#i'm so torn between wanting them to just be okay and being okay with them getting a taaad bit hurt- just-

[leona-hawthorne]

okay i have been waiting for this on the edge of my seat and i'm so fucking grateful that i finally got to sit down and read it (alone, of course, because my reactions were quite literally animalistic)

let me also add that the warnings themselves had me fucking moaning—alright now let's get into this!!

zoya, your writing truly has me in complete awe. "english is not my first language" okay and it appears that that literally does not matter at all because this??? this was a goddamn masterpiece.

(apologies in advance bc this is going to be an extremely long reblog)

He was insane. Truly insane. Almost unhinged. Mattheo Riddle was the definition of impulsive thoughts turned into reckless actions, actions that always led him to trouble. He was raw, magnetic, and dangerously unpredictable, the kind of person who attracted attention without even trying.

okay, but this right here??? the way you captured mattheo's essence so perfectly, i’m obsessed. like, he’s not just reckless—he’s raw and magnetic, and that’s such a powerful way to describe someone who’s constantly teetering on the edge of chaos. it’s like you reached into his chaotic little soul and pulled out the perfect words. it’s giving “force of nature,” and the way you wrote it feels so vivid and alive, like i can see him and feel the tension he carries everywhere he goes. your writing is so sharp and evocative, i can’t stop rereading this bit.

He didn’t just attract trouble; he craved it, needed it like it was the only thing keeping him seen.

the truth was different: he thrived on attention, bad or good, as if he needed it to keep himself whole.

my babyyy, he craves trouble like it’s the only way he can feel noticed. it’s like he’s reduced his own worth to just being seen and perceived by others, even if it means chaos. love how you captured that desperation in such a short line.

every corner seemed like an unsettling, cavernous form that resembled a muggle abandoned cathedral. It felt sacred in a weird twisted way, as if it were built to bear the weight of sinful actions that were too heavy to confess elsewhere.

how do you set the tone so well?!? the imagery is wildly vivid—i can almost feel the heaviness of the space, like it’s got its own dark history!!

The only thing he knew for sure was that you almost had him entirely.

And for him, that was awful enough.

oh this killed me—the tension between wanting something and being terrified of it. mattheo’s vulnerability here is chef's kiss, showing how much he's fighting against his feelings, even when he’s almost lost to them. such a perfect snapshot of their dynamic.

He never quite understood why his heart raced when he was in your presence, as if it might break through his ribs, his flesh, and fall directly into your palms, fully out of his power. At times he couldn't help but press his hand against his own chest, trying to stop it, trying to hold it back, but it only frustrated him further.

Nevertheless, there were times when he nearly wished his heart would simply give way and land in your hands so you could do with it whatever you pleased, whether that meant crushing it entirely or holding it tenderly between your fingers.

okay i am genuinely so in love with this whole part, i had to reread it like 3 times 😵‍💫 the internal conflict is so palpable—like, he’s torn between wanting to control something that’s clearly already beyond his grasp, but also secretly wishing to surrender to the one person who can break him. the image of him physically pressing down on his chest to stop it??? i am actually crying, zoya. ugh, and the fact that he doesn't care whether he'd be hurt or cared for—he just wants her, FUCK he is obsessed.

This ritual, this moment—it was his, only his. Yet, for some reason, he felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he was going to share it with you.

AHDHSFG his possessive ass actually enjoying sharing something??? aw he likes her 😚🤗

Mattheo let out a low, almost manic laugh as his gaze remained fixed on the blade in his hand.

the way he kept laughing like a fucking maniac throughout the entirety of this fic OMG i can almost hear it in my head, he's so fucking hot.

his grip tightening around your hand, not to soothe you, but to remind himself you were still there

I'M BLUSHING, idk if he's doing that solely because of the ritual but either way, the fact that he wants to reassure himself that she didn't go anywhere is making my heart squeeze in my chest 🥹

Mattheo chuckled dryly, releasing your hand to stop you from gripping it, from finding any comfort in his presence.

BITCH??!?! YOU ASSHOLE, hold my hand i'm scared ☹️

He was an insensitive prick, but dear god, he was a beautiful one. 

this is so true—HE'S FUCKING MEAN, but i genuinely have never seen a more angelic man 😭🪽

Shit, you’re not wearing a bra.

Mattheo swore the zipper on his pants was going to break any second.

alr here we go (i'm horny now)

Without a word he reached up and tugged his shirt over his head, casting it aside without care.

well shit, now we're both hard, mattheo!! 🤜💥🤛 (i am drooling at the thought of this rn)

Your bare chests were almost touching, the air thick with tension, your hard nipples brushing just slightly against his skin.

no, you actually don't understand—this is so intimate, i can just imagine the silence and the only sound being their heavy ass breathing, its so 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 also i think i would lose my mind if my nips were like JUST BARELY brushing against him, what a tease

With a deep breath, you pressed the blade to your palm, hissing softly as the edge cut into your skin, making you feel even more bare and open than you already did.

idk if you've seen stranger things but this is making me think of when nancy and jonathan did the same exact thing and cut their palms. that scene and the matching scars and just them in general is so dear to me, so this is making me feel so many things rn

Without warning, his lips pressed against the spot, his tongue tracing the blood.

“It’s so sweet,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the skin of your neck, the crimson of your blood staining them as he pulled you closer, pressing you against him in a way that felt almost inhuman. “So fucking sweet.”

okay mr vampire!! (this is so fucking hot i am literally struggling to function rn and i am lucky i didn't read this during ovulation 🙂‍↕️)

Mattheo chuckled in satisfaction, bringing his bloodied hand to your stomach, the crimson spreading across your exposed skin like a mark. “You like it, don’t you?”

MY JAW DROPPED PLEASE OH MY GOD, HIM SPREADING THE COLD BLOOD ON HER STOMACH?? I CAN IMAGINE MYSELF JERKING AWAY OMF YES DADDY I LOVE IT

Mattheo chuckled again against your throat, his teeth sinking into the spot once more, making you moan. He mimicked the sound...

i'm being so serious, this part will live on in my brain forever. him MIMICKING/MOCKING HER MOAN??? HE'S SO MEAN AND COCKY HOLY FUCK THAT WAS SO HOT

he guided your hand to your neck, then down to your breasts, trailing the blood like a map. Before you could react to the sting of your hard nipple pressing against the cut, Mattheo moved faster, pulling your nipple—now smeared with your own blood—into his mouth. 

spreading her own blood all over her body just so he can lick it off, oml can you spread my legs open next, mattheo? 😇 (jk, they're already spread)

The way his hands pushed your now bloody breasts together enough for his head to dive between them as he continued to whisper praises, words of hunger.

“Your tits…”Mattheo moaned even louder, dragging a moan from your lips in response. Fuck, he was so close.

first, AJDGHFDJHDRFGJHAFGHJSRGFJHSRF him pressing her tits together just to SHOVE HIS FACE IN BETWEEN oh he's so down bad 🤭 also the "your tits..." BOY. he was so cocky and degrading before—now he's all pathetic and obsessing over her tits? ah, just what I love to see 😮‍💨

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, an order you immediately understood. You obeyed without hesitation, and before you could react, he spat into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside, kissing you deeply.

yes sir please spit in my mouth (he's so nasty and disgusting and i fucking love him for it)

You could feel Mattheo’s cheeks pressed against your thighs as he buried himself in your pussy, suffocating himself in your scent and taste. He mentally begged some higher power to let him one day die like this...

YES PLEASE LET ME SUFFOCATE YOU BETWEEN MY LEGS MATTY PLS 🙏 "let him one day die like this" he is so obsessed god i love this so much

“Such a pretty one you are,” he muttered, his words slurring into the juices of your cunt.

THE WAY HE CAN'T TEAR HIS FACE AWAY EVEN JUST FOR A MOMENT TO SPEAK AJDGSGDFHSDFG i would actually be dying at all the praise

clearly, i got a little carried away with this reblog (this is literally the longest reblog i’ve ever made 🧍🏻‍♀️), but what can i say? this was 6.3k words of art and i had to include all my favorite parts 🤷‍♀️🙂‍↕️

love you zoya!!!! 🫂🤍

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍

mattheo riddle x fem reader

SUMMARY. in which mattheo seeks power and needs your help to perform a blood ritual. WORDS. +6.3K. english is not my first language.

WARNINGS. smut, mdni, porn w//plot, mean mattheo, aged up characters, friends to fuck buddies, blood play, blood kink, cuts, spitting, nipple sucking, oral sex f!receiving, pussy drunk mattheo, handjob, dirty talk, biting, marking.

navigation -> masterlist

He was insane. Truly insane. Almost unhinged. Mattheo Riddle was the definition of impulsive thoughts turned into reckless actions, actions that always led him to trouble. He was raw, magnetic, and dangerously unpredictable, the kind of person who attracted attention without even trying. Every move he made, every word he spoke, every breath he took was saturated with confidence and superiority.

He didn’t just attract trouble; he craved it, needed it like it was the only thing keeping him seen.

Mattheo was like a storm no one could outrun, an enigma without resolution, and that was exactly what made him so intoxicating. There was something in his presence that pulled people toward him, whether in admiration or fear, and no one could quite decide if it was for better or worse. He wasn’t just hard to ignore; he was impossible to overlook. He demanded attention simply by existing, and it was maddening, the way he could dominate a room with nothing more than a simple glance.

It could have been for a lot of reasons. Maybe it was the way he acted like he didn’t have a care in the world, the sharp, biting comments he always seemed to have ready, words that stuck like blood on stone.Or maybe it was the fights, the way he seemed to throw himself into them too often, always coming out with the same satisfied expression. After all, he was the only son of the Dark Lord, and that alone was enough to draw all kinds of attention.

Whatever was the reason, chaos seemed to follow him everywhere, like he thrived on it. Perhaps he didn’t care at all. No outsider really knew, and no one ever tried to figure him out. Nobody had the courage to do so.

Either way, there were always whispers about him, cruel rumors about his personality and massive ego, some saying he was just like his father, or maybe even a darker version of him, while others came from students eager to get close in obscene ways, hoping to spend a night with their bodies tangled in his. 

Yet Mattheo didn’t show that he cared, always pretending to be focused on his own goals, moving through the chaos unshaken and unbothered, though deep down, the truth was different: he thrived on attention, bad or good, as if he needed it to keep himself whole.

But you had seen enough to know the truth. He was cruel, ruthless, and everything people whispered about him, perhaps even worse. And yet, here you were, trapped in his chaos, each moment with him drawing you deeper into the darkness.

You were trapped. Absolutely trapped.

Perhaps it was in the way he looked at you, his deep brown eyes burning with an intensity that stole your breath away, leaving you struggling to keep your heart from racing, as if he saw something inside of you that you weren’t capable of seeing. Or maybe it was the way his words stayed in your mind long after they were spoken, carving their way into your thoughts like a knife you didn’t want to pull out, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were already in too deep.

If you thought about it more, you didn’t know what had brought you here. The main factor to why you were so attracted to an ongoing fire.

Could be the adrenaline from his strange proposal, or the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him, his presence always glued to your mind. Could also be the need to be near him, the way your body moved toward his as if it had no will of its own, or perhaps it was the way he seemed to control your heart in a way you couldn’t even understand. It was twisted, even a little scary, but neither of you cared.

After all, you were friends.

You didn’t know when it stopped feeling like curiosity—just a lingering thought— but the doubt never really went away. Instead it became prominent, tight in your chest whenever he was around. There was something darker about him, something dangerous in the way he lived recklessly, only focused on his own desires, how he thrived on the attention he got, pulling you deeper without even trying.

And now, standing there, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever came next, there was no turning back. No escape.

The Room of Requirement was cloaked in dark shadows, the silence broken only by the faint hiss of flickering candles. Their soft, wavering light offered a fragile sense of comfort, though it did little to ease the tension hanging in the air. The atmosphere was thick and heavy, saturated with the acrid tang of burning incense and something darker, almost unspoken.

Torchlight flickered across the cold stone walls, making jagged patterns that twisted and stretched with each almost shiny flicker. That night, the requirement room felt weird, unlike the form other students seemed to used—every corner seemed like an unsettling, cavernous form that resembled a muggle abandoned cathedral. It felt sacred in a weird twisted way, as if it were built to bear the weight of sinful actions that were too heavy to confess elsewhere.

The faint metallic scent in the air lingered, sharp and heavy, mixed with something even more heavy, felt almost like a warning. On the stone floor, crude runes spiraled out in precise, jagged lines, their edges glowing faintly as though alive and energetic, pulsing in time with the biting silence as if they were watching, waiting to know what was about to take place.

In the center of it all stood Mattheo Riddle, the one person who seemed to take up every space in your mind, his dark robes draping loosely over his strong frame, giving him an effortless air of power, his features, defined and almost angelic, partially hidden by his messy curls that always fell into his pretty eyes.

The flickering torchlight danced off his hair with every movement, making it seem almost alive; there was something strange about how his appearance seemed almost angelic, yet you knew Mattheo’s true personality, making him all the more dangerous, like a trap just waiting for you to step in.

He could look still, even controlled, but there was nothing controlled about this. Nothing about him was controlled.

Mattheo looked at the dagger in his hands, his gaze drifting over the blade, but it wasn’t the dagger that had his attention. It was you. Your eyes were on him, and it felt like he was being torn apart with just that look. It wasn’t like the attention he was used to—no fear or admiration in it.

No, this was different. It was more like an assessment. The weight of your gaze was almost suffocating, as if you were digging into him, getting under his skin in a way that made him feel stupidly exposed and making him feel a strange sensation tighten in his chest, choking his throat in ways he couldn’t understand, and he hated it.

He hated how you made him feel like this—torn between wanting to get closer and wanting to run away from that. And even if it was good or bad; neither mattered. He didn’t want to know. The only thing he knew for sure was that you almost had him entirely.

And for him, that was awful enough.

He never quite understood why his heart raced when he was in your presence, as if it might break through his ribs, his flesh, and fall directly into your palms, fully out of his power. At times he couldn't help but press his hand against his own chest, trying to stop it, trying to hold it back, but it only frustrated him further.

Nevertheless, there were times when he nearly wished his heart would simply give way and land in your hands so you could do with it whatever you pleased, whether that meant crushing it entirely or holding it tenderly between your fingers. He wasn't certain which would provide him with greater comfort, but he was certain that if you gave him that satisfaction, he will never be the same again.

Mattheo sighed and shook his head rapidly, making a dramatic gesture as he attempted to avoid your concentrated, evaluating stare on him once more. He concentrated on the tiny silver dagger in his hand, trying not to hold it too firmly in his palm, but nothing could take away the sensation, and even if it didn't cause him any discomfort, the pressure that made it was obvious.

He let out another sigh, this time frustrated, rubbing his forehead, but couldn’t help releasing another, this time a relieved one, when he saw your attention shift to the two circles drawn around him, almost like some kind of illustration, and he couldn’t help but smirk knowingly as he noticed the change in your expression; at the confusion in your eyes and at your furrowed brows as you tried to make sense of the strange symbols, carefully etched inside the circles on the floor.

