#for the love of god can i not miss it for once

[xoxxbilliexoxx]

Friends? Just Friends?

After years of being friends with Billie, the sexual tension comes to an all time high and can’t be ignored any longer. You finally let her teach you exactly what it feels like to be with a woman

This is super long but I promise it’s worth it ;)

Y/N Pov

I walk over to the speaker, turn it on, and ask Billie what playlist she wants to hear. It’s a chill Sunday afternoon, and after Billie and I woke up around noon, we’ve been lying in bed watching TikTok and yapping. Billie slept over last night after a late night at a friend's party. It seems like these days I don’t spend many nights without Billie in my bed, or me in hers. We’ve been friends for years but a while ago we both expressed how bored and lonely we each had been, and started hanging out almost all the time. Now a few months later, she's definitely my best friend, always attached to each other's hips. I finally pulled myself out of bed a little while ago, and now it is unfortunately time for my Sunday routine. Billie knows it well by now since she’s been forced to be a part of it week after week.

“Let's do some bossa nova this week, I’m in the mood to move my hips” Billie laughs back at my question. We’ve bonded over our love for international music and it has been slowly added into the Sunday routine, choosing a different type each week once I finally force myself out of bed, cleaning up my room while Billie's lazy ass stays under the comfy sheets goofing off on her phone and telling me all her crazy thoughts. She starts seductively moving her hips beneath the blankets as she laughs and hums to the Brazilian guitar purring through the speaker. I look over at her as I lean down to pick up the dirty clothes that have accumulated in the corner of my room, laughing back at her.

As I stand up and try to turn around, I feel my foot slide out from under me, seemingly having been planted on a dirty pair of underwear I missed. I hit the floor with a loud thunk and Billie darts to the corner of the bed, not even trying to hide her laughter as she tries to calm down long enough to ask if I’m okay. I turn my head to follow her voice, and all I can see is her head extending off the bed, hovering over me, leaving me laughing just as loud as she is. “Oh my god, I will never not make fun of your clutsy ass ending up on the floor” she yells out between her giggles, trying hard to catch her breath as she points down at me laughing more as she mocks my fake hurt face.

I grab the first thing I can find next to me and throw it at her face before pretending I’m mad, yelling for her to quit being a bitch and help me get up. She dramatically dodges whatever it is coming for her face then leans her hand up catching it. As she opens her hand and realizes it's my black thong I wore last night, she acts as if shes absolutely disgusted before she laughs and throws it back at me. “Bitch don’t you ever throw ur crusty ass panties at my face again,” she says with a tight smile, letting me know she doesn’t actually care. I open my mouth gasping at her words, “crusty? Whose panties you calling crusty cuz they sure as hell aren’t mine” I say, before standing up from the floor and grabbing them to add them to the laundry bin. “My kitty is nice and clean, and so are my underwear,” I add, as I turn to her, knowing she hates when I call it my kitty.

“Yea yea,” she laughs, before jumping off the bed, “I bet it is,” she whispers, leaning her head close to mine before winking and walking to the bathroom. I take a second to look for something next to say, not coming up with anything. Billie and I have always walked a fine line of flirting and just joking around as friends. It's clear we both do it, but we’ve never acknowledged it. Instead, it just stays in our presence, like a thick tension we pretend we don’t feel. I feel it all too well though, always holding an intense attraction to her, since the day I met her. Quite honestly it was even before that, when I was still just a fan of hers and never thought I’d end up her best friend. That is another whole story though.

Ever since I told Billie I thought I might be gay, the tension has only grown, yet we continue not to recognize it, like we are both terrified of what might happen if we do. I decide in a split second to be bold, regretting the words as soon as they come out of my mouth, “Nice and clean and with no one to show it to,” Billie whips her head back at me with a smile, toothpaste spilling out the sides as she laughs and wipes it away, rubbing it shamelessly on the big t-shirt she slept in. I giggle a bit before finding my confidence again. Maybe this damn bossa nova is getting to my head but I feel the tension as thick as its ever been. I catch a look in her eyes that I haven’t seen before, like shes thinking about what I look like under these boxers. “No *girl* to show it to”, adding emphasis to my words as I correct my previous statement.

I turn around and walk towards my desk as silence falls between us. I begin picking up all the makeup on my vanity, continuing on with my cleaning, letting the bossa nova fill my head again. I can hear Billie finishing in the bathroom, clinking her toothbrush on the side of the sink before setting it back in the cup and walking into my room again. She settles on the edge of the bed in criss-cross, watching me clean and hum along with the guitar.

“So you’ve thought more about it then, huh?” she asks me delicately, knowing we haven’t talked about it in a while. I look into the mirror and find her eyes on the bed behind me, eyes that have already found me. I turn around to face her before I shrug my shoulder. “I mean I think about it constantly, I just feel so nervous about it all. I really think I’m into women but I don't know where to go from here” I answer her, but continue on after a brief pause. “Actually, I know I’m into women, regardless it's scary as fuck…. Women are scary as fuck” I laugh out. “You’re cute,” Billie says with a little giggle. It comes out in a friendly way, but the way she continues to stare at me after she says it doesn’t match the solely friendly tone of voice. I pick up a shirt lying on the bench of my vanity and throw it at her head, harder than the panties this morning. It hits her right on the forehead and she sprawls out on the bed dramatically, acting far more hurt than she was. “Oh stop being dramatic and get ur lazy ass up, it's time to go downstairs and clean the kitchen,” I say as I walk over and pull her up by her arms. As I let go and walk out of the room with Billie following behind me, I turn to look at her, “at least it wasn’t another pair of my nasty crusty disgusting thongs” I saw with a big mocking smile, puckering my lips sending her fake kisses like we always do when we are making fun of each other. Yet again we have managed to completely ignore the tension we are both choking on.

TIME JUMP TO THAT NIGHT

Billie and I are sitting on the couch waiting for our postmates to arrive and watching some shitty rom com on that we both picked from the image alone. We already had cold vegan pizza for dinner and are on our second bottle of wine. This is just another classic sunday evening, junk food, wine, and a postmated dessert to finish off the normal routine. When I first met Billie I watched as she drank her sodas and water while everyone else around her drank mixed drinks and beer. She made it clear publicly that she didnt drink, and when I finally asked her why she told me she had no problem with alcohol or the idea of drinking she just hated every drink she ever tried.

One night when we very first started these constant sleepovers she tried a taste of my favorite wine and loved it. A few weeks later she and I shared a bottle and I had the privilege of watching her experience the drunk world for the first time. Nowadays, we usually each have a glass every Sunday night, and occasionally we will have a girl's night and drink more than a few glasses while we watch shitty movies. Tonight was turning into one of those nights, having just stocked up on our favorite when I went to Target earlier. I walk into the kitchen to pop open the second bottle and ask if Billie wants more. She excitedly grabs her glass and runs into the kitchen after me, purposely sliding with her socks on the kitchen tile as she laughs.

The couple of times Billie has ever been drunk have all been with me, and it’s very clear she is a goofy drunk. This girl is already the funniest person I know when she is sober, but being around her while she's drunk has my abs hurting from laughing. She is quite a lightweight, with her infrequent drinking and her tiny body, so usually we just finish a bottle and a half, before we get messy drunk. We both enjoy being just past tipsy, still in control, still with a filter to our thoughts, but just a little more light-hearted and silly.

When we finish the movie and go in for a refill before starting a new one, we look at each other shocked when we pour out the last drops of the second bottle. “Did we drink all of that?” Billie laughs, her cheeks rosy and her eyes big. “Ruh roh” she yells out before laughing and lifting her glass to take the last sip. “I think we just broke our pathetic previous record,” I giggle back at her. “Should we open another??” she asks me, her words making it clear she is leaving it up for me to decide. I can tell she’s never been this drunk, yet I know she’s nowhere near dangerous drunk, or even messy drunk. “Fuck it let's do it” I shout a little too loudly before I grab another bottle out of the fridge.

TIME JUMP (Smutty time)

Our empty wine glasses are sitting on the coffee table in front of us as we lay under the blankets and watch the movie the TV put on automatically after our first movie finished. We are about 20 minutes in and it's becoming incredibly clear this is not at all similar to the cheesy straight rom-com that came before it. I feel my breath catch in my throat and all the wine-filled blood run to my center when the TV fills with the images of two women making out, one being thrown on the bed while the other climbs on top of her. As the sex scene keeps going, I remember that this is Netflix, and they are putting straight-up soft porn in their movies now.

I feel the pool forming in my underwear as I watch this graphic, incredibly hot lesbian sex scene play out in front of me. My drunk face must not be hiding what I'm feeling well because as Billie turns to look at me, she lets out a loud laugh. “Baby you look like a deer in headlights,” she says, still quietly giggling, her drunkenness showing through in the sound of her laughter. I swallow loudly before looking at her and then back at the TV. The moans get louder as we watch one of the girls reach her peak, the other continuing to go down on her. I shift awkwardly on the couch, trying not to make it too obvious how much that affected me, how turned on it got me. The combination of the wine, the hot lesbian sex in front of us, and the sexually charged tension Billie and I shared earlier is making it impossible for me to look Billie in the eyes, too scared of what I might say or do. Billie is still staring at me as my eyes stay glued on the screen, the scene still playing out. I feel her torso lifting up from the couch and getting closer to me before smiling and whispering, “You wish that was you, huh? Sitting here wondering what it must be like to get fucked by a girl… or fuck a girl yourself” she stays close to me, swallowing and giggling before continuing. “It's fucking incredible, better than you could even imagine,” she says matter of factly. The tension is as thick as it could possibly get, almost like I could see it taking over my entire body, and just by looking at Billie it's clear she feels it too.

Before I can stop myself, I spring towards Billie. My momentum picking up as I get closer. Realizing what I’m doing, I pause, scared to move at all. Billie grabs my face, pulling me the rest of the way to her and our lips crash together. Months of building tension all explode at once as our tongues slide against each other, eagerly slipping between one another's lips, no longer hiding how badly we want each other. “Show me, Billie,” I say, pulling back enough to get my words out and swallow. “Show me what it feels like to be with a girl,” I finish. “you have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say those words” she confesses as she stands up, pulling my hand to follow her to my room. We both lightly stumble down the hallway, giggling from the wine and the anticipation of what is to come.

As we make our way into my room I turn on my favorite lamp- it has a dark pink light bulb that glows so nicely in my room at night. I throw myself onto the bed and land right next to Billie, both of us taking a second to laugh at my ridiculous jump before getting quiet again. She turns on her side to face me and I do the same. My hair falls in front of my face as I turn. Billie’s hand comes up, brushing it out of the way before kissing me again, pulling me in tight against her as our legs dance together. Her leg finds its way between mine and as our kiss gets heated again she pushes up against my core. I let out a slight whine as Billie’s hands hit my waist, pushing me harder against her thigh and pushing her tongue into my mouth.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so horny, been so wet, or wanted someone more in my life. Billie’s head finds its way to my neck as she begins placing light kisses against my skin. When she bites down and pushes her thigh against my clit harder, I let out a deep moan that I swear has been growing in me for months. “Mmmmhhhmm, Billie…” I huff as I begin grinding my hips shamelessly against her thigh, begging for any pleasure at this point. Billie's shorts have slid all the way up her leg, leaving her thigh bare and able to feel my soaked shorts gliding against her as I move my hips faster.

I feel her wet lips hit my ear, biting it gently as she breathes out. It is as if my body is on fire, every single nerve ending I have lighting up at once, every touch suddenly feeling sexual. I am melting at her every move and she hasn’t even touched me yet. If this is what it feels like to be with a girl, I want it forever. “Billie please” I whine out, desperation filling my voice as I grind my core harder against her. My wet shorts rub tightly against my clit with every move I make and I feel like I could cum from this alone. A slight embarrassment creeps up, slowing my hips as I realize how close I am to cumming, just from her thigh against my pussy. I grab the back of her head as she continues sucking and biting on my neck. Quiet moans continue spilling from my lips as my head begins to race. Is this a thing in lesbian sex? Am I crazy for doing this? Should I stop?

As my mind continues to take control and ruin my pleasure Billie interrupted the thoughts, almost as if she could hear them out loud. “Don’t stop grinding on my thigh until I feel your cum drench my skin, keep going for me Y/N I know it feels good” Her words are exactly what I needed, making my pussy clench tightly. I grab her chin and pull her into a deep kiss as her hands snake under my shirt and reach my bare chest. She squeezes my big boobs hard before pinching my nipple, giggling as I yelp into her mouth. She continues toying with my hard nipples as I pull away from her lips, too caught up in the pleasure to keep kissing. Each time she pinches and pulls at my bud I groan louder and move my hips faster. Billie catches on quickly, continuing her fun on my boobs, dragging me closer and closer to the edge, flooding every part of my body with overwhelming pleasure. I find my way to her neck, needing to feel closer to her, placing open-mouth kisses all over. I earn a quiet gasp from her when I hit a sweet spot, and latch on tighter.

As I kiss her harder, biting on her skin, continuing to pull moans from her, she suddenly pushes her thigh in a new angle right as I speed up my movements, throwing me over the edge. I grab her tight, pulling her as close to me as she can possibly be. My head is still nuzzled into her neck, my mouth hanging open as loud moans pour from my lips, lips that continuing lightly connect with her skin. My legs shake as she grabs both my hips and continues to move them for me, allowing me to ride out my orgasm for as long as possible. I hold my breath, shocked at the pleasure I am experiencing just from her thigh on my body. A light hum sings from her lips as I finally come down from such a powerful orgasm. I hold her tight as I catch my breath, needing to feel her close to me, trying to process the feelings I am beginning to understand, feelings I felt for her for a long time. Billie giggles as she rubs my back, helping ground me and letting me take my time with my descent back to earth. I finally pull my head from out of her neck and grab her face, needing to kiss her hard before anything is said, trying to gather my thoughts. I let my back fall onto the mattress as I laugh and breath out, still shocked at what was happening, shocked that Billie, my best friend, the girl I’ve secretly been attracted to for years, just pushed me to the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.

“there ya go baby,” Billie says as she climbs on top of me, grabbing my chin, pulling me in for an intensely hot kiss before placing her lips on my forehead. “now let me clean you up” she whispers in between kisses, kisses that started as pecks and are now becoming more and more sloppy. She lifts my shirt up and I grab it, pulling it over my head needing to be free. “Can I see you too Billie?” I ask, a slight innocence and vulnerability peaking out of my words as I hold my fingers at the base of her shirt, slightly sliding it up. She smiles and sits up, tugging the shirt over her head and reaching behind her, immediately taking off her sexy black lace bra. My heart skips a beat when I watch her perfect big boobs drop to their natural, beautiful position. I lay myself up on my elbows pulling her closer, needing them in my mouth. I kiss lightly before wrapping my lips all the way around her nipple, circling my tongue around her bud as one of my hands plays with her free boob. “Ooo baby fuck… y/n mmmm” she sings, her hands pushing my head towards her as I continue on exploring her breasts.

