#if that’s something you want then stay tuned

[wisecura]

Sweeter (NSFW)

SatoSugu x f!Reader p.2 - 4k (all for the fuckin' smut)

summary: THE PWP FOR: entering high school only to be met with the two hottest strongest sorcerers of your generation was not something you were prepared for. so, what happens when they take a strange liking to their cute, sheltered underclassman?

an: man I'm getting some good practice for writing smut. I hope it's as coherent as my tired brain thought it was. loosely proofread, so please enjoy-

MINORS DNI AFTER HERE

warnings: do not read if you are sensitive to dubcon, or any kind of dark fic topics, small age gap (not even mentioned, they're past high school), arranged marriage, poly relationship, possessive undertones, manipulative undertones, manipulative, some gaslighting, Dom-Suguru, pussydrunk, creampie cleanup, breeding kink, virgin reader that somehow knows how to deepthroat a large cock (with minimal instructions-first try!), if they sound mean-i'm sorry, immature (sheltered) reader,

did you want to read it again?

The wedding was straight out of a fairytale, bathed in the rich, traditional colors that only added to the day’s dreamlike quality.

There he was—Satoru, the man you were about to call your husband.

Each time you glanced at him, dressed sharply, standing poised and perfect, it took your breath away. Marrying the most sought-after bachelor around, a man wrapped in prestige, wealth, and unmatched power and strength, felt crazy. The only word to describe it was surreal. 

Satoru gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as they announced your union. The kiss–though he'd kissed you plenty of times before, was now on the lips. A little deeper, holding the back of your head, keeping you close, preventing you from pulling away too quickly, leaving you breathless.  

During the reception, amidst the laughter and clinking glasses, you caught snippets of conversation from Satoru’s relatives, their voices low, gazing at you with a gleam in their eyes. One topic staying constant on their tongues: producing an heir.

It was a layer of expectation that loomed large, suddenly making your new reality even more daunting than you had anticipated.

As the night drew to a close and the estate began to quiet down, the weight of what was expected in your marriage truly settled in. Would Satoru really expect... that... so soon?

The thought of... consummation, when you hadn't even been dating, churned in your stomach as you hesitantly approached his, now your bedroom door. All your belongings were already here, making this vast place your new home, but this final step—something you felt completely unprepared for—loomed large.

With a shaky breath, you knocked gently on the door. The sound echoed slightly in the still hallway, perfectly in tune with the rapid beating of your heart. When the door finally swung open, Satoru loomed above you, his silhouette framed by the soft light spilling from the room, haloing him in an almost ethereal glow.

"You came," he remarked, a hint of surprise coloring his voice as if he hadn't fully expected you to follow through. You stood awkwardly a the door, feeling a little shy. Where you not supposed to-

"Come on," his hand reaching out to grasp your arm, pulling you into the room with a gentle tug that caused you to stumble slightly. As you regained your balance, your eyes quickly scanned the room.

It was strikingly sterile, devoid of personal touches, which made it feel less like a bedroom and more like an impersonal guest room. You assumed your belongings had already been neatly stored away in the closet. However, what really caught your attention wasn’t the room’s lack of personality but rather what—or rather, who—was on the large king-sized bed.

Suguru was there, lounging casually as if his presence in this intimate setting was the most natural thing in the world, the sight throwing you off.

"S-Suguru?" Your voice wavered, tinged with disbelief. He hadn't been at the wedding celebrations, and it had been months since you'd last seen him. Overcome with a mix of surprise and relief, you quickly crossed the room and threw yourself onto his lap, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"Even I didn't get this reaction," Satoru muttered from behind you, his tone a mix of amusement and mock offense.

Suguru's response was a deep, resonant chuckle that vibrated through his chest, warming you with its familiarity. The position was intimate, but you'd sat on their laps plenty of times before.

Obviously nothing would happen tonight if he was here. 

"It's been a while, pretty girl," Suguru murmured, his hand gently caressing your face and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You leaned into his touch, realizing just how much you had missed his presence.

"Heard you got married while I was gone," his voice low and teasing.

You laughed, the sound muffled against his chest as you nuzzled closer, reveling in the comfort his presence provided. The familiarity of his scent and the steady beat of his heart soothing your nerves. 

"Ok, now I'm starting to get jealous," Satoru's voice came from behind you. You heard his footsteps as he approached, and you felt the bed give way under his weight, his body pressed against your back, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them.

Suguru's hand reached over your shoulder, affectionately patting Satoru on the head.

"Now why would you be jealous? She's your wife," Suguru teased, his voice light but carrying a note that stirred a chill down your spine. You were still not quite accustomed to being called someone's wife.

"And here you are, all cuddled up next to her," Satoru huffed, his tone playful yet pointed.

"You promised we'd share, Satoru. Don't get greedy now," he added, reminding Satoru of some unspoken agreement that seemed to include you in their plans. You felt nervous as you let outa small breath.

"Promised you'd share?" The words slipped out, small, tinged with disbelief as you craned your neck to look up at Suguru. Almost instantly, you felt Satoru's presence push behind you. His body pressed closer, his breath warm on your neck, and his arms cinched tighter around your waist—a clear sign he didn't appreciate being ignored–even for a moment.

"Of course, sweet girl. We couldn’t possibly let you end up with just anyone," Suguru replied, his tone casual but obviously carrying an coolness that had you momentarily stunned.

"But what do you mean by 'share'?" The question hung awkwardly in the air, your brain not fully wrapping around his meaning. 

Suguru's response was matter-of-fact. "Well, technically, you can only marry one of us, right?"

Before you could digest this, Satoru piped up from behind, his voice laced with a mix of jest and arrogance, "And I’m the heir to the Gojo family, so obviously I’m the better choice."

This boast earned him a scathing look from Suguru, who, despite the tension, continued to stroke your head in a seemingly soothing manner. Yet, the gesture now felt more like a claim being staked, adding to the surreal-ness of the situation. 

"You've always been part of us, yeah? Every moment we've spent together built towards this. It's natural for us to be together. All ours."

Your mind reeled, struggling to piece together the implications of his words. "I... but I thought we were just friends. What do you mean I've always been yours?"

Satoru's breath was warm against your ear. "Think about it. Who's always been there for you? Who have you spent all your time with? It's always been us, hasn't it? It's not just friendship. It's more than that, and deep down, you know it," he whispered, each word designed to reshape your understanding of the past few years you shared together. Willing you to understand.

"But... How? A marriage is supposed to be between two people–a man and a woman–not... not this," you protested weakly, trying to grasp the reality they presented against everything you thought you knew–everything your clan has taught you.

Suguru laughed softly, a sound that used to comfort you but now seemed to carry a darker undertone. "Who says it has to be just two people?–man, woman, same difference. What we have? It's special, unique. We don't need to follow society's rules. We make our own rules because we're meant to be together. All of us."

Satoru nodded, adding, "Exactly. Why limit ourselves? You're ours, and we're yours. We've shared everything, haven't we? Our food, our time, our secrets. Sharing our lives through marriage is just the next step."

Your face flushed red, a mix of confusion and realization washing over you. "I... I do love you both," you admitted, your voice trembling. "You are the most important people in my life. I can't imagine being without you." Despite the situation, your heart knew these feelings were genuine. You've obviously never confessed, and this just felt so new. So nerve wracking.

Suguru's expression softened, his earlier laughter fading into a more sincere, tender smile. "And we love you, too. More than you can imagine," he assured you, hands collecting your hair together. "We've never planned to let you go, not now, not ever."

As Satoru buried his face deeper into your neck, you felt the warmth of his breath and the gentle kisses he planted along your skin. Each kiss was soft, almost reverent, as he murmured right into your ear, “No matter what happens, even if you wanted to leave, we wouldn’t let you. You're part of us, and that’s how it’s going to stay. We’re in this together, forever.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making your heart swell with happiness. It felt right, being here with them, more right than anything else ever had. They were no longer just dreams or fantasies—they were real, tangible–and  you finally saw them for what they were. 

Yours. 

Suguru’s hands joined Satoru’s at your waist, tightening his hold just as his gaze pierced into yours. His question was direct, catching you by surprise. "Have you been with anyone before?" His eyes seemed to search for any hint of deceit in your response.

You shook your head, knowing exactly what he meant, your cheeks warming with embarrassment. "No, I’ve.... never been with anyone. I don’t even really know how all this is supposed to work," you admitted, feeling your heart race under his intense attention.

Sensing your nervousness, Suguru suddenly took charge, his voice firm as he instructed Satoru to give you some space. "Scoot back a bit, let's not crowd her," he said, a playful note creeping in his voice.  Satoru moved back reluctantly, mumbling a mix of playful huffs and complaints. “She’s my wife,”

"It'll start with kissing," Suguru ignores him, instead focusing his attention on you. "Already done that," you chimed in quickly, remembering the kisses shared with Satoru, the one from the alter-really only wanting to be helpful.

You didn't expect Suguru’s poutily looking away. A hint of annoyance flickering across his face. Sure, he expected the two of you to already kiss when you were married but…. "Satoru’s already kissed you…." he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Curious, you asked, "What’s wrong?" Satoru couldn't help but chime in with a grin, "Suguru’s jus’ jealous." Your face turned a deeper shade of red at the tease, but before you could respond, Suguru pulled you into him, his lips meeting yours in a deep, all-consuming kiss. It was intense and filled with an urgency that seemed to be fueled by Satoru’s taunting.

His hands trial down your body, squeezing and pulling you closer, exploring you completely. You're sat in his lap, as he forces your hips to grind into his, an obvious bulge pressing against you, his eyes damn near black–blown out, watching you closely as you break for air.

Looking down, his palms massage your thighs, hitching your nightgown up higher, fingers finally reaching your covered slit as you let out a small whimper from the contact. 

You felt all eyes on you, and couldn't help the nerves that coiled in your stomach–even now with you splayed across his lap on display, hungry eyes watching you–you still felt embarrassed. You heard shuffling from behind you, turning your head to meet Satoru-but before you could, Suguru’s hands grabbed your chin to face him. 

“Eyes on me, Doll.” The breathy puff of air you let out was all instinctual–the way he so easily commanded your attention with his pet names. And the tremble in your rolling hips forced his eyes back down, trailing his hand across your chest, your stomach, and finally down to the soaked fabric. “Satoru, I think your wife likes me more.” 

Your hands grip onto the fabric of his shirt, and you so desperately want to look back when you hear the slick sounds from behind you, Satoru’s annoyed sulky puff at Suguru’s comment sounding out around the loud, wet slaps. 

“hah–gimme a minute with her, and let's see who’s talkin’–” But once again Suguru ignores him, his fingers teetering the border of your panties, obviously distracted, before finally sliding a finger along your drenched folds. He lets out a soft chuckle, burying himself in deeper, a sickening squelch reverberating the room, now matching the pace of the sound behind you. So filthy, and you really didn't know any better-

You can't help the low moan you let out, or the way your nails dig into his shoulders, hips bucking into his thick fingers, seeking a release you didn't expect. And just as sudden, he withdrawals his fingers, bringing them up to your face, as if he were scolding you. 

“Look at how filthy you are.” he coos out, voice husky. “So cute.” You’re beet red. 

"Please, tell me you’re gonna let me have a taste.” Satoru's voice sounds out behind you, begging, more desperate than you've ever heard from him before. “C’mon Suguru, please.”

You could hear the rasp in his words, laced with heavy desire, as you watched Suguru shocked, no- stunned at the request. You couldn't see his face, but the audible fapping noises behind you were enough to give you a picture. 

“What do you think, doll? Should we let him taste?” His voice dripping in amusement, as you shake your head, mouth agape, “t-that’s nasty, Sugur–” before you could finish your protest, Suguru leans over you, pulling Satoru in by his neck, pushing you down on the bed in the process.

Now hovering above you, slotted between your legs–his hardened length firmly pressed against your center. You finally have a clear image of them both, as you see his fingers being shoved into Satoru’s mouth, grip choking him, and the lewd image of his fingers fucking into his mouth would stay ingrained into your mind for weeks after–you've never seen him so rough before.

And what shocked you moreso was when Satoru practically moaned at the contact of your taste on his tongue, lolling out, leaning into his aggressive hold as if it were the most natural thing ever. He greedily laps Suguru's fingers, fingers gripping Suguru’s wrist close, eyes rolling back, a sinful expression gracing his face.

You have a clear view of just what Satoru was up to behind your back, his massive hand actively stroking his girthy cock, now inches from your face. You can't keep your eyes off of it as you study it religiously. You've never seen one before. Was that thing supposed to….fit inside you? ]

Suguru chuckled lowly at your reactions, gaze locked onto you before pulling his fingers from Satoru’s mouth, releasing his hold on his neck. 

“He’s such a nasty boy, don't you think? Getting all hard from his wife being felt up like that.” Your eyes find Suguru’s again as he watches you closely. You can't respond-and how were you supposed to with two very large, very big men standing over you?

“You nervous?” you nod before you could stop yourself. Without hesitating, he pushes himself into you, spurring a small whimper from you, “It’s okay baby. We’ll take good care of you.” His fingers find your clit through your panties, as he continues grinding into you, each touch bringing you closer and closer to the edge, mind going fuzzy as you watch Satoru stroking himself. 

His eyes meet yours, glazing over, pupils matching Suguru’s, and they both sense your impending orgasm growing with every passing second, your body responding to Suguru’s touch despite your initial hesitation. "You're so wet already, doll," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. “Feels so tight ‘n warm.” 

Satoru chuckles, licking his lips as he watches Suguru's movements, leaning down to hover over your face, “Wanna taste?” And before you could answer, he’s leaning into a deep kiss, tongue slipping past your lips, and you can taste your own slick on him.

Breaking away, his fingers make their way to your mouth, eyes watching you, burning you. He moves his thumb away from your mouth, replacing it with the tip of his cock instead, tracing your lips with it. "Open up."

