#but now I want to get them to the surface if I can so I should see if that changes anything

[grison-in-space]

Y'all if you really need this to be all queer all the time I can support that but it's not that fucking hard to do. Make em both bi or pan or nonbinary or any number of fun things. The notion of a romance founded in mutually seeking an abortion and the intimacy of sharing one's desires for the present and maybe the future against the backdrop of ensuring one another's freedom from parenthood (at least, right now) is too good a concept to let go.

Couple of Texan kids, say. I spent a long time there, it's a natural pick for me. They're in college and they go to one of those keggers the frats throw, meet at a wild party as college kids, maybe they're freshmen or sophomores. Call em Sam and Kris so I don't have to specify which character has which genitals.

Sam's a nervous anxious perfectionist with huge career plans and big dreams who has life planned out in exhaustive (and exhausting) detail, only even at this party because a friend insisted on a break between exam rounds. There's a lot of internal pressure built up that's going to explode the moment Sam relaxes. Kris is a little unformed, not sure what major to pick or what career to settle on, still trying to work out what kind of person might be good to grow into, good at surface connections but kind of lonely for something deeper. The frat parties are familiar and comfortable—Kris knows how they work and how they run, and if you're friendly and you smile at people and maybe hook up now and again you get to feel REALLY connected and useful, and that's a heady feeling. They meet at the party Sam's friend picked out and immediately feel the attraction and hook up while totally shit faced—huge aberration for Sam, maybe not so much for Kris. There's a condom, but it breaks. It doesn't seem like a big deal in the moment, but in the morning, that's another story.

Sam is panicked. A baby is going to derail all their careful plans and their self control, but you can't not step up to take care of a baby. Ohhhhhh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, what do we do? Kris is quiet as they consider the mess and the possibilities. Shit. Shit shit shit. They maybe exchange numbers and withdraw for a minute until someone's period is late. They might try to find plan B but neither of them is entirely sure where you buy that shit and it takes a few days to find out, by which point it's too late. And then the period fails to show up, and it fails to show up, and the pregnancy test reads positive, and they're running out of time...)

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

IF SAM HAS A DICK: they are a moral and ethical enough person that they do not consider abandoning Kris as an option if the pregnancy goes to term. They may propose marriage or coparenting as a potential option but they are clearly terrified by all possible options.

Kris is touched and kind of flattered. They're not sure whether they want kids or not, but now doesn't feel like a great time with everything so up in the air. Anyway, Sam is hot but used diapers and vomiting do not sound hot at ALL right now, and Kris's parents are kind of distant and definitely aren't going to be any kind of useful. They broach a preference for an abortion, Sam sags in shocked relief, and then starts talking about figuring out how to pay for it—not what Kris expected—and making plans to skip classes and talk to teachers to figure out the logistics. Oh, Kris thinks, feeling warm and fuzzy: Kris expected to be on their own to fix this, but Sam is acting like this is both their responsibility equally to resolve. They've never felt cared for like that. Oh...

IF KRIS HAS A DICK:

Sam is hyperventilating over the pregnancy test results and acting as if going to one party doomed them for all time, and Kris inexplicably kind of wants to hug them? Shit happens sometimes. They ask tentatively what Sam actually wants as Sam starts collapsing under the weight of the impending ruin of their life and how disappointed "everyone" will be and all the bad things that might happen, and Sam whips their head over and stares for a second in astonishment before saying, huntedly, "I want for none of this to be happening!"

"Oh, okay. Do you want an abortion?"

"I can't afford to on my own, I'm going to have to ask my parents for extra money and they are not going to be happy. Shit, shit, shit, I'm going to be paying for this until the end of time, I don't have time for this—" and Sam bursts into tears. Kris feels bad and, like, look. Kris likes to help people anyway, and it's not like this situation isn't equally Kris's own fault. So they offer to help Sam figure this out and pay for the whole thing—they've got a job at a bar that can cover it—and they help Sam calm down and explore some options so that together they can find a place to get an abortion. They offer to drive, too: that means they don't have to wait as long on a bus or something but Sam can study from the passenger seat. It's not like any of Kris' classes require a lot of effort; psychology is good for that much. Let's make a day trip out of it.

Sam, who is used to having to do everything on their own, is feeling really cared about and seen right now. And, well, Kris is really hot...

There you go. It's a fucking romance. Deal with it.

there's an extremely niche plot in romance fiction wherein our invariably heterosexual leads fall in love after a night of passion leads to an unplanned pregnancy and they're now bound together by an impending child. I cast no judgment on anyone who enjoys this, but since I'm an evil gay and this is my personal nightmare scenario I want to see a zany romance novel premised on the opposite resolution: a couple falls in love while on a whirlwind roadtrip to obtain a legal abortion

[trypo-p]

TF2 ISSUE 7 SPOILERS //

Alright alright I know everyones going crazy over the ending of the comic (I am too) but I don't see this moment talked about enough and how beautifully done it is.

We start with the Administrator: The man who took everything from her is finally dead. She reigns victory. She is now living alone in peace, leaving flowers for each and every gravestone that was left before Zepheniah Mann's passing. The gravestones left before him are carved out beautifully, time and effort put into each and every one of them. The Administrator even lays out the roses so they look like they're grown out around the gravestones.

And here we have Zepheniah Mann's grave. A slab of rock with only his initials carved into it. The other gravestones are large, extravagant, and have their full names carved into them. Zepheniah's remains small; little thought put into it.

The gravestone wasn't even for him in the first place. It was for whichever of his son's died first, whichever one failed him. He himself didn't put much care into the gravestone, so why should he deserve anything better? In the end, he was treated the way he treated others. He was the failed son.

The Administrator leaves the stems of the roses out for him. She just places them there, no thought put into it seemingly. But there is SO much thought in this very moment. She had everything planned out from the very beginning.

Every day, she watched as the man grew older and older. She was there for his passing, and as far as we can tell, she caused his death. She leaves out roses for each and every grave, except for his. She leaves the stems. To her, he doesn't deserve the flower, he deserves the thorns. They aren't placed with care like the other flowers had been, they are simply put down. She gives him exactly what he deserves.

The atmosphere has suddenly lost that beautiful lighting and vibrant colours, the sky has become more gray and dreary. The Administrator is waking up more devastated, putting less time and effort into her daily life. The stems are turning brown, wilting under her eyes. She cares less. She seems relatively unaffected by the things around her. She gets stung by a bee, but doesn't seem to care. However that last panel says everything. She's growing tired of doing the same thing day in and day out. The cycle of depression is a tiring one. Soon enough you realize: is it even worth it? After all of this, after I finally got the one thing I wanted. But what now?

The scene is now almost completely devoid of colour. The weather is gloomy, and the Administrator looks like she has been bedridden for a while. She has taken the gravestone into her bedroom, now having to wake up to the reminder that he's dead and gone, she got what she wanted. But at what cost? There's nothing left to do anymore. She set herself out for one goal and one goal only her entire life. What was the point anymore?

There's so much to unpack in these panels, I doubt I've even scraped the surface of this. She's lost all emotion, the next few panels showing that she doesn't believe there's a point in living anymore. It's a terrifying thought, setting your entire life up to do one specific thing, getting that thing done, and then having nothing else left to live for. It's such a well-done portrayal of how depression can destroy you from the inside out.

Revenge is sweet, but it has a bitter aftertaste.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

BANG-ABLE | Jeon Jungkook | Drabble 4

Summary: You get upset when you see other girls flirting with Jungkook but he always makes sure that you know you're the only one he wants Pairing: f!reader x Sex Bot Jungkook Word Count: 2.1k~ Warnings: Smuttttt hehe Requested by an anon 💜

"So yeah I was thinking maybe we could hang out sometime? My friends and I are going out on Friday a-" "Can I come?" I ask, cutting off the woman at the coffee shop that's decided to chat up Jungkook.

I swear I leave his man alone for five minutes and he's already got a line of woman drooling over him.

"Um I'm sorry...who are you?" she asks, scoffing as if she owns him and I'm the one that's imposing. "She's my girlfriend" he says and pulls me in by my hips, kissing me in front of her to make a point leaving her turning her face in disgust.

"Way to lead a girl on" she huffs and walks off.

"Not his fault that you couldn't take a hint Honey" I call after her, telling myself I can't keep bringing him out with me when I'm in the wrong headspace.

I just wanted some company though...plus Ava was busy so I didn't have much of a choice.

"Hi Baby" Jungkook says, coaxing my focus back over to him. "Hi" I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest, clearly still upset making him smile.

"I don't know why you let them talk to you" I huff and sit down at the table he had gotten us with him sliding in across from me, lacing our fingers together and placing a kiss on my knuckles.

"Because I like seeing that look on your face. Plus I know you get satisfied when you see their reactions, knowing that you have something they want but couldn't get even if they tried" he reminds me but it's not good enough to get me out of this bad mood, not today.

"I would rather you just ignored them or told them you have a girlfriend" I huff for what feels like the twelfth time but it doesn't seem to bother him.

"You know I hardly ever get to interact with people besides you and Ava, just think of it as research" he explains leaving me cocking a brow and echoing the last word.

"Yeah you know, I get to be outside of the four walls of our home and learn how to evolve and treat you better and you get peace of mind because you know I'd never want anyone else but you" he continues leaving me sighing, knowing he really doesn't get the chance to get out much and observe the world.

His patterns and behaviors do switch up a bit every time I bring him out with me so I have to admit that it does make things seem less monotonous, makes him feel real.

I just don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing...

"Come on" he says and gets up, waiting for me to follow and I do so cautiously. "I'm not gonna hurt you or anything" he laughs. "I just know you're not gonna enjoy being here anymore after what happened so let's just go for a walk" he offers, holding out his hand for me and so I resign to his idea and take it, allowing him to lead the way.

Our walk is quiet, contemplative even and it leaves him debating on whether or not to ask me what's wrong when he can infer the answer already, or at least part of it.

"I'm sorry" he says and pulls me aside to a more secluded area, gaining us a little more privacy. "I know you're just acting on your programing but I'm just not in the best headspace right now" I admit, having let my emotions simmer under the surface for a while now, leaving him placing a kiss on my forehead, a further expression of his apologetic state.

"You wanna talk about it?" he ask, cupping my face but not making me look at him, knowing I'd rather have a second to debate on if I'm ready to yet. I decidedly shake my head, realizing I'm not and he hums, not pushing it further, knowing that although in an area hidden from most of the people surrounding us this is not a place for uncomfortable conversations.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, now bringing my face back over to his, stroking my cheek and giving me a sad smile, thinking it might make me feel better and so I nod, accepting his request.

He places his lips against mine, the first time he's done so since we left the house, knowing that public displays of affection tend to make me a little uncomfortable at times. This time the kiss feels different though, I can feel the intensity growing with every meeting, a familiar fluttering felt deep within me.

"Jungkook wait" I gasp, the need for air almost forgotten, trailing his lips down my neck as a compromise but not ceasing his efforts to convey how much he wants me.

"Jungkook someone could see us" I reprimand him half heartedly, tilting my head to the side automatically, my body going through the same song and dance we've done time and time again. "Don't worry, I'll be able to sense them coming" he says, alerting me to another one of his features that I had yet to discover.

"You mean to tell me you have sensors that'll alert you if someone is coming just so we can have sex in public?" I scoff, pushing him off of me so I can see his face, needing to know if he's lying or not. "Well...yeah" he says as if it's the most normal thing in the world...news flash, nothing is normal with him.

"What have I gotten myself into?" I sigh, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples giving him the opportunity to come in closer again, placing his hands on my hips and continuing his onslaught of kisses, no doubt leaving a mark or two.

"Let me make you feel good. Just for a little bit, yeah?" he asks, no doubt sensing my arousal that's starting to leak out. "Are you sure you'll know before someone sees?" I ask after contemplating it for a second and he nods, his kisses now on my collarbone, threatening to go lower.

"I know you want to" he temps and I can't ignore that I do. We both know that this would help improve my mood just a little bit so I don't blame his programing for coming up with this solution. My resigning sigh replaced by a whine, him biting down on my collarbone to make me answer sooner.

"Think you can make me cum in three minutes?" I ask, challenging his abilities when I know for a fact that he can. "I don't need three minute doll" he chuckles and slides his hand from my waist to my hip to my thigh and slips it up my skirt, taking his time to tease me making me groan from impatience.

"Come on, let me take my time with you" he rasps in my ear, playing with the elastic of my underwear. "We don't have time" I remind him but he snaps it back making me jump from the surprise abuse to my hip.

"We have plenty of time" he counters and places a kiss below the shell of my ear, his fingers now changing course and trailing their way to my inner thigh, soon rubbing me through my thong, the damp spot on it undeniable making me mewl at the sensation.

"Jungkook please" I whine, fed up with the teasing so he relents this time, pushing it to the side and running his finger through my folds, catching me off guard when it starts to vibrate against me, placing my hand over my mouth, preventing the moan that was about to come out from being completely audible to any passerby, no matter if they can see us or not.

He dips a finger inside of me, rubbing his thumb against my clit, kicking up the buzzing sensation, making me whimper, the pleasure bubbling up sooner than I had expected.

I had no fucking idea he could do this, the vibrating abilities seemingly hidden from me for a moment like this, when he knows I need to cum hard and fast, voyeurism not being one of my kinks...yet.

"Fuck, Jungkook. Please" I gasp, the intensity of his fingers enough to tip me over but when he kneels down in front of me I about lose it there. His mouth attaching to me immediately, his tongue exploring my cunt and making my eyes roll back, my throat gone completely dry.

I lace my fingers through his hair and pull at his locks, the balance against the tree not being enough for me anymore as he throws one of my legs over his shoulder, granting him better access, his slurping against me making my eyes roll back, forbidden sounds from him making me lose my sense of sanity, forgetting where we are.

Once he places his vibrating thumb on my clit again I'm gone, cumming harder than I have in a while, the intensity of it leaving my knees weak, threatening to make me fall to them.

Once he's stopped licking me clean, the mewls from overstimulation heard loud and clear he gets out from under my dress and smirks at me, clearly satisfied with the work he's done. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, not bothering to try to clean up properly, getting off his knees and pressing his lips against mine again, the taste of myself of his lips enough to make me wet again.

I hear a scoff from behind Jungkook and I bite down on his lip in surprise, backing away from him, him not flinching at all with the lack of feeling absent from his robotic state. "This is a public park you freaks" the same woman from the coffee shop reprimands us, mortified by the scene she happened upon.

"Had to make it up to her for earlier" he shrugs leaving her scoffing once more, her obvious favorite form of response and storming out. Her cheeks now tinted a dark pink from sheer embarrassment, but no doubt mixed with anger.

Jungkook chuckles and turns back to me, expecting my reaction to be just as amused as his but I'm mad. More than mad I'm furious.

"You said you'd be able to stop before someone got close enough to see us!" I growl through gritted teeth making him coo at my now humiliated reaction. "What? I figured it would be best to show her who I'm really interested in, and clearly belong to" he says and pulls me in by my hips with me reluctantly dragging my feet all the way.

"Love you" he chuckles, infuriating me further. "I hate you" I counter and he laughs, "I'm sure you do" he replies and turns to walk away from me making me chase after him.

"Hey! I'm not done talking to you" I call out, trying to yank him to stop but of course it doesn't work, his strength unparalleled leaving me again dragging behind him awkwardly sighing before interlinking our arms to keep him close on this suddenly crowded sidewalk, people no doubt coming out to watch the sunset, me completely disregarding that replaced by my anger towards him.

"Let's just go home, we can continue our conversation there" he chuckles leaving me now being the one to scoff, muttering curses towards him to myself, his hearing impeccable, never being able to hide even the slightest whisper.

"Yes but I'm your dumb fucking robot, emphasis on the fucking" he says, his corny try of making me smile unsuccessful, leaving me rolling my eyes, the reaction although not initially expected making him the one who's smiling as a result.

"I love you" he tries again but is met with silence, "Oh Jungkook I love you too, you know exactly how to eat me out just right. Oh please won't you do it again?" he says in literally my voice, yet another feature hidden from me.

"Shut up!" I growl making him laugh, my clear surprise to it thoroughly amusing.

"Didn't you read the manual? I'm surprised you haven't asked me about my other features besides the basics of replicating human sex" he says, loud enough for just anyone to hear but luckily we're out of earshot. "I thought it was pretty self explanatory" I say in a hushed tone after placing my hand over his mouth, him licking it as a result making me withdraw it immediately.

"What? 'How to fuck your robot' wasn't interesting enough for you?" he chuckles, using the term Ava and I made up for said manual. "Just shut up and get in the car" I groan and he thankfully does as he's told, telling me everything he can do in very, very explicit detail all the way home.

"You wanna try some of them out" he temps, sliding his hand along my thigh once we pull up to the house. "NO!" I growl and get out of the car, slamming the door leaving a very very satisfied Jungkook to follow behind.

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[mrsfancyferrari]

Dancing on Ice

Summary: FC43 + “I can’t ice skate amor, I’ll break all my bones.”

Song: Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande

Taglist: @eapunetaestoestadificil

Author’s note: I've never written about ice skating before so bear in mind! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 10.8k

You step onto the glistening surface of the ice, feeling the cool air brush against your cheeks like a gentle whisper. The skating rink is vacant, save for the faint music echoing from the speakers overhead

This is your sanctuary, the place where you feel most alive, where your heart dances in tandem with your movements. You take a deep breath and inhale the smell of fresh ice, the scent of excitement and endless possibilities.

But today isn’t just about you. Today, you want Franco to experience this world—to share a piece of your heart tucked away in every swirl of your skates.

You glance toward the entrance, and there he is: Franco Colapinto, your boyfriend, standing at the threshold, his tall, athletic frame now almost comically awkward as he awkwardly adjusts the ice skates laced around his ankles.

“Why do I feel like a baby giraffe?” he calls out, chuckling nervously.

You can’t help but laugh too, your heart swelling with affection. “You’ll be fine, amor! Just take it one step at a time.”

Franco rolls his eyes, but a smile plays on his lips. “One step at a time? It feels more like one slip at a time,” he says as he takes his first tentative steps onto the ice.

You can see the concentration etched on his face as he clutches at the air to find balance.

“I can’t do this amor, I’ll break all my bones.” he muttered, trying to balance on his wobbly feet.

“You won’t break all your bones, I promise,” you tease, gliding toward him effortlessly.

“Easy for you to say! You have a lifetime of practice,” he replies, his voice a mix of excitement and trepidation. “I can’t even stand up without feeling like I’m about to topple over!”

“C’mon, let’s do it together,” You extend your hand, willing him to take it. You know his tendency to overthink things, to become overly self-critical, and you want to ease that anxiety, even just a little.

Without a moment of hesitation, he takes your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours with a grip that feels warm and reassuring.

The initial moments are filled with a few shaky steps and laughter. Every time Franco wobbles, you can’t help but giggle, your laughter ringing out across the rink.

“See cariño? It’s not so bad!” you say, your voice light with encouragement.

“I can’t tell if I’m moving forward or just inching toward certain doom,” he smiles, his eyes sparkling with a blend of fear and exhilaration.

“You’re doing great! Now, try to relax your knees. Bend them like this.” You demonstrate, your body gliding effortlessly across the ice as if it were your second skin.

He followed your movements with his gaze, a mix of admiration and disbelief etched on his face. You had seen that look before, knew how he loved watching you skate—how it made him forget the world for a moment.

“Are you going to try that jump again?” Franco called out, his voice carrying across the chilly afternoon air. You glanced back at him, a playful smile curling your lips.

“Maybe,” you replied, pushing off the ice, your blades cutting through with a crisp sound. “But only if you promise to catch me if I fall!”

He laughed, a rich sound that warmed the chill around you. “I’ll try to catch you.”

You concentrated, feeling the cool wind against your face as you executed the jump. Time seemed to freeze; with a perfect landing, your heart soared. Cheering, you glided back to him.

“How did I do?” you beamed.

“Like a swan, hermosa!” Franco exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. “I swear, you get better every time.”

His praise made your cheeks flush, and you brushed your hair off your forehead, trying to play it cool. “It’s just practice. You should give it a go sometime.”

“Me? No way!” he chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I’d rather watch you shine.”

You stepped closer, feeling the warmth radiate from him. “You’re not scared, are you? C’mon, I could teach you.”

