#i just! [punches air] fucking ! love ! dynamics !

[billdenbrough]

also for all my starmora posting and texting if u have had to suffer that, the thing that struck me most when leaving gotg 3 was. nebula/mantis. like. obviously starmora was always gonna murder me and it DID and also rocket being the heart of the story was gonna fuck me up and it DID but the thing that absolutely blindsided me with how much it meant to me was nebulantis, especially because of that One Scene on the flying pyramid

but every scene built up to it!! like. starlord’s “she calls me star lord when she’s mad at me” met by mantis’ grumpy little “she’s always mad at everyone”, the way mantis complains to drax about how she can’t know things if nobody tells her after nebula (and gamora, but nebula is the one that makes her mad) yells at her about the spacesuits, the “why do you criticise everything? it’s a different sound” “uh, no it isn’t. [imitates mantis] eurgh, dying, eurgh, dumbass. it’s the same sound!”

and all of that leads to that moment on the ship, when nebula shoves drax and mantis yells at her that she doesn’t have the right to push him, and nebula fires back at her about always supporting weakness. and then mantis says the thing that has haunted me since watching lmao: “fine! i don’t care! i know you have to find fault in everyone else to feel better about yourself – so find fault in me! but you don’t have the right to push him!”

and the way nebula just. stares at her. mantis saying he loves us and makes us laugh, how is that weakness? mantis saying he has sadness but he is the only of you who doesn’t hate himself. so i don’t care if he is stupid. LIKE. it just slams right into me i think bc her entire life, nebula’s value has been determined by her success. she never won against gamora, so she was tortured, pulled apart piece by piece, thanos always saying it was to help her get ‘better’. nebula who fulfils EVERY ROLE in the team—not so much emotional active support but caretaker, pilot, living weapon, ultimate defender, local robot—because that’s what she has to do to be worth keeping around. nebula, whose self-worth issues were built into her from childhood.

and here is mantis saying who cares that someone isn’t the best if they love you, if they make you laugh. who cares about strength when someone matters to you? what is strength to love? what is it?

and then, when rocket’s voice comes through the intercom and nebula stops still, swallows, says “rocket?” in that voice biting back all the emotions she doesn’t usually let herself express, and the camera pans to mantis looking at her. to mantis seeing nebula on the other side of grief, what it looks like for her to finally exhale this held breath she’s had, bc rocket was the only person she had for five years (“i’m family,” gamora says; “so is he,” nebula replies levelly), and he’s going to be okay. it’s this amazing one-two moment of two people who have been ostensibly teammates but really at odds the entire movie look at each other and really see each other, really understand what the other stands for, who they are. god!!!!

and then when drax and nebula form a little shield in front of mantis at the end when they’re all in the pit and mantis steps past them both, despite nebula’s protests. at the very end, when nebula decides to lead the city; this girl who is a weapon, laying down her arms to try give these little girls the childhood she never had. at the very end, when mantis strikes her own path—the girl who always ‘finds weakness in others and supports it’, leading her three companion beasts into the unknown universe, just to find herself.

and that last moment, when mantis says to all of them, “i love you all,” with that half beat before all, and she nods at nebula. it’s just. holy fuck. there were some real masterclasses in relationship dynamics and development in this film, but nebula & mantis were largely an undercurrent beneath the surface, but no less impactful, no less poignant for it. god. god

[sunnami]

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.” 

You blink. 

“Get the fuck out of my room!” 

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making. 

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls. 

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!” 

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze.  Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!” 

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly. 

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.” 

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.” 

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say. 

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies. 

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”  

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.” 

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—” 

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.” 

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you. 

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”) 

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—” 

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.” 

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?” 

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.” 

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home. 

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)  

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that. 

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”) 

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.” 

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze. 

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.” 

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much. 

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.” 

“I know.” Harry grins. 

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.” 

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally. 

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)  

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow. 

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers. 

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.” 

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.” 

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you. 

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast. 

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.) 

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?” 

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.” 

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you. 

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.” 

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze. 

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.” 

“Oi!” 

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.” 

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.” 

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary. 

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.” 

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”) 

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.” 

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.” 

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!” 

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?” 

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically. 

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name. 

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now. 

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?” 

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.” 

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right? 

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.” 

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily. 

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.” 

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.” 

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable. 

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced. 

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear. 

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.” 

Harry’s eye twitches. 

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.” 

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly. 

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?” 

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.” 

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.” 

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.” 

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading. 

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands. 

“In your dreams!” You shrill. 

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.” 

Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.” 

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?” 

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.” 

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?” 

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?” 

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat. 

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.” 

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this. 

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes. 

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.” 

“One date, then.” 

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?” 

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.” 

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.” 

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you. 

“And I want to—” 

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—” 

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.  

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration. 

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words. 

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.” 

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.” 

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.) 

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance. 

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.” 

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm. 

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.” 

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.” 

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth. 

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He falls in love.) 

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.” 

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?” 

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.” 

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.” 

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.” 

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.” 

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

[catscidr]

// taking care of your dogboy (hsr edition!) //

i. note — sry i havent been posting yall i got a job + ive been working on three cosplays at the same time bc my local con is coming up lmao (´ཀ`」 ∠) however the brainrot never stops. it only takes a break. a little break of approximatively. a month. ish. ......... anyways dog hybrid hsr boys brainrot !!! lmk if we want more of this with more boys •ᴗ• comments and asks are appreciated hehe ii. includes — blade, gepard, boothill and gn!reader iii. cw — slice of life stuff turning into smut, possessive behaviour, overstim, slight dom/sub dynamics, real messy stuff, manhandling. use of the word "hole" to keep reader gender neutral iv. wc — 1,9k

blade is a mutt riddled in scars and dirty bandages from living on the streets and fighting to survive.

you think he might be some german shepherd mix, but he refuses to let you swab his teeth n gums for a dna test (last time you tried you narrowly avoided a punch to the face. he apologized in his own way afterwards), so whenever people ask, just say he’s a rescue to avoid revealing that you actually just… don’t really know what breed he is. they usually drop the subject and simply go on their merry way, seeing as he wasn’t the type of pup to appreciate affection from strangers anyways– it’s rare for you to leave the house in the first place, though.

you had to switch to a remote job because blade is just so persistent when it comes to you. although possessive is a much better descriptor, because he doesn’t let anyone near you. whenever you leave to get groceries he ends up practically breathing down your neck from how close he gets— acting as if he were your literal shadow— glaring at everyone that gets too close to you. you’ve made it a habit to always go to self-checkout lane so blade doesn’t scare off the cashiers.

the second you get home he’s all over you, determined to rid you of that outside stench and replace it with his own. you started packing your grocery bags in a way that nothing will break if (read: when) you suddenly drop them on the floor, all because you’re so familiar with blade’s impatience.

he holds you still by engulfing your body with his, knees caging your hips as he grinds into you, shallow and deep. blade’s growls and huffs fill your ears just as much as his cock fills your hole, his knot kissing your tightness from the outside.

“do you like this? like how i have to fuck you every time you decide to go outside again when you could stay here,” with me blade omits, his tail swishing back and forth on the bedsheets behind him, the sound just barely grounding you to reality.

your grocery bags were long forgotten on the foor (as they usually are), your mind too foggy to function. clawing at the sheets, you try to crawl away from blade’s grip— to no avail.

he tuts, craning his head to bite down onto the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “i might just need to mark you for extra precaution,” he bucks into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. you hear squelching, the constant plap! plap! plap! from his thighs smacking against your ass and whine, broken babbles leaving your kiss-bruised lips.

“b-blade, y’can’t- ah,” he shushes you by plugging you full of his lengthy cock, his knot almost threatening to press inside of you. you whimper, feeling lightheaded from a mix of both nervousness and arousal.

he soothes the hickey he left on your neck, licking it languidly as he stills to bask into the way your hole throbs around him. warm and tight and oh so tempting.

“shit, wanna fill you. wanna… have everyone know they can’t have you. you’re mine, mine to love ‘n mine to fuck,” you’re not lucid enough to process his thinly veiled confession, too busy writhing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to get him to continue moving.

you might want to invest into some good concealer or into those skin coloured tattoo patches to cover the bruises and bite marks blade’ll leave on you if you want to continue being a functioning member of society. you can’t really be walking around in public as if a dog had just mauled you right before you left the house, can you?

gepard is a golden retriever because of COURSE he is. similarly to blade, he likes to invade your personal space a lot— not because he’s possessive, but because he’s extremely protective of you.

the random bruises you used to randomly notice on your body faded as soon as he came into your life. gepard’s soft, lingering touches healed them; gently placing a hand on your hip before you bump into sharp furniture so it doesn’t hit you, redirecting your head to his shoulder as you nod-off in the train before you bang your head, and so on.

it’s a full-time job and he’s working 24/7, always on the lookout for anything that could possibly hurt you as you saunter off… wherever, without a care in the world— because he took care of everything!

he would clean the apartment for you, cook (though you usually insist you do the cooking; a human doesn’t have the same taste in food as a hybrid), and even act as your own personal alarm clock. gone were the days of being woken up by loud, blaring beeping. gepard woke you up with forehead kisses instead, making your mornings much more pleasant.

but poor geppie, he’s always taking care of you; so take care of him, won’t you?

every so often you’ll sit in his lap to help him get rid of whatever stress he held in his body. your hands will knead at the muscles in his broad shoulders, all while you simultaneously kiss away the strain in his face. his brows are furrowed as you do your best to soothe his muscles; you never forget to smooch his cheek, nose and the corner of his lips.

though the attention and gentle acts of affection always ends with your hands lower than they should be.

“ah ah, no touching, remember?” you murmur in his ear playfully. you had been at it for what felt like hours; gepard’s cock and abdomen was smeared with the remnants of his cum, skin tacky from his previous loads. your hand shows no sign of stopping, not even when he begged oh so sweetly.

“c-come onn. just… jus’ wanna kiss…” and who were you to deny your sweet boy? your lips find his in a heartbeat, his tongue swiping over your own sloppily as he breathes you in like a depraved man.

the only condition you had when you did this was for him to keep his hands to himself— at least until you both decide to move on to something else. until then, his fists clench the sheets beneath the both of you, and his ears stay flat on his fluffy head.

“i’m… i’m close again, g- aah, please, please…!” he begs, cock weeping precum as you continuously jerk him off. you smile, absentmindedly rocking your hips to the rhythm you held him prisoner to— gepard was too engulfed in the warmth of your hand to notice, anyways. “cum whenever you want sweet boy,” you purr, and he keens as he buries his face in your neck, his hips lifting off the bed ever so slightly as they meet your hand and he thrusts, riding the high of his orgasm.

sticky cum coats your hand for the nth time; you relent your grip on his cock for his sake, instead choosing to shower him with chaste kisses all over his face. gepard whines, taking ahold of your waist weakly as he breathes into the crook of your neck.

“geppie, your han-“ he cuts you off, swiftly switching positions so you’re now laying on your back as he hovers over you, chest rising and falling quickly, catching his breath from the intensity of his orgasm. gepard’s tail wags slowly behind him as his hands creep up from your waist to your chest just as slowly- you feel his cock harden against your pelvis, precum spilling from his pinky tip.

“‘ts my turn now,” he huffs, leaning down to nip at your neck.

boothill is the most obnoxious dalmatian hybrid you’ve ever seen (not that you’ve seen many, or at all). but he’s made your life so fun so you can’t be too mad at him

he’s always dragging you out of bed to go do something— could be going to the park nearby or sit in the living room playing video games on your dusty console, it doesn’t matter because he’ll MAKE you step out of your cozy nest!!

you’re glad he’s friendly, because you’re not sure how you would handle such an excited hybrid when you left the house. people come up to the both of you to chat and he indulges their questions, essentially leading the conversation (while you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say).

boothill is also great with kids, unexpectedly. 9 times out of 10 when you go to the park he ends up playing with someone’s child, bright smile on his face as he messes up their hair with a rough hand. they’ll throw a frisbee for him to go catch and he’ll do it happily, or he’ll even… teach them how to beat people up.

(you stare mortified as he teaches a little girl how to throw a proper punch only for her to then punch her parent when she leaves boothill’s side. you go up to them and apologize profusely, forcing boothill to bow with you.)

he also loves to help you out, even though he’s not the greatest at household chores— but he definitely tries! though he is a stellar cook, which never fails to surprise you whenever he’s on dinner duty. he just… really sucks at everything else.

it’s… mostly because he just has so much energy. he sweeps the floor? nope, he’s picking off the pieces of the broom off of the floor because he accidentally broke it. he’s fixing your bed? nuh uh, you’re throwing out the ruined bedsheets because he accidentally tore them to shreds somehow.

so, with all of these accidents happening because he’s just brimming with energy 24/7, you started purposely exhausting him. or, rather, gave him the green light to exhaust you until he tires himself out.

“booth-aah, w-wait, you’re being too…!” you fall over on top of his hard chest, keening at the new angle his cock reached inside of you. he repeated his assault on the spot that made you see stars as your jaw gaped, broken moans leaving your lips.

“don’t tell me y’re tapping out.. haa, already!” boothill grunts, his grip on your hips tightening. he throws his head back with a loud moan, abs tensing as he nears yet another climax— the 5th one of the night. maybe, maybe not. you lost count after the third one.

you bury your face into the crook of his neck, focusing on the feeling of his cock plugging you full instead of the soreness, the burn in your muscles that came from your knees holding you up on his lap.

watching you riding him will always be his favourite thing in the world, even if he always ends up fucking up into you and taking back control at the end of the night.

“gonna cu-uum…” you whine, clenching around his length almost painfully tightly, hearing his breathing hitch as an orgasm is ripped out of him in consequence to yours. boothill’s fingers dig into your ass, his hips lifting off the bed as he cums deep inside of your sloppy hole again, sticky fluid building up beneath the sheets.

you collapse on top of him fully, chest heaving against his own as you come back to your senses, slowly but surely. boothill’s ears perk up, hearing how your breathing had evening out.

“so… got another round in ya?”

[httpsserene]

I’m begging you, please write something for us Lance girlies.

𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭-𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞? 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝! - 𝐥𝐬. 𝟏𝟖 | 𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝟒𝟎𝟒: 𝐏𝐍𝐅 |

𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝟒𝟎𝟒: 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞

summary: it’s the most wonderful time of the year! you swear there’s love in the air. however, your friends, family, and fans think you need intensive therapy. content warning: vacation romance. girls trip. love at first sight. fluff. profanity. mentions of reader’s previously failed relationships. reader has a mom and sister. sibling dynamics (bullying). friendship. delusion. reader has a puppy. all photos are from pinterest.  pairing: lance stroll x fem!black!reader

from serene: i wish peace, love, and happiness on everyone’s soul…and i hope my unexpected lance stroll smau series distracts you from the torment of the race weekend. LOL xxx < 3

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents | series toc | next ↻

twitter • ynplays • december 11th

imessage • yn and friends

instagram • ynplays • dec12th • winter wonderland ⚑

liked by kyedae, taytagames, yourmom, and 13,244 others

ynplays: brr 🥶 if only their was a 6-foot, brown-eyed, strong man to keep me warm 😏🥺

tagged yoursister, yourbestie, yourfriend1, yourfriend2

view comments

user1 so it starts 😣

➥ user2 please let this be a normal vacation!!!

