#but it was about time to stop worrying and wondering

[pitchsidestories]

fight like a girl II Ona Batlle x Reader

masterlist I moodboard I word count: 2202

pairings: Ona Batlle x Reader (romantic), Barcelona Femení x Reader (platonic)

warnings: disgusting men, mentioning of blood

“Look who has finally arrived.” Jana noticed you first when you stepped into the restaurant where the Barcelona women were having dinner. She was one of the closest friends of your girlfriend Ona in the team and you couldn’t help but to smile at her.

You might be small in height, but you always left quite an impression despite that. Even though your arm muscles were hidden underneath an oversized sweater you have stolen from your lover.  

“Hi everyone, sorry for being so late.”, you apologized, nervously redoing your ponytail.

“No worries, come here.”, Ona padded on the free chair next to her, her jaw looked tense. Something about the atmosphere was off.

You wondered why but the answer to the question in your head came promptly through a man and his male friend, you could hear the alcohol loosened their tongues in a way which made the women around the table deeply uncomfortable.   

“Oh, there’s another one.”, the taller man punched playfully into his mate's side.

“Not bad either if you know what I mean.”, the smaller but bulkier wiggled his eyebrows.

“Sorry, we asked them to leave several times now.”, Alexia sighed, she’s been clearly tired by their behaviour.  

“But they didn’t listen?”, you stood up abruptly from your seat next to her girlfriend.

“Y/n.”, Ona begun concerned, trying to stop you from doing something possible very stupid.  

“Let me deal with them.”, you asked her to, looking into her worried brown doe like eyes.

“Don’t.” she shook her head determined.

“But-.” you started.

“Just ignore them.”, your girlfriend begged gently.

“Come on you just finished training you need to drink and eat something y/n.”, Mapi changed the topic smoothly.

The older defender was right, in the box ring you forgot time and almost everything else. If you were honest with you were quite hungry at this point in the evening. Yet it was so hard to ignore the men close by.

 “Oh, she’s the baby of the group? What’s your name, beautiful?”, he cooed.

“Not your fucking business.”, you shot back grumpily.

“Oh, she’s a feisty one. You know how to make yourself interesting to men, huh?”, the smaller man grinned dirtily.

“Sorry to hurt your little ego guys but I’m not interested in men at all I’m a lesbian.”, you smiled smugly as you thanked the waitress for bringing you all the drinks before taking a big gulp of your beer waiting for their response.

It was like a dance in the boxing ring, attack, waiting for the response, defending and you wanted them to leave so you could have a nice peaceful evening with friends. But the other truth was you simply loved playing a dangerous game. Some might even say you were addicted to it.

“You just haven’t had the right one yet.“, one of the men replied with a laugh.

You almost rolled your eyes. Not even a creative insult. “How many times have I heard that sentence before? But I hate to break it to you, it’s a no.“

Instinctively you reached for Onas hand under the table.

The men remained unimpressed. The taller one flashed you a toothy grin and turned towards Jana: “Fine then. I’ll just take one of your friends.“

You wanted to laugh. None of the girls would even look at a sleazy guy like him. But you knew men like that. If women didn’t want him, he would get more aggressive until he got what he thought was his. You decided to keep your eyes fixed on him.

“No, you won’t.“, you said calmly.

He snorted: “What are you going to do about it?”

That was the moment you could feel your brain go into autopilot. Anger spread through your body like a wildfire, burning hot in your stomach and your chest. Your hands curled into fists, your nails digging into your skin as you slipped from your seat. There was nothing you hated more than being underestimated.

“You should be scared.“, you said plainly.

The tall man burst into laughter: “Of you? You’re tiny!”

His laugh was like gasoline to fire, only feeding your rage.

“And you’re tall with not a lot of brain to match your height apparently!”, you snapped at him.

He considered you for a moment before he ordered: “And you only have a big mouth so sit back down!”

With a frown, you took a step towards him: “I will. If you stop harassing my girlfriend and our friends!”

“Harassing?!”, he echoed and glared at you. “What are you on about? We’re just talking to them!”

“But they’re clearly not interested.“

You got angrier with every word out of his mouth but you also got this perverse sense of pleasure out of arguing with him.

“Amor, your food has arrived.“, Ona interrupted you. Her voice was gentle and cautious.

You waved her off: “I’m not hungry right now.“

“Please.“, she asked but your focus was back on the two men.

“I’m only asking you to leave on more time.“

The first man bent down to you like an adult would do with a young child. “Or what? You’re not scary at all, little one.“, he sneered.

That was all it needed. You swung at him and struck him right in the face. There was the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking and blood dripping on the floor. You heard the gasps from the football players behind you.

“Fuck! You fucking bitch!”, he cursed under his breath. You waited for him to lunge at you but he was too busy trying to stop the bleeding.

“I warned you.“, you said cooly and shot a warning look at his friend, signalling that you were ready to break a second nose that night.

“Time to leave, girls.”, Alexia announced in her captain voice.

“Please.”, Ona muttered.

“No, she’s got to pay for this!”, the man who you didn’t injure demanded hissing.

“What? You want your nose broken too?!”, you replied shaking your head in disbelief. Alarmed your girlfriend called your name but you couldn’t help to add. “That was no coincidence. I know how to do it.”

“Yes, but they aren’t worth it.”, she whispered into your ear.  

“Everyone harassing my friends is worth it.”, you told her fiercely while her teammates and you slowly made your way out.

“These men could’ve hurt you.”, Ona remarked. There was worry swinging through her words.

“No, they couldn’t. I’m a good boxer.”, you disagreed confidently as you wrapped protectively an arm around the brunette’s shoulder.

“I know you’re, what I’m trying to say is that you don’t need to protect us.”, she explained softly.

“He deserved that broken nose though.”, Mapi commented chuckling from behind.

“See?”, you grinned triumphantly at your lover.

“Just great, Maria.”, Ona groaned in frustration.

“Good night, girls.”, the older defender said with an innocent smile on her lips as she went for Ingrids hand to start the walk to their home.

“That’s our cue to leave too. Night.”, Jana declared.

“Goodbye, text me all when your home.”, the captain of the team hugged everyone before going her own way.

“Your captain can be such a mum, Oni.”, you smirked amused. The balmy night air felt nice against your skin, it made what happened in the bar appear like a faint memory.  

It didn’t have the same effect on your girlfriend for her the scene of you hitting that man was still replaying in her mind. Alone the thought of it made her heart sank.

“If she were more of a mum, she would’ve stopped you from doing that.”, Ona objected.

“Not that again.”, you grumbled.

Once you reached the safe walls of your home the adrenaline has worn off and your fingers started to hurt which didn’t get unnoticed by the defender even though you tried your best to hide your pain from her.

“Wait, I’ll get some ice.”, Ona noted.

“I’m fine.”, you assured her quickly. Although your sayings turned out to be useless, she was already up getting something to ease your hurt.

“No, you’re not I can tell that from the look on your face.”, the brunette sounded mad, but despite that there was a tenderness in the way she took care of you despite her furiousness.

“Ona…“, you whispered quietly, in hopes to calm her down but also because you weren’t sure what to say next. Of course, she had seen right to you even when you tried to ignore the throbbing pain in your hand. Your knuckles were still red and swollen.

“Yes?”, Ona asked. Her voice was tense as she took in the damage on your hand and gently applied some ice.

You watched her hold your injured hand in the dim light, her gaze directed downwards.

Only when she looked up with an inquiring expression on her face, you remembered to speak.

“I didn’t mean to… you know? I just never know what to do with my anger.“ You bit your lip. Nothing that came out of your mouth did your feelings justice. Nothing conveyed the message enough that you weren’t malicious, you were just an angry girl. Something that people didn’t want to see for some reason.

Onas eyes softened. She sighed quietly: “I know. And you don’t need to fight all the time. We could have handled that as a group together, not just you alone. Besides I get angry too, but only on the pitch.“

“That’s different.“ You blew out a short, hard breath of frustration. That was not even remotely comparable.

Ona nodded slowly: “Yes, you’re right… still.“

“Yes. Maybe. But I’m tired, Ona. Everyone sees my anger as something bad when it’s not!”

You regretted saying it as soon as Ona looked away again.

“You need to sleep…“, she said softly.

But you both knew it was not that kind of tiredness you were talking about.

You pulled your hand away from her: “No, you don’t get it. It helped me a lot in the past!”

“You never tell me anything about that so how am I supposed to know?”, Ona asked, frowning with her jaw set.

“I was telling you now!“, you retorted, rolling your eyes in annoyance.

Ona remained calm, unfazed by your rage: “Go on.“

To your surprise, her composure seemed to rub off on you.

“Doesn’t matter anymore. All you need to know is that I’m not ashamed of my anger.“

She shook her head determinedly, clearly not ready to let you sweep that topic under the rug: “No. I want to hear everything, the whole story. You don’t have to sugarcoat anything. Plus, I want you to teach me how to box.“

You blinked at her: “Wait. You do?”

“Yes, I do.“, she replied, leaving no room for doubt.

You studied her face. She looked so serious.

You could feel your heart beat faster thinking about Ona in a boxing, just because you loved the sport, just to get to know you better.

“How about I’ll take you boxing tomorrow?”, you suggested.

Ona finally smiled: “Sure.“

“And then we can talk.“

Ona and you went early to the gym the following day, mainly because it meant that you were completely alone. The morning light streamed through the large windows and highlighted the boxing ring which stood in the centre of the room. This was the place you felt most at ease and somewhere your anger wouldn’t be judged.

You recognized how your girlfriend struggled a bit with her boxing gloves, carefully you helped her to put them on.

Curiously she looked up to you. “When did you’ve to learn to fight for yourself?”

“When I was very young. People always made sure I knew that I was very different from them.”, you confessed alone the thought of it made you shudder.

“It must have been very painful for you especially when you were so young.”, Ona replied empathetically, the defender didn’t know she wasn’t standing right.

Gently you moved her into the right stance before continuing your story.

“Yes, and then people were surprised when I got angry for being treated differently.”

A cloud moved in front of the sun and darkened the whole room.

“And the boxing ring was a place to deal with your anger?”, the defender wanted to know genuinely interested.

“Well, when we had to flee from my home country, we were feeling so helpless and I never wanted to feel like this again. That’s a story for another time.”, you explained quickly.

With a cheeky smile on your lips, you advised her. “Hands up we want to protect your pretty face.”

While you showed her the essential boxing moves, Ona stopped your movement for a moment urging you to take her all in. “No, I want the full story.”

“Alright, but it’s going to be a long one.”, you warned the brunette.

You have circled around this topic for so long it was time to face it. And two things you were certain about, one your girlfriend was strong enough to handle what you’d tell her and second you were brave enough to speak about it.

Fight like a girl wasn’t an insult to both of you it was a compliment.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Could I request Feyd and reader’s wedding from “his”? Or maybe how her life changes once she’s his wife and not his mistress? I lovelovelove all the prequels, but I’m so interested to see their future together!

Forever His

Feyd-Rautha x concubine!reader

Notes/Warnings: barely smut. discussions of babies. thank you for the request and for reading <3

Words: 1350

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

You’re his now. Completely. Entirely. 

Before, anyone could have attempted to touch you, talk to you, insult you—though unwise—and no one but Feyd would have blinked an eye. Neither would they have assumed that such disrespectful behavior toward you would result in their death. A concubine is meant to be touched, spoken to however one pleases, insulted if it’s what a man needs to relieve the stress and frustration from his body. With the exception of Leto Atredies, Feyd’s the only Lord you’ve heard of who has ever given a fuck about the concubine they keep while simultaneously demanding respect for them. And on his part to ensure that, Feyd put secret rules in place when it came to you that men did not often follow. 

Being so heartless by nature, no one would expect a Harkonnen to care about anyone other than themselves—it’s risky to hint that the cold-blooded are capable of running a little warmer than rumor suggests—and for Feyd to lay out his care for you to the masses would have undoubtedly led to your death, whether by the hands of enemies or the Baron himself. But that didn’t stop Feyd from enforcing his rules and the repercussions for breaking them.

Those rules led to the deaths of many, most dramatically of his brother and a Caladanian diplomat, and it’s a wonder Feyd was able to talk himself out of the responsibility for their lives when the Baron called for an explanation. But he did. Feyd kept you alive, untouched by others, unbothered by others, respected by others because you were always his. His, at first labeled so in one way, and now, labeled so in another—as a wife. 

His wife. A Lady once more—not of your home planet, but of Giedi Prime—and though your renewed status may not change the way a Harkonnen man needs to present himself to the universe, Feyd can now be who he wants to be without the Baron lifting an eyebrow. He doesn’t have to pretend not to care for you as deeply as he does, and neither do you have to fear the choices he was making for your sake. 

From the moment Feyd kissed you in front of those who declared the validity of Geidi Prime marriages, your worries were instructed to fall in line with the duties of a wife. But with Feyd—for Feyd—it’s easy. Be his woman; stand by his side; and bear him an heir. And those things, you can do. 

—

His fingers are digging into your hips, helping guide your movements as you grind and shift your hips. He never let you on top before, and he never answered you when you asked why, but you knew it was his method of protection. A psychological need that extended to the physicalities of sex. He had to be the looming one, the consuming one, the one who shielded the other from dangers that were not present in the confines of your room. But that changed as your title changed. You’re allowed to be freer now—uninhibited—and Feyd has been willing to teach you how.

His back teeth clench, jaw sharpening with his final grunt of pleasure. With his hand on your neck, he pulls you down, lips claiming yours as he spills inside of you for the third time in the night. 

Your chest rises and falls in sync with his as you come down from the high, and then he rolls you onto your back, remaining inside of you to keep his seed from leaving your body. “Do you think it worked this time?” you ask as you regain even breaths. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he says as he tries to do the same. “We aren’t going to stop until you’re pregnant with my heir. We aren’t going to stop even once you are.”

Your chuckle is cut short by another press of his lips. Then, there is a press on your jaw. Then another on your neck. Then that kiss turns into little bites that are sure to leave marks. It feels too good to stop him, though you probably should. One of the things that works against you as a wife that did not as a concubine is the marks he makes on your body that cannot be covered by clothing. Nibbles, scratches, bruises—all acceptable on the skin of a concubine. Not as much on the skin of a bride. But it’s a propriety that Feyd could not care less for. 

“Feyd…” The vibration from his hum tickles your throat. “I’ll get stares.” Glares, more like. 

He pulls back with a quirked brow. “Ladies from other Houses eye the marks I give you and suddenly you’re bothered? What for?” He hums again, low, deep. His voice matches. “They’re jealous their Lords don’t fuck them like I fuck you.”

You snicker. “Maybe.”

Not maybe, definitely. However, you know it extends past the attention those women do not receive from their men. The fact that you were a concubine at all raises their hackles. While the Emporer and Lords have their meetings, the Ladies sit aside, offering words when requested but otherwise remaining silent, and in that silence, they have much time to think and scrutinize and judge. 

They don’t care that you were a Lady of your own planet before Feyd; they care what Feyd made you and then remade you when he decided he loved you. And now, you remind them too much of their own circumstances: a wife competing with a concubine. Except you were the concubine and then the wife while they are the wives shadowed by concubine counterparts. You’re an image of what they will never have and what their husbands wish they could have with the women they’d prefer. 

“They’re never going to like you,” Feyd interrupts your thoughts when he sees you’re lost.

“I don’t need them to like me,” you tell him. You prefer the company of the other concubines anyway—those brought alongside the wives for their Lords. Despite the complexities of your past, you connect with them better. “But either way, you need to be more considerate.”

“No,” he counters, “I need to fuck and touch and kiss my new wife however I want, and she needs to condemn anyone who gives her trouble for it.” You mock a gasp of offense. “You expect me to hold myself back with you? You want me to restrain myself when I’m trying to put a baby inside of you?”

“You make it sound silly.”

“It is,” he says. “I don’t whine about the marks you make on me.”

“Because Lords marvel at badges of honor,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. 

Feyd’s chuckle is your favorite sound. You rarely heard it before your wedding—he was always too stressed over you, concerned about your well-being—but you became addicted the moment it hit your ears. 

You wince at the discomfort of him finally pulling out, and your body instinctively follows as if to keep him where he was. When he falls onto his back, he tucks you into his side. 

“What do you think it’ll be?” he suddenly asks you.

You’re momentarily thrown off until you realize where his mind has shifted. Snuggling against him, you say, “I don’t care. As long as it’s healthy.”

“It will be,” he says.

“And as long as we can keep it safe,” you add.

Feyd swallows. You know there’s a part of him that is aware the life you have is not the life you were meant to have; that this life is a product of your lack of safeguarding; that you were taken as a prize; that he took you. And no matter the joy you’ve expressed or your previous unwillingness to consider leaving him—not that he ever entertained returning you—trying to have a child has made it impossible for him to forget how you met. He struggles. Something in you appreciates that about him. It means you helped to change him for the better. It means when he becomes a father, he will approach it differently than his own parents once did. 