“Well, I’ll try to look as graceful as you,” he said, his voice light but filled with feigned optimism. “But I’ll probably just end up face-first on the rink.”

“Don’t worry! I’ll be right here to catch you,” you reassured him, enthusiasm coursing through your veins as you took his gloved hand in yours.

You felt the warmth radiating from him, a welcome contrast to the cold around you. Slowly, you pulled him along, watching as he took shaky steps beneath the weight of his own apprehension.

With each stride, the sound of his skates zipping across the ice harmonized beautifully with the gentle melody that enveloped you.

Observing the flicker of determination ignite in his eyes was a joy unlike any other; for a fleeting moment, you could see him beginning to ease into the rhythm.

“You can do this, amor! Just trust yourself!” Your voice was filled with a bubbling laughter that echoed in the spaces between you.

As the fear melted away, joy illuminated his features, and what had once felt like an intimidating vastness transformed into your shared world of warmth.

“Okay, okay, I’m feeling a little bit better!” Franco exclaimed, his smile infectious, making his cheeks flush against the biting cold. “But I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Ice skating! Who even likes ice skating?”

“I do!” you replied, a laugh escaping as you effortlessly glided toward him again, your fingers intertwining with his. “Ice skating is like flying, Franco. It’s freedom. It’s beautiful!”

“Flying, you say?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “I’m more like a flying squirrel, but sure!”

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection and amusement. “Alright, then let’s embrace your inner flying squirrel!”

You pulled him forward, teaching him to lean into the turns, guiding him cautiously along as he found his footing.

The ice was an echoing realm of freedom for you, but it was a whole new world for him. You could sense his insecurity, yet with every few strides, he grew bolder, the apprehension beginning to unfurl.

As you twirled in front of him, he laughed at your playful antics.

"Are you sure you didn’t slip anything into my coffee this morning?" he teased, finally smiling back at you.

“Only a healthy dose of confidence,” you responded mischievously, spinning in place again before extending your arms wide. “Now, try to match my flow.”

“Easier said than done!” he said as he mirrored your movements, wobbly yet resilient. You laughed, trying to pull him closer so he could feel your energy and steadiness.

With each revolution, something clicked within him. Franco’s eyes sparkled with determination now, even as his balance faltered once or twice, his body weaving like a willow in the wind.

You steadied him with a quick squeeze of his hands, never letting go entirely.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it!” he exclaimed, his excitement infectious. “Wait, I actually feel good! Like, really good!”

“See? You’re a natural.” You beamed proudly, your heart racing with joy for him. “Just imagine how smooth you’ll be on race day if you just keep trusting yourself.”

He shot you a playful glare. “Are you trying to turn me into an ice-skating prodigy? Because I’m more into racing, you know?”

“Well, you can be both! Just think about it—Franco, the world’s first professional ice skater and racer!” You had to stifle a laugh as he pretended to ponder that monumental decision.

“Sounds like a lot of work. How about I just stick with being your boyfriend?” he said, his hazel eyes flickering with mischief.

“You’re more than my boyfriend; you’re my partner on and off the ice,” you said genuinely, squeezing his hands tighter for emphasis. “And I’m not letting you go, so you better get used to it.”

As he looked at you, something shifted in the air—a moment suspended beyond ice and skates, creating its own magic. “Thank you,” he replied softly, sincerity shining through his tone. “For believing in me.”

The words settled warmly between you, and as your feet guided you across the surface, you felt connected not just by your hands but by the joy of shared experiences. Franco found his rhythm, those early fears evaporating with each graceful stride.

“Can you feel it?” you prompted as you began spinning, your feet gliding effortlessly. “Can you feel the freedom?”

He spun in place, attempting to emulate you, albeit with less grace. “I’m starting to! But I might need a little more practice!” He laughed, but this time, it was lighter, more joyous.

You couldn’t help your laughter, a melody shared between you. “More practice will come. And hey, if you fall, I promise to catch you,” you teased, your heart swelling with affection.

As you circled each other, the world outside the rink faded, and all that mattered was the two of you. Every worried thought he’d held on to was gently replaced with laughter, joy, and the bright glow of confidence.

Suddenly, Franco lost his balance, his swift attempt to spin faltering, and he stumbled towards you. Without a second thought, you instinctively pulled him close to prevent a fall.

As his weight leans into you, you manage to steady him, the warmth of his body contrasting sharply with the cold chill around you. His hazel eyes staring at you, a small smile dancing on his lips. His brown curls flutter against your cheek, and for a moment, the cold world around you melts away.

“I told you,” you chuckled, your eyes meeting his with warmth, “I wouldn’t let you break anything before your race.”

He smiled, his expression now a mix of gratitude and admiration. “I think I can manage with a little help from my favorite professional.”

Your heart soared at the endearment. “Always,” you promised, your laughter echoing against the ice.

As time passed, he not only found his balance but began to experiment with spins. “Okay, check this out!” he called, determination written all over his face.

His movements were clumsy but earnest. You stood back, watching, heart swelling with pride. “I’m going to try a spin!”

“Just remember to keep your weight in the right place!” you shouted back, excitement bubbling in your chest. Franco seemed to heed your words; he steadied himself, drew a breath, and began to spin.

Your cheers filled the air as he completed the maneuver without stumbling—an almost miraculous feat for a beginner.

“Did you see that?” he exclaimed, eyes sparkling with life. He spun around once more, a little more confident each time.

Encouraged by your enthusiasm, he shouted, “I’m going to try something bigger! A flying spin!”

“Be careful!” you hollered as he gained speed, the adrenaline coursing through both of you. He took a deep breath, launched himself into the air, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed he would soar.

But reality proved unforgiving; Franco missed his landing. Time slowed as you watched, eyes widening in horror, and instinct kicked in. You dashed toward him, desperate to help him regain his balance.

But the moment you reached him, the inevitable happened—you both fell.

The world crashed to silence as you landed on the ice with a thud. The cold bit at your skin, and it took a moment to register what had transpired. You glanced over your shoulder, concern flooding your senses.

Franco had fallen on his back, making a pillow of his body, still clutching you tightly to protect you from the impact.

“Mi amor, are you alright?” he grunted, his face contorted with discomfort.

A wave of dizziness washed over you, but your concern snapped you awake. “I’m okay, I think…” You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you shifted your weight to examine him more closely.

“Are you alright?” Your hands cupped his cheeks, brushing away the ice shavings that clung to his skin.

“Yeah, amor, just a small fall,” he muttered, attempting to smile through the obvious pain, fingers squeezing your hips reassuringly. Even in a moment of chaos, he remained protective.

Your heart ached at the sight of him. “You scared me!” you said, a mixture of love and exasperation in your voice as you detected the underlying wince in his expression. “You should’ve just fallen on the ice instead of trying to catch me!”

“And let my girlfriend get hurt? Not a chance,” he responded, his eyes softening.

Shivers danced down your spine as you felt the warmth of his hands against you, a fleeting moment of tenderness amidst the chaos.

With a grunt, he shifted and sat up, still holding you. “I’m sorry. I thought I could nail it, just like you. You make this look so easy,” he replied, brushing loose strands of hair behind your ears.

“It’s okay, Franco. You did amazing for your first time! I promise, it takes practice,” you assured him, your heart swelling with affection and admiration. “The fact that you even tried a flying spin is impressive!”

“You really think so?” A hint of doubt lingered in his voice, and you could see the way his breath hitched in uncertainty.

“Absolutely! You were fearless,” you said, leaning closer for emphasis. “And I love that about you.”

His gaze fixed on yours, the warmth in his hazel eyes igniting a spark of connection between you. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he said, his tone sincere, laced with admiration. “I want to learn this just to impress you more.”

Your heart danced in rhythm with the flutter of his words.

“You are beyond ridiculous,” you laughed, shaking your head.

With a grunt, he shifted to sit up, still holding onto you. “I’m sorry. I thought I could nail it, just like you. You make this look so easy.” He brushed loose strands of hair behind your ears, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

You examined his face, searching for any sign of injuries. “You better not be injured,” you said, half-joking and half-serious, concern lacing your words.

“I would do the same again to protect you,” he replied, his voice firm yet soft, almost as if he was convinced of his own capabilities.

“Franco, you can’t,” you said, your hands on his shoulders grounding him. “I don’t want you to get injured.”

Your palms pressed into him, feeling the steady heat of his body beneath the chill in the air, while his hands rubbed slow circles on your waist and leg, an attempt to soothe both of your worries.

“Te amo más que a la vida en sí,” he muttered softly, his forehead resting against yours. I love you more than life itself.

The warmth of his words sent shivers racing down your spine. It was a phrase you adored, an affirmation that always made your heart flutter.

"Yo también te amo, mi amor," you replied, the familiarity of the words wrapping around you like a cozy blanket against the chill of the rink. I love you too, my love.

His eyes sparkled at your reply, and in that moment, you felt that intoxicating rush, like you did when you first started dating two years ago. Your heartbeats were erratic, fluttering like a trapped butterfly.

“Would it be inappropriate to kiss you here?” he asked, his voice teasing yet laced with sincerity as he leaned just a fraction closer, eyes darting between yours and your lips.

“It might raise a few eyebrows,” you replied, feigning seriousness, though your heart was racing in anticipation.

“Like who? Your manager?” he teased, referring to the figure of authority bundled in her coat, observing from the bleachers with a look of bemusement.

Behind her, a few paramedics stood chatty but alert, ready to intervene if needed.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay, you’re not wrong about that. But we’ve got all this space and ice, and if we get caught… I’ll never hear the end of it. Not to mention, you’ll probably never want to skate again!”

“Exactly! So, we should make this moment count. The ice is ours!” He leaned in a little more, his intent oh-so-clear now.

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks, fighting the laughter and the nerves.

“Franco,” you began, trying to maintain some semblance of decorum, but his gaze was unwavering, inviting, and mischievous.

“Okay, how about this,” he proposed with a cheeky grin. “One kiss, right here, right now. If we get caught, we’ll blame it on the ice, right?”

You chuckled, letting the moment bubble between you two. “You are incorrigible.”

“But you love it,” he beamed, his confidence unwavering.

Before you could answer, he closed the gap. Your lips met softly, and time seemed to stretch, the sound of the world around you fading into a blissful hush.

It was a simple yet electric exchange, and you could feel a thrill racing through you—not just from the kiss, but from the sweetness of the moment.

Just as you pulled away, your manager, Laura, called out, voice slightly panicked, “Is everything alright over there?”

“Perfectly fine!” Franco called back, his voice laced with laughter. The infectious nature of his grin transformed your previously solid focus into giggles as you beamed at each other, your hearts still racing.

You slowly got off Franco's lap, playfully nudging him. “Come on, we need to get back to practice before Laura comes over here.”

As you attempted to pull him up, he made a loud grunt in pain, his expression shifting instantly from playful to concerned. “Ow! Okay, maybe that was a bad idea.”

“Are you okay?” you asked, worry knitting your brows together as he rubbed his back where he'd fallen awkwardly.

He waved a hand dismissively, but you could see the wince in his eyes. “Just a little sore. You know how it is—ice can be a bit unforgiving.”

You knelt down beside him, your heart aching with concern. “Really, amor, that looked like a pretty nasty fall. You shouldn’t brush it off.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said, though the way he shifted his weight suggested it was bothering him more than he let on. “Besides, I’d take a hundred falls to save you.”

You felt warmth spread through your chest at his words. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, fighting back a smile. “You’re not supposed to heroically throw yourself down for me.”

“Maybe I just wanted to showcase my dedication,” he replied with a teasing wink that was all Franco.

He had a tendency to turn serious moments into playful banter, and although part of you was grateful for the levity, another part found it hard to let go of the worry gnawing at you.

“Okay Mr. Dedicated, how about you let me help you up?” you offered with a hint of determination.

“Alright, but only if you promise to take me for hot chocolate afterward,” he retorted, his eyes sparkling with mischief once again.

“Deal!” You reached out your hands, and he grasped them, allowing you to pull him up. Yet, the moment he stood, he grimaced and swayed slightly, the bravado giving way to discomfort.

“Whoa! Steady there!” you laughed, though there was a hint of concern in your laughter.

“I’m good,” he insisted, his voice a mix of confidence and challenge, but you weren’t convinced.

“Franco, you—”

“Seriously, it’s just a bruise; I promise. Let’s keep skating!” He tried to brush off your apprehension, but you could see the effort was taking its toll.

The bright red of his cheeks was testament to both the cold and the strain, and his laughter felt a little too forced to be entirely genuine.

“Okay, but no stunts for a while, alright?” you retorted, crossing your arms playfully but firmly.

The worry you felt for him was overshadowed by your desire to keep the fun spirit alive.

“Only for you, amor,” he winked, and your heart fluttered.

It was moments like these that made you realise how much you adored him—the way he could light up a moment with a single glance, a cheeky joke, or unexpected charm.

Franco completed a few more cautious circles around the rink, but soon enough his bravado waned, and you noticed him retreating to the edge.

You didn’t let him out of your sight, instinctively knowing when he reached that tipping point.

“So how did it feel Franco?” your manager, Laura, asked as you two emerged from the rink shortly afterward, Franco’s eyes glazed with a mix of excitement and fatigue.

“It felt great other than falling,” he joked, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck.

You shot him a look, a careful mix of adoration and concern. “Can you check to see if he hurt his back?” you asked the paramedics who were on standby, a routine precaution for first-time skaters.

“Amor, I’m fine—” Franco started, but you interjected.

“I’ll know when you’re fine after you get checked,” you stated, lifting your chin defiantly. There was no arguing with you when you were in protective mode.

He sighed, clearly recognising that he wasn’t going to win this one. “Alright then,” he relented, following the paramedics to a quieter corner of the rink.

You hastily removed your skates, glancing back at him occasionally to ensure he was managing.

Inside, a knot of anxiety twisted in your stomach. Nothing mattered more than his wellbeing, but the thought of him being hurt, even just a little, made you feel restless as you trailed after him.

The paramedic studied his back and neck, then carefully lifted the fabric of his shirt to examine the bruising forming there. “You’ve got a herniated disc—it’s when a spinal disc bulges out of shape and irritates a nerve.”

The words landed heavily in the air between you.

For a moment, silence surrounded you as you tried to process the implications. Your heart squeezed in your chest, and you instinctively squeezed Franco’s hand, seeking comfort in the shared warmth.

“Will he recover before his race?” you asked the paramedic, your voice softer than you intended, each word wrapped in concern.

The medic looked up from his notes, his demeanor serious.

“It depends on the severity. Usually, with rest and physical therapy, he can manage a recovery in a few weeks, but we’ll need to monitor the healing closely.”

Franco smiled at you, trying to downplay your concern. “See? Just a couple of weeks, amor. I’ll bounce back!”

“You’d better,” you teased, though your heart wasn’t quite in it.

“Alright, I promise to be more careful,” he said, his sarcasm masking the determination in his voice.

As both of you left the rink together, a new resolve defined your relationship. It was about more than just skating; it was about navigating life’s challenges together.

You wanted Franco to be bold and adventurous, but only within reason.

Days turned into weeks, and you watched as Franco adhered to the medic’s advice, resting as directed while attending physical therapy sessions.

You were by his side each step of the way, from his first hesitant visits to the therapist to his high-paced workouts designed to regain both strength and flexibility.

“You’re going to be okay,” you whispered one evening, as you braided his hair, the two of you sprawled out on the couch watching old films, a stark contrast to the usual frantic energy of your lives.

“Yeah, but I probably should've done just one lap instead of forcing my way into stunts,” he said, laughing lightly. “Now, I’m stuck watching romcoms when all I want to do is skate beside you.”

It warmed your heart to see him smile, even if it was partly strained. “True, but sometimes you need to listen, especially if it’s for your health.”

“Fair enough. And you’re going to be the best skating partner,” he said, leaning closer as his gaze softened. “When I’m back on the ice, I bet I’ll surprise you.”

“You better,” you responded, unable to hide your grin. “Just don’t try to do a backflip until you’ve fully healed. Save the stunts for when you’re ready.”

“Deal,” he chuckled, and the moment swelled with an intimacy that settled into both of you.

As you journeyed through this chapter of life together, the skating rink remained a cornerstone of your relationship.

Franco’s determination fueled your own desires to push limits and explore new heights as partners, both on and off the ice. . . .

Franco Colapinto had just secured a commendable fifth place in today’s race, a result that was met with cheers from his team and fans alike. As he walked towards the media tent, his sweat-soaked face beamed with the remnants of adrenaline.

The rhythm of the crowd faded into a blur as he approached the series of microphones lined up before him, the heavily decorated backdrop emblazoned with the race sponsor's logo looming behind.

"Franco Colapinto! Great race today, fifth place! How are you feeling?" an interviewer asked, holding a microphone towards him, eager for a juicy soundbite.

Franco wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, still catching his breath from the intense competition. “Oh yeah, the car’s pretty solid. Oh, and the halo too, it didn’t move luckily unlike last time,” he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

His last race had been rocky, with his car’s protective halo unexpectedly shifting during a maneuver and causing a momentary panic.

The interviewer, somewhat surprised by the casual mention of such a potentially dangerous situation, continued, “That’s reassuring to hear! You drove impressively today. But you look like you have somewhere else you want to be at.”

There was a note of curiosity in the interviewer’s voice, wading into the waters of personal matters.

Franco paused, the cacophony of reporters and cameras fading momentarily. The corners of his mouth curled up into a genuine smile for the first time since his race.

“Mi Amor is ice skating today, and I want to surprise her before her event ends, so can we be quick?” His voice was light and playful, revealing a side rarely seen behind the steely demeanor of a racer.

The interviewer blinked, momentarily taken aback by his honesty. “Umm, sure! That’s quite sweet of you. How long have you two been together?”

“Just 2 years,” Franco replied, his expression softening as he spoke about his girlfriend. “But it feels like forever. She pushes me to be better, both on and off the track. I never want to miss her performances.”

“Sounds like she’s your biggest supporter!” the interviewer remarked, correctly sensing the warmth in his eyes. “What’s her name?”

“Y/N,” he replied, a touch of pride in his voice. “She’s an amazing skater—blades of ice are her world. I’ve seen her practice, and honestly, it's another level of artistry.”

As he spoke, his excitement was palpable; racing was his profession, but you were his passion outside of those roaring engines.

The interviewer nodded thoughtfully, scribbling notes. “And I bet she’s just as thrilled that you’re here. How does she feel about your racing career?”

“She loves it. She's come to a few races already.” Franco chuckled. “Though sometimes I think she’s more excited about the cars than I am! But she gets nervous, too, which makes me feel protective. I always remind her—I'm not just racing for me, I’m racing for both of us. Every time I step on that grid, I’m thinking of her cheering in the stands.”

“That's really beautiful,” the interviewer commented, glancing at his notes. He could sense the depth of Franco's feelings. “So, what’s next for you after this race?”

“Next, I need to ask her what she thinks about my performance,” Franco said, grinning. “And if I can, I’ll take her out for something nice—dinner, maybe. I owe her that much after all the support she gives me. Winning is great, but knowing that she's proud means the world.”

Before the interviewer could ask his next question, Franco glanced at the clock on the wall of the media tent, concern flickering in his eyes. “You know what? I really need to go now. Thank you for understanding. I hope you enjoy the rest of the day.”

He quickly added, “And maybe next time I’ll bring her along. You can interview both of us!”

The interviewer couldn’t help but smile as he pushed the microphone aside. “Great idea! And best of luck to Y/N in her competition!”

With that, Franco waved as he dashed out of the tent, his mind already spinning with plans of getting to the rink before you finished.

Franco wandered through the bustling media tent, a vibrant bouquet of red and yellow flowers clutched tightly in his hand. The scent of fresh blooms mingled with the more sterile aroma of cameras and microphones, creating an unexpected comfort in the chaotic atmosphere.

His recent achievement—a remarkable fifth place in the race—had almost everyone buzzing, but it was the bright flowers that captured the curiosity of the media around him.

"Franco! Over here!" called a voice from the throng of reporters. A tall man with a press badge darted in front of him, preventing his escape. Franco smiled and adjusted his grip on the flowers, determined to enjoy the moment.

"How does it feel to finish fifth?" the reporter continued, his camera poised for the perfect shot.

