#but I don’t think it anymore and I think it’s been A WHILE since

[1980shorrorfilm]

i know it’s over

click!!!

pairing…ellie williams x gn!reader

in which…ellie doesn’t have the heart to tell joel you had broken up before the holidays; so you pretend you didn’t.

before you read...18+. angst. sad sex. afab reader. written with modern au in mind.

slow christmas songs play lowly from a record joel had put on, setting the mood of the crackling wood in the fireplace, and the twinkling tree in the corner.

the older man is laughing with ellie about something in the kitchen, and for a moment, this feels normal. like you belong here, and you’re happy to be here; something so wrong.

three weeks of heartache, shoved to the pits of your stomach, forced to smile and act as though you didn’t carry that overbearing pain. as if you and ellie were okay. she might be. you’re not sure, she doesn’t open up about her feelings to you anymore, especially not about your breakup.

it would be too hard, for her, for you, for your loved ones that view you two as inseparable. sure, the time will come when it can no longer remain a secret, but you’re in no rush to admit to something you still cannot even fathom happening in the first place. 

to tell the world that ellie isn’t yours anymore, that the small insignificant arguments had somehow piled up and led you down an unhappy path. something so odd to think about now, because you’ve only ever been happy with ellie. until now.

you see her from the corner of your eye, taking a seat on the couch beside you, but not next to you. not directly, not close enough to place her hand on your lap, to allow your head to rest on her shoulder. even as much as that hurts, it doesn’t compare to the emotional distance between you.

your eyes remain on the glowing fire before you, not daring to look at the woman who was already looking to you. searching for something to say, to make this less awkward. her mouth stays shut, allowing the quiet void to be filled with whatever sad christmas song was playing. 

you’re grateful the moment is soon interrupted by a knock at joel’s door, signaling his brother and his wife have arrived. you watch the flip switch in ellie, her cold demeanor around you suddenly dropping with a smile, hugging tommy and maria while you fiddle with your fingers.

you’re next to be engulfed in tight embraces, the couple had done an incredible job at making you feel welcomed in their family. they have since they realized ellie was pretty fucking serious about you, but that was three years ago. three years now down the drain.

you force a smile when you catch the negative thoughts spilling in your head, though it doesn’t reach your eyes, ellie noticing from a few feet away. 

she hated it.

joel interrupts with the announcement of dinner, bringing you a great sense of relief. just get it over with, pass out in the guest bedroom you two are occupying for the night, and leave in the morning. go back to life without her.

you sit in the chair next to ellie, feeling her hand cling to yours under the table. she squeezes gently, and you’re unsure if it was out of reassurance or habit. regardless, you sharply pull your hand away, her head snapping towards you, but you don’t look at her. 

you pick at your food, drowning ellie out with whatever conversation joel and tommy are sharing, even laughing at their stupid jokes. and it’s genuine, ellie spotting the twinkle in your eyes when your lips curled upwards. 

she was so fixated on you looking…happy, that she hadn’t realized she was the topic of discussion, joel telling a story about her rebellious teenage years. 

you forget the tension between you two at the moment, especially when ellie chimes in, correcting joel on some of the details, and eventually just taking over.

you direct your attention to her, the tint of red painting her freckled cheeks due to embarrassment, which slowly faded as she chuckled at her younger self. 

she was always so adorable when she got flustered, and you’re reminded how much she hated it when you pointed that out. or so, she pretended to. she never admitted that just made her even more flustered. 

her eyes meet yours now, and you’re pulled out of the moment, smile falling. an exchanged uncomfortable glare. loving gazes now replaced with something bitter and too much for you to bear. you redirect your eyes to your lap.

joel takes in the sight from the end of the table, sipping on his drink, before speaking. 

“so… you two gonna keep lookin’ like you’ve got a secret?” 

you both turn to him.

“hm?” “what?”

your voices blend with each other, the heat rising in your cheeks at the spotlight put on you two. was it that obvious? did he have to point it out? 

“a secret? who’s gotta secret?” tommy chimes in, your head now dipping as ellie lets out an exhausted sigh. “no one— no one,” ellie says, using that firm tone that everyone recognizes as her stop bothering me tone. you got pretty used to it in the days leading up to your breakup.

joel drops it, knowing if ellie wanted joel to know anything, she would’ve told him. tommy dares to pry, though, not recognizing the thick tension. 

“y’all hiding rings from us?” he chuckles, but no one laughs. if anything, it makes you want to cry. you would pick that scenario over this a million times over again. you wonder what you could’ve done differently that would’ve led you down that road with her, and down the aisle. 

how you could’ve treated her better, despite treating her like the most loved person in the entire world. because that’s what she is to you, even now. how you could’ve solved every issue that snuck into your relationship, despite trying to and ending up feeling like you had only made it so much worse. 

how you would be holding her fidgety hand under this table, just longing to feel the comfort of her warm touch, rather than dropping it and being repelled by her touch. how everything could’ve been good. perfect, even. instead, you’re stuck grieving a fleeting relationship in silence. 

ellie clears her throat, “maybe one day.”

ouch. your chair scrapes against the wooden floorboard, ellie looking up at you as you walk away, excusing yourself to the bathroom. you don’t register you’re crying until you’re locked safely in the small room, holding onto the sink, letting them fall down your face.

maybe it was the way she said it— like she almost believed it. or wished for it. or the idea that your ex-girlfriend was going to be married, and it wasn’t to you. that you’re here, for the last time. that you’re spending the most wonderful time of year with the love, and loss, of your life, for the last time. 

you had managed to wear faux smiles since the break up— it was inevitable for this breakdown to occur. 

after a moment of muffling your cries into your hands, there’s silence, you attempting to calm yourself and return to a state of false normalcy. then the gentle knock hits the bathroom door, joel’s gruff voice pulling you from your thoughts.

“you alright, kiddo?”

you dry your face, practicing a smile in the mirror, then swinging the door open. “yeah— yeah, sorry,” you tell him, “just don’t feel well.”

it’s not a complete lie, you truly feel like the earth is crumbling at your feet. you wouldn’t tell him why, exactly, but joel had two working eyes.

“you know…if there’s anything going on between you two…” he drifts off, not even sure where he was going with this. he wasn’t great with advice, he just tried to speak on what he knew. and what he knows is, you’re one of the best things to happen to ellie. 

“you two got lucky finding each other. that’s all,” he tells you, giving a sad smile like he is aware of the situation without having it explained to him. 

it crushes your heart even more, another nail hit in the coffin of you and ellie. another pile of dirt poured over you two, burying your relationship that you’re not ready to let go of. but holy fuck, is it nearly out of your grasp.

when he walks away, the tears begin to build again. you swiftly walk to the bedroom ellie and you were staying for the night, hearing the muffled voices from downstairs, hoping you weren’t the topic. 

you are. not in the sense that you dread, though, rather being spoken about highly from maria. ellie keeps her green eyes trained on the floor, listening to the woman elaborate on the words that tommy had said earlier. a ring. a proposal. a step forward for you two. 

not knowing there wasn’t a step forward, there was nothing anymore. 

“y/n…they uh, aren’t feeling too hot,” joel changes the topic, ellie picking up her lowly hung head. though she can assume the reasoning as to why, she still leaves the room, a need to check in on you, even if that’s not what you want. 

you hear the door open, but you’re laid comfortably on your side, not bothering to turn over and see her. 

“hey,” her voice is wary, nervous while approaching the bed. she sees the tear marks on your pretty face, the one nearly covered by the blanket pulled up to the tip of your nose. ellie kneels on the floor beside you, meeting you face to face. sad eyes to miserable eyes. 

“it’s too much, ellie,” you whisper, voice cracking near immediately. 

“i know.”

“why did we…” you stop yourself, the heat in your cheeks now burning you alive, thinking about it too much. something that’s said and done, something you two discussed to not talk about again, and yet. 

“it’s so hard,” you barely get out, now pulling the blanket over your head completely, a safe space to let your tears flow rather than in front of the only person that would ever comfort you. 

ellie still does, pulling the soft fabric back down, palm resting against your cheek kindly— wishing she could take the same pain she is experiencing, from you. 

she would endure it, and perhaps this would be easier. entering the new year no longer caring for her. putting yourself first for once rather than her. loving yourself more than her. it would all be so easy. 

her head falls, and her eyes water. your blurry vision clears when you take notice, suddenly putting your emotions on the back burner and wiping your eyes. 