“We can,” he promises you. “And we will.”

[amiableness]

Peonies ; part two

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Theo has been taking his role of helping reader get over Mattheo very seriously.

Word Count: 4842

Warnings: Unrequited love & Veronica isn't the kindest. Let me know if there's more; I probably forgot something.

A/N 💌 Thank you for your patience with me on this part; I know it took a while! As always, thank you to @moonpascal for reading and sharing your thoughts/ideas with me! Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter!

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

It’s well past midnight when a knock echoes at your door. You sigh, adjusting your shorts as you reluctantly crawl off your bed, leaving your notes sprawled across the covers. As you swing the door open, you find Theo standing there, his gaze lifting from the floor to meet yours. A hesitant smile plays on his lips, as if he’s unsure whether he’s welcome at this late hour.

“Hi.” You greet him with a mix of confusion and warmth, offering a sweet smile. You pull the door open wider, and Theo’s gaze briefly flickers over your tiny sleep shorts and oversized shirt before he meets your eyes again.

“Pansy’s at our dorm.” He says, his voice soft.

You let out a quiet laugh, “I know that.”

He hesitates, searching for the right words. “I just thought... maybe you wouldn’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised, your lips parting as you glance over your shoulder into your room. Theo’s heart races, a wave of panic surging through him as he mentally scolds himself for not holding back. Offering to stay the night with you felt impulsive, but the moment he saw Pansy enter his dorm, his thoughts had gone straight to you.

“Shit,” Theo shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. “I just—when I saw Pansy, I couldn’t help but think you might need someone tonight. But if you’d rather be alone, I can go.”

After you asked Theo to help you get over Mattheo, you wondered if it had been too much to ask of him. But to your surprise, you’ve spent nearly every day of the past three weeks with Theo. You knew he had his own worries—between school, Quidditch, and the pressure from his father. But the morning after you asked for his help, he was there. 

You never expected him to put so much effort into helping you move on from Mattheo, but you couldn’t be more grateful. 

“No,” you quickly respond, a smile spreading across your face as you reach out and grasp his hand, gently tugging him inside. “I’m glad you came.”

Theo visibly relaxes at your touch, allowing you to gently pull him into the room. As the door clicks shut behind him, sealing out the quiet corridor, his initial hesitation melts away. He takes in the familiar surroundings of your room, which, despite being a bit messier than usual, feels even more comforting in the warm, dim light with you.

He swallows his disappointment as you release his hand to clear your bed of scattered notes. Standing there awkwardly, he tries to keep his gaze focused, making an effort not to let his eyes drift down your legs as you lean over to pick up the last piece of parchment.

After you place everything neatly on your desk, you turn to face him, leaning casually against the edge with a soft smile. “Are you okay with sharing my bed again?” you ask, your voice light but sincere. “Or if you’d prefer, I can sleep in Pansy’s bed so you’ll have more room.”

Theo bites his tongue, fighting to keep his voice steady and avoid sounding overeager. He doesn’t want more room; what he wants is to wake up with you pressed close against him, just as he did weeks ago. This time, though, he’s determined to stay and enjoy the feeling of you in his arms.

He clears his throat, “Your bed is fine.”

“I was actually about to head to bed before you knocked, but I can stay up if you wanted to do something.” You offer, your voice gentle and inviting.

Theo shakes his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “Thanks, but I’m pretty wiped out from practice today.” He admits, and you can hear the exhaustion seeping through his words.

“You should’ve gone to bed at your dorm, you would’ve been asleep sooner.” You say with a slight frown as you notice just how tired he looks from the day.

“No,” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing you were here alone.”

If your heart could have melted, it would have done so right then.

Theo's eyes hold yours for a moment longer before he glances away, almost as if he's embarrassed by his own admission. You press your lips together, trying to hide the giddy smile threatening to break through. The idea that he cared that much for you made your insides flutter, warmth spreading through your chest.

Pushing away from the desk, you walk over to your bed and pull back the covers. Theo watches as you crawl in, adjusting the pillows with practiced ease before looking back at him. The unspoken question hangs in the air—are you going to join me?

He hesitates, slowly dropping his bag at the foot of your bed before moving closer to the edge. He’s slept in a bed with a girl before, but this feels wildly different. You make him nervous, and he has no idea how to hide it when he’s this close to you.

You settle into the covers, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight as you shift, and watch as Theo does the same, kicking off his shoes and slipping under the covers beside you.

Once the lights are off, silence settles between you, thick and unspoken. The only sound in the room is the soft rustling of sheets as Theo shifts beside you. You lie on your side, trying to make out his form in the darkness as your eyes slowly adjust. You can tell he’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me the past couple weeks.” You say softly, and Theo turns his head to look at you.

“Yeah?”

You hum, reaching out your fingers to brush against his hand, and he takes it without hesitation, his grip warm and reassuring, “Yeah.”

It’s become a habit in the last couple of weeks—intertwining his fingers with yours. He would grab your hand every time he noticed your discomfort around Mattheo and Veronica. And at some point, you just started reaching for his hand yourself. You liked the warmth of his palm against yours and the way he’d brush his thumb over the back of your hand.

“You know I don’t mind, right? Spending all this time with you has been nice. We never really hung out much, just us two.” He says softly.

You nod, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. “Yeah, I know. It’s been nice for me too,” you admit, your eyes meeting his in the dark. You both fall into silence, and it doesn’t take long before you drift off to sleep, your hand still clasped in his.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Panic hits as you suddenly realize the time—you’re running late. By now, you should already be at breakfast.

“Theo,” you whisper urgently, trying to shift out of his hold. The sheets are tangled around your legs, your back pressed firmly against his chest. His arms are locked around your waist, holding you close, and he’s not loosening his grip. His body is warm against yours, and even as you try to move, his grip tightens slightly, like he’s not ready to let go just yet. “Theo.”

“Dolcezza,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, and you freeze at the sound of that deeper, morning rasp. “Quit moving.” His grip tightens just enough to keep you still, his breath warm against the back of your neck.

“We have to get up,” you huff, trying to slip out of his arms, but Theo just pulls you back against him, his hold firm. “We’re late.”

“We’ll just skip.” He mutters, his voice still low and groggy. The idea is tempting—staying wrapped in his warmth instead of braving the cold corridors—but you sigh inwardly, knowing better.

You’d grown used to Theo’s small gestures of affection over the past few weeks, and you’d been just as affectionate in return. But waking up tangled in his arms like this felt different—more intimate. You were certain that once Theo fully woke up, he’d be a little sheepish about how closely he was holding you now.

“We really can’t,” you sigh, trying once more. “We need to get going—” Theo grumbles in response, finally loosening his grip and releasing you. A triumphant smile tugs at your lips as you slip out of bed, quickly heading to get ready. You race through brushing your teeth and pull on your uniform, skipping any attempt at fixing your hair in the rush. By the time you step out of the bathroom, Theo is standing by the bed, just finishing the last button on his shirt, looking just as disheveled as you feel.

You hurry Theo out of your room as he finishes brushing his teeth, and he complies, adjusting his tie as you both sprint toward the Great Hall. Just before entering the bustling breakfast scene, you grab Theo by the arm, pausing to smooth down his disheveled hair. 

“Is it a mess?” He asks, watching you closely as you stand on your toes to thread your fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it.

“Just a bit,” you smile, stepping back on your heels and giving his hair a final nod of approval. “How’s mine?”

“Pretty,” Theo responds immediately, his gaze lingering. “I’ve never seen your hair like this before.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek to stifle your smile at his compliment. You had let your hair fall naturally, and his reaction makes you feel unexpectedly warm.

You mumble a shy “thank you” before leading the way into the Great Hall, Theo trailing close behind. His cheeks are still tinged pink from the way your fingers had grazed through his hair, and he’s quietly grateful you haven’t seemed to notice. However, his relief is short-lived when he catches Draco’s eye, who immediately notices the pink tint and raises an eyebrow in amused surprise.

As you make your way to the table, Draco leans back in his seat with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Well, well, if it isn’t the lovebirds gracing us with their presence.”

“Fuck off.” Theo grumbles under his breath as he lets you slide into your new seat before settling in beside you. Ever since your usual spot had been taken, you’d claimed the one next to Theo, and not just in the Great Hall. You found yourself gravitating toward him in class, the common room—anywhere you could. It had become a quiet, unspoken habit, one that neither of you seemed keen on breaking.

“I should’ve figured that’s where you disappeared to last night,” Enzo says with a knowing smirk. “You two have been spending an awful lot of time together lately, haven’t you?”

You really had. Theo had taken to meeting you outside your last class of the day, content to walk around the castle or lake just so you could avoid witnessing Mattheo and Veronica together. You had learned he was the perfect study partner—far more patient than Mattheo, who would get restless after twenty minutes and start pleading for a break. He seemed to remember every little detail you shared, from how you took your tea to the smallest quirks about yourself.

He’d been so attentive to you that you overheard some girls in the year below talking about how Theo Nott was no longer single.

Theo gives him a flat, unimpressed glare, clearly not in the mood for Enzo's comments, “Yet again, fuck off.”

“Well, have you two got anything to tell us?” Blaise presses, a smug grin tugging at his lips. Theo looks up from serving himself breakfast, shooting Blaise a sharp, warning glance. He could handle the teasing from the boys himself, but he didn't want you to be caught in the crossfire, especially if it made you uncomfortable.

“No.” Theo replies flatly, his gaze flicking to you. You return it with an amused, yet sympathetic smile. Unconsciously, a soft, faint smile tugs at his lips, a detail the boys are quick to notice.

“Are you sure? Because—” Blaise starts but is quickly interrupted.

“I think you two would be perfect together,” Veronica cuts in, her voice dripping with an overly sweet tone as she flashes a saccharine smile. “Don’t you think so, Matty?” she adds, glancing over at Mattheo with a raised eyebrow.

Your eyes meet Mattheo’s for a fleeting moment, and he holds your gaze. You barely registered them, so absorbed in the boys' teasing of you and Theo. For just a moment, there's something unreadable in his gaze—something that makes your heart falter—but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his gaze shifting between you and Theo while Veronica cozies up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “You two would be.”

A knot tightens in your stomach, and your appetite evaporates. The lightness you’d felt just moments before vanishes, replaced by a heavy weight. Even though you knew Mattheo didn’t have feelings for you, hearing him so openly agree with the idea of you with Theo stings more than you expected.

As long as you’d known him, Mattheo had never been in a serious relationship, let alone had a girlfriend. Now that he was with Veronica, it was painfully clear that you were never truly an option for him. If you had been, he would have made a move. You had dropped hints for years, and his playful flirting had always kept your hopes alive.

But maybe that’s all your relationship was ever meant to be—a friendship with a hint of flirtation. If that’s the case, you needed to move on. Fixating on a guy who now had a girlfriend was a losing battle. If you weren’t careful, you might risk losing the friendship you valued so much.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts, pushing the food around on your plate, that you don’t even hear the chatter of your friends going on around you. It isn’t until Enzo tosses a grape at you that you glance up, “Are you coming tonight?”

You immediately know he’s referring to the Quidditch match. You’d missed the last game, which had surprised everyone, but given your recent mood, it hadn’t been unexpected.

You nod. “I planned on it.”

“Good,” Pansy interjects matter-of-factly. “I missed having you there.” You offer her a smile, but it falters when you see Veronica nudge Mattheo. He clears his throat and turns to you, his expression unreadable.

“Speaking of the game,” Mattheo starts, his voice slicing through the breakfast chatter. “I need my jersey back.”

Your brows knit together in confusion, and it takes you a moment to find your voice, “I don’t understand—”

“My jersey,” Mattheo repeats, his gaze steady as he watches you. “I need it for tonight.”

“Did something happen to yours?” You ask, caught off guard. You’d always kept one of his jerseys while he kept the other. It had become a sort of tradition between you.

Mattheo hesitates momentarily, a flicker of something like regret crossing his features. “No, it’s just... I need it back now.”

“Oh.” You say softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. Veronica’s eyes dart between the two of you, her brow knitting in irritation as she takes in the way Mattheo’s gaze lingers on you.

Theo’s eyes watch you with careful intensity. And when he catches the fleeting hurt in your expression, he reaches out and intertwines his fingers with yours beneath the table, his touch reminding you that he’s there if you need him. You squeeze his hand back immediately.

“I’m wearing it,” Veronica interjects, her tone harsh. “I’m his girlfriend. It would be a bit strange if you kept wearing it.”

Your friends exchange glances, their confusion palpable as they watch Mattheo allow Veronica to speak to you with such disdain. They’ve seen him start fights over someone supposedly speaking badly of you, so this new passivity is surprising. Enzo’s eyes widen in disbelief, and he mouths a quick ‘what the hell’ to Draco, whose puzzled expression mirrors his own.

When you remain silent, Veronica sighs impatiently, “Did you hear me—”

“Yeah, I get it,” you snap, your frustration evident. You turn your gaze back to Mattheo. “I’ll give it to you later.”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

You spent all your classes obsessing over returning Mattheo’s jersey, and no matter how hard you tried, it was getting under your skin. It wasn’t just any jersey—it was the one Mattheo had given you, the one you’d worn countless times. His new relationship with Veronica had stung, but this felt even worse. Maybe it was because taking back the jersey felt like a tangible sign that Mattheo was serious about Veronica, and it drove home the reality of how much things had changed.

Logically, you understood why it was reasonable. Having another girl wear your boyfriend’s jersey would be uncomfortable, and if the roles were reversed, you’d feel the same way. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier. You couldn’t stand Veronica, and the thought of giving up something that meant so much to you—both the jersey and Mattheo—was unbearable.

As you walked back to your dorm, you considered skipping the match entirely. However, you and Pansy had made plans to sit together, and you’d also promised Mattheo you’d return his jersey. As much as you wanted to avoid the situation, you knew you had to go.

You were so irritated as you snatched Mattheo’s jersey off the back of your chair that you hadn’t even noticed the red peonies and green jersey sitting on your bed at first. It wasn’t until you tossed your bag aside and went to fix your hair that the unexpected sight caught your eye.

Your eyes landed on the familiar green jersey, the back facing up so you could clearly see ‘Nott’ stitched in bold, unmistakable letters. A smile tugged at your lips, your earlier frustration fading as you reached for the flowers, their soft petals brushing against your fingers. Carefully, you lifted them, already picturing them in a vase on your desk. 

There’s a card tucked between the blooms, and you smile at Theo’s handwriting: Dolcezza—wear this for me tonight?

Suddenly, the idea of going to the match didn’t seem so dreadful anymore—if anything, it felt like something you could actually look forward to.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“Finally!” Veronica calls out the moment she spots you, her voice laced with impatience. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.” She stands outside the boys' locker room, arms crossed like she's been waiting for ages.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “I told Mattheo I would be here.”

“I know,” She says, her tone short, before sticking out her hand expectantly. “I can take that.”

You hesitate, wanting to wait and give it to Mattheo yourself, but you know she’ll be the one wearing the jersey tonight. It feels pointless to hold onto it any longer. With a reluctant sigh, you hand it over, and Veronica’s lips curl into a triumphant smile as she takes it from you.

“Thanks.” She chirps, instantly brighter now that she’s got what she wanted. You watch as she slips the jersey on, and a slight bitterness creeps into your chest at the sight of it on her. She finishes adjusting the jersey and looks up, sending you a smug smirk that makes your stomach twist.

In the last week or so, you've noticed her once-sweet attitude starting to crack. At first, she was nothing but kind, almost to the point where you questioned if it was genuine. But now, the subtle comments slipping through made it clear—she didn’t like you, and you couldn’t figure out why.

Sure, you were close with Mattheo, but if the jersey was any indication, she had no real reason to worry. 

You were nothing but a friend to Mattheo, even though you desperately wished that wasn’t the case.

She eyes the jersey you're wearing, quirking an eyebrow as if she's about to say something snide. You brace yourself, waiting for the comment, but then her face lights up as her attention shifts to something—or someone—behind you.

You turn just as she brushes past you, wrapping her arms around Mattheo’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss. The sight makes your stomach twist, and you quickly avert your gaze, unable to bear watching them. Her giggles fill the air, loud and lovesick, a blatant declaration that he’s hers now.

“Whose jersey are you wearing?” Your eyes snap over to Mattheo, who has one arm around Veronica’s waist as he looks at you curiously. Her arms are tightly wrapped around his neck, and she looks frustrated that his attention is on you. 

“Mine.” You glance over and see Theo approaching, a flicker of relief washing over you. A genuine smile spreads across your face, and before you think it through, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. He looks momentarily surprised but quickly gathers himself, encircling your waist and holding you firmly.

You lean back slightly to meet his gaze, your voice softening. “Thank you for the flowers. Again.”

A warm, gentle smile blooms on his lips, the kind he reserves just for you. “Anytime, dolcezza.”

