#but everything you see here will be available

[russo-woso]

A long time || Leah Williamson x reader

Summary You’ve missed Leah and when you see her again, it doesn’t end how you thought it would.

Warning smut 18+, fingering, cunnilingus

You never thought you’d see her again.

But here she was standing in front of you.

It had been five years yet it was like time hadn’t aged her.

Her eyes identical to how you remembered them, her lips just as kissable, everything about her just as perfect as it used to be.

The last time you saw her, she was standing outside the terminal of Heathrow, waving with tears in her eyes.

Her eyes were filled with tears, her girlfriend - you - going to America for god knows how long.

As you waved goodbye to her, you felt it.

An underlying promise to always love each other, no matter the distance between you both - mentally and physically.

She’d understood why you were going.

Your grandma was sick and as the only family member available to care for her, you had to go back to your home country.

You’d tried, both of you, to make it work.

But with the time difference, busy schedules and a growing distance between the two of you, there was no choice but to let one another go.

It was hard at first, but as time went on, you slowly got through it.

You still loved her though, you knew that, most people around you daily knew that.

But you never thought you’d come face to face with her again.

You’d never see her again.

But as soon as you saw the blonde hair, the impeccable outfit and then her face, you knew it was her.

Leah was standing in front of you.

“Leah…” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leah’s hand instinctively went to the back of her neck, rubbing it awkwardly as she looked you.

“Hiya, Y/N.”

“Hi.” You said, attempting to smile but your face remained frozen. “You look well.”

“You do too.”

A silence grew became the two of you as you both stood, not knowing what to do.

“What makes you come to America?” You questioned, breaking the silence.

“Preseason friendly against Washington spirit. We won so we came to celebrate here - it was the closest club to the hotel.” Leah explained. “What are you doing in America?”

“I live here?” You said, a smile appearing on your face as Leah’s face reddened in embarrassment.

“I don’t know why I asked that. I knew you did.”

“I live just round the corner. This is my local club.” You said, Leah humming as she listened to you.

“So, how’s everything going?”

“Umm… everything’s okay. Im a teacher in an elementary school. I have a daughter now - she’s two.” You told Leah, her expression shocked as you mentioned your daughter.

“A daughter? Wow. Congratulations, you and your partner must—” Leah began but you quickly cut her off

“—no partner. She was the result of a one night stand. He didn’t pull out in time and well, Emilia was born nine months later.”

Leah’s heart raced at the thought of you being single.

“How about you? Any partner on the scene?”

“Nope. Unless football counts?” Leah joked, a small smile on her face. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“You’re celebrating with your team. I don’t want to keep you from them.”

“Can I please buy you a drink?” Leah repeated, a desperate look in her eyes.

“How can I say no when you used such good manners?” You teased

“Good.”

You don’t know how it happened.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was how hot Leah looked, but as soon as her lips touched yours, you knew she was gonna end up in your bed.

The two of you were hidden round a corner, away from the hustle of the club.

You were pushed up against a wall, Leah’s lips on your neck as you clawed at her back.

“Le…”

“Fuck, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed hearing you say my name. I��ve missed you.” Leah whispered in between kisses.

You let out a muffled moan as her teeth dug into your skin, her tongue soon soothing the pain.

“Your place?” Leah asked, not having to say anything else in order to make you understand.

“Yeah.” You whispered, a smile on both your faces as you realised what was to come.

You both made your way out of the club, a wave of fresh air hitting you as you walked along the pavement.

It wasn’t long before you were standing outside your apartment, Leah’s hand on your hips as she pushed you against the door.

Her lips were on yours in a matter of seconds, her tongue soon finding its way into your mouth.

“Wait… what about your daughter?” Leah asked, quickly pulling away.

“At my friend’s house. I need a break every now and then. Now keep kissing me.”

Leah didn’t need to be told twice, your lips connecting.

I’m between kisses, you managed to find your keys, opening the door before stumbling inside.

You dumped everything in the opening of your apartment, throwing your heels off as you pulled at Leah’s shirt, pulling her close to you and placing your lips on hers.

Leah guided you to the sofa, lying you down gently before hovering over you.

“Are you sure you want this?” Leah asked, her breath fanning against your face.

“I want this, Leah, I want you.”

“Good because I want you too.”

Within minutes, you were both naked, your clothes somewhere in your apartment.

Leah’s lips travelled down to your boobs, her tongue nipping at your nipples as you pulled at her hair gently.

Once she was content, she continued moving downwards until her mouth was in line with your entrance.

She didn’t waste anytime, too desperate to feel you, to taste you, to make love to you.

Her tongue swiped through you folds, a moan falling from her lips as she took in your taste.

“Fuck you taste as good as I remember.”

Her tongue lapped at your folds, moans falling embarrassingly loudly from your mouth.

She moved to your clit, sucking and nipping gently at it.

“Right there, le. Fuck! Feels so good.”

She brought her middle finger to your entrance, slowly pushing into you as she continued to lick your clit.

Your legs began to shake with the added pleasure of her finger.

She thrusted into you quickly - with purpose.

“Le, I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop.”

“Never, darling.”

Her finger found your sweet spot, continuously pounding into it as your body shook with pleasure.

“Le!” You cried, your orgasm crashing over you.

Leah guided you through your orgasm, helping you ride it out before resting her head on your chest.

You kissed her forehead gently as she cuddled you.

Whether it be the alcohol, the sex or the whole situation, the two of you were knocked out in a matter of minutes.

The stress and realisation of what just happened could wait till the morning.

Meanwhile at the club, the Arsenal girls searched high and low around the building looking for Leah.

“Are we gonna have to call the police?”

[erodasfishtacos]

F*cking Sellout - NFL!H Part II

prompt: the morning in the hospital trudges up a lot of good and bad memories.

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: angst, brief mention of nausea/throwing up

author's note:

I upload a piece of writing every 1-2 days.

There are multiple other parts of this up and will be updated this month

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2

one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

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you can check it out here

first ten to click here can get a free $5 membership for a month!

-> NFL collection <-

Harry is awoken to his phone vibrating in his pocket.

For a moment, he is completely disoriented and doesn’t have a clue where he is.

He had been in a deep sleep, when his eyes crack open and he sees that it’s a hospital bed, the first thought is that he had injured himself during the game and was now getting treatment.

It has happened quite a few times over his career, where the on-site trainers couldn’t mend his injury, and he had to go get evaluated at the hospital but never to where he didn't remember the journey there.

But there’s a heavy warmth on his chest, blinking down, it’s fucking jarring to see his high school sweetheart laying across him like she owns him - like nothing has changed in three long years.

There’s a familiarity, that’s not even that right word because it’s stronger than that, to their bodies because they’d been together for eight years.

They had been each other’s first everything from kiss to heartbreak and those were memories that would never be forgotten.

As he stared down at her, he couldn’t get over how pretty she was.

The bruising on her face was absolutely gnarly but it didn’t do anything to hide what was underneath all of it.

A beauty that he would never get over, and through the eight years, he never got used to being with someone who looked like her.

But more importantly, who was as smart, kind, empathic, and downright funny.

Harry had been on PR dates, actual dates, and slept with a few models.

A lot of it was boredom, most of it was, and he didn’t like who he was when he had these random hookups.

He’d been in a serious relationship up until his senior year of college.

He had never cheated or been unfaithful in anyway which meant going into the NFL was a new experience in so many different ways.

The way he projected up as one of the best football players in the league had people drawn to him like he had some magnetic pull.

It was like that in high school and college, but it was easy to dodge any advances from interested individuals because YN was constantly at his side, they didn’t have time or the privacy with him to even get close enough to flirt.

++

Harry was desperately searching for YN in the group of sweaty, drunk college students in the backyard of the frat.

It was a massive party where the boys had strung up cheap fairy lights in rows, set up cornhole boards, and multiple tables for a beer bong championship (Harry always won).

If YN was clung to Harry’s side like a koala, then it was vice versa.

Teammates had made comments in the past, ‘isn’t annoying that she never leaves your side during the parties? Never have any room to breathe.’

He loved the lack of air, the suffocation, if that meant he was constantly accompanied by her.

Never through all the years of their relationship had he ever wanted distance, he never felt overwhelmed or smothered by her - she had always been his safe person.

But the teammates also didn’t see the flipside of that.

When YN wasn't by his side at parties, he was seeking her out, and saddling up to whatever conversation that she was in if he felt like he could without intruding like a prick of a boyfriend.

They didn’t see that when she had gone off to talk to someone else for too long, Harry would find her with a pout and mumble, “Missed you.”

Despite whom Harry was, the face of the football team, the winner of the Heisman trophy, and getting scouted by NFL teams since he was in high school - he had severe social anxiety.

All the attention was fear-inducing for him, he hid it well for interviews but off-the-field, he hated the large crowds, the random people that wanted to hug and talk to him, and the amount of social interaction that he had to have on the day-to-day.

It was constantly a lot for him to process, YN helped, she was always his safe point that he could come back to when his anxiety started to elevate, and she knew every single time how to make it better.

Harry was starting to get the quickening heart rate, the party was loud, everyone was exceptionally drunk, and it was hot outside - enough that the curls peeking out from under his backwards snapback were starting to wilt onto the nape of his neck.

His management team had pretty much forced him into the frat without choice, stating that it would be absurd for the face of the football team to not have a spot in the most desired fraternity on campus, and crushing his dreams of sharing an off-campus apartment with YN.

She was understanding, supportive but he wasn’t blind to the sacrifices she’s made for their relationship since they were fifteen.

Harry much preferred YN’s quiet, single suite that shared a kitchen with three other individual suites.

All of her suitemates were nice, school-oriented girls who were in their own committed relationships.

YN was never one to be involved in drama, she was always rooting for everyone around her, supportive and kind which made a lot of people flock to her, come to her for advice, a shoulder to cry on.

Harry and YN would curl up on her tiny twin mattress, limbs twisted, and he’d still rather be there than his queen size at the frat.

His anxiety was starting to raise which was a sure sign that he was ready to leave the party if YN was.

He had a huge game in two days, no matter how natural of an athlete he was, he still had these near debilitating nerves before each and everyone of them.

It was a blessing and a curse to be ‘the face of the football team’.

As the captain, the MVP, he got all the kudos, awards, and accolades that others could only dream about getting.

He also had the weight of the team riding on his performance.

It always seemed to fall back on him when they lost a game, a flock of pointed questions at the post-game interview that shifted blame to his performance rather than his teammates, and as the captain, he took responsibility.

The music was pounding, vibrating in his ears, and did he mention it was hot?

It was almost impossible for him to make a clear line towards the backdoor of the house without being bombarded by someone slapping him on the back or wanting to talk about the upcoming game for fifteen minutes.

Where was YN?

She had squeezed his hip as he was talking to a friend, telling him that her best friend, Kai, just texted her that she had arrived at the party after her work shift, and she was going to go find her.

There's a large wrap porch that he had a feeling they were on, nobody conjugated out there except to smoke a cigarette or have a private conversation where they didn’t have to be screaming in each other’s faces to hear what they were saying.

There was a rickety wooden porch swing, chains rusted and has probably been hung there since the nineties that YN liked to sit on, curl up like a cat and lay across Harry’s lap when the weather was cool but not chilled yet, the sun warming her.

And his hunch was right.

When he steps onto the porch through the front door, YN and Kai look over with a knowing expression.

There’s nothing but love and concern in her voice when she says, “Ready to go, baby?”

Harry never wants YN to miss out on opportunities to have fun if she had wanted to stay and that made him a little anxious too - that he was constantly ruining her time because he’d rather leave and be alone with her in the dorm.

“I can wait,” Harry assures her, waving to Kai, “I..just when you are, I wanted to let you know. I’ll be ready.”

“We were just bullshitting. I better go find Jackson before he passes out in someone else's backyard again,” Kai cracks a smile, her and Harry got along well, and Harry enjoyed spending time with her boyfriend, Jackson, who was on the team as well.

Kai disappears inside with a pat to his shoulder, mumbling about how muggy the house felt from all of the bodies in such a small, poorly ventilated space.

“Where are you?” YN asks softly as she stands from the swing, walking right into his arms and letting him bury his face in her hair.

“Six,” Harry responds with a sigh, “The game and all these people. It’s just starting to overwhelm me.”

It was a question YN asked a few times a day, if not more, asking where he was - she was checking in on his level of anxiety.

Then she responded accordingly.

“Let’s get you back to mine, yeah?” YN slips her hand under the back of his shirt, sliding upwards and rubbing his tensed muscles, “Get your anxiety down. Have a good night sleep.”

“My anxiety is already starting to lessen,” Harry replies mulishly as he pushes into her touch, the pressure she was putting on his muscles was heavenly, she knew exactly where to press, “It always does when I’m with you. S’just being away from you.”

