#and then my well meaning peers are like ‘embrace them!’

[bereft-of-frogs]

I had a dream I dyed my hair green.

[aemondsbabe]

Ñuha Zaldrīzes

summary: future & facesitting || discussing wishes for your baby with your husband turns into something more

pairing: daemon targaryen x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, pregnant reader, oral sex (f receiving), allusions to piv sex, dirty talk, daemon being soft and loving we love to see it, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy day eight of 12 days of smuff!!! surely this counts as future otherwise i'd have them fucking in a spaceship & that just didn't sit right with me

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @pedropcl

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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A soft giggle bursts from your lips as Daemon’s hand skirts over your large belly yet again, his soft touches tickling your skin as his hand ghosts lovingly over your bump, the delicate lacy fabric of your nightgown bunched around his wrist. 

“Okay, okay, so,” you say breathily, finally calming down as his touch seems to settle on your hip, “If it’s a little girl, perhaps Vaenera? And for a little boy… Vaenor?” You suggest, your breath warm against the prince’s neck as you rest your cheek against his shoulder, tucked safely into his side atop your silk covered bed. 

“I still think we should name her Visenya,” the blond drawls, tracing soothing patterns into your hip as he holds you against him, “With a nice strong name like that, she will grow to greatness.” 

You stay silent for a moment, your eyes locked onto the fluid movements of the sheer curtains that lead out onto the balcony, watching as they blow in the breeze carried in by the Narrow Sea. Daemon can’t help but notice you still against him and he smiles softly when he sees that familiar, far off look in your eyes – always his dreamer.

“Where did you go?” He asks gently, all traces of the usual brash, cocky tone with which he speaks gone. 

“Nowhere,” you smile, tilting your head up to peer at him through your lashes, “I was merely thinking of what kind of person this little one will grow up to be.” You stroke a hand over your belly as you speak, your smile only growing as you feel a soft, barely there kick against your palm. 

“If they’re even half as kind and gentle as their mother, the world will be a much better place with them in it,” your husband whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. A pink blush blooms across the apples of your cheeks, as it always does when he speaks so tenderly. 

“And if they’re half as hard headed as their father, well… somehow, I will love them all the more,” you whisper, laughing yet again as Daemon trails his fingers over your side, tickling you purposefully this time.

“Me, hard headed?” He teases, laughing along with you, “I’m not the one that nearly sent the kitchens into a tailspin this evening when they demanded duck, now am I?” His violet eyes sparkled in the low light of the candles that flickered around the room, a teasing smirk etched across his face.

“That’s very unfair!” You giggle, leaning up to properly look at him. “You know how I am when I’m with child,” you huff, your blush only deepening when you see his eyes darken just slightly as his gaze flits over you, “Especially once it’s this far along; all I want is roast duck and–”

“And lemon cakes at every meal,” Daemon finishes for you, softly smiling, “Yes, sweetling, the entire castle is most aware.” He chuckles. 

“Then the kitchens should know to have duck, that’s all I’m saying…” You grumble, sinking back down into his embrace. The two of you relax into a comfortable silence for many minutes, your husband’s breathing so steady and calm that you assume he’s fallen asleep. When he speaks again, his soft voice almost startles you.

“The kitchens did particularly well with the lemon cakes this evening…”

Your eyebrows furrow together at the statement and you lift your head again, meaning to give him a confused stare. The cakes were exceptionally good this evening, but you can’t help but notice the teasing lilt in his voice.

You open your mouth to speak, but the darkness in Daemon’s eyes gives you pause, a breathy, barely audible whimper escaping your lips before you have a chance to stop it.

“However, I can’t help but be in the mood for a much different type of dessert, little wife.” He says lowly, gently pulling you up until your faces are level, careful to be ever conscious of your growing stomach. 

“Daemon –” You start, only to be cut off with a searing kiss as he presses his lips to yours. You whimper against his lips, your head already spinning in his embrace as his tongue toys with yours.

“It’s been so long,” he starts, trailing kisses down your jaw and neck, nibbling at one spot that always has you seeing stars, “Since you’ve let me have what I want.”

“H-Husband,” you gasp breathlessly, your nails digging helplessly into his chest as you cling to him, “You had me just this, Gods, this morning for breakfast, if you’ll recall.” You managed to say between whimpers and gasps as he practically feasted on the sensitive spot on your neck, his hands softly kneading and caressing your breasts. 

He makes a small, displeased hum before he pulls back to look at you, his dark eyes studying you carefully before a small smirk grows on his lips, “You know very well that’s not what I’m after.”

Your eyes widen just slightly as you finally catch his meaning; you shake your head with a small chuckle. “Surely you can’t be serious,” your smile fades as he holds your stare with a small, unchanging smirk, “Daemon, I’ll crush you!”

“And what an honorable death that would be, sweet wife,” he chuckles, his hands firmly grasping your hips as he lifts you up and onto his lap, your head spins as you feel his already hard length pressing against you through the thin linen breeches he has on, “I’ll be fine, it’s not as if this is exactly new territory for us…” He teases, gently skirting his hands over your belly. 

“We’ve never done it when I’ve been… like this, though,” you shyly point out, looking down at your bump. 

“Do you really not see how insatiable I become every time you’re with child?” Daemon asks, his voice soft and gentle, “I will only ever have you like this a scant few times. Please, sweetling, let me savor it.”

Biting your lip, you gaze down at him, eyes trailing across his bare chest and shoulders and up the strong column of his neck before they finally settle on his face – the look in his eyes nearly making you gasp. His violet eyes are fixed on you, roaming over your body with so much love and adoration that you feel as if you may melt from it. 

Before you even register the movement, you’re nodding. 

Daemon’s eyes instantly flick up to yours, sparkling with victory. His hands grip your hips again, gently guiding you up his muscular form as he silently thanks the Seven that you wear nothing beneath your Myrish lace nightgowns. A loud groan practically bursts from the prince’s chest once you’re positioned over his face; he loves being surrounded by you — loves the way your soft thighs bracket his head, the way you position your dripping center perfectly over his mouth, and the way the only thing he sees when he looks up is your belly, swollen with his seed, his child. 

If it were up to Daemon, he would happily spend the rest of his days here. 

Your chest heaves as you grip the headboard of the bed, your heart hammering in your chest from the anticipation of it. You whimper softly as his hands, rough from so many years of sword fighting and dragon riding, grab at your thighs and hips. 

He presses soft, sweet kisses to the inside of your thighs before licking a slow, steady line up your center; you can feel him smirk triumphantly against you as moans and whimpers spill from your lips. 

“Oh, Gods, Daemon!” You gasp, voice already ragged as you white-knuckle the headboard. Your thighs tremble with the effort of holding yourself even a fraction of an inch above your husband’s face, something he notices quite quickly. A displeased growl rumbles from his chest, making you pant as it vibrates against your core.

“Fucking sit,” Daemon rasps, tugging you against his mouth, his tongue roughly spearing into you as he grinds your pearl against his nose, hands moving your hips against his face. 

Your mind all but whites out as he rocks you against him, nose and tongue working in perfect tandem to send shivers down your spine. Your eyes squeeze shut, frantic moans pouring from your mouth as a fire steadily builds within you. 

“H-Husband,” you pant, walls clenching tightly around his tongue as he groans into your heat, “I— Fuck, I’m—!” You can hardly get the words out as Daemon seals his lips around your sensitive bud, suckling it at a maddening pace as his hands move down to cup your ass, kneading it roughly. 

Your face flushes at the slick sounds pouring from between your thighs as the prince growls against you, sounding as if he’s gaining as much satisfaction as you are. Your core clenches at the thought, pleasure threatening to consume you. 

“Daemon!” You cry urgently, shaking above him, a thin sheen of sweat covering your body. You want so badly to thread your fingers through his hair as you normally would, but you can’t even see his face around your protruding belly. 

He groans loudly beneath you once more and fucks his tongue back into you, causing the knot in your belly to pull tightly before finally unraveling. Sparks burst behind your eyelids, your back arching as your whole body tenses and relaxes in time with his movements. 

The prince moans appreciatively, messily drinking down your pleasure as you peak on top of him. You jump when one of his hands smacks against your ass, the tingling sting extending your release, the intensity of it nearly making you go mad. 

Finally, once your signs of relief have turned into whimpers of overstimulation, Daemon releases you with a pleased hum, helping you shuffle back down his body until you’re straddling his hips once again. 

You laugh softly at the sight of him — his cheeks flushed a light pink, hair sticking up at odd angles, and a pleased, self-satisfied grin on his face. 

“You look as if you were the one who was ravished, my dragon,” you tease, your heart rate slowly returning to normal as you trace over the muscular dips in his chest and stomach.

The prince chuckles lowly, his violet eyes still dark with lust as he takes in your curves. “Ravishing you is a pleasure in and of itself, sweet wife,” he drawls, smirking as you gasp at the feel of his cock against your sensitive core as he rolls his hips against you, “I trust you’ll allow me to feel it again?” He asks, that all too familiar cocky tone back, as if asking is merely a formality. 

Sighing happily, you bite your lip as you stare down at him, the knot in your belly beginning to tighten again as you feel his length pressing hotly to you. 

“I believe that can be arranged.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[edenesth]

[12:58 PM]

"Well, how does it taste?"

Peering through the doorway, you tried not to make a sound as your boyfriend's mother asked, her eyes gleaming with affection, watching as her son, who was finally back home after a lengthy absence, enthusiastically savoured the homemade delicacies before him.

"It's good, as always!" San answered between bites, "Though, I must admit, it's got a slightly different flavour today. Not bad, just different," His mother bit back a grin as she sent a wink in your direction before he continued, "It's got that strong taste of the herb my girlfriend always adds to her dishes."

With a light chuckle, Mrs. Choi inquired, "So, whose version do you prefer then? Mine or your girlfriend's?" He glanced up at her with a puzzled expression, "What do you mean? Didn't you prepare this?"

She shook her head, a cheeky smile on her lips, "Nope, I was lucky to have a very helpful apprentice who volunteered to cook today while your lazy ass slept in."

His chewing halted momentarily as he blinked, straightening up in his seat, "W-wait, you mean—"

Before he could finish, you interpreted his mother's nod as your cue to make your entrance, "Surprise!" You exclaimed, swinging open the door to his parents' room and skipping toward them.

Mrs. Choi cooed as she enveloped you in a hug, "This is my lovely assistant for the day. How did you enjoy her cooking?"

As he took in your presence and processed the fact that you were really here, he crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, "Babe, did you lie to me? I thought you said you were too busy to come to Namhae with me."

"You ungrateful brat!" He yelped when his mother smacked him on the shoulder, "Is that all you have to say to your girlfriend after she took an emergency leave from work just to rush over here so she could surprise you and spend some time with us?"

His eyes widened in realisation, guilt flooding over him for immediately accusing you of lying to him. Jumping up from his seat, he hurried over to you, ready to beg for forgiveness if necessary, "Oh my gosh, you did? I'm so sorry, babe!"

While he tried to embrace you, Mrs. Choi shot him a stern glare, "You better be! Otherwise, I'll take her with me today to meet my friends, and you can spend the rest of the day alone at home!"

You snickered as he cowered behind you, attempting to use you as a shield, "I was wrong, eomma! I'll treat her well, please don't take her away from me!"

With a scoff, she nodded at the food, signalling for him to finish his meal, "You can start by polishing off what she made." Seeing her preparing to leave home, intending to grant you two some alone time before the family dinner scheduled for later in the evening, you moved to help her gather her belongings.

"Bye, eomma! Have fun with your friends! We'll see you, appa, and noona tonight!" He called out from the dining table, bowing his head in shame when she responded with a hand gesture indicating she would be keeping an eye on him.

"Don't worry about us, aunty. I'll keep him in line," You whispered to her as she slipped on her shoes. She giggled, giving your arm a squeeze, "Good, let me know if he does anything to upset you. I'll straighten him out."

You couldn't contain your laughter when you came back to find him sulking while doing the dishes. Snaking your arms around his waist from behind, you nestled your cheek against his broad shoulder, "What's wrong, Sannie? Aren't you glad I'm here?"

He pouted as he set the clean utensils aside to dry, "Seems like you've already had my mother wrapped around your little finger, huh? I swear, she loves you more than she loves me now."

"If you want her undivided attention, I can leave." You teased.

Before you could pull away, he panicked and spun around to hold you tightly, "N-no, please don't go!" He pleaded, burying his face in your neck, "I was just playing with you, babe. I missed you like crazy. I'm so glad you're here, and seeing you bond with my family means the world to me."

You melted at his words, tightening your embrace, "I know, Sannie. I was just playing with you too."

He couldn't resist moving in to capture your lips in a deep kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut as you kissed him back just as fervently. Pulling back slightly, he murmured against your lips, "Well, instead of playing with my feelings, why don't you play with something else?"

