#fuck me in particular ill be crying my eyes out

[itrytotalkrefined]

thats it hoes after this week in rewatching band of brothers. choosing full emotional destruction

[chrisevansonly]

Playing With Fire

Max Verstappen x Female Reader

summary: you and stella are max’s world, and he’d be damned if he let his father speak ill of either of you.

warnings: angst, jos (ew), angry max, slight mentions of crying, fluff at end

a/n: this is a re-upload to see if it shows up in the tags 🥲

When Stella was born, it was one of the best days ever for Max, seeing his baby girl come into the world, and the way she practically latched onto him from the minute she was welcomed into the family. He knew right then and there he would be the absolute best father to his daughter, just as he was the best husband to you, and always had been.

If there was one thing Max nor you completely enjoyed it was family events when everyone got together, including Jos. Max’s father.Max and his father have a complicated relationship, in a way they seem close but there’s always that edge to his dad that keeps all of you on the edge of your seat. You in particular seemed to still be an issue to him, and every once in a while, you’d become the punching bag at the dinner table.

Stella was sleeping in your arms as you sat next to Max at the dinner table, Jos across from you both and his mother on the other end with the rest of his family and some friends that had joined for the monthly get together.

“So when is the next Verstappen coming?” His father asked looking at you. Stella was only 6 months old so you and Max were happy to just enjoy the time you have with her now, not even thinking about another baby.

“Oh, well i’m sure someday we’ll have another…”

“We’re in no rush” Max butted in, assuming it would stop his father’s line of questioning.

“Yes well, it’s just you had a baby girl…there has to be a boy in the equation…”

You furrowed your brows, fixing Stella’s blanket as she continued to sleep, oblivious to the rising tensions in the room.

“I don’t think so? There’s nothing wrong with having girls..”

“Who’s supposed to carry on the name?”

Max sat up straighter, his hand squeezing your knee gently

“Stella will just as our next baby will eventually, regardless of their gender.”

Jos shook his head taking a sip of his water as he sighed, before looking back at you.

“All i’m saying is you should be trying for a boy.”

“Well it doesn’t work that way.”

The table was getting quieter as the father and son squared off, Jos not backing down and Max not about to let his father attack you in anyway. Not on his watch.

“I knew the second you had a daughter it would make you weak, let alone marrying her and having that baby! She’s useless if she can’t have a boy! You’re wasting your time Max, I knew from the second I met her it would ruin our family.”

Used to his harassment you didn’t cry, but it didn’t stop tears from welling up in your eyes as you almost deflated in a way, hugging Stella closer to your chest. The minute your eyes looked to Max, long gone was his soft stare and gentle smile, replaced was a look almost predatory as he looked to his father.

“Watch your fucking mouth when you’re talking about the mother of my child.”

“Max-”

“No, get out.”

“Excuse me?” Jos’s eyes widened and he shook his head

“GET THE HELL OUT!”

Max yelled, slamming his hands down on the table, seconds later Stella stirring before whimpering in your arms. The dutchman froze and looked apologetically at you as you excused yourself to go up to the nursery, only then turning back to look at his father.

“If you ever so much as think about speaking about my wife and daughter again, it’ll be me coming after you. Now get the fuck out.”

Jos didn’t even offer to say anything else, pushing back his chair and storming out, effectively cutting the dinner to an end as everyone left, Max’s mother sticking around to help clean up and of course comfort you afterwards. She had always been close to you and Max and in a way she was like a mother to you too.

“Baby?”

Turning at the sound of your husbands voice you smiled, still holding Stella in your arms, only this time she was much calmer, her eyes lighting up as she spots her dad.

“Hi, everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that…”

Shrugging you let him take Stella from you, his demeanour much more relaxed with his baby girl in his arms as he placed a few kisses to her cheeks.

“I know what your father is like, yes it hurts but I love you and you love me and that’s all that matters…we have a beautiful baby girl, and that man will never be able to change what we have.”

Max nods, bringing you into his side and leaning down to kiss you softly

“You’re right, he can’t. I’ll never let him ever disrespect you like that ever again. No matter what I have to do.”

“I know you won’t Maxie…and I love you very much for it, Stella too, huh baby?”

Stroking her cheek gently she babbled happily, leaning on Max’s shoulder, her hand patting his chest gently

“My girls…I love you both so much, i’ll always protect you both, with my everything.”

Nothing else needed to be said in the moment, all Max needed was his girls and he felt whole. Nothing else mattered because to him he had everything he’d ever wanted in his life. Despite what he went through growing up, Jos had never made his heart turn cold, he made it big enough to hold the love he had for you two, and would always hold, no matter what happened.

Besides, everyone knew messing with the Verstappen girls, was playing with fire.

[goodnessgraves]

hey boo saw your post abt wanting requests and decided I’d do a lil brain dump, had this stirring around my head for a while but what would 141 (or any particular one of them) do if reader just…busted down crying mid sex (happy tears) bc they have like some bad history w sex and they were just happy to feel comfortable in their own skin again

hope that made sense, love your works🫶🫶

so freaking simon riley oh my god.

A/N: fuck i’m just editing this to realize i read this WRONG HELP ME. ILL WRITE THE READER VERSION SOON LMAO SORRY IM A BLOCKHEAD.

soft gentle sex with simon!

All he knows is rough, he doesn’t know gentle. He knows finding a girl at the bar and giving her a rough shag- he knows the way girls pine after the mask without caring what’s underneath, but you, you’re different.

You’re on top of him, riding him at his pace and holding his face and peppering him with kisses, his mask long discarded. He doesn’t have to be Ghost around you, he can just be Simon.

Wet tears fall from his eyes as he mutters soft thank yous, praises, and i love yous.

“Si, what’s wrong?” You stop, holding his face, but his hands keep guiding your hips.

“It’s jus’- s’too soft. Not- God- Not used ta’ the lovin’ part o’ sex. Used ta’ fuckin’ not makin’ love, y’know?” He guides you by the hips, bouncing you softly.

“You want me to stop?” You look down at him, kissing his tears away.

“No-” He sighs out, “Fuckin’ ‘ell, yer too good fa’ me, lovie.”

[cutiecusp]

Fame.

Popstar! Reader x John Price.

It's 3 a.m. and I'm writing again. Couldn't get a particular song out of my head and it made me thing of a popstar/dominant boss vibe.

Warning. Probably the closest to (mild) dubcon Is write, reader is persuaded by lust and fame.

Tw. spanking, controlling behaviour. MDNI.

................................................

Fame.

That's what you wanted. That's what you hungered for. The late nights, the sore throats and scraped knees... you would do anything to be a star, to have made it, your name in lights, the crowds screaming your name, night after night as you performed sold out gig after sold out gig.

And you did. But your light was dimming. There was always someone more. More talented, more beautiful, more hungry.

You were finishing a show, a sea of people screaming your lyrics back at you, a collective amount of faces smiling, crying, cheering for you.

You stand and take it in, arms outstretched, hair plastered to your forehead, sticky make up all over your eyes.

You take a deep breath and raise the microphone to your lips.

"Thank you, everybody, for coming out!" You say, smile beaming.

"I have an announcement." You continue.

"This album means so much to me, and I love touring it for you guys. So, ill be adding more dates next week. Love you all!"

You laugh, before the trap door opens on the stage and you disappear, stunning your fans before a wild cheer breaks out from the crowd.

A week later, you are at your record company. You've been called into a meeting.

"What are you playing at?" Your manager throws out at you at across the desk. You refuse to be intimated.

"I'm about to make you a lot of fucking money." You hiss.

"I like the sound of that, sweetheart." A new, rumbly voice echoes around the room.

You turn to see the broadest man you've ever seen. His pinstripe suit exudes class and money.

"John. John Price." He introduces himself, taking your smaller hand in his giant paw.

"I'm gonna be your boss until you finish the tour. Set list, outfits, everything, the label-"

"The label will do what I want for the last few dates." You dismiss, removing your hand from his.

A flicker of a frown crosses his face, but he smiles and nods.

"You are the superstar after all." He concedes.

You crinkle a brow, surprised he gave in so easily. A man like him is used to being in control, so to overthrown by you is... unusual.

John looks around the room.

"Everyone out, I need to go over some things with our starlet."

The room empties, and John stands over you, his finger under your chin as a silent warning.

"Happy to work with you, love, but push me in front of the others, question my authority again, you'll pay for it in the way I know you know." His steely gaze meets your defiant one.

His gaze travelled down to your body, and back up again, his fingers tracing up your jaw and lightly pulling your hair back, forcing you to look at him.

"30 dates. No men in the dressing room. You will have half hour after every show to greet your fans. You will report all outfits to me. You will create social media every day for those dates."

You nod with a defiant look, allowing him to set the rules you planned on breaking.

"I mean it. I'm not adverse to putting you over my knee." His voice rumbles through you, making you shudder.

Men with money don't scare you, you fought for your place on the charts, but there was something quiet and dangerous about John, and you were equally disgusted and turned on.

"Are we clear, sweetheart?"

You nod, unable to look away from his lips, wondering what they would feel like on your skin.

"Oh, darling. You could be so much fun to play with..." He admits, tracing his fingers down your throat, before pulling you in to him by your top.

You clear your throat, defiance flashing through you.

"As if you could handle me." You spit out, venom clear on your tongue.

He laughs dryly, and pulls you up, and over the table.

"Spread those legs, darling. And count for me."

Pressing you down, your cheek meets the laminate wood as he pulls your skirt up over your hips. You feel him separate your legs as your struggle, but he braced your shoulders with his forearm.

"You have one chance to prove your worth to me, little starlet." He says, running his fingers up your thigh, collecting the nectar between your legs.

"Such a brat, but so fucking wet for me." He admits, his voice heavy with need.

"Count." He says,bringing his hand on your flesh, his wet fingertips adding to the sting.

"Fuck you." You hiss through the pain.

John just laughs.

"You don't want to push me, love. I can give you what you want. Awards. Collaborations, number one hits, pretty gems, fame like you wouldnt believe..."

And you fucking fall for it. Greedy little fame hungry starlet you are.

He smacks your flesh again.

"One." You choke out. Your heart was pounding. How dare he? And how dare you like it?

Two, three and four came rapidly, causing you to wriggle against his arm.

He pauses to massage your skin, his hands soft and firm, a total contradiction. You find yourself whimpering under his touch, spreading your legs a little more.

You make it to ten, barely.

"Stop, please." You whisper, face aflame.

"You sorry, sweetheart?"

Throughly humiliated and soaking through your underwear, you nod.

"Good girl."

He sets you upright, places a kiss on your temple.

"For 30 days, you belong to me. I'll make you the most famous you've ever been in your life, if you do as I say. You want that?"

You nod.

He pulls out the contact from his suit jacket, and reaching over the desk, he hands you a pen, keeping a grip on your hip with the other hand.

You take the pen, the urge to stab him with it strong, but you sign your name away for the next month.

Pulling you into his lap, he adds his name underneath.

"Looking forward to working with you, love."

..................

@xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @livingoutsidethetardis @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @azxulaa @yesornowaitidontknow @enjisbf @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations

@evie-119

[sturnzyolo]

Shadows

Matt Sturniolo x fem reader

Warnings: fluff, swearing, a little eerie scenery, crying, stress, bullying mention, comfort, anxiety, and slight obsession (anything else will be added in later parts)

slight summary/teaser: reader feels a significant connection to a particular classmate of hers, her teacher's favorite student. One day, when on her way home, she hears something.

⚠️ my first ever fic so don't hate if it's absolute shit although I take honors english + I will NOT be writing any smut, (sorry u horndoggaroonies) bc I believe my digital footprint is terrible as is, so. let's not add onto it!

(This part is mainly created on my computer so if anything's fucked up ill fix it on my phone)

PART 1

3rd person POV?

Matt didn't understand why he was so favored in his calculus class, he wasn't a nerd, although he seemed like one with his glasses and button-ups. It wasn't like he got every answer right, no not at all. He barely even paid attention in class, his mind wanders instead.

Mr. Robinson has always been overly kind to Matt, he would have him stay after class or during passing period just to talk about how Matt was doing. Matt would constantly get a run down about Mr. Robinson's son having terrible anxiety. Maybe that's why he was so easy on Matt and favorited him, he most likely just reminded his teacher of his son, which seems more like pity. Matt usually would find this behavior odd, most teachers didn't even know Matt was in their class til he asked to go to the nurse, bathroom, office, or if there was any group project, he'd always be picked last by some group who didn't have enough members.

He noticed y/n looking at him in class, only from time to time of course, he found it weird how someone could be paying attention to him, then again he just thought she was making fun of him in her head.

Bullying wasn't like it was in the movies, for Matt, it was just whispers and stares. Kids would laugh as he passed, most called him the teacher's pet if they shared calculus with him. He mainly stuck to himself, somedays he didn't even show up, if it was just staying at home to do work online or going to an early therapy session.

Y/N POV

May 13th, 2024

(let's pretend their 18, in their senior year in 2024)

A dreadful Monday morning, Matt was wearing a collared white and blue striped button up with dark tan cargo pants. I watched him walk up to his seat in calculus class, nobody spoke to him except Mr. Robinson, giving an overly cheerful, "Goodmorning Matthew" as he headed in. Matt only muttered a tired "morning" as he threw his backpack next to his desk and leaned into his chair while he sat.

Class went as normal throughout his lecture. Honestly, I could've fallen asleep, for once I understood the material, so I found paying attention quite useless.

"Matthew what's the answer to page 347 question 9?" Mr. Robinson said abruptly

I practically jumped out of my seat, he never called on Matt, and I was shocked he finally did. I looked over to see Matt, knocked completely out of his daze, I guess he didn't expect the sudden call out either.

Matt fiddled with his pencil nervously as Mr. Robinson waited for an answer, yet he was only met with "Um's" and "Uh's" out of Matt.

I kicked Matt's ankle gently, I covered my mouth loosely as I whispered the answer, which I had to quickly figure out. I felt awkward in the moment just watching it, so I couldn't bare it lasting any longer.

Matt nervously repeated my words with stumbles, which I was even shocked that it was correct. Mr. Robinson seemed proud with a nod and a slight smile "Correct, amazing work Matthew"

Even with the praise he still seemed nervous, he was still anxious from the awkward occurance that had all the eyes laid onto him.

He turned back to me slightly, whispering a soft "thank you" before he sat up and tried to compose himself

"No problem" I said back quietly, although my voice was practically a loud speaker to Mr. Robinson, who almost instantly snapped his cold gaze towards me

"Ms. Y/L/N stop the talking back there or you're going to the office" he demanded in a very threatening tone

I never left it alone whenever I was unfairly called out, Mr. Robinson knew this, and I swear he did it to get a rise out of me.