You feel a shiver run down your spine as you hesitantly part your lips, allowing Satoru to slide his cock inside. Your eyes widen as you taste him for the first time, a salty white thickness coating your tongue. Suguru takes this opportunity to slide a finger inside you once again, curling it just right to hit that spot. 

You moan involuntarily, your hips bucking against his hand, allowing Satoru's cock in deeper, almost choking on it. Satoru smirks, his hands moving to grip your head, guiding your movements. He loves the way you look with his cock in your mouth, so innocent yet so sinful. He thrusts deeper, his hips rocking against your face, as you continue slurping on his thick cock. “Eh eh, no teeth baby, hollow out that mouth, jus like that, goooood girl–”

“Cmon now Satoru, she can't breathe.” Suguru reprimands lightly, your head going dizzy at the lack of oxygen. 

“You sure you're a virgin?” Satoru moaned out, “sure doesn't seem like it.” 

“Easy now, Satoru, don't make me tie you down.” You barely catch the words, Satoru filling your mouth as drool pooled around the edges. You’d complain, but the moans coming from Satoru were godly, and the feel of Suguru grinding into your clothed cunt had easily clouded your thoughts.  

“So good fer me,” Satoru praises, pulling his cock from your mouth, leaving behind a trail of saliva. They both are mesmerized at how your body takes them both so well, each stimulation eliciting such a vulgar reaction from you. You already looked fucked out and they haven’t even started. 

Suguru pulls your panties down now, fixated on your weeping bare cunt, drawing satorus attention. “Sucha pretty little hole.” His fingers trail the edges, before dipping inside, and you moan at the intrusion.

“Let's keep this mouth busy, yeah?” and before you know it, Satoru’s cock is back on your tongue, thrusting in deep, as you gag. The sight of your pretty mouth struggling to accommodate him only spurs him on, and you do your best to relax your jaw–only hoping that you were doing it right. 

Suguru's eyes flicker with a primal hunger as he watches you struggle to adjust to Satoru's cock. He withdraws his fingers from you slowly, leaving you aching and empty for just a moment before he replaces them with something much larger.

You feel his cock press against your entrance, causing your eyes to widen, not sure he’d be able to even fit there. Satoru chuckles at your reaction, gripping your head firmer as he thrusts deeper into your mouth. Suguru leans down, his lips grazing your ear. "Relax," he whispers soothingly. "It'll be easier if you just relax, baby."

You nod, trying to settle down, trusting him completely, he slowly pushes himself inside you, his thick length stretching you wide open. You whimper around Satoru's cock as Suguru fills you up, pleasure and pain melding together in a heady mix, the stretch almost unbearable.

Satoru groans at the feel of your throats vibrations, as Suguru gives you a moment to adjust before he starts moving, his hips rocking into yours in a slow, steady rhythm. Satoru matches his pace, thrusting in sync with Suguru. You feel completely filled, sandwiched between them both. They take turns praising you, their voices muffled by their own pleasure-filled moans.

"Fuck, you feel incredible."  Suguru's husky voice echoes through your mind as he picks up the pace, thrusting deeper inside your sloppy pussy. "Such a good girl, taking both of us so well." Satoru adds, his breathing labored as he watches Suguru claim you, eagerly awaiting his turn.

Their movements become more erratic as they lose themselves in their lust, their hands roaming over your body possessively. 

Suguru's thumb circles your clit faster, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you, as Satoru thrusts harder into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each movement. You moan around him again, the vibrations sending shockwaves through him, causing his hips to stutter. They continue to worship your body, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. “Should I cum in this pussy?” Suguru says, staring down at you through hooded eyes.

His words send a bolt of pleasure straight to your pussy, your walls contracting around him involuntarily. His grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts becoming rougher as he groans, "Fuck yes, I'm going to cum inside you, this pussy will be dripping, ‘m gonna give you so much." His eyes bore into yours, filled with a possessive hunger that makes you squirm. Satoru groans at the sight, his cock pulsing against your tongue.

Satoru pulls out of your mouth momentarily to trail wet kisses down your neck, leaving your mouth open for you to sputter out a string of curses and moans. He circles your nipple with his tongue, making you arch into him as Suguru continues to fuck you mercilessly. “Fuck, she's so responsive.” His own climax building at the sight of your impending orgasm. 

Suguru grunts in approval at your response, his hips driving harder into yours, his cock stretching you deliciously. You can hear the offensive wet sounds of their movements filling the room, making your core clench even more around Suguru's length. "you're so goddamn tight,"

Suguru curses, his control slipping. Satoru's lips leave your nipple to trail kisses along your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. "You're going to cum for us, aren't you, sweetheart?" He asks huskily, his hand wandering down to grip your thigh, holding it aside so he could see better. 

"Mhmph," you moan, nodding vigorously, your body trembling under the dual assault. Suguru grunts, his pace relentless as he feels your pussy begin to spasm around him. "That's it, take it all, you're doing so well," Satoru praises, his voice rough, strained with arousal. Suguru's movements become erratic as he chases his own climax, his thrusts becoming rougher, deeper, more primal.

"Fuckfuck–yes, cum on this dick,” He curses as his orgasm hits, his cock pulsing inside you as he releases hot streams of cum. Your walls tighten around him, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, making you buck wildly against him.

Suguru growls as he feels you clamp around him, cursing as he sinks his fingers into you tighter. Satoru watches intently, his hand gripping the base of his cock tightly to prevent himself from cumming too soon. Suguru's movements slow, but he doesn’t pull out, letting his cum fill you as he catches his breath. "Holy shit. You were holdin' out on us." 

Suguru presses soft kisses against your neck while he waits for you to come down from your high. Suguru withdraws from you slowly, his cum trickling down onto the king bed below you. Before you can catch your breath, Satoru takes his place, his cock pressing against your sensitive entrance. "My turn now," and before you can protest, he thrusts in deep as Suguru leans in to capture your pathetic whimpers with a filthy kiss.

Satoru's fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts deeper into you–the stretch so familiar but so different, his movements calculated to drive you wild. "So wet,so sososo so good," he groans, his pace increasing steadily. He loves the feeling of you around him, the way your walls clench with each stroke, recovering from your orgasm-pulsating just right-so hotsohotsohot, Suguru’s cum working as a lube for your poor abused hole–no doubt overstimulated. Suguru watches from the side, stroking himself lazily as he watches Satoru claim you, his own lust rekindled. They both lose themselves in the moment, completely consumed by their desire for you. 

"You're going to take every drop," Satoru grunts, his own orgasm building. Your eyes roll back as you feel your climax approaching at a scary speed, your body begging for release as he hits all the right spots.

When you finally cum, your pussy milks him greedily, pulling out every last drop of cum. They both groan in pleasure, the sight of you too good to pass up, as Satoru pulls out, he chuckles at your spent form, the sight of his cum dripping from you making him hard again already. Collapsing on the bed next to you, spent and satisfied.

He reaches out to trace patterns over your sensitive folds, playing with the mess they've made together, slick pooling at his fingertips. "Look at what a good little slut you are, stuffed by two men's seeds," he teases, leaning in to press a tender kiss against your thigh before looking over at Suguru with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You think she can handle us both filling her up?"

Suguru looks over at you with a hungry gaze, he runs a hand through his dark hair, eyes trailing down to where their cum pools between your legs. "We'll have to see," he says, a wicked smile playing on his lips. He moves closer, positioning himself beside Satoru so that they're both looming over you, staring down at your spent form. "But first, Be a good boy, Satoru, and clean her up." 

His hand on the back of his head, but you don't think he needed much convincing. Satoru leans forward without hesitation, his tongue licking up the mixture of their cum from your inner thighs- drawing patterns, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of both of their essences mixed with your sweetness. You whimper at the sensation, your body still sensitive and now overstimulated.

Suguru watches, his hand gripping Satoru's hair tightly, his own cock stirring again at the sight of Satoru’s tongue dipping into your pussy, tonguing the white mixture, with a nasty blissed out expression.

"Spread wider for him, doll," he instructs, his voice husky with desire. You obey automatically despite you craving the need to shut them tightly, your legs trembling as Satoru's tongue delves deeper, arms pinning your bucking hips down to the bed. 

You moan out loudly, your body writhing beneath him, as Satoru licks and sucks at your swollen clit, relishing in your responsiveness, swallowing down every drop that your pussy gave him.

Suguru reaches over him to fondle your breasts, pinching your nipples gently as he watches Satoru work his magic on your sensitive nerves. "Such a good girl," he praises, his free hand stroking his hardening cock again. "So responsive, so eager for more. You really ready for round two?"

Satoru smirks up at Suguru, licking cum from his lips before leaning up to meet his lips in a filthy kiss. You watch in a haze of pleasure as they share your taste, their tongues tangling together hungrily. When they finally pull apart, Suguru's eyes are dark with desire as he looks down at you. 

"I think she's ready for whatever we want to give her," 

did you want to read it again?

come home, this one has a second home

[icanseethefuture333]

18+ PAC: Who wants to slide down your chimney? 🎅🏼🍪🥛

A very nonsense Christmas collab with @icyg4l ❤️🎄🎁 happy holidays everyone!

Pile 1:

Shufflemancy -

In & Out by Red Velvet

Stay The Night by The Internet

Sex With Me by Rihanna

Seven of Pentacles, Ace of Cups, The Empress, Sing, Drink Tea, Soulmate, & Fun Times

Howdy, pile 1 🤠! It’s giving: “I’m working late ‘cus I’m a singer~🎤” there’s something about needing to warm up your throat 👀☕️? Oh my 🤭 this person really wants to hear your voice. Maybe you and this person meet during karaoke. I’m getting that they are also very vocal in the bedroom and wants to voice their needs and wants. I’m getting a “wife pleaser” so something about being in a tank top and boxers or pajamas. This person loves seeing you dress casually or being comfortable. They also adore your bare face or admire how your face looks with no makeup. Your sp could be considered grounded and attentive, they are in tuned with their emotions. They could know how to please the opposite sex and are in touch with their feminine side (especially if it’s someone with masculine energy). I’m seeing that they want to rub you through your panties/briefs 🫠, pushing it to the side as they rub your knit🧶/play with your snowballs ☃️. If you came, they would lick and/or suck their fingers. Admiring your taste and smell. They really enjoy having fun with you, pile 1! Perhaps this is a coworker or someone you’ll meet in a bar. They are charming and have a suave way about how they carry themselves. Confident but not cocky. This person will want to buy you a drink or offer to take you out on a date. I’m even seeing you having a little too much eggnog. You guys might even have public sex or have sex in the bathroom?! 😅 yeah y’all are definitely going on Santa’s naughty list😈

Pile 2:

Shufflemancy -

Lay You Down by Jimmy Brown

we fell in love in october by girl in red

HOT TO GO! by Chappell Roan

Knight of Wands, The Emperor, Queen of Pentacles, Burning Bowl Ritual, Massage, True Love, & Friendship

Cheers, pile 2 🥂! You may have felt drawn to pile 1 as well, I recommend that you read both! Anyways, I’m seeing romance and lust blossoming possibly between the same sex. You could be a part of the LGBTQ community or perhaps you are friends with people who are queer. You seem to be open minded and eager to try new experiences. I believe that you are someone who is level headed and capable of taking care of themselves. Responsible but also down to party. Your friends greatly appreciate you! I’m seeing you meeting this person at a club or a crowded holiday party. For some of you this will be a dinner party. This person will be eyeing you from across the room and will come over to speak you, you might feel nervous around this person because there is a mutual attraction that you don’t experience too often. You guys will spend the entire night talking and one or the other will invite them back to their place. “Chestnuts roasting by an open fire~” 🪵🔥. You and this person could have sex on the couch or by the fireplace. You will take charge of them and ride on top. The sex could be slow but get progressively harder and faster 🥵. I feel that you needed this more than this person does lol but they will love being at your mercy. Perhaps it’s been a long time since you had sex or a good orgasm, this person will provide just that. I’m seeing you roaming your hands over their body and massaging, grabbing, or groping at their flesh. This person will have a firm grip on your hips and would graze their fingers over your thighs. I believe for some of you this is a friend or an acquaintance, which could develop into something more overtime but for now will be a friends with benefits situation.