Gasping loudly, your cheeks flushed red at the implication, "Wh-what are you suggesting, Choi San?! This is your family's house, it wouldn't be appropriate—"

He burst into laughter, pecking you on the head, "What were you thinking, babe? I was just talking about Byeol. We haven't been here in so long, I'm sure she misses us. Don't you want to play with her?"

Only then did you recall the presence of his cat, and you turned over your shoulder to find her staring curiously at you and her owner, "R-right, of course. I missed her too."

He cupped your face, urging you to meet his gaze, and grinned slyly, "But you know, if you have other ideas, I'm sure we can—"

"No, stop it, we won't!" You squealed, flustered, pushing him away and rushing over to cover the cat's innocent ears from whatever suggestive remark your boyfriend was about to make.

Gently stroking Byeol's black fur, you cooed down at her, "Don't pay attention to your oppa and his filthy mouth, hm? Unnie will shield you from him," When the adorable creature affectionately mewed and nestled into your hands, you turned to playfully tease him, "See, she already loves me more than she loves you."

Rather than feeling envious, your boyfriend's heart swelled with warmth and love at the sight. It was at this moment that he realised you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

ATEEZ Masterlist | My Pookie's Version

Y'all, the way my hand itched the second I saw San's IG update asdfghjkl I just had to write this! My bestie and I both decided to write our own versions of scenarios inspired by these photos. Do check out her version!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @cereal-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[dandelions4us]

Party’s Over

Regina George x Reader Summary: Where Regina ends her own party for her cramping lover Words: 1,1k A/N: Is it noticeable I’m having period cramps and need some comfort from the prettiest (and meanest) queen bee of all? I hope not

As the night went on, Y/N couldn’t believe how many more people could crash into her girlfriend’s party. To say the house was full would be an understatement. She sipped on her solo cup, something she could not pinpoint, even if her life depended on it, and searched for Regina with her eyes.

Spotting the blonde head among the croud was easy, though, she could recognize the girl with her eyes closed. She was talking with some people, standing confident in her beautiful maroon dress – it hugged her soft curves perfectly –, her signature smirk adorning her crimson lips and she gently flipped her hair off her shoulder.

Y/N smiled to herself, feeling lucky to have such a wonderful girlfriend. But it faltered quickly as she felt the pressure she knew way too well right at the bottom of her belly. It wasn’t surprising, giving the ache she felt on her lower back since the moment she woke up.

“Fuck.” She mumbles, walking off towards a bathroom to make sure she didn’t just start her period. She didn’t, which was good, as she sighs in relief. Washing her hands and splashing a bit of cold water on her neck, she embraces herself ready to play it cool for a few more hours, not wanting to ruin the party for her girl.

“Hey, I was looking for you. Everything ok?” Regina asks when she finds her, hands gingerly resting or her waist. “Yeah, I’m good. Just went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit.” Y/N smiles, placing her own hands on the blonde’s shoulders.

“Good. Come here, I have a few people I’d like to introduce you.” She responds, kissing her girlfriend quickly before pulling her by the hand to a small group of peers.

To be honest, Y/N did a fairly good job of play pretend for two hours, but it was starting to get to her. The cramps were just getting stronger, making her whole body achy and tense. But she kept her facade as better as she could, not willing to spoil Regina’s fun, knowing she would drop everything to make sure she was fine.

They were now sitting outside by the pool, an array of chairs and couches, talking animatedly with everyone else. I mean, most likely Regina talked and Y/N just agreed and nodded along, smiling every now and then.

When a strong cramp came, she scrunched her face and pressed on the pillow covering her stomach. The blonde must have felt how her body tensed under the hand she had on her girlfriend’s thighs ‘cause she turned her head, a concerned look on her eyes as she looked in hers.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She whispered, her thumb caressing soft shapes where it rested. “It’s nothing, don’t worry.” Y/N tried reassuring, but it wasn’t as convencing as the previous times. Sensing her discomfort, Regina excuses both of them and walks away to a more secluded area, hand now on the small of her partner’s back.

“Wanna try again and tell me what’s bothering you?” She asks softly, looking down with honeyed eyes. Y/N sighs and relents. “It’s just cramps. I have them a few days before my period also. Nothing too bad, I promise.” Right after she ends her sentence, another wave of piercing pain stabs at her womb, making her fold and frown.

“Oh, I can see that.” Her girlfriend says, sarcastically, but sighs, concerned. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would’ve got you some painkillers and a hot water bottle, maybe also put you to bed.” “Thay’s exactly why.” She furrows her eyebrowns, confused. “I didn’t want you to step out of your own party just to take care of me.”

“That’s nonsense. Baby, I would drop everything to take care of you, gladly.” She takes the shorter girl’s cheek on her hands, soft but firm, to prove her point. “You’re my girlfriend and I love you. Of course taking care of you and making sure you’re ok is my priority. Not some silly party that wouldn’t be as joyful if you weren’t with me, ok?”

Y/N couldn’t help but tear up a bit, but she blamed her hormones. “Okay.” She agreed quietly. Regina smiles, leaning in for a brief but passionate kiss, trying to show all of her love and care through it.

“Now, come on, let’s get you upstairs. Somewhere quieter and confier.” And holding hands, they both walk up Regina’s room. She sat her girlfriend in her bed and then rummages through her closet for comfortable clothes she could wear.

“Here, love. Change into these while I go downstairs to grab you some medicine and put an end to the noise.” She hands her the pile of clothes. “You don't have to end the party just because of me, Gina. I can rest just fine.” She frowns. “Don’t be silly. I’m coming back to cuddle you so there’s no reason to keep randos in my house. So stay put, I’ll be right back.”

She leaves, closing the door and Y/N can’t help but smile like a school girl over her affectionate lover. She changes clothes, relaxing breathing Regina’s perfume on them. She also puts a pad on, just in case her period comes while she sleeps – she’d die of embarrassement if she bleeds on her girl’s bed.

The noise disappears quickly, Y/N can hear the commotion of people leaving and a faint voice of her girlfriend shouting. In about ten minutes, she returns, bearing meds, water and snacks.

“I have no idea where my mom put our water bag and my heating pad broke, so I’m sorry.” “Gina, it’s okay! This is more than I could ask for, thank you.” “Only the best for my baby.” She smiles and walks over to the bed, giving her partner a few pills and the water.

The hurting girl drinks half the water bottle and nibs on the snacks so her stomach wouldn’t be so upset because of the meds and alcohol she consumed.

“There you go. You should rest now. I’m sure you'll be feeling better tomorrow.” She fluff the pillows and covers her sweet girl with the thick duvet before climbing in bed herself (now in her sleep attire).

She scooches closer, tangling their legs as she holds her tight against her chest, kissing her head lovingly.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Gina.” Y/N whispers, face nuzzling oh the blonde’s neck. “Of course, baby. You don’t even have to thank me. I’d do it over and over again, just for you.” She responds, one hand scratching her girlfriend’s scalp while the other held her as close as possible.

“I love you.” Y/N says, feeling relaxed, loved and safe. “I love you, too, princess. Sleep tight, I’ll be here when you wake up.” Regina whispers, kissing her temple tenderly.

And just like that, they both fell asleep in each other’s arms, secured in a cocoon built with pure love and care.

A/N: I had to take matters into my own hands. I could not go any longer without more fanfictions of my favorite blonde. Hope you guys liked it! <3

[bettysupremacy]

maybe reader has some mean fake friends and james comforts her after something happens?

james saves his pretty girl from some mean girls!

“C’mon, baby, I know that’s cold.” James frowns as he tugs your top up. It’s wet, and embarrassing, but you don’t move.

Coke and vodka drip down your elbows, staining the pretty white fabric of your new top, and most notably, your pride. It’s a gross reminder that those girls aren’t your friends, they’ve never been your friends, and they’ll never want to be.

Tears well in your eyes, embarrassment mixed with shame. Girls could be so mean.

James takes a moment.

He’s seen you cry- believe him, but this felt worse. Worse than him walking in on panic induced tears. This was heavier, and more delicate by far.

“C’mon” he breathes again, his shoulders slumped. It’s impatient, but not unkind. James doesn’t have an unkind bone in his body, he just doesn’t know what do do.

You shake your head, eyes squeezing shut, letting the tears drip down your cheeks.

“My love.” He laments, taking you in his arms. “Please don’t cry.”

The embrace is a warm reminder that james is always there for you. Always has been. Who cares if some mean girls ruined your new favorite shirt?

You had other friends anyways, James thought, you didn’t need those girls. Mary, Marlene, Lily, and Dorcus, had never been unkind to you. He didn’t understand why you wanted the other girls to like you so deeply.

But he’s never been a girl, and he recognizes this morosely.

He pulls away, knocking the tears with his knuckles, and not bothering to wipe them on his shirt. “Arms up.”

You can hear Sirius and Remus kicking the girls out over the loud crowd of a rowdy party. Your lip wobbles, so early into the party and the funs been spoiled. “None of that.” James smooths the wrinkle in your chin with his thumb.

The silence following the splash of liquid had been deafening, and by far the most humiliating thing you’ve ever experienced.

You take a peak at your shirt. It’s brownish, and wet, and It’s worse than you remember it being 4 minutes ago. Is that possible? The heels of your palms come up to your eyes. “My top.” You grieve.

“I’ll get you a new one, don’t worry your head off.” He tugs on your shirt again, gentle, but it gets your attention nonetheless. “Arms up.” He whispers.

You lift them, letting James tug the shirt off and wipe down your wet arms before throwing it into the garbage pail next to the toilet. It sits on a mountain of tissue and Remus’s used contacts. You look at it hopelessly, wiping your palms of tears. “I don’t want a new one.”

He shrugs off his zip up, messily pulling it onto you and zipping it to your shoulders. Stepping back, he admires his work of an outfit change. “It won’t just be new, it’ll be better.”

He tries to smile for you.

“You didn’t like this one?” You ask, glossy eyes daring to peer at his own.

His smile drops. “Are you kidding?” He moves forward and his fingers press into your arms, messily moving up and down for the friction of warmth. “I loved that one.”

“Then how’ll my new one be better?”

He pretends to think. “You’ll be wearing it.” You scoff in disbelief and he laughs, loud and defensive, “I’m serious! I love anything you wear, especially my zip up.”

You look down at the black hoodie. “It’s a bit big, no?”

“But it looks good on you.” He shrugs.

“It doesn’t show anything.”

“You know that’s never mattered to me.” He smiles boyishly, fingers dropping to the crook of your elbows and squeezing a little tighter than before. It’s cheesy, but it works. He leans down, smile still plastered on his face as he goes for a kiss. It’s warm and sweet, but you can still feel his grin. He works his hands up to your neck and behind, avoiding the coke vodka mixture still coating your damp hair. “You know that.”

You push up his slipping glasses. “I know.”

His nose twitches, preening at the touch of your fingers. “D’you reckon they have a hair dryer?”

“Sirius definitely does.” You nod.

He giggles, dropping to his knees to open the sink cabinets. “Sirius is going to kill us.”

[sleepynoons]

nanami x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read cw: unprotected sex (and he cums inside you), fingering, nipple play if you squint, squirting

notes: a half-baked attempt at a nanami char study. also, not canon, this is post-jujutsu kaisen storyline, and nanami is alive and well – physically, at least. also x2, gege akutami, idgaf about you and your updated cute cyclops cat avatar, when i get you, it's fucking over for you.

NANAMI HAS a habit of falling into silence after arguments with you.

your first fight, you interpreted his silence as stonewalling, a way to prevent the conversation from continuing so that he wouldn’t have to take any more accountability or responsibility. so, you interrogated – demanded that he say something, anything.

but, in a fragile, almost meek voice, he hoarsely responded, “i’m sorry, my love. i just… i just need time to think.”

almost instinctively, you lurched forward to embrace him. you couldn’t bear to see him in such a state any longer – eyes downcast and watery, fists balled tightly, perspiration collecting on his temples.