➥ user3 with yn??? no way

yourmom i didn't raise you to act like this…

➥ yoursister mom idk where you went wrong with her

➥ ynplays she let me have unmonitored access to the internet

➥ user4 ah that makes sense 🙂‍↕️

➥ user5 that'll do it mhm

yourbestie please can we go inside the fucking resort my ass is freezing as im typing this

➥ yourfriend1 u just mad bc u slipped and busted your ass

➥ yourbestie would you be mad if i punched you so hard yo nose broke?

➥ user6 heyyYYY come getcho friends yn!!!

➥ user7 they about to crash out 😳😳😳

user8 lots of athletes like to go skiing and snowboarding during their winter breaks 👀

➥ yourfriend2 DO NOT give her any ideas, pls im begging you 🧎🏽‍♀️🧎🏽‍♀️🙏🏽🙏🏽

➥ user8 american football players, basketball players, racecar drivers, hockey players, tennis players...😏

➥ ynplays omg ao3 fic, meet-cute, 654k words, love at first sight, strangers to lovers, no angst, happy ending, hockey player x yourname romance irl???

➥ yourfriend2 i begged,,,

twitter • ynplays • december 12th

instagram • ynplays • dec13th • the slopes ⚑

liked by yoursister, qtcinderella, yourbestie, and 15,093 others

ynplays: sega’s first snow and my first day on the slopes 🥹🐶

tagged yoursister, yourbestie, yourfriend1, yourfriend2, segagenesisthedawg

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user9 is your puppy named after the video game franchise, SEGA?

➥ ynplays yes! sega made mortal kombat which is my fav fighting game, so i named her after the company :)

➥ ynplays also, you can't forget about sonic and persona (super monkey ball too!!!)

➥ user10 me n the boys go crazy on super monkey ball

yourbestie pretty girl < 3

➥ yoursister if i was a man...mhm 😈

➥ yourfriend1 why do u always say some weird shit

➥ user11 turning your family tree into a circle energy

user12 are you just skiing or are you going to snowboard too??

➥ ynplays i want to do both! starting with skiing bc it's a "ski" resort ig? but i can't wait to try a board :)

➥user13 sounds like a fun! hope you have a nice vacay < 3333

user14 YNNNN ⚠️⚠️ you should get some of those plush turtles that you put on your butt so it doesn't hurt as much when you fall ⚠️⚠️

➥ user15 yes omg like this comment so she can see ittttt

➥ user16 those cushions literally saved my ass when i went boarding last year fr

➥ ynplays should i get one? do they sell them anywhere near the resorts?

➥ user16 yes, they should!

igstory • ynplays uploaded!

[caption; well,,,i think i need skiing lessons. hope the man i ran into has less snow down his shirt than i do.]

user17: eating shit is a staple of learning to ski

user18: the man 😀🫨 ynplays: i think it was the same dude who opened the door for me !!! user18: babe that's fate atp i don't make the rules

yourfriend2: i think you're about to have your meet-disaster. look up, he's skiing our way ynplays: oGM WH$T TH3!?!!

twitter • ynplays • december 13th

igstory • ynplays uploaded!

[caption1; he said i was a total loss at skiing and taught me how to snowboard instead ;p] [caption2; is it love if he buys you $25 ski resort hot cocoa?]

user19: oh no you're down BAD

yourfriend1: idk if it’s love but it's a stupid purchase 👏🏽 i can tell you that much

yoursister: no the fuck it's not love 🤬

user20: $25 HOT COCOA?!! outrageous user20: you better marry that man ynplays: you understand me on an subatomic level

instagram • yourbestie • dec13th • the shredder ⚑

liked by ynplays, yoursister, yourfriend2, and 8,764 others

yourbestie: we’re all way better at this snowboarding thing, even yn. thanks to her “brown eyed beau” 🤨 (her name not mine)

tagged yoursister, yourbestie, yourfriend1, yourfriend2, ynplays

view comments

user21: oh them drinks look thirst quenching 🤤🤤🤤

➥ user22: i wish free refills were implemented worldwide

user23: they would have to chain me up in my room if i were at this resort...i'd be foaming out the mouffff 😮‍💨🥴

➥ user24: bro what 🤣🤣🤣

➥ user25: think it's time you get castrated lil bro

➥ user26: watchlist type beat 🫵🏽🫵🏽🫵🏽

yourfriend1: i thought this was supposed to be a girls trip :(

➥ yourfriend2: it never is with yn unfortunately

➥ yourbestie: FRFR this turned into the girls....and l****

➥ ynplays: don't be fucking rude 😒

➥ ynplays: he payed for our drinks and taught me how to shred ☹️

user27: "l****" ???? alright agents let's find out who this mfer is

➥ user28: *brushes off my criminal justice degree*

➥ user29: i've compiled a list of five letter boy names that start with L on a google doc and male celebs who have posted any ski resort pics or those who implied they were going

➥ user30: i have a google doc of all the male athletes who have posted any skiing/snowboading/resort pics AND athletes who implied they were going somewhere cold for holiday

➥ user29: ,,,i like your style. let's merge our docs 🤝

➥ user31: post the link on twitter and let's fucking get to it

© httpsserene 2024

[sulumuns-dootah]

In case requests are open, can we get headcanons for Kings and how they react after having a nasty argument with the mc? Bonus if the mc just yells “I hate you!” mid way

Thank you!

WHB kings having an argument with reader

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Kinda wrote this more as a general argument HC's so I hope you don't mind U.U

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It's kinda hard to have a mutual argument with Satan with his whole anger kink

The moment you start raising your voice at him, he's all red in face and begging for more

Maybe even hit him as hard as you can? *puppy eyes*

Now, if you actually manage to get Satan angry, he'd instinctively prepare to kick or punch you, but stops himself in the last second

He may be pissed, but he still cares about you and doesn't want to hurt you

So instead he'll just stomp away to try and clear his head

Afterwards he'll come back to you like nothing serious happened and try to talk things out with you

       ༺☆༻

Mammon is another one I can't exactly imagine getting into an argument with you

He's simply too reserved

That still doesn't mean he doesn't care

He does, but he's more apologetic than that

All he simply states is the truth and he understands that it may upset you

Just from the dynamic he has with Satan, it's clear he doesn't take stuff said/done in an affect seriously

But if you were to say some hurtful stuff, he would feel bad and calmly as you to take those things back after you've gotten it out of your system

       ༺☆༻

Oh, good heavens!

Arguments with Levi go as bad and are as frequent as you can imagine

9/10 of those times end with being hung from the ceiling once he's fed up with you

The words 'I hate you' don't even make their way out of your mouth before you're left gasping for air and pathetically kicking your feet in mid-air

Thankfully, since it's you, Levi won't "forget" about you so you're not at the brink of suffocating

Instead, he'll just let you down, give you a few seconds to catch your breath and ask you to apologise to him

       ༺☆༻

"I hate you!!"

"Pshah... No you don't. You love me"

Beelzebub's too carefree to actually take anything seriously

You could activelly try to cut him up into pieces and he'd still make jokes about you being kinky

Anger doesn't work on him

Have you seen any of his interactions with Bael?

I HC him having the same ADHD thing as me:

When someone yells at us, we just zone out and wait for the person to finish just to ask them to repeat themselves again, but calmly this time

       ༺☆༻

Belphie is somewhere between Mammon and Leviathan when it comes to arguments

He's too tired to get mad himself and will just let you express your emotions openly

But when he's fed up, you're quickly swallowed up by his void and kicked out Nifleheim

And not even Beleth can save you if you forcibly wake Belphie up just to pick a fight/yell at him over something

That's a big no-no

His country may be militant, but you're no drill sargeant to pester him whenever you want

       ༺☆༻

If you're arguing with Asmo, I recommend you watch out for what you're saying

Any iteration of the words 'fuck', 'suck' or a bodypart like 'dick' and 'ass' can veeery quickly turn the whole situation legs up

...Or maybe make Asmo turn you legs up

I mean, you will end up like that eventually (there's nothing better than angry sex), but still, you might wanna voice your point before you're unable to say more than his name, if even that

And what else can possibly follow up a hefty argument?

That's right! Makeup sex!

       ༺☆༻

I imagine Lucifer being used to arguing and screaming since all the other three Seraphims used to fight for God's favor all the time

So when you come storming into his greenhouse to pick an argument with him, he'll just calmly continue drinking his tea and answer you like it's nothing

But, if something mean and personal slips your tongue, expect to get the silent treatment until you chase him down and apologise with absolute sincerity since he can sense lies from a country away

[itsgivingmami]

Just saw a clip of Rhea holding Iyo,

that’s the request I need to be held

Have and Hold- Rhea Ripley

The lights feel hotter than the sun as Rhea wobbles on her hands and knees. She sees little drops of red hit the floor before she reaches up to her nose to feel the warm blood coming from her nostril. Her ears ring and the crowd roars at something and she looks to the left, Liv is laying with her chest heaving beside her. It was solid karma at least, I’d Raquel was going to trip Rhea from the apron mid riptide at least she still took Liv down with her.

The sound of yelling floods her ears once the ringing ceases and she raises her head. You and the previously mentioned sabatour come into view.

“Just another time you proved Liv can’t defend her own title!” she hears you shout as you push Raquels shoulders, the brunette trying to get in your face.

“Yeah and your just Ripley’s new arm candy I mean come on what can you possibly offer her in the ring,” Rhea smirked and sure, the commentary pissed her off royally, but she knew damn well it had crossed you worse.

You rush Raquel and send her flying to the floor before climbing over her to hit her face repeatedly. You pull your punches, as planned as Raquel squirms underneath you. Your ring side fight offers a second for Liv and Rhea to reset before they move on.

Raquel kicks you off and you both scramble to your feet, you’re gunning to rush her again, ready to launch yourself as she throws you off from her. Raquel nods discreetly as you go but your fight on the floor had moved you both too close to the ring and the force of her hauling you send you straight into the stairs and you have no time to brave before the wind gets knocked out of your body and you crumble to the ground. You sink down to lean against the metal and from everyone’s perspective it looks like a killer sell. But Rhea sees the way your jaw clenches and eyes snap shut, she swears she can hear the hiss of pain over the screaming crowds. She ends it quickly, even considering taking the pin to get to you faster.

Her theme song blares as the ref holds up her fist, she puts on a show for the fans before quickly sliding under the bottom rope and dropping down to you. The cooes of the crowd aren’t lost on you both as they watch her attend to you.

“You okay?” She asks lowly, and you hum in response. Nothing is broken and although Liv and Raquel are staring you both down you can see in her face she’s sorry. You flip them off as your sign of good faith.

“Shit knocked all the air out of me,” you groan, reaching for something to grip and you stand. Rhea quickly wraps an arm around your waist and her face gets close to your ear.

“Go with it,” she tells you and before you can disagree she pulls you upward, you legs wrap around her middle as you feel like you’re going to fall. You hear the crowd erupt again as she makes her way backstage. You wrap your arms around her neck tiredly as you allow her to hold you. Other than the fact that the fans have clearly been loving your dynamic lately and Pierce wants to push you both as a tag team you’re enjoying the way her arms hold you snugly and they way she’s patting your back. She finally gets into the gorilla and the cameraman lowers from you both.

“Fucking stair case,” you mumble as the pain in your sternum starts blossoming, you’d definitely have a nice bruise in the morning. You hear Rhea chuckle and she keeps walking. “You can put me down you know I’m just winded,”

“I could but I don’t want to,”

[mclqren]

SPORTING SECRETS ★ CL16

PAIRING ✦ charles leclerc x fem!footballer!reader

SUMMARY ✦ you are a famous footballer & you have been dating charles in secret for some time, but your fans start to piece together the clues when they spot him at one of your matches [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ reader plays for the arsenal women's team. the fc i've used is alessia russo, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are open so feel free to leave a request :)

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liked by leahwilliamsonn, bethmead_, and 214,990 others

yourusername match ready for this weekend ❤️

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user1 i literally aspire to be like you when i get older

user2 she does it againnn!!

user3 london is RED ❤️❤️

liked by yourusername

bethmead_ my girllll 💘

yourusername love youu!!

user4 i look up to her sm

user5 sameee!!

user6 HOW IS SHE SINGLE STILLL

user7 literally NO CLUE HOW

charles_leclerc

( caption one: guess where i am 😍 | caption two: london 🇬🇧 )

liked by kimlittle1990, charles_leclerc, and 252,111 others

yourusername walking back after a victory this weekend:

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user12 LETS FUCKING GOOO

user13 KNEW YOU COULD DO ITTT!!

leahwilliamsonn ❤️❤️

yourusername foreverrrr! ❤️

user14 is no one going to talk about how CHARLES LECLERC is in her likes??

user15 i swear he's been following her for a while, though?

user16 yup!! but this is the first time they're actually interacting with each other on the internet

liked by bethmead_, charles_leclerc, and 292,400 others

yourusername best end to the weekend!! ft millie 💘

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user17 MILLIE IS BACKKKK!!

user18 ugh y/n is such a cutie i can't

user19 OKAY BUT WHO IS THAT GUYYY??

user20 Y/N HAS A MAN??

user21 i'm kindaaa surprised but not really bc LOOK AT HER

bethmead_ so who's the man that's replaced me

yourusername shhh look away ❤️

charles_leclerc millieee!!

yourusername my fav 💘

user22 THE COMMENT FROM CHARLES HELLO?

user23 my two worlds colliding is this a fever dream.

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 1,101,767 others

tagged yourusername

charles_leclerc my y/n - aka the best footballer i've ever met (other than myself, of course) i'm so happy we can finally share our love with the rest of the world. forever and always, i love you ❤️

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user25 WHERE IS THAT GIRL ON TWITTER BC SHE MUST BE PUNCHING THE AIR RN.

user26 SOMEONE GIVE HER A MEDAL

user27 AHHH SHES SO CUTE!!

user28 NEW PARENTS UNLOCKED

user29 wait can someone tell me who she is??

user30 y/n l/n!! she's a footballer for the arsenal wfc and she's sooo fucking perfect!

user29 ahh!! she's so gorgeous! 💗💗

yourusername the way you posted this without my permission is crazyyy...

charles_leclerc had to let the world know at some point 😘

yourusername i love you tooo! (the caption abt you being better is def a lie but okay!)

charles_leclerc excuse me i dominated the game??

yourusername how - by falling flat on ur ass??

user30 OKAY THEIR DYNAMIC>>>

liked by charles_leclerc, bethmead_, and 401,928 others

tagged charles_leclerc

yourusername charlieee my love!! thank you so much for supporting me for just over a year (crazy how no one managed to clock us for it until now), you mean so so much to me! p.s. if you ever want to say ur better than me at football, take a look at the last pic. you're welcome. 😊😊

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user31 STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT TOOK US SO LONG TO FIGURE OUT

user32 FR like we're meant to be so diligent??

user33 AW MY HEARTTT

user34 icl him in that first pic>>> WOW

bethmead_ still can't believe you replaced me :(

yourusername no one could ever replace you, come over rn 😘

bethmead_ omw!!

charles_leclerc i love you

yourusername LOVE YOU MORE

user35 my heart can't handle this sedate me now.

charles_leclerc WHY THE LAST PIC

yourusername i get to insult you every once in a while 💘

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[baekhyunsbestie]

──★ ALL MINE ˙🌷͙֒ ̟ !!

