perfume. He can already smell it fading. It’s damp from the water still clinging onto his chest. He sits down on the leather couch that he’s shredded. Contemplating if he should call, it’s late and he knows you have work in the morning. He shouldn’t bother.

The smell of you gives him motivation. What if? What if she does misses me and wants me as much as I want her. That’s blasphemy, he thinks. Yet, he ponders it seriously. He breathes in your shirt once more and finds the phone he’s thrown against the wall a couple weeks before. He dials your number apprehensively. His nerves shot to hell as he holds the phone to his ear. The buzzing and monotone hum of service sends his perturbation to his chest. His stomach clenched tight with bated breath. He hopes that you don’t answer, but his soul wants you to. He almost thinks about hanging up and it continues to ring. What is he even going to say? He doesn’t know. He never knows. His eyes widen and he doesn’t breathe as he hears your sleepy voice.

“Hello?”

You whisper into the phone and he doesn’t say anything. He’s internally panicking, on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“Hello?”

You whisper again and he doesn’t speak, his head is in a frenzy and his hand is shaking.

“Logan?”

When you say his name he drops the phone. Trepidation strikes him. He hadn’t heard you say his name for weeks and the sleepy softness of your voice sparked something in him. He’s scared of that feeling, petrified even. Logan Howlett’s only fear is love.

He fell asleep with your shirt cradled tight into his chest. The morning’s sun is the only thing that awoke him. He didn’t fall asleep that night until dawn. He was too paranoid and scared to fall asleep, the anxiety of possibilities kept running through him. He sighed and the feeling he felt was worse than any hangover. He knew he was broke in every way possible, he didn’t have any money, he didn’t have anything. He didn’t even have you. He groaned and cursed himself as he saw last nights doing in his kitchen. He honestly doesn’t remember anything after what occurred at your house. He didn’t have any food left nor any liquor. He had to do one of the things he hated the most, grocery shopping.

His strong anxiety was almost numbing to him now. He’s felt so high strung the past few weeks that he’s used to it. He strolled through the store with a shopping cart that had one of its wheels broken and he almost thought god did it purposefully to mock him. He wandered helplessly through the aisles, grabbing miscellaneous food. Knowing most of it wasn’t going to even last him the rest of the week, but he needed something to get by.

Most of his cart was filled with strong liquor. He wanted to forget you and move on, and maybe finally kick the bucket with alcohol poisoning. He’s reaching into the fridge to grab another case of beer when he feels a soft tap on his shoulder. His stomach drops. It couldn’t be. He stands and looks over his shoulder and sure as shit, there you are.

You have a little smile on your face and your cheeks are dusted red by embarrassment. Looking to your feet, you see a pair of cotton panties peeking out of his jacket pocket. Your cheeks grow a darker red as you see that your name is embroidered on the top.

“I- uh, I-,”

You shut your mouth tight, cursing yourself for the hurried stutter and if he wasn’t so nervous himself he’d think you being flustered was cute. You look up at him through your lashes. He takes notice of the flint of his dog tags around your neck and his heart soars.

“I’m cooking dinner tonight at my parents house and was wondering if you’d like to come,”

You scratch the back of your neck, uneasily. Beaming timidly.

“You don’t have to come of course! And it’s just if you’d like if you’re not busy, I’m cooking steaks and I know you like-“

“What time?”

Your rambling stops and you give him the best kid going to Disneyland look he’s ever seen.

“Six.”

He nods and you smile. The trajectory of his life seemed to be on track again. This was the right timeline.

“I’ll be there at five.”

You smile wider.

“Thanks, Logan.”

He gives you a small smile and nod of his head in response. You start to turn to leave before turning back, looking both ways before you whisper to him.

“If you wanted a pair of my panties, you could’ve just asked.”

You give his cheek a quick kiss and walk away with a bounce in your step. Leaving him blushing and blinking at the case of beer in his hand, trying to figure out what actually just happened. Those small moments that are just so humanly indescribable makes him feel much less like a filthy animal.

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING MEMORABLE !!! LEWIS H. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: it’s easy to celebrate something with someone you love — it’s even better if you’ve got something to remember that day with.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), pwp, use of explicit language, blurb, we don’t proofread we rawdog our writing for best content, protected sex (FINALLY!!! SOMEONE WHO USED PROTECTION IN MY FIC), spitting, sex tape/consensual recording, aftercare, established relationship

note: didn’t mean to moan that loud my b. enjoy xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

💌re:moony’s planner is opened!!!

the squelching of her cunt and her vocal moans, alongside his grunts, were echoing inside this pricey hotel suite — and lewis paid well just so they could get the privacy that they sought and deserved after this gruelling racing season. 

everyone, the staff and their mothers, looked the other direction whenever she and lewis got out of their suite every morning after an endless night of rough and passionate sex. 

no one asked questions— instead they would only nod and greet the couple politely as they walked past before looking at each other in disbelief— not believing that these two just fucked like animals hours before and pretended that nothing happened. 

now here she was. her back arched as she laid flat on her stomach, her legs squirming while his thick cock hammered into her cunt. his hips rutting against hers from behind as he grunted aloud, praising her endlessly before tugging her hair up to point at the direction of the camera in front of the two of them. 

“look at you, baby,” the seven time world champion spoke breathlessly, fucking her as his hand snaked up to her chin and squished her face lightly. “y’look so pretty. ‘specially with my cock inside your pussy— do you see yourself?” 

the red light flashed in front of them, their sweaty faces reflecting in front of them as the camera laid there— recording the lewd sounds of their bodies and fluids squelching against their figures. 

her mewling wasn’t an exception to this— in fact, lewis would be so happy to hear her crying out more than his cock rearranging her insides in the recordings. 

“open your mouth, baby,” lewis demanded quietly, with her obliging as she gasped at his length hitting her sensitive spot. lewis hovered above her and spat in her mouth. she immediately swallowed it and lazily smiled in pleasure, gasping again when he began to pick up his pace and fucked her roughly. 

lewis grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her back closer to his chest, her tits splayed out for the camera as he thrusted his hips up to her spot. 

“lewis, i’m cumming- fuck!” she exclaimed, “yeah! right there— fuuuuck~ i’m cumming.” 

“wanna tell ‘em how fucking good you’re feeling, princess?” he spoke lowly, smirking before his mouth let out a moan— a sign that he was reaching his high. 

“‘m i— fuck— love yo- god, so fuckin’ good~” she mewled, her voice croaking as her legs shook. 

her moans turned into screams, strings of curses escaping both of their mouths as they both reached their high. 

with one last thrust, lewis leaned forward to give her a sweet kiss before pulling out. the recording camera was long abandoned as he discarded his used condom and turned off the camera. 

they felt little to no regret about every single thing they’ve done in this room— feeling like they were the only two people in the world as silence took over and euphoria washed over their system as lewis climbed back up to the bed with a warm damp cloth in hand. 

cleaning her up, he tossed the used towel aside before pulling her close.

“this is such a memorable anniversary,” she murmured, pulling him to a slow kiss as he chuckled. 

“happy tenth anniversary, baby,” lewis replied, his hand trailing down her lower back as he continued, “we sure made this a memorable one huh?”

“mhm,” she replied, her eyes blinking slowly before her breathing began to soften and snores escaped her mouth. 

lewis quietly laughed, cuddling closer to her as he, too, fell asleep.

yeah. those videos would have to wait.

[persephonesdreams21]

NSFW Alphabet with Lee

A/N: I had to write something for him. This is the character that threw me into my Timmy obsession. Ugh Lee, my tragic handsome baby. I need everyone to write more fics for him kay thanks! Also side note- I try to keep my readers a little ambiguous so that everyone can feel included- but Lee and a chubby! Reader just make sense to me.

Warnings: Not safe for work. Smutty. Talks of Switchy/Bottom Lee. Lee x AFAB!Reader.

After Care(what they're like after sex)

Lee is surprisingly gentle after sex. He’ll grab the towel from the hamper in the corner and clean both of you up with it. You were super embarrassed about it the first time he did it but like. It’s something he enjoys doing, a part of his inner routine. He wants you to open your legs and let him wipe you down. Then a lot of the time he wants you to play with his hair. Needy thing.

“Spread em” Lee drawls as he comes back from the bathroom with a wet rag. You’re still loose limbed and fuzzy brained and it takes a minute for you to realize what he’s saying “Seriously, I’ll clean you up”

“You don't have to, it’s fine” Your messy cum wet thighs clamp shut.

He approaches you slowly, like you’re a skittish animal that might bolt. You’re two seconds away from burying yourself under your thick duvet and hiding from him. Lee sits by your feet and reaches for you. His rough fingers run along your smooth calf.

“But I wanna. If you’ll let me”

Body Part(their fave body part of theirs, and of their partners)

Lee’s too skinny, his words not yours. All ribcage and gangly limbs. If he’d have to pick a favorite, he’d say his hands. They’re capable; he’s got long tattooed fingers and calloused palms from hard manual labor. He can build just about anything with them. He can take care of you with them.

Lee loves your thighs and what's between them. They’re so wide, so plush. You complain about cellulite and ingrown hairs and he’s just like? What? They’re perfect. Let me use them as earmuffs. He wants to be cradled by them forever. Loves your belly too any thing he can dig his fingers into.

Cum(anything to do with it)

Lee is into watching both his cum and your own drip out of your puffy pussy after an intense bout of fucking.

It’s almost routine now, like praying before bed. Like watching the sun rise with your morning cup of coffee warming your hands before work.

The sex with Lee is always good. Always surprising. There’s nothing this man won’t do to you, or let you do to him. It’s an adventure with your best friend, one that ends in you both writhing in pleasure.

With him filling you up.

You and Lee hadn’t been together for long, your six month anniversary’s just on the horizon, but if you know anything about this man. It’s that once he got the green light, he doesn’t finish anywhere but inside of you.

And then. Then he wants to see the damage. He wants to peel your thighs apart and stare right at your puffy, swollen cunt. Ah, his poor baby’s pretty pussy. He’s gentle as his bony fingers probe the tender lips. Spreads them-

There’s your hole. The one he’d just pulled out of, all tiny again now that it’s not stretched around his girth.

He watches hypnotized as milky fluid, both his cum and yours, leaks from inside of you. So much that your body just can’t hold it, no matter how hard you try.

You have your routines. Your prayers. He has his. His religion is right here. In between your legs.

Dirty Secret(self explanatory)

Lee loves anal play. On both you and him. This boy wants to be pegged!

“Have you ever done that?” He asks as he sucks on the end of the joint he’d rolled for the two of you. There’s no judgment in his voice, just curiosity.

The topic is anal. And if you’ve ever had it.

“Yeah” you bite in your bottom lip. “It kinda sucked if I’m being real”

You’d had an ex who’d shoved his prick up your ass and made you cry. He hadn’t even taken the time to properly relax or lube you up. It had kind of traumatized you to be honest. You tell Lee all about it, because you tell Lee about everything these days. There’s no secrets between the two of you.

He frowns, thick brows furrowing “nah, it’s not supposed to be like that. That fucker didn’t treat you right, it’s supposed to feel good”

You shrug “If you say so”

“I do. I love the way it feels whenever anyone does it to me” Lee says it so casually, but keeps an eye on you, gauging your reaction.

“Really?”

“Really” it’s factual, punctuated with a little nod “I’d let you try it. If you want. We can like- do me first and then I could show you how anals actually supposed to feel”

Your pulse picks up with excitement. You can feel it in your pussy, and you know the way you squeeze your thighs together to get any kind of friction isn’t discreet.

Lee pretends not to see but his smile is hungry.

“Okay, yes. I want to try”

Experience(how experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

Um. He’s so experienced. With both men and women. Lee’s done alot in his young age. Had to, to survive a lot of the time.

When he realized you didn’t judge him for his past, that's when he really started to feel the emotional attachment form.

“You’re not a bad person for what you’ve done, Lee. Everyone’s done shit they’re not super proud of…it doesn’t take away from who you actually wanna be”

Favorite Position(this goes without saying)

He doesn't really care. But he’s partial to you riding him. He loves feeling pinned underneath you and watching you bounce on top of him.

Goofy(are they more serious in the moment? Are they goofy?

Lee’s a fucking goofball. He’s making you giggle. He’s choking on laughter as you choke on his cock. He can be serious, for sure. But a lot of the time the two of you are very playful with one and other.