A moment lingers between you, where your eyes lock and soft smiles play on your lips. But the spell shatters at Veronica's excited squeal of Mattheo's name. You clear your throat, gently pulling away and offering Theo a fleeting smile, even though you sense his disappointment at the loss of your warmth.

Your gaze drifts toward Mattheo, who leans in to press a kiss against Veronica's lips, a pang of longing twisting in your chest. You exhale slowly, then look back at Theo. “Are you nervous?”

“Not really,” he replies with a casual shrug, though you catch a flicker of something beneath his calm exterior. “But if I do get nervous, I’ll just search for the pretty girl wearing my name.”

Your lips part in surprise at Theo’s bold flirting, a playful spark igniting in your chest. You try to mask your smile, but it’s no use—Theo sees right through you, a knowing grin spreading across his face as he revels in your reaction.

“Good luck. I’ll wait for you after.” You lean in, nearly whispering as you press a kiss against Theo's cheek, but in your nervousness, your lips brush against the corner of his mouth instead. The contact sends a spark of warmth through you, but before he can react, you pull away, leaving him to watch you walk off, the letters of his last name boldly displayed on your back.

He stands there for a second, staring after you, but as he turns to leave, he catches sight of Mattheo, who is watching you with an intensity that makes his heart sink.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

You’re exhausted. Keeping track of both Mattheo and Theo is proving to be more tiring than you anticipated. You're used to focusing solely on Mattheo during the game, but tonight, your attention keeps shifting to Theo.

“Are you even listening to her?” Pansy scoffs, jabbing you in the ribs.

The unexpected nudge jolts you from your thoughts, and you turn to her, puzzled. “What?”

“Veronica. Are you paying attention?” Pansy glances over, raising an eyebrow.

You shake your head, “No. I didn’t even realize she was sitting nearby.”

“Listen to her. She’s been bragging about Mattheo.” That catches your attention. You follow Pansy’s finger as she points, and your gaze lands on Veronica a few rows ahead. As you focus, her voice cuts through the noise of the crowd, loud and unmistakable, carrying clearly despite the distance.

“Do you even know how long I waited to get him?” Veronica’s voice rises above the noise, smug and self-satisfied. You glance over just in time to see her gather her hair into a high ponytail, making sure the name on her back is fully visible. “Honestly, the effort was exhausting,” she adds with a dramatic sigh, as if she’s endured a great hardship.

The girls around her practically explode with excitement, bombarding her with questions—how did she do it? How long did it take? What’s he like? Their voices blend into a high-pitched buzz, and you roll your eyes, feeling the irritation build as you turn your attention back to the match, hoping to tune them out.

Pansy nudges you again, her voice low and insistent. “Keep listening.”

“No.” You grit out.

Pansy sighs, “Why not?”

You exhale sharply. “Because I really don’t want to hear her go on and on about him anymore.” The bitterness in your voice is hard to hide, but you don’t care. You’re too tired of hearing his name on her lips.

“You’ve barely listened!”

“It was enough for me.”

“There’s something off about the way she talks about him,” Pansy pushes, leaning in to try and catch your eye, but you continue looking forward and watching Theo. “I don’t like it.”

“I mean, I don’t either. But I’m not going to keep listening in.” “Why?” Pansy cries out incredulously, gaining the attention of some people around you.

“Because I’m supposed to be getting over him, and I don’t think listening in as his girlfriend talks about him will do that.”

“But what if somethings off? What if she’s blackmailing him or something?” Pansy asks, before she gasps and turns to face you fully. “What if he’s dating her to make you jealous?”

“Do you really think Mattheo Riddle would allow someone to blackmail him? And secondly, I don’t think that’s the case.”

“You never know. I always thought he had feelings for you.”

“Pansy. This is what I’m talking about,” You snap, sending a warning look to your best friend. “Mattheo can take care of himself, you and I both know that. There’s no way I’ll ever get over him if I start making up theories about why he’s with his girlfriend. Veronica’s a bitch, we know that, but that doesn’t mean she’s not with him for a genuine reason.”

Pansy exhales in frustration, adjusting in her seat as she finally turns her attention to the match. “Alright, I get it. I'll just share my theories with Blaise from now on.”

A smirk tugs at your lips as you imagine Blaise enduring the same conversation, likely rolling his eyes in exasperation, “Fine by me.”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. Thanks to Theo's swift catch of the Snitch, Slytherin secured the win, and the stands erupted in cheers. You'd screamed so loudly in celebration that you're certain he heard you, even from across the pitch. The thrill of the moment filled you with energy, and you felt a surge of pride as he glanced your way after the catch.

You were eager to congratulate him, but held back, letting the others swarm him first. Instead, you were leaned against the wall outside the locker room, waiting for a moment alone with him. As you stood there, it wasn’t long before your mind wandered. You found yourself watching him from afar—his chest still heaving from the intensity of the match, hair tousled and damp with sweat. There was something about the way he looked after a game that had your thoughts trailing off in a completely different direction.

Had Theo Nott always been this gorgeous?

When he turns and catches your eye, you fully expect him to give the usual 'wait a minute' gesture, like Mattheo always does. But instead, to your surprise, Theo pushes straight through the crowd. In an instant, he's in front of you, pulling you up into his arms. You let out a shriek of his name through laughter, completely caught off guard by the sudden hug, his embrace warm and tight as if he'd been waiting for this moment all along.

“You did so good!” You cry out as he sets you down. When he grins at you, it’s almost enough to make you swoon; the sight of post-match Theo is something you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. The blend of adrenaline and joy radiating from him leaves you momentarily breathless.

“It’s because you wore my jersey,” he shrugs, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I didn’t get to say it earlier, but you look really good in it.”

You nearly melt, “Does that mean I get to wear it at the next game?”

“Please do, dolcezza,” he says, his tone suddenly softer, the endearment dripping with warmth like honey. There’s a sincerity in his gaze that sends a flutter through your chest. “You make it look far better than I ever could.”

You don’t get the chance to respond as Enzo suddenly appears by his side, rambling on about something animatedly. With a quick tug, Enzo pulls Theo away, but not before he glances back, shouting over his shoulder about how he’ll see you tonight.

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write, and reblogs help to spread my work 🤍

[thecameronchronicles]

Heat of The Moment

TW: unhinged Rafe. Dominant sex. Dirty talk. Language. Oral sex. Hair pulling. Cum swallowing.

REQUESTED:

@gianadrichardson-blog

So the idea I have in my mind is that y/n and Rafe are dating and Rafe KNOWS that every guy wants y/n from tourons, college guys and even his best friends want her. So while y/n was out of town with her parents, Topper accidentally revealed that he had feelings for y/n and tried to date her while her and Rafe was in the talking stage. So Rafe calls y/n and sees where she at. When Rafe gets y/n location he shows up and let out his frustration he had and record them having sex with y/n then send to topper with the message “keep away from my girl”

Maybe y/n older brother have y/n phone and decided to play a prank on rafe acting like a guy had y/n phone

Heat of the Moment

"What the fuck, Top?!" Rafe accuses, holding Topper's phone high enough out of reach. But your pictures remain on the screen. More specifically, pictures the friend of your boyfriend shouldn't have.

"I- just stop it, man-"

"My girlfriend's tits are on your screen! What am I supposed to think?"

"She's in a bikini but it it doesn't matter okay? Just-just let me have it back." But Rafe smashes it before Topper can even brush his fingers against it. His finger is pointed in his former friend's face before he can right Rafe's actions that he believes wholeheartedly are justified.

"Rafe. When you and her were just talking, I...I thought I had a shot. I get that now, okay? I just, sometimes I wonder what if-"

"If I even see you looking at her after this, you won't be able to ever look again."

Rafe was already fuming. He was jealous and curious, both existing to a dangerous degree that meant his knuckles were bloodied more than healed and his voice hoarse from having defended you.

There wasn't a soul within a dramatic radius within the Outer Banks that didn't see your beauty. Whether it was the stunning way your eyes could focus and become instantly lustful with one look at your boyfriend or the way your voice warmed even the coldest of hearts, Rafe Cameron knew exactly what he had.

Perfection.

He just didn't expect to have to have to defend you to someone so close to him- someone who has apparently had feelings for you since before you were officially anything with Rafe. It makes his hands wrap tightly around the steering wheel and his foot practically punch a hole into the floor of his truck as he races across the Carolina road.

He never thought he left it to question. You were his. He was yours. It was as official as it could be without a ring or contract of marriage and yet he knew he needed to make it unquestionably true to the one person it mattered to.

So without a call or text in warning, he is pounding at your front door.

"Rafe? Are you okay baby, you-" He is over your threshold, face between your hands, your body pulled into his as he kisses you between words.

"You know I love you, yeah?" You nod with your hands coming up around his wrists. If you didn't trust him so gravely then you'd worry for the strength behind his hands as he brought you against him.

"You know I'd do anything for you?" He kisses with a grunt, more animal than the man you talked to earlier this morning.

"And that you say our word and it stops, no questions asked? That you know I put you first?" His forehead rests against yours as he waits for your agreement. It takes less than the time of a blink before he gets it.

"Good, remember that because I'm about to fuck you like I hate you." He lifts you around him and up your steps, suddenly too far away from your room.

You were the complete opposite of touch starved and yet you felt as if you had been drowning without his touch, the first moment of contact being an exhale for relief. Only in the juxtaposition that was being his girlfriend it also made you lightheaded.

"Rafe-" His hand comes up over your mouth as he only manages to get to the steps and turns you to cover them. Your knees dig into the uncomfortable wood and yet all you can focus on is the heat of the moment.

"Need to use that word, baby?"

You shake your head as he guides your hands around the open spaces between the bars making up your bannister.

"Then hold on." His belt sounds first and then the rough fabric of his pants being shoved.

"Jesus Christ, baby, I don't even need to spit on my cock, so I?" He leans over you, kicking your legs just wide enough to leave some comfort in the angle. "Always so wet for me isn't that right?"

"Always!" You moan into his hand as he grins against your shoulder before reaching into his pocket.

You hear the wrapper of the confom being torn and make the mistake to turn and see him do it with his teeth. Something about the savagery of it and the heat behind his eyes, still possessing your care above all else, and it sends you drenching the valley awaiting him.

"Safe and-" He moans, a deep honey tone, that makes your toes curl knowing you wrap around him snuggly enough to cause such a reaction.

"Tight, baby! Fuck!" He hits the stairs beside your cheek and yet it does nothing to limit anything. If anything, it spurs you both on as his other hand releases your mouth and you're able to kiss the skin of his fist as if to soften his rigidity.

"How are you so sweet AND sexy-hmm? Always know just what I need don't you baby?" Your body wills itself to endure all that is Rafe Cameron. Every tension soiling his happiness now pumping through every snap of his hips until all that remains is the frustration you know he veils from you. Still, you trust that every shove of him into you is only a method of showing you he cares.

However, it has never been quite this possessive before. Quite this needy. Quite this deep or hard.

And you fucking love it.

His hands can't move fast enough and yet they are graceful and not amateur. He rolls your nipples as he kisses your neck, thrusting without break, and whispering every dirty thought you have constructed in your time apart.

And then he becomes completely and utterly unhinged. Taking you in his lap, he pulls you facing away from him, still seated to the root. He bounces you, one hand around your neck, as the other rubs your clit. It can't be comfortable for him with the wood beneath you and still he is too driven by the cries you're making in the sound of his name to care about anything but this next thrust-or the dozens that follow.

"Nobody knows just how dirty you get for me, isn't that right baby? How deep you take my dick in this perfect little pussy? Yeah?" He slaps your clit with just enough pressure to make you jolt until he lifts his hips and makes you forget of the sting it leaves behind.

"How loud you get? It's a miracle nobody has called the cops yet. You sound like you're in pain, shit-" He turns you to him with the grip around your neck moving to your jaw and turning you to him.

"You good baby?"

"Harder-"

"That's my fucking girl?" You're lifted with a gasp following you as he takes you into your room. You are only allowed the reprieve of wood beneath your soles for a second before he's rutting you into the bed. Hand pushing your face into the sheets to somewhat muffle your screaming, all you hear is the repetitive "yeah"s in the mix of your name as he wallows in you.

"Do I have to worry about anyone else ever knowing about how good you feel?" You are torn away from your blissful daze at the question.

"What?" You turn and face him, seeing the phone pointed towards you. The heat from your skin accelerated until it is now the marrow in your bones and you can't cool it, not that you want to.

"Who fucks you deep enough to make you soak his cock like this?"

"Rafe!" You manage as he pulls your hair and makes your back arch for him.

"Who makes you dizzy and shit when he knows just where to hit?"

He pulls you to him, against his chest until you can look up at him.

"Who loves you enough to prove to everyone on this goddamn island you're his?! Huh?"

"RAFE! GOD! YOU, RAFE?" You sob, the pleasure almost painful as he grips your hip with one hand and keeps the phone recording in the other. The video is shaky and then disposed of as his cum begins to shoot from his heavy balls and up his shaft.

"On your knees, baby-" He takes the phone back, pointing it to your face. As always, he kisses you sweetly and runs a thumb over your lips, before you take him behind your smirk.

"Ohhh baby-" You accept him slowly before opening your throat to him. Eyes locked and cheeks prepped to be hollow, you wait as he cocks his head before powering through. He thrusts.

Twice.

Once.

And then becomes a blur.

Only grunts and 'fucks' leave between moans.

"Shit baby, you're gonna make me come- you want it?" He asks, managing to open his eyes long enough to see you nod. Digging your nails into his thighs, you drive him to pulse into your throat, over your tongue, and along with your swallow.

"Open-" he points the camera to show just the good girl you are.

"I fucking love you, baby, and now nobody will question who you belong to again."

"I don't think they do, Rafe..." You laugh it off as he helps you to your feet and into his arms within your bed.

As you fall asleep, you hear him tapping away on his phone before finally focusing completely on you. You rest well within his arms, satisfied in the countless orgasms you had as he reached his own, sweet dreams awaiting you that pale in comparison to what it means to be loved by Rafe.

Across town, Topper's phone buzzes. A video file from Rafe. The new phone, bought not even ten minutes after his last one was smashed sits in wait for the message.

MP4 file.

It is opened. The sound of slurping around the impressive shaft, angry and near completion is spliced with the sight of you spread for him on the stairs as well as the hip of the bed. Your cries are only of pleasure and they echo as the video plays.

"Stay away from my girl." Comes a warning meant for Topper.

Only it isn't Topper's eyes that come to the scene.

And it isn't Topper's life that gets the threat.

It is your brother's and he has just been waiting for an excuse to let out his own rage out against Rafe.

MASTERLIST

[megamindsecretlair]

heyyyy sugarplummm, you already know why i’m here🤭🤭🤭. i’d love to a request for teddy richmond??? im thinking smutty smutty down to the ground, but i NEEDDDD overstimulation from oc to teddy and him tapping out??? some crazy crazy shit LMAOOOO please and thank you, i would forever be in your debt🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

A/N: Hope I did it justice! I read a FILTHY fic from @planetblaque, make sure you check her fic out here! Good & Plenty

Ruined

Pairing: Daddy Dom!Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), fingering (fem receiving), teasing, size kink, dirty talk, face sitting, mean Terry, daddy kink, praise kink, overstimulation, reader is able to be picked up, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some, rushing.

Summary: See Ask. Story by @uniqueoutlierblog . Terry has been spending more time in the gym lately, preferring to retreat into his head like he often does. Tonight, however, you aim to take his mind off of his worries if only for a little while.

Word Count: 3,232k

AO3 Link

A/N: Ya'll don't ask about this man no more! I need to focus on this book, lordt LOL. He has rotted my brain, enjoy! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Your favorite part of your nightly routine was watching Terry workout. He was never more so in his element then when he was pumping iron, blasting his metal music, and in the zone. He became so focused, lifting weights, leg day, arm day, biceps, triceps, and whatever else he managed to hone into a deadly weapon.

You joined him most nights, but quickly became entranced in the way he lifted his body doing pull ups. Or working his legs out on the machine. Your home gym was nothing to sniff at. Making him deck it out in all of the equipment he ever wanted when he got his settlement from Shelby Springs. 

You liked using the bike mostly, setting a program, and pretending to ride up the side of a mountain. You were able to zone out, picturing the mountain air and the subtle breeze. It was a wonderful sight to behold but did little in comparison to Terry’s massive form. 

Terry had been a little distant lately, spending more and more time in the gym instead of resting. You entered the gym now to find him facing the wall of mirrors along the far wall, watching himself as he lifted heavy weights in his arms, doing curls. 

Something was bothering him. You bit your lip as you watched him. What could it be? 

He was focused, not even noticing that you were standing in the doorway. He wore a dusky blue tank and black shorts, compression shorts underneath showing off massive thighs. His earphones were in his ear, probably listening to his favorite band. 

You thought over what could possibly be his problem… it occurred to you. It was the anniversary of all the shit that went down. Losing his cousin, violence, racism. You sighed, wondering why he didn’t say anything. Then again, he wasn’t the type of man to burden others with his thoughts. 

