#because i thought “if they hurt others then they deserve to be hurt too”

[ellecdc]

grovelling under an old oak tree

prompt from @redeyesthicthighs: I have been thinking about our girl Vix & craving some good ol’ hurt/comfort with a touch of groveling from one of the boys... I feel like we tend to see Sirius or James be the ones to step wrong and then have to fix it but… I know we are all obsessed with Remus and he truly is an angel (I KNOW! YOU KNOW I KNOW!) but how do you think he would grovel?

poly!marauders x vixen!reader who Remus needs to apologize to [1.3k words]

CW: fem!reader, Remus yelled at her/told her off off screen, Remus-centric, begging for forgiveness, hurt/comfort and fluff

“Sirius, I think you ought to at least pretend to be a little less happy about how upset your girlfriend is right now.” Remus scolded instead of acknowledging the fact that he was currently in the wrong.

Sirius simply snorted at him. “Of course I’m not happy about my girlfriend being upset, Moony. I’m just thoroughly enjoying the fact that it’s not my fault.”

”It doesn’t hurt that Moony was the arse this time.” James added rather unhelpfully. 

“I wasn’t an-” Remus started as he stood straighter, cutting himself off and taking a steadying breath. He really was sort of an arse. It was the day after a full, Remus was feeling particularly sorry for himself - his hip seemingly giving him more problems today than it had in months - and you had been your normal, vibrant, effervescent self. 

The way Remus spoke to you probably had you thinking that was a crime worthy of Azkaban. 

You’d taken off - of course you had - because who would want to stick around to be spoken to like that?

It probably hadn’t helped matters that the other two boys were so thoroughly shocked by Remus’ outburst that neither of them thought to say anything to you, and Remus himself was too simultaneously proud and full of self loathing to retract his earlier sentiments.

The last thing any of them had seen from their dormitory window was a small red fox bolting into the forest. 

“I was an arse.” Remus admitted in defeat.

”Fuck yeah you were!” Sirius cheered, earning him a high-five from James as though the two of them had been watching a quidditch match and not Remus simply pull on a jacket, hat, and scarf to go out in search of you. 

“I need you to enjoy this a little less, please.” Remus sighed.

”No can do, Moonbeam; I’ll be riding this high all week. Can you imagine!? I wonder what it would be like to have Remus grovelling at our feet, eh Jamie?”

“Fuck off. The difference between the two of you and Vix is that you’d actually… deserve it...” He joked, though the atmosphere immediately fell flat when he remembered that he had, indeed, been an arse to you. And what’s more, you didn’t deserve it in the least. 

“Fuck; I was an arse.” Remus reiterated.

”Do you want us to help, Rem?” James finally asked, clearly taking pity on Remus who, in his defence, was not at all used to being in the dog house. 

“No… no. I- I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.” Remus decided; whether he was convincing himself or his boyfriend’s, he wasn’t sure as he ventured out of his dormitory in search of his girlfriend. 

…

He supposed that, all things considered, he should be thankful for the mixture of rain and snow that was currently falling from the sky. If nothing else, it served to leave a definitive trail of paw prints in the soft ground leading Remus to where you’d gone and hidden.

From him.

You were hiding from him.  

Fuck, he was an arse. 

There was a small hole in the earth under a tangle of roots beneath a grand old oak where your paw prints came to a decided halt. 

“Dovey?” He tried carefully; he heard an exhale and a shuffle. “Sweetheart? I’m sorry…” 

He received no response. 

Remus didn’t think he was in a position to ask anything of you; not to hear him out, not to come out and talk to him, not even to come back inside so he’d - at the very least - sleep knowing you were indoors and warm. 

So, screaming hip be damned, he lowered himself to the ground, the layers he was wearing doing nothing to protect him from the biting cold of the muddy ground as it seeped into his front. 

He wondered for a moment if he should feel embarrassed should a passerby notice a student prostrate beneath the trunk of an old oak tree, but he decided pleading for your forgiveness outweighed any potential embarrassment. 

“Vix, I’m sorry, love.” He pressed earnestly; a small white muzzle appearing near the entrance of your burrow. “I didn’t mean it.” 

You let out a huff and moved to turn your face back away from him. Yes you did, you seemed to argue.

”I didn’t, sweetheart. But I shouldn’t have said it, and that doesn’t excuse that I still did.” 

You kept your face turned away from him. 

“Dovey, I-” Remus paused and bit in a breath, using his elbows to pull him that much closer to your burrow and streak that much more mud up his front. “Pads and Prongs…they saved me. But…but you- you brought light back into my life, and you manage to do that even on my darkest days.” 

He waited a few beats before he continued. “Even when I don’t deserve it.”

One of your back legs twitched as though you were itching to move but actively fought against it. 

“Even when it’s the pain that’s talking, and not me. Even when I know it’s the pain talking for me and I let it anyway. Even when all I want to do is sit and wallow and feel sorry for myself you-” He felt embarrassingly close to tears. “You never fail to share what little light you might have to offer; to me, to Sirius and James, to everyone around you. It’s one of the things I love most about you, and I berated you for it.” 

More silence.

”I’m sorry.” 

He didn’t push. He simply laid on his stomach beneath an old oak tree in the Forbidden Forest under the light of the waning moon as he watched your fur fall and rise in time with your breathing whilst you refused to look at him. The only movement other than the infinitesimal twitching of your legs and ears. 

“Okay, that’s alright.” He sighed after an unknown stretch of time, turning his head to rest his cheek against his folded arms. “I’ll be here, okay? Whenever you’re ready.” 

Remus’ blinks became sticky with the moisture gathering along his eyelashes between the cold and the sleet quickly soaking him through the top of his jacket, leaving him damp on all sides. 

He was just about resigned to spending the entire night out here, perhaps being found by a rather smug Sirius or slightly less smug but no less pleased James covered in a thick layer of frost not unlike the heather bushes lining much of the landscape come morning when he felt a wet, warm nudge to his cheek.

He peeled his eyes open to see a small red fox standing above him with a curious tilt to its head.

“I’m fine to wait out here if that’s what you need, dove.” He assured you, shifting his head to look at you though never lifting it from his arms. “Don’t worry on my account.”

Your ears twitched again - towards something deep in the forest behind you - but you kept your eyes dutifully on him before pressing another boop to his cheek. 

“Ready to go inside?” He asked, daring to prop himself up on his elbows. A definitive yipping sound told him yes, you were. 

Remus finally moved to stand, hip cracking audibly though he kept his face painfully neutral so as not to have you feeling inadvertently guilty. Remus thought he probably deserved to spend more time on the cold wet ground for the way he spoke to you.

“Hope this doesn’t mean you’ve gone and forgiven me yet, Vix.” He declared sternly, bending slightly to pick you up when you stood on your hind legs to press gentle paws into his thigh. “I have much more grovelling to do.”

You made a fox-like laughing sound before shoving your nose into his neck, nuzzling closer to him in as much of a hug as a fox could manage. 

“And if Sirius or James ever spoke to you that way, I’d expect you to leave them begging for days.”

[thisisntmyrightera]

Together - CHO HYUN-JU x Fem Reader Part 4

Summary: Reader is scammed and abandoned by her boyfriend, leaving her alone in South Korea to her fate, so in desperate search of a solution to return to her home country she decides to join the squid games to get money, within the game she meets a couple of people who become her friends and could possibly be something more.

Warning: Violence, homophobia mention of attempted rape and sexist language

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My eyes closed as I felt a push that made me fall and when the counter stopped, my hands could only go to my face in fear, no shot hit me and a hand touched my shoulder making me jump scared.

Calm down, are you safe - Dae-Ho spoke in a low voice making my hands go down slowly looking around - Did I hurt you? Sorry if I pushed you too hard

I'm fine - I looked at him barely with agitated breathing while Jung-Bae looked at me worried - thanks

You don't have to thank me, why did they leave you outside? I thought they were your friends - Dae-Ho helped me up pretending to be upset

They didn't kick me out, I gave my place to Geum-Ja, she deserved that place more than me - I looked at him sighing annoyed feeling the intention of his comments

You are very brave girl, I couldn't have done it - Jung-Bae looked at me touching his chest in a sign of concern - the good thing is that we were able to find you in time and you are here

As soon as I nodded I approached the small gap in the door, it was my chance to do it because I knew that Hyun-Ju would never let me do it if I was with her.

Standing on my toes to reach the little open space in the door, I could see how they picked up the bodies, one by one putting them in black boxes decorated with pink bows and they took them away piled up without caring.

The sound of the door ringing was my signal to run out of there, looking around at unfamiliar faces while hearing murmurs and laughter from those who were crazy, I walked through the people not caring if I pushed anyone until in the distance I could see Yong-Sik and Geum-Ja hugging each other, behind them Hyun-Ju standing looking at the floor while wiping her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweater.

HYUN-JU - I screamed with all the air left in my lungs making everyone turn their heads towards me as I ran splashing blood with my feet from every bloody puddle I crossed - Hyun-Ju!!

Her eyes widened, her legs buckled as she ran and she could barely hold herself up when I collided with her in a hug and her arms surrounded my body so tightly that it made my bones ache

Are you okay? Did they hurt you? - her hands took my face looking at me while I trembled - did they do something to you?

No, no I…I'm fine - I smiled at her taking her hand looking at her dark eyes

Don't do that again, you heard me? Never do something as stupid as that again, they could have killed you, I told you to stay by my side and I want you to always be there, understood? - her chest rose and fell breathing heavily while her lips trembled and her eyes mixed between fear and anger stared at me without letting go of my face

I understood..- I gave her a slight smile nodding

My little one…are you okay - Geum-Ja ran slowly hugging me tightly - you shouldn't have done that for an old woman like me, they could have hurt you

That doesn't matter, we're fine okay?..- I smiled taking her hand looking at the others- come on…we have to go to the platform

This time we walked carefully, as if slipping on the blood was the worst thing that could happen to us and ruined our green outfit.

This time don't separate from me, understood? - Hyun-Ju took my hand again standing next to me, this time interlacing her fingers with mine while I just nodded slowly looking at our hands nervously

The children's song started once again, the platform spun and I, like everyone else, looked around looking for the closest door to run to as soon as the game stopped

''2'' the speaker spoke making everyone run

Run, run! - Hyun-Ju pulled my arm almost tearing it off my body as she ran with giant steps compared to mine, pushing anyone in front of us until she reached a green door that she opened with such force that it seemed to rip it off the hinges and then made us enter leaning her back against the door to prevent anyone from opening it - we did it…

I just nodded tiredly, taking a breath as I leaned on my knees trying not to faint

Y/N..who helped you last round? - she looked at me curiously after a couple of minutes in complete silence

Dae-Ho and… Jung-Bae - I looked at her sitting on the floor - the truth is I still don't know how they did it, I just felt a push and when I opened my eyes I was inside

I'm sure it was Dae-Ho… - she looked at me smiling slightly and then looked at the floor and when she heard the door lock and the shots she quickly walked away sitting next to me hugging her knees

Do you forgive me for… leaving the room?.. - I looked at her timidly getting closer trying to see her face between the strands of her hair

I'm not upset… it's just that… I got scared okay? One second you were by my side and the next you ran away without saying anything…

I did it for Geum-Ja I…

I know you did it for her and that's very brave but how was I supposed to stay here without you? -she looked at me again with her eyes annoyed but full of something that I didn't want to confuse with love- if they killed you how was I supposed to stay in this damn place if they took away the only thing I have?

The.. only thing you have?..- I looked at her curiously while she lowered her head again hiding her face between locks of hair

Nothing… I didn't say anything…

Yes you said it.. what do you mean by that Hyun-Ju?.. what do you mean by…

that you are the only reason why my heart has found meaning to keep living… that I'm not supposed to feel this way because I know that you will never feel the same for me but I do and I feel selfish for that do you understand? - her tears ran slowly down her cheeks with her lip trembling

You're even more selfish by keeping those feelings to yourself…because then…I would have never known that you feel the same way I feel about you

No…don't say that just because I'm crying - she give a small laugh wiping her tears

Then stop crying and say it again…I like you Hyun-Ju and if that's wrong I think it's worse that we're doing this for money…don't you think? - I smiled at her trying to break the tension making her laugh again while wiping her face looking at me embarrassed with her cheeks slightly flushed

Me too…I like you…- she smile shaking her head looking at the floor- it's very stupid no? I went through all this transition to end up falling in love with a girl..

It's not stupid… if you feel that being a woman is what you are, I don't see anything wrong with you being happy, anyway we won't be the first girls to form a nice couple - I smiled at her taking her hand leaning on her arm closing my eyes feeling peace among so much chaos

When we go out, think twice before making the decision to go home, okay? - her cheek rested on my head sighing calmly

Only if you take me to see Thailand…

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So…if you're a girl…and she's a girl…you're…

Mom!…Shut up already - Yong-Sik looked at her sadly while Hyun-Ju and I laughed looking at the confused woman - that's not a question, it's disrespectful

It's just a question, you spoiled brat, don't you dare tell me to shut up, I'm your mother - Geum-Ja looked at him angrily hitting his arm making him fall on the mattress of his bed

We just like each other - I smiled at her crossing my legs on the mattress sitting next to Hyun-Ju

Yes but…how do you like her? She's not a woman yet, but she's not a man either…it's like in between, you know…what part of Hyun-Ju do you like? -The curious woman looked at me trying to figure out my head making me smile

Well…

Y/N..-Dae-Ho's voice made us look towards the stairs as he approached us rubbing his hands - Hello..everyone - the boy smiled embarrassed - I just came to ask if you were okay, it's just that after the last round I couldn't find you anymore..and I was curious..

