#and this is the same scene from that episode 2 still!!!!

[kabr0ztrousers]

Bull hybrid cowboy x chubby fem reader. He runs a little ranch all by himself no one for miles and her car just so happens to break down near his road. He offers her a ride into town but ends up kidnapping her. Would love it if he ties her up and shows her all the reasons why she should stay with him.

Hmm... Now do I write another hucow scene or don't I? Only kidding, you all know where this is going.

Kabr0z Writes Episode 34: Free Range

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: kidnap; dubcon; noncon; lactation; impregnation;

A/N: Thanks again for the steady stream of requests, you lot! Remember if you want to see something, want me to revisit a kink or scenario I've done before, or have a totally new idea, let me know and it'll probably happen!

######################################

You loved that little shitbox of a car, mid 2000's spec, old enough to drink and still going strong. Up until about 5 miles back. You were on a tiny country road in the middle of the night, cruising at 60, when you heard an almighty bang followed by a jangling noise. Your revs went through the roof for a moment before you started to coast. By the time you stopped and inspected the damage you'd already figured out what happened. The jaunty angle of the gearstick and the lack of any resistance on it meant your gears were probably strewn across several hundred metres of road. At least your engine still worked so you had light, heat, and BBC 2.

You didn't, however have any phone signal.

So you sat in the layby in your car, idling the engine to keep the battery running and listening to the 80s. Sleeping in a running car seems like something that's probably illegal, but you figured if the police found you, they could probably give you a tow to go with the fine. Hopefully you'd make it to morning and then walk however far the nearest town is to call your insurance.

A horn behind you shocked you out of your thoughts. You looked around as a rugged 4x4 pulled level with you. A window rolled down and the driver motioned for you to do the same.

He was a bull hybrid, horns wreathing his head, a thick gold ring adorning his nose. "Need a tow?"

"Yeah, I think my gearbox is fucked" you smiled at him

"That'll do it for you, I can get you to town if you want, climb in"

You got out of your car and into his, grateful for the save. He hooked a rope from his car to yours and pulled away, your stricken vehicle in tow.

You didn't think anything of the route he took, country lanes are far too narrow to turn around in, especially in a big vehicle like this one, but you'd been travelling for a while. It's not like he wasn't charming, softly spoken with just a hint of an accent, apparently he had a herd of dairy cattle that he pastured around the area, and you were being regaled about the trade. The radio in the car gently playing some tiny local station or other, predominantly focusing on spinning old records and talking about the weather.

Suspicion set in when you turned off the road, he was taking you up a gravel track in the pitch-dark. He seemed to know the area pretty well but you figured that to get to civilization, you should probably be following the asphalt rather than abandoning it.

He pulled up at a house and turned off the engine, shoving the keys into his pocket "Come on, let's get inside"

You got out and bolted away from the house. You're not stupid enough to follow him in, you'd only just met!

He was faster than you. You'd barely made it twenty yards when you were tackled to the ground. The bull huffed as he tied your ankles together and hefted you over his shoulder. You hit and struggled against him, but he only chuckled at your assault. "Spirited, aren't you?" He opened his door and carried you over the threshold "You'll do fine here"

He put you down onto a plush sofa and sat in a chair opposite to you. Minutes passed in silence, you sullenly staring at him, him eyeing you up like a cut of meat.

"What will you do with me?" You spat at him

"Honestly, I'm not sure. You seemed like a soft townie when I picked you up. I'd thought maybe let you call for a tow, give you a coffee, and maybe a roll in the hay." He was still staring at you

"But?" You felt like there was a but coming

"But, you're not badly built, and you're not such a pushover. Now I'm deciding if I want a wife or not"

You recoiled at his comment "If you think I'm marrying you, you can fuck off!"

He shrugged and got up "Plan B then. With hips and tits like those you'll be a good fit"

He lifted you into a seated position and tore off your top, baring your chest and the rolls of your tummy. He grabbed one of your tits and hefted it "Natural, very good"

If looks could kill, you would've atomised him. As it was he merely met your gaze as he roughly inspected you.

"I was right, you'll do excellently" He picked you up again and swung you over his shoulder before carrying you outside. He crossed a field, not caring about your yelling and screaming for help. He knew nobody was around for miles, even if someone heard you they wouldn't be able to help you. He pushed open a barn door and carried you in, putting you down on a pile of straw "I'll see you tomorrow"

He left you there. The ropes were tied tightly around your ankles. You struggled against them until your fingers went numb to no avail. The other occupants of the barn stirred with your struggling. Your eyes were adjusting to the gloom, you could just about make them out.

They were other women. Some cow hybrids, some not. All of them plump, many pregnant. They looked at you with big doe eyes, curiosity on their faces as they regarded you.

The first one put her arms around you in a hug, then another and another until you were smothered in a dozen round women, their full breasts pressing against you as they started to doze off on you. Stuck there in the centre of the cuddle pile, you couldn't help your eyelids getting heavy, your head cushioned against a plush belly as sleep claimed you too.

You woke with the dawn. The other women mooing eagerly and dispersing around the barn. The bull man from last night opened the door and stepped in. He looked over at you before settling to work. One by one he attached milking cups to the other women, who each settled down contentedly as the machines pumped them, the milk being drawn into tanks at one end of the barn.

Finally he got to you.

"Enjoy your night?"

You spat at him. He laughed.

"Damn, I wish you'd reconsider being my wife. As it is, I can still put a calf in you." He lifted you and carried you to a fence, tying your arms to it before cutting your ankles free.

Your tits swung below you as he pulled your hips up and hiked your skirt up. He tore a hole in your tights, revealing your pussy. You screamed as he started to lick you, his thick tongue penetrating you already as he fingered your clit. You felt your skin flush as your body responded to him, getting wet and ready for him. His licking and stroking was drawing you in, until you quivered with a tearful orgasm.

You felt him straighten up behind you. He lay his cock on your back and you shivered with the length of it before he pulled back and started to ease the tip in, crooning as he went "You're doing great, girl, just a little more, a little more"

The sound of his voice was making you wetter than his tongue did. You whimpered from the fullness from his cock pushing slowly into you, stretching you out. Your hips were pushing back against him, sending waves of motion up your body. He started to push harder, move faster. Your whimpers turned to blissful sobs and whines as you sped towards your next orgasm, the length and girth of him getting you off all by itself. When he squeezed your hips it was too much. Your body tried to push back, but it didn't need to. He could feel your impending orgasm and hilted himself in you, tiny thrusts slapping his balls against your clit and driving you over the edge. He started to throb and pulse in you as your cunt clenched around him. His thrusts were fast and deep, he was close and wasn't going to cum anywhere but inside you. His pounding on your cervix was getting to you, as was his gripping your waist and your hips, and the jolting swaying of your tits. He pushed a hand between your legs and circled his fingers over your clit. You came again. This time he joined in. Your moans and grunts mingled as the other women watched you, still mooing in euphoria from being attached to the pumps.

He stayed inside you, his cock still giving occasional pumps of cum. His huge hands tracing patterns on your back and rubbing your aching muscles. Then he pulled out, and you heard a spatter of his cum fall out of you and onto the straw below. He cut your arms free and helped you off the railings, laying you on the straw.

"I treat my ladies well, you'll see"

A month has passed since you joined the herd. You spend your mornings hooked up to the milking machines, your afternoons lounging in the fields munching clover and enjoying the company of your new friends, then in the evenings Aaron, as you leaned his name, would often visit you and put another load in you. You're already late on your period, you just haven't told him yet.

Yeah, you're giving up some freedoms, and you're pretty sure you're getting dumber

But it sure beats your old job

###################################

Postscript: A bit of an experiment in trying to split the difference between "awful human farm" and not being overly horrible to the POV character. Hopefully it hits the mark nicely. Who knows, I may do a continuation or a "what if" where it goes into fluffy marital sex between Aaron and Fem!Reader...

At any rate, this is your periodic reminder that my ask box and DMs are always open, and to not hold back on your requests! I'm not in the habit of airing anyone's dirty laundry so if you do cross some unforeseen line the worst you'll get is a no

[iamquiantrelle]

SO INTO YOU ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairings: aurelien tchouameni x black reader (✨💕) # wc: 5.9k

# tags: @sucredreamer @snowseasonmademe @jessnotwiththemess @rougereds @judectrl @mufasathatniggatho @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro

# summary: you’re a multiple grammy winning artist with a record breaking single based on an embarrassing crush on a footballer & when that single demands visuals who else do you ask to be your video vixen besides said footballer crush? but is he also willing to blow your back out too? ♡ masterlist

You were never drinking tequila again. Ever.

The tequila bottle sat empty on your coffee table like evidence from a crime scene, mocking you with memories of last night's social media bravery. Your Grammy awards caught the morning light, their gold surfaces throwing judgmental sparkles across your living room walls. You'd really done it this time - slid into Aurélien Tchouaméni's DMs like your verified check mark gave you the right to disturb his peace at 2 AM.

Your manager Carmen sat in the armchair across from you, tablet in hand as she went through tomorrow's flight details to Madrid. But your attention kept drifting to your phone, to that cursed Instagram conversation where you'd actually typed out "hey, random question but would you maybe want to be in my music video? no pressure lol" - asking him to star in your video for "So Into You," a song that lived in that dangerous space between confession and plausible deniability.

“Earth to lovergirl,” Carmen's professional tone carried just a hint of amusement. “You good? Or still having flashbacks to drunk-texting one of football's finest?”

His response still sat there in your DMs, casual as anything: “The song that's breaking records? I'd be down. Though I have to ask - any particular reason you thought of me? 😉”

You'd screamed into three different pillows after reading that.

“I still can't believe he said yes,” you mumbled, sinking deeper into the couch as Carmen scrolled through your embarrassing Instagram activity history with restrained glee. The evidence was damning: every single post liked within seconds, story reactions that probably made you look unhinged, the way you'd set notifications for his account months ago after that first video blessed your FYP.

It had been innocent enough at first - a clip of him in a post-match interview, fresh taper fade catching the stadium lights. Something about the way he carried himself, that quiet confidence wrapped in genuine humility, had you hitting that follow button before the video even finished. The way he'd laugh with his whole chest in interviews, how he could switch from intense focus on the field to the sweetest smile off it - you were gone before you even realized you were falling.

Your best friend had watched your descent with barely contained amusement. “Not you making a whole Tumblr shrine," she'd cackled one wine night, scrolling through @tchouamenithoughts. “Day 43 of manifesting Aurélien Tchouaméni to ruin my life’? Girl...”

“Listen,” you groaned now, watching Carmen pull up the same account on her phone, “we all cope differently.”

“Cope? You wrote a whole chart-topping song about how he 'controls the game like he could control your heart.' That's not coping, that's down catastrophic,” she said, maintaining her composure even as her eyes danced with mirth.

She wasn't wrong. You'd lost hours to The Bridge episodes, team interviews, even compilation videos of his best plays. You'd lost count of how many times you'd woken up hot and bothered from dreams featuring that TCHM chain of his dangling above you, his knowing smile as he– nope. Not going there. Not when you were about to meet him in person.

Your phone lit up with a text from an unknown Spanish number:

“Looking forward to finally meeting tomorrow. Been keeping those 2AM DMs for motivation during training 😊 - AT”

“Oh my god,” you breathed, showing Carmen the screen. “He saved the messages.”

“Of course he did,” she said, checking something on her tablet. “You really think he didn't notice how you watch every single one of his Instagram lives? Even the 3 AM ones after matches where he's just vibing to Afrobeats in his gym? Those thirst traps?”

The way he moved to those beats had no business living rent-free in your head like it did. Neither did the way his eyes got soft when he talked about his family in interviews, or how that dangerous half-smirk would appear after a particularly clean tackle. You'd documented it all on your Tumblr, built whole theories around his personality based on how he interacted with teammates, analyzed every public appearance like it was your job.

“What if he found it?" The thought hit you suddenly. “The Tumblr account?”

Carmen's composed expression cracked slightly with a knowing smile. “Girl, if he has, he still said yes to the video. What does that tell you?”

