#head shapes are whack

[v-albion]

Canon style?

Masterpost

[oneleggedgiraffe]

girls when they can explode

[averlym]

miscellany (again),, tags in the last image by @pyrotechnicarus

[see-arcane]

I was watching a rant video about a truly awful (but popular on tiktok) Dark Romance hockey novel series, and they said "by USA Today & Amazon bestselling author C.R. Jane" and I had to do a double take at the name 💀

Stay tuned for my next story in which I force every public domain horror story's cast onto the ice where they alternate between bloodshed, scoring points, and scoring each other xxxooo

[invinciblerodent]

yeah, it was very much in-character for my guy to solve the issue of the Phase Spider Queen and her babies crowding him (and Shadowheart) on one of the web-bridges by throwing an Alchemist's Fire grenade at his own feet

gotta say, very On Brand for him to set the webs on fire, incinerate the babies, plummet like 20 feet straight down onto the stone (which killed the mother and Shadowheart), and be the only one to survive the fall, ending combat with Gale and Karlach overlooking the carnage from above and him with like 2 HP.

this is the kind of cringy failure I was hoping for. this "if it looks stupid but works, it's not stupid" approach, the complete "fucking YOLO" type of disregard for everyone's (but especially his own) health and safety that I WANTED to play!! FINALLY we're not unsettlingly competent!!!!!!

[murasakiirohanaarchived]

@fuchsiafortified liked this

Here you go~

[screampied]

‘ DEATH BY SÉX! 𝜗𝜚

𓉸ྀི sum. his fatal cause of death? op – overly pussydrunk. the prime suspect? located right between your pretty legs. toji, sukuna, nanami, gojo, choso, geto.

warnings. fem! reader, very pússydrunk men, unprotected, cunnīlingus, messy eaters, nīpple play, ab riding, sukuna kinda lactates, dry humping, sqúirting, overstim, spīt, dirty talk, praise, p spanking, fīngering, breedīng mentions, petnames.

an. when you realize everyone here's actually d-

☆ GOJO SATORU.

pronounced dead the minute he goes inside.

satoru grunts, glassy eyes widening as he’s watching his reddened swollen tip disappear between your slick entrance. panting out soft whispering ‘hooooly shit’ ‘s and ‘fuck’ ‘s, you could already tell he’s done for. he’s been inside of you more times than you could count—but it’s like every time is the first time. riding the satoru gojo was a fatality in itself. anytime you ride him he’s weak, and he’s even weaker once you’re staring him dead in the eyes—luxuriating in his lewd contorting facial expressions. it was just the way his crystalline-colored eyes would criss ‘n cross, rolling waaaay back into the dark voids of his head each time he cums inside. satoru always loses it whenever you fuck him, scraping your frantic hips against his and quite literally fucking the brat out of him. “yeah, fuck me. don’t stop baby, don’t—fuckin’—stopp, and he glues his palms against both sides of your waist. your knees rest against his bulky thighs as you’re jerking back ‘n forth, watching his jaw go slack whilst his glossed lips part into a wheezing ‘o.’

and at that moment, he knew he was pussy drunk.

the bed creaks beneath you both. it’s creaks sounded more like groans, and the entire wooden headboard was practically about to split in half.

“mhm, eyes on me ‘toru,” you remind him, glancing at his icy blue eyes that wandered every direction but your face. that was always a habit of his. whenever you rode him, sometimes he’d stare off to the side . . or the ceiling . . or his favorite place, your bouncy tits. “not there, baby,” you tilt his chin up, watching the pout gloss across his lips. satoru claws a hand at your hip, grunting as your cunt sucks him in wholly. every time—you had quite the grip on him, and it’s enough to make him his blushing tip smear across your insides. you moan, feeling the hooked curve of his cock expand through your walls, zigzagging its way through your pasty entrance. “fuck, ‘toru. close again, yeah?”

“m- mhm,” he inhales, gnawing at the bars of his inclosure. your hips were killer . . and every single time - he falls in love with how greedy you slam back and forth against him. rutting hips of yours constantly clashing further into him before a hand wraps around his throat. satoru’s snowy lashes flutter as he glances at you, moaning once you give his neck a slight squeeze. “heh, kinky today, are we angel? usually i’m the one who does the choki—fuuck,” he croaks mid sentence. your squeeze around his throat tightens just a bit, not too much. it’s the right amount of pressure that makes his dick twitch inside of you, and you feel the sporadic pulse instantly. satoru starts to pant, and as your cunt’s still freely constricting around his lanky fat length, his head leans back. “goddd, such a naughty girl. you get y’r cockiness from me that’s for sure.”

“do i?” you purr, leaning in to lick a slope down his neck. satoru moans, and a barred palm of his creeps down toward the fat near heart-shaped juncture of your ass. with a stinging whack, he smacks your rear as you rut into him at a much more quicker pace. with the way your hips rolled, you were gonna hypnotize him with your pussy. you’ve still got dried splotches of cum sticking at your sides before his lips start to quiver in impatient frolic. “baby, open your mouth,” you hum, a sudden idea popping into your head.

working even thinking, the white haired man pries open his mouth before looking at you with low hooded, pussy drunk eyes. “ ‘kay,” he replies submissively, heaving each drawn out breath through his full lungs. satoru’s cock plugs you in snug ‘n fully, and each time you slam your flooding wet cunt against his lap—he’d get whiplash. “what, do i stick out my tongue too or . .” and he pauses, cocky grin fading, and within seconds—he’s growing sheepish once he sees you smugly grinning. “oh.. you’re serious, okay!”

satoru lolls out his pink clean tongue, singing out a playful ‘ahhh’ before that’s when you spit directly in his mouth. he blinks thrice, and instinctively, he swallows. after he savors your taste, a slutty moan leaves from the back of his throat as he’s squeezing your ass. “fuck, do that shit again.”

“yeahhh, more?” you whisper, wiping a thumb across his slick pursed lips. satoru broke a cold sweat, and the more you touched him—the more he started to pant like a dog. his dick ached inside of you, and every time you clamp down on him he lets out a sharp hiss. compressing his lips together again, you give him a quick chaste kiss before purring haughtily. “say ‘pretty please’.”

satoru pouts before sighing with a grousing grumble. his ego was nearly massacred, but he wanted more . . and he wanted you. “pretty . . please,” and he brings a hand toward your right breast, stroking a thumb against your nipple. satoru watches you writhe with his dick still tucked inside before his smugness shortly returns.

“spit in my mouth again,” and satoru, with his lopsided cunt-drunk grin, he puffs his lip out, giving your ass it’s final playful spank. “mommy.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

toji fushiguro’s an absolute animal whenever it comes to your pussy. straight up, and he might as well change his tittle to the ‘pussy killer.’

he practically lived between your thighs, and fuck could he eat. it doesn’t take toji long at all to get pussy drunk either—in fact, all he even has to do is just smear the buttony tip of his nose down your sopping wet clit, getting a nice whiff.

your scent – it was so strong that without even using his tongue yet, he could already taste you. his tastebuds were salivating… and with you lying pretty, legs sprawled and all, you really brought out the beast out in him. you meet his feral entranced gaze and toji’s heavily panting—already starting to drool from the cracked crevices of his lips just at staring at your cunt.

and all you knew was . .

he’s hungry, and you made him this way.

“f- fuuuck, toji,” you’d croon out a whine, wiggling your hips before he pulls your jittery legs apart from each other. your legs stuck together with such gluey sapping slick that it was cute—you felt hot the more he started to bring his face towards your teary entrance. “n-ngh,” a soft grunt leaves from you as you felt his cold stare intently focus on your poor weeping folds.

one of toji’s favorite things to do though, was to eat you out.. right after he came inside . . and oh, it was the prettiest sight he could ever see.

as toji swiftly goads a plump thumb up to your tender labia, he watches as the mess start to stream out of you – all at once.

you were putting mere waterfalls to shame with how wet you were, just profusely sopping. as he continues to have an eye contest with your sweet drenched folds for a long amount of seconds—toji finally closes the distance, leaning in and sloppily pressing a kiss your pussy.

immediately, he hears the cute ‘psssh’ ‘s your entrance makes and he darkly chuckles once he feels lustrous strings tear away from your entrance, landing onto his mouth. toji didn’t care that he was tasting himself—a sweet.. filthy mixture of you and him that’s now shamelessly coating his scarred, wry lips.

there’s a faint tang of bitterness as he starts to dip his tongue in ‘n out of your cunt—but again, he’s nasty – he’s dirty and your cunt made him even dirtier. toji made sure to thoroughly drag his tongue through every crevice, lapping up the wads of runny cum that was trying to glissade down your puffed pussy. he’s crazy, grabbing ahold of rickety unstable your hips with two bare hands. shaking his head side to side like a madman.

“toji… fuck, you’re s-so nasty,” you moan, fishing a hand through his rumpled overgrown tresses. toji groans once you give his hair a solid pull, yanking him forward. his entire face was stuffed against your pussy—and honestly, to him.. this wouldn’t be a bad way to go out.

death by pussy.

toji found it cute how you could never stay still, his tongue was that much, and you let off a sweet dragging yelp once the tip of his tongue greets itself against your pretty throbbing g-spot. “fuckkk!”

“nasty just for you, babygirl,” he hoarsely whispers against your folds. hitched hot breath waves into your entrance and you were already starting to arch toward. breathy, labored breaths of yours started to grow more ‘n more irregular as he continued eating you out. after every toe-curling movement from his tongue alone—toji moves even closer, lolling out the entirety of his long flat tongue to get an extra good enough taste. he was greedy.

verdant eyes meet yours as he creates a slow sloppy trail, starting at your fluttering hole allllll the way until he’s guiding his tongue to lick in between your slit. toji thinks it’s cute how you’re throbbing in his mouth – pulsating on his tastebuds the entire time—pulse after fuckin’ pulse. you let off a cute ‘ah!’ as you’re just shoving his head against your face and he snickers.

toji slurps you clean, creating such lewd noises from his mouth before meanly spanking your cunt, staring it dead in the entrance. “she’s my favorite girl, always” and he hums. “ ‘s funny though. she’s just like you,” and you whimper once his palm swats against your pudgy folds again, squelches getting louder. “she talks back exactly just like you, baby. wet with a smart mouth.”

your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest as you watch with glossy-doe eyes whilst toji plays between your legs. each convulsion gets stronger… and by now, you started to feel yourself short-circuiting. you were so tender, and toji loved more than anything to spank your cunt raw, kiss it, rub it—then spank it again. a feral cycle.

right then, that’s when he snakes two thick fingers inside of your cunt, watching his fingertips slowly disappear. soft shrilling moans drag from your vocal chords before he licks the remnants of his cum from your pussy before a breathy ‘heh’ fans against your clit. “god, she’s fuckin’ nasty today. no manners just like her pretty owner,” and toji pulls his fingers out, licking them before spanking your cunt again with a free hand. “oooh,” he jibes, pointed ears perking at the cute popping slosh. you’re so wet—so so wet and he only wanted more. as his hand continued to smack against your folds, a few droplets of your sheeny juices splat right near the corner of his mouth. a few millimeters away from his slashing scar near his lip. toji happily licks himself clean with his eager tongue, giving your pretty pussy another spank, and another, and a-fuckin’-nother. .

the room’s filled with nothing but loud spanks of his hand going against your cunt—you moan ‘n whimper everytime, the brief occasional sting from the palm of his hand leaving a sweet dirty taste in your mouth. at his next spank, toji hears you moan out a pretty ‘oooh’ of your own and he looks up at you.

“yeah, girl? like that one, huh? fuck, can’t tell who’s nastier,” and he spits on your cunt before lapping it up before it could dribble between your slit. “messy little girl. cute how y’r pussy’s tryna compete with you,” and as he spanking it for a while, toji maneuvers soft tenderly circles against your throbbing heat.

“my messy pussy. all mine.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO

it’s rare for nanami to get pussy drunk—but when he does, watch out. he’s a eater at heart, and the moment you tell him what to do, he’s get cunt drunk within a matter of seconds.

“sweetheart, the least you could do is let me see you while ‘m between your legs,” nanami would huff, and his eyes were completely covered by his tie. tied in a neatly loose knot, he’s buried between your legs, so so close to your sopping saturated cunt. he could practically smell you, and as he spoke it was a cute pout that decorated his thin pink lips. as his glossed lips inch closer, he brings your pulsating clit a chaste kiss. “you’re wetter than usual today,” he whispers, and you let off a moan as your head tilts back, clawing a hand through his mussed blond strands. nanami looks up, his vision still blocked—but it’s almost as he’s making direct eye contact with you. as his finger gingerly peels your soddened folds apart, his husky voice pitches deeper. “does me bein’ on my knees ‘n blindfolded turn you on—”

with a impatient sigh, you give nanami’s hair a harder tug. “kennn,” and he watches as you create a wider spreading ‘v’ of your legs, glistening folds spreading apart also. “talk too much. finish eating,” and then a sly smile pulls against your lips as your eyes glance down at his unoccupied hand. “spank it too. . while you’re at it,” and you pout. “pretty please?”

“spank it?” he repeats, nearly getting lost at the sheeny stream of slick that pours down your slavering entrance. your pussy was profusely weeping from top to bottom, and nanami brings a hand up, softly caressing your tender twitching muscle. “my, where’s this comin’ from? you know i wouldn’t wanna hurt you, princess.”

you let off yet another frustrated sigh, feeling your chest heave in and out as nanami’s lips brush up against your swollen clit. pretty, ruby lips of his were all damp—along with the lower part of his jaw that was starting to water all due to your sweetened juices freely cascading down his chin. “ ‘s not gonna hurt, kento,” you reassure him, your voice getting shakier once he goes back to delving his pointed tongue in ‘n out of your throbbing heat.

there’s a coquettish simper that twists near each sides of his lips before he uses a palm to pat your cunt. “yeah? you want me to spank you here, huh?” and you whimper, watching as he starts to swirl a plethora of shapes against your sobbing entrance with his palm. immediately, you coat his entire palm with your slick and he starts to lick against his hand. with a sudden smack, you gush right on his palm a little and you whine at the abrupt contact. “ooh, how was that, my love?”

“harder,” you moan, feeling the bottomless pits of your stomach flutter with butterflies once nanami’s ethereal caramel eyes lock against yours. you hadn’t even realized he pulled his dotted patterned tie up above his eyes, getting a pretty peek of you and your sweet greedy cunt. once he gave you that look with that sleazy lopsided grin, fuck you knew it.

nanami kento’s pussy drunk, and it makes you throb just knowing only you had the power to make him this way.

with a playful snicker, he shakes his head. “ah, ‘harder,’ she says,” he whispers, giving your pussy another spank. one turns into two . . then three, then four . . and eventually, the only sounds that fill the room is nanami’s wide palm swatting against your squelching sex. if you weren’t vocal, you definitely were between your legs because your cunt continued to spat sloshes and squelches from each direction hit from his hand. “my oh my~ she’s a bit of a chatter today, no?”

still with a pout painted across your lips, you let off a sweet needy whine. “ ‘ken, spit on it,” and his ears perk up at your carnal words. you leer down at him as the corners of his lips crease inward, showcasing his dimples and he hums. “please, spit on it kento. need it.”