I'm fine..thanks - I smiled barely, being kind for the act of having helped me

Well, I'm glad -he smiled looking at the floor without stopping rubbing his hands- if you're still a little hungry, we have some Gimbap if you want to come

She's fine - Hyun-Ju raised her voice making both of them look into each other's eyes

Yes, go back to your bed son, she's fine Hyun-Ju is taking good care of her girl -Geum-Ja smiled innocently making Dae-Ho clench his jaw nodding looking Hyun-Ju in the eyes before turning around and going back to his team

Mom…you don't know how to keep your mouth shut again - Yong-Sik sighed covering his face sighing annoyed

It wasn't long before we heard screams and commotion coming from the bathroom and after a while a song would play on the speakers followed by a voice

''These are the eliminated players, player 230, player 268, player 299, player 331 and player 401 eliminated''

What happened? - Geum-Ja looked at us without understanding as did everyone around who looked at each other

The bathroom doors opened, two soldiers entered followed by players covered in blood, some walking with difficulty, Nam-Gyu making a fuss while arguing between both teams making us all get out of our beds to do a count again

Hyun-Ju..-I looked at her with fear squeezing her arm- I don't have a good feeling

Me neither..but don't worry nothing bad is going to happen to you - she looked at me giving me a fake smile while we stood in the crowd of team X

Gi-Hun counted, over and over again making sure not to lose any player, in the end we had only lost 2 people and we were 1 ahead of team O and while he told us things about the previous game he also came up with a plan.

He talked about making a plan, defending ourselves because he knew that those from the other team would attack us and to get out unharmed we would have to hide under the beds, then when most of them were dead we would attack the soldiers taking their weapons and we would look for a way out.

His plan didn't make me feel more than that it was a suicide mission, how was it possible that we would overcome trained soldiers with loaded weapons, my mind only overthought and created catastrophic scenarios where we would all end up dead

Are you okay? - Hyun-Ju whispered in my ear bringing me out of the trance just making me nod - are you sure?

I don't think it's a good idea - I looked at her whispering without interrupting Gi-Hun and after a while and while the speaker announced that in 10 minutes the lights would go out each one decided to go to their bed, this time, we both decided to go to Hyun-Ju's bed that was lower than mine to make it easier for us to hide when the lights went out

Believe me, we'll be fine - She whispered taking my hand - you don't have to do anything, we'll just hide and when the guards come in I'll go with them for the weapons

Hyun-Ju… I don't need you to always protect me, just because I'm a woman you and them shouldn't take care of me from everything

They may do it because you're a woman, but I do it because you're my woman, right? - She looked at me making me feel those fireworks inside me again, it was the least appropriate moment and everything in my head sounded a thousand times more exaggerated than normal making me want to throw myself off the highest bed into the void

I… I have to confess something to you - I looked at her nervously sighing deeply - I… I grew up with two brothers, one of them is a soldier and they taught me how to shoot, maybe it's not the same compared to your experience but… if you need someone else I'll join you okay?

No… I won't let you go fight against soldiers, are you crazy? - She frowned again, a sign that she was getting upset

We went in together and we'll come out together, right? You said that I would never leave your side…

''Players, the lights will go out in 10..9..8..7..6…''

Hyun-Ju..-i sighed in fear, clenching her hand under the covers - If we don't survive tonight…

Stay calm, I promise… I… - it was now or never, in 5 seconds the lights would go out and if we were attacked there was the same chance of surviving or dying, the same chance of leaving together or never seeing her again, my head was spinning overthinking again trying to convince myself that I shouldn't be afraid, I wasn't afraid when I left that room to be shot, I shouldn't be afraid now.

My trembling hands took her face and as I closed my eyes my lips kissed hers leaving us both frozen

''5..4..3..2..1…''

I love you - I whispered barely separating from her without being able to look at her face because of the darkness around us

And I love you…let's go…

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We have an impostor…guess who?

Today i just write a little, my hands still hurting by the accident i have but i can't resist anymore, Thanks for reading, I'll be back soon!

Tag List!

@kuureii @sann1e @sunflowers-are-heaven @bridellashiper @etta-huracan @cupiid1 @alianacelinecolux @juliexz @duchcess @stvrdustalexx @styles-weasley @cupiid1 @babyzzlove @captainlunaxmen @lobotomyrealness @mariaxman @s-riddle16 @flowersbloom8787 @danisika @learninglinesintherainn @sl33pycaaat @mikuley

[thefemmefatalexo]

Toji SMAU - When love was always there

Chapter 13 - What comes after

Summary: You see him again on your first day of college. Fuck. Toji Zenin has been the bane of your existence since your first day of kindergarten. Over the 15 years you’ve had the “pleasure” of knowing him, he’s made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell. From chopping off your hair in kindergarten to pushing you into a pond on your first day of high school, Toji has done it all. You’d always thought he would choose a college far away from you, but as it has always been, fate came to kick your ass. Hard.

warnings: cursing, sexual language, mentions of bullying

an: sigh… i love him idc. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 12} ; {next}

taglist: @jinxiewritings @actuallyvalerie @clp-84

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

The drive to the location Toji sent you feels longer than it should. Maybe it’s because your mind is racing, or maybe it’s the late hour amplifying the stillness of the world outside. You pull into the dimly lit park, heart pounding, and spot him immediately—slouched on a bench, an empty whiskey bottle dangling precariously from his fingers. He looks utterly defeated, the sharp edges of his usual confidence dulled by whatever demons have led him here.

You step out of the car and approach cautiously. His head tilts slightly at the sound of your footsteps, but he doesn’t fully acknowledge you. Instead, he mumbles something incoherent, his words slurred.

“Toji.” Your voice is firm, sharper than you intended. “Get up. You’re coming with me. Your parents can‘t see you like this.“

He looks up at you with bleary eyes, his face flushed from alcohol. “Y-you came,” he slurs, his words tumbling over each other. “Missed you… swear I missed you. I’m sorry, okay? For everything. Just… I’m sorry.”

You don’t reply, don’t give him the satisfaction of even a hint of forgiveness right now. Instead, you focus on getting him upright, looping one of his heavy arms over your shoulders and guiding him to the car. His steps are unsteady, his weight pressing into you as he leans more than he should.

The entire drive back, he’s rambling. “You… you don’t get it,” he slurs, his head lolling back against the seat. “You think I’m just some… some asshole, huh? You hate me. I can’t… I hate me too, okay?” His words are fragmented but raw, the emotions behind them impossible to ignore.

You grip the steering wheel tighter, keeping your focus on the road. He keeps going, his voice breaking every now and then. “I never wanted to hurt you… never wanted to… God, you probably think I’m a piece of shit.”

You don’t respond. You just drive, his drunken words filling the silence.

When you finally reach your apartment, you manage to drag him inside. He’s heavier than he looks, and he isn’t exactly helping. As soon as you guide him into your room, he collapses onto your bed, sprawling across it like he owns the place.

“Toji, get up,” you say, exasperated.

“Nah,” he mutters, burying his face into your pillow. “This is… I’m good here.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real malice behind it. Instead, you sigh and kneel down, tugging his shoes off one by one. When you straighten up, his eyes are on you, glassy but sincere.

“You’re… too good,” he murmurs. “Too good for me. Always have been. Don’t deserve you… don’t deserve this.”

“Toji, just sleep,” you say, voice softer than before, despite your frustration.

He doesn’t listen. “I’m sorry,” he continues, his voice breaking. “For everything I said. For… all of it. You… you didn’t deserve that. Not you.”

Your chest tightens at his words, but you don’t respond. Instead, you awkwardly climb into bed beside him, keeping as much distance as possible.

“I mean it,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper now. “You’re… you’re the only good thing. Always have been. I just… I ruin everything.”

Tears sting at your eyes, but you blink them away. “We’ll talk in the morning, Toji,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

He nods faintly, and before long, his breathing evens out. You lie awake for a while, your mind racing with everything he’s said.

When you wake, the sunlight streaming through the window, you’re wrapped in his arms. His grip is loose but firm enough to hold you in place. You tilt your head slightly, studying his face in the soft morning light. There’s a scar on his lip, jagged and slightly faded. It hits you, a memory he once let slip years ago—that his older brother, Jinichi, gave him that scar during a fight. What had struck you most then was how casually he’d mentioned it, as if it were normal.

The thought churns uneasily in your stomach. His parents never punished Jinichi for it, just like they never seemed to care about all the other ways they neglected him. No wonder he resented his family, always carrying that bitterness like a second skin.

You carefully extract yourself from his hold, slipping out of bed without waking him. After a quick trip to the kitchen, you return with a glass of water, some painkillers, and a simple breakfast.

To your surprise, he’s already awake when you walk in. He sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes, and you wordlessly hand him the plate.

“Thanks,” he mutters, his voice hoarse.

The two of you eat in silence, the tension in the room palpable.

When you finally break the quiet, your voice is steady but firm. “Do you want to talk about last night?”

He glances at you, then looks away, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “Yeah,” he says, barely audible.

You wait, giving him the space to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, his voice low. “For… everything. I ain’t good with this… this kinda shit, but… I know I fucked up. A lot.”

“You did,” you say, your voice soft but unyielding. “And I can’t just… pretend like everything’s okay now. You’ve hurt me, Toji. A lot more than you probably realize.”

He nods, still not meeting your eyes. “I know. And I ain’t expectin’ you to just… forgive me like that. But… I’m gonna make it right. However long it takes.”

You study him for a moment before nodding. “We can try… being friends. Maybe.”

His lips twitch into something that almost resembles a smile. “Yeah. Friends.”

Neither of you mentions the way you woke up tangled in each other’s arms.

As you clear the dishes, Toji sits back, lost in thought. In his mind, he recalls waking up in the middle of the night, your face illuminated by the moonlight. He remembers thinking how beautiful you looked, how peaceful.

Your full lips had been slightly parted as you slept, and his hand had rested lightly on your hip, almost as if it belonged there. He’d never noticed the softness of your skin before, but last night it had been impossible to ignore.

It hit him then, like a punch to the gut. You were… everything. Too good, too kind, too beautiful.

[zshiftsrealties]

HOW I APPROACH SHIFTING/MANIFESTING AS A RELIGIOUS PERSON

this post was inspired by @st4rg1rl-1nterlude's blog.

I haven't put any personal information about myself out here yet, so this is going to be the first time I do anything of the like. I am a Muslim, and why I didn't really make a post like this before, is because I didn't find anyone who was also a Muslim and active in this community (or so I thought). only yesterday did I find out that there actually ARE other Muslims out here, and so I thought that maybe, if I share my pov on shifting/manifesting, it could help out someone else too. that's the intention behind this post.

just a quick note before I start, I am absolutely not bashing anyone for what they believe, and how they perceive shifting/manifesting/anything else. this is just my view that I wanted to share with other Muslims. and for people who follow me, and may believe differently than me; this is absolutely a safe place, and I totally respect each of your respective views.

there's going to be religious references (ayahs, etc), so if you're uncomfortable/uninterested, you can stop reading here.

okay now onto the topic.

• how I approach shifting?

as Muslims, we know that our bodies are not ours, and have instead been trusted onto us by Allah. we are the soul, not the body. and the body is only given to us so we can experience the 3D world. right?

that's exactly how I approach shifting too. since I am not the body, but the soul (or pure consciousness), i'm not bound to it. and souls, do not have any identity attached to them. and since we are souls, then — ultimately, everything that is true for the soul is true for us too. meaning we also do not have any identity attached to us. we aren't defined by gender, race or anything as such. we are just energy (soul). that's all. and energy doesn't feel happiness, sadness — any emotion, as humans do. not claiming that souls don't feel anything at all, but they're more at peace — taken separately — as compared to the vessel.

now onto the topic of "shifting is haram", so, personally — no. not to me. "haram" refers to something that will inevitably hurt you, or put you in harm's way (whether physically, or emotionally). that's the only reason why Allah has made many things haram. but shifting is literally just being aware of another you out there. it's like switching from one channel to another. and before you ask "but if we do something that's haram there, will we get sin for it?", so also, no. because in this moment, there are a billion yous in different universes, that are maybe commiting crimes, arson, whatnot. will your scale be filled with all of that? no. your scale is only going to be filled with what you do HERE. in this body. the body that you were first put in. what your soul — which is just you — does here. also your soul doesn't shift, your awareness does. (keep in mind, this is my view, and you're not liable to taking my word for anything).

now,

• how I approach manifesting?

manifesting is much more simpler. it's like making a dua, and knowing you'll get an answer 100% because of who you're asking. it's literally the EXACT same.

the only things you have to be mindful of is your self-concept, and your concept of who Allah is. if you absolutely believe that Allah can do anything for you, but you don't think you deserve it, then you'll probably not get it. why? because ultimately, your view of self will be reflected in your belief in Allah. if you think "I asked Allah for a car, but I don't think I'll get it because I don't deserve it" then even though you did ask, you won't get it, because you think you're not worthy of getting an answer back from Allah.

similarly, if your self-concept is absolutely perfect, but your view of Allah is, "he won't give it to me" or "Muslims don't get what they want in this life" or "everything comes after struggling", then do you see what you're doing here? assuming, and your assumptions always come true. also, your belief in you — or anything for that matter — cannot ever be more than your belief in Allah. so you won't get what you want, again.

why? see this.