“els,” you whisper, throwing the blanket off of you and sitting up. your legs swing over the edge of the bed, ellie taking it as an invitation to close whatever space was between you, sobbing in your lap. a rare sight, she hadn’t even done this the night you had split. she was monotone, numb in that moment. now, it’s crashing down on her at once. 

you stay like this until her crying stops, the house now quiet, tommy and maria having left. joel is assumingly in his bedroom, passed out as a christmas classic plays on his television. the house feels colder, or maybe that’s just the bedroom. 

when ellie adjusts herself, she looks up to you, an unspoken conversation being held between your damp eyes. 

ellie leans forward, doing the last thing she should do right now, and kisses you. softly. sadly. passionately. 

you scoot back on the bed, her lips not leaving yours while she crawls on top of you, neither of you thinking right now— not about what’s happening, anyway. 

all you feel is her, and you need her, in every sense, weeks of telling yourself that you don’t now unraveling. this isn’t about lust. even when her cool hand travels to the waistband of your pants, finding warmth inside of them, awaiting a reaction from you. to push her away, or change your mind, she waits for it. 

her lips part from yours, face inches from yours, studying you. you speak quietly, “please.”

she gulps.

once more, she leans in, lips moving slowly with yours, while her hand slips into your underwear. you gasp into her mouth when you feel her, busying your own hands beneath her dark shirt, resting them against her pale back. 

your nails dig into her the moment her middle finger enters you, but you only whimper when she adds her ring finger, letting you adjust to how she feels inside you— just right.

then she curls them, angling them on that spongey spot without fault, kissing you harder when a yelp attempts to escape from your lips, being reunited with a feeling you had longed for. 

the feeling of ellie taking care of you. wanting to make you feel more than okay. not locked in the bathroom crying after an argument, or isolated in your shared bed because she’d rather sleep on your worn-out thrifted couch. 

ellie loving you. 

the wind howls against the windows in the bedroom, and you hope the eerie noise blocks your crying out. it doesn’t, and ellie suddenly stops. 

“fuck,” she whispers to herself, both guilt and shame creeping into her veins. she took this too far, she thinks. ellie attempts to pull away, but your hand grips her arm, preventing her from doing so.

“i’m okay— ellie, please,” you tell her, afraid to stop, and to lose this. you need this. you beg again, “please, baby.”

and ellie repeats herself again, “fuck.”

to your request, she keeps going, fucking you while you cling to her. ellie is going fast, relentless, and the noises between your thighs are indecent. your grasp gets tighter the closer she brings you to that light at the end of the tunnel, but you can’t seem to actually reach it. 

you’re drifting, even when she picks up her pace, pressing against the sweet spots that would usually have you seeing stars.

you know ellie is rushing this. she’s not making love to you, she’s fucking you crudely, but right now your mind is desperately trying to blur those lines.

your eyes remain shut when ellie’s face parts from yours, attempting to chase that high running away from you. 

“hey,” ellie speaks, “look at me, y/n.”

you obey, brows furrowed with pleasure and sadness. you probably look a mess; she doesn’t think so. “beautiful,” she says, that rasp in her voice that you’re utterly obsessed with.

“haven’t said it enough lately…but you are…so fucking beautiful,” ellie continues, not slowing down the rhythm at which she moved in and out of you. “wish you could see yourself…fuck…”

you know what she’s doing, but it’s absolutely working.

she feels you tighten around her, heart racing and jaw-dropping with a moan threatening to spill from your soft lips. she reacts quickly, palm on your mouth to muffle the noise, these walls too thin for the noises she made you make.

“gonna be quiet for me?” ellie asks, the question more so teasing than sincere. still, you nod lazily against the mattress. she questions you again, “gonna cum for me?”

you don’t answer her this time— your body does that for you, shuddering beneath her and crying out into her hand. ellie doesn’t drag it out, she removes her fingers, sucking them while you collect yourself, calming your shaky breath.

it’s a waiting game for who speaks first, ellie shifting and sitting at the edge of the bed, gripping the blanket beneath her. she’s trying to wrap her head around…all of this…around you. 

meanwhile, you force your tired body to move, crawling behind her and wrapping your arms around her torso, head resting on her shoulder. a position you could stay in forever if life was kind enough and allowed you to. 

“we can tell him in the morning.”

her words bring you out of the haze you’re in, like a bucket of ice-cold water thrown in your fucking face. that’s what ellie did best. she gave you everything you had wanted, just to take it away. 

“okay,” you respond, letting go of her completely— in the physical way.

[kiryoutann]

i feel like this was wayyy too cute not to share now, so… sneak peek??? and i'm convinced simon is the most patient girl dad out there.

Walking over slowly so as not to scare her, he then asked, “What’s goin’ on ‘ere then?”

Gianna whipped around in a flash like a criminal caught in the act, her big brown eyes gleaming with a touch of guilt but not a trace of fear. "I dropped my cereal," she confessed succinctly, mirroring a trait she had unquestionably inherited from her father.

He crouched down next to her. “’Ere, let me help you with that,” then reached out, taking the paper towel from her tiny hands and started cleaning up.

Gianna just watched him until she finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

“’S alright, darlin’. Accidents ‘appen.” Simon stated, rising to his feet and tossing the used tissues into the trash can. He then turned his attention back to his daughter. “But you could’ve woke me up. I’d ‘ave helped you clean it up straight away.”

“I know, but you were sleeping. An’ mum says you sleep like a… like a… clog?”

At that, he couldn't help but chuckle. “I think you mean a log, love.” He corrected.

“Oh right!” The little girl exclaims, nodding her head. “Tha’s the word. You sleep like a log.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever yer mum says.” He glanced at the box of cereal still sitting on the kitchen counter, then decided to keep himself and his daughter away from it. “So cereal is no option then. What d’you want for breakfast instead?”

Without missing a beat, Gianna chirps, “Ice cream!”

Simon snorts, shaking his head. “Can’t ‘ave ice cream for breakfast, darlin’.”

Gianna tilts her head to the side, eyes looking up at him questioningly. "Why not?" she asked. “Mummy 'as coffee for breakfast, alllll the time!” she spreads her arms out for dramatic effect—he chuckles at that. Definitely got it from mommy.

“Yeah, don’t be like yer mum, alright?”

The girl frowns slightly. “But why not? Mummy’s pretty, an’ she cooks good food.”

Something he couldn’t disagree with. He nodded, reaching out to ruffle her blonde hair. “That she does, darlin’. But we still don’t want you havin’ coffee or ice cream for breakfast, alright?”

"Okay, then can we go to Uncle John's house?" she asked.

“An’ why’s that?”

Gianna bounced on her toes, her arms swinging. “I miss Buddy an’ Daisy!”

Simon groaned inwardly. Should’ve known she’d bring that up. Ever since that one time he brought her to Price’s place and she met his dogs, Gianna has been begging to go back. Every time after school—“Can we go to Uncle John’s house?” Every weekend—“Can we go to Uncle John’s house?” And the thing is, the bloody mutts aren’t even there anymore, not since Price and his missus divorced.

“The dogs ain't there anymore, love.” He watched her face fall.

"Why not?" she asked, eyes wide in confusion.

Simon shrugged. “Cause,” he trailed off, not really wanting to explain the whole messy divorce situation to a five-year-old. “Nevermind that. What d’you want for breakfast?”

Instead of answering, Gianna crossed her arms while frowning. “I don’t want breakfast. I want Buddy an’ Daisy!

A sigh escaped Simon as the results of his parenting bit him in the ass. Bloody hell, he had to stop surrendering to her big eyes and pouting lips—just like her mum. She had learned from the best, hadn’t she? Got him wrapped around her tiny finger. There was only one trick up his sleeve to get her to cooperate.

“If you don’t eat breakfast, then then we won’t be able to go an’ watch yer mum later.”

And sure enough, Gianna’s whole expression lit up, renewed. She gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth in an exaggerated gesture. Seems like he got himself a drama queen.

“We’re gonna watch Mum?!” she asked, full of hope.

Simon nodded, trying to maintain a serious expression but always failing because of her antics. “As long as you behave an’ eat breakfast.”

The five-year-old was cheering, jumping, and doing her little dances in unbridled energy—just like her mum. He guessed it was true what Garrick said that day the lads visited the two of you at the hospital after Gianna was born—“She’s a perfect blend of the both of you.”

[allurilove]

What are the yanderes getting you?

“Also featuring Henry and Moira.”

Yandere Boyfriend has seen the trend on tiktok where people make a ‘burr basket’ for their significant other. He’s obviously going to participate because he simply loves you, and he doesn’t want to be flamed on the internet incase you wanted to share how you didn’t get one to a bunch of people you didn’t know. He thought that a ‘burr basket’ was sort of ridiculous, that it fed into overconsumption, but he decided to put that aside and get you one because it’ll make you happy. He’s been secretly shopping here and there, watching you browse the aisles and stores. You had the tendency to call something ‘cute’ or you made a comment that you needed that item— yet you would always put it back on the shelf and walk away. Your boyfriend would scratch his head in confusion and quickly grab that thing and toss it into the basket he carried. If you weren’t going to buy it, he will.

Calm Yandere has always been the type of person to think of a theme before he buys you something. For your birthday, he knew that you ran out of your favorite perfume, so he buys you another, and a bunch of flowers and aromatic things. For this year, he knew he wanted to get you an array of cozy items. A thick white sweater, mufflers with a snowflake design, fuzzy socks to go with the pair of uggs, a candle that smells like apple and wood, and a bunch of tea he got from a specialty store. He puts all of his items in a red box with a gingerbread design, and puts a bow on top. He’s quite happy with what he got you, and he contemplated multiple times if he should just tell you. However, every time he reached for his phone, his dog would put her paw on his hand. Silently telling him not to.