You sauntered into the gym, taking off your pajama shirt as you did so. You wore no bra underneath so you were bare to the heated room. Your eyes were trained on Terry beside you, soaking through his tank top with sweat. The tattoos on his forearm moved with him, the star and moon on his arm curling.

You stopped beside him, taking off your sleep shorts and panties in one fell swoop. You grabbed your own set of weights and went through a series of light reps, stretching out your limbs and loosening up your body. 

Terry looked over at you and then faced forward. He did a double take, nearly dropping the weights in his hands. He caught them at the last minute, placing them down on the dumbbell rack. 

“What you doing?” He asked, a smirk curving his face. He took out one of his earbuds.

“Working out, what does it look like?” You asked. You didn’t look directly at him, opting to look at him in the mirror. That was easier. Easier to admire his face without having to look at his eyes dead on. Sometimes it seemed like he looked right down to your soul. 

He licked his lips, siding up to you. He was huffing with exertion, reaching up to grab your shoulder. You sidestepped him, tsking at him. “You didn’t finish your workout,” you said.

“You gon’ do me like that?” His voice. Good god. He pitched it even lower, sounding put out and superior at the same time. 

“Finish your workout. Go on,” you said. You switched up your stretches, adding in lunges and stretching your thighs. 

Terry admired what you were doing, the jiggle in your ass, and the sway of your breasts as you moved. He looked at you in the mirror and you smiled at him. He nodded and then yanked off his tank top. 

You faltered in your own routine. His body was insanely ripped. Like a lifelike painting. Like an artist painted each and every ab. You admired the way his body moved. Effortless. Easy. His eyes were trained on you as he took off his shorts and compression shorts, letting his dick spring free.

He was already semi-hard, long and thick, as the tip slapped against his inner thigh. He pulled his other earbud out, tapping away on his phone to put on a playlist you both enjoyed to pump through the house’s speakers. “Coming Undone” by Korn began to blast through the speakers and the dirty beat had you feeling excited. The vibrations in the floor tingled your bare feet. He moved back to retrieve his weights, standing beside you as you both got into your workout routines. 

No words were spoken as you looked at each other, eyes dragging along each other’s bodies like a physical caress. His wide chest glistened with sweat as he pumped his arms, curling those biceps that you just wanted to sink your teeth into.

Your plan was to take his mind off of things, coax him into relaxing, and then talk about what was in his head. But you were making your own self bothered, staring at his lean hips, thick thighs, and strong legs. 

Your pussy throbbed, as you stared at his dick moving with his effort. Wet slick starting to pool between your legs. 

You grunted as you lifted shaking arms to put away your weights. You weren’t as skilled as him and that was okay. You would work yourself up to his level. Sculpting your own body the way you wanted. 

You free-stretched, lifting your arms above your head and pushing out your chest. The room seemed to get hotter. You felt every inch of Terry’s gaze on your body. Everywhere his eyes roamed, your body tingled. You were connected to him on a deep, spiritual level. 

Terry put away his own weights, the metal clanging above the music playing. The song continued to blast, making your body sway to the chorus. Terry stalked forward, licking his lips, eyes looking his fill as he approached you.

“Time for pushups,” you said. 

Terry smirked, encroaching into your personal space. He leaned down to kiss you and you turned your head at the last minute, making him kiss your cheek. He chuckled. “You think you’re cute,” he said against your skin.

You shrugged, a big smile on your face. “Just a little,” you said. You pinched your fingers to show him how much. He laughed, sinking down to his knees. He got into position, facing the mirrors. You climbed onto his back. He tested a few push ups before flicking his eyes towards yours in the mirror.

Wordlessly, he began. He lifted you with ease, not a grunt on him as he kept going, kept pumping his arms. Sweat dripped from his face. You felt his muscles bunch between your legs. You giggled, excited from the high of being lifted on his powerful back. 

“Good Daddy,” you purred on top of him.

Terry stopped, staring at you. You smirked and leaned forward, redistributing your weight so you didn’t hurt him. You licked the shell of his ear and he shivered from head to foot. “Such a good Daddy to me,” you moaned in his ear. 

Terry shook his head, starting up the push ups again. You rubbed his back, caressing him, scratching your nails against his skin. He groaned, body shuddering again. You continued to tease him, running your nails anywhere you could touch. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. 

“I can’t wait until you’re all done, sweaty, feeding me that long dick of yours,” you purred in his ear. 

Terry stopped again, arms extended. He smirked at you. God, he was fucking beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. He literally took your breath away whenever you saw him. A sigh carried off in the wind. 

Music thumped as you looked at each other. Your thoughts were probably broadcast all over your face. You took a quick peek at yourself. You were perched on top of him like a lazy, feline goddess. Brown skin gleaming, eyes low, bottom lip between your teeth. You looked so pretty like this. Felt pretty. Felt amazing because he made you feel like you were flying every time you were with him. 

You moaned, thinking of him. Of how wonderful he truly was to you. An entire gift. You rubbed yourself on his back, finding that little bit of friction to keep you going. “Oh shit,” you moaned, head falling forward onto his shoulder. You moaned, getting yourself there.

“Hol’ up.” Terry’s rough voice cut through your fog. He lowered himself to the ground and he rolled to the side to let you off. You climbed off of him and then faced him on the floor. 

“You think you get to play with what’s mine?” He asked. He got to his feet, pulling you up with him. 

Your thighs tingled as he stepped into your personal space. He grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the weight bench. He straddled it, laying down. You hopped onto him, and he groaned. He must feel the slick between your thighs rubbing against his stomach. His muscles flexed beneath you and you closed your eyes, pussy fluttering. 

“Mine,” he growled, winking at you. He pulled you to slide over onto his face, lips sliding through your folds.

“Oh, god,” you sighed and moaned. 

Terry hummed, licking his lips. You felt the entire motion, pussy growing wetter from the action. He began to lick you in earnest, moaning between your legs. You gripped onto the weight bar above the bench, held on for dear life, as your legs shook. 

The song switched to “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails. Terry followed the erratic beat, flicking his tongue across your clit rapidly, making you shake and twitch on top of him. “Oh, fuck, Terry, shit, oh fuck,” you moaned. 

Terry chuckled, gripping onto your ass and spreading your ass cheeks. Terry wrapped his lips around your clit and suckled. You screamed, your toes pushing you off of him from the ground. Terry held on, using his tongue to tease around your entrance. 

Stars were blinking on and off in your mind’s eye, lower belly burning with desire. “Terry,” you begged, voice weak and pathetic. Oh fuck, you were about to cum. You began to sink onto his face, putting all your weight down when Terry moved his lips. He pulled away from your entrance right before you were about to cum. 

You groaned, leaning back to look at his eyes. There was something deeply erotic about those mesmerizing eyes staring up at you from between your thick thighs. He winked at you and then pushed you off of him. 

He sat up so that you straddled his lap. “Ready to stop playing games?” He asked, wiping your essence off.

“Who’s playing?” You asked. You blinked at him innocently, wrapping your arms around his neck. His dick was nestled in your ass, growing harder as you rubbed yourself against him. He hissed, hands flying to your waist to steady you. 

You kept moving, kept rocking and rolling your hips so that your wet pussy rubbed against him. “Baby, the games have just begun,” you leaned down and whispered in his ear.

He pulled back, his eyes crinkling as a smile split his face. It was a predatory grin, full of evil intent as he kissed you. You sighed, nibbling on his big, juicy lips. He suckled your bottom lip into his mouth, and you moaned, canting your hips forward once again. 

“Another Way” by Sleep Theory came on, turning up the heat. The heavy beginning reverberated under your skin as you scratched at his nape. You moaned into each other’s mouths. Terry’s hands on your waist were no longer hindering you from rubbing on him, grinding on him. 

Terry cursed, his hand slipping between your legs. “Good fuckin’ girl. Getting wet for Daddy,” he said in awe. 

“You make me so fuckin’ horny, I can’t stand it,” you confessed, capturing his lips with yours again. It was all true. The way his body felt beneath your questing fingers. Tracing every vein, every muscle, every inch of skin. It all served to turn you on more, drive your desire higher, reaching new heights. 

“Let me train that throat,” he said, more of a command than a question. You smirked as you slid off of him, already planning your method of attack. 

Terry scooted forward on the weight bench, and you gripped his thighs for stability as you lowered to the floor. You smiled, grabbed his dick, and rubbed the bead of pre-cum across your lips. 

Terry moaned, licked his lips, tilting his head at you. Your pussy throbbed at the way it made his eyes narrow, made him look cocky. You aimed to change that. You opened your mouth, sucking him down and he groaned as you took him down to the base. 

It was hard, no lie, considering his size. But fuck, you were greedy. You breathed through your nose and then slowly dragged him out of your mouth, making sure to lick every inch of him. 

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned, throwing his head back. He grabbed the sides of your face, stroking his thumb across your cheek, before moving your head faster, making you take more of him. 

Silly boy. You resisted, pushing against his hold. He grunted before he let up and that’s when you took over. Giving him the sloppiest, messiest, nastiest head you’d ever given him. “Shit, let me get out yo way,” he breathed, his moans competing with the sounds of the song playing in the background. 

You stroked him as you sucked him off, his tip leaking cum. The salty taste of him made you moan, made your thighs tingle. You moved your fingers between your folds, rubbing your own clit as you sucked him off. 

Curses flew from his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. Fuck, he was perfect. Absolutely perfect. His mouth dropped open, jaw going slack. He groaned, eyes crinkling with the effort. You took him deep, near gagging, bobbing up and down on his length like you were trying to suck the soul out of his body.

“Shit, slow down,” he said, voice growing needy. 

You didn’t listen. You kept going, kept going faster, shaking with the effort. Rocking back and forth on your fingers and bringing your own pleasure back to the front. Back from where he teased. 

“Damn girl,” he moaned. His jaw flexed with restrained effort. You moaned around his dick, humming, flicking your tongue across his sensitive tip. You suckled him there, drooling. Your saliva and his pre-cum dribbled down your chin. You locked eyes with him, spat on his dick, and then sucked him back down. Returning to the pace you set, sucking with extra pressure.

“Fuck, fuck,” he panted, his hips pushing up. He tapped your cheek softly and you reluctantly pulled off of him. His huffing breaths were better than the music. His eyes turned deep blue like a lagoon, drunk with pleasure. 

His eyes narrowed, staring at you like you stole something. You licked your lips, licking up any extra taste of him. He watched you do it, before he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to him.

He kissed you, lips soft and sweet. You opened your mouth to him, to his exploring tongue, to the bite of his teeth. You moaned, hands trapped by your side. 

He stood up abruptly, pulling you over to the mirrors. He wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing your back against the cold, smooth glass.

You yelped, trying to get away from it. Your skin was too heated for it, too sensitive. “Terry, please,” you moaned.

“My turn, baby girl,” he said. He grinned, sliding into you with no preamble. Your mouth dropped open with a scream as he split you open. 

“T-T-,”

“Shh, shh, Daddy’s got you,” he cooed as he moved in you like he was punishing you. He was relentless, moving like a jackhammer. Like a well-oiled machine. He held your legs spread open, taking his dick.

“T-too, mu-uch,” you cried, pussy flooding his dick. He was pounding into you so good, your vision turned black. Your ears began to ring. Your back tapped the mirror, shaking it, with the force of his deep thrusts. 

“Too much?” He asked.

You held onto his shoulder, nails digging. “Too good, too good,” you moaned. 

He moaned with you, synching up your sounds and bringing a new level of intimacy to the moment. He stared in your eyes, nose to nose, heavy breaths fanning across each other’s faces. The wet, dripping mess you made was leaking down your ass and leg, growing wetter. 

“How ‘bout now?” He asked. He increased his thrusts, angling you so that he was fucking up into you. The tip of his dick rubbed against a deep spot inside of you, rubbing up into you and making you see stars again. His dick was huge, splitting you, and god it felt so fucking amazing. 

“Meanie,” you whimpered, grip growing weak. 

Terry kissed along your jaw, your cheeks. “So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ good for me. Such a good girl, creamin’ on this dick. You always know just what Daddy needs, huh?” He asked. 

“Daddy, please! Please let me cum, please, please,” You begged. 

His dick throbbed and you crumpled, falling into that abyss of pleasure. Where it filled up your entire being. All of the teasing and edging just sent you overboard, losing yourself and finding yourself in an endless loop of give and take. You twitched and jerked, moaning loud in his ear. 

“Fuck. Grip that shit. Show Daddy you love it,” he said. “Show me. Show me.” His thrusts grew frenzied, hips out of alignment, as he lifted one of your legs higher on his hip and then groaned as he climaxed.

His hot, pulsing seed filled you to the brim. “Ahh, that’s my good girl. Take all of me,” he cooed. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. 

You lazily found each other’s lips. He stilled against you, deeply lodged inside like he lived there. Like he didn’t want to leave. Hell, you didn’t want him to leave either. If you could live like this, you would. Never going a moment without him buried in your pussy where he belonged. Where he was always meant to be. 

Terry kissed your temple and slowly, so slowly, pulled out of you. He looked down as he watched himself exit, a thick load of cum spilling out behind him. Your pussy contracted, trying to push him all out. You shivered as the cum slipped down, leaking onto the ground. 

“Ruined,” he said, smug smile to accompany his words. You looked up at him and kissed him, needing his lips on yours just one more time. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whispered against his lips. He smiled against yours, leaning back just far enough to look you in the eye.

“I think I have a few ideas for the sauna,” he said.

“The sauna?” You asked. He fucked you so well, you didn’t think you could walk straight at the moment. However, there were plenty of areas to sit in the sauna. Light bulbs flashed in your mind, thinking of what dirty schemes he was up to.

Terry grinned, turning away from the mirrors and heading towards the sauna. You giggled and talked to him the entire way there.

The end.

There will be more, but seriously ya'll. Stawp distracting me! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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[matrixbearer2024]

Imagine being Ford's lovely wife and mother to triplets, they take after him in so many ways and you couldn't be happier.

Poindexter named the trio, you were too out of it to really have done much and he didn't want to disturb you. Personally you couldn't help but think your husband went too brainiac on even this— but the kids had relatively normal names so you were okay with it.

Aeschylus Maximillian (Lastname)–Pines

Alexander Euler (Lastname)–Pines

Athena Faraday (Lastname)–Pines

Dude really had to name them after scientists or rulers huh-

Especially the eldest of the trio, he takes after the researcher in so many ways it's almost like your husband suddenly spawned a mini-me.

For the first couple months, Sixer constantly had one of his toddlers either in an arm or in direct vicinity when he could. He couldn't stop himself from wanting to be around them in some capacity, always wondering and always worrying if they were okay.

It took a couple months for the both of you to figure out a system that divided his time aptly and everything was well.

Given that Stanford was always so busy with his research and work, the triplets could only really spend their nights with him. Even if he was busy, the pictures and memories formed on those nights with your workaholic lover was more than enough for the time being.

Imagine Stanford's expression when the triplets each say: "Dada" as their first word. This man would break down in sobs, he could take that day off and spoil them.

He's also totally not crying over the fact that his little tykes are also somewhat growing up in just the teensiest manner.

Everything seemed to be going so well, so smoothly, when all out of the blue your husband seemed to grow distracted. The distance wasn't apparent at first, only getting worse and worse when he eventually never had time to spend with the triplets because of a project.

"Ma...? Where's Dada?"

The crippling feeling of being unable to explain such a loaded question, instead just tossing back a sad: "He's busy working." And noticing the similarly dejected response from your kid.

Imagine how different it eventually is when only you end up waking on the bed meant for two. Rarely would you find Ford even in your shared room anymore, having made himself home down in his lab.

You didn't know when or what caused him to work like tomorrow didn't exist, Ford never had this insane of a drive to research before. It concerned you all the more that he didn't seem to tell you anything.

It was like both of you weren't even married when he brushed past you with another cup of coffee in his hands before disappearing into the lab again.

Eventually it all imploded, you couldn't take it anymore. You confronted Ford down in his lab and you both had what was likely the worst fight you both ever had in your years, that was when he finally came clean about his project.

Not to mention about his 'muse' to add to it.

You couldn't understand why he even vaguely thought being in cahoots with what for all you knew was some kind of demon was a good idea.

You had an extremely bad feeling about all this.

[shytastemakerthing]

Ooooo I think I’ve noticed this being being a thing across some other fics & HCs and stuff, but would you be willing to do headcanons for Vil with a yuu (where he somehow found out about their feelings) who wouldn’t confess to him about their feelings & tried to get over him because they were worried he’d brush them off as typical paparazzi/fan behavior because he’s so used to it?

Hello and thank you so much for your request! I am sorry that this took so long to get out, school and work have been rather crazy right now XD, I hope you enjoy!