“take all the time you need, kento,” you reassured.

the following morning, the two of you discussed and made amends over breakfast (which he got up early to make). and nanami revealed parts of himself you had never known before.

you see, nanami takes his roles as your partner for life and, more generally, as an adult very seriously. he’s given several subject matters and issues deep thought – the jujutsu world, global affairs, mentorship, parenting, and more –, yet he still finds himself in situations he hasn’t encountered before and is stumped. he doesn’t know how to proceed, how to navigate, unable to adapt because a critical, sneering voice in his head exacerbates his immobility. 

it screams: “why don’t you know what to do!”

he’s suffering from performance anxiety, disabled from acting like the adult he should be, reminded of the fact that he was forced to grow up when he was still only a teenager, still too underprepared and incapable to handle anything independently. he can’t even prevent his own relationship from falling apart, and that’s something within his control.

and you know these thoughts still poison your husband’s mind today. even though he’s no longer a sorcerer, and the both of you have moved to kauntan, malaysia, they will probably plague him for the rest of his life, fueled by his regrets and grief.

it’s obviously frustrating for you. but you’re also an adult, and you’re no stranger to regrets or grief yourself. unlike nanami, however, you’re more optimistic, even arguably whimsical and idealistic. just as there is so much pain and suffering in the world, there is also love and comfort. and you’d like to be a source of that support for nanami, standing right beside him as you both move forward, learning to seek and appreciate joy while living with sadness and mourning.

so after every heated conversation (because the two of you have resolved to never fight again), you stay true to your words and remind your husband just how far-reaching and unconditional your love is.

you’re seated on his lap and cupping his face in your palms.

“kento, look at me,” you whisper as you search for his eyes. nanami always gets so shy when you do this. you coax again, “kento, just let me say what i have to say, alright?”

“you don’t have to do this every time,” he mutters, though you know he doesn’t mean it.

“i’ll keep this up until you stop avoiding me.”

with that, he acquiesces. he peers at you, a little nervous and hesitant.

“kento, remember,” you begin, “when we argue, it doesn’t mean i want to break up with you.” kiss. “it doesn’t mean i hate you.” kiss. “it doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person.” you pepper a few more pecks, scattering them across his cheekbones, chin, and the spot right between his eyebrows. “it’s natural” – and you stress this – “for us to disagree and be annoyed at each other because we are not the same person. we both know what to do better on, and that’s that, yeah?”

nanami grunts in agreement, and you happily reward him with a longer smooch on his lips before you finish, “you’re the love of my life, kento, and nothing will change that. i hope you come to believe that.”

he blushes at your confession and mumbles a soft “i love you” in response.

content with your work, you start to sit up, preparing to slide off of nanami’s lap. however, nanami’s hands fly up to square your hips, preventing you from leaving.

“kento?” you ask. he doesn’t say anything, simply takes one of your hands and presses it against his growing bulge. you let out a soft sound of surprise.

“this is incredibly indecent of me,” he mumbles. “i just… need to show you how grateful i am for you.”

it’s your turn to melt at his words. heat floods your face, and you nod enthusiastically, earning a light giggle from your husband.

nanami leans forward to kiss you, gentle presses of his lips to yours. his left hand has bunched your nightgown to give his right access to the tops of your thighs and your core. his right hand caresses, almost tickles, the sensitive skin of your legs, palming and squeezing them as he feels you. he continues to travel upward, reaching to play with the fringes of your underwear. your whimper is swallowed by him as well, as he sneaks his tongue into your mouth, transitioning the kiss into a full-blown makeout.

he traces your folds and lines through your panties, his fingertips poking at the wet spot that is starting to dampen the lace and cotton. just his sheer touch is enough to make you keen, transform into a whimpering mess that only wants more, more, all of him. as a result, you pull away, translucent spit connecting and stretching out before it’s broken apart as you take off your nightgown and throw it behind you. nanami also strips himself of his shirt, before the two of you crash back together and resume kissing and mouthing and moaning.

nanami’s hands continue to work magic on your body – circling around and then tugging and twisting at your puffy nipples, shifting your panties to the side and inserting a thick finger into your squelching hole. throwing caution and embarrassment to the wind, he even becomes a little forceful and only gives you a brief moment to adjust before he shoves two more fingers in, forcing your pussy to take in three at once.

you can only throw your head back, whining his name, pressure and pleasure making you drool.

“sorry, dearest, i’m usually more careful than this,” he grunts through gritted teeth. his cock is still stuck in the confines of his pajama pants, and he knows he should give you more time. but, after a few more seconds, he has to pull his cock out, slip his fingers out of you, and align his tip with your entrance.

“i need it,” you sob, your hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders.

“are you sure?” you firmly nod your head, leaving him no choice but to stuff you full.

the stretch is delicious. honeyed. syrupy. your walls welcome him, and you feel your heart fill with so much warmth. the two of you are so clearly in love, heart eyes locked onto each other’s, even as nanami ruts into you and your nipples sing as they graze against his chest. you’re panting each other’s names, finding some way – any way – to get even closer, prove that physicality could never impede the joining of your souls. your thighs trap the sides of nanami’s legs, and your husband has lowered his hands to cup your ass to better bounce you up and down on his cock. every rock stretches you out even more, allowing him to sink even deeper into you.

you yelp, “kento! i – hah – love! you!” even though you’re short of breath, you try your best to say it over and over again, desperately hoping that nanami can get a glimpse of just how much you cherish him.

he gasps, “you just – never stop giving.” nanami knows he will never be able to string words together the way you do, intonate them with such profound adoration and admiration like you do. so the least he can do is show you.

he embraces you fully, arms moving up to wrap around your chest and torso, and hugs you closely as he thrusts up, punching air out of you so that you’re totally out of breath. he’s giving you everything he has because never has he felt so moved in his life. he just wants to give you everything, and if he can give you even a taste of ecstasy, he’ll be able to sleep soundly by your side tonight.

you’re fucked out, mouth lolling open, and because you’ve lost even the strength to hold your head up, you rest yourself in the crook of nanami’s neck.

“i’m close,” you whisper. dutifully, nanami nods, gives you a swift kiss on the cheek, and hammers even harder into you. each sheathe of his cock is a force to be reckoned, and in no time, you feel yourself squirting all over, losing yourself to the sensation of being enclosed by nanami’s body, heat, and devotion. nanami follows shortly thereafter, sucking heavily on your collarbone as he fills you up, up, up with his cum, a promise to remind you for day’s to come that he will always give you himself over to you, over and over again, everyday if you so pleased.

as the two of you rest, he looks down at you and waits for you to come back to him. and when you do, he musters his courage because, while words may always fail him, he will always try his best for you. “i love you more than you know,” he promises, voice laced with blissful exhaustion, and kisses you once again.

[seehisbriefs]

Picture yourself settled in the common area of your dorm, buried in your studies, donning a t-shirt and, of course, those tighty whities – the only underwear your parents deem appropriate for their darling 23-year-old. Suddenly, your dorm mates, Brad and Tyler, emerge, on the hunt for a bit of fun. They catch sight of you and can't contain their amusement.

Brad: "No way, man, are you actually just chillin' in tighty whities? That's just too good!"

You glance around, mortified, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, and stammer out a feeble response.

Tyler: "We have to share this moment. Hey, everyone, come see what we've got here!"

You shrink back, trying to sink into the couch, your whiny protests barely audible.

You: "Please, don't... This isn't... I'm just... studying."

But it's no use. Brad's already got a firm grip on you, and Tyler's rallying the troops.

You: "Stop it, guys... It's not... Stop laughing!"

With one on each side, they hoist you up, your arms flailing weakly as you're paraded down the hall, the snickers of your dorm mates trailing behind you.

Tyler: "Feast your eyes on the king of old-school cool in his tighty whities!"

You're practically wilting with embarrassment as the hallway fills with curious and chuckling students. You feel so exposed, so childish.

Sophie, from your biology class, peers out, her mouth agape.

Sophie: "Oh my... That's him? I can't... tighty whities? Really?"

Brad: (with a smirk) "Right? It's like he's living in the past. Hey, maybe we should upgrade him to big boy pants!"

Whispers and giggles fill the air, and you can feel the shame settling heavy on your shoulders.

Tyler: "Or maybe some superhero underoos? Might as well embrace the whole kid vibe!"

Your voice cracks as you plead with them, the embarrassment turning your pleas into whines.

You: "Please... just let me go. This isn't right... you guys are being so mean..."

But the walk of shame continues. You're the spectacle, the college senior who can't seem to let go of his boyhood underwear. As you stand there, the butt of the joke, all you can think about is how your parents always seem to know best. They've always said you weren't ready for the adult world, and right now, you can't help but feel they might be right.

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 5 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

warning(s): weed mischief

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4

You were sitting at your table, chatting amicably with everyone, when Gretchen finally graced you with her presence. She was glowing, that much you could admit.

"Hey, guys!" She gave an energetic greeting. You smiled and waved.

"Oh em gee, Gretch!" Regina said as she stood up. She was considerably taller than the bride, with killer heels that gave some significant inches. They did air kisses on each cheek and cooed and squealed for a little.

"It's been so long! You're so rarely in town I wasn't sure you'd come!" Gretchen enthused. Her husband stood on the sidelines, looking quite put out but trying to hide it.

"Oh, you know I always make time for you," A blatant lie but you weren't going to say anything about it. "I'm so happy you've found love!"

"Me too," Gretchen gushed, snaring her boo-thang by the arm. He'd zoned out so startled a little but recovered quick with a dashing smile.

"Hi, I'm Michael." Of course, his name was Michael. What was next? Chad? Tucker?

"Regina. Regina George." Regina said, then turned to you. "And this is my partner."

You stood up and shook his hand, then said your name. "Nice to meet you. Congrats."

Michael nodded, smiling uncomfortably. He'd seemed sociable and open with the other guests so you didn't get why he was being all shy now.

"Thanks!" Gretchen chirped. Her eyes flitted between you and Regina. "Sorry if this is abrupt, but you two are still together?"

"We did go on a break right before college." Regina chose her words deliberately. "But after that, we just couldn't resist. True love just pulls you in, doesn't it?" She put her arm around your waist and pulled you to her. You stumbled a little, falling into her. Your arms came around her neck.

Gretchen looked quite unsettled by the close embrace. "It totally does." She said, tone falling flat.

"Mmh. Well, what plans have you got? Honeymoon?"

"Michael's been planning it for us," Gretchen said. That surprised you considering she was such a control freak. Perhaps you were wrong.

"There's no keeping secrets from her," Michael laughed. "Surprising her is too damn hard." His Southern twang was prominent. Something was charming about him, you supposed.

"I just want it to be right, Mike!" Gretchen teased, lightly hitting him on the shoulder. "I've been better haven't I? I let Deborah do the flower arrangements."

"Yes, dear," Michael said, looking down at Gretchen with real, genuine love in his eyes.

Seeing them interact, so sweet on one another, made you sad. First of all, because you were so similar. You were on the same level, people just the same as them. Looking at them like this, in just the context of the moment currently playing out, you didn't want to ruin their wedding.

But you had history. Gretchen had outed you to the school in junior year of high school. It'd had devastating effects on your life as a whole. Your father went from cold neglect to open disdain, you lost the jobs you were doing around the neighbourhood, your peers ostracised you. Those close to you, Regina mostly, got targeted rumours spread around and more negative attention than ever.

Gretchen was not the sole reason for your and Regina's break up but definitely one of them. You had settled to forgive and forget when you came back to town, to stay away and not say anything in a silent, mutual agreement. You buried the hatchet and thought she had, too.

You should've known better. Watching her make googly eyes at her husband as if the things she did had no bearing, no weight, infuriated you. She had ruined your life. Things had progressed since you were in high school and outing didn't have quite the same fallout, but what she did to Kylie was still unforgivable. There hadn't been that much progress. Gay marriage was still illegal in some states.

"Man, Gretchen, seeing you like this brings me back." You said, eyeing her. "Those sure were the days," You sighed and played wistful.

The bride and groom shared glances. Regina picked up what you were putting down and got involved.

"You'll be seeing just how much of a wildcat she is, Michael," Regina said, laying it on thick. "You have my number, Gretch, just give me a call if you wanna relive old times on your wedding night." She finished off with a saucy wink. You almost couldn't hold in your laughter.

"Toodles," Regina wiggled her fingers and took you by the arm, leading you away.

Once you were a safe distance away, you asked: "Wonder if they'll talk about that in private?"

"About Gretchen being involved, allegedly, in a lesbian threesome sandwich? I'd bet on it." Regina grinned.

You steered towards the exit to the parking lot where your car was. You had the kazoos and water pistols in the trunk. Maybe you spent a good fifteen minutes pinning Regina to the side of your flashy vintage—Betty the Catalina, you introduced—sucking the soul out of her through her mouth. Making out. Whatever, that was neither here nor there.

While Regina set out to find a gullible mother to deceive into giving out kazoos and water pistols, you called a guy. Rick was his name and he owed you a favour. He happened to be the owner of several karaoke bars. He'd hook you up.

"Yeah, anything will do, just needs to connect to the loudspeakers—uhh, pretty new I'd say, nothing too fancy but they didn't skimp out, that's for sure—yeah, yeah, I'll give you the address. Can he get here in an hour? Maybe less? I can pay his speeding tickets, no worries."

After making sure a karaoke machine would be delivered to the reception, you strutted back towards the building. On the way, you spotted three youths huddled in a non-descript spot by some shed. They were only visible from the parking lot. You knew what they were up to.