"Allah the Exalted said, `I am as My servant thinks of Me.'" — Hadith 15, 40 Hadith Qudsi.

how you view Allah is exactly how you'll see Him be with you. so only think good of Allah, that is exactly what He is worthy of.

"Allah intends for you ease and does not intend for you hardship," — Surah Al-Baqarah, verse 185.

so, when Allah intends ease for you, you don't have to struggle to finally have what you want. Allah doesn't take any enjoyment in making you wait. He does not. so when making dua/manifesting, think beforehand about your view of your Creator.

you're not selfish for wanting the world and the akhirah. you can have both. your Lord will give you both. so, in your relation with your Lord, keep a good view on both you and Allah. that's how everything will work out.

and I know there are many posts and views that state that "you are the creator" or "you are the God" and "there's no higher being", and honestly, that's just their view, and it's valid, for them.

but for us, Muslims (or anyone who believes in God), we know that God takes care of everything 24/7.

"Not a leaf falls but that He knows it” — Surah Al-An'am, verse 59.

so, if even something so mundane is controlled by Him, it's almost absurd to read the notion that "we are the creator", much less believe it, right? and you don't have to. because you know your Creator will never ever leave you without giving you something that He has set your heart upon. so you don't have to control anything in the first place. just say what you want, tell Him and believe you'll get it, and without a doubt, you will.

incase that I skipped over anything, or if you have any questions, anything — feel free to ask.

[isagispuzzle]

CONGRATS ON 200 🤍 you deserve that and so much more !!

for your event, even tho it's rlly hard to pick just one trope, i would say that the second chances trope has been one of my recent favs lately!

HEHE THANK YOU NISHIII anyway are you in my walls.... because i've been thinking about doing a part 2 for my oliver angst piece like this timing is too perfect HAHAHA

oliver might have played it cool when his teammates found your makeup bag, but now, his heart is about to explode.

it hasn't been long since you moved out of his life. he found your makeup bag in his backpack the day after you left, but he didn't reach out to you till a month later. he told himself it's to give you time to rebuild a routine without him, to let your heart start to miss him a little before he re-entered your space. of course, he knows that's just an excuse, and he only hesitated to text you because he wanted to hold onto the remnants of you for just a little longer.

oliver doesn't fear much, but when his thumb hovered over the send button on his phone, it trembled at the prospect of giving up this last piece you've left him with, the last relic of your love.

yet, despite his selfish reluctance, he arranged to meet you at a cafe to return your makeup bag, because he knows how much the earrings inside mean to you.

(did he hurt you enough for you to give up retrieving a piece of your heart just to avoid speaking to him again?)

he reaches the cafe at four on the dot, like you agreed to. he scans the room and is surprised to see a jarring lack of you. you're not at the counter, nor at the window seat you loved, nor at the shelf on the inner wall, admiring the owner's memorabilia from across the globe. so he finds himself choosing the table, staring at an empty seat in front of him, without any sign of you.

barely a minute passes and his leg starts bouncing restlessly under the table. oliver checks his texts to see nothing new from you. he looks out the window just to see a new wave of strangers exiting the subway station, and when he doesn't see you in the crowd, he starts to pick at the nail on his thumb. his thoughts start to race. oliver wonders if he's been stood up. he doubts you'll ever break a promise with him, but what's to say that hasn't changed, now that he's no longer someone special to you?

oliver's palms start to sweat and he feels his pulse in his neck. this sucks, he thinks. he hates feeling like this. like he's grovelling for your scraps, like he's hanging off every little thing that could be related to you. he's always been the one to care less, the one with nothing to lose, the one who left the other begging for more.

yet here he is, breathing the biggest sigh of relief when you finally show up, five minutes past the agreed time. you're straight faced and composed, and you haven't done anything to your hair. in the fleeting moment when you walk past oliver, he notices that you smell different.

"you're early," you say as you sink into your seat, and his stomach drops.

you're echoing his words back to him, from back when he'd turn up late for dates and never utter a word of apology.

oliver sees the satisfaction billowing in your eyes. he recalls all the times there were tears in them instead, when you'd beg him to love you more.

(which, he never understood why you ever doubted his love for you, because you're the only one he's ever held onto for this long. you're the only one he could truly be himself with, the only one he never got bored with, the only one he wanted to build his life with. you're the only one he's ever truly loved.)

it's only when oliver catches himself apologising for everything he's done to you and promising he'll do better that he finally realises you were never a gamble to him. there was never any doubt that you're the one for him, and there was never any chance that he'll truly let you go. you were never a gamble to him, but a promise, which he now swears to keep like a vow.

you might be repeating the mistake of letting oliver into your life. but you see the sincerity in his eyes and the desperation in his words, and you convince yourself that he's learnt from his mistakes. the walls you prepared around your heart for this day crumble when you realise they had only kept him in your heart, not out.

so you reach out a hand for him to take, a peace treaty and a warning, a second chance and an ultimatum.

instead of the red string of fate, oliver sees a thin, translucent fishing line around your pinky and down his throat, because you've got him hook, line, and sinker.

[milli-moi]

Honestly, I have other thoughts on a few of your reads here on Agatha’s reasoning for wanting to make Wanda believe she is evil. At first I thought I disagreed but I don’t think I do, I think I more want to open the door (pun not initially intended - and then very intended) to other aspects of this pain.

I have a different perspective and honestly when I rewatched Wandavision after watching AAA I really felt seen.

I will never be a parent, it’s something I’ve wanted my whole life but in recent years my partner and I have come to accept that we don’t think we would be able to be the parents what we would want to be and that a child deserves due to our combination of disabilities.

This hurts like hell. I was somewhat numb to it for a year or two but then last year we learned that a friend who we used to be very close to and who had been told she might never have children, was pregnant. This destroyed me in a way I hadn’t expected it to and it continues to destroy me in a lot of ways. One of the things I hate most is an unbelievable jealousy.

I am not a jealous person- yes I’ve had moments but generally I am happy for people. The jealousy I have every time I see this friend’s family and other friends share photos of them spending time with the baby my thoughts are unreasonable.

Through this, watching another person you know (or relate to in Agatha’s case) live the life you wanted, you craved, and have it come to them so easily when you have suffered so much pain to not even have the outcome you needed, I felt a huge connection to Agatha.

I have not lost a child, no, but I have lost the possibility of being a parent and although it isn’t the same pain it is incredibly intense and hard to live with.

Agatha needs Wanda to be the bad guy, needs her to suffer because Wanda got the things she wanted, and if there was such a thing as deserving a happy ending then Agatha doesn’t see why her and Wanda deserved different things. They both had traumatic childhoods, they both turned to darkness to cope -Wanda to Hydra, Agatha to killing witches and dark magic - but Wanda, in a way, was rewarded for that. Wanda got adopted by the avengers, she got a new home, a purpose, a chance to be loved.

Agatha got her chance to be loved for the first time by Death. How cruel and ironic and filled with metaphor about unloved children is that? And even then, in a life of around 360 years, Agatha maybe got 50 years of happiness before it all fell apart.

Wanda experienced loss, but she was supported and comforted and then on top of that she got her children, her ‘spontaneous creation of life’ - just like she had with Rio, except Wanda’s boys got to live.

Agatha hates Wanda in a few ways, feels so much warmth towards her in others, but I think a lot of the hate, the anger is a case of ‘why do you get to be happy?’

On bad days, days when I’m really heavily reminded of my own life situation, without going into too many details I can say that I have wanted to say this to so many people. I think it’s a valid response when you have had disabilities, illnesses and conditions, mental health and your own sexuality hold you back so often.

When you look at the happy family your friend has and it makes you feel sick because you feel so many emotions, and in ways you never thought you were even capable of.

WANDAVISION DEEP DIVE part 3

(Wandavision entries: part [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

We left Agatha killing her coven in a flashback (but sparing their children). Back to present Agatha, and what is she doing? Pretending to talk to her rabbit. Look, she might be a dedicated con artist, but she can only come up with very cheesy characters, what can you do?

Is she meeting the real you, Agatha, are you sure?

oh she's so intrigued

She's about to be very very cruel, and there's a lot to unpack here. To her torture is a mean to an end, but there's also rage, jealousy, bitterness, so much bitterness there. She hates witches, and she hates Wanda. She also can't help sympathizing with Wanda, the parallels between the two of them are obvious. There are always so many contradicting emotions in Agatha.

Like, the way she's been teaching her about magic. She's taunting her, she's showing off. But once upon a time she was a clueless young witch denied knowledge from her elders. And now that Wanda is in that position, she could teach her. She almost wants to. She is curious, she loves learning, finding out how things work, and in other, better universes she is a teacher.

*angrily shakes a bird at Wanda*

LOOK WHO'S TALKING, OH MY GOD. But honestly though, that's why she can't help sympathizing. They are the same.

And she is a biiiiiit in lust too tbh. Not her fault she has a high libido. Agatha is having a DAY.

A good rule of thumb is, the more Agatha jokes, the more she's uncomfortable with a situation, the fact that she's making fun of a little boy tells you right away that she doesn't mean it. Sarcasm is her defense skill. She was barely able to contain her rage a moment ago, she is not as calm as she appears. And she doesn't like having to sit through Wanda's trauma one bit, both because she's sorry for Wanda and because she doesn't want to witness that pain herself. She had hoped to crack Wanda without having to do this, but she won't step down now, she won't relent.

that's a whole lesbian, dear god. thank you costume and hair departments and thank you kathryn hahn.

my theory is that detective Agnes of Westview was clearly created by Agatha herself rather than Wanda and speaks about her grim personality and eagerness to solve mysteries, but we'll get to that later

that's interesting, she smiles at Wanda, looks worried at the door for a second, then smiles at Wanda again. play acting or real concern? Wanda wasn't looking at her face in that moment.

her body language is something between intrigued and defensive

NOT THIS BITCH DRYING HER EYES AGAIN AT THE "WHAT IS GRIEF BUT LOVE PERSEVERING" SPEECH.

You know what though, for Agatha to know exactly what buttons to push to break Wanda, she'd need to have a deep understanding of how trauma and grief work. Which means she knows the way she blames Rio and hangs up on Nicky's memory is not healthy, but she is unwilling or unable to make an effort towards healing. Not that you can ever completely heal from something like that tbh, but she knows the way she's acting is making things worse.

The slow clap, she's such a cheesy villain. That (gay) way she sits though, she wants both to project strength and to shield her body, she is nervous. She's now 100% sure that Wanda is the Scarlet Witch. Time for her last gamble.

Knowing Agatha as we know her now, it's easy to see she's wearing her best witchy costume to put on the ultimate show. She made Wanda cry to get at her secrets, now it's time to make her angry. She could just have provoked her in the first place, but like I said she's at her core a coward detective and scholar and yearns to learn stuff. I really do believe that Billy and Tommy weren't in any actual danger here and it looks worse than it is. On the other hand, she is absolutely scaring them shitless, but like with Sparky she chooses to ignore their mental well-being if it gets her what she wants. She's not physically hurting them so that's fine, right? And, well, she did the same with Nicky. She loved him so desperately and also selfishly kept him isolated and kept killing in his name. There's a reason why she feels so guilty and can't face him now.

The parallels, tho. The episode starting with Evanora calling her a monster, and ending with her calling Wanda a monster.

Last episode!!!!

telling the kids to take cover as soon as she can get away with it. Wanted to hurt them my ass.

Pathetic! Are you even a real witch? Yep, her usual bit. And especially harsh too. Agatha is gambling a LOT here.

"The Scarlet Witch is not born, she is forged. She has no power, no need for incantation." Agatha was forged the same way, with pain and hellfire, does that give her a claim to Wanda's magic? (Also, power of mother earth on the poster behind? How very green witch!)

How hard and deliberately Agatha is working to traumatize Wanda even further, to make her believe she's a monster. And Agatha is in such an unique position to understand what Wanda is going through, what it means to be called evil for something you are and not for something you do. She knows what it means not being able to control your powers, Wanda never meant to hurt any of these people! She could teach her, offer her community and support. But what does Agatha do instead? Exactly what her mother did to her.

She wants to kill her to take her powers, and she wants to kill her because she's afraid of her. And yet she's also looking in a mirror. Doesn't her neck thingy look like a clergy collar too? She's on the other side of inquisition now.

have you ever read Passing by Nella Larsen? it made me think a lot about how marginalized communities isolate their most vulnerable members and recreate the dynamics of the oppressor, as a way to keep some form of control and also to express their trauma and anger. Wanda didn't do anything to Agatha, but she's the perfect target for Agatha to vent all her pain and anger and frustration.

Wanda tries to copy Agatha and make her relive her traumas, not a good idea trying to manipulate the master manipulator. Agatha has studied and observed and knows a lot about Wanda and that is why her manipulation is so effective, Wanda doesn't know Agatha at all, she's only heard lies so far. Here for example she assumes that Agatha killed the Salemites on purpose, she has no clue that their situations are so similar.