Franco grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "It feels incredible! I worked so hard for this, and to see it all pay off is just amazing. I was a bit nervous coming into the race, but it turned out to be a day I’ll never forget."

Another reporter chimed in, "What’s the secret behind your performance today?"

Franco chuckled softly. "It’s all about the team. We train together every day, and their support keeps me motivated. We strategised a lot, and I owe it all to them and my race engineer."

As he continued to navigate through the questions—about strategy, training, and future goals—he noticed a hint of impatience creeping into the expressions of the press.

They were all eyeing the bouquet. Finally, one bold journalist broke through the chatter.

"What’s with the flowers, Franco? Are they a good luck charm, or do they signify something else?"

He couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden focus on the bouquet. “There’s a story behind these!” he said, his face lighting up. "They're for mi amor! I’m going to surprise her after her event today!"

A wave of collective 'aww' erupted from the reporters. He could almost hear the clattering of pens and the clicking of cameras as they captured the moment.

Franco straightened, proud to share a piece of his heart. . . .

The rink glimmered under the bright lights, the cool air buzzing with excitement and nerves as skaters and spectators alike took their places. Your heart raced in sync with the music hauntingly echoing through the arena.

You couldn’t believe you were standing here, only moments away from your final performance in the national skating competition. Just years ago, you had been a bundle of nerves—a small-town girl with a bigger dream—and now, somehow, you’d made it to this coveted spot, a finalist among the best.

“Okay, you’ve got this,” you whispered to yourself, lacing up your skates in front of the mirror.

You could barely focus on your reflection; all you could think about was Franco. You knew he was racing right now, but just before you left for the rink, he’d given you one of his heart-stirring pep talks.

“You’re going to be amazing,” he’d said, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Just remember, it doesn’t matter what place you get. I’m proud of you, whether it’s first, second, or third. Just skate your heart out.”

“Yeah, but I really want to win,” you had replied, stuffing your nerves down.

“Then win for both of us,” he urged, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “And no matter what happens in that rink, I’m going to be cheering for you. I promise to pull victory with me if I can!”

His laughter had grounded you, a buoyant wave as he left for his own race. You smiled at the memory, imagining his infectious grin that always made your heart flutter.

The announcer’s voice broke through your reverie. “Next up, we have Miss. Y/N L/N!”

A hush fell over the crowd as you stood up, your heart pounding in rhythm with the applause. You took a deep breath, your lungs filling with chilled air, and began your approach to the rink.

The adrenaline surged as you stepped onto the ice, the coolness beneath your skates sending a thrill coursing through you. You could hear the murmurs of anticipation from the audience, feel their eyes glued to you as you settled into position.

“Come on, Y/N! You can do this!” you mumbled quietly to yourself, your focus sharpening.

You saw Franco's face in your mind, his encouraging spirit radiating from across the space like a bright star in a dark sky.

The music started, enveloping you in its melody like a warm hug. You took your first glide across the ice, letting the rhythm pull you along. Each movement felt fluid, like an instinct you wasn’t fully conscious of.

You leaped and spun, the world swirling around you as you poured every ounce of passion into each motion.

You could almost sense the presence of Franco in the crowd, his unwavering support fueling your performance.

As you completed an intricate sequence of jumps, you caught a glimpse of the other skaters.

Jenna and Mia—both had been formidable competitors throughout the season, but you felt an unexpected surge of confidence.

Your training, your determination, and Franco’s belief in you surged to the forefront of your mind.

“Remember, don’t just skate; perform!” you thought, pulling energy from the atmosphere, feeling the strength in your legs as you executed a difficult spin transition.

The gasps from the audience fueled your resolve, spurring you on for the final jump—the one you had practiced countless times in the mirror and in front of Franco.

And then, you soared.

Time seemed to stretch, and for an instant, you felt weightless, like you could touch the stars themselves. You landed perfectly, a feeling of liberation sweeping through your body as the music reached its triumphant crescendo.

The auditorium erupted into cheers, the sound both deafening and euphoric. You took a final bow, your heart full. There you were, this girl from a small town who had dared to dream.

The chill of the ice rink clung to your skin, the sharp sound of your skates slicing through the frosty surface still ringing in your ears. As you glided off the ice, your heart swelled with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.

The performance had felt electrifying, a mosaic of leaps and spins that you had spent countless hours perfecting.

“Y/N! That was incredible!” Lauren exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement as she rushed over to you.

“Thanks, Lauren! I just… I feel like I finally nailed the double axel!” you grinned, trying to suppress the bubbling thrill of the moment. “I thought my heart was going to stop when I was in the air!”

Zara, your team captain, approached you with a proud smile, her arms crossed in front of her. “You did it, Y/N. You’ve worked so hard for this, and it showed out there. Not to mention that spin at the end—absolutely flawless!”

The warmth of her praise enveloped you as the remaining members of the team joined in, all clapping and congratulating you.

“Alright, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Zara said, looking at you with her serious yet caring eyes. “Let’s wait for the results before we throw a party, okay?”

“True, very true,” you laughed, trying to contain my nerves. “But I’m hopeful!”

You all settled onto the benches lining the rink to wait for the scores to be announced. You fiddled with the cuffs of your skating dress, glancing back at the empty rink where your performance had just taken place, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Minutes felt like hours as the announcer’s authoritative voice cut through the chatter. “And now, we have the first results for the Women’s Singles finals competition. Y/N L/N has been given her first score of 89.95!”

A loud cheer erupted from the audience, accompanied by the resounding applause of your team. You could hardly believe it; your dreams felt within reach, each note of admiration from the crowd pouring warmth into your heart.

“Oh my God, Y/N! That’s amazing!” Lauren jumped up, a look of pure joy on her face.

“Yes! You crushed it!” Zara added, hugging you tightly. “This is just the first result though!”

You felt slightly dazed. “I can’t believe it!” you managed to say, your voice trembling. “I did it! It’s all happening!”

It was like being on stage as the spotlight focused solely on you, and you felt every ounce of love emanating from your team, pushing you to embrace this moment.

This was the highest you've ever scored for one result and it was highly impossible for someone else to replicate the same as you.

The atmosphere in the arena was electric. Vibrant lights flickered above as Mia, your fiercest competitor, prepared to take the stage.

The crowd buzzed with anticipation after your impressive high score on the dance challenge. You watched from the sidelines, your heart racing, and a mix of pride and anxiety surged through you.

“You’ve got this, Mia!” someone shouted from the audience, her friends cheering her on.

You appreciated their encouragement, even though you desperately wanted to maintain your spot at the top of the leaderboard.

As she stepped onto the stage with her usual flair, you leaned back in your chair, waiting to witness what she had in store. The music pulsed through the arena, a heavy bass that resonated within you.

Mia’s dance style was captivating, fluid yet sharp, and she quickly drew everyone’s attention. You couldn’t help but admire her talent, even if it was your score she was trying to beat.

Just as you were lost in her movements, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you were greeted by Lauren, your manager.

“Hey, awesome performance today!” she greeted you with a bright smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Thanks, Lauren! I just hope I can hold onto my score,” you replied, the concern evident in your voice.

Lauren’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “It looks like your boyfriend is also doing good too,” she said teasingly, holding up her tablet to show you the race currently unfolding on the screen.

Your heart fluttered. You took the tablet from her hands and focused on the live feed of Franco, your boyfriend, who was battling fiercely in a Formula 1 race.

You squinted at the screen, watching as he maneuvered through sharp turns, his car a blur in the midst of the chaos.

“No way!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over. “He’s in sixth! And look at him go against Lewis Hamilton!”

“Yeah, it’s insane! Look at how close they are!” Lauren pointed out, clearly as captivated by the race as you were. Franco’s car swerved to the right, narrowly missing a competitor as he attempted to overtake Hamilton.

You cheered, barely able to sit still. “Come on, Franco! You can do it,”

The crowd’s cheers for Mia faded into the background as your focus sharpened on the race. Each moment was an adrenaline rush as Franco pushed for fifth place, expertly navigating the track.

You glanced at Mia, who had just finished her performance, but you were hardly aware of whether she had topped your score. Your heart felt tethered to Franco's every move.

“I can’t believe how intense this is,” Lauren remarked, her eyes glued to the tablet. “He’s really giving Hamilton a run for his money,”

“He always does,” you grinned proudly, unable to hide the swell of admiration for Franco.

Memories of his early morning practices and late nights working on his skills flooded your mind. He lived for racing, and you knew he had the talent and determination to make it.

As you watched, Franco made a daring maneuver, slipping past another driver while inching dangerously close to Hamilton. “Come on, come on,” you whispered, practically bouncing in your seat.

“There he goes!” Lauren shouted, her excitement matching yours. Your heartbeat quickened as Franco, with a burst of speed, eased alongside Hamilton’s car.

In an instant, the traffic from the cars ahead created an opening, and Franco seized his opportunity. “Yes!”

“He did it!” you hollered, clenching your fist in victory.

Franco zoomed past Hamilton, securing the fifth position.

“That’s my boyfriend!” you exclaimed, your voice ringing with pride.

The crisp air inside the ice rink was filled with the sharp sound of skates slicing through the ice, intermingling with the echoes of the audience’s excitement.

You stood near the edge of the rink, your heart racing as you watched Mia walk off the ice. Her graceful movements and flawless execution had captivated everyone, but the scoreboard had revealed a different story.

Despite her efforts, she had fallen just short of your high score.

"Great job, Mia!" you called out, forcing a smile and clapping politely as she skated off, a mix of disappointment and pride etched on her face.

"Thanks!" she replied, breathless. "Just not good enough. But I’m proud of my performance."

You knew how hard she had worked. Hours spent practicing, each routine polished to perfection. But in this competition, there were no guarantees, especially with Jenna gearing up next.

Jenna had always been a formidable opponent, her talent almost inhumanly immense.

You turned your attention back to the rink as Jenna took her place. The crowd hushed, eyes fixated on her. You couldn’t help but feel a mix of admiration and trepidation.

As the music began, Jenna took off, her body flowing effortlessly to the melody. You watched in awe, marveling at her flexibility and rhythm. Each twirl, each leap took your breath away.

But then it happened. Jenna attempted a triple axel, the crowd holding its breath in anticipation. As she launched into the jump, time seemed to slow. You felt your heart in your throat. And just like that, she fell—hard.

Silence blanketed the rink, the world around you fading as you watched her scramble back to her feet, determination painted across her face.

She finished her routine, but everyone—judges and spectators alike—knew the score would suffer.

“Ugh, that’s going to hurt her,” Lauren muttered beside you, shaking her head sadly.

You nodded, feeling a pang of empathy for Jenna. It was a cruel twist of fate.

Moments later, the scores flashed on the screen, and you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw your name at the top of the list. First place.

The cheers erupted around you, but your thoughts went to the second dance round, the deciding performance of the national competition.

“I’m so proud of you!” Lauren squealed, pulling you into a tight hug. “You’ve worked so hard for this, and you did it.”

“Thanks. But it’s not over yet,” you said, swallowing hard. “I still have the last dance, and I’m really nervous.”

“Just breathe. You’ve got this,” Zara encouraged, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Remember, just be yourself out there.”

But how could you ignore the rising anxiety gnawing at your stomach? You watched the clock tick down as Jenna walked off, looking crushed.

The rink was alive with bright lights and the soft hum of anticipation, a magical venue for a competition you had worked tirelessly for. The cold air bit at your skin, but the chill did nothing to dampen the warmth flooding your heart.

Dressed in a shimmering costume that sparkled like the stars above, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself on the ice.

It was time for the final dance, the moment that could decide your fate in this championship.

As you glided towards center ice, your mind flickered away to Franco. You could almost hear the roar of the crowd at the Formula 1 Grand Prix track, the high-pitched whine of lionhearted machines, and the scent of burning rubber in your nostrils.

He was out there right now, racing his hardest; you could imagine him, resolute behind the wheel of his sleek car, forcing every ounce of energy into each sharp turn.

He had always made it seem so effortless, the way he commanded the racetrack—and today, you wanted to emulate that fierce passion.

You took your position, heart racing in time with the beat of the music. The lights dimmed, and in that hushed moment, you could picture Franco's smile, the way it brightened his face when he spoke of racing.

“Do it for you,” he would say, his hands animated as he gestured roughly, “Every race is a part of you. Just feel it.”

As the music began to swell, cascading harmonies floating into the air, you closed your eyes briefly and thought of his encouraging words.

The melody wrapped around you like a gentle embrace, and when you opened your eyes, it felt as though the world had narrowed to just you and this ice rink, a blank canvas for your passion.

You eased into the first few movement sequences, every swish of your skates a declaration of your determination. The world fell away; there was only the pounding rhythm of the music, echoing in your chest, and the cold serenity of gliding on ice.

But then, as the choreography unfolded, you felt the raw energy of your emotions surging. It was intoxicating and terrifying, amplifying the rush.

Each leap and twirl brought back memories of Franco, seamlessly intertwining his influence into the elegance of your routine. As you spun, the echoes of his laughter and playful teasing reverberated through your mind.

You recalled the night he had surprised you after a practice, whisking you away to an alpine cabin just outside the bustling city.

“I know you’ll win,” he had said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close as you stared out at the snow-covered trees. “Just remember—every time you dance on that ice, you’re racing against yourself.”

Those words spurred you forward now, transforming challenges into opportunities. With each line and curve of your performance, you felt your spirit soaring. You wanted to make Franco proud.

Then, as you reached a soaring climax in your routine, you stumbled—it was a slight miscalculation, an error that rippled through you like a thunderclap.

Panic gripped you for a moment, and for a second, you nearly let it consume you. But all you could think of was Franco, cheering for you from afar, just as he had when you practiced late into the night, insisting that you embrace the falls as much as the victories.

“Just keep pushing! It’s in you!” His voice echoed again in your mind, imbued with unwavering faith in your strength.

You kicked into a powerful leap, determined to regain momentum, and landed it smoothly. The final notes were washing over you like a warm wave, urging you onwards.

With renewed focus, you finished your piece with a burst of extravagance that set the audience on fire—an eruption of applause greeted you, and you greeted it with a radiant smile.

Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you skated to the edge of the rink, where you raised your hands in exhilaration. The joy surged through you like a whirlwind of color.

And as the crowd's cheers faded into a distant hum, the only sound you wanted to hear was the familiar timbre of Franco’s voice celebrating your talent and ferocity.

You stood at the edge of the rink, your skates still laced, your heart pounding in your chest. Just moments before, the announcement had been made.

“And now, we have the results for the Women’s Singles finals competition. Y/N L/N has been given her total score of 168.46!”

Your score hung in the air like a gossamer thread, oscillating between pride and anxiety.

Flashes of the routine you’d executed just minutes ago danced in your mind—perfect pirouettes, soaring jumps, and the way the music had whispered secrets to your soul.

But now, all of that felt like a distant memory as you focused on the rink and your competitor, Mia, gliding towards the center.

Mia had always been your fiercest rival, a skater gifted with an infectious smile that could charm anyone watching. Still, on the ice, she was a lioness—a woman who left nothing to chance.

You could see the determination etched on her face as she prepared for her final performance. With a powerful thrust, she began her routine, her arms slicing through the air like a dancer born for this moment.

You turned to Lauren, who was leaning against the railing, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “She’s going for the triple axel,” you muttered, anxiety lacing your voice.

“She has to,” Karen replied, her eyes never leaving the rink. “Your score is very high to beat.”

As Mia took her first leap, your heart skipped a beat. The smoothness and grace with which she spun in the air was nothing short of breathtaking—the crowd holding their collective breath.

Just below you, Jenna paced back and forth, her nerves palpable. She’d stumbled during her first attempt but was determined to reclaim her moment on the ice.

You turned your attention back to Mia, who was finishing her routine with a confident flourish. As she struck the final pose, the crowd erupted into applause.

You swallowed hard, the reality hitting you again. She was so close to your score—if she performed well, she could easily surpass it. All of a sudden, the pressure felt immense.

Your heart pounded, and you could feel sweat collecting under your collar. You had poured everything into that routine; now, it was out of your hands.

“Mia’s going to take it,” you said, nervously biting her lip. “I know it.”

“No,” Lauren said impulsively. “She’s good, but so are you. You’ve worked hard! You’ve got this.”

The announcer's voice cut through your thoughts. “Jenna Davis is next. Let’s see how she embraces the challenge.”

Jenna took a deep breath, centering herself as she stepped onto the rink. The atmosphere changed dramatically; the crowd's energy was palpable, buzzing with nervous optimism.

As Jenna began to skate, you could hear the soft notes of her music drifting through the air. She started strong, executing her initial moves with poise.

The chorus swelled, urging her on, and she embraced it. The crowd was on edge, and so were you.

Her eyes flickered toward you as she flowed through her routine, visibly gaining confidence with each passing turn. Then it happened. With a powerful jump, Jenna attempted to land her double axel.

Time seemed to slow. The moment she landed perfectly, the crowd erupted into cheers, and you felt the warmth of hope blossom in your chest.

Jenna finished with an elegant twirl and a final pose, tears glistening as she skated over to you, glowing with triumph.

The announcer’s voice echoed again, “And Jenna Davis has redeemed herself, scoring a fantastic 152.03!”

Mia was still there, poised and ready for her scores. The moment felt surreal as the lights dimmed slightly and the focus centered on her.

“Mia’s going to be tough to beat,” Lauren said, shaking her head a little, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. “She always rises to the challenge.”

“Let’s just wait,” you said, trying to find that calm center again. But deep inside, you felt the tension thrum beneath your skin. It was a competition, and you wanted nothing more than to win.

You could already sense the warmth from the audience roll toward Mia as the announcer spoke her name.

As the results were announced, your heart raced. “Mia... 167.97! A solid score, but not enough to beat Y/N!”

You gasped, feeling a wildfire of disbelief. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. The arena was suddenly a cacophony of cheers, and the warmth from the audience rolled toward you like an overwhelming tide.

A surge of adrenaline pumped through you. You jumped up and down, throwing your arms around Zara, who was nearly as ecstatic as you were.

“I can’t believe it! You did it! You really did it!” Zara laughed, her voice carrying over the noise, pure joy radiating off her. “You’re the national champion!”

You couldn’t even find the words to respond. Instead, you nodded vigorously, a bright smile stretching across your face as you felt the joy erupt within you.

You allowed the feeling to wash over you because this victory wasn’t just about the medal or the title; it was a culmination of everything you had worked for, every late-night practice, every injury you pushed through, all of it leading to this moment.

And then, the announcer’s voice broke the stillness in the air again. “Y/N... 168.46! A remarkable display of skill, and our 2025 National Champion!”

Joy explodes within you, bursting forth like a pent-up dam. You instinctively clutch your chest, feeling the tremor of disbelief mixed with elation.

Your eyes glaze over, and before you know it, tears begin to spill down your cheeks, tracing paths of exhilaration. You’ve made it.

All those years of grueling practice, early mornings, and late nights have culminated in this very moment.

“Y/N! Oh my gosh, you did it!” Lauren, your manager, bursts forth, her arms wide open.

You barely take a second to wipe the tears before she envelops you in a tight hug, her warmth a welcome anchor in the whirlwind of emotions you’re feeling.

“Thank you, Lauren! I couldn’t have done it without you!” you manage to say, your voice muffled against her shoulder.

“Of course, but let’s be real, that was all you! You were phenomenal out there!” she exclaims, stepping back to look you in the eye. There’s a twinkle of pride in her gaze that makes your heart swell even more.

You take a deep breath, glancing around at your team, all gathered with wide smiles and glittering eyes. Their enthusiasm fuels your own, and you laugh, feeling the thrill of triumph wash over you like a warm wave.

“I couldn’t have done it without each of you. Every practice, every pep talk… it all counts,” you say, making eye contact with each team member.

With a grin, you turn your focus towards your competitors, Mia and Jenny, both of whom had pushed you to the limit this season. Their expressions are a mixture of admiration and disappointment, but you know all too well how they feel.

“Hey, great job out there,” you say, skating over to them, your skates gliding effortlessly on the ice. “You both made me really work for it.”

Mia smiles faintly, her confidence unbroken. “You were incredible. I can’t believe how close it was. Next time, I’ll bring my A-game for sure.”

“Definitely! We can’t let you have all the glory,” Jenny adds, her laughter brightening the tense atmosphere.