She pushes me away and lays her own lips on my chest, eagerly moving down my body. “I need to taste you, mama, take these slutty little shorts off for me” She pulls at the waistband as I lift my hips up, helping her slide them off of me before laying back down. Her words make my pussy clench, pushing out more of my juices. She grabs both my thighs gripping them hard as she spreads them, groaning loudly as she sees my wet core for the first time ever. I swallow hard, the vulnerability of my exposed pussy hitting me all at once, wanting to hide from her, covering my face with my arm. Billie clearly senses my emotions, knowing me all too well. She places a light kiss on my upper thigh, then another on the other side. “Oh y/n you’re so perfect… sexier than I could have ever imagined,” she kisses my upper thigh again before continuing, “and I’ve thought about it a lot” I whine at her words, the hunger pushing away the vulnerability, and right as I’m about to beg for her tongue, she latches on. Still so sensitive from my last orgasm, I’m unable to hold in any of my moans, immediately drunk from the pleasure yet again. I grab her hair hard and push her against me as my hips buck. “Fuck Billie your tongue feels so good” my moans interrupt my own words, throwing my head back as her tongue circles my swollen clit. “oh baby, fuck Billie please don’t stop, fuck” my words fuel her on as she gets even more intense. It feels like she’s devouring me, eating me alive like she's been starved forever. She comes up for air and we make eye contact. I swallow back my drool as I stare at her, unable to process just how sexy she looks. Her eyes look black from her massive lust-filled pupils and her chin is covered in my cum, dripping down as she licks her lips. “Your pussy tastes so fucking good, mmm I can’t get enough of you” and with that her tongue is back on me, flicking and slurping, swallowing and circling, tasting every inch of my core.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get better, two fingers pump into me, filling me perfectly. I gasp and shake underneath her, beginning to feel overstimulated by the pleasure she gives me. I feel as if im floating, like this is all just a fever dream, it cant be possible for sex to feel this good. “God, fuck, baby. Fuck Billie yesssss” I struggle to get my words out as my hands dart around the bed, trying to find anything to grab hold of, something to anchor me to this bed as I feel my stomach contracting. “I feel you pulsing on my fingers mama, let go for me, cum on my fingers like the good girl I know you are” Her voice is raspy and low, sexier than I’ve ever heard it before. Her nasty words flood my mind and I scream as I feel her lips wrapped around my clit again, sucking and licking as she curves her fingers upward and hits my g-spot. She keeps devouring me and moaning into my pussy as she speeds her fingers up and I feel like I’m about to black out. Thank god I live alone because I don’t think I’ve ever been louder in my life. “Billie Im about to cum, fuck it feels so good please don’t stop” She smiles into my cunt as she flicks her fingers inside of me, doing a come here motion as she pumps them in and out, stimulating me in a way I have never been stimulated before. It feels like she knows my body better than I even do, like shes been fucking me like this for years. She keeps up the motions of her fingers as she flattens out her tongue and pushes it hard against my clit, moving her head side to side. “Oh my goddddd” I scream out as I begin shaking underneath her, being hit with my second orgasm, one that is somehow twice as strong as the first. “Fuck Billie yes fuck” I can’t get all my words out before needing to scream and moan again. “Im cumming baby fuck, f-fuckkkkkkk”

the last of my sentence turns into a deep moan as she keeps going. Keeps plowing her fingers into me, keeps moving her tongue side to side on my clit, keeps lighting me up with intense pleasure. I feel a new sensation as she continues to overstimulate me. It’s something I’ve never felt before and it's stronger than any orgasm I’ve ever had. “Wait billie, fuck, please oh god” She lifts her head up from my clit but speeds up her fingers. My eyes are squeezed shut and my lungs are frozen, unable to breath. I feel like my body is full of stars, like im no longer all the way here. My knuckles ache from how tightly im grabbing the sheets but somehow the pain fuels my orgasm more as it continues to take control of my body. “Billie stop I think i’m about to—” I can’t get my words out fast enough before the gates open and I pour out all over her chest and fingers, squirting hard. I try to move my hips but she grabs me, holding me where I am as I continue spilling out onto her. Screams meet with the wet sounds of my pleasure and I can’t take it any longer. “Okay okay billie fuck im done, im done” I say as my back returns down on the bed and I feel air fill my lungs again. My legs continue to shake and my pussy clenches around her fingers in a rhythm, like it has a heartbeat of its own.

She lays her head down on my thigh as she slowly pulls her fingers out of me. The movement causes me to groan and shake again, a clear indication of just how overstimulated I am. She looks at me, making sure I’m watching as she licks her fingers clean, moaning at the taste of them. As I sit up on my elbows and watch her lick her lips I look down to see her boobs covered in all my juices, wet and dripping, as sexy as they could possibly be. She catches me looking and smirks. “If I wasn’t so fucked out I would be licking my juices off those sexy boobs” I say with a new found confidence. She crawls up me and kisses me softly, letting my tongue slip between her lips and around hers. “You taste good don’t you baby” she moans, before pulling me tight against her naked wet chest. Our boobs rub together and our connection feels electric. “You know I’ve never squirted before, you’re the first” I say, glowing from all the pleasure I just experienced. “I didn’t even know sex

could feel that good” i laugh admitting it then feeling embarrassed. “Welcome to sex with women” she giggles as the words come out, “I feel lucky to be the first of many for you baby, I’ve been wanting you for so damn long, I gotta admit it” she kisses me on my cheek and grabs my nipple playfully making me yelp. “I been dreaming about this for a long time too, Billie” I confess with a smile, looking back at her. “Good things there’s a whole lot more firsts for me to have” I say playfully as I grab her boob again.

I pull her closer to me, both of us back on our sides facing eachother. I crave a type of intimacy with her that I have avoided with every one of my partners for years. Maybe I really am gay and it’s just because shes a woman. Or, maybe, if I let myself really think about it, its because its Billie. My hand falls over her body onto her bare back and my fingers begin lightly dancing over her skin. She snuggles into me tighter and humms. Being in Billie’s arms feels like home. My cheeks flush as I realize that the love I feel for her is not the love you feel for a friend, it is so so much more than that. Its the type of love that terrifies me, or at least it has in the past. For some reason I don't feel scared at all right now, I feel quite the opposite actually.

I continue rubbing her back as our breathing slows, both melting into one another. She breaks the silence with a silky voice, “I think I could stay like this forever” my heart skips a beat at her confession, bringing a calm warmth throughout my body. “I’d like that a lot Billie” she lifts her head from the crook of my neck just long enough to place a kiss on my forehead, before snuggling back into me tighter. We lay like this for a minute before I interrupt. I giggle quietly to myself and she looks up with a curious expression, her eyebrows knit together but a smirk on her lips, “what the hell are you so giggly about?” she says, laughing with me now. “Does this mean,” I giggle again slightly more bashfully this time, before I continue. “Does this mean I get to learn all about lessssbbiiann sexxxxx with you?” I can’t help but say it in a goofy, slightly mocking tone, emphasising my purposefully ridiculous word choice. “Sure does baby girl, sure doesssssssss” She laughs out, matching the playful energy. “Ooo la la” I sing, pulling a laugh from both of us as we lay back down. I can’t help but feel overwhelming excitement for whats to come.

Should I continue on with the story??

[nemesyaaa]

idkkk if it's because i'm sick but it was really comforting for me to read this. or maybe i love fucked up angry rafe so much !! this was literally so fucking great, i cannot tell how much ! but i love how bold are your readers and didnt stand for rafe's shit. you're always doing such a nice job at this. and tysm for taking the time to writing this, and congrats again for your 5k !!! 💓 You're too good !!!

you slowly lift your head from the window, chancing a glance at rafe. his body is tense, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. you don’t miss the slight tick in his jaw, watching as he clenches and unclenches it, nostrils flaring as his eyes remain on the road, not bothering to even look your way for a second. — i'm sorry but seeing him like that ?? i really need to fuck with him so badly

“just stop fucking talking! can you fucking do that, for once? just stop. fucking. talking,” he pauses, letting out a rough laugh, “i’m just gonna take you home, i can’t stand the sight of you right now, can’t stand your irritating fucking voice.” — anyways, he's so mean before all 😭😭 but damn its just turns me on AT this point

“god you’re fucking infuriating, such a fucking bitch sometimes,” he stops, his eyes flitting down to your lips, reveling in the way they’re slightly parted, loving the way your pulse beats rapidly against his fingers. his lips slightly brush against yours and you squeeze your thighs together. you need him, and you need him now. “what am i gonna do about that little fucking attitude of yours, hmm?” — love when you dirty talk, but also love when you mad talking babe

he lifts his head, cupping your face in his hands as he forces your eyes on his. “i know. i’m sorry too, i love you, y/n. i really fucking do.” — that's m'y crazy boyfriend and i'm his biggest apologist 🫶🏿

okok hot cocoa and a movie w rafe and his gf on a late night drive maybe after a fight?????? 🤗🤗🤗 u can make it smutty or angsty or fluffy

i’m honestly thinking all three, angsty smutty fluff😏🩷

CW: smut! 18+ only! bf!rafe, gf!reader, strong language, slight angst, piv sex, car sex, semi public sex, fluffy ending w soft!rafe<3

join the 5k celly here!

you lean your head against the window of your boyfriends truck, nothing but the low hum of the radio filling the tense silence that surrounds the two of you.

the night was going well, until it wasn’t. you and rafe argued a lot, but it had never reached the point it did tonight. the thoughts of all the harsh things you both spewed at one other makes your chest tighten.

you slowly lift your head from the window, chancing a glance at rafe. his body is tense, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. you don’t miss the slight tick in his jaw, watching as he clenches and unclenches it, nostrils flaring as his eyes remain on the road, not bothering to even look your way for a second.

“rafe…” you whisper, shifting in your seat so you’re facing him completely.

his hard blue eyes glance at you for a second, quickly placing them back on the road before he speaks.

“what, y/n… i’m really not in the fucking mood to talk to you right now.”

you breathe out a sigh, rolling your eyes. “then why the fuck did we go on a drive, huh? if you can’t even fucking talk to me, what was the fucking point in this?”

his hands tighten around the steering wheel once more, a heavy sigh pushing from his chest.

“i needed to fucking clear my head, after you…” he pauses, trying to calm himself before continuing, “fuck, after you said some of the shit you did, throwing low blows about my relationship with my dad my way, telling me that i’m a fuck up, i needed to fucking get out of that house… you are the one who asked to come with me, i would’ve much preferred you stayed home.”

his words hit you hard, slapping you in the face and twisting tightly around your stomach. your face drops, a slight frown on your lips as tears begin to fill your eyes. you know you shouldn’t have thrown his strained relationship with his father in his face, using it as ammo in your ploy to hurt him, and you definitely shouldn’t have called him a fuck up, knowing full well he hears that enough from his father and a few others.

rafe wasn’t a fuck up— far from it actually— you were just so angry, the words spilled from your lips before you could even give them a second thought.

“rafe, i-” you begin, but his loud, booming voice rings through the air, cutting you off.

“just stop fucking talking! can you fucking do that, for once? just stop. fucking. talking,” he pauses, letting out a rough laugh, “i’m just gonna take you home, i can’t stand the sight of you right now, can’t stand your irritating fucking voice.”

you gasp, his words slicing right through your heart.

“fuck you, rafe! god, i’m trying to make things better, but you’re being a fucking dick! and you wonder why i said the shit i said earlier, it’s because you act like this! you’re a fucking child! learn to grow up and communicate.”

rafe slams on the breaks so hard you jolt forward, your palms slapping against the dash of the truck. you push back, eyes narrowed on him. “what the fuck, rafe! are you fucking crazy? fucking drive the truck, now!” you shout, hands shaking and breathing choppy.

he ignores you, simply pressing his foot on the gas and speeding down the road, his tires slightly screeching as he does. you press your back firmly against the seat, arms crossed over your chest as you watch dim street lights and dark outlines of the trees fly by.

rafe makes a sharp right turn, pulling his truck into an empty, dark parking lot. he places the truck in park, quickly killing the engine and tossing the keys to the floorboard. you run a hand down your face, a scoff leaving your lips.

“why the fuck are we here? take me the fuck home.”

he doesn’t answer, his silence slowly grating on your nerves.

“rafe! are you gonna say anythin-”

he cuts off your words, his hand reaching out and wrapping tightly around your throat. you wrap a hand around his wrist, trying to pry him off, but it’s no use. his fingers tighten around the expanse of your neck, pressing firmly into your pulse point. he gives a low hum, leaning his face in close to yours, his warm breath fanning across your face.

“god you’re fucking infuriating, such a fucking bitch sometimes,” he stops, his eyes flitting down to your lips, reveling in the way they’re slightly parted, loving the way your pulse beats rapidly against his fingers. his lips slightly brush against yours and you squeeze your thighs together. you need him, and you need him now. “what am i gonna do about that little fucking attitude of yours, hmm?”

your eyes find his, the normally bright and shining blue now dark. you inch your face closer to his the best you can, and it’s just enough to press your lips against his. rafe groans, releasing your throat, his hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling you further into him. his tongue shoves its way past the seam of your lips, tangling with yours perfectly.

you moan into his mouth, your fingers gripping at the soft fabric of his shirt and pushing him back. both of your heavy breathing fills the cramped space of his truck, your eyes darting across his face, “rafe…” you whisper, but he doesn’t let you say another word.

he fumbles with his belt, pulling it free from his jeans before popping the button and slowly guiding the zipper down. he removes the rough denim from his lower body, his boxers going with them. your mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock, his tip swollen and already dripping with his arousal. he reaches over the center console, hands gripping your hips tightly and yanking you into his lap.

a low groan escapes him when your covered core rubs across his length, making him twitch beneath you. his hands pull at the waistband of your cotton shorts and you lift your hips, allowing him to pull them down your legs. he tosses them into the passenger seat, one hand firmly gripping at your hip while the other fists his cock, jerking himself as he keeps eye contact with you.

“fuck me, rafe. please?”

the words barely leave your lips before he’s pushing the head into your drenched hole, bottoming out in seconds. you both groan in unison, the feel of his large cock stretching you and the way your pussy tightly grips his dick making all the anger from moments ago wash away.

rafe presses his lips against yours, his mouth devouring you as he holds onto your hips, keeping you still as he pounds himself inside you from below. the head of his cock repeatedly hits at that sweet spot inside you, your body shaking in his hold and sweet moans of pleasure falling past your lips.

“r-rafe.. oh, god.” you mumble against his lips.

he pulls back, hard blue eyes on yours as he continues to brutally fuck himself into you. your pussy pulsates around him, your clit throbbing. you remove his hands from your hips, running them up your sides and placing them up your shirt. he cups your breasts, squeezing at them harshly. you begin lifting your hips, slamming yourself back down on him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“fuck, baby. ‘m so sorry, ‘m so fuckin’ sorry.”

you press your forehead against his, your lips beginning to slowly trail across his jaw and down to his neck. your teeth lightly nip at his sweat slick skin, loving the reaction it pulls from him.