"Sir I wasn't even talking!" I called out

"Well you are now so zip it or you're out." He argued

I scoffed "You always target me, I barely even opened my mouth sir, besides you shouldn't talk to a student that way if you're always pushing us to respect you when you don't even return it!" I don't know why I argued, it's pointless and I knew that

"I can talk to you however I like, get out of my class!" He yelled. I sighed and packed my things before throwing my bookbag over my shoulder and walked straight out of class. I gave Mr. Robinson a glare but he wasn't even looking, I dont know what I did for him to hate me but love Matt.

I stepped out into the hallway and slumped down the wall midway to the office, I didn't want to go. Besides nobody would even notice or care. I heard the classroom swing open, I quickly stood up thinking it was Mr. Robinson. But it wasn't.

Matt came out instead, "why's he out here" I thought, I decided it was a perfect chance to finally speak to him

"Shit you scared me, I thought you were the teacher" I said as I looked at him with a slight smile

"Oh sorry I didn't mean to scare you, uhm but thank you again for helping me back there with the question." Matt said lowly in somewhat of a nervous mumble

"No worries, I could tell you looked a bit lost. So why does Mr. Robinson favor you so much out of everybody, I was just curious." I finally was ready to hear the answer, I always thought they maybe were related somehow but then again it didn't seem like it and the school would separate them anyway.

"Uh well I think it's cause I remind him of his son, I barely even know the answer to that. I find it just as weird as everybody else does, people think I'm a teachers pet because of it." He admitted as he nervously tugged as his clothes, which I noticed.

"Oh, well I should probably go to the office since Mr. Robinson's most likely going to call them and ask if I showed up, bye matt, I'll see you in class" I said

"Bye y/n, im sorry for getting you in trouble" the last half of what he said barely was audible to me with the quiet tone he used as I walked away to the office

I already have an idea of where this story is leading & I'm guessing it'll only take at most 4 parts to get there, I just feel bad stuffing one part with so much. Also if the writing & dialogue suck it's bc I rushed this SORRY 😔

THIS PART IS RLLY BORING I PROMISE THE NEXT IS SM BETTER‼️

PART 3 OUT NOW

[delimeats-000]

this fic is for my angel baby❤️❤️ @devsturniolo

Good Boy

summary: chris is being a whiny baby

warning: smut just oral, language idk

pairing: chris sturniolo x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“look what i can do.”

“look what i can do.”

“look what i can do.”

chris keeps repeating himself. im busy at his desk setting up his new monitor, “Chris can you stop.”

“JUST LOOOOK!!” he spins the chair to face him.

he opens his mouth sticking out his tongue folding it and holding it in place.

“Thats nice Chris.”, i say turning the chair back.

he’s been craving attention like a little kid lately, clinging onto me and not giving me any space.

“are you mad at me?” he whines

“Im just getting frustrated, I’ve got shit to do and I have you whining like a baby.”

“Im sorry, mommy.” he whispers now crawling toward me. he rests himself in my lap, “can I make it up to you mommy?”

“Im busy Chris.” i say stern so he knows im not playing.

“But mommy, ill stop whining.” he says caressing my thighs.

“Fuck Chris. Fine.” i stand up pushing him off of me.

as i take off my pants i watch his eyes trace over every inch of me. “It’s rude to stare.”

“Sorry.”

i grab his face tightly in one hand. “Sorry, what?” i ask him.

“Mommy, sorry mommy.”

“Good boy, on the bed.”

he does as he’s told and i crawl on top of him sitting in his lap. i lean over grabbing his wrists to hold his hands down. i kiss him rough, frustrated that i had to stop what i was doing just cause he needed to get off. he kisses back, each kiss is wet and sloppy. our lips move together in no particular rhythm.

he thrusts upward into me, letting go of one wrist i slap him across the face hard enough to get a reaction. “You know better.”

“Yes mommy.” he nods frantic and starving to be touched.

i grind against him slow in a rhythmic pattern. he begins moaning, whining, crying. “Mommy, sit on my face, PLEASE fuck Please..”

“Good boy, using manners.”

“Yes mommy, im a good boy.” he whines again. i stop grinding down on him and hop off.

moving up the bed to his face i kiss him once and slowly pull off my lacey panties, just enough to tease him.

i make make my way toward him again and hover over his face. “Hands.” i demand.

he hold up his arms for me and i hold his wrists in place while lowering myself onto him. immediately he sticks out his tongue trying to get anything he can.

once im fully down on his face he wastes no time, lapping at my pussy he eats me out as if he’d been starved for days.

eventually he’s just fucking me with his tongue, i can help but cry out. “FUCK CHRIS!! just like that, keep go- going FUCK-”

coming undone on his face as i feel his tongue going in and out of me while his nose rubs against my clit i scream in ecstasy.

“CHRIISSS!!” i let go of his wrists so he can touch me while i continue riding out my high. he laps at me more and more and massages my naked breasts until i pull his hair. “Fuck chris, cant take anymore!!”

he helps me move off of him and to his side as licks his lips looking at me, “Was I a good boy, mommy?”

“Yes Chris, you were a good boy.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

love you 🫶🏼

[hongism]

29 - s.mingi - punishment + dacryphilia (18+)

» s.mingi x fem!reader » pwp, 18+ » language, mentions of drinking/smoking, explicit smut » wc 8.1k » link to masterlist » repost now that tumblr solved my tagging issues! fingers crossed everything works as normal now 🤞

smut warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, manual stimulation, oral sex: m, unprotected sex, facial, creampie, dirty talk, pet names: baby/baby girl/princess, crying during sex, deepthroating/face-fucking, edging, orgasm control, overstimulation

“So, you ever gonna tell me where you were last Tuesday?”

You can’t say that you weren’t expecting the question to come eventually, especially after you left Mingi with such a shitty excuse about not being able to meet up, but you expected to at least have a few more hours to get a story together before he cornered you here in one Choi San’s kitchen on a Friday evening. There’s an assortment of drinks spread out over the counters, no doubt in the fridge as well, but you aren’t after any of those goods in particular right now. Instead, you opt to simply snag water from the fridge and turn to face Mingi as you’re unscrewing the cap.

“Hm? What happened last Tuesday?” The quaint tilt of your chin does nothing to solidify your innocence, and Mingi’s sharp stare hones in on your face within seconds.

“You tell me, yn.”

Your lips part to prepare some sort of response, gaze trailing off to the ceiling as you piece together the excuse of a story. Mingi grants you that much, at least, even if it’s a show of how extravagantly you’re about to lie to him here and now. He leans around you as you’re gathering your thoughts, reaching for the counter and snagging a beer off it. You’d be impressed with his strength if you didn’t know that it’s the kind that screws off at the cap because Hongjoong has dainty hands that can easily be injured and he’s no good at opening bottles, thus San coddles him as such even when it comes to house parties.

“Well… I remember getting dinner with a few people. Didn’t drink or smoke anything because I had an early shift the next day. Then I went home.”

“Went home, huh?”

“We don’t typically get together on Tuesdays, Min,” you say between sips, arching a brow at the man who stands across from you. He pauses as well just to stand a little straighter and look you in the eye before arching one of his one brows — the pierced one that has a little black barbell poking through the skin — at you in return. His silence allows you a moment of reprieve, even if it comes at the cost of his staring so heavily at your face all the while. Still, you make no effort to conceal the way you drag your own gaze from his face down his body, taking in the ill-fitting tank top that has obscenely large holes cut out for his arms to stick through. You’d argue that it fits a bit better than it used to with how he’s been bulking up and putting on muscle these days, but you would also never give him the pleasure of hearing your appreciation out loud. He hears enough of it in the late hours of the night, three or four times a week as he has you pressed into the mattress in your apartment. The tank also gives you an eyeful of one of your favorite pieces in Mingi’s extensive collection — the snaking vines of tattoos that spread from his wrists up to his shoulders, dipping beneath the fabric and leaving much to the imagination. But of course, you don’t need to think too hard about what’s underneath when you see it as often as you do.

“What are you smirking about?” he questions, pulling your focus back up to his face before you can dip below the waistline.

“Thinking about what a lucky girl I am, that’s all.” You push off the counter to step around your friend, laying a hand on his shoulder as you slip between his body and the fridge to get past. “Got a big strong man all to myself.”

“That so?” He turns with you like his gaze is glued to you and can’t be separated even for a second. “Which one would that be?”

In hindsight, you should also have known that Mingi is smart enough to figure out little nuances and pick up on context clues when they’re presented to him. Thankfully, you have your back to him now so the shock doesn’t register on your face by the time you shift to look back at him over your shoulder. There’s a smile planted on your lips instead, one that you hope deters him for a little while longer.

“Look in the mirror some, pretty boy.”

You dip out of the kitchen then to rejoin the others in the living room, sinking to the couch cushions between San and some girl you’ve never seen before.

“Freshly rolled, milady,” San says through a dimpled grin as he lifts a somewhat sketchy-looking joint to dangle before your face. You’d decline if it were coming from anyone other than San — you’ve seen your fair share of sketchy and downright awful homemade joints come from his hands, but he is also the only one amongst your friend group who has the patience and tact to do it. (That, and you’re still vacuuming weed out of the carpet in your own living room from when Wooyoung and Mingi had a rolling contest that resulted in what can only be considered a horrendous fire hazard.)

“Thank you, kind sir.”

Hongjoong is sat on the other side of San, knees pulled up to his chest and tucked into the armrest as though he’s trying to make himself seem as small as possible. You barely get a glimpse at the red cup in his hands before San’s broad shoulders are blocking your view and you have to give up. The group tonight is quite large, more than the typically small get-togethers that you’re used to having with the others where it’s only eight or nine of you at most. San seems to have invited quite a few more party-goers this time around, which you hardly mind all in all.

“Can I crash in your room tonight?” you ask as San is in the midst of pulling a lighter up to the end of the joint.

“Mhm, just don’t get cum on the sheets.” His grin is nothing but cheeky, although that doesn’t keep you from whacking his arm with your free hand once he sets the lighter aside.

“Oh, fuck off!”

“I’m gonna be busy getting some on someone else’s sheets later so I won’t have time to police you about it.”

“You’re so nasty.” The man simply passes off the comment with a laugh, leaning back into the couch cushions with a dopey little grin that tells you he’s already hit a joint himself more than a few times tonight. As he moves, Hongjoong goes with him, stretching his legs out across the party host’s lap and letting San slump against his body. You snort at the minute show of affection and take a hit from the joint between your fingers.

“You’re the one—” San pauses to make a crude gesture involving his index finger and a lightly balled fist “—one of the two towers over there.”

Following the jerk of his chin isn’t too difficult, but you still regret glancing over in that direction because it means you make eye contact with the exact man you were trying to avoid in the kitchen earlier. Your stare flickers away too quickly to read as confident, and the only viable distraction within reach is San’s homemade joint. You aren’t too interested in getting too high tonight, just enough to get a little light and airy if anything, so as soon as you catch Wooyoung moving past the back of the couch, you pass the joint off to him before he gets too far away. Two hits will leave you fully lucid but any more than that and you’d be pushing the buttons on an emotional rollercoaster that you aren’t wanting to have in front of a bunch of strangers.

“Both… well, only once for one of them,” you mutter under your breath with the hope that Mingi hasn’t miraculously gained the skill of lip-reading.

“Is that where you were last Tuesday?” Hongjoong pipes up this time, pulling himself a little straighter to get a better look at you and you nearly hiss at him to keep it down.

“A lady never kisses and tells,” you say instead with a smile plastered over your lips. That has both men hollering in each other’s arms, one high and the other quite tipsy from the looks of it, but you’re happy to be their entertainment even if only for a few minutes.

“No wonder Min was fuming! Oh, I’d fucking kill to be a fly in the wall in that room when shit hits the fan.” San exhales a deep sigh, head tipping from side to side as he speaks. His laugh turns airy as he tips his body further back, sinking hard into Hongjoong’s body and knocking them both to the cushions. You don’t share in his amusement, however, as you turn to regard him with a furrowed brow and confusion etched across your features. Hongjoong notices the shift in your expression before San has the chance to.

“You might think about putting a muzzle on that one—” his gaze shifts as discreetly as possible to where Yunho sits “—‘cause he’s a little loose-lipped.”

Your lips draw into a tight purse, pulling to one corner of your mouth. You aren’t really upset about Yunho saying something — neither of you had an agreement on anything of the sort, and you’re smart enough to know how men behave at this point in your life. It is a bit funny though, in your opinion, for Mingi to be the one angry (undoubtedly jealous on top of that) when the two of you simply hook up when there aren’t other options available. You just so happened to have another option available last week, one that was quite hard to pass up on and very much worth the exhaustion and soreness that came the next day.

“Though, I suppose only the two of us know about what you and Min do when left alone.” When you shift to pass a half-hearted glare in Hongjoong’s direction, he’s wearing a shit-eating grin that makes you want to smack him even more. If not for the lengthy stretch it would take to get past the guard dog that drapes over him in the form of Choi San, you would certainly go through all that trouble just to yank his ear a little. Instead of dealing with that, you push up from where you’ve crammed yourself on the couch and move to step around the furniture — not without kicking at Hongjoong’s foot as you pass just because it’s within reach and San is out of it. That creeping lightness coming from the weed is starting to sink into your bones and make you feel everything a little more intensely. “Remember not to mess up the sheets!”

You don’t turn to see if Hongjoong catches the middle finger you send his way, but you do make for the stairs solely with the excuse that you have to use the bathroom planted at the tip of your tongue if anyone asks. Of course, that comes as a shroud to the real reason you’re headed up there, because you know someone will follow and you expect nothing less from him anyway.

The two of you follow a rather simple formula when it comes to parties like these, which is part of the reason San and Hongjoong both know about what you get up to at these events after having been caught in various corners of the house by both men multiple times. And while you are more than willing and able to mess around with the man without anything in your system, you like fucking Mingi best when you’re a little high and can feel every sensation that much more with him. You linger at the top of the stairs before heading straight for San’s room, pausing on the landing to angle yourself over the railing and peer down the flight of stairs as you wait for your companion’s head to pop up. He comes quicker than you expected him to and with a good deal of determination to his steps that makes him look entirely suspicious on all accounts.

“Everyone is gonna guess what we’re up to with you marching up here like that,” you drawl from your spot at the railing, chin coming to rest on the wood as you speak down at him. Mingi hesitates midway up the stairs, and his chin tilts up to find the source of your voice. Despite the grin playing at your lips, he doesn’t return the humor with even a small laugh.

“Good, then maybe they’ll get the hint,” he snips back.

A sigh escapes you, and you turn your head until your cheek presses into the wood. Leaving one hand to dangle by your side, you bring the other up to stretch over the length of the railing. Mingi walks up the rest of the flight of stairs, rounding the edge of the landing with a hand that skates over yours with a barely-there touch. You hum in the back of your throat. He tilts his head to match yours, and although the angle should be wholly awkward and nothing else, you feel that familiar thrum of arousal boiling deep in your gut when he meets your eyes. The sharpness in his tone doesn’t match the way he looks down at you — you know that much for certain, and you can safely take that as a hint that he’s not nearly as upset with you as he is with Yunho.