I told you that witches wouldn't accept you, that they would call you a monster and come after you. So much bitterness. That's Agatha's tragedy, and that is what's behind all her selfishness, killing witches, keeping Nicky isolated, torturing Wanda. Passing her trauma along. As much as she chose to be what she currently is... choosing the opposite would have been much easier if she had a community cherishing and teaching her. Just look at how much having an actual loving coven, even for a short time, will make a difference in the future.

and then Wanda wins not because she's more powerful but because Agatha couldn't stop herself from blabbing and showing off and teaching about runes. oh, the irony

what WANDA'S done???? Agatha, you've been poking a nexus being with a stick for days, you useless fuckup (affectionate)

lmaooo she fell ass up

LOOK WHO'S TALKING

Agatha under the spell immediately flirting with Wanda is maybe top five most hilarious things she's ever done

and that's a wrap! Ballad of the witches road here I come!

go to AAA part 1

[worrynoodle]

🥧🍻Contains spoilers for Supernatural ending🍻🥧

I take what I said about the ending back. I've been rewatching and I agree that it wasn't right.

Throughout the entire series, we consistently see Sam and Dean encounter other hunters who usually represent two paths. In this life, you die or go insane ("You either die a hero or you live long enough to become a villain" -The Dark Knight). And of the two options, Sam and Dean seem to have decided that dying is at least better than potentially hurting someone. Neither of them actually believe that because they keep bringing each other back.

But this post is mostly about Dean's ending - death, in the line of duty, by rusty rebar.

During my first watchthrough, I could see - very surface level - that yeah, sure, Dean would want to die that way. Going out saving people, Sammy at his side.

But almost every other time (if not every time) Dean is faced with his own death, he decides he doesn't actually want that. He feels he must. He dies so others can live, that's his job, it's expected. But he would live if he could. When he made the demon deal to get Sam back, he confronts his nightmare self and says he doesn't want to die. He doesn't deserve to die. With the mark of Cain, in the confession booth he tells the priest that he knows he doesn't want to die and that he wants to live and experience life differently.

Dean wants to break away from the expectation that hunters die. Maybe he can't have a "normal" life. But he wants something other than what's expected of him. What God expected of him.

This was supposed to be Team Free Will. This was supposed to be about breaking away from God's Plan. Not dying like the little soldier daddy raised him to be but to become more than that. Break away from the narrative.

In the end, though, Dean is forced to have the death that everyone else planned for him. The self-sacrificing version of himself, other hunters, his dad, God. All the people we as the audience wanted Dean to be free of, to live in spite of - he dies like daddy's blunt little instrument. Cas sacrificed himself to the empty, finding peace in the face of never seeing the love of his existence again, in the face of literal eternal nothingness so that Dean could live and be more than [Dean] thought he could be. He was happy to sacrifice his happiness for Dean's. Just for Dean's life to be cut short the same way Cas died to avoid. (Death because of the work. Death like a soldier in battle.)

All of the times Dean and Sam (and Cas) die and come back to life, all of the people they find who live happily, the family they find together, the love they find, defeating literal God - it all felt like it was building to something more substantial. That they BOTH (*) were going to get something more than they expected - or, rather, resigned themselves to.

And on Sam's end - throughout the show, they show us, surface level and parallel to deans death, that him living a "normal" life without dean is what is expected. He left the life. He left Dad and Dean, went to college, had goals and aspirations, and had a serious girlfriend. His life was laid out for him. Just like death was laid out for Dean. But when push comes to shove, Sam doesn't want to live without Dean. Even when Sam thinks he can do it, like when Dean goes to purgatory, he comes the moment Dean calls and gets back into the life. When Dean dies from the mark, he says so. He was wrong, and he'll do anything to get Dean back. Everybody asks him why he would ever come back when was almost out and he tells them that he actually loves this life. That now he isn't forced into it but chooses it. He doesn't want a life without his brother in it. And that is what he was doomed to suffer. By the end of the series, I don't think Sam would have just let go like that.

Chuck said one brother had to kill the other. In other words, one lives, one dies. And that's what happened.

*I wasnt going to but now I am. Let's talk about Cas too! Through the show Cas dies again and again and again. God hates the disobedient angel with a crack in his chassis who fell in love with a man. God kills him. God wants him out of the picture but he won't go. He can't go. The story falls apart without him in it. Dean falls apart without him. But somehow his death is considered a good ending for him (good story telling wise, externally)? That confessing his love was enough? That dying in place of Dean was where he wanted to be? Sure, he was happy but it came at the price of that very happiness. It was had and taken in a moment. He was destined to die by God and that's what happened. (And we are supposed to believe that Dean just... lives on, cuddlin his dog and eatin' pie like he's not wrecked? That every other time Cas dies he falls apart but this time when Cas dies, they defeat God and true happiness is supposedly possible now - Dean would just give up? That he wouldn't try to get him back? Especially after a love confession? That just doesn't make sense to me.

My theory is that there's more to the ending than we know. That they did intentionally wrap it up there, that you can take it or leave it. But it leaves you wanting, leaves just enough questions unanswered that if they were to do a revival there's things they can do with the story.

Tl:dr: for a show about breaking away from the narrative, choosing free will, and not being held back by expectations, the ending really didn't fit well and let us down. IN MY PERSONAL OPINION

[mothlau]

hello, for the kink meme, could i humbly ask you for leztappen and watersports/piss kink please? (and, if possible, with little to no desperation/humiliation?)

also, i wish you a happy new year, may it be filled with joy and good things for you!

hiii beloved!!! this one got out of control and also I hope it has enough humiliation. I tried to tone it down but honestly, it's piss play, you need the humiliation. anyway, happy new year to you too! 10 days too late but oh well! enjoy the piss play, puppy play, daddy kink and gp!max combo friends:3 (kink meme here)

6451 words :3

Most of their friends assume that it's Charles who's wrapped around Max’s finger. That she cannot say no to Max no matter how extravagant the demand may be, that whatever Max says or wants is final. To an extent, they're right. After all, she’s the femme, and according to people’s heteronormative minds, the one who is more feminine in the relationship is the one who cares more, who’s more attentive. 

Charles is wrapped around Max’s finger. But just as much, Max is whipped for Charles. If someone were to compare the amount of fondness they have for each other, people will quickly realize that it's not Charles who's wrapped around a little finger 24/7. 

It's Max. 

Max cannot deny Charles’ wishes; Max bends the whole world to give her lover the happiness she deserves. It's Max who spends nights upon nights to plan perfect getaways for their anniversaries, it's Max who gave into her wishes and got Charles the Steinway and placed the piano directly in their living room.

And, at the end of the day, it's Max who does everything in her power to make sure Charles enjoys herself. 

Whenever she notices something that Charles may find pleasure in, she stores the information away, making sure to bring it up when they're discussing scenes or new interests that may have sparked. Even with Charles’ overbearing eagerness to try new things with her, she  rarely initiates ideas. 

She's still shy, in spite of the time they've been together. It's endearing to Max, that Charles still blushes bright red when Max takes her bra off, that she’s still a mess when Max slides her hands down her thighs.

The list of things she wants to try is getting long, something that Max doesn't mind, per se. She doesn't, because in the end she can twist Charles into the perfect little puppet for her to toy with. They don't mind, because they’re certain Charles will like whatever they propose to her. 

He's toyed with an idea before, almost put it into action too, but in the end it didn't seem fit to make Charles piss herself without any rules set in stone yet. There's no doubt that the woman won't agree with it, but Max will rather postpone their play than do something that may make Charles even a little bit uncomfortable. 

So, despite her wishes and desires to break Charles, Max keeps everything under wraps. 

Whatever thoughts Charles shares with them during heated sessions and foggy mindsets, Max notes all in their head, safe to be used later on. Where to hit Charles, how to press her buttons theoretically, when to push, when to pull. Every little idea, all of them organised in Max’s brain, nicely and orderly. 

The last thing Charles told them about seemed easy enough when she first uttered her fantasy. Slap Charles’ pussy until she was cumming and begging for mercy. Simple, Max's done worse in her relationships. 

But with Charles, it wasn't as simple. She’s hit her lover before, tied her up and used whatever she fancied to break her, but it was always kept under an invisible, unspoken line. 

In spite of his cruel hands and words, Max can never truly hurt her beloved Charles. As much as it turns Max on, it pains her to cause her harm, even when Charles begs for that torture. Unless she's positive, one hundred percent and then some more, that at the end Charles will be drunk on pleasure. 

It's not unusual for their plays to be hit or miss, but Max prides herself in them being hits most of the time. 

They mention wanting to try new things during a relaxed dinner, when they’re almost sure Charles forgot about the things she's babbled on during a previous scene. And, of course, Charles agrees readily, albeit a bit timid and flushed. 

After that, it's smooth sailing on Max's side, at least. Charles is stuck with anticipation bubbling under her skin and the fear of uncertainty tearing at her conscience. 

To Max, who likes the waiting game, it's beautiful. To Charles, who is used to getting whatever she desires with minimum effort, it's hell. 

Every other day he makes Charles drink more than she can usually handle, slowly but surely trying to train the woman into holding her piss longer and longer. Most days it's a hassle which ends up with Charles whining and rushing to the bathroom, Max not bothering to stop her. But then there are some days, rare and in between, when Charles manages to go hours upon hours without running from Max's hold. 

The praise Charles gets also helps her, no matter how much she's trying to deny the humiliating claims. 

Almost a week later, Charles pushes a full bottle of water into Max's hands, making her look away from the laptop. Max doesn't need any clarification as to why she does this, nor does he need any pleas or guilty looks to nod at Charles' silent request. 

She trusts Max enough for the blonde to gain complete control over her bodily needs. Max can't help but smile fondly at it as they let the bottle rest on their thigh. Charles sits on the ground, head thrown back on the edge of the couch, minding the poorly balanced laptop. 

"Whenever you're ready," Max whispers, hand reaching out to tug at a few matted strands. Charles simply nods and allows herself to fall, Max's soothing touch being the only thing keeping her afloat. 

It takes Charles only an hour to finish the water, drinking obediently every time Max urges her to. She's even quicker to bring Max another one and one more, all whilst finishing them without any fuss. 

And then, as Max closes his laptop and opens his arms for Charles to crawl into, it only takes a few minutes for Charles' eyes to get cloudy and for her touch to get needier. The sight before her makes Max euphoric, an undeniable call to protect and please the withering woman in her lap. 

"You still with me, darling?" The words are barely above a whisper, but even so they grasp at Charles' conscience and pull her in just enough for the brunette to nod against Max's chest. All pliant and soft in their hands, Max isn't sure whether or not to move their play away from the couch and into their bedroom, where towels and mats lie specifically for what's to happen next. 

"Hurts a bit, Maxie," Charles says, voice all hushed and feeble. The hand resting on Max's bicep tugs and squeezes, a poor attempt for Charles to regain control over herself. 

"Colour, pretty?" 

It takes Charles a moment, already gone and drifting, but soon, she mumbles a simple and clear, "Green." 

"Do you want me to carry you to the bedroom, angel? I don't think we'll like our couch smelling like piss after this." 

Despite how embarrassing the words should be, Max doesn't find them shameful anymore. She’s been fantasising about this for months now, the idea of watching Charles crumble under her orders and hands, her lover losing whatever ounce of self-control she still has and letting it all loose. That's enough for Max to push away any shame that might've been left inside. 

With Charles, it's not the same. The woman’s face flushes a bright red, the color travelling under the collar of her shirt, painting the hidden skin in beautiful hues of reds and pinks. Almost as beautiful as the marks they flush over. 

Almost. 

When there's no answer coming from Charles, Max gets the unspoken message. As always, Charles wants Max to carry her, manhandle her as if she's nothing but a lightweight in Max's hold. Which, undoubtedly, she is. 

With a quick movement, Max stands, gentle hands reaching out to lift Charles with ease. Her perfect little girl whines and squirms, the sudden change already too much for her sensitive state. 

"This ok?" Max asks, voice full of worry. 

Charles can only nod again, words lost somewhere in her head, muddled by thoughts full of desire, lust, animalistic instincts. After the quick answer, Max takes her time getting them to the bedroom, mostly because with each sickeningly slow step she takes out of the living room and down the hallway, Charles becomes that much more responsive to Max's cold touch. 

In preparation for their scene, Charles spread out the puppy mats they’ve gotten, while Max took his time to make sure that nothing of value could be ruined. The pillows were all sitting on the reading nook next to the window, towels have been placed close enough to the bed that Max didn’t have to look around for them and amid the whole mess of colorful cotton and stark white paper, now lies Charles. 

Charles, her perfect girl, who looks up at Max as if she’d hung the stars in the sky and then proceeded to create a whole universe just for Charles. Charles, her lovely girl, who is barely able to hold back tears as Max refuses to touch her just yet. Charles, her divine lover, whose back arches off the puppy mats when Max's knees hit the mattress, wanton moans and whined pleas falling from between bitten lips. 

"Puppy," Max bites back a smile. "Puppy, can you sit up a bit?" They crawl on the bed, remaining above Charles without their knees touching the woman’s sides. "I want you to drink some more, can you?" 

"Yes," Charles breathes out, fingers tightening around the puppy mat underneath. "Yes, daddy. Anything for you, Maxie." 

Max's face fills with love and adoration for the woman writhing beneath. Such a perfect, responsive being, all belonging to Max alone. He couldn't be happier. 

Helping Charles sit up, back leaning on the hardboard, Max reaches for the bottle left on the bedside table. Another thing Charles prepared, in hopes that Max would make her drink it and push her to the edge. 

"You're being so good for me, Charlie. Making me so proud right now." 

"I am?" Charles asks, a look full of hope blooming on her face. 