You didn't want to think about what that might mean. Couldn't let yourself hope that maybe he'd noticed you too, that perhaps those quick likes on your Instagram stories weren't just courtesy, that the way he'd immediately responded to your drunk DM meant something.

Tomorrow you'd be in Madrid. Tomorrow you'd see if that confidence you'd analyzed in countless videos translated in person, if his smile was really as dangerous as it seemed through a screen.

“Make sure you pack some lingerie,” Carmen said as she gathered her things, a slight smirk playing at her lips. “Just in case those Tumblr manifestations worked.”

You buried your face in a throw pillow, but your heart was already racing at the possibility.

**************************************************

The Madrid morning sun painted the makeup room in ethereal hues, casting everything in a dreamlike glow that did nothing to settle your nerves. You sat still as the artist perfected your look - soft glam that highlighted your warm brown skin, each baby hair laid with precision, curls falling in a carefully crafted cascade. The "effortlessly gorgeous" aesthetic you'd aimed for had, ironically, required a 5 AM start.

“He's here,” your assistant's voice cut through your reverie, and your heart performed a gymnastics routine worthy of Olympic qualification.

Here's the thing about Aurélien Tchouaméni - all the 4K footage in the world, every professional photograph, every high-definition broadcast couldn't capture what he was in person. The way he commanded space wasn't something a camera could translate.

He had to duck slightly entering the room (had he always been that tall?), the morning light catching him like it knew exactly what it was doing. The fitted white tee and designer jeans he wore were deceptively simple, the kind of casual that required serious thought. That signature "TCHM" pendant caught the light as he moved, the diamond Cuban link chain you'd written dissertations about on Tumblr proving worthy of every analysis. You'd watched enough matches to know his height, studied enough footage to know his build, but something about him actually being there, all 6'2" of him absolutely dominating the space, had your carefully constructed composure threatening to crumble.

“So," he said, that dangerous half-smile playing at his lips as he approached, “you're the one who slid in my DMs at 2 AM?”

The ground could swallow you whole any minute now. His French accent in person was a weapon that should be classified as illegal. “Listen, about that–“

“Nah, don't apologize," he laughed, the sound rich enough to drown in. "It was cute. Especially that part about my ball control being 'unfairly hot.'”

"Please tell me you're joking," you groaned, but you couldn't help smiling. His presence was magnetic - that quiet confidence you'd analyzed through screens somehow even more potent in the flesh.

"Three fire emojis and everything," he grinned, and you noticed his taper fade was fresh, clearly done for the shoot. The chain caught the light again as he leaned slightly closer, shortening the considerable distance between you. "But for what it's worth? Your voice is unfairly hot too.”

Your cognitive functions ceased entirely. The proximity brought his cologne into focus - something expensive and intoxicating that absolutely wasn't helping your ability to form coherent thoughts. The height difference hit differently in person, requiring you to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.

“Five minutes to places!” the director's call pierced through your haze, saving you from having to remember basic language skills.

The shoot itself was a study in sweet torture. For the first time in your career, you found yourself flubbing takes - missing cues, getting lost in moments. You, who prided yourself on one-take perfection, needed multiple runs at the simplest scenes. But how could you focus when he kept looking at you like that? The way his eyes would drift slowly down your body between setups, how his hands would rub together - a tell you'd seen in dozens of post-match interviews when something particularly caught his interest. But then again, Aurélien was known for giving everything his complete attention. You'd watched enough footage to know that.

He played his role perfectly - too perfectly, really. Each take had him hitting his marks with the same precision he showed on the field, but there was something else there. Something in the way his hand would linger just a moment too long when helping you up, how his eyes would catch yours in the monitor playback.

“Last setup!” the director announced, and you silently thanked whatever higher power was listening. Your heart could only take so much.

“So," Aurélien said during the lighting adjustment, his voice dropping to a register that did dangerous things to your pussy. “Since you're such a football fan now... maybe you'd want to come to my match this weekend? VIP seats?”

Your heart stuttered. “Yeah? What if someone recognizes me?”

"Let them," he smiled, and that chain glinted again as he shifted closer. "Maybe I want people to know, especially about that DM.”

You couldn't help laughing despite your burning cheeks. "You're never letting that go, are you?”

"Never," he agreed, then added more softly: "But I'm glad you sent it. Been trying to figure out how to slide in your DMs too, especially after seeing all those likes on my gym posts.”

You looked up at him (way up - seriously, the height difference was doing things to you), catching that dangerous glint in his eye. “Oh….”

"Front row seats," he continued, voice dropping lower. "Right behind the bench. That way I'll know exactly where to look after I score.”

Your heart did another full gymnastic routine. “Pretty confident about that goal, huh?”

"I'm confident about a lot of things," he smiled, and that chain caught the light once more as he leaned down slightly. “Like how good those likes looked on my notifications.”

You were going to pass away on the spot. But then his hand found yours, and that smile softened into something more private, more real. “Sure I’ll go.”

Maybe drunk you had known exactly what she was doing after all.

******************************************

Thank god for these VIP seats because the view? Immaculate.

Grandpa Ancelotti finally put Aurélien in his rightful position and oh my god, watching him command the midfield in person hit so different. TV did not prepare you for this. At all.

The way his orange kit stretched across those shoulders when he'd gesture to teammates? Criminal. And those calves? You'd seen them in videos but in person they were actually unreal. The entire package was just unfair - whoever said football kits weren't flattering had never seen Aurélien Tchouaméni in one. His body was sculptural, all lean muscle and perfect proportions, like god really sat down and took extra time crafting him specifically to ruin your life.

You watched him talk tactics with Jude, all authority and focused energy, and the way he carried himself on the field had you feeling some type of way. His whole demeanor shifted during matches - all business and pure power. The intensity in his eyes when he'd call out positions? Yeah, you were definitely going to need a glass of water.

When he made that assist - a perfect pass that had the crowd screaming - you jumped up cheering before remembering you were supposed to be playing it cool. But how could you when he glanced your way during the celebration with that smile?

Every time he'd body someone off the ball, the way his muscles flexed with the effort... Lord have mercy. You'd really thought writing a song about him was peak down bad but watching him work in person? Your brain was absolutely short-circuiting.

During a water break, he caught your eye and adjusted his shirt - a move you'd seen in countless matches but this time it felt deliberate, just for you. The stadium lights hit his dark skin just right, making him look like he was literally glowing. And that jawline? Sharp enough to cut glass.

The final whistle had you watching his post-match routine like you hadn't already memorized it from videos - the handshakes, the quick interviews, the way he'd run his hand over his fresh fade when downplaying how good he was. But then he looked up at your spot again with that private little smile and yeah... you were absolutely screwed.

Because watching Aurélien Tchouaméni absolutely own the soccer pitch? That wasn't just attraction anymore. That was straight up ruination.

You made it to the designated area and only had to wait around 30 minutes before Aurélien showed up, fresh from the shower, dressed casually but still somehow managing to look like a walking problem. A clean black tee stretched across his chest, showing off the definition of his arms, paired with dark jeans that sat just right on his waist. And the way his chain rested against his collarbone? Yeah, this was dangerous.

“You waited long?” he asked, a lazy smile on his lips as he approached, exuding the kind of confidence that came naturally to him.

“Not really,” you said, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

His eyes dragged over you in a way that felt intentional, like he was cataloging every detail. “Good. Would’ve hated to keep you waiting.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could overthink it, he tilted his head. “You hungry?”

You blinked. “Yeah.”

“Come on, let’s get something to eat,��� he said, nodding toward the exit.

You followed him out, keeping pace as he led you to his car — his matte black Lamborghini Urus. Of course. He opened the passenger door for you, stepping back just enough to give you space but still managing to be close, like his presence was a gravitational pull.

“You good?” he asked, one brow lifting as you hesitated before getting in.

You nodded quickly, sliding into the plush seat, inhaling the faint scent of leather and his cologne —clean, expensive, and entirely him. He shut the door gently before walking around to the driver’s side, settling in smoothly before starting the engine. The deep purr of the car filled the quiet, and when he rested one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear shift, your eyes traced the veins in his forearm, the way his fingers flexed slightly.

Yeah, this was setting you off.

Aurélien drove with an effortless confidence, maneuvering through Madrid’s streets like he’d done it a million times — which, of course, he had. As he looped around the Bernabéu, he nodded toward the stadium. “You should come back for a tour.”

Your head turned sharply toward him. “What?”

He glanced at you, amused by your surprise. “You liked watching me play, right?”

Like was an understatement. Watching him on the pitch, commanding the game with precision and strength, was one thing. But now, seeing him here, driving through the city with that same quiet control, his jaw flexing as he focused on the road, his fingers tapping against the wheel — it was too much.

You were obsessed. Fully.

Your crush was sitting mere inches away, effortlessly charming, looking stupid good behind the wheel, and here you were, acting all timid. No. You needed to snap out of it. Because if you didn’t make a move now, when would you?

“You like tacos?” His voice cut through your thoughts as he stopped at a red light, glancing at you with a knowing smirk.

Of course, you liked tacos. But right now? Food was the last thing on your mind.

Because tomorrow night, you’d be on a flight back to LA. Who knew when you’d see him again? Your lives were on different continents. And after everything —after DMing him, after him actually showing up for your video — didn’t you deserve this one night?

Your heart pounded as you turned toward him fully, a slow smile curving your lips. “Tacos can wait.”

Aurélien’s lips curved into a smirk, the kind that sent heat rushing through you. He tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. “Oh? And what are you in the mood for?”

The way his voice dipped on the last word made your breath hitch. He knew exactly what you meant. And judging by the way his fingers flexed against the steering wheel, he liked where this was going.

“Maybe we can go back to your place?” you suggested, trying to sound casual despite the thrum of anticipation running through you.

He hummed, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip like he was weighing his options. “For something to eat…or?”

“Definitely or,” you giggled, the boldness surprising even yourself.

Aurélien let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he turned onto a quieter road. “Alright. So, UberEats later. Sounds good.”

Your stomach flipped at the ease in his tone, like this was the most natural thing in the world. Then his eyes flicked to you, warm and dark with something unreadable, and he bit his lip. “You’re so beautiful.”

The compliment was soft, unprompted, and it caught you off guard. Your chest tightened, heat creeping up your neck. “Thank you.”

He didn’t rush the drive, taking his time maneuvering through the streets, letting conversation flow easily between you. He asked about your time in Madrid, what you’d done so far, if you liked the city. And the whole time, his voice had that smooth, rich quality that made every word feel like it was meant just for you.

When he finally pulled up to his house — a sleek, modern place with clean lines and warm lighting —you barely had time to take it in before a low bark caught your attention.

Ocho.

The Belgian Malinois trotted toward the door as soon as you stepped inside, his dark eyes locked onto you with curiosity. Aurélien placed a reassuring hand on your lower back, his touch warm and grounding. “Let him sniff you first,” he murmured.

You extended your hand slightly, letting Ocho inspect you. The dog’s ears twitched before he gave a small huff, seemingly satisfied.

Aurélien grinned. “Good boy.” Then, switching to French, he said, “Va dans ta chambre.” (Go to your room.)

Ocho obeyed immediately, padding off toward what you assumed was his designated space.

“He’s well-trained,” you noted, impressed.

Aurélien shrugged, closing the door behind him. “Had to be. He’s my best boy.” Then he turned to you, his gaze softer now. “You want anything to drink?”

The fact that he even asked — so polite, so sweet —made your heart squeeze a little.

You shook your head. “I’m good.”

Still, he grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and a water anyway, tucking them under his arm before reaching for you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you in just enough to make your breath hitch. “Come on.”

As he guided you upstairs, his lips found the side of your neck, pressing slow, lingering kisses against your skin as you walked. His goatee tickled, the warmth of his mouth sending shivers down your spine.

By the time you made it to his bedroom, you were already gripping his arm, steadying yourself against the dizzying effect of his touch.

Aurélien smirked as he nudged the door shut behind you. “Still thinking about tacos?”

Not even a little bit. “No.”

