#he's been down here and he's just watching the whole thing unravel until you finally blurt out what you've been trying to say in English 7/?

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

HIS GIRL - PART 3

Summary: You were always Topper’s girl—until Rafe decided you were no longer his.

Paring: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Rafe/Reader, Topper/Reader, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Coercive Behaviour, Fingering, Oral (w receiving) Drinking, Graphic Scenes / Smut.  

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

There’s something about holding a secret over someone’s head. Something utterly intoxicating. The kind of power that simmers quietly, waiting for just the right moment to unravel everything.

It’s better than any drug. Better than the rush of a line of coke or the burn of whiskey sliding down Rafe's throat. That buzz, that hit, it fades. But this? The high of knowing something no one else does, of holding it over them like a loaded gun? That shit lasts.

Rafe leans back in his lounger, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the blazing sun. He barely registers Barry’s voice droning on beside him, the steady hum of poolside chatter and laughter fading into the background. None of it matters to him. His focus is on you.

He’s been waiting for this moment, for the first sight of you since last night under the pier. And now, here you are, standing across the pool, arms folded, eyes darting around like you're either searching for someone or trying to avoid them. He knows exactly which one it is.

Rafe feels a surge of satisfaction at the thought. He knows it's him you’re trying to avoid, which only makes the secret between you that much sweeter. He follows your every movement, waiting for you to notice him, knowing what will happen when your eyes finally meet his.

You’re standing next to Topper, his arm slung casually over your shoulder as he laughs with friends. After what happened last night, Rafe doesn’t feel particularly territorial anymore—why should he when he’s tasted you in ways Topper never has, touched you in ways Topper never will, and made you cum in a way Topper can only dream of.

Instead of feeling jealous, Rafe finds it even more intriguing to see how you hold yourself, stiff and rigid, clearly uncomfortable with Topper’s touch.

But he does not have time to dwell on this and what it means because your gaze sweeps the pool, and finally it lands on him. For a split second, your expression freezes—shock, maybe fear? It’s all there in that brief moment before you quickly look away, pretending you didn’t see him. You shift closer to Topper, angling your body away, using him as a human shield.

Rafe almost laughs at the sight, at how oblivious Topper is to the whole thing.

Last night, when Rafe walked you back from the pier, Topper had been waiting by the house, looking confused and a little worried.

“She wasn’t feeling well,” Rafe had said smoothly, “We just went out for some air.”

Of course, Topper had bought it—hook, line, and sinker. Why wouldn’t he? You were his sweet, perfect girl, always doing the right thing. Rafe had watched as Topper fussed over you, pulling you into a hug, his hands moving gently across your back while Rafe stood there, basking in the tension. You hadn’t looked at Rafe then, barely even glanced at Topper, your mind clearly spinning.

And now, here you are again, trying so hard to pretend nothing’s wrong. But Rafe sees through it all—the way you avoid his gaze, the way your body tenses whenever he shifts. You can feel his eyes on you. He knows it.

He knows you're on edge, waiting for him to say or do something to ruin everything. To tell the "love" of your life what really happened at the pier. And that type of power? Rafe loves it—he’d snort it like a line if he could. The high of being in your head, twisting your thoughts, making you second-guess everything, making you think about him—always him, never Topper. He’s there, in your mind, taking up space.

When your gaze flicks over again, Rafe pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head, making sure you see his entire face as he grins at you. He catches the flicker of panic in your eyes just before you quickly turn away. You’re scared. Scared of what he'll do next. Good. You should be.

Rafe’s about to lean back, content to just watch you squirm, when Barry’s voice breaks through the haze. It’s lazy, a little amused, and it cuts right through Rafe’s focus.

“You're one sneaky asshole, you know that?" Barry drawls, his voice low but not low enough to miss. Rafe doesn’t bother looking at him. He already knows where this is going. Barry gestures lazily with his cigarette in your direction. "Ain't that your best friend's girl?"

Rafe doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even blink. He lifts his drink, taking a slow, deliberate sip before responding, voice calm, casual. “Yeah,” he says, barely giving the words any weight. “And?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Barry’s expression shift, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. Barry’s always been one to poke at things, to see just how far he can push.

“You fuckin' her?” Barry asks, not even pretending to soften the question. It’s just Barry being Barry, blunt and unfiltered.

Rafe keeps his voice steady, not a hint of emotion in it. “Not yet—but I will.”

There’s a beat of silence before Barry lets out a low whistle. “Damn, that’s cold,” he says, leaning back, clearly entertained. “Remind me never to bring my women around you.”

Rafe’s gaze never leaves you. You’re laughing at something Topper’s said, but he knows it’s forced. The stiffness in your smile gives you away. You’re pretending, and Rafe can see right through it. Through you.

"Since when are you into women?" Rafe deadpans, finally turning his head just enough to glance at Barry.

Barry snorts, shaking his head as he exhales smoke. “Touché,” he mutters, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He watches you for a moment longer before leaning in slightly, lowering his voice, like he’s sharing some inside joke. “You're fucked up for even thinking about trying to fuck her, you know that, right?”

Rafe doesn’t answer immediately. He just lets that dark smile curl across his lips again, savoring it. The power. The control.

"Oh, if you only knew," he says quietly, the words almost lost beneath the hum of the poolside chatter, but Barry hears them.

There’s a moment of silence between them, just the soft crackle of Barry’s cigarette as he takes another drag. Barry’s not a saint, never claimed to be. But even he can tell when someone’s going too far.

Barry stubs out his cigarette, shaking his head with a soft chuckle as he stands. Before he walks off, he throws a casual warning over his shoulder. “Just don’t get yourself shot, Country Club,” he says, the words half-joking, half-serious. “'Cause I know you—you ain't gonna stop 'til someone sheds blood”

Rafe leans back, sunglasses sliding down over his eyes, that familiar grin creeping back onto his face. He’s not worried. Not about Topper. Not about Barry. Not about anyone.

Because in the end, Rafe always gets what he wants.

And right now, what he wants is watching him from across the pool, pretending she isn’t.

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

PART 2 / PART 4 / STORY MASTERLIST

Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please like / reblog / comment as I would love to know what you think. Part 4 the final Part drops on Sunday. Stay tuned. Meantime lots of love ❤️

[sylvies-chen]

my favourite thing about season 2 hands down was watching them bring darcy’s storyline to life and it really highlights what heartstopper as a comic-book-turned-television-show does so so well, which is encompass different forms of queer trauma/struggle

this season focused a lot on nick’s journey with coming out, the steps forwards and backwards he takes. it also shows him dealing with actual homophobic sentiments directed at him in his own home for the first time (can I get a good ol’ FUCK david nelson up in here? thank you!) which he has to learn to handle if he wants to come out sadly. and gaining that strength to step forward into the public eye and even just the point of having to actively own and protect your identity is definitely a valid struggle and anxiety-inducing thing, as we all see.

charlie’s trauma is also explored, though it takes to the end of season/vol 2 to get us there, in that spot where he opens up about it. the eating problems is definitely the red flag that consistently and subtly pops up throughout the season, but we don’t get that full unravelling of the impact it’s had on him until the last episode. he got outed and bullied at school at an age where social acceptance and community is so integral to your self-esteem. and he hasn’t developed healthy coping mechanisms to deal with the lasting impacts of it.

but darcy’s trauma and struggle weighed on my heart so much this season too, because not only is kizzy just a phenomenal actor but also because it provided a whole other angle of trauma that charlie and nick haven’t quite been through: the trauma of homophobia from a parent. like, it is so crushing to learn that the one person who is supposed to love you unconditionally just… doesn’t. nick has his mum, and charlie has tori as a protector and supporter, and his parents too in their very misguided way. they both have at least one family figure in the household that embraces them and, at the very least, will defend them. but darcy doesn’t, and her friends are her only support system. which doesn’t make her struggles any worse or better than nick’s or charlie’s, but it just brings a different angle into how she interacts with the group and I loved getting to watch her finally be able to open up.

I could also go into ben, how he represents a fourth sort of struggle which is when queer repression and internalized homophobia take a toll on your moral character, but instead I just want to wrap up by saying that as much as heartstopper represents the varying ways in which queer struggles impact your life, it does so thricefold in representing the different ways in which queerness and queer community heal you, making life more vibrant and fun and peaceful.

so… yeah. I’m not emotional you are.

[theladyfulcrum]

Come here children. Come here. Sit down. Take my hands. Listen.

Here’s what we are not going to do. We are not going to let them unravel us and leave us in a heap of bawling bodies. They want us to sob until our eyes fall out and we rupture our abdominal organs because they’re heartless and sadistic and part of STAR WARS—shhh, steady—but we are going to remain CALM. Call it denial, call it call it bargaining, call it what you will, but he’s not gone.

Deep breaths, all together now. Crying is cathartic and necessary for coping with the emotional abuse we endure at the hands of Filoni et al., but don’t cry from lost hope. I’m serious. Was it among the worst things we could have possibly been forced to watch? Has a good majority of the fandom been mulling where the hell we are supposed to find the will to go on after that? Of course. But they’ll be back. And Tech will be, too.

Hush, child. Listen to me.

There was a reason he fell into cloud-cover. He could have been falling into anything. Water can be lethal from that height, yes, but let’s all just remember what Hunter pulled in War-Mantle with falling OUT OF A SHIP and down a LITERAL MOUNTAIN and surviving that with JUST HIS KNIFE. HIS KNIFE, KIDS. Tech accepted what he was doing, and he was okay with dying if that was what this meant, but he’s Tech. Once he fell from view he did whatever he could to increase his odds of getting out of it alive. Trust.

Speaking of falling from view— we know the Clone Wars rules. No body, no confirmed death. Forget that— we know the STAR WARS rules. Even if someone gets SLICED IN HALF before your VERY EYES and FALLS AN INDETERMINABLE-BUT-DEFINITELY-NOT-SURVIVABLE DISTANCE, they STILL aren’t dead. Further still, if you had put the two scenes in front of me with no context, I would have said Echo’s death in an EXPLOSION of FIRE seemed more final and certain that Tech falling away from us. And no, I don’t care about the argument that it’s a kId’S ShOW so they wouldn’t show us the body. Go watch Colt’s death and get back to me. Or you know, pretty much any Clone Wars episode.

BUT THE GOGGLES, you wail. I know, dear heart, I know. I see the cracks in them every time I close my eyes. But Hemlock getting his hands on those isn’t confirmation of anything other than what we already know— no matter where he wound up, Tech is having a Very Bad Time™️. Whether he lost them on the extremely unpleasant way down or whether he’s being experimented on in critical condition is hardly a nicer thing to know, but we’ll take just about anything right now if it means we’ll see our boy again, won’t we?

Shhh, I’m not through. We also have that scene with Phee. If it had been a true goodbye, if Tech had shown an ounce of the development he had with Omega about differences in emotional processing and communication, you’d have seen my soul depart through the atmosphere. But no. That scene’s entire purpose was to be unresolved. Was it just to make us incurably sad in retrospect? Maybe. But my gut says no— there’s more he needs to say to her.

On that note, the same goes for Tech and Crosshair. I refuse to believe we’ll never see them together again. I don’t have anything stronger than my refusal, but my feelings on this are rock solid. There’s also the important issue of THE Bad Batch theme— you know how they’ve established a precedent of not using it unless the whole Batch is together? Collectively, we’re going to refuse to believe they’re going to break that now. And there’s too much love for that theme to never hear it again.

Finally, beloveds, we come to our old favorite: story analysis. You know I’m insufferable about this, but listen. If we look at screenwriting, if we look at story structure, if we look at BEATS, this is the old “DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL” for the Batch (and us obviously). It’s the ALL IS LOST. The EVERYTHING IS AWFUL AND THE HEROES ARE AT THEIR LOWEST LOW. It’s the classic “oh my god this second installment is EMOTIONAL TORTURE HOW COULD THEY DO THIS TO ME” that we can point to in novels, shows, and film series again and again. It’s the ESB ending, it’s the Catching Fire ending, it’s the Rebels S2 AHSOKA IS D E A D AND ANAKIN KILLED HER ending. S3 will open as they enter Act III, where they use what they’ve learned to move upwards toward the finale of this particular story arc. Doesn’t that sound like something nice to cling to?

There now. If I’m wrong, I’ll give you all the choice of k!lling me first or tossing me alive out of a plane with no *hard swallow* parachute, jet pack, or functional grappling gun. But I truly believe you won’t have to.

In the year or two we have to wait, cry for his absence, cry for the Batch being more fractured and farther apart than they ever have been, cry for Hunter feeling like he’s failed everyone he loves, cry for all of it, but not because you’ve lost hope that all might not be lost.

Tech will be back.

[kimberbohwrites]

'Ma'am' Chapter Two

Rolan has been pining for an older Tav for some time now. They both think they other hates them and when they realize their error, smut ensues. >Dedicated to @lemonsrosesandlavender and you know why. >Dedicated to @crowwolf and anon for the original prompt that spiraled into 6k words of smut >Dedicated to anyone who identifies as female and has ever felt the struggles of seeing your own beauty and power in a world that wants us to be the opposite. Esp. those of us who might be getting older.

Rated: Explicit, MDNI, Smut Word Count: 2966 Chapter 2/2 Read Chapter One: Tumblr | Ao3 READ ON AO3 (also continued below the line)

Please note: In this I’m writing as Rolan in his 30s and Tav in her 40s with a 10 year age difference.

As the door of his bedroom clicked shut behind him, Rolan immediately found himself flush against the door. You had rushed to claim his mouth once more in an eager kiss. The entire way up from the shop floor he had barely been able to focus, his mind unraveled with lust and need. Soft touches from you had kept him grounded enough to manage his way to the bedroom.

He whimpers as you kiss him, it feels as if it’s been ages since the last one even though he knows only minutes have passed.

“Someone is a little touch-starved, aren’t they?”

Rolan blushes deeply as you whisper the obvious in the darkness.

“I— it’s…”

He sputters trying to answer you. A small part of his brain tells him that he should be embarrassed to already be falling apart so completely under the touch of another. The greater part of him can’t find the will to care at all. Finally, you are touching him, and he can touch you, your beauty and warmth no longer just out of reach.

“It’s okay, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about”

You say as if you can read the scattered thoughts running rampant through his mind.

“I have wanted to touch you for so long Rolan, I promise I’ll make you feel good, okay?”

He nods in response, biting back a whine.

“What do you say?”

He fumbles for a minute and then remembers and with it comes the warmth of arousal pulsing through him once more.

“Yes ma’am”

You reward him immediately with a harder kiss, your tongue sweeping into his mouth. Gods you’re perfect. He’s whimpering into the kiss again when your hands sweep up into his hair, taking it down from his normally neat hairstyle and letting it fall loose on his shoulders. As you comb your fingers through it softly, he kisses down your neck as if to worship every bit of skin he finds.

You moan at the feeling and the sound makes his knees buckle under him again. This time you do notice.

“You poor thing. You should lie down.”

You guide him from the door over to the bed and while standing next to it, give him a few more sweet kisses before pushing him down hard on to it. He lands on his back on the soft sheets. Before he can think, you are on him, straddling his chest and leaning down to kiss him deeply. Rolan can’t help but moan and whimper lightly at the sensation.

“Gods… wanted you… wanted this… so long” he manages to get out between kisses. The words come in deep gasps of air as he wills his body not to give out from sheer ecstasy.

“Me too,” You respond as you sit up and gaze down at him.

You give him a look that seems to be begging a question — is he still enjoying this? Still wanting this?

He nods and whines, bucking his hips up. You’re sitting too high on him for him to find the friction he is seeking, and he lets out a whimper of defeat.

“By all the gods Rolan, look who is being greedy now”

“Please ma’am, please more”

Your smile could light the whole city, he’s sure of it.

“Alright, since you asked so nicely. Are you going to be good for me?”

He nods excitedly.

You smile again.

Then your eyes roam the room looking for something, he’s not sure quite what until your eyes narrow upon spying your quarry.

“Those will do nicely,” you muse to yourself

“Stay right here, like a good boy,”

He squirms a little in anticipation but heeds your order as he watches you climb off him and the bed. You cross the room toward an open closet that is strewn with old things. Upon one the shelves sits a box of old lengths of silk that matched the curtains in the bedrooms. Rolan hadn’t disposed of it yet, the bedroom closet was one of the last things he planned to worry about in the reorganizing of Ramazith Tower. It’s a blessing in disguise as you select a few lengths and turn to him with that foxlike grin.

“Can I use these?”