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 sum: it's been months since you cut ties with your bff-turned-fwb. now, you’re stuck with a new guy who’s a total fucking letdown in the bedroom. but there’s no way you’re telling your bestie baekhyun that embarrassing detail, right? WRONG. you guys share everything. and of course, baekhyun won't stop teasing you about it—especially after another disastrous date. just when you've hit your limit, you come home to find him rummaging through the pantry, snacking like he runs the place. but don't worry, he's here to make it up to you!!!!! and by "make it up to you," i mean help release all of your pent-up sexual frustration, because that's what besties do, right? …right?!

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 content: 18+/MDNI. 8.5k+ words. baekhyun x f!reader. no specified age, but i'd say they're somewhere in their early-to-mid 20’s cus i can only imagine people w/o fully developed frontal lobes behaving this way, respectfully 😭🙂‍↕️ bff's to fwb's to bff's again to strangers to lovers. fluff, angst, and it ain’t a baekhyunsbestie fic if it don’t got some good ol’ nasty smuuuttttt. pet names, praise kink, cheating, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie after creampie after creampie (baekhyun deffo has breeder balls, don’t @ me), overstimulation (both f + m). you both are just two big meanie idiots who are in love with each other.

your phone lights up with a ping, the glow illuminating your face as baekhyun’s text pops up on the screen: 

✶bestie baekhyun!!!���

aaawwww, is that your little boyfriend who can’t make you cum??? you guys are so cute together!

attached is a screenshot of your recent instagram story— you and your latest fling cozied up at a movie date earlier this evening. a date that ended with you unsatisfied, yet again. 

your gaze drifts across the room. baekhyun, lounging on the couch, meets your eyes with that signature, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. the one that makes your eye twitch in instant irritation. he’s enjoying this way too much and you want to pummel him into the ground. 

it’s been a week since you let your embarrassing little secret slip—your boyfriend can’t make you cum. and now, for seven agonizing days, your infuriating best friend has been toying with that knowledge like it’s his new favorite game. poking at your frustration with every sly comment, every teasing smirk.

you’re seething, and sexually frustrated, wound tight and ready to fucking snap. baekhyun knows exactly what he’s doing, pushing your buttons like only he can, and you’re not sure if you want to punch him or let him finish what your boyfriend never could.

it’s your bi-weekly hangout with your friend group—same old routine: catching up over movies, playing drinking games, maybe getting high, with mindless banter and a sea of snacks. the aroma of freshly baked cookies mingles with the air as you wait for takeout to arrive. you're surrounded by your closest friends, laughing, relaxed. but beneath the surface, you’re a storm waiting to break. every fiber of your being wants to blow up at him, but you can’t. no one knows about the “friends-with-benefits” situation that crashed and burned a few months ago, and you'd be damned if they found out. it would wreck the entire dynamic, fill the room with awkward tension, and you're not about to let that happen.

it lasted as long as it could before you realized you were starting to catch feelings— which definitely wasn’t part of the deal. you couldn’t admit that to him, though. no way, it’d be too embarrassing. you’d wreck the years of friendship that you have between you. so instead, you lied. you told him you were interested in seeing someone and wanted to give it a real shot.

one of your coworkers had been persistent about taking you out, and eventually, you gave in. he was great—amazing, even. a real charmer, with looks that could stop traffic, a sharp sense of humor, and a surprising attentiveness that made him seem like the total package. except for one small detail: he couldn’t take you to that edge, couldn’t push you past the brink where pleasure turns into toe-curling bliss. you tried to tell yourself that, with time and patience, he could learn. maybe, with a few more pointers, he’d figure out how to unravel you, bit by bit. 

but the truth is, you don’t want to have to teach someone all over again. not when there’s someone who already knows every inch of your body, someone whose touch leaves you trembling without needing a single word. baekhyun. he’s the one who knows exactly where to touch, where to linger, how to make you drip with nothing but a glance or the graze of his fingers.

but, of course, it’s never that simple. because baekhyun is your best friend, and as much as you wish he could see you in the same way, he doesn’t—or at least, not in the way you need him to. and even though your boyfriend has been nothing but sweet and patient these past few months, the connection just isn’t there. the attraction feels muted, like a faded echo of what it should be.

it leaves you simmering with a frustration you can’t admit out loud, the kind that gnaws at you from the inside, bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting for the smallest crack to spill over and consume you. you’ve been holding it together for so long, but every time you’re near baekhyun, every casual brush of his skin against yours, it pushes you closer to the edge. and you don’t know how much longer you can keep pretending. how much longer you can keep this act going, knowing that the one person you truly want is right there, just out of reach.

suddenly overwhelmed and no longer in the mood for the night’s festivities, thanks to baekhyun, you decided to slip away quietly. feigning a tired smile, you excused yourself, blaming it on the onset of a cold you claimed was creeping up on you.

as you got up and gathered your things, slipping on your sweater to shield yourself from the chilly october evening, baekhyun let out an exaggerated yawn and announced he was heading out as well, drawing boos and groans from your friends that both of you were leaving. 

feeling the walls close in, you rush to the door, needing to escape and breathe. your hands fumble to slip on your shoes, heart racing, fingers already gripping the cool metal of the doorknob. just as you’re about to turn it, baekhyun’s voice stops you, smooth but firm. "hey, let me take you home." his presence lingers behind you, his words almost a plea, warm and insistent.

without meeting his gaze, you replied coldly, “no, i’m fine. i’d rather walk,” waving him off dismissively. “goodnight, baekhyun.”

“w-wait!” he called out, but you were already closing the door in his face. you pulled your bag over your shoulder and tugged your sweater tighter around your neck, bracing against the crisp fall air.

your apartment was only a few blocks away, an easy ten-minute walk on most nights, but tonight, you lingered. every step was slower, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you wandered the quiet streets. you needed the extra time, the space to think about the growing weight of your situation. 

your thoughts drifted to your boyfriend—should you break up with him? the idea gnawed at you. you even reached for your phone, fingers hovering over his name, but the words refused to come. how could you explain that nothing he did ever truly satisfied you? that every time, you had to guide him, instruct him, tell him how to touch you, how to kiss you. his attempts never stirred anything deep inside, and when he fucked you, it was mechanical—passionless, almost empty.

he wasn’t like baekhyun.

with baekhyun, you never had to say a word. he knew your body instinctively, knew how to make you unravel without asking. he never needed guidance to make you cum; it was as natural as breathing for him.

you approached your apartment complex, the weight of your unresolved dilemma still pressing heavily on your mind—caught between trying to make things work with your boyfriend and the tangled, confusing feelings you had for baekhyun. your shoulders slumped as your head hung low, chin brushing against your chest, your eyes tracing the cracks in the pavement. the world around you felt muted, distant, like you were moving through a fog, everything blurred and out of focus.

with a swift punch of the door code, the lock beeped softly, and the door groaned open. but before you could step inside, your breath caught in your throat. there, by the entrance, sat a pair of men’s shoes—worn but familiar, ones you couldn’t possibly mistake. they rested neatly by the door, as if they had been waiting for you, like he had been waiting for you.

a tired sigh slipped from your lips, recognition sinking into your chest. you didn’t need to look any further to know who was already inside.

you were hoping for a moment of solitude to finish gathering your thoughts, but there he was—baekhyun, rummaging through your pantry, helping himself to your snacks.

“baekhyun, what are you doing here?” you ask, voice laced with surprise and slight irritation. 

it’s not like his presence is unusual—he’s your best friend after all. he used to drop by unannounced all the time, making himself at home as if your space was his own. he’d lounge on your couch, rummage through your fridge, and sometimes, without a word, he'd settle next to you for hours. but since you both called off your little "arrangement," those random visits had stopped completely. maybe it was because there was no longer that unspoken pull drawing him to your bed, or maybe—for once—he was trying to give you some space.

but let’s be real—baekhyun doesn’t know the meaning of personal space, especially when it comes to you. and little did you know, it’s not respect for your privacy that keeps him away. no, it’s because he can’t bear the thought of walking in and potentially finding you with someone else. the idea of seeing you with your new boyfriend—his hands where baekhyun’s used to be—would kill him. he’s already imagined it a hundred times, and each time, the image is enough to make him want to gouge his eyes out.

he peeks out from behind the pantry door, a bag of chips in his grip, he grinned. “oh, hey! you’re finally here.” he stuffed a few chips into his mouth, his voice muffled. “y’seemed a bit out of it, so i wanted to make sure you were okay.” with a playful poke to your cheek, causing you to grimace. “shoulda just let me drive ya home, cupcake. i’ve been here for like ten minutes already.”

"cupcake." the nickname pulls you into a warm memory from childhood. you and baekhyun, determined to bake cupcakes for a school event, laughed as flour flew everywhere, turning the kitchen into a playful disaster. your moms watched in horror as you two struggled with the instructions, but when the cupcakes came out, you both beamed with pride—baekhyun mostly for the fun. at the event, you eagerly awaited your friends' reactions to your creations, excitement bubbling inside you. but when they announced their preference for another girl’s cupcakes—sparkling with glittery frosting—your heart sank. yours and baekhyun’s looked so plain in comparison. heartbroken, you ran off, only for him to find you, comforting you with a gentle pat on the head, "you’re my favorite, cupcake." he gently wiped away your tears as you choked out a trembling, "promise?" between your sobs. “mhm! promise,” and in that moment, he wrapped his pinky with yours, and with a playful press of your thumbs, you stamped it with sincerity. fifteen years later, the nickname still clings to you like the sweetest frosting.

"'m fine, really," you lied, your voice barely steady as your eyes darted away from his. you leaned against the kitchen island, elbows digging into the cool surface, pressing your forehead into your palms. no matter how you tried to mask it, the stiffness in your frame exposed the truth, even as you tried to keep your tone light. "’m just... not feeling well, that's all."

you’re stuck in the middle, torn between what feels safe and what feels right. you keep telling yourself that making it work with your boyfriend is the better option—after all, you’re terrified of losing baekhyun as your best friend. but a part of you knows, deep down, that things between you and baekhyun aren’t the same anymore. ever since you became friends with benefits, something shifted, something fragile that you’re afraid to acknowledge. 

you can’t let yourself believe baekhyun could feel something deeper for you. it’s easier to stay in denial than face the possibility that the guy you’ve been so close to, the one who knows you inside out, might actually want more. maybe it’s because you’re scared—scared of ruining the friendship that’s been your constant, the one thing you can always rely on. so, you push down the thoughts, shove aside the feelings, and try to make things work with your boyfriend. but you know you’re unsatisfied. emotionally, physically—it’s not enough. yet, you cling to it, because you think it’s better to have a relationship that’s functional rather than risk something that might fall apart. 

but baekhyun… with him, it’s different. you never have to try. things just fall into place with him, naturally, effortlessly. it feels so right—too right—and maybe that’s what terrifies you. being with him feels easy, like slipping into something that was always meant to be, and that scares you more than anything. what if you let yourself fall for him and everything changes? what if you lose him completely, not just as a lover but as your best friend? 

you don’t know what you want. you can’t figure out if you should stay with your boyfriend just to avoid the risk of losing baekhyun, or if you should give in to the way you feel toward him. deep down, you know what you want, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it. it’s the fear that stops you—the fear of losing control, of opening up to something real, of being vulnerable with someone who’s already seen all your cracks.

but how long can you pretend? how long can you stay in a relationship that leaves you empty, just because it’s safer than taking a chance? maybe what you’re really scared of isn’t losing baekhyun. maybe it’s the idea that being with him feels too perfect, too right, and that kind of happiness is something you don’t know how to handle. but sooner or later, you’ll have to make a choice—stay in a relationship that drains you, or risk everything for something that makes you feel alive.

but you’d deal with that headache another day.

his fingers curl around your arm, firm but not forceful, spinning you to face him. the movement is swift, catching you off guard, and you stumble slightly before his gaze locks with yours. “is this about my text earlier?” his voice is playful, but there’s an edge beneath the tease. “i’m sooooo sorry for teasing about your loser boyfriend, the one ya clearly don’t have any romantic feelings for,” he says, each word dripping with mockery.

“you’re such an ass, y’know that?” you want to yell at him, to snap back with something cutting, to defend your relationship like it actually means something. you want to push him out the door and slam it behind him, pretend that this tension between you doesn’t exist.

but you can’t. because baekhyun’s right. and even now, with him standing just inches away, you feel more electricity between you than you ever have with your boyfriend. the way he looks at you, the way the air between you thickens—it’s undeniable. infuriatingly so.

the atmosphere shifts, charged with something far more dangerous. his voice softens, but the playful glint in his eyes doesn’t fade. “finefinefine. ’m sorry, f’real, cupcake. hate seeing ya upset cus of me. how ‘bout i make it up to you, hmm?” his words are smooth, each one laced with a promise. “i can help ya forget all about your little boyfriend.”

the word lingers between you, thick with implication. you shift on your feet, heart racing. “well…i—i don’t know,” you stammer, your gaze falling to the floor. you can’t look at him. if you do, he’ll see it—the flicker of hope, the unspoken longing. you’ve tried so hard to bury it, to keep it hidden, but in moments like this, it threatens to spill out.

his fingers loosen slightly on your arm, but he doesn’t let go. instead, his thumb is rubbing circles, the gentle caress making it harder for you to keep it together. “i don’t know what i want,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. you’re not even sure if you’re convincing yourself or him. all you know is that if you meet his eyes, he’ll likely see everything you’ve been trying to deny: the truth that maybe you don’t want your boyfriend at all. maybe you’ve wanted baekhyun all along.

your eyes are glued to the floor and your trying your hardest to suppress the rising heat in your chest. his fingers slide from your arm up to your chin, gently tilting your face toward him. his thumb brushes against your bottom lip, a gesture that sends a rush of heat through your body, making it impossible to think straight.

“look at me,” he whispers, his voice low and almost dangerous. slowly, your gaze lifts to meet his. “i don’t believe you,” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. his eyes drop briefly to your mouth before returning to yours, darker now. “i think you do know what you want.”

suddenly his body is pressing into yours, the warmth radiating from him almost overwhelming. his hand slides up, cradling your neck, fingers gentle yet possessive, his thumb brushing along your jawline. your breath hitches as he leans in, lips hovering so close to yours you can feel his breath.

“baekhyun….w-we really shouldn’t…” you stammer, the words tumbling out in a weak attempt to stop what you know is inevitable. but your body doesn’t qute get the memo with the way you’re leaning into him, craving his touch.