He placed the Gatorade and water bottle on the bedside table then Aurélien’s hands were warm against your waist, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulled you in. His lips found yours, soft at first, tasting, teasing, savoring. The kiss started slow, a gentle exploration, his lips moving against yours in a way that had your heart thudding in your chest.

But then his hands slid lower, gripping the curve of your hips, and something shifted. The kiss deepened, turning hotter, messier — needy. His tongue met yours, stroking, claiming, pulling soft moans from your lips that he swallowed greedily.

The room was quiet except for the sounds of your mouths working against each other, the wet slide of tongues, the occasional breathless sighs escaping between kisses. His fingers trailed up your back, making you arch into him, pressing your body flush against his. The heat between you was dizzying, his scent — fresh, clean, and something uniquely him —wrapping around you like a drug.

Your hands roamed, exploring the hard planes of his back, the ridges of muscle beneath his skin. He groaned into your mouth when your nails scratched lightly at his nape, the sound vibrating through you and making your thighs clench.

His hands moved with purpose now, sliding under the hem of your top, pushing it up, breaking the kiss only long enough to strip it from you. Then he went for your bottoms, peeling them away, leaving you in just your underwear. His dark eyes roved over you, taking you in, heat flickering in his gaze.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself, before his hands were back on you, caressing, exploring, like he needed to feel every inch of your skin.

You didn’t hesitate, your fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward. He let you pull it over his head, and your breath hitched when you got a full view of him — his abs looked even better in person, all taut muscle and definition, a masterpiece carved in 4D.

Your fingers traced along the ridges, relishing the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

Aurélien groaned, low and deep, his head tipping back slightly. “You’re really testing my patience, bébé.”

You smiled, dragging your fingertips lower, teasing along the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers worked at the button, then the zipper, easing the denim down his hips. He helped, pushing them the rest of the way until they pooled at his feet, leaving him in just his Aime boxers.

Your breath caught.

He was hard.

The thick outline of his length strained against the fabric, the sight making heat pool low in your belly.

Your hands ghosted over his erection, barely grazing him, but it was enough to make him suck in a sharp breath.

“Shit,” he hissed, his hips jerking slightly at the contact.

You muttered an apology, but he just shook his head, eyes dark with heat. “It’s okay, bébé.”

Then his lips were on yours again, stealing the breath from your lungs, guiding you toward the bed. You barely registered the feel of the mattress beneath you before he was pressing you down, his body hovering over yours, his heat surrounding you.

And from the way he looked at you — like he was about to ruin you — you knew you were in for it.

His hands skimmed down your body to unclasp your bra then his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down your legs with agonizing slowness. His gaze roved over you, hungry and heated, before he lowered himself between your thighs.

His mouth found your skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from your navel downward, making you shiver in anticipation.

And then — oh.

Aurélien’s lips, his tongue, the warmth of his breath against your pussy had you gasping, your fingers tangling in his curls as he worked you over with a skill that had your thighs trembling.

He was deliberate but messy, completely focused on you, his lips wrapping around your clit while his tongue moved in slow, devastating circles. When he slipped two fingers inside, curling them just right, a strangled moan escaped your lips.

“Tu prends si bien, bébé,” he murmured against you, the vibration of his voice making you whimper. His fingers stroked inside you, matching the rhythm of his tongue, and your hips bucked instinctively. He just chuckled, holding you in place as he kept going, kept building you higher, until—

And then he pulled away.

A whimper of protest left your lips before you could stop it, and he smirked at your pout, his thumb swiping at the corner of his mouth like he was savoring the taste of you.

“Be right back,” he said, pressing a final kiss to your inner thigh before moving toward his dresser.

You pushed up on your elbows, watching as he pulled out a condom, then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down. Your breath hitched at the sight of him — thick, long, and impossibly hard.

Aurélien caught you staring and smirked. “Like what you see?”

You swallowed, your cheeks heating. “Obviously.”

That made him chuckle as he rolled the condom on, then returned to the bed, his hands guiding your legs further apart as he settled between them. One arm reached behind you, grabbing a pillow and tucking it under your lower back, another small but thoughtful gesture that made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with arousal.

His lips found your neck as he nudged himself against your entrance, teasing you with shallow strokes, making your body crave him even more.

And as he finally, finally pushed inside, a deep moan left your lips, because — oh. Oh.

This was happening. Your crush, your fantasy, your dream — was now your reality.

His thrusts were slow at first, letting you feel every inch of him stretching you, filling you, but it didn’t take long before the teasing gave way to something deeper, more urgent. He kissed you through it, all tongue and heat, swallowing your moans as his hips found a steady rhythm.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with pleasure. “So wet for me.”

The chain around his neck swung forward with every movement, the cool metal brushing against your skin, dangling just above your face, and god, he looked beautiful like this — face twisted in pleasure, jaw clenched, brows furrowed, dark eyes locked on yours like he never wanted to look away.

“Tu es si belle,” he groaned, dropping his head to your neck, dragging open-mouthed kisses along your throat before moving lower. His tongue flicked over your nipple before he took it into his mouth, sucking just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. Your back arched off the bed, hands tangling in his curls as you whimpered his name.

Aurélien pulled back slightly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he released you with a wet pop. His eyes met yours, dark and full of intent.

“Turn over for me,” he said, voice like gravel, thick with desire.

You swallowed, your body already obeying before your mind could catch up. He sat back, watching you get on all fours, his large hands smoothing over the curve of your ass, squeezing each cheek once before dragging up your spine. The way he looked at you, eyes burning with hunger, sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself. Then he ran a hand through his curls, exhaling sharply before gripping your hips and lining himself up again.

And when he pushed back inside, deeper than before, a broken moan fell from your lips.

“That’s it, bébé,” he murmured, his fingers digging into your skin as he started to move, slow at first, teasing. “Taking me so well.”

His pace quickened, the sound of skin on skin filling the air, along with the low, guttural groans spilling from his lips. His chain swung again, the rhythmic clink of metal adding to the mix of sensations that had you spiraling.

“Feel me?” he rasped, dragging a hand up your spine to fist your hair gently, pulling just enough to make you arch. “So deep inside you. Fuck.”

You whimpered, barely able to form words, barely able to breathe with how good he felt, how he filled every inch of you like he was made for this.

“Talk to me,” he urged, voice raw. “Let me hear you.”

“I’m—” Your words broke off into a moan as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

“Yeah?” he taunted, a smirk in his voice. “Right there, huh?”

You could only nod frantically, your body trembling as he picked up the pace, chasing both of your releases. His angled his hips once more and that made you let out something primal.

“Damn, yes fuck me back,” he crooned just before you felt his lips touch the middle of spine. You shivered at the sensation, moaning out his name like a prayer.

“Aurélien….”

He rocked into you harder, faster and it made your toes curl. He was relentless and you loved every second of it. The sounds you both were making was the perfect lullaby of lust and pleasure.

“Mm…shit….Aurélien.” You couldn’t stop from moaning his name and judging by the way his hands gripped your hips each time, you could tell that he liked it.

Soon, you both were pushed over that edge, moaning as your orgasm overwhelmed your entire body. After awhile, you felt him slip out of you and then the bed shifted as he moved to throw out the condom.

Your body still hummed with the aftershocks of pleasure, limbs heavy, breath slowly evening out. You were probably a mess — hair wild, lips swollen, body still flushed with heat — but Aurélien? He looked unfairly good.

He was leaning back against the headboard, his chest still rising and falling steadily, dark skin glowing under the dim light. The chain that had been dangling in your face minutes ago now rested against his collarbones, catching the light with each small movement. He reached over to grab his Gatorade, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip before setting it on the bedside table.

Then, he turned to you, dark eyes scanning your face, something soft in his expression. “You want some?”

You shook your head, not because you weren’t thirsty, but because you couldn’t stop staring at him.

His lips quirked slightly. “You must really like me.”

The way he said it wasn’t cocky or teasing — it was knowing, like he’d been piecing it together all night. And maybe he was right, because you couldn’t help the dopey-ass smile that spread across your face.

Aurélien chuckled, shaking his head before exhaling through his nose. “I like you too. Wish you didn’t beat me to sliding in the DMs first, though.”

You lifted a brow. “You really mad about that?”

He made a little face, scrunching his nose slightly, which was unfairly adorable for someone who had just rearranged your insides. “Not that much,” he admitted. “But I would’ve liked the chase.”

You scoffed, rolling onto your side to face him. “The chase? What are you, a lion?”

That made him smile, a real one, warm and lazy, like he was letting his guard down completely. “When a guy likes a girl, he usually asks her out first,” he said simply. “You were in my likes, I was in yours… I was about to slide through, but yeah, you beat me to it.”

Your stomach did a little flip.

He reached out then, running a hand down your arm before linking his fingers loosely with yours. “But I’m gonna do the rest, okay?”

Your breath caught, your heart stumbling in your chest. This was Aurélien Tchouaméni, your crush, your dream, and now, here he was — holding your hand, looking at you like this wasn’t just some one-night thing.

“Okay,” you whispered, squeezing his fingers lightly.

His smile widened, and then he tugged you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before settling beside you, keeping your hand in his like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon.

You couldn’t help but stare at him — at the strong lines of his face, the sharp jaw softened by the faintest hint of stubble, the fullness of his lips, the way his lashes rested against his cheeks when he blinked. He was so beautiful.

“What?” he murmured, catching you staring.

You shrugged, biting your lip. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

How crazy it was that you were here. That this wasn’t a dream. That your crush — the man who dominated the midfield with an effortless cool, the one you’d written lyrics about, the one you’d been too shy to DM for the longest time — was lying next to you, holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“About how wild this is,” you admitted.

Aurélien chuckled, his dimples flashing as he turned onto his side, propping his head up with his free hand. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “I mean, this time yesterday, I was just hoping you’d even notice me at the game. Now I’m in your bed.”

That smirk made a reappearance, but his voice was soft when he said, “I noticed you way before the game, bébé.”

Your stomach flipped. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” he said easily. “You think I wasn’t watching whenever you posted on Instagram? When you DM’d me?”

Your face warmed. “You didn’t answer right away.”

He grinned, teasing. “Had to make you sweat a little.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Wow, so you really are a lion.”

“Gotta keep things interesting,” he mused. Then, more seriously, “But I was always gonna answer.”

Something about the way he said it made your heart squeeze. Like he wasn’t just saying it to make you feel good. Like, in some way, he’d been waiting for this too.

You swallowed. “And now that I’m here?”

Aurélien’s eyes darkened slightly, but there was something tender in his gaze as he squeezed your fingers. “Now,” he murmured, shifting closer, “I’m making sure you come back.”

Your breath caught, and before you could think of a response, he kissed you.

It was slow this time, unhurried, like he wanted to take his time tasting you. His lips moved against yours with an intoxicating rhythm, deepening the kiss little by little until you were completely lost in it. His hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheek as he kissed you like he had all the time in the world.

And maybe he did. Maybe this wasn’t just for tonight.

Maybe, just maybe, this was only the beginning.

Aurélien pulled back just enough to search your face, his lips still brushing against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along your arm as he studied you with that knowing smirk that made your stomach flip.

“That song,” he murmured. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”

Your heart stuttered.

For a second, you thought about playing coy, maybe teasing him a little, but what was the point? He already knew. You could see it in the glint of amusement in his eyes, the confidence in his voice.

You sighed, defeated but grinning. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “It’s about you.”

Aurélien chuckled, shaking his head like he’d known it all along. “I knew it,” he said, his voice rich with satisfaction. “You should write another one.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Another song?”

“Mm-hmm.” His fingers brushed down your back, tracing the curve of your spine. “One about tonight.”

Your breath hitched at the implication, at the way his voice had dipped lower, rougher.

You bit your lip. “Might have to.”

Aurélien grinned. “Good,” he murmured, kissing you again. “Make it a love song.”

[inflamedrosenkranz]

Not Viktor, wistfully glancing at Jayce's lips, perhaps regretting that they aren't reserved for his own, but rather for the audience Jayce is about to give a speech to. Not Viktor, quickly averting his eyes and pensively looking away, as if to prevent himself from fantasizing about them for too long?