“I know, it’s a good thing we’ll never be apart, huh?” YN smiles as she thumbs at his spine, there was so much love in every single touch, every time, and he didn’t realize how much he took it for granted until he was alone in bed, cursing everything in existence when all he wants is that contact again.

++

Harry tries not to disturb YN, she definitely was going to need a lot of rest with her injuries and trying to recover.

He manages to slip his phone from his pocket, sliding it up to his ear with a barely audible whisper, “Hello?”

“Styles, Coach Greene wants you on a private jet in an hour. He wants us to get to Dallas to have a strat meeting before practice starts with you. He really feels like you're the key to getting them through. You’re really the only member on the team that he’s not doubting. I already have the jet set up, send me your address so I can get a driver to pick you up,” Harry’s manager, George tells him, he can hear rustling in the background because George would now have to be on that flight too.

“I -” Harry’s eyes darted down to YN, who was sleeping peacefully on him, and this is the thing he has missed for the past three years.

The thing that he had grieved, still hasn’t completely healed from, and if he had been anywhere close to healing - now that wound was ripped open, raw, and oozing.

Possibly even more painful than the first time.

“I’m not supposed to fly out to Dallas until tomorrow,” Harry tells George with frustration, he had quite literally promised YN that he would be here, and he wanted to be here more than anything else, “I…I have shit planned.”

It wasn’t an option, Harry doesn’t even know why he’s arguing.

He’s under a contractual obligation, he really couldn’t say ‘no’ because his life was assumed to be football twenty-four hours during the season, and this wasn’t something that he could blow-off or turn down.

Coach Greene wasn’t asking.

If he refused, not only would it result in a fine for breach of contract but his coaches would surely have consequences for him - extra training hours, extra workouts, the list is endless.

“Harry,” George sighs, he was most likely rubbing the bridge of his nose under his thick-rimmed glasses, “Greene was pretty upset with some of the linemen’s performance yesterday, I don’t think now is the time to push his limits. You know?”

“I’ll send you the address,” Harry relents before hanging up, he was devastated and he didn’t know how he was going to leave her again, after promising her that he’d stay because that’s the main reason she broke it off in the first place was because of too many broken promises.

++ a few weeks before the breakup ++

Harry lets himself into YN’s dorm room after his late-night practice that the coach had called last minute after a few players had gotten in trouble for drinking off campus.

YN was sitting on her bed, still in a pretty flowing dress, makeup done but there were steraks of her mascara that weres starting to stain her cheeks.

She had her phone to her ear, eyes blinking up at Harry as she sniffles, clears her throat, and rasps croakly, “I’ll call you back later, Kai. Yeah, yeah, I know. Yeah. Bye.”

Harry drops his duffle, frown on his face because seeing her upset was the worst thing that he could imagine, “What happened?”

YN swallows harshly, putting down her phone, and her voice is still soft, calm as it always is, “I…I feel like I do so much for you, Harry. Which I want to do, I love supporting you, your career, anything you need. Lately you…It feels very one-sided recently.”

Harry’s stomach starts to churn, hearing her talk like this was horrible, and the worst part was that he knew he had been slacking.

The journey of getting into the NFL had been extensive, stressful, and all-consuming. 

He couldn’t remember to take a shower somedays which led to a lot of different things falling to the wayside.

The biggest thing was the love of his fucking life.

“Did I forget something?” Harry asks with a dry throat, he already knew the answer.

YN chuckles without smiling, “Why do you act like it’s a surprise? You don’t remember anything anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry’s heart was pounding, rushingi nto his ears like he just ran a play, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Can you even remember what tonight was?” YN asks as she smooths out a pleat of her dress, trying to stop tears from falling.

He couldn’t.

Harry feels like the biggest piece of shit when he admits, “No, I don’t. I’m sure if you give me a minute-”

“The Young Photographers of America dinner ceremony, where I was nominated for an award?” YN can’t control the tear that slips down her cheek, she couldn’t even look at him.

Harry remembers now the excitement that she had when she found out that her professors had put her up for the award.

“Nut, I-”

YN waves her arm limply to her desk, “I won.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry feels tears stinging, god, he can’t stop messing up, “I’m so-”

“Just…don’t,” YN shakes her head, voice dull and disconnected, “I don’t want to hear it. If you were proud of me you would have been there to support me like every other nominee who had their partner there. I was alone with an empty seat and a place card with your name on it.”

YN had told him that if he didn’t make it to her final’s art gallery, it wasn’t going to be a good thing for their relationship.

It was the first time she’d really ever had an ultimatum, she never had to before, and she thought it would work.

And Harry forgot.

++

“Mm, time s’it?” YN slurs sleepily, wincing as soon as she tries to sit up, “Ow. My head.”

“Whoa, be careful, nut,” Harry calms, dread seeping into every fiber of his being, “You have a pretty gnarly concussion.”

“It’s really painful,” YN groans as she relaxes again, wriggling her body even close to his, and it hurts.

It fucking hurts because he can’t make things right.

“The lights are going to stay off, blinds closed to help. Try to keep your eyes closed as much as possible for now,” Harry reminds her, he wants to cuddle her but his body is tense because he knows he’s about to seal their fate because he’s choosing football. 

“Do you want to watch something with me?” YN sounds so much like his YN, from three years ago, like she hasn’t changed at all, “I can listen. Despite the concussion, I slept so well. I haven’t slept right since we’ve broken up.”

“I…”

YN knows him better than anyone else.

Even from the first syllable.

Her eyes open, narrowing, and she pushes herself to sit up despite the ache in her skull.

“You promised,” YN tells him, voice stern and hurt, her bottom lip was trembling.

“My coach called -”

“Get out of my room,” YN raises her volume which was so out of character for her, “Now.”

“Can I just exp-”

“I’m…I shouldn’t have given you another fucking chance. I knew better. I just see you and have this stupid idea that you’re still the Harry that I fell in love with,” YN pushes herself even further away until they’re not touching, “I can’t believe I- Just leave.”

Harry has never felt more desperate in his life, “Please, it’s my contra-”

“I don’t need excuses. I shouldn’t have put your name on the list, I should have trusted you,” YN turns until her feet are off the bed, hunched over, and retching like she’s going to be sick, “Go get the nurse and leave. Please. My concussion-”

“Okay,” Harry’s response is shaky as he wants to touch her, help her, “I love you.”

He shouldn’t have said it.

But it had to let her know.

“You sure don’t know how to show it,” YN manages through another wave of nausea, “You’re a fucking sellout.”

++

[cece693]

So I just read a fic on Tumblr about reader acalling their lover 'bro', 'dude', etc. and I thought it was hilarious. Like it's something so harmless but your lover sees it like betrayal. I couldn't think of a person who would allow such a thing, but then comes in Joe Goldberg :)

You’re My Bro—Wait, What?

pairing: joe goldberg x male reader tags: 'bro' zoned, power bottom Joe, no explicit smut but mentions of it, reader is amused, Joe is not, casual turned into relationship, Joe monologuing

You’re starting to think Joe might be just a little too possessive—but hey, that’s half the fun, right? The two of you are standing at a crowded bar, shoulders touching as you each cradle a drink, when one of your friends strides over. You see Joe tense the moment they look between you and him, curiosity shining in their eyes. “So are you guys—?”

“Buddies,” you blurt, before you can think of something more diplomatic. Joe’s entire posture goes rigid as a steel rod. You can practically hear him grinding his teeth.

(Joe's inner monologue): You have got to be kidding me. First, “friend.” Then, “buddy.” Now, “bro.” Every time he does this, it feels like I’m being listed on some discount website: ‘And here’s my pal Joe, 50% off while supplies last!’ Doesn’t he realize he’s basically advertising that he’s still on the market? Am I a placeholder until some new fling shows up? Because I am definitely not a placeholder.

You finish the interaction with your friend, laugh awkwardly, and they move off to join the crowd. You turn to Joe, but he’s already looking at you with that borderline laser-focused stare. “Hey, buddy,” you try, testing your luck with a playful grin. Joe’s brow twitches, and you mentally kick yourself—buddy is basically the forbidden word at this point.

(Joe's inner monologue): He’s doing it on purpose…right? He must be doing it on purpose. Is he oblivious, or am I supposed to interpret this as some twisted come-on?

“Not now,” he says under his breath. “We’re going somewhere quieter.” He practically grabs you by the wrist, weaving through the bar crowd, until you’re both in a dimly lit corridor near the bathrooms. The incessant clacking of pool balls and muffled Top 40 hits fade behind the hum of neon beer signs.

You watch Joe pace in a tight circle, raking his fingers through his hair. It’s endearing and simultaneously a bit intense—like he’s one step away from either kissing you or strangling you. (In Joe’s defense, that’s basically his resting expression.) “Okay,” you begin, leaning back against the wall, “what was that about?”

He whirls on you, eyes narrowed. “You keep calling me your buddy. Or your pal. Or your bro. I’m not some backup plan you keep on the sidelines until you find a better guy to binge-watch Netflix with.”

You chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “Dude, it’s just—”

(Joe's inner monologue): Oh, now I’m ‘dude?’ Fantastic. Might as well just write ‘NOT AVAILABLE FOR COMMITMENT’ on my forehead.

“It’s not just anything,” he hisses, crossing his arms. “I’m pretty sure after everything we’ve done—” He lowers his voice, leaning in. “After letting you do literally every position we saw in that questionable YouTube video—maybe you could stop calling me bro.”

You open your mouth, realize no words are coming, then awkwardly clear your throat. “Alright, maybe I have been a little casual about this, but that’s only because we’ve never had the talk. I didn’t think you’d want me shouting from the rooftops about how we’re—”

Joe cuts you off, stepping closer. “And maybe I don’t want a rooftop announcement. But I do expect more respect than a frat-house label.”

(Joe's inner monologue): Just say it. Just say you want me. No big speech, no elaborate plan—just an acknowledgement that I matter. That’s not too much to ask… right?

“Fine,” you admit, swallowing your pride. “You matter. I’m not looking for anyone else. I’m not hooking up with random guys. But, Joe, you gotta give me a little grace. I’m not great at labeling…this.” You gesture between the two of you.

Joe exhales loudly. “Right. Labeling is apparently your kryptonite. Noted. Just...can we skip this weird in-between? Because every time you say ‘bro,’ it sounds like you’re flipping the sign on the door from exclusive to vacancy.”

You sigh, stepping in closer, placing a hand on Joe’s waist. “Dude—I mean—Joe, you’re not replaceable.” You soften your voice. “I’m not looking to replace you. I’m not looking for anything new. I’m good right here.”

He stares back at you, arms still crossed, but his gaze flickers down to your lips, then back up. Before you know it, the tension in that cramped hallway flips from charged anger to charged…something else. Joe’s eyes flash with a challenge, and you swear he’s daring you to make a move. You lean in and give him a slow kiss, feeling him momentarily stiffen before melting against you. It’s kind of funny—he’s so prickly about your label issues, but the second your lips meet, he’s turning to jelly. Well, controlling jelly.

He tugs on the front of your shirt, yanking you closer so your hips align with his. You groan against his mouth, the adrenaline from the argument still spiking through your veins. “Still want to argue?” you tease, pulling back.

Joe’s cheeks flush, but his gaze is steady. “Oh, I can argue and get what I want,” he mutters.

There’s a momentary scramble of limbs, heated looks, and the two of you decide that maybe the corridor behind the bathrooms isn’t the best place for what’s about to happen. Next thing you know, you’re ducking into the single-occupancy restroom—fortunately not locked. You twist the lock shut behind you while Joe promptly shoves you against the sink, eyes blazing.

(Joe's inner monologue): We’ve done this in decent places: my apartment, his place, that weird bookstore corner once (don’t get me started). But a bar bathroom, mid-argument? Maybe it’s not the classiest setting, but I need him to understand: I might be the one on my back, but I’m the one running this show.

He’s on you again—biting kisses, needy hands. Every swipe of his tongue is laced with frustration, wanting to prove a point. The comedic reality that you’re in a dingy bathroom, complete with flickering fluorescent light and a questionably stained sink, is not lost on either of you. But you can’t find it in yourself to care.

Joe’s breath is already ragged when he spins around, shoving you onto the closed toilet lid. He straddles you, controlling the angle despite being underneath—or, technically, on top—of you. You blink up at him, a little stunned by how quickly he’s taken charge.

(Joe's inner monologue): He might be bigger, physically stronger, but I’ve never had trouble taking the reins. Because if I don’t, he’ll probably just keep calling me ‘pal’ until the day we die.

His lips brush your ear. “You’re gonna remember who I am after tonight,” he murmurs, voice husky. “No more ‘bro’ or ‘buddy.’ Unless you’re aiming for round two of this discussion.”