“‘m sorry, too, rafe. i love you. fuuuck, i love you.”

your body trembles beneath his hold, rafe’s hands slowly and softly roaming your body, drinking in every bit of you with his hands. “i love you, too.”

the band snaps, your pussy clenching tightly around rafe’s cock, your orgasm rushing through you with a call of his name. rafe isn’t too far behind you, his dick twitching inside you. he shoves himself deep inside you, a raspy moan falling from him as he paints your inner walls white with his seed.

his body falls limp beneath you, his arms wrapped around your waist as you lie your head on his chest. his fingers begin to trace lazy shapes on your back, lips kissing softly at the space between your neck and shoulder.

you break the silence first, “i’m really sorry… i- i didn’t mean anything i said, i just-”

he lifts his head, cupping your face in his hands as he forces your eyes on his. “i know. i’m sorry too, i love you, y/n. i really fucking do.”

you smile down at him, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. he pulls his hands from your face, allowing you to rest your head on his chest again. you find comfort in the silence this time, the strong beat of his heart against your face making your insides warm.

tagging a few moots: @starkeysprincess @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafesangelita @rafeyscurtainbangs @drewsarms @drewsephrry @bloodibambiidoll @babygorewhore @nemesyaaa @httpsdrewstarkey @redhead1180 @rafeinterlude

[starscabaret]

Omg, I love yandere cowboy!! I’ll call him David cause the name Lane reminds me of someoneDavid x a chubby reader? You said he’s careful with the reader but at the same time he’s really strong, right? So, he is kinda rough with her while they make love. Him thinking you being chubby you can take it better. At first it hurts a lot but reader gets used to it and even enjoys it

Cowboy Yandere! Lane  x Chubby Fem Reader  ✧.*

pairing :  yandere! lane x chubby fem reader

summary :  quick drabble to this ask, started this last night, edited the best I could. 

authors note : im still alive just busy with college but, im always happy to answer ask if I have time I am more motivated to write if I know itll bring someone joy, please give me feedback on this, it was a biggg task

warnings : nsfw, teasing, first-time having sex, fingering, slight argument, PIV sex, daddy kink, breeding, mating press, etc

You and Lane had been on a few dates ever since he saw you at your local honky tonk bar, on the county line. Since then you two had been almost inseparable, very much due to Lane’s unabashed obsession with you. He took you on dates very often and spent as much time with you as you allowed when he wasn’t working. He was courting you, yes, but you’d never had anyone lay it on so strong. It was bliss, having someone be all about you, especially your favorite cowboy. Lane insisted on you being his “ol lady” after your first date, but you wanted to give it time, and for you, he yielded… for now. 

With no date or plans with your cowboy arranged for the day, you set out downtown for a day of antique shopping and sweet treats. As you are leaving an ice cream shop, a man stops you.

“Hey Miss, where’d you get the ice cream, I can’t find the place?” the kind stranger asks.

And just as you begin to answer him, you hear an all too familiar roar and hum. 

“Y/N ! Get your little ass in this truck now.” Lane shouts from the window of his truck as pulls up beside you and the man. 

Embarrassed by his outburst you turn to the man, “Two shops down, sorry about that sir, have a good day!” you rush out, running over to the passenger side of Lane’s truck cone in hand. 

As you get in slamming the door, you glare at him before he can even speak, “Lane have you lost your damn mind? Screaming and cursing at me in public!?”

“No, I think YOU have lost your damn mind, you know I don’t like it when you curse little lady, and more importantly who the hell was that guy?” he shoots back at you as he darts off down the road to God knows where. 

“Are you serious right now? Just some fucking guy asking where I got the ice cream from.” you roll your eyes at his possessiveness.

“Serious as a heart attack, sweetheart. Now eat it before it melts,” he commands.

“I thought you had business to take care of today, Lane?” you ask accusingly.

“Did, it’s taken care of now. You are coming to my house; I’m making you supper.” he states.

“Ugh you Brute, didn’t ask, didn’t call or text, you’re lucky I walked downtown.” you sigh out irritated. 

The rest of the ride to Lane’s house was a quiet one as you both brewed in your thoughts and slight irritation with one another. You’d been to his home before, when he took you on a scenic walk and picnic around the property for a date and tried to convince you to move in. 

Once you had arrived and settled in Lane spoke up, “Go in the master bedroom and wash up so you can help me please doll face.”

Once you entered his bedroom, you breathed in deeply, it smelled completely of him, of his manly musky scent that drove you crazy. 

Making your way to his bathroom sink you begin washing your hands, it is not long after that Lane’s tall form is pressed against your plump backside. 

“Hi, honeybee,” he spoke as he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“Hi Lane.” you purred as you leaned into him.

“Come sit with me on the bed, we have time.” he spoke as he took your hand guiding you back into his neat and rustic bedroom. 

Sitting you on his lap he begins to kiss all over your face and down to your neck. Your hands move to wrap around his neck and steady yourself.  

His lips meet yours as his hand presses at the back of your head, as you launch into a searing kiss. Tongues down one another’s throat, as you suck and caress each other’s tongue with urgency. 

The kiss creates a warmth in your core, like everything else about him. You could be embarrassed but it is impossible to not feel him hardening beneath your thighs, letting you know he feels the same. 

He reluctantly pulls away from the kiss to stare you in the eyes, as you both attempt to catch your breath. 

He moves his hands down your body to grope and fondle all of your curves with stars in his eyes. 

“Gorgeous girl,” he murmurs. 

He is so entranced by looking at and squeezing your body, that your moans sound like white noise to him. He also doesn’t notice the dampness caused by your pussy crying for him. Or the darkening spot on the zipper of his blue jeans where his tip began to leak precum. 

What he does notice is you, taking off your top. You’re not sure what urged you to do so. Perhaps it was wanting to show yourself off even more, to make him physically drool over you. 

“Aww sweet girl, getting undressed for me? You want me to see more of your pretty self?” he asks as he continues his hands-on exploration of your body.  

“Ugh yes.” you moan out at his teasing praise.  

“Well let me help,” he says as he stands you both up.  

Before you can move to unbutton your skirt, he is on his knees in front of you, face buried in your soft pudgy tummy, as his fingers knead at the fat. He pecks away the skin as he unbuttons and pulls your skirt down.  

The second your skirt is down, and you are left in your underwear and bra, you expect his eyes to fall on your pussy clad with embarrassingly wet panties, but they don’t, his eyes and hands launch to the fat of your thighs. 

“Pretty, thick thing huh? Just perfect for me, aren’t ya?” he asks as his hands run up and down your legs stopping to grope the fat of your ass cheeks and around your hips.

Dumbfounded, you don’t respond, you just continue to stare down at his handsome face in awe as you caress his short dirty blonde locks. 

He rises up from his knees to tower over you, while taking off his tailored t-shirt revealing his chest and torso that is paler than the rest of him due to hours of toiling in the sun. You eye the raised scar on his chest from what you recognize as a brand, the number 4. You recall he regarded it as his lucky number. 

Once his shirt is removed, he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you closer to him.

“May I?” he asks as he fiddles with the clasp of your bra. 

“Please.” you moan out. 

“Yes mam,” he flashes you his big bright white smile. He was elated at your trust and want for him. It created a feeling of fullness in his chest at having you this way, he hoped to have you fully in every way soon. If he had his way it would have been the day you two met.

Once your bra is removed and discarded somewhere in his room, he gently guides you to lie in the center of his bed. You reach your arms out and whimper, gesturing for him to join you. Missing the warmth of his body against yours, and of his large hands laying tender touches over your plump form. 

“I’m coming sweetheart, don’t rush me.” he breathes out teasingly, staring at you almost naked on his bed as he works on unbuckling his belt and pulling down his jeans. 

You try not to stare at the bulge in his boxers. Lane was a big guy, you weren’t shocked. Your eyes avoided his dick, to keep yourself from jumping his bones. 

Making his way onto his bed, straddling your plump flattened thighs, he continues your make-out session with even more fervor. 

Pulling away he brings your hand to his mouth after trailing his kisses from your mouth, to down your neck, and up your arm, finishing with a darling peck to the back of your hand. 

“You want me?” he asks against your hand.

You move your head to nod but stop yourself as you know Lane will only accept a verbal answer, “Please,” you breathe out, breathless from your arousal and activities.

“Atta girl, Lift up for me” he praises as he moves to slide your panties down your hips and thighs, eventually throwing them somewhere off to the side.

You draw your legs up, feet planted on his bed, spreading your legs, to make room for him between them.

Being naked in front of anyone is enough to give anyone anxiety, but since your first meeting, Lane has done nothing but praise your beauty. Just your smile brought him to his knees, practically begging to cater to your every need. By the time his eyes moved down the rest of your face and body, he was enchanted. He always ensured you had some point of physical contact when together, claiming he couldn’t get enough of his “gorgeous girl”.

Your anxiety was low, you were happy to share your body with him, as he had proved he could be trusted with it. Trusted with you, your heart, your every need. 

One of his big hands moves to spread your folds so he can have a peek, “Ahh look at that pretty flower, you been hiding it from me?” he teases. 

His thumb rubs your clit as his other hand holds you open, so he can see all of you. He refuses to have anything hidden from his view. His thumb gently makes its way down your puffy wet folds, to your hole which throbs at the sight and feel of him. 

As your greedy wet hole practically sucks his thumb in, he groans aloud, “God you’re so pretty Y/N, please say I can have you?”

He peers up at you as his hands continue their exploration of your pussy.

“Yes Lane, I want you,” you respond, throwing your head back into his fluffy white cotton pillows. 

“Daddy’ll take care of ya,” He replies moving up to peck your sweet lips. 

His words didn’t even catch you off guard, it was very clear that Lane was the kind of man to provide, lead, and care for you beyond your wildest dreams. Hence why your relationship was moving fast by your standards, of course still much too slow for him. 

With that promise, Lane began prepping you. He swiftly pulls you into his lap, setting his back against the headboard. You go to lay your legs flat in front of you, having no clue about his goal. He stops you immediately, pulling your back to his front, and splaying each of your legs over his muscular thighs, making you wide open to him. His head comes to rest with his chin on your shoulder, looking down so he can see the mess he is making between your legs. 

You feel two fingers enter you as his thumb prods at your clit again. You are beginning to drip all over his hands and soon his sheets, as he works you like some sort of familiar machine. As you feel your climax approaching, he swiftly removes his fingers. You whine out, wanting, no needing them back in you. 

“Don’t worry doll I’m not done,” he whispers in your ear kissing the side of your face and urging you to look at him. 

He plunges his two middle fingers back into you at an alarming rate. Your blush has spread down your chest at the feeling of him fucking you on his fingers. He continues his brutal pace even as he feels your wetness increase.

He doesn’t even come to a stop when you begin to go stiff in his arms, moaning his name loudly repeatedly as your orgasm forces your thighs to tremble and try to close around him. 

“Please Lane” you beg.

“Please what sweet girl?” he hums and asks as his fingers slow.

“You, want you.” you breathe out.

“You know I can’t say no to you” he winks as he takes you off his lap, laying you on the bed.

On his knees between your legs, he removes his boxers and you don’t know what to look at first. 

His large cock is hard and dripping between the deep v shape of his muscular hips, It’s covered in short almost blonde tufts of hair at the base. His balls swing beneath it like they’d been aching for you.

He comes in closer to you, leaning over you, centering himself between your thighs. He lays his dick on your soft fat tummy. Going past your belly button, and letting you feel the warmth, throb, and weight of him.

You both gaze down at the sight in awe, letting out moans and groans at the erotic image. You have to bite your finger to keep yourself from begging him to fuck you.

His hand wraps around it giving it a few strokes before he’s tapping the heavy tip at your clit. 

He groans and moves his other hand to grope one of your breasts as he continues to move his tip through your folds, coating himself in your arousal.

“Beautiful tits, beautiful pussy, beautiful tummy, could you be any more perfect for me?” he speaks up while looking into your eyes. 

“Glad you like it,” you breathe out biting your lip.

“Like it? No, I love it, I adore it, sweetheart. Matter of fact I’m more sure than ever of you being mine. My ol lady, my girlfriend, my boo, whatever you wanna call it. You’re mine. That means no more talking to random fuckers in the street, and no more cursing.” He states hand on the side of your neck rubbing his thumb over the column of your delicate throat. 

You truly didn’t realize how upset he was by earlier events until he slid his whole length into you at once. His hips meeting yours. His bush tickles your clit. Causing you to moan out and your hole to seize around him. He let out the deepest groan you had ever heard from him. 

You could only respond, “Yes Daddy” while sucking in a sharp breath. Even if his possessive almost controlling nature upset you, you did not care in the moment. You were the fullest, wettest, and warmest you’d ever been and it was because of him.

“That’s right darling, and you won’t be bad again. Ill make sure of it.” He responds with hearts in his eyes but sternness in his tone.

He really meant it, pulling his hips all the way out just to slam back into you in seconds. You were wet enough, and he felt your pussy wrapped around him begging for him to move. You knew that Lane was strong as an ox. All-American football player, horse rider, champion bull rider, and all-around farm boy, it wasn’t until now that you realized just how strong his hips, and legs were. He was absolutely plowing you, better than any field. 

He felt so good inside of you, as his dick kept stroking, and rubbing every spot inside you. His strong arms caged you underneath him, as he bent down to kiss your lips, never once slowing in the pace or strength of his thrust. 

You open your mouth to tell him to slow down, to pull out, to let up, but your brain short circuits with him inside of you fucking you so thoroughly. It is not long till his headboard is slamming against the wall with every thrust, which would drown out the sound of anything you had to say.

He continues his powerful thrust only slowing to move your positions a little bit. Now you can catch your breath to speak up, “ ’s too much Lane please, my pussy is gonna hurt.” you breathe out, not mentioning any pain. The pain that did come from the stretch and sheer force was not so much that it interfered with your pleasure at all. 

“Whaddya mean too much doll? I picked you for a reason, I know you’re strong, firm, plump, and beautiful. Perfect for me to use how we both want.” he coos at you as he moves your position into a mating press.

“Don’t tell me you can’t take a dick? A beautiful well-built woman like you?” He asks as he brings his hips up high and all the way back down into you in your new position. 

You give no answer at first too cock drunk, at the feel of him in this new position. You thought you were full before but by god, you thought you might die as his balls hit your tight ass hole, and his muscular thighs held down your own. You couldn’t see him entering you, he was so big and going so fast. All you could see was your tits bouncing over your chubby folded-over body, and his over yours holding your legs up. 

With his arms still wrapped around your legs he falls onto you bringing his chest down to yours, you smell his heady, manly scent, making you moan out at each thrust he gives you. 

His hips do all the work as he continues slamming into you with loud plaps, you hardly notice the drops of both your arousals squirting all over your tummy from the impact. 

“Huh? Making you feel good yeah?” he moans into your neck, his face pressed passionately against yours in an effort to prevent himself from spilling inside you.

Now that was a question you could answer, “Yes!” you scream out as you pulse around his cock. 

“See doll, Daddy knows what he’s doing.” He pulls away to smirk at you. You feel your stomach and your hole begin to quiver around him. With him on top there’s not much you can do to brace yourself except wrap your arms around his neck above you. 

Recognizing the feel of you around him, he keeps at the same pace, his tip hitting the same spot inside of you over and over again. 

You tighten your arms around his neck and hold him close to you as you cum all over his dick. 

“Atta girl” he groans pecking you on your pursed lips. With his hand on your jaw as his thumb lovely brushes over your face, he continues pushing and pulling out of your pussy at a slower pace. You watch as his eyes move down to watch the way he splits you open as your hole still breathes around him. 

It’s not long before he pushes into you with renewed strength. With one last harsh thrust, he buries himself inside of you cumming in his little flower. 

His groan is loud as he falls on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You were perfect, more than I ever could have imagined. Ya okay doll?” he asks turning to you breathing heavily. 

“Yes, lane felt so good” you mewl out, “It’ll hurt when you pull out.” you remark, still feeling him inside of you. 

“To be expected, ya took me so well.” He smirks. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it sweetheart, as soon as I pull out you’ll feel my cum dripping out, that’ll cool ya down.”