"Hey, kids," You sidled up to them, prompting the tallest of them to fumble with the joint he was trying to light. He had acne all over and residues of black eyeliner on his eyes. He had a strip of hair dyed stripey like a racoon tail. It was pretty cool, to be honest.

"H- hey," He stuttered, voice cracking as he swiped some hair from his eyes. Oh, to be young.

"You got weed?" You decided to be blunt. (Ha, blunt.) The two others were shaking like leaves in their tuxedos.

"No. I don't, like, even know what that is," The ring-leader crossed his arms defensively and leaned casually against the wall of the shed. Or, well, he was going for casual but looked extremely spooked.

"Well, that's a damn shame 'cause I was just looking to buy some." You said and reached into your breast pocket to pull out your wallet. You opened it and pulled out a couple of fifties. "I got all this cash to burn. But, hey, if you don't got any..."

"You'd pay that much for weed?" The boy eyed the bills hungrily.

"I'll be straight with you, kid-"

"I'm not a kid. I'm seventeen." He grumped. "Flint. Or Finnigan, I guess."

"Alright, Flint, I'm gonna put this bluntly. Your family sorta sucks." You looked at the other two. They were probably all cousins. Wouldn't tattle if Flint, the Cool One, told them not to. They didn't seem that much younger. As a responsible adult, you should've probably said something along the lines of 'don't smoke it's bad for you' but you were just glad they weren't shooting up or anything.

"Understatement of the century," He scoffed.

"Which side are you from, by the way?"

"The groom's." They all said in unison. That explained why you'd never seen most of these folk.

"I don't know much about him to be fair, but if he's shacking up with Gretchen I'm pretty sure they're equally sucky. Anyway, I'm trying to get everybody as fucked up as possible." You clarified, skirting around exactly what you were trying to do which was to ruin the wedding. Maybe these kids had better morals than you. "The bride sorta caused a rift between my girlfriend and I years back, outed me to the whole school, it was a scandal, we broke up and I spiralled. It was bad and I want revenge."

"She outed you? Like..." Flint looked around, looking scared someone was gonna hear. Nobody else was around. "Like you're gay?"

"I'm here with my girlfriend today." You said, smiling dopeyly. Your cheeks hurt. "I think we're back together. It's complicated. So, you wanna sell?"

"Hell yeah," He grinned, teeth crooked to the ninth degree. "Can we get in on it? Michael totally sucks, he orders us around like we're his minions or something."

The other two nodded along empathetically. They all had the same boxy, swoopy haircut that kept falling into their eyes. What luck that ran into the angsty teens of the clan.

"I don't know how much you'll be able to do without getting in trouble with your parents. Gotta be at least a little subtle."

Flint dug into his backpack and pulled out a plastic tupperware. There were some decent-looking nugs in there from what you could see through the frosted plastic. You handed over the cash.

"Pleasure doing business with you." You contemplated for a moment. "Any chance you could pull the fire alarm for the cake-cutting?"

The three matching evil grins were enough of an answer for you. Their little emo faces made your chest feel warm. You wanted to take them under your wing, or something.

"By the way, weed is fine. It's not great, I don't recommend it, but if you're gonna do drugs then this is best case scenario." You shook the plastic case in your hand. "Never do hard drugs. It's gonna make your hair fall out and teeth hurt like a bitch."

You left the three teenagers to smoke their blunt, knowing that your little shpiel probably went through one ear and out the other. You hoped they pulled through but if they didn't, you were planning on doing enough wicked shit that the sprinklers triggering would just be a cherry on top.

You found Janis smoking a cigarette at the same spot you'd been at earlier.

"You got a grinder?"

You opened the lid of the box, blasting the air with the potent smell of cannabis.

"Where the fuck did you get all that?" She asked as she reached into her purse.

"Not important. What is, though, is how we'll get the guests high."

Janis, the bright mind that she was, immediately got to work. You didn't even bother asking what she was up to when she crouched on the floor and began grinding away. She had fast hands, you observed, with how quick and clean she was rolling several blunts. Now that you saw clearly into the tupperware, lord almighty Flint had a lot of kush.

"What's the plan?" You asked after a moment, holding the box in one hand and blunts in the other. You stubbornly ignored the compulsion to stick one between your lips and light up. That was over for you.

"Find a Helen, a Beatrice, and or a Leigh-Anne, and convince them this is a miracle herb harvested from the government-protected, top-secret alpine springs of Florida, known for reversing wrinkles, repairing hymens, and with long-term use reducing hair growth neck down. It might even accelerate or delay menopause, depending on whose asking."

"Florida is the flattest state in the continental USA." You pointed out.

"Exactly." Janis didn't spare you a glance, just kept on rolling.

"So we're spinning a multilevel-marketing scheme on these people."

"Not really." Janis paused and turned to you. "We're just scamming them. Not even with money, with the devil's lettuce."

"That's arguably worse. I think this might be a felony."

"Oh, it definitely is."

Notes: The ball is rolling! At last! It only took five chapters good golly god.

Taglist posted seperately! If you want on it, comment so on that post!

[tarot-by-e11e]

PAC: What do you need to learn to love about yourself?

Never forget to only take what resonates and leave what doesn't. This is a general PAC reading, so if the first pile you chose doesn't resonate with you, then maybe you're meant to read another pile.

(this is for entertainment purposes only)

.·:*¨ ¨*:·. •,¸,.·’ ‘·.,¸,•.·:*¨ ¨*:·.•,¸,.·’ ‘·.,¸,•.·:*¨ ¨*:·.

Pile 1: Ace of Swords, 4 of Coins, 9 of Cups

You may feel like an outcast, Pile 1. You don’t think like other people. You might have also been scrutinized for being able to “work smart”, being told, “Why do we have to do it a new way when the old way still works?”. My dear Pile 1, you must learn to love your inner visionary. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to improve the current system of things. You sought to evolve and you hope by sharing your ideas, others can grow and move forward with you. You’re also able to see through the mess and create clarity for yourself. Embrace the parts of you that can naturally find ways of life more efficiently and cost-effectively.

Another great thing about you that deserves a whole lot of love is your practical approach towards financial literacy. Others might have called you stingy but they didn’t know you might have grown up in a place of lack. So you had promised yourself to work smart so that you won’t have to worry about how you’re going to afford to put food on the table, a roof over your head, and clothes on your back.

There’s nothing to be ashamed about knowing how to make money work for you. You have this natural ability to be wise and practical about your resources. Be proud that you know how to also be secure internally as well. Establishing healthy boundaries is a skill we all need yet not everyone learns. People call you guarded, I say you know that not everyone deserves to have access to you.

Finally, never shame yourself for being able to achieve your goals and dreams in life, pile 1. You should allow yourself to enjoy the fruits of your labor unapologetically. This is a rather hard pill to swallow for those with survivor’s guilt. Being able to become the person you’ve always wanted to be means those people you loved who didn’t evolve with you might get left behind. This makes it difficult for you to allow yourself to savor your success when you have loved ones who haven’t achieved their dreams yet.

As much as you want to be happy for them, you can’t make them achieve their success for them. They chose their way of life as you did yours. If your success bothers them, it’s not your responsibility to coddle and make yourself small for their comfort. So, if you feel you deserve to go on a solo vacation for your hard work, then go for it. If you want to move into your own apartment, go right ahead.

You have every right to use your money to whoever you see fit. You’ve worked hard to earn that, so treat yourself right with the fruits of your labor. Don’t apologize for that promotion. Never apologize for your happiness. You just need to remember one thing: you can’t control how others react to your success.

.·:*¨ ¨*:·. •,¸,.·’ ‘·.,¸,•.·:*¨ ¨*:·.•,¸,.·’ ‘·.,¸,•.·:*¨ ¨*:·.

Pile 2: Moon, 9 of Swords, 4 of Swords

First of all pile 2, one thing you should learn to love about yourself is your intuition and your ability to easily see through the BS. Yup, I said it loud and clear. You see through the BS in people. They can’t lie to you, even to save their lives. Your intuition is a gift that helps you in any way that can help lead you into your highest good. Though it seems that pile 2 feels bad that you see through the superficial two-faced niceties among your peers. You might have experienced moments where you muttered under your breath, “I hope I’m wrong” only to be proven right yet again. Don’t you think it’s high time you should stop lying to yourself and embrace this amazing gift?

Another thing you should learn to love about yourself is knowing your limits and being able to give yourself the space to honor and validate your fears and anxiety. Don’t beat yourself up for being aware of what you can or cannot do because knowing your limitations means you can utilize whatever skills you have at hand that are to your advantage.

Also, not everyone is resilient enough to be able to hold space for their fears, anxiety, and insecurities without letting the aforementioned swallow them whole. You know yourself well enough that you need to be able to safely allow your feelings to be seen and validated for your and everyone’s good. You know what it’s like to be at the bottom, so you know that with your acquired knowledge backed by personal experience, you can help someone else ease through their own fears and anxiety.

Finally Pile 2, you need to stop feeling guilty about prioritizing your self-care and rest. You know what your body requires to be able to do your tasks every day. There’s nothing wrong with being able to listen to what your body needs intuitively. When you know you’re about to rest, you know yourself well enough that you need to pause, reassess, and re-strategize your approach moving forward.

You should also be proud of knowing how to protect your peace. Some people who call you selfish for putting yourself, down don’t like the fact that they can’t manipulate and abuse you to their advantage. The issue is with them, never with you. Knowing how to protect and defend yourself is something you should be proud of. You know your worth and you also know what you won’t tolerate. So, you shouldn’t fault and cave into to toxic societal norm of conforming to unrealistic and unethical double standards. Embrace your self-worth. Never feel bad about putting yourself first.

.·:*¨ ¨*:·. •,¸,.·’ ‘·.,¸,•.·:*¨ ¨*:·.•,¸,.·’ ‘·.,¸,•.·:*¨ ¨*:·.

Pile 3: 5 of Swords, 10 of Coins, Justice

Hi Pile 3, what you need to learn to love about yourself is your conflict resolution skills. This pile feels like my eloquent speakers pile. Could also be my bookworm pile. With an extensive vocabulary and unfortunately growing up in a hostile environment, for the sake of your survival, you grew up having no choice but to be good at conflict resolution. I know it’s an odd thing to love about yourself but another great thing that you should learn to love about yourself is you know when to stand firm and fight, if necessary.

Like, if diplomacy is useless, you’re ready to take the offensive approach. But this has always been your last resort. Knowing what it’s like to grow up in a chaotic environment if you had a choice, you would avoid recreating that childhood chaos in your current adult life. You’d exhaust all diplomatic approaches before you’re forced to take the offensive stance. That’s one of the many things about you that deserves to be loved and appreciated.

What you need to learn to love about yourself is your legacy/roots/ancestry, pile 3. This could also be my POC / mixed race / immigrant pile. It sort of makes sense why you’re a bit iffy about your lineage, especially if you’re mixed race because you might have been bullied when you were younger. So, it’s a bit tricky to love a part of you that your immediate environment teased/bullied/ostracized you for.

You must have dealt with a whole plethora of traumatic stories because you don’t look like most people around you. There’s nothing wrong with being different. There’s nothing wrong with being an immigrant. There’s nothing wrong about being of mixed race. You are beautiful/handsome/lovable just the way you are. The issues is never with you so never shame yourself for your lineage. You deserve love, respect, and happiness for simply existing.

Finally, don’t feel bad about being honest and holding others accountable. There’s nothing to be ashamed of when you are upholding your integrity. You should learn to love the parts of yourself that cannot stand injustice. You have this natural instinct to defend the powerless and speak for the silenced. Not everyone is brave enough to fight for their beliefs and the rights of others. Your need for truth is quite remarkable. So never feel bad about not being a good liar. It just means you don’t see the point of lying to someone.

In this age where manipulation and mental games are being praised as “owning your power”, people, like you pile 3, are rarer than black opals in a Pacific ocean full of diamonds. So never let anyone bully you into conforming to this mental gymnastics just to be accepted/in a relationship. People who are meant to be in your life don’t have to be lied to in order for them to want to be with you. You can only keep someone that wants to be kept.

.·:*¨ ¨*:·. •,¸,.·’ ‘·.,¸,•.·:*¨ ¨*:·.•,¸,.·’ ‘·.,¸,•.·:*¨ ¨*:·.

Pile 4: 10 of Cups, Page of Wands, King of Cups

From what I can pick up for you pile 4 is that you should be proud that you came from a loving home. I know, it kind of sounds like too much of a flex. To have been able to grow up in a loving environment while your peers grew up in chaotic and traumatic environments tends to leave a heavy guilt in your heart. A part of you feels bad that you can’t relate to having a crappy childhood because your parents actually did the work and healed together so that you can have a happy childhood.