There’s definitely some comedic irony that you were just seconds away from strangling each other verbally, and now Joe’s tugging you into a feverish, borderline out-of-breath makeout. He’s got that gift of making every single movement deliberate—grinding down just enough, leaning back just enough, whispering exactly what he wants.

A short while later—between the occasional slam on the wall from someone in the hallway telling you to hurry up—Joe’s making sure you fully understand your position. He’s the bottom, but he’s the one guiding the pace, telling you exactly how he wants it, and you, well…you’re happy to give it to him.

(Joe's inner monologue): He’s going to call me something else from now on. Not ‘bro.’ Not ‘buddy.’ Something that actually says I’m important. Because the truth is, there’s no one else like me. He’ll see that. By the time we’re done, he’ll more than see it—he’ll feel it.

Eventually, you both emerge, hair mussed, lips swollen, clothes hastily adjusted. The rest of the bar patrons give you a mix of amused and annoyed looks—apparently, you were in there a while.

Joe clears his throat, straightening his jacket with that almost comical air of dignity (as if he didn’t just thoroughly test the structural integrity of the bathroom sink). You wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him close. He doesn’t protest—although he narrows his eyes suspiciously, like he’s waiting for you to casually toss out the dreaded word again.

“So…” you start, leaning in so only he can hear you. “No more ‘bro’ or ‘buddy.’ I get it, loud and clear. Boyfriend good enough?”

His lips part. You’d swear you see relief flash across his face, but he masks it quickly with mild annoyance. “That’ll do for now,” he grumbles, but his hand slides into yours, interlocking fingers. The contact is firm—possessive, even.

You grin, guiding him back toward the bar for that second drink (which you both probably need after the fiasco in the bathroom). He glances up at you, expression softening.

(Joe's inner monologue): ‘Boyfriend’…that’s what I wanted to hear. Maybe it’s not a rooftop shout, but it’s a start. And if he even thinks about calling me ‘dude’ again, well…I’m not opposed to repeating that whole argument just for the fun of making up.

He notices you smiling to yourself. With a mock glare, Joe warns, “Whatever you’re thinking, I’m on to you.”

You chuckle and press a quick kiss to his temple. “Relax, boyfriend. I’m just thinking about how this’ll be one hell of a story to tell…well, maybe not the bathroom part.”

[fangdokja]

The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

Link To Google Docs Masterlist: [CLICK HERE]

♡ Rules to Taglist. Reserved only for long-time followers. Please read the RULES for more information.

♡ Notice Regarding Masterlist Accessibility. Due to ongoing mass reporting and Tumblr’s limitations on link availability, I will now be providing a Google Docs link for easier access. This will ensure that the Masterlist remains available regardless of post removals.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on this post. Thank you.

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles

Test-Phase TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”:

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Table of Contents

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ Schedule. The following stories are released or scheduled for release:

Fandom Yanderes

♡ Book 1. Forbidden Fruits (FF) : Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 2. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

General Stories

Drabbles

There’s a split second between sleep and wakefulness where your body doesn’t understand what’s happening.

You wake up to pain.

You shouldn’t have come back.

You wake to something wrong.

"Answer me."

You never should’ve let him catch you.

You kneel, naked, trembling under the heated gazes of men who aren’t supposed to see you like this.

The classroom is quiet, save for the professor’s dull voice droning on about something you can’t focus on.

You should’ve known better than to ignore his texts.

Oneshot Series

Yandere! Boss

Your boss is a fucking nightmare.

You haven’t had a moment’s peace since that night.

You don’t want to be here.

You should have known better than to show up.

You always knew your boss was a bastard.

You’re nothing more than the subject of their viewing pleasure.

They see everything. They own you.

To the man behind the camera, ensuring every second of your suffering is immortalized in high definition.

The cold metal of the chains rattles as you stir, the weight of them cutting into your raw wrists.

Yandere! Bully

The first time you realized you were different, you were eight years old.

The air crackles with something volatile.

You know you shouldn’t do it. You really shouldn’t.

He likes dragging you out of the library when you’re busy.

You shouldn’t have done it.

He is your boyfriend.

He's never nice to you. Not in public, not in private, not in bed.

You're staring.

He doesn’t date. He fucks. He ruins.

He doesn’t admit it—not outright, anyway—but the realization slams into him like a truck.

It always happens eventually.

Yandere! Childhood Friend

You’re too small.

You can’t breathe.

His hand clamps over your mouth before you can even think about screaming.

You should have seen it coming.

"You really thought I'd let you get away with it, huh?"

You don’t want to look at it.

The belt hits the floor with a dull clink.

Yandere! Golden Boy

He’s so loved. So adored.

You should've known better than to trust the town's so-called gentle giant.

Yandere! Military Leader

Heavy footfalls, a slow, deliberate pace—like a predator closing in on wounded prey.

You’re nothing here. Less than nothing. A thing.

The walls of the barracks were thick, lined with reinforced steel, the air stifling with sweat, gunpowder, and male musk.

You should've known better. Should’ve learned by now that no kindness goes unpunished.

Yandere! Scholar

He never raises his voice. He never has to.

He doesn’t react. He never does.

Specific Stories

Alhaitham

The cold steel beneath your back burns like ice, your skin prickling against the sterile surface.

Gojo Satoru

The first thing you register is the cold kiss of marble against your back, the unforgiving surface pressing into your spine.

He doesn’t gag you.

He angles the camera just right.

The worst part?

Satoru’s always been a glutton.

"Ah, look at you."

"You’re shaking, sweetheart."

"Pick it up."

"You thought I wouldn’t notice?"

Phainon

Salty Fang Dokja

Sunday

He smiles, and the world shatters.

The gilded chains around your wrists jingle softly as you struggle, their cold touch biting into your skin.

The silk sheets are cool against your burning skin, but they do nothing to soothe the raw ache between your legs.

It starts with the scent of incense—thick and cloying, a hypnotic lull of spice and warmth that slides into your lungs, suffocating and intoxicating all at once.

Original Yanderes (OC's)

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD) : A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

To be added.

[winterbiite]

pathetic boy

"do you trust me?" you looked down at armin who lay in between your legs, his back to your chest, hard cock out and aching to be touched. your chin was just above his shoulder, breath hot against his ear.

"y-yes, so much.." his voice sounded shaky, almost as if he were nervous or even afraid at that. you'd hardly even touched him, only some light grinding, but the poor boy was so sensitive and gave into you so easily, it was almost pathetic.

at first, he was unsure. you pulled yourself onto his lap, kissed him messily, and he just let you. how could you resist when his big, sea blue eyes sparkled up at you helplessly, his lips slightly parted. though when you started grinding down on his cock, clothed by his pants, that's when you really got a taste for who armin arlert was: a desperate boy needing to be put in his place. one who'd let you do anything to him as long as you gave him attention.

now here you were, your thumb grazing the pink head of his cock. he was at your mercy, completely vulnerable in his position. especially due to the fact that you were more clothed than him. your free hand grazed up and down his abs, which didn't match that cute innocent face of his in any way. his body in general didn't match the way he whimpered and buried his face in the crook of your neck when you slowly pumped his cock, not fully giving him what he wanted.

"faa..ster, please.. please go faster.." he mumbled, kiss-swollen lips grazing your skin.

"tell me what you are, armin" you wanted to hear him degrade himself and acknowledge his place. he was yours, which meant he was yours to do whatever you wanted.

"i'm your pathetic boy, your sweet boy, please, please, i'm yours.." he'd repeated the dirty things you'd told him before.

"so you listened? then of course i'll give you what you want, baby" you began stroking his cock at a faster pace than before, speeding up every few seconds.

"oh my.. oh.. thank you, thank you.. oh my- thank you.." he spoke under his breath, incoherently repeating the same few things over and over again. armin tried to resist his squirming to little avail, especially with the way you scratched at his skin with your nails, providing more sensory to his body.

as his breaths became more rapid and whimpers more frequent, you slowed down, sending a disappointment of disappointment through his body and arousal through yours.

"w-why'd you.. why'd you slow down? i'm sorry, i-i'm sorry" armin didn't know what he was apologizing for, he just felt like he had to. he tilted his head up, meeting your eyes.

"aw, my sweet boy.." you planted a loving kiss on his forehead as you sped up, figuring it was best to give him what he wanted.

by this point, armin had been babbling things from 'i love you' to 'i'm so pathetic' and everything in between. degrading himself, praising you, begging, it was so hot every time he opened that mouth of his.

"can i cum? please, mommy?.." he watched you pump his cock and couldn't help but buck his hips up. your free hand pushed his core back down, not letting his body move.

"no, armin, not yet." you wanted to see just how much the boy could take until he broke and until his whimpers became moans and his mind blank, thoughts of you and only you.

he looked up at you once again, tears welling in his eyes, showing you that he could barely take it anymore. you sped up the pace even more and watched as a tear spilled from his innocent eyes, then another, and another, staining his rosy cheeks. the sight alone had awoken something in you, and you knew that you would break this boy over and over again in the future, not allowing anyone else to touch him. if he wasn't yours then he wasn't armin arlert.

"think you can hold it anymore, armin?" you asked him, making your voice delicate and gentle for him. another tear spilled from his eyes.

armin shook his head rapidly "no, no i can't, it hurts, please! i need to!" he cried out "i'm a pathetic boy! please, mommy, please.."

"bite me, right now, if you bite me you can cum." you craved the feeling of his lips against your skin, and also a sort of pain which sent ecstasy through your entire body, right down to your soaking core.

armin hesitantly obliged, not wanting to hurt you, but if you asked for it then that's what you wanted. he opened his mouth against your neck, teeth digging into your flesh. he couldn't wait any longer, with a loud cry and more tears falling from his eyes, hot ropes of cum shot from his cock with force, as if it had broken out of a cage it'd been in for a cruel amount of time. you tilted his cock just slightly so that it would land all over his abdomen, continuing to pump until he'd been fully drained. his teeth had almost broken skin from how hard he'd bitten into you, now sobbing as you didn't stop jerking him off.

finally you slid your hand away from his cock, fingers spreading his warm load all over his abs.

"thank you, mommy, thank you, i love you.." he whispered once more, feeding into your ego as he always did.

"you're so hot, armin, do you even know that?" you always gave the boy his well deserved praise after ruining him.

"am i?" a small, lazy smile tugged at his lips.

he slightly lifted himself up to look at you, though didn't have strength to entirely sit up. you cupped his cheeks, angling his face to yours. you kissed his cheek, the salty sting of tears reminding you of his pain and pleasure. he pressed his lips against yours, pulling away shortly after to collapse in your arms.

"are you tired?" you asked, though already knew the answer. you knew he wouldn't want to get up for the next little bit.

"mhm.." he hummed in response

no matter how many times you said it to him, he was pathetic and sweet and needy and cute and you loved him.

i wont lie this is just most of the things im into so its mostly just written for my likings BUT thats ok we ball!!!!!! this could be for anyone really i just chose armin bcuz hes my current obsession. why are sweet and innocent guys so hot what is the psychology behind that. maybe i should actually do research on that i will

[3amfanfiction]

What's the worst that could happen?

cw: simon x reader. gn!reader terms used throughout even during the smutty parts. non-con but not violent. blink and you miss it dacryphilia, slight degradation. MDNI

You find a bag of money hidden behind a dumpster. What happens when you take it home?

This was it. The end. You were going to lose everything.

You were weeks late on rent, eviction notice in your pocket, about to be homeless. You didn't even have a car to live out of. You were about to be on the street with only the belongings you could carry with fall rapidly losing its fight to winter.

You felt beyond hopeless as you traipsed back from another failed interview. It seemed like everyone was hiring but no one would actually take you. Like it was a front they were putting on, that the jobs were available, but never to you. A tease of what you could have if only you were different. More.

You ignored your stomach grumbling as you cut through an alleyway on your way home. You would've missed the backpack completely if the glint of the zipper hadn't caught your eye.

You almost left it there. What use would a bag tucked behind a dumpster be for you? It probably had a murder weapon or bloody clothes in it or something. Nothing that would concern you. Still your feet seemed to have a mind of their own as they slowed then turned towards the bag.

Huffing, you turned toward the exit of the alleyway and started walking once more, pushing it from your mind. You didn't care. It didn't matter what was in the bag. It was none of your business.

You nearly made it to the street before you slowed again, feet dragging in reluctance. Maybe one peek wouldn't hurt. Just a glance to satisfy your curiosity. Because it was strange that a backpack was hidden behind a dumpster. What if you helped solve a mystery?

You waffled for a moment before finally turning around, bee-lining for the bag. You hissed in displeasure as your knuckles scraped along the rough brick wall, leaving you bleeding.