“no, baby. you want, not need,” nanami corrects you, the frigid silvery band of his watch brushing up against your cunt. as the coolly air of the room fans against your twitching flaps, he gathers up a nice wad of saliva before spitting down on your plump pussy lips.

nanami stares at you the entire time—openly, relishing in your expressions and you’re shivering and pulsating at the same time. seconds later, he leans in to slowly lap up the stringy trail of his own saliva while maintaining direct eye contact with you the entire time. nanami lolls out his lengthy long tongue, curling it inside of you before he gives your tender nub a niiiice long suck. he slurps literally everything out of you, and now. . he’s starting to to spell his last name with the tip of his tongue.

n-a-n-a-m-i k-e-n-t-o and as he’s tracing each letter libidinously, you feel your own hips rock and writhe into his mouth at an unsteady pace. nanami’s growing stubble tickles against your pussy and you whimper.

after a while, he grabs ahold of your hips and his head starts to sashay back and forth. he’s fast, and he softens his voice, talking over your sweet wailing whines. “fuck, use my face, honey. ‘s okay, i don’t bite,” he purrs against your clit. but as he spoke, his soft fawn irises lock against yours before he hums, teasingly nipping his teeth against your sensitive pearled nub while giving you the most pussy-drunken grin you’ve ever seen.

“unless.. you’re into that too, sweetheart—me biting your clit, i mean.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO

with choso—he gets cunt drunk the second he gets a fresh view between your legs. so pretty, just seeing you spread eagle in front of him, teasing him with that playful look in his eyes, oh you were gonna be the death of him. but in this case—not you, but your pussy instead.

“come closer baby,” you quietly coo, watching how your boyfriend’s eyes bulged wider. you look so pretty, slouched back against his side of the bed with your legs spread. he gulps as he openly stares at your drooling cunt - weeping with honey slick that creates a trail of wet molasses. you were so soaked, and choso could tell you were playing with yourself while he was out. “chosoooo,” you hum, a smile marinating against your glossed lips as you could clearly see him nearly entranced by your spread out pussy. he barely blinks, and once he starts making his way between your legs, he lets out a soft whimper. “c’mere, give it a ‘lil kiss.”

“y- you sure?” he sheepishly says, the darkened scar that runs across the bridge of his nose creasing up. as choso brings his face between your thighs, his warm breath aerates down your slit. god, he couldn’t help but get a good whiff. you smelled so sweet—and he hasn’t seen you all day. instinctively, he runs a thumb down your sobbing cunt before feeling his lips twitch. “f- fuck, princess. were you playin’ with yourself earlier?”

in this case—you’d end up making choso an ever bigger freak than you. with an impish grin, you paw a hand through his oily raven strands before inhaling a deep breath.

“maybe jus’ a little,” and you moan once you feel his thin lips pucker, bringing your cunt a soft three second smooch. “yeah- uh huh, like that,” and as your voice starts to tremor, you give his hair a light tug. “choso, use your fingers a little. can you do that too?”

“mhm,” choso replied meekly, and you didn’t have to tell him twice. as your legs continued to sprawl themselves open, he gradually pops in a finger – immediately feeling you try to clamp down on him. choso lets off a soft airy breath, watching with big marveled eyes as your cunt’s so eager to suck in the single digit.

you squelch—then you squelch again, and you let off a moan once you feel him start to scissor his finger way past the tight ring of your gummy entrance. “s- so warm inside, baby,” he murmurs, and he can’t help but lean in, sliding his tongue against your twitching sex. “mmph,” you stare as his eyes flicker back for a moment, and you knew right away that it didn’t take long before he choso kamo was fatally pronounced entirely pussy drunk.

the moment his digit’s buried deep inside of your sopping cunt—he can’t help but add in another, and he’s moaning right with you.

choso was near the side of the bed and his hips took it amongst theirselves to start rocking against the wooden edge. “c- choso,” you mewl out, feeling an eerie stir swarm around the bottom pits of your stomach. his fingers were long, and he made sure to delve them in and out of you, coating each ‘n every inch with such slimy volumes of your sweet sap. “fuuuck, keep kissin’ it too, baby,” and as he continues to obediently follow your words, your legs begin to wrap around his neck. “fuck, fuck, don’t stop. ‘s good, good fuckin’ boy.”

“m’ your good boy,” he repeats, feeling a strain at his dick that sheaths under his jeans once he hears you. your praise—choso’s number one weakness. whenever you showered him with praises, or even degrade him a bit, he’d probably cum right through his pants. choso’s thick fingers plummet deeper until they twist around, maneuvering circular shapes to make you whimper out a desperate battle cry. you slump back, gasping before you feel your leg start to twitch. “ ‘s this okay, baby?”

with another whine running past your lips, you felt a sudden pressure gradually building up. its creeping—and the curvature of your mouth forms into a oval-like ‘o’ the second you feel him rubbing his nose against your cunt.

fuck… you were so close and choso made sure to study your body’s movements. “m’ gonna cum, ‘cho. fuck, right there, don’t stop, ngh,” and as your eyes squeeze shut, you watch him briefly pull out his slick-coated fingers. you’re panting heavily. harsh-heated breaths snatch from your lungs unapologetically, and as you’re laid back with your legs spread wide – you don’t even realized you had gushed right out… a pretty shimmering geyser that sprays out your overwhelmed pussy.

your orgasm was beautiful, and choso’s ears twitched at the melodic sound of you abruptly finishing. you ended up squirting, and it makes him moan knowing he did that. “so.. pretty,” he pouts, lapping up his wet chin with his tongue. you could feel your legs still violently shaking as you were trying to get over your teetering high, your grip in his hair loosening. “hah, good girl. did so good, a bit m- messy but good,” he cheekily jibes, raven eyes flickering up at you.

choso gives your sloppy cunt one more kiss before you moan, feeling him slither both thin fingers back in.

“more… do that again f’me,” and choso playfully nibbles at your clit, hearing your cute yelps from the tenderness. “wanna see you squirt again, and again, and again.”

☆ SUGURU GETO

you’d make him pussy drunk in the most random times — he’d be working out, and you’d be straddling him, bare ‘n all.

geto grunts, feeling your soft wet cunt just laid all out, sitting against his flexing sweaty abs. such carnal thoughts roam through his brain… imagining all types of things—like him being between your legs to start, eating you out like a starved man.

“h-heh.. now m’ startin’ to get why you love watchin’ me do my sets, sweetheart,” geto slyly purrs, raising a brow once he sees you straddling not his lap—but his chest. his perfectly chiseled chest with glistening trails of sweat tearing down his sculptured v-line.

it was true . . you indeed loved to watch geto whenever he worked out, but it always made you super aroused. how his hefty tense muscles would tightly tense at each pull of his dumbbells. how his veins in his forearms would bulge from each rough pull. but the moment you peeled your panties to the side, geto hooks a hand on your hip. “oh? is my girl feelin’ a bit nasty tonight?”

“suguuu,” a cooing whine slithers past your lips as you pout, your wet cunt sitting flat against the top chiseled row of his abs. they were so hard.. and it makes your legs clench together, feeling his chest heave in and out. he’d just gotten through a bunch of reps, but you couldn’t wait—and neither could the stream that’s starting to gloss between your stick thighs. “you’ve been workin’ out all day.”

geto darkly chuckles, brushing a thumb down your drenched pussy. “babe, it’s been three hours,” and as his hooded eyes trail down at your cracked open legs, he exhales deeply. “but. . with a pussy this pretty, i gotta give you some attention too, right?”

“mhm,” you breathe, and he groans once he feels your hands slither toward his pecs. they were so big — and they glistened with sweat, beads racing down every corner. geto leans back, bringing both bulgy arms to rest behind his head as a coy grin plastered across his face. you couldn’t wait any longer, and that’s right when you started to move your sopping cunt against his rock hard abs. your hips moved slowly, and you were going back and forth, up and down . .

“fuck, look at you,” he whispers in a raspy hum, trailing a bare hand toward your the cute curving slope of your ass. geto gruffly groans, feeling his dick twitch in his black tight compression shorts. his noticeable bulge vigorously throbs and aches beneath the cottony fabric and you grinding your sweet cunt against his chest wasn’t exactly helping. geto’s sinister-dark eyes remain fixated on you the entire time, flickering towards your cunt from time to time—and within a blink of an eye, he swats a hand against your ass. “faster baby, don’t slow down now. ride ‘em good. make my fuckin’ abs just as dirty ‘n messy as you, yeah? use that pretty pussy. all for me.”

you start to pant - sharply, and as your eyes meet his, and oh, was he was feral. geto can’t help but strum a few fingers down your clit, bringing his fingers back up toward his lips for a shameless taste. as soon as he got a single taste of you, he was done for.

“sugu, m’ gonna cum,” you whimper, feeling your back starting to arch to a certain degree. slender fingers of yours rummage through his strands, tickling near his scalp before giving it a firm tug. geto groans, and you’re still jerking your cunt against his abs. it’s a lewd snail-trailing slope. you made sure to coat half if not all of his abdomen with your honeyed slick. “suguru, hng. gonna c- oh fuuuck!”

“c’mon then, make a mess. be my messy baby,” he whispers, his tone getting more and more huskier. each word he spoke in such a filthy sultry manner makes your pussy twitches. geto brings a hand down between your legs, ghosting a swollen fat thumb down your needy clit. throb after throb, you were getting closer toward your teetering edge—so much so to where you could almost taste it without actually tasting it. it was becoming inevitable, and right when you end up cumming, you let off the cutest seven-second mewl.

your jaw stupidly hangs open as you end up finishing against his core ripped stomach—geto flexes his pecs underneath you and he huffs. ��fuck, good girl,” and as you’re creaming on a row of his washboard abs, geto combs a hand through his hair. your cunt pulses against his skin and he hisses out a breathy needy ‘fuck.’ glancing down with low hooded eyes, he sees your clit dilating. so cute, you were convulsing right on top of him and your hips fatally come to a crashing stop. breath after breath leaves from your lungs as you’re a mess, watching his glossy his entire lower chest glisten with your own arousal to blame. “god, made such a mess on me,” and geto reaches in his boxers as you straddle him, phewing at how hot you looked on top of him.

but right as he sits up, you lightly push him back against his cushiony weight bench, hearing him land with a gruff ‘ugh.’ you pout, dragging a finger down his sharp sculptured v-line before stopping at his black faded happy trail. “s- suguru, let me lick it off you too.”

“atta giiirl,” he croons, giving your ass once final spank. geto leans back, his eyes following you as you lean your head down, still quietly whimpering from your recent release. geto groans, giving your hair a ruffle before sighing. once your tongue starts to trail its way down his sheeny slick abs, he sucks in a breath. “fuck, lick everywhere sweetheart. don’t miss a—hah, don’t miss a drop, fuck.”

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

“tch. what’s with . . the weird look, woman,” sukuna would pant, and he’s heavily out of breath. he sits back on his throne and oh, he’s flushed. you rode him to a point where he’s nearly speechless for a few seconds. you straddle on top of him with his cock stilled inside of you, feeling all various arms of his wrap around your waist. a pink slit brow furrows before he sighs. “quit looking impish, it’s.. irritating.”

“ ‘kuna,” you remain still, nearly slipping at a moan once you feel his flaccid cock rest between your folds. he’s stretching you out so good as shaky, rickety thighs of yours ached and burned. every vein within your body. he sucks in a breath once your hands feel down his bare, exposed chest. sukuna’s wearing nothing but a kimono on, it’s slit open and you felt all down his body. he’s warm, way warmer than usual and as you continue to touch the curse’s skin, you stop at his oversized pecs. “mhm.” sukuna’s got such a wide chest—but you weren’t so much focused on that, you were focused on his nipples.

his pink, perked nipples that you knew were always so sensitive. he told you about it . . once, and never again because it was well, embarrassing. even air brushing against his skin makes him shiver, including with causing his nipples to shamefully twitch. “can i suck on ‘em again?”

“suck on—oh..” his gruff voice trails, and you can see a splash of bashfulness paint his pale face like a canvas. sukuna ryomen’s embarrassed.. and oh how he wished he could wipe the smug smirk off your face. sukuna scoffs, but it doesn’t take long before he finally caves in. “fine, get it over with.”

your smile never falters, and as he’s still idly buried deeply inside your cunt with such salaciously thick inches, you bring your lips toward his pecs. sukuna inhales deeply, mentally preparing himself before fuck, you cup your lips around his right nipple. “hah, such a weird one you are,” he breathlessly groans, an arm gently clasping under your head to support it. your eyes close, and you suck on it—until he lets off another raspy groan. sukuna’s dick twitches and he’s so tender, so . . . sensitive.

the demon scrapes a few claws down his meaty thigh as your tongue lies itself flat against his perked nipples. “mhm,” your lashes flutter close, and at that exact moment, you start to ride him again. it was sudden, his eyes widen before he lets off a needy husky moan, squeezing a portion of your ass tightly before his crimson eyes roll back. he’s pussy drunk – entirely, especially since he was still trying to get over his most recent orgasmic orgasm. sukuna tried to keep up his façade, but with a cunt as hypnotic as yours, he might as well be buried six feet fuckin’ under. a vein twitches on his cock and its sporadic pulses make you pulse.

he’s just big inside, easily rearranging your insides without even having to move an inch. his lazy downward curve of his dick made you drool—sukuna reached far inside of your pussy, never forgetting to bruise and kiss against your sweet beloved g-spot. “ ‘kunaaa,” you repeat his name, and he could feel his entire body heat the more you whisper his title through those pretty glossed lips. as you briefly depart your lips from his nipples with a loud ‘pop!’ sound echoing through his eerie domain, strings of saliva detaching from your mouth. “hah, can you lactate?”

“you did not just ask me that,” the curse angrily pouts, and you feel his pecs tense. sukuna remains sat on his throne before scoffing. “you humans and your weird fantasizes. no, i don’t lacta—”

“wouldn’t hurt to try,” you titter, and he groans the second your mouth goes back to sucking against his tender skin like a leech. so good, a fang of his pokes beneath his lip as his mouth hands open. you’ve got him right where you wanted him. sukuna grunts from the sensitivity and you thought he was gonna push you away, but instead—he does the opposite. sukuna pulls you closer with one arm, digging his sharp keen fangs into his bottom pulled out lip to suppress his incoming whimpers.

your tongue swirls it way around his nipples, making sure to wet everywhere—he groans, sucking in individual sharp breaths before he feels his cock tightening. fuck, he felt something approaching quickly. his reaction time was devastatingly slow and his look of cockiness suddenly forms into . . neediness.

“ugh, such a nasty girl. but shit— don’t stop,” he snarls, one of his feet thumping against his regal glass floor. he’s chewing on salty anticipation and it’s never tasted sweeter. sukuna’s dick that stills itself inside of you aches for more, and as he watches as your own saliva lewdly race down the corners of your lips, he grumbles. “have some c- class, woman.”

oh, you’re making him stutter now.. and it’s cute— sukuna ryomen was flustered, and he’s so lost in his brief fantasm that he doesn’t even realize he’s cumming inside of you yet again. but at the same time, he starts leaking from his pecs. there’s a sweet taste that trickles on the flatness of your tongue as you hum. at the same time, a raw hot load pours into your womb deeply and he lets out a growl that echoes ‘n resounds through the soundproof walls of his domain. “fuck,” he hisses, veins prodding all through his thick neck. your cunt wholly accepts every drop, and you teasingly grind against him as your pussy flutters around him. then it dawned on him, sukuna came… just from you sucking on his nipples. you were about to say something as you try to get up, but he pushes you right back into sucking on his pecs, wrapping an arm around you.