So… whenever your friends or peers open up about how they feel unloved and unappreciated at home then they ask you about your childhood, you must have lied to avoid putting salt in their wounds. I understand the need for camaraderie but you shouldn’t feel bad about having come from a loving family. If your friends are okay with this suggestion, why not invite them over? Ask your family if they can be more understanding and considerate towards your friends. To be an example that not all adults are bad.

Another interpretation of this card is to be proud of your happiness. Don’t feel bad that you actually have a loving partner while your friends are still single. Don’t be ashamed of being seen with your significant other. It’s not like you’re intentionally making your single friends jealous whenever you answer their questions about your love life.

You should be unapologetically proud of your happiness, especially when you know you did nothing wrong. Why apologize for your happiness when everyone wants to be happy, in some shape or form? Also, consider this as a word of caution, if someone around you isn’t happy for your happiness, best to cut ties with them. It’s not wise to be around someone who doesn’t know how to be happy for the happiness of others. This doesn’t just involve relationships, this can also be applied to promotions, achievements, and awards.

Something about yourself that deserves more love pile 3 is your cheerful disposition and adventurous spirit. It’s not shameful to be able to see the silver lining. It’s not bad to be able to see the good in people. With how our world is in constant chaos and peril, we need people like you who haven’t lost hope for a better and brighter future.

So never feel bad about being perceived as naïve when you’re simply not projecting your bad experiences to the new people you meet in your life. What’s so bad about still being able to be excited about the glimmers in life? There’s nothing to feel bad about being able to cater and nurture your inner child. So never let the world shame you for never giving up hope.

Finally Pile 4, you should learn to love your natural inclination for diplomacy. Knowing when to listen to your heart or when to lead with your head is such a life-changing and valuable ability that majority of us are constantly learning to master day by day. You might have been told that you’re so mature and wiser than your age, which might have been internalized as this insatiable need to always be reliable and dependable. At times, it might feel like such a burden at times; to always be the person everyone relies on.

So… since you are aware of the weight of the responsibility of being the reliable person for everyone, you should use your ability of discernment to decide a schedule on when will you entertain request for counsel for those who need you. You know what your needs are, and you also know that you need to be able to live a balanced life to be of service to others. So, learn to be okay with putting yourself first so that you can help others better in a later date.

.·:*¨ ¨*:·. •,¸,.·’ ‘·.,¸,•.·:*¨ ¨*:·.•,¸,.·’ ‘·.,¸,•.·:*¨ ¨*:·.

Please do let me know how you resonate with your pile in the comment section below.

Thank you so much for looking through my PAC.

Tagging my personal account: @e11e27 as a reminder.

[emmyrosee]

“But I’m cold.”

Your voice whines in a pitch that makes Kiyoomi’s brow hitch up in annoyance, arms crossed firmly over his chest as he stares at you from the end of your bed.

It’s late, he’s been staying later every time he comes over after practice, almost as if to see you off to bed. You tell him- well, beg him- to just stay and spend the night, it’s too late for him to drive and you’ll miss him.

Deep down, you know that’s the point that seems to make him want to cave the most, but the stubborn asshole hasn’t given in fully yet. He’s told you from the beginning he’s more of a ‘sleep in my own bed’ kind of guy, but it did make you feel a little insecure about why, then, he never invited you over.

Kiyoomi promised you it was just because of the early mornings, he never wanted you to feel like you had to dash out, or even wake up to see him off, but the insecurity burns all the same.

“If you’re cold, get under the sheets,” he says, as if explaining to a child. “I’ll leave my hoodie for you, if you’d like?”

You fiddle with the threads of your blanket stiffly, “I don’t… I don’t want to get under the sheets.” You sink your teeth into the fat of your lip in embarrassment, trying to ward off awkward tears that want to sting. “Because, when I do, you’re going to leave.” From your sitting position, you see him deflate slightly.

Then, he pads his way next to you. He scoots on your bed, and he wraps an arm around you, tugging you close. You burrow into his side, inhaling the warmth of his skin.

“How about I wait until you’re asleep?” He offers, voice low. He moves the hand not embracing you to gently grip your chin and angle you to look up at him, eyes soft and calm.

“You hurt my feelings when you don’t want to stay, Kiyoomi.”

The words slip out unprovoked, and as his face morphs into one of guilt, yours turns to one of embarrassment. You clear your throat and turn away from the fingers against your chin.

“Yeah,” You pant. “I… I understand that you don’t want to stay. If you don’t mind waiting until I’m asleep, that… that would mean a lot.”

He nods, mind deep in thought as he curls more around you, protectively, letting you get lost in the fabric of his sweatshirts and the bulky arms encasing you. You purr, and just like it does when you’re always with kiyoomi, your mind settles and before you can know it, you’re off into sleep.

Your dreams conjure minimal, little flickers of familiar faces in ridiculous scenarios, but you jolt awake when there’s a teeny nightmare that manages to catch you off guard, and your eyes fly open to try and stop the fear that started brewing.

Now awake, you gladly are able to take in your surrounding and shake off the fright; you’re not entirely sure how you ended up in your pajamas and under the covers, but you’re not complaining. As sunlight peers through the blinds, you stretch and try to curl in on yourself, but you’re blocked by a solid body next to you.

You yelp, slightly alarmed, but there’s a soft, smooth “shhhh,” that comes from the person beside you, and as an arm wraps around you, you burrow into his familiar scent with a happy mewl.

“Omi?” You mumble, pulling your arms close to your chest as he pulls you closer. “You stayed?”

“Shut up,” he murmurs. “You were shivering.”

The meek attempt at denying why he truly stayed makes you giggle, and you burrow against his chest in search for that addictive warmth he’d granted you through the whole night.

“Thank you,” you say, nuzzling your head under his chin. His arms are protective around you, his sleepy grunts barely audible, you’re sure you would’ve missed them if you weren’t so close, but they’re the sweetest noises you’ve ever heard, and you hate that he denied you them for so long.

“You wanna talk about your nightmare?” He says, voice drunk with sleep.

“What nightmare?”

“You were flinching a little before you woke up. Figured it scared you awake.”

You smile and plant a kiss along the muscles of the pectoral you’re nuzzled against, “it wasn’t serious. I’m more impressed you knew it had me awake.”

“Of course I knew; you only tremble like that when you’re scared.”

“You care about me or something?”

“I just happen to pay attention to you.” One onyx eye peers down at you, “because of course I care about you, dickhead.”

Fuck, you think to yourself. He’s damn good.

And he is. Kiyoomi is ridiculously good, he always has been, and while you hadn’t meant to upset him with your confession last night, there is a small sliver of you that’s grateful he listened and caved to be with you.

Even if it was a little out of his comfort zone.

“This is nice,” he mumbles into your hair, his fingertips dragging up and down the slope of your spine.

You nod and move one of your hands to the nape of his neck, carding the curly locks and relishing in the mewls he lets out, “I told you. You just don’t listen to me.”

“Because I’m not used to you being right.”

“You’re so rude,” you snort, and once again, his vocal chords vibrate against your head as he laughs. It’s quiet once again, and you’re almost ready to doze back off when on the nightstand next to the bed, his phone vibrates loudly.

“Omi-“

“No,” he grumbles. “‘S just Miya. He’s fine. We’re comfortable.”

“We are,” you giggle. “But I don’t want you to be late.”

“I’m never late for anything.” He shifts to nuzzle his head deeper into the pillow, “besides, you’re the one who convinced me to stay, why are you trying to get me to leave now?”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you assure.

“Yeah, I don’t either.”

“You have to,” you snort, your eyes watching as his Adam’s Apple bobs with each swallow and word that falls from his sleepy mouth. “Come on. Meian will be pissed, Miya will be blowing up your phone soon enough.”

“Fuck Miya,” he grumbles. “You’re trying to get me to stop snuggling and leave and you think Miya is your best argument?”

You give him some more laughter, your fingers gently running over the moles and scars that adorn his chest and side, and you smirk as the muscles quiver under your touch. Ticklish. He would be. “Oh?”

“You wanna keep that hand?” He grumbles, and if you knew him any less, you may have missed the way you could hear the smile in his voice. “I suggest you don’t get too creative there.”

“Oh, I’m getting very creative.” Before you can provoke him further, a hand grabs yours and tenderly brings it up to his lips, planting warm, soft kisses to the knuckles.

“Don’t be annoying,” he mutters, sleepily looking at you from the corner of his eyes, “just be affectionate. I got months to try and make up for.”

He looks cute, soft in the early morning haze, and you do decide You yield as you curl into the bend of his sides, letting his breathing even out before his phone starts ringing again. He’s warm, his snuggly, and he’s still the Kiyoomi only you have the privilege of seeing.

And now, you’re hoping he’s giving you the privilege to see it every morning.

[lackadaisicallizard]

Sundays

Growing up, Regulus hated Sundays. 

Sundays were mornings spent in church, pretending to the world that they were a perfect family. Sundays were stuffy clothes and tight ties wrapped around throats spouting nothing but lies about the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. 

Sundays were carefully coordinated games disguised as family lunches, the entire extended family coming together to outdo each other in just how well they were doing. Sundays were masterclasses in manipulation, lies and deceit. 

But now, fifteen years later on the most ordinary of all days, Regulus can hear voices coming from the kitchen. 

“I think that��s enough eggs, Haz, why don’t you add more flour now?” 

“How much do I need to add?” 

“I have no idea, just pour until it looks right.” 

Sliding on his slippers, Regulus makes his way out of the bedroom and down the hall, stopping in the doorway of the kitchen. He leans against the doorframe for a moment, watching the scene in front of him. 

“How’s it going there?” His husband peers into the mixing bowl that seems to have more eggs in it than any hen could feasibly lay in a year. 

“The flour won’t come out of the bag,” Harry says with a frown. 

“Try banging on the end of it,” James suggests and before Regulus can even consider stepping in to stop him, their son does just that. He is far too much like his father for his own good sometimes. 

Flour ends up everywhere. 

“Papa’s going to kill me,” Harry groans through a layer of white dust. 

“Papa doesn’t have to know,” James says, “you finish the batter and I’ll clean it up.” 

Harry stirs it, a puff of flour rising into the air. “I think it may be beyond saving now, Dad.” 

“J’en ai marre,” their heads whip around at the sound of Regulus’ voice, both faces a similar mask of concern. “You two are useless.” 

He steps into the kitchen now, holding out his hand for the bowl, which Harry passes him with a guilty expression. “I love you?” 

Regulus’ own expression softens completely at that and he places the bowl on the counter before holding out his arms for his son. Harry moves into them without hesitation, being pulled into a warm embrace and leaning into his father. “Tu es la lumière de ma vie,” Regulus says, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s soft curls before pulling back and looking at him in the eyes. “That doesn’t mean you can get flour all over my kitchen though, compris?” 

“Oui papa, désolé. We were just trying to make you breakfast in bed.” 

“It’s true,” James cuts in, a smile pulling up the corner of his lips, “we know you’ve had a long week so we thought we’d make some pancakes.” 

Regulus smiles back, he can’t help himself. “I’m not sure which one of you thought you could pull that off considering the great scrambled egg fiasco last month.” 

“Those eggs were delicious and you know it!” 

“I had to go to the store for more and make them myself.” 

“… my comment still stands,” James says with a grin and Regulus rolls his eyes at his husband. 

“Harry, go and fetch the chocolate chips from the cupboard and I’ll attempt to salvage this.” 

Harry disappears into the pantry and as Regulus starts to decanter as much flour as he can from the very floury bowl, he feels arms wrap around him from behind. 

“I’m sorry about the flour,” James’ voice is low in his ear. 

Regulus hums. “I would say I’m surprised, but I’m not.” 

A soft chuckle followed by lips against his hair. “I’m also sorry for ruining your Sunday, love. I know it’s the first day you’ve had off in a while.” 

But the thing is, he hasn’t. 

Because Regulus knows what a bad Sunday feels like. They’re ingrained into his brain. 

But this right here? Making far too much batter to even out the mountain of flour that he can’t salvage from the bowl. Allowing his son to add almost an entire bag of chocolate chips to the mixture. Watching his husband smother a tower of pancakes with syrup and whipped cream. Cleaning up an incredibly messy kitchen together as a family after they’ve done. 

Well, this is what Sundays are now. They’re not perfect, or proper, or in the least bit civilised. 

And he loves every one. 

[teeramoonlover]

This got me thinking.

Billy Loomis, Stu Macher/William Afton, and Bo Sinclair as they grew older, at some point they need someone from their own flesh and blood to continue their legacy, right?

So yeah those three gonna build one big happy family with reader, and their kids gonna be a bunch of satan's spawn but only being lovely to their own mom/dad/guardian.