Tugging the bag out, you opened it. Expecting to see nothing much of interest.

Instead you were greeted with stack upon stack of banded bills.

You couldn't help the way your jaw dropped in shock at the sight. A dumbfounded look on your face as you sat and stared. It was more money than you had ever seen in your entire life. Just sitting here, out in the open, for anyone to come by and grab. It took a car honking a couple streets over to knock you out of your dazed stupor. You quickly zipped the bag and shoved it back into its hiding place, planning on forgetting you ever saw anything. It wasn't your business and you didn't care.

So what if there was enough money to pay your rent for the next year plus enough for food. You weren't stupid. That money was someone's and they were going to come looking for it eventually.

The evening took that moment to let a chilling breeze swirl down the alleyway, causing you to shiver and tuck your thin coat more firmly around yourself. You were bitterly reminded that the weather was supposed to turn in the next few days—a cold front moving down from the north.

Maybe you should take it.

Nobody was around. It had clearly been left for someone but this alleyway was used all the time. Anyone could have grabbed it as they were walking past.

No, that's how people got murdered by the mafia or a drug gang or crooked cops or something. Only a moron would touch an obviously illegal bag of hidden money.

But.

Nobody would know it was you. And surely the mafia made more than this in a day. Maybe they wouldn't even notice it was missing. The same way you could misplace a five and it not be a big deal. You would bet this was just a drop in the bucket for them.

Plus, you really needed it.

You needed to keep a roof over your head since winter was right around the corner. You would die if you were left on your own. You didn't have any family or friends to fall back on. There was no safety net to catch you. It would be over.

You don't know how long you sat and argued with yourself on the merits of taking the bag before finally coming to a decision. Standing, you tucked it under your arm, beneath your coat. Attempting to hide what parts of it you could.