Mattheo looked away, quickly shifting his focus to the symbol at his feet. In comparison with the other symbols, this one was far more complex, with each line and curve being meticulous and precise. As he raised his chin in satisfaction with what he did, Mattheo couldn't help but widen his smirk into a full grin, an equal amount of pride and arrogance coming across his expression.

This ritual, this moment—it was his, only his. Yet, for some reason, he felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he was going to share it with you. Even though you were there not completely voluntarily, you still had a place in it, whether you liked it or not. 

This time, it was Mattheo who looked at you with an intense, almost predatory gaze, his hand tightening once more around the blade in his palm as he kept his eyes on you. He was already preparing to take the first step toward the power he would gain from what you two were about to do. All he needed was your final confirmation and for you to step into the middle of the circle with him.

“Are you ready for this?” His voice broke the silence, low and almost a purr, making you look up at him. Ready? Fuck no. In fact, you were terrified. Every part of you screamed to run, to get as far away from this room and this stupid ritual as possible. But your body didn’t listen to your brain. Your heart didn’t either. Instead, you stayed still, frozen, your eyes locked with his own, already filled with amusement and something darker, like a challenge. 

You knew this was stupid. Hell, it was almost suicidal. A ritual to give him more power, cutting your own hand, spilling your blood, mixing it with his just to make him stronger. It was madness. More than that, even.

But then again, a part of you wanted it. A part of you wanted to leave a piece of yourself with him, to bind yourself to him in some twisted way. And for some fucked-up reason, you craved that. You wanted to be marked by him, to have a part of you inside him forever. Mattheo had already carved his mark into your mind, into the darkest corners of your heart, and now you wanted to do the same.

Stupid curiosity.

“Well?” Mattheo asked again, his voice dripping with amusement, though you could hear the faint edge of annoyance creeping in. He tried to hold onto his usual confident, relaxed demeanor, but it was slipping. “What’s it gonna be?” The same damn question. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to make him ask a third time. 

“I…” You paused, your voice cracking, and you couldn’t help but curse yourself under your breath as you felt his gaze digging into you, waiting for the answer he wanted. “I think I’m ready,” you finally said, taking a step forward, ignoring the part of you screaming to get the hell out of there. Yet your body moved faster than your mind, and before you knew it, you took an unconscious step closer to him, making his eyebrow quirk in amusement. 

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You think?” he repeated, his voice thick with mockery. He almost laughed; if it were not for the situation you two were in.

“Fuck—” you hissed under your breath, cursing yourself again, and Mattheo’s smirk stretched wider. “I’m ready.” You corrected yourself, the words tasting wrong. “I’m ready,” you said again, this time to convince yourself more than him.

Mattheo let out a low, almost manic laugh as his gaze remained fixed on the blade in his hand. The sound sent an unexpected shiver down your spine, and your cheeks flushed as his voice echoed in your ears. When he looked back at you, his eyes were softer than before, though the usual intensity remained, as if he was offering something that, despite not being comfort, somehow left you feeling relieved in a way.

He stretched his hand towards you, his voice calmer than before but still firm. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner this thing is going to end.” The sooner he would have control. Mattheo called you again, and you let out a soft sigh before taking that first step.

Each step you took was filled with hesitation, but your body didn’t seem to care. It moved toward the circle, fighting the doubt gnawing on your mind. When you finally stepped inside, you couldn’t hold back a small sigh as your hand found Mattheo’s. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing as you saw the same smirk on his lips, the reaction causing a tug on your heart. He didn’t need to say anything; you could feel how much he enjoyed this, how much he knew the effect he had on you.

Sometimes you wanted to punch him. 

As soon as you took his hand, Mattheo’s confidence wavered slightly; his heart pounded just by your touch. However, he couldn’t hide the dark amusement in his eyes as he watched your flushed cheeks and how your body betrayed you. It was too easy.

“This,” he said, gesturing to the intricate runes carved into the floor with the tip of his dagger, his grip tightening around your hand, not to soothe you, but to remind himself you were still there. “It’s going to hurt like hell.” He said it with such ease, as if the pain and the blood were just a minor part. You swallowed hard, the confirmation of what you already knew settling deep in your stomach. “At least for you,” he added with an eyebrow raised, his voice laced with amusement.

His words weren’t reassuring at all—not that you expected them to be. He didn’t care about calming you or making this easier to bear. That wasn’t his style, and it never had been. Mattheo thrived in chaos, in mess, and he wanted you to feel every bit of it. He wanted to pull you into the madness, to push you until you struggled to keep yourself together.

“You’re not exactly helping me calm down, you know?” you said through gritted teeth, barely stopping yourself from telling him to go fuck himself. 

Mattheo chuckled dryly, releasing your hand to stop you from gripping it, from finding any comfort in his presence. “Glad to know, sweetheart.” He said casually, like it didn’t matter at all. “But who said I want you to calm down?” he murmured, and you might have thought he was joking if it weren’t for the fact that you had known him for years.

You scoffed at his lack of sympathy. It wasn’t surprising, though; his attitude was one of the things that drew you to him, even if it wasn’t exactly healthy. You watched as he lit more candles, the flame dancing with every step he took, highlighting the sharp lines of his features. He was an insensitive prick, but dear god, he was a beautiful one. 

After a few seconds, Mattheo stood up, still holding the dagger in his hand. He glanced at you, and for a brief moment, something in his gaze made his heartbeat almost thud down his ribs. He took a few steps toward you, and your eyes met. His dark eyes were intense, unreadable, and the weight of the air between you made your stomach twist. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, with a hint of mischief in his tone. The corner of his mouth twitched, the excitement creeping slowly.

“Take off your shirt.”

You blinked, shocked, and for a few seconds, all your fear vanished. “Excuse me?!”

Mattheo observed you, almost as if he were stripping you bare. “Your shirt,” he repeated, his tone annoyingly dismissive. He spun the dagger in his palm with flawless precision, taking a step closer as if your hesitancy pleased him. “Take it off,” he said almost coolly, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

You crossed your arms, feeling your heart race as your face flushed with heat. “And why, exactly, do I need to do that?” You snapped, your voice sharp. You had fantasized a thousand times about Mattheo asking you to do this, but you never imagined it would actually happen, especially not now, in this situation. 

“For the ritual,” he said simply, tilting his head and giving you a smirk that bordered on taunting, as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “I need access to your skin, sweetheart. The magic won’t work otherwise.” His words were smooth, but you couldn’t shake the feeling they held a hint of mockery.

You hesitated, studying him closely. There was something about his response that didn’t sit right, too casual in a way that felt almost taunting, like he wasn’t being completely honest. “You’re making that up,” you said flatly, letting your arms drop to your sides, your eyes narrowing as you searched on his face for a sign of truth. 

His smirk widened, and he continued to twirl the dagger between his fingers, his eyes locked on you. The sight of your flushed cheeks only seemed to make him think with his other head. “Am I?” He took another step closer. 

“Please, Mattheo, I know that’s bullshit!” you spat out, trying to ignore how his smug expression made your skin heat, though particularly of you couldn’t help but consider it.

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, stepping closer, the tension between you nearly unbearable. His voice dipped, rough and almost deliberate, as his dark eyes shamelessly trailed down your body before locking onto yours again.

“Alright,” he murmured, a smile laying wickedly on his lips. “Maybe it’s not entirely necessary. But it helps. A lot.”

The dagger moved lazily in his hand, the sharp edge skimming his palm without cutting his palm. His gaze never left you, steady and intense, like a predator watching its prey. “And we both know you want this to work out, don’t we, sweetheart?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, a truth you hated to admit even to yourself. You wanted him to notice you—really notice you—the way his gaze seemed to strip you bare, peeling back layers you didn’t even realize you had. But the sharp flare of anger clawed its way up your chest, tangling with the strange pull he always seemed to have over you, leaving you somewhere between furious and helpless.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head, the disappointment cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. You weren’t sure if it was aimed at him or at yourself for falling into this moment—this trap. Probably both. 

“And yet,” he said, taking another step toward you, “here you are.” He mocked you, making you bite your tongue to stop yourself from telling him to fuck off. 

The space between you two was basically nonexistent now, and Mattheo fucking hated it. Hated that it was him moving closer, like he couldn’t help himself. Hated how his body had a mind of its own, reacting to you in ways that made him feel like an idiot. The thought of you, without your shirt, without anything, was driving him insane, his imagination running wild no matter how much he tried to shove it down.

Fuck. He could already feel the strain in his pants, his cock pressing uncomfortably against the fabric. It pissed him off—how easily you got under his skin, how fucking hard it was to keep his cool around you. 

“Fine,” you bit out, your voice rougher than you felt, and Mattheo’s smile twisted with satisfaction, practically waiting for you to do it. You exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the way his eyes were glued to you. Your fingers lingered at the hem of your shirt, heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find the guts to go through with it. 

Mattheo’s smirk only deepened, his eyes never leaving you, and for a moment, it felt like he was inside your head, reading you like a damn book. His gaze dropped low, just enough to make your skin prickle with awareness. You seemed so fucking soft. “Need help?” he asked, voice dripping with mockery. 

“Shut up, Mattheo” you snapped, yanking the fabric over your head in one swift motion, a shiver running through your whole body. Shit, you’re not wearing a bra.

The second the shirt left your body, the air felt heavier, but you felt the coldness against your exposed skin and nipples. Mattheo’s expression shifted, his smirk slipping for a moment as his eyes scanned over you, taking in more than you were prepared to show. You cursed yourself for not wearing a bra under the thin fabric, your chest bare under the dim torchlight and his searing gaze. Mattheo swore the zipper on his pants was going to break any second.

You couldn't help but feel trapped by his piercing stare as his eyes remained on you, shamelessly tracing your hard nipples. He seemed oblivious; nonetheless, his eyes burned with need as his mind wandered, thinking about the taste of his tongue on your nipples, sucking and biting until all you could think about was the feel of his wet tongue. He held the dagger tightly, only reacting when the blade cut into his flesh.

“Well,” he began, attempting to put the thoughts flowing through his head to the back of his mind, his voice rougher than before, “guess you were more ready than we thought.” He mocked you again, but it seemed like he was also mocking himself.

You could feel your cheeks burning, a mix of anger and something else boiling inside you. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to block him out, but the moment you saw the way Mattheo’s eyes were fixed on you filled with desire, your hands fell to your sides, betraying your own brain. You wanted this. You wanted him to see you, to really see you.

But as you realized you were staring at him in the same way, you quickly shook your head, trying to push down the desire and need, force some control back into your own voice. “Just get on with it,” you ‘snapped’, trying to hide how much it stung, how much you craved that attention. 

Mattheo’s smirk returned, but this time it was sharper, full with devilment. He took another step toward you, his eyes never leaving yours, and gestured toward the circle with a lazy flick of his hand. “As you wish.”

His expression didn’t shift, his confidence simmering just below the surface as he stepped even closer to you, trying not to look at your bare chest. His eyes flickered to the symbols on the ground, their faint glow reflecting in the depths of his gaze. Without a word he reached up and tugged his shirt over his head, casting it aside without care. He didn’t look at you but still waited for your reaction. You had already drawn one from him—only fair if he returned the favor, right?

You, on the other hand, swallowed hard, your gaze shamelessly tracing the lines of his abdomen and bare, muscular chest. The candles and torchlight cast sharp shadows across the scars etched into his skin, and you held your breath without meaning to. When he glanced forward slightly, his eyes still on the ground as he did so, he had to stifle a chuckle at the sight of your clenched fists, trying to control yourself.

This was going to be fun, at least.

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke or moved. The silence stretched thin, both of you consumed by the same thoughts, the same dirty images racing through your minds. Your chests rose and fell heavily, both of you struggling to regain a normal breath. It was fucking madness. 

Mattheo quickly composed himself, standing at the point of the small symbol on the ground, making sure you mirrored his position on the opposite side. Your bare chests were almost touching, the air thick with tension, your hard nipples brushing just slightly against his skin. He gave a low sigh, words slipping from his lips in a language you couldn’t understand, his voice deep and commanding.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the symbols on the floor pulsed to life, glowing with an eerie light, while the candle flames flickered wildly, as though responding to his words. 

He looked at the dagger in his hand, a proud glint in his eyes before letting his gaze drift up to your face. His eyes lingered on your features, the softness of your eyes, the way your lips parted just enough to drive him insane. He almost couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to touch you, but he stayed still, his jaw tight. “Are you ready?” he asked, his lips moving without sound. “I am,” you mouthed back, the hesitation in your eyes impossible to miss. But he ignored it, choosing to focus on the way you stood there—no turning back now, and honestly? He didn’t want you to cover up. 

Mattheo gripped the dagger with steady hands, his brown eyes flickering briefly to the runes as if making sure everything was aligned. Without a second thought, he pressed the sharp blade to his palm, slicing through the skin with quick, practiced precision. The blood surged from the cut, dripping thick and dark onto the glowing runes below. They reacted violently, flaring brighter, more alive, as if the blood was feeding the symbols, feeding him. 

You held your breath, knowing you were next. But you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the ground, watching his blood drip onto the floor beneath both of your feet.

After a few seconds, he lifted his chin, pride in his eyes, his curls moving like the magic around the circles. He grabbed your hand without a word, pressing the dagger into your palm, his gaze never leaving yours. He was waiting, daring you to cut yourself just like he had. 

You felt his blood drip onto your wrist, the warmth of it sending a jolt through your veins. As the dagger pressed into your palm, a breath caught in your throat. The weight of the blade was more than you expected, and for a moment, your eyes lingered on the crimson stains left by Mattheo’s cut, almost hypnotic, tempting you.

Your heart quickened, your pulse echoing in your ears. You hesitated—for a moment. His eyes found you once again, a look that urged you to continue. The hesitation lingering in your heart suddenly dispersed; you wanted nothing but to mark him as yours.

With a deep breath, you pressed the blade to your palm, hissing softly as the edge cut into your skin, making you feel even more bare and open than you already did. The pain was sharp, fleeting, quickly replaced by the blood spilling down your skin, as the runes reacted violently to your action, their glow flaring in response. 

It was instantaneous. The moment your blood touched the floor, the room seemed to exhale, the light flaring brighter and the air humming with a charged, almost electric energy as the ritual began. But the reaction was brief, for Mattheo’s focus shifted.

Mattheo’s gaze was fixed on the cut on your hand, his eyes wide and unblinking, as if he was mesmerized by the crimson blood streaks trailing down your wrist, mingling with his the drops of his blood already on your skin. His jaw clenched, and you swore you saw him swallow hard as he continued to look, his chest rising and falling with a depth of intensity you’d never seen in him before. 

“Mattheo?” You called softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your heartbeat quickening against your bare chest. Yet, it was enough to break his attention.