You say it so sweetly that Rolan almost forgets for a moment that he’s lying painfully hard on his bed, waiting for you. His heart flips flops in his chest at the way your eyes look innocent against the mischievous shape of your mouth. You are strong, brave, bright, and caring — and he is absolutely taken with you.

“Yes, of course.”

Crossing the room back to him, you take command of the situation once more.

“Get up and take off all your clothes,” You order him with that same sweet smile on your face.

“Yes ma’am”

He almost leaps off the bed and into action. Clawing at his own clothing so quickly that it makes you laugh a little despite the situation. Before too long he is naked before you, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths of anticipation. His cock stands proudly at attention, dripping pre-cum in eagerness of what might come next.

“Good boy,” you say, and he doesn’t even bother to fight the way he beams in response. Not that you’d miss the way your words made his cock twitch.

“Can I tie you up? Would that be okay?”

Rolan nearly passes out at the thought. Never had he considered being tied up in such a manner and now at the mere suggestion of it he is almost coming completely untouched. The whimper of need he responds with is quite loud.

“Please, ma’am,”

“Please what? Good boy?”

He shifts and squirms again. The feelings running through him feel stronger than any wine or drink could ever compare to. Is it possible to be drunk on a person? He wonders to himself. Here he is ready to throw his pride away in this moment for you and he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Please… tie me up…Ma’am”

He grits out the words, still trying to save a little face by trying to hold on to that grouchy personality that protects him from the world.

“On the bed”

You order as you approach and help guide him where you want him with a caring touch. Every so often you drop your face down to a different part of his skin and leave hot kisses in your wake. His body feels like it’s on fire from the combination of stimulation.

“Fuck” He hisses out.

His wrist is in your gentle grasp as you begin to tie it carefully to the closest post. You repeat this action three more times with each limb, so patiently and delicately checking to make sure the knots were firm— but also being sure they wouldn’t cause pain. You looked up at his face questioningly between each, making sure he was still okay and felt safe in this moment.

Rolan was grateful for it. While he didn’t know yet how to articulate it, he was fragile in so many ways from mishandling over his life. From parents who dumped him away as a baby to a city that would exile him for no crime other than existing. Hells, even the damage that his predecessor did to him in the short months of his apprenticeship was more than what the average person might suffer in their lives. Some part of you must have known, always known, he mused to himself, that he was fragile.

And yet you waited patiently for him anyway. He thought.

Rolan hadn’t been in love before and he wasn’t even sure if you even could fall in love with someone as they tied you to a bedpost, but if it was, he was certain that this was the case. He loved you. Now wasn’t the time to tell you, but he would and soon. He’d take you for dinner and by candlelight he’d tell you that he loved you and never wanted to be without you.

But for right now he was just a man tied to his own bed. There was a certain freedom in it he found himself thinking, as strange as it may seem. As soon as you took control, he felt a weight lift from him, the panic about the Tower, the worry over his siblings, the fears of inadequacy that have always haunted them — it’s like you could mute them simply by taking charge. There was a blissful peace in it.

He felt your fingertips ghost up his leg and snapped out of his thoughts, you’d finished securing him and were tracing his infernal ridges as you worked your way back up to him. Finally, you came to sit down on the bed next to him. It was only then that he realized he was nude you were still fully clothed. You looked at him with an almost devilish quality in your eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

He whimpers as his mind reels, trying to parse out what it is he wants. He knows he need only ask.

“T-touch me, please ma’am, touch me”

“Of course, because you asked so sweetly”

You run your hands over his torso, and he immediately groans at the feeling. Your skin is softer than anything he’s ever felt. Brushing your fingers across his nipples gently earns you a hiss that causes him to shift slightly, already seeking relief. His cock is throbbing, impossibly hard from this and he’s certain that he is making a mess of the bedding from the steady stream of pre-cum leaking from it.

“You feel so good Rolan, you’re so warm, I love it”

As you finish your statement one of your hands grazes near his cock ever so slightly and he lets out a loud whine. He finally pulls against his restraints for the first time. The featherlight touches have him close to the precipice before you’ve barely begun, and he is nervous about how long he can last like this.

“You’re so sensitive too, so reactive, it’s perfect”

Your touches continue to his thighs, his abs, finally brushing against his cock once more. Tears well in his eyes and threaten to spill. He can’t form words under these conditions; your praise and your touch have undone him. Then he feels you get off the bed and turns to find you standing once more.

“Noooo” He whines.

“Shhhhh, patience needy one… and you forgot something.”

He gathers his thoughts for a moment.

“Sorry ma’am”

“That’s better, now be patient”

The words are an order, not harshly barked but with enough authority behind them to know that you mean business. He bites his bottom lip to calm himself, careful not to draw blood with his sharp teeth.

You smile down at him as your hands come down to the hem of your tunic to pull it over your head slowly. His chest is pounding in anticipation as you slowly remove each piece of clothing all just out of reach of him. It is both torture and reward, for as you reveal each new bit of skin. He is both thrilled and being driven nearer to madness by the thought of your bare skin against him. After what feels like an eternity you are nude before him and climbing back on to the bed.

Your hand brushes up his cock again. It lurches under your touch, and he groans and tries to position his hips to get more friction.

“This is big, Rolan.”

He can’t help but grin as you grasp him and begin to stroke him. He’s never known where he stood as far as being well-endowed went, but he’ll take your word for it.

“I think you need to make sure I can handle this, want to help?”

He nods eagerly in response, and you smile at him. On your hands and knees, you crawl up the bed to him.

“I think I’m going to sit on that pretty face of yours, is that okay?”

“Fuck,” he hisses out almost coming at the thought, “Yes, please, ma’am”

His words come out as individual pants as he writhes against his bonds once more.

 Leaning down, you give him another kiss, deep and full of affection. Your tongue brushes against him and you moan a little into his mouth. He smiles into the kiss remembering that you want this just as much as he does. Then you are pulling away to straddle his face and lower yourself gently. His tail comes up to wrap around your ankle as you do so, holding you tight.

“If you need me to move or to stop for any reason, just let go of me with your tail, okay?”

He nods to you, and you lower your dripping cunt down on to his face. He strains against the bonds to raise his head, eagerly licking at every fold. This isn’t something he has a lot of experience in, but he’s been told he’s a quick study and he’s nothing if not enthusiastic. Trying to catalogue every touch you like best, he flattens his tongue against you as he tries to cover more area.

The result is almost immediate as you begin to shake and shudder. He can feel your thighs start to quiver and knows he’s on the right track. Before long he is taking your clit in his mouth, sucking gently and alternating with his tongue. Your moans grow louder, and he can hear you saying his name. His cock drips in excitement, trying to rein himself in to not finish just from the taste of you.

After a few minutes you’re close and he can tell, all he needs to do is push you over the edge. Without the use of his hands, he is struggling to come up with exactly how when it hits him. With a deep breath he presses his nose to your clit as his tongue darts in and out of your hole. He grinds his face slightly against you, being sure to keep a firm pressure. The extra friction is just the thing and with almost a wail, your climax overtakes you. You drench his face with the sweet taste of you while you writhe and shiver as he continues to lick you through it.

“Good boy,” You moan sensuously as you clear the fog of your orgasm.

Lifting from him and repositioning yourself once more, you lean down to kiss his drenched face. Sharing the taste between you which makes you both moan into the kiss. He is pulling against his bonds now. He needs to have you, or he is certain he’ll die. You notice with a coy smile, having wound him up just as you had planned.

“I didn’t forget about you of course” you murmur as you shift down to straddle his desperate cock.

He nods eagerly, so close to the edge already that he is nearly delirious for the release of oblivion under you. Still, he steels himself as he feels your warm heat envelop him, wanting this to last just a little longer if possible. The sound that leaves you as you fully seat yourself on him makes it nearly impossible to hold on. Your head is thrown back, neck exposed, your mouth opens, and you let out the most seductive moan he’s sure he’s ever heard.

His tail comes up to wrap around your waist as you adjust to the size of him.

“Fuck, Rolan, you feel amazing,”

He can’t respond, he’s huffing and fighting to hold on to control — to not cum on the spot. Fighting to not grind his hips up into you to get more of that feeling. It must be truly obvious how close he is, or you must be a mind reader because your next words are just what he needs.

“It’s okay Rolan, you don’t have to hold on, I want you to enjoy this”

He groans again as you begin to bounce yourself on him, his tail seeking to aid your motion. He’s puffing and panting, gods you feel so good,

“Thank… you… ma’am” he pants out to the pace of you riding him.

“My good boy”

With those three words it’s over. He lets out a loud grunt, almost a yell as his eyes roll back. His body lurches against the bonds as his cock pulses within you, filling you with his hot spend. His mind is a blank, all thought having been driven from out at the moment of climax. There is only the feeling.

Without a doubt, this is the hardest he’s ever come before. His head rests back against the bed and his mouth drops open as he continues to jerk up into you slightly with each spurt as he comes down. The first sensation he notes outside of pleasure again is the sound of your calm voice.

“That’s it, that was so good, you’re so good Rolan.”

You’re heaping praise on him, and he allows the combination of everything to sweep him away once more. When he comes to again it’s only minutes later, but he’s been untied and you’re gently cleaning him with a warm towel. You climb into bed with him and check his wrists and ankles, massaging them to soothe any discomfort. After a few minutes he pulls you close to him, and you lean out of his reach to grab a blanket to cover you both. Then you settle back, facing him as he puts his arms around your back, happy to have you in his arms.

The last thing he feels before he slips off to the best sleep he’s had in years, is the feeling of you leaving a kiss on his forehead — just between his horns.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

[polyrafe]

Everything We Ever Wanted

Summary: Rafe, Topper and you finally have everything you ever wanted when your daughter is born. That is, until one of you develops postnatal depression. Warnings: discussion of drugs, mentions of past drug abuse So, this is for you, L ( @maybanksbabe ) Welcome back to tumblr! I remembered that a year ago, you really liked talking about babies, so I hope, this is still the case. i wrote this in about a day and it's not beta-ed... i hope you enjoy it anyway. xx

In hindsight, you often say, you could pinpoint the moment Rafe started to spiral. You’d seen it brewing during the last few weeks of your pregnancy, but you couldn’t put a name to it then. It was a shift, a subtle change in him, from being detached and almost in denial, to this heavy weight of fear settling into his bones. Topper hadn’t noticed it at first—he still didn’t fully understand—but you did. You always did.

Until the end of your third trimester, the pregnancy had been mostly fun for all of you. Full of light moments, late-night cravings, excitement, and sex. Lots of sex. 

The baby was wanted—so wanted by all three of you—but for Rafe, it had always been a distant concept, something not entirely real. Planning for the baby had been yours and Topper’s thing. The two of you could already picture the little one crawling through your apartment, her giggles echoing through the space. But for Rafe, the idea of fatherhood felt hypothetical, something he could avoid thinking about, something he didn’t have to touch yet.

But then it got real.

The day your daughter was born, it all crashed down. 

As soon as you went into labor, Rafe spiraled. He had panic attack after panic attack. You saw it but you couldn’t do anything about it. You could just lie there and watch him from across the room. You could do nothing but watch him even leave the room, over and over again.

Topper had been so overwhelmed by the chaos of the hospital, the excitement of it all, that he didn’t really see what was happening. But you did. You saw Rafe’s hands shake, his breathing quicken, his eyes widen with that deep, dark fear.

“Rafe,” you had whispered in between contractions, exhausted but focused. “It’s okay, babe, I promise. Just call your sponsor. Please. You need help, fast, and I’m a little busy here.”

But Rafe didn’t call Barry. He just sat there, frozen, not understanding how to step into his role as a father, terrified of the mess he could make. Topper—your golden retriever of a partner, always eager to help—had missed the cues, laughing nervously, believing this was all just a temporary wave of emotions. He didn’t understand how deep Rafe’s fear went. 

But you did.

#

The days following the birth were a blur. Rafe was in and out of the apartment, never in the same room as the baby. You’d catch Topper shooting him worried glances, but Rafe avoided everyone. Not even once did he touch the baby. 

“Please tell me he’s not using,” you whispered to Topper one night as you stood in the kitchen, barely keeping it together. Your body was still recovering, and your mind was exhausted from trying to juggle it all—your baby, Rafe’s unraveling, and keeping the fragile balance of your triad.

“I don’t know,” Topper replied, his face showing nothing but irritation and disbelief.

“Look after him, Topper,” you said, feeling the weight of your words. Rafe needed more than just your reassurance. He needed one of you to be there for him and right now, you couldn’t be that person. 

So, you really wanted Topper to step up for Rafe, but the cracks in their relationship had started to show. Rafe was distant, closed off, and Topper was too hurt to push.

The problem was, they fought all the time. 

One afternoon, five whole days after your daughter’s birth, Rafe stormed out of the apartment, when he just couldn’t take it anymore. 

You didn’t know what hurt more, your body aching from childbirth and your heart breaking for him. 

When he returned, he was quiet, his energy depleted. 

He found you resting in bed. Alone. 

“Can I lie with you for a bit?” He asked quietly. There was shame written all over his beautiful features. Shame… nothing but shame. 

You nodded, already sensing something in him was breaking.

He handed you a small plastic bag with two pills. “Don’t hate me, please,” he whispered, his voice tight.

An icy shudder ran down your spine as you stared at the pills. “Rafe…”

“I didn’t take any. I promise.”

“What are they?” 

“Some benzos, Ativan or Xanax, I don’t remember what I asked for.” Now that you thought about it, you didn’t really care what he’d asked for. Benzos are downers—highly addictive downers. Self-medicating was what had gotten him into drug abuse in the first place; you hadn’t been there, but you knew.

You closed your eyes for a moment, forcing yourself to breathe. This was bad, you knew. “Thank you for giving them to me, babe,” you managed to say, though inside, you were terrified. “I’m proud of you.”

Rafe didn’t talk, not even when you begged him to. 

"Talk to me, baby," you whispered against his hair, over and over again. “Please, Rafe.”

He stayed curled up beside you, desperately clinging to physical closeness, as if that could keep him tethered. He didn’t move. He didn’t sleep. He just lay there.

You glanced at the clock, then looked up at Rafe, urging him, “The NA group meets at 8 tonight. You should go.” 

He shook his head, his voice heavy with reluctance. “I really don’t want to.” 

“And that’s exactly why you need to go,” you insisted, trying to keep your voice steady. 

Rafe’s gaze fell to the bed sheets as he murmured, “I gave you the pills.” 

“Yeah… still… please, Rafe,” you pleaded, but he remained stubborn. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

He stayed beside you, trapped by his own fear, too scared to leave the house and too proud to admit it to you or Topper. Tears welled up in your eyes but he didn’t even notice.

#

Hours later, you slipped out of bed to check on Topper and the baby. She was still asleep, so you took the chance to confront Topper in the kitchen. “You’re doing an awesome job with her,” you said softly, “but you’re an idiot for holding everything against Rafe. We're three parents, the chance of one of us developing postnatal depression was pretty high and given his history, it makes sense that it is him.”

Topper’s face hardened. “We have everything we ever wanted. Why is he acting like this?”

“He’s scared shitless,” you snapped. 

“Of what?” Topper snapped back.

“Of himself!” You idiot, you added in your mind, “Jesus Christ, Topper! Since when are you so oblivious? You're usually so good at reading him.”

Topper looked guilty but he still didn’t know how to approach Rafe—he didn’t seem to want to approach Rafe at all. You felt the strain between them, and it scared you. Rafe needed both of you to pull him back from the edge, but Topper’s hurt and frustration had already built a wall between them.

“Rafe, you have to give us something,” you told him once you were back in bed with him. “This family needs you.”

“You don’t need me,” Rafe said, his voice cracking. “The baby has you and Topper. You’re both perfect.”

“Is that what this is about? We don’t even know whose baby it is, and it doesn’t matter!” you said, trying to make him understand, but Rafe shook his head.

“No, this isn’t about genes,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“Okay,” you replied gently, reaching for his hand. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Topper and I need you. If you struggle with her, that’s fine. Take your time, but we need you.”

It was as though the dam inside him finally broke. Rafe’s face crumpled, and he started to sob, great heaving breaths as though all the fear and guilt he’d been bottling up poured out at once. You pulled him into your arms, holding him as tightly as you could. "We love you," you whispered, stroking his hair, trying to let him feel how much he mattered.

Topper came into the room with the baby cradled in his arms, her small cries filling the space. He handed her to you to feed and in return, you signaled him with a look to take over comforting Rafe. It was the first time, as far as you could tell, that Topper had physically touched Rafe since the baby was born. The warmth of that touch seemed to soften Rafe even more, and his sobs slowed to quiet, broken breaths.