“Then I’ll take you to the bath, wash you up, bring you back to bed, and give er’ some kisses, how’s that sound?” he asks.

Caught up in your ethereal look of bliss, after your lovemaking and orgasm, he can’t stop admiring and kissing your hot blushing face. His smile can’t be contained, having you in that way made his heart beat faster than any strenuous activity. You let him have you fully. To take care of you stirred something in him, he could only compare to raising up animals, a good harvest, or a job well done.  

It was now, he realized you’d forever be his favorite thing to care for, his pride and joy. He’d stop at nothing to make you the most kept woman in the world. For the rest of his life, any of his success would be to impress and provide for you. 

[just-j-really]

Additional Dreamling hanahaki AU idea, which I am fond of enough to make its own post:

Hob fell hard for Dream in 1489, and unfortunately immediately got hanahaki about it. Fortunately, it's a weirdly manageable level of hanahaki. Like, the immortality bit definitely helps, but it progresses much slower than your average case of hanahaki, and it seems to reset, or at least get markedly better, every time he sees Dream.

He still never gets a chance to tell Dream about it. In 1589 he's got a five-step 'Impress him. Have a conversation with him that isn't about immortality. Flirt a little. Use whatever information I get to figure out if I can seduce him. Go from there.' plan that just immediately goes to shit. It's the least of his worries in 1689, in 1789 he doesn't have the chance, and in 1889 he attempts to reach out again (less a calculated 'sweep him off his feet' this time and more a 'hey, we're friends, do you ever see the possibility of us being something more?') and of course Dream balks at the friends part and that goes to hell.

An then 1989 rolls around, Dream doesn't show up, and the once-a-century reset button Hob had been depending on just. Doesn't happen.

He's in bad shape when Dream finally shows up thirty-odd years later.

Eventually Dream gets the whole story out of him (it takes a bit- Hob is afraid of scaring him off again, and once Dream tells Hob why he missed their meeting, Hob's got the additional worry of 'how to explain without making him feel even worse about being imprisoned for over a century').

And once Dream does get the explanation, he immediately connects the dots incorrectly: hanahaki is born of unrequited love, and Hob always seems to recover from his case whenever he sees Dream. This of course means that being subjected to the full force of Dream's unloveable terrible self is causing Hob's feelings for Dream to wane. So he decides to meet up with Hob more often (but not too often, he wants Hob to still want to be his friend, even if those romantic feelings fade).

Cue a horrific misunderstanding. The facts of the situation are that A: Dream is slowly falling in love with Hob. He'd been nursing a tiny little potential crush for centuries, hence their meetings giving Hob that little reprieve, but he only starts actually falling for him when they start spending time together. This means that B: Hob is recovering. It also means that C: Hob's feelings are getting exponentially, monumentally worse by virtue of having his crush nearby so often, and occasionally looking at Hob as though he could possibly feel the same way.

Dream, only aware of points A and B, has confirmed his suspicion that he's horrible and unlovable and his presence has caused Hob to stop loving him. (And like. Yes. The other conclusion, that Hob's recovering because his feelings are requited, is, in fact, right there. Dream is far too primed to believe himself unlovable to make that leap.) He's also having a Real Bad Time emotionally because he's DEVASTATED that Hob doesn't love him anymore and also just. So, so glad to see Hob healthy. The Dreaming is experiencing freak thunderstorms midway through, and occasionally at the same time as, perfect sunny days.

Hob, only aware of points B and C, is confused. He's still in love, so that can't be what's caused his recovery, and Dream hasn't mentioned returning Hob's feelings, so clearly that can't be it either. Dream's some sort of eldritch god-being, it makes as much sense as anything that he can somehow suppress hanahaki. And Hob can live with that, he's perfectly happy with Dream as his friend. (Honestly he's probably three quarters of the way to figuring it out, if nothing else Dream keeps bringing him gifts and it's beginning to make him suspicious, but he just... doesn't think Dream would withhold that information when he knows Hob's unrequited love was factually killing him.)

Thus follows months of mutual pining. They're essentially living together, at least from Hob's perspective- Dream meets him after work, unless he has some other plans, and sticks around until he falls asleep. He's not there when Hob wakes up, but it's overall absurdly similar to living with a partner who works early mornings. Hob is also Having Some Feelings about this.

Thing is, though, they're getting closer (despite the fact that Hob is clearly falling out of love with Dream), and Dream ends up eventually explaining who/what he is.

And then-

"Oh," Hob says. "Is that how you're doing this?"

"Doing what?" Dream asks, nonplussed. They're in the Waking world, at a table in the back corner of the New Inn. Dream isn't doing much besides keeping a curious eye on one of the bartenders' daydreams of social media stardom, and even then, he's not sure how Hob would know that.

"No," Hob says, his voice low. "How you cured me. I've been dreaming of a cure for centuries, did you make that come true, somehow?"

A rush of hurt and anger nearly overpowers Dream, but Hob's looking at him with such genuine, earnest curiosity, a touch of admiration, and he realizes the truth. Hob wouldn't be the first person to fall out of love with Dream and fail to realize it, continuing to go through the motions until every trace of affection for Dream was destroyed.

He isn't sure if it's for his own sake or for Hob's that he says, "Have you considered that there may be an ordinary cause for your recovery?" and waits for the sword to fall.

"Oh," Hob whispers. Dream watches as the realization dawns on his face, only- he doesn't look disgusted, or angry, or disappointed. There's relief there, yes, which Dream had expected. He hadn't excepted joy, but there it is, the same all-encompassing happiness he sees every time he asks Hob what he thinks of his immortality.

Dream should not resent this. Loving him has only caused Hob pain, he should not resent that it is a joy for him to be freed. Still, it takes all his strength to keep the storm that is currently drenching the Dreaming from manifesting in his physical form.

He must not succeed, because Hob's expression is slowly shuttered by worry. "You're sure?" he asks, quietly.

Even when Dream had found him all those months ago, flowers clogging his lungs, unable to seek help for fear of what his fellow humans might do to him, he had not looked this fragile.

"I am Dream," he admits, staring at Hob's hand where it rests next to his on the table. As though it could make this any easier if he refuses to look at Hob's face. "It is not within my power to cure you in the Waking."

Silence. Far too much silence; if there is one thing Hob should not be, it is silent.

Hob's hand reaches out to cover Dream's, gentle as snow covering a corpse.

"Oh, love," he says, his voice just as gentle, "You did."

In a sense, yes, he had, by proving to Hob that he was not a creature to be loved. But if that were true, then why-

"I should have said something," Hob says. "Weeks ago, I should have-" He cuts himself off and squeezes Dream's hand, sending a shock of hope through Dream; he's discovered that the person he'd thought to be dead in the snow is still breathing. And Hob's hand is warm, a hearthfire when he'd lingered so long in the cold.

"Dream," Hob says, as solemn as Dream has ever heard him, "I have never stopped loving you."

He says it with the same certainty he'd told Dream, centuries ago, that he had too much to live for, and once again Dream can only stare at him in awe. There are very few things that a creature such as Dream might consider a miracle, but Hob, he thinks, is one of them. Perhaps one day he will find the words to tell him so.

For now, he threads his fingers with Hob's.

(and then they very slowly and cautiously start up a romantic relationship, Dream very worried that Hob will stop loving him and Hob very worried that Dream will get scared and leave, each of them trying to gently reassure the other that no I love you I'll stay as long as you want me. and eventually they both realize that they're on the same page there, and 'as long as you want me' is 'forever')

[ailurostheendless]

Now that i think about It genuinely makes me anxious and sad knowing that they weren't in season 1 meaning in original timeline something happened after 1938. They either were killed or had to go away for some reason because you can see they really were loyal and adored Rang as their leader. Even complimenting Lee Rang as a leader who unlike other leaders treated them equally with what they get. So I imagine something really bad must have happened since Rang seems to be alone and didn't want anyone around him and it seemed like it had been years since he's been alone, Yuri had been in Rang's life around 5 year so I think probably soon after 1938 he lost the bandit in orginal timeline. What i think is they died due to some conflict or some reasons why Rang in season 1 seemed more vary of caring for anyone. Like he rescued the dog in season 1 and Yuri but wanted them to go away after he rescued then because he knows the pain of loosing and didn't want to be weak again and responsible for again releasing from their pain from his own hands (which seeing the end of season 1 where he had to kill Yeon all the more worse for him I'm surprised he didn't just k*ll himself with all the suicidal tendencies but then again technically he did since he gave away his life for Yeon). The puppy he rescued definitely reminds him of his own puppy he had to kill as a kid because of the pain it was in the mountain fire human put and was reluctant to keep Yuri around after rescuing her in both of fear and probably experienced loosing the bandit group horribly most likely and also because since the contractor was around with life debt on Rang he didn't want Yuri to be dragged in. Which makes sense because Yuri barely knew anything related to Rang and his life contractor she wasn't around or involved with Imoogi until she wanted to rescue Rang from a fatal injury. There's also that there is good chance the contractor had something to do with keeping Rang alone. Did he have a hand in Rang loosing the bandit either killed or maybe being driven away by the contractor and the contractor uses that to manipulate Rang more.

Honestly the original timeline seems so grim for Rang I'm honestly more curious what else happened when Yeon wasn't around Rang because there's a lot tha happened to Rang during Yeon's absence like after the Mountain was in fire and then there's a huge time skip of him killing people mechanically? Like he's not even himself? Why wait so long to kill the villagers? Something clearly happened to trigger him but we don't know.

Where was he ? How was he surviving? Was anyone with him? And the contractor was suspiciously on time to find a dying Rang even though Yeon thinks Rang survived because he missed Rang's vital point but Rang only survived due to the contractor finding him right on time to use cherry tree soul fruit to save his life putting him in life contractor. I wish at least in season 3 they explore that because we know Rang hates showing weakness and likley didn't tell Yeon. Because for him what's important is Yeon tried to not kill him then (which is depressing really)

Meaning the contractor knew ? Was he following Rang the entire time ? Did he do something to push Rang to kill? Did he know Yeon would miss the mark but fail to save Rang and use that to save Rang himself to kill? Is that why Yeon wasn't able to find Rang once his punishment was done?

Anyways so many questions around Rang's whereabouts. Honestly i would love to see a sequel series of original timeline and what transpired whenever he was alone after the mountain burned down. I want to see everything from then to present times without bigger plotholes to make the ml look better please. Like God the more seasons we get i honestly just have more questions on what happened to Rang in original timeline.

This moment in the second episode made me laugh out loud. 

The relationship Lee Rang has with his gang makes me weirdly proud of him. He felt abandoned but managed to find a group of people to surround himself with.

[dissapointu]

Hi! Thanks for sharing your writing!

Can you do something with Sevika's lover losing their arm? Instead of her for once. Wlw of course if you please.

Thank you 😊

Oh my god. OKAY. So picture this: Sevika’s gf, who is like this totally badass mechanic/inventor type (think Piltover vibes, but she defected to Zaun because screw the system), loses her arm in this crazy accident while working on some sketchy tech for Silco. Like one second she’s welding, and the next, there’s this explosion of smoke and sparks, and BAM, she’s down. Sevika rushes in, her heart like pounding out of her chest, and finds her girlfriend all bloody and barely conscious, clutching what’s left of her arm. (Cue Sevika screaming “NOOOO!” like she’s in some tragic romance novel.)

Fast forward to a dark and moody Zaun clinic, where Sevika’s pacing the room while her gf is passed out on some rickety table, and oh my GOD, the angst is real. Sevika blames herself because, duh, she’s the one who got her mixed up with Silco and his dangerous shenanigans. When her gf finally wakes up, Sevika’s sitting at her bedside, looking like she hasn’t slept in DAYS, and she’s like:

“I told you to leave that damn tech alone.”

And her gf, because she’s a literal queen who takes no nonsense, just smirks (even though she’s in literal PAIN) and goes, “What? And miss the chance to impress you?”

LIKE PLEASE. Sevika does the whole clenching her jaw to hold back tears thing because she’s in love and terrified all at once. She doesn’t know how to be soft, but this is her person. So, naturally, she offers her own tech contacts to build her girlfriend a prosthetic. (Her whole “I’ll kill anyone who hurts you” vibe is now directed at literally anyone who so much as looks at her gf wrong.)

The best part? When her gf gets the prosthetic arm, it’s all sleek and Zaun-punky, but she adds a little twist—she incorporates Sevika’s iconic mechanical arm design. Now they’re matching, and everyone in Zaun knows not to mess with them because they’re THE power couple, like the ultimate ride-or-dies.

Bonus: Silco sees them together and just shakes his head because Sevika is soft for one (1) woman in this entire grimy city, and it’s absolutely hilarious to him.

Drabble:

You’re in the workshop, grease smeared on your cheek and fingers blackened from hours of work. The humming of machinery fills the space as you tweak the last bolt on your latest invention, a device you convinced Silco would “revolutionize Zaun.” (You might have exaggerated. Just a little.)

Sevika’s in her usual spot, leaned back in a rickety chair with her boots up on the table, sharpening her stupid blade like it’s some ritual. She’s watching you out of the corner of her eye—she always watches you like that, half-annoyed, half-amused, and completely impossible to read.

“Careful with that thing,” she mutters, her voice low and gravelly, like she already knows something’s going to go wrong.

“You’re always so dramatic,” you shoot back, smirking. You’re trying to act casual, but the truth is, you love when she gets protective like this. It makes you feel…seen. Loved. Even if she sucks at saying it.

But then—BOOM.

The world tips sideways. There’s a flash of light, deafening noise, and pain that hits you like a train. You’re thrown backward, slamming into the wall, and everything goes dark.

When you come to, your whole body is screaming, but it’s your arm—your missing arm—that sends the panic crashing down. You try to move it, try to feel it, but there’s nothing there. Just a horrifying emptiness.

“Stay still,” Sevika’s voice cuts through the haze. She’s crouched beside you, her usually calm expression twisted into something raw and panicked. Her hands are covered in your blood—your blood—and for a second, you think you’re hallucinating because Sevika doesn’t panic. She doesn’t let her guard down like this.

“I told you,” she growls, her voice shaking, “I told you to stop messing with that damn tech.”

But there’s no bite in her words, no anger. Just fear.

You try to smile, to make some joke about how she was right (again), but it comes out as more of a pained gasp. Her hand—her good one—clutches yours, holding on like she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

The recovery is hell. Sevika doesn’t leave your side for days, barely sleeping, barely eating. You don’t talk about it, but you know she blames herself. She keeps muttering things like, “Should’ve stopped you,” and, “Never should’ve let you work for him.”

One night, after hours of silence, you finally snap.

“Stop looking at me like I’m broken,” you say, your voice sharper than you intend.

Sevika freezes, her jaw clenching. “I don’t—”

“You do.” You sit up, wincing, and glare at her. “I’m still me, Sev. I’m not some…half-person because of this.” You gesture toward the stump where your arm used to be.

For a long moment, she just stares at you, her face unreadable. Then, quietly, she says, “You scared the hell out of me.”

Her voice cracks on the last word, and it breaks something inside you. She’s not Sevika, the enforcer, the muscle, the unshakable badass everyone’s terrified of. Right now, she’s just…Sevika. The woman who loves you so much it hurts.

Weeks later, when you’re fitted with a prosthetic (one Sevika personally made sure was perfect), you can’t help but laugh when you notice the design.

“It matches your arm,” you tease, wiggling your new fingers.

