#i can move threads over there if you want!!

[blairenqs]

୨୧ FIRST KISS ✧ SPENCER REID

───── IN WHICH 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 !

𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗂𝖽 𝓍 𝒻! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝟣.𝟢𝖪 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌��𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 ♡ ⎯⎯ 𝖠𝖱𝖢𝖧𝒾𝖵𝖤

YOU HAVE BEEN SEEING spencer reid for about three months now, and it still felt so weirdly surreal.

working at the bau was a challenging task enough, but falling for someone as brilliant, kind, and utterly endearing as spencer reid had added a whole new layer to your life.

it wasn’t something you planned—it never was in a place like the bau, where the cases were tough and heavy, and relationships were rare to have.

but spencer was different.

he wasn’t like anyone else. his shy smiles, his awkward rambles about random facts, the way he held his coffee mug with both hands like it was the most precious thing in the world—it all had you wrapped around his finger before you even realized it.

he didn’t seem to know the effect he had on you, and that only made him more charming—you’ve never been able to resist his soft, hesitant energy, and now that you were dating, you couldn’t help but indulge in the affection you felt for him. —READ MORE!

you had a soft spot for him—a big one. and tonight, after another sweet date, that affection bubbled out in over in a way neither of you quite expected.

spencer walked you to your apartment door, just as he always did—it was one of the many little things he did that showed you how thoughtful he was, even if he tried to play it ‘cool���.

his hand rested gently at your back as you approached the door, his warmth radiating through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“this was really nice,” he said softly, his voice laced with that nervous energy you found so endearing. he rocked back on his heels, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat as he looked at you through his lashes.

“i mean, i know we’ve only been to that restaurant once before, but statistically, the likelihood of it becoming ‘our spot’ is… probably high.”

you smiled, biting back a laugh. “i like the sound of that a lot, our spot.”

his face lit up at your words, the corners of his lips pointing into a bashful grin that made your heart flutter.

spencer reid, the genius profiler with an iq of 187 and an eidetic memory, could still blush like a schoolboy when you said something sweet to him.

“good,” he said quietly, his voice a soft whisper. his gaze lingered on you, his brown eyes warm and unwavering, and for a moment—the world around you two seemed to fade away.

you felt a surge of affection rise in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and kissed him.

it was a short kiss, just a gentle press of your lips against his, but it was enough to send spencer into a complete slump.

when you pulled back, he stood there frozen, his eyes wide and his lips parted as if he was trying to form words but couldn’t.

you giggled softly at his shyness, taking a step back toward your door. “goodnight, spence.”

but before you could turn the handle, his hand shot out to gently grab your wrist. you turned back to him—surprised, and found him looking at you with an expression you couldn’t figure out.

shy—yes, but there was something else there too, something that clouded the room with no words.

“c-can i… can i kiss you again?” he stammered, his voice unsteady and shaking with nervousness. your heart melted on the spot. “you can do whatever you want, spence.”

that was all the encouragement he needed—his hands came up to cup your face, his long fingers threading gently into your hair as he leaned in and kissed you.

this time it wasn’t just a quick, hesitant peck. it was soft and slow, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak.

you responded immediately, your hands finding their way to his chest as you leaned into him—his touch was careful at first, hesitant, as if he was afraid of doing it wrong.

but as the kiss deepened, he grew more confident. his hands slipped down to your neck, his thumbs brushing your jawline as he tilted your head just slightly to get a better angle.

you sighed into the kiss, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his sweater—his lips were impossibly soft, and he tasted faintly of the honey he��d stirred into his tea earlier.

every little thing about him made your heart race and you couldn’t help but tug gently at his hair—resulting in a soft, surprised sound from him.

it was like a spark had been lit. spencer’s grip on your neck tightened just slightly, his fingers digging in with a new kind of urgency that sent a shiver down your spine.

he kissed you harder, his movements reckless and desirable, like he couldn’t get enough of you. you weren’t much better. your hands slid up to his shoulders, then around to the back of his neck, your fingers threading through his hair.

you pulled him closer, your bodies pressed together as the kiss grew more heated. “spence,” you whispered against his lips, breathless.

he pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to catch his breath—his eyes were half-lidded, his cheeks flushed, and his lips red and swollen from kissing.

he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, and it made your heart ache in the best way.

“do you…” you hesitated, your voice a soft whisper as you ran your fingers through his hair. “do you want to stay the night?”

spencer blinked, his lips parting as he processed your words. and then, in a voice so sure it made your stomach flip, he said—“absolutely.”

a giddy laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it—and he smiled, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he kissed you again, soft and sweet and full of unspoken words.

the night was just beginning, but as far as you were concerned—you’d already found your favorite part. spencer reid was yours.

𝖱𝖤𝖡𝖫𝖮𝖦𝖲 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖣 ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

© blairenqs 2025 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

✧ 𝑓. i’m so stressed with school rn oh my god 😭 send help plz. also thank u guys for 100 followers already !! 🥹🫶 i’m so honoured with all the support hehe <3 also this was inspired by early seasons spencer if u couldn’t tell 😔 #imissmyshaylaaaa

𓂃ㅤ 𝓉𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ୨୧ @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat @lcvealwayss @viennasolace ♡ thank you so much for joining !

[dulcescorderitas]

first i want to say, i love your work and if its not a bother can i request a smutty Sam Winchester fic, where Sam is whiny and needy before sex, then during, he's dominant and taking control, and after, he's all cuddly and stuff?

notes: thank you so much, i'm glad you like it!! and it's def not a bother 🌸

sam is restless, shifting on the bed beside you, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. his long fingers drum against your thigh, fidgety, impatient. every few minutes, he huffs, shifting closer, pressing his face against your shoulder, nosing at your skin. needy.

“baby,” he murmurs, voice already thick, already wrecked, even though you haven’t done anything yet. his lips graze your neck, breath hot, fingers twitching where they clutch at your waist. “need you.”

you hum, dragging your fingers through his hair, tugging just a little at the roots. his breath stutters, a quiet, desperate whimper spilling from his lips. fuck, he’s so sensitive, so eager for you, and it sends heat curling through your stomach.

“what do you need, sammy?” you ask, voice teasing, knowing exactly what he wants but making him say it anyway.

he groans, pushing closer, his hips shifting against yours, already half-hard and rutting against you like he can’t help it. “you,” he breathes. “i need you so so bad. please.”

you press a kiss to his temple, reveling in the way he shivers under your touch. but you don’t give in—not yet. you make him wait, make him squirm, until he’s practically vibrating with want, his fingers digging into your skin, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his cock pressing insistently against you through his jeans.

but you give him what he wants.

when you finally push him onto his back, straddling his hips, his whole body tenses beneath you, his hands gripping at your thighs, his pupils blown wide with lust. his fingers dig into your flesh, squeezing, dragging you closer, grinding you down against him. his hands move up your sides firmly, and when he flips you over, pressing you into the mattress, it’s with an effortless strength that leaves you breathless.

“tease,” he growls, and before you can respond, his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding. his kiss is all-consuming, his body pressing you down, pinning you like he owns you, like he’s staking his claim.

his hands make quick work of your clothes, tearing them off with a kind of desperation that makes your head spin. his lips trail fire down your neck, your chest, his breath heavy, his control hanging by a thread. his teeth scrape at your skin, sucking bruises into your flesh like he wants to mark every inch of you.

when he finally pushes inside you, stretching you open, filling you in a way that makes you whimper, he stills for just a second, sucking in a sharp breath, savoring the way you clench around him. but then he moves, slow at first, rolling his hips, dragging out every sensation until you’re panting, gasping, clawing at his back, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

then he sets the pace—deep, hard, relentless.

he takes control, grips your wrists and pins them above your head, his breath ragged against your ear. he murmurs filth into your skin, praises and demands in equal measure, his voice rough, needy, claiming you over and over until all you can do is take it, take him. his fingers find your clit, rubbing in tight circles, pushing you closer, until your body shudders beneath him, your orgasm ripping through you as he follows with a deep, guttural groan, spilling into you, his body shaking with the force of it.

when you both crash over the edge, it’s almost too much—his grip tightens, his body trembles, and you feel everything, the intensity, the raw, desperate pleasure of it all.

and then—

complete softness.

sam collapses against you, breath still heavy, but his arms wrap around you, pulling you close, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. his lips press gentle kisses along your shoulder, your collarbone, wherever he can reach. his fingers trace soothing patterns against your skin, his body warm, solid, anchoring you.

“you okay?” he whispers, voice softer now, sweeter, and when you nod, he smiles, pressing his forehead against yours. his fingers stroke your sides, grounding, reassuring, filled with the kind of love he struggles to put into words.

“love you, baby,” he murmurs, and it’s so tender, so full of everything he can’t always say, that your heart clenches in your chest.

he holds you, keeps you close, and for the rest of the night, he doesn’t let go, his breathing slow and steady against your skin.

tags: @soldiersgirl @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @bocadelinfierno @sunnyteume

[luvst4rc0r3]

"Hold Still, Please"

Jinx x GN!Reader

Warnings:Reader is hurt

WC:575

Note:This has been in my drafts for like 2 weeks by now.

The room was dimly lit, the faint hum of Zuan’s machinery echoing in the background as Jinx paced back and forth. The harsh clatter of medical supplies hitting the metal table was the only other sound. You sat on the edge of the worn-out mattress, biting back a wince as blood seeped through the tear in your side.

“Stay still!” Jinx snapped, her voice sharp but trembling. Her hands hovered over the gauze, shaking so much she dropped it twice. “You’re making it worse, stop moving!”

“Jinx,” you started softly, but she cut you off.

“No! Don’t ‘Jinx’ me right now! You—you’re bleeding, and it’s a lot, and it’s not stopping, and—” Her voice broke into a shaky exhale as she clutched her head. “You weren’t supposed to get hurt. You said you’d be fine.”

You swallowed hard, guilt blooming in your chest. “I am fine. It’s just a scratch—”

“A SCRATCH?!” She whirled around, her wild eyes meeting yours. “That’s not a scratch, that’s—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her palms to her temples, pacing again. “What if I can’t fix this? What if I—what if you—”

She didn’t finish, but the panic was clear in her voice. The idea of losing you was clawing at her, louder and louder, drowning out anything else.

“Jinx.” Your tone was firmer this time, snapping her attention back to you. “Come here.”

She hesitated, her hands trembling at her sides, but you didn’t wait. You reached out, gently grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer.

“Breathe,” you murmured, guiding her hand to your chest. “Feel that? I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her breath hitched as her fingers pressed against the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. “But you could’ve… you could’ve died,” she whispered, her voice small and broken. “And I—I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

“You’re not losing me,” you said firmly, cupping her cheek with your free hand. “I’m here, Jinx. But I need you to focus, okay? Help me patch this up so we can keep it that way.”

She sniffled, nodding slightly, though her hands were still shaking. “Okay. Okay, I can do this.”

You smiled, brushing a strand of blue hair out of her face. “I know you can. You’re the smartest, most badass girl I know.”

That earned you a shaky laugh, though it quickly dissolved into her biting her lip, focusing intently as she grabbed the gauze again. She worked quickly but carefully this time, her fingers steadier as she pressed it to your wound.

“You scared me,” she admitted softly, not meeting your eyes.

“I know,” you said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded, swallowing hard as she tied off the bandage. “Don’t do it again.”

“I’ll try,” you teased lightly, and she glared at you with watery eyes before leaning in to press her forehead to yours.

“You better,” she muttered. “Because I’m not ready to lose you, and I never will be.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised again, your fingers threading through hers. “I’m always yours, Jinx.”

Her lips quirked into a faint smile, though her eyes stayed misty. “Good. Because if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’m tying you to the bed so you can’t leave.”

You snorted softly, pulling her into a hug. “Deal.”

For now, the pain in your side was nothing compared to the relief of holding her close.

Short and sweet

I want food

[mapis-putellas]

𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓/𝑰.𝑬𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒏 𝒙 𝑴.𝑳𝒆𝒐𝒏

This has some Mapi in it. Don’t feel obligated to read if you don’t wanna

Ingrid’s fingers move slowly up and down your spine, tracing aimless patterns over the fabric of her hoodie that you’ve claimed as your own. Her other hand is curled around your hip, keeping you pressed against her as you lie sprawled across her chest on the couch. It’s quiet, peaceful. The kind of rare, uninterrupted silence that only happens when Mapi isn’t home.

You love Mapi. Love her more than you ever thought possible. But Mapi is Mapi, and Mapi doesn’t do still. She doesn’t do quiet. She does prodding and teasing and exaggerated sighs when she’s bored and dramatically flopping onto you and Ingrid when she wants attention. It’s adorable, it’s her, but it’s also exhausting sometimes.

So when she left for the weekend, you’d missed her immediately, but you’d also secretly relished the stillness. The extra bit of uninterrupted Ingrid time.

Ingrid shifts slightly beneath you, her chest rising with a deep breath as her fingers continue their slow, lazy movements. “You’re thinking too much,” she murmurs, voice low and accented in a way that makes warmth pool in your stomach.

You hum against her, nuzzling further into her. “Am not.”

“You are,” she counters. “I can feel it.”

You huff a soft laugh, but she’s right. She usually is.

You tilt your head to look up at her, chin resting on her sternum. “Miss her?”

She exhales a small breath through her nose, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Mmm.”

You study her for a second. “But you like the quiet too.”

The tiny smile turns into a proper one, eyes twinkling just slightly. “Mmm.”

You grin, stretching up just enough to press a kiss to her chin before relaxing back down against her. “Me too.”

She chuckles softly, her hand drifting up from your spine to thread lazily through your hair.

Neither of you speak for a while, just lying there, breathing in sync, soaking in the rare, undisturbed moment of peace.

Then your phone vibrates against Ingrid’s stomach, the buzz breaking the quiet. You groan dramatically, not bothering to move as you blindly pat around for it. Ingrid sighs, reaching down and grabbing it for you.

“Mapi,” she says before even looking, because of course it is.

You huff a laugh as you take it from her, unlocking the screen to see a string of messages.

MAPI

MI AMORRRR

Princesa says she misses me 🥹

You miss me too, no?

I bet Ingrid is enjoying her break from me 😏

TELL HER SHE CAN’T REPLACE ME

I’M IRREPLACEABLE

I’M A NATIONAL TREASURE

You roll your eyes, grinning as you type back.

YOU

We were just talking about how much we miss you, actually

Ingrid too, though she won’t admit it

A second later, your phone vibrates again.

MAPI

LIARRRRR

Put me on video NOW

You sigh, pushing up onto your elbows. “She wants to FaceTime.”

Ingrid groans. “Of course she does.”

You smirk, hitting the video call button before flopping back onto Ingrid’s chest. She huffs when the weight of you presses down on her again, but she doesn’t move.

Mapi answers immediately. “MIS AMORES.”

She’s grinning, all teeth and dimples, nose scrunched just slightly. Her hair is damp, messy, like she’s just come out of the shower, and she’s wrapped in a hoodie that you’re fairly sure belongs to Ingrid.