The three of you share a moment of camaraderie, which dissolves any lingering tension from the competition.

You breathe deeply, inhaling the fragrance of ice and adrenaline, your thoughts drifting to the next steps.

As you approached the podium, you caught sight of your family in the crowd, their faces beaming with pride. You waved at them, half-laughing and almost crying from the surge of emotions.

The announcer’s voice boomed across the rink, breaking your trance. “In second place, it is Mia Johnson!”

Mia jumped up onto the podium, her expression a mix of disbelief and joy. “At least I’m on the podium!” she called out, her laughter ringing in your ears.

“And in third place, we have Jenna Taylor!” The announcement sparked another round of applause, and as Jenna took her place, you readied yourself.

The excitement was palpable, but you felt a familiar flutter of nerves. You had to go up next, and this was the moment you’d been waiting for.

The host stepped forward, and all eyes shifted to you, a wave of silence falling over the crowd like snowflakes drifting to the ground.

“And in first place, it is Y/N L/N!”

You could hardly contain yourself as you leaped onto the podium, arms outstretched and a broad grin plastered on your face.

Cheers erupted like an explosion, and the applause felt like a physical blanket wrapped around you, warming your heart even amidst the chill of the rink.

As the medal was draped around your neck and the camera flashed, a sense of pride swelled within you. This wasn’t just an achievement; it was the culmination of years of hard work, determination, and a thousand early mornings driven by your passion for the ice.

After the ceremony concluded, you made your way outside of the rink—still buzzing from the final adrenaline of the performance, the applause ringing in your ears like a joyful chorus.

You needed to breathe, to process everything, but before you could step too far into your thoughts, a familiar voice called out to you.

You also needed to know how Franco finished in his race. It was a shame that he couldn't be here right now to celebrate but you know he was probably suffering in his media duties.

You had made it; your journey as a skater had culminated in this triumphant moment of glory.

You stood in the middle of your team, your heart swelling with pride. Cameras flashed as everyone posed with the medals, capturing the moment for posterity.

Each smile, each laugh, each joyful expression created a beautiful cacophony of success. It felt surreal, almost dreamlike.

Just as you were about to step away for a candid candid shot, Lauren, your manager, stepped into your line of sight, a mischievous sparkle in her eye.

“Hey, turn around for me!” she exclaimed, her voice cut through the celebratory noise with authority.

You narrowed your eyes, momentarily confused but eager to comply. “What for?” you asked, glancing back at her with a teasing pout, but her gaze was insistent, her gesture animated.

You turned, spinning on your skates, a smile still on your lips from the excitement.

And then, time felt like it froze. Standing there, just a few feet away, was Franco, your boyfriend. He was holding an enormous bouquet of flowers that dwarfed him, its vibrant hues almost electric against the acidic blue of the rink.

The bouquet was a kaleidoscope of colors, mostly filled with your favorites: soft lavender orchids, deep blue hydrangeas, and delicate red roses, the very ones you’d mentioned to him months ago as a blush crept into your cheeks.

“Congratulations, amor! I told you I would make it!” he exclaimed, his grin wider than the expanse of ice before you.

Franco stood out not only because of the grand bouquet he was wielding, but his passion seemed to ignite the air, drawing every eye towards him.

Your heart raced—a joyful shock and a wave of warmth coursed through you. “Franco!” You gasped, your hands instinctively running through your hair as you ran toward him, leaving behind the jubilant crowd.

You felt like a child on Christmas morning, caught off-guard by an unexpected gift.

Wrapping your arms around him, you buried your face in the fragrant blooms, inhaling deeply as if the scent alone could capture this moment eternally.

Franco chuckled, the sound rumbling softly in his chest. “You’re amazing! I knew you’d take home the gold!”

Pulling back to take him in, you brushed tiny remnants of ice from your hair and gazed deeply into his warm brown eyes. “I can’t believe you came. I thought you were going to be in media duties all day!”

He waved a dismissive hand, “I made them hurry up. I couldn't miss this. Not for anything,” he insisted, his gaze steady and earnest as he held the bouquet out to you.

“These are just a small token of my love. You deserve more than I can ever give you.”

“You're the best!” you breathed, still overwhelmed. As you took the bouquet from him, your fingers brushed against his, sending a ripple of electricity through your body.

You caught the attention of your teammates who were now grouped around, playful envy written across their faces.

“Can you even top that?” one of them teased, nudging your shoulder with an exaggerated wink.

Franco flashed an innocent grin, pulling you closer into his side, his warmth wrapping around you. “Oh, I can think of a few ways,” he fired back playfully, and laughter erupted around you.

“Once the cameras leave, I want a private celebration—just you and me,” you whispered, tilting your head up toward him, your playful tone hiding a genuine yearning.

“Absolutely,” he replied, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “But first, I think you owe me a victory dance on the ice.”

You narrowed your eyes, feigning indignation. “A victory dance? What do you think this is, some cheesy movie?”

“Cheesy? Nah, it’s romantic!” he insisted, a teasing grin playing at the corners of his mouth. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head.

With a dramatic flair, Franco led you back toward the center of the rink, the bouquet clutched in your hand like a trophy of your own victory.

As the laughter of your teammates faded into the background, the two of you spun around, gliding across the ice, arms raised high for a moment of carefree abandonment.

“Okay, okay!” you shouted, breathless from the joy of it all. The icy ground beneath your skates felt less like a challenge and more like an expanse of possibility. “But first, you need to wow me with your skating skills!”

Franco narrowed his eyes dramatically, taking a moment before he pulled off a series of impressive spins and moves that left you clapping enthusiastically.

“Ta-da!” he announced with a flourish, bowing comically as he stumbled slightly on the last move.

“You’re unbelievable,” you chuckled, more enamored than ever. “Why did I ever doubt you?”

He skated over to you easily, the applause still ringing in his ears. The twinkle in his eyes spoke volumes, and the delight on his face made your heart swell.

“You wouldn't believe how many lessons I took to just do that, amor,” he said, his breath coming out in little puffs against the chilly air.

“You took lessons?” you whispered, placing a hand on his cheek, your thumb grazing the stubble there. The warmth of his skin contrasted with the icy surroundings, making you feel a spark inside.

“I knew you were going to win, so I had to learn for you,” Franco muttered, placing a hand on your waist and drawing you close.

Laughter filtered through the air again as you lightly patted his cheek. “Cut it out. You’re going to make me blush!”

“I can’t help it,” he grinned. “You’re radiant, especially in this moment. Just look at you, the National Champion. You deserve the world!”

You felt the heat in your cheeks intensify. “Okay, okay! But you helped me reach it!” You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before continuing, “Besides, I wouldn’t want anyone else standing here with me.”

“Then don’t,” he whispered, stepping closer, his hand finding a home on the small of your back, drawing you into him.

You could feel the world fade away, the cheers and the noise rolling into the background. The ice felt solid beneath your feet, grounding you as you lost yourself in his gaze. “Franco, I—”

But before you could finish, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, a hesitant dance of two souls intertwining, before passion ignited it into something deeper, something that sent fireworks dancing in your chest.

When he pulled away, breathless, you couldn’t help but mirror his smile.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he confessed, running a nervous hand through his hair. “But I didn’t want to distract you before the competition.”

“Distract me? Not at all! I needed a distraction from all the pressure!” you teased lightly, still lost in the lingering warmth of his lips against yours.

Franco chuckled, drawing you closer still, your bodies almost fitting perfectly against one another. “Well, hopefully that distraction was a winning one,” he replied playfully.

“Definitely! Maybe I should have put it in my training! ‘Ice skating: 25% skill, 75% kissing my boyfriend.’”

He erupted into laughter, eyes twinkling with delight. “I’d be honored to provide the kisses,” he said, his voice a low rumble that enveloped you, making you feel warm in a way you had never quite experienced before. . . .

[kiestrokes]

Day 20: heatwaves | NSFW

▸ Idol: Kim Hongjoong of ATEEZ ▸ Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. ▸ Genre: active WIP, smut, monster fucking, DUBCON, demon/apocalyptic AU. ▸ Vibe: this came from a casual conversation with @minttangerines and @minisugakoobies over the summer about the extreme heat. Luce said that she "expected to see demons playing in the grass" and my brain ran with it. The Earth's core is cooling, demons are like reptiles in a way, they need extreme heat to survive. Heat that now can only be found on the Earth's surface. Until that too is gone, or the anti-demon humans annihilate their entire race. This is a much later excerpt. ▸ Warnings: language, pet names I think, demons, green striped crop top HJ.

Sexually Explicit Content: MONSTERFUCKING, HJ is a demon, DUBCON. DNI IF THESE THEMES/KINKS ICK YOU OUT, cross species curiosity, kissing, oral (male receiving), sexual intercourse (penis in vagina), multiple positions, orgasms (multiple for both), biting, marking, overstimulation, lust haze, aftercare.

🗝️ Note: Has not beta-ed by me or anyone else. THIS IS A WIP! (it is being posted for my wipmas.) It is not complete; this is very much a rough outline/first run through. Left notes in again.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

「 25 Hours: Hard, Soft and WIP-mas Masterlist 」

Hongjoong was nestled into your side like he had been for the last couple of months, absorbing any heat he could leech from you with his already scorching body. Wearing the same crop top as the first time you had met him. Slim waist and curve of his hips taunting you. 

“Do I have something on me?”

“What? No.”

His hand skims his stomach brushing the shirt further up his ribcage, exposing just the slightest peak of the swells of his chest. 

“Can you lay on me? My stomachs cold”

“You could pull your shirt down,”

He pouts at you, and you sigh, complying. Snuggling into his waist, pressing your cheek to his stomach. Nuzzling around to get comfortable. He threads a hand into your hair, fingers singeing your scalp with a happy sigh. You press a kiss to his navel, and he stiffens. 

“Sorry...”

“You just caught me off guard.”

His hand trails to your lips, fingers stroking. 

“Your mouth is cool.”

“Is yours?”

“Why don’t you come check.”

You lift your face to see his staring mischievously down at you. 

“Joong,” you breathe eyes dropping to his lips

“Only if you want.” 

You roll your cheek against his abdomen laying another kiss, heat flaming your face at the soft gasp he makes, fueling your pursuit. You trail his belly button with your tongue and he groans, stiffening underneath you, his hand returning to fist your hair.

You kiss your way up his stomach, rising up on your knees to straddle him. The noises he’s making as your leave marks in your wake knock any previous apprehensions out the window. Shoving his shirt up to expose his chest, lips locking onto a nipple.

Causing Hongjoong to buck his hips up into your with a broken moan. Your tongue swirls around the nub and he shudders into the bed beneath you. His hands in your hair trying to tug your face to his, you let him and his mouth is hot, so warm that it makes you moan into his mouth when your tongues press together.

“Hongjoong-” you rasp, trailing kisses across his jaw before you let him seal your lips again. 

He’s devouring you, as if this is the only thing he’s wanted to do for months. You pull away to gasp for air, sitting in his lap and realizing that he’s hard as he pants, pupils gleaning red from the contact. 

You stare down at the small demon, your marks littering his body. You reach out and squeeze the pectoral you didn’t get to give attention to and his eyes close at the contact. You trace your hands down his waist, over the curve of his hips to rest on the band of his jeans. 

You swallow as you undo them, your mouth already salivating at the thought of his dick. 

His pretty fingers capture your wrist, “you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” 

“Ok” he sighs raggedly.

You unzip the jeans and slip a hand inside just to palm him, Hongjoongs hips jerk at the contact and you give him a small squeeze. 

“You’re hot here too.”

He nods, lips parted. You retrieve your hand and hook your fingers into the band of his pants to pull them down. You nearly moan as he lifts his hips toward you to help, a movement as small as that shouldn’t have such an affect on you.

The jeans hit the floor with a thud and Hongjoong tugs his shirt off before pulling your face back to his for another kiss. You reach down to stroke his hips and thighs before cupping him again. Causing him to gasp and thrust into your hand, you lips disconnecting. You take this opportunity to latch onto his other nipple teeth squeezing before rubbing your tongue against the peak as your hand slips beneath his boxers, stroking him bare. Hongjoong let’s out whine and you jump as wetness greets your thumb you pop off his nipple in surprise. 

“Do you have semen?”

Hongjoongs flushed face nods and you’re slipping down to remove his boxers so quickly neither of you have time to think before he’s completely nude beneath you. Dick beautiful, curved and leaking against his stomach. 

“Fuck,” you hiss before lowering yourself to lick the bit off his stomach, your tongue brushing to tip.

Hongjoong jerks, crying out at the contact. You appease him by sucking the tip into your mouth. 

“Ahhh!”

His hand cups the back of your neck as you stand his cock up to slide him into the back of your throat.

“Oh fuck please,” Hongjoongs frantic gaze meets yours and you hum around him before sliding up and down his shaft. 

You swirl your tongue around the tip and slide back down as he watches you. Body stiff underneath your touch, growing hotter. 

More head details. 

Until he’s resisting the urge to thrust upwards into your mouth. You pull off to stroke him and he knocks your hands away after a few pumps.

“I need you.” 

You nod and let him roll you onto your back, fingers slipping into the side of your panties to dive into your hole. You arch into him, already embarrassingly dripping.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong growls behind clenched teeth.

He slips them off and moans as you open yourself to him, his cock swollen and dripping at this point. He bites his bottom lip as he fists himself. 

“I just need to feel you.” 

You nod again, and he’s slanting up your body, tugging your hips down to thrust inside. The two of you gasp out at the impact and he burrows his face into your neck with a slow rock of his hips. His erection searing your canal. 

“Hongjoong.”

“I’ll stop in a minute.”

“Don’t stop,” you shudder as he deepens his thrusts.

He lifts his face to meet your lidded gaze.

“Yea?” His eyes glint, as he angles his thrusts up into the front of your pelvis you cry out in pleasure. “How good do I feel?”

“So good.”

You whimper as he strokes hard into that one spot, your body already tightening on itself. 

“Fuck so do you,” his hips stutter and he realigns. “I’m not gonna last” 

“It’s ok, I’m not either.” 

His lips are on yours again and you’re panting into each others mouths as he speeds up.

“Holy shit,” you bury your nails in his shoulders, causing him to hiss into your neck in pleasure. “Deeper Joong.”

He complies with a moan and your head tips back at the stroke, baring your throat to his lips. 

“I need to-“ and then he’s biting your neck and you’re coming around him hard.

So suddenly you can’t hold back your sounds of pleasure and his muffled moans echo yours. As his tongue laps at your neck sucking a spot against the column of your throat. His hips jerk sharply as he spills into you, warmth spreading across in the inside of your pelvis.

"Ahh-hngh-Joong!"

Hongjoong keeps pumping until your legs drop from his sides in exhaustion. He pulls back to look at you, pelvis rocking slowly into yours as you shudder through the aftershocks.

“You feel so good. Just let me,” his eyes close and a groan leaves his lips as he picks up speed again, “one more.”

And he does, you watch almost out of body as he pumps you to another orgasm. You can feel his hot release spilling around his swollen cock as he keeps working your tight hole.

“Hongjoong!” You a gasp, fingers twisting in the sheets as you gush around him.

“I can’t stop,” he pants his jerking erratically.

You’re pushed into another orgasm and Hongjoong right along with you. Red glint in his eye strong as his release forms a creamy ring around his cock being pushed out by your seizing insides. 

“Joong-” you groan.

He pins your arms above your head pumping into you, “it's been so long, I forgot how good this feels.”

Hongjoong's mouth is on yours then, tongue sliding against yours as your hips tiredly rock into his, sweat pooling between your breasts that he trails his mouth down to lick before his teeth nip across to a nipple. 

“Shit!,” you hiss. 

He releases your hands to hitch a leg up, wicked smile spreading across the sensitive skin of his breast. You cry out as he strokes that one spot tirelessly, groaning around your breast as you tighten around him. Rubbing deeper until you’re convulsing again helplessly.

“Joong, I can’t-I can’t!” 

“One more,” he moans rolling you partially on your side slapping into you. 

As it builds again you roll onto your stomach and Joong moans at the way you submit yourself underneath him, lifting your hips to slam into the hilt. 

“Fuck, I’m spilling out of you,” he strokes his release seeping out around your entrance and you groan. 

“We-" you stop as a shudder rolls through you, “-need to stop.”

Hongjoong splays a hand between your breasts pulling you back against him. Slowing his hips but deepening the stroke. You cry out at the sensation. Hongjoong watches over your shoulder. Tongue teasing this top teeth. 

“Why stop when it feels so good?”

He pulls your lips to his, both of you panting into each others mouths more than kissing.

“It’s too much,” you clutch his thigh as another orgasm threatens to roll over you. 

“Is it?”

Hongjoong groans squeezing your hip as his dick swells at the tip, spearing open your swollen, sensitive insides as he fights off spilling into you too soon.

“Ye-sss” you stutter, legs tightening and he groans, both of your hips jerking, heads tossing back and you come together. 

“One more,” he hisses and pins you down by the back of your neck.

Fighting with your swollen insides for entry, even with the overly slick glide of your multiple releases.

“Joong,” you gasp, turning your cheek against the dampened sheets.

“You look so good right now, and you’re so fucking warm.”

Hongjoong's lidded, red hazed gaze meets yours and you know you’ve unlocked a door neither of you will be able to close. His small but toned chest flushed an angry red, as his shockingly strong hips steadily chasing yours. You cry out in pleasure at the sight of him. Cunt fluttering. He groans, hips rubbing into you flush against your ass.

“You can come harder than that, let me feel you!”

Hongjoong gets what he wants, his words extending your heavily building climax you rut back against him and are greeted with a surprised gasp from him so you do it again. Lewd sounds filling the room until he’s bowed over you hammering in. 

“Ahh I’m close-” he whines bucking into you hard.

The friction directly over that one spot as your body tightens on itself. Hongjoong groans, rubbing harder as you thrust back. 

“Not yet!”

Your vision clouds as your chase your new high. His hands bruise into your hips, his body stiffening behind you. Breathing raggedly and he fights his release.

“Hoongjoong,” you whimper, hips jerking shakily against his hands.

He guides you along and you wail at the feeling, clutching his cock.

Hongjoong growls slamming into you, “right there.”

Then it is there. Falling over the ledge just as Hongjoong spills one final time into you before shakily stilling. He falls away from you muttering a flurry of "I’m sorry" as you collapse on your side. 

“It’s ok, it's ok, that was just...intense”

He’s out of the bed in the bathroom running water and then he’s back “I can’t walk”

He looks alarmed “what?”

“Just give me a minute.”

He does and the helps you into the tub, beginning to clean you intimately until you catch his wrist and he meets your eyes. The lust gone from his, but resurfacing in yours at his touch. You watch his Adams apple bob as he swallows.

“I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure? You won’t drown if I leave you?”

You laugh, “you can get in with me.”

He shakes his head no “you look-“ he swallows hard and then looks away.

You understand he’s controlling himself. He leaves to take a cold shower. You find him shivering after you’re clothed and cuddle up on the couch to recover. 

© COPYRIGHT 2021 - 2024 by kiestrokes  All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

[quirekey]

Hi Quire! I have a fun request for you to try out.

May I request HCs of [TFP] Bumblebee, Smokescreen, and Knock Out (separately) reacting to their Cybertronian![S/O] [Gender Neutral] [Romantic] who used to be a pop idol back on Cybertron before the war?

[Prompt]: Somehow, ‘Bee, Smokes and K.O. obtained some lost information relating to their Sparkmate and it explains they used to be a famous idol back in Iacon. [S/O] would be so embarrassed about their former life before the war, then explain about changing their fame and name so no other bot can find out, until now. They rather win a war than please an audience.

Ooo!! Thanks for the fun request, this looked really cool!! Tysm for the cleanliness of the request also.

(I did change some parts of the request to make it more.. openly different between the 3)

[ BUMBLEBEE, SMOKESCREEN, KNOCKOUT ] x [ GN!READER ]

[ bumblebee / smokescreen / knockout x cybertronian!gn!idol!reader ]

TRANSFORMERS PRIME HEADCANONS:

BUMBLEBEE

- Bumblebee finds out you're a famous idol after he was talking to you for Primus knows how long. While you were trying to train to keep your gorgeous frame in shape, he asked a question that stirred towards the fact that you used to be an idol. You slipped due to your dismissive behaviour, you were just trying to train.