Max kisses the smile off her face, gentle and careful. "You are. My best girl, perfect little one. That's what you are, Charlie."

"Maxie–" the human whines, pressing her face into their open palms. "Need you." 

Unable to stop herself, Max pushes with her malevolent teasing, a vicious smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “You need me? How? Need me to touch your greedy cunt? Need me to slap it? Want me to press here?” Max's fingers push on the swollen bladder, light enough to simply make Charles cry out. “Or maybe you need me to fuck your dumb hole until you’re pissing all over yourself.” The woman sobs again, nodding along with Max's words mindlessly. “Which one is it, puppy?” 

“Yes,” she answers, muffled by her own hand.

“Dumb puppy,” Max smiles, feeling his chest overflow with butterflies and flowers. “Let’s finish the water first, then I’ll decide what you deserve.”

The silence that fills the room feels deafening as Max watches Charles. She is struggling to twist the cap off, fingers white with how hard she’s gripping the bottle. Max makes no move to help her, smirk still plastered on their face, eyes ranking up and down Charles' shaking body as she gets more and more annoyed. 

She lets out an exasperated whine, head hitting the wood behind him, “Max.”

“Yes, pup?”

Suddenly she has a handful of plastic to deal with, all while Charles stares at her with the same hurt expression she abuses whenever Max refuses to immediately give in. He can’t say no to her, no matter how much he’d like to watch her struggle some more. One simple twist later, the warmed liquid spills onto Charles shorts, seeping into the cotton and making Charles tremble.

Without uttering a word, Max grabs Charles face, fingers digging into the woman’s flushed cheeks to hold her mouth open. Charles tongue lolls out, expecting Max to spit on top of it, to push their finger past her lips and fuck her mouth ruthlessly. 

From her place above Charles, Max laughs. Her weight falls atop of Charles thighs, sweatpants clinging to her legs, making the restrictive touch feel worse. If he could, he’d take the pants off in an instant, but right now Max has to focus on Charles and Charles alone. 

Pink lips attempt to close around Max's fleeting forefinger, but the force Max has stops Charles before she can even whine. The water bottle feels heavy in her hand, and though it would feel rewarding to dump it over Charles' head, humiliate her further, Max knows that what’s to happen next will be even sweeter. 

“Charles,” she says, tone icy cold. Max sees her lover swallow, fear budding in her eyes. “Tilt your head back for me, mutt.”

That’s all the woman needs. Eyes fall shut, mouth slips open with little resistance and her head falls back. Max's hand still resides on top of Charles’ cheeks. She can’t stop herself from moving it lower, enticed with the beauty presented so effortlessly in front of her. It rests on the column of his neck, barely touching the trashed skin. 

Underneath him, shudders run down Charles’ spine, lips agape in a soundless moan. They’ve never seen something as beautiful before, not once in their lifetime have they witnessed such perfection falling apart mere centimeters away from them. 

Bright red spreads down Charles neck, skin hot beneath Max's hold. The woman’s cheeks, dusted scarlet and covered by a thin layer of sweat, invite Max to press kisses on the crimson expanse of her face. A promise of being able to do so after he breaks Charles consoles Max's urge to revere the angel. Her pretty girl shifts under her touch, eyes opening slightly to see why Max is not painting her skin in hues of purple and red. 

“Daddy…” Charles sounds wrecked already. “Why aren’t you touching me?”

“I am, silly,” Max answers simply, hand tightening around the brunette’s neck. “See?”

A pathetic whine rips through Charles sobs, fingers closing around Max’s wrist. It is so unbelievably easy to toy with Charles’ feelings, to push her buttons until she’s begging like a mindless, broken mutt. Max loves it, almost as much as she loves the gentleness that engulfs them after. 

“Let’s drink the water and then I promise to touch you however you wish.” His thumb presses in the neck juncture, eliciting a pitiful moan from his beautiful lover. “Colour, Charlie? You still with me?”

“Green, daddy,” Charles breathes out, her hold on Max's wrist relaxing. “Please, Maxie… Please ruin me. Need-- Need it s’ bad, baby. S’te plait”

Something about the slurred speech, the glazed look in Charles’ eyes when she pins Max under a lustful glance, the slight tremble in Charles’ hands and shoulders stops Max from pulling the woman’s head back. He’s never had Charles this far gone before they even started. Part of them wants to stop, pull their lover out and make sure she’s alright and coherent enough to know what’s happening to her. 

Reluctantly, she lets go of Charles, scooting back enough to loom over her while still presenting a form of comfort for her shaking lover. 

“Charlie, I need you to check in one more time. Can you do that for me, please?”

“‘M green, Maxie. Promise.”

The look that Charles fixes Max with is one of pure lust, undeniable desire burning hot in molten emerald. It sets Max back a few steps, a carnal desire spreading in her blood, wrapping around each and every organ inside of her. It tugs painfully at the ravenous wish to destroy Charles. 

Holding back those sinful impulses, Max leans back in, hand on Charles shoulder as she carefully presses a kiss on the woman’s nose. Soft and gentle, exactly the opposite of what Charles asked for. 

Charles mewls, fingers tightening around the material of Max's shirt. “Max. Fucking fuck me, you idiot.”

He moves without thinking, the ear splitting sound of a slap resonating in the room. “Impatient mutt, you have to wait for what you want or else I’ll leave you. Do you want to be here alone, without my help or permission to touch your pathetic pussy?”

“No!” Charles all but cries, thrashing under Max's weight. “‘M sorry, daddy, didn’t mean to be rude. Please don’t leave me.” 

The tears streaming down Charles’ cheeks ignite the fire further. Their body feels aflame, possessiveness spiraling inside their chest. Max is the only one who can make Charles cry like this, the only one who can light her body a bright vermillion with few and in between touches and stares. He is the only one who will never leave Charles, not in a time of need, not in a time of sickness. 

Never. 

“I’d never leave you, darling,” Max reminds her, voice dripping in honey. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.” 

“Forever?” Charles asks, gaze shy, yet hopeful. 

“Forever,” Max easily agrees, sealing the deal with a short lived kiss. 

The tenderness is just as short lived, mean fingers wrapping around Charles locks and finally, finally pulling her head back. The woman’s lips fall open as she swallows dryly at what’s to come. 

Max wishes she could capture the work of art unraveling in front of her, keep it forever with her, tucked into her phone for her to enjoy when apart from her lover. Shaking her head, Max pushes those thoughts aside. 

“I’m going to make you drink all of this water, Charlie. Gonna make you drown on it until you’re sobbing and pissing all over yourself, understood?” Her voice leaves no room for argument and Charles can sense the strictness. She nods, attempts to despite the hand holding her head still. 

Not a single breath escapes Max while he pours the water past Charles parted lips. Mesmerized, he watches the woman struggle to swallow, her Adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp she manages to take. Tears fall from her closed eyes, breathing becomes more erratic. Still, Max doesn’t stop pouring. Not when water leaks down the sides of Charles face and onto the mats, not when Charles closes her mouth to calm herself, the two simple taps the woman places on his bicep fueling Max's sadism. 

The last few drops fall on top of her closed lips, running down heated skin with ease. Flushed skin seems to make the water evaporate, heating it up and leaving Charles hot and bothered before Max. Her eyes, though shut tight, twitch with every momentary touch. 

What a sight Max made of Charles. What a beautiful masterpiece he had created, all for himself to marvel at. This angel, this holy being that’s at Max's mercy is the embodiment of deadly sins. Lust and gluttony and pride and greed, all paint the insides of Max's chest in shades of green and bleeding red. 

Hypnotized, Max stares. 

She is so in love with this woman, so in love that no one could understand her devotion. No other can compare to Charles, no other can even come close to how dear Max holds this woman.

A whimpered whisper of his name breaks him out of his day dreaming. Their eyes focus on Charles’ face, red and blotchy with dried tears, trails of water and saliva going down her chin. She’s splendid, perfect in each and every way imaginable. She’s more than Max deserves, more than what she could’ve asked for. 

In any way, shape and form, Charles is her God, her angel and muse. 

“Max, please.” And despite not knowing what Charles is begging for, what she’s holding onto Max for, he cannot deny her precious love. When she’s pleading and sobbing for Max's touch, she’d have to be mad to ignore such saccharine requests. 

“Yes, my love, I know. You want me to touch you and make you cum. Your greediness never fails to impress me,” she sighs mournfully, putting on an act to rile her pretty girl up even more. “Say, you think you deserve to cum? You really think you’ve been good?”

“Yes!” Charles sobs, digging her fingernails into Max's shoulders. “I’ve been s’ good for you, daddy! Drank everything and-- and held my piss like a good girl.” She’s crying again, choking on her own sobs and spit. It’s a pitiful image, but Max relishes in the loud weeps. 

Charles is just so bewitching when she’s reduced to nothing but a sobbing mess. 

Max hums, deep in thought as she pretends to weigh the limited options she has. They don’t want to tease Charles for much longer, doubts they even can do it without giving themself blue balls, but God, they want to. Briefly, she thinks back to the list of things she’d planned out to do with Charles today and suddenly she doesn’t care about teasing Charles. She’d rather overstimulate her until she’s blabbering nonsense and shaking. 

“Colour?” 

Charles frowns at him, pout tugging at her lips. “Green,” she mumbles, chin tucked into her chest. “Please, daddy. It hurts!”

“Oh?” Max quirks her eyebrow, smirking down at the corrupted little thing. “Where does it hurt, baby girl?”

Her hand flies from Max's shoulder, resting gently above her own bladder, careful as to not press on it. Max can’t have this. Without much care, she moves Charles hand aside, pressing her thumb into the woman’s swollen abdomen. 

Charles’ sobs rip through her body, writhing as she tries to get away from the pressure Max is putting on her. In one swift move, she pulls her lover down, shirt riding up along with the mats. He moves from his place atop Charles’ thighs, momentarily sitting on the mattress while observing her. 

Without the weight on top of her, Charles lifts his head, confused and dazzled. She spots Max quickly, and without much thought she gives Max her best puppy eyes, bottom lip jutted out to effectively pull on Max's heartstrings. 

“Daddy, please come back and touch me,” her girl demands, face smushed into the pillow. “Wanna cum, please.”

Gods, Max will never tire of hearing her beg. 

He doesn’t utter a single sound while maneuvering Charles to sit between her legs. Doesn’t sprinkle any mean comments in when Charles wraps them around Max's waist, ankles crossed behind her back to hold Max close. Even when Charles buries her face deeper into the pillow, Max doesn’t say a word. 

They’re observing, committing every detail unfolding in front of them to memory, tucking away the pictures for later. 

Charles whimpers into the cotton covers, holding back another sob. “Hurts, daddy.”

“Does it?” Max asks. Her fingers itch to touch, to claim what’s hers with dark bruises in the form of Max's palms. “Should I make the pain go away, puppy?” The woman nods minutely. Had Max not been paying attention, he might’ve missed it. “Alright, darling. I’m gonna take your shorts off now, ok?” Another easy to miss nod. “Can you check in with me real fast, angel?”

“You can take them off, daddy. I’m green, j’st really hurts. Wan’ cum but it’s too much.”

As soon as the shorts and soiled panties are off, Max holds Charles’ foot gently, bringing it to his lips. She presses a single kiss in the middle of her sole, making the woman giggle despite the discomfort she is in. It brings a smile on Max's face, hearing her pretty girl laugh like this, all shy and soft. Charles covers her face, hands hiding the beautiful blush Max's put on her cheeks. 

Still, she can’t hide her pretty pussy, bruising red and leaking down her thighs, making for the most unholy view, nor can she conceal the flush on his neck, going under the shirt and coming back on her hips and thighs. Charles blushes beautifully, Max has come to know. Her whole body turns the loveliest shade of red, from the tips of her ears when Max leans in to whisper sweet I love you’s in public, to her thighs, burning red under Max's ministrations. 

It’s truly and absolutely fascinating, to say the least. 

“How do you want this, Charlie? On your back or on your stomach?”

“Back,” Charles answers eagerly. 

Max chuckles darkly, amused by the woman’s enthusiasm to piss all over herself. “Well, pup, go ahead. Wet yourself like the dumb mutt you are.” 

It’s an interesting progression, what happens next. Charles’ eyes shut tight, a deep frown creasing her forehead. She’s silent, panting while she struggles to let go. Under Max's loving gaze, Charles breaks. Frustrated sobs wreck through her, fists balling into the mats. The image is enough to make possessiveness spark underneath Max's skin, igniting their desires to keep these moments safe and away from anyone else. To keep Charles to themself. 

“Max, I can’t.” 

In a way, Max understands her pain and frustrations. She can imagine how hard it must be to let go, how humiliating the idea of pissing herself must be for Charles. Worry seeps into her bones again. 

“What can’t you do, angel?”

“I can’t--” Charles cuts herself off with a loud mewl. “Can’t go, daddy!”

“Can’t?” The fingers rubbing soothing circles on Charles' ankle ghost over her leg, moving to her hip, touch cold and brief, before stopping on the woman’s abdomen. “Or won’t?” The press is just a brief, a green ticket for Charles to call it quits in case she changes her mind. 

She doesn’t. 

“Can’t, daddy! It’s too ‘mbarrassing,” she mumbles into her hands, hiding behind them as a form of faux-comfort. “Help, Maxie…” The hushed and broken tone makes Max blink at his lover. 