“y’er .. a fuckin’ weirdo,” sukuna grumbled, still shuddering from his intense release. sukuna felt both of his nipples grow hot, and he’s shaking as he’s never felt more sensitive. velvety ropes shoot into you rawly and he huffs, lazily slouching all the way back on his throne.

“so you can lacta—”

“shut up, woman,” he snaps at you, but you can hear the cute shiver in his voice. sukuna’s eyes were droopy and he’s still heavily panting, moaning as you suck on his tender nipples. as you start to move your hips again, relishing the candied taste in your mouth—he’s still dumping hefty amounts of sweltering hot cum until it dribbles past your thighs. you’re overflowed, you’re overflowed and he’s undeniably pussy drunk.

“but… phew, didn’t say you could stop. do it again,” and sukuna’s vermillion-bloodshot eyes narrow at your smug grin before he curses under his breath, eyes rolling back eyes again,

“…please.”

[comatosebunny09]

Sylus, but with you at an important gala.

He always has to touch you in some way, shape, or form. Always has an arm around your waist or a hand at the small of your back.

When you sit down for dinner or to exchange pleasantries, he’s touching your thigh or hip. Drawing you closer, murmuring little teases and compliments into your ear that make your skin tingle, or you playfully whack him on the chest for being so cheesy. And he looks so boyish and carefree when he laughs, hearts practically replacing his pupils.

He is thoroughly smitten, his hand cruising over your side while you converse with the couple seated across from you. Sometimes, he pulls you into him, his chin in the crown of your head while you watch some of the entertainment. Peppers your hair and cheeks with kisses, enjoying how you bat him away like an overstimulated kitten.

He squeezes your shoulders affectionately because he doesn’t wanna let go. Can’t, and he’ll be damned if he lets a few disapproving looks from the other attendees draw him away from you. You’re his diamond. His Kryptonite, and you make this man wanna do things he thought himself dead to for years.

When you’re tucked away in the backseat of his car as his driver pulls away from the venue, he has your feet up on his lap. Peels off your heels because he knows your feet are swollen, and he takes to massaging the pain away—but you know it’s just more of an excuse to touch you.

You pretend like you’re still upset with him over crossed arms, looking away. But when his hand slothfully eases over your shin, your knee, pushing your dress up towards your thighs, and you catch sight of that amorous, enamored look of his…

You suppose you can forgive him.

Just this once.

[nvuy]

oh, the eldritch horror! — scar

summary. venturing out in the woods to clear your head was supposed to be relaxing, so why is this twisted abominable nightmare of a beast growling in your face?

notes. i rewatched shrek because i was bored and i snatched the donkey & dragon scene right out of it. but like, instead of a dragon, it’s literally baphomet. does this count as monsterfucking bc idkkk… anyway yeah it’s like scar but his goat form. i thought it would be funny. this is just painfully self indulgent.

idk wtf is going on in wuwa but my brain shut down when this loser came on screen and started ranting about shepherds and sheep. whatever you say beautiful.

warnings. scar, very minimal crack (it’s inspired by shrek. idk what to say bro…)

This has to be the worst day of your life.

The creature snaps its drooling jaw in your face.

It looks like a goat from Hell. Like a black sheep that’s wandered from its herd. You can’t see much of its face, but the ginormous pair of curled horns are sharp at the edges. The cartilage could easily slit your throat in half if you were to make one wrong move and lean in too close.

Four yellow beady eyes glare at you, way too close to your face. You can see your warped reflection along rectangular pupils. Giant ears peeled back towards its skull, pierced with two matching golden earrings in the shape of crosses that are the size of your hands.

You laugh nervously in its face.

Oh, god, it’s going to eat you alive. You know it.

You try to take a step back, but you’re met with the roots of a tree at your feet and the trunk digging harshly into your back.

Bad idea. Oh, this was all a bad idea. The bad luck streak should’ve been an indicator right from this morning: you slept through your alarm and were subsequently late for work, you fell over twice at work, you lost your house keys, and then you decided to clear your head and go for a walk.

You ended up venturing off deeper into the trees to search for herbs to help back at the clinic in Jinzhou. You don’t even know which direction the city is anymore.

And now, there’s a creature—and it can’t be a Tacet Discord—growling and snapping its teeth in your face. It’s huge. It’s way too big to be absorbed, let alone actually taken down with brute force. Whacking it with a stick certainly didn’t help.

All that did was manage to slash a decent gash into one of its hind legs and anger it even further.

It snarls at you.

A bead of sweat rolls down your temple.

Uh oh.

“Oh, what large teeth you have!” Your voice comes out shaky, and you’re trembling as you stare up at it.

A low guttural noise escapes from the depths of its throat, and its jaw unhinges.

Your eyes pinch shut. “I-I mean, white, sparkling, teeth!” You let out a nervous huff of laughter, your words almost incoherent. “I know you probably hear this all the time from your food, but, you must take really good care of those pearly whites, ‘cause that is one dazzling smile you’ve got there!”

The creature’s slitted eyes narrow in suspicion. Its jaw snaps closed as it pulls only a few inches away from your burning skin.

You quickly wipe your sweaty palms on your hands.

You clear your throat. “I’m so grateful that your beautiful smile will be the last thing I ever see. Y’know… when you eat me… ‘cause I’m sure you must be hungry!” You prattle on and on, and your knees are weak and wobbly. “Not that you have to eat me. I’d prefer if you didn’t, but– yeah! So grateful!”

You were praying to whatever Gods could hear you that your mindless babbling saved your life. Or some superhero came through and took this thing down in one swing.

The giant creature seems to preen at your words. Its sharp teeth retreat behind a now closed mouth. Its horn suddenly don’t appear as sharp as they were before, and the curl of them against the creature’s skull look softer and more defined. They were different to the ghastly sharp edges you saw before.

Your legs can’t keep still. Your hands interlock in front of you to try and quell the shaking. Your bones feel like they’re vibrating beneath your skin.

You try to control your breathing. “Beautiful hair–fur, by the way.” You raise a finger to point at the greyish locks behind its horns. For such a mangy beast, its hair looked a bit silky. Maybe unwashed, and it was full of twigs, but slightly soft. “And I smell a hint of berry…” Lie. “…Did you… wash it?”

Stupid question.

You try to control your breathing.

Maybe the beast isn’t a beast. Maybe it’s a nice creature cursed with being ugly.

The creature is still eyeing you.

Can it understand you? Or is it trying to survey whether you’re a threat or not? You can’t tell. You heard somewhere that dogs don't like when people look them in the eyes. You didn’t even know if that was true.

The correlation is stupid, regardless. This beast is far from even remotely resembling the canis genus.

Its head is huge, even when its jaw is shut. Its nostrils are the size of your hand, and it breathes puffs of hot air in your face. You reel back further into the tree. Your stomach drops impossibly lower than it already has. Your skin is soaked in sweat.

The creature bumps its nose against your sternum and inhales sharply.

You glance to the left.

Is it… smelling you? Is it trying to figure out if you’re edible? Oh, Gods, then you’re embarrassing stalling would have been for nothing. What a day. As if it couldn’t get any worse than it already had been.

You can't outrun it. It’s huge. By the time you’ve sprinted ten feet away it can simply lean over and pluck you by the back of your collar and pop you into its mouth.

Your insides churn at the thought. You were afraid you’d hunch over and vomit out of fear on the creature’s face.

Bad plan? Maybe then it wouldn’t eat you, at least. Or maybe it would. You were afraid to take the chances, and swallow the bile rising up your throat.

Its oddly bent arms smash into the dirt on either side of you. A low garble echoes in its throat and bubbles with saliva.

It sounds like a croak of sorts.

The lamb creature bumps its sharp snout into your stomach. Those beady eyes blink—you notice it has vertical eyelids. Gross. It’s like a giant lizard, almost.

Its teeth are gone for the moment, though, so it offers you a moment of reprieve. Or maybe it’s trying to calm you down so your blood tastes sweeter, or something. Sweat continues to roll down your neck, and you swallow the giant lump in your throat.

The red sashes of the torn clothes on its back pull with its form, ripping at the seams even more.

Your eyes flit nervously to the wound on its leg. It’s a small smear of crimson against grey fur, barely noticeable, and you’re sure the creature can’t even feel the sudden pain from it anymore. It seems to be walking fine, and it does not exhibit any discomfort when it shifts its weight to each hoof.

You wince when you spot the gnarly gash you left on it.

The lump in your throat doesn’t dislodge.

You try to ignore it.

The creature’s long neck pulls into view again. It’s watching you silently.

You figure if it wanted to eat you, it would have done so already. Hopefully you seemed inedible to it. Maybe it was an omnivore or something—but those sharp teeth were definitely not just for chewing on leaves and berries in the wild.

Morphed fingers dig deeper into the dirt beside your feet.

You stare into its eyes.

Its still eyeing you.

Huh.

It’s… curious. It blinks slowly, one eye at a time, as you slowly, and so slowly, slower than you’ve ever moved in your life, raise your hands.

Then, you navigate around its giant leg beside you and step towards the gash on its hind leg. Your foot tramples onto a twig and it snaps loudly. The creature watches you with lidded eyes, but there’s a flash of teeth in warning. You gulp.

You kneel before its wounded leg and pull your satchel from around your waist.

The creature does nothing. Its teeth disappear behind its mouth again.

“Sorry,” you whisper with a wince. You hope it can understand you’re not a threat. Maybe it’s scared of you. Wouldn’t that be a spectacle? A giant predator, some eldritch abomination in the middle of the woods, scared of a little flesh bag. “Um… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just scared, y’see?”

You had meant to hurt it, but you’d spit little white lies if they saved your life.

The creature blinks creepily again. That uneven slow blink, like a frog.

You’re more disturbed than anything. You’re amazed that ginormous tongue locked behind its teeth hasn’t come forth to lick its sclera wet yet. Then you’d be more convinced.

You try not to let it show. “But, um…” You dig around in your satchel before you pull out a small glass vial. “I have something that might help.” The vial is made of a crystal glass with a cork in the rim. The liquid inside is a deep blue, like the blueberries growing on the nearby bushes, or like thick ink.

The creature lowers its great head down towards the bottle.

It stares at your hands expectantly before trying to sniff around the glass.

Hesitantly, you remove the cork and hold the rim closer to one of its nostrils. It most certainly doesn't smell good; it’s made up of a mixture of herbs and alcohol, but you know for a fact it does a damn good job at shielding wounds from infection. It was fool-proof medicine; you made it. And you don’t settle for less than perfection.

The creature seems displeased with the scent for it seems to flinch away from the rim. It does not swat the medicine, but it turns its head away.

It looks grumpy.

“It might help the bleeding.” It will help the bleeding. You know it will. It will heal the entire wound. But, you didn’t come here to gloat, so you keep your lips zipped shut. “It’ll sting, though.”

The creature makes a noise. It does not sound like a warning, nor an acceptance of your words. It’s simply an acknowledgement, like a toneless hum, but you also don’t speak eldritch lamb, so you could be far from the truth. For all you knew, it was hyping itself up to open its mouth around your head or take off into the trees.

Alas, it does neither of those things.

It sits back on its hind legs despite its wound and then falls into the grass.

Its eyes shut and it stills.

You blink in wonder.

Did it… die?

Nope. It’s still breathing. Its nostrils flare with every breath. There’s a giant pitiful feeling of disappointment, but at the same time, a smaller pang of relief in your stomach.

Your hand reaches out to touch the tender and raw skin around its wound.

The creature remains still. Maybe it’s sleeping. It did chase you around the forest for a good long while.

You hum. It’s like a giant dog, you think. Like a scary, huge, dog.

You take loose cloth from your satchel and dab the medicine generously into the cotton until it soaks it thoroughly. You don’t have anything to properly clean the wound with, but it will have to do. You do have a wrap of bandages, though, and it’s better than nothing.

Gingerly, you press the soaked cloth to the tip of the wound.

The creature blinks its eyes open and snarls.

You try again in the spot next to it, gently pulling any flecks of dirt you see from the gash.

It hisses then, low and horrible, and you flinch away. It watches you cautiously, hind leg pulled towards itself protectively.

“I just need to clean it,” you say desperately. You know there’s a pleaful gleam in your eyes.

The beast tilts its great head towards you before it snorts and rests down on the grass again.

When you press the cloth back to its wound, it makes a noise, but it does flinch.

So, you work gently. Slowly, like you’re treading through thick murky waters. It feels that way. The creature puffs annoyed noises through its nose, but you dutifully ignore it, watching the shimmer of the medicine in the evening sunlight to make sure it was spread evenly over the gash.

When you’re satisfied, you take its giant hoof in your lap and wrap the bandages around its leg. The size of its calf takes up almost all of the roll, but you make it work, tucking the ends into the wrap. The creature does not deter away from the treatment.

You hope it isn’t too tight.

It’ll give the beast another good reason to close its jaw around your head.

The creature blinks its gross eyes open again, those rectangular pupils drawing thinner. It’s surveying the bandaging like it’s foreign; it probably is, given the creature has probably never received treatment in its life. You notice the ghastly scars drawn over its face.

Still, you’re frightened. The noises that pour from its throat are guttural and flagrant. It’s still huge, even as it lays in the grass. When it raises its head, it’s still taller than you.

You feel a drop of sweat slip down your spine.

It probably hasn’t eaten you because you smell unappetising. You’re thankful, internally.

You stay knelt in the grass, dirt staining your pants as you watch the creature warily.

Then, it coos. It’s snout bumps into your stomach and it coos. You flinch away from the noise, hands raised near your head defensively. Why is it cooing? Does it like you? That’s better than hating you, at least. The creature huffs and puffs against your stomach, and washes of hot air waver over your sweaty face.

You shakily rest a palm on the top of its snout, mindful of the deep scars.

The creature only stares blankly.

Huh. “You’re not so bad.” You swallow nervously. “You’re sort of like a giant puppy.”

The creature lets off a low garble. It sounds innocent, like a passing noise of pleasantries. Like it’s enjoying your attention.

Your hand smooths over the strange fur. It’s coarse between your fingers, withered with age and scars, but it still somehow retains a slight softness. It’s nice. It smells suspiciously like livestock, but that’s better than smelling of blood and sinew.

The creature drowns in the feeling of your hand against its head. The gold earrings are cold against your skin.

Then, it reels back.

You almost jump when its mouth moves towards your face before a long and slimy tongue drags up your cheek. You almost gag as saliva drips from your skin, but you try not to let it show. You shiver instead, mostly out of disgust.

The creature seems pleased though.

You’re glad to be of service. And to still be alive.

Nice puppy.

You try to ignore the slime stuck to your skin as you thumb over the creature’s horns. They’re enormous, much larger than the width of your arm, but the cartilage is so delicate, and you notice chips in the black curls.

It bumps its nose into your sternum and makes a noise.

When you say nothing, it makes the same noise, but it’s drawn out and higher, more irritated. Petrified, you stumble back slightly. You have a clear shot of running now. There’s no trees trapping you with this thing. You could try and make a beeline towards where you think Jinzhou is.

The creature stares expectantly. There’s a slow kiss of a blink, and hot puffs of air fan over your face and send jitters down your spine.

“I don’t– um…” You try to settle your trembling. “I’m not understanding–”

The great creature lets out a frustrated huff, and lowers its head towards you. You think not to place your sweaty palm on its snout for pets again. It doesn’t seem to warrant them at that moment, either.

It’s getting dark now, and you’re growing nervous again. Does it grow violent in the night? Is it warning you? Oh, God, maybe it’s going to pounce.