Hair(how well groomed they are)

Lee never really cared before you, but he gives himself a courtesy trim now. Still a pretty thick dark bush. You kind of love it. You also do not play about personal hygiene- showers Lee. You’ve got to take them. You know there was a point in his life when he didn’t have access to them. Had to bathe in rivers and McDonald’s bathrooms- but that’s not the case anymore.

He tried to pretend he doesn’t like your expensive skin creams you share with him but you’ve got him hooked.

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

Lee has had a lot of sex with a lot of people, but it’s never felt like this. He's addicted to you. He wants to be close to you, inside of you, like 24/7. He really cant believe he gets to be with you and alot of the time when he’s fucking you he’s just staring at you. In awe.

Jack Off(masturbation headcanon)

Lee’s always got a hand down his pants lol. He loves to masturbate. He loves when you watch him stroke his cock. He wants to watch you play with yourself too. It’s a whole thing.

Kink(one or more of their kinks)

Peg him. Also- mommy kink. Yes. Lowkey might have a thing for breastfeeding/titsucking. He just thinks your’re the most luscious woman he’s ever met…and yeah he does lowkey have mommy issues.

Location(favorite places to do the do?)

After fucking and being fucked on the side of the road or in dirty bathroom stalls, he really just loves having sex in the safety of your apartment. In your big cozy bed or the comfortable couch.

He also likes it when the two of you go camping or stargazing and he can fuck you under the night sky, with only the stars at witnesses.

Motivation(what turns them on? Get’s them going?)

You and that teasing little smile you give him. The one where your canines look like fangs. The one that's usually followed by coy barely there touches and feather light kisses. Yeah. All it takes is a smile.

No(something they wouldn't do? Turns off’s)

He doesn't want to hurt you. He’s hurt so many people before. He can't do anything past mild choking and spanking. He WON'T.

Oral(preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc?)

He loves it. Both giving and receiving. But he just feels so good when hes between your thighs. He’s your pretty boy when he’s sucking on your clit. PLEASE sit on his face.

Pace(are they fast and rough, slow and sensual?)

Lee wasn't used to someone wanting to take their time with him. It almost made him uncomfortable the first time that you slowly ran your hands over his body. Cherishing him. Savoring the closeness to him. Kissing every inch of his skin, not caring about scars or cheap tattoos. It makes him feel flayed alive. He learns to love slow paced, agonizingly tender sex.

Quickie(their opinions on quickies, how often?)

Hell yeah.

Like he gets home from a long day at his shitty grueling job he just wants to quickly fuck your brains out, and then watch one of your shared TV shows before bed.

Or when you’re getting ready for a nice dinner out with your friends, and your makeups done. And your hair is all bouncy and you smell good enough to make his mouth water.

Or in the car before an aquarium date. Lee will take what he can get when ever he can get it when it comes to you.

Risk(are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

Loves taking risks in the bedroom. Honestly once the two of you have built that trust between each other, there’s not much you won’t do. Lee’s a Sub leaning Switch(in my humble opinion) and will literally lay back and let you have your way with him. He doesn’t care. There’s no shame in his sex game.

Stamina(how many rounds can they go? How long can they last?)

He can fuck. Over and over. He’s like a rabbit.

Toys(do they own toys? Will they use them?)

Lee’s game. But then again he’s game for pretty much anything. He likes making you writhe on your vibrator, overstimulating you until you're sobbing. Have you made him wear one of your butt plugs to dinner? Yes you have lol

Trips to Sex Shops are frequent, fun affairs.

Unfair(how much they like to tease)

Lee’s a fucking TEASE. He's just too good at playing the game of cat & mouse.

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

Lee is sooo vocal and you adore it. You’ve never been with a vocal man and he’s such a whiner. He’ll whine and grunt and beg. He’ll dirty talk you to the ends of the earth. He’ll call you Mommy, Pretty Girl, Sweet Heart. Babe. Sexy. It all makes your head spin.

Wild Card(a random headcanon for the character)

Lee wants you to fuck him. Wants you to hold him in your arms and play with his rim. Prostate massages are “awesome babe. Here. Let me show you how to do it”

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

Big thick cock on that twiggy man. A healthy 7 1/2 inches and girthy. The first time you see it your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. You guess its true what they say about skinny tall boys.

Yearning(how high is their sex drive?)

Lee’s a very sexual creature. Like in a primal way. Every interaction can be erotic with him and its honestly a little bit overwhelming to be around.

Zzz(how quickly they fall asleep after)

Lee has his little routine after sex. Cleans the both of you up, half assed sometimes, and then he’s out like a light. No seriously. Lee has been homeless more than a few times in his life(I was exploring. It was by choice! he’d protest when you pointed it out) he’s slept under bridges and in tents and surfed lumpy couches. You and your warm pussy and your lush bed knock him out.

[monstersflashlight]

Day 16. Monster-kinktober: Animal Impulses + Sensory Depravation/Watersports

A/N: Lil twist to the plot, enjoy!

Werewolf x gn!reader || blindfolds, watersports, marking, bondage, pet play, dom/sub (reader!dom), smell-kink (?) || tw: piss

The “animal impulses” of your werewolf boyfriend started almost as a joke. But it turned stupid pretty fast. He insisted on you throwing him a stick every once in a while. He wanted you to take him out on a run every day, and he even got to a point when he barked at you. Literally barked when you annoyed him. You almost pissed yourself laughing. It was cute and funny, and you wanted to kiss him senseless every time something like that happened.

One day you threw a stick when you were walking through a forest, and he leaped to get it, making you laugh as he came back to you, his body wriggling excitedly. You joked that he acted like a pet, and his broken whine was more than telling. You stared at him dumb-folded, not believing you just discovered one of his kinks because you were playing catch with a werewolf.

And weirdly enough… you liked it.

So you planned how to explore that new part of him (and you). It was hard to make him submit, his instincts being too present most of the time. But this time around the one being claimed was him. You wanted to destroy him for everyone else, you wanted to mark him so completely he could never think of another human again. You wanted to consume his mind until his only animal impulse was to follow you like a good pet.

You wanted it, and he wanted it, too.

That’s how you found yourself tying him to the bed, arms and legs far apart and anchored to the frame, big enough to restrain a wolf. But that wasn’t enough, you needed to stop his other senses, too. So you blindfolded him and tied your used panties to his nose, making him whine as he tried to get the cuffs off, sniffing your desire with each breath he took. He he looked so adorably pathetic that you leaned down and kissed his open mouth, surprising him, who whined and tried to follow your mouth. You giggled and walked away from the bed, taking off your clothes slowly.

You looked at him for a long time, just enjoying every twitch and movement, the way his cock kept leaking even when you weren’t touching him. It was more than arousing to have such a big monster at your mercy, the power trip was driving you a bit insane. You approached the mattress slowly, walking quietly so he would have a hard time placing your movements. When you reached out and grabbed his dick in on fluid movement, he screamed.

You started slowly, jerking him off without rush or goal in mind, just teasing him as he struggled against the restraints. He looked so pretty all needy and desperate. “So hard for me, mmmm…” You appreciative hum made his ears twitch, you giggled, jerking him off a tiny bit faster. “Do you want to come, pet?”

He tried to speak, but what came out of him was just a broken whimper. You smiled, almost cruelly, down at him. So pathetic and needy, tied and blindfolded, but so submissive for you. “What was that? You don’t want to come? I can leave, then.” You took your hand off his dick and he cried out.

“No!” His scream made you laugh as he tried to raise his hips to your hand, making his body vibrate with need and embarrassment. You took pity on him and took his dick in your hand again.

You asked: “What do you want?” Your hand still working his dick slowly, your nails caressing the underside of his cock, right at the point that made him roll his eyes into his head every time you did it.

“I want to come.” He whined pathetically. Your brow lifted, and your hand traveled down to squeeze his balls, making him cry out again and choke out: “I want to come, your grace.”

“That’s better, pet.” You whispered, lowering yourself over him and licking his open mouth. He tried to move his head and catch you, but you didn’t let him. This wasn’t about what he wanted, but what you were going to give him. As much as you wanted, for as long as you wanted. And he would take it like a good pet.

“I want to be a good boy. Your good boy,” he added. You could feel his body vibrating trying to go against his instincts, trying to submit, and you loved it. “Mark me, your grace, please, please. Mark me.” He pleaded, sounding delicious and desperate, the right amount of neediness to make you lose your mind.

“Aww, you beg so beautifully,” you cooed at him, your voice sounded so rough it didn’t even feel like yourself, you were as desperate as him, but not to come, but to make him wild. “Okay, pet. You earned it,” you whispered against his ear, kissing his cheek when you moved into position.

Getting on your knees right over him, you let your bladder go as the same time you took your panties from his face. (Thank the goddess you bought the water repellent sheets.) The combination of you relieving yourself on him and the smell of you on his skin made him lose it. He started to cry out, two wet spots appearing under the blindfold as he cried in pleasure, his dick twitching under you as he came apart without your hands on him.

You smiled as you took off his blindfold and he blinked his teary eyes at you, uncoordinated and hooded, completely fucked out.

At the end of the day, his animal instincts were strong, but his need to submit to you was stronger.

[scruus]

afab childe crying just by looking at the bulge on his stomach as you thoroughly fuck him shsjshj

poor harbinger sobs when you pump his womb full of cum for the nth time of the night, and he can't help but watch as your fluid trails out of his cunt, down his thighs and down on the floor...

going crazy

I had to write an entire fic for this. Its too good.

YOU ALL ARE MAKING ME LOSE SLEEP ON THIS OH GOD. Minors istg DNI or ill bite your head off.

★̶̲ [ 𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 ]

✎ sub afab childe + dom amab reader notes: rough filthy sex; mirror sex; creampie; cum inflation(?); overstimulation; childe being a masochistic son of a bitch(hinted). THIS IS PLAIN FILTHY JUST GHHH STOP I CANT BE SO HORNY ANYMORE

Childe groans when he sees his gaping cunt take you in so well. His teary eyes are half lidded as you try to make him look in the mirror. Make him look at how your dick makes a bulge everytime you move in and out. “S-stop uughh”, he groans out.

You hook his legs apart, him seated on your dick, because his legs have barely the ability to do anything voluntarily. He feels so small in front of you. With the way you are gripping his face and spreading his gummy cum filled cunt apart, it makes him shudder.

“See baby, i think one more dick could easily fit inside you”, you whisper against his ears as you rock your hips again, making that cock of yours reach so deep he could never imagine it was possible. “If i had two dicks….imagine how pretty your belly would look?”, childe moans loudly at the thought, nails digging in your arms. You have made him absolutely pathetic.

You smack your hand against his clit making him jolt, a striking pain going up his pussy. He smiles deliriously, taking in that pain like a good painslut.

Pushing him down, you hold his waist tightly so that there is ease in sliding in him and fucking that cunt senselessly. Childe tries to look up with his dazed eyes and stares at the mirror in front of you both. He can see his back arched like a cat, and your devilish grin while you grope his bruised ass.

Childe screams as you start pounding into him again, the cum acting as a lube and making it easier for your huge dick to move in and out. You groan feeling his cushy fat lips enveloping your dick and his warm cum filled insides pulsing around it. Its the best feeling in the word.

“Oough-n-no s’rough nghh”, he claws on the bedsheets which were stained with his tears and cum. His sobs only further fuelling your desire while you trail kisses down his spine.

His pussy hurts so bad, his clit is all puffy and numb, evident of your abuse on it, yet he still cant be fulfilled. He wants it to hurt like hell. He wants his womb to be filled to the brink, wants you to impregnate him so that all your attention is on him.

Then he wouldn’t need to act like a brat or an attention whore every single minute of the day.

You take both of his arms and pin it to his back, trying to drill into him using them as a leverage. You moan out seeing how his red, scarred ass shakes up and down everytime you slap your hips against his like a feral animal.

Taking your dick all out and then plunging it all in in every thrust, he chokes out whorish cries. You were splitting him open mercilessly and he could just moan and take your entire cock in like a fucking cocksleeve.

Guttural moans and whimpers can be heard from childe as his entire body is being treated like a ragdoll. “Ah fuck my pretty cumslut is being so good today”, you laugh out knowing he loves being called that.

His wrist is now bruising because of your tight grip on them, just like his hips and the rest of his body. Your tip is kissing his womb, balls slapping against his wet sopping cunt.