Pile 3:

Shufflemancy -

Sin City by Chrishan

Gentleman by KISS OF LIFE

Q U E V A S H A C E R H O Y? by Omar Courtz, De La Rose

Nine of Cups, Ace of Swords, The High Priestess, Chanting, Flow Like Water, Gifts, & Union

Have a ho ho ho-lly jolly Christmas, pile 3 👠! I have a strong feeling you might hook up with a fratboy or sorority girl. If they aren’t in a frat/sorority, then something about this person just gives that vibe. They could be pretty popular and attractive, so they are used to getting what they want. You might not care about this person at all but know you could gain something from them by hanging out with them. You could also just see them as hot but maybe lack total trust in them. They might come off as a typical “fuckboy/girl” to you, so you’re not entirely giving your heart to them, just wanting to enjoy the sleigh ride 🦌🛷 . Something about food play as well? Strawberries, whip creams, or popsicles. They really like your lips so lots of passionate kissing or they want to receive head from you. They can be pretty cocky in the bedroom and once you guys start undressing your clothes, they will immediately smile once they see your body. You could be a brat and this person is a brat tamer. You will brush them off when they tease you and be like “whatever your dick isn’t even that big🙄”. You could also wear cute lingerie or your sp will want to keep it for themselves as a souvenir 😋. I feel like the sex would be raw or there won’t be any condoms (crazy work💀) or someone is on birth control at least. This person really likes your ass so I’m getting spankings and 🥛🥧. I feel like it would be so loooooud omg 😭 this person will have you chanting their name or I’m getting lots of “ooo yes!” and moaning. Some of you in this pile speak a foreign language, Spanish specifically - “si papi”. “I said the neighbors know my name they way you screamin scratchin yellin” Rip to your neighbors smh🫠

Pile 4:

Shufflemancy -

The Body by Wale ft. Jeremiah

A Seat by Arin Ray

2 hands by Tate McRae

Queen of Swords, Ten of Cups, Justice, Dance, Movement, Mature, & Children

Seasons greetings, pile 4 🌠! This person wants to be “Body to body, cheek to cheek🎶” they want your bodies dancing together between the sheets. Your sp appreciates closeness and wishes to be physically intimate. With this person, they are logical, decisive, and upfront. They value family and honor trust. They could be older than you or have a more traditional perspective on love. For some of you, someone has gray hairs developing (either you or them)🎅🏼. They might have children already as well. Perhaps they are divorced or have had children with former partners? It could also mean your sp is well established in their career and is wishing to settle. If you are already in a relationship with this person, then they could want to make love and have a baby over the holidays 🤰🫃. I’m seeing it would be just you guys alone for Christmas, enjoying a nice glass of wine or champagne. You and your person could be listening to music and will dance to slow jams and then it will progress into something more. Kissing and tearing each other’s clothes off as you stumble towards to the bedroom. “I saw Santa kissing mommy”!? If some of you have children and this isn’t their parent, I suggest you make sure your kids are asleep before kissing this person, they might snoop and be nosy 🤣. I’m seeing you mostly laying on your back or stomach during the act, switching positions from missionary to downward dog. This person wants to fuck with intention✨, by going deep and slow. Their goal is to make sure you climax and get to feel the pleasure you always give them. They are big on giving and receiving. I see this person even running a bath with rose petals or giving you massage afterwards, providing you with aftercare. What a heartwarming moment 💕

[ladythornofrivia]

Mr. Targaryen Will See You Now || (PT. 2)

Modern!Aemond x Reader (four parts)

warnings: (for the future chapters): sex, oral sex, loss of virginity, squirting, stalking, obsession, manipulation, reader being clueless, but not totally innocent, blackmail, p in v sex, blood kink, knife kink, gun kink, handcuff kink, bdsm, masturbation, fingering, cum play, tease, mommy issues.

a/n: now you’ve all been waiting for! Part 2! this time, the reader will be as his soon-to-be secretary. i went to the studio for a photoshoot. i won’t say why, but i’ll be announcing it around next year. stay tune for part 3.

You were thinking about him.

His offer.

It was the night where the decision made you toss and turn into your bed. A one chance in a lifetime, something that will change your life and status for good. Getting a steady job meant a steady source of income and societal actions in the higher system that Aemond Targaryen is in. Meaning challengers. Rules and expectations are higher, something that you’re not easy to strive to change pace or comfort zone. It wasn’t your ideal.

The source of all things common and strivers, you weren’t exactly the type to flip the switch on exact moment. A steady job in a steady life is enough. But what Aemond’s offered you says it all.

Risky.

Practical.

Stability.

Peace for bank account.

A high life devoid of privacy and self-recollection. A highly paced environment will not stop their time for you. You’re a slow turtle.

Your friend teased about how Aemond went stuck in your head. It wasn’t fair, at all. It wasn’t like Aemond ambushed you to say yes, but told you to contemplate of his proposal. How his gleaming violet hues pierced into your soul, begging and demanding all at once. The duality was simple enough for you to understand what kind of man he is.

A perfectionist.

Fumbling your mechanical pencil over and over as you studied the notes on your papers, stack after stack, followed by several energy drinks and stained coffee cups all over a once tidy desk. Horrifying as it sounds, you wished for a proper solution for a distraction to settle down permanently. Your friend hasn’t teased you for days, thank god for that, but you needed a second opinion.

But you didn’t want to call your parents because you chose to sever ties with them, not that anyone needs to know the detail, so you tried improvising a solution other than your friend or anyone else you know. You searched on Google, typing:

“How to make a right decision when some hot guy offered you a high-salary job?”, “How to relax after getting offered a job by a hot CEO?” “How to relax and forget for today after days of thinking about the CEO’s offer?”, “How to sleep properly after trying to distract yourself for days after the amount of torturous hours of endless teasing from a friend and a flashback?”

So far no answer came, just the ones where people often complain on the blog on how bosses are viciously toxic, others posted recordings of the bosses that eventually got fired, both boss and ex-worker. Some co-workers fucked the CEO all the way to the top, and others disposed others by any means necessary in a way of safety net.

Your head was reeling with ache and burn, as if someone crushed your skull and penetrated to a point where the pulse tightened, ready to implode. Spine landed back of your office chair, your head thrown back, mouth parted open and tired eyes closed, needing cold air. The break you took was finding your usual posture slouching and limping, as if you were floating in water. Your arms and back were shivering, and it felt good.

You hated wearing a damn big sweater. You thrashed, screamed for a short second, arms stretched and flung, hair tossed and turned, scrunchie loosened up. Then you were still, back to a limp form on a chair, not sitting like a proper lady with legs spread.

Staring at the white ceiling, you grumbled, “I can’t take this anymore.”

Maybe I should relax for now…too much caffeinated drinks doesn’t serve me enough purpose to stay focus on my final exams. Maybe a hottest shower would do the trick and forget my exams for now. And for tomorrow. Get a massage, and be naked for the night.

Thus, you stood up and left.

The phone rang.

Inwardly groaning, you read the number on your screen.

Unknown.

Eh, I’ll call in for the night.

Clicked your phone to silence, and hopped in naked into the shower. Or a bath that will make you fall asleep naked until the morning.

~~~

The phone rang three days later.

You fell asleep, not being as productive, laziness can be good once in a while.

But who the hell would try to call you first thing in the morning without a fresh cup of matcha latte as a today’s starter?

Yawning and stretching your limbs, cracking your spine, you did the best of your ability to be awake in the system. Relaxing and—

Shit.

I have 30 missed calls!!!!!

Who the hell keeps calling me?

It freaked you out, so you blocked the unknown caller.

A small sense of relief escaped from your parched lips. Drank a bottle of cold water to unwind the coils on your belly and went for a warm shower.

Days after break, you returned to your studies—after a long process of washing and scrubbing the mugs, thrown trashes of empty cans by the kitchen, and wiped surfaces on your desk. As a slow perfectionist, like art, it takes perfection. Not a crease or stain to see in plain sight. For the whole morning, with amount of lavender spray in the bedroom and replacement of new bedsheets from your sweat stain, and carpet vacuumed, everything must feel light and right. According to the website, changing bedsheets for every week. Not two weeks or three. Bacteria infested god knows what, you hated the idea of being sick. Even when sick, you still clean, but your friend insisted she’ll do the chores done in an instant, but you knew that your friend is efficient in her job, but she’s no expert with chores.

Lavender scent carried off on a cold air, you slumped back on the desk, starting over with a writing assignment from one class, chugging on a matcha latte, your phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

Again.

This time, you answered.

What could possibly go wrong?

Miss (Y/N).

“Hello,” you said, pausing. “Who’s this?”

“Have you thought about my offer?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand—you must have the wrong number.”

“You are wasting the benefit of my time and success, Miss (Y/N).”

Your spit choked back. “Sir—Mr. Targaryen. Yes, hello! How may I assist you?”

“Have you come to an important decision?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m still studying for my exams. I haven’t been able to sleep properly for days. I…” you paused again, treading the words wisely. “This is something I can’t miss. I have to graduate.”

You heard him sigh.

“There are no excuses, Miss (Y/N). It’s now or never.”

This time, you sighed, foot tapping in an uneven beat, boisterous and clumsy.

“I’ll give you another day to reconsider. But if you don’t answer my call, I’ll pass this offer to someone who will be more sufficient and quick in my service than you’ll ever be. I don’t think you’ll have what it takes to be in my company.”

Your heart leapt.

You bent forward, suspense caving in. “Ah, no, that’s not what I meant, sir—”

“I don’t think so. Not with your late response. I like my staff members to be as punctual, strictly on time. I could only excuse this once to those who are abnormally late. Anyone who shows up with punctuality meant they’ve got what it takes to be more potential regarding to future promotions.”

“I—First of all, how did you get this number?”

“We’ll meet again tonight around 9. Don’t silence your phone.”

And hang up without a second thought.

“What a fucking jackass,” you stated, and with anger rising, you took out on the scrubbing and dusting off furniture.

~~~

Hours later, you anticipated for the phone call, since you’ve done all the studying and cleaning without a hassle on being cranky—not a person disrupted you since your friend went out the whole day to god knows what she’s doing. Results concluded that a proper, lazy rest for three days has been helpful to late cranky hours.

Plopping on a couch with blank television staring back at your tired posture, you weren’t in the mood to watch romance or comedy, especially those characters who are acting like jerks at the first part. Maybe as a kid, you hated bad boys, when as a teen, you loved—you’re a die hard fan of bad boys, thanks to young adult romance novels. But as a grown woman, you’re unsure, but it’s clear-cut that you hated men who carried themselves in their attitude like a dumb child that’s required to be babied.

One man-child after another. It makes you think you wanted a flamethrower to burn, and eating boxes of truffles and a Starbucks drink, watching a whole building collapse to ashes.

The back of your head thumped onto the couch pillows, counting one to ten, more like counting sheep, but you knew it was a bad idea, so you ate heavy chunks of strawberry ice cream on a white ceramic bowl, thinking whether you should do a pros and cons list.

Shit, I made a total embarrassment of myself to a hot young CEO. Even when he did tell me to reconsider his proposal, there’s no way in hell he’ll promote me. Not with the plans I have, not with my delays. He’ll shoved it down on my throat by making me watch another lady settling a high score at the office, and him smirking at my direction. I had a feeling he wants me to be part of his company, it’s weird how he’s the first person—the first CEO—to beg for my existence and be part of a rescue team on his prestigious company. Almost like he’s been ready his whole life. No other CEO would do this; every CEO would think of middle class people as nobodies or a pile of trash. How did he get my number? I wish I know.

Wait, did I just say “hot”?

The phone rang, in a familiar tune.

Nearly tossing the bowl behind you, you settled on the coffee table and picked up the call.

“Miss (Y/N)?”

“Sir.”

“Have you come to make a decision?”

Good money, good pay, and peace for the bank account.

“I have.”

“Well?”

“What time should I be there for work?”

“8 AM. You’ll begin working here around 9.”

“Done.”

“I knew you’ll give in. Eventually.”

“Huh, persistent much?”

“Persistence is a good quality in a man.”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night’s rest.”

“Good night.”

You hang up and screamed into the nearest pillow you find.

~~~

Months later….

It’s been forever since you were welcome into the company by the CEO himself. Long story short, you got accepted, without a process of long interview and long wait for phone calls for a confirmation. Easy does it. New office, drinking cups of coffee by the fancy coffee machine and water dispenser and a fridge with ingredients and proper food—not a TV dinner. Most are healthy quality.

But it came with a cost.

You were now under training and supervision of your new boss, who won’t stop staring at you. Clearly he was still fuming of the last interactions he attempted through your phone, labeled as Unknown.

You understood why it was an unknown number. Privacy is a top priority for someone who is known in a local news article online and on social media. Most pictures on social media were focused on the other side of his family, the only time Aemond’s shown in the pictures was blurry.

The usual routine has routine, but one remained the same. You always tied your hair to an updo with a scrunchie.

Stacking and organizing the files and binders by name and number in order, after dusting off of his shelf and toss the useless files on a shredder machine. Whirring on the machine has gotten louder, but didn’t ease your anxiety from his ever watchful eyes. His nose somewhat flaring, and his hands kept opening and closing, attempting to stay tranquil by touching the fabric on his pants, sometimes the items on his large desk.

Aemond kept staring at you for as long as he could and you found yourself at a most vulnerable position. Everything was a mess, but thankfully all of his files are on his computer, including your laptop and Bluetooth headset and ergonomic pens, solely provided by the company, as you play fetch with the CEO, playing his do’s and don’t’s.

Day by day, each time you clocked into work mode, Aemond’s presence drew near. As if he was critiquing you through gaze.

“Why is Aemond staring at you? Have you done something to piss him off?” your co-worker asked.

“I had no clue. Is he always like this?”

“His face usually scowls to everyone, but he’s staring at you without blinking. Kinda freaks me out. Gives me the hibbie-jibbies.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you said in silence, knowing he has sharp ears he might fire you on the spot.

“Like he could hear us.”

“Shh! Would you keep it down!?”

“Anyway, I have to go. Oh, and, Mr. Targaryen wants to see you.”

The thing was, he always wanted to see you.

The past conversation went away as you tried to focus on the present.

Turning back again, and gathered the files Aemond needed for the next appointment. He didn’t need to go at the meeting. If he simply wanted to go, he would, but everything is convenient with advanced technology, online meetings have been a thing for today’s world. If he does want to show up at a mundane event, he would’ve done in a flash, and all eyes would be on him.

“Here are the papers that you requested, sir,” you uttered, low lashes fluttered towards him, hoping to release you from his sky-high office.

“This should be easy to handle with the indulgences of the client I’m working with. Awful man needs to be settled immediately.”

He flicked his wrist.

The screen on his computer brightened with an annoying tune. And deep, distorted voice on the other side of the screen.

You could only offer a short nod, not knowing what he meant. So you bowed and exited.

Finally free.

Without the dark hours, you were the only one left, aside from a janitor and couple security guards roaming the building to dismiss anyone who’s still resided at the office. The office hours are usually closed at 7:30 PM. But for this month, the boss’s notified the staff that they’re off around 5 PM. Aemond’s had been testing the work hours, based on New Zealand with a total of 6 hours of work instead of a regular 9-5. But not for the CEO.

There’s no rest for the wicked.

Finally, at the coffee lounge and a cafeteria, the last member of the cooking staff gave you two packs of cherry cheese danish and an empty cup for a caramelized coffee by the coffee machine standing nearby. You haven’t ate since the moment you stepped in at work. You were in the rush. Stomach twisted in pain now loosened from a good chunk of appetite stuffed into the mouth.

Sat by the ceramic bench, you hummed in delight, feeling like a warm hug, with a touch of caramelized coffee with cream powder. You haven’t had a good break since you were stuck in the room with him. A good coffee weighs the heaviness on your shoulders.

Suffocating.

With that, you emptied the food in your stomach and threw the cup and brown packets in the trash bin, and leaving the tray on top, striding forward to head back and grab your belongings and call it for tonight.

With a quiet office, all surrounded by sturdy walls and soundproof glass, you managed to relax, determined to go home.

The door shut in.

You turned and spotted Aemond locking the door.

“Sir,” you uttered, in question.

Without warning, he pinned you down on desk with a knife close to your face, the pointed end nearly touching your eye.

You screamed, but silenced you with a kiss.

Your first kiss.

“Don’t say a word,” he snarled.

And with the knife he held against your face, his hot breath tickled your face.

“You wouldn’t want to say a word to anyone, would you?”

Frightened, you shook your head. Laying still as if you’re trying to please him in a way to leave you alone.

He hadn’t inched away; knife on his hand slithered its tip across your skin, leaving your staggered, breath held captive, watching his blank and unsteady focus drinking it all in. The knife pinched your skin; Aemond slashed the black stockings in one swoop. Then, his knife went his way inside the ripped skirt he torn off, your pink thongs displayed before him.

You wanted to kick him, but he made sure to keep you still.

Rip!

The panties torn apart cleanly, your wet cunt displayed. It was a nightmare. Blush fell onto your cheeks as you watched him knelt down, still pinning you down, he licked your parted folds, lapped his warm tongue in three deep strokes.

By then, your cunt squirted shortly.

And he found it amusing.

“Be a good secretary,” he said, and plunged the hilt of the knife inside you.

Your moans escaped but Aemond kissed your lips, you could taste yourself in his lips, still in shock and denial that your lips could barely move.

Terror flooded within you; his hand bloodied as he inserted the knife’s hilt inside, urging your desperate, clinging cunt, growing warmer, tighter, coiled to a tight flex, oozing and flowing. You never had proper sex.

The knife has taken your virginity.

“Stop~” you uttered breath ragged breaths, nearly bucking your hips, cunt yearning.

Aemond denied, attempted to go faster, and the dark hilt of the knife pinched your walls right. The flush of hot squirt splashed on his uniform, even yours. Humiliating as it was, at least you’re somewhat thankful that it wasn’t his cock.

How long has he wanted this?

“Sir, please stop—”

“I will stop when I wanted to stop, Miss (Y/N). You’re going to love this. Whether you like it or not.” He unzipped his pants with one hand while his other pinned your hands above your head and stroke himself in front of your exhausted state. You couldn’t object anymore. His climax is about to reach, and his hot cum exploded, splashing everywhere on your skin. Even your face. His ragged breath overtook the silence, and left you defenseless. Letting your wrists go.

Everything was hot inside your private office.

“Fuck,” he moaned, eyes closed.

It felt right for him.

Seeing you all bruised and bloodied up. The hilt of the knife he held on his bloody hand—from the gripping the sharp end—it was a mix of your cum and blood, from tightening its grip.

Then he zipped his pants up, and left you cold on the table, saying, “Make sure no one sees you, Miss (Y/N). And if you mention this to anyone, I’ll kill you.”

His hand yanked the scrunchie out of your hair, some hair stands plucked, leaving your lips a soft yelp.

Then the door slammed shut.

Hollow. And emptiness.

Only your cries filled the stained and wrecked office, wondering how it went wrong, wondering how you can still breathe. The scars on your thigh wasn’t deep, but needs medicine and a clean shower, and a long rest. From there, you contemplate without hesitation. Your heart ached from shock and distress, a feeling where you wanted to throw up all the good food you ate earlier, but it was no use.

Perhaps you made a mistake on taking his offer.