“You’re drunk,” you accuse, eyeing the slight flush on her cheeks.

“I am not,” she gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “How dare you.”

Ingrid snorts. “You’re slurring your words, Maria.

Mapi squints at her through the screen, face pulling into a pout. “Princesa, why must you betray me like this?”

“Because it’s easy,” Ingrid deadpans.

You laugh, tilting the phone down slightly so Mapi can see you better. “Are you having fun?”

She brightens instantly, nodding. “Sí! We went to this-“ She pauses, turning her head to yell something in rapid Spanish to someone in the background. You hear laughter, a few indistinct replies, before she turns back to the camera. “This bar, and there was karaoke -real karaoke, not that fake one where they mute the mic-“

“Did you sing?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“OBVIO.”

You grin. “What song?”

Mapi opens her mouth to answer but then stops, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Are you two cuddling?”

You blink. “Uh…yes?

Her eyes narrow even more. “Without me?”

“You’re literally in another country,” Ingrid points out, unimpressed

Mapi huffs, crossing her arms. “You’re replacing me.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Ingrid mutters, exasperated.

You snicker. “We would never replace you.”

Mapi points a finger at Ingrid. “Say it, Princesa.”

Ingrid sighs heavily. “Mapi-“

“SAY IT.”

Ingrid tilts her head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling like she’s calling for divine intervention. Then, finally, she relents. “You are irreplaceable.”

Mapi grins smugly. “Damn right.”

You giggle, shifting so you can tuck your face into Ingrid’s neck.

Mapi watches you both for a moment, then sighs. “Okay. I go now. I just had to make sure you weren’t too happy without me.”

“We’re miserable,” you deadpan.

“Good,” she says, blowing a dramatic kiss. “I love you both. Goodnight.”

“Night, love you,” you say, and Ingrid mumbles a soft, “I love you too,” before Mapi hangs up.

You stare at the phone for a second, then glance up at Ingrid.

“She’s going to be so hungover.”

Ingrid hums. “Good. She deserves it.”

You giggle, tossing your phone onto the coffee table before settling back against her. “Still miss her though.

Ingrid sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Me too.”

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[insidekatmind]

Stepfather~Cho Sang-woo

Wearning: +18,smut, cheating, age-gap

The air in the house is thick, electric, as if something invisible but powerful was moving between the walls. Since your mother married Sang-Woo, everything has changed. He is not like other men his age: there is a dark elegance in his movements, a sharp intelligence in his gaze. He observes you often, with those dark eyes that seem to dig into you.At first you thought it was just your imagination. You told yourself that he was normal, that he was just your mother's husband. But the more time passed, the more you felt something strange inside you. A shiver every time he touched you, a racing heart when his gaze rested on you for longer than it should have.

One evening, everything changes.

You come home late, the soft light illuminates the living room. He is there, sitting with a glass of whiskey between his fingers, his face relaxed but his eyes fixed on you."You should be more careful, you know?" His voice is low, caressing, as if each word is a thread that wraps around you.You swallow, but you don’t move. There’s something in the way he looks at you, something that keeps you rooted to the floor.

“Were you waiting for me?” you whisper, not even knowing where that question came from. He smiles, tilting his head slightly. “What if that’s the case?”

Your breathing becomes shallow. You tell yourself that you should leave, lock yourself in your room and pretend that nothing is happening. But his gaze is a magnet and you’re not sure you want to resist.

Then he gets up, slowly, like a predator who knows that the prey won’t run away. He passes by you, barely touching you, and your body responds before your mind does. You can’t breathe.“Goodnight.” His voice is a whisper in your ear before he disappears into the shadows of the hallway.

“Wait,” you call as you adjust your little dress. Sang-woo stops in his tracks, his back to you, and for a second you think he's going to ignore you and keep walking. But he doesn't. He turns, slowly, and you can see the glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. "What is it?" he asks, his voice low and quiet. There is a hint if amusement in his tone, as if he were already aware of the effect he has on you.

"Why were you waiting for me?" You ask, moving closer to him. Sang-woo doesn't move, but you can see his gaze slide over your body, taking in the way your little dress hugs your curves. Despite yourself, you shiver under his gaze.

"I was worried," he says, his eyes locking onto yours. "You know it’s not safe for a girl your age to be out so late."His words sound so sincere, so protective. But you know there’s another meaning hidden in them.

You’re even closer now, almost touching him. You can feel the heat radiating from his body. "I can take care of myself," you say, your voice soft and sure.

Sang-woo smiles, a slow, dangerous smile that makes your knees weak."I know you can. But that doesn’t mean I won’t worry." He takes a step closer. "Or that I won’t enjoy the view."

Your breath catches in your throat as he leans in, his face mere inches from yours.

"I’m very observant," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. "I notice things that others don’t."You look away, not wanting him to see the effect he’s having on you. But he takes your chin in his hand and gently forces you to meet his gaze.

"Don't look away," he says, his voice a command. His fingers slide from your chin to your cheek, tracing a line of fire on your skin. His thumb brushes your bottom lip, and you shiver involuntarily. "You have such lovely lips."

Sang woo puts a finger in your mouth.You let out a soft gasp, your body jerking in surprise as his finger slides past your lips, your tongue instinctively slipping against it. It feels wrong, so wrong, but you can’t seem to stop yourself.Sang-woo watches you, his eyes dark, a smirk playing on the edge of his lips. “I didn't even have to ask you."You want to protest, to spit out his finger and walk away, but the way he looks at you, with desire and something else, makes you freeze.

His finger traces a slow, lazy trail on your tongue, moving further into your mouth, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips. His other hand tightens its grip on your waist, pulling you even closer until you’re pressed against him, your bodies molded together.Sang-woo’s breathing is ragged, his face mere inches from yours, his gaze fixed on your lips.

Sang woo adds another finger into your mouth and you suck them. You’re lost in a sea of sensations, your mind clouded by everything that’s happening. You can’t think, can’t understand what you’re doing. All you can feel is desire, hot and raw, burning through you like a fire.

Sang-woo lets out a low groan as you suck on his fingers, his eyes dark and clouded with lust. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, the words barely more than a breath.His hand on your waist tightens, pulling you even closer, until there’s not even a millimeter of space between you.

His fingers slide out of your mouth with a wet pop, glistening in the low light of the room. Sang-woo grabs you again, spinning you around until your back is pressed against the wall, trapping you between the cold surface and his hard body.His lips find your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your collarbone. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” His voice is rough, edged with an almost desperate need.

You can feel the fire spreading through your veins, a mixture of desire and guilt fighting for control. Every touch, every word he whispers against your skin only fuels the fire, until you’re not sure who’s in control anymore.His mouth finds yours, claiming it in a deep, hungry kiss. It’s possessive, demanding, and you surrender to it, your body melting against his.You moan into the kiss and return it with more passionate love. The world around you fades away as you lose yourself in the kiss. Sang-woo responds with equal passion, his tongue tangling with yours in a dance that’s both familiar and new.

His hands roam over your body, touching and exploring, as if he’s trying to memorize every dip and curve. You can feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of your dress, a stark contrast to the coolness of the wall against your back.

He breaks away from the kiss and caresses your ass. "Turn around and bend over for daddy." He whispers close to your ear as he playfully slaps your butt. His words ignite something deep within you, a shiver running down your spine as you obey, turning around and pressing your body against the wall. You can feel the coolness of the surface against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from your body.Sang-woo takes a step closer, his body almost touching yours, and you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. "That's my girl," he murmurs, his hand sliding down your body and grabbing your hip.Sang woo lifts your dress and hums satisfied seeing your beautiful ass in the lace thong. He gives a satisfied smile and plays with your thong "I dream about this beautiful ass at night, you know princess,every time you wear those micro dresses. You drive me crazy" Sang woo whispered as he continued to play with the elastic.

His words send another shiver down your spine, your body responding to his touch like a puppet on a string. The way he manipulates your thong, teasing it without touching your skin, is both torture and pleasure."I... didn't realize," you manage to say, your voice trembling. "I just.. I just like wearing them."

Sang woo slaps your ass. "Don't lie princess." The sudden sting of his hand against your skin makes you gasp, but it's not an unpleasant sensation. It only heightens the tension between you, the game of power and desire that you're both playing.

"I—I'm not lying," you protest, but it comes out as a weak whimper.

Sang-woo chuckles, a dark, mocking sound. “You thought I wouldn’t notice? You thought you could tease me, wear those little dresses, and I wouldn’t notice?” He leans closer, his body pressing against yours. “But I did. I saw everything.”His words send another wave of heat through you, your body responding to his tone almost subconsciously. You’re trapped, your body against the wall and Sang-woo so close behind you that you can feel the heat radiating from his skin.

"Do you know how many times I had to jerk off because of you?" Sang Woo growls. His voice is low, rough with desire, and the words make your face flush. "I—I didn't know," you say, your words sounding weak and uncertain.

Sangwoo chuckles, the sound low and dangerous. "Of course you didn't. But I did. Every time I saw you, every time you walked past me with that little dress, I had to stop myself from pulling you into the closest room and taking you right then and there."He leans closer, his mouth just behind your ear. "I'd lie in bed, thinking of you, your body underneath mine... it was torture." His hand glides down your hip, fingertips tracing a lazy path along your thigh. "But now, princess... now you're all mine."Sang woo unbuttons his pants and boxers as he rub his hard cock on your thong.

You gasp softly and try to grind on his erection but he stops you. "No princess, you stay still and take everything that daddy gives you" He whispers and rubs himself a little more, humming with satisfaction.You sigh and nod. Sang woo smiled at your obedience. “Good girl,” he whispers and you moan.He smirks and begins to lift the string of your thong and begins to position his cock inside your underwear, jerking himself off with the underwear you were wearing and grunts.

“Please” you murmur desperately wanting him inside you but Sang woo wasn’t listening. He rubbed his cock across the crack of your ass without going inside and you moaned softly as he grunted.Sang woo only let the tip of his cock into you making you moan softly. “Please” you whisper desperately. He chuckles amusedly and moves it inside you for a while before taking it off again and wanking himself on the thong you're wearing. “Princess I won't fuck you until you beg me” Sang woo hums arrogantly.

“Please daddy” you murmur and he pretends to think about it.Sang woo squeezes your ass humming in satisfaction. "Give me a blowjob and I'll think about it" he whispers rubbing against your entrance and you moan.

Sang-woo smiles as he hears you, his hands still teasing you. "You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs against your ear. "So desperate for me."He slaps your ass making you jump. "If you want my cock you have to earn it, kneel down and suck it" Sang woo orders you.

You whimper softly, your body responding to his tone, and you find yourself slowly sinking to your knees, looking up at him with a mixture of desire and submission.Sang-woo looks at you smiling, putting a hand on your hair. "So beautiful kneeling for my cock" he purrs.

You feel a shiver goes down your spine at his words, looking up at him with big eyes. The heat from your desire and the anticipation of what was to come make your head spin."Open your mouth" he orders, his voice rougher than any before. You're caught in the moment, hypnotized by the tone of his voice as you do as told and open your mouth, your tongue licking your lips.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark and filled with lust. "Good girl." Sang woo in one fell swoop makes his cock enter your mouth and you gasp.

Sang woo throws his head back. “Such a nice, warm mouth,” he murmurs in satisfaction, moving his hips back and forth.You look at him and start licking him and twirling his length back and forth. You groaned seeing his facial expressions, he was so sexy and you were jealous of your mom for all the times she had him.

“Well done keep going” He hums in satisfaction as he gripped onto your hair and thrusts his hips faster.You start sucking his cock faster and he growls slamming your cock faster, cumming down your throat. You were still on your knees looking at him longingly.

Sang woo lifts you up as he pulls up his boxers and pants and sits on the chair carrying you on his lap. You rest your head on his shoulder, your body still trembling from the intense experience. Your mind is fuzzy, your thoughts consumed by him. He runs his fingers through your hair, a surprisingly gentle gesture that contradicts his earlier behavior.

“Please fuck me,” you murmur, your head resting on his chest. Sang woo smiles and shakes his head. “Another day,” he murmurs. You pout, but there's a hint of satisfaction in his voice that makes you shiver. "Another day?" you repeat, the words coming out as a needy whine.

Sang-woo chuckles, his hand sliding down your back, his touch possessive. "Impatient, aren't we? Don't worry, princess... I'll give you what you want. But not now."

"Why?" you ask desperately and he smiled. "Take it as a punishment for going out in that short dress and coming home late." He says looking at you. Your face flushes at his words, a mixture of shame and arousal washing over you. You open your mouth to protest, to argue that you hadn't done anything wrong, but then his gaze darkens and you fall silent."You know what you did," he says, his hand gripping your hip tighter as he pulls you even closer. "Don't think I didn't notice you. And now you'll have to pay the consequences."

You sigh and cling to him. At that moment your mother comes down and smiles seeing you in his arms. "I see you've finally started to appreciate him" your mother says happily to you. You look at your mother, feeling a strange mix of guilt and shame. The whole situation feels surreal, as if you're living a double life. You try to hide your feelings behind a smile, pretending that everything is perfectly normal.

Sang-woo, on the other hand, is the picture of tranquility. He smiles politely at your mother, his hand on your thigh, a subtle sign of possession that only you can perceive.

"Sang woo, it's not as bad as I thought" you say to your mom as you look at Sang woo who gives you a smirk.Your mother beams, clearly pleased with your words. "I knew you'd come around," she says, completely oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between you and Sang-woo.Sang-woo glances at you, a hint of amusement in his eyes at your mother's ignorance. He squeezes your thigh slightly, as if to remind you who's really in control here.

"She's a smart girl," Sang-woo agrees, his voice polite and pleasant. "She just needed a little convincing."

Your mother smiles, completely fooled by his charm. You, on the other hand, can feel the pressure of his hand on your thigh, a constant reminder of his power over you.

[marscardigan]

family line, part vii

ellie williams x fem!reader

family line masterlist

summary: falling in love with ellie was easy. it was harder to hate her once you knew she was the one hunting your sister.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: this fic doesn’t follow the original plot of the last of us part ii. canon typical violence. no use of y/n.

The world felt distant.

Your body was heavy, your head throbbed, the steady pulse of pain syncing with the dull ringing in your ears. Every breath was shallow, slow, like your lungs had forgotten how to work properly.

It took effort just to open your eyes.

The theater’s dim lighting made everything look hazy. The room smelled like old wood, and dried blood.

Your sluggish gaze dragged to the figure sitting nearby. Ellie.

She was hunched over in a chair beside the couch, elbows on her knees, fingers threaded through her hair. The moment she saw you stir, she sat up straight, her breath catching.

"You’re awake," she whispered, like she didn’t quite believe it.

You didn’t respond.

She leaned forward slightly, like she wanted to move closer but didn’t know if she should. Her green eyes swept over you, scanning for any sign of pain.

"You—uh, you lost a lot of blood," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "But I stitched you up. I'm not as good as you, but—uhm, you should be okay."

Silence.