“Did you do it on purpose?” he asks nonetheless. He’s fishing for an answer you don’t have, but you can’t deny that there’s some sick part of you that wants to play into it and see how possessive he can get. “To make me jealous?”

“Hm.” You pull yourself back into an upright position a little too quickly, and the rush of blood to your head coupled with the tingling in your nerves makes your vision swim some. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.” Mingi moves back to prop himself against the wall opposite the railing, and you make the pointed (and extremely difficult) decision not to eye the tremors in the muscles of his arms as he tugs them across his chest. As your eyes sweep over his torso to focus on his face once more, you shift to let your back rest against the wall the railing provides and secure your hands behind you on the lip of it. “He offered, and I accepted. Simple as that.”

“Simple, huh?” He makes it hard to not give into a wandering gaze when he’s drumming his fingers along the inked skin of his forearm. “Except he’s supposed to know you’re off-limits.”

“I can’t sleep with other people? Maybe I missed the memo that said we’re exclusive, Min.”

“You can sleep with anyone with you want,” Mingi starts, pulling his head forward a little as his gaze turns fiery, “but my best friend can’t sleep with you. And he knows that. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Then that’s not anyone I want, big boy.”

“If he offered, then he’s the one who presented the opportunity.”

“Maybe he was trying to get you to be a real man.”

“A real man?” Mingi echoes, and now his lips stretch to form a grin that displays his teeth. You dip your chin down with a laugh, hand subconsciously coming up to hover over your face. When you blink back up at your companion, he has his tongue pushed between his lips and teases the corner of his mouth, a gesture you know to read frustration. You smile despite yourself. A glint bounces off his tongue and reflects the ball of metal that sits caught between his teeth. “Didn’t know you could be such a brat, angel, you’re usually so good and pliant when I’m fuckin’ you into the mattress.”

“You could try asking Yunho then, princess, I’m sure he’d love to answer any questions you might have given how mouthy he’s apparently been.” Some part of you realizes that you’re pushing your luck perhaps a little too far, but if Yunho is going to talk himself then you believe yourself to have every right to do the same as long as it benefits you. “Did he tell you how he fucked me? How many marks he left on my body? If you look hard enough, I bet you could find some leftover ones.”

“Look, doll, because I know he called you that thinking it was charming—” Mingi shoves himself off the wall and takes a single step in your direction, but that’s enough to have you pulling yourself straighter and swallowing around nothing. “You can let yourself believe he fucked you nice just ‘cause he’s got a dick nearly as big as mine, but you’re up here with me, looking to get fucked by me, and testing me and my patience so I give it to you better than he could ever hope to. But you can keep playing that game and scamper on downstairs to his lap if you wanna. I’ll wait.”

“You know I won’t do that, Min. Not when you’re offering so sweetly like this. But I appreciate how willing you are to let me have whatever I want.” You drop your head to the side and glance down the flight of stairs that’s at your back. There’s no one there — not that you expected there to be — but this shroud of privacy you have with the man can’t last that long when so many people are in the house right now. You aren’t as high as you’d like to be, not as much as usual, mostly because Mingi is making your thoughts clear up bit by bit with each step he takes in your direction. It’s wholly distracting while also keeping you honed in on every little shift in his muscles, from the twitch of his fingers around the railing as he closes in on you to the twitch hanging about the corner of his mouth. “Should I take you up on your offer the way I did with Yunho?”

“I’m a jealous person, darling. If you’re gonna want me, then you’re gonna have to want me the most.”

You let him minimize the distance between your torsos, feeling his feet stop short of yours as he leans over you with the height advantage he has. That alone is a bit dizzying solely because it lets you get an eyeful of his inked arms all the way up to where those strands of tattoos dip under the baggy fabric of his shirt and where his muscles shine through the most.

“Why don’t you look in the mirror, huh?” You push a pout onto your lips as you speak, brows drawing into a tight knot that’s hardly serious, but it makes Mingi’s harshness falter nonetheless. “Showing yourself off like this, how am I supposed to know you’re not trying to get some other girl to want you?”

He catches your bluff a moment later, unfortunately for you because you had hoped to let the charade linger in the air a little while longer, but it turns favorable when he pushes the point of his nose under your jaw.

“I can want you the most, Mingi,” you continue still. Your voice is airy like you’re already out of breath, accompanied by a sweet sigh that makes Mingi nuzzle into your warm skin even more. “Shall I prove it?”

“I shouldn’t give you what you want so easily,” he murmurs against your neck. One of his large hands sweeps up from the railing to move across your collarbone, skating over the skin and up your throat so he can cup the point of your chin and dig his thumb into your lower lip. Your teeth graze his nail but never fully latch onto the digit as he tugs harder at your chin. “Should tease you the way you teased me, but I can’t do that.”

“Do you have other plans for me then?”

Mingi pulls up from your neck at the question, eyes finding yours without hesitation and digging deep into whatever emotion you’re hiding there.

“Oh angel, I have a whole number of plans for you tonight. It’s just a matter of whether you’ll be able to go that many rounds with me.”

You huff out a laugh, partially out of disbelief, and push your tongue between the parted line of your teeth. Mingi pushes his thumb up against the tip of your tongue then and nudges his way into your mouth with little to no resistance on your part. It’s a heady sensation, letting Mingi take over like that, but it’s made even more delicious with the knowledge that you’re fully in control at the end of the night. Even now, you pull his thumb deeper between your lips to let it rest fully against your tongue, and that’s the only thing keeping you from smirking at him while you do so. When you pull off, it’s with a grossly wet pop that sounds far lewder than it should. Mingi’s neck is tinted pink.

“I should’ve done that downstairs for everyone to see, I’m sure.” As an answer to your quip, Mingi pulls his free hand up to rest against the small of your back. He tugs you away from the blunt edge of the railing, leaving you to throw a hand up between your bodies to keep your head from knocking into his chin immediately.

“I don’t want you putting on a show for anyone but me.”

“Now that’s a red flag if I’ve seen one.”

“You gonna not fuck me because of it?” He seems to know your answer without you needing to say it, and without needing to watch the way your eyes roll to the side as you smile. Still, you offer that much, if only because you know there’s a long list of red flags he could point out in return. Ever the gentleman, he doesn’t.

“I think every good girl wants a bad boy, at least a little. I happen to want you a lot.” He’s giving a marvelous show of restraint from your perspective because you can’t imagine a time when he’s gone this long without claiming your lips, but he forgoes that gesture in favor of pulling you to the opposite wall. Your body hits with a soft thud, barely an impact with his hand blocking most of the pressure he gives by nudging a thigh between your legs.

“That’s only applicable if you’re a good girl.”

“Am I not?” Your lip catches between your teeth as you pose the question, and while you’re fully aware of the answer to it, it still fills you with endless delight to see the way Mingi seethes at your audacity to ask such a thing. His hands come down strong on either side of your head — not threatening, but firmly in a way that sends a thrill of arousal straight to your gut. His thigh tenses where it rests between your legs, making it near impossible to ignore the flexing muscles that press right against your clothed crotch. You’re certain he feels it just as much as you do.

“You most certainly are not, darling.”

“What are you gonna do about it then?” His proximity makes it difficult for you to move at all, but when you start inching along the wall in an attempt to get closer to San’s door, Mingi moves like a man possessed, following your movements with his own. “Nothing drastic I hope…?” You sink your teeth into your lower lip, reaching around the edge of the doorframe to grab at the handle.

“I think you’d like it better if I did, yn.”

Your fingers twitch against the cool metal before closing around it.

“Maybe I wanna just hear if you’ve got any bright ideas in that head of yours. You’re usually quite creative with the way we do things, darling.”

“Nothing’s punishment to you. Not when you enjoy it the way you do.” He takes a step back to regard you with a sharp stare, one that is a little ambiguous in terms of emotion and leaves you wondering what exactly is on his mind as he watches you. Still, you take the chance he provides to slip in front of the door and pop it open, releasing the seal on the room and making the tension in the air spike. It becomes something even more enticing, a thing that’s not fully within reach as you have the out you were after, the metaphorical nail in the coffin to get what you’re after, and you know Mingi sees it as such himself because he drags his tongue over his lower lip and lets his gaze wander down your legs. “Would still love to make you cry on my cock though.”

You pause midway through the doorframe to eye Mingi’s expression once more. There’s a sadistic sort of grin toying at the edges of his lips as he looks back at you, dragging his eyes up from your body to land on your face once more.

“Think you can manage it?”

“I know I always do.”

There’s something dirty in the way he kisses you then, tongue breaching the line of your lips with no resistance on your part, and when his tongue presses hot and heavy against yours, you feel something clench tight in your chest. You like it best this way: when he’s rough, when he doesn’t treat you delicately and instead kisses you like it might literally be the last time he can get his hands on you, and perhaps that's what you missed so desperately with Yunho. Mingi knows your body like the back of his hand and knows how to push all your buttons and toy with your strings. Part of you wonders (and is very self-aware about it) if the reason you don’t let things go any further between the two of you is out of an innate fear that things will change if feelings were truly involved. Maybe if love was part of the equation, he wouldn’t be as willing to have you this way, or maybe you wouldn’t enjoy it as much as you do now.

When he pushes you back into the safe privacy of San’s bedroom, you loop an arm around Mingi’s waist and pull him closer into your little bubble of space. The door falls shut behind him quickly and quietly, probably an effort on his part to maintain this little bit of privacy you have. One of these days you have to hand deliver a bouquet of flowers to San for even allowing you access to his room like this, but also for keeping your little secret just that the way he does.

Those thoughts leave you quickly, however, as Mingi’s large hands start to wander lower and skate over the curve of your ass. You groan into his mouth when he squeezes your flesh in his palms. You take the cue to lift your leg along his. There’s a rush of goosebumps over your skin as his hand moves along the line of your hamstring to hook at your knee, and when he rolls his hips towards yours, there’s much more contact this time. The firm bulge of his erection presses between your legs just enough to tease — it’s not nearly enough pressure to bring you the kind of pleasure you’re searching for. Maybe that frustration leaks into your next movements, into the way you kick your leg back down and bring your hands up to Mingi’s tank to push him off you for a moment. His lips part from yours with nothing more than a thin line of spit to connect the two of you but even that doesn’t last long as you fight to change your positions. Mingi lets it happen with a growing smile tugging at the corners of his lips, barely flinching when his knees hit the edge of the bed and make him collapse to the edge of the mattress.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, baby,” he murmurs as you drop to your knees between his legs. A scoff leaves your lips.

“What’s it look like, big boy?”

He hums, hand coming up to comb over your scalp for less than a second before the soft touch turns to a firmer grip that holds you in place for the time being.

“Gonna let me fuck your pretty mouth, yeah?”

Your fingers twitch against where you’ve just let them rest on his pants. It’s hard to maintain the fight you’ve been showing up until this point simply because of how damn pronounced his cock is through those pants, and how fucking badly you want to feel him against your tongue.

“You can work for it, can’t you?” you counter through gritted teeth instead of giving in right away. Still, your hands move against the waistband of his pants and continue with their path to work them down enough to give you some access to his member within. The fingers in your hair hold tighter as Mingi shifts his hips and lets you slide his pants down to the floor.

“Thinking about my cock between those lips.” He sounds a bit dazed already, which would be a new record for you, but it comes with his hand traveling from the top of your head down to your mouth. It doesn’t take much for him to cup your jaw and press the pads of his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. He doesn’t pinch your mouth open as he usually would, even when you pull his length out from its confines. You’re just close enough to kiss the tip, lips staying firmly shut as you tilt your head to wrap your kisses around the side of him.

“You’re always thinking about that though.” You pout just a little; it’s hard to do anything else with the control he has over your face right now. Mingi’s eyes move from your face down to where his cock rests against the curve of your lips. His other hand comes up from the mattress to take the place of the one he just had in your hair, and this time when he pinches your cheeks, your lips part just enough to welcome the leaking tip of his dick into your wet heat.

“Then open wide for me and lemme have it.” You ought to be ashamed of how hot and bothered his voice gets you, something so simple yet incredibly enticing on every level, but there’s no denying how the deep timbre of his voice sends heat right between your legs. You take him deeper into your mouth as his hand falls away from your cheeks. The one in your hair remains although it’s moreso there for him to simply touch because he clearly has no intent on doing any work himself. You don’t mind necessarily, taking your hand to wrap around the inches of his cock you can’t quite fit in your mouth without breaching your throat.

His next groan is much louder than the last little sigh of pleasure he let out, and it comes with him tilting his chin to the ceiling and leaning further back. You watch his movements carefully even with your mouth now fully occupied and hard at work. It’s equally intoxicating to watch him succumb to arousal and pleasure, and although the idea of him blindfolding you and just using his voice and hands to get you off is very enticing, you think you would miss seeing his face contort in pleasure the way it does now. You hollow your cheeks along his length as you pull up, barely stopping at the head of his cock before dipping back down to touch where your hand grips him.

Despite the lack of effort to fuck your mouth, you can see how he’s desperately trying to keep himself from doing exactly that. His lashes flutter as he blinks down between his legs to catch a glimpse of your lips stretched into an ‘o’ around his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” You slip further down on his length, cheeks sucking in around him. “On your knees, taking my big cock like that.” A harder, more pointed suck as you dip your thumb down to trace over the sensitive skin of his balls. “Baby.”

His moans turn almost guttural as you continue until you give him a moment’s rest and tug off him to press your nose along the side of his cock now. You paint his skin with little kisses along the way, tracing over the places you’ve already touched with your tongue. It feels a bit like your nerve endings are being set on fire when he takes both hands to your hair and guides your head back to take his cock into your mouth. The first upwards thrust of his hips is gentle enough: testing and prodding at the limits as well as your well-being before he drives deeper into your mouth. Shock overwhelms you merely because of how quickly he flips the switch on you, and if not for the hand you smartly kept in place at the base of his cock, you would surely choke on his member without warning.

“Don’t wanna cum yet, but fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanna cover your pretty face in cum, wanna ruin you.”

All you can do is moan around his dick and hope that it’s an answer enough for him.

“You like it, princess? Want me to make your makeup run—” he thrusts hard enough to nudge into your throat, and your throat constricts around his tip by sheer instinct “—and mark you nicely with my cum?” Tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes already just from the sheer force of his cock hitting the back of your throat, but there’s also this antsy frustration that is building up in your gut from going this long without any relief of your own. You want him to touch you desperately at this point, so much so that you take it upon yourself to retract a hand to settle between your legs and press against the sensitive nub of your clit through your underwear. Even that slight bit of relief feels so heavenly that you whine around Mingi’s cock. Eyes squeezing shut, you let your jaw go slack as he continues to use your face and work your fingers over your clit until the wetness seeps through the fabric of your panties. “You’re so fucking good, yn, letting me use you like this. Look at you getting off on it too. Like getting used that much?”

