#idk i just shifted to observing

[daisiesonafield-blog]

Do you think Louis will bring Freddie to the LA premiere? I am expecting it.

hmmmm Honestly at this point, if it's actually in LA, I think he could do it. Depending on what the premiere would be like :/ I'm just always expecting it all so I don't get too disappointed if it does happen.

[haleigh-sloth]

Chapter 275 of Blue Lock is slowly eating away at my existence like how am I supposed to recover from this:

So triggered that he's reliving the devastating conversation he and his brother had.

Isagi to the rescue--erasing Sae's phantom, keeping Rin from completely falling apart mid-game.

Why are we putting our lives on the line--this is soccer.

Why are we dying together. This is soccer.

I get it, Isagi is special. I'm happy for you but Rin get some help.

I love this scene so much it's killing me.

[the-kipsabian]

idk man

that doesnt really look like a face of an innocent man i trust is all im saying

[goldentigerfestival]

Yuri's dialogue (JP) is so fascinating to study, like... the repetitive use of certain words/phrases that others use sparingly but he uses constantly. the way it feels like his vocabulary is more expansive than what he uses, but he defaults to a "comfort" level of speech. the way it mixes in with his sort of "street talk" words and the sheer level of informality. the way his "street talk" phrasing is contrasted by the tone of his voice (on that note, people I know who also know JP are also very endeared by these aspects of him so I KNOW IT'S NOT JUST ME!!!).

'cause the thing is, he uses phrases that yeah, other people do use, but he uses a handful over and over and over (contrast to other characters' sparing use of repetition). it's actually... really refreshing? it sounds more relatable and less "video game/anime/JRPG/RPG" writing or something, idk. like closer to how a real person would speak.

I do my best in my translations not to make things sound too stiff across the board, but Yuri makes it so easy. it's why I'm so interested in translating all his lines in Vesperia, like... the actual, original tone for him with his original wording because it's smth Eng only players don't get to experience ('cause even if you listen with JP audio, if you don't know the language, ofc you're gonna miss out on context. it's nobody's fault for not knowing, just... they unfortunately miss out). the thing is, there are a lot of times when the lines in and of themselves are not contextually incorrect in the English ver (usually the situation for smaller scenes, because they altered the text outright for more important stuff which was the stuff that originally set me off, but there were also plenty of cases of just vocal tone shifting with the correct context that still gave off the wrong impression), but Yuri's tone is shifted away from the original in Eng even though it's completely and perfectly translatable.

I am by no means about to translate the entire game because let's face it, I really don't care that much for Vesperia on the whole. I'm kinda stuck with it because Yuri's there lo and behold I actually am WAY more engaged in his stories in Rays, Link and Asteria because it's an amazing character put into circumstances where he actually gets to shine and feels more alive, which Vesperia did not provide nearly as well with its very disjointed story. also, Tales gachas have banger stories that are arguably better than the mainline games, and they regularly make Yuri a very central character to the gachas. Crestoria was also about to do it until they pulled the plug on that game and I'm pretty confident something interesting has been lost to the world. also I just generally don't have the energy or motivation to do that, so... I'll only be focusing on Yuri's lines, especially because his stuff is where the bulk of the messing around was. he's just insanely fun to translate for and I love burying myself head first into his speech.

will I actually finish this project? dunno. will I get around to posting it? whatever I get done (so all of it if I complete it), and if I decide to call it quits then I'll post what I have at the time I decide that. will it take a long time? probably, but I can always mention stuff along the way...

[phynixdotcom]

My infatuation & subsequent obsession with media is often tied to the ways in which I am incapable of talking about them. Whether it's because of the abhorrent contents therein which demand too much; the incomprehensible nature of my feelings on the matter; the shoddy & underbaked construction; no matter what, there is always something within all my beloved interests make them hard (or even impossible) to talk about. Instead, I talk within myself in an endless echo of speculation & alteration, as a means to replicate the sounds of a room that is not so empty. I, on my own, (no matter how many of me I am in the moment,) will never be able to fully encapsulate the sounds of a room brimming with people, though, so I double down & try to chatter more, to make up my impossible deficit.

[littlemut]

that’s what being in your 20s feels like. once you’re past that i promise you. you’ll be free (source: speaking from experience)

anybody else in here feel like they're constantly and involuntarily calculating their every thought and action. and doing it wrong

[fruit-kick]

going balls deep into a hobby is watching 40 minute videos from 5 years ago about an incredibly specific technique/solution to a problem you're having

[omgeto]

☆ R U GONNA STAY THE NIGHT? — fratboy!GETO SUGURU

summary:geto suguru, 'top dog' on campus, is used to ploughing through all the ditzy little freshmen without any concern for their feelings. but now his biggest challenge, is you, and it's not getting you in his bed, its getting you to stay in it.

wc: 4k (look guys I did it)

cw: afab!reader, all types of fucking, masturbation, you ride his dick, you ride his face, he gives you like two spanks, he's kinda whiny but then at the same time not. you both think you're the boss of this situationship and you are both wrong. MDNI slight angst if you squint, or maybe angst angst idk

an: first fic in 10 days, is this what you call a comeback? idk but I hope you enjoy whatever this is I TRIED OKAY I TRIED! Also thanks bae @kazushawty for betaing some and bullying me in our chats

sleeping with a frat bro wasn’t on your to do list during your freshman year, but there is something about geto suguru that you just can’t shake. you thought that you were one of many, after hearing all the rumours about him that spread throughout campus and that didn’t phase you as long as he could get you off, you didn’t care what else he did. but little did you know he is all about you and he is finally gonna let that be known tonight.

"excuse me," a whisper brushes against your ear, a deep, low hum that sends shivers down your spine. hands press lightly on your waist, shifting you ever so slightly. you glance over your shoulder, eyebrows furrowing when you realise there is more than enough room for the person to pass. it's geto suguru, and you shoot him a withering glare.

"what's the problem?" he asks, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he observes the hard look you're giving him. but instead of answering, you simply turn away, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

geto, undeterred by your cold response, takes a step closer. his presence is magnetic, and you can feel the heat of his body inches from yours. the music pulses around you, the crowd dancing and laughing, but all you can focus on is him.

“y’know me” he leans in, his breath warm against your ear, and his voice drops to a seductive murmur. "can’t resist the opportunity to get a little closer to you."

“oh fuck off geto,” you hiss, but your words had no real bite, you move your elbow to try and deter him but his stance remains fixed behind you.

“you’re a hard woman to please,” he sighs, with mock sadness, “but as frat president i can’t have one of my party guest having a bad time at one of my parties can i?”

“maybe you just aren’t trying hard enough,” you retort quickly, finally turning around to face him head on, a teasing smirk appearing on your face, “what would you know about pleasing me?”

“i think we both know what i know about pleasing you,” he offers his hand out, “c’mon let me show you a good time.” you hesitate, seeing the spark in his eyes and he puts his hand out further, urging you to take it. you close your eyes swiftly, taking a deep breath before letting him drag you into the crowd of people.

geto hand remains a reassuring hold as he drags you through the sea of intoxicated dancers. he pulls you into him, his dick already bricked up as brings it to your ass, your turn your head and raise your eyebrow, and he flashes a smile in return his hands sliding down to hold your hips as he starts to gyrate against you. you quickly match his pace, throwing back your ass, your hips swaying in time with geto and the music.

he places his hand at the small of your back, forcing you to bend slightly, as he widens his stance and forces his body into your further. your mouth parts, at the contact, and you smile at the feeling — geto suguru actually has rhythm. he’s quick to pull you up, peppering light kisses against your face as he grinds into you.

his arm hooks around your neck in a gentle but firm hold, as he bends down to your ear, his lips whispering words only meant for you, as he continues to rub his clothed dick in the crook of your ass. geto manoeuvres his hands up and down your body, his fingers teasingly toying with your tits, as he explores all you, right on the dance floor.

you could feel the heat between your legs grow, so you pull away from geto turning around to face him, his hands coming down to hold you close to him as if he was afraid you'd run away. “not bad huh?” he asks, knowing that you feel the exact same as he does, you both didn’t even notice all the eyes on you, as the crowd of partygoers just witnessed you almost fuck on the dance floor.

before you could even respond, you could feel the wind being knocked out of you as a broad chest collides right into you. geto keeps you upright, so you don’t fall on your ass and places you behind him as he steps to the person responsible for almost knocking you over. 

as the fog of the moment clears, you see the cause of the commotion—gojo satoru, geto's best friend, is in a blissful state of drunkenness, a wide grin plastered across his face.

"heeeeyy, suguru," gojo greets loudly, his bleary eyes darting between the two of you. "is this you, yeah?" his words slur slightly, but it's clear he's trying to figure out the situation. geto doesn't respond verbally, but the subtle smirk on his face and the bashful look on yours speak volumes. "you know what we could do to make this night greater," gojo announces with an exaggerated flourish.

geto sighs, on a usual day he’s all up for entertaining his friend but tonight all he wants to do is entertain you. “what is it satoru?”

“shots!” he cheers, looking around the room to be completely ignored, in too much of a drunken state to even notice, “c’mon sugu, you love shots, you can even bring this pretty little thing you’ve got with you.” he finishes, gojo’s eyes linger on you a little too long as he sizes you up, his bottom lip pulling into his teeth and all you could do is raise your eyebrows up at him, puzzled.

“bro,” geto commands, and gojo’s eyes snap to his friends as he raises his hand in mock surrender, “just take us to the fucking shots.” the subtle tension between the two guys didn't go unnoticed by you, but you brush it off, chalking it up to frat boys being frat boys. 

it was soon forgotten anyways, with you sprawled across a table of the frat house, drunken partygoers jeering at you as your shirt is half pulled up just stopping at your breast and gojo is cheering as he’s sprinkles salt on you and lines your stomach with shots.

“care to do the honours,” gojo taunts geto as he finishes pouring the final shot. geto sends a glare his way ignoring him as he makes his way over to you, giving you a long stripe of his tongue down your stomach, before quickly downing all the shots on your stomach, his eyes stuck on you. gojo offers him a lime, which he snatches straight out of his hands. gojo tuts, shaking his head, “someones touchy.” and just to add fuel to the fire, gojo has his own lick at your stomach, more slower and sensual then geto’s was, and he pours himself a shot, giving you a wink as he drinks it.