“tell me to stop, then,” he whispers, lips brushing yours, his voice coarse with challenge. his eyes are locked onto yours, daring you to say it. to push him away.

but you can’t. every nerve in your body is screaming for more—for him. all the frustration from your boyfriend, the disappointment in every failed touch, every unsatisfying kiss—it all crashes over you at once. and baekhyun… baekhyun is standing right here, so close, so familiar. you miss him. you miss the way his lips felt on yours, the way his hands knew exactly where to touch you, the way he could unravel you in seconds.

you can’t tell him to stop. not when you want him this badly.

your lips part in a breath, and that’s all the invitation he needs. his mouth crashes onto yours, the kiss full of urgency and raw, unrestrained need. his lips move against yours in perfect sync, fierce yet deliberate, like he’s pouring everything into this one moment. his tongue brushes against yours, coaxing a soft whimper from your throat, and his hand tightens slightly around your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

he groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, and it’s like all the pent-up frustration you’ve been harboring melts away in an instant. all you can feel is baekhyun, his lips claiming yours, his body pressing you back against the wall with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

“i’ve missed this,” he mutters between kisses, his lips barely leaving yours. “missed you.”

your hands tangle in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing him like never before. it’s not just the kiss—it’s everything you’ve been holding back, everything you’ve denied yourself. and now, here he is, reminding you of exactly what you’ve been craving.

when he finally pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his forehead resting against yours, you’re both panting, chests heaving. “see, cupcake?” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “you know exactly what you want.”

before you can respond, his lips are on yours again, fiercer this time, as if the mere thought of stopping is unthinkable. the kiss deepens, every inch of him pressing closer, until he’s got you in your room and on your bed, pinned beneath him. his body moves instinctively, shifting behind you, and within seconds, you feel him slide into you from behind, achingly slow at first. but the second he bottoms out, something shifts. a low groan rumbles from deep in his chest, vibrating against your skin. he doesn’t even wait for you to adjust, he loses all control, thrusting with raw, feral intensity. his chest is flush against your back, the heat of his body overwhelming as your face presses into the pillow, muffling the broken moans spilling from your lips as you bite into the fabric, trying to hold on for dear life.

each relentless thrust from baekhyun feels like it’s stealing the very breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping for air. his movements are unyielding, almost desperate, as if he’s trying to reclaim every second of the time you’ve spent apart, making up for the last few months he couldn’t have you like this. 

the sheets twist tightly in your fists, but no matter how hard you cling to them, it’s impossible to ground yourself—he’s pulling you deeper into the intoxicating blur of sensation. his pace is feral, his hips slamming into yours with an intensity that borders on overwhelming. 

baekhyun moans, the sound rough and guttural, fueling the fire building inside you. his hands grip your thighs, possessive and firm, as he drives into you with a force that makes your entire body quake. the heady mix of sensation has you floating, completely consumed by him, by the way he moves, as if he’s trying to burn this moment into your skin, into your memory. each thrust pushes you closer to that edge, where all you can feel, all you can think about, is him.

his voice cuts through the haze—deep, raspy. "look at my pretty little angel... i’ve missed watching you fall apart for me." his words, tainted with hunger, ignite something in you. but you can’t find it in you to respond, not with the way he’s driving you to the edge. 

his fingers sink into your hips, firm and punishing, and you know for certain that bruises will manifest if he keeps this up. each grip imprints on your skin, marking you as if he’s claiming you as his own. and you revel in it—every deliciously painful second. there’s something intoxicating about witnessing him completely lost, consumed by his need for you, making you feel more desired than ever before. 

his breath is hot against your ear as he growls, "you're all mine, aren’t ya, cupcake?"

you can barely find your voice, breathless and overwhelmed, but somehow you manage to gasp out, "y-yes... all yours." how could you ever belong to anyone else when he's driving into you with such raw intensity, each thrust relentless, pushing you deeper into the mattress?

"yours," you repeat, the truth sinking in. you always have been. you never stopped. 

baekhyun’s grip tightens at your affirmation, his pace quickening in response—he liked your answer. it’s clear in the way he devours you, body and soul. he’s using you like his personal plaything, his touch both possessive and unrelenting. but it’s the sounds spilling from his lips that keep you tethered to reality—reminding you that it’s still him. baekhyun. your baekhyun.

"baek," you whimper, voice shaky, barely audible over the sounds of your bodies moving in sync. he doesn’t respond right away, too lost in the pleasure rippling through him, but you see it—the way his eyes flicker open, wild and dark, his gaze locking onto yours. a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s not his usual playful grin. this one is predatory, dangerous.

“what’s wrong, cupcake?” he rasps, his voice dripping with amusement, though there's something almost menacing in the way he says it. "can’t—nnngghhh—handle it?"

your breath hitches, and the words you want to say cling to your tongue, refusing to come free. all you can manage is a faint nod, a fragile acknowledgment of the moment. he leans in closer, his lips grazing the delicate curve of your ear. his voice, a low whisper, dancing across your skin.

"good," he purrs, his voice now a deep, velvety growl. "cus i don’t think i can stop fucking this pretty pussy. fuck—i think she missed me." 

what feels like hours later, after countless orgasms brought forth by his mouth and the myriad of ways he’s taken you, the sight before you is nothing short of devastating. baekhyun has already came inside you twice, and now, poised on the brink of losing himself again in a mean mating press, he looks utterly wrecked. strands of damp hair cling to his forehead, dark and slick with sweat, framing a face flushed with feverish desire. a deep crimson blooms across his cheeks, spilling down the bridge of his nose like a painting. his bottom lip is pinched between his teeth, the skin pale from the pressure, while his gaze—dark, ravenous, and locked on the intimate connection of your bodies.

the way his eyes feast on you sends a shiver racing down your spine, igniting a deep ache that only he can soothe. he trembles with barely contained desire, his body quaking with the need to claim you all over again, while you teeter on the edge, overwhelmed and craving more. before you know it, he’s flipping you back onto your stomach, pulling your hips up to meet his as your face and the upper half of your body sink into the mattress, the sheets slick with your sweat and juices.

his tip glides teasingly over your entrance, and you instinctively flinch away from the sensitivity, heart racing. 

"nonono, cupcake, don’t do that," baekhyun’s voice rumbles, low and commanding, sending another jolt through you. his hands are firm as they guide your hips back against his waist, grip tightening, muscles flexing as he holds you in place. "run away from me again, and i’ll make it so ya can’t walk." 

"p-please, baekhyun," you whine.

a deep chuckle vibrates through his chest, sending a shiver rippling down your spine. goosebumps rise, and baekhyun notices—he always notices—his hands roaming, possessive, over every inch of your trembling body. "uh-uh," his voice rough with lust, "you’re gonna take every last drop.”

his hips surge forward, harder, deeper, and his eyes flicker up to meet yours. there's a flicker of something wild in them, raw. 

“fuck, you’re s-so perfect. so perfect for me,” he growls, voice low and ragged, and it shoots straight through you, making your insides coil in response. “y’feel that, cupcake? how close i am?” his tone is a little desperate now, his restraint slipping as he fights to keep control. but you can see it—the need, the hunger that threatens to consume him.

another thrust, brutal, claiming, sends you spiraling, and you feel him everywhere. your breath hitches, and you know he can feel it too, how tightly you’re holding him inside, the way your body swallows him tells him just how much you want him—more than words ever could.

a hiss escapes him, sharp and guttural, his teeth gritting as he barely holds on. “you’re so tight—fuck—i’m gonna–ngh–fill you up again. you’re gonna take it all, aren’t ya? isn’t that right, my girl?” his voice is almost pleading now, the desperation to spill into you driving him mad. and when his thrusts grow erratic, each one landing deeper than the last, you know he’s close to breaking, just as you are. 

it’s intoxicating, watching him unravel before you, the way his chest rises and falls erratically, every ragged breath he takes feeding into your own desire. at the sound of his name slipping from your lips—soft, and pleading—he finally tears his gaze from the mess he's made of you.

his eyes, dark and glazed over, meet yours, and there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, but it’s strained, barely there. he doesn’t slow. if anything, he pushes harder, deeper, the rhythm relentless. sweat drips from his temple, tracing down his cheek, but he doesn’t even notice. his focus is singular, entirely consumed by you—by the way your body trembles, how your fingers grip onto the sheets, like a lifeline.

"say it again," he breathes, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper, but you hear the urgency in it. "say my name."

you bite your lip, trying to hold back, but the intensity of his gaze—it undoes you. your eyes meet his, tear-filled and hazy, and you see the way his own eyes flicker, like he’s losing whatever control he had left.

and it’s the way your soft, pouty lips quiver as they whisper his name that gets him there, how your brows are knit together in an innocent plea while your eyes gaze up at him, brimming with love and vulnerability.

his jaw clenches, and he lets out a deep, guttural sound, so raw it sends shivers through you. he lowers his forehead to your back, his breath hot against your skin.

"holy–fuck—," he hisses through gritted teeth, his hand tightening on your waist, like he’s afraid to let go. his hips stutter before slamming forward, burying himself deep inside you one final time. his orgasm crashes over him like a violent wave, dragging him under. the guttural moan that escapes his lips is raw, primal, and he knows he’ll be embarrassed about it later, but in this moment, it’s beyond his control.

you feel the tremor in his body as he shudders against you, his skin flushed, slick with sweat, while his cock pulses inside you. his balls tighten and twitch, spilling hot and thick, the sensation drawing a gasping whimper from your own throat. his breath is erratic, each inhale a desperate gulp.

baekhyun lowers himself until his chest is pressed against your back, the weight of his body sinking into you, his lips brushing your ear as he pants, "you... you feel too fucking good. how do you... how do ya do this to me?" his voice is shaky, barely a whisper as his hands continue to clutch you, desperate, possessive.

you murmur something incoherent in response, your own mind foggy with aftershocks, but all you can focus on is the way he trembles against you. his forehead presses against back, and you feel him trying to steady his breath, his heart racing like he’s just run a marathon.

“goddamn,” he breathes, the words more for himself than for you, voice thick with awe. "i’m never… getting enough of this. never gonna get enough of you."

his body lingers against yours, the air still heavy with the remnants of pleasure. even as the sharp edge of your climax begins to dull, you can feel the way his hands stay locked on your skin, like he’s afraid to let go, fingers tracing invisible patterns over your waist as if committing every inch of you to memory. there's a yearning in his touch, a silent desperation that clings to the moment, stretching it out.

you pretend not to notice. you can’t let yourself notice. feeding into that fantasy, that he could want more than this—more than just the heat between your bodies—would be a mistake. he’s your best friend, and that’s all this is. two best friends tangled in each other, using one another to satisfy a need. nothing more, nothing deeper.

it couldn’t be.

the air in the room feels heavy, thick with something unspoken. at least that’s what it feels like to baekhyun, like a weight pressing down on his chest. as he’s silently pulling his clothes back on, he’s stuck in his head, running over the same thought again and again: how badly he wants to ask you to leave your boyfriend. he wants to beg you to give him a real chance. because you and him? you just fit. 

it makes so much sense in his mind—you should know it too, right? i mean, the synergy between you two is undeniable—the way you connect, how effortlessly you bounce off each other, both physically and emotionally. no one gets his humor the way you do, no one reads him so instinctively, and no one fits him quite like you. you’re each other’s perfect match, and he feels it in every fiber of his being. what could be better than being in a committed relationship with your best friend, someone who already knows you inside and out?

he hesitates, throwing his shirt on as you rummage through your closet, probably looking for something more comfortable now that you’re home. his voice breaks the silence, casual but laced with a tinge of hope. “soooo... are you gonna break up with, uh, what’s-his-name?”

you pause, turning around with a look of genuine confusion on your face. “huh? oh—hmm, no. at least, not just yet... maybe i should give it another shot? he actually texted me not too long ago if i could meet him for drinks in a bit.”

the way his expression drops is almost comical, if it weren’t for the fact that you see it—the disbelief, the frustration flickering across his face before he can mask it. baekhyun has never been skilled at concealing his emotions, despite his insistence that he can. right now, it feels like he isn’t even attempting to hide the disappointment that hangs between you like a heavy fog.

if you could hear his thoughts, it’d be something like, ‘you’re going out with him? i literally just emptied my entire fucking ballsack into you, and you’re going out with him?’

his frown deepens, brows knitting together as if he’s trying to hold back a storm. before you can fully process what’s happening, he scoffs, shaking his head as if he could simply dismiss it all. “hah. right. okay, well, thanks for the nut, i guess. i’ll be seeing you around.”

each word drips with sarcasm, but beneath it, you can sense the hurt—an ache that tugs at the edges of your heart.

and with that, he turns on his heel and storms out of your bedroom, heading straight for your front door.

“baekhyun, wait!” you call after him, scrambling to catch up, grabbing his arm just before he can leave. he stops, but he doesn’t turn around, his body rigid with frustration. “what’s going on?”

he finally looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes catches you off guard. “what’s going on?” he repeats, voice low, almost a growl. “i’m sitting here, watching you play house with some guy who doesn’t get you—not like i do—and i’m supposed to just... what? be okay with it?”

you’re taken aback by the intensity in his tone, the way his words come out in a rush, like he’s been holding them in for way too long. “baekhyun, what the hell are you talking about?”

he lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “you really don’t get it, do you? we,” his hand gesturing between the two of you, “make sense, you and me. we’ve always made sense. and yet, here you are, wasting your time with someone who doesn’t even appreciate you like i do—who you don’t even like!”

you blink, a wave of dizziness washing over you as a flood of questions races through your mind, each one slipping away before you can grasp it. the weight of his words hangs between you, thick and suffocating.

“s-since when?” you stammer, doubt trembling in your voice. the ground beneath you feels unsteady, as if it might shift and swallow you whole. 

“are you kidding me?” he scoffs, disbelief etching deeper lines into his face. “i was a fucking wreck when you called it off.” the intensity of his emotions surges, filling the quiet of your apartment with an echo that seems to reverberate off the walls. “when you told me you wanted to ‘try dating some other guy’—do you even realize how that felt? why do you think i haven’t been around much since then??? it’s because i literally cannot stand the thought of you with someone else. just the idea makes me sick to my fucking stomach. i can’t breathe knowing he’s with you when it should be me.”

oh.

ohhhh.

his confession hits you like a tidal wave, the unbearable guilt gnawing at your insides. but it’s the way his voice trembles, softening as it cracks beneath the weight of vulnerability, that makes your eyes sting with unshed tears. “but i wanted you to be happy,” he admits, each word wrapped in a bittersweet sincerity that tugs at your heart. “even if it meant not being with me… i knew what this was. i understood our arrangement. and i tried so hard, so fucking hard, to push these feelings down. deep down, i always felt it was something more. call it delusion, but it just felt so good pretending you were mine... even if you didn’t feel the same.”

every word is laced with desperation, like a raw, exposed nerve. the truth hangs heavy in the air, and you can see the storm brewing in his eyes—agitation just beneath the surface, threatening to overflow. 

you can barely meet his gaze, heart racing as the reality of his feelings sinks in, pulling you under. “how come you’ve never said anything before?”

he takes a moment to steady himself, visibly wrestling with the whirlwind of emotions coursing through him. his gaze drops to the floor, fingers still tangled in his hair as he collects his thoughts. when he finally looks back up, his expression is a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

“because i thought you’d be happier without me,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t want to be the reason you felt trapped or guilty. i thought if you wanted to explore something new, then i should just... step back. but every day these last few months have felt fucking suffocating. i can’t shake the feeling that we belong together, even if it’s terrifying to say out loud.”

he takes a step closer, closing the distance between you, eyes searching yours for understanding. “i’ve been a coward, honestly. i know that. i kept telling myself i should let you go, but every time i see you smile or hear your laugh, it just reminds me of what i’m missing. i wanted to tell you so many times, but i was afraid of ruining whatever friendship we had left.” 

his voice thickens, eyes glistening with unshed emotion. “but i can’t keep pretending anymore. i want to be the one who makes you happy. i need to be that person, even if it means risking everything. even if it means putting everything on the line.” 

he stands there, eyes searching yours, you can see the desperation in his gaze, but the weight of his words feels too heavy to bear, and you take a step back, creating space between you.