A breath of pause in his words where he inhales sharply like he’s weighing what he wants to say next. It works to his advantage because his next statement hits you like a ton of bricks, sharp and pointed and spoken with irrevocable confidence that makes your thighs tremble.

“Knew he wasn’t good enough to please you properly.”

Your moans get louder in volume only because he pulls his cock from the wet cavern that is your mouth but you’re still dazed enough to leave your lips hanging open as your fingers move faster against your cunt. Mingi doesn’t knock your hand away from the base of his length but he wraps a hand over himself nonetheless and jerks over the wet path you left on him. The sounds are sinful as can be, wet and messy to match your equally-ruined expression.

“Close your eyes, princess.” You barely have time to do that much before hot ropes of cum are spilling out over your features, painting your face from forehead to chin with no real direction, and Mingi doesn’t stop until he’s milked his cock for all its worth on you. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

His large hands move to your body, lifting you off your knees with a ridiculous amount of ease, and while you don’t want to, you’re forced to stop touching yourself as he nudges you onto the bed without further ado.

“In me, Mingi, I want you inside—”

“Shh, gotta prep you first, baby girl, I ain’t that heartless.” Even with his sweet consideration, you whine like you’ve been eternally denied what you’re after, fists balling up around the comforter as you press your face into it. Mingi lifts your hips high enough to get you to brace yourself on your knees. It makes your skirt swoop forward, assisted of course by Mingi who shoves the material up over your ass without an ounce of hesitation. The new position is hardly inconspicuous in the slightest, and well beyond the realm of suggestiveness to the point where if any one of your friends were to come in unannounced, you would have no chance of defending yourself from their suspicions. You can only hope that San and Hongjoong both remember to deter anyone from trying to use San’s room for its bathroom because you well and truly don’t want to move from this position at all. The mere thought of Mingi having you like this, bent over your form as he drills into your cunt and pins your wrists to the bed is enough to make your core clench around nothing.

“Just—” you interrupt your own train of thought with a whine that breaches your lips without thought, and Mingi is the one to elicit it from you as he drags the blunt ends of his nails over your ass while tugging your underwear down. “Min…”

“I’m not fuckin’ you until you’re in tears, baby.” If that’s his version of punishment then you consider it to be only mildly effective because you’re frustrated and pent-up enough at this point to where you might just cry for the hell of it to soften him up a bit. But then his fingers come to brush through the line of your folds, skating over the wetness that’s pooled there, and without warning, he pushes two fingers into your fluttering hole. The haste with which he does so has you releasing a noise so embarrassing that you push your cheek further into the sheets in an (ineffective) attempt to hide yourself from Mingi’s prying eyes. “Gotta see you to know when that is, yn.”

You get an eyeful of his half-grin and the sharp curve of his lips, and that’s unfortunately enough for you to tilt your head so that he can see your face a bit better.

“There’s my pretty girl.” The praise goes straight between your legs, making you clench blindly around the fingers Mingi has pumping in and out of your cunt. He curls them at the second knuckle at the same time and prods deeper inside you until he pushes up against the spot that really makes your head spin and vision go blurry. He pays such close attention to that spot that you hardly notice it when he slips a third digit into you. The sole infuriating nuance to his actions is how he doesn’t quite hit your g-spot the way you want him to: not with force or direct pressure. He merely teases the flesh around it, nudging closer and closer to it without quite giving you the satisfaction you want from it. Yet each time you open your mouth to complain about the treatment, he deliberately presses into it with one finger as though to tell you ‘see I’m giving you what you want, you can’t complain‘.

You have to keep your fists balled around the comforter to quell the shaking in your fingers, but your whole body is trembling at this point with how many times Mingi has brought you right to the precipice of a mindblowing orgasm only to steal that heat away and focus on stretching your walls around his fingers.

“H-Haven’t you — Min… come on!”

“Hm? What is it you want, baby girl? I can’t read your mind.”

“Insufferable, you’re so annoying, I can’t stand you, you’re so — ugh!” Perhaps it’s his antics that pluck at your nerves like they’re nothing more than strings for him to play with, but the unending routine of getting closer and closer to your satisfaction without truly getting it reaches its peak as you sob against the mattress and finally let tears fall.

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, yn.” You don’t bother looking back at Mingi’s face when he pulls his fingers out of your cunt, but you are vaguely aware of his other hand coming up to brush over the tears on your cheeks. That only lasts a second before his hand comes down to rest over where yours still clenches the bedsheets so tight that your knuckles bleed white. Another sob tumbles out of you as you feel the blunt tip of his cock pushing up against your slit, and your whole body trembles under Mingi’s weight right after. He sinks his length into you slowly, letting it fill you and stretch you as he pushes inch after inch into you. “Let go of the bed, baby, I’ve got you.” You do as told without complaint or resistance this time. Mingi draws your wrists up higher along the bed until they’re both perched closer to the pillows, then he settles his hips fully against your backside, draping his form over yours.

“F-Fuck me, please, stop — stop making me wait,” you say barely louder than a whisper because your throat already feels scratchy and overused.

“Of course, pretty angel, anything for you.”

The first real drive of his cock into you is maddening at best, a sweet slide of pressure and relief that makes you cry out louder than before, and he continues to build up a steady pace that fills the air with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. You aren’t at all surprised that he’s already hard a second time; he usually pushes you to the limit with how many rounds he likes to go. Equally unsurprising is the way his thrusts quickly lose their rhythm and turn into sharp, punctuated thrusts that threaten to knock your hips all the way down to the bed. He’s muttering quite a bit in your ear — things you aren’t wholly processing because you finally get to chase that sweet pleasure you’ve been denied all this time. You aren’t aware of how noisy you’re being either until Mingi brings a hand down to tilt your mouth closer to the sheets to shush you some. You take it in stride, for whatever that’s worth, and simply clench tighter around his dick as he seeks the angle that will make you see stars.

A white-hot pleasure sears through your system with enough force to make your back curl and have you writhing under Mingi’s weight.

“Got it,” he murmurs behind you, sounding insufferably proud of himself, but you don’t have it in you to chastise him for it. What you do do, however, is free one of your hands to throw it behind you, grabbing for his hip and trying to encourage him to keep at it for your sake. He catches your wrist between his fingers before you have the chance though, and rather than pushing it back to the bed, he simply pins your arm behind your back and uses you as leverage to fuck up against that spot along your walls over and over again.

And in your defense, you don’t usually cum so quickly but he’s been teasing you and riling you up for so long at this point that you don’t find yourself embarrassed in the slightest when your walls start to pulse around his length. The euphoric pleasure is certainly worth it too, the release you were after finally sending shockwaves through your system until your toes curl and your neck hurts from the angle you’ve got it tilted at. Mingi keeps at his pace, only slowed a hair by your cunt squeezing tight around his cock, and he shows no signs of being close behind you until you’re back to sobbing into the mattress. Your core can’t keep pace with the drives of his cock, clenching and fluttering at odd intervals while Mingi chases a second high to pump into you.

“Gonna cum, baby.”

“In — inside, don’t you dare pull out.” Spoken through gritted teeth, you sound a little angry but also choked because of the tears that are still leaking out of your eyes and onto the bed. You aren’t sure if your tone is what pushes him over the edge, but you do catch the glint in his eyes as you inadvertently glare over your shoulder at him, and your only thought is that it’s simply another exciting facet to explore with him later.

His orgasm finally comes, to your relief because it means your cunt finally gets to break from his ruthless pace and the obscene stretch around his length, and it comes with a string of colorful expletives that are spoken through broken groans. You echo his groan albeit very much so not in the same kind of pleasure he’s experiencing as his weight fully collapses on top of you and nearly knocks the air out of your lungs.

“You’re so—”

“Go again?”

“No. For once you oaf, no,” you whine from under him, twisting your body as best you can like it’ll help your case. Mingi has enough energy to laugh, a full and throaty noise that always makes your heart somersault, then he’s peeling his body off yours to let you breathe easy again.

“Was I too rough?”

“Nooo, no, you were so good, Min.” His hands are already wandering to turn you over onto your back. “So fucking good, if I had the energy, I’d want you to do that several more times.”

“Yeah? That so?” He’s laughing again, either at your drawling tone or at the way you curl your arms and legs around his body to get him to lift you off the bed.

“You got cum in my hair…”

“I’ll wash it out for you.”

Showering is a feat in and of itself that you’re almost too tired to accomplish on your own, so when Mingi slips in behind you midway through and finishes washing your skin down, you’re more than a little grateful for the help. Not enough to get on your knees on that tiled floor, but grateful still.

And as is routine at this point, the two of you stumble back to San’s bed in a dark room, tangling yourselves in the sheets together like a perfectly mismatched puzzle.

“When you said maybe Yunho was trying to get me to be a real man… what did you mean by that?”

“Don’t push it, Min.” You can feel the man shifting at your back but the arm resting under your head doesn’t move, and he continues with the soft circles that he’s massaging into your skin with that hand. “We really did fuck though. It’s not some practical joke or just me trying to get under your skin. We fucked, and I liked it, but I didn’t like it the way I like it with you so I don’t think I wanna sleep with him again.”

“He remembered protection, right?”

“Yes, Min, of course he did. And if he hadn’t, I would have.”

Mingi huffs through his nose, a little indignant and very much dramatic, yet he seems to settle down just fine in the following seconds. Warm blooms over your head, a telltale sign of how close his face is to the crown of your head, and he twists his whole body to curl further around yours.

“Let’s keep at it then.”

Internally, you laugh a little solely because of how nonchalant Mingi makes it sound when the subject matter isn’t something as simple as that. Belatedly, you’re struck with a certain realization that makes your blood run cold and has you jerking in Mingi’s hold to look at the side of his face.

“What?”

“San said not to get cum on the sheets and you shoved my whole face in them!”

"It was just the comforter..."

"Just the comforter?!"

[pinkcannibal]

Are you comfortable writing a breeding/heat kink fic, by chance? Maybe a fem!student reader is some type of supernatural creature that experiences heat cycles that's triggered by the touch of a viable mate which happens to be Marilyn Thornhill who she has a massive crush on. Perhaps the reader gets permission to opt out of her classes because of her heat but feeling restless one night, reader goes out to Professor Thornhill's classroom when she thinks Marilyn won't be there to just soak in her mate's scent and presence but Marilyn walks in because she's feeling restless with worry for reader who has been exempt from classes because of some mysterious "illness" that no one will tell her what it is and the reader wouldn't answer the dorm room door when she went to check on her and she's just so worried but she sees the panicked reader just standing there in her classroom and she runs straight to her. And smut occurs.

If you're not comfortable writing this, it's totally ok! Just love your soft mommy!dom Marilyn Thornhill x desperate needy reader fics!

a/n ill be real with you this is my magnum opus. this is my first time writing heat cycles or anything alluding to breeding kink so be pls be kind im learning skdksd but its helping me flex my writing muscles. thanks for the request! hope you like! feedback means the world to me btw <3

-

title: soul-bound

pairings: marilyn thornhill x reader, (werewolf!femreader)

tw/warnings: heavy smut, heat cycles, soulmate dynamic, fingering, face riding, marking, slight breeding kink, praise kink, slight use of 'puppy' as a petname, slight strap idolisation, soft!dom marilyn thornhill, bottom!reader

word count: 5,180

-

Your heat cycle comes two weeks earlier than planned, and it throws you out of equilibrium almost immediately, so jarring and intense that when you wake up and turn in bed, shifting beneath the sheets; you gasp at the realisation. 

God, and you should be used to it by now, this comes with the territory of who you are. Werewolf heat cycles are so common at Nevermore there’s an entire sex-ed class about it, but jesus fuck does yours like to be irregular about it- and you can already tell it’s going to be intense.  

You sit up in bed, face flush at how your heart rate picks up and your stomach warms and your thighs press together – how when you breathe in everything is so fucking heightened its overwhelming.  

You can smell the trees outside, Yoko’s perfume on her clothes, the shower drain, the cool Summer air, the wooden floors of your dorm, the- 

Oh God. Fuck. Is that...? 

You're helpless to the whimper that comes out of you. 

You totally forgot Miss Thornhill visited you yesterday, gifting you another one of her plants with that knee weakening smile and adorable scrunch of her nose. An iris this time, purple and freshly tended to. You have to clamp your palm over your mouth and nose, because Marilyn’s scent is everywhere around it.  

It has you shutting your eyes, a whine begging to cry from your lips and it’s making you needy in a way you’ve never felt before, just her smell enough for you to feel that familiar submissive haze blanket your brain.  

Your eyes water, because there’s a particular type of cruel torture in having a mate you can never touch, or taste, or please. You need Marilyn’s approval, her hands, her voice; to fill every part of you until you feel whole again. And having that just out of reach? It makes you feel...fuck it makes you feel incomplete.  

You suddenly remember that time Enid confided in you about Wednesday, how being so close yet so far away from someone hurts. 

“It sucks knowing you’ll be a lone wolf forever. Trust me, I know.” 

You don’t realise how fast your breathing is, close to a pathetic type of pant, until your alarm goes off and you startle.  

You’re suddenly thankful Yoko has left already, you can’t imagine how awkward it would be to have a vampire witness this. How desperate you are, how just at the thought of Miss Thornhill has pheromones bleeding from you, something not even the strongest wolf could ignore.  

Jesus, you may as well have a neon sign pointed to your heart saying I need my mate to breed me so bad it’s pathetic. 

You decide right then and there, going to Marilyn’s class would be a death wish, you’d probably drop to your knees as soon as you saw her with your mouth open, begging for her fingers with wide doe eyes as you squirmed. And she’d look at you, she’d be so tender when she makes love to you and fucks you and tells you “You’re so pretty, sweet girl. Such a pretty pup for me, aren’t you?” 

Oh, god.  

The thought has slick rushing to your centre, and you blush so hard at the idea that you have to physically stop yourself from shaking. You whine, immediately grabbing your phone and opening your school emails. You submit a form to Principle Weems, explaining your situation as quickly as possible because your hands are sweating and shaking.  

As always, she’s incredibly understanding, receiving these kinds of forms every so often. You’re exempt from classes for the week duration of the cycle, and just knowing you still have five days of this is fucking torture.  

You know you can’t have the full satisfaction of Marilyn looking after you, breeding you (that thought makes you even wetter as you throb) but it’s worse to know you can’t even nest and ride out the wave of it in your mate's scent. You have nothing of Miss Thornhill’s besides the flower, and sometimes thoughts like these make you flush with shame. 

She doesn’t even know you feel this way, or that she is this to you. And fuck, would she even want you? Accept you? You can’t think of anything worse as a werewolf than the rejection from a mate, what do you do if presented with that? Who are you without them?  