His eyes naturally met yours once again, vulnerability flickering in his gaze, though the rest of his expression remained unreadable, like a contrast to the hunger simmering beneath. But Mattheo didn't step back. Instead, his calloused fingers brushed against the blood on your wrist, smearing it slightly. The contact sent a jolt through you, and for a moment, neither of you remembered how to breathe.

“Mattheo…” you called out again, but this time it was almost a plea for him not to stop. He obeyed your unspoken request, his fingers tracing your skin as if exploring new territory, so gently that it almost made you forget the lingering sting in your hand. 

Mattheo’s hands moved deliberately, spreading the blood from the deep cut on your hand. He seemed oblivious to the matching wound on his own skin as he dragged the crimson trail up to your neck, smearing it across your skin. Without warning, his lips pressed against the spot, his tongue tracing the blood. He let out a low groan at the taste, and you couldn’t suppress your own when you felt the warmth of his tongue against you. 

“It’s so sweet,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the skin of your neck, the crimson of your blood staining them as he pulled you closer, pressing you against him in a way that felt almost inhuman. “So fucking sweet.” His teeth continued to drag along your skin, while his hand slid down your arm, seeking more of your blood. His fingers tightened around your palm, squeezing to draw out more of the liquid, making you groan in a mix of pain and pleasure as the burn surged through you. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Mattheo whispered, biting your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin painfully. He didn’t care about the grunt of pain that escaped your lips, not when more blood joined the one already staining your throat. Right after his first bite, you moaned, your thighs rubbing together in an attempt to ease the wetness in your cunt. 

Mattheo chuckled in satisfaction, bringing his bloodied hand to your stomach, the crimson spreading across your exposed skin like a mark. “You like it, don’t you?” he murmured against your throat, pressing his lips to the marks he had left with his teeth. But when he noticed you hadn’t answered, he bit your neck harder than before and squeezed your stomach, causing more blood to spread across the area. 

You swallowed hard, locking eyes with him as you tried to form a sentence, but the only words that escaped your lips were a barely audible, “Yes, fucking yes,” which only made him laugh harder. He tightened his grip on your skin, sending a sharp sting through your own body. 

“Of course you do… such a fucking slut,” Mattheo chuckled again against your throat, his teeth sinking into the spot once more, making you moan. He mimicked the sound, feeling his pants tighten around his cock as he tasted your blood again on his teeth. His tongue throbbed with desire, savoring the metallic taste. Holy shit, he could cum just from the taste of your blood. “But you taste so damn good.” 

He seemed to have completely forgotten the ritual, and you, too, had let it slip away. You didn’t want to remember, not when his blood stained your skin, not when your own blood marked him, and not when his mark lingered on you. 

Mattheo pulled back slightly, looking at your state and the way your plush lips were parted as you stared at him, your eyes filled with the same desire he showed. 

Without warning, Mattheo grabbed your cut hand with the one resting on your stomach, his blood mingling with yours as he guided your hand to your neck, then down to your breasts, trailing the blood like a map. Before you could react to the sting of your hard nipple pressing against the cut, Mattheo moved faster, pulling your nipple—now smeared with your own blood—into his mouth. 

You let out a loud moan as you felt his tongue teasing the tips of your bloodied breasts, the taste of your blood on his tongue making him swirl around your breast more eagerly. The sensation only made him harder beneath his robes, each moan of his growing louder as he savored the taste of you. 

You were lost in the pleasure of his mouth, concentrated with the way his tongue lapped like a hungry animal. The way his hands pushed your now bloody breasts together enough for his head to dive between them as he continued to whisper praises, words of hunger. You didn’t hear nothing but the sounds of his mouth nor saw how he desperately reached for release, your body causing him to react out of character.

“Fuck...” he murmured, his hand releasing the softness of your skin as he reached down towards his pants. Fast, uncoordinated, he released his cock from the restraints, his bloody hands wrapping around his cock that dripped with precum. His movements grew faster, driven by the growing intensity of the taste of blood on his tongue.

You looked down, catching a glimpse through the small crease of his neck as he dragged his palm over his hard cock while sucking on your nipples. You couldn’t help but moan louder, your bloody hand gripping his shoulders as you tried to ignore how your body was responding—the wetness between your legs that you knew he could feel. 

“Your tits…”Mattheo moaned even louder, dragging a moan from your lips in response. Fuck, he was so close.

“Fuck, your blood tastes so fucking good.” He moaned louder, and as he sucked harder on your nipples, his mouth closing around the bud tighter. Your chest was now covered in his bites, the marks of Mattheo Riddle, almost like a sign of ownership. Your body quivered against his hold, rubbing pathetically against him as you felt the tingle flutter in your stomach. You were close, lost in the daze, you had no idea whether it was from pleasure or the lost of blood—or both. You were desperately clinging to his shoulders, his name falling from your lips like a spell.

The hold on his length tightened in his hand, and he came instantly. Another hoarse moan escaped his throat, and he pulled away from your chest for a moment, gasping for air. You gripped onto his shoulders once more, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. So sudden, so quick you fell against his hold as your body convulsed with pleasure.

Mattheo leaned against you, allowing himself a moment to relax. But when he noticed the blood still running down your throat from where he had placed your hand, he couldn’t help but let out a growl. He yanked your hair back harshly, making you gasp and exposing your throat, your scream barely escaping as he did so. 

“Mattheo…!” You tried to speak, but he didn’t care; he never did. He only pushed you further against him, your nipples pressed against his bare chest as he licked your throat, letting out another groan as he tasted the metallic flavor again. His tongue traced the line of your throat, dragging the blood up to your chin, before he licked it off obscenely, making you sigh at the sensation. 

Mattheo’s hand in your hair tightened, and in one swift motion, he turned you onto your back, pulling your hair even harder as your back arched against him. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, an order you immediately understood. You obeyed without hesitation, and before you could react, he spat into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside, kissing you deeply.

The kiss was rough and erotic, the fire burning from the inside making it impossible to avoid it. You could taste your own blood on his tongue, and it only made your cunt wetter, the intensity overwhelming. It was too much—more than you’d ever imagined.

You had pictured moments like this, where you and Mattheo would kiss, tasting each other’s tongues, but this was different. It wasn’t the fantasy you had dreamed of; it was raw, wild, and rougher than anything you could have ever anticipated. His teeth clashed with yours, and your tongue tangled with his, as he unleashed his most primal side. He was giving you a taste of the part of you he had consumed, and you were trapped, just as you always would be.

You didn’t care about the pain in your scalp, only the hand that held you.

Mattheo’s hands were rough, touching everything he could. His mouth marking you over and over as he swallowed every small noise you released. He was warm, too warm, a sting feeling in your mouth as he sucked and bit into your lips, the softness of your skin tethering as his mouth was once again filled with the sweetness of your blood.

He was about to lose his mind.

Mattheo sighed against your now split lip, “Stop me… Tell me to stop, and I will.” He wouldn’t; you both knew it.

You held him against you tighter; you were already too deep into him—all you wanted was to devour him, mark him enough to show everyone he belonged to you, only you. You wanted to inflict a pain he would never forget, a pain similar to the pain he caused you, so you did. Your hands wrapped around his neck, your mouth tracing his lips, then his cheeks, then suddenly the warmth of his neck. Mattheo gripped you hard; he made no sudden movement, anxiously awaiting your motive. You bit into his neck, sucking the flushed skin as your teeth marked him with the same strength he did to you. 

Another soft flow came into your mouth, you gasped, the metallic taste odd in your mouth but enough to send your heart thundering.

Mattheo whimpered, his dominant facade slipping as he sickly enjoyed the way you took control. You were so sweet, so delicate—you were completely the opposite. The idea he corrupted you twisted a sick, powerful thought in his brain. You were his. 

Your tongue reached towards his mouth again, finding yourself eye to eye with the man you wanted nothing more than to control. “Don’t ever stop; I need you.”

Mattheo grinned, his lips bloody, his brown eyes becoming dark as he suddenly pushed you towards the runes that glowed against your body. The symbols glowed, vibrating with the blood that dripped onto it. As he stood over you, he wished to capture the moment forever. You looked so fucking pretty.

He leaned over, his knees staining with the blood smeared against the cold tiles. His fingers moved quickly, desperately. He watched as your body spoke to him, reacting to every touch. Your breasts covered in his marks, his blood and yours on them that caused his cock to twitch violently.

He wanted more than the taste of your breasts; he wanted to taste the juices that gathered in the silk of your panties. He wanted to feel the way your cunt twitched and throbbed against his mouth, and damn, did he want nothing more than to have you fuck yourself on his tongue. The sweetest angel from Hogwarts all displayed for him, to hell with the ritual; now he just wanted to swallow you whole. 

Without warning, he hoisted your legs onto his shoulders with an almost violent urgency, a deep moan escaping his lips as he leaned closer to your wet pussy. The intoxicating scent filled his senses, making his bloodied hand tighten around your thigh, gripping it as if commanding you to choke him; a command you had no intention of disobeying.

Mattheo looked at your face, the dried blood around your parted lips, your cheeks flushed from everything he was doing to you, and your dilated pupils watching him anxiously. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, and you instantly bit your lip. Fuck, he was about to get hard again. 

“Please, I need you, Mattheo,” you begged, rubbing your hips desperately, trying to get closer to his flushed face. You needed his mouth, and he was more than willing to be a good friend and give you exactly what you wanted. 

“No need to beg like a slut, sweetheart,” he said, moving closer to your pulsing cunt, the light from the dunes making your wetness glisten even more. You held your breath as his warm breath ghosted over your slick folds. “I’m eager to give you what you want,” he murmured, leaning even closer, his nose brushing against your arousal as he took in your scent. Just as you were about to beg him to do something, his tongue was quicker—teasing, tasting, and finally giving in to the need to lick you.

Mattheo followed his instincts and hunger, his palms gripping your thighs even tighter, leaving bloodstained marks on your skin just as he had on the rest of your body. The sting of his own cut burned with the pressure, but he didn’t stop, sliding his hands to your hips as his tongue moved swiftly against your folds, savoring and memorizing every inch of you.

You could feel Mattheo’s cheeks pressed against your thighs as he buried himself in your pussy, suffocating himself in your scent and taste. He mentally begged some higher power to let him one day die like this—only after his hunger was completely satisfied. Your back arched, heat swirling in your stomach as Mattheo licked your pussy with reckless desperation.

He was ravenous, savoring every part of you, and when your nails dug into his scalp, he let out another growl, pushing himself even deeper between your legs, making you moan even louder.

“Fucking yes, sweetheart,” he murmured against your pussy, sucking harder as your cries of pleasure filled the room. “Keep moaning like a slut, keep saying my name.” He bit down on your flesh, making you moan even louder, your legs trembling around him. He chuckled darkly, the vibrations of his laughter sending shocks through your body and making you cry out even more.

Fuck the ritual, fuck the power—the only power he craved was the power he held over you.

“Mattheo,” you moaned even louder, rocking your hips against his face as your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him closer. “Right there, oh my—!” you cried out, feeling him lose himself between your legs, consumed by his thoughts and the blood still staining his lips.

Mattheo’s fast, steady movements continued, his almost feral tongue lapping at your cunt as his hands roamed your body. He could feel his cock harden at the sound of your sweet moans. Fuck, the taste of your blood mingled with your arousal was divine—almost too much for him to bear. 

He continued kissing your clit, desperate to savor your full taste, his tongue messily exploring your folds, drinking in every drop he could. All you felt in the moment was him. The sounds muffled as if underwater. Your fingers dug into his scalp, causing him to flick his tongue against your bud faster, his fingers circling it, his grin plastered with pride as he heard you cry loudly.

“Such a pretty one you are,” he muttered, his words slurring into the juices of your cunt.

You only released a jumble of words, your bare back arching as you squirmed beneath him. You were on the edge, and you could feel it—both of you could. The anticipation was electric, and you were both eager for the release. All he wanted was to make you cum.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured against your folds, the scent of your cunt making him dizzy. “Come for me.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than you let out a final scream, the orgasm hitting you hard as your body arched, feeling your cum dripping from your pussy.

Mattheo groaned against your cunt once more, lapping at your release as he lost himself in your flavor. Quickly, he grabbed your cut hand, spreading its blood over your pussy to mix with the cum. When he felt it was enough, he ran his tongue over your folds, savoring the metallic taste of blood combined with the sweet remnants of your orgasm, only stopping when not a drop remained, and you pushed him away.

The runes still flickered on the ground, glowing brighter with the smell of your release in the air. Blood stained both your bodies, marking each other, marking the new connection between you that neither of you wanted to escape. Mattheo stood there, watching you, his brown eyes observing, shining with pride watching your state. His eyes traced the blood on your skin, lingering on the cut on your hand, before meeting your eyes again. 

“We didn’t finish the ritual,” you managed to say, your voice soft, timid once again compared to the wildness you held as you let Mattheo control you, your body still shaking from one of the best orgasms you ever experienced.

Mattheo’s smirk grew, just a little as he continued to look at the mess he had done. “It’s fine, sweetheart. We can always try again.”

He was right; after all, friends helped each other.

© 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚝₂₀₂₄ — 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎.

— please be nice, it’s 4 am it probably has some mistakes!

likes and reblogs are appreciated 🫶🏻

also a big thank you for my favorite beta readers @earth4angels & @astrxq , without them i couldn’t write all this!! i love you both off you forever

venting: sometimes, i hate english because my hard lines in portuguese don’t make sense and seem so repetitive :(

[ellecdc]

Hey! I've recently joined tumblr and I'm obsessed with your poly!Marauders×fem!reader fics. They're so so sweet and it just heals something in me. I'm not entirely sure if you're taking any requests at the moment so if you aren't, please feel free to ignore this completely.

Um, i was wondering if you could write about the reader being pregnant and having a scare in the middle of her pregnancy that has them all worried about her and the baby(s? As you wish again) so they rush her to the hospital and their anxiety and relief and how they handle the situation would be sweet to see i feel.

I love me some angst before a happy ending, so feel free to make this as angsty as you wish, I would be more than happy to just have the opportunity to read your work on my prompt.

Thanks for reading, again no pressure to write this if you're uncomfy.

<3

so glad you've enjoyed my works! thanks for your request <3

poly!marauders x afab!reader who has a scare during her pregnancy [2k words]

CW: fem!reader, pregnancy fic, I'm not a doctor nor have I ever been pregnant myself so this is likely not entirely realistic - my apologies for any inaccuracies, reader notices bleeding about halfway through her pregnancy, first pregnancy so they're all very nervous and tense, hurt/comfort, everyone's fine

Your silence was perhaps the most concerning part in Sirius’ mind. 

You were slightly hysterical when you first called to the boys from the bathroom; your voice a few octaves higher and breathing somewhat erratically as you explained that you were spotting. 

Remus, ever the fixer, immediately went into diagnostic mode. Sirius wondered if that hadn’t ultimately contributed to some of your anxiety. How much blood? From where? Was it in your urine or external? Could he see? 