A cloying scent fills your nose. Your eyes refocus from the tears that melt along your bottom lashes.

You watch, mortified, as the creature warps.

Those giant hooves shrink in size, followed by an engorging shadow of smoke and red dust like sand. It burns your eyes and floods your lungs wrong, and you cough, fanning your face desperately. It stinks. It smells like metals and burnt soil. This mustn’t be good for your health, inhaling all this stuff.

The creature horns curl smaller until they disappear. You can’t see much of it, but what you can see is almost disturbing. It looks painful. The silhouette of the great beast continues to shrink, and those beautiful tresses of white and grey hair curl along what can be assumed to be a more normal looking face.

Its silhouette vaguely resembles a human, but there’s much too little to see you’re not quite sure. Black ripples down those long arms and pulls away the fur covering them.

There’s the snapping and straightening of bones. You almost puke at the sound. You force yourself to look away. Sweat pools in your throat like an oasis.

When you find the courage to glance back, the shadows then peel away from the inky red fog and dust.

You gulp.

It’s a man.

It’s the beast, and you know it is because the scars on the creature’s head match the lines and pulls of his skin. He’s devoid of fur now, and his hair is dramatically shorter, small curls imitating those giant black horns twisting around the now fleshy lobes of his ears and his neck.

His clothes are the same. Ruined and tattered, but still that red coat. His shirt is caked in dirt and his pants are torn where the gash is. It’s still covered by the rolls of bandages.

He is on his hands and knees in the grass. He looks exhausted, like he’s trying to recover from the most painful transformation you’ve ever witnessed in your life.

“Um…” It’s the only thing that can seem to form coherently from your mouth.

A grin cracks onto the man’s face. “Hi.”

You nod slowly in a greeting.

Your spine snaps rod straight in fright.

The man stands to his feet slowly. His bones crack and continue snapping as he moves, and he lets off an annoyed sigh before he stretches and pulls knots from his joints.

Then, he suddenly looks alive. “That’s better. God, have you ever been trapped in your own body?” You briskly shake your head, to which he scoffs playfully and continues, “‘course you haven’t! Silly me.”

“Are you–” You feel stupid for asking, but there’s something forcing you to say it. “Are you a Tacet Discord?”

The man’s face morphs to answer your question. “Do I look like a Tacet Discord?”

Well. He did. About five minutes ago. It takes effort not to respond with irked quips, eyes flitting towards your satchel that’s still resting by his feet where you had left it.

He notices you staring at it and kneels down to pick it up. The thin strap you swing around your body is pulled over one of his fingers like the bag is a foreign object entirely.

You figure he might try and rummage inside. He won’t find much if he plans to rob you.

Instead, his eyes narrow playfully at you. “You are so interesting.” He grips the strap of your bag tight and takes one calculative step forward. “Usually, humans bore me. They’re all cut from the same meat platter, after all.

“But, you…” A pleased, airy little giggle escapes his throat. “Oh, I like you.”

Oh, this is very bad.

That smile on his face says it all.

Very, very bad.

You sucked up way too much to the beast.

You’re in for it now.

You laugh awkwardly in return. You’re not flattered in the slightest.

You hoped the world ended at that very moment. That would fix the problem.

You clear your throat quickly. “I appreciate you not eating me, sir. Really, I do! But I need to get going now. It’s getting dark, y’see, and… and it’s not safe for me to be walking around in the dark…” You’re stalling again. It worked the first time. You hope it works here again.

That doesn’t appear to be the case.

The man watches you closely.

“C-could I have my bag back?” You curse yourself for letting the waver in your voice slip. It sounds hopeless.

As expected, he only snorts. “Nope.” He swings it over his shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere just yet.”

You really need your stuff.

Your feet remain planted into the floor.

He’s scary. His smile isn’t normal. The scars pulling around his eyes make it so much worse, too.

His head tilts curiously to the side. He’s walking right towards you now. His eyes rapidly move from your face down to your legs, surveying every inch of you he could.

You want to fall through the floor and disappear.

“What’s your name, little lamb?”

Your heart spikes in your chest. He’ll follow you right back to the city, you know it. You can see it in his eyes, and his expression—where’s that stick to swat him off? Your eyes frantically search the ground as you move for some sort of branch to stave him off.

Your hands raise in front of you to keep him away, but of course your little frail body isn’t going to deter him in the slightest.

If anything, he only coos again.

You tell him your name reluctantly when your foot stumbles over a stray root. You don’t topple over. You can’t imagine what would happen to you if you had to start crawling away from him.

He repeats it once.

Then, his grin softens. “I like it.” It looks relatively normal now, like he’s not about to dig his teeth into your flesh. They’ve straightened up from how sharp they were prior, but you’re sure those canines could do enough damage. “I like you. You’re so nice. So small. So silly.”

You swallow hard.

He says nothing else.

Your brows knit together in worry. “What’s your name?”

His eyes flit down to himself as if he’s wracking his brain to remember. Then, he says, “Scar.”

Underwhelming. It’s like calling a kitten ‘Cat.’ You don’t voice your disappointment. At least his name is simple, and easy to remember.

Your eyes swarm to his bandaged leg.

He’s not even limping. The gash seems like nothing but a fleeting thought.

The man, Scar, hums thoughtfully, a nail pointed onto his cheek. “It’s not everyday you find a little white lamb away from its flock. It would be unwise to give you up to the other creatures in the forest.”

You swallow whatever courage you have left in your bones. “I don’t need protection, but thank you.”

He can keep your satchel. You are out of here.

You turn away from him this time and continue walking forward.

“Oh, but didn’t you just say it’s not safe for you to be out here in the dark?” His words taper off into a chuckle. His smile twists into something grotesque again. His arms are pulled open into some sort of mocking await of an embrace. “Come, little one. I promise I am gentle.”

You don’t believe him.

You’re sweating again. Hot ash clings into your lungs. You stifle the urge to choke on your spit in fear.

Your head turns back to watch him, suddenly alarmed. Gooseflesh raises on your arms.

Stupid.

Your foot catches onto a thick protruding root in the dirt again, but this time you do stumble to the floor. Your head smashes against the ground but you can’t pay it too much mind. You’re panicked, and ice rushes through your veins like blood.

You push yourself up instantly, but he’s quicker, and a foot stamps down onto your calf. It doesn’t hurt, no, but it’s firm enough to keep you there.

His knees hit the dirt on either side of your legs and you’re cornered. You try to sit up to the best of your ability, but he tuts as if he’s reprimanding a child. “Now, now. You’ve hit your head. You could be seriously hurt, y’know?”

“‘M fine!” You push on his chest when he leans down far too close to inspect you. “Get off!”

There’s no physical damage except for a small welt. You feel dizzy, but that’s to be expected.

There’s something alight in his eyes.

Excitement.

This is a game to him.

Scar lets you sit up, though he’s still very much straddling your lap.

That same wobbly grin pulls onto his lips.

Oh, gross. You should never have treated his wounds. Now he’s staring at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him. You’ve caused some great beast to grow delusional because you wanted to be nice.

You’re never stopping to help lonely animals in the forest ever again.

You swear you see hearts bubble and pop from his head when he blinks at you. He hums a small giggle before his arms wrap around your neck and draw his chest into yours.

He squeezes you tight and you buzz with the excitement that radiates off his skin in heat waves. More and more hearts float from his head, and you’re sure his pupils are a shape to match.

“I want to keep you.”

He squishes his cheek against yours.

“Uh…” What the hell else do you say? Especially to this thing that’s swamped over you like a giant teddy bear. You can’t even breathe.

“So small. Are humans usually this tiny? And you’re so warm–”

You claw at his arms. His grip loosens over your neck.

He doesn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. Instead, he looks intrigued and experimentally squeezes around your throat again. “Oh. I always forget just how fragile humans are.”

You sigh in defeat.

Oh, boy.

This is going to be a long night.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

They’ve got the little window over the sink open and Bobby keeps calling through it, asking for ingredients, utensils. Eddie clatters around the cabinet by the fridge.

“Third shelf,” Bobby says again, elbow on the sill. It doesn’t help any more than the first time he said it.

“I don’t even- Bobby, I don’t know what I’m looking for. Just- you can’t just use a normal spatula?”

“The flexibility and sharp edge of a fish spatula,” Bobby says, also for the second time, with a strained sort of patience, “Is perfect for sliding under-”

Buck’s arm reaches over Eddie’s shoulder and plucks a long slotted spatula from Bobby’s elaborate and baffling collection. “Got it.” He kisses the side of Eddie’s head as he keeps moving, lips catching the top of his ear. “It’s better for-”

“Pancakes, fritters, any sort of delicate patty, yeah, yeah, I heard.”

Bobby and Buck grin at him with identical raised eyebrows, it's kind of uncanny. “He’s not hopeless after all.”

“I do my best,” Buck says, smacking Eddie on the back and heading towards the door. “He’s come a long way.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “I don’t have to keep handing you shit. We’re not at work. I could make you walk inside every time.”

Bobby grins wider. “And I could give you all the burnt tater tots.”

Eddie pouts. “I’m reporting you to HR for unfair retaliation in response to labor concerns.”

“We’re not at work,” Bobby says, serenely. “Hand me the tenderizer.”

Eddie was sent in here, originally, like half an hour ago, to cut up the two giant watermelons Hen and Karen had brought direct from the farmers market, but he’d only got the knife halfway through the first one when the side quests started coming. He finally returns to the cutting board as Buck and Bobby’s voice drift further away, towards the grill. He cuts the thing in half and then stares at it so long he jumps a foot in the air when Maddie suddenly appears next to him.

“Woah,” she laughs. “What secrets of the universe does that watermelon hold?”

Eddie coughs out a chuckle. “I was just- debating the best shape to eat.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Big choice. Little cubes? Little cubes are nice. Or, like, slices?”

“I’ve always been a fan of a nice wedge.”

Maddie makes a triangle shape with her hands. “It is a classic.”

“Kind of makes your plate top heavy, though.”

“You’ve got two watermelons,” she points out.

“Wedges and cubes,” Eddie nods. “I like your way of thinking.”

She grabs a bowl from a different cupboard — why does everyone know this kitchen so well already? This is the new Grant-Nash residence house warming party, Eddie’s got lost on the way to the bathroom like three times since he got here — as he cubes the first melon. “How was the movie?”

“Hm?”

“Didn’t you and Buck go see Conclave earlier? The trailer looked interesting.”

“Oh, yeah.” Eddie scoops the cubes into the bowl and rinses his hands off before starting in on wedges.

Maddie laughs behind him. “… and how was it?”

“Oh! Uh- yeah, I mean- you know, horror movies, they’re fun.”

Maddie tilts her head. “Wait, wasn’t that one a drama?”

“Uh-”

“Wait.” She wrinkles her nose. “Were you just- were you making out with my brother literally the whole time?”

Eddie, hands up, gives her a bare teeth grimace of a smile as she cackles and whacks him with a towel. “Hey- I mean, I kind of looked up once, they were in some sort of- I don’t know, a theater or something? It was really dark in there? It looked kind of creepy.”

“Oh my god.”

“There’s a lot of Catholicism themed horror movies,” Eddie weakly tries to defend himself. “How was I supposed to know?”

“By watching it!” She laughs. “Why spend the $12?”

“My air conditioning is broken,” Eddie says sheepishly. “And it was 10 AM on a weekday, the only other person in there was 80 years old and snored through most of it.” He frowns. “Which also makes more sense if it wasn’t- I don’t know, I thought it was like The Conjuring?”

She laughs again, helpless giggles while she covers her face. Her daughter laughs the same way sometimes. “Don’t you have catholic guilt? Wasn’t that a thing?”

Eddie shrugs. “My abuela always says once I commit to something I never do it by half.”

“So, making out all through a movie about the pope?”

Eddie points at her. “Gay making out all through a movie about the pope.” He frowns again. “Damn, it was really about the pope? Okay I’m not- look, I’m not feeling guilty about that but, uh, if you ever talk to my grandmother or Pepa, uh-”

“I don’t think it would come up,” she says, patting his shoulder.

“They’re not- it’s- they wouldn’t like me making out with a girl during a pope movie, either, it’s not the gay thing.”

“I know, Eddie,” she says, more kind than teasing. “Everybody’s really happy for you,” kinder still.

“Oh.” His cheeks are probably bright red. “Uh. Thank you.” His ears burn as he busies himself with the watermelon again. “You know- I wouldn’t’ve got here, without Buck.”

Maddie comes close, presses their elbows together until he looks back up at her. “He deserves someone who doesn’t commit to things halfway.”

It makes Eddie laugh with soft edges, because: “I think… I’ve always been all the way, with him.”

She smiles so wide her nose crunches. “I know.”

There’s a tap at the window, and there he is, Buck himself. His nose is a little pink from the late October heat, he’s smiling real big. “Hi.”

“What do you want now?” Eddie’s tone is snappy but he’s sure his face is pure mush.

Buck sticks a thumb at Maddie. “Chim’s threatening to, and I quote, ‘eat five hundred tater tots,’” Buck pauses, presumably in service of Chim’s love of dramatic effect, then continues, “‘and then fall into a coma.’ So, like, if you wanna do something about that you might wanna get out there.”

“W-” Maddie starts to ask, and then shakes her head. She grabs the cube bowl. “At least he should have some fruit, too.” She flashes them a grin as she walks out the door, their laughter following.

When Eddie looks back at the window Buck has his chin in his hand, smiling at him. “What?” He laughs, ears hot again.

“Admiring the view,” Buck says, with the combination of flirtatious and earnest that Eddie has come to expect but is never prepared for. “Food’ll be up soon. Come and join us?”

Eddie leans forward over the sink. “Cap doesn’t need anything else?”

Buck shrugs, very close now. Eddie almost laughs wondering if he’s on his tiptoes in the dirt out there. “He can get his own shit. I’ll eat your burnt potatoes.”

Eddie closes the last half inch of distance and does laugh, right into Buck’s mouth. “We can share,” he says, magnanimous, because Buck’s always been all in, too. He can go halfsies, it’s only fair.

There’s shouting outside, Buck pulls back, drums on the windowsill. Smile, wink, turn. Eddie grabs the wedges, and hurries out the door.

(Ao3)

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Aussie Slang || Tom Blyth x Actress!Reader

Summary: You quiz Tom on set on some Australian slangs as his Aussie gf ;)

A/n: Inspired by the interview between Sydney Sweeney and Joe Davidson, also bc as an Aussie this was fun to do lol 🙈

Warnings: none

Wc:

actress!reader au masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

"Tomm" You enter your shared trailer with your phone in hand, recording. "Yes, darling?" Tom looks up from his script as he gives you a smile and slightly confused face as he looks towards your phone. "I'm going to test your knowledge on aussie slang and words," You set up your camera on the table in front of him as he pulls you by your waist to sit on his lap.

He touches your hair that were in hair rollers as you smile at his buzzed hair, your favourite look on him. "I feel like I'm going to be absolutely terrible as this," He points out as you chuckle, fixing your camera. "I know, especially since I don't really say some of the stuff I'm going to quiz you on," You giggle as he throws his head back.

"That's even better," He sarcastically says with a smile as you pull out a small note book with the things you wrote down. "Okay, first one, are you ready?" You hype Tom up as he nervously looks at you. "This one is an easy one, I say it all the time. She'll be right"

You hide your smile behind the notebook as he thinks, "She'll be right?" You nod at him, "When have you said this?" He looks at you dumbfounded as your jaw drops, "Tom! I say this all the time, I even said it just this morning!" "I was half asleep this morning!" He reasons as you cover your face and laugh.