Pearls of slick dripping down his thighs, as you see your cock disappear in him and appear again. His hips are trembling with shock, trying to keep up with your rough pace. Ah fuck he is so lewd, you think.

He can hardly keep conscious. You have cum so many times in him, he could barely keep it all inside. Poor pup doesn’t want even a bit of your cum to leak out, he wants to savor it all in. But not to worry, you dont plan on stopping soon anytime.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing down on me again, ugh am gonna cum”, you rasp out, your hips picking up pace as you pounded into him with such intensity, childe could see stars in his eyes.

“Ooughh fuckfuckfuckfuck ugh cu-cummin”, his eyes rolling in his skull and his whorish moans getting desperately loud. He could only blabber nonsensically as his voice was nothing but squeaks. And just like that, you came with him.

Drops of water spraying all over the bedsheet while the trembling ginger spasms in your arms, his toes curling and his mouth open in a silent scream. He had squirted once again tonight.

You shut your eyes, his pussy creaming around your cock as his cunt is sucking you further in, and you groan out.

You let go of his arms and his weak body plops on the bed. Taking your dick out you saw the gooey filthy cum drip out of his hole in massive amounts, he was really filled to the brim. He whined on feeling the loss of your cock and the warm cum oozing out.

Your fingers spreading apart his lips and see the sticky cum coating his pretty pink folds and the inside of his gaping hole. You were quite big, after all.

Placing a kiss on his shuddering ass cheeks, you softly kneaded it. “Don’t worry baby, ill take care of you after i wreck you”.

Flipping him on his back, you grabbed his hips and entered inside him in a single thrust, choking out a hoarse moan from childe. “But am not done wrecking you yet”, you huff before pounding into him again as childe continues to scream your name.

Looks like you both have to take the next day off.

[melissa-kenobi]

🎃 Kinktober 2024 🎃 Peter Parker + Sex Pollen

Waheeyyy, 2nd part of Kinktober, we've got Peter Parker up next!

Under 18s, DNI

Warnings: Breeding, Web Fluid, Dirty Talk, Sex Pollen, Possessiveness.

Word Count:

🎃 Kinktober 2024 MasterList 🎃

***

Peter was causally making this way through the room filled with hunters. His spidey instincts were on fire, and every inch of him itched to rid his city of these people. But he couldn't, not now. He had a job to do, to find Kraven.

He made his way through the Hunters, making sure that he maintained his cover as a waiter trying to serve Mr Kravinoffs bodyguard.

Peter was getting anxious. He carried the platter on one hand before heading through the door, looking behind before rushing inside and accidentally bumping into the other servers.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" Peter apologises, putting the platter down, trying to help before the other waiter yells at him for not looking where he was going.

"Hey! Why don't you watch where you're going?"

"I'm sorry!" Peter apologises and backs up before the doors open again, and another waiter crashes into the two of them, making the tables topple over each other. The waiter curses and yells at the other man, making Peter's eyes go wide at the mess.

Quickly scanning the area for an out, he spots the elevator.

Bingo.

Peter backtracks to the elevator, hoping that he will finally find Kraven. Once the elevator reaches the final stop Peter hesitantly steps out eyes flickering around before he senses there's no-one there.

"All clear." He whispers to himself as he stalks around the room, noticing all the trophys and animal heads hung up as prizes, "Spider-Spy to the rescue."

"Spider-Spy? Really?" A sickly sweet voice echoes from behind him.

In an instant, Peter feels the hairs on his arms stand up as he whips around, only to come face to face with a real-life tiger.

"Hey, so at least you're real and alive..." Peter mummers under his breath, eyes wide before they fall upon a female hunter sat atop the tiger, watching Peter carefully. Needing to be cautious, Peter casts a glance at female hunter.

"I've been watching you, Spider-Man. You're not as slick as you think you are." You say before flipping off the tiger and standing right in front of Peter. You'd been watching the little spider make his rounds. You had to admit was pretty fit under that mask of his. He had a cute, handsome face. "You ought to be more careful with the way you walk around, you stuck out like a sore thumb."

Peter is slightly speechless, he thought he was more slick and undercover, "What do you want?"

"I want a lot of things little Spider, but mainly I want your head on a platter for Kraven." You say tilting your head at him whilst stroking the tiger, eyes still on the Spider.

"Well, I can't say its the first time I've heard that." Peter retorts, "How about I apologise and leave swiftly before you unleash that tiger on me and we pretend I was never here?"

"No can do." You say before lunging at him with your bladed knife. Peter swiftly jumps out the way, shooting a web at your arm which you block and flip over.

Your eyes follow the Spider's every move, waiting for him to throw another attack at you. Within seconds, he attacks, shooting web after web at you. You grimace as you dodge each and everyone but not before some of it lands on your thigh.

"That is disgusting. Is this stuff coming outta you?" You say as you swipe off the remains of his webs on your thigh.

Spider-Man shrugs, "It's complicated." He swings up in the air, being held up by one of his web as he hangs upside down, "Look I don't really want to hurt you."

"I do." You growl, eyes focused on his mask before gesturing for your tiger to approach. You watched as the eyes on his mask widened as he watched your tiger approach him, with a menacing glare.

"Hey kitty, good kitty..." Spider-Man said, slowly lifting himself up but not before you threw a knife at his web, instantly cutting through it, making the superhero tumble to the floor as he landed on a vase of something. The vase broke under the weight of Spider-Man, and a yellow puff of smoke erupted from it. Your tiger growled as she inched forwards in front of you, closer to the Spider, almost as if she was protecting you.

You inched closer, gently kicking at his thigh whilst he lay still on the broken vase. He didn't move.

Was he- Was he dead?

You moved closer and bent down to look at him, "Hey- wake up. You can't die that easy." Sighing, you got up to grab some rope to tie the Spider up only to turn around and find that he was gone.

"Fuck- where'd he go?" You spin around to ask your tiger only to find that she too was gone. You curse under your breath as you find your animal gone and the smell of meat lingering. Shit, he had gotten rid of her too.

Before you knew it, you were being swung in the room and webbed up against the wall, and Spider-Man hanging above you as he slowly decended and watched you. You growled as you tried to rid yourself from the webs.

"Let me go." You hiss at him, noticing a slight change in his demeanour.

"Where is Kraven?" He growls, tone darker and voice more gravely as he inched closer to you, pressing his chest to yours. He traced your face with his finger, swiping at the yellow substance.

"You'll never find out from me." You smirk, taking in the yellow powder that coated the bottom half of his suit. You sniffed the air only to cough and spit out the scent. Your eyes fell upon a bulge that was poking through the crotch element of his suit, "Oh fuck-"

Of course he had to fall into that pot.

"Look- Spidey, you're not well. You need to- "You begin to say before you're cut off by him sniffing at your neck. He lifted the bottom half of his mask off and kissed at your throat, moaning softly at your sweet scent.

"You- what did you do to me? I feel-" He hisses, sniffing at your neck, loving the smell of you. It surrounded him like a hoard of bees. The sweet, tangy scent of you was stuck in his mind, in his head, he ached to feel it around his cock, "What is that? It smells so good. You smell so good."

"I-" You begun but was cut off as Spider-Man pushed his lower body against you, slowly rutting his hips against your thigh, "Wait- Spider-Man, you don't want this."

"What was that substance I fell into?" He growls in your ear. Fuck that was hot. Nope. No you shouldn't be- oh shit, now you were going to be affected too.

"It was the pheromones from a plant. A very dangerous plant, one that Kraven used to use to help our population increase." You admit, suddenly feeling your core ache and become wet.

"What does that mean?" He growls again, still not understanding. He moves back a little bit, but not enough to give you room to escape.

You watch his reaction, almost as if he was having a mental conversation with himself about something. His head tilts as he mutters to himself, "Ours?"

Suddenly, his eyes fall upon you, "Her?" He says, sniffing and licking at your neck once more.

"Mine." He growls once more in that low baritone voice, one that sounded so unlike the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man you had seen. He rips his mask off before lunging forward and sucking on your neck, almost possessively. His hands tear at your outfit, ripping it to shreds leaving you exposed whilst his own suit opened up to reveal his cock.

"Holy fuck-" You curse, eyes widening with shock as you watch him pump his cock. That thing was huge, and leaky and red and angry. Fuck, the pollen must have really affected him.

He glances at you before positioning his cock against your lower lips, the head of his cock tapping light against your clit making you moan softly.

"Soaked." He whispers in awe whilst sliding his cock back and forth between your lips before plunging himself in, in one go. You scream and roll your head back against the wall as he penetrates your pussy.

He moves with quick rapid thrusts, not caring at all about your pleasure, only wanting to find his release, and if you weren't so horny you would care. But you enjoyed the way he filled out your pussy, the way you could feel him in your stomach, almost as if he was going to break you. His thick length pushes against your walls, and you loved the way it hurt but felt so good. You wanted more of him.

Peter wasn't holding back. He wanted you. His instincts wanted him to breed you, to fill you, to claim you. You were his, and this was the only way. He didn't care that you were one of Kravens hunters. You were his now. Reaching his peak, he gripped your throat gently, pulling you to his lips before placing a soft kiss on them.

"Mine. You belong to us." He whispered before letting out a low growl of your name and filling you with his cum.

***

[angelicpoison12]

fucking the rockstar ⋆｡°⋆

Adam fucks a cute groupie~

word count: 1.2k

tags: Adam being Adam, rockstar!Adam, groupie!reader, top!Adam, bottom!reader, fucking in the back of the tour bus, spit play, face sitting, doggystyle, rough sex, (mild) breeding kink, AFAB reader, gn!reader, no condoms, spit as lube, piercing kink, Adam's an animal ya'll have fun <3

NSFW, 18+ ✦

you can't even remember what the Hell got you in this situation.

you had the lead man of the band The Exorcists underneath you, his stubble scratching your folds, large hands gripping your thighs, holding you firmly as his tongue lapped at your soaked cunt. and fuck, you couldn't get enough. this had only been going on for two minutes or so, and you were already close to the edge. you ran your fingers through his hair affectionately, grinding your hips down onto his mouth, making you whimper, "Adam.. fuck, oh God," you whimpered. all he could do was smirk up at you, dragging his tongue over your swollen clit, the metal barbel of his tongue piercing making a chill run up your spine. a hand came up to cup your chest, and his eyes closed, a gentle hum leaving his lips. "you taste so fuckin' good, Sinner. like a goddamn dream,"

even though it was a nickname used for his fans all the time, it still made butterflies erupt in your belly when it rolled off of his lips. your humping got heavier, making Adam's tongue go into a frenzy. he wanted you so bad. he was so used to just quickies, making sure he got off first, leaving whoever he was pumping into in the dust. surprisingly though, this felt different. he wasn't one to get sappy or feel his heart get convulsions when he was fucking some whore in the back of his tour bus, but fuck, he got those with you. i mean, it wasn't everyday he let someone sit on his face, okay? you were pretty special to say the least.

"fuck, Adam, i-i'm gonna cummm!" the words were a little slurred. you swore you were getting drunk off of Adam's ministrations, and it seemed to be the same for the man below you, except with the taste of your entrance. he hummed eagerly, burying his face impossibly deeper inside of you, his tongue curling inside of you. both hands went back to digging into your plush thighs, black fingernails digging into the skin, making red crescent moons come up.

you cried out as you came, feeling yourself squeeze around his slippery tongue. he growled under you, cleaning you up from your release. Adam pushed you off, letting you land with a soft thud onto your back, hitting the mattress of his bunkbed. "oh, i'm far from done with you, bitch." Adam said with a chuckle. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. he undid his white studded belt, discarding his black t-shirt, which was wet from a mix of saliva and your fluids. "Adam.. 'm still really sensitive," you whined, feeling him hoist your legs over his thick hips. he quirked a brow at you and mockingly retorted, "too sensitive, hm? c'mere, Sinner,"

yeah, it was a little dumb. he didn't even know your name, yet he's had his tongue inside you, and now he's about to rearrange your guts. you'd heard a rumor that he was packing, and now you were about to find out. like a naive puppy, you lifted your body, feeling Adam's hands hold your shoulders. one hand came up, wordlessly lifting your chin. he hooked a thumb onto your lower lip, making you open your mouth.

he fucking spat in your mouth.

you coughed a little at the impact, feeling the slippery, foamy fluid in your gullet. it didn't taste like anything. it was like your own saliva, actually. you swallowed obediently, and you felt Adam's cock twitch in his pants at the sight. "fuck, that's a good sinner," he groaned, kissing your cheek, then your lips. you mewled into the kiss, your eyes slipping shut.