You seemed torn between being mortified that he wanted to see your pink tinged urine and horrified that you’d flushed before he had a chance to inspect it for you.

“That’s alright; hey, it’s okay dove. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He had assured you. You didn’t seem convinced. 

James insisted he carry you to the bedroom, and it was a testament to how freaked out you were that you actually let him, even though the edge of your shared bed was a mere 15 steps from the bathroom. 

James had you tucked into his side as he rubbed soothing stripes up and down your arms, a concerned divot making itself home between his brows as he volleyed questions back and forth with Remus who was quickly making some quick searches on his phone and you stared unseeingly at the carpeted floor. 

Sirius, ever the useless sod, stood with his arms crossed, gnawing on the skin surrounding the nail on his thumb as he kept his worried gaze locked on the side of your face. 

When he got off the phone with your obstetrician, Remus eventually suggested  - in his most calm, authoritative voice - that they take you to A&E. 

You haven’t said anything since. 

Sirius packed you a bag - just in case you needed to be admitted for an extended period of time - whilst James and Remus helped you put on your jacket and shoes before helping you into the car. Again, Sirius knew just how freaked out you were that you even let them fuss over you as such; the fact didn’t seem to be lost on Remus or James either, who shared a concerned glance over your head as James fastened your buckle and Remus shut your door. 

Sirius’ gaze kept darting to the rearview mirror where he could see James’ eyes on you as you kept your own gaze pointed out the window, watching the passing cars as you chewed on the quickly nearing raw skin of your lips. 

“Still feeling okay, dove?” Remus asked, feigning repose. You offered him a hum of quasi-confirmation. 

“We’ll get you all sorted out, angel. You’ve nothing to worry about, okay?” James assured you, clearly going for light and breezy, though his facade fell quickly when a breathy sob escaped you.

“Are you okay, dove?” Remus urged, turning nearly dangerously in his seat to face you. “Does anything hurt? Do you need us to pull over?”

“Remus…” Sirius warned, darting a nervous look to you and James in the rearview mirror.

“Can we just…stop talking? Please?” You begged, sounding so small as you hid behind your hands and rubbed harshly at the tears in your eyes. 

Remus and James both looked as though they wanted to argue the matter, but Sirius quickly agreed. “Of course, gorgeous. We’re almost there.”

Sirius could feel Remus’ helpless gaze settle onto the side of his face, and he casually reached over the console to place his hand on Remus’ thigh as he often did when Sirius drove, though this time he offered his knee a comforting squeeze. 

Remus let out a shuddering breath, and Sirius simply hoped you couldn’t hear it over the thundering of your pulse in your ears. 

He stole one more look at James and exchanged a sad smile with him before returning his attention to the road. 

The admission process passed by in a blur. Sirius sat in a chair with you as Remus spoke to the intake nurse and James paced nervously a few steps behind him. 

Sirius had no words to offer, but you had also been clear about the fact that you didn’t want any, so he simply held you tight and tried to infuse as much strength and love as he could through every point of contact his body made with yours, and prayed that it’d be enough. 

“So, Miss. L/N, this is your first pregnancy?” The doctor asked you as she looked down at the notes in your chart.

You cleared your throat before answering her. “That’s right.” 

“How far along are you?” 

“Twenty weeks.” You offered meekly, shooting a nervous look to Sirius who hoped his encouraging smile translated properly. “And two days.”

The doctor smiled at that. “Half way through. That’s great.” 

Though James tried to smile back, no one else in the room could bring themselves to share in the excitement. 

“So it says here you noticed some spotting. When did that start?”

“Just today,” you responded quickly, “it wasn’t…a lot. Sort of like…like the first day of a period, I suppose? Except…lighter in colour. I don’t know, I’m sorry, I’m not explaining this very well.” 

Sirius itched to reach out for your hand as you started to sound slightly panicked, but fought the urge. Remus hadn’t fought the urge; his hand was promptly shaken off of your form.

“No, that’s perfect. That was going to be my next question; how you would relate it to your cycle.” The doctor assured you. Sirius’ shoulders relaxed when he noticed you take a breath of relief, too. 

“Have there been any other concerns as of late? Any falls, any pain, any cramping?” 

You shook your head no at all of them.

“Okay, let’s take a look then, shall we?” She asked, and Remus supported you as you shuffled towards the head of the bed, this time without pushing him away. 

Sirius didn’t think it was possible to feel more anxious than he did that very first ultrasound after the two pink lines told the four of you that you were pregnant, but he wondered if maybe he couldn’t also ask for one of those plastic bucket things as he felt bile rising in his throat whilst waiting for the doctor to spread some of the gel onto your stomach and press the wand-like camera to the space just above your pelvis. 

It seemed as though the four of you were holding your breath as the doctor moved the camera around and you all tried to follow along with the images even though you really had no idea what you were looking at. 

And then Sirius saw it; a flutter.

“Well, you’re doing a wonderful job, mama.” The doctor said as she turned the monitor further to ensure you could see properly. “Your little one has a strong heartbeat, and they’re very active right now, can you feel them?” 

“Uhm,” You let out with a breathless chuckle, quickly bringing one of your hands up to rub at the tears quickly cascading down your face, “I’m not really sure. Maybe? But I thought maybe it was just nerves or butterflies.”

The doctor laughed in response with a nod of her head. “Yes, that’s often what people think of it as at first; butterflies or even like you’ve just had a fizzy drink.” 

You laughed in agreement, nerves still colouring your breathing as you kept your eyes glued to the monitor. 

Sirius was astounded by the fact that the baby looked so…human. The first few ultrasounds looked like an arbitrary blob that someone who had never seen a human before had a human described to them and then drew it based off of that description. But this…

He could see a neck, and a nose, and hands with little fingers, and the fluttering of a heartbeat he was so worried the bunch of you wouldn’t see. 

He felt a small cold spot on his chest, and when he looked down he realised he’d been crying. 

“Bleeding can sometimes happen during pregnancy; sometimes it’s as simple as hormonal changes or changes to your cervix, but it is always a good idea to get it checked with your healthcare provider.”

“We had spoken with her obstetrician prior to bringing her in.” Remus explained. “He suggested we bring her in just to be on the safe side.”

The doctor nodded in agreement before turning her attention back to her patient. “I’m glad you came in today, Miss. L/N. Your obstetrician probably wanted you to get looked at swiftly seeing as this was your first pregnancy and he didn’t want you to wait the weekend to get looked at. But this is a healthy baby and you’re clearly doing a wonderful job.”

You quickly covered your face as you began to cry in earnest, and Sirius couldn’t help it anymore. 

He perched himself on the edge of your bed and pulled you into his side as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re okay, doll. You’ve done great; you’re doing great.” 

“I thought I was losing them.” You keened, small bump twitching in surprise when James made to wipe the gel off of your stomach. 

“I know, my love.” He assured you, watching Remus approach the bed once the doctor closed the door behind her. “I know, that was really scary.”

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled. 

“What are you sorry for, angel?” James asked, having since tossed the used paper towels as he took both of your hands in his. Remus clearly found that wholly unfair and quickly stole one of your hands to hold between both of his. 

“I don’t know…for scaring you all, for worrying you. For maybe hurting the-”

“That’s quite enough.” Sirius chided as he pulled you further into his side, glaring at James who looked like he, too, sort of wanted to squish you into his side. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing at all.” 

“Pregnancy is not easy, dove. Even if something had happened, it would have in no way been your fault. Okay?” Remus insisted, bending in an attempt to make eye contact with you when you refused to answer. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes.” You nearly wheezed, burrowing further into Sirius’ side; he let you. “Yes, I hear you.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Remus relented, lifting your hand that he had in his to press a kiss to your knuckles. “I’m so glad that you’re both okay.”

“How do you feel about a bath, angel?” James asked then, quickly agreeing when Remus warned ‘not too hot’. “Maybe we could order some takeaway too? What are you feeling? We could pick up anything you want on our way home. If it’s not on our way home, I’ll drop you off and go get it myself. Would you like that?”

“James, how would you feel about a bath and ordering takeaway?” Sirius teased, eliciting a chuckle - albeit a wet one - from you under his shoulder. 

“Oh, I would love that.” James agreed readily, taking your hand that Remus relinquished in favour of packing your things back up and retrieving your shoes and jacket. 

“What do you think, doll? Think you feel up to joining Jamie in a warm bath with some take away?”

You pursed your lips as though considering it before rolling your eyes in faux concession. “Fine, I think I can manage.”

“My perfect girl.” James cheered, pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, angel. I know that was a big ask.”

“Trying to get James to sit still for an extended period of time?” Remus asked as he held your jacket open for you, smoothing it over your shoulders as James and Sirius both put their own on too. “That really is a big ask.”

Sirius offered James a smile and a wink before taking his hand, thankful that James was more than willing to be the butt of the joke if it meant releasing some of the residual anxiety from your form by means of giggles.

Though Sirius knew that if James couldn’t bring himself to sit still for an extended period of time, especially after the scare you all had today, you had two more-than-willing partners who would quickly offer to take his place.

[zarvasace]

Okay okay that shatterproof modern au is so much fun I'm gonna mark down what everyone does here because I didn't want to let the authors notes get too long and I couldn't include every detail in the fic itself—

Time and Malon run Lon Lon Ranch, which is mostly a cattle ranch with some horses. They're working on getting everything set up to do some fostering (for humans, to be clear) in the future. The ranch is a successful business and exports mostly milk products to local stores, though they also have an orchard and do apples and pumpkins in the fall! Lullaby is a local politician, think state-level congress.

Hyrule lives on the ranch while going to school to become a physician. He's not related to them, but he is related to Malon's cousin's friend or something like that. He isn't allowed to help with the dishes due to Incidents in the past. He likes taking walks around the ranch and talking to the cows while he studies. He spends a lot of time with Legend, whose family is actually sponsoring Hyrule in school. Dawn is in a lot of his classes, and Aurora is her sister in a business program. The three or four of them hang out at the university a lot.

Wild also lives on the ranch, not currently going to school. He works there, and also does a lot of volunteering at the local food bank. He's learned to cook a lot of authentic food from all around the world from rubbing shoulders with people there. He doesn't talk a lot about his past, but Time and Malon know that Wild's parents sucked and that he's pretty much no-contact with them. He's rebuilding his savings after draining it all (plus more) on medical bills for his heart condition. He's pretty happy where he is, and looks forward to the day when Time and Malon get a foster kid or two. Flora's a childhood friend, doing a second PhD of her own right now.

Twilight works at the ranch with the animals, and takes a shift at a vet office every so often. He helps Hyrule study, since he finished out his degree in veterinary science a while ago. He's torn between getting a more serious veterinary job, going into medical research, and staying at the ranch full-time. He's accidentally made some really good connections in Midna and Dusk, who are both in high society (though Midna doesn't always act like it!)

Four is Twilight's younger brother (Twi was adopted as a young kid, so he remembers Four being a baby), and the two of them rent out a wheelchair-accessible apartment. Their hometown is a few hours away, but they always find time to go for important holidays. Four works at a garage in town and ends up servicing a lot of heavy machinery. He wants to get into doing some more craftsman-type work, but is having a hard time finding a place to experiment with it. He's working on saving up for some art/sculpture classes at a university, but has been really distracted with his job recently. He met Dot and Shadow through a trauma survivor's group, and right now they all go out for lunch every so often.

Warriors actually has a hard time with jobs and such. His steadiest gig right now is helping out at a large local martial arts studio, where he helps to train and spar against the advanced students. He wouldn't mind helping out the kids, but the fact that most of them don't know sign language is a barrier. He's drifted around several office jobs, but he's really just not one to sit down and do one thing all day. He keeps advancing at the summer camp they all go to, however, and that takes up more and more of his time, so he's not really all that worried about getting a more "normal" job. Impa runs the martial arts studio and Artemis is one of the head instructors, and he's good friends with both of them.

Wind is Warriors's younger brother, and the two of them live in the same apartment building as Twilight and Four. He's doing the college thing, at the same location as Hyrule, but Wind prefers online classes. He's part of the swim team, though, and likes going out to the lake when he can. (Tetra is another member of the swim team!) Wind has changed his major like six times, and works part-time at a smoothie shop. He likes playing video games.

Legend has also done a ridiculous variety of things, but right now he works at a very fancy restaurant doing mixed drinks, and actually managed to find a competition for it that he won some awards for. In conversation, he'll often reference other jobs or roles he's had but nobody knows the whole list. (He's referenced delivery driving, movie sets, an engineering firm, an insurance broker, a high-end jewelry store, a cruise ship, and several other things.) He comes from a rather wealthy family but his parents passed and he doesn't have a lot of contact with extended family. He writes out money to a lot of people under the guise of various organizations his family technically owns, and that includes helping Hyrule through medical school. Fable is his sister and way more involved in high society stuff, but she forces him to come to some of it sometimes.

Sky lives with his girlfriend in an apartment in the city. He spends most of his time doing translation work for the government, things like driver's license forms and ballot instructions (he works well with several different written languages). He does interpreting too when he needs to, and has another small job on the side at a natural history museum leading sign language tours.

And all of them go to camp! Sky and Warriors are both assistant directors, Time drives the supply truck, Wind does the sailing and swimming instruction, Hyrule the first aid guy, and most of the rest of them are part-time or full-time counselors during the summer. It's fun. :)

[rayofmisfortune]

Hey- *leans over* a little of a guilty pleasure of mine, I love seeing my favorite characters suffer. Just absolutely be tormented both mentally and physically. Bonus points if they start to hate themselves and believe the lies fed to them day in and day out by their tormentor and feel like they are deserving of the pain.

[noxtivagus]

i've been less shy lately so damn i realized how. idk how to say it. wait

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Try Me

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: suggestive

"Lan, c'mon..please don't go." You whined tightening your grip on Lando's shirt. "Stay with me"

"Baby, I want to, believe me, I do, but I told you I promised your brother to go out with him tonight. Why don't you come along with us?" He asked holding your cheeks between his hands and leaving a kiss on the tip of your nose.

"Because I want to spend some time alone with you. Why can't he go out with Charles or anyone else?"

"Charles is not feeling well, and besides, it will be suspicious if I turn him down for the second time today." He explained trying to get some sense into you, but you just decided to be a brat today because, well, you just felt like it. You wanted his attention. You needed his attention.

"Fine. Go with him then. I don't care." You pouted crossing your arms and turning your gaze away from him.

"Y/n.." He sighed turning your chin with his finger making you look at him. "I'm trying my best to spend as much time as possible with you here. If Carlos knew I spent the whole day with his sister in her hotel room I'd probably be a dead man right now. So if you want me alive, you gotta let me go now okay?"

Everything Lando said made sense. It's true that Carlos would haunt Lando for the rest of his life if he knew that he had been seeing his 5 years younger sister for over 6 months now. It's also true that Lando is a bit torn between the two of you. He doesn't want any trouble with his best friend, but he also doesn't want to even think about having to stop seeing you.