“what the fuck man?” geto interrogates, stepping to his friend, slightly wobbling as the shots he just backed in swift succession, hit him quickly.

“what’s wrong suguru?” gojo teases with a playful grin, he wasn’t dumb he knew who you were before he even saw you, geto talks about you all the time. so when gojo finally saw you with him, with geto still downplaying how he hard he actually fucks with you, he couldn’t help but fuck with his friend a bit, “you jealous?”

“don’t even start with me ‘toru,” geto warns, and you begin to sit up with an eye roll, you couldn’t deny you were a bit tipsy, but no amount of alcohol could make you bear to see this lame exchange of fray boy bravado. 

“oh whats your issue man,” gojo brushes him off, going to pour himself another drink, but geto is hot on his tails. “bro we literally always share the hot freshmen, what makes her any different.”

“because she just is,” geto snaps, in an attempt of a hush tone but you hear him loud and clear.

“i think i’m going to go,” you say out loud, and geto hears you pausing, slightly panicked. forgetting all about gojo his focus back onto you.

“no no, you don’t have to leave, we were having a good time right?” he stammers, rushing to persuade you stay. you couldn’t deny that you were having a good time, geto suguru is actually fun to be around, and the way he was staring at you, begging for you just stay with him, hits you right in your core. he pulls you close to him as he murmurs to you, “i know you felt what i felt when we were dancing, just give me a chance and like i said earlier i could really show you a good time. if you let me.”

geto just wanted to get you alone, he could see that the heavy noise of the club was clearly not your vibe, but he couldn’t let you leave just yet. he offers out his hand just like he did at the start of the party, but this time you didn’t hesitate to take it. letting him cart you off upstairs as you both ignore that wolf whistles coming from gojo, “you better get some suguru, go and get some for the both of us!”

when you get up into geto’s room, you try to disregard the slew of people strung out in different rooms across the house. but geto was confident, he had no reason not to be with you in his arms, wanting him just as badly as he wants you.

“c’mere,” he beckons you, as he sits down, patting down his thigh. you happily skip over to him, perching yourself right on his thigh, your arms hooking around his neck, your hands clasping together, locking him in. you face inches closer to his, your lips part ready to taste him but he halts you, smirking as he says “you're cute, y’know that right?”

“how so?” you ask, entertaining him with an eye roll.

“you always sit in class with me, trying to act all bothered by my presence,” he comments, “but turns out all it takes is for you to come to one of my parties, and for you to dance with me, to get you cumming in my lap… literally.”

“are we gonna fuck?” you say bluntly, catching him off guard, “or are you gonna continue to talk nonsense.” even though he wasn’t talking nonsense, he was right, tonight really did change your perspective on geto. but you weren’t dumb he was the president of the frat, and his best friend gojo’s comments earlier only further cemented the type of people frat guys are.

you press your lips against his before he has a chance to respond, your tongue darting in his mouth as he moulds into you. one of his hands works its way down your body whilst the other stays caressing your face. you groan against him, driving yourself against his thigh, your clothed cunt, already dripping just from the friction alone. 

“you getting off on my thigh yeah?” he teases between kisses, and you nod, desperately pushing yourself into him. he hikes you up further, his lips still moving in tandem with yours, and he spreads you into lap so you could properly straddle him. you both had quick movements, both of you are needy and wanting of the other. geto’s hands slide down your back and keep your ass in a firm hold as you begin to rock against him.

geto pulls away from you, his lips already plump from the way you’ve been gnawing at them. you pout at the removal but he laughs, “patience, princess.” but you ignore him your hands darting into his pants, ready to free his dick and land it, but he places his hand on your wrist, his eyebrows raising in warning, “what did i just say?”

“to take out your dick and sit on it right?” you shrug coyly, chuckling at your joke, and he smiles, but the warning in his eyes doesn’t leave.

“strip,” he commands, the single word having you folding like a chair, as you fling off your clothes leaving you in your underwear. he pulls you by the waistband of you panties, ripping them off you in one swift motion, biting his lip as he’s met with your wet pussy. “she’s so pretty,” he comments, flicking at your clit and as he slides his finger down your slit, just about to enter he pauses, putting his finger in his mouth instead of in you. he swirls it around his tongue, “sweet.”

“suguru,” you whine, at his teasing, “this isn’t funny.”

“play with yourself,” he says, disregarding whatever you were saying.

“what happened to you giving me a good time,” you argue.

“c’mon show me how bad you want it,” he persuades with a grin, leaning back, waiting for you to put on a show for him, “i’ll make it worth your while.”

despite everything, you could just never tell geto, no. it’s the way he looks at you, the way he talks to you, how he carries himself. with how he is just leaning back in his bed, his eyes low in anticipation as he waits for you to pleasure yourself for him, exciting you to do whatever he wants.

your hand works its way down to your pussy, your thumb landing on your clit rubbing against it as your finger part your sobbing cunt, letting geto see how wet you really are for him. “f-fuck,” you moan out, as you push your fingers inside of you, your eyes clenching shut at the contact.

“oi,” geto calls out to you, your eyes opening and landing on him, “keep your eyes on me. okay?” and you nod, as you quicken your pace, watching as geto palms his dick at your performance.

“this is boring,” you complain as you continue to rub at your pussy, trying your best to reach your climax on your own, “need your fingers, need your di—”

“keep going,” he orders, smirking, he could tell by the way your stance weakens and your legs tremble, that you were close. you were predictable and even though you were hungry for his dick, he knew you’d be able to cum with just your fingers and his eyes on you. call him cocky, but the influence he had over you was unmatched.

you roll your eyes at him, but you listen, continuing to finger yourself as he told you. your mouth parts, and you exhale feeling yourself about to cum, you push your digits in you harder, and your eyes stay fixated on geto and he shrugs his shoulders letting you do as you please—for once. you moan loudly as you cum all over your fingers, releasing hard as you spill out all down your thighs.

“see wasn’t so hard was it?” he taunts, pulling out his dick that has been hard from the moment he saw you at the party. he gives it a few strokes, pre cum oozing from the tip and you hungrily pounce on him, your pussy still dripping with your cum as you hover over his dick. you pause before sliding down on him, hissing at the feeling of you stretching you wide. “fuck man,” he groans out as he feels you clench over him, “your shit’s so tight.”

you bounce up and down on him, as he thrusts up into you, his hips hitting yours in a hard flurry of repeated connections. you press your hands flat on his chest, as his hands stay cupping your ass, keeping you upright as he drills into you.

his pace is unmatched, as you try and keep up, grinding your pussy down on him, desperate to have him stuff you up even more. “sugu ‘ts too much, f-fuck you’re relentless.”

“c-cant help it,” he stammers, still maintaining his merciless strokes, his dick twitching inside of you, “your pussy is just too good, or should i say my pussy,” he finishes with a wink. 

“y-your pussy?” you retort, laughing at his seriousness.

“yeah it’s mine right?” he interrogates, sending a slap to your ass to prompt further confirmation, “tell me it’s mine.” you don’t respond, a teasing smile spreading across your face, as you stare down at him, still riding his dick. but geto pauses, halting your movements and he slightly eases you up off of his dick, “what was that?” he prompts.

“it’s yours,” you give in quickly, not even bothering to entertain it any further with how needy you are to cum, “of course it's yours.” satisfied, geto charges his dick back into you with no warning, and you immediately go back to pushing your ass down on him, spreading your legs wider to straddle him more, taking him in deeper.

“t-that’s all i needed to hear,” he stutters, feeling himself about to cum, so he gives you a few sloppy thrusts before easing you off of him, cumming all over your stomach. you're quick to follow, your cum spraying his sheets, as you slump over him, dripping down on his body. “i made sure to not cum in you this time, i know how angsty you get over that shi.”

“oh how gentlemanly of you,” you deadpan, “all gives love a stomach covered in salt and semen.”

“well what would you prefer? your pussy filled with my cum,” he taunts, smirking as you still, “i know i would.” you didn’t answer pulling your sticky body away from his, as you come down off of your high.

“are you gonna stay the night?” geto asks with a grin it was like clockwork, everytime you finish fucking he’d always ask the same question, never getting bored when you mutter the same tired words.

“you know i don’t sleep in frat houses suguru.”

he shrugs casually, propping himself up on his elbows and admiring your naked figure. "you fuck in them though," he remarks, as if that justified everything, "so what's the difference?"

rolling your eyes, as you begin to do the laborious task of trying to locate your underwear—geto always had the habit of throwing them across the room. "the difference is," you pause, looking over your shoulder at him, "I can wake up tomorrow in my own bed, feeling just a little less gross for even fucking you in the first place."

a mock expression of hurt crosses his face as he crawls up behind you on the bed, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. "oh, how you wound me, princess," he coos, his breath sending shivers down your spine, "just stay."

“no, i shouldn’t” you argue, letting out an exhale as his lips attach to your collarbone, sucking against your skin, pulling and nipping at it with his teeth. 

you try to distract yourself by putting on your bra but geto is quick to fling it off you, his mouth trailing down to your tits peppering kisses all over your nipples, murmuring “stay” between each kiss. 

he takes your boob into his mouth, sucking on its flesh as his other hand toys with the other, massaging your nipples with just enough roughness to have you writhing in his palms. your back arches involuntarily, your tits pushing further into his touch, aching to feel him further, “see,” he smirks as he toys with you, “you do wanna stay.”

“i won’t, if you keep talking” you warn, gritting your teeth as he pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. “now c’mere, convince me on why i should stay,” you lift his head off your tits with your fingers, eyeing him down as he stares back at you with pure lust in his eyes. you press a kiss to his lips before steering his head down towards your pussy.

“since when do you run things?” he doesn’t budge, his eyebrows slightly raise as he chuckles.

“you’re the one that wants me to stay, no?” you counter, your eyes locked with his.