Yandere Husband loves to travel with his family, but since his sisters were visiting him instead, he decided to stay at home and surprise you with something else. Tickets, booking hotels and flights was his sort of expertise, and buying gifts for others… was a bit of an hassle since you had closed yourself off to him. He couldn’t tell what you liked anymore, so he was really working off of whatever intel Henry gave him. But, he had an inkling that Henry was mostly dropping hints of what he wanted. Because your husband was pretty sure you couldn’t care less about receiving monster trucks, and “sick new shoes, and it has to be from adidas. Dad, are you even listening? Should I just draw you the exact pair I want— I mean what mom wants?”

Your man knew that you wanted a lamp. You had mentioned before that you wanted to add some light to the bedroom, and instead of giving you a regular shmegular lamp, he got you the Alabaster Totem 16 that costed about 30k. He just thought it was cute and unique. And of course, he just haaaad to get you some jewelry too. He personally liked Mikimoto and got you the ‘Classic Black Sea Pearl and Diamond Pendant.’ He also got you another necklace from Graff, a ‘Pear Shape Diamond Cross-over Necklace.’

This is the type of food Moira and Henry would make for reader— with the help of yandere husband of course lol. They might not be too concerned if the food tastes good or not, and as long as it was pretty, they’ll feed it to their mother. While yandere husband is busy making the food, the kids will make their iconic homemade cards they give you every year. Henry is a drawer, always scribbling some comic inside his card instead of words, and Moira liked to practice her cursive skills.

For Yandere Chaebol, Christmas is a pretty big deal to him and his family. He has a truckload of presents for his family, and another truck for his kids. His cousins are located in Busan, and his whole mother’s side preferred the simpler life of Jeju island. So, he’s dragging you around to visit all of his family. He’s not ashamed to show you off to his family anymore, and the press had learned of your guys’ relationship. A lot of people had so much shit to say, and the k-netizens don’t technically like you. The Chaebol cares about practicality… and comfortability, so he bought you a pair of shoes. You two will be walking around a lot, seeing nice sights, and eat good food. He might not be getting you much, but he’s paying for pretty much everything. The hotels, restaurants, the transportation, and the dumb souvenirs you want.

Yandere Prince isnt about to get you a necklace or earrings, but definitely a human feast. He’s been keeping a list of all the people he hates, and had beef with, for the past year. For thirty days straight, he’s been hunting them down and kidnapping them. He kept them plump for his wife- shoving clean foods down their throat. When Christmas time came along, he pretended he didn’t get you anything. He just sat there at the head of the table, and made brief glances at you. You were a tinge disappointed, your stomach growling, but you never had a taste for human food. You were starting to expect that you were going to have to sit there and watch your family chow down, but then… Your husband got up from his seat, clapped his hands, and a light had appeared at the newly built stage. His enemies were then lined up one by one, each in chains and shackles. The yandere prince might not show love for you, but he does think you’re beautiful. The way you tear into his enemies and make them scream… he’s glad to have you.

Dumb Yandere’s making sure that the house is clean, the bedsheets were washed and dried, and that the dining room is decorated to the nines! The yandere bought a tiny tree with red and white ornaments, a mistletoe taped to the front door (so he can immediately have an excuse to kiss you), and he was your present. The man awkwardly adjusted the wrapping paper he put around his cock, and he waddled around the house as he prepared the dinner table. He had ordered food before you came, and he made the dessert himself. He picked off the burnt bits on the pie, and tried to cover up the misshapen brownies with powdered sugar.

Crybaby Yandere Inmate could only cry from behind bars. He cried, humped his pillows, cried again, and then decided to make you a card. With his crayons he drew a portrait of you and him standing by a tree on the front of the card, and on the inside, he started to write how much he missed you. He rubbed the strawberry jam he got from breakfast on his lips, and he pressed long and hard onto the paper. “mmmmwah,” he then smiled as he pulled away and saw the kiss mark on the paper. All he could hope for is that you hadn’t fallen for another man.

Allure: Still writing yandere husband x you part four. So far it’s about 1.6k words rn.

[jjkbambi]

the morning after luigi mangione x reader (18+)

summary!!! part two of is it new years yet because you do not get back together just cuz he has good dick OMG 🖕🖕🖕🖕😒 he also has a great personality and loves eating pussy

warnings: smut, kinda angsty, he’s manipulative but honestly he’s such a nice guy, you should really give him a second chance

^ not edited let’s alll just practice gratitude 🙏

seven days, thirteen hours, and nine minutes and thirty six seconds.

that’s how long it had been since luigi had seen you. not that he’d been counting, he was truly trying to be normal about the distance this time around.

he replays the morning after on a loop, searching for the slightest hint he’d done something wrong to no avail. as a matter of fact, your quiet body was beside him until deep into the afternoon, nothing but soft snores exchanged between the two of you. he wakes before you, kissing your forehead before taking his leave. his frat brothers whistle at him as he enters the wretchedly messy house, throwing him a water.

“happy new year, big guy,” one of them, hasan, greets. “did’ya spend your night thinking about new goals or scoring the same one?”

luigi rolls his eyes. “fuck off.”

another brother chimes in, bright-eyed. “when are we meeting her?”

“in your dreams.”

he had no intention of sharing you in any way; the thought of anyone else even looking at you irritated him. but starting the new year off by your side was far too great a fate to be stoic about. he grabs a plate of what’s left of their shitty communal breakfast (jar salsa from the night before, scrambled eggs, and two pieces of mostly burnt toast) and brings it into your room.

“y/n,” he calls out while entering. the door to the bathroom is now closed, and he sees your shadow shuffling around the room.

hesitant, the door creaks open. youre back in your black minidress, holding onto your heels. “hey, pretty.”

“hi,” you say tightly, the mistakes and soreness from the night before lingering in your mind. you’ve just wiped away the tears still streaked on your face, yet your ex-boyfriend hardly looks hungover.

“dressed up just for me?” he jokes, kissing your cheek. he offers you the plate of food but you shake your head.

“lacy’s waiting for me. i’ve got to go.”

“stay,” he says, his voice honey-sweet, like the boyfriend you knew months ago. it makes you feel sick, the familiarity of it all suffocating you. the room feels too small.

you push away from him. “i have to go.”

“baby,” he drops everything he’s holding to grab you again. “what’s wrong? is everything alright?”

he always blows your mind with his audacity. “no, everything’s not alright, luigi,” you spit back. “we shouldn’t have—none of that should’ve happened.”

“what do you mean?”

“luigi,” you sigh. “we’re over, alright? it’s done.”

“y/n—”

“i mean it,” you raise your voice so slightly, but still it breaks. “you cheated on me, then pulled all this shit, i can’t do it anymore.”

“you can’t do it anymore? are you serious?”

“yes!”

“you ignored me for weeks then showed up at my fucking party, dressed like that,” his voice was low, but angry. brows furrowed, he doesn’t lose his grip on you. it scares you. “you can’t tell me you weren’t bartering for my attention.”

“i wasn’t.”

his jaw sets. “then who’s?”

“oh my god. nobody’s!”

“don’t fucking lie to me—”

“lu, stop, seriously.” your voice trembles this time, and you both notice it. he drops your hand.

“i didnt mean to hurt you,” he says, soft at your upset. “i swear—i dont remember cheating on you. i’m not gonna mess up like that again, i promise.”

he leans in to kiss you, to seal the pledge with his gentle touch, but you pull back. “it doesn’t matter that you didn’t mean to hurt me—you did. you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.“

his big brown eyes bear into yours and he swears, “i can make it up to you.”

“luigi,” you hadn’t even realized you’d been crying until he brings his hands up to wipe your tears away. “i just don’t think this is a good idea, i’m sorry.”

“come on,” he says, frowning. “i love you. only you.” his lean-in to kiss you is successful this time. the kiss feels much better—softer—than last night’s. he’s gentle with his desperation, intent on making you stay. “‘m sorry, okay?” he says between kisses. “let me make it better.”

“no, luigi, we shouldn’t—”

“you’ve got to hear me out, y/n,” he takes your lips again. his hot kisses move down your neck—and it all feels so different this time around. even the air in the room feels lighter. his voice is against your ear when he swears, “i’ll be good to you, sweetheart, i promise.”

saying no to him is near impossible—it’s why you shut yourself off of him for weeks, avoiding places he frequented, deactivating your social media, ignoring his constant stream of messages and calls. now, he has you, and within minutes, you’re pressed against the wall again.

“feels good?” he teases, grinding his hard-on into your core. you melt underneath him, you can’t help it, he’s so warm.

“lu,” you whimper. you’re still sensitive from how selfishly he took you the night before, you can’t help but react to his touch so quickly. it felt so raw.

“wait—” he never does. his hands are on your hips again, moving your body against his.

“just let me take care of you,” he says, trailing kisses down your neck again. this time, he was sure to leave marks.

he keeps the dress on this time. he places you back onto the bed, and as you gather the courage to take him in again, he moves beneath you.

“knew i recognized these,” his voice hot against the fabric of your panties.

you told yourself the lacy black panties were just meant to match the dress, but it all seemed so intentional—the party crash, the kitchen drive-by, the fact that you were wearing his valentines day gift. whether this was a manifestation of your greatest fear or desire, you couldn’t tell.

he kisses your thighs, then runs his tongue against your core through the fabric of your panties before ceremoniously ripping them off. he kisses and sucks at your wetness. you tremble at the suddenness of his movement. his big nose is so prominent in your pussy, you can’t help but grind yourself against his perfect face and whine as he drinks you in.