Because sometimes you swear Miss Thornhill recognises the compatibility, you swear her head tilts and she breathes you subtly in when you smile at her and tuck your hair behind your ear. How she softens when you’re near, how sometimes when she passes by your desk and leans down to you, her hand finds your lower back protectively, like in her own way she was telling everyone in your life you’re hers. 

One time, you bumped into her at Jericho and she fixed her glasses and when she noticed it was you, she beamed, and you honest to god swooned at how happy she was to see you. And Marilyn’s hand squeezed your bicep in greeting, a little too intensely to be normal, and your eyes glazed over in utter devotion. 

The thoughts make you feel small, like you could cry, so you curl back under your covers and try and hang onto the lingering trace of her on the iris, squeezing your eyes shut with need. 

- 

It becomes downright unbearable on day three.  

Three days is all you could hack, it’s almost as if you’ve come down with a fever; you’re hot and feverish and panting, almost fucking bed ridden because of how bad it is. Having a mate who hasn’t claimed you is maddening, and you’re realising very quickly you don’t know how you’re going to survive more of this.  

Yoko couldn’t stay for long, opting to room with Divina for the week. You toss and turn and groan into the sheets, slamming your fists down against your mattress and feeling tears burn the back of your eyelids because you dreamt Marilyn kissed you, bit down on the space between your neck and shoulder and covered you in her scent.  

You can’t take it anymore.  

You get up, tossing on a sleep shirt and shorts hastily over your bralette and underwear. You blush, knowing this is pathetic and sad but maybe, just maybe, if you walk into her classroom it’ll help. Because the iris doesn’t do it anymore and you need something stronger, the submissive part of your werewolf brain is constantly just howling in need now.  

It’s almost midnight, and you hope with all of your heart her room is unlocked. 

When you make it to the conservatory, you try the handle and sigh in relief at it opening. You don’t have long to dwell on how pathetic you feel, because- 

The wave of calm that hits you takes your breath away. You stumble a little, catching yourself on a nearby desk and closing your eyes on a groan; you breathe in deep, the scent of Miss Thornhill overwhelms you, has your knees weak and heart beating from your chest. Fluttering your eyes open, you walk further in, to her desk and you bite your lip because her green coat is just there on her chair. 

You swallow thickly at how it all immediately has your chest yearning for her, when you reach out and grab the fabric you allow yourself a moment to feel guilty, and embarrassed, blushing the whole way down to your neck.  

Then you bring it up to your nose and inhale and- 

You whine, high pitched and like siren call.  

You shut your eyes immediately at everything of her flooding your senses. She smells earthy, like her plants and rain, but there is something underneath it that is so sweet; so distinct to the smell of a bonded mate. Marilyn’s is like liquorice, black liquorice, it’s heady and warm and makes you want to be good. The slick that gathers between your thighs is immediate, has you flushing with need and shifting on the spot.  

The switch is instant, and you realise fuck, oh god, maybe coming here wasn’t as smart as you thought.  

You drop into subspace like an anvil, scrunching up her coat in your fingers and closer against your nose and you collapse against her desk, leaning back against it. You’re shivering, you know, because your wolf is begging to be claimed, to be bred, to be looked after and held and marked by your mate. 

You don’t get a moment to calm it down before the conservatory doors open again.  

You startle, looking up, you lower the coat from your mouth and nose and have two seconds to register just who walked in.  

Marilyn shuts the door behind her, and you blush red across your cheeks caught like a deer in headlights when she turns.  

You have to hold yourself up on her desk with your free hand because now that she’s here you can’t- oh god you can’t breathe. And your body feels like it’s going to melt into the floor.  

The other woman jumps a little too, not expecting anyone as she places her hand to her chest and breathes out, shutting her eyes briefly.  

“God, you startled me, sweetie.” Marilyn chuckles slightly, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. It’s awfully late, why are you-” 

But Miss Thornhill’s gaze immediately shifts to concern, because your eyes are watering at her just being near you. The other woman mistakes your flushed cheeks and shaking body for fear, and it’s almost instant how she parts her lips in worry and rushes to you.  

You gasp, widening your eyes and pressing closer to the desk. You bite your lip to stop the desperate whimper wanting to escape. She takes your biceps in her hands, squeezes softly, and Marilyn ducks her head slightly and her hazel eyes are saying talk to me, please, and you are powerless to whatever she wants from you in this state.  

“Oh, dear. Honey.” She begins carefully, and you swoon at how protective she sounds. Marilyn reaches up and tucks a stray piece of your hair behind your ear and it opens the floodgates, you swallow thickly and choke as you try and speak.  

She’s so close. Any closer and you’re going to fall to your knees. Marilyn then briefly fixes her glasses in a rare display of bashfulness. “I just, well. I got so worried when you didn’t show up for class. It’s very uncharacteristic of you. Are you...are you okay?” 

“I-” You part your lips to answer, voice cracking on your desperation. Marilyn notices your reaction, softening.  

“I just, I’m s-sorry, I came here looking for you because, I...” You flounder for an excuse, and it’s then Miss Thornhill notices her coat clutched against your stomach.  

You flush, following her gaze as she parts her lips in surprise.  

Miss Thornhill softens, laughing lightly as she fixes her glasses. “You came here to steal my jacket?”  

Marilyn teases, and it breaks the tension a little but all it does is make you feel mortified, so you duck your head and stutter, trying not to whimper as you shove her coat into her hands and move to leave.  

Miss Thornhill blinks in surprise to you at the action, you’ve never dismissed her so easily, and she frowns instantly in concern as she places her jacket on her desk.  

“Please, just-” You don’t know what you’re trying to say, she’s just so close and you need her.  

“I'm okay. I promise. I need to go, I-” Your voice cracks, because your heat is flaring at her proximity and how her protective concern is making it worse. You turn to leave, but her warm hand is taking you by the bicep and halting you softly. 

You whimper, tugging as tears spring to your eyes in your desperation. “Marilyn, please I-” 

“Sweetheart,” She starts, shaking her head softly in confusion.

“What’s wrong? Tell me. Let me help.” Marilyn pleads softly, and you sink, deeper and deeper into where you yearn to be.  

“You’re shaking.” The other woman breathes out, eyes so caring as she then pulls you closer and back to her; then she tips over the line between you and you fall. 

Because she brings you into a hug, and you gasp so hard when her arms wrap around you and you feel her chest press up against yours; and your nose is shoved into her neck, red hair spilling all around you.

Her scent is overwhelming, and you don’t have any strength left in you, none at all as you breathe in deep, circle your arms around her too, and moan softly into her skin. 

Your senses pick up how her breath hitches, how blood rushes to her cheeks at the sound. She pulls back, and you feel your stomach flip at how her hazel eyes have darkened. Her lips part, like she was weighing what to say.  

“Honey,” Marilyn starts, and there’s this tone in her voice you can’t say no to. It has your eyes flickering to her lips, desperate and doe eyed. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

Yes, you think. Yes, I’ll do anything for you.  

Before you can think better of it, the words spring from your lips at her gentle, warning command.  

“M’in heat.” You slur, throat bobbing as you shyly look to her neck instead of her eyes because as much as your inner wolf wants to do what Marilyn says, you’re heating up in shame and embarrassment.  

Marilyn’s eyes narrow in confusion. “You’re in...?”  

Then, her expression eases into realisation. “Oh.” 

You shut your eyes briefly, reopening them and seeing her toss a questioning look to her coat on her desk. “But you were...with my...?”

You watch Miss Thornhill put the pieces together in her mind, how it slowly dawns on her and you almost start begging for her, because Marilyn softens into this sympathetic look, breathing out an “Oh, sweet girl.” that you swallow thickly at.  

Then her hand cups your cheek, and you deflate with need, nuzzle into her palm with a mewl. Your head goes foggy with arousal, your heat is flaring and flaring you’re drenched with slick at this point as you look up, and Marilyn’s eyes are so warm and dark and enraptured, for you.  

You have no idea how you got here, how this is real; but you aren’t questioning it, you aren’t running away from this, ever. 

“I’m sorry,” You say, voice cracking in places. “I know it shouldn’t be you but it is and I can’t-I couldn’t do anything about it.” You say.  

“I need you,” You whine out, desperate and a little pleading. “I need you and it hurts Mari, please. Please.” 

“God,” The other woman breathes out, and you can hear how fast her heart beat is, how her eyes dilate and how Marilyn’s scent changes all together. It’s so musky, sweet and alluring, you want to be covered in it.  

Her hand falls to your hips, thumbs riding up a little underneath your sleep shirt and you’re suddenly hyper aware how short your shorts are, because when she moves forwards you feel the material of her jumpsuit rub against your thighs, how the top buttons of her blouse are open baring warm, pale skin. You gasp softly as she traps you against her desk. 

“You’re in heat...for me?” She says, like she needed clarification, to know that if she kisses you how far it’ll go.  

And you almost buckle at how gravelly her voice has dipped. You nod, fingers white knuckling on the edge of her desk behind you.  

“You.” Is what you breathe out in confirmation, voice shaking. There’s no one else. You want to say. It’ll only ever be you.  

Miss Thornhill bites her bottom lip lightly, tilting her head, and your eyes zero in on the movement.  

“Do you need me to look after you, baby?” Marilyn asks, and fuck, it’s all degrading and soft and kind and you want her to always call you these names. You whine, almost breaking your neck with how fast you nod.  

“Yes, please. Please.” You beg, you’re way past caring how whiny you sound. Your brain is just flooded with breed me, I’m yours. Only yours. And you know she’s only human and that’s another cruel twist of fate for you, but you don’t care. It’ll be enough. She’s enough. 

As if reading your mind, Marilyn's fingers at your hips dip into the waistband of your shorts, playing with the hem as she sits patiently and waits for your consent. “What will help? Tell me how you need me, sweetie.” 

Your desperate eyes flick down to her lips.

“K-Kiss me,” You say, barely above a whisper, and before you can beg her and get on your knees just for her to touch you, Miss Thornhill softens, leaning close and taking your lips in hers.  

It’s fucking fireworks, something inside of you just, clicks into place. You immediately reach up, grabbing for a lifeline, fisting her red hair in your hands and she groans. Her tongue is inside your mouth before you can gasp, and she tastes exactly how she smells; that sweet earthy scent you gulp down.  

You deepen it, pulling her so close your hips knock and it's so hungry because you’re throbbing, you think you might die if she doesn’t fuck you right now.  

You buck, push your body closer, Marilyn’s breath is hitching and she’s making these soft noises that your werewolf preens at.  

You’re feverish and slick and you don’t even think when you grab for her hand at your hip, urging her beneath the waistband of your shorts with this desperate grunt, that turns into a mewl as Marilyn breaks the kiss and breathes against your lips.  

“Fuck,” You watch her throat bob, an unrestrained desire in her brown eyes with how you whine for her, force her inside you and- 

You buckle forwards, resting your forehead on her shoulder as you gasp, shut your eyes in pure euphoria as she enters you with two fingers, slipping so easily inside your slick that the sensation makes Marilyn gasp.  

You clutch to her shoulders, moaning into her neck, and the constant anxiety from your heat is melting away in your mates' arms, you feel so right and full and you need more, you know she can’t knot you but the thought is enough to make you sink on her fingers harder, making Miss Thornhill whimper. 

“J-Jesus, baby,” She moans, high pitched as she curls her fingers inside you, forearm straining with the effort.  

“You’re so wet. This is all for me?” She asks, in awe, like she couldn’t believe you’re real. 

When you look up, you nod, panting as you ride her. As the desk keeps squeaking with her thrusts. As you gulp down her scent mixing with yours and then you pick up on the thick, overwhelming scent of her arousal and your entire body shakes.  

You hold to her forearm, just to feel the muscles flexing with her effort, and it makes you soak her fingers even more when you feel the definition under your fingers from where her sleeves are rolled up.  

Then she’s gently urging you harder against the desk, enough that you hop up onto the edge so she can slot between your spread legs. The new angle has you gasping, eyes watering in arousal.  

“Mari,” You whine out, slurred and hazy. Marilyn is enamoured by you, not slowing down her thrusts as you near your peak; her thumb rubs deep and hard at your hardened clit, enough for you to see stars but you can’t come. You don’t have your dominant’s permission. You can’t until she marks you until she scents you in her own way.  

She kisses you again, making you chase her lips when she pulls back to speak.  

“Oh, sweetheart,” She moans. “What do you need? I’m here. Tell me.” Marilyn says, as desperate as you are for you to come.  

Her lips part, eyes suddenly vulnerable as she fucks you. “This...this is new for me too.” She admits, and you whimper lightly as you cup her cheek and buck against her fingers. “Is this enough? Do you need more, baby? Is that it?” 

You nod, hard and fast, it makes her soften as you gasp out. “M-More. Deeper too, please.” 

Then, Marilyn’s adding a third finger and your eyes roll to the back of your head.  

The guttural moan that leaves you shocks you, has Miss Thornhill whimpering against your ear. You fall forwards again, needing to rub to her neck and scent her skin. You slur into her neck that ‘More, s’good, feels, fuck-” and Marilyn’s heart beat is loud beneath her neck.  

You’re so close, you’re so close but you know you’re missing that one thing you need. Pulling back, doe eyed and needy, you shyly pant against her lips.  

“Mari. Mari. N-Need you to-” Your breath hitches, because Marilyn curls impossibly deeper and has you seeing white.  

“I need you to mark me.” You rush out, breathless and dripping down her fingers as you swallow thickly and wait for her reply.  

Marilyn opens her mouth in shock, eyes blinking back to you beneath her glasses. You whine, because she’s slowed down at your words and she’s blushing and you’re so, so in love with her.  

“Darling, but-” She shakes her head softly, sending you a tender, searching look. “I thought that was for- but I’m not your...” 

Mate. 

You bite your lip, shuffling closer and grinding against her fingers almost to make a point and Marilyn shuts her eyes on a tiny moan when you kiss her again, breathe against her mouth that- 

“You are.” You say, and the truth of that statement has this needy noise leave your lips. “You are and I-” You swallow, watch Marilyn’s hazel eyes shine back to you in both shock, love, and adoration.  

“I need you to mark me. Make me come. Make me yours.” You plead, and the other woman is kissing you again with a fever that you gasp at.  

Her soft, deep thrusts start again and her lips trail from your mouth to your neck and you bare it to her on instinct, tendon tight against the skin of your neck and you feel Marilyn softly, tenderly, kiss down the area to where she pulls the neckline of your shirt away, exposing your collarbone as she fucks you against her desk and you suddenly want to cry at the display.  

And then- 

Marilyn’s teeth sink into your skin, at the area where your shoulder meets your neck. Her canines bite down on the muscle and you moan so deep it turns into a sob. You clutch to her back, her claim so sudden and raw and overwhelming that your heart thuds, hard and fast in your chest for her. You don’t know if she knows how much this is for you, how sacred it is for a werewolf. 

You suddenly want even more of her, an impossible amount, you want her knot or her fingers in your mouth or her strap. 