“well what i want is for you to come sit on my face and my head can stay sandwiched between your thighs, how about that?” his grin widens as your mouth parts, speechless. he tugs you by the arm close to the head of the bed, you climb up his body your pussy still wet from he fucked you before, leaking out your juices all over his chest. “so hop on girl, a man’s gotta eat,” he mutters impatiently, smacking your ass to urge you onto his lips.

he takes you in hungrily, his mouth enclosing on your pussy with such greed that he is practically drowning in your scent. he laps at your cunt, his tongue giving such long, deep strokes which have your hands pressing against the walls, grinding down on his face. 

geto grips and claws at your ass, he grins, his nose burying into your pussy as your thighs clench tighter around his head. “s-sshit suguru,” your hands slap against the wall as you squeal out, trying to grasp at something to keep you afloat, as the way geto is working your pussy and how his fingers dig into your ass cheeks, has you buckling over about to topple off of him. 

he hums against your pussy, the vibrations jolting right through you, having you moan even louder. his tongue darts against your clit, swirling at it vigorously, nipping at it lightly with his teeth. 

“sugu i—” you pant, trying to ease off of him, the pleasure getting too much for you, but his hands stroke both your thighs keeping them in place. “bout to cum sugu.”

you could hear him mumble something, you didn’t care what, but the two taps he gave to your thigh let you know you could release all over him. you cry out as you cum, feeling yourself spill out all over his face. geto continues to eat you up, drinking in everything he can take, his chin getting covered by what he couldn’t swallow.

 “you are way too good at that.” you gasp as you slowly come up off his face, your breathing still laboured.

“only the best for you princess,” he jests with his eyes half open, a blissful smile on his lips as his tongue swipes at the remains of you left on his face.

“yeah me and all the other freshmen you fuck,” you mutter, to yourself but he heard you loud and clear.

“what was that?” he urges, wanting you to repeat your claims. before you started fucking geto, you knew he was and what he was about and technically you didn’t care, you only wanted him for his mouth game—which proved to be very useful. but when he tries to sweet talk you you couldn’t help but be reminded of what kind of guy he is.

“i think you heard me,” you shrug, “i’m saying it to insult you or anything, i'm just telling the truth. you like to fuck everbody and everything.”

“wait? is this why you won’t stay the night?” he says, sitting up, staring you down. 

“you must be only a pretty face, if you thought otherwise,” you laugh at his shock.

“no it’s just i think its crazy that you just won’t stay,” he complains, glaring at you as you put back on your clothes, “we could get to know each other properly.”

“like we agreed when we first started messing around,” you cringe, pitying the pouty look on his face. “let’s just… keep this casual”

“but that was ages ago,” he tries to reason, “some may say you’re just using me for sex.”

“suguru we use each other for sex,” you respond quickly, you step towards him pressing a peck on his pouty lips, with a smirk on your face as you see his lips chasing yours as you pull away, “well i'm gonna go now, i’m sure i’ll see you at one of your many lame parties you and your people always throw. it’s been fun as always” geto raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement, blowing out a hard breath, as he watches you strut out of his bedroom.

“she’ll stay the night eventually.” he murmurs to himself, maybe it’s wishful thinking, but a guy can dream.

AN: she’s only gone and done it. but yeah how was it guys 🥺? There’s only two lines in this whole fic that I actually thought “damn I cooked here” if you guess the lines you win a reward. ALSO IDK WHY I WAS DROPPING HINTS AT SOME GOJO ON SOME MR STEAL UR GIRL TYPE SHIT but I just went with it. But geto is sooo sweet HE JUST WANTS U TO STAY and you don’t even fuckinnn stay 😭😭 looool aren’t u mean. Technically I wrote the fic backwards it was meant to start with the “r u gonna stay the night” AND then gojo and geto would have a a conversation about you AND the it would end w the party and u tucking but I wanted to keep if one continuous flow and ANYWAYS this an is becoming a diary entry so LMK UR THOUGHTS PLEASE CAUSE THIS HAD ME STRETCHED

[asha-mage]

I've been thinking about this post ever since I saw it a few days ago and it made me realize that this trend is in part, a result of our society as a whole deciding that wanting power or to be special is an inherently villainous trait, or at least an unsympathetic one.

Because the thing about being born special is that it's not a choice the character made. It's something that happened to them, and it is also inescapable and immutable. A character who is born special, born to be a hero, gets to resist and be reluctant and struggle against Specialiness. They get to lament how much their kick ass powers complicate their life, and how much they wish they could just go to normal school dances instead of God-Fairy mixers. They can prove to the audience again and again that they don't really want to be Special, and given the choice they would be anything but Special. Their are other ways to get a character in this situation (usually prophecies, happenstance, or just being chosen by some organization or individual who doesn't give them a say in their Specializes), but being born Special is just easier to write, and also usually gets combined with the others anyways.

But on the flip side someone who picks up a Special Item or works to be Special is committing a grievous sin: the pursuit of power and the conscious rejection of being Normal. If they could choose not to do the thing, or to put the item down, then they are an active agent in their own pursuit of Specialness, and society has trained us to think That Is Wrong. The unspoken implication is that any character who would choose power and Specialness is throwing away a more pure, simple, better existence in the name of their own desires, which is Bad. Only Bad Guys want power. Bad guys are greedy, grasping, discontent, and arrogant enough to think they deserve power and Specialness. If power corrupts, then those who seek it out are surely already inherently corrupt in some innate fashion, and thus at best unsympathetic.

But if the character is born special the audience has permission not to judge them. Having a normal/simple life is not an option, so we don't think less of them for not choosing that. We can't. As a result the character doesn't have to feel guilty about being a mermaid king, or a mega wizard, or a half angel or whatever, and that means the audience doesn't have to feel guilty for rooting them.

rudolph the red nosed reindeer

[rafecameronssl4t]

Business Talk || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: You listening to Rafe and Barry talk business on his yacht. (s3 ep6 inspired)

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, idk if theres anything else lmk

Word count: 1,323

A/n: another canon fic because im obsessed with writing these 😖 pls send me canon fic requests 🙏🙏

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

"Oh my God!" Barry yells out as you hastily pull away from Rafe, who groans in frustration, "Fuck, I thought we had more time." His head drops, leaning on your bare stomach, and you can't help but giggle as you reach over for your cover-up. Rafe sighs heavily, adjusting his pants with an annoyed expression.

"Damn, Rafe. Come on, Country Club," Barry calls out, his voice echoing through the boat as he makes his way upstairs to the top deck. "Bro, how are you gonna have this and not even tell me!" When he reaches the final step, he notices you lounging on one of the sofas, looking perfectly composed. You give him a warm smile. "Hey, Barry," you greet him politely.

"Princess," he says with a playful bow, making you giggle at his exaggerated behavior. He then turns back to Rafe, who is still frowning. "You got a whole damn YMCA up on this bitch, dude," Barry exclaims, his eyes darting around the luxurious boat. You sip your drink, watching Barry's antics with amusement.

"Barry, shut up, yeah?" Rafe shouts at him, clearly fed up with Barry's incessant chatter about the boat. Barry throws up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, we need to make a move," Rafe walks over to his shirt and puts it on. "That's all we do, bro. We been making moves. Haven't we, y/n?" Barry glances at you as you watch the two talk business.

"Yeah, well, we don't have much time," Rafe says, his tone serious as he walks over to you and holds out his hand. You look at his hand for a moment before meeting his intense gaze. "Yo, come down here," Rafe says to Barry, jerking his head toward the stairs.

You take Rafe's hand as he leads you toward the stairs, your fingers still interlocked. Barry follows behind, curiosity piqued. "You're not gonna believe this shit," Rafe mutters, his voice low and intense.

As you descend to the bottom deck, Rafe's focus remains unshaken. "You seen any buyers?" he calls out, his mind clearly on the gold. Barry, now settling down on the couch beside you, responds with a chuckle, "It's always business with you, bro. I mean, I don't always live like this." You kick your feet up on the table, relaxing as Rafe heads to the fridge. He rummages through its contents, finally emerging with a few beers and your favorite drink.

"I'm just saying we need to take this shit seriously," Rafe insists, his tone carrying a sense of urgency. He opens your drink with a swift motion and hands it to you, his eyes meeting yours briefly. "Thanks," you reply softly, appreciating the small gesture. Barry observes the interaction with a raised eyebrow, then looks between you and Rafe with a smirk. "What? No princess treatment for me either?" he teases, pouting playfully at Rafe who rolls his eyes, “Get fucked.”

Barry clinks bottles with you after opening his beer, taking a swig and letting out a satisfied sigh. Moments later, Rafe returns, carrying a sleek black briefcase which he places on the table in front of Barry. You quickly adjust your feet as Barry's eyes widen in awe at the contents revealed inside. Your gaze meets Rafe's briefly before you lean forward, curiosity piqued.

"I should get a tooth made out of this, huh?" Barry quips, holding up a gleaming gold bar, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. You struggle to suppress a smile. "Look, don't be touching the shit. Just put it back," Rafe commands sternly, shooting Barry a look of irritation.

"Man, you're so paranoid. How do you put up with this shit, y/n?" Barry says, turning to you as he carefully replaces the gold bar. Rafe, exuding impatience, retorts, "I don't care about the cross. I'm trying to make money." He sits beside you, gently shifting your legs so they rest comfortably on his lap.

"I told you, my aunt, she got some contacts. She gonna help us move these little bitches," Barry reassures Rafe. Distracted by a sudden splash from the water nearby, you turn your head instinctively. Rafe notices your reaction immediately. "What is it?" he asks, concern threading through his voice. You rise from the couch, taking your sunglasses off as you move towards the edge to peer down at the water.

"Nothin'. Thought I heard something," you shrug, slipping on your sunglasses before returning to the sofa. "The gems, the nuggets, the whole damn melted enchilada!" Barry rambles on, his enthusiasm undeterred. "These gems are mint, man. The gold's bullion. We're selling it in bars, right? I'm not dealing with some half-assed pogue shit with some reject from Zales, bro."