~~~

As for Aemond, it was the first part of his plan. The red bruises on your wrist and absolution on your skin, laced in dark and wet crimson, from a torn underwear and stockings, the rush stirred in his veins and heart. And thus, more games he plans to pursue, seeing if you could withstand and beyond.

Somewhere in his head, the voice came in again. He wanted it to go away. The blood on his hand went cold, stinging from gripping the blade so tightly when he forced the hilt inside her warmth.

In the midst of stopping, he snapped his neck. In anger, he didn’t want to hear that voice again.

It’s about damn time he found a new toy to play with.

With a scrunchie he confiscated from you, yanked it away, as he went to the nearest elevator, reaching to his office, rushing to his chair to undo his pants once more and wrapped your scrunchy in several movements, until he became undone with his pleasure. He didn’t care of his staff coming in. But nobody entered. The staff went home and no one could hear Aemond’s throaty pleasure emanating.

The fainted smell of flowers on the scrunchy and his cum and blood from his injured right hand intertwined, as he sniffed it.

Divine and innocence.

Just the way he liked it.

reblogs/comments are greatly appreciated 🌹

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[slime-hoe]

You mentioned you didn’t know how Steve would survive I figured I’d try my best to give ideas. Use or discard as you please. Also I tried to write in the present tense but that backfired so now it’s all screwy I’ll fix it later I guess. I promise I understand how to write I’m just too tired to care rn.

Max notices Steve headed into Eddie’s trailer. She may not be fully present but she’s heard enough to realize that this is capital ‘w’ weird. So she begins to snoop. Using her walkie to contact Lucas who breaks away from the party at Benny’s to talk to her. She peeks inside the boy’s conversation just barely audible through the thin metal wall and single pane window. She’s filling Lucas in when the lights suddenly flicker. She would brush it off if it weren’t for how still Steve seemed. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. The Upside Down is about to take another brother away from her kind of wrong.

She starts banging on the glass but seeing as Steve is currently Catatonic and Eddie is too busy freaking the fuck out about the floating guy in his living room to notice the window remains shut and the front door remains locked.

She calls a code red and begins to pick the lock using a long forgotten paperclip or hairpin she found in the dirt around the trailer. Meanwhile Lucas steals a bike from the trunk of one of his teammates trucks and begins to bike to forest hills with a desperation that he hasn’t felt since Will disappeared.

When Max finally tumbles through the door she tries everything she can to get Steve’s attention. This mostly entails her shouting, screaming, slapping, scratching and when he floats too high to reach throwing shit at Steve’s floating body.

She’s frantically looking for something else to throw when she notices Wayne’s radio. On the counter. Remembering how El used static to focus she turns it on cranking the volume all the way up and tunes it to a station she knows doesn’t come through clear this side of Hawkins. As she holds the blaring static above her head standing on the Munson’s coffee table the static begins to clear right as Steve’s body slams flat against the ceiling “No no no!” She screams her face ruby red and streaked with tears her arms shaking as she continues to hold the the radio aloft desperately trying to get the static to return as Queen’s Hammer To Fall comes into focus.

Steve is cornered by Vecna in Tina’s bathroom. It started off exactly the same as it had two years prior. At least until Nancy’s face begins to morph into Eddie’s, and her voice distorts and deepens into Eddie’s voice. The words change but the message stays the same “You Steve Harrington are undeserving of love” he backs up pleading for them to understand, to look at him to see him. But their faces continue to change melting into an abstract mess of curls and teeth before the lights above the sink burst and the faces are consumed by suffocating darkness. Panicking Steve tries to open the door but it’s locked and the thing is pressing its cold slimy body against his pinning him to the door. He can barely make out its shape in the darkness and is unsurprisingly blindsided by the cold fingers caressing the side of his face. “Poor thing all you ever wanted was to be loved.” Sharp nails traced their way along his jaw “Such a shame I can’t provide that for you.” The monster’s hand changed corse once again using a single bony finger to tilt Steve’s chin up until he could feel its stale breath hit his face. “But at least I can take your pain away” in a flash the finger under his chin was replaced by a monstrous hand gripping the lower half of his face.

He becomes aware of hammer to fall playing outside the bathroom door and inspired by the pounding drums and screaming guitar (and the claws creeping closer to his eves) grabs ahold of Vecna’s hand and lifts his legs to his chest before using his body weight and momentum to drop to the floor Vecna snaps his arm part way through but the maneuver still works sending Vecna headfirst through the door. Steve breaks into a sprint and narrowly escapes.

(My original very detailed fight/escape was deleted by tumblr 🖕so I hope this is acceptable)

Steve’s arm snapping is barely audible above Max’s screams and Freddy Mercury’s staticky Voice. Steve’s eyes fly open just before he falls to the ground landing face first into the Munson’s orange shag carpet. (Thank god for that extra bit of cushion)

Steve’s sudden collapse startles Eddie enough that he runs. He runs because holy shit there’s a dead guy and a murderous ghost in my house oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Luckily it’s right about now that Lucas makes it to the trailer (let’s imagine Benny’s is close ish to Forest Hills). Putting 2+2 together and ending up with 5 aka He assumes Eddie got possessed and did something to Steve Lucas jumps off the “borrowed” bike to chase and tackle Eddie to the ground. Eventually they figure shit out when a very shaken Max and Steve (and a few neighbors) come to see what’s going on. Also if you decide to go way off cannon and keep hopper alive and in Hawkins post starcourt he can also show up around this time for some added comedic relief

Regardless they end up camping out in the back of Eddie’s van to talk things out and you know eventually drive Steve to the ER.

Yeah. It occurred to me that there’s only one possible path for this that fits the narrative tentpoles I’ve been building. I looked for others but nah. This is right.

Steve in that AU def goes to Eddie for drugs before Spring Break, asks for more than what Eddie has on him. Says he wants to sleep. Eddie is planning to upcharge the hell out of him, but money is money, even if the customer is a prick. Repeats it again at Eddie’s place, and for whatever reason, Eddie hears it differently that time, enough to make him pause and listen for real. Eddie is smarter than his grades. So he catches the way ‘sleep’ sounds like a stand in for something else, connects it to how Steve said he wanted more than a dose or two. Decides immediately he won’t sell him anything at all.

Eddie is listening now because he can’t stand the guy, but Dustin and the others would be destroyed by this. He’s not sure how the fuck he’s going to help or stop Harrington, but paying attention seems like the first step. Prompts Steve to talk more, explain why he wants the ket. So he catches a phrase that sounds familiar. A reference to a story that he knows from the letters he still rereads on rough days. A reference that only one person could know.

Eddie figures it out all at once.

Eddie finds out who X is, connects the dots on why the letters stopped, and before he can speak, or apologize, or cry, or connect the letters to the guy who just wants to ‘sleep’, Steve’s eyes roll back in his head.

[mrs-hatake]

Hi hi , I've been really wanting a fic with reader/mc having a smaller chest and her being insecure about it

Do you think the LADS men will care about her size or love her regardless?

Thanks!!

a/n: thank you for sending in a request, anon! i hope you enjoy the boys' reaction and i'm sorry for caleb's abrupt ending but it's midnight where i'm from and i'm very sleepy :(

Sylus:

“I’m not coming out!”

Sylus sighs heavily as he robs the spot between his eyes. As much as he loves Y/N, she is very stubborn. Usually, he tolerates such behavior and enjoys seeing her reactions when he teasers but today, he’s just so tired. 

They’ve been shopping all morning for the perfect dress for a dinner party they’re invited to this Friday night. Feet sore, head throbbing from the loud and obnoxious music playing and stomach rumbling with hunger, Sylus has half a mind to snatch Y/N and return home to the comfort of his dark and quiet home. Screw the party and the perfect dress. Y/N has a walk-in closet full of pretty dresses and outfits. A new one is completely unnecessary.

“Sweety,” Sylus sighs, “You’ve been in there for fifteen minutes. Either come out or we’re going home.” he tries to sound as gentle as he can to hide his frustrations but Sylus is at his limit.

At that moment, a sweet voice, one that is no doubt concealing a similar exhaustion Sylus is experiencing, asks from above, “May I help you with anything, sir?”

Looking up, Sylus meets the questioning gaze of a salesperson standing next to the leather chair he’s sitting on. The smile on her lips is tight but to an untrained eyes, it will come off as an easy going and friendly smile.

Wanting to end this torturous day, Sylus just points at the fitting room Y/N is in, “She won’t come out. 

The woman nods her head. The raging storm of determination radiating takes Sylus aback. He watches, marveled, as the woman knocks on the door and, somehow, manages to convince Y/N to step out. 

“I don’t like it.” Y/N pouts, using her arms to shield her chests. 

Sylus lifts his eyebrow. It’s rare for him to see Y/N acting so shy. Especially after being together for a long time.

“May I ask why?” The salesperson asks, eyes examining what Y/N is wearing.

Glancing between the woman and Sylus, Y/N reluctantly uncrosses her arms. “I hate…this.” she gestures at the top she’s wearing. 

“What’s wrong with it?”

Y/N frowns as she explains, “It’s something a woman with a…larger chest should wear. Not me.” she finishes her statement with a mutter towards the end.

Sylus’ thick line of his eyebrows jump in surprise. He has never heard Y/N be so insecure about herself before. Sure, she’ll complain about having a bad hair day or make a criticizing comment about some of her pictures but those are normal things. He has never seen her be so self conscious that she’s hiding her beauty. 

“That’s because you’re wearing a bigger size.” The salesperson calmly explains, “It needs to be smaller.”

“I can’t go any smaller, this is my size!” Sylus knows that Y/N didn’t mean to shriek but she tends to forget to control her tone of voice when she’s frustrated.

“I understand that, miss.” Calm as the sea, the woman further explains, “This top is meant to compliment a woman’s chest regardless of their size. That’s why you have to go two sizes smaller.”

Y/N stares at the woman with doubt. She bites her lower lip in contemplation before agreeing to the suggestion.

“There, that looks much better.” The salesperson states after Y/N changes into a smaller size.

And true to her words, the built in cups push her smaller chest upwards, making them look bigger and fuller. Y/N is glowing with delight as she pays for her top and maxi length skirt.

On their drive home, Sylus stays silent. 

It’s only when they’re home where Y/N is steaming her new clothes with a happy tune that Sylus’ asks, “Since when has this been an issue?”

Glancing at him, Y/N tilts her head. 

“Your chest.” Sylus clarifies. 