Once the baby was done feeding and Topper stepped away, you saw Rafe staring at her, his eyes wide and uncertain. There was longing there, besides so much fear. You swallowed hard and approached him.

“Sit up,” you said softly. He hesitated but did as you asked.

You passed him the baby, watching as his hands trembled while he held her for the first time. His whole body was tense, his breath shallow, his face filled with dread. “Meet your papa,” you whispered to your daughter with a smile, hoping to ease some of Rafe’s tension.

“I’m going to fuck her up so bad,” Rafe mumbled, his voice barely audible but shaking with conviction.

Topper, who had been watching from the corner, looked stunned. “What?” he asked incredulously.

“You’re not,” you replied calmly, meeting Rafe’s eyes. “You’re not going to mess anything up, Rafe.”

“I’m going to fuck everything up,” Rafe insisted, his voice cracking as his anxiety surged again. He quickly passed the baby back to you, his face pale. “Fuck. I’m gonna throw up.”

He stood up abruptly and left the room. This is when pure panic bloomed in your chest. You glanced at Topper, your heart pounding. “Topper,” you said urgently, “I know we are all stressed and tired but you have to take care of him or we’re going to lose him. He’s thinking about leaving us, I’m not even kidding.”

Topper’s face tightened. He didn’t argue. He followed Rafe out of the room, and you could hear the low murmur of voices from the hallway.

Rafe had always been hard on himself, always felt like he was on the verge of failure. You knew he was beating himself up for feeling so useless, for not knowing how to be a father yet. But none of this was easy for him, for any of you.

“If you want to help,” Topper’s voice rose, uncharacteristically stern, “then start by taking care of yourself first, Rafe! You’re not much help if we have to look after you all the time. Jesus Christ, you’re jeopardizing everything, Rafe, even your work!”

There was a long pause, then Rafe’s voice, so quiet that you almost didn’t understand him. “I don’t know what to do, Top.”

Topper softened immediately. “Therapy, Rafe. As soon as possible. And groups, twice a day if you have to.” 

Again, there was a long stretch of silence.

“I know we have a lot going on,” Rafe admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But… could you take me? I know I’m shit for even asking, there’s so much going on with the baby, but I’m not sure what I’ll do if I leave the apartment alone.”

Topper didn’t hesitate. You watched as he drew Rafe into his arms, kissing the top of his head over and over again. “Of course, dickhead,” Topper whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Rafe murmured, his voice cracking.

They both turned to you, and Topper asked, “Are you okay if we go to a meeting?”

You smiled at them, the weight on your chest easing just a bit. “I’ll manage two hours without you. Go, please.” You waved them out, pushing them lovingly toward the door.

#

That night, Topper brought Rafe home from his meeting, and you made sure to welcome him back with open arms. After Rafe showered, Topper and you sat in the kitchen, talking quietly about dinner.

“I ordered Lillo’s,” Rafe said, a tentative smile on his face. Lillo’s had always been your go-to for cozy family nights.

You stood up and wrapped your arms around his waist. “I’m so proud of you,” you whispered against his chest, feeling his body relax into your embrace. Right then, you knew you were going to be alright.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole,” Rafe said, his voice breaking again as tears welled in his eyes. “I’m so afraid of ruining her.”

You held him tighter, Topper coming to stand beside you, resting his hand on Rafe’s back. “Rafe, you need to stop saying that,” you told him firmly. “You won’t ruin her.”

Topper leaned in, kissing his temple, his voice gentle but direct. “You’re not Ward, Rafe.”

Rafe flinched at the mention of his father’s name, but Topper didn’t shy away. He needed to hear it, and you could see him start to process it.

“We’ll all make mistakes,” you added, reaching for Rafe’s hand, “but we’re going to be alright. She’s going to be alright.”

Rafe looked at you both, raw and vulnerable. “Can I hold her?” he asked, voice trembling.

Normally, you wouldn’t wake the baby, but this felt like an exception. You gently picked her up and passed her to Rafe. His arms shook as he cradled her, but you could see the awe in his eyes as he stared down at her sleeping face.

“She’s so perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

And for the first time ever, the four of you felt like a family.

#

In the weeks that followed, Topper stepped up even more. Aside from aiming for 'Father of the Year' by taking care of the baby as much as humanly possible, he also took Rafe to his meetings and therapy sessions and helped him with work, reminding him to check emails and take calls and do work and take breaks. How Topper did it—you had no idea.

And slowly, Rafe began to heal. 

A month later, you found him taking a phone call from a client with Lila nestled in his arms, rocking her to sleep as he worked.

You watched him from across the room, and your heart swelled with love. He looked over at you and smiled, and you smiled back, knowing deep down that you were good.

You were all good.

All four of you.

You, Topper, Rafe and Lila.

[bedoballoons]

Forgive me for spamming your inbox i just have a lot to say for some reason </3

This is just a little thing thats been on my mind ever since my sailor moon phase xame back :,) character and reader with a tuxedo mask and sailor moon type of relationship urgrggrh

Pretty much smart responsible mature guy with sensitive klutz reader :( god i'd do anything to have this irl help i love this dynamic sm

-🧚‍��️

I like spam, don't worry :p I LOVE THE SAILOR MOON AESTHETIC!! It's inspired my art alot and I still have yet to fully finish the series! Have you watched the whole thing, is it good 👀

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎄𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎄

{༻~The ship has sailed~༺}

CW: Fluffy and sweet! Readers kinda klutzy but very sweet! Mentions of reader owning a cat!

(Includes: Thoma, and Zhongli, Childe!)

𑁍༄Thoma:

"Are you alright?"

You looked up at Thoma from your place on the floor, cupcake batter dripping down your face and cupcakes sprawled around you..."Yes but my cute cupcakes are having issues..." You sighed in defeat as he walked over to you, helping you off the ground and washing the batter off of you gently with a towel.

"We can make more, I'll help."

"But I wanted to make them for you..." You looked away with a light blush, wishing that you'd been a little more careful so he wouldn't have found out your true intentions.

He gave you a sweet smile, leaning in to kiss your cheek, "While I love the things you make me, I enjoy spending time with you more. Let's make the next batch together."

𑁍༄Zhongli:

You giggled at your cat as he laid belly up on the floor, dramatically acting exhausted after his long day of doing nothing, "Zhongli, do you ever wish you could curl up in a ball like a cat and sleep anywhere?" You turned to face the man sitting next to you, wondering how he could possibly be so engrossed with the rather long boring book he held in his hands...just the first sentence had given you a headache...

He looked up from the words on the written page and gave you a small smile, "No, I don't believe I have. Although they are sweet creatures and their ability to curl up and sleep anywhere seems appealing, I rest perfectly fine...as long as I am with you that is."

Your cheeks went warm, your heart skipping a beat as you hid your face in your hands...how had he turned such strange question into something so sweet..."That's not what I thought you were going to say."

"I suppose it was a bit more of a response than needed, but I do so much enjoy when your cheeks blush that way..."

"Eeee!"

𑁍༄Childe:

"Woah, what did you do..." Childe chuckled as he took in the scene in front of him, it seemed your sweater had begun to unravel unbeknownst to you and one of the loose threads had decided to latch itself on just about everything. Now you were standing in the middle of the room with a pastel spider web surrounding you and you couldn't possibly move unless you wished for everything to be pulled along with you.

Your cheeks blushed in embarrassment, this was just another one of those clumsy situations you always got yourself in...,"I swear I had nothing to do with this."

"Mhm, I completely believe you. Here let me help" He hurried to untangle everything, collecting the string in a nice bundle around his hand until he finally got all the way back to you, the source. "There we go, you're free."

"Thank you- woah!" You tripped forward, falling into his arms with a huff...at least he'd always be there to catch you.

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Merry Christmas~*⁠.⁠✧

[lightgriffinsect]

happy belated birfday to agoti andromeda

a very entity birhtday

(Friday Night Funkin')

Words: 1995

Summary:

Belated birthday fanfic for Agoti Andromeda, the coolest digidevil singer around! Especially in his brother's eyes. How kind of their friends to be there for them on Agoti's special day, Aldryx sighs. How lucky they are, to all be there, alive and okay.

this was very rushed i'm sorry if it sucks and sorry that it's late /lhj

Entity/Tabi taglist: @shippin-my-sanses, @hoodiehydra, @parrotsartstop, @flurriethefox, @alex-dontknow, @randomlysent, @onemothhwomann, @k1rameki, @irenefandomsfan

Let me know if you'd like to be added to/removed from the taglist!

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

“AGOTI.” Aldryx kicks open the door to the bedroom that his beloved baby brother hijacked last night. “WAKE UP IT IS TEN IN THE MORNING.”

“Hnnhhgnh…” Agoti mumbles, rolling over in bed and becoming enveloped in Aldryx’s dark comforter, like a fork entwined in spaghetti. “Five more minutes…”

“NO. Wake up, oh my God.” Aldryx grabs what, after careful assessment, he’s pretty sure might be an edge of the blanket, trying to unravel Agoti from his self-imposed prison like a toilet roll.

Nope. Too late. The blanket has neither beginning nor end.

“Don’ wanna…” Agoti grouses. He rolls over again, off the edge of the bed and onto the floor, taking the sheets with him. No reaction; he just sinks even deeper into the blanket. “I’m sleeeepyyyyyy…”

“That’s your own fault, staying up till two playing Minecraft.” Aldryx retorts, trying to decide how to explain to everyone that Agoti doesn’t care. Something in his stomach sinks.

How is he supposed to get this guy downstairs? Could he just…carry the whole bundle? Aldryx drops to one knee, sliding his arms beneath Agoti, blanket and all. Agoti yelps as the older scoops him up and leaves the room. “Pu’ me down!”

“You’ll wake up at six for Tabi’s birthday but miss your own?” Aldryx says instead, raising a brow in return. 

“Birthday?” Agoti finally pokes his head out of the cocoon Aldryx can probably just dump on Tabs to untangle him out of. “‘S my birthday a’rready?”

“Yes . You wouldn’t shut up about it yesterday, it’s all you talked about. Have you forgotten?” Al rolls his eyes as exaggeratedly as he can, making sure Agoti can see.

“Eeeeeyyyup.” His little brother slumps back down, going limp. Bright, impish eyes watch him hopefully. “Didja get me the headset I wanted?”

“You’ll see.” At the bottom of the stairs, Aldryx lets him tumble to the floor. Agoti groans, kicking at the comforter until his tail and legs are free. He shoots to his feet with a wide grin, stretching his limbs like a cat. Al can’t help a small smile of his own. Agoti’s morning demeanor is something else.

“That means no.” Agoti sticks out his tongue. “Stop staring at me. Where is everyone?” His tail swishes energetically. His bright, eager gaze darts from the stairwell to the closet behind it, to the well-lit ground floor as he trails behind Aldryx down the hall to the living room. Like he used to when they were little and only had each other and wouldn’t have survived if everything had chosen to go to hell back then. 

Good thing it waited until they were both just barely adults with little understanding of what games the music industry liked to play. 

“Tabs and Aya are here too. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up since eight,” Aldryx half lies. They’re actually still decorating the place. Not that Agoti would care, so why not stretch it a bit?

“Really?” Agoti stops short, tail drooping. “Oh. I— I didn’t think…” He shrinks a little, face reddening, and Aldryx immediately regrets saying that. He shouldn’t have said that, he shouldn’t have forgotten. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Al hastily reassures him. Agoti’s anxiety never really went away. Even though he’d gotten better at dealing with it once the fame hit. He’d started healing at that time, letting his newfound confidence flourish. Letting himself feel better about his life.

Then the Dearests happened. Nikusa, the Void happened. Everything relapsed. And even though Agoti’s found it easier to manage his fears this time, with his family and friends and experience, Aldryx can’t imagine the kind of residual worries his little brother must still be carrying. No matter how good he’s gotten at not apologizing, not caring what everyone thinks. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m— I’m glad, actually. You need to sleep more anyway.” He rests a hand on Agoti’s shoulder. “Come on, Ayana and Tabi aren’t gonna mind. They’re excited to see you.”

“Wh’ ‘bout Mom ‘n Dad?” Agoti dropped that habit of halving his words long ago. He must be so nervous for it to have come back so suddenly. Aldryx gives Agoti’s shoulder a small squeeze.

“Well…” Aldryx lowers his voice, leaning in closer. “I’m technically not supposed to be saying anything, but…” He grins at Agoti’s huge eyes. “They’re out getting something for you.”

“What?” Agoti presses, tail swaying rapidly. “Is it the—”

“Can’t tell.” Aldryx pulls away, snickering. “It’s a surprise… ” He pulls his brother by the shoulder to the living room door, ignoring Agoti’s whine of dismay and also how obvious the surprise actually is. “Now come on!”

“Jerk,” Agoti huffs. But his eyes light up brighter than anything when the door swings open and Ayana and Tabi both yelp.

“We’re not done!” Aya shouts, shoving a throw pillow in Aldryx’s face. Al stumbles back. “Go! Shoo! Happy birthday! Get out!” Behind her, Tabi holds up his arms, tangled in a banner reading “HAPPY BIRHTDAY AGOTI” in bold red and green and blue letters, as if to shield himself. 

“Thanks, guys! Nice banner!” Agoti throws his arms around them both instead. “Can’t believe it’s my birhtday already!”

Ayana and Tabs freeze at that before laughing sheepishly. “We were hoping you wouldn’t notice…” Tabi says, letting the banner fall to the floor in a heap before trying to unravel it. “It was my mistake. I, uh, was distracted. By the cupcakes,” he mumbles under his breath. “Uhm. Sorry?”

“It’s fine,” Aldryx drops the pillow on the couch with a little smile, reaching over to help Tabs put up the banner. “You guys have done enough anyway.” How kind of them to help make today special for Agoti, when everything is still so uncertain and dangerous for all of them.

“You got cupcakes!” Agoti gushes, darting over to the platter of food on the coffee table. “And— ooh, are those my presents?” His gaze snaps to the massive pile of gift wrapped boxes, gleaming in the morning sun as it filters through the bay window. “What’d you guys even get me?”

Ayana clears her throat. “That is classified.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Because…we still have to get through breakfast!” Tabi gestures quickly at the cupcakes and coffee, all jazz hands-like. “We got those caramel chocolate ones you were always saying—”

“Aw— you did?! You did! ” Agoti shoves past them, snatching up one of said cupcakes. It’s topped with chocolate frosting and drizzled in caramel sauce. “I’ve never had these ones! You guys— ” He flings an arm around Tabi, nearly crushing him in a hug.

Aldryx laughs, leaning over to pluck one of the plain red velvets. How sweet of Ayana and Tabi, to remember that he doesn’t like cream cheese frosting. “Thanks for picking these up.”

“Mm-hm!” Agoti nods eagerly through a mouthful of chocolate cake.

“It’s no problem,” Ayana chuckles softly. “It’s the least we could do.”

As the four of them are talking over coffee and more cupcakes than are probably healthy for them, the front door clicks open. “Good morning, kids!” Amora sings out. “I should hope you saved some breakfast for us?”

“Of course we did,” Tabi scoffs, opening the door to receive them and immediately getting enveloped in two warm blue hugs. “Morning.”

“Hi! Morning!” Agoti bolts over and barges his way into the huddle. 

“Morning, Sol! Amora!” Aldryx says cheerfully, rising to give his mother a peck on the cheek. “How’d it go?”

“Oh, it went swimmingly,” Amora practically gushes. “Agoti, you’re not going to believe what we finally—”

“That is classified,” Sol interrupts, giving her a meaningful look at the same time as Ayana. He passes a relatively small box to her. Like many of the others, it’s wrapped in bright paper with a sparkling stick-on bow. “Until we’ve gotten through all the other presents.” There are a lot of presents.

“You guys all suck,” Agoti grouses, folding his arms and dropping to the floor criss-cross applesauce.

Tabi does the same. “But you don’t care.”

“But I don’t care.” Agoti leans on him. Aldryx drops to his brother’s side and throws his arms around him. Agoti’s tail coils around all three of them. “Can we open my things now?”

“But of course,” Ayana snickers, scooping up an armful of boxes and dumping them in Agoti’s lap. 

“Oh, sweet!” Agoti grabs one wrapped in shiny red and gold, haphazardly tearing at the paper and carelessly tossing it aside as his family crowds around him. The pure glee in his smile is so contagious, Aldryx has to suppress his laugh, watching closely over his little brother’s shoulder, soaking up the warmth and cheer. 