Not Viktor, staring at Jayce with his sad puppy eyes as the latter turns his back on him to focus on the stage ahead of him:

Not Jayce, metaphorically and brutally crushing Viktor under his weight and replacing his presence with his own via a mug in his likeness:

How cruel is this passage which confirms that even 6-7 years later, Viktor's still head over heels for his golden darling (it's episode 4 and already in eps 2 and 3 set in the past, he was showing fruity signs of interest in Jayce; see here and there and here too), and at the same time foreshadows that Jayce will soon begin to neglect his partner, their friendship and professional collaboration by plunging into the corruption offered by fame, success, appearances and politics.

But on closer inspection, everything's wrong in this scene, and it's so absurd it's tragically funny: Viktor is lusting after Jayce, but Jayce doesn't notice it and heads for the stage instead. Sky is lusting after Viktor but he doesn't care and only has eyes for Jayce. And Jayce, as he contemplates the stage before him, doesn't yet know that he's in fact symbolically staring at Mel and his future role as councilor. Goddammit, the level of unrequited pining they must have had for each other in that friggin' lab must have been so high that it should have been enough to activate the Hextech.

[miyakazashi]

Xia Fei's whereabouts

I've thought about it for a bit (2 days to be exact), and I found an theory that could potentially make sense, so hear me out...!

Bridon Arc Episode 6

from the last scene of Bridon Episode 6, we know that Xia Fei went missing 3 years after bridon arc and also after the "Li tianchen, Li tianxi incident", but what else also happens 3 years after bridon arc and after the "Li Tianchen, Li Tianxi incident"

Season 2 Episode 12 (btw I love this scene so much help-)

Liu Xiao returning to China and "recruiting" Li Tianchen (atleast in the original timeline, but I'll believe Vein "dying" doesn't effect this event), and it is also confirmed in an earlier episode that Liu Xiao only came back from Bridon recently.

Season 2 Episode 1

After what we've seen in Bridon arc, I'll assume Liu Xiao "recruiting" Li Tianchen is probably the start of his and Vein's plan in china (ignoring what Vein has been doing on his end), basically they're gonna cause havoc, but where am I going with this you may ask.

What if, Xia Fei returned to China with Liu Xiao, which basically implies that he's still working with Vein and Liu Xiao, whether that be because he knows what Lu guang did or something else, that's for another theory, anyways for obvious reasons (cause he's famous and all) he had to sneakily take a plane from Bridon to China with no one noticing. And in that case, he would indeed be considered "missing" to the people of Bridon and China etc, but not actually missing if you get what I mean.

Bridon Arc Episode 6

Plus, Xia Fei got to know about the “時光照相館” so that's one way to explain why the season 3 gang would know where Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu guang are (not like they need it though, there's probably hundreds of other methods for Vein and LX, plus Li Tianchen probably knows, but just something to note)

On an unserious note though, I wonder how that plane flight would look like😆 or would Xia Fei make sure he doesn't sit next to Liu Xiao on the plane, that is, of course if Liu Xiao doesn't buy the tickets for him, and basically forces Xia Fei to sit next to him- you know, friendship and stuff

Bridon Arc Episode 6

And you may ask, "But what about that Jack guy that literally none of us care about" ahem, the other missing model — Jack, and look, I actually have no idea why he's reported missing at the same time. Oh but while I was brain storming, one thing (not related to this theory) came to mind, which is, what if he was disguised as Vein so Liu Xiao could get the real Vein out of the mortuary, but alas, I don't know how that would work, cause like a ten is a ten and well, Jack....Jack's not a ten. Ok,ok on a serious note, I think it could still work with enough make-up and stuff, but like...it wouldn't make sense for him to be reported missing 3 years later, unless people just don't give a sh*t about him, like us.

And I have another weird thought about Jack's disappearance, for context though, I was watching someone talk about Xia Fei possibly getting an ability from someone before or during Season 3, and don't know why but Jack came to mind, I was like "what if Xia Fei (or LX) killed Jack to take his ability or something" but the more I think about it, Xia Fei, being in the Bahati school, which is assumed to be like a school for kids with abilities, probably has a higher chance of having an ability than this Jack guy, so....

If anyone has any guesses regarding Jack, or is able to link a Jack theory to the "Xia Fei flew back to China with Liu Xiao theory", please, be my guest😌 but yeah, that's basically all I have for you all.

[its-luna-noel]

bellesa house

episode 1, satoru & you (sensual)

"Welcome to Bellesa House, where we let performers tell us who they want to have sex with and why." pornstar!jjk men x pornstar!reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, pornstar!au, older reader & younger gojo (like mid-30s and mid-20s respectively), based on bellesa house, sensuality, sensual porn

word count: 2.8k next: episode 2, suguru & you

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hi there, here's another fic idea i just couldn't shake, based on bellesa house, a porn project w/ the above description. most scenes are split into one of three categories: sensual, passionate, or rough; so, each chapter will also be labeled as such! (if you're a porn person and haven't checked out bellesa, this is my psa). next up is geto:) thanks for reading!

You’re propped up in a bed with half a dozen pillows, dressed in blue lacy lingerie, staring down a camera on a tripod.

It’s something you’ve done hundreds of times.

You give the camera your performer name, offering a coy little smile that’s become your signature. You’ve been doing porn for years now, and when the production team came to you to pilot a new concept – to play house with another performer of your choosing – you, of course, chose Satoru Gojo.

A young buck on the scene, he’s only been in a couple dozen videos total, but he’s already the new heartthrob at the studio, with his big, charming smile and pretty blue eyes. You’ve heard he’s good, too, fantastic on camera and a sweetheart off it.

Satoru chose you because he thinks you’re hot.

Hey, he’s always had a thing for older women, and he knows you’re not that much older than him, but it still makes him hard to think of what you could do with all that experience. It also feels good to know you want to fuck him too as he climbs into the bed for his own interview.

“So,” begins the director, smiling past the camera to the young rising star on the bed, “how are you feeling, knowing the first time you meet your co-star will be here on camera?”

Satoru shrugs his muscular shoulders, smiling a little. “It’s not that different from what I usually do; most of the time we meet on set and an hour later we’re in the middle of a scene. So, I’m not too uncomfortable with it.”

“How does it feel to be working with an industry favorite?”

He chuckles, then, his smile growing as he lowers his eyes, playing almost bashful. “That’s a little more intimidating, I guess. Obviously I’ve seen her work; I just hope I can live up to the great stuff she puts out.”

The video cuts to your interview, to your teasing smile at the camera as you lean back casually against the pillows, looking decadent in your lingerie. The director speaks again from behind the camera, “So, when we bring him in here, do you think you guys will talk, will you get straight to it…?”

You hum thoughtfully, that same smile still curling your lips as you tilt your head. “The young ones are always so eager to get started and skip the awkward introductions, so I’m guessing we’ll just dive in. But who knows! Maybe he’ll surprise me.”

“Alright, well, the next time that door opens, he’ll be coming in, and you guys can do whatever you want!” Your director gives you a supportive thumbs up from behind the camera; she trusts you to make whatever you do together good. You’ve never let her down before. Then, “Action!”

The sleek white door swings open, and there stands Satoru, feigning a casual air with his hands in the pockets of his joggers. He’s got that smile on his face, and you can’t help but return the expression as you wave him in encouragingly. “Hi!” you greet enthusiastically, propping yourself up on your knees on the bed.

Your comforting air seems to put him a little more at ease; he walks in, easing himself onto the edge of the bed beside you. His pretty blue eyes take in the set of lingerie you’re wearing – something that matches those eyes. You look amazing, so fucking sexy he’s already growing hard at the sight of you. Then he looks back up at your face, finding you still smiling, and he smiles back before leaning in slightly. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says softly, and you both giggle a little, clearly letting your nerves run a little higher now that you’re meeting each other for the first time.

You lean in, too, still laughing softly, until your nose brushes his. “Nice to meet you, too,” you whisper, and then you part your lips, inviting him to meet you halfway.

He does, his lips pushing against yours, already hard and desperate. You can tell he’s still a little nervous, diving right in instead of pacing himself for the camera, and so you put a gentle hand on the side of his face, fingers stroking the strong line of his jaw. You’re trying not to intimidate him, but that’s hard when you have over a thousand videos under your belt and he has maybe 20. He feels your touch and understands, wants to follow your lead, so he tries to shake himself and slow down.

It’s just a scene, doesn’t matter that she’s the sexiest and most experienced co-star he’s ever had.

His lips slow against yours, now taking the time to taste your mouth, your minty fresh breath and the berry chapstick you have on. Your tongue is phenomenal, slipping against his with practiced ease as you lick into his mouth, and he licks right back with the vitality and enthusiasm of a young performer.

You’ve almost forgotten what that spark feels like. A similar one, after years of being dormant, flares to like deep in your belly.

You kiss for a couple minutes before you let your hand wander from the side of his face, down his neck, to his torso. His chest and belly are muscular under his t-shirt, and you can feel every subtle tightening of those muscles while you touch him. His hands follow, coming to rest on your bare arms, bringing you closer to his body. You arch your back, curving into his chest while he continues to kiss you, and then you move your touch from his belly down to the hard bulge in the front of his sweatpants.

You can tell by feel that he’s one of the bigger men you’ve worked with.

He lets you touch him unhindered for a few moments before he brings his own fingers down to stroke between your thighs, feeling a spreading wetness on the thin fabric of your panties. You both focus on heavy petting for a while, getting each other aroused while your mouths continue moving against each other.

You have to hand it to him; he’s good at what he does.

Once you’re finally wet and feeling ready to take the scene further, you gently push him backwards onto the bed, crawling over him until you’re straddling his hips. You pull away from the kiss enough to smile down at him, and he smiles back, seeming dazzled by you as you dip your fingers into the elastic waistband of his joggers. You pull those down first, and he helps you get them free of his ankles before you toss the fabric aside onto the floor.

You can see the imprint of his dick against his boxers, and now you’re pretty sure he’s one of the biggest you’ve seen. It’s a pleasant surprise; no wonder he’s a rising star on the scene.

You lean forward, pressing your cheek to his thigh, nuzzling playfully and grinning up at him. “You ready?” you ask, for his benefit, knowing it’ll be edited out in post.

He chuckles quietly, and your tummy flutters at the sound; he’s got a good laugh, too. He brushes your hair into one hand, gently guiding your mouth towards the straining bulge of his cock. “Ready,” he confirms.

You grip the waistband of his tight, Calvin Klein boxer briefs and slowly, achingly, pull them down his legs.

You let yourself take a good look as you toss aside the fabric, assessing how much work you’ll have to put in; a lot, is the answer. He’s massive, long and pink and beautiful. Mouthwatering. You’re practically drooling as you settle between his legs and, glancing up at him through your lashes, let your tongue slip out from between your lips and take a taste.

He lets out a soft sigh, eyes watching your every move as you start licking his tip, short little laps that drive him crazy. His hand tightens in your hair, just enough to signal to you that he’s ready.

Or, he thought he was.

When you lean in and take him in the hot, wet cavern of your mouth, he’s already seeing starts at how fucking good your tongue feels swirling around his head. You bring your hands up and grip the base of his cock, squeezing lightly, before you take him a little deeper.

Satoru can’t hold back moans so whiny it’s almost pathetic; you’re sucking him off so well, both hands stroking his length slowly as your mouth bobs over his blushing tip, cheeks hollowed like you want to suck him dry. Then you move your hands and dive down until he’s shoved as far down your throat as you can take, staying there for a moment as your throat closes down around him on every side. His head drops back to the pillows as he lets out another whine, and then you pull back, hands coming back to his base as you suck the tip.

It feels so fucking good that he’s scared he’s gonna cum already.

So he pulls you off of him, guiding you down onto your belly on the bed. “Arch for me,” he murmurs in your ear, and you do, back arched so beautifully that he can’t wait to watch the tape on his own time and screenshot this pose for him to keep. He grabs the back of his shirt and yanks it off, leaving his muscular body on display for the cameras as he pushes your lacy blue panties to the side, arousal already drenching the thin fabric and sticking it to your pussy.