Shame washes over Y/N in waves as heat warms her cheeks in embarrassment, “I don’t know she shrugs.

“Y/N.”

Unable to avoid answering the question since Sylus used his deep and commanding voice as Onychinus’ leader, Y/N replies, “I just thought…you might not like them anymore.” Her voice grows quiet with each word.

“What?” Sylus gawks at her. For the third time that day, Y/N has taken her by surprise. He doesn’t have time to dwell on how he, as a crime lord, should always be alert. His brain is too focused on what Y/N has said. 

“Why would you think that?”

Again, Y/N shrugs. 

This time, Sylus doesn’t push her. He waits with the patience of a monk until she’s comfortable to speak. 

But when she says nothing, Sylus just sighs. 

He talks large but quiet steps to where Y/N is standing by the closet and gently turns her around to face him, “I’ve never stopped loving them.” he explains.

And Y/N wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to take pity on her, Sylus quickly adds, “I never cared about their size either. I always found them cute and you know how crazy I get when you wear those adorable knitted bralette.” 

“You’re just saying that.” Y/N mutters.

“Y/N,” Sylus cups her chin and tilts it upwards, “I meant. I love every inch of you. If you gain weight, I’d still love you. If you lose it, my heart will skip a beat at the sight of you. If you want to get bigger breasts, I’ll support you if that’s what makes you happy. You want to keep them the way they are, then I’ll continue loving you. It doesn’t matter what I want, all that matters is what you want and whatever makes you happy.”

With each word Sylus utters, Y/N’s eyes well up with tears. She blinks them away but a single tear manages to escape. Sylus quickly wipes it away.

“What if I don’t have any breasts?” Y/N asks, tone very serious.

“Wouldn’t bother me.” Sylus’ answer is firm, confident that his feelings wouldn’t change.

“What if I have four tits?” 

Sylus rolls his eyes, a laugh coming out as a huff, “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

Y/N beams at him. She leans on her tiptoes to peck his lips, “Thank you.” she whispers.

“I love you.” Sylus leans down and returns the kiss, “And I meant everything I said.”

Y/N nods and presses her head against his chest, sighing in contempt when Sylus hugs her.

Zayne:

Zayne likes that he has a routine; one that he follows to a T. His small circle of friends and his colleagues tease him about his eccentrics but Zayne pays them the mind. Just knowing how the day will play it puts his mind at ease. 

Zayne absolutely abhors when things don’t go his way. And even when he is known as a problem solver, he just loves predictability. Waking up every morning at four thirty sharp to lie in bed, processing his existence and then getting out of bed to work out for an hour is a routine he’s been following since high school. 

The baker at the bakery five blocks away from his hospital has memorized that Zayne always steps into her bakery at a quarter to seven to grab his usual breakfast; a turkey and egg with cheese croissant and a black coffee. He’s at work at exactly seven. Has his lunch at one in the afternoon and his home at six in the evening to continue on with his routine. 

So, when the time finally comes where he and Y/N start to date, he changes his routine. Zayne will be honest, the change was stress inducing but he managed to perform little changes. He still follows his weekend routine, however, it will be at Y/N’s apartment. They both have agreed since their relationship is only a few months old, it’s much too early to move in together. 

This is how we find Zayne having breakfast with Y/N on a lazy Saturday morning. He’s sipping his black coffee in one hand while his other is holding his sleek black tablet which projects a hologram version of the morning paper. 

“Do you know Dr. Ivannikov?” Y/N asks after Zayne places his coffee mug on the kitchen table.

Zayne doesn’t look away from the newspaper, “The plastic surgeon? Yeah I know him.” 

“Is he any good?”

Zayne shifts his gaze from his tablet to glance at his girlfriend, “Why?”

Known for his attention to detail, Zayne doesn't miss the minute way Y/N’s shoulders tense and how forced her causal tone is.

“No reason.”

Curious, Zayne puts away his tablet and pays his full attention to Y/N who is avoiding his questioning gaze.

Zayne stares. Intense and demanding for answers. Maybe it’s the jealousy of having another doctor brought up in the little haven or the fact Y/N is being secretive that has him frowning, unaware of how suffocating he’s being.

“I want to get breast implants.” The words pass through Y/N’s lips in a rushed whisper. Embarrassment dripping from every word. 

Zayne blinks as he tries to register what he heard. “I’m sorry?” he leans in closer, “I didn’t catch that.”

Y/N groans but she can’t escape Zayne’s hunger for curiosity.

“I don’t know.” She shrugs, still refusing to meet Zayne’s hazel green eyes. “I just don’t think they look nice. Every time I shop for clothes, they don’t compliment me at all. I want to buy those sexy lingerie but I’m too flat to show off anything. And…”

This time, she does meet Zayne’s gaze as she continues, “I’m worried you don’t find me all that attractive.”

Now that Zayne thinks about it, Y/N’s confession does explain why their most intimate moments were always done in the dark. He assumed that it’s because Y/N is shy and embarrassed but now he knows better.

“I can call him right now if you want and have the surgery for tomorrow.” Zayne states. As he leans back into his chair, he doesn’t miss the dejection shadowing Y/N’s beautiful face.

“But I’ll only do it if you really want this. I am a little hurt that you think of me as a shallow person and that you’d rather go through extreme measures than expressing your concerns with me but since it’s your body then it’s your choice to do whatever you want with it.” He finishes by crossing his arms across his chest.

Hearing all of that is like eating a bowl of needles; harsh and difficult to swallow. Y/N knows that Zayne is being logical but she thought he’d wax poems about her beauty. 

“What do you think, Zayne?” Y/N asks, heart beating in her ears in expectancy. 

“I think,” Zayne interlocks his fingers and rests his chin on them, “That you’re perfect the way you are.”

Y/N hears Zayne clear as crystal but she doesn’t process what he said, “What?”

“I don’t think the implants are necessary and I love how you appear. As I said earlier, however, if that’s what You want then I’m not going to stop you.” Zayne simply shrugs.

A volcano erupts in Y/N’s tummy and fills it up with millions of fluttering butterflies. She pushes her chair back and walks to where is sitting across from her. She invites herself on his lap and wraps her arms around his shoulders.

“I love you.” She kisses the tip of his nose, “Thank you for being honest.”

Zayne smiles at her. He brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I love you too.”

Caleb:

It’s very rare for Y/N and Caleb to have a week off from work at the same time. Especially with how hectic their work is getting. Mountains of reports, long missions and sleepy nights. They’re at their wits end.

That’s why, when their schedule for July was released, they’re ecstatic to learn that they’ll be on break together. So they decided to take advantage of the heat and rent a vacation home at the beach located an hour away from Linkon.

“Hurry up! We’re gonna be late!” Caleb shouts at the bottom of the stairs as he glances at his wrist watches, “All the good spots will be gone.”

He and Y/N should’ve left the beach house ten minutes ago but Y/N is running late. Which is odd because Y/N is punctual and would rather eat chalk than be late to anything. 

Fed up with waiting, Caleb takes to the stairs by twos.

“I’m coming in!” He announces before opening Y/N’s bedroom door. 

He finds her standing in front of the full length mirror; hands on her hips as she twists and turns while examining her reflection. 

“Does this look weird?” Y/N asks while pointing at her pastel green halter top. 

Caleb’s ears are pretty pink when Y/N stands closer to him, as if the shorter distance will help him with his assessment. 

“I think they’re–it’s cute!”

Y/N groans, loud and unladylike. Her eyes roll as she clicks her tongue. “I don’t want you to think they’re cute, you should think they’re sexy!”

Wait. 

“What?” 

Caleb’s breath catches in his throat as the words are registered in his brain. “What?”

Again, Y/N rolls her eyes. “My tits. They should be hot. Not cute.” She explains as if she’s talking to someone is intellectually challenging. 

“Oh.”

Y/N sighs. 

“Just forget it.” Y/N turns to change into a tankini to save herself from the embarrassment but a tight grip holds her in place.

“They’re hot. You’re hot.” Caleb’s bounces between Y/N’s chest and her eyes, ears still pink but they’re much brighter than before.

“Now you’re just pitying me.” Y/N crosses her arms, a sour taste on her tongue at the thought of Caleb singing empty praises.

“No, I mean it! You’ve always been and I’ve always found you attractive.”

Y/N doesn’t trust Caleb’s confession despite how truthful and genuine it sounds.

“Really?” She quirks an eyebrow.

“Yes!” Caleb nods frantically. “Do you know how hard it is to fight off those filthy mutts drooling all over you?”

Heart hammering in her chest, Y/N lowers her arms, suddenly feeling shy. “You do that?”

“Yes!” Caleb doesn’t screech but it’s pretty close. “You’re smoking hot and it’s a fight to the death type of situation and I’ll be damned if I don’t come out victorious.”

It’s intense and all too much but his confession makes Y/N’s thoughts fuzzy. Warmth bubbles in her tummy and goosebumps prickle her skin as Caleb continues complimenting her.

“We don’t have to go swimming.” Y/N interrupts Caleb who is retelling an incident where he punched a guy for making a crewed comment about you. 

“What, why not?” He gasps because Y/N has been begging to go to the beach.

“Because we have a lot of things to talk about.” Y/N then shyly smiles at him, “Like when did you start liking me and how long I’ve been liking you.”

[misshoneyimhome]

Since it’s Christmas season, Inexperienced reader felt like being a brat and wanted to test William’s patience with Alex living with them and family coming to visit she decided she wanted to be on the naughty list. She decided her to leave her panties and little pictures of herself and leave in his suite case, car, and his space in the locker room to remind him what’s he’s missing after she’s his good girl but sometimes she’s needs a reminder who’s in charge.

Happy holidays, love! 🥰

To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure how this piece would turn out, but I decided to just go with the flow 🙈🎄 Because, of course, Inexperienced!reader and Willy deserve both a loving and slightly naughty Christmas 😘💋

I hope you enjoy this little chapter, and once again, happy holidays to everyone! Sending you all lots of love ❤️

Tropes & warnings: 18+ smut, Inexperienced!reader x Willy, naughty photoshoot, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, sex toy (magic wand), unprotected sex (p in v), cum inside

Word count: 3.8K

➼｡ﾟ

A Nonsense Christmas I Inexperienced!reader x Willy

The sound of holiday classics drifted softly through the apartment as you straightened a sprig of mistletoe over the kitchen threshold. Outside, snow dusted the city, blanketing everything in a hush. Inside, fairy lights twinkled, gifts waited under the tree, and the scent of cinnamon and pine wafted through every room. It was Christmas season—cosy, lovely, and oh so warm. But beneath all that sugary sweetness, you’d decided to stir up something a little spicy.

You’d caught wind of his photoshoot—William’s—just last week. A sleek magazine spread had left your cheeks warm, your heart fluttering, cunt dripping, and a wicked little idea forming in your mind. After over a year together, this was your chance to be a holiday tease, to see what happened when you tested William’s patience in your own cheeky, festive way. You wanted to be his good girl, truly you did, but sometimes a holiday needed a little naughtiness to make it truly memorable.

The apartment you shared with William was a merry chaos this December. Family was due to arrive in a few days—parents, siblings, a few cousins—and Alex, his brother, was already living with you both for a while. The space was full of laughter, good food, and the comfortable bustle of the holidays. But it also meant privacy was scarce, and that made your plan all the more thrilling. If William wanted to stay calm and collected, well, you were about to see just how far you could push him.

You started small. The first surprise was a pair of delicate, lacy red panties, tucked subtly into his training bag before he left for practice. When he opened it to grab a spare hoodie, he’d find that little gift waiting, a silent, provocative message. You imagined his face—slightly flushed, brows raised, that crooked smirk tugging at his lips—wondering what you were up to.

Later that afternoon, while he was gone, you dressed up in a dark green satin robe trimmed with faux white fur at the collar—festive, yet undeniably sensual. Underneath, the lingerie set you’d chosen—a daring dark red number—hugged your curves. You adjusted your phone’s timer and took a few playful selfies in front of the Christmas tree: a suggestive tilt of your hips, a knowing smile, the twinkle of lights across your bare skin. These photos were just for him. The playlist on your phone danced through holiday tunes, and right then, “A Nonsense Christmas” hummed softly, the silly, flirtatious lyrics fuelling your courage. If William’s shoot had inspired you, your own was going to leave him speechless.

You picked the best snapshot, printed it out, and placed it in a tiny envelope adorned with a candy cane sticker. That evening, when you knew he’d head out to his car to pick up Alex from wherever he’d wandered off to, he’d find that photo carefully slipped inside the glove compartment, waiting like a secret treat.

And you didn’t stop there. The next morning, while humming under your breath and sipping cocoa, you snuck into the closet where his game day suit hung. His locker room routine was sacred and placing another little Polaroid—and a pair of black lace panties—tucked inside his jacket pocket would guarantee that when he got to the match, he’d have a reminder of exactly what he was missing at home. It was risky, but that was the point. You wanted him thinking about you while trying to keep a straight face around the guys. Would he blush? Would he grin? You could almost see him pressing his lips together to hide a smirk as he discovered your latest surprise.

By the time the evening rolled around, you’d delivered those three gifts—training bag, car, and suit jacket—and you knew William’s patience was fraying beautifully. His texts had become peppered with suggestive hints and thinly veiled threats like, “Just wait until we’re alone, älskling,” and, “You’re playing with fire.” And when he came home after the third discovery, you caught a glimpse of something dark and wanting in his gaze before Alex burst in from the kitchen, cheerfully oblivious.

That night, after Alex yawned and went to his room, you found yourself finally alone with William in the dim glow of the Christmas tree’s lights in the living room. Your heart fluttered when he approached you, every step controlled, his eyes locked onto yours.

“What,” he asked softly, voice dripping with amusement and frustration, “do you think you’re doing?”

You batted your lashes, feigning innocence. “Spreading holiday cheer?” you offered sweetly. You were again in that festive robe, tied just loosely enough that he could see the barest hint of something lacy beneath. You watched his gaze drop there, then return to your face, a slow grin forming.