“you’re such a fucking mess,” luigi says, smiling into your warmth. his unshaven stubble tickles your sensitive cunt, sending a tremor through you. “so wet, i’ve barely even touched you.”

“i can’t help it,” you whimper.

he grabs your ass, pulling you closer to his relentless mouth. it’s ridiculous how good he feels. he’s completely shameless in his endeavor to ruin you.

“look at me,” luigi orders, so you do. you look down to see him, finding that he’s already gotten to touching himself. his hard length at the edge of the bed, furiously red, as he strokes himself. “i think about you everyday,” he admits in between licking at your core. “i missed how this pretty pussy tasted. i missed having you like this. holding you down so you can’t squirm away. missed hearing you beg.”

you’re almost there, fidgeting underneath his hands. “luigi, please. it’s too much.”

“you’ve taken worse,” he growls into you.

he feels like he’s on fire. one hand moves up and down along his cock fervently, while the other lends itself to fingering your frothing pussy. you mewl at the sudden entry, back arching.

“luigi,” you whine. “please.”

“i’m trying to do a nice thing for you, y/n,” he hums, “but you want me to be selfish, hm? want me to take you?”

“yes,” you say, breathless.

“fuckin’ slut,” he grumbles, pulling himself away from your wet cunt. he grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. “what d’you want from me, huh?”

“want you.”

“course you do,” luigi says, surprising you with hard slaps against your sensitive clit. you cry out at the sensation, the unfamiliar storm of bliss and torment, and he chuckles darkly. “you fuckin’ belong to me.”

he grabs your chin and forces you into another kiss, your wetness now staining you both. he lifts your leg up and slides himself back into your wet warmth. “you’re dripping,” he praises as he pounds into you. the exhilarating pain sets your senses alight, you grip onto him tighter without even realizing. “all for me, yeah?”

“all for you.” you nod. this is not how you expected this conversation to go. you writhe at how big he is, how hard.

“you can take it,” he grunts. he’s not fast, this time—his thrusts are agonizingly slow and tortuously deep—just as you think it’s all entirely too much, one hand grips your clothed tit, the other lifts to cradle your chin, forcing your lips to part open. he spits into your mouth. “swallow,” he orders.

you do.

“good girl,” he places sloppy, wet kisses along your jaw, your neck, then goes to bite at your tits. “so fuckin’ pretty.”

“i thought about you too,” you admit sheepishly, out of your mind. he looks up at you, raises his eyebrows, urging you to go on. “i missed you.”

to your surprise, he scoffs. “fuckin’ bitch.” he suddenly loses the interest in being gentle with you, returning to your body rough and angry. his fingers massage against your clit, unraveling you. “you’re just as crazy as i am, you know that? running around town like you don’t belong to me. like you don’t touch yourself late at night thinking about this cock. wishing those fingers were half as good as mine, huh? fuckin’ idiot.”

“luigi,” you cry out. was this him being nice?

“be a good girl f’me,” he grunts. he feels you pulse around his cock and drives into you with even more force. “cum all over me, baby. have my fuckin’ kids.”

“luigi,” you mewl again, desperate for release.

“come on, pretty, show me how good it feels.”

his lips return to yours, hot wet and desperate, as he cums inside of you. you’re a complete mess—squirming and whimpering as you unravel onto his cock, he catches your moans with kisses and leaves you shaking underneath him.

“good girl,” he hums, kissing your forehead.

for a fleeting moment, the two of you are perfect. everything feels just right. he slips into the spot beside you, the disarray of tangled sheets forgotten as he pulls you into his warmth. you sink into the nape of his neck, and though there are no more words spoken, the air is thick with an undeniable love, quiet but all encompassing.

but when he stirs awake, reaching for you, all that lingers is the soft, fading smell of your spring perfume.

send requests ! <3

[shhtickerbook]

Baby Feathers

Merry Christmas!

(Helluva Age regression ficlet that takes place post sinsmas)

I don’t see enough fics that have caregivers who want to try regressing!!! So I decided to fill that void and the soul destroying events of sinsmas gave me lots of agere fodder. have a lovely holiday everybody!!! Fic below!

Stolas had everything planned. It was new years Eve and both Stolas and Blitzø had the holiday just to themselves. Millie and Moxxie were spending the holiday with Millie’s family in Wrath, whilst Loona was going to another party at Beelzebub’s. Stolas had spent many a New Year’s Eve at insufferable galas, but there had always been one silver lining. Both himself and Via would slip away from the ball, where the two would sit on the roof of their mansion and watch the first new year’s moon come to rise. He still hadn’t realised that this would be the first year where they wouldn’t be able to share their tradition. He couldn’t stop thinking of Octavia, their last interaction cruelly playing on loop in his mind. His heart was breaking with every second, but at least he had Blitzø. If he hadn’t been grieving so painfully, maybe he’d be able to enjoy himself.

There was one aspect he found great comfort in though, and that was being able to take care of Blitzø. Over the past few months he’d been introduced to the Imp’s smaller side, which had taken a while for Blitzø to open up about it properly. He was a pretty headstrong character, and struggled s lot when it came to expressing any kind of vulnerability.

Stolas had actually found out by accident, with Blitzø regressing involuntarily after a bad night terror. Stolas’s heart had broke when he found his partner looking so afraid and vulnerable. Blitzø wasn’t able to really explain what was happening, but Stolas was already a parent, it was second nature to know how to comfort little ones after a bad dream. The next morning Blitzø had explained what happened, sometimes he found himself slipping younger in age, usually when he was stressed or was reminded of bad things. Especially since he lost his mother, she was the only person who treat him with gentle nurturing care. When he lost her, he never got to feel that again. So when he began to have these episodes, it became a part of himself he had to hide out of shame.

For a long time he continued to suppress this side of himself, pushing away all these childish longings. But he could only hold it back for so long until his body decided for him. When he did find out, Stolas was almost too supportive of it, finding this side of Blitzø absolutely darling. Lavishing him with toys, clothes and all kinds of things he never even considered trying. Stolas even found himself getting a lot out of caring for him too, it made him feel needed.

-

Blitzø had to admit that it felt great to not hide this side of him anymore. Stolas had officially seen every episode of that pony show, and helped Blitzø brush the manes of every single horse figurine he owned. But ever since the trial, neither Blitzø or Stolas had the time or the mental energy to take come time to relax.

Stolas had felt so guilty that in his current state he hadn’t been able to care for Blitzø, and had even collected a set of gifts for him to open from Sinsmas. On the day itself he’d set aside his little gifts so that he wouldn’t have to open them in front of the others. So he’d made the decision to surprise him with a “little sinsmas” on new years, when they knew they’d have the house all to themselves.

Stolas woke up early to get out the gifts he had stored away. Thankfully he had purchased these before he’d lost all of his money and possessions. But when he did get up, he felt awful. The former prince had slept terribly, tossing and turning as he once again replayed what had happened with Via. He was then cursed with unpleasant dreams that only tortured him further. All he wanted was his daughter, but she wanted nothing to do with him.

Regardless of how he felt, he pushed himself through it, today was for Blitzø. The imp had done so much for him recently, he had to pay it back somehow. He quietly looked through Blitzø’s wardrobe in search of some of his little clothes, choosing an oversized hoodie with some colourful horse motifs. It even had an adorable woollen mane that went down the hood. Last of all he collected a plastic box at the bottom of the wardrobe, stolas recognising it. Inside Blitzø kept all of his baby things, pacifiers, some teethers and other equally adorable equipment. It was adorned with multiple stickers, all in the horse variety.

As he entered back into the main room, stolas began to gather some ingredients for breakfast. The plan was to make Blitzø some oatmeal for breakfast, which was simple enough. Blitzø always liked it drizzled with cherry syrup, and if he was feeling little enough he’d even let Stolas feed him.

Stolas carefully arranged the gifts wrapped in coloured paper by the tree, flicking on the fairy lights for added effect. He loved the small touches of sinsmas, indulging in the little details that made it feel magic. Blitzø had mentioned how sinsmas wasn’t really a special thing when he was a kid, the circus would perform through the whole holiday. Which included an extra special sinsmas day show which was very popular, but it meant he never got to really enjoy the holiday.

He thought of a little blitz crouched by the tree, tearing open coloured parcels in glee. You couldn’t help but smile. As a final touch, he pulled the blinds open to let the light in. Such a simple action turned into a huge mistake. As Stolas glanced outside, his gaze was caught to the horizon. Peeking just through the clouds was the new moon, only barely visible. By tonight it would be hanging at the peak of the sky, even in daylight it was beautiful.

How could something so beautiful destroy him so painfully? Stolas remembered everything, his special tradition with his daughter. He thought of Octavia, sitting alone and watching the moon rise. The way she spat her words towards her father, looking like she genuinely despised him. Who was he kidding? It didn’t look like he hated him, she did hate him. Stolas just sank to the floor, his beak quivering as he felt tears building in his eyes. It was all too much. All he wanted was to hold his daughter in his arms again, but would that ever happen again?

she hated him.

she HATED him.