“baekhyun, i just—i don’t know if i can—” you start, but he interrupts, the hurt flashing across his face.

“don’t know if you can what? feel the same way? i’m here, laying it all out for you!” his voice rises again, tinged with anguish. “you’re with someone else, and i get that! but you’re standing here like it doesn’t even matter, like you’re just going to pretend whatever we have between us doesn’t exist!”

the sharpness in his words cuts deep, and your heart aches. “it’s not that simple. you know it’s not,” you reply, your voice trembling with the weight of your own emotions. “you think i haven’t thought about what this means? about how complicated it is? i can’t just flip a switch and make everything okay!”

he runs a hand over his face, frustration boiling just below the surface. “you don’t have to make it okay! just... just acknowledge it! acknowledge us. you can’t deny that there’s something more here.” 

the heat of the moment grows unbearable, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. “i-i can’t! i can’t do this right now! i don’t even know what i want!” 

“then maybe it’s better if you stay with him,” he snaps, hurt flooding his voice. “at least then you can pretend you’re happy. you won’t have to deal with the mess we’ve created. you can have your perfect little life, while i’m over here trying to pick up the fucking pieces.” 

his words cut deep, each syllable laced with disappointment that settles heavily in your chest. “baek… c’mon, that’s not fair—” you reach out to him, but this time, for the first time ever, he pushes you away, the sudden force of it leaving you reeling.

“just please…let me go, okay?” his voice is low, but it trembles with emotion. “there’s nothing here for me anymore. you’ve made it clear that there never was.” 

you swallow hard, the weight of unshed tears threatening to spill over as you gaze into his eyes for what feels like the last time. the raw pain reflected back at you cuts deep, shattering something fragile inside you. he turns on his heel, his silhouette fading into the distance, the door clicking shut behind him like a final punctuation mark.

now, in the suffocating stillness, the tears flow freely, your chest tightening under the weight of your own heartbreak. each beat of your heart an ugly reminder of how deeply fucked this entire situation is.

this is it. 

you’ve hit rock bottom.

the days that follow blur into a haze of heartache and regret. each moment apart stretches into an eternity, every thought of baekhyun sending sharp pangs of longing twisting painfully through your chest. you try to distract yourself, immersing yourself in the whirlwind of work while surrounding yourself with friends—friends who have always sensed the unspoken tension between you and baekhyun. apparently, you two were never as subtle as you thought you were. the longing glances, the lingering touches, constantly matching each other’s energy, him effortlessly meeting you on every wavelength—everybody saw it, each tiny detail. 

‘you’d have to be deaf and blind to not pick up on the chemistry,’ one of them commented. ‘yeah, we were all calling you and baekhyun the next hellen kellers,’ another added.  ‘more like tweedle dee and tweedle dum,’ someone else chuckled. you couldn’t help but wince at the truth of it all.

you come to find out that they all secretly rooted for your “not-so-secret” connection to flourish, yet holding back from intervening, respecting the boundaries of your privacy. you feel nothing but gratitude for that unspoken understanding; after all, the very reason you both kept your fwb arrangement hidden was because of the fear of anyone else complicating the already complicated.

oh, and your boyfriend—the poor guy. he really didn’t deserve the turmoil you put him through. the conversation with him still echoes in your mind, haunting you like a ghost. you told him the truth, your voice trembling as you confessed to your betrayal. “i cheated,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “i’m so sorry. it was wrong, and i take full responsibility for everything.” you could see the disappointment wash over his face, the trust he had for you shattering before your eyes. he deserved more than what you gave him, yet you’d been stringing him along, all because you felt like you didn’t have a chance with baekhyun—the one who made your heart race in a way your boyfriend never could.

now, you’re left with nothing but the empty echoes of those moments, each heartbeat a reminder of the love you lost and the love you crave. baekhyun's laughter still dances in your memory, his touch lingers on your skin, and the connection you shared feels like an ache that refuses to fade. despite the distractions, you can’t escape the truth that looms over you: he’s the one you truly want. it was always baekhyun who held your heart, and the thought of losing him makes your heart ache all over again.

then, one evening, after an especially difficult day, you find yourself in a familiar spot—a coffee shop you and baekhyun used to frequent together. you sit there, cradling your drink, as a wave of sweet memories washes over you, each one tied to your past visits here with him.

just as you’re gathering your things to leave, the bell above the door jingles, and your heart races when you see who's walking in, a hesitant expression etched across his face.

“hey,” he says softly, eyes locking onto yours with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

“baekhyun…” his name falls from your lips in a quiet whisper, the weight of unspoken emotions heavy between you as you step closer. “can we talk?”

he nods, motioning toward a nearby table. your legs feel leaden as you walk over, your heart pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else. each beat is a reminder of how much this moment means, of how much you stand to lose. you can’t mess this up. not again. you have to make this work—you can’t lose him.

“i know things have been… difficult since everything happened,” you begin, your voice trembling as you lower yourself into the chair. his eyes are on you, but they seem distant, almost guarded. “but i can’t keep pretending i don’t care. i can’t just walk away from us.”

baekhyun looks down, his fingers brushing the edge of the table, searching for the right words. his heart feels like it’s about to burst. “i didn’t think you felt the same,” he murmurs, his voice soft and vulnerable.

“i was scared,” you admit, your voice breaking slightly. “scared of losing you for good. but i realized that it’s worse to lose you without even trying to fight for what we had.” 

you feel the tears prick at your eyes again, but this time they’re not from sadness; they’re from the overwhelming relief of seeing him here, in front of you. 

“i don’t want to lose you either,” he confesses, his voice laced with quiet desperation. his hand reaches across the table, the warmth of his touch wrapping around yours as he gently grasps it. “i can’t stand the thought of seeing you with someone else. i never did. i want to be with you, and i’m willing to do anything to make it work.”

your chest tightens as you take a deep breath, nodding slowly while a shaky exhale slips from your lips. “i want to be with you, too. for real this time.”

his eyes widen, hope flickering like sparks catching flame. “do you mean it?” he asks, his voice filled with cautious anticipation.

you nod again, a soft hum of agreement escaping you, and in that moment, his smile breaks free, one of pure, unguarded relief. without a word, his hand reaches out, and your pinkies intertwine, just as they did all those years ago. a silent promise passes between you, and with a soft press of your thumbs, the vow is sealed—an echo of the past and a delicate mark of something entirely new.

“so… can i be your boyfriend?” he asks, his nervous grin tugging at the corners of his lips, his voice dipping into a shy but hopeful tone.

“yes,” you reply, unable to suppress the giggle that bubbles up, “i would love it if you were.”

his grin widens, turning his brown eyes into soft crescent moons, as if the tension in the room has melted away. you hadn’t realized how tense he was until you see him relax into his chair. “ugh, thank goddddd. i’m so glad we agreed not to be stupid anymore,” he jokes with a smile, and your heart swells at the familiar spark in his voice. and it hits you again—just how much you’ve missed him. that toothy smile, his voice, his laugh and the way he can always bring light into even the darkest moments. just him.

your best friend.

your boyfriend.

“i missed you, y’know?” you confess, the words tumbling out with sincerity.

“i missed you, too, cupcake.” he replies, his expression softening, thumb tracing little planets on the back of your hand.

he lets out a relieved sigh before continuing, “so what does my GIRLFRIEND want to do now?” excitement bubbles in his tone. “should we take a walk on the beach? the sun is about to set, and it would be nice. or does my GIRLFRIEND want to watch a movie? maybe my GIRLFRIEND wants to grab some dessert?”

you can’t help but blush, a giggle escaping your lips at the way he emphasizes your new title, drawing curious glances from the cafe patrons. embarrassment flares in your cheeks as you swiftly rise, tugging him by the arm to guide him out of the bustling cafe.

as soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he whirls you around, his hands tenderly cradling your face. twarmth of his palms feels like home as he leans in, kissing you with such devotion and tenderness that sends you soaring straight to cloud nine. everything outside melts away, and in that electric moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped snug in each other’s arms.

he pulls back slightly, his breath mingling with yours, and you catch a glimpse of that playful spark in his eyes. he sends a thrill racing through you as he ghosts his lips over yours, the soft brush igniting a flutter deep in your stomach. “or how about i take my girlfriend back to my place,” his voice low and sultry, “and we consummate our new relationship?” 

you laugh, your heart racing at the implication. “i think my boyfriend read my mind,” you tease, interlocking your fingers with his as you both giggle, making your way to his car. ‘finally,’ baekhyun thinks to himself as he swings open the passenger door, a grin spreading across his face. before you hop in, he leans in for one last kiss, savoring the sweetness of the moment. and as he shuts the door, a wave of relief washes over him. ‘finally, you’re all mine.’

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 a/n: the song linked in the title (and a text post on here that i cannot find for the life of me) inspired me to write a fwb!baekhyun fic 🙂‍↕️ i was going to end it with angst but then i realized......i literally can't do that!!!! lmfao i need my disney ending or else i'm gonna combust!!!!!!! sigh but anyways, i hope u enjoyed it!!!! as always, lmk your thots unless you hate it then pls keep it to yourself omg cus i am sensitive and will cry <3 (not joking)

⤷ prequel <3

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[spicybunni]

❤️ASHLEY AS A HUSBAND❤️

Hello darlings!! These are a few headcanons of my yandere OC Ashley, the mob boss who can’t get enough of you. Hope you like him!

WARNINGS ⚠️: NSFW MENTIONS, SMUT, YANDERE TENDENCIES, FORCED MARRIAGE, VIOLENCE (not to reader), BLOOD MENTION

❤️Before we get into it, The marriage was not consensual by any means on your end. Ashley forced you saying it’s for your own good and that you and your family will be safe. Which sounded like a threat more than anything. You agreed to it only for the sake that he doesn’t harm your loved ones.

❤️He forced you because the word of his infatuation with you, a local waiter, got out to his rivals. He didn’t want to ruin your life with violence. So he decided to ruin it with a forced marriage.

❤️As a husband, Ashley was very traditional. He would come home after doing business. Sometimes with a little blood on his clothes or some skinned knuckles from throwing punches.

❤️Regardless of how he looked he would come to you before anything else and give you a kiss on the cheek. Ask you about your day and sit down in the living room.

❤️Your stomach would flip whenever he came near you with blood on his suit. Looking like a damn maniac with a smile on his face indifferent to whoever’s blood is splattered on him as he hugs you.

❤️He was more than happy to consummate the marriage after half a year living together. You hated him and everything he stood for, but your feelings, being cooped up in the mansion, and the way his stupid hair falls on his face as he looks at you- it all has gotten to you!

❤️Ashley couldn’t get enough after that. But his number one rule was to always have you come to him for it. Sometimes you would just awkwardly come into the living room, face flushed and lightly sweating as you avert your gaze. You’d place a hand on his shoulder as he sat in the armchair. He’d look up from either the paper or book he’s reading, smirk at your state, and take your hand upstairs.

❤️Ashley couldn’t care less about how adorably awkward you are downstairs when in the bedroom your ass bounces off his dick so divine.

❤️His plan was to tease you with how good it felt when you gave into your desires. Rubbing the head of his cock on your soaking entrance, holding your legs down in a press. Ashley’s erection would become painfully more hard when you let out whines and begs for him to get on with it.

❤️Least to say you were so cock drunk that you could care less in the moment if he came inside you.

❤️ This man is rough to say the least, but you love it. The way he holds your head down as your ass is in the air being pounded by him. His belt being used to tie your hands to the headboard of the bed while he does sinful things down below.

❤️DO NOT CATCH AN ATTITUDE WITH HIM❌ it will end in you drooling into the sheets as your body gets an pleasurable attitude adjustment.

“Sweetie, sweetie-Hey. Look at me while I make you a mess you hear me? That’s it. Atta darlin’…ah-fuck!”

❤️Even though he coats your insides to the brim with cum, he cleans you up nicely. He’ll grab a towel from the connected bathroom and wipe your sweat while you come down from your bliss.

❤️After two years being forcefully married, your life was actually simplified. No need to stress on bills, you actually had a chance at doing your little hobbies, and you can afford all the foods you’d like to cook. Ashley also would gift you clothes you liked instead of repurposing rags for your uniforms and pajamas. He would whistle when you’d walk out of the changing rooms in a new outfit. Making you do slow twirls for him.

❤️There were times where logic would come back into your mind to tell you this dynamic wasn’t right, you had to leave.

❤️But Ashley will never let that happen. His protocol if you were to ever try and escape is that all his men would be on the lookout for you, then have all his patrons in the district report to him if they spotted you.

❤️Ashley would never hurt you, but in a scenario where you tried to escape he would isolate you to a single bedroom for a month. It would take lots of time to earn his trust again after that.

❤️But that’s all hypotheticals for now….

[ulgapodatkowa]

i actually think that the biggest punch to the gut for me this season is lucius. because we all laughed how he's hiding in the walls, haunting blackbeard or something like that. because lucius was a fun little character, unapologetically himself and if something bad happened to him (like losing his finger) it was never a big thing and it was played off as a joke.

but this season shows you lucius who isn't lucius. he looks different, acts aggressive, picks up smoking as a coping mechanism. he's so fucking traumatized. and i know him talking about his trauma to stede was supposed to be a funny moment but if you look at it realistically it really wasn't. all of the things that happened to him affected him so deeply he build a different persona around himself and all of the scenes with him have a completely different air to them than before. as far as i can tell the only thing that hadn't changed that much is how his relationship with pete feels onscreen, still as loving and sweet as it was.

and ultimately I think he won't resume his role as a quirky lighthearted comedic relief that plays relationship guru because it just isn't him anymore. he's weathered and matured and dealing with a fair amount of trauma. so i'm looking forward to seeing how his dynamic with the crew will look like from now on and what position will he take.

[hauntedhokage]

Day 30: Blood/Gore/Costumes

Geto/F!Reader/Gojo

summary: a halloween party goes wrong while you’re getting railed on the balcony by one of your boyfriends. He just won’t tell you which one he is until the game has ended

word count: 1.7k 

content warnings: established poly relationship, predator/prey dynamic, mentions of murder/bodies, knife play with reader being cut,

They had chosen to wear matching costumes, both dressed like the serial killer from the popular horror movie that had come out recently and Shoko’s party had been the perfect place to debut them for your busy Halloweekend. You’d opted for a sexy cat costume, planned with Shoko to be a cat and mouse duo that Gojo had loved from the moment you mentioned that being the plan. Geto was a bit wary of how much skin the costume showed, but eventually your pout and reminder that you were very much an adult had him backing off to let you do your thing. He’d be with you all weekend anyway, so if anyone got too close he’d handle it - there was nothing a good punch to the face couldn’t fix. 