Lando and you were not in a relationship, well, not officially, you didn't call it a relationship because you were forbidden to him. You had been seeing each other for half a year and both of you knew that there was something more between you, more than just sex although you never put a label on it. The more time passed the more you liked each other and wanted to spend more time together so it got harder to keep it a secret.

"Give me a kiss" He said leaning down to your lips. You hesitate for a second, but give in rolling your eyes which Lando doesn't take very well. "No, no, don't do that."

You ignore him and head towards the bathroom not wanting to wait until he leaves your room. You just wanted to show your dissatisfaction with all your might.

"I'll talk to you later okay?"

"Whatever" You muttered before slamming the bathroom door shut.

Later that night, Lando was texting you just to check up on you, to see what you're doing, to see how you're spending your time without him and you decided to continue being a brat for the rest of the night. Because you just felt like it today.

'Just took a shower. Think I'm gonna go check up on Charles since he's not feeling well'

You replied smirking knowing that you mentioning Charles would completely push his buttons with you tonight. Ever since Carlos introduced you to them, both Charles and Lando have been trying to flirt with you. Only Charles has been doing it directly and Lando was more subtle with it. Lando was always more mysterious about it, that's probably the reason why you were attracted to him and not Charles.

So ever since he got his eyes on you, he hated that Charles was trying to get your attention. He hated that he was still doing it and yet he couldn't do anything about it because you two were a well kept secret.

'Oh really? Carlos and I saw him. He's just fine so you don't have to do that.'

He was replying back to your messages within seconds. You knew he was going crazy about it.

'Well, I'm gonna go check anyway'

Of course you weren't gonna go. You were all ready for bed, but since you didn't get what you wanted tonight, you decided to play with his head a little.

'Y/n..You have nothing to look for in his room'

'I mean it's not like I have a boyfriend if you really think about it. So..I don't think it would be inappropriate, no? '

'I can hear the attitude through the text. Fix it, before I fuck it out of you.'

His text sent shivers through your body. You threw your head back against your pillow sighing and reminiscing the way this morning the bed was squeaking beneath you two.

'I don't think you're gonna do anything about it'

'Oh, try me then'

[harrysfolklore]

omg i have a question for the bitchy carlos fic -

so nicole piastri came on red flags podcast recently and spoke about oscar and his childhood, what if there’s an au segment of her talking about older piastri & what would his reaction be

okay this turned out being way longer than intended bc i added the scene of carlos and nicole meeting bc why not, i hope i'm not annoying you with too much little bitch content, i'll promise i'll post for other drivers now READ LITTLE BITCH HERE

Host: "So, Nicole, we've heard a lot about Oscar's journey to F1, but what can you tell us about his relationship with his sister, YN? She has quite the personality online, doesn't she? Can you tell us about their relationship growing up?

Nicole:"Oh, those two. They've always had such a special bond. YN is a few years older than Oscar and yes, she's known as the Piastri who fights people online, but she's always been fiercely protective of him. From the moment YN first held Oscar as a baby, she appointed herself his protector. It was adorable and sometimes a bit much, but always came from a place of love.

Host: Can you give us an example?

Nicole: "When Oscar was about six and YN was maybe nine. Oscar had just started school and was having trouble making friends. He was quite shy back then, if you can believe it. One day, YN overheard some kids teasing Oscar in the playground."

Host: "Oh no, what happened?"

Nicole: "Well, YN marched right up to those boys and she told them off in no uncertain terms. She said, and I quote, 'My brother is going to be a famous race car driver one day, and you'll all be asking for his autograph. So you'd better be nice to him now!' The boys were so shocked they just stood there with their mouths open."

Host:"That's amazing! Did it help Oscar?"

Nicole: "It did, actually. Oscar was so impressed by his big sister standing up for him that it gave him a confidence boost. And you know what? Some of those boys ended up becoming his good friends. They still joke about YN's 'prophecy' coming true now that Oscar's in F1."

Host: "That's such a heartwarming story! It's clear YN has always been protective of Oscar. Now, speaking of relationships, we've heard that YN is dating Carlos Sainz. Can you tell us a bit about how that came to be?"

Nicole: "Oh, that's an interesting story! YN actually told us she was dating Carlos a while back, but we weren't surprised at all. We knew she liked him since that time in Singapore last year when our family visited. YN was trying so hard to act mad about Carlos' win, but it was obvious she was impressed."

Host: "So you had suspicions before they even got together?"

Nicole: "Absolutely! Even before that Singapore trip, YN used to go on these multiple rants about, in her words, 'this arrogant Spaniard' who kept pushing Oscar off track. She called him something I won't repeat but I'm pretty sure everyone knows it, it absolutely irritated her. But you know what? We all knew that deep down, she had a crush on him."

Host: "That's quite the turnaround! Have you met Carlos — as YN’s partner this time — yet?"

Nicole: "I haven’t, actually. I’m hoping to do that in Baku after the summer break. But I can see Carlos brings out a softer side of YN that we don't often see in public. Don't get me wrong, she's still fiercely stubborn and outspoken, but with Carlos, there's this gentleness that comes out. He seems to really understand and appreciate her passion, and he's not intimidated by her strong personality at all. In fact, he seems to admire it."

Host: "It sounds like they complement each other well. How has Oscar taken to their relationship?"

Nicole: "Oscar's been very supportive. I think he appreciates seeing his sister happy, and of course, it doesn't hurt that Carlos is someone he respects on the track. It's actually quite funny to see YN now, cheering for both Oscar and Carlos during races. She's always torn between wanting Oscar to win and not wanting Carlos to lose."

Host: "That's nice, Carlos sounds like quite the gentleman. Has YN picked up any Spanish since they started dating?"

Nicole: "Oh, that's actually a funny story. We love to tease YN about this. You see, she failed Spanish in high school - couldn't conjugate a verb to save her life. And now here she is, dating a Spaniard! Carlos has been trying to teach her, but let's just say it's a work in progress. She can now order a beer and ask where the bathroom is, so I suppose that's progress!"

Host: "That's hilarious! I'm sure she'll be fluent in no time."

Nicole: "Bless her, she's really trying. She's determined to have a full conversation with Carlos' parents in Spanish by the end of the year. We'll see how that goes!"

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 498,646 others

ynpiastri our queen is here !! and no one is ready

tagged: nicolepiastri

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username1 NICOLE PIASTRI IS THE MOMENT

username2 SLAY THE HOUSE BOOTS DOWN

mclaren Icon 🧡

lilyzneimer the besttttt 💓

username3 IS SHE MEETING CARLOS ??

username4 oh i can’t wait to see our queen giving carlos a run for his money again

landonorris Coolest ever

↳ ynpiastri her favorite will always be yuki don’t even try it

↳ username1 HEEEELP

yukitsunoda5511 Nicole is brat

↳ username2 I LOVE THEM 😭

oscarpiastri I’m ready, your boyfriend however…

↳ username3 LOOOOORDDD

↳ username1 POOR CARLOS

↳ ynpiastri leave him alone 😤😤

Baku had a special energy during race weekends. The tight streets and high-pressure atmosphere gave you a mixture of excitement and nerves, but today, the butterflies in your stomach had nothing to do with the Grand Prix. Instead, it was about the lunch you were about to have, where Carlos would meet your mom—officially, as your boyfriend this time.

You walked through the paddock with Carlos by your side, his hand wrapped around yours. Oscar was a few steps ahead, casually walking toward the hospitality area where no other than Nicole Piastri waited. She had met Carlos briefly before, like many of the other drivers, but this was different. He wasn’t just a name on the grid anymore—he was the man you were dating, and Carlos seemed to be nervous about the meeting.

"You think she likes me?" Carlos adjusted his hat for what felt like the hundredth time, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"Carlos, she’s going to love you," you couldn’t help but smile at his nerves, "She already does. But, you know... as a mum, she's entitled to give you a little hard time."

"That’s what I’m worried about," Carlos chuckled, but his smile was still tight, "I just want to make a good impression, you know?"

"You will," you assured him, squeezing his hand. "Just be yourself."

Oscar slowed down, overhearing your conversation and grinning like he already knew how this would play out. "Mum’s gonna grill you, mate," he teased, throwing a glance back at Carlos. "She’s been waiting for this."

"Not helping, Oscar," you muttered, giving your brother a playful shove. He just smirked, clearly enjoying himself.

When you finally reached the hospitality tent, your mom was already seated at a table, smiling warmly as she saw you all approach. She stood up to greet you, wrapping you in a familiar hug before turning to Carlos with that same welcoming smile—though you knew there was a glint of mischief behind it.

“Carlos, it’s so good to see you again,” she greeted, shaking his hand.

"It’s great to see you too, Mrs. Piastri," Carlos said, his polite smile fixed on his face. His Spanish charm was dialed up a notch, but you could still feel the slight tension in his grip as he held your hand.

“Please, call me Nicole,” she said, taking her seat again. “I’m not that formal, especially not with my daughter’s boyfriend.”

As you all settled into your seats, you couldn't help but notice the amused glances Oscar and your mom were exchanging. You knew that look—they were up to something.

"So," Nicole began, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "how long have you two been together again?"

You glanced at Carlos, who seemed to relax a bit as he answered, "About two months officially, right, cariño?"

You nodded, but before you could add anything, your mom raised an eyebrow. "And unofficially?"

"Mum!" you said as you felt your cheeks heat up.

Oscar, who had taken a seat across from you, let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the show. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching the dynamic unfold.

"That’s what I thought," she teased, making Oscar let out a loud laugh.

You felt your face grow even hotter as your mom's implications hung in the air. Carlos, to his credit, managed to maintain his composure, though you noticed a slight redness creeping up his neck.

"Well," Carlos cleared his throat, his accent a bit thicker than usual, "I think it's safe to say we've known each other for quite some time now."

"Oh, I remember. You two weren't exactly friendly at first, were you?"

"That's putting it mildly, Mum," Oscar snorted, "Remember the time she came home absolutely fuming after a race? She was ranting about 'that little bi—'"

"Oscar!" you cut him off, "We don't need to relive that."

Carlos squeezed your hand under the table, clearly amused. "No, please, I'd love to hear about this."

"Oh mate, you should've heard her," Oscar spoke again, "'Carlos this, Carlos that.' I swear, she talked about you more when she hated you than she does now."

"I did not!" you protested, but your brother's knowing smirk told you he wasn't buying it.

"It's true," your mum added, her eyes dancing with laughter. "I remember thinking, 'This girl protests too much.' I had a feeling even then that all that anger was hiding something else."

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. "I can't believe this is happening."

Carlos wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "It's okay, hermosa. I love to hear these stories."

You looked up at him, seeing the warmth in his eyes. It was hard to believe that those same eyes had once glared at you across the paddock.

Nicole smiled, watching the two of you with that familiar mom look—part teasing, part proud. "Well, now look at you. I guess all that bickering was just a cover-up for how much you liked each other."

"You’ve gone soft," Oscar rolled his eyes dramatically. "I kinda miss the days when you’d call each other names."

"Don’t worry," you muttered, giving Carlos a playful glare. "He’s still a little bitch sometimes."

Carlos laughed, his arm tightening around you as he kissed the top of your head. "And you’re still my favorite enemy turned girlfriend."

Your mom let out a satisfied sigh, leaning back in her chair. "I knew it all along."

[moongothic]

Crocodad AU where immidiately after having left Dragon and his baby boy Crocodile finds an 11 year old Robin. And while he's 100% only recruiting her so they can make a beeline for the Poneglyph and Pluton in Alabasta by the two of them... Crocodile accidentally sorta kinda adopts Robin.

At this point Robin's been running for her life from the Government for three years so her deep trust issues and fear of betrayal are starting to take root in her little heart. Like perhaps they haven't taken fully over yet, and being still a child I'm sure Robin might've still had that genuine hope that she could find a safe place to stay in. But I'm sure the though of "what'll he'll do with me once he gets what he wants?" would be nagging at her at the back of her mind. Meanwhile Crocodile's struggling between the pain and hurt he's already gone through and given him his trademark trust issues, as well as the aftermath of The Dragodile Divorce. But he also has his Fresh Paternal Instincts and probably misses his baby. So when given a small, scared child who is running for her life, being chased by the very same Government that'll want his son dead if they ever find out about him... Yeah that might fuck with your brain a little

You know this post was supposed to be just that first paragraph and just a few footnotes from the following two paragraphs. And then I kept on Having Thoughts. And I kept on writing them down. And oh no what happened when did this post get so long (Look I was going to either kept on writing my Additional Thoughts in the tags or I just put them in the actual fucking post)

Like considder this: based on this one SBS, we can kinda tell that if Crocodile was given a chance to raise a child, that child would be a spoiled little shit, right

So in this scenario, where Crocodile's looking after lil Robin, would he be kind of torn? Unsure how to feel about her?

Because on one hand, this strange child would have the potential to not only ruin his plans, strip him of his Shichibukai Privileges by outing him and his plans to the World Government, but also put his son in grave danger by extension (if she found out about him having been involved with the Revolutionaries and/or having a child). But on the other hand, his paternal instincts could make him want to spoil this poor little girl rotten. But only because he needs to (perhaps literally) buy her trust so she'll behave. No other reason, he doesn't feel sorry for her one bit, no sirree. (But maybe he did feel sorry for her, since his son could very well end up exactly like her. Poor little thing) (Which is why he needs to nuke Marijoa out of orbit as soon as possible, no matter the cost, and this child can't get in the way of Crocodile protecting his son) (But also this is a child. Like how bad could she be. Besides all he really needs to do to win her trust is be nice and make her feel safe, right?)