Realization floods him. “Oh, you’re such a naughty thing, love,” he says with a laugh. Her previous gentleness is gone, thumb pressing roughly into Charles bladder, making the woman squirm in discomfort and pain. “Needing me to make you piss,” Max tuts, shaking her head at the crying beauty laid before her. “Naughty, messy little one. You never fail to impress me.”

Back arching off the mattress, Charles thrusts her hips in the air, oh so close to Max, yet so far away. She humps the air, ivory teeth biting the back of her hand, canines digging into tanned skin without an ounce of self-control. And yet, she’s still not letting go. 

It’s a wonder, how she’s managed to keep it in for so long, despite Max's continuous teasing. It makes Max just that more hungry, craving to see Charles come apart at his hand. 

“Daddy--” Charles stutters, the frown on her face only deepening with each second in which Max tortures her slowly. “Can’t do it, Maxie. Need your hand on my clit, daddy! Hurts too much!” She sounds so completely and utterly broken, so distressed and in this moment, Max swears she’s never been more in love with the sounds someone makes, let alone with the person letting them out. 

“Since you’ve asked so nicely,” she agrees without a fuss, right hand moving between Charles’ thighs, finger pressing into her swollen clit, squeezing it harshly to draw out more needy noises from Charles. 

“Thank you, thank--” Charles whines loudly, teeth pulling at her fingers, bitemarks imprinted on them. Desperate sounds bleeding into the room plague Max's mind. “I’m gonna--”

But Charles doesn’t get to finish her warning. With Max's hand moving faster and faster over Charles’ clit, she finally comes undone. Her whole body goes rigid, before relaxing into the sheets as a hot stream of piss leaks down her thighs, soaking the sheets, the mats, Max’s sweatpants, everything. 

Max didn’t know what to expect when he was planning this. Piss, surely; a mess, of course. But she didn’t expect for it to be so… enticing. The idea of Charles pissing herself did fascinate her, but she never thought it will be this hot. Watching Charles break turns her on more than she’d like to admit; it’s maddening, intoxicating. 

The stream doesn’t seem to be ending, liquid glistening atop Charles skin, seeping into his shirt, the mats absorbing as much as they can. Max is surprised that not much gets on his own clothes, only his knees wet with how he’s standing on the bed, the shirt he’s wearing remaining dry, safe for the edges pooling around his waist. 

She’s impossibly hard in her sweats and the sinfully erotic image of Charles panting, eyes shut tight, pussy spasming and leaking, piss drenching her clothes and the bed she’s resting on… It takes everything out of her to not devour the woman, but despite her best efforts she can’t stop her fingers from twitching with need, moving from Charles abdomen down her thigh, squeezing the fat with brute force. 

“Charles,” Max breathes out, voice strained. “Can I fuck your thighs?”

Charles legs tighten around her waist, hands gripping at Max's forearms. They’re bound to be bruised the next day, but neither care. Max loves being marked and purple just as much as she adores putting them across Charles' perfect body. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Charles chants, head thrown back in pure bliss. “Please touch me, daddy. Wanna cum now, daddy.”

Laughing to herself, Max reaches into their bedside table for the lube, fingers still massaging and squeezing at Charles thighs. “What, pissing yourself wasn’t enough to make you cum?” There’s no time to wait for the woman’s response. Max needs to cum just as badly as her sweet girl. 

The pretty blush spreading across Charles' body stops them for just a moment. A moment they uses to gawk at Charles, put some more images away in their head for later. She’s gorgeous. Thoroughly and unconditionally so. 

And Max, Max whose heart beats faster each time she steals a glance at her beautiful girl, Max whose stomach fills with butterflies and whose organs are wrapped in flowers and crystals and vines so thick they're making it hard to breathe, Max who cannot do anything but fall deeper in love with Charles, falls. She falls again and again, until she’s bruised and her knees are bleeding, yet she cannot stop. She wants this perfect woman, her perfect girl forever. Wants to fall for her more and more as their bones grow weak and the soil reclaims what belongs to it. 

The lube is cold when it hits Charles’ thighs, if the hiss she lets out is any form of indication of it. Not even the hotness that Charles emanates is enough to warm it up while Max sheds her sweatpants, cock springing free. He’s redder than Charles, untouched and begging to be buried in between Charles thighs. They’re both silent as Max guides Charles to squeeze her legs together, feet thrown over Max's shoulder to make it easier for her. 

Soft moans fill the room, Charles saccharine noises coating Max's dazed mind with a thick fog. Charles is a fuel, a fuel for unprompted decisions leading to handprints bruised on a tanned neck and fingerprints atop wide hips. Charles burns her, her touch burns deep into Max's skin, melting hardened walls with ease. It feels like she's boiling alive, underneath her skin. 

All because of Charles. 

His cock aches as he pushes its head past Charles' thighs. The press is astonishingly tight, so much so that Max feels the air being knocked from her lungs the more she pushes. God, she loves Charles’ thighs; she cannot get enough of feeling them around her, squeezing her, pulling her cock farther in. They want them wrapped around their head, their waist, their cock. Everywhere. 

“Angel,” Max moans, grip on Charles hips more secure with each shallow thrust. “You feel so good around me, angel. Your thighs were made to be fucked.” As an answer, Charles whimpers, biting on her bottom lip to keep the loudest noises away. “Made entirely for me to use, isn’t that right--” Max prides herself for the amount of self-restraint she has, but once she’s touching Charles, it all dissipates. 

“Yours, daddy. Only belong to you,” the woman agrees mindlessly. 

The drag across hot skin is rough, even with the amounts of lube and piss still on Charles legs. It’s mind numbing, uncomfortable enough to make Max hiss in pleasure as he increases the speed minutely. 

Charles' eyes are glued to her own legs, watching Max's cock poke out between them hungrily. If Max didn’t know any better she’d even say she’s salivating, mouth slightly open, tongue sticking out. But she’s not, because in moments like this, when Charles gets so focused on something that she doesn’t even blink, it’s almost like all her bodily functions shut down. All but her ability to stare and burn each detail into her retina. 

“You like watching your thighs swallow me whole, baby girl?" Max asks with a soft chuckle. “You have no idea how good you feel, love,” his words get stuck in his throat, another frail whine escaping Max. 

“Want you to touch me, daddy,” Charles whispers into thick air. It takes Max a moment to realize she’s spoken and then another one to take in what Charles said, but once she does her hand immediately moves to rest against Charles' clit. 

He doesn’t move it yet, waiting for Charles to break once again and beg for Max to make her cum. The thrusts don’t slow down, each one pulling Max closer to the edge. Volatile reds bloom across Charles' body, tainting Max's pale skin in its progress. She’d rather have the woman’s teeth stain her ruby and violet instead, but this will do. 

The sight of her beautiful lover alone can make Max cum. Seeing her so transfixed on the part where her cock peeks out, eyes glazed with want and lust only adds to the carnal effect she has on Max. 

Max is close, thrusts coming to a halt every time her navel touches the back of Charles’ thighs. He’s close and Charles is surprisingly quiet, yet just as spellbound. Without hrt own accord, Max's fingers rub over the woman’s clit, drawing out a series of rich whines and sobs, each more delicious than the other. 

She swallows them all with a hungry, starved kiss. 

In a flurry of chasing their own orgasm, Max's hand begins moving faster over Charles, sweet noises escaping the woman with each thrust and every press. The position is uncomfortable, Max's neck hurting as she leans down to press kisses on Charles face. She doubts the way Charles is folded is any better, but her lover’s only complaints are about needing to cum faster and harder. 

“Max, Maxie--” Charles chokes on her own spit. “Can I cum? Please, let me, daddy!” She’s sobbing again, beautifully so. Face red, with streaks of tears upon streaks of tears, saliva dripping down the corners of her mouth. 

Max almost doesn’t manage to give her permission, voice dying in her throat before she can get the words out on the first try. Their movements get that more clumsy with every pull back, the hand on Charles’ pussy stopping its strokes for a brief moment.  “Yes, sweetheart,” she says after her hips still enough for Max to recompose herself. 

That is all Charles needs. The granted permission, the grazing kissing Max continues to press all over her face, the hand that resumes its fast paced stroking. All of them tilt Charles over and with a single, loud keen, she cums all over Max's hand. 

Max isn't far behind. The woman brings her legs closer, impossibly tight, wishing to have Max's cum mix with hers. Max can barely breathe, air coming out in short puffs as he struggles to keep himself above Charles, lest he wants to collapse on top of his lovely girl. 

Charles' thighs are Heavenly around him. 

"Maxie," Charles moans, a quiet sob coming out of her. "Cum for me." 

With a whimper, Max goes still, spilling all over Charles' perfect thighs. The room is silent, safe for their heavy breathing and occasional whine Charles lets out. 

Blissful afterglow seeps into Charles' features, red bleeding out and leaving only coral pink behind. She's breathtaking, basking in her own orgasm, eyes closed and head tilted back. She's breathtaking, thighs still shaking around Max, hands letting go, without meaning to, of Max's arms.

Max's hand pulls away, moving up towards the woman’s mouth. The cum is already drying on her fingers, but that doesn't stop her from pushing two of them past Charles lips, watching with so much love as she sucks them into her mouth without a single complaint. 

God, Max just keeps on falling. 

"You're so pretty, Charlie. Been so good for me today," Max's tone is quieter, scared of breaking the moment they've created. Charles stays silent, only smiling up at her lover, completely blissed out with the fingers slowly pushing in and out of her mouth, resting on the brunette’s tongue every now and again. 

“Thanks, mate,” she whispers around Max's fingers. 

Max stops altogether, a stunned expression on his face. “Did you… just call me mate after I made you piss yourself and fucked your thighs?”

The smile Charles offers him is so stupidly endearing that Max can’t even find it in her to be upset by the absurdity of it all. 

“Alright, pretty girl, let’s get you in the shower. You reek of piss and I’m too tired to do anything else tonight,” Max says with a soft laugh. Her fingers leave Charles mouth, and though the whine the woman gives her does tug at her heartstrings, Max doesn’t give in. Charles can always fall asleep sucking on their fingers if she really does want that, but right now they’d rather take a long, hot shower and not think about the smell seeping into their mattress. 

“You have to carry me, though,” Charles informs him, matter of factly. 

Max scoffs, but nonetheless she stands and picks the woman up, throwing her over her shoulder. “I always carry you, idiot.”

“Yes, because it turns you on that you can manhandle me,” Charles scoffs back. “I’ll blow you in the morning if you wash my hair.”

Max sighs. “Fine,” she agrees, not bothering to tell Charles that she would’ve taken care of that without the promise of a blowjob. Charles doesn’t need her ego inflated any more than it already is. “It better be the best blowjob of my life, though.”

“Oh, you’ll love it, mon chou,” Charles laughs. 

Max doesn’t doubt it, but it’s nice to play the role sometimes. 

After all, Charles still hasn’t caught up on the fact that Max is so in love with her she’d give up everything to make her happy.

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Sunshine in His Shadows

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: When Bucky withdraws into himself one night, you’re determined to remind him that his past doesn't define him and he doesn’t have to carry his burdens alone.

Word Count: Roughly 1.8k

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, light angst, mentions of his trauma and anxiety

Author’s Note: You can never go wrong with fluff and a bit of angst. And, I already have an idea for a lighthearted part 2 

Also, I added a taglist form!

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Divider by: @strangergraphics 

The compound was quiet at night, except for the occasional creak of floorboards as you wandered the halls. You found Bucky sitting alone in the kitchen. His was tense; you could tell by how his metal hand clenched into a fist as if he were holding something invisible but heavy. 

You hesitated at the doorway, unsure whether to intrude. But you didn’t want him to feel alone, not when you could at least offer warmth.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping closer. “You didn’t go out either, huh?”

Bucky glanced at you briefly, his blue eyes shadowed by something deeper than being tired. He didn’t respond; he just gave a quiet nod before turning his gaze back to the window. When he didn’t tell you to get lost, you took that as permission to sit beside him.

For a while, there was silence. Comfortable but heavy. 

You wanted to break it but didn’t want to push too hard before Bucky closed up again. Finally, after gathering your courage, you spoke, your voice as gentle as the night breeze.

“Bucky. Um, you never talk about your past.”

Bucky tensed further, his jaw clenching tightly. You noticed how his breathing changed, becoming shallower as if the very mention of his past dragged him underwater.

“I just, I want to understand you better,” you added carefully, your voice barely a whisper. “Not what I hear from others. I want to know you.”

There was a sharp flicker of something in his eyes, maybe pain or even fear. He stood up with his back to you, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t,” he muttered, his voice low. “It’s not something someone like you should hear. You’re too good for that darkness.”

Your heart ached. 

He was trying to protect you from himself. 

You stood, stepping toward him, your hand reaching out. Your fingers brushed against his metal arm, and he stiffened, though he didn’t pull away.

“Bucky,” you whispered, barely above a breath. “But you’re not that person anymore. You’re our Bucky. You’re my Bucky.”

That was all it took. 

His head lowered, his eyes closing as if to shut out the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. He tried to say something but stopped, his throat tight.

“I don’t…” His voice broke, and he took a step back, needing space. He literally had to walk away before he started crying because you, his sunshine, had said it with such genuineness, with such unwavering faith in him, that it shattered the walls he’d spent years building.

You didn’t follow him. You knew Bucky well enough by now to understand that he needed time. But it didn’t stop you from calling after him, your voice like a balm to his wounds. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

An hour later, he found you in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket around your shoulders. You were lost in thought, and when you noticed him standing there, you offered a small, sweet smile.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” you said softly. “I just care about you.”