“See, Geto, we look so hot,” Shoko teases when your trio enters her house, something that you know has Suguru rolling his eyes behind the mask as Shoko pokes at both of their chests to make sure she got the right one. “Now let’s go drink.”

You’re not sure when you get separated from your boys, but you’re happy to relax out on the balcony with Shoko and share a cigarette as you escape the house that was way too hot. The alcohol and mass of body heat had begun to be too much, which had her leading you out to get you some fresh air after Haibara had pointed out that you were looking like you were unwell. 

“Alright, pretty girl, let me find one of those goofs so they can get their little drunk home.” The comment has you nodding, agreeing to stay put at her request so you’d be easier for them to find. 

“Hey,” you hear one of their modulators a few minutes later, and you turn to smile at whatever one you’d gotten to come get you. You’d sobered up a bit, so you have no issue when gloved hands come to rest on your sides that were left uncovered by your skimpy costume. “Feeling okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, letting him back you into the railing to trap you. “Wanna fuck me in your costume?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

You don’t like that you can’t kiss any part of him due to how covered he was, but that doesn’t stop you from undoing his belt and reaching into his pants to his already half hard cock and smiling up at him when he sighs. You’d already been fucked by them earlier in the evening before leaving for this party, so you only needed to get him ready - something that doesn’t take long as he grinds into your hand. You’re pushing his pants down a bit when you feel he’s ready, and he’s pushing your bodysuit to the side before ripping at your fishnets to get the access he needed before lining up his tip with your entrance. You were already wet, the costumed sex and voice modulator turning you on more than you’d thought it would, which makes it easy for him to push into your waiting hole with a groan. Your hands grip his jacket, feeling something damp but you’re not concerned since somebody probably just spilled their drink on him. He’s pushing you up against the railing, using that to help support you while bringing your legs around his waist. Your arms move to wrap around his neck, pulling yourself flush against him and again feeling that damp feeling but still not caring since the way he was driving you onto his cock had cleared your mind of everything but him…whichever one he was. 

“Fuck, I love you,” you whine into his neck, the breathy chuckle in your ear sending a shiver down your spine that had you clenching around him. “S-so much.”

There’s an order for you to hold still, your back being pushed against the railing so much it digs into your spine uncomfortably. The pain doesn’t matter to you at all when his hips pound into yours at an unrelenting pace, working to chase both of your individual orgasms. You’re letting out broken moans each time he bottoms out, tears welling in your eyes at how good he was making you feel. 

“Love your sweet pussy s’much,” he grunts, squeezing your hips tighter. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

What sounds like a scream from below has you turning your head in concern, hand on his chest making him stop for a moment as you ask if he had also heard that. It sounded kind of like someone was in pain, if you were a decent person you’d at least check to see if they were okay. 

“Someone must be having as much fun as we are. Let’s not interrupt them, baby.”

You nod at his suggestion, looking back to him as he starts again, gloved fingers digging into your hips hard enough that you’d be bruised but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when he was fucking you like this on Shoko’s balcony. And you truly couldn’t tell which one of them this was, he was using terms of endearment that they both would use so you couldn’t narrow it down that way. But you didn’t necessarily care, you knew it was one of your boys and the one who wasn’t fucking you right now would take what was his as soon as he could. 

“Gonna cum inside me, baby?” you ask, pressing your forehead against his mask and smiling when you hear him tell you that he was. He was going to fuck you full, make you keep his cum inside you all night until you left this stupid party and he got to have you again. Mentions of an Eiffel Tower being in your future have you shuddering, and your walls tighten around his length at the idea. Taking them both was always such a treat.

“Be good and cum for me, alright? Get my cock all wet and creamy, and let ‘em all know you’re getting fucked good out here. Maybe he’ll get jealous and come join us for another round.”

“Shoko would kill us.” You decline the offer, holding him tighter as you feel that white hot feeling in your core. “Gonna cum.”

“Me too, gonna fill my lil pussycat.” 

And he does, his hips stuttering in their pace until he’s still, and you feel him pulsing inside you as he cums inside you. A couple strokes to push it deeper inside, ensuring there was evidence when the other came to take his own share of your body. 

“Fuck, I love you princess,” he mumbles, carefully resting his mask against your forehead. It’s as close as you’ll get to a kiss while he was in costume, since he didn’t want to give up the game that was you not knowing who he was. 

It’s when he sets you on your feet, taking a moment to make sure you were steady before fixing his pants, that you look past him into the house only to see someone lying on the ground by the glass door. What looks like blood has pooled beneath them on Shoko’s wood floors, and you’re looking up at him in concern. 

“Babe, do you know what’s happening?”

“Probably just a prank, honey. It is Halloween.” 

The answer is satisfactory enough, and you take his hand so he can lead you into the house. A gentle nudge of your foot to the ass of the prankster gets no response, so you joke that he can give up the game since he’d been caught. It was odd that there wasn’t even an amused laugh at being found out, but commitment to the bit could be respected as you walk through the house. 

A decision you’d regret as you see more bodies laying on the floors. 

You turn around to where your boyfriend should be, only to see him missing. 

“Suguru!? Satoru!?” Your call is only met with silence, and you feel the tears burn at your eyes as the fear truly settles in. “Ha-ha. Come on assholes, I’m ready to go home since everyone wants to act dead.”

“Who said they were acting?” 

You swear your heart stops, and you finally catch sight of the blood on your hands before you look down and see blood had transferred onto your body. So whatever had been on one of their costumes wasn’t a drink at all, but…

“Oh, my god.”

“There you go, pretty girl. You always were smart.”

You want to throw up, the bile rising in your throat but you don’t have time to do that now. He was taking slow, predatory steps towards you with a knife in hand, already dripping blood. How many people had he killed before he’d gotten to you? How could he, in any sort of mindset, fuck you on the balcony while covered in the blood of someone else? How many people had he sliced through before getting to you?

“Oh, look at you babygirl. So scared,” he coos, watching as your bottom lip trembles as you continue to take steps backwards. “Show me how pretty you are when you cry for me.”

“E-even Shoko?”

“And listening to her and Haibara scream was the good part,” you hear behind you, but you don’t bother to look over your shoulder. You knew who was there, knew what was going to happen when the hand grips your waist and the knife is put against your throat. 

“Who is who?” you ask, feeling your back get pulled flush against the chest behind you. You’d be covered in blood by the time they were done with you, and most of it wouldn’t be yours. 

“Does it matter, princess? You fuck us both anyway, right?” The voice behind you has you squinting as you try to figure it out based on the tone, but the tip of the knife pressing into your throat to create the smallest of punctures to make you bleed has your mind pulling a blank. It didn’t matter who was who, you supposed, considering you did sleep with both of them. They both chose to do this, did it matter which one covered you in blood?

But you knew better than to be truly scared, they wouldn’t lay a finger on you more than they already had. 

After all, you were their alibi. 

“The modulator is creepy; turn that shit off, both of you.”

“No fun,” Satoru whines from behind you, and you hear the rustling of his mask behind you so he can kiss your cheek. “But let’s get you home so I can fuck you. Suguru always has all the fun.”

“Okay but I can’t believe you fucked me covered in blood. It’s never going to come out of this bodysuit, asshole.” 

“It’s getting set on fire tomorrow anyway, we’ll replace it.”

[vampirae]

Astrology Observations

I've seen many people saying that air mars are less likely to be aggressive or getting physical in a fight, in part it's true but not all. Gemini mars will say hurtful things or straight up ridicule you that you'll need weeks to recover from it. Aquarius mars will shout and be so damn aggressive in their speech that you'll get immediately afraid of them, the type to really make you consider calling cops on them. I mean you could do, they wouldn't fucking care, they're here to cause drama. Meanwhile Libra mars, oh damn, if they're angry af, they wouldn't ponder, they'll straight up punch you the face. This happens because of their cardinal nature, which essence is dynamic, action oriented, starting up things. They can and would get physical, and really really scary.

Libra mars values peace, but people mistake them and their intentions to maintain it. If you need to slap some bitch to achieve some balance or calmness they would do it. Even through war you can achieve peace, not only by being tolerant and comprehensive or bottling up rage.

About cardinal mars, they're the most dangerous, you should really be afraid to anger them. When they're angry, they're so focused on their feelings that they don't see anything else or don't think about consequences. Also they're the least to get angry, except in youth, or aries mars. You think a Cancer, Libra or Capricorn mars wouldn't beat the shit out of you? Or wouldn't think about murdering you brutally? They can and would do it, if they lose control over themselves.

Furthermore, they have a such exciting and sensual nature, they need intimacy on daily basis and could get even really offended if they're advances are being refused or if you don't satisfy their needs. Really sluty bitches.

Also the types to get into BDSM, usually great Switches or Doms.

Honorable mention is Scorpio mars, another sluty placement, though they perform well in all BDSM roles. Also need a lot of intimacy, to the point they may get crazy or overworked if they don't get it, it's even more frustrating if they have feelings for someone or a partner. They just need to feel like they're drowned in pleasure or they will go crazy. Great partner if you look for someone wild but loyal, basically the best babyboy/master/babygirl/mistress. A big off for them, I've noticed is ménage a trois, orgy, and whatever implies changing partner. They don't love the idea of sharing their sexual energy with people they hold no interest/feelings.

All cancer men placements love boobies, not only venus or mars. Also it's not always about an abundant bust, it's also about the color, how firm they are, the form etc. They take into account so many details lol

Meanwhile libra placements men look for the booty, in this case you have to not be plain. It's not about big booty too, just to have some, they even like smaller booty too but well shaped.

Taurus mars men can be pretty libertine, sometimes even cheaters. They just enjoy attention from others, and are kinda "generous" with their dick. Similar to Sagittarius mars.

Now changing subject, there's a big debate about which of the big 3 it's the real you, well from what I've noticed it's pretty easy to spot. You have to consider your rising as the most important because without it you even wouldn't have houses etc. It's literally your life path, the choice you'll do, how you'll act etc. Literally this mf isn't only about how sexy or beautiful you're it's about how you'll fuck up your life or how you'll succeed. Plus you have to consider if you have more masculine or feminine signs in your big 3. Let's say you have your sun and moon in masculine signs but your rising in a feminine sign, what will happen? Easy, you'll be reserved, shy, you need your time to get to know people but you can dwell well in social situations and could easily make friends or gain sympathies.

Stelliums also make a huge impact, the more planets you have in a sign the stronger the impact will be, even more if you have personal planets in. So about the aforementioned topic, look at your rising sign, at your stellium sign + the feminine or masculine sign of your big 3 and Stellium. Let's say your big 3, you have a majority of masculine signs but you have a stellium in a feminine sign, how will you act? Easy, you'll try to maintain a balance or just go in cycles, one period you're the hot bitch running the show and then start your sexy mysterious hermit era.

I know that polarities (yin/yang) aren't talked about that much, but they have a huge impact on your personality, exactly like dominant modalities, elements etc.

[jadeslayter]

𝝑𝑒 ࣪ 𓈒・ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ᐟ.ᐣ

★☆ --  MeanDom! Toji x Fem!Reader ☆★ -- In which Toji uses your mouth after you've ran it all day.

☾ ⋆ ｡ 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. :

 nsfw content . slow burn, face fucking, degradation (a lot...), praise, dacryphilia, condescending Toji (ofc <3), slight dumbification, huge power dynamic, subtle suggestion of infidelity, dub-con, slight aftercare, pet names 'Honeycomb' 'Baby', oral (M receiving) w a plot twist :P

𓈒 ᶻ 𐰁 ﾟ˖ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐍𝐓. :

-- four-point-six thousand +

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐃 as he strummed his fingers against the leather steering wheel, warm hide underneath calloused hands. Agitation lingered between the two of you. "You know I love you, baby," the man starts, and now it's your turn to sigh. You got tired of hearing the same line-- the same bullshit. His words always seemed to work a nerve only your mother could hit. 

"Toji, please," Your voice came out a harsh bite. "Don't give me that—that bullshit." A stammer passes you throat as your eyes lingered to the scar on his lip— a slit the length of a quarter— while it twisted in movement; a taunting smile. Out of all fairness, who was Toji if not a whore for agitating you; flustering you. 

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment, tepid like pollinated spring air. 

The belly of his truck grows eerily silent, radio muted; the lull of it all engulfing you, overwhelming your senses. "Bullshit," He repeats, easing his heavy boots off the brake pedal when the stoplight changes. "My love for you is bullshit?"  Your lovers expression read opposite of his retort, a cunning grin plastering his face. 

Even under the dim hue of the streetlights, you could make out the intention behind his roguishly sly smirk. He was toying with you; pushing your limits to see how far he could get. How far you'd let him get. 

"That isn't very nice, sweetheart, is it?" He shares his gaze between you and the lane ahead of him, stealing glimpses of your puffed cheeks. "You never take me serious," You groan in frustration, tears pricking at your eyes as the tips of your ears grew warm in anger. 

It agitated you how easily things rolled off his back; how immune he was to your attitude sometimes. It wasn't intentional, that was just how your lover was. That was his persona. Toji leaned forward in his seat, his heavy hands thumping up against the blinker bar. The bulb flickered as he merged into the left lane, slowing behind the flow of traffic once he merged successfully. 

"What?" He chuckled, his eyes squinting at the corners as he reeled his head back in disagreement. "I don't take you serious? Listen to yourself, Baby."

Every word he spoke dug his grave six feet deeper. It's was almost as if he was oblivious to your inclination. The bare thought of it boiled the blood in your veins. You hated how indifferent Toji presented himself when it came to situations of vulnerability; down to his place of work. 

He wasn't much of a talker, by default, but it seemed like he wasn't much of a listener, either. 

"I don't wanna talk about this anymore, Toji." You breathed bitterly, dancing around your words carefully as to avoid prying. 

But Toji hadn't pried any more than you allowed, only shrugged his shoulders. Indifference, once more. He raised his brows, corners of his mouth winding in a quick and dismissive frown. "About what?" 

Toji pulls the width of his truck into the incline of your apartment complex, punching the entry passcode into the number-pad before proceeding behind the metal bars. His bright headlights reflect off the matte black of the gate, blinding you temporarily as you pass. 

The entrance of your complex was all too familiar, and you wished for your bed to simply engulf you whole. You were the happiest in your moment of relaxation. It hadn't taken you long to flop face-first down into the plush of your pillows, relishing in the cotton sheets. 

Though you had asked for your space, Toji lingered in the back of your mind like the aftersting of an ant bite. A leech you were unable to get rid of. He wasn't demanding per se, and that was the issue. He dismissed you on account of your behalf. If you say you wanted space, he would give you space. It was at his discretion when he decided he had given you enough. 

A heavy thud; Toji's boots. They hit the hardwood with a *clunk*, reverberating through the hallway. Footsteps follow suit, trailing to the far left side of the complex. The kitchen. The apartment is silent for a beat, constant hum of the air-conditioning unit buzzing through the air vents. 