“Figured we’d make a good pair,” she says with a smirk, but there’s something soft in her eyes. Something she won’t say, but you can feel it all the same.

[biapascal]

I have a request pretty pls 🙏 could you maybe write a lil sumn about the reader/oc being married to acacius in a diplomatic marriage to prevent war and show that her country surrenders and they sent her as like a prisoner of war/hostage princess situation. the reader/oc loves Marcus but doesn't think he'd choose to love her over roman beauties and Marcus doesn't want to force her into anything bc of the politics. With like whole lots of yearning, jealousy, angst and oh, more yearning, and the delicious most happiest of endings pls pls pls

Hi honey! 🫶🏻✨ I hope this is enough 🪶

Duties

Tw: forced marriage, loss of virginity mentioned.

First, they killed your soldiers while destroying your city. You saw the streets you walked in your childhood reduced to ruins. The houses were graveyards. They have taken everything and everyone away from you, even from your family. When they brought you to Rome, you were apparently too pretty to be killed. You could have been a slave, but the emperors had other plans for you. You became the general's wife. As your husband, your life was his property as well as your body. In Rome, before the wedding, the girl is supposed to leave everything from her childhood home behind. You couldn't do that because you had nothing left. They took care of you on your wedding day. You had to be a pretty thing for your future husband, nothing more than a doll, like one of those you used to play with as a child. During the ceremony, Acacius was stoic. You were forced to smile and had the impression that he knew this, but couldn't tell what he thought about it. It was almost as if marriage to a beautiful woman was a duty and not a gift from the gods. You were then taken to the house of Marcus for the last rites that would lead to the loss of your dignity. Paradoxically, your husband should have cleansed you with spring water. Meanwhile, the thalamus was prepared. Crocus flowers, considered by the Romans to be a powerful aphrodisiac, were scattered on it. After these rites, you were undressed by an older maid, who also removed ornaments and jewelry that could be dangerous to your husband. you were naked, shivering, your eyes colder than your body. Your sight was blurry and you tried not to look at him. "Can we blow out the candles?" you asked the maid. She shook her head. "You have to see him, now I'll leave you two alone." You finally looked at Marcus and you didn't care that he was a trained general, you would never let that man deflower you. You would rather be killed than to have to carry his child. "Just kill me already, because you are not taking me tonight" you spat. He didn't react. You reached for something to cover your shaking body and jumped when you felt his hand on your arm. "I'm not going to take your virginity tonight." Your expression hardened. "Be a good wife, do as I say, go where I suggest, but know that I won't rape you.” He seemed so serious, you almost couldn't believe it. Then he also covered himself. "Now lie down” he ordered. You slowly did as he said. "Tomorrow they will ask you what happened tonight. Lie, tell them it was painful" you nodded, holding your breath. You fell asleep crying, but you were glad he didn't touch you. The next day, as expected, everyone asked about the first night of marriage. Lying wasn't hard, the other women believed you right away. Life in Rome was depressing. You missed your hometown, the way your people used to act, the typical food. You missed your family, the laughter of the children, your own laughter. Every night Marcus was aware of it and heard you sobbing. He knew it was his fault. The emperors wanted a Roman world, without borders. He was forced to kill and take things from people, but he was not used to it. With you he was gentle, you found yourself searching for him more than once, and you hated yourself for it. "Can I talk to you?" You were in the garden, praying to your ancestors. You nodded and he sat down. "The Romans are greedy. We don't want freedom, we want power."

"We?" you caught him off guard. "No, actually I don't care about power, but I don't expect you to believe me" you gave him a lame smile. "I have to do what the emperors want, and what they wanted back then was your city.” He apologized and you couldn't forgive him. But you felt he was being honest.

February came, the month of rebirth, the Romans had to pay homage to the god Lupercus, and you were still a virgin. the passage to adulthood and the fertility of women was celebrated. Rome was chaotic and several women and men approached you. It was clear that you wanted Marcus to be with you. You couldn't find him and were pulled into the middle of the crowd. He had always given you the impression of being a man true to his own integrity. But you did not know if he was in a brothel on this occasion. "The General's wife!" Two men grabbed your hand and you tried to free yourself. "Come on" they dragged you away from the crowd, and you begged them to let you go. "You should be used to this" one of them said. They were beginning to get irritated with your stubbornness. They were in a hurry to have a look at you and consume you. “Let me enjoy my wife” Marcus arrived. “Won’t you share her with us?” He kissed your cheek and shook his head. "No, I won't share my treasure." You felt strange, you really enjoyed that touch. After that night, you began to soften and you began to know your husband more and more. He was tired, he didn't care about expanding the empire, he just wanted to rest. He was kind to almost everyone, except the emperors. He was wise. He taught you about his ancestors, and you gained the courage to tell him about yours. The nights became your favorite time, you spent hours talking and learning from each other. This was your yearning for intimacy. One night you felt like there were other things you wanted to know, other ways to know him. "I have to be honest with you, Marcus" he nodded. "I'm glad you're my husband. You told me to follow your instructions, but what you have done these months is let me grieve, you have even protected me. Am I still a gift of war or something else?" He approached, his face dangerously close to yours. You felt your cheeks burn crimson. "No” he looked at your lips. "If I may, I'd like to kiss you." You nodded and then felt it. The fear was gone, the mourning was done.

[woozisguitar]

happy fuckin' birthday

pairing: jihoon x reader (afab)

warnings: kissing, swearing, suggestive towards the end so MDNI, bad bad ideas

word count: 1.2k

a/n: happy birthday to my girlfriend, husband, princess, the real love of my life, lee jihoon. idk what id do without you, my loverboy. everyday im so grateful you and me exist in the same timeline. please always be happier than me <3 (lowercase intended and not beta)

the fast bustling and the faint smell of coffee, which once felt intimidating, now feels like home. it’s been 8 months since you were last here, and god, you missed this. the overseas project took longer than anticipated, but none of that matters now that you’re back with the one you love. you slowly make your way to the floor where his studio is, trying to be as lowkey as possible. see, the thing is, you were supposed to arrive a week later, but the project wrapped up early, and there was no reason for you to stay away from your lover on his birthday. cue a last-minute birthday surprise which only you and his manager knew about.

when the elevator opened on his studio floor, you came face to face with none other than kwon soonyoung. soonyoung is a close friend, but you knew his hyperactivity would give away your plans in a second.

“yn, what are you—”

“shhhhhhhhhhh!” you shushed soonyoung, pulling him into the elevator and pressing the button to the top floor.

“dude, what the hell are you doing back so early?”

“jihoon’s birthday. the project wrapped up, and there was no reason for me to miss it,” you explained and saw a smile creeping up on your friend’s face.

“so, i’m guessing he doesn’t know?”

“nope. i planned this so last minute i’m not even sure if he’s free today.”

“he’s free. working as usual,” soonyoung rolled his eyes, “but i think i have an idea.”

“uh-oh.”

“so your great idea was to tell everyone except jihoon that i’m here? way to keep things lowkey, soonie,” you rolled your eyes, trying to figure out which idea would involve all 12 of jihoon’s members and his manager.

“nooo,” he dragged out the 'o', “the great idea is that we will distract him and sneak you into the studio where you can hide. then, once we leave, you can surprise him!”

“or give him a heart attack and an early death, which would be one hell of a birthday gift,” seungkwan commented, side-eyeing soonyoung.

“well, do you have a better idea?” seungkwan slowly shook his head no. “that’s what i thought. anyways, yn, trust me—he will like this.”

you gave his idea a second thought. well, it’s not like you had something better in mind anyway.

“god, this better work, soonyoung, or i’ll have your head.”

so the idea was indeed stupid.

the plan was that jihoon’s manager would first enter the studio to discuss next week’s schedule, and once he gave you a thumbs-up, the members would all file in and ‘discuss the latest album.’ 12 men filing in to talk at the same time about the same thing? totally not suspicious.

but somehow, this was the best bet you had. so now you were outside the universe factory with the members, waiting for jihoon’s manager to give a thumbs-up. after what felt like an eternity (it was 5 minutes), his manager emerged and gave a subtle thumbs-up.

this was truly starting to feel more and more stupid as the plan progressed.

“everyone ready?” whispered mingyu, and the others nodded in confirmation. slowly, they all started to file in, and you heard them greet jihoon. once all of them were inside, you slowly peeped in to see them form a subtle wall between jihoon and the back of the couch where you were planning to hide.

slowly, you crept in, crouching low and making your way toward the back of the couch. you heard the boys discuss concepts and styles they wanted to try out for the new album. from this angle, it looked like jihoon was undergoing an intervention, and you stifled a small giggle at the mental image. after making sure you were hidden properly behind the couch, you slowly peeked out from the side to see jihoon between jun’s and dino’s legs.

god, he looks so pretty, were your first thoughts. it had been 8 months since you last saw him in person, felt his touch, and kissed his lips. you wanted nothing more than for this plan to be over so you could kiss your boyfriend. you slid back into your hiding spot and texted soonyoung that you were in place. you heard his phone buzz and received a thumbs-up in response.

the members slowly started to wrap up their ‘discussion’ and leave the studio after making some kind of excuse. if jihoon noticed their weird behavior, he sure as hell didn’t comment on it. once all the members left, you slowly peeked out again to see jihoon turned to his computer with his headphones in place. you could hear the loud bass from his headphones and made a mental note to reprimand him about it later.

you crawled from your hiding spot toward jihoon’s chair. from your position, you saw seokmin, soonyoung, and seungkwan hiding behind a partially obstructive door, phones already recording. you quietly rose to your feet, making sure not to touch anything that could alert him to your presence. you leaned down and pressed a small kiss to his cheek.

“happy birthday, baby.”

jihoon jumped from his chair, arms raised to fight whoever broke in. his sudden movement shook you off balance, and you grabbed his now discarded chair to stabilize yourself.

“calm down—it’s me!” you exclaimed, giggling at his confused face.

“y/n,” jihoon blinked, lowering his hands, “what..? i don’t...?”

you heard booseoksoon giggling outside and yelled at them to leave you two alone. once you heard the door click shut, you got closer to jihoon, pressing another kiss to his nose.

“yes, y/n, you dork.”

“you’re here.”

“mhm.”

“you’re actually here? i’m not, like, hallucinating or anything, right?” jihoon blinked, trying to figure out what was happening, making you giggle.

“yes, yes, i’m actually here.”

upon hearing this, jihoon grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, nuzzling his face into your neck. “what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be back next week.”

“well, you see,” you hugged him tighter, “i finished the project early and had a lovely guy waiting for me on the other side of the world. and i wanted to celebrate his birthday with him.”

“you did this all for me?” he breathed out.

“of course. who else would i do this for?”

jihoon shook his head, falling back into his chair and dragging you to straddle him.

“god, i fucking missed you,” he said, pulling you in for a heated kiss.

all the months of missing, yearning, and longing manifested in desperate kisses shared between the two of you. you slid your fingers into his hair while his found home in the curve of your waist, pulling you into him. jihoon slid his tongue into your mouth while you started to slowly grind yourself against him. he let out a moan, prompting you to keep grinding, feeling yourself heat at the core. jihoon’s moans grew louder as you felt him harden below you.

“wait,” you pulled back breathless, “not yet.”

“mhmm..?” jihoon made a confused sound at the lack of contact. his eyes were blown with desire, and his fingers held you close, almost as if he were worried you’d disappear.

“i want to give you your first birthday present,” you smirked mischievously, getting off his lap and kneeling in front of him.

“what are you...oh.”

jihoon leaned back, a sigh escaping his lips. “well, happy fucking birthday to me.”

and after a series of birthday ‘gifts,’ it was indeed a happy birthday.

a/n: heh sorry for teasing but I really do wish 100000/10 that jihoon gets the best birthday head he deserves one so bad (I volunteer as tribute-)

[hermesserpent-stuff]

Potential script idea for billy batson s radio show segment

The whizz radio intro tones-

Billy Batson then starts speaking through a slightly crackly radio as Fawcett is a city someone lost to time, given its connection to the Rock of Eternity.

---

Welcome to WHIZZ Radio: where we give the latest news, truths, and view in Fawcett City. Brought to you by your host, me, billy Batson.

Starting off with community news, make sure to visit the shrine of Atlas sometime this week with an offering. Cap mentioned that there might be a need for endurance next week, and we should all probably listen. Additional reminder, the festival of Zeus will be happening this Saturday. Stay away from odd looking geese, metal poles and don't fulfill any selfcrearting proficies in a fit of hubris.

Onto traffic!

Main Street and Fifth Avenue are both still under construction from Dr. Sivannas attack and the demon portal last Thursday and Friday. Ms. Marvel and Cap. both played a role in clearing the debris, but there are still major cracks and fissures to Hades. Expect delays.

Now the weather.

Today's forecast includes thick over cast clouds; a good time for summoning souls. Be sure to greet both the living in the dead while going about your day and don't for get that umbrella! There is a slight chance of curses with intermittent showers.

Alright! Time to quickly cover the Capes and Crooks news bulletin. Dr. Sivanna is still missing after his recent bout with Cap. Since he interrupted one of Mercury's races down at the track, no one is quite sure when the Roman god took him. If you happen to see him, please be sure to give Cap a ring to come pick him up.

Keep your eyes peeled for Mr. Mind. The worm escaped prison… again. Holy moly. You'd think they'd make better prisons for him. What is this, the fourth time in two weeks?

*Noise indistinct*

I know, I just figured that out listeners would likely have the same comment. I don't see why I shouldn't point it out of its true

*Indistinct noise again*

Alright! Fine. Moving on from that.

Today's radio broadcast is brought to you by Saturn's candy. Nothing so sweet as a stick of magic you can eat! Try their Caramel cookie candy bars, now with cooked in bloodline curse protect. If your looking for a spot of luck, try their cinnamon apply candy sticks. Saturn's candy. A proud sponsor of WHIZZ Radio!

*Little jingle*

Welcome back to the program. Time for our sister citys segment.

This reporter has just been told by his producers to issue an apology to Black Adam for statements said during this segment of yesterday's broadcast.

*An aside*

Do I have too?

*Indistinct noise*

Fine.

I am. Sorry. For calling you a craized up old fart with too much free time.

There.

Moving on!

Kahndaq currently is continuing negotiations with both the Justice League and the UN to gain a seat at the UN table. Or be allowed in the UN room. While Fawcett recognizes Kahndaq as sovereign, the rest of the world stills sees the country as illegitimate.

Aside from tense meetings, and Black Adam being a kook who keeps coming to mess with Cap due to having a grudge unbecoming of a literal king and ancient man child, Kahndaq is doing fine. The economy is flourishing, despite limited imports and exports due to sanctions. The letters sent by Fawcetts finest and kindest citizens were well received and we should hear back soon if Mercury has anything to do with it.

It's time once again for Billy's opinion of the day.

This week!

Cans and their many used.

Not only do cans offer one of the best ways to have long term storable food, but they also make awesome weapons! We got to see this on Friday when Marvel Jr. and Captain Marvel went toe to toe with demons using a barrage of cans. And the food was still good to eat after the fight!! I love it when things are multi purposed. Now if only they could close the rifts down to Hades…

*Chimes*

Oh! Mercury just dropped a fresh bit of mail! Thank you Mercury! Watch out for old men wandering around. It seems like the Greek and Roman gods are looking to bless and curse some folks today.

Do good, and good will follow.

And keep an eye on the sky for lightning!