-

Blitzø turned over in bed, dozily reaching over into the empty space of his bed. He’d gotten so used to sleeping next to somebody again, so when he didn’t feel any feathers in his grasp, it pulled him out from his snoozing.

“Mmme- Stolas?”

He mumbled, eyes fluttering open. As suspected, Stolas wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Pushing himself up onto his elbow before rubbing his eyes, recently Stolas had been the one who stayed in bed. Blitzø would usually let him sleep in for as long as he needed, sometimes leaving a note if he had to leave for work.

With a yawn Blitzø pulled himself up, before hearing something from outside the room. It took him a second to realise in his sleep addled state, but he could clearly hear a sadly familiar sound of crying. Within a second he’d jumped from the bed and thrown open the door.

“Stolas? are you okay?”

In hindsight it was a pretty stupid question, especially when he found said bird on the floor of his sitting room. He was curled in on himself, sobbing bitterly. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of what he’d been like when Octavia had rejected him.

“Hey hey- what’s going on?”

Blitzø joined him on the floor, resting a hand over Stolas’s shaking back. Stolas flinched at the touch at first, but couldn’t help but fall into Blitzø’s hold. Blitzø could feel Stolas’s feathers quivering as he tried to control his sobbing. The Imp couldn’t help but notice that a lot of his little stuff was scattered across the room.

His box of pacifiers and that one hoodie he liked to wear, there were also some new gifts under the tree.

“I had planned to- I’m sorry, i just wanted to make today special for you.”

Stolas whimpered, feeling like he’d ruined everything. He thought he would feel better today, if he got to care for Blitzø. But right now owl felt as fragile as glass, but Blitzø held onto him tight and securely. It clicked as he realised what Stolas had been trying to do, his expression softening.

“Oh stolas, it’s okay.”

“It’s not! All I’ve done is mope around and you’ve had to do everything for me. Not to mention the money you’ve spent and the time I’ve taken up. I had it all planned, you deserved a break-“

It took him a little time to string together his response, tears continuing to dribble down his feathers. He felt pathetic, how was he going to care for a regressed Blitzø when he was this much of a mess? It furthered his suspicion that was just a complete failure when it came to any kind of caregiving.

“Stolas listen to me, it’s okay. It’s.. really sweet you thought of this.”

Blitzø gently tilted his beak to meet his face, the tearstained bird’s expression tugging something on his heartstrings. He looked around, spotting the half made breakfast and carefully arranged presents. All the effort he’d made, for him no less.

“I don’t deserve you.”

He chuckled, managing to pull the lanky heap of owl closer into his lap the best he could. His statement seemed to reactivate Stolas tears though, who cried intelligibly into his chest. It was the other way around, it was Stolas that didn’t deserve him.

Whilst Blitzø still wasn’t entirely sure on what had triggered this, it didn’t take an idiot to know it was related to Octavia. In the time Blitzø had known Stolas, he’d never seen him like this. The Goetian Prince was so broken, fragile. But thankfully Blitzø had some experience in that feeling already.

He let him cry it out for a few minutes, with the shoulder of his shirt becoming very wet. He ran his fingers up and down Stolas’s feathers, gently preening him as he murmured comfort. The sobs eventually died down into sad sniffling, but the grip around him still hadn’t broken. Although Stolas’s heart was breaking, Blitzø’s grip around him was at least keeping said shards in place.

As Blitzø rubbed his back, he was hit with a sudden idea. He felt a little guilty that Stolas had gone through all this trouble for him, especially as he wasn’t feeling anywhere near small. And as much as he cared for Stolas, he couldn’t fake his regression either. Anyways, he didn’t feel like he was the one need in comfort right now.

“Hey, here’s an idea. I know we’ve never talked about this before, but what if you let me take care of you today?”

Stolas stirred a little with a frown, peeling his crispy feathered face away from Blitzø’s chest.

“What do you mean?”

“You take care of me when I’m feeling low, why not let me baby you for once? You’re lookin’ like you need it.”

The more Blitzø thought about it, the more he wanted to give it a try. There was something about the forlorn bird in his arms that melted his heart a little. Was this how Stolas felt with him? Nah, he couldn’t he this cute.

“No, you’re my baby. I care for you, I care for people- it’s what I like to do.”

Stolas suddenly felt flustered, face lighting up bright red. He’d never even considered the idea of swapping roles before. Blitzø was his baby, never the other way around. He wasn’t sure if it felt right to him, he wanted to be the one caring for Blitzø.

“Yeah, and you do a great fuckin job at it. So why not let me return the favour, you might even like it?”

Blitzø teased as he gently pinched the owls red cheeks, already delighting in the idea. Stolas found himself wavering a little, especially with how shivery and weak he was. He looked over at the gifts guiltily, but Blitzø already had it covered.

“Look we could try it today, if you don’t like it, we’ll stop. We can save the gifts for tomorrow, and then you can have your turn babying me, sound okay?”

Blitzø sounded so sure that Stolas found it hard to disagree. Although it still felt very alien, he definitely appreciated this cuddling part right now. So in the end gave a defeated shrug, Blitzø’s face lighting up.

“You just relax and let me take care of everything, feathers.”

Stolas shook for a second, before burying his beak into Blitzø’s shoulder again. Fresh tears erupted seemingly for no specific reason. But this time there was a sense of catharsis that came with it, to be able to cry in safety. Was this how Blitzø felt when Stolas would comfort him whilst small? He hoped so, as it felt pretty damn good.

Blitzø began to rock him back and forth, kissing the crown of his feathers. He gave him a few more minutes to cry, Stolas had been forcing himself into long periods of numbness recently and clearly needed it. Eventually Blitzø shifted Stolas to the side a little, who whined at the movement.

“Lemme just move ya onto the couch, I can’t feel my fuckin’ legs anymore.”

With quite a bit of effort, Blitzø managed to lift the bird onto the couch. Unfolding the blanket over the armrest and tucking it around his skinny frame. Whilst no longer sobbing, Stolas had been reduced to the awkward hiccupy stage. Blitzø told ahold of his hand, squeezing softly to get his attention.

“Hey try and breathe a little, in and out.”

The imp demonstrated, and Stolas tried his hardest to follow. But he found himself falling back into the unhelpful gulping, even with Blitzø’s help.

“Here’s an idea.”

Blitzø turned and rifled through his little box, finding an unopened package. Blitzø himself still hadn’t used these ones as he didn’t like the colours. Stolas turned to see what Blitzø was doing, with his pupils pin-pricking when he spotted it. In his hands was a package of pacifiers, a pack of three different shades of lilac to dark blue.

“You’re doing a shitty job at breathing right now, try one of these. You’ll have no choice but to breathe a little slower.”

He spoke so casually, holding out a dark blue pacifier. Stolas had seen this kind of item many, many times now. But now when it was being presented to him, rather from him? It felt a little scary. Blitzø watched as stolas internally fought with himself, rolling his eyes.

“Cmon, open that beak for me, feathers.”

He used the pet name for the second time, which made Stolas melt a little. As if beyond his control he held his beak open, Blitzø placing the pacifier there before he could change his mind.

The sensation was certainly strange at first, the bird wasn’t really sure what to do with it. But his body was still hellbent on breathing hard, so he focused on trying to breathe nasally instead. Without realising he began to suck on the bulb, and breathed in and out. If it hadn’t been such sad circumstances, Blitzø would’ve definitely taken a photo. It was just too fucking cute. Instead he joined Stolas on the couch, still demonstrating his breathing in time to Stolas’s.

“Feels good doesn’t it?”

Stolas looked up at him lazily, his was face a little red self consciously. But he couldn’t lie, the rhythmic sensation of the pacifier was incredibly soothing. With each minute he understood just why Blitzø liked them so much. There was a cloudy fuzzy sensation in his head, one that forced him away from all the sad and scary feelings. It was a blissful escape, but it wasn’t numbing him the way his pills used to.

So he nodded at his partner, squeezing his hand back tight. They spent the next twenty minutes just cuddling, and Stolas honestly felt the calmest he had in months. Blitzø eventually had to pry the owl off of him to sort out breakfast, turned on the TV for Stolas. He considered what to put on, before setting on an incredibly corny fairytale movie about a princess. But it was worth it to see the way Stolas’s eyes lit up when it came on.

Blitzø made himself a cup of coffee, and poured one of Stolas’s weird fancy teas into one of his own sippy cups. Choosing the moonlight unicorn design, after forcing stolas to watch every episode of his horse show, Stolas had eventually chosen his favourite character. When he returned to the couch, Stolas shuffled over to curl into his chest again. The pacifier still hasn’t left his beak since placing it there, he looked undeniably adorable. Blitzø was just so happy to see him looking content for the first time in days. The two could just spend their day with each-other’s company, enjoying every moment.

-

Neither demon even made it to the end of the movie, the two of them passed out in a tangle of limbs. The bird with his head curled underneath Blitzø’s chin, the imp’s hand subconsciously still stroking his feathers. Blitzø had gotten so used to himself being the baby in their relationship, that he’d never considered how much he’d enjoy swapping places. The remainder of their day continued in a similar fashion, Blitzø leading Stolas along in hand. And to his surprise Stolas was a very quiet little, who didn’t speak much for the rest of the day.