Tw: None

A/N: Reader is stated to be Yuu

It was safe to say that you were not the first person to ever have a crush on the Vil Schoenheit, but you were certainly one who was in his presence more than some of the others

It was only a matter of time before such feelings would develop, especially with how often you two crossed paths, and how often you found yourself in his dorm

But there was absolutely no way that you could tell him such a fact

After all.... who were you compared to him?

He was a world famous celebrity, top-class model, a highly skilled actor

You were just.....nobody

A magic-less nobody from another world who didn't even belong to this world, especially the one that he lived in

If you told him, the chances were high that he would simply see this as some joke, or the typical fan behavior that he is quite used too, and there was no way that you would ruin the friendship that the both of you had just because of how you felt

Perhaps that is why you started to put a distance between the both of you

Last minute cancellations of study plans, doing your skincare at Ramshackle, stops at his club becoming less and less frequent, the works. Anything that would work a gradual decline in your time around him

In hopes that these feelings would soon diminish, no matter how it hurt

Oh, but a follow you were to not think that Vil would certainly take notice

At first, he didn't think much of it. He knew that Crowley, the worthless and lazy headmaster that he was, kept you rather busy. Not to mention that gremlin cat of yours followed by your first-year friends

But then more suspicions arose... as if you were actually actively avoiding him

Now he really didn't know how to feel about that

It wasn't until several key points were stated by Rook (stalker), when Vil began to piece it all together

Especially noticing how empty his heart had been feeling, how lonely, he felt when you weren't at his side

Why wouldn't you have just come to him about such feelings? How could he turn you down? Did you think so little of yourself? Perhaps you did, and he would certainly need to correct that

Which is probably what led him to the steps of Ramshackle, actually compiling each and every ounce of strength that he had to actually dome to the rundown dorm to see you, standing straight and knocking on the door.... honestly hoping that he didn't sound as desperate as he felt

"You should never hide your feelings from me, Leibling. Especially if you do not know if they are reciprocated or not. Hm? Well, it would seem that this is my confession to you. Will you accept?"

Have a wonderful day/night!

[baelarys]

Hi, first of all I would like to say that you are such an amazing writer. I love all your stories but I especially love Aemond’s little family you have built. Since you mentioned in pt.4 that you won’t stop until you die or we get tired (which we won’t 🤣) I was wondering if maybe pt.5 can be Aemond and reader having a day to themselves without the children and maybe reader reassuring Aemond she’s his and he doesn’t have to worry about anything. 🫶🏼 Thank you for your hard work!

𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶

Aemond targaryen x reader

Word count: 2435

Warninig: smutt,bad words.

You shifted in the bed, reaching for Aemond's usual spot, seeking the warmth of his body next to yours. However, upon finding the empty space, you realized he was gone. You slid closer to his side, noticing that it still held some warmth, indicating he had not been gone for long.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, filling the room with a soft, warm light. As the brightness filled the space, you wrapped yourself more tightly in the sheets, covering your naked body to shield yourself from the light and the cold that seemed to come with the morning.

You had woken up with the hope of resuming what you had started the night before. It felt strange how much you had come to enjoy those moments of closeness with him—something unthinkable when your marriage had been arranged. But now, more often than not, you found yourself longing for those encounters. However, it seemed Aemond had other plans for that morning.

Determined not to let those thoughts distract you from your duties, you got up to begin the day. However, you couldn't ignore the latent heat in your body, built up since the moment you woke. You dressed carefully and headed to have breakfast with the children, whose energy and laughter managed to momentarily distract you from the desires that flooded your mind. After the meal, you withdrew to perform your daily prayers to the gods.

Later, you joined some ladies of the court, fulfilling the expectations of your role as a wife and mother, participating in conversations that ranged from the latest news of the realm to trivial rumors.

Finally, you decided to head to the training yard, knowing you would find him there. It was customary for him to spend the early hours of the morning practicing with the sword, and the thought of seeing him skillfully maneuver the weapon filled you with an almost inexplicable anticipation. There was something in the way he moved, in the strength of his hands as he wielded the heavy sword, that always stirred an intense, almost primal emotion within you.

Aemond muttered softly every time he missed a strike, and you found yourself smiling without realizing it. That frustration he displayed, far from being a weakness, fascinated you. Each time he failed, he returned with more determination, his muscles tensing as he prepared for the next move. There was a ferocity in him, an intensity that radiated from every pore of his skin, and that was what attracted you the most.

The strands of his silver hair stuck to his forehead. You bit your lip almost unconsciously as your thoughts wandered. It was impossible to deny the magnetism he held over you, especially in moments like this, when you saw him so focused, so completely in control of himself.

You decided not to interrupt him. You preferred to enjoy the view, the display of skill and power that always seemed to captivate you completely. There was something in the way Aemond handled his sword, how his body responded to the challenge of each strike, that evoked in you a mix of admiration and desire. You knew he did it with the same precision and determination with which he had handled you the night before.

Without waiting any longer, Aemond began to ascend the steps that separated you, moving with the same grace and determination with which he had wielded the sword moments before. When he was close enough, you didn't give him time to say anything. Following an impulse that had consumed you since you saw him training, you took his face in your hands and, without hesitation, pressed your lips against his in a soft but needy kiss. You knew this wasn’t typical for either of you in public, but you couldn’t hold back.

The salty taste of his skin from the sweat mixed with the warmth of his breath. You felt his large hands settle on your waist with a firmness that sent a shiver through you. But in an instant, Aemond began to pull away, creating distance with a softness that surprised you. Though his grip was firm, it was not harsh; it was a silent warning. You knew well that he disliked showing affection in public. His reserved nature and sense of discipline compelled him to maintain appearances, especially in such visible places.

Aemond watched you intently, his brow slightly furrowed as he awaited a response that didn’t come. He seemed to realize that something distracted you, something beyond the simple formalities he tried to uphold in public. "Are you well?" he asked, his voice in that low, controlled tone he rarely abandoned, even when worried.

You didn’t respond with words, unable to tear your gaze away from him. Your mind was completely absorbed, tracing every line of his face, the firmness of his jaw, the steel-blue of his eye that had always captivated you. You simply nodded slowly, your fingers already intertwined with his almost without realizing it.

Without wasting any more time, you took his hand and guided him with a silent determination. You moved quickly through the halls of the Red Keep, leaving behind the bustle of the training yard and the curious glances of the few who might have noticed your brief exchange. The echo of your footsteps resonated against the stone walls as you advanced, your thoughts focused solely on reaching that intimate space you shared, away from prying eyes.

Aemond offered no resistance when you pushed him against the wall, surprisingly docile, allowing you to take control in that moment. His eyes, which always reflected an air of authority, were now filled with something different: a mix of intrigue and desire. The sound of the door closing behind you barely broke the silence before you pressed your lips against his again, this time with an urgency you had never felt before.

The kiss was deep, filled with need. You gently bit his lower lip, silently asking him for more, and he quickly responded. Aemond opened his mouth for you, and your tongues met, exploring each other with intensity. There was a voracity in the kiss that you both shared, a contained passion that, in that moment, seemed to overflow without either of you wanting to stop it.

Aemond’s hands found their way back to your waist, but this time, they did not remain a simple touch. His fingers began to move, tracing the contours of your body slowly and deliberately, rising and falling over your hips and back, caressing your skin with a mix of tenderness and strength. You felt his hands enveloping you, each touch igniting the fire that burned within you even more.

Aemond’s lips parted from yours but did not move far. Instead, they began to trace a slow and deliberate path from your chin to the hollow of your neck, leaving behind soft bites and wet kisses that made your skin burn under his touch. You could feel how each small mark he left on your body intensified the desire between you.

Your hands, already restless, began to quickly unbutton his vest, letting it fall to the floor. The only thing left between them now was the thin fabric of his white shirt, light and stuck to his skin from the sweat of training. Aemond didn't give you time to do more. With a firm and determined movement, he lifted you off the ground with ease, as if you weighed nothing. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, and in that instant, you felt the almost unbearable rubbing of his sexes through the layers of clothing, causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

He gently dropped you onto the bed, held by his strong hands that slid over your body with a mix of control and adoration. Aemond pulled back just enough to allow you space, his eyes taking in every detail of you as his hands made their way to the knots holding the front of your dress together. With a patience that seemed to belie the intensity of the moment, he began to untie the ties, one by one, letting the fabric slowly fall around you, revealing more skin as he went.

You quickly freed yourself of the dress, letting it fall to the side of the bed without caring about the mess it caused. Aemond watched you with a devouring intensity in his eyes, admiring every curve, every detail of your naked body. You felt his breathing quicken, and before you could say anything, he had already leaned over you, running his hands and lips over your skin as if he were marking a territory that he knew perfectly well but that still fascinated him.

“You're beautiful,” he murmured, his hot breath hitting the skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine like an electric shock. His voice, low and heavy with desire, was the only answer you needed. Aemond's hands, firm but full of adoration, slid from your abdomen to your thighs, slowly separating them, giving you the feeling of vulnerability and absolute surrender.

His fingers found the heat between your legs, moving with expert precision. Two of them slid smoothly between your lips, soaking in your wetness with ease. Every touch further ignited the flame already burning in you, every touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your lips parted in a whisper, and his name escaped in a barely audible murmur: "Aemond..."

Your eyes closed, concentrating only on the sensations he gave you, as his fingers began to explore inside you, sinking deeper and deeper with each movement. The pace was slow, deliberate, almost torturous in its precision, and soon a soft gasp slipped from your lips, unable to contain your body's response to his touch.

"Mhmm...what's wrong, ābrazȳrys?" his voice caressed your ear with a tone of false innocence, as if he didn't know exactly the effect he was having on you. But his fingers, which continued to pump inside you with an increasing cadence, gave away the truth. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was loving every second of having you like this, vulnerable under his control.

The pace of his fingers was slow but deliberate, building the pleasure inside you steadily. Each movement seemed meticulously calculated to bring you over the edge, and the soft moans that escaped your lips were proof of his success. Aemond, ever aware of every small reaction, would bend his head to place kisses on your shoulder, his long, silky hair brushing against your skin, sending additional shivers throughout your body.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Aemond added a third finger, stretching you in a way that had you arching your back off the bed, seeking more than he was giving you. The feeling of fullness was almost overwhelming, but the pleasure that came with it made any discomfort quickly fade away. Your breathing quickened and his name escaped your lips again, this time as a desperate moan.

“Come on, ābrazȳrys,” he murmured with unexpected sweetness as his fingers continued to work inside you. “I know you can take it.” His tone, though soft, carried a charge of authority that only heightened the intensity of the moment. Aemond knew he had control over you, but he also knew how to guide you, how to raise the desire until you were completely surrendered to him.

Every movement of his fingers was precise, stretching and exploring every corner of your insides as the heat between your legs continued to build. The sensation was so intense that your mind began to cloud, consumed by the pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t think of anything else, only the fire growing inside you and the waves of ecstasy that were about to break.

Your hips began to move involuntarily, following the rhythm he imposed, seeking more, begging for release. The desire continued to increase, and with each passing second, you felt closer to the peak.

Your hips moved in unison with the rhythm Aemond imposed, each movement of yours a reflection of the need that consumed you. You felt the pleasure rising through your body, bringing you closer to a breaking point, and just as you were about to come, Aemond pulled back, stopping at the last instant. A soft gasp, almost in protest, escaped your lips, but all it did was elicit a smile from him.

Your hips began to move involuntarily, following the rhythm he imposed, seeking more, begging for release. The desire continued to increase, and with each passing second, you felt closer to the peak.

Just when you were about to cum, Aemond pulled out his fingers now soaked in your milky fluids, a small gasp escaped your lips in reproach but that only made Aemond smile softly.

"What a horny little bitch" that inappropriate nickname bothered you but you were too overwhelmed to think of anything other than him penetrating you with his cock.

You could hear him unbutton his pants and take his big, throbbing cock in his hands, wetting the tip with the moisture escaping from your entrance. The small touch was enough to make a small moan escape from both of your mouths before Aemond entered you completely.

His thrusts were fast and deep, touching that precise spot that always brought you to the edge of everything. In a moment, he turned you upside down, your chest slapping against the sheets and your ass in the air.

It wasn't long before you felt the knot in your belly loosen and a long moan escape your lips. Aemond followed shortly after, spilling his warm seed inside you.

You settled down on the bed, trying to catch your breath. Aemond let himself fall on top of you, burying his face in your neck as you caressed his back and hair. You could feel him melting at your touch.

[kurishiri]

william v.s. darius . . . william rex epilogue 🌹

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: very suggestive scenes that are awkwardly translated. also i translated this at 1am; you've been warned lmao

Kate: So we’re going shopping!

William: That we are. It’s become less crowded now, which would make it the ideal time for window shopping, right?

W: Let’s choose something together. One that would suit you.

Unlike the lively buzz of the street fair, where many people had gathered,

here, we didn’t have to worry about our surroundings, so we could walk at our own pace.

(Will knew that, so he invited me here.)

(…And the fact I could spend time together with him like that was a delightful reward as well.)

William: That outfit looks charming. It seems like it would fit your air.

Kate: Wah, this looks wonderful! It goes well with the skirt next to it too.

I was happy at how we walked side by side as well, in a good mood, and——

Kate: …Could we hold hands?

William: What a coincidence. I was just thinking the same.

When his beautiful fingers touched mine, our fingers intertwined together.

Kate: Hehe, thank you.

I squeezed his hand back, when…

Kate: Ah.

As if being led away, my eyes stopped on something,

with that something being a crimson red ribbon that went with a dress that left quite an impression.

When William followed my gaze, he narrowed those red eyes.

William: Indeed, I can easily imagine you in that.

W: Then, this dress is for you.

—— Time skip; William’s room ——

Kate: …How does it look?

I tried on the dress that I had gotten as a present as soon as we returned.

In response, Will, who was sitting on the sofa, narrowed his eyes, making their way from the top of my head to my toes.

William: Would you mind spinning around for me?

Kate: Like this?

When I did as I was told, the crimson ribbon fluttered.

William: It does suit you.

Kate: Thank you. Then I’ll be wearing this on our next date.

I looked down at myself, biting down on the feeling that sprung from within me,

when I realized the way he was looking at me.

His gaze on me seemed to hold a bewitching smile,

and I felt a familiar twinge that had been locked within me resurface.

Kate: …Will.

I found myself drawn to him, until I stood right across.

Kate: I want you to kiss me.

William: ——Then come here, my robin.

With that invitation, I sat atop his legs, and when our faces drew together, close enough where I could feel his breath…

His hands caressed my cheeks.

Those eyes, the color of blood, held a hint of amusement.

Kate: …Don’t keep me in suspense like that.

William: Hehe, my apologies.

W: I simply wanted to see more of you being honest with your desires.

Becoming more excited with how his fingers teased my lips, I took his finger into my mouth. [1]

William: ……… [surprised]

W: Pfft, haha. It makes me happy that you’d like to have a taste of my fingers as well.

W: But then you won’t be able to kiss me like that, right?

Kate: Ah…

Withdrawing his thumb, half-open lips met with one impatient for a kiss.

Kate: Mn…

His tongue slipped in, giving me a numbing sensation as they playfully intertwined together——

And when he let go, he gave a small smile.

William: …You are free to decide what it is your heart seeks and what you would like to do.

Kate: …I know.

William: And perhaps your heart may change. Our feelings can’t be restricted, nor should they ever be.

W: Of course, not by others, and not even by ourselves.

Kate: …So that is to say,

K: I am free to do as my heart wants. And even in this very moment [2], I love you, Will.

William: Yes, I figured as much.

Kate: Huh?

William: Your heart is close to mine, and we are not separated in the slightest.

W: That is how my heart feels——at any moment in time.

Kate: Will…

My lover before my eyes seemed to always, no matter in which moment in time, take pleasure in unraveling what was in my heart.

Feeling this, I…

Kate: If we stack even these smallest moments… they can become an eternity.

William: …Indeed.

Our lips met once more, being fondled affectionately in my mouth.

William: And I would like to have a taste of you, to my heart’s content.

W: If it is as you say, and these small moments can become an eternity… I would like to embody it.

Kate: …Will…

When I kissed him, he sought me deeper.

William: Should we take it to the bed? Or…

Kate: …Haa… I want more… like this…

William: …I imagine it would be quite frustrating to move, after all.

With the ribbon of the dress undone, my chest relaxed [3].

As if the wrapping of the present was removed, my skin was now exposed,

and my nipples gave way to my desire.

William: …Kate.

With his lips calling my name, his tone filled with emotion, pleasure rushed through me.

William: Could I engrave my feelings in you?

He sucked on my breasts, leaving a mark as red as his eyes.

The throbbing in my core excited me and trickled within me,

and I welcomed his palm as it slid in——

While indulging in the sweet excitement he gave me, I tasted the pleasure of this small moment in time.