Adam flipped you, your tummy on the bed, hands and knees flat against the blanket. you felt the head of his cock against your entrance, and you looked back-oh yeah, he was fucking huge. a good six inches in length, a hell of a girth on that monster as well-but what caught your eye was something that glittered. did this fucker have his dick pierced? Adam noticed you staring and he smirked, tapping his tip on your butt. "yeah, got it done a few months ago. pretty cool, huh?" it was a prince albert piercing. you bit your lip, about to make some smartass comment, but whimpered when he rubbed his pierced cockhead against your swollen clit.

"yeah, feels good, doesn't it baby?" Adam asked, his voice teasing. all you could do was whine and press back against Adam, just aching to have him inside of you already. "aw, someone a desperate Sinner?" Adam cooed. you grabbed his pillow, burying your face into it as you grunted, "just shut up and fuck me..!" "mm, good Sinner," Adam purred, pushing himself all the way inside of you in one go.

"fuck!" you cried out, your back arching into Adam's pudgy gut. he groaned and held your hips with an iron-like grip, growling into your ear. "fuck.. you're so fucking tight, Sinner. you don't take a cock this big often, do ya?" Adam asked, snickering. he didn't even give you time to respond, starting to slam in and out of you. it didn't even hurt, it was just a small stretch at first. fuck, Adam's words were making you feel like you were on fire. you felt the head of his cock press against your walls, the piercing adding to the sensory journey of it all. "fuck! yes!" you moaned. you reached to grab the sheets, only for Adam's hand to snake up, trapping your hand in the sheets. this was your dream; getting fucked like some throwaway in the back of someone's tour bus.

by the way Adam was huffing, the erratic pace of his hips, his grip tightening on you-you knew he was getting close. "Adam, pull out," you panted. Adam full-blown laughed at your comment, his thrusts slowing. "mm, nah, babe, i don't think i will." he said with a menacing chuckle.

you whipped your head back to look at him, eyes wide with confusion. "i said to pull out, fucker! i didn't ask for you to!" you barked, getting cut off with a moan when his tip rubbed into your g-spot. Adam let out a huff of annoyance but did as you requested, pulling out. he stroked himself, moaning lowly as he came in hot spurts all over your butt. Adam hummed, rubbing his tip all over his release on your rump, making you groan in embarrassment. "you're gross.." you whined, making Adam let out a boisterous laugh. "aw, c'mon Sinner, i think it's cute. now clean off my cock with that pretty little mouth of yours, yeah?"

his request was too sweet to turn down. you knew you were going to be in this tour bus for a while. you should've texted your friends now that you thought about it, but hey, there's no thinking when it comes to The Original Dick.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

my sweet snowflake buddies! (i hope the first one in particular enjoys this teehee)

@6esiree , @sluxh-xo

[eybefioro]

(Kanji-less version, timelapse and ramblings under the cut)

ALSO OPEN THE IMAGE TUMBLR KILLED THE QUALITY AS USUAL

I wasn't sure sure which version was better, so here is the one without the ~~menacing~~ kanji! (And sorry. I'm sure the Kanji I did is horrible but I swear I tried my best)

So. Before some time before Good Omens consuming my every awaken thought, the media that lived in my head was JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. Because of a certain thing I am working on, my mind end up connecting the two and I HAD to do something about it or else I'd go crazy.

(Cues 3 min time lapse bc i spent -checks app- ALMOST 46 HOURS on this thing. Fuck)

Since JJBA is one of my fixations, at some point I end up watching every single interview with Araki (the author) I could get my hands into, and lo and behold he actually shared about his process quite a bit over the years. We even have access to some timelapses of him working on illustrations!!! I tried to follow a bit of his process, and one VERY interesting characteristic of his work is the JoJo pose – very dramatic covers/panels that showcase the character. He often uses fashion shoots as a references (Araki is very inspired by fashion, architecture and music and there is a million references in his work it's very very interesting and fun) like this:

So there I go on Pinterest looking for a fashion photo that inspires me (Google was shit. What is happening to that search engine?) AND I FOUND IT

YALL. IT WAS LIKE A SHOT RIGHT THROUGH MY BRAIN. I COULD SEE IT SO CLEARLY. Aziraphale and Crowley falling out of heaven together after the second coming. Azi holding him. Crowley giving the middle finger to all those fuckers bc HE GOT HIS ANGEL BACK.

But the thing is... the things is. I'm no artist. I have almost no experience drawing. And this is not exactly an easy pose, and is something pretty ambitious for a beginner like me (I can literally count on my hands the amount of digital drawings I have done. It's all on my blog even lol) so like.... the chances of this going well were very slim. But I am very happy with how it turned out!!

I have to thank @elenthyaolyenths and @gribouli LOTS for that. Elen teached me how wings worked, a bit of anatomy with that, a bit of how she makes those beautiful fluid pieces, Li taught me a bit about colors and light/Shadow. Their support was amazing and they're so so nice to me 🥹

I had so much trouble drawing this bc I'm still learning how digital painting works and how Ibis Paint works. Idk what half of the stuff there does LMAO yk the line work? All in one layer. Don't do that folks. I resized the canvas half way through and had to redo a bit of the line art bc I had to scale it a bit to make the proportions better. Half way in I figured out how to make masks (again, elenthya is an angel for telling me that exists) so I had to learn as I went how that thing works (I still don't know how to use it fully). Ibis Paint froze like 4 times bc my phone can't handle it well LMAO my precision is shit bc I mostly draw with my fingers so I had to gave up control and use the stabiliser on maximum... and so on.

I'm having so much trouble with everything in digital painting BUT IT'S SO MUCH FUN. THERE'S SO MANY POSSIBILITIES. I'm excited to keep going and learn more.

Back to the Jojo style. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. I love harsh lines and shadows, the dramatic effects, the detail, the crazy perspectives, the colors... THE WAY ARAKI DRAWS SMOKE AND CLOUDS.

This was my ref for the background, and to represent the heaven Crowley is flipping off and that they're falling from. (fuck this scene in the anime broke me. BUCCIARATI MY BELOVED)

AND THE CLOTHEEEEESSSSS I HAD SO MUCH FUN IMAGINING WHAT THEY'D WEAR IN ARAKI'S STYLE. Obviously Aziraphale is once again sporting something inspired by the crepes look bc omg that was so OVER THE TOP. I'm sure araki would come up with something crazier and more interesting than what I did, but I still think this is a fair shot.

As much as I love JoJo's style I have to say it isn't really an art style made to depict softness. Like. I don't think Araki ever drew something that looks soft. All the characters are slim or super strong, and the few ones that are fat he didn't really... Well. I'm gonna say it. Araki doesn't draw fat people, and when he does I don't think they're a good depiction. As I said he doesn't do softeness lol nothing looks soft in his style, not even fabric I think. It's all sharp lines, dark shadows (again, I love it but yeah) and thin (or extremely big in the first parts) people. This fits really well with Crowley but not so much with Aziraphale. If this was a pose that showed more of him I'd probably not do a great job at it. I think I'd need to go heavy on trying to make his clothes look soft and big to try to make it better.

Now WwwwwiiiIIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGZZZZZZZ!!!! Elen is such a magician at drawing wings. I can't believe she actually offered to help me with this one. I learned so much. I was taking inspiration from her work, I wanted to make them BIG and GLORIOUS as she does and I think I succeeded a bit at it (they're not as fluid and perfect as hers, obviously, but I think they still look nice.)

As she was explaining to me how the anatomy works and all we ended up talking about how they're like arms and the digits in bats and I decided to give Crowley that type of wings. I also discovered that Elenthya used to draw DRAGONS. DRAGONS YALL. SHE GAVE ME A DOODLE OF ONE AND IT'S SO AMAIZNG. So together with the bat wings I tried to give him some drangon-esque feel. And she also gave me the idea to make Crowley's wings more damaged, to give more weight to the drawing - Aziraphale helping him not to fall again, holding him in the descend.

Anyway. I talked too much already and no one has the patience for this lol I just like to register the process of me learning things. It's fun.

[thedovesaredying]

Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 3

Third chapter of the Cowboy!Nikto series. Nikto has some emotions and has no idea what they mean or how to deal with them. Original Cowboy concept based on the AU by @ghouljams

A/N: Finally got enough time to work on this chapter after weeks and weeks of hectic stress with work and university. Thank you to all of those still following along with the story, I'll hopefully have the next part out soon. Fun fact: The story of a horse getting hurt running into a fence because they were so excited to see someone is from one of the silly yearlings at uni lol.

Warnings: Minor medical proceedures, Nikto getting a little jealous.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

First | Previous | Next

Nikto can’t help wondering if there’s anything that can ruin your seemingly perpetual good mood. Even with your body dripping with sweat and elbow deep inside of a cow, you’re still somehow grinning brightly at the farmer standing beside you. Doing a part of your job that some would consider... unpleasant at best, you’re able to act as if it’s the most exciting thing you’ve ever done.  

One of the other farm hands, a man about your age, if a year or two older, is acting a little too interested in what you’re doing, however, and Nikto’s jaw is aching with how hard he’s grinding his teeth together. They make a soft groaning sound as they suffer under the pressure he’s subjecting them to, but unfortunately, it’s the only thing keeping him from snapping at “Darren” when the man crowds close to you with what he must think is a suave grin.  

“Alright, I can feel the cervix now,” you hum, and he can see the way your arm twists slightly within the animal, “it’s pretty easy to manoeuvre it around.” You frown to yourself, seemingly oblivious to the way that annoying brat leans a little closer, “the reproductive tract isn’t very heavy.” 

“And what’s that mean, darlin’?” Darren asks, and Nikto can’t decide what he hates more, the tone the other man is using to address you, or the way he thinks it’s okay to place a hand on your shoulder. The gelding underneath Nikto snorts, shifting uncertainly as he likely senses the tension brewing.  

“Oh,” you blink at Darren, as if only just noticing him for the first time, “normally you wouldn’t be able to move the cervix around so easily if she was carrying a calf, I’d be able to feel at least a little weight to it.” You reach a little further into the cow, taking a few moments longer before adding, “I can also feel the horns of her uterus, and there’s no fluid I can feel inside them.”  

Darren is nodding, but his gaze is far from focused on the animal or what you’re actually saying to him.  

You pull you hand slowly from the cow, removing the palpation glove and dropping it into the bin beside the cattle crush. “Looks like this girl’s open, I’m afraid,” you say, grabbing the can of cattle paint and spraying a bright green streak across the animal’s tail, “and that’s the last of the girls done.”  

Pulling the release lever, the heifer is let out of the crush and into the holding pen with the rest of the females you’ve checked for pregnancies. While most of them have little blue marks to indicate a successful insemination, a few of the younger ones weren’t lucky enough to take this time around.  

Darren looks as though he’s about to say something further (more than likely something stupid and obnoxious), but before he can do anything more than puff up his chest, Mr. Roberts is snapping at him.  

“Darren! Get your ass into the paddock, boy!” The old man has a scowl on his face that would have recruits shaking in their boots and a voice with a harsh snarl to it from years of smoking. “The hell do I bother paying you for?” he grumbles, watching as the younger man near enough trips over himself in his haste to get back to work.  

Nikto can’t help admiring the man for his no nonsense approach to his work. He’s friendly enough toward those who work for him, and when Nikto was looking for employment, took him on board with no questions asked. The elderly cowboy has made it clear that he could care less about where someone comes from, only that they can do an honest day’s hard work.  

“Well, thank you for giving us a hand with the ladies,” the old man’s tone softens drastically, and he offers you a firm handshake, “I know those big business farms have all that fancy new technology and blood tests to make checking for calves easier, but I much prefer the old method.”  

Although he would never admit it aloud, it’s rather… sweet, the way you beam at Mr. Roberts and nod along to his words. “Of course! A blood test would be useful for determining how long the baby’s been gestating for, but there’s nothing wrong with the palpation method to find out if they’re carrying anything.” 

Roberts seems pleased by your response, offering you an elusive smile, before giving you one final nod, “I’ll see you around town in a few days, and I’ll drop your payment off at the clinic.”  