Rafe's voice cuts through Barry's excitement, firm and cold. "Hey, watch how you're speaking about my aunt, dog," Barry retorts, scoffing. Rafe's hands, tense with stress, had already begun their way down your thighs, gripping them unconsciously. It was a telltale sign of his annoyance.

"I'm not talking about your aunt. I'm just saying, I don't fucking trust my shit with pogues," Rafe shrugs dismissively as you absentmindedly play with his rings.

Suddenly, your phone dings with a text message. Rafe leans over, grabbing your phone to hand it to you. Their chatter fades into the background as you focus on the message from your friend.

"Who is it, baby?" Rafe asks, removing his sunglasses as you show him your phone, reading the etext. "Barry, you gotta go, man," he says, watching you rise from the couch and slip off your cover-up.

"What? Why?" Barry protests, glancing between you and Rafe with confusion. Rafe sighs, his patience thinning. "Y/N's having her friends over for a girl’s day on the boat." Barry's eyes dart to you as you smile and nod. "That right? And I wasn't invited?" he says with mock offense, making you laugh.

"Next time, for sure," you assure him, still chuckling. Rafe, eager to get Barry off the boat, pats him on the back. "All right, time for you to go, bro. Good to see ya." "All right, all right, I'm going!" Barry concedes, standing up and making his way to the edge of the boat. "You have fun, Y/N!" he calls out, waving. "Bye, Barry!" you wave back with a smile.

As Barry leaves, Rafe's hands find your hips, fingers playfully tugging at the strings of your bikini bottoms. "Rafe!" you exclaim, swatting his hands away and retying the strings. "They'll be here soon." Rafe groans, "Why am I being cockblocked all day today." You smirk up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him in, "Later, I promise."

[cheyisagirlkisser]

so i don’t really know how the hex-strap would work but im thinking about reader stealing one from piltover and then asking vi to try it out on her

CONTENT: Hex-strap use (R! receiving), idk what else to say for this one Vi just gives you good dick with the hex-strap

"How the fuck is that supposed to fit inside of you?" Vi sounds genuinely worried. To be fair, the blue-tinted silicone is on the larger side of toys, and it's more girthy than anything else you've taken.

"Lube and prayers," You shrug and fail to hold back laughter watching Vi clumsily tie the harness around her hips, her eyes gazing down to gawk at the the sight she has tied to her torso.

You don't know how you even found such an item, but it wasn't intentional. You only went to Piltover to steal some pearls from the snooty rich people, not scavenge around for a dildo. Still, when you first laid eyes upon the thing, you had to take it.

You and Vi are already pretty experimental in the bedroom, from vibrating bullets to handcuffs and a variety of kinks (some were no-goes, others are now a regular part of your bedroom activities), but nothing could've prepared either of you for this. Still, naturally, your first instinct was to imagine getting fucked with it. Of course, you had to bring it to Vi and try it out.

The dildo itself was not hex-tech powered, but only blue to compliment the gemstones decorating the harness. You don't know if the tiny gems will even actually affect the experience or if it's just for show like what half of the luxury items in Piltover are for. Still, it looks pretty cool.

You plop down onto the bed, sliding a pillow underneath yourself to prepare for the stretch. Vi's busy rubbing lube over the silicone and you notice how it seems to glow a bright blue hue at the warmth of her hand. You can't tell if that's a good or bad sign. Eventually, Vi is between your legs and tapping your clit with the tip of the dick, making you shudder just feeling how wide it is.

"Are you sure you don't want to just take my fingers first-"

"Seriously, Vi.. I'll be fine. I'll tell you if it hurts."

And with that, she sighs and slides the head into your slippery hole, and you already know you're a goner.

The fit is tight. Vi groans as you squirm and gasp, obviously affected by the size. You look like a fucking goddess with curved lips and warm cheeks, hair all messy on the pillow as she tries to slowly ease the cock into your tight pussy. The resistance is great.

"Gotta relax, babe." You whine at the way she sounds, so comforting and yet so firm. You're being more needy than usual. You don't know what it is, but it can't just be the size. Your walls feel completely stretched, and it should hurt more, but all you feel is a weird inexplicable pleasure blossoming in your body. You don't even protest anymore as she bottoms out.

Vi observes your face for pain, but she can't exactly tell what you're feeling. Your pussy is definitely clamping down onto the cock, cause she can hardly pull out to slam back into you. She should be worried with the way your face shifts into something unrecognizable, but she just can't. It's addictive, and you're grateful when she begins to fuck into you.

And then the gems start to glow. The stones embedded into the harness light up as the silicone itself flares a deep, bright blue. It's not just your g-spot being kissed, but your entire pussy is heating up each time she slams back into you, making you nearly lose all train of thought, practically screaming with each thrust she deals your pussy.

Vi can't help but marvel at the sight; it's unlike anything she has ever seen before, your face all twisted up with almost unbearable pleasure, glowing emitting between your bodies, it makes her dizzy as if she's the one feeling it. She's pounding into you now as you intensely grip the sheets, a foreign yet familiar closeness beginning to overtake you. Your orgasm is close, but it's stronger than anything you've ever been given before.

One particular thrust sends you barreling toward your climax, your bark arching so hard it almost hurts. Vi doesn't stop, continuing to fuck steady thrusts into your pussy to watch the glowing blue plastic disappear past your folds. She wishes to see it from the inside. She's never seen you like this before, tears streaming down your face and sweet, pleasure-filled whines spilling past your lips. Your whole body is quivering, jolting with each wave until you finally come down.

"Holy shit.. you are you okay?" Vi asks you when your eyes finally meet hers.

You let out a labored gasp. "That was.. the best orgasm I've ever had. It felt like I was almost dying for a second there."

Vi's eyes widen at that. She doesn't know if she should be happy for you or concerned. "In a good way?"

"I'm not sure yet.. but it was intense. You should let me try it on you now."

Vi laughs at that. "You know what, sure."

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i'm addicted to the ' if only '

♡ a/n — for a new childhood friends to lovers series :) a little shorter than i wanted but yk

♡ word count — 1.1k

♡ content — sae itoshi x gn! reader, gn! reader, childhood friends to lovers, sae and reader are the " sit by this quiet kid so they rub off on you " kids i fear, mentions of sae going to spain, starts when they're in 5th grade ( does japan do elementary grades like that? idk. ) and goes all the way to the U-20 game, wrote this at midnight so sorry if it's confusing

♡ synopsis — From the moment Sae Itoshi said he loved you, you were his. The long-distance relationship wasn’t easy, but it didn’t matter. You had Sae, and that was enough. He was all you needed after all.

You met Sae Itoshi when you were ten, in the fifth grade. You were the loud one, always raising your hand to answer questions, always running up to classmates to start games during recess. Sae, on the other hand, was quiet. His answers were sharp, direct, and to the point. He preferred to sit at the edge of the classroom, observing rather than participating.

When the teacher paired the two of you together for a science project, you knew immediately that this was going to be difficult.

"Can’t you just sit still for five minutes?" Sae asked, an exasperated edge to his voice as you twirled around with the sheet of paper that was supposed to outline your project plan.

"Nope!" you said with a grin. "Sitting still is boring."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re impossible."

You should’ve hated him. He made it clear he found you irritating, and you had no interest in someone who acted like they were better than everyone else. But there was something about Sae that intrigued you—maybe it was the calmness that always seemed to settle around him, or the way he never tried to impress anyone.

To your surprise, by the time the project ended, he hadn’t abandoned you. Instead, he’d begrudgingly started helping you organize your thoughts, muttering under his breath every time you got distracted but staying by your side nonetheless.

Halfway through the school year, he stopped rolling his eyes when you dragged him outside to play soccer after school.

By the end of the year, you were spending every recess together. You teased him endlessly, calling him your best friend, even though he would only shrug in response.

But he never corrected you.

It wasn’t until you were twelve that you realized how much Sae had become a part of your life.

He wasn’t just your best friend—he was your favorite person. He was there for everything, from the boring group projects to the secret candy stash you shared during recess. He wasn’t just the quiet boy in the corner anymore. He was Sae, the person who made your days brighter without even trying.

One day, when you were both at the park, it hit you.

He was practicing soccer, as always. The golden light of the setting sun bathed his figure, making him look almost ethereal. He didn’t notice the way you were staring, too focused on juggling the ball with practiced ease.

You didn’t understand it then, but something inside you shifted. You found yourself watching him more closely, noticing the way his expression softened when he talked about soccer, the way he always let you have the last piece of candy, even though he’d complain about it afterward.

You liked him.

The realization was terrifying, but you pushed it down. Sae was your best friend, and you didn’t want to ruin that.

When Sae told you he’d been scouted to train in Spain, you didn’t know how to react.

You were happy for him—of course you were. Soccer was his dream, and this was everything he had ever wanted. But as you stood in the airport, watching him get ready to board his flight, all you could think about was how much you were going to miss him.

"Don’t cry," he said, his voice steady. He stood in front of you, his suitcase at his side, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked so calm, so sure of himself, that it almost made you angry.

"I’m not crying," you lied, blinking furiously.

Sae’s gaze softened, just for a moment. "You’ll be fine without me," he said. "You always are."

But you weren’t.

High school was different without Sae.

The loud, hyper child you used to be was gone, replaced by someone quieter, someone who didn’t raise their hand as much in class or run around during lunch breaks. The hole Sae left behind was too big to fill, and you didn’t know how to be yourself without him by your side.

But at night, when your phone buzzed with his Facetime calls, everything felt okay again.

When you were fifteen, one of those calls changed everything.

You were sitting on your bed, rambling about your day, filling the silence with every little detail you could think of. Sae’s face on the screen was calm, as always, but there was something different about his expression.

"I love you," he said suddenly, cutting you off mid-sentence.

Your heart stopped.

"What?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I love you," he repeated, his tone steady, like he had been waiting to say it for a long time. "I’ve loved you for a while."

Tears welled up in your eyes. "I love you too," you said, your voice trembling.

From that moment on, you were his. The long-distance relationship wasn’t easy, but it didn’t matter. You had Sae, and that was enough.

When you were seventeen, everything started to fall apart.