Agoti hasn’t been so excited over anything in months, the way he’s excited over the new computer monitor he’s had his eye on for so long. He continues to ramble and praise everything else they got him, decorated in red and white and silver. The huge shark plush that’s probably going to take up what little space remains of his bed. The several hoodies, in more colors than just red, because he really needs to expand his wardrobe.

“These are from you,” Agoti grumbles to Aldryx, inspecting the deep blue of the cotton fabric.

“They are from me,” Al agrees with a grin, resting his chin on his brother’s shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

Agoti blows at his face. “Thanks anyway. It’s… I like the color.” His tone is still grumpy, but there’s a touch of sincerity to it.

“I’m glad.”

“And now,” Ayana pants, shoving aside the mass of empty, half-torn cardboard boxes and crumpled wrapping paper, “we have the last one!” She holds up the unremarkable box from earlier. From this angle, Aldryx realizes it reads “CLASSIFIED” on one side. Wow.

“Oh, yeah!” Agoti whoops, snatching it from her and enthusiastically ripping off the paper. “I think I know what this— I WAS RIGHT!” 

“You were right,” Tabi confirms, laughing softly as he tries to recover from the sudden volume increase. “Yeah. Happy birthday.”

“You actually got it for me!” Agoti is still gushing over the headset he’s been wanting since forever. He probably isn’t even listening to the rest of them right now. “OhmyGodI’vebeenwantingthisoneforsolongthankyousososomuchI’msohappyrightnow—”

“Agoti,” Sol speaks up gently, “take a moment to breathe. Relax.”

“Hhhokay,” Agoti gasps, eyes watering. Is his throat hurting from all the yelling he’s been doing? “I just…I wanted this forever and you finally got it for me and it’s so cool and you’re all here and you got me cupcakes and hoodies and another shark plushie even though I already have six…” Agoti trails off, looking down at his lap. His voice is watery too. The rest of them, as one, softly coo and crowd around him in a hug.

Aldryx rubs his back. “It’s all good, buddy.” You deserve the world, he wants to say, among so many other cheesy things that he can never bring himself to admit. “You do great. We wanted to do something great too. That’s all there is to it.”

“We love you,” Amora says, totally unabashed. Aldryx is sort of envious. She knows how to embody the warmth of a star better than any of them.

“You’re our best friend,” Ayana mumbles with a small smile, tears pricking her own eyes. “Of course we wanted to get you another shark plushie, man.” Tabi hugs him tighter in silent agreement.

Sol moves closer to him, visibly unsure, probably tongue-tied. He’s never been one for sappy verbal affection. Instead he just places a hand on Agoti’s head, combing his fingers through his tendrils. Agoti whines and leans into the touch. 

The six of them just sit there like that for a few minutes, huddled on the carpet around the life of their party. Occasionally one of them will mumble another awkwardly rephrased I love you, directed at Agoti but meant for all of them. 

For Aldryx, for the first time in a long, long time, it really does feel like it too.

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

my tumblr moot @shippin-my-sanses headcanons that Aldryx likes red velvet but dislikes the cream cheese frosting, and I really liked it so I mentioned it in this fic! go check out her blog she's a super sweet and fun person, with great takes on the Entity characters!

I promise I won't be late for Aldryx's birthday inshallah ^^;

[variousqueerthings]

You're monsters. Here you are, hiding away at the end of time. Do you even know why? Because you are hated.

Hell Bent... and I think this will be a funny old rating after Heaven Sent.... I wonder if I need to at one point in the future once I'm a bit less inured with this era of dw go back and watch capaldi's era again with somewhat unblinkered eyes, because my confession is that... I don't understand a lot of what happened in Hell Bent, and I'm not sure if it's because it's a whole lotta nonsense or because I've maybe gone a little too hard on watching this era in a relatively short timeframe

sexism rank objectification (female character is ogled/harassed/turned into a sex joke by the doctor and/or a lead we’re supposed to root for and/or the camera): 10/10

sexism rank plot-point (lead female character is only there to serve plot, not to have her emotional interiority explored, or given agency to her emotional interiority): 7/10

interesting complex or pointlessly complex (does the complexity serve the narrative or does it just serve to be confusing as a stand-in for smart, this includes visually): 2/10

furthers character and/or lore and/or plot development (broader question that ties into the previous ones, at least two of these, ideally three should be fulfilled): 7/10

companion matters (the companion doesn’t always have to be there, but if the companion is there, can they function without the doctor– and overall per season how often is the companion the focus or POV of the story): 6/10

the doctor is more than just “godlike” (examines the doctor’s flaws and limitations, doesn’t solve a plot by having it revolve entirely around the doctor’s existence): 4/10

doesn’t look down on previous doctor who (by erasing or mocking its importance, by redoing and “bettering” previous beloved plotpoints or characters, etc.): 7/10

isn’t trying to insert hamfisted sexiness (m*ffat famously talked a lot about how dw should be sexier multiple times, he sucks at writing it): 10/10

internal world has consistency (characters have backgrounds, feel rooted in a place with other people, generally feel like they have Lives): 3/10

Politics (how conservative is the story): 5/10

FULL RATING: 61/100 (if I can count….)

this rating is so fuckn funny to me. really up and down the scale! still, for anyone who's seen me rate a M*ffat finale before, this is by far the highest rated one. fuckn. easily. and all you needed to do, was centre the Companion character. didn't even need to write a plot that made sense (clearly)

OBJECTIFICATION: leaving on a high note, Clara is Not Objectified! neither is anyone else. gosh my standards are low sometimes.

PLOT-POINT: Clara is Not just a plot point in this either! woo! it takes us awhile to get to her, but then she has some pretty strong opinions, which she does enforce, on how she should be treated, which I think is especially Neat opposite Time Lords, who often tend to see humans (amongst many others) as inherently unimportant in the grand scheme of things

this episode honestly single-handedly gives me a lot of what I'd been constantly asking for with Clara, and while it is... well, it's very very very late into her run, it is nice that she leaves on a highnote. this idea of not wanting to die, and fighting against that death until it's on her terms is far more how I read Clara-as-character as well, versus the whole Thing in Face The Raven. thiiiis is who I see her as, at core

COMPLEXITY: so I actually went and looked at the wiki rundown of this episode and it states this -- "Aided by the Gallifreyan military, the Doctor usurps and exiles Lord President Rassilon. Now the new President, the Doctor learns that Rassilon imprisoned him in the dial to force him to confess about the Hybrid, which is prophesied by the Time Lords to stand in Gallifrey's ruins and unravel the Web of Time."

and I'm like, yeah, that's... that's what I thought happened uh, which... is all really dumb, as far as I can tell. wh- how did the Doctor's Confession Dial get to Gallifrey? why did they trap the Doctor in there as the best way to figure out the "truth" about the Hybrid? why does anyone think the Doctor knows anything about this in the first place? oh gosh, there's stuff here that belongs on the "godlike" doctor point, so I'll skip the "aided by the military" bit for now, but also... is this post-Time War then (yes, because they mention the Doctor is war hero... sigh) but... is Rassilon still in charge? how was that so easy???? what is the Web of Time, did we learn about this earlier???

all of this kind of -- as far as I can tell -- happens in the episode in a sort of "you know, all of this naturally a progression from one thing to the next" kind of way, and it's... it's not a natural progression! I've said a couple of times this season that it feels like I've missed an episode, but oh booooy does this episode hammer that home.

and that's just the opening, what happens next???

ok so the Doctor has the Time Lords retrieve Clara at the moment of her death, this is fine -- I mean, I still don't know why he's on Gallifrey to begin with, how they brought him there, or why they're doing as he tells them, but the Clara part of this story is actually the part that I enjoy!!! this is Clara's strongest episode this season and it's her goodbye! (well, I'm glad her goodbye episode doesn't suck actually, I'm glad she gets a nice send-off)

anyway then the Doctor and Clara run around Gallifrey for a bit, because technically Clara needs to go back and die, the Doctor steals a Tardis, all of this middle section, great, my love T'nia Miller is a Time Lord!!!! aw yeah!

then they go to the end end end of the Universe I guess and stumble over... Me! Me is fuckn! Still alive!!!!!!!! not a fucking scratch!!!!!!! how??????? why??????????? what is your purpose!!!!!!!

no, her purpose is to give this counterpoint about immortality and the Doctor, there's a metaphor here on idk. being this long-lived I guess. it's been done better before, numerous times, better with Jack, better with that guy in Lazarus Experiment, better in The God Complex, better with a whole buncha Time Lords, better in The Three Doctors, and I'm sure a whole host of other Classic!Who episodes I have yet to watch

the thing about Me is that she's introduced halfway through the season, her first episode is pretty good, her second episode is fiiine -- I'd say good even, on its own/in connection with the first episode, and then her third episode hits and I kinda... oh she's there to be an antagonist, but in a mysterious way where you're not sure where she stands, except she's made a whole bunch of errors, which she's not really enough of a character for me to feel any kind of sympathy with. when she realises she killed Clara, and she apologises, I don't care because she and Clara don't really have a relationship that makes it land for me

when she talks about the difficulties in setting up that refugee society, I don't care because I know we're not going to get anything really about this society and it's not going to influence the rest of the plot, and it didn't

she's such a thinly drawn character, that her use as a metaphor or a parable or a comparison or whatever she's meant to be doing is too loose for me to figure out what it is. it sucks to be immortal? I... I guess?

and now the Doctor wonders if she's not the Hybrid (which is the plottwist when the Doctor says "the Hybrid is me," he's actually saying "Me" as a name, fuckn... get it???) but... I still don't get why this Hybrid matters outside of a sudden prophecy or how it affects the greater universe that's been built. it feels like a last-minute addition to this season that they very quickly gave a few key characters a line here and there to allude to and then hoped it would stick. it makes no goshdarn sense!

technically I like this episode better than I've liked any other previous M*ffat-era finale episode, because it feels far more personal than any of those -- it's really about Clara saying goodbye on her own terms and that I really like

but the plot to get there is, as far as I can tell, nonsensical in its own internal logic.

oh, ok, to return to said plot, they're at the end of the Universe and Me -- the most immortal of all the immortals... somehow..... -- is just hanging out there in the ruins of Gallifrey, which... how'd she get there don't even worry about it, because we won't know and we've already apparently brought Gallifrey back into the main Universe somehow and I guess she just instinctively knew she'd come across the Doctor here or... idk, idkkkkk... I don't know. so much in this I don't know

the Doctor has a cunning plan to get rid of Clara's memory so that the Time Lords can't find her (?) and Clara overhears and rightfully goes "nuh-uh-uh, that's fucked up dude" (sure is, also... don't understand why it would work), but then she goes how about we basically roll the dice and one of us loses their memory and the Doctor says that sounds fair, and they do that and the Doctor has some brief Clara-amnesia

I don't understand why they do this. actually this is the main one that has me scratching my head. was it so that Clara could run while the Doctor was an amnesiac, is that what it was? I genuinely feel like maybe I just missed something on this one, but anyway, yeah, the Doctor pieces it back together, Clara runs off with Me in their Tardis (which the Doctor stole earlier) which got stuck as an American diner, the Doctor leaves in his Tardis, which had all the graffiti on it that Rigsy did, which disappears as the Tardis leaves

I think I need to rewatch that ending, because I was unclear actually on whether the Doctor remembers her face or not. it's not something that really bothers me in the way the rest of the plot-happenings in this episode do, but it's just something I wonder. I think that ending is good. I think it's bittersweet. I think it's a shame that Me doesn't feel more drawn, and that Clara didn't have much to do this season, so that them running off together felt like a natural next step, but I will take it as something one can definitely work with

I think it felt very natural to what I do feel I understand about Clara's character, and I like that she left the Doctor behind to go off on her own terms (honestly I never felt like she actually valued the Doctor much beyond what he was doing for her, but that's another post -- not like an "anti" post or anything, more of a "so Clara's kind of a messy bitch" post, which from what I've seen in fandom is something that's pretty chill of an opinion and in fact features heavily in why many people do like her character)

but yeah that plot... what?

CHARACTERS/LORE/PLOT: Clara is in suspension and will eventually die, but on her own terms. the Doctor is alone again.

Gallifrey is uh... still not sure tbh. that was confusing. Rassilon is deposed? is he? does it matter? I don't think it matters

I'll still rate this point highly, because it is another of the big switches in the story -- new companion will be coming up, let's see how these events affect the Doctor's relationship with her

COMPANIONS MATTER: Clara is more proactive in this episode than most any other of her run since... s7 I'd say. I'd have to double-check on that statement, but it has been a continuous Thing to me that Clara is there to talk fast, make witty comments, and either wait for the Doctor to give her instructions, or take matters into her own hands in ways that make her straight-up villain coded at times

in this one once she's on Gallifrey with the Doctor and they're running around in this spooky place, there's some Stuff she does, while the Doctor fetches the ersatz Tardis + she calls out the Time Lords for sucking, which is always winner behaviour

and then she decides when she dies, in the future... the long way round. still not sure about the whole mindwipe thing, but at least that's on her terms as well (although again... not villain coded but certainly unhinged and for what, that one)

“GODLIKE” DOCTOR: there's this bit at the beginning that I find insufferable, where the Doctor returns to the barn they were raised in (I do think it's funny that s7 showed the barn and then s8 was like "no yeah they were literally raised in a barn") and all the Shobogans (I'm assuming?) gather around, whispering tales of this super cool basically mythological figure, and then Rassilon orders the troops to capture the Doctor and the Doctor simply sends them off by being so cool, and then at the end Rassilon goes "fuckit kill him" and the troops are all going "no, this guy's a War Hero" and join with the Doctor and depose Rassilon for the sake of how fuckn Cool this guy is

it's everything I dislike in Who boiled into like. what was it 15 minutes or whatever of television?

also the Doctor then just steals another Tardis and runs off again, why did we need this whole build-up, there were other ways to get the Doctor to the citadel (like just straight up capturing him, you're being depicted as a military state, wtf do you care if someone has a good reputation in a war, even your super special war, and also why is the Doctor banking on this reputation, what is this whole bit saying???)

ohhhhhhhh it's soo. urgh. for the rest of the episode, the Doctor doesn't actually take centre stage so much in my opinion. once Clara is back, yeah there's some "ooh the Doctor what'll he do now" but mainly it's Clara with a bit of Time War lore sprinkled in, and then the whole bit at the end of the Universe where they reveal... do they reveal the Hybrid? is it just "the Doctor did too much to help Clara and that was bad"? genuinely does the Hybrid come up again ever???

but yeah that beginning.... at least Capaldi actually does look cool, whenever they tried something like this with Matt Smith, I was like, why is everyone staring in awe at a 12yr old?

PREVIOUS DOCTOR WHO: what is the Time War anymore but a way to make the Doctor's street cred go up?

there is stuff, like the Tardis looking like the 1963 Tardis, "reverse the polarity," the memory wipe references Donna, the Bad Wolf motif inexplicably shows up (I do wonder what that has to do with this episode) -- it's just the way that war is talked about makes my skin itch, otherwise relatively chill

“SEXINESS”: and thus, we send Clara on her next journey, happy in the knowledge that JLC, along with Capaldi, cured this run from terrible sexy dialogue

INTERNAL WORLD: Gallifrey as society? I hardly knew her. Military politics? dictatorship? Shobogans? idk, here's a barn, and now here's some. rooms. end of the Universe Gallifrey? uh. is also there

I think especially after setting up so many questions in the previous episode and ending it on that shot of the Citadel, this is kind of a let-down

POLITICS: so it's not really that political, but I did highlight the military element a few times, and I do think there should be more to it on this show than "this war guy good and that war guy bad because this is the hero and you're not." there has been more gravitas given to it than that, including in M*ffat's run so idk why... this.....

I also think the Doctor's own political relationship with Gallifrey is kind of not really a Thing in this -- and the Doctor has a more complicated relationship that "Time Lords Bad/Good" or even "always outside the Status Quo." The Doctor has done Status Quoing before, even though they're technically not a big fan of a lot of the setup in this place, but in this story none of that is really what's interesting

also a brief extra moment of "oh now I'm regenerated into a Woman, I realise that the other me was so full of Testosterone and Ego" that... ok we get it, you're trying feminism on for size. now we just need to get into the third wave, at least

FULL RATING: 61/100 (if I can count….)