There are a few final pleasantries exchanged, all of which Nikto ignores. He was supposed to be getting the horse tacked down and set out for the day. Getting distracted by you while doing your job was just an unfortunate happenstance. He urges the gelding onward with a gentle tap to the animal’s side, leaving you to the business of packing up all of your tools in peace.  

He dismounts once reaching the stable, giving the horse a firm pat on the shoulder before leading him into one of the nearest stalls. He can’t know for certain if anyone else will need Murphy before the end of the day, seeing as the horse belongs to Roberts, but the least he can do is ensure he’s comfortable until he’s turned out for the end of the day.  

While “Murphy” isn’t exactly a name that Nikto would have chosen for a horse, given it’s a little too human for his own tastes, apparently, the gelding was named after Murphy’s Law, seeing as the poor animal seems to constantly be getting into trouble. Anything that could possibly go wrong for him can and will. He’s only just recovered from a nasty gash he’d received to the front of his chest after getting a little too excited to see Nikto coming to greet him and crashing directly into a barbed wire fence.  

Nikto starts untacking Murphy, starting with the bridle and moving his way backwards. He gives the gelding a quick brushing down and picks out his hooves to ensure there’s no stones or injuries that’ve gone unnoticed. He leaves Murphy to his dinner while he works on cleaning off the bit of the bridle and applying oil where the leather has begun to dry out. It’s a difficult job with only one properly functioning arm, but he’s not about to ask for any assistance with such a mundane chore.  

When he gets back, however, he’s startled to find you standing there, stroking Murphy’s mane while the horse happily munches on a mouthful of hay. You’re cooing at the animal happily, giggling when Murphy starts trying to nibble at your shirt once running out of food.  

You turn and offer him a smile, face still a little warm from the sun outside and with several strands of your hair poking out in odd directions. He finds that the look suits you, oddly enough.  

It’s only when you call his name that he realises that you’ve been trying to speak to him and he’s just been there staring at your face like a complete idiot. He shifts his grip on the halter he’s holding and clears his throat. “What do you need?” He settles on eventually, deciding that’s the least offensive way of telling you he hasn’t heard a word spoken to him.  

Thankfully, you don’t seem to be too upset by it. “I was just asking how poor Murphy is doing, I know he had a nasty scratch recently,” you’re looking at Nikto, but your words are said in the same, high-pitched coo you tend to use whenever you’re talking to Sputnik, accompanied by a rather overdramatic frown.  

He rolls his eyes at you, but finds he isn’t entirely annoyed by the antics. “Fine. His wound has healed well,” he says while reaching over to try and guide Murphy’s head a little closer. He may not be a trained veterinarian, but Nikto has seen plenty enough injuries in his life to be able to tell when one isn’t healing well. Murphy, of course, decides not to cooperate, instead trying to press the side of his fluffy face up against you.  

Getting the halter over the horse’s head with one hand is rather awkward, especially with the way the animal insists on moving about. You reach out, and he’s about to snap at you for trying to do it for him. He’s had enough of people trying to treat him like an infant recently, as though he’s not a dangerous killer.  It was suffocating enough when it was hospital staff and physiotherapists, but even a civilian thinking he’s too incapable to perform such a simple task? 

But then, you simply grab the buckle in one hand and hold it in position for him to secure himself.  

It would be far faster and more efficient for you to take the halter and do it yourself, yet you stand patiently without comment, and wait as he pulls the strap over the horse’s head and fastens the catch in place. He’s not sure why the thought of you specifically treating him like a weak child had him prepared to lash out quite so aggressively, especially when he’s brushed off similar actions by other people with only a few choice words and a particularly icy glare.  

You return to eagerly cooing at the horse before he can force himself to offer any kind of thanks, and he quickly pushes down the uncomfortable tangle of emotions trying to crawl their way up from his stomach.  

“Are you finished for the day?” You ask after a few moments of silence. He gives you a nod and you’re quick to ask, “how’s your girl been holding up?”  

“Our girl?” he asks slowly, forehead scrunching up. Do you think he has a partner or some kind? Why would you think there’s a girl in his life? Has he done something to make you think he’s married or dating someone?  

“Sputnik,” you clarify, and his face must do something odd because you snort at his reaction. “Why, do you have another girl?” 

Nikto can’t help automatically scoffing at the question, shaking his head at the very thought, “нет, we have no one.” He sees your eyebrows raise slightly, as if surprised by that, but you quickly school your expression back into its normal, carefree smile.  

Your expression quickly turns into something playful, however, as you add, “really? A big, handsome man like you?” He’s not sure how genuine your teasing tone is, “surely you’ve got the ladies lining up.” You have this way of joking around with him and asking questions in a way that doesn’t make him want to immediately tell you to ‘fuck off’. It’s a strange feeling, and he’s not entirely sure he likes it.  

“You are just crazy,” he counters, going to cross his arms over his chest, only to realise he can’t and instead settling for just letting them rest in place. He sees your eyes travel down the length of his damaged arm, stopping at where it abruptly ends. You don't comment on it, however, and he’s annoyed by how glad he is that you don’t. You likely didn’t even notice his injury until now, given he’s been wearing his prosthetic covered by long-sleeved clothes and gloves every other time you’ve met.  

“Wow, so rude,” you grin, trying to playfully shove his shoulder, only to pout when he’s entirely unmoved by the action. He’s been called rude many times in his life, but this is the first time he’s ever found himself pleased to hear it from someone.  

The sound of the stable door opening has you pulling your attention away from him and toward Roberts, who has just entered. You give Murphy a quick pet to the side of the neck, and Nikto a final grin, offering up a brief, “I’ll see you around.” 

Roberts waves as you leave the stables, waiting for the large door to close before he turns to look at Nikto, one of his bushy eyebrows raised. “So, when’re you gonna marry that lovely girl?” The old man asks, leaning against the stall door with an upward twitch of his lips.  

Nikto near enough chokes on thin air, whirling around on the cowboy with a startled, “что?”  

The old man just sighs heavily, shaking his head, “just make sure you do it soon, yeah? We need another vet living out here on a permanent basis,” he ploughs on, “she already knows the area and she’s a lovely young lady.”  

As quickly as he arrived, Roberts wanders off again, heading back to work and leaving Nikto standing in the middle of the horse stall. He takes a long moment, just staring at where the old man had been a few moments ago while his brain slowly processes everything. Surely he wasn’t being serious, right?

-

Translations

“да,” - “Yes” 

"что?” - "What?"

[spinji]

I NEED TO YAP ABOUT THIS MOVIE MY GOD-

YOU'RE NEXT SPOILERS UNDER CUT

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaokayokay-

Can I just say I DO NOT recommend seeing this the same day as watching the new episode because I have had a DAY-

Unfortunately, the theater I went to didn't have the booklets or promotional cups but not a huge loss. It's the price I pay to have my boyfriend by my side; worth it. ♡

As with all my other MHA theater outings the screening was packed with delightful weirdos (dubbed, if you happen to care). One guy had an extensive set of custom MHA lego guys (very cool) and two very enthusiastic Toga cosplayers were so kind and kept me from feeling like a dork going out in public in a Deku wig. All the love to them, fr.

The movie itself though ohhhhh MY~

If I'm being honest this one didn't surpass World Heroes Mission or Heroes Rising for me, but also I don't know what you could do to beat out the movies that gave me such extreme brainrot it got me to be a part of this fandom in the first place. Personal rankings for the movies, best to "worst" is 3, 2, 4, 1.

Maybe it's because I had higher expectations instead of being given the best character in the franchise suddenly with no warning but I did still really REALLY love it. The highest point I can give it is easily the animation. Absolutely zero scenes in this movie feel like they fell to the standard of the anime. Everything was fluid and detailed and so fun to look at. And yes, of course it made every attack flashy as fuck. I was giddy every time Bakugou let out an explosion.

The premise did sound insane going in, and it is, but it's an anime side movie. Caring about the plot is a bonus, not a requirement. I guess my only real gripe is that it felt a little too fast? Very few scenes had time to breathe and unlike the other movies there wasn't really any slow establishing opening. If you come to MHA exclusively for the action, I think this one will be your new favorite.

Okay- I'm gonna just bullet point my highlights because I'm barely restrained enough to sit down and type.

First of all GIULIO!!!

Listen- I knew I would love this guy but oh my god babygirl~

He responds to literally everyone approaching him by pointing a gun at them. No comment this is just great

When Deku tells him to stop shooting at someone, he just pulls out a SECOND GUN and points it at him too

His motorcycle also has guns. Ngl I have expected his eye implant to also have a gun for a moment there.

He is SUCH an asshole to Deku in the first half and I love it. Their dialogue exchanges were so funny.

And in the second half he just,,,,cracks under the pressure so hard,, Man is having the WORST day of his life fr. It's really nice to know he and Anna are safe at UA rn. Poor things deserve it.

Anna and Giulio are really cute romantically, Giulio is definitely adult but he's going in the Deku harem anyway. You can't stop me, I am capable of worse.

Anna herself unfortunately doesn't get much time since she spends most of the movie mind controlled but she's harmlessly sweet and adorable. Anna they could never make me hate you.

I want to smear Dark Might across the side of a wall and given how much they overanimated his expressions, I believe this is the intended effect.

Am I the only one that hopes he sees the Mech Might livestream just to rub salt in the wound? Don't you dare let All Might's name fall from your mouth again, you bag of scum.

I really REALLY wanted Izuku to get pissed off and start naming off inconsistencies between how All Might and Dark Might look: "His eyes are SKY blue, not ocean blue, and while his broad features don't make it obvious, his chin was actually much slimmer, also you got the silver age colors wrong-!" alas... you know he was thinking it though-

Big tiddy mind control gf Deborah my beloved- she has pretty privileges for everything

Actually a lot of the lesser goons of the family were kind of dorky and odd. I loved the energy! Why was one of them literally a D&D nerd that put on a wizard robe OVER HIS SUIT. Most entertaining movie villian group for sure.

The personal dreams everyone had under the mind control? Kill me. Kill me right the fuck now!

Shoto literally just wants a happy childhood with his family??? Where Touya wants to play with him????? And Rei was still happy????? UUGAHWAAAAAAAA

Tenya and Tensei being heroes together STOP-

Shoji with the little girl he saaaaaaved,,,and he didn't have his face scars anymoooooore,,,

So glad they didn't show Ochako's because you know they would have just animated that what if pixel animation of her and Toga being childhood friends and I would have vomited in sorrow.

Absolutely infuriating they broke continuity to have Katsuki call Izuku "Deku" and not "De-Izuku". Never forget what they took from us.

"Beat it, cool side character!" is the best line in the movie. Katsuki does not forget what happened with Rody and he does NOT forgive.

Followed closely by "I'm falling down crotch-first!" And you wonder why I write the fics I do about you, Deku-

Deku being a legend as a jailbreaker hunter is so amazing?? Yes baby, they're so scared of you! You're doing amazing sweetie!

I might think of more but tldr: YOU'RE NEXT IS A REALLY FUN TIME AND YOU SHOULD WATCH IT!

[circusmania]

Can i request some fluff with platonic yandere SCP 2662 who see reader who is also immortal but doesn't really know about it that is uneffected by SCP 2662 anomalous effect as a friends?

Both of them playing animal crossing

(Platonic) Yandere!SCP-2662 x GN!Reader ──────────────────────── Notes: Tysm for requesting this. I had so much reading about SCP-2662 and writing this request! I hope you enjoy ♡. Muah Muah ✮

───────────────────────

SCP-2662, a Keter class anomaly, is a humanoid who's actually (surprisingly) pretty chill. Also known as Cthulhu f'UCK OFF! (we'll just call him Cthulhu here), has a pretty humanoid(ish) appearance, along with fully functional cephalopod limbs attached to his back. He possesses the ability to manipulate and put false information into humans' dreams. Although his "followers" view him as all high and mighty, Cthulhu has no intentions of being their god. Rather, he prefers to sit in his containment cell and go about his day. Be it reading his daily newspaper or playing his many video games.

Tossing the introduction aside, You, an immortal being, had landed in the hands of the SCP Foundation. Be it intentional or not, you're stuck in your cell whether you like it or not. It ain't all that bad though, you're pretty cooperative and kind to those assigned to you, earning you a lot of rewards.