Ellie exhaled through her nose, rubbing the back of her neck. Her fingers were still stained red in places, dried and cracked against her skin.

"You need to eat."

She reached down, grabbing a can of food from the floor. When she opened it, the soft scrape of metal felt too loud in the quiet room.

She scooped up a small bite with a spoon and held it toward you.

Nothing.

Her hand hovered in the air, waiting.

"Come on," she tried again, her voice quieter. "Just a little."

You barely had the strength to shake your head, but you did. The smell made your stomach churn, and you could still taste the metallic flavour in your throat.

Ellie swallowed. She didn’t lower the spoon right away, like she was waiting for you to change your mind. But you didn't.

She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back as she sat there, staring at the ceiling.

"We can’t stay here," she said finally, voice tight. "Tommy and Dina already left. It’s just us."

Still, you said nothing, your lower lip trembling as you remember Dina's bloodied face.

Ellie shifted in her seat, restless. You could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers flexed against her jeans. Like she was holding something back.

"You’re gonna have to talk to me at some point," she muttered, not looking at you.

Your throat felt tight. You kept your gaze locked on the floor as if it was the only thing keeping you sane right now.

"Right. Okay." She stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the room before stopping at the doorway. For a moment, it seemed like she might leave. But she didn’t.

She just stood there, gripping the doorframe tightly.

"You saved my life," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just—I don’t get it. Why would you do that?"

You shut your eyes, and Ellie didn’t push for an answer.

She just let the silence hang between you, before finally turning away.

When the door clicked shut behind her, you exhaled shakily, curling in on yourself as the weight of everything pressed down all over again.

Hours passed, and even if neither of you slept, you were still weak, and Ellie was restless, moving like she was running out of time. You didn't seem to react to anything, your head numb as you looked at your shaking fingers.

"We need to leave." Her voice cut through the silence. You barely proceeded the information.

She was already grabbing supplies, checking weapons, shoving things into her bag like it was her last day on earth. Like she was expecting someone to come through that door and finish what the world had started.

You didn’t move, and her jaw clenched. "I know you can hear me."

Still, you said nothing.

A heavy exhale, and then she crouched in front of you, green eyes searching your face. "You’re in no shape to walk, but we don’t have a choice." A beat of silence. "Can you stand?"

You swallowed, your throat raw.

You should shake your head. You should say something.

But you did neither.

Ellie’s expression twisted. Maybe she was angry. Maybe she just didn’t know what to do with you.

"Okay." She nodded once, "then I’ll carry you."

You barely had time to react before she was crouching, looping one of your arms over her shoulder, and hoisting you up. Your legs nearly buckled the second your feet touched the floor, but Ellie held you up, her grip firm but careful.

She was warm. Too warm. She felt like safety, and you hated that.

Ellie sighed, shifting your weight against her. "Let’s go."

The first few hours were unbearable.

Every step sent bolts of pain through your body. Ellie stayed close, letting you lean against her when you needed to, never saying anything about how slow you were moving.

She should've left you behind. It would've been so much easier. But she didn’t.

It wasn’t until the sun was beginning to set that Ellie stopped.

"Okay, so, we’re taking a break."

She helped you lower yourself onto a fallen log, dropping her bag to the ground. You watched as she pulled out a can of food, a water bottle, and a few crumpled ration bars. She opened one and held it out to you.

You didn’t take it.

Ellie’s fingers twitched, her voice tense. "You need to eat."

Nothing.

"You haven’t said a single goddamn word since you woke up, and now you’re not even eating? What, are you trying to die?"

You didn’t flinch, didn’t react.

Ellie exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face before crouching in front of you again. "Look. I know you’ve been through shit. I get it. But you need to eat something. Don't care if you don't even speak to me ever again, just want you to get better. Please."

Something in her voice made your chest ache.

She was trying, really hard. And you knew you weren't doing things easy for her, and she still hadn't left you.

You swallowed, your voice hoarse from not using it. "I’m not hungry."

Ellie froze. "Jesus. I was starting to think you fucking forgot how to talk."

You shifted uncomfortably.

She didn’t push you again. Just handed you the food and muttered, "Try." And so you did.

The sky was dark by the time you found the cabin.

It was small, tucked between the trees near a lake, long abandoned, but intact.

Ellie scouted ahead, checking for infected before calling you inside.

The second your legs gave out, she was there, easing you onto the old couch near the fireplace.

"We’ll stay here tonight," she murmured. "Maybe longer."

You didn’t argue. Ellie sighed, rubbing her face. "I’ll set up some traps outside. Get a fire going."

You barely heard her.

The theater was behind you. Abby was behind you. The scars, the wounds, the ghosts—they were all behind you.

But they still felt so close.

You curled into yourself on the bed, arms wrapped tightly around your legs as silent tears slipped down your cheeks. Muffled sniffles filled the quiet space, but then, you felt warmth. Two arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. When you didn't push her, she started pecking you small kisses on your back. You stopped crying moments later.

Abby’s breath was ragged by the time she reached the theater. She scanned the room, eyes darting from the old furniture to the bloodstained ground where she had left Ellie gasping for air.

Then, her gaze landed on it. Your Spider-Man comic.

It sat abandoned on a nearby chair, slightly bent at the corners, worn from the way you used to flip through it over and over again.

She swallowed, throat tight, as she reached for it with unsteady hands. The second she lifted the cover, something slipped out and fluttered to the ground.

A folded piece of paper.

Abby knew what it was before she even picked it up.

Her fingers trembled as she unfolded it, breath catching as her eyes scanned the words written in your familiar, messy handwriting.

Abby,

If you’re reading this, it means you came back, but I already left.

You don’t have to look after me anymore. You’re free now.

I will always be grateful for you; for your protection, your unconditional support, and the love you’ve given me for as long as I can remember. Thank you for shutting down my nightmares, for holding me until I stopped crying, for being my safe place when the world felt too cruel.

We’ve always been different—opposites, really. But no matter what, you’re my sister. You always will be. Our paths have been pulling us apart for a while now, and as much as it breaks my heart, I know we both have to move forward. You deserve to chase your dreams, your ambitions. And so do I.

Even if our lives take us in different directions, I know we’ll find each other again. One day, when we’re both okay.

I'm okay now. I’ll be okay. And I hope you will be too.

I love you so much.

—Bug

No. Abby’s vision blurred, the ink smudging as a single tear splashed onto the page. Then another. She sucked in a shaky breath, her fingers gripping the paper so tightly it crumpled in her grasp.

How could you say that? How could you accept this?

How could you be strong enough to walk away when she wasn’t?

She had spent her entire life making sure you were okay. She had promised to protect you, to keep you, and now… now, she was grasping at nothing.

The realization hit her in full force, a broken sob tore from her throat as her forehead was pressed against the crumpled letter as if it could somehow bring you back.

As her chest ached, she allowed herself to crumble.

The cabin smelled like pine and woodsmoke, warm and safe against the crisp autumn air outside. The morning light spilled through the window, catching the dust motes that floated lazily through the air. Outside, the lake stretched endlessly, its surface rippling with the gentle touch of the wind.

It was peaceful here. Safe.

And, for the first time in what felt like forever, home.

You stretched beneath the thick quilt, blinking against the golden sunlight as warmth pressed into your side. Ellie’s arm was draped over your waist, her breath soft against the nape of your neck. She always slept like this—like she was afraid you’d slip away if she didn’t hold you close.

You shifted slightly, feeling her stir behind you. A soft groan left her lips as she buried her face into your shoulder.

"Mm… too early," she muttered, voice thick with sleep.

You smiled, eyes fluttering shut again. "You say that every morning."

She hummed in response, pulling you impossibly closer. "And I’m always right."

You let yourself sink into the warmth of her, savoring the slow, quiet morning.

It hadn’t been easy to get here.

The first few weeks had been… rough. You barely spoke. Eating was a chore, sleep was filled with nightmares, and the weight of everything that had happened clung to you both like a second skin. But Ellie never pushed. She just stayed. Kept the fire going, made sure you ate at least something, and waited.

And then, one day, the silence cracked.

It was over something small. A comment about how she sucked at fishing. And then, a quiet laugh—your own. It had been a weak, broken thing, but Ellie had looked at you like you’d just given her the goddamn world.

And after that, things got easier.

Now, eight months later, you were here. In this tiny cabin by the lake, tangled up in Ellie’s arms like it was the only place you were ever meant to be.

You turned in her arms, facing her. Her hair was a mess, auburn locks sticking out in every direction, and her face was soft, relaxed in a way that made your heart ache. You reached up, brushing a few stray strands away from her freckled cheek.

Her eyes cracked open, sleepy and hazy, a slow smirk tugging at her lips. "S’not fair, waking me up just to stare at me."

You rolled your eyes. "You’re the one who came back to bed."

"Because it’s warm," she murmured, tucking her face into the crook of your neck. “And you’re here.”

Your chest ached in the best way. You knew it hadn't been easy for Ellie either. After all, you were Abby's sister, you shared blood with the one who ended Joel's life. And even if you didn't look alike, Ellie could sometimes see traces of Abby deep in your eyes. She tried to fight the image away, tell herself that it was you who was by her side, not her, but sometimes you do needed to give her some time. Because healing took time. And so did forgiveness.

You pressed a kiss to the top of her head, fingers tracing lazy patterns against the bare skin of her back. "You wanna go fishing today?" you asked.

Ellie groaned dramatically. "Ugh. Do we have to?"

"You need a shower, you kinda stink, baby."

That made her pause. Then, with a sigh, she nodded. You grinned, pressing another kiss against her hair before slipping out of bed.

Ellie groaned at the loss of warmth, but followed soon after, stretching her arms above her head before pulling on one of her flannels—yours, actually. She stole them all the time. But so did you.

The two of you fell into the rhythm of morning, moving around each other with practiced ease. Ellie stoked the fire while you grabbed your boots. She handed you a steaming mug of tea with a lopsided smile, and you swore it tasted better just because she made it.

The plan was simple: clean some clother by the lake, as Ellie tried to catch some fish. But, as always, Ellie had a way of turning even the most common tasks into something ridiculous.

You had just started washing some clothes in the metal basin outside when Ellie came up behind you, arms snaking around your waist as she rested her chin on your shoulder. "You know, we could just let the rain wash our clothes," she mused.

You snorted. "That’s disgusting."

"Survival, baby."

You flicked some water at her, making her yelp and jump back. "Alright, now you’ve done it."

Before you could react, Ellie scooped up a handful of water and flung it at you, soaking the front of your shirt.

"Ellie!"

She cackled, dodging as you swiped at her. “Now you look good.”

"Oh, you’re so dead."

You abandoned the laundry entirely, lunging at her. She tried to escape, but you were quicker, tackling her to the ground. She groaned dramatically as she hit the dirt, laughing breathlessly as you pinned her down.

"I surrender, I surrender!" she wheezed between chuckles, her hands coming up in a weak defense.

You squinted at her, pretending to consider it. Then, leaning down, you pressed a quick kiss to the tip of her nose before rolling off of her with a satisfied hum.

Ellie blinked, momentarily stunned. "That’s so unfair."

You smirked. "Tough luck, babe."

She groaned, dragging a hand down her face, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away.

The lake shimmered under the afternoon sun, gentle ripples distorting its glassy surface as Ellie stood knee-deep in the water, her makeshift fishing spear gripped tightly in her hands. She was focused, brows furrowed, every muscle tense as she waited for the perfect moment.

You sat on the shore, leaning back on your palms, watching her with a fond smile. Ellie took everything so seriously—even catching a couple of fish for dinner had turned into some epic hunt in her mind.

Then—quick as lightning—she lunged forward, the spear slicing through the water. A second later, she yanked it back, grinning triumphantly as a decent-sized fish flailed at the end of it.

"Would ya look at that!" she called, holding it up for you to see. "Told you I’m a pro now."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Baby, you literally missed the last four times."

"Yeah, but this time I didn’t," she shot back, wading back toward the shore. "Which makes me officially the greatest fisher in this whole damn lake."

You raised a brow. "I think the bears might have you beat."

Ellie plopped down next to you, dropping the fish into the bucket beside her before nudging your shoulder, pouting. "Shut up and be impressed."

You only hummed in response, your gaze drifting from her to your hand, where the silver band on your finger caught the sunlight.

The ring had been Ellie's discovery—something she’d found months ago while the two of you were scavenging through an old house. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple band, slightly worn, but the meaning it had was priceless.

She hadn’t even asked. Just got down on one knee right then and there, dirt on her jeans, a shit-eating grin on her face as she held it up to you.

'So,' she had said, 'you wanna be stuck with me forever or what?'

It was the easiest question you’d ever answered.

You twisted the ring absentmindedly, smiling softly.

Ellie noticed. "Whatcha lookin’ at?"

You lifted your hand, showing her the ring proudly.

Ellie’s lips quirked up. "Admiring my excellent taste?"

"Just thinking," you murmured, scooting closer, "that technically, I’m Mrs. Williams now."

Ellie blinked, her smirk faltering for half a second before her entire face lit up. "Holy shit."

You raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You just called yourself Mrs. Williams," she said, her voice laced with pure delight.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. "Well… yeah. That is what happens when you get married."

Ellie practically tackled you, sending you both tumbling onto the grass as she hovered over you, her hands on either side of your face. "Say it again."

You snorted. "Ellie—"

"Say it again."

You bit your lip, pretending to think about it before whispering, "Mrs. Williams."

Ellie groaned dramatically, dropping her forehead against yours. "God, I love you."

You giggled, running your fingers through her damp hair. "Yeah, yeah. I know."

She pulled back just enough to look at you, green eyes soft and full of something that made your chest ache in the best way. "You are really stuck with me now," she murmured.

You brushed your nose against hers. "Wouldn’t want it any other way."

Ellie grinned before capturing your lips in a kiss, slow and sweet, the kind that made the rest of the world disappear.

Back inside, your wife stood at the small kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up as she attempted to prepare lunch.

"Told you I can cook," she said, carefully chopping up some carrots with a look of pure concentration plastered in her face.

You leaned against the doorway, watching with amused skepticism. "You burnt canned soup last week."

"That was one time."

You snorted but let her continue, stepping in only when she nearly cut her finger for the third time. "Okay, okay, move over before you lose a hand."

She huffed but let you take over, leaning against the counter as she watched. "Y’know, I think I like watching you cook more than actually doing it."

"Oh yeah?"

She grinned. "Yeah. It’s hot."

You flicked a piece of carrot at her. "Go set the table, you perv."

She laughed, dodging the attack, but did as she was told.

After dinner, the two of you settled on the couch, Ellie stretching out with her head in your lap as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through her hair. She hummed softly, eyes fluttering shut.

"Mm… this is nice," she murmured sleepily.

You smiled, brushing your thumb along her temple. "Yeah. It is."

Silence settled between you, warm and comfortable. Ellie shifted slightly, her arm draping over your waist as she nuzzled into you.

And just like that, whatever plans you had for the rest of the night faded away. The world outside could wait.