“Oh, god-” You moan out, tears springing to your eyes at the pleasure and the pain and the feeling flooding you. You feel Miss Thornhill pull back in worry, stuttering in concern, like she hurt you.  

“Fuck, baby, I’m sorry. Was that-?” 

“No!” You rush out to say, desperate to have her teeth back where she was.  

“A-Again,” You shyly say, watching Marilyn’s eyes darken and her lips part in surprise. “Want it again, please, don’t stop. It’s so good. Feels-” 

Marilyn groans, thigh meeting the thrusts of her hands to fuck you harder and you rock faster against the sensation, choking on a high-pitched whimper. Her tone drops, head tilted as she takes the sight of you in, like she was devouring you.  

“Feels what, puppy?” She says innocently, and that word makes you sink, speechless as the subspace takes you over.  

“Oh,” Marilyn softens, degrading and gentle all the same. Her eyes glint back to you, gloating in this new found reaction. “You like it when I call you puppy, sweet girl?” She mocks. 

You start to sob, so close to coming it’s hurting. You nod, biting your lip and feeling her hit so deep it takes the breath from your lungs. Marilyn presses ever closer, kissing you and tasting your tongue and biting hard to your bottom lip. 

“Come for me, puppy.” She moans, breathless at the sight of you. “Come all over my fingers, now honey.” Marilyn demands. “Come for me like the good girl you are.” 

It crashes into you, gushing onto her fingers as your orgasm takes over. The slick dripping down your thighs and her fingers is thick and heady, you moan and mewl into her neck, feel your walls clench around her and your claiming bite burns and throbs. 

She tenderly helps you ride it out, hushing you sweetly as you pant into her neck and nuzzle into her sweat slicked skin. You clutch her so close, nose the area, bathing in her scent and smiling so wide at the feeling and fuck, before you realise it your throat rumbles on a purr.  

You’re purring. 

You blush, hoping she didn’t notice, and relax in relief when Marilyn simply kisses the side of your head, down to your cheek, and your lips and jawline. Her thrusts slow down, pulling out and making your breath hitch.  

“You okay?” She gently murmurs, making you pull back and soften.  

You nod, breathing out, lovestruck and dizzy as you smile shyly, huff on a laugh. “Y-Yeah. More than okay. Perfect.” 

Marilyn’s eyes warm, lips quirking up on this tender smile aimed at you and suddenly you want to make her feel good, that part of you made only for the other woman yearns for it. You shift on her desk at the instant need, and Marilyn takes that as a sign that you want her fingers taken out.  

She furrows her brows, softly apologises, slowly pulling out and you whimper at not feeling filled by her anymore. Then you glance down and see her fingers coated in your slick, your heat, and your throat croaks on a whine as you look to them needily.  

Marilyn tilts her head at your reaction, blushing when she realises what you want.  

“Fuck, you want my fingers, sweetie?” She asks, voice husky and dipped in arousal. You nod, not even thinking twice as you obediently open your mouth for her fingers coated in your cum, eyes looking up to her beneath your wet eyelashes.  

Your doe eyed look has the other woman’s heart beat pick up, and as Miss Thornhill rests two of her fingers at your bottom lip, pulling it down gently, her eyes are an inky blackness. Your tongue darts out to taste yourself, eyes closing on a groan as you lean forwards and take them fully in your mouth.  

You wrap your lips around her digits, sucking and moaning in ecstasy and it has you throbbing again when you open your eyes, see the effect of you deep throating Marilyn’s fingers has on her. She starts to pump softly, completely and utterly enraptured by you and when you choke lightly, eyes watering, it breaks something inside of you.  

You let go of her fingers with a moan and hop down from the desk, flipping your bodies as Marilyn gasps and blinks in surprise to you. She steadies herself on the edge of it, palms clenching the wood between her fingers. 

“Darling girl, what are y-” 

Then you sink to your knees and Marilyn parts her lips, breath hitching at the sight. You look up to her, leaning back on your haunches and biting your lip in need. You can’t even wait for permission, just immediately unbuckling her belt around the jumpsuit and reaching up to her hips.  

Marilyn moans softly at the sight, lets you unbutton it down, down, until she shrugs out of the top half and it’s pooling at her mid-thigh; and her chest is heaving against the restraints of her black bra.   The plane of her stomach rises and falls with her breaths, the soft skin of her lightly defined abs is so alluring, you want to lick and bite and suck at the swell of her ribcage.  

She shyly fixes her glasses and shifts on the spot, hand coming down to run through your hair softly and you suddenly want to make her feel as loved as you do.  

The smell of her arousal has you whimpering, has you just losing all sense of control as you press forwards, pulling down the waistband of her underwear that are soaked; tongue darting out to taste her as Marilyn gasps. The other woman chokes on this moan, fist tightening in your hair making you mewl into her as she rides your face.  

You suck her clit, moan when she startles at the sensation and bucks harder into you and your hands come to her thighs, holding her in place against your mouth and tongue.  

“Oh my god,” Miss Thornhill pants out, when you chance a look at her, eye lids fluttering open briefly, you see the defined angle of her jawline as she tilts her head back and her throat bobs. 

“Baby, you-” Her words break off into a needy whine, head tilting back down as she watches you go down on her. “There, right there, don’t stop. That’s it. Jesus, such a good girl.” 

The praise has you preening, a little dumbed down and blushing as you work your mouth harder against her. Here, you think of wanting her strap, and almost come at the thought of sucking the length and taking her like this – you wonder if she’d come at the sight of your lips wrapped around her cock. 

Marilyn tastes so good, you want to always be drenched in this, down to your chin and neck, like you are now.  

Then, her hand in your hair tugs, fisting, and she suddenly comes against your mouth with a breathless gasp, your name on her lips moaned over and over.  

You swallow her, moaning at the taste, and you pull back when she urges you to with her hand in your hair. You obediently sit back, still kneeling, looking up to your mate with starry eyes and her come on your lips and Marilyn’s chest rises and falls; like she realises just exactly what you both have started.  

Then she pulls you up to her, a little desperately, and kisses you; her warm tongue is in your mouth and both of your arousals mingle together in the kiss.  

It tastes like ambrosia, like honey, something you’ve been needing, searching for, your whole fucking life.  

-

[crimson-calligraphyx]

Tag List: @cheyfi @kingdomof-omens @daylightlvrs @blade-in-red @jay02bo @itsmrsfuentes @cncohshit @catj422 @lma1986 @chels3a-smile @kiwi475 @cookiesupplier @timid-raccoon

I've been miserable ever since Noah left for the make-up shows from when they had to cancel due to his illness. Sleeping was hard without him, having been using him as a body pillow—we didn't think to grab an actual body pillow, not realizing how reliant I was of Noah for sleeping purposes.

Which is exactly why I was currently dragging one through the front door of our home all while simultaneously grabbing the mail. And grabbing my phone from my back pocket now that Noah was calling.

"Hey," I huffed into the receiver once through the door and threw the pillow onto the couch. "How are we doing?" he asks, a smile evident in his voice. "Good," I smiled lightly to myself; I loved hearing him say 'we' instead of just 'you', knowing he was not only asking about me, but the baby, too. "Tired, but good." "Still not sleeping well?" "Nope, so I bought a body pillow. Hopefully it helps." "Hopefully. But hopefully not too well that you won't snuggle me anymore," he laughs.

I put my phone on speaker and chuckled, shaking my head as I sat down on the couch with the mail in my hands, and flipped through it. There were mostly pre-approvals for credit cards amongst other junk, but one piece in particular caught my attention. It was addressed to me, the returning address of my childhood home back in Virginia, but the name made my heart skip a beat.

Warren Foster

"What the fuck?" I questioned under my breath, immediately tearing it open to read the letter and coming face-to-face with my name written in an all-too familiar script. The first few lines had tears pooling in my eyes and my hands trembling.

My dearest Heather Olivia,

If you are reading this, then I am no longer on this earth, but I am still watching over you. I had Mom keep this so she could give this to you when you needed it most.

My lips quivered and I squeezed my eyes shut, tears now rolling down my cheeks. I couldn't bear to read the rest of it right now and put it back in its envelope, tossing it on the coffee table. I brought a hand to my mouth and tried to stifle the cry I let out, but it was of no use. I couldn't hold my emotions back.

"Liv, why are you crying?" Noah asks calmly before his panic-stricken voice cuts through my hysterics. "Oh my God—are you in labor?" I shake my head 'No', though he can't see it. "Do I need to book a flight back home?" I choke out a 'No'. "Answer me, please, you're freaking me out." I suck in a choppy breath and let out one last sob before trying to answer him. "I-I got a letter from...from my dad." "What the fuck?" He sounded just as shocked as I was. "But your dad is—" "I know," I cut him off. He didn't need to say it.

Dead. My dad is dead, and I never got to see him before he went. Each time that thought crossed my mind, it was like a sucker punch to my chest. I'm back to hysterics in no time.

"Fuck, Olivia, I'm sorry. What did the letter say?" "I-I couldn't read it," I whimpered. "I read the first two lines and put it down. Said he gave it to Mom for her to give me when I needed it most." In a sense, it was comforting. Dad was thinking of future me before he passed, Mom was thinking of me during my pregnancy. She knows the doubt that I sometimes feel, and I'm assuming there was something in that letter that would be uplifting. But I couldn't read it. Not alone.

"What can I do for you?" Noah's voice is soft. "Bring my dad back, just for a minute," I mumbled, fresh tears welling in my eyes. He sighs deeply. I can picture him combing the front of his hair back with his hand. "You know I can't do that, love. I wish I could." "I know," I whisper dejectedly. "I can't wait for you to come home." "I'll be home to you two in no time, I promise." I sniffle, wiping the back of my hand under my nose. "Okay. I'm gonna try to relax some," I huffed. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asks warily. "Yeah, I'll be okay. I love you." "I love you, too. I'll call you later, alright?"

We hung up and I picked up the letter once more, bringing it and the pillow with me into our bedroom. I shoved the piece of mail into my nightstand so I didn’t have to look at it; it was tempting to read, but I know that I wouldn't be able to contain myself if I read it alone. I couldn't have it tip me over the edge and lead to...that.

I sighed and made my way to my bathroom, deciding to take a quick bath to help calm me some. I ran the water and threw some Epsom salt in, all while making sure the water didn't get too hot. I stripped of my clothes, piled my hair on top of my head, and carefully lowered myself into the tub.

It took a moment or two to get situated, trying to find a comfortable way to rest as he wriggles about in my belly. "I love you, but you gotta chill out, dude," I chuckled quietly, and I swear he retaliates with a swift kick to my side. "Asshole," I glare at my stomach, only to laugh at my foolish banter with my belly. I ran a hand over my bump, feeling him start to settle a bit, and I let out a slow breath as the warmth encased me, my eyes falling shut.

I didn't bathe for very long; one of the downfalls of being pregnant is that I couldn't for more than 15 minutes, and I loved taking long baths. As short lived as it was, it certainly helped me calm down—after dressing and getting comfortable with the body pillow, I was out like a light.

-

After a few days of using it, the pillow was easily becoming my best friend, and when I felt it begin to slip from my grasp, I grumbled and clung onto it. I nuzzled my face into the side of it, my arm and leg hooked over it tightening their hold. There was a muted chuckle as I sighed peacefully once I got comfortable again, feeling myself start to fade back into sleep.

In my sleep riddled haze, I can feel the bed dip behind me, but I paid no mind to it. Not until I felt a comforting heat on my back, a ghost of a tingle running down my spine when my hair was brushed away from my neck, a pair of warm lips left in its wake. I whined, bringing my shoulder up to hinder them from tickling me, and a deep chuckle vibrated against my back.

"Hey, love," Noah's velvety voice whispers in my ear. With my eyes still shut, I smile. "Hey. You're home early." "I am," he concurs, leaving a kiss on my cheek. "Took the earliest flight that I could after the last show." I shift, blindly bringing my arm behind me to lace my fingers through his hair, scratching lazily. "Why?" I peek my eyes open, and I can just barely make out his face from the moonlight filtering from the skylight. He grins at me. "To make sure you two are alright," he tells me simply, his large hand splaying over my belly.

I hum, giving him a kiss on his chin, and my eyes flutter shut once more.

"I take it the pillow worked well for you," he says after a moment of silence. "Mhm. I might choose it over you now." I muse, smirking. "Oh, hell no," he grumbles playfully. He slips it from between my legs and tosses it off the bed, landing in a soft thud. He shifts so he's on his back and gently rolls me towards him, my leg instinctively settling over him. "Mine," he states, tightening his arm around me. I laugh, shaking my head against his chest, laying a kiss wherever my lips landed. "Yours."

In the morning, I woke up in the same position; his arm around me, my head nestled against his chest and my leg over top of him.

I glanced up at him, admiring the peacefulness painted on his face as he continued to snooze. With his jaw slack and lips parted, quiet snores sounded from him, and I knew he was exhausted from returning home in the middle of the night. The sunlight pouring over him hadn’t bothered him one bit—usually he’d wake up the second it hit his face.

I carefully removed his arm from around me so as to not disturb him, trying my best to roll as gracefully as I could off his body. It wasn’t quite as easy as it used to be, now with a basketball for a stomach, and I more or less scooted my way out of bed praying I didn’t wake him. When he didn’t so much as stir, I made my way to the bathroom before our son decided to wake up and kick my bladder.

Once I had finished my business and exited our bathroom, I was surprised to see Noah had woken up, him lazily rubbing his eye with his fist. “Good morning,” he croaked, and I immediately apologized for waking him. “You didn’t wake me,” he tells me with the shake of his head, but I’m almost certain I did. “Did you sleep alright?” I smiled lightly, making my way back over to him. I raked the front of his hair back and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Best sleep I’ve gotten in two weeks.” He takes hold of my hand and presses his lips to the back of it. “Good,” he mumbles against me, and I can feel his lips curl into a smile.

It had been such a short amount of time, but God did I miss waking up to his sheepish, sleep-filled grin and hooded eyes, and the raspiness in his voice that came with the day’s first words.

“Would you like some breakfast?” I asked him. He groans quietly as he sits up, stretching his hands high above his head. “Sure, love, that would be great.” I grin at him before making my way to the kitchen with him following behind me. "What do you feel like having?" "Whatever you feel like having," he sidles up behind me, his arms snaking under mine with his hands settling on my belly. His thumbs run against me in gentle sweeps as he kisses the back of my head. "Hmm...how does French toast sound?" "Sounds perfect."

He unravels himself from me so I can start cooking, persistently asking if I'd like help. I denied him each time; eventually he gave up and parked his ass at the table like I kept telling him to.

With Noah off my back, it doesn’t take very long to set plates down for both of us, and I join him at the table, taking the syrup after he was done dousing his toast with it. He digs in as I put a normal amount of syrup on my breakfast, and I chuckle when he groans after the first bite.