“You’re testing me, aren’t you?” he said, his voice low, his accent more pronounced than usual. “First my bag, then the car, and now… the game day suit, really?” His tone was incredulous, but also thrilled. He loved this side of you, the secret part of you that dared to be bold for him.

You shrugged, lips curving. “Just wanted you to remember who you’re coming home to. Maybe I wanted to make sure you keep your head in the game. Maybe I wanted to imagine how you’d look trying not to blush in front of your teammates.”

He stepped closer, catching your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. “You’ve been very naughty,” he murmured, and heat pooled in your belly. “Leaving your panties and pictures everywhere—did you think I wouldn’t take my time teaching you a lesson when we’re finally alone?”

Your breath caught, words momentarily failing you. This was exactly what you wanted: the push and pull, the playful tension, the promise of a delightful punishment for your mischief. You arched a brow, still holding onto that last shred of bravado. “Who says I don’t like lessons?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, and placed a firm hand on your waist, pulling you flush against him. “I guess we’ll find out.” His breath was warm against your neck as he leaned in, trailing the faintest of kisses along your jaw. “You know what happens to brats at Christmas, don’t you?”

Your heart pounded. “They get coal?” you teased, grinning.

A wicked glint appeared in his eyes. “Oh, you’ll get something better than coal,” he promised softly. “I’m going to remind you exactly who’s in charge here.”

The surge of heat and excitement that washed over you was undeniable. You were craving this; the rush of his reaction, the tender but authoritative way he planned to show you your place in the best possible way. You had learned quickly how to push his buttons—and how gladly he would answer.

Slowly, he guided you further into the shadowed intimacy of the living room, the soft glow of the Christmas tree casting flickering patterns across his face. The faint scent of pine and cinnamon lingered in the air, but all you could really focus on was him—his steady grip on your waist, his breath warm against your skin, the way he commanded the space without even trying.

“Better than coal, huh?” you murmured, trying to keep a hint of that playful confidence, your hands steadying yourself against his chest. Your voice sounded breathier than you intended, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

His fingers toyed with the edge of your robe’s sash, knuckles grazing your belly. “Oh, much better,” he assured you, words rolling out in that low, accented purr that made your toes curl. “You’ve been pushing me, älskling. Leaving me those little surprises—in front of my teammates…” His tone turned wry. “Do you know how hard it was to keep a straight face in front of the guys? Making sure they weren’t looking over my shoulder…”

A shiver danced along your spine as you imagined him discovering your naughty gifts, struggling to hide his reaction. The thrill of it surged inside you again. “I just wanted to keep you on your toes,” you said softly, tilting your head back as his body pressed closer.

He hummed, and the sound vibrated through you. “You wanted to fucking taunt me,” he murmured, slipping one finger under the robe’s tie, pulling it loose with languid precision. “To see what I’d do when you kept teasing, kept tempting, kept acting like a brat…” He paused, the robe falling open just enough to show the lacy lingerie underneath. His gaze darkened as it swept over what you’d chosen—something festive, black, so very sheer. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You swallowed, your breath catching as his fingers skimmed along the curve of your breast, just above the lace. “Maybe,” you whispered. “Depends on what you have planned.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending another rush of heat through your veins. “Such a brave little thing,” he said, tilting your chin up again so that your eyes met his. “Don’t worry. I won’t disappoint you.”

In that gentle light, he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a slow, claiming kiss. His hand slipped lower, curling over your hip, drawing you against his body so you could feel exactly how much your antics had affected him. You gasped into his mouth when he pressed closer, the friction making your head spin, as your hands instinctively grabbed his shoulders.

“Since you wanted to show me what I’m missing,” he murmured between kisses, “it’s only fair I return the favour—show you just what happens when you push me too far.” His breath was hot against your ear now, his voice a low rumble that made your knees weaken. “We have all night. Which means I can take my time.” He let that sink in before trailing his lips along your jaw, down your neck, making you arch into him.

You were trembling, caught somewhere between daring him on and melting under his touch. Your bravado faltered as his hand trailed upward along your thigh, slipping beneath the silky robe to explore the lace edges of your lingerie. Every subtle shift of his body, every quiet hum of approval, reminded you that you were no longer in control—if you ever really had been. You’d handed over the reins the moment you decided to test his patience.

He coaxed your legs apart just enough so he could press closer, each subtle movement deliberate and sure. “So,” he said, voice low, “do you think you’ll be leaving little presents like that again without expecting payback?”

Your heart fluttered wildly as you remembered the naughty photos, the panties hidden away. You thought of his flushed cheeks when he found them, the way he must have scolded himself silently, waiting until the moment he could have you alone like this. “I—” You tried to form a witty comeback, but all that came out was a shaky breath and a quiet moan as he skimmed his fingers lightly against the lace covering your core.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to see your face. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction and something warmer—affection, pride, maybe even amusement at how easily he had unravelled you. “That’s what I thought,” he said softly. His thumb stroked over your hipbone, soothing and possessive all at once. “You’re mine tonight, älskling. All mine. And I’m going to make sure you remember exactly what that means.”

He claimed your mouth again, this time deeper, hungrier. The kiss tugged you into a haze of sensation, each slide of his tongue coaxing you away from any clever remark you might have made. A small shrug of his shoulder and your robe slipped free, floating to the floor. William’s soft, appreciating groan told you he enjoyed the view you’d curated just for him—festive, tempting, and just a touch bratty.

Without a word, he then hooked an arm under your thighs and another around your back, lifting you effortlessly. The room spun briefly as he carried you into the bedroom, and in the gentle glow of the holiday lights from down the hall, he tossed you onto the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight, springs sighing softly.

He surveyed you with hungry eyes, your chosen lingerie swiftly becoming a tattered memory scattered on the floor. The lace he’d just ripped away lay abandoned, and you could feel your pulse hammering at the base of your throat, both shocked and thrilled by his boldness. The way he’d smirked, the way he’d said “Oops” without an ounce of regret—it all sent a delicious shiver down your spine. He was completely unapologetic, and that made your stomach flip with excitement.

“Don’t worry, I’ll replace it,” he promised, voice rich and low, like he was thinking of all the ways he could compensate you—maybe with something even skimpier, more luxurious.

Your cheeks warmed at the thought, heart racing as you realised, he was already plotting future moments like this one. His fingers slid over your exposed skin, his touch deliberate and slow, a calculated assault on your senses. His knuckles grazed over your stomach, then dipped along your ribs, brushing the underside of your breast so lightly it made you arch for more. He never rushed, never forced, but he knew exactly where and how to touch you until you were squirming, trying to keep quiet with Alex asleep just down the hall.

The tension of maintaining silence only heightened your arousal. Every time you let out a stifled moan, William’s smirk deepened, satisfied with your struggle. He was taking pleasure in this secret game—knowing he had you at his mercy, that you had no choice but to stifle your cries into the pillows. The illicit thrill of it all tingled through your veins.

When his kisses trailed down your abdomen, each press of his lips and rasp of stubble sending sparks skittering along your nerves, you struggled to keep your breathing steady. He paused at your hipbone, letting his warm breath fan over that sensitive spot, before moving lower. The anticipation tightened in your chest, and when his mouth finally found the slick, heated place between your thighs, you nearly bit through your bottom lip.

He was merciless in the best way—gentle yet relentless, circling your clit with agonizing precision, his tongue working in tandem with a deft finger that simultaneously curled inside you. Your entire body sang with tension, thighs trembling as you tried desperately not to cry out. He played you like an instrument, each lick and stroke tuned to your soft gasps and whimpers. The orgasm built so quickly it shocked you, pleasure cresting like a sudden, rolling wave you couldn’t outrun. You pulled the pillow to cover your face, burying yourself into it and muffling the sharp, desperate sound that escaped as you came. William groaned appreciatively, the vibration making you shudder as you rode out the pulses of ecstasy, gripping the sheets for some sense of grounding.

When he pulled away, your thighs still shook, your breath choppy. A soft whimper of protest escaped you at the loss, and he just chuckled under his breath. It was a dark, amused sound, as if he’d barely begun to play with you and had so much more in store.

So, naturally, he reached over to the bedside table, retrieving something you hadn’t expected tonight—the good old magic wand. Your eyes went wide at the sight of it, fear and excitement tangling in your chest as you realised how easily he could push you over the edge again. Your mouth opened, a little plea escaping before you could stop it.

And he answered you only by pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, an almost tender gesture, before turning on the toy. The soft hum filled your ears, as he moved it to your swollen, sensitive clit. You jerked at the contact; the wand’s vibrations already too intense after your first orgasm.

William kept going, though, eyes fixed on your face as you buried it into the pillow again, desperate to stay quiet. The sensation soared through you at dizzying speed, and in what felt like seconds, another release claimed you—this one sharper, more demanding. You clenched around nothing, toes curling tight, a muffled cry caught in your throat as you came once more. The sheets beneath you were soaked, and you knew it only spurred William on.

As you breathed out heavily, William finally set the wand aside, looking smug as ever, while you tried to catch your breath. Your body hummed with aftershocks, limbs heavy and pliant.

Now it was his turn. As he practically tore and tossed his own clothes aside, your eyes followed down to the bulge straining against his boxers, his desire evident. He stood at the foot of the bed and shed the last bit of fabric in one fluid motion, his cock standing hard and flushed, ready for you. But you knew he wouldn’t just hand it over. He wanted you to work for it—wanted to see that you were just as eager to please him as he was to break your composure.

“Come here,” he said softly, voice holding that firm edge that made your stomach tighten. Still trembling, you moved onto all fours, grateful your arms held you steady after those two overwhelming climaxes. He guided you with a gentle hand in your hair, bringing you close to him.

And instinctively, you opened, hollowed your cheeks and welcomed him into your mouth, determined to make him lose some of that smug control. He groaned low in his throat when you swirled your tongue just right, and you felt a surge of pride at the sound. Each muffled hiss of pleasure was a victory, proof that you could unravel him too.

“Good girl,” he praised, voice roughened by pleasure. That phrase sent warmth spilling through you, made your heart flutter. You knew he loved having you like this, compliant and dedicated, yet still carrying that spark of mischief that had started this whole game.

But then, with a gentle push, he instructed you to turn around, urging you to press your cheek into the pillow, your knees sinking into the mattress as you raised your ass for him. The anticipation was maddening. He knelt behind you, one large hand on your hip, the other skimming down your spine. You let out a quiet gasp when he brushed his thumb over you other entrance, just a hint of pressure that made you whimper. He didn’t push further, only reminding you who held all the cards.

Then, finally, he filled you up with a powerful thrust, claiming you with a sure, steady movement. The fullness made you moan softly, muffled by the pillow. He set a slow rhythm; each inward push followed by a careful withdrawal that left you aching for more. With each roll of his hips, he angled himself just right, brushing sensitive spots that made your vision blur.

Occasionally, he applied a hint more pressure with his thumb against that other, tighter place, not entering. It sent electricity through your nerves, reminding you just how easily he could control your pleasure.

Your muffled cries and soft whimpers were a soundtrack he savoured. He leaned over you, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder blades, murmuring your name like a prayer. The bed creaked softly beneath you, the scent of sex and the faint pine of the Christmas tree drifting through the apartment. You were both keenly aware that Alex slept down the hall—that, in the morning, family would fill this space with laughter and cheer. But right now, it was just the two of you, lost in this secret, intimate world of desire and trust.

William pressed in deeper, his body trembling with the effort of keeping his pace steady. The world beyond the bedroom door seemed to recede, the faint glow of Christmas lights under the doorframe the only hint of the festive setting outside. In that moment, nothing mattered except the heat of his skin against yours, the glide of sweat at the small of your back, the sounds and scents that wrapped around you both like a secret.

Your cries, half-stifled by the pillow you bit into, were music to his ears. You arched under him, toes curling into the mattress, the duvet bunching beneath your knees. You could feel him shudder, could almost taste how desperately he wanted to let go.

“Fuck, baby,” he panted, voice tight, on the edge of control. His grip on your hips tightened, fingertips pressing into your flesh. He angled himself just right, each deep thrust fanning the flames inside you both. You answered with a choked moan, head turned to the side, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to remain as silent as possible.

He whispered your name once more, voice cracking with need. “Mmm, I’m gonna fucking come,” he groaned, as if confessing a secret sin. You could hear the strain, feel the tension coiling in his muscles as he hovered at the brink. Each ragged breath he took warmed the skin of your back. The slick sound of your bodies meeting and the rich scent of sex filled your senses.

And when he finally surrendered, it was with a shudder that racked his entire frame. He buried himself as deep as he dared, spilling hot and thick inside you, voice reduced to a strangled gasp of relief and pleasure. The force of his climax echoed through you, every aftershock rippling against your quivering muscles. He stayed like that for a heartbeat longer, body slumped, forehead resting between your shoulder blades, his breath hitching as he tried to steady himself.

For a few moments, neither of you moved, too wrapped up in the haze of post-climax bliss. Your heart pounded, your limbs heavy, as you savoured the sensation of being utterly claimed. Then, as the urgency faded to a gentle hum, he withdrew carefully, easing you onto your side. The sudden coolness of the room’s air against your heated skin made you shiver, and he was quick to pull a cover over you both, sealing you together in warmth and comfort.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his voice a soft, affectionate murmur that contrasted with the raw desperation of moments before. Outside this room, the world waited; snow falling silently, Christmas approaching with all its family chaos and bright laughter. But for right now, in the lingering scent of sex, you were two souls bound by secrecy, pleasure, and trust.

A quiet chuckle escaped him, low and fond. He brushed damp hair from your face, fingers lingering in the curve of your jaw. “I love you so fucking much” he whispered, as if afraid to break the spell. “Thanks for all the little surprises.”