This has been Billy Batson, signing off!

[sasageyoarmin]

hellooooooo

can i request number 89 «YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING»from the dialogue prompt list for the lawyer armin series

love yaaa

hi love!! yes yes yes this is such a good prompt :)

for anyone wondering, this prompt is for my new lawyer!armin series and comes from this prompt list !!

<3

"i miss you <3."

The message on Armin's phone lit up, the sound of the iMessage notification ringing across the room, causing the attention to switch to the dirty blonde man for a second. He looked down at the message from "mi amor 💍" and opened up the conversation fully to reveal three images.

Armin's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the pictures, two of them depicting his wife fully naked in front of their bedroom mirror and one of the photos showcasing her silhouette against a blank wall, the light from their windows illuminating her figure, showing off her curves and full chest.

Armin cursed internally, immediately shutting off his phone, trying not to draw attention to himself, his cheeks flushed as he tried to concentrate on the meeting. He prayed to God that no one had seen the images of his wife, and he knew that he would have a talk with her later about when to send those kinds of pictures.

"Pardon me, guys, I have to step out for a moment." Armin stated to his colleagues, leaving the room with his phone in hand. Once outside of the firm, he opened his phone back up again, the pictures on full display. He admired the way his wife looked, shaking his head and scoffing as he thought about how naughty she was attempting to be. Slowly, he could feel himself getting riled up at the sight of his lover, so he closed out of messages and decided to ring her up instead of responding through text.

After the third ring, the call connected.

"Armin?" She asked, almost seeming confused. "I thought you were in a meeting, is everything okay?"

She was playing dumb. He wasn't a fan.

"I was in a meeting, yes." Armin's jaw clenched at how naive his wife was attempting to be. "Don't play dumb with me, baby."

"What do you mean?" She questioned. He could almost hear the smirk on the other side of the line, and he wasn't having any of it.

He scoffed, rubbing his brow. "You sent me nudes at work! I was in an important meeting, you know this."

"Did you not like them?" His wife pouted behind the screen, her legs rubbing against each other, wishing that her husband was home to pay attention to her.

"Obviously I did, that's why I'm calling you." Armin sounded annoyed, and she felt bad (but she didn't, really.) "I had to leave because of you."

"M'sorry."

"You're not sorry, you just want attention from me."

"I miss you." She admitted, twirling her fingers at the thought of Armin returning home to her later. "I didn't get to see you this morning, you know. You left without waking me up."

"I left because it was 7 am and I didn't want to disturb you. I told you last night that I would be home before dinner."

"That's too late, Min." He could tell over the phone that she was getting antsy and annoyed, her voice becoming higher and whinier. "I want you now, I woke up wanting you."

Armin cursed aloud, the word echoing into his phone, eliciting a soft whine from his wife. "I have to stay in this meeting, love. I'll see you when I get home."

"What am I supposed to do with myself?" She sighed out, whining as she shifted her hips on their bed, something Armin couldn't see. "I'm all alone."

"You can wait for me, right?"

"I don't want to, that's not fair." His wife sighed out, getting impatient.

"Life isn't fair, babe. You'll wait for me to come home. I'm not leaving work for this."

She sighed out, rubbing her thighs together at the thought of her husband getting annoyed at her in such a way. She smiled at the idea of working him up even more by letting him know what she would be doing while he was in his meeting. "Fine. I'll just go take a shower then, hmm?"

"God, baby, stop doing that."

"I'm not doing anything, Min."

"You know what you're doing. Don't send me these again today unless you want me to stay at work longer." His voice was strict, as if he was actually angry, yet she knew it was just a disguise so he wouldn't break under the pressure from his wife.

"M'kay, fine, you're boring. Go back to your meeting, babe, I love you."

"Love you too, I'll see you in a few hours."

"Take your time, Min! I'll just be here, wishing my fingers were yours." She hung up the phone, smirking as she realized how bothered she had just made her husband.

Armin stared at his phone in disbelief, the screen fading to black as he waited in the parking lot, trying not to think about his wife's pictures and what she was probably doing in that moment as he thanked God that he wore his larger slacks that day, as his physical issue wouldn't be as prominent when he walked back into the room.

Needless to say, he only stayed for two more hours at that meeting, after his wife had sent him an explicit audio recording.

<3

EEEEEEE i love lawyer!armin :)

pls pls pls lmk how you thought this was!!!!

i love you guyssssss

<3

[simplyzeeka]

Episode.3 Season.1

Absolutely Astronomical

Trying to love

Wanna be free

So, God, tell me please

Is it in the stars

Warnings: MDNI!! Profanity, adult themes, themes of infidelity, grinding, mutual pining. Just... stars.

Summary: Some mistakes are unsolicited, but definitely preventable. But Syrae and Terry never really had the kind of control, have they?

A/N: Please excise any errors. Not proofread. Enjoy!! Anything in italics is a flashback

Rainy weather was always Terry's favourite time to decompress. He would usually just whip up a hot meal and enjoy it in front of a good mystery movie, or just paint something abstract on a fresh canvas, a new interest of his.

But sometimes, especially since meeting Amber, his ways of decompressing have changed… drastically. If he wasn't balls deep inside of her, best believe he worshipped what lied between the thick of her thighs with his face. Or sometimes, quality time was more than enough, even with non-sexual affection.

That was his plan after a long, exhausting day at work. The sudden cold weather had his body chilled, he wanted nothing more than to warm up with his wife.

Amber, a woman of bewitching beauty. Deep brown skin that glistened especially in the sun, a body so alluring that curved and rolled in every way he liked. Terry always believed he was lucky, because as beautiful as she was on the inside, her morals and values reciprocated with her external beauty.

She laid in a bathtub filled with foam and smelt of lavender. Candles lit on the side with a glass of wine in her hand. Terry almost didn't want to interrupt, but it's been a while since they spent time together since their short honeymoon.

“Baby.” Terry called out to her, softly as he walked towards the bathtub. He crouched down, his face close to hers. The faint of jazz music could be heard along with the pattering of raindrops on the windows.

“Hey lovey, didn't hear you come in. You okay?” Amber frowned, her moist thumb rubbed against the middle of his forehead, where his eyebrows dipped in a frown. “Tough day?”

Terry hummed, “Hmm, nah not really.” A simple answer, short and curt but Amber knew there was more to his sour mood. “Is this about Mike's birthday?” She asked softly, not wanting to add tension.

Terry's late cousin, Mike's, birthday was coming soon. His death still cause tremor in Terry's heart, despite it being years ago. While he tried to forget of everything that came with Mike’s death and Shelby Springs, that year will forever live in him rent free.

Terry simply nodded his head, exhaling a loud breath while his fingers thread through her braids and graze across her scalp. “Yeah, I’ma be okay though. Don't worry ‘bout me baby. How was your day?”

Amber smiled somberly, he wasn't okay but she wouldn't push him to talk about it. Amber got out of the tub, dried her body, and wrapped her body up with a robe. “It was… something. I have to leave for Singapore in a few days.”

“You have to go alone? I can pack up and leave with y-” Terry began before Amber interrupted him with a laugh.

“No baby, that's okay. You need to stay here and work, business seem to be booming lately.” She suggested before standing on the tip of her toes, leaving a amorous kiss on his lips.

Terry exhaled in rejection, scratched the back of his neck before he followed her to their bedroom. “Guess I'll have to cancel game night with the guys.”

“Uh-Uh. There is no need to do that lovey. Just get someone else to go with you.”

Terry lost concentration for a bit, watching her as she smeared lotion on the smooth of her legs, the robe slipped off her shoulder revealing precise ink work across her collarbone.

“Yeah, but I wanted my woman to go with me. I missed you, baby. Shit, I still do.”

Amber rolled her eyes playfully with a knowing smile. Terry had always been an affectionate person, despite his broody demeanour and the way he always seemed to be mean-mugging people, he had not once hid his affections from Amber. It made her heart soar time and time again.

“I know, and I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you when I get back.” She whispered, taking slow and calculated steps towards him. “But right now… I kinda want you to put me to sleep.”

Terry bit his bottom lip at that, his eyes glistened with a shine that Amber always brought to him. “Shit, don't gotta tell me twice, girl. Come here.”

Terry ended up going to the game night alone, and unfortunately for him, he was stuck as a third wheel. Rome cancelled at the last minute, so it was just him, Yosohn and his girlfriend, Isla.

The three opted for something simple, and while Terry was bored out of his mind, bowling seemed to keep him from mugging Yosohn and his girl from their excessive PDA.

He missed Amber, it's been two days since she left for Singapore and he already felt screws loosening in his head. “We about to play or not?” He snapped at the couple, causing infectious giggles to spur from Isla's chest as she detached her lips from Yosohn's.

“Damn let's get started ‘fore this man throw a ball at us.” Yosohn joked, which only fueled the shorter woman's laughter. Terry smacked his lips as they all got started on the game.

The games were tense as Terry and Yosohn played against one another. The bowling rank was full now, almost every single alley was taken with players. Terry was beginning to get a little overstimulated by the few drinks, loud music, the flashing of bright neon led lights and the game.

In dire need of a break, Terry called recess and went to the bathroom to recharge. The bathroom was minimalistic, rather boring. But hey, it was just a bathroom and the bowling alley was quite an old establishment.

He appreciated the soft scent of bleach and soap, the mirrors were spotless and the floors squeaked with every step he took. Terry stood by the sinks, watching his reflection in the mirror before splashing cold water on his face to get him out of his funk. Usually by now, he would have told Amber that his social battery was running low and he just wanted to lay up under her for the rest of the night. But she wasn't here with him, and going home was not an option for Terry because she wasn't there either.

Reluctant to rejoin the couple, Terry slowly stepped out of the bathroom, eyes on the ground before a nostalgic fragrance of jasmine and honey, and maybe a small hint of… he couldn't really put his finger on the last scent, it didn't matter though, because what brought a smile to his face was an all too familiar person seemed to be in his presence, for the first time in weeks.

“Syrae?”

Terry did opt for finding out, would be hard not to when she enticed him in the way that she did. Must have been that stripper shit she learned at the club.

“I'm telling you, I would've made an amazing politician.” Terry laughs, staring at the dark-skinned beauty with a smile from across the table of a cheap, local diner.

Stark colours of red, yellow and orange painted the walls, tables and booths as Syrae sipped on her vanilla Milkshake. “I just don't see it. You look like you don't got the time for bullshit.” Syrae shrugged her shoulders.

“I don't, but I love being dependable and inventive. And politics seems to be the perfect place to do that. ‘Specially with how shit be going down here.”

He seemed ambitious, versatile too. Syrae loved that about anyone, but knowing that Terry was all this made it harder for her to keep her wandering thoughts at bay. “Hmm, somethin’ tell me owning a workshop wasn't in your books?”

A steady observation, Terry didn't talk about his shop like he spoke about his past ventures. The light in his eyes seemed to dim only slightly and Syrae was not sure if it was the journey to how he got here… or the destination that had him frustrated.

“That somethin’ might be right.”

Syrae hummed at his short response, she could read a room, but Terry did not seem to want to be read at the moment. Perhaps they could leave that for another time.

“Well I know how that feels.” Syrae sighed before she raised her half-empty glass. “What's life without a little fuck ups?”

Terry laughed at that, appreciating the deflection a little like she appreciated the sound of her melodic voice, or the sight of her smile. “Not a damn thing, Indigo.”

“Syrae.’ she interrupted with a small scrunch of her nose. “My real name’s Syrae.”

It suited her, much more than the name Indigo and it seemed to piece her together. “Hmm, nice to meet you. Syrae.”

“I'm sure it is.” and so the banter continues.

“Terry, I'm convinced you followin’ me now.” The shorter woman crossed her arms over her chest. She had jeans that fit just right, before flaring wide below her knees. A sage green dress, which stopped mid-thigh and was decorated with some glitter. There was a knot tied around her neck from the dress, covered by the jacket draped over her shoulder.

It was a simple outfit, so so simple. But Terry couldn't seem to understand why he felt butterflies breaking pit of their cacoons at the way she looked. Maybe it was the glasses on her face, he always had a thing for women in glasses. Or maybe the soft of her features, plush lips, thick brows. Fuck, it could've been the accent, one that did nothing to soothe the resolute thumping of his heart.

“Cockiness gets you nowhere Rae.” Syrae rolled her eyes at that, although her heart galloped at the nickname. Since finding out her real name, he has been calling her that freely and she would not be one to stop him, it sounded good coming from him.

“But nah, I'm kinda stuck third-wheeling my friends.”

Syrae winced, “Same here, actually.”

“But wait I got a reason to be alone, you don't. Where your lady at?” She asked curiously, although the mention of Terry's wife felt like a small slice to her gums, a feeling she quickly blinked away.

“Went away for work, Singapore.” Terry answered proudly. Amber was such a hard worker and she deserved every single petal on the flowers she received. “Who got you third-wheeling though?”

“My friend, Broisa and her… partner?” Syrae hesitated, not even sure if Gage was Broisa's boyfriend. Terry picked up the hesitation and laughed in understanding.

For a while he stood silent, eyes darting from her face to the floor then back to her face. Something about her features made it too hard for Terry to stare too long, yet it seemed like his brain pined for another look at her. Syrae had her natural hair out this time, perfectly coiled in a way that they bounced everytime she moved. Terry couldn't help but wonder just how long she spent on her hair every day. Was it hours and hours on end, or had she gotten so used to the routine it was sort of a habit to her? Did she need help? What products did she use?

“Well, you could join me… and my friends.” He began, pointing behind him, where Yosohn and Isla stood. “If you want.”

Syrae raised a brow, took a peak around Terry at his friends in question. “Hmm, if I want…” A mumbled retort. Syrae couldn't find a reason to decline, a reason she was so desperate to find because being near Terry just felt like torture at times. The man was naturally intense, and even without trying, everything he did was just inherently seductive, it made her want to lose all sense of her morale and give into whatever the stupid dragonflies in her stomach told her.

“That don't sound like too bad of an idea, I just gotta let me friend know though.” She explained, eyes trailing back to Terry's.

“You do what you gotta do, I'll be right over there.” Syrae nodded at his response, turned slowly and walked to where Broisa and Gage sat lip-locked, engaged deeply in each other than getting their money's worth.

Syrae walked meticulously to Terry's booth, an extra set of footsteps rushing behind her, wanting to so desperately know what the man who constantly occupied Syrae’s mind and conversation looked like.

So it happened that Broisa couldn't keep her mouth shut and yapped away Syrae's business to Gage. Now Gage was into Syrae’s tea and just as invested as the woman at his side. Syrae warned them both to not do anything that would compromise her's and Terry's friendship, or put them in an uncomfortable position.

“Hey, Terry. I'm back.” She announced. She noticed how the other two turned to her with brows raised and backs straightened. They were alert, something she couldn't necessarily fault as she was a random person to them, one who came with two more people towing behind her, and Broisa and Gage didn't look like the friendliest batch of people.

“My friends decided to come along, hope y'all don't mind an extra triplet.” She smiled nervously, watching as Gage protectively stared down the other three which were seated. “Yeah, hope y'all don't mind.” Gage couldn't stop himself from repeating, trying to seem intimidating.

Syrae couldn't help but to slightly roll her eyes, being used to Gage's antics by now, she knew it was only a matter of time until he started some shit like this, which she found hilarious because he was much smaller than the two.men he was trying to intimidate.