Fin.

will vs darius jude vs nica alfons vs ring

← prev fin

NOTES:

[1] I wasn’t sure how to phrase this; part of it may be like midnight or 1am translating, but I also wasn’t completely sure how to translate this part of the line [その指先をはむりと含んだ] (sono yubisaki wo hamuri to fukunda) as well. So I’m mostly kind of guessing based on the context of the lines that come after.

[2] Kate uses the word [刹那] (setsuna) here, which means a moment or instant, though this particular word, unlike another similar meaning word, [瞬間] (shunkan), [刹那] is derived from the Sanskrit word kshana, which in Buddhism refers to the “shortest possible interval of time.”

[3] They say here [胸元が緩む] (munamoto ga yurumu), where [胸元] refers to like the chest or breast area (but can also mean the solar plexus), while [緩む] means like to loosen, slacken, relax, that kind of thing, both for tangible things like parts of the body and intangible things like rules. I’m not really sure exactly how to translate this, but it’s probably referring to how a woman’s breasts are bare, without the support of anything like a bra.

END NOTES: the difference between will and darius' end was interesting, like how they both treated the boy. they're probably trying to hit home the differences between them... which darius seemed to pick up on. i wouldn't say i'm very good at translating william, per se, but i did enjoy his story as well, and just the way he spent time with kate and darius! i feel they highlighted a lot of characteristics of his here that i feel many would like, appreciate, or be drawn to.

full masterlist 🌹🪽

[slutshamethesquirrels]

Superbloom - Part 3

tws: abuse, domestic violence, self harm and suicidal ideations

pairing: cc!satosugu x reader

part 2

Gojo stays up impossibly late. When he's home, you try your best to keep him company, but often end up nodding off on the couch, or the floor. One time you even fell asleep with your head down on the dining room table beside your late night bowl of cereal, spoon still in hand. You couldn't remember it, but Gojo found it greatly amusing.

You always woke up in your bed though.

Did he touch you when he carried you there? Or did he scoop you up with the infinite barrier between himself and the rest of the world? Did he brush your hair away from your face, rest his cheek against your forehead as he cradled you?

You couldn't imagine he did. Sensory input seemed to be a sort of hurdle for him.

He liked taste. Particularly sugar, but oftentimes he could also be lured away from responsibility by way of food trucks and pop up shops with menus that may as well be eligible to him. Different combinations of taste and texture seemed to fascinate him. There was something very human in those moments; the tilt of his head and the slow maneuvering of his jaw. It seemed it was only in those fleeting moments he could entirely lose himself in the sensation of something new.

Sight was a curse, quite literally. You’d learned the blindfold was more than just a comfort, more than just a mask. Occasionally he'd come home from missions and fall face first into the couch swearing he’s fine, but you knew better. There was a tension in his shoulders that only seemed to ease when all the lights were off and the only sound was your colliding breathing. You’d sit on the floor in front of him and worry, so loud you'd think he could probably hear it until his breathing slowed. You couldn't carry Gojo to bed if you tried, but you'd retrieve his blanket from his room and pull it up over his sleeping form only to watch it hover a few inches above his slumbering frame. You wondered if it was still warm.

And touch?

You wouldn't know. You aren't sure he would either.

He treated infinity like a party trick, throwing up invisible walls for you to walk into for a quick laugh, or blocking your chopsticks from reaching your lips– he especially loved it when you got irritated enough to throw something at him.

Little reminders of how untouchable he truly was.

It was lonely.

You hadn't gone so long without being touched in years. At first you missed the obvious: the kisses, the cuddles, the sex– but you knew you were truly broken when Gojo had come home fuming after a meeting with the higher ups and you got excited over the idea that he might lose it enough to hit you.

He didn't. He wouldn't.

Instead he stormed past you, his infinity bumping you roughly out of the way and made a b-line for his room, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle the walls.

The loneliness only grows.

Day fades to evening fades to night. You fill the time with instant ramen and doom scrolling through social media.

You know you shouldn't check, but you can't stop yourself from pulling up Suguru's instagram.

He loved pictures. You'd always had the feeling that he was a little vain, but he would swear it was all about the image.

He didn't post often, but when he did the comments we're always flooded with new age spirituality bullshit. Praising him and his “healing”, stroking his ego about his “divine masculine” energy. You had half a mind to tell these people that man had a better skincare routine than you did, but decide against it.

Something catches your eye.

His most recent post was liked by Manami.

You knew better than to open her profile, because seeing her name alone makes your stomach churn and your blood boil. It almost feels good-

“Y/n?”

Gojo's voice snaps you out of your trance and you drop your phone with a clatter against the table. If he's curious, he doesn't say so. It seems like there are other things on his mind.

“Pack your bags.”

The words cut through you like a hot knife, nausea welling up in your gut.

What was wrong with you that this kept happening? And even more importantly, where would you run to if not to Gojo? You’d lost all connections when you decided to follow Suguru in his defection, and not even a coffee shop would be impressed by “highschool dropout” written in the fine print of your resume.

Still, what was there to do?

“Okay.” It comes out muted, shakey.

“We’ll be there for an entire week, and it's gonna be cold, so choose your outfits accordingly.”

Oh.

Relief floods you. You take a breath you didn't know you'd been denying yourself.

Planes are nice, but nowhere near being better than rides on Suguru’s curses. Still, you lean against the window, watching the expansive sea trail out for miles below you, wondering how it’d feel to drop right there in the middle. One would assume it’d be peaceful, but you knew better. People said water burned when it entered your lungs.

Still, there must be something interesting down there. Perhaps a sunken ship, or plane– just like the one you were on now. Or maybe something less human, something darker.

You’d never find out under the watchful eye of Gojo, who by all means looked relaxed. His long legs were stretching obnoxiously into your space, his fingers interlocked behind his head, tipped back like he hadn’t a care in the world, and yet you knew that something was eating at him. Whatever this mission was, it had him pissed, though he wouldn’t divulge exactly what had him so riled. It came through in subtle bursts- flares of his nostrils, clenches of his fists, impatient legs jiggling and jostling your seat with every move.

“Gojo.” You scold, moving to rest your hand against his ever bouncing knee but being stopped just a few inches short.

A grin cracks across his face like lighting; violent and bright.

“Yes?”.

He jiggles his leg harder. If it were anyone else, you’d punch them, but this was Gojo. Not only did you have a particular sort of patience for his class clown behavior, but you also couldn’t– the fact that he paid your rent being just as big of a placater as the physical inability to do so.

So you choose a different route.

“Are you nervous or something? Awfully jittery over there.” Your tone lets him know it’s an accusation, not a question.

He freezes, and then sneers “Please. I don’t get nervous.”.

He stays still for the rest of the ride.

Gojo had warned you it would be cold, and you should’ve known he meant you’d be staying in a glorified desert of ice and snow. Another thing about him that hadn’t changed; overstating the inconsequential and understating the important. Not that you had access to clothing of that caliber anyway. You hadn’t left the temple unless tucked under Geto’s arm in all your years away, there was no need for anything other than the uber-casual. Sweatpants, jeans, leggings and t-shirts. You had traditional wear as well, but you’d left it in your room back at the temple. There was no way you were ever donning that again.

The early morning light is played like a game of tennis across the expansive white of the snow-laden rooftops and sidewalks and Gojo’s luminescent features. Both are too light to be accepting of any new particles of light, rejecting the sun's warmth with a beautiful type of determination.

“Fuck.”

The word spat through Gojo’s colgate teeth to some would detract from the beauty, but you’d been taught the debauchery and violence went well with beauty, so it only felt natural.

He shocks you by yanking the blindfold off of his face, scrunching his face up against the blinding light, his features almost wound as tight as his thick knuckles gripping the steering wheel of the rental car. The cold chill that seeps into you isn’t coming from outside, but from somewhere deep in your core.

His eyes had always been beautiful, would’ve been enough to jostle you with a fair warning all those years ago, but with the blindfold removed it was even easier to see just how much he’d grown since then. His features were developed, sharp and smooth all at the same time, with sparse boyish details painted into his aura. Fluttering lashes, long and stark white, soft cheeks and round eyes that– stunned you. You could almost see a faint glow emitting from his pupils, a myriad of memories and lessons and raw power emanating from his gaze. They were horrifying.

They were beautiful.

He flops his blindfold in your lap and motions to his bag in the backseat.

“My glasses are in the front pocket, be a peach and grab them for me?”.

When you turn around to fulfill his request you see exactly what he was perturbed by. A white cop car with ghost detailing on the sides.

“Awwwh, Gojo’s scared of pigs!” You coo as you fish around in the front zipper of his suitcase, smiling to yourself when he laughs. It sounds like caramel tastes; the kind of sweetness that would only come from burning something just right.

He was fun to tease, sometimes.

“Don’t feel like having to make pork chops because they pull me over for driving with my vision obscured.”

Gojo leaves you at the rental cabin with a strict set of rules. You’re not to leave under any circumstances. Stay indoors and away from windows, and when nightfall comes, all lights are to be turned off and left that way. If anyone approaches, you are to act like you’re not there.

You asked him why.

He said you were weak.

It didn’t take you long to discover there was no service this far out in the sticks. You busy yourself as best you can, wandering around the far too large estate and yanking open cabinets and doors like you might find something spectacular (or horrifying) awaiting you.

The best it had to offer was a mostly empty bottle of cleaner under the bathroom sink and a brown recluse in an empty closet. You tell him (her?) hello but she doesn’t respond, so you decide it best to leave him to his biddings. He was here first, after all.

It’s when the sun sets that you really start to lose it.

You’d never been afraid of the dark before, so why now did it feel like it was suffocating you?

The walls seemed to be closing in, tighter and tighter until you felt as if you were pushing on the edges of your own coffin, buried six feet beneath the damp earth. Maggots gnawed at your flesh, rainwater seeped in through the cracks and somewhere you hear Suguru yelling your name. He sounds displeased.

You fumble in the darkness until your hands find a wall and you trace it, blindly feeling for anything that might give you a sense of direction in the unfamiliar environment. The disorientation is blinding, the heat from your hammering pulse making the air burn with every intake.

Suguru would be disgusted, to see you flailing and fumbling in the dark all because you were simply left alone with your own thoughts for too long.

Weak.

You hand finds cool metal and you recognize the familiar sensation of a knob against your palm, turning and throwing the door open without a second thought.

It's no brighter, but the freezing night air shocks your nervous system, hitting you like a brick to the throat– like the hand of a lover.

You take a shuddering gasp, and then two, and then three, until you finally feel some sense of sanity again.

Your eyes adjust to the moonlight, and you can make out the white fields that seem to stretch on for as far as the eye can see. The snow quiets the sounds of nature, quiets the kick drum in your chest.

Your back slowly presses against the cool wall of the house behind you, exhaustion wracking your frame as you come down from your panic. It's real, you tell yourself, it's all real. The wind nipping at your skin, slicing through the thin fabric of your clothing. The shards of razor sharp snow and ice caught in said wind that feels like they’re stabbing through your body. It all hurts. It makes you homesick.

You can't say for sure when you end up on the freezing surface of the covered porch on your side, curled into yourself, but you stay there, relishing in the feeling of the cold burn, thinking that if you close your eyes the frost bite on your jawline kind of feels like Suguru's teeth. Sharp.

Sleep overtakes you, eventually.

You dream of nothing.

[izzabela]

So I don't know if you seen this meme or trend where the girlfriend/fiance/wife would text their significant other about how much they miss him and get very flirty over the text messages and when the boyfriend/fiance/husband finally gets home, the girlfriend/wife decided they are too tired or were just teasing around but the boyfriend/husband are already worked up and excited to not let it pass.... I was wondering if you could write separate scenarios like that for Kuai Liang and Tomas? (I felt like Bihan wouldn't really care that much of it anyway 😁).

Bark, No Bite - Lin Kuei Trio x fem!wife!reader (headcanons)

in which you bark up the wrong tree, no matter which brother is yours

a/n: thank you 🐼, but i think you might be mistaken about bi han 😏 - also some of this is inspired by real life events (my bf)

ship[s]: tomas vrbada , kuai liang , bi han x fem!wife!reader (headcanons)

warning(s): modern au, fuck it, MDNI (various sexual positions, poor reader is used happily, puppy play??? light bdsm fasho)

Tomas Vrbada

- something something something, Tomas comes home quickly after you sent him a risqué picture of yourself in tight clothes and a suggestive pose

- something something something, Tomas finds you there, sitting in front of the TV, unaware of the beast that's lying in wait (and in his pants)

- he picks you up, and you're a giggle fit at first. when he makes way to the bedroom, you realize your joke from earlier has consequences

- of course: missionary on the bed, your back against the headboard, good ol' doggy- lil' ol' you is blissed and fucked out perfectly as Tomas is abusing your attention-seeking cunt :(

- he also makes you take his entire length. all. of. it. condescendingly, with mocking tone, "aw, darling can't fit it, can't she?" (he makes you choke on it 'til you cry)

- don't worry, he'll clean you up well and give you loving massages. as he's rolling your muscles in and out, he'll make sure you won't do this again ("what did we learn today?")

- you're going to do it again, and Tomas knows it (he's honestly waiting for it to happen again)

Kuai Liang

- something something something Kuai Liang pulls all stops and makes sure to remind you what you did

- something something something, you can feel the air become ten times heavier as Kuai's steps echo on the floor ("do you think you're getting away with what you did?")

- sigh, poor reader, edged to infinity and beyond as Kuai Liang ties and bounds your arms back with his neck tie (he is so the type to wear a neck tie). his fingers press on your gspot perfectly, and you're whining for releasd

- you're bucking and humping your hips shamelessly, trying for any feeling of friction as you chase the high Kuai Liang's dangling from a string. pathetic whimpers, sad "please please please" echoing from your mouth- seriously, you should have seen this coming

- it isn't until you start crying, weeping "sorry sorry sorry" before Kuai Liang unbuckles his belt, slips a condom on, and fucks you. you cum immediately, but you don't care as he keeps pistoning in and out of you

- perfectly fucked out, Kuai Liang takes his precious time cleaning you up, cleaning the bed up, and grabbing the necessary healing items for your post-bedroom activities (he prides himself on taking care of you)

- you won't do it again (immediately)

Bi Han

- something something something Bi Han leaves mid-meeting, a meeting with important clients and shareholders, to go home and discipline you

- something something something Bi Han slamming the door and beelining for your ass (you're a victim, and the lovely sandwich you were eating lay cold as he swoops you up and out of your chair)

- it's honestly over for you and your cunt on this one. Bi Han ties you up with his necktie, then he unbuckles his belt and ties it around your neck. it's not too tight, but it's enough where it acts as a makeshift leash

- dragging you by your "leash" all the way to the arm chair in the corner of the room, he sits down and takes his pants off to reveal his throbbing head. without warning from him, and no protest from you, you suck his fat length as Bi Han smiles evilly.

- the degradation, the name-calling, the fact he has zero care for you in this moment in time (mainly because you didn't care about him when you sent that raunchy pic) put your pussy into overdrive. your slick, dripping, wet, all over your legs. Bi Han uses his foot to spread your legs wider too ("my beautiful angel.... nothing but a little play thing in my hands)

- and boy are you a play thing. you're brought up from your knees, roughly sinking onto his cock as he wraps the end of the belt over his fist a couple of times. your skin smashing against his, the delicious sound of your soaking cunt against his balls, and the disgusting (joyful) moans from yours and his mouths are delightful. over, and over, and over again will he hit that perfect spot as you keep scratching his back- a clear sign you enjoy it. you guys end in cowgirl, and he's nipping at your ear as you beg him to cum inside of you (he has a condom, but he's tempted to slip it off). much to your dismay, he denies your requests, saying that your punishment is something you shouldn't be enjoying

- just like his brothers, he'll reassure you he didn't mean any of those things- that they were part of the mood. he'll scoop you out of the bed and run a warm bath, and he'll join you as you sleep peacefully against his chest as he shampoos your hair

- of course you'll be doing this again, and Bi Han will always be ready for a challenge

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i won't tell you guys which brother represents my bf, but just know my intimate life is wonderful

the final couple of requests are coming to a close, and i'm so excited to write my own stuff for both COD and MK

aight, see yall in the next fic!

[dronebiscuitbat]

Tera and Kiara. "Birthday Emergency"

Today was Tera Doorman's sixteenth birthday. And Kiara had already gotten her best friend the best gift she could possibly think of. A red flannel shirt!

it might seem lame, and to anyone else it probably was. But Tera had been asking her parents for any new clothes they could find after she had officially transferred over to her teenager body, and now a lot of her clothes didn't fit quite right because she'd shot up like a weed! She was just as tall as Mrs. V now! Way taller then any other worker drones and especially taller then Kiara herself, a good foot taller. And she'd seen Tera eyeing it when they walked passed the shop window, like all things when it came to her best friend, she never outright said she wanted it, luckily for her she didn't need to! Kiara knew by now when Tera liked something, even when she was trying to hide it.