You'd be taking it home and fuck the repercussions.

~~~~

You were a mess the whole walk home. Eyes darting around constantly, you were hunched awkwardly around the bag as if someone was going to come and yank it out of your hands at any given moment. It was a relief when you finally closed and locked the door behind you, peering out your curtains to make sure no one had followed you.

Pulling the bag from beneath your arm you went about hiding it in the bedroom closet, tucked up and away in a hard to reach corner. You'd figure out how to go about depositing enough for rent later. First you had to have a major meltdown about what you just did.

Maybe you should take it back. Nobody would ever know it was missing if you got it back before they looked. You really shouldn't have taken what wasn't yours to begin with.

This was a mistake.

You were pacing circles around your living room when your front door clicked open.

You froze. Certain that you had locked it behind you, hadn't you? Why was the handle turning?

It felt like you blinked and there were three large men surrounding you in your dingy little apartment, their size dwarfing your belongs and filling the room with an energy you couldn't name. You took one shaky step only to be pinned in place when arms wrapped around you from behind, keeping you stationary. You couldn't help the way you squirmed and thrashed—the arms only tightening in response.

You couldn't draw in a full breath of air. Your eyes darted frantically between the two men you could see—the one holding you wearing a mask that obscured his face. You watched the one with the mohawk leer at you, taking an obvious up-and-down look over your body as the other, a man with pretty eyes and close cropped hair just frowned at you in disappointment.

You couldn't help the way your eyes watered when you squeaked out a who are you and what are you doing in my house.

"Little mouse took something that didn't belong to them," the man on the left sing-songed, his bright blue eyes lit up with a manic internal fire.

"I-I don't . . . didn't—"you shook in the masked ones hold, a tremor working its way through your body.

The man to your right cut in with a tired, "And thinks they can lie to us." His deep brown eyes watched you, quietly noting each expression that crossed your face. You snapped your mouth shut and swallowed with a fearful shake of your head. "No use denying it now, pet. Why'd you take it?"

"They took it because they're a little thief," the big one currently holding you locked into your position rumbled. You felt the vibrations through where your shoulders were pressed against his chest, causing goosebumps to pepper your flesh and your heart to skip.

"Nah, it ain't like that LT, they were just trying to keep it safe for us, weren't you, sweetness?" cooed blue eyes.

You didn't know what the right answer was so you just let out a quavery, "I'm sorry," in a faint voice. Eager to give these men whatever they wanted so that they would leave you alone. You never should have taken the bag. You should have minded your own business. Now look at the trouble you've gotten yourself into. They were probably going to murder you in your own home and leave your body to rot. Just another statistic on the news. 'Local idiot dies after stealing money from dangerous people'.

"Unfortunately, sorry ain't gonna cut it," he let his face turn into a downwards pout, simulating a mockery of a frown. "We're gonna need that bag back and we're gonna need to have a discussion about taking things that don't belong to you."

You swallowed the pooling saliva under your tongue, certain you were about to vomit in fear. "It-it's in my room. I can g-go get it for you?" you stammered, hoping against hope that they would take the bag and leave. There were resources for unhoused people. You could find a shelter. You really didn't need the money, you'd be fine.

"Let's do that," the pretty one said, gesturing down the hallway to your presumed bedroom. You hadn't noticed the gloves on his hands before. Oh god, they were all wearing gloves. You were going to die. The only reason everyone would wear gloves is because they don't want to leave fingerprints at the scene of the crime. There was no way you were getting out of this alive.

You had to lock your knees to keep from collapsing when the masked one finally let you go. Your legs trembled under your weight and the slight shove from him didn't help. You scurried quickly towards the room at the back of the apartment.

"Run, little mouse, run."

Stumbling to your closet you yanked the bag down and turned to head back to the living room, only to scream at the body standing right behind you. It was the one who had held you pinned and you took the moment to take him in. From his mask covered face to his wide body draped in a dark sweatshirt and jeans. His big boots dwarfed your bare feet.

He chucked darkly at your fright reaching a thick arm out to pull the bag from you, turning to toss it to another man in the hall with a quiet, "Check to make sure it's all there," directed at him. He kept his gaze locked with you the whole time.

You flinched when he brought a hand up to drag a finger along your temple and down the apple of your cheek. You stopped breathing when that same finger dragged along your lower lip, catching it and prying it apart from its match. A quick peek into the dark recesses of your mouth that his gaze darted down to capture before locking with yours once more.

"Did you take anything out of the bag?"

You shook your head adamantly, "I didn't. I promise."

"Promises, promises," the words curled in the air, a taunting edge underlying the sounds. "I hope you're not lying. Bad things happen to little mice who lie."

You were contemplating making an ill-advised break for it when a voice echoed out from the hallway, "It's all here."

He didn't step away with the confirmation. If anything, he pressed closer. You could feel the heat rising off his body. Smell tobacco and char and something metallic. "It seems you got lucky this time, little mouse." You watched his dark, expressionless eyes above the mask. His gaze boring into you, keeping you pinned in place, taking sips of air instead of full breaths—your lungs too seized to manage anything else.

He filled all of your vision, looming in a menacing way. You felt like he could eat you whole. Swallow you down in one bite. Never to be seen again.

It was a shock when he finally took a step back. Like you were coming up for air after being at the bottom of a lake. Light suddenly felt brighter, air tasted sweeter. It was a release of pressure.

You watched as he turned and left the room, still standing in the same spot as the pretty one stuck his head in. "Don't bother going too far. Something might come up where we need to get back in touch."

You nodded your head, unable to do anything else.

You heard your front door open and close and you collapsed where you stood. Your legs crumpled and your knees hit the carpet with a thud as you started shaking. You were unsurprised when your eyes started to fill with tears at the release, the strong emotions you'd gone through that night finally breaking through that last barrier. It took you almost an hour before you were recentered and calm enough to leave your bedroom. Walking out into the living room you were met with the sight of the largest of the three still in your house.

He was sprawled out on your couch, the picture of comfortability, his booted feet kicked up on the arm rest and his arm tucked behind his head. Your eyes caught on the swell of his bicep beside his face before you pulled your eyes away, focusing on his face once more. It was impossible to tell if he caught you.

You couldn't help the hiccuped gasp you let out at the sight of him, shocked that he was still here. His presence was in no way diminished by his positioning. He looked like a big cat, lounging in respite until the time came to launch from his position. Coiled energy thrumming through his veins. An appetite for violence you hadn't yet scratched the surface on.

You watched him stand, a click of his knee the only sound he made as he moved your way. You found yourself stepping backwards, not paying attention to where you were going. It was no surprise you found yourself running into a wall, this behemoth looming over you with a forearm pressed above your head, pinning you in place.

You didn't say anything, couldn't say anything when he leaned forward and sniffed your hair through his mask. Could only squeak in fright as his hips pressed forward, grinding against you and pinning you more firmly. You felt like a butterfly mounted to a viewing board. Helpless to do anything.

That same helplessness kept your limbs limp and weak as he pulled you away from the wall and back towards your bedroom. Shuffling you along every time you stumbled. When you reached the bed he pushed firmly on your shoulders, hinging you forward until you were bent over the mattress, feet still firmly on the floor.

You didn't start to fight until you felt him pulling your pants down below your ass.

Jerking back to life you tried to scramble up and over the bed only to be thwarted when he wrapped a big arm around your throat in a chokehold. He didn't squeeze, just kept a firm sort of pressure that hinted he could if he wanted to. He used his free hand to reach under your shirt and pinch your nipple, ignoring your gasp at the bite of painful pleasure.

"Little mouse isn't being very friendly, are they?" he asked in a low tone, switching sides and plucking at your untouched nipple. You couldn't help the way you squirmed against him, the touch sending a wave of warmth to your core. You froze when you brushed back against his cock pressing against his jeans, searching for you.

"Little mouse needs to remember their place."

Leaving your nipples alone he dropped his hand into your pants, cupping you firmly in his palm. You couldn't help the way your hips shot forward at the sensation, chasing the pleasure even as your mind was screaming at you to get away. You rocked back but that only put you into contact with him once more. He gave a low moan as he pulled you back, using his cupped hand to control your hips.

You blinked tears away as you stared at the ceiling, your neck still circled by his arm, sniffling when a few of them ran over your lashline. He didn't seem to mind them if the way he licked up your face was any indication.

"Are you going to be good or am I going to have to tie you down?"

The thought of being tied down sent a wave of fear through your body. You would be entirely helpless, unable to move, to stop him, anything. You would be completely at his mercy and he would be free to do whatever he wanted with you. You were shaking your head before you even realized it, frantic to assure him he didn't need to go to such extremes.

"Then be good and bend over," he breathed hotly into your ear, the sensation causing a shiver to skate down your spine. He loosened his hold around your throat, allowing you to bend down once more and press your wet face to the comforter. You sniffled when you felt him pull your pants the rest of the way off. Heard them hit the floor off to the side when he tossed them. Heard him spit before two fingers were rudely inserted.

You couldn't help the yelp and jerking forward of your hips at the sensation but he planted a palm in the middle of your back to hold you still and went back to stretching you open, scissoring his fingers now that they were inside you with no concern for your discomfort.

Pulling back he fiddled with his pants, opening them just enough to pull his cock out. He pressed the head to your opening. "Wait! Wait," you shouted breathlessly, "There's lube, in the nightstand. Please."

You felt him pause, weighing his options and you prayed that he wouldn't split you open. If he was in any way proportionate you needed the lube to keep from dying. You almost collapsed to the bed in relief when he pulled away from you and you heard the drawer open, followed shortly by the click of the lid. You were thankful he seemed to have no interest in breaking you tonight.

He was back pressed against you almost before you could blink, his cock notched at your entrance once more.

"I'm gonna split you open around my cock, little mouse."

Pushing forward he proceeded to do just that. Sliding in halfway with the first thrust, you were unable to help the gasped shriek that left your mouth at the stretch. It felt like he was tearing you in two, his cock a thick, heavy weight inside. He pulled back to thrust once more, seating himself the remainder of the way.

Without waiting for you to adjust he started moving, pistoning into you with rapid, harsh thrusts. You could barely make out the little grunts he would let out with each thrust over the slapping of skin, his heavy balls swinging freely and plap!ing against you with every forward movement.

It was ecstasy and agony all at once when he readjusted and started brushing against something deep inside. A little bundle of nerves that sent shockwaves ricocheting through your body.

You bit the comforter to stifle your moans. Fighting against giving him the satisfaction of hearing you—"It sounds like little mouse is a little bit of a whore,"—but it didn't seem like it made much of a difference. He reached out and pinned a hand around the back of your neck, pressing you firmly into the bedspread.

What followed was violent and fast and aggressive. A flurry of hips slamming into one another as he chased his release, dragging you along behind him as he continued to unknowingly stoke the fire inside your core higher and higher. You fought against it, not wanting to cum. You didn't want to get any enjoyment out of this.

You'd never forgive yourself if you did.

That lasted until he dropped his hand and gave you something to grind against while he rearranged your insides. He didn't bother with stroking, just gave you a counter pressure to his thrusts, his lack of care doing more for you than if he had played with you with intent. You squealed when a dirty grind caused his fingers to catch you just right.

"Maybe we should call you piggy instead of mouse if you're going to squeal like that." he taunted, finally moving his fingers. You shuddered at the sensation, trying to buck away and towards it at the same time. A tingle started to build up along the back of your thighs, heat spreading and coating your stomach, coalescing in your pelvis where it grew brighter. It was almost a shock when it snapped.

You couldn't help the sharp Ah! Ah! Ah!s you let out as you came, spikes of pleasure wiping your brain clear of any thoughts. You barely notice the man behind you thrusting even harsher a handful more times before burying himself as deeply as he could, emptying himself into you with a deep groan.

He stayed pressed inside of you as he caught his breath, giving little aborted half-thrusts occasionally, overstimulating the both of you.

He slapped your ass when he pulled out, leaning back to pull his pants back up from where they had slipped around his hips. You laid there as you listened to the burr of his zipper, still trying to catch your breath. He chuckled at the sight of you, his cum dripping from your well used hole.

"Like I said, don't be going anywhere. We'll be coming back to see you."

[nikoniclove]

hope your vacation is going well :)

so happy to see the new updates! appreciate you getting something out despite being away

we haven’t gotten an update for the yours, mine, and ours in a little while. i was rereading the chapter of ace in emily’s sweatshirt and there’s some subtle references to ace in boxers..

was wondering if you could play more into that look? half asleep ace walking around the house in boxers or even just wearing them after a long day at work.

Just for you!

Emily’s Boxers

Ao3 link here

AN: NSFW, timeline set sometime after When Past Meets the Present but it really doesn’t matter (it’s just the reference to a house instead of an apartment)

“Fucking finally,” you groan loudly to the empty hallway as your key fits perfectly into the lock. The thump of the security giving way sounds magnificent.

Your day was endlessly tedious for no good reason. Delayed and rescheduled meetings kept shifting your run later and later until it just didn’t happen, and while running at 11:45 PM at night is something you’ve done more than a few times, today the weight of the day’s boredom and inconveniences might affect your reaction time. Instead you shed your clothes as you walk in the door. One boot at a time, not nicely placed together on the mat, but one flopped over onto its side. Then the next a few feet later. Your belt hangs over the back of a chair. Your jeans puddle to the floor wherever you are on the trek to the bedroom. The shirt is flung vaguely in the direction of the laundry basket at the bottom of the stairs.

The movements you make up the stairs could only be compared to clomping. Tired, trudging limbs complimenting a dull throbbing headache. Bra, underwear, and socks scatter every few steps. It’s second nature now. You beeline for Emily’s set of drawers, first finding a pair of her worn boxers. They’re black like almost everything else she owns, but the band is faded rainbow elastic from a Pride event years and years ago, well before you even knew what Pride was. With the amount Emily wears them (and the amount you steal them), you’re surprised they aren’t more threadbare.

The second item is more of a search. Her Yale sweatshirt… well, the Yale sweatshirt you prefer to steal… it’s also her favorite, no surprise there. Because she forever likes to poke fun and tease, she hides the sweatshirt every time she goes away on a case without you. Sometimes it’ll be folded in the laundry room. Other times, it’ll be tucked beneath your pillow. Once it was in the snack bin of the pantry as a clever reminder that you needed to eat. Today you find it with your guitar, the hoodie slotted over the case’s neck as if the leather was chilly in her absence. You roll your eyes at the silliness, even though no one is there to see it and you (not so) secretly love it.

Dressed in Emily’s boxers and sweatshirt, you belly flop onto the bed. The familiar scent and cushion surrounds you, and your lungs finally expel the last of the stale air from the tediously long day. There are things you should do — food, teeth brushing, and meds to name a few. You could plug in your phone, check in with your partners or even just slot yourself beneath the sheets.

Nope.

All of that sounds far too involved. Face first on the bed, with your legs hanging off the side. This seems like the only reasonable thing to do now that you have Emily’s clothes on. You miss them. Both of them. But you got to see JJ this morning before she left for a quick testimony somewhere in Rhode Island. Emily has been gone for eight days though. Her available communication has been limited thanks to cell service and sheer busyness.