"This morning you told me it was going to be colder today and you said to bring my jacket remember?" "Yeah..." "Well I said she'll be right and I regretted not bringing one so you gave me yours. There you go, I just gave you a hint!"

Tom's mouth forms an o shaped, "Doesn't it just mean it's all good?" "Yes!" You chuckle. "Okay, that was an easy one" Tom smiles as you give him a look and look to the camera shaking your head. "Okay next one, I don't really say this to you but when I'm talking to my sister on the phone, you might hear me say this one: scoenonn"

Tom gives you the weirdest look as you laugh so hard tears started to form. "I'm sorry could you repeat that?" Tom looks absolutely baffled. "Scoenonn." You say in your Australian accent one more time as he shakes his head. "Is that even english?" He quietly laughs to himself as he thinks hard. "I say this to my sister when I greet her sometimes," You give him a hint.

"I actually have no idea," Tom says, his finger drawing circles on your back. "It just means what's going on" You laugh as Tom pulls another baffled expression. "Why can't you just say what's going on instead of what you just- How do you even spell that!" You show your notebook to Tom as he furrows his eyebrows at the spelling.

"Scoenonn. Wow." He chuckles to himself. "For this one I'm going to have to actually find it around here,” you look around the trailer before getting off Tom's lap and running into the bedroom and to your bedside drawer pulling it out. "Babe, what's this?" You show him a tub of vaseline as he gives you an odd look. "Vaseline?" He says in a questioning tone as he gives you space to sit back on his lap.

"Yes, but what do Aussies call this?" You hold it up to him before applying it to your lips as he watches you intently. "Uh-" "I think I have said it to you when I ask you where it is," Tom rubs his chin as he thinks. "Is it something completely whack and doesn't make sense?" He asks as you shake your head.

"This is fun," You giggle as you look to your phone. Tom lets out a groan of frustration, "Can you just tell me?" "Fine. Vaso. We call it Vaso" You couldn't help the smile that was forming on your lips as he shakes his head and laughs.

"You aussies sure do like shortening things up," He points out as you laugh at his comment. "Okay second last one, "What is a bottle-o." "A bottle-O? Is that just a a type of bottle?" You shake your head, "Nope." "Uhm, is it a name of a shop in Australia?" "You're getting there!" You chuckle.

"Want me to put it in a sentence?" You asks as he nods, "Do you wanna come with me to the bottle-o and pick out a few beers?" Your aussie accent comes through as he smiles at you accent. Tom absolutely adores your accent and could listen to you talking all day if it mean hearing your accent.

"A bottle shop?" He guesses as you pat his shoulder. "Good job babe," You grin as you flip the page of your notebook. "Okay last one, If you don't get this one, your aussie fans are going to be so disappointed as well as your girlfriend." You tease him.

"Aussie Aussie Aussie," You watch him as he repeats it to himself before his eyes light up. "Oi oi oi!" He chants back as the two of you burst out laughing. "Yes!" You wrap your arms around his neck as his arms wrap themselves around your waist. "This was fun wasn't?" You say as you lean forward and grab your phone, aiming it towards you two in each others embrace.

"Maybe I should quiz you on some British slangs, see how you go," Tom looks at you with a smile on his face as you make eye contact with him, "I'd be so good at that love," You chuckle before ending the video. You posted it on your Instagram and it blew up. Tom kept his promise of testing you on British slangs and that video also became very popular which then turned into your little thing of quizzing the other cast members.

[obsessedwithceleste]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

Mattheo Riddle x Slytherin reader

Prompt 4 of @thatdammchickennugget ‘s hogmarch challenge🫶🏽 and dedicated to this psychic anon request 💕

Summary: I’d kiss you as the lights went out, Swaying as the room burned down, I’d hold you as the water rushes in, If I could dance with you again.

word count: 4k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

You watch silently from across the Slytherin common room as yet another girl places her hand flirtatiously on Mattheo’s chest, batting her lashes with that seductive grin you knew all too well from watching all the other girls do it too.

“Go to the dance with me?” Her lips read as she leaned closer to your friend.

You can’t help but smile as Mattheo just rolls his eyes, moving away from the girl, not giving her more than a shake of his head.

The girl’s mouth hangs open in shock of the rejection. Really she should be flattered you thought dryly to yourself. She’d made it significantly further than others you’d witnessed.

Truth was, you’d had a massive crush on Mattheo since you were kids, and watching as he rejected girl after girl was much more entertaining than you cared to admit.

Growing up, you’d always admired his bold brashness, and willingness to say whatever came to mind. The two of you had always gotten into trouble together, bouncing mischievous ideas back and forth. The summer before coming to Hogwarts, your mother had given you a heart shaped locket, and Mattheo had insisted that a photo of the two of you go inside it.

"In case we don't go to the same house." The boy had reasoned.

But of course, he’d never seen you as anything more than a friend, and unfortunately, the cringey, cliche nature of the situation was not lost on you. Even now, as you mindlessly fingered the carefully disillusioned pendant while Mattheo stalked towards your group with an air of agitation.

“Bloody hell I can’t wait for this fucking Yule ball rubbish to be over and done with,” Mattheo states flatly as he sits down lazily on the sofa next to you.

“Just pick a girl to go with then. They’ll leave you alone if they think you have a date. Why do you think I asked Daph so early on?” Theo replies, not bothering to look up from his book.

Daphne whacks him with her textbook.

You watch as Mattheo tilts his head in consideration before his eyes shift over to you, a sly grin forming on his face.

“Don’t even think about,” you say, holding up your hand as if to block out whatever idiocy the boy was about to spew.

Now it’s Mattheo’s turn to open his mouth in shock.

“Wha- you don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

“You were going to ask me if I’d go to the dance with you,” you reply dryly. “Honestly Matt, I’m not stupid.”

“Well will you?” He asks, giving you his most charming smile.

“I’m already going with Blaise.” You respond.

Looking back, had it been a bit of a rash decision? Yes. But you had made peace with the fact that Mattheo likely wouldn’t ask you to be his date, and Blaise was one of your best friends. You knew you’d have a good time with him, and all your other friends had been pairing up.

“Tell Blaise to go with Astoria,” Mattheo reasons.

“Toria is already going with Enzo.” Daphne intervenes.

“What about Pansy?”

“She and Millicent got accosted by Crabbe and Goyle last I heard,” Theo replies.

“He can go with Draco then! People already mistake them for gay lovers anyway.”

“Matt, you know Draco is trying to muster up the courage to ask Harry. Don’t be dense.” You reply.

“Oh come on! How do you all have this sorted out already? The ball was only announced yesterday!”

“We organized it at dinner,” Daphne responds, as if the answer was obvious.

“You mean while I was in detention?” Mattheo asks incredulously, only to be met with a chorus of ‘yes’ and ‘mhms’.

You look over as your friend slumps into the sofa in defeat, a wave of slight guilt washing over you.

“Lighten up Matt, you’ve already been asked by a handful of girls today, you’ll be able to find someone to go with easy,” you say.

“Not with anyone who matters,” he grumbles, so low that you almost miss it.

A week had gone by and you were about to lose your mind. You thought that after the initial conversation in the common room, Mattheo would relent and just pick one of his many admirers to take to the ball. You really should’ve known better. You’d known the boy long enough to know that once he had his mind set on something, there was really nothing in the world that could stop him. You just never thought that you would be what he set his mind to.

“Matt, I’ve told you a million times, I’m already going to the ball with Blaise,” you groan, collapsing on your bed as the raven haired boy follows you into your dorm.

“Well lucky for you, I have the perfect plan to steal you away from ole Blaisey boy,” Mattheo says, his signature smirk in place.

You roll your eyes, leaning back on your bed as you wait for him to continue.

“It’s easy. You just have to date me,” Mattheo replies, as if his idea was particularly clever.

You let out a rather unattractive snort as your heart clenches. It felt as though it might pound out of your chest.

“Matt, that has to be the worst idea you’ve ever had. And you’ve had a lot of really bad ideas.”

Though asking the girl that’s fancied him for years to pretend to date him, only for him to snatch it all away again a few weeks later probably had to be one of the cruelest, you thought to yourself.

“Oh c’mon. There’s no way Blaise would be offended if you ditched him if we said we were together. He’s a perfectly reasonable bloke. He’d understand!”

You shake your head once more. There was no way you were pretending to date the boy you had been pining after for this long. It was only going to end in one way. Heart break. And not on his end.

“Bloody hell. What if I can get Luna to go in your place. Will you do it then? We both know he’s been eyeing that loon up for months.”

“Don’t call her a loon Matty.” You tilt your head in consideration however.

If he was willing to actually encourage Blaise’s love life, and be willing to get intermixed within the logistics of it all, he must be desperate. And you had been dying to set the two of them up, you supposed.

But you just couldn’t shake the bad feeling this whole situation gave you. It couldn’t be all that bad though, right? You reasoned. You’d gotten this far without Matt realizing your feelings, a few weeks of bliss surely couldn’t hurt.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll tell Blaise we got together and that I want to go to the ball with you, only if Luna agrees to go with him instead.”

Mattheo immediately brightens at your words, a self satisfied grin spreading across his face.

“Good. Because I already told Blaise that we were together and that I was taking you to the ball,” he says quickly. “Also- considering Blaise is more of a yapper than people give him credit for, the rest of the group definitely already knows.”

Your mouth drops open as you glare at the boy in front of you.

“Matt. What on earth. Did you tell him?” You grit out, praying to Salazar that Blaise hadn’t embarrassed you too much.

Mattheo shrugs. “Just told him that we had been out by the lake on one of our walks and I kissed you. One thing led to another and I asked you out. He seemed to believe it pretty easily actually.”

The boy looked all too calm about making up a whole scenario in which he made out with his best friend for your liking.

You purse your lips, taking a deep sigh. What did you see in this boy?

“Mattheo.”

“Yes love?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Can’t do that love, you wouldn’t kill your boyfriend.”

You continue to glare at the boy, fingers gripping tightly around your wand.

“Easy there, pretty,” Mattheo laughs nervously, slowly edging closer to you with a bashful grin.

“You better have thought this through Riddle. Because I’m telling you right now, that this is a bad idea.”

It was too easy. You know that much clearly. The two of you, you and Mattheo that is, walk silently along the streets of Hogsmeade, your friends surrounding you, shielding you from the brisk winter air. Mattheo's arm is wrapped securely around you, hand tucked into your jacket pocket, your fingers intertwined. It was so warm. So comfortable. So effortless, as if you had spent forever with his hands in your pockets.

Blaise and Daphne had been the only ones to know of your secret feelings towards your best friend, yet not a single one of the others looked particularly shocked when the both of you showed up in the common room wrapped in each others arms one night.

“Bout bloody time,” you’d heard Theo grunt to Draco from across the fireplace.

Daphne of course had been utterly elated for you, and Blaise had made sure you knew that there were no hard feelings about switching dates for the ball. Especially after he had secured one Miss Luna Lovegood as his date with the surprising help of Mattheo.

A warm squeeze of your hand shakes you from your thoughts as your group comes to stop outside of The Three Broomsticks.

“You sure you don’t want to come down to the shops, y/n?” Daphne asks looking back at you as she forges on with Astoria and Millicent.

“Bloody hell, yes! She’ll be fine with me. You can’t have her to yourself all the time!” Pansy says with exasperation, shooing the other girls away and linking her arm through yours on your free side.

The bell above the door rings lightly as the rest of your group enters the warm tavern, Theo and Enzo racing to secure your usual table.

“Hey Matty!” A voice shouts, stopping your trio in your tracks.

You turn to see another booth filled with familiar looking Hogwarts students and recognize one of the girls you’d watch Mattheo reject just a few days ago.

“Come sit with us,” she continues, attempting to wave him over.

Pansy gives the girl a sneer as you walk past, Mattheo not even sparing a glance in their direction.

“Don’t even know the bloody girl’s name,” he mumbles under his breath, causing you to let out a soft chuckle.

“Ey, what’s the hold up?” Theo shouts as you all hurry over to the table.

“Bloody hell. I thought y/n being my girlfriend would finally get those birds to back off,” Mattheo complains as he takes his seat in the booth.

His arm remains wrapped securely around you the entire time, sending warm tingles through you. It’s all an act, you have to remind yourself, pulling yourself out of your head.

Draco snorts at Mattheo’s grumbling.

“Half the school already thought you two were dating. Didn’t stop em then, so I don’t see why it’d stop them now.” He says matter of factly as the rest of the group nods in agreement.

“You lot are so dramatic. No one thought we were dating,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at your friends.

Their eyes flicker awkwardly back and forth between the lot of them. “Right.” Pansy says finally, bringing an end to the silence.

You glare pointedly at the girl.

“I’m going to the loo. Order me a butter beer Matty?” You say, standing up abruptly.

“I’ll come,” Pansy says quickly, going to rise as well.

“It’s fine Pans. I’m a big girl. Promise not to get attacked by a troll or nothin,” you say with a smile.

Mattheo opens his mouth to protest before closing it again and giving your hand a tight squeeze.

You make your way through the maze of tables, finally making it to the ladies room. Making a beeline to the sink, you take a breath, letting cool water splash against your face.

Salazar, you needed to get a grip. But everything about being with Mattheo felt so real. So natural. Which just meant it would feel all the more real when things ended. You take another moment to gather yourself, dabbing any remaining bits of water from your face. As your hand falls on the door handle to make your way back however, loud voices fill the hall.

“I don’t know what he sees in her,” a voice practically snarls. You can practically feel the malice, dripping from their lips.

“So it’s true then? Mattheo is taking that girl to the ball?” Another voice asks.

“I heard they’re dating.”

“They weren’t already?”

“I wonder if he’s taking her out of pity.”

A chorus of voices all say at once.

You immediately bristle, realizing they were talking about you.

“I hear she was the only one in their group who didn’t have a date and she practically forced him to take her.”

“I thought she was going with Blaise.”

Bloody hell. Where did they get all of this information?

“Whatever. It’s not like it matters either way. There’s no way they last. She’s a mess, and Mattheo has never been able to settle has he? It’s only a matter of time.”

You feel a deep frown form at the harsh words, but before you’re able to react, the bathroom door is pushed open and you’re face to face with the group of girls from before. The girl you had recognized as Mattheo’s reject smirks as she eyes you up and down before simply pushing past you. The rest of the girls follow, leaving you to wander back to your friends.

When you sit down again, Mattheo has a warm drink already waiting, and you let out a small smile as you cozy up next to the boy. No matter how hard you try to distract yourself however, the words of the girl’s echo through your mind.

Later that evening, you lay comfortably in bed with your head resting gently on Mattheo’s chest, hypnotized by the slow rise and fall. You hadn’t seen your roommates all day, and doubted they would be back if they weren’t there by now.

You lived for nights like these when Mattheo would bow out of whatever mischief Theo and Enzo had cooked up, and instead spend the evening holed up with you cuddling, talking, or getting into your own trouble. Your room had become a safe haven. A sacred oasis of sorts for the both of you to unwind, safe from the outside world.

“You were awfully quiet today at The Broomsticks.” Mattheo says, breaking the silence.

You only hum in response.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“How are we going to break up?” You ask, rather abruptly, as you look up at your best friend.

Mattheo looks surprised at the question.