It was different than when he was quiet when he was sad though, Stolas would still giggle if Blitzø said something funny and was clearly enjoying himself. Stolas just felt happy that he didn’t have to try and think of words right now, he could just be. He allowed Blitzø to dress him in some loose cuddly clothes, and even hand feed him little squares of pancake when he felt up to eating.

Blitzø loved learning more about this little side of him. And Stolas found himself embracing a part of himself he’d never even uncovered. They spent the day indoors, playing games and watching movies. In the evening when Blitzø was busy running a bath for him, Stolas couldn’t help but glance outside. The moon was beginning to rise in the early evening, himself and Blitzø agreed to head to bed before midnight. The whole new year’s celebration never interested him too much, he really only ever used it as an excuse to get wasted.

Stolas pulled the pacifier from his beak and dropped it to the floor. Feeling the fog of his small space drift away, he took in a deep breath. Slipping outside onto the balcony, he dared himself to look up at the moon. Giving anything just for one more moment with Octavia, wondering what she was doing right now.

“I know you hate me, and that you can’t even hear me- But I love you so very much.”

He spoke to himself quietly, not breaking eye contact with the rising moon. Hoping that just maybe Octavia could somehow get the message. He stayed there for a little while, not even realising the slow tears dripping down his face until he felt a hand on his. Blitzø didn’t say anything, he stood aside the Owl for a while until he stirred from his trance.

“I got your bath ready, even added a bunch of those bath nukes you like.”

“Bath bombs- you mean.”

Stolas couldn’t help but correct, although he still sounded sad. Blitzø held onto his hand and lead him back inside, finding the pacifier abandoned on the floor.

“Hey you still want this buddy?”

He held it up, unsure if Stolas was feeling completely big again. The owl looked at the object, clearly considering it. He watched the Imp as he stared up at him with genuine adoration. Instead of a verbal response, he just took the pacifier back and allowed himself to sink back into that comforting headspace. The Goetian prince stood tall above Blitzø, and to any old person they must’ve looked ridiculous. But Blitzø looked up at the tall owl and only saw a little baby bird, one that was in desperate need of some love and care.

“Cmon then baby feathers, I have a whole collection of rubber duck horses just waiting to play with ya-“

Merry Christmas y’all ❤️❤️❤️

[piastrw]

this was supposed to be out on christmas as a gift, but i couldn’t finish it in time. so, here’s a snippet 🤲🏻

(carcar | omegaverse | pwp)

-

Oscar’s thoughts are a tangled, messy knot, slipping out of his control and spiraling into something uncomfortably raw.

He doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t know how to breathe properly with Carlos like this in front of him—shirtless, tousled hair, tanned skin.

The hair. It’s everywhere—dusting his chest, thicker down the defined ridges of his stomach, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

It’s almost too much, Oscar thinks, his breath hitching as his eyes dart lower. He’s trying not to stare, but his gaze catches on the flex of Carlos’s arms as they shift.

The way his hands—big, rough, just as hairy—press into Oscar’s thighs, squeezing, leaving behind faint pink blooms where they grip too tight.

It sends a spark of something sharp and electric straight through Oscar’s nerves, and he swallows hard, throat dry.

He doesn’t know when this obsession started. This itch. This constant pull toward Carlos that’s lodged itself under his skin and refuses to leave him alone.

He thinks about Carlos’s hands more than he should, about how it feels to have them gripping his hips, his wrists, his neck. He thinks about how it’s been a while since they’ve been—

Well.

Not together-together.

They’re fucking. Exclusively, sure, but without any real label. Just sex. At least that’s what they’ve been telling themselves.

His mum would have a field day if she knew. Probably sit him down for one of her classic lectures about what a proper omega should do—courting, dates, a respectable bonding ceremony.

Oscar was raised to do things the right way. He used to believe in that. But Carlos makes him reckless. Carlos makes him stupid. Carlos makes him feel like his head’s full of static and his body’s not his own anymore.

Carlos shifts again, pulling him from his thoughts. His hands tighten on Oscar’s thighs, thumbs brushing up the sensitive inside, and Oscar shudders.

Can’t stop staring at the way Carlos looks like this—half-wild, all heat, and so comfortable in his own skin it makes Oscar dizzy.

Carlos catches him staring, of course he does, because Oscar has never been subtle a day in his life. A knowing smirk curls at the corner of his mouth.

“You like what you see, cariño?” Carlos asks, teasing. His accent wraps around the words, making Oscar’s stomach twist.

Oscar flushes, his cheeks burning a deep pink. He looks away, embarrassed, but Carlos doesn’t let him. One of those big hands grips his jaw tilting his face back so their eyes meet.

“Don’t get shy now,” Carlos murmurs. He leans in, his breath warm against Oscar’s cheek, his other hand sliding higher up Oscar’s thigh.

Oscar whines and Carlos grins, sitting back on his heels.

It’s always like this.

Oscar gets too caught up in his head, too worked up, all hot skin and trembling limbs. Carlos loves it. Loves the way the omega comes undone so easily under his hands, lets himself melt into a puddle for him. Let Carlos take care of everything. Of him. It makes Carlos’ Alpha swell with pride.

Carlos’s fingers trace the waistband of Oscar’s panties, making Oscar squirm. The little white lace number is soft under his fingers, all delicate edges and a tiny bow at the center.

And that’s another thing Carlos loves about Oscar. He goes around dressed like such a boy—those awful shorts, plain team shirts that don’t fit quite right. No sense of style to speak of.

But underneath, Oscar always likes to be pretty.

Carlos bites back a groan, his thumb brushing over the lace. He adores this—peeling back those unremarkable layers to find something so sweet and delicate hidden underneath. It’s like unwrapping a gift every time.

But there’s something that makes it even prettier—the wet patch of slick, dripping out of Oscar and darkening the fabric.

“So wet,” Carlos murmurs, his thumb pressing down against the damp spot.

Oscar whimpers, squirming. “Your fault,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?” Carlos taunts, dragging his thumb down the lace. “Can’t help it, huh? You smell me, and suddenly you’re dripping for me.” He punctuates the words with a light slap to Oscar’s thigh.

Oscar doesn’t think he can get any redder than he already is. His face burns, heat pooling low in his stomach, and he wishes he could say something back, something biting, but nothing comes out.

Carlos shifts, leaning over Oscar’s face now, his body caging him in. He kisses him and Oscar melts instantly, his hands tangling in Carlos’s thick, soft hair.

Carlos’s hands find their place on Oscar’s waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into his skin, drifting lower to brush over his tummy.

Oscar is pliant, boneless beneath him, completely overtaken by the way Carlos fills every one of his senses.

All he can think of is Carlos, Carlos, Carlos.

…

[smoky-lucine]

Close Call

Little sister!Reader

After a close call during a hunt, The Winchester brothers panic as Castiel heals you.

Injuries, angst

My second fic :) I'm still trying to get the hang of writing but hopefully you all enjoy :)

You and the boys have been working on a case dealing with werewolves. You managed to catch one and kill it, and he confessed there is a whole pack in town and now you need to find the rest of them. You and Sam stayed in the motel and studied up on werewolves while Dean and Cas went out to the recent attacks around the town.

You didn’t get a lot of sleep the last few nights, as the werewolf attacks were happening faster and faster, and the four of you have been out every night on watch for any leads. Sam nudges your shoulder, and your chin slips off your hand and you jolt awake.

“Everything alright?” Sam asks while he shuts the book you fell asleep reading and sits down next to you.

“I’m okay, just tired from being out so late last night.” You say, rubbing your eyes.

Dean calls Sam and he gives you a gentle smile before he answers the phone and puts the call on speaker.

“Hey Dean, did you find anything?”

“Yeah. One of the Officers was a werewolf. He told us where they’re all staying before we took him out. We’re gonna hit it tonight alright?” Dean explains and you hear Castiel in the background ordering food for the three of you.

“Sounds good to me. Did he say how many of them are staying there?” You reply

“Nope. By the looks of how many attacks there's been, I don’t think it would be more than 7 or 8.” Dean says confidently.

Sam keeps talking about the case with Dean and you start getting silver bullets and knives ready for the hunt.

Later that night the four of you are on the way to the werewolves hiding house in the Impala. Sam and Dean are having their own conversation in the front while you and Castiel talk in the back.

“Have you ever hunted werewolves before?” You ask Cas.

“A few times yes. Angels don’t usually deal with them. Have you?”

“Occasionally yeah. I haven’t seen them in a while though, not since we still hunted with dad.” You say looking away. You didn’t like talking about your dad anymore, nobody really did. “I haven’t practiced my shooting in a bit too.”

“I’m sure we got it kid.” Dean says to you looking in the rear view mirror. “It’s gonna be a small pack. It’s gonna be in and out.”

You give him a smile. You turn to yawn and look out the window for the rest of the ride.

The four of you get ready and watch the house waiting for Dean to decide when to go in.

“Alright. Sam and Cas you two go in the side door, Y/N and I will go through the front.”

You look at Dean surprised. He normally chooses Sam when splitting up and it would make sense here too.

“Are you sure Dean?” You ask him nervously. “Yes, I’m sure. Do you not want to go in? What’s wrong?” Sam looks at you knowing you're tired, but he knows you don't want to tell the truth to Dean.