Of course, while I'm suggesting Crocodile could have some parental instincts, realistically, he hasn't actually spent any time being, you know, a father to a child (looking after his newborn for an unknown though short amount of time aside), so it's possible he wouldn't even know how to parent Robin even if he wanted to, would he? (Like taking care of a newborn and an 11 year old kid aren't the same either) So if he was kind of just emotionally flipflopping between No Trusting Ever and It's Just A Kid for God's Sake, Crocodile trying to be nice to Robin to make her feel safe and then telling himself to stop being so soft and vunerable... Yeah that would make for an absolute mess of a relationship. (Not to mention, let's be real, dude's a scary motherfucker too, and a bloody giant compared to itty bitty baby Robin. He could keep on accidentally scaring the shit out of Robin (who would be On Fucking Edge To Begin With) by just Being Himself. Like for example, can you fucking imagine if he caught Robin trying to cheer herself up with a little "dereshishishi" only to tell her to stop because "it was stupid"? 'Cause I can imagine him doing that, and boy howdy would that make Robin feel bad)

Or who knows, maybe Crocodile was just Born To Be A Dad, maybe he just Fucking Gets It. Like Crocodile is canonically pretty good at manipulating people to do what he wants them to do (see: how he played Vivi like a fiddle), so knowing Robin's position and understanding how she feels, maybe he COULD completely nail how she needed to be treated. Not being too familiar but still making her feel safe and happy, knowing exactly when to be stern and when to spoil her, etc. Dude just goes off and wins the Dad of the Year Award while being a deadbeat dad himself. The only thing Crocodile would have to worry about then would be making sure HE doesn't get too fond of her. And certainly that could never happen, he's so in-touch with his own feelings and so grounded, he's not a softie, get outta here. Or maybe he does but never realizes until it's too late and good luck backpedalling on those emotions now dumbass

Alright so, the reason I went on that whole rmble is just that like. I'm so interested in the relationship Robin and Crocodile already have in canon. I'm so facinated and curious about how the two feel about each other, considdering they did spend 4 whole years of their lives together as criminal business partners, though neither ever trusted the other. A partnership that was only ended because Robin betrayed Crocodile, out of her own trauma. (God, I want to see these two "reunite" so bad, I want to know how they feel about each other now after the timeskip and Robin joining the idiot in flipflops who foiled Croc's plans)

My question here is just that... if they had met 13 years earlier, would things have been different? Especially if Crocodad Real? Because as I mentioned in the begining, Robin would've been on the run for only 3 years by this point, as opposed to 16 years before running into Crocodile. Simultaneously, this would be before Crocodile went onto spend an entire decade all alone, slowly losing his marbles in his emotional solitude. They'd both be emotionally traumatized, yes, but would it have been as bad in this scenario? Like I did start this post kind of joking about Crocodile adopting Robin, and for clarity's sake I don't think they'd have like a father-daughter relationship nececarily. But it would be a strange relationship still, because we'd have two broken people, both struggling to trust anyone. One who had lost her mother and her only friends, leaving her all alone and afraid while running for her life. The other a father who had just given up his son whom he probably missed dearly. Both having these holes in their hearts from loss of family, holes that could not be filled with replacements. But could they find comfort in each other anyway, because they still as people occupy similar roles to their respective loved ones? If they both could just get over those trust issues?

Okay I've been going off on the Emotional Side Of Things for this AU Concept, THERE'S PLOT TOO

So if Crocodile did pick Robin up like 19 years ago, that should be before he set up base in Alabasta, long before he had built is homebase and financial empire etc.

Now the thing is, while we don't know when, where and how Crocodile learned about the Ancient Weapons, Pluton specifically and how the lead on it would be in Alabasta... Considdering Crocodile did once upon a time aim to become Pirate King, it would make perfect sense if he had learned about Poneglyphs during his past adventures, as he would have needed to get the Road Poneglyphs to find One Piece. And while the World Government did bury the truth about why Ohara had been burned down and why Robin had been given her bounty (remember, the WG claimed it was because she had sunken a fleet of battleships, which she had not, it was because she could read the Poneglyphs), considdering this is a Crocodad AU specifically, you could totally make an argument Crocodile could've learned about what actually happened to Ohara from Dragon and co. So, just to make this AU work, you could just assume Crocodile learned about the concept of the Ancient Weapons from Dragon. And who knows, maybe he overheard the truth about why Robin had been given her bounty from Dragon too (maybe Dragon was able to get intel from Garp in secret) or while going to Marijoa himself to attend a Shichibukai meeting or something IDK.

Maybe he learned about Pluton being in Alabasta before finding Robin by accident, and maybe they made a beeline for Alabasta the second Croc recruited Robin. Travelling takes time and the guy would've most likely had to find an Eternal Pose to Alabasta just to get there (also canonically Robin didn't enter the Grand Line until her 20s so they should've met in West Blue probably, since that's where Ohara was) Or maybe Crocodile had to haul Robin around for a few months while looking for That Missing Piece of Information that would lead him to Alabasta. (Imagine the two travelling from like island to island, library to library, Crocodile trying to find that leads while Robin's just so excited about ALL THESE BOOKS (she's helping too with the research) (but to her, research is playtime, so she's just having the time of her life) (Also, notice how Crocodile's Theoretical Child is a fucking loser ass nerd? Yeah Crocodile would encourage Robin reading and studying, surely. And that would be fucking cute))

But like, once they set sail to Alabasta...

Sure, Crocodile could try to do it The Slow Way that we know he tried in canon, building trust and creating his little empire etc. But also, in canon, Crocodile couldn't have jumped into action head first because without Robin, even if he had found the Poneglyph he couldn't have read it and found the location of Pluton. Crocodile choosing to do it the slow way may have been partially because he didn't have much of a choise and it could've felt like the smarter move long-term.

But in this scenario, he already has Robin. Yes, he could do it the slow, secure way.

But what'd be there stopping him from infiltrating Cobra's palace and kidnapping him (in the night, when nobody suspects a thing), demanding Cobra to spill the beans lest Crocodile kills him and/or his pregnant wife* (*Vivi was born 10 months after Luffy so depending on how long it's been between Crocodad leaving Luffy behind and this scenario... Yeah either the wife is there, still pregnant, or there's a newborn Baby Vivi)

Like it'd be a risky move but depending on how ballsy Croc's feeling and how confident he feels in being able to kidnap the king without being noticed... Yeah he could probably do it. And I'm sure he'd have no problem killing Cobra either, if anything it'd be required if he didn't want the Government to find out he was out to find Pluton, and god knows Cobra would tell on Crocodile if left alive. I could see Crocodad being maybe a little iffy about killing Baby Vivi though (it's not like the newborn baby could report him to the WG anyways), but if nothing else, he just needs to be able to pull off the bluff of his life to convince Cobra to do as he's told. And we all know Crocodile's good at convincing people.

The only question is, how would Robin take that?

Watching Crocodile go into Full Murder Mode, hearing him say he'd kill a pregnant woman/a newborn baby if he didn't get what he wanted? Like yeah, I'm sure 11 year old Robin would be fine with that, that wouldn't make any alarm bells go off in her head at all, it'd be fiiiine. IT WOULD NOT BE FINE, SHE'D BE SCARED SHITLESS. That fear of "what will he do with me when he gets what he wants"? Well, Robin may not have found the answer to that question in particular, but she certainly found the answer to the opposite question, and it's not good

So say Cobra, kidnapped (perhaps with Baby Vivi) by Crocodile in the night, guides the two to the Poneglyph under the tombs. Crocodile puts Cobra out of his misery because he's not needed anymore. And he asks Robin to read the Poneglyph for him.

Robin, who has spent the last little while, be it weeks or months with Crocodile, him having become her "guardian", the thing keeping her safe. Crocodile, who has now shown how cold blooded and cruel he can be. Robin, who might be scared out of her mind. Of him.

And the Poneglyph says Pluton, the thing Crocodile wants, isn't there. It's in Wano.

What's she going to do?

EDIT: I wrote a sequel post, enjoy

[lxdymoon0357]

I’m seeing requests are open, craving Callisto (from Death is the only ending for the Villainess or Villains are destined to die) X reader. Prompt; they are in a relationship for years, and it’s healthy as it can be, and in healthy relationships arguments are bound to happen no? One day they have an argument that escalates so much that the reader cries, and this is the first time that Callisto witnesses them cry ever. Feel free to range this from tears sliding down the cheeks or full on bawling, but how would Callisto react to seeing his beloved cry for the very first time in an argument in a relationship they have been in for years?

(Okay, now I'm too sure if this came out well....But it's pretty short, kinda upset about that)

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

The heart tears apart...

...They say guilt is like rust- it is slow...but powerful and it eats the person alive...How was Callisto suppose to realize that saying was true until your cries fell on deaf ears...? This was not what he thought was result in tonight's anger...And it was all his fault...

He had been upset all day after someone spoke ill of your relationship, saying you're too good for him or he's too wild or he's not deserving of it...He's proud of his achievements, including achieving your love, but sometimes when chronic words are repeated...

They're like tiny pebbles, they don't hurt but there is one stone once in a while which when thrown bleeds into the skin...and that's what happens with vile words of stupid nobles who speak the same thing over and over again...Suddenly he didn't like your relationship for a second, not because of you...Because of himself, he felt angry as his mind spoke that he was tying you down, that he was not worthy of this and that there was someone better for you...

"WHAT DON'T YOU REALIZE, IT'S YOUR UTTER FAULT THAT I DON'T LIKE BEING WITH YOU ANYMORE?!" He yelled angrily, his eyes seeing red

......Was that really him? The one who fell down on his knees in a dying breath when he was away form you for too long, and Callisto didn't realize what he said until it fell in your ears and tears slipped down your cheeks..

Those eyes whom he always wanted to be filled with happiness, the same face he wanted to glow with beauty, smiles and laughter were now covered in tears because of him and suddenly inside him broke as he stopped in between his words, frozen..

You staring down on the ground with tears down your cheeks as he stopped his words, absolutely torn apart,

"Baby-I...I."

he couldn't say anything as he walked closer, he had never seen you cry and he knows why he doesn't let you even cry cause the sight was mentally painful to make him cry on his own as he walked a bit close, taking a hold of your wrist of the hand you were using to rub your eyes harshly to wipe the tears away.

You tried to pull away, but his grip on your wrist was tight as he pulled you in a tight hug, hiding your face in his chest, letting your cry ins expensive tuxedo, inhaling his cologne to calm yourself, clinging to him...

You would have never expected an argument to end with this, as he gently cried in your neck as he sat down and picked you up, pulling him on your lap, apologizing over and over in your skin.

You can't deny, it felt bad...but seeing him upset felt even worse, as you softly ran your fingers through his golden-blonde hair, as if threaded with the purest gold in this world...with the shine of a sun, such a bright smile he had..how sad most people couldn't see it, you did...it was gorgeous and so his sadness hurts just as bad as his anger..

You softly pulled his face up and kissed him, maybe you'll try to fix this again, how gorgeous he was..you couldn't deny his love...and you didn't mind his anger directed at you, even if heart tears apart, he fixed it with all he had..

[freyaphoria]

Ateez Reactions: You want to keep your hoodie/t-shirt on (maknae line)

hyung line

tw: gaining weight mentioned, being skinny memtioned, stretch marks, hurt-comfort, kissing, insecurities!! (idk why but i can't write tw properly)

taglist: @aim-blossom @itza-meee

San

You had just finished the first month of your relationship with San, you didn't see each other often due to his work so you hadn't been physically intimate yet. Since you had been friends for a long time before becoming lovers, he knew well the things that you were confident in and those that you were not, and he always approached you with respect on these issues. He would try to cover up your shortcomings without letting you know, which is why you've never felt insecure around him before. But why do you feel like you're going to sink into the ground right now?

San was on a week-long vacation and wanted to spend his vacation with you. You are also excited to spend time with him. San had booked a room at a nice a hotel with sea view, and things happened faster than you expected and now you were under him, waiting for his next move.

You were feeling insecure because of your skinny body compared to his wide and muscular body. San was always a gym freak and loved bodybuilding. What if he doesn't like your skinny body?

His hands were touching every part of your body he could find. He never let go, as if you would disappear if he left you for even a moment. "Are you sure? If you don't stop me now, I won't be able to stop again." He asked you without looking up from his buried head in your neck. Your hands were pulling on his hair and you pulled a little hard because you were nervous. San looked up at you because he thought you wanted him to stop. "Love? Is there something wrong?" You were torn between telling him or not, but if you didn't tell him about your insecurity and he found out later, he would be sad and maybe disappointed with you; you didn't know, you were so overwhelmed right now.

"I don't want to take off my t-shirt because I'm so skinny and I'll look bad next to you, you won't like me." San looked at you for a while and laughed. But it wasn't a sarcastic laugh, it was like 'are you giving a fuck about this?'.

"You look bad next to me? Love, you are the hottest person I have ever seen and you call yourself bad? Huh?!" San pulled you closer and brought his face closer to yours. "You're so beautiful! Get that in your mind!" He started tickling you and you were squirming. "San- Sannie! Stop!-" You couldn't talk because you were laughing. He knew how to instantly lift your mood. This was a habit from your time as friends. If one of you was in a bad mood, the other would tickle them until they forgot about that thing.

"Okay okay! I give up!" He left you and you regained your breath. "Say it." "Say what?" "Say that you're beautiful or I'll tickle you again." "I am beautiful." You said, staring at him blankly for a moment before his hands moved back to your waist again. "But can I still keep my shirt on? To make me feel comfortable." "Of course, you are already so beautiful in every way." He nod his head before burying his head in your neck again and whispering into your ear the most beautiful words you've ever heard.

Mingi

It wasn't unusual for you to get close in the studio. You've done it dozens of times before at Mingi's studio. But what was different was that you were insecure about your body these days because you thought you had gained weight. Mingi never commented on your size; He wouldn't talk to you critically, except to tell you how beautiful you were and that he adored you.

But when one of your close friends talked about your weight gain in a very humorous and derogatory way, you inevitably felt bad.

While Mingi was trying to write his new solo song, you were lying on the sofa in the studio and playing on your phone because you couldn't find anything to do. You were startled when Mingi suddenly pulled his chair back and turned towards you.

"Come here." He patted his lap. You lazyly got up and sat on his lap. This was also a habit between the two of you. Whenever Mingi was stressed, he would call you to his lap, hug you, and while your scent enchanted him, new ideas would come to his mind.

Mingi's hands began to wander over your body as he hugged you tightly. He started tugging on the thick hoodie you were wearing. When his breathing deepened, you understood what he wanted. “Put your arms up kitten, help me” he grabbed the hem of your hoodie and tried to lift it up. When you stopped him by grabbing his wrists, he looked at you confused. "I don't want to take it off." When you said it hesitantly, his eyes looked worried. "Did I do something? I'm sorry? Did I make you angry? Is it because of the cake I ate yesterday without realizing it was yours? Kitten, I didn't know it was really yours." If you weren't in a bad mood you'd giggle at him. "No, of course not. It's just... I gained weight and my body is not beautiful. I don't want you to see me like this." Mingi pulled you closer to him and hugged you again while stroking your hair. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't care even if you gain weight. I love you so much that even if you weigh 500 kilos, you will still be the most beautiful woman in the world." You giggled at him. "Is it possible to weigh 500 kilos?" Mingi pulled your hoodie down. "I don't know, maybe not?" You both laughed. "Would you feel more comfortable if we didn't take off your hoodie?" You nodded at him. “Okay kitten, I got you."

Wooyoung

"Would you relax a bit?" It was the first time you and Wooyoung got this close; Yes, he was usually on you all the time, but this was different. You were in his dorm room and you were nervous because someone would break in at any moment, on top of that you were going to show him your body so openly for the first time, and he understood your nervousness. "What if someone sees it?" He was kissing you slowly. "There's no one in the dorm right now. Can you trust me for a bit?" You trusted him, and he didn't force you. At first you wanted to get closer, but then your insecurities took over and you started making excuses.