“Good?” I smirk. “So good,” he mumbles through a mouthful. I rolled my eyes, wishing he’d stop talking with his mouth full. “I haven’t had a home cooked breakfast in far too long.” I snort, shaking my head. “It’s been two weeks, Noah.” “And? I missed your cooking…amongst other things,” he winks.

Heat rises to my cheeks at his insinuation, and I hide my smile by taking a bite of the toast. He laughed, and I knew he could see the blush crawling over my face.

“Sorry, I had to,” he snickers. “On a serious note, have you read your letter from…your dad?” He hesitates on the tail end of his question, and my heart leapt to my throat from the mention of it alone. “No, not yet,” I mumble dejectedly, my gaze dropping to the food in front of me. I circle my fork through the puddle of syrup on my plate, swirling the trail of cinnamon into it. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home. I can’t do it alone.”

“Hey,” he says quietly, his fingers grazing over my knuckles to gain my attention. I bring my eyes back to him, seeing his chocolate irises glistening with generosity. “You don’t have to do it alone, I’m here now.” “I know,” I nod shallowly, placing my fork down on my plate to lace my fingers with his.

He gave my hand a squeeze to which I returned, a faint smile grazing my lips as a sense of security washes over me. He was the courage and comfort that I needed for a moment like this, and I was more than grateful for his understanding about it.

I decided after breakfast that we could read it together. He helped me clean up, loading and starting the dishwasher as I wiped down the counter and put the ingredients back to their designated areas. When we were finished in the kitchen, he took my hand in his and asked where I wanted to read it, and he guided me back to our bedroom when I answered him.

I opened the drawer that I had shoved it in two weeks prior and took it out—it was the heaviest thing I have ever held. My eyes immediately watered as I stared at my father’s name on the returning address. Noah slips the envelope from my hand and places it on the nightstand before taking my hands and sitting on our bed.

“Come here, love,” he says in a hushed tone. “Let’s get you comfortable and I can read it to you. How’s that sound?” All I could do was nod as he sat back on the pillow he propped up, his hands pulling me gently into his embrace. I rest my head on his chest, and he reaches for the letter, bringing it to his view. “Ready?”

I take a deep breath, nodding against Noah’s chest as fresh tears fill my eyes from anticipation. He gives me a reassuring kiss on the top of my head before he flips it open, clearing his throat. He read the first two sentences that I had beforehand, and I closed my eyes, my tears spilling and staining his shirt.

“From the day you were born, I knew just how special you were. You easily became the littlest love of my life, my precious baby girl, who later became my Christmas Angel…I’m sure you remember that one time we took down the tree trying to put the topper on it.”

I couldn’t help the choked-up giggle after Noah read the last sentence, the memory was still so fresh in my mind. He pressed his lips against my head once more before he continued reading.

“You blossomed into the most beautiful, courageous, and strong-willed woman that I know you still are to this day, and I enjoyed watching you grow as the years passed. I cherished them.

I remember all the tough days you had when you were in school, how badly you wanted to give up when studying became too overwhelming, or when you didn’t get the grades you wanted on your tests. But with tears in your eyes, you pushed yourself through it, and you passed with flying colors by the end of it all.

The same thing goes for when you got the job for the city. I knew how scared you were, I knew you were afraid of letting me down or not meeting my expectations or whatever it was dragging you down, but you never let that stop you. But I am so, so proud of you for never giving up, and I admire you for your strengths.

If I was half as strong as you are, I wouldn’t be lying on my death bed writing this letter to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to be able to watch you continue to grow, I’m sorry I succumbed to this disease and left you.

If there is one thing that I want you to remember, it’s that you truly are unstoppable; there isn’t a thing in this world that you cannot accomplish—I said that with my chest, and I took that to my grave.

If there is ever a day that you are doubting yourself, I want you to read this over and over until you find who you are again: the strongest, most beautiful, and courageous woman to walk this earth. The woman I am so proud to call my daughter.

I love you so much.

Until we meet again.

-Dad”

I was a blubbering mess by the time Noah finished reading the letter to me. He puts it back on the nightstand before wrapping his arms around me, rocking me back and forth ever-so-slightly while I cried it out.

In all reality, it wasn’t that bad of a letter, but it made me miss my dad that much more. It made me regret following in his footsteps, which ultimately lead me down a path to where I never got to see him before he passed. I was weak then. Oh, so very weak—and at times, I believe that I’m still weak, unlike what his letter had been telling me.

It took me a long time to recover, and I ruined it after three whole years of being sober. That is weak; I wasn’t the strong-willed person my dad thought I was. And even if I’m strong enough to be sober now due to the pregnancy, there’s always that thought in the back of my head that worries I’ll relapse after having him. But I can’t let that happen.

I won’t let that happen.

|Chapter 24|

[hestusjamsession]

I’m currently farming light dragon parts (sorry Zelda) and decided to do a follow up to my last post while I wait.

This list is all Linked Universe baby. Once again, if you know the blogs of some of these authors I’d appreciate it if you could tag them.

1. Linked Universe Age Swap AU by LazuliQuetzal

Let’s kick this off with a bang. This is a series of one shots centered around the Chain being alternate ages. We got Old Man Hyrule. We got Angsty Teen Time. We got Wolfkin Wild. It’s great. Check it out.

2. Dawn of the Fourth by LazuliQuetzal

By the same author, Dawn of the Fourth is one of those fics that I don’t think I’ll be able to do justice, so here’s a snippet:

Wild reached out and brushed a finger across the body’s cheek. Then he licked his finger. “Eleven,” he decided, smacking his lips.

“Hey, what the fuck.”

“Dirt tastes different depending on age—”

“No, don’t explain it! Why are you like this, I hate you so much—“

3. The Man and the Pup by Bubbly_Kandy

Once upon a time, in the magical land of Hyrule, there were eight boys and a man all trying to exist in a world that doesn’t want them.

This one has some serious fairy tale vibes which I love. It’s also kind of dark at times. It’s not finished but maybe if I point enough people towards it the author will pick it up again. Who knows? One can dream.

4. Deserving by @a-little-bit-of-ravioli

When Colin overhears part of a conversation between his father and his adopted big brother, he decides it’s up to him and his friends to protect Link from those wishing to do him harm.

5. Malevolence by @thescrapwitch

Wolfie eats something he shouldn’t and things go downhill from there. Secrets are revealed, friendships are tested, and Ganon is a jerk.

This fic is a masterclass in tension. If you need some heavy angst with a happy ending, this is your fic.

The one shot Wolf Heart by the same author is also very good.

6. Our Nightly Confident by Wisetypewriter

Alternative titles are “Wolfie is the Best Boy” and “Men Will Literally Talk to a Wolf Before Going to Therapy.”

This was one of the first LU fics I read and it’s so sweet. If you’ve liked Lupis Vigilans (coming up) you’ll really like Our Nightly Confident.

7. The Fierce Dadity Series by @skyloftian-nutcase

A series focusing on everyone’s favorite Mask-bound God/Spirit just trying to take care of his favorite mortal.

There’s a lot of fics by Skye that I love and it’s hard to narrow it down. But Fierce Dadity is up there.

8. Brethren in a Cradle by @skyward-floored

After coming across a village raised to the ground, the Chain finds its sole survivor: a baby boy. They quickly learn that there is more to this child than meets the eye.

The “Baby Joins the Chain AU”. Also I always get Skyward_floored and Skyloftian-nutcase mixed up and I would like to make a formal apology.

9. Where Your Meant to Be by @adrift-in-thyme

Malon has lived her entire life in her tower, never seeing the outside world. When a former-hero-turned-thief climbs through her window, her life takes a whole new turn.

The Tangled AU I didn’t know I wanted until I read it.

10. Lupus Vigilans by @pluviatrix

A character study of each of the Chain told from the point of view of Twilight, Hillbilly in Resident.

Wholesome and hilarious and heartbreaking in equal measure, I can’t recommend this fic enough. Also, I’m from the Ozarks and it’s cool to see that accent represented in the wild.

Their other fic, And Still The Cradle Blossoms is also really good if you’re like me and need a good cry at three in the morning.

11. Down by @musashi

When the Chain gets hit by a horrible illness, it’s up to Sky to take care of eight stubborn heroes. Each chapter is focused on a different member, and Twilight’s chapter in particular hit me in the feels.

I love sickfics for some reason and this one is so good.

12. Colors by HylianHarmony

A Four centric fic where he reveals the Colors to the rest of the Chain. Also he has a mind palace which is pretty neat.

This fic isn’t finished but it’s too good not to recommend.

13. Alone Together by Blueskullcandy

Another Four centric fic but told from the point of view of different members of the chain (including Four). The Twilight chapter in particular is worth the read by itself.

This fic is also not finished but I still recommend it. It’s really good.

14. Brothers Becoming by @turtleduckscribbles

After a fight with Twilight, Legend is forced to face his fears and insecurities and confront the one person he wants to avoid at all cost.

Prickly Legend learns to let others in.

15. Not Like You by HylianHarmony

Wind deals with serious imposter syndrome, but the others don’t realize it until it’s almost too late.

This is one of my comfort fics y’all. When I’m down I’ll read it and it always manages to cheer me up. I can’t recommend this one enough.

[yjano]

Who I am now?

Pairings: Jake x Mc.

Warnings: Mature themes, angst, 18+, inappropriate language.

Words: 842.

Author's Note: This story contains mature themes and different view of our hacker boy. No spoilers or anything. Just starting a short story and hope to get y'all little precious opinions.

Prologue.

I adjusted my dress strips, using the help of the mirror infront of me.

"You look good, Mc." Dan commented as he wandered into the room, suited in black as usually. I thanked him with my eyes, still focusing on my reflection in the mirror.

I tried to smile in the mirror but failed. The empty feeling inside me was horrible to handle. Everyone was happy after Hannah got returned back home. Nobody knew what happened to Jake or even Richy. Jessy got over it after a while for her friends sake. But I know she's just as empty as I am.

"You look distracted, what's bothering you?" Dan grinned, laying on my bed unbothered about everything.

"No I'm fine." I swallowed and forced a smile to him. Smoothing my strand of hair behind my ear, I took a deep breath.

It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay, Mc.

Just smile at them...

After smiling so hard that my teeth and cheeks hurt. I decided to retire to my room for a quick break from too cheerful Jessy and others. As I walked across the hall. My eyes noticed a new person entering inside the house. A tall man figure in a fitting black clothes and a slight smirk prominently fixed on to his face as he looked around. No one really noticed him as they were drinking and dancing with Hannah. His eyes landed on me, and his eyebrows quirked up. I was way too tired to even recognize the man and walk inside my room. Closing the door behind me, my fake smile faded and I contemplated whether should I cry again in the bathroom for a few minutes and then go back to the party or lie to them that I feel ill and sleep throughout the rest of the night.

The door opened behind me before I could make up my mind. I looked over my shoulder to see the same man standing in the doorframe.

"You are?" I tried to sound polite enough but my face gave away my irritation.

"Someone." The guy brushed off my question and looked around the room casually, eyeing the window in particular.

"Sorry, this is my room. I don't know you, and I don't know how my friends allowed you to come here but get out." I spat out, looking away from his side.

Sound of something snapping made me look at him and notice the new intem in his hand. He was holding a gun, pointing it directly at me.

"What do you want?" I swallowed looking at him in fear. "Don't startle the intruder, any sudden momevents could get you killed." I remembered Dan's words. It was probably the first and last time I bothered to listen to him.

"Drop to the floor and keep your hands above your head - don't scream and don't move." The guy ordered coldly with blank stare.

I quickly did what I was told. The fear reverberated throughout my entire body. I pursed my lips into a straight line, my breath hitched in my throat as the guy stepped forward. I was staring at the floor as the man kneeled down in front of me.

"Okay, so we have to fucking talk, I'm not going to hurt you. I'll keep my gun on the floor so don't freak out on me-"

I screamed immediately when I saw the gun set on the floor infront of me knees.

"Oh my fucking-" He cursed under breath, pressing his hand agaisnt my mouth.

"My ears are ringing." He grunted to himself, picking up his gun and sending me a glare.

"I'm gonna stand up and find something to tie you up with, my gun's in my hand so don't scream or move - you got that?" He consolidated, getting up off his haunces and walking round my room. He held my room curtairs to see if they are strong enough to hold.

My eyes flickered around the room desperately, trying to find anything to fight him with. I needed Jake here to tell me everything is going to be okay and that he is here. That guy unlooped the rope-like item.

He's gonna kill me...by choking me!

Panic rised inside my system and I began to look around the room, noticing the vase which I found pretty ugly but Jessy didn't let me remove it. Whilst the man had his back turned to me, I stood up with wobbly legs and reached for the vase. I took a deep breath and swing the vase forward with my teeth digging into my lower lip.

The vase indeed hit something...

But as soon I felt it being pressed against something. I opened my eyes slowly, nearly wincing at the sight of him.

He had caught the full force of vase in his hand, gripping the vase so hardly that I feared it'd shatter into thousand pieces. He was glaring at me deadly.

Shit...

"Alright, Mc. I was gonna go easy on you, but we'll have to do this the hard way."

Soon I felt pain in the head and dark occupied me fully.

[agentalysswolf]

OKAY---"KIN" LIST (im defining kin as a fictional character i feel i embody in some major way and makes me feel seen by others. Also through which I can see myself as I have a difficult time with that as I have bpd among other things.

DEEP BREATH ...Okay. This might seem "cringe" or stupid but idc. It's a big deal for me to come out and release this list even to strangers.

IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:

Fox Mulder✨--The X Files

(Purest and parts of me I most strive to lean into. Also transboy. my crazy puppy dreamer energy to someone's skeptic down to earth anchor. ready to kill god and anyone who'd dare to hurt the ones i love and cant live without)

Tony Stark✨--You know who I am

(Aware of sins and ready to constantly improve and be better. Heroes are self made!! (built) He loathes himself AND loves himself. The cluster b is strong with this one. as well as cptsd and ocd. Specifically Sun armor. Blazing sunshine energy BOTTOMING AND SUB SPACE IS A NEED TO HEAL. DADDY ISSUES)

Will Graham✨ --Hannibal

(Hyper sensitive "empath" who struggles with mental illness and harmful urges. morally grey. morally good. morally bad. confused/hurt/gentle.)

Quentin Compson (male) --The Sound and The Fury✨

(first book character through whom i felt SEEN. he has MASSIVE ocd issues and the writing style for his chapters resonates with my soul. i was watching tokyo ghoul at the same time and "White Silence" the song makes me think of Quentin in a coffin covered in white flowers with white hair and I break down)

Naruto Uzumaki✨--Naruto/Naruto Shippuden

(hero's hero. he grew up with me and we are most alike in sunshine blazing personalities. Feel VERY DEEPLY and have deep trauma. anyone can change for the better--BELIEVE IT! Childish and loud. hyper with FEELINGS that sometimes get out of control and make us go ninetails mode. (intermittent explosive disorder) Which always end up hurting those around us even though we get that way in emotional responses to freak situations. "THERE ARE NO SHORTCUTS TO BECOMING HOKAGE"

Lestat de Lioncourt✨--The Vampire Lestat (book)/ AMC's show Interview With The Vampire

(The villain in me. The wretched creature. The lover. Absolute chaos. cluster B diva. The trauma. Needing to feel SEEN and fucking everything up over and over. Obsession. Self harm. Suicidal and homicidal ideation.)