Your phone is somewhere. Probably in your jeans wherever those ended up. You should check in with your people. Even just to send them an emoji of a bed and a skull if that’s all you can manage. But finding the phone feels daunting in a way that melting into the bed does not.

——

Emily curses a red streak and something very creative that would make the Roman nuns who taught her profusely cross themselves. A thin layer of dust and sand repels from her bag where it thumps to the floor. At first glance, Ace’s go-to combat boots are not in their usual spot. The further into the house Emily ventures, the more of her girlfriend’s clothes she finds. She knows exactly where the trail leads.

Sure enough, the young woman is asleep on top of the covers, curled slightly, nowhere near any of the pillows. Emily can’t help but smile. Sleep never comes easily, and the girl looks so content and calm, adorned in stolen clothes. Lust sets off throughout her body like fireflies in a summer evening sky. Bright flashes of desire that Emily won’t act on until tomorrow. (Or maybe that’s just later today given the 3 AM hour.) Ace or JJ in her clothes always flips the switch; it’d be stupid not to. She remembers explaining it in terms of her ‘caveman brain’ and the possessive way it makes her feel.

More than that though, there’s a peacefulness about finally being home, someone she loves here who cares where and how she is. That was never what the Embassy houses around the world felt like. Never home. Whenever teenage Emily returned, the only people waiting for her were people who were paid to. Her mother only cared where she was when it was necessary to display a certain kind of closeness to further a political ambition.

So this… coming home to a place that feels like hers, its walls bursting with memories of love and laughter, her partners waiting for her… it’s everything.

Eventually Emily removes her clothes, separating the pieces between laundry and dry cleaning. She cleans her face of make up and brushes her teeth. After she puts on her pajamas, murmuring under her breath about the thief who stole her clothes, Emily pulls back the sheets and manipulates her sleeping girlfriend under the covers where she’s supposed to be.

The young woman barely notices, and Emily smiles fondly at her, looping wild strands of hair back behind her ear. “C’mon, my love,” she murmurs softly. “It’s bedtime.” Subconsciously, Ace seeks out her safety. Emily adores how Ace mimics the shape of her side, cozying up instinctively. “It’s good to be home.”

——

Your body is warm. More than that, your cheek is warm. Hot even. From the smell and the way your body feels in the bed, you know you’re home. Your eyes flutter open, and you blink blearily a few times before recognition kicks in. Beneath your cheek, still fast asleep, Emily is home. Her chest, the heat source for your face.

Her hands settle on your hips though her eyes haven’t opened. You would have sworn she was asleep. “You’re squirming around,” Emily mumbles, voice heavy and slow. “Hmm, what has you so excited this early in the morning?”

“You’re home,” you respond, your volume keeping the low, soft tone that protects this sleepy shield around you both. “I missed you.”

“You thieved from me is what you did.”

“Borrowed,” you counter, easily falling into the usual rhythm of banter about her clothes on your body.

“Hmm, it does look good on you,” Emily agrees. Her eyes are still closed, giving away just how tired she is. “C’mere.” Using your hips, she drags you more firmly into the middle of her body. Her fingers search out skin, following a tried and true path over and under your stolen clothes. “It’s a shame both of us were too tired to act on it last night.”

“Seems like you still might be too tired,” you quip as your thigh presses intentionally between Emily’s legs, rolling your hips forward just so. “Do you want to sleep? Or do you want to take your clothes off me?” Emily’s throaty chuckle goes straight to your core. Her fingers bite into your sides. “If you open your eyes and I learn you’re hiding another concussion, I’m going to smack you myself,” you threaten.

That one startles a laugh out of her; Emily catches you off balance, a quick movement of her hips swaps your positions. You look up into a sea of beautifully dark eyes and swaying, sleep-mused black hair. “Still have questions, brat?”

“Always,” you retort, keeping your thigh firm between her legs. Tenderly, you brush through her hair before cradling her cheek. “I missed you,” you say again like a declaration of love caught in this soft morning moment before the rest of the world rushes in. Emily prefers actions to words, so she leans down to let the tip of her nose graze yours, slowly, slowly before she kisses you sweetly.

When you’re breathless and your heart pounds against the confines of your ribs, Emily pulls back with a quick wink that makes your insides tremble. Her silky camisole and short set ends up on the floor before she reaches in the nightstand for her preferred harness and strap. “Take my boxers off.”

“You don’t want to do it yourself,” you challenge. “You keep insisting they’re yours after all.”

“We do not have nearly enough time before work for me to brat tame you. Don’t test me,” she growls, the sultry register like music to your ears. “Boxers off.” The thin black fabric adds to the growing pile on the floor near the bed. Emily leans back against the headboard, situating a few pillows to support herself. You know what she wants, so instead of straddling her like the good girl you’re supposed to be, you lean down to lick up the underside of the shaft. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Emily groans, her head thumping back briefly, as she processes the visual and feels her body respond in kind. The cool silicone is familiar now, in your mouth and elsewhere. Relaxing your jaw, you take her cock in until its tip bumps the back of your throat. The breathy sound she expels might be enough to convince you that Emily can really feel every swipe of your tongue or hollow of your cheeks.

When you gag once, then twice, Emily grabs for you, directing you to kneel over her hips. The silicone toy, now plenty wet, nudges your inner thigh. Always conscious of your readiness, her fingers part your folds. “Green,” you consent.

“Not yet.”

“Emily,” you grumble. She wants you wetter before she stretches your pussy. You don’t give a damn, but you know you won’t win this battle. Her thumb swipes tight circles around your clit. With her free hand, she tugs the zipper free on the hoodie, the two sides revealing your bare breasts and torso to her hungry gaze. “Fuck… Em. Just let me ride your cock.”

“Not yet,” she repeats, even as her voice gives away her intense desire. “Wait.” The slight dominance weaves its way into every interaction somehow, some way. Maybe it’s the way she grabs your chin and forces eye contact. Maybe it’s the commanding grip on your hips. Maybe it’s a simple instruction that from anyone else could be innocent. Between you, the underlying relationship of those traditional roles simmers to the surface, even in moments like these where a scene isn’t the intention.

Your thighs tremble before Emily gives in. “Say it again for me, love.”

“You made me wait,” you counter while you try to take matters into your own hands. “So maybe I don’t want to say it again.” Dark eyebrows arch in a challenge, her fingers delivering a quick pinch to your clit. “Fuck!” Her thumb soothes the sensitive nub while she waits somewhat patiently. “God, you’re such a bitch,” you whine.

“Mmm, careful, love. You’re starting to sound like our favorite blonde. She loves to remind me how much of a pain in the ass I am.”

Thirty seconds, maybe a minute if you’re generous with the estimate - that’s how long you hold out before bumbling through the phrase again. “I want to ride your cock, Em.”

“There’s my good girl. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Wrapping her fist around the toy, Emily rubs its silicone tip along the length of your slit. “Can’t say the same for this though.”

On the top, you can control the speed you take her toy, and you’re more than ready, have been well before she insisted on more teasing. The stretch feels wonderfully familiar. You ignore her joke in favor of feeling every inch of her cock. “Fuck,” Emily moans, one hand tight on your hip while the other traces a reverent path between the open halves of her sweatshirt, still draped over your shoulders. Part of the fabric covers one of your breasts, so she shifts it out of the way, her thumb damp with your slick rubs your nipple. When you take it off, Emily stops you. “Leave it on. I love seeing it on you. You know why?” Hips rolling, hands braced on her ribs, you shudder. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp.

Her praise arrives in a hum and the tightening of her grip on your hips, dictating your movement. Your pussy flutters around her toy cock. “Not yet, love,” Emily insists for the third time since you woke up on top of her.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” you groan, a delicious blend of frustration and pleasure. With Emily, those go together more often than not. She moves one of your hands to her breast, a wordless instruction.

Treading the edge carefully, you go straight for the moves that make a mess of her — nails scratching over the tender skin of her breasts, her nipples caught between your fingers for a sharp pull or twist, barely there grazes along the underside that make her shiver. “Keep… fuck… keep doing that.” Her pale chest flushes, swatches of skin turning pink with desire. Black hair splays out across the pillow.

“Emily… Emily, fuck,” you moan as a warning. Her gaze is heavy, palpable, as she takes in every detail of your body on top of her — pussy dripping onto her cock, stomach muscles tense, breasts swaying, and her fucking sweatshirt rustling with each movement. “Oh… right there… oh shit,” you mumble, your spine curling as your body clenches in the split second before your release washes over you. Her quiet groan of completion makes you moan again. You tremble through the residual effects, her cock still fully buried in your pussy. “You could have woken me up for that.”

She chuckles, thumbs brushing over your hip bones slowly. “You were asleep, curled at the foot of the bed on top of the covers like a cat,” Emily quips fondly.

“You like both kinds of pussy. I don’t see the problem.”

Emily barks out a laugh at your response, helping you off before hugging you tightly. “Fuck, I always miss you so much,” she whispers into your hair. “Even if you steal my clothes.”

“You love it.”

“Mmm, and I love you,” Emily agrees. Her muscles tense as she notes the clock for the first time. “And we’ve got to hustle because we are going to be very late for work.”

“Slow mornings for you,” you tease as you clamor off the bed. Even with the rush, you’re elated to have her home, but she’ll have to pry her sweatshirt and boxers from your cold, dead fingers if she wants them back.

[vegan-kaktus]

Various Pet Defaults - Part 1

Pet Bed Basket Expensive

Replaced with chrissy6930's mesh edit of said pet bed (scroll down) and re-mapped by me to use 512x512 textures. Existing recolors will break unfortunately, but I couldn't even find many to begin with. I did include 8 recolors (some of them are remakes of windkeeper's (T$R) recolors). They all have a dirty state, it's not as dirty (/turquoise) as Maxis' but it's something at least. I will include my .psd for this in part 2.

Maxis: polycount: 2784, texture size: 1024x512

My default: polycount: 1294, texture size: 512x512

Pet Food

I dislike the original pet food texture, but I liked the one from this upload by @beautifulnerdkitty. I edited it slightly and turned it into a default replacement.

Note: custom pet bowls might not use my default, since I think they often have their own?

Bon Voyage Bone

The bone sims can dig up from bon voyage is identical to the chew bone from pets ep (but a separate object completely), so I replaced it with the bone from castaway. I re-mapped it to use 140x100px texture (yes!) and I also made it buyable (you can find it under misc - pets) but this edit is in a separate file. If you install the buyable file in your downloads folder, it will have a custom star and can be deleted in-game, and doing so will corrupt your game. If you decide to install the buyable file as well, be careful not to delete the bone in-game!

Maxis made a custom description for this bone, but only in English. I fixed this and now the description is available in all languages, courtesy of Google translate (the Swedish translation I'm confident in but please let me know if any translation needs fixing). They also broke the shadow, which I've successfully restored and edited to fit the new mesh.

Maxis: polycount: 672, texture size: 64x32

My default: polycount: 452, texture size: 140x100 (original was 512x512)

Edited CC

All of the edited custom downloads I mention below, I've re-used their files so you have to choose between my versions or their original!

I re-mapped @deedee-sims' pet pillows to match my new 512x512 textures.

I swapped mesh on hmiller61615's dog chew treat, repo'd it to Maxis' treat texture and also made a version using BV's animations to get rid of the squeaky sound. The file ending with _pets is using the animations from pets with the squeaky sound. The file with _bv at the end is using the animations from bon voyage, with a "boney" sound (and therefore requires bon voyage). Choose one of the files!

hmiller61615's original: polycount: 672, texture size: 64x32

My edit: polycount: 160, texture size: repo'd to Maixs' texture (64x32).

I edited one of the bones by @vampirekiss6661 from here (scroll down). I made it smaller and a tad thicker and gave it a shadow. I made a bv version of this as well, choose one file; either pets or bv!

Polycount: 402, texture size: 128x256

I also re-mapped, resized + edited the textures of ats2's pet bowl & recolor, converted by @beautifulnerdkitty's here. I removed the sheen, repo'd it to Maxis' resources when possible, and gave it a dirty state. My .psd is included if you'd like to make more recolors.

Polycount: 482, texture size: 256x256 (original was 1024x1024)

Recommend Mods

@episims' no rotating pet bowl fix (thank god for that) and Aaron's finicky pet fix (ad-free direct link, SFS mirror).

My pet bed default is required for my recolors to work, and the bv bone default requires bon voyage, otherwise nothing in this dowload is dependent on anything so you can pick and choose what you want. As usual, no mip-maps and everything has been compressed to reduce file size. You can choose between merged or separate recolors (which are clearly named).

Do let me know if anything is wonky or you stumble upon any problems. I am so sorry for the long post, this download wasn't supposed to be more than just two defaults (well, technically it is only 2 defaults included here but I kept getting sidetracked as you can see).. and I have so many more I'll have to make a part 2 (cats are not forgotten)!

DOWNLOAD: SFS | MEGA

No MTS you might ask, and yeah sadly. I'm done uploading to MTS, the upload-wizard completely hates me haha. I've lost all my text more times than I want to admit and keep in mind I have to write [b] and [url=] manually over there. From now on I'll only upload to my tumblr. No offense to MTS, it's a great site and I love it dearly.

Credits: chrissy6930 for the edited mesh, @deedee-sims for the pillows, SpaceDoll for their dirty overlay, hmiller61615 for the chew treat, @vampirekiss6661 for the bone, @cluedosims for the cluedo metal resource, architechture_th for the wood texture, chirokung for the paw texture, aroundthesims2/sandra and @beautifulnerdkitty for the pet bowl, someone(?) for the hyena bone converted from castaway, and lasty, Maxis.

[jaychrilo1144]

Ramble post 19373729

Topic- being trans/queer in the marauders fandom

There is so much hate going on, especially on tiktok and instagram rn. From my experience we're reletively alright here on tumblr but it still needs to be adressed.

The marauders fandom is for those who are pushed to the side. That goes for poc, ppl of the lgbt community, or anyone of a marginalized community.

We saw the hate from the creator of this world, took that, and turned this world into an inclusive space for character fan cannons/fics to roll with and made sure that fans felt like they had a safe space to go.

After all, James Potter-and parents- are known for "picking up the strays". The marauders themselves symbolize Found Family along with the skittles and The Golden Trio. Finding a space and the people in that space who will love you for being yourself regardless of the people who didnt (especially those who didnt and were supposed to).

I have found safety expressing my Sexuality here. I looked at some of the characters like remus and luna be so loved by their friends regardless of who they are, what they're interests are, and how they act, and realized that I deserve to have people around me who will accept me for me. That I am not too much. That I am enough. That I am deserving of everything good I want for my life. And because of the safety and love I have felt here, I only saw it fit to pour back into it because thats what we do for each other here.

No we dont all agree on things. Everyone has their own ships, their own headcannons, and thats okay. We can agree to disagree on things like this, and at the end of the day we will always have eachothers backs because we know what it is to be thrown to the side and no one should have fo feel like that.

Right now, I am seeing an obscene amount of transphobia, racism, and homophobia in the Harry Potter/ Marauders community, and it's devastating. People are being publically dead named right now because of headcannon disagreements. What the actual fuck?? Or I've seen some ppl go insane bc some ppl headcannon James Potter as mexican or desi. And some people headcannon sirius/remus/regulus as trans, and they are getting shit on too. What???

Do we not remember that we are talking about FICTIONAL CHARACTERS??? And that the marauders fandom makes fanfics... again. FAN... FICS. They are not cannon. Sometimes they arent supposed to be even close to cannon. It is fan based. Interpretations and expressions of said characters and story line. Dont like it? Turn the other way and find people, blogs, videos, stories, and headcannons that you DO like!

As for the treatment of other fellow fans here, im truly devastated about it. Trans people do NOT deserve this kind of treatment, especially here! Especially since this fandom is based on inclusivity, acceptance, and found family.

Whats even worse is the ppl who say Fuck JKR and hide behind that while STILL continuing to act against the lgbt community, marginalized groups, and other fellow marauder fans. You know who you are. Do better.