Sae’s texts became shorter, his calls less frequent. You told yourself it was because he was busy—Spain was demanding, and soccer always came first for him. But the doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

One night, he called you.

You were so excited to hear from him that you didn’t notice the tension in his voice. You launched into your day, telling him about school, your friends, everything he had missed. He stayed silent until you finally asked, "Sae? Are you still there?"

"I’m here," he said. His tone was cold, unfamiliar. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Your stomach twisted. "What is it?"

"You’re a bother," he said, his voice flat. "We should break up."

The words didn’t register at first.

"What?" you whispered, your voice shaking. "Sae, what are you talking about?"

"You’re holding me back," he said, his tone as sharp as a blade. "I don’t have time for this anymore."

And just like that, the boy you'd grown to love - your best friend - was gone.

A year later, Sae returned to Japan for the U-20 vs. Blue Lock match.

You hadn’t heard from him since the breakup. Not a single text, not a single call. But even after everything, you couldn’t help but hope. He was still your best friend… right?

You looked for him everywhere—in the streets you used to walk together, in the soccer fields where he used to practice. But he was never there.

The night of the game, you sat alone in your room, watching him on the TV.

He was brilliant. Every move, every goal, was flawless. The Sae on the screen was a stranger, a far cry from the boy who used to roll his eyes at your jokes and share his candy with you.

It doesn’t feel right, you thought, not knowing the Sae that’s out there, shining so brightly.

And maybe, you realized, you never would.

no one said all of these had to be happy. childhood best friends to lovers to strangers anyone ?

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[jaggedamethyst]

clandestine

viktor (arcane) x stripper f!reader

pairing: viktor (arcane) x f!reader

content: 18+ minors dni, smut, not thigh but lap riding, strip club obviously, some cursing, porn some plot idk, established relationship, secret relationship, not proofread

notes: i am not personally a stripper, but I have somehow seen a lot of movies and youtube vloggers explaining the culture and mindset they have…about doing this to get them to a next phase of their life. some people may not feel that way at all, and just do it to feel empowered….or literally just because its a job. no reason is more valued than the other, and I hope I did this justice because I have the utmost respect for every job. please let me know if anything isn’t hitting the way it should in that regard and i will make the edits <3

also, not an au… this was kinda inspired by lest. idk if it was ever confirmed, but the character kinda reads to me as a sex worker and I do love that. normalize including those stories in media.

word count: 2.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Stepping into the building always felt particularly specific for Viktor. The music was melodic but slightly too loud. Flashing lights almost always sent him off balance, leaning into his cane. A vibration pulsed—bouncing off every wall hard enough to make him physically swat the feeling away with his head. Yet, whenever he’d find his seat and glance across the room—all of it faded away.

Had there not been a physical spotlight, Viktor could still find you a mile away. He was completely entranced, mesmerized by the way you moved—even more so by the fact that it was an act. You were sweet, saccharine even, and you never showed it. That side was all for him. Only him.

When you were at the club, there was a veil over you—projecting a unique exterior. Dancing allowed you to disconnect and channel an identity you didn’t in everyday life. Often, you were misunderstood. Even more common was for you to be ignored—it wasn’t like that at work. You were respected and held at the same regard as everyone else. There were rules, and everyone followed them. You were an equal and you appreciated that.

Regardless of that feeling on stage, the money was also damn good. You grew up in the Undercity and you knew what it was like to have nothing. This fact was something you and Viktor bonded over initially. Later, both of your intellect and fondness for academics. He empathized, too, with you having no family…even more the fact that you started this venture to pay for your studies. That’s how the two of you found yourself dating. There was an unwavering kindness about Viktor, you loved that. The secrecy made every interaction all the more interesting, especially in the confines of the Piltover club.

The shift started like any other. You were on stage, moving to the rhythm of your song, Lest in your peripheral. You’d often recall how she was the first person to make you feel truly comfortable. She’d linger during your sets, calling security when needed, even speaking up for you when she realized you couldn’t. Lest gave you the push to take control, and the money really showed it.

You glanced down a bit, seeing some of your money get swept to the side. Lest had your labeled basket in her hands, grabbing some out of the way for you. In that split second, you saw a glint toward the back corner. You smirked, seeing your boyfriend spread on a chair—observing you through low eyes. You sped your tempo up, the stage now cleared enough for you.

Viktor noticed your arched a brow and stifled a chuckle. As you picked up the pace, he leaned back more comfortably in the chair. A hand held onto his cane, knuckles paling at the forceful grip. His other hand rested on the chair. His legs spread entirely, something he knew you loved. He was locked in, eyes roaming over every inch of your body as you danced. Your back was to him, then, ass shaking seductively in a way he’d always appreciated. You bent simultaneously, making a show of your legs before dropping into a split. You rolled your neck, looking toward Viktor. He watched your hand trace over your leg before tapping on it twice with a smile.

You’d definitely seen him back there.

Lest gave a knowing smirk, nodding over her shoulder “I see you spotted your regular.”

“Sure did.” You laughed at that, swinging your legs around. “It’s gonna be a fun night.”

“Oh I can tell.”

Lest didn’t know the two of you were dating, nobody did. That was the allure. Viktor could be the “regular” who showed up and dotted on you while you played the helpless stripper who so desperately needed his money. Neither were true, except that Viktor did love to spend his money on you.

Lest spoke up again, “You should head back there, before he gets restless…you know how they are.”

You moved to stand, doing a final spin and wave to the audience. “You’re right…can’t miss out on the money.”

“Exactly.” You moved to help add the rest of your money to the basket, Lest gripping it for dear life. “I’ll put this in the usual spot. We can do count after you rake in the big bucks.”

You high-fived Lest, watching as she turned immediately. You turned away, too, knowing that the chance of any of your money being taken was close to zero. You’d trust her with your life—so much so that you often debated telling her more about yourself outside of the club. Part of you figured she knew about your relationship and just played along. The thought of that made you love her friendship even more.

There was a drag in your step. You purposely made your strides slow as you inched toward the corner Viktor had chosen for tonight. His eyes had yet to leave you, but his free hand circled the arm rest. He was pent up, which was perfect, you thought.

He watched as you finally reached him, standing over his seated figure with your hands on your hips. You spoke first, yelling a bit over the music. “Funny seeing you here.”

He played along, eyes raking over your body. “I frequent here relatively often, do I not?”

You shrugged, looking away, “One could say that.”

He smiled, moving to stand up. You were a bit shorter than him, but slightly taller now thanks to your heels. He glanced down at them in adoration, loving the feeling of looking up at you. “You were stellar, love.”

You raised your head, flicking your hair. “Thank you, baby.” Your eyes lingered on one another, the genuine feeling of affection sitting between you both. Leaning down to whisper in his ear, you broke that sweet feeling. You played to his true intention; you knew why he was here. “Wanna go somewhere more private?” You let your lips linger for a second, hands coming up to rub his neck and behind his ears with your thumbs. “I know a place.”

He watched you pull back, looking up through his lashes. The smile on your face absolutely melted him. He reached down, slowly searching his pocket. He flipped up a bill that was settled between two fingers. “Lead the way.”

You plucked the money from him and grasped his now empty hand. The exchange had its own unspoken rules—Viktor would always pay, you would let him. The inherently degrading nature never found its way to your relationship but was instead a way to keep up appearances. For Viktor, it was yet another way to show his love for you. He’d give it all if he could—you deserved it.

He followed you, stalking behind your enticing figure. You’d shift every so often, your reflection moving with the tone of the lights. The sound reverberated off of you both, pulsing between your interlocked fingers. The bass slowly faded as you walked down the long hallway, even more so as you entered the secluded room.

The lights were low, a quiet music lulling in the room. Candles lit the area and added a hint of vanilla to the air Viktor appreciated—it smelled like you. He closed his eyes at the thought, enveloped by the scent and feeling of your skin on his palm. You glanced up, observing that the light on the cameras had been switched off. You huffed gratefully, knowing you had to thank Lest again later.

Viktor felt the pull of your hands and mindlessly followed until his back met the couch. He cleared his throat, looking over to you beside him. “So,” he paused, “How was your day?”

“Do you actually want to know how my day was?” You pursed your lips, sarcasm riddled all over them. “Or are you just indulging me so you seem like a gentleman?”

Viktor was frazzled at that, “What? No…” He brushed a hand to move his hair out of his face, “No! I would like to know-“

A kiss to his cheek interrupted him, “I know.” You nodded slowly. “But you should just ask for what you really want…I’m a busy woman after all.”

The flicker in his eye was one you genuinely loved—the switch from caring boyfriend to infatuated client.

“And what is it you think I want?” A hand brushed over your cheek, his thumb slowly finding its way to your lips. He looked down, rubbing his fingers across your skin.

You reached down, then, a hand firmly landing on his thigh. You maintained eye contact as you spoke—sliding a hand further up his leg. “I think I have a pretty good idea…”

“Is that so?” Viktor leaned back further to adjust his lap and purposely push his hardened length into your palm.

The two of you leaned in closer, the pull of each other undeniable. Slowly, your lips collided. There was an urgency, yet neither of you acted on it—an attempt to savor the moment. You maneuvered then, lips still connected. Viktor hummed against your mouth—a sound that left you smiling as you pushed a leg over his lap.

The once soft push of your lips together was now bordering on frantic. Every so often, Viktor would move to pull and suck on one of your lips—urging you on. You were lost in the motion—in him. Your hands snaked up the back of his neck and tangled with the hair at the base of his neck. With a forceful tug, you pulled him back. He was looking at you now, face flushed and lips completely swollen and glistening. Looking at him this way already had your underwear dampening. You refused to break eye contact, lowering yourself just on top of Viktor. Sucking in a breath, he tilted his head back—leaning into the couch cushion.

You began to circle your hips. The friction of the restrained material had you feral. “Fuck…” You continued, slowly circling and moving up and down his erection. “Fuck, Viktor.”