For now, it was just you and Ellie, wrapped up in the kind of peace neither of you ever thought you’d get to have.

a/n: did someone said... DOMESTIC ELLIE???? I did. It was me. I love her. Also, next chapter is kinda going to be the last one... I'm actually so sad bc i love this series with my heart, but I swear I'll give you an ending to remember :)

taglist !

@kaykeryyy @vahnilla @autisticintr0vert @leavemeinthewater @alexandra-001 @liasxeatt @urge-to @catrapplesauces @jhyoos @womenlover0 @sevyscoven @antobooh @brooks-lin @sleepingwasp @iamhellagae @moki-nat

[leiyanzyves]

"𝑺𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑨𝒓𝒎𝒔"

Caitlyn x f! reader - 𝗔𝗿𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗲

𝗦𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀-

After a long and exhausting day as an Enforcer, Caitlyn returns home to you, seeking solace in the warmth of your embrace. She rarely allows herself to be vulnerable, but in your arms, she can finally let go.

The door creaked open, followed by the soft shuffle of boots being kicked off and the rustle of a coat sliding from weary shoulders. You barely needed to turn your head to know it was Caitlyn—the way she moved, precise yet drained, spoke louder than any words. She had been gone since early morning, and now the moon hung high in the Piltover sky, its glow slipping through the windows of your shared home.

“You’re home late,” you murmured, voice laced with concern as you shifted on the couch. The book in your lap lay forgotten as you stretched your arms toward her. “Another long day?”

Caitlyn exhaled a breath that carried the weight of exhaustion, her normally sharp blue eyes dulled with fatigue. "Too long," she admitted, stepping forward. The moment she was within reach, you took her hand, fingers brushing over the slight tremor in her palm. Without hesitation, you guided her down onto the couch beside you, and she let herself be pulled into your arms.

She melted instantly.

Caitlyn rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable, but here, with you, she didn’t have to keep up the walls she so carefully built around herself. Her face found the crook of your neck, her breath warm against your skin as she released a deep, weary sigh.

Your fingers moved instinctively to her hair, threading through her dark locks with slow, soothing strokes. “You push yourself too hard,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

Her arms tightened around you in response, as if grounding herself in the warmth of your embrace. “I don’t have much of a choice,” she murmured. “The city—”

“The city can wait,” you interrupted gently, running your hand down her back, feeling the way her body tensed at first before slowly relaxing under your touch. “Right now, it’s just us.”

For a moment, she said nothing, only breathing you in. Caitlyn had never been the type to openly express her exhaustion, but the way she clung to you now told you everything she wouldn’t say aloud. She was tired—tired of the constant weight on her shoulders, of the responsibility that never seemed to let up.

You pulled the blanket draped over the back of the couch around both of you, cocooning her in warmth. “Stay like this for a while,” you coaxed, your voice barely above a whisper. “You need rest.”

A small, breathy chuckle escaped her lips. “I do rest,” she mumbled, though there was no conviction behind her words.

You smiled, fingers tracing absentminded patterns along her spine. “Cait, sitting at your desk buried under paperwork doesn’t count as rest.”

She hummed, a sound of tired amusement, before pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your shoulder. “I think I like this kind of rest better,” she admitted, her voice softer now, more vulnerable.

You chuckled, shifting slightly to press a kiss against her forehead. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

Her grip on you tightened ever so slightly, a silent reassurance that she didn’t want you to.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Caitlyn allowed herself to let go. No responsibilities, no expectations—just the warmth of your embrace, steady and unwavering, keeping her safe.

And for now, that was enough.

Author's note-

Send request!

[willowcried]

hey hey heyyy what about quinn fabray teaching shy reader’s first time? for context reader is such an awkward loser and we all know that quinn is one of the popular girlies, and she’s their first girlfriend ever and they haven’t gone any far other than missing but reader just wants to please her

-🪴

Power bottom Quinn Fabray believers RISE

like, you’re so eager to make quinn feel good, but also so shy about actually making a move. you get red just thinking about touching her like that—she HAS to do something about that

curled up in your bed, kissing lazily, and hands resting just above her waist, quinn smirks against your lips and whispers, “you can touch me, you know.”

you freeze, turning bright red. “i know.” you whisper, wanting to sound sure but your hands still don’t move.

she pulls back slightly, taking in the adorable sight of you looking completely lost, pupils blown, mouth a little swollen, hair messy from her fingers. she brushes her thumb against your jaw, tilting her head. “baby, are you nervous?”

you shake your head too quick. too defensive. quinn raises an eyebrow, and you immediately cave, “fine, yes. maybe. but can you blame me? i just want make you feel good.”

her breath catches for a moment as she watches you, really takes you in—the nerves, the almost desperate need in your eyes. you, who always get so shy when things get too intense, who always panic and pull back before it goes too far. and yet, here you are, saying you want to take care of her.

and oh, that just makes quinn’s heart melt. “aww, you pretty thing,” she coos, fingers slipping into your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp. “want to please me?”

you swallow, nodding. “yeah.” a shy chuckle leaves your lips.

quinn looks down at you with something between amusement and hunger, tilting her chin as you press your lips to hers again—tentative at first, but deepening quickly when she pulls you closer. she kisses you until your thoughts blur and your hands finally settle on her thighs, fingers ghosting under her skirt.

she sighs into your mouth and your heartbeat skyrockets. “thaaat’s it. like you when you get handsy.” she praises, shifting her arms over your shoulders to your wrist, sliding it further and you just— “holy shit.”

because you can feel the dampness that stains your index and middle finger, even through the lace of her panties. the realization makes you freeze, lips parting in stunned silence. you up at her, wide-eyed, almost like you’re asking.

am i imagining this?

“you did that,” she murmurs, quick to reassure you, rolling her hips ever so slightly against your fingers, her voice is warm and breathy before her hands on your neck pull you into another, sloppy kiss.

and then there’s her breathing. a little messier now due to your hands, slowly rubbing up and down. losing focus just from the way your hands move, she lets out this tiny sound when your other hand squeezes her thigh, and oh—yeah. yeah.

she never sounds like that. she’s always composed, but now she’s melting against you, hips shifting into your touch, exhaling shaky little breaths that make your stomach flip.

she pulls back when she sees how overwhelmed you are “switch with me, baby.”

and before you know it, she’s on her back, pulling you down between her legs, voice smooth as honey as she instructs you.

“start with my neck,” she murmurs, fingers threading through your hair. “kiss me. and don’t be shy.”

she wants you to be nervous. she wants you to hesitate, to stutter, because the idea of you being so eager to please her, while having no clue what you’re doing, makes her incredibly wet.

and when she finally guides your mouth lower, she makes sure you listen. she tells you exactly how to move, what to do with your tongue, praises you when you do something right, and sighs, “don’t stop, doll.” when you finally start to get the rhythm.

because she knows you’re a fast learner. and once you start figuring out what makes her moan? oh, your jaw’s gonna be sore tomorrow.

[eternallyordinary]

“He Belongs to You” - Part 5

hope you’re all enjoying the fic. this is my first one—i’ve been a longtime reader and finally decided to give writing a shot. just finished the boys, so you could say i’m a little obsessed right now.

i’d love to hear your thoughts, and if you enjoy it, reblogs mean the world to help more people find it. feel free to message me with any requests. xo

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

Part 1<3

Part 2<3

Part 3<3

Part 4<3

Summary: After a whirlwind 24 hours, Homelander’s obsession with you only grows. What started as desire has become something darker, more dangerous. But when he realizes someone hurt you before, his need for control turns to vengeance—and whoever’s responsible won’t live to regret it.

Warnings: Possessiveness, power dynamics, strong language, mature content, smut, violence, sexual content, mentions of sexual assault/rape, foul language, murder, yandere (if i forgot any pls let me know <3)

The morning light filters through the window, casting a soft glow over the room. You stir slightly, still curled up in Homelander’s lap, his fingers lazily running through your hair. He hasn’t moved all night. Hasn’t slept. Not once.

He just watched over you. A silent guardian against a threat that doesn’t exist—at least, not in this moment. His body should be exhausted, but it isn’t. Just being near you keeps him alert, wired, as if you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

A small yawn escapes your lips as you stretch, blinking up at him. “Good morning.”

His hand stills in your hair for a moment before resuming, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Morning, doll,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Sleep well?”

You nod, sitting up and shifting in his lap until you’re straddling him, your legs curling around his waist. “I did. Did you even sleep?”

Homelander exhales, shaking his head. “No. I didn’t.” His grip on your hips tightens slightly. “I couldn’t. Just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You smirk. “You know I’m a supe, right?”

It’s meant to be teasing, lighthearted. But the playful glint in his eyes fades almost instantly. His grip tightens—not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point.

“I know,” he mutters, voice dark. “But you’re not as strong as me. You’re not untouchable.” His jaw clenches. “I have enemies, and if they knew what you meant to me, they’d come for you. You think I’m gonna let that happen?”

You try to lighten the mood. “I mean… I do pilates.”

A short laugh escapes him, but his hands move up, cradling your face between his palms, forcing you to look at him. His amusement vanishes.

“I’m serious.”

Your expression softens as you study him. “Who wants to hurt you?” you ask. “Who would want to hurt me?”

His blue eyes darken, full of something unreadable. “Anyone who hates me,” he says simply. “And there’s a lot of them. They’d do anything to take me down—including hurting you. And I won’t let that happen.”

His grip is unrelenting, his words heavy with promise.

You don’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you reach up, threading your fingers through his golden hair before leaning in, pressing your lips against his.

He responds instantly. There’s nothing soft about the way he kisses you, no hesitation. His hands slide up your back, pulling you tighter against him, like he can’t get you close enough.

But then you pull away, laughing breathlessly as you cover your mouth. “Ew—sorry. I should’ve brushed my teeth first.”

Homelander chuckles, the tension in his body easing. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” he says, voice low and teasing. “I don’t mind a little morning breath.”

Before you can protest, he reaches up, gently pulling your hand away from your mouth, his grip firm.

“And besides…” His eyes flicker with something dangerous. Something possessive. “I like it when you’re a mess.” He smirks. “Makes me want to ruin you even more.”

“Ruin me, huh?” Your voice is teasing, but there’s a nervous edge to it as you trace the rigid contours of his suit, your fingertip gliding over the perfectly etched lines of his abs.

Homelander’s eyes darken, his grip on your hips tightening. “I will ruin you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with possession. “But only for me. No one else will know how bad you are—just me.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs. Sometimes, being around him feels so natural, like you’ve known him forever. But then there are moments like this—moments where the weight of his intensity makes you hyperaware that your life is entirely in his hands.

His gaze locks onto yours. “There’s something else you need to know,” he says.

You swallow. “What?”

His expression sharpens, deadly serious. “I can’t think about you with other people. And I don’t want to. If I ever hear about you with someone else—before me—I’ll have to hurt them. Probably kill them.” His voice is disturbingly calm, like he’s stating a fact, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I don’t care if it was a fling. I don’t care if it was your first kiss back in grade school. There’s only before and after me now. Anyone who’s ever touched you will wish they hadn’t.”

Your breath catches. His jealousy is suffocating, terrifying—and yet, it sends a thrill down your spine.

“Well…” You hesitate, avoiding his piercing gaze. “You’re the only one who’s touched me.” You pause before correcting yourself, voice barely above a whisper. “Well… the only one I wanted to touch me.”

Homelander stiffens. His grip on you doesn’t falter, but something in his expression shifts. You regret speaking instantly.

Shit.

His blue eyes search yours, and without a word, he reaches up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is surprisingly gentle. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “It’s like you knew to wait for me.”

But he doesn’t miss the distinction in your words. The only one you wanted to touch you.

Who the fuck touched you without permission?

Names. He needs names.

A muscle in his jaw twitches, his mind already conjuring a thousand different ways to make them suffer. To make sure they regret ever laying a hand on you. To make sure they never touch anyone again.

He imagines tearing them apart, one by one, making you watch as he erases them from existence. Their names. Their families. Their homes. Everything they’ve ever loved—gone.

The thought makes his whole body tense. He shifts, readjusting himself as the dark, possessive hunger coils inside him, tightening like a vice.

But he can sense it—you’re not ready to talk about it. Not yet.

That’s fine.

You’ll tell him when you’re ready.

And when you do, he’ll make sure you watch as he destroys them all.

A knock at the door shatters the moment.

“Come in,” Homelander says smoothly—like this is his apartment, like he’s the one in control here.

Your head snaps toward him. What the fuck? You barely have time to adjust, sitting in nothing but a tank top and panties, the thin fabric of your shirt doing nothing to hide the way your nipples peek through. The door swings open, and of course, it’s Ashley.

Your boss.

Not his. He’s his own boss, you’ve come to realize.

Ashley stops in her tracks, her brows shooting up as she takes in the scene. You. Straddling him. And he—looking smug, satisfied—makes no move to let you go. If anything, his grip tightens, holding you in place like he wants her to see this. Hell, maybe he hopes she takes a picture, sends it straight to the top brass at Vought. Let them all see who you belong to.

“Hi… you two…” Ashley starts, hesitantly. She clears her throat, eyes darting between you and Homelander before settling on you. “Access Hollywood wants to do a piece on your journey to the Seven. I know people your age don’t really watch it, but it’ll be good for pulling in ratings from the 35 to 50 demographic.”

Homelander bristles. “Why the fuck does she need to pull from that demographic, Ashley?” His mind immediately goes to older men. The ones who’d watch the segment. The ones who’d look at you. They’d be his age, sure—but it’s different with him. Any other man, twice your age, interested in you? Fucking perverts.

Ashley falters. “Just, uh… covering all of our bases, sir.”

The tension in the room is suffocating. You force a smile, desperate to salvage some semblance of professionalism after the chaos of the past twenty-four hours. You don’t let Homelander speak.

“Okay. Great. I’ll get ready now,” you say quickly, trying again to lift yourself off his lap.

His hands keep you locked in place.

Fine.

You shock him with your fingertips.

“Ow! Fuck,” he hisses, just enough of a sting to loosen his hold. You smirk, tossing a blanket around yourself as you slip off him and head toward the bathroom.

He watches you disappear behind the door. The second it clicks shut, he stands, towering over Ashley.

“Why the fuck are we worried about whether forty-year-old perverts are interested in her?” His voice is low, dangerous. “Who gives a shit about ratings? She’s not doing it.”

Before Ashley can respond, a new voice cuts in.

Sage.

Standing at the door, watching the whole damn thing. Apparently, everyone is making themselves at home in your apartment.

“He’s obsessed with her,” Sage says bluntly, arms crossed. “It’s not healthy how possessive he is.”

Homelander turns, mock surprise on his face. “Oh, hi, Sage. It’s me, Homelander. I’m right fucking here.”

Sage doesn’t blink. “Let’s talk about your ratings. They’re already dogshit. You think screwing a twenty-something-year-old with a baby face is gonna help?”

His smirk fades. She knows she’s hit a nerve.

“You think I care about ratings?” His voice is sharp, seething. “She gives me something I need. Something I’ve never had before.”