And ofc in this case, those three lovely slashers ain't dead in these scenario.

Billy Loomis

As we all know, Samantha Carpenter is the infamous daughter of Billy Loomis. But what if Billy Loomis actually have another kid from the reader? I'm gonna assume this guy gonna be his son.

(My pov) His son definitely will hunt and kill the Ghostface, who dare to be like his dad. In his mind, he was like 'my dad and his friend are the only Ghostface, no one's gotta be like him. And it will stay that way'. So to ease his bloodlust, instead of killing innocents, why not just kill these Ghostface rookies. It's like they're asking for it, didn't they?

Not surprised to see he loves horror movies, maybe get inspiration from crime documentaries. High chance he is the mastermind and have many ways to lure those new Ghostface to him. Tempting to torture them like John Kramer did to his victims.

Oh and if his dad has mommy issue, bro got a whole daddy issues coming in. Like father, like son

Cast (Son): Benjamin Wadsworth

Born: 1997

Stu Macher/William Afton

If Stu Macher had a kid, ya bet his children gonna be a goofball like him? Wrong. In fact (from my pov), his son gonna double up from Stu's inner psychotic tendency in him. More aggressive, more violent and more unhinged. His son knew to embrace madness.

If Stu Macher become a killer because of peer pressure, this kid just pure psycho. Instead of being a friendly social butterfly or party king like his dad, he's the appitome of school's bad boy type of thing. It's either being mean or meanest.

Don't let me start on him becoming Micheal Afton.

If he gets proper love from his mom/guardian, he gonna be a big softie and overprotective (possessive) to his love ones. Gonna be hella toxic. He can be good, only with his mom/guardian, but to someone else? Rarely occasion.

Cast (Son): Drew Starkey

Born: 1996

Bo Sinclair

Ok first of all we all know, BO SINCLAIR IS A BEAST IN BED (rip reader's cunt/rim hole) and when he knew reader is pregnant, he was worried he might not be a good father figure to his kid until their first child born. Things change. Seeing his son's big blue eyes, like him, stir something in him. The Sinclair Jr made him soft. So ofc, Bo becomes bold and wants another child cuz he doesn't want his son to be lonely.

It's to be expected. To be apart of the Sinclair, they would eventually have twins sooner or later. Thank god both their son's head still intact in one piece. On the other hand, his three sons grew handsomely and receive motherly love from the reader.

The eldest, have a nasty tempered like his dad. You got on his way, he'll beat the shit out of you. He only be really nice to someone he care most, like his mama dearest. Always goes to church with his dad to see his grandma and help him in the garage.

The twins - The first twin (middle child) definitely got the charm from his dad. Knows how to be a sweetheart to ladies, but can be deadly once he hunt them for his uncle's sculpture. Most likely helping Vincent to build the museum. Might as well make an art museum next door too.

The second gonna be a rebellion, daredevil (youngest child) Well, not like strapping him to the chair. No no, mama won't like that. He loves adventure so definitely follow uncle Lester from town to town. He likes hunting, depends whether the prey will be animals or people. He can be nice. Charming too. Gonna be good friends with Stu's son, probably.

Cast (Sons): Eldest - Bill Skarsgård, Middle - Harris Dickinson, Youngest - Rudeth Pankow

Born: Eldest - 1994, Twins - 1996

Yep, one big chaotic, happy family indeed.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Sorry I just came up with another idea for family day! Marja and sebeks grandfather Baal just end up talking about how proud they are of their grandkids after Marja comes up to Sebek to ask how he's been since the harveston race

APPLEPOM SEBEK MY BELOVED 🤡

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

"My, is that Sebek-san I see over there?"

The voice that met his ears was like molasses. Slow and sweet, like an apple slowly roasted over a fire until it was mushy and caramelized in the center. He had last heard it in a frigid little backwater village.

In Harveston.

“Marja?” Sebek gaped at the sight of her hunched next to Epel in a knitted sweater. He had determined some time ago that she reminded him of a snowman. Everything about her was friendly and round--face, nose, cheeks. Seeing her again only confirmed that thought.

His confusion rapidly morphed into a massive smile. He charged at the elderly woman, throwing his arms around her with the strength of a bear's embrace. “MARJA!!”

"Oof, you've got a strong grip on ya!" the elderly woman chuckled, slapping him hard on the back. "How've you been? Been eatin' well?"

"Yes, ma'am!!"

"Hahah, that's good!" Marja pulled away, resting her hands on Sebek's shoulders. "Everyone in Harveston’s been missing you! They keep asking when you’ll visit again. Having a strapping young farm hand like you around took a load off their shoulders."

"M-Meemaw, you don't have to tell him that," Epel hissed. "Sorry, Sebek-kun... You've, uh... sort of become a local celebrity."

"Ohoh, have I now?" He smirked. "Have you not yet discovered an alternative to lighten your workload? It's impractical for you feeble-bodied humans to carry out the same tasks I assisted you with in the Sledathon season--"

"Sebek."

A gruff voice reminiscent of crackling thunder called his name. At once, he straightened like a soldier greeting his sergeant.

Epel gawked at the older man that approached. He resembled Sebek in many ways--his wild hair, slicked back, a deeper shade of green, slit-shaped pupils, and tall and well-muscled, with a stern aura. His beard was neatly trimmed, and scales dotted the periphery of his rugged face.

Wow, so manly...! So cool...!

"You are acquainted with these humans?” The older man boomed.

“Y-Yes, grandfather!” Sebek gestured to the Felmiers. “This is Marja, the grandmother of my peer, Epel. She is a well-respected figure in their home village, as well as our kind hostess for the Sledathon. As for Epel, he was our team leader and trainer."

His grandfather squinted hard at Epel. “I thought Night Raven College was an all-BOYS school.”

"E-Eh..." Epel visibly tensed, his left eye twitching with the effort it took to restrain himself from flying off the handle. "I'm every bit of a man as Sebek-kun is...!"

Marja laughed. "They call him the Poison Apple of the Felmier family back home! Our Epel's small, but he's a real fighter."

He didn't look impressed.

Sebek hastily intervened.

"Epel, Marja--this is my grandfather, Baur." He puffed his chest out on instinct. "Though he is retired now, he served as the second-in-command to Briar Valley's famed General of the Right! You should be honored to be in his presence!"

"... I don't know what any of that means, but it sounds like you're awfully important. Still, none of that means you can strut around like a rooster and insultin' my Epel."

"Hmph! Enlighten me then, human. What exactly is your grandson capable of?"

"Epel's in the Magift Club. He wears the school colors and zips around on that broom of his, bashin' up the enemy team! No one in Harveston is as skilled as Epel is with a fruit carving knife. And he used to scoff at them city folks. Now he’s got so many friends. His unique magic too! He’s grown so much ever since comin’ to school. We’re so proud of him.”

"Well, Sebek receives top marks in every subject! Not only that, but he maintains a strict training regimen while also tending to his duties as Malleus-sama's retainer. He spends every waking moment of every day dedicating himself to honing his skills to best serve in knighthood! He is the pride and joy of the Zigvolt clan!!"

Marja covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes wide open. "Sebek-san does all of that! What an impressive lad."

"Yes, yes, his efforts are truly commendable..." Baur cut himself off, abruptly dropping his triumphant cheer. "W-Wait one moment, why are you, a lowly, unrelated human, praising MY grandson?!"

"What're ya on 'bout?" Her kindly old face had tightened into a sour expression. A thicker version of the Harveston accent spilled from her. "There ain't no rules 'bout who can ‘n can't say nice things 'bout folks' gran'kids!"

"Such impudence!!" Baur folded his arms, exhaling sharply through his nose. "I've remained impartial until now, but... The overly familiar tone you take with Sebek is irksome. You act as though you are--" he grimaced, "--friends, solely because you happened to house him on one occasion. Do not be so presumptuous!! Be cognizant of your position as a mere human."

"H-Hey, you can't speak to my meemaw like that! And you insulted our Harveston hospitality too...!" Epel protested, stepping in front of his grandma. "Watch your mouth or I'll wallop ya right in it!"

"Bah! I would like to see you try."

"P-Please wait, grandfather!"

Sebek wedged himself between Baur and the Felmiers. His broad body almost entirely shielded Epel and Marja from view--though Baur's shadow still loomed over him. Steeling himself, Sebek stood his ground and met his grandfather's intense gaze.

"Though you may not find any merit in their efforts, I... I cannot say the same for myself!" Sebek's voice trembled as he strained to get the words out. "You are aware of our tribe's aversion to the cold, and of my great appetite. Marja and Epel did not simply do the bare minimum for me as their guest!

"The community provided us with warm clothes to protect against the cold, handmade and tailored to our exact sizes. Not only that, but we were never left wanting for sustenance. There is a wealth of Harveston specialty dishes we indulged in. Their entire culture is predicated on that sense of togetherness. They are eager to share their culture and traditions with their neighbors as well as with travelers. To be so willing to open one's heart to complete strangers... I believe that is admirable!"

"Wh-What...?!" Baur stared at Sebek as though his grandson had just decked him in the face. "What are you saying?! Are you... defending these humans?!"

"A knight's creed states that he must protect the weak and the helpless. I am simply living up to that code!"

"Sebek-kun..."

Marja silently grasped Epel's arm--a warning to leave it be.

Baur frowned deeply.

Those defiant eyes... I recognize them. They're the same as my daughter's.

The daughter that had defied his wishes and gone and married a human man. Many long, tense nights spent screaming and pleading and bargaining, to please reconsider, to shut the ridiculous idea down.

"You're making a grave mistake."

"I refuse to bless your union."

"Humans and fae can never be together. It is a delusion--a fantasy!"

But she took after his stubbornness and refused to listen to reason.

"You're far too optimistic, daughter. Humans took away so much from us. Our land, our resources, our princess. And yet you can find it in yourself to forgive them so easily?!"

“I love my husband. I love our children. I love the life I have with them. Human or fae.. what does it matter what we are, so long as we have that feeling that connects us? To love is not to be fae or to be human. Love is universal so I will tell you every day, father. I will remind you again and again… until the time comes when you can accept our marriage with a smile."

Baur furrowed his brow. Humans and fae, together? I do not understand. Is this the future that has been decided for us?

His heart throbbed painfully, aching at the thought. Confusion, betrayal--tinged with a dash of glowing pride. That's my grandson.

"... You take after your mother," Baur managed. "Always the type to state their mind, even in the face of dissent."

"Yeah, that sounds like Sebek-kun alright..." Epel grumbled.

“HMMMM?!” Baur’s attention suddenly snapped to the young boy. Epel jolted back—but it was pointless. The older man weaved around Sebek and quickly advanced on him. “What did you just say?”

“Th-That it sounds like Sebek-kun…?” Epel meekly repeated. “We have some classes together, so… He argues with the teachers and refuses to help in group projects…”

“So you know of his academic exploits,” Baur concluded, gripping his shoulders. “Then you must tell me all about them!”

“HUH?! I wouldn’t call those examples of exploits…” Epel paled, turning white as snow. He worriedly glanced at Marja and Sebek. “U-Um… a little help here?!”

“What’cha bellyachin’ for? This man spat on what we represent as folks from Harveston!” his grandma huffed. “Show him how tough you are, Epel! KILL HIM WITH KINDNESS, YA HEAR ME?!”

“Marja is right! You must demonstrate your own strengths to my grandfather. Prove to him that you are worthy of calling yourself my classmate!!” Sebek bellowed.

“Both of ya ain’t helpin’ one apple-pickin’ bit!!”

“Enough stalling, tiny human!! You WILL report to me this instant!”

[kunikame]

# PURPLE LILACS !

[11] - the embrace of home (rediscovered) | prev. | m. list | next

ace trappola x fem!reader smau

! warning(s) : readers first attemp at using magic, meowing, ace trappola is literally the sun, cussing, floyd leech, the curse of ra be upon yee

! w/c : 1087

you find yourself sitting on the wooden floor of the living room, back pressed against the old, dusty couch, hands fiddling awkwardly with the thing crowley gave you.

it’s odd, really. despite having seen countless of these things since you arrived in twisted wonderland, you have never once thought you’d be holding, much less possessing one of them.

lost in thought, you missed the 3 knocks that rapped against the entrance, as well as the heavy creaking of the door.

“dude, you will never guess what i just saw–” startling at the sudden voice, you whipped your head to the side only to see the ginger you called over staring intently at your hands, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them be, “is that a magic pen?”

“um, yeah. that’s- that’s what happened with crowley, haha. turns out i have magic, or something. yay!” you performed the most awkward jazz hands humanity has ever had the misfortune to witness and ace dropped all the candy packets in his hands.

“huh?!” he rushed over to you, shaking you by the shoulders, “dude, what?! tell me everything!”