“No, it’s okay.” You say quietly, walking away a bit and focusing back on the house. Everybody does one last look at each other before splitting up and breaking into the house.

Dean kicks the door down and you both run in aiming separate ways. You hear Dean shoot a werewolf down and he turns to check on you in the now empty room. You can hear the other wolves in the house warning the others and running to defend against the four of you. You run up to the doorway, calling it clear and Dean runs into the kitchen with you following.

Making your way through the house, you and Dean each take down a few werewolves, and eventually meet up with Sam and Cas. The upstairs is still loud with werewolves running and escaping. You all say how many you took down and quickly realize there are at least triple the number of werewolves than Dean previously thought.

“But that doesn’t make sense. How can there be so many??” He says reloading his gun and looking around the room.

You responded “The attacks were happening faster and faster. I guess they don’t want to be careful anymore.” You focus on reloading your gun when you hear a growl.

You turn and see a werewolf sprinting at you and tackles you, losing all air in your lungs and dropping your gun. It claws at your stomach, leaving a huge gash. You quickly start seeing stars and your vision starts clouding, black slowly starting to take over. Coughing and screaming out you hear multiple gunshots and the werewolf dying.

Sam and Dean run up to you, eyes shocked at your injury.

“She’s really hurt.” Sam says, tearing up trying to get your eyes to focus.

“Sammy we gotta get her out of here.” Dean says loudly and begins to pick you up, flinching when he hears you cry out in pain. “There’s too many wolves here we need to leave.”

Dean runs as quickly as possible to Baby, putting you in the backseat. He throws the keys to Sam and yells "Drive!!” Castiel gets in the passenger seat and Sam runs to the driver’s seat and quickly starts the car, driving away from the house.

Dean holds you in the backseat trying to keep himself composed as he talks to you. “It’s okay Y/N. It’s gonna be okay alright? I’m so sorry I should’ve paid more attention. Look at me Y/N, open your eyes.” He begins to panic and yells at Sam to drive faster.

“We need to get far enough away; Cas needs to heal her.” Sam says speeding down the road.

You slip in and out of consciousness and wake up to Dean crying over you, and Sam and Cas yelling in worry. The three boys can’t stand hearing you scream in pain. You pass out and when the car is suddenly silent, Sam pulls over quickly as he and Castiel rush out of the car to reach you in the back seat.

“Cas, heal her.” Dean says solely focused on holding you still. Sam holds your hand as Castiel puts his hand on your stomach. His hand emits a bright white glow and Sam and Dean look away.

You wake up in the motel room. You look around at the quiet room and see Castiel in the corner staring at you.

“You're awake.” He says walking up to you. “I healed you. You’ve been asleep for a couple days, Sam finally got Dean to leave and eat.” You lift your shirt and there isn't a single scratch on your abdomen.

Castiel helps you sit up and hands you a bottle of water. “Your physical injuries are healed, but your body is tired. I could tell you haven’t slept in a few days.”

You drink the water and hand it back to Castiel. “Yeah, those night watches have been pretty hard. I appreciate you healing me and staying with me.” You give him a small smile and he gives you one in return and lets you rest longer.

Sam and Dean come home and seeing you sitting up in bed they run up to you. Dean hugs you tightly and when you yelp in surprise he lets go, scared you were somehow still injured. “Kid, I was so scared. I thought we lost you.” he says kneeling beside the bed, looking at you.

Sam gives you a big hug before climbing into the other side of the bed and letting you lean into his side. “It was really scary Y/N. I’m so relieved we got you healed in time.”

“I’m really sorry guys.” You say tearing up. “I haven’t slept in days, and I really wanted to help fight them, but I know I should’ve stayed back.”

Dean grabs your hand, “Y/N this isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have put that pressure on you, and I should’ve stuck to the plan. Please don’t blame yourself.”

You all sit there quietly talking to each other until you slowly fall asleep and get more rest.

[frostedshore]

Frostedshore’s struggles. I am not fine, it took me a while to admit that, and it’s ok.

tw: religion, leaving faith, leaving islam, loss of interest in hobbies, depression

i debated abt sharing my experience here, since this is just a simblr account & this is a heavy subject matter. but i guess i really need as much support as i can get. i see many simblr sharing their irl stuff here too & getting support & i love that for us🥹

I am the first generation in my family who left islam. I am basically disowned now, and i am a lil nervous abt the fact i won’t get inheritance in this crazy economy🤣 but i think standing on my ground is more important than money, because as elphaba said “if that's love, it comes at much too high a cost”. Islam will effect my everyday life even to the tiniest detail about how I dress. You need to understand i’m highly allergic to hijab due to my skin type. I spend millions indonesian dollars just going to the doctor to fix skin problems when the doctor said my problem will go away if i dont use the hijab😭 also i feel nauseus working out wearing the hijab bc the fabric is tightly wrapped around my head & neck to the point i’m dizzy & want to vomit due to overheating & constriction. Did i mention that i was obese before i take off my hijab? Yeah i never wanna work out when i was still wearing my hijab & i lost 20kg after i take my hijab off & can exercise at the gym without it. I don’t think it’s fair that i’m considered weak & sinful & need to endure such burden just to pass god’s test😭

This post is not intending to spread islamophobia, but i’m just sharing my experience of leaving a religion. ANY religion. Especially if you’ve been a devout like I am. I spent 23 years of my life practicing islam, praying, fasting, etc. I started wearing the hijab before i even reach female “baligh” (9 years old) which is an islamic standard where all of our good & bad deeds are being recorded by angels & we must do all islamic obligations such as fasting, praying, covering or else we’ll go to hell (men’s “baligh” starts at 15 years old so women start our baligh sooner which i also think isn’t fair.) i took off my hijab when i was 20 (which create a lot of backlash from friends & family). back then i still think what i’m doing (taking off my hijab) is sinful & i fly all the way to mecca for umrah because i want to give it my all & repent completely.

I will accept islam fully if i can, and i WANTED to. Nobody who really WANTS to love a religion will choose to doubt & eventually left like me. I tried my best & shed countless tears. I even talked to islam feminists (authors, lecturers, and master of quran) but i’m still not satisfied abt all of my questions (it’s not only hijab who push me away, it’s a whole bunch of things that i doubted & never really got answers.) i just CAN’T have the islamic lifestyle anymore.

i eventually left my religion this year, just months after my umrah, because even after prostrating in front of kaaba, I still have doubt. And so I converted to Christianity. My christian friends all celebrated christmas with their own respective families. Even my ex-muslim friends from church celebrated christmas with their boyfriend’s family. It’s just a really isolating time for me because I left my religion before truly building a new support system for myself. I should’ve left when I already snatch a christian boyfriend/ have many single ex-muslim friends😂 Starting from zero is hard. And I feel really depressed abt it to the point of not enjoying the sims & my life anymore. But i rewatched The Lion King yesterday & damn mufasa’s dialogue abt remembering who we are rlly hit home. I’ve changed because I was not okay, and it’s ok. I can’t wait until I can rise from my sadness and become my old self who’s beautiful, kind, and loved (altho i lost many people who love me due to this decision & it’s hard to believe that i’m loved when that happens. I always get the toxic thinking that i’m being punished for liberating myself from islam, even after suffering for so long). Pray for me y’all & sorry to vent in such a happy season such as christmas🥹

If you have similar problems, my dm is open for you🤍 hugs all the way across the globe. Remember that we all are queens despite our depression that changed us to a version we dislike! I have personally know how it feels to lose everything, losing best part of me until what’s left is just a part of me that i dislike (shameful, regretful, guilty, etc.) You can still be who you want to! What you said you were! And start again!

ps. If you’re muslim, i’m not open to be lectured & told that i don’t understand the religion. You don’t know me & know how much i studied islam to come to the decision to leave islam. I’m not weak for not being able to live up to what i think is impossible standards. Pls respect my boundaries🤗 i still have love for my muslim friends & i’ll forever pro-choice despite what i personally feel about hijab. Nobody should be harassed for their choice to wear something. If you’re wearing one & find peace in islam, i support you🤍 anything to make you the best version of yourself!☺️

[wynnerwynner]

𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐋

jacaerys velaryon x fem!cregan's sister!reader

when Y/N returns home to winterfell, she seeks her brothers' approval to marry the targaryen prince.

request: no

warnings: mention of character death, mild grief

wc: 1.8k

a/n: just a quick little jace imagine! although i'm not sure if it constitutes entirely as a jace imagine since there's more reader and cregan LOL

It was a wonder how the crypts of Winterfell could be considered an honorary place when it was so dank. Jonnel could not feel the cold anymore, but as Y/N looked up at his statue, she wondered how her brother was not rising from death simply to complain. He’d never been built for a place like Winterfell. Neither was she. That’s why she moved to Dragonstone and led a simple life selling sea glass to ignorant tourists. Or maybe it was to escape his shadow in the halls, or to escape his spirit still in the walls, knocking and banging through the servants corridors.

Hesitantly, Y/N placed her hand on Jonnel’s cold statue, lowering her head.

“He’d be proud of you.”

Y/N locked eyes with Cregan, walking towards her. He knelt beside her and stared up at Jonnel’s stone face.

“I have something to tell you,” she said carefully.

Cregan gazed at her.