You turned, meeting his gaze, the corner of your mouth lifting in a lazy, sated smile. “I love you too, Willy. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

[melhyan]

"Life's Rage", a SWTOR OC

[Repost from my old art acc: @wackyart, my OC Sith Warrior Cathar girlie Sable]

Sketch done on paper, colored on Krita. Do not repost or use without permission or I'll send your kneecaps back to your weeping mother in an amazon prime package.☺️🤍

Wanted to pop in with a quick update about my Redbubble, INPRNT, and TeePublic shops (also Etsy)!! I’m in the process of giving them a bit of a makeover—changing my handles, curating the selection, and retiring some older products that don’t quite fit my current style. Think of it as a magical inventory reshuffle.🧙‍♀️✨

I’ll be keeping everyone updated as soon as everything is sorted. Whether you’re looking for a print of an old favorite or scouting out something shiny and new, I’ll make sure the transition is as smooth as a bard’s persuasion check!!

P.S.: I’m also working on something exciting—a full PDF for my commission sheet!✨ It’ll include everything: detailed info, examples of my work, and all the options laid out to make things easier for everyone (and maybe add a little flair, because why not?). Stay tuned for more updates on that—it’s coming soon to a scroll near you! 🖌️📜

[Do not repost or use without permission]

Mëlhyan

[thefandomsfervent]

Viktor x Reader Personal Pigments (Part 15) - Rich Gold

This is a jayvik x reader fic now but it'll still be labeled as a Vik Fic until it's fully implemented. Ft. a visit from Mel! Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom.

Planning on writing as much as I can this weekend to post in bulk before Christmas week, I'll be traveling a distance away and can't bring my laptop with me.

stay tuned and Thank you for reading <3

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The two men had been working over there for the last hour. The last thirty minutes of which they had spent muttering too quietly to discern. When you cast a look their way, curious about the whispering, you are presented with something very interesting. Jayce was standing by Viktor’s chair, his hand tracing a pattern you couldn’t make out on the lithe man’s back. That usually would not be cause for concern, it wasn’t something you had really seen before but nothing that risqué. The fact that Jayce was bent down by Viktor’s face whispering something that made his pale skin glow red? That was new. And intimate. And something you probably shouldn’t be seeing. 

It stirs a warmth deep in your stomach that you furiously try to tamp down. Whatever was happening over there was not your concern. The sketch you were working on was. When you had shown Viktor and Jayce your sketchbook they both lingered at the same spot. Answer enough. You had several iterations of it sketched out, that should have been a sign. You’ve had this happen before though. Where your subconscious had fully decided on something, and pushed it to you again and again, and it took something else to make you realize that you already knew what you wanted. So you tear your gaze away from whatever flirtations the two were engaging in to go back to your sketch. 

General composition confirmed. Now you need to decide on little details. Foxgloves for ambition. Or Hollyhock? The former also could represent ambition for another person, not just your own glory. Fitting for their commitment to each other and their Hextech dream. Golden Rod for encouragement and Grapes for charity. King Cup for yellow to go with the Golden Rod, and to represent their wish for it to prosper. Purple or yellow for the Carnations to show pride? So many options. The petals of all of these flowers and more were sketched out in front of you. Changing their colors, layering, placement. Part of your panic in selecting a final composition earlier was knowing that Mel would be visiting today. 

She had come in a few days ago looking for Jayce. Something about their next council meeting, What to and not to say. Who to kiss up to. Who to placate. Versing him, and Viktor by association, on the proper etiquette. Viktor had told you once that Jayce already knew everything he really needed to know from his patrons the Kirramans. Yet he listened to her with rapt attention. When she was done with them she floated by your station, ever graceful steps on the tile. Her jewelry clinked softly with each movement, like a quiet chorus of bells and crystals. Something about her presence was anxiety inducing and enchanting all at the same time. She thrummed with something otherworldly. 

Mel had set a date and time for her to visit with you, something that you considered a luxury. A councilor taking interest in your art was one thing. The idea had crossed your mind when you had applied for this project, part of why you had considered it in the first place. Not to climb any ladders, but to make sure you could stay here in Piltover. Now you were teetering on an edge of potential friendship or securing stability. You felt that you were not one whose words were graceful enough to secure, well, anything. Felt that your skills laid in your hands. Hands that you were doing your best to keep moving despite the appointment you had set grew closer and closer to the present. 

You were finally hitting a groove when there was a familiar sound pulling you away from the sketchpad. A scraping sound. The lab door is opening and Mel’s gentle footsteps clack against the tile floor. Smooth and swift movements to cross over the lab. She held a box in one hand. This time she didn’t immediately stop at Jayce’s or Viktor’s station. Direct line of motion to you. You stand and brush your hands against your slacks. When you glance in the men’s direction, they had separated and turned to the both of you. You realized that you did not know if Mel was aware of how deep their partnership ran. A blush on both their faces. It was cute and you try not to smile at the sight. You instead shift your gaze to Mel and offer her your smile instead.

“Forgive the intrusion,” her voice like honey, “are you ready?” 

“Yes! Just a moment.” You’re grabbing a pouch and sketchbook. Today was going to be more of a walk-and-talk situation, you doubted you’d have the time to really draw anything. Still, you wanted to be prepared. As you’re gathering your supplies you hear Mel talking with Viktor and Jayce. 

“Councilor Hoskel sends his regards.” You turn to see Jayce opening the box, the largest bottle of wine you had ever seen and two glasses inside. Piltover’s iconic gold filigree crawling up the bases, stems, and swirling around the bottom of the bowls. Expensive. 

“Whatever for?” Viktor’s holding one of the glasses now, turning it in the light of the lab. Watching as it glitters, it seems that there may be small jewels set into the whorls and swirls. Very expensive. 

“Truth be told, it’s a set he gave me. I thought that it would be better enjoyed here. I know that these meetings are growing repetitive. Consider it an incentive to continue your hard work.” Usually Viktor would scoff and mutter some reply about how they did not need incentives, but he’s eyeing the bottle of wine. It’s Jayce who stutters out their thanks and puts the box on the table behind him. 

Mel just nods, pristine and simple before turning to you. “Shall we?” You give Viktor and Jayce a nod of your own and trail behind her when she starts walking towards the door. The two of you make your way to the hallway. 

“Thank you for making time for this Counc-,” Her head tilts with her raised brow. “Mel.”

“Despite the finery and brilliance here in Piltover it is hard to find minds worth talking to.” Your cheeks heat. That was a compliment right? “If those two let you stay with them, then you must be intriguing.”

“I’m just painting.” It’s hard to keep the doubt out of your voice. Doubt that she thinks you are worth spending her little free time with. Doubt that Jayce and Viktor find you intriguing.

“You have grown close with them. I'm glad. The two are so busy I worry that they forgot how to make friends.” When she notices you falling behind she slows her pace. Having you at her side like you were equals. 

“You're a friend too aren't you?” A genuine question. Jayce had a crush yes, but her frequent visits didn’t imply to you that she returned the sentiment. Her energy was so kind, warm like the sun. It was hard for you to believe that she didn’t want companionship. 

“Mmm. Perhaps. I'm not sure both of them would agree with that." You both give faint laughs at that. She continues. “I would like to be a friend to you though. We will need to find time to paint together soon.” The statement settles around your shoulders, the air around your ears buzzing.

“Yes, I’d like that too.” This time it’s your chest heating, swelling at the thought of being friends with Mel Medarda. “Those two could probably use a solo lab day.”

 “You know with your skills, you could help promote them.” Your steps falter for a moment.

“What do you mean?” Promote them how? Why? Questions she is reading on your face.

“Job security after your painting is done. They'll need someone who can help them advertise, especially once Hextech goes public.” She says it like it’s the only logical conclusion. Finality in her belief alone.

You hadn't thought about that. Well, you had. When you first met them you had brought it up as an idea for someone else to do. Not yourself, you hadn’t assumed it would be you.  And the look on her face tells you she knew that. Like she knows everything. Not in a patronizing way, but in a calming one.

“I’m not sure how they’d feel about that.” They both didn't like the amount of schmoozing they were having to do now. If you helped with anything it could be selecting designs but you weren’t a designer or typographer. And if the other advertisements you’d seen plastered around Piltover spoke for what she would want you to make, it would be their faces. Having their faces plastered around everything is not something you thought they'd like either. This city is all about claiming credit for things that went well and sweeping things under the rug if they didn’t. 

“They are fond of you. I’m sure they would agree to it.” You give a friendly scoff at that word. Fond of you? The word makes your heart warm more than it has already. And your face. The upturn of Mel’s lips doesn’t help either. Nor does the hand she places on your shoulder. “Consider it for a friend?” 

You’re looking at her hand, her arm. Eyes meeting hers. Such genuine eyes. Green and glittering with the gold in her hair, on the freckles speckling her face. You raise a hand slowly to place on hers. “For a friend.”  

“Good!” She pulls her hand away and motions for you to walk with her. “Enough talk of those boys.” You join her side again as you travel around the halls of the Academy. You talk about art, about the pleasant memories you had of Zaun and she lets very little slip of her childhood in Noxus. She shares artists you recognize the names of, some you don’t. You shared that you make your own paint as a hobby. Leading the two of you to the topic of what paints you each preferred. It was nice. Talking to someone about things you truly did understand. Viktor and Jayce would explain their work to you, and you would listen. But finally talking to someone that was just as knowledgeable about art as you were was a breath of fresh air. You were explaining the process of tempera paints, and why you liked making them, not using them when someone calls for Mel. 

A woman holding folders approaches, giving you a onceover before closing the distance. 

“Elora. Is it that time already?” 

“Yes, it seems that-”, she pauses before looking at you again. When Mel nods she resumes. “That there’s been a development on those trade routes we discussed earlier.” 

“Hmm, it’s always something isn’t it.” She turns to you. “Thank you for our time today, a nice escape.” Mel places her hand on your shoulder again. “I do hope you’ll keep our talk in mind.” 

“Ofcourse.” With that she leaves, Elora following behind her. When they round a corner you can hear their voices talking in a hushed tone. Imports and merchants being discussed as their voices and footsteps trail away. You’re left standing in the hallway. Realizing that with the couple hours that have passed you and Mel had traversed to a part of the Academy you were not familiar with. 

A groan leaves you as you turn to where you had come from. So if you had taken a right here, then you should see a vase on your left… 

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------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[n0vazsq]

Long enough | JMM21 x Reader

pairing . . . pepe marti x campos!intern!reader

summary . . . Pepe had always had a crush on you, but never wanted to confess. That is until 'someone else' swoops in, and he realises he might lose you to him

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.1k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . not my best work but yeah!! hope you guys enjoy!!

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @hwalllllllelujah ,, @parkerloves (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . The Campos garage was alive with its usual chaos. Mechanics tuning the cars, engineers debating strategy calls, and the constant hum of anticipation as the race day unfolded.

Amidst it all, you scurried between the various departments, clipboard in hand, multitasking as an intern for the team.

You loved your job; the adrenaline, the camaraderie, and the shared passion for motorsport. What you didn’t notice, however, was the way Pepe's gaze followed you everywhere.

Pepe had it bad. Everyone on the team knew it. From the way he always found excuses to talk to you, "Do you know where they moved the telemetry sheets?", to the way he straightened up whenever you entered the room, his crush was glaringly obvious.

Everyone, that is, except you. You treated him with the same friendly professionalism you offered everyone else, which only drove Pepe further into his internal spiral.

"He’s hopeless," one of his engineers muttered as Pepe sat in the lounge, pretending not to watch you as you chatted on the phone across the paddock. "Why doesn’t he just tell her?"

"He’s scared she’ll say no," another replied. "But if he doesn’t do something soon, someone else is going to swoop in."

That ‘someone else’ turned out to be Jared McCain. The basketball player had flown in to watch the race and, more importantly, to catch up with you. Jared had been your friend since high school, and while your careers had taken you in different directions, you’d stayed close.

Seeing him again was a treat, and it showed in the way you hugged him as soon as he arrived at the paddock.

Pepe noticed. Oh, did he notice. He had just stepped out of the Campos motorhome when he spotted you laughing with Jared, the two of you leaning close as you exchanged stories.

The way Jared casually draped an arm over your shoulders made Pepe’s stomach twist in a way he didn’t understand. Was it jealousy? Oh, definitely.

"Who’s that?" Pepe asked one of the mechanics, trying his best to not sound too obvious.

"Jared McCain," the mechanic replied, clearly amused. "Plays basketball. He’s a big deal, you know."

Pepe gritted his teeth. "Right. And he’s….close with her?"

"Looks that way," the engineer said, then smirked. "Better shoot your shot, Pepe, or someone else might."

Pepe groaned, running a hand through his hair. "This is torture."

As the day went on, Jared stuck by your side, and Pepe’s mood grew worse. Every laugh you shared with Jared felt like a dagger to his chest. His usual charm and energy were replaced with quiet brooding, and everyone around him noticed.

"You okay, man?" Isack asked during the debrief.

Pepe shook his head. "No. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t just….watch her with him."

"So tell her how you feel," Sebastian, who had been there to watch them race, said. "Seriously, Pepe, it’s not that hard. She likes you, too."

Pepe looked at him skeptically. "How do you know that?"

"She doesn’t treat anyone else the way she treats you," he said. "She lights up when you’re around. Trust me."

Pepe’s heart soared at the thought, but doubt quickly crept back in. "What if I ruin things?"

"You won’t," Isack said firmly. "But if you wait any longer, you might lose her to McCain."

That was all it took. Pepe stood up, his resolve finally solidifying. He wasn’t about to let Jared, or anyone else, take you away from him.

He found you near the Campos garage, chatting with Jared as the post race celebrations wound down. Jared noticed Pepe first, giving him a knowing smirk before stepping aside.

"I’ll catch up with you later," Jared said to you, clapping Pepe on the shoulder as he walked away.

You turned to Pepe, surprised. "Hey! Congrats on the race. You were incredible out there."

Pepe barely heard your words. His heart was pounding, and for a moment, he thought about backing out. But then he saw the way you looked at him; genuine, kind, and completely oblivious to how much he adored you, and he knew he couldn’t stay silent any longer.