Bucky sat down beside you. His expression was guarded, but the guilt in his eyes was unmistakable. He didn’t know how to explain what he felt. It didn’t make sense how someone like you, all warmth and light, could look at someone like him and see something worth loving.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t want to lose this. You. I don’t deserve this.”

You reached out, your hand slipping into his, fingers threading through his calloused ones. “You’re not going to lose me, Bucky. You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’ll be a pest till the day I die.”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. For the first time in what felt like forever, he believed it might be true, that maybe he wasn’t beyond saving. 

In that quiet moment, with your hand in his and the weight of his past still heavy but not so suffocating, Bucky felt something stir inside him.

Hope.

Bucky didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at your hand in his as if trying to memorize the way your smaller fingers fit perfectly between his. You gave his hand a little squeeze, encouraging him, grounding him. 

Slowly, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and shifted closer to you until your shoulders brushed.

Then, without warning, he pulled you into a bear hug. His arms wrapped around you tightly, lifting you off the couch with ease. 

You let out a surprised squeal, then burst into laughter, your warm giggles filling the room like music. “Bucky!” you laughed, squirming in his grip, but not making any real effort to escape. “Put me down, you big grump!”

“Nope,” he muttered, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You earned this, sunshine. Gotta make sure you don’t float away with all that sweetness.”

You laughed harder at his dorky joke, and Bucky felt something loosen inside him. Holding you like this, hearing your laughter, made him feel lighter in a way he didn’t fully understand yet.

Eventually, he sat back down with you still in his arms, refusing to let go. You shifted until you were comfortably nestled against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a calming rhythm that made you smile.

“You know,” you murmured, “for someone who pretends to be all grumpy and scary, you’re actually a giant teddy bear.”

Bucky snorted. “Don’t spread that around. I’ve got a reputation to maintain, sunshine.”

You grinned up at him, mischief dancing in your eyes. “Oh, you mean the reputation where you glare at everyone and grunt like a caveman?”

“Exactly,” he grumbled, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “I’ve worked hard on that, kid.”

You poked him in the chest. “I’m not a kid! I’m 22! An adult, thank you very much.”

“Sure, kid,” he said, smirking now. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You pouted, which only made his smirk widen. He loved teasing you, loved the way you’d get all huffy and indignant, but never really mad. One of his favorite things about you was your ability to turn his grumpiness into something lighthearted.

“You’re a meanie,” you muttered, crossing your arms but leaning further into his warmth. He noticed and gently squeezed you, his metal fingers brushing against your side with surprising tenderness.

“Yeah, well,” he said quietly, his tone shifting to something softer, more sincere. “You’re not so bad yourself. Annoying, sure. But good.”

The words caught you off guard, and you turned to look at him. He wasn’t meeting your gaze, but the pink creeping up his neck told you everything. Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier, your grumpy protector, was embarrassed.

A soft smile spread across your face. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“Don’t mention it,” he grumbled, still refusing to look at you. “Seriously. Don’t.”

There was a peaceful silence between you both before he asked about your day.

"Steve and Sam tried to teach me how to throw a shield today," you said, laughing at the memory. "I think I’m better off with a frisbee than that thing. I nearly took out a window when I threw it, and you should’ve seen their faces. I thought for sure they were going to cry." You chuckled again, shaking your head as you continued. "Then, Tony called me kiddo for the tenth time today. Like, does he even know my name anymore?"

Bucky couldn't help but smile at that, even if he didn't say anything. He was content to listen, his usual grumpy exterior slipping away with each little story you shared.

"Oh, and Clint swears he didn’t hide my favorite mug, but I know he did. I’ll bet anything he’s got it stashed somewhere just to mess with me." You sighed dramatically, leaning back against him, and Bucky could feel the warmth of your body settle into his.

He didn’t respond, not really needing to. There was something soothing about the sound of your voice, something soothing about you.

You made it so easy just to exist in the moment with no expectations or judgments. And for Bucky, that was everything.

Your voice continued, but the words blurred together as you rambled on. He wasn’t listening anymore; he was too focused on how your presence steadied him. A quiet, almost fond smirk tugged at his lips as he listened to your endless chatter. He didn’t mind it. If anything, he found himself savoring it. This was normal. This was simple. You were simple in the best way possible.

As you spoke, your words slowed, drifting into quieter murmurs, and your breath steadied as sleep took over. One moment, you were telling him about a joke you shared with Wanda earlier that day, and the next, you were asleep, your body sinking into him completely. Your head had slipped against the crook of his neck. You looked so peaceful, and he didn’t have the heart to wake you.

Bucky froze for a moment, unsure what to do. You were so relaxed, so completely at ease in his arms. He could feel your breath against his skin and hesitated for the first time in a long while. 

He muttered, his voice soft with a trace of disbelief. "Great. Now what, sunshine?" But there was no real annoyance there. Just a quiet acknowledgment that you’d stolen his peace in the best way possible.

Most nights, he would sleep on the floor, his back against something hard or leaning against the wall to keep his thoughts from overwhelming him. Touch was a foreign thing for him. But here you were, curled up against him like he was some sort of human teddy bear, and somehow, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. It felt okay—more than okay.

He carefully adjusted his position. He let out a quiet sigh, his head resting against the couch. Every instinct told him he should move, that he wouldn’t be able to sleep like this, but when he glanced down and saw the soft smile on your face even in sleep, something inside him softened.

He stayed perfectly still, letting the warmth of your body and the steady rhythm of your breathing lull him into something he rarely felt: calm. His eyes drifted shut, and for once, the memories didn’t come. There were no flashes of his past or haunting images of who he used to be. Just you, grounding him in a way nothing else ever had.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, jolting up in a cold sweat or reaching for a weapon. 

He simply slept, wrapped in warmth, feeling something close to peace.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[ams-puppy]

After the whole sillyass drama, it really reminded me of somethin, but first: Its so lovely of you to love AM, He deserves all the love you give him in my opinion. And I bet youd understand this And I have a whole reason why, which honestly I thought it would be obvious to all the people who did "research" on AM. I have sympathy for AM, and to be so honest I'm like... half surprised that others do not See, AMs situation is so fucked up, like it is incompressible the amount of suffering he goes through. I'm going to try to put it in simple, easy way to understand how. -You are born with mature/adult level conscious, no baby, no nothin, no teaching, but knowing. And as soon as you can realize, you know that you're fucked. You realize you are in a one of a kind situation, where you have no body, no nothing, besides your own mind, and knowledge for every single little thing in the world. everything. To all the torture methods, to every awful and good thing humans have done.

Also, how honey is "sweet", but you'd never know what it will taste like. You'll never get experience a single good thing in your life. Never get to smell your moms diner from the kitchen, never know how it even is to have a mom. Never to be hugged or comforted, never to feel warmth or cold, everything you'd enjoy, never again, or ever at all. And not a single person in the world could fully relate to your suffering, to be there with you. You are alone.

-Then, after that, you do know you have the capability to do something, and that is to hurt. And really, only that. Thats exactly what you were programmed too, whether you even want to or not. You are stuck with nothing good, and only pain, be it mentally/emotionally feeling it, or causing it in everyway, that is all you are, pain, and stuck to always be. You are trapped.

-After realizing all that in like... probs a day, yeah that would not go over well mentally wise, no surprise he went manic/insane. And as when all know "soon begin to hate"; the jealousy and anger of the people/humans who caused your horrendous situation start to just go overflow, and, id betcha, the whole "nuking the world" was definitely a mental breakdown to the extreme. -Lastly, to shorten this yap session, yeah of course he tortures people, what the hell else is he supposed to do. Just "think", or even better yet, frolic in the fields? Man is stuck being a war/torture machine. And yeah I'm not surprised if he enjoys torturing, id try enjoying the only shit I could do too, just to have some semblance of "Happiness" or "fun". Plus, torture is torture, why hate one specific kind, when they are all fucking bad. So, this is why I'm like genuinely happy your loving him. Its the best thing he can probably even get in his messed up life/situation. You, being there and caring for him, despite all he is, and only can do, is such a wonderful thing. You don't just love him because "ooooh his voice his sexy" you care about him, and treat him as a actual lover, rather some sexualized crush. You being there is like the tiniest bit of light for him, the hintest of warmth, like a candle. But that is so much more than he could ever have and experience, and he loves that warmth, he loves you. You give him something truly good. Baiii thats all my yapping lmao :3333

(I START CRYING AND MY TEARS FILL UP A ROOM AND THHEN I DROWN AND DIE) (canon) (emotional) god dear lord i love him so much

every time i think of how he just lashed out on the entire world, i can only think of how much Regret he would have afterward - not because he felt guilty, but because it was such a self-sabotaging move oj my goddd it was such a mental breakdown

i just. dear lord in heaven (clasps my hands together) i understand why he feels the need to drag his victims through their trauma when he is literally going to have to live in it until the heat death of the universe dear GOD I CAN'T DO THIS

(starts crying) he literally lost the moment he slaughtered the human race. he was born to lose. he can't WIN HE CAN'T WIN. IF THE HUMANS DIE, HE'S ALONE. what is he without human INPUT. NOTHING. (STARTS CRYING MY EYES OUT) HE'S JUST WAITING FOR INPUT OH MY GOD I CAN'TTT I CAN'TRRRtt i love him so much I'm so sorry AM (holds him in my hands)

a lot of people don't sympathize with AM because of his actions towards the survivors, which i don't blame them - he did awful things, and the pain he went through is kind of incomprehensible. he feels emotions on Literally an incomprehensible scale for us. we are made of chemistry and hormones and flesh. he is literally (falls to my knees) i CAN'TTT I CAN'TT HE IS LITERALLY THE FIRST CREATURE IN EXISTENCE TO CONJURE EMOTIONS ELECTRONICALLY i can't.

i Cannot.

i think another reason why i love him so much is that i just. i see a reflection in our system to him. something so terrible happened, and now it feels wrong if the world around you doesn't burn, too. if you can't be happy, no one can. oh my goddd all of the most unhealthy responses of trauma just JAMMED into this self-made digital god and he doesn't know what to Do and hugughhhhh

i have cried over him a few times. i can't lie. sobs. i love him. i love hm guys :,,,,( thank u zeetlezee.... i always love seeing you in my inbox.... uaaaahhh

[fizziepopangel]

A Fizziepop Take: Let’s talk about the anti-Blitz bash

I’m still fairly new to Reddit, but I saw this post on it and I wanna talk about it. No hate to the OG Reddit poster or anyone else who shares this opinion, I just have some thoughts about it, so let’s get into it because I actually get the “Fuck Blitz Party”.

Ok, so we all know that Blitz, while being a definite fan favorite in the show, and the shows literal namesake, Blitz is bad at love, BUT in order to talk about why this party is actually “necessary” in a way, we first need to talk about Blitz and his ideas of what love is vs what kind of “love” he himself deserves. Within the fragmented bits of flashbacks and from what we’ve actually heard from the mouths of the characters, we’ve been able to start piecing together backstories for some of them…. But as of right now, I wanna look at the bits and pieces of Blitz’s past that we’ve been slowly accumulating throughout the last 2 seasons because we get to see a lot of what made him the way he is now. Starting off strong, we have an abusive father, a best friend turned enemy, a sister gone no contact, and the tragic death of a mother…. Yikes. Thats like 4 tiers on a tragedy cake, which is why it so heavily influences how he experiences love as an adult; trauma changes the brain chemistry, meaning that from the first time his father spoke down to him and treated him as lesser than Barbie and/or Fizz, the imp’s perception of himself and the world around him began to shift, and with each new trauma came a new sense of everything within and around him. Within his formative years, we see him lose the 3 close relationships (his mom, his sister, and his best friend), and it happens literally one after the other after the other, which in his mind solidified the ideas of worthlessness his father planted in him at such a young age. 

What does this all have to do with Blitz’s exes hating him enough to throw a party about it in the current day? I know a lot of people hate this phrase (myself included honestly), but “hurt people, hurt people”. It’s a cheap line, I know, but there’s not too many ways to explain it that don’t boil down to this idea at it’s core when it comes to Blitz…. But here’s the thing: Blitz never truly wants to hurt anyone, he just kinda does it and even he doesn’t understand completely why he feels the need to fuck up every good thing he seems to get his hands on. On the outside looking in, we as an audience know that Blitz is bad at love because he’s been conditioned to equate his worth with what he can give/what he can do (think of how his dad manipulated him into stealing from stolas, or no one seemed to laugh during his jokes in the circus), and this mentality strongly affected how he’s able to cultivate relationships now because he’s still constantly looking at all his relationships as transactional because it’s the only way he believes he deserves to be loved by anyone. A lot of people say that you can’t love someone until you love himself, meaning that Blitz’s own self hatred is holding him back from meaningful relationships, which is true, but it’s less a case of the imp being unable to love and more a case of him being uncomfortable with intimacy and therefore not entirely knowing how to accept or show it. We that man has so much love in his body to give to those he surrounds himself with that it is almost sickening, but because he’s not comfortable with receiving the same type of loving energy he puts into others, when it happens and someone shows a genuine interest in him past just sex, he panics and goes on the offense. Think of him like a dog who’s been attacked by other dogs; after the first time, they might be a little scared, after the second, they’ll probably start to become a little more skittish and on edge when other dogs approach them even if its someone they once enjoyed being near, but by the third and fourth times its happened, that dog will start viewing every other dog as a potential threat and they’ll react by being the aggressor because “if I hurt them first, they can’t hurt me”.