“I don’t know. Didn’t really think I’d get this far in my scheming to be quite honest. I suppose I figured we’d just say that we figured we’d be better off as friends, or something of the sort. You can blame the split on me though if you’d like.” He replies.

You move your head to look down once more, picking at the blankets.

“No, no. The friends thing is fine. When should we do it?”

“Trying to get rid of me already, love?” Mattheo asks with a laugh.

“I just want to know what to expect.” You say quietly, causing Mattheo to grow quiet as well.

“Alright. Then how about a few days after the ball? We say that the dance made us realize we were better off as friends, and everything goes back to the way it was.” He says finally.

You feel your heart crack at his words.

“Yeah. Exactly like how it was.” You repeat.

Smoothing your dress out one final time, you turn around to hear Daphne gasp.

“Oh that’s stunning,” she gushes, her own deep blue gown cascading elegantly around her in waves of silk.

You’d spent the last several hours or so in her and Pansy’s shared dorm getting ready for the ball with the other girls, though where Pansy had wandered off to you had no idea.

All you knew, was that you were bloody nervous. You didn’t think you would be. It was just like any other night you reasoned. You and Mattheo were with each other constantly. What difference did a pretty dress make?

“I think the boys are ready for us whenever we are. Toria, come get these shoes,” Daphne shouts.

Astoria really did look like a princess you think to yourself, her soft yellow gown billowing gently with every movement.

“Ready to go down?” She asks, seeming to float over.

“As I’ll ever be,” you respond with a nervous smile.

Giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Astoria slips on her shoes before making her way down to the common room, you and Daphne following close behind.

The boys are already congregated by the fireplace; their loud chattering could be heard across the room, but as soon as Theo’s eyes meet Daphne’s he freezes and the rest of the boys quiet down, noticing the shift.

Your eyes lock onto Mattheo’s and you slowly make your way over, nervously picking at your skirt with trembling fingers.

“Beautiful as always, y/n,” he says, smiling down at you when you finally reach him. Gently, he raises your hand to his lips, barely grazing over your shaking fingertips before looking back at you with his signature smirk.

“Where’s Draco?” You ask, not quite able to stomachs the intensity of his gaze.

“Had to be there early. Something about the champions and their dates having the first dance or something,” he replies easily, his hand finding its ever familiar place on your waist.

“Oh we are not missing that,” you say, your nerves quickly being replaced with excitement.

Mattheo grins back. “I knew we’d be on the same page,” he responds, tugging you towards the doors.

Together, the both of you rush to the main hall just in time to see Harry and Draco getting herded into a lineup of the champions to be paraded into the Great Hall.

“I certainly hope he took Snape’s dance lessons to heart,” you giggle.

It doesn’t take much longer for the rest of your group to join the both of you and soon enough you find yourselves following the flood of students into the newly decorated Great Hall.

It really was spectacular. The house elves clearly had spared no expense with thick, green trees covered in tinsel and ornaments lining the walls. Floating candles cast a warm glow about the room and the floor had the appearance of being covered in freshly fallen snow.

You watch, hiding a laugh, as Draco and Harry move awkwardly around the dance floor, almost colliding with Cedric and Cho on more than one occasion. Salazar help them.

Slowly, other couples begin to join the champions on the dance floor, swirling together in a sea of shimmering color.

“May I have this dance m’lady?” Mattheo asks with a lopsided grin.

Before you even have the chance to respond however, Mattheo is pulling you onto the dance floor, a look of pure delight across his face. There were very few times you remembered him looking this happy, and it melted your heart.

As the night progressed, Mattheo refused to leave your side, his hand rarely leaving your waist. Really, you hardly left the dance floor either. The few times you were able to escape with Daphne or Pansy to the punch bowl, Mattheo tracked you down shortly after, pulling you right back into his arms.

To say that you were in heaven was an understatement. You had spent hours daydreaming about what it might be like to have Mattheo’s hard-won affection to yourself. And now that you had it, you were practically floating. Which just made it all the more heart wrenching as you anticipated the inevitable. It was as if every move you made, every dance the two of you shared, was done with your hands tied.

People really weren’t going to believe your break up if he continued on like this, you’d thought at some point. But you couldn’t quite bring yourself to tell him to back off, especially as it grew later. Your time with him was fleeting after all.

“Bloody hell, Matt. Give the girl some breathing room,” Pansy exclaims after Mattheo had sought you out for the third time.

Mattheo just gives her a guilty grin before spinning you out onto the dance floor once more.

“I didn’t realize you liked dancing this much Matty,” you tease as the two of you away slowly on the floor.

“Oh I don’t. Just making sure I take full advantage of the night,” he replies, looking intently down at you.

You cock you head to the side.

“With you as my girl, I mean,” he adds. And before you’re able to put together another cohesive thought, his lips are on yours. In the middle of the dance floor.

Immediately it feels as though the lights had gone out, leaving the two of you alone in the room as you let your eyes flutter shut, focusing on the softness of Mattheo’s lips on yours. They move slowly at first. Carefully. Before quickly growing hungrier, more determined.

You barely register Mattheo’s fingers digging into you as he pulls you closer, and find yourself lost in the gentle sway as everything around you burns to the ground, leaving behind a fire growing steadily in your chest.

And just like that, you’re back in Mattheo’s arms as the water comes rushing in, jerking you back to reality. You stand frozen staring up at Mattheo as couples continue to move around you.

Had that really just happened?

“Um- fresh air. I think.” You stutter out, all but dragging the boy from the dance floor, praying no one had seen or noticed.

Mattheo wordlessly allows you to lead him out to the courtyard entrance before you all but collapse on one of the stone benches, still in shock.

“Please don’t avada me! I didn’t think that through entirely.”

“I don’t want to break up.” You say in unison.

“What was that?” Mattheo asks in surprise.

“No- hold on. Why in Salazar’s green bed sheets would I want to avada you?” You ask incredulously.

“More importantly, you don’t want to fake breakup?” Mattheo asks with a grin.

“Of course I don’t want to break up! I’ve fancied you for years!” You blurt out, slapping a hand over your mouth as soon as the words escape.

Mattheo looks at you with shock.

“No. I’ve fancied you for years. Why else do you think I refused to take anyone else to the ball?”

“Because you’re a stubborn arse,” you retort, barely processing the boy’s words.

He liked you?

The two of you stare at each other for another moment, still not fully believing the other as your minds race to put the pieces together.

It’s Mattheo who acts first, surging to connect your lips once more in a heated frenzy. It’s addicting really, the feeling of his soft lips against yours. The pull as he brings your bodies closer together. The warmth you can feel radiating off of him.

When you finally pull away this time, Mattheo’s eyes are shining down at you with that familiar intense gaze.

“We’re a pair of oblivious idiots, aren’t we?” You mumble, leaning into the boy.

“Well, you are. I haven’t exactly been subtle.” Mattheo replies with a snort, hugging you to his chest.

“Don’t be a twat. You’ve had girls fawning over you for years. What was I supposed to make of that?”

“I never looked payed them any mind, love. Think of it this way. I’ll just have years to make up for tonight,” he says with a cheeky smile.

You feel a familiar heat begin to rise in you once more as Mattheo takes hold of your arm, leading the way back to the dungeons.

“Oh I’ll hold you to that,” you reply, a mischievous smile making its way to your face.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less of you, love.”

[oceantornadoo]

Hello… Uhm. This is my first time requesting, lol. I was wondering if you could maybe… do a part 3 to that one fluff thing with the reader liking Simon bigger in size? I adore it so far. You don’t have to though! I was just hoping you could.

since the holidays have a lot of eating, i decided to make this christmas fluff

previous parts here (it's called "i like you big")

tw: simon has unhealthy eating habits

"since we have to be here over the holidays, we're doing a movie marathon. christmas movies only!" you announced cheerfully to the groaning task force. it was a rare night on base where everyone was together, and you wanted to spread some holiday spirit. "and i bought cookies." that got some cheers, thankfully. you took the cookies out of the locked cabinet, a necessity when surrounded by ravenous soliders, and set them in the common room near the tv. you went all out: sugar cookies, chocolate peppermint ones, raisins for price (as part of his old man tendencies), scottish shortbread, and british tea cookies for your favorite brits.

"cheers, love," simon murmured. you tucked your head to nod, afraid he'd see how easily the term of endearment heated your face. instead, you busied yourself setting up your favorite christmas movie (elf, of course) and passing out plates to everyone. it was self-serve, so you stood back as your task force attacked the table with a single-minded vigor you only saw on the battlefield. curiously, simon only had one cookie on his plate, a british tea one. you took your usual seat next to him on the sofa, grinning as soap and gaz started debating the reality of a human surviving the north pole in only tights.

"only one, si?" you whispered, nodding to his plate. at that exact moment, you heard his stomach grumble. he didn't have his mask on so you could see how his cheeks got a little pinker at the sound. "not 'ungry." you frowned. instead of replying, you reached for your own plate, taking one of each cookie until it was stacked full. his arm was around the back of the couch so you tucked yourself in further. the chocolate peppermint cookie was delicious, and you couldn't hold back the small moan you let out at the taste. simon stiffened by your side, uncomfortableness radiating off him in waves. "sorry. it's jus' so good." your mouth was slightly full, this time with the scottish shortbread. "bonnie, ye got shortbread?" soap asked earnestly. "yeah, i figured it would be nice to have a taste from home. not sure if you actually eat these or if it's just a stereotype but..." soap smiled wide with a boyish grin. "our thoughtful girl, gettin' cookies fer all of us. thanks, bon." you smiled back, tucking yourself further into simon as he hummed in agreement.

"plus, i think everyone deserves extra treats during the holidays. animals gain winter weight, why shouldn't we?" you added as an afterthought. price snorted in agreement. gaz made a comment to him that earned him a whack to the back of his head. you snuck a look at simon, who was staring off into the distance, ignoring buddy's journey on the tv screen. "si?" you nudged him a little. "s'ppose y'r right. an' y' put all this thought into these." you gave him a small smile that he returned, a rarity from your lieutenant. he shifted on the couch, leaning forward to grab two more cookies from the table, decidedly ignoring the scottish ones. he took a bite of the sugar cookie in the shape of a christmas tree and closed his eyes contentedly. "good, si?" he nodded, his shoulders loosening and his body sinking into the sofa. "yeah, love. real good."

this was short but the rest of them has been as well so i hope you enjoy :) this was also the first time i've written holiday fluff <3

[piratefishmama]

Angel | Steddie Oneshot

Eddie Munson never believed that he’d go to Heaven. Sure he’d been raised in a catholic household, his uncle was religious, he’d been raised to give thanks for the food they ate, to pray before bed that should he not wake, his soul the lord take an all that jazz.

Wouldn’t believe it to look at him, to hear the songs he sang, the music he played. Wouldn’t believe how he’d been raised if one were to go by covers instead of contents.

But despite his upbringing in the very catholic Munson Trailer of Forest Hills Trailer Park, he never believed he’d go to heaven. Something about queers and submitting to sin and blah blah blah it’d been a long-ass time since his last confession, but Uncle Wayne stopped reminding him a few years back, so he had an excuse to keep ‘forgetting’ to do it.

Turns out, one did not need to go to confession to make it to heaven!

Angels would just. Turn up, apparently.

Maybe he’d done something good that he wasn’t aware of, he did go to that Make A Wish thing a few weeks back, DM’d a whole one shot for the kids, he’d spent hours there, a whole dang day just… hanging out with sick kids.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was what brought this heavenly creature to his side.

To cut a long story short, he was on stage one minute, belting out the lyrics from the final verse of the last song in their set ‘Into the Underdark’, Jeff was slipping into the ending guitar solo, Eddie was gearing up for an end of gig crowd surf and the next.

The next he was looking into a bright, blinding light that kept moving between his eyes.

He’d always been told not to go to the light. If you see it? Don’t go to it, going to it would make whatever trip you were going on a one way ticket, there was no going back when you reached that light. Just hang back, wait for the resuscitation, it’d happen, someone would breathe life back into you, or whack you with enough voltage to get that heart kickin again, just don’t go into that light.

That light was way too close to his eyes, and he couldn’t swat it away. His arms felt tied down. Rude.

And then the light was gone, had he reached it? Was that it? One way ticket stub punched, sorry Earth, Munson out. “Mr Munson? Can you hear me?” Oh what heavenly chorus, the light had momentarily blinded him but shit… when his sight came back, at least enough to make out the vague shape of a very square jaw, of angular features, of warm hazel eyes, and a luscious head of hair surrounded by a halo of brilliant white light.

Angel. He had an audience with an Angel. It could only be an Angel. Neat.

He’d enjoy the ‘I Told You So’ he got from his uncle whenever the old goat made it up there he hoped it wouldn’t be soon though, he’d prefer a longer wait than a short one, thanks.

“Mnn… I hear you big boy, are you sure I’m in the right place though? I’ve been told Heaven wouldn’t want me” it sounded smooth in his head, but he was pretty sure he slurred half the words.

How could he have a slurred voice in Heaven? That didn’t seem fair.

Oh he’d forgive the slurred speech bit if the angel kept making that wonderful music with his vocal chords, that little giggle of a laugh, so bubbly and sweet, yep. Somehow he’d weaselled his way into Heaven. Suck it soccer moms. “Well, at least you can summon the strength to be charming.”

He was charming? An angel thought he was charming? Hell yeah, he’d rock this heaven shit, he already had an in with the big, winged boys!

“I can summon the strength for other stuff too, worship ain’t ever really been my thing but, baby I think I can learn for a literal Angel” he’d subject himself to an afterlife on his knees gladly if it meant he’d have his hands curled around this creature’s thighs, his mouth on—

“Oh wow…” Eddie couldn’t really see it properly thanks to the lovely blinding spots in his eyes that was no doubt his eyes adjusting to heavenly light, but he was sure his angel was blushing, he sounded a little breathless. Good. “You’re uh… wow”

Eddie hadn’t had much charm before becoming world famous but, he’d gained a little experience. Women and men alike throwing themselves at him, knowing he wasn’t all that fussed, babes were babes. All genders welcome to hop on and take a ride. He knew it was mostly the fame, he was still the same nerd he’d been back in high school, but… if fame got him laid then fame got him laid.

At the very least it gave him the experience to flirt with one of Gods pretty little birds. Maybe even score if the reaction he got was any indication.

So much for lust being a punishable sin, huzzah.

Steve was having a day. Okay no, Steve was having a whole week. The only upside to his overtime riddled ass, was that Robin had been on the majority of his shifts with him, so they could at least talk in the ambulance while they roamed the streets waiting for chaos to drop.

Monday, it’d been a seven car pileup on the highway, a few lost limbs, no fatalities but one hell of a close call on two accounts.

Tuesday, it’d been a tumble at a care home resulting in a popped hip and some heavy flirting from a few old ladies. Poor Robin suffering it from a few old men trying to shoot a shot they didn’t have.

Wednesday it’d been crisis after crisis resulting in him not finishing his shift until six hours after he was meant to finish his shift.

Thursday he had one blessed night off, thankfully his on-call status hadn’t dragged him in, and he got a decent six hour nap in.

Friday, another car wreck, he didn’t want to think about that one.

And now Saturday.

Dispatch sent them to the sold out arena, some idiot had leapt off the stage likely for a crowd surf, his foot tangled in an amp chord, it reduced his air time dramatically and he brained himself on one of the guard rails.

Excellent. At least he wasn’t dead.

Which given how easily one could wind up six feet under from such a whack to the head, he was lucky.