He hums in delight at the sight of your gorgeous folds, and he leans in, pressing a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your lower lips, like he’s making out with your cunt from behind. You let out a moan into the mattress, arching further to force your hips back into his face. He grins against you before grabbing the flesh of your hips, holding you in place while he pushes deeper, past your outer folds to lick a line of heat from your clit to the lower corner of your pussy. Then he moves his mouth back to your clit, his nose bumping against the wet entrance to your cunt while his tongue laps greedily at it. His hands move down to grab the fat of your ass, thumbs spreading you apart to expose you more to his mouth and eyes while he eats you out from the back.

You’re making such delicious noises, not just for the camera, but because his mouth is just that good. He hums again, this time with your clit against his tongue, before he takes the swollen bundle between his lips and sucks softly. Your hips jolt against his face, and he lets go with a lewd pop, before flicking his tongue over your clit again, taking his time to work you up towards your orgasm.

“Oh my god…” you breathe, lashes fluttering as your eyes close to the ecstasy. “Feels so good…”

“Yeah?” he mumbles into your cunt, eyes closed, too, as he tastes how fucking sweet you are. “Want something to cum on?”

You moan at his words, hips bucking backwards again, like you’re trying to chase down your high… He pulls away before you can get there, grinning cheekily when you whimper. “Aww,” he croons, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before grabbing your hips and rolling you over onto your back, “it’s okay. I’ll make you cum; I promise.”

“You better,” you tease back, reaching up to slide the straps of your bodysuit off your shoulders and down your arms, pooling the lace around your waist, “or I’ll be very disappointed in you.”

He takes the fabric the rest of the way off, still grinning as he looks at your perfect body, one he’s seen in dozens of videos with his hand wrapped around his own cock, making himself cum to the sound of your moans. It’s a dream come true to be filming with you, and he lets himself remember that fact before he leans over you, reaching down to align himself with your dripping, fluttering entrance. He glances into your eyes for a moment, checking that you’re alright, and the look in your eyes is such a clear affirmative that he can’t hold back anymore.

He pushes inside you slowly, both of you letting out soft, broken moans in unison as he sheaths himself in you.

Then, once he’s fully seated inside you, your cunt squeezing around him, so wet and warm and fucking perfect, he pulls back and starts to fuck you slowly, sensually.

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his hips, and your heels press into his ass with every thrust, holding him that much closer, that much deeper. He groans, lips parted as he pants softly, his hips rocking in smooth, fluid motions.

Your lips are parted, too, as you reach down to rub your clit with the pads of your fingers, drawing aching circles– Satoru bumps your hand away and takes over for you. “Let me,” he pants, watching your reaction as your head falls back against the pillows with another moan. He groans at the sight and leans in, placing soft, adoring kisses to the column of your throat, to the edge of your jaw, to the curve of your cheek… All the while rubbing those perfect circles on your clit.

Your pussy is starting to clench around him. “Oh my god,” you whine, throwing your head back, and the performance isn’t even for the cameras anymore, it’s for him, to let him know how good he’s making you feel. Every thrust puts him right at your g-spot, and his fingers have the perfect pressure on your clit, a catastrophic combination of sensations that’s quickly sending you towards the edge. “Please don’t stop.”

He keeps kissing towards the corner of your mouth. “Cum for me,” he says, and then he presses his lips to yours, claiming your tongue with his as he fucks you through your orgasm. You moan and whine into the kiss, your cunt clenching and spasming around his cock, and he groans against your mouth at the feeling of you sucking him even further inside you.

Fuck, he’s not gonna last like this.

So he rolls you over onto your tummy again, even though your legs are still weak and shaky from your climax, and presses you down into the mattress with gentle hands. He spreads your legs for you, angling your hips right where he wants you, and then he leans over your body, palms planted firmly on either side of your shoulders to hold his weight above you before he starts rocking back into your perfect fucking pussy.

His shoulders are heaving with the effort to hold back, to not cum after two seconds like this, but his eyes are trained on how your ass conforms to the shape of his hips with every thrust, and the curve of your back looks like the perfect bullseye for his cum–

He groans, pulling out before he can accidentally empty himself inside you. Then he strokes himself, his hand pumping over the wet, sensitive head of his cock as he stares at your fluttering pussy, wishing he could’ve cum there– maybe next time– With a choking sound and breathless moans, he watches pearly ropes of his seed shoot out over the smooth skin of your back.

When he catches his breath, he can’t help but pull up short. Wait, next time??

~

Once you’re showered and dressed in street clothes again, walking out of the studio with your bag over your shoulder, you hear a familiar voice behind you. “Hey! One sec.”

You turn, a smile already on your face as you recognize Satoru’s voice. His hair is still wet from his shower, too, hanging damp in front of his shining eyes. “Hey,” you respond, smiling as he walks over. “Great job today. You’ve got a great career ahead of you, you know.”

“I know,” he says, not arrogantly, just as a fact. But he doesn’t want to talk about that now. He looks a little nervous as he shifts from one foot to the other. “I just wanted to say thanks for…choosing me to work with you today. I had a lot of fun.”

Your smile spreads a little wider. “Me, too,” you tell him, and then you turn your back, because you’re already late for dinner with your friends. “See you around!”

“Wait!” he calls again, and you stop, surprised. You turn and blink up at him.

“Uh, this might sound dumb…but can I get your number?”

thanks for reading! -luna xx link to ao3 | next: suguru & you

[winnie-the-monster]

He is going to kiss her!!! He is going to kiss her!!!

[rockpaperscissuhs]

HISPANIC HERITAGE MONTH + BAND OF BROTHERS:

JOSEPH "JOE" RAMIREZ

Born October 5th, 1921, in Nebraska

Died April 8th, 1988 (age 66), in Martinez, California

Joe Ramirez enlisted in September 1942 (age 20) in San Francisco, CA, and he trained with Easy Company at Toccoa. Holding the rank of Private, he served in Normandy, Holland, and Bastogne. He was hospitalized in January 1945, and discharged in July 1945. After the war, he was married for many years, and had children and grandchildren. When he passed away he was buried with his wife, who had passed away 11 years earlier. Further information about him is scarce, but the brief character profile in the Band of Brothers series bible describes him as Mexican-American, and his personality as "sensitive and nervous."

Appears in Episodes 1, 3-8, and 10; portrayed by actor Rene L. Moreno

Sources below

A million thanks to @bleedingcoffee42 for tracking down this info for me!

[crownspeaksblog]

Okay, what a whiplash going from the last few minutes of episode 4 where i was having fun to being so uncomfortable watching the sex scene in episode 5..

Okay so going into this season, i already knew that colin and penelope were gonna have a sex scene involving a mirror, so when colin turned penelope towards the mirror and started describing things he likes about her, i thought that this was a foreshadowing to a sex scene that'll happen later on, because in my mind they're so not at the point of full on sex yet, so when i realized that they were gonna have sex i was taken back because this scene feels so unearned to me, it feels like we jumped several steps ahead, even though last episode they were making out and colin was grabbing on her, his hand under her dress, it still doesn't feel like enough build up for a sex scene to happen the next episode, again it feels like we jumped so many steps to get here..

And i don't know why but i started getting a little uncomfortable when he touched her lower lip and i definitely got uncomfortable with her laying naked in bed with him on top of her, and then he started talking her through it and i know some people like this, but i just wanted him stop talking!! (i was genuinely so close to fast forwarding this scene but instead I'm here writing this).

So yeah i didn't like this scene because it has alot of talking, but mostly it because their relationship literally started last night!! I don't think i can say there's no building up whatsoever, to me it's just there's very very little build up and development in their relationship.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

You legit have the best spn takes I love the patheticness of Rowena but never actually thought too much about it but your post makes me appreciate that part of her sm

Thank you! People are so nice to me 🥹 she needs to be a little scheming worm who gets maybe two thirds of what she wants maximum. She needs a project. She would be bored of running Hell with no conflict or further goals within about a week. Rowena has wanted the IDEA of running Hell for a long time but from what we've seen of what being monarch of Hell actually IS with Crowley (or, what he made it into) she's going to be bored out of her skull. She looked bored in the episode. She's a schemer!! Let her scheme! It's like if Chandler from FRIENDS just stopped telling jokes forever as his final position on the show and all his (titular) friends agreed it was good for him. Or if Winston from New Girl put down his racoon costume and said "I'm going to become an ivestment banker" and did it with no issues and no silliness that was his endgame. It doesn't feel right.

Anyway!!!!! Pathetic Rowena is so good. When she was trying to build a coven and all the witches were like. Have you forgotten that you're a complete loser??? Or when she "reconnects" with Crowley as his untrustworthy advisor and gives the most obviously scheming bad advice and the only reason he lets her get away with it is because she's his mother and he pities her a little. Or when she manages to get in good with Amara but Amara's like hm. You kind of suck huh. like that's golden.

I would have had, for her final appearance as "queen of hell", she does her whole big grand entrance being carried around by demons (loved that for her), giving (slightly quicker) lofty advice* about working on relationships (because that IS necessary for the theme of the episode) and getting her demons to look for Michael. And THEN after they get the news that he's not in Hell, have one of her demon aides warn her that the actual queen is coming so she's gotta go and the boys are like. The who. What. Meanwhile Rowena is scrambling to get her things and is like 'aye well maybe introducing myself as queen was a tad preemptive, but I will be. Good luck boys, best get out of here sharpish if you want to keep yer heads ❤️" and a specific goodbye to Sam with a kiss on the cheek since she was. His best friend???? and they don't presently have A Moment in the episode. It wouldn't take much. It would also solve the weird place of them being best friends with the queen of hell where - presumably - eternal torture is still happening. Easier to handwave if the position of power is incredibly tenuous like Crowley's was always depicted as.

To conclude. Kiss kiss kiss 💋

*not to be confused with giving Lofty advice, a character from BBC Casualty who crossed over to BBC Holby City and whom I hate with the fire of a million suns.

[demilypyro]

So I've seen a few too many people on twitter talking about The Kiss Scene from the new Scott Pilgrim anime. People saying it's fetishistic and indulgent, people calling it male gazey, etc. And while the kiss itself is certainly a bit exaggerated, I felt like writing a bit about why I disagree, and why context is important, like it always is. But it basically turned into an extended analysis on the metatextual treatment of Roxie Richter. So bear with me. It's a long post.

What really matters about this scene is not the kiss itself, but what precedes it. Not even just the fight scene just before it, but what precedes the whole anime series, really. And that's the Scott Pilgrim comic book, and the live action movie. Because in both, Roxie is a punchline.

She's a joke. Her character starts and ends with "one of the exes is actually a girl, I bet you didn't expect that." Jokes are made about Ramona's latent bisexuality, the movie especially treating it as funny and absurd, and her validity as a romantic interest is entirely written off by Ramona as being "just a phase." There's a fight scene, she's defeated by a man giving her an orgasm which implicitly calls her sexuality into question (come on), and the movie just moves on. It sucks. It really, really sucks.

The comic fares a little better. It never veers into outright homophobia like the movie does, and while the line about Ramona having gone through a phase remains, Roxie actually gets one over on Scott when Ramona briefly gets back with Roxie. But Roxie is still only barely a character. Like all the other evil exes, she's just a stepping stone towards the male protagonist's development. She barely even gets any screentime before she's defeated by Scott's "power of love." But Roxie stands out, since she's the only villain who is queer, or at least had been confirmed queer at that point (hi Todd). In a series that champions multiple gay men in the supporting cast, the single undeniable lesbian in the story is a villain. She's labeled as evil, made fun of, pushed aside in favor of the men, and then discarded. Her screentime was never about her, or her feelings for Ramona. It was about the straight, male protagonist needing to overcome her. And that was Roxie Richter. An unfortunate victim of the 2010s.