Once the Foundation found out that you're unaffected by various anomalous effects, new doors opened for you. One of those doors was he, himself, Cthulhu. A kind but massive beast, you two hit it off well.

At first, Cthulhu had thought you were another of his "devoted" followers.

You found him sitting at his table, a newspaper in hand and a coffee in the other.

"Oh, Saint Alagadda... what show are you going to put on now!? Hello?! Task Force!! Another one got in!!"

You stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Excuse me?"

You cringed, and he stopped yelling once he realized you weren't stripping or yelling insanities.

"You're not going to smear your blood and/or fluids on my walls…?" He asked, warily.

"WHAT!?? No?? What made you think that??"

He narrowed his beady eyes.

"Well, can't rule you out yet... You might just be faking it..."

"Right..."

"Trust issues much…" (He glared at you).

"In the meantime, you can stay...mm... over there." He pointed to the furthest corner from him possible.

You obeyed and sat in the corner, not making your case any better, since obeying him made it look like you were following his commands as your “god”.

Whenever you were pushed into these experiments, the researchers never gave you any information on the anomaly. Normally you don't care, but you would've appreciated some info on this one. By far, this one has made it to the top of your list of "Top Ten Weirdest first impressions."

You remained in the corner for hours a day to maximize as much exposure as possible (occasionally you got breaks and check-ups from the personnel). At the 2-month mark, Cthulhu had become pretty fond of you. He was very relieved that you showed no signs of wanting to perform rituals for him.

He allowed you to join him at his table and provided you with your very own cup of coffee! (If coffee isn't up to your taste, he's more than happy to supply you with anything else. Well, anything that the Foundation will allow).

Your relationship with Cthulhu got stronger as he invited you to join him in his many video games. Be it horror, indie, action, survival, or RPG, he's happy to be able to play with someone who views him only as a friend.

"You know, I'm happy you're different. It's nice that I can finally interact with someone without them flashing their cloaca at me."

"... Do I even want to know?"

As time passed, you two got to know more and more about each other. It took Cthulhu some time to open up after the "Massy's Big Chance" incident. You found out that Cthulhu had run away from home when his dad wouldn't stop projecting his sex cult on him. Yikes. You comforted him the best you could.

However, when he really started to like you (platonically) was the time when his worshippers broke into his cell again, and he found out that you weren't just a regular human.

This time, he was in the shower, and you were the unfortunate one to fall victim.

Cue in 3 naked, sex-crazed humans.

"What the actual fuck... How did you three get in here??" You had a newspaper in your hands and were sitting at his place at the table.

They spared you no less than a glance and made their way toward the bathroom.

"Uh, the hell? You can't go in th-"

You made the mistake of grabbing onto one of the humans' arms, and they quickly pulled out a knife and stabbed your arm.

You shrieked, alerting Cthulhu. Although being immortal, you could still feel pain, and god did this hurt like a bitch.

Cthulhu came rushing out, grabbing his follower's attention.

"Oh, great one! We've come to liberate you!"

He paid no mind to them, his focus was on you and your bleeding arm. Which didn't look well in his follower's eyes.

"Oh, sweet Alagadda! Are you oka-" He started to make his way towards you when one of his followers jumped in front of him.

"But first, we'll start with a sacrifice!"

"This one will do!"

One of the humans grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back. He raised his knife, and before he could reach your neck, he got sucker punched into a wall by Cthulhu. Really unexpected considering Cthulhu's nature.

He scooped you up in his arms, not letting anyone touch you till the Task Force arrived with medics.

"Don't worry... I just so happen to be immortal…" Your voice strained and weak as you tried not to pass out from the blood loss.

"WHAT??"

You ended up fainting anyways.

Fast-forward...

"Never thought you could actually hit someone."

You sat on the floor, leaning against Cthulhu's shoulder. Your arm was tightly bandaged, despite your protests.

He sighed. "Neither did I... Must've been the adrenaline."

Cthulhu was still annoyed that you hadn't told him earlier about your immortality.

"To be fair, you never asked."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm just glad you're safe."

He smiled in his own unique way and you returned the gesture. You two spent the afternoon playing Animal Crossing together and blabbering about anything that crossed your minds.

That day, Cthulhu promised himself to protect you at all costs. Perhaps, one day, when he's "older" you two will live together in a house. Playing all the video games possible and away from anyone that could tear you two apart. ──────────────────────── Cites: “SCP-2662 - SCP Foundation.” The SCP Foundation, 15 March 2023, https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2662. (Official info on SCP-2662)

“SCP-2662 | Heroes Wiki | Fandom.” Heroes Wiki, https://hero.fandom.com/wiki/SCP-2662. (Additional info on SCP-2662)

Bierman, Ed. “Skeeve Online - SCP Foundation.” The SCP Foundation, 15 December 2022, https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/skeeve-online. (Massy's Big Chance incident)

────────────────────────

[yellow-berrys]

dote on me | sirius black x fem!reader

summary: you are completely oblivious to the way sirius black dotes on you, and think that the way you're infatuated with him is completely one-sided. but he begs to differ.

warnings: mentions of a bad childhood, mentions of smoking, drinking and illicit substances

navigation | masterlist 

Sirius Black makes you nervous and he darn well knows that. He uses those consuming grey eyes of his, filled with enigmatic interest, to his advantage. He only needs to focus them on you for a considerate amount of time for you to start burning up like a wildfire. And his nose, it’s pointed and perfect, leaving you wondering just how unfair life can be. His cheekbones are high and structured, light hitting them at glorious angles. His lips are devoid of much red. They’re this cool plum colour that looks like it’s lip gloss all the time but really isn’t. His skin is framed by smooth black hair, and the layers in his haircut are so pretty it prompted every other guy in his life to get the same one. It drives you mad that he was born with this face and that hair. It’s simply unjustified. 

It would be fine if he was just a pretty face. But it’s not. It’s simply unacceptable just how nice he is. Sometimes you wish he isn’t a gentleman and that all the rumours about him being a player with a million tattoos were true, because you’re envious and adoring of him. 

And like anyone, he definitely has a vice. People think it’s cigarettes for him but he definitely does not smoke. And he doesn’t drink. At parties, he’s cradling a cautiously poured glass of lemonade instead. And he definitely doesn’t do drugs, because he hangs around Remus Lupin and there’s no way he would be allowed to if he did. Remus is a little sickly sometimes, and his body is very sensitive. 

He likes to say his vice is chasing things he’ll never have. Like his childhood. He thinks he has regained that. Now, maybe it’s some sort of romance. All his life he’s been mooned over. People love him, mostly because he’s beautiful, and they offer him burning hot love all the time. People think he’s one for angsty, fiery passion. But Sirius thinks that fires never last, they’re too easy to disturb and taint everything with the unpleasant smell of smoke. James once did one of his stupid Women’s Weekly quizzes on him, the one with the “Tell me your favourite colour, and it’ll tell you what other people think of you, tell me your favourite animal…” questions. Sirius had laughed, thrown his head back and answered in a complete stupor. “Black, maroon if black isn’t an answer, dog…” James had asked him what his favourite body of water was and Sirius had said “A lake.”

He had spent summers of his broken youth dipping his toes into the pretty lake by his family’s home in France, escaping from the whirlwind world inside the walls of Walburga and Orion’s chateau. It didn’t make him cry more when he cried, because it would welcome the tears into the gently flowing water. 

James had smiled, “Why?”

Sirius had told him, “It’s gentle, relaxing, peaceful. The one in France was so enveloping and soft. I felt safe there.”

“Chateau?”

“Yep. I used to go out there as a little boy. It was so quiet out there and it felt like heaven, so fluid and open.”

“Hm,” James had studied the words underneath, squinting his eyes, “Ooh, that’s how you feel about love. Never knew you were the romantic type, Pads.”

He had laughed. 

James had asked you too. You had giggled, “Did you steal Lily’s Women’s Weekly again?”

He grumbled, “Not again.”

“I like ponds with little koi fish swimming in them.”

“Why?”

“It’s calm in a joyful way. It’s safe and there’s always rays of golden sun and it feels so delightful and promising. Lucky too, I guess. Oh! And it’s so pretty by a koi fish pond.”

James had grinned and left promptly. 

Sirius thought it was strange when he had first met you. He hadn’t ever had these feelings before, and it took years for him to shove them aside and focus on his studies, friends and mischief-making. But you were affiliated with Marlene, you were always around in some way. You and him became friends and Sirius felt those feelings resurface again. 

He groans into his hands as he runs it across his face. 

“Why?!” he asks Lily, who is watching amusedly. 

“I’m sure you can’t help it,” she says primly, “But what if you could help it?”

He looks at her inquisitively. 

“What if you acted on these feelings? It isn’t half-bad of an idea. You’re grown up, Sirius, and if you still like her that means it’s real.”

“She doesn’t like me.”

“You don’t know that.” 

“What if bad things happen?”

“What’s the worst that could?”

“Death.”

“You’re already halfway there,” she rolls her eyes, “Give it a shot, maybe love will make you less sad.”

“I’m not sad!”

“Whatever, start loving, Sirius.”

She picks up her Women’s Weekly magazine and starts reading. “Ooh, there’s this quiz-”

Sirius groans. 

–

“Hey darling,” Sirius strides into your apartment. Good start, he thinks. 

You’re sprawled on the couch, grinning as you FaceTime Marlene and Dorcas. When you see him, you look up, surprised. 

“Marlene’s in Vegas,” you say, “Didn’t she tell you?”

Marlene did tell Sirius, and even offered that he come with her and Dorcas.

You flip the camera to Sirius, and even in blurry, low quality, Facetime video he’s still very handsome. 

Marlene screams, “What is that monster doing in my apartment?”

You grin, “Marls, he was looking for you.”

“Actually,” Sirius tilts his head, and if you weren’t so thick you might see the smitten look in his eyes, “I’m here for you.” 

You frown, “For taxes? It’s only the start of the month. Besides, the IRS will never tail you, you’re too rich for that.”

“Can’t I spend time with you, pretty girl?”

It’s flattering, but it seems too abrupt to be genuine. You brush it off with a laugh.

“Get a load of you,” you roll your eyes, “What do you need?”

“I need you,” he attempts and the confession, although seeming flirtatious and joking, brings a smile to your face. 

Marlene chortles, “Guys- I-I-I-I’m…cutt-ing…ou-ou-ou-t.” She fakes it and it’s obvious, but the FaceTime ends and Sirius sits opposite you now. He’s pretty even at seven in the evening and it makes you very nervous. 

You stand up, uneased, and make towards your bedroom. 

“Where are you going?”

“Oh,” you gesture to an old pile of clothes, “Marlene cleaned her wardrobe out before she left, so I decided to follow suit so then we can donate them.”

“Why’re you leaving me?” he pouts. 

“You want to…stay?” 

You’re so puzzled and your heart is beating far too fast for your liking. It goes pitter patter like the rain outside. It’s exhausting. The feeling might be addictive, like a good old fashioned crush, but it’s always playing with you. It feels avaricious to love someone out of your league, worth more than you have ever been.

His sudden showering of affections and doting on you, you think, is because he’s lonely. He doesn’t live with James anymore. You empathise with him, but only because you think you’ll know what that feels like in a month when Dorcas and Marlene move in together. But it really isn’t. Sirius actually thinks that you deserve all the heavy-handed loving in the world, and he always has. His apprehension towards him being the person to do the loving is slowly fading away as he sees the shy smile on your face. 

“If you’ll have me.”

And you turn your head around so he doesn’t see you blush, “Okay, I’ve been meaning to get a second opinion. Whenever I do this I do it with Marlene.” 

You try things on by the mirror in your bedroom, instructing Sirius to look away when needed. He isn’t much of a help at all, because he thinks you look good in everything. Which is just certainly not true. 

On a whim, he suggests that because he isn’t aiding you successfully, you should help him on his own closet. In the end, you wind up in his apartment. 

Sirius has never boasted about what he has at all, mainly because he isn’t proud of it. By what unethical means his trust fund has come from, he doesn’t even want to know, but he’s grateful for it. You’ve only ever seen his living room, kitchen and his small powder room, and they’re lavish and capacious to no ends. Everything subtly screams wealth and luxury. His bedroom is no different. A large bed sits in the middle, framed by expensive paintings. There’s a well made ebony table in the corner, spotless and tidy. The two armchairs in the room are, whilst clearly faux-leather, intricate and of the sort of taste cultivated only by time. A copy of the original Call of the Wild sits on a table. A bookshelf is on one side of the room, grey, stretching from the floor to ceiling. You run your fingers along the spines of the book. They’re all special editions. A simple chandelier (what an oxymoron) dangles in the middle of the room, and you find the ceiling is gilded with plaster and gold. Pictures of friends and family adorn the white walls. 