The water tap hisses to life; Toji was getting himself a glass of water. Silence again, and then footsteps. Approaching footsteps. His weight causes the floorboards to creak underneath him as he emerges from the depths of the living room, tone, muscular body slanted against the threshold of your bedroom door. He only stood, observing silently; disregarding to conceal his presence. Merely surveying you as you lay motionless. 

Toji sucks in a huff of hair, filling his lungs before speaking. "Anyone home?" A chuckle passes his throat as his knuckles rap at the soft wood adorning the threshold. "Brought you some water-- you know, cause you yelled for fifteen minutes.." His words trail as he examines you. Toji would be a fool to say you were anything but gorgeous-- regardless how subjective beauty was supposed to be. 

You were the embodiment of it, no matter the circumstances. He never got tired of looking at you, watching how your smile lines wrinkle at every joke that spills from his lips. He hated that you were upset with him, but he hadn't understood why. He only wanted to make you happy; he wanted to make you feel special. 

A muffled chuckle passed your lips, the pillow swallowing it. In an effort to display your slant, you're sure to keep your body plank board still. You hadn't wanted to give him the satisfaction of earning a giggle out of you. Call it petty, call it dramatic. 

"Idontwantit," Coyly, you mumble your resolve, face buried within the silk of your pillowcase. Toji was the incarnation of double standards, yes, but he knew right from wrong. It'd be uncivil for him to have accepted your spurn, knowing you two had just left off in this exact situation. If he were to act as if he hadn't cared, it'd seem as such. In any event— with any other person— that'd be okay. 

He knew you were vulnerable, whether you allowed him inside of that vulnerability or not wasn't up to him. He could only aid the process. Toji sighed heavily, his chest sinking as he breathed. "Baby, could you just work with me?" He sat the glass upon the dresser top, seating himself at the foot of the bed as he looked at you. "If my throat was hurting, I know yours was, too. So please, do the both of us a favor, and drink." He wasn't stern. His tone only wavered as he spoke to you in hopes of enunciating his resolve. 

You hesitated whilst Toji breathed beside you, his angular orbs gazing around the bedroom. You hadn't wanted to press him too much, regardless of how unforgiving you had been prior. You received no enjoyment from beating a dead horse; it was obvious Toji had no longer wanted to entertain the cat and mouse game— he only wanted understanding.

Your arm rose from its idle position before extending towards the stationary glass of water. You sat up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows, before wrapping your slim fingers around the cup and pulling it closer to you. "Good girl, such a good girl." He coos, his rough knuckles caressing the supple skin of your thigh as you drink down the liquid, the coolness of it aiding your throat. Toji pecks your shin as you oblige his command.

As much as you hated to admit it, Toji was right. Unfortunately. And you despised it. 

You downed the rest of the glass quickly— to which your lover observed with a Birds Eye, staring as you drunk down the beverage with haste. "So thirsty, Baby. I knew you needed some water. See, what would you do without me, Honeycomb." He purred. It wasn't a question, he was stating himself; boasting, of sorts. 

You sat the empty glass into your lovers open palm. He took it, standing from his position before shuffling over to set the cup on the nightstand where it once rested. Toji returned to the foot of the bed; his footsteps dragging against the carpet.

You slumped your head against the cool of your pillow, eyelids shutting. The silk felt so heavenly against your skin— your senses felt so heightened after such a long, dull evening. It was apparent Toji was at the edge of the bed, but it didn't shift with his weight. He was merely hovering once again. 

Toji's hands trailed from the individual cuffed hems of your shorts down to the underside of your knees, squeezing at the skin between his hands. "You're just a lost puppy," He chuckled as he kneaded the skin, his hands leisurely streaming down your calves, to finally your ankles. "You wouldn't know how to get by." His words oozed with subtle animosity, and you weren't able to comprehend why. He was speaking to you as if you were below him. 

You mind was beginning to wonder, though. He knew you enjoyed being degraded, but you were unsure if he was being ungenuine. Did he really view you as vulnerable as a puppy? And if so, what did that make him? His complex made your eyes roll. Though he was acting quite the cunt, you weren't able to hide your indefinite arousal. It made you thighs clench— nasty girl. 

Your attitude had became harder to mask under his probe, but you hadn't minded. The sensation of his large hands exploring your curves had felt too good. Too real. Still, you remained silent. The bright overhead lights were beginning to beam through your eyelids, casting an uncomfortable orange static hue. It was unusual for the lights to irritate you as much as they were. In response, you shifted your face away from the light, aiding your sensitive eyeballs some relief. 

Toji noticed your stirring. You hadn't reacted to his previous statements, which intrigued him. You were the combative type, and he used that against you in the best circumstances. Fundamentally for his own enjoyment. For you to dismiss his lure was unusual. The only instance you'd do so would be if you happened to fall asleep. 

Toji hadn't wanted you to sleeeeeppppp. He wasn't finished toying with you. Your sudden lose of energy upset him. His lips downturned at the corners. How could you just sleep, after such an intense conversation? After he went out of his way for you? If you fell asleep, Toji'd have to get himself off, and that just wouldn't do. 

You owed him an apology, anyways. He'd get it one way or the other. 

His heavy hands latched around your ankles, the grip boring into your flesh. In one fluid motion, he yanked your mass to the edge of the bed, your torso planked and slack against his sudden jerk. Your hands instinctively flew above your head, your fingers clutching onto the quilt beneath you in surprise. Your eyelids shot open immediately; overwhelming yellow and white light blinding you. 

"Toji—?" You gasped, craning your neck quickly to look back at the man holding you above ground by your ankles, your breasts spilling halfway over the edge of the bed as you lay upon your arms. He released you just as quickly as he seized you— the weight of your lower half plummeting to the shag below. 

Toji took his place on the edge of the bed once more, watching motionlessly as you scramble to your feet, discombobulated by his sudden mistreatment. Toji seemed irritated and impatient, his body language wavering. His hands groped your waist primitively, the cotton of your shirt bunching underneath his fingertips. "You can't sleep for this, sweetheart," He sighed, running his rugged hands underneath the trim of t-shirt. "I apologize. Though you're the one who should repent."

Toji's warm hands skimmed the flesh of your hips, his fingers kneading at the doughy pudge. "I try my hardest to take care of you," His voice reverberates in his throat as a deep grunt, your lovers words thick in your ears. "Treat you like a princess— you know. Pay for your pretty nails," Fingers trail from your lower spine to the middle of your back, shivers kissing your skin. His hands wrap around your wrists. Slowly. 

Like snakes, entrapping their prey.  You were prey. 

Toji's calloused hands hold your wrists firm in place, entrapping their loot in a tight-knuckled prison; his grip imprinting the swirls of his fingerprints upon your skin. If one thing was certain, it was Toji's inability to withhold his emotions— especially when it came to you. He was a fountain. Overflowing with adoration; ovation deep-rooted in every sliver of his being. It was unethical for you to assume anything other than, Silly Girl.

"Spend my last dollar on fitted lingerie, tailored to one woman's curves," Dark green, intimidating jade bores into you, searching your worry filled eyes for the tiniest reaction; a sparkle of dirty acknowledgment. Lust. 

He was determined to get something. 

His intense grasp begins to leave handprints on your wrists, the flesh bruised from his subtle animosity. It was obvious his temper was rising fast, filling his tin bucket before it reaches its brim. A time bomb set to detonate. 

The man's tired eyes wrinkled at the corners as he observed you for an uncomfortably long amount of time, taking in every feminine detail of your pretty face. The pretty face he couldn't wait to fuck. Ruin, ruthlessly. 

Your heartbeat was consistent in your ears, heavy thumping against your chest reverberating in waves of intoxicating confusion. It wasn't unlikely that the silk lace of your panties— specially tailored LaPerla thongs, firm above your v-line— wasn't stained in your filthy arousal. How shameful you must feel, Toji would say, soaking through your underwear. And it was. Undoubtably so. 

One minute you hate his guts, the next you want him inside of yours. Thrusting his kids into them. It was pitiful how easily you submitted under his will; putty in his large, caring hands. The hands that yanked you into his lap in one fluid motion, startling you from your foggy high. 

Your face crashes into his chest as your legs buckle under your weight— and Toji's ready for your descent. His knees spread instinctively, the grip on your wrists guiding you to your knees. Your perfect perch, right where you belonged. He'd keep you locked between his legs all day if he could; using your mouth as a hole to fill as he pleased. 

"Course, that couldn't be you, right?" He spat, releasing your wrists and replacing the emptiness in his hands with your chin, gripping it tightly between a curled index and hard thumb. "You couldn't be the woman I come home to every night, could you?" A chuckle— guttural and tantalizing. 

His words melted in your ears, fizzy in your bloodstream like drugs; addicting. Toji was a bastard, that was for sure. But he fucked you damn good, and no amount of ADAC could cure your addiction. His arrogance radiated off of him like poisonous smoke, and you couldn't get enough of it. 

Not when he treated you so good outside of bed. You didn't mind being treated like a whore behind closed doors— and he had no problem obliging. "Course not." He says simply. Toji rips his gaze from you, averting his attention to the wall behind you in a seemingly disgusted way. Unsatisfied with your presence, almost. 

He adjusts himself on his sheeted post, shifting his hips towards you. Toji inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the faint scent of your perfume— your essence lingering underneath his nose. "Suck my fucking cock, and do not disappoint me, slut." His words slice your skin smoother than blades, Toji's sudden hostility puncturing layers of flesh. 

You obliged almost instantaneously, frantic hands working the leather of his belt out of its looped restraints. The clothing rested in its home somewhere among the dark recesses of your shared bedroom. "Good girl," Fond praise kisses your ears as you work him free from his layers of clothing, his boxers pooling around his ankles as his pretty red tip— free from the wretched bindings of cloth— oozed with milky white ropes of precum. "Do you even deserve to be called that?" 

You took Toji's impatient head into your mouth, tears threatening to spill from your squinted eyes. You weren't crying, were you? Not because of overstimulation, of course, not yet, but anxiety. Undeniable, palpable anxiety. He was a man of mystique and wonder— unpredictable in the best ways, and his antics never failed to amaze you; have you breathless. 

It wasn't unlike him to be... overbearing, at times. Outgoing, determined to prove a point. He was determined to prove just how resilient you were. Toji was determined to punish you—- as did you when accusing him of such offenses; Not taking you serious? How upset he must have been for you to suggest such a thing.

He wished to hurt you in the aspect you have hurt him— because karma's a dish best served raw and feral. 

Toji releases a low grunt, his pleasure hitching in his throat as he took hold of your hair; entangling his fingers. "I don't want foreplay, take it deep." It wasn't a command or a bark, but a statement. He was not waiting for your approval or competence, he simply forced your head down to the base of his cock. And held you there— drool, tears and all. Toji enjoyed you thoroughly. He enjoyed being the puppeteer to his own private show. "F-uck, baby— gagonit, yeah.."

And you did. You sputtered around his length as you struggled to take him, that vengeful cockhead of his jutting into the recesses of your trachea. Toji enjoyed watching you struggle to take him completely— your shivering hands stroking the several inches you weren't able to swallow. His pleasure was plentiful, too. Loud, grating grouses and huffs echoed through the still of your bedroom... and you loved it. 

You loved hearing Toji lose himself at your will. You loved being his free use holes. The dynamic shared between the two of you was as simple as night and day; you were needy, and he was a glutton for coition. He couldn't help himself, and neither could you.

It was undeniable that the both of you had an attraction like no other. Toji loved you— he worshiped the ground you walked on, day in, day out. "The woman I come home to every night," He started whilst he aided your neck, supporting the weight of your head with his palm underneath your chin as you worked him with your tongue. 

His words lingered in the air, pleasure coursing through his bloodstream as a moan interrupted his sentence. He continued his rant as his hands moved from your chin to the back of your neck, holding your hair in place. "She respects herself. A lot more than you do, right?" He chuckled, his green eyes staring daggers through your messy face. 

"I mean—fuck, baby— don't get me wrong," His eyes studied your overstuffed lips, full to the brim with his twitching cock. "You know how to use your pretty mouth, but that's all you're really good for." Toji sucked his teeth— his bottom lip snaking between his rows of pearly whites as he gnawed on it, keeping himself from bellowing in pleasure.

By the twitch of his cock, it was obvious he wasn't going to last too much longer, and you were okay with that. You were happy with whatever he gave you, despite his humiliating words. You were grateful he gave you attention, no matter how upset you were with him. 

Was it pretentious to lose your attitude so quickly? Considering you were so defiant prior, you felt a bit conspicuous being so... open and giving. So submissive. "Fuckinghell— C'mon, Pretty Girl, don't youhwhant.." He slurred, raven hair falling behind his reclined head as he rutted into your throat. Toji held you in place as he fucked your face. "Ahll this f-ucking cum, you whore? Work for it, baby," 

His edge was approaching, engulfing the males entire being in blissful euphoria— his cock overflowing with ecstasy as he plunged himself into your mouth; your fingers probing his tense thighs for leverage as you suffocated on Toji's oh-so grateful cockhead. 

"Godda-mnit— hohfuck, gonna cum, Love. Down that.. pretty fucking throat." He praised, rutting his heat into you with pure rapture. He thrusted into you as if his life depended on it— as if this were his last orgasm. As if he were completely and utterly innocent in his wrongdoings. As if he hadn't intentionally provoked you in hopes of giving you a false sense of authority. 

As if this wasn't a power trip for him. 

You knew Toji was a greedy man; for your affection, your praise, your attention. If he had things his way, Toji would work from home, and he'd have you all to himself, hidden away from lust-wridden eyes. Pampering and nurturing you— just you and him.

Regardless if he was guilty of infidelity, arson, or murder, he knew who he wanted to come home to. That's all that should've mattered, right? But women and their ridiculous need for restrictions. Defiance wasn't on his agenda. 

If smooth talking you wasn't working

It was nothing for Toji to slip the small pill into the glass; it was scentless, tasteless, and fizzless. He was doing the both of you a favor, really. Charity work, because he loved you so much. 

It was better this way; better if you submitted to him unbeknownst. It wasn't unusual, so there was no harm done. Toji was only being cautious in his effort to protect what he loved— and that was you, sweetheart. 

The side effects weren't a precaution he was too worried about, due to research. Dizziness, light sensitivity; blah blah blah. He'd never slip you something without knowing what'd it'd do to you. He wasn't a monster. 

He slipped the first Viagra pill into a fountain beverage he'd purchased from a corner store; ripping the drug from its plastic and plopping it right into the dark brown liquid of the styrofoam cup. 

Toji finishes down your throat quickly; roughly— yanking at your hair vigorously. His orgasm was a beast; shooting down your throat in warm, thick ropes. Your lover, his toned legs spasming in pleasure, was overcome in his surge of euphoria. So much so, that upon his attempt to praise your ability to swallow his seed, a low grumble only passed his throat— Adams apple bobbing tensely underneath his skin. 

His cum sat at the back of your throat uncomfortably with every swallow, his cock continuing to bury itself into your cavern as Toji rode his orgasm out at your expense. "Yesyesy-es, baby, swallow...e-verything.." His hips falter as he comes down from his orgasmic high. He's worn, and in the best ways possible. If he were to be shot graveyard dead, he'd have died a happy man. 