So she was making her way to Tera's house, gift lovingly wrapped and tucked into her backpack as they'd just got out of school. Her grey converse flattening the blue grass underneath her feet as her vents took in the fresh air. the walled little village of Sanctuary was beautiful in the spring, nestled under the thick shade of jungle canopy with flowers of every color sprouting from the tangled vine covering the circle of metallic houses that made up the colony. A Pump-Jack in the middle that thrummed each time it made it's cycle. The beating heart of town, it's lifeblood running through all of the drones that lived there.

Tera lived closer to the town gate, so that's where she was off to, the houses were stacked on top of each other. a sturdy walkway the only thing connecting the upper houses to the lower ones, she'd have to climb it. Tera's family lived right at the top, the home being slightly larger then all the others. Witch made sense, Tera's mom was the leader of the colony after all.

When she got there she rapped on the wooden door, the entire thing vibrating on it's hinges for a moment before opening wide to reveal the smiling face of Tera's father. N. Missing his signature cap at the moment, and wearing a coat that covered most of his body.

"Kiara! I was wondering when you would stop by!" He wrapped her in a crushing hug, tail wagging behind him. Kiara couldn't help but giggle at his enthusiasm. She wished her own dad was as happy to see her!

"Hi Mr.Doorman! I'm here to give Tera her birthday gift!" She greeted after he put her down. Shaking her backpack (in the visage of a mouse) gently up at him, smiling from visor seam to visor seam. N looks down at her, a slightly confused expression taking over his face.

"She's not with you? We figured you two would've come in together when she didn't show up here right after school." The same look of confusion passed over Kiara's face. Tera had told her she was headed straight home since it was the weekend, and she wanted to practice on her guitar before her parents threw her "Gotcha Day." party. It usually lasted two days or so, starting Friday evening and going on into the day Saturday. Which meant: Sleepover! (She'd already packed her pajamas!)

But if Tera wasn't here where was she?

"No. She's not with me, she said she was going straight home." She explained, confusion turned to worry on both father and best friend. N hummed, putting a finger underneath his chin. "That's odd, Tera would call us if she went somewhere..."

He was right. Tera absolutely would not lie about where she was going, if she wasn't here, something must have held her up. Maybe Rad had seen her? or more accurately, would he be the one talking her ear off about some new skateboarding trick he learned?

So she called him, not even having to scroll through her system contacts to find him, he was listed right under Tera.

It took only a single ring for him to pick up.

"Hey K. Was just on the way over to T's house for the party. Am I late or something?" His raspy, yet somehow soft voice hit her audio receptors. Well, that answered that question, she wasn't with Rad.

"Sorry, I was just calling to see if Ter-Bear was with you. But it doesn't sound like it." She sighed, forcing down the butterflies in her stomach at the sound of his voice. No time for that! Best Friend was missing!

"Nah. Not with me. Thought  I saw her heading into the gym when I left, maybe she's still there?"

The gym? There wasn't any reason for her to go into the gym when school was letting out.

"Thank yooou. I'm gonna look for her, she's gonna miss her own party!" She replied, and Rad responded with a chuckle. "Maybe she went to fight someone. wouldn't be the first time." He hung up, the double beep signifying the calls end.

That was true... Tera could be described as explosive from time to time. But it was usually only in defense of her friends, not for no reason.

Well... she had been acting strange today, being a bit quieter then usual, taking more sips from her flask and being a little... moody. But Tera had assured her everything was fine! She just felt a little warm was all. But now Kiara was concerned She hoped Tera hadn't just said that to keep her from worrying.

"I'm going to check back at the school Mr. Doorman , Rad said she might still be there." She told N before beginning her decent off the walkway again. N gave her a nod and a wave. "Alright... I'll look around town, maybe she got distracted by something."

Everything Hurt.

Tera was curled up under the bleachers in the gym, holding her sides tightly, panting as she tried to cool herself off, she'd drunk every last drop of oil in her flask that was supposed to last her all week, she'd finished it in less then a day, and it still wasn't enough... nothing was enough.

Her internals were searing, sweat building on her visor as she let out a pathetic whimper. It felt like something was moving underneath her silicone, squirming like some caught prey, she felt like she was going to throw up as she felt it shift in her back.

Another wave of pain overtook her and she sunk her fangs into her own hand to stop from screaming. She was dying, she had to be, no way anything else hurt this bad.

"Tera? Are you here?" Oh no... oh no. That was Kiara's voice, she must have come looking after she didn't show up at home. This was bad, she didn't need to see her like this!

She continued to bite into her own hand to stifle her noises, praying that she could keep herself quiet and unseen long enough for Kiara to move on.

Unfortunatly, that was not happening, as Kiara moved farther into the gym, Tera could feel an unbearable pressure in her backside before-

"AHHHHHH!" She screamed, something breaking through the silicone near her legs with a sickening squelch, boiling oil hitting the floor and running down her legs as she felt something slightly squishy hit her back with a slap. "Oh fuck..."

Tera glanced behind her, a tail with a dozen purple glowing eyes looked back, covered in her own oil now dripping onto the floor.

"Tera!" the commotion led Kiara right to her, tears pricked in Tera's eyelights, from fear or pain or just being overwhelmed, she wasn't sure.

"G-Get out of here!" She begged, her mom had warned her of this of course. Of the day her wings and tail would come in. She knew what came after, the blood-lust, the hunger. "I don't wanna h-hurt you!" Her voice was strained with pain as her tail thrashed. she could feel the fleshy wings just under her casing, pushing and pushing, there wasn't anywhere else for them to go.

"Oh my god! T-Tail..." Kiara kneeled next to her, completely ignoring Tera's plea for her to go, a hand placed on her back that was oh so heavenly cold. It almost made the heat bearable... almost.

"Please... Kiara, leave me here..." She was actually crying now, tears falling unabated on the inside of her visor as she felt a growl escape her mouth, the casing covering her back suddenly fractured, causing Tera to lurch forward in pain.

"Like this? You're burning up!" Kiara exclaimed back, taken aback by Tera's new tail by only a second before she was in front of her, grabbing both sides of Tera's face and lifting it up to face her  pretty white eyelights. "I'm with you Ter-Bear, tell me what you need."

The agonized drone whimpered, words failing as the sensation of cold hands touched her face. Oil she needed Oil.

There was no way in hell she was asking that of her though.

"You need oil, don't you?"

Dammit.

Tera shook her head despite her mouth watering at the thought of it, another wave of pain and she felt the wings started to break through, oil staining her tank top as parts of her casing broke off, she attempted to bite her hand again to stop the scream.

But, Kiara stopped her, grabbing her hand before it could make it to her mouth. "No no no, don't do that..." She hummed softly. "Don't hurt yourself."

"No... Hurt you. Leave..." The words were broken and under static, growling under every note. Kiara shook her head. "I'm not leaving, you won't hurt me. I know you better then that."

Kiara! This was not the time to be stubborn!

"You need oil right? I'm right here, you can take it from me." She offered, Tera's eyelights went hollow, and her mouth watered uncontrollably... the heat was so bad, she felt like she was about to pass out...

"No No No, B-Bad Idea- Bad Idea." More broken words, now more desperate.

"Your mouth is watering, it's okay. I promise..." Kiara drew closer, Tera wanted to pull away, she was trembling as the much smaller girl pulled her up to rest Tera's head into her shoulder, she could hear the oil pumping through the tubing, hell, she could smell it. "You won't hurt me." Kiara repeated again, hugging her gently.

Something snapped.

In a moment, Tera was sinking her fangs into her best friends exposed neck, causing the girl to yelp and stiffen as a brief flash of pain was registered through her system, a warning about a hull breach popped up on her visor but she quickly cleared it, stroking Tera's head.

Two things happened at once. A pair of fleshy wings erupted out of Tera's back, and she could feel Tera bite down on her neck harder in response, and... yeah it hurt. But Tera was probably in way more pain, so she did her best to not wince. Then Tera suddenly gripped her harder, she could feel oil pouring into her best friends mouth and out of her at a frightening rate. Her breath stuttered as more warnings began to arrive, she shut them out too, and stroked through a head of thick black hair instead.

"Mmmhuh... You... almost done?" She began to feel woozy, She was loosing... a lot of oil. But she still wasn't scared. Tera would stop, they would both be fine, she knew that.

Then, at her words, she heard a blessedly familiar sound erupt from Tera.

She was purring, her tail wrapping around Kiara's frame as the amount of oil she was loosing slowed to a trickle, a series of whimpers then followed, as she felt a long tongue lick up the wound until it stopped leaking, and Kiara felt herself sigh in relief, there she was...

It took a moment for Tera to register where she was and what she was doing, she pulled back, frightened by the massive bite mark she'd left on Kiara's neck, But Kiara just smiled, much more relieved that Tera was back to herself and collapsed into the taller girls chest.

“W-what just happened?” Tera asked, stammering as she blinked around in confusion, there was the taste of the sweetest oil she'd ever tasted in her mouth.

“Mmm. Aha… I'm kinda dizzy.” Kiara's voice came muffled from being buried in Tera's tank top. Followed by a tired giggle.

“Kia! I'm so sorry! I was just so hot and- Kia?” It didn't matter what she said, Kiara had fallen asleep the moment she knew Tera was okay. Curling up into Tera's lap as the purple eyed drone tried not to panic.

For the moment though… she let Kiara sleep, tail still wrapped around her frame as Tera flexed her new wings behind her with a sigh.

“You stubborn…. Ugh. I could've killed you.” She mumbled, moving some blonde hair out of Kiara's face. [Recovery Mode] reading out on her visor. But she couldn't stop the purring that came from her core. “You trust me too much.”

And yet, there they stayed, Tera stroking down Kiara's back, until Kiara recovered enough to wake back up…

[lw77]

Diet Pepsi 💈 (LSxMV)

Chapter 1. - Angel

Max wants more than just a sub.

Who knew helping his dad at the shop would become his own personal brand of torture. He knew his dad had regulars, but he thought they’d be – old men regulars not whatever these chippendale escapees were. 

Apparently they’re contractors, who look like every middle-aged woman’s fantasy. Including Logan’s. 

And like clock-work, the group of men enter, a few heading to the drinks and some to his mom’s home-made subs. He hears Danny’s loud laugh, followed by Charles snickering as they tease their other colleague, George, Logan’s mind helpfully supplies, as he shows them something on his phone.

Logan wonders where the other one is, Max, all ruddy cheeks, bright blue eyes and big arms, who’s sadly amiss as he looks towards the floor. 

It’s embarrassing really, how at twenty-one Logan is like a school boy with a crush. If he ever confessed all the things he’s thought, fantasised about or, God, he inwardly groans, dreamt since seeing that man, it would have his Priest drowning him in holy water. 

A tap at the counter knocks Logan out of his thoughts, as he sees Danny in front of him ready to cash out. Like he knew what was going through Logan’s head, Danny’s smile stretched wider, “What’s wrong Logie boy, you disappointed it's just us today?” 

Logan squeaks as he’s caught out, face aflame, “No idea what you’re talking about, um– will that be all?” gesturing to the stack of subs and drinks Danny’s placed on the counter. 

“I think you doooo Logie boy.” Danny croons winking, as Logan speeds up his scanning before Danny can say anything else. It doesn’t stop the man from resting his forearms on the counter and wiggling his eyebrows.

“You’re awful, I’m telling my mom not to make any more of her salami subs.” Logan whines, trying to threaten Danny’s favourite sub away in hopes of ending his teasing. 

Danny smiles cheekily in response, “Your mother loves me, she would never do that” as he taps his credit card on the reader. 

Putting the items in plastic bags, “Maybe I’ll just throw them all away then.” Logan says petulantly. Taking the bags from Logan, “Oh come on Logie boy, that would just be wasteful. Now don’t you worry, he’ll be back next week!” Danny shouts with one last wink as he heads out. 

It’s loud enough that Charles and George, who were still hanging by the front, look up and laugh as if they know exactly who Danny is referring to. It makes Logan let out an embarrassed “Danny” as he hears the group’s laughter continue out the store. 

_______________________

Logan is snug in their usual booth, waiting for Alex and Oscar to return with their first round. They’re celebrating Alex’s new job tonight.

“Alright, two pitchers of beer for us and a Sommersby cooler for the princess!” Oscar announces loudly as he sets down their drinks. Logan snatches the cooler and pulls it closer.

“Oh, come on, Logie bear. You know we’re just teasing you,” Alex says, only making Logan scowl more.

“Seriously, what’s gotten into you this week? Did your mom accidentally sew up your fuck-me jeans again or something?” Oscar asks, furrowing his brows in genuine curiousity.

Logan groans and sinks further into his seat. “No, worse.”

“Did she try to set you up with one of her awkward co-op students again?” Alex asks.

Sitting up, Logan protests, “Okay, that was one time! Checo was sweet—he just had really sweaty hands.” Realizing how pitiful that sounds once he says it, he rests his head against the booth's cushion.

Alex and Oscar sit in silence, giving him space to finally share what’s bothering him.

“You know those hot regulars my dad has? The Chippendale escapee contractors? Danny Ricc—you know him, Alex.” Leaning in, Logan hisses, “Well, they definitely know I’m into their friend or colleague, whatever he is.”

“Yeah well, Logan, you’re not exactly subtle. It’s pretty obvious you’ve got a crush on that guy,” Oscar replies, in an all too annoyingly factual tone, Logan decides.

“And your pupils get huge dude when you like someone. There’s no hiding your attraction buddy,” Alex adds, raising his hands in surrender.

“Oh my god, how am I going to face him now that I know his friends know? Meaning, he knows too. So mortifying,” Logan says, fully aware he’s whining when they’re supposed to be celebrating Alex. “Sorry, I’ll snap out of it… or I’ll move out of town.” He says the last part a little too seriously for his friends.

“Anyway, that’s my week. Now—Alex, come on, tell us about the job! The floor is yours.” Logan gestures with a flourish.

Alex and Oscar share a look. “I got hired to consult as an architect.”

Logan perks up and excitedly congratulates Alex, asking where. “At Danny Ric’s company—your favorite!”

“Oh my god, you’re going to be a part of the Chippendale escapees?” Logan squeals, both hands slammed on the table as he leans over in excitement.

Oscar, observing the scene then asks, “Time for a cheers then?”

“To Alex joining the Chippendale escapees!” they cheer, clinking their beers and can together.

“Oh my god, you’re going to work with Max. Alex, you love me, right? You’ll tell me if he ever talks about me, or if he says I’m cute?” Logan continues, getting even more embarrassing. Oblivious to the widening eyes of Alex and Oscar as they glance behind him.

“…Oh my god, he came in muscle tee a few weeks ago and I just wanted to bite his biceps because they looked so big and they are so big—”

“Ow! What the hell, Oscar? We use our words now.” Logan admonishes, bending in his seat to rub where he got kicked. But he freezes as he hears a familiar laugh. Looking up, he sees Danny standing by their table, amused, and oh god, Max, arms crossed and wearing an equally amused expression.

Now looking no better than his best friends, Logan’s eyes are wide, his face is scarlet, and his mouth hangs open in shock as he realizes they must have heard everything—or at least enough. Maybe he can learn to love Checo’s moist, moist, hands because Mexico is definitely far enough.

“Hey, boys, didn’t mean to interrupt your evening. Just came over to congratulate our dear little Alex on joining the company! Our youngest yet!” Danny sings, wiping a tear for dramatic effect.

Meanwhile, Logan, snapping out of his deer-in-headlights look, is now studiously examining the table varnish, hoping the two men forget his earlier soliloquy over the other's (big) arms.

Good-naturedly, Alex invites Danny and Max to join them in the booth, leaving Logan pressed arm to leg against Max, his best friend completely uncaring of Logan’s gay panic.

Logan starts drinking from his can, hoping to avoid any conversation. But before long, Danny, Alex, and Oscar finish the two pitchers and decide they need to get the next round. Logan’s eyes widen as he mentally pleads, *Don’t leave me alone.* But both Oscar and Alex blissfully ignore him.

Staring at his drink as if it's the most interesting thing, Logan catches a glimpse of Max turning his way.

“Heard you missed me at the store.”

Logan looks at him, feeling his cheeks flush. As Alex pointed out earlier, his attraction to Max is probably written all over his face.

“I—um, no, just wondering where you all were,” he stutters, wetting his lips. “Not just you.” He leans back against the wall as Max essentially cages him in the booth, one arm resting on the back and the other bent on the table. Max’s body warmth and sandalwood cologne envelop Logan, blanketing his senses. Max’s gaze drops to Logan’s lips, a small smirk playing on his face, "Really?" he prompts, "Ye-yeah" Logan breathes out, Max's eyes flick up to Logan's at his answer and his lips break into a smile as he replies simply “Okay, if you say so.”  And, all too soon, he leans back, creating some space as the sounds of the bar filter in again, grounding Logan, feeling like he must be in heaven with Max so close.