His walk in closet is humongous. You gasp as he opens the door. It’s double the size of your living room. The clothes are organised by colour, style and season and there’s a considerable lack of colour. In the middle sits an accessory table, with dozens of gold watches and silver necklaces. Delicate rings and bracelets all are displayed. A glass cabinet with bottles of cologne and perfume stands next to it. The only ones you can recognise is something that resembles the Ralph Lauren logo and Dior, and then again it isn’t even the one Johnny Depp uses.

He smiles sheepishly, ashamed that he has such nice things, “I did use my own money on this. Euphemia helped me fix it up.”

“It’s beautiful, Sirius,” you’re almost afraid to touch anything. You don’t think you belong in such a gorgeous world. You don’t think you deserve it. 

Sirius beams at you, “Guess there’s not a difference between it and you, then.”

Your face warms. Sirius is already taking clothes off the racks, whilst you stand awkwardly. He’s chatting, talking about where the clothes came from and who gave them to him and why he likes it so much. Your shoulders relax and you look at him like he’s the only thing that matters. So far he’s through all the things he deems necessary for him to live. 

“And this jumper,” he holds up a pristine Ecru crewneck, offering it to you, “Is from when I went to visit Machu Picchu with James. When we left, one of the ladies we had been staying with gave us both a handmade jumper.”

You hold the fabric delicately in your hands. 

“It’s alright. It’s just clothes, darling, you can do whatever you like with them.”

He’s so nice it hurts and you grin at him endearingly, “Thanks, Sirius.”

An adoring smile finds its way onto his face as he turns to pick up the next item. You put the sweater in the “KEEP” pile. 

“How did this get here?” he laughs as he pulls out a bright yellow crewneck, with a little emblem etched on the side. Immediately he tugs it on, grinning as he surveys the bright colour in the mirror. 

You’re blushing away because the colour suits him so well and makes him look way softer than he usually does.

He sneaks a glance at you in the mirror, and when he sees your lack of eye contact with him he frowns. 

“Are you okay?” he asks you. 

“Yeah. Yellow looks really nice on you, Sirius.”

“Does it?”

“Mhm. I don’t know, it makes you look…cuddly?”

He doesn’t smirk like you expect him to, but swivels around and smiles at you again. He knows he looks like he loves you. He doesn’t mind. You’re just sitting there, confused at why he’s doing this. It’s weird and sudden and it’s definitely something he would do. 

Maybe this is his new favourite jumper. 

He throws it in the keep pile. You tut disapprovingly and rearrange it gently. Seeing a t-shirt, he takes his own shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. You cover your eyes, not wanting to intrude on his privacy. 

Sirius is midway through putting the shirt on when he laughs. “It’s okay, princess, I didn’t ask you to look away. I don’t mind. Unless you do, then I’ll change over there.”

You peek your eyes at him, and Sirius hopes that he’s not imagining your pupils blown slightly. 

And you didn’t think he could get more perfect, but he is. His muscles are toned and defined, and slightly strained as he slides his shirt on. Gosh, he makes you feel inadequate. He can’t know you want him, so you grin as if you’re unaffected. 

“That’s cute,” you nod. 

And the process repeats. Sometimes he takes off his pants too, leaving him to just his boxers that cling onto him in an ungodly way. 

“Are you done?” you ask, eyes covered tightly by your hand. 

“Yeah.”

Sirius is dressed in a suit, the tenth one tonight, “Do we like this one, or the grey one?”

“I like the way this one fits, but I like the grey colour more. But I think the dull dove blue one was the best because it brings out your eyes.”

Sirius makes a mental note to get the grey one altered. He chucks away some old sleeping tees, and a bunch of band hoodies he doesn’t wear anymore. He also gets rid of one of his expensive sweaters with a cable knit and a button up shirt, a bunch of sweatpants and this hideous sweater vest that his Aunt Thelma gifted him for his 17th birthday. 

He thinks maybe you might like to wear some of the things he has in his wardrobe–Euphemia picks them out with him and she represents a small portion of women. He lugs the bag of clothes to his car, and when he’s back, he sees you cross-legged on an armchair, typing on your phone. 

“Sweetheart, what do I owe you?” he asks. 

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him, “For what?” 

You put your phone down on the side table. 

“For helping me?”

“Nothing, Sirius, nothing at all. It’s my pleasure, really.”

“Do you want to take some of my clothes? I have more than enough.”

You look inquisitively at him, “You don’t mind?”

“‘Course not.”

You go home that night with two of his fancy jumpers, he insists, and one big button up shirt, and a bunch of other stuff he is adamant you should take too. You call Lily. Her voice comes out muffled on the other end. 

“Hey Lily!

“Mhm, I’m well, how are you?

“He’s not that bad, I’m sure. You do know he took your Women’s Weekly– 

“I’ve already done that quiz. 

“Right, well, I don’t think Sirius is fine, in his own right.

“No! As in the sad happy fine, not the cute handsome fine.

“Well- no- I- I don’t think he’s not fine- I mean - Okay whatever. Is he alright? He keeps on acting weird.

A long pause. 

“You know something, don’t you, Red? 

“It’s kind of strange. I mean, he offered for me to take one of his- I don’t know, the Ermenegildo Ze-

“Yes, that! One of those jumpers. 

“Are you sure? That’s what he is normally? Isn’t he usually bad-boy cool guy? Not dorky weird compliment giver? 

“Alright, fine. 

“Bye, love you!”

You survey the pile of clothes for any trace of a prank. Nothing. You take out one and inspect it suspiciously. Then, your intrusive thoughts get the better of you and you sniff the material carefully. It smells really nice. You chuck them in the wash just in case Sirius has popped one of his silly prank gadgets into the pockets or beneath the collar. 

The next time you see him, Lily has called you to tell you she and James are going to Vegas to join Marlene and Dorcas. They’re celebrating a championship. She invites you, but you decline, not liking the idea of tailing behind the two couples and intruding on the romantic atmosphere. Sirius is all alone, and Lily tells you to ‘please go and check up on him’.

The apartment seems okay. It’s spotless like it always is, smelling of air freshener and Sirius’ cologne. It doesn’t look like Sirius is going through something rough at all. Sirius might not even be home, so you’re about to leave when you hear music coming from a secluded area of the apartment. You sneak into the corridor and the door is ajar. A beautiful black grand piano stands, Sirius sitting at it, playing the finest tune you’ve ever heard. The sounds reverberate gently through the room, and it’s divine. It’s joyful and skips on merrily. His eyes are closed and his lips are turned up. It makes you think that maybe he’s thinking of someone. 

He stirs a little at the noise and you pull back. He gets up from his chair and peeks his head around the door. You’re wearing his jumper over some sweatpants. It’s so pretty on you, falling oversized. 

He laughs, which brings heat to your cheeks, “Do you want to come in?”

“You’ll let me?” you gasp, “But you don’t even let Dorcas come in, and she’s a cello-ist.”

“You’re special,” he winks and you blush. You must look like a motley of colours- florid and pink. But you don’t mind, he makes everyone nervous and you’re not special, which puts you at ease.

You perch on the cushy chair as he plays a lilting song. You hum, approving, “What’s the song called?”

“Love,” he says and you agree. The song plays like what love feels like. 

It’s so soft, and warm. Combined with Sirius’ lavender and honey cologne, it makes you drowsy. He notices your eyes are barely open, and instead of ending the song, continues to play the same melody over a lighter bass. When your breathing becomes steady, he quietly rises from the piano and scoops you up, knowing it can’t be comfortable to sleep in a chair. He carries you to his own room, where he tucks you into his bed. You’re murmuring unintelligible things. He leaves and continues playing, before Lily calls and he knows he should be in bed, because it’s morning in Las Vegas. Thus, he shuts his piano and drapes a soft velvet across it. He falls onto the couch and listening to Lily’s calming method to waking up, he falls asleep. 

In the morning, you’re in a vaguely familiar room. The sheets are silk and the ceiling is fancier than an art gallery’s. You yawn, stretching. The clock next to you detects the motion and flashes a dim white. Of course it’s an analogue clock, reading 5:00 am. You remember shutting your eyes slowly in the piano room, the news had been playing on the TV earlier. So you had fallen asleep at seven. 10 hours, more than enough. You quickly get up and make the bed. After using his fancy skincare products and brushing your teeth with a spare toothbrush you find packaged up, you hear soft snores coming from the living room. Sirius is there, phone by his side. 

You pout at how much of a gentleman he is, retrieving a blanket and carefully placing it on him. Then you prepare a smoothie, with the fourteen-million ingredients he has in his giant fridge, and leave it in there with a note. But Sirius wakes. He’s always been a light sleeper. 

He leans blearily over the couch, “Sweetheart?”

“Good morning!” you chirp. 

“Why do you have to be so gorgeous at five in the morning?” he slurs. You raise your eyebrows. He’s really always very flirty, and you’re used to it not being genuine by now. He sways out of bed and into the bathroom. You hear the running of a faucet, and sit down on a kitchen chair, checking your phone. Lily has blown it up. 

TO: REDHEAD

REDHEAD 7:31 p.m. sooo, how is he??

REDHEAD 7:43 p.m. hellooooo babes????

REDHEAD 8:00 p.m. are u ok ??

REDHEAD 8:05 p.m. ANSWER ANSWER ANSWER

REDHEAD 9:47 p.m. I’m calling sirius

REDHEAD 10:00 p.m. omg YES GO YOU OMG

5:30 a.m. what

5:30 a.m. he was playing the piano lils and i fell asleep 

REDHEAD 5:31 a.m. ok keep telling urself that <3 i mean has he ever let us sit in when we asked???

5:32 a.m. i told u he was acting strange 

You grin as you see some of the videos she has sent you. One is where James and her and celebrating, him beaming like he always does. She looks madly in love with him. You screenshot and send it to your email so you can print it out later. There’s another of Marlene and Dorcas doing the spaghetti thing at a Michelin star restaurant. They look as if they’re having a wonderful time. It makes you realise that you’re craving something like that too, only not in the wild world of Vegas. You already have something like it, but it’s so one-sided and your heart can’t stand it. You wish someone would just, dote on you. And genuinely, because there’s no way Sirius Black means it. 

You express these feelings to Marlene when she’s back, moving boxes and taping things up. 

“I want to love someone, Marls. Who loves me back, so don’t even say Sirius.”

“He doesn’t act like that around everyone else, you know.”

“He does! Besides, what makes me so special, Marlene? He could have anyone.”

She laughs, “Oh goodness have you got a lot to learn.”

–

Marlene and Dorcas invite you to their housewarming party in their house. They say it’s perfect for a family and they want to start one whilst they’re young. It’s quite a large gathering for a housewarming party, and the inside is buzzing with excitement. You’re talking to some of their colleagues- Alice and her boyfriend Frank on the couch. 

“And we’re planning a trip to Ibiza for next month,” she blinks up at him lovingly and he does the same. It makes you subtly raise your phone as if you’re getting a message and type, before quickly flashing a photo of them whilst they’re gazing into each other’s eyes. 

Sirius spots you grinning away, like you want what Alice and Frank have. He sidles in next to you.

“Hey darling,” he smiles and you smile back, “Hi.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Alice asks. 

“Oh of course! I thought you would already know him,” you put down your drink, “Alice, this is Sirius. Sirius, Alice. Frank, Sirius. Sirius, Frank. They’re planning a trip to Ibiza and were voted Best Couple in high school.” 

They’re both intimidated by Sirius, you can tell, but Sirius smiles, “Nice to meet you Alice and Frank. How long have you been together?”

They cheesily smile at each other, “Seven years and going strong,” Alice flashes her wedding ring. 

Marlene calls you over to the kitchen island, where she is mixing drinks up, “Hey darl!” 

“Sup, Marls.”

“Need a drink?”

“Just pink lemonade,” you hold out your cup. A boy comes around the table, smiling at you. Marlene smirks a little. 

“Y/n, this is CJ. He’s a footballer, and a damn good one.”

You grin, outstretching your hand, “Hi CJ, nice to meet you.”