AFTER ALL OF THAT, Clara leaves on a high. isn't that funny.

but seriously, there's so many questions I have, and if they do in fact get answered in the episode, mea culpa and all that, but uh. yeah, I was going "wait what's going on? why?" the entire way through

sometimes nonsense has gotta be gotten through in service to emotional pay-off, I guess. Au revoir Clara, hope you have a lovely time doing exactly what you've been doing before: getting into a toxic relationship with an ancient being in a time travel machine

(and next episode we say goodbye to River as well, lotta fuckn goodbyes happening huh)

similar question to last episode, why is it called Hell Bent? (I really need to get that list of questions together so I can do a concentrated search)

[game-weaver]

"..."

He fell silent again. There were a million things he wanted to say right now, but that wasn't what Yugi wanted. Letting this... go? Was Yugi even aware of what he was asking of Atem? Was he even aware of the event that started this whole landslide?

The affair with Dartz, the keeping it a secret, the blowup when it was forced into the public ear... That was Atem. That was also Dartz, sure. But Atem was the one who kept coming back to him. Atem was the one who kept this a secret.

However, Yugi was right. Atem wasn't around when the incident happened, so there was no way he could have done anything to help him. How could he feel guilty for an event that he didn't know happened?

"I don't like it. You know I don't like it..." Atem shuttered, trying to keep himself together. "But... you're right. There was no way for me to know until now. That being said, I'm not okay that it turned out this way, but... fine. I wasn't involved, so why should I feel the need to take blame?" He stopped again, a heavy swallow could be heard, again trying to keep it together.

"It could have been a lot worse. I should take solace in that. You're here. That's what matters." Another heavy swallow. "I... do hope you gave him what for, and he knows what happens when you piss off a fae." That's... a good thing? "Just... be more careful next time. Okay?"

@sennenpharaoh

Yugi watched him war with himself. He knew he was asking something really hard of him, that's why he wasn't sure Atem would even agree to it. He knew that Atem dwelled on things, the guilt festering inside sometimes for a very long time, but he didn't want this to follow the same fate. So he waited, patiently, for Atem to speak again.

"I know you don't like it," he agreed before lifting his hands, he cupped Atem's face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as his eyes traced every line he saw. The curve of his nose, the sharp points of his eyes, that strong jaw. As if committing every detail to memory. "Believe me, it isn't how I wanted it to turn out either, but… It was my sloppiness. I shouldn't have let my guard down and I learned the hard way."

Leaning forward, he rested his forehead to Atem's. For just a moment, he brushed along that thread again, like a soft breath. Now that he knew it was there… He wondered if he should nurture it, gently tug on it from time to time, encourage it to open further. It… Was nice, knowing it was there. He still felt terrible that Atem hurt because of him, but having that familiarity again… It brought a certain kind of comfort.

"I made him relive his own memories." He murmured. "I trapped him in a cycle of remembering his loved ones and losing them only for it to be a nightmare within a nightmare. So many cycles and I was there watching his mind unravel. That's why he was so pissed off with me." He finally smiled, if only a little. "I'm not as good as my father but I gave him hell, I promise you that."

Lifting Atem's hand and resting it above his heart he nodded. "I promise I'll be more careful. And... I promise to not keep something like this from you again."

[doctorho]

If you knew what the bluebirds sing (part 21)

Royal! Viktor x gender neutral reader, 2.5 k words, warnings: brief mentions of drugs and violence, but nothing graphic

hi guys!! i'm back <3 life has been a wild ride lately, and i didn't really know what to do with this chapter, i think i was just overthinking it, not sure how to lay out everything. turns out that when you start writing a story without having a plan for what happens, you might end up having to improvise some stuff. who knew.

but here we are!! finally!! sorry it took forever, i hope you’re all doing well!! yeehaw

tags: @aggressa @obsessive-sapphic @shadow-pancake9 @agatemermaid @scorpio-echo @kalisbury @viktoryscreech @ivetoldamillionlies @twilightdollie @cassandras-musings @kaimerra @raiden88 @emma-the-duck17 @thefiasco-onyourblock @pinkrose1422

The next week is a blur of passed-down notes hidden in laundry baskets, carefully planned trips to the North tower and back, and secret meetings in dark distant near-forgotten rooms of the library archives. 

Empty hallways, silent as if frozen in time. Anxiety buzzing in your veins with every dangerous turn you take, and the nervousness slithering at the bottom of your stomach like a nest of blind eels. 

It settles to a steady background hum, the danger. Knowing how easily this could all crumble if you got caught, or said the wrong thing, or simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You mostly learn to ignore it, too busy focusing on whichever task at hand was more important than worrying – but the worry lingers, on the back of your mind. Coats your skin like a thin layer of dust. 

It’s a little bit like holding your breath. Like you’re always a little bit on your toes. Always waiting for something to go wrong. Holding something fragile and just waiting to trip.

It feels absurd, all of it. Being this close to something this big. Seeing Viktor gather information about everything that was going on behind his back. All the secrets, all the affairs he wasn’t supposed to meddle in. All the lies. All the secret, hushed agreements he wasn’t supposed to hear about. And you definitely weren’t supposed to hear about any of this, either; so watching it all unfold, helping him unravel it, felt like seeing something you weren’t supposed to see. 

It felt like holding your fingers on the heartlines of the kingdom.

It starts simply. With Viktor wanting to map out everything he isn’t supposed to know. First, from you, and then from Jayce, and then from Caitlyn. She proves to be more helpful than you’d thought, having an insider’s perspective to whatever the guards were up to, and a good pair of eyes. 

Apparently, she had already been looking into it on her own. 

You had never had an actual conversation with her before, but it came clear pretty quickly that she was as done with the corruption as you were. And more than excited to jump at the opportunity to do something about it.

When she shows up to the first secret meeting, it is with a plan and a folder full of her own observations. 

You’re in one of the dusty old rooms in the library, sitting around a large round wooden table that was probably at least twice as old as you were. She walks into the room, places the folder down with a dull thud, and then shifts her weight from one side to the other, and looks at both Viktor and Jayce like she’s waiting for something.

Viktor looks at the folder, and then at her, and then he simply raises one eyebrow. 

“Jayce told me you needed evidence,” Caitlyn says, her voice quiet but clear, “It’s not much, but I thought I’d provide some helpful notes.”

“Not much?” Jayce comments, leaning closer to the table and tilting his head a bit, looking at the folder sideways, “That’s like, a whole book.” 

Both Caitlyn and Viktor ignore him, and you just smile faintly. 

Viktor leans closer to the table, and looks up at Caitlyn. “May I?” He asks, nodding towards the folder, and then looking at Caitlyn until she nods back.

“Of course,” She answers, gesturing towards the table, “I mean, it’s your kingdom.”

Viktor breathes out a quiet huff, half chuckle and half sigh. “Allegedly.” He mutters, while reaching for the folder. 

A part of you wants to do…something. Reach out to him, maybe. It’s stupid, and irrelevant, and you know this isn’t even on the list of priorities at the moment, but the bitter undertone in his voice leaves you feeling like your entire soul is itching to help somehow. 

Slowly, with a barely-there movement, you gently press your leg against his under the table. Just to let him know you’re there. 

He knows, of course. You’re sitting on the seat next to him, yes, logically, he knows you’re there. But this is more a reminder than anything, a silent offer of comfort, letting him know that you’re there, for all of this. 

He doesn’t react visibly, and doesn’t take his eyes off the folder, but his thigh presses against yours slightly. 

He pulls the folder towards himself quietly and opens it, studying the first page for only a few seconds before looking up at Caitlyn again.

“Can you tell me more about this?” He asks, nodding towards the folder again.

It was full of notes and even some pictures – drawings, mostly – and it seemed to be color-coded. Or, it was colorful, and you guessed that that was probably for a reason. You doubted that Caitlyn had colored the pages and titles for fun.

She nods again, the gesture fast, short and efficient, before listing what all the colors responded to. Viktor shifts his eyes back to the notes slowly, and you do your best to follow Caitlyn’s explanation, but at least some of it slips away from your brain instantly. 

Blue notes are about the guards. Red is violence, purple is drugs. She had gathered pretty much the same information you had, except from the other side of the problem and a lot earlier. 

According to her, the guards had been quietly running their own operations for at least as long as she had been there, and as far as she could easily trace it back. 

She doesn’t say it out loud, but that means that it’s been going on at least as long as Viktor has been occupying the throne. 

That’s both a small relief and a sinking disappointment that leaves your heart feeling a bit too heavy. 

It means that this started long before Viktor was old enough to do anything about it, but it also means that the problem is bigger and older than you had originally thought. 

It seems to be deep-rooted into the daily life of the castle; quiet agreements with some of the important families in the city, convenient access for smuggling things in and out, and the guards always having a bit too much freedom to break the laws they were supposed to enforce.

Not all of them were in on it. But enough were that it seemed to be an open secret amongst them.

According to Caitlyn, it was one of those topics the other guards skirted around, but pretty carelessly. Talked about in off-handed remarks said only partially out loud. There seemed to be a silent agreement around how things worked, and it was easy to tell who got to play by different rules than everyone else.

And it was easy to see how they could be careless around breaking the rules when they were the ones supervising them.

The more she explains it, the thicker the air in your lungs feels. It’s wrong, and every one of you knows it, and with every passing second the problem starts to seem bigger and bigger and more out-of-reach, and it only serves to fuel your urge to tear the whole castle apart with your bare hands. 

Caitlyn is angry about it, too. You can see it; the way she’s steel-focused on making things better. The way she talks about how this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. 

Viktor sits quietly, listening. And it’s like there’s a dark cloud around him, heavy and ready to rain. He’s calm, and he speaks clearly, and listens carefully, and his movements are slow and purposeful. But there’s something lifeless about it, something hard and dense, like he’s tired of going through these motions. Like he’s wearing a mask again, performing the role he’s supposed to play. A puppet on a string trying to find a way to fight it. 

Jayce is lively enough for the both of them, moving around and making wild hand gestures while coming up with plans and suggestions. He keeps his voice hushed, even though Viktor is pretty sure no-one ever even comes to the nearest hallway, nevertheless the archive wing.  

Listening to the conversation feels like walking on thin ice.

You never know if – or when – it’s going to crack. 

Sitting there felt weird, too. It wasn’t really a place you were supposed to be hanging around in. If anything, you should have been using your time to make sure the room was a little less dusty.

But instead, you are sitting at the table. 

It’s a planned meeting. They all said they wanted you there. And yet something about it made the back of your neck crawl, like you were out of place and  just waiting to be caught. Which was, you guessed, a reasonable fear, but still an annoying one. Viktor had reassured you early on that no-one else used the room – it was full of old bank statements, and no-one was interested in those. According to him, the archives were the quietest rooms in the library; stagnant, frozen in time, and of little interest to anyone. 

It was shelves and shelves of old, leather-bound books and hand-pressed folders, with yellowed papers sticking out of some of them. The rooms were split up by topic; maps, infrastructure, lineage records, bank records, and who knows what else. The whole library was like a big maze, and you had never had the time to really pay attention to what was actually in there. 

But Viktor had, so you believed him. 

Some of the rooms had couches in them. Rooms that he liked hiding in, closer to the center of the library and within easier, faster access than the archives, which were far away from everything. 

He had shown you one of his favorite spots in the library, one night; an old, red, worn-out couch in one of the smaller library rooms. There were only a few shelves, a window with a view of the gardens – an unpopular part of it, off-trail, with only the shady side of some trees visible instead of the extravagant flowers that most people there seemed to be fond of – and a fireplace.

You could see why he liked it. It was calm, and quiet, and the gentle night rain created a nice steady sound against the windows, even managing to push down some of your lingering anxiety. He had lit some candles as soon as you’d entered the room, and with the fireplace, they had provided enough light to read by. 

He had read out loud to you, on the couch. One of his favorite books. It was the middle of the night, and you were pretty tired, but the moment was worth struggling to stay awake for. It was one of those rare glimpses of peace you had managed to steal, and you were going to hold onto it as best you could.

And when you’re sitting at the old conference table in the archive room, tired and angry and trying your best not to slip over to desperate, that’s what you hold onto. That feeling, that peace, that calmness. That simple happiness, that rightness that felt like something inside your heart had aligned after being slightly out-of-place for so long you couldn’t remember anything else.

That hunger to have more of it. That fragile, hollow-boned hope that maybe you could have that for real, without having to hide in the dark. 

The belief that all this trouble was worth fighting for. That it was all worth the risk. 

The more you look over Caitlyn’s folder, the more you hear them talk, the more you plan, the more solid the situation feels. The realer the danger gets. The more you start to feel like you’re in over your head. That you could have chosen an easier path to take. 

The plan is simple; strategically uproot all the secrets, and watch the system crumble. Watch all these fragile lies break each other.

“We don’t even need to tear it down," Caitlyn had said at one point, "This world. It’s falling down on its own, all around us. We can just use the momentum.”

It was true; with the way things were now, it wasn't working. Trying to make things better was a gamble, but it was a gamble worth the risk.

You hope.

It feels dangerous. It is dangerous, and it’s big, and you knew it could end badly for all of you. And the whole time you sit there planning, your brain periodically reminds you that you don’t have to do any of this.

But that always feels hollow. It’s true, of course; you could have just walked away from all of this. You didn’t have to be a part of it. You could have just let the world go on the way it was. You could have not gotten involved. 

You could have quit. You could have just turned a blind eye to all of it, you could have chosen not to get this close to the eye of the storm, the collapsing heart of the kingdom. You could have chosen to stay at a distance. Not get close to Viktor. Never look at him twice. Never think of him like this, from up close.

But even when you know that’s all technically true, you don’t believe it for a second. Because somehow this feeling, this hope for a better future, it has grown roots tightly around your heart. 

And you don’t even want to get rid of it. 

You want to fight for it, with your teeth bared and ready to snarl, ready to tear these rotten structures apart brick by brick. Even if it’s dangerous. Even if it’s borderline hopeless. Even if you feel too small to really be able to make a difference. 

You have to try.

Because you’re pretty sure something in your heart would die and choke and wither if you didn’t. 

And seeing all this injustice unfold around you felt like drowning, and even if you didn’t know if you could win, the idea of fighting felt like being able to breathe again. Like trying to swim to the surface after being submerged for a bit too long.

The night after the first secret meeting in the library, in a hushed careful voice, Viktor seems to agree.

You’re in his bed again, laying under the covers in the dark, bodies pressed so close that you could feel his breathing, slow and deep and steady. 

“Do you really think we can do this?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. You can feel his breath, warm on your skin as it fans over your face with each word.

In the darkness, it feels like the words envelop you, melting into the shadows and echoing in the chambers of your heart. There is something fragile in his voice, something hollow-boned and raw, and it sounds like he’s showing you his soul. The tired boy behind the mask.

For a single second, the whole world stands still.

“Yes,” You breathe back, into the darkness, the word nothing more than a soft exhale, “And even if we can’t, I think we have to try.” 

It feels light, saying that out loud. It’s true; 

You’re not sure if you could live the rest of your life wondering how things could have turned out if you stopped now. If you didn’t even try to make things better. 

If you didn’t even try to swim to the surface.

You want to see this hope bloom, even if that means that it could sink some thorns into your heart in the process.

He is worth the risk.

Next

[witch-hazels-musings]

nightmares

Includes: Childe, Albedo, Xiao

Warnings -> STRONG emotional images (panic attack, spectral hands grasping at character, feeling of overwhelming fear and dread) -> leads to comfort

Synopsis: Nightmares plague the characters sleep and they wake up startled - the reader comforts them 

I’m a SUCKER for painful things man - I want to put them through hell just to pull them back up again ... 

Anthology

Childe

He was drowning, suffocating by the thousands of hands pulling him deeper into the terrifying darkness he ran from. Their nails dug into his skin, pulling it back to reveal the horrors laying underneath. The thousands of vile acts he had done in service of the Tsaritsa, for the Fatui, now pouring from him and feeding the hunger of the hands, urging them to dig deeper into him until there was nothing left. 

He reached out toward the distant light, gasping and desperate. 

Childe...

The light called to him, speaking his name as if he were worth more than being a simple tool, a means to an end. The dirty hands grabbed at his face, he struggled with every ounce of his strength to get away. The fear of seeing what lay beyond the reach of the light spurring his determination. He screamed and nothing came out, instead his mouth filled with bloody fingers. 

Childe violently awoke, lurching forward with incredible force and urgency. He was drenched in sweat and fiercely forced air into his lungs. When he felt a hand on his arm he jerked away stumbling from the bed in heartbreaking distress. 

“Childe …” he heard your voice, saw your hand reaching out to him, saw how you looked at him as if he were some wild animal: fearfully.  “It’s me … do you see me.” he watched as you moved the sheets from your legs. “You’re safe, it’s okay.” you moved toward the edge of the bed, “Put the knife down.” He looked down into his hand and saw he was gripping onto the knife which he kept in the nightstand. His fingers wrapped so tightly around it that they had turned a painful shade of white. 