He matched you motion suddenly, circling his hips up into you. The motion had your insides pulsing. You couldn’t keep up the act, leaning down into the warmth of his neck. You felt him kiss and suck on your neck. He trailed kisses up and around your ear—moving around your hairline. His hands found your back, pulling you into him even more. Erratic breaths filled the room. All that was missing, you thought, were the lewd sounds of slapping you so desired. You’d give anything to be fully naked right now, letting him work all over you. But there was no time. The thought only spurred you on.

He spoke suddenly, “I needed this.”

“I know,” You push and pull into him faster, “Me too.”

The fabric barrier between the two of you was soaked now, a mixture of both of you. You slid back a bit, arms length distance away from Viktor. His mouth was agape from the lack of sensation, but quickly lost any will to argue when you began to swirl on his tip. He was always so sensitive there—and you were close. The rubbing on your clit had your breath shallow, your motions less rhythmic. He noticed, grabbing your waist to guide you to a speed that had both of your eyes rolling back.

“I’m close….”

Viktor pulled you into a kiss and mumbled into your mouth. “I am too.”

With a few more pumps against each other, you were finishing all over each other’s clothes. You accidentally broke the kiss, gasping for the breath that escaped you at the burning sensation in your body. Viktor didn’t stop, though, pulling you in impossibly closer. He worked the both of you through, choking out a whine as he shot out ropes into his pants.

The two of you sat there, embracing each other for a while. The feeling of each other was enough in the moment—drowning out the sensory overload of the club. Your finger tips traced over his features. You smoothed over his brows, the moles by his eye and lip, the divets in his cheekbones. He was entirely mesmerized by you—a devotion all over his face.

Light taps at the door broke the moment. You knew it would be Lest; she’d often drop by when you took a bit longer than management would like for just one customer. Opening the door a crack, you saw a pile there—a change of clothes for you and a smaller hand towel. You scooped them up quickly, moving back into the room.

Viktor was still watching you, a hand finding its way back to his cane. His grasp wasn’t as tight as before, you smiled to yourself at that.

You stripped quickly, moving to clean yourself and change your clothes. “Missed you today.”

Viktor pushed himself forward in the seat. “And I, you.” He staggered over to you, a hand pushing in and out of his pocket. He held up a bill again, “We should do this again sometime.”

A small chuckle escaped you. “Sure, baby.” You pecked a kiss on his cheek as he walked by you. “I’ll see you at home.”

[fear-less]

pls i need harry content 😭

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 he's like a poem I wish I wrote

pairing: harry potter x f!reader

➥ In which, harry finally confesses his feelings towards his closed off friend.

Warnings:black cat gf golden retriever bf, reader is a gryffindor, fluff, no smut but it gets 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, they make out, idk what else 

a/n: I was trying not to write too much harry BUT HEY, if u guys like him sm I will no longer hold myself back🙏

2.4k words 

It was a crisp autumn day at Hogwarts, the kind where the air was cool but not biting, and the leaves scattered across the grounds in hues of amber and crimson. You were sitting by the Great Lake, a book in hand, when you heard the familiar crunch of footsteps behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Skipping lunch again?” Harry’s voice called out, warm and teasing.

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I just enjoy the quiet. Not everyone’s a bundle of energy like you, Potter.”

Harry grinned, undeterred by your sharp tone. “Or maybe you just enjoy pretending to be aloof. I brought you a pumpkin pasty, by the way.” He held it out, and despite your best efforts, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Fine,” you said, taking the pasty. “Thanks.”

Harry plopped down beside you, his untidy black hair catching the sunlight. His green eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and warmth that could charm anyone—though you’d never admit it aloud. You’d always been the reserved one, the one who observed from the shadows, while Harry was the embodiment of sunshine, drawing people to him effortlessly.

“So, what are you reading this time?” he asked, leaning closer to peer at your book.

“It’s a Muggle mystery novel,” you replied, shifting slightly to keep the book out of his reach. “Not that you’d understand it.”

Harry laughed, the sound loud and unabashed. “Is that a challenge? You know I love a good mystery.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the fondness in your voice. “I think your idea of a mystery involves chasing after enchanted keys or dodging cursed objects. This is a bit more subtle.”

The two of you sat there for a while, the easy banter flowing between you. Despite your contrasting personalities, you’d always found comfort in Harry’s presence. His warmth balanced your cool demeanor, and his relentless optimism chipped away at your walls in a way that no one else could.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Over the weeks, your time together became more frequent. Whether it was studying in the library, sneaking out to the kitchens for a late-night snack, or simply wandering the castle grounds, Harry seemed to seek you out more and more. You didn’t mind—though you’d never admit how much you looked forward to his company.

One evening, you were curled up in an armchair in the common room, a book in hand, when Harry bounded over, his energy as infectious as ever.

“You’re always reading,” he teased, flopping into the seat across from you. “How do you ever have time for fun?”

“This is fun,” you replied without looking up. “Not everyone feels the need to be constantly moving, you know.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. “But wouldn’t it be more fun if you had company? Say, someone to annoy you until you finally agree to take a break?”

You shot him a pointed look but couldn’t hide the amusement in your eyes. “And I suppose you’re volunteering for that role?”

“Obviously,” he said with a grin. “Who else could do it as well as me?”

Despite your best efforts, you found yourself smiling. Harry’s golden retriever energy was hard to resist, and as much as you pride yourself on being unshakable, he always managed to find the cracks in your armor.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was during a Quidditch match that Harry first realized something had shifted. Gryffindor was playing Slytherin, and you were sitting in the stands, your usual reserved demeanor on display. But when Harry made a particularly daring move to dodge a Bludger, you’d leapt to your feet, your hands clenched tightly around the railing.

After the match, as the team celebrated in the common room, Harry’s eyes sought yours across the crowd. You were sitting in your usual corner, your expression carefully neutral, but when your gaze met his, a flicker of warmth passed between you. It left him wondering if there was something more beneath your guarded exterior.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

One snowy afternoon, the two of you ventured out to the courtyard. The air was crisp, and snow blanketed the grounds in a pristine white. You’d been reluctant to leave the warmth of the castle, but Harry’s enthusiasm was contagious.

“Come on,” he said, tossing a snowball at you. “Even you can’t resist a little fun in the snow.”

You glared at him, brushing the snow from your cloak. “You’re impossible, Potter.”

“And you’re predictable,” he shot back with a grin. “But I’ll take that as a challenge.”

Before you could respond, he launched another snowball at you. What started as a one-sided attack quickly turned into a full-blown snowball fight, laughter echoing through the courtyard as you darted behind pillars and trees for cover. Finally, Harry tackled you into a snowbank, both of you breathless and laughing.

“Truce?” he asked, his green eyes shining with mischief.

“Truce,” you agreed, your cheeks flushed from the cold and the exertion.

As you lay there, side by side in the snow, the playful atmosphere shifted. Harry’s laughter faded, and he turned to look at you, his expression softening.

“You know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “you’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could retort, he continued.

“I mean, you act all aloof and mysterious, but you’re one of the kindest people I know. You just don’t let many people see it.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Harry’s gaze was steady, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something deeper, something more earnest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said finally, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

Harry smiled, reaching out to brush a snowflake from your hair. “Sure you don’t.”

The gesture was so simple, so natural, but it sent a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the cold. For the first time, you allowed yourself to meet his gaze fully, and in that moment, everything seemed to shift.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The realization came slowly, like the first rays of sunlight after a long night. Neither of you said anything right away, but from that day on, the dynamic between you began to change. The teasing became softer, the moments of silence more comfortable. Harry’s golden retriever energy still clashed with your black cat personality, but instead of opposing forces, you began to feel like two halves of a whole.

One evening, as the two of you sat in the common room by the fire, Harry seemed uncharacteristically quiet. You glanced at him, noticing the way his hands fidgeted with the hem of his jumper.

“Alright, Potter. Out with it,” you said, setting your book aside. “What’s going on in that overly active brain of yours?”

He looked up at you, his green eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. “I... I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice quieter than usual. “About us.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Us?”

Harry nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been very good at hiding how I feel. And when it comes to you... I just can’t pretend anymore.”

Your heart thudded in your chest as he shifted closer, his expression earnest and open. “I care about you. A lot more than just as a friend. You make everything feel... brighter. And I know we’re different, but I think that’s what makes it work. You make me want to be better, and I can’t imagine not having you by my side.”

For a moment, you were silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Harry’s gaze didn’t waver, even as a faint blush crept up his cheeks.

“I... I didn’t think you felt that way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was just another friend to you.”

“You’ve never been just another friend,” Harry said firmly. “Not to me.”

Something inside you softened, the walls you’d carefully built around your heart crumbling under the warmth of his words. Tentatively, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his.

“I care about you too, Harry,” you said, a small, genuine smile breaking through your usual reserved demeanor. “More than I realized.”

Relief and joy lit up his face, and before either of you could second-guess, Harry leaned in. His lips met yours, soft and hesitant at first, as if afraid to break the moment. But as you kissed him back, the hesitance melted away, replaced by a warmth that felt like coming home.

When you finally pulled away, Harry rested his forehead against yours, a wide grin on his face. “Well, that’s one mystery solved.”

You laughed softly, your cheeks warm. “You’re impossible, Potter.”

“And you’re perfect,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with affection.

For the first time, you didn’t argue.

Summer had arrived at last, and with it, a welcome break from the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts. You and Harry had been inseparable since that snowy afternoon. The teasing, the gentle banter, the quiet moments of understanding—everything felt like it had fallen into place. But now, as the summer stretched out before you, things had shifted once again. You were no longer just two friends trying to figure things out; you were together, in every sense of the word.

You hadn’t been entirely sure what to expect when Harry came to visit your home for the first time, but here he was, standing on the doorstep of your family’s house, his usual grin brighter than ever. He'd gotten a bit bolder since you’d started dating—especially when it came to little touches, lingering glances, and teasing words that seemed to have a new weight behind them.

“I can't believe you actually live here,” Harry said, looking around at the cozy, quiet neighborhood, his eyes wide with curiosity.

You gave him a playful roll of your eyes as you led him inside. “It's not the Burrow, Potter, but it’s home.”