The world is already a scary place, and a scarier place for trans folk. With Tr!mp in office here in the states, its even scarier to see all of the excessive hate on my community and seeing less and less safe places available for both queer and trans people.

The safe places that trans people have are sacred, and thats how it should be here too

Forgetting the fact that marauders was during the 70s-80s (again the world is literally made up, logical time and the beliefs at that time dont have to follow), would James potter truly be a person to turn away a friend for being queer or trans. Think about it. Ill wait. Oh wait, I don't have to, because NO. NO HE WOULDNT! He found out Remus was a werewolf, a literal XXXXX creature that can brutily kill people one night of the month, and james said "yes, I accept him. And because of my friendship to him, I will research and go through the process of becoming an animagus because I care for my friend and he doesnt deserve to be alone." As did sirius and peter in the end.

Be more like James Potter. It is not difficult to respect people. Respect your fellow marauders & hp fans. Keep this a safe place for them, and all.

Thank you.

[code-swap]

That time of year is once again upon us! The sign ups for Code: Swap 2025 is here!

This year’s schedule:

Application period - March 1 - April 1

Matching period - April 1-7

Creation period - April 8 - June 15

Posting day - June 16

Rules

We have a strict no generative AI policy—it cannot be used in the creation of any gift.

Must be SFW

Please make sure you fill out everything on the form before submitting.

If you find yourself unable to complete your piece, please let us know ASAP so we may reassign accordingly!

You may request an extension on the due date, however if your gift is not posted within the extra week we will have to reassign your gift to one of our pitch hitters.

Please keep Dm's open and available to non-friends for the duration of Code: Swap. If discovered that a mod cannot contact you at any point, you will be removed from the event without warning.

FAQ

A Tumblr account is not required to join! Twitter, Instagram, Discord, email, ect. are all welcome! We will link any gift posted off of Tumblr on to the blog, as well as deliver gifts to off site participants. If you happen to make any mailable gifts (crochet, dolls, traditional art, etc.) we will not facilitate mailing of gifts—that’ll be between you and your giftee!

To join Code: Swap, just fill out the form below and wait for contact from one of our mods (Kittygirl255, Vexfulfolly, and Cosmicpines).

We couldn't be more thrilled for another year! The support and creativity we see each year brings us so much joy, and we are incredibly excited to see what this year brings!

Fill out the form here

[cosmichahn]

when candles burn out.

[i. SPRING]

abby anderson x scientist!reader

— 4 seasons with abby; seasons pass, feelings grow.

— notes: fluff, abby being silly, reader trying to be serious

“Can I help you, Abby?"

You were sitting on a stool, hanging at your usual spot. The Science District. Looking over a microscope, your eyes transferred to a visitor. She's tall, muscular, has dirty blonde hair, and, well, she's hot, but you had to shake those thoughts away. Not necessary nor relevant at the moment.

“I was just checking up on you." she replied with that beguiling smirk on her face. “I also got some honeysuckles for you.”

You thank her and place the flowers in a spare jar, walking over to the faucet and letting this bask in the sunlight by the window. “What made you so decent to me all of a sudden?" you joked, crossing your arms, furrowing your eyebrows. Head turning to face her.

“Nothing, my schedule's just free and I don't know what to do." Abby leaned over the door frame with her arms crossed. “So I'm here to see you."

What is she on about? Your eyebrows curved, wondering what really made Abby go here of all places. Why not where Manny is? Or maybe Lev. “Ok, Anderson." You went back to observing the moss-infused mushroom that you took. It was growing a couple of blocks away from your laboratory. “Just don't touch or mess with anything. Thanks."

The atmosphere of the room seemed off. You felt her eyes observing and wandering over her, and she knew it was going over your buttons. “Can you stop staring?” You sighed, looking annoyed. Abby’s nice, you knew that, but she liked getting under your skin which you’re not sure why or how come.

“No.” She said in a blatant manner.

“And why not?” You looked away from the microscope once more.

“Just want to.” Abby retorted.

You tried to hide the heat rising up your face, getting hit by one of her lines again. “Just go play some music or whatever. I have cassettes over there on the shelf.” Abby doesn’t have that much of a bad music taste anyway, so you just let her choose whatever was available.

She swiftly walked along the organized place, heading towards the mahogany shelf that you found lying somewhere and just cleaned it off. The options were not much, so she just ended up choosing a shuffled cassette. It had pretty cheesy songs that you found a guilty pleasure, but hey, they were actually good.

The opening of a random love song started to play. Abby looked at you, and you looked back. She started swaying along to the beat, giving you that childish look. Somehow it’s as if she wants you to join her. And she did. “You look very ridiculous right now.” You were trying to hold in a light laugh, but a sly smile still lingered in you. “I’m not gonna dance with you, Abby.”

“The best part’s coming on soon.” It was the chorus. Abby loved the chorus. She always hummed cheesy love songs whenever she was alone, reading a book, or doing some kind of errand that didn’t require her to patrol all over the area, but sometimes it was a random 90s punk song that she usually listened to. It reminded her of you. Almost everything reminded her of you.

“Don’t leave me hanging.” She walked up to you, waiting for you to give your hand. She can whisk you away like she always does, helping you escape your mind that never stopped thinking. She was your escapism in a world not full of it, sadly. You just wouldn’t admit it. Or perhaps you couldn’t. You liked Abby, that was all there was. You should at least try soon before things are too late, right?

With a bit of convincing that only lasted for ten seconds, you removed your gloves, placed the mushroom inside of a container with a bit of hole to help it breathe, and gave the right conditions to it. Afterwards, you stood up, walking awkwardly towards her. “I’m on my way…?”

Abby chuckled, she adored you and everything you were. She was bothered though. Bothered by your unending attachment to your work. Night and day, she passed by your lab doing other things, and you would just be so focused on your research with a mug in hand, filled with bad coffee that didn’t even help, but it was the only thing with caffeine that you can access, so whatever. Your work was important, yes, but your health was just as important. Sometimes you don't even sleep, you just drown yourself in your work. She is constantly worried about you, so she tries to find ways to press your buttons a little bit to loosen you up, but she’ll never cross your boundaries.

As soon as you walked up to her, she took your hands and held them dearly. Abby looked so tough, and yet here she is. Gentle. “You can come closer, you know.” She placed your hand on her waist, leaving you room to decide whether to move closer to her body. Slowly as each chord passed, your arm began to curl around her, practically giving her a hug now.

Your heart, it was calm, quiet. It flowed freely, that invisible string connecting the two of you. Soon, both of your arms are around her waist, holding her dearly. She rested her arms on both of your shoulders, trying not to put on too much weight. She’s heavy, of course she knew that. It was hard trying not to catch her eyes, and that’s exactly what you were trying to do. Avoid them. Her gaze was captivating. Her icy blue eyes that gave you warmth. Her gentle hands that felt as if it could heal every bruise and every scar.

Finally you met her gaze. Her eyes softened, she gave you a smile. The brightest one you’ve seen. Something always happened between the two of you. Moments like this to be exact, and yet… What even are the two of you? Abby never addressed that spark happening whenever you were around each other. She likes you, you know that. You like her, and she knows that too, so what’s keeping the two of you from going for it? You always wondered.

“Abby.” You called. She just looked at your eyes, caught in your enchantment. “Abby?” Tilting your head a little to the left. You let out a little snicker, but that toned down soon. “Abby.” Your left hand brushes that loose strand of hair to the side. Went from the strand of hair to her face, stroking the side of her cheek with your thumb. This, surprisingly, snapped her out of whatever hypnotism she had.

“Yes?” She finally answered.

“There’s something.” You replied as she listened in anticipation. “I have to tell you something."

“What are you gonna tell me?" Abby answered, trying to make her voice go softer.

You leaned in, tugging on her waist with a conspicuous devilish smile on your face. Teasing her wouldn't be so bad, right? She always did it anyway. Your thumb began tracing circles on her lower back, letting your fingers snake up beneath her shirt.

“Abigail…" You whispered.

“Mhm?" Abby murmurs.

“Lev's at the door." Quickly, your arms untangled around her, peeking behind her to see Lev trying not to let out a laugh. “See you later, Soldier.” And there she left, a pout in her face as she walked away, hearing distant playful scolds to Lev and he began teasing her even more.

i. SPRING ii. SUMMER iii. AUTUMN iv. WINTER

[fridgemissionmaster]

Beelzebub x Reader: March Prompt/Day 15 Blooming

Prompt list/available prompt requests here, making a fic everyday of march

“And these ones?”

“Uh…” Beelzebub had to careen his face over his shoulder to see the flower you were curious about. Clearly you had gotten a little excited and had forgotten why Beelzebub was out here, before you could apologize Beel spotted it. One of the archways. “That’s a hybrid, Sun Roses and… I’m not sure, but it’s what makes the sun roses smaller than usual and the leaves different.”

“Oh…” Beelzebub partially drew his attention back to the task at hand, trimming the hedges with those gigantic sheers. However he was always acutely aware of where you were. You were safe here, these were still the House of Lamentation’s grounds, and even with him holding gigantic sheers he’d never let them come to harm you. You sidled up beside him watching as he carefully avoided the flower buds so they wouldn’t get chopped off before their prime. “Maybe we could go to some of the gardening shops and see if we could find a match for the leaves.” Beel gave you a nod, likening the thought.

No, it’s just… he missed you after you left after the exchange program. No one knew if or even when you’d ever be coming back and the calls weren’t enough. Beel never had much to say yet there was still much he wanted to communicate to you, yet your conversations usually would drift to the going ons of the day and such. Things were much better when he could just be with you, and let the conversation flow naturally and not try forcing everything within hour time blocks once a week as per Lucifer’s rules.

You were back and he couldn’t help always keeping an eye on you. You’re family, nothing was ever the same after you left, sure his brothers were better than before but it wasn’t right. You’re family too, and friend, and… just so important.

He was really glad you came out here to visit him. He didn’t believe you ever really got a chance to explore the grounds, had you? If you did it must have been on your own time, no real tour like you might have gotten for the house. At least this had to have been your first time seeing the garden’s in the beginnings of spring. Most of them bloom around this time, this being when the garden was at it’s most colorful, and when it could easily get it’s most unkept what with everything seeming to grow faster.

Beelzebub didn’t particularly care about plants but of all his brother he was the best quipped for the job, gardening could be surprisingly rough at times. Admittedly he had gained a sort of fondness for them over time, and knowing more about them was useful during hikes.

It was around the time you first arrived actually, it was only more recently he learned of better method of trimming that didn’t hurt the hedges and leving them as completely flat walls, something a little more natural and healthy. It was still a lot to get through so big sheers were still required.

We was working when you showed up and just kinda stuck around. He rather liked your company actually. He could talk with you instead of the plants, but talking was still talking, and he talked a lot more than with just the shrubbery so it was a win-win for both him and his wards so to say.

It also wasn’t often you two had gotten the chance to be alone what with six other people all sharing the same space as you. It… felt off, he wasn’t sure how to describe it. So a moment like this, he was going to indulge in it as much as he could. Answer any question to the best of his abilities, ask you to spoil him a little feed him a bite of some snack as he worked when his hands were full, just get lost in the warmth of the moment. You didn’t have too but you wanted to help, collecting the trimmings into a cloth bag. Admittedly Beelzebub wished you didn’t, it would be one more thing for him to do so you could stay here longer.

…

He had to admit, it was strange to think like that. He liked seeing you happy with his brothers, but he also didn’t, it just…

“Ah! Almost got that one.” He avoided the newly opening bud, leaving it be.

“… Beel? You’ve been staring at the bud for a while.”

Snapping out of his daze he went back to work. “It reminded me of something.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Admittedly he hadn’t quite fully remembered it yet, but you’re important to him, and it’d be nice to include you in his life before your arrival.

“It was… after Lucifer declared war but before we fought. We were preparing, gathering and sharpening weapons, having strategy meetings, running and hiding waiting for our best chance. Lilith and I……… were talking about flowers?” It… had been so long since he had last thought back to this time. It was… a bit hazy now, mostly just feelings, the ones in him and the pain from those scars. It was hard to remember the time both in it’s contents and in how scattered and lost it was. “We… I followed Lilith out of hiding. She was tired and wanted space. She felt guilty for putting us through this, Lucifer had told her time and time again he declared war for other reasons. She made her choice and even if she thought it unfair would have taken the punishment but now we were all getting hurt and dragged into it and it was killing her.

… I asked he why she did it. I love her and my brothers, my family, and I’d break any rule to protect them but… something about how she was about her lover was… different than that. She told me her love for her lover was like a blooming flower. It was slow, and sudden all at once. It was the willingness to change from bud to flower, to wilted then back to bud again. It was selfish wanting to keep the person to yourself, it was selfless wanting the best for them. It was quiet always thumping in your chest and it was loud enough to make you lose you lose your footing. It was like a blooming flower because it was contradictions, both still a bud and an open flower, both at the same time, it…”

…

“Oh,”

So that’s it. He looked to you who was still beside him and couldn’t help smiling.

“I love you.”

[read-write-thrive]

I have been craving some regency romance and somehow theres only 2 fics that even come up under dbda regency on ao3 so here’s some thoughts (that may become a fic in the distant future but I don’t have the brain for it right this second)

I’m a bitch for historical accuracy so cw for that right out of the gate this will not be as neat and tidy as a certain popular book series/other Netflix show

Let’s go character by character shall we

Edwin to start

Theoretically that is a posh white boy with more book smarts than ppl skills but nothing too damning on that front so he’s an easy transplant

HOWEVER

If you take the gay thing into account

(And I could and have written multiple essays on the nuances of queerness in historical contexts)

THEN things can get interesting

Edwin’s demonic sacrifice at an all boys school at the hands of a jealous popular boy becomes a bit more metaphorical

In my head theres some awakening between the schoolboys but good ol internalised homophobia fucks everything up

Could have Sa’al even be an authority figure within the school if you want to get even more traumatic with it

Regardless Edwin’s stay in hell translates to a societal fall from grace / disownment / what have you

Would give some room to mess with class and societal norms at the time

And while I love the idea of Edwin participating in the tail end of the Molly house culture

(Especially gnc Edwin,,,,,,, thoughts are being thunk)

That does rob our story of any classic balls and dance scenes and such

That’ll be our first fork in the road I think: is Edwin still in the upper echelon at the time the story begins ?

If yes, cue Darcy’s theme. If not, Edwin should get to be an early drag queen

(Side note but if thinking later than regency I’d love to write a payneland as Fanny&Stella moment, could even have some ghostcrow or ghostcat,,,, again much to think about)

Take a shot for our first “they could be a sex worker” point

There will be more

I think I’ll leave Edwin there

Now for the rest of the main four let me repeat that I’m sticking with history a bit here

Bc imo race has to play a major factor in their backstories/characterizations

So if we move onto Charles next

White dad and Indian mum wouldn’t be completely unheard of esp putting his dad in a military context

(And lbr military snd abusers go hand in hand)

It’s a little early in the colonisation of India for his dad to have taken his mum as his wife officially and brought her back to the UK

But it would definitely have been possible

With this in mind Charles becomes a bit variable in terms of class status

His dad could be high ranking military or even a successful merchant which would grant Charles some inheritance and a bit of a boost

But Charles would never have been allowed at the same school as Edwin in this kind of thing

Could also put Rowland sr further down the chain of command and as such keep Charles low on the ladder