Fast forward to current year, and the new anime series is announced. Everybody sits down to watch the new series expecting another retelling of the same story, and.... hang on, that straight male protagonist I mentioned just died in the first episode. And now it's humanizing the villains from the original story. And there's Roxie, introduced alongside the other evil exes in the second episode, and she's being played entirely straight, without a punchline in sight. No jokes are made about her gender, no questions are made of her validity as one of Ramona's romantic interests. The narrative considers her important. In one episode, she already gets more respect than she did in either of the previous iterations of Scott Pilgrim. And this isn't even her focus episode yet... which happens to be the very next one.

The anime series goes to great lengths to flesh out the original story's villains and to have Ramona reconcile with them. And I don't think it's a coincidence that Roxie gets to go first. While Matthew Patel gets his development in episode 2, Roxie is the first to directly confront Ramona, now our main protagonist. This is notable too because it's the only time the exes are encountered out of order. Roxie is supposed to be number 4, but she's first in line, and later on you realize that she's the only one who's out of sequence. She's the one who sets the precedent for the villains being redeemed. She's the most important character for Ramona to reconcile with.

What follows is probably the most extensive, elaborate 1 on 1 fight scene in the whole show. Roxie fights like a wounded animal, her motions are desperate and pained. Ramona can only barely fight back against her onslaught. Different set-pieces fly by at breakneck speed as Roxie relentlessly lays her feelings at Ramona's feet through her attacks and her distraught shouts. And unlike the comic or the movie, Ramona acknowledges them, and sincerely apologizes. And the two end up just laying there, exhausted, reminiscing about when they were together.

Only after this, after all of this, does the kiss scene happen. Roxie has been vindicated, she has reconciled with the person who hurt her, the narrative has deemed that her anger is justified and has redeemed her character. And she gets her victory lap by making the nearest other hot girl question her heterosexuality, sharing a sloppy kiss with her as the music triumphantly crescendos.

It's... a little self-congratulatory, honestly. But it's good. It's redemption for a character who had been mistreated for over a decade. And she punctuates the moment by being very, very gay where everyone can see it, no men anywhere in sight. Because this is her moment. And then she leaves the plot, on her own accord this time, while humming the hampster dance. What a legend. How could anything be wrong with this.

[archives-of-a-hidden-writer]

Something Else

Thanos / Choi Su-bong X Nonchalant!Cold!reader

》Typing... |

》 [Entry No.003 - Something Else]|

》 Loading Archive Entry "Something Else" |

》 Location of Entry: Archivial's |

》 Notice: Entry Continuation, Archive Entry No.005

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》 Summary: Sometimes, being too calm at intense situations and gaining a bit of attention, even if it's from someone who is too high for this bloody game.|

》 Warnings: Spoilers for Season 2 of Squid game until at least episode 3-4, occur during and before the 1st game, reader's number is 457, implications of drug use, flirting, murder, blood, swearing, Thanos flirting with ji-woo before going after you. |

》 Archive Entry Loaded ◇

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

You thought everything was messed up, as you had somehow gotten yourselves into this so-called 'Squid Games'.

You wake up in an unknown place filled with people you barely recognize. Although some gave a sense of familiarity, you didn't delve deeper into this feeling. You don't know what was happening after all, all you remember was playing ddakji with some salesman who definitely did not give you a suspicious feeling and gave you a weird card after the game, and then all of a sudden, you're here in this children-themed place. Now, you are being told to sign a waiver before playing a 'game'.

As everyone lined up to sign the paper, the one in front of you, who's number is one lower than you, seemed to be slower than the rest, seemingly actually reading the written rules before signing it.

Shrugging the man's intentions off, you signed the paper with a quick glance at the rules. It might be useful to you in the future, keyword, might.

As you finished signing yours, you walked off the line to go somewhere in the room or the called dormitory. As this occurred, a ruckus was happening on the sideline as a purple-haired man attempted to punch another guy but was stopped by his friend.

You somehow recognized those two from social media, one known for making his fans invest in a crypto coin and the other being a rapper.

You just silently tsked at them before moving along, not noticing the gaze that followed me from the purple-haired dude, but it was soon averted as I noticed another girl.

■■■■

"Everyone please line-up one at a time," the announcement echoed through the labyrinth of a room as people, now called players, each took their turn standing in front of the monitor and taking a pic.

As you waited for your turn, another scene occurred with none other than the rapper from before as many approached him and started mentioning how much of a fan they were of him. He then called all of them to group-up and take a picture together, followed by the man calling the braided girl that you now noticed as player 196, but she rejected him. The whole ordeal was soon stopped by a pink guard nearby.

■■■■

As you reached the end of the labyrinth of stairs of a room, you and the players reached the seemingly 1st game.

An announcer soon welcomed you all before saying to wait as the game starts, Red light, Green light, the game is said. Everyone scoffed and snickered as the said game was a kids' game, but one man wasn't having it as he ran to the front and started screaming of how they would kill you if moved.

As the man screamed, you just raised an eyebrow at the player's antics, what a weird guy, but it wouldn't hurt to d whatever this crazed man says. But it seems a few were still snickering and joking at the man.

Soon, the game started, the child-like doll then started to turn and chanted 'Red light, green light'. Everyone started to move until the doll stopped speaking and turned its head at us. The man earlier screamed to freeze, no one moved.

The same thing repeated until mostly everyone reached the halfway mark.

As everyone froze, the few silent seconds were disrupted by a girl's scream as she spun around and moved before being followed by a gunshot and a thudding of a body. It was soon followed by another scream and gunshots as everyone who panicked and moved was shot and killed with the man from earlier screaming for everyone to not panic and freeze.

The real chaos and hell began.

■■■■

A few moments after the wave of deaths, everyone stood close to each other, lining themselves into lines to hide from the doll's detectors.

The plan somewhat worked, with a few getting detected and shot as they either failed to hide or accidentally moved.

It was once again disrupted as the purple-haired man had killed at least 3 players as he pushed them while the doll's head was still towards everyone. You scoffed at the man for killing others, but did you even have anything to say as the two of you met gaze before you looked away from him, focusing on the game at hand.

As you focused on the game, Thanos, the purple-haired man, couldn't remove his eyes from you. Unlike the other players, you were somehow a bit calmer than them, more eased at this as if it doesn't phase you one bit. It didn't help that he was, at this moment, had already taken his little candy and is over his own head. You were really something.

■■■■

Soon enough, mostly everyone got through the line, and now everyone can finally have a breather as they survived.

Everyone was then brought back to the dormitory, pretty shaken up by the game given to them. Well, everyone but you and some few players, you were pretty shaken up as well, but not to the point you looked like you just went to an actual war field.

As you do your own thing on your bunk bed, Thanos had his gaze on you from the other side. 'Player 457... You're...' "Something else..." he muttered his thoughts as his pupils twitched, looking around before seemingly coming back to you. His looked over to him and asked if he was alright. He answered that he's alright in english, earning a confused look from his friend.

Despite barely meeting nor talking to you like what he did with player 196, he seemed to be just as smitten at you. But could he even manage to muster his hyped feelings before the games take his life?

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

》 Archiver's Notes: A short something for someone, @sukratyaropia24 , as a fellow squid game watcher and heavy on Thanos aka T.O.P. Had to skip the majority of what happened during the first game. Apologies for that.

》 Additional Archiver's Notes: Extra notes, I have removed one tag as I have noticed it wasn't even mentioned in the entry, which was reader choosing 'o', more so, the first voting wasn't mentioned yet.

[infamous-if]

✭INFAMOUS UPDATE IS HERE ✭

238K -> 457K WORDS

Please read this post before playing! It's finally here! After five months of writing and rewriting and salvaging and crying and sweating and bleeding I finally finished sort of kind of! Firstly, I want to thank you for your patience and understanding over this duration of this rewrite. It was stressful at times but I'm happy with the end result and I hope everyone else will be too :)

This will be the last chapter I release without beta testers/other sets of eyes so expect errors. I can playtest until my fingers turn blue but I'm just one person </3 I'm bound to have missed stuff.

Please let me know of errors! I tested it a few times with no problems but we know how it goes lol

IN THIS CHAPTER THREE UPDATE:

drama

mayhem

chaos

some betrayal

some surprises

just...read it lmao

PROLOGUE - CHAPTER 2 CHANGES:

**chapter two was too large of a file to upload on dd so I had to split it last minute and I uhhhh dont know how that translates in the demo but it should work lol please let me know if its wonky!**

fixed up grammatical errors and typos

expanded some scenes and added some more choices

you can now choose that your mc has "changed" in some way (drinking, no longer drinking, partier, no longer a partier, negative, positive, attached, detached, or a general default. I was asked to add an MC who "gets around" or hookups a lot but I'm still debating on whether I'll add that since there's already quite a bit lolol)

you can choose to have changed your band's genre before/after seven

TECHNICAL CHANGES:

you will be able to explicitly state your sexuality in the beginning. this was a big ask and I apologize for not doing it earlier! I wasn't good at coding when I started and I knew I always wanted to make the genders separate from MC's sexuality but I didn't know how to do that at the start :) So you can still choose the genders of the ROs for story purposes and variety. IF YOU DO NOT SEE ROMANCE OPTIONS THAT IS NOT A BUG. You simply chose a RO gender that doesn't correlate with the sexuality you chose for your MC. Having said that, if you do see a romance option available and it's not supposed to be there please let me know! That means I may have missed it coding-wise.

the stats have been all fixed! I've added all the necessary variables and such. The stat portion of the game has been updated with the appropriate pages but they're not finished. Still, the stats should be fine.

You will now have confessionals in the stat page! The feature still isn't a thing yet because I haven't come up with the confessionals lolol but you can click on it to see what it's about. Essentially, as you progress through the story you will be able to see confessionals from the cast of Infamous throughout. They disappear and appear periodically so if you miss it, THAT'S IT! You won't get a chance to see them again until MC watches an episode where it's relevant.

There is now a: Discography page, Infamous wiki, botb cast and staff page, and other characters page for organization. Those are not finished but they're there!

I changed a few stat names but their functions remain the same.

You will be able to choose how you would like to be described (masculine, feminine, neither, both).

O is officially gender-selectable.

You can set the genders of the ROs at the start or wait till you meet them.

PLAY HERE

[shitpostingkats]

An Asexual's love letter to Good Omens 2

There's an infamous quote by Neil Gaiman going around, regarding the general vibe of season 2, and many people (I believe humorously) yelling that it could not be further from the truth. Particularly in the last episode, where that happens.

I disagree.

The final episode of season 2 was deeply, deeply comforting to me. 

I am asexual. Have been my whole life. Even before I had the words to describe what that was, child-me had this feeling in their gut of being an outlier, that everyone was exaggerating, or in on some joke, that I wasn’t privy to. Because I was bombarded on all sides by shows and movies and books, telling the same story of love, again, and again, and AGAIN. It’s drilled into our brains with the same fervor as the days of the week, or the quadratic formula. Meet-cute -> misunderstanding ->declaration of feelings ->kiss. More or less steps can be added to account for runtime or complexity of narrative, but that’s the basic structure that a relationship follows. It MUST be, because that’s the formula every character who's ever been in a story goes through, often times when it even feels like an add-on, like it’s only there because this is a story, there HAS to be a romance. And it has to follow the steps.

For a long time, I felt love wasn’t for me, because if there’s only one way to be in love, I sure as hell wasn’t feeling it. 

Instead, the relationship I ended up in looked a lot like what Beezlebub and Gabriel go through. Meeting someone routinely until it starts to feel comfortable. Getting to know them and slowly growing more attached. Eating chips and listening to music.

We like to joke whenever someone asks us how long we’ve been together, because the answer is we just sort of slowly fell into it, and we honestly don’t know when the line got blurred between ‘friends’ and ‘partners’. And, at least for me, a good deal of that confusion, that hesitancy to label, came from the fact that what I was feeling, what we were, couldn’t be love. It couldn’t be romantic. 

We were just quiet and gentle.

And that wasn’t love.

Because it was slow, because it wasn’t physical, because there was no structure aside from consistency and companionship. Because it didn’t follow the Rules.