“So like, do you like singing? You seem to do quite a bit of it alone, if that’s what I’ve been hearing!”

“Yeah, sure. I sing quite a bit.”

“What, are you a singer or something? That would be awesome!”

“Yeah yeah, I am. What about it?”

- When Bumblebee finds out you were a famous idol, he goes ballistic, positively. He’s so hyped that he is talking to an idol that many Cybertronians know. Hell, he’s dating his idol!

- He is hyped and starts asking even more questions, wanting to know every detail. Him with his curious mind does ask you some private questions, you obviously avoid them. Bumblebee is just a little too excited to realise he is being invasive.

- Bumblebee realises he used to go to all of your concerts and was one of your biggest fans. You changed most of your appearance to seem more structured and your voice deepened, you were a whole different bot. Bumblebee is starstruck about what even happened.

- He asks you quite a bit on why you changed. Your usual answer is ‘Our victory in war is far more important than the entertainment of others.’. Bumblebee doesn’t understand because who wouldn’t want fame, but he does get it after some extra context.

- You tell him to keep it between the both of you and he complies. He does really want to talk about it to the other autobots but he doesn’t wanna upset you.

- Bumblebee definitely sings along with you if he finds you singing. Though it’s just buzzing and beeps, it’s cute. You just keep singing as he makes a replicated melody.

- Bumblebee would spend cycles trying to find remaining music videos, live concert recordings or photos of you when you were an idol. It wasn’t because he was weird but merely just curious and excited.

SMOKESCREEN

- Smokescreen was just having a small chat with you in the main base, having done their to-do list and everybody else was on field. He then remembers a certain idol that he used to look up to, he described them as a ‘compassionate star who never gave up, no matter what others did to them’. You knew it was you when he repeated the line that you said before every concert. Smokescreen only realises you were that idol when he starts describing their personality. Though he’s distraught, you confess and reassure him that it’s you that was that idol.

- Smokescreen was definitely surprised, you have changed a lot since then. Though he is curious on why you have changed, he also respects your decision if you wanted to part from your past. Because of this, he never asks any question that is considered ‘invasive’, even to a mild or surface level.

- Smokescreen thinks this is the coolest thing about you. He’s so happy that he has met you, but not because of your status. Smokescreen was happy because you were such a talented bot and he’s able to be there to support you in your new journey. He’s glad you chose to fight and not sing, he thinks it was the right choice, especially in the situation the autobots were in currently

- Yes, Smokescreen is glad you chose this path, but also wants you to still engage in your hobbies. He does hear you sing when you're alone and he understands that you do miss your past, when you were carefree and passionate for something you actually wanted to do. Smokescreen would encourage you to sing, trying to sing himself to lift your spirits. Let’s just say he isn’t the best, but he’s trying.

- You didn’t even need to tell him to keep it a secret. He understood that you weren’t too fond of the others knowing about your past, so he just kept it between the two of you. He’s proud of you no matter what.

KNOCKOUT

- Knockout finds out by research and images that were stuffed deep in Cybertronian history, blocked out by the recent war. He was just doing his research for a task he was given and after some deep searching, he found a video of an idol that was famous throughout all of Cybertron. It was a video of a bot who seemingly spoke a lot like you. They had a similar posture, engaging aura and a charismatic voice that matched you.

- At first, he thought it was just a coincidence. Why would somebot who was all about the passion in life join the Decepticons? It wouldn’t exactly make any sense to him, so he shrugged it off.

- The video was on his mind for quite a while so he decided to ask. No point in keeping it in. He asked you a few indirect questions, trying to bait you into being honest incase if you were embarrassed or disappointed in your past. Lucky for him, your oblivious self fell for it.

- When Knockout does connect the dots and finds out you used to be an idol, he makes fun out of it. He did think it was embarrassing at first, but also realised that you were extremely talented at singing. He did give you credit for being able to deal with such fans too, that can be pretty hard.

- Knockout finds more lost media of you back then, singing, dancing and interacting with fans. He thinks it's mildly stupid but doesn’t say it out loud, seeing his sparkmate happy was more than enough, and he didn’t want to hurt your feelings even more.

- Knockout undeniably compares your change from then to now. He points out smaller details that you didn’t realise, like how your frame has been sharpened to be way more sharpened for battle or that your colours have barely dulled overtime. He compares your frame, personality, voice and your general self to your past self. When you do get insecure, he does stop. He’s merely just studying, but he thinks the changes you made still make you perfect. Hell, he thinks you're way better now than before.

Just wanna acknowledge how i found a gif with the 3 of them specifically, i feel powerful dude

[cognitiveoverload]

Basic human decency – 1/4 (platonic Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader)

summary: You're the surgeon who operated Hotch, and you're annoyed that he immediately starts working after waking up.

“I hoped you would be knocked out a little longer,” you say with a playful smile as you enter his room, stopping at the foot of his bed. He stops typing and raises an eyebrow in question, which makes you shake your head in disapprovement. “Dr. Young warned me that you’re a workaholic, but I didn’t think you would be working so soon after a surgery.”

Hotchner let out a sigh and put down the phone to focus on this conversation. “It’s important. I can’t just lie here and do nothing,” he replies.

Nodding, you put the chart on the bed next to his feet, then move a little closer to him. “Look, you need to rest. When you were brought in, things didn’t seem serious, so no one talked to you about this, but due to that complication, and after such a serious surgery, I’d rather see you taking it easy for now,” you explain with a kind smile.

All it takes is one look to know a lot about him. You heard that he’s working for the FBI, it’s clear that he’s a born leader, but that mixed with a stubborn attitude can be dangerous in hospitals. As a doctor, you give instructions to patients, expecting them to do as you say, but people like him often ignore these orders. If it was up to you, you would take away every device that can help him work, but you have no right to do that. 

The best you can do now is try to reason with him. Well, seeing the doubtful expression on his face, you’d probably have a better chance convincing a brick wall.

“I’m just making a few phone calls,” he tries with a smile.

“Work calls?” For a few moments, he watches you with a blank expression, but then it all changes and suddenly he looks like a kid who was caught doing something wrong. “You have a son, right?”

He nods in response. “Jack. He’s six,” he replies, sounding a little unsure. “Why?”

Your attention is drawn to the door where a nurse waves at you, so you quickly signal her that you’ll be there in a moment, then return your attention to the patient. “It’s the summer break, right? Why don’t you ask someone to bring him here? You would have the chance to spend more time with him, and you wouldn’t spend that time working. It’s a win-win to me,” you offer with a laugh.

There’s a strange gleam in his brown eyes as he considers your idea. While he thinks about this, you go to pick up his chart, then flash one last smile at him before telling him to rest and that you’ll be back soon. You even dare to jokingly threaten him that you would confiscate his phone, to which he replies with a silent nod of understanding. But there’s something under the surface, something that just doesn’t click into place, yet you can’t figure out what it could be. 

Shaking off this feeling, you leave the room and get lost in work again. After checking on a few patients, you have another small surgery, which manages to take your mind off this for now. In fact, the rest of your shift passes without thinking about the agent again, but then, about half an hour before you can finally leave, you find yourself at the nurses’ station across his room. You don’t notice it at first, only when Dr. Young stops next to you with a teasing grin on his face. 

When you ask him what it’s all about, he just shrugs and points at the room with his pen. “Well, well, well, young lady, you are officially a miracle worker. According to my sources he stopped working after you left,” he explains with a kind smile as he looks at you. 

You follow the pen and notice that Hotchner isn’t alone, there is a young boy sitting on the edge of his bed, while a few people are standing around it, deep in a conversation. Something tells you they’re his colleagues, partly because you can see one of them carrying a weapon, but they are all smiling and laughing, it’s surely not work-related. So he did listen to you. Good. That’s exactly what you wanted. 

“Let’s hope it stays this way until he’s discharged,” you note quietly, but while you want to say something else, the words don’t come out. Because through the window you can see him turn to you, as if he could sense you are standing there, watching him, and you could swear he flashes a thankful smile at you. And then you jump from the surprise, because Lisa, one of the nurses, holds up an envelope in front of your face. “What’s this?” 

She shrugs with a teasing smile, then bumps her shoulder into yours as she hands it to you. “Oh, just a message I was asked to give to you. And it came with that bouquet of flowers. No big deal,” she says happily. 

As you open it, you watch as she and Dr. Young leave your side, giving you space to read the card. It’s a gift from Hotchner, and he used this way to thank you for making him understand that he can allow himself to retreat and recover instead of jumping back into work, possibly stressing himself out because of it. That’s all. It’s just a short message, but it’s surely one of those small things that make your job a hundred times better. 

As you look back at him, you see him watching you again, so you raise the card and nod in his way, to which he responds with a smile. And this catches his colleagues' attention, because they all turn to you suddenly, which makes you flee the scene before they could find you to ask questions. Maybe it’s time to go home now. But first, you scribble a short thank you message on a piece of paper, and ask a nearby nurse to give it to him once he’s alone again. There are no questions, but you can see the knowing grin on his lips that make you roll your eyes. 

This isn’t flirting.

This is basic human decency.

[elvensorceress]

sunday snippet

I meant to have this fic done ages ago but it's now somehow three times as long as it was, I've rewritten it five times, and I'm still working on it 🫠 oh well. have a snippet from snickerdoodles.

@tizniz @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @kejfeblintz @smilingbuckley @sofa-king-lame @chaosandwolves @smilingbuckley @belasmalhotra @bekkachaos @blutterlie @sazanahashi @livinginsunnyhell @epicbuddieficrecs @sparklespiff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @dangerpronebuddie continued from Wednesday

Eddie tries again, but still sounds rough and hollowed out. “I don’t want to drag you down. Okay? You should move on and forget me and— and it’ll be better.”

Not so much for Eddie. He’s never let go of anything in his life. It’s all there hiding under the surface, stuffed in cages. But Buck should move on. Buck should survive him. 

Is this their only future? It feels like losing everything. Eddie is losing everything. He’s kidding himself if he thinks he hasn’t already lost Chris. What if Eddie doesn’t survive this time? What will happen to everyone he loves? Everyone who loves him?

Does anyone love him? Does he mean anything to anyone? Has he ever meant anything?

“Forget— I should forget you?” Buck snaps, his anger un-contained fire now, not just a hint of smoldering kindling. Vicious, spitting, sparking, living flames that will turn everything to ashes. 

Maybe they should actually fight and say awful things and then it would be easier to walk away. 

Eddie’s not sure he could even manage that right now. There’s nothing left in him. No fight, no fire. It’s all shattered, scattered pieces. But he would try. If Buck needs that. 

He might need that. He snaps again, “Like you’re a pair of socks that disappeared in the laundry? Or something I meant to pick up at the store and spaced? Like it’s easy? Like you’re nothing? Like this? Us? You and me? Means nothing?”

Okay, when he puts it that way… it sounds dumb. But how else can Eddie stop hurting him? “No,” Eddie says. Not fiery, not loud, not anything. “No. Just. Something that doesn’t—”

“You're my best friend. You— you’re— I’ll let you go. Okay. Whatever. I’ll do that because I know you and I know you need Chris and I get it. I wouldn’t want you to do anything but love him exactly the way you do. But I won’t, will not and can not pretend that you aren’t my best friend and my partner and the person I love more than anything. All right? I’m not going to do that. I’ve spend years—literal— almost a whole decade of years loving you more than anything. I’m not going to just forget that or forget you. I’m not throwing that way. I’m not ever going to lie and say otherwise. This is not a ‘move on and grow out of it’ scenario. I love you more than anything in the world. Okay? You told me I wasn’t expendable and I had to deal with that so you have to deal with this. You mean everything to me and I love you, and that isn’t going to change even when you leave.”

“—hurt you,” Eddie finishes. It doesn’t really sound finished now. He says it because he was already saying it. 

But that the fuck does he say now? 

Eddie doesn’t usually think of himself as small, quiet, or fragile. But he feels like that now. His feeble words sound like it even in his own ears. Small. Inconsequential. Torn apart.

Buck steps back toward him. Not enough that they’re touching, but enough that they’re closer. “Hurt me. Drag me down. I don’t care.”

Eddie recoils. No. No, he hates that idea. He is not doing that. Not intentionally. Not. What the fuck. 

He knows he said the words. He said them because his mother said them and they stuck and haven’t left his head or his heart and it’s all he does. Ruin people he loves. 

Buck shakes his head. “Be in the way. Burden me. Share whatever weight you’re carrying. Be something that stays even if you’re not here. Be part of my life even if it hurts. I don’t care if it hurts, I need you to be something to me. Having nothing of you would be a hundred, thousand, million times worse. I am in this with you. I always have been. Don’t shut me out just to spare me. If you’re facing the fire, I want to be right there with you. Please don’t make me lose everything of you. Please don’t— please. Don’t pretend this is nothing. I can take you leaving, I can’t take this,” he motions between them, “meaning nothing.”

Eddie stares and doesn’t move. And stares harder like it will help him understand. 

He knows he’s breathing still because there’s air. 

Maybe he’s not breathing. But something is making air flow in and out of his body. Like rescue breaths? Supplemental oxygen? It’s not Eddie doing it, he’s not taking in air, but it happens anyway. 

He doesn’t understand. Maybe he never has. Maybe his brain stopped processing information when he stopped breathing because the brain can’t function without oxygen. Something like that. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t. 

Buck wants something of him even after everything? After all the people who have walked out on him and treated him like he doesn’t matter? Even with how Eddie fails and hurts people who care about him? He means something to Buck? Even though he’s hurting him and abandoning him and losing him? Eddie’s just another person who leaves him. He can’t hurt Buck. He can’t keep doing it. Buck doesn’t deserve this. And Eddie deserves no loyalty, no forgiveness. 

He doesn’t deserve anyone’s love. Not in any form. He shouldn’t have it. He’s never had it. 

“I don’t—” Eddie tries to say. He has to say. He has to make the words come out. “I don’t want to hurt you the way Abby hurt you. I don’t want to do that.” 

Buck shakes his head again and starts to say something.

Eddie beats him to it. “I know it’s not the same. I know I’m not— I know you don’t— It’s different. Still. I know how she hurt you, and I don’t want to do that. I don’t know how to not do that. I’m leaving you here. In my house. Just like she did when she left you. And I have to—” Do the same fucking thing? Give him up? Walk away? Destroy everything they made together? And maybe the only way to survive is to do what Eddie does best and ruin everything? 

He looks back at Buck and doesn’t mean to say it. He wasn’t going to say anything. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. He should be mean and nasty and he should tell Buck he means nothing, this means nothing, and then Buck can just be justifiably angry and hate Eddie properly. 

And it would spare him. Whatever pain and tragedy that is associated with being near Eddie. It would spare Buck. 

That’s what he should do. 

That would be mercy and kindness. Pick up the weapon and blow this all to hell. 

Eddie can’t breathe. He can’t do this. Any of it. 

He can’t let go. He can’t lose Buck. 

And then he’s suddenly confessing, “I don’t want to do this."

It’s too late. It’s always too late. And what he actually wants has never mattered. He doesn’t matter. He never has. He twists his hands together and has nothing else to hold onto. It’s too late, so none of this matters. Eddie doesn’t matter. But he meets Buck’s lost gaze, stares into his eyes for three seconds, and he can’t keep it in.

“I want to be with Chris. I miss him so much. Every minute of every day. But I don't want to leave here. I don't want this. But it doesn't matter what I want. It never has. The one time I said, 'What about me? Why didn't you think of me?' Chris left. He left because I hurt him. And my dad says, ‘don’t wait thirty years to listen to your son.’ So I listen. I don’t know what the hell else to do. I listen, and I do what all of them ask. Even when it’s the last thing I want and I’ve already said, no, please stop, I need more time, please hear me. They don’t listen to me. I’m still nothing to every single one of them. And I just keep thinking why don’t I ever count? Why don’t I matter even a little bit?

"You think you aren't everything to me, too? Do you think that I don't love you just as much as you love me? But I don’t get to pick you. I don’t get to have anything of you. I hurt everyone I try to love including you and Chris. I’m not enough for anyone, in any way. I can’t love anyone the way they need or the way I’m supposed to. You say you’re defective parts, well I’m fucking broken.

"That’s why you should forget me. I don’t matter. You shouldn’t care. I should mean nothing because I am nothing. I’m not worth this. If I were a better, stronger person, I’d make you hate me. But I can’t even do that. I don’t want to hurt you more. I have to lose you and I don’t know how to lose you. I love you more than anything and it’s not enough. I don’t know what else to do but say, you should move on and forget me.”

Eddie turns away and covers his face, tries to hold his head because it’s aching. It’s too much. That was too much. He’s not supposed to be falling apart. Everything is supposed to be getting better. 

Shards of ice crack and fracture and break underneath him. Everything in the cage around his ribs snaps and he’s crying into his hands, trying to keep it together. Trying and failing. Always failing. His face is already wet. He was already broken. A long time ago. So many times. 

Buck is suddenly behind him. Not distant. Close behind him. He touches Eddie’s back gently and then steps around until he’s standing in front of him. He reaches between them and rests his hand on Eddie’s chest. As if he can stop the never-ending bleeding that’s somehow always pouring from Eddie’s heart. “You are enough, Eddie. You’re more than enough."