“I befriended Prince Jacaerys—while at Dragonstone.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

Y/N chuckled, making him smile. “I love him.” When he didn’t react, she added, “He loves me.”

Cregan looked at their brother thoughtfully.

She licked her lips. “Say something or I may be sick all over Jon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I am,” she scoffed.

“These are treacherous waters, Y/N.”

“The Queen has inquired much into my married life. I believe she’s interested. She sees much of us.”

“She hasn’t sent me any letters,” he countered.

“I’m sure she will,” she consoled him. “She’s a little busy planning a war, Cregan.”

“Y/N, he’s not just any Prince,” Cregan looked at her. “He’s Rhaenyra’s son. Rumours are that he’s a…”

“I don’t care,” she snapped.

“Whatever rumours and heresy follow him, go to you too,” he replied calmly. “Your children would be considered an insult to the throne with the rumours of his legitimacy.”

Y/N removed her hand from her brother, clenching it in her lap, “I don’t care.”

“You can’t just say you don’t care!” his voice echoed off the walls.

Y/N turned to face him. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

Cregan stared at her.

“This is what father and mother wished for me,” she exclaimed. “To get married, to have children, like the perfect little Lady. I never thought I’d want this, but now I do and I want it with Jace.” Her brows furrowed and she stood, shaking her head. “You’re just angry because I have something good and you have the same old castle with the same old servants and the same old soldiers.”

Y/N fast-walked out of the crypts, leaving both her brothers in the cold underground.

***

“Enter.”

Y/N set down her quill as Cregan stepped through the door. After shutting it, he took a few steps in. Her eyes immediately locked onto the floor. 

“What’re you doing?” he wondered aloud.

“Writing to Jace,” she replied, jaw tense. “Lucerys Velaryon is planning a trip to speak with you. I’m letting him know he will be well looked after here.”

Cregan nodded thoughtfully.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” she began, teeth so tense they could crack. “I don’t think you’re angry I have different opportunities.”

“I’m not angry… though I am jealous.” Cregan sat in a chair near the burning hearth. “You’re right. You get to leave Winterfell and meet all manner of people whenever you choose and I get the same view I’ve seen since I was a babe. But that’s just my position. I am Lord whether I like it or not.”

“You could give it up,” she mumbled at her parchment.

“And give it to who? Benjen?”

Her eyes rolled. “Benjen would burn this place down.”

Cregan laughed, nodding. “He would.” He sighed. “Winterfell may be my hell, but it is also my home. I belong here. Clearly, you do not.”

After less than a second of sullen silence, he added, “Y/N, your Lord Brother demands you to look at him, please.”

She looked up at him, although still with a sour expression.

“I love Jace,” she mumbled.

“I know you do,” he said softly.

“You must let me go, Cregan,” her quill clacked against the table as she emphasized his name.

“I’m trying,” he sighed, rubbing his face. “I do not wish to see you forced onto a battlefield as a result of him.”

“Women who do not end up on a battlefield are put through childbearing,” she said. “That is our battlefield.”

Cregan nodded, “I have always been terrified at either thought.”

Y/N watched her brother as he stood.

“I will send a raven to Dragonstone… requesting the Prince to accompany his brother. It is integral the future King witnesses the army that will be fighting for him and his mother.”

***

By the Lord of Winterfell’s request, Y/N was in the Great Hall, dining alongside him. She had been up all night, anticipating Jace’s arrival, so she’d much rather have been in her bed. Although, she couldn’t complain too much as the Great Hall was closer to the gate than the Great Keep.

At the rattle of dishes, Cregan flinched.

“He’s here!” Y/N shouted, leaping from the bench and running for the door.

“Y/N,” he called. “Y/N!”

She ignored him, running out of the hall gleefully, skirts in her hands.

Servants and working men backed out of the way of her in the courtyard. It had been a long time since she ran amuck through the castle. She could almost feel her brother chasing after her.

 As she got to the courtyard of the southern gate, the wooden doors opened wide. While others bowed their heads, Y/N raced across the mud.

A smile broke out on Jace’s face as she came toward him.

Y/N leapt into his arms. The entirety of Winterfell was silent as they watched Jace and Y/N walk hand-on-arm across the courtyard, over to a glaring Cregan. She ignored the look of disapproval from him. She was much too excited to care.

“Apologies for the informalities of my dear sister,” Cregan said. “I assure you, she has been raised better than this.”

“No apologies necessary,” Jace smiled, glancing at her. He patted her hand hooked under his arm. “I believe she and I are long past formalities.”

Cregan nodded once, not willing to debate with the prince.

“Oh, relax, Brother,” she groaned. “He’s not going to bite your head off.”

“You have known the Prince for quite a while, Y/N. I have only just met him today. Prince Lucerys,” he bowed.

Lucerys nodded with a regal smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Stark.”

“Take us to your crypts,” Jace said. “We should like to pay our respects to your father.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

***

Y/N cracked the servants door as she listened in on her brother and Jace speaking by the hearth.

“Do you love ‘er?” Cregan said over the crackling fire.

“She makes me the best version of myself,” Jace answered. “She’s taught me to look at the world differently.”

“I didn’t ask how she makes you feel, I asked if you love ‘er,” her brother replied. “Y/N has always been able to make people feel important,” he mumbled. Cregan looked at his hands, rubbing them together.

“When our mother fell sick,” he added, “our father refused to leave her side. Shortly after she passed, so did he from the same. Overnight I not only became a lord and a warden, I became a father and mother to my brother and sister. I’ve raised them since they were ten and one. They were children.”

“You have another brother?”

Cregan’s eyes narrowed at him, “She never told you she has a twin?”

Jace shook his head.

“It is an indescribable pain when you lose your twin. I’m not surprised she never told you. She hasn’t spoken of him since his death.”

Cregan leaned back in his chair and looked Jace in the eyes.

“I say all of this because the love she feels for you could destroy her if it is not returned tenfold. You may be next in line for the throne, Jacaerys Velaryon, but you are nothing but skin and bones to me when it comes to my little sister. If you hurt her or do not love her, I will serve the Queen until the day of her death but the moment she takes her last breath I will not answer your summons.”

Jace looked to the fire, nodding.

“I love her,” he finally answered. “I’d take an arrow for her.”

“But would you take almost two million? Because that’s how many soldiers the Greens have.”

“Of course I would,” Jace looked at him, affronted. “I’d give my life if it meant she could safely stay out of this war.”

“If she takes your name she gains a target on her back.”

“She has a target even if she’s a Stark,” Jace argued. “She is a Lady of Winterfell and the Warden of the North’s sister. Everyone you love has a target on their back.”

“What can you do to protect her that I haven’t already?” Cregan’s voice became quiet, careful. He was assessing him. “She can be quite unwilling to listen to the reality of the world.”

“Y/N is reasonable,” Jace countered. “I believe she’s more understanding of reality than you or I. When you die, she does not become Lady of Winterfell or Warden of the North, she is expected to have her heir do that. She is luckier than us in the sense that she does not have as many expectations, so she may bend those rules.”

Cregan’s brows were furrowed in concentration.

“If I approve of this marriage, you must do everything to keep her alive and happy. You must lay down your life if it comes to it. She is all I have left, Jacaerys. I will never forgive you if she is put in harm's way.”

“I’d ruin my name—I’d strip my title if need be to bring her home safe to you. Whatever is necessary, I’ll do it,” said Jace.

Cregan stared at him.

“You're a good man, Jacaerys. And I hope you’ll make a good King, too.”

Jace nodded solemnly. “I will. For her, I will.”

“Scaring him off already, Brother?”

Jace’s head whipped to the doorway as she walked through.

“How much of that did you hear?” Cregan asked over his shoulder.

“I could say none of it, though you wouldn’t believe me,” Y/N squeezed Jace’s shoulder.

Cregan stared at his sister and the man she wished to marry. She saw him recognize the way Jace look at her and watched him sigh out of his nose.

“Your Highness, if I could have a moment alone with my sister…”

“Of course.”

When Jace left the room, she sat where he once was.

“He reminds me much of Jon.”

Y/N hesitated, then nodded. “He does.”

“Y/N if this is what you want… then I support you. I’m sure he would, too.”

She fought the tears pricking at her eyes. “Thank you, Cregan.”

[juandirection]

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[miiiwu]

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[camgoloud]

you ever just. become overwhelmed by a sudden out-of-nowhere wave of tenderness and affection and longing for reconnection directed towards someone to whom you no longer speak for Very Good Reasons

[willowfey]

starting to think maybe waking up with an anxiety stomachache every single morning and then needing to spend the entire day trying to get rid of said anxiety just to maybe have a few minutes in the evening of feeling relaxed before going to bed is perhaps not normal

[figofswords]

I want to know which octopath developer woke up and chose violence

[pinkstations]

I love women and I love Best Jeanist so really this just makes sense

[cozy-the-overlord]

Sometimes I think about how throughout Clone Wars “sir” was used as a non-gendered term — the clones always referred to Ahsoka and the other female Jedi as “sir” to the point that as a child I didn’t realize that “sir” was considered masculine (and sometimes still forget even today) — until the final season, the only season that Disney produced, where Rex suddenly starts calling Ahsoka “ma’am” for the first time.