He shakes it heartily, “Likewise.”

“What team do you play for?”

“Oh, just a local one,” he rubs his neck bashfully, “I’m not that good.” 

CJ, whatever it stands for, is handsome, with bright green eyes and curly brown hair. He’s sweet too and has this shy air around him that’s impossibly good natured. He’s Emmeline’s to-be lover.

“Try me.”

“Liverpool,” he says meekly. 

“Oh, you’re the Cruz Johnson! How’s football for a living?”

“It’s great, actually,” he chuckles, dipping his head to whisper secretly into your ear, “Though this beer is actually some recovery drink, so could be better.”

You laugh. 

He grins as he takes a sip and makes a funny face, “So what do you do?”

You tell him and he nods, “Impressive indeed. How’d you meet Marls here?”

“She and I were classmates! I wore her down eventually, she used to hate friendship.”

“Oh tell me about it. I met her at the football club, where she was playing for the ladies’ team. And the first time the coach tried to congratulate her she just rolled her eyes. He was filthy.”

“Oh?” your eyes are sparkling with mischief. 

“When he dislocated his cheekbone a few weeks later, she told him she could ski on them if she tried. Anyway.”

You purse your lips in amusement, “Am I allowed to laugh at that?”

“He looked like this,” Cruz makes a face and you giggle. 

Sirius is watching this all with a very sour look on his face, feeling very jealous. 

Cruz takes another sip of his drink, “So, who are you here with?”

You’re confused, “No one? I mean, unless you count Marlene, but she’s with Dorcas. And my friend Emmeline too.”

At the mention of Emmeline’s name, his eyes light up, “About her…”

“She’s single and she does like green eyes,” you pull him near the wily, tall Emmeline, who blushes shyly as she sees Cruz, “Besides, I think she has a thing for you. Ever since, you know, you crashed into her and spilled your coffee on her favourite shirt,” you joke. 

He blushes, “Gosh, you still remember that? Will you send me the name of the shirt so I can buy her five more? I know I already replaced hers but I still feel so bad.”

“Awh. That’s very nice of you, Cruz. Here,” you hand him your phone, “What’s your number?”

Sirius is watching you, hands tense around his cup. He decides to go up to you. 

“Hey darling,” he says lowly into your ear, making you jump and your cheeks heat up.

“Sirius!” you berate. Cruz is watching with a knowing smile as he hands your phone back. You quickly text him, “Okay, sent it.”

The two guys are sizing each other up. You can sense their hostility.

“Now, boys, be friendly. Cruz, do not worry, Sirius is only friends with Emmeline, and Sirius, don’t worry, Cruz won’t try to pick up Regulus.”

You feel both of them relax. Cruz grins at Sirius, “Nice to finally meet you, man.”

“You too!”

“And don’t worry, I don’t have feelings for her either.”

You’re silently eavesdropping on the conversation whilst texting Emmeline. You sneak a look at Sirius, who has an unnatural pink on his porcelain skin. 

“C’mon green-eyes, aren’t I obvious about it?”

Cruz agrees, “Too much so.”

“Anyway, I’ll let you get to Emmeline, Cruz.”

He stumbles, grins at you and waves at the same time, “Thanks, mate.” 

“No problems.”

You watch as he goes and makes a fool of himself in front of Emmeline, who likes it. You turn to Sirius, eyes still watching them. You’re still painstakingly lonely. Tonight you think you’ve third-wheeled at least three couples, and set up two. Even though Sirius is there, he’s just a constant reminder of what you can’t have. 

Sirius can see it in your eyes. He doesn’t know how much more he needs to do. Lily wants to know though. 

“Soooo, lovely,” she begins and you narrow your eyes at her. 

“I swear I didn’t take your cookie cutters and destroy them whilst trying to make clay sculptures with Emmeline and Cruz,” you put your hands up. Lily raises her brows and you murmur a quiet, “Oh no.” 

“My cookie cutters that you gave me?!” she yells. 

“It’s fine, I’ll get you new ones.”

She sighs, “Right. Anyway, Sirius Black.”

“Sirius Black,” you say slowly.

“Mhm. Are you ever going to tell him you like him?”

“No, I don’t even like him.” 

“You don’t?” Lily feigns surprise.

“Nope.”

“Is he cute?”

“Yeah.” 

“Is he nice?”

“Yeah.”

“Well?”

“He doesn’t like me like that, Lils,” you scold. 

“Why does he call you ‘darling’ then? He has to.”

“If he did, that would be embarrassing for him. Gosh knows he’s too good for me. If he likes me, I would question why because he could probably do better,” you shrug, “I’m confident, but not completely blind.” 

“Okay. So if he liked you, you would want to date him?”

You reply meekly, “Yeah.”

“I think you should tell him, though,” Lily sighs, “Better you than anyone else doing it.”

You ponder for a moment, “True,” you sigh, “He’ll be nice about it.”

Lily squeals, “I’m planning your wedding!!!” 

You knock on his apartment door, reconsidering for the last time whether you want to do it or not. 

Sirius opens the door, looking confused and handsome, eyes bluer than usual. 

“Hi,” you breathe. 

“Gorgeous, to what do I owe this sudden visit?”

“I just wanted to see you.”

“Really?” his eyes are glistening. 

“Yeah.” 

“Come in then. Mind the mess, taxes.”

You hum, “Need help?”

“Actually, yeah. Should I write off…”

You sit down, distracted by the papers flying everywhere, taking a pen and starting to write. Your mission is almost forgotten after you finish helping him with his taxes, smiling satisfiedly at the hefty return he receives. 

“Good,” you grin, admiring your work, “I’d say this is a successful tax file.” He swipes his tongue over his teeth, so attractively and seals the envelope, setting it down on his stack of things he needs to post. 

“Package to Marlene and Dorcas, papers to…” he rambles, pacing out his thoughts, “Oh, and my portfolio. Can you check if they’re alright to send in?”

“Portfolio?” 

“Oh,” he turns red, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, “Someone asked me to model for them?”

“When?” you gasp. He hands you the envelope, and you carefully pry out some photos. 

“A week ago,” he murmurs, “Can you check these aren’t too…much?”

They’re glossy between your fingers and smooth, candid shots, some staged and every single one of them belongs on the cover of Vogue. It’s strange, the pictures of Sirius should be in a magazine, famed and lovely, but he’s right here. Nervously fidgeting around. He’s so tangible right now. You reach out to skim your fingers over the photos, then stretch them out to touch the skin near his lips. He’s taken aback but leans into your touch.

“I think they’re perfect,” you fold the envelope over, handing it back to him. 

He’s still looking incredibly ashamed of himself.

“Why do you look so sheepish?” you laugh, “Stop that! It’s alright.” You surge to hug him, “It’s amazing, Sirius.”

Sirius hides his face in your neck, “I feel like a show-off,” he mumbles and you laugh. 

“Sirius, it’s honestly alright. You’re not, far from it actually. It’s okay to have nice things.”

“I’m sorry. I’m being a wimp.”

“It’s fine, I understand. These feelings are completely normal, but that doesn’t mean they’re true. If I had a staggering net worth of a few hundred million and never told you, would you think I’m a show-off?”

He shook his head. 

“Exactly,” you smile at him, “Now do you want to go to the post office? It closes in half an hour.”

He nods, “‘Kay.”

The post office man greets him with some flirting, and he sets down his stack of parcels, ignoring him to go sign some of them. 

He looks over to you, “You’re his…” he studies your face, “friend?”

It makes you feel small and judged. You chew nervously on your lip, unconsciously stepping towards Sirius. You know you couldn’t possibly pass off as his girlfriend, but it’s an ugly reminder you don’t need. Sirius smiles politely, “These three are in a letter card, but can we get them to be delivered…”

After he pays, you try not to make it seem like you’re in a rush to get out. He notices, of course he does. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he say to you?”

You stay quiet and Sirius does too. He drives to his apartment and sits down on his couch. You follow. He’s silent. 

“He said something about us,” you break the fragile silence, “About me.”

“What?” 

“Well he looked at me and then asked if I was your friend after giving me a once-over.”

Sirius shrugs, “Aren’t you?”  

Your heart falls, “Well–. The thing is–, look, I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but I kind of– scratch that, I have this massive crush on you and probably more,” you wince, “Please be nice about this.”

He looks positively shocked. You can’t tell if it’s good shock or bad shock. 

You grimace, “And please can we stay friends?”

“You think I’m rejecting you?” he almost scoffs, lifting you easily into his lap. He’s so close you could count the colours in his eyes. A charcoal, a light cerulean, a tinge of yellow ochre, “After all my countless advances, the gifts, even inviting you into my piano room whilst I played, I couldn’t, sweetheart,” he says softly. 

“Haven’t you noticed I haven’t ever dated anyone since two years back? That I pretty much have been begging to be noticed by you these past years,” he continues, “All because I want to be yours. Because I couldn’t even think of wanting anyone else. I like you so much.”

“Hey Sirius?”

“Mm?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did.”

You huff, “Can I kiss you?”

Before you can do anything, he’s grinning as he presses his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. When you break apart, he's still grinning. He thinks he will be for the rest of his life.

“Whoa,” you say as you grin at him. 

He hugs you tightly, “Please never say we should be friends again.”

You nod, “Never.” 

[krispdreemurr]

At first, she's not sure she's even hearing the notes.

They're distant and quiet. Even with her earbuds out, she has to strain to hear anything at all. The notes keep faltering before she can be sure what she's listening to.

She sets aside her notebook and moves out into the hall.

As she starts the walk to the dining room, she can hear them more clearly. It's definitely the piano in the side room, she's sure on that now. But the song...

The song is just the first few notes and chords, again and again, played clumsily and haltingly. There's jarring dissonant edges, and the rhythm is unsteady.

If the tune weren't so familiar, she'd have no idea at all.

(In front of her, or with family, they'd play things she knew - classical music, adaptations of songs from video games or Asriel's anime, more than a few Rickrolls.)

(It was only when they were alone that they'd play the same few songs, simpler melodies that she never heard anywhere else before or after.)

She reaches the doorway, gazing in through the open door.

The room is dimly lit, the moonlight through the windows providing most of the illumination. They're framed against an open window, a silhouette bent over the piano. She watches, silent, as they drag their hand down the keys, press down too hard and get a jarring burst of sound.

She remembers how they used to play. Fluid, graceful. It was the only time she ever really saw them comfortable in their own skin.

That's gone, now.

"Kris...?" she asks softly, stepping through the door.

The next part, at least, is familiar. They stare at her, wide-eyed, looking half-panicked. Hands frozen.

Despite herself, she tries to smile, glancing at the open window. "You know, I'm pretty sure dad gave you a spare key."

They stare a moment more, then laugh, hoarse and tired. Some of the tension bleeds. "Yeah, but breaking in through the window is cooler."

"You're just lucky I forgot how to set up the alarm system..." She steps closer, hooves clicking on hardwood. "It's one AM, Kris. Why are you here? Not that, um, you can't visit, just--"

There's a long silence, where they just stare at their hands on the keys. They're shaking, she realizes.

"Sorry," they say finally. "It was a stupid idea. I just--miss it. And the hospital is closed to visitors. I just wanted to, to at least try... Even if I know I can't any more, not like this." Another ragged laugh. This one has less humor. "Sorry. I'll go."

She looks at them a few moments more.

Maybe she should push more. Ask them what they mean by "like this", demand explanations for why they've been so weird lately, reprimand them for breaking in. She remembers them nine years old and coughing without end, begging her not to tell their mom and dad. She remembers how they drew away in the days after the accident, and how quiet they've been ever since. She knows they shut down, hide, conceal themself. She knows.

But she's tired too, and if she pushes they'll run, and she's lost so much already.

"Can I listen?" she says instead.

They blink, once, then shrug. "Sure, yeah... You wanna sit outside like old times? Think I can handle an audience for the world's worst concert, but..."

"No, I'd rather stay." She goes to settle down in the corner, folding her legs. "I never got to see you play much back then."

"Well, you're not going to see much today," they say dryly.

Their fingers linger a moment more, shuffling uncertainly and stiffly, trying to find purchase--

And then they play.

It's still halting and awkward, marred by misplaced notes and stilted pauses. It's nothing like it was, back when they were something not quite like friends and not quite like family.

But still, still--

Still she closes her eyes, and she listens once again.