He pulled you into his lap and held your head in his hands. "Why are you nervous? If you don't want to, I can stop and we can continue our day as if it never happened." You shook your head. "I want, but..." "But what?" You avoided eye contact and started playing with the ends of your shirt. "But you know... I..." Your eyes met as he lowered his head to make eye contact with you. You took a deep breath and spoke. "I'm not happy with my body and I have stretch marks." He looked at you confused. "So? I have stretch marks too? What does this change?" You were too embarrassed to talk so you whined in his lap. He grabbed you under your arms and lifted you into the air, pulling you closer. "Look, if you worry about such small things, you'll miss the moment." His eyes were so full of love that they almost made you forget all your insecurities. "I know I just can't help it. Can I just keep my t-shirt on? Besides I'm scared that someone will come and see me. Please?" He grabbed you by your neck and gently pulled you down to his eye level and kissed you slowly on your lips. "I'm 100 percent sure no one will come, but as long as you're comfortable."

Jongho

You and Jongho hadn't gotten physically intimate enough to take your clothes off yet. You would kiss and hug each other every day, but you wouldn't go that far. Jongho wanted to wait until you were ready and not bring it up so that you don't get nervous. But today, for the first time, when you said you were ready for him, you had doubts. Jongho never made a bad comment about your body, but you still didn't feel good about him seeing your body.

When you and Jongho were lying lazyly on the couch in the living room and the topic came up with physical intimacy, you gave him the green light, Jongho couldn't wait any longer, he changed his position, laid you on your back and started kissing you slowly. Your heart was beating so fast with excitement and tension that you thought he could hear it. He was kissing you deeper than you had ever kissed before, and you thought he was holding back until now. Since only the light of the television illuminated the room, you couldn't clearly see his facial expressions; you got nervous because you didn't know if he liked you, if he was enjoying you, if he was happy... You were afraid that anxiety would start to take over and ruin the mood. So you tried to pull away as his hands moved from your chin to your waist and he slowly started removing your top. You couldn't go back too far and held his hands.

"Don't." You were still kissing, but your pace slowed down. "Hm?" He hummed you without leaving your lips. You didn't know how to tell him. "Don't take off my hoodie." Jongho finally pulled away from you and you locked eyes. But his hands went to your hair and tucked the strand from your face under your ear. "Why? How will I see and feel you then?" You could feel your ears turning red with embarrassment. You mentally thanked the lack of light in the room. "You don't need to see my body because it's not beautiful-" He interrupted you by kissing you and whining against your lips. "Don't be ridiculous." "I'm not being ridiculous, I'm telling the truth."

He picked you up and placed you on his lap. "If you're comfortable, let's keep your clothes on, hm?" You nodded your head, too embarrassed to speak. "Look at me, doll." You lifted your head and looked at him. "It doesn't matter to me, stop stressing yourself. Besides, it makes me very angry that you are so beautiful and you treat yourself unfairly." Just as you were about to open your mouth and object, he interrupted you. "We can do it any way you want, as long as you feel comfortable and safe. Shall we go to the bedroom?"

a/n: I finally completed it! Sannie's was a little long but... Anyway, I'll continue with yandere requests. Yunho is wrecking me these days, so don't be surprised if I post 50 yandere yunho at once. HE IS SO!?!?!?!???!?! You have to stop Jeong Yunho, my heart can't take it anymore.

I don't think anyone reads this a/n place lol so I'm going to ramble on around here from now on.

[thedreamingdevil]

Could I make a request where JiU is so exhausted and sleep deprived that she just goes along with anything that is suggested or asked of her? One guy realises this and gets her to agree to dry anal. After which, he convinces her to suck his cock clean.

Untitled 1: JiU

You're one of the staff members in DCC, and you've noticed that JiU has been utterly exhausted lately. The grueling schedule of 12-hour days, constant performances and promotions, and sleep deprivation have taken a toll on her.

She's so tired that she just goes along with whatever is suggested or asked of her by anyone. Her usual vibrant and bubbly personality has been reduced to a meek, submissive shell of her former self.

One evening after a particularly long day of practice, you corner JiU alone in an empty dance studio. She's sitting on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, her head resting on them in exhaustion. You crouch down next to her, placing a hand on her thigh.

"Yah JiU, you're looking really beat. How about you let me help you blow off some steam? I know just the thing to perk you up and get that cute ass of yours warmed up before bed," you say with a lecherous grin, giving her thigh a squeeze.

In her dazed state, JiU simply nods along, too tired to protest or refuse. "O-okay... if you think it'll help me feel better..."

You smirk, knowing you've got her exactly where you want her. You stand up and grab JiU by the arm, pulling her up into a standing position. "Great! Let's head to the locker room then. I'll 'relax' you so good, you'll be dreaming of my cock later."

JiU doesn't resist at all as you lead her by the hand to the locker room and shove her inside, closing the door behind you both. The locker room is dimly lit, with the inviting scent of JiU's body wash lingering in the air. You can't wait to rip her clothes off and violate her.

You turn JiU around to face the lockers, bending her over and making her brace her hands against the cold metal. You flip up her skirt to expose her round, perfect ass, clad in a thin white thong that's already damp. Licking your lips, you hook your fingers into the waistband and yank the flimsy underwear down around her thighs.

JiU whimpers as you spread her ass cheeks apart, exposing her dry tight pink asshole. Her breath hitches as you spit crudely on her entrance before pressing the thick head of your cock against it. You push forward, trying to breach her, groaning at how ridiculously tight she is without lube.

"Oh fuck, JiU, this tiny ass of yours is gripping me so hard... You're gonna have to relax for me 'cause I'm about to wreck this hole," you growl, giving your hips a sharp thrust to force your cock deeper into her unprepared asshole.

JiU lets out a pained cry, her nails scraping against the lockers as you stretch her open and cram more of your girthy shaft inside her uncomfortably. Tears sting her eyes and she sobs brokenly, feeling like she's being torn in half. You've barely gotten 3 inches in and she's already clenching and fluttering around you, trying desperately to force your huge cock out of her.

"Please, it hurts! Pull out, I can't take it any deeper!" JiU begs between her mewls of pain, squirming her hips and trying to dislodge you from her abused hole.

But you just laugh, reaching around to maul at her tits as you continue to force your way deeper into her tight heat. "Aw, don't be like that JiU... I'm being a nice guy and giving this pretty ass the anal wrecking it deserves. Take my cock like an obedient anal slut."

With those words, you slam your hips forward, burying yourself halfway in JiU's clenching hole with a wet squelch. She wails in agony, her pussy lips fluttering as copious amounts of blood and lube dribble down her thighs. Her hands scrabble weakly at the lockers, trying to brace herself against your harsh thrusts, but she's too small and weak to stop you from violating her most tightest hole.

You grope and squeeze at JiU's tits brutally as you rail her asshole, pinching and tugging on her nipples until she's a blubbering, drooling mess. Drool runs down her chin as she sobs, the pain overwhelming her tired mind. Your cock plunges into her over and over, forcing her tight ring of muscle to stretch obscenely around your girth.

"Fuuuck, JiU, your shitter is so goddamn tight... I'm gonna ruin this for anyone else," you grunt, giving her ass a spank that echoes through the locker room. JiU shrieks and clenches down around you, making her tight hole clamp down like a vice on your pistoning shaft.

You piston your hips harder, grunting and panting with the effort of tearing through her spasming walls. JiU is sobbing so hard she's practically hiccuping, utterly overwhelmed by the anal violation. Her body shudders with each cruel thrust, practically choking on her own drool as she gurgles and cries.

You pound into JiU's wrecked hole for what feels like hours, grunting and growling like a feral beast as you use her. Finally, with a loud groan, you bury yourself as deep as you can in her abused ass and unload, pumping thick ropes of cum deep into her bowels. JiU wails shakily as she's filled with your hot seed, her guts churning with the foreign substance.

As you pull out of her with a wet plop, JiU collapses to her knees, clutching at her bleeding, gaping asshole. Puss and cum ooze out of her, making a mess on the floor. You stroke your cock back into semi-hardness before grabbing a fistful of JiU's hair and yanking her head back.

"Clean up the mess you made. Suck my cock until it's spotless," you sneer down at her, rubbing the head of your dirty, cum-covered cock against her tear-streaked face.

JiU whimpers but obediently opens her mouth, extending her little tongue to lap submissively at your length. You thrust between her lips, groaning as she slurps and gags around you. Her throat constricts, massaging the cock with her muscles as you force her to deepthroat it.

You fuck JiU's face with cruel abandon, holding her head in place as she chokes and sputters, trying desperately to breathe through her nose. Spit froths out around your pistoning length as you use her mouth, reduced to a mere cocksleeve. JiU's eyes roll back in her head as she's forced to gag on your shaft over and over, drool pouring down her chin.

"Fuck yeah, take it deeper. Milk my cock with that throat," you groan, ramming into her convulsing esophagus until her nose is pressed against your pubic bone. JiU's eyes nearly cross, the squelches of you violating her throat filling the locker room. You hold her in place until her struggles grow weak, fighting her body's instinctive need to breathe.

Just when it seems like you might actually suffocate her, you pull out of her mouth, letting JiU collapse forward with a massive gasp. She coughs and wheezes, strings of drool connecting her puffy lips to your cockhead. "Good girl... now turn around and present your ruined asshole to me like the anal whore you are," you order, giving her ass a harsh smack.

JiU whimpers but scrambles to turn over, lifting her hips and reaching back to spread her bright red, puffy asshole for you. It gapes obscenely, a few drops of blood and cum oozing out. You groan at the sight, delivery a few more light spanks to her bruised cheeks before tucking yourself back into your pants.

"Alright slut, I think that's enough anal for tonight. You can go clean yourself up now," you say dismissively, like JiU is nothing more than a dirty rag for you to use and discard when you're done.

JiU sniffles and slowly pulls her skirt back down over her sore ass. She stumbles to her feet on shaky legs, wincing as her ravaged asshole twinges with pain. With a final whimper, she limps out of the locker room, leaving you to tuck your softening cock into your pants with a self-satisfied smirk.

You know JiU is so fucked out that she'll be agreeing to anything you suggest from now on. And you plan on taking FULL advantage of that.

[luveline]

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬? | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you have a bad habit and miguel finds a solution —a begrudgingly in love miguel deals with his gf’s oral fixation. 1k. requested here

cw mildly mature themes/love bites. mdni

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel knew when he passed you his hand that you'd start some weird shit like this. You withhold for a while, but eventually his fingertips end up by your mouth. You brush them against your lips absent-mindedly. He knows you like the feeling, knows you draw an unconscious comfort from being able to chew on something, and he's not interested in demonising you for something you can't help. 

What he can't abide is your using him like a dollar store chew toy. The second he feels your breath against his fingers, he pulls your joined hands down into the gap between your thighs on the workbench and warns, "Don't." 

"Sorry, Miguel," you say, blinking back to attention. 

"Can't you chew on a pencil like a normal person?" 

"Sorry," you say again, not really sorry. Miguel's not really mad. "I forget that it's you." 

He likes the sound of that, even if he's still disapproving. It's hard to be mad when the level of trust you have for him extends so far, the comfort he gets from your mere presence reflected in you and your lack of shame surrounding a bad habit. Miguel sighs and goes back to his sketching. You squeeze his hand twice and do the same. 

If you can't bite him, you'll bite yourself. It starts with your nails and stretches to your cuticles. You've hurt yourself doing it before, and Miguel doesn't want to see you do it again. He winces at way you nibble your skin.

"Could you cut it out?" he asks. 

"I'm not doing anything." 

"You're trying to start the next apocalypse." 

"It's not hurting anyone," you insist. 

"It's hurting you." 

You let go of his hand to take the computer mouse, dragging and dropping a file from the first monitor onto his. He doesn't bother opening it. It's some flirtatious drivel or tech he doesn't want to deal with,  undoubtedly. 

"It's okay," you sing-song quietly. "You're such a worrier."

He thinks, Fine. Leaves you to your work, gets on with his own, and tries not to worry about your poor fingertips. Ten minutes become an hour, and he forgets what you'd been squabbling about, distracted by work. You drop file after file onto his screen until he gives in and opens one, finds a note drawing done with a jagged cursor of him, he assumes, frowny-faced with a bright red heart drawn around himself. The majority are the same, though the first one you sent him is Miguel with a smile, his cartoon version captioned, "secret softie :3". He puts a couple in his files and the rest in the recycling basket. 

He's retrieving the ones he deleted guiltily when you hiss. He checks on you from the corner of his eye, and notices the little red line of blood building in your cuticle. 

"There's actually something wrong with you."

"Ouch," you murmur, waving your finger around. "Stings." 

"I told you." 

"D'you have a bandaid?" 

Miguel doesn't have a bandaid in the workshop. His first aid kit is half nano tech, half traditional wrap around bandages, all overkill for your surface wound. He takes pit on you and your crinkled face and pulls your hand toward eye level to inspect the damage. You've pulled the cuticle skin up toward the bed and torn skin that should be left alone, blood quick to congeal in the air. He should've just let you bite him. 

"Idiot," he says, and kisses the side of your hand. "Don't do it again."

You grumble at his name calling but seem otherwise appeased. It's not long before your hand is going back to your mouth, but you must remember his demand, choosing to tuck your hands between your thighs. You squirm in your seat and can't focus on your work. 

Miguel thinks, Fuck it. 

"Alright, come here."

You wheel your chair closer.

"What, I have to do all the work?" he asks, holding out his arms. "Come here." 

You stand and slide between the desk and his legs. His thighs are big, and your own press to the top of the desk from the lack of space. You put a hand on his arm curiously. 

"Kiss me," he says. 

You lean in quickly and kiss him. A tentative thing where you're usually confident laying one on him. 

"What was that?" he asks. 

"A kiss?" 

"Kiss me properly," he says. He bracelets your elbow in a big hand, a soft touch to reassure you. "You've wanted to all day." 

You have the decency to pretend (albeit weakly) that he's wrong. "Whaaaat? Who told you that?" 

Miguel sighs and takes your face into his hands instead. He takes in your expression slowly, your eyes, your pupils like black dimes, lashes kissing in the outer corners as you look down to his mouth. You bite the inside of your lip and he loses it —Miguel tugs you against his chest and kisses you firmly, hand at the small of your back and pulling urgently upward in an attempt to bring you closer. 

He can feel the little line from your own biting on your lips as he presses against the seam of them, and he doesn't know what he's going to do with you besides kiss you: he won't let you chew on him, no matter how nice your mouth is. He'll just have to kiss you until you can cope. 

Or you could always bite him in other places. 

"Wait, wait, I can't breathe," you say, pulling away. 

Miguel works his fingertips under the back of your shirt, feeling the slope of bare skin there absentmindedly. "My bad. How's your compulsion?" 

"Wanna play vampires?" you ask. 

He laughs and leans away from you, a feigned disapproval. "Wanna play get a grip?" 

"Grip on your neck?" you ask. 

"How about I bite you? See how you like it." 

You pull your knee up, socked foot digging into his thigh as you lay your cheek on his collar, straining up every time you want to kiss his neck. You press sweet, chaste kisses into his skin, seemingly unbothered by the pretzel-like position you've twisted yourself into. 

"You act like I'm a chair."