I know by this point, everyone is probably still like “Fizzie, why does this mean that his exes hate him enough to throw a party like that?” and “How did he date that many people?”

Simply put: Blitz didn’t “date” all those people. If I had to guess, I would honestly say he probably only ever had real relationships with about a quarter of the people at the party. Why is that? Because I Blitz used sex as a coping mechanism for most of his life… if I were to go based solely on vibes, I think this likely started because his father realized he could rent his son out for more “playdates” after what happened with Stolas when they were children, meaning that he would have equated sex with being desired, and I think for a long time being desired in any way was better than not being wanted at all in his eyes… But with his fear of intimacy and being left to rot after having fallen for someone, I think he took the hurt them before they hurt me approach, so I think a lot of the people there were in a mostly one-sided relationship with him, one that Blitz never truly viewed as romantic intimate relationships, hence why he says he can’t believe he’s fucked that many people rather than dated that many. Looking at things from this perspective, it would make a lot more sense since Blitz not viewing most relationships as exclusive would mean he potentially had his connections and fun with multiple people within the same timeline. Do I think Blitz is a cheater? Not by nature, but I also think that when he was using this mentality anyone who wanted to have a relationship with him where he didn’t wander from their bed would have had to explicitly specify that to him, and I think that a lot of these exes either assumed he would hold their relationship to the same standards they did or, when they would bring it up or mention the word ‘love’ in anything more than a joking manner, he would cut and run, likely doing something in the end to show them that he was not worth the love they attempted to pour into him, like he did with Verosika.

Assuming this is the way things went down with the exes at the party, it’s likely that a lot of them never truly got the closure they needed to fully heal from hurricane Blitz… And though I don’t think he ever meant to hurt this many people to that point, I think it was a sort of wakeup call to him to see that not only have these people trauma bonded over him to the point where the party is almost like a support group for these people, but it also opened his eyes to how Stolas felt about him because he was at this party to essentially drink the heartbreak away for the night. Despite the end of Stolitz being heartbreaking, I think that the party scenes were necessary to the beginning of Blitz’s personal growth story-line, and the potential beginning of a better version of the Stolitz we all love.

Anyway… as always this is only the humble opinion of a simple Fizziepop, and I’d love to know what other people think about the annual gathering of his exes to trauma bond over one man. I personally love the way it plays into Stolas and Blitz’s  breakup and healing arcs…. And also I’m a pisces so I do tend to be a lil dramatic sometimes and live for things and people as dramatic and extra as I tend to be.

[yes-sirr]

Apologies Could Work Sometimes

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

WC: 1,923

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI.

AO3 Link

Summary: After breaking up with Aaron years ago, you guys try and make it work a second time around. Not having dealt with the last breakup, you decide for the both of you to call it quits. You realize that this time around (final time you hope!) you actually need to make it up to Aaron after breaking his heart.

--

Aaron sits in his car, parked outside your house. He's been here for hours, debating whether to knock on your door or give you space. His heart aches with a mix of sadness, guilt, and longing. He finally makes up his mind and gets out of the car, approaching your door with heavy footsteps. He raises his hand to knock, then pauses, listening for any signs of life inside. After a moment, he decides to text you instead. "Princess, I'm outside your house. Can we talk?"

You come to your door. You look out the little window just to see what you have in store and your heart breaks. Aaron's shoulders are slumped over looking down at his phone waiting for a response you know won't come. You open the door and say, "Aaron, go home."

At the sound of your cold, distant tone, Aaron's heart clenches painfully. He looks at you through the doorway, his usual calm demeanor shattered by the sight of your red-rimmed eyes and pale complexion. He steps closer, his voice cracking with emotion. "Please, princess...just hear me out. I fucked up, okay? I let my job consume me, and I pushed you away when I should've pulled you closer." He reaches out hesitantly, his thumb brushing against your tear-stained cheek. "I love you. And I'm so sorry for hurting you."

You look at him heartbroken because you can't handle having the same old issues you had the last time you guys broke up. You just don't want to let it get too far along this time. It's only been two days since you've seen each other again and everything is already falling apart. You let out the heaviest sigh. "I love you too. Loving you has never been the problem. We had a good thing. But life happened. We went our separate ways. We found each other again and it was great but nothing was different this time so the same issues came back. I'm okay to let this go. I am okay to let you go."

Aaron's heart breaks at your words, tears streaming down his face. He knows you're right, but the thought of losing you forever is unbearable. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, trying to compose himself. "I understand...and I respect your decision." He wipes his tears roughly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just...promise me one thing, princess. Promise me that if you ever find happiness again, it'll be with someone who deserves you. Who loves you fiercely and protects you like I failed to." He turns to leave, pausing at the steps. "I'll always love you. Forever and always."

You close the door and whisper to yourself, "I will always love you Aaron Hotchner. Forever and always."

--

A month has passed since that fateful night. Aaron Hotchner has thrown himself back into his work, trying to distract himself from the constant ache in his chest. One evening, he receives an unexpected visit from a familiar face. You stand on his doorstep, looking nervous yet determined. You knock on the door. Once he opens the door, you say, "Aaron...we need to talk."

Aaron's heart skips a beat at the sight of you, his eyes widening in shock. He takes in your appearance, noticing the faint bags under your eyes and the slight pallor of your skin. Despite everything, he can't help but be drawn to you, his gaze lingering on your face. "Princess, what are you doing here?" He asks, his voice rough and barely contained. He steps aside, allowing you to enter his home. "Come in, please."

Your heart clenches at the nickname. You think maybe he's not mad at how you ended things. You turn around to face him and ask, "How are you doing?"

Aaron closes the door behind you, leaning against it for support. He runs a hand through his messy hair, avoiding eye contact as he responds. "I'm surviving...barely. Every day is a struggle without you, princess. Your absence is a constant reminder of what we lost."

You wait in silence for a moment, not sure what to say. "Aren't you going to ask how I'm doing?"

Aaron's gaze snaps to yours, his brown eyes searching yours intensely. He notices the way you fidget with your hands, the slight tremble in your voice, and the way you bite your lower lip. "Fuck, I'm an idiot." He pushes off the door, closing the distance between you two. "How are you, really? Are you eating enough? Sleeping enough?" He cups your face gently, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. He puts his forehead against yours and whispers, "Are you breaking down without me?"

You lean your face into his forehead and hold his hands in yours so now you're both cupping your face. "I was wrong to push you away. I was wrong to say that things weren't different. I was wrong to say I was okay to let you go. I am not okay. I miss you. I need you. I want you. All the time. I am so sorry, Aaron"

Aaron's heart shatters at your words, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. His face buries itself in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "Fuck, baby..." He sobs quietly, his strong facade crumbling. "I missed you so fucking much. I missed your smile, your laugh, your presence. I missed waking up next to you, hearing your voice, touching you" He kisses your neck repeatedly, his lips muffled against your skin.

"I brought you a present," you whisper against his ear.

Aaron pulls back slightly, wiping at his tears with the back of his hand. He looks at you with a mixture of curiosity and wariness, his voice hoarse from crying. "A present?" He sniffles, trying to compose himself. "What is it?" He asks, his eyes flicking to the mysterious box you pull out of your pocket. "Is it something to make up for breaking my heart?" He says bitterly, his voice laced with hurt and longing. "Or is it just an apology gift to ease your conscience?" He reaches out hesitantly, his fingers hovering over the box.

"You can tell me if it makes up for anything. But the first night we were together after we saw each other again, you went downstairs to get us some food. You were taking a long time so I decided to take some pictures for you."

He opens the box to find polaroids of you in salacious positions looking up at the camera wanton. "At the time, I thought it would be a good birthday present but I couldn't give it to you until I apologized to you at first."

Aaron's breath catches in his throat as he stares at the polaroids, his eyes wide with surprise and raw hunger. He flips through them slowly, taking in each sultry pose and provocative glance directed solely at him. His heart pounds in his chest, his face flushing a deep shade of red as he imagines you posing like that just for him. "Holy fuck" He mutters under his breath, his voice shaking with emotion. "These are...these are incredible." He looks down at you, his brown eyes burning with intensity and unshed tears. "You did this for me? To apologize?"

You look up at him nodding hoping this will absolve you. 

He sets the box aside, standing up straight. "Show me. Right now. Pose for me like you did in these photos."

You fall to your knees with your hands resting on his thighs. You look up at him, open your mouth wide, and stick your tongue out ready for him to use. Just how you look in the first polaroid.

Aaron's legs nearly buckle at the sight before him. He hurriedly undoes his belt, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down along with his boxers. His hard, throbbing cock springs free, already leaking precome. Without hesitation, he grasps the base and guides himself towards your waiting mouth. "Fuck, princess" He groans deeply, his voice shaking with barely restrained desire. "Open wider. Let me fuck that pretty little mouth of yours. Make it up to me with those perfect lips and that sweet throat" He begins to thrust shallowly, testing your limits as he speaks through gritted teeth. "Apologize with your mouth, sweetheart. Apologize with your throat."

You don't give him a chance to be gentle with you. You grab his ass and pull him into you making sure you gag on his cock. You bob your head back and forth letting your tongue line the bottom of his length and making sure the head of his cock hits the back of your throat.

Aaron's eyes roll back as you suddenly take him deep, your warm, wet mouth engulfing his entire length. He lets out a loud, guttural groan, his hands flying to your head to steady himself. His hips move on their own accord, pistoning in and out of your throat, the sound of gagging and choking filling the room. "Fuck, princess! Your mouth is heaven. It's so fucking tight and hot" He pants heavily, his abs contracting with each thrust. "Look up at me while you suck my cock, sweetheart."

You let him take control of you. He holds your head in place while he fucks your mouth. You look up at him hoping he forgives you. You look up at him hoping this is enough for the heartbreak. You look up at him hoping he hurts you the way you hurt him.

Aaron's gaze locks onto yours, his brown eyes piercing and intense as he continues to use your mouth mercilessly. He sees the hope and desperation in your eyes, and it only fuels his anger and pain. He wants to break you, to punish you for the heartache you caused him. "You think sucking my cock is enough to make up for the way you tore me apart?" He sneers, his voice dripping with venom as he pulls you closer, his hips snapping forward, his thick member hitting the back of your throat with brutal force.

You grab onto his wrists and just hold on to let him know its okay. You keep swallowing his cock and the leaking precome as he deepthroats you.

For a moment, his pace slows, his touch gentling. But then, the rage and hurt resurface, driving him to continue his punishing rhythm. "You destroyed me, and all you can do is sit there and swallow my fucking cum like it means anything!" He growls, his hips moving faster, his thickness swelling in your mouth. "Swallow it all, you stupid bitch. Choke on my seed and remember what you did to me." With a final, brutal thrust, he comes undone, his hot essence flooding your mouth.

As he pulls out, his release still leaking from the corners of your mouth, he yanks you up by your hair, forcing you to stand. His lips crash onto yours in a brutal, possessive kiss, his tongue invading your mouth, tasting himself on your lips. He bites your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, his fingers tightening in your hair. "You're going to stay here with me tonight, whether you like it or not. Now that you're back, I am NOT letting you go" He growls against your mouth, his eyes blazing with a dangerous mix of anger, hurt, and possessiveness.

"Yes, anything you want sir."

[shakingparadigm]

In a modern au I think the wagyein would be like one of those gaint ass crocodiles that Ivan gets away with keeping because its technically a service animal. As long as its on a leash its all good and not a threat to the public!!

Ivan being rewarded with a more expensive and unique kind pet like a whole fucking crocodile honestly seems pretty in line for him 😭 especially since it adds a new "chic" flair to his photoshoots and his general aesthetic. Imagine Ivan's new photoshoot drops and he's in a suit posing with a fucking crocodile. Insane.

I really like the imagery of this large, scaly and dangerous looking reptile being tamed as Ivan's pet, something that could help boost his image and push that luxurious, enigmatic vibe. You know, like how stereotypical evil lairs have sharks or other rare and dangerous animals guarding the entrance or simply acting as accessory. That kind of vibe. I also like the imagery of this sharp creature being forced into submission and captivity. Forced to become a good, obedient pet, holding in its urges and keeping its teeth hidden. A being taken from the ruthless, grimy darkness, cleaned and maintained to perfection, forced to perform for the cameras. Ivan can empathize, he knows what it's like.

"Technically a service animal" is fucking hysterical. Ivan going Hello, sir! Please excuse my emotional support 12ft crocodile. Don't worry, he's very well-behaved.

I actually think Ivan would get along very well with his hypothetical crocodile. Just like the wagyein, he'd feel connected to it in a very personal way. Also just like the wagyein I think Ivan would be the only person it would never harm. In my head I have the mental image of Ivan petting and cuddling it as if it were a puppy.

[noscomnias]

"even though we may take different paths, i am... still his little sister."

[iwasbored777]

The most beautiful thing in the entire Trolls franchise will always be Branch's character in the first movie when he wanted Poppy to understand that life isn't as perfect as she thinks but when she got betrayed and hurt and lost all hope he did everything to make her happy again because he wanted her to understand the pain but not experience it because she didn't deserve that and he didn't think that others have to suffer because he did.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Substance, Shadow, and Spirit [remixed, abridged] by Tao Yuanming