[nemesyaaa]

kxksiwskkkiwss'zkwkzkskskskidizz oh my fucking god ??? angelita ??? are you fucking serious ?? like do you want me to shot myself right now ?? this was so fucking delicious, brilliant, perfect and hot like wtf. i died a a lot while readin this. i love the fact they're all sharing different kinks. and lmfaooo it's freaky kinky times. this was so good to read, so fucking yummy. i dont have words because you took them away with your creative mind but also all the smut you write for it. foaming at the mouth currently because i'm nothing but a dog right now 😙 you just give me what i needed

IM JUST SHARING SOME BC....NEED TO REACT A LITTLE

🔝🔝🔝🔝🔝🔝🔝🔝🔝🔝🔝🔝🔝

cnc: these two have a meeting and go over all of their fantasies. while bambi’s suggestions are more tame, rafe is going all out, suggesting that he kidnaps her, holds her at gun/knife point, along with making another safe word just for the sole purpose of dismissing it. he’s covering bambi’s mouth while she’s screaming for him to get off of her, fucking her with so much force that her body scoots up on whatever surface rafe has her on. she’s pushing away, or trying to at least, and rafe is just so much stronger than her that he doesn’t budge. “look at you, so pathetic and weak..” rafe would laugh at her, making her cry as she helplessly took his cock. — CNC ??? ARE YOU KIDDING ME ???🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️‼️

rope play: no one can convince me that rafe wasn’t a boy scout when he was little. he’s very knowledgeable of different knots and ties and made it a point to start experimenting with you, tying you up in grotesque positions purely for his enjoyment. even tying your arms behind your back in intricate weaves was enough to get him going. he’d take full advantage of you in your restraints, fucking you past overstimulation, the mixture of pleasure and pain making you cry out in both agony and bliss. your fingers would gradually grow numb, along with the rest of your body until rafe untied you, indents from the rope adorning your flesh. — ELABORE ON SCOUT BOY RAFE ??? BUT I TOTALLT AGREE. YOU'RE FUCKING RIGHT AND I NEED MORE ON THE ROPE PLAY + BONDAGE

asphyxiation: this was first done on accident when rafe was fucking your throat and smothering your face at the same time. seeing the way you gasped for air after he pulled you off of his cock was nothing short of gratifying. but seeing the way you were eager to do it again was even better. from that point forward he would do anything and everything to cut off your intake of air. covering your nose when you sucked him off, choking you during sex until you were on the verge of blacking out, pinning you down by your neck so your windpipe was being crushed. of course he educated both you and himself, and took your little taps of surrender very seriously. — SOMEONE TAKE ME BACK TO LIFE 😙😙😙

predator/prey: the thrill of the hunt and the chase was like no other. whether rafe was chasing bambi in tanneyhill or outside at night time, the promise of getting to do whatever he wanted to her if he captured her was all the encouragement he needed. she’d be hiding, goosebumps spreading across her skin once she couldn’t see rafe anymore. little did she know, he was already creeping up from behind her, a rough hand clamping over her mouth before she could scream. rafe is grunting threats in her ear while she thrashes against him, telling her that she’s powerless and fighting against him is useless. of course, once he has her held down, she’s completely at his mercy. — I WAS SO SURE ABOUT THAT

language: hearing you speak in your mother tongue is going to do it for rafe every single time. whether you’re cursing at him or grabbing him through his pants, whispering; “lo quiero, papi— i want it, daddy..” his cock springs up at the sound of your voice. you’ve taught him enough spanish for him to reply to certain things, your favorite phrase of his being, “mírame, muñeca— look at me, doll.” when you’re shying away from the intensity of his gaze. rafe loved hearing all the words falling from your lips, especially when a particular thrust of his hips made your voice crack at the end of your sentences. “keep talking to me, hermosa— beautiful, i need to hear you.” — FUCKING PERFECT 🥹🥹🥹💖

dacryphilia: rafe does things to purposely make sheep cry. pinching her clit, fucking her so hard that his tip is nudging her cervix with every thrust, grabbing her cheeks and squeezing them together with a bruising grip, he loves seeing those sparkly eyes watering with tears. if he has you on your knees, he won’t stop fucking your throat until you have tears running down your neck and chest. rafe thinks sheep looks prettiest when she’s an utter mess, tear-stained cheeks and swollen lips are his favorite look on her. even when she’s crying and upset about something, he can’t help but guide her hand to his aching length, promising her that she’ll feel better once she makes him cum. — MY FAVS. 10/10. ‼️👄

impact play: if you and rafe weren’t hitting and shoving each other into his room when you wanted to jump each other’s bones then you weren’t doing it right. slamming you against the wall while he was inside of you, slapping him across the face when he did something a little too hard, it was all apart of your little dance together and you two fucking lived for it. rafe loved that he didn’t have to be so soft and gentle with you, and even more so when he found someone who finally didn’t treat him like he was made of glass and used the same force against him. the roughness and complete disregard for one another’s feelings in those very moments was addicting to say the least. — I'M NOT OKAY, I'M NOT OKAY

choking: while rafe loves to choke you in order for you to keep your sassy remarks to yourself, he nearly loses it when you take charge and wrap your hand around the column of his throat instead. he loves the push and pull of your shared dynamic. when he has you pinned down by your neck, it’s useless to deem it a punishment since you always end up liking the pain more than the pleasure. rafe can’t help but curse to himself at the sight of the smirk adorning your lips when he’s cutting off your airway. “no way you’re loving this shit right now..” both of your voices are hoarse once you’re done with each other, the sound making you two look at each other smugly. — XKKDKZ READER CHOKING RAFE ?????????? 🤤🤤🤤🤤✨

face fucking: once rafe got started on this, it was never-ending. he’d have you on your knees wherever you two were at, forcing you to keep your hands behind your back as he used your throat like a cock sleeve. he’s pulling at the roots of your hair with a strangled groan, the sound of his length sliding in and out from between your lips making his eyes roll to the back of his head. it’s messy and sticky, your cheeks full of tears as spit and precum dribble down your chin, your jaw aching for a break. “fuck, just look at you.. ‘bet you don’t have shit to bitch about now, do you?” still managing to roll your eyes at him, rafe chuckles to himself before picking up his pace. — YES. YES YES

lingerie: this was only fitting considering you were a whole designer with your own lingerie brand. rafe hadn’t really developed his kink for fucking you in your lingerie until you started surprising him, the lace and sometimes satin material looking just gorgeous against your skin. besides the obvious fact that you looked stunning in your sets, he thinks the reason why he appreciated it a lot more is because he knows you thought about him when choosing which one to wear. “do you like it?” was possibly the most dumbest question you could’ve ever asked him. of course, you got your answer when he pulled you on top of him, moving your panties over to the side before slamming you down onto his length. — I WAS SO SURE ABOUT THAT TOO 👁️👄👁️

cum play: rafe died and came back to life when he watched you smear his cum over your lips the first time you took his length into your mouth. and then he died again on a separate occasion when he came on your tits, your pretty manicured fingers swirling his seed over your sensitive buds. now every time he finished, if it wasn’t inside of you, he watched with a bated breath as you tasted him before pulling him down into a kiss. your tongues clashed, both of you moaning as you made out with his cum in your mouths. you shared spit, making a mess out of each other until you were begging him to cum again. “please, i want more, rafe..” — WKKDKZZ CUMSLUT SQUAD ‼️‼️‼️

size kink: cowboy!rafe is hugeee, and (un)fortunately for you, also hung like a fucking horse. his entire body envelopes yours when he’s on top of you, only half of his cock fitting inside of you before he’s forcing you to take the whole thing. feeling like his length and the sheer girth of him is splitting you open, you’re looking down at where you two are connected, your eyes wide as you see what looks like a belly bulge coming up from under your flesh. “ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” you’re delirious as the big, strong man above you drills into you at an unforgiving speed. his hand is large enough to wrap around the entirety of your neck, your chest caving in once you felt the band in your tummy snap. — where is my big boy 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ I NEED you

FUCKING MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ME <33 ILYSM

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ RAFE + THE !READER’S AND THEIR KINKS

warnings: dark content ahead! please do not read if you don’t feel comfortable with any of the kinks listed!

a/n: some of these might not be considered ‘kinks’ but instead things that both rafe and !reader may particularly enjoy. special thank you to @nemesyaaa for giving me this idea and always listening to my rambles <3333 consider this my christmas gift to you ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

wc: 5.0k

⭑.ᐟ bambi!reader

cnc: these two have a meeting and go over all of their fantasies. while bambi’s suggestions are more tame, rafe is going all out, suggesting that he kidnaps her, holds her at gun/knife point, along with making another safe word just for the sole purpose of dismissing it. he’s covering bambi’s mouth while she’s screaming for him to get off of her, fucking her with so much force that her body scoots up on whatever surface rafe has her on. she’s pushing away, or trying to at least, and rafe is just so much stronger than her that he doesn’t budge. “look at you, so pathetic and weak..” rafe would laugh at her, making her cry as she helplessly took his cock.

rope play: no one can convince me that rafe wasn’t a boy scout when he was little. he’s very knowledgeable of different knots and ties and made it a point to start experimenting with you, tying you up in grotesque positions purely for his enjoyment. even tying your arms behind your back in intricate weaves was enough to get him going. he’d take full advantage of you in your restraints, fucking you past overstimulation, the mixture of pleasure and pain making you cry out in both agony and bliss. your fingers would gradually grow numb, along with the rest of your body until rafe untied you, indents from the rope adorning your flesh.

outdoor sex: an innocent little picnic can quickly turn into rafe pushing your head into the grass while he fists your panties, dragging them down your thighs before bunching your dress up and slamming into you without warning. he can’t quite pin point when this became a ‘thing’ between you two, but fuck he knew you loved it. maybe it was because of the scenery or being far away from anyone being able to see or hear you two, but sex out in the middle of nowhere was thrilling for you both. bambi already spent a lot of her time outside, so whenever rafe would join her and do what he does best; making her cum around his cock, it was like her two favorite worlds collided.

asphyxiation: this was first done on accident when rafe was fucking your throat and smothering your face at the same time. seeing the way you gasped for air after he pulled you off of his cock was nothing short of gratifying. but seeing the way you were eager to do it again was even better. from that point forward he would do anything and everything to cut off your intake of air. covering your nose when you sucked him off, choking you during sex until you were on the verge of blacking out, pinning you down by your neck so your windpipe was being crushed. of course he educated both you and himself, and took your little taps of surrender very seriously.

predator/prey: the thrill of the hunt and the chase was like no other. whether rafe was chasing bambi in tanneyhill or outside at night time, the promise of getting to do whatever he wanted to her if he captured her was all the encouragement he needed. she’d be hiding, goosebumps spreading across her skin once she couldn’t see rafe anymore. little did she know, he was already creeping up from behind her, a rough hand clamping over her mouth before she could scream. rafe is grunting threats in her ear while she thrashes against him, telling her that she’s powerless and fighting against him is useless. of course, once he has her held down, she’s completely at his mercy.

⭑.ᐟ sheep!reader

slapping: whether rafe is slapping the swells of your tits, the fleshy globes of your ass, or your poor overstimulated clit, he loves seeing your body jolt at his touch. he especially likes slapping you in the face when he’s pounding into you, the small flash of hurt passing over your features shooting straight to his cock. he’s smiling while you’re flinching every time he picks his hand up, his large palm meeting your soft skin with a harsh smack! he knows you’re far too timid and shy to tell him to stop, small whimpers leaving your lips at the stinging sensation. once he’s done with you, your skin is raw and sensitive to the touch, rafe always making sure to soothe you and comfort you afterwards.

corruption: you were just a pretty, clueless virgin when he met you, and still pretty and clueless after he broke you in. rafe still see’s you as a saint even when he’s fingering you to tears, your tight walls spasming around his digits. he treats every time like it’s your first time all overs again, the idea of getting you addicted to his cock was enough to make him cum. he loved to see the confused, yet desperate plea in your eyes for him to turn you inside out. the fact that he’s the only one who has ever seen you unravel makes his chest fill with pride. to know that he’s the one who turned you into a cock-hungry slut to begin with does wonders for his ego.

dacryphilia: rafe does things to purposely make sheep cry. pinching her clit, fucking her so hard that his tip is nudging her cervix with every thrust, grabbing her cheeks and squeezing them together with a bruising grip, he loves seeing those sparkly eyes watering with tears. if he has you on your knees, he won’t stop fucking your throat until you have tears running down your neck and chest. rafe thinks sheep looks prettiest when she’s an utter mess, tear-stained cheeks and swollen lips are his favorite look on her. even when she’s crying and upset about something, he can’t help but guide her hand to his aching length, promising her that she’ll feel better once she makes him cum.

orgasm denial: the way that rafe keeps sheep needy and ready to fuck whenever he wants is by denying her orgasms. waiting until her eyes are rolling to the back of her head before pulling away and making her clench around nothing. “nononono, please, rafe! i need it!” she’s clinging onto him, trying to keep him near as much as she could before he’s swatting her hands away. “gotta keep you on your toes, ‘doll.” he’s rough when he holds her down, stroking himself until he’s painting her tummy with his seed. sexually frustrated and sad that he didn’t fill her up instead, she’s bending to his every will later on when he wants to go for round two.

overstimulation: if sheep isn’t getting denied an orgasm, she’s getting a load of them until she’s physically trying to run away from rafe. while he’s doing everything he can to keep her cumming, she’s convulsing, shaking and trembling, writhing in pain as rafe works her poor, sensitive bud. using his fingers, tongue and cock, he tells sheep to keep count and if she messes up then he has to start from zero again. sheep is brainless after the first three, her train of thought being completely gone as rafe fights with her to keep her thighs open. “no more, no more, no more..” she’s repeating it like a mantra, rafe ignoring her pleas for him to stop.

⭑.ᐟ latina!kook!reader

praise: rafe is having a hard time believing that his favorite latina is even letting him touch her, so he’s doing everything he can to remember this moment. he’s telling you how good your perfume smells, marveling at how soft your skin feels under his touch, admiring and staring at your body in awe as if to remember every curve and detail. you’re looking in his eyes while he raves about never seeing someone as beautiful as you. “you’re so fucking gorgeous, holy shit.” rafe is in disbelief when he finally gets you out of your clothes, his eyes instinctively blinking as he didn’t know what to take in first.. your angelic face, show-stopping tits, or glistening pussy.

language: hearing you speak in your mother tongue is going to do it for rafe every single time. whether you’re cursing at him or grabbing him through his pants, whispering; “lo quiero, papi— i want it, daddy..” his cock springs up at the sound of your voice. you’ve taught him enough spanish for him to reply to certain things, your favorite phrase of his being, “mírame, muñeca— look at me, doll.” when you’re shying away from the intensity of his gaze. rafe loved hearing all the words falling from your lips, especially when a particular thrust of his hips made your voice crack at the end of your sentences. “keep talking to me, hermosa— beautiful, i need to hear you.”

mirror sex: you didn’t have not one bad side. in rafe’s eyes you were absolutely flawless. after the first time you two had sex, he knew immediately that he needed to see you at every angle. getting a mirror installed on the ceiling right above his bed was the first step, then it was a mirrored headboard.. and then two full length mirrors that sat in the opposite corners of his room. the man was obsessed with watching you. if he had you in doggy, he could still get a full view of your face twisting in pleasure along with the bounce of your tits. on days where you wanted to ride him, he’d watch in awe as the globes of your ass met his thighs with a ripple effect adorning the fleshy skin.

body worship: similar to praise, rafe is whispering sweet nothings against your skin, his hands working to massage your calves as he presses kisses to your thighs. he’s holding onto you, eyes closed as he takes in your scent. “you’re so perfect.” rafe sounds like a broken record as he kisses your knuckles, and up your arm to the curve of your shoulder until he finally gets to your lips. his hands are roaming your body even as he’s inside of you, his soft touch a stark contrast to his hard thrusts. not a single inch of your body goes untouched by this man. he pays attention to every single thing, from the crown of your head down to the tips of your toes, he makes sure you feel like a goddess at all times.

tit fucking: having both your tits and your face in his line of vision is a surely a sight to behold. he’s delirious as you gaze up at him, the tip of his cock emerging from between your tits before meeting your tongue. despite you moving yourself up and down, rafe is thrusting from beneath you, the slick sound of his precum making both of you moan. “ah, fuck!” his hips are stuttering everytime you manage to wrap your lips around the tip, his cock twitching with need as you stroke him with ease. he loves seeing the way your lashes flutter up at him when he finishes across your chest, watching with lust-filled eyes as you swipe some of his seed with a manicured finger before popping the digit into your mouth with a smile.

⭑.ᐟ bitchy!kook!reader

choking: while rafe loves to choke you in order for you to keep your sassy remarks to yourself, he nearly loses it when you take charge and wrap your hand around the column of his throat instead. he loves the push and pull of your shared dynamic. when he has you pinned down by your neck, it’s useless to deem it a punishment since you always end up liking the pain more than the pleasure. rafe can’t help but curse to himself at the sight of the smirk adorning your lips when he’s cutting off your airway. “no way you’re loving this shit right now..” both of your voices are hoarse once you’re done with each other, the sound making you two look at each other smugly.

hate sex: you two mastered this before everything else. fucking when you were enemies and nothing more was like a fever dream, both of you fighting to use each other for no other reason besides getting off. you’d push rafe down, bouncing on his cock to keep him from having his way with you, only for him to have your face pressed into the pillows moments later. you two didn’t care if the other felt good or not, it was purely just your way of taking out all of the pent up anger and frustration you two had for eachother. you’d curse at him before he crashed his lips into yours, telling you to ‘shut the fuck up for once and just use your mouth for what it’s supposed to be.’ as he forced you down onto your knees.

impact play: if you and rafe weren’t hitting and shoving each other into his room when you wanted to jump each other’s bones then you weren’t doing it right. slamming you against the wall while he was inside of you, slapping him across the face when he did something a little too hard, it was all apart of your little dance together and you two fucking lived for it. rafe loved that he didn’t have to be so soft and gentle with you, and even more so when he found someone who finally didn’t treat him like he was made of glass and used the same force against him. the roughness and complete disregard for one another’s feelings in those very moments was addicting to say the least.

degradation: this was bitchy!kook!reader’s specialty. telling rafe how stupid and pathetic he is for spamming her phone with desperate texts, telling him he’s worthless and that the only thing he’s good for is being her boy toy. she’s bringing up the times when rafe was begging her to let him eat her out, calling him names and laughing in his face when he looks the slightest bit embarrassed. rafe isn’t letting up on you either, he’s cussing in your ear, calling you a bitch and a ‘spoiled fuckin’ brat’ as he folds you in half. both of you revel in the weight of your insults, the words only making both of you needy to prove the other wrong. ‘just shut your fucking mouth already..’

possessiveness: despite ‘hating’ each other, there’s nothing neither of you hated more than seeing each other in close proximity with someone else. rafe hated your friends, all of them always trying to introduce someone to you in hopes that they could get you to leave rafe alone once and for all. of course, later on that night when the party is over and the place is cleared, he’s pounding into you like he has something to prove. “you’re fuckin’ stupid if you thought i was gonna let you leave with that asshole.” he has you in a head lock, his toned stomach smacking the back of your ass as he choked you out with his bicep. “no one else could ever make you feel like this.”

⭑.ᐟ bitchy!pogue!reader

recording: she’s rafe’s personal pornstar without a doubt. bitchy!pogue!reader knows she looks amazing every second of the day, even when her mouth is full of cock, so when she see’s rafe pull out his camera, she’s really giving him a show. “you fuckin’ slut, i could make millions off of you..” rafe would say after she made him cum on her face and tits. rafe loved to keep documentation of bitchy!pogue!reader almost begging to tears for rafe to fuck her already, the footage coming in handy when she decides to wake up with an attitude and tells him that he’s lucky that you even let him fuck, let alone talk to you. he has the camera in your face the same night, grunting out “aww what’s wrong? ‘still think you’re too good for this cock now?”

rough sex: these two turn ‘rough sex’ into an umbrella term with all of the depraved shit that they do. smacking your skin until you’re bruised, scratching rafe until you draw blood, thrusting into you so hard that you let out a shriek with every stroke of his hips, and this isn’t including all of the choking, biting, and hair pulling that both of you do while you’re at it. rafe is ruthless in the bedroom, often leaving you bedridden by the time he’s done plowing into your poor, sensitive cunt. this was what regular sex was like between you two, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. it drove rafe crazy to know that you were so willing and just as sick and twisted as him to take his shit.

humiliation: this was a two way street for both you and rafe. he would say that he could never be seen with a stripper on his arm since he was sure the entire island had already been with you before, and you would say that you wouldn’t want to be seen with a pathetic loser with daddy issues and a drug problem to cope, anyways. both of you knew that the shit talking that you were doing was only foreplay for the activities you were going to do later. sure enough, he’s taking you in the country club bathroom, all of the grand parents there staring at your provocative outfit in disbelief. “please don’t make me moan loud..” you’d whimper, rafe wrapping a fist in your hair. “nah, you’re gonna let this whole club know that you’re nothing but an easy hooker.”

face fucking: once rafe got started on this, it was never-ending. he’d have you on your knees wherever you two were at, forcing you to keep your hands behind your back as he used your throat like a cock sleeve. he’s pulling at the roots of your hair with a strangled groan, the sound of his length sliding in and out from between your lips making his eyes roll to the back of his head. it’s messy and sticky, your cheeks full of tears as spit and precum dribble down your chin, your jaw aching for a break. “fuck, just look at you.. ‘bet you don’t have shit to bitch about now, do you?” still managing to roll your eyes at him, rafe chuckles to himself before picking up his pace.

dumbification: your walls are fluttering around rafe’s cock when he tells you things like; “you’re a dumb, stupid, slut who doesn’t know how to do anything except take dick.” and calling you a brainless bimbo with nothing but tits for brains. you’re nodding along to his words, not caring about how much he’s dumbing you down. in this very moment, with his hips slamming into yours, you were brainless.. not a single thought behind your fucked out gaze. “just prancing around in your heels like a clueless fuckin’ bunny, not knowing shit..” he’s delivering each word with a punctuated thrust, your back arching into his chest when you feel the rough pads of his fingers on your sensitive clit.