Regardless, Charles probably would’ve been expected to follow in his father’s footsteps in terms of profession and overall societal role

However once again we can translate death trauma to life trauma

Maybe his peers did make an attempt on his life that left him disabled in some fashion

Maybe his dickhead father would’ve gone further and end up injuring and/or disowning Charles as well

And while Charles ending up in a poorhouse is definitely possible

I am once again proposing sex work

(He’s too pretty for manual labour and I could see him being handy with pickpocketing while he’s at it)

(This also ties back to a Fanny&Stella-inspired AU but in a more Jack Dublin way ykwim)

But yeah shot #2 for pretty boy Charles

Moving onto Crystal

Arguably she has the most variation in backstory available of the bunch

Is she American? Is she legitimate? How rich is she/are her parents? Are her parents still an interracial couple? How far back are her African ancestors? Is she meant to inherit? Does she have siblings? Exactly how rich are her parents? How did they get that money? Etc etc etc

So many possibilities to work with

If you want her to run in the same circles as not-fallen Edwin you kinda have to put her as an illegitimate kid of someone without enough money to recognise her anyway yk

Two Black parents just wouldn’t have that kind of capital/status at the time

Putting her in that kind of position (aka precarious and v difficult socially) does lead to some interesting questions as to who she can interact with, when, what she’s expected to do with her life, etc

Lavender marriage Edwin and Crystal could be fun now that I’m thinking abt it….she’s rich enough that Edwin’s family has to go with it and Crystal actually gets some social currency…….

Tho god the societal prejudice she’d have to deal with in pretty much all of these options would be brutal fs

Lastly for this post: Niko my beloved

Shes probably the hardest to work with considering Japan’s isolationist policies and yk distance from the UK

I assume there had to have been exceptions to this but go do it hard to find discussion of any (I’m also working with a single braincell rn so bear with me)

I really don’t know how to resolve her as a historical mystery beyond like her relatives having left Japan either centuries earlier or secretly smuggled themselves/her out like two seconds ago

All interesting but idk enough to speak on them much unfortunately

See again the point on prejudice: not to say the boys would have a walk in the park but the girls would be treated awfully 110%

on that cheery note I’m going to try and sleep love you all hope you enjoyed feel free to riff on this hugs kisses

[sandyca5tle]

Slimeshifter HRT Story - Enquiries

I poured out of bed, forming myself into a humanoid form and walking over to my wardrobe. Today was the day I'd arranged to go and talk to Dr. Othek about the weirdness in my transition, as well as ask for any more information he had, so I'd want to get dressed. I hadn't actually told him anything about why I wanted to see him, just that I wanted to talk to him, in person, about some parts of my transition I had questions about.

I finished getting dressed and prepared to head out, quickly extending a few tendrils to grab my phone, purse, and keys from their places as I headed to the door, also using my tendrils to lock the door behind me while beginning to walk down the stairs of the apartment complex. Since starting shapeshifter HRT I'd actually found using my tendrils to do stuff without actually having to move close enough to use my hands incredibly useful. I'd practiced/tried this before of course, but it'd never quite worked before, like it did now, which I suspected was due to the fact that since starting shapeshifter HRT I've had that improved bodily connection, I kinda know what every part of me is doing - its shape and form clear in my mind - add in the ability to see from any part of my body from being a slime, and it's really easy to manipulate and do things with my tendrils now.

I stepped out into the cold morning air, instinctively shrinking a little to help keep myself warm - it was a less fun effect of my transition, not having an internal source of heat meant that the cold hit me a lot more - granted, I didn't need 37 degrees to keep functioning, but as the weather got close to freezing I'd found I had more and more problems, given I was a large percentage water. Despite retreating into my clothes somewhat, it actually wasn't cold enough to pose any risk, but nonetheless I quickly made my way to the clinic.

It really didn't take me long anymore to get to the clinic, perks of living within the city rather than having to travel to it, and I was glad to get out of the cold, quickly talking to the receptionist to confirm my appointment before being directed to the waiting room. As before, I was glad to make use of the tail hole the chairs have, something that I had come to realise was better in Hyper City than back home, but was still very much appreciated as so many places weren't great at accommodating us. On the note of 'us', as I looked around, I once again spied a few people also on various forms of AHRT, a couple I recognised from my previous visits, smiling to myself at seeing the progress they had had. I also noted that generally the creatures here were generally further along, although there were a few who were clearly just starting, which made sense I supposed, it had been at least 2 years since this had become majorly available, so there's plenty of folks who were a good ways into their transition.

It wasn't much longer quietly musing to myself before I was called up, and pointed to the doctor's office - even if I already knew where it was.

"Ah, Miss Sandy, good to see you again," Dr. Othek announced with a wave

"Nice to see you again too!" I replied, smiling

"So, I understand you arranged this appointment to talk about some questions and queries you had about your transition," As he stated this he had a somewhat odd look on his face that I couldn't quite decipher, but it almost seemed like he was trying to say more than he was "I hope everything is going fine with your new medication?" He asked, now changing to a more genuine expression, one of concern

"Oh, yeah, no problems with the shapeshifter meds, been great so far, you should see what I'm doing with my tendrils," I told him. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk appearing on his face before I quickly realised what I'd said "Just for like grabbing items and- it's like having a bunch of extra arms that can just grab things for me," I quickly explained with a slight blush "I mean, they literally are as far as I'm concerned, just thinner and without fingers," I added thoughtfully

He chuckled "I'm glad you're not having any issues with your treatment," He said professionally "But if you're not here about that then what are you here about?"

"Well, we kinda talked about it last time," I tapped the middle of my torso, indicating my core "But I'd love to know where all my slime is stored," I told him "I mean, I seem to just be able to store endless amounts of matter within myself, which I'm fairly certain is impossible, unless I've got a TARDIS inside me now, which is equally impossible," I explained

"Maybe you just have a large internal capacity," The doctor posited

"Even then I've got more mass than could reasonably fit within something the size of my core, at least not without causing some kind of issue. I mean, you've seen my dragon form, and I can go a lot bigger than that, with that kind of mass condensed into such a small space you'd think something would happen? Instead I'm completely fine, no collapsing in on myself,"

The doctor's eye's widened "Even bigger?" He muttered "I suppose you're right though, that much mass inside such a concentrated area would have some kind of effect," He agreed

"Do you have any idea how it works? I mean, you prescribe the stuff, I hoped you'd know about it," I asked

Dr. Othek looked down, ashamed "I must confess - no, I do not know - or at least not specifics" He told me, much to my surprise and horror. He looked up at my face, seeing my reaction "Before you worry, I know the procedure is safe - or as safe as this kind of thing can be - but I cannot honestly say I fully understand it." He said "I know what is healthy in a human, and I know what is healthy in most animals, so for many patients I have been able to approximate what a healthy midpoint is - of course there has been issues, but in a multidimensional nexus filled with magic, there is always something I can do to help remedy those problems," He paused to breathe "Even the dragons, the sirens, the lamias, there is enough information on each of them that I can guess what works for them, and they're close enough to some terrestrial animals that I have those as references." He let out a sigh "But, for people like you, those whose species are so far divorced from 'normal', I have no reference," He explained "I mean, of course I've tried my best, and as I told you, I believe that it's as safe as it can be, but my information is sorely lacking…" He trailed off

"If you didn't know what you were doing, why did you do this?" I asked, a little anger bubbling through my curiosity

"Because I wanted to help!" He said back to me "And I heard that the only supplier for you all wasn't exactly helpful. So I looked into it and found this company was looking for doctors to partner with to help with distributing the meds to those in need as well as making sure they were healthy, so I starting working for them," He took a pause "At first it was fine - they only had a small selection, and most to all of the effects were documented. But then, as they developed more and more treatments, the documentation on effects and standards became less and less reliable, with patients reporting more and more effects that I was unaware of, and it's honestly felt more and more experimental… And I mean that, I've done a little bit of poking around, and the medicines they're prescribing I can't find any record of them being tested properly,"

My eyes widened a bit at that, and I could tell he seemed distressed about all this, so I bit back the irritation that had been growing at having all of this hidden from me and others like me "So why continue? Why not leave and say something?"

He smiled sadly "Because I want to help. If I leave and say something, then best case the company gets shut down, but that leaves so many folk like you without your medicine," That hit home for me - I hardly wanted to give up this miracle, even if the people behind it seemed questionable in their methods. "Worst case nothing comes of it, I get fired, and they get a less scrupulous doctor who'll just go along with their experiment to God knows what end," He took a breath "So I stay, find out what I can without arousing suspicion and help my patients navigate whatever happens so they can get the body they want,"

I looked at him as he finished talking, the cheerful demeanour he'd always presented with had all but vanished, instead replaced by a man who was tired and stressed "Thank you," I said "I mean, obviously, not a fan of being given experimental meds without my consent, but thank you for trying to keep us all safe and help us,"

"I don't do it for the thanks…. but it is nice to hear it," He replied, rubbing an eye under his glasses "As I've said I can't look much more into whatever is going on, in case they decide to fire me for looking into whatever they're doing, but if you want to look into it yourself, I can point you in the direction of some information sources I've found, may as well have someone look into it, see if it's really as bad as I think," I blink a little in surprise at him "You don't have to of course, it's up to you,"

"Uh, no, it'd probably be goo-d for someone to look into it - I can certainly try, but I'm not sure if I'll find anything," I told him

"An attempt is better than nothing,"

I nodded "I'll try,"

He took a breath, pulling his cheery demeanour back together "Well! It's nice to have that off my chest - nice to have someone to talk to about it," He said "I wish I could have given you better answers miss Sandy, but I hope this conversation has at least been helpful,"

I smiled and nodded "Not quite what I expected, but it's certainly given me some things to think about, thanks doctor,"

We both stood up, giving a handshake, before I headed back out of the office, waving goodbye to the receptionist as I did so.

The walk back consisted of me mostly being lost in thought, mulling over everything the doctor had said - that, while safe, my and others' medication were unknowns, and potentially experimental, which added the extra questions of whether or not we had all been incorporated into one big experiment without even knowing. These thoughts churned away in my mind even as I reached my flat, opening the door, with my claws rather than a tendril this time, and entered, quickly deserting my clothes near the door and leaping onto the sofa, pooling a little as I let my body relax in a way I wasn't sure my mind would for a while.

I had some shit to work out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Sorry it's been a while since the last part of this, got distracted by another project, but dw still continuing this story, and honestly I think the break did me some good. But yeah, hope y'all enjoy the first bit of this where I'm starting to set up some of what is gonna run alongside the normal transition entries of this second part of the series! First - Prev - Next Writing Masterlist Tags under the cut (Let me know if you want to be added)

@calliecwrites, @friedsputnik, @now-entering-the-goop-zone, @scrubbinn, @lilacinthefog,

@mint-and-authoress, @losttodreams, @redroversendjayover, @ariathelamia, @kanithecatdemon

[nsfw-sensual-whisper]

Moving out to my website...

Hello, fellas!

I’m here to announce that I’m moving all of my content to my website and will be disappearing from Tumblr for good. All of my blogs will be deleted within a week, so if you still want to enjoy my series and other stories, please visit: sensualwhisperstories.pl.

I made this move because my website gives me complete freedom—no restrictions, no risk of bans—so I no longer have to keep my content PG. I believe this is the best choice for me, especially considering the direction I plan to take the series in the next few episodes... if you know what I mean. 😉

On top of that, creating videos in two different formats for multiple platforms is incredibly time-consuming. I mean, I only have two hands, and I do need to eat and sleep too! There’s simply not enough time for all of it. 😅

Thank you all for your support here! Everything I’ve posted on my two main blogs, nsfw-sensual-whisper and sensual-whisper-series, is already available on my website. I hope to see you there! 💖

meanwhile... enjoy my favourite edit of Professor Sallow... 😉

[guardian-of-time-if]

Sooo I'm here in my basement, waiting out a nasty storm/tornado(?), wondering... how would the ROs react if they and MC were separated during a huge deadly storm. The way things are looking, the place where MC was carried to doesn't seem to have a lot of survivors. The chances of MC surviving the storm are weak.

Then, some time much later, they hear MC calling for them while at a shelter. They turn, see MC running to jump into their arms in relief. MC survived the storm and managed to lead a few other survivors to safety.

I hope everything is okay and you stayed safe Anon.

(I’m assuming if MC is jumping into their arms this in the relationship stage or at the very least have very strong feelings for each other.)

For the separation part:

Luk: His anxiety would be so high, he would not be able to stay still. He’d be pacing, and constantly looking out the window for any news. In Nytheries the most common deadly storm they’d have is a blizzard, so he might actually send his bear out in the snow to find MC if he was worried enough.

Tzesar: Yeah no, either he is using his magic to teleport himself to MC or MC to him.

Sentinel: This dumbass would actually go out in the storm until he found her. All sense of self-preservation would go out the window. Other people would have to physically stop him and keep an eye on him for the rest of the storm. 

Naxok: He’s worried, but forces himself to trust that MC can take care of herself, so that he can focus on everyone who’s actually with him. Just because he’s worried about MC doesn’t mean that he stops being responsible for the rest of his crew. If he’s not around any of his crew members, then he inserts himself into the group of wherever is in charge because if he doesn’t distract himself, he’s going to do something stupid.

Albien: Does not like this, at all, but like Naxok, he forces himself to focus on what needs to be done to protect those around him. If for whatever reason he’s not expected to be in charge, he’s making sure that everyone else is okay. 

Gaderous: Distracted and worried. I assume that as a physician, he’s in high demand by the others in shelter. He tries his best to help, but his work is sloppier than usual, and it’s obvious half his mind is with MC

For the reunion:

Luk: Is so relieved, he might cry. (Really wouldn’t want to in front of others, but the fear would have been eating him up so bad he might not be able to help it.) He very stubbornly would not leave the MC’s side for the next day or two. 

Tzesar: Assuming his teleportation didn’t work, he’d also be incredibly relieved. He’s also stunned because he assumed his magic not working meant something happened to her, so he’d just be standing there with her wrapped around him. 

Sentinel: Yesh, he’s not putting MC down anytime soon. He’s proud of her for leading all those people to safety but also pissed she had to do it alone. (But it is very apparent to everyone who was in the safe location with him, that he is much less agitated with MC back.)

Naxok: He’s so proud of her for leading all those people to safety. Yeah, his MC is a hero. He’s also very glad she’s back, and it’s going to be an enthusiastic reunion. Almost immediately finds somewhere where they can be just the two of them, to talk about what happened to MC while she was gone.

Albien: He scoops up MC in his arms, relieved to have her back, and his nerves begin to settle. As much as he’d like to spend time with just MC, he makes sure all the people she rescued get settled in first. Then he gets some food for them to talk over, assuming MC didn’t have a lot of that available navigating a storm.

Gaderous: First, he’ll accept her hug and kiss her.  Second, he’s checking her for injuries, and insists on patching her up if she’s in anything less than perfect condition. He’s also not above pretending her injuries are more serious than they are to get her away from everyone else. Unless, MC specifically asks, he’s not going to check anyone else for injuries though, just MC.