Sage scoffs. “What? A tight hole? Get a grip, Homelander. You brought me onto the Seven to help you. To guide you. This? This is a stupid fucking mistake.”

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t make mistakes.

“I don’t need you to tell me what is or isn’t a mistake,” he snaps. “You work for me, remember? I make the decisions here. Not you.”

“She’s young. She’s new. You’re putting a target on her back.”

Ashley. Finally speaking up.

He barely acknowledges her, but she pushes forward.

“You have to see how reckless this is. It’s dangerous for both of you.”

Homelander clenches his fists. “I know the risks,” he grits out. “But I can protect her better than anyone. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Ashley sighs, rubbing her temples. “By not sleeping? You look like you didn’t sleep at all last night.”

His eyes darken. “I don’t need sleep.”

“You do.”

Homelander stares at her. The audacity—speaking to him like this. But there’s no malice in her voice, just exhaustion.

“People will notice,” she continues, her voice softer now. “Just… please. Get it together.”

The room is silent.

Finally, he exhales sharply.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll try to sleep.” A pause. “But I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

Sage and Ashley exchange a look—two women always at odds, finally agreeing on something.

Neither of them speak as they turn and leave, shutting the door behind them.

Homelander lowers himself onto the couch, his mind still tangled in the conversation with Ashley and Sage. Their words should mean nothing to him. But they linger.

The sound of the shower running pulls his attention away. His thoughts shift instantly—away from strategy, away from arguments—to you. Naked. Wet. Warm water cascading down your body.

His pulse quickens.

He stands. Walks toward the bathroom. His hand hovers over the handle, hesitating for only a second before pushing the door open.

Steam greets him, curling around his body as he steps inside. The air is thick with heat, fogging the mirror and the glass of the shower. But he can still see you—your silhouette blurred, water glistening on your skin.

His breath catches.

Slowly, he sheds his suit, letting the fabric fall in a careless pile on the floor. He moves toward the glass, watching you, savoring the sight. Then, without a word, he pulls the door open and steps inside.

You gasp, your arms moving instinctively to cover yourself.

He chuckles, amused. His eyes darken, his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Don’t hide from me, baby,” he murmurs, voice rough, thick with something dangerous. “I want to see all of you.”

His hands are on your wrists before you can react, pulling them away, pinning them above your head. The warmth of the water does nothing to cool the fire in his touch. He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss—slow at first, then deeper, his tongue pressing into your mouth, claiming every inch like it belongs to him.

A soft moan escapes against his lips, and it undoes him.

Something dark, something primal stirs inside him—something he’s barely been holding back.

His grip tightens in your hair, fingers tangling at the nape of your neck as he tugs, tilting your head back. Forcing you to meet his gaze.

Blue eyes, sharp and predatory, lock onto yours. His chest rises and falls, his breath ragged. He drinks in the sight of you, wet and vulnerable beneath him, completely at his mercy.

And god, he likes it. He was ready to fuck you, to devour you. He puts his cock against your clit, rubbing small circles with his tip. He feels the way your body tenses beneath him, the shift so subtle yet impossible to ignore.

And then your words echo in his mind— You’re the only one who’s touched me.

Something dark in him—something selfish, something monstrous—wants to take, to claim, to make you his without hesitation. To ask for forgiveness later, not permission now.

But the part of him that needs you, that aches for you in ways he doesn’t fully understand, knows better.

You deserve more than that. More than him at his worst.

Your first time should be something close to heaven.

And for you, he chooses restraint. He exhales sharply, jaw tight as he pulls back, shifting himself away from your center. The need inside him rages, demanding more, but he won’t let it win.

Not with you.

You exhale, your breath finally steadying—but the moment you do, his voice cuts through the steam, firm and commanding.

“Lay down.”

He doesn’t reach for the faucet, doesn’t bother turning the water off. The warm stream continues cascading over both of you, soaking his hair until strands cling to his face, his eyes dark beneath them.

He watches you, unblinking, unmoving—his presence overwhelming in the small space.

Slowly, you lower yourself, your back meeting the wet tile, your hair fanning out around you, heavy with water.

His eyes drink you in, his voice thick with possession as he commands, “Open your legs for Daddy.”

He lowers himself onto his knees, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. He studies you like a masterpiece—something rare, something fragile, something that belongs to him. He gently opens up your pussy with his fingers, slowly massaging the hood of your tiny clit.

You moan without restraint, your body reacting instinctively, back arching in ways you never thought possible. He continues to rub your clit, then he sticks a finger in.

Then 2.

Then 3.

Each thrust is slow and deliberate, a silent reminder that every part of you belongs to him. Then, with effortless strength, he lifts your legs, draping them over his shoulders, your head tilting back as pleasure overtakes you.

He aggressively kisses and sucks your clit. He’s like a rabid animal—hungry, insatiable. If he could devour you completely, he would.

He continues to suck your clit, feeling it harden. He begins to stroke his cock with purpose. Effortlessly, he uses one hand to keep you upright, his grip firm yet controlled, as if you weigh nothing at all.

“Please don’t stop, baby, please,” you beg, your voice trembling with desperation.

Homelander’s grip tightens as he looms over you, his eyes dark with possession.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he commands, his voice low and unwavering.

“You—I—I belong to you!” you cry out, your body trembling as you surrender completely to him.

Suddenly, your body tenses, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you reach your peak. A rush of warmth spills into his mouth, and Homelander doesn’t hesitate—his lips part, tongue hanging out, greedily lapping up every drop like a man starved, as if he’s been waiting his whole life just for this. He strokes his cock with more determination—he releases a low growl and lets his cum paint your backside.

Both of you exhale. He gently releases your legs from his neck. Keeping your legs spread, he uses his cum as a lubricant to rub your clit even more.

“One day, this will be inside of you. You’re going to be such a good mommy,” he whispers, his voice dark with promise.

Your breath hitches as you sit up, hands finding their way to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. His fingers continue their slow, deliberate movements, drawing another soft whimper from your lips. Foreheads pressed together, your breaths mix, shaky and uneven.

You come undone once more, trembling in his grasp.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “That’s it. Always so good for me, you know that?”

His mouth finds yours again, kissing you deeply before pulling back, allowing you a moment to breathe.

The two of you sit there on the shower floor, water cascading over your tangled bodies, the heat between you rivaling the steam filling the space. Neither of you speak, just taking a moment to absorb the weight of what just happened.

“That was…” you murmur, still breathless.

Homelander presses a kiss to your forehead, his grip on you possessive yet tender. “Come on,” he says, voice softer than usual. “You have to get ready.”

You blink up at him, confusion flickering across your face. Just a moment ago, he was adamant about you not doing the interview. What changed?

As the two of you stand, rinsing off the remnants of heat and indulgence, you finally ask, “What did they want earlier?”

Homelander doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulls you against him, his grip firm, his lips crashing into yours like he needs to make a point. His kiss is deep, hungry—like he’s claiming you all over again. His hands find your wrists, pinning them against his chest as he devours you, breathing you in like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

When he finally pulls away, his expression is unreadable, torn between frustration and something far more dangerous.

“Ashley and Sage,” he mutters, jaw tight. “Being nosy. They think I’m too obsessed with you. That I’m making a mistake.”

You smirk against his lips, tilting your head as you press another slow, teasing kiss to his mouth, letting your tongue flick against his.

“You are obsessed with me,” you whisper, your words a challenge.

Homelander growls low in his throat as you tease his lips, his grip tightening on your hips. You’re right—he is obsessed with you. Entirely. Uncontrollably.

He pulls you flush against him, pressing his body into yours like he needs to mold himself to you, like he wants to brand his presence onto your skin. His hands roam with purpose, tracing every curve, memorizing every inch.

“I am obsessed with you,” he finally admits, voice thick with an emotion he barely understands. “And it scares the hell out of me how much I need you.”

You tilt your head, your gaze steady. Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you.

His grip loosens slightly, his expression shifting—not soft, but vulnerable, if only for a moment.

“I know,” he mutters, almost like he’s reassuring himself. “That’s what scares me. I don’t… I don’t need people. I never have. But you?” His fingers flex against your skin. “You’re different.”

You smirk, your playful nature creeping back in. “You know that’s normal, right? Well… maybe not this,” You gesture between your bodies, naked and pressed together after barely a day of knowing each other. “Never mind.” You giggle.

Homelander chuckles, shaking his head, his grip steadying you against him. “No, doll, this isn’t normal,” he agrees, smirking as he brushes wet strands of hair from your face. “But I’ve never liked normal anyway.”

He kisses you again before turning you around, his hands threading through your hair as he massages shampoo into your scalp. His touch is slow, deliberate, almost too gentle for him. He works through your hair with a care that’s foreign to him, his hands sliding down to knead your shoulders, rubbing away whatever tension lingers.

You let out a sigh, tilting your head forward. That feels so good, you murmur.

Homelander hums in satisfaction, fingers kneading deeper. “You have no idea how good it feels to touch you like this,” he mutters, his voice dipping lower. “To have you completely at my mercy.”

You glance back at him, studying his face through the steam.

“You like knowing you can hurt me, that you can end me… don’t you?” You ask. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

His hands still for a fraction of a second. He absorbs your words, his jaw clenching, his blue eyes darkening with something unreadable.

He doesn’t deny it.

“Yeah,” he finally murmurs, his voice rough. “I do.” His fingers brush down your spine, barely touching. “I like knowing I could crush you if I wanted to. That I have all the power.” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “But I don’t want to hurt you. I want to protect you.”

Homelander kisses you again, slow and deep, but his mind is already elsewhere. Somewhere darker.

Your words haven’t left him. They won’t. They cling to his brain like a parasite, infecting every thought, twisting his stomach into knots of rage he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“You’re the only one who’s touched me. Well… the only one I wanted to touch me.”

His fingers twitch against your skin, his muscles tightening as he fights the urge to demand their names right now. He pictures them—whoever they are—small, pathetic, unworthy. He doesn’t need details. He doesn’t need a reason.

He just needs to hear you say the words.

Tell him who they are.

Tell him where they live.

Tell him how they did it.

And he’ll take care of the rest.

He imagines their faces caving under his fists, teeth splintering like cheap glass, their pitiful screams cutting off with the wet, sickening squelch of his fingers ripping their tongues straight from their throats. He’ll tear them open, gut them like livestock, string them up in a place only he can see so he can admire his handiwork when he’s feeling nostalgic. Maybe he’ll fly them so high the oxygen thins before dropping them—make them fall for miles, long enough to know exactly when they’re about to hit the ground, long enough to understand they’re about to die before their bodies splatter like meat against pavement.

It’s what they deserve. It’s the bare fucking minimum.

But not yet.

Not yet.

He needs to be patient. For you.

So instead of demanding answers, instead of forcing them from your lips, he just pulls you closer, pressing another soft kiss to your jaw. You don’t notice the way his fingers dig into your skin a little harder, or how his breath turns just a little more ragged. You don’t see the violent, vicious promise buried deep in his eyes as he whispers against your skin.

“One day, baby… you���re gonna tell me who they are.”

You swallow hard.

They.

You thought he forgot.

Oh, silly girl. A man like him? He doesn’t miss anything.

Homelander watches your reaction, soaking in every twitch, every breath, every slight shift in your expression. His grip on your waist tightens just enough to remind you—he’s still in control. He always will be.

His smile lingers, slow and knowing, a predator savoring the scent of fresh blood.

“I see that look, baby,” he murmurs, his voice smooth but laced with something sharper, something hungry. His fingers slide up your spine, his nails ghosting over your skin like a warning. “You didn’t really think I’d let that slide, did you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Your heartbeat pounds so loudly in your ears it nearly drowns out his voice, but he hears it. Of course, he does.

He likes it.

Loves it.

Because it tells him everything he needs to know.

“Mmm.” He hums, leaning in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath warm against your damp skin. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

His tone is soft, almost gentle, but it carries the weight of something final. A promise. A death sentence.

“I’ll take care of it.”

His lips curl, pressing a lingering kiss just below your ear as he breathes in deep—like he’s inhaling your fear, drinking it in, letting it settle deep in his lungs.

He smiles, a slow, dangerous thing.

Homelander lets the words hang in the air, heavy and absolute.

“And believe me… once I’m finished with them? They’ll beg for death.”

He says it so casually, like he’s talking about the weather. But there’s something in his voice—glee. The kind of twisted, unhinged satisfaction that sends a chill down your spine.

Your stomach knots. You should stop him. You should say something. But the way he’s looking at you? That wild, feverish glint in his eye?

It’s too late.

His mind is already painting the scene—rivers of blood, splintered bone, screams so raw they tear through vocal cords. He wants them to suffer. He wants them to hurt. To feel every ounce of pain they inflicted on you a thousand times over.

And when they’re on their knees, their bodies broken beyond repair, gasping through bloodied lips for mercy?

There won’t be any.

“I’ll make sure they remember your name,” he purrs, dragging a thumb over your bottom lip. “Right before I carve it into their fucking skulls.”

You swallow hard, your breath shaky.

He smiles. Oh, he loves this. Loves the way you react, loves the fear, the hesitation—because it confirms what he already knows.

They’re dead.

They just don’t know it yet.

[thequeenofcurses]

Death of a Bachelor

Chapter 3: The First Night of Forever

Okinawa honeymoon with your new husband: special grade sorcerer Ryomen Sukuna (smut!) wk: 3.1k

<- Part 2

You and Sukuna arrive in Okinawa in the early evening, the sky painted in shades of warm amber and deep violet. The hotel you check into is nothing short of luxurious—grand chandeliers, marble floors, and a breathtaking ocean view from the lobby alone. It feels surreal, as if you’ve stepped into a dream.

As you enter your suite, you're instantly captivated by its opulence—the floor-to-ceiling windows revealing a vast expanse of turquoise waves, a private balcony overlooking the beach, and a bed so lavish it looks fit for royalty. Excitement bubbles within you at the thought of exploring the island, of making memories in this paradise.

Before you can voice your thoughts, Sukuna pulls you into his arms. His embrace is warm, grounding you amidst the overwhelming beauty surrounding you.

“My wife,” he starts, his voice filled with awe. “My dazzling wife.” He cups your face, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against your cheekbone. His crimson eyes hold a softness reserved only for you. 

Your heart swells at his words, at the sheer love in his gaze. “I love you.” you whisper, leaning into his touch.

“And I love you,” he answers without hesitation. Then, as if unable to hold back any longer, he claims your lips in a deep, searing kiss. His tongue moves against yours with practiced ease, exploring, savoring, leaving no inch untouched. You sigh into him, your fingers threading through his hair as your body instinctively molds against his.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes burn with something deeper than desire. “We can explore later,” he murmurs huskily, his fingers skimming the sides of your body, igniting sparks along your skin. “Right now, I want to worship every inch of my wife.”

Your breath catches at his words, a thrilling excitement coursing through you at the promise of what’s to come. “Yes,” you breathe out, a hint of anticipation in your voice. His large hands trail down the sides of your body, sending shivers up your spine.

“Please, Sukuna… show me how much you love me,” you say, your voice a soft, pleading whisper.