⭑.ᐟ kook!sweetheart!reader

sexting: boyyyy you two can sext for hours at a time. once the clock hits ten and your phone dings with a ‘you up, beautiful?’ from none other than rafe himself, you’re faking a yawn and telling your parents you’re gonna cut the movie short tonight because you’re so sleepy. as soon as you’re laid in your bed, your room door locked until further notice, you’re sending rafe all the pretty nudes you took for him since the last time you two sexted. rafe is fisting his cock as your pictures come in one by one, his bottom lip pulled haphazardly between his teeth to keep himself from moaning out loud. in return, rafe is also sending you pictures of himself. shirtless gym pics, his bulges when he wakes up thinking about you, and your personal favorite; his bare cock and the aftermath of stroking himself to your sexy photos.

lingerie: this was only fitting considering you were a whole designer with your own lingerie brand. rafe hadn’t really developed his kink for fucking you in your lingerie until you started surprising him, the lace and sometimes satin material looking just gorgeous against your skin. besides the obvious fact that you looked stunning in your sets, he thinks the reason why he appreciated it a lot more is because he knows you thought about him when choosing which one to wear. “do you like it?” was possibly the most dumbest question you could’ve ever asked him. of course, you got your answer when he pulled you on top of him, moving your panties over to the side before slamming you down onto his length.

cum play: rafe died and came back to life when he watched you smear his cum over your lips the first time you took his length into your mouth. and then he died again on a separate occasion when he came on your tits, your pretty manicured fingers swirling his seed over your sensitive buds. now every time he finished, if it wasn’t inside of you, he watched with a bated breath as you tasted him before pulling him down into a kiss. your tongues clashed, both of you moaning as you made out with his cum in your mouths. you shared spit, making a mess out of each other until you were begging him to cum again. “please, i want more, rafe..”

pussy eating: he needs it. he needs to have kook!sweetheart!reader’s thighs locked down to his shoulders while he works his skillful tongue on her pussy. she’s whimpering above him, wrapping her hands around his large fingers as he gently circles her clit. rafe is easily eating her out for an hour before another hour passes and she’s a mess. having orgasmed at least ten times, rafe is very controlled and knows how to bring her up before pushing her over the edge and letting her fall ever so graciously into another orgasm one after the other. the lower half of his face is soaked, and when he looks up at you from between your thighs, the sight of him is burned into your mind forever.

cockwarming: one of rafe’s favorites. whenever you and rafe are in the bliss of aftercare, he stays nestled inside of you, both of you kissing each other lazily while he rubbed soothing circles into your skin. “think you could keep still?” you teased, rafe laughing softly as you clenched around him, almost as if to provoke him to move. not even ten minutes later, you’re slowly circling your hips, desperate for any kind of friction while rafe holds you in place. “i knew you were gonna put out.” rafe groaned, moving gently as he rolled over on top of you. ignoring him, you dug your heels into his lower back, prompting him to keep going. “yeah, yeah, just fuck me— oh!”

⭑.ᐟ farmer’s!daughter!reader

size kink: cowboy!rafe is hugeee, and (un)fortunately for you, also hung like a fucking horse. his entire body envelopes yours when he’s on top of you, only half of his cock fitting inside of you before he’s forcing you to take the whole thing. feeling like his length and the sheer girth of him is splitting you open, you’re looking down at where you two are connected, your eyes wide as you see what looks like a belly bulge coming up from under your flesh. “ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” you’re delirious as the big, strong man above you drills into you at an unforgiving speed. his hand is large enough to wrap around the entirety of your neck, your chest caving in once you felt the band in your tummy snap.

dirty talk: rafe knew exactly what to say in order to get your cheeks heating. “you don’t think i know wet you are right now? i bet i could slip right in ya’..” you’re gasping at the lewdness of his words, hiding your face from his view as he stroked the exposed flesh of your waist. “ray!” you laughed nervously, both of you hiding in his little house that was in the back of your own. “you know i’m right.. that’s why you’re getting all shy on me right now.” he scoots closer, his lips trailing along your collarbone. “let me take this shirt off, ‘get these tits in my mouth.” being around a horny cowboy wasn’t good for your heart. “oh, my word! your mouth is filthy!”

daddy kink: the basis of you and rafe’s relationship was that you were together secretly, your father forbidding rafe from dating you, let alone looking in your direction. he wasn’t fond of your dad for that very reason. every time he’s asking you who your pussy belongs to, he’s forcing you to refer to him as a different name other than his own. “you, daddy! oh, fuck, i belong to you!” you’re crying out, the name falling from your lips before you could stop it. the fact that he had you, the farmer’s daughter, in his bed, calling him daddy when he knew your actual father hated him, stroked his ego more than your cunt did. “yeah, i’m your daddy? say it again.” you oblige, your eyes screwing shut as the plap of your ass against his thighs echoed in your ears.

mating press: seeing your glossy eyes gaze up at him while he had your knees pressed to your chest was hands down one of his favorite sights. with the back of his hands sitting underneath your hips, your lower half was slightly elevated, your needy cunt guaranteed to take all of his cum. in this position, you swore it felt like he was in your tummy. “nghhh— can’t, rafe!” you shook your head, your eyes brimming with tears as he leaned down, taking your lips in a bruising kiss. “shhh, of course you can, sweetheart, you’re doing so good for me right now.” the wet squelch of your cunt made rafe keen, his lips wet with your spit. “gonna fill you up to the fuckin’ brim..”

breeding kink: you dreamed about having cowboy!rafe’s babies, both of you always talking about having little ones running around the farm. rafe saw it vividly— your pretty round belly, swollen with his seed, a baby on your hip while you greeted him after a full day of work. it’s all he could envision while he’s pumping in and out of you, your sweet moans sounding against his skin. “i’m gonna make you such a pretty mom, baby, you just fuckin’ wait.” he grunted, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he went even deeper inside your cunt. biting back tears, you let out a half-sob as he continuously hit that sensitive spot along your velvety walls. “you’d want that, right?” rafe still asks even though his mind is already made up. “duh!”

⭑.ᐟ pogue!sweetheart!reader

spanking: rafe blamed your mini skirts for his hyper fixation with your ass. he’d be groping you every chance he could get, the spanking factor coming in when you pretended to drop something one day, your boyfriend wasting no time in draping you over his lap and giving you the attention you were so clearly asking for. he spanked you so hard, you couldn’t help but cry out every time his hot palm met your flesh. “you asked me for this, don’t forget that..” he said through gritted teeth, smirking to himself as you continued to let him spank you with an unforgiving force. rafe was always so gentle with you, you loved when he switched things up and disregarded your pain sometimes..

food play: pogue!sweetheart!reader is basically our little strawberry shortcake. always whipping things up in the kitchen with rafe pressed against her ass was bound to lead to some interesting experiments. first it was strawberries, you and rafe sharing one before he dragged the fruit up the curve of your neck, licking the sweet, succulent juice that had dripped down to you chest. the second time around, before you two decided to incorporate it more regularly, you two were having a lazy day, both of you sharing some whipped cream you had made. you had playfully licked some off of rafe’s finger before he got the crazy idea to lick it from other places, too..

cream pie: rafe was obsessed with watching his cum drip out of you. he’d pull out halfway while you were still clenching around him, forcing you to look down so you could see the glorious sight of his twitching cock filling you up before pulling out altogether. you two would wait with bated breath’s, a moan leaving your lips as you felt the warm ropes of cum slowly drip out of your entrance. rafe’s chest would be rising and falling as he used the tip of his cock to smear his seed up and down your folds, even taking the time to circle your sensitive clit. “oh, fuck, this is amazing..” he’d marvel, gathering the sticky succulence before pushing it back into you.

marathon sex: with pogue!sweetheart!reader’s camper being far away from everyone on the island, it was like you and rafe were dead to the world as you moaned and screamed as loud as you wanted. completely losing the concept of time, you and rafe went at it until someone tapped out, neither of you tiring easily when you were too busy getting thrown over the edge time and time again. one night in particular, you and rafe were doing what you usually did before bed, your legs wrapped around his waist as he thrusted into you and you just couldn’t get enough. both of you kept going without any intentions of stopping. it wasn’t until rafe finally called it that you two noticed the blue morning sky peeking through your curtains that you realized you had just fucked for hourssss

soft/vanilla sex: rafe loved taking his time with you, especially because he knew you were sentimental about everything. holding your hands while his head was working between your thighs, looking into your eyes the whole time he was pounding into you, the gentle touches against your skin as he hoisted you up further onto your bed, it was all his way of handling you with care. he’d peck the tip of your nose when you were cumming, his fingers bringing you down from your high as he held you against his chest. whispering praises in your ear, rafe wouldn’t start aftercare until you were gazing up at him lovingly, and that was even sweeter.

[masorciereviolette]

An Unexpected Bonding (intro)

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Authors Note: this is probably the first thing I’ve ever shared with public in terms of my writing, if anyone’s interested, let me know. I do plan on making this a multi Chapter fic. I will say one thing, though before you get started think of in this universe familiars are pretty much the same, with the spiritual bonds and the helping heal and or improve/strengthen a witches magic but I kind of merged them with Harry Potter’s animagus attributes so she can shapeshift into a cat cause why tf not. Just think of it as an ability that the reader is born with not one that she acquires like how they do in the Harry Potter universe, in this reality you can assume any familiar you meet is an animagus some may just not prefer their animal form other may choose to only stay in their shifted form. We are basically gonna start at the beginning of Agatha’s story and from then on it will be somewhat canon compliant. Maybe a few new additions but overall this is just a story about the love and understanding our girl should have been showed from the beginning. #FreeWill

Summary: You’ve been watching her for longer than you’d like to admit, weeks in fact. Though most would assume because of a strange infatuation in truth you didn’t really know why you couldn’t seem to abandon the girl. You could just feel the sorrow in her heart, drawn to her pain……she was lonely, hurting and tonight whether you wanted it or not she would become your everything.

(I suck when it comes to creating summaries for a story I sincerely apologize)

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Agatha could feel her heart beat faster by the second , the oppressive weight of fear coming in from all sides. She could see the hooded faces surrounding her, not quite making out their features, but she didn’t need to. She knew who had betrayed her.

Alone on a wooden pyre she stood bound, her dark eyes flashing with defiance and the glow of magic barely concealed beneath the surface. She had known this moment would come—the weight of her mother’s betrayal, the betrayal of her own coven. Yet, nothing had prepared her for the crushing finality of it all.

The air of Salem hung heavy as the coven jeered, their voices like daggers piercing her resolve. “Witch killer,” they spat. “Child of darkness.”

But Agatha—she was not just any witch. She was powerful beyond their comprehension, a force of nature that they would never fully understand or at least never attempted to. As she stood forced to listen to her crimes she strained against the chains that bound her wrists behind her, begging for her mother to listen, to just understand but her voice was barely audible against the rising din. The magic inside her stirred with urgency. She didn’t want to die—no, not this way, not before she could make things right.

You could feel it. The desperation. The loneliness.

You were there.

A strange pull, a connection that had been forged in the ether of the world tugged at your very essence. It wasn’t like anything you had ever felt before. It was something…..else. spirit bound to her, drawn to her pain, to her sorrow. A cat, black as the midnight sky with eyes glowing purple, slipped silently through the crowd, unnoticed by the onlookers. You had been near for longer than she realized, watching from the shadows witnessing her thoughts, her broken heart.

And now, the pull was so strong, so undeniable, that it surged through you like a living current. You could hear her thoughts, feel her pain—raw, jagged, and so deep it threatened to swallow everything. You wanted to comfort her, to ease her suffering. And as if the universe had conspired for this very moment, your bond was sealed.

Her agony became yours.

The leaves around her began to twist and swirl, as if they could sense the shift in the air, a surge of power that wasn’t meant to belong to a dying witch. But the magic didn’t care about that. It fed on the grief, the loss, and the desperate need for companionship.

As the witches attacked each with their own contribution of power thinking her execution was imminent. It was only the beginning of something far deeper, far more powerful and in that moment, she could feel it coursing through her as if something was giving her strength . A presence, now an irrefutable unexplainable force, rooting her to the earth, grounding her in ways nothing else ever had.

Her chains fell away.

With what had once seemed so far began to flicker. Her own magic, raw and untamed, surged up like a tidal wave, and it was then—only after when her mother and sisters laid atrphied unmoving around her—that she opened her eyes fully for the first time and saw you. Staring in her direction a timid smile on your lips

“Who… are you?” Her voice, hoarse from the terror, trembled as her eyes locked onto yours.

You didn’t speak. There was no need to. You had been her shadow, her silent witness, her secret companion through heartbreak and through triumph. And now, you were forever bound to her.

In that instant, your very essence whispered the answer to her.

“I am yours.”

[rypnami]

Durmstrang Gang

i made these OCs about a year and a half ago for a discord server roleplay group, but i kinda abandonded them as i moved on to other projects. i want to use them again, so have some basic facts! if you remember them you are entitled to a Char Besties Club Ticket!

Cassian Peverell

Half brother of my oc Jack. Same dad (horrible man iykyk), different mum. He was the favoured son because he sort of embodied all the pureblood sterotypes that the Peverell family value, whilst Jack is the opposite in every way.

After it was discovered he is a bastard he was sent to Durmstrang to preserve his father's image and keep him out of the picture. He deeply resents his father and is now a recovering pureblood supremacist. He is in Atticus house, although once transferring to Hogwarts he is a Slytherin with his brother. His patronus is an adder.

General appearance- black curls, ice blue eyes, snake bites, lots of piercings, snake tattoo on his neck, sleeve of tattoos on left arm, tall. wears lots of rings and necklaces.

get in line ladies and gents, he's single and ready to mingle

Elias Ahlberg

Elias is a Swede, and comes from one of the oldest pureblood families in all of Sweden. Yes, I made up an entire Swedish pureblood society for ONE random character for RP purposes. I'm fine.

He's a sweetie and loves art. His partner is @mamalunawolf 's Cirilla, and they met when he and Ziven came to Hogwarts over Christmas to surprise Cass. One of the more open-minded of the boys, as in Sweden there is not so much emphasis on who has what blood, unlike in the UK where it's sooo important if you're pure, half, muggleborn etc.

He is in Terpsichora house, but if he attended Hogwarts he would have been a Hufflepuff. Patronus - golden retriever

General appearance- long, strawberry blonde/light ginger hair, brown eyes, slightly tannish skin, moles, tall, gangly

Ziven Karkaroff

JOCK JOCK JOCK. Buff man. Dumb as rocks. Still adorable. If Quidditch was allowed at Durmstrang, he'd be a Beater, and a damn good one. He's got an extra-thick skull that's good for taking bludgers probably.

He was raised in a similar way to Cassian, in the sense that he should know that he's better than everyone for being a pureblood and that he's superior in every way. Luckily for us, he has, as I said, a thick skull, and those ideals didn't really sink in. He genuinely just... doesn't understand WHY one's blood status should mean anything. Good for him! Ziv is a nice guy if you can get through that very, very, VERY thick exterior. A bit stoic and on the surface DOES look like one of those people that would bully you from your lunch money and drinks the blood of non-Slavics for fun. He would never, though.

He is in Concinne house, would be a Gryffindor if he was at Hogwarts. Patronus - Saint Bernard

General appearance- black hair, cropped close, hazel eyes, BUFF AS HELLLLL, very tall, tattoo of hippogriff on his chest (iykyk), wears a karakroff crest signet ring

he's with one of @girl-named-matty 's ocs (but idk if you still use her waaahh)

Nikolai Krum

The nerd of the group. He is fascinated with the mysteries of the universe and in an au that takes place in a different time period HE would have been the first man in space or died trying. probably died. he's got claustrophobia as well, so you can see why his ambition to travel through space would be conflicting with that...

GAYYY, likes to write and map the stars. Plot twist: despite the fact that Durmstrang ONLY accepts purebloods, Nik is, DUN DUN DUNNNN a halfblood. His parents lied about his blood status so he could attend, and it's only by technicality anyway (his mother comes from a long line of purebloods, but because one time like 2 generations ago one of them married a muggle, for some reason that's not good enough??).

He is in Terpsichora with Elias, but if at Hogwarts he would have definitely been a Ravenclaw. Patronus - Blackbirdl

General appearance - Black hair, green eyes, freckles, short, wide shoulders but slut waist, always painting his nails either black or dark purple. earrings

He's single too, gentlemen hehe.

None of them have in-game models, as none of the presets actually fit how i imagine them. one day, though, i shall draw them

[anotherjheastan]

Another Complicated Love Story

A Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley FanFic

Chapter 6 | Masterlist

CW arguing, yelling, suggestive, mentions sex

Chapter 7: Like I’m Gonna Lose You

So I’m gonna love you like I’m gonna lose you

I’m gonna hold you like I’m saying goodbye

Wherever we’re standing

I won’t take you for granted

‘Cause we’ll never know when, when we’ll run out of time

- Like I’m Gonna Lose You by Meghan Trainor

Jey was vibing with Naomi’s music so he left his earbuds out. The first 30 minutes of their trip had been smooth. He hoped it would continue to be smooth. He could hear Rhea and Jessica whispering and giggling. He couldn’t make out what they were saying though. Jey was feeling both happy and sad to be around her again. Her presence was calming and he felt the desire to hold her hand or put his arm around her growing. But underneath the surface was fear. He didn’t want to get hurt again, but maybe that was unavoidable. At least for now.

He had the visor down to block the sun, but he flicked open the mirror part. He could see Rhea and he smiled. She was beautiful. And he missed her. They were close together, but somehow still far apart. Rhea looked up and met Jey’s eyes in the mirror. She smiled. He smiled back. He broke eye contact first, fighting emotions and memories that were coming up. And fear came up again. Why was he so afraid? He wanted to pull that thread, but he had to focus. He had a show to do. They were gonna give the crowd some Jhea moments since their relationship was a part of the storyline. And it had to look like things were great between them.

“You doing okay, bro?” Naomi asked.

“Yeah I’m good. How are you holding up?” Jey asked.

“I feel good. Should be able to do the whole drive,” Naomi said.

“Good,” Jey replied.

They arrived at the arena in Jacksonville at 12:35 pm. Traffic had picked up, but they still made good time. They all ate lunch together in catering. Dom, Liv, and Raquel grabbed their food while they were there. Dom waved at Jessica and Rhea had to hold Jessica back from making good on her promise.

Before they knew it, it was rehearsal time. All the superstars walked through the show. Jey would come out after Rhea’s match with Raquel. Jey would look over to make sure she was okay and kiss her on the forehead. Rhea was timid towards Jey and it was obvious.

“You gotta be confident tonight,” Jey said. “I’m yours, remember?”

“Forreal or for the show?,” Rhea asked. She tugged on his shirt.

“Forreal,” Jey said, stepping closer to her. He didn’t care what any other superstars or crew were thinking. He gently caressed her face. Rhea started to talk, but Jey cut her off.

“No, I’m not just saying that.”

Rhea still had uncertainty on her face. He rested her forehead on hers. Rhea exhaled and closed her eyes. He felt her relax.

“Let’s lock in,” Jey said quietly. “You got this.”

Rhea nodded. They separated. Jey could see she was focused now. He smiled.

“Let’s have a great show.”

“Yeet,” Rhea replied, grinning.

“Yeet!”

***

Jey loaded up the bags while Jessica talked about how great the show was. Jessica took pictures with a few superstars backstage: Bianca and Naomi, Damien Priest, Bron Breakker. They all did well: Rhea against Raquel, Jey against Bron, Bianca and Naomi vs Candice and Nia.

“Who’s driving? I’m gonna knock out in the back,” Naomi said, holding up the keys.

“I can drive,” Jey said, holding out his hand.

Jessica yawned. “I’ll be in the back too. Nothing worse than a sleeping navigator.”

“Oh how convenient,” Rhea said.

“Time Zones and all that, mate,” Jessica said, shrugging.

“You don’t want to sit next to me?” Jey asked as he closed the trunk.

“I didn’t say that,” Rhea said, walking over to the passenger door and sliding in.

Jey smiled and took his place in the driver’s seat.

Sure enough, about 20 minutes down the road, Naomi and Jessica were out. Rhea didn’t have her headphones in.

“Can I ask you a question?” Jey asked, lowering the music a little.

“Yeah,” Rhea said, glancing at him.

“Why didn’t you reach out to me after the whole Liv thing?” Jey asked.

Rhea sighed. “I tried to text you. Everything I wrote sounded stupid. Especially after I realized it was a misunderstanding.”

Jey nodded, but didn’t say anything. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but resisted. Touching would lead to other things. And he didn’t want to just sex this issue away. He wanted to know they would be good. And he wanted to pull at the thread he was thinking about earlier to see if anything else was bothering him.

“So you weren’t mad at me the whole time?” Jey asked.

“No, babe,” Rhea said.

“Did you miss me?” Jey asked.

“I still miss you,” Rhea said, sadness in her voice.

He reached out and touched her thigh. A calmness washed over him. He could tell it had washed over Rhea too. She put her hand on top of his. They locked eyes for a few seconds, Jey shifting back on the road.

“I miss you too,” Jey said.