"Can we talk?" he blurted out, his voice more serious than usual.

Your brows knitted in concern. "Of course. What’s wrong?"

Pepe took a deep breath, his hands fidgeting nervously. "I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a while, but I didn’t know how. And then today, seeing you with Jared…" He trailed off, his frustration rising to the surface. "I can’t stand the thought of losing you to someone else."

You blinked, completely caught off guard. "Losing me? Pepe, what are you talking about?"

He stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "I like you. A lot. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. And I’ve been too scared to tell you because I didn’t think you felt the same. But I can’t keep it to myself anymore. You mean too much to me."

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. You stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. "Pepe, I…"

"I get it if you don’t feel the same," he said quickly, his voice trembling slightly. "But I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep it in any longer."

You took a step closer, your hand brushing against his. “Pepe, I had no idea. I thought… I thought you just saw me as a friend.”

"A friend?" Pepe scoffed, shaking his head. "You’re so much more than that. You’re… everything."

A soft smile spread across your face, and you reached up to cup his cheek. "You’re an idiot for thinking I wouldn’t feel the same."

Pepe’s eyes widened. "Wait… you mean-"

"I like you, too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I have for a while. I just didn’t think you noticed me like that."

Pepe let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, a relieved laugh escaping him. "Noticed you? I’ve been obsessed with you."

You laughed, and the sound made Pepe’s chest swell with joy. He didn’t waste another second. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

From a few feet away, Jared leaned against the wall, smirking as he watched the two of you. "Took him long enough," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

The rest of the paddock watched with quiet satisfaction as Pepe finally got the courage to confess. And as you pulled back from the hug to smile up at him, it was clear to everyone; Pepe Marti wasn’t letting go of you anytime soon.

[zyxelia]

Whispers Of Forever — Hajime Iwaizumi x Fem! Reader

Starring: Hajime Iwaizumi x Fem! Reader

Summary: After your marriage, you and your husband have your own drawer beside the bed. One day while cleaning, you see something on the drawer that looks like... A love letter? Oh, how could it be? You thought you already read all his love letters for you! (Spoiler: Curiosity gets the best of you!)

Word Count: 498 Words

Things To Note(s): -

Estimated Reading Time: 2-3 Minutes

a/n: It's almost new year!

Main Masterlist | Haikyuu!! Masterlist | Main Series Masterlist

My precious one, iwa-channn!!

To you, my dearest love.

For the first time in my life, I am enchanted— caught in the kind of spell I once thought existed only in dreams. Before you, everything felt distant and muted, but with you, the world feels softer and gentler, as though every corner of it has been touched by your light. You’ve filled the empty spaces within me with something so pure, so full of warmth, that I can hardly remember the cold that came before.

Whenever I think about you, it feels like a soft melody playing within me— a song only I can hear, yet it feels as though the entire universe is in tune with it. You’ve healed parts inside of me I thought would always stay broken, and in their place, you’ve brought light, love, and hope. There is a lightness in my soul now, a peace that I had long since forgotten was even possible. You make me feel whole again, like a puzzle whose missing pieces were always meant to be found, and you— my love— are the key that completed it.

Your eyes hold a gravity that draws me in, leaving me suspended, weightless, and unmoored. They hold stories, secrets, and worlds within them, and I feel privileged to be the one who gets to see them. The world fades away when I am with you. I lose myself in the depths of your gaze; I could spend an eternity simply losing myself in you.

It’s also the way I am fascinated by your voice. Every word you speak lingers in my heart like a melody I wish to never stop hearing. Each time you speak, I find myself drawn closer, wanting to hear more of your thoughts, your dreams, your fears—every piece of you that makes you the person I love more than anything else in this world.

It’s you.

Always you.

In the whispers of yesterday, the embrace of today, and the endless horizon of tomorrow, it will always be you. No matter where life takes us, or what challenges we face, you are the constant thread that ties me to this life.

You are my light in the darkness, my constant in the chaos, and the love I will cherish for as long as my heart is still beating. You are my beginning and my end, the keeper of my heart and soul, the one I will choose forever.

Upon meeting you, I have found my home, my peace, and the endless beauty of what it means to be truly alive. My love, in your arms, I have discovered what it means to truly live— to live not just with my heart, but with every part of me.

I have to admit, writing this letter is easier than speaking it directly to you. Thank you for being everything I never knew I needed, for being my dream made real, and for loving me in ways I could never have imagined.

You are, and always will be, my everything.

©️ zyxelia, 2024. Please do not translate, modify, or repost my work on any other platforms without asking. Thank you for understanding.

[chrystal-ink]

Shadvent calendar day 21

Shadow X GN Reader

Christmas music

Your festive spirit could not be contained as the speaker Played all your favorite Christmas music. one after another the songs kept getting better and better distracting you from your chores. You just couldn't help yourself you had to dance.

Shadow walked in just as the last song was fading out. He smiled at the sight, the way you were enjoying yourself. He took a mental picture of you admiring the way you danced without a care in the world.

"Enjoying yourself I see."

You turned to him Smiling at his arrival. at one point Shadow walking in on you dancing would have been embarrassing but that time has long since passed. this wasn't the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"You're Home!" you exclaimed Making your way over to him to give him a kiss. "How was work?"

"It was the usual, someone was a threat and I took care of them."

"Saving the world and still managing to look so sexy, how do you do it?"

Shadow Rolled his eyes as you led him to the couch.

"Dinner is in the oven it'll be ready in 20 minuets. which gives you plenty of time to relax."

You sat Shadow down on the couch and continued your chores humming along to the festive music as you went.

the last song had just ended it's pop melody fading away into the next Christmas song a much slower and nostalgic tune taking it's place. you swayed to the gentle rhythm once again getting lost in the music.

Shadow heaved a sigh something he rarely did the sound catching your attention. you turned to see a melancholy expression on his face. your attention immediately shifted to him sitting next to him taking his hand in yours.

"Shadow is something wrong?"

he stayed quiet for a moment before finally answering. "She used to love this song."

"Oh, would you like me to change it?"

"No, She wouldn't want me to. I'd rather honor her life than shut it away, besides I know you like this one too."

Shadow stood up keeping your hand in his.

"May I have this dance?"

You stood and allowed him to lead you to the center of the living room. He rested his hands around you waist pulling you in your arms finding their way around his shoulders. the two of you swayed together holding one another in a tight embrace.

"She would have loved you."

"I'm sorry we never got to meet."

"You know sometimes I think she sent you to me."

"I think we were sent to each other my love."

shadow gave a pleased "hmm" before kissing you on the head.

the two of you continued your dance until the song was complete and even after you continued to hold shadow until he was ready to let go.

[agrlsname]

Thank you @therealsaintscully for the tag! I'm soon about to post what might be my very last fic, so it's quite fitting to look back on my journey now.

How many works do you have on ao3?

38 – all Johnlock, except for one GO fic. On New Year's Eve I will post number 39!

What’s your total word count?

371,360 (will soon top it off with another 221 words ;))

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

What Friends Do (by FAR), Who I Really Am (personal fave), The General Idea, Coldness/Heat, Tomorrow's Song

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

At first I responded to every single one! And I still try to respond to every single person. But now, I sometimes only respond to the last one if it's a reader who's commented on every chapter and I get all the comments at once. I like staying connected to the readers, that's one of the most fun parts about fandom!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

It has to be This Is Your Song. I mean, there's another one within a series that end in an angsty cliffhanger, but MCD surely has to take the prize?

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Oh my, nearly all of them have happy endings – so what would count as happier than happy..? Maybe it's actually the one that isn't posted yet – stay tuned for the resolution of the New Year's Kiss series!

Do you write crossovers?

Nope. I've written a fusion though (Johnlock and Moulin Rouge!).

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yup. Some people get really angry at John in What Friends Do and they take it out on me. It's interesting because many MANY others adore the story with all their hearts! I even wrote a sequel from John's POV just to try to get people to understand, but the haters didn't understand anyway.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Even though at the beginning I said I'd never, half of my works are now rated E or M. What kind? Um, is "emotional, gay sex" a genre?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Many of them, into five different languages! Coolest thing ever.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I think I'm too pedantic for that. I've loved working with my beta on some poem translations, though, that The Sky is Full of Fiddles is based on.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

38 fics – you all know it's Johnlock, right? There are others that I love, but nothing can ever compare.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I don't have WIPs! I'm too much of a control freak and perfectionist when it comes to writing – I want to be able to change the beginning when I'm writing the ending. I don't even have unpublished WIPs – I hate the idea of leaving works unfinished. If I was still in those first years of writing frenzy, when I was single and didn't have a child, I'd have expanded on This Time – but as it is, I knew that I wouldn't have the time to do it justice. So I purposely ended on a cliffhanger that would still allow it to stand on its own the way it is.

What are your writing strengths?

Emotions, according to my beta! If you ask me, I'd say describing things – often emotions, I suppose – in new, poetic ways that play on different senses and therefore make them immediate. It's something I love reading myself, anyway, so it's something I've been practicing for... well, decades now. I'd like to think I've gotten at least somewhat good at it.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm weirdly bad at coming up with the small details that aren't important, but needed. A recent example is I needed a character to text another with an invented problem to try to get him to come over. It wasn't at all important what the problem was, but it also couldn't be just anything; it had to be in line with his character. I could not for the life of me come up with this problem myself – eventually my husband did it for me. So those kinds of details in my stories are rarely from my own brain!

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Hmm, well, I've tried not to do that. As a reader I find it annoying to have to look things up, or scroll down to the notes. I have three fics in which characters aren't English; in This Is Your Song I added a couple of "Bonjour"s for flavour, which is about as far as my own French knowledge reaches... In the Fiddles series they're Swedes and speak my mother tongue, but I've written everything in English except for the words that English doesn't have (like for example "polska", a kind of dance), and at the very end, some song lyrics that are then translated into English in the end notes that come immediately after. I did want to add that song for flavour, but I didn't want it to be annoying.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Johnlock! I started in the aftermath of season 4 back in January 2017 and then couldn't stop.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I'm wondering whether I will come back to fic writing at a later point, but for another fandom. I've long wanted to write more for GO, although I already have written one fic. It would probably be a lot of fun to write for OFMD too. Doctor Who maybe? I don't know, it intimidates me to write for a new fandom where I don't yet know the characters as well as I know Sherlock and John.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

This question is too cruel! There are so many of them that I love. Maybe I have to say The Sky is Full of Fiddles, after all – it holds such a special place in my heart for many reasons that go beyond the story itself (although that's true for several fics). Other faves are Your Daughter, The Zebra Sheets and of course Who I Really Am, which I'm liking enough to turn it into a novel I'm now trying to get published. See, I couldn't pick one!!

I'm on Tumblr way too sporadically to have any idea of who's already done this and who hasn't, so I don't dare tag anyone... Feel free to take it and tag me if you feel like it!

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Saturday, 12-21-24, 7pm Pacific

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT:

'Evenin', everyone. This is your faithful Bringer of The Tunes of Yore, your intrepid DJ, Mr. Baggins, signing off for...a while.

I'll be taking these next ten days off, hopefully you might think them well-deserved. I've been doing these three shows a day for a good long while with no break, as I've been mulling over my (and our) future.

I started Radio Free Tumblr as a way to help keep everyone's morale up while the shitshow progresses, and to spend less time "DOOMSCROLLING" all the bad news, since my personal situation is still so dire I don't need any more bringing-down.

I also started it to give me more time for myself, but in reality, it has turned into a full-time, all-day job for me to come up with these three shows a day, mostly just picking things out of my own memory and following the breadcrumbs. It's a creative process that, unfortunately, takes as much of a toll as anything else.

As a result, your intrepid DJ is One Tired Mofo. I'll be taking the rest of the year off to do some recouping and more thinking about what I want to do with this blog.

It's been difficult for me to think about going back to the trenches and being as on-the-front-lines as I was. I know I've probably disappointed some of you, going from being so vocal and sure of everything, to pulling back and essentially rolling into a ball like a pangolin while I've tried to figure this out.

And I've had some shame over that, as well. It feels like I've failed y'all in some ways. Please know I didn't "give up"...I was just thrown so far off track by the election debacle I couldn't see a way forward and I let it get to me. My usual modus operandi when something like that happens is to retreat into The Music until I figure it all out, and Radio Free Tumblr was a way y'all could come along for the ride, as it were.

We are on the cusp of a very strange time, and I still believe that somehow we will pull through this stronger, but I'm still having difficulty with seeing a way forward. I hope these next ten days will help make it clearer in my mind.

The shows will stay posted and up, so if there were some you really enjoyed and want to hear again, just go to my Archive page, and they're all there, from the beginning posts in the aftermath of that first week of November forward.

And I wanna give a very heart-felt THANK YOU to everyone who's enjoyed what I've done with The Music here this past couple of months...that makes me feel good, knowing that conjuring this music up out of my memory banks and following the creative breadcrumbs from the universe has maybe helped some of y'all smile and have a better day.

So...until next time...be kind, babies, be kind.

Baggins out.

[paulmccartneyexplodingonstage]

“If we can’t be lovers we’ll never be friends…”

Mixed media, 22.5x30in, 28 hrs

(click for better quality)

One day I’ll sit down and give an extensive talk on my experience with synesthesia, but for now I’ll just say that for me, music has always been tied to my art. Inextricably. When I put on music as I paint it’s not just background noise, it’s actively informing the piece. This is an example of me taking that to the logical extreme, this entire piece was made and crafted by the music I heard as I painted it. Using Beatles (and solo career) songs from across their lifespan, the finished piece becomes a visual symphony of shared history between Paul McCartney and John Lennon. Everything shared, and everything left unsaid.

[may12324]

Opening my online store tommorrow!

So if you've been eyeing my Baldur's Gate art, I'll have them up for sale! Including large scroll prints, bookmarks, as well as digital files!

My Store will be open from the 27th of Feb to the 8th of March or until I reach 100 physical orders.

[chiscribbs]

Hey y'all, I'm alive! :D