Your parents weren’t around for the day—out visiting relatives, leaving you with plenty of time to spend with Harry. It was still early, the sun hanging low in the sky, but there was a languid, warm energy in the air. You felt more at ease than you’d ever been before, Harry’s presence at your side a comfort.

Once inside, Harry took off his shoes, following you into the living room. The house was quieter than the bustling castle, the kind of peace you’d grown up with. You gestured to the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ve got a few things to do, but you can, uh, hang out here.”

Harry was already plopping down onto the couch, kicking back with a sigh. “No complaints here. This place is nice.”

You nodded, disappearing for a moment to grab drinks from the kitchen, but when you came back, Harry was looking at you with an unreadable expression.

"Something on your mind?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

He didn’t answer at first, instead leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to a hushed, serious tone. "I’ve been thinking a lot about… us." His gaze met yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

You froze for a second, the air between you thickening. You weren't sure if he was being playful, or if he was genuinely serious, but the way he was looking at you sent a thrill running through your chest.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Harry smirked but didn’t look away. "Well, we’re not exactly... new to this anymore, are we?"

The playful glint in his eyes made your heartbeat a little faster, but before you could reply, Harry was standing up, crossing the room in a few quick steps. He stopped right in front of you, his eyes trailing over your face as if he was memorizing every inch of you.

He didn’t say anything more. He simply reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your skin in a way that made your pulse spike. His hand lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of something,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with meaning.

You didn’t say anything—couldn’t, really. All the thoughts in your head scrambled together as Harry’s lips met yours, soft and tentative at first, but with a hunger that made the world around you blur.

His kiss deepened as he pulled you closer, one hand sliding around your waist, the other moving to the back of your neck, drawing you in even tighter. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way he seemed to melt into you. You responded in kind, your hands finding the edge of his shirt, fingers brushing against his skin, and the contact made the already suffocating atmosphere feel even more intense.

He pulled away just slightly, enough to breathe. His forehead rested against yours, and you both lingered there for a moment, catching your breath.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Harry murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as his hands traced slow circles on your back.

“Then why wait?” you whispered back, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears.

Without another word, Harry kissed you again, this time more urgently, more desperately, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer. His hands roamed to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the shift in the energy between you, the building anticipation.

The kiss broke as you both gasped for air, but Harry’s hands found their way to your face again, his touch still as gentle as it was fierce. His eyes locked with yours. "Are you sure?"

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you closed the distance between you again, kissing him with all the emotion, all the longing you’d kept buried for so long.

And in that moment, the world outside the house ceased to exist. It was just you and Harry, tangled together in the quiet intimacy of this new chapter in your relationship. The summer sun streamed through the windows, casting long shadows across the room, but all you could focus on was the feel of his hands on your skin, the warmth of his breath, and the unspoken promise of more to come.

[pedroscowgirl]

buttons

Emily Prentiss x fem!bau reader

Pics are for aesthetic purposes only and is not an indication of what reader looks like! and these pics don't belong to me

Warnings: smut! minors dni!!

semi public sex? fingering, squirting, age gap(reader is in her twenties) , use of 'mommy', lmk if i forgot something!

summary: you and Emily are on a mission in a club and she can't keep herself from touching you x

wc: 2.8k

A/n: idk why but i was listening to 'buttons' from the pussycatdolls and had to think of her so enjoy! also this is actually my first time ever writing a smut with a woman and idk why cuz i've been bisexual for years

The club is pulsing with energy, neon lights casting vibrant shades across the room. The music is loud, drowning out any casual conversation, and bodies are moving on the dance floor in sync with the beat. You're here on assignment, undercover as Emily's partner. The two of you have been tasked with observing a target—a high-level suspect mingling among the crowd. Morgan is across the room, keeping a close eye on things from a distance, but it's Emily's attention that's making your pulse quicken.

Emily leans casually against the high-top table, her drink untouched in front of her. She’s wearing a sleek black dress that clings to her in all the right places, and the confidence she radiates is undeniable. Her dark eyes flicker over to you, and she arches a brow, a small smirk playing on her lips as she notices the way you can’t help but keep stealing glances.

"Keep your head in the game," she murmurs, but there’s a teasing edge to her tone. She steps closer, her body brushing lightly against yours. To anyone watching, it would look like a casual move, nothing out of the ordinary, just two women at a bar—but you can feel the tension between you crackling in the air. The heat of her body so close to yours is intoxicating, and the mission suddenly feels much more complicated.

Her hand rests on the table, fingers casually tapping to the rhythm of the music, but you feel her other hand brush subtly against your lower back, pulling you ever so slightly closer. Her knee presses gently between your legs under the table, the movement subtle, but unmistakable. Your breath hitches for a moment, but you try to keep your face composed, knowing that Morgan is watching from across the room.

"Act normal, sweetheart," Emily whispers, her voice low, just for you. There’s a glint of mischief in her eyes, and the corner of her mouth curves into a wicked smile.

You shift in place, trying to focus on the mission, but the sensation of her knee between your legs sends a shiver down your spine. Her touch is just enough to drive you wild, but not enough to be obvious to anyone else. You bite your lip, trying to ignore the way your body is reacting to her nearness, to the teasing pressure of her leg against you.

"Emily," you whisper, barely able to find your voice. You glance over at Morgan, who seems oblivious to what’s happening, still scanning the crowd for your target.

"What?" she asks, feigning innocence as she leans in closer, her lips just brushing the shell of your ear. "You seem a little distracted."

You stifle a smile, your heart racing. "You know exactly what you’re doing."

Her chuckle is soft, and she moves her leg just a fraction, enough to make you squirm against the pressure. "Focus," she purrs, her lips so close to your ear that her breath sends a shiver through you. "We’re here for the mission, remember?"

But it’s hard to focus on anything else when her touch is driving you to the edge of distraction. The weight of her presence, the warmth of her body so close to yours—it’s all you can think about. You’re hyper-aware of everything, the way her fingers now lightly trail down your arm, the subtle way her body shifts ever so slightly closer to yours, the way her knee presses into you in time with the music.

The target appears at the edge of your vision, and you snap back to attention, trying to focus on anything other than the throbbing heat between your legs. You nod subtly in his direction, signaling to Emily that the target is on the move. But even as the two of you start to follow him through the crowd, the tension between you remains, simmering just below the surface.

Emily’s hand slips to the small of your back as you walk, guiding you through the throng of people, her touch steady and reassuring, though there’s a lingering intimacy that makes your pulse quicken. You can still feel the ghost of her knee between your legs, the way she teased you when you were supposed to be focusing on the mission.

As you both weave through the crowd, you steal a glance at Emily, and she catches your eye. Her smile is small but knowing, as if she can read every thought running through your mind. "After this," she murmurs, leaning in close so that only you can hear, "maybe we’ll finish what we started."

Your heart skips a beat at the promise in her words, but you quickly force yourself to focus. You can’t let your guard down now, not when the target is so close. But the thought of what might happen after the mission ends is enough to keep your blood racing.

For now, though, you push those thoughts aside. You and Emily fall back into step, the professional edge returning to your demeanour as you move together, both of you focused on the task at hand. Still, the undercurrent of desire simmers between you.

The night after the mission feels like a blur. You and Emily make it back to the BAU, your bodies still buzzing from the adrenaline of the assignment, and from the charged moments between the two of you. Everyone is packing up, heading home after a long day. You’re still wearing the outfit you had on during the mission, a white blouse and a skirt that clings to your figure. Emily, still in her sleek black dress, looks as poised and composed as ever, though there's a glimmer in her eyes that tells you she’s not done with you yet.

As the last of your colleagues trickle out, Emily stays back. Her gaze lingers on you as she leans casually against her desk, arms crossed, a knowing smile playing on her lips. You feel the weight of her stare, heat pooling in your stomach, and a blush creeps up your neck as you realize you’re completely alone with her now.

You start to gather your things, but before you can finish, Emily takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you with slow, deliberate steps. The room is quiet now, save for the soft hum of the lights overhead. You can feel the tension crackling between you, and before you know it, she’s right in front of you, her hand gently resting on your arm.

"Stay," she says softly, her voice low, almost a whisper.

You look up at her, your breath catching in your throat. There’s something intense in her gaze, something that makes your heart race. Without another word, she moves closer, her body brushing lightly against yours as she gently backs you up until your hips bump against the edge of her desk.

Her hands slide to your waist, holding you in place as she leans in, her lips hovering dangerously close to yours. "You’ve been driving me crazy all night," she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin.

Your breath hitches as she closes the gap, her lips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It’s soft at first, but it quickly deepens, her hand sliding up your side as her fingers trace the fabric of your blouse. The kiss is intoxicating, sending a wave of heat through your body. You feel her hands move to the buttons of your blouse, and with a skilled, practiced motion, she begins to undo them, one by one.

The room feels warmer, and your heart races as she breaks the kiss, her lips moving to your neck. She trails soft, teasing kisses along your skin, her hands working their way down the rest of your blouse, exposing the delicate skin of your collarbone and the tops of your breasts. Her touch is gentle, but there’s an intensity behind it that makes your pulse quicken.

"You have no idea what you do to me," she whispers against your skin, her lips brushing the exposed part of your chest. Her hands slide lower, brushing against your thighs as she presses you further against her desk.

You’re completely lost in the sensation of her touch, the way her hands and lips seem to know exactly how to make your body respond. The world outside fades away, and all that exists is this moment, just you and her, the connection between you growing stronger with every breath.

You feel the wetness between your legs, your breath growing uneven as her hand slips further up your thigh, just under the hem of your skirt. Her fingers graze the fabric of your panties, and you can’t help the soft gasp that escapes your lips.

"Does Mommy make you wet?" she asks in a playful, teasing tone, her voice thick with amusement.

You moan softly, heat rushing to your cheeks, unable to form words as the sensation of her touch makes your mind go blank. "Please, Emily," you whisper, but it’s not enough for her.

She raises an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Please who?" she asks, her tone firm but laced with that teasing edge.

You look up at her, feeling a mix of desperation and excitement. "Please, Mommy… touch me," you finally manage, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Emily’s smile turns softer, almost affectionate. "That’s better," she whispers. "Such a good girl."