"You told me," —kiss, kiss— "to sit here, Miguel, I don't know what you want from me." Third kiss, then a fourth. 

He tamps down goosebumps and gives up. "Can you chill out while I work?" 

"... I can keep kissing you?" 

"Do what you like. I need to finish this net." 

You lounge. Miguel struggles to keep it together, but at least you aren't biting your nails anymore. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed!! if you did and you have the time, please think about reblogging <3

[tinylilacbun]

This request is based on season 4

How about the boat scene with Rafe being tied up but him being readers CG, how would that go down with reader and the Pogues /nf

You watch as Sarah prepares a tray with food and water for Rafe, standing beside her and fiddling with your fingers.

She knows what you're thinking and smiles at you, sliding the tray towards you. "Why don't you go and give it to him this time?"

You bite your lip, hesitating for a moment but nod your head yes, sending her a small smile before taking the tray in your hands.

You're carefully balancing the tray as you make your way to the tiny bathroom Rafe is tied up in.

First you were mad at JJ for punching him so hard to knock him out but after John b explained to you that the blonde was just overall stressed and overreacting you decided not to press on it any further, knowing that JJ has been through hell the last days.

As you reach the bathroom you slowly push the door open, seeing Rafe sitting on the ground in a manspread leaning against the wall.

He turns his head at the sound of the door creaking, a scowl on his face as he expects to see his sister again but it fades when he realizes it's you.

You crouch down and place the tray on the ground close to him, then sit down crisscross fumbling with the edge of your summer dress that Rafe bought you, not knowing what to say at the moment.

"Y'know, I can't really eat like this." He says lifting his bound hands a bit even though he could eat just fine the last times, he just wants to use the fact you're probably little and are molded into being his good girl to make you untie him. "C'mon, I won't tell them."

You feel torn between your loyalty to your daddy and to your friends, or family to be exact. The pogues have been a part of your life longer than Rafe but him on the other hand is the person you chose to be your caregiver, so you're conflicted.

"I can't..." You mumble, looking down at your lap, not wanting to meet his probably disappointed gaze. "Da others told me not to."

Rafe clenches his jaw, adjusting his position in the cramped space with a groan. "And I'm telling you to untie me, kid."

You shake your head guiltily. "M'sorry, daddy..."

"It's okay, I didn't expect anything else." He scoffs, using his leg to slide the tray closer to him. "You can go. I'm not someone who needs to be fed."

Your chest feels tight at the remark, feeling tears building up in your eyes at his tone, only used to him using the soft one while you're little but you can't really blame him.

Reaching into the small pocket you have on your dress you pull out some chocolate, laying it on his tray beside the cup of water. "I told 'em dat you not gonna be mean bu' they didn' listen..."

Rafe can't help but sigh, now feeling like an asshole for the way he's treating you right now and that he tried to make you feel bad that he's tied up, it's not like he didn't deserve it after all the things he's done.

He's a person who needs to be in control, and being tied up and unable to have the upper hand in this situation is triggering him to no end, that if something should happen he won't be able to do anything.

"Thanks...baby." He gives you a faint smile, glancing at the already open chocolate package. "Someone already had a little taste, huh?"

You giggle quietly but shuffle closer to him, careful to not spill anything that's on the tray, leaning your head against his shoulder you grab the chocolate.

Breaking off a piece you hold it up to him and he gratefully takes the piece into his mouth. "Where did you even get that?"

"Sarah sneaked it into ma pocket." You whisper into his ear and he nods, rolling his eyes jokingly.

"Should've figured that." He chuckles, his cheek pressed against the top of your head, feeling content to have you with him right now.

Taglist

For everything:

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For Rafe:

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[distinguisheddwarffriend]

Inspired by that post about Thranduil being all defensive/protective over Gimli in Valinor:

We all know the head canon of Thorin being all "no nephew of mine even associates with an elf" BUT

Just imagine, in a world where all three Durins survived, and Tauriel saved Kili (again), and some other elf healed his and Fìli's wounds last minute.

Thorin saw both his nephews almost die before him, has LIVED through how the gold sickness twists the mind and perception of things, and after coming to terms with Bilbo's theft of the Arkenstone, he for a while questions EVERYTHING.

And yes, he totally has a dramatic phase of self pity, holing up in his rooms, drinking Elvish wine (cus thats all there is atm) and smoking Gandalf's pipeweed, and mourning how "everything i knew is a LIE" and "if elves can make such amazing wine there HAS to be some good in them" and "I almost got my boys killed I am such a failure boooohoooo", and after Bilbo kicks his ass out if depression (and a STRONG worded letter from his sister) he is like "okay FUCK y'all I have TRAUMA TM and will do WHATEVER I WANT!!"

So when Kili all shyly comes forward one day asking if Tauriel can please stay with them in the mountain because she's banished from the Woodland Realm he's all "OF COURSE she can stay, you do you my precious boy, if Thranduil is stupid enough to let such a great warrior go we'll stick it to him"

and BAM, Tauriel joins Dwalin in leading Erebor's guard, and Dwalin is torn between "excuse ME u want me to share my job with a pointy eared maiden?" And "holy hell that lass has fire can't show how impressed I am".

And Tauriel Takes No Shit even from her own boyfriend, so Kìli is forced to take his new responsibilities seriously because "I did NOT lose my home to live with a CHILD, Kili", and Fili gets dragged into the whole thing without really understanding what happened, but hey, his lil brother is happy so who cares really.

And whenever someone at council (like Dain) complains about an Elf in the mountain, Thorin goes absolutely FERAL like "are you saying I don't know what's best for this mountain I just won from A DRAGON?! are you suggesting that my perfect baby nephew has bad taste? Huh? Exactly, didn't think so!!!!" And is a protective Papa bear "listen Tauriel if someone gives you shit you SHOOT them. No, not killing them, but, you know, just maim them a little to make a point. Trust me I'm the king."

And once Kili and Tauriel have their first child Thorin constantly kidnaps the kid and has them in the forge before they can even talk because "need to keep up that good old dwarven influence".

Anyway I'll go cry myself to sleep now.

[steddie-island]

Life finds a way

Written for week 5 of @softsteddieseptember | Prompt: Adoption Rating: G | WC: 1,113 | Tags: Established Steddie, mention of Al being in jail, anxiety about becoming parents ao3 | Divider credit

The plastic seat dug into the backs of Steve's thighs. They'd been sitting in the waiting room for over an hour now. At least Eddie had stopped pacing, had settled for bouncing his leg up and down and fidgeting with the cap of his water bottle.

"Hey." Steve reached over to catch Eddie's hand. He threaded their fingers together and gave a gentle squeeze. "We'll be okay. We can do this."

"Yeah." Eddie didn't sound so sure. He brought his other hand to his mouth to start chewing on his cuticles. It was the same position he'd sat in the night before, only Steve wasn't across from him this time.

Steve rested his chin on Eddie's shoulder and switched which hand he had laced with Eddie's, so he could wrap his other arm around his partner's back. "We'll be okay."

"We've done this before."

"Not like this," Eddie murmured. "Not with— not with someone so small. What if— what if I fuck up? What if I don't know what I'm doing and I fuck up in a way that— that can't be fixed? That I can't take back? What then?"

Eddie's hair was bigger, wilder than it normally was, showing just how many times he'd dragged his hands through it, or had his face hidden in his palms. There was a half empty pack of cigarettes on the table that Steve knew for a fact had only been opened a couple of hours earlier.

"We might fuck up, but it won't be on purpose. Everyone fucks up sometimes." Steve kissed Eddie's knuckles. "I'm not saying it won't be hard, but we can do it. And they're your siblings."

That earned a sound that halfway between a scoff and a whine. "I know. I know. What the fuck— he's old, he's not supposed to be out there just— making more kids he can't take care of."

It'd been a week since the call from the state. A week since they'd found out Al was in jail again, leaving behind two kids that no one else wanted to take responsibility for.

Steve wasn't sure he'd ever seen Eddie this torn up before.

"There are a lot of people out there doing that." Steve caught Eddie's other hand and held them to his own chest. "We don't have to do this. If you really think we can't do it, if you don't want to—"

"I want to," Eddie said quickly, his eyes going wide. "We've talked about having kids before, I just… didn't think this would be how it happened."

"I know. I didn't, either. I didn't think it would be like this, or be so soon…"

"Yeah. Yeah, fuck." Eddie pushed his fingers through his hair again. "I'm scared, Stevie."

Steve cupped Eddie's face between his palms. "It'll be hard. I'm not saying it won't be. We might fuck up. We will fuck up, there's no way for us not to." He smiled a little. "But those kids will be so loved. They'll never have to wonder for even a second whether we love them."

Moisture welled up in Eddie's eyes. He cleared his throat, blinked the tears back, nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, we have that going for us," he said. "And… you want this? With me? You want to do this?"

Steve pulled him in, kissed him gently before resting their foreheads together. "I've never wanted anything more in my life," he admitted. "If you're in, I'm in."

Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve's back, pulling him closer until Steve was sitting in his lap. He brushed their lips together before meeting those eyes he would never get tired of getting lost in. "I'm in."

"Mr. Munson?"

Eddie jerked up out of his seat, nearly dropping his water bottle in the process. "Here— I mean, that's— me."

Steve stood up, too, as the caseworker they'd already met with to fill out paperwork came through the door. There was a bundle in one arm, and her other was holding the hand of a little kid with dark curls and darker eyes.

Steve had always thought that Eddie got his looks from his mom, but those eyes were Eddie's. "Oh…"

There was a soft intake of air. Eddie took a cautious step forward, then squatted down so he was even with the kid in front of him. "Hey, sweetheart. What's your name?"

The kid shot a shy look up to the caseworker, then back to Eddie. "Andrew," he said, but it came out more like Andwew.

"Hi, Andrew. I'm Eddie." He smiled and held his hand out, and Steve melted as the little boy in front of them took Eddie's hand. "You'll be coming to stay with us for a little while."

Andrew bit his lips and looked up at the caseworker. There was so much Eddie in that nervous little glance. "Sissy, too?" he asked.

Eddie gave him a nod. "Yeah. Both of you."

The caseworker smiled and smoothed a hand over Andrew's curls. "They're very nice," she said. "They'll take good care of you."

Andrew looked past Eddie to Steve for the first time. "Who him?" he asked.

Steve squatted beside Eddie and held his hand out, too, just like Eddie had done. "I'm Steve. I'll be taking care of you, too." He gestured to the shirt Andrew was wearing. "Do you like dinosaurs?"

"Yeah." He ran a pudgy little hand over the print of his shirt. "They go—" He held his hands up like claws and made a dinosaur roaring sound.

Oh, yeah. This kid was a mini Eddie, and Steve was in love.

"They do! They're so cool, aren't they?" Eddie looked at Steve, his eyes swimming, his smile wide. "How about we take you and your sister home, we can make some dinosaur nuggets and watch a movie?"

Andrew perked up at the offer, and he didn't look back to the caseworker this time. "Can we?"

"Yeah!" Eddie straightened up and offered Andrew his hand. "We definitely can, if you want to!"

"Okay!"

Steve stood and held his arms out for the baby wrapped in a soft yellow blanket. He could make out her dark hair, not as curly as her big brothers' hair but the same dark shade of brown. That was definitely Eddie's mouth, too. "Hi, sweetheart. You're coming home with us," he murmured.

"Call if you need anything," the caseworker said with a squeeze to Steve's elbow and a smile at Eddie. "I'll check in in a few days."

"Thank you," Eddie said. He bent to pick Andrew up, then rested a hand at the small of Steve's back to guide him to the door. "C'mon. Let's go home."

[m3talmunson]

It started with babes. Babes is completely platonic right? Nothing out of the ordinary there. Eddie was known for being over dramatic, why would nicknames -or in this case, pet names- be any different?

Babes wasn't even that over the top, so why was Steve blushing like a school girl after it was said in passing?

Steve definitely knew why, although, he was going to pretend he didn't. But he knew, about himself, about Eddie. A couple months after spring break '86 Steve had a very enlightening talk with Robin about his feelings. Towards Munson. Those completely and totally platonic feelings.

And a couple weeks later, as though Eddie was so in tune with Steve's discovery, Eddie came out to Steve at a campfire with Robin and Nance. Those two had wandered off, Eddie made some comment about "Good for Robs," before realizing his mistake. That was, until Steve said "Yeah, good for Robs," and Eddie just had to ask.

"You know about her? Y'know..."

"What? Eddie? Of course! She's my best friend."

"And you're ok with it?" Eddie was kind of shocked. Great 'King' Steve wasn't going to sick the dogs on Hawkins Local Lesbian? And it seemed like he had known longer than Eddie?

"Yeah, when you survive hell and back enough it's pretty hard to hate anyone for being gay." Steve left off the part where he was also into guys. He knew Eddie was ok with that, clearly ok with Robin, but Eddie might not be ok with being the guy Steve was into.

"Oh. Well," Eddie didn't know if it was the couple beers he had downed, or his newfound safety with this big ol' group of misfits, but he was comfortable asking Steve, "What if I was like Robin too?"

"Are you?" Steve asked. He wasn't going to get his hopes up over hypotheticals, but he could admit he had feelings for the older boy. He wasn't sure what feelings to be honest,but he was figuring that out as he went. He just knew they were more than platonic.

"Well, technically I'm the opposite of Robin, y'know. Not attracted to women. But yeah, I am." Eddie stared into the camp fire, torn between hoping that it would eat him alive, or that it would simply stare back.

"Okay, thanks for trusting me." Steve responded, plain as day.

He had asked Robin, if someone were to come out to him (granted they were not just drugged by Russians), what would she have wanted to hear. And he finally got the chance to use it, seeing the way Eddie's shoulders dropped in relief.

"So you're like actually ok with it?"

"Like I said, been to hell and back with you, who you love doesn't mean a thing over that."

" Yeah," Eddie said,"But most straight guys don't like it when gay guys flirt relentlessly with them."

"We'll keep that one between us then, won't we?" Steve wasn't entirely ready to correct Eddie on the straight thing, so he just didn't acknowledge that part. He chose to ignore the blush rise on his face, blaming it internally on the heat of the fire.

He also tried to ignore that at that point, the nicknames picked up.

It started with babes. Then baby, which made Steve's brain flutter. Then sweetheart. Eddie only used that one when he wanted something, and yet Steve still loved it. Stevie was one of the fan favorites. Not really a pet name, but used just as lovingly as one. Sometimes Eddie held out the end, in a sing-song voice. Made Steve weak in the knees. Eddie knew what he was doing.

It was babe that made Steve do something about it. Eddie used sweetheart, baby, Stevie, around everyone. In front of the kids, on his various trips to Family Video (whether to buy or annoy, who knew). But babe. Babe was just for Steve and Steve alone.

So of course, the only logical order of events was for Steve to start using them back.

It started with babe, the obvious choice. Fight fire with fire, or whatever. The meaningless pet names ended with babes too.

Because after Eddie kissed Steve to shut him up, they suddenly had meaning.