Then I found myself in stories, and it felt like a revelation.

Beelzebub and Gabriel aren’t the first time I’ve seen a love like I feel represented in a narrative, but it never stops feeling special. And I don’t know if I’ll ever stop celebrating it.

Throughout the sequence in the pub, I kept expecting them to “confirm” Gabriel and Beelzebub. A dramatic line, a kiss, a whatever. That’s what I’ve been taught to expect, after all, that’s the only way a relationship is “real”. Of course, this doesn't mean Crowley and Aziraphale sharing a dramatic kiss is wrong, or that I can’t see why it resonated with so many people, but for me. Those moments in the pub are worth so much more.The last scene might have been literally showstopping, but those handful of moments between the duke of hell and an archangel were the beating heart of the season for me. A simple love story in four scenes. No kisses. No ‘I love you’s. Not even any definition of what. The love Gabriel and Beelzebub have is strong enough for them to both want to shatter their worlds and flee their lives and it's just. 

It's just that. 

Two people in a pub, playing the other's favorite song, giving a little gift, buying a packet of crisps. 

That sequence means far more to me than any kiss ever could.

Love isn’t only real when it's hot and sudden and ephemeral, it can also be

Quiet.

And gentle.

And still romantic.

Still real.

[whatdidtheydotomygirljinx]

Jinx just never really liked Vander that much.

One of the things that, to me, seemed like a main theme in Jinx's arc in season 1 was the contrast between her two families, and how her switch from Vander's daughter to Silco's drastically changes the way her personality takes shape.

And I hate that the fandom, and now the show, too, has reduced Silco to an unhealthy influence in Jinx's life, pushing her towards her "bad" side (being Jinx) when, for all his flaws... he gives her a better childhood than she ever had with Vander. The first three episodes of the first season, to me, when I watched them, illustrate quite clearly that Powder feels unhappy in her family life. She is the most mal-adjusted of Vander's kids. Her older brother constantly berates her, and it's quite clearly having a big effect on her self-image. She later takes up the Jinx name and persona once she feels like she has become irredeemable as a person. Her other brother never defends her. Vi is the only one who is there for her, and they care for each other, but at the same time you can see there's still a little insecurity in their relationship. Vi is worried that maybe Powder is indeed too weak, and Powder worries that maybe Vi does indeed see her as a Jinx like her brother does.

And when it comes to Vander... he's just not really all that present in her life. And I don't blame him, the man has four kids to take care of, on top of keeping things running in the Undercity. It's clearly not his intention. But it doesn't change the fact that he's not there for Powder, not as much as she needs. To me, when I watched the first season, it seemed like Vander was a figure that felt far away to Powder, someone that she admired but also feared being completely herself around, and someone that she ultimately wished to be closer to than she actually was. It's worth mentioning that Jinx never says his name post time skip, and he is not a hallucination for her, not until Vi brings him up in the finale. Hell, Claggor is somehow a hallucination for her and he never even speaks. Vander was just not an influential figure in Jinx's life.

I always found the scene at the end of ep3 of s1 fascinating, because Powder never once mourns Vander. She never once cries for him and never once says his name. When she sees his dead body, she becomes shocked and starts crying, but it's not actually what breaks her. What breaks her is Vi's rejection. Had it just been that she accidentally caused the deaths of her brothers and adoptive father, she would not have crumbled mentally. It's Vi's rejection that destroys her. Now, of course, a little girl that cares more about her sister's affection towards her than the lives of her family members is kinda messed up, but that's what makes her character interesting. And we can see that that little girl doesn't go anywhere, as Jinx displays the exact same one-mindness about her sister. Because Jinx and Powder were never really that different, after all.

She is quite clearly placed with her back to Vander's body, that she never turns to, barely looks at, only enough to recognize him and see he's dead, and never says the name of. She's turned towards Vi, calling for Vi, crying because of Vi, and no one else. Heck, Vi had just been crying over his body a few moment ago. Vi is clearly distraught over his death. Vi is devastated, she literally punches her sister and curses her in the exact worst possible way she can, in the way she know it will hurt her sister the most. But Powder... she just honestly dgaf.

So to then hear Jinx say this line in season 2...

...is just straight up jarring. I was pulled out of the story when I heard this. This is Jinx saying this to Vi. This kinda makes it seem like it was Jinx who was most attached to Vander, or at least that she was just as attached to him as Vi was. Which is just not how things seemed in the story at literally any point until this one. And then season 2 continues this way, and somehow makes Jinx seem like the closest daughter to Vander. Flipping Warwick literally acts more attached to Jinx than Vander ever did to Powder. Like literally. Season 1 clearly sets up that Vi is the favorite daughter, and then they just... flip it?? Warwick cares more for Jinx and responds better to her than to Vi. It's actually insane. It's true they sanitized Jinx's character to hell and back this season, but this is a straight-up rewrite. I can't wrap my mind around why they did this. Plus, the entirety of act 2 they set up this weird and pointless arc of Jinx rekindling her relationship with Vander or something... and like literally her story was genuinely never about that.

(This COULD have been Vi's story. And that might have actually been cool, and made sense. Maybe Vi is the one who finds him, and she is the one who helps him calm down. And then she brings Jinx, and maybe Jinx is terrified because she was never that close to Vander, and then she literally killed him, so seeing him again is the last thing she wants. Maybe VI is the one who tells Jinx that "he was your dad, too", which would make A LOT more sense, and maybe that's the first time that Jinx thinks that oh, yeah, he was... And then maybe they have a cute moment where Vander forgives her. Or maybe she sees the state he's in right now and loses it completely. Or maybe they look at each other and they both see the monster each of them has become. And then maybe Vi looks down at the enforcer uniform she's wearing, and, privately, sees it too. Idk. The things we could have had.)

Silco was actually a good dad to Jinx, in all the ways that Vander wasn't. He gives her all the attention that she never had before. He not only listens to her, but actively asks for her side of the story. He never insults her, and he defends her against Sevika. He trusts her and gives her opportunities to prove she's capable. She goes from being one of four siblings, and getting lost in the shuffle and often ending up feeling forgotten and alone, to being the most important child, always taken into consideration and almost put on a pedestal by her dad (this, like, has to have cured some inner wounds, i think).

Silco understands Jinx better than any other character in the show, and I'm genuinely sad that we didn't get to see any flashback of Jinx growing up with him. Because their relationship was so unique, and so integral to Jinx's character and to the rest of the story, that the fact that we never get to see any other glimpse into their bond is just...

As a final note, I'd also like to add that I dislike when people say that Silco "groomed" Jinx. I think a much more realistic analysis is that he enabled her. And as for all the times he tells Jinx that Vi "betrayed her", that's just a reflection of his own trauma, and also because he fears that if Jinx knew Vi was alive, she would go back to her and leave him (which, considering what goes down in the s1 finale, not an unfounded fear). It's wrong that he does that, but it's not out of malicious intent (also tbh Jinx never really seems to believe him anyway).

And for all the people who say that Silco "turned Jinx into a terrorist" (dumbest people in this fandom fr, im sorry), that's just straight up not true. Powder was already like that. That is quite literally why Silco adopts her. Because he sees that she's like him. Silco would not have taken Powder in if he thought she was just a cute, innocent kid who was orphaned (to, what, raise her for years so that, MAYBE when she's older, she MIGHT be useful to him? when they meet he doesn't know she's the one that caused the explosion, he just knows that she's been abandoned by Vi). This is the kid who thought playing around with explosives was a fun hobby. This is the kid who giggled at the thought of hurting others. This is the kid who already suffered from explosive emotions. This is the kid who saw her father and her brothers dead, because of her, and all she cared about was whether her sister was mad at her because of it. This is the kid who throws herself at the first person she sees, someone who her sister hates, who is the cause of all this destruction, and with an anger that shocks most viewers, declares that Vi is not her sister anymore. She is livid in that one moment.

Powder already had it in her from the beginning. And it's also ok to like a character (and to write one) even if they are not 100% morally pure in every single way under the sun, cause that is quite literally what stories are for.

[aboutcustardcreams]

Wake up call

Agathario x reader

Another scene I'm deeply in love with is Agatha and Rio's fight happening in the first episode. So, here it is what would happen with r joining it.

pt. 2

Rio leaned closer to Agatha with a lopsided grin, “I’ve missed you,” she purred, tracing her former lover’s jawline with the curved blade in her hand. 

Agatha’s chest rose and fell, an expression of pure hatred flashed upon her blue eyes, mingled with a hint of something else, mabe fear. “I hate you.”

Rio lolled her head back and laughed bitterly, “course, you do.” 

The day you and Agatha vowed to never see her face anymore, her heart shattered until nothing was left of it. But she was Lady Death, meaning that no matter what you wanted, someday your paths would cross again and that’s what kept her going. 

You had just parked in the driveway, when an explosion coming from inside the house alerted you. On your way back from the grocery store, your memories came back one by one, and you almost hit a pedestrian or two at the realization that you and Agatha had been trapped under a spell for about three years. And now that you were ‘awake’, you were pretty sure she was too. You quickly got out of the car and stepped inside, silently praying that Agatha was okay. 

Last person you thought you’d see was Rio. 

“Drop the dagger now,” your voice came out sharp and dangerous. 

Both witches snapped their heads towards you. Your eyes locked with Agatha’s first. She breathed a sigh of relief at your sight, her blue orbs filled with all sorts of thoughts. 

“Hello, mi nena,” Rio quipped, tone softening at the sight of you. “Glad you’re awake too. Agatha and I were just.. catching up, right?”

You took a step closer, keeping your eyes on Rio. “I see– rude of you to start without me,” there was a hint of sarcasm in your voice, that both witches grasped. “Now, don’t make me repeat myself, you know I hate it.” 

“Uhm, I don’t know.” Instead of listening to you, Rio pushed the blade deeper against Agatha. The witch struggled to keep the blade at distance, trembling while doing so. 

Your hands turned into fists, a gust of wind rose up around you. Objects started levitating, the chandelier in the lounge room swayed and Agatha’s lips curled upwards, happy to realize your powers were still part of you. 

The vibrancy of your magic brought back all sorts of memories of the time you three spent together. “Looks like our sweet girl over there is in control of her powers. How does it feel, Agatha?” Rio asked in a mocking tone. “Don’t you resent her like you resent me?” 

The purple witch was quick to shake her head, scoffing to herself at the same time. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

When she looked at you, she saw one of the most incredible witches she ever had the pleasure to meet.

“You’re nothing like her.”

Rio let out a whiny sound, “why does she get special treatment and I don’t, huh?”

In the meantime, your irises turned the same color of your magic, a bright hue of silver and enveloped your entire body as well. 

“She did everything she could, while you–” she winced when the tip of the dagger pressed further against her skin. “What, huh? What are you blaming me for? I’m the natural order of all the things baby, and you know it. You always knew it!” 

When she pushed the blade further closer to her skin,  Agatha’s grip on Rio’s wrists loosened and the dagger scraped her. While Rio grinned at the sight of Agatha’s blood flowing so deliciously from her collarbone to her chestline, you levitated from the floor and your palms opened wide, exploding with your magic. 

“You’re nothing!” 

Rio let out a strangled yelp, as her body was thrown on the other side of the corridor. Agatha let out a sigh of relief, mouthing a fragile thank you in your direction as you rushed towards her. You didn’t say anything at first and simply hugged her, your heart thumping in your chest at incredible speed. 

“Are you hurt?” 

She shook her head, but you knew better. While that small cut wasn’t anything serious, you knew the pain in her heart was greater. You pressed your lips together, giving her a skeptical look. With a flick of your finger, you healed the wound on her skin,  and for some reason, it made Agatha feel even worse, but she didn’t say anything to you. 

Rio pulled herself up, stretching both arms and legs, “Ahw, did she make it better?” 

Agatha growled, fingers wiggling as if she could actually summon magic. 

You immediately stood in front of her, “don’t come any closer,” you warned her. 

The Green Witch hummed and her brows knitted in a frown, “where did I see this scene before?”