He knew regardless how many sinful acts he committed; messy situations he created sacrificing your peace of mind, that you'd forgive him. Because you loved him, right? Mistakes were temporary, but the love you had for him was endless. Toji knew this, and used your vulnerability for his own selfish benefit. 

"Ifuckingloveyou," He breathed, finalizing the abuse to your face with one soft thrust, pulling his sensitive length from your mouth— a 'pop' resounding as he exits. Toji huffed whilst closing his eyes, his robust chest heaved as he recollected himself. He cupped your jaw in his hands, slouching his spine as he rested his forehead against yours. The defined scar on his lip only inches away from your nose. 

"You alright..?" He chuckled softly, caressing the supple skin of your cheek with his padded thumb. Despite his feral disposition, he still had a heart. He still loved you, as he always has. His orgasm will never stop him from valuing your affection. Regardless of the hurdles he jumped through in order to maintain a stable lifestyle for the both of you, you were his priority. 

You nod your head stiffly, sucking in full gusts of air for the first time in all of 6 minutes. Toji replied with a hushed sigh, pressing his glossed cheek against your own. "Words, Pretty Girl. I need you to talk to me," Your cheeks heat in blandishment. Toji's tone was so contradictory prior to his orgasm, it felt foreign to be treated with genuine care. 

Nonetheless, you knew Toji's conceited facade would waver once he was off his pedestal. And it did, as always. Insolent by design; poppet by heart. 

"I'm okay, Ji'" You peep meekly due to your throat being rubbed raw, which earns a healthy snicker from Toji's lips. A warm laugh, wholesome in nature. Completely opposite.

"You sure, hon?" He was true in his concern, massaging your neck as he spoke to you in his soothing manner. "I wasn't intending to be that rough, forgive me," It was a lie, but it sounded better than him saying he intentionally fucked your throat raw. 

"You are my everything," He grins, peppering kisses haphazardly across your face as he cups you between his palms, anchoring you in place. "So, so very much, okay, Baby?" He places one final kiss upon your lips, the seal lingering whilst he intertwines himself with you. 

You smiled lazily in the kiss, your jaw aching. Once the two of you separated, Toji stood in front of you, bending his knees to your level. He placed one sturdy arm behind your back— right underneath the curve of your spine— and the other underneath the bend of your knees, hoisting you up into his arms; your legs dangling over his biceps. "I just wish I could take it easier on you."

He cared so much for you, so much so that he needed to make sure you learned your lesson through and through. He'd take care of you— clean you up, dress you up, just enough to break you, and repeat the cycle all over. Over and over, so he can prove his point from all positions. 

Though he was guilty of being untruthful in some aspect, he hadn't believed so. He was guilty of being a hard working man. He provided for his family, regardless of how he did it. 

He worked the way he did in order to provide for you. Was it such a crime to bear the weight of the consequences? He'd carry the burden until his hands were sore.

© JadeSlayter , 2024 Tumblr

[earthmoonz]

WIFEY. | EPISODE TEN (10.10) [ACT THREE]

start / previous / next

Luis and Lourdes had driven in heavy silence, neither willing to speak first for fear of igniting another argument. Being at odds was new to them, and in the deepest recesses of Luis’ mind he wondered if this dynamic would be permanent, further distancing him from his already fractured family. 

Lourdes, who typically preferred peace over conflict, found herself bubbling with a rage so potent, she felt like a stranger to herself. For the first time she seemed to truly understand the truth of womanhood in her family. So much pain to hold back. So much poison to swallow down. It was clear to her now why her sister behaved the way she did. Before, Lourdes had loved Lena in spite of her violent nature. Now she wondered if that same violence was bravery instead.

(transcript below)

(LUIS): [Noticing Lena’s car] Let’s get this over with.

[As the siblings walk towards each other, the air is thick with tension. The one-two punch of seeing both of her siblings arrive mixes with Lena’s ongoing anxieties over Max. Betrayal and fear distil themselves into an ache in her chest, giving her a brief pause before she speaks. However, the silence proves too much for Lourdes and her rising panic makes her talk first]

(LOURDES): Lena…I know how this looks, but please. If you let us explain then I’m sure we can have a civil conv-

(LENA): Sure? Oh that’s funny. An hour ago I was sure my sister wasn’t a traitorous bitch. 

(LOURDES): Lena! You don’t understand! 

(LENA): Get the fuck out of my sight Lourdes, before I change my mind.

(LOURDES): I-

(LUIS): Go wait in the car. 

[Lourdes, now devastated, stomps off in the direction of the car]

(LUIS): If it’s any consolation, she hated lying to you and mami, and probably she hates me now too.

(LENA): She can join the fucking club. What is wrong with you Luis? [Gritted teeth] Why would you do this? What was there to gain?

(LUIS): Even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand. You have no idea what it’s like to atone for the sins of this fucking family.

(LENA): Oh give me a break! Do you think you’re the only one who’s been through shit? Who’s fucking sacrificed?

(LUIS): No. But unlike you, my shit isn’t self-inflicted.

[Lena punches Luis to the ground]

(LOURDES): [witnessing it] here we fucking go.

(LENA): [Flexing her hand] get up.

[Luis scrambles to get back on his feet]

(LENA): Do you know what your problem is? You don’t know how to de-escalate. You just expect people to back down and acquiesce to your point of view. [Luis gets back up, breathing heavily] …And if you can’t get your way, you provoke people into being their worst selves, so that you can say your hand was forced. Now we both know that shit doesn’t run with me, so how about you try telling the truth instead?

[Luis takes this opportunity to shove Lena to the ground, they fall together and immediately start fighting.]

(LUIS): [Breathless, mocking] that ‘I’m so tough’ shit is getting old, Lena.

(LENA): [venomous] Prick. [She surprises Luis by shoving him off her, quickly regaining the upper hand. Her gun clatters to the floor in the process.] 

(LOURDES): [quiet, panicked] Oh fuck!

(LENA): Aw poor Luis, it’s so hard being daddy’s favourite, I’m such an angel! It’s my sister who’s a big bad monster! Boo-fucking-Hoo. [deadly] You know I promised mami I’d bring you home, I just didn’t say what condition…

[Lourdes sprints back into view, Roy’s black SUV pulls up]

(LOURDES): Lena! That’s enough!

[Lena releases him immediately, shocked out of her blind rage, the two sit, facing each other]

(LENA): …He’s fine. 

[Car door slams, Roy steps out, but so does someone else]

(LENA): [Now standing] Max?

(MAX): …Hi.

[the-californicationist]

Dearest, I find myself once again on my knees, hoping to scratch your brain for any crumbs of The Old Way universe. Just, have you had any thoughts on that au of how the characters are, what they're up to, or what dynamics have been built or are/would be shaping up to be?

I'm the same anon that asked a while ago and truly ignore this if this too much or annoying. I was just hoping if you could spare any crumbs of your goregous, genius mind. ilysm 🧎‍♀️💕 (also I'm in love with how you wrote priest/vamp price, amazing work on that!)

Hey anon! I’m so glad you liked vampire priest price! He was a fun one.

As for The Old Way, boy howdy, do I have thoughts!

Cause like, chapter two is obviously a hyper realistic exposition on the actual tradition of the bonded mating ritual between reader and Price, right?

Maybe this is a hear me out moment, but Omegaverse fics intrigue me for three main reasons which I will outline below and elaborate on in way too much detail:

1. The fuck-or-die element of the heat/rut cycle

2. The fantastical/unrealistic physical stretch required to take a knot

3. The fantastical/unrealistic duration (and lack of a refractory period) that a knot remains inside of its hole

To clarify…

As for the first, this is the true animalistic element, imo. And what’s hotter than sexual need, right? Like the feeling of sexual starvation being sated??? It makes my brain turn into literal mush. The first bite of food after a fast. The first sip of cool water after a march through the desert. The first gasp of air after swimming up from the deepest depths. The first touch of skin on naked skin when you’ve been writhing and needing and alone. Ugh. Fuck me up with that shit.

As for the second, I mean this is sort of personal preference and self-explanatory but I’m a girth>length fan. As is immediately obvious when you read anything I’ve written. But specifically in this fic; here’s a man who feels unworthy of love. His fat monster cock hurt someone he cared for. As fun as it is to haul around the State Fair Blue Ribbon schlong, no one likes being left out (or 13th-wheeling in Price’s case). And when he finds his glass slipper of a mate, he feels whole again. She saves him, and she saves the day, and it’s the happily ever after of my dreams. Yay, love!

But. Here’s the kicker. Number three. Number three keeps me up at night, y’all. It plagues me. It’ll sneak into my thoughts while I’m in the middle of my daily tasks, sucker-punching me right in the chest. Idk about other Omegaverses, but the idea that we could be stretched out and stuck on John Price’s Texas-sized dong for hours (and that there is a fantastical/unrealistic element of a pain-free, pleasurable experience on our end?) is delicious. Imagine, he’s trapped himself deep within you, oozing hot come, giving you that incredible feeling of fullness, and you are just basking in it together, enjoying the sparkling electricity of every twitch and jerk of his phallus. He’s reading Yeats to you and you’re grooming his soft, curling hair, he’s keeping your energy up by feeding you grapes and honey and wine and mead, he’s sharing his hand-rolled cigars with you, letting you feel the high of the nicotine and kissing you languidly, his lips so soft and pliant that you feel as if your two bodies might melt together like smooth chocolate, homogeneous in a way that no one else will ever know. All the while, your womb is full of his heavy load, stuffed and ladden with his seed, making your belly just the slightest bit round. He feels it with his wide palm, and you can’t help but imagine how you might be thus revered when you’re heavy with his child instead.

And how long?? I mean, what’s possible here — even if we abandon plausible? An hour? Two? A night? And how often? Would his rut drive him to mate with you repeatedly in a self-sacrificing/mindless sex-driven fury? Would bonded mates be capable of something more than normal ones? What are your true powers as the Apex Omega? So many questions.

So anyway. Sorry for the hear-me-out. I recognize that not everyone is as zealously curious about the implications of an Omegaverse as I am. I just think there’s so many different ways it could go. The universe itself has so many variable possibilities and that makes it easy to create and to be creative with it. It becomes even more interesting when you compound the sexual complications with the socio-cultural context of a community dealing with that sort of hierarchical environment. Just a world of interesting knots to untangle (pun intended and weaponized).

But, I’d also like to explore the other interpersonal relationships between our lovable companions. What’s Johnny’s big loving family like? How do the kids interact with each other? Is there a leader emerging from the MacTavish clan? What about Gaz and his three Omegas? Ghost and his mini tactical squad? All of them together? What drives them to help other clans? What’s their underlying mission? How will they ensure peace across the land? How do they allocate the obviously limited resources?

It would be a fun project to navigate. I’ve written scenes here and there for it but I’ve gotta finish these other long WIPs before I start something else.

Thanks for asking! I hope this answered your question.

[blue-slxt]

Romancing Pandora 3

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: I finished this so last minute lmao. But this is a continuation of my Package Deal fic that I did a while ago. You don't really have to read that first, but you can if you like. I feel like this one is so short, but I still hope you guys enjoy it! All characters are aged up!

Pairing: Lo'ak x Fem!Metkayina!Reader x Tsireya

Warnings: Smut, P in V, Sapphics, Throuple Dynamic, Creampie

You and Lo’ak sit alone in your shared marui. You’re prepping meat to cook later and he’s working on repairing a knot in his fishing net. There’s a comfortable silence between you which was one of the things that you had grown to love about him. 

You finish prepping the food and set it off to the side. From the corner of your eye, you can see Lo’ak struggling a bit with his net. His fingers fumble and tug on the rope and it makes you stifle a small giggle as you move to sit behind him. 

“You’re not very good with your hands, are you?” you tease. 

He chuckles a bit before quipping back, “That’s not what you were saying the other night.”

You roll your eyes at him with a smirk. “Whatever, forest boy. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Oh really?”

Lo’ak shifts his position to turn to you and caresses your face with his hand. It takes a minute for you to realize that your eyes are trained on his lips in anticipation. You only notice when you see him smirk at you and a flush falls over your face. 

“Shut up”, you pout making him chuckle at you. 

He leans forward and presses his lips against yours and your body completely melts into the kiss. His hands find your hips and he pulls you into his lap so that you’re straddling him. His tewng is tented and poking you right on your clothed cunt that was surely soaking wet by now. Lo’ak lays you down on your back and grinds his hips into yours. His hand snakes down between your bodies to settle right on top of your pussy and rub lazy circles over your covered clit. 

Before you can go any further, another voice sounds from the entrance. 

“Well, well, look at who’s having fun without me”, Tsireya calls from the front of your shared home. 

The three of you have become so accustomed and comfortable with this dynamic that hearing the sudden interruption barely makes either of you bat an eye. Lo’ak barely even bothers to break the kiss when he calls back, “So come join us”.

You can hear her footsteps getting closer to you before her gorgeous face appears in your line of sight. Lo’ak’s fingers never let up on your clit, even when Tsireya turns his face towards her to kiss him. 

Breaking their kiss, Tsireya circles around behind you and positions you so that your back is pressed against her chest and your legs are spread open over her own legs. One hand is groping your breast while the other is sliding your tewng to the side to expose your slick cunt. Her lips are next to your ear and she lightly kisses along your neck. “Look at you all worked up, yawne.” 

The flush on your face deepens and a small moan escapes your lips. Lo’ak already has his tewng discarded and he’s rubbing his leaking tip through your slick. The slide in is entirely too easy and the stretch is just on the verge of being too much. Your head falls back onto Tsireya’s shoulder while Lo’ak bottoms out inside of you. 

“Reya…” you whine to her and a smile settles on her lips. 

“Yes, yes, tìyawn. I know.” She captures your lips in a heated kiss where she licks into your mouth. AT the same time, Lo’ak has started rutting into you harshly, unable to hold himself back feeling your tight, wet heat around his cock. 

“Oh, fuck, baby. I’m not gonna last long if you keep squeezing me like that”, he groans with the constant wet smack, smack, smack filling the air. 

You moan against Tsireya’s mouth and it’s muffled by her tongue in your mouth. Every thrust of his hips punches your sweet spot perfectly. Tsireya’s fingers rub into your sensitive nub causing your mouth to fall open, “Oh, fuck, Reya…” 

Lo’ak’s hand finds your face and makes you look at him. 

“Call my name when I’m inside you, baby.” 

The pressure in your body skyrockets until you’re just about ready to burst. Lo’ak keeps his hold on your face, holding eye contact with you as he chases his high.

“Aahh! Haah! Lo’ak!”

“That’s right, baby. Keep your eyes on me while I fill you up.”

Tsireya licks a long stripe up your neck to your ear and all the stimulation finally has you coming undone pressed between the two of them. Lo’ak isn’t far behind you when he spills his load inside of your fluttering walls. 

Your legs tremble and your walls continue to clench and relax around Lo’ak’s dick.

When you finally come down, both your bodies go slack while Tsireya whispers words of praise to both of you. 

A look is shared between you and Lo’ak where you exchange no words, but the understanding is clear. 

“Don’t think we’re done just yet, Reya.” you say to her. 

“We have to make sure you’re taken care of too, don’t we?” Lo’ak says starting to stroke himself slowly.

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