He felt a flash of fear and nervousness. What was up with that? He started thinking about where it could possibly come from…

When it finally clicked, he took his hand away from Rhea’s thigh and gripped the steering wheel. He was trying to play it cool, but he was angry. He loved and trusted her and when they had a problem, not to mention their first problem, she turned her back on him? Remnants of his feud with Roman flashed in his mind. Roman had broken him and something had already shifted with Rhea. He wouldn’t let it go any further. He couldn’t.

They made it back to Jimmy and Naomi’s just before 1 am. Naomi reminded them that they were welcome to crash at the house. Jey in the sunroom, Rhea and Jessica in the guest room.

“If y’all still needed space,” Naomi said.

Rhea looked at Jey expectantly. He had said they were good so of course Rhea wanted to be with him. And he almost wanted her to distract him from this mistrust growing toward her. He could get lost in her touch and smile and kisses. But that would only last for one night.

“I’ll take the sunroom. You and Jess can stay together.”

Rhea looked confused and a little hurt, but she just nodded. Jey went on to settle on the couch bed in the sunroom. Just as he got comfortable, his phone buzzed. It was Rhea. He sighed.

Rhea: I thought we were good? What happened?

Jey: We are good. I just need some space.

Rhea: Why?

Jey: Because I don’t want us to just fuck and forget this shit. We gotta deal with it.

Rhea: But we don’t have to fuck. We can cuddle.

Jey: We both know we won’t just cuddle.

Rhea: Does it matter what we do or don’t do, as long as we still work it out?

Jey: It does to me. Go to sleep, Rhea.

Rhea: Come put me to sleep. Or I can come down there.

Jey: You’re bold.

Rhea: And you’re still texting me.

Jey sighed and gave a half smile. Her confidence was back, but his confidence was floundering. Could he push past this fear? Did he want to?

Jey heard the sunroom door open and he sat up. Rhea quietly closed the door behind her. From the low ambient light, he could see she had a mischievous smile on her face. His anger flared. He stood up and held his hand up before she got closer.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jey asked quietly.

“I thought we were flirting,” Rhea said quietly, stepping closer. “Are we not?”

“No we’re not. Stop!” Jey said, harshly.

“What’s wrong? I thought we were good,” Rhea said, crossing her arms.

“Rhea, the last time I saw you you told me to leave you the fuck alone and to go find Liv. You think I just got over that shit?” Jey said loudly.

“I know I messed up,” Rhea replied loudly. “But I apologized. I’m working on my shit. We basically said we loved each other this morning. Tonight, in the ring, you told me you're mine? That was a lie?”

“No, that wasn’t a lie. That’s the problem.”

“What? What are you saying?” Rhea yelled, frustrated.

“I’m yours. And you abandoned me!” Jey yelled. “I tried to have your back and you told me to fuck off because of something you made up.”

Rhea’s eyes watered, her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak. She exhaled a shaky breath.

“Yes, I overreacted,” she said slowly. “But you know why.”

“Yeah and your why is telling me I can’t fucking trust you,” Jey said loudly.

More tears fell from Rhea’s eyes. She dropped her arms. “So this is it? This is how we end?” Her voice dropped back to a whisper.

Jey shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You weren’t a rebound, Jey. This was serious for me.”

“This was serious for me too. Why do you think I’m so fucking scared?” Jey asked.

Rhea wiped her tears away. Jey’s eyes started to water. Rhea put a hand on her stomach and a hand on her chest. She took some deep breaths and blew out slowly.

“Watching you pass out…broke something in me,” Jey said, quiet now too. “I hated not being there for you, but you turned your back on me. After everything we talked about with The Judgment Day and The Bloodline. And you didn’t ask me what happened. It was like your word was law. So I fell in line.”

Rhea nodded. “Sounds like you have trauma that you need to work out too.”

Their eyes met. Jey’s heart pounded.

There was a knock on the door. Rhea turned around and backed away from the door as it opened. She was close to Jey now. Jimmy walked in.

“I would ask if y’all are okay, but y’all woke up the whole house…” Jimmy said.

“I’m sorry, uce,” Jey said.

“I’m sorry,” Rhea said.

“If y’all aren’t gonna keep it down, I’d suggest finishing talking in the morning,” Jimmy said.

“We’ll keep it down,” Jey said.

Rhea nodded, looking at Jey.

Jimmy studied both of them. “Don’t make me come back down here.”

Jey smirked. “Yes sir.”

Jimmy closed the door.

“I can go,” Rhea said.

Jey took her hand. “Don’t. Stay with me.”

Rhea looked at their hands and looked up at him, heat passing between them. “I don’t want this to be goodbye.”

“We’ll make it work so it won’t be,” Jey said. “Like you were saying earlier.”

He pulled her close to him, his arms wrapped around her waist. Jey was tired of feeling angry and sad. He wanted to feel something else.

“Oh,” Rhea said, smiling. “You’re done being mad at me?” She reached up, her arms resting on his shoulders, hands behind his neck.

“Yeah,” Jey said. “Now I know what I gotta work on.”

Rhea pressed her body up against him. Jey bit his lip.

“See? We could’ve been on Round 2 by now,” Rhea whispered, her eyes shifting between his eyes and lips.

Jey smirked as he leaned in. “Greedy,” he whispered just before he kissed her.

Rhea smiled briefly before losing herself in the kiss. She held him tightly as she kissed him back. Clothes came off and kisses were planted in places other than lips. Their quiet moans filled only the sunroom. They made sure. And after, they looked into each other’s eyes, promising to make this work.

[aziraphales-library]

Hey, yall do super cool work, thank you for everything yall do <3

I was wondering if you could find any BPD Crowley fics? It isn’t have to be specifically centric, but just written with that headcanon in mind/referenced/mentioned, just about anything that mentions it 😅😅😅 Original universe if possible

tysm again for everything you do, I've been using your blog for fic recs for a WHILE now, super super useful and wonderful :]

Hello! While compiling this list I realised that a couple of these fics are yours, but I've added them for completeness and so others can enjoy them. Here are some fics in which Crowley has (or at least is implied to have) borderline personality disorder...

In This Twilight, How Dare You Speak Of Grace by cosmickaiju (T)

They can't bear to hear his pity. Can't bear the thought of Aziraphale thinking they're just like any other demon.

My World Can't Turn Without You by LvndrLemonade (M)

Crowley is convinced he's been abandoned for good, and doesn't see the point in going on. Upstairs in Heaven, Aziraphale's plans to stop the Second Coming are hastily interrupted by a sudden feeling of terrible dread.

Delicate by midnightdragons (T)

Aziraphale tries to comfort Crowley after waking him from a nightmare.

i was born sick (but i love it) by sonderrrr (T)

After he regains his breath, he falters three words. Three words that Crowley had prayed he would never have to hear again. Because it meant he was wrong. “I forgive you.” What was he being forgiven for? Initiating a kiss that was unwarranted? Not going with his Angel? Being a demon? Being unlovable? Sighing, Crowley shakes his head and starts for the door. “Don’t bother.”

The Great (not) Gatsby by luckythirt33n, LvndrLemonade (G)

Can't repeat the past? ...of course you can! Ever since being assigned to the states, Crowley has been, admittedly, lonely. He hosts grand, sinful, parties under an alter ego, so he can get Hell of his back, and simply bides his time to get back home. That changes when Aziraphale joins him in the United States, sent on a vague mission from Heaven to 'check in on things.' Though, their newfound time together isn't as simple as it should be; Crowley has gotten into some political hot-water with activity in his overwhelming free time, and the sudden appearance of a mystery man may be what can solidify a rather scandalous article that's bound to hit the front covers of every newspaper in the nation. Aziraphale and Crowley will have to balance want with need, thousands of years of pining finally bubbling to the surface. Will they be able to get their happy ending *and* keep each other safe?

Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it by mr_clairdycat (T)

"That said, this angel and this demon love each other in the way someone who loves God does, that much is objective. Their love is patient and kind, it doesn't insist in its own way, it is not irritable or resentful, nor does it rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. That’s how it truly is; their love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Most importantly, however, it will never end. Does not matter whether everyone in the universe isagainst it, they will persevere till the end of their never-ending life. That considered, who could’ve known if God was truly against it in the first place, if this was a test, if this was their plan. But maybe, just maybe it is useless to ponder at such question. Cause that’s what these two are: indescribable, unimaginable, forbidden, wonderful. They are just ineffable."

- Mod D

[alelathedragon]

The world deserves to see my funky brain do backflips over something as simple as a Drawing Prompt

@liliththequeenofdemon was hosting some contest to draw fav characters as Krampus, I don't really mind what place I get as I was purely invested in making a Krampus Mr.Puzzles. this man is turning in my head 24/7 on loop and I cooked up a whole ass Concept for what he would be like as Krampus

Enjoy

Surface Level- Sweet and Affectionate (as possible)

He was put into the world to punish bad children while Santa gave gifts to those who were good! But Puzzles didn't want to hurt people, in fact he was jealous of Mr.Cringle... why does he get to make everyone happy while HE is left with the leftovers? So instead of doing his job, Puzzles seeks out bad children who are about to fall under some monsters cruel fate and Rescue them.

He gives bad kids a second or even a third chance to change their behavior bc he simply wants to see them smile and get credit for it

He actively hides all his monstrous attributes as he doesn't want to scare nor harm the children, and while he does his absolute best to rescue kids from a life of bad decisions hes not really... GOOD at talking to people, he doesn't understand how the kid feels and thus doesn't know how to give them advice. Hes also some type of deity so like- how does he help a kid with something like too much homework?

He'll give kids ⭐Spying Stars⭐ in order to keep an eye on them more closely, maybe get an idea of why they're being so rotten and interject himself into their life where he can. Sometimes he helps and sometimes he just makes their lives harder... His heart is in the right place but there's a reason this stuff was left to Santa and not him.... But he never sees Santa helping kids, he just rewards good behavior then disappears! So ofc Puzzles sees this as an opportunity to get close to people himself

Even though he just wants to see people smile he is still prone to getting angry easily, he especially hates it when he manages to help someone out but they never tell his story... Hes not popular or loved like Santa they just forget him and what he did to help which can lead to- kidnapping or worse,,,,

Some deity have mercy on you if he is genuinely trying to help some kid and you attack him for it- he will lose all composure immediately.

He just wants the world to be a better and happier place and is really frustrated none of his efforts do anything and when they DO nobody acknowledges him!!

Very easily pissed off, even if hes mostly gentle and tries to be kind he will snap in an instance to murder mode and actually do his damn job if he feels the wrath not ending.

Whelp hope you enjoyed my Krampus Mr.Puzzles idea im going to evaporate into mist now

*woosh

[thefearfulheart]

Been awhile since I’ve last posted something on Parkour Civilisation and Clownbo (so sorry about that my work was busting my butt lately ahaha) but I have a small au idea for people here if they want it that lets me combined something else I absolutely love as well

Vampire Evbo x Vampire Hunter Clown that’s set in a modern au

So, to start off the premise, Evbo is a recently turned vampire that was completely an accident after Seawatt (who was his then boyfriend at the time but is no longer that :)) decided to finally feed on him after luring him back to his place that he was temporarily staying at and then left him pretty much to die after using him for his blood…unfortunately for Seawatt he didn’t end up realising that he actually turned Evbo and when the blond woke after it-to say the least-he was confused. Evbo tries to find Seawatt again after finding the large amount of blood that seemed to be spilt around him, the aching pit that gnaws at his stomach painful and his sudden avoidance of the sun…well, Evbo ends up finding that Seawatt is completely gone now and he has to figure out what happened on his own.

He ends up researching his symptoms, thinking that he’s just sick possibly to deny what’s happening to him as he grows more and more hungrier each day, and he grows paler each passing day until he’s backed into a corner by someone trying to rob him…something tight in his guts pulling hard onto him as he feels his teeth ache with pain and his eyes darken as the robber gets closer towards him, tension bubbling underneath his skin until they’re just a breath away…and then he pounces on them, his fingers tearing into them as his teeth latch onto their neck and he tastes the sweet, tart taste of blood filling his mouth and he’s gone. A blind hunger overtakes him and he doesn’t awaken from it until he finds himself at his home, alone and washing out the blood from his clothes in the sink. The taste of blood fresh in his mouth as he stares into the bathroom tub in horror-his eyes reflecting off the murky, bloodied surface of it-and he slowly brings a hand to his mouth to breath, trying to find purchase as he throws himself away from the bathtub and slides down the wall opposite it with a pained noise escaping him.

He’s finally figured out he isn’t ‘sick’ now and that it’s something much worse….

Clown enters later on when Evbo has established himself a bit more and kinda has figured out what he can do to satiate his hunger without hurting people, his first kill still fresh in his mind. He tries to use animal blood to satiate his hunger but that thirst for human blood haunts his waking hours even as he drinks animal blood, a pungent bitterness clinging to it that sours his senses and makes him want to hurl, but he resists the urge even if he never feels full from it…eventually he ends up making another friend in the form of Void who’s a werepanther (he’s so cat coded I’m sorry) and it’s going pretty good so far for him, he’s alive and well and he now has a friend that has his back in this! (Ended up meeting void after the other accident fell on top of him while in his panther form when Evbo was hunting and they became quick friends after it.)

He still hasn’t found Seawatt on why this happened…but he feels like he’s getting closer to finding him and he knows that it’s only a matter of time before he has his answers.

That is…until Clown enters the picture.

Something about the masked man-it has to be a man there’s no question about it since he bleeds like a man-has Evbo on edge and Void nervous when they first see him around time. There’s an almost predator like quality in the way the other moves-as if he’s sizing them up-and the way he stares at Evbo as if he’s taking him apart in his mind and rearranging him again and again. It’s something that sets Evbo’s instincts on edge and heightens his desire to bare his fangs at him, to prove he’s the bigger predator here, but he stomps that desire down each time it rises up.

Evbo first meets him when he comes into his work-most likely a barista in all honesty or something like that-and their eyes immediately lock onto each other, something that makes Evbo freeze in place and Clown tilts his head at him in interest. It feels like an eternity until Evbo gets told to go on break and he sighs in relief to leave while Clown watches him walk away from him, the air almost suffocating until the blond leaves.

The dynamic is very much a wolf among sheep x a sheep in a wolf’s den situation with Clown and Evbo since Clown is here to investigate the multitude of murders that have been popping up with the attacks resembling vampire feedings (something that is completely unconnected to Evbo but he unfortunately gets involved in it) and ends up finding the odd occurrences of animals attacks and deaths as well which makes him suspicious. He ended up getting requested to do this job as a favour from an old enemy of his (The Old Man) and was disgruntled that his skills weren’t being used for something more interesting than this but retracts his opinion when he finds out about the odd animal attacks and the strange blond that he met earlier that day :)

I will outright say that Clown is straight up human because I think it’s more terrifying for Evbo to go against someone with no special powers or abilities and is just so incredibly, terrifyingly human in everything he does. The dread of ‘just’ a man being so powerful while being human intriguing and terrifying him but also the fact that Clown’s blood calls to him in such a way, teasing and whispering to him that he should have a taste of him.

It sets something in him alight and he craves for Clown’s blood, thinking about the man and what he would taste like in his waking hours and resting hours. Something that consumes him obsessively that he claws at himself for the thoughts of consumption, the craving of the blood and dangerous man while Clown remains unaware of his desires there. It’s something that scares Evbo to the core and frightens him since he feels like he’s walking on such a thin, fine wire that would snap at any moment…and he’s scared of what he would do when it happens.

Specifically this song with them as well fills my brain at the moment

[loycos]

How do you think Ekko feels about Caitlyn and Vi, separately and as a couple? Reed Shannon (Ekko's VA) stated in a post on how Caitlyn found her humanity and grace through her struggles; plus he resposted(?) a meme of Caitlyn alongside Ekko, Jinx, Vi and Isha from that gangster family meme; I don't know if you know the meme, it was the best way I could describe it.

again diving into personal headcanon territory, with a little bit of support from League lore (idk if its still relevant). i feel like i need to explain what my post canon vision for caitvi is to articulate what i think ekko would think of them. ramble incoming:

i think caitlyn and vi are gonna be enforcers again, caitlyn as the sheriff and vi her second-in-command (deputy). caitlyn will try to reform the enforcers with a stricter hand, and a watchful eye. theres a reason she didnt take her seat in the council- caitlyn is all about doing the hard job on location, seeing reality through her own eyes- she doesnt want to help by sitting in a tower and discussing things in theory, shes practical and realistic and she wants to experience the real thing. her job as sheriff will allow her to make that change while still giving her the access to do things on the field.

vi joining tbe enforcers will mainly be done to stay close to caitlyn and protect her if needed. vi never had a big direction in life other than the people she loves- she would jump on the opportunity to spend more time with cait and have the chance to punch people with her big gauntlets. her position as deputy is absolutely unearned in terms of experience or even commitment to the cause- but caitlyn is the sheriff and she put her there, so vi and her can stay close. which other enforcers, and pilties, and zaunites, are extremely aware of. it is corruption, even if relatively unharmful one. having a zaunite as the deputy made a lot of pilties upset, especially when shes so underqualified, and made them question caitlyn's ethics, for good reason. mega especially when vi is known to overall act out of line, cause unnecessary property damage, show overall disrespect to the reformed enforcer protocol and not bind herself to schedules, and yet get absolutely no punishment, let alone acknowledgement of her misdeeds by her boss, who turns a blind eye (wink wink) to her shenanigans.

so yeah, other enforcers are fuming, the pilties arent happy, and zaunites? well, despite caitlyn trying her best to solve the issues that ran years before she was born, there's only so much changing the protocol can do for her. she is harsher on enforcer violence and the prison under her watch has changed to be more humane, but its not like she can control every single enforcer personally. so its not perfect but its slightly better than what it used to be. caitlyn herself has the exact same attitude towards both pilties and zaunites- kind of cold, calculated, no bullshit taken, unapologetic, yet with a layer of empathy underneath the surface. kind of similar to what grayson was. this attitude doesnt win her people's favor on either side, but it does earn her respect- and especially in zaun, where her family status means nothing, that means a lot. she's definitely not a "champion of the people"- i think most people in the city actively dislike her, and the (true) rumors of corruption arent helping.

as for vi, zaunites see her as a traitor. she is known to be kind of a bulldozer that can be quite trigger happy, especially when it involves caitlyn (who we already discussed people dont really like) being in danger or disrespected. she has a dismissive "and what about that" attitude that is very zaun in nature, but since shes now wearing a badge, zaunites get annoyed with. pilties, of course, absolutely hate that attitude. so she isnt seen very favorably either, on either side of the river, just like her girlfriend.

the relationship between them is kind of an open secret. every enforcer in the force knows vi is only in her position cause she "gives caitlyn favors under the table", and those rumors reached topside and bottom as well. and again, they arent untrue, theyre just a relatively mean and shallow reading of the actual relationship between the women. neither caitlyn nor vi ever acknowledges these rumors. they stay at a 6 feet distance from each other while working, but the fact they are so interlinked really leaves no other answer. they know everybody knows, everybody knows that they know, and it's never addressed directly by either of them. their relationship is kind of an anigma to people on both sides- pilties think caitlyn settled for a street rat, zaunites think vi sold her soul to be with a rich pig. no one really knows the history or intimate details about their relationship, for obvious reasons, and thats what it looks like to them on the surface.

righttttt, this ask was about ekko. i got carried away. so ekko. how does he play into all of this? while he's not entirely on the average zaunite camp, he is reluctant to work with caitlyn, but does so anyway because ultimately they share similar goals. while he understands vi better than most people, and knows she always puts her loved ones before any political cause, he can't help but feel a little betrayed by her choice. i think he doesnt really see what vi sees in caitlyn, and since he doesnt "get" that, vi's choice to stay with her at all costs looks odd. especially since caitlyn on the surface just looks like a cold, authoritarian bitch. with good intentions! but still a bitch.

in the end, it all comes down to masks. i imagine post canon caitvi are both sporting masks for protection, and have their walls really high up in public. and can you blame them? they actively wear their weakest spot, their achilles heel- each other- on their sleeve. theyre in public positions, have a lot of eyes on them, and their "professional" relationship is extremely looked down upon. so caitlyn acts colder and harsher, and vi puts on a bravado of "i dont give a shit" and uses violence as a threat to deter people from seeing her as weak. the walls are there to ensure their safety. but like we saw in the series, when its just the two of them, all those walls crumble, and they allow themselves to just be vulnerable.