“Oh, I will,” he promises, his eyes darkening with lust. “I'll show you just how much you mean to me.”

Your heart pounds in anticipation, your body already responding to his words. As his clothes fall to the floor, you lick your lips, drinking in the sight of his muscular form. His tattoos only enhance his masculinity, the intricate designs adding to his powerful presence.

“Like what you see?” he asks, a cocky smirk playing on his lips, knowing exactly how he affects you.

“You're so handsome,” you murmur, slowly reaching out to touch him. Your hand runs down his sculpted chest, marveling at how his muscles flex under your touch. Every ridge of muscle tenses under your touch, and the power he exudes is undeniable.

His eyes darken at your praise. “And you,” he says, his gaze roaming over you with unfiltered adoration, “are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You pull him into a heated kiss, unable to resist him any longer. His lips capture yours, his tongue dancing with yours in a sensual, erotic dance. As the kiss deepens, you moan softly, the sound sending a rush of blood straight to his cock.

Your hand reaches between his legs, gently stroking his rapidly hardening length. He groans into the kiss, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily, seeking more friction. You break the kiss, grinning mischievously as you drop to your knees.

His eyes close as you rapidly pull his pants off and take him into your mouth, sucking lightly on the tip of his cock. He hisses, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guides you further down his length. You relax your throat, taking him in as deeply as possible.

He groans, his head falling back as pleasure floods his body. You begin to move, bobbing your head up and down his shaft, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. His grip tightens in your hair, pulling on it slightly as he struggles to maintain control.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he pants, his voice low and husky. Your mouth feels amazing around him, and he can't help but wonder how long he'll last. He wants to savor this moment, to savor the way you look with his cock buried in your throat.

“Look at me,” he commands, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes are burning with desire, his expression filled with raw, primal need. You continue to suck his cock, gazing up at him, your eyes locked on his.

“Good girl,” he purrs, his voice thick with arousal. “Curses. You look so beautiful like this.” He continues to guide your head, his movements becoming more erratic.

You speed up, your tongue working its magic on him. You can feel him tense, his balls drawing tight as his orgasm builds. He grunts, his hips jerking forward, and you know he's close. “F-fuck baby, I'm coming,” he groans and then he explodes in your mouth, his hot seed spilling down your throat. He tastes like sweet berries. You swallow eagerly, loving the taste of him.

He pants heavily, his grip on your hair loosening as he comes down from his high. You pull away, grinning up at him. He gives you his infamous grin, showing both his canines. 

"Damn, that was good," he remarks, pulling you into his arms. "Now, it's my turn." He leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. He tastes himself on your lips, and it only arouses him further.

You melt into his touch, your body responding eagerly to him. As the kiss breaks, he grins down at you, his eyes filled with desire. "Time for me to return the favor," he murmurs, scooping you up and tossing you onto the bed.

He crawls on top of you, his large frame caging you in. “You're mine, wife,” he growls, his voice filled with possessiveness. “Mine to love. Mine to protect. Mine to fuck.”

"Yours," you breathe, a wave of heat washing over you at his words.

"Damn right," he agrees, his hand trailing down your body. He cups your breast, squeezing it lightly before rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

You gasp, arching into his touch, needing more. "S-sukuna...please," you beg, your body aching for him.

He chuckles, his hand continuing its exploration. “Patience, princess. I want to enjoy you first.” His fingers trail down your stomach, coming to rest between your legs.

Of course you're already wet for him, your body desperate for his touch. He begins to stroke your clit, his touch featherlight. You moan, your hips bucking, trying to increase the pressure.

“So impatient,” he chides, his fingers teasing you.

You cry out in frustration, your body on fire. You need him inside you.

“Please, Sukuna...fuck me,” you beg, your voice a desperate plea.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he replies, a smirk playing on his lips. His fingers push into you, curling upwards and finding that sweet spot inside you.

“Oh gods, Sukuna,” you cry out, your hips moving in time with his thrusts. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, his thumb rubbing your clit. You can feel the pressure building, your orgasm threatening to overwhelm you.

“Come for me, baby,” he demands ardently, his eyes dark with lust. “Come all over my hand.” His words send you over the edge, your walls clamping down on his fingers as waves of bliss wash over you.

You abruptly shout out his name, your body shuddering as you ride out the aftershocks. He withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, his eyes locked on yours. “Delicious,” he murmurs, before lowering his head between your legs.

His tongue darts out, flicking across your sensitive nub. You moan, your hips jerking upward, craving more. He begins to suck on your clit, his tongue swirling around the swollen bundle of nerves.

“K-kuna," you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. The sensation is almost too much to bear, and you're not sure how much more you can take. He hasn’t even been inside you yet.

His eyes flick up to yours, his gaze filled with raw, primal desire.

“You like that, y/n?” he mutters, his breath hot against your core. “You like it when I eat your pussy?” 

"Gods yes," you moan, your body writhing in ecstasy.

He continues his assault, his tongue moving expertly between your legs. You feel the pressure building again, the tension coiling deep within you.

"S-sukuna," you breathe out, your nails now digging into his cotton candy pink hair. You pull him further down into you. His mouth truly feels divine. 

"That's it, princess. Come for me again" he murmurs, his tongue never ceasing its movements.

Your back arches off the bed as another orgasm rips through you, the intensity leaving you breathless. Sukuna raises his head, a smug smirk on his face.

"Such a good girl," he praises, his hand stroking your inner thigh. "But we're not done yet. I'm going to make love to you until you can't remember your own name."

He slides up the bed, his cock hovering at your entrance. He slides the tip up and down your soaked slit. “Ready for me, baby?” You nod, unable to speak, the sensation of him teasing your opening overwhelming your senses. You’ve only just begun to catch your breath before he thrusts into you, filling you completely.

You moan, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you. “You're so fucking tight,” he growls, his hips rocking back and forth. “So damn perfect.”

“Sukuna,” you whimper, your body tensing around his cock.

“Yes, baby?” he pants, his eyes blazing with desire.

“Fuck me,” you breathe out, needing him to move.

He doesn't need to be told twice. He begins to wantonly thrust into you, his movements slow and deep. “You're mine,” he declares again, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “No one else can have you.”

“I'm yours,” you agree, the feeling of his cock buried inside you almost too much to handle. He was so big it nearly felt like you were being split in two. You can feel another orgasm building, the pressure mounting with each thrust of his hips. You slide one of your hands down to your hips, trying to hold onto one of his. He takes your hand in his, looking into your eyes as he fills you completely with each hard thrust. 

“Say my name,” he grunts, his eyes fixated on yours. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Sukuna,” you moan, your walls tightening around his cock.

“Again.” Thrust.

“Sukuna!” Thrust.

He pulls your knees upward toward your chess, pressing you further into the bed to get an even deeper angle. He starts picking up the pace. Your fingers dig into his back, holding on for dear life as he fucks you senseless.

“Again. Say it again.” Thrust. Thrust.

“Sukuna!!!!” Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. He pounds into you relentlessly. His cock is too big. He's fucking you too good. The pressure is too much. 

"That's right," he breathed against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. "Let everyone in this fucking hotel know who you belong to."

He releases your legs and you instinctively wrap them around his waist again. He places a hand on the bed frame, needing something to hold on to, but not wanting to hurt you. His hands — nails, start digging into the frame as he pounds away into you. Over and over and over again. The sound of the frame smacking against the wall sounded throughout the room. 

Sukuna grips the frame with a hard thrust, the top of it breaking, tiny pieces of it falling onto the bed. A minor distraction, because nothing in this universe would stop Sukuna from driving into you. Not even if a special grade curse suddenly appeared in your room.

“I'm not done with you yet,” he moans, his voice dark with promise. “I want to take you like this.” In one fluid motion, Sukuna grabs your hips, and picks you up like you’re nothing. He pushes your back against the wall and bounces you on him. His cock reaching up as far into you as possible. The tip kissing your cervix with each deep bounce. 

“Kunaa!” you scream as he hits that perfect spot deep inside you. Your soft gummy walls clamp down on his cock, pulsing and squeezing him with each wave of gratification.

"That's it," he groans, his rhythm never faltering. "Take all of me, my wife."

He doesn't slow down, doesn't ever give you a moment to recover as he continues to bounce you on his cock, your back sliding against the wall with each powerful thrust. The sensation is overwhelming, too much and yet somehow not enough.

The pressure is building again, coiling tighter and tighter in your core. You're so close, teetering on the edge of another mind-shattering climax. Sukuna senses it, his pace becoming more urgent, more demanding.

“Give it to me,” he commands, his voice a rough whisper against your ear.

"Sukuna!" you scream one final time, your body convulsing around him as the most intense orgasm yet tears through you. Your vision blurs, stars exploding behind your eyelids as euphoria consumes you entirely.

"Fuck, y/n," he groans, his rhythm faltering as your walls clench and pulse around his length. "You feel so fucking good when you come on my cock."

Your orgasm hits you with the force of a tidal wave, euphoria spiraling through every nerve ending of your body as Sukuna continues his relentless pace. Your vision blurs, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you scream his name over and over, your voice growing hoarse. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red crescent-shaped trails in their wake, marking him as yours just as thoroughly as he's claiming you.

"Fuck, y/n," he groans, his rhythm faltering as your walls clamp down on him. His grip tightens on your hips, his thrusts growing more and more erratic. "You're going to make me—"

“Do it. Cum inside me,” you plead, your voice barely a whisper.

He continues thrusting through your orgasm, prolonging the waves of pleasure that crash over you. You're trembling beneath him, completely at his mercy, your body responding to his every touch.

He buries himself to the hilt inside you, his powerful body tensing as he finally empties himself deep within you. You feel the hot pulses of his release, his cock twitching against your sensitive walls. His face, usually so controlled and arrogant, is transformed by pleasure, his features softening in a way only his wife gets to witness.

"Fuck, baby" he breathes against your neck, his body collapsing partially onto yours, careful not to crush you. 

A shiver runs down your spine as his voice, low and filled with desire, sends waves of longing through you. "Sukuna..." you breathe.

His eyes flash with hunger at the sound of his name falling from your lips, and you both know this moment is just the beginning of an unforgettable night.

And as Sukuna lays you out on the bed, his eyes roving over your naked form, you know that this night, this moment, is everything you've ever wanted.  Everything you never knew you needed.  Everything you'll never let go of again.  This is you and Sukuna, bound together by the unbreakable threads of your love.  This is your happily ever after, and it's only just beginning.

EPILOGUE

Five Years Later

On his rare day off, Sukuna lounged lazily on the couch, sipping tea while early morning cartoons played on the television. His son sat beside him, eyes glued to the screen—until something much more pressing caught his attention.

“Dada,” the two-year-old tugged at the hem of Sukuna’s shirt, too short to reach his arms. His little brows furrowed in confusion. “Why is Mama getting so big now?”

Sukuna nearly choked on his drink, coughing between bouts of laughter. Of all the questions he expected this morning, that wasn’t one of them.

“Well—” he started, debating whether he should just let you handle this one. “You’re going to have a little brother or sister soon. They’re growing in Mama’s belly right now.”

“Whaaat?!” Your son gasped, his eyes widening in shock. “She ate my brother or sister?! We have to save them!”

Before Sukuna could refine his explanation, the toddler was already sprinting toward the kitchen, a look of fierce determination on his tiny face.

You glanced up from setting the table just in time to see your son charging at you—foam noodle in hand like a mighty sword.

“Mama, why did you eat my sister or brother?!” he demanded, wielding the noodle with the confidence of a hero about to vanquish a great evil.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted Sukuna casually sauntering in behind him. He met your gaze, smirked, and gave a lazy shrug before plopping down at the dining table, clearly ready to eat.

You sighed before ruffling your son's hair. “Sweetie, I didn’t eat them,” you reassured, crouching down to his level. “You were in my belly once too. Your little sibling is just growing there until they’re ready to meet you. I promise they’re okay.”

Your son blinked up at you, processing this new revelation before slowly lowering his foam sword.

Satisfied, you gently took the noodle from his hands and scooped him into his high chair, setting his breakfast in front of him. As you turned back to the table, you caught Sukuna already digging into his food like he hadn’t eaten in days. The second he met your stare, he paused, lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“Don’t give me that look, woman,” he drawled. “I needed a stamina refill after last night.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You’re the one who kept going for more rounds!”

His deep chuckle rumbled through the room, and despite yourself, you laughed along with him.

The three of you enjoyed breakfast together, lighthearted banter filling the air. As you ate, the conversation drifted to potential names for the baby.

After much deliberation (and some very questionable suggestions from Sukuna) your son made the final call.

“Kayo,” he decided firmly, for a little sister.

“And Kaen,” he added with equal confidence, for a little brother.

Both were perfect. Just like this little life you and Sukuna were building together.

<- Part 2

A/N This is the final chapter of this story! I'm kinda sad because it's over, but I had a lot of fun writing it. It's the first ever multi-fic thing I've ever actually done. I still am really shy and nervous about writing smut, so if anyone has tips or writing advice, I will gladly take them! Now that this is done, I will now be focusing on Where You Left Me (Reader/Sukuna Zombie AU)

masterlist | jjk masterlist

tags: @darkfaerietails

[entries-byemambo]

The LIs Going to the Nail Salon: A Headcanon

So after talking with my best friend @space-of-sk in our private thread on Discord cause our friends know we're crazy for this game, I was sitting at my salon today and thinking about how each LI would conduct themselves if they spent time at my salon. All they're asking for is a manicure and it ends up being my turn to service them. I don't know them nor do I know where they're from in terms of existing in a video game. This is for shits and giggles because being a nail tech is my day job that I consider a side hustle (because I'm actually an illustrator/artist!)

Xavier

First off, he would be in awe of how our salon is decorated. My manager decorates our space based on the passing seasons (since Valentine's is over, we're moving onto St. Patrick's Day!), so he'll definitely point that out to me. My manager is using green star shaped balloons for the decor so he'll definitely get a kick out of that just like I do, they're so cute and plump.

Because our salon is pretty big, calling for our clients when it's their turn can be a nightmare sometimes, and luckily for me, I'm calling his name multiple times because he is literally dozing off in the front lobby despite all the noise. When I finally get his attention, he's having a hard time understanding my directions to get to my station towards the back of the salon, so I'm gesturing him to just GET over here please because now everyone's staring at how awkward our interaction is.

I first gauge that he might not want to talk too much during the service since he's spending so much of that time looking around and being intrigued by all the stimuli going on (the machines, the pedicure stations, the clients chatting up a storm, did someone say they want a mimosa?), but after a few minutes, I ask him the basic questions: have you been here before? is this your first manicure? are you enjoying the session so far? what do you do for work?

Once this man starts going on and on and on about all the various side quests he has, I start trying to recognize the pattern (thank you ADHD) and while not being able to find one, I interrogate him about why he has so many job experiences despite being so young. But once I realized that it is inappropriate to ask someone that out of the blue at the drop of the hat, I change the conversation by asking him if he plans on eating anything after our session is over. Which is how I learned that he burned breakfast earlier and opted for hot pot for the fifth time that week.