While Yosohn was a little lanky, he had Gage beat by height. Terry… well, Everything about Terry was big, surely a man that size should be able to knock some sense into people?

“Gage, hush.” Broisa reprimanded him, before smiling over at Terry, a little bunch of constellations in her eyes as she began to understand perfectly well why he insisted on his career at being an eight-track athlete in Syrae's head. “We hope we're not intrudin’?” Broisa continued, her smile getting a little too wide to keep at bay.

“Don't worry bout it. Isla, Sohn. This is Syrae, Broisa and… Gage?” Terry introduced before he turned to Syrae. “This Yosohn and his girlfriend, Isla.”

It was only then that Yosohn's eyes widen slightly in realisation. He connected Syrae to the club after a while. Yosohn has never seen Syrae up close, only ever seen her on stage, he hasn't really gotten the opportunity to see distinct features. Yet all this was masked by confusion, he didn't understand why Terry would invite Syrae here, a stripper who gave him a private dance. There couldn't be any good that came from this.

“Hey, nice to meet y'all.” Isla smiles, relaxing a bit at knowing that Terry knows them, well one-third at least. Syrae and Broisa return the sentiments, smiling awkwardly as Yosohn and Terry stare Gage down, the smaller man still not backing down.

Terry shook his head, then let out a small chuckle before directing the two women to take a seat in the booth.

After a few drinks, the tension was long forgotten and the group of six laughed at anything and everything. Yosohn had fallen a total of four times trying to throw a bowling ball, and that alone still had Syrae clutching her stomach.

Okay, so maybe they had more than a few drinks. And that meant that Terry and Syrae shared more than a few lingering stares, which luckily, nobody was sober enough to notice… at least they thought.

“I thought games weren't your thing.” Terry begins unsolicited conversation, focused intently on how Syrae swirled her straw in a tall glass of a purple glittery drink. A Nebula Blast she said it was. One fuckery of a drink because just like it's name, she began seeing galaxies in Terry’s eyes. A gazillion of shooting stars just waiting to make her dreams come true.

“They not.” She shrugs, a small smile on her lips before she wrapped her lips around her straw, Terry following the movement intently, inviting him to lick his own. “But free food and drinks are, and I needed this time out.”

“And why's that?.” His eyes didn't move from her mouth, especially not when her tongue peaked to catch the slight residue on her tinted lips. The muscle left a small trail of glitter and her full lips couldn't have looked any more enticing.

“I just wrote my last exam, and submitted my assignment. Kinda going through college burnout. Needed this real bad.” She lifted her half-full glass, the alcohol having already been too much for her that it forced her to sip much slower. How much Vodka did they put in this?

“Hmm, bet you did. You nervous ‘bout results?” Terry asked, taking a swing of his own rum and coke, a bad idea for someone as lightweight as Terry.

Syrae shook her head slowly, “Not really. I worked my ass off for these exams. But I'm still a little shaky… don't know ‘bout nervous though.”

Syrae yapped away about each exam she wrote, the difficulty of each and how she felt after writing. Terry listened, nodding along with a few interjections here and there.

It wasn't long until the other four felt a little bored at the bowling alley. Broisa wanted to go somewhere a little less… family friendly so she could get wasted and act accordingly with no children around.

Claiming that there was a nightclub not too far from the bowling alley, Broisa convinced everyone else to walk together instead of catching different rides to a place that's less than thirty minutes away.

Syrae was thankful of the recommendation, after downing the rest of the toxic drink, she had started feeling a little dizzy, and the cool night breezes did enough to calm her down and gather her breathing, temporarily ceasing the churning in her stomach.

But she was extra conscious of the fact that Terry was right next to her as they walked down the sidewalk, the other four goofing off further away in front of them. They managed to hold conversation, as always, a little sprinkle of banter did just the job in being confused as flirtation in Syrae's drunken state.

She kept up though, barely crossing another line. They were merely grazing it out of anticipation. By the time they made it to the club, Syrae had calmed down a tad bit. Terry, on the other hand, was still feeling the effects of the three glasses of rum, because now floating notes of music morphed into bright orange monarchs. They fluttered and diffused into his stomach, creating a surge of warmth when he felt the cool skin of her back as he led her through the entrance of the club.

It was loud, so loud that Terry and Syrae were beginning to question if they should have agreed on coming here. Broisa immediately enjoyed the vibe and hopped to the dance floor with Gage. Syrae and Terry followed Yosohn and Isla to the bar.

Syrae orders a water for Terry and herself, makes him drink as she remembered that he couldn't hold his liquor. Consciously, Syrae knew that a night out with Terry while being inebriated couldn't have been a good idea. Being out with Terry in such a casual setting, a comfortable one at that, was a bad idea in general.

It didn't take long for everything to catch up with Syrae, and then suddenly her need for fresh air was too palpable to be ignored. She excuses herself from the three friends, claiming she was just going outside for a while.

Now stood against a wall at the back of her nightclub. An unlit blunt in one hand and a hot pink lighter in the other. She stared at the ground mindlessly, periodically flicking her lighter. Maybe she should just cut off this budding friendship with Terry, there was no way he didn't feel how she did, which made it worse because…Terry was married. Fuck he was married and the thought along brought a pissing migraine to her head.

The music echoes perfectly from the club, only mere vibrations could be below her feet, which was long ridden of her heels. They sat comfortable on the floor next to her feet. Syrae exhaled loudly before placing the tip of her blunt in her lips before lifting her hands on the other end, flicking the spark wheel a number of times waiting for a flame.

Until the sudden sound of the back door opening suddenly, then out came a Terrence Richmond with his natural mean mug on his face. Syrae straightened off the wall abruptly, whipping the blunt off her lips. “Fuck, Terry. What the hell?” She muttered, exhaling a sigh of relief.

“You were out here for too long, thought somebody took you.” He explained, stepping a few steps to close, she could tell by how the hint of old wood and cocoa butter invaded her nose. “I'm good, Soldier.” She laughed softly, putting the blunt back in her bag.

Terry merely hummed. He got a few more drinks, in an attempt to wash away the thoughts of Syrae and all the feelings she brought. She weighed on his head heavily and intoxicatingly. Kind of like the alcohol did. “Wanted to see that for myself.”

Syrae hummed, looking up at his eyes. She shouldn't have, but she did, and now she couldn't look away. She couldn't help her wandering eyes. How they traced the intentional streaks of each contour on his face, the thickness of his neck, broad shoulders, one's she'd always thought would be a perfect place for her legs. Thighs or calves, it didn't matter.

He was wearing a black turtleneck, one that hugged his body in ways that had Syrae imagining raking her nails across his skin. His jeans were a bit loose, but when he sat or flexed just enough, the thickness of his thighs could not be hidden from the stretch.

“Why you got your shoes off? There's broken bottles down here, Rae.” Terry frowned at that realisation. Instinctively, he stepped even closer. Terry crouched on his feet and tapped three fingers on one of Syrae's ankles, coaxing her to lift her foot. “Terry, my feet fine. Ain't no need to do-” She was interrupted by a sigh.

Terry looked up from his crouched position, fingers just barely grazing the smooth skin above her ankle. His face remained neutral, as if he were telling her he wasn't taking no for an answer. Syrae let out a sigh of her own, her shoulders sagged and she lulled her head to the side before raising her foot.

Terry lifted it slightly higher, causing her to push the middle of her dress downward, as to not expose herself. He gently inspected the underside of her foot, swiping away the small rocks and pebbles indented in her heels.

He does the same for the other foot, however this time, it was much slower, much more intentional. That much was obvious by how Terry kept his slightly hooded eyes on her eyes, while massaging away at her heels. “Terry.” Syrae warned softly, her lips feeling a bit more dry than earlier and suddenly, she saw small dots of sparkly gas floating around her.

“Hmm?” He wasn't listening. His hand travelled lightly up her legs as did his gaze. He slowly raised from his crouched position the moment. Syrae's leg rested on his hip as his large hand held her leg up. “Terry.”

Syrae attempted at warning again, this time a little louder. Her hand reached for his, attempting to push it away from her burning skin, yet her fingers worked their way underneath the hem of his sleeves. Stiletto nails grazing his skin when Terry stepped further between her legs. “Syrae.”

She held in a whimper, the other hand that rested on his shoulder was supposed to push his body away, instead, it gripped at the defined muscle and slowly travelled to the curve of his neck. “Terrence Richmond.” Syrae moaned, in sheer desperation, because at least one of them had to have control, and surely wouldn't be Syrae. “I'm here.” He retorted, their faces so close he can taste the glitter and stars from the Nebula Blast on her breath. He just needed to kiss her, one kiss. Then he would see a supernova.

She shook her head, their noses budging at the movement. “Uh uh. We not ‘sposed to be doin’ this, Terry.” She whispered against his lips. Terry only nodded his head, managed to hold off from swallowing her gasp when she felt his obvious excitement against her ruined panties.

“You stoppin’ me?” A question that held so much power, because was she stopping him? Did she have the willpower to stop any of this? Syrae began questioning herself, trying to find resolute… until Terry angled his hips so perfectly, then ground them right against Syrae's pooling heat. Her mouth fell open and her eyebrows pinched between her forehead. “Hmm, baby? You gonna stop this?”

She should, she really really should. Because Terry could fuck her life all the way up, he already was and he's barely done anything. “Fuhh.” Her words fell short when she felt his pulsating bulge grind mind-numbing flutters to her swelling bud. “Hmm, look at m- Syrae. Look at me. You gon’ st-”

He was talking too much. Syrae held the back of his neck and pulled his lips onto his. And fuck if her heartbeat didn't go calm. She felt herself sag against him.

It took a while for them to register their affection. But when Terry reeled in, he kissed back, their heads moving leisurely in opposite directions as their minds took the lead. Syrae heard pops in her ears, mostly from the abuse of pressure Terry offered between her legs.

His hips moved so slowly, it's as if he was trying to serenade a confession of love from her heart straight through her body and out her pussy with her drowning essence. And she would tell him a million times, how it was his.

Terry moans against the kiss, the monarchs in his stomach cease the fluttering, as did the dragonflies in Syrae's. As if they've kissed noses, called a truce. Everything felt like an end of soul searching, like the two haven't reached true content in life until that very moment.

Syrae felt familiar and foreign all at once. But above all else, she felt like serenity. The kiss brought nothing but tranquillity and a surge of need. Terry wasn't sure if he particularly enjoyed the taste of Nebula Blast and glitter on her lips or the small hint of the cherry candy that Syrae always said she loved. It didn't matter because it was Syrae.

But Terry was wrong about one thing. Syrae's kisses didn't make him see a supernova. They made him see fucking galaxies.

A/N: I did that??? I did that for real? I'm so proud of this part, although it seemed like there's a lot going on, it's my favourite because it highlights a theme I've been wanting to include. If you haven't noticed, it's astronomy! Not the entire concept perse, but it's a lot of stars going on.

There's was a very, very subtle hint at how the story's gonna end in the chapter. It's so miniscule I doubt anyone will notice it lol. This song is what inspired me to write, because I was a little blocked chilee

Taglist:

@blyffe @peachbutterfly-blog @browngirldominion @blackmoonchilee

Comment if you'd like to be tagged. Please like it if you love it lol. Comments and reblogs are deeply encouraged and appreciated, it what motivates me to write more.

[mikamii25]

In his arms (Chuuya fic)

Warnings: Slight angst, Fluff! <3

Chuuya Nakahara x Fem reader!

Summery: You get to go home from work at the PM early, but Chuuya has to stay, and it’s already late. It’s time to go to bed, but you can’t help but miss him. You miss being in his arms.

Word count: 715

more under cut!

“it’s so cold” you say as you hop into bed. You wished he was here with you. God how you wished Chuuya was here. I mean.. you were able to go home from the P.M. early, but it sucked that Chuuya had to stay and go on yet another long mission, that would most likely last all night. All you wanted was him, and that’s all you could think about all you think about. All you could think about were the nights when Chuuya held you close, in a tight embrace, warm and cozy under the covers after a long day at work. The moonlight Shining through the curtains and the wind howling quietly in the night. You missed him a lot. You closed your eyes as you began to think about that night…

.

.

.

“hey babe, I’m home” he said, taking his jacket off and placing it in the coat rack, along with his hat. “Oh, hey Chuuya! I missed you!” You said while walking over to the door to greet him. “God… how do you keep getting let out early? Does mori hate me or something?? Ugh- that bastard. Just can’t catch a break, can I”

You giggled, then spoke again. “I guess not, but im sure he doesn’t hate you. You’re just so good on missions, that’s all. Your good at your job” he giggles a bit “yeah, I know I am, and you are too” he said as he gave you a little kiss on the forehead. “Wow, you made dinner? I thought it was my turn to make something” he spoke while walking over to the kitchen. “Yeah, well.. I knew you were gonna come home a bit late, so I took it upon myself to make dinner instead” you said proudly as you pulled him a chair. Chuuya spoke once again “God, I’m so lucky to have such a sweet girl like you to come home to”

You both sat down at the table and ate the food you prepared. The both of you happily talked about your day, enjoying each other’s company. Afterward, he went to go take a shower and you, who had already took one earlier, grabbed a book you were reading and hopped in bed. About 20 minutes later, he came out of the bathroom, dressed in his pajamas and hopped in bed with you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, then spoke quietly. “I’m so glad to finally be in bed with you. Been waiting for this all day, darlin'…. Work sucks"

I know it does.. trust me" you say, before yawning. Work did suck. Long hours and stressful missions, but it’s what you had to do. I mean, it wasn’t that bad since you were with Chuuya. He was good at protecting you on missions, even if he knew you could handle yourself. “Well, goodnight love” he said with a soft voice before fluttering his eyes shut. You began to feel your eyes become heavy, so you closed your eyes as well. Safe and sound, in your sweet boyfriend’s arms.

.

.

.

thinking of that night made you want Chuuya even more already, but you began to feel your eyes get heavy, so you fluttered them shut. Clutching onto the covers for warmth as you slowly fell asleep. Still so cold and alone.

an hour later, the door to the house opens, then shuts. Then the door to the room. He threw his stuff in the room and began to undress. Taking off everything except his plain button shirt. Then sliding in bed next to you. He places a warm kiss on your forehead as he speaks. “Hey darlin'.. I’m sorry I couldn’t be home sooner"

he then wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a warm and sleepy embrace. He watches your face light up slightly in your sleep. It seems you have realized that your boyfriend Chuuya is here, even though you’re asleep. God how he loved that pretty face of yours. It made him feel so happy to see you like that. He gently placed his hand on the back of your head and gives you another warm forehead kiss. “Sleep well darlin'…. I love you"

.

.

.