They parked by the side exit, shuffled in by security, and right through into the arena. The patient hadn’t been moved as per dispatchers instructions to the person who’d called. No moving the idiot until the professionals arrived and determined it safe.

Cameras, flashing lights, big beefy security guards standing in front of them blocking the majority of what was happening from view, there was… quite a bit of blood there. It didn’t look pretty in that lighting. “The crowd’s too much, let’s get him to the ambulance.” Robin’s patience didn’t exist when it came to large crowds.

Too many people. Plus she’d been on shift five hours longer than he had.

“Alright, you two, c’mere” Steve singled out two of the big security guys “we’re gonna need you to help us get him onto the gurney, we’ll look him over in the back of the ambulance.” There were no broken bones, nothing stopping them from moving him just enough to get him to the ambulance unscathed.

And then, somewhere between writing out paperwork, checking vitals, and Robin googling who this guy was, said guy… woke up.

Steve, being closer, was quick to check responsiveness, pupils reacted well to light although a concussion did look likely, they’d cleaned up the blood and found the cause to be a cut just above his left eyebrow that’d probably make a kickass scar and oh.

Without the blood. Oh. Oh he was pretty. Pretty plump lips, long lashes, deep brown eyes, faint freckles across his nose. All that hair. He was pretty.

“Mr Munson? Can you hear me?” He’d asked, while shining that little torch into those pretty brown eyes, left to right to check the responsiveness. And then he spoke and Steve— well. Robin was eyeballing him judgementally pretty damn hard given how fast his face flamed red.

Her head in her hands, her fingers plugged into her ears as Munson rattled off promises of worship and good lord— Steve didn’t know what to say, what to do, what does one do when a hot yet slightly delirious rockstar offers to worship your ‘angelic body’?

What does one do with that?

One awkwardly stutters through thanks while bright red and toasty until they can part with the guy at the ER wishing he’d met him under better circumstances cause it’d been a long ass time since anyone even touched him let alone worshipped him but accepting that he’d probably never see the guy again, so it didn’t really matter.

Until a few days later when the official Corroded Coffin account slid into his DM’s on Instagram, apologised profusely, and requested very sweetly to make it up to him with dinner the next time he was free.

Signed Eddie. With a little angel emoji. How on earth could he say no to that?

[desideriumwriter]

Anyone But You | Chapter 11

Chapter Summary: It's now Fred's turn to hold a grudge against you, you try to smooth over things with him by returning something of his. After unexpected events unfold at the third task, you get comforted by the last person you'd want to be comforted by. You think.

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Category - enemies to lovers + hurt/comfort

Content Warnings - reader is in denial once again, canon character death, grief, crying, this one is just a mess of emotions yall

Word Count - 4.5k

A/N: supriseee, this is why i changed the dates of the tasks, buckle up. this one is...a lot. sorry.

Series Masterlist | F.W Masterlist | Previous | Next | Navi

Fred hadn’t made any contact with you since your outburst at the Ball.

He paid you no mind when he walked past you the next day to board the Hogwarts Express. He never sent any owls like he usually did over the remainder of winter break. He nor George bothered you anymore in potions. During the second task of the tournament, Fred stood as far away as he could from you on the wooden dock.

It had been almost two months since you lost it at him and the most he did was glance in your direction and shove past you once in the hallway.

Yet, there were still constant reminders of him and you lingering around.

God, you were infuriated when you saw a photo of Fred and you had made it onto Rita Skeeter's section in the Daily Prophet.

“That bitch is a bloody liar!” You exclaimed as you looked at the newspaper.

Of course, her photographer had to get a photo at the exact moment you smiled and let out a small laugh instead of when you stood up and began shouting at him.

Now that seemingly innocent split second of a moment between Fred and you was playing on a loop in a heart shaped frame.

“Woah! Language!” Cedric was shocked yet amused by your outburst.

“Young love? This is what you call young love?” You mocked, pointing at the photo of Fred and you, “How’d she even get in? I can’t believe it!”

“Maybe it’s a sign.” Cedric shrugged, laying down on the stone bench.

“A sign for what? That Rita Skeeter has no idea what the hell she’s talking about?” You went on as Cedric closed his eyes and sighed. “I mean, come on. I smile at him for three seconds and all of the sudden I’m in love?”

“Merlin's beard, just put us all out of our misery and admit it already.“ Cedric let out a dramatic groan, rubbing his face.

“Admit what?”

"Admit you have feelings for him."

"Only the worst ones." You whacked him with the newspaper. “Besides, I already told you what happened. I’m sure he hates me now too.”

“I’m sure he’s just heartbroken. The first stage is denial.” Cedric commented, earning him a disagreeing head shake from you. “You know, some time in the future you’re gonna look back and think: Damn, Cedric was right, I am in love with Fred Weasley, I’m just too stubborn to admit it.” He teased in a high pitched voice. You hit him again.

“Shove off, just tell me how your date went with Cho.”

It seemed like no matter what you did, you couldn’t escape Fred.

Even with Angelina and Katie refusing to bring them up, even with Fred or George no longer bothering you, even with Fred literally hating you now, you couldn’t escape him.

Like when you opened your dresser doors, looking for your missing glove, only to find Fred’s hat he gave to you at the first task.

You didn’t realize you still had it, you didn’t realize you never gave it back.

He never asked for it back.

The guilt was settling in.

He never asked for it back though. He could’ve taken it back after the first task was over, or the next day, or really any other time. But he didn’t. He let you keep it. All this time has passed and he let you keep it. Why?

Fuck, you felt like you were going insane. You had to talk to someone about this.

“Cedric! Cedric!” You called out, running up to him in the empty courtyard. You were quite lucky to find him alone these days, he usually was always walking in a group of his supporters. “I need your help! I really need your help!” Cedric acknowledged you, but he didn’t stop walking.

“I’m not sure if I can help you right now, I promised to meet Cho at the pitch in like ten minutes-”

“Your snogging sesh with her can wait!” Cedric goggled at you for a second, continuing to walk.

“It’s urgent! It’s about Fred!” You grabbed onto his arm, pulling him to stop.

“Oh my- When is it not?” He groaned, his face scrunched up and scowling.

“I’m thinking about apologizing to him.” You blurted out, Cedric's face dropped into a serious stare, he paused for a moment before speaking.

“To Fred? Are you serious?” You nodded, still straight faced. “You are?” He asked again, looking at you like you were speaking another language.

“Yes! I have a plan! Hey- what’s so funny about that?” Cedric began to let out small laughs, now you were scowling.

“Oh I’m sorry, I just, you’re so deep in denial.” He said through chuckles, he actually found this humorous. “I’ve been waiting forever for this, I cannot wait til i see you two walking hand in hand in the hallways after this!” You gaped and gave him a shove.

“Hey! I still hate him! I absolutely do! I just…feel bad.” He raised his brows at you in disbelief, giving you a look that said Really? That's it?

“I’m scared that it could end badly if it doesn’t work out.” You admitted, shamefully looking down.

“End badly? Oh please, you already hate each other. How much worse could it get?”

Worse, it turns out.

You had a plan. The next time you saw Fred by himself. You would stop him, return his beanie back, and apologize. And, you would make it clear that you weren’t friends, that you still found him bloody annoying. You just didn’t want anything of his in your space.

Maybe it wasn’t the best plan, or the best way to apologize. It was also a bit weird carrying around his beanie in your bag everywhere you went. But, you didn’t know how much longer you could go having his belongings in your presence.

You didn’t know how much longer you could go with him ignoring your presence instead of bothering it.

You were able to stop him after you caught him wandering down an empty hallway. Honestly, you wanted to hide behind a pillar and let him walk past without noticing you. But, he couldn’t avoid you forever, neither could you.

“Fred?” You stepped out of your hiding place, he saw you but he didn’t show you any acknowledgement, continuing to walk with a stone cold expression.

“Fred, wait.” You called out, following after him, “Can you just stop avoiding me for a second?” You exclaimed. He drug his feet along the ground as he stopped, turning to you with his arms crossed.

“Stop avoiding you? Reckon that’s what you begged me to do the last time we talked.” He spat out, shaking his head.

“I didn’t beg-” You bit your tongue. Now's not the time for your defensiveness. This is not the time for an argument.

You reminded yourself that and took a deep breath and swallowing your anger. Fred let out a breath of annoyance as you composed yourself.

“I’m not here to apologize.” You blurted out, your plan was now abandoned. Fred's face scrunched up for a second in confusion, you rummaged through your bag hanging from your shoulder, “I’d just thought you’d want this back.” You pulled out his hat, holding it up in between the two of you, your eyes on the ground.

Though you didn’t dare to look straight at him, you could see his posture soften in your peripheral vision. Wanting to get this over with you shook it at him, signaling for him to take it.

“You didn’t have to stop me out here, you should’ve just left this on my bed or something..” He trailed off as he reached out one arm, keeping the other tucked around him as he snatched the hat from you awkwardly.

Both of you stood there in silence for a moment, Fred looking at his returned hat, you adjusting the strap on your bag.

“Uh, cheers.” He gave you a tight lipped smile, turning and walking back to his original direction.

Okay, maybe it hadn’t gotten worse than it already was between you two, but it was sure as hell awkward now.

“So you didn’t do what you said you were going to do?” Cedric stared at you, expressionless.

“I didn’t say I was going to do it, I said I was thinking about it.” You shrugged. Cedric fully sat up in a swift manner, jaw ajar and eyes narrowed as he stared.

“You said you had a plan!” He then cried out. Oh, so he was listening and not just laughing at you earlier.

“To give him his hat back! Not beg for forgiveness.” You huffed, slouching against the tree. “Besides, he never begged for mine all those times.”

Always a battle between you two, Cedric wanted to say, but he knew that’d only tick you off more.

“Yeah? And what’d he do instead?” Cedric questioned, it made you feel suspicious about what he had to say.

“He’d just go back to annoying me.” You shrugged, a bit hesitant since you could see the cogs turning in his head.

“So why don’t you?” Cedric suggested, “Why don’t you go and bother him like he always did to you?”

You opened your mouth, stammered out something unintelligible, and closed it. You had hit a wall, all this time you’ve worried about when Fred would acknowledge your presence, you weren’t doing anything to get him to acknowledge it.

You can’t say Cedric’s got a point. You won’t admit to that.

“Because I’m happy he doesn’t bother me anymore, I’m not going to put an end to that! I enjoy him leaving me alone!” You crossed your arms, putting up your wall of defense.

“No you don’t.” Cedric let out a breath through his nose, his face was stoic, unamused.

“I do!”

“You’ve complained about it a million times since he has!” He exclaimed. “Oh, Fred did this! Fred said that! Fred bothered me in class! Fred pissed me off a the ball! Fred won’t talk to me! Fred doesn’t like me!” He mimicked, gesturing wildly with his hands.

Fine, maybe you had mentioned how Fred was now avoiding you in the past two months. Maybe those mentions of it spiraled into rants, rants that Cedric had to listen all about.

You just shook your head doubtingly, Cedric sighed and moved over. He slapped a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ve only seen people care this much about another person, about what they’re doing, what they’re saying, unless they loved them.” He grabbed onto both shoulders, holding on in the way coaches do when giving their players a pep talk.

“I have been your bestfriend for six years now.” He shook you slightly with each word, putting an euphemism on them. “And I have never, never, seen you care so much about another person. Maybe, you should think about that.” He gave a sympathetic smile, the silence letting his words sink in.

Nope. You weren’t going to let it.

“Piss off! I am not in love with him!” You wriggled out of his grasp. Cedric grumbled.

“You should think about it!” He repeated, putting his hands up in defense.

The bell rung for the next class. Cedric stood up, giving you a brotherly pat on the shoulder.

“Tell me how it goes, when you're stuck with him in the Gryffindor section of the pitch.”

“Tell me how winning feels, I’ll let you rub it in my face. Good luck Ced.” You smiled.

“Good luck, Y/N.”

The third task began at dusk, the sun beginning to set and casting a golden glow on everything.

Now it was pitch black outside, Fleur had been pulled out early, and it felt like there were no signs of the task being won by the other three anytime soon. Your leg bounced wildly up and down in anticipation. Angelina and Katie noticed, you could see them staring in the corner of your eye.

“Something feels wrong, it’s been nearly three hours.” You spoke out, resting your head in hand.

“It’s a twenty-foot-tall maze, it’s gonna take a while for them to figure it out. Especially with your thick headed loverboy.” Fred blurted out, voice laced with mockery. You hated it, you were only stuck near him because Angelina and Katie were.

“Will you stop calling him that? You don’t have to be so rude all the time.” You said, exasperated already.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Fred muttered as he eyed you.

“It is a giant maze with whatever is in there. It might take a while.” Angelina said in a nicer way than Fred, budding into your and his blooming debacle.

“I know, I’m just worried that something might go wrong. Like, what if something messes up?” You gestured, biting your nail.

“He’s made it out of the past two just fine, I’m sure he’ll make it out of this one charming as ever.” Fred blurted, earning pointed glances from Angelina and Katie.

You tried to ignore your anxieties, trying to focus on whatever Katie and Angelina were chatting about. But your eyes kept darting back to Fleur on the sidelines, and Freds shitty attitude towards you wasn’t helping. Godric, is this how he felt all the times you’ve been pissy to him?

She looked terrified when she got pulled out, the tear stains on her face were obvious. You could see her rambling to the teachers about something, causing some of them to blink and give each other concerned glances.

She had seen something.

“What’d you think happened to her?” Katie took a look at Fleur, who was now surrounded by a group of girls clearly trying to comfort her.

“Don’t know. Maybe it was just too much for her.” Angelina shrugged, letting out a disappointed breath.

“She looks horrified.” You thought out loud. Eyes now locked on Fleurs face.

“I would be too. Battling dragons? Having to swim in the black lake? Going through a dark maze in the cold? Seeing all that, I’m a bit glad my name wasn’t picked.” Angelina muttered, leaning back.

“You’d have to pay me more than a thousand galleons and a dumb cup to get me to swim with ze Grindylows.” Katie nudged, mimicking Fleurs accent, earning a small breathy laugh out of Angelina and you.

Awhile after Fleurs return, a loud whoosh was heard, you got a glimpse of Cedric and Harry falling into the ground together.

The entire stadium shot up from their seats, including you. There was an uproar of cheer and the band playing the classic march.

“Did you see? It’s Harry and Cedric! They got back at the same time!” Angelina shouted, still clapping.

“Oh don’t tell me it’s gonna be another tie!” Katie groaned out. Fred and George pushed past the three of you, already excitedly running down to the field. Angelina grabbed onto your and Katie’s hands, creating a chain to follow them.

By the time you were hopping down onto the grass, a harrowing scream came from Fleur, she cupped a hand over her mouth and looked away.

Before you got to the front of the already forming crowd around the two champions, you could tell something was off.

None of Cedrics friends were cheering, neither were Harrys. Even the twins were dead still and staring.

As you got closer to the front of everyone, the music stopped and the noise of the crowd died down. Going from cheers to concerned whispers. You could hear the sobs of someone.

“No! He’s back! He’s back!” It was Harry. His voice was hoarse and heavy.

Pushing your way between the twins, now standing in front of them, you could see what was going on.

“He’s dead!” Harry cried, clutching onto Cedric’s limp body when the teachers tried to pull him off.