The beating of his heart continued to race even as he straightened himself out, even as he rubbed the sweat from his forehead. 

“I’m okay …” he spoke the words more to himself than to you, like a montra he recited every day. I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay. 

He heard the bed creak and, returning his attention to you, he saw you making your way toward him, hands open in an attempt to show him you didn’t mean any harm. 

“Is it okay? Can I come to you?” the words are covered in honey, and he knew you were trying to cover up the hesitation of your steps. He placed the knife on the windowsill and nodded, making sure you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. 

The feeling of your arms wrapping around him was akin to a drug. You provided him with comfort he’d never known, the sensation of your face resting against his chest, he reveled in it. Your voice had this magical power of reaching him no matter where he was, or what he was. 

“Your heart is beating so fast. That must have been one intense dream.” your lips connect with the space over his beating heart. 

“You can’t imagine,” he breathes into your hair, resting his face in it’s wild locks. He lets your scent fill him up, and this connection helps to calm him. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” you shift your head making him lift his own, you stare at one another in the moonlit room before he finally answers your question. 

“I don’t want to make my fears your own,” he places a kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m pretty tough, I can handle it.” you squeeze your arms around him in a playful manner which elicited a chuckle from Childe. “But, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’ll always listen, if you ever change your mind.” 

His heart rate slowed, thanks to the proximity of your own giving it the ability to match it’s pace. 

“Thanks,” He scooped you up and led you back to the bed, and once you got settled in between the sheets he slid down to rest his head against your chest. There he was able to drift back into a peaceful sleep by the rhythmic thumping of your heart and the movement of your fingers in his hair. 

Albedo

There was a long hallway, incredibly long, unending. His footsteps echoed off the walls and when he glanced upward he couldn’t find the ceiling. A child was laughing further down the passage, and he followed after it until he reached a blinding light, without hesitation he stepped through it. 

On the other side was a bustling city filled with laughing citizens weaving between one another, going about their day under the warmth of the sun. As he walked through the streets, he noted how the citizens didn’t seem to mind him. A woman stumbled before him and he reached out his hand to help her, when she turned to thank him her face contorted into uncomfortable, inhumane shapes. She screamed causing Albedo to stumble backwards and, in unison, every citizen stared at him, their mouths open, screaming. Their voices culminated into an unholy sound which unraveled his soul. 

Suddenly, shackles appeared around his wrists, his ankles, his neck. Their icy touch seeping into his skin. When he touched them the screaming only grew louder which caused him to cover his ears, tears falling from his eyes onto the stones below, which were now covered in snow. He looked up and saw burning buildings. Screaming families desperately trying to hold onto their children as the walls crumbled around them. He looked onward, and without warning the ground beneath him opened up and swallowed him whole. 

Albedo, in a hysterical fit, pushed himself off of his chest and onto his knees. His arms extended to keep him from the mattress and he watched how it became damp from the sweat dripping off of him. His heart was beating way too fast, he couldn’t breath, his chest felt tight and it began to make him panic. 

“Albedo?” a voice called to him, but the beating in his ears made it impossible to hear. He felt a hand slide along his back and it caused him to sit up suddenly, smacking the hand away from him. When his eyes saw you in the darkness he wondered what face he must be making based on the way you looked at him. 

“Albedo …” you called again. He grasped at his chest hoping he could find a way to pull the invisible weight off of him. His breathing still erratic. “Hey, look at me.” you told him, and when he looked at you he saw you were now sitting closer to him, your hand extended to his chest. The warmth of your fingers broke through the chill smothering his body and he watched as you pulled his hand to your chest. 

“Do you feel my heartbeat? Feel my breathing.” and he did. The even in and out of your chest, the steady thump of your heartbeat. He felt them. “That’s it, match my rhythm.” You placed your other hand on his shoulder, which provided him another way to ground himself. The images started to fade from his mind and were replaced by the outline of your frame, illuminated by the soft light from the bedside table. 

You looked at him and gave him a warm smile. “Keep breathing, I’m here.” You stroke his face and that’s when he learns he had been crying. He pressed his face into your palm, breathing in the sweet smell of your skin. “I’m here, and I’ll be here until you’re ready to sleep again.” 

You stayed with him even as the sun started to fill your room and birds chirped out morning salutations. 

Xiao 

An epic battle raged around him, the sounds of victorious and pained screams mixing with the clashing of swords and heavy claymores. He was running quickly through the mass of bodies thrusting and flying through the air. His mind focused and clear, it had to be if they were expected to win. 

To his left he saw the flash of red fabric, to his right he heard the booming voice of another and when he found the source he smiled to himself. It seemed that even through all of this the yaksha’s were able to relish and live. He felt his heart move at their elegant movements, how they used the strength of one another to quell the mania of the world. Xiao continued to run, his movements turning into a blur at the speed. In fact, he ran so fast that time seemed to move with him until he came skidding to a stop in an open field. 

He looked behind him confused as to how he got here, wondering if he had passed through some portal or door. He was alerted to a shriek and turned forward only to feel a sharp stabbing sensation pierce his chest. It propelled him backwards and as he fell, red strings claimed him. They wrapped around him, completely enveloping him and held him suspended. Again, there was a shriek. He turned his head and wished that he hadn’t. He saw the face of his kin pleading and begging to another before being struck down violently. Their body ripping in half before him. The yaksha decorated in purple garments turned and with a great thrust of their weapon impaled another. Xiao watched as their body, bathed in blue light, went limp and with the flick of the wrist were tossed into oblivion. 

Xiao writhed and pulled at the strings capturing his limbs, he spat and yelled but couldn’t escape. His head shook violently, unable to deal with the scene in front of him, and unable to do anything to stop it. He closed his eyes letting his angry tears drop into the black water slowly rising over his body. 

“Xiao,” a voice called out and when he opened his eyes he saw the dangling bodies of his yaksha family impaled against the nothingness which drowned him. 

He awoke in a fit. He felt the scream spill from his throat as he lurched upward. Around him things began to fall to the floor, toppling back to the ground as if a huge gust of wind had picked everything up all at once. Before his eyes a piece of paper fluttered past him before slipping under the trunk next to the window. Something touched his shoulder and in a second he had the perpetrator in a tight hold, one hand viciously wrapped around their wrist and the other gripping onto an arm. 

“It’s me, it’s me!” his eyes were clouded, but he knew the voice. “Come back … it’s me.” The breath in his lungs was hot, almost as if he had been standing next to an active volcano. His mouth was heaving in an attempt to grasp back to reality, to still his overworked mind. The sound of humming filled the room, it’s soft, slow tone pulling him in. He focused on it, taking the tune in as if it were a lifeline, the only light in the dark space which surrounded him.  After a bit, his eyesight began to clear and when he saw you, eyes closed humming to him, and his hand digging into your wrist he quickly let go.  

“You’re back,” you whisper, sending him a soft, ‘i’m relieved’ smile. 

He crawled off of the bed and made his way to the window, desperately in need for some fresh air, and an escape. 

“Whatever you saw in your dream, must have been very frightening.” your voice stilled his movements. “I’ll be here when you decide to come back,” he looks back at you, your legs crossed, hands resting in the blanket. The moonlight illuminates the space there, casting white shadows along your chest and face. You look like an ethereal being in this moment, and there is a call in his chest to return to you. 

His heart is still so heavy, and even though his breath has returned to a normal state, buzzing energy continues running through his veins. He looks at your wrist and can see a bruise beginning to form. He can’t risk letting his energy out with you near him, it’s too dangerous. Even though he feels the stab in his chest, he slips out the window and into the night sky. 

In the morning when you wake up you find qingxin flowers resting on the table next to the bed. You lift them and inhale their scent. 

“How did you sleep?” you turn to see Xiao perched in the window, his eyes downcast. 

“Alright,” you sniff the flowers again, “you came back.” 

He huffs at you and looks back out the window. His back resting against the windowsill, one leg bent so he can rest his arm on it, the other dangling over the edge. Sliding out of the bed you make your way over to him, taking up the space at his side. He looks at you and you can see he is looking at the bruise on your wrist. Placing his head in his palm he reaches down and grabs onto your wrist with the other. His fingers brush over the darkening skin. 

“Welcome back.” you whisper into the wind. 

[iliveiloveiwrite]

A Truth Universally Acknowledged // Anthony Bridgerton

Request: Hi angel! I love all of your stories, especially your Bridgerton and work! Is there any way you could write something soft and fluffy for Anthony and a female reader! PLEASE AND THANK YOU - Anon.

A/N: I haven’t written for Anthony in what seems like forever! As much as I love Benedict, I do love writing Anthony fics. This isn't overly long, I just wanted to write something soft and fluffy that’s entirely domestic as well. I hope you all like! Title is a quote from the first line of Pride and Prejudice (further quotes from the book are in italics).

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader.

Warnings: none - fluff, books, marriage, happy relationships, cute.

Word Count: 1.6k

The house is silent as Anthony strides through the waiting, open door. He nods his greeting to the Butler, Wilkins, before letting the weariness that had haunted him all day settle over his bones.

“Wilkins?” Anthony asks; no need to voice the question. Wilkins knows.

“Lady Bridgerton is in the Green-and-Gold, sir.”

Anthony smiles at the Butler. “You really do know everything.”

Wilkins smiles; nods his head. “It is my job, sir. Lady Bridgerton has already told me that you will take your final meal of the day in there, too.”

Anthony takes the stairs two at a time; refusing to accept his laboured breathing by the time he reaches the top. He was not an old man yet; he was still a very active man.

Turning left, he wanders blindly to the Green-and-Gold room named for the colour scheme of the walls and the furniture. His late grandmother had decorated the room; so fondly remembered by her ancestors that each refused to change a thing in the room save for any upholstering that needed to be done occasionally.

He finds you sitting on the left hand side of the room; the comfier side as argued by everyone who visits the room. Your legs are curled underneath you as your eyes pour over the page of an open book in your lap. From here, Anthony cannot possibly hazard a guess as to what you might be reading, but he feels a twinge of jealousy at the attention being paid to the book and not to him.

Well, love makes fools of us all, Anthony thinks to himself. “Darling,” Anthony greets in one single breath, as if the sight of you makes it all the easier for him to breathe.

“Darling,” You smile, standing from your seat, coming to greet the man you love with every fibre of your being. “How was your day?”

Anthony groans as he removes his jacket before tugging at the knot of his cravat. “Long,” He complains, struggling with the neckpiece. You smile at your husband, batting his hands away from his neck so you can take over. You feel the heat of his gaze as your hands work to do undo the knot he had tightened with a single tug; as the fabric unravels under your nimble fingers your husband reaches out to squeeze your waist.

“Thank you,” He whispers, voice full with an emotion you can’t quite decipher. Love? Weariness? A combination of both? Anthony looked ragged as you run your eyes over his face.

“I’m sorry that your day has been taxing, my love.”

“It’s all the better now that I’m here with you.”

“Flatterer,” You tease with no real heat behind your words. Anthony beams at you; eyes crinkling in the corners from the force of it as his hands tighten on your waist and his head dips to capture your lips in the kiss he has been thinking about for the better part of his day.

Breaking away, Anthony plants one, two, three kisses to your lips in quick, chaste succession leaving you breathless and highly amused. “How was your day?” He asks, curious as ever to find out what his wife does when he isn’t at home to distract you.

“Dull,” You answer plainly, enjoying the feel of Anthony’s strong arms around you.

“Dull?”

You purse your lips, thinking over your plans for the day so far. “I suppose dull doesn’t work. It hasn’t been dull at all.”

“Oh?”

“I’m only saying it because I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” He murmurs, kissing you once more. “What are you reading?” Anthony asks when he pulls away, spying the book laid delicately on the couch.

“Eloise let me borrow it. She gave me it when I called to see her this morning,” You answer, leaving the comfort of Anthony’s arms to take your seat on the couch.

“Darling, you know we have an entire library full of books, don’t you?”

Fixing him with an unimpressed look, you counter, “Your sister read this and thought of me. The least I could do is read it.”

“Alright,” Anthony sighs, knowing a losing battle when he sees one. “Budge up.”

“Pardon?”

Anthony gestures to the couch. “Make some room for me.”

A puzzled look settles across your face, but you follow the request, nonetheless, shifting on the couch so Anthony has room to sit down.

Anthony settles with his head on your lap; offering you a self-satisfied smile when you raise an eyebrow at him. “Comfy?” You ask, voice laced with humour.

“Very,” He responds. “Will you start from the beginning? I don’t want to miss anything.”

Chuntering about high maintenance husbands, you mark the page you got to before returning to the beginning. “Anything else before I begin?”

“Nothing… Oh, one thing.”

“That is?”

“I love you.”

Any previous ire you felt towards your husband disappears at those three magical words. The frustrated slant to your brow evens out as you reach out to stroke a hand through his hair and down the side of his face.

“I love you too,” You answer earnestly, feeling the power of the emotion running through you.

A peaceful look crosses Anthony’s face as your words sink into his skin like a balm on an open wound. He had felt neglectful lately; not spending as much time at home as he would have liked. He felt bad for leaving you so alone. Without children, you were your own companion throughout the day, and whilst you had both discussed having children, Anthony was to be left mildly vexed at the thought of you spending your days alone until a child was born.

The opening of parliament combined with Anthony’s seat in the House meant that he was spending more and more time in Westminster and less time with you.

A ratio Anthony was not fond of.

“I’m ready when you are,” He whispers; eyes focused on your face so he can watch every reaction and see every syllable leave your mouth.

Flashing an annoyed look at your husband, you take a deep breath and begin:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

“What?” Anthony asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Hush,” You admonish half-heartedly before continuing.

“However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.”

“This author is a genius,” Anthony exclaims, his voice awed as he tries to catch a glimpse of the cover to see the author’s name. “Who wrote this?”

“Are you going to comment the whole way through? I’ve barely read two paragraphs.”

“Sorry, darling, but I have to know. Who wrote this?”

“Her name is Jane Austen.”

“Well Jane Austen is a genius. In two paragraphs she’s captured what it is like to be a single man with a fortune in and amongst the sharks with unattached daughters.”

“Sharks?” You ask, highly amused at your husband’s words.

“Mothers,” Anthony shudders, remembering what it was like to go through so many seasons still unmarried. A Viscount with two seats of power combined with a hefty ancestral fortune – many mothers didn’t care whether Anthony would love their daughters; they simply wanted a fortuitus marriage that would leave them set for life.

Anthony thanks any and all gods and deities out there that he found his love match in you. You had taken him by surprise; Anthony had already resigned himself to a season with countless mothers forcing their daughters onto his arm. Until one evening early into the season, he had been listening to Gregory whine about the workload at Eton when his eyes met yours from across the room. In a total state of cliché, Anthony met your gaze, and he knew. He knew that he was going to spend the rest of his life loving you, worshipping you. He knew that whatever his future held, you would be right there weathering it alongside him. In a single glance from across the room, he knew.

You were married before the season finished; a special licence dispensed after a favour from the Archbishop called in. Anthony couldn’t wait; didn’t want to wait – he wanted to start the rest of his life with you as soon as possible.

Your light laughter breaks Anthony out of his reverie. “They aren’t all that bad,” You argue. “I suspect you’ll be worse than me when it comes to our children.”

Anthony snorts; doubting your words but loving the way you speak so openly about your hopeful future family. Clearing your throat, you continue to read on.

Anthony settles further into your lap; letting the calmness of your voice wash over him. After a moment of watching the concentration on your face, Anthony lets his eyes slip closed. He has no intention of falling asleep; he simply wants to enjoy this moment to its fullest.

“Mr Bingley was good looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women, with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features…”

A snore interrupts your rendition of Pride and Prejudice. Pausing mid-sentence, you look down to your lap where Anthony has fallen asleep so peacefully. Smiling softly at the man, you close the book, placing it to one side before running a hand through Anthony’s ever-unruly hair. He hums contentedly, pushing his head further into your hand as you begin to scratch at his scalp.

As you watch Anthony doze dreamily, you feel your eyes lose the fight against the growing tiredness. Your hand stills in Anthony’s hair as you fall asleep alongside your husband, utterly content at the path your life has taken considering it led you to him.