“okay- but stop shaking me, damn. um, so he called me in and he went on about having some research and tests done or whatever, and he was all ‘yeah so you basically have a magical affinity haha, the carriage wouldn’t have brought you here otherwise’ and how it was through ‘unfortunate means’ and stuff. he said we would have to run further tests to fully unlock it so he gave me a magestone for now and called it a day, said it would at least power weaker spells and the like,” a moment of silence passes as you look away from him, thinking your next words through carefully, “i didn’t have to accept it– didn’t want to, initially. but then i remembered, and, yeah. i felt compelled to.”

“remembered?”

“my parents. surely they would feel better knowing i can.. protect myself? and live a relatively ‘normal’ life here, if i went through with it. .. they would, right?”

you looked back up at him, your eyes sparkling a little more than they did before, and despite it being further from the truth than the usual blunt, no bullshit ace trappola would have liked, he found himself agreeing.

“.. yeah. yeah, i’m sure they would. i think they’re proud of you for taking that step towards ensuring your safety.”

ace trappola has never been much of a hugger.

but, then again, he’s never been much of a liar, either.

in the warm embrace of your newfound friend, you rediscovered something you missed so dearly, and you sobbed.

not purely over the circumstances you found yourself in, but also because ace was warm.

one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back while the other found itself in your hair, ace was gentle. somehow barely there yet completely enveloping you at the same time, his presence ghosting over you, like a soft blanket on cold winter nights. like the gentle caress of your mothers hand, and your fathers warmth as he sat next to you on the couch. ace trappola felt as warm as the sun, almost like the everlight orb shone purely on him, illuminating his existence– and ace sucked it all up like it was nothing, readily sharing the light and heat with his peers– with you.

ace trappola embodied not only the warmth of the sun, but also the comfort of home.

amidst your sobbing, the loud thumping of a heartbeat went unnoticed.

a short while after your breakdown, you find yourself completing the finishing touches on floyds clay figurine– or ‘floyd jr’, as he likes to call it– with ace by your side, scrolling on his phone while also keeping a steady eye on you.

eventually he discarded his phone completely, his attention now on the creature in your hands. this version of floyd looks far less terrifying than the real one, at least it can’t tackle him at basketball practice, he thinks.

“don’t you want to try it out?”

you hum a questioning tune, eyes flickering up to him for a mere moment, then immediately shooting back to mini floyds hat.

“your magic. it might make it easier to make these. and it’d be a good way to see if it works.”

he did have a point, but you’re almost done with this one and you don’t really want to risk ruining it.

then you remembered some left over fabric from a previous project, and rushed to your room to grab it– you just hoped it would be enough for what you have in mind.

once you returned to your position on the living room floor and cleaned off the table to not break anything that was on it, you grabbed the magic pen and envisioned your creation. ace sat with bated breath (which he will not be caught alive admitting) and as he watched you flick the pen, the fabrics were sent flying all over the room.

“oh.”

“.. maybe it was too complicated a vision for a first time spell.”

you retrieved the fabrics to try again, with a less taxing version of the project in mind.

this time, after a gentle flick of your wrist, the fabrics floated up slowly. they began to weave together with matching colors of threads, the scarlet and whites forming the pattern of the heartslabyul uniforms, while the vermillion floated up to the top of the doll, settling on its head in a messy mop of ginger hair.

once it was finished, the plush doll fell on the desk with a loud plop, conveniently standing up and staring you directly in the eyes.

a short silence settled upon the room then– you didn’t think you could actually do that!

ace reached out for the plushie with shaky hands, slowly lifting it to his face, studying it intently.

“is.. is that me?”

“yeah! i tried my best to make it look like you, at least, haha. i wanted to thank you for, y’know, keeping my secret, and being there for me, or whatever. so, yeah, thanks. you’re not as much of an ass as i initially thought you were, so you get your own merch, like all the people precious to me here.”

‘like all the people precious to me here.’

he’s precious to you? all he’s doing is lying to your face.

but instead of saying that, he smiles, “you’re precious to me, too.”

## ❝ after the events of the phantom bride wedding, ace started wondering whether he still had the ability to charm girls. he hasn’t thought about anyone romantically in years, hasn’t really flirted with anyone either, what if he’s gone out of it? perhaps it’s time to put his talents to the test; with the person who hates him most, no less. if he can charm her, he can charm anyone. ❞

#TAGLIST ! : @solxima @gabirii @lunavixia @y2unagiz @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @borlining @verity-moon @myunghology @doughnuts-eater @lifeless-bug @babygurlenthusiast @shirishere @xopeach @stormyovent0aster @bontensbabygirl @ars-tral @wrathy-mcwrathface @sinofthesloth @skeet-2 @everettelz @sakuram1nt @shatiyuh @ambigrueity @junebunny06 @norylight @dyedracoonhair @persm1net @meowbuscompany @sugarrush-blush @oopsie-daisy-doo @yuumei-strawberry-shortcake @jaiistg @erigaur // ask/comment or fill form to be added/removed! (if you’re in bold i can’t tag you)

[bambi-kinos]

You said in the other post, Paul understands the inner workings of other people well enough, so he's probably not autistic.

What do you think about his poor self awareness? And the (supposed) problem with touching people. And the fact that he often hurts people and is then baffled by it when they tell him?

I'd love to hear more of your opinion!

I think Paul's cold persona, reluctance to touch people, and not understanding when he's hurting people is all related to his personal stubbornness, PTSD, and radical self preservation.

It's hard to explain why Paul is the way he is so I don't blame anyone for thinking he's autistic and I actually agree that he leans that way a bit more than the other Beatles do, it's not coming out of no where. There's a missing coupler between Paul and the rest of mankind. But I think for Paul it is more emotional than a genuine difference in brain structure as compared to allistics. Paul perfectly understands facial expressions, changes in vocal tone and body posture, all that stuff. The disconnect is a deliberate choice on Paul's part to not accept other peoples' feelings in order to protect himself from harm.

A lot of it stems from Mary passing away and how Paul's family did stupid fucking shit for no reason in reponse. Like at one point Paul and Mike were off in their room crying because DUH THEIR MOM HAD FUCKING DIED AND THEY WERE UPSET and one of the aunts came in and told them to stop it because they were hurting Jim when they cried??? LMAO?????????? Then Jim made it worse by having his fits and would belt Paul across the face when Paul talked back to him. (And the thing is we know Paul's family realized this was wrong because one of Paul's aunts later claimed that Jim never hit the kids despite testimonies from Paul and Mike about the "bashings." It's easy to dismiss this stuff as "well it was a different time" and there is truth to that but I find it telling that the McCartneys tried to hide Jim hitting his sons despite corporeal punishment being encouraged and embraced by society at large until like, the 1990s at best. Almost as if Jim's abuse was something shameful no matter how encouraged or recommended it was by his peers.)

The point is I think that this means that Paul learned early on that no one gave a shit when he expressed his feelings and that he would actively be punished and savaged for it if he did. It's commonly understood that he's repressed as a result but it seems less understood that this is the likely source of Paul's inner well of rage. Brian's comment that Paul is an angry person is a really fascinating insight into a man that we would not ordinarily call angry. So where is the anger coming from? What did it do to Paul and his relationships?

That kind of upbringing and Paul's natural tendencies to withdraw into himself means that he learned to protect himself early. If he's getting yelled at and punched by his own family members for minor infractions like "crying when my mother dies" and "I want to hang out with my boyfriend" then I don't see why he wouldn't be a seething ball of anger and resentment. It's still present in recent memory with the Howard Stern interview where Paul talked about Jim hitting him and how Paul eventually managed to stop it by saying "Go on do it again!" At which point it stopped being fun and the wind came out of Jim's sails. Never happened again. (Funny how that works isn't it?) Paul is extremely sensitive to being mistreated and knows whose fault it is when he is punished for being human. He doesn't accept being scapegoated for something he didn't do.

That seething anger and resentment turned Paul into someone who had to hide everything for his own safety. And it made him someone who locks people out because he doesn't want to do the emotional labor of giving a shit about their opinions and feelings, it always backfires and it always hurts him. No one, absolutely no one except Linda, ever reciprocated his vulnerability and trust. Paul actively had to hide his grief over Mary's death because his aunts got mad at him over it. He tried to split time between his father and John when they both wanted him resulting in one of those two guys physically attacking him over it, and it wasn't the one who has a reputation for being a wifebeater!

That is what makes Paul choosing John over Jim so momentous. That was when Paul decided that he wasn't going to care about Jim's feelings anymore. He no longer took his POV into account. Jim did nothing but hurt him when Paul needed him to be a dad. Refused to be understanding, even struck him when Paul defied him. This set a much bigger pattern that persists today where Paul refuses to perform the emotional labor of getting invested in other people and their feelings. He tried that for years for his own father, look where it got him? He had to shed that completely just to make it to the fucking Cavern much less as an international superstar.

But this also has a knock on effect. If Paul stops giving weight to the emotional input of the closest people around him and then the people who aren't close to him, then he effectively loses the skill of pausing for a second and thinking "what will happen to other people if I do this, will I inconvenience someone? Will they be ticked off at me? Am I hurting someone if I do this?" That's not so bad when he's climbing to the top but it is a bigger problem when he's trying to function as a human being outside of the paranoid shithole that was Forthlin Road.

I think that Paul is frightened of and resentful about having to care what people think (remember how pissed off he would get when he got bad grades in school from teachers who got sexually excited from caning students) and that this wellspring of emotion has never dried up inside him. The original targets of his rage are dead and gone but the rage still remains because justice was never served and Paul didn't get closure. Those self defense mechanisms don't disappear when he is happy and comfortable which means that he accidentally hurts John when John tries to open up to him and that he's callous to Linda when she's having issues in their relationship. This is because the last time Paul gave a shit about how his actions appeared to others, his own father slapped him for it or his own aunt told him that being sad wasn't allowed because it hurt daddy's feelings or his three best friends spent 2 years trying to bully him into signing with a crook even going so far as to character assassinate him in the press.

It's akin to scar tissue IMO, Paul has accumulated a lot of it and it interferes with his ability to be self aware and his attempts at physical affection. If you get hurt in the wrong place and develop scar tissue then you can't extend your arm or leg to its fullest extent. Paul suffers from the same thing, just emotionally. He cannot afford to care what people think of him which really means he has to shoot from the hip and hope his instincts land him in the right place.

Like it is true that Paul is affected by internalized homophobia and ohhh societehhhhh and all that so he struggles to express himself because oh my god what if the gay and oh my god i look like a girl what if they treat me like i'm a giiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrllllllllll. But a much more fundamental insecurity is that no one in Paul's immediate circle was willing to make room for his true feelings without judgment when it mattered. His friends and family members happily used that against him to abuse him and had the goddamn gall to pat themselves on the back for it lmao. That's been a major theme in Paul's life and I 100% think that "lack of self awareness" is a defense mechanism he developed so that he protects himself from the burden of expectations. Thinking of himself in the eye of others means opening himself up to their judgment and that's deadly for him. Otherwise he'd be running in 20 different directions trying to make everyone happy which is exactly what he ended up doing when the Beatles were breaking up, with the exact same results of his friends/family members ganging up on him and using his emotional investment in them against him. Which is exactly what Jim tried to do with Paul becoming a Beatle in the first place. Once again it took someone else stiffening Paul's spine (in this case Linda) to get Paul out of the emotional labor pit.

And the thing is Linda Eastman is the only person in the world aside from Paul's kids that didn't try to use Paul's stumbling atrophied attempts at vulnerability against him, ever. She could give him hell in other ways but she never did the below the belt tactics that everyone else in Paul's life (except for Mike) used against him. Paul made a literal physical monument to Linda in response:

And I'll be honest dude I'm 100% projecting here but I find Paul's upbringing very relatable. Those are internal conclusions I came to years ago as well, even up to fielding accusations from other people of not being human and other snide insults John tried throwing at him in Melody Maker. Like no cuz we're perfectly human we're just not going to waste that humanity on you specifically because look what you do with it every time. Ain't no one got time for that.

When Paul says that he feels confused by someone expressing their pain, he's referring to finding out that they were in pain after the fact like when he found out like 13 years later that John was mad at him for not composing the Family Way movie score with him. That is what Paul finds baffling, because he's not going to perceive that in real time (why the fuck would he) and he's sure as hell not going to waste brain power on it. If it is actually that important then someone can bring it up with him again later.

I do know there is a quote floating around about Paul having to tell John to stop adding personal expenses to the Apple account and that Paul was nervous about having to tell John the bad news. I read that more as Paul being bewildered that he was the only one who seemed to be taking these things seriously despite the other Beatles being just as greedy as he was. However it has also been a long time since I read it so I wouldn't stand on that.