Zayne

Although he works overtime at a hospital, I feel like people underestimate the stimuli in my salon: the volume, the smell of the various chemicals, the chatter, it's ultimately very overwhelming for many people (just from me asking clients for the many years I've been working at this place). I think he would first try to block out as much of the noise by listening to his own music, which after getting his attention and working on his nails in the meantime, we can both listen to our own music at our own leisure.

However, I notice just how incredibly stiff this man is while I'm working on his service, which is common amongst many of my clients who work in these very strenuous occupations (medical, corporate, etc.). The concept of "relaxing" is simply out of their grasp so I know that I have to gentle parent them into relaxing as much as they can, especially because so many of them don't even realize that they're doing it in the first place.

Once I'm able to get Zayne's attention by softly tapping his hands, at first, he'll tense up even more out of confusion, but after informing him about relaxing in a playful manner, he realizes what he's doing and eventually releases his tension. After attempting to make small talk and hope that I can make him more comfortable by distracting him through conversation, I learn about his cardiac surgeon experience, while gives him an avenue to yap about his medical experience. I also take this opportunity to ask him questions I have about the medical practice, which helps him further relax in an unfamiliar space.

Rafayel

First off, having someone so luxurious at my salon would intimidate me right away because why are you here in my presence? I feel honored, not gonna lie. And immediately take him in for the service. He would definitely ask me about my tools and what they're all used for, since I have experience of many male clients who ask such questions to familiarize themselves with the foreign environment they're in. After asking him what he does for a living, I immediately tell him about also being an artist, which becomes our main point of interest during the session.

What kind of materials do you use for your painting? Have you tackled digital art before? I'm also traditionally trained and became an artist ever since I was young. I also enjoy nature as my muse and main subject, but I haven't tackled ocean or water before in my work. How did you discover the ocean and aquatic life to be your main focus? Oh, you're from an area close to the ocean? That's really cool!

And with a little nudge, he asks me if I do designs on nails (quick answer: yes, but not all the crazy stuff and not every single time I come to work because it's very tedious!) After asking him if he wanted to do his nails today, with an excited nod, I smile and open my Pinterest app so we can get started on what he'd like on his nails. We went with some chrome line art with a more cool toned color palette consisting of blues and purple. This man ends up skipping to his car in the parking lot after paying and bidding me goodbye.

Sylus

Again, why is such a luxurious man doing here in my salon and I'm honored but scared? After he puts his coat on the back of his chair and tries to sit comfortably, our legs are definitely bumping each other under the table because of how tall this man is. It sounds cute but no, it actually sends chills down my spine because holy shit I'm so sorry, I'm not trying to play footsies with you. And then I'm tense as fuck trying to keep myself from touching him unnecessarily.

He definitely picks up on my tension and actually starts the conversation first, asking me how long I've been working here and if I'm from the area. After realizing that he's just trying to make me more comfortable, I start to ease up and answer his questions, asking him if he's from the area and what he does for a living.

This man sells fruit? Well ok then LOL. I'm thinking in my head because with that face card? Please. Keeping myself from trying to make corny jokes, I keep myself from asking further about his job, moving on to asking if he has any hobbies he engages with in his free time. When I heard that he's a collector, we then talk about music and the like. Realizing that this man is not only charming, but sassy without even trying amuses me, and allows me to finish his service with no issues. AND THIS MAN TIPPED ME $200 DOLLARS ON A $37 TAB??? I THOUGHT YOU SELL FRUIT?

Caleb

He to me, would be the most amusing and fun to work with. Not only does it seem like he knows his way around the salon, but he immediately starts a conversation a few minutes after we sit down and start the process. I have no problem answering any of his curious questions, since he's asking from a genuine place. I then learn that he has a female friend that grew up alongside him as a family member, always smiling while talking about her when he talks about the past.

After some moments, I'm getting suspicious and ask him if he likes her at all. Noticing how his ears got red and he's trying to change the subject because I asked straight liquor, no chaser, I immediately shut up while scolding myself because why you being so vô duyên (iykyk). But then my ears immediately perk up to "it's that obvious, huh?"

HELL YEAH BOY. And then I immediately start doing what I do best: this man spills everything about how much he likes this girl and how much she means to him. To which I'm just there like "ASK HER OUT, YOU DOOFUS?" Of course, there he goes again worried about ruining the relationship they currently have and not wanting to cross boundaries. Or that's what I thought until he shows me a picture of them at his graduation with her kissing him on the cheek like ok girl...(endearingly cause go get your girl)

[starshideurfics]

A Mother’s Love - Part Seven

part one… part six

Steddie, omegaverse, wayne x benny, the plot appears, mdni🔞

Steve’s panties are soaked, clinging to his pussy, all from kissing Eddie.

From finally kissing Eddie.

Eddie’s hands are on his waist, holding him in place, and Steve can feel how hard he is through their jeans. All from kissing.

He pulls back to catch his breath, and Eddie tucks his face to Steve’s neck, nuzzling below his ear. Blunt teeth drag over Steve’s mating gland, and he moans, his pussy clenching as his dick twitches in his pants. Steve grinds down, feels so powerful when Eddie gasps against his neck, confident enough to murmur, “Let’s go upstairs.”

Eddie freezes underneath him, but they’re both panting, the sounds of their breathing filling the room. Slowly, Eddie lifts his face to gaze up at Steve, dark eyes shining, and Steve is forced to confront his shiner again. Eddie’s been protecting him for years, and now he’s been hurt, even if he claims it isn’t that bad. He can’t help it, his thumb moves to delicately trace over Eddie’s eyebrow, bending to softly kiss his forehead above the bruise.

“Steve?” Eddie breathes, his grip on Steve’s waist like a vice, grounding them both.

“My parents are out of town, and I don’t want to be alone,” Steve murmurs. “I want you to stay.” He can feel the conflict in Eddie’s emotions—the desperation and desire and devotion warring with honor and respect and fear. “Please, Eddie, come upstairs.”

His sweet alpha—and Steve knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Eddie is his—simply nods, staring at him with such profound adoration that Steve feels on fire with it. He grins as they separate, taking Eddie’s hand in his and dragging him up to his room.

The air is thick when they cross the threshold, filled with tension and possibility. Eddie has been in Steve’s room before, but now he’s an alpha being invited into an omega’s space. It feels more intimate than having Eddie’s tongue in his mouth, more intimate than rubbing his clothed pussy over Eddie’s hard-on.

And it is. Steve has every intention of losing his virginity, now, to Eddie. Of being filled and knotted and so, so wet.

Of making love.

Even though the house is empty, Steve closes the door behind them. He guides Eddie over to sit on the edge of his bed, just outside his nest, and reaches back to take off his shirt, tossing it in a corner. Eddie’s seen him plenty without a shirt before, what with how much swimming they do all summer, but now he has permission to stare. Steve’s nipples feel tight, sensitive, and he’s sure they’re peaked.

Eddie’s mouth hangs open, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Steve wants Eddie’s mouth on him, imagines that tongue swirling around his nipple, and shivers.

He takes the two steps to close the distance between them, and reaches for the hem of Eddie’s shirt. That’s enough to get Eddie to pull it off himself. Eddie’s lanky, his muscles wiry instead of bulky, but strong. And he’s pale, his own pink nipples looking like rose petals against cream. Steve brushes a thumb over one and purrs, inviting Eddie to touch him back.

Eddie presses a kiss to his sternum, and whispers, “So pretty, Stevie. Beautiful.” Then he does exactly what Steve wants, kisses over to his nipple and sucks.

Another trickle of slick fills Steve’s panties.

Steve reaches for the button of his jeans with one hand, the fingers of the other threaded through Eddie’s curls to hold him in place, to keep his lips and tongue on Steve’s tit. Eddie nips, teeth scraping over sensitive skin, and Steve moans, begging, “More, Eddie, please!”

A possessive purr rumbles through Eddie’s chest, his arm locking around Steve’s waist as he nips harder, hand coming up to pinch the other nipple. Then he leans back to admire his handiwork, Steve’s nipples red and hard, before guiding Steve’s mouth down to his. They fall back into kissing easy as breathing, Steve sinking down to straddle Eddie’s lap again, reminding him what’s waiting for him.

It takes a minute to get Eddie to let go of him, his alpha whining as Steve loosens his hold, but then Steve can step back and unzip his fly. He pulls down his jeans and panties, lets them fall to the floor and kicks them aside. His socks stay on.

Eddie’s attention zooms in on Steve’s dick, small and hard and covered in slick from his pussy, standing out from the dark thatch of his bush. He looks up at Steve, awe in his eyes, along with the hint of a question, and Steve answers with a tiny nod.

A single callused finger slides along his pussy lips and strokes up the underside of his dick. Eddie immediately slips the finger into his mouth and moans at the taste. “So sweet, Stevie.”

“Eddie,” Steve husks, breathing suddenly shallow. “Touch me.”

The finger returns, touch careful as Eddie slips it inside.

It’s so different from having his own fingers in his pussy; Eddie can reach places Steve can’t, can rub in ways Steve can’t, and he feels himself hurtling towards the edge. His whole body tingles. His pussy aches. Steve wants-

“Stop.”

Eddie freezes.

“I wanna come on your knot.”

“Steve,” Eddie groans, “I dunno if I can last-”

Steve presses his thumb quickly to Eddie’s eye socket.

“Ow!”

“Do you think you can last now?”

“Oh my god! Steve!” But Eddie’s chuckling. He pushes up to his feet, kissing Steve as he does. “Go lay down,” he orders against Steve’s lips. When Steve refuses to budge, Eddie nips at his lip and adds, “I’ll be right there, sweetheart. Let me take my pants off.”

Steve crawls into his nest and sits, watching Eddie strip out of his jeans. He struggles to get his cock out, too hard to maneuver easily, the head dark red and wet. Once Eddie’s bare, Steve can see that his knot has already begun to swell, making the base the slightest bit thicker than the rest of him. Saliva pools under Steve’s tongue.

He has enough sense still to crawl over to his bedside table and pull a condom from the box in the drawer, smiling sheepishly as Eddie climbs into his nest beside him. Gently, he rolls the condom down Eddie’s length, fingers trailing further to cup his balls, to explore him.

Then Eddie’s guiding him to lie back, covering his body with his own, kissing him with such tenderness that he almost doesn’t feel Eddie slip inside. But as he pushes deeper, the discomfort grows, Steve’s pussy stretching too fast. At the same time he feels the intensity of Eddie’s pleasure, the ecstasy of being sheathed in tight, wet heat.

Eddie moves his hips, his hand finding Steve’s, lacing their fingers together, still kissing like he’ll die without Steve’s lips on his. Steve can feel his orgasm building, intensified by feeling Eddie’s as well, and Steve comes hard, feels it in every part of his body as a cry rips from his throat. He feels the pressure of Eddie’s knot inside him, tying them together, and he wraps his legs around Eddie’s waist, tying his own knot. “I love you,” he whispers, exhausted and overwhelmed and so deliriously happy.

“Love you so much, Stevie,” Eddie whispers back. With those words in his ears, Steve drifts off to sleep, barriers still down to feel the warmth of Eddie’s love in his chest.

❤️❤️❤️

Steve wakes with a scream, heart pounding in abject terror. He cries out for his mother. Needs his mother.

Something terrible has happened, but he doesn’t have the words. He falls asleep again, crying against Eddie’s chest.

❤️❤️❤️

Steve wake before dawn to the feeling of fingers on his scalp as Eddie lazily plays with his hair. “Go back to sleep, Stevie.”

“Can’t.” His heart is pounding again just remembering the fear he felt.

“It was probably someone having a nightmare.”

“Eddie…”

“We don’t know how… everything we did last night will affect you. C’mon, sweetheart, it’s Hawkins. Nothing here to be that scared of, right?”

“I guess,” Steve agrees softly. He still hasn’t fixed his barriers; having Eddie’s emotions jumbled up with his is comforting. And then it hits him: “I’m going to have to tell my mom.”

“What?” Eddie asks, nonchalantly, still focused on swirling patterns along Steve’s skin.

“That we had sex. I’m gonna have to tell her we had sex and that it did weird things to my range.”

“Do I… have to be around for that conversation?”

“I’d prefer if you weren’t.”

“Thank god.”

Steve hums, tucks his nose to Eddie’s neck so he can breathe his spicy, wild mint scent. “But her and Dad won’t be home until Wednesday… I really don’t want to be out here alone.”

“You want me to spend the night again?”

“Yes.” Steve presses a kiss to Eddie’s pulse point. “I know I could spend the night at Mama’s, but…” It feels silly to say, that he just wants to be with Eddie. That now that he has him like this he never wants to be away from him. Silly, teenage notions about love that he can’t shake.

Eddie’s hand comes up to cup Steve’s cheek, guiding Steve to look at him in the dim morning light. He smiles and Steve feels his heart flip-flop in his chest. “We can make spaghetti, do our homework, make a night of it.” Softly, he kisses Steve’s forehead, and glances over at Steve’s clock. “Still a couple hours before we need to get up. Please, just try to sleep? For me?”

“I’ll try.”

And trying works. Steve drifts off in the safety of Eddie’s arms, waking when Eddie tries to get out from underneath him a bit over an hour later. They both decide they may as well get up, going to take separate showers and getting dressed for the day, Eddie in borrowed underpants and jeans.

Steve makes them sit down to eat breakfast, and he makes fun of Eddie for heaping spoonfuls of sugar onto his Cheerios. “Well, if you had something appropriately sweet here, I wouldn’t need to add anything!”

“I thought I was sweet?”

“You offering to be my breakfast, sweetheart?” Eddie kisses him then, distracting them both until the remains of their cereal is a step away from mush.

There’s no rush to get to school, but at the door Eddie asks, “We driving separate, or together? Since we’ll just be coming back here…”

Arriving together isn’t that out of the ordinary. Eddie drove Steve plenty before he got his license, and Steve has picked Eddie up when his van is in the shop. Still, Steve wants to stake his claim, show off his alpha. “Can you drive, I still feel a bit shaky after…”

“Sure, Stevie, but we should head out now. I need to stop for gas.”

When they walk into Hawkins High from the parking lot, people stare. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are holding hands. They kiss at Steve’s locker. Steve’s got a hickey, and Munson’s got a black eye.

So does Billy Hargrove.

By the start of first period the whole school knows.

By the end of the day, everyone knows that Will Byers is missing.

❤️❤️❤️

Benny is doing prep work in the kitchen before opening, he’s made a test batch of fries to make sure the fryer is up to temp, and is snacking on those instead of eating a real lunch. Janice won’t be in for another hour, open always slow on Mondays. He carries out refills for the napkin dispensers, mind wandering.

Marsha and Richard are out of town, so he’s planning to stop out to check on Steve after school, ask about what happened with the studious alpha girl. They really seemed to be hitting it off, and Benny knows Steve has never brought-

He hears the slightest rustling in the back. Hawkins is small enough and quiet enough that he’s never worried about being robbed—not enough in the till to bother with either—but he moves as silently as he can to check on the source of the noise.