Nora (with Weiss' trauma) (team JNPR) --RWBY

(Bright eyed. Motormouth. Random and hyper AF but like actually. Living your entire life with/for someone and needing to figure out who you are without them. Hitting things with a massive hammer. A hero. Lightning blaze heart. Will do anything for those she loves. just add in the song "The Path To Isolation" )

Spinell--Steven Universe Movie

(oh god. the villain origin story. worst fears being imagined. the annoying love bombing and wanting NEEDING others approval and constant attention. bpd. the scythe. the HEALING.)

Asuka --Evangelion/Rebuild

((MOMMY ISSUES TO THE EXTREME) bpd again. need to be seen by others in order to exist. without praise or what you crave from others you are nothing. you only exist through the eyes of others. self harm/ suicide attempt (bathtub scene) mind rape scene. trauma driving your entire life and still...still wanting happiness for people and yourself. not knowing how to express love. coming off as annoying and loud and weird and narcissistic and then laying there alone in bed crying about how much you hate yourself. and yet STILL being able to grow at the end and save the world)

[isleofdarkness]

Like C already said, don't worry about it, you're a human being and we all forget stuff from time to time. Now here's, as always, my review of your fantastic work:

These Mim kids never fail to make me blue; the way Mara can't even verbalize she's wounded let alone her needing help and how “Gods, she really was Riah's sister”, how “Mara didn't speak but Maverick didn't need her to” and Mav's “expression worried but eyes soft in a way he'd never seen them”, Mara's small smile and Maverick's “Alright, my Salamander, more hurt or more scared?”. They're so soft and caring but can't show it because this is the Isle and it would get them used against each other and also their need to not depend on anyone but themselves because when they did they got hurt. They make me so ill, I want to bite their brains (affectionate)

Molly is crying and so am I, poor thing deserves the world :(

Now, I don't know who Mirabel or Jane might be but I do remember that Belle's gonna change her name to Tiana in the future, so maybe she's Tiana? Probably not, since Tiana is a cryptonym and then it wouldn't really work, but who knows.

Of course trying to read Maverick's mind would make your brain explode, of fucking course (light-hearted and joking)

“He's trying to keep all of you at arm's length because he's afraid he's unintentionally hurting you. But he isn't capable of it. I swear he isn't.” I don't even know what to say about this one, just- I love him and his capable-of-mass-destruction magick that he won't use. That's my kid, your honor, he wouldn't harm a fly but gods if he can (funny phrase because everyone can hurt a fly but you know what I mean).

I love how oblivious they are, “I'm blind and even I can see it!” Molly's so funny and so so right.

Magickal Evie is all I've been asking for. I love the way you write her.

These are the type of moments where I wish I knew how to draw because Maverick's outfit sounds so fucking cool.

Poor Maverick, she deserves to have a mental breakdown without anyone commenting on it, Ben.

Holy shit, dude. That was an amazing monologue and I mean it. I'm shaking, what the hell. I don't know how Ben didn't start crying right fucking there, because if Maverick fucking Mim said that to me ain't way I'm recovering from that.

You're an amazing writer.

Thank you so, so much

The wounds from Mara's surgery two days ago reopened. They'd been trying to let her heal naturally because healing with magic can cause complications, but clearly they aren't going to have the time. The three of them (technically the four, because Mordred is also part of the group) are so very close, it's so sweet.

Most Isle kids don't show fear, it's been trained out of them because it can only make things worse. The fact that Molly cried in fear after having a gun pointed at cos head, an entirely reasonable reaction from a seven-year-old, says a lot.

Belle isn't Tiana, that would be too easy to figure out. Tiana is a bit younger, around Harry's age, and does work in a restaurant when not busy with gang business. Mirabel is notable as someone without magic surrounded by people who do. And Jane is an unexpected ally from a world they thought they would never see, a world they never really imagined, the world beyond the barrier.

There is so much stress in her brain that trying to read her mind will kill you in an instant/j

Riah's power, in his mind, is a nuke. It stays on the shelf. Though, in that particular instance, Maverick was talking about his charmspeak abilities that the other Isle kids don't know about. Of course, they're all about to find out.

Molly hasn't even interacted with Riah and yet co knows.

Evie deserves magic and I'm glad you like my take on her.

I'm glad you like her Destiny outfit, too.

Ben, baby, please give Maverick literally one (1) break and don't get into an argument with her until she's calmed down.

Maverick really woke up today and chose violence against Ben and I am absolutely thrilled by your response.

Thank you so, so much

[lilyliveredlittlerichboy]

5

Another third person, flashback chapter. Skull cleaved in two. Ortus is with her, as her cavalier, now clearly in some kind of alternate reality, of sorts.

Oh, I have half a mind to get Gideon out again and cross-reference the corresponding scenes. Since this is probably not the last flashback we will get.

If things get too much for my brain to process, I'm also SUPER not ruling out pausing my read of Harrow and rereading Gideon before I continue. That might be very interesting indeed. I'm still early enough in Harrow that I could just start again from the beginning after re-reading Gideon without too much turbulence.

But for now, let's just see if we can cross-reference.

In Harrow:

“Please,” a voice was saying. “Please, my Lady Harrowhark. Be—be peaceful. What can I do for you? What must be done?” [...] “Am I making the sign?” she managed. “Am I giving you the signal? No? Then I will remind you that anything else is none of your business, and hope I do not have to remind you twice.” [...] “Where are we?” Harrow added, in another sudden welter of nervousness. “I thought—perhaps—” “We must be four hundred kilometres above the surface now,” he said, mistaking her question. “They are securing our clearance to land. We shall leave orbit soon, I trust.”

The same scene in Gideon:

It was incredible. It was exquisite. She wanted to throw up. It seemed stolid insanity that Harrowhark’s only reaction was to slide up the plexiform barrier and hold down the communication button to ask: “How long must we wait?” The navigator’s voice crackled back: “We are securing your clearance to land, Your Grace.” Harrow didn’t thank him. “How long?” “They are scanning your craft now, Your Grace, and we’ll move the moment they have confirmed you’re free to leave orbit.”

In HtN, Harrow is discombobulated, sweating, nervous, her entire state prompting Ortus to check on her, which she dismisses, but with difficulty. In Gideon, she seems barely moved. This is a COMPLETELY different girl. This is a completely different reality, timeline, or whatever.

Gideon would have noticed if Harrow seemed at all like this in GtN.

Harrow was crying when she boarded the shuttle with Gideon. She's positively ill when on the shuttle with Ortus. This just gets curiouser and curiouser.

... She has the voile still, to tie around her head, as she did with Gideon.

Yeah, still, this is SO different. I don't need to check GtN to know it.

She was surprised again. “Nigenad, what would be the tragedy in living for a myriad? Ten thousand years to learn everything there is to know—to read everything that has ever been written … to study without fear of premature end or reckoning. What is the tragedy of time?” “Time can render one impotent beyond meaning,” said Ortus unexpectedly. He made his eyes downcast again, and said: “I would not expect you to—be crushed by the weight of that particular comprehension, Reverend Daughter.”

I mean, he's right. She IS a baby of seventeen. Oh Harrow.

It was coloured all over with thin blue ink, scribbled so hard that the termination of each letter pushed holes into the surface, and it read: THE EGGS YOU GAVE ME ALL DIED AND YOU LIED TO ME [...] “It’s blank, my lady.” “Fuck,” said Harrow.

This just gets weirder and weirder.

[arcplaysgames]

Yosuke, audibly tearing up: HAHA i bet chie is crying right now lmao ANYWAY I GOTTA GO IRON THE DOG, BYE

I want Chie and Yosuke to accidentally go see a sad movie together and bawl their eyes out and then make a pact to never speak of the incident again. Or, wait, Yosuke would want a pact, Chie would be like "dude have you MET me i cry at the drop of a hat! everyone has seen me cry! i'm not a baby about it like you!" and then they fight about it but Chie agrees not to tell everyone Yosuke cried.

YUKIKO BEST GIRL. man i remember back at the start of this game when i didn't dig her vibe and now i just am happy every time she shows up bc its sure to be good

anyway, everyone celebrates new years together, and I have a full body flashback to another Reverie Vantas, standing at Naganaki Shrine in Iwatodai and the beautiful music that came with the turn of the year as the end of the world was nigh.

I sure fucking hope the end of the world is not fucking nigh AGAIN.

also everyone look at naoto's winter outfit. my god the transmasc swag is off the fucking charts. look at them. that's a BOLO TIE. their pants are plaid print. impeccable. I'm applauding.

Nanako and Reverie make a Teddieman. It's adorable.

Then the game is like "hey go say happy new year to all your slinks" and i thought I'd pop in on Margaret and Marie

(also, Persona, you are a COWARD, let me have a link with Igor. COWARDS)

Marie is gone?????? The fuck.

This sounds like it's gonna kick off the bonus dungeon so good for me hitting the flag? but also what, she's GONE?

My favorite duo arrives because Yosuke has plans for a skiing trip, but also I just am thrilled to be a bystander in the Yosuke And His Annoying Younger Brother He Found In A TV Dimension show. Yosuke literally feels years older when Teddie is around because he's constantly sparking off him in that particular sibling way. It's genuinely heartwarming.

Yosuke: teddie is such a pain in the ass

Teddie: I'll stay with sensei for a few weeks

Yosuke: WHAT WAIT NO 8C

It'll be okay, Yosuke, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Maybe your parents will draw up official adoption papers. Teddrick "Teddie" Hanamura. That sounds awful but we're gonna roll with it!

also thank god teddie is here bc Dojima and Nanako are out of town for a bit so Teddie is the one there when Reverie fucking collapses. WHICH HAPPENED IN P3P TOO ODDLY ENOUGH. Persona be like "oh, ur near the end of the game? inexplicable illness time!"

Weird.

Reverie dreams of Marie standing in front of the bonus dungeon, I assume. I ACTUALLY THINK YOU'RE PRETTY NEAT MARIE SO I WILL SEE YOU LATER! WAAAAAAAIT FOR ME, I'M COMIN' etc etc.

good ol teddie

Margaret calls to inform us that she's on google maps looking for the bonus dungeon and will get back to us as soon as she has directions. the Velvet Room has terrible data reception.

WAIT NO THIS IS PRE-GOOGLE MAPS. she's gotta use MapQuest to plot a route and then find a printer to make a copy of it. That shit takes time.

JUNPEI THIS IS AN EMERGENCY, HOW DOES MY HAIR LOOK wait wrong lightning bruiser i have a terrible crush on. dammit.

[local-vampire-queen]

Oooh fun, more questions! 1. Were you named after anybody?

I named myself after one of most beloved D&D characters (Anastasia). When I was figuring myself out it helped a lot to play her and I just loved the name.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I am a mess, so I cry regularly, but most recently it has been about a potential diagnosis with an incurable life-altering illness I might get any day now. That ought to do it :(

3. Do you have kids?

Nope, definitely not. Maybe someday.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I used to do it way more, but yeah, I still do. It's just a part of life in a sometimes mean world I guess.

5. What sports do you play/have played?

I've played basketball, I've done rowing, I've done swimming. I don't really enjoy any of them, so these days I just work out by myself ... if at all.

6. What's the first thing you notice about someone?

Their overall vibe and the energy they have, I think. I know that's vague, but I don't notice any particular detail, but definitely the kind of overall personality their demeanor gives off to me. If I have to nail it down to one thing, I think that'd be their clothing style.

7. Eye color?

Dark, dark brown through and through.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Scary movies any day, I fucking love horror. Please give me the most horrible hopeless situations, cosmic beings and weird new worlds. The more disastrous the ending, the better.

9. Any special talents?

Hmm. I can play saxophone and clarinet? I can't really think of much truly special

10. Where were you born?

In Berlin and I still live here. I love the identity of the city and being here for generations brings a bond that is not easily severed.

11. What are your hobbies?

I love writing (both RP and for TTRPGs). I play a lot of magic. I love indulging in film analysis and deep dives into the most obscure topics. I do gaming sometimes.

12. Do you have any pets?

Nope, none at the moment, but soon a whole lot if my girlfriend can help it lmao

13. How tall are you?

I am 1,95 m, which translates to 6'4'' I think? Tall goth gal

14. Favorite subject in school?

English for sure. Nothing else comes close. Loved my teachers and languages always came very easily for me.

15. Dream job? Being a writer. The kind that is recognized by name, but not by face. Taking it slow and letting inspiration come to you as you sit in a cottage by the lake, with dark stormy nights and the auburn leaves of old trees surrounding you everywhere.

Tagging: @sapphictechwitch @myagic @starbloodprincess @rosaline-tinted-glasses @tiamat-has-a-crush-on-zariel

15 Questions Game

Tagged by @jenolicho <3

1. Were you named after anybody?

I was named after both my grandfathers, but that's my deadname lol

2. When was the last time you cried?

I cried a few weeks ago because of a shitty day at work :(

3. Do you have kids?

I sure hope not

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I'm very sarcastic, and my voice is super monotone so I always sound like I'm being sarcastic even when I'm being genuine

5. What sports do you play/have played?

I used to do baseball as a kid, I did soccer for a couple years (lots of fun), and I dabbled in archery

6. What's the first thing you notice about someone?

I remember how they act and any really defining physical characteristics. Beyond that, I cannot hold onto faces or names until like round 2 or 3

7. Eye color?

I have really dark green eyes with a ring of brown around the pupil, so it looks like I have brown eyes unless we're in making-out-distance

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

I love scary movies and horror, and overall I connect and vibe with bittersweet endings over happy ones

9. Any special talents?

I'm a writer, I can burp on command, I'm a fairly good voice actor (despite being monotonous, I can do a lot of accents n characters), and I can do the footloose dance

10. Where were you born?

I was born in Texas and thankfully don't live there anymore

11. What are your hobbies?

I love to read and write, brainstorm ideas for things to write, or play DnD/Call of Cthulhu/other TTRPGS

12. Do you have any pets?

I have a cat! A calico named Yog-Sothoth

13. How tall are you?

Between 5'9" and 5'10", or 175-176 cm

14. Favorite subject in school?

I always loved science, and math was something I grokked easily

15. Dream job?

I'd love to be an author, but the kind of author that travels the world

Tagging: @spideercabossed @sleepystellarsister @wolf-kisssed @local-vampire-queen @hummerous @nintendowiimote @polymoth