Clearing his throat as Danny and the others join the table, Logan sits up, gratefully accepting a new can from Oscar, who gives him a knowing look while subtly elbowing Alex. Now both friends are watching him with knowing smiles, taking in his flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

Logan glares back but falters when he feels a big hand settle just above his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. He realises he’s being asked a question. “Oh—I'm sorry, what?” he asks, confused, snapping his gaze to Max. 

It’s Danny, looking past Max with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He repeats his earlier question, fully aware of why Logan is distracted. “I asked if you’re excited to see your best friend every day now. Since your mom’s subs are legendary. And essential to a good work day”

Logan’s disbelief drips from his tone as he asks, “Even if all we have is the veggie one, Danny?” He raises his eyebrows for added effect.

Danny crosses his hand over his heart dramatically. “Even the veggie one, Logie boy! Although some of us come for the service too.” He finishes with a sidelong glance at Max.

Max, whose relaxed against the booth with his body still angled toward Logan and a comfortable hand resting on Logan’s thigh from when he squeezed it earlier to get his attention. At Danny’s insinuation, Max looks down at Logan, a small smile tugging at his lips as he gives Logan’s thigh another gentle squeeze, this time higher up, and shrugs.

The warmth from Max's touch sends a flutter through Logan's stomach, mingling with a simmering feeling in his chest that he can’t quite identify.

Thankfully, Logan is saved from responding as Oscar pulls Danny’s attention away, asking what project they’ll be starting on.

In the most teasing tone he can muster despite his fluster, he whispers, “So, service?” Looking up at Max from beneath his eyelashes.

Max leans in closer, his voice low. “You’re not the only one who's been looking, Angel.”

Logan’s face heats up further. The nickname doesn’t help his battle against arousal or the realisation that he was not subtle at all.

He blinks as he responds with a soft “uh-huh,” nodding his head, his mind feeling like cotton from their proximity and Max’s admission of mutual attraction.

Max’s gaze drifts to Logan’s lips just as Logan nervously bites his bottom lip. He’s on the verge of saying something—or maybe hoping for something more—when a cough interrupts them, making both of them look up at a smirking Danny.

“While the image of you two is a relief, we have to head back. Poker night! We just had to stop to congratulate you, Alex, on joining us.”

Logan, embarrassed by Danny’s comment, groans into his hands, while Alex thanks Danny brightly. Glancing at Danny, as he waits for Max, he leans into Logan’s ear, whispering, “See you tomorrow, Angel,” and with one last squeeze to Logan's thigh he’s out of the booth and heading for the door behind Danny. Leaving Logan bright red, his arousal flashing like a stop sign, and his two best friends laughing at his expression.  

Unhelpfully, Alex says, “Guess this means you don’t have to skip town anymore.” To which Oscar shouts, “Hear! Hear!” Logan can’t help but giggle, his embarrassment fading as he nods in agreement.

Author's note: So I listened to Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae and I just kept seeing buff/fit Max (white t-shirt, gold cross in blue jeans) and Logan vm baby boy/angel and big blown out eyes and parted lips when Max comes into his dad's store with his co-workers/friends. (i was going for a lil age diff but mostly size difference)

also i was gonna make it hotter but its like jesus had a hand on my shoulder as i got to it. maybe next chapter

[beesspacedotorg]

bbeebeeeeebebebeeee what abt the convo we’re having rn…. a lovely wonderful date with your sweetie hybrid boyfriends linocat and binnierabbit

Hey bro happy birthday. It's still your birthday where I live, so please accept this gift. Thank you for being my friend !! I hope this year around the sun treats you well. I also hope skz comes to (redacted for privacy) so we can meet up. @cbini

There's no smut in this because uhm. Because. But there are sex jokes because I'm me.

You love your boyfriends very much. When they started living with you, everyone called you insane. They asked why you would have a cat hybrid and a rabbit hybrid at the same time. Rabbits can be messy and cats cause problems on purpose they had said. Rabbits are just cats with longer ears and curled tails they had said. You’re signing yourself up for trouble they had said. You had waved your hand in dismissal, pointing at your boys and how much they loved each other and went about your business. Looking at them now, you’re starting to wish you hadn’t brushed off their concerns.

They took you to a restaurant, a nice fancy one, to celebrate. They’d told you to get a little dressed up, so you had, and they’d shown up with their slightly dressy attire and you drooled a little and Changbin had to wipe it off your chin. They’d taken pictures with you, nice aesthetic ones in the low light of the dining area, Minho’s glass of wine temporarily acting as a prop. Minho had made a salacious joke about licking wine off of your body and Changbin had kicked him in the shin. Minho then accused him of being jealous and offered to lick wine off of his body, too. It made the younger flush and shout indignantly.

All in all, the night had gone well. Your boys were handsome and polite to the waitstaff, they’d taken turns making you flush with love and something else, and they’d both made promises about what awaited you at home. The problem only started when they’d gotten their food.

You’ve seen them eat before, you know they have slightly weird eating habits brought on by them being alive or their hybrid genes or something, but it didn’t click in your mind that they would do it at restaurants, too. It had been seconds after Changbin had gotten his plate of pasta, the waiter barely away from the table, that he flipped it over onto the table cloth and started to eat it that way. You stared at him for a minute, mouth opening and closing like a fish as you tried to come up with something to say.

“Was there something wrong with the plate?” You asked, staring at the mess he was making of the table.

“Too small. The vibes were bad,” he said simply. You blinked a couple times at him before turning your attention to Minho when you heard a choking noise.

“Oh, Jesus, this is why you need to slow down when you eat.” You hand him a water and a napkin, praying he doesn’t upchuck all over the table.

“What if it runs away?” He says, staring at you. You watch his ears twitch on his head, listening to the sounds of the waitstaff milling about and the chatter of the other customers.

“Where the fuck is it gonna go?” You point at the food he’s practically inhaled, “It’s dead.”

“You never know,” is what he gives you. You sigh, looking up towards the ceiling before hanging your head in defeat. You start to eat your own food, and outside of their initial outbursts, things seem to be going fine. That is, until Binnie’s ears stand tall above his head and his nose twitches, leg thumping under the table,

“Stop that,” he says, glaring daggers at Minho.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.” Minho has a shit eating smirk on his face. He is most definitely doing something.

“What’s that noise then?”

“What noise? Are you hallucinating, Changbinnie? Should we take you to see someone?” Minho fakes concern and you hear the soft little growl that comes out of Changbin.

“Two can play this game, hyung.” You’re suddenly worried for the state of the restaurant.

“What if none played this game? Wouldn’t that be nice?” Your pleas go ignored.

“And what exactly are you planning on doing?” Minho is leaning across the table now, shoving the pretty centerpiece out of the way so he can get closer to Changbin and it’s not too long after that you hear a chirp. Minho’s ears twitch and his pupils widen before he shakes his head and glares.

“Low blow, Seo Changbin.”

“And playing frequencies only I can hear isn’t?”

“You’re just a sore loser.”

“Loser? I haven’t lost anything.” You sigh when you hear Changbin’s voice start to rise, quickly calling for the tab.

“I’m so sorry,” is what you say to the waiter after he comes back, gesturing to the mess your boyfriends made of the table and the way they’re almost wrestling right now. You tip him well, it's the least you can do.

When you get your card back you stand up, grabbing your things and hauling your boyfriends out of their seats by the collars of their shirts. If you were meaner, you’d pinch their ears between your fingers for causing a ruckus, but you aren’t, so you don’t.

Changbin’s ears hang droopily when you get outside, and he hugs your arm tightly.

“Did we make you upset?” You turn your head to look at him and his eyes are as wide as the moon. You think of that tweet, I’m not arguing with a man who has pretty brown eyes. Whatever you say, beautiful. You sigh and pet the velveteen fur of his ears softly.

“A little bit, but, I’ll get over it.” Minho plasters himself to your other side, and when you turn to look at him, his ears are pinned down.

“Ah, I’m sorry, jagiya. I just wanted to have a little fun.” Changbin punches him in the shoulder and he winces.

“Like I said, I’ll get over it.” You start trying to walk to the car, but it’s easier said than done with the two of them hanging off of you like this. You see their heads move a bit out of your peripheral vision before Minho makes an affirming little hum and you’re being half-carried half-dragged down the sidewalk.

“You’ll get over it faster if you have help,” Minho says, and Changbin nods, long ears flopping around.

“Exactly. We have to apologize to our sweetie.” You squint at them. It’s never good when they both agree on something.

“What are you going to do?” Changbin opens your car door and nudges you gently until you’re all the way in.

“Have you ever been to Paris?” Minho asks, buckling himself into the backseat.

“I was thinking about seeing the Eiffel Tower,” Changbin finishes, sliding the key into the ignition. You snort at the joke, rolling your eyes.

“I think a little tourism would be nice.” Changbin smiles at you, nose scrunching slightly, and rests a hand on your thigh.

“Good. We were thinking the same thing.”

[darth-memes]

I really mean it. Don't trust any review that you see online about anything Star Wars. Specially the Acolyte and the latest series. You would be surprised how many are made in bad faith, and with the Acolyte they have multiplied. Talk to your friends that have actually watched it and talk about it in a reasonable way. It's ok if you don't like the series or decide is not your thing, as someone who has really liked it, I know that it's far from perfect. Don't engage with reviews online unless you really really trust the person, because many are made with bad faith and/or nostalgia-tinted glasses that honestly make people forget how the original trilogy really is. It's the reason I stopped reading or watching ANYTHING resembling a review related to Star Wars because it is surprising how easy it turns into a toxic rant that many times can be boilt down into racism and misoginy.

Honestly, even avoiding all of that, with the Acolyte I almost burnt out of the fandom of how terrible it was. I luckily didn't received any hate myself but I have a friend who posts information and fun facts between other things (doesn't do reviews, or opinions, it's mostly all factual(if you have an instagram follow him in @skynobi_starwars, he is always on top of the latest news and posts frequently but without spaming)) on instagram and he was showing me the amount of comments just spewing hate whenever he posted anything about the series and it was disgusting. He said that there had always been some, but they had basically multiplied.

But that's his situation, mine was in real life. I have a coworker who also loves Star Wars and his mask fell off when on episode 3 the wItches showed up and suddenly all of his critiques were about the amount of black people and lesbians that were there. By the next episode everything was just shit and how they should fire the entire team. Basically screaming and being impossible to talk to. Which honestly made me really sad because he had always been a person with who I could talk to about anything Star Wars related. Worst of all, a younger coworker who was wondering if to watch the series entered into watching "reviews" that were outright lying about what happened in the episodes or of people that straight up didn't watch it. He showed me a few and they were all the same. I had to spend a good while proving to him how the series was review bombed even before starting and just proving almost every lie those people were telling and how most of it. It was exhausting and terrifying, I was also really worried because this coworker is very young and what he showed me bordered some alt-right beliefs that should be near NOBODY. And, holy shit, was this a slide to the far right pipeline.

The only reason I didn't burn out is because I have a trusted group of friends with whom I could comment the episodes and have fun making jokes about it. Curiously, my dad also watched it and enjoyed it. But that's basically that's all I had to reduce my feedback of Star Wars for WEEKS to not burn out with how everything was going both online and real life.

And I know that there's a lot of toxic parts of the Star Wars fandom. My recommendation is not engage with any of the big names in the fandom (you know who I am referring to, specially in Youtube). Again, it's not that you cannot be critical, there is a lot to be critical in Star Wars, there is also much that one may dislike, but there is a line. And a lot of people that called themselves reviewers crossed and are so far away in their delusion of how anything that Disney does becomes an attack against them that they will never be able to enjoy the saga again. But raging like that will just result in another Rise of Skywalker, not another Empire Strikes Back.

Instead, look for friends with who you enjoy talking about Star Wars and have fun watching, playing, reading, etc with the saga. Because at the end of the day that's what we want, to have fun with it and enjoy the journey. Sometimes it may disappoint, but if you are always looking for that like a big part of the fandom that posts online, you are never going to enjoy it again.

And isn't Star Wars better when you focus on what makes you happy about it than on what you didn't like?

(Also, again, watch out for the people who are being racist, mysoginistic, homophobic... I can't emphasize how even I, that I try to curate as much as I can my experience in the fandom, I found them fast this time)

[imogenkol]

— WIP WEDNESDAY

tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton and @neonshrike thank you lovelies!!

Sorry for the double Imogen x Bix today, but I am especially Unwell about them lately. Very first “I love you” anyone?

Bix got out of bed and collected her discarded clothes off the floor of the ship — clothes that Imogen had started to nearly trip over whenever she got up during the night — and dressed herself as she made her way to the vanity. 

Imogen sat up and watched her mechanic freshen up for the day. It was a routine she witnessed a dozen times or so now, yet she drank in every detail and every movement until she knew it by heart. If she shut her eyes, she could calculate precisely when Bix would move on from washing her face to combing her hair. 

That was her favorite part. Imogen was infatuated with the way Bix brushed her hair back before she braided or pinned it up. Perhaps it was the slight flex in her arms when she raised them. Or the perfect sculpt of her jawline and neck once they were exposed. Or the serene concentration on her gorgeous features as her fingers wove strands of dark hair with seamless practice. 

“What?” Bix asked without a glance in Imogen’s direction. Right on cue. 

A newer addition to her routine, though her tone had gradually shifted with each new day.

It started a little playful, like she expected Imogen to drag her back into bed for more of their intimate indulgences. Of course, that craving was always at the back of Imogen’s mind when she watched her. How could it not be? But lately, she started to watch her simply just to watch her — to admire her. An intention that neither had much experience with. 

Then the question came out exasperated. Bix never did like it much when Imogen's eyes lingered on her while she worked. Or so she said. In reality, the mechanic did not appreciate the distraction while she was on the clock. During her own time, they rather enjoyed the little game of poking at each other until someone’s composure cracked and they would finally give in. 

This was not one of those times. There were no expectations. There was no tension in the air. 

For the past weeks, Imogen had no answer for her. She could not adequately explain why she felt so enamored by such a mundane scene and Bix grew impatient with her. 

Imogen wondered if the explanation was more straightforward than she previously thought. She wondered if this was what love was — to be utterly fascinated by the most monotonous actions simply because the one who holds your heart is doing them. Because they turn the unextraordinary into extraordinary. 

If that were the case, then she may finally have an answer for her. 

“I love you,” Imogen said. Her heart leapt into her throat after the second syllable, and for a terrifying moment, she thought something far less pleasant might come up right after. Imogen swallowed hard and forced her jaw to clamp shut until the sensation passed. 

Bix completely stopped partway through a braid and turned to look at Imogen as if trying to decipher if she had heard her right. 

The sincerity of the statement was not in any doubt, but both women could not deny how foreign those three words sounded coming from the bounty hunter’s lips. They felt strange, even when she rehearsed the phrase in her mind. Imogen worried she did not fully understand the concept quite yet, but they had come this far. 

Why not take another leap?

Bix’s expression softened into what Imogen could almost describe as a bashful smile and she returned her attention back to the mirror. “Have you ever said that to anyone before?”

Imogen rolled her eyes, though the relief she felt from the lighthearted jab coaxed forth the same exact upturn at the corner of her own mouth. “You know full well that I never have, darling.”

“You’ve said it to me in a hundred different ways, but kind of seem allergic to the word itself,” Bix replied matter-of-factly. 

Imogen contemplated the statement for a beat. “Have the other ways I choose to express my devotion been inadequate?”

“No, not at all. I’m just…” She finished the braid and her hands dropped to her sides with a thoughtful exhale. “I’m still breaking through those walls of yours, I guess.”

Imogen rose from the cot and approached her lover with calm purpose, knowing that the unrestrained honesty of her next words will assure Bix that what she feared were walls were merely doors. And they would always be open to her from then on.

“Whatever love I had no knowledge of possessing is now entirely yours.” Imogen tucked a stray strand of the mechanic’s hair behind her ear and ran the backs of her fingers down her neck. “You are my love.” 

“Say it again,” Bix murmured, intensely holding Imogen’s gaze as she leaned in ever so slightly. “It’s good to hear.”

“I love you,” Imogen repeated obediently. It came out easier the second time, but still felt like a brand new muscle to be flexed — one she was afraid to damage if she used it too often. 

Bix grabbed Imogen by her hips, fingers slipping just underneath the hem of her shirt to brush lightly against her cool skin as she pulled her in. Imogen felt her blood suddenly rush hotly throughout her veins as if her whole body absorbed her lover’s warmth from such a small touch. 

The heat bloomed into an all encompassing warmth once their lips met. Bix kept their cadence sweet and chaste. Imogen fell into it like a bath and allowed the other woman to lead the lazy push and pull. The soft sensations prompted the bounty hunter to part her lips in a silent invitation, which Bix answered by squeezing her hips and drawing her in deeper. 

They slowly parted until their foreheads gently rested together. Imogen could feel their shared smiles even with her eyes closed. 

“I love you,” Bix said softly against her lips.

The Force around them seemed to sing with those three words as they echoed in Imogen's ears.

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