And you both slept well, nice and cozy in each other arms 🧡

[lovelaetter]

hii ! it's my first time writing & sending an ask so I'm kinda unsure what to say "( – ⌓ – ) but please hear me out on rosie posie ♡♡ quick psa, has a lot of context sorryyy

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ stepcest & kinda dubcon

⠀⸝⸝⸝⠀⠀( stepdaughter!reader × guilty!stepmom!rosé ) rosie feels so bad for seeing her daughter like that—she's supposed to be her mom, she married her father—but she just can't help herself. guilt building up 'n she gets all flustered whenever she sees you because her mind starts swirling and she just can't. you obviously notice because who wouldn't notice someone who's recently moved in ogling at them. oh my. rosie thinks she's being discreet because, once again, she married your dad, she's supposed to be attracted to him. but she swears she can see you staring back at her, stealing glances, but she refuses to give it thought. there's no way her now-daughter is going to reciprocate—that would be immoral.

but she can't help herself anyway, not when she's doing laundry and hopes you don't notice the fact some of your underwear is missing. when they appear again, this time with her own «ysl libré» scent, that's all the confirmation you need.

confronting stepmom!rosé is all a haze, rosie's not sure how she ended up eating you out as an 'apology', all she knows is that it feels so good to finally let go to her wants. you aren't very nice though, pulling on rosé's hair as to guide her and also what could be called a makeshift leash. rosie is sloppy, unsure, too pussy-drunk to actually do anything but loll her tongue out and deliver kitten licks. but that's okay, you have plenty of time to teach her mommy how to please her.

and then rosie can't believe she actually did that—but you can. ever so often teasing rosé by spreading their legs a bit wider than normal whilst they sit across from rosie during dinner. maybe also a bit of increased touchiness, discreet groping that makes rosé squeak and then cover it up with a cough. what else is she supposed to do? she'll have to admit she ate out her stepdaughter to get anything to stop. but she also doesn't mind your teasing, honestly, she loves it. she does get a good reward at the end of the day for being so good and quiet tho. she's so filthy for wanting her stepdaughter, the least she could do is behave for a small prize.

you're constantly reassuring rosie because who wouldn't want a pretty, older girl wrapped around their finger? rosé has never been one to go behind her lover's back, but now she can't help but picture you when she's giving her hubby a blow or when she's getting pounded dumb by your dad. but it's okay, you're still there to dumb her down even more.

⠀⸝⸝⸝⠀⠀she doesn't need to use her pretty head when all she has to do is just take it. maybe bent over the kitchen counter while your dad's at work. she's whining and tearing up because she's just so sensitive and one more finger would break her in half. something against that one spot is so different—so much better—than her husband mindlessly pounding into her. your fingers curl up and it just feels so good for her because it's not just her cervix, it's her spongy insides and swollen clit that are making her cry out in need.

taking her on the living room couch as well, some cheesy series you wanted to watch with her turning into her eating you out. she was a bit dumb to believe you actually wanted to just watch a movie—you're wearing loose clothes and your panties are peaking, you obviously have other intentions. there's even a bottle of lube shamelessly staring from the coffee table. all she can hear is the sounds from the TV turning into white noise as your moans drown out everything out. you're pulling and tugging on her hair, keeping her in place with your thighs, making sure she does well.

(I also have a few thoughts for roles reversed as in stepmom!reader corrupting stepdaughter!rosie (⸝⸝ ˊᗜˋ⸝⸝ ) but I think this is already long enough hahahah)

signed by ☃️

STEPCEST

yes, god, my head HURTS, i have nothing to add to this just yes… yes! if you don’t have a blog, i need you to create one asap and let me know bc !! i kinda want to live inside your mind ngl

and i might be suspicious about stepdaughter!rosie because i love the concept of her x older!reader so much, in my humble opinion she would only be allowed to date older women, so please share your thoughts on that too, i really want to hear them :(

[atwhughesversion]

canucks rambles ft. demko ahead you’ve been warned !!

i have been thinking about this team (shocker) and have come to the conclusion that if demko comes back soon and is able to settle in fairly quickly (which isn’t a given because he has played exactly 3 nhl games since march 9 and missed all of training camp) then visually we’ll start looking better. bc listen i LOVE arty so much and i’ve fallen for lankinen so fast as well and i love goalies always. but neither of them are true nhl starters and neither of them have the poise of someone like demko. demmer is basically just always in position (so he doesn’t need to make as many desperation saves, which look amazing but are often a result of poor positioning) and makes everything look so easy, he rarely gives up uncontrolled rebounds (he usually either smothers the puck, or directs it to the ceorner for a teammate) which makes the front of the net way easier to defend, because you don’t have to scramble to win the rebound.

like he just makes things so calm in a way you don’t even realize until he isn’t there, and the rest of the team has more confidence in their offence bc they know they have a brick wall behind them in case they lose the puck.

and again i love lanks and arty and am not trying to critique them but they do both have clear weaknesses that other teams can take advantage of, meanwhile demko is just good at everything and he doesn’t normally let in goals on low danger shots.

the moral of all this is just that we haven’t seen him play w the team consistently in soooo long that it’s basically a distant memory and i think as much as the team does have problems, and it’s players are dropping like flies, once he comes back i think they’ll just look better bc our mistakes won’t matter quite as frequently

and idk, if there’s anyone has become a fan of the canucks since march 2024 and thus hasn’t watched the team w demko as our starter, you’re truly in for such a treat once he comes back and works his way back to his ceiling god i miss him so much

[blaisenova]

a little drabble i shat out teehee. super experimental, super angsty, super shorter than usual. i wouldn't have it any other way.

as always, ao3 link is in the reblogs.

no warnings for this one other than the usual messed up relationship bs i don't think, but let me know if i missed anything and i'll tack it on

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

A heaving breath disturbs the dust that has gathered on the bright red scarf that hangs on a bent nail sticking out of the wall. Once, perhaps, it would have reminded you of someone else, but all you can see now is a warped version of yourself that clung to both it and all of the memories that it held despite how much it hurt him. 

And, that was the problem, wasn’t it? 

That he was too much like you, only broken in different ways. Like looking in a mirror that had been shattered, seeing a distorted reflection that might have been you if the light had shone at another angle, or if the ones that had broken you both had done so more similarly; if there weren’t parts that had been removed; replaced; rearranged. You were imperfect echoes of one another, simultaneously too alike and too different; warped by the way your sound bounced off of the walls.

In the end, it hadn’t really mattered that you both wanted the same thing; to be seen, and to be loved despite how ugly the view was.

You had always known that you weren’t something worth seeing – weren’t convinced that you could be seen – and he’d been convinced that not seeing every part of him all at once, all the time, meant that you didn’t see him at all. 

You’d feared him just as much as you’d adored him; he’d hated you almost as much as he’d loved you.

And, that was the problem, wasn’t it?

You both had held on to things that would only ever hurt you, and neither of you had known how to let it go until you were already so thoroughly intertwined with one another that you had to rip and tear at the thorns that bound you so that you just might have a chance at escaping. You’d thought, at some point, the bleeding might stop – now that his binds weren’t tearing open your body just to be certain that you’d still bleed at his command – but, even though your soul is no longer connected to his, the thorns remain, and you are an open wound; a bleeding heart; a walking haemorrhage.

Nightmare wouldn’t like that you were staining his carpets so.

You weren’t sure you could bring yourself to care.

Gently, you rub his scarf between your fingers. It’s thin and threadbare, and some part of you finds kinship in that fact. The feeling is rough – unpleasant – but familiar.

Does familiarity have to be a good thing?

“I miss you,” you confess to no one, because something about the admission makes you feel filthy. Thick tar falls from your sockets and stains your cheeks, and terror lances through you as you realise that maybe you never will be anything more than this ever again. 

Your breathing comes quick, and you hold your breath so as to not disturb his dusty remains any further than you already have; and, you wonder why you treat him with a reverence that he would never return.

You wonder if he could ever understand just how terrified he made you – of being nothing more than this; wonder why it matters so much to you that he understands; know he can’t possibly, when he is the one making you so afraid.

What were you, before? What are you, now?

Pieces and parts of yourself: removed, replaced, and rearranged. 

You think of a story you read, once, long ago. The books you managed to get your hands on before were worse for wear – yellowing pages that were putrid and warped from the journey they’d taken when they were discarded and forgotten; nothing like the pristine, well taken care of books that you had access to now, though something about that made them mean less – but you absorbed what they had to offer you with an appreciation you were sure they’d never been granted before. They spoke of gods, and humans, and monsters, and they wondered in ways you’d never wondered before; ways you wonder now.

You think of the story of the Ship of Theseus.

Pieces and parts: removed, replaced, rearranged.

Is it the same ship? Are you the same you? Now that you’ve been rebuilt – removed, replaced, and rearranged – are you still the person you once were? Can you be rebuilt again? Or, are you stuck like this, now that the one that was constructing you is no longer around to restore your weathered parts? Are you trapped, half-finished and without a purpose? A boat built with perforated wood? 

Water rushes in the gaps, and, through the same rifts, your blood pours out. Because, despite being free of his ties – the thorns are gone; you ripped them out; you tore out their roots, so they can’t possibly grow back, right? – you still tear yourself open just to be certain that you can still bleed, should he command it.

He’s not around to command you anymore.

Somehow, you feel you still need to be prepared for it.

“I miss you,” you confess to yourself, and something about the admission makes you feel vile. Thick tar falls from your sockets and drowns you, and you’re horrified because, even now, you’re still exactly how he reconstructed you – removed, replaced, rearranged. You fear you’ll never be anything more than this.

Can you be anything more than this?

You weren’t rebuilt to be a person. You weren’t remade to have desires or needs. You’re not sure he knew how you were meant to function, when his hands were deep within your very mind; your very soul. You’re not sure he knew how thoroughly he was stripping you of the programming that kept you alive. You’re not sure it matters whether he knew, when the result is the same.

His hands left you, coated in oil, or tar, or blood – whatever it was that flowed through you – and he’d wiped sweat from his brow – smeared you across his forehead – after a job well done.

Pieces and parts of you: removed, replaced, rearranged.

Refashioned to please a person that can no longer reap the rewards.

The fabric between your fingers grates on your bone and wears you away. The feeling is rough – unpleasant – but familiar.

You wonder if familiarity is ever a good thing.

“Killer,” a voice calls, and you numbly raise your head to meet a bright cyan eye with your own two empty ones. His sockets are half-lidded, and his expression is tight. When he speaks, his tone is harsh. “You serve no purpose, serving someone that no longer exists. Come back to me. Let him go.”

Again, your gaze falls back down to the red on your hands, and you wither at the sight. You feel light and heavy, all at the same time. “How?”

He sighs, and the sound makes you flinch; apologies taste bitter as you swallow them back down like bile. In a way that is certainly contrary, he kneels before you – pulls your chin up with his hand in a way you know is uncharacteristically gentle – and smiles; wider, when you smile back. His hand outstretches towards you, open and empty. “Let me help you.”

You stare at the offer, gripping your grief in closed fists, and, carefully, you allow your fingers to fall open. Uncertainty shakes you as you reach for his hand, and you’re careful not to make contact when you deposit your soul – heart-shaped; unstable; ugly – within his grasp. Your fingers dart away from the construct before you can change your mind.

“Good,” Nightmare praises, but you wince as he draws your soul up and away, right before his face. His eye watches its shifting form in fascination, and, this time, his smile almost feels real. He looks back at you, and you already feel the oncoming sting. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll fix you.”

“I miss him,” you confess, and the admission makes you mortified. Thick tar falls from your sockets, and you can’t breathe.

“I know,” he says, “but you won’t.”

He brings your soul to his teeth, and a choked sound of agony catches in your throat as he bites down and consumes you. For a moment, panic locks you in place – punctuated by the way your breath stutters with each excruciating soulbeat – but the feeling disappears as quickly as the rest, and you’re left with nothing but the pain that serves as the cost of numbness.

As you barrel towards apathy, laughter pouring from your chest – you’re not sure why you’re laughing. It’s not funny – you think that you can never be more than this.

Pieces and parts of yourself: removed, replaced, rearranged, always in someone else’s name.

[buckbuckleybegins]

God i hope this is around what you imagined. This prompt tugged at my angst loving ass 😭

•

Christopher has always been the elephant in the room since he left. The one topic that sticks in Buck’s throat whenever he considers bringing it up due to the fact that he can tell Eddie is suffering—even when he acts like he isn’t.

It’s been months now since that day Eddie’s parents showed up at his door to take Chris away from him… away from Buck. And Buck always feels so guilty whenever he thinks this because… as much as he loves and misses him, Chris has never truly been his. Even if Eddie’s made him his godfather, writing Buck’s name in his will… Chris isn’t his. He’s Eddie’s. And whatever feeling of loneliness, emptiness, and hurt he feels whenever he enters Eddie’s house and isn’t greeted by those curls full of laughter, smarts, and love—Buck knows Eddie feels it a hundred times stronger.

“I need to take him back,” Eddie says, still pacing around his living room. Buck—sitting on the couch after Eddie called him, urgently asking him to come over—wants to stop him, grab him by the arms and ground him before he spirals into a panic attack. Because Eddie looks frantic, terrified. He’s staring at nothing in particular with wide eyes, sweat glistening from whatever terrible thought his imagination is serving him in that moment. “He can’t—he can’t stay there, Buck. I can’t lose him.”

“Okay,” Buck says, calm and steady. For the first time since he’s arrived, Eddie looks at him—teary-eyed and scared out of his mind. And God, Buck can barely meet his gaze without feeling the exact same emotions crawl up his own throat.

“What do we do?”

Eddie pauses, covers his face with his hands, and looks like he wants to scream but instead just sobs. Buck’s heart shatters into a million pieces at the sound.

When Eddie’s hands fly off his face, he looks at Buck with a different expression. It’s still sad, but now there’s a quiet, simmering resolution that wasn’t there before.

“I’m going to Texas,” he says, looking Buck right in the eyes. “I’m going to take my son back.”

Buck feels his throat tighten at Eddie’s words, and this time, it’s his brain conjuring images after images of things he really wishes will never happen. But Eddie is suffering, and his suffering takes priority over whatever fear of abandonment Buck could ever feel. So Buck just nods and helps Eddie pack his bags.

—

There’s a sense of déjà vu when they reach the airport, and Buck quickly pushes it aside—or tries to, at least. Because it comes back once again, a million times stronger, as he looks at Eddie’s frame just outside the glass doors, bags in hand, ready to leave.

Ready to leave him—

But Eddie looks back. A smile on his face and a thank you on his lips. Buck wants to grab him by the hand, pull him away, and tell him not to go. Not to leave him as well, just like everyone else in his life because this time he doesn’t know if he will survive it.

But Buck doesn’t. Because Chris is away, Eddie is suffering, and Chris and Eddie have always been his priority. Is their happiness as important as yours? Buck remembers and he loudly declares to himself that yes, it is. Their happiness is so much more important than his.

Eddie notices, though. He always does. Buck never has to speak for Eddie to understand him. It’s kind of their thing. Their BuckandEddie thing. No words needed when you understand each other to the core.

Eddie takes a few steps toward him, lets his bag fall to the ground, and—does something unexpected. He unclasps the St. Christopher medallion from his neck, slipping it around Buck’s. His hand lingers there, warm and grounding, as if passing on a promise.

“I’ll be back,” Eddie says, a soft smile on his lips, full of this newfound determination. “We’ll be back,” he corrects himself.

Buck nods, smiles back, and he can’t stop the tears from falling down.

But, still? Still, he believes him. He believes that Eddie will be back, Chris in hand and happy.

And he keeps that thought close to his chest, his hand clasped around the medallion—the promise Eddie just made him. This time, he believes it. This time, he knows he won’t be abandoned again.

So um.. does anyone wanna maybe write a fic where Eddie goes to Texas to get Chris and buck ‘abandonment issues’ Buckley is feeling anxious that Eddie won’t come back and then Eddie takes off the st Christopher medal from his neck and puts it on bucks as like a symbolic thing to tell him he will (cos buck will be like I can’t- then Eddie is like this way you can just give it back to me next time you see me ) and they have a moment™️?