*****

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @janelongxox​ @aspiringsloth20​ @wallwriterstuff​ @magicalxdaydream​ @darkestbeforethedawn16​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @spideysz​

[suguwu]

suguru who left the sorcerer world but if you know where to find him, still deigns to consult here and there. for a price. except for you, unsteady little thing that you are. you're been walking on the edge for far too long, just one small step away from tumbling down into the jujutsu world's cold depths, where the salt of the bleakness would erode at your very marrow.

he wonders if it would take just a tap.

you come to him reluctantly, and he can practically hear the way your heart skitters into a frenzied pulse when he rises to his feet to greet you with a saccharine smile.

you come to him reluctantly, but you do come.

he makes sure to give you just enough to coax you back to him.

the third time you come to him, you look like a lost little fawn, your eyes shining with the beginning of tears.

the curse is clever, you tell him. it targets non-sorcerers, and leaves only the faintest hint of cursed energy, like perfume fading on the breeze.

he hums. asks questions in a silken voice, watching as it melts through you, until you're unraveling at the edges. you don't blink when he offers you a light meal. he watches as your lips part to eat, a little thread of saliva strung between them, at the very corner of your mouth. you eat without question, and he smiles.

finally, he tells you his thoughts—or at least a version of them—knowing you'll need to use your cursed technique to execute his recommendations.

knowing that it will eat away at you, pare you down into the perfect morsel. your technique has teeth, and it devours you a little more each time.

he thinks he'd like a taste before it swallows you whole.

mel has me thinking about a hannibal au with getou,,,

[sweetyyhippyy]

Versace on the Floor. Spencer Reid x Reader.

(Not my gif.)

Summary: After JJ and Will’s wedding, Spencer is in the mood. Spencer and reader to home and have a romantic night of sex.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Tw: Not for readers under 18! Teasing, heavy making out, mentions of alcohol, fingering, calling Spencer daddy, lots of praising, cream pie, language.

Word count: 3.2k

A.N.: So this is based around the song Versace on the Floor by Bruno Mars. I fee like I’m kinda bad at song based fics but I had to do this 😅 I hope you enjoy!! Italicized and indented lines are the song!

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

Let's take our time tonight, girl Above us all the stars are watchin' There's no place I'd rather be in this world Your eyes are where I'm lost in Underneath the chandelier We're dancin' all alone There's no reason to hide What we're feelin' inside Right now

The team watched, hearts full and smiles on their faces as JJ and Will stood under the beautiful flower altar, exchanging their vows and wedding rings with Henry between them.

Spencer wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body and pressing a kiss to your head. You melt into his side and rest your head on his shoulder, the perfect little shelf for you. You could feel his thumb slowly going back and forth against your side making you shiver and give him a look out of the corner of your eye.

As Will and JJ kiss, everyone claps and cheers, the officiator announcing them officially as husband and wife.

There was a beautiful dinner planned, full of lots of white wine for toasting and drinking, and lots of talking, laughing and good times. The whole dinner, Spencer’s hand never left your thigh, it was completely innocent as far as where his hand was placed, but she knew that he had other intentions deep down.

There was a bit of back and forth teasing while the two of you got ready for the wedding. He knew what seed you were planting when you asked Spencer if he could see any panty lines on your dress, and when he said yes, you slid your panties off immediately, and walked out of the room, making Spencer's head spin. To get his revenge on you in the least obvious way possible, he kept his hands on your waist the entire time you tied his bowtie, giving you a squeeze here and there until you finished. You already had a thing for ties in general, and for some reason it got you going when he let you tie his tie for him.

You held your hand out to Spencer, standing up from your chair. “Come dance with me?”

Spencer smiles up at you and takes your hand, leading to the makeshift dance floor in Rossi’s backyard, the yard lit up by beautiful lantern lights up above them.

You wrap both your arms around his neck, both of you lovingly looking into each other’s eyes as you sway back and forth to the soft music playing in the back.

“You are so beautiful, you know that?” Spencer says warmly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, handsome.” You reply, gingerly kissing his lips.

The hold you two had turned into Spencer hugging you against him tightly, his head resting on your shoulder in turn. It was as if nobody else was around at the moment, in their mind it was just the two of them holding one another in complete bliss.

“You know I only want you, baby? I want you for the rest of my life.” Spencer says in your ear.

You let out a breathy laugh and rub your nails against his back. “You only want me? Forever? Are you sure? Forever is a long time, Spence.”

Spencer lifts his head up and looks into your eyes, his heart fluttering as you stare back at him. “Yes, I have never been so sure about anything.”

“Well I want you forever. If you think you can handle and keep up with me forever.”

Spencer bites his bottom lip to fight the smile threatening to surface. “The real question is whether or not you can handle me forever, pretty girl.”

“Why don’t we find out? You want to get out of here?”

Spencer nods his head and both of you go around the party saying bye to the rest of the team before walking out to their car. Before you get in the car, you feel Spencer come behind you, wrapping himself around your body, dropping his head down to kiss your bare shoulder.

“Starting off with a taste of what I’m going to get tonight?” You remark, your eyes fluttering closed as he continues to pepper your skin with his lips.

“I can’t help it.” He says simply.

“The sooner we get home is the sooner we can play.”

Spencer pulls back from your skin and opens the car door for you, closing it once you settle in the seat.

——————

So baby let's just turn down the lights And close the door Oooh I love that dress But you won't need it anymore No you won't need it no more Let's just kiss 'til we're naked, baby Versace on the floor

Spencer wanted to pounce on you the second you walked through the doorway into the house you two shared, and have his way with you on the couch, the kitchen counter, even on the dining room table. But his hands instead found their way to your hips as you walked through the hallway, pulling your back against his chest, his hands clinging to your body tightly.

“I love you.” He rasps, kissing the spot below your ear.

“I love you more.”

You walk into the bedroom together, Spencer still wrapped around your waist as he kicks the door behind you shut. His fingers find the straps of your dress and pull them down your shoulder, not missing an inch of skin with his lips. Your whole body shivered as you felt the stubble on his face rub against your skin, loving how it scratched against you.

“I do love that dress, and how it looks on your body, pretty girl.” He whispers, his hands raking over your body as he feels your entire torso. “But I think it’ll look even better on the floor.”

You hum in response, reaching your arm up to find his hair and wrap your fingers around the curls. Your whole body was buzzing; from the alcohol you were drinking earlier as well as Spencer’s touch, as the soft kisses continued in the middle of the room, there was nothing that you loved more than how soft Spencer could be with you.

Spencer pulls his head back and ushers you to the bed, instructing you to lay down and wait for him.

You watched as he kicked his shoes off and walked over to the dresser on the other side of the room, pulling the lighter out and lighting the plethora of candles you had one by one. The dark room lit up dimly as Spencer strategically placed the candles on both sides of their bedside tables. You smile as Spencer walks back to the bed, crawling up to you and dropping his head down to kiss your lips again.

Both of you were rolling around the bed, making out, heavily with one another. You managed to wrap your legs around Spencer’s waist, bringing him closer to you as he started to press his crotch against you, feeling how painfully hard he already was.

“I want you so bad, pretty girl.” Spencer whispers.

“I want you too, but I really want you naked. Sit up, babe.” You say, unraveling your legs from him.

He quickly gets up, watching as you pull at his bow tie and throw it off to the side of the bed. You slowly undo his buttons, your eyes not detouring from his. Once you reach the last button, you tug the white button up shirt up out of his pants and throw it out of the way too, leaving him in just his pants.

“You are so handsome, Spencer. I can’t believe you love me.” You praise, touching his body lightly.

“I should be the one saying that I can’t believe you love me. I’m so lucky.” His eyes were soft as he looked down at you. “Tonight is going to be about you, okay? I’m going to take care of you.”

You nod your head and pull him back down to kiss you. You two could have gladly kissed all night, but it was inevitable that with all of the touching and the clothes coming off that things were going to get hot and heavy.

———————

Oooh take it off for me, for me, for me, for me now, girl I unzip the back to watch it fall While I kiss your neck and shoulders

“Sit on the edge of the bed.” You instruct, rolling off the bed.

Spencer follows your directions happily, sitting right at the edge of the bed and glues his eyes on you as you hook your phone up to the speaker and start a playlist you and Spencer had come up with for sexy time. He couldn’t help but take his cock in his hand and begin to stoke it as you took your hair down out of its bun and let your hair fall down your back and scratch your scalp softly.

You finally walk over to Spencer, putting both of your hands on his thighs and pressing a light kiss to his lips. “You want me to strip for you?” You ask, making soft eyes at him.

Spencer nods his head quickly, licking his lips. His mind was mush, there was no way he could form actual, coherent words. His IQ was no longer 187, he was lucky if it was at 18 at this moment. You two had been a couple for 5 years and it still made him giddy to see you naked.

You smile at him before you turn around, swaying your hips to the beat of the music playing in the back, dropping down low into Spencer’s bare lap and teasing his throbbing cock by slowly grazing over it with your ass.

Spencer had never been more focused on anything in his life as hard as he was focused on your whole body. He watched the way you pushed your hair to one side of your shoulder and turned your head back to look at him as you danced. You were mouthing the words to the song with a sexy smile on your face. Your eyes were soft and innocent, but he could almost see the fire deep in them; the same fire that was in them every time you two got hot and heavy.

Spencer’s hands travel up your back, taking the zipper and pulling it down slowly as you grind against his lap. Once he hits the base of the zipper he slides the top down your chest and stops at your stomach. “Stand up, sweetheart.”

You stand up, your back still turned to him. Spencer helps you slide the dress off your torso and lets it fall and pool at your feet. Immediately his lips ghost against your neck, biting softly at the skin as he travels to your shoulder, his thumb stroking the other side. His hand cups one of your breasts, stroking your nipple to make it hard.

You giggle as his fingers continue to play with your nipple, your eyes fluttering closed. “That feels good.” You hum.

“You know what’ll feel even better?” Spencer whispers in your ear, pressing one more kiss to your cheek. His fingertips drag down your bare stomach, slowly trailing down to your pussy, not yet touching your clit but rubbing the skin just above it.

“Spence.” You whine, melting into his body. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” He responds, sliding his fingers into your folds and massaging your clit slowly.  

“Fuck.” You shakily moan, gripping his arm and digging your nails into his skin. “That feels so fucking good.”

“Do you want me to make you cum, pretty girl? You want daddy to make you cum?”

You moan at the bedroom name, nodding your head in response. “Yes. Yes, keep touching me, make me cum, daddy.” You emphasize the name, moaning it out loudly.

“You want to marry me? You love me that much to spend the rest of your life with me? Be my wife?”

You didn’t know where this was coming from, and maybe it was the endorphins swimming around in your head from all the touch, or maybe it was the wine, but the thought sounded nice. “And if I do?” You respond.

“I will propose to you right now, y/n.”

You were in pure ecstasy as Spencer’s pace picked up on your clit, the sound of how wet you were against his fingers filled the room and was beyond obscene. The knot in your stomach tightened as you felt your pussy clench harshly, you were close and Spencer showed no signs of mercy.

“Spence, I’m going to cum.” You whimper, grinding your core against him to get more friction. “I’m going to cum.” You repeat.

“Go ahead, pretty girl. Cum on my fingers.”

With a few more circles around your clit, your body explodes, loud pleasurable moans falling from your mouth as you try to stay up against Spencer. You whine his name repeatedly, incoherently spouting “I love yous” as you come down from your high.

Spencer’s circles around your clit become lighter and more lazy as he feels you relax against him. “That’s my girl.” Spencer coos, kissing your cheek. “On the bed.”

———————-

No don't be afraid to show it off I'll be right here ready to hold you Girl you know you're perfect from Your head down to your heels

You watch as he pumps his cock a few times before throwing your legs up onto his shoulders. You take the shaft of his cock into your hand and rub it against your clit, both of you moaning in unison.

“Spence.” You breathe out, running your free hand up his arm and over his bare chest, running your fingertips down to his stomach. “Baby I love you.”

He drops his head down, kissing your bare skin, holding your hips firmly and worshipping your body. “You are so perfect, sweetheart. Every single inch of you is flawless.” Spencer coos.

“Fuck me, Spencer, please.” You beg, you couldn’t take the teasing anymore, you needed him.

Spencer finally slides into you, taking a minute to gather his thoughts as he feels how soft and wet you were for him. He lays on top of you, thrusting in a staggered pace. He puts his arm under you, holding you close to his chest as he rutt into you harshly, finding a good pace once the clouds dispersed in his brain.

Your hand finds their way to his curls, holding his head close to your neck. The way his breath felt against your skin sent shivers down your spine. And his choked back moans sounded like music to your ears. You wanted this moment to last forever, you wanted to last forever with Spencer.

Spencer sits up onto his knees, not daring to pull out of you as he settles, pushing your legs back against you, gripping your thigh tightly. “You want to be mine?” Spencer asks, his eyes focused on hours.

“I already am yours, Spencer. I’m your girl.” You sputter out.

“You know what I mean, pretty girl.”

“Spencer Reid, I know you’re not proposing to me while you are fucking me.” You tease, giving him a laugh.

Spencer smiles down at you, licking his bottom lip. “No never.” He remarks. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing it slowly.  

——————

Can you feel it, baby? It's warmin' up Oh, seems like you're ready for more, more, more Let's just kiss 'til we're naked Versace on the floor

Your head rolls back on the pillow as you feel your walls flood around his cock. “Fuck daddy, that feels so… fucking good, please don’t stop.” You plead, taking his free hand and leading it to your throat. Even though you two were having a change of pace with slow romantic sex, you still needed a bit of roughness in the mix.

Spencer’s hand clenches around your throat softly, watching as you open your mouth slightly and gasp at the feeling.

“Harder, it’s okay.” You moan.

Spencer obliges, applying more pressure to your neck and to your clit. You were a mess underneath him, eyes rolled back in your head and loud whimpering moans filling the room along with his skin slapping against yours.

“You’re going to make me cum again.” You pant out, sinking your nails into his thigh. “I want to-fuck-cum on your cock, daddy, I want you to feel it.”

“Yeah, pretty girl, yeah cum on my cock. I love how it feels when you clench around me.”

All it takes is a few more thrusts before you fall apart under him, whimpering as Spencer still was rubbing your now sensitive clit, making you jump at the sensitivity. Spencer lets go of your throat and lightly rubs it.

“You’re so pretty when you cum, sweetheart.” Spencer grunts, feeling how well you clenched around his cock and how sexy his name sounded as you moaned it out. He could feel his own end coming close. His mind raced as he tried to fight his orgasm back, trying to last a little longer for you, but he was too far gone.

You watched as Spencer’s face softened, his eyes screwed shut and his mouth falling open as he ruts into you harder. “Cum in me, daddy please. I want it in me, fuck please.” You beg, wrapping your legs back around him.

Spencer drops his body onto yours, his head settling in between your shoulder and neck, he was just as much a mess as you were moments ago. He kisses your skin again as you feel him spill into you, letting out a throaty grunt.

Both of you lay there, drunk on each other still. You rub his back that was slightly coated in sweat, waiting for him to come back to life.

“Baby, are you alive?” You poke, combing his hair back on his head.

Spencer laughs and picks his head up resting it on your forehead. “I’m good. Are you?”

You kiss his lips and nod your head. “I’m very good. Let’s get cleaned up, we need our cuddles.”

You both head to the bathroom to clean up, Spencer still being very touchy, feely with you as you washed your face after using the bathroom. You stare back at him through the mirror with a smile on your face.

Spencer chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “What?”

“Ask me.”

Spencer cocks his head to the side, much like a puppy, and gives you a confused look.

“Ask you?”

You nod your head and turn around. “Ask me what you wanted to ask me while we were having sex… unless you didn’t mean it.”

“No, no, no, baby I-I meant it. I was just confused. Just, hold on. Wait here.” Spencer leaves the bathroom and walks back to the bedroom.

You don’t listen to him and follow him out to the bedroom, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear and a big shirt and slipping it on your body.

Spencer pops out of the closet with something in his hand. “I thought I told you to stay?” Cocking his eyebrow at you.

You grin and sit on the bed. “You know I’m not a very good listener.”

Spencer walks over with a smile on his face, sitting on the edge of the bed near you. “I love you with my whole heart, y/n. And I want to be with you for the rest of my life, maybe even longer. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life, sweetheart. Will you marry me?” Spencer opens the velvet box revealing a ring.

“Wait, did you have this ring the whole time?” You ask.

“I’ve had it for about a month. I’ve been trying to find the right time to do it. But then the case ran so long and I forgot the box here. I didn’t think I would be proposing to you after sex but here we are.” He laughs. “So will you?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” You whisper, kissing his lips deeply.

Spencer smiles at you, removing the ring from the box and slipping it on your ring finger. “It looks good.”