There, scavenging at his basket of test fries, is a child, head shaved and wearing a hospital gown. He must breathe too loudly, and the child looks up, eyes wide with fear, turning to run.

Benny’s instincts make him move faster, catching the pup—the girl—and murmuring, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You ain’t in trouble here.” He checks them over, sees no shoes on their feet, but no obvious injuries. “Where’d you come from?” he asks more to himself than the girl, which is for the best since he gets no answer beyond a nervous stare.

He changes tack. “How about we get you something more to eat? You sit down and I’ll get you set up, just need to know your name, huh?” Benny keeps his eye on them, as he goes to the freezer and pulls out the ice cream, not above bribing a pup in order to keep her safe. “My name’s Benny, what’s yours?”

The pup still stares, and Benny was worried before, but now he’s pretty certain he’s got an abused child on his hands. “How about your favorite flavor? My son loves a chocolate shake, but maybe you like vanilla?”

“Chocolate.”

“Alright, your tongue works. I’m glad to hear it. One chocolate shake coming right up.”

The girl smiles, and shivers.

“You cold?”

A nod.

Benny heads to his office to grab one of Wayne’s flannels, offering it slowly to her, smiling when she accepts it with a smile of her own. “Sit on down, I’ll be right over with that shake…”

“Eleven.”

The word reverberates through Benny’s brain. Marsha said the program was shuttered. That she was pretty sure Brenner wasn’t even in Indiana anymore. And yet here he has a pup with a number for a name in his diner.

They aren’t safe here. He’s not sure they’ll safe be anywhere. But he promised her a shake, his hands moving easily through the motions of making one, pouring it into a styrofoam to-go cup.

He needs to get her to Wayne, and then he needs to find his son.

❤️❤️❤️

Even with his barriers back in place, the school day is long for Steve. Exhausting.

Nancy smiles at him when he tells her he hopes they can still be friends; she’s heard, just like everyone else, about him and Eddie. She only looks a little sad, wistful maybe, as she says, “Sure, I still need my algebra study buddy.”

Billy glares a hole through Steve’s head, but Nancy sticks close to him until the bell rings, keeping anyone else from approaching. It’s a real kindness, one Steve wasn’t expecting. He hopes Billy doesn’t give Nancy a hard time over it.

During sixth period, Cartwright has the radio on while they do their lab work, an alert cutting into the broadcast asking for anyone with information regarding the whereabouts of 12-year-old Will Byers to contact the Hawkins PD.

The Byerses don’t live that far from Steve. If Will’s been missing since last night… But what good does knowing someone was scared do? He doesn’t know if it was Will or not. He doesn’t know anything for certain.

But he wants to help.

When the last bell finally rings, Steve rushes to meet Eddie, easily tucking himself against his alpha’s side as they make their way to the parking lot. Steve talks quietly, probably a bit too fast, trying to justify himself, “I don’t know why, but I can just- I feel it. In my gut. And it makes sense, if he was home that’d be pretty close, for a feeling that big, it might not even be out of my normal range. I just don’t know what to do, I should ask Mama-”

“Well, he’s right there,” Eddie interrupts, pointing across the lot to Benny, waiting outside his truck.

“He musta heard about Will, too. Got nervous. You know how he is.” Steve takes Eddie by the hand and drags him along as he half-runs to reach his mother.

Benny is silent, but he catches Steve to his chest, holding him so tight it hurts.

“Mama,” Steve whines, “You’re squishing me.”

“Hush,” Benny chides, but he relaxes his hold. “Baby, I need you to be extra careful right now. No talking to anyone you don’t know, no going anywhere you don’t need to, I don’t want you alone in that big house tonight-”

“Mama, I know Will Byers is missing. And I’m a little old for stranger danger.”

“This ain’t about Will Byers-”

“But I think I felt it, Mama! Will going missing.”

“What?”

Steve tries to explain again, and Benny quickly cuts him off. “We need to go.” Only then does he notice Steve still holding Eddie’s hand. “And when did this happen?”

“Last night.”

“Wayne owes me ten bucks.”

“Mama!”

“Not now. Eddie, we’re just going to your place, Wayne’s waiting, we’ll meet you there.”

Steve pouts. “Can’t I ride with Eddie?”

“Baby, I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know what’s going on.”

❤️❤️❤️

Eddie makes it back to the house first, surprised when he needs to pull his keys back out to unlock the door. Inside, the TV is on, and he can hear PBS playing from the living room. Normally, Wayne would be asleep, and with his hackles already raised by everything that’s happened so far, Eddie is on edge.

He walks in to find Wayne on the couch sitting next to a kid. A kid wrapped in a blanket, absolutely enthralled by the tranquility of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. “Um… Wayne?” Eddie asks, drawing his uncle’s attention.

“Hey,” Wayne says with a nod.

The front door opens again, hinges creaking. Steve and Benny come in behind Eddie, Steve’s eyes going wide as he takes in the scene before him. “Oh,” he whispers, staring at the kid, whose head snaps to him, their eyes locking.

“How’s she doing?” Benny asks, hands settling on Steve’s shoulders.

“Good. Nothing exciting to report since you left.”

Benny nods. “Steve, Eddie, meet Eleven.”

“Eleven,” Steve echoes, and the girl pushes to her feet, crawling out from her blanket.

She gives Eddie an appraising look, and moves past, tentatively reaching up toward’s Steve’s cheek. “Brother,” she whispers, her fingers still ghosting above his skin, not ready to make contact.

Steve leans into the touch, and his world explodes in a riot of pain and fear and confusion.

[viking-goat-420]

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating; MA

Paring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Summary; Sam runs off after a fight with Dean leaving you and Dean alone and it's up to you to cheer him up.

Warnings; dirty talk, titty fucking, face sitting, oral (m/f), slight cock warming if you squint

N/A: This is not proof read at all and I know it's been a while since I posted something but this came to me.

Groaning as you let the hot water wash over glad that the hunt was over. Things had gone all wrong and now it was just you and Dean. Sam had taken off after throwing one of his tantrums. You knew Dean was upset about Sam leaving and you had an idea to help him relax. After your shower, you find your lace boy shorts and one of Dean's shirts and head out to the sitting room in the bunker, where you find Dean with a glass in his hand.

“Dean? Baby, let me help you relax,” you say, laying your hands on his shoulders and kissing his neck softly, making him groan. You feel his rough hand grab yours and lead you to stand in front of him.

“Fuck baby, you are so beautiful,” he says, leaning forward, his rough hands rubbing up your thighs, and your hands go into his hair. Dean leans back and takes you with him, having you straddle him, and his hands go to your hips.

“And I'm all yours, Dean,” you say softly, leaning down to kiss him softly. You moan as you feel his rough fingers go around your neck, and he pulls you back to look at him.

“All mine huh? My good girl?” He growls softly, his eyes never leaving yours, and you rock your hips lightly. Dean's free hand on your hip tightens and helps you rock your hips.

“Yes, Dean, all yours,” you moan as his hand reaches down to grab onto your ass. Dean pulls you down kisses you deeply and nips at your lip making you moan and open your mouth

“Show me how much of a good girl you are for me,” he says against your lips. You lean back and take off your shirt leaving you in only your underwear and Dean takes a moment to lean down and sucks a nipple into his mouth making you moan and arch your back into him. He finally lets you go and he leans back and takes his shirt off. You lick your lips and push him back into the chair and you leave a trail of bites and kisses down his body till you reach his pants.

“I have wanted to suck you off in this chair for a long time” you say up at him from your spot on the floor as you undo his pants and Dean chuckles that turns into a groan when he feels your hot little hand wrapped around him slowly stroking him.

“Go ahead sweetheart suck me” he says, threading his fingers in your hair as you wrap your lips around the head of his leaking cock and you watch as Dean's head falls back on the chair and he moans as you take him down your throat sucking him just how he likes it.

“I wanna try something” you say as you get on your knees even closer to his cock than before. Dean watches you as you jack him off, only stopping to let a glob of spit slide out of your mouth and down his cock and he groans.

“Fuck baby yes” he groans an you let him go for a moment only to grab each breast and slide his cock in-between then and you lick the tip.

“Can I titty fuck you daddy?” You ask looking up at him sweetly. You can feel him throb and you lick the tip and moan at his taste on your tongue.

“Holy fuck yes baby fuck my cock with your tits” he groans as you rub up and down your chin and upper body covered in precum and spit and you suck on him as you move and you could tell Dean was close by the way he grabbed your head and held you still as he fucked your throat making you moan and rub his balls till he cums down your throat.

“Feel better?” You ask with a grin as you look up at him as you clean yourself off with the shirt and Dean pulls you up kissing you deeply not giving you a chance to open for him as he shoves his tounge down your throat and you kiss back your fingers tug in his hair.

“I'm not done with you yet” he says, grabbing you and standing up carrying you to the bed.

“Dean please don't make me wait” you whine as he takes off his jeans and strokes his hard cock. You bite your lip and grab your nipple pulling and rubbing it sending little shocks through your body.

“Take those off and show me what's mine” Dean growls his hand spreading up as he watches you take off the soaked panties and you open your legs for him to see your soaked cunt.

“This what you want to see daddy? Wanna see how soaked I am just from sucking you off?” You moan rubbing your clit as you watch him jerk himself off and without warning your hand is removed and he smacks your cunt making you cry out.

“I did say you could do that, now come here” he growls as he lays on his back and grabs you placing your soaked cunt over his mouth. Dean loved to eat you out and would do it 24/7 if he could and he wasts no time pulling your cunt flush to his face and you cry out.

“Ah fuck dean I love when you eat my pussy! Fuck oh God! Oh Dean” you moan and cry out not caring about being quiet since it was just you two. Dean pulls back and you lock eyes with his as he sucks on your clit sending you over the edge and you cum hard squirting all over his face. Dean lays you on your back in the bed and kisses up your body stopping at your breasts to kiss and suck on them.

“Spread your legs for me baby I need to feel you make a mess on me” he says as he nips your ear lobe making you moan and you spread your legs wrapping them around him as he kisses you.

“Don't be gentle Dean I can take it” you say huskily as you pull him in for a deep kiss as he enters you making you both moan at the feeling.

“Ah fuck baby always so tight” he groans an you tighten around him making him snarl. Dean's hand goes around your throat lightly as he fucks you deep and hard your nails leaving marks on his back as you keep eye contact as he pounds into you.

“Ah Dean more! Bite me! Claw me! Fuck me good and Raw!” You moan huckly into his ear before you bite into his neck leaving a mark behind and he snarls as his thrusts gets harder.

“You want it rough? Huh? I'll give it to you rough” he growls his normal bright green eyes where almost black with lust as he pulls out and flips you over till your on your hands and knees. Dean smacks your ass hard before grabbing a handful of hair pulling you flush to his body.

“Fuck yes use me” you moan high on the feeling Dean was giving you, he was the only one who could. Deans shoves his cock back into you as he fucks you roughly his hold on your hair keeping you in place where he wanted as he fucked you. A loud smack is heard throughout the room as he smacks your ass.

“More! Oh fuck im gonna cum” you cry out pushing back meeting his thrusts taking him even deeper.

“Not yet” he he breaths heavily pulling out and flipping you back over into your back. He leans down an kisses you as he enters you picking up the same pace, your nails leaving marks in his back as he fucks you hard and deep his mouth sucking and biting your neck up to your ear.

“Dean please I can't” you moan your body burning up as you fought to keep from coming. Dean groans as you tighten around him his thrusts getting sloppy.v

“Cum for me? Fucking squirt for me baby” he growls in your ear and you cum hard your body is flooded with the high that only Dean can give you as you cum all over Dean and the bed.

You have no clue how long you had laid there blinking into space as your world slowly comes back around you.

“There's my good girl” says softly as he holds you. In your time of bliss Dean had cleaned you up and crawled into bed with you.

“I blacked out?” You ask confused at the missing moments leading up to now. Making Dean chuckle and kiss the top of your head.

“Yeah you could say that, rest up I told you what I plan on doing” he smirks and you lean up and kiss him softly.

“Only if your cock is inside me will I rest” you smirk and Dean groans.

[shejinxed]

im moving jinx to a multi muse as a tester muse so if you want to keep up and follow, you can find her over at @saiinted!

[taviokapudding]

My dad and I were chatting before bed when he said "damn shame Republicans hate Democrats too much because you almost saved the United Healthcare ceo"

And I stared at him in confusion until I remembered I convinced Democrats to write the active shooter alert system bill in 2022 & Republicans said no. Since my Twitter is gone, the thread of me @ everyone is gone. And when Trump got re-elected, I removed the video discussing the bill concept for public comments. It fully slipped my mind because I went from pulling teeth & being reluctantly patient to full on cussing, cursing, and hexing the government by the end of 2023.

I hope that Twitter DC staffer is having a good laugh- I bet their bosses are pissed wwwwww

I don't remember the exact wording I wrote to the White House when I cussed out Biden for funding war crimes (2023) & the bill itself (2022) but I did list consequences I foresaw that are happening now, so suck to suck if nobody listened & are on the receiving end of massive hexes

I guess my dad is right, the GOP technically killed Brian Thompson in 2022

[iniziare]

do you write?

Mel semi-dared me to type: “No, leave me alone.” So I have to include it. But in all seriousness, I'll respond this once, because it does allow me to update people a little bit. Though please know that your notification did have me pause mid-writing. Now, I want to politely, and respectfully direct you to my description on both dash-only and on my blog's theme, I also want to point your attention to my pinned post, and I believe that it's even in my rules, but I could be wrong. Though let me repeat it here:

The depictions you'll find here are canon-strict, and so you can expect many analyses of all kinds here, as dissecting the characters that I write is what I'm passionate about, and what I'm here for (and to write, of course!)

I admit, usually I aim to write more threads/asks consistently even if I'm excessively slow, and though I haven't updated the dash about my circumstances for a while (as I'm decently private about my life), know that writing meta has simply come a lot easier lately when time has permitted me to be on Tumblr. Now, that doesn't mean I don't value people's interest in writing with me, and I will live up to the promises that I've made that I will get to that (as I have occasionally done lately, and was in process of doing again)— but when meta comes easier to me, then I prioritize that as of late, simply because stress' best counter is the distraction that comes the easiest. Now this isn't by any means a waste of time, as it plays into what I quoted above. Because ultimately, here's my thing: I make it exceptionally clear everywhere on my blog that I am canon-strict (or as Tumblr, sadly, disrespectfully seems to call it nowadays: a 'lore purist'), and that this leads me to write a lot of analyses left and right on the characters that I write, but these are fundamental to understanding my portrayals of them. If that isn't your cup of tea, sir, or ma'am, then maybe this isn't the blog for you, and I don't mean that with malice, or in disrespect, but simply as a simple rebuke. In that, I greatly appreciate you checking in on behalf of my writing partners, but I'm also quite certain that they have the capacity to approach me themselves if they have any concerns. Have a nice day or night, wherever you are!