Time felt slow, stopped, frozen. You didn’t cry, you didn’t scream, all you did was stare. Feet stuck to the ground, and it felt like the only thing you could do was watch with wide, terrified, and glossy eyes as Harry grasped onto your bestfriends body, sobbing over him.

“Diggory's dead!” A horrified voice from the stands yelled, causing the entire pitch to fill with gasps and more whispers.

Soon the sight took hold of you. The scratches and blood smudged around Cedric’s pale face, his wide open yet lifeless eyes, his body having no reaction to being shook and held onto.

He was dead. Cedric Diggory was dead. The boy you grew up with, the boy who you saw as blood, the boy who was your bestfriend, was dead.

Taking in a shaky breath and blinking away the tears that had formed in your eyes, you attempted to step back, stumbling a bit and bumping into Fred’s chest.

“Oh shit,” Fred looked down at you, noticing the stray tears that had fallen from your eyes, “Oh shit, don’t look. Don’t look.” He grabbed onto you. You unconsciously yet willingly turned your body to his, allowing him to wrap his arms around you, attempting to prevent you from staring at the sight in front of you any longer.

“Don’t look.” He repeated.

Everything after the night of the third task felt foggy. It was a blur. Hell, it was a blur since then.

Classes were canceled for the next few days. Most days blended into each other, even when classes resumed normally. It was all foggy.

Most days you weren’t focused on anything. Stuck in a weird state of dissociation. Everything felt static.

You didn't remember a word Dumbledore said at Cedric’s memorial in the Great Hall. You didn’t cry with the others, you just sat and stared.

Even though you were usually in a daze, you still noticed things. You heard what people would talk about. You had ears, you could still hear.

“I’m worried about her. I haven’t seen her cry or…do anything really.” Katie whispered to Katie once you got up from the table.

“I know. I mean, we all have our own ways of grieving, maybe this is just hers?” Angelina leaned over.

Of course your friends tried to talk to you, not about what happened. But have regular chats, though you didn’t add much to the conversation, single worded responses or a short sentence.

On the nights you couldn’t sleep, you sat in the common room. Usually staying there until you went back to your bed, staying awake and sleep deprived the next day until you fell asleep where you were sitting in the common room.

“Hold on, shhh.” Fred stopped George as they snuck back into the common room, returning from another late night run to Zonkos. Fred pointed you to, knocked out on the leather chair.

“Should we wake her up?” George whispered, looking over at your curled up position and closed eyes.

“No, let her sleep, she needs it. I don’t think I’ve seen her actually go to bed in days.”

You noticed the faces you got from others when you walked by.

Pitiful glances. Sympathetic smiles. Apologetic looks. You noticed it all. You hated it. You hated being reminded of it. You hated feeling this way.

A shell of yourself is what you felt like. When you walked through the halls you felt like you carried the same presence as one of the ghosts in the castle.

It’s been nearly two weeks since Cedric passed and you still found yourself doing things you normally did with Cedric.

Stopping in the hallway after McGonagall's class in hopes to talk with him before he went in. Skimming your eyes around the Hufflepuff table looking for him. Waiting in the Courtyard after the school day for him to stop by and chat.

It was strange. It was like your brain hadn’t processed that he was gone.

You often wandered around, going on walks to clear your mind, even though it never worked. You found new places to sit and hide at.

Tonight, it was the Astronomy Tower. Rarely anyone came up there this late, the cool wind on your face helped ground you, and you had a pretty damn good view of the starry sky. You’d get in trouble if you were caught out here, especially with the strict rules they enforced for the rest of the year after what happened at the tournament.

You sat against the planet structure in the middle of the tower, your back against the hard marble while you brought your legs up to your chest, resting your head on your knees and wrapping your arms around yourself.

Swaying yourself gently side to side, you stared at the sky, almost not catching the quick footsteps coming up the stairwell.

Fred appeared.

Fuck. Why is he here?

“Hey.” He greeted quietly, putting his hands in his front pockets once he felt the cold air hit them. “It’s pretty cold out here.”

You stared at him for a second, a bit confused on many things. He gave you an awkward smile.

“So, what’re you up to?” He rocked back and forth on his heels.

“Why are you here Fred?” You unraveled from your position. Your tone wasn’t mean, it wasn’t snarky or sarcastic, it was sad. Defeated. Fred noticed.

“I was looking for you.” He unraveled, “I was worried. Katie told me you weren’t in your bed or the common room. Her and Angelina were freaking out looking for you, they thought you might’ve…done something.” He mumbled the last few words.

You only stared at him for a few seconds through lidded eyes, an unamused look on your face.

“I'm not up here to throw myself off the astronomy tower, if that’s what you assumed.” You muttered, turning your gaze back to in front of you.

“No! No! Not at all! I didn’t assume that.” Fred squeaked, trying to defend himself, “I was just a bit concerned, is all.”

“Since when do you care?” You muttered, only paying attention to his last sentence. Fred spent the last two months hating you, but oh, now your bestfriend is dead and of course he feels guilty for being so mean.

“I just…I’m worr- a lot of us are worried about you.”

“You should be worried about Cho, I know I am. She’s doing worse than me.” You huffed, you weren’t trying to sound mean, you were telling the truth. You knew Cedric's death was tearing the poor girl apart, she was his girlfriend for Godrics sake.

“Yeah, she’s driving herself mad.” Fred tried to joke as he looked down, but failed. “She’s worried about you too though.” He said softly. You let out a small hum, picking at your pajama pants.

The both of you stayed there for a good few seconds, maybe a minute, silent and awkwardly keeping your eyes away from each other.

You took in a sharp breath, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know what to do.” You looked over to him, “What am I supposed to do? With everything?” Your voice cracked a tiny bit and it made you cringe. Did Fred know how to handle grief? Probably not, but he knew what you were asking.

“I don’t know.” Fred's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. You clenched your jaw to try and keep from crying.

Giving him a nod and tight-lipped smile at his response, you bit the inside of your cheek and turned your head away when a few stray tears fell.

This is the first time you’ve cried since Cedric’s death.

It was horrible. You hated that you were crying, and that Fred was there to see you so vulnerable, or that he was talking to you, but you didn’t think it mattered during that moment, you just needed comfort. You would really take any comfort too at this point.

“Can I sit?” He nodded to the empty spot next to you.

“I don’t care anymore.” You shook your head and shrugged weakly.

Fred walked over and sat a comfortable yet close distance next to you, his long legs bending at the knees.

“Can I ask you a question?” Fred played with a loose thread on his sweater, likely knitted by his mum.

“Sure.” You didn’t have the energy in you to say no, or be snippy towards him, you felt exhausted.

“Were you in love with Cedric?” Fred looked at you. You rolled your eyes and scoffed, a small bit of hope bloomed in Fred’s chest, he’d gotten a classic reaction out of you. You hadn’t become a shell of yourself, you were still you.

“No.” You let out a small, humorless laugh. “I know everyone thinks that. But I wasn’t. He was a brother more than anything.” Fred wanted to let you know not everyone thought that, mainly just him, he was just curious.

“He was too in love with himself,” You joked, “Always so cocky.” Fred noticed the way the ends of your mouth slightly curled up as you shook your head.

“Yeah? I always knew he was too thick headed for his own good. He’d probably use the reflection of the cup as a mirror.” He breathed out, a lighthearted attempt to make you laugh. It worked, somewhat. A slight smile appeared on your face as you let out small bits of laughter.

“I’m serious, Lee told me that he caught him posing in the sink mirrors in the prefects bathroom!” Fred began to laugh with you, as you laughed even harder, your body bending forward a bit due to it.

This is the first time he’s ever made you laugh.

His laughter was mostly confused. He was puzzled at how you could find that to be this funny, until your weak chuckles turned into strong sobs. You broke. Crying into your hands.

Fred wasn’t sure what to do at this moment. His way of comforting was humor, and it worked, but not the way he expected it to. So, he just hugged you, he actually hugged you.

He closed the small gap between your bodies and wrapped two long arms around you. And you let him. You didn’t hug him back, you just sobbed, letting your heavy limbs fall and lean yourself into him.

He had one arm wrapped around you, holding you tightly while the other was brushing his hand over your hair.

It was strange, you didn’t care that Fred Weasley was hugging you, holding you. You didn’t try to shove him off, or break out of his grasp, you were too exhausted to protest.

Instead, you shifted into a position where you could grasp onto him, you wrapped your arms around his lanky torso, crying into his chest, letting out heavy sobs that wracked your entire body.

You said his name through a sharp breath, Fred cupped your face with both hands as you brought your head up to look at him.

“Fred, I’m sorry.” You broke down again, “I’m so sorry.” You said through sobs.

“Shh, it’s alright. Save all that for later. It’s alright.” He shushed you, pulling you back into your cradling position again.

If you told yourself from just a few months ago that this was happening. You would’ve never believed it. You would’ve never thought it’d be a real moment between you two.

But tonight, it was, it was real, it was happening, you were crying on the top of the astronomy tower while Fred Weasley, out of all people, held you.

You tried to apologize, and you sobbed into his chest while Fred Weasley, raked his fingers through your hair and held you.

tell me what you thought here! <3 or ask tba to the taglist for this series!

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[thesassypadawan]

Christmas Cookies (Leo x WifeReader)

Summary:  After successfully putting down the kiddos for the night, you decide to use this quiet time to get some baking done.  Too bad your cookie loving husband insists on supervising and taste testing.  But he really can’t make a proper judgement call until he gets some milk to go with those Christmas cookies.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut.  One thirsty big chooch (lactation), lots of yummy cookies, some cheesy holiday music, making a mess on the counter (in your ‘slutty elf’ panties), hints of a dad bod, and… Leo’s big, fat dick.

Notes:  Happy Holidays, lovelies!  Welcome to track one of my special holiday mix, Christmas Cookies! (This wonderful, amazing request came from @gummifrogs! Thank you so much for letting me write this, I had so much fun!) ❤️💚

- “Oi, big chooch!  Get outta there!”  Jokingly you scold, playfully giving Leo a gentle whack on his knuckles.  On his cute bottom with the wooden spoon.  “Save some for the kids…me…the baby!”

- “Can’t help that they’re so good,” he chuckles between bites.  Big, childish grin on his face; frosting tinting his lips and tongue a faint green.  “Plus it’s those sympathy cravings, mio angelo.”  Boldly going for what has to easily be his twelfth cookie of the afternoon.  “Makes me want to gobble them all…oof!  Hey, watch that thing!”

- Expecting another little smack from the confectionary weapon, you catch him off guard instead with a bigger one from your own plump backside.  “Opps, sorry…”  Taunting, shaking it teasingly as you bend to pop another batch into the oven.  “…wide load coming through.”

- Not able to resist a perfect opportunity, he more than happily gets himself a generous handful.  Earning himself a small squeak in response.  “No complaints here.”  While also helping himself to that elusive Santa shaped cutout he had his eye on.  And a second, just to take make it an even baker’s dozen in his slightly soft stomach.  “Except there’s somethin’ missin’ that would make these taste so much better.”

- Knowing your husband all too well and exactly where this was heading towards.  You figure why not, wouldn’t hurt to have a bit of some jolly fun.  “Leo, I swear to all that’s holey.  If you say what I think you’re going to…”

- However your warning isn’t much of a threat, sort of lacks that certain bite necessary.  When you’re pushing up, grinding against…feeling his fat length harden and dig into your lower back.  Getting the next sheet prepared and ready to go…listening to his muffled grunts the entire time.

- Finished with his treat and, most likely, wanting to just cut to the chase.  He places a big hand on your shoulder, the other on your plush hip.  Slowly swaying you both to that familiar holiday tune, humming above you. “What?  I was only gonna say that they go so much better with some…milk.  Think ya could help me with that?”

- There it was…  “Milk, huh?”  Wiping your palms off on the nearby dishrag, nudging the tray off to the side…before you turn in his hold.  “Yeah, I might be able to spare some.”  Arms winding around his thick middle, as you press your engorged chest into him.  The damp, soaked fabric of your ‘borrowed’ shirt sticking to his.  “But you got fifteen thou-”

- “Deal…”  Not letting you finish and certainly not needing any further encouragement, he grabs your squishy globes.  Hoisting you onto the flour and sprinkle covered counter, like you weigh nothing.  “…ya sure it can only be-”

- “Fifteen…”  Reaching, you break a piece off from a recently iced one.  Pressing it to, slipping it past his lips.  “I don’t want the batch burning…don’t need you drinking all of the twins late night feeding.  Got it?”

- “Got it…”  Happily chewing away, he slots his larger frame between your legs.  Caging you in with a strong arm, leaning in close.  Peppering and smothering your cheeks, nose, forehead in loving kisses.  “Ya have my word…”

- “Promise…”  Lightly calloused fingertips smooth over, caress your adorable tummy.  Leaving behind powdery, white smudges and prints as they come to fiddle…tug at your hem.  Before lifting, pulling it off and up over your head.  Letting it drop carelessly to the tiled floor  “Little mama…”

- Warm palm cups and massages a heavy, tender breast.  Wet nipples pebble from the cool, hot air of your tiny kitchen.  Milk leaking, fat droplets trickling…coating Leo’s long digits.  While you coo, mewl softly…while his kisses trail lower and lower.  “Mmmh, heard that about a hundred times.”

- “Don’t know what ya talkin’ about,” Leo replies not so innocently.  Breath washing over, causing goosebumps to rise on your taut skin.  “All I’m hearin’ ya say is…”  Nose bumping, nudging…tongue swirling, lapping at your sore nub.  “…buon appetito.”

- Like a man parched, acting like he hasn’t had a drink in days…he eagerly latches on.  That all too familiar letdown feeling spreading through your bloated tit as he sucks hungrily.  Head titled to the side so sweetly, blissful look on his handsome face.  Your hand cradling, scratching the back lightly with your festive nails.  “Yeah, yeah…”

- It takes just a few pulls from his greedy mouth for that warm, tingling sensation to start growing.  Small gasp escaping you, low groan from him.  The kind that rumbles in his chest, into you…straight to your trembling, fluttering cunny. Rich cream filling, spreading across his tastebuds with each deep draw.  “Buon…”

- Head lulls back, soft pants fall from your lips.  Shivers and sparks of pleasure running rampant, erupting throughout your overly sensitive body.  From his fingers circling your other, neglected bud.  Teasing out a few milky beads that plop onto, roll down the swell of your bump.  “Appetito…”

- Each rhythmic pull and suckle pushes you closer to that orgasmic edge.  Floods your system with all those lovely endorphins.  That cloud and fog your hormone, addled brain.  Causes you to be hot and sticky in more ways than one.  Digits tangling in those short, dark locks…silently coaxing him on, to keep drinking.  “Amore mio…”

- And right as you’re about to reach that blinding apex.  Create a pretty mess on the counter and in those ‘slutty elf’ panties of yours.  Air fills with the timer’s happy beeps.  Your frustrated huffs from being left half full.  The wet pop when he releases your puffy, soggy nipple…

- “That’s it, sugar…out of time,” he mutters.  Gazing up at you with those sparkling blue eyes, mischievous glint sparkling in them.  Clearly enjoying, taking amusement from your flushed face and flustered expression.  “But I got an idea for ya.”

- Licking his lips, his digits clean.  “How about we pop another batch in the oven…”  Slowly, savoring…making sure to get every last drop.  “Get another fifteen for some kissin’ and a huggin’.”

- Shakily grabbing the prepped sheet next to, pushing it into his hands.  You let out an exasperated giggle, returning his naughty look.  “And that’s why you eat Christmas cookies all year long.”

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