“You know, we need to celebrate the fact that we’re engaged.” You smile deviously at him.

“You can go again?” Spencer asks in disbelief.

“Get a girlfriend with a high sex drive, they said.” You say, crawling up into his lap and straddling him. “It’ll be so much fun, they said.” You tease, kissing him again. 

[hongjoongsforehead]

mommy’s slut

sub!oikawa dom!(f)reader

warnings: mommy kink, choking, omorashi, dacriphilia, spanking, overstimulation, implied oral(f receiving), degradation, dumbification if you squint, slight praise

oikawa knew he was fucked. literally. he had been teasing you all day. constantly slapping your ass while you guys were out for lunch with his team, grinding on you, kissing your neck, trying to get a rise out of you.

but this. this was your breaking point. you were sitting with the rest of his team, not really listening to their conversation but out of nowhere you hear oikawa say

“i’m obviously the dom in the relationship...”

hearing these words made your head perk up from your phone, you glare at oikawa a silent way of telling him to watch it. he looks back at you for a split second before going right back to the conversation.

“oikawa, watch it”

you gave him another warning but he still wanted to act out and make you seems like a sub.

“y/n i don’t know what you mean, i’m obviously the dom here little cutie”

the rest of his team was laughing at you which only added fuel to the fire that was burning inside of you. without thinking you walked up to oikawa and grabbed his throat barely applying pressure.

“ahh- y/n w-what are you doing?” he gasped

“tell them.” you replied

“tell them what?”

“tell them how much of a little slut you are for me oikawa.” you ordered.

oikawa struggled to release your grip from his throat but that only made you tighten it more.

“ah o-okay fine...i’m your slut y/n” he finally admitted.

you released this throat and he panted, gasping for air. everyone was now looking at you while you gathered your things getting ready to leave iwaizumis house.

they all had their mouths wide open, eyes popped out not expecting to see such a side of you.

“oikawa get your things and get ready to leave.” you told him, he instantly followed your orders.

“bye boys, we will see you next time.”

they all responded with a variation of ‘goodbye.’ although before you could leave the house iwaizumi stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“y/n, please don’t hurt him too bad, we still have practice tomorrow.” he asks.

“i’ll see what i can do iwa.” you responded nonchalantly.

getting to your car, you turn it on and begin to leave iwaizumis house. the ride back was filled with an uncomfortable silence and every now and then you could see oikawa shift in his seat. stopping at a red light you decide that you want to play with your toy for a little bit.

“when we get home you’re going to go upstairs strip and wait patiently until i get there with you. got it?” you ask

“yes” he responds, barely a whisper

“yes who oikawa?”

“y-yes mommy.”

“good boy.”

once the light turns green you begin driving again, looking over at him every now and then only to see him shifting around him his seat.

you finally arrived at your house, you and oikawa were just sitting in silence when you finally decided to break it.

“go do as i told before your punishment is worse.”

hearing this oikawa got out of the car and rushed into the house looking down the whole time.

after about ten minutes you decide that it’s been long enough, so you get out the car and head towards the door. opening it you walk into the kitchen to grab a glass of water when you get an idea. smirking to yourself you refill yours and grabbing another glass of water before walking to your shared bedroom. opening the door you see oikawa sitting on the bed naked and hard, waiting patiently for instruction.

you hand him one of the glasses to which he looks up at you in confusion.

“what am i supposed to do with this mommy?”

“drink it honey.” you reply as if it’s the most obvious thing ever

“but i’m not thirsty mommy...”

“i don’t remember asking all of that my love.”

oikawa looks at you for a little longer before finally decided to follow your orders of drinking the water. he drink about half before handing it back to you, which you deny. you shake your head at him and signal for him to finish the cup. of course he doesn’t know why, but you grabbed one of the largest cups that you had in the kitchen. you were absolutely determined to break him beyond return tonight.

once he finishes the first glass of water you hand him the other, which he didn’t like.

“mommy i’m too full, do i have to drink more?”

he was getting whiny which you knew meant that it wouldn’t take long for him to fully submit to you. without a second thought you bring the cup to his mouth and made him drink, only a little bit spilling past his lips.

once the glass was empty you decided it was time to put your plan into action. you sit down next to oikawa on the bed and instruct him to lay over your lap.

“you get fifteen spanks for embarrassing and teasing me all day. do you remember your safe word baby?”

“yes mommy, i remember.”

“what is it baby?”

“p-panda.”

“good boy. now you’re going to take your spanks like a good slut and maybe i’ll give a reward.” you told him. you knew that he would be expecting the first hit so you waited a couple minutes before spanking him.

you landed hit after hit on him, with him counting after each one. once you got to fifteen oikawa was sobbing and gripping the bed sheets like his life depended on it.

“are you okay baby? do you need to use your safeword?” you asked because he looked utterly wrecked.

he frantically shook his head no before trying to speak up before realizing that he couldn’t. he put his head back down in embarrassment before trying to speak again with no luck.

you pull him up by his hair making him look at you in the eyes and the sight you saw was enough to have you dripping. his cheeks were stained with tears, his hair was dripping with sweat that would eventually drop onto his face, his tongue was hanging out his mouth causing drool to fall down his chin.

“my pretty baby…looking so wrecked for mommy.” oikawa whined at your words and tried to squirm out of your grip which you didn’t allow.

“you’re embarrassing me mama.” oikawa wouldn’t stop wriggling i’m your grasp until you flipped him over on the bed and held his legs open. you decided that now would be a good time to execute your plan. you place one of your hands on this abdomen above his bladder before applying pressure.

you knew that as soon as you applied the pressure to his stomach oikawa was reminded of the fact that he did in fact have to pee which caused him to fold in on himself and moan loudly. a fter a few seconds went by he unraveled his body and layed back flat on the bed. you moved your hand back down to his throbbing cock and gave him a few slow strokes which had his thighs shaking.

after letting go of his cock you led your hand back up to his bladder area. before pressing down and massaging the area. oikawa was soon letting out loud moans and whimpers at the overwhelming feeling.

“m-mama please…”he was squirming trying to get away from your hands, not wanting to make a mess everywhere.

“please what baby? what does my little whore want from his mommy?” you honestly didn’t know how you were holding yourself together because oikawa was so hot when he begged.

“w-wan’ c-cum first mama. please let me cum mama please.” oikawa was practically sobbing once again, probably harder than before.

“okay slut how do you want mommy to make you cum?” you decided that he’s been through enough teasing and you should finally fulfill his wishes.

“want your hands, m-mouth, anything please just make me cum mommy!” you could tell that he was starting to get bratty again so you decided to take initiative.

you grab oikawa s cock and start stroking him at a fast pace that has him gasping for air. you knew after all this teasing he wouldn’t last long at all, so you leaned your head down to his cock, licking the tip before taking him halfway.

the moans oikawa let out we’re going straight to your core making you want to just forget all about this and fuck your baby until all the both of you saw were stars, but then you remember that you’re supposed to be proving a point so you get back to doing what you were doing, making your baby feel good.

“m-mommy gon’ cum! please let me cum mommy. i’m so close…please!” you pulled off of him but continued to stroke him at a fast pace once again before leaning to his ear and whispering.

“go ahead baby, go ahead and cum for mommy.” and almost as if on command oikawa was cumming all over himself and your hand. he was letting out the most pornographic moans that sounded almost like screams but turned you on nonetheless. his moans consisted of nothing less than screams and chants of ‘mommy’ or ‘feels so good’

you stroked oikawa all the way through his orgasm until he was practically shaking in overstimulation, letting more tears fall at how good all of it felt.

once oikawa came down from his high he noticed that your hand returned back to his stomach over his abdomen when he remembered that he had to pee really badly. and if there’s one thing you know, it’s that you can’t piss and cum at the same time so once one of those things is out the way the other would come rushing to you faster than you’d think.

oikawa was once again whining and squirming in your grip again trying to get your hand off him.

“baby if you want me to stop at all just say so. but if not let me know now because i’m not gonna hold back” you wanted to make sure that he knew that he wasn’t being forced into anything and if he wanted to stop you would be completely okay with that.

oikawa nodded at your words and you let him off the hook with a non verbal answer since he is still kind of dazed from him previous orgasm.

you begin to stroke his cock again while simultaneously pressing on his bladder area knowing that you’ll get the outcome that you are looking for.

you knew it shouldn’t take long because you know oikawa was already close to pissing himself earlier. as you were stimulating these two places on his body he began to shake some more while trying to close his legs together to keep from peeing everywhere.

you forced his legs open again while applying more pressure to the areas before looking up at oikawas face. he was crying again and biting his lip to try to keep his moans and whimpers low.

“m-mama..”

“yes baby? what is it?” you faked innocence.

“gotta pee mama.” you were cooing at him at this point because he was just so cute, your cute little whore.

“go ahead baby, make another mess for mama.” with that oikawa was doing as told, making a mess of the sheets, himself, and you. moaning the whole time because he finally got the release he was wanting.

once he was finished you quickly got up to go get a towel and some clean clothes to put him in. you got oikawa up and led him to the bathroom to run him a bath.

setting him into the water you let him wash up and relax his muscles for a bit while you go change the sheets, putting the dirty ones in the washing machine.

heading back in the bathroom after hearing oikawa call out for you, you see your baby drying himself off which makes you remember that you never actually got to cum.

thinking nothing of it and just planning to get off with a vibrator once oikawa fell asleep you help him into his clothes before going back into your shared room with him.

getting under the new covers oikawa cuddles up to your body and you press a kiss to his forehead before pressing one to his lips.

you and oikawa indulge in light conversation, mostly oikawa apologizing for acting like a brat earlier and you forgiving him when he realizes that you’ve been rubbing your thighs together about the whole conversation.

he then remembers that you didn’t get to cum during your scene with him. feeling bad he lifts the covers off of your bodies before going between your legs and pulling down your pants and panties.

“what are you doing baby?” you had to ask because you were genuinely confused. had he picked up on how needy you were acting?

“mommy didn’t get to cum, wan’ make mommy cum. please mommy?” he gives you puppy eyes which he knows you can’t resist.

nodding while speaking you say, “go ahead baby, make mommy feel good.” and that was all the confirmation that oikawa needed before going down on your still dripping folds, eating you out in the best way he knew how.

this took way longer than i anticipated because i simply lost motivation everytime i started writing again but here it is! my sub oikawa fanfiction :)

[godstrayed]

Of course, Billy is saying more than he’d like. Maybe just to stress the fact Steve really ought to be fucking careful if he wanted to live to see another day. He internally cringes when Steve mentions the fight ‘cause he really didn’t have to hit him that hard. The past was the past and Billy could attempt to rectify things by helping keep him alive, since it had never been personal. Steve had been standing in lieu of what Billy really wanted to hit. Sure was fuck wasn’t fair but the damage was already done.

There was one thing that was apparent: Steve was really bitchy. Ready to bite back any remark Billy made. It’s a little encouraging, like maybe if things go bad and Steve does end up in some trouble he wouldn’t just take it lying down, he would fight back. But the thought of some kids getting tangled up in this really made Billy uneasy. That was a bridge he’d cross when it came down to it. Or hope that somehow they combined could outsmart freaky little genius children.

Of course, Steve is figuring out more than Billy wants. He eases in his seat, blue eyes dodgy, and he ponders how much he can tell him. Given everything he was probably already fucked for just offering his help to the ‘enemy’─breaking at least a dozen of the rules but the most important one had always been keeping their secret. If Billy is found out of having done this much already he probably couldn’t go back unscathed. He doesn’t even know what the punishment would be since it was unprecedented. If he wasn’t killed, he’d imagine he would beat til he wished he was. Would it really do any harm to tell Steve the entire truth? He was bound to find out on his own anyways.

“Just listen,”

Would Steve even believe him? Would he even trust him after telling him? ‘Cause it didn’t make sense for Billy to help him without gaining anything in return. Could he just say it was because he knew it was the right thing to do when Billy has a track record of not giving a fuck about what’s right or wrong up until that point? Could Steve be convinced Billy suddenly was turning over a new leaf? 

Fuck it all to hell, he was already fucked. His fingers pick at the loose threads in his jeans juggling around a few ways of trying to explain it. Steve might be able to unravel any bullshit he tried to sprinkle in. 

“We cannot be seen together because I am always being watched in public. Certain people would go runnin’ straight to my dad if they saw us together ‘cause it’s against the rules. We aren’t supposed to speak with any outsiders but your type especially. You are meant to be the enemy even through you don’t know jack shit and probably more like a scruffy lost puppy than a fucking werewolf.”

He takes a long breath and his eyes finally meet Steve’s once more. He had to believe him, right? There were a lot more strange things going on in Hawkins right now that Steve was aware of than a cult forming and trying to eliminate all non-human threats. “My family─not just my family but the whole little community Neil has convinced to follow him─they know about werewolves, monsters, and all that shit. They know ‘cause they been huntin’ them down for as long as I could remember. They know how to kill you. They are brainwashed and tough as shit, don’t trust anyone and aren’t going to ask you if you have good intentions or not.”

Billy pauses some as he picks harder at his jeans, “If they get any sniff that something funny is going on they’re gonna find you and systematically take you out. They’re just people─but with enough people who know your vulnerabilities it’s dangerous even for you. And Max is good, she’s just a kid. Pulled in by her mother. She just gets too much of Neil’s attention since she can’t fuckin’ keep her head down. Just can’t get seen with me, alright? I can make an excuse here or there but they would look too closely at shit if it was reoccurring.”

ㅤBilly definitely hadn't thought this through, because Steve was staring at him with this considering look, trying to work out the things the other wasn't saying. Hargrove was actually saying plenty, starting with laying into him about being stupid and how he must have wanted to die, which made Steve roll his eyes, but that wasn't all. He'd chew it over.

ㅤ"No, I didn't want to die, and I sure as hell didn't want to get beat into Mrs. Byers' living room floor before dealing with a bunch of werewolves, but I did what I had to. I dodged around them just fine before you came along," he snapped, and while he didn't know for sure that he'd have escaped unscathed if Billy hadn't beaten the shit out of him at the Byers', he knew that his performance earlier in the evening had been encouraging. Was that why Hargrove was there, trying to help him? Guilt for beating on him that night?

ㅤIt would make more sense, but he wasn't so sure that was it. Hargrove didn't seem to have realized that was the night he was infected, so it probably wasn't guilt for that motivating him. What, then? The attitude wasn't helping, either, so Steve scoffed at 'mommy and daddy', like that was even a concern. "My mom and dad aren't around enough to figure anything out, but I hate to tell you, those 'dweeby snot-nosed ass kids'? They're smarter than both of us and I don't have to tell them anything, they'll work it out on their own," he said, laughing a little bitterly over it. It was true, which meant that he'd keep his own secret as long as he could, but they'd get there eventually.

ㅤIn fairness, he was pretty sure the kids would also keep the secret if they didn't try to act on it immediately - namely if they didn't think he was a monster who had to be stopped or contained. It was just their initial, kneejerk reaction that he was worried about. That, and Hopper.

ㅤHe couldn't help looking a little skeptical about the 'ally' he supposedly had in Billy, especially when Hargrove started describing public appearances, like he had to hide the fact that they were getting along. "Why would I have to act like I hate you?" he asked, leaning forward a little and really watching him, brows knit. "Weirder shit happens in school than two guys fighting and then being friends after, so what are you so worried about? If we're keeping my wolf thing a secret, you don't really have any reason to not want to be seen with me."

ㅤBeing told that he fights like shit and that was part of why he needed Hargrove rankled a little, but what did Billy know? It wasn't like Steve was going to fight with him they way he'd fought werewolves the same day - the stakes hadn't been the same and couldn't be. "I don't get how you know so much about what's out there, but unless you're talking about people, I'm pretty good at taking care of myself. I just told you I fought werewolves with a couple of kids after fighting you, and that was before I was one."

ㅤThere was the main point, though - unless Hargrove was talking about people.

ㅤSteve was confident about monsters. He wasn't about to say that he could take on anything, but he was more durable, stronger, faster, more dangerous now than he'd been before, and he'd fought monsters then. It was people that he didn't want to hurt, people that he was avoiding in the woods, but something was out there doing it. He could run away from sounds and smells of humans every full moon, but he wasn't the only monster out there, was he?

ㅤHe also didn't get the impression that Billy was suggesting a monster would try to corner him alone somewhere if he wasn't in fur, which brought him back around to people. "You are talking about people, aren't you? I avoid human sounds and smells on the moon nights, but you're warning me not to get cornered or go places alone during the day. Who would try to catch me alone in daylight?"