Her fingers dance over your skin as she lifts you slightly, helping you adjust your position on the desk. The cool wood beneath you is a stark contrast to the warmth of her body so close to yours. She slowly slides your panties down, her movements deliberate, making every second feel stretched and heavy with tension.

Your heart pounds in your chest as she places a gentle kiss just below your collarbone, her hands exploring the newly exposed skin of your thighs. The intimacy of the moment overwhelms you, every inch of your body hyperaware of her touch.

"You're so beautiful," she whispers softly, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. There's no rush in her movements, no urgency, just a deliberate, unspoken promise that she’s taking her time because she wants this to last.

She presses her lips to your neck, trailing soft kisses down to your collarbone as her hand moves between your legs. Your breath hitches as she touches you, gently at first, her fingers moving in slow, rhythmic circles. It’s a feeling that sends a wave of warmth through your entire body, and you can’t help but lean into her, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as your head falls back, eyes fluttering shut.

"Mommy..." you moan softly, but she hushes you with a quiet "Shh, just relax, sweetheart. Let me take care of you."

Her movements remain gentle yet purposeful, building tension with every slow stroke, every soft touch. She’s in complete control, and the trust you feel in this moment is overwhelming. Her lips return to your neck, peppering kisses along your skin as her hand continues to explore you, coaxing soft sounds from your lips that you can barely control.

Time seems to blur. The tension that’s been simmering between you for so long is finally spilling over, but there’s something more than just desire here. It’s the way she looks at you, the way her touch is both tender and sure, making you feel cherished, seen, and completely in the moment.

She presses her forehead gently against yours, her breath hot on your lips. "You’re so good for me," she whispers, her voice filled with affection. "So perfect."

The words wash over you, and in that moment, everything else fades away. All that matters is her, her touch, and the connection between you. Your hands tighten on the edge of the desk as the intensity builds, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge, completely lost in her.

As your body tenses, her pace quickens, her hand expertly guiding you to the brink. Her name falls from your lips like a prayer, and she smiles against your skin, knowing exactly what you need. And when the release finally comes, it's overwhelming—a wave of sensation that makes you gasp, your hands gripping the desk for support as your whole body shakes with the force of it.

Emily holds you through it, her hand never leaving you, her lips pressing soft kisses to your cheek, your neck, as you come down from the high. Your breathing is ragged, your body trembling in the aftermath, but she’s there, grounding you, keeping you steady.

When you finally catch your breath, you open your eyes to find her watching you, her smile soft and full of warmth. She brushes a strand of hair from your face, her fingers lingering on your skin for a moment longer than necessary.

"You’re amazing," she whispers, her voice filled with something deeper than just desire.

As the last tremors of your shared moment with Emily begin to settle, the room grows quiet once again. Your body still tingles with the aftermath, your breath slowly returning to normal as you sit on the edge of her desk, adjusting your skirt, trying to regain some composure. Emily leans down, brushing a soft kiss against your lips, her touch lingering, her hand gently smoothing the fabric of your blouse.

But then, there’s another sound, a soft thud, faint but noticeable, coming from Hotch’s office. You both freeze, listening. The noise isn’t loud, but it’s unmistakable, a chair scraping against the floor, perhaps? Papers being shuffled?

You exchange a glance with Emily, the thrill of the moment between you still fresh, but now mingled with a new tension. Emily straightens, her usual composure returning as she quickly buttons the top of your blouse, her movements careful and precise. “We should get out of here before anyone sees,” she murmurs, her lips curving into a small, mischievous smile.

You nod, still catching your breath as you slide off the desk, smoothing down your skirt. But as you reach for your underwear that had been carelessly discarded during the heat of the moment, Emily is quicker. She picks them up with a sly grin, twirling the fabric around her fingers before tucking them into her handbag without a word.

"These are mine now," she whispers with a teasing lilt, her eyes gleaming with playful possession.

Your heart races again, not from fear of being caught, but from the intensity of her actions—how she continues to assert her control, even in such small, intimate ways. You give her a knowing look but say nothing, biting your lip as you fight back a smile.

Emily places a hand on the small of your back as you both begin to walk toward the door, the sound of your footsteps light against the polished floor.

You hold your breath, wondering if Hotch is still inside, completely unaware of what had just happened just outside of his office. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but Emily remains calm, her confidence unshaken. She leads you out of the bullpen, her hand sliding lower until it’s resting just under the hem of your skirt.

As you pass the office door, the sound fades, and you breathe a quiet sigh of relief. But then, just as you're about to turn the corner, Emily’s hand gives your ass a firm squeeze, her touch bold and possessive, hidden beneath the fabric of your skirt. You gasp, shooting her a look of disbelief mixed with excitement, but she only smirks, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“Keep walking,” she murmurs in a low voice, so soft that only you can hear it. “You wouldn’t want Hotch to come out and see us now, would you?”

Her words send a rush of heat through your body, but you keep your composure, biting back a moan as her hand lingers for a moment longer before slipping away. You manage to walk a few more steps before daring to glance at her, and the look in her eyes is enough to make your pulse race all over again.

As you exit the building together, the cool night air hits your skin, grounding you back into reality. The thrill of almost getting caught, of knowing your underwear is hidden away in her handbag, sends a flush of warmth through you. Emily walks beside you, her expression casual, but you can still feel the heat of her presence, the tension between you crackling in the night air.

Before you part ways, Emily leans in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “I’m keeping these as a reminder.” She pats her handbag, where your underwear rests, and gives you one last, lingering kiss. "Next time, you’ll have to earn them back."

You shiver, your body still humming with the memory of her touch, and you know that this is far from over. As she walks away, you’re left standing there, breathless and anticipating when your paths will cross again, when you’ll feel her hands on you, her control over you, her claim on you, once more.

[blackenedsnow]

Can you write me a Shadow the Hedgehog x Female Reader, but movie Shadow version and the reader has DiGeorge Syndrome a rare medical disorder that I have, idk about any prompts or summary atm, anything will do :3

a heart’s shadow

WARNING: Mention of chronic illness and medical trauma, implied violence

PAIRING: Movie! Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader with DiGeorge Syndrome

NOTE: I may have gotten his personality completely wrong (let's hope not) but I hope you enjoy anyway! Sending you lots of love <333

SUMMARY: Shadow abducts you as part of a calculated plan but soon discovers your health struggles, which remind him of Maria. This realization shifts his cold purpose into something else.

The hum of machinery filled the darkened corridor. Shadow’s red-tinted eyes scanned the area, unyielding, calculating. Dr. Robotnik’s orders were simple: take a hostage to ensure leverage against Sonic. Anyone nearby would do.

He found you on a bench by a park, bundled against the chill, your breath coming in slow, deliberate measures. Shadow had no reason to think twice about you, but when he closed the distance, a brief hesitance stirred within him. There was something… different.

“You’ll do,” he muttered to himself, voice cold as he stepped forward. Before you had a chance to scream, the world became a blur of black and crimson.

When you came to, you were somewhere unfamiliar, an industrial space with harsh lights and the lingering scent of oil and metal. Panic clawed at your chest as you tried to sit up, but a sharp twinge in your side reminded you why that was a bad idea.

“Good, you’re awake,” a voice came from the shadows.

You turned toward the figure stepping into the light—small, black-furred, and with eyes that pierced right through you. Recognition struck. Shadow the Hedgehog.

“Why am I here? Why… why me?” Your voice trembled, but there was an underlying defiance.

His expression was unreadable. “You were convenient. That’s all.”

It wasn’t true. Not entirely. Shadow had noticed the slow way you’d been breathing, the way your hand pressed against your chest as if steadying something fragile. Something about it gnawed at the edges of his focus, but he dismissed it as irrelevant.

Hours turned into a day. Despite his original intention to keep you confined, Shadow had been uncharacteristically quiet and watchful, observing you from a distance.

When you tried to stand, the stumble in your step was enough to make him act. “Sit,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “You’ll hurt yourself further.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, though your trembling hands betrayed you. “I’ve been through worse.”

Something flickered across his face—a rare softness. “Explain.”

You weren’t sure why you did, but the words poured out before you could stop them. The surgeries. The way your heart worked harder than it should. The moments when simple things—like standing too quickly—felt like scaling a mountain.

Shadow listened, his arms crossed but his eyes filled with something akin to recognition. When you finished, you expected him to dismiss you or make some cutting remark. Instead, he just nodded.

The days stretched on, and Shadow’s demeanor began to shift. Where there had been silence, there was now a steady rhythm of his presence—a glass of water set beside you when he thought you weren’t looking, the careful adjustment of the space to make it more comfortable.

“What changed?” you asked one evening as he handed you a blanket.

Shadow hesitated, his gaze fixed on the floor. “You’re not what I expected. You’re… stronger than you seem.”

“Strong?” You laughed bitterly. “I can barely make it through the day without—”

“Strength isn’t about perfection,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “It’s surviving despite everything trying to break you.”

It wasn’t just empty words. Shadow understood. You could see it in the way his jaw tightened when he spoke, the unspoken weight he carried.

One morning, you woke to find Shadow in a room—not the cold, sterile space you’d been confined to, but warm place. He had taken you somewhere safe.

“You’re not taking me back to Robotnik?” you asked cautiously.

“No,” he said simply.

“But why—”

“Because I don’t work for him anymore.”

He didn’t elaborate, but you didn’t need him to. The walls Shadow had so carefully built around himself had cracked, just enough for you to glimpse the truth. He hadn’t saved you out of pity or obligation. Somewhere along the way, you’d become important to him.

Life with Shadow wasn’t easy—he was blunt, stoic, and often distant. But he was also fiercely protective, learning the intricacies of your condition without complaint. He’d carry you when you were too weak to walk, stand vigil during your worst days, and remind you in his own quiet way that you were never alone.

“Why do you stay?” you asked him one night, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to you, his gaze steady. “Because you remind me of her. Of Maria.”

You reached for his hand, resting yours over his. “I’m not her, Shadow. I’m not perfect.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you’re worth fighting for.”