You swallowed thickly at the painful memories she was able to bring back with such ease. You had so many questions going on inside your head, the most important would probably be, why? Why the betrayal, why the lies, why the pain? 

“Cut the crap, Rio,” Agatha snapped, worrying about your sudden discomfort, “what do you want?”

She fake pouted at her angry tone, “you used to be much nicer to me,” with the tip of the blade, she moved a strand of hair from her face. And when you scoffed, a dark shadow passed through her eyes, “I’m just missing the old days. I want you back– in a way or another, meaning that if I have to kill you both, I will,” she added the last part with a strange look in her eyes. Almost hysterical. You only had a couple of seconds to react. Rio’s dagger flew in your direction, missing you and Agatha by a nose, as you shoved her to the side, shielding her with your body. 

Agatha grunted at the sound of Rio’s giggles, “I’m gonna kill her.” 

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, “it’s not possible, unfortunately.” 

Propping yourself up, you helped Agatha do the same. 

While doing so, you spotted the dagger behind you. You pointed at it to Agatha with a nod of your head. She was closer to the weapon so she lunged forward to grab it. Rio ignored her and focused on you. She gave you little time to anticipate her move and with a yelp she sprung forward, fuelled by her magic. Before you knew it, her fingers tightened around your neck and squeezed. 

Her head lolled to the side, and watched you with a mixture of nostalgia and admiration, “naughty, naughty–”

“Let her go!” Before Agatha could even make an attempt to stab Lady Death on the shoulder, Rio sent her flying in the lounge room, her back hitting a cabinet that after the impact, crashed on top of her.  

Your eyes snapped open, as you squirmed but to no avail, “Agatha!” 

“Do you remember pain, my love?”

“I never stopped feeling it since the day you betrayed us.”

You still resented her for the things she did. And you probably would for the rest of your life. Her face dimmed and her lips pursed into a grimace; the grip around your neck loosened, but she didn’t let go. Was that disappointment settling in her chest? 

“You’re so clueless about the things I did for you.” 

Tears pricked at your eyes, but despite them a choked chuckle slipped from your lips. She did nothing for you, nor for Agatha and even less for Nicky. She only took, betrayed your trust and hurt you in the most inexplicable way. 

“All you did was make things worse.”

Rio snarled at your accusation,“you knew that messing with the Fates wasn’t without consequences!” 

Your answer came out in a faint, yet determined whisper, “you were the one to send the Furies my way.” 

In the meantime, Agatha straightened herself out, wincing at the pain in her arms, as shreds of glass cut through her skin. She scanned the surroundings  in search of something, anything that could be used against Rio. While her eyes landed on a wooden tray, Rio blasted you against the wall behind you with full demoniac force, her voice distorted as well, sounding deeper and animalistic, “I had no other choice!”

Agatha mentally screamed at the chunks of plaster coming down at you. 

You whimpered, feeling Rio’s body towering over yours, “sorry, did it tickle too much?” 

Despite the dizziness, you found the sassiness to roll your shoulders, “No.” With the corner of your eye, you spotted Agatha coming your way, holding something in her hands. Realizing what it was made you almost chuckle. “But I bet this will.” 

Before Rio could ask you what you meant, the purple witch hit the back of her head with an angry growl and a deadly stare in the eye.  

“Dark Mother, I’m so sick of her,” she muttered, glancing back at you. 

You chuckled briefly, before erupting into a fit of coughs. Your throat felt on fire because of Rio. You were pretty sure it was bruising already for how much she squeezed. Agatha kneeled in front of you, her fingers hovering over your neck, but barely touching it, for fear of causing you extra pain,  “I’m sorry about–” 

“Don’t. The ‘s’ word isn’t allowed,” you chided her softly. She nibbled the inside of her cheek, blinking back the tears from her eyes. She hated feeling powerless, even more now considering you could really use some of her purple as backup.

Noticing the veil of sadness in her eyes, you tried to cheer her up, giving her a playful nudge, “what you did was rather hot by the way.” 

She snorted out a laugh, “are you turned on, love?” 

A playful smirk tugged at your lips, “maybe.”

She pulled you closer, tugging at the fabric of your blouse. Her forehead adhered against yours and you closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to inhale her sweet. Her hand ran from your collarbone up to your chin, her thumb gently grazed your bottom lip, pushing it down and making you smile. When you reopened your eyes, you took her hand in yours, and intertwined your fingers together in the attempt to brush aside all the worries you spotted in her eyes. 

Rio let out a frustrated growl, “Good job, Agatha. I’m impressed. A little higher and that would have really hurt.” 

On instinct, you tried to move Agatha behind you, but she resisted, making you frown. 

“Ugh!” Rio swept her tongue over her lips, “the way she would throw herself in Hell for you really warms my heart.” 

You said nothing because it was true. You would do the craziest things for her, just like you did for Nicky. 

Agatha smacked her lips, almost laughing in her face. “Please, you don’t have a heart.” 

Rio locked eyes with her, and for a moment you spotted a veil of hurt in her brown orbs. “Yes, I do,” she argued, before dropping her voice into a softer murmur, “it’s black and it beats for both of you.”

Agatha said nothing, while you couldn’t bring yourself to be quiet after that colossal lie, “you’re pathetic.”

Her gaze narrowed towards you; a flash of fury dimmed her features. “Madness turned you into a real brat. Perhaps you fancy another ride?” 

You swallowed thickly and turned stiff. Those words stung painfully, there was no point in hiding it. You hated how easily she could bring back the memories of your trauma, making you feel as if you were reviving it all over again. 

A single tear slipped from your eye, but you were quick to wipe it. Agatha’s hand found yours and squeezed; she felt your magic tickling her skin, it was mirroring your emotions and she knew it would burst soon. 

“You’re a monster,” Agatha’s voice came out in hiss. 

Then it happened. You let go of Agatha’s hand and tackled Rio on the floor. Her back hit the ground with force, and despite that, she laughed. You pinned her wrists above her head, digging your fingernails into her skin, wishing to hurt, to tear the skin apart, and make her feel even an ounce of the pain you endured because of her. 

Agatha’s eyes widened both in shock and surprise at your outburst. 

“My, my, aren’t you sexy when you’re mad?”

You smacked her across the face. Hard. 

“Woah, okay girl–”, she conceded, calling a truce, “tell me what you want.” 

“I want you to get the fuck out of my life.” 

Rio lifted her chin up, a dark chuckle escaped her lips, “All roads lead to me, mi nena. Whether you like it or not, you’ll die. Why can’t we speed up the process?” 

“You’re not allowed to kill us,” your voice dropped in an icy growl. 

“I second that,” Agatha quipped. 

Rio scoffed amusedly, “are you sure about that?” Before you could respond with another sassy remark, she headbutted you straight on the nose. You fell to the side, letting go of Rio’s wrists and allowing her to flee from your grasp. You groaned and cursed under your breath, when she kicked your side with the boot of her shoe. Agatha took you in her arms, as quickly as she could, then started crawling backwards with you firmly pressed against her chest, “you okay?” 

“Fine,” you croaked out, in annoyance. 

By the look on your bloody face, she realized you’d very well use a break. 

But Rio seemed to have other ideas, the knife was back in her hand as she approached you. 

“Wait, just wait a damn second–” Agatha held out a hand towards the Green Witch, while the other remained wrapped around your underarms. 

Rio hummed and traced the tip of the blade with her fingertips. 

“This isn’t what you want. Plus, I don’t have any powers so it’s not exactly a fair fight, is it?” She gave a nervous chuckle, hoping her words would buy you some time to recover. “Don’t you want us at our best?” 

Rio grinned, with a devilish light in her eyes, “Horizontal, in  a grave?”

“Not exactly,” she muttered, “I mean, in full control of our powers. Just let me get my purple back, let her recover and if you really want to– come back and find us.”

Your breath hitched, it was hard to breathe properly with the blood clogging your nostrils. You summoned your magic, and despite being a tad weaker, you knew it could heal you if given proper time. 

“Why don’t you take mine?” Rio’s suggestion made your stomach lurch. 

“That’s cute,” Agatha mused. “But you know that would kill me.”

“Then what about hers?” 

It didn’t seem like a terrible idea to you. But Agatha’s answer was categorical, “No.” 

You looked up at her, noticing the hesitation in her features. Maybe fear too. Truth was, she didn’t trust herself to do such a thing, not to you. You knew she found immense pleasure in sucking away powers from witches, she knew it was wrong, and for years the only reason why she did that was to keep Nicky alive. That’s the reason why you helped her do it. As a mother you could back up from your responsibilities and as a witch, you learned the hard way that in order to survive you had to do all sorts of things. 

There was something about your magic that scared Agatha. You were the only necromancer witch she ever crossed paths with, so she wasn’t sure she would be able to pull away from you, once she got a taste of your forbidden  magic.

Rio pursed her lips in a grimace, “you’re such a coward.”

“She isn’t,” you argued back. 

When Rio finally put the dagger down, both you and Agatha frowned in confusion. “Show me, then. Blast her. Help her restore her purple.” 

“We aren’t doing this, Rio,” Agatha insisted rather adamantly. 

“I’d think about it before making a decision, my love,” Rio leaned closer, her voice soft and eerily calm. “You see, I'm not the only one that wishes you dead. I’d expect guests at sundown.”

You frowned at her words, “who do you mean?”  

Rio’s eyes flashed with excitement. “The worst of them. The Salem Seven.” 

For a moment both you and Agatha fell quiet. You felt Agatha turn still behind you, and your heart ached for her. You turned to face her, as the grip around your middle loosened. 

“Hey, I’m here, Agatha,” your voice came out both firm and tender. “It’s going to be alright”

Rio laughed softly at that. She shoved your shoulder in a playful way, “I have a feeling we will meet again, very soon.”

She paused where once it stood the front door, “Hasta luego,” she waved her fingers before stepping out of the house. 

You considered Rio’s words, and as much as you wished to find another solution, there wasn’t really another way to restore Agatha’s powers, especially not in such a short time. 

“Maybe–”

“Don’t,” she cut you off, sharply. 

You raised your hands defensively, “Fine, sorry. But I think we should at least think about it.”

When she didn’t respond, you decided to give her a moment. Pushing yourself up, your eyes darted to the mess around you. There were pieces of furniture pretty much everywhere, shreds of glass, plates and cutlery and even sections of ripped wallpaper, along with chunks of plasters, “this is not how I imagined to spend this Friday…” you hoped your little joke would put a smile on Agatha’s face, but she remained motionless. 

Agatha started to regret having woken up from Wanda’s spell. Now not only was she awake, but she had no power, the Salem Seven and Rio wanted her dead, her house was falling to pieces, and on top of that, you were in potential danger because of her. The only reason why she survived the loss of Nicky was because of you. But if she lost you too…

She clenched her eyes and took a deep breath, refusing to dwell in such thoughts. 

“Uhm, Agatha?” You were wrong to think nothing else could surprise you that day. 

She made a hum sound, finally getting on her feet, face turned towards you. 

“Why is there a gagged boy in our wardrobe?”

[apocalypticginger-blog]

The fact that Crowley grabs Aziraphale's lapels the same way in season 2 as he did in season 1 shows how that action was always meant as an intimate gesture by him. It meant intimacy to Crowley back then, and it means intimacy now.

We're talking about a deliberate acting choice from David, here. He chose to grab Michael that way in episode 6 for a reason. He's creating a connection to season 1, bridging two separate moments in the characters' relationship with a single gesture.

Crowley and Aziraphale have loved each other for a long, long time. They were never able to say or act on it before. But they both knew the meaning behind every little touch, every look, every lapel grab.

Yes, they both knew it. Aziraphale didn't feel threatened the first time it happened. Well, he certainly doesn't feel threatened now, either. Look at how he lets himself get dragged into the kiss. The amount of trust between these two! He's leaning in even before he realises where Crowley is dragging him (towards those gorgeous lips, of course).

It gets worse... Neil knows precisely how much we've treasured that scene from season 1 since it aired, so he decided to use it against us.

Absolute genius!

...Evil.

.......but still genius!