Paul ignores other people and their feelings as a self defense mechanism which results in him repressing his natural inclinations for affectionate gestures and reciprocal relationships. Notice that his most natural looking photos are with his wives and children, no one else. He refuses to spend energy on other people after a life time of being pushed around and used and stabbed in the back. No matter what sort of therapeutic language gets thrown around there's no shaking the results of decades of experience. This has become such a foundational building block to his person that it is to Paul what having a beer with dinner is to other people. He isn't even aware that it is something he is doing and has to actively fight it because it is so unconscious.

And that is a lot of things, none of them very good. But I don't believe it makes Paul autistic. It is a separate complex that presents in a very similar way to autism without being the same thing.

[drewsbuzzcut]

Behind The Scenes

Mat Barza x fem!model!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: some jealousy, a guy being a creep, smut, pregnancy, being naked, mentions nerves

Takes place early 2025

“I’m cold,” you complain with a shiver and scoot closer to Mat, letting his warmth heat up your body.

Right now you’re both on set for a photoshoot with Vogue. You and Mat are going to be on the cover, which is one of the biggest honors and you’re so excited. Aside from this being a big time shoot, you and your boyfriend are also announcing your first pregnancy to the world. You’re excited and nervous while Mat cannot stop talking about it. You’re happy that he’s excited and that he’s doing this cover with you.

“Come here, baby. Let me warm you up,” he wraps his arms around you, his large hands resting on the expanse of your back. He quickly makes all of your goosebumps disappear as if they were never there.

“I’m really nervous. This is going to be big news. Everyone is going to freak out,” you pout at him.

Gently, you cup his cheeks and squish them together. It earns your boyfriend’s famous cackle and it makes your heart melt.

“It’s exciting. I think I might’ve been a model in my past life,” he says and sways you in his arms. He fidgets with the seam of your robe, immediately alerting you that he has some nerves.

“I mean if all else fails, you have modeling to fall back on,” you roll your eyes as you tease him. You hope that it’ll wash away his hidden nerves.

“Haha,” he shakes his head with sass and it makes you giggle.

“Y/n and Mat, we’re ready for you,” an assistant informs you.

“Ready Mr. super model?” You ask, carding your fingers through his already tousled hair.

“So ready!” He guides you to the setup, eyes glued on you as you peel off your robe.

It’s the one thing he doesn’t like about today. The inspiration behind this photo shoot is being comfortable in your own skin and embracing the simplicity of being bare with someone you’re comfortable with. Mat doesn’t have a problem with it at all, he’s confident with his body and you’re confident with your body. The problem is that everyone who’s behind the scenes will see your breasts. Your breasts that have grown with being pregnant, and that are for his eyes only. Mat usually wouldn’t mind because it’s your job and he’d never tell you what to do or not to do with your body. For him, it’s mainly about the people gawking at you with no shame. It makes his skin crawl with jealousy.

“Pose 1, guys.”

You and Mat both stand, your chest pressed into his bare one while he rests his hands on your hips. You stare into his eyes while the cameras flash around you, partially thankful that this first round will only focus on your bodies. He mouths a silent “I love you” and you slightly lean up to kiss him.

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips.

Mat can’t help but take in your soft features and the way your eyes softly peer into his. He wishes he can caress your cheeks the way he usually would when you flash him a loving expression.

You smile at the way his hands flex over your hips. You know him well enough to know that he’d put his hands on your cheeks if he could.

Soft moments like these make it seem like everything around you disappears. The cameras aren’t on you or your baby daddy and it’s just you two in the room.

It sadly doesn’t last long.

“Pose 2!”

Mat moves to sit on the floor with one leg propped up. You straddle his lap and hold onto the sides of his torso. His hands go to your ass, giving you a hearty squeeze that makes you giggle.

“Sorry, I had to. Your ass looks too good in these jeans,” Mat muses, eyebrows lifting in a casual cool sense.

A red, hot flush fills your cheeks adding to your already glowing skin. You love the way Mat always gives you attention. It’s like he was born to compliment and love you.

He’s so sexy.

“Okay, this angle isn’t working so we need to see your side profiles. Mat, we need you to smolder and Y/n, do your open mouth pout with your head tilted back. You’re going to have your breasts right under his chin,” the photographer guides you.

Mat feels his chest tighten when he realizes everyone will get a good look at your boobs. He has a hard time not making eye contact with those who stare at you like they’ve never seen a pair of boobs in their entire lives. Even the bright flash can’t distract him. At least your thumb swiping at the skin of his torso helps him relax.

“Great! Y/n, you look amazing,” one of the assistants says, making Mat snarl at him. It’s almost like he isn’t even there, posing in the same picture.

“Okay! Next pose.”

Mat moves to fully face the camera while you move to his side, hugging his arm and blocking your nudity from the camera. As you do so, Mat watches the eyes of many men who can’t seem to look away. As you were adjusting your pose, your breasts were out in the open and those guys took it as the perfect opportunity to stare.

He lets out a silent huff which gathers your attention.

“What’s wrong?” You ask after a picture is taken.

“These men keep staring at you like you’re something to eat and it doesn’t sit right with me,” he explains, trying not to let his facial features show his jealousy. It doesn’t work, though. His face is set in a frown and his lips are pouty.

You kiss his jaw and nudge your nose into his skin.

“I love you, baby, but they’re just making sure we’re all doing what we’re supposed to do,” you reason with him.

You’re used to being exposed around many people and sometimes their eyes tend to wander for longer than usual, but it’s never bothered you. You can understand your boyfriend, though. He’s not used to everyone seeing you.

“Well, they don’t need to be staring at you,” he grunts.

You turn his face towards yours and slant your lips over his. Something about him being jealous turns you on. It shows just how much he craves you, despite being pregnant and it’s an ego boost.

“You’re so hot,” you whisper, eyes darkening with lust.

Quickly his mood flips and he’s matching your smirk with one of his own.

“One more before break!” You’re both snapped out of your lustrous haze.

For this photo, it’s just you. You lay out on the floor with your hair fanning out around your head. You cover your breasts with your hands just so the main focus can be your growing bump.

The main photographer lets her apprentice take a few shots. He’s standing above you, getting a bird’s eye view while Mat seethes in the back.

“Damn, you’re one lucky guy. The rack on her is insane,” Mat hears to his side.

His blood boils and the veins in his neck start to pop out. Does that guy know who he’s talking to?

“Excuse you?” Mat says finally turning to see who was audacious enough to utter those words.

“You’re one lucky man. I bet you hit that every night. I know I would,” the other guy groans, eyes locked in on you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Have some fucking respect and take your eyes off my wife,” Mat growls, stepping closer to the jerk.

He’s done with these guys thinking they can just stare at what’s his. There’s also no way in hell Mat would ever let a man talk so crudely about another woman, let alone his girl.

“Dude chill!”

“I’m not your ‘dude.’ You need to keep your fucking mouth shut,” Mat almost roars and everyone stops what they’re doing.

You hurriedly pull on your robe and make your way to the scene.

“Are you okay?” You ask your man, hands coming to rest on his heaving chest. His skin is hot under your palms. His eyes hold even more fire.

“Everything’s fine because he will be leaving,” Mat claims, not asking permission for this guy to be thrown out.

“No way!” The guy yells.

“Can we get this guy out of here, he’s causing unnecessary issues,” you ask a higher up.

Everyone moves in a haste to get the guy off set and make sure everything is all good.

“Everyone take 30!”

You cup Mat’s cheeks and stare into his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re fine?”

“I am now,” he whispers, pulling you into a chaste kiss that isn’t enough for you.

He moves you to a secluded corner, crowding you into the wall with his muscled frame. Mat inhales a deep breath and looks around at your surroundings. Even though you’re both hidden, people can still be heard and partially seen.

Allowing his emotions to drive his actions, he pulls your lips to his by the back of your neck. Your hands eagerly hold onto his firm body. His tongue thrusts into your mouth, dominating yours as one of your legs comes up to wrap over his hips. You try to grind against him as you feel the wanton need for friction take over.

“Are you wet?” He asks against the shell of your ear, his lip dragging down the side of your face.

“Yes,” you respond, nodding your head just in case he doesn’t hear you.

“It’s all for you,” you state, pulling him into another kiss.

“Damn right. You’re my girl and you’re carrying my baby,” your boyfriend claims, a hand rubbing your small bump.

“Fuck me, Maty,” you whine and pull him impossibly closer to you. You don’t care if there is people around or if he fucks you into the wall. You just want his cock inside of you.

“Come with me,” he says, pulling you back to the most recent setup.

It’s a king size bed made up with cream colored bedding. It’s displayed for the next round of photos, but Mat would never have sex with you in an uncomfortable position- especially while you’re pregnant. So for now, the bed is yours and he’s about to take you on it.

You pull him into another kiss as he lays you down, your legs coming to wrap around his waist. Your boyfriend sits up on his knees, his hands reaching out to pull off your jeans and robe. You lay bare in front of him, feeling warmth cascade over you. He pulls down his own pants and underwear, leaning over you to caress your body with his lips.

“Who do you belong to?” He questions, lips right next to your ear and his fingers collecting your wetness.

“You,” you whine and rut your hips up into his hand, desperate to feel him fill you up.

“Who?” He teases, fisting himself before guiding his tip to your entrance.

“You,” you gasp as he slides into with an ease that’s only possible with being pregnant. When you get wet, you get wet.

“Oh my god,” you moan, hands gripping the sheets underneath you. The feeling of him sliding into you takes you to another planet.

“Look at you dripping for me,” he grunts, hands on your hips as he starts to fasten his pace.

He’s hard and heavy, snug between your wet walls. The thick head of his cock nudges deep inside of you, making you clench down on him.

“It’s all for you,” you moan and rut your hips up into his movements.

He cups your bouncing breasts, eliciting a squeal due to the sensitivity. Your arousal drips down his shaft, drawing Mat’s attention to where he’s splitting you open. Your pussy sucks him in and pulls away every shred of sanity he has left.

“Your pussy is mine,” he moans, pushing your legs as far into your chest as possible. He pounds into you, a thick finger coming down to circle your clit.

“All yours, baby,” you whine.

“You take my cock so well baby,” he praises you, words sweet but cocky.

His eyes are molten and you can feel the heat wash over you as he stares at you.

Whimpers and the squelching of wet skin hitting wet skin echo off the walls. You flutter around him, your greedy hands reach out to wherever you can reach. Your blunt nails dig into his skin, leaving angry red lines behind.

“I’m cumming,” you scream as you release around him.

Your entire body tenses up before the brunt of your orgasm crashes into you. Your body arches off the bed and full body chills work their way on your body.

“You’re so sexy carrying my baby. You enjoy being pumped with my cum, don’t you? I’m going to keep fucking you until you’re dripping with my cum,” he heaves out through his labored breathing.

His hips snap into yours and you can feel him pulse inside of you. Thick ropes of cum paint your walls as he stills his movements and then he pulls out to spurt the rest on your mound. His abdomen twitches, his own orgasm crashing into him with a heavy force. Sweat drips down his pretty face and his curls stick to his forehead.

As he catches his breath, he watches his release spill out of your spent hole. It’s a sight he’ll never get over, especially how you flutter around nothing because you miss the feeling of being full.

“I love you,” you sigh, finally coming back down.

He rubs his cock against your pussy, making sure to collect every single drop of cum. Soon he’s fucking his cum back into you and you feel another knot form in your tummy.

“I love you, baby. Your fucking pussy was made for me,” he responds, eyes closed and head tossed back.

His hips slowly rock into you and before you know it, your walls are collapsing on him again. You tremble as you welcome the surge of electricity to hurdle through your body.

“Just like that, baby. I love you,” he whispers against your lips. He continues to slowly thrust into you, hips moving like honey.

You softly push at him before you can feel the effects of your overstimulated muscles.

He carefully rolls off of you, but pulls you back into his side. He caresses your body with gentle hands- a stark contrast to the roughness he just displayed.

“Are you okay?” He kisses your temple, moving your sweaty hair away from your face.

“Perfect,” you reply as you kiss on his neck.

You rub at his torso and watch how he reacts to your touch. There’s nothing more appealing than your man becoming weak at the tips of your fingers. It makes your core tighten and drip with arousal, or it could just be his release pooling out of you again.

“You’re so sexy, baby,” he rasps, mouth coming down to catch one of your nipples.

You lean into his affection, blood pumping with fervor all over again. Being pregnant has made you incredibly insatiable and with Mat being incredibly beautiful, you cannot get enough of him.

“We have like 5 minutes left,” you inform him.

He cocks an eyebrow up and smirks at you. He quickly moves down your body, spreading you open, and eats your pussy like the starved man he is.

5 minutes later, no one questions your unkempt hair or the content grins you both wear.

a/n: Sorry this has taken so